Fifteen Years with the Outcast Part 22

Just the other day I was reading how much Delia did for the Lord in her short Christian life [Before conversion known as the "Blue Bird" of Mulberry Bend of New York], and it has made me feel bad; for here I have been saved over a year, and what have I done? It is said that she had over six hundred souls in three months, and I can not claim one that I know of. I know that I have tried to be what G.o.d would have me be, if ever a girl did try. [Indeed, indeed you have, dear child, and G.o.d smiles on you for it.]

There is one thing sure. I have prayed a great deal for you lately for ever since two weeks ago Tuesday night, which was our prayer-meeting night of course, I had a real hard fight with Satan, and he had tried to get the better of my better self, and Miss Sisson came and told of your being at a house to see the landlady and then of your going back in a few days to preach the funeral services over the dead body of one of the girls [suicide]. Oh, how it helped me to see what I had been spared from and how much I had to praise G.o.d for! and it also showed me how many prayers you needed to help you in your work, and so I have held you up more than ever before His throne, and maybe if I can not reap myself, I can pray for those that are in the field.

G.o.d has been so good that all through my sickness I have missed but two days' work, that is, there were but two days that I was not able to get the meals (all of them). It is perfectly wonderful, the strength, willingness, and determination He will give us if we but want it.

Sometimes lately when my head has been so bad, I have thought, what if I should be taken now. It would be grand to go home; but I have talked with Mother W---- so much lately, and I do not feel I could go till I have done something for Him who did so much for me. Pray for me, Mother, that I may get better and do something. I want to go and tell Mattie [a former companion in sin] and the girls, that what G.o.d has done for me he will do for them.

I'll tell you what Doctor A---- says is the matter with me. She examined me, tested my blood, and said it was not in the system from disease of myself, but that sometime, when my throat was sore, I inhaled the germs from some sick person, that the throat was just in the condition for them to germinate, and now my throat and ear are eaten out terribly. [Cigarette-smoking the probable cause ] She hasn't said she couldn't cure me, but that it will take a year's solid and continuous treatment, without any neglectfulness whatsoever.

Oh! isn't it true that if we sow to the flesh, we must reap corruption.

I know that I did, and am willing to suffer the pain and endure if I can only tell others--yes--warn them. But I know that I can not do it away from here until I can do it better here, so I want more courage to do it better here.

Mania doesn't know much about my throat, only what Mother W---- wrote her that tune.

Oh! this is an awfully long letter, so I must close it. I am nervous and can't write well.

Pray for us, as we pray for you. Everybody sends you their love, and G.o.d bless you.

Your daughter in faith, Lucy ----.

How I loved to receive her appreciative, newsy letters! but oh, how they saddened me as I more than ever realized the truth of that statement that "whatsoever we sow, that shall we also reap," Gal. 6:7.

But one more incident and story before we leave Eureka.

One day, on one of my house-to-house visits, and following considerable disappointment, for so few were at home, or else the inmates did not want to receive me, I at last received a response from a frail-looking woman of about twenty-four years of age, who said, "I should very much like to have a heart-to-heart talk with you, but this is no place for it. Can you come to my private room in the ---- ---- lodging-house. Go to room No. --, first floor at 1:30 tomorrow, where we can converse undisturbed."

At the appointed time I was kindly received, and soon I was listening to her troubles; but before rehearsing them she called my attention to a framed diploma on her wall, a teacher's certificate.

"Have you taught school?" I inquired.

She simply answered, "Yes."

"Are you not taking great chances by having that where strangers can see it?" I asked.

"No," she replied; "I do my own work, and have a patent lock, so that none but my husband and me have access to this room."

I was still more at sea. Over the head of her bed hung a picture which I never shall forget. Let me endeavor to describe it:

The beautiful nude form of a young woman lay on a couch. Horror was depicted upon her countenance, and she was frantically but vainly struggling to free herself from the great boa-constrictor which had coiled his ugly thick body about her. Standing beside her and looking on with a dreadful expression of devilish satisfaction was a representation of Satan, whilst coming in at the open door reeled a young man in a woeful state of intoxication.

The old, old dreadful story! When, oh! when will they ever profit by this only too true picture, being really enacted every day, every hour, by some mother's wandering girl?

Would that I might be able to tell you that this ex-school-teacher yielded to our Lord and Savior, but alas! that boa-constrictor had too firm a grip on her. Listen to her story:

"Less than four years ago, I was a happy young woman, living with my parents in the South, in a modest but very happy home, and surrounded by loving friends.

"My downfall dates from a picnic. I was exceedingly fond of dancing, with no ill effect from indulging in what hitherto I had regarded as a most innocent pastime, but that day I was introduced to one who peculiarly affected me. Why, I used to laugh to scorn, and express contempt for, any one who could be so very weak as to succ.u.mb to evil influences through the dance, never dreaming that my day of doom would come.

"How I loved him! and how I hugged my secret! At least, so I thought; but he read me, read me like a book. He was a traveling man, and showed me many excellent letters. I told my parents, who felt interested, and the next thing I was enjoying his company in our home, where he made himself very agreeable to the old people. Soon I was attending several social functions, some at his invitation, particularly where there was dancing, for I loved to feel his arms about me, his breath on my cheek.

"A day came when, for love of him, I bartered my soul. The remorse which soon followed was so deep that I took what little money I had, stole away from home, and my relatives haven't seen or heard from me since, although I hear of them through a trusted friend, who has promised not to further bruise the old folks' hearts by letting them know of my downfall or whereabouts. I'm dead to them forever; dead to them forever!"

"I was the supposed wife of my first love for over a year. How I begged him to marry me! but he only laughed and asked if I wanted to have him arrested for bigamy. Then he left me.

"My baby was born dead. Thank G.o.d for that! and now as soon as able, I must move on.

"Some of these girls on the downward path are so kind-hearted, Mrs.

Roberts."

"Yes, Saidie, I know it well," I said. "I've been their friend for several years, and I know many of them and their good traits and deeds; but pardon me for interrupting." "I drifted from place to place," she continued; "now I'm here--here facing an awful future. No G.o.d, no home, sick in body and soul, not fit to live and certainly not fit to die."

"How happened it that you met the man you called your husband, Saidie?"

I asked.

"Just as nine-tenths of them do," she replied. "We take up with some one who is seemingly kind. It's an awful mistake. _They profit at our expense every day_. They take our earnings of sin, and are often brutal besides," she sobbed.

"But does not the vagrancy law protect you?" I asked.

"No; not so long as they can prove they are working," she answered. "He is a bar-tender."

"Saidie, I want you to leave this life," I pleaded. Come with me, dear.

I will treat you as though you were in deed and in truth my own daughter.

"Listen, I will even go further; you shall travel with me. I need an amanuensis and secretary. I am overworked, dear. Say you will, and I will make all the necessary arrangements."

How I begged her to consent! I wanted to take her then and there, but, _unfortunately, no one I knew would harbor, even temporarily, such a girl, until I was ready to leave--not one_. I could linger no longer that day, excepting for short earnest prayer, in which she took no part. We agreed to meet the following day at noon in a certain restaurant, where we could enjoy privacy. She kept the appointment, but something--I could only conjecture--something had cooled her ardor. I apparently made very little headway with the Master's message. She was silent, obdurate, and she soon left. The next day I followed her up, only to learn from the scrub-woman that Saidie was intoxicated. Again I called; for I was to take the next steamer, and felt I must make one more effort in her behalf. I was told that she had received bad news, that she was drinking deeper than ever to drown her misery, and that it would be worse than useless to see her. After returning to San Jose, I wrote a renewal of my offer, but received no reply. In all probability poor Saidie, _another victim of the dance_, now lies in one of the nameless graves.

CHAPTER XXVII.

SAN QUENTIN--WE SECURE A LOVELY PROPERTY.

On or about August 18, 1904, I was in San Francisco. Thence I went to San Quentin, State's prison, where I was graciously given an opportunity of addressing over one thousand prisoners and also of having many individual heart-to-heart talks, the latter a favor which has been granted me for many years. At this time there was no admission into the women's quarters; under the new and present administration I have been allowed this valuable privilege. To see the faces light up and to hear the hearty expressions from warden, officers, and prisoners was always well worth a special trip at any time; consequently, I looked forward with pleasure, though sad at heart, to visiting our penitentiaries whenever opportunity afforded. Sometimes my efforts seemed barren of results, but only in eternity may we learn of the good accomplished through faithful seed-sowing.

On this particular occasion I had requested of Captain Ellis (captain of the guard) an interview with a young girl, sentenced for two years (I think) for robbery. Before leaving me, she told me of an old woman, a life prisoner, who had not seen the outside of the women's quarters in over twenty years, and asked me if I would not please give her the next call. Captain Ellis having consented, I was soon shaking hands with a very neat, white-haired life prisoner. In a few moments she asked me if I would have any objection to her gazing out of the window at the beautiful bay and scenery, it having been so very many years since she had enjoyed that pleasure.

You can never know the impression made on me by this humble request; my only regret may be readily surmised. How I do praise G.o.d that he put it into the heart and mind of the present matron, Mrs. Genevieve Gardner-Smith, to appeal to kind-hearted Warden Hoyle and the board of prison directors for a special concession in behalf of all the well-behaved women prisoners. She asked for a monthly holiday, to consist of a two-and-a-half hours' walk within the grounds on G.o.d's beautiful green hills, so that these poor women might briefly feast to their heart's content on the lovely landscape and view of San Francisco's unsurpa.s.sable bay. A motion being made and pa.s.sed, one of the many new and excellent concessions is this one of a Sunday walk on the hills once a month in charge of the matron, after the male prisoners are locked in for the day. The first time this occurred, some of these poor women knelt on mother earth and bathed it with their tears. Ah! reader, are you not, with me, daily demonstrating the fact, that _only G.o.dly wisdom, coupled with love, can win_?

[Ill.u.s.tration: BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF SAN QUENTIN]

My visit was all too short. I had to hasten to San Jose, where the board of Beth-Adriel managers were awaiting my arrival to inspect some properties. Please, if you can, imagine the welcome home from my dear Lucy, Anna, and the rest of the family. A warm attachment soon developed between the new matron, Mother Weatherwax, and me. She held the matronal office until health no longer permitted. (Our readers will probably have observed the tendency toward illness on the part of the workers. In this branch of home missionary work there is a great need of strong physique and nerves; otherwise there will be frequent prostration from the constant strain on the system.)

The first joyous greetings over, next in order was inspection of property. After many trips for this purpose I at last saw a place which delighted my heart; but--would the owner part with it? It was the one spoken of previously--the one consisting of ten acres, a commodious house, etc. Some of the members of the board knew the owner, Mr. R. D.