Prisons and Prayer; Or, a Labor of Love

by Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton

I was asked who we were, and replied, "We have come from America to preach the gospel." After cross-questioning and severely reprimanding me they asked if I would hold my peace if they would let me go. I answered, "I do not wish to disregard your request, but I must obey God, for that is why I am here. And according to your law it is no crime to hold open-air services; and it is a custom with the churches." "Then we will put you into the cell." Another said, "No, we cannot do that for this offense." Then he said I should be gone. I said, "Will you not send an officer to show us the way to our lodging, as you have arrested us without a cause and it is late at night?" But they refused to send a guide. I asked if they would give me the name of the policeman who arrested us, and told them the matter was not yet ended; that they did not know with whom they were dealing. At first they refused to give me the names asked for; but I said I should stay till they did so, and I prevailed. When we had started to try to find our way to our lodging place, we met a lady who kindly directed us to the street and number.

On Monday a sister who had been preaching among the policemen for some years, called to see me—having heard of my arrest and treatment. She was much surprised and said she could have those policemen all discharged for their conduct toward me. I said, "No, do not do that; I only want to see them and talk to them about their souls' salvation." "Then," she replied, "I will have them come and ask your forgiveness." As she started away, I handed her some recommendations and railroad passes I had had in America and letters of introduction to parties in that land. Glancing over them she exclaimed, "Is it possible? A lady with such a recommend! These letters are addressed to some of the best people in Great Britain. Will you trust me with these till I return?" "Certainly," I replied. She returned in due time, saying the policemen would come and make an apology. I was very glad, for I felt then that I could tell them it was the love of Christ for the lost ones of earth that constrained me to speak on the streets. Many ladies called during the day to give me their sympathy and show their interest. The policeman who caused the arrest came and asked me to forgive him. He bowed with us in prayer, and sobs shook his heavy frame while his tears fell like rain. He said, "It is like mother used to talk, and it is the same kind of religion she had in olden times." I believe that man found Christ his Savior that day. He told us of his wife sick at home and two "wee bairns," and as he could get no girl at home, he had overworked; and on that Saturday night had taken too much liquor in order to keep him awake.

He invited me to call upon his family. This I did the following day, and found it as he had said. The two other men that had a part in arresting us came the following day. One of them seemed very penitent when I talked to them, and both humbly begged my pardon for their conduct toward me.

While in Glasgow I was invited by General Evans, of the Gospel Army, to conduct special services for ten nights at their hall—commonly known as the Globe Theater. We copy the following from an editorial of the General's published in his paper while we were there:

"Hearing of these evangelists we decided to invite them to Globe Theater, and truly we can say God has visited his people. They do not believe in forms and ceremonies like us formal Scotch Christians, but speak as they are moved by the Holy Ghost. They live by faith and do not ask for money or collections; however, they seem to get on very well, and I never yet heard them grumbling about having too little. They take whatever is given them as from the Lord, and give Him their sincere thanks accordingly. They have spent over a week speaking and singing every night in our meetings, and not a few have been impressed by the earnest words of our sisters. Some of the professors have had their short-comings pretty well threshed out, the writer coming in for his share. Our meetings have been well attended and I believe a really good work has been begun in our midst. The elder lady carries about with her a book full of newspaper clippings and numerous testimonials about her work in America. Her special field is in the prisons and among the unfortunates. She takes no stock in sensational worship, but there is always a great sensation wherever she puts in an appearance.... In closing I may say that our heaven-bound sisters have had some severe trials since leaving their native shores. Eternity alone will reveal the amount they have endured for the Master's sake. Before they had been many hours in Glasgow they were marched off to jail for preaching at a street corner, and gathering a crowd. I trust this epistle will open up our cold, hard hearts and that we may receive our sisters as is our duty as a Christian community."

TUMULT IN A DIVE.

"Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold the devil shall cast some of you into prison that ye may be tried; * * * Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life."—Rev. 2:10.

One Sunday night, as I was on my way going from the meeting, being in company with General Evans and his wife and the sister who traveled with me, I saw a public house open and went in and began to speak to the men and women. I had only talked a few minutes when the proprietor came in and asked, "Are you a customer here?" I replied, "No, I am only speaking to these people about their souls." He said, "Now you leave, or I'll make you." He ran into a back room, and coming out he passed me quickly, running to the door and blowing a long blast on a police whistle. This aroused the people and brought to the scene several policemen and hundreds of people of all classes in general fright. A man rushed in and catching me by the arm cried, "Come out of this place, quick, or you'll be killed. You are in danger. You don't know where you are! This is the Gallow Gate; the worst place in Glasgow." I said to him, "Let me alone, I am obeying God." But as the policemen closed in around me there was a cry raised, "It is Jack the Ripper in disguise." The excitement in those days was intense all over Europe. Jack the Ripper was a fiend in human form that was killing women continually in the most horrifying manner and in cold blood. You might see on a bulletin board in the city that a murder would be committed on such a day and hour and these threats would be carried out. Yet he defied the detectives and police. Large rewards were offered for his capture. I saw that my life was in danger unless I could convince them of their mistake, of which I now saw the cause. I was dressed differently from them. I had on a long black cloak and had thrown my black shawl over my head concealing my bonnet, and carried a bag on my arm which contained my recommendations, railway passes, etc. I said: "You are mistaken, gentlemen, I am not Jack the Ripper" (removing my shawl), "I am a missionary from America; and preaching at the Globe Theater every night. Come and hear me there. There is no cause for this tumult." The General and his wife having come in, we passed out, the mob following us several blocks with shouts and screams giving me some blows as we went. But God delivered us from their cruel hands.

A MOB OF DRUNKEN WOMEN.

Another night when returning from the Globe Theater in company with General and Mrs. Evans we heard a great noise up the street and soon discovered that it was made by a mob of some kind. On their coming nearer, we found it was an immense crowd of drunken fallen girls. The General said: "Hide yourselves quick! There is no telling what they might do." The policemen had slunk away—not caring to try to make any arrests, as there were so many of them and they were so violent. Poor souls! They were some mothers' girls who perhaps had learned to love the taste of strong drink before they saw the light and were bound by both inherited and acquired appetite. I was told that on an average there were four drunken women in Glasgow for every drunken man. Such a statement seems beyond belief, but during our stay we saw much to indicate that it was true. What could the harvest be?