Class 
 
 Book, 
 
 Copyright}! . 
 
 COFYRiGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Many other signs therefore did Jesus in the presence 
 of the disciples, which are not written in this book: 
 hut these are written, that ye may believe that Jesus 
 is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye may 
 have life in his name. 
 
 —John 20. 30, 31. 
 
THE UNDERWORLD 
 AND THE UPPER 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES A. STARR 
 
 With an Introduction by 
 
 The HON. WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN 
 
 NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS 
 CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & GRAHAM 
 
£,(.1 
 
 Gopyright, 1912, by 
 EATON & MAINS 
 
 £CI.A30050I 
 
THE MEMORY OF MY SPIRITUAL FATHER, THE 
 REV. SAMUEL HOPKINS HADLEY, TO WHOSE 
 WISE COUNSEL AND LOVING REGARD I OWE 
 MY ESCAPE FROM MANY PITFALLS DURING MY 
 EARLY CHRISTIAN LIFE, WHOSE TESTIMONY- 
 OPENED MY EYES TO THE LOVE OF THE 
 MASTER FOR THE FALLEN, AND WHOSE GREAT 
 HEART REACHED OUT AND MADE ME ONE 
 OF HIS "BOYS," THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 Preface ix 
 
 Introduction xiii 
 
 I. A Strong Arm Become Stronger 1 
 
 II. An International Panhandler 11 
 
 III. The Stowaway 22 
 
 IV. A Frat House Confession 31 
 
 V. "He First Findeth His Own Brother" 47 
 
 VI. Simon Brought to Jesus 55 
 
 VII. Neither Jew nor Gentile 63 
 
 VIII. Midnight and a Park Bench 72 
 
 IX. Under Two Flags 80 
 
 X. A Man's Undoing 89 
 
 XI. Up and Doing 106 
 
 XII. Cowboy Baronet Turns Soldier 118 
 
 XIII. Got What He Wanted 129 
 
 XIV. A Life Sentence 138 
 
 XV. Sunny Jim 149 
 
 XVI. Sunshine 157 
 
 XVII. Her New Husband 164 
 
 XVIII. A Workhouse Valet 172 
 
 XIX. Rebel, Then Regular 181 
 
 XX. Arrows and Stripes 190 
 
 XXI. A Matter of Politics 199 
 
 XXII. Barroom to Bank 207 
 
 XXIII. Tacks Versus Taxes 219 
 
 XXIV. Bread Line to Breadwinner 229 
 
 XXV. A Prison Apostle 236 
 
 XXVI. Blind Eyes Made to See 244 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The bringing together of these stories of 
 salvation has been in contemplation for a long 
 time. It has been the belief of the author 
 that these illustrations from the "perpetual 
 revival" will stimulate the Church to a deeper 
 sense of its responsibility to the large numbers 
 of unfortunate men and women who have 
 drifted away from Christian homes to recruit 
 the armies of tramps, criminals, and drunk- 
 ards — all outcasts. 
 
 The Methodist Church was the first denom- 
 ination to give official recognition to rescue 
 work, by establishing, through its New York 
 City Missionary Society, the Hadley Rescue 
 Hall, on the Bowery. There were many rescue 
 missions when Wesley Hall — as it was first 
 called — was opened in 1904, in what had been 
 successively a beer garden, pool and gambling 
 house, and dance hall ; but they were all under 
 independent auspices. 
 
 To the Rev. Samuel Hopkins Hadley, whose 
 name the mission now bears, belongs the 
 credit of establishing the mission, for to his 
 persistence and to others who interested 
 two laymen of means and others in the under- 
 
 ix 
 
x PREFACE 
 
 taking, may be ascribed the inauguration of 
 the work. He has laid down his cross and 
 taken the crown, but the work will remain as 
 an enduring monument, not only in the 
 mission itself and in the Old Jerry McAuley 
 Water Street Mission, of which he was simul- 
 taneously superintendent, but in the lives of 
 hundreds of men and women now scattered 
 broadcast over the face of the earth. There is 
 promise that other denominations soon will 
 follow the example set by the Methodist 
 Church; interdenominational and undenomi- 
 national missions are also multiplying, but 
 not in ratio to the increase in the army of the 
 "down-and-outs." 
 
 The characters set forth in this volume are 
 known to the author — many of them from the 
 day of their redemption ; their testimonies are 
 not overdrawn, but in many cases do not tell 
 all the extremes to which sin has brought 
 them. They are not intended as biography, 
 nor written to catalogue crime and depravity. 
 Each character has his phase of evil and his 
 peculiar approach to salvation. Hundreds 
 more of testimonies might be written, some of 
 which possess even more startling features; 
 but the book is not sent out to thrill the 
 reader with the narration of crime and 
 degradation, but the rather to lift up Him 
 
PREFACE xi 
 
 who said, "And I, if I be lifted up from the 
 earth, will draw all men unto me." 
 
 Doubtless many will wish they might have 
 a part in missionary endeavor which promises 
 such glorious results. To such the oppor- 
 tunity is open, for earnest, prevailing prayer 
 is needed for the leaders and their work; 
 many who need the offices of the missions do 
 not know of their work, and by directing such 
 to these places their salvation may be accom- 
 plished; then there is the always acceptable 
 help through generous gifts of money. 
 
 If the Church generally, and Christians in 
 their individual relations, can be interested in 
 the salvation of the lost, and if the ministers 
 and lay workers are stimulated to higher 
 reaches of service, then this little volume will 
 be worth while, and will have accomplished 
 its purpose. 
 
 Charles A. Stare. 
 
 New York, January, 1912. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I have read a number of the stories in Mr. 
 Starr's "The Underworld and the Upper," 
 and am pleased to commend the general sub- 
 ject and Mr. Starr's manner of treating it. 
 If I can judge by the effect that a similar book 
 — "Twice Born Men" — produced on me and 
 on others with whom I have conversed, there 
 is a demand for such information as this book 
 furnishes. 
 
 Those who have not visited the slums of a 
 great city have no idea of the number of the 
 wrecks that float about on their eddying cur- 
 rents. The average man and woman have 
 little conception of the shameless depths to 
 which drink carries its victims; they do not 
 know to how many vices it is akin, and they 
 do not realize how hard it is for the fallen to 
 regain an honorable place among their fellows. 
 
 "The Underworld and the Upper" gives a 
 few glimpses — a few only of the multitude that 
 might be given — of the phases of life seen by 
 those who are devoting themselves to rescue 
 work. I say but a few, for at one meeting 
 at Hadley Rescue Hall which I attended, 
 nearly a dozen men gave experiences which 
 
 xiii 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 ran the entire gamut of sin and sorrow, and 
 more than a dozen rose for prayers. The 
 contrast between the two groups was striking : 
 the prodigals had all but forfeited their right 
 to claim a likeness to the Creator, while in 
 the reformed the image had been restored. 
 Both groups showed the need of One who can 
 "save to the uttermost," and the reformed 
 were living miracles. They testified to Christ's 
 continuing power to regenerate; and the 
 power to convert a polluted heart into a 
 spring overflowing with love — a worse than 
 worthless existence into a life of service — is 
 as mysterious as the power that nineteen 
 hundred years ago opened the eyes of the 
 blind, unstopped the ears of the deaf, and 
 called back the spirit from the grave. 
 
 But the book will not only give renewed 
 inspiration and new illustrations to those 
 engaged in Christian work, but it will hold 
 out hope to those who have been cast off by 
 friends and relatives; to these it may bring 
 a knowledge of Him "who sticketh closer than 
 a brother." It may mean life to some in 
 despair to know anew that man cannot fix a 
 limit to God's pardoning power or close the 
 door of mercy on a soul. 
 
 Allow me, then, to bespeak for "The Under- 
 world and the Upper" a reception and a read- 
 
INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 ing. I am sure it will prove helpful to both 
 those who desire to serve and those who need 
 assistance. 
 
 I have recently read a poem by Walter 
 Malone which is so in harmony with the lesson 
 taught in "The Underworld and the Upper" 
 that I venture to conclude with it. It is a 
 splendid word of cheer. 
 
 Opportunity 1 
 They do me wrong who say I come no more 
 
 When once I knock and fail to find you in; 
 For every day I stand outside your door, 
 
 And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win. 
 
 Wail not for precious chances past away, 
 
 Weep not for golden ages on the wane! 
 Each night I burn the records of the day — 
 
 At sunrise every soul is born again! 
 
 Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped, 
 To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb; 
 
 My judgments seal the dead past with its dead, 
 But never bind a moment yet to come. 
 
 Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep; 
 
 I lend my arm to all who say "I can!" 
 No shame-faced outcast ever sank so deep 
 
 But yet might rise and be again a man! 
 
 Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast? 
 
 Dost reel from righteous Retribution's blow? 
 Then turn from blotted archives of the past, 
 
 And find the future's pages white as snow. 
 
 Songs of East and West, by Walter Malone. 
 
XVI 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell; 
 
 Art thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven; 
 Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell, 
 
 Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 A Strong Arm Become Stronger 
 
 To Teddy the coming of a mission to the 
 Bowery was a matter of life and death. True, 
 there had been missions before that on the 
 Bowery, and others came at a later date, but 
 this mission really invaded Teddy as much as 
 it did the Bowery. What right had a mission 
 to start up alongside the gruesome Suicide 
 Hall? 
 
 The block in which Christians planted the 
 enterprise, which was in time destined to 
 transform the entire Bowery, seemed to 
 belong to Teddy. He had been born a few 
 blocks away, it is true, but he had lived in it, 
 or had been identified with the block for so 
 long that it seemed as though it were all his. 
 He had been a newsboy on one corner, had 
 been employed at one time or another in one 
 of the resorts on two sides of the block, and, 
 when the mission arrived, he was doorman in 
 another questionable place. He knew every 
 nook and corner of the block, with its "get- 
 aways" for those who would evade the police; 
 he knew all the crooked hallways and secret 
 doors of the very building in which the 
 
 l 
 
2 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 mission was located. When its founders 
 were inspecting the dark and forbidding 
 recesses of the building before they had 
 acquired it, they were themselves being in- 
 spected by Teddy, who had entered the build- 
 ing by the roof "to see what was going on." 
 
 It had been a dance hall for the elite of the 
 section at one time; it had been a "respect- 
 able" beer garden, with a concert stage, retro- 
 grading into a resort for evil characters and 
 vile deeds. There were a score of rooms where 
 games of chance might be found in operation 
 at once; still in place were the bars which 
 had kept the police from raiding the poolroom 
 which succeeded the concert garden. The 
 little half-oval apertures in the hall were still 
 there too. That was where the winner of a 
 bet on the races put in his ticket to the cashier, 
 whom he could not see, and obtained his win- 
 nings. What sort of a place was that for a 
 mission ! 
 
 "I'll have to go in and look those guys 
 over," said Teddy, when the painter and car- 
 penter were changing the dive into a gospel 
 mission. He was there the first night and 
 for many nights thereafter. You could see 
 him glide into a rear seat like an apparition ; 
 before the invitation was given he would glide 
 out in the same uncanny way ere one of the 
 
A STRONG ARM YOUTH 3 
 
 workers could reach him. He was attracted, 
 this child of the underworld, but he was as 
 suspicious as a guilty crook. 
 
 Some of the wiser ones did not try to reach 
 him, but left the shy one to a Higher Worker, 
 who knows the way to the Bowery heart, as 
 well as to the one nurtured amid more auspi- 
 cious influences. But once in a while they 
 found opportunity to get a hand on his 
 shoulder, to make him feel at home, or to say 
 a kind word, and, in time, to tell him of the 
 love of the Master for Bowery boys. To such 
 he invariably shook his head. He had been 
 led to admit that his mother had told him 
 about Jesus in childhood, but that he long 
 since had forgotten all about it. 
 
 Teddy was weighing the case carefully. 
 Schooled in the sharp practices of the under- 
 world, he mistrusted everyone not proven to 
 be "square." He took no one at his own esti- 
 mate. The testimonies of the converts sounded 
 so wonderful that he found himself unable to 
 believe them. 
 
 "If that's all true, I wish I could be like 
 that," he said to himself; then he reflected 
 that it couldn't be true. 
 
 Meanwhile, he was watching those men. 
 Many nights converts were shadowed by the 
 silent one. Alas ! he found many as he feared 
 
4 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 they would be, not living on the outside what 
 they professed within the mission. Some of 
 them, however, stood the acid test of his 
 sleuthing. They were pure gold from the 
 fire. 
 
 "Those guys is all right," he said to one 
 worker; "wish't / was." 
 
 He continued to draw his meager pay for 
 doing the dirty work for a man whose "pull" 
 at headquarters permitted him to continue his 
 questionable resort. 
 
 Teddy was not a bad young man ; there was 
 no vicious element in him when the rough 
 bark was peeled off. He was a creature of 
 environment. All of his playmates had grown 
 up to be tough, and he was no different. 
 Fighting all the while for life against every- 
 one else, why should he not learn all their 
 tough ways — and go a little farther, if he 
 could? 
 
 His godly mother advised him to be good, 
 and tried to get him started right, but he chose 
 the tough life. If there was a prize fight 
 about the neighborhood, as was frequent in 
 the days when the noted dives were kept by 
 ex-sluggers, Teddy was there with his friends. 
 They would all emulate the fight in some back 
 room until all had more or less skill and some 
 hitting ability. Teddy had a natural quick- 
 
A STRONG ARM YOUTH 5 
 
 ness and learned to hit a sudden and heavy 
 blow. 
 
 It was a very convenient blow when his 
 victim called for the police, because he 
 objected to the loss of his wallet, or watch, or 
 diamonds. This was not what Teddy and his 
 tough companions named them. They had a 
 lingo for their underworld operations, which 
 the police were not supposed to know, and as 
 the latter are close students of languages — 
 such as are used by crooks — the vocabulary 
 was changing constantly. 
 
 The youth had developed into a gangster. 
 When he worked it was a blind to conceal 
 from the police his real business, which was 
 to make money without work. It was so easy 
 to follow the half-drunken man with money 
 or valuables into a dark spot on a side street, 
 to place an arm under his chin, and shove the 
 man, half choked, into a doorway; it was the 
 work of an instant for deft fingers to remove 
 everything from his pockets that promised 
 ready cash and then shove the fellow out on 
 the sidewalk, with a blow which confused him. 
 When he recovered his senses enough to cry 
 for the police the strong-arm youths were out 
 of sight. 
 
 Others of the gang were expert in pick- 
 ing pockets. Teddy knew the psychological 
 
6 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 moment to land a blow in the victim's eye, if 
 he discovered the theft, that in the confusion 
 the confederates might escape; so he was a 
 good assistant in this line too. 
 
 At one period of his career he was a "lobby- 
 gow" in Chinatown, carrying messages, prin- 
 cipally for the "white wives" of the China- 
 men. Here he learned the ways of the almond- 
 eyes, with their gambling and policy, and 
 opium and cocaine-selling. He also met there 
 many a man whose "roll" was entirely dis- 
 proportionate to his wisdom, and usually the 
 "roll" changed ownership. 
 
 This was his state when he came to the mis- 
 sion. One New Year's Eve a watchnight 
 service was to be held. Teddy had been a 
 regular visitor for many months, still unyield- 
 ing, but with a battle raging within him be- 
 tween good and evil which no one suspected. 
 He came to see what a watchnight service was 
 like, for he never had heard of one before. 
 After a season of singing and testimony all 
 the converts were asked to gather at the plat- 
 form to pray out the old year and in the new. 
 
 This was something new; usually the men 
 Teddy knew would get drunk to celebrate the 
 event, but here were men praying! When 
 a plea was made for men to start the year 
 right, Teddy refused to yield, but just before 
 
A STRONG ARM YOUTH 7 
 
 the bells tolled the midnight hour Satan met 
 with a severe defeat, for Teddy arose from his 
 seat and started to join the others at the altar. 
 He was met with open arms all along the way, 
 and, amid the din from without which told of 
 a new year born, a shout arose, heard above 
 it all, and it told of a soul reborn. 
 
 The child of the streets was metamorphosed 
 into a child of the King in a very short time, 
 with a childlike faith that was a benediction 
 to others on the firing line. Of course he gave 
 up his job in the dive forthwith. Then he 
 found out that his speech needed mending to 
 conform to his new profession. He began to 
 pray — and to watch — and awoke one night to 
 a realization that he did not want to use 
 wrong words any more and actually was not 
 doing so. Other inclinations of the past 
 dropped away in the same manner. He told 
 one of his new friends after a time: "I saw a 
 man down the street last night with a 'rock' 
 as big as a dime. I could have taken it easily, 
 but somehow I didn't do it. I don't under- 
 stand what has come over me; I didn't want 
 his diamond. I don't understand it." 
 
 It had not dawned upon him until his friend 
 explained how old things pass away and all 
 things become new to him who accepts Jesus ; 
 that this was why he no longer wanted to 
 
8 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 steal. His testimony thereafter rang afresh 
 as he told how God had taken away the desire 
 to steal. A little while later he found that he 
 no longer wanted to use his fistic skill to right 
 his own or his neighbor's wrongs. Indeed, the 
 hold-up child of the Bowery underworld had 
 been transformed. From striving after "easy 
 money" he had begun to work honestly at a 
 trade, and became far happier than he had 
 thought possible. 
 
 Others than the converts at the mission saw 
 the change, however. Teddy walking down 
 the Bowery, or some other East Side street 
 where he was known, became a living epistle 
 known and read of all men. His associates 
 could not understand what had caused the 
 change until Teddy told them it was Jesus, 
 his new Friend ; even then they wondered. 
 
 His old boss at the saloon wondered too. 
 He had known Teddy for many years, and 
 had he heard that the young man had been 
 sent to jail he would have manifested no sur- 
 prise. But to be changed into a clean and 
 straight fellow, as different from his former 
 self as the day is from night, was another 
 thing. 
 
 He was forced to believe there was some- 
 thing in the religion he did not understand. 
 He had scoffed at it, but there was Teddy. 
 
A STRONG ARM YOUTH 9 
 
 There were many insincere Christians; but 
 Teddy, he wasn't. He knew that Teddy was 
 not a fakir; that while he might parry or 
 evade questioning, he would not lie when it 
 came to the test, in the old life. Therefore he 
 was sure that there was nothing false about 
 the new life. And it stood before him and 
 troubled him more than he liked to admit. 
 
 One night, in the shadow of his side-door 
 vestibule, where he was a lookout, because his 
 saloon was open after hours, and men and 
 women were entering the Raines law resort, 
 he confessed that Teddy puzzled him and had 
 him thinking very hard. 
 
 "I wish I could get out of this business," 
 he said; "it don't seem right any more. But 
 what is a man to do? Here I have all my 
 money in this business and I can't get out. 
 But isn't it great the way Teddy is holding 
 out?" 
 
 That was the secret; Teddy had troubled 
 him. Scarce a word he spoke about it to his 
 former associates, but his life told the story 
 of salvation as lips could not. 
 
 The saloon man has been lured within the 
 mission more than once, and the workers do 
 not think it beyond the limits of faith to 
 expect his conversion some day. If it ever 
 comes, it will not be from the missionary's 
 
10 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 word or works, nor from what the other con- 
 verts have to say; these may all have their 
 part in the work of grace, but the chief factor 
 will be a sermon writ in flesh and blood in 
 the person of Teddy. 
 
 Teddy's old mother lived long enough to 
 know of the wonderful change in her boy and 
 to rejoice therein. Now Teddy has but two 
 objects in life, to meet his dear old mother 
 again one day, and to help others into the 
 kingdom. 
 
 "If anyone had ever told me I would go to 
 work at a trade and quit the crooked life," he 
 said one night, "I would have told him he was 
 'nutty.' " 
 
 But the "strong arm" of the underworld 
 has become the far stronger one of the upper; 
 it is strong enough to labor honestly now; it 
 is strong enough to raise a fallen brother. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 An International Panhandler 
 
 "Panhandling," in the language of the 
 underworld, originally meant the class of 
 begging followed by the man or woman whose 
 particular "graft" was to shove out a small 
 tin pan before those passings elevated railroad 
 stations or other much frequented places. 
 This distinguished them from the ones who 
 "sold" lead pencils, threw "sympathy fits" in 
 the crowd, or plied one of the hundred other 
 means of gaining a living without working 
 which are to be found in any large city. It 
 has come to mean almost any means of acquir- 
 ing money "by the wits," as contrasted with 
 criminal acts. 
 
 "Panhandler" was the title of a stalwart 
 man who called at the American Embassy in 
 London during the term of the late Thomas 
 F. Bayard as Minister to the Court of Saint 
 James. 
 
 "Mr. Bayard, I am an American and I am 
 in distress. I am a native of Virginia. You 
 have noticed that the name on my card is that 
 of a former President. He was my grand- 
 father. I am named after an ancestor of my 
 11 
 
12 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 mother, who was chaplain to George Washing- 
 ton during the winter of Valley Forge. I 
 have met with bad luck in London and I want 
 to get home. Will you help me?" 
 
 This was the suave self-introduction of the 
 stranger. It was followed by a story of 
 twenty years of globe-trotting, couched in 
 words that stamped the speaker as a man of 
 education. The dark side of the twenty years 
 was not referred to, neither was the fact that 
 the "bad luck" experienced was only that his 
 purse was not of equal extent with the drink 
 supply of England and the Continent. He 
 got the money, as he had from every other 
 American representative with whom he had 
 come in contact in the latter half of the twenty 
 years; likewise from every American tourist 
 who could be deceived by his blandishments. 
 
 He was not a tramp, though it was no 
 novelty for him to "take the road." He was 
 too well dressed for a tramp, and he would 
 work — actually preferred to, between sprees 
 — and no one yet has discovered a real tramp 
 with a desire to labor, except it be to escape 
 a severer punishment, and the emergency 
 must be stringent. 
 
 If you had asked him why he was a wan- 
 derer, the answer probably would have been 
 that he wanted to see the world. In his heart 
 
AN INTERNATIONAL PANHANDLER 13 
 
 he knew that was not the reason, but he could 
 not have explained the underlying principle 
 of the unrest which impelled him to move on 
 and on. He did not know that he was seeking 
 rest, peace of heart; how could he know that 
 he craved a thing of which he had no concep- 
 tion? He called it wanderlust; it was more 
 than that. It was soul hunger and thirst 
 — not the thirst which caused his heavy and 
 constant drinking, but that which only a 
 draught of the living waters can assuage. 
 
 Thousands of men are drifting along the 
 world arteries with no greater realization of 
 the reason. On, on, always going somewhere, 
 but never arriving; finding one town after 
 another has no place for them, soon they take 
 the "blind baggage" or car roof to the next 
 place, only to repeat the experience there. 
 
 We have been slow to comprehend what is 
 called the "tramp nuisance." We have studied 
 it from almost every other angle, but we have 
 failed to see a spiritual truth exemplified in 
 the hobo, and we have failed to apply, except 
 in incipient cases, the soul remedy, the only 
 one of avail. It is not an evil to be solved by 
 philosophy, or philanthropy, by soup-houses, 
 or workhouses, or by prisons, but by applied 
 theology. We must strike deeper to find the 
 root of this disease of the body politic, and 
 
14 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 must understand the yearning of a soul 
 which sends him searching up and down the 
 earth for that which Jesus Christ alone can 
 give. There is need of an "Apostle to the 
 Wanderer/' to bear him the message of salva- 
 tion as a satisfaction for that unutterable 
 yearning. Millionaires who have become 
 hobos that they might study causes have 
 brought no solution of the tramp question; 
 humble missionaries have seen it solved num- 
 berless times. 
 
 Native of the Old Dominion, reared in 
 luxury, an "F. F. V." in his own right, the 
 childhood and youth of Clarke gave no 
 promise of life-wreck. From the ancestral 
 mansion to the pauper's couch on the floor of 
 a pleasure pavilion in a public park is a far 
 reach, undreamed of in those days; but sin 
 drives so many beloved sons into the far 
 country. 
 
 While attending a private school in his 
 native State, with other students he visited 
 the Monticello home of Thomas Jefferson. 
 There a drink of whisky was offered the lad — 
 his first. He drank it with no thought that 
 he would become a drunkard, or that forty- 
 two years later he would be seeking a cure, 
 and that he would find the only one. 
 
 In college he kept up the hot pace of the 
 
AN INTERNATIONAL PANHANDLER 15 
 
 fastest set. He had money and a strong con- 
 stitution, and he emerged from college with a 
 fixed habit. He still maintained his respecta- 
 bility, the high standing of his family cover- 
 ing his faults. 
 
 After the death of his father a large sum of 
 money came to him. It was the signal for 
 beginning a debauch which lasted for two 
 years. Wine, fast company, luxury, and 
 prodigality all contributed to the wreck which 
 came at the end of that period, when Clarke 
 found that he was broke. 
 
 Most persons start to see the world when 
 the purse is corpulent. The reverse stimu- 
 lated Clarke to that intent. He worked, 
 "bummed," or panhandled his way around the 
 world five times. Sometimes he was upon the 
 pinnacle of prosperity; more often he was on 
 the toboggan of defeat; always he was drop- 
 ping lower in the social scale and that scale 
 of self-respect by which one measures his own 
 character. 
 
 The international tramp sometimes may 
 seem to be, but actually very seldom is, in a 
 hurry. With more time than money at his 
 disposal, strange scenes allure him until the 
 novelty wears off ; then it is on to the pursuit 
 of the will-o'-the-wisp — something new — once 
 more. So it was with Clarke; he became as 
 
16 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 familiar with Whitechapel haunts in London, 
 with the Latin Quarter of Paris, the fan-tan 
 joints of Hong Kong, the Boca of Buenos 
 Ayres, or the Levee of Chicago and China- 
 town of San Francisco, as with the Bowery 
 of New York, and he was at home in any of 
 them. 
 
 In the bush country of Australia he became 
 a "swagga" of the land ; he earned and begged 
 his way among the swarms of beggars of 
 Bamboo Square and Flag Street, in Calcutta. 
 Like Paul, but with different purpose, might 
 he have said, "I am become all things to all 
 men." Strangely, he never got into jail. 
 They were plenty enough along the route ; this 
 universal institution had not lacked keepers 
 nor incentive for utilizing their services. Per- 
 haps it was his predisposition to work that 
 militated to keep Clarke out of jail. 
 
 A rugged constitution refused to be 
 wrecked by drink and neglect; abused mental 
 powers came out clear from debauch after 
 debauch. Sober, he preferred to work ; drunk, 
 he could not or would not work, and no 
 person was high enough to escape his persua- 
 sive begging. 
 
 One day he saw an American flag in the 
 harbor of a far-off quarter of the globe and it 
 thrilled him more than anything he had seen 
 
AN INTERNATIONAL PANHANDLER 17 
 
 in years. He was sober at the time and he 
 resolved to see his old home again. It was 
 on the homestretch of this jaunt that his lofti- 
 est panhandling was accomplished, including 
 the incident related. Foreign representatives 
 of the United States furnished him a large 
 part of the passage money to New York. 
 
 Arriving with but a few dollars, he sought 
 and obtained work, taking the first thing 
 which offered itself. As before, pay day was 
 the signal for a spree. In foreign lands, 
 where pay day comes once a quarter, he had 
 been sober that long at a stretch. Where pay 
 day came with Saturday night, Sunday found 
 him maudlin — and broke — as a rule; gener- 
 ally, Monday or Tuesday he found a new job. 
 Almost everything dignified with the name of 
 labor fell to his lot, until there came a time 
 when all avenues of employment were closed 
 because of his habits and condition. Nor 
 could he put on "a front" and beg. His 
 friends understood him too well to be taken 
 in by his blandishments ; his stories lost their 
 novelty, his appeals their force. 
 
 And none but the ransomed ever knew 
 
 How deep were the waters crossed, 
 Or how dark the night that the Lord passed through — 
 
 No one has been able to picture adequately 
 the despair which engulfs a man when he first 
 
18 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 feels himself lost. He does not come to that 
 realization suddenly, though it always startles 
 him. It has been seeping through the brain 
 tissues, spurring at times an effort to escape 
 the vortex into which consciousness tells him 
 he is being drawn; but there is always hope 
 ahead. Something will turn up, surely ! 
 
 One day there flashes upon him the feeling 
 which came to the prodigal son out among the 
 swine. No man gave unto him! If he 
 remember that story, perchance he will say: 
 "Well, that fellow was not so badly off as I 
 am ; at least he had a job. No one wants me." 
 Happy the man who remembers more — of the 
 Father and his welcome; w T ho simulates the 
 prodigal and says, "I will arise and go unto 
 my Father." Too often he thinks he will, but 
 what he says is, "0, I never could face that 
 brother." 
 
 Without money, friends, or work, if Clarke 
 thought at all, it was to wonder how long 
 the police would allow him to occupy a park 
 bench at night, or the pavilion floor if it 
 rained or snowed, or to wonder where he could 
 get the nickel for a drink — and the free lunch. 
 Sodden with drink, his strong frame impover- 
 ished, who would have given even a paltry 
 dollar for the creature which lay prone on the 
 stone floor of the pavilion, one of a hundred 
 
AN INTERNATIONAL PANHANDLER 19 
 
 once strong men, each more hopeless than his 
 fellow, if that be possible? 
 
 Shambling about in the day, scanning the 
 faces of the throng to find one of charitable 
 mien; slinking into the cover of darkness at 
 night to evade the too close espionage of the 
 police — O, the wretchedness of it all! Is 
 there hope for such as these? Are they of the 
 "whosoever"? 
 
 One day Clarke missed a drink. "No man 
 gave unto him" again. Soberness was not a 
 fault but a necessity. From some deep recess 
 of memory came a story once heard in a mis- 
 sion. Thirty years before, then a young 
 Southern swell, he had piloted a party of 
 ladies through the slums to a mission near 
 the water front. Jerry McAuley had spoken, 
 and then "Slippery Pete" had told how he was 
 rescued from a life of crime. The stories had 
 persisted, particularly the latter, and it was 
 making him think on this hopeless day. 
 
 "I'll go down and see if that mission is still 
 there," he said to himself. "Maybe I'll hear 
 another story like that." 
 
 He heard a dozen ; thank God that men who 
 have come out of the fire are eager to tell the 
 story of their redemption. 
 
 "Maybe there is & chance," he said; "I'll 
 try." 
 
20 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 With other "bums" he knelt and prayed. 
 Praying, he felt the presence of Jesus Christ 
 and heard him whisper of pardon. 
 
 There was a struggle for a time, for the 
 devil was reluctant to lose so faithful a serv- 
 ant. But the God of all peace strengthened 
 him in the inner man and kept him from 
 being utterly cast down by temptations. His 
 first job was as bed-maker in a Bowery lodg- 
 ing house, and paid seventy-five cents a day 
 and lodging. Faithfulness won promotion to 
 a clerkship at seven dollars a week and room. 
 Then, as manhood returned, other opportu- 
 nities opened. He became a painter in a hos- 
 pital where he had been an alcoholic patient 
 before. 
 
 One day he met an old-time friend whom 
 he had "bummed" for the price of a drink 
 many times. That man saw the change 
 wrought by the gospel writ clear in his coun- 
 tenance, heard the story of the transformation, 
 and, eager to help on the work which God had 
 started, he told Clarke to come and see him. 
 First as porter, then as superintendent of a 
 big business block in the center of the city, 
 the world tramp and panhandler of ambas- 
 sadors came back to his own. 
 
 Night after night in some place he tells the 
 story of his downfall and uprising, for he has 
 
AN INTERNATIONAL PANHANDLER 21 
 
 passed from the degree "Joy of salvation" to 
 that of "Joy of service," and gladly takes up 
 his cross. The men beside whom he slept in 
 the park believe in him and give credit to the 
 God who saved him. 
 
 Several years after his conversion Clarke 
 forsook worldly occupation, that he might 
 have more time to speak for his Master, and 
 now is an evangelist, with a message to all, 
 but especially to the lost. 
 
 The once proud son of the South has found 
 a new country, of which he is proud — the 
 Kingdom of Peace. Pride of birth? Yes, of 
 the new birth. Of family? Is he not adopted 
 as an heir to a throne? Yet he is one of the 
 humblest men about the mission, and in this 
 others see the sure sign of his sonship. 
 
CHAPTEE III 
 
 The Stowaway 
 
 Whisky had made Stanley a stowaway on 
 an Atlantic steamship. His family had sent 
 him money to travel in the cabin, but the ship 
 did not sail for twenty-four hours ; with a com- 
 panion he went to get a drink, took many, and 
 when the hour of departure arrived had no 
 money for passage. So he stowed away, 
 appearing, when the ship was well on her voy- 
 age, half starved and parched. The captain 
 had no use for a stowaway, but he had work 
 for Stanley and his companion when they dis- 
 covered themselves. The ship had a short 
 time before been under impress to carry 
 supplies to the British troops, and had taken 
 a cargo of flour to South Africa and then a 
 cargo of coal for the battleships. Between 
 the two the hold was incrusted with a thick 
 cake of mingled flour and coal dust, baked 
 hard by the heat of the hold. Stanley and his 
 partner were ordered to scrape the sides. It 
 was hard work, but they got across, which was 
 the main thing they desired; also they were 
 fed. 
 
 Stanley had been sent to England by his 
 
 22 
 
THE STOWAWAY 23 
 
 wife and family because he was coming home 
 drunk constantly and demanding money. He 
 had been a drunkard for several years, so 
 debauched that he could not be harbored by 
 them, and went to the house only when he 
 wanted money. Patience had vanished, and 
 his wife told him she would send him to any 
 other country he desired and forward regular 
 remittances to him if he would only remain 
 there. He had chosen England. 
 
 When the remittances came they were 
 quickly squandered in the alehouses; until 
 another arrived Stanley kept himself in drinks 
 and an occasional meal by small jobs he was 
 able to pick up. After a time the remittances 
 ceased and he became a tramp. In England 
 the tramp has no such easy time as is per- 
 mitted him in America. He is looked upon 
 with suspicion everywhere and few are chari- 
 table enough to feed him. It is usually a 
 struggle to feed those in the home, without 
 giving to the rough-visaged stranger at the 
 door. A curse more often than a crust is his 
 portion. 
 
 Stanley had found some work in the hop 
 fields and elsewhere in the farm districts, but 
 home labor had first call, and where there 
 always is an overplus the foreigner stands 
 little chance of securing work. Consequently, 
 
24 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 he frequently had to apply at the workhouses 
 for food and shelter. He earned all that he 
 received, for picking oakum or other work is 
 required, and the stint is not a trifling one. 
 
 On one occasion he had sat in a hall in one 
 of the cities where he heard that "cobs" of 
 bread were given to all who applied. Three 
 hours were spent in addresses, intended to 
 point the audience to a better life. Stanley 
 was starving, almost, and so tired that he slept 
 through most of the meeting; he roused up to 
 hear that there was a shortage of bread and 
 that all able-bodied men must pass out un- 
 satisfied, so that the crippled or otherwise 
 infirm might be supplied. Stanley had 
 strength in spite of his starving condition, 
 and he sadly left the place. 
 
 In desperation he finally begged the mate- 
 rials and wrote his wife of his condition, asking 
 that money be sent for the return passage, 
 promising on his part that he would keep 
 away from her when he reached America. 
 The money had been sent. 
 
 Stanley had been reared tenderly. The 
 home was one of sesthetic influences, for his 
 father, what time he had to spare from the 
 bank, indulged himself with his books and 
 with brush and canvas, with which he had con- 
 siderable skill and local renown. He was also 
 
THE STOWAWAY 25 
 
 a fisherman and wrote much of fish life and 
 fishing. Both parents were Christians, and 
 the children were brought under the influence 
 of the Church in infancy. 
 
 When but sixteen Stanley had taken his 
 first drink in a saloon. He was out with a 
 party of his associates, who initiated him that 
 night as "one of the boys." In the course of 
 time the desire to shine in that capacity rose 
 higher and higher, until his one ambition was 
 that he should be able to drink more than any 
 one of his companions — which ambition was 
 gratified. Then came gambling with cards 
 and on horse races and other forms of sin, 
 which led to debauchery and profligacy and 
 ruin. 
 
 He had been put in the bank as a junior, 
 eventually rising to be a bookkeeper; but all 
 the time habits were being formed which were 
 to dominate the life for years. "Seeing life" 
 was what he called the trips to the dens of 
 vice in the great city. He became familiar 
 with the phases of "life" seen in the low dance 
 halls and dives, which were then scattered 
 over the lower half of the city and flourished 
 without molestation, some of them being old 
 enough and notorious enough to have an inter- 
 national reputation. 
 
 The young bank clerk had a liberal salary, 
 
26 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 but he was always in debt because of his 
 habits, which finally caused him to lose his 
 place at the bank. Stanley saw whither he 
 was drifting and resolved to end his dissipa- 
 tion. As a part of this plan he married a 
 godly young woman whom he had known from 
 his school days ; on the night of their wedding 
 he imbibed freely, and for the first time the 
 bride learned of his drinking habit. He prom- 
 ised her he would quit, but the influence of his 
 companions was too much for his good resolu- 
 tions and in a short time he drank harder 
 than ever. 
 
 Of course he could not hold a position very 
 long, though he tried many times to change 
 his mode of life. The toboggan path is steep 
 to such, and the end is disaster. 
 
 He had come naturally by a fine tenor voice, 
 for both parents were choir singers, and 
 Stanley became a soloist of reputation, add- 
 ing to his income by choir and concert work. 
 Drink and cigarettes and disregard of his 
 vocal organs during his sprees obliged him at 
 last to give up his singing. 
 
 The time came when his wife, who had 
 nursed and fed and clothed him after repeated 
 debauches, felt that it was useless to try to 
 help him any longer, and Stanley was shipped 
 away. 
 
THE STOWAWAY 27 
 
 The first day he was off the ship on the 
 return he had found several friends, and they 
 had provided him with the means to become 
 very much intoxicated. He wanted to go 
 home as usual. A companion took him to the 
 home in the suburbs, stood him against the 
 door and rang the bell. 
 
 The wife, though almost overcome when 
 she saw the terrible condition of Stanley, took 
 him in, nursed him back to health, fitted him 
 out with presentable clothing, and gave him 
 money to travel to another city to apply for 
 a job being held open for him. He tarried by 
 the way, drinking, and when his destination 
 was reached, he found the job was gone — they 
 had given up hope of seeing him. 
 
 Stanley's money went in a few days, his 
 clothing was pawned, and the money was 
 spent for drink. He had been singing in the 
 dives along the water front for drinks and a 
 chance at the free lunch counter, and one 
 night went to bed in a sailors' lodging house. 
 When he awoke to consciousness he was in 
 a shipping office, his name attached to articles 
 which bound him to go with an oyster dredger 
 to the beds down the bay. In the shipping 
 office he and others who had been shanghaied 
 were kept stupefied with drink; what was 
 called "whisky" was kept in a bucket, in 
 
28 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 which was a tin dipper and all the men need 
 do to get a drink was to help themselves. 
 
 In this condition Stanley was sent aboard 
 the dredger and he was far down the bay when 
 he awoke. This method of shanghaiing men 
 after filling them with drink is still in opera- 
 tion in some ports; though efforts have been 
 made to break up the practice. 
 
 Stanley froze his feet during one cold snap, 
 and was set ashore with money enough to 
 enable him to reach a hospital. When he was 
 well he came North again, and at an address- 
 ing establishment he made enough to provide 
 lodging, drinks, and — sometimes* — meals. 
 
 The addressing establishment, where en- 
 velopes and wrappers are given a name and 
 street address from a prepared list or from city 
 directories, has kept many a drunkard in 
 drinks and furnished a bare existence for 
 down-and-out mankind. At seventy-five cents 
 to one dollar a thousand from a dollar to a 
 dollar and a half a day can be made when there 
 is work. Many a former drunkard too has 
 obtained a new start in life. A successful 
 author of the present day began to remake 
 life in one such place; likewise a man who 
 has attained some prominence in Methodist 
 affairs; and numerous cases might be cited. 
 When you receive the circular and toss the 
 
THE STOWAWAY 29 
 
 envelope carelessly aside, breathe a prayer for 
 the man who addressed it. He may be grop- 
 ing in darkness; he may be striving to reach 
 the light. 
 
 Stanley's love of music was the instrument 
 God used to bring him to himself. One night 
 he went into a mission to hear the singing, 
 which one of his chums said was exceptional. 
 When he sat down they were singing "Bring 
 Peace to My Soul To-day." 
 
 "Can there be such a thing as peace?" he 
 pondered ; "certainly I have not had any peace 
 for so long that I can hardly remember it." 
 
 He heard the stirring testimony of a man 
 who had wandered about like himself, and a 
 score of others who duplicated parts of his 
 experience, and when the invitation hymn was 
 started he was ready to capitulate. They 
 sang, 
 
 " I've wandered far away from God, 
 Now I'm coming home," 
 
 and home he came; and the God of all peace 
 brought peace and pardon to his soul, and his 
 wanderings were over. 
 
 He was destined to be tested of God. When 
 his efforts to secure employment away from 
 the old surroundings had proven futile, in 
 sheer desperation he shipped to a Southern 
 railroad camp, never dreaming of the hard- 
 
30 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 ships before him. When he could endure it no 
 longer he walked — most of the way — back to 
 the North and made his way to the mission. 
 
 In less than a year from his conversion he 
 had convinced his wife that the change was 
 permanent, and for a number of years they 
 have been together with their son, whose 
 twenty-first birthday fell on the night Stanley 
 found himself, a fact that had much to do 
 with breaking up the stony heart for the min- 
 istration of the Spirit. 
 
 After an unusual struggle to rise again, he 
 secured a splendid position, and though ill- 
 ness and other troubles have oppressed him, 
 he would not surrender his peaceful, happy 
 home life for all that the world has to offer. 
 He never lost the desire to drink, but God gave 
 him the strength to win out, so that it has not 
 regained mastery over him. 
 
 His voice has been restored gradually, and 
 rings out in songs of salvation instead of the 
 melodies with which he once earned drinks 
 and a welcome in the low dives. 
 
 Shipped now in the Old Ship Zion, he is 
 earning his passage once more, though not as 
 a stowaway, and one day expects to be dis- 
 charged in the port of the Homeland. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 A Frat House Confession 
 
 "Believe me, fellows, I've played the game ; 
 it isn't worth the candle." 
 
 In the center of a group of young college 
 men in the "frat" house of an Eastern uni- 
 versity, reclining with them among the pillows 
 in a cozy corner, sat a handsome young man, 
 whose clean-cut visage betokened shrewdness 
 and whose manner and speech gave evidence 
 of refinement. He was talking earnestly with 
 the members of the group, one or two of whom 
 had evidently been indulging in recent dis- 
 sipation, shown in flushed faces and disor- 
 dered apparel. A slight discoloration of one 
 eye of a slender youth gave "color" to the 
 scene; shamefaced, the eyes of several of the 
 party sought the rug, and all were thinking 
 deeply and without remark. 
 
 There had been a supper. Wine had passed 
 the lips of the slender youth for the first time ; 
 all had indulged enough to fire the boisterous 
 spirit, and then had followed a "night of it." 
 It was morning now and remorse was written 
 on every brow. They had just heard that the 
 winecup and the royster were not the highest 
 
 31 
 
32 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 goal for a student. They had heard it from 
 the lips of a college man, together with a story 
 which told them that the speaker knew 
 whereof he spoke. 
 
 He had recalled a similar occasion, while 
 attending a Southern university, when his 
 first drink of wine was taken; then he had 
 sketched rapidly before their vision the ease 
 with which he had gradated to the casual, 
 then the moderate drinker, then to the fixed 
 habit, on down until, a tramp, he had landed 
 in a large city without a penny, reduced to 
 sleeping in parks; homeless, friendless, and 
 hopeless. 
 
 He had come of a Southern family of proud 
 lineage. The blood of a Eevolutionary gen- 
 eral mingled in his veins with that of a man 
 who will be remembered as long as the govern- 
 ment school he founded. He was the cousin of 
 a President of the United States. His father 
 a lawyer-orator known outside the State 
 where he practiced; his mother a sweet-voiced 
 Christian woman with all the graces and 
 beauty of the Southron ; his home an ancestral 
 mansion set beneath centuries-old trees; his 
 every want supplied — surely there must be 
 some mistake about that park bench — about 
 the tramp! 
 
 There were heartburnings and heart-search- 
 
A FRAT HOUSE CONFESSION 33 
 
 ings as the story unfolded. When did the 
 story of sin — and salvation — ever fail to thrill 
 and to provoke introspection? The mother 
 had gone from the home when he was twelve 
 and the father was scarcely the one to nurture 
 the lad in the teachings of the mother. His 
 beliefs lay along a different course. He did 
 not accept the Bible, and his chief delight was 
 to find some new section to tear to pieces, 
 fancying he was at the same time tearing 
 down the Christian faith. Was there a flaw 
 in the Christian character of a man or woman 
 in the neighborhood? It served to bring a 
 sneer about religion. 
 
 The children — five motherless birdlings left 
 in the nest — were allowed to go to church out 
 of respect for the one who had passed on. All 
 were confirmed in their church, but their con- 
 ception of Christ and his teachings was vague. 
 His day was Sunday; the other days were 
 theirs, except for the appointed feasts. 
 
 College days came. Young Merton was a 
 virile youth to whom sin in repulsive form 
 had not come. He was clean-lived, and never 
 had had a drink; nor, stranger still, achieved 
 to the usual vices of the idle rich man's son. 
 With social standing, money, ability, he was 
 welcomed by the blue-blooded youth of the 
 university and was soon taken into the "frat," 
 
34 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 in whose house at another university the story 
 was being related. Baseball was second 
 nature to him, and he was chosen one of the 
 nine sent to compete at a world's fair with 
 the flower of the colleges of the nation. 
 
 In the "frat" house he had taken his first 
 drink, while yet a freshman. In the rosy 
 visions which the alcohol inspired there was 
 none of the broken-down drunkard, of shame, 
 or disgrace. Yet that first drink made him 
 the drunkard, with all its accompaniments. 
 As an athlete he was not allowed to drink 
 more than casually; but this was enough. 
 The habit was formed; chains were forged 
 beyond all human power to break. As usual, 
 the victim knew not of this. He did not 
 realize that he already was a slave, so, of 
 course, had not the slightest desire for free- 
 dom. In the estimation of his fellows it was 
 gentleman; that he ever would drink as a 
 gentleman; that he would ever drink as a 
 "bum" never occurred to him. 
 
 Merton had all this in mind as he spoke 
 earnestly to the group about him. He was 
 determined that they should see in his expe- 
 rience the insidious power of alcohol; hating 
 it with all his soul, he sought to point out the 
 two paths and the sure destination of each. 
 He knew that Christ was the only sure cure 
 
A FRAT HOUSE CONFESSION 35 
 
 for the drunkard, as for every other sin. Lov- 
 ing him, he sought to bring him into the lives 
 of the young students. 
 
 When Merton graduated it was with 
 honors — and a habit. He thought to follow 
 in the footsteps of his father at the bar; but 
 cigarettes and drink sapped his stability, and 
 in the end he was attached to another kind 
 of bar. To dance, or play tennis, or some other 
 society good time, offered far more pleasure 
 than the perusal of dry tomes of legal lore, 
 and because of dissipation he could not pin 
 himself down to study. The bar was aban- 
 doned for business. This prospered, so that 
 he had a good income, but the gay society life 
 had its attractions; he was in demand to lead 
 the cotillon, and social engagements overshad- 
 owed business. After nights of the butterfly 
 life — no, it is moths that fly when candles are 
 lighted, to singe their wings — business had 
 little to attract him and he drank more than 
 ever to keep up his flagging energies. Gam- 
 bling with his young-blood companions offered 
 a means of supplementing his income, the de- 
 mands upon which had grown faster than 
 the salary given him. Yet he would have 
 passed for the equal of any young man of 
 promise in the town. The park bench was 
 not even in the dim perspective. 
 
36 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 Merton was a regular churchgoer on Sun- 
 days. The rest of the week he was drinking, 
 racing, or playing the races or the market, 
 frequenting prize fights, or being fleeced by 
 some professional gambler. Several of the 
 latter gentry forced the father to settle the 
 son's debts. Whisky was too mild by this 
 time; absinthe was required to steady his 
 nerves. He had become a drunkard. One day 
 his father, enraged by his hopeless, degenerate 
 condition, ordered him from the home. 
 
 The boy had married, in the meantime, a 
 charming Southern girl, and though for two 
 years the husband had not drawn a sober 
 breath, she refused to desert him, even when 
 the father turned against his boy. The father 
 advised her not to stick to her husband, but, 
 when she refused, gave her a large-sized check, 
 telling his son that he did not want to see his 
 face again, and that the home was barred to 
 him forever. 
 
 To another State farther north the couple 
 traveled, he hoping to secure a position, she 
 trusting that fate would usher in a new regime 
 in her home. But it did not. Merton secured 
 a position with one of the large trusts at a 
 good salary. He strove and succeeded and 
 was well liked. But he did not end his drink- 
 ing. It had too firm a hold upon him to be 
 
A FRAT HOUSE CONFESSION 37 
 
 affected by wishes and resolutions, and he 
 drank worse than ever. Night after night he 
 awoke craving the drink that only brought a 
 greater thirst. He kept a bottle under his 
 pillow, or within reach of his hand, for he 
 had to have it. He kept a bottle in his desk 
 by day for the same reason. 
 
 One day while he was at lunch one of the 
 officers of the corporation had occasion to 
 look for some papers in the young man's desk. 
 The bottle was found, there was a scene, and 
 the clerk was discharged. Even soulless cor- 
 porations have no use nowadays for the man 
 who drinks; one who, at least, cannot wait 
 until after office hours is impossible. 
 
 Long before this the wife's check from the 
 father was gone. It had been put in a bank in 
 her name, but under pleas that sums were 
 needed for pressing claims, she signed small 
 checks in favor of the husband. He raised the 
 amounts and squandered the money in drink. 
 Clothing, jewelry, and everything else with a 
 pawnshop value went there to satisfy the 
 demon within him. Some months before the 
 end came the wife had returned in sorrow to 
 her home in the South. She felt that there 
 was no hope for her husband. 
 
 Existing for a number of weeks in another 
 city, borrowing small sums from friends and 
 
38 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 "hanging out" at a swell bar, he at length 
 came to a point where those friends were tired 
 of being "panhandled" and bade him begone. 
 In another city, nearer the metropolis, he 
 sought work vainly. Down to his last dollar, 
 it too went for drink. Then his watch went, 
 and he sent pleading telegrams to a brother at 
 the old home and to another, a broker in the 
 North. Of course neither sent a reply. They 
 knew that the money asked, if given, would 
 all go to the saloon man. 
 
 "Let him starve. Maybe, if he gets good 
 and hungry, it will do him good. Let's see; 
 the prodigal did not come to himself until 
 after no man gave unto him. Well, we'll try 
 that plan. Everything else has failed," 
 
 That was the way the brothers reasoned. 
 Had there been a reliable cure for the 
 brother, they would have given large sums 
 for his treatment. They knew not that the 
 Great Physician would heal him without 
 money or price. 
 
 O, the irony of fate! Here was a man 
 robbed of everything he possessed that was 
 worth while, unless it be life — penniless, a 
 wanderer, sleeping on the park benches in a 
 county named for his illustrious ancestor. 
 
 At the railway station, where he sought the 
 telegram which never came, he was accosted 
 
A FRAT HOUSE CONFESSION 39 
 
 by a stranger who first inquired the name and 
 then said he had once been aided by the 
 wretched semblance of a man he addressed. A 
 small sum of money, sufficient to pay fare to 
 the metropolis, was asked and given, and with 
 it a cordial invitation to call on the friend 
 when that city was reached. 
 
 It was cheaper by the trolley and the trip 
 was made that way. What had been saved 
 was represented in a bottle of whisky. On the 
 verge of delirium, he felt that he must have 
 drink at hand if that awful moment came 
 while on the trolley car, else he would die 
 before he could get the whisky. 
 
 When he reached his brother's office in the 
 city he found him gone to Europe — sailed the 
 day before. From college chums and other 
 friends, and by the many devices of the drunk- 
 ard, he obtained money to keep him in food 
 and drink — principally the latter — for about 
 two months. Then these avenues were closed 
 to him. There was only one more to "touch 
 up"; this was a relative in the financial dis- 
 trict. He was a working Christian, a friend 
 of the rescue missions, a coworker with the 
 late Rev. Samuel H. Hadley, the "Apostle to 
 the Outcast." Though he had shunned the 
 cousin for that very reason, it was through 
 him that the whole world was to be made 
 
40 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 over to Merton and a human soul to be re- 
 claimed. 
 
 When no man gave the cousin was appealed 
 to. Warning had come before the visit, the 
 family sending word not to give money to 
 Merton, who was reported hopeless. But the 
 cousin loved the Master and knew his power 
 to save to the uttermost and was waiting for 
 the visit. 
 
 When he came the wreck of sin was so com- 
 plete that it was necessary to ask that he 
 should not visit the office again, but meet the 
 cousin elsewhere. Money was given, and with 
 it a homily on the young man's duty to him- 
 self and others and to God, and a testimony 
 that through Jesus Christ he might find 
 release from his evil ways. Unlike the others, 
 the cousin bade him "come again' ' to an 
 appointed rendezvous. , In a week he was 
 back, worse, if that were possible. 
 
 "I wish you would go down to this place 
 and bring me back a book," said the cousin, 
 handing him a slip of paper with a name and 
 address upon it. The address was that of 
 Mr. Hadley's mission. The latter's assistant 
 was there when the tramp arrived, and he 
 knew what to do with such a case. He had 
 gone through a like experience before becom- 
 ing a soul-winner. The mission janitor, once 
 
A FRAT HOUSE CONFESSION 41 
 
 a train robber, welcomed the visitor and took 
 him to the office. After a short talk, in which 
 the assistant superintendent unfolded the way 
 of escape from drink, the two knelt and 
 prayed. Probably it made little impression 
 on the one; it was the prayer of faith for the 
 other — faith which knew how richly God ful- 
 fills his promises. To the down and out, any- 
 thing which promised relief was welcomed. 
 
 The question is often asked in rescue mis- 
 sions how many of the thousands who kneel 
 at the altar are really saved. Mr. Hadley 
 used to reply to the query: "I don't know. 
 We don't keep the books down here. I shall 
 never know until we all stand before the 
 judgment bar. But I know that enough are 
 saved to keep me telling the story; that's my 
 part of the work." 
 
 But he told his friends, also, that as many 
 as could be brought under Christian influ- 
 ences were landed for eternity, usually, and 
 he spent much of his energy in following up 
 the converts. God speed the day when Chris- 
 tian men and women will endow the missions 
 liberally enough to enable a work of conserva- 
 tion to be prosecuted on a large scale. 
 
 When the book was carried to the cousin 
 a reluctant promise was obtained to attend 
 the mission meeting that night. 
 
42 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 Who can describe the act of salvation? 
 What words can depict the influence which 
 comes upon men in the presence of Jesus and 
 his present-day disciples, filled like those of 
 old with a love and a vision? 
 
 The meeting was starting as the relatives 
 entered. God sent a prophet for the occasion. 
 A converted gambler led the meeting, a man 
 whose soul yearned after the lost and who 
 told the miracle of salvation in his own life. 
 
 When he related how he had knelt in a mis- 
 sion hall and prayed God to give his wife a 
 new husband and his children a new father, 
 after whisky and cards had taken all he had 
 and driven him from home, the young tramp 
 thought of his wife in the far away Southland 
 and wondered if he would ever see her again ; 
 wondered if some such change might not come 
 to him. He loved his wife, but he loved 
 whisky better. No! He loathed whisky, but 
 he must have it, for the demon was in control. 
 
 Then, one after another, men stood up and 
 told how a similar change had come to them 
 by calling upon Jesus to save them. Some of 
 the men told stories much like his own expe- 
 riences of the last few years. Some of them 
 he recognized as men of education and former 
 social standing; others by their speech be- 
 trayed the lack of instruction and elevating 
 
A FRAT HOUSE CONFESSION 43 
 
 surroundings. But they all had the one tale. 
 They had been Down and Out, and were now 
 Up and Doing, and they looked it. 
 
 Not content with simply telling men of the 
 power of God unto salvation, in a mission a 
 chance is always afforded any who wish to 
 pour out their broken hearts at the mercy 
 seat. When the invitation was given, asking 
 those who wished prayers to hold up their 
 hands, one hand went up, and one heart al- 
 most stopped beating in anticipation. A mo- 
 ment later another invitation brought him to 
 his feet, and with bowed head and streaming 
 eyes he walked up the narrow aisle and knelt 
 with a dozen other tramps, crooks, and drunk- 
 ards. The college boy had reached the depths 
 of humiliation ; but he had reached the heights 
 of hope also, and he prayed as though his life 
 depended upon it, as it did. He had forgot- 
 ten all about his pride of birth, had even for- 
 gotten his present misery in the realization 
 of his sins, and he pleaded the prayer of the 
 prodigal so sincerely that it reached the ear 
 of the Almighty, with whom to hear means 
 forgiveness for the penitent one. 
 
 His cousin and other friends raised up of 
 God nurtured the newborn babe of the king- 
 dom; the cousin was an almost constant com- 
 panion, and for seven months they lunched 
 
44 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 together at noon and went together to the 
 mission at night. The mission converts re- 
 ceived him cordially — lovingly — their friend- 
 ship interpreting brotherhood to him in a new 
 way. 
 
 This was the story which the college group 
 heard; the result of the gospel power was in 
 their midst. Flushed faces deepened in color, 
 and a moistness of the eyes betrayed how 
 deeply many of them were moved by the tale. 
 
 "Fellows, I have proved it. God can save 
 the drunkard, but he can save you from being 
 drunkards too, and he can make you clean and 
 rightlived," said Merton. 
 
 In the quiet of the lounging place one after 
 another of the boys decided for Christ and 
 pledged themselves to tell of his power on 
 earth at every possible opportunity. 
 
 Tramp no longer, his perpetual thirst 
 overcome by the living waters of the promise, 
 as an ambassador of a group of college men 
 and under the direction of a religious institu- 
 tion, Merton speaks to thousands of college 
 boys each year. From the very first he felt the 
 desire to tell drunkards there was hope for 
 them, and he spent much time in hospitals, 
 alcoholic wards, and in prisons; then he 
 was made assistant superintendent of the 
 mission where he was converted. Being called 
 
A FRAT HOUSE CONFESSION 45 
 
 to speak in many churches, he saw the need of 
 preserving the young men from the fate which 
 had befallen him for many years ; then he was 
 called to his present field. 
 
 To Merton was reserved the great joy of 
 leading his own father to Christ. The father 
 could tear to tatters the Old Book, he thought, 
 but he could not answer the transformation 
 of his boy, and it melted his heart. 
 
 A letter from Merton tells of this joyful 
 event. "He forgave my wayward past," he 
 writes, "and when he died we were fully 
 reconciled." 
 
 The remainder of the family were converted, 
 as well. They had been mainly nominal Chris- 
 tians, but the revelation in Merton made them 
 fall in love with the Master. His wife gave 
 her life and service to him a year after Mer- 
 ton's conversion, as a thank-offering to God 
 for giving back the husband, and she is 
 supporting a girl missionary in India by her 
 own efforts, and herself is leading others to 
 Christ. The three brothers know the joy of 
 sins forgiven, and all are proud of the redemp- 
 tion of the one whom they had thought hope- 
 lessly lost. 
 
 How many do the missions save? Who can 
 tell the number who will reach gloryland 
 through this one? Rescue missions perhaps 
 
46 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 pay better on the investment than almost any 
 other form of Christian work, for they turn 
 out workers. 
 
 Honored by his fellow men and by God, 
 loved by all who know him, Merton remembers 
 the pit whence he was digged and has set his 
 face to keep as many as possible from the 
 miry clay, in the colleges and like places. 
 None would ever suspect his past, except by 
 his own revelation, for God has removed the 
 marks of sin and he bears no resemblance to 
 the park sleeper of a few years ago. "If any 
 man be in Christ, he is a new creature," wrote 
 Paul. Doth not the proof lie here? 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 "He First Findeth His Own Brother" 
 
 Wallace was a good-for-nothing, drunken 
 tramp. He had been fireman, saloonkeeper, 
 gambler, circus fakir, and follower of cheap 
 shows at fairs, and he had not succeeded very 
 well at anything. Now he was a tramp, and 
 he was not even a success at that. It required 
 too much thought — and too little ; too much in 
 evading work; too little with respect to his 
 past — for he had a memory and it gave him 
 many anxious hours in his downward career 
 — and, now that he was down and out, mem- 
 ory was still active. 
 
 It was the night of his birthday anniversary. 
 Perhaps that was why he was so gloomy. He 
 could not forget that once he was pure and 
 the light of a mother's eye. That mother, he 
 well knew, would wet her pillow with tears 
 that night, and sobs would mingle with her 
 prayers that God would save her precious boy. 
 Fifteen years she had pleaded before the 
 Throne for this boy and another almost as 
 wayward; then she had committed them back 
 into the hands of God in this way : "Father, I 
 do not rebel because you do not answer my 
 47 
 
48 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 prayers, but I can do nothing for my boys, so 
 I give them back to you, and you must save 
 them. I have done all I can." 
 
 She felt that her prayers had been uttered 
 in faith and that it was now the Divine part 
 to see that his promises were kept. Mean- 
 while she would trust and wait — and pray on. 
 
 Wallace knew this, or had a pretty strong 
 conviction that his mother was praying for 
 him; but her ceaseless love only made him 
 sad, for he had no thought of ever turning to 
 her God, or away from his evil life. He felt 
 that he was doomed; that no power existed 
 which could change him into a respected and 
 self-respecting man. He knew he could not 
 change of his own volition. Yet this birthday 
 night how he wished that he might be back 
 with mother! It was so long since he had 
 seen his loved ones. 
 
 With such reflections the lodging house 
 became strangely intolerable for one who had 
 not seen a bed for several weeks. Fortune 
 had been against him every way he turned. 
 On this birthday occasion he found his cash 
 capital to be thirty cents. For a birthday 
 present he "bought himself a lodging-house 
 room. It was too early to retire, and the vile 
 smoke and viler conversation of the office did 
 not fit with thoughts of home and mother. 
 
FINDETH HIS BROTHER 49 
 
 Leaving the surroundings, which disgusted 
 him as never before, he strolled amid the 
 throng until he saw a transparency before a 
 building he knew well. He did not realize it, 
 but that sign was the very thing he had been 
 looking for, and he turned in as though he 
 had been headed for the mission, which occu- 
 pied the place where the dive had once been. 
 He felt so lonely ; perhaps he would hear some- 
 thing which would make him forget for a little 
 while. Small thought had he that his hunger- 
 ing and thirsting after better things was 
 about to be satisfied by his mother's God ; that 
 the blackness within his soul was but the 
 denser because of the perfect day at hand. 
 
 Wallace was not brought up to be a tramp. 
 The influences of a Christian home were his, 
 and he was taught the way of rectitude. Sin, 
 the destroying monster, early had come into 
 his life, however. He had been given every 
 opportunity, but the Evil One was in control. 
 As a young man he had obtained the necessary 
 "pull" to get into the fire department in a city 
 of the Middle West. There he learned to drink 
 and it mastered him. Often he went from his 
 cot to drive the truck with a muddled brain. 
 He was thought daring, but it was whisky, not 
 bravery. Good fortune kept him from serious 
 accident, but hair-breadth escapes were fre- 
 
50 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 quent. It was a wonder how he kept his seat 
 sometimes. One day he quit his job and 
 opened a saloon. 
 
 Perhaps this step was taken that he might 
 buy his drinks by wholesale; at any rate, he 
 became his own best customer, and one day 
 the saloon went into other hands. In another 
 city down the river he became bartender- 
 waiter in one of the toughest dramshops of 
 the place, known locally as the "Sand Pit," 
 whose proprietor, on the day the place was 
 opened, threw the key away as a useless 
 encumbrance. What Wallace made he spent 
 on drink and gambling. When he "got 
 through" with this job, and a few others as 
 bad, he drifted, becoming the consort of 
 gamblers, fakirs, and hangers-on of the cir- 
 cuses and county fairs, going into anything 
 which offered a chance to make money off the 
 unwary; one day on "easy street" and broke 
 the next; living a happy-go-lucky, though not 
 care-free, life, albeit careless. 
 
 It takes a good man to "follow the circus." 
 He must have more than the average of wit; 
 far more of shrewdness, and a daring that will 
 abash the simple farmer or country towns- 
 man. Unscrupulous too he must be, it goes 
 without saying, full of expedients to lure the 
 coin from the pockets of the unwilling. 
 
FINDETH HIS BROTHER 51 
 
 Had Wallace been able to leave drink alone 
 lie might have shone as a "sure-thing" fakir, 
 as a star short-change man, or in almost any- 
 other of the many branches of the circus 
 "game." But drink hobbles the crooked man 
 as it does any other; it makes him uncertain 
 in his "work" and takes away the money of 
 which he becomes possessed. "Comes easy, 
 goes easy" was the expression of a generation 
 ago, but it is true of the underworld and half- 
 world to-day. The wages of sin is death, not 
 money; prosperity may linger long enough to 
 enslave, but in the end comes death — the 
 worse that it is living death, generally. 
 
 These are some of the things which led up 
 to the forlorn condition of Wallace on his 
 birthday. When he entered the transformed 
 dive he had lost practically everything except 
 his mother's love and his love for her, and the 
 love offered by One whose arms ever are out- 
 stretched to the prodigal. 
 
 He heard songs once familiar to him, and 
 some new ones, telling about Jesus, and then 
 he heard a man tell in simple words and with- 
 out attempt at oratory the story of a broken 
 life which had been made new. 
 
 "He's telling my own life-story," groaned 
 Wallace inwardly; "some one must have told 
 him about me." He knew, though, there was 
 
52 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 no one in the place who conld know, but the 
 unfolding story of sin made him wince. Fi- 
 nally he could stand it no longer and hastened 
 away — almost ran out, as a matter of fact. 
 The truth had pierced his heart, revealed unto 
 him the blackness of his soul and afresh had 
 told him of his lost estate. 
 
 Back he went to the hotel; but he was in 
 no frame of mind to face such conditions, and 
 he plunged out into the street again. If he 
 only could get away from that story — from 
 himself, from his lost condition — he felt as if 
 he would take any sort of chance. His brain 
 was awhirl, and he was not conscious of his 
 path until he found himself again in the 
 mission. The meeting was breaking up. 
 
 "I'll wait and thank that man for what he 
 said," was the thought which ran through 
 Wallace's mind. "It has made me think more 
 seriously than I have in many a year." 
 
 How the Holy Spirit seizes upon the upper- 
 most impulses of the sinner to lead him near 
 the fountain! The leader felt the need of 
 Wallace before a word was exchanged. As 
 the latter faltered out his thanks, the leader 
 asked: "What's the matter, my boy? Have 
 you been drinking?" 
 
 He already had clasped Wallace's hand 
 with sympathetic grip and one hand rested on 
 
FINDETH HIS BROTHER 53 
 
 the weary one's shoulder. No, one had been 
 so kindly for years. It finished the heart- 
 breaking and Wallace burst into tears. A 
 moment later he was on his knees sobbing his 
 plea to mother's God. In that Holy of holies, 
 whose veil no third person can pierce at such 
 a moment, the mercy seat was found, and 
 mother's prayer and mother's faith found 
 justification. 
 
 It was recognized that Wallace was an 
 unusual man. In a few days the marks of sin 
 had vanished, leaving a gentle, happy disposi- 
 tion, and — wonder of wonders< — he was not 
 only willing but eager to work. The "new 
 creature" had lost the desire to live without 
 work; anything honest was his sole stipula- 
 tion. 
 
 When he had been on the way long enough 
 to feel his feet upon the Rock, an intense 
 longing came to send the good news to his 
 brother. Another Andrew, he sought a way 
 to "find" his wayward brother; to tell him, 
 "I have found the Messiah," like that other 
 Andrew. 
 
 The little band of converts counseled with 
 Wallace over the means; three of them actu- 
 ally had a part in the composition of a letter 
 which was written. A few others were asked 
 to join in a series of prayers which winged 
 
54 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 the letter every mile of the necessary journey. 
 Simon was thus called. 
 
 This was many years ago. Wallace has 
 prospered. His employers like him so well 
 that some of them come to his anniversary 
 each year. It is a pretty good test of the 
 Christian character when one's employer and 
 daily associates find something praiseworthy 
 therein and come to express it publicly on 
 such an occasion. 
 
 Despite overwhelming assaults by the 
 adversary, Wallace has persisted. He has a 
 happy home, with Christ enshrined therein. 
 No longer a fakir, he has "played this game 
 square' 7 and God has blessed him wonderfully. 
 
 Upon the occasion of his second anniversary 
 his mother stood by his side upon the plat- 
 form and told her part of the story. Then, as 
 she called on God to bless her boy, two loving 
 arms clasped him as in the long ago. It was 
 a scene long to be remembered. Scarce an eye 
 in the room but was dimmed with tears ; some 
 who had not thought of mother for years were 
 melted by the living answer to one mother's 
 prayers, and in heaven were recorded other 
 answers that night. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Simon Brought to Jesus 
 
 John tells us of Andrew's call to Simon: 
 "He brought hira unto Jesus." If the answer 
 to the later Andrew's letter was slow in com- 
 ing, his brother was none the less brought to 
 Jesus. Yes, and the parallel is even more 
 marked, for the new Simon has been called to 
 the service of the Master and for years has 
 stood like "the Rock." 
 
 The letter which was destined to call the 
 brother was read with misgivings. Emil 
 smiled incredulously as he ran over the pages. 
 Letters before that had told of efforts to turn 
 over a new leaf, to try for a fresh start, or of 
 struggles to win out. As a rule they wound 
 up with a plea for money or were closely 
 followed by others to that end. 
 
 "Nonsense/' said Emil; "he's only getting 
 ready to 'touch me up' for another ten-spot." 
 
 He read the letter through again, however, 
 and its message lodged in his memory against 
 the time when it should be needed, then 
 unthought of as a prospect. Emil was on top 
 when the letter came. There had been times 
 when he had not been there. His family and 
 
 55 
 
56 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 associates knew him as a heavy drinker and 
 gambler. To such the need is never far dis- 
 tant. 
 
 The career of Emil had been of a different 
 character from that of his brother. The 
 younger one had gone astray along other lines. 
 When but a youth he had obtained money 
 from a bank on his mother's name. She had 
 made it good and saved him from trouble. 
 Then Emil ran away, going where his brother 
 was located, thinking the latter had a fine 
 position; instead he found him broke, and 
 both almost starved. In the same city a busi- 
 ness man gave Emil a chance, only to have 
 his confidence betrayed, and Emil had to leave 
 the State hurriedly for that affair. 
 
 In another city he started at the bottom 
 with a mercantile firm and rose from porter 
 to be a trusted manager. He was drinking 
 and gambling all the time, and one day was 
 called in to explain matters. He had to own 
 to acts very humiliating to him; even more 
 humiliating to his wife, who had to be told of 
 his confession. 
 
 About this period of his life Emil had gone 
 out on the road to sell goods and was success- 
 ful, though his habits made him an uncertain 
 factor. One day he disappeared from his 
 territory. He was sought in many directions 
 
SIMON BROUGHT TO JESUS 57 
 
 to no avail. Many days later a telegram, 
 dated in a city several hundred miles distant, 
 came to the relatives asking for money to 
 enable him to reach home. Instead of sending 
 money, a nephew was sent, and he brought the 
 wanderer back home. It was considered cer- 
 tain that the money would have gone to 
 prolong the spree. 
 
 One time when Emil was brought home sick 
 after such an escapade the family physician 
 was called in. He assured the family that 
 after his treatment was completed Emil 
 would not want another drink. As though 
 drugs could purge the soul of the sin which 
 makes drunkards! The treatment was long; 
 the effect may have lasted ten days. 
 
 "I didn't want a drink," Emil said after- 
 ward ; "I wanted two for every one I formerly 
 craved." 
 
 Friends backed him to start in the same 
 line of business and for a time he prospered, 
 to all appearances. But drink and cards 
 lead only one way — down — and he who follows 
 them must expect to travel that pathway. 
 
 After he started in business for himself he 
 braced up somewhat and, as he was very 
 popular with the trade in his line, built up a 
 good business. He might have made a fortune 
 but for his habits. Gradually drinking bouts 
 
58 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 were resumed, with worse excesses than 
 before. Business suffered and he was heavily 
 in debt. To continue his debauches he fre- 
 quently issued checks which were returned 
 by the bank with the significant words upon 
 them : "No funds." 
 
 He had not quite reached this stage when 
 his brother's letter arrived, telling of the 
 latter's conversion and change of life. He 
 was ready for the message in the letter, but 
 not ready to accept the call. He did not 
 realize his lost condition, and prided himself 
 not a little upon his superiority over the 
 brother. But he had read the wonderful testi- 
 mony of Wallace, and the Holy Spirit safely 
 might be left to see that its truths were stored 
 away against the day of famine, when he 
 should cry out in his despair: "Is there then 
 no hope?" That day came soon enough. 
 
 One day he sat on the side of a bed in a 
 hotel in his home town, pondering over such 
 of the events of the previous ten days as he 
 could recall. He had awakened from a spree 
 which he knew had lasted that long. He 
 knew also that his relatives were looking for 
 him, and that probably every policeman in the 
 city, who knew him, also was looking. Per- 
 haps the detectives had been put on his trail 
 by one of his victims. He learned that his 
 
SIMON BROUGHT TO JESUS 59 
 
 place of business had been closed, after his 
 wife had failed to find him, and he knew that 
 the wreck was worse than anything which had 
 heretofore befallen him. 
 
 While he sat pondering and trying to find 
 a way of escape from the appalling situation, 
 and finding none, suddenly the letter he had 
 received appeared before his vision and a 
 voice seemed to say to him : "Why don't you 
 go and see Wallace?" 
 
 He found, on counting the money left from 
 his spree, that there was enough to enable him 
 to "go to Wallace," and in an hour he was on 
 his way. 
 
 The following night a messenger boy carried 
 word to Wallace that his brother had come. 
 He had essayed to walk from his hotel to the 
 mission, but had stopped on the way to 
 bolster up his courage. Not being used to the 
 liquor sold on the Bowery, it had gotten the 
 best of him. It never occurred to him that a 
 drunken man was welcome at a mission* — 
 much less that it was a class particularly 
 invited. He went back to his hotel and sent 
 a messenger to say that he was in the city. 
 
 Half a dozen converts and workers that 
 night received a great incentive to faith. 
 They had prayed that God would touch Emil, 
 and here he was to answer the petitions. Now 
 
60 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 they prayed that God would inspire Wallace 
 as he went to the brother — prayers mingled 
 with thanksgiving to God for bringing the 
 loved one thus far toward salvation. 
 
 The following night Emil was at the 
 mission. An anniversary was being cele- 
 brated, the first held in that place. One of 
 the converts had been faithful to his vision 
 for twelve months, and he was on the plat- 
 form telling his story of one year of joy and 
 real life after twenty years of wandering. 
 Emil wondered why the man would lay bare 
 his life in such an open manner. He smiled 
 at this and other testimonies, they were so 
 unusual to him, but he would not yield. He 
 was pierced to the heart, nevertheless. He 
 had heard men stand and tell things which 
 might have been parts of his own story, and 
 all had linked up Jesus with the change. 
 Jesus! No one claimed any credit for the 
 change, but gave it all to Jesus. That was 
 mother's Friend. 
 
 But he had cursed God's Church and his 
 people and had reviled the religion which now 
 he heard was doing for others what he realized 
 he needed to have done for himself. Would 
 he find forgiveness for his blasphemy, and was 
 there salvation for such as he had been? 
 
 Two nights he sat and listened. He did not 
 
SIMON BROUGHT TO JESUS 61 
 
 smile the second night; on the third tears 
 filled his eyes. He wondered why, and could 
 not understand what had come over him. His 
 brother and the others were wise enough to let 
 God have full play with the prodigal. Their 
 part done, he must save. 
 
 God always has an agent at hand ; this time 
 it was a dear woman, a mother, who had 
 heard about this wanderer. When Emil did 
 not heed the invitation, she went to him, and 
 with her arm about him asked if he were not 
 ready. 
 
 Satan had been telling him that it was too 
 late;' asking what he was going to do about all 
 those bad checks and other things, but at last 
 Emil threw himself upon the love of the 
 Master and sobbed out his plea for mercy, and 
 found Jesus. 
 
 A few days later he took a place as porter 
 in his old line of trade — to begin over, as he 
 had begun many years before. It was not 
 long before God called him into his service 
 and his powerful testimony and patience with 
 and love for the man who is down and out have 
 won many to Christ. He is a local preacher, 
 and goes to many churches to tell of the work 
 of the Master in the highways and hedges of 
 the city and of his power to save — a real Peter 
 with a true gospel message. 
 
62 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 His wife, once so stricken that her reason 
 was despaired of, because of his acts, has been 
 restored to him, the bad checks and notes have 
 been canceled, the old debts paid, and all the 
 other "old things have passed away." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Neither Jew nor Gentile 
 
 If you could have seen the forlorn little 
 fellow the night he came to the mission, 
 surely you would have pitied him, if nothing 
 more. He had come there out of a living 
 tomb; not directly, because when the invita- 
 tion was given to him he was not ready. He 
 had come, however; almost always they do, 
 if the invitation be from the heart. His had 
 been from a great soul which yearned after 
 men, who had been invited to preach among 
 the dwellers in the Tombs — the jail of a large 
 city where prisoners are held pending trial. 
 
 The young man, Love, was there on a 
 larceny charge for a week, one day of which 
 was the Sunday, when the preacher came, and 
 Love went to the chapel service, perhaps 
 because it promised a relief from the lonesome 
 confinement. God had appointed it, he knew 
 afterward, that he might hear a message 
 which was to bring him eternal liberty. 
 
 He remembered little but the invitation, 
 and a few words about the way men were 
 being straightened out in the mission. This 
 was something new — an unexpected novelty. 
 
 63 
 
64 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 Other men had told him that he never could 
 be any better, and he half believed it — that is, 
 if he believed anything. He did not believe in 
 God. 
 
 Born of parents in affluent circumstances 
 in a European capital, his every desire was 
 gratified in childhood and young manhood. 
 Every educational advantage was given him, 
 also, even the great university at the capital; 
 but sin had become so alluring and led to such 
 excesses that he had to leave before he finished 
 and acquired his degree of mechanical engi- 
 neer. He was secured a place with an engi- 
 neering firm, however, and plans were made 
 to get him in the government service after he 
 should have attained proficiency. Sin again 
 intervened and that position was given up. 
 Indulged at every turn, given money to spend 
 almost as freely as he might desire, he went 
 into fresh paths of sin. 
 
 "Sin" and "separation" begin with the 
 same letter, and the one nearly always leads 
 to the other. Love had gone so deep in sin 
 that he could see no way out of his pit, which 
 he had digged himself. Satan pointed to 
 America and said: "You go there and start 
 over again. No one knows you, and you can 
 live right, there." 
 
 The father was ill of an incurable malady 
 
NEITHER JEW NOR GENTILE 65 
 
 and the mother needed the supporting arm 
 of the only son in the home, for the other 
 children had nests of their own. Love knew 
 he never could get permission to leave home, 
 much less to journey across the Atlantic. 
 That was why he engaged his passage before 
 he told anyone. Mother pleaded to no avail; 
 father could not be disturbed. Love looked 
 on his face, which he never was to see again, 
 and left. 
 
 Some one has said that the prodigal son 
 was a long way off from his father ere he left 
 the home for the far country — far off in 
 sympathy and far off from the other influences 
 of the home. Love had been in that state 
 for a long time. He loved his father and 
 mother and others of the family, but he loved 
 self more than all the rest, and that which 
 catered not to self had little place in his 
 life. It was selfishness which led him to a 
 new world — that he might have his own way 
 without criticisms from others, without even 
 observation by others. 
 
 He told himself that he would go to work, 
 and in a land where all made plenty of money 
 he would earn enough to live like a gentle- 
 man. His definition of a "gentleman" prob- 
 ably would not compare with that of what we 
 are pleased to term the "old school" ; it would 
 
66 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 more nearly correspond to the fast set of 
 every large city. To live well, dress well, to 
 travel in the gay crowd as one of the gayest, 
 and above all to drink "like a gentleman" 
 — these things went to make up the life of a 
 "gentleman" in his vision. 
 
 It was realized. By degrees the old life of 
 across the water was resumed and the white- 
 light district of a metropolis had another 
 moth singeing its wings at the candle. 
 Promises made to mother on the eve of 
 departure were forgotten, and the prodigal 
 son in the far country was spending his money 
 in riotous living with the usual result : at last 
 "no man gave unto him." 
 
 Love secured a good position from the first, 
 in a place where his ability could be made 
 manifest. As he had dreamed, so he pros- 
 pered. Had he been compelled to struggle 
 for a time, to learn the value of money in the 
 new land, he might have been weaned from 
 the gay life; but with plenty of money in his 
 pockets, the fascination of sin persisted. He 
 might have murmured at privation and 
 struggle; discipline never has been thought 
 happy by the disciplined. Not until later 
 does the blessing of not being given all we ask 
 for loom before one to the glory of God. 
 
 One cannot live night and day for very long 
 
NEITHER JEW NOR GENTILE 67 
 
 without the pace telling; managers have a 
 way of noticing when a clerk is lax and of 
 ascertaining the cause. They know that a 
 clerk cannot serve two masters — that either 
 business or high life must suffer. After a 
 time Love found another place, but he did 
 not ease up in his prodigality. 
 
 There came a time when his income did not 
 suffice for the life he led. He began to 
 "borrow" from the cash drawer. There was 
 nothing unique in either method or result. 
 He was found out and discharged. The 
 proprietor forgave him, with a warning 
 against his method of life. Other employers 
 allowed him to settle his offenses against 
 them, but there was finally a man who would 
 not relent and the law was called into action. 
 Sin had been found out ; its alluring prospects 
 were no more. Instead, stone walls and iron 
 bars and jail fare supplanted the luxurious 
 home and "swell" restaurant. Hard as was 
 the penalty of sin, in the providence of God 
 it became a blessing, the prison bars a very 
 gate to paradise. 
 
 He was classed as a Jew on the prison 
 records, but he had no religion. Before he 
 entered college he had become an atheist. 
 Strange that the Spirit moved him to enter the 
 chapel where his "great invitation" was to be 
 
68 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 delivered. Stranger still that it impressed 
 him sufficiently to make him curious. Curious 
 he was, yet there was an underlying stratum 
 of wonder as to whether the preacher had told 
 the truth, whether it were possible to change 
 the life of such a man as he was. 
 
 After being released under a suspended 
 sentence, he decided to leave the city for a 
 time, and was fortunate enough to secure a 
 position as bookkeeper at a nearby summer 
 resort. In spite of the multiplied opportu- 
 nities for evil, Love stuck to his work and kept 
 straight, returning to the city at the end of 
 the season. 
 
 In a few days he engaged with a firm in the 
 best position he ever held. He worked hard, 
 became well liked, and gained the confidence 
 of the firm members, so much so that when 
 planning an extension of business Love was 
 offered a place in the partnership. Corre- 
 spondence developed that his family in Europe 
 felt disposed to furnish the necessary money, 
 contingent upon a satisfactory examination 
 of the business. 
 
 Before a second letter came Love was no 
 longer with the firm. He had been found out 
 again and had to leave quickly. He had 
 started the old fast life once more and, though 
 he made fair wages, it was not enough to keep 
 
NEITHER JEW NOR GENTILE 69 
 
 up the pace, and after a time he had turned 
 crooked again, despite the fact that a sus- 
 pended sentence hung like a sword over his 
 head. 
 
 One of his old bosses had told him he would 
 see the time when he would walk the streets 
 penniless unless he mended his ways. He had 
 laughed at the prophecy; but it had come to 
 pass. After a few weeks his means gave out. 
 He had been walking the streets a week, home- 
 less and friendless. Food had not passed his 
 lips for several days. He did not mind that 
 so much, for food often palled; but there was 
 no friend. That was worse than the chill of 
 midwinter. 
 
 None of the songs he heard that first night 
 in the mission had a familiar sound, though 
 something like the ones sung in the jail 
 chapel. He was not particularly interested in 
 the service until he heard one man after 
 another tell how Jesus Christ could save from 
 sin — had saved them from their drunkenness, 
 thievery, and kindred sins. On that night the 
 preaching of the cross, which before was fool- 
 ishness to this young Jew, became the power 
 of God unto salvation, for he went with others 
 to the altar and prayed that God would help 
 him to believe. Like the father of the epi- 
 leptic boy, he wanted to believe if only it would 
 
70 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 bring relief from a dreadful condition, and 
 God honored the motive and gave him belief, 
 like that other Jew of old. 
 
 There was a long period of struggle against 
 adverse conditions within and without. He 
 left the mission that first night without speak- 
 ing to a soul. For several nights he continued 
 to walk the streets and starve — for he would 
 not beg — but continued to return each night 
 to the mission. He was noticed by one of the 
 converts, spoken to, and received into the 
 aristocracy of the redeemed without a ques- 
 tion and with a warmth of welcome he had 
 not experienced for long. 
 
 There were other struggles before he knew 
 that his feet were on the Rock. Remorse, par- 
 ticularly with reference to his own family, 
 almost brought on serious melancholy. Three 
 friends stuck by him, resolved to cheat the 
 devil, and their prayers were united that God 
 would save the young Jew and send him out 
 as a messenger to his own people with the 
 gospel of salvation to everyone who will 
 believe. Perhaps it was to strengthen their 
 faith that God answered the cry and restored 
 Love fully. 
 
 He was never the same after that, for, 
 though the Evil One struck him down more 
 than once, this modern Paul had caught the 
 
NEITHER JEW NOR GENTILE 71 
 
 vision and no temporary defeat could wrest 
 him from his new allegiance. 
 
 Already a lay minister, he is preparing for 
 missionary work among his race and has 
 developed a strong power in his preaching. 
 His clear perspective of the problem of taking 
 the gospel to his people has attracted atten- 
 tion of Jewish workers. They are praying 
 that he may be another Paul, only with a 
 message to the Jew rather than the Gentile. 
 The God who changed Love from a crooked 
 Jew to an honest Christian has proved that 
 he is able to supply all his needs ; even the love 
 and confidence of the mother he left has been 
 restored. "No good thing will he withhold 
 from them that walk uprightly." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 Midnight and a Park Bench 
 
 Snow was falling fast on that dreary Sun- 
 day afternoon, whirling through the sky- 
 scraper canons, drifting into the corners of the 
 buildings and dooryards and parks, and turn- 
 ing the trees into a dazzling lacework. On 
 pavement and sidewalk it turned to slush as 
 fast as it fell, slimy with the mud of the 
 streets and treacherous to those who had to 
 venture out of doors. 
 
 Ordinarily but one power could have drawn 
 Waters out into the soggy footpaths trodden 
 up through the side street; that power was 
 the appetite for drink. It was so strong in 
 him that he had repeatedly done things which 
 he could not account for later — things foolish 
 and useless. But he was broke on this stormy 
 afternoon, and was afraid he could not get a 
 warming drink to counteract the chill of wet 
 feet. His shoes were "out" in more than one 
 place and his clothing was none too warm 
 for an old man — Waters was past sixty-five. 
 There was every reason why he should draw 
 his chair toward the radiator in the lodging 
 house and doze away the hours. 
 
 72 
 
MIDNIGHT AND A PARK BENCH 73 
 
 While he was speculating on the chance of 
 his getting a drink at the corner saloon where 
 he sometimes hung out with genial compan- 
 ions — when he had money — a stranger handed 
 him a ticket-like card, which proved to be an 
 invitation to hear a former convict tell of his 
 life experiences. 
 
 As he read it, Waters said to himself: "I 
 think I ought to hear this man ; I might learn 
 something. It says he was a convict and a 
 bartender and became a preacher. Here am 
 I, a drunkard, of no use to the world, and this 
 ex-convict has found a way to make the world 
 better. I must go to hear him." 
 
 He did go; out into the slush, which wet 
 and chilled his feet ere he had reached the 
 corner, on through the wintry blast which 
 penetrated to the marrow. He had not far to 
 go, but he sank exhausted into a rear seat 
 when the meeting place was reached. He 
 dozed a few minutes before the singing 
 started, and awoke startled, as the song was 
 one long since forgotten, but which he had 
 heard back in the church in England, and 
 which his own children had sung many times. 
 His heart warmed at this and other familiar 
 tunes, and he was in harmony with the songs 
 before the speaker began the chief part of the 
 meeting. 
 
74 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 He had come from his native land many 
 years before and had achieved success in a 
 large dry goods emporium in managerial 
 capacity. He had held several other good 
 positions, though this was the best one and 
 carried a salary which enabled him to bring 
 up his children comfortably. He looked for 
 a change which would give him a junior 
 partnership, or an equivalent, when the firm 
 was reorganized after the death of the active 
 head. Instead he had been notified that his 
 services would be dispensed with. 
 
 He was not a young man then, and it was 
 impossible for him to attain equally good 
 employment. Young men were in demand, 
 not old men, whose ideas had gone to seed, he 
 was told. From that time he steadily went 
 down. When he began to drink that helped 
 the decline, and soon he could hold no job, 
 no matter how humble. 
 
 His children tried to stay the tide of evil, 
 but the effect of their pleadings was brief. 
 Promises were made but to be broken. How 
 could he keep a promise when a demon was in 
 control? Some day we shall talk less about 
 will power in dealing with the drunkard and 
 more about saving power. 
 
 In time the children had to ask him not to 
 come home. They saw that he had a place to 
 
MIDNIGHT AND A PARK BENCH 75 
 
 sleep and enough to eat, and visited him occa- 
 sionally, but he brought disgrace to the home, 
 and that was barred. They were justified in 
 the eyes of the world. Had they not done all 
 in their power to reform the father? And so 
 he lived in a great lodging house erected by 
 a philanthropist, his condition growing more 
 deplorable year by year, until he was consid- 
 ered a hopeless case. 
 
 He heard the speaker that afternoon say 
 that he had been a thief and a drunkard and 
 was tending bar in a Western city when he 
 was handed an invitation card at the door of 
 a mission. Waters felt in his pocket to see 
 if he had kept the one given him and was 
 relieved to find he had. As the speaker told 
 how astonished he had been to hear a prison 
 acquaintance relate part of his past and tell 
 how he had been led to give his heart to God, 
 and then had done that very thing himself, 
 thereby finding power to keep from whisky 
 and crookedness, Waters felt a tug at his 
 heartstrings. 
 
 "O, if only I could do that !" he said under 
 his breath. 
 
 Yet, when the speaker asked for a show of 
 hands for prayer and then invited men to 
 come and ask for that same power, Waters 
 sadly shook his head. He had just been debat- 
 
76 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 ing the matter and had concluded that he was 
 too old to start over again. Besides, had he 
 not tried many times to quit drinking? 
 
 He could not get away from the story, 
 however, try as he would; it seemed to say to 
 him, "Why don't you try it?" 
 
 So troubled was he that night that he could 
 not sleep and wandered out into the darkness. 
 It had ceased storming and grown colder, and 
 he walked along the fashionable thoroughfare, 
 turning over his problem and endeavoring 
 to find some solution. A three-mile walk 
 brought him to a park, and he dropped into a 
 seat to get his breath before tramping back 
 to the lodging house. 
 
 "Why don't you ask God to help you?" 
 came the still small voice. 
 
 "I will," his heart responded, and down on 
 the snow and ice he knelt, out under the stars, 
 not a soul near but a policeman on the corner 
 whom he had expected to order him to "move 
 on." But he was not alone. The God of the 
 universe bent low to hear the cry of a penitent 
 heart and turned the souFs anguish to joy 
 as he bade it be free. The policeman looked 
 through the park fence and, seeing the old 
 man, would have driven him out, lest he 
 freeze; but as he drew near he saw that the 
 supposed "bum" was praying, and left him 
 
MIDNIGHT AND A PARK BENCH 77 
 
 there, with a mental note to look for him on 
 the return trip. 
 
 Next night Waters hunted up the mission- 
 ary whose story had upset his beliefs and 
 pointed the way to better things and told how 
 God had led him a solitary way to the cross, 
 where his sins had been laid down. 
 
 Visitors to the mission said the chances 
 were that Waters would not hold out, but, 
 as usual, they were mistaken. The glib talker, 
 the smart and confident one, may offer more 
 of promise to the casual visitor, but the 
 workers know that it is impossible to gauge 
 the work done by Divine Power within a 
 human soul, and that oftentimes the most 
 unpromising cases, from an outward appear- 
 ance, are the choicest miracles of grace, work- 
 ing out their own salvation where others 
 stumble and fail. 
 
 Science has worked out various tests by 
 which a man's character may be determined 
 by the eyes, the nose, the droop of the ears, 
 the curve of the mouth, or some other physical 
 mark, so that one may read what is behind 
 the mask; skilled detectives have perfected a 
 system by which they can pick out a burglar, 
 or a pickpocket, or a strong-arm man from 
 the throng, one by the shape of the head, 
 another by the size of his hand, a third by 
 
78 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 another method, and they have demonstrated 
 their skill. But no man ever has been able to 
 look down into the souls of sinners while they 
 kneel at the altar and tell who has been doing 
 business with heaven. No one of experience 
 would attempt it. 
 
 New life came to Waters with the heart 
 change, and he lost his aged look. No wonder 
 he did, for the burden of sin had pressed 
 heavily upon him. It was but a short time 
 when he was manager of a big department 
 store in a neighboring city. When that place 
 closed another place awaited him, and Waters 
 prospered. He did not forget the place where 
 he had found encouragement, and began to 
 try to help others. He gave himself and his 
 money and was always up and doing. Whisky 
 had been his undoing; now he was doing all 
 he could to remove the curse from the lives of 
 others. 
 
 Very soon his children learned of the change 
 in his life and welcomed him. After several 
 years they took him from the bustle of trade 
 and gave him a home along the seashore, 
 where he could busy himself with chickens 
 and live in the open, but they could not keep 
 him away from his spiritual home, had they 
 wanted to. Threescore years and ten past, 
 he is possessed of vigor, and delights to 
 
MIDNIGHT AND A PARK BENCH 79 
 
 go where he can tell the story of his night in 
 the park when God came down to meet him. 
 
 It has been declared that when a man has 
 passed fifty or fifty-five in the down-and-out 
 life, the chances are not one in a hundred that 
 he will ever leave that life ; that the salvation 
 of such an one is practically impossible. 
 Waters stands as a monument to the contrary. 
 He has never even wavered in his allegiance 
 to his Master. 
 
 Allen also came as an old man to God. He 
 was a skilled artisan who, when his wife died, 
 took to drink and became a doddering drunk- 
 ard. He stopped at an open-air service to 
 listen to a song, and heard that Jesus Christ 
 could save a drunkard. "That's good enough 
 for me/' he shouted. "I'm a drunkard; can 
 God save me?" At the mercy seat he found 
 the power of God unto salvation and became 
 a sweet Christian, who refused to allow the 
 petty trials of life to mar the peace which had 
 come to him. Somehow God seems to smooth 
 the way for the old men; none who have put 
 their trust in him have been known to find 
 him lacking in strength or in blessings. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 Under Two Flags 
 
 Mother's prayers, mother's songs, mother's 
 admonitions — how they cling in memory when 
 everything else has gone ! How often a tender 
 recollection of the past woos a fainting soul 
 back to the paths of rectitude, when such 
 turning-about-face would seem to be beyond 
 the limits of faith. I have known many men 
 who have passed from darkness into His light 
 and have heard thousands of others tell the 
 salvation story; I cannot now recall more 
 than one or two who did not confess to the 
 tender influences of early days, when a sainted 
 mother taught the name of Jesus to the child 
 lips, and the simple prayers and lullabys 
 which were a part of the long ago. Many 
 rough men can repeat word for word the 
 prayers and songs, though years have passed 
 since mother taught them; many have con- 
 fessed that never in their wildest days have 
 the prayers been omitted. 
 
 A well-known rescue hall has an inscrip- 
 tion on the wall beside the platform: 
 
 HOW LONG 
 
 SINCE YOU WROTE 
 
 TO MOTHER? 
 
 80 
 
UNDER TWO FLAGS 81 
 
 Bleared eyes have filled with tears as they 
 read the question ; sobs and prayers have not 
 been infrequent; hundreds have been lured to 
 the mercy seat by the message hidden behind 
 the words. 
 
 Who can fathom the depth of the mother 
 love, or the influence of her petitions for her 
 boy? Doubtless heaven will be filled with 
 the trophies of mother-faith. 
 
 A hopeless, helpless being, with little to 
 recommend him to favorable attention, awoke 
 to hear the chorus, "I love to tell the story." 
 He had been sent to a mission meeting by a 
 chance acquaintance who feared the man was 
 about to die and knew that the mission helped 
 unfortunates. 
 
 "That was mother's song," said the help- 
 less one, telling of his experience on that night. 
 "She sang that song to me on her knees when 
 she was putting me to bed : 
 
 "I love to tell the story, 
 'Twill be my theme in glory 
 To tell the old, old story 
 Of Jesus and His love." 
 
 Lieutenant Eichards, of her Majesty's lanc- 
 ers, the flower of Britain's troops, had been 
 born of wealthy parents in the tight little 
 isle. The old home was all that could be de- 
 
82 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 sired. Three homes there were, as a matter 
 of fact, a town house, a country seat, and a 
 shooting box in the north, and there were 
 all the luxuries which the well-to-do English- 
 man loves. Father was upright, if austere; 
 mother — a beautiful mother who knew her 
 Lord — loved her boy with a love that clung 
 to him when all the rest of the world had 
 turned against him. 
 
 Careful training, education, and every ad- 
 vantage which money could secure were his. 
 He was kept free from the world's taint and 
 came to manhood strong and virile, a perfect 
 type of the English youth of good family. 
 He had expected to enter the ministry, but 
 later chose the military life and was secured 
 a lieutenancy in the crack regiment. 
 
 Up to this time he had not taken a drink, 
 and he promised father and mother, as he 
 left the home behind, that he would abstain. 
 He was well provided for, with all that a 
 young officer might desire in the way of 
 clothes and money, and there was never a 
 thought that one day drink would rob him of 
 all that is worth while in life. 
 
 He had hardly left home, however, before 
 he began to take a little beer with the other 
 officers; the transition to wine and then to 
 brandy and soda, the British officer's favorite 
 
UNDER TWO FLAGS 83 
 
 tipple, was by easy steps. Before he knew it 
 he was in the clutches of drink. 
 
 All over England and the Continent he 
 traveled, with one object, the finding of new 
 dissipations and new frivols, and when a for- 
 tune came from his grandfather, this was spent 
 in like manner, part of it going into a house 
 planned to satisfy his every whim. The par- 
 ents were about the only ones who did not 
 know of his excesses. 
 
 When the regiment was ordered to India 
 for service there was but little social life 
 outside the officers' club, and no drinking ex- 
 cept in the club or the home of a resident 
 civil officer. Here he learned to drink hard 
 and to love drink; twenty-one years of life 
 practically were given up to the destroyer. 
 The appetite grew and in the end the com- 
 mission was lost. While in Bombay he was 
 operated upon for a disease of the liver 
 brought on by drinking, and he was repeatedly 
 in delirium from drink. 
 
 The parents learned of his excesses then, 
 and, alarmed at the strength of the habit, re- 
 sorted to so-called cures and specialists. The 
 "cures" were as valueless as the white paper 
 on which they were printed. Sanitariums 
 in all parts of the world failed to take away 
 the appetite. Possessing plenty of money, the 
 
84 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 parents did not stint their expenditures and 
 sent Richards all over the world in search of 
 relief. New Zealand, Australia, Europe, and 
 America were visited without success. Spe- 
 cialists found they could make no impression 
 upon him. He only lived to drink. Yet he 
 loved his mother and willingly would have 
 been cured of his insatiable love for drink for 
 her sake. 
 
 The father died broken-hearted, and the 
 mother grieved over her boy, but still loved 
 him and prayed on. The fortune which the 
 father left was squandered by the son, the 
 estates went the way of all else, and Richards 
 at length sold the old home — his mother's 
 home — and it broke her heart. She did not 
 live long afterward. 
 
 Lieutenant Richards was finally bundled 
 off to America by members of the family. He 
 was promised money to live on if he would 
 stay away. It was not necessary for him to 
 join the ranks of the "remittance men," paid 
 to stay away from the disgraced relatives. 
 He found friends in one of the great cities 
 and soon was in a good position. Though 
 this was lost through drink, others were 
 found, one paying as high as three hundred 
 dollars a month; all were lost from the one 
 cause. It got so at last that he could not 
 
UNDER TWO FLAGS 85 
 
 hold a ten-dollar job, and would have been 
 glad to work for room and meals. 
 
 For eight years he drifted from place to 
 place, a derelict, sodden and a total wreck, 
 sleeping in the back rooms of saloons, on park 
 benches, under trucks, wrapped in newspa- 
 pers if the night proved cold. He shipped on 
 oyster boats, regarded as the lowest employ- 
 ment one can have, traveled as a hobo from 
 city to city, panhandling everywhere for 
 drink. Every trace of the English gentleman 
 was gone. 
 
 "I walked the streets winter and summer 
 carrying signs/ ' says this scion of the Eng- 
 lish gentry, telling of his lost estate. "I was 
 actually in the gutter for drink, and I could 
 not even hold that job. I served as a <supe' 
 in theaters and delivered circulars; I have 
 stood in the bread line, and know what it is 
 to be refused a crust of bread at a kitchen 
 door." 
 
 For a long time the former lieutenant slept 
 in a saloon, was kicked out of that as no good, 
 and then slept in a nearby park. Many times 
 he was sent to the alcoholic wards of various 
 hospitals. 
 
 Waking one day, he tried to beg the price 
 of a drink from his nearest companion. He 
 was told that he had better go to a mission. 
 
86 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 He had never heard of the place and inquired 
 about it. His curiosity was aroused when he 
 was told that people in the mission would 
 help him. It seemed too good to be true; but 
 it was too good not to be true, and he went, 
 though he cannot tell how he accomplished 
 the distance. IWhen he staggered in the door 
 he realized that no other door was open to him. 
 Eagged and filthy, he almost feared to attempt 
 to enter. 
 
 No one is more loyal to the Church, yet I 
 fear that this man would not have been per- 
 mitted to enter many of our houses of worship. 
 He scarcely would have been welcome at a 
 large number of others. Yet here was a man 
 seeking the only relief possible for his lost 
 condition, the very thing the Church has to 
 offer. Why should we separate the sheep from 
 the goats when the Word gives that office to 
 a Higher Power? 
 
 The hopeless one dropped into a seat and al- 
 most immediately went to sleep ; but he heard 
 some of the testimonies, though he did not 
 believe them. He felt that he was sold, body 
 and soul, for drink and it was too late to 
 break the bargain. He awoke to hear mother's 
 song. After awhile they sang another of 
 mother's favorites, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," 
 and in his confused visions he saw his mother 
 
UNDER TWO FLAGS 87 
 
 kneeling beside the bed in the old room where 
 so often she had cuddled him up as she crooned 
 the songs of hope and trust. 
 
 He staggered to the altar as they sang 
 "Though like a wanderer," and knelt and sob- 
 bed out a plea to mother's God to take him. 
 When they came to the words, 
 
 "So by my woes to be, 
 Nearer, my God, to thee," 
 
 they became a prayer upon his lips, and then 
 and there in the providence of God the burden 
 of woes rolled away and peace came that never 
 had been dreamed of. 
 
 Ragged he was, and dirty, but once more 
 he was sober, after many years of continuous 
 drinking. His brain was not entirely cleared 
 up, but he had the consciousness of a great 
 and wonderful change within him, which he 
 could not fathom, and a new hope had dawned 
 when life had been hopeless so many years. 
 
 As soon as he was able to work, a friend 
 of the mission offered him a job beating car- 
 pets. He earned three and one half dollars and 
 meals. He wondered why, with that much 
 money, he did not want to rush to the saloon ; 
 but he did not go. His first wages in the new 
 life kept him until another job came. Ere 
 long he had a responsible position and a bank 
 account and many creature comforts long 
 
88 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 denied. He has regained his military bear- 
 ing and the traces of sin have been obliterated. 
 
 Far more important to the world than the 
 rehabilitation of a man once a menace to so- 
 ciety has been the spiritual change which has 
 come into this life. There is no fight against 
 drink; that desire was taken with the other 
 sins. A cultured mentality restored to its 
 former vigor, God has been able to use the 
 former army officer, and instead of fighting 
 under the flag of his native land — under the 
 king of the greatest world power of to-day — he 
 is enlisted under the banner of the Kingdom 
 of Kighteousness for the King of kings. 
 
 Night after night, wherever the oppor- 
 tunity, in church or mission, upon the street, 
 or wherever he may be, the story of salvation 
 is told with power that carries conviction and 
 that has won many men from the mire in 
 which he once wallowed himself. He has 
 learned to love the mother song with a deeper 
 love than before — "I love to tell the story. " 
 
 The outcast — cast out — of society has be- 
 come the soul-winner, the scum of society 
 the very cream of the kingdom. The man 
 worthless has been transformed into worth 
 while — into an ambassador on behalf of God, 
 beseeching lost men, "Be ye reconciled to God." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A Man's Undoing 
 
 Stelle had gone so far down in the social 
 scale, had become such a heavy drinker, and 
 bore such a burden of sin that night, that he 
 could not conceive that the world had another 
 chance for him. It had no other chance; but 
 God in heaven had what the world refused 
 — was it the seventh or the seventieth? — 
 though Stelle did not know it. He had al- 
 ways tried to make his own chance or turned 
 to friends in his extremity. Now he had come 
 to a place where he could not help himself 
 and where repeated offenses had made his 
 friends turn him down. He had not a friend 
 left, except mother; she never turns her boy 
 down. Mother is always lifting him up to 
 her God in prayer. 
 
 Stelle had come of a godly father and 
 mother. They were earnest and active Chris- 
 tians, and the child learned to lisp the name 
 of Jesus at his mother's knee as she knelt 
 with him at the bedside after the little white 
 nightie had been put on; then, when "Our 
 Father" and "Now I Lay Me" had been said, 
 mother tucked in her boy, smoothed out the 
 89 
 
90 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 coverlet, lingering at her task. Then she bent 
 low over the bed and kissed her boy good 
 night, as she breathed a prayer that God would 
 bless him and make him a good boy and a 
 great man. He never became great except 
 in mother's eyes, and it was so long before 
 mother could feel sure that the remainder of 
 her prayer had been answered. 
 
 Father too tried to help the boy into a 
 knowledge of right and wrong and give him 
 strength and character to choose the former. 
 One of the earliest recollections which come 
 to Stelle in these latter days is of going to 
 Sunday school in the little old-fashioned white 
 church on the hill. It was under the shade of 
 the pines and looked up at the mountains and 
 down upon the broad basin of the canal, and 
 beyond that the river rippled over the shal- 
 lows and swung round and round where the 
 eddy swept the rocky barrier which had 
 turned the course of the stream. 
 
 No, it was not going to Sunday school, after 
 all; it was when, hand in hand, father and 
 he, homeward bound, had turned to look back 
 at the old church. Somehow it seems to 
 Stelle that he was always going away from 
 church after that. Until he went from high 
 school into the world to wrest from it a living 
 he had kept to the Sunday school and church, 
 
A MAN'S UNDOING 91 
 
 and teacher and preacher had been sowing 
 seed which they hoped would spring up and 
 flourish. Alas! that for so long the wayside, 
 the stony soil, and the thorns were to pre- 
 vent a harvest such as they hoped for. Har- 
 vest there was, but it did not come from the 
 seed sown in the church and home. 
 
 Once in those childhood days father had let 
 his boy taste beer at the store on settlement 
 day. Father did not drink it often — almost 
 never — and the boy did not like the first taste. 
 He little dreamed that one day the drink would 
 dominate his life. At twelve he had sought 
 membership in a boys' temperance order, in 
 a year or two becoming one of its officers and 
 learning every word of warning in the Bible 
 concerning strong drink. He was sure he 
 never would be like the one or two drunkards 
 the town knew. 
 
 Then the revivalist came to the old church, 
 and under the influence of the weeks of spe- 
 cial meetings, Stelle had been one of the 
 mourners. Who can tell what work of grace 
 was done then? Certainly one; the boy 
 learned that God heard and answered prayer. 
 He had seen the answer as he knelt with a 
 chum during the revival and saw the power 
 of the Spirit do its work in the heart of a 
 scoffing man for whom they were praying. No 
 
92 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 one could ever make him doubt, after that, 
 that God heard the earnest appeal. In later 
 years, when agnostic and atheist influences 
 beset him and made him waver, always he 
 would remember that night in the church, and 
 faith persisted. 
 
 When he left school Stelle went into a news- 
 paper office to work; then he left the Sunday 
 school and speedily forgot the lessons of that 
 place and of home. There were dark spots 
 in his memory already ; things which he thrust 
 away quickly when they rose before him. 
 Once he had stolen from his baby brother — 
 and had been found out speedily — and there 
 were other things he hoped no one knew about. 
 Then, just before he went into the newspaper 
 office, he had come into conflict with the law 
 in a way that might have put him behind re- 
 formatory bars if the man involved had been 
 harsh. 
 
 When he began to work, Stelle claimed the 
 right to remain out at night, and to go about 
 the town with his boy friends. He really did 
 not want to go into the pool room with them, 
 and he had no intention of joining in their 
 play. He watched them shove the balls over 
 the table and grew fascinated with the game. 
 Almost before he knew it he was learning to 
 play ; soon he was the leader at this diversion. 
 
A MAN'S UNDOING 93 
 
 By this time the youth had become the cor- 
 respondent of several New York, Philadelphia, 
 and other out-of-town newspapers, which 
 earned him more money than his salary at 
 home. Before he was twenty he was earning 
 in excess of a thousand dollars a year and he 
 had from the then greatest New York news- 
 paper unlimited authority to use the tele- 
 graph wires in its behalf. He had become edi- 
 tor of the home paper also, and one would 
 have said that Stelle was destined for an hon- 
 orable and prosperous career. 
 
 One night after a game of pool with his 
 chums there were drinks due ; this was a part 
 of the lure of the place for the youths of the 
 town. The pool room had no right to dispense 
 alcoholic drinks, else Stelle would not have 
 ventured inside; but instead of the soft drink 
 he ordered that night a glass of beer was set 
 out for him. He was warm and gulped down 
 at least half the glass before it dawned upon 
 him that it was a new drink. There was a 
 scene, but his companions and the proprietor 
 chaffed him and bade him be a man, and fool- 
 ishly he yielded to their urging. He never 
 had to be urged again. 
 
 No man becomes drunk on one glass of beer, 
 but that single glass made Stelle a drunkard. 
 In a year or two he could drink more than 
 
94 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 any one of his companions, and led them in 
 revelry and dissipation of all sorts. He had 
 set out to have a bank balance of one thousand 
 dollars on his twenty-first birthday, but he 
 had not counted on this drinking habit. He 
 was making money enough to keep up his 
 end, but the hundreds did not pile up in the 
 bank. 
 
 To a young man of Stelle's habits the town 
 grew too small one day. It was convenient 
 to New York, and trips there to "see life" 
 became a regular thing. Strangely the "life" 
 he sought to see was that of the night side 
 of New York— down where the white lights 
 and red lights glistened to lure the unwary 
 and wary ones. In those days — more than 
 a quarter century ago — the Bowery and the 
 cross streets had many places of notoriety, 
 and Stelle found them all. Billy McGlory 
 was in his prime on Hester Street, Owney 
 Geogheghan on the Bowery, Harry Hill on 
 Houston Street, and "The" Allen on Bleecker, 
 and because of introductions and the fact that 
 he had money Stelle became known to them 
 all, and was a welcome visitor there and at 
 many other resorts. Many hours of riotous 
 living were spent in the section, and in that 
 further uptown, where the Haymarket, Cre- 
 morne, and other like places flourished. 
 
A MAN'S UNDOING 95 
 
 The day the Brooklyn Bridge was opened 
 Stelle and two companions drank heavily and 
 at night wound up in a beer garden on the 
 Bowery. They left about midnight, just 
 about able to walk to a car which would take 
 them to the ferry, on the other side of which 
 a train was to be taken for home. Stelle 
 little thought, as he staggered out with a com- 
 panion on either arm, that the next time he 
 entered the place ribaldry would have given 
 way to the gospel message, the suggestive 
 songs to those about mother and Jesus, and 
 that he there would hear that which would 
 change the entire current of his life. It was 
 many years before that came. 
 
 Stelle had felt the coils of the serpent grow- 
 ing about him. Conscience was alive still, 
 and it told him he ought to change his habits. 
 He noticed that old friends showed their dis- 
 approval of his ways by holding aloof. At 
 first he tried to overcome his appetite for 
 drink, but eventually went deeper than ever 
 into sin. Never a word of censure came from 
 the home; all was love, but Stelle knew that 
 the old folks were grieving. 
 
 At last, feeling that he could not break 
 away from his habits, Stelle resolved to go 
 to another town to try over. He had it fig- 
 ured out that, once away from his environ- 
 
96 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 ment and associates, he could brace up. He 
 actually believed these to be responsible for 
 his downfall. In the other town he found 
 the temptations much the same and in less 
 than a year returned home, for the first time 
 in his life discharged for drunkenness. 
 
 He wanted to get away from drink, and if 
 some one had pointed the way to salvation as 
 the way to cure his habits, years of sorrow 
 to himself and his friends might have been 
 spared. Jerry McAuley had just begun to 
 preach the gospel that Jesus Christ would 
 save a drunkard; but little was heard of this 
 outside his immediate neighborhood. Stelle 
 did not know even that there was such a thing 
 as a mission for the drunkard and the crook. 
 
 Back in the old home town Stelle struggled 
 to keep straight, and failed over and over; he 
 saw that while he had plenty of money, he 
 was losing all his friends except his boon 
 companions; he saw too that his father and 
 mother sorrowed helplessly. His sister lay 
 upon her dying bed, wasting away with dis- 
 ease. She called him to her bedside, talked 
 to Stelle about his evil ways and got him to 
 promise upon the open Bible that he would 
 not drink again. He meant it and kept the 
 promise a week or two; then he was drunk 
 again upon the streets. Great remorse came 
 
A MAN'S UNDOING 97 
 
 over him, and he resolved that he would not 
 disgrace the old folks longer; he would go 
 away. If he had to be a drunkard, at least 
 he would go where no one knew him. 
 
 He stole away from the home town by night. 
 He had drawn from the bank all his deposit 
 and cashed checks for a considerable sum in 
 addition, which had to be made good later, 
 and went west. In one of the lake cities 
 Stelle proceeded to squander his substance 
 in riotous living, drinking, gambling, and ca- 
 rousing, until his money was gone. Then he 
 walked the streets, slept in a cheap lodging 
 house — when he could borrow the price — 
 lived on free lunch, when a nickel or two was 
 secured for the necessary drink. He had 
 thought it an easy task to get employment, 
 but all doors were closed to him. 
 
 Stelle resolved to go further west, hoping 
 that a friend in a Missouri River city would 
 be able to get him a job. He had written the 
 friend about it, but did not wait for a reply; 
 he started to beat his way over a railway, but 
 his clothing was too good for a tramp, and 
 the trainmen suspected him for a spotter and 
 put him off at every chance. He reached 
 his goal, however, and found a job waiting 
 for him. 
 
 He had hoped to brace up and change his 
 
98 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 mode of living in the new place, but lie had 
 come to a city where saloons were plenty, where 
 gambling was open and promiscuous, where 
 Sunday, if anything, was more unbridled than 
 the other six days, and what chance was there 
 for a young man to mend his ways by the exer- 
 cise of will? To tell the truth, Stelle did not 
 try very long. Soon he was gambling and 
 drinking and carousing with a wild set. All 
 made plenty of money — too much for their own 
 good — and spent it freely. If they ran short 
 before pay day, credit was unlimited every- 
 where. 
 
 Less than two years of this and Stelle, 
 whose work had won him favor with his 
 superiors, was thrown out because his drink- 
 ing offset his merits ; had grown unendurable, 
 as a matter of fact. He secured another place 
 immediately, at better wages, and though for 
 a few weeks he kept sober, in time he suc- 
 cumbed once more and again was discharged 
 for his drinking. Another job was lost for 
 the same reason a few weeks later. 
 
 Then, believing that the town had gone 
 back on him and that he must break away 
 from the associations once more — the same 
 old story — he went further west and, under 
 the shadow of the continental backbone, where 
 nature's cathedral spires continually point to- 
 
A MAN'S UNDOING 99 
 
 ward heaven, he made a new start. A man he 
 had met before put him behind a hotel desk and 
 gave him opportunity to become a manager, 
 but just as the appointment was due, he was 
 found out to be a drunkard and worse, and 
 was dropped summarily, being told what he 
 had lost. 
 
 Stelle might have been one of the editors 
 of a great daily newspaper of the same city 
 but for his habits, his drinking being con- 
 sidered a bar to promotion. At length it got 
 so that no one in the city wanted him, and 
 he turned back eastward. Fortune directed 
 him to the headquarters of the largest rail- 
 way on the continent, where he secured em- 
 ployment. For the greater part of a year 
 Stelle remained sober, though most of the 
 time he was indulging in an occasional glass. 
 Then, under the inspiration of a young woman 
 who afterward became his wife, he ceased 
 altogether. Shortly afterward, when a va- 
 cancy occurred in the official staff, Stelle was 
 given the place, a highway to preferment, 
 had he so chosen. He had previously made 
 good in the general office, when the officer 
 under whom he worked died suddenly; then 
 Stelle conducted the office and wound up all 
 the unfinished matters and prepared the way 
 for the coming of a new man. 
 
100 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 In the new place, which required him to 
 travel, he was thrown among a free-and-easy 
 class of men, fine fellows, but mainly given 
 to drink. Stelle held out for six months and 
 then began to drink again. Soon he was as 
 bad as ever, and when at last it could be en- 
 dured no longer, he was dropped. Once more 
 he knew that had he kept sober, opportunity 
 for advancement was near at hand. 
 
 His entrance into another position was 
 smoothed for him, but the power of drink 
 was upon him and but for the influence of a 
 friend he would have been dismissed. Finally 
 no power could save him. He was dismissed 
 in disgrace. 
 
 This continued for several years, opportu- 
 nities being opened over and over, only to be 
 thrown away for drink, just as it would seem 
 that great success was at hand. At one time, 
 realizing that his promises and pledges were 
 of no more power than his resolutions in 
 breaking up the habit, Stelle took a gold cure, 
 which nearly killed him. But inside of three 
 months he had begun to drink again, believ- 
 ing it was the sudden cessation which was 
 affecting his health. At that time he kept 
 from heavy drinking for nearly three years. 
 Had he been told of the power of Christ to 
 take it all away, he in all probability would 
 
A MAN'S UNDOING 101 
 
 have turned to him. He knew that many 
 times, when in dire extremity, sometimes when 
 expecting arrest, sometimes when down and 
 out, he had cried unto God out of his despair 
 and speedily the help had come ; but uniformly 
 the pledges he made to heaven at such times 
 were forgotten as readily as they were made. 
 From a backward view Stelle realizes that at 
 such times God really visited him and would 
 have saved him had he surrendered. 
 
 When his health gave out he returned to 
 his old home and was received with all the 
 love that fond parents could bestow; but 
 though he made a pretense of religion, it was 
 no more than a form, perhaps not wholly sin- 
 cere. When he went west again he soon for- 
 got it, and other forms of sin led to the drink, 
 and in a little time he was as bad as ever. 
 
 A great many times he had been led into 
 crooked deeds to secure money to keep up his 
 dissipation, but now the adversary seemed to 
 take full control of his will, and he plunged 
 into evil hard to realize now. He had been 
 placed in a position of trust, where he was 
 under a ten-thousand-dollar bond, and had 
 accepted the responsibility, though he had 
 said to himself that he never would handle 
 money for others, knowing his weakness when 
 the drink was in control. In an emergency, 
 
102 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 when he needed a considerable sum, the first 
 step was taken. Restraint seemed let loose 
 then, and his debauches were frequent and 
 frightful. Still he held his job, and it was sev- 
 eral years before his superior learned that 
 he drank at all; how it happened Stelle could 
 not fathom, since he kept a bottle in the office 
 constantly. 
 
 About this period he was chaffing over a 
 friend who found it necessary to provide a 
 large amount of whisky to last over Sunday, 
 when the bartender interrupted and declared 
 that Stelle drank as much as the other man, 
 and proved a consumption of over a quart 
 of whisky a day. It staggered but did not 
 stop him. 
 
 "I was so completely under the power of 
 drink that I would have robbed myself to get 
 it, failing any other way," he says. "I could 
 scarcely pass the saloons where I was in the 
 habit of going; in fact, I had a regular route 
 that I visited every day, hoping in this way 
 to conceal the amount I was drinking. But 
 I could not deceive myself." Of course there 
 was an end to this. In time he was discov- 
 ered, both in his drinking and his crooked- 
 ness. The latter he settled, but the drink- 
 ing went on. He had been placed in a 
 more responsible position in the meantime, in 
 
A MAN'S UNDOING 103 
 
 which he handled large sums of money, though 
 not in cash. At one time he signed a check 
 for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars 
 in the course of business; sums of one third 
 and one half that amount were frequent. He 
 also directed the expenditure of very large 
 amounts, something like one hundred thou- 
 sand dollars a year. At this time he had ceased 
 his crooked dealings and declared he would 
 be straight, but out of the past years his 
 crookedness rose up to undo him and his 
 chances of promotion. One day he faced a 
 charge of forgery and was forced to admit 
 that it was even worse than was known. He 
 was allowed to settle, as has been stated. To 
 settle he had to "borrow" from funds in his 
 possession belonging to another — a trust ac- 
 count — which he hoped to make good, with 
 other sums he had taken from the same 
 source. He was never in a position to pay 
 back a penny ; instead he took more and more 
 until it was practically all gone. 
 
 Stelle had gone into business after losing 
 the place of trust, with bright prospects; but 
 he kept up with the drink and that soon put 
 him out of business. Then began a long de- 
 bauch which ended only in disaster and ruin, 
 and, blessed be His name, in salvation, for 
 the transition was sudden. 
 
104 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 One day Stelle thought some of his "bor- 
 rowings" had been discovered. The Evil One 
 told him that if he did not clear out quickly 
 he would get into jail. Keally there was no 
 such impending peril, but "the wicked flee 
 when no man pursueth," and for the second 
 time in his career he fled from home by night. 
 He had a large sum of money in his posses- 
 sion which did not belong to him, but he 
 was too much under the influence of liquor 
 to care. Besides he needed the money to get 
 away. The memory of that flight is hazy, but 
 it ended in New York city. The devil kept 
 telling him that if it came to the worst there 
 was suicide. Many times in recent months 
 Stelle had longed for death, but had not 
 dared to attempt it. But he had prayed 
 God to take him out of the hell in which he 
 was living. 
 
 "I was in such a nervous condition that 
 awful hallucinations came to me," said Stelle. 
 "I had dreadful visions and dreams and 
 would awake with a start, imagining I was 
 on the brink of an abyss or that some horror 
 was hanging over me. I would lay awake for 
 hours, tossing about in bed, and the devil sug- 
 gested frightful crimes, from which only the 
 hand of God could have saved me. On my 
 flight I kept a bottle of whisky constantly at 
 
A MAN'S UNDOING 105 
 
 hand. It was my custom when traveling to 
 have a bottle in the hammock of my berth; 
 when I awakened, if I did not have whisky I 
 suffered agonies. In those hours many times 
 I asked God to take me out of the world 
 some way." 
 
 The devil thought he was driving Stelle to 
 a place where he must end his miserable 
 existence, but he overreached himself. Really 
 he was driving him to the gates of heaven. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 Up and Doing 
 
 When Stelle arrived in New York city he 
 sought a hotel where he had been accustomed 
 to stay years before, for he thought no one 
 would know him after twenty years, and he 
 registered under an assumed name, taking 
 that of a former chum. He did little but 
 drink, sleeping off one drunk after another. 
 In a few days he met an old-time friend who 
 did not recognize him. The man was a mil- 
 lionaire, but had been on a continuous drunk 
 for a year or two, with no thought of stopping 
 it — without desire to do it, and without the 
 slightest idea that it was possible to stop. 
 He had tried various cures and knew their 
 impotency to take away the appetite for 
 strong drink. 
 
 By degrees Stelle worked himself into the 
 confidence of the man, calling up things from 
 the past to prove that they had once been 
 friends and drinking companions, and from 
 that time he was a fairly constant companion 
 of the millionaire drunkard. Many a time 
 he helped the man home. On such occasions 
 his friend Gillen grew confidential and re- 
 
 106 
 
UP AND DOING 107 
 
 marked that Stelle had better let up in his 
 drinking or he would go broke. 
 
 "I cannot possibly spend all my income," 
 Gillen would say, "not even if I paid all the 
 bills for all our crowd and kept it up year 
 in and year out. But you have no right to 
 spend your money to buy diamonds for the 
 bartender." 
 
 As a matter of fact, Gillen usually paid 
 all the checks for drinks and lunches for 
 the crowd which hung about him, including 
 Stelle. The latter soon learned that all but 
 one or two were grafters, who were after the 
 old man's money. He learned that several 
 of them had already "touched" him for sums 
 in the hundreds and were planning to get 
 more. Gillen, in spite of his drinking, had 
 some idea of all this, but under the mellow- 
 ing influence of the cup he was loquacious 
 and generous. 
 
 After a couple of weeks of this Gillen told 
 Stelle that one of the men wanted to borrow 
 a considerable sum to put into a small busi- 
 ness, but that he doubted whether it would 
 be a good investment. 
 
 "Will you go in there and look after my 
 interests if I make the investment?" asked 
 Gillen. 
 
 This was the very opportunity Stelle had 
 
108 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 been awaiting. "Sure thing," he replied; 
 "if there's anything in it." 
 
 Then Gillen asked Stelle to look over the 
 business and report as to its possibilities, 
 and an appointment was made for the pur- 
 pose by Gillen. 
 
 Stelle thought he saw a way to handle that 
 cash, and perhaps some more, and also 
 thought he knew who eventually would have 
 the money if all went along smoothly. 
 
 There were some things he had not counted 
 on, however. To carry out his plan he felt 
 that he must keep a clear head — at least that 
 was necessary to successfully investigate the 
 business. That was the sole reason why he 
 went to bed early one night, that he might 
 awake semi-sober and get through with the in- 
 vestigation before Gillen put in an appearance. 
 Gillen had been put to bed early, in bad 
 shape. He had confided to his friend that he 
 felt that he would have to "cut out" his heavy 
 drinking. 
 
 "I'm beginning to see things," he said, "and 
 I guess after a few days I will go up to my 
 country house, where there is no whisky and 
 where a doctor can pull me around into 
 shape. If I don't, I'll die," he said. 
 
 Providence ordered that next day Gillen 
 should be kept in bed and in a condition such 
 
UP AND DOING 109 
 
 that he could transact no business. Because 
 he was nearer sober than he had been in 
 months, and because he was impatient when 
 Gillen did not appear to hear the report, Stelle 
 began to reflect, and came to a realization of 
 his condition, of where he was, of what he 
 had been doing, and of the awful sins against 
 society and individuals of which he had been 
 guilty in recent times. When he consulted 
 his purse he found that "the roll" he had 
 brought out of the West had so far been spent 
 that unless it were replenished quickly he 
 would be down and out. He fully expected 
 to do that as soon as he saw Gillen. God 
 ordered otherwise. 
 
 Learning that Gillen was too ill to see any- 
 one before morning, Stelle concluded that he 
 would look for a position, never doubting 
 that he would get one at the first newspaper 
 office he visited. To fortify himself for the 
 interview he took several drinks on the way — 
 so many, in fact, that when he reached the 
 office he realized, with his hand upon the 
 doorknob, that it was useless to enter, such 
 was his condition. He groaned as he turned 
 away and bemoaned the habit that bound him. 
 That was an opportunity for the adversary. 
 
 "You know you came down here to end 
 your life when your money gave out; why 
 
110 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 don't you do it?" This was the way Satan 
 argued with Stelle. "You cannot hope for 
 any more chances; there are none. You have 
 had more than most men in your time and 
 you threw them all away. Life does not have 
 any more for you. Besides, you couldn't keep 
 sober. The best thing for you is the river 
 or some other way of suicide. Better do it 
 to-night, while you are in the mood for it." 
 
 Stelle had to admit that he had tried over 
 and over and had failed as many times; that 
 life itself had been distorted, had become a 
 hell upon earth, and while he meditated, torn 
 by conflicting emotions, the devil said to him : 
 "Now just take another drink and then go 
 down to the river. You can get on a ferryboat 
 and slip overboard in the middle of the river 
 and no one will be the wiser, and it will be 
 over quickly. There is no need for you to 
 suffer such remorse." 
 
 Poor, foolish Stelle! Bargaining with the 
 worst enemy he had! But then, he had sold 
 himself long before. So he took two drinks, 
 instead of one, and went upon a ferryboat 
 over which he had traveled many times in 
 years past while en route to scenes of riotous 
 living where he could see "life." And here 
 he was, seeking death. 
 
 But when the boat was in midstream his 
 
UP AND DOING 111 
 
 courage had vanished. The river was full of 
 floating ice, for it was midwinter, and an ex- 
 ceptionally cold season. 
 
 "It would kill me to jump into that cold 
 water," he said, forgetting for the moment 
 that this was what he wanted most of all. 
 
 That night he drank heavier than usual 
 and went to his room at midnight vowing 
 that he would not leave it until carried out. 
 Sitting on the bed half dressed, Stelle sought 
 a means whereby he could fulfill the devil's 
 orders, and finally a plan was suggested which 
 he thought he could carry out, since there 
 was little pain to it. He arose to finish dis- 
 robing, but before he had finished this he was 
 on his knees sobbing out to God his desire to 
 have another chance to live, and this time 
 to live right. 
 
 "I never can tell what made me do that," 
 he said afterward; "why from a contempla- 
 tion of death should spring such a strong 
 desire to live. I do not know whether it was 
 some reflex of the youthful days in church 
 and Sunday school and the precepts fastened 
 in my heart by teacher and pastor; whether 
 mother was praying for her wandering boy 
 just then and her petition reached the Throne ; 
 but I know that Jesus was out on the moun- 
 tain that night seeking the lost sheep and 
 
112 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 that a cry went up to heaven, 'Kejoice, for 
 the Lord brings back his own.' 
 
 "I do not know how long I was on my 
 knees; I only know that as I pleaded with 
 God a panorama of past evil flashed before 
 me, revealing all the awful deeds, appalling 
 as I beheld them. I know too that the lesson 
 of faith learned as a boy could not be swept 
 away by the adversary, who, you may be sure, 
 kept near me, and I know that there came a 
 time when I could stand up and say, 'Praise 
 God/ for I felt that he had given me one more 
 chance. 
 
 "I did not know then that God had saved 
 me from being a drunkard. I knew that I 
 did not want a drink ; but I supposed with the 
 morning the thirst would return. When I 
 went to bed, for the first time in months I 
 slept peacefully. Not once did I awake with 
 a craving for whisky, the regular thing with 
 me. There was a bottle on the table within 
 reach, but it was not molested. When I 
 awoke in the morning I had no 'big head/ and 
 / didn't want a drink. I thought it was 
 strange, but it had not dawned upon me that 
 this was an answer to my prayer." 
 
 Before Stelle met Gillen that day he had 
 changed the form of the report he was to 
 make. Somehow he realized that he could 
 
UP AND DOING 113 
 
 not do what he had contemplated. When they 
 met an adverse report was made in a few 
 syllables and all chance of getting a part of 
 Gillen's money vanished. 
 
 "Do you want a drink?" asked Gillen. 
 
 Usually the invitation had been "Come on," 
 but there must have been something about 
 Stelle that made Gillen change this. When 
 a negative reply was given Gillen took Stelle 
 by the arm and started for the bar, telling 
 him that one would not hurt. But when it 
 was served it did not taste right, and more 
 than half the drink remained in the glass. 
 Several times later Stelle allowed himself to 
 be urged to drink, with the same result, and 
 finally he decided that he had better not tempt 
 the old appetite. 
 
 Being nearly broke, Stelle left the hotel 
 for a room in a cheap lodging house, paying 
 for three nights. At the end of that time he 
 was flat broke and learned what it meant to 
 walk the streets in midwinter, cold and tired 
 and famished. By pawning a few trifles he 
 had with him he kept from starving, feeding 
 on a two-and-one-half-cent loaf of bread for 
 a day, when nothing better offered, on free 
 lunch, or going hungry. Work he could not 
 get, try as he would. 
 
 One stormy night, when there was nothing 
 
114 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 left to pawn and the bitter cold pierced him 
 through and through, and he was discouraged 
 by the disappointments of the day, Satan 
 came again and told Stelle: "You see; it 
 wasn't any use, after all. You think you are 
 going to live right, but there is no chance for 
 you to do it. You had better carry out what 
 you planned the other night." 
 
 It did seem as though no chance remained. 
 That night, as he walked through Washing- 
 ton Square and up Fifth Avenue, his custom- 
 ary route — for in his misery Stelle shunned 
 others — there was another struggle, and again 
 heaven sent its forces to his succor. At last, 
 after many blocks were traversed, Stelle was 
 able to hold up his hand to heaven and ex- 
 claim: "Though he slay me, yet will I trust 
 in him." 
 
 And as he looked up the clouds parted for 
 a moment revealing a patch of blue and a 
 brilliant star. Half in a dream he looked to 
 see where he was and saw that he was before 
 the Methodist building, and that brought 
 recollections of home and the old church there. 
 Half an hour later Stelle had money in his 
 pocket, come by honestly, in return for a 
 slight service of courtesy. The money came 
 from a young swell, who, with a woman com- 
 panion, had been lingering over the wineglass 
 
UP AND DOING 115 
 
 in a high-priced restaurant, and whose tongue 
 was thick as he asked Stelle, by way of re- 
 turn courtesy, if he would not have a drink. 
 
 "No," was the reply, "I don't drink. I used 
 to until it robbed me of everything, and Fve 
 quit, with God's help." 
 
 "Guess you are right," said the stranger, 
 who was taken aback by Stelle's first testi- 
 mony. The next moment he was peeling off 
 one of a roll of bills, which he handed to 
 Stelle with the remark that he hoped it would 
 do the latter good, and he was welcome to it. 
 
 The next day Stelle found a place, humble 
 enough, in an addressing establishment, and 
 the night he drew his first pay — just about 
 equal to what both before and after he had 
 earned in a single day of fewer hours — he 
 went to a mission to which he had been in- 
 vited by a card given out at a church to which 
 he had gone. During the week he had at- 
 tended a Salvation Army meeting and gave 
 a second testimony by inviting a forlorn man 
 to give his heart to God. The man refused, 
 with thanks, but months later stopped Stelle 
 on the street and thanked him for the invi- 
 tation ; then he revealed who he was, a crimi- 
 nal of international reputation, who was try- 
 ing to live honestly. 
 
 When Stelle went to the mission he found 
 
116 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 himself in a room in which he had spent 
 many hours drinking; the one from which 
 years before he had helped out two compan- 
 ions; united the three were able to walk; it 
 is doubtful if either could have done so alone. 
 
 Familiar songs were sung in the mission, 
 some of which he had not heard since child- 
 hood, but there was not much else to interest 
 until a man stood up and declared that he 
 was a redeemed drunkard. Then he told a 
 story which paralleled Stelle's history in 
 many particulars. It was Eev. S. H. Hadley, 
 for whom the mission has been named since 
 his death. 
 
 To Stelle this seemed like a revelation of 
 Jesus's love for him. "Now I know why I 
 don't want to drink," he said ; "yes, and I will 
 never have to drink again," he continued. 
 
 As the story unfolded a great joy came into 
 his soul and he received a great draught of 
 the living waters, and the very gates of heaven 
 seemed to unfold as in a vision. 
 
 That is many years ago. To-day Stelle is 
 a member of a Methodist church, restored 
 to almost all that sin had taken from him, 
 is prosperous and happy. The old church in 
 which as a boy he was nurtured has made 
 him a local preacher and he is never ashamed 
 to tell the story of his redemption. Under 
 
UP AND DOING 117 
 
 God his ministry has been blessed as he has 
 told of what Jesus did for him when he was 
 a sinner and an outcast of society, and he has 
 had the joy of leading others to the same 
 Saviour. His favorite song is that which Mr. 
 Hadley sang that first night in the mission : 
 
 O, it is wonderful, very, very wonderful, 
 
 All his grace so rich and free; 
 O, it is wonderful, very, very wonderful, 
 
 All his love and grace to me. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Cowboy Baronet Turns Soldier 
 
 "Young man, do you ever give a thought 
 to your soul's salvation? Suppose you should 
 drop dead in such a place; what do you think 
 would become of your soul ; what would your 
 mother think when she heard of it?" 
 
 A Salvation Army soldier with a bundle 
 of papers under her arm had pushed through 
 the swinging doors of the resort, which was 
 not of the highest type, and approached one 
 after another of the loungers with request to 
 buy her wares. Before one, who patronized 
 her, she paused long enough to put her 
 pointed questions; then, when the one ad- 
 dressed manifested embarrassment, she gave 
 him a card with the address of one of the halls 
 of the city, accompanied by an invitation to 
 come and see what they did in the Army. 
 
 "I'll be if I — excuse me, young woman 
 
 — that is — I'll come." 
 
 He was a handsome young fellow, tall and 
 of rugged build, bronzed by contact with the 
 sun and wind and storms of the plains and 
 of the sea. He looked every inch a man, as 
 he leaned on the bar rail, but of a man gone 
 
 118 
 
COWBOY BARONET 119 
 
 wrong, for there was no mistaking the fact 
 that his rollicking spirit came from the bot- 
 tle behind the bar. 
 
 Next night found him at the meeting place. 
 He had left his companions rather abruptly 
 the night previously after the Salvation Army 
 girl had passed on, and had gone to his room 
 without taking another drink. Nor did he 
 feel like eating his customary lunch before 
 retiring. Thoughts of retiring, in fact, had 
 not come to him, for he was troubled — 
 troubled as he had never been before in his 
 life of ups and downs as sailor, soldier, and 
 cowpuncher, among other things. He could 
 not forget the question put to him in the saloon, 
 try as he would. He was not accustomed to 
 think of such things, but he could not think of 
 anything else now. The frank face of the girl 
 and her earnestness as she addressed him, as 
 well as her strange interrogation, had com- 
 pletely upset him. 
 
 He mused over the matter long and decided 
 to attend the meeting. For two weeks he sat 
 and listened to the simple presentation of the 
 gospel by officers and converts. It surprised 
 him, for he had never heard personal reli- 
 gion so dealt with. As he listened he came 
 to realize that, though religion such as he had 
 come in contact with before had not appealed 
 
120 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 to him, yet there was something very at- 
 tractive about the gospel of the lowly. It had 
 in it something he had never dreamed of in 
 all his wild and varied career. 
 
 One night, in the solitude of the hall room 
 he occupied, he knelt beside his bed and with 
 tears in his eyes and tears in his heart he 
 uttered the prayer of the penitent, and a new 
 song, begun in heaven, echoed within his 
 breast. The following night he stood up in 
 the meeting and told what he had done and 
 of his desire to become a soldier at once. 
 Shortly afterward he was enrolled in another 
 corps, located more conveniently, and soon 
 was made janitor, his business being to clean 
 the place, with the help of converts, to dust 
 the benches, distribute the song books, and, 
 as he had a good voice, lead the music, and 
 tell the story of his conversion, both in the 
 open-air service and that within the hall. 
 
 This man is a baronet, of the bluest of 
 England's blue blood, twelfth in succession to 
 the title and estates, but preferring an officer's 
 title in the work he has chosen for his future 
 occupation. He became a candidate for a 
 commission with every prospect of receiv- 
 ing it in due season. 
 
 The baronet was born into one of the finest 
 of the English noble families. His remote 
 
COWBOY BARONET 121 
 
 ancestors had come with the invaders under 
 William the Conqueror, from Normandy. 
 More than two hundred and fifty years ago 
 the crown created the baronetcy, which is 
 fifth oldest in the list of all England. The 
 ancestral estates were ample and highly valu- 
 able, and beautifully situated, but heavily 
 encumbered. One of his ancestors had been 
 a spendthrift and plastered on the mortgages. 
 
 Pride of birth counted for naught with the 
 lad who afterward became celebrated the 
 world around as the Cowboy Baronet, for he 
 was born with a roving disposition — a wan- 
 derlust far in excess of that which possesses 
 all boys — and he gave it full sway. At four- 
 teen he became a cadet on a training ship 
 of the British navy and might have been an 
 officer to-day; but it was too slow for the 
 spirited boy, its monotonous routine, and 
 the stern discipline too tedious, and so he 
 stole away. He shipped for two years on a 
 whaler, and before he left the vessel had been 
 twice around the world. 
 
 His father thought him hopelessly bad and 
 despaired of making anything out of him. 
 At sixteen, after his world trips, he had be- 
 come familiar with the worst of every port 
 where the ship touched; he had lived among 
 a set of men of the hardest type of sailors 
 
122 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 for two years, had learned to drink and to 
 participate in all the other vices to which 
 Jack Tar is habituated. 
 
 Next he enlisted in the Hussars under Gen- 
 eral Baden-Powell, and served five years in 
 India. He had grown to be a brawny young 
 man, a hard drinker, and his own father would 
 not have known him, or, had he recognized 
 him, it would have been to disown him. 
 
 When his enlistment was over a gold ex- 
 citement was in progress in the hills of north- 
 ern India and the baronet went there. He 
 worked at Kola for several months, living the 
 life of a miner, drinking and carousing with 
 the oldest and toughest of the lot, ready for 
 a scrap at any time and quite as likely as not 
 to come out best man. He seemed to love to 
 fight for the fight's sake, and used to say that 
 he enjoyed being knocked down more than 
 any other man he knew. 
 
 In spite of his prodigality he returned 
 home with considerable money. Lavish ex- 
 penditure upon himself and liberality with 
 others soon took it all. When his last pound 
 was gone he enlisted for home service, but 
 it was too quiet. He borrowed money on his 
 prospects from those who make it a business 
 to loan to the nobility and bought his freedom 
 from the army. Strange that to-day he is 
 
COWBOY BARONET 123 
 
 making his way into another army, paying 
 for his training to become an officer. 
 
 Then he borrowed more thousands from 
 the same sources, lived at the clubs and en- 
 deavored to play the society man. He was 
 encouraged by some anxious mammas, who 
 did not know his history, nor that his pros- 
 pects were hopelessly involved. Though he 
 cut quite a dash for a time, it palled on him, 
 for pink teas, the idle gossip of the drawing 
 room and the dawdling of the club, though 
 relieved by nights of dissipation and revelry, 
 soon became too tame to the man whose red 
 corpuscles had been set tingling by the ad- 
 venture of a whaling ship and the excitement 
 of the mining camp. He left again. 
 
 This time it was to Africa he went, but 
 his inspection was brief, as he did not like 
 the country ; and so he came to America. He 
 had heard weird tales of cowboy life on the 
 plains and it attracted him. It was but a 
 few weeks before he was astride a broncho, 
 clad in sombrero, blue shirt, and "chaps," a 
 red bandana knotted about his neck, a brace 
 of revolvers and a cartridge belt completing 
 the picture, precisely as depicted by Rem- 
 ington and Dan Moran. 
 
 When he was not "working" the cattle, 
 breaking ponies, or engaged in the roundup, 
 
124 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 or shooting up some frontier town, he prob- 
 ably was in Denver, at one of the best hotels, 
 showering his money about as though the 
 supply were unlimited. Despite the uncouth 
 dress of the plains, his undoubted gentility 
 and his money gained him an entree to hotels 
 and clubs, and society even sought him. 
 Then back to the cow camp on Half-Circle-B 
 ranch until he was ready for another whirl. 
 
 He outfitted with the Arrowhead ranch in 
 Wyoming for a time and transferred his at- 
 tentions to Cheyenne. After a time he moved 
 to Arizona, and, while he was foreman on 
 the G-bar-C ranch, he was made sheriff of 
 Cochise County, than which no more lawless 
 county existed in that period. Eenegades, 
 outlaws, horse thieves, and train robbers in- 
 fested the county, and gun play was fre- 
 quent. The man who could draw his gun first 
 survived; they planted the other man beneath 
 a cactus. The baron maintained order as 
 well as any of his predecessors. 
 
 The breaking out of the Spanish-American 
 war offered fresh opportunity for excitement. 
 He tried to get in the Roosevelt Eough Riders, 
 but had not been on the range long enough, 
 and the best he could do was to enlist to 
 command a pack train going to Porto Rico, 
 under General Miles. He saw little of real 
 
COWBOY BARONET 125 
 
 war, but it kept him supplied with adventure, 
 and he remained in the service until the war 
 was over; then he returned to England. 
 
 A few days sufficed to satisfy his longing 
 for the old home; then he obtained a place 
 as quartermaster on an Oriental steamship 
 and returned to India. He enlisted again 
 and was sent to the Chinese border, where 
 there always is unrest. He had hardly set- 
 tled down to the post routine when the Boxer 
 rebellion broke out across the border. The 
 garrison was too small to fight the fanatical 
 Chinese, but did good service in its retreat 
 by gathering up the scattered missionaries 
 and other foreigners and protecting them 
 while en route out of the danger zone. He 
 saw more excitement before the Boxer trouble 
 had ended, when he was discharged from the 
 service. 
 
 A year in the Burmah jungles, hunting wild 
 animals for the mere sport of killing, was his 
 next diversion. It was said that he slew 
 more wild game than that other former cow- 
 boy who spent some time in Africa more 
 recently and was celebrated as a "mighty 
 hunter." When this thirst for blood was sati- 
 ated the baronet returned to India, but a long- 
 ing for more American adventures came upon 
 him and he was soon back in the cow 
 
126 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 camps of the West. He drifted farther and 
 farther away from the frontier of civiliza- 
 tion, hid himself in the remote camps, and 
 was lost sight of; when he wanted extra ex- 
 citement he went to some mining camp instead 
 of the large cities. 
 
 Because he hid himself away, when his 
 father died, in 1907, it was months before the 
 news reached him through an English paper 
 which had been sent to another Englishman, 
 a neighbor, sixty miles across the range. Sev- 
 eral years before his elder brother, heir to 
 the title and estates, had died, so that the 
 cowboy was now a real baronet. He made a 
 spectacular trip to England to claim his 
 rights, but found that he could hope for but 
 little income from the estates, owing to the 
 encumbrances, which absorbed the rents for 
 interest. The ancestral home was leased and 
 he set out to acquire a fortune large enough 
 to pay the mortgages and redeem his prop- 
 erty. He stopped in London, however, until 
 he had spent the money made by selling his 
 "life story' ' to a newspaper syndicate, and 
 then attached himself to a Wild West show 
 as a rider. This did not go very far toward 
 paying off the mortgages, and he hit upon a 
 new plan. 
 
 Arriving in state on an Atlantic liner at 
 
COWBOY BARONET 127 
 
 an American port, he summoned the ship 
 news reporters and bade them announce that 
 he had come to marry a rich American girl. 
 His requirements, as printed by the reporters, 
 were so absurd that not one girl nibbled at 
 the bait : the ancestral halls, the title of Lady 
 and her recognition at the English court. 
 
 A moving picture photographer hired him 
 to do "thrillers" before the camera, giving 
 him a salary large enough to keep him in drinks 
 and permit of a considerable amount of high 
 life. One of his more recent stunts was to 
 ride into a city saloon dressed in cowboy 
 costume, bringing terror to all within, for he 
 blazed away with his revolvers in a harmless 
 way and everyone thought a real holdup was 
 in progress. 
 
 This was the life he was leading when the 
 Salvation Army girl crossed his path. After 
 his conversion his whole life changed. He lost 
 his desire to drink and carouse and led so 
 quiet an existence that he was forgotten ex- 
 cept by a few. His only appearance in the 
 lime-light of the press was when his connec- 
 tion with the army was discovered by a 
 reporter who had met him years before. 
 When he was given a minor office in the Army 
 he celebrated it by an "English Evening," 
 which was attended by several of noble birth 
 
128 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 and many others of his countrymen. He 
 hopes when he has earned a commission to 
 be assigned as a missionary to visit some of 
 the places and classes with which he has be- 
 come familiar during his wanderings. He no 
 longer prizes his rank, preferring to be a 
 soldier of the heavenly kingdom to occupying 
 a place in the court of the greatest earthly 
 king. 
 
 A tent or a cottage, why should I care? 
 They're building a palace for me over there; 
 Though far from my home, yet still I can sing, 
 "All glory and praise! I'm a child of a King." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 Got What He Wanted 
 
 "I want some of that." 
 
 "That" happened to be salvation, and the 
 speaker had just heard a man tell how he had 
 been saved from his rebellious life. 
 
 He had not come for salvation, but money ; 
 he had been sent, with a letter of introduc- 
 tion signed by the leader, to see a man earlier 
 in the day, but God had ordered that his 
 errand should fail. The one he would see was 
 away, they told him, but would be back in 
 the evening. Having drank heavily before 
 the call, he started out to find some one who 
 knew him, to get enough money to last until 
 evening. Then he expected to ask for ten 
 dollars. 
 
 Burns had been a prosperous business man, 
 but became a failure because of his habits. 
 However, he had many friends and had been 
 able to secure five or ten dollars a day from 
 them while he was on the spree. He was 
 much disappointed not to find the missionary 
 at home, for he had been told that the latter 
 never turned anyone away. He must have 
 drink, however, and he went to find a man 
 
 X29 
 
130 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 who had been his foreman a short time be- 
 fore. 
 
 Somehow God had placed many obstacles 
 in the path of Burns that day ; he had missed 
 one man, and now his foreman was broke. 
 He had paid out his last dollar for appliances 
 for a shop he was opening, but gave a quarter. 
 When that was spent for drinks — his last — 
 Burns went back to wait for the missionary. 
 Just how he got there Burns could never 
 figure out. He was not accustomed to the 
 locality, and he was so under the influence 
 of liquor that his mind was almost a blank, 
 except for the purpose of his errand' — to bor- 
 row. 
 
 He awakened, nevertheless, in a room with 
 many others, most of them in bad shape, some 
 of them as drunk as himself; but he did not 
 even then realize fully the nature of the place 
 he was in. He had not been told that this 
 "easy" man was the superintendent of a mis- 
 sion. 
 
 Sitting close to him was a red-headed Irish- 
 man, whose one plaint was that he "wished 
 he could get a bed ticket." Still expecting to 
 get the ten dollars, Burns volunteered to see 
 that his neighbor was sent to bed. He held 
 on to his letter of introduction and later had 
 an opportunity to present it, for the mission- 
 
GOT WHAT HE WANTED 131 
 
 ary came to him when he learned Burns 
 wanted to see him. 
 
 "What can I do for you?" he asked after 
 the letter was read. 
 
 "I have been drinking too much," said 
 Burns, "and I want to sober up and go back 
 to my business. I think I can do it on ten 
 dollars." 
 
 "Is that all you want?" said the missionary. 
 
 "O, if he only knew how impossible it is 
 for me to get sober, or stay sober, he wouldn't 
 say all/' thought Burns. The next moment 
 the missionary in tones of love and sympathy 
 said: 
 
 "What you need, my dear brother, is Jesus 
 Christ as your Friend and Saviour; He will 
 sober you up so that you will never want 
 another drink." 
 
 But Burns did not believe in Jesus Christ. 
 He had scoffed at things religious for a number 
 of years. Although his early training had 
 been from Christian parents, in England, he 
 had become more interested in the theories 
 of Darwin and the speculations of Paine and 
 Mill and Ingersoll, and had said that there 
 was no God. Then, a few years later, he had 
 found a god of his own in the form of alcohol 
 and worshiped it faithfully. After a time he 
 had shifted to America to see if things would 
 
132 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 not go along better there. His idol came on 
 the same steamer, and, being a jealous god, 
 demanded constant service. 
 
 A brother in America was prospering in a 
 line of bakeries in two adjoining cities, since 
 made one. Burns went with him, mastered 
 the business, and, on the death of the brother, 
 succeeded to the ownership. He was making 
 money faster than he had ever dreamed of 
 doing. But his habit was growing, too, and 
 demanded a larger and larger quota of the 
 profits and time of the owner. 
 
 There have been wars because of tribute 
 levied on a subject people and bloody battles 
 fought ere the tyrant nation was ousted, for 
 mankind ever has hated to be subject to such 
 rule. Yet without opposition, almost, we per- 
 mit King Alcohol to demand a tribute which 
 even the wildest vagaries of ancient potentate 
 never conceived of, tribute not alone in money 
 — incomprehensible heaps of gold — but in 
 quotas of slaves each year far in excess of any 
 in history, to say nothing of the maimed and 
 dead in long lists. Who will sound anew the 
 tocsin for the fight to throw off this terrible 
 yoke? 
 
 Finally Burns had to give up business, or 
 it gave him up — which is much the same un- 
 der such circumstances — and now his idol 
 
GOT WHAT HE WANTED 133 
 
 absorbed all his time. He was a good servitor. 
 This was his condition when God led him after 
 something he did not get — money — and gave 
 him something he didn't want, but which he 
 found, to his amazement, was the very thing 
 he had been seeking all along. 
 
 No one but the man who has gone through 
 the experience can understand the abject 
 slavery of the rum curse. What a mistake 
 to think that men made in God's own image, 
 and endowed with many faculties, are drunk- 
 ards because they prefer it. At some stage 
 of the habit they would run if they thought 
 they would never want another drink from 
 any reason. But when the habit has become 
 slavery, not one but writhes and cries out for 
 freedom. Happy he who finds the Author 
 of Liberty at this time. How Burns would 
 have hailed some specific which offered to 
 cure him of drinking! He knew he could 
 prosper when sober. It was equally apparent 
 that he could do nothing worth doing while 
 a drunkard. 
 
 A man in such a state is between two fires, 
 both of consuming intensity: his every fiber 
 demands the drink, every nerve demands its 
 stupefying solace. He simply must have the 
 drink. One drink, however, will not still the 
 nerves ; there must be another, and another, and 
 
134 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 then more, until the narcotic brings cessation 
 of consciousness. On the other side the flame 
 of remorse burns brightly. When the brain is 
 clogged with alcohol frightful visions come; 
 when thought runs free terrible depression 
 comes, and but one way seems open — to drown 
 the sensibilities by more drink. To use a 
 gambler's phrase: "Either way he plays he 
 loses." 
 
 The man with the demon within may strug- 
 gle to free himself, may try cures of many 
 kinds; but "this kind cometh not out save by 
 fasting and prayer." None but the Great 
 Physician can heal in such extremity, and 
 Burns at last was in his presence. 
 
 When he heard men tell of the miracles of 
 healing he wanted to be made whole, and cried 
 out. O, the soul agony in that cry, the faith 
 — believing for the very work's sake— em- 
 bodied in his appeal. And He who spake to 
 another unfortunate, "According to your 
 faith be it done unto you," heard the cry. 
 Quicker than the utterance came the answer, 
 and the hungry soul had found what he 
 wanted at last. 
 
 He had not been freed of the demon, as 
 yet, and the penitent form was assailed by 
 doubts and fears. 
 
 "You praying?" said the Tempter; "why, 
 
GOT WHAT HE WANTED 135 
 
 you know you don't believe in prayer. What 
 good is it going to do you?" 
 
 Burns got up from his knees several times 
 before the perfect work of the Spirit was ac- 
 complished within him and the victory gained, 
 with all the deliverance and joy which the 
 knowledge of sins forgiven brings. 
 
 A doctor who had studied the effect of alco- 
 hol upon the human system for a temperance 
 organization sat through a meeting one Sun- 
 day and heard men tell of instantaneous re- 
 lease from the drink curse, and heard the 
 man on the platform promise rum-soaked men 
 that they could, if they chose, go from the 
 room and never want another drink. She 
 approached the missionary at the close of the 
 meeting with a request for an interview. 
 When they were alone the doctor said : "How 
 can you tell those poor men what you did? 
 I am a physician and have studied alcohol's 
 effect on the stomach." Then followed a de- 
 tailed description of the ulcerations in the 
 drunkard's stomach and other conditions and 
 the declaration that no power could still the 
 cry of that stomach for alcohol until long 
 treatment had healed its sores. 
 
 The doctor was very earnest. She talked 
 rapidly and with considerable vehemence, 
 closing with a repetition of the question: 
 
136 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 "How can you tell those poor men these things 
 when you must know it is not so?" 
 
 The missionary knew little of medical 
 science, but he knew that in the twinkling of 
 an eye he had forgotten the desire for a drink. 
 As the doctor rattled on, the marvel of the 
 miracle grew upon him. When she had fin- 
 ished he burst forth: "Praise the Lord! I 
 never knew before that he had given me a new 
 stomach." 
 
 The doctor fled. 
 
 So it had been with Burns. While he knelt 
 the bonds were removed and he never again 
 felt the desire for drink. Science said it was 
 impossible, but with Him all things are pos- 
 sible, and the deed was done. 
 
 For many years the unbeliever has been 
 telling of the power of God unto salvation. 
 He is the head of the mission where he found 
 release and is constantly drawing men toward 
 that same fountain of power. Gathered 
 around him in the work is a strong band of 
 men who have come up from bondage into the 
 promised land under his ministration and 
 have proved that He is the power of God unto 
 salvation unto everyone that believeth. 
 
 He has never made as much money as he 
 did before he became a drunkard, but he is 
 laying up treasure incorruptible, and, what 
 
GOT WHAT HE WANTED 137 
 
 is far more important, others are profiting by 
 his work. He has some of the noblest Chris- 
 tian men in the world behind his work — men 
 whose names are known in financial and com- 
 mercial life. Somehow, drunkards and crooks 
 seem to gravitate to the mission, led by the 
 Spirit, whose seal of approval is, after all, 
 the most important feature of the work. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A Life Sentence 
 
 Roberts had not been born a thief, but he 
 had gravitated into that life very naturally, 
 and for half a century he had kept the police 
 of many cities alert — when he was not in jail 
 and, therefore, the cause of no alarm. 
 
 He had entered the world in an Eastern 
 city, had been orphaned early in life, and had 
 been forced into the thick of the struggle for 
 existence when wholly unfitted to cope with 
 the problems which he must solve day by day, 
 and was handicapped by the lack of the loving 
 counsel of father and mother. Thrown into 
 the streets, he became a newsboy, bootblack, 
 errand boy, doing that which came nearest to 
 his hand, and, somehow, managed to wrest 
 from the world a meager living. But often 
 it was a hallway or a truck for a bed, and often 
 a lingering look in a bakery window was as 
 near as he came to acquiring a meal. 
 
 With this beginning, it was small wonder 
 that he grew into a sneak thief and pickpocket. 
 It was easy to snatch a handful of peanuts, 
 an apple, or an orange from the pushcart, and 
 then to run, giving the cart a push, to make 
 
 138 
 
A LIFE SENTENCE 139 
 
 sure that the owner would be fully occupied 
 in keeping his stock from the street, and so 
 could not give chase. It was easy to slip 
 through an open window, or an unfastened 
 door, or over a transom, and hide under his 
 coat some article negotiable at the pawnshop. 
 
 One day, looking for an opportunity to 
 plunder, he saw a safe he thought he could 
 open. That night he did the job and found it 
 was easy. 
 
 "What's the use of working when there's 
 easy money like this?" he soliloquized. 
 "What's the use of doing petty thieving, when 
 in one night I can make as much opening safes 
 as in a year at the old game?" 
 
 The police had a new force to deal with. 
 A new hand was at the game, a new yegg 
 breaking safes. It was some time before the 
 trail led so close to the culprit that he decided 
 that his health required a change of climate. 
 
 The genesis of the crook is rapid and easy; 
 the turning away from the crooked to the 
 straight path seldom comes early in his career. 
 Many a weary day passed before Koberts was 
 ready to mend his ways. 
 
 It was not long before the police of the West 
 found that a new safe burglar was operating 
 here and there. There is such a distinct indi- 
 viduality in the work of this class that the 
 
140 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 police always know when a new man blows 
 open a safe, by the workmanship. Immune 
 from arrest for a long time, Eoberts was 
 brought to bay at last, and a prison term was 
 given. Eeform? His experience in that 
 prison brought no lasting desire. True, like 
 the devil of the poetic fable, with monastic 
 desires when ill, the prison bird had declared 
 over and over that this would be his last time 
 behind the bars; but once freed his first 
 thought was where he could raise some money. 
 Soon another safe was wrecked, and again 
 the police were hunting the robber. Yet 
 there was a difference : this time they thought 
 they recognized the handiwork and they had 
 a description and photograph of the suspect — 
 it was before the days of the Bertillon system 
 of registering crooks. 
 
 For fifty years this had gone on. Roberts 
 was not caught always, and he made many 
 big hauls. Were some of his crimes enumer- 
 ated the man would be recognized as one of 
 the most daring and successful of his calling. 
 The police were baffled more than once; more 
 than twice they got their man, but could not 
 prove their case, nor find the loot, though feel- 
 ing certain that he had it. There were other 
 times when a term in jail followed the trial. 
 
 Prison, in time, will break the nerve of any 
 
A LIFE SENTENCE 141 
 
 man. All safe robbers, after a few arrests, 
 lose some of their confidence in their superior 
 ability and attain a higher respect for the 
 police; also, an intense hatred for such natu- 
 ral enemies as the plain-clothes men. Eob- 
 erts had tried his hand as highwayman and in 
 second-story work, when a safe job was not 
 pending, and he was in need of money. He 
 was known to the police of a score of cities 
 as a slick grafter and all-round crook. It was 
 many years before he lost his nerve, but the 
 time came when he felt himself no longer a 
 match for the police. 
 
 He changed his residence often, and, except 
 when forced to do so by the police, rarely 
 lingered long about the scene of his exploits, 
 though return visits were not infrequent. 
 Up and down the country, from coast to coast, 
 from Lakes to Gulf, committing one class of 
 crime here and another there, he moved along 
 with the ceaseless tide of the criminals and 
 the unemployed. 
 
 Nearly twenty years ago he reached a 
 Western city and was broke. He had been 
 up in Minnesota grafting and it had become 
 too warm for him, so he took what is known 
 in the underworld as a "side-door Pullman," 
 which is a stock or box car, bound for Chicago. 
 He was put off the train in a Mississippi River 
 
142 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 city and was arrested at once by a policeman, 
 who recognized him as an old-timer. The 
 judge heard his story, but, there being no 
 crime alleged, he was freed with a warning to 
 leave the city immediately. He was willing 
 to leave. He walked across the bridge to 
 another city and was arrested again, the 
 same program was repeated, and he walked 
 to the third of the tri-city group. He saw 
 that arrest awaited him there too, for the 
 police were watching him. He knew that the 
 justice of the peace in that place was a strong 
 churchman and never let off anyone, and so 
 he slipped into the railroad yards and took 
 a box car again. He landed at the other end 
 of the division with forty cents in his pocket 
 and sought a former pal at his usual hang- 
 ing-out place. 
 
 "Gone out of town on a little job," said 
 the bartender. "He'll be back in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 Eoberts spent fifteen cents for supper and 
 a quarter for a room in a lodging house, some- 
 what below his usual standard. Next morn- 
 ing he went out and "bummed" the price of 
 a drink before going to locate his friend. But 
 he knew that one of his reputation could not 
 remain in the city many hours without being 
 picked up by the police, so he decided to go 
 
A LIFE SENTENCE 143 
 
 to headquarters and obtain permission to 
 linger twenty-four hours. As he stood before 
 the chief of the detective bureau he pleaded: 
 "Chief, give me another chance, won't you? 
 I'll get a job and go to work. If you won't 
 do that, give me twenty-four hours so that 
 I can find a friend who is out of town to-day. 
 I can get some money from him and will go 
 away and start over somewhere." 
 
 "Roberts, I'm afraid to trust you twenty- 
 four hours. When you come into the city 
 you make trouble for us always. We cannot 
 keep track of you. As for your going to 
 work — bah! don't try to 'con' me." 
 
 The chief was not hard-hearted, nor de- 
 sirous of hounding a man whom he had tried 
 to keep track of for years, but he did not 
 believe that the man before him was really 
 desirous of reforming. He had heard the 
 same plea many times before, and where were 
 the reformed ones? Though hardened by 
 years of contact with the criminal classes, 
 he had a heart within him, and willingly 
 would have given the permission asked had 
 he believed the applicant to be sincere. 
 
 He thought he knew the man and could not 
 see where there was a possibility of reforma- 
 tion to one who had preyed on the public for 
 fifty years. He knew the result of prison life 
 
144 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 in dwarfing a man's capabilities also, and 
 knew the handicap of the man with a prison 
 experience and record. 
 
 Eoberts was crestfallen as he left the build- 
 ing. What could he do and where could he 
 go? He did not have a cent; it was midwinter 
 and he was wearing still his last summer's 
 clothes, and he pondered upon his hard lot. 
 Whatever argument may be presented that 
 there is no hell hereafter, the crook knows that 
 there is one here; he lives there. Hell-fire 
 sermons make little impression upon such; it 
 is love that never faileth. 
 
 Making for the railroad yards, expecting to 
 leave the city, Eoberts happened to meet — no, 
 there was no happen; it was God's appoint- 
 ment — a man now a national character. Eob- 
 erts had known him for years, first as a news- 
 paper reporter, who had sought from the 
 crook news of the underworld and had ac- 
 quired a number of "exclusives" from that 
 source. 
 
 "Help me get a job," was the crook's plea, 
 as he told his predicament. 
 
 "Why, you do not want to work; what 
 are you talking about? You would not take 
 a job if I got one for you," said the friend. 
 
 He thought Eoberts had been a crook so 
 long that his was a hopeless case. There was 
 
A LIFE SENTENCE 145 
 
 one man who thought the prodigal son was 
 in like status. The plea was strong, however, 
 and the crook and newspaper man started 
 for the latter's office to consider the matter. 
 Several detectives eyed Koberts on the ele- 
 vated train, but his companion was known, 
 and a nod reassured them. 
 
 Going up in the elevator, the proprietor of 
 a great enterprise located in the building was 
 encountered. 
 
 "Mr. Cole, I want to introduce you to an 
 old friend of mine. He has been a crooked 
 man, but is a pretty good sort of a fellow, 
 and he says he wants to reform." 
 
 This was the introduction and the crook's 
 heart sank within him. "Surely," he thought, 
 "this man will telephone to the police, and 
 they will get me again for not leaving the 
 city as they ordered." 
 
 In the office the three sat down to talk it 
 over. 
 
 "I want you to put this man to work," the 
 newspaper man said. "Give him a chance for 
 my sake." 
 
 "Come in to-morrow and I'll see what I can 
 do for you," was the rather reluctant reply 
 to this appeal. "I have no job that I know 
 of, but I'll put you on the payroll for seven 
 dollars a week, and every morning you can 
 
146 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 come in and get your dollar until I find a 
 place for you." 
 
 "I would have died before stealing a cent 
 from that man after that," said Roberts. 
 
 That night he met a former pal who had 
 great news to tell him; how he had gotten 
 into a mission and found out that there was 
 a way to get out of the evil life. Roberts went 
 with his friend, and for the first time heard 
 the gospel of salvation for a crook. Men told 
 how they had been drunkards and thieves and 
 had become sober and honest through faith 
 in Jesus Christ. Some of them he knew, and 
 he could see that they were different. That 
 night Roberts sought the same salvation and 
 found it. 
 
 The crook who had prided himself on his 
 keenness of vision, and his ability to spot a 
 detective two blocks away, had his eyes opened 
 as truly as the blind man on the Jericho road, 
 and what he saw was the same Jesus, with 
 arms outstretched, much as he must have 
 stood in that other day, ready to forgive all 
 the dreadful past. He who had been in six 
 different prisons for breaking the law became 
 a prisoner again, but this time of One whose 
 bondage is easy and whose burden is light. 
 This time he received a life sentence and has 
 never asked release on parole. 
 
A LIFE SENTENCE 147 
 
 In a few days he was installed as porter by 
 his new boss. A week later two detectives 
 called at the office and told the proprietor the 
 kind of a man he had in his employ. But 
 Roberts had told first, what his friend had 
 not, and the detectives were sent away dis- 
 concerted, with the information that the pro- 
 prietor knew more about his new porter than 
 they did, and was satisfied. 
 
 In time Roberts was advanced until he be- 
 came receiving clerk, handling thousands of 
 dollars' worth of goods each month and 
 accounting for all. Nearly twenty years he 
 has served of his life sentence, and everyone 
 about him soon knows it; some of them he 
 has led to the Master. He has told the story 
 of his redemption to thousands, from plat- 
 form and pulpit, being in demand for revival 
 work; rarely has he failed to see men won to 
 Jesus by his recital. 
 
 Roberts now lives in a fine house on one 
 of the boulevards of the city where he started 
 his new life. He owns another and has a 
 line of mortgages and a bank account, suffi- 
 cient to keep him in his declining years, though 
 he has given away as much more to help 
 others like he once was. He still holds his 
 position, but with assistants to make it easy, 
 and there is no more respected man in the 
 
148 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 city to-day than the ex-safe-blower. The po- 
 lice know he is "on the square" and have a 
 good word for him. The man who ordered 
 him out of town is dead, but for years he was 
 accustomed to drop in on Eoberts occasion- 
 ally, at his office, not to ascertain whether 
 he was keeping straight, but to keep alive 
 his faith in humanity and to remind himself 
 that the Divine could do more than the strong 
 arm of the law for a fallen man. "He is surely 
 a Christian, and he has got the goods on 
 him," was his rather slangy way of express- 
 ing his confidence in Eoberts. 
 
 The crown of life earned through faithful- 
 ness rests upon him who once was a menace 
 to society, his misspent and distorted life has 
 become a thing of beauty and his presence a 
 benediction to all with whom he comes in 
 contact. 
 
 As far as the west is removed from the east, 
 
 He banished my sins, both the greatest and least. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 Sunny Jim 
 
 Early Christian era painters depicted 
 Deity or a saint with an aureole. No one who 
 knows Sunny Jim will have the slightest 
 doubt that they were warranted in placing 
 a halo about the head of a Peter or a Paul, 
 nor wonder how the practice was conceived by 
 the artist. 
 
 Sunny Jim — that was before he received 
 this name — was a bartender, a waiter, a man 
 of all work, a dishwasher, in turn, until he 
 could not hold even the humblest place in a 
 cheap restaurant. Undone, he was a wretched 
 semblance of humanity, ragged and dirty, 
 always drunk or dry, homeless, friendless, 
 penniless, forsaken. When a few hours' pay 
 sufficed to get him drunk and leave enough 
 over to buy a cot in a lodging house, the night 
 clerk had another "drunk" on his hands. 
 There may have been an aura about him, but 
 not the kind a painter would care to depict 
 upon the canvas. 
 
 He was born of German parents when many 
 respectable, well-to-do families still were liv- 
 ing within the shadow of the Bowery, though 
 
 149 
 
150 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 that street was noted for its dives. He was 
 not content to drink like most Germans; that 
 was too slow. Early in life he drank heavily, 
 though he was warned that his conduct would 
 lead him to the state of the men in a lodging 
 house upon which the family could look from 
 their rear windows. He laughed at this pos- 
 sibility. But he spent many nights in that 
 very lodging house later on. 
 
 He became bartender for another German 
 of enterprising ideas, who sent him on Sun- 
 day mornings to a German church in the 
 neighborhood of the saloon, to win patronage 
 from the members of the congregation. 
 Cigars and jovial greetings were the bait 
 used; he says this advertising cost little and 
 brought big returns to the saloon, which 
 opened when church was over. The propri- 
 etor had been to another church with like 
 results. 
 
 But, being a good customer of the bar be- 
 hind which he served, in time he was dis- 
 charged as a no good." He never used religion 
 as a cloak thereafter, but served many saloons 
 behind the bar, until there came a time when 
 no one would employ him in that line, because 
 of his drunkenness. Then he became a waiter 
 and followed this line until his condition pre- 
 vented him from securing more than a few 
 
SUNNY JIM 151 
 
 hours' work at the dinner rush — if he was 
 sober enough. 
 
 With one large restaurant corporation, for 
 which he worked on and off — generally off 
 in his later days — he might have become a 
 branch manager, for he had the natural ability. 
 He chose to continue his drinking ways and 
 dropped from a waiter to omnibus — man of 
 all work — and finally to dishwasher, the most 
 menial work in that line, and even then they 
 had to let him go many times for incapacity to 
 do this work. 
 
 This did not come to him all in a year, but 
 so gradually that he scarcely noticed the gra- 
 dations down to the place where he knew 
 nothing but to live for the day, with misery 
 sure to end it. 
 
 During this period he became estranged 
 from his family, and for ten years they sought 
 him in vain. Though separated by but a few 
 miles, he was lost to his relatives. When 
 there was a death in the family his sisters 
 searched the city without result. Prisons, 
 hospitals, and every other place where a "lost" 
 man might be, were visited. When he was not 
 found, and the morgue gave no clue, it was 
 feared that he had enlisted for the Spanish- 
 American war and had been killed. The 
 departmental records did not bear his name, 
 
152 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 and they wondered if he had enlisted under 
 an assumed name. 
 
 It was midwinter when he came where the 
 gospel message was given out. He had been 
 in the bread line and heard that a supper was 
 to be given at a mission he had never known 
 of before, and he went, because he was hungry 
 for the sandwich and coffee to be served. He 
 was so filthy that he feared he would not be 
 admitted, but no questions are asked at that 
 mission, and no conditions attached to the 
 coming, for it is almost the only place where 
 the drunkard and thief are more welcome than 
 the sober man and the upright, and where the 
 highways and hedges are searched, if need be, 
 that there may be no vacant seats at the feast. 
 
 Siestas after the supper are not looked upon 
 with favor in this place. Though the hot 
 coffee and warm room woo slumber to the 
 tired men, it is customary to keep them awake 
 that the message and testimonies be not lost. 
 Sunny Jim was prodded several times; this 
 resulted in his hearing about every word ut- 
 tered. 
 
 The fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah was read: 
 "Wherefore do ye spend money for that which 
 is not bread? and your labor for that which 
 satisfieth not?" 
 
 "That fits me," said one hearer. "That is 
 
SUNNY JIM 153 
 
 what I have done all my life; it is time I 
 made a change." 
 
 With a large crowd of men he knelt and 
 obtained forgiveness. Of all the number he 
 was the only one to return, though he was 
 the most hopeless-looking case of all. A bed 
 ticket and a meal ticket supplied immediate 
 needs. He never needed help after that first 
 night. A few hours' work the next day, se- 
 cured after he told a former employer what 
 he had done, supplied his wants for that day 
 and the next, and then he secured a steady 
 job. 
 
 In recounting the experiences of the first 
 few days he said that his first temptation 
 came when he was paid off for the first day. 
 With not a cent in his pockets he had no temp- 
 tation to buy a drink, but the minute there 
 was a half dollar there the suggestion came 
 to "take one." But a voice within told him 
 that unless he wanted to be dependent upon 
 others he had better spend the money differ- 
 ently. He listened to the good promptings of 
 the Spirit and paid for two nights' lodging, 
 got a clean shirt from the laundry, and bought 
 a paper of tobacco. This took all his money, 
 and, broke, his temptation was gone. 
 
 To those who have never had the struggle 
 with sin in its virulent forms all this will 
 
154 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 seem petty; but to Sunny Jim it was the be- 
 ginning of character building, and if you had 
 heard his testimony that first night it would 
 have been very apparent that he had gained 
 a victory, and that he had learned a vital truth 
 — that while he might not be free from temp- 
 tation, yet there was a way to circumvent 
 the adversary. 
 
 In two or three days soap and water had 
 made him shine; he was clean, his clothing 
 had been made presentable, and he stood forth 
 a transformed man within and without. In 
 another week his happy testimony won him 
 the name "Sunny Jim," and it fitted his dis- 
 position so well that it has clung to him since. 
 
 One of the first things he did was to hunt 
 up his sisters and tell them of the change 
 which had come into his life. They knew 
 something had happened, for he had not come 
 to them asking for money — declined it, in 
 fact ; they were rejoiced that their prayers had 
 been answered and received him joyfully. 
 
 Another brother was missing from the 
 home. Sunny Jim began to pray on every 
 occasion that he might find that brother and 
 importuned everyone he met to do the same. 
 One night he was greeting the men entering 
 the mission, one after another, as "my brother/' 
 when he turned and found himself face to face 
 
SUNNY JIM 155 
 
 with his own brother. There was great re- 
 joicing that night, and ere long he had the 
 great joy of leading his loved one to Jesus, 
 and this was followed by a happy reunion of 
 all of the family. 
 
 To crown his blessings God has given him a 
 life partner, whom he met while trying to 
 help others. 
 
 Sunny Jim developed into a constant 
 worker for his Master. Wherever he may 
 be, in street car, restaurant, or elsewhere, he 
 bears witness to everybody of the power of 
 salvation. He is thoroughly practical and 
 believes in interpreting the gospel message in 
 terms of food and lodging and clothing, 
 though making it clear that it is all given be- 
 cause his Master loved him well enough to 
 save him. He who as bartender broke down 
 character, is now an upbuilder; dozens of his 
 old associates have followed in his footsteps 
 through his testimony and life. 
 
 If you should see him stand in the presence 
 of a crowd of sinners, telling of the love of 
 Jesus which lifted him from the depths and 
 made a new creature out of him, while im- 
 pressed with his earnestness, you would be 
 startled by his glowing countenance, for he 
 fairly seems to shine on his Mount of Trans- 
 figuration as he talks. "Sunny Jim" is only 
 
156 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 a nickname, but one seems to see the Sun of 
 Kighteousness shine forth in him. 
 
 If you give your heart to Jesus, 
 
 You will shine as the sun, 
 
 You will shine as the sun, 
 
 You will shine as the sun; 
 If you give your heart to Jesus, 
 
 You will shine as the sun, 
 As you walk the golden streets on high. 
 
CHAPTEE XVI 
 
 Sunshine 
 
 Sunshine had lived a rough life. It was 
 not environment with him, but choice that 
 led him into the darkened paths. He suffered 
 for it far beyond what the average man is 
 called upon to endure, and, though he strove 
 to get away from evil conditions and influ- 
 ences in his life times without number, yet 
 always he was unequal to the struggle. He 
 had no Helper in his straits and his sin 
 persisted. 
 
 Yet he had not been born amid evil sur- 
 roundings. His home was that of the Ameri- 
 can gentleman, his parents were church folk, 
 and Sunshine was not left ignorant of the 
 Bible and its purpose. In his early life he 
 attended one of the aristocratic churches of 
 the city, then not so exclusive as now in its 
 congregation. This was after the family 
 moved in from the country, though what then 
 was called country is scarcely out of the city 
 to-day. 
 
 It might be difficult to point to the one thing 
 which started Sunshine on the downward 
 path, for sin has insidious ways of entering 
 
 157 
 
158 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 into the life and the retrospect is not always 
 illuminating in the far reaches. For more 
 than thirty years, however, there had been 
 little in the life which was commendable. 
 
 Drink, of course, was there; that was the 
 solvent by means of which almost all the 
 other sins were carried into the life current, 
 until the stream was polluted. 
 
 One of the first effects of the drinking was to 
 drive Sunshine from home. He was not called 
 Sunshine then — that is a product of his later 
 life. He traveled with a fast lot of youths 
 who needed money to keep up the pace, and 
 there were many pawnshops handy. It was 
 easy to dispose of property, and easier still 
 to appropriate that which belonged to another. 
 The law calls that stealing, but they did not; 
 they were simply taking from the world that 
 living which they claimed as a right. That God 
 had prescribed the manner of attaining the live- 
 lihood by the sweat of the brow did not enter 
 into their ethics. If they had any ethics it 
 might be summed up in the words, familiar 
 now: "We need the money." 
 
 The law has an eye for such, and one day 
 the law stepped in and in the course of time 
 one of the private rooms in a State hotel, 
 located on the banks of a beautiful river, had 
 a new occupant. There was no sunshine there. 
 
SUNSHINE 159 
 
 It does not take many lessons of this kind 
 to compel a man to stop and think. Alas! 
 that they seldom follow the promptings of 
 their better judgment and turn away from evil. 
 Sunshine heeded in part, for he resolved that 
 the things which brought him into contact with 
 the law were to be shunned; he told himself 
 that he did not like State board, and he did 
 not propose to be a free boarder again. Had 
 some earnest Christian touched the life at 
 that juncture, Sunshine might have been 
 saved from all of his sins. 
 
 When he found that he could not break 
 with the old crowd, and could not mend his 
 ways with their help, rather than again be- 
 come involved in their work he went into a 
 little office before which were an American 
 flag, a pacing soldier, and a placard telling 
 of the need of Uncle Sam for men to fight. 
 In those days there was still some fighting 
 going on in the land; there were marauding 
 Indian bands in the Bad Lands and down 
 along the Mexican border, and occasionally 
 the Utes of Colorado broke from their reser- 
 vation and ravaged a section. Sunshine did 
 not think of the Indian fighting, else he might 
 have chosen the navy, where no sort of war 
 cloud was in sight. 
 
 The atmosphere of the barracks at an army 
 
160 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 post is not likely to aid in a man's reforma- 
 tion, at least it was not so in those days. 
 Now, with the branch Young Men's Christian 
 Association influences, there is a chance. 
 There was no reformation for Sunshine in 
 the army. In Rome he did as the Romans 
 did, which, translated, means that when his 
 comrades filled up at the fringe of saloons 
 surrounding the post, Sunshine was likely to 
 be in the middle of the festivities. There was 
 the guardhouse, of course, and extra duties 
 imposed for the infringement of the rules 
 when one stayed beyond leave, but one can 
 mark time or march and shoulder a musket 
 pretty well, though all the world seems to 
 be revolving in several directions at the same 
 instant. 
 
 All posts are pretty much alike in their 
 evil allurements. One or two, far from a 
 settlement, are better in this respect, but most 
 of them are at or near a large city, and 
 soldiers are welcome at all the dives after 
 pay day. Still, with all his failings, Sunshine 
 was an average soldier, and his irrepressible 
 wit under adverse conditions made him a 
 favorite. 
 
 There was that excursion into the Bad 
 Lands of Dakota in which he participated, 
 which also helped cover a multitude of 
 
SUNSHINE 161 
 
 transgressions. He was in the command 
 which swept over the plains and into the lava 
 beds when the Modoc massacre wiped out the 
 little band of General Logan, and he was pres- 
 ent at the capture of Sitting Bull. Sunshine 
 showed that he had the right stuff in him in 
 those days of fighting; that counts for much 
 with the officers. 
 
 When the term of enlistment was over he 
 came back to the old haunts. A new leader 
 of the old gang had appeared upon the scene, 
 and he had grouped about him a band of the 
 toughest men to be found outside of a prison. 
 Sunshine traveled with the gang on his old 
 reputation. He did not participate, however, 
 in their raids. Almost always he had a guilty 
 knowledge of their crimes; he shielded them 
 when he had the chance. 
 
 The gang was one whose name inspired 
 terror among the police of the city. The 
 leader since has been sent to a penitentiary 
 and the gang scattered, but in those days it 
 stopped at nothing. One of its members 
 boasted that up to a few months ago no man 
 who looked as though he had money or other 
 valuables could pass through certain streets 
 without being stopped by one of the gang. 
 Holdups, burglaries, shootings, and cuttings, 
 and various other evil deeds were perpetrated. 
 
162 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 When the gang was out no one was safe, not 
 even the policeman on the beat. 
 
 Although Sunshine did not engage actively 
 in the crooked work of the gang, he was with 
 them on every drinking bout. The habit had 
 grown upon him until it completely mastered 
 him. The grade of the work he was able to 
 do steadily dropped. 
 
 Then came a period to which he does not 
 often refer; when reason gave way under the 
 persistent abuse to which he submitted his 
 physical being. His vitality and mentality 
 sapped by drink and its train, the doctors 
 thought him hopeless. In the gospel days 
 probably he would have been another dweller 
 among the tombs. But God restored him and 
 for a time he was careful. Then gradually 
 he lost control of himself, and his habits were 
 such that the only place he could hold was 
 at cleaning windows ; at last he lost even that. 
 He dwelt in the saloons, foraged where he 
 could, and took in all the free suppers at the 
 missions. A picture taken one night of a sup- 
 per crowd contains a good view of Sunshine, 
 though neither his appearance nor condition 
 suggested this name at that time. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon he heard the story 
 of the raising of Lazarus, and some of the 
 utterances of the leader brought recollections 
 
SUNSHINE 163 
 
 of other days. When it came to the passage, 
 "They took away the stone," he said to him- 
 self, "I'm going to let Him take away the 
 stone from my life." 
 
 That day a Lazarus came forth from the 
 tomb. 
 
 It was not long before he gained the so- 
 briquet "Sunshine." It seemed to fit the old 
 man, now nearing sixty. His white hair and 
 fair complexion, aided by a tendency to bald- 
 ness, made his countenance fairly shine as 
 he spoke. His sunny disposition added to the 
 simile, and Sunshine he was named. No like- 
 ness is there now to the man pictured on that 
 supper night. Those who remembered the 
 forlorn individual who had been present 
 nearly every Saturday night during the win- 
 ter could hardly believe that he and Sunshine 
 were identical. No longer a denizen of the 
 underworld, he claimed a place in the upper 
 kingdom. 
 
 There were many stumblings, many mis- 
 takes and wanderings, but having once en- 
 joyed the sunshine of His love he could not 
 do without it, and he invariably returned. 
 After a time he landed firmly on the Rock, 
 and he knoweth its foundation is sure. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 Her New Husband 
 
 Long-suffering womankind does not re- 
 ceive its meed of praise from men always, nor 
 is it frequent that the husband will admit 
 that he is responsible for the ills which have 
 come upon his home, though he be drunkard 
 or worse. The life of evil, most of the time, 
 seeks to find in others the cause of the woes 
 which come into it. 
 
 Johnson, however, had not the least doubt 
 that he was blamable for the hardships his 
 wife had to endure, and for the fact that his 
 children had scarcely one to call father, for 
 he was away from home except what time 
 was required to eat and sleep, and not always 
 for that. 
 
 Perhaps it was only natural that he should 
 pray that God should give his wife a new hus- 
 band and his children a new father. That 
 was all he asked when he came seeking sal- 
 vation, but the God above saw that back of 
 this were sin-sickness and heart-weariness and 
 longing for real life, and gave all that was 
 yearned for. 
 
 Johnson had been a prosperous business 
 
 164 
 
HER NEW HUSBAND 165 
 
 man once. He had married a sweet Christian 
 woman and they had been blessed with sev- 
 eral children. His home was happy and sup- 
 plied with the good things of life until sin 
 fastened its grip upon the home's head. He 
 had learned to drink and play cards and 
 other games of chance, at first as a means 
 of diversion, then because it furnished the 
 excitement which his nature craved more and 
 more, and at last he could not remain away 
 from the gaming tables, if he had a cent to 
 wager or his credit was good with the pro- 
 prietor of the place. 
 
 This was not accomplished in a year, nor 
 in several years. His business provided him 
 with a substantial income, and when the 
 drain of constant playing told, the bank ac- 
 count covered it; and then he did not always 
 lose. The hardest gamblers are those who 
 make frequent and big winnings. He became 
 known as one of the most confirmed poker- 
 players in the lower part of his home city 
 and as a man who would buck any "tiger" 
 layout, for faro was still permitted, if not 
 run too openly. Poker, the national game, 
 was rife and rarely interfered with. 
 
 One cannot neglect business and home with- 
 out suffering for it. His business dropped 
 off, the bank account dwindled, and then he 
 
166 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 had to settle some of his debts by giving his 
 notes. By this time the home began to feel 
 the pinch. Usually this is the first place hit, 
 for, while gambling makes a spendthrift of 
 the man who wins largely, it turns into a 
 miser the man on the losing side, when he 
 sees his ill luck persist until it seems as 
 though the tide never would turn. Of course 
 the player believes that the next hand or the 
 next turn of the cards will bring the change 
 of fortune. Alas ! too often there is no change, 
 and the devotee of the god of Luck finds him- 
 self broke, with no chance of mending his 
 fortune or ways. 
 
 With such a man the first place where he 
 begins to save is in the home expenses. The 
 wife has less for the household and for dress 
 and little things for herself and the children. 
 The more the gamesters demand as tribute, 
 the less the family gets; for the infatuation 
 is so complete, and the victim so sure that 
 to-day, or to-morrow, or perhaps the day af- 
 ter, he will make a big winning and be "on 
 easy street" once more ; so it is important that 
 when luck turns he have enough to play the 
 game out. 
 
 When Johnson went broke he found many 
 willing to stake him for another try; he was 
 able to borrow large sums from those who had 
 
HER NEW HUSBAND 167 
 
 known him in prosperous days and did not 
 know that he was about "all in" financially. 
 These sums were but flea-bites to the demands 
 upon him and the losses at cards. Soon he 
 stared ruin in the face, and there were trans- 
 actions of so grave a nature that he feared 
 arrest — warrants indeed were issued. He 
 fled to escape the consequences of his sins, 
 for he knew that his sins had found him 
 out. He did not abandon his wife and chil- 
 dren, but had to leave them to subsist as best 
 they might until he was settled in another 
 city and able to send money home. The 
 wife prayed and trusted. For many years 
 she had not failed for a single day to ask God 
 to save her husband; in the fufillment of time 
 her faith was justified. 
 
 As life in the Western city was wilder than 
 the one he had left, it may be imagined that 
 Johnson did not materially improve in his 
 habits. He drank heavily at periods closely 
 coincident with salary day and for a short 
 time each month was a bright light in one or 
 more of the gaming halls; but his money did 
 not hold out long. 
 
 God had willed that he should be under 
 influences for good, and a Christian woman 
 for whom he worked often advised him for 
 his own good. Though no result was apparent 
 
168 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 from this, the seed had fallen where the soil 
 was fertile, to spring up in due season. She 
 talked to him much about his wife and chil- 
 dren, and saw to it that he sent a portion of 
 his wages regularly to them. 
 
 One day she came to him and said: "John- 
 son, you had better go home. I don't know 
 why I am thus advising you, but I feel that 
 you ought to go." 
 
 It had been several years since he left 
 his home city, and he felt that probably his 
 troubles there had blown over. He also had 
 been yearning for a sight of the home faces 
 and, without knowing why, he started to see 
 them. 
 
 He did not go home until it was dark, for 
 he was uncertain which way the land lay, 
 and did not care to meet his old friends 
 or a deputy sheriff until he knew what to 
 expect. He was received with joy and the 
 wife prayed again that the rest of her prayer 
 might be answered. Neither knew that God 
 was soon to reveal his wondrous power unto 
 them. 
 
 Not long after his return from the West, 
 on a sultry Sunday afternoon, Johnson was 
 walking on one of the main streets when he 
 was handed a small card, which he found to 
 be an invitation to a meeting in a famous old 
 
HER NEW HUSBAND 169 
 
 church. He was in his shirtsleeves because 
 of the heat and did not suppose he would be 
 welcome at the meeting. He had been sit- 
 ting at cards all night, the game lasting until 
 after the noon hour, when he was broke, and 
 he was "indigo blue," as he has expressed it. 
 He did not want to go home and confess once 
 more that he was broke, dreading the patient, 
 sorrowful face of his wife. He loved her and 
 willingly would have died for her if neces- 
 sary; alas! he could not live for her, of his 
 own power. 
 
 As he looked over the card handed to him, 
 life's failure was revealed to him. Yet as 
 he went into the meeting he had no thought 
 that the keynote of success was to be made 
 manifest unto him. He did not expect any- 
 thing from the meeting ; he wanted to sit down 
 and think things over before going home. 
 
 As he pondered over his condition snatches 
 of songs as gentle influences stole into his 
 heart, and then he heard a man speak, whose 
 voice he recognized, and he put away his medi- 
 tations to listen to his words, wondering, be- 
 times, what that man could have to say in 
 such a meeting. To his amazement the 
 speaker announced that he had been saved 
 from cards and whisky. Part of his story 
 relating to the past was common knowledge 
 
170 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 to Johnson, for he had been concerned with 
 some features of it. As he listened he could 
 see that there was a change, a something dif- 
 ferent which he could not define, though it 
 was plain to see. 
 
 "Can it be," he thought, "that there is 
 something in this religion that I have not 
 found out? Is it possible to change a gambler 
 like me into a respectable man?" 
 
 When the invitation was given, without a 
 direct suggestion from anyone, Johnson arose 
 from his seat in the last row and walked 
 down the aisle, kneeling with others at the 
 front seats. And then he prayed — thinking 
 more of the effect on his home than upon 
 himself — that God would send a new husband 
 and father there to right things. 
 
 There was a happy wife in the home that 
 night, for Johnson had hurried away to tell 
 her that her prayer had been answered at last. 
 The rejoicing that had been going on in heaven 
 over the repentant sinner found echo in the 
 home, and with children about them father 
 and mother knelt together for the first time 
 and both lifted up their hearts to the throne 
 in thanksgiving, and thus set up the family 
 altar, whose fire has never been extinguished. 
 
 Though that is a score of years ago, Johnson 
 has never ceased telling the story of his re- 
 
HER NEW HUSBAND 171 
 
 demption, which seems so wonderful to him 
 yet that he speaks with an enthusiasm which 
 is infectious. He has prospered until he has 
 a fine manufacturing business, and owns a 
 beautiful home and has everything else in 
 keeping. He has seen many of his old 
 gambling companions take the step he did 
 that Sunday afternoon. 
 
 "There's no game of chance about this," he 
 tells them; "it's the only 'sure-thing' game 
 in the world." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 A Workhouse Valet 
 
 Kaleidoscopic had been the life of Fuller 
 who from the highest-paid pulpit of an Eastern 
 city dropped down the social scale until he 
 was literally a valet to three Negroes, who 
 with him occupied a cell in the workhouse, 
 but who has been restored to the Christian 
 pulpit. 
 
 Life began fair with him. Nurtured in a 
 home where every kindly influence was thrown 
 around him, he graduated in the course of time 
 from a well-known university with the degree 
 Ph.D., then from a divinity school, and en- 
 tered the ministry in a Pennsylvania town. 
 He was successful from the first. His preach- 
 ing had the stamp of earnestness, its logic was 
 clear, and tangible results evidenced the seal 
 of the Holy Spirit upon his ministry. In two 
 years a larger field opened in a growing city. 
 He was looked upon as a rising young preacher. 
 Soon his fame spread to the chief city of the 
 State and he was called to one of its best- 
 paid pulpits. He took rank at once as one 
 of the leading pulpit orators of the city. 
 
 Fuller had married and two beautiful girls 
 
 172 
 
A WORKHOUSE VALET 173 
 
 came into the home. Then the death angel 
 entered and the light went out of the family 
 circle. He had become accustomed to take 
 a glass of wine occasionally — indeed, had taken 
 his first drink at the urging of a fair parish- 
 ioner and found wine upon the tables of some 
 of his congregation with whom he dined. In 
 his grief, poignant and insatiable, he turned 
 to the winecup for solace — rather to still and 
 steel the racked nervous system. It grew to 
 be a habit, with the chains of intemperance 
 forged about him. 
 
 One summer day, sitting in a resort hotel, 
 he was overwhelmed with the realization that 
 he had become a drunkard, was disgracing his 
 cloth, and was unfit to enter his pulpit again. 
 Worst of all, he could not see that there was 
 any chance of escaping from his thraldom. 
 He wrote at once to the officials of his church, 
 resigning the charge, and to the governing 
 board of his denomination, confessing his 
 fault and asking to be permitted to withdraw 
 from the ministry. He was his only accuser 
 and the permission was given. 
 
 Sin had robbed him of his sacred calling, 
 had driven him from his Father's house, and, 
 like another Jacob, was about to make him 
 a wanderer. 
 
 Drink drew him on. His intention was to 
 
174 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 turn to teaching for a livelihood. He did se- 
 cure a school in a Western city, remained 
 sober through the school year, and fancied 
 he had conquered the demon within him. One 
 day, however, as he stood on a corner waiting 
 for a car, he turned about to see that he was 
 before the entrance to a saloon, and was im- 
 pelled to enter. The demon was still active. 
 His school work was lost because of this spree 
 and others which followed. Newspaper and 
 magazine articles brought in a little money, 
 but when the fires of rum are burning in a 
 man's veins he has no time for painstaking 
 work. If he be a genius, rum may glorify 
 his work for a time ; whether he be or not, the 
 end is certain. 
 
 Fuller roamed the country as a tramp, 
 mingling with the unemployed and criminal 
 classes "on the road," weaving back and forth 
 over the country. He lectured at times, but 
 even though as a temperance lecturer he told 
 the horrors of the liquor traffic, he spent the 
 proceeds of his oratory drinking in some dive. 
 He wound up "on the Bowery." 
 
 Scarce a city but has its equivalent of the 
 Bowery, but only the initiated appreciate the 
 utter hopelessness of the phrase "on the 
 Bowery." "The jumping off place of hu- 
 manity," the "last end of man," the "mael- 
 
A WORKHOUSE VALET 175 
 
 strom of sin/' it has been variously called, this 
 hiding place of the vicious and home for the 
 disheartened outcast. These do not tell all. 
 
 The title of "Dr." had been forgotten by now. 
 The consort of the hopeless and friendless, 
 life was an unending round of "panhandling" 
 for drinks, for food, and for lodging. Pan- 
 handling is not as remunerative on the Bowery 
 as it was once. There are too many pan- 
 handlers for one thing; there are not so many 
 "sports," with their free-handed ways, for an- 
 other. The man who is "on the Bowery" must 
 expect to spend many a night walking the 
 streets, or on a park bench, or in the meager 
 shelter of a truck, with newspapers for sheets 
 and blankets; must expect many days of hun- 
 ger, many days of drought. What an awful 
 gulf between the fashionable pulpit and the 
 back room of a Bowery saloon! 
 
 Such of his clothing as was pawnable, or 
 salable, had gone for drink; the coat he wore 
 was minus one sleeve; underneath it was an 
 undershirt whose description had best be left 
 to the imagination; tattered trousers, gaping 
 shoes — not mates, and one soleless — and a 
 battered hat completed the make-up. One 
 June night he was arrested in Chatham Square 
 for fighting. Locked in the same cell with 
 him was a Negro, the most repulsive he had 
 
176 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 ever seen. From one of the West Indian 
 Islands, his face was scarred with the fetish 
 marks of some barbarian religious rites, 
 which imparted a hideous cast to the counte- 
 nance. 
 
 Both were given workhouse sentences. 
 Handcuffed to his terrifying cellmate, Fuller 
 was driven through the streets to the Island 
 ferry. Business was good in the court that 
 day, and the "Black Maria" was crowded, 
 and the ill-assorted pair occupied an outside 
 seat. Children ran alongside the prison van 
 to jeer at the unusual spectacle of a white 
 man chained to a Negro. His eye, from the 
 evening fight, had turned black. God! that 
 human lives should be so cheap that the rum 
 traffic can barter in them thus! 
 
 At the workhouse the two were assigned to 
 a cell with two other Negroes. The "Dr." did 
 not look as though he could do any manual 
 labor worth while in the workhouse, and he 
 was ordered to take care of the cell he occu- 
 pied with the Negroes. He made their beds, 
 and his own, swept the floor and mopped it, 
 and performed the other chores. He was 
 made, in the prison terms, "valet and bed- 
 maker" to the Negroes. 
 
 Two weeks after his release from the work- 
 house he entered a mission, much to his own 
 
A WORKHOUSE VALET 177 
 
 wonderment. He was tired and hoped to rest, 
 unmolested by the police. What he heard 
 set him to thinking. Men told of their own 
 salvation, but he could not believe it was all 
 true. His theological training either had not 
 taught him that "the blood of Jesus Christ 
 cleanseth from all sin/' or he had not grasped 
 the sin of drinking. Why will not men see 
 that intemperance is not a "failing," not a 
 "weakness," but SIN? 
 
 Reluctantly he went to the altar under the 
 persuasion of the mission superintendent and 
 for the first time in ten years felt that he did 
 not need to take a drink. And, as it dawned 
 upon him that he was free from the curse of 
 drink, he marveled that he had not thought 
 to seek this source of power before. 
 
 The following Sunday afternoon came a 
 test of his sincerity and of the depth of his 
 professed conversion. As he sat with other 
 converts in the mission, to his amazement 
 three ministers entered who had been his 
 classmates at the theological seminary. What 
 should he do? He knew he would not be recog- 
 nized if he sat still; he could escape a pos- 
 sible meeting by leaving the place; his inner 
 self told him to stand by his guns and trust 
 the Lord. 
 
 Trembling with suppressed emotion, at the 
 
178 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 proper time he arose and told in simple 
 phrases the story of his downfall and the old, 
 old story of redemption. Watchful men and 
 women who had seen his agitation, and half 
 guessed the reason, were praying that God 
 would give him grace to arise; now they 
 prayed that the Holy Spirit would touch his 
 tongue. 
 
 His story was brief, yet it disclosed the en- 
 tire gamut of a sinful life, of a new birth, 
 of new hopes, and, as it came in measured 
 phrases, it thrilled the audience. His class- 
 mates recognized, after the first sentence, the 
 wreck of the theological student and preacher ; 
 but they saw something more — the new life 
 come to the repentant sinner — and after the 
 service they pressed forward to encourage him 
 and welcome him back into the fold. 
 
 Four years later his church restored him 
 to the ministry. He would not return save 
 as a probationer, and served his year as such, 
 and then was ordained as though he had never 
 been in a pulpit. In a little time he was in- 
 stalled as pastor of a metropolitan church, 
 and with success has ministered unto the con- 
 gregation. 
 
 The interim had brought a complete res- 
 toration of all his powers. In the first year he 
 was invited to preach in Old John Street, 
 
A WORKHOUSE VALET 179 
 
 "Mother Church of American Methodism," of 
 which he was an attendant; he lectured and 
 preached elsewhere, went out to tell the story 
 of his conversion in behalf of the missions, and 
 conducted a Bible class of redeemed drunk- 
 ards and crooks, several of whom were in- 
 spired to enter missionary work under his 
 teaching. A little later a philanthropist 
 placed him in charge of a charitable institu- 
 tion which seeks to help unfortunate men 
 until they can find work. Into this he put the 
 experience gained in his ten years of wander- 
 ing. 
 
 Some time later he was invited to become 
 the State head of an agency which is fighting 
 the saloons and in this field finds his "down 
 and out" experiences helpful. 
 
 No trace remains of his fallen estate. The 
 power which removed the appetite for alcohol 
 made the change complete. One crowning joy 
 remained for him. Invited to the city whence 
 he had fled by a merchant prince whose name 
 also is known everywhere as a Prince of the 
 Kingdom, he was surprised to see a large 
 delegation from his former church, whose 
 pastorate he had resigned, and among the 
 two thousand to whom he administered the 
 sacrament of the Lord's Supper on that day 
 there were many of his former parishioners. 
 
180 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 He has since preached in the old church and 
 was given a reception such as few pastors re- 
 ceive. 
 
 Yet the proudest moment in his life — the 
 sacredest — is that when, kneeling in the mis- 
 sion with other forlorn men, he learned the 
 meaning of the old hymn: 
 
 Amazing grace! 'Tis heaven below 
 
 To feel the blood applied — 
 And Jesus, only Jesus, know, 
 
 My Jesus, crucified. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Rebel, Then Regular 
 
 "Is this one of the regulars?" 
 
 The questioner, superintendent of a rescue 
 mission, placed his hand upon a ragged and 
 bleary sleeper in a rear seat. He had not rec- 
 ognized the man and the janitor declared him 
 to be a newcomer. The man had been awak- 
 ened by the incident and the meeting was about 
 to start. Having heard the question, he won- 
 dered what a "regular" might be. At any 
 rate, he thought, there is nothing regular 
 about me; I must be a rebel. 
 
 It was a long path which led this man off 
 from Sunday school and the kindly influences 
 of a Christian home. Not so far measured by 
 feet and inches, for the old church was less 
 than a mile away; but the life trail had been 
 tortuous. 
 
 His parents had been members of Meth- 
 odism's mother church on the continent. 
 Mother's boy had been taught to pray when 
 he went to bed and he had memories, even 
 more remote, of being rocked to sleep to the 
 hymn, "O happy day, that fixed my choice." 
 Many times mother's voice had been heard in 
 
 181 
 
182 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 prayer that God would save her darling boy; 
 how could heaven refuse the petition of faith? 
 Yet for many long years hope died out for the 
 boy, grown into manhood, and none of his 
 loved ones believed that mother's prayer ever 
 would be answered. 
 
 Mother took the boy to Sunday school with 
 his penny for the plate, while she attended 
 the class meeting. Perhaps she dreamed a 
 little of the day when her boy would grow up 
 and in God's providence be made leader of 
 that class. Well, mother's dreams sometimes 
 come true. The boy later was leader of the 
 class for a number of years, and it should be 
 known that in this church the class meeting 
 is not thought old-fashioned, and is attended 
 usually by as many as are able to crowd into 
 the room. 
 
 Mother did not dream of the sin and sorrow 
 and suffering which were in store before that 
 vision should be fulfilled; she was spared the 
 agony of soul that such foreknowledge would 
 have brought to her. She died before Sin 
 entered. Her boy, not yet on the threshold of 
 manhood, without the loving restraint and 
 care of the mother, was left to his own devices 
 by the father, who did not linger long after 
 mother went, and grew fond of the theater, 
 the dance, the city picnic or outing, and other 
 
REBEL, THEN REGULAR 183 
 
 worldly attractions. School became irksome 
 and he went to work for a banking house. 
 In eight years he had gained the confidence of 
 his employers and had a splendid position, but 
 he had become infatuated with the race track 
 also. Violating every trust reposed in him, 
 he robbed his employers to play the races, 
 pawned everything he could lay his hands 
 upon for the same purpose, and lived only for 
 the excitement of gambling. 
 
 At the race track he learned to drink — to 
 look upon the ability to drink a certain 
 amount of whisky as an evidence of manli- 
 ness. It became a fixed habit. His excesses 
 caused his friends alarm, but expostulation 
 was unavailing. When he lost his job they 
 helped him get another, and then several 
 others. He was aided in every other way pos- 
 sible, but at last the family was forced to 
 abandon him with the remark, "He is no 
 good." He was now in rebellion against his 
 family, the Sunday school, and the whole 
 world. 
 
 One night, when he was drinking in a gilded 
 cafe, the bartender saw that rum had its hold 
 upon young Miller and cautioned him: "If 
 you stick to that stuff, young man, you will 
 come to rags ; better take my advice and quit 
 while you can." 
 
184 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 Believe it, dear reader, that all agents of the 
 devil in the sale of liquid damnation are not 
 soulless. Down in their hearts, beyond all 
 peradventure, many, many of them are sorry 
 to see a young man become a drunkard. They 
 may conceal this for business reasons, but 
 it is there. Men who frequent the saloons 
 often hear the bartender advise customers to 
 "go slow" and others to quit absolutely; have 
 seen them refuse to sell, telling the youth 
 they would not be a party to his inevitable 
 downfall. 
 
 Miller laughed at his adviser, just as thou- 
 sands of young and "wise" men do to-day. He 
 never forgot it, however. 
 
 From that time the downward pace was 
 more rapid, and at the end of ten years of 
 drinking the bottom was reached. Home was 
 broken up long before, and money and posi- 
 tion gone, and Miller became a wanderer and 
 outcast. Of this period of his life he says : 
 
 "Often I wondered why I was born to such 
 a hell upon earth; wondered why God did 
 not remove me. I was dead in all but the 
 physical and longed for release from existence. 
 Slinking about in unfrequented parts of the 
 parks or water front, I avoided those who 
 had once been my friends. By day I wished 
 it were night to draw a mantle about me; by 
 
REBEL, THEN REGULAR 185 
 
 night I wished for the light to drive away 
 the fears which were upon me. Hungry, tired, 
 homeless, and hopeless, I could see no chance 
 of ever getting away from that kind of a life. 
 Remorse and anguish filled me when my senses 
 were not steeped in alcohol. 
 
 "Sometimes I wandered into a mission to 
 sleep, where a policeman would not drive me 
 out. I heard men tell of salvation, but it 
 made little impression. I wanted to be sober, 
 but I could not imagine anyone being happy 
 in the Christian life, and I was not ready to 
 give up the world, not knowing that in the 
 former true happiness and peace is to be found, 
 and there alone. 
 
 "I became more hardened and reckless and 
 did not hesitate at anything to get money to 
 buy whisky. If the police had caught me I 
 might have been sent away for a long term 
 of years, but the only charge I ever had to 
 answer was drunkenness, thank God. 
 
 "One night I was discharged for drunken- 
 ness and dishonesty — a polite way of saying 
 that I was a thief. That night I spent in a 
 saloon playing cards, and at daybreak I was 
 stone broke. I commenced to drown my sor- 
 row in whisky and succeeded so well that I 
 slept off two drunks that Sunday. I do not 
 remember anything from the middle of the 
 
186 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 afternoon until I was awakened in the mis- 
 sion. I do not know where I had been in the 
 meantime, but that night I ended my rebel- 
 lion and became a 'regular.' " 
 
 When Miller started up, as he was awak- 
 ened, his forlorn appearance moved the mis- 
 sionary; his eyes sought the man again and 
 again during the evening. Strangely the waif 
 did not go to sleep again. God had a vision 
 prepared for him, and, if necessary, legions 
 of angels would have been sent to prop open 
 the eyelids lest he fail to see it. 
 
 There were songs, and many of them 
 brought reminders of the old church, and then 
 there were stories of salvation — fresh chapters 
 of the gospel story, told by the subjects of 
 miraculous deliverance. It seemed to sober 
 up Miller, for over and over again he heard 
 his own life story. Men who had been in his 
 present condition told how they had been 
 saved, were happy and prosperous as Chris- 
 tians, and said that Jesus was ready to do 
 the same thing for any man. The vision had 
 appeared — a vision in which Jesus and mother 
 were seen pleading for the boy, and at last he 
 yielded. 
 
 At the close of the meeting the missionary 
 looked straight at Miller as he said that it was 
 on a Sunday evening that he had been born 
 
REBEL, THEN REGULAR 187 
 
 again, and he wondered if anyone in the room 
 wished for the same thing — to live a Chris- 
 tian life and start for heaven that Sabbath 
 night. He invited such to stand up. 
 
 Miller sprang up, eager to end his old life. 
 With ten others he went forward, but when 
 he knelt he knew not what to say or do. 
 He was dazed by the debauch and by the reve- 
 lations of the stories and the hope which had 
 come to him, and prayer would not form. 
 Prompted by the missionary, he prayed, "God 
 be merciful to a sinner, for Jesus' sake," and 
 over him came the consciousness that his pe- 
 tition had been heard at the Throne, and in 
 the after testimonies said that he believed 
 he had been saved. 
 
 The fact that everyone wanted to greet and 
 congratulate him on his salvation was another 
 revelation to the man who scarcely had re- 
 ceived a kind word in years. A dear woman 
 won him by a gentleness that brought mem- 
 ories of mother, and he got a foretaste of the 
 joy of salvation. 
 
 "If this is Christianity, why didn't I know 
 it before?" he said to himself. "Why didn't 
 some one tell me about it?" 
 
 The next morning he awoke without crav- 
 ing a drink of whisky. It was so strange a sen- 
 sation that he said to himself that he really 
 
188 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 must be saved. He had been planning to 
 leave for the West to hide himself from his 
 relatives; now he wanted to go and tell them 
 what had happened. 
 
 He was not yet "cleansed from all un- 
 righteousness," and in the interval of a year 
 or two had several battles with the adversary, 
 being worsted through drink; but he could 
 not keep away from his Saviour. God had 
 set his seal upon him and one day he fell in 
 love with Jesus. Since then the devil has 
 lost dominion over the dear brother, whose 
 life is a benediction to all so fortunate as to 
 know him. 
 
 Eight weeks after his first experience at 
 the mission Miller obtained employment with 
 a banking house, whose manager stood by him 
 in the days of testing. He became the confi- 
 dential bookkeeper and trusted employee in 
 the course of time, and for many years has 
 prospered. 
 
 He united very soon with the Methodist 
 church he had attended as a boy and became 
 one of its officers. The happiest days of his 
 boyhood were spent in the old church; now 
 he is living them all over again, to his great 
 joy. His mother must have been a gentle 
 woman, for a sweeter type of Christian 
 than Miller is seldom met. His humility and 
 
REBEL, THEN REGULAR 189 
 
 his love — especially for a fallen brother — are 
 like those of the Master whom he loves. 
 
 He has led many precious souls back to the 
 Saviour and, though years have passed since 
 he entered the mission, he is a regular attend- 
 ant, always praising God a for saving him 
 from whisky, tobacco, and everything else 
 that is wicked and bad." The seed sown in 
 his life has brought forth more than a hun- 
 dredfold and the harvest is not yet ended. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 Arrows and Stripes 
 
 He came for the cup of coffee and sand- 
 wich — and got them — and not for the spiritual 
 refreshment — though he also got that. He 
 had been sleeping in the parks, from choice, 
 that he might have more money to spend in 
 the saloon. He was working, but the bar- 
 tender got all his wages; indeed, his chief 
 reason for working was that he might satiate 
 his thirst, for he was dry always. Another 
 reason was that as a furniture mover he might 
 be able to get into people's houses without 
 breaking in doors or windows. 
 
 Henry had been a thief by profession — had 
 deliberately chosen it in preference to the hon- 
 est trade of a bookbinder, at which his father 
 bound him as an apprentice. He came from 
 the shadow of Saint Paul's, London, his home 
 being toward the Whitechapel district, and 
 he chose the leadings of the latter rather 
 than the training of parents who were true 
 worshipers. All about him in the home were 
 influences which ought to have saved him from 
 the awful life into which he plunged head- 
 long because he thought it was easy. How 
 
 190 
 
ARROWS AND STRIPES 191 
 
 many think a life of sin is easy, because the 
 beginning generally is, and awake one day to 
 a realization of its slavery and the fact that 
 they have had to work hard for the Evil One. 
 
 The schools claimed him until he was old 
 enough to go to work under the English law; 
 then his father took him to the bindery and 
 apprenticed him to learn the trade of a jour- 
 neyman binder. He was bright and quick, 
 learned rapidly, and was a favorite with his 
 employers and fellow workmen. He might 
 have become a master binder in time, for the 
 father was able to set him up well in business 
 had he so desired. 
 
 Before he had finished his apprenticeship 
 he fell among bad companions and into evil 
 ways. As he began to get a little pocket 
 money over the sum he paid into the family 
 treasury for board, he felt that he must put 
 in his evenings away from home. Any place 
 away from father and mother is bad for a 
 youth, but when that place is a den where 
 thieves congregate, it becomes a true portal 
 of hell for him. 
 
 Hearing his associates boast of the easy 
 way in which they made money, he marveled. 
 They told him that they could go out any night 
 and make a good haul, and they showed him 
 from time to time the "roll" of easy money 
 
192 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 thus acquired. They told him, too, that he 
 was a fool to work, when it was so easy to 
 live without working. So he joined them. 
 Burglaries, holdups— garroting and knocking 
 men down for their valuables — and other 
 crimes were committed; he still held his ap- 
 prenticeship, but that was only for a blind 
 and that the parents might not learn of his 
 other "business." 
 
 Often he came home late and was wept and 
 prayed over by the mother, who saw that he 
 had changed for the worse and who knew that 
 he was drinking and frequenting evil resorts. 
 One night the police caught him redhanded 
 and locked him up. Henry sent word home 
 and his mother came to see him in his cell. 
 She wept and prayed for her boy to no avail. 
 When she offered to get him a good lawyer 
 and spend money to get him free from the 
 charge, Henry spurned her offer; she might 
 pray for him, but he did not want her money 
 and did not want her lawyer. He told her he 
 had gotten into the scrape himself and would 
 get out of it himself. 
 
 He actually thought he would be able to 
 talk himself out of court when the trial came. 
 He was the most surprised man in the court 
 room when the judge, rejecting his defense 
 altogether, sentenced him to prison. In a few 
 
ARROWS AND STRIPES 193 
 
 days he occupied a little room all by himself 
 in a State institution, his cot a plank with 
 the pillow nailed fast to it and no softer than 
 the plank. His clothing bore upon it the 
 "Broad Arrow," famous as the English prison 
 trademark. 
 
 When he was released he went home. His 
 mother pleaded with him to break away from 
 his evil associations and be warned by the 
 lesson he had received, advising him to go 
 back and finish his trade. Henry told her 
 that only fools worked and he did not propose 
 to be a fool. He went back to his evil life 
 instead of to the bindery. 
 
 This was kept up for a number of years 
 until he had become so disreputable that the 
 family felt the disgrace and the odium cast 
 upon them. A family consultation was held, 
 when the ultimatum was delivered that Henry 
 must go away from home. 
 
 "We will give you money to pay your pas- 
 sage to America and enough to last you there 
 until you get a start," they told him. "You 
 have relatives there who will help you." 
 
 He bade his mother good-by and sailed with 
 her blessing and advice to change his mode 
 of living. He cared little for either. When 
 he landed in America, a stranger in a city al- 
 most as large as the one he left, the only 
 
194 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 guide posts he knew were the beer signs, and 
 he followed them. They led him into Hell's 
 Kitchen. There he met the same kind of com- 
 panions he had left across the sea, and they 
 told him there was plenty of "easy graft" in 
 the city. 
 
 He lived with a relative for a time, until 
 failure to get work or pay board brought the 
 suggestion that he hustle for a job. He got 
 mad and quit the house and never lived with 
 the relatives after that. Though he flourished 
 on crime for a time, in the end the police got 
 him in the act and a trip "up the river" fol- 
 lowed. He returned after serving his "bit" 
 and continued his lawlessness and again and 
 again was sent away for a rest at the State's 
 expense. In this way he earned his "stripes." 
 
 Then some one told him how to evade the 
 police. This was to be accomplished by se- 
 curing a job as a furniture-mover. It sounded 
 like real work, but he was tired of the board 
 served at the prison, and he found a place 
 with an owner of vans. His companions were 
 men who had as unsavory reputations as him- 
 self, and when not moving some one the chief 
 diversion was "rushing the can," slang for 
 sending a tin pail to the saloon for beer. 
 
 When several of them were sent out with a 
 van to move a household, opportunities for 
 
ARROWS AND STRIPES 195 
 
 thievery came often. The men "moved" many 
 things which were never again seen by the 
 owners; they were enabled to get the lay of 
 houses where there were many valuables, and 
 got a share of the loot secured by others, if 
 the "job" was not undertaken by the van's 
 gang. 
 
 Every cent gained in this way, whether as 
 wages or "graft," went to the saloon. Often, 
 he says, he would not spend even fifteen cents 
 for lodging, for fear that he would not be able 
 to buy a drink in the morning. He was in 
 blue shirt, jumper, and overalls, with a winter 
 cap, when he came to the mission to get a sand- 
 wich and coffee. He heard the superintend- 
 ent say that he had been a thief and highway- 
 man and a drunkard before he was converted. 
 He heard other men tell tales of broken and 
 misspent lives, made entirely over through 
 salvation. 
 
 Sin had palled on Henry. Long before he 
 was willing to confess that he did not know 
 quite so much as he thought he did when he 
 started the evil life. Prison had broken his 
 nerve also, and he wanted no more of it. He 
 was ready for the message, and when the in- 
 vitation was given he was ready for that, and 
 went forward. 
 
 He went back to the furniture van next day 
 
196 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 and speedily forgot that he was going to live 
 differently. Five times he was led back to 
 the mission, however, and one night came to 
 the realization that he must cut loose from 
 his job, so long associated with wrongdoing. 
 Once more he confessed his sins and declared 
 openly his purpose to leave everything be- 
 longing to the past. Surprisingly soon he had 
 another job in a factory, which he still holds. 
 
 The old mother, left on the other side of the 
 ocean, had not heard from her erring son since 
 the day she bade him good-by and gave him 
 her blessing as he was about to sail. He 
 always was "too busy" to write, even when 
 behind prison bars. The mother had heard 
 of the boy in a roundabout manner, from the 
 relatives, but the letters were not calculated 
 to cheer her heart. 
 
 One thing which impressed him at the mis- 
 sion had been the query on the wall, "How 
 Long Since You Wrote to Mother?" It had 
 been more than ten years and he made up 
 his mind to write. He called on the relative 
 to learn the London address, which had been 
 changed. Before he could ask he was startled 
 with the news that he never could write her 
 again ; that she had passed to her reward, still 
 praying for her boy. 
 
 Years have passed since Henry turned from 
 
ARROWS AND STRIPES 197 
 
 his sinful ways. He has found that it pays 
 to live right. He has a home of his own, is 
 prosperous, with a bank account, and has 
 found that the path he once thought too nar- 
 row for him to travel is broad enough now, 
 since he walks straight, not crooked. He is 
 constantly telling other men how, though he 
 once wore the "Broad Arrow" in England 
 and the stripes on this continent, his distin- 
 guishing badge now is a white cross on a red 
 shield; that instead of helping himself to 
 other men's possessions he is able to help the 
 needy in conformity with Paul's admonition: 
 "Let him that stole steal no more; but rather 
 let him labor, working with his hands the 
 thing that is good, that he may have whereof 
 to give to him that hath need." 
 
 In the early days of his Christian life it was 
 a problem with him whether he would be able 
 to lead the pure life, until one of the leaders 
 repeated an admonition of the late Mr. Had- 
 ley to young converts : 
 
 "If you are saved, tell it. Tell it as often 
 as you can get anyone to listen to you. After 
 awhile maybe you will believe it yourself." 
 
 Henry saw that the speaker meant that 
 reiteration would bring to him the witness to 
 a full grasp of salvation; he began testifying 
 everywhere, and found it to be as recom- 
 
198 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 mended. He has grown into a knowledge of 
 his redemption that no man can take from 
 him, for, as he told the story, it dawned upon 
 him by degrees that the words he was say- 
 ing were true; that he no longer wanted to 
 drink and steal. Then it became a joy to 
 bear witness on a street corner, in a mission 
 or a church — anywhere he could get the 
 chance. They call him an evangelist now, 
 because of his earnestness and constant work, 
 and his old companions marvel at the trans- 
 formation of the furniture-mover. 
 
 Is it not wonderful, strange and so wonderful, 
 
 Jesus so gracious should be? 
 Yes, it is wonderful, marvelous, wonderful, 
 
 That he should save even me. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 A Matter of Politics 
 
 "My good man, pray ; if you don't know any 
 other prayer, pray the prayer of the publican. 
 
 "I'm no Kepublican, I'm a Democrat." 
 
 This was Ben's beginning as an evangelist. 
 Unpromising, he seemed, from every point of 
 view, on that night when he came. He was 
 so ignorant of the Bible that he did not know 
 what publican meant ; he was drunk and ready 
 for the hospital, and it seemed improbable 
 that a permanent work of grace should be 
 done in his heart. 
 
 He had been born in the shadow of the mis- 
 sion, on Cherry Hill. As a lad, in the early 
 days of the mission hall, he had stoned the 
 windows, pulled off clapboards and tried to 
 break up the meetings. His father and mother 
 were respectable tradespeople of the section, 
 but they had no influence over Ben, who was 
 brought up in the streets and was with a 
 tough gang from babyhood. The Cherry Hill 
 gang was the terror of the police ; some of the 
 oldtimers shiver when they hear the name now. 
 
 Ben would not go to school or do anything 
 else the parents desired him to do, through 
 
 199 
 
200 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 stubbornness, for he wanted to have his own 
 way and do as he pleased. Little wonder that 
 he grew up to be a thief and drunkard. The 
 gang swarmed over on to adjoining sections 
 of the city, Ben being among the migratory 
 branch. He wanted to go where there was 
 more money to be had. 
 
 With such ideas and his drunkenness it 
 was to be expected that he would be in con- 
 stant conflict with the police. He was ar- 
 rested many times in the twenty-two years 
 he was a leader of a gang of crooks which had 
 its meeting place at a corner dive on the Bow- 
 ery. He was in jail many times during this 
 period of his life. The police had him marked 
 as a bad man; when they saw him coming 
 they looked for trouble, and, if it came, 
 clubbed him into submission. 
 
 He was warned by the policemen many 
 times to keep off the Bowery. Several precincts 
 center about the corner where the gang met, 
 which was precisely why they met there. It 
 was so easy to slip over into another precinct 
 when there was trouble. But the police of 
 all four precincts united in the warning. So, 
 when Ben wanted to go down the street — 
 which he did about every time he attained a 
 fighting load of whisky — you could see him 
 in the middle of the street, careening along like 
 
A MATTER OF POLITICS 201 
 
 a ship laboring in rough seas, howling his de- 
 fiance to the police and everybody else. 
 
 When, finally, it was either move or go 
 to jail indefinitely, Ben left for other fields. 
 From New York to San Francisco not a city 
 of consequence but has some reason to remem- 
 ber his presence there, though not all his 
 victims knew the culprit. Always on the go, 
 marauding and living off his stealings, he 
 was an awful example of the perversion of 
 man; he was a thoroughly "bad man." 
 
 Even to a crook there comes a time when 
 he longs for the old familiar scenes of youth. 
 "Home, sweet home," with the memories of 
 mother, and of companions and the happy 
 time before sin entered into the heart, have 
 a lure which draws the crook back. So it 
 was with Ben. He longed for a sight of his 
 native city and some of his old pals. He 
 had no thought of changing his mode of life, 
 but supposed most of the old policemen would 
 have been shifted to other sections and the 
 rest would have forgotten him. 
 
 When he reached the city he sought his old 
 companions and started in again on crooked 
 work. Among other things he held up a man, 
 took his roll of thirty dollars, and had what 
 he called "a royal good time." When the 
 money was all gone he was in bad shape, sick 
 
202 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 from the debauch. He met an old friend and 
 stopped to talk over former days. To his 
 surprise, the friend confessed to being broke 
 and said he was going to a mission where they 
 gave men sandwiches and coffee. It was in 
 Ben's mind to boot the man for inviting him 
 to go to a mission; what he wanted was 
 whisky, not coffee; but he was too sick to 
 carry out his thought. 
 
 The friend started for his coffee, however, 
 and though he never could tell why he did it, 
 Ben followed along the familiar way, back 
 to the place where he had played as a boy 
 and stoned as a youth. He had never found 
 out that they served coffee and sandwiches at 
 the mission in those days. 
 
 Ben was just sober enough to be sensible 
 of what was going on around him. A man 
 sent of God and whose name was John was 
 on the platform that night. He was deaf, and 
 on the pulpit was a small box with a cord 
 leading to an earpiece. Ben thought it was 
 a telephone when he saw it. 
 
 The leader told what seemed to Ben a won- 
 derful story. The man had been a gambler 
 and a drunkard, which together robbed him of 
 family and business and made him an outcast, 
 without the least idea that there was a means 
 of getting out of all his difficulties. He told the 
 
A MATTER OF POLITICS 203 
 
 whole story of his excesses and how he had 
 tried to beat everybody, had to leave the city 
 until the troubles blew over, had come back 
 and was dodging the police, when he drifted 
 into a meeting place and heard that God 
 would take away all the past and give him a 
 new start. 
 
 He said he had prayed to God that day to 
 give his wife a new husband and his children 
 a father; that God had heard his prayer 
 and brought him out into a new life, pros- 
 pered him, and brought him down where he 
 could tell the other fellow how to find what 
 he had found. 
 
 To Ben this was amazing. Before it was 
 through he jumped up and called out: 
 
 "Tell that guy with the telephone to send 
 word to heaven that I am coming," and he 
 marched down the aisle. From a seat near 
 the platform he heard a score or more of men 
 tell other stories of salvation for the lost man, 
 and when the invitation was given he knelt 
 with several men at the altar. 
 
 When the prayer of the publican had been 
 explained to him, he hesitated, but finally 
 cried out: "God be merciful to me a sinner, 
 for Jesus' sake." At this the floodgates of 
 his heart broke and he sobbed out his sorrow 
 for the soul guilt. He had not shed a tear 
 
204 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 since he was a child. But He who can read 
 all hearts looked down in this poor soul and 
 touched it and healed it in loving-kindness. 
 He whom they thought too tough a case had 
 come face to face with his Saviour, and the 
 case was not too tough for him. 
 
 Several weeks passed before Ben really felt 
 sure of himself. He knew he had not wanted 
 to drink from the moment he knelt and began 
 to cry to God for help, but he was ignorant 
 and helpless and thought he could not win 
 out against such odds. He had not learned 
 yet that God could supply all his needs. 
 
 One of his great burdens was that he could 
 not read the Bible. He attended a Bible class 
 regularly and committed to memory many 
 helpful verses; these only made him long the 
 more to delve into the treasures of the book. 
 But his education had been more of the street 
 than the schoolroom; what he had learned in 
 the latter he had forgotten. In the prisons 
 they do not encourage reading and long dis- 
 use of the faculty, which never had been well- 
 developed, had taken from him all his knowl- 
 edge of words on the printed page. He sought 
 diligently to learn, with the aid of those about 
 the mission, but despaired of ever being able 
 to read. One night a teacher expounded a chap- 
 ter and Ben declared that he must read that. 
 
A MATTER OP POLITICS 205 
 
 A comrade found the place for hini after he 
 returned to the mission and Ben began to puz- 
 zle over it; after a long struggle and with a 
 little help he finished the chapter. So great 
 was his joy that it seemed a miracle to him, 
 and he is fond of telling how "God taught me 
 to read." 
 
 Falling in love with the book, Ben studied 
 it constantly; before he had been converted 
 a year he was enrolled in a Bible school, where 
 he studied on certain nights during the school 
 year. Then a way was opened whereby he 
 might begin a course of study and practical 
 work to fit him for evangelistic work among 
 the men with whom he had once associated. 
 The school is located in a Western city, which 
 once was the scene of many of his exploits, and 
 from pulpit and platform many times he has 
 told of the change which has come over him, 
 sometimes recognizing old pals in his audi- 
 ences. 
 
 And, while Ben is carrying the message of 
 hope directly to many men and seeing large 
 numbers turn to God through his efforts, in an 
 indirect way he is influencing many thousands 
 of others, for his conversion has taught all 
 Christian workers who know of him that no one 
 is ever too low for salvation and many a seem- 
 ingly hopeless case is yearned over, fished for, 
 
206 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 and, thank God! in many instances won for 
 the kingdom by the persistence inspired by the 
 salvation of Ben. 
 
 He has attended a number of conferences 
 of missionaries and Christian workers, and 
 his addresses, mainly the story of his conver- 
 sion, bring tears and smiles alternately., and 
 spur those who listen to renewed effort for 
 the lost. 
 
 No one knows what became of the man who 
 invited Ben to the place where coffee and sand- 
 wiches were served to hungry men. Doubt- 
 less he was filled and went away less starved 
 than when he came. But there is no question 
 about Ben. Not only did he satisfy bodily 
 hunger, but the Bread of Heaven came down 
 to satisfy his hungry soul. 
 
 He who stoned the mission has become one 
 of its chief corner stones ; he who once brought 
 trouble wherever he went, now is an evangel 
 of peace; instead of being warned away by 
 the police, they are glad to see the change 
 and tell him so. Every time he walks through 
 one of his old haunts, without uttering a word 
 he preaches a more powerful sermon than 
 most pastors can prepare; and if men would 
 not believe the utterances of the preacher, they 
 have no argument against Ben's life before 
 them, and believe for the very work's sake. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 Barroom to Bank 
 
 Rayner had been handicapped in early life 
 and there was less wonder that he drifted 
 down the wrong course and had wound up in 
 the very swirl of the maelstrom of drink. 
 The wonder was that he had ever been rescued 
 from its grip of death, which had fastened 
 upon him. 
 
 He had been apprenticed to a printer by 
 his father when but a youth. Before he 
 learned the trade his father changed his mind 
 and took him from the shop and put him 
 behind the bar of a family hotel, or boarding 
 house, with saloon attachment, which a friend 
 of the father conducted, and the two worked 
 side by side. The father drank, but young Ray- 
 ner, even while in the midst of it, kept free 
 from it; drink amid such surroundings as 
 were present was very repulsive. He loathed 
 a drunkard and had no use for the stuff which 
 made men drunkards. 
 
 This was why he resolved to get away from 
 the saloon and find more congenial daily com- 
 panions. His former employer, the printer, 
 had been fond of the boy, and a hint that the 
 
 207 
 
208 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 latter was ready to come back to the shop 
 brought a hearty invitation to start in again. 
 So he learned his trade, after all, and for thir- 
 teen years continued in the man's employ. 
 
 With other young companions Eayner joined 
 a local militia company for the social life it 
 afforded. Though he had once declared that 
 he would never drink the stuff which made 
 fools of men, at twenty-seven the social call 
 induced him to abandon his resolve and in a 
 purely social way he began to take an occa- 
 sional drink because others did it. He did not 
 care for the drink for itself. 
 
 Eayner went into business for himself sev- 
 eral years later, but drink and cards obtained 
 such a hold upon him, and were so dominant 
 in his life, that his partner at last announced 
 that Eayner must either buy or sell. He sold 
 and went to work for a lithographing com- 
 pany in another city, as superintendent, at 
 one hundred dollars a week. He did not stop 
 drinking, but tried to be respectable about it. 
 There were periodical lapses, and then one 
 day he awoke in a hotel on the Pacific Coast 
 after a debauch and had to inquire where he 
 was. 
 
 His advertisement for work in a trade 
 journal was recognized by the firm he had 
 left and he was telegraphed money with which 
 
BARROOM TO BANK 209 
 
 to return and was put on his feet again. For 
 three years he held out; then came another 
 spree and he quit. He never held a job long 
 after that. Like many another, he would work 
 until he had a little money and then proceed 
 to spend it in drinking, until finally no one 
 who knew his reputation would hire him, and 
 those who did not know found out speedily. 
 
 He had come to the great city where the mul- 
 titude of printing shops made it easier to earn, 
 by a day or two of labor, enough to keep him 
 in drink the other days. He lived in a lodg- 
 ing house and dined on free lunch or at the 
 cheap restaurants when he had money; at 
 other times he stopped in a park, or, in cold 
 weather, in some all-night saloon. 
 
 Back in his prosperous days he had married 
 a lovely woman of his home town, but she 
 had been left by Rayner over and over when 
 on a spree; she scarcely would have known 
 him in his condition at this period, and she 
 did not know where he was. He got so he 
 could not work and then he went to live in 
 the back room of a saloon; that is, he slept 
 there and subsisted on the drinks and free 
 lunch when he could raise the price, or when 
 some generous person shared with him. 
 Often, however, he did not have the nickel 
 necessary to insure him a chair in the back 
 
210 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 room at one o'clock in the morning, when the 
 doors were locked and had to pass out into 
 the night and seek shelter elsewhere. 
 
 Early one Sunday morning, after such a 
 night, he had gone back to the saloon at six 
 o'clock, when the side door was opened, hop- 
 ing that he would find some kindly disposed 
 person there who would take pity on him and 
 buy the drink he craved. Eayner had spent 
 many dollars there and felt that he had some 
 right to hang around until better days came; 
 worse could not come to him. As he entered 
 the door and went down the dark hall to 
 the inner door, he was but half way within 
 when a hand was laid on his shoulder, accom- 
 panied by the declaration: "Now, old man, 
 I don't want you here any more. You are a 
 disgrace to the place." 
 
 Eayner was not old, even by the Osier scale, 
 but he was so beaten and battered by sin that 
 he looked like an old man and by reason of his 
 life he felt like one. He was dirty and un- 
 kempt, his clothing consisted of an under- 
 shirt and a pair of overalls, relievers from a 
 slop shop, where his other clothing, includ- 
 ing shirt and suspenders, had been sold for 
 a few pennies so that he might buy drink. 
 His shoes were tied on with cords, to complete 
 the dilapidation, and another cord served as 
 
BARROOM TO BANK 211 
 
 belt to keep trousers and undershirt from 
 parting company. 
 
 The saloon man was too wise to use violence 
 in ejecting Rayner; he was careful that no 
 harm came to him within his walls; that 
 might attract the attention of the police. But 
 he would not have given a second thought to 
 it if Rayner had dropped in his tracks out on 
 the sidewalk. Rayner looked up at the man, 
 wondering if it could be true that his last 
 hope — his final harbor — was to be taken from 
 him. 
 
 Unsteadily he walked through the dark 
 hallway of the dive and out to the corner, and, 
 as the rays of an October sun filtered down 
 through the lattice work of the elevated rail- 
 road, he asked himself what more there could 
 be in life for him. 
 
 "If I am a disgrace to that place, surely I 
 am to my family/' he argued. "Then there's 
 no use of living. I might as well end my life." 
 
 As he stood against a pillar deliberating 
 what he should do, feeling that he had reached 
 a critical point in his life — his home gone, 
 friends gone, everything worth while gone, 
 hope itself dying within him — he felt that 
 there was no way he could turn out of his 
 dilemma and that life had nothing further left 
 for him. To every question he asked himself, 
 
212 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 the tempter answered with the words which 
 have come to many thousands in their despair : 
 "Go to the river." 
 
 "Well, I will; I'll go down there and finish 
 the job," was the response of the baffled soul, 
 beaten in a fight with the world and its allure- 
 ments — and sin. Lost ! 
 
 Unsteady still, he went, never a doubt in his 
 mind that this was the only possible way of 
 ending a rum-sodden existence, which long 
 had ceased to be living. Quietly, but in ear- 
 nest as never before in his life, he staggered 
 along, thinking of his decision, wondering 
 what the sensation would be and conscious 
 that soon all would be over ; but a few minutes 
 and the world would be rid of an "undesir- 
 able." 
 
 Down the street he moved to where the tide 
 flows swiftly just beyond the end of the coal 
 dock. Had heaven hidden away the watch- 
 man? Was there no hand to stay the passion 
 for suicide? Passion it had become in the 
 half a dozen blocks he had dragged his lagging 
 feet; for, as he shambled along, he had medi- 
 tated : "Yes, you are a disgrace to everybody. 
 You have reached the limit and it is time for 
 you to drop out of sight forever; no one will 
 be the wiser, and the world will be better off 
 without you." 
 
BARROOM TO BANK 213 
 
 There had come also snatches of the past; 
 of its bright boyhood and promising young 
 manhood; of the successes and failures and 
 successes again in maturer years ; of the home 
 and wife and family, who knew not where he 
 was; of his awful, lost condition. Surely the 
 world were better off without such. 
 
 Without interruption he slunk down the 
 dock, wriggled through a gate and paused on 
 the outer edge of the pier. In a moment a 
 few bubbles on the tide would mark the spot 
 where he had sunk and all would be over. 
 This was his thought; but while he hesitated 
 the watchman had detected the intruder, 
 stopped him with a cry of alarm, and ran to 
 the place. Catching the old man by the arm, 
 he remonstrated: "Say, old man, this is no 
 place for you. If my boss found you here I 
 would lose my job." 
 
 Wondering why a poor, forlorn man was 
 denied even the right to die, the old man was 
 hustled off the dock. By impulse he turned 
 back up the street and as he reached a 
 corner noticed the sign of a mission hall. But 
 surely no mission would admit such an one, 
 he said. He knew not that this mission ex- 
 isted for just such men as himself. 
 
 All that Sunday he lounged on a warehouse 
 platform opposite the mission. During the 
 
214 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 afternoon he noticed a large crowd enter the 
 place. Some of them were well attired, some 
 almost as forlorn as himself, but he noticed 
 that nearly all walked with head erect, token 
 of hope and life, and he wished that he might 
 be like them. 
 
 Toward nightfall a sympathetic youth 
 brought him a nickel, saying: "Old man, you 
 look tired out. Buy something to eat or drink 
 and then come back to the mission." 
 
 A drink was bought, but it did not give 
 him courage to enter the mission that night. 
 He walked the streets as he had the night be- 
 fore, sleeping part of the night in a truck 
 which was one of his homes. It was cold and 
 he moved to the steps of a newspaper office, 
 where some heat came up through a grating 
 from the engine room. In the early morning 
 a fireman climbed up a ladder from the 
 depths and handed him a sandwich, remarking 
 that he looked as though he needed it. He 
 marveled that one would be so good to him 
 and wondered if there was not something 
 better for him — some way of escape. He 
 remembered the kind words of the youth who 
 gave him the nickel; here was another who 
 seemed to care about him. 
 
 When daylight came he wandered into the 
 park, but, fearing arrest on account of his 
 
BARROOM TO BANK 215 
 
 condition, he went down to the river again, 
 where he could walk about and forget — if he 
 only could forget ! That night he entered the 
 mission. 
 
 Songs that had been familiar in childhood 
 were sung and Rayner tried to join in. He 
 had been cordially received and felt at home. 
 During the meeting men stood up all about 
 him and told how they had been saved from 
 lives of drunkenness and evil. 
 
 He said to himself: "These men are telling 
 about my life. I wonder if possibly there can 
 be a chance for me." 
 
 Not one of the men but had been in as bad a 
 condition as he was at that moment; they 
 said they had been drunkards and thieves be- 
 fore they came to the mission, and had been 
 converted — by God's grace. If it were true, 
 it was the thing he had been looking for. 
 
 When the invitation was given he went for- 
 ward and knelt and prayed for the first time 
 in twenty years. He asked God to save him 
 if it were not too late. His appeal reached 
 the ear of the Almighty and from that moment 
 all things had become new. When he arose 
 from his knees his load was gone ; he had been 
 born again in a twinkling, becoming a new 
 man in Christ Jesus, and from that instant he 
 has never wanted a drink. He had the con- 
 
216 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 sciousness that never again would he need to 
 go to the back room of the saloon from which 
 he had been thrust, as one who disgraced the 
 dive. 
 
 With a bed ticket — for the mission workers 
 know what it means to get between sheets, 
 even though it be in a lodging house, after 
 nights spent in street or park, with no chance 
 to rid oneself of clothing for a brief period — 
 and with a ticket for a five-cent meal in the 
 morning, the outcast went forth, friendless no 
 longer, since he had found the Friend of 
 friends. There was no mark of change in the 
 outward appearance, but within had flowed 
 the crimson stream which cleanseth the sins 
 of the whole world. A newborn babe of the 
 kingdom went from the mission with an invi- 
 tation to return the next morning, and he was 
 there early. 
 
 Newfound friends helped him on the way to 
 strength and to securing presentable clothing. 
 The following night a trembling testimony told 
 of one day's freedom from rum and sin. 
 
 Very soon he was in the employ of a large 
 printing firm as superintendent, and steadily 
 advanced until he was put in charge of the 
 printing plant of a large corporation, at a 
 high salary. While in this position he helped 
 to organize a national bank in the city where 
 
BARROOM TO BANK 217 
 
 he was employed, and finally was induced to 
 become its president. This was within five 
 years of the time when he entered the mission 
 helpless, hopeless, and undone. 
 
 Rayner had been very active in the affairs 
 of the mission, and had gone about speaking 
 in its behalf, and also wherever he could get 
 a chance to tell drunkards that there was 
 hope for them. He had spoken from the pul- 
 pit of many churches in the city where he 
 lived, telling of his past and urging the church 
 members to help the missions and to reach out 
 for their fallen brothers. His activity was 
 destined to bring to him a severe test. 
 
 When he was elected president of the bank 
 he did not cease his mission work; he was in 
 greater demand than ever. A bank president 
 who had come up from the depths was a 
 novelty. Soon some of the bank directors 
 asked if this were wise, and urged Rayner to 
 cease telling of his past. 
 
 "It will not do the bank any good," said 
 one of them. "People do not understand this 
 matter as we do. We have confidence in you, 
 but now that you are in a place where you are 
 handling other people's money you had better 
 forget the past in favor of the present — and 
 future." 
 
 Rayner did not cease, however, for he felt 
 
218 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 that he owed to his Saviour every spare mo- 
 ment. The friction continued, and then Bay- 
 ner did what they could not force him to do : 
 he had an overpowering majority of the 
 directors with him, had been elected by the 
 stockholders, and so was not amenable 
 to the directors, but lest some one who did 
 not know the power of God might get scary 
 and imperil other depositors, who had in- 
 trusted to his care nearly one million dollars, 
 Eayner resigned. His friends could not un- 
 derstand his voluntary retirement, but when 
 they learned that it was because his new reli- 
 gion had taught him to give in meekly and 
 trust in God, they said, "Now we know beyond 
 all peradventure that his religion is the real 
 thing." 
 
 Kayner at once was made president of a 
 manufacturing concern of large promise, per- 
 haps even larger than the bank, in a financial 
 way, and he still is telling the story. 
 
 Long before this his wife had been restored 
 to him and he had established a home, earned 
 by himself, with its comforts, and it has be- 
 come a center of helpful ministration. 
 
 From sinking sands he lifted me — 
 With tender hands he lifted me — 
 From shades of night to plains of light, 
 O, praise his name, he lifted me. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII 
 Tacks Versus Taxes 
 
 He had walked into a shop to beg a few 
 tacks with which to mend his shoes, for the 
 soles had parted company with the uppers for 
 much of the way around. He was cold and 
 hungry and it goes without saying that he was 
 dry — that condition was perennial. You 
 would have classed him as a hopeless hobo had 
 you seen him sitting in a park in a Canadian 
 city, trying to drive in the tacks with a cob- 
 ble stone for a hammer. 
 
 If he possessed anything worth having, ex- 
 cept life, it was not apparent from his appear- 
 ance. He had a tremendous thirst, it is true, 
 but that was hardly an asset. He had not a 
 friend, not a penny, no home — nothing; there 
 was not even a friendly saloon where he could 
 hang out, for such things are found in Canada 
 only where the "States" idea has been in- 
 troduced. One thing was certain : he had no 
 hope of ever being any better. 
 
 Sandy had come from "within a mile o' 
 Edinboro town," and in his youth and young 
 manhood had been given advantages that 
 others of his age did not have, and when 
 
 219 
 
220 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 school days were over was put in a business 
 which had been in the family a century or 
 more, to which he was expected to succeed 
 when the father should pass on to his reward. 
 His mother was an earnest Christian who 
 strove to have her boy become a shining light 
 in the "auld kirk"; but a shadow came over 
 the young man — he learned to drink. 
 
 Had Sandy been content with an occasional 
 "wee drap," he would have been but little dif- 
 ferent from the majority of his companions, 
 by the custom of the land, but he was not an 
 ordinary young man. He did nothing by 
 halves, even his drinking. The old folks were 
 grieved beyond measure at his waywardness 
 and pleaded with him again and again to let 
 the cursed stuff alone, but, try as he would, 
 he was unable to do so. Eventually he turned 
 a deaf ear to their appeals. He could see no 
 way of doing what they wanted, so what was 
 the use of trying? 
 
 He was continually disgracing his family, 
 and there came a time when they felt it was 
 no longer endurable. 
 
 "If you will go away," they told him, "we 
 will give you enough to start life over in 
 Canada or the States, but we can't have you 
 around here any longer." 
 
 That was why Sandy landed in a city on 
 
TACKS VERSUS TAXES 221 
 
 the Saint Lawrence, several weeks later, well 
 fitted out and with a comfortable roll of 
 money in his pocket. Letters of introduction 
 secured him employment, and for a time he 
 kept straight ; the sea voyage had helped some, 
 and his resolution not to get drunk again 
 was responsible for an effort to do right. 
 But it was not long before Sandy was going 
 a merry pace again, and not much longer be- 
 fore he found that he was not wanted as an 
 employee. The descent to the park was swift. 
 
 As he sat in the park that Sunday after- 
 noon he thought over the past and wondered 
 what the future had in store. He did not care 
 much what did come. He felt that he had lost 
 out. Many thoughts ran through his mind 
 as he labored to bring sole and upper into 
 cordial relations once more, and there came 
 over him a great longing for something he 
 could not have defined. He saw well-dressed 
 men and women walking to church with their 
 children, happy and provided with all they 
 needed, while he was a tramp, needing every- 
 thing and finding nothing. If he only could 
 lead a good life like those he saw — and then, 
 also, if only he could get the price of a drink 
 somewhere. 
 
 In this his attitude was not different from 
 thousands of men who desire to be rid of the 
 
222 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 effects of their sin, but want to continue in 
 the enjoyable part of it, losing only its misery 
 and woe. They are unwilling to give up the 
 pleasures of sin even while deploring the 
 depth into which sin has driven them. 
 
 A missionary once told a great audience of 
 men that a "whole lot of you fellows don't 
 stop drinking because you don't want to. A 
 lot of you, if you thought you were going to 
 be converted and never want another drink, 
 would make a stampede for the door." There 
 is hope for every man who wants deliverance 
 badly enough to pay the price. 
 
 After church was over a young man went 
 through the park, stopping here and there to 
 speak to a man. As he approached Sandy he 
 greeted him pleasantly and handed him a card. 
 When it had been read Sandy knew that a 
 meeting for men was to be held in the Young 
 Men's Christian Association rooms a little 
 later, to which he was invited. He had not 
 supposed he was welcome anywhere. 
 
 "That's the place for me," he said to him- 
 self, and when the time for the meeting drew 
 near he arose to go. Much rather would he 
 have sat still, for he was weary, stiff, and 
 sore from sleeping outdoors, and his dissipa- 
 tion had made him feel as decrepit as a man 
 of sixty. He could hardly move along the 
 
TACKS VERSUS TAXES 223 
 
 street and was glad he had only a short dis- 
 tance to go. 
 
 Sandy sat through the service, hearing 
 hymns that reminded him of home, and a sal- 
 vation talk which gripped him. Then he lis- 
 tened to the story of a man like himself, but 
 who had become a new creature through the 
 power of God. 
 
 He sat as in a dream, wondering if it could 
 be true, if, after all, he had not misunderstood 
 things before, vaguely hoping that it was not 
 too late to change even yet. When the invi- 
 tation was given for those who desired to start 
 the Christian life to arise, Sandy jumped up 
 quickly. He always described his experience 
 in that hour in this manner: "The minute I 
 got on my feet a great change came and my 
 heart was filled with heavenly joy. When I 
 came in I was like an old man, hardly able to 
 walk; when I went out I felt like a young 
 man again and as though I could run twenty 
 miles, if need be." 
 
 Very soon he had employment. A former 
 employer, when told of the change in the life 
 of Sandy, gave him something to do, and in 
 course of time he prospered as never before. 
 He had not wanted a drink from the moment 
 he had stood up to declare himself a Christian, 
 was a member of one of the bier churches of 
 
224 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 the city and, instead of being a park "bum," 
 he was respected by all. 
 
 A severe test came a year or two after his 
 conversion, when an employer called upon him 
 to put through a business deal which would 
 have been dishonest. After praying, Sandy 
 declined to do it and was discharged and 
 derided for his stand in the bargain. When 
 he secured a place with an opposition house, 
 the old boss tried to secure his discharge there 
 by innuendo, but was unsuccessful. He had 
 the satisfaction later of having the old boss 
 come to him and beg him to come back, apolo- 
 gizing for the slurs and the trouble he had 
 sought to make. 
 
 In the course of time Sandy started a busi- 
 ness of his own, which extends to several other 
 large cities, and has built up the most prosper- 
 ous business of its kind in the country. He 
 owns much real estate in the city where he 
 once was a park habitue, and has amassed a 
 comfortable fortune, though he has given lib- 
 erally to the Church and religious interests. 
 
 While he has been gaining wealth, Sandy 
 has not forgotten the source of it all, nor has 
 he forgotten that other men are as ignorant 
 as he once was of the fact that there is a 
 method by which they may get rid of the in- 
 cubus which weighs them down. Therefore 
 
TACKS VERSUS TAXES 225 
 
 he constantly is going to the missions and 
 other places where he has an opportunity to 
 tell of his redemption. He has been an invalu- 
 able ally to more than one leader in rescue 
 work, while the number of individual men he 
 has helped lift up and start on the way to 
 heaven will never be known until the ac- 
 counts are squared "in that day." 
 
 He has put himself, his time, and his money 
 into Christian work with gladness, and has 
 found that it was a profitable investment in 
 many ways; spiritually it has made a heaven 
 on earth; he has laid up treasures where 
 thieves break not in and steal ; he has brought 
 joy into many other homes, and not the most 
 important, but equally interesting has been 
 his material prosperity. He pays taxes on a 
 long list of properties, and tells with pride 
 how Jesus took him when an outcast and made 
 him rich that God may be glorified and sinners 
 be converted. 
 
 From the same town in Scotland came Wal- 
 lace, whose drinking disgraced his parents so 
 that they shipped him to America, where a 
 brother had established himself. Though he 
 had promised the mother he would not drink 
 any more, he slipped a bottle of whisky in each 
 of his suitcases and had a fine spree on ship- 
 board until the liquor was gone. 
 
226 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 Drink had prevented him from making suc- 
 cess at anything in this country, though he 
 had tried many lines, and it brought him down 
 so low that he was glad to get anything, even 
 as cook, waiter, or dishwasher in a restaurant, 
 but could not hold any of them. He married 
 a Christian girl, but they separated several 
 times because of drink, the wife earning her 
 own way in a factory. 
 
 He had just come from the workhouse, 
 whither he had been sent to sober up and be- 
 come able to support himself. He had been in 
 a fight and his jaw was broken and bandaged, 
 his clothing had been pieced out at the work- 
 house, and was meager; his shoes were those 
 furnished by the prison. He had slept a night 
 or two in a park, had found old friends who 
 bought him drinks, and his condition was 
 deplorable as he came into a mission hall for 
 the first time, looking for the food and drink 
 served there. He was a picture of woe, a fact 
 commented upon by a number of visitors ; but 
 he drank in the songs and testimonies as 
 eagerly as he had consumed the coffee and 
 sandwich. That night he went forward and 
 called upon God to save him. 
 
 Next day he found work, and ere long — 
 just before Thanksgiving, it was. — he had 
 saved enough to buy a turkey and started to 
 
TACKS VERSUS TAXES 227 
 
 find his wife. He waited on a corner near the 
 factory until she came out. Of course she 
 would not believe him, but he walked home 
 with her, talking the matter over, and gave 
 her the turkey, agreeing to come and see that 
 it was cooked. Very soon they were reunited 
 and have never been separated since. Wallace 
 has had many slips, but he has always come 
 back, and Satan has little chance of winning 
 the persistent one. 
 
 Several years after his conversion the aged 
 parents crossed the Atlantic to see the place 
 where Wallace had been reborn. Previously 
 they had heard from visitors to Scotland of 
 the change in their boy and could not with- 
 stand the yearning to see him and the mis- 
 sion. He was able to point out exactly the 
 spot where he had knelt, and there the little 
 family party lifted up their hearts to God in 
 thanksgiving for a salvation which is able to 
 raise the fallen. 
 
 Tamas was another Scotch boy who became 
 a drunkard on the other side and abused the 
 confidence of his family until they shipped 
 him to America. The family was in com- 
 fortable circumstances, the father in trade, 
 and Tamas was his assistant ; after he became 
 a hard drinker he frequently took from the 
 cash drawer enough money to go away on a 
 
228 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 long spree. When this could be stood no 
 longer they sent him away. 
 
 In America he went the pace that kills until 
 he was down and out, unable to hold a place 
 as a waiter or even dishwasher, for he had 
 gravitated into the restaurant business. He 
 was going along the street one night and, see- 
 ing a former companion standing on a chair 
 speaking, noticed that there was something 
 unwonted about him and stopped to listen. He 
 heard the story of his conversion and was 
 forced to believe the evidence before his eyes. 
 That night he started to live the new life him- 
 self, has prospered and persevered, and is on 
 the high road to heaven. He is a singer of the 
 gospel, as well as an exponent of the salva- 
 tion message for the lost, and his sweet Chris- 
 tian character has won many friends for the 
 one-time outcast. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 Bread Line to Breadwinner 
 
 You would know that Mac was patient and 
 faithful the moment you came in contact with 
 him, but you would never suspect him for a 
 man with a "past/' for his calm and steadfast 
 ways would indicate that he had been plod- 
 ding along the narrow path from the very be- 
 ginning. Nevertheless, a few years ago Mac 
 was found in the bread line and invited to 
 come and partake of the bread of heaven. 
 
 He came from the North of Ireland, where 
 Protestantism reigns, and, like all boys of 
 that section, godly parents strove to direct 
 him into the right paths. He was still a young 
 man when he landed in America to seek 
 the fortune denied him by circumstances 
 in his homeland. Unfortunately, he had 
 learned to drink, and the Scotch-Irish work- 
 ing classes among whom he lived were fond 
 of "a little sup," and ere long Mac learned to 
 love it too. 
 
 It was not drink alone which brought him 
 to the bread line, but that probably was at 
 the bottom of all his hard luck. He stood 
 bowed with the weight of care, ragged, dirty, 
 
 229 
 
230 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 penniless, friendless; on his face the sodden 
 look of the hopeless drunkard. A woman mis- 
 sionary, traversing the line waiting for coffee 
 and bread to be distributed, saw that he was 
 not one of those who are in the line night after 
 night, and year after year, for that matter, and 
 spoke to him. Though she received little en- 
 couragement, she told him where there was a 
 free supper the following night. 
 
 Probably Mac was the most hopeless case 
 among the more than four hundred homeless 
 ones there. A great number of them went for- 
 ward for prayers at the close of the service, 
 Mac among the number, though he was a re- 
 luctant seeker. He was the last one who 
 would have been selected as the lone leper 
 to return with thanks, but prayer was an- 
 swered that night, and God heard the cry and 
 the word of pardon was whispered. 
 
 What a wonderful alchemy is salvation, 
 which takes in base metal and turns it out 
 pure gold! Mac was soon recognized to be 
 firmly landed on the Eock, and his regularity 
 with presence and testimony gained him the 
 title "Old Faithful," which he held until he 
 earned that of "The Evangelist from the Sub- 
 urbs." 
 
 But if his load of sin had disappeared, it 
 seemed as if he was fated to have a continuous 
 
BREAD LINE TO BREADWINNER 231 
 
 performance of trouble. Without a trade or 
 education, little was open to him except work 
 as a laborer. He has never attained to em- 
 ployment of a very remunerative character, 
 and his faithfulness has been tested by the 
 most trying circumstances; yet in the midst 
 of his adversities, Mac has stood firm. Yes, 
 he has done more, for out of his poverty he 
 has helped others, and his regular attendance 
 at his spiritual birthplace has been an inspira- 
 tion to the leaders and workers when the ad- 
 versary hit one after another of the converts. 
 Old Faithful there, he was saved, and, seeing 
 what God had done for him, fresh courage 
 came for the fight. 
 
 After a time he secured steady employment 
 with a large corporation in a suburban city. 
 He found a mission the first week and soon 
 became one of its workers; but he reserved 
 Saturday night for the mission where he was 
 saved, and that night without Mac would be 
 lacking in power to many. 
 
 He found entrance to the churches of the 
 neighborhood for many miles around also, 
 and told there of the salvation which had 
 come to him. He had a happy gift of telling 
 with remarkable directness how he had been 
 led to God, and he has been a welcome visi- 
 tor wherever he has gone. 
 
232 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 Kefreshing simplicity and humility have 
 marked his Christian walk and conversation. 
 No possible provocation could make him say 
 aught against his neighbor, nor will he tolerate 
 it in another. This one thing has made him 
 beloved of his fellows. His employers believe 
 in him; his fellow employees respect him; he 
 is revered by many to whom he has pointed 
 the way of salvation. He no longer haunts 
 the bread line, for he is able to support him- 
 self by the labor of his hands; nay, he has 
 enabled many to keep from the bread line by 
 his generosity, and has he not ministered unto 
 three — himself, his fellow, and the Master? 
 
 Fowler also came from the bread line in 
 much the same manner, and, like Mac, justi- 
 fied the labor of the missionary who went out 
 at midnight to call men from the highways 
 and hedges guests for the feast. Fowler was 
 of a different type. He had come from London 
 and had been started right in life, but gravi- 
 tated to the gay life early. At eight he was 
 in training for acrobatic performances in a 
 noted music hall, not of the highest type. 
 Its audiences were made up for the most part 
 of drinking men, and the lad was encouraged 
 to drain the glasses. It was thought to be 
 smart to permit it; the lad thought he was 
 making himself a man by learning to drink. 
 
BREAD LINE TO BREADWINNER 233 
 
 Here he acquired a habit which wrecked his 
 life for many years. 
 
 His father had been a successful business 
 man, as had his father before him, and Fowler 
 was the successor, upon the death of his 
 father. Had he been freed from his drink- 
 ing, he might have been a well-to-do merchant 
 to-day, but in a few years he ran through 
 the entire fortune, and the business at last 
 was lost, too; every penny he could get was 
 spent for liquor. 
 
 He came to America resolved to start anew 
 and remain sober. His uncle had come over 
 the ocean a number of years before and was 
 a stevedore on the water front. Fowler was 
 put to work as a longshoreman. His first 
 week he made almost thirty dollars, and after 
 paying his board spent the last penny at a 
 resort then notorious as a sporting center. 
 The next week the process was repeated. His 
 sin had followed him across the water. 
 
 Twenty-four years he was a longshoreman, 
 foreman, or stevedore, drawing union wages 
 when he was an employee, making more when 
 he was the boss himself; but no matter how 
 earned, the saloon received it all. Probably 
 of all the types of a seaport the hardest set 
 of men are the longshoremen. Working at 
 high tension when there is something to be 
 
234 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 done, in the moments of relaxation from labor 
 they take their pleasure as strenuously. They 
 are not ordinarily vicious, but the brand of 
 liquor they consume makes them "crazy 
 drunk," and they fight and are boisterous. 
 The tenements where they lodge are in con- 
 stant uproar; their surroundings are de- 
 graded, their women are as dissolute as them- 
 selves ; their life is one of endless turmoil. 
 
 But Fowler got beyond this stage, even, for 
 he was drunk so much of the time that he 
 could not earn bread for himself, let alone for 
 a household. And so he got into the bread 
 line. A Salvation Army lassie got hold of him 
 first, led him from a street meeting to the 
 hall, and then to the altar, where a start was 
 made for the better life. For several years 
 he was a faithful soldier, but his work kept 
 him from the meetings, and in time he fell 
 away. He went down lower than ever and 
 the bread line again claimed him. 
 
 He thought his case was hopeless; believed 
 that after he had once fallen away God no 
 longer cared for him. Supper night in a mis- 
 sion lured him there, and one of the testi- 
 monies, from a backslider, awakened hope 
 once more and he went forward. Since then 
 there has been no inducement strong enough 
 to cause him to swerve* 
 
BREAD LINE TO BREADWINNER 235 
 
 One night Alexander, the evangelist-singer, 
 came to the mission. While conducting the 
 music his ear caught a clear baritone and, 
 selecting it from the many before him, he 
 asked the owner to arise and sing the chorus 
 of a song being learned by the men. It was 
 Fowler, and thereafter he was in demand as 
 a soloist at the mission. 
 
 About a year later he joined the Salvation 
 Army once more as a soldier, and night after 
 night, on one of the downtown corners, his 
 voice may be heard in song and testimony, 
 repeated in the hall later. He has charge of 
 the hall and frequently ministers to some of 
 his old companions in the evil life. They all 
 know of the change in his life and that he is 
 a Christian indeed, for it stands out so that 
 all may see. 
 
 Though often urged to apply for a com- 
 mission in the army, he has steadfastly de- 
 clined to seek preferment, that he may remain 
 among and try to help those with whom he 
 once associated. He has learned to know the 
 truth of the chorus he sang for Alexander 
 and to apply the words to his own life: 
 
 Lean on his arms, trusting in his love, 
 Lean on his arms, all his mercies prove, 
 Lean on his arms, looking home above, 
 Just lean on the Saviour's arms. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 A Prison Apostle 
 
 No one familiar with the temperament of 
 the thief could have failed to see in his fur- 
 tive glances and shrinking manner, when he 
 came to the mission, that he had been behind 
 the bars. He bore the stamp of a man 
 hounded by the police to the last stages of des- 
 peration. As a matter of fact, this was the 
 very thing which made him so welcome to the 
 man at the door, a converted thief, who saw 
 in the man his own condition a few months 
 previous. 
 
 Brink was on the way to the river when he 
 heard music and was attracted to the meet- 
 ing, which had just commenced. He was hard 
 pressed by his past record, turned down every- 
 where, hounded by the police, and unable to 
 provide food or shelter for himself, unless he 
 turned back to crime. He had spent twenty- 
 two years altogether behind the bars for bank 
 robbery; if it became a question of the river 
 or another chance at prison, he felt that there 
 was but one choice. 
 
 He was not a drunkard — drank very little, 
 in fact — for he knew that if he was to have 
 
 236 
 
A PRISON APOSTLE 237 
 
 a chance of escape after a crime he would 
 need a clear head, and so he had foresworn 
 intoxicants, except perhaps for an occasional 
 drink. 
 
 He had always felt, also, that he was not 
 a common thief. Banks were in his line, but, 
 somehow, the police or sheriffs got him, and 
 his long prison life had brought the conviction 
 that he was not much of a success as a bank 
 burglar. He could get in the vaults, but 
 could not get away afterward. 
 
 He had just come from a Southern prison, 
 where he had been caged up for a long term. 
 After his release he had thought to get a 
 fresh start in the North, where he was un- 
 known, but he found that his record clung to 
 him, and that no one wanted to employ a 
 thief. 
 
 "Once a thief, always a thief was what 
 they hurled at him in some places where he 
 sought work. Others felt sorry, but couldn't 
 do anything for him. No one would trust him. 
 
 When the small sum given him at the prison 
 door had been exhausted he was in dire 
 straits. He had been turned down so often 
 that he was completely discouraged and so 
 had turned toward the river. 
 
 Twenty-five years before, almost to a month, 
 he had been graduated from the University 
 
238 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 of Georgia, having been born in that State 
 just before the Civil War. In college he 
 learned to gamble, and by the time he was 
 ready to go out into the world it had become 
 a passion which mastered him. In a remark- 
 ably short time he found himself a criminal. 
 To recoup his losses he had turned thief and 
 the bank at a Southern town was minus a 
 large sum of money. He was traced, caught, 
 tried, and convicted. 
 
 His prison was a living hell on earth. For 
 trifling infractions of the rules the lash, 
 shackles, solitary confinement, the water cure 
 and many other modes of torture were ap- 
 plied to him, and he saw others receive even 
 worse treatment. While he was confined his 
 mother died, his last living friend, and be- 
 tween grief for her and rage at the punish- 
 ments inflicted upon him he became desperate. 
 He emerged a hardened criminal. 
 
 His liberty was but short, and again he was 
 behind the bars ; again and again they caught 
 him. He was looked upon as a confirmed 
 criminal, though he had had but three years 
 outside of jails to do all the things with which 
 he was charged. 
 
 This was the wreck of character which 
 drifted into the mission. He heard songs he 
 had heard in his childhood. 
 
A PRISON APOSTLE 239 
 
 "This is no place for me," he meditated; 
 "the likes of me is not wanted." 
 
 Several times he started to leave, but some- 
 thing held him and then a strange thing hap- 
 pened which riveted him to the spot. A man 
 told how he had been a thief and a drunk- 
 ard and had been saved from that life, and 
 he looked the part. Others told of their ex- 
 periences, and while they talked hope began 
 to bud and he wondered if there was a chance 
 for him. 
 
 When the testimonies were over a former 
 highway robber and jail-breaker put his arm 
 around Brink and led him to the mourner's 
 bench, and he arose a free man. 
 
 Within a year he spoke from a platform at 
 one of the large universities in the North, 
 and members of the faculty were so moved 
 by his story that they organized a mission 
 work for the down-and-outs and released pris- 
 oners and put Brink in charge. During the 
 four years he was superintendent the work 
 grew to be very effective in reclaiming men. 
 His stories of prison conditions in the South, 
 as he had seen them from the inside, aroused 
 no little discussion among reformers. There 
 had been stories printed before, but their 
 source had not been reliable; yet they had 
 induced a number of men to form an asso- 
 
240 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 ciation to study the conditions and find means 
 of remedying the evils discovered in the State 
 corrective systems. The information pos- 
 sessed by Brink attracted their attention and 
 he finally was called to be secretary of the 
 association and to direct its work. 
 
 Thus from under the lash he had come, 
 perhaps to abolish the lash in prisons; from 
 the water cure to tell the people that it is 
 effectual only when the Water of Life is 
 used. He is expected to recommend to the 
 various State governments measures which 
 will alleviate the sufferings of prisoners un- 
 der the present system — a prison apostle, 
 whose work will last long after he has been 
 forgotten by those he helps. 
 
 Thomas, who greeted Brink at the mission 
 and pointed the way of life to him, had been 
 through long prison experience himself. He 
 was a son of a saloonkeeper, who left consid- 
 erable money at death. Thomas resolved to 
 see the country. He had been traveling with 
 a tough set in his native city, but he left them 
 behind and became a "gentleman" when he 
 went West. He thought he had enough money 
 to last him forever, but in this he was mis- 
 taken, for he came to the end of his money 
 on the Pacific Coast. 
 
 He turned highway robber, his gang ex- 
 
A PRISON APOSTLE 241 
 
 perience fitting him best for that method of 
 getting money. Success made him too bold, 
 and the police sent him to the prison most 
 hated by criminals, San Quentin, on San Fran- 
 cisco Bay. He was released in eighteen 
 months. There were other charges against 
 him for holdups, but by some oversight he was 
 allowed to depart from the prison. He made 
 quick time into a neighboring State to avoid 
 complications. 
 
 Montana next claimed him and cared for 
 him for five years in the State penitentiary. 
 On his release he went to Washington, and 
 the Tacoma jail soon held him on charges of 
 robbery and burglary. While awaiting trial 
 he broke the jail and turned all the prisoners 
 loose with him. The authorities recaptured 
 some of the men, but Thomas had made good 
 his way out of the country. 
 
 He next appeared at the State capital, 
 where the police caught him for robbery. 
 Once more he escaped, taking all the other 
 prisoners along. In Seattle, the scene of his 
 next exploit, while awaiting trial on two 
 charges of highway robbery, he nearly escaped 
 again, but was detected. He was sentenced 
 to seven years in prison. 
 
 A demon seemed to possess the man. Be- 
 fore he had been in the State prison long he 
 
242 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 planned another escape. A railroad siding 
 into the prison grounds provided means of 
 switching in coal and supplies and taking 
 out carloads of bricks, made by the prisoners. 
 One day, when an engine was shifting cars 
 within the prison, Thomas got into the prison 
 yard, where the warden was superintending 
 the work. Thomas seized the warden and 
 used him as a shield while he carried his plan 
 into effect. With two companions he cap- 
 tured the switch engine, made the engineer 
 and fireman dismount from the cab and gave 
 the signal for a dash to liberty. 
 
 One of his companions, who was supposed 
 to know enough about a locomotive to run 
 it a short distance, became confused by the 
 uproar and excitement of the daring exploit. 
 He pulled the reverse lever back instead of 
 throwing it forward, and when the throttle 
 was opened the engine ran further into the 
 yard instead of crashing through the gate to 
 the main line. Guards shot the two men with 
 Thomas, but he escaped death and was sent 
 to the dungeon for eighteen months, on bread 
 and water most of the time, but not always 
 getting even that. 
 
 While he was in prison he heard of a mis- 
 sionary who was glad to help a criminal to 
 lead a different life. He emerged more dead 
 
A PRISON APOSTLE 243 
 
 than alive from the "solitary" and returned 
 to his native city, knowing that he did not 
 dare stay in the West. On the way he recalled 
 the missionary and sought him when home 
 was reached. Lawlessness found an end in 
 his life that night, for he gave himself to the 
 great Lawgiver as the price of his eternal par- 
 don and citizenship in the kingdom. 
 
 From that time he entered the service of 
 the Master and began to lead others to him. 
 He never cared for any other employment, and 
 God was pleased to call him into one and 
 another branch of Christian work. He has 
 been a city and prison missionary in another 
 city for a number of years. 
 
 Both men have developed into lovely Chris- 
 tian characters, with the traces of the prison 
 and the former desperate natures wholly re- 
 moved. They can never repay those who suf- 
 fered through them, but they are trying to 
 prevent others from suffering by preaching 
 the new life to the criminal classes. The 
 saved thief on the cross is a favorite theme, 
 and it has caused many another thief to plead 
 for pardon from the same source. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVI 
 
 Blind Eyes Made to See 
 
 What time Billy had been an "old salt," 
 he also had been, to use his own words, "an 
 old soak," and it took long to remove both 
 the bilge-water and water-front whisky odors 
 after he was converted. 
 
 He had sailed in and out of the port for 
 many years, a typical seafaring man, hard- 
 working when afloat, and good for nothing 
 when ashore. The lodging house shipping 
 office and the groggery claimed him most of 
 the time he was in port, except when he had 
 signed for the season; then he slept aboard, 
 or lay around the saloon all night, spending 
 the wages for which he had risked his life on 
 the sea many times a day on some voyage. 
 
 He was not so much to be blamed as pitied. 
 He knew no better. Had not sailors done the 
 same things for generations? Why should he 
 set aside the traditions of the forecastle? He 
 did as others of his calling did when off the 
 deck. 
 
 He had been born to the sea and had taken 
 to shipping naturally as a youth, had been 
 into many out-of-the-way corners of the globe 
 
 244 
 
BLIND EYES MADE TO SEE 245 
 
 before the mast, and there was every pros- 
 pect that he would pass his days there, until 
 a wave hurtled him into the churn of the sea 
 during a storm, or a harpy of the docks laid 
 him out for what money he had at the end 
 of a voyage, and then tossed the body off into 
 the river. This seemed to be the usual end 
 of his calling, unless the ship struck a reef, 
 or was cut down during a fog. 
 
 It can hardly be said that Billy deplored 
 his lot in life; he drank and cursed his way 
 through the world with no thought of the 
 future and no murmuring as to the present; 
 the past was something to be forgotten; it 
 would never be seen again by him, he figured. 
 In his latter days aboard ship he had mar- 
 ried and called the squalid tenement rooms 
 home. Home got whatever the barkeeper did 
 not; his wife's exertions kept her from starv- 
 ing when the ship was on a long voyage. She 
 had been favored with few opportunities in 
 life, but she was a faithful wife, with a lean- 
 ing toward religion, and she prayed, perhaps 
 not possessing much faith that her prayers 
 would be answered, even if the great God 
 heard them. 
 
 One of the diversions of the seamen about 
 one part of the harbor was to spend an hour 
 or two occasionally listening to a former river 
 
246 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 pirate who had turned religious and had meet- 
 ings in a ramshackle building just back from 
 the docks. It was considered sport for the 
 sailors, when they had taken aboard the 
 requisite amount of drink, to listen to the 
 helpers of the pirate tell of their past lives 
 and conversion; it was a good substitute for 
 the cheap show. For this reason Billy found 
 himself within the place more than once. 
 
 As for taking heed to the exhortation of 
 the leader or the others, such a course never 
 entered his head. Some of them labored with 
 him, but usually he was either too drunk or 
 too sullen to be impressed. 
 
 "I'm nothing but a drunken sailor and al- 
 ways will be, I reckon," was all they could 
 get out of him. But he continued to visit 
 the place occasionally. 
 
 "If I can only get men nibbling about the 
 hook, I'm bound to get them in time," said 
 the ex-pirate who had turned fisherman — for 
 souls. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon Billy was among 
 the seekers. He never could tell just why, 
 but there he was, to the joy of the fisher and 
 to the effectual turning away from his evil 
 ways for a time. He came back full, of course, 
 after a trip; that had been expected, for the 
 Evil One seldom permits so faithful a servant 
 
BLIND EYES MADE TO SEE 247 
 
 to escape without several hard tussles, but 
 he was landed at last and became a changed 
 man. 
 
 About the first thing which troubled him 
 was that he could not read his Bible, and he 
 set at it with the help of his wife to commit 
 to memory verses he heard at the mission and 
 others which she read to him. The more he 
 learned the more he wanted to read these 
 things himself, so the wife undertook his edu- 
 cation in the alphabet and one-syllable words. 
 No more hopeless task had ever been set be- 
 fore her. Billy seemingly could not learn; 
 he had almost no foundation in the rudiments 
 of education and old eyes do not acquire skill 
 easily. 
 
 He had been employed as night watchman 
 in one of the noted downtown banks and had 
 a large amount of spare time on his hands, 
 all of which he spent poring over his Bible, 
 but unable to read a word of it. Longing be- 
 came desperation, and he felt that his life- 
 depended on his learning to read. 
 
 One evening his wife read to him : "If any 
 of you lacketh wisdom, let him ask of God, who 
 giveth to all liberally and upbraideth not." 
 
 "That surely means me/' he said; "I lack 
 wisdom to read my Bible, and it says that God 
 will teach me. I will ask him." 
 
248 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 "That night/' he often relates, "I said to 
 myself that God must teach me to read. I 
 went into the teller's cage and sot myself on 
 a stool, opened my Bible before me and told 
 God I'd never get off'n that stool till he 
 teached me to read his Word. I guess he 
 know'd I was determined and meant what I 
 told him. 'T any rate, all of a sudden I see 
 words stand out in the book and I began to 
 read and I have always been able to read the 
 Bible or anything else. If you don't believe 
 it, come over to my house some time and Fll 
 read whole chapters without ever looking at 
 the page" 
 
 Of course his story is always laughed at, 
 not because men doubt that he can read, for 
 usually he has previously demonstrated that, 
 but at his quaint expressions. One can readily 
 understand how his wife's teachings found 
 fruitage under the strong spiritual stress of 
 the old sailor, becoming to him a veritable 
 miracle. Those who know him understand 
 also why he can "read" without looking at the 
 pages. He has read them over so many times 
 that he knows them by heart — truly are they 
 written upon his heart. 
 
 He is still at the bank, faithful guardian of 
 hundreds of thousands of dollars in the vaults, 
 and never a dollar has been lost through him. 
 
BLIND EYES MADE TO SEE 249 
 
 Ignorant? Yes, in arts, or sciences, or litera- 
 ture as ordinarily meant, but is lie not versed 
 in the greatest literature of all ages? Brown- 
 ing and the Rubaiyat may be unintelligible to 
 him, if he ever heard of either, but he lux- 
 uriates in the matchless songs of David; he 
 knows the history of the famous kings who 
 changed the course of nations; the prophecies 
 are his and the gospel message is upon his 
 tongue. Ignorant? In the knowledge of the 
 world, but he knows the secrets of high 
 heaven and holds converse with the King, 
 and the wisdom of the kingdom makes all 
 the rest seem as foolishness unto this guile- 
 less sailor. 
 
 Of a different type was Gustav, who had 
 left his native Deutschland because he drank 
 too heavily to suit his people and had made a 
 failure of everything. He could speak no 
 word of English when he landed, and, as he 
 lived among his countrymen and worked 
 where English was rarely spoken, he made 
 little progress in the language of the land. 
 As long as he could make himself understood 
 at the bar, it sufficed, and its language seems 
 to be universal. Most people are^ understood 
 too well there — for their own good. 
 
 Gustav had not made any improvement in 
 his habits in the land of his adoption, and it 
 
250 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 did not take a long time to make him, he de- 
 clares, a "bum." The bakeries, the bread lines, 
 the places where the willfully idle congregate 
 found him often. He slept in trucks and 
 parks for long, and finally took up his abode 
 in a freight car on a siding, sleeping there all 
 one winter. He was discovered and the watch- 
 man swung his club menacingly and threat- 
 ened to "knock his block off" if he did not 
 leave his quarters in the railroad yard; then 
 he went back to the parks. 
 
 He heard a song while passing along a street 
 one evening and crossed over to listen. To 
 his surprise, he heard a man he had seen be- 
 fore talking from a chair. But what the man 
 said surprised him even more. He said there 
 was hope for a drunkard, an outcast, or a 
 thief. It interested him, for he could claim 
 all three titles. As he listened it dawned upon 
 him that there was something he had not 
 learned while knocking about on two conti- 
 nents; it was worth inquiring into. 
 
 He was too far under the influence of drink 
 to philosophize about it, but it reminded him 
 that he was in an awful condition; here was 
 a man who said that there was a way to get 
 rid of evil conditions. He would hear more 
 of it. 
 
 He listened to what was said in the open- 
 
BLIND EYES MADE TO SEE 251 
 
 air meeting and followed the crowd within 
 the hall, where he heard more of the same 
 kind of talk. He also heard that on some 
 nights they gave away sandwiches and coffee 
 at the mission. He had never heard of such a 
 thing before. 
 
 Of course he came back to get the "supper," 
 for it was easier than begging. When he was 
 fed he was in condition to listen to what was 
 said. Then he decided that if half of what he 
 had heard was really true, it was what he was 
 looking for, and he went with others to kneel 
 for prayer. 
 
 He proved to be a good workman, when his 
 nerves had been soothed and his body fed into 
 strength, and soon he had a steady position. 
 But he was not satisfied, as he heard others 
 tell how much joy they had in reading the 
 Bible and as he got a glimpse of its treasures 
 at the meetings, so he prayed that God would 
 teach him how to read it. He had never been 
 able to read English — could scarcely speak it 
 — but a friend began to help him pick out 
 the words. It was an impossible task, it 
 seemed to him, but God honors honest en- 
 deavor always and he found a way, and now 
 Gustav can read. If you were to ask him the 
 news of the day, he would be likely to say: 
 "I don't read the papers ; I've no time for such 
 
252 THE UNDERWORLD AND THE UPPER 
 
 foolishness." But if you ask him the news of 
 the kingdom, he will open his Bible to some 
 precious promise and tell you that is the best 
 news he ever heard. And he has found none 
 to dispute him. 
 
 Note. — For the information of those unfamiliar with the rescue 
 mission field, it may be said that the larger number of the foregoing 
 stories are of converts of the Old Jerry McAuley Water Street Mission, 
 316 Water Street, New York city, and of the Hadley Rescue Hall, 
 293 Bowery, New York city, to the superintendents of which may be 
 addressed any communication concerning the work. 
 
BLIND EYES MADE TO SEE 253 
 
 IS HOLDING OUT HIS HAND TO YOU i 
 
 Written by a convert and dedicated to John Callahan, 
 Superintendent of Hadley Rescue Hall. 
 
 "When your life seems dark and dreary, 
 
 Every hope from you has fled; 
 When your heart and soul are weary, 
 
 Every happiness long dead; 
 Just remember there's a Saviour 
 
 Looking down from heaven's blue, 
 Watching o'er the strayed and fallen, 
 
 Holding out his hand to you. 
 
 Chorus 
 He is holding out his hand to you, 
 He will help you if your faith is true, 
 
 To every sinner in the land 
 
 Christ is holding out his hand, 
 He is holding out his hand to you. 
 
 When by friends you've been forsaken 
 
 Left alone in sin and shame, 
 Then your spirit must awaken 
 
 To the glory of his name; 
 There is hope for all his children, 
 
 Every lost one gets his due, 
 For the Lord above is beckoning, 
 
 Holding out his hand to you. 
 
 When at last the battle's ended, 
 
 All the storms and strife now gone, 
 Peace and joy in rapture blended, 
 
 'Tis the birth of a new morn; 
 Then your soul takes flight to glory, 
 
 Filled with gladness thro' and thro', 
 With his angels Christ is waiting, 
 
 Holding out his hand to you. 
 
 Used by permission. 
 
MAR 13 1912 
 
 
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