Work in Stockades and Prison Camps in Southern States.
During the first years of my missionary work I was led to stay much of
the time in the South. I was learning lessons in patience, faith and
humility before God. The cross was very heavy. In many places I was
not allowed to stay with white people if I preached to the negroes.
THE RACE QUESTION ran high and the color line was very closely drawn.
In those days I could not understand why this should be. I was taught
in the word of God that all nations were made of one blood and that
God was the Father of us all. I was ignorant and the views of the
southern people were new to me. In many cases, perhaps, I offended
them when I might have avoided it. I knew no better and they often
thought me obstinate. But I was only obeying God the very best I knew
in trying to keep immortal souls out of hell, and I knew that I must
obey God though all the people should misunderstand and misjudge me. I
found nearly all of the prisoners of the South confined in Stockades
and Prison Camps. In many cases the prisons themselves were almost
empty.
The following are from among the many letters of introduction and
recommendation, received while laboring in the southern states:
* * * * *
Montgomery, Ala., Dec. 30, 1884.
Col. J. T. Milner, Superintendent.
Dear Sir: This will be handed you by Mrs. Wheaton, who is a
prison missionary. She has been having religious exercises at
the various prisons in the state, and I respectfully request
that you will permit her to do so at New Castle.
Yours truly,
R. H. DAWSON,
President Board of Inspectors of Prisons.
* * * * *
Raleigh, N. C., June 10, 1893.
Gulf, N. C., C. F. & Y. V. Railroad, Halifax farm (near Weldon);
Captain Bradshaw (near Weldon); Captain McMurray (near
Weldon, on canal); Captain McIver (near Tillery); Captain
Hamlet (near Tillery); Captain Lashley (near Castle Hayne).
The superintendent desires that every courtesy be shown Mrs.
Wheaton and Mrs. ----, and that they be given opportunities to
talk to the prisoners.
JNO. M. FLEMING, Warden.
* * * * *
Rusk, Texas, Jan. 9, 1888.
Mr. George Egbart, Coling Camp.
Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton,
prison missionary, who is making a tour through southern prisons.
She passed the day with me yesterday in the prison. I was pleased
with her manner and with her talk to the men. She wants the
privilege of talking with your men today at the dinner hour. I
think you will be pleased with her. Please give her the necessary
attention and may God bless you, bless her effort, and bless the
men.
J. C. WOOLAM, Chaplain.
* * * * *
EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT OF ALABAMA.
Convict Bureau.
Pratt Mines, Ala., Nov. 30, 1889.
Mr. Thomas C. Dawson, Warden of State Prison, Wetumptka, Ala.
Dear Tom: This letter will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth R.
Wheaton and Mrs. ----, two ladies who are devoting their lives to
the benefit of convicts all over the United States.
These good ladies have done much good, and they should be treated
with every consideration. Give them rooms and access to your
convicts at both prisons. I hope a visit from them will result in
much good.
Your Father,
R. H. DAWSON,
President Board of Inspectors.
* * * * *
Huntsville Penitentiary, Huntsville, Texas, Jan. 13, 1892.
Capt. Abercrombie, Wynne Farm.
Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Wheaton, who wishes to
talk to your men in a body. Any courtesies shown her will be
appreciated by me.
Yours truly,
J. G. SMITHER, Asst. Supt.
* * * * *
STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA.
Executive Department, Raleigh, June 9, 1893.
Hon. A. Deazer, Supt. State's Prison.
Dear Sir: This introduces Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, prison
evangelist. I have assured her that you will grant any request
she may make not in conflict with prison rules.
Very respectfully yours,
ELIAS CARR, Governor.
* * * * *
STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA.
Executive Department, Raleigh, June 15, 1893.
His Excellency, B. R. Tillman, Governor of South Carolina,
Columbia, S. C.
Dear Sir: I have the honor and it gives me pleasure to state that
Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, prison evangelists, have
held religious services at the penitentiary farm and at the
penitentiary and have given satisfaction to the authorities in
both places, and it is thought that their services were
productive of great good. With highest esteem, I am,
Very truly yours,
ELIAS CARR, Governor.
* * * * *
STATE OF ALABAMA.
Executive Department, Montgomery, April 3, 1896.
To all Wardens of Prisons within the State:
Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the bearer hereof, is a prison
evangelist, and well recommended as a good lady. She is desirous
of holding services in the prisons. Any courtesy shown her will
be proper and commendable.
WILLIAM C. OAKES, Governor.
* * * * *
STATE OF GEORGIA.
Penitentiary Department, Atlanta, Georgia, June 30, 1893.
To the Captains in Charge of Convict Camps in Georgia:
I desire that each of you extend to these ladies, Mrs. Wheaton
and Mrs. ---- any courtesies possible during their stay with you,
that they may be given opportunities to talk to the men and women
in your charge. I will particularly appreciate any kindness shown
them. The governor requests that they be shown courtesies.
GEORGE H. JONES, Principal Keeper.
* * * * *
Penitentiary, Columbia, S. C., August 11, 1893.
Mother Wheaton.
Dear Madam: It affords me much pleasure to say that we were glad
to have you come down to the prison and visit other camps
connected therewith, and we believe that you have done lasting
good among the prisoners.
Yours truly,
W. A. NEAL, Superintendent.
Accompanying the above was a list of the convict camps connected with
the prison with the following order:
The sergeant in charge of the above camps will please admit Mrs.
E. R. Wheaton and Mrs. ---- and allow them to hold religious
service at the camp with the convicts.
W. A. NEAL.
* * * * *
STATE OF FLORIDA.
Executive Department, Tallahassee, April 21, 1894.
Messrs. West Bros., West Farm, Fla.
Gentlemen: This will be presented by Mrs. Elizabeth Rider
Wheaton, prison evangelist, who is visiting the convict camps of
the state. Any courtesies and kindness extended to her will be
duly appreciated and reciprocated by,
Yours very respectfully,
D. LANG, Private Secretary.
* * * * *
STATE OF GEORGIA.
Penitentiary Department, Atlanta, Ga., March 21, 1896.
To the Captains in Charge of Convict Camps in Georgia:
I desire that each of you extend to Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ----
any courtesies possible during their stay with you, that they may
have an opportunity to talk with the prisoners. Any kindness
shown them will be appreciated by this office.
JAKE C. MOORE, Assistant Keeper Penitentiary.
* * * * *
Executive Department, Governor's Office, Jackson, Miss.
Mr. J. J. Evans, Jr., Penitentiary.
Dear Sir: Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, who is interested in reform
work, desires to talk to the convicts. Any courtesy shown her
will be highly appreciated.
Very truly yours,
J. J. COMAN, Governor's Sec.
A STOCKADE.
Many inquire of me what a stockade or prison camp is. I will here
explain. A man, or party of men, lease or hire from the state the
labor of a certain number of prisoners for a certain length of time.
They are "doing time," as the prisoners say, for the state. Both men
and women are thus leased out. Their labor is used in clearing up
land, working in cotton and sugar cane fields, in mines, in turpentine
camps, in building railroads, on brick-yards, in phosphate works or in
any place where a company can work together. Their food consists
mostly of swine's flesh and corn bread made with meal, water and salt.
The stockades are large rough wooden buildings, erected by the lessee,
in which the prisoners are confined at night. The men are generally
chained by one ankle to a heavy chain which reaches through the center
of the building from one end to the other, being securely fastened to
strong posts. They usually sleep on the floor in the same clothing
worn through the day--which is generally very scant and poor; but
sometimes they may have a bunk and a rough dirty blanket. The stockade
is guarded by men with loaded guns, and besides this every camp is
abundantly supplied with great, strong bloodhounds. And woe to the
unfortunate criminal that must be tracked and caught by them!
Each prison camp has its mode of punishment for those who break the
rules or fail to do as much as is allotted to them. The keepers of
past years were often very cruel in their treatment, and seemed to
enjoy the punishment which they inflicted upon those under their
control. These poor souls had no way of redress. If they should speak
of the cruelty, they would be treated far worse; the penalty for such
a complaint being a severe whipping. Oh, God, how long shall the cry
of the prisoner be heard? Lord Jesus, come quickly!
Each camp has its officers, guards, etc., among whom is the whipping
boss. And God pity the man or woman who falls into his cruel hands.
There is a board of prison inspectors, the president of which travels
from place to place looking after the interests of all. The conditions
of the stockades are much improved since I first went among them years
ago. I have gone to the governors of different states and pleaded for
the betterment of conditions in the prisons. Especially have I asked
that the women might have better treatment and not be whipped so
brutally for slight offenses or violation of the rules which the
lessee is allowed to make. Upon one occasion I wrote the governor of a
certain state as follows:
Washington, D. C., May 10, 18--.
To His Excellency the Governer of ----.
Dear Brother: I write in behalf of the prisoners in your state
prison at B. M. I find them greatly in need of food and clothing.
The sick prisoners are suffering with hunger. I held services
there one week ago today, and went into the kitchen myself to see
what there was for sixteen sick men and those who are supposed to
wait on them, and I found only one half gallon of milk a day for
all, one chicken, very poor bread, no vegetables, no fruits, and
no seasoning but salt. Who is to blame for this? I find you feed
those prisoners (miners and farmers) on seven cents a day.
It is an outrage, a sin, a curse on this nation, the suffering
you men, you governors or officers, at least allow to exist in
prison walls. You permit those men in B. M. prison to be whipped
for not furnishing daily from three to five small car loads of
coal each, and feed them on food not sufficient to give them
strength to perform that amount of labor. God help you, my
friend! As you are the first officer of the state you should see
that this inhuman treatment is stopped.
Forty men were whipped in one day on two occasions, and on an
average there are from six to eight every day. These men are not
murmuring, I gave them no chance to tell me of this. But the
officers and their wives told me. I saw with my own eyes. The
water in those mountains is very impure and many of the men have
died from mere neglect. Many more will die soon unless something
is done for their relief. Governor, for God's sake, please look
after the temporal interests of your prisoners. I would have come
to you face to face and talked these things over if possible.
Recently I have been to see governors of several of the different
states. They are not aware of the treatment of convicts in their
own states, but I have seen it all these years of my pilgrimage.
The awful suffering I see is just breaking my heart. Poor lost
men and women! Who is responsible for the sin and crime and
suffering? Largely the saloon. Men and women are born in sin and
conceived in iniquity; shut in for years and years for some
little crime, and subjected to the hardest labor, serving out
sentence in prison under whip and lash. It is inhuman and unjust.
What will God Almighty require of you and me in the day of
judgment, For surely we must meet it and answer for our
stewardship here on earth. May God help me to deal faithfully and
do my duty by all classes--to those in authority as well as those
in bondage. Now, understand me, I have no personal grievances to
bring to you. It is simply mismanagement and the desire to run
these prisons on as cheap a scale as possible, to save money for
the State and hold position; and something must be done soon.
I told the men to be obedient and faithfully discharge their duty
as prisoners. In all my work in every state and territory,
Europe, Mexico and Canada, I have never had any trouble; and can
go again to all these prisons where I have held services. What
object have I? None, but the good of the souls and bodies of
those in bonds. They are my children, given me by the Lord, and I
feel as much compassion for them as you would for your child. All
the officers and people were kind to me and treated me with the
utmost respect. All I desire is that you obey God and cause this
starving and brutal treatment to cease. Please say nothing of
this letter but investigate for yourself and see if these things
are not so. Two meals a day (and very little then) for a sick man
is not enough.
Yours for humanity,
MRS. E. R. WHEATON, Prison Evangelist.
The following is an extract from the letter I received in reply to the
above, from the general manager of the prison mines referred to:
----, ----., ---- 22, 18--.
Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.
Dear Madam: Your letter of recent date addressed to Gov. ---- was
referred to me. I regret exceedingly that you did not call at my
office on the occasion of your visit. While there is a great deal
of truth in your letter there is much that indicates that you
were innocently misled by statements of convicts. I know that you
must be a good woman, that your heart is in your work, and from
your wide experience, amply capable of advising and instructing
one like me. In undertaking the task of uniting to bring our
prison systems in this state to a humane basis, we have done more
than you can understand. Had you been familiar with the
conditions during the past thirty years under the lease system
you would realize that much has been accomplished even in the
short time we have been at work. I realize that more is yet to be
done. But "Rome was not built in a day." The public has got to be
educated as well as individuals in immediate charge. I hope
therefore you will be patient, and will be only too glad to see
and confer with you should you again visit us here. In the
meantime I beseech your earnest sympathy and prayers for proper
guidance in our work, for I assure you that it is one that
requires such moral support as only such as you can fully
understand and appreciate. With great respect, I am,
Yours, etc., ----.
PLEA FOR WOMEN CONVICTS.
In some instances women are made to do the farm work, work in brick
yards, and to do other kinds of hard work. At one place in the south
the women cultivated a thousand acres of cotton, doing other farming
and caring for the stockade, horses, mules, cows and hogs and having
only men to guard them. They were not allowed a woman matron to care
for them when they were sick or dying. I found them in rags and
tatters and looking almost like wild beasts. I went to the governor of
that state and pleaded with him for my own sex. I begged him to
protect the poor women from such cruel treatment and brutal
punishment. I asked him to have them taken in from the farm, where
they were clearing up the land and compelled to carry logs, to the
state prison at the Capitol which was nearly empty, and given proper
work and humane treatment.
[Illustration: WOMAN CONVICT AT WORK.]
Once upon my knees before a governor I begged him to take the women
from the stockades to the prison walls at the capital, and place them
under the care of a good matron and give them such work as women
should do. Also that they be properly clothed and fed and taught
morals and religion. I said, "For the sake of young men which you now
employ to control and guard these women, won't you do this?" (I had
found several young babes, born in this place.) He promised that he
would see that this was done.
But a year later I found these women still in the fields laboring and
suffering as before. I again went to the governor. He was now so
changed I hardly knew him. I said to him, "Well, governor, I see the
affairs of state wear heavily upon you. You look ten years older than
you did a year ago when I was here. Why did you not fulfill your
promise to me about transferring those women from the stockades to the
prison here at the capital? I promised that I would not make public
the condition in which I found them if you would look after them. You
promised to have them treated better, but it is just the same now." He
was surprised at my knowledge of affairs and my firmness and tried to
excuse himself, and said that he had brought some of them away to the
prison.
Upon one occasion in later years, in a place I had visited for some
years, I found that an old colored woman had been tied to a log and
severely whipped on the bare flesh. The other women could not bear to
see her so cruelly treated, and silently cried unto God to take the
cruel captain who had ordered her so punished out of the way. He did
so; for when I arrived there in a few days he was struck with death
and soon died. God did not allow him to compel the whipping of any
more women.
I think that upon only one occasion was I ever treated other than
kindly and with respect by any governor. In this case I insisted that
the women prisoners, especially, should be more humanely treated. The
governor refused to take any action regarding the cruelties practiced
but said, "Go to the Principal Keeper." I replied, "I have just come
from the Principal Keeper and he sent me to you, Governor. These
captains are not permitted to strike one blow without a license from
you. It is by your permission that they whip and punish them." He was
evidently annoyed to think that I so well understood the condition of
the prisons and their management. It was now election time and he was
running for office for another term, and he dismissed me without
further ado. Many like him are saying: "Am I my brother's keeper?"
Yes, you and I dear reader, and those in authority will surely have to
answer in the great day of reckoning, if we neglect to alleviate the
sufferings of our fellowmen, when it is in our power to do so. There
are many kind men in office who really desire better conditions of
affairs, but are only servants of those who are higher in authority.
Truly the penalty for crime must be paid, but give all a chance to
reform and do right before God and man. Can we not let poor fallen
human beings see that we do care for them? And that there is hope in
Christ for them if they will repent and confess their sin to Him? Did
He not come "to seek and to save that which was lost?"
BLOOD HOUNDS.
I never will forget my feelings when first the howls of the
bloodhounds sounded in my ears. I was in a stockade and there was a
noise such as I never heard before. I was on my knees praying and the
wife of the captain came in saying, "There has been an escape and the
guards and dogs are after the convict." I just lifted my heart to the
Lord in prayer for the poor unfortunate, hunted man. I never stopped
to think whether white or black; old or young; innocent or guilty; my
one cry was for the life and safety of my boy.
Mothers you know how you would feel were it your boy. Well, I got
initiated in that part of prison management that day. I have one
thought above all others and that is to do God's will and obey Him and
help all in anyway I can into a good life here and a home in Heaven at
last; poor heart-sick, home-sick and sin-sick souls. The very thought
of the convict being helpless should appeal to our sympathy and God,
the Judge of all the universe, is going to call us to give an account
for our stewardship. Men and women must be governed but not by brute
force. We may overpower them, but do we conquer them? Have we won them
to a better life and to good citizenship?
[Illustration: CONVICTS GETTING OUT COAL.]
COAL MINES.
The prison stockades vary in number. Sometimes there may be thirty or
forty in one state, sometimes probably not half that many. It depends
upon the number of prisoners in the penitentiary and into how many
sections they are divided. When I was at Coal City, Ga., a number of
years ago, it was one of the most weird and desolate-looking places in
which I had ever found a stockade located. There were three stockades
on the summit of the mountain, and one at its base. At the last place
the men were mining coal. When I first went there they used a small
car that would hold eight passengers. Then this was abandoned and we
were obliged to ride on the engine, as they carried only coal cars for
shipping the coal that was mined by the prisoners. I was often in
great danger of my clothes taking fire as the fire blazed out of the
engine when the men were shoveling in the coal. The railroad
zig-zagged up the mountain, and once, a sister and myself were obliged
to ride on the coal-box, as the engine was packed with men and one
woman before we had arrived from the other train. I had to kneel down
and hold onto the side of the coal box with both hands, and as the
engine twisted and turned, I was in danger of falling, and it was
hundreds of feet down to the foot of the precipices in places where
our train crept along. All the way up the mountain I prayed God to
protect us. The train was run by prisoners, yet I always felt safe
with them.
A TOUCHING INCIDENT.
"Lady, is you a preacher? Coz, if you is, I want you to come over to
my house 'long wid me and make a prayer, coz my mother is dead, and my
father is in prison over the stockade wall, and they are goin' to bury
my mother, and there ain't nobody to make a prayer, 'cept a colored
woman who was kind to my mother and loved her coz she was good. We
children ain't got nobody to care for us."
It was just as I was leaving the railroad station near the Pratt Mine
prison stockade in Alabama that I was accosted as above. The speaker
was a small white boy with hands and face so black with coal dust that
one could hardly tell that he was white. The sadness of that child's
voice touched my heart, and I said, "Yes, surely I will be glad to go
with you, my child."
Through the mountain forest the little boy had come in search of some
one to make a prayer over the dead mother who, while she was living,
had taught her children about Jesus. I found the cabin by his guiding
me along the mountain path through the underbrush. Such a sight as met
my eyes! A body covered with a ragged sheet, lying on a board held up
by a couple of rickety stools. Nothing was in the hut to make it look
like home. Two old crones sat by the stump fire in the large
fireplace, making free use of snuff and tobacco. It was a dirty little
one-roomed cabin. The funeral was to be at once, but the man who was
making the rough box which was to serve as a coffin was so slow that
we finally waited for the funeral till the next day.
I went to the prison camp and found the husband and father of the
little boy, and obtained permission of the officials for him to attend
the funeral of his wife, providing that I should be responsible for
his return. Well, God understood it all and helped me there in that
wild country; for that was when the prison stockades were not what
they are today. Conditions are much changed since I first went with a
gospel message to those lonely prisoners and sin-bound souls.
MY FIRST MEETING IN A PRISON CAMP.
That night I held my first service in a prison camp. The captain was
loth to allow me the privilege, but the Lord touched his heart and he
said that I might try. I had come a long distance on the train and had
taken little to eat for several days for those were days of much
fasting and prayer. The call of God was upon me. I must preach the
Gospel to these men. So now, I had but one thing to do, to wait alone
upon the Lord. I knelt before God in the little old wooden hut used as
an office, and cried to the Lord, "O Lord, help me! O Lord, help me!
Show me how to hold a meeting here!" Just after dark a guard came and
said, "We are ready for the meeting to begin. Come on." Imagine how I
felt when there alone before hundreds of men in rags and tatters, with
hands and faces so black and grimy with coal dust (this being in a
prison mining camp) that I could scarcely tell the white men from the
colored! The building was low and dirty, the men were seated on rude
benches, the guards standing with their guns in hand and many great
strong bloodhounds by their sides. The room was dimly lighted by three
smoky old lanterns hanging on the walls. I had conducted prayer
meetings in the church, led in temperance meetings, and labored with
church people in the cities, and had been a Sabbath school teacher for
years; but I had never before faced a congregation such as I now saw
before me. I knelt in silent prayer before stepping upon the rough old
box upon which I was to stand while I spoke. I arose and sang an
old-time hymn, and again knelt and offered prayer. I told God all
about why I was there. I sang another hymn, but could go no farther.
All eyes were fixed upon me, and I asked, "Is there one Christian
here? If so please raise your hand." I stood trembling and thought,
"Must I stand all alone here with no one to pray for me, or encourage
me in my labor for the Master?" At last one old colored man timidly
raised his hand, followed by another, and then another. How I thank
God even now for this--after all these years of toil as a prison
worker. Then, I was soon lost in the theme of Jesus and His love. I
seemed to see those rough prison miners as dear children once more in
the old home at mother's knee at night-fall listening to her "Now I
lay me down to sleep." As I closed, seeing that the Lord had spoken to
many hearts by His Holy Spirit, I asked who would kneel with me in
prayer and begin a new life. I think every prisoner bowed there before
God with the heavy prisoners' chains clanking as only such can do. The
sound is inexpressibly sad to me even now after so many years of labor
in prisons and the rattling of the great keys in the hand of the guard
and the sound of the heavy iron doors as they open and close,
receiving "some mother's boy," are still as affecting to me as in
those early days of my prison work.
Many of these men on that night in humility and meekness sought and
confessed Christ as their Savior. I know not how many who knelt with
me there, I shall meet in heaven; but I know that God has said His
Word shall not return unto Him void. "He that goeth forth and weepeth,
bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
bringing his sheaves with him."
At the close of the service an officer informed me that his wife had
prepared to entertain me. I gladly accepted of the kind offer and went
to their humble home, greatly enjoying their hospitality, for I was
much exhausted and very weary with the long journey, the anxiety and
the labor of the day. These remained my faithful friends while I knew
them. I thank God for those who open their homes to the children of
the Lord.
The next morning the lady said, "I will let my little girl go with you
to the funeral and to show you the way through the mountains to visit
the sick." So I went again to the miserable home of the poor little
ones who were left worse than orphans. How my heart was filled with
sorrow, seeing the lonely helpless children, two boys and a beautiful
little girl, with mother dead, and father in prison! I wondered what
their future might be. A few mountaineers' wives had assembled, but
there were not enough men present to lift the box that contained the
corpse into the old coal wagon. After the short, sad services, with my
assistance as a pall bearer the crude coffin was lifted into the
wagon, and I helped to steady it as we traveled over the rough
mountain road to the cemetery. I had double duty caring for this and
making sure that the husband and father did not attempt to escape; for
you know liberty is sweet. The Lord of hosts must have kept him true
to his promise, and I must say that I can always trust the poor
prisoners not to betray the confidence I place in them. At the grave I
sang the old hymn. "I would not live always" and we laid the faithful
wife and mother away to rest until the trumpet shall call the dead to
rise.
What was the cause of the sad plight of this family? Sin. The saloon!
There had been a saloon fight, and some one was killed. Some one did
the deed. Oh, God! What a reckoning there will be in the end for those
who vote to license the saloon, as well as they who dispense the rum,
God will open the books and all shall be judged out of the things that
are written therein. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord
of hosts." This faithful wife and mother had spent all her living in
an attempt to secure the liberty of her husband. But failing in this,
she had come with her children to live in that dreary place, hoping to
be able to lead him to a better life, finally dying in want, and of a
broken heart. After the funeral I pleaded with the little girl to go
with me. But she true to her trust, true to her dead mother's loyalty,
said, "Never will I leave my poor father with no one to care for him.
Mother never would, I never will. I will go to see him and tell him of
Jesus."
Wearied with toil and the journeying from place to place to visit the
sick to whom the little girl from the camp had guided me, I returned
in the evening with her to her home and then to the camp. Thinking to
lie down and take some rest, and kneeling to pray, I was impressed
that I must visit the other stockade some two or three miles away. I
knew it was the voice of God and said, "Yes." The lady strongly
pleading that I must not go, that it was dangerous, said I could not
go alone, that I would lose my way, etc. The husband also said one's
life was in danger, that several men were found dead in those
mountains and no one knew who killed them, etc., and pleaded with me
not to go. But I said, "If God sends me, He will see that I am not
harmed. He will not forsake me." Soon I started on my way, and
presently met the two little boys whose mother had just been buried. I
asked if one of them would not show me the way to the other camp, and
the older one kindly did so. With my little guide we hurried down that
rough mountain side, we being compelled to carry stones to build a
bridge across a stream of water, and finally came within sight of the
camp. Upon insisting that God had sent me, and that I had held
services in the other camp, the captain (overseer) invited me into his
home. I had not expected such kindness, but thanking the Lord I
accepted it as from Him. They kindly brought us food, but I would not
eat, and gave it all to the little boy who was so hungry, and praying
for him he started homeward. Here also we had a wonderful meeting. Men
with broken hearts wept with longing for a mother's sympathy and a
Savior's love. Some came to Christ and were saved, and I believe that
I shall meet some of them in the great home gathering bye and bye in
heaven.
Early the following morning, I was told that the engine which was to
take me on my way was ready to start with its train of coal cars for
the station some ten miles distant; but that I would have time to
visit the hospital department where many were lying sick. I hurried
through the prison yard, filled with hogs and bloodhounds, to the
hospital, where I sang a song and prayed. I was turning to go when a
guard came running and said, "The whole train is waiting for you,
hurry up." As I was hurrying out a door opened and a woman called, "Do
come and see my son, he is dying. Do come and pray for him." I ran in
saying, "The train may go; I dare not refuse the request." I grasped
the dying boy's hand firmly and said, "Take hold on God as I take hold
of your hand. He will not forsake you. He will save you; look and
live." I offered a short prayer and ran down to the engine, which
still waited. There was something seeming so dismal in its sound in
those lonely regions. I had to ride on the engine, as there was
nothing but coal flats on this train. I was helped on and we were off.
The sun was just rising over the mountain and the heavy fog was
beginning to rise, and oh, such a blessing I received as we sped along
the winding way! I shall never forget the gloomy sight I left behind
me there. The poor prison-bound men marching out to the mines with
their lanterns on their caps and with their picks and shovels. They
never seemed so dear to me, and I began to see more clearly than ever
that God had a special work for me to do. I saw the value of a soul
bought with the precious blood of Christ. I saw, too, the need of
fully consecrated Christian workers. As we wound around the mountain
side I knew I had been obedient to my God, and His Spirit bore witness
with my spirit that He accepted my weak efforts.
DIFFICULTIES OVERCOME.
I was not always kindly received as mentioned in some instances. We
are not carried to heaven upon flowery beds of ease. I have many times
been refused the privilege even of singing a hymn in a prison. My
singing has often been blessed as a means of touching hearts, and
through it souls have been converted and are still true to God. I went
to visit another prison mining camp or stockade, in a very lonely
region where few people lived. I arrived upon a dark, gloomy night;
there was no depot and not a house near. There I was alone, yet not
alone, for God was with me. A young mulatto man who proved to be an
ex-convict, had come to the train with a lantern, and I asked him to
kindly show me the way to the home of the captain of the camp. I found
the officer had gone in search of a prisoner who had made his escape,
and his wife refused to take any one in in her husband's absence. She
said I should go to another officer some distance away. Ascending the
steps to the large house my heart sank within me, for I felt that I
should be turned away again in the night. The officer himself came to
the door to answer my call. Telling him my mission, I asked to stay
with them till morning. His wife would not consent to entertain me,
and I answered, "Where shall I go? I am alone, and a Christian woman
sent of God to help people in prison to a better life." He replied,
"There's a boarding house a mile away down the mountain," and the door
was shut. I asked my guide, "Is there not one Christian here in these
mountains?" He said, "Only one, a poor old colored man, that's been in
prison, and he lives up the mountain with his daughter, a young
woman." Crying as I went along holding to the brush with one hand, we
finally reached the hut at the top of the mountain. I told the young
woman my story and asked if I might stay with her for the night. She
answered, "No, my father is away and I cannot take in a stranger
without his consent." "Then I must stay out on the mountain alone all
night." She seemed sorry for me, and said I should wait till her
father came. I had not to wait long till he came, and kindly consented
for me to stay. I was weary and hungry from my long journey. I saw the
old colored man open the basket he had brought home with him. It
contained some cold food given him where he was employed. He asked me
to share his lunch, but I refused, as I believed he needed all he had.
How thankful I was for shelter in that poor hut that night, though
sleeping by my side was that poor unfortunate colored girl with a babe
in her arms that cried all the night. There were cracks in the hut
through which you could see the stars. What a change the Lord had
wrought in the once proud woman that I had been! I remembered that
Jesus said, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but
the Son of man hath not where to lay his head." And "The disciple is
not above his master." I spent the night in prayer and God heard my
cries for the poor convicts who were cruelly starved and beaten by the
drunken guards and captain who seemed to bitterly hate all who were so
helplessly bound under them. This is a strong statement but I will
meet it at the Judgment.
In the morning one woman who had turned me from her door sent to find
out what had become of me. She said she would give the young woman who
had sheltered me a present for not leaving me out on the mountain
alone. I had prayed earnestly that God would convict her for her lack
of hospitality. Upon going to the officer to learn when I could have
a meeting with the prisoners, he unkindly turned me away saying that I
should _never_ have a meeting there, and that I might as well go.
Well, I did go; traveling eighty miles back to the capital,
Montgomery, Alabama, to see the Governor. I knew the Lord had sent me,
and how could I meet Him at the Judgment and tell Him I had failed? I
knew, too, that Satan had hindered. I asked for the Governor but was
told that the President of the Board of Prison Inspectors was the
proper person for me to see about the matter. He was sent for and soon
came. He was a very kind old gentleman and sat down and asked me what
I wished. When I had related the facts he said, "Who dare refuse you
holding meetings in that prison camp? You go back there and hold your
meeting. I'll write him a letter and let him hear from me." I said,
"But he will say he did not receive your letter." He then said he
would write a letter for me to present to him. But, how should I get
back to the camp? After selling my trunk and such articles of clothing
as I could spare, I yet did not have enough money to pay railway fare.
MY FIRST FREE PASS.
Trusting the Lord to in some way provide means for me to get back to
the camp, I went to the janitress of the depot, an intelligent
mulatto, and told her of my need, as she had previously assisted me in
securing half-fare rates on the railroad, she having known the
officials since their childhood. She insisted that I should go to the
office of the general manager of the L. & N. R. R. and ask for a
half-fare rate to the prison camp at New Castle, Ala. Oh, how I
dreaded to go to that office! But tremblingly and prayerfully I went,
and presenting to him the letter which I was to carry with me to the
camp, I told him my desires. Upon reading this letter he handed me
what I supposed was a half-fare permit. I humbly thanked him and
returned to my lodging. After making preparation to start early in the
morning on my journey, before retiring for the night I knelt by my
bedside to thank God for the permit. Thinking I would see just how it
read before I prayed, I took it up and began reading, "Pass Mrs.
_Elizabeth R. Wheaton_ From _Montgomery_ to _Birmingham, Ala., Prison,
Missionary_." What! Did my eyes deceive me, or was it a mistake. No.
It was a free pass, and the following note was enclosed to the
Superintendent at the other end of the route regarding a return pass
if I should ask for it:
Louisville & Nashville Railroad Co.,
Montgomery, Ala., Jan. 15, 1885.
L. Hage, Esq., Supt., Birmingham, Ala.
Dear Sir: This lady, Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, bears credentials
showing her to be a prison missionary. Any courtesy you may
extend to her, in the way of pass, will be properly applied.
Yours truly,
M. S. BELKNAP, Supt.
Oh, how I did thank God for this manifestation of His goodness to
me--doing above that which I could ask or think! Mr. Belknap, that
kind R. R. officer, has been dead many years, and perhaps is forgotten
by some who knew him better than I, but I shall never forget his
unexpected kindness to me. Since then, through the goodness of God and
the favor and confidence of the railroad officials, I have received
transportation throughout the country, to carry the Gospel of Jesus to
men and women of every class.
Upon my return to the prison camp I asked for the officer and told him
I had come to hold meeting for the prisoners. I suppose he had
received word from the Governor's office, as he so readily consented,
asking at what hour I would like to have the service. I thought best
to wait till the following day (Sunday) for the services, that I might
have sufficient time for my work. The Lord came in mighty power that
Sabbath day as I sang the old time hymns, and asked God to forgive and
help those precious souls. The Spirit gave me utterance and carried
the truth to the hearts of the hearers. Sobs and groans were heard
from men in tears who sought forgiveness and gave God their hearts. At
the close I took each one by the hand and exhorted them to be faithful
to God. I afterwards visited the sick and talked and prayed with them,
exhorting them to seek a home in heaven where sin can never come, and
where God wipes away all tears. How true the words,
"Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter,
Feelings lie buried that grace can restore;
Touched by a loving heart, wakened by kindness,
Chords that were broken will vibrate once more."
One Sunday morning I was going to a prison camp to hold meeting. There
was no way to get there excepting to walk through the deep mud. There
were a couple of boys going towards the stockade leading an old mule.
I said, "O, boys, CAN'T I RIDE THAT MULE?" "Certainly," they said. It
was with difficulty that I mounted the novel conveyance, and that I
remained on the mule's back. For some reason, I was filled with
apprehension. I had an impression that there was danger. I asked the
boys if they would not lead the animal, but they kept a good distance
from it, saying that they wanted to keep out of the mud.
When we reached the camp and the officers came out and helped me to
dismount, they looked at me in great astonishment, and one of them
said, "What a narrow escape you have made! I only wonder that you got
here alive. It is a wonder that old mule didn't kill you. I wonder
that the boys let you take it!" I learned that the animal was so
utterly uncontrollable and vicious that they could only use him on a
dump cart to carry the prisoners' dinner or something of the sort and
then he would sometimes kick the cart all to pieces.
I raised my heart in thanksgiving to God, knowing that He who stopped
the lion's mouth and held the flames of the fiery furnace had in some
way kept this ugly creature from doing me any harm and saved my life.