CHAPTER XII
Fred Hanks
The topic of conversation in Bucktown on Sunday evening was the Gospel wagon service. Many little groups were seen here and there talking about Floe, Bill, the singing or the fight. Every one but Mrs. Kinney liked some part of the service, but she was never known to be pleased with anything.
"The idea of Bill Cook sayin' the things he did! And if I'd 'a' been his wife I'd hide my face. My! I was ashamed fer him. I'll bet he'll be drunk for weeks out and I jus' wish he would," she said.
When some one said they thought the singing was fine, Mrs. Kinney said, "Hum, you call that singin'? That big feller that stood on the end and singed bass looks like a catfish when he opened his mouth. The fellow that plays the organ looks for all the world like a girl, and if you call that singin', I wish you could hear the singin' I heard at the Indian Medicine Show last summer; that's what I call real singin'. And that Floe standin' up there, singin' afore that big crowd and her mother hardly cold in her coffin! The style is that she mus' not go in 'siety fer a year, and if you call that singin' you don't know the first principle of music er 'siety. To my way of thinkin', them big horses should be a-workin' 'stead o' hawlin' a lot o' lazy galoots around town fer pleasure. Why, that Morton wears as good clothes as the undertaker. I'll bet he steals the money out of the collection box at the Mission."
Mrs. Kinney never missed an opportunity to express her opinion and the neighbors knew just what to expect from her. She was the only person in the neighborhood who dared criticise Dave Beach.
"He's a devil, and you'll all find it out when it's too late," she said.
At the Mission the house was packed and several who had been at the Bucktown wagon service were in the audience. Gene Dibble was there with a "shanty" over his eye, his lip was swelled to twice its natural size and his right hand was tied up in a red handkerchief. He certainly looked the worse for wear. He dropped into a back seat and not a word sung or spoken escaped him.
When Floe arose to sing, by request, the same song of the afternoon, Gene straightened up, and before she was half through the song he was standing on tiptoe. Floe saw him as he stood there and recognized him as the man who had fought to defend her that day.
At the close of the meeting, Morton gave an invitation and Gene was the first one to raise his hand for prayer. He raised the one with the red handkerchief about it and Floe went at once to the rear of the room, to speak to him about his soul.
"I'm so sorry to have caused you all this trouble," she said. "You would not be in this condition to-night were it not for me."
"That's nothin'; I'd 'a' done it fer any girl that's tryin' to trot square. It's that song that's botherin' me, not the fight. Do you think I could ever be a Christian like you folks talk about? I have a good mother, but I'll never meet her there like you sing about in the song, the way I'm goin' now; what will I do?"
When Floe and Gene walked up the aisle together, several people from Bucktown saw them. Before Gene could reach Dave's barn the news had preceded him. When Gene and Jimmie walked into the barn, Dave leaped to his feet and, taking Gene's free hand in his, said, "You're right in the step you've taken to-night and I'm glad for you. I know that your life can be a useful one and I don't want any one to put a straw in your way. No, don't say a word about that; it's not for me, but I feel just as much pleased to see you get into it as if it were for me. I know it is right, but I've lost my chance."
At the conference in Morton's home the next morning, there was a time of great rejoicing, also a time of great anxiety. Jimmie was very happy over Gene's conversion.
"We'll git der whole bunch yet," he said to Morton. "Der was five of 'em at the altar from Bucktown, last night, 'sides Gene. Fred Hanks was er comin' ter der Mission, but he got pinched at der railroad crossin' fer bein' drunk. Fagin give 'm four big drinks and er bottle ter start on, den steered him fer der meetin'. He got nabbed 'fore he got dere."
Fagin had hoped to have Fred cause a disturbance at the meeting. He, Mike and Jewey were doing everything in their power to stop the Mission work in Bucktown. The fight on Sunday was a part of their plan; unfortunately for them, Dave Beach was there to see fair play and it resulted in a victory for Gene. Morton knew that the long fight that was to follow in Bucktown would be hard and bitter, but he also knew that God could give the victory.
"Is Fred in jail now, Jimmie?" he asked.
"Dat's what Dave tol' me dis mornin'."
After prayer, Jimmie with Morton started for the jail.
"Dis is Mr. Morton from the Mission, Fred; he wants ter see yer." With great difficulty Fred arose from the old plank upon which he was lying. He took hold of the bars with both hands, but was so weak he could not stand on his feet.
"Just sit down, my boy; I want to talk to you," said Morton, kindly.
Fred fell back exhausted upon the plank. In the city police stations of this country, a plank built against the wall is used for a bed.
"You see," continued Morton, "I've been all through this thing and know just how you feel. Jimmie tells me you have been drinking for several weeks without a let-up. Have you had a drink this morning?"
"No, and I'm near dead fer one," said Fred.
"If I should take you out of here and help you to get on your feet, would you like to make a try for a better life?" asked Morton. "I was in a worse shape than you when I staggered into a Mission and learned of Jesus' power to save drunken men. I turned myself over into his keeping and I've not wanted a drink for over seven years. I know you are weak, but God is strong and He will fight for you. If you will promise me to do as I tell you, I will pay your fine and take you out of here."
"I drew a ten spot or a three thirty-five," said Fred. "If you'll pay it for me I'll pay you back as soon as I get to work and I'll never take another drink as long as I live."
"Unless you let the Lord undertake for you," said Morton, "you'll be drunk again inside of a week."
Morton prayed with him and then went to the clerk of the police court and paid his fine.
After Fred had had a bath and shampoo Mr. and Mrs. Morton went with him to his home. His wife and boy had not seen him for ten days and they were actually suffering for the necessities of life. It required much talk and coaxing before Mrs. Hanks would agree to give him one more chance.
"You do not know him as I do," she said to Mrs. Morton. "A thousand times he has promised me to stay away from saloons and not drink, but he's broken every promise he ever made me. Our rent is two months behind, and baby and me have gone to bed hungry more than one night on account of his drunkenness. I'm tired of it all, and if it wasn't for baby's sake I'd end my life. I wish I was dead." She buried her head in her hands and wept bitterly.
"It'll never happen again; I'm done this time sure," and he meant what he said.
Morton left money with Mrs. Hanks to buy things to eat. She put Fred to bed and cared for him as tenderly as loving hands could. A woman's love is wonderful. In a few days Fred went to work at his old job, determined to be a sober man the rest of his life.
That night he stood up in the Mission and said he was sober and was going to remain sober. On his way home to dinner next day, Fagin called to him from the saloon door.
"Hello, Fred, they tell me that you're going to be a Mission stiff. Come in here a minute." Fred stepped inside.
"I never thought you would get yellow on the bunch," said Fagin. "A man's a baby that will admit he can't take a social glass and stop when he wants to. Let's all take one together. Give us all something, Mike," said Fagin.
Fred did not have the courage to say No. He not only took a drink with Fagin, but remained there until he was so drunk he couldn't see. Never had he been worse, that night he was helped into the Mission by Fagin's gang. They followed him in and waited to see the fun, but Fred was too drunk to make a noise and soon fell asleep.
At the close of the meeting, Mr. Morton shook him until he awoke. "Come, Fred, I want you to go home with me to-night; I want to help you and be your friend." The next morning Fred was so ashamed of himself that he did not want to see the Mortons. He dressed himself and tried to slip out of the house unnoticed. Mrs. Morton intercepted him at the door.
"Never mind about the past, my boy," she said. "You let God take care of you for to-day and you'll be all right. Your boss said you could go to work and your wife wants you to come home. We'll help you in every way we can, and if you'll only trust God, everything will brighten up."
Fred was heartbroken.
"I don't deserve such treatment from you folks; I turned you and lied to you like a thief," he said.
"But Jesus loves you and we love you and your family loves you and you can go out in the strength of God and win the fight. Keep away from saloons and pray for help," said Mrs. Morton.
Bill Cook was having a hard fight with the Fagin crowd. They had tried every way to get him to drink but he had been able to say No, in the name of the Lord. Then they attempted to get him angry.
"Bill gets paid fer testifyin' in the Mission; he's just workin' a new graft," Fagin said one day.
Bill was angry in a moment and wanted to fight, but before he could say anything, Jimmie said to Fagin, "Yer bet yer life he gits paid fer servin' Jesus. Look at dem clothes he's wearin'. He never had 'em when yer was gittin' his dough. He's dressin' jus' as swell as yer dressin'. When his woman gits rigged up fer meetin' she makes yer old gal look like er wheelborrer in er autermobile parade. Say, Fagin, yer worked up 'cause yer thinks yer kin git Bill sore an' den he'll take one. Not him; he's drinkin' other kind er booze, eh, Bill?"
Gene Dibble was tormented almost beyond human endurance. He walked into Dave's barn one day white with rage. "If I've got ter stand this kind of a deal ter be a Christian, I'll cut this whole business out."
"What's the trouble?" asked Dave.
"There'll be trouble enough when I see Fagin," said Gene; "I just came from his place, but I can't find him. The dirty thief says that Floe is wrong and that I'm just playin' this here religious dodge just to get Floe. Floe an' me have been singin' together some and he says we're not trottin' square. I'll tell yer, Dave, there'll be singin' over to his house and he won't know anything about it if he don't stop mentioning Floe's name in that old cheap booze dump. That name's too good ter even be spoke in there."
Dave smiled and Gene was quick to see it.
"Now see here, Dave, you're wrong. I'm not stuck on Floe and no dog like Fagin can kick her down while I live."
"You stay away from Fagin's," said Dave, "and don't let anything that you hear bother you. I'll see him to-day and he'll stop talking or I'll make him stop."
After Fagin learned that he was causing Gene and Bill so much trouble he doubled his efforts to persecute them. "They're afraid to pass by the place any more," he said. "If they're tryin' to do good, why don't they come in and talk to us? I guess Gene can't leave his girl long enough.
"Say, kid, come here," he called to Jimmie. "Why don't Morton come down here and try to convert us? Does he think we're so good we don't need it?"
"Der yer want him ter come?" asked Jimmie.
"Sure I want him, but he won't come; he's scart of the cars."
Thirty minutes later, Jimmie rushed into Fagin's. There were ten or twenty men at the bar and Jimmie called out so every one could hear, "Say, Fagin, Mr. Morton said he'd come ter-night at eight er-clock an' hold a meetin' in yer saloon if you'll promise ter sell no booze from eight ter nine. Will yer do it?"
"Be game, Fagin, be game!" cried several voices. "Don't let him bluff you."
Fagin hesitated a moment.
"You're yellow, Fagin. I heard yer ask the kid why he didn't come and now yer afraid he will come."
"Be game, old man; we'll all come to the meeting," said another.
After much good-natured talk of this kind, Fagin turned to Jimmie and said, "Tell 'em to come, kid, and we'll give 'em the warmest time they've had in months."
CHAPTER XIII
"Fagin's Meetin'"
At eight o'clock Fagin's big bar-room was filled with people. The crowd was mostly made up of men, although several women had ventured in to see the fun. At the bar men were standing three deep. Mike and Fagin were both working hard, but were unable to wait upon the crowd.
"Here they come," cried some one at the door.
In a moment every one was quiet and still, as Morton and his workers filed into the place. Fagin's place was known as a free and easy. In the rear of the room was a platform upon which stood several chairs, a table and an old grand piano.
"Go back to the platform," said Fagin.
Jimmie, Floe, Gene Dibble, Bill Cook, Mrs. Cook and Morton stepped upon the platform. Floe went to the piano and started to play the old song, "Jesus, Lover of My Soul." Without an invitation nearly every one joined in the singing and Morton was pleased. As the song ended about twenty strong voices started to clap their hands and sing:
"Monday I got awful drunk,
Tuesday I got sober,
Wednesday night I stayed at home
To think the matter over.
Thursday I went out again,
Friday I took more,
And Saturday night they found me tight
On Fagin's cellar door."
They repeated it three times, making more noise each time. Just as they stopped, Floe and Gene started to sing:
"On Sunday I am happy, on Monday full of joy,
On Tuesday I've a peace, the devil can't destroy.
On Wednesday and on Thursday I'm walking in the light,
Friday 'tis a Heaven below, the same on Saturday night."
Without a stop they ran into Doane's greatest song, "Hide Me,
O My Saviour, Hide Me."
Whatever Fagin's plans were, he had forgotten them. Never were two voices better adapted for this sort of music. Gene's tenor voice blended perfectly with Floe's rich alto. But, what is more essential in the singing of the Gospel, they both knew what they were singing about and to whom they were singing.
The best story teller on earth can not tell a story well unless he knows it, neither can the best singer on earth sing the Gospel well unless he knows it. The question so often asked to-day, Why are there no conversions in our church? could be answered sometimes by a glance into the choir loft.
Every one stood spellbound as Floe and Gene put their very souls into the song:
"Hide me when my heart is breaking, with its weight of woe,
When in tears I seek the comfort, Thou canst alone bestow."
Every word was a prayer and Floe was singing to God alone; she seemed to forget the crowd and the place; she remembered the time she had taken her broken heart to Jesus with its weight of woe. Gene was self-conscious, but no one knew it, as every eye was upon Floe. She stopped playing and stood up as they very softly sang the chorus the last time. Falling upon her knees, she said: "Let us pray. O Father, we thank Thee, that Thou hast given us a chance to praise Thee in this room. In former days, in this same place, we blasphemed Thy Holy Name. We thank Thee for forgiveness, for peace, for power to overcome sin, and now, O Father, our prayer is for the people in this room. We know that Thou lovest them all; may they realize to-night that Jesus is the sinner's Friend. For the habit-bound ones, we pray, set them free, O God!" With tears streaming down her cheeks she prayed for Dave Beach, Fagin, Mike, Ike Palmer, and the girls that were living lives of shame; the plea she made to God for Fred Hanks would almost melt a heart of stone. "Forgive these men for getting poor, weak Fred drunk to-night," she prayed. "He is trying hard, but Mr. Fagin and his helpers are doing all they can to kill him; for Jesus' sake stop them, for the sake of his heart-broken wife and his little boy, stop them. May every man, woman and child here to-night be saved for Jesus' sake. Amen."
Not a person moved during the prayer; every word went straight to the hearts of the people; many of the women were weeping and the men were fighting back their tears with more or less success.
After Fagin had consented to allow a meeting in his place he and his crowd had gone after Fred and filled him full of liquor. At the right time he was to be brought into the room and introduced as one of Morton's converts. This was to be the signal for the crowd to break up the meeting.
Floe had spoiled their plans by her prayer. Fred came into the room unnoticed while she was praying, and at the close of her prayer he pushed his way to the platform. In his drunken way he said he didn't want to blame the gang for his condition, but he had tried as hard as he could and it was no use, there was no hope for him. He began to cry and left the room by the rear door. He pulled the door open again and, waving his hat in the air said, "You pikers will never git another chance to make a monkey out of me," and slammed the door.
Morton jumped to his feet and said to the crowd, "I want Floe and Gene to sing for you, but before they sing I will ask Mrs. Cook, one of your neighbors, to say something about Jesus in her home." Morton was afraid to have Bill Cook speak, but thought Mrs. Cook could keep the crowd still better than a man.
"Everybody here knows me," said Mrs. Cook. "We've lived here in this town for thirty years. All that time, until a little while ago, we've had a drunkard's home. Jesus saved me one night and my husband came the next night and we're havin' the blessedest time yer' ever heard tell on. Bill don't drink no more and I ain't been mad fer two weeks now, 'cept when Fagin and Mike tried ter git Bill ter drink. I don't see fer the life of me, what they want ter git Bill back inter the gutter agin fer"—Morton trembled—"they oughter be satisfied; they've had all his money fer years. I wouldn't do that ter them er their families if they was tryin' ter git along like we are," and she began to cry.
Before she could go on with her talk, Morton arose and said, "Floe and Gene will sing." The song selected was the duet, "They are Nailed to the Cross."
"There was One who was willing to die in my stead,
That a soul so unworthy might live,
And the path to the cross, He was willing to tread,
All the sins of my life to forgive.
"They are nailed to the cross, they are nailed to the cross,
Oh, how much he was willing to bear!
With what anguish and loss, Jesus went to the cross!
But he carried my sins with Him there.
"He is tender and loving and patient with me,
While He cleanses my heart of its dross;
But 'there's no condemnation,' I know I am free,
For my sins are all nailed to the cross.
"I will cling to my Saviour and never depart,
I will joyfully journey each day,
With a song on my lips and a song in my heart,
That my sins have been taken away."
After the song Morton gave an invitation. Mike stepped out from behind the bar, untied his white apron and walked up to the platform. "If you people think that I kin be fergiven I want it right now," he said. "I did try to get Bill to drink and I got Fred Hanks drunk and I'm an awful sinner, but I'm done with the whole business; I'll never sell nor take another drink in my life if God will forgive me the way I've used Him." Mike's wife pushed her way through the crowd and they both bowed in prayer at the old saloon platform. At least twenty-five men and women came forward that night and prayed to God for mercy. Fagin stood with his elbows on the bar and watched everything that was going on, but he said nothing.
At nine o'clock Mr. Morton said, "We agreed to get through in this place at nine o'clock and our time is up. I wish to thank Mr. Fagin for his kindness to us, and before we close I wish to ask God to bless him and his family and get him out of this business."
Fagin bowed his head as Morton prayed, and as they passed out he shook hands with all of them and invited them to come again.
The next night at the Mission the first man upon his feet to give a testimony was Oily Ike Palmer. "I was in Fagin's bar-room meeting, and before I went to sleep last night Jesus saved me. Every one in the First Ward knows me and they know very little good of me. I was educated for the ministry and expected to be some one in this world. Everything was bright before me; my parents were both Christians and well to do. Every one, in the little place where I lived, pointed me out as a model young man. A so-called doctor gave me morphine for pain one day and told me to carry it with me always. Some of you know the rest of my story without my telling it; it soon got the best of me. For fifteen years I have been a drug fiend. I have tried every known remedy and they have all failed. With the drug I began to drink whisky. In order to keep myself in these things, I became dishonest. For ten years at least I have made my money in a crooked way. My family have suffered everything through my sin. We were not raised in the slums, but have drifted to the very bottom because of my vicious habits. My brothers and sisters never mention my name, and in the old home my picture has been turned toward the wall. Last night, when Jimmie Moore came to my home and invited me to the Fagin place, I could not refuse him. He told me that Jesus could help me and that you people here would be my friend. I went to Fagin's and heard of my way out; I left that place determined to find God if I could; I spent half of last night upon my knees, and to-night, although very weak and nervous, I know that I am saved. I've been twenty-four hours without drug or whisky and I could never do that unless God was with me. I just want to say one more thing before I sit down. Jimmie Moore came to my house again to-day and invited me to this meeting. When I told him I had no clothing fit to be seen in a place like this, he took every penny he had, thirty-seven cents, I believe, and bought these pants from Rosenbaum. He has promised to leave an evening paper there for sixty-three days to make up the dollar—the price of the pants. I did not know that until this evening, or I should not have allowed him to do it. Jesus saved me, but that boy did his share of it and under God I want to thank Jimmie for my salvation."
Mike and his wife both spoke and thanked God for salvation.
Bucktown was well represented at the meeting and several professed conversion. After the meeting Jimmie said to Morton, "When we git Dave and Fagin, Fred Hanks and Doc Snyder saved, Bucktown will be just as good as der Bulevard ter live in. Jewey got pinched ter-day and he'll git a ten spot, 'cause dey found der goods on him."
CHAPTER XIV
Fred and Doc
When Fred Hanks left Fagin's, he started for the river determined to end his life. Fred had made many desperate attempts to live a sober life, but with him it was out of the question. He had made resolution after resolution. He had taken the gold cure and in less than forty-eight hours after being cured he was drunk again. His own father had said to Morton, "There is no hope for him, and I wish that he was dead." Five different times Morton had prayed with him and Fred had promised each time to stay away from drink and trust God; and he meant every word he said. Men do not get to be drunkards from choice; they cannot help it. It is the first drink that makes drunkards, not the last. The hundreds of thousands of young men and women who are drinking just for fun to-day will be a great army of helpless drunkards to-morrow. Of course, if they were told this, every one would laugh at the idea that they would ever be drunkards; but, allow the question, where else do the drunkards come from? Many men say they can drink or they can leave it alone. Every drunkard in the world has been able to say the same thing sometime, but that time passes for nearly every one. Men who say they can drink or leave it alone, invariably drink. The same thing is true with the poor fallen girl. Never did a girl start out with the intention of going into the very depths of sin; but Charles N. Crittenden tells us that three hundred thousand women are living in houses of ill-fame in the United States alone. Their average life is only five years and it takes six thousand girls every thirty days to keep the ranks filled. Seventy-two thousand girls enter upon a life of shame every year; again, allow the question, where do they come from? No man starts out to be a drunkard; no girl starts out to be a harlot; why are there so many? Unconsciously they become slaves to sin, and the result is, our country is reeking with this class of people. One who has given a life among women of this class says that nine out of every ten come from the dance hall. One thing is certain, they all come from our homes. Nearly all would gladly leave the awful life they are living if they could, but, like poor Fred Hanks, they are bound hand and foot by sin. Nothing but the power of God can save the fallen.
Fred went to the bridge over the East Side canal and, climbing to the top of the railing, deliberately leaped into the dark waters, twenty feet below. Several people saw him when he leaped and he was rescued from the water before he could drown. When the officer from the corner saw who it was he called the wagon from the police station and Fred spent the night in his wet clothing on the plank in a cell. As he was loaded into the wagon several people inquired who he was. "Oh, only a drunken barber," was the reply; "we get him often. It ain't the first time he's tried this."
The next morning, with Jimmie, Morton went to the station and took Fred to his home. There was a change in Fred; Morton saw something in him that he had never noticed there before.
"Fred," he said kindly, "you have had a very close call; but God in His love and mercy has seen fit to spare you. What do you mean to do with your life?"
"With God's help I'll give it all to Him." And right then and there he unconditionally surrendered himself to God.
Mrs. Hanks took her baby in her arms and paid Fagin a visit.
"O Mr. Fagin, won't you please give Fred a chance to stay sober? Every time he gets away from liquor for a few days, you do all in your power to get him drunk again. Last night he nearly succeeded in killing himself, after you had filled him up, and you would have been his murderer had he accomplished his purpose. Baby and myself have had nothing to eat to-day and I cannot stand this strain much longer; for our sake, won't you give him a chance?"
Fagin was very nervous as he thought of the awful way he had acted. He promised her, not only to refuse Fred any liquor in his place, but said he would do all in his power to keep it away from him in other places. As she left the place, he slipped a dollar into her hand and said, "Feed the kid; he looks hungry."
Fred was sick from the effects of his bath the night before; but so determined was he to do right, that he went with Jimmie to Doctor Snyder's office and from there to work. The doctor gave him some medicine and called him "a d—— fool" for his attempt of the night before.
"Say, Doc," said Jimmie, "Fred's got Jesus ter-day and boozin' and him is done. Ter-night in der Mission he's goin' ter speak erbout it. Yer promised ter come down some night; won't yer come ter-night t' hear Fred?"
"If Fred will speak I'll come down and sit on the front seat," said the doctor, tauntingly, as he turned to Fred.
"You'll be on the front seat then," said Fred, "'cause I'm goin' to speak if God lets me live. I've tried lots of times to brace up, but this time I'm trustin' God. If you're a man of your word you'll be in the Mission to-night and on the front seat too."
That night the doctor was there. He had several drinks aboard, but was not in the least intoxicated. After the singing and Scripture reading the meeting was thrown open for testimonials. Bill and Mrs. Cook stood up and told how God had saved them. The doctor had never heard them speak before and he at once became very much interested. When Mike Hardy stood up to speak the doctor was so surprised that he turned around in his chair and unconsciously said, "Well, I'll be d——! When did he get into this game? If there's nothing in this religion they're talking about, a mighty lot of people are getting fooled in this Mission business."
Fred Hanks took hold of a chair in front of him and with difficulty rose to his feet. "I don't expect any one to take stock in me," he said; "I have made so many mistakes and turned the Mission people so many times I am almost ashamed to look at them. I'm not making any promises this time. I've turned my case over to Jesus Christ. If I get drunk now, He's to blame, 'cause he's running the whole shooting match. My life has been a failure from start to finish. When I was a boy I carried papers; one of my regular customers was an old Dutch woman, who used to brew her own beer. Every evening when I delivered her paper I got my glass of beer. I got so I looked ahead to it and when I was sixteen years old I could drink as much beer as a man. I learned the barber's trade, and before I was twenty years of age I was known as a drunken barber. I braced up many times, but when I started again I always went lower than I was before. I got into trouble, was arrested, and pled guilty. On account of my parents, the judge suspended sentence with the understanding that if I ever took a drink, he would call me up before him and give me five years. With the State prison staring me in the face I managed to stay sober three months. During that time I worked hard, got good clothes on me and married one of the sweetest girls that ever lived. After our marriage—well, it's the same old story; why should I tell it again? I've been in jail all over this country. My picture is in the Rogues' gallery in more than one city. I did not want to be dishonest, but a man can't drink whisky and be honest.
"I have stolen the pennies out of my baby's bank to satisfy that awful desire for whisky. Don't tell me that a man does that because he wants to; I couldn't help it. God help me; I've tried as hard as any man ever tried to be somebody but that craving for whisky was there and it had to be first in my life. Whisky was my god, I worshiped it, I loved it better than my family, my life. I've taken the shoes off my feet in the winter time and traded them for whisky. But to-day, thank God, I've not even wanted a drink. The first day in years that I've not wanted whisky is to-day. Gold cure failed; prison bars failed; wife's tears failed; but Jesus has taken even the desire for it away. When a man has that gnawing at his very vitals there is but two things that will touch it, a big drink of whisky or the Lord Jesus Christ. Thank God, I have Him, and I'll never thirst again. Last night I leaped from the bridge into the water to end my life; but God saved me from death and hell. I do not understand how He can love such a brute as I am, but He does and now I'm saved."
The doctor was very much moved by what he had heard.
"I never heard it just this way," he said. "The way you folks put it it's a personal matter and I never could believe that. I believe there is some great Supreme Being; but I do not believe in a personal God. I think that after you die you get what's coming to you; but you people say that you're saved right now and you know it. That can't be."
In the inquiry meeting, Morton took his Bible and sat down beside
Dr. Snyder. "Doctor, read that verse," he said, opening his
Bible to John 5:24.
"Verily, verily I say unto you, he that heareth My Word and believeth on Him that sent me, hath——"
"Does that mean, 'will have'?" asked Morton.
"No, 'hath,' is in the present tense," said the doctor.
"'Hath everlasting life', then, means that we have it now, don't it, doctor?"
"That is what it says, sir."
"Now look at Isaiah 53:6," said Morton.
"All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned every one to his own way and the Lord hath laid——"
"Not 'will lay'," said Morton. "'Hath laid' upon Christ 'the iniquity of us all.' Does that mean you, doctor?" asked Morton.
"Can it mean me?" asked the doctor.
"If the Word is true, it means you," said Morton.
Like a flash it dawned upon the doctor that Jesus had borne his sins in His own body on the tree. He leaped to his feet and said: "All these years I've been a chump! I've never been satisfied with myself. Had I known this was for me I would have had it long ago." He was very happy and went from one to the other shaking hands. When he met Jimmie, he hugged him.
"I want to go to Bucktown and tell the gang I'm saved," he said.
After the meeting Fred Hanks, Doctor Snyder and Jimmie went from place to place in Bucktown and the doctor did all the talking. He preached to every one he met. In Fagin's, he told them all how Fred and he had been saved and begged every one of them to give their hearts to God. The last place they went was to the Dolly resort. Never was there such a plea made for purity as the doctor made to that crowd of women. "There is something better for you than this sort of life," he said. "God loves every one of you and wants to save you now. If you will trust Him to save you I will find you a different home than this." He did not look for what happened.
"If you will find me a place where I can live like other people, I'll leave here to-night," said one. "I don't like to live this way, but there's no one cares for me."
About midnight the door-bell rang at the Morton home, and when Mr. Morton opened the door, the doctor, Fred and Jimmie stood there with three women from the Dolly resort.
"I was preaching to the people down in Bucktown," said the doctor, "and I told them I'd find them a better place to live if they would trust God. They took me at my word and I have nothing else to do but bring them here."
Every bed was filled but they were made welcome by Mrs. Morton.
"Come right in," she said. "One of you can sleep with Floe and the other two can sleep in this bed downstairs. To-morrow we will get another bed and put it in Floe's big room."
Mr. and Mrs. Morton slept on the floor that night.
When Jimmie reached the barn it was two o'clock.
"Where in the world have you been, Jimmie?" asked Dave.
Jimmie told Dave of all that had taken place and he was as much interested as was Jimmie.
"Gee, der doc is a comer sure!" said Jimmie. "He can preach jus' as good as he can peddle pills."
CHAPTER XV
The Picnic
Mrs. Morton and Floe spent most of the time during the day in the homes of Bucktown. They would call the neighbors together to sew for a certain family. After the sewing a prayer meeting was held and many women and children were saved in these meetings. In this way the wives and children were made ready to join with the heads of the homes in Christian living. The children were dressed and put into the Mission Sunday school; the family altar was established and home life took on a new phase in Bucktown. Many were after the loaves and fishes only; and they got them. Mrs. Morton knew that they were trying to deceive her but she never stopped helping them. When real trouble came they would always send for her and many that started out to "work" the Mission found Jesus before the "work" ended.
As time drew near for the Mission picnic, the young people and children talked of nothing else. Six or seven hundred people attend the annual picnic and the day is one never to be forgotten by those who go.
Two days before the picnic, Jimmie rushed into Morton's office and said, "Mr. Morton, I want ter ast you fer somfin'."
"What is it, Jimmie?" asked Morton.
"Well, kin I have it?"
"You can have anything I can give you, my boy; but what is it?"
"I want der gospel wagon and white horses fer picnic day."
"Now, what in the world do you want with a thing like that?" asked Morton.
"Didn't yer say dat everybody was invited ter der picnic?" asked
Jimmie.
"Yes, that's what I said."
"Well, I want ter take der Bucktown gang what can't go dere by demselves, and I want der wagon ter haul 'em. Der's more 'an twenty of 'em 'at can't go dere in street cars. Der's one-winged Bob, Hump Rumpord, Goosefoot Sus, Stumpie-der-shine, Nigger Mose, Hop Hawkins, Blind Billy, der pianer player at Dolly's, 'sides those nigger kids of Griffin's 'at's been sick all winter, and 'sides, Mrs. Rollins says Swipsey can go wid me if I'll take care of 'im. He near died wid der dipteria and he's just gittin' over it."
"Well, can you run such an excursion, if I get a good man to drive the team?" said Morton.
"Kin 'er duck swim? 'Course I kin run her. Kin I have her?" asked Jimmie.
"Yes, you may have them and we will help you in every way we can," said Morton. "How's Dave Beach getting on?"
"Gee, he's under construction. He's mad at everybody, drinks like er fish and swears ter beat der cars," said Jimmie.
"You mean that he is under conviction," said Morton.
"Well, what ever she is, Dave can't swaller 'er an' she's near choking him."
The day of the picnic was warm and bright, a great crowd was there with lunch baskets, and every one was in the best of humor. Thirty minutes after the cars reached the park, Jimmie's excursion came. The white horses were covered with foam and never did they seem so proud as they danced and pranced up the steep hill to the park. Jimmie stood on the back step and was as proud as the team. Bill Cook lifted Swipsey from the wagon and placed him in a hammock. Jimmie introduced his load as "der bunch."
"When do we eat, Hump?" asked Bob.
"I dunno. I hope mighty soon. Jimmie says it's goin' to be swell."
"Wonder what dey'll have. Did yer see any of der stuff?" asked
Hop.
"Nope, but I hope they have pie an' soup an' cake wid raisins in it. Say, Mose, which you'd rather have, sweet potates and possum or watermelon an' 'lasses?"
"Hush yuh business, man! Hush, yuh business! I'd drop dead suh, if I'd see a possum. Who said watahmelon? Look yah, man, I ain't had no pokchop foh moh 'an a week. Hush, man! I can't stan' no foolin' 'bout such impotent mattahs."
When dinner was announced Morton gave orders to have Jimmie with "der bunch" sit at the first table. He told the young ladies who waited upon them to give them everything they wanted. The first things that were passed to them were several plates of ham sandwiches.
"Please, how many kin I have of 'em, missus?" asked Hump.
"You can have all you want of them; help yourself," replied the lady.
He took no less than seven sandwiches the first grab. All that the rest of "der bunch" needed was some one to start the thing right, so they all took a like amount.
"Leave der rest of 'em for Blind Billy," said Hump, as one of the ladies started away with one of the plates.
"What's dat yeller stuff comin', Jim?" whispered Swipsey.
"Gee! don't yer know nothin'?" said Jimmie knowingly. "Dat's hard eggs wid corn mush over dem."
After Swipsey had tasted of it a few times, he turned to Jimmie and said, "Them's taters, jus' common taters, wid dat stuff spilt on 'em and they tastes jus' like green walnuts."
More sandwiches, baked beans, pickles, potato salad, lemonade, etc., were being stored away so fast that it kept several ladies busy waiting upon them. When they were well filled Mrs. Morton sent a plate of fried chicken to their table. Mose stood up and looked at it.
"Look, yuh woman, where dat chicken come from? I'd give my hat if I had dat ol' ham an' bread out of me. I'll put my share of dat chicken away if I bust."
They all grabbed at once. Jimmie got the largest piece and gave it to Blind Billy. "I don't want no chicken, no how," he said.
Two large watermelons followed. They were cut in fancy scallops and the waiter put them both down in front of Mose. He took the largest piece and laid his face upon it and laughed until he cried. "Mah, watahmelon, what am I eveh 'gwine to do with you. If I eat dat melon, I'll die suh. But I neveh could die any happier."
They all ate watermelon till they could hardly straighten up. Then, when the ice cream and cake was set before them, there was great sorrow.
With tears in his eyes, Stumpy stood up and said, "We're der biggest lot of d—— fools what ever lived. Here we'se are full to der neck wid bread and taters and dem cheap beans dat we'se kin all git ter home and never left no room for chicken, watermelon, ice cream and all dis here kinds of cake. Somebody oughter take us out in der woods and kick us ter death."
"An' yer all doin' der same ting every day," said Jimmie. "Yer gits so full of cuss words and shootin' craps and boozin' and stealin' and lyin' dat yer don't have no room fer Jesus. Jesus is ice cream and cake an' watermelon, an' Morton says He's honey outen der rock. Yer don't git no feed like dis at Fagin's or no where else where they ain't got Jesus."
On the way home, Jimmie attempted to get his load of cripples to accept Christ; and the argument they had about "'ligion," as Mose called it, would make splendid reading for preachers; but we will pass most of it by. Jimmie told them that Jesus loved them all and was able to help them.
"In der picture I see'd of Him, He's got long hair and wears long dresses like a woman and looks jus' like he's goin' ter cry. What's He know erbout guys like us? I can't walk er nothin' and kin a womany man help me?" asked Hop.
"I don't care erbout no pictures," said Jimmie. "He ain't no womany man. He built houses and barns and was a carpenter when He was here. He was born in a barn and slep' in a barn same's I do an' He didn't have no more home 'an I got. He jus' knows what I'm doin' an' what I need an' kin take care of me, 'cause He's been there."
When they were in the midst of their argument the wagon stopped in front of Dave's barn. Dave's opinion on any subject was final in Bucktown.
"Say, Dave, come here, will yer?" cried Jimmie. "Dese pikers are tryin' ter say that Jesus don't love 'em and can't save 'em and sech like and I want yer ter prove that I'm right. Don't Jesus love everybody?"
"Yes, everybody," said Dave.
"Ain't He got der power der save everybody?"
"Yes, everybody," said Dave.
"Cripples an' all?" asked Jimmie.
"Yes, cripples and all," said Dave.
"Won't He fergive 'em all der mean things dey done?"
"Yes, all of them," said Dave.
"An' won't He take care of 'em all der time?"
"Yes, all the time," said Dave.
"Now, smartie, what did I tell yer?" said Jimmie to Hop.
"Say, Dave," said Hop, "do yer believe all yer sayin'?"
"I certainly do," said Dave.
"Say, Dave, why don't yer git it if yer believe it?"
Dave was dumfounded.
"Oh, it's not for me, boys," he said. "You see, it's——"
"Den it's not fer us neither," Hop ejaculated. "So yer see yer don't believe a word yer say. We're goin'. So-long, Dave."
Jimmie's eyes filled with tears as he watched Dave stand there with his head down. Never had he known Dave to get the worst of an argument before. As the team started, Dave looked up at Jimmie; their eyes met for an instant. The pain and sorrow on Jimmie's face pierced Dave to the heart.
CHAPTER XVI
Dave Strikes His Gait
After Jimmie had sold his evening papers he started for Dave's barn. His heart was heavy. Dave had a wonderful influence over this boy. Jimmie loved him and believed him to be a wonderful man. He found Dave in his office. "Dave, I want ter talk ter yer erbout what Hop said ter yer. He said 'at if it wasn't fer you it wasn't fer him either. Yer didn't say nothin' and I've been thinkin' maybe yer didn't have nothin' ter say. If yer sure it's not fer yer, how kin it be fer me? I don't know what ter do. I pray fer yer every day but if God don't want yer I might as well give yer up."
He buried his face in his hands and began to weep.
"It's me that's been wrong, Jimmie, not you. I've fought God ever since I've known you. After you went away to-day I hated myself for my cowardice. I know what is right and I'll do it or die."
Jimmie looked up and said, "Der yer mean yer are goin' ter get saved?"
"That's just what I mean, Jimmie, I am——" But before he could finish his sentence Jimmie jumped into his lap and hugged him.
"Dear old Dave, I knowed you'd come. Let's go to der Mission right away, it's time fer der singin' already."
Dave walked so fast that Jimmie had to run to keep up. The song service was in progress when they reached the Mission. They sat down in the front row of seats and after a few songs Dave jumped to his feet and said, "Excuse me, I want to get saved and I want to get saved bad. I can't wait for the word. I want to get off now. I've scored at will, I've scored by the pole horse and I've laid up a heat or two; but I want to get on my stride and face the wire agoing square. I'm done jockeying and with everything else that's crooked and I'm going into this race teaming for first money. I'll win by the help of God."
After the meeting, Floe, Gene, Bill Cook and his wife, Ike Palmer, Mike Hardy, Mr. and Mrs. Morton and Jimmie went with Dave to Bucktown. He invited them to visit him at his barn; but his office was so small they could not all get in, so they went to the Cook residence. Dave excused himself and in five minutes returned with Fagin. Fagin was surprised when he saw the crowd, but he did not seem displeased. Dave was the first to speak.
"Fagin, I let Jesus into my life to-night and I want you to do the same thing. We're going to start a Sunday school in Bucktown and we want your room for the purpose.
"This afternoon I denied Christ and I feel that I've turned a lot of young folks from God; I will get them back for Him if I have to start a Sunday school and have meetings in the old barn besides. You know, Fagin, the other day when Fred Hanks tried to kill himself, you told me you were tired of your business and wished you could be a Christian. You told me how sorry you were you boozed him up six times after Morton had got hold of him. Now, Fred has given himself to God and is doing good work in the Mission and we want you to join us."
Mrs. Fagin was sent for and it took very little persuasion to bring her to a decision for the right.
"Mr. Morton and myself will take the lease for the building off your hands and we'll pay you for what stock you have," Dave told them. "You can get into the factory where you used to work and you can live like a man."
Very little remains to be said. The men that came to God through Jimmie Moore's ministry made the greatest Gospel-wagon crew ever known. In jail, street and Mission meetings they worked like one man, never once was any jealousy known to spring up amongst them. Not one of them ever went back into the old life for one hour. Five of them have been called into God's work and all have been prospered and blessed of God.
Jimmie is living with Mr. and Mrs. Gene Dibble and no one ever saw a happier home.
Jimmie says, "Floe's der best cook what ever happened." Dave, Bill and Fagin used their influence and elected aldermen who closed every stall saloon and house of ill-fame in Bucktown. For eight months Fagin's place was used for a kindergarten during the week and Sunday school on Sunday. The Railroad Company bought the old houses in Poverty Row and razed them; a side track running to the market has taken their place.
One day Jimmie stood at the market and said, "Gee! dis don't look no more like old Bucktown dan a man what's smokin' looks like a Christian."
End of Project Gutenberg's Jimmie Moore of Bucktown, by Melvin Earnest Trotter