I went back and forth from San Francisco to other places for six weeks, but his case lay very heavy upon my heart. I knew that on the 14th of September he was to go, and that worse still, he was in danger of eternal death. I pleaded and wept for him day and night, that he might be brought to see his lost condition and his need of Christ and yield to God. How I bless God that He hears and answers prayer! "If any man see his brother sin a sin which is not unto death, he shall ask, and he shall give him life for them that sin not unto death."—1 John 5:16.
Before his conversion I received from him the following letters, beautifully and correctly written:
San Francisco, Aug. 9, 1888.
Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton:
As to religion I do not profess any creed. I do not mean by the above that I hate them—on the contrary, I love religion and hate hypocrisy. I am not an atheist and must admit that I believe in a true, just and most merciful God. I appreciate your visits very much and hope you will call to see me as often as opportunity and convenience will allow, so I now close this brief epistle by sending kindest regards and best wishes. I am
Respectfully,
—— ——.
"Condemned Cell."
P. S.—Kind thanks for singing.
San Francisco, Sept. 7, 1888.
Mrs. Wheaton:
I am pleased that you called to see me and hope you will repeat your visits. It grieves me to see you shed tears, and although I say nothing, remember that "still water runs deep." I have faith and believe in prayer, so I believe that the cause of a condemned boy will be heard in heaven and will come to pass. I am not allowed to shake hands, much less give my mother a comforting kiss. I now end by thanking you very kindly for your kindness and consideration to me.
I am, respectfully,
—— ——.
I went, the day before the execution, to see him. No one was allowed to go inside the doomed boy's cell, so I was compelled to submit to the law. The sheriff said positively, "No, you cannot go inside." But the chief jailer said, "I promised that this lady should go inside the boy's cell before the execution, and I must keep my word. I will go in with her." He opened the door and we went in. He was a grand man. Myself and the sister who was with me prayed for the prisoner's salvation. We sang and read and prayed, and at last the presence of the Holy Spirit seemed to fill the gloomy little cell, and to touch the poor boy kneeling there with the shackles on his limbs. (They frequently put shackles on some days before the execution, and place them in the "doomed cell.") We kept on praying and singing and at last the light came into his heart, and God owned him as His child.
On the morning of the execution, I went early to the prison; and as I hurried along there met me a young Catholic priest, who was our mutual friend, and very kind. He said, "Come quickly, the boy wants you. He has called for you all night, and they could not find you, so they came for me. I have been waiting for you." This priest had labored with me to convince the poor boy that Jesus was the Christ and that He alone could save him. I hurried on into the prison for my last greeting on earth with the poor condemned boy. There was no loud demonstration—he was going to die, and knew it; but he felt that he was ready. He said to me: "I can hardly wait the hour to go home. I am willing and ready to die. O sing for me my favorite songs. I wish you could go with me to the scaffold, but that is against the law for women to go to the execution in this state." Mothers could not endure such things, but I feel, when permitted, as if I must stay till all is over.
I took a white silk handkerchief and gently folded it around the boy's neck, and said, "I think the rope won't hurt so bad, and the pain won't be so severe with this around your neck." I shall never forget the grateful look on his face, as he smilingly thanked me. He was a very refined young man, and only for whiskey he might be living yet. As I bade him good-bye he said, "Please sing for me once more before I go." I sang and passed out among the crowds of people. I seemed to be lifted above the things of earth—I was so thankful for his salvation. Reader, do you know what it is to travail for a soul and then count the hours and moments till you see them go over the river of death, and by-and-by with the eye of faith see them enter the pearly gates into the presence of Him who was crucified for them?
After the execution I received the following kind letter from the young priest to whom I have referred:
San Francisco, Oct. 13, 1888.
Dear Madam:
It was with great pleasure I read your kind and welcome note. I thank you very much for your pleasant remembrance and hope that God will bless your efforts and sacrifices on behalf of the poor prisoners.
In regard to A., I can say that he was resigned to the last and died well prepared, in my opinion. I was with him almost constantly during the last twelve hours. I think his family placed the silk handkerchief in the coffin with him.
Please give my regards to your kind companion and say sometimes a little prayer for me. I hope to see you soon in San Francisco and have the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance. I have the honor of remaining,
Yours truly in Jesus Christ,
Rev. N—— F——.