LUCY'S LETTER--THE SCHOOL TEACHER.
On July 29, I received several letters, one of which is well worth
copying:
Beth-Adriel, San Jose, July 27, 1904.
Mrs. Florence Roberts, Dear Mother:
I wrote you a letter several days ago, but have had no answer to it as
yet, but thought I would write again, as it seems so long since I saw
or heard from you.
I wrote and told you all about my trip to San Francisco, and what a
good time I had [on that occasion she visited the jail where she was
once a prisoner and where she was converted on or about Feb. 14, 1903],
but I presume you have been very busy, or you would have answered.
Well, I can praise God for some wonderful victories, and I do praise
him every day. Just last night I was talking to our matron [Mother
Weatherwax] and saying how perfectly wonderful his strength was; for it
is his strength, and not mine, that has kept me up and is still
keeping--me up from day to day.
The home is full now.... We have one case of clear-cut answer to
prayer, where it just took real faith to hold on. But isn't it just
like our dear, good heavenly Father to do and answer just the
impossible. It was a case of abduction and attempted seduction of a
lovely Christian girl, the daughter of a Free Methodist minister, into
a terrible house of ill-fame, one of those notorious road-houses, and
it was such a filthy, vile place, that the chief of police [Carroll]
would not let Mother W---- and another lady go with the officers and
the lady's husband after the girl. Thank God, He gave us the law on our
side, and we have the girl here safe and well and doing fine; and I can
say the same for all of the rest of us girls.
The girl referred to had come from her Eastern home to southern
California for her health. As her means were limited, she sought
employment, and one day answered an attractive advertisement for a
housekeeper for an invalid lady. A favorable reply, urging her to come
at once, quickly came, stating that in the event of her paying her fare
it would be refunded on her arrival, also that she would be met at the
San Jose depot by a lady wearing a bunch of red roses on her left
breast.
When she arrived, she was welcomed and taken in a hack to the awful
place of which Lucy wrote. She managed to write a note with a match
stem, wrapped the paper round a small piece of rock which she found in
the room where she was imprisoned, and prayerfully threw them through
the grating: toward a man who was watering his horses at the trough and
who evidently knew the nature of this notorious resort. Praise God, the
stone did not miss its mark. The man was wise enough to notify the
authorities, and that place was compelled to go out of business in
short order.
I have not been able to go to church for three weeks now, but God is
here at home with me, and I am learning more of him every day. My verse
for today was Ezek. 34:12, and I think it is so beautiful, especially
about the dark and cloudy days.
We went to Alum Rock [a beautiful resort adjacent to San Jose] three
weeks ago Thursday, and I got so badly poisoned [poison-oak] that there
was not an inch of my body that was not covered and my eyes were
swollen shut for two days. I was sick in bed with it all day the Fourth
and here alone; but not alone, for if ever I had a happy day, it was
that. Lots of times I feel discouraged to think I can not remember the
Scriptures that I read, but it was just marvelous the way they would
roll over my mind on those two or three days that I could not see even
to read. I believe God just wanted me to see when my eyes, hands,
tongue and feet were quiet how active my mind was.
My head and throat are still very bad, and I go to the doctor about
three times a week, but still have those terrible ulcers gathering and
breaking in my head. I am so thin that I can not wear the black dress
you made me at all. Mother W---- says she is afraid something will give
way in my head one of these days. She wants me to go home for a rest,
but if I did, then Mama [her own mother] wouldn't come here for a rest,
and I want her to have a rest, and then, too, I would have to ask them
to send me money to go home on. [Lucy's services were gratuitous.]
Just the other day I was reading how much Delia did for the Lord in her
short Christian life [Before conversion known as the "Blue Bird" of
Mulberry Bend of New York], and it has made me feel bad; for here I
have been saved over a year, and what have I done? It is said that she
had over six hundred souls in three months, and I can not claim one
that I know of. I know that I have tried to be what God would have me
be, if ever a girl did try. [Indeed, indeed you have, dear child, and
God smiles on you for it.]
There is one thing sure. I have prayed a great deal for you lately for
ever since two weeks ago Tuesday night, which was our prayer-meeting
night of course, I had a real hard fight with Satan, and he had tried
to get the better of my better self, and Miss Sisson came and told of
your being at a house to see the landlady and then of your going back
in a few days to preach the funeral services over the dead body of one
of the girls [suicide]. Oh, how it helped me to see what I had been
spared from and how much I had to praise God for! and it also showed me
how many prayers you needed to help you in your work, and so I have
held you up more than ever before His throne, and maybe if I can not
reap myself, I can pray for those that are in the field.
God has been so good that all through my sickness I have missed but two
days' work, that is, there were but two days that I was not able to get
the meals (all of them). It is perfectly wonderful, the strength,
willingness, and determination He will give us if we but want it.
Sometimes lately when my head has been so bad, I have thought, what if
I should be taken now. It would be grand to go home; but I have talked
with Mother W---- so much lately, and I do not feel I could go till I
have done something for Him who did so much for me. Pray for me,
Mother, that I may get better and do something. I want to go and tell
Mattie [a former companion in sin] and the girls, that what God has
done for me he will do for them.
I'll tell you what Doctor A---- says is the matter with me. She
examined me, tested my blood, and said it was not in the system from
disease of myself, but that sometime, when my throat was sore, I
inhaled the germs from some sick person, that the throat was just in
the condition for them to germinate, and now my throat and ear are
eaten out terribly. [Cigarette-smoking the probable cause ] She hasn't
said she couldn't cure me, but that it will take a year's solid and
continuous treatment, without any neglectfulness whatsoever.
Oh! isn't it true that if we sow to the flesh, we must reap corruption.
I know that I did, and am willing to suffer the pain and endure if I
can only tell others--yes--warn them. But I know that I can not do it
away from here until I can do it better here, so I want more courage to
do it better here.
Mania doesn't know much about my throat, only what Mother W---- wrote
her that tune.
Oh! this is an awfully long letter, so I must close it. I am nervous
and can't write well.
Pray for us, as we pray for you. Everybody sends you their love, and
God bless you.
Your daughter in faith, Lucy ----.
How I loved to receive her appreciative, newsy letters! but oh, how
they saddened me as I more than ever realized the truth of that
statement that "whatsoever we sow, that shall we also reap," Gal. 6:7.
But one more incident and story before we leave Eureka.
One day, on one of my house-to-house visits, and following considerable
disappointment, for so few were at home, or else the inmates did not
want to receive me, I at last received a response from a frail-looking
woman of about twenty-four years of age, who said, "I should very much
like to have a heart-to-heart talk with you, but this is no place for
it. Can you come to my private room in the ---- ---- lodging-house. Go
to room No. --, first floor at 1:30 tomorrow, where we can converse
undisturbed."
At the appointed time I was kindly received, and soon I was listening
to her troubles; but before rehearsing them she called my attention to
a framed diploma on her wall, a teacher's certificate.
"Have you taught school?" I inquired.
She simply answered, "Yes."
"Are you not taking great chances by having that where strangers can
see it?" I asked.
"No," she replied; "I do my own work, and have a patent lock, so that
none but my husband and me have access to this room."
I was still more at sea. Over the head of her bed hung a picture which
I never shall forget. Let me endeavor to describe it:
The beautiful nude form of a young woman lay on a couch. Horror was
depicted upon her countenance, and she was frantically but vainly
struggling to free herself from the great boa-constrictor which had
coiled his ugly thick body about her. Standing beside her and looking
on with a dreadful expression of devilish satisfaction was a
representation of Satan, whilst coming in at the open door reeled a
young man in a woeful state of intoxication.
The old, old dreadful story! When, oh! when will they ever profit by
this only too true picture, being really enacted every day, every hour,
by some mother's wandering girl?
Would that I might be able to tell you that this ex-school-teacher
yielded to our Lord and Savior, but alas! that boa-constrictor had too
firm a grip on her. Listen to her story:
"Less than four years ago, I was a happy young woman, living with my
parents in the South, in a modest but very happy home, and surrounded
by loving friends.
"My downfall dates from a picnic. I was exceedingly fond of dancing,
with no ill effect from indulging in what hitherto I had regarded as a
most innocent pastime, but that day I was introduced to one who
peculiarly affected me. Why, I used to laugh to scorn, and express
contempt for, any one who could be so very weak as to succumb to evil
influences through the dance, never dreaming that my day of doom would
come.
"How I loved him! and how I hugged my secret! At least, so I thought;
but he read me, read me like a book. He was a traveling man, and showed
me many excellent letters. I told my parents, who felt interested, and
the next thing I was enjoying his company in our home, where he made
himself very agreeable to the old people. Soon I was attending several
social functions, some at his invitation, particularly where there was
dancing, for I loved to feel his arms about me, his breath on my cheek.
"A day came when, for love of him, I bartered my soul. The remorse
which soon followed was so deep that I took what little money I had,
stole away from home, and my relatives haven't seen or heard from me
since, although I hear of them through a trusted friend, who has
promised not to further bruise the old folks' hearts by letting them
know of my downfall or whereabouts. I'm dead to them forever; dead to
them forever!"
* * * * *
"I was the supposed wife of my first love for over a year. How I begged
him to marry me! but he only laughed and asked if I wanted to have him
arrested for bigamy. Then he left me.
"My baby was born dead. Thank God for that! and now as soon as able, I
must move on.
"Some of these girls on the downward path are so kind-hearted, Mrs.
Roberts."
"Yes, Saidie, I know it well," I said. "I've been their friend for
several years, and I know many of them and their good traits and deeds;
but pardon me for interrupting." "I drifted from place to place," she
continued; "now I'm here--here facing an awful future. No God, no home,
sick in body and soul, not fit to live and certainly not fit to die."
"How happened it that you met the man you called your husband, Saidie?"
I asked.
"Just as nine-tenths of them do," she replied. "We take up with some
one who is seemingly kind. It's an awful mistake. _They profit at our
expense every day_. They take our earnings of sin, and are often brutal
besides," she sobbed.
"But does not the vagrancy law protect you?" I asked.
"No; not so long as they can prove they are working," she answered. "He
is a bar-tender."
"Saidie, I want you to leave this life," I pleaded. Come with me, dear.
I will treat you as though you were in deed and in truth my own
daughter.
"Listen, I will even go further; you shall travel with me. I need an
amanuensis and secretary. I am overworked, dear. Say you will, and I
will make all the necessary arrangements."
How I begged her to consent! I wanted to take her then and there, but,
_unfortunately, no one I knew would harbor, even temporarily, such a
girl, until I was ready to leave--not one_. I could linger no longer
that day, excepting for short earnest prayer, in which she took no
part. We agreed to meet the following day at noon in a certain
restaurant, where we could enjoy privacy. She kept the appointment, but
something--I could only conjecture--something had cooled her ardor. I
apparently made very little headway with the Master's message. She was
silent, obdurate, and she soon left. The next day I followed her up,
only to learn from the scrub-woman that Saidie was intoxicated. Again I
called; for I was to take the next steamer, and felt I must make one
more effort in her behalf. I was told that she had received bad news,
that she was drinking deeper than ever to drown her misery, and that it
would be worse than useless to see her. After returning to San Jose, I
wrote a renewal of my offer, but received no reply. In all probability
poor Saidie, _another victim of the dance_, now lies in one of the
nameless graves.