Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

Languages Used:

• English

LC Subject Headings:

• Ray, L. P., Mrs., b. 1859.
• Ray, L. P. (Lloyd P.), b. 1860.
• African Americans -- Biography.
• African American Methodists -- Washington (State) -- Seattle -- Clergy -- Biography.
• African American missionaries -- Washington (State) -- Seattle -- Biography.
• African American clergy -- Washington (State) -- Seattle -- Biography.
• Slaves -- United States -- Biography.
• Freedmen -- United States -- Biography.
• Temperance -- United States -- Biography.
• African Americans -- Religion.
• Slaves' writings, American.

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[Cover Image]

[Spine Image]

MR. AND MRS. L. P. RAY
[Frontispiece Image]

[Title Page Image]

Twice Sold, Twice Ransomed

Mrs. Emma J. Ray

Twice Sold, Twice Ransomed Autobiography of
Mr. and Mrs. L. P. Ray

Introduction by Rev. C. E. McReynolds

Published by
THE FREE METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE
1132 Washington Boulevard
Chicago, Illinois

Copyright, 1926
BY
MRS. EMMA J. RAY

        TO
THE MANY FAITHFUL FRIENDS
WHO HAVE LABORED WITH US
FOR THE MASTER
THIS VOLUME
IS DEDICATED BY
THE AUTHOR

ILLUSTRATIONS

• Mr. and Mrs. L. P. Ray Frontispiece
• Mrs. M. E. Timmons and daughter 28
• Nurse "Emmy" and the child who loved her 36
• L. P. Ray at sixteen years of age 54
• First Colored W. C. T. U. in Seattle, Washington 67
• Charles H. Witteman 103
• John Smith, Mrs. Ray's father 107
• Kansas City, Missouri, Mission 122
• Colored public school, Kansas City, Missouri 147
• Rev. Riley Vernon 151
• L. P. Ray's mother 166
• Residence of Mr. and Mrs. L. P. Ray 190
• Mrs. Ruey Witteman 201

TABLE OF CONTENTS

• Chapter I. Early Life and Experiences 15
• II. Education of the Colored People 23
• III. Home Life 32
• IV. Meets Mr. Ray 37
• V. Mr. Ray's Testimony 54
• VI. Mrs. Ray's Sanctification 60
• VII. Colored W. C. T. U. Organized 67
• VIII. Work with Mother Ryther in Slums 75
• IX. First Met the Free Methodists 89
• X. Hospital Work 92
• XI. The Alaska Gold Graze 98
• XII. Our Visit to the East 103
• XIII. Jail Work in Kansas City, Missouri 113
• XIV. Return to Seattle from Kansas City 150
• XV. The Wayside Mission 157
• XVI. Incidents 166
• XVII. How the Lord Gave Us a New Home 188
• XVIII. My Trip to Oregon 191
• XIX. Revival in African M. E. Church, Seattle 196
• XX. Our Work in Olive Branch Mission, Seattle 201
• XXI. Mr. and Mrs. Ray Join F. M. Church 210
• XXII. Brother and Sister Jones' Conversion 212
• XXIII. Mr. Setterlind's Account of His Conversion 216
• XXIV. Incidents of Mission Work 224
• XXV. Prohibition Campaign in Washington, 1914 242
• XXVI. The Power of Testimony 249
• XXVII. Sickness and Healing of Brother Ray 254
• XXVIII. Revival Meetings at Waneta, Washington 263
• XXIX. Revival meetings 266
• XXX. Tributes to Mr. and Mrs. Ray 275
• XXXI. Favorite Songs 294
• XXXII. Divine Guidance 303
• XXXIII. Perfect Love Demonstrated 307

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  Page 8

• XXXIV. Death of Mrs. Ruey Witteman 311
• XXXV. The Be's of the Lord 314
• XXXVI. Dorothy Herald's Question 316
• XXXVII. Conclusion 320

INTRODUCTION

        It is with pleasure that we respond to the request of our dear friends in Christ, Rev. L. P. and Mrs. Emma J. Ray, to write a brief introduction to their book.

        We first met them in 1890 when pastor of the First Free Methodist Church of Seattle, Washington, which was located at 912 Pine Street. Brother and Sister Ray came to our services and we were impressed with their evident honesty and manifest desire to know the things of God. We have been intimately acquainted with them and their work for many years, and have noted with much interest their growth in grace and knowledge, their splendid success in the ministry of the Word, and in leading souls to Christ.

        Brother and Sister Ray are held in high esteem by the Washington Conference and by all who know them. They are safe, sane and competent. They do not introduce fads and fancies into their revival efforts, but preach the whole gospel "with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven." We are glad we ever met them. They have been a blessing to us, and we hope God may spare them many years to continue their good work.

        We have read with much profit and pleasure the advance sheets of their autobiography. We predict for it a splendid sale, and believe it will prove a great blessing to all who may read it.

Rev. C. E. McReynolds,

PREFACE

        For many years it has been laid upon our hearts to write our experiences and to tell about some of the incidents in our lives. Many of the pilgrims have persuaded us to do so. We bowed in prayer and inquired of the Lord if this would glorify Him, and the answer came, "Ye are my witnesses."

        Just after we received this text, doubt came into my mind, which caused me to wonder if it really was the Lord who spoke to me. I felt I could not afford to make a mistake. Again I sought the mind of the Lord. After fasting and earnestly praying, I asked him to forgive me for coming to him the second time, and to give me one more passage of scripture; and to let it be a word concerning writing, and I would not doubt again. I turned to the twenty-sixth Psalm, and, not knowing what was in it, I began to read at the seventh verse. My eyes fell upon these words, "That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all Thy wondrous works." My heart became hot within me and while I mused the fire burned. I said, "Oh, praise the Lord! The Bible says that I may publish it, and tell of all His wondrous works."

        It was a prayer, and the prayer of my soul. The words, "publish it," kept turning over and over in my mind. I then ran and got my dictionary, as is always my custom when the Spirit impresses me with a word, as it is clearer to me when I get the foundation of the word. Mr. Webster thus defines the term:

        1. To make known to mankind, or people in general, what before was private or unknown. Christ and His apostles published the glad tidings of salvation.

                         "The unwearied sun from day to day,
                         Does his Creator's power display;
                         And publishes to every land
                         The work of an almighty hand."

        2. To send a book into the world; to offer for sale a book, map, or print.

        I knelt down and thanked the Lord. I then arose to my feet, feeling sure it was the voice of God. At once I telephoned this experience to Sister S. A. Morgan, who, for twenty years, had requested us to write our experiences, saying that to do so she believed would glorify God.

        Since that time many of our friends have made the same request, some kindly offering to assist us when we told them of our inability to perform the task. Thus by the help of the Lord and by the assistance of kind friends, we shall give personal testimony to what God has wrought in our lives, trusting that in so doing we shall glorify Him.

TWICE SOLD--TWICE RANSOMED

                         A land of sunshine, soft blue skies and bloom
                         Without, to charm the eyes, the heart to cheer;
                         Within, a filthy, crowded auction room,
                         The ribald jest, the oath, the heartless jeer.

                         And huddled close a brooding dark-skinned band
                         Of human chattels, waiting to be sold--
                         Children and parents, husbands, wives, they stand
                         To satisfy man's guilty greed for gold.

                         And from that cursed block, with downcast eyes,
                         Her baby girl pressed closely to her heart,
                         A gentle mother steps, and bravely tries
                         To thank her God--they are not sold apart.

                         A few years pass; the roar and shriek and din
                         Of war. And blood of brothers dyes the sod--
                         For blood must e'er atone for guilt and sin,
                         And cries have long assailed the ear of God.

                         The time was ripe, the bond-man should go free.
                         God had a man, gentle and strong and brave,
                         Who willingly a Joshua would be,
                         Who dared to strike the shackles from the slave.

                         His life the forfeit. But at last he gained
                         The goal, his heart had sought for many years.
                         Freedom and justice, peace and mercy reigned,
                         Union restored, though bathed with blood and tears.

                         The years slip by; and in a northern state,
                         Of fir and fern, where sparkling water plays,
                         The slave babe--woman grown, with chosen mate
                         In search of home and happiness, now strays.

                         They chose a city close beside the Sound
                         Builded, like Rome, upon her many hills.
                         Whose air and water, verdure, fertile ground,
                         Sing loud of health and freedom from life's ills.

                         Rejoicingly, these "dusky sons of toil"
                         Look on the scene, and boast their "jubilee."
                         Their's for the taking--water, trees and soil,
                         With all their stores--and dream that they are free.

                         And still, poor slaves were they, "Sold under sin,"
                         Her master, envy, vanity and greed;
                         His, rioting, tobacco, beer and gin,--
                         Worse bondage than from that they had been freed.

                         Like bondage all our race has sometime known,
                         Helpless to save ourselves from utter loss
                         Till one was found--God-man, who could atone,
                         Who nailed our fetters to His blood-stained cross.

                         They gladly "rose and followed," "at His call,"
                         Who paid their ransom, made them free again.
                         And for His service they "forsook their all,"
                         And He has made of them "Fishers of men."

                         Twice born, twice sold, and twice redeemed and free,
                         Yet still are "love slaves" "going out no more."
                         For at the breaking of the "Jubilee"
                         They craved the "ear-mark" at their Master's door.

        ..Affectionately inscribed to Mr. and Mrs. L. P. Ray, by their sister in Jesus, Mina B. Spear.

Seattle, Washington, March 30th, 1925.

CHAPTER I
EARLY LIFE AND EXPERIENCES

        I was born twice, bought twice, sold twice, and set free twice. Born of woman, born of God; sold in slavery, sold to the devil; freed by Lincoln, set free by God.

        I was born in the State of Missouri, January 7, 1859, in a little town called Springfield. I was born of slave parents. My great grandfather was brought from Africa and sold as a slave in the State of Virginia. My father's name was John Smith, that being the name of his master. My mother's name was Jennie Boyd.

        When I was one month old, I, my sister, who was one and one-half years old, and my mother, who held me in her arms, were sold at the auction block to the highest bidder. Two of my father's young masters bid us in, so our names became Smith.

        My father was never sold, but lived in the same family where he was born until he became free. He was very much troubled at the prospect of seeing his wife, my mother, sold, and became restless, consequently his young master bought us in just to please my father, as he threatened to run away.

        Every slave, after being made free, had the privilege of choosing a name for himself, but my father kept the name of Smith until his death. He was much loved by his owners. They moved to the State

of Missouri when he was but a child. He was really the property of the young mistress, who refused to sell him, but kept him as chore boy in the big house, and the whole family loved him. This explains why they so readily bought us in at the auction.

        At this time while he was yet young my father learned to read and write; although it was against the law for a slave to learn to read or write, he was thirsty for knowledge and stole what little education he had from his master's children. It happened on this wise; the boys were always spelling and repeating their lessons at home where they studied. He said he had a burning desire to learn to read. He would listen to them and would often steal their books, especially their speller, and have them tell him what these or those letters would spell. He studied in the field, or in the old log cabin, at night by the light from the old fireplace. In the field while resting the horses, he would take off his hat in which was hidden the spelling book and while he was pretending to be looking in his hat for vermin which were quite plentiful at that time, he was studying the words he was learning. He would then go on to the end of the row, spelling as he plowed. It would have been disastrous to him if he had been caught. A negro that could read was considered dangerous. He persevered until he could both read and write. In later years, when he became free, it was his habit to pick up a piece of paper, while resting in the garden, and read. My father never had an opportunity to go to school.

        My mother was sold twice so far as I can remember. I remember mother's telling me about her only brother's

being sold. He was in the orchard getting some apples to eat. The slave trader came and she was sent to call him, and she told him he was to be sold. He stopped eating and with a choking and pathetic voice he said, "Here, Sister Jennie, you may have all my apples." He was sold and sent south, and she never saw or heard of him again.

        Soon afterward the Civil war began. I was only two years old and can not remember the beginning of it, but as it progressed the excitement became so great that even a child of three or four years old could not help but remember some things. I remember the Wilson Creek battle that was fought August 10, 1861, in Springfield, Missouri, my home town. I remember hearing the people talk with much excitement about the shells exploding and killing people, and being admonished to keep indoors, and if I saw one smoking not to go near it, nor to pick up one.

        We were "run south" to Arkansas to keep from being taken away by the Federal soldiers as they passed through the country. My father and mother and the one sister that was sold, went with us. The other children, four in all, three boys and one girl, were on the farm from which my mother was sold. The older brother, about sixteen years of age, ran away with the Federal soldiers. My father said he asked for a pass before leaving, as no slave could leave the farm without having a pass. (They kept patrolmen in those days to watch the slaves and keep them at home.) My brother wanted to bid them goodbye, never expecting to see them again.

        Our two young masters took us south along with a regiment of Confederate soldiers. I don't know what

the name of the regiment was, nor how old I was at that time, but my father told me I would sing "Dixie Land" for the the soldiers at night around the camp fire.

        My brothers that were left on the farm said they would miss "pappy" (as they all called their fathers then) and would go down to the field every day and look at his tracks made in the soft soil of the field, as he went away.

        I can not remember how long we were south; I don't think it was long, perhaps a few months. It was somewhere in Arkansas. There soon came a regiment of Union soldiers through Arkansas, commanded by General Fremont, and they took us back to Spring-field, under their protection, so I had the opportunity of singing to the Confederate soldiers going to Arkansas, and to the Union soldiers coming back.

        I had a sister born on the way down to Arkansas when we stopped at the Bethphage camping ground. My mother named her Priscilla Bethphage. Priscilla was a very sad child, sick and delicate, being melancholy all her days.

        When we arrived at Springfield, we went right back to our old owners; like so many chickens, we had nowhere else to go. But we did not stay there very long because General Fremont commanded every slave owner to give up all slaves who wanted to leave their masters. This was before the Emancipation Proclamation, and for this order General Fremont lost his position as Military Commander. We all left with great rejoicing. We had no place to live; we did not know how to provide for ourselves.

        A neighboring slave owner, in sympathy with the

north, let us (my father and mother, two sisters and myself) live in an old log cabin not far from our old home. My three brothers ran away from the Boyd family leaving my oldest sister on the plantation alone. She was the only slave left on the place. Around the fire at night, she had heard the other slaves talking about running away, and our mother had told her that she could run away and come to her. It was not very long before she started at night after getting the chores done, traveling at night, creeping through the underbrush. She had to come about two and one-half miles from the plantation into town. As she had heard them talking about the "underground railroad" and run-away negroes going north, it gave her a little idea of what to do. When the slaves ran away, the only thing they knew to do was to follow the north star. My sister came to us in the log cabin.

        I remember hearing the slaves talk about getting to Canada over the "underground railroad," with the help of sympathetic northerners.

        I never go across to the British side now, but I feel like lifting my heart in gratitude to God. It takes me back to the days of slavery, when our poor fathers and mothers prayed so earnestly to see that land and never had the opportunity and yet I, their offspring, reaped the fruit of their faith and prayers. God surely works in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. Amen! Hallelujah!

        My sister's liberty was short-lived, because the old master and the two daughters came after her. We were all happy, playing on the floor in the log cabin. The old mistress came to the door and said, "I have

come after my nigger." My sister screamed and started for the back door, but some one was there to catch her. We children cried and our mother begged and prayed but our sister was taken back and they put a ball and chain on her and kept her chained down until she was subdued and would run away no more. But in a few days she was back again; this time mother ran with her to some Union sympathizer near by, and they kept her until the Proclamation was issued.

        When the glad tidings came that we were freed, and the war was over, such rejoicing and weeping and shouting among the slaves was never heard before, unless it was the time that the Ark of the Covenant was brought back to the children of Israel. Great numbers of the slaves left their masters immediately. They had no shelter, but they dug holes in the ground, made dug-outs, brush houses, with a piece of board here and there, whenever they could find one, until finally they had a little village called "Dink-town," looking more like an Indian village than anything else. There they sang and prayed and rejoiced. Later on, the soldiers began to come through, returning from the war. They brought many negroes with them who were searching for members of their families. I remember my mother, with me holding on to her skirts, standing watching the soldiers as they passed in their blue suits, and the colored people all shouting "Hurrah for Marse Abe," and cheering the Union boys as they passed. That was a glad day. That certainly was a year of jubilee for the poor black slave. They had heard about the Liberation from Bondage of the Children of Israel from the Egyptians

and their prayers were always to the Almighty God, and the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob that they too some day might be delivered, and now it had actually come. Oh! what joy!

        My father was the only colored man that could write. Slaves were not allowed to learn to read and write, under penalty of flogging, but my father was a house servant and had stolen his education from the young masters as they said over their lessons. He was kept up for hours at night, and sometimes almost all night, writing letters trying to find out where loved ones were. Some had been run south, some were sold away, and they could not tell their names, only the first names. Mothers were hunting children, and husbands hunting wives; they kept my father very busy.

        It was also very hard upon the slave owners, as there were none of the white women that knew anything about work, and they were left without a single servant. It was hard for both blacks and whites to become used to the change, for the slaves had no idea how to earn a living. Some of the slaves that had good masters never left, but stayed on the plantations the rest of their lives.

        It was not long until my brothers came home and we were all gathered together. Soon after that came the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. That brought great sorrow over all the land, and especially to the blacks. I remember the village of huts where the negroes lived; every one would have a little piece of black cloth hung on it. They could not afford crepe, but it was merely a piece of old black pants, or coat, or anything in order to show their bereavement and

their sorrow, that one so great had been taken from them; they loved him as their friend and deliverer. I heard them speak so much about "Marse Abraham" in their prayers, and sermons, and talk, and about "resting in Abraham's bosom" that I thought for a long time that Abraham Lincoln, and Abraham in the Bible, were the same man, until I began to go to Sunday-school and learned the difference.

CHAPTER II
EDUCATION OF THE COLORED PEOPLE

        It was not very long before the white missionaries came from the North and schools were started, the children going to school by day and the older ones at night after work. Everyone was eager to get an education. It was amusing sometimes to see them reading the signboards and grocery advertisements, and as soon as the small children began to learn to read, they would inquire, "Child, what does dat say?" or, would say, "Read dis for me." It was astonishing how rapidly they learned, even the older ones.

        They began to build churches at the same time. Money came in from the whites of the North, also from those in the South who were in sympathy. The slaves belonged mostly to the same denomination as did their masters. My mother was a Cumberland Presbyterian, and she helped to build the little church within a few blocks from our home, and to get a little Sunday-school started. How earnestly they prayed for means to build that church. They wanted the church more than homes to live in. I remember, when it was finished, that mother gathered all the children together and went to church, after making great preparation with our new dresses and bonnets. I remember the preacher talked very loud and with great unction, and many of the older ones

shouted and cried. I got excited and could not understand it, and I cried too and wondered what it was all about. I was not long in finding out that Jesus died for me and that if I was a good girl I would go to heaven when I died and that I could see Him.

        Soon after that we leased the ground near where the majority of the other colored people lived and built a little shanty of our own.

        Some would never go to bed until late, but would wake up about midnight to pray and would keep it up sometimes for two or three hours; sometimes the neighbors would awaken and join in the singing and prayer and ofttimes souls in neighboring houses, would get under conviction and be converted. Those were great days. They would go from house to house to tell all the neighbors that they were converted, and would tell what a dear Savior they had found.

        It was not very long after that my mother's health broke. She had been worked hard as a slave and she died in the fall of '68 leaving nine children. She called us around the bed and had us sing for her. The colored people had a song that they always sang, either at time of death, or when they were sold away from each other, that goes something like this:

                         "Oh mother, adieu, I am sorry for you,
                         My heart's filled with sorrow. What more can I do?
                         If I see you no more 'til the last trump shall blow,
                         I'll see you in heaven, where parting's no more."

        Mother wanted to live to raise her children, as she had prayed so long for freedom, now it had come and she had to leave them. She asked the Lord that she might be reconciled to His will: finally she got the

victory and was blessed. She called us all to her bedside and told us she wanted us to meet her in heaven.

                         "O, death, where is thy sting?
                         O grave, where is thy victory?"

        I really did not know what it would mean to me to lose mother at this time, but I was not long in finding out, as my father had several little ones left, one being a baby not over a year old.

        Before she died, my mother had requested him not to separate the children, but to let them "work out" and always keep a home for them. This request was kept until the last child had grown up, or death had taken it away. A doctor took me to work for him, and different persons took those that were old enough to work. I was nine years old and just old enough to take care of a baby and to wash dishes. I was much afraid of this doctor, as he was a very cross man. When he took me, I had no clothes. I remember their making me two little calico dresses and gingham aprons, and I was very proud of them. I cried every day and wanted to go home because he treated me so harshly. He let me go home on Sunday morning to stay until four o'clock in the afternoon.

        I remember his telling people to come and look at his little negro that had been given him, but I had learned from father the blessings of freedom and liberty, and I felt all the sadder. Finally, after spending the day at home on Sunday, my father told me I would have to go back; that he had not given me away, but just wanted me to work and get some clothes and something to eat. He said that he would never give me away; that I should always have a

home to come to and that I should be good and obey them.

        I, too, got the spirit of "run away," as I was so afraid of the doctor. I took my clothes, hid them under the steps, did my chores, and, towards night I went downstairs to my supper, and, taking my bundle of clothes from under the steps, ran as hard as I could until I got home. My father told me I should not have left, but as I cried and was afraid of the doctor, who swore at me, father said perhaps he could find another place for me. The next day the doctor came after me. When I saw him coming I ran under the bed and began to cry, and as I would not come out, he asked for my clothes. Oh how I hated to give up that little cotton dress and gingham apron, but when I thought of being delivered from the doctor, it was a great consolation to me after all. I always felt that he might have given me one of the little dresses or aprons at least as I had no mother and had worked awhile for some of my clothes.

        In the fall of the year, after working in the summer time, the children that were old enough were sent to school. Two of us girls were old enough; our three brothers and oldest sister had no chance to go; they had to work. Our white school-teachers, sent from the North, were devout Christians and missionaries. They taught us not only to read, but also to study the Bible and to learn the ways of God. There were sent to us as teachers a man by the name of Hayes with his three daughters and two sons. I did not go very steadily. I worked out in the summer and went to school in the winter.

        I soon got to the place where I wanted pretty

clothes, and I was ashamed of my dresses, but father could not give us any better.

        Part of the time I did not have enough to eat. I have gone to school many a day without having anything to eat until night, with the exception of a piece of cold corn bread. When I saw other girls, who had mothers, have good things to eat in their dinner pails, I would hide mine. I thought then as much of a white-flour biscuit as I would of the finest fruit-cake now. Everybody ate corn bread, and, if we had that and bacon, we fared well. This was also the fare of many of the poor whites. I ofttimes took my little sister and went off by myself and ate my corn bread with sorghum molasses, if I was fortunate to have that, and I would never let them know but that I had dined sumptuously. One time when I saw the white girls coming home from school I called to them and asked what they had left in their dinner pails. One girl gave me a biscuit with peach preserves on it. It was made of white flour and I think it was the best biscuit I ever tasted. I am sure it was, for I have never forgotten the taste of it, and as I write it almost seems that I can taste it now; old-fashioned peach preserves, made as only a Southerner can make them.

        As poor as we were, our father did not allow us to beg, especially for something to eat. He told us it was a disgrace to beg. He thought it better to go hungry than to beg, and if he saw a person, especially a white person who had been free all his life, begging, he would say, "I can't see how persons that have had their liberty all their lives need to come to such want." He told us to wait. He would get it for

us. I praise the Lord it was no worse, for if I had to go hungry all day, he would be sure to come in with a little meal, and ofttimes with bacon, at night.

        I went to school until I entered the fourth grade. Of course our privileges were not such as they are now, but I learned to read, and write, and spell, and that was considered among our people a pretty good education. My father wanted me to keep up my studies, but I soon got to the age when I wanted to work and buy some clothes, as I would ofttimes have to go to school with the sole of my shoe all loose and tied on with a string, through deep snows and zero weather. When I look back now and see how other girls who were clothed so much better than I, sickened and died from catching cold from exposure, I realize it was only the mercy of God that I lived through it, and that He had a purpose in it all. I can see plainly that it was all in answer to my mother's prayer.

        There was a very kind white Methodist woman by the name of Mrs. Timmons. She took me to live with her. She felt sorry for me, and told my father she would let me work for her through the summer seasons. For awhile she let me go to school, but later on she could not keep me and let me go to school regularly through the winter seasons. I worked for her in the summer and went to school in the winter. She was very kind to me, clothed and fed me well, and she was a very devout Christian woman. She belonged to the Methodist Episcopal Church, North. They had their family prayers morning and night regularly, and were very consistent in their lives and claimed the blessing of sanctification. She never allowed any cooking or dish-washing on Sunday. I was a nursemaid

MRS. M. E. TIMMONS AND DAUGHTER

for her little daughter until she was a large girl, and then I did the housework.

        After awhile I tired of this place and wanted to go to dances and parties, but, as she was a very good Christian woman, she did not give me permission. Ofttimes I went as a nurse girl with the white people to the white Methodist camp meetings, and other revival meetings, and took my seat in the back of the house, or up in the gallery and waited till the meetings were out. There I took care of the baby.

        They had great revivals in those days. They were of the old-fashioned kind, where people would get blessed, sinners would be converted by the score, and whole communities would get stirred.

        I remember about some revivals in our town. Those were days of great awakening in our little town of Springfield. There was a public square in the town, and men brought their products and sold them on the public square as they do now in public markets, and they were struck under conviction on their loads of wood, and their wagons of corn. Meetings were held in the Court House or in any place--sometimes on the streets, also in the jails, and they would get right down off the old wagons and pray to God and get saved. And in our own churches I have seen some of them, as the preacher exhorted, get up and start for the altar, fall under the power of God, and lie for hours and sometimes for days.

        While the preacher was preaching, others would be struck under conviction, and oh such praying and preaching and singing. Those that were mourning prayed through to victory and came out with bright shining faces--Praise the Lord. Old grudges were

put away before they were justified, wrongs were made right and there was a deep and godly sorrow for sin. Some saw visions and hell seemed to be before them, while the saints would rejoice and sinners were being converted in the old-fashioned way.

        There was nothing said about sanctification among us, as we had not the light on it; but there were quite a few of the old pilgrims who enjoyed the experience. We have often heard them say, "If you ain't just right, you're just wrong," and they would say, "You will have to come clean."

        We had some great camp meetings in those days. We often went to the woods between meetings, and we called that "seekers' prayer." The men took the men seekers and went in one direction, and the women took the women seekers and went in another direction, quite a distance from the camp to a spot of ground and put in the time praying. Some got saved, others got under conviction, as a great many sinners went along with the seekers. The old-fashioned horn was blown and they were given time to come back for their lunch and be ready for the night meeting. At the evening meetings the ministers dealt faithfully with souls, and pungent conviction led to thorough conversions. All sinful pleasures were put aside, and the converts became loyal followers of Christ. Oh, Lord, do send us a wave of the old-time, devil-driving, sin-killing, soul-saving power of salvation.

                         "Oh for that flame of living fire,
                         Which shone so bright in saints of old;
                         Which bade their souls to heaven aspire,
                         Calm in distress, in danger bold.

                         "Where is that spirit, Lord, which dwelt
                         In Abraham's breast and sealed him Thine?
                         Which made Paul's heart with sorrow melt,
                         And glow with energy divine?

                         "Is not Thy grace as mighty now,
                         As when Elijah felt its power;
                         When glory beamed from Moses' brow,
                         Or Job endured the trying hour?

                         "Remember, Lord, the ancient days;
                         Renew Thy work; Thy grace restore;
                         And while to Thee our hearts we raise,
                         On us Thy Holy Spirit pour."
                         Amen, Lord, let it be so.

        These conditions grew brighter and better as we children grew older. The boys were old enough to leave school and work. My older sisters went into service, and my father would collect their wages. Our rations became better.

CHAPTER III
HOME LIFE

        Our oldest sister was a mother to us, and when she was fourteen years old could do a woman's work. She was a good cook and housewoman and was a blessing and help to us all. In those days, Southerners who were able did not eat warmed-over food. All such was given to the slaves or help. As the people were fond of hot biscuits, the cook always made up a good quantity of dough, and served them hot. As they began to get cold, they were taken off the table, and more hot biscuits were served, and the cold ones were scraped into a bucket with other leavings, and, in a couple of days or less time, the cook had a bucket full to carry away. Our sister brought these home.

        All the ex-slaves did not fare as hard as we, having mothers to help them shoulder the responsibilities; but my father's was a lone man's struggle, with nine motherless children, and it was also a struggle to pay for our home. But the pressure grew lighter as the children grew older.

        We soon got our little home paid for. As I have previously mentioned, it was a two-room shanty with an attic and with one acre of ground.

        Father was a good gardener, so now the dark clouds of poverty were beginning to break a little, and silver linings were more vivid, and our intellectual skies began to shine more clear.

        I would often hear my father say, although he was not saved, "I thank my God for the chance of being a man, and I'll come out all right yet, if I have half a chance."

        I remember my first earnest and sincere prayer. My two older sisters had been working out, and they had come home for awhile. I was the housekeeper, and I had not kept it as they thought I should. They began to give me orders and sent me out to gather brush from some acreage of underbrush nearby and I failed to obey. They chastised me for it, and I suppose I did deserve a flogging. I began to get angry and cry, and it was hard for me to stop, so I went alone into the woods and began to pity myself, saying, "I have no mother; no one loves me, and I wish I were where mother is." All at once I found myself praying, and I kept it up for quite awhile, and finally I crept back into some underbrush and hid myself. I prayed, "Oh Lord, have mercy upon me, please have mercy upon my soul."

        Of course I had heard others say these words as they were praying. Nevertheless I was sincere but I did not know how to trust the Lord, and to exercise the appropriate faith. I had heard older ones say, "pray through," and I had often heard others tell about how the Lord shook their dungeon and the chains fell off, and how they had seen the devil go. Others would tell how they had asked the Lord to let a certain star shoot or to give them some sign that the work was done. I had heard and seen them as they were taken into the church. The elders were called to the front and they were asked to give in their experience, and, if their testimony did not ring clear

they were told to go back and pray through until they were sure, without the least shadow of a doubt, that the work was done.

        As I did not understand what faith was, I waited a long time upon my knees, and after my flow of tears ceased, I wondered why the work was not done, and I began to doubt. Now as night was approaching, I began to feel frightened and crept out into the open, picked up my sticks and dry brush and went home. I ofttimes sang when I was sad and I began to sing. I can not just remember the song I sang, but I believe it was this one, as I sang it so much when sad or lonely.

                         "I'm a-rollin', I'm a-rollin',
                         I'm a-rollin', through an unfriendly world,
                         I'm a-rollin', I'm a-rollin',
                         And I'll praise God when I get there.
                         Oh, brothers won't you help me,
                         Won't you help me to drive old Satan out of the way?
                         I'm a-rollin', I'm a-rollin',
                         And I'll praise God when I get home."

        In the meantime father had arrived, and my baby sister had told him my trouble, and he admonished us all.

        I kept this experience to myself, and I pondered it over in my heart. Later I joined the church, and was baptized, but I did not have a clear conception of the new birth, because I did not know clearly how to believe.

        Later on, the Christmas holidays arrived. Everyone was making presents for the Christmas tree in the church and I knew we would have no presents because we were poor, and I hated to see my little sisters

left out, so I began to plan some way to have our names called. Right here I practised my first church deception. We got together and said, "We'll put something on for you if you'll put something on for us, and we will just wrap up wooden chips in paper and put them on as though they were presents. We won't open them in the church, but we will have our names called." So we each did this, our names were called; and we received our presents, and yet there was a consciousness of guilt on us, but we never told it. We watched the other children get their presents and, as we started away, one said to the other, "It's better than any." We meant it was better than none.

        Nearly all the churches have dropped the old-fashioned Christmas tree from their entertainments. Would to God that every church entertainment might be removed, and that the Holy Spirit's infilling might take its place, for many a young girl or boy has gone to ruin and shame after taking part in some church play, or other amusement. The church entertainment became too tame for them so they took on the theater, or ball, or other sinful pleasures.

        At the age of eleven, Mrs. T. took me to St. Louis. She kept a millinery shop and would go to St. Louis to buy her stock each season. You will notice the picture with the child in my arms. She loved me almost as well as she did her mother, and I loved her like a mother.

        Her mother desired to have the child's picture taken. She didn't want to sit for it. The photographer couldn't get her to sit still; she cried for "Emmy" as she called me. They told me to take her and to get

her pacified. I did so. She put her hand against my face and pressed her cheek against mine, and the mother said, "There, take her just as she is."

        You will notice the way my hair was dressed. It was the style to wear at that time what was called "chignon" or waterfall. It was a great big amount of hair with wires run through to hold it on and make it light and puffy.

        I was very proud and had no mother to plan my clothing and I wanted to dress and keep up to the fashion. I am surprised now, that Mrs. T. allowed me to wear such, but as long as the servants were clean, they were allowed to take their choice. Older persons told me that I was too young to wear such things. From that time on, for upwards of twenty-seven years, I wore some style of false hair, changing as the fashions changed. As I grew older I became more vain. No more school for me after leaving Mrs. T. I loved to dress and go to theaters.

        Wages were better, my father did not need my help, and the home was paid for. My two younger sisters were old enough to work themselves, and in the meantime the sister older than I and the one younger died, also one brother. I found out that I belonged to a tubercular family. But, notwithstanding, I forgot all about my religious training and all I could think about was having a good time.

        I left home and went to Western Missouri. I worked out, and came home every once in a while to see my father, and then went again. I tried to make myself believe there was no God, but I soon gave that idea up. I was afraid to die and did not let myself think about it.

        "NURSE EMMY" AND THE CHILD WHO LOVED HER

CHAPTER IV
MEETS MR. RAY

        I met my future husband, L. P. Ray, in Carthage, Missouri, in '81. He was young like myself and had not been from home very long. Mr. Ray's home was in Emporia, Kansas. We were married in Fredonia, Kansas, in '87. He learned the trade of stone-cutter and mason. We were very happy for a short time. Later, my husband began to drink, not so very heavily at first. I knew that he drank when we were married, but I didn 't think much of it at that time. I thought so long as he could take a drink or let it alone when he liked, it was all right. I thought it looked manly for him to smoke a cigar. I didn 't give it much thought, until it began to come so often--then our trouble began. When I woke up I found that he had become a drunkard. The class of men that he worked with was made up of drinking men, and he always said that he felt he had to be a man among men. When they got their pay they would all take a drink around. It soon came to pass that he began to lie about his wages. He got despondent afterwards, and declared that he would never take another drink, but it would not be very long--a space of possibly a week--until he would be at it again and I got to the place where I had no confidence in him. And he would say, "I'll prove to you that I will be a man yet," and then he would get morbid and say, "I'll leave this town.

If I can get away I'll go where I am not so well acquainted, and I will do better." He went ahead, as we never had money enough left to go together, but he would always send for me as soon as he could, and then we would start again to live a new life. It would not be very long before it would be the same old drink, the same old devil, the same old sin. I had a temper equal to a tigress. And a drinking man and a woman with a high temper make a home a hell. Many a night have I wept all night and wet my pillow with tears. He would always be sorry afterwards and say, "I will never do it again." But of course the habit was on him, and his associations were bad, and he had not the power within himself to resist the temptation.

        I got tired of moving. It seemed as though we could never settle down, or get anything together. Ofttimes he would put a little money in the bank, and take it right out again; once he told me I could put it in the bank myself. He brought his wages home Saturday night when he was not drinking. I put it in the bank on Monday, and for once I thought we had some money ahead. I noticed that he came home drunk at times. I asked him where he got his drink, and he said, "I didn 't spend any money for it, the boys treated." Finally I found out that we had not a cent in the bank. As fast as I put it in he was writing it out on a check; then it would be the same old quarrel, until my soul got sick and faint within me. At first he was not a quarrelsome man; I would do the quarreling, but later on when he was drinking, he got so he would quarrel with me, and not only with me, but with others. He went into saloons and

once got into a fight over a dog and was arrested and put into jail. He never laid in jail more than over night, as he always worked and had many friends, also, who drank. I found out that my married life was a disappointment to me as well as to him. I often felt that I would leave him, if I had a child, or some one to love.

        I was of a jealous disposition, and then after attending dances we came home and quarreled. I got so sick of it, that one time after he was arrested for drunkenness, I said to him, "Let's get religion." He told me not to start something, and of course I did not say any more to him. When he came home he always brought the Salvation Army paper, "War Cry" for me to read on Sunday. In one of the "War Crys" was a cartoon of a Salvation Army band going up the street blowing its horns and beating its drums, and back up in the alley was an empty barrel, and a poor old drunk had heard the music of the band and was creeping out of the barrel. He had been awakened by their songs and music--oh, I remember what an impression it left upon me, and I wondered whether my husband would quit his drinking, if he was saved. We seldom went to church, as I could not get him to go with me. I got books--novels--and read all day to him to get him to stay at home.

        Although a sinner, I did my cooking on Saturday. The influence of Mrs. T. stayed with me, and I never worked on Sunday. I always kept my little house clean and did everything to make it attractive, hoping that I could win him. He was not unkind, except when he had been drinking. He was not unkind then, unless I disturbed him, and when I saw him

coming in drunk,--(perhaps I had waited all day or maybe late at night)--the minute I laid my eyes on him, as the saying is, "the devil would be to pay" and I could not hold my tongue, as he always wanted to make believe he was not drunk. With a drunken man and a high-tempered woman you can imagine what the result would be. Every time I went to a ball I came home with a conviction on my heart that I was doing wrong. Even while I was on the floor dancing, a sadness would come over me. I often wished I was dead and would threaten to kill myself, but did not have the courage to do so. I was afraid of hell. Oh, praise the Lord for deliverance.

        He had promised before coming to Seattle, that when he got here he would quit drinking and would buy us a little home. We would pay no more rent and would live in a shanty until we got money enough. He bought a little shanty, and we lived there until we were converted. There were but a few of our own people in Seattle when we came, and at times I got very lonely. I had a dear friend who died after giving me a birthday party. I went to see her one day and found her sick, very sick. I remained with her all day and promised to come back the following day. The next day I went back, after doing my work in the morning, and found there was crepe on the door and oh, it was such a shock. We had just had a dance a night or two previous. We had talked the day before, and she was called away so suddenly. It seemed to take my strength, and I seemed unable to get over it, and something began to tell me that if I did not get right, I was liable to die and not be prepared. (This friend of mine belonged to the Catholic church.)

        In the meantime a colored church was organized in Seattle--The African Methodist--and there was a conference being held. I persuaded my husband to go with me, and we went on Sunday morning, and I sat and cried throughout the meeting. I hardly knew why. I felt somewhat ashamed when I got home. On Monday I was very blue and felt that life was a failure, and I wondered whether I should go and see another friend, with whom I often talked about my troubles. She would send out and get a bucket of beer, and we would sit and tell about our sorrows and our husbands. I did not know I was under conviction. I felt I should die. I started from the house, reached the corner of the street and something seemed to say, "Why not go to the church?" I stood for a few minutes and I decided, "Well, I'll just go." I had on a new dress Sunday, and I also had another new dress. I said, "I'll wear this one today." I thought I would show my good clothes. When I reached the church, a young man was preaching. I shall never forget the text. He was preaching for the first time--his first sermon--and it seemed as though the bishop and the rest of the preachers were all sleepy. The text was, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock, and if any man open, I will come in and sup with him and he with me." He remarked, "He is knocking at the door of some heart today," and I felt that he was talking to me. As the Spirit began to move, the bishop woke up. The preacher went on to tell about a friend of his (a school teacher), who was under conviction at one time and he did not yield to the Spirit's wooing. Finally he went into the country to teach school, and he was taken ill suddenly

and when the preacher went to see him he said, "I can't pray now. Oh, I wish I had prayed when I was at church that time; I wish I could feel now as I did then." The tears began to roll down my cheeks. I was afraid to use my handkerchief for fear people would notice it. The brother of this friend of mine that had died, had lately been converted. He came over and spoke to me and asked me to come to Jesus, when the call was made to the altar, and I told him I could not go there. I would go some day, not now; the thoughts kept running through my mind, "You can't be a Christian and live with that man, and you know the Odd Fellows are going to have a dance. If you get saved, your husband will go to the dance, and he will be flirting, and you will have to go and watch." We never went to any place alone. With all our troubles, one would never go without the other. This helped to hold us together. So I said, "Not today," and yet the preacher kept saying, "Behold I stand at the door and knock." He kept rapping on the pulpit, and I felt as though a hammer was striking my heart and breaking it in pieces, and I wept all the more. Just about that time, a sinner, an old friend of ours, got up and made a bee-line for the altar, and the Christians began to say "Amen," and the preacher seemed to plead more earnestly. Then this young man who was talking to me spoke about his sister, and the thought of her sudden death flashed through my mind. I said, "Oh, I can't be a Christian now and live with the devil. I will some day." A voice seemed to say, "This is your last opportunity to be saved." I could not sit any longer. I felt as though some unseen hand had taken hold of me, and before I knew

it, I ran to the altar, fell on my knees and said, "Yes, Lord, have mercy on me and I will serve you all my life."

        Sister Roy, a very devout sister, and others came and spoke to me and said, "Just give up; this is the very best step you have ever taken in your life." I said, "I will. Lord, have mercy upon me and save me." Right then and there my burden rolled away, and daylight broke into my soul. Oh, praise the Lord. I sprang to my feet and said, "I am saved," and began to sing. At the same time there were two others saved beside myself. Oh, that was a happy day. I felt it would be good to die then and there. The Christians all rejoiced and said, "We have got the queen," as I was quite a leader in the dances and in society. We gave quite a few dances in our home. They seemed to feel that the dancing crowd was broken up. As I started to my home the devil began to talk to me. He said, "Now what will you do? You know you can't live with him and be a Christian." As I went into the door he was at home. I felt so new and so light; it was a new world, for I was born again, this time from above. I said to him, "I have been to church today and am saved." He looked very much surprised and could not say anything. I looked at him a little while and began to cry. He would not talk with me about it, and I could see right then that I should have a battle if I kept saved. Then I said, "I have promised that I would serve the Lord, if He would take the burden off my heart, and that I would be true to God, if I had to leave you." But, oh, how my heart yearned to have him come with me. He did brace up for

awhile, quit drinking and went to church with me Sunday mornings. He was glad I was a Christian, and wanted me to say my prayers before retiring, and when I failed to to so, he would tell me about it. I prayed to myself, not audibly, I did not have courage to offer prayer with him. He wanted me to keep saved, but would not come with me. I was so happy for awhile, it seemed I was in a new world. I was not afraid to die, and had great peace of soul until I got my eyes off from the Lord upon him. I was ignorant of the Way. I did not know what the word consecration meant. How I do praise the Lord for being so patient with me.

        Later my husband tried to encourage me, and I persuaded him to go with me to church. After awhile, he began to drink again. I did not feel like getting angry as before but would cry, get heavy hearted, and discouraged. Some of the older Christians visited me, and I would take courage as they asked me out to church on Sunday, saying, "We missed you." Again I took courage and said, "I'll stick to it and not give up." I want to stop right here and say, "How many opportunities for doing good we let slip, because we are not awake to our privileges. Many a heart is aching, if we could read them all, and a kind word or a prayer would go a long way in helping a groping soul out of its misery." So it was in my case.

        There were real mothers of the church, especially Sister L. Roy. For though we had ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet we had not many mothers. I went to church on Sunday mornings, but I never got out at night. I was afraid to leave Mr. Ray for fear

he would go off to the saloon. For awhile he stayed at home on Sunday mornings while I was away. Later on when I came home from church he would be gone, and I would sit and wait all day long, get dinner, but I could never eat if he didn't come. It would take away my appetite. Then I would begin to get angry and try not to. I would look for him and wish he would arrive. I would get real mad, and just about the time I was the maddest, he would come in, or I would look and see him come staggering down the road, and then I would think, "He must not speak a word to me, or he will hear from me." When he came in, he would want to talk, and I would say, "Keep your mouth shut, and we will have no trouble. If you don't we will have trouble," and then he would get mad, and I would say things I should not have said. As he would swear at me, it hurt me so bad I would use the same words back at him, and then he would say, "Now you're a Christian; you're a fine one; you had better go and pray." Then I would turn my tongue loose, as I felt that I had already given away to my temper, and give him a piece of my mind--later I would wish I had it back again. I would cry all night and repent the next day, and I would think "It's of no use; I will not go to church again." Therefore I did not grow in grace and was not strong. If I went to church, I could not pray and I could not testify. I was backslidden in heart. I became tired of it all; it seemed so hard to live a Christian life. I did not thoroughly understand what consecration was and did not know that the Lord could take that distrust out of my heart, and let me trust Him entirely. I wondered where it

would all end. I was afraid to go back, and yet I was back, but had not confessed it.

        Later on there came a little evangelist from Texas, who was filled with the Holy Spirit, to hold a revival for us. He held a revival in our church, and my, how he uncovered sin, especially in the professed Christians. I went to church Sunday morning. He said, "You professed Christian women who have husbands that are not saved, you don't pray enough. What one of you will lead the prayer meeting tomorrow? We want to have a prayer meeting every evening at seven o'clock. We want to put these unsaved husbands on the prayer list." My, I felt bad. A friend of mine that also had an unsaved husband came out with me, and we happened to meet the evangelist and she told him, "I can not pray in public, because I have heart failure," and I said, "Don't expect me to, I don't believe in women praying in public." He didn't say a word.

        The next night I persuaded my husband to go with me. I thought the evangelist would excuse me, as the other preachers always did. That night he got right up and said, "We have some women here that have asked me not to call on them to pray. We want no cowards in our band who will their colors fly." He looked right over at me, and I felt that everybody knew he was talking to me. I got mad and when I came out I told my husband what I had said to him, and he began to make fun of me. "That's right, if you can not pray, get down and out," and he laughed at me. I felt so ashamed, yet I felt I dared not try it.

        All the next day I kept saying, "Well, I am neither a Christian, nor am I a sinner. I am not having the

pleasure that I had before I was saved." As I thought over this, I said, "I'll go and try to pray and do the best I can, but if I do so, my husband will leave me, because he will be at the saloon every night while I am at church. I will have to give him up, but I have started now and I am going through, so I will go tonight and try." I thought, "I will have to give him up, I am going to leave him, or he will leave me. I am not happy anyway, so I will go and do my duty." Then the thought came to me. Treat him with courtesy, ask him to go with you, and if there is any leaving done, let him do it. I thought again, "What shall I do? I am not able to do hard work," and then I thought, "I will go out nursing children," and I had it all planned out, as to what I should do. But I asked him that evening if he would not go with me, and he said, "No." I said, "All right, my dear, I have followed you as far as I can, and if you will go to hell, you will have to go by yourself. I am going to serve the Lord from this time on."

        I never shall forget how I went up the hill. It was seven o'clock in the summer time, and as I went up the hill I looked up to the sky, and said, "Oh, God! I love him so, but I will follow Thee. I have never had a mother or anyone to love me, and now my life is a disappointment." All at once it seemed that a voice said to me, "You can love me," and I said, "Oh, Lord! Do take that love, that foolish love that I have in my heart for that man, and let me love Thee, and I will serve Thee as long as I live." And oh, how light my heart got. Right there I was reclaimed. I told them that I would lead the meeting, and when I

went in, I walked up to one of the older sisters and said, "I will take the meeting," and she said, "Praise the Lord." She was glad.

        I don't know what I said, and I don't know what I read, but it was very few words and oh! it was such a relief, and such a blessing came to my heart, because I had obeyed. That night when the preacher preached, he took the subject, "You must come down." It was very touching. I followed him all through the sermon, and he told how everybody had to bow the knee and confess to God, and I wondered to myself if it would ever be possible that Lloyd Ray would confess, or come down, and I said, "No, not he; he loves drink too well." As I went home that night from the meeting very much blessed I said, "Well I know he will not be there; he will be in the saloon; but I will go home and say my prayers and go to bed, because we are going to part. I have the Lord now and He loves me."

        To my surprise, when I got on the side of the hill, I saw a light in the window and I said, "What, can it be possible that he is there, and has not gone to the saloon?" As I opened the door and went in, I walked over to where he was sitting and said, "Oh, you should have gone to church tonight and heard the sermon. The preacher says, "You must come down. I am so glad you will have to come down some day, maybe when it will be too late." He didn't answer me a word. I knelt down beside the bed, took up my cross and prayed.

        The evangelist had asked the people to pray for him, and we had put all those on a prayer list who wanted to have prayers for their people. He called

the prayer list a chain, and every person was a link in this chain, so that when we prayed for them and they were present, they would know for whom we were praying, and we would just ask the Lord to break the chain. He had everybody pray unitedly in the morning at four o'clock, to break the chain.

        The next day, I sang all day. I sang old songs I had forgotten, songs I had heard in my childhood days. Husband was not working, and he never came home through the day. He stayed in the saloon until night. This day he went away, and it was not long until he was back, but I did not say anything to him, I just sang and prayed. He went into the woods and sawed logs all day. When evening came, we did not hold much conversation, but I said to him, "Will you go to church with me tonight?" He said, "After awhile I will come over." Oh! how I ran up that hill. It seemed as though my feet hit only the high places. I had such joy in my heart, and I kept saying, "After awhile, after awhile." I was surprised that he was so willing to come. We had a good prayer service, and when the time came for the evening service, he came in and walked right to the front seat and sat down beside me. I was delighted. The preacher spoke of the Love of God that night, and then he spoke of woman's love, how a mother loved her children, and a woman, her husband. He said, "I have heard them say, 'I could take my heart out for him'." As he said these words, my husband twisted and turned from one side to the other. It seemed as though the very bench he sat on was afire. Finally the preacher made the altar call, and he said, "You Christians go back there and speak to those sinners."

I thought, "Oh, whom can I speak to? I never spoke to these sinners. I have gone to parties and dances with my husband, and though I have stopped dancing, they know I have not been a good Christian; I am ashamed to speak to them." But he said, "Move out," and I remembered what I had promised the Lord. I looked around to see whom I could speak to with the least embarrassment. There was a little woman that I was well acquainted with, very kind, who always had a smile on her face, although she was not saved. I walked up to her and asked her to come with me to the altar. She laughed right in my face. That made me feel ashamed, but I took courage and said, "I know I have not lived as a consistent Christian should, and have never said anything to you before, but from this time on, I intend to do so, and walked away." Later on we had the privilege of seeing both this lady and her husband saved in their own home, while my husband and I were making our house-to-house visits. She said she laughed that night because she did not know what to say. She lived and died in the faith several years later. Her husband is a member of the Baptist church at this writing. We give God all the glory. Amen.

        I was afraid to speak to anyone else, so I started back to my seat feeling I had tried to do my duty, and as I returned, I noticed there was an old lady speaking to my husband, and he was all broken up and was standing there weeping. It struck me so hard I got weak in the knees, and the first thought that came to me was, "let me get away, I don't want to go near him," and I went in another direction. I remembered how I had sworn at him; how angry I

had gotten at him and I couldn't think he had any confidence in me, so I didn't want to spoil a good thing. He didn't go to the altar. The meeting closed, and some one spoke to me and said, "Your husband is coming," and I said, "I hope so."

        We walked home and we didn't speak a word to each other. When we got ready for bed, I said, "Will you pray with me?" He didn't answer me a word and went off to bed, and I prayed. The next day he got up early and went down to the saloon. I had started washing, and about nine o'clock he came back. I was surprised to see him come home, and I saw the change on his face and he looked very sorrowful. He walked in and asked me, "Do you want the clothes line put up?" Oh! such softness and tenderness there was in his voice! I said, "Yes, dear," and as he went out to put up the line, I ran behind the front door and knelt down on my knees and said, "Oh, God, kill him, kill him, kill him!" as I knew he needed nothing less than a thorough purging and killing. As he came back in I kept singing, said nothing much to him, only prayed in my heart. The day was spent very quietly between us. When evening came I said to him, "Will you go with me to church tonight?" "I will be over after awhile," was the reply. Oh! it seemed as if I were in a new world, although I had been converted. I could see that the Lord was dealing with him, and after the prayer services he came, walked up to the front where I sat and sat down by me, and I felt I had a real man. After the preaching was over the altar call was given. He got right up and walked forward and knelt down at the altar. I did not go near him, I was afraid he would think of

my life as a Christian, but I knelt and prayed where I was. Finally he rose to his feet and said that he believed that the Lord had saved him, and oh, such a bright smile was on his face. The Christians gathered around him, shook hands with him, and rejoiced, but I didn't go near until the last. I wanted to let him tell it and be sure of it before I went near him. Finally I went up, and as I got near him we embraced each other and stood and wept on each others shoulders. The preacher said to the congregation, "How many of you converts will go home and will pray with me at four o'clock this morning?" He told my husband to set up his family altar and be praying at four o'clock in the morning. We went home that night and had our prayers. As we knelt by the bed side, I prayed first as I was older; then he prayed and trembled just like a leaf, and said, "Oh, Lord, bless my wife," and I cried and raised my head up and looked at him and thought, "Is it possible this is he praying?" It seemed almost too good to be true.

        I assure you there was no sleep that night. We talked and sang and prayed and cried and laughed all night long. Then we began to confess our sins to each other, and he said, "Emma, you know that time I got drunk at a certain time and spent that money. I wouldn't have done it, but you accused me wrongfully. Will you forgive me for it?" And I replied, "Yes, I will," and then I said, "You remember that time I hit you with a cup? I knew it was wrong, but you provoked me. I am so sorry, will you forgive me?" And so we would confess, and then we would sing, and then we would cry, and then we would laugh.

        The preacher, before we left the church that night, said, "When you pray, don't pray the way the old colored man did when he said, "Oh, Lord, rub our heads against the wisdom post." The minister said, "God was our wisdom and would teach us," but as we talked it over, we said, "Thank God we can see now what the old-time fathers meant. The Lord surely has rubbed our heads against the wisdom post."

        Oh, such rays of light flooded our vision that we could see our mistakes and our sin and the enemies of our souls. No wonder the Lord said in His Word, "If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness."

        We were up at four o'clock in the morning and prayed again. Mr. Ray said, "As soon as you get my breakfast, I want to go down and see Bill." This was one of his associates that he drank with, and he said, "I will be back at noon, and then we will go again to our friends and tell them what the Lord has done for us." He went down to the old corner where he drank. It was called "Billy-the-Mug's" saloon. There he met his friend Jack with some others and he told Jack all about it. He will tell you of his conversion in his experience later. But he was home at noon. We had prayer and started out again.

        In the afternoon we went to those with whom we had danced, drank beer, and played cards, and told them what the Lord had done for us, and everywhere we went we sang and prayed, then went right out and left them weeping.

CHAPTER V
MR. RAY'S TESTIMONY

        I was born in 1860, February 8th, in the State of Texas at Kentucky Town. I was born of a slave mother; I am told that my father was white. I know nothing of a father's counsel, and if I am anything at all, it is because I am what I am by the grace of God and my mother's prayers. My mother was a devout Christian, the mother of seventeen children, and a Baptist by faith. All the rest of my family are Baptists. We remained in Texas after we obtained our freedom until I was ten years old, then we went to Emporia, Kansas. I did not have much schooling, as times were hard and most of us had to work, so we got along in some way. Like most boys, when I was large enough to earn wages I quit going to school; so I have had to face the world with a meager education. I thank the Lord that He found me and saved me just as I was, in my ignorance and sin.

        I left home at the age of nineteen and I have never forgotten how my mother cried over me at that time. While I was at home she would pray for us, especially on Sunday mornings. She would gather us in and, oh, how she would pray for us! She would clasp her hands and then raise them up and cry, and then she would bring them down on the chair and repeat her prayer, and it would make me feel so bad. If mother would only stop crying.

        MR. RAY AT SIXTEEN YEARS OF AGE

        She said she wanted me to be her preacher, but I replied in my heart, "Anything but a preacher," and said all kinds of mean things about preachers. I did not like them, as she always entertained the preachers in our home, and I remember the time when she had a number of them at dinner, and she put the good things on the table for them to eat. We were not accustomed to eating biscuits in those days, and I watched her take the biscuits out of the old-fashioned skillet, cooked with a lid in front of the fire place, with coals over the top and coals in the bottom. My, how my mouth watered for those biscuits! I was so afraid that the preachers would eat them all, and she kept saying to them, "Have another one;" and they would say, "Yes, Sister Mary, I will;" and they would brag about her good cooking. I watched her until she had taken out the last biscuit and put it upon the table, and as she passed the plate around, she told them to help themselves, and when they had taken the last one, I said to my brother who was sitting with me, "There, Ben, the last biscuit is gone." She didn't say anything to me then. I knew when the last one went that it meant corn bread for my dinner. But after the preachers all left I got a flogging, so I did not like the preachers and said I would never be one.

        Mother's prayers followed me wherever I went. Like most boys, I wanted to become a man. So I began to drink and do the other things that went with it. Drink got the best of me from time to time and at last it got me down. I quit writing home. Ofttimes I would get under deep conviction and get drunk to drown it. When I was in the saloons, and the Salvation

Army women came to sell their "War Cry," because I was under conviction and wanted to do something good, I would buy one. Ofttimes we would get into disputes over religion. I always respected it in a sense and did not want to hear any person ridicule my mother's religion and sometimes got into a fight over it. There are others who feel the same way.

        I wandered from place to place until, finally, I came to Seattle, July 6th, 1889. The city was burned down in ashes and I came to help build it up, as I was a stone mason and cutter by trade. It was first built up of tents, and saloons were at every door. The temptation was terrific and drinking everywhere. Beer by the water buckets was on the job from morning until night. Thus it got me farther down. But my mother's prayers followed me wherever I went. I could not get away from them.

        About this time a revival meeting was held in the African Methodist church. This was the time I was born again. I praise the dear Lord that the same fire burns in my heart now, as I think of God's mighty power to save. That night the conviction was pungent. I had been under it for two days. I was in the habit of going to the saloon every morning when I was working, to get my "morning's morning" as I called it. I thought I would go down and take a drink this morning, but my sins lay heavy upon me. I went into a saloon and took a drink and came home, something I was not in the habit of doing. I stayed at home all day, and the next day I went back. I thought I could fight the conviction off. I went to the bar and called for a whiskey, but something came up in my throat, and my heart was so heavy I could

not drink. I shoved it to one side and said, "Give me a beer." They gave me the beer, and the same lump came in my throat, and I could not drink it. I shoved that to one side and said, "Give me a cigar," and paid my bill and walked out, never to go in again. As I started up the hill towards home I said, "What's the matter with me?" I said I would pray, but I never had prayed and I found myself standing still in the street, wondering if I could be saved. I came to the house, and when I saw my wife I felt sorry for the way I had talked to her about her religion, and at times after casting it up to her I would feel bad, but would not tell her so. I did not want her to backslide. At times I would tell her to go pray or say her prayers,--if she went to bed without them, and said so in the way of a joke. I am glad she did not give up entirely, and I thank the Lord that she held on to Him for me. I went to the church that night and went to the altar. I don't remember many of the words that I used.

        "I said, "I can not pray," and some one said, "Say, 'God be merciful to me, a sinner'." I repeated that prayer until I knew I was saved. Talking about moving pictures, I saw them before they were ever put on. That night my whole past life passed before me and, as each sin flashed upon the screen, the Lord would say, "Will you give up that sin," and I would say, "Yes, Lord." "And this one," and I would answer, "Yes." They continued to pass this way until I had said, "Yes" to the last one and I felt clear before God, and my sins were all washed through the blood of my Savior, praise the Lord. Oh, praise the Lord, the fire is burning now and has been for thirty years.

        We had a glorious time when we went to our home. Then I set up my family altar and it has never been taken down. The first thought that came to me was of my mother as she had not heard from me for nineteen years. I sat down and wrote her a letter and told her that I was saved. I told her that I was delivered from the drink appetite, and I have never wanted it from that night up to the present moment. I praise the Lord for taking away the tobacco appetite also. I had one equal to the worst you could think of, and as to swearing, I had no equal, but it went with all of the devil's goods. When my mother received my letter she was the happiest woman in Emporia. She took the letter and went to the other children and had some one read it, as she went from home to home. She could not read herself. Then she would shout and praise the Lord for what He had done for her boy. At this time most of her children were alive and lived close to mother. She said she wore the letter out, carrying it around with her and having it read. She would take it with her when she went to wash, and have the white people whom she was working for, read it. I wrote her eight pages on foolscap paper. I thank the Lord for the privilege of sending for her later on. She came to my home and stayed with me for one year. I went back and visited her twice afterward before she died at the age of ninety-five. She was converted when but a child, in the year that the stars fell, in 1833.

        On the third day of July, 1906, I was baptised in Lake Washington. I wrote to her and told her the day I would be baptised by immersion. They say she got very happy at church that Sunday. While

visiting here she received the blessing of full salvation. Oh, mothers never stop praying for your boys! Hold on to God, He will answer prayer. Prayer changes things and, in spite of my dislike for preachers, I am glad of the privilege of now being a preacher of righteousness for His name's sake.

CHAPTER VI
MRS. RAY'S SANCTIFICATION

        Soon after Brother Ray's conversion, some white people came to our church. We thank the Lord for them. They had the experience of full salvation. A man by the name of Clark and his wife, also an aged man whose name I have forgotten. All gave their experiences, telling how the Lord had cleansed them from inbred sin. They gave us some chalk-talks from the blackboard, describing the natural heart, the justified heart, and also the sanctified heart, illustrating by drawing three hearts and showing the fruit of each one. It was very interesting to some, but I did not understand it.

        Our pastor seemed to be hungry for a clean heart and so were several of the members, and he advised us all to seek the experience. He said it could be obtained, and that we could live without sin. We were both then walking in the light, keeping up our family prayers, and were praying in secret three times a day, sometimes oftener, reading our Bibles, and were hungry for the blessed experience, as our pastor took the lead. We could see such a difference in his preaching.

        The old gentleman referred to, visited from house to house and prayed with us. He said the Lord sent him to us. I was very much blessed. He gave us some tracts to read, but later went away. We have

never heard from him since. We have often wished we knew where he was, so as to write and tell him that we had sought and obtained the blessing. Some of our church members did not believe we could live without sin, and ridiculed the preacher and persecuted those who had the experience. Nevertheless we often found ourselves yearning for the Holy Ghost. We would weep when others would tell about it. I had some very previous times in my secret devotions, and ofttimes was blessed and happy. I had quit my backsliding, didn't get angry outwardly, and if anyone spoke evil of me I didn't like it, but could keep still. Oh! how I longed for that perfect peace which I saw in others' lives. I heard a white lady preacher, a United Presbyterian, tell that the baptism of the Holy Spirit was the promise of the Father, and He could fill us with Himself and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. After preaching, she would say, "Now all who want this experience arise." We did so. Then she would say, "Stay right there," but she didn't give us an opportunity to seek. She did not tell me the way through to victory; and I became so hungry, and craved the baptism of the Holy Spirit day and night. I did everything that others told me to do, and tried to get it just as they did. My pastor said he went into his closet, and told the Lord he would stay there until he received the blessing. I tried that, got tired and came out, as my mind began to wander upon other things. I found myself, while washing, at a standstill over my tub, praying for the baptism of the Holy Ghost. I went to see Sister L. Roy, my mother in Christ, and inquired of her how she got the blessing. She said they told

her, when she prayed, to believe that she received, and she did believe and the Holy Spirit fell upon her. She was so blest that she ran through the room, praising the Lord, for His Holy Spirit had come into her heart to abide. Her joy seemed to be so great that it made me hunger all the more. I went home and tried that out, saying, "Lord, I believe; give me Thy Holy Spirit's baptism." Then I said, "Now I have received Him." I remained quiet for a few minutes, and before I knew it, I said again, "Oh, Lord give me the Holy Spirit, wash my heart and make me clean." I kept this up all night, and the next day was the Sabbath. I went out to our little church. We had no preacher. The conference had moved our former pastor, because some objected to his preaching holiness.

        A few of us knelt to pray, and while I was praying, saying the same thing over, "Please sanctify me," the Spirit whispered softly, "Why do you pray longer? Can't you believe?" I stopped for a few seconds. It seemed that I could pray no farther. I reminded myself of a chicken dying with the gaps. I had gapped and gapped until I died, and right there I died and said, "Have Thy way." It flashed upon me that I was seeking the experience my way and was trying to feel like others did. The Spirit then said, "Believe the Lord and receive the Holy Spirit." I said, "Lord, I take Thee at Thy word; I believe Thou dost sanctify me just now." One of the sisters was praying and I could hardly wait until she was through, to tell it. As she finished, I arose to my feet and said, "I am sanctified, I take the Lord at His word right now." The pilgrims rejoiced, and I

felt as peaceful as though my struggles were over, and yet I did not have the demonstration that they had manifested. I then said, "I don't feel as you do, but I take the Lord by faith." I returned home in a very quiet attitude, and went about my home singing, Blessed Assurance, Jesus is mine," not expecting any more witness of His Spirit, only a quiet, peaceful soul rest. On Wednesday afternoon I lay down upon my couch reading a little book on "The Assurance." The question was asked in the book, "Reader, have you met these conditions?" I said, "I have," and as I answered, "I have," all of a sudden it seemed that a streak of lightning had struck over the corner of the house, and it struck me on the top of the head, and went through my body from head to foot like liquid fire, and my whole body tingled. I tried to rise and was so weak I fell back upon the lounge and I said, "What, Lord?" and there came another dash of glory through my being and a voice inside of me said, "Holy." I tried to rise, but had not the strength and I cried, "O, glory! The Holy Ghost has come into my heart." As my strength began to return, I felt a passion, such a love for souls as I had never felt before. I saw a lost world. My heart became hot. A fire of holy, abiding love for God and souls was kindled at that hour and I felt to say with Isaiah, "Here am I, Lord, send me." It was the fire that still burns in my soul this very moment, and I feel it will last until Jesus comes. I have often been tried and tempted by wicked men and devils. There has never been a moment that I have had a shadow of a doubt concerning my baptism of the Holy Ghost and fire. Oh, hallelujah! He

abides. He abides. I am glad the Spirit helped me to receive Him by faith. I can see now it would have been injurious to me to have the feelings when I wanted them, for now when I have no feelings I walk by faith. Otherwise I would always be in doubt as to my baptism by the Holy Spirit. Since then I have made many blunders and mistakes. The judgments of my head are at times imperfect, but, thank the Lord He keeps the motives of my heart pure through the power of the Holy Spirit.

        There came to us another pastor, and he did not believe in the experience of entire sanctification. Many of the members did not understand us and there was considerable persecution. They told us we professed to live without sin, which was impossible. We tried to explain to them how we could sin if we desired to, but as we walked in the light and trusted in the cleansing blood of Jesus, He could keep us the rest of our lives without actual transgression. This we purposed to do. The persecution grew hotter until we were forbidden by our pastor to testify to it. About this time there was a big convention held in the First Presbyterian Church by Rev. A. B. Simpson, and Stephen Merritt, of New York, under the auspices of the Christian and Missionary Alliance. Some of us attended. There the Lord wonderfully poured out His Spirit in sanctifying and healing power; our souls were encouraged and helped. Brother Ray came home. He said he had been seeking while away and was hungry for a clean heart. He fasted and prayed and read his Bible. It did not take him so long to enter into the experience as it did me.

        He went one evening to a Mission on Third Street.

There he heard a Bible Reading on the baptism of the Holy Ghost. He had also read the Scripture in Acts, 2nd chapter, and in Acts 19:4, 5, and other chapters about receiving the Holy Spirit. It seemed so easy for him to believe. After praying at the altar a short while, he did not demonstrate, but I could see that he had received the blessing. He said "I am satisfied now." It came like a still, small voice. It seemed to settle him down so deep in God. He did not seem to have a shadow of a doubt about it, and his life was so steady and calm. He loved his Bible. It was a new book to him as well as to myself. We saw new beauties every time we opened it. We said to each other, "O, how precious is this new light!" We never knew there were so many words about the Holy Spirit and its workings. We could not keep it. We told our pastor and all our friends. We thought they would all be glad, but some did not understand; others ridiculed. Now we were consecrated and fitted for service, the burden for lost souls came on our hearts with greater zeal and joy than ever.

        A great light flooded our souls, and immediately the Holy Spirit began to lead us out into deeper depths. We found Him to be a Comforter and Reprover. The Scriptures plainly say, "When He comes He will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment" (John 16:8).

        He didn't give us all the light at one time, but later, little by little, as we were able to receive it. Neither did we speak in tongues, but He gave us a new tongue to testify and tell the glad tidings. We could also see the fields that were white, and our work lay before us as we caught the vision.

        Old wrongs had been made right, old debts paid, the tenth of our income was being given to the Lord. We were standing in our places ready for the battle, and waiting for orders at the Spirit's command.

        THE COLORED W. C. T. U. OF SEATTLE, WASHINGTON. MRS. L. P. RAY
(FOURTH FROM LEFT IN CENTER ROW) WAS FOR MANY YEARS THE
PRESIDENT

CHAPTER VII
COLORED W. C. T. U. ORGANIZED

        Some ladies of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union came to our church to organize a union among us. We were finally organized and I was made president. Everything was new to us. There were fourteen or fifteen other sisters in the union. What a revelation it was to us! There were forty-two departments in the W. C. T. U. work at that time. We were anxious to work, but didn't know how to start. Mrs. Mary Wade was the County president, and Mrs. Emma Wood was the secretary. We received great encouragement from Mrs. Libbie Beach-Brown also.

        I shall never forget the first County convention that was held soon afterward, and our little union had the honor of entertaining them. Each department gave its report. How my heart did go out for the lost and the drunkard. I sat and listened eagerly and wondered what I could do, or how to begin, and as I listened the tears rolled down my cheeks. I said, "Oh, how blind I have been; I want to do something, too!" I prayed the Holy Spirit to show me my special work. I sat and cried through the meeting at every report, saying, "How blind I have been; what can I do?" When the afternoon session came, they said, "We have just fifteen minutes for testimony." I said, "Oh, thank the Lord, I can tell of Jesus' power to save," and when the opportunity was given, I was

on my feet and that was a great consolation to me. I remember, while I sat weeping, I had looked into my song book and I turned to a song--

                         "Come, ye disconsolate, wher'er ye languish,
                         Come to the mercy-seat, fervently kneel,
                         Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
                         Earth hath no sorrow that heaven can not heal."

        I took courage from that moment and said, "The Lord will give me, too, something to do."

        At our next local meeting we decided to hold our meetings monthly. We went out and hunted those that were sick, and wherever we could get an opening. It was wonderful how the Spirit led and we began "to do with our might what our hands found to do." It seemed as though there were many opportunities for helping the sick. We had our prayer meetings with our friends, and the Lord began right there to pour out His Spirit in a marvelous way. Some were converted in their homes. We had the opportunity of going with Sister Roy to visit the jails at that time. I testified to the prisoners--told them of a better way, and how the Lord had delivered my husband from drink.

        One evening, soon after, we were sitting in our home reading, and all at once a stone came through the window. My husband went out and looked around, but could see no one. Finally he hid himself and watched, and soon another stone came. This time he saw the youngsters and ran after them. To his surprise, they were girls, two girls, not over twelve or fourteen years of age. He caught one and the other one ran away. I came out myself and he held her until I came up the steps. She screamed so loudly

that it brought out the neighbors. I told her that we would either take her to her mother, or call the police. We didn't let her go, because we felt it was our duty to inform her parents, and so she consented to go to her mother. We went with her down near Yesler Way, and as we entered the house we found the mother in a very drunken condition, drinking beer and smoking. We told her we had come to bring her daughter home. She swore at her. It made our hearts ache to see such a scene. There were a drunken man and several other persons in the house. The mother promised to take care of her girl. A little later, we went one Sunday to our jail work, and as we lined up before the bars and began to sing we saw a man who stood back in his cell. As he looked out and saw Mr. Ray, he stepped out and began to cry. He cried all through the meeting. Mr. Ray told of his conversion,--what a drunkard he had been, and how sin had got him into jail through drunkenness. The man wept sorely. As soon as our meeting closed, he came up to the window and said, "Well, Ray, is this you? I am surprised. I know what a drunkard you were. Would to God I had what you have." Mr. Ray asked him what crime he had committed, and he told him, "I killed a man last week. I stabbed him in my yard after he left my house." And he said, "Oh! if I had only known of this salvation, I might not have been here, but it is too late." During the testimony I had given my experience too. He said, "I remember the time Mr. Ray had a fight in the saloon, and how I took his part. I am so glad you are saved, and your wife also." He asked us to go and see his wife. He said, "She drinks hard, and I

was jealous of the man I found in my house, as he hung around so much. I do love my wife and I want her to quit drinking. If you tell her your testimony and tell her I sent you, perhaps she will quit." We promised we would do as he requested. We went to a house down below the sidewalk on Yesler Way, a little dirty, dingy room, and there to our surprise we found the girl who threw the rock and the mother, beastly drunk on the bed, and the girl was smoking cigarets. Oh! such a sad home of sin and depravity! I could not help but weep, and thought perhaps that would have been our fate, if we had not been delivered from sin. We told her that her husband had sent us. She was almost too drunk to talk intelligently. She said, "Charley was a good man, but it was the drink that got him. I know he would not have killed the man if he had been sober."

        We told her he wanted her to give her heart to the Lord, and he also wanted us to tell her what the Lord had done for us. As we told her, she sobered up a little and wept. We asked for the privilege of prayer and she said, "It's too late now. Charley is liable to be hung, and I feel that I am the cause of it." We read the Bible, prayed with her and left her weeping. She had sorrow, but it was not of a godly sort. It was because her sins had found her out. Her husband was given a light sentence, twenty-two years in the penitentiary, and the last we knew of wife and daughter they were still leading a life of sin and shame. My prayer to the Lord for them was, "Lord, I pray Thee to stop them in their mad career, before it is eternally too late."

        From this time on the Lord gave us work. We

found much to do. We felt so sad to see what sin had wrought. We kept up our monthly meetings, visited homes and sat with the sick. We were delighted to go into homes and clean them up, scrub and wash and do anything we could. Then, too, the sisters were very faithful and worked with us. Finally, as our meeting progressed, our pastor began to find fault and thought we had plenty of work to do in the church, and that it was the church's work that should be done. He didn't see any need of working around with this class of people and he kept objecting until some of the sisters became discouraged. He wanted them to give entertainments and do all they could to get the church out of debt. When we went to church on Sunday we came home sorrowful. After awhile some of the sisters began to drop out; thought their first duty was to their church, and this was only a W. C. T. U. Oh! how sorry I felt when they began to get discouraged, because the Lord had saved so many at home and we had our mothers' meetings. Quite a number had been converted and had joined the church, but our pastor did not believe in the work of the W. C. T. U. At our next monthly meeting, several of the women gave in their resignations and said, "We will have to work in the church." I said, "This is the church work." It seemed as though my heart would break, and I wept. Just before kneeling in prayer, the song came to me, "Nearer, my God, to Thee, e'en though it be a cross that raiseth me." It seemed as though, when I sang my second line, I was being brought nearer to Him, although it was a great cross to give up my sisters; but I told them I would come to the church and would help with their

prayer meetings, but would not take part in their socials, as the Lord had shown me a better way to labor for Him. I attended for a few times but the interest seemed to subside and finally the meetings closed. I told my companions that there were two of the sisters who thought the meetings ought to go on, but they were not able to attend, so I gave it up. But husband and I decided to go right on and work together. He was an honorary member. I would attend the white unions. The women all seemed nice and sympathetic, and did all they could to help me. They said they were sorry, because we had sent in better reports than any other unions in the County.

        Husband and I kept up our jail work. We worked with a Mr. Blake, a member of the First Methodist Church, and the Lord abundantly blessed and saved souls. After awhile, Mr. Blake had other engagements, and the work was turned over to us. After giving in satisfactory reports to the W. C. T. U., I was elected County Superintendent of Jail and Prison Work. The Lord gave us a few white workers to go with us. We kept this work up for about four years with wonderful results. The Lord helped us to get the favor of the jailers and sheriffs. We held Sunday afternoon meetings. The prisoners would always take hold and sing with us. There were many boys and young men among them. Not all that you find in jail are "down-and-outs," as one might suppose. Some had committed the first crime, and some were hardened criminals. We met all classes there. In the south end of one of the tanks there was a bath tub which we used as an altar. After service we would ask the men who wanted to lead a new life to

step forward. We invited them to kneel at the bath tub, and there many souls were converted.

        There was a young man by the name of Howard Holmes, who was in for murder. There was a desperado in at the same time by the name of Blank. One night Blank made a wooden pistol, held up the jailer, took his keys, unlocked the door and let almost every prisoner out. Holmes was a colored boy and he came out with the others. It was a rare case in those days to see a colored prisoner. Most of the work was exclusively among the white people.

        It was very rainy weather and the colored boy caught a bad cold. When he was finally captured, he was sick and they placed him in the hospital. They kindly let me visit him at any time, as they knew he wou