Rescue Work.
A Mother's Plea for Her Fallen Daughter.
So tenderly reared in the pure country air,
So innocent, gracious and true,
A sweet loving daughter, so gentle and fair.
Of the great wicked world naught she knew,
She roamed on the hillside and plucked the sweet flowers,
Nor far from my sight did she stray,
Till a shy cunning charmer invaded her bowers,
And stole my loved treasure away.
With words fair and lovely he won her young heart,
Then wooed her far from the home nest,
Then hastily pressed to the city's great mart,
My darling he tore from my breast;
So simple, confiding, ne'er dreaming of harm.
She laid her young life at his feet,
And the foul, venomed viper pierced her heart with a thorn,
And left her to die in the street.
All wounded and bleeding and covered with shame,
And knowing not wither to go,
In the haunts of the vilest she cringed her away,
To hide her disgrace and her woe;
Could I know she had gone from this cold, cruel world,
My grief would be easy to bear,
But to satiate vile passions her life-blood is sold,
And my broken heart pleads in my prayer.
Oh, bring back my darling, a poor bruised thing,
The victim of Satan's deceit,
O tell her I love her, though cursed by the fiend
That crushed her to hell 'neath his feet.
O pity my daughter, my poor fallen one,
Ye who have daughters so fair,
And shield not the monster who spoiled my loved one
And drove my poor heart to despair.
Chicago, Ill.
--MARY WEEMS CHAPMAN.
For some years I have been quite intimately associated with friends
who have, perhaps, the largest Rescue Home in the world. I am told
that they have taken in more girls than any other Home of the kind.
Over 1,250 girls have there been confined and never have they lost
one of these young mothers by death. But, oh, it is a sad sight to see
them, day after day carrying their load of sorrow in their hearts.
Often when I am there, as I manifest toward them my love and sympathy,
they tell me their story of woe sad as was the cry of Eve when
banished from the presence of God. She yielded to Satan's devices
because she believed the voice of Satan rather than the voice of God.
She became an outcast--and so our sisters are still being deceived by
the devil in human form and become outcasts from all that is good.
Some of them have been won by a mess of pottage, a mere bauble or a
gewgaw. Others have the promise of love--that which every human heart
craves. These believe, trust, yield and are ruined and some of them
are so young! so ignorant! Then there are some who have been basely
betrayed or brutally forced and then left to bear alone their shame
and disgrace--for, alas! the "traffic in girls" is not an imaginary
thing, but an awful reality.
O that the good people of our fair land would awaken and see that
justice is done in behalf of the helpless and innocent! Prevention is
better than cure. Let us guard the children and put down every
influence that would tend to demoralize either our boys or girls! But
in the meantime, let us do all within our power to lift up the fallen
and win back those who have gone astray and share the burden and
sorrow of those who suffer through no fault of their own.
Those who have been daring in sin often make the most gifted,
consecrated and valiant workers for God and souls when truly and fully
saved. I bless the Lord for the privilege of seeking and finding some
of these "diamonds in the rough." I have known many Christian workers
who had once been criminals or fallen, but who had been rescued by
some one who had a knowledge of human nature and a heart filled with
the love of God who told them of the love of Christ and His wonderful
power to save. O when we all meet in the great Hereafter what a time
of rejoicing there will be among the rescuers and the rescued.
DRUNKEN WOMEN AND MEN.
I find hundreds of men and women, many young women, in drunkenness and
crime, and the most open daring sins. In one of the largest drinking
dens in the world I asked the proprietor if I might sing a hymn, and
he gave his consent. I was obliged to go down stairs and through many
rooms and hallways and then up a dark stairway to the platform where
the orchestra was playing. When they ceased I sang a hymn which
touched their hearts and they cheered the singing. I offered a prayer
and they all seemed to appreciate it. There were hundreds of _men_
only, drinking, miners and others. Then I went where there were both
men and women drinking, and sang and prayed with them. At near
midnight, while I was engaged in prayer, one of the poor, unfortunate
girls clasped my hand and put a piece of silver in it, and stood
holding my hand till I rose. She cried and spoke of her desire to be
good. She was reminded of her old home and her mother. The proprietor
then told me I must leave, as he found he would lose her from his den.
He said he was once a Christian himself, and on coming west, saw the
money to be made in that kind of business, and fell, and went deep in
sin, leading others down with himself.
ASSAULTED IN A DIVE.
While in San Pedro, California, I went, one night, into a saloon to
invite the men to a gospel meeting at the mission on the same block,
and the keeper sprang up from his gambling table, where he was engaged
with several others in a game of some kind, and rushing towards me,
violently grabbed me by the arms, and then with both hands clutching
me, rushed me to the door, using vile and insulting epithets to me as
he went. At the door a lady said, "This is a public house; you dare
not throw people out who have done you no harm." He finally released
his Satanic grasp upon me. I had only spoken a few kindly words to two
young men standing at the bar in the act of raising their glasses to
their lips. I had just said, "Don't drink it, boys, please don't,"
when the assault was made. As the saloonist rushed at me, I said,
"Don't touch me, please; I will go out." But he seemed fiendishly
happy in injuring and insulting a helpless old woman, who only wished
to do them all good, and see them saved in Heaven at last. The only
excuse he ever made was that he thought I was Carrie Nation.
Commenting on this occurrence, a Los Angeles paper contained the
following item:
San Pedro, March 29.--"Mother" Wheaton, a well known prison
evangelist, was roughly assaulted by John Wilkins, a Front street
saloonkeeper, shortly after seven o'clock last evening. Mrs.
Wheaton was preaching to a large gathering in front of Wilkins'
joint, and hearing loud cursing within, the aged reformer
entered, intending to invite the blasphemers to Peniel Mission,
where services are held every evening. She had scarcely passed
inside the doors of the dive, when Wilkins rushed forward, seized
her and thrust her backward. At the same time he applied vile
epithets to her, shouting angrily: "Get out of here, woman, and
be quick about it!"
So badly was Mrs. Wheaton injured that she was unable to return
to the mission without assistance. She is confined to her bed and
is suffering severe pains from the shock.
Wilkins explained today that he mistook Mrs. Wheaton for Carrie
Nation, whom the former resembles. No arrests have been made.
In a city where I had been preaching the Gospel, a messenger came
stating that a young girl had cut her throat. It was an extremely hot
day and I had to walk a long distance across the city. Arriving at the
house they told me that no one was allowed to go in. But I went right
in and everybody stood back. Kneeling down by the poor girl I took her
hand already growing cold in death. Poor child! Like thousands of
others, she had been disappointed in life. The one who had plighted
his troth had broken her heart, and rather than bear her shame she
preferred death. Then and there I had the privilege of pointing this
beautiful girl to Christ who said, "Neither do I condemn thee. Go and
sin no more," and He who never turns anyone away heard and answered
prayer.
One day I held a meeting in the Crittenden Home for Fallen Girls, in
Washington. They all seemed so glad to hear me. (There were thirty
girls.) They were deeply moved. After the meeting closed I took each
by the hand and exhorted them to live pure and holy lives. And with
tears in their eyes they promised to try and serve the Lord. One dear
little girl in a short dress (fourteen years old), clung to me crying,
and said Jesus had saved her just then, in the meeting, and she would
be a good girl and live for Heaven. I clasped her to my heart and
thought what Jesus said about him who offends "one of these little
ones." Some heartless wretch had ruined the girl and left her to die
alone. "Vengeance is _mine_, _I_ will repay, saith the Lord."
A GIRL SAVED.
Trying to rescue a girl in a low dive in New York city in 1890, as I
entered the den the keeper, a large, strong man, sprang up and struck
me a blow. The girl caught his arm and cried out, "Don't strike her,
she is a lady." But he thrust me out, and I said to her, "Fly for your
life--out at the back door." I ran around the saloon and caught her
away from an angry mob and with the help of the sisters with me,
almost carried her six blocks to the Crittenden Home, and there she
was reformed and converted.
A GIRL REJECTED AT RESCUE HOME.
In Ft. Worth, Texas, I once found in the jail a poor girl who was a
very desperate character. She had been at the Rescue Home several
times, and she was so very wicked that they refused to have her there
again. They said it was of no use trying to reclaim her. I well
remember the night that the Lord sent me to the jail to hold a
meeting. The service was held after dark, as the prisoners were
compelled to work during the day. I was intensely grieved and very
much burdened over the case of this poor girl. So intelligent, yet so
sinful! In my grief, I fell upon the floor weeping over her lost
condition.
A sister who was with me, and on her way then to India, prayed for me
as well as for the poor prisoners, and the lost girl. The meeting
closed, and the next day we left the city, the sister going west,
while I started north.
After we left Ft. Worth, my heart was still sad and greatly pained for
the poor lost girl I had seen in the jail and I wrote to the
superintendent of the Rescue Home and pleaded with her to try her just
once more--not only for my sake, but for the sake of Jesus. She did
so, and the result was that the girl was saved and began a life of
virtue and usefulness.
A year or so later, I was again at Ft. Worth, and was holding
services in the Girls' Rescue Home. As they assembled for the meeting
I shook hands with each of them. I said of one of the girls to the
matron, "This girl looks like a good Christian--who is she?" The girl
herself replied, "Don't you know me, mother?" I said, "No." Then she
answered, "I am the girl you rescued from the prison;" and the matron
said that she was the best girl in the home. I went back after another
year, and she was the matron's assistant. Still later the
superintendent told me that she was a deaconess in New York, and was
doing a great work. This same lady told me how she had shortly before
come across my letter in which I begged her mother-in-law, who was the
former superintendent, to help the girl and give her just one more
chance! Oh, how wonderfully God had answered my prayers and the
yearning of my heart that night when the burden of her soul rested so
heavily upon me!
ROBBED BY HER OWN BROTHER.
A lovely girl was once drugged by her deceiver and left to bear her
shame alone. She was led to a rescue home where she was cared for.
Sometime after the birth of her child, which she dearly loved, her
father died, and left her $1,000. She was induced by her brother to
come to the city where he was living, and give him the money, which he
and his wife used recklessly. They then moved, leaving the poor girl
sitting on the steps without money enough even to buy milk for her
babe. The poor girl was almost distracted with grief. I found her a
temporary home with Christian people and a little later secured
transportation for her to a rescue home in another city where she
could be kindly provided for.
In that hour of despair, when I found her, she was almost ready to
yield to the enemy of her soul, through temptation of the same wretch
who had first effected her ruin. She could go hungry herself, she
said, but she could not see her babe suffer for want of food.
Sisters, let us try by all possible means to befriend our own sex and
help all who are thrown in our way, heavenward.
NEGLECTED BY THE CHURCHES.
I once went to a city where there are many churches and professors of
religion, and yet there in the Home for Fallen Girls, where I held
services I found the inmates neglected. I then went to the poorhouse
where over a hundred poor and crippled destitute people were so glad
to hear me sing hymns while they partook of their dinner. They seemed
to wonder who and what I was, yet, how glad they were when they
understood it was for the love of their souls Jesus had sent me to
tell them of His great love. Thank God for the privilege of going to
these places. God always finds a way when there seems to be no way.
So I must say in concluding that of all those who have my sympathy and
my help, my prayers and my tears, prisoners, and all, the poor,
abandoned, forsaken girl, who has no one to share her sorrow and her
shame claims and receives my deepest sympathy and assistance. There is
no one on whom Jesus had more compassion and yet the croakers are
often the ones to send her to worse shame by their neglect and
cruelty. Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more."
"She is more to be pitied than censured,
She is more to be loved than despised,
She is only a poor girl who has ventured
On life's rugged path ill-advised.
Don't scorn her with words fierce and bitter,
Don't laugh at her shame and downfall;
Just pause for a moment, consider
That a man was the cause of it all."
VISIT TO A HOSPITAL.
One Sunday, years ago, I visited a hospital in a certain city and
found it in a most terrible condition. There were many sick, both men
and women, and how glad they were to see me! The public were not
permitted inside the grounds, but the superintendent being absent I
was admitted. The patients were suffering with hunger, and were in a
most filthy condition.
I found both colored men and women in the same room and all covered
with body lice. One old colored woman was almost eaten alive with
vermin, and starving. They would not give her even a drink of water. I
gave her water and she drank a quart and begged for more. I asked her
if she would like to have me bring her something to eat. She said,
"Oh, yes, Honey." I said, "What can you eat?" She said, "A crust of
bread--I's so hungry, been hungry so long."
My heart was sick at the sights and sounds of suffering and anguish. I
told the Lord about it. All night I cried and prayed. I got up early,
got a large, fat chicken, made soup, got provisions and a couple to
help me carry the things, and went to that miserable place. I got
access to the building with my food and all got a share. I never will
forget the looks on the faces of those starving sufferers, and the
tears coursing down their wan, pale cheeks, as I and dear Mary, my
helper, fed them. One poor old white brother said he was ashamed to
have us near him.
I took along clothing for the poor old colored woman, and had to take
the scissors and cut the garment off from her, and put it in the
stove. I found the mattress decaying under her.
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 institution. 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. Shirey, 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 God to the poor prisoners. She lives by faith and trusts Him
for all.
God bless you.
MOTHER PRINDLE.
[Illustration: 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 God has called
and endowed with special gifts for a grand and noble work. Her
one strong hold is faith in God. 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. God
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
God's flaming minister, sowing beside all waters, singing and
praying poor sin-sick, tempest-tossed souls into the kingdom of
God. 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 God 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 God," 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 God again used her to bring Mrs. Chapman and
me to God'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 God 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.