A belated “local” of one of the newspapers, while returning to his lodgings on the previous evening, had his coat-tail pulled, much to his surprise, by a little girl about six years old.
“Please, sir,” she asked, “do you know Jesus?”
The “local” was struck dumb.
“O sir!” she continued, “won’t you please come to Jesus?”
This was enough. The hard heart-of the “local” was touched. He sobbed, he wept, he cried aloud. He fell upon his knees. The little girl fell on hers. They sang:
“Come to Jesus,
Come to Jesus,
Come to Jesus just now,” etc.
When the “local” rose, after the conclusion of the singing, he took the little girl’s hand and went whither she led him. He, too, had “got religion”—somewhat as one gets a coup de soleil or a stroke of paralysis.
The opposition dailies mildly called attention to the purely emotional character of the effects produced. They expressed their fears that the moral and physical result of factitious excitement on minds of tender years might be the reverse of healthy. The next day the melodeon was carted about again and the singing continued on the sidewalks and in front of the drinking-saloons. Mr. Notext’s machinery was in full blast. The meeting on the second evening was devoted principally to grown people. The tent was full. The choir was strengthened by additional voices, and the music was good of its kind.