Prisons and Prayer Part 48

I told the superintendent's wife I would be a witness against her in the day of judgment for treating the patients so cruelly. She said she did not have help. I said the state, county or city would send help, that that was no excuse for their starving and cruelly treating those sick helpless invalids. The old woman and the men told me they were compelled to live there in that one room altogether. It was terrible!

One man said he had killed vermin until he was so tired and weak he could do no more. They said that seldom ever any one left that death hole alive. The bodies were sold for dissection.

I went early the next morning to the judge's office to relate my experience and ask him if something could not be done to relieve the suffering of the patients that I found there in such a filthy condition and in such need of care and food and water. I told him I did not see the superintendent, Mr. V. Just at that moment a dudish young fellow in the room arose and said, "So you did not see V. when you went there yesterday; you see him now, don't you?" He was very angry and said I got inside by his absence, and that he would do so and so. The judge said angrily, "Woman, you talk too much." I said, "I have not begun to talk yet." The two men hissed and told me to leave the office. I had taken the precaution to take with me the sister who was traveling with me at that time, also the young man who had helped us to carry the clothes and provisions to the hospital the day before.

They could have corroborated my testimony but the judge was evidently in league with the superintendent of the hospital and would not listen.

I went to a church in the place to a Woman's Missionary meeting and got permission to speak to the ladies in public about the awful conditions I found in their so-called hospital. They were surprised and greatly incensed, and told their husbands, and so there was awakened an interest that resulted in further investigation. Facts were found as I had stated, only, if anything, worse.

The outcome of these things being brought to light was that the old shanties which served as a so-called hospital were replaced by good buildings and kind caretakers took the place of the cruel superintendent--who died some months later after a long illness.

ANOTHER VISIT TO A HOSPITAL.

The following is a description of a visit to another hospital, as published in a paper at Chattanooga, Tenn. This was also early in my work.

A BAT CAVE.

A SANITARIUM FOR CATS AND HOTEL FOR DOGS--CALLED BY COURTESY THE CITY HOSPITAL OF CHATTANOOGA.

Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the eloquent female evangelist, who has been in the city for the past week carrying on a series of prayer meetings in the jails and houses of ill fame, came into the _Commercial_ office yesterday afternoon and gave a full and detailed report of the neglected condition of the city hospital.

She says:

"As I approached the building I could not convince myself that I was really in sight of a hospital, for it reminded me more of a stable than anything else I could conceive of. I approached the gate and met a colored female mute who raised her hand in a deprecating manner as if to warn me of some unseen danger that I was about to come in contact with. I motioned the negro girl to lead the way and followed her into a dreary looking house that I had been told was really the only hospital of which Chattanooga could boast. Just as I opened the door six big hounds sprang from the different beds within the building and would have torn me to pieces had not I hastily slammed the door and shut them in.

I applied to a poor cripple man who had the appearance of a half-fed mendicant where to find the keeper and I was informed that he was asleep, but if I would wait he (the cripple) would go and wake him up, and in a few moments he returned accompanied by a healthy looking man who seemed to care little whether I went in or remained out of doors in the rain.

"As I followed the keeper into the room six well fed hounds and one emaciated looking man occupied the beds that were in the rooms.

"I have wandered from one end of the land to the other, I have visited prison cells, opium joints, houses of ill-fame, almshouses, reformatories and every dreary den from New York to San Francisco, from Florida to Montreal, but with all the sights with which I have been confronted I have never seen a more cheerless abode and one so utterly void of comfort and cleanliness as the one occupied by the poor, hungry invalid that shared the beds of the well fed dogs.

"The sick man said he was suffering for the want of food and had been shamefully neglected since he was placed in charge of the manager of this cheerless inst.i.tution. Two inmates have died within the past week and two are left to suffer.

"The other inmate was a colored man who evidently has little more of life's suffering to endure in this world.

"In this room six cats occupied seats of prominence, two purring on one bed and three others romping from place to place over the apartment, while the sixth was helping himself to the sick man's dinner.

"The buildings are without warmth in the winter and have no means of ventilation for summer. The confined air is contaminated with the odor that rises from unemptied and neglected vessels that are allowed to stand neglected from day to day. The keeper seems to be utterly indifferent with regard to the ease or comfort of the sick and it is very evident that while the city pays for food to support the sick and suffering, the countless and useless dogs and cats eat a large portion of the food which should be used exclusively for the unfortunate inmates."

Mrs. Wheaton has done much commendable work not only in Chattanooga but from one end of the land to the other. She has consecrated her time, wealth and character to the uplifting of fallen people, and by her devotion to Christianity and her liberality has won thousands of friends throughout the country.--Chattanooga Paper.

WORDS OF CHEER FROM OTHER RESCUE WORKERS.

The first of the following letters I carried with me on my second visit to Europe, mentioned elsewhere:

FLORENCE CRITTENTON HOME, 21 and 23 Bleecker Street, New York.

J. F. s.h.i.+rey, 67 Farrington Road, East Coast, England.

Dear Brother: This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, a prison evangelist. She is alone and unprotected in London.

Please make the way for her as best you can where she can speak for G.o.d to the poor prisoners. She lives by faith and trusts Him for all.

G.o.d bless you.

MOTHER PRINDLE.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MOTHER PRINDLE.]

New York, October 16, 1903.

My first acquaintance with Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton was made in the Florence Crittenton Midnight Mission, New York City, in 1890. She impressed me then and has ever since as one whom G.o.d has called and endowed with special gifts for a grand and n.o.ble work. Her one strong hold is faith in G.o.d. When under the power of the Spirit she verily treads upon serpents and scorpions and all the powers of darkness seem to flee before her. As a singing evangelist for prison work, I do not know her equal. Her preaching is in the demonstration of the Spirit and with power.

She gives the Lord's message with holy boldness, fraught with tender love to the sinner, and blessed are the results.

The midnight call given on train, when it was my privilege to be with her, was an hour never to be forgotten. Many will rise up and call her blessed in that great day who but for her favored and wonderful ministry would have gone into outer darkness. G.o.d bless her and her book.

MOTHER PRINDLE.

The following taken from "Beulah Home Record," Chicago, Ill., March 1, 1902, is explanatory in itself. Also the letter that follows:

We have had with us for a time, as our honored guest, Mother Wheaton, the Railroad Prison Evangelist. Like Jesus, the friend of poor sinners, she goes up and down the land in state prisons and homes where mothers' girls are sheltered, down into the coal mines, into the great lumber camps, and on crowded railroad trains, while speeding along, she preaches the everlasting gospel of our Lord and Savior, and gives out tracts. Thus she goes as G.o.d's flaming minister, sowing beside all waters, singing and praying poor sin-sick, tempest-tossed souls into the kingdom of G.o.d. Do you ask what is the secret of her success? It may be found in the Psalms, 126:6--"She goeth forth weeping," she has a burning love for souls. So you and I, dear reader, if we are to succeed in winning souls, our hearts must be full of love for them. We give Mother Wheaton a warm welcome to this great and wicked city of Chicago and a hearty welcome always to Beulah Home.

Berachah Home for Erring Girls, 2719 Lawton Ave., St. Louis, Mo.

We feel in Berachah Home that we shall not forget Mother Wheaton.

She came into the "Home" and our lives just as G.o.d was leading us out in rescue work, and as she stood among us in our first "open meeting," we felt, "Here is a strong, brave soldier of the cross." We found hope and encouragement as she spoke to us of His service, and the Spirit witnessed "This is of G.o.d," as she sang one of her songs as only Mother Wheaton can sing them. We did not see her again until in the Baltimore Convocation of Prayer, January, 1904, when G.o.d again used her to bring Mrs. Chapman and me to G.o.d's full thought for us there. She with others laid hands on us, with prayer, setting us apart for the "work whereunto we were called." May G.o.d bless her ministry to others, as He has to us in Berachah Home.

MRS. J. P. DUNCAN, Mgr.

MRS. B. G. CHAPMAN, Treas.

THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER.

"To the home of his father returning, The prodigal, weary and worn, Is greeted with joy and thanksgiving, As when on his first natal morn; A 'robe' and a 'ring' are his portion, The servants as suppliants bow; He is clad in fine linen and purple, In return for the penitent vow.

"But ah! for the Prodigal Daughter, Who has wandered away from her home; Her feet must still press the dark valley And through the wilderness roam; Alone on the bleak, barren mountains-- The mountains so dreary and cold-- No hand is outstretched in fond pity To welcome her back to the fold.

"But thanks to the Shepherd, whose mercy Still follows His sheep, tho' they stray; The weakest, and e'en the forsaken He bears in His bosom away; And in the bright mansions of glory Which the blood of His sacrifice won, There is room for the Prodigal Daughter, As well as the Prodigal Son!"

We've a Home for Prodigal Daughters, Our Saviour says gather them in; Will you help rescue these dear ones-- Who have fallen in paths of sin?

Your girl may be one of the "fallen,"

And you long to see her return; Oh, there's room for the Prodigal Daughter, As well as the Prodigal Son.

--Horace.