During his imprisonment I at one time visited his poor mother in her home. Oh! what havoc sin had wrought! What sorrow! For though I believe him entirely innocent of the crime for which he was condemned, his conviction was the result of his being led astray by evil influences and associates.
Oh, that I could warn young men of the dangers of bad company, and that I could warn parents of the dangers of discouraging their children in waiting upon and serving God.
When this boy was quite young, he wanted to become a Christian and engage in work for souls, but his parents thought it would be a disgrace, as they were aristocratic, but alas! what snares had the enemy set for him, from which he might have entirely escaped, if they had encouraged him to be true to God.
I received many letters from him while he was in prison and quote from two of them. We have not heard from him for years but trust that if alive he is still living for God and Heaven.
Waupun, Wis., July 7, 1895.
Dear Mother, "In His Name":
Since my last letter to you several things of interest have transpired. My attorney went to see the governor and then came to see me. We went over some evidence, and at last I convinced them that I alone can untangle the skein of false evidence.
I located a Mrs. N. and she gave an affidavit which would have cleared me at my trial. She said she felt that she had been the cause of all my suffering, but that she went to LaCrosse at the time of my trial and was met at the train by a detective, who told her if she wanted to keep out of serious trouble to take the first train out of the city, and she did so. I expect to soon have another witness to corroborate her statement. Then if I can locate the sister of the deceased and get her evidence I will have a sure case against those who perjured themselves to send me here.
Yes, I have placed all my life in God's hands and have begun my work here; but, being a convict, I am much hindered. Therefore, in order to do a more abundant and faithful service, I desire my freedom. If I get it, I will try and enter the Moody Institute and take a course of training for the work. Mrs. K. is anxious to have me do so.
Our chaplain will preside over our Christian Endeavor Society. I recently sent out my report to be read at the Boston convention in session the 10th inst., and I ventured, in the light of all events, to place the following motto over our penitentiary: "Wisconsin Prison for Christ" for the coming year, and by the time of the next convention, I hope to be out to represent the Christian Endeavor boys.
Brother H. told me of a song you sing. "Some Mother's Child" is the song. Will says it is simply sublime and I ought to have it. Such songs turn the mind back to home and to the memory of fond parents and loved ones. Such pieces are always very sacred to me.
God bless you and spare you for many years to come, that you may continue to be a Mother to the prisoners of earth. Write me when you can.
I am your loving little son, "In His Name,"
Albert.
Waupun, Wis., Nov. 27, 1895.
My Dear Mother:
Your excellent letter duly at hand. Both Brother Colgrove and I were surprised, for we had concluded that God in His infinite love and wisdom had carried you home.
I am at work here in the official building, in the office of our dear chaplain. Brother Colgrove is in the hospital across the hall from our office. I have talked with the chaplain about your coming, and he says to tell you to come and stay two weeks. He would like to have you spend two Sundays, and in the meantime we will no doubt, under the present warden, be able to secure the evenings during the week for a series of revival meetings.
Lovingly your son in the work,
Albert.
Guilt comes not, thundering on the wings of time,
With vice-distorted feature and the leer of crime,
But like enchanting vision from a pagan dream,
Or softly echoed cadence of a whispering stream,
She steals upon us gently, with ever-changing art,
And usurps an empire—the waiting human heart!
Her outward form is beauty, her voice with Passion tense,
She only craves the privilege to gratify each sense;
All apparent pleasures 'round her path are spread,
But, alas! you seize the flower to find its fragrance fled;
But still pursuing, row with bated breath,
You clasp her to your bosom and—embrace a death!
Then, conscience stricken, you the wreck survey,
And with shuddering horror—humbly kneel to pray;
While the pitying angels on their pinions bear
The ever sacred burden of repentant prayer,
And almighty love descending reasserts control,
And mercy in the guise of grace has won a human soul.
—A Prisoner.