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 6
 
 First Edition 
 
 THE PENALTY AND 
 REDEMPTION 
 
 By 
 
 GEORGE MILES WHITE 
 Author of 
 
 "FROM BONIFACE TO BANK 
 BURGLAR" 
 
 In "The Penalty and Redemption" is Related the 
 
 Remarkable Story of the Conversion from Sin of 
 
 the Author Through the McAuley Water 
 
 Street Mission, Who Was Known in 
 
 the World of Criminals as George 
 
 Miles, alias Bliss, alias 
 
 Williams, Etc. 
 
 George Miles White Projected the Great Ocean 
 Bank Robbery from Which He and His Confed- 
 erate Mark Shinbnrn Obtained Nearly Two 
 and a Half Millions of Dollars. 
 
 THE SEABOARD PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK, N. Y. 
 
 1907
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Copyright, 1907 
 By the Seaboard Publishing Company. 
 
 
 Printed by 
 
 The Seaboard Press, 
 
 New York City, N. Y., 
 
 U. S. A.
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter. 
 
 I Breaking From Bondage 
 
 II In Durance Vile 
 
 III The Passing of Tom Baker 
 
 IV Triumph Over Disappointment. 
 V In the Light Patch. 
 
 VI On to the Port of Dispair. 
 
 VII The Grafting Chaplain. 
 
 VIII Peter James and Others. 
 
 IX Always to Me the "Little Mother 
 
 X God's Light Athwart the Gloom 
 
 XI Skelly Just Plain Skelly. 
 
 XII The Banker and the Ex-Burglar. 
 
 XIII Shadows and Sunshine. 
 
 XIV The Penalty.
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS DIRECTORY 
 
 George Miles White . . Frontispiece 
 
 Samuel Hopkins Hadley .... 8 
 
 Sing Sing Prison, Ossining, N. Y. . . 18 
 
 Bread Line at the McAuley Mission on a 
 Christmas Day 44 
 
 The Chair and the Sofa in the Mission 
 Room where Mr. White had the Memor- 
 able Meeting with S. H. Hadley Supt. 
 Wyburn observed Talking to the Author 64 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wyburn, co-laborers in the 
 Work of Redeeming the Lost . . 72 
 
 Mrs. Maud Ballington Booth, the "Little 
 Mother" 102 
 
 John H. Wyburn, Superintendent of the 
 McAuley Mission 142 
 
 The Meeting Room where Mr. Rafter was 
 Converted He is seen sitting at the left 
 of Supt. Wyburn, who stands behind the 
 desk 154 
 
 A Christmas Scene in the McAuley Mission 158 
 
 Facsimile of the Pardon granted to Mr. White 
 by Theodore Roosevelt, as Governor of 
 New York State 165 
 
 Joseph J. Rafter, the Redeemed Printer
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 Remarkable indeed is the story of the conver- 
 sion to God of George Miles White as related by 
 him in this volume. It is perhaps the most inter- 
 esting turning to God of the latter-day great sin- 
 ners, and an all-powerful and convincing example 
 of what the Divine One is willing to do for a 
 truly repentant man. Mr. White is an eleventh 
 hour convert whose daily life is never so en- 
 grossed with temporal things that he forgets how 
 narrow was his escape from everlasting con- 
 demnation. And with him every conscious hour 
 is the settled conviction that he is paying the 
 penalty of his hitherto lawlessness, in the knowl- 
 edge of his ability to devote only a fragment 
 of a misspent life to the service of God for his 
 boundless mercy. 
 
 In the matter of worldly possessions he is 
 absolutely poor, yet he feels rich in the full real- 
 ization that God has forgiven him. He is able 
 to know this regardless of the fact that a great 
 fortune, accrued as a burglar, has been swept 
 away like dust in the teeth of a gale. And the 
 deprivation of that fortune he does not accept as 
 a punishment. He is glad that the fruit of his 
 wickedness has gone from him forever. Wealth
 
 \ 
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 of such origin would only create horror in his 
 soul now. Rather he would be a doorkeeper in 
 the Jerry McAuley Water Street Mission, whence 
 the first seed of Christianity were sowed in his 
 heart through the instrumentality of the late Sam- 
 uel H. Hadley. From this godly man's lips came 
 the words, "Remember, man, remember my 
 brother, that some day you'll have to stand face 
 to face with Jesus Christ!" This warning came 
 to Mr. White while he was in the Cell of a Police 
 Station many months later, but with such power 
 as to strike terror to his soul. 
 
 The Author has not spared himself in the chap- 
 ters following. He wants the world to know 
 how wicked he was that it may the more truly 
 realize how vast is the love of God and how long- 
 suffering He is. 
 
 HARRY ARISTIDES DAYTON.
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 BREAKING 
 
 FROM 
 BONDAGE
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BREAKING FROM BONDAGE. 
 
 Life's December was upon me sowing to the 
 winci, I had harvested the whirlwind ! 
 
 Pandering to crime, it had me firmly in its octo- 
 pus grasp! Struggling, gigantically, to free 
 myself from it, I had become bruised and lacer- 
 ated, as it were, yet, withal, horribly enthralled! 
 
 My conscience, never entirely destroyed, but 
 benumbed, vague, cried out as it did when I 
 made the first fatal step down to the broad, 
 alluring road of crime! 
 
 Was the awful gloom but a signpost of ap- 
 proach to that inevitable world of terror through 
 which a criminal, ripe with time, must pass in 
 his progress, his final steppings to the grave? 
 Oh, God! how cold were the walls of my place 
 of bondage on that night, yet, they were not 
 colder than my trembling hands ! And my brow, 
 too it was beaded with a sweat like that of 
 death. My dulled brain was a mere toy of 
 unrest. My heart throbs were sluggish, and my 
 heart, sore with an unknown, mysterious force, 
 seemed to be wedged as in a relentless vise, which 
 was as cruel as the rough-hewn bench-bed, upon 
 which my old bones ground painfully ! 
 
 Sleep, which I cherished by day and looked 
 for to soothe me at night, as a respite from the
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 haunting fears that tormented me, was still more 
 distant when twilight came only to fade into the 
 fulness of night. And, had sleep mercifully vis- 
 ited me, of what avail would it have been? If, 
 perchance, I could have slept, dreams would 
 have come to remind me, in greater measure, 
 of the enormity of my myriad crimes. These 
 would have moved in ghastly parade, in pano- 
 ramic view through my brain, and voices, 
 accusing and just, would have cried insistently, 
 that "retribution" had come. In no manner, 
 seemingly, could I discover the peace that should 
 be the certain heritage of old age. 
 
 There was I, destitute, friendless, accused and 
 accursed! And, bending under the weight of 
 crushing years, my wealth was gone like the dis- 
 sipated sunshine of my youth. Speeding to the 
 grave, on to the sublime unknown, there was 
 none to succor me, and none to offer hope or 
 cheer. 
 
 Accused, I was guilty, and must, alas! face 
 the consequences. The curtain, whose dropping 
 on my life was imminent, found me pursued by 
 a merciless law that sought its victims among 
 the poor, and being poor, I must pay the price! 
 Recorded as an outlaw, an enemy of the com- 
 monwealth, yet I was scourged with a conscience 
 that would not altogether down. It was like the 
 raw, bleeding flesh, being seared by the white- 
 heated iron fresh from the blacksmith's fire. 
 
 I could not sleep though my brain was sorely
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 fagged, and my body woefully sapped of strength. 
 I groaned because the dim light in the white- 
 washed corridor, just outside my Cell, was not 
 extinguished, so, mayhap, I could court sleep. 
 It's fitfulness, with each stirring breeze, was but 
 a background of half yellow, against which 
 strange, and yet not strange, shadows curled and 
 twisted into weird but shapely creatures, that, 
 vanishing, reappeared, misshapen, like unto repul- 
 sive, creeping things! These shadows tortured 
 me! They ground my soul, spelled all sorts of 
 fears, painted in a masterly hand living pictures 
 which filled me with a nameless horror! And 
 again they conjured up forms, which, speaking, 
 called me back to other days and things I would 
 have forever forgotten. 
 
 Oh, for the coming of another day! Better it 
 and whatever would befall me, than the torments 
 of the night. Better to face the inevitable, the 
 legally paved and certain route to the State 
 Prison Cell for which I was destined. Anything 
 to escape, even momentarily, from the realized 
 hell of a present, that was fraught with a yet 
 living conscience, that would not die quickly, but 
 burned and burned, until I was bordering on a 
 state of madness. 
 
 I felt a sensation, which, I apprehend, must 
 be sensed by the living human brain imprisoned 
 in the paralyzed clay of the body. A numbness 
 had me within its dreaded grasp, and I wondered 
 if it were the herald of death's foreclosure of its
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 certain claim upon my poor body ! I was stricken 
 with an indescribable terror. I cried for God 
 to spare me ! 
 
 "See!" I pleaded, "see! I am on my knees 
 before Thee ! Beside this Prison bed I ami pouring 
 out my agony ! Have mercy on me, oh, my God, if 
 Thou canst! The great wall of crime which I 
 have, in the long years, builded between Thee, all 
 that is good pure and holy and me, is closing 
 down upon me. My eyes seem to be sightless 
 I am in utter darkness! Hope is swallowed by 
 despair, self-confidence transformed into abject 
 fear, scoffing turned into the full knowledge that 
 Thou, God, commandest the earth, and that the 
 wages of sin must be paid " 
 
 A voice, thick with a night's debauch, then 
 half-shrill and expressive of rage, shocked me 
 the voice of a woman whose Cell joined mine 
 next but one. 
 
 She had blasphemed the name of the Lord 
 Jesus in a manner to interrupt my agony of fear, 
 and send a thrill of horror through me. Why 
 this should affect me, to whom oaths had long 
 been a familiar practice, I could not tell! I felt 
 a keen sense of pain, and could have cried aloud, 
 so poignant was my mental distress. Even in 
 the unusual experience of the moment, I mar- 
 velled at it. 
 
 "Woman, beware!" I was on the point of 
 saying, when her blatant tongue sent forth fur-
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ther sentences, each one prefaced with the 
 Saviour's name. It was horrible! 
 
 " Say, you thievin' coppers want two-thirds of 
 every dollar we women earns ! " I heard her say 
 between drunken sobs. " Why can't y'u be satis- 
 fied with th' bit that 'u'd be square an' right? 
 Y'u ought t' be 'shamed t' take blood-money of 
 women an' with a home an' a wife an' young " 
 
 Her voice was here choked off, and I heard 
 sounds of a struggle on the cement floor. Then 
 a man's voice, low, tense and filled with sup- 
 pressed rage, reached me. 
 
 " Shut yer infernal wobbly jaw, Diamond Nell, 
 or I'll swat ye another hard one for company ! " 
 came from his coarse lips, which must have been 
 quivering with brutish anger. Then once more 
 I heard her: 
 
 " Swat an' be , an' I still say y'u dirty thiev- 
 in' cops want, take an' keep more 'an y'ur bit ! " 
 
 It seemed as if she had half wrenched her 
 throat from his grasp, for her tones were yet 
 guttural, and all but inaudible to me. There was 
 another sound as of a blow on the face, and I 
 knew by it that he had again lifted his cruel hands 
 against her. I would have protested, but how 
 powerless I was. I wondered why someone of 
 the officers in the nearby waiting-room did not 
 come in and put an end to this brutality. Or, 
 was it a scene of nightly occurrence, a part of the 
 midnight act in a Metropolitan Police Station- 
 house? These telegraphic thoughts crowded on
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 me, only to be interrupted again by the woman's 
 voice. She screamed until the corridor echoed. 
 
 " Don't y'u strike me again, Jim ! Jim oh oh 
 oh! y'u brute!" cried the miserable creature. 
 Lifting her tones yet higher and shriller, she 
 mingled the Saviour's name with the vilest of 
 words, until every fiber in me revolted at the 
 sacrilege. Then she went on : 
 
 " Remember, Jim ! remember ! y'u devil y'u 
 an' me '11 be face t' face with th' judge in th' 
 mornin', an' then, mark me, y'u'll repent this 
 night's work, by " 
 
 Her words died away suddenly, and it was 
 not necessary for me to be on the scene to know 
 that the policeman's hand had closed on her throat 
 again, and rendered her speechless. 
 
 His voice penetrated my Cell once more, and 
 I gathered from his words, and her violent weep- 
 ing, that he had broken the spirit which had 
 been rendered unusually defiant by reason of her 
 drunken condition. Presently I heard him close 
 her Cell door and go his way. 
 
 May I never again be a witness to another 
 such awful enactment. It was terrible and the 
 effect upon me was electrical. The blasphemy 
 which fell from this fallen creature's lips had 
 aroused memories which, for months, had been 
 in abeyance. The name of the Lord Jesus Christ 
 on her polluted lips, struck a chord that rent my 
 soul, quickened my sluggish heart, and pricked 
 my benumbed sensibilities. Her moans and
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 sobs over the loss of blood-money, the price 
 of her shame, stirred me equally as did the 
 cupidity in the unspeakable policeman for the 
 money, aroused my sense of the horrible! But 
 neither of these moved me like her profanation of 
 the name of Jesus, supplemented by the threat 
 that there would be a penalty awaiting her tor- 
 mentor when they were face to face with the 
 judge in the morning! 
 
 "Remember, Jim, remember, y'u devil y'u an' 
 me '11 be face t' face with th' judge in th' mornin', 
 an', then, mark me, y'u '11 repent this night's 
 work, by " 
 
 Like a flash I was carried back to the last 
 time I was incarcerated in Sing Sing Prison at 
 Ossining, N. Y. I saw there the kindly face of 
 a man whose words impressed me as I had never 
 been before the face of Samuel Hopkins 
 Hadley! 
 
 This was on the platform in the chapel some 
 time during the summer of 1898. That he was 
 a man of God I did not' then doubt, little as I 
 cared about it. I did feel that the man, his 
 words, and his works bespoke a practical reli- 
 gion. His God, he said, was the Convict's God, 
 and he held out hope in the temporal, as well 
 as the spiritual life. He declared that this hope 
 was firmly anchored in the free, simple religion 
 of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 Mr. Hadley made frequent and welcome visits 
 to Sing Sing, and that they were errands of
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 mercy, I have never doubted. At a meeting in the 
 chapel, about two months before my discharge, 
 my interest was unusually excited. And, really, 
 1 could not help it his influence on this occa- 
 sion being so powerful that I felt a compulsion 
 to know him better. After the meeting he greeted 
 me royally, and I was not sorry for having gone 
 to him. And, besides, he told me more about this 
 simple religion, in which he claimed to be an 
 earnest, though not infallible worker. 
 
 "When you leave Prison, come to the Jerry 
 McAuley Mission and see me," he said at the 
 termination of the interview, meanwhile shaking 
 my hand heartily. There was something in the 
 clear, piercing eyes of this man of God, which told 
 plainly of the goodness of his soul. And he 
 had not always been thus! Once he was a 
 miserable drunkard without hope of reforma- 
 tion an outcast of society! 
 
 Perhaps this knowledge attracted me to him 
 more than anything else. I, too, was a slave 
 to an appetite for strong drink, a no small factor 
 in shaping the crooked paths of my life. I re- 
 called too, of wondering how it was possible, in 
 any way, for Samuel H. Hadley, or any other 
 man, to inspire religious interest in me, the great- 
 est of sinners and drunkards, whose reformation 
 was reckoned among the impossibilities. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hadley," I had promised him, "I'll 
 call at the Mission, and let me thank you for the 
 
 8
 
 Samuel Hopkins Hadley
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 interest you are taking in me. Where is the 
 Mission ?" 
 
 "At No. 316 Water Street, New York," he 
 said. 
 
 But the seed he sowed for me then, fell on soil 
 that was none too fertile, for years in crime had 
 rendered me hardened against religious impres- 
 sions. I had always, from my youth up, per- 
 sistently resisted the mellowing influences of 
 Christianizing effort. Indeed, the tares had 
 waxed luxuriant, nurtured by the criminal ten- 
 dencies to which I catered in the process of ac- 
 cumulating wealth. Little wonder, therefore, 
 that the stout growth of these tares left scant 
 sustenance for the nourishment of good seed. 
 
 But I did not forget Mr. Hadley's invitation, 
 and, one day in the summer of 1899, found me 
 inquiring for him at the Jerry McAuley Mission. 
 It was not necessary to make known my identity, 
 for he recognized me at once. 
 
 "You are George White !" he said, with a sim- 
 plicity, frankness, and cordiality, that immedi- 
 ately warmed into my best nature. Then he gave 
 me the free hand of real, true fellowship. 
 
 I have a faithful, mental picture of that meet- 
 ing, which I never want to forget. The same 
 couch upon which he bade me sit, and the chair 
 in which he sat facing me, are in the Mission to 
 this day ! I can see him now, sitting in his chair, 
 and hear his deep-toned voice utter language as 
 elementary as it was forceful.
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 "Are you a true Christian?" he bluntly asked 
 me, and I caught my breath with the suddenness 
 of it. 
 
 "Yes," was my hesitating reply, but I knew I 
 lied. Why I made this false answer is a mystery 
 yet unsolved, unless it was in my mind to claim 
 a religion that was of the head and not of the 
 heart, as I have heard it described. Perhaps, 
 too, I arrogated to myself the right to thus reply, 
 founding it on the fact that I was a member of 
 a prominent church in New York City. As for 
 being a true disciple of Christ, one of the heart 
 and not of the head alone, that I knew I was not. 
 There was deception in me therefore, when I told 
 him I was a true Christian. To say that I was 
 abashed but faintly portrays my feelings. 
 
 Mr. Hadley being a plain man, gave me a 
 sharp talk, in steel-like words. He did not mince 
 them in expressing his opinion of non-Christians, 
 alcoholic drink, and drunkards. He said that 
 self-respect, aside from the duty a man owed 
 his Maker, demanded the rennunciation of sin, 
 and all intoxicating beverages. A drunkard, like 
 a sinner, he declared, was offensive to God, and 
 could not enter the Kingdom of Heaven. 
 
 But it was Mr. Hadley's concluding sentence 
 which fixed my attention. It pierced my soul in 
 a startling way, and was the means of giving me 
 the first real conception of the divine warning, 
 "Prepare to meet thy God!" 
 
 "Remember, man!" said he, "remember, my 
 
 10
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 brother, that some day you'll have to stand face 
 to face with the Lord Jesus Christ !" 
 
 And soon after my sinful heart had been 
 charged with this awful injunction, I left Mr. 
 Hadley and the Mission. Shall I say it was with 
 a determination to be a better man? I think so, 
 but, as I have said, crime had hardened me, and 
 soon his warning was a forgotten sound. 
 
 But wondrous and mysterious are the ways of 
 God! 
 
 The words of this good man of the Mission 
 glowed in my soul that night, as I listened to the 
 weeping of the abandoned woman drunkard in 
 the nearby Cell. I saw them as though they were 
 scrawled on the walls of my Cell in living letters 
 of electrical brilliance. 
 
 And then and there with the knowledge which 
 conies but once in a lifetime, I sensed the pres- 
 ence of the hour, in which I must make the final 
 choice. I had reached the dividing line, the ulti- 
 matum between sin and righteousness. I felt that 
 I was to renounce sin forthwith or be damned, 
 and forever shut away from the face of God. 
 
 I had ridden rough-shod in defiance of my 
 Maker, until He had brought me up short to the 
 crossing. I must decide whether I would go on 
 on to destruction, on to everlasting damnation, 
 or on to eternal life, where sin is not, and peace 
 reigns tranquil as the depths of the vast ocean. 
 
 At first I did not fathom the reason for my 
 being brought face to face with the inevitable 
 
 11
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 so suddenly. Then it came with the strength 
 of an avalanche, and with the rapidity of thought. 
 God had employed the lips of an unclean woman 
 to point me out the way of salvation ! 
 
 " Remember, Jim !" she said, "remember, y'u 
 devil y'u an' me '11 be face t' face with th' judge 
 in th' mornin' !" , 
 
 Like the explosion of a bomb would rend 
 things, these words from a miserable woman of 
 the streets, cried to a wretched brute of a police- 
 man, opened up in my memory Mr. Hadley's 
 warning. Had such an agency ever before been 
 used to awaken an immortal soul to its impending 
 danger I could not say I only knew that from 
 the woman's evil, thoughtless tongue had been 
 projected the unerring lance of truth. It pierced 
 my hard heart, and turned me from the unpar- 
 donable sin. 
 
 "Oh God, merciful One!" I pleaded, in abject 
 humility, "at last I am indeed face to face with 
 Thee, and Thy blessed Son the world's Saviour. 
 And now, oh, hear my broken prayer ! Oh ! God, 
 as Thou didst in the eleventh hour save the thief 
 on the cross, so wilt Thou also save me in the 
 name of Jesus, Whose precious blood was shed 
 for the sake of the vilest of sinners, of which I am 
 one! 
 
 "Through Thy servant', Mr. Hadley, Thou 
 didst once offer me salvation, but I spurned it 
 and Thee, and Thy blood sacrifice! And now, 
 wonderfully, and no less mercifully, Thou hast 
 
 12
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 spoken to me again, this time through the lips of 
 the unclean, and my soul hath hearkened! Oh 
 God, I am such a miserable sinner before Thee! 
 Hear me, I beseech Thee! Create within me a 
 new, a clean heart wash away my manifold sins, 
 and make out of me what Thou canst! 
 
 "In youth, when my sisters and brothers gave 
 themselves to Thee, I scorned Thy love, and bade 
 Thee depart from iiie forever. It appeared to me 
 then, that I had well-nigh committed the unpar- 
 donable sin, for my understanding of Thy law 
 was clear. Full pardon was offered me, but I 
 rejected it as haughtily as it was freely extended. 
 Now I have come with a lifetime of sin. 
 
 "Even this moment I am before Thee, with a 
 fresh stain on my soul, and for which I must yet 
 pay the penalty on earth, in accordance with the 
 law of man. And, oh God, I ask mercy and 
 pardon of Thee not for the body, but for the 
 soul ! With only a fragment remaining of an ill- 
 spent life, I still ask for mercy, and wilt Thou 
 give it to me? 
 
 "As I kneel before Thee, the enormity and 
 quality of my sins appall me. For years and 
 years, Prison walls and bars, held no terror for 
 me. Outlawed by man, I found delight and 
 pride in outwitting man, when, in doing it, I 
 garnered gold. Steeped in the blackness of sin, I 
 have, hitherto, forgotten Thee, nor have I cared. 
 
 "But to-night I am face to face with Thee. 
 The teachings of my youth are coming down 
 
 13
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 over the sins of years, only to awaken the 
 memory of the prayers of my dear mother, my 
 noble father, and later, those of my beloved wife ! 
 They, all, everyone, were Thy servants, who, 
 hearing Thy call, answered gladly, and were 
 gathered to Thy merciful bosom! 
 
 "Oh Jesus, Thou who didst die on the cross 
 for the sake of the child of reason and the aged 
 man in sin, is there yet time in which I may be 
 saved? Has the glad hour which saw the salva- 
 tion that Thou didst assure to the dying thief on 
 the cross, passed for me? As the thief on the 
 cross pleaded with Thee for the salvation of his 
 guilty soul, so do I, as great a thief as he, now 
 plead with Thee to cleanse away my sins, and 
 make me free in the possession of Thy love and 
 forgiveness ! 
 
 "I remember from my childhood days, some- 
 what of Thy messages in the Holy Writ. Thou 
 didst say to all mankind, 'Ask and ye shall re- 
 ceive; seek and ye shall find.' I am asking to- 
 night, oh blessed Jesus, and, being repentant for 
 my misdeeds, shall I find Thee? Hearken, oh! 
 Jesus, to the prayers of my mother, my father, 
 my wife, which, I feel, are coming up before 
 Thee, as my prayer even now is being lifted to 
 Thee. I am truly, sincerely repentant. Let the 
 prayers and the tears of my beloved ones, shed 
 on earth, and their prayers now before Thy 
 throne, mediate for me! Let these tears that 
 dim my fading eyes, and wet my time-lined 
 
 14
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 cheeks, and which melt my soul, laying it bare 
 before Thee, plead for me and wash my sins 
 away, even as Thy precious blood was shed that 
 all sinners might forsake their sins and accept 
 the glories of Thy salvation! 
 
 "My tears will not cease to flow. But the Cell 
 does not seem so dark, and there has come over 
 me a new consciousness, a feeling of trust and 
 blissful rest. I know not what it is, oh God, 
 unless it be that Thou hast searched my heart, 
 and, finding me broken and contrite, hast for- 
 given me. There is indeed, a peace settling upon 
 me, the like of which I have never known. The 
 arrogance that has ruled in all my life is gone. 
 See! I am humble, pleading! Teach me Thy 
 way, for I am ready, and will follow Thee, will- 
 ingly! And, command me! oh merciful God! 
 If Thou wilt put the heaviest cross upon me, I 
 will go before the whole world, and confess my 
 open and secret sins, that all may know of my 
 repentance, and learn of Thy power to save me, 
 the worst of sinners! Oh, God in Heaven, I 
 thank Thee for salvation!" 
 
 "Come, wake up there, you old crook! Hoist 
 yourself quicker ! What on your knees ? Well, 
 
 I'll be ! Drunk, are you? Or, maybe 
 
 you 're praying! Come, up with you!" 
 
 I heard these words indistinctly. Then a 
 resounding blow, from a heavy hand, brought me 
 to consciousness. My eyes opened to daylight. 
 Straightway I remembered all, and a rush of 
 
 15
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 joy flooded me. What a blessed, good world I 
 seemed to be in ! Yes, God had not only forgiven 
 me, but He had, also, mercifully given me sleep. 
 The full realization of the change in my life filled 
 my soul. So this was the peace that "passeth all 
 understanding," of which I had heard. It had 
 come to me, too, in the Cell of a Police Station 
 in the Twenty-second Precinct of New York 
 City, the scene of the boldest and most desperate 
 misdeed of my criminal experience. 
 
 I arose from my kneeling posture beside the 
 crude bench which had answered for a bed, as 
 quickly as my stiffened old joints would permit me. 
 
 "I've been saved!" I said, to the doorman, 
 smilingly, for he had entered the Cell, and, find- 
 ing me kneeling, had awakened me. 
 
 "Huh!" he grunted. 
 
 "You won't mind if I pray, will you ?" I asked ; 
 "you found me asleep !" 
 
 "I'll have to stay here while you do it!" He 
 said this rather gruffly. I thought he suspected I 
 was unbalanced, and might do myself harm. 
 However, he raised no objection. 
 
 I dropped to my knees again, and asked God to 
 strengthen me for the ordeal in the Police Court 
 through which I must go in a few minutes, and 
 that I be empowered to withstand any temptation, 
 small or great, which might beset me. 
 
 The doorman watched me curiously as I an- 
 nounced myself ready to proceed with him to 
 the corridor. There the patrolman who arrested 
 
 16
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 me the night before took me in charge, and 
 thence I proceeded to the patrol-wagon, standing 
 in front of the Police Station door, the officer 
 first making sure I was securely handcuffed to 
 him. Knowing my reputation, he declined to 
 run the risk of losing me. And I I was re- 
 signed. 
 
 "Want a lawyer when you get to court?" he 
 asked as we drew near the patrol-wagon. 
 
 "No," I said, and thanked him. 
 
 "Better !" he urged dryly. "A crook with your 
 record will get about all the law provides for a 
 second or third offender. You're charged with 
 attempted grand larceny, and don't you take your 
 arrest as a good, fat joke! Yours is a mighty 
 lean chance!" 
 
 "Hardly a joke!" I told him. "I'm surely 
 guilty, and I'm going to plead that way!" The 
 policeman looked at me doubtfully. 
 
 "You 're a fool, a fool !" he repeated, with 
 
 an expletive. "A few dollars would help you a lot!" 
 
 No one knew the efficacy of dollars better than 
 I, but being determined to pay the price of my 
 last crime, I made no answer. 
 
 We climbed into the patrol-wagon. There had 
 preceded us, the patrolman, Jim, and his victim, 
 the unfortunate woman Diamond Nell, a most 
 wretched appearing, pitiful thing. 
 
 Conflicting thoughts occupied me, as we were 
 whirled along toward the West Side Police 
 Court, several blocks further uptown. 
 
 17
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN DURANCE VILE. 
 
 A long, defiant shriek from the locomotive's 
 whistle, and, presently, the train rushed up to 
 the station, where it stopped with a series of 
 groans, and nerve-testing creaks. These latter 
 were supplemented by the hissing of the air- 
 brakes mechanism, as it reluctantly relaxed its 
 giant grasp of the throbbing wheels. 
 
 The coach doors had, meanwhile, been thrown 
 open, and the brakemen in their automatic voicing 
 cried out that we had arrived at Ossining, N. Y., 
 the home of Sing Sing Prison. 
 
 To many of the passengers the place had no 
 significance, except in the fact, perhaps, that its 
 name had been changed from Sing Sing to Os- 
 sining. How different in my case! 
 
 The great, gray-stone Prison walls and what 
 they hid from the outside world, yawned for me. 
 As hopeful and as brave as I had determined to 
 be, nevertheless, a shudder seized me. But it 
 was only for an instant, and then I was strong 
 and steadfast in purpose again. 
 
 As the train drew away from the station, it 
 left seven Convicts minus the stripes of whom 
 I was one, standing on the platform of the station. 
 The keepers who had us in charge from New 
 York, seemed willing to gratify us with a linger- 
 
 18
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ing gaze at the last coach, as it vanished in the 
 swirling clouds of dust and blue-black smoke. 
 
 Just for a moment a yearning enwrapt me as 
 a warm garment, and I wished that I was free, 
 like those other passengers now rapidly moving 
 northward, and leaving Sing Sing Prison behind. 
 But what the thoughts of my fellows were, I will 
 not venture to guess. Not one of them was 
 happy. Neither did any of them assume the air 
 of bravado, such as I have known in felons en 
 route to serve their sentences. No, we were a 
 serious seven. 
 
 Presently I was shaken into even a sterner 
 realization of my whereabouts, by our keepers' 
 command to march, march, march ! As we pro- 
 ceeded along the railroad tracks, in the direction 
 of the Prison, now and again tripping over a 
 gnarled tie, I could not avoid contrasting this 
 mode of transit with that of my trip from Sing 
 Sing depot thirty years prior. That was the occa- 
 sion of my very first conviction for a crime. 
 
 "Tall Jim/' Joe Kingsland, who was sometimes 
 known as "Howard," and I, had robbed a bank 
 at Adams, N. Y., and had been sentenced to 
 Auburn Prison in that State, for ten years each. 
 Then I was possessed of a fortune accounted as 
 great. Also I had acquired the knowledge that 
 money was all-powerful, even though it was at 
 the command of an incarcerated thief. In less 
 than five weeks after the beginning of my con- 
 finement at Auburn, I had, with its potency, 
 
 19
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 opened up an underground communication with 
 friends in New York, and had found out who, 
 among the Prison officials, were susceptible to 
 bribes. 
 
 Inspector Fordyce Laflin was in charge at Sing 
 Sing, and Inspector Solomon Sheu at Auburn at 
 that time, and both of these worthies were seek- 
 ers after money of this kind. They soon arranged 
 for my transfer to Sing Sing for $1,000. That 
 is, I paid $1,000 to Laflin, but both inspectors 
 were in the deal. This change was to be made 
 so I might be nearer my New York friends, and 
 in Sing Sing, from where I could better plan for 
 and insure my escape. 
 
 My trip from Auburn to Sing Sing was at- 
 tended with all the pomp that a millionaire usually 
 commanded in those days. I doffed the stripes, 
 had to myself a stateroom in one of the railway's 
 finest Pullman coaches, and had plenty of refresh- 
 ments at my disposal. When the train reached 
 Sing Sing, a splendid carriage and high-stepping 
 horses were at the depot, and in this style I 
 rode up to the Prison gate. The crowd which 
 usually made things interesting about the rail- 
 road station, no doubt conjectured that I was an 
 highly important official of the State. Certain it 
 is, I was not thought to be a notorious bank 
 burglar. 
 
 Therefore, it was only natural that I should 
 have compared my former entrance to Sing Sing 
 with the later one, emphasized as it was by a 
 
 20
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ride in a stuffy, stifling smoking-car, handcuffed 
 to a keeper, followed by a walk to the Prison 
 gate over railroad ties, subject to the knowing 
 gaze of curious eyes. 
 
 And now it was known that I must remain in* 
 carcerated within Prison walls until the comple- 
 tion of my term of two years and three months. 
 In the first instance I had come with the knowl- 
 edge that I was soon to be free in lieu of $40,000, 
 for Warden Russell and Inspector Laflin had 
 agreed to accept $30,000, and the remainder was 
 to be the share of minor officials of the Prison, 
 who would conveniently shut their eyes when my 
 plan of escape matured. Indeed, four days 
 after my get-away, I did meet Laflin and Rus- 
 sell in my room at the Astor House in New 
 York, and paid them their price. More, not long 
 after that, my pals, "Tall Jim" and Joe Kings- 
 land, were transferred from Auburn to Sing Sing, 
 through the grace of Inspector Sheu, to whom 
 I gave $1,000, and a five hundred dollar diamond 
 ring, as a consideration. "Tall Jim" and Kings- 
 land subsequently made their escape, all of which 
 must impress one with the fact, that the Prison 
 officials involved, were not serving the State 
 entirely for their health. 
 
 These ugly reminiscences were displaced by 
 the cold fact that our squad of seven was at the 
 Prison gate, which was emphasized by the shock 
 of withdrawing bolts, and the clank, clank of the 
 great gate-latch. In a moment the batch of seven 
 
 21
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 "fresh ones" was "tramp, tramp, tramping" 
 along the flagstone walk, and on to the dingy, 
 forbidding main hall of the Prison. 
 
 I had no need to be reminded of the lot of the 
 felon, yet there on the wall, and about the first 
 thing to meet my eyes, were the Scriptural words : 
 
 "The way of the transgressor is hard!" 
 
 Yes, there was truth for me! 
 
 But I did not shut the words from my vision, 
 nor had I any wish to, and had I desired to forget 
 the divine injunction, I doubt if I could have, 
 for the awful truth, forced upon me through the 
 blasphemous lips of the miserable woman in the 
 Station-house Cell, was emblazoned on my very 
 soul. Yes, some day I must meet Jesus Christ 
 face to face ! And as I, with the others, walked 
 toward the clerk's office, where the registration 
 books were kept, I breathed forth a silent prayer 
 for divine sustenance. 
 
 My pedigree the longest one was the last of 
 the seven to be taken. Warden Addison John- 
 son was in the office. He knew me after a fash- 
 ion, from my record, which was already told at 
 length in the Prison books. There it was, 
 "George White, alias George Bliss," and many 
 other borrowed names, each one bringing to my 
 mind an awful story of crime against God and 
 man. And there it was again, "Noted bank- 
 burglar and jail-breaker," and the like, and with- 
 out end, it seemed to me. 
 
 "This Convict White," said the warden, look- 
 
 22
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ing wisely at: State Agent James Jackson, and 
 putting considerable emphasis on the word "Con- 
 vict," "is a desperate criminal and escaper, I am 
 told." 
 
 "There is no doubt of that, warden," said 
 Jackson, eyeing me critically. "This White, or 
 Bliss, as he chooses to call himself, is a most 
 desperate character, and it's true that he made a 
 daring break from this very Prison in 1872." 
 
 "So I observe in his record !" commented War- 
 den Johnson, as he glanced at the entry in the 
 book. In a moment he looked up and gasped : 
 
 "How is this, Jackson? What do these lines 
 in red ink mean?" 
 
 The warden directed the state agent's attention 
 to several words scrawled in the book. 
 
 "They tell only what happened," exclaimed 
 Jackson. "This man did escape from here in 
 1872, and it is a fact that he was pardoned while 
 he was yet at liberty!" 
 
 "Impossible, Jackson, impossible! How could 
 a Convict be pardoned, meanwhile being an es- 
 caped Convict still at large?" exclaimed War- 
 den Johnson, incredulously. 
 
 "I have often wondered at it myself, warden. 
 Nevertheless his pardon is recorded in our books, 
 and we can't go back of that." 
 
 Warden Johnson seemed to be on the point of 
 asking me for a solution of the mystery, but 
 changing his mind, said to Jackson: 
 
 "I want you to see that he doesn't have a 
 
 23
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 chance to escape again, else he may get another, 
 similar pardon." 
 
 I thought I read within these words that my 
 life within the Prison would not be that of the 
 favored, if I did not press with gold the palms 
 of one or more of the Prison officials. 
 
 Having finished the routine in the clerk's 
 office, the warden directed that the squad be taken 
 at once to the bathing quarters. I had scarcely 
 gotten under the shower-bath, when a Convict 
 "trusty" came in and tossed a suit of stripes 
 the ugly, broad, black and white badge of infamy 
 on the floor beside me, accompanying the act 
 with a string of vile language and oaths, which 
 created within me a sensation akin to horror. 
 At the same time a keeper, with a brutal tongue, 
 ordered me to hustle in my clothing, and to recol- 
 lect that I was not in a Fifth Avenue hotel. 
 
 Not many minutes later found me in the ton- 
 sorial department of the Prison, and, presently, 
 I was out again with my moustache gone, and but 
 precious little hair showing on any part of my 
 scalp. Then I was bundled into a Cell that was, 
 in all its environment, horribly suggestive of 
 filth and vermin. Thus I was again installed in 
 Sing Sing Prison, but I vowed, through the 
 help of a merciful God, to make it the last time. 
 
 Though I was again behind the bars, I pos- 
 sessed a sensation of rest, of perfect peace, a sort 
 of newness within me, that was completely satis- 
 fying. Never had I experienced a similar state of 
 
 24
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 mind, unless it was when God spoke to me in the 
 Police Station Cell on that memorable night. 
 I held the knowledge that God had forgiven my 
 manifold sins, but the marvel was that he had 
 offered pardon to me one who was so infamous 
 among all of the world's sinful, erring creatures ! 
 
 It must be that I had taken God at His word, 
 for had He not said that if the wicked man for- 
 sakes his way and his unrighteous thoughts, 
 abundant pardon will be the reward of such 
 earnest seeker ? And, at that moment, there came 
 from the memories of long ago, these comfort- 
 ing, assuring words, from God's glorious prom- 
 ises: 
 
 "I will uphold thee with the right hand of My 
 righteousness !" 
 
 And God had upheld me ! In the Police Court 
 where I was arraigned, as a preliminary in the 
 legal procedure, I found that His sustaining 
 power was with me. And during the two nights 
 which I spent in the Police Court Prison, His 
 presence was still with me, unerringly pointing 
 out the only path I should traverse, and revealing 
 to me, beyond all doubt, that, being guilty, I 
 must pay the certain penalty. 
 
 In the Tombs, too, the jail of the county, that 
 deep grave of millions of blasted hopes, the 
 crucible of dried-up tears, that Port of Separation 
 of the Good from the Evil, I had Him yet with 
 me, the same, sure, Great Arm, upon which to 
 lean; the same assuring Divine Voice heard by 
 
 25
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 faith, to support and encourage me on. When 
 brought before the Court of General Sessions, 
 and the learned head of the court. Judge Martin 
 T. McMahon, asked me, in solicitous tones, why 
 sentence should not be imposed upon me, there 
 was nothing to do but submit to the inevitable, 
 for I was guilty, and, being guilty, why should I 
 not pay the penalty? Realizing this, I was will- 
 ing to pay the debt in full, so long as He was 
 my Guide and my Staff. I determined that I 
 would not falter in the way, while I had Him 
 with me, and had His answers to prayer, as a 
 bulwark of defense. 
 
 My sleep last night was comparatively restful, 
 though the environment of the Cell was of such 
 a character as to bring into revolt my love of 
 cleanliness. The bed was hard, the clothing 
 filthy, and there was a decided dampness in 
 everything, not to speak of the never-to-be-for- 
 gotten, all-pervading Prison atmosphere. 
 
 Thrice in the night I was disturbed by the 
 snooping presence of a rat, which persisted in 
 being my bed-fellow. I was first awakened by a 
 warm weight, nestling heavily at my throat, 
 which seemed, in my semi-consciousness, to be 
 almost suffocating me. Only when I had flung 
 the thing against the Cell-wall, was I made 
 acquainted with the identity of this nocturnal 
 caller. Then it ran squealing away as I 
 thought. 
 
 On two other occasions that night, the impu- 
 
 26
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 dent, aggressive rodent called upon me, repeating 
 precisely the program of the first visit. The last 
 time it must have been so badly received, as to 
 come to the conclusion that it was not a welcome 
 adjunct to my quarters. But, as I have said, 
 aside from the really momentary sensation of 
 the "creeps" occasioned by this rodent, I passed 
 a night tranquillity. 
 
 My surroundings, however, were different from 
 those experienced in other Prisons where I 
 served sentences. In former days I had money 
 in plenty, and that bought me all the comforts I 
 wished for. Now, however, a change in my 
 circumstances had come. All my possessions of 
 the kind earthy, had vanished. I was poor and 
 despised despised on the outside of the Prison 
 walls, because of my crimes, despised and bru- 
 talized inside of the bars, because I was penniless, 
 and therefore impotent to buy salable privileges, 
 which could be enjoyed only in violation of the 
 law and rules of the Prison. 
 
 My surroundings but emphasized and im- 
 pressed upon me more forcibly the Divine dec- 
 laration I had read on the wall in the main hall, 
 that "The way of the transgressor is hard!" I 
 had transgressed the laws, and, therefore, what 
 else must I expect other than to pay the price 
 that a transgressor should pay? 
 
 One thing I missed from my Cell was a Bible. 
 I saw Chaplain George Sanderson in his office, 
 and he gave me one of large print, so complete 
 
 27
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 explanatorily, that a child would understand its 
 teachings. How grateful I was to him for this 
 boon! I must tell how deeply impressed I was 
 with his sincerity. Truly this Chaplain seemed 
 to be a Christian, a godly man, and in every way 
 worthy of his reputation. That my observa- 
 tions anent him may not appear too peculiar, it 
 should be explained that I had come in contact 
 with Chaplains not a little during my wide expe- 
 rience as a Convict. Of these I speak truthfully, 
 when I say that Chaplain Sanderson was the 
 first one to impress me as being really sincere in 
 the profession of Christianity. His religion, the- 
 oretically, seemed to be sound, and his religion, 
 as practiced, contained a fervency, simplicity, 
 and beneficence, that quite won me. He showed 
 himself to be a man of God to whom I could 
 appeal for counsel could appeal though I was 
 inexperienced in the Christian pathway. I felt 
 God had raised up for me this good man, that 
 my efforts to be a Christian might be crowned 
 with success, that my salvation might be assured. 
 His immediate interest in my temporal and spir- 
 itual well-being, gave me great hope, and an 
 abiding faith in him. 
 
 The atmosphere of Chaplain Sanderson's 1 
 office was devoid of graft indications, which so 
 pervaded those of other Chaplains in Prisons 
 where I had been. When I was serving my first 
 sentence in Sing Sing, Chaplain Schoonmaker's 
 office was notoriously corrupt. Very little atten- 
 
 28
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 tion, if any, was paid to the saving of Convicts' 
 souls, for soul-saving was thoroughly subsidiary 
 to a grasping after gold to be had through 
 political connivance. 
 
 The Chaplain studied his political manual far 
 more industriously than he dwelt upon the teach- 
 ings of the Bible. The revelation of the next 
 election of a governor was of far greater import 
 to him, than the Revelation of St. John, or the 
 beauties of the writings of Matthew, Mark, or 
 Luke. 
 
 I well remember those old days! A Convict 
 desiring religious instruction, or anything apper- 
 taining to his Christian welfare, had to seek it 
 for himself. The good shepherd of the flock 
 never went up on the mountains of sin, or rather, 
 in the by-ways of the Prison, in search of lost 
 sheep. The lost sheep, indeed, had to scurry to 
 find the shepherd, and, upon finding him, had to 
 pay well for his acceptance in the fold, and for 
 the Christian counsel he obtained. Inasmuch as 
 there were mighty few Convicts who confessed to 
 be lost sheep in quest of a good shepherd, Chap- 
 lain Schoonmaker was not unduly harassed by a 
 preponderance of Christian effort, to the embar- 
 rassment of his evidently more preferred work of 
 preserving his tenure of office, and the accumu- 
 lation of filthy lucre thereby. 
 
 But, how vastly different was Chaplain San- 
 derson ! His greatest desire, next to the salvation 
 of his soul, was to be instrumental in pointing 
 
 29
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 out God and His love, to the lowliest Convict in 
 the prison horde. And, he did not tarry for the 
 lowly ones to come to him. Day by day he 
 labored among them, and sought out whom he 
 might help to save from sin, and earnestly pleaded 
 with the most hardened among them all. 
 
 From the moment the gate of Sing Sing closed 
 me in, my prayers were earnest and my efforts 
 unceasing, that I might be able to carry the cross 
 of the Christian, faithfully, and uncomplainingly, 
 but, at times, it was almost greater than I could 
 bear. 
 
 Mindful of the Scriptural injunction, that I 
 must not hide my light under the bushel, and 
 zealous to fulfil my promise to God that all men 
 should know me as an example of His wonderful, 
 saving power, I trimmed my lamp, and kept it 
 burning as brightly as I was able to, though I 
 fear it did but feebly light the way for my fellow 
 wayfarers. But at least I endeavored to do my 
 best, though it was haltingly. 
 
 No one could have started out with a more 
 steadfast purpose than I. And how hard is the 
 course of the transgressor who has forsaken his 
 unrighteousness, I learned as the days went by. 
 My record, known to every inmate from one end 
 of the Prison to the other, sadly handicapped me. 
 Advanced in years, somewhat feeble of body, I 
 was accused of turning to God because I could no 
 longer gain a livelihood by means of the cunning 
 I once notoriously possessed. Attempts were 
 
 30
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 very often made to discredit my motives. Ridi- 
 cule was my daily sup, and contempt at the hands 
 of calloused thieves, was the reward of effort to 
 hold up the Word of God as a light to be fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 By day and by night, the word "hypocrite" 
 was whispered in my ear. If I did not hear it 
 while at my daylight tasks, which were not made 
 easy by the keeper because of my age, then I 
 heard it hissed through the grated door in my 
 Cell, in the early night, by a "trusty" Convict, 
 who chanced to pass by. No one believed me, 
 so it seemed, except good Chaplain Sanderson. 
 He had faith in me, and by word and look did 
 what he could to smooth my tempestuous way. 
 
 In all the trials of the first few days of my 
 sojourn in Sing Sing, I failed not to pray. 
 Spiritual strength was asked for from the Divine 
 Source, and though I prayed I knew but little 
 how to. It was just an opening of the heart in 
 which there was absolutely nothing to be con- 
 cealed. At morn, noon, and night, I prayed 
 with the simplicity of the child, for I was indeed 
 an infant, a weakling, toddling along in the life 
 hitherto to me, unexplored! No supplication so 
 completely comforted me as the simple words I 
 was taught to utter at the knee of my mother : 
 
 Now I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep. 
 
 If I should die before I wake, 
 I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take. 
 
 31
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 And, frequently, I breathed to God a part of 
 that universal prayer: 
 
 "Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed 
 be Thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will 
 be done in earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this 
 day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, 
 as we forgive those who trespass against us !" 
 
 In a weak moment, while kneeling at my bed- 
 side one night, I attempted to pray as I had at 
 my conversion in the Police Station Cell, but 
 my thoughts were as lead, and my tongue seemed 
 to be dumb. Then, I realized that a quickened 
 soul, struggling back from the brink of over- 
 shadowing perdition, would only be accorded the 
 power to pray like that. God at that time 
 searched into the innermost recesses of my heart, 
 and, finding that I had cast my all, fully and 
 freely, on the altar of His tender mercy and 
 boundless compassion, created in me a sudden 
 and full knowledge of the awfulness of my 
 lost condition, which must have lifted high the 
 flood-gates of my soul, that I might pour out 
 its agonizing plea for salvation. 
 
 It seemed to me that God, in His all-wise plan 
 of my salvation from a wasted life of sin, no 
 longer required the anguish of soul I suffered 
 that night. Indeed, knowing my physical frail- 
 ties, I doubt whether my poor, abused body would 
 have been able to withstand another mental strug- 
 gle like it. And not again did I thus venture to 
 encroach upon that world of supplication. Rather, 
 
 32
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 thereafter, I humbly prostrated myself before 
 His throne of mercy, and realizing my nothing- 
 ness, drew nigh to pray, with faltering tongue 
 and broken language, for the bestowal of His 
 beneficence upon me. And so, day by day, He 
 heard my petitions. 
 
 33
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PASSING OF TOM BAKER. 
 
 From the beginning I was resolved to bear 
 without outward murmur or complaint the bur- 
 dens of Prison life. How great some of these 
 were, only the perusal of my memoir will reveal. 
 
 As I had served several terms in State Prisons, 
 my assignment to duty placed me in a Convict 
 squad which was divided into three gangs, and 
 recognized as the Third Termers. To be num- 
 bered among this squad was to be put in the 
 dual position of being subjected to the greatest 
 degree of ignominy and laborious tasks of the 
 most servile character. First Termers, openly 
 and without restriction, sneered at the Third 
 Termers, and when favorable opportunities arose, 
 actually heaped indignities upon them. 
 
 In the college days, it is the freshman who is 
 put through the sprouts, and thus initiated into 
 the ways and by-ways of College life. In my 
 Prison life it was quite different. The old-timer, 
 the Convict of experience, hardened in crime, 
 and, presumably, possessed of all the knowledge 
 that the novice lacked, was the victim of initia- 
 tion. The greater the length of his Prison record, 
 the more liable he was to be the recipient of the 
 rough, coarse and, not infrequently, brutal and 
 inhuman Prison custom. 
 
 34
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 I have endeavored to think that the sore trials 
 which fell to my lot, seemingly at the hands of 
 my Fellow Convicts, were mine more by accident 
 than by design. However that may have been, it 
 has always been my desire to let the facts tell 
 the tale, that the Divine One and the justice- 
 dealing public, the American people, may judge 
 me. As for the punishments I received from the 
 Prison officials who had charge of my body, they 
 were accepted as a part of the price I was called 
 upon to pay as an atonement for my crimes. 
 Whether or not I was too grievously afflicted, I 
 will not venture to say. The verdict in this 
 regard I also must accept at the hands of God 
 and my fellow-men. 
 
 In less than a week after my incarceration 
 began, I was installed in scavenger duty. This 
 included a class of work highly offensive to a 
 man unaccustomed to the conventionalities and 
 niceties of life. To one whose early youth had 
 been toned with refining influences, and whose 
 later dollars were potent to thrust him in good 
 society, this menial employment for the State, 
 was not alone bitter punishment, but was, at the 
 same time, positively nauseating. And then, there 
 were periods when my body was scourged almost 
 to the limit of endurance. Confident I am now 
 that God's sustaining power kept me from crying 
 out under bodily distress, that my punishment 
 was more than I could endure. 
 
 Frequently I was called to the Prison yard on 
 
 35
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 railroad duty, which also took me outside of the 
 walls. This task consisted in dragging railroad 
 freight cars in and out of the Prison, and unload- 
 ing them. The officials did not take pains to 
 select fair weather in which to perform the work, 
 and, perhaps, they could not have done differently 
 had they been inclined toward leniency. 
 
 Nevertheless, the December days I spent in and 
 about Sing Sing were remarkable for the bit- 
 terness of the cold. The icy Hudson River, with 
 its broad sweep, lay up against the west side of 
 the Prison, and was only separated from the 
 yard by a formidable iron fence. In the north 
 wall, the Prison gate opened to a spread of rail- 
 road tracks, on which were rolled the cars that 
 were switched to them from the main line in 
 front of the Prison. The north and west winds 
 seemed to blow continuously, and with a strength 
 and iciness that sent them piercing into the blood, 
 and chilling the marrow. 
 
 To successfully breast this trying weather, it 
 required the blood of fresh young manhood. Ad- 
 versely, the Third Termers were composed, for 
 the most part, of men well advanced in years, 
 which, of itself, unfitted them for these tasks. In 
 addition to this handicap many of them were in 
 feeble health, and, in several instances, far ad- 
 vanced in the stages of consumption. These 
 latter, very often, won my sympathy, and more 
 than once I was so moved to pity that I would 
 have protested had there been any chance of 
 
 36
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 obtaining relief for them. They, too, were paying 
 the penalty, and that it was a cruel one I dare 
 not gainsay. 
 
 I was more than three-score years of age and 
 though much better equipped to withstand the 
 slavish work than they, it bore me to the earth 
 only too often, until I was glad to escape to the 
 seclusion of my Cell, where I was kept in soli- 
 tary confinement, until strong enough to resume 
 my task again. 
 
 I think it was in the second week of my incar- 
 ceration, that there came a sudden increase in the 
 manufacturing done in the Prison shops. This 
 cause produced the logical effect of a great 
 influx of freight-bearing cars, and a consequent 
 unloading and reloading of them with Convict- 
 made wares. This placed an enormous strain 
 upon the human machines the Third Termers! 
 From the time of their induction into this work, 
 which was early in the morning until the locking 
 up hour at night, it was an incessant grind, and 
 an awful rush, entailing great exhaustion upon 
 the men. There were days when the duties 
 waxed so exacting that the midday meal was not 
 reckoned a necessity in the manual of the care- 
 less, or should I say, heartless keepers! Not 
 infrequently I saw a poor emaciated fellow sink 
 in his tracks in the snow, and it seemed to me 
 that he was only removed in order that his body 
 might not cumber the railroad tracks, and, in 
 consequence, retard the moving of cars. 
 
 37
 
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 One day in the beginning of this period of 
 multiplied labor I shall not forget, nor will my 
 fellow-victims of the squad. And, right here, I 
 must describe the scene. There was an apology 
 for a yard, which was corrugated with the rails 
 of three tracks. That is, with a snowless ground, 
 the corrugation was there in view, but on this 
 day the rails were undisclosed because of a four- 
 inch layer of hard-frozen snow, and newly formed 
 ice. At least ten freight- weighted cars stood ice- 
 bound to the tracks situated farthest from the 
 Prison gate. 
 
 Not a few of the squad had failed to respond 
 to the breakfast call. The hardships of the pre- 
 vious day had left them in their cells at night, 
 more dead than alive. So, off to the hospital they 
 were dragged or carried for physical repairs, or, 
 death not coming, happily to release them from 
 their torture, bundled in with the next transfer 
 party destined for Clinton Prison farther north 
 in the State. That left the several gangs con- 
 siderably depleted, and, thereby, still less capable 
 of coping with the gigantic task which they must 
 perform. 
 
 As I have heretofore related, the morning was 
 bitterly cold, the thermometer having well-nigh 
 ceased to register its frigidity. There was a 
 searching northwesterly wind blowing, that fairly 
 ate into the vitals. The cheap, threadbare suits 
 of stripes, always the clothing of the Third 
 Tenners, were little protection from the devour- 
 
 38
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ing cold which seemed to burn the flesh like hot 
 iron. 
 
 It was a Prison regulation that Convicts per- 
 forming such work, must be supplied with gloves 
 or mittens, but these were not in evidence, except 
 in rare instances. The man who was fortunate 
 enough to have covering for his hands owed it 
 to his perspicacity in stealing a pair of mitts or 
 gloves. 
 
 I recall that I could have had, and did have a 
 pair of mittens, but I gave them to Tom Baker, 
 a frail fellow, a comrade whose Cell was but a 
 few paces from mine. 
 
 Of nights his incessant, dry cough, often awoke 
 me to the fact that he would not long be a burden 
 to the State, nor to the world, except for the 
 nameless grave he must soon fill. As I have 
 said, I gave my mittens to him, and though he 
 was a criminal with his wife's blood on his hands 
 and soul, he appeared to be grateful, and I real- 
 ized a sense of gladness in doing it. Therefore 
 most of us were gloveless or mittenless, and ill- 
 prepared to face the weather of winter days. 
 
 As a contrariety, the trio of keepers who con- 
 trolled us, one at the head of each of three gangs, 
 were bundled up in woolens and fur coats, and 
 their hands were comfortably geared in wool- 
 lined gloves. Neither of the three failed to have 
 with him the stout hickory stick, which too often 
 was plied upon the head, shoulders, or back of a 
 Convict, who happened, in any way, to offend 
 
 39
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 die dignity of one of these high and mighty per- 
 sonages. One of the trio on that particular morn- 
 ing, must have met with some serious disappoint- 
 ment the preceding night, for he was in an ex- 
 ceedingly disgruntled frame of mind. At his 
 best he was offensively overbearing, but on this 
 occasion there was the brute ferocious flaunted 
 in his every word and act. 
 
 A dozen of us, unfortunately, were in the gang 
 which came under this fellow's immediate com- 
 mand. I presume he did not especially select me 
 as a mark at which to fire the guns of his dis- 
 pleasure, but so it appeared to me. At any rate, 
 he was not at all tardy in directing his attention 
 my way, as I found out. 
 
 "Pick up them drag lines, you old fakir, and 
 don't stand looking like an undertaker at a 
 funeral!" he shouted at me, meaning the half 
 dozen lengths of coarse rope which lay almost 
 buried in the snow, and which were used as 
 draught ropes by the Third Termers. Each gang 
 was provided with a rope, at one end of which 
 was a large iron hook shaped to fit in the draw- 
 head of a car, where it could be held in place by 
 a coupling-pin. 
 
 As I attempted to lift the bundle of ropes and 
 iron, he kicked his hob-nailed boots against one 
 of the frozen coils as a sort of emphasis to his 
 command. The result was extremely painful to 
 me, for a nail in the boot cut a ragged gash across 
 the back of my right hand, which was excep- 
 
 40
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 tionally sensitive, because of its half-frozen con- 
 dition. 
 
 For an instant I withdrew from the task to 
 stem the flow of blood that he plainly saw was 
 staining the snow. The pain which he had acci- 
 dentally or purposely inflicted upon me did not 
 appear to excite either his sympathy or interest. 
 
 "You 're wasting precious time, you old 
 
 fool!" he shouted again, puncturing his coarse 
 remarks with two stinging strokes of his cane 
 across my bent shoulders. For the moment I 
 was staggered by unpreparedness, and then down 
 on my knees I went with considerable force, and 
 surprising suddenness. When I had struggled to 
 a standing posture again, the left side of my face 
 was bleeding freely from half a dozen small 
 jagged wounds, caused by a rough patch of ice 
 over which it had scraped. 
 
 "Blockhead! Dolt!" roared the keeper, inter- 
 mittently, in a string of oaths. "Of what earthly 
 use," he added, "is such an old, canting hypo- 
 crite as you!" Then, with a hand that was far 
 from gentle, he shoved me aside to make room 
 for the next nearest Convict, who proved to be 
 No. 333 of the squad Tom Baker. 
 
 "See if you can pick up a few ounces of rope !" 
 he bellowed at him. The words contained a de- 
 cided vein of sarcasm clearly intended for me. 
 I felt my blood tingle a little ! 
 
 Poor Tom weakly gathered up the mass of 
 rope with his hands in the mittens I had given 
 
 41
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 him, and moved on ahead of the gang, his haunt- 
 ing, dry cough beating a sort of dirge to his 
 every step. I, with the others of our gang, fol- 
 lowed, still bleeding, but resolved and prayerful. 
 
 The cars which were to be transferred, stood 
 outside of the Prison yard, and pretty well up 
 toward the depot, which was probably three hun- 
 dred yards distant from the Prison proper. The 
 one that my gang was expected to tackle first, 
 was heavily laden with dozens of bags of cement, 
 and several scores of barrels containing lime. 
 The car must be hauled along the tracks into 
 the Prison yard, and alongside a platform. After 
 that it was the duty of the gang to carry the 
 cement and lime from the car to the storehouses 
 which were some distance away. 
 
 As Tom Baker staggered on with his heavy 
 burden, it was apparent that he would not be able 
 to stand the strain long, and my heart bled for 
 him, smarting though I was with the distress of 
 my wounds. I wondered, indeed, if he would 
 reach the car and succeed in stretching the 
 draught rope in front of it. Though the poor 
 lad was a sorry spectacle, no one in our gang, nor 
 any one of the entire squad of Third Termers, 
 dared to enter a protest. To do so would have, 
 as each man knew, uselessly invited the dis- 
 pleasure of all of the keepers, without benefiting 
 in the least the object of pity. The penalty for 
 creating this displeasure was of such a character 
 that no one felt quite brave enough to risk the 
 
 42
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 consequent three days of solitary confinement in 
 the Dark Cell, with its menu per diem of a small 
 square of black bread, and a thimbleful of brack- 
 ish water. 
 
 As best he could, the wretched Tom tottered 
 along to the first car. When he halted in front 
 of it and threw down the rope, I saw that he 
 was stumbling about as a blind man might have 
 done. Then he fell prone on the snow-crust, 
 where he lay panting for breath, a sight to be 
 witnessed with naught but profound compassion. 
 I was smitten to the heart. Pushing forward, 
 I was on the point of offering him assistance, 
 when the keeper seized me roughly by the shoul- 
 der and hurled me backward. 
 
 "Are you in charge here?" he demanded with 
 a sneer. 
 
 "I'm sure I am not, sir," was my quiet reply, 
 "but I'd like to be for a moment. It seems to 
 me that No. 333 isn't feeling well this morning." 
 
 "And that 's none of your infernal business," 
 he cried, angrily. "Let me inform you that 
 you 're interfering with what is no affair of yours, 
 and I won't have it. I'm the keeper here, and 
 you 're simply an old white-livered Convict!" 
 
 "Your pardon, keeper," I said, stepping back a 
 pace or two. He turned to Tom Baker. 
 
 "Up with you, No. 333," he cried, as with 
 brute strength he grasped the motionless con- 
 sumptive by the lapels of the coat, and sought to 
 drag him to his feet. The rotted cloth was rent 
 
 43
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 with the effort, disclosing underneath it a folded 
 newspaper which Tom had spread over his lungs 
 to protect them from the cold. When the cloth 
 yielded, No. 333 fell back on the snow again with 
 a lead-like thud, that must have bruised him. 
 
 "Wait keeper," he said, in a hoarse whisper 
 that thrilled even the most hardened of the Third 
 Termers. My compassion swelled beyond all 
 control. Bleeding though I was, it required but 
 an instant to brush aside the keeper, and put my- 
 self beside this stricken comrade. I tried to 
 gather up his emaciated body in my arms, but 
 was unequal to the strain, unexacting as it was. 
 Two of the men boldly came to my assistance, 
 and together we raised him to a sitting posture. 
 
 But the grim, merciless messenger of death 
 was knocking at Tom's door with a certainty that 
 none of us could misunderstand. A rivulet of 
 bright arterial blood trickled from his lips, and 
 threaded its way to the immaculate snow, where 
 in crimson vividness it stood out in startling con- 
 trast 
 
 "Wait wait oh, wait," the suffering man 
 murmured, his voice pitifully weak and gurgling 
 with the flow. A Convict removed his coat and 
 spread it on the snow. Gently we laid No. 333 
 on it. He made another effort to speak, but the 
 ominous letting of lifeblood choked his utterance. 
 
 "Off with your coats, boys!" I said to three 
 of the Third Termers, and while they obeyed, 
 knowing intuitively the reason, I chafed the hands 
 
 44
 
 ' *'"" 
 
 R?vaBBi5:r 
 Bread Line at the McAuley Mission on a Christmas Day
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 of the poor fellow. By the time my comrades had 
 covered him with their coats, he gave symptoms 
 of returning consciousness. 
 
 "Better, comrade?" I asked, and it was en- 
 couraging to note that he understood. Then I 
 put my lips to his ear and whispered : 
 
 "Pray, Tom, pray to God while you have time I 
 In another hour it may be too late !" 
 
 He shook his head in a hopeless sort of way. 
 I felt that here was a soul about to go to its Cre- 
 ator a soul that was blinded by the blackness of 
 its crime. I felt that to make him know I must 
 speak in a language that would be familiar to him. 
 Bending even closer, I whispered: 
 
 "Dump the old game, Tom, and take a tumble ! 
 Pray to Jesus! He'll hear you! Don't mind if 
 your life is blacker than hell. I swear that Jesus 
 will save you! I'm a square one, Tom, and am 
 not lying to you ! He's forgiven me, and that 's 
 why I can swear to you ! I'm saved, Tom, and 
 am going to Heaven ! You must go, too !" 
 
 He opened his eyes widely, wonderingly, in- 
 credulously eyes that were almost beautiful, I 
 thought. 
 
 "It's God's truth, Torn will you pray?" I 
 urged. 
 
 "I don't know how," he breathed, so softly that 
 I could scarcely catch the words. 
 
 "You don't have to know how, Tom, old pal," 
 I whispered, feeling my eyes filling, and my 
 throat throbbing with emotion. "J us * think, 
 
 45
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 yearn, reach out, believe, no matter how black 
 your crimes! Pray to Him say anything one 
 word, two, a dozen this, 'God be merciful to me, 
 a sinner !' Say those words twice, and belief will 
 come He '11 hear and forgive you ! I swear it, 
 old pal! He saved me, and He'll save you! 
 Won't you try, Tom?" 
 
 He nodded his head feebly in the affirmative, 
 and I saw his lips move. It seemed to me that 
 there was a sudden change in his pale face it 
 became illuminated, strangely illuminated. Could 
 it be that hope had entered his stricken soul ? 
 
 All this occupied but a moment, and, in the 
 meantime, the keeper had been more deeply 
 stirred with pity than I thought it was in him to 
 be. He had hastily sent half a dozen of the gang 
 back to the Prison for blankets, brandy, and a 
 litter. 
 
 By the time these things arrived, No. 333 was 
 able to be moved, and I was one of those who 
 lifted him on the litter. The strain was almost 
 too much for his feeble strength. One of the 
 men drew the cork from a brandy bottle, and 
 placed the liquid to Tom's lips. He tried to turn 
 away his head. 
 
 "Don't," I said! "he can't stand it! 'T would 
 strangle him !" In my heart I believed that Tom 
 had, at last, repelled his lifelong enemy the real 
 author of his terrible record of crime. 
 
 As they started away with him, I quickly 
 reached for his hand and whispered : 
 
 46
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "Is it all right with you, Tom?" It seemed 
 as if he pressed my hand. That was all the 
 answer I got, except I discovered an unusual glad 
 light in his eyes. In some manner I was led to 
 believe that he had found the peace which cometh 
 from God, and which passeth the understanding 
 of the wicked mortal, and is potent to deliver 
 from the torments of sin the vilest transgressor of 
 Divine law. I can not positively say that he made 
 his peace with God, but I firmly believe he did. 
 
 I walked along by the side of the litter for a 
 few paces, intending to accompany him to the 
 hospital door, but the gruff voice of the keeper 
 halted me. 
 
 "About face, White!" he commanded, "and 
 get your old hulk on top of that freight car, and 
 let off them brakes !" 
 
 I took a lingering glance at the receding form 
 of No. 333, and straightway turned away to 
 obey. I have ever since carried a vivid picture in 
 my memory of him as he appeared that day, for 
 he never came in my life again. 
 
 It was no easy thing for me to climb the iron 
 ladder which extended up the side of the tall 
 box car, to the top of which I had been told to 
 go. I swung myself clumsily and safely up the 
 first few frosted rungs, but, unfortunately, my 
 snow-clogged shoes slipped, and with a groan 
 I fell backward to the earth, a distance, perhaps, 
 of six feet. 
 
 In the desperate effort to save myself, my bared 
 
 47
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 hands were thrust in the snow. Flushed with 
 shame over the sorry figure I was cutting, I 
 scrambled to my feet, and made another attempt, 
 but with what result one may well conceive, when 
 my wet hands came in contact with the frost- 
 encrusted iron. My palms and fingers clung, 
 became glued as it were, to the rungs, and to 
 remove them instantly meant to lacerate my flesh. 
 That alone was sufficient to make me hesitate, to 
 say nothing of the burning sensation experienced 
 through the contact. 
 
 The keeper saw my uncertainty, and it angered 
 him. With an oath he caught me by the coat 
 collar, and yanked my hands away from the car, 
 leaving small patches of flesh on the rungs. I 
 could have howled with pain, but I set my teeth 
 determinedly, meanwhile praying in my soul, that 
 God would take away from me the burning desire 
 to kill the brute with anything that would serve 
 as a club. I did snatch a coupling-pin from the 
 car-bumper nearest me, but instead of braining 
 him, I slid it in its place, after another Convict 
 had inserted the hook of a draught rope in the 
 opening of the drawhead. 
 
 Upon leaving hold of the pin, its shank bore 
 other shreds of my flesh and stains of blood. 
 Again I could have cried with excruciating pain, 
 but controlled myself with a mighty effort, while 
 from my heart I breathed a silent' prayer for spir- 
 itual and physical strength to still continue to 
 uncomplainingly bear the wages of my sins. 
 
 48
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Long I contemplated as to whether or not 1 
 would cumber these pages with the manifold 
 trials of that day, with the multiplied experiences 
 of the succeeding days and weeks, in which I 
 remained in Sing Sing with the tale of the 
 indignities, the cruelties, the repeated inhuman- 
 ities, the concentrated horrors, the like of which 
 even the black slaves of the South, in the darkest 
 hours of their bondage, never endured or suf- 
 fered. 
 
 I feared my motive would be misunderstood, if 
 I told too much of a plain tale. There might be 
 those, too, who would accuse me of attempting 
 to set myself upon the pedestal of the martyr, 
 when, of a truth, I only desired to show, in every 
 act and word, how efficacious was the religion of 
 Jesus Christ to succor in the day of tribulation 
 so debauched and wicked a creature as I. 
 
 I argued that a diary of my daily hardships, a 
 veracious chronicle of the darkest side of Sing 
 Sing, of the undercurrent of officialdom there, in 
 so far as it dominated the lives of the Convicts, 
 and shaped their future, would be of immense 
 value in the way of bringing about a much-needed 
 reformation. It seemed to me that the world 
 ought to know, must know, what sort of influ- 
 ence the Prison keepers were exerting over their 
 charges whether it served to force the penal- 
 ized man, who yet had a soul, into a still deeper 
 pit of degradation than he had hitherto descended 
 to. Or, whether this official influence was of 
 
 49
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 such a character as to uplift the soul wallowing 
 in the abyss of unrighteousness to a better, a 
 purer life, where there would be more likelihood 
 of fitting that soul to be with the Divine Power 
 Who created it, and for the betterment of the 
 world at large. 
 
 It occurred to me that there might be those who 
 would, in all conscientiousness, and with logical 
 foundation, doubt me, the lowly Convict, ques- 
 tion my sincerity, and find me guilty of crucifying 
 the truth on the altar of self-exaltation. If only 
 a few believed this, even then the cross would be 
 heavy to bear. Adversely, if many regarded me 
 as an apostle of untruth, a son of the Father of 
 Lies, then woe unto me, and to the good that I 
 would, through His will, accomplish ! All would 
 be absolutely overwhelmed in a vast sea of pre- 
 judice. 
 
 I prayed to God with my soul fervently, irrev- 
 ocably committed to Him. I appealed for guid- 
 ance in this regard, in the halting, irresolute style 
 of the one precipitately transported into the 
 beauties of Salvation one whose faltering tongue 
 was too uncertain for fluency in prayer, but 
 whose heart-earnestness gave him admission to 
 the Throne of Indulgence. 
 
 Having one's heart searched by the all-seeing 
 Eye, that every vestige of hidden sin might be 
 brought into the pure sunshine of truth, means 
 that room has been created therein for as per- 
 fect a faith as a soul may possess and exist in 
 
 50
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 the flesh. And thus was I tested of God, and 
 taught to recognize in His gracious voice, as it 
 spoke to my soul, the reassurance that He would 
 stand by me, even unto the finality of all things 
 worldly. In the end, His still small voice bade 
 me speak the truth, but revile no man ! Sufficient 
 was it to permit the iron to sear where it would, 
 but the artisan guiding it must harbor no bit- 
 terness in his heart, believing and never doubting 
 that in God alone was vested the power to say: 
 "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord 1" 
 
 I have written of the evil things that befell 
 me as best I could, hoping that by my example 
 others, enthralled in the snares of sin, might 
 be saved. In no word or deed, regardless of 
 adverse interpretation, have I intended to mali- 
 ciously inveigh against any one. In each intona- 
 tion, by the look of the eye, flourish of the hand, 
 in my goings and comings, I have labored to 
 have the spirit of God speak through me, a 
 feeble instrument in His scheme of salvation. 
 
 Therefore, it was to the glory of my Master 
 that I was able to bear, with no outward lamenta- 
 tion, the bruising and starving of my body, the 
 humbling of my pride, and that which was of 
 equal moment, the suspicion that I was not sincere 
 in my profession of Christianity, but was, rather, 
 a wolf in sheep's clothing. 
 
 When I was directed by my keeper to obtain a 
 tin cup from the Prison kitchen for him, from 
 which he might drink hot water to relieve a 
 
 51
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 stomach badly ravaged by indigestion, I knew 1 
 was expected to steal. It was contrary to the 
 rules set down by the warden for even a keeper 
 to have in the institution a cup such as he wanted, 
 yet, if I would remain on amicable terms with 
 him I must obey. 
 
 Of one thing I was certain I would not steal ! 
 I would go to the kitchen, and take the cup in 
 the presence of the official in charge, and if he 
 asked me what I wanted it for, I would tell him. 
 Within twenty-four hours the keeper had the 
 cup. I had picked it up from a table, with the 
 officer's eyes upon me. He reported the fact to 
 the head keeper, who interrogated me. I told 
 that dignitary the truth. My keeper laughed de- 
 risively, and declared I was a sly old beggar. 
 
 "It is a pity that this snivelling hypocrite can 
 not be content with his preaching and praying," 
 he said to the head keeper, "and not spoil his 
 piety-game by stealing in Prison. But it's in 
 the blood, and he can't help it. That's why he is 
 a Third Termer !" 
 
 That night I was in the Dark Cell, and for 
 three days and two nights thereafter. The name 
 Dark Cell does not adequately describe its hor- 
 rors. A more fitting appellation would be the 
 Black Cell, or, still better, the Black Hole! In- 
 deed, language is too weak a vehicle, when used 
 to convey what it really was and stood for. This 
 Black Hole completely answered the purpose for 
 which it was created. A legally proved bad man 
 
 52
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 was eligible to occupy it, only when discovered to 
 be doubly bad, and being adjudged doubly bad, 
 he was immeasurably punished. 
 
 In the Black Hole there was not a glimmer 
 of light by day or by night. Its odor of the 
 grave was stench in the nostrils. Eyes might 
 as well be sightless, for there was naught to 
 see, and ears served no purpose, unless it was 
 to intensify to madness the sounds of the shuf- 
 flings of the incarcerated one, for there was no 
 vibration coming in from the outer world to give 
 notice that it existed. 
 
 The black bread for sustenance, and brackish 
 water for thirst, were there to be discovered 
 more by the true instinct of the animal than by 
 the reasoning of intellect. It was the life sub- 
 terranean of the mole, plus the power of reason- 
 ing, and, co-equally, the intellect of the human, 
 plus the half blind groping of the mole ! 
 
 Who can say that the mole is not the more 
 fortunate? It is happy, no doubt, in its imper- 
 fect seeing, in that it burrows as the price of its 
 existence. Surely man in the Black Hole had de- 
 scended to the role of the creeping thing. I 
 can not believe that God, in His infinite mercy, 
 lent His hand to the invention of so base a cru- 
 elty! It remained for man to enact the bar- 
 barous ! 
 
 I lived in the Black Hole seventy-two hours, 
 but my experience was not like what I have so 
 weakly described, true as it was in regard to 
 
 53
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 others. For I had with me the staff of His 
 truth to guide my feet, the illumination of His 
 blessed sacrifice for the lost in sin to banish the 
 darkness, the soft whisperings of His reassuring 
 voice to speak to my soul, and faith in the ful- 
 fillment of His glorious promise, that He would 
 be with me always, even unto the end. 
 
 54
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TRIUMPH OVER DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 It was on a Monday morning that the Black 
 Hole delivered me to the world my Prison 
 world again. That marvellous human telegraph 
 which is extant among Convicts soon gave me 
 a full understanding of what had occurred during 
 my isolation. 
 
 "Samuel Hopkins Hadley talked to the pris- 
 oners in the chapel yesterday," said my informant,, 
 and there fell upon me a heaviness that wore into 
 my soul. Of all human beings I most desired to 
 see and hear, Samuel Hopkins Hadley was the 
 one. He was the instrument that God had em- 
 ployed to reach down in the depths of the pit 
 and lift me to a realization of the saving grace of 
 my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ! J 
 
 I wanted to hear him utter some of the mes- 
 sages from the Master he served, in his gruff, 
 bluff, convincing style, that appealed to one 
 steeped in vice with a power that was more 
 effective than much of the polished eloquence 
 heard in the pulpit. I wanted to grasp his hand 
 and say, in the fulness of my heart, how grateful 
 I was for the help he had been to me. 
 
 While I was in temporary exile, he had talked 
 to the prisoners. No doubt he had repeated the 
 story of his life, boldly confessing to half of it 
 
 55
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 being spent in professional gambling, drunken- 
 ness, debauchery, and crime, often a companion 
 of these. I imagined that he must have spoken 
 in this vein, for he had done so on a Sunday 
 two years prior, when I was an inmate of 
 Sing Sing, and nearing the completion of my 
 second term there. On that occasion, his words 
 had pierced my heart, with an arrow that stood 
 quivering in the wound. 
 
 He painted a masterful picture of his life. He 
 had been a drunkard, and I was, too, when freed 
 from Prison restraint. God had reformed him, 
 while I, even as he spoke, was yearning for 
 liquor to quench a thirst that years of indulgence 
 had made well-nigh perpetual. He had gambled 
 for a livelihood. So had I. I had been the pro- 
 prietor of one of the most elaborate of New 
 York's gilded hells, and from which I had started 
 many a bright young man on the sure road to 
 eternal damnation. 
 
 Samuel H. Hadley, I remembered, laid bare his 
 wicked life before his Convict auditors. He did 
 not fail to tell them of his guilt as a thief, forger, 
 and liar. With what rapt attention I drank in his 
 words only God knew, and with what suddenly 
 awakened anguish I realized the blackness of my 
 sin-infected soul, it makes me shudder to recall. 
 
 If Mr. Hadley believed himself to have been 
 vile, what, then, was my condition ? Shadowy as 
 his record was, it shone in immaculate whiteness 
 compared with mine! I had robbed banks, cor- 
 
 56
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 rupting young bank clerks to do it, encouraged 
 police officials in crime, insuring my freedom 
 through the money I paid them, and, more awful 
 than all of these, I had imputed to me the hor- 
 rible characterization of having posed as a pure, 
 noble-minded man in a church pew, that I might 
 better pursue the calling of a successful thief. 
 
 I was regarded as a living example of "Good 
 and Evil" the Good a cloak for the Evil 1 
 
 And Mr. Hadley told of the loyalty of his wife, 
 until, at length, his debauchery drove her in sor- 
 row from him. So I had been loved by a woman 
 one better, sweeter, and more companionable 
 never having breathed the breath of life ! Shall 
 I ever forget the agony that came in her eyes, 
 and blanched her cheeks, upon learning of my 
 true character ? But she clung to me as the vine 
 clings to the old oak, and would not lose hope of 
 my ultimate reformation, until, at last, weighted 
 with sorrow and disappointment over a broken 
 idol, she faded away and passed on to her 
 heavenly reward! 
 
 How abhorrent to her pure soul my black life 
 must have been, I now know. Tottering on 
 the brink of the grave, I have come to realize how 
 her spirit was crushed at the outset, how her 
 tender, wifely love was put to the test ! If weep- 
 ing tears of blood could eradicate these memories, 
 how gladly would my eyes do such a penance. 
 My soul, groveling in the dust of repentance, even 
 as I write, cries out in agony: 
 
 57
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "How infinite must be the compassion of 
 Almighty God, that it will cover my sins with 
 a mantle of charity!" 
 
 And when Mr. Hadley had sinned almost be- 
 yond redemption, God's boundless mercy stepped 
 in and showed him the only way in which he 
 could escape from an eternity of well-earned pun- 
 ishment. His words must have sunk as deeply 
 into the hearts of other Convicts, as they did into 
 mine, for I was not alone, when, after the service, 
 I eagerly sought him in the warden's office, and 
 felt his strong hand-clasp. 
 
 "I thank you for your words, Mr. Hadley!" I 
 said hesitatingly, tears gathering in my eyes. 
 
 "The thief on the cross, breathing his last, 
 brother, cried out for salvation, and our Lord 
 Jesus interceded for him, and the dying one was 
 saved ! So will he intercede for us to-day if we 
 ask Him in simple faith !" 
 
 "The thief on the cross, and you in your sins, 
 were holy compared with my shameless life," I 
 said, in a voice that toned faintly in my own 
 ears. I was afraid he had not heard me. 
 
 "Christ's precious blood was shed freely, that 
 the whole world might be saved from sin," said 
 Mr. Hadley, and, continuing, "that same blood 
 was shed for you, my brother ! Can you believe 
 it?" 
 
 "I am going to try," I said. 
 
 "When do you leave here?" he asked. 
 
 "In two months." 
 
 58
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "As soon as that?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well, my brother," he said, shaking my hand 
 heartily, "will you promise to call on me at the 
 McAuley Mission in Water Street, New York, 
 as soon as you are free ?" 
 
 I said 1 would, and it was useless to conceal 
 the tears that forced themselves in my eyes. One 
 fell on the back of his hand clasping mine. 
 
 "God's Holy Spirit is striving with you now, my 
 brother," he said fervently, "so don't grieve It by 
 sending It away. Pray, pray for help, my brother 
 in sin and now farewell till we meet again at 
 the Mission!" 
 
 And this ended my first interview in 1899 with 
 Samuel H. Hadley. 
 
 True to my promise I went to the Mission, at 
 the Water Street address, and was accorded a 
 warm reception. Two months had done much to 
 harden the softening influence of his talk in the 
 Prison. His warnings had ceased to ring in my 
 ears, and I had again resumed my close compan- 
 ionship with that subtle of all deceivers rum. 
 
 Mr. Hadley was a keen observer, and he no 
 doubt saw the evidence of liquor's reascendency 
 over me, if indeed he didn't realize that the reason 
 for keeping my promise to call on him was to seek 
 pecuniary aid to supply me with whiskey and 
 food, rather than to look after the welfare of my 
 soul. 
 
 59
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 He startled me in a most abrupt manner. His 
 quick perception of my condition truly demon- 
 strated that he was a man possessed of a more 
 than ordinary power of observation. 
 
 "Why don't' you take a tumble to yourself?" he 
 asked in a stern appreciation of the valuable 
 time I was losing in making peace with God. 
 What could I say but mumble unintelligible 
 words, the meaning of which was as vague to 
 him as it was to me? He saw my plight, and, 
 I think, pitied me. 
 
 \"Come and sit here, Mr. White !" he said. He 
 motioned to a place on a sofa in his office. I sat 
 on it clumsily, while he drew up his arm chair and 
 seated himself directly in front of me. 
 
 "I'm not going to lecture you on the past," he 
 said, "so don't arm yourself for a defense on that 
 score. Also, consider me a friend, no matter 
 what happens to you and me !" 
 
 I felt a lump rising in my throat. This was a 
 man so utterly different from any other I had 
 ever met in missionary work. He went on: 
 
 "I speak to you as one who knows what it is 
 to be shipwrecked in a vast sea of sin, without 
 chart or compass, and then to have the Great 
 Captain of us all come along on the good ship 
 Salvation, and throw me a line. This Great 
 Captain said to me, 'Let the wicked man forsake 
 his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, 
 and let him return unto the Lord, for he will 
 abundantly pardon.' And instantly I was in 
 
 60
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 prayer. I asked Him if that message was meant 
 for the thief and the drunkard. In the still, small, 
 but unfailing voice, there came to me a some- 
 thing that pointed out the dying thief on the 
 cross. My brother, I took courage and grasped 
 the rope of eternal salvation and was pulled on 
 board! Soon I learned that the ship's chart to 
 guide me was an abiding faith in Jesus, and that 
 the compass was found in a fervent uplifting of 
 the heart in prayer to God." 
 
 "But I can't pray, Mr. Hadley," I said. "Once I 
 knew how, but now I can't! I am ashamed to 
 offer Him in repentance this fragment of life I 
 have left!" 
 
 "The thief on the cross was wiser than you, 
 Mr. White/' said this good man. 
 
 "Oh, but I was better taught in youth than he, 
 perhaps!" I argued, a feeling of opposition pos- 
 sessing me. 
 
 "Don't be a fool don't dissemble!" he cried. 
 "Christ died to save both you and me! Do you 
 doubt His word? Can't you feel it is so?" 
 
 I was tempted of the devil, it seemed, for I said, 
 "It's easy to be a Christian, Mir. Hadley, when 
 the sailing is smooth. You have comforts here 
 you want nothing you are not beset with sin, 
 while I am, even now, beseiged by the torments of 
 an appetite for drink that I can't control, and 
 that must be satisfied or I believe I will go mad i 
 I am hungry for food, too, and my raiment is 
 this !" and I showed him my clothing, which too 
 
 61
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 plainly bore the label of the recently discharged 
 Convict. 
 
 "I will feed and clothe you, man!" he said, 
 ignoring my reference to a desire for drink. 
 "Drive those things from your mind, my dear fel- 
 low!' he cried aloud. "It is your soul I want for 
 Jesus! In the name of God, can't you see how 
 I am troubled over you ? Can't you realize what a 
 reformed thief and drunkard is saying to you?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know, Mr. Hadley forgive me 
 don't think I am ungrateful, for I'm not only 
 only. 1 am so so " 
 
 "Remember, man, my brother!" he exclaimed, 
 at the top of his musical voice, then full of sobs, 
 "that some day you will have to stand face to 
 face with the Lord Jesus Christ! Do you know 
 that ? What will you say and do then ? Will you 
 plead for food to fill your stomach? Will you 
 call for whiskey to satiate that damnable thirst? 
 What will you do then in God's name, I say to 
 you now, what will you say when you come face 
 to face with Jesus Christ, who gave His blood 
 to save you, vile as you are?" 
 
 I forgot my appetites, forgot I was hungry 
 everything for the moment was swallowed up in 
 the sudden knowledge of this man s earnestness 
 for my soul's salvation. 
 
 In an instant he was standing in front of me, 
 trembling in every fibre of his body, his crippled 
 limb forgotten in the compassion of his wrought- 
 up soul. Then he fell to one knee, and we were 
 
 62
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 face to face, I yet sitting on the sofa, not having 
 changed my posture. I saw that he was in agony 
 the tears were coursing down his cheeks tears 
 that were being shed for me! 
 
 "Down on your knees right here !" sobbed Mr. 
 Hadley. "Right here beside me! God is 
 speaking to you this minute ! Can't you hear his 
 voice, my dear brother?" 
 
 He caught me about the shoulders, and pulled 
 me to my knees, and we were together beside 
 the sofa. 
 
 "Pray! pray! my brother in sin!" he urged 
 brokenly. "You can't pray twice in dead earnest 
 without having faith born in you ! I never knew 
 it to fail ! 'Twill be an evidence of God's spirit 
 working in you !" 
 
 I was choking with emotion was possessed of 
 a new sensation but I seemed to feel that I was 
 not in the mind Mr. Hadley expected me to be. 
 Nevertheless, I was shaking with a chill as of 
 approaching death. 
 
 "I want to pray, but I can't !" I said in a voice 
 that was almost smothered with sobs. 
 
 "You can you must pray! Say this, 'God be 
 merciful to me a sinner !' " 
 
 '"God be merciful to me a sinner!" I said 
 obediently. 
 
 "God be merciful to me a sinner!" repeated 
 Mr. Hadley so weakly that I could scarcely catch 
 his words. 
 
 "God be merciful to me a sinner !" I said after 
 
 63
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 him. I felt as though I had done something 
 right, but I was not in the realm where this 
 godly man was. 
 
 I was on my knees in his office, and trying to 
 pray as he bade me to. With him, how different. 
 He was not beside me I realized that. The 
 body, the clay, was there in the little office, but 
 Hadley, the man of God, was elsewhere! Shall 
 I say that his spirit was at the feet of his God 
 whom he adored, pleading for me? Ah, it must 
 have been so ! How he prayed ! 
 
 "Oh, God, I pray Thee take this man's sins 
 away, and give him a clean heart! Help him to 
 know how to believe make him to have a realiz- 
 ing sense of his utter hopelessness in sin, and how 
 anxious Thou art to save him from everlasting 
 damnation ! Oh Christ, hear Thou my prayer for 
 his deliverance!" 
 
 His words died away in an agony of supplica- 
 tion, after which he rested heavily on the sofa, 
 as though physically exhausted. I remained on 
 my knees for, perhaps, five minutes. Meanwhile 
 he did not stir. Then he rose with much effort, 
 and, standing, put his right hand in mine. I 
 stood up beside him. He pressed my hand and 
 smiled wearily. For an instant it seemed as 
 if I was being greeted by one who had been on 
 a long journey and just returned. 
 
 "How do you feel, Mr. White ?" he asked me. 
 
 "I don't know!" 
 
 64
 
 s 
 " 
 
 "2 < 
 
 s a 
 
 v> be 
 
 .- I 
 
 .'fe "3
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "Don't you feel that your soul has been saved ?" 
 he inquired simply. 
 
 I shook my head negatively, but the act only 
 indicated the uncertainty I felt. 
 
 "But you will be saved !" he said with a posi- 
 tiveness that I regarded in wonderment. "I 
 feel I know that my prayer will be answered! 
 Won't you try to pray for yourself from now 
 on? Oh, the religion of Jesus Christ is wonder- 
 ful, for it passeth all temporal understanding !" 
 
 I bowed my head. 
 
 "Ycu are resolved to turn over a new leaf, Mr. 
 White of that I am sure !" He declared this, as 
 one having a complete understanding. , 
 
 "With God's help, Mr. Hadley and will you 
 pray for me always?" 
 
 "Until the blessed Saviour calls me home, and 
 if it is possible that I can approach the throne 
 of grace there, and you need my feeble prayers, 
 I won't forget!" 
 
 Was it possible that this reformed drunkard 
 and transgressor of the laws of God and man 
 was so close to the Saviour that he heard the sum- 
 mons that was soon to come: 
 
 "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter 
 thou into the joy of thy Lord !" 
 
 I was hungry when I went to the Mission and 
 he fed me, penniless and he put money in my 
 pockets, desperate and he encouraged me, with- 
 out hope of a better life, and he pointed out the 
 way I should go. 
 
 65
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "You don't feel that you have been saved, Mr. 
 White?" Mr. Hadley asked, as he gave me a 
 parting shake of the hand. 
 
 "I'm afraid not, Mr. Hadley," I replied, "but 
 I am going to pray, and pray hard, and somehow 
 I feel there is hope for me! But, Mr. Hadley, I 
 am an awful sinner !" 
 
 "Come here every day!" he said. "There will 
 be none more welcome than you, whether you are 
 saved or unsaved!" 
 
 Deep in my heart I resolved to give a good 
 account of myself to him, even though I failed to 
 experience that change of heart which seemed to 
 uplift him to a world of which I was not a part. 
 As I walked away, these, his words, rang in my 
 ears: 
 
 "Remember, man, remember, my brother, that 
 some day you will have to stand face to face with 
 Jesus Christ!" 
 
 That memorable visit which was destined to 
 figure prominently in my after experience, was 
 followed by many others. Whenever I saw Mr. 
 Hadley which was often he was always the 
 same earnest seeker after my temporal and spir- 
 itual welfare, but there came a day when the 
 tempter found me disarmed not armed and for- 
 tified with that saving power, that breastwork of 
 Divine creation, which defies all the great bat- 
 teries which Satan and his cohorts in sin can 
 array to possess a saved soul. 
 
 I had been trying to be a Christian, bulwarked 
 
 66
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 by a will to be somebody, and to do something. 
 Perhaps I may call it a determination to reform 
 my old habits, and become a good citizen, and in 
 accomplishing these things, show Mr. Hadley, 
 with pride, what I could do. When the crucial 
 test came, how weak was the mortal to with- 
 stand it. I had not found the Saving Grace 
 which would have enabled me to cry out in deri- 
 sion: 
 
 "Get Ihee behind me, Satan !" 
 
 And so the demon rum got me in its toils 
 again, and down I went before it. I had pulled 
 myself together, found employment that brought 
 me in revenue honestly acquired, and was in a 
 fair way to win the full confidence of those who 
 trusted me, despite the past, when the crash came. 
 Before it self-pride went crumbling to destruction, 
 swiftly as the dust flies from the teeth of the 
 hurricane. 
 
 The few dollars I had garnered melted in drink 
 at the end of a week, and there was nothing left 
 to satisfy a craving for rum that seemed to be 
 intensified ten thousand times over what I had 
 ever known. The thirst I had, and that which 
 would satiate it I must have, therefore the inev- 
 itable followed. I stooped, I, the bank burglar 
 who had stolen millions, stooped to mean, petty 
 forgeries! But I got what I madly craved for! 
 It must be mine rum, rum, rum! 
 
 When the revenue from the first forgery was 
 exhausted, still I must have rum, and I forged 
 
 67
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 again. Then came the penalty discovery, pur- 
 suit, arrest, and the Cell in the Twenty-second 
 Precinct Police Station, New York, and there, in 
 that Cell, Mr. Hadley's warning was awakened in 
 my soul by the words of a vile, profane, debauched 
 woman. And he had said: 
 
 "Remember, man, remember, my brother, that 
 som<e day you will have to stand face to face with 
 Jesus Christ !" 
 
 No, I will not permit it to go on the final record 
 that these words from the lips of this godly man 
 were repeated to me by mere chance. That I will 
 never believe. On the contrary, I have an abid- 
 ing faith that the woman was an instrument in 
 God's plan for the salvation of my soul, and that 
 I became a Christian in answer to Mr. Hadley's 
 prayer. 
 
 And so I went on to pay the penalty for de- 
 frauding my fellow-man that I might quench 
 my thirst for rum. 
 
 With Mr. Hadley figuring so largely in my 
 conversion, is it small wonder that I was sorely 
 grieved, after emerging from a three days' so- 
 journ in the Black Hole of Sing Sing, to find I 
 had been cheated of an opportunity to see him and 
 tell him that his prayers had been answered? 
 
 Of a truth I wept that night as a child might, 
 whose dearest wish had been denied it. And then 
 I prayed for strength to overcome the longing to 
 gratify self-pride, and for help to bear with forti- 
 tude all disappointments, small or great, knowing; 
 
 68
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 that my Master's ways, though unaccountable to 
 the human mind, are none the less unerring. 
 
 Thereafter I had no distress on this score. 
 Though I was not permitted to see Mr. Hadley 
 again while I was in Prison, I was amply repaid, 
 not many days hence, in the receipt of a beautiful 
 letter from him, in which he anxiously inquired 
 after my health spiritually and physically. 
 
 The next day, through Chaplain Sanderson, I 
 obtained writing material, and the same night I 
 penned Mr. Hadley a long reply. And undoubt- 
 edly he had mingled feelings of regret and joy 
 in reading the letter, for I made no concealment 
 of what had happened to me, from the day we 
 last met, until my conversion in the Police Sta- 
 tion. Also, I told him I had not sent for him 
 to visit me in the Station House, because I 
 desired time in which to prove myself in the faith. 
 I carefully withheld any reference to the unpleas- 
 antness which fell to my lot as a member of 
 the Third Termers. 
 
 "I am bearing the cross with the help of God, 
 Mr. Hadley," I wrote him in conclusion, "and 
 the way is bright! I have been freed forever 
 from the bondage of sin, and through the aid of 
 the same Divine Power I am now serving my 
 last term in a Prison. The remainder of my 
 poor old life will be devoted to the service of our 
 blessed Lord!" 
 
 69 
 ^?
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN THE LIGHT PATCH. 
 
 The subsequent days I spent in Sing Sing were 
 often duplicates of the one on which Convict 
 Tom Baker was hastened to his death. 
 
 I think it was shortly before Christmas that I 
 underwent a trial which sorely drew upon my 
 will, and exercised my faith. It was after I had 
 spent a terrible day of labor in the railroad yard. 
 The weather was in the state when slush was 
 next to a hair's breadth of freezing, and shoes that 
 were whole amounted to nothing as guards from 
 three inches of snow-water, in which the Third 
 Termers had been obliged to tramp. As the soles 
 of my shoes were worn through to the stockings, 
 I had walked in this slush from early in the 
 morning until supper time, without an opportu- 
 nity to make a change. 
 
 Cold, wet, fagged to a thread, my determined 
 spirit exceedingly tried, with an almost unshak- 
 able sensation of depression, I half dragged my 
 body to the Cell, and dropped on the cot before 
 the turnkey had time to shoot the bolts in the 
 door. 
 
 The blood was roaring in my head under a 
 painful, feverish pressure, but otherwise I was 
 chilled to the marrow, and shook with distressing 
 violence. I lav there in this manner for several 
 
 70
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 minutes, with my eyes closed, hoping thereby 
 to get a renewal of energy. 
 
 Presently my nostrils sensed an odor that in- 
 creased in pungency every moment, until the 
 truth dawned upon my tardy brain with an 
 abruptness amounting to a shock. It set my head 
 in an increased whirl, and brought forward, with 
 a mighty rush, a temptation that I believed could 
 never be potent again to disarm me. 
 
 Whence had come the fumes of whiskey? 
 
 My cold extremities began to take on warmth 
 with each inhalation. I opened my eyes curi- 
 ously, but found the cell dark save for a small 
 patch of brownish-yellow light, which came from 
 a lamp in the corridor, and fell, diagonally, on the 
 stone flooring in the corner just opposite my cot. 
 
 In the illuminated space sat an uncorked, flat 
 bottle ! 
 
 It was two-thirds full of an amber liquid ! 
 
 Wis it the devil's own subtlety that suggested 
 the thought which at once captured me ? A voice 
 seemed to speak in sympathy. I could not explain 
 the why and wherefore of it. 
 
 "Here you are," said the voice, "a poor, weak, 
 chilled, old man, whom death is courting, and 
 God, in His wisdom and mercy, has produced 
 that which will provide warmth for your blood, 
 renew your strength, and, best of all, save your 
 life!" 
 
 I marvelled at this, and though not attempting 
 to rise from the cot, kept my eyes fastened to 
 
 71
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 the object that appeared to be there so super- 
 naturally. 
 
 "God has sent it to you in a needed hour," was 
 the persuasive interpretation of my thoughts. 
 "You are direfully ill and about to die, but this 
 will make you strong for the work God has saved 
 you to do ! God's ways, in providing for his chil- 
 dren of the faith, are indeed devious, and often 
 wonderful! See, you are almost felled with the 
 hardships imposed on you by those who have no 
 regard for the youth, or pity for the aged or 
 infirm ! Here, right before you, is an elixir when 
 most needed!" 
 
 "What is in the bottle?" I said half aloud, but, 
 nevertheless, I had no doubt of its nature, for its 
 fragrance always to me fragrance was unmis- 
 takable, and answered the query. Had God sent 
 me this means of relief from the awful state I 
 was in, or, were these meditations only creatures 
 of the devil, working in a disordered and weary 
 brain ? 
 
 I struggled up excitedly from the cot, and 
 staggered to the corner. Had I been strong, the 
 light spot would have been in reaching distance 
 of the cot. In an upright position my figure cast 
 a shadow in the corner, and the patch of light was 
 obscured. Was it that my brain had really fallen 
 ill, and that this was one of its tantalizing vaga- 
 ries? 
 
 I swung myself sidewise out of the range of 
 light so that it shone uninterruptedly in the Cell 
 
 72
 
 Underwood & Underwood 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wyburn co-laborers in the Work of Redeeming the Lost

 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 again. No ! I had not been laboring under a delu- 
 sion! Lunging forward I caught up the bottle, 
 and hysterically and swiftly placed its neck to 
 my lips. 
 
 But I did not drink from it ! 
 
 A power unseen, but strangely felt, stayed mel 
 Instead I set it down, and felt for the cork, which 
 in all probability was on the floor. I found it, 
 tight-corked the bottle, and stepped unsteadily 
 back to the cot. 
 
 .Victory, Victory! 
 
 "What a tiny victory was won !" I fancy some- 
 one will say, anent this rehearsal of an evil hour's 
 experience in a Prison Cell. 
 
 It may be, indeed, that a sneer will curl the lips 
 of the one unacquainted with the habits of an 
 habitual drunkard. To me it was an hour of 
 awful moment of terrible import ! I realized it 
 then, and its force is with me even to this day. 
 It was a triumph to me of so great a degree, that 
 I have defied criticism to tell of it, that those of 
 my fellow-men, cursed with a lurking appetite for 
 strong drink, may find comfort in these words, 
 and, perhaps, sympathize with me. 
 
 For hours I was there alone, while all about me 
 was silence, save for the occasional steppings of 
 the night guard, who, at intervals, shuffled along 
 the corridor in his soft shoes of felt. It is need- 
 less to say that I prayed long and earnestly, and 
 that a calmness overtook me, restfulness sup- 
 planted agitation, warmth drove away the chill 
 
 73
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 in my blood, and the strength of a strong man 
 superseded the weakling. 
 
 When I awoke after three hours of sleep it 
 was time to begin the preliminaries of another 
 day's work, but I was rejuvenated, both in soul 
 and body. 
 
 The bottle of whiskey lay under the cot where 
 I put it, though the mystery of its presence in my 
 Cell, and what purpose it was to serve, were still 
 unsolved. I left it in the corner of the Cell, on 
 going to work, but, as I expected, it was gone 
 when I returned at night. The hand that put 
 it there, had, undoubtedly, taken it away. 
 
 A week later the secret was revealed. "The 
 Kid," a mischievous First Termer who occupied 
 the Cell adjoining mine, and from which Tom 
 Baker had gone forever, was its author. The 
 news came to me through "Little Pete," a friendly 
 Third Termer who worked in my gang. 
 
 " 'The Kid' heard of yo'r relig'us turn, an* 
 that y'u'd been a boozer," said the latter, "an' he 
 put up the job." 
 
 "It's strange he'd risk parting with whiskey 
 when it's so hard to smXiggle inside the walls!" 
 I remarked wonderingly. 
 
 "It was pizen!" explained "Little Pete," with 
 a grin. "He stole a bit of wood alcohol from the 
 Paint shop, an' dashed it with some whiskey. 
 'Lookin'-glass' Charley, our keeper, give him 
 to make it have the color an' the smell !" 
 
 "I didn't drink the stuff," I said. 
 
 74
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "The Kid" bobbed his head and grinned. 
 
 "No, y'u didn't! That's what's hurtin' 'Look- 
 in'-glass' Charley! I guess he got The Kid' to 
 put up th' job on ye! Looks like it." 
 
 "I shall never let liquor pass my lips again, 
 Pete. It nearly cost me my soul," I replied 
 resolutely. 
 
 "Ef y'ud drinked th' stuff y'u'd lost y'ur life, 
 or I'm an innocent guy from Suckerville ! Don't 
 say I told y'u, George!" 
 
 And thus was explained the thing that led me 
 to give momentary consideration to temptation. 
 But even the effort of those who would do me 
 harm without a good reason, was turned to my 
 profit. Thereafter I was the better armed to 
 withstand the snares of the tempter that were ever 
 set along my path, ready to catch me in an un- 
 wary moment. And so it was wood alcohol over 
 which I had nearly stumbled ! Well, I had seen 
 the time when I would have risked even that 
 poison to quench the thirst of a whiskey-abused 
 throat. 
 
 "God give me a faith that is as immovable as 
 the Rock of Ages," was my daily prayer. "Help 
 me to breast the onslaught of evil ! If it combat' 
 me, warily, within these Prison walls, how much 
 greater will be the need of Thee out in the world, 
 where temptations are innumerable, and a thou- 
 sand fold more alluring." 
 
 75
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON TO THE PORT OF DESPAIR. 
 
 Toward the latter part of February, an inci- 
 dent which set the officials by the ears for fifteen 
 minutes, had the Prison yard for its scene. Three 
 of the Third Termers on railroad duty made an 
 exciting dash for liberty! The guards were 
 taken completely by surprise. 
 
 I was in the secret, having been informed 
 within an hour prior to the execution of the plan 
 of escape. I would not have known of it, but 
 for the fact of being on the same task with 
 them, and their uncertainty as to what I would 
 do in the emergency. Probably they reasoned 
 out a greater possibility of success if I were 
 afforded an opportunity to join them. Whatever 
 the motive was, they took me in their entire 
 confidence. 
 
 "The next freight train is due here in half an 
 hour!" explained one of the would-be escapers, 
 mentioning the exact time, which I do not now 
 recall, "and we're goin' to make a break for it 
 when the train pulls out for New York! Will 
 you come along? We'll ride a short distance, and 
 then take to the fields or woods !" 
 
 I declined. 
 
 "Weil you'll squeal on us, then?" he asked, 
 snappishly. 
 
 "I shall remain neutral," I assured them, "but 
 
 76
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 if I were in the place of either of you, I'd stick 
 till the front door opened, and let me out legally." 
 
 "The gates won't let me out for thirty years, on 
 that kind of schedule, an' then it '11 be in a hem- 
 lock box," growled the Convict who appeared to 
 be the ringleader. 
 
 "And for me, fifteen!" said the second. 
 
 "Twelve for mine!" declared the third. 
 
 "And this place, with its grafters and brutes, 
 is more of a hell than I care for !" said the thirty- 
 year man. "A bullet in the back '11 be pleasant 
 medicine t' stayin' here !" 
 
 "Better come with us," he added. 
 
 "No," was my decision. "I'm guilty, and that's 
 why I'm here I'm paying the penalty!" 
 
 "You don't think the judge knew he was send- 
 ing you t' hell, do y'u?" was the quick interro- 
 gation from the fifteen-year man, who seemed 
 to be desperate enough for any purpose. 
 
 "Things are awfully bad, but I'm going to 
 stay!" I replied in a tone in which there was 
 not a scintilla of doubt. 
 
 "Somethin' tells me you won't squeal!" the 
 longest-term prisoner said finally. 
 
 "That something tells you the truth, for I 
 shall be looking in another direction!" 
 
 "Thanks f'r bein' square !" said the thirty-year 
 man, roughly. 
 
 "You can't make it," was my parting warning, 
 "and then things will be worse." I couldn't find 
 it in my heart to stand in the way of these men. 
 
 77
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Our keeper was loitering under a shed some 
 distance away, safely housed from the winter 
 weather, so I walked away from the desperate 
 prisoners to another car, and resumed my task 
 of shovelling snow. There was a box car between 
 us. I saw to it that this was so. 
 
 Ten minutes later a long freight train, hauled 
 by two powerful engines, drew up to, and in 
 front of the Prison, where it halted with a great 
 hissing of steam and clatter of frosty steel and 
 iron. Not long afterward the puffing of the big 
 locomotives told me the train was in motion again, 
 and on its way out of Ossining. I continued to 
 work my shovel briskly, meanwhile waiting for 
 the inevitable. It came directly with shouts and 
 accompanying reports from discharged firearms. 
 Also I heard the clanging of the alarm bells in 
 the Prison inclosure, signifying that the head offi- 
 cials were cognizant of what was going on. 
 
 The jangle of the departing trains was decreas- 
 ing in volume, and now and then I heard shots. 
 Meanwhile I worked and wondered what had hap- 
 pened to the fugitives. Had they really gotten 
 away ? I did not think it possible. At this junc- 
 ture I heard the sharp blast of an engine whistle. 
 I knew from my railroad experience that it meant 
 down-brakes. One of the engineers of the train 
 had been informed of what was afoot. This, to 
 me, was a fair indication of the failure of the 
 escapers' dash for liberty. 
 
 When other shots were heard, a moment later, 
 
 78
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 there was no doubt of it in my mind. About 
 this time a guard rushed me out of the railroad 
 yard, and within the Prison walls. Other Con- 
 victs of the Third Termer contingent, were sim- 
 ilarly served. As for myself, I was more than 
 satisfied to get in out of the cold, and no doubt 
 my comrades were no less pleased. 
 
 Before reaching the seclusion of my Cell, the 
 would-be escapers were brought in and placed in 
 solitary confinement. So their plan for freedom 
 had been hopeless from the beginning. 
 
 In the first place, they had not bribed any of the 
 officials, therefore their chance of success was 
 not one in a hundred. I can not prove it, but I 
 make bold to say, that in every case where a Con- 
 vict successfully escaped from Sing Sing, he was 
 abetted in his plans by an official. That much 
 for what I think of the security of Sing Sing, if 
 those in command are faithful to the State. 
 
 The incident of the Third Termers' attempt to 
 rid themselves of Prison environment, carried me 
 back to my first term in Sing Sing. Once more I 
 compared the George White of that period, with 
 the George White of the later day, supported by 
 a strong faith in the power of God to change the 
 heart of a reckless sinner. When the opportunity 
 came then to evade serving the sentence rightfully 
 imposed, how eager I was to avail myself of it. 
 Indeed, I knew what it was to dash for liberty by 
 hiding myself in a canal boat moored at the 
 Prison side of the river for the purpose. And, 
 
 79
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 after that desperate attempt resulted in failure, I 
 knew what it was to ride out of the Prison yard 
 in my own carriage, which was rendered avail- 
 able through a subtle plan that, perhaps, has 
 never been equalled. Failure was not recorded in 
 the Prison books on that occasion. 
 
 But a great transformation had come over me. 
 I was no longer desperate and yearning for an 
 opportunity to escape from the penalty of my own 
 wrong-doing. I had sinned, and, my sins finding 
 me out, I was paying the penalty. But for my 
 conversion, the offer of the Third Termers to join 
 them, however hopeless the plan appeared, would 
 have been accepted, and regarded as a reckless 
 chance which might be taken as a means of de- 
 feating justice ! It was with extreme satisfaction 
 and heart-sincere gratitude to an all-wise Provi- 
 dence, therefore, that, "I lay me down to sleep," 
 in my Cell that night. 
 
 The following morning dawned with a clear 
 sky and a decided change in the temperature. 
 The harsh northwesterly winds which had 
 blown strongly and steadily for upwards of four 
 days had shifted to the south during the night. 
 Though there was a perceptible dampness in the 
 atmosphere, it held a degree of warmth in it that 
 was most acceptable, and, altogether, I began a 
 day with a more comfortable feeling than I had 
 known since the beginning of my incarceration. 
 It dosed with a happening which filled me with 
 dismay ! 
 
 80
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 A batch of Third Termers had been ordered to 
 prepare for removal to Clinton Prison at Danne- 
 mora, N. Y., the next day, and I was of the 
 number. Despite my faith that all would be for 
 the best, I went to bed feeling keenly apprehen- 
 sive of what the morrow would bring forward. 
 I was worried, and felt spiritually weaker than I 
 deemed it possible for me ever to be again. Most 
 earnestly I prayed for a stanch heart with which 
 to bravely meet any evil which might beset me. 
 
 I trust that those who read these lines will 
 refrain from thinking me vacillating between 
 faith and distrust. And, in justice to myself, I 
 wish to protest against this in the fullest sense. 
 As a matter of fact I do not believe it is within 
 the province of the normal, human being, unac- 
 quainted with "time service" in Clinton Prison, 
 to pass judgment upon the expressions of a Con- 
 vict who has been there, and endured the conse- 
 quent hardships. 
 
 Among Convicts, Clinton Prison was spoken of 
 in horror, as the Port of Despair, through whose 
 dark channel of approach one voyaged only to 
 leave behind all signs of hope. Consignment to 
 Sing Sing was held as ignominy intensified, from 
 the view-point of a Third Termer, but to dwell 
 in Clinton, as a "transfer," personified if you 
 please, was to be heaped with a superlative degree 
 of amalgamated sorrow, shame and degradation! 
 
 To a Convict in either Sing Sing or Auburn, 
 the mention of Clinton was synonymous with 
 
 81
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 hope buried in a Wilderness of Despair, from 
 which there was no chance of resurrection. Re- 
 form, in the same thought-cycle with Clinton, 
 was too remote for contemplation, since it was 
 regarded as among the events non-existent there. 
 
 To the hardened criminal, Clinton was a 
 scourge whose welts sank into his soul, so to 
 speak, and rendered him a more bitter and dan- 
 gerous enemy of society than ever. Clinton 
 Prison existed as moulded iron, a die that indel- 
 ibly stamped the soul of a Convict with the brand 
 of "felon eternal," from whose bourne none hope 
 to return. 
 
 To the criminal who became such through 
 misfortune rather than by premeditation, Clinton 
 was the doleful bell that tolled the death-knell of 
 better and higher things. Its tones suggested 
 the Tomb of Shattered Ideals. Not in one, single 
 vibration was there heard music pitched to the 
 key of salvation for the immortal soul through 
 the Blood shed on the cross! Of a truth, there 
 was nothing in Clinton to indicate that a soul 
 existed in the clay of a Convict. No, no, no, no ! 
 Clinton, with its lean, elongated fingers, beck- 
 oned to all a promise of fellowship of lost souls, 
 harvested as Satan's playthings in an eternity 
 of wailing and gnashing of teeth ! 
 
 The blessed words of Almighty God, as ac- 
 cepted there, were at best, but a feeble pretense, 
 and in reality an open delusion, while prayer was 
 an empty vessel, from which imps merrily quaffed 
 
 82
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 and shouted in ribaldry over the chaos of immor- 
 tal souls! Hypocrisy was rampant, sin stalked 
 in a thin robe of innocence, and the only god that 
 really reigned there was Mammon, whose sway; 
 was imperial through the magic sceptre of gold. 
 
 This word-picture of Clinton had been drawn 
 for me by one whose veracity I accepted without 
 question. Thus vividly enlightened, is it remark- 
 able that I regarded my removal to that Port 
 of Despair with affright? In the light of subse- 
 quent acquaintance with material things there, I 
 fully realized what absolute terror would have 
 been my portion, but for the grace of God which 
 sustained me, and in due season, taught me to be 
 unafraid. 
 
 The weeks I was in Sing Sing, as I have 
 already said, developed one true friend in the 
 person of Chaplain Sanderson.. He had precious 
 little influence there, to be sure, being a good 
 man, and, unfortunately, this was so, for a reason 
 that was proverbial. No really good man has 
 unlimited influence in spiritual affairs in a politi- 
 cal camp. But Chaplain Sanderson did the best 
 he could, and was, in consequence, a spiritual aid 
 to me, who sought no favors of a material kind, 
 nor expected any. He was aware of my intense 
 desire to pay the penalty in full, and often I 
 found great cheer and encouragement in his com- 
 forting words. 
 
 I saw him in the reception room the next day, 
 not long prior to the departure of our gang. 
 
 83
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "Keep up the good fight !" he said, as a fare- 
 well, "and remember, you can't lose with God on 
 your side!" 
 
 The Chaplain if he knew did not say why I 
 was selected for transfer to Clinton, nor did I ask 
 him. I only hoped that what seemed to forecast 
 the worst for me, would ultimately turn out to 
 be the best. At any rate I was determined to 
 intrench myself in the faith, trusting that it might 
 be the latter. 
 
 Handcuffed and chained to a comrade I passed 
 out of the ominous portals of Sing Sing, never to 
 enter them again. A reverse thought did dwell 
 with me for a moment, and I wondered if the 
 "Never to enter them again," might only mean as 
 a criminal. Might it not be my glorious privilege 
 to return some day with a word of hope for these 
 men, tossing in troubled waters without an anchor 
 of faith cast to windward, sufficient to weather 
 them through the breakers of sin? 
 
 Perhaps not, but who, aside from God, could 
 know? 
 
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 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE GRAFTING CHAPLAIN. 
 
 It was before noon when Clinton Prison loomed 
 up dark and forbidding on our horizon. An in- 
 voluntary shudder went through me, however 
 much I had steeled myself against what I knew 
 must come. 
 
 "Well, we 're in for it," commented the Convict 
 at my side. 
 
 "And must make the very best of it," I said, 
 inadvertently picking up his train of thought. 
 
 "The best of it!" he replied, contemptuously. 
 "It 's the worst of it. Say, White I never expect 
 to be nearer hell than that place that is it 
 hell!" 
 
 "You speak so positively," I remarked, half 
 suspecting what he would next say. 
 
 "You 've seen pictures of the devil, and so 
 imagine about what his Satanic Majesty looks 
 like !" stated my companion. "Now I don't have 
 to imagine Clinton is a hell, for I know it I've 
 been there !" 
 
 I had not known it, and in reality I was in no 
 mood to talk. And, I was not accepting the situ- 
 ation as calmly, and heroically, as I had planned. 
 
 "I've never had a good thought since I got out 
 of the place," he continued, "for they made a 
 devil of me ! I feel that I'll kill some one before 
 I get out of it!" 
 
 85
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 I said nothing. It was easy to see that he was 
 in no mood to tolerate curses or kindnesses. Be- 
 sides, I was gloomy enough and found no con- 
 solation in his belligerency. Not long after this 
 we were inside the Prison gate. As my record 
 had preceded me there I felt I was a marked 
 man, and need expect no mercy. Perhaps this 
 sensation was the means of driving me yet closer 
 to the Divine Protector. Be that as it may, I 
 went to sleep on my hard bed soon after night- 
 fall, with an earnest prayer for moral and physical 
 strength to stand the storm. 
 
 The following morning I turned out to a task 
 of odds and ends about the Prison and yard. 
 During the day I saw a man in civilian attire pass 
 through the Prison inclosure and enter one of 
 the shops. His pompous air at once captured my 
 attention. In the bosom of his white shirt front, 
 a diamond solitaire gleamed magnificently and 
 my thoughts placed him among the Prison offi- 
 cials. That he was not the warden I knew, but 
 that he might be an assistant who was excused 
 from wearing the uniform, seemed to be within 
 reason. I asked a Convict who had been in Clin- 
 ton for two or more years to gratify my curiosity. 
 
 "That's the dominie," he asserted. 
 
 "The dominie? Do you mean the Prison 
 Chaplain?" I inquired in amazement 
 
 "He's the guy don't be surprised!" said my 
 informant. 
 
 "But that big diamond I" I exclaimed. 
 
 86
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "Don't you mind him he's queer ! You'll see 
 and hear stranger things than that, if you stay 
 long enough !" 
 
 I could scarcely believe my eyes and ears. So 
 this man, who had the air of a gross politician 
 more than of a minister of the Gospel, was Chap- 
 lain J. E. Metcalf, the counsellor to whom a Con- 
 vict of Clinton must go, should he want spiritual 
 guidance. 
 
 Will it cast a reflection upon my faith in God's 
 promises, if I admit that I was beset with a feel- 
 ing of heaviness? I had so fondly hoped to find 
 a devout Chaplain in Clinton, who would lend 
 me a helping hand over rough places. Now, I 
 could not harmonize my ideal with the coarse, 
 be- jewelled fellow who had just passed before my 
 eyes. But my knowledge of Clinton's Chaplain 
 was not to end yet. 
 
 "It will be a duty well performed," said a 
 Christian man with whom I discussed this Chap- 
 lain in after days, "if you make known to the 
 public, somewhat of the scandalous under-current 
 of Clinton Prison. Tremendous efforts have been 
 put forth by godly men and women, of late years, 
 to reform Convicts in Clinton," he added, "but 
 how can such Christian influences be efficacious 
 among the men, when we have 'whited sepulchres' 
 in the Prison's corps of officials, to minimize 
 every bit of good attempted ? 
 
 "Why," he continued, warming up hugely with 
 righteous indignation, "take Chaplain Metcalf, 
 
 87
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 for instance ! His comings and goings were com- 
 mon gossip, and a scandal among the very men 
 we would rescue from the devil's trap of sin. He 
 was sent there as a protege of a former Prison 
 superintendent. To my certain knowledge he 
 did not go among the prisoners, and, it is a 
 lamentable fact, that pathetic, appealing letters 
 from Convicts seriously ill in the hospital, and 
 desirous of spiritual encouragement, were brutally 
 ignored by him. Why he thus betrayed the in- 
 junctions of the Lord to minister to the spiritu- 
 ally sick, I am unable to surmise. I only know 
 that his neglect in this regard was an open scan- 
 dal among the Convicts. More than one curled 
 his lip in scorn, and pointed out this man as a 
 fine exponent of religious teachings!" 
 
 He paused a moment. 
 
 "It grieves me sorely to say it," this Christian 
 gentleman proceeded, "but something ought to be 
 done quickly, and with as little injury to the 
 cause as possible, to remedy such evil conditions. 
 Not that Chaplain Metcalf was not an eloquent 
 preacher. On the contrary, he was a prince in 
 oratory, but, unfortunately, the neglect of his 
 charges, his swagger, his be-diamonded shirt front 
 and his general reputation, lost him) the respect 
 of those he was presumed to care for with the 
 solicitude of a good and faithful shepherd of 
 the flock !" 
 
 I was not a little impressed by the emphasis 
 with which my friend spoke of the general repu- 
 
 88
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 tation of Chaplain Metcalf, and referred to that 
 part of his statement. 
 
 "It grieves me to tell of his reprehensible con- 
 duct," he continued, "for I can scarcely conceive 
 of a minister of the Gospel being so utterly dis- 
 regardful of the sanctity of the cloth. His char- 
 acter, as known to the Convicts, was of such ex- 
 treme worldliness, and so identified with men 
 and women of questionable repute in the city of 
 Plattsburg, a few miles from Dannemora, as to 
 create contempt for religion in the minds of non- 
 professing Christians. 
 
 "In Clinton it was optional with the inmates 
 whether or not they attended Divine service. To 
 demonstrate to you the effect of the Chaplain's 
 misconduct on these men, I must tell you, that, 
 whereas there was an attendance of more than 
 nine hundred each Sunday at the beginning of 
 his service there was at the close of it not one 
 quarter of the number ! Can you imagine a more 
 terrible rebuke for a minister of the Gospel than 
 that? I certainly can not." 
 
 The period with which this recital has to do 
 was prior to, and included the twenty months I 
 was in Clinton. Some time after my release, the 
 scandal attached to Chaplain Metcalf became 
 so much of a stench in the nostrils of officialdom, 
 that it could be no longer tolerated. Relief came, 
 finally, in his transfer to another Prison. Unless 
 I am in error, it was during Chaplain Metcalf s 
 stay in Clinton that his wife died, and within 
 
 89
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 a year, he was wedded again, the new wife bring- 
 ing him a handsome and, no doubt, acceptable 
 fortune. 
 
 While I was painfully impressed with the 
 knowledge of the Chaplain's betrayal of his 
 Divine commission, it bore me back to the first 
 term I served in Sing Sing. Rev. Dr. Schoon- 
 maker was the Chaplain then, and, like Chaplain 
 Metcalf, left a bad impression among the Con- 
 victs. But he was not guilty, so far as I have 
 been informed, of congregating with unchaste as- 
 sociates. His tendency was irrepressibly toward 
 graft, and the victims of his cupidity, were, nat- 
 urally, the Convicts of his spiritual flock, many of 
 whom found him out to their financial cost. He 
 had a well-defined price for anything he was 
 asked to do. 
 
 At the outset, the favors he obtained for Con- 
 victs were of the perfunctory sort, though politi- 
 cally negotiated. While these, in the main, were 
 small, special privileges, they were, almost in- 
 variably, violations of Prison regulations, and de- 
 cidedly should not have been trafficked in by 
 any one, least of all a clergyman! However, in 
 the beginning the Convicts did not regard his 
 purchased aid with any particular disapproval. 
 As time progressed, his eagerness to acquire gold 
 through this channel, outgrew all bounds of what 
 they termed decency. 
 
 Eventually the Chaplain's appetite for graft 
 became voracious. He would accept it without 
 
 90
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 pretense of giving any value in return. I have 
 no doubt, that, in the beginning, he would have 
 resented the imputation that he was doing wrong 
 in any way. But gradually, step by step, he ad- 
 vanced in the sin, until, at the end, he had com- 
 mitted crimes, which, if discovered and acted 
 upon by the authorities, would have landed him 
 in Prison stripes. 
 
 As an example of the power of habit, and in 
 the hope of drawing attention to many grave evils 
 existing in Prison management to-day, I will 
 relate the story of one Convict's experience with 
 Chaplain Schoonmaker: 
 
 Three hours before a batch of men was to be 
 transferred to Auburn Prison, I met Joe Bain, 
 who was doing a term for a crime committed 
 in New York City, where he lived with his wife 
 and family a better wife, according to this man, 
 a wicked, misguided husband never had. 
 
 "Are you going to be shipped to Auburn?" he 
 asked me in a commiserating tone. 
 
 "No, I am happy to say!" I replied. "Are 
 you?" 
 
 Joe smiled. 
 
 "Thank heaven, no !" he said, with a burst of 
 feeling that told me plainer than words how glad 
 he was. I think he had time only to give vent to 
 this expression of relief, when a messenger has- 
 tened up and said something to him in a subdued 
 voice. My friend's face turned white, as he 
 whirled around to the messenger. 
 
 91
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "Good God !" he exclaimed. "It can't be true! 
 I don't believe it !" 
 
 "But the order for you is to get ready," said 
 the bad news bearer, as he walked rapidly away. 
 Bain turned to me. I looked in his troubled face 
 for an explanation. It came. 
 
 "I'm to go to Auburn," he said. "I can't under- 
 stand it there is some mistake." 
 
 "You 're on the list to go," I said. 
 
 "Yes, I know I was to go, but I fixed it !" 
 
 "You gave up money to some one ?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes to Chaplain Schoonmaker Four Hun- 
 dren Dollars! He wouldn't flimflam me, would 
 he?" 
 
 "Certainly not ! Look him up ! They 've simply 
 neglected to erase your name from the transfer 
 list," I told him, adding, "When does the batch 
 start?" 
 
 "In less than three hours! What'll I do?" 
 
 I advised him to look up the Chaplain. 
 
 "Will you help me?" he asked. I was having 
 the freedom of the Prison just then, and felt dis- 
 posed to assist him out of his predicament. He 
 rushed away, saying he would meet me in the 
 same place in half an hour. I started out for 
 the Chaplain in another direction. We returned 
 as soon as possible. Neither of us could find our 
 man. I was flabbergasted at the result of my 
 hunt, while Bain was in a furious mood. 
 
 "The thief! What do you think of him?" he 
 howled, until I cautioned him. 
 
 92
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "It's a hard thing to believe of him," I said, 
 "for a crook would be square in a deal of this 
 kind." 
 
 "It's plain he's got my Four Hundred, and I've 
 got to go!" Bain said, grinding his teeth sav- 
 agely. "But what will poor Mary think? She 
 worked hard to save that money !" 
 
 Mary was the malefactor's wife. She kept a 
 small boarding house in New York from which 
 she supported herself and the children. The 
 money that Chaplain Schoonmaker had, she'd 
 saved as a fund to provide her husband with 
 small comforts, which she brought to him as 
 often as the Prison rules would permit. With her 
 husband in Auburn, when could she see him? 
 Auburn Prison was nearly three hundred miles 
 further from New York than Sing Sing. 
 
 "I'll get the money back, or kill him!" Bain 
 said to me, just before he left the Prison. Strong 
 man that he was, the tears choked him. And I 
 felt the utmost sympathy for him. He went 
 away to Auburn, where he completed a long term. 
 Circumstances were so ordered that he never met 
 Chaplain Schoonmaker again, nor did he ever see 
 the color of his Four Hundred Dollars. 
 
 Upon making an investigation, with a view of 
 ascertaining where Chaplain Schoonmaker was 
 when Bain left Sing Sing, I found he was at- 
 tending a meeting of an Aid Society conducted 
 in the village of Sing Sing by young women, and 
 that he contributed a few dollars to the cause. 
 
 93
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PETER JAMES AND OTHERS. 
 
 "Fall in fall in! Ready quick! March!" 
 
 Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, 
 tramp, tramp, tramp! 
 
 "Halt lock up!" 
 
 In five minutes I was in my Cell, the great key 
 in the lock turned, and the bolt shot home with a 
 snap that was startling. So far as I could then 
 ascertain, what happened to me, came to every 
 other man in the Prison. What was the portent 
 of this precipitate evacuation of shops, and every 
 near and far corner of the Prison yard, I could 
 not fathom. Not a word had fallen from the lips 
 of the keepers, from the principal down, to solve 
 the mystery. 
 
 We had only marched from the dinner-room 
 to the various stations where our respective duties 
 called us, when the hasty command came that 
 drove us all Cellward. 
 
 I listened intently to catch a word from my 
 adjoining Cellmates, that would throw, even a 
 glimmer of light on a happening that had no 
 equal in my Convict life. 
 
 Every man was silent! 
 
 For once, the code of communication between 
 Cells was impotent, but for what reason I was 
 not able to guess. My evening meal, as usual, 
 and that of every other prisoner for aught I knew, 
 
 94
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 was served in the Cell. When I awoke in the 
 morning the mystery was yet unrevealed. My 
 breakfast was brought to me, and my neighbors 
 were similarly served. 
 
 But at noon the leak came, and like a flash, too. 
 My neighbor to the left got it from his end of 
 the wing. It came, being passed from Cell to 
 Cell, by the Convicts' telegraph, in language 
 something like this : 
 
 "Four men escaped yesterday! None has been 
 captured !" 
 
 That was the message I got, and that was why 
 we had been hurried to our Cells the day before 
 so expeditiously. Beyond the definite informa- 
 tion that four of the men in the Tin shop had 
 escaped, nothing further was learned until after 
 we had passed the fourth day in our Cells. 
 
 On the morning of the sixth day, the old rou- 
 tine was resumed, and we found ourselves picking 
 up the lines of duty we had so suddenly dropped. 
 There was no attempt on the part of the officials 
 to withhold the sequel to the plan of escape. 
 
 "The foxes have been trapped!" was the mes- 
 sage that the keepers spread broadcast among the 
 nine hundred inmates. 
 
 And, it must be so! There was a lesson for 
 the nine hundred to know, and they should be 
 taught it. The lesson was the complete knowl- 
 edge of the futility of trying to escape from Clin- 
 ton Prison. This must be made obvious to all. 
 And here it was the warning : 
 
 95
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "The bloodhounds ran them down trapped 
 them at the threshold of death ! One was shot !" 
 
 "Gone before the Great Judge, unsaved 1" I 
 thought with a pang. Subsequently I gained a 
 brief account of the escape from Peter James, 
 who planned it from the beginning to the end, 
 which came in so lamentable a failure. 
 
 I have not arrogated to myself the high prov- 
 ince of criticising these men. Whether they did 
 right or wrong, is a matter which will have to be 
 settled between them and their Maker. I only 
 know that the disciplinary measures to which 
 Principal Keeper James B. Fulton resorted, upon 
 assuming his office in Clinton, were so unneces- 
 sarily drastic, and so inordinately iniquitous, that 
 many of the inmates were driven to desperation. 
 Even this woeful condition would not impel me to 
 yield up this narrative to the world, so impressed 
 was I with the idea that the unrighteous man 
 should pay the price of his misdoings without 
 complaint, were it not for the fact that Peter 
 James was, and is to-day, innocent of the crime 
 of murder, for which he was imprisoned. 
 
 James was in a lawless gang bent on theft, and 
 the locality of the operation was in Westchester 
 County, New York. He was strictly opposed to 
 the shedding of blood, and at all times avoided 
 conditions having the slightest tendency in that 
 direction. 
 
 It appears that one of the gang was unex- 
 pectedly drawn into a trap, and used his revolver 
 
 96
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 before James could prevent it, or make his way 
 from the scene. To his dismay and horror, he 
 witnessed the shooting. Afterwards, he was ap- 
 prehended and charged with murder. Though 
 possessed of a full knowledge of the facts he 
 would not betray his pal, or furnish any informa- 
 tion as to the latter's whereabouts. 
 
 The outcome of this "honor among thieves" 
 was the conviction of James of murder in the 
 second degree, and, straightway, he began a life 
 sentence. 
 
 Principal Keeper Fulton, a native of Napa- 
 nock, N. Y., came to Clinton, not long prior to 
 the expiration of my term in the fall of 1903. He 
 succeeded Elijah Vogan, who was deposed for 
 being too lenient with the prisoners. In other 
 words, Vogan was truly humane in his treatment 
 of the men, some of whom, no doubt', took advan- 
 tage of it. When Fulton came he openly boasted 
 of what he would do in the way of maintaining 
 discipline. He strutted about the Prison in a 
 lordly manner. The Convicts said the principal 
 keeper was infected with a microbe which they 
 facetiously labelled "ego." His bearing inter- 
 preted anything but dignity. In short, he created 
 for himself the dual characterization of "mar- 
 tinet" and "fool." He was hated and laughed at 
 in a breath. For a slight infraction of a Prison 
 rule that, ordinarily, would invite an addition of 
 three days to the victim's term, he would name 
 a penalty, ranging from sixty to ninety days. 
 
 97
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 And now back to Peter James. He was an 
 exemplary prisoner so far as his general con- 
 duct was concerned. Through exigencies, of 
 which he was unable to obtain a clear under- 
 standing, however, he fell under Fulton's keenest 
 displeasure. Inasmuch as it was impossible to 
 lengthen the incarceration of James, by adding 
 more days for him to serve, many other forms 
 of punishment were inflicted on him. Not in- 
 frequently these were exceedingly petty and, 
 in their very nature, exposed the innate meanness 
 of Fulton. Several Convicts in the Tin shop 
 where James was the engineer, and with whom 
 he was on excellent terms, also became special 
 targets at which the principal keeper aimed his 
 battery of persecutions. 
 
 The fact that James, an innocent man, was 
 doomed, in all probability, to remain in Prison 
 for the remainder of his life, tended to embitter 
 him not a little. This, plus his trials at the hands 
 of the unprincipled Fulton, could have no other, 
 natural effect, than to force him into a state of 
 desperation. If the two causes specified were 
 insufficient to produce this climax, then all that 
 was needed to bring it about, was Fulton's harsh 
 treatment of James' friends. 
 
 At any rate Fulton's oppressive reign had 
 existed but a short time, when James and his 
 cronies decided to make a "break," or rather 
 "dig," or perhaps both, for liberty. 
 
 As engineer in the Tin shop he had more or 
 
 98
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 less freedom about it. Frequently he was obliged 
 to visit the cellar of the shop for the purpose 
 of tinkering with steam and water pipes there. 
 Three of his pals, two of whom had suffered at 
 the instance of Fulton, were employed in the 
 yard, and often stole away in the cellar for a 
 half hour's rest, or to take a few secret whiffs 
 of tobacco from their pipes. 
 
 James decided that it would be a sure route 
 to liberty, if a tunnel were dug from the cellar 
 to the sewer that discharged in a small river not 
 very far from the outside wall of the Prison. So 
 the quartette went to work, and within two weeks 
 had scooped out a tunnel forty-five feet long, 
 through which they would be able to reach the 
 sewer. 
 
 All agreed that the underground journey would 
 be extremely hazardous, owing to the irregularity 
 of the "worm hole," as James called it. In digging 
 it, rocks had to be circuited, and other difficulties 
 only partially surmounted. Even at this dan- 
 gerous stage, the outlet must do, for time was 
 getting precious, and the chances of discovery 
 increased many fold each day. When all was 
 in readiness they started, James heading into 
 the bore first. 
 
 "Big Fred," long and beefy, was the fourth one 
 to angle his way through the uncomfortable exit. 
 While he was en route, James and the others 
 crouched along the river bank and waited. About 
 five minutes had been the average time for each 
 
 99
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 of the others to make the trip, but, as near as 
 James could reckon, fifteen had passed, and "Big 
 Fred" had not appeared at the mouth of the tun- 
 nel. This seemed to indicate extreme danger, 
 and James said he would do a little scouting to 
 see what was amiss with the big fellow. There 
 was "Big Fred," lodged in the tunnel, ten feet 
 from its mouth, like a wad in the bore of a shot- 
 gun. James crawled in, and succeeded in draw- 
 ing him out. 
 
 With their Prison uniforms showing wrong 
 side out, and also well smeared with earth, the 
 party separated, and made a dash across the coun- 
 try to a railroad nearby. The plan was to keep 
 within seeing distance of this road, moving par- 
 allel with it toward New York City, traveling by 
 night, and sleeping in the day-time except when 
 it was necessary to do cautious foraging. 
 
 I don't remember how long they had been 
 gone when the alarm was sounded in the Prison, 
 and we inside, full of mystery, as I have said, 
 were hustled in our Cells. The much-vaunted 
 principal keeper, Fulton, was at first thoroughly 
 panic-stricken. Then, instead of being the calm, 
 forceful leader, he became the hot-headed incom- 
 petent his enimies said he was. I would not gain- 
 say the assertion that his lack of initiative in the 
 exigency, was the primary cause of an almost 
 unheard-of activity at Albany. 
 
 C. V. Collins was State Superintendent of 
 Prisons then, and on hearing of the quartette's 
 
 100
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 escape, put the right kind of energy, backed by 
 brainy direction, in the search for the fugitives. 
 In the first three days, two of them were cap- 
 tured, leaving Peter James and "Big Fred" still 
 at liberty. On the night of the fifth day "Big 
 Fred" was brought in with an ugly bullet wound 
 in one of his legs, but not dead, as we had been 
 led to believe. James was supported in next, 
 fagged out for the want of food. He had put 
 up a desperate fight, and only surrendered when 
 he fell wounded. 
 
 I gathered that Superintendent Collins had a 
 soft spot in his heart for a Convict in distress, and 
 so Principal Keeper Fulton must have found out, 
 if his wits were sharp enough. The superin- 
 tendent looked over James and "Big Fred" for a 
 moment, and then said to Fulton : 
 
 "In my opinion these poor wretches have been 
 punished enough!" 
 
 The superintendent's opinion proved to be an 
 executive command, for James and "Big Fred" 
 received no added penalty for trying to steal their 
 liberty. Perhaps Superintendent Collins obtained 
 a lot of valuable information about the manage- 
 ment of Clinton Prison on that visit, for not long 
 afterward, Principal Keeper Fulton was removed, 
 and Elijah Vogan was reinstated. 
 
 Not many months later Fulton was seized with 
 a fatal illness. I have never learned whether or 
 not he died a Christian, but I sincerely hope he 
 made his peace with God ! 
 
 101
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ALWAYS TO ME THE "LITTLE MOTHER/' 
 
 I saw the "Little Mother" Mrs. Maud Bal- 
 lington Booth yesterday. 
 
 This affectionate term best describes her, for 
 she is to the infant in Christianity what the 
 mother is to the lisping babe, whose eyes have 
 opened for the first time upon a new and strange 
 habitation. 
 
 The "Little Mother" is soothing to the troubled 
 spirit. Her illuminated presence communes in a 
 language that is universal, and to which the ears 
 of all seekers after good, are perfectly attuned. 
 The beauty and purity of her soul, are reflected in 
 her face, as by a flawless mirror. Before her lips 
 sound the words that uplift, confidence has been 
 established in the inquiring one, never to be found 
 wavering. And she is, and ever will be to me, 
 nothing more or nothing less than "Little 
 Mother !" 
 
 It was good news forsooth when the announce- 
 ment was made on Saturday that Mrs. Booth 
 would be in the chapel on Sunday afternoon, and 
 speak to the prisoners. I don't think there was 
 a man with strength enough to walk from his Cell 
 or sick bed in the hospital, who was not ready, 
 and anxious to be in the chapel at the appointed 
 hour. As for myself, I know that no one had a 
 
 102
 
 PACK BROS. PHOTO. 
 
 Mrs. Maud Ballington Booth, the " Little Mother"
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 keener desire to be there. Fortunately, I was 
 able to occupy a seat close to the platform, where 
 I could drink in the truths which the "Little 
 Mother" told in her simple but rhythmic words, 
 that flowed with the strength and certainty of a 
 deep, peacefully moving river. I would not 
 correctly interpret her words in characterizing 
 them a sermon. She just talked, and in doing so, 
 said something! When she finished, the most 
 illiterate Convict there knew what had been said, 
 and no questions need be asked. 
 
 "The life of a criminal does n't pay it is a 
 waste of precious time !" said the "Little Mother," 
 and every one of us knew it was true, and, what 
 is more, she told us that common sense taught 
 her that we had proved it to our undoing. 
 
 "Now the thing to do, is to put an end to time 
 wasting!" she went on, "and I am here to help 
 you do it, if you'll buckle in and help yourselves ! 
 In the first place the Door of Hope is always wide 
 open for any one who will enter. Christ is the 
 Open Door, and I need not repeat the old, old, 
 old, but welcome story, that, while the lamp of 
 hope burns and that means while reason exists 
 in man the vilest sinner the world possesses, 
 may find admission through it. 
 
 "Some of you, my dear boys, may be thinking 
 that these are fine words of help-offering to such 
 sinners as have never been in Prison, and have 
 not to bear the stigma of "ex-Convict," and all 
 that that handicap means, when seeking honest 
 
 103
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 employment. But I say to such a thinker, that 
 my message is for you, and will be to the end! 
 Therefore, I invite you to enter this Door of 
 Hope to a better life, and don't turn back ! Hav- 
 ing once entered, I declare to you, the worst man 
 here, that there is no need to retrace your steps, 
 and, doubting one. I speak with the authority of a 
 volunteer of the Volunteers of America, who are 
 enlisted in the service of the Lord, when I say it. 
 You must get out of the rut in which you are 
 now so painfully and hopelessly plodding get 
 out of the ways of evil, forsake your sins, and 
 trust Jesus to do the rest !" 
 
 The "Little Mother" paused for an instant, and 
 then asked if any one was interested enough in 
 her words to help himself, and if so would such 
 an one stand up? I was on my feet without a 
 moment's hesitation, and in all parts of the chapel, 
 to the right, the left, and the rear { I knew that 
 men were signifying their willingness to seek the 
 better life through the open Door of Hope. 
 
 "Praise be unto the Lord, my earnest friends !" 
 came from Mrs. Booth with a fervency that be- 
 tokened her interest in the souls of her auditors. 
 "And now will you be seated," she asked, "while 
 I tell you what to do?" When the room was in 
 silence, she explained her practical plan of salva- 
 tion. 
 
 "I know that the road of the men, on leaving 
 this, or any other institution of its kind, is hard," 
 she said, "but there is a way to make it less 
 
 104
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 hard, if you will only try, and having tried, will 
 daily and hourly persevere keep hewing to the 
 line! If you will do this, I will stand by you 
 through thick and thin, foul weather or fair. 
 To begin with, I want you to give your hearts to 
 Jesus. Then I want you to promise me you will 
 come to our Hope Hall at Flushing, N. Y. I 
 mean that you are requested to come there directly 
 from this Prison, and remain with us until such 
 a time as you are equipped for the fight that will 
 make good, law-abiding men and Christians of 
 you. 
 
 "If you will do your part, I promise that we 
 will do our very best in the name of the blessed 
 Saviour, to save your souls, and put you in the 
 way of earning an upright, honest livelihood !" 
 
 "But the police, Mrs Booth." said a little, bent, 
 gray-haired Convict, rising to his feet; "they 
 won't permit me to live an honest life, particularly 
 in the city of New York !" 
 
 "In the protection of Hope Hall the police will 
 not interfere with you, my friendly one," said 
 Mrs. Booth. "I'll stand by you! All you will 
 have to do, is to hew to the line ! So long as you 
 do that, I'll see that the police don't molest you !" 
 
 "I'd like to come to the home, ma'am," said 
 the little old man. "Is there room for me? It's 
 ten years since I've been out in the world !" 
 
 "God bless you, my brother yes, we have a 
 place just cut out for you, and none will be more 
 welcome, believe me." 
 
 105
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "Thank you, thank you, ma'am," he said, in a 
 voice that trembled with emotion. 
 
 "Bless this poor old soul, and comfort him, my 
 Saviour," prayed Mrs. Booth, as we all bowed 
 our heads. "Bless all these unfortunate ones, 
 and make them the good men they may be, if they 
 will only trust in Thee!" 
 
 This petition had scarcely ascended from her 
 quivering lips, when she was leading us in a 
 Gospel song pitched to a tune with which many 
 of the prisoners seemed remarkably familiar. The 
 melody died away, and then Mrs. Booth closed 
 the service by reiterating her invitation to all to 
 visit her Volunteer Home immediately after 
 being discharged from Prison. 
 
 Needing every aid in fighting the Christian 
 battle, I arose before the command was given by 
 the guards to form for the march back to the 
 Cells. Mrs. Booth saw me. 
 
 "Speak out, my brother !" she said with a glad 
 smile that gave me a world of confidence. 
 
 "I shall be discharged in two months, and 
 would like to be helped in my effort to follow 
 Christ," I explained hesitatingly, and consider- 
 ably perturbed too, for one who had been thor- 
 oughly self-possessed in secular affairs. 
 
 "I think your good Chaplain will make it pos- 
 sible for you to speak with me in the waiting- 
 room, before I leave Clinton," said Mrs. Booth in 
 her kindest manner. And I did have the ineffable 
 delight of shaking the hand of this charming 
 
 106
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 woman this "Little Mother" to the younglings 
 in the espousal of Christianity. 
 
 She impressed me as being one constantly hov- 
 ering in an atmosphere breathing forth pure sim- 
 plicity and simple piety. Her presence was so 
 strangely and powerfully magnetic as to draw 
 me irresistibly toward her, yet, withal, I seemed 
 not to be in a world identical with hers. There 
 was that in her gracious personality which almost 
 interpreted Divinity, although, as I have just said, 
 she was only Mrs. Maud Ballington Booth, the 
 "Little Mother" of the children newly born into 
 the Kingdom of Righteousness. 
 
 "I shall feel that my meeting in Qinton has not 
 been in vain," she said, "if you can make it con- 
 venient to come and see us at our Flushing home. 
 There are at least two dozen of the boys there 
 now, and they are preparing for a fresh start in 
 the world, along the pathway that leads to the 
 better life, both on earth and in Heaven. Will 
 you not come down as soon as your term ex- 
 pires ?" 
 
 "I have one appointment in New York to 
 keep," I explained, "and then, believe rrie, I shall 
 come to your retreat the Convicts' haven and 
 try to grow stronger in the honest life !" 
 
 "Many good resolutions have been broken by 
 procrastination!" Mrs. Booth urged, in a tone 
 that fused with concern. 
 
 "I am goii "Mrs. Booth, to see Mr. Hadley, 
 who did more to switch rrie from the broad road 
 
 107
 
 Penalty and. Redemption 
 
 of crime, to the narrow way that leads to life 
 eternal, than any one else on earth!" 
 
 "Mr. Hadley!" she exclaimed, joyfully; "you 
 mean Samuel Hopkins Hadley, that splendid 
 Christian of the McAuley Mission?" 
 
 "None other, Mrs. Booth !" and I related briefly 
 the story of my conversion, especially the portion 
 of it which occurred in the New York Police 
 Station. 
 
 "Praise the Lord, Mr. White!" Mrs. Booth 
 cried ecstatically, and there was a world of 
 thanksgiving in her exclamation. And so, in the 
 grand personality of Mrs. Booth, God raised up 
 for me another mighty arm to guide me in the 
 straight and narrow way. 
 
 108
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 GOD'S LIGHT ATHWART THE GLOOM. 
 
 The beginning of my stay in Clinton bade fair 
 to be all that had been said of it, and therefore 
 I bent doggedly to the task of accepting antici- 
 pated hardships. I was firmly resolved to pay 
 the penalty for my crimes, deeming it to be but 
 a part of required repentance for a life wasted in 
 the devil's employ. 
 
 This set purpose soon brought me great reward, 
 and more deeply intrenched me in the faith. In- 
 stead of having to bear burdens which I had 
 feared might overwhelm me, a new, unexpected 
 and wholly undeserved vista was opened to me. 
 It was devoid of persecution, free from obstacles 
 that would make the pursuit of the Christian 
 pathway more difficult, and replete with oppor- 
 tunities to form plans which I hoped to develop 
 at the expiration of my term. It created another 
 true friend, of whom I had never heard or 
 dreamed, and in an astonishing measure showed 
 me how the Lord pours out blessings upon His 
 toilers in the vineyard, who are determined to be 
 faithful regardless of what threatens. 
 
 This new friend was Julius B. Ransom, Clin- 
 ton's Surgeon. He was an agreeable exception in 
 the ranks of Prison physicians, both in character 
 and intelligence. Not only was his standing in 
 
 109
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 the profession unassailable, but he was also pos- 
 sessed of large sympathy for his immediate fel- 
 low-men, though most of these were Convicts. 
 And, above all, he was not a grafter! I felt, in 
 truth, that God had directed me to him, but in 
 what manner I was never able to find out. At the 
 time, and since, I have meditated whether or not 
 Chaplain Sanderson of Sing Sing, being cogni- 
 zant of my Christian fight, was not the agency 
 through which God worked to draw me to Dr. 
 Ransom. 
 
 At any rate, the good doctor gave me excellent 
 counsel, thereby prescribing for my soul, as well 
 as for my body. Recognizing my years, he said 
 I ought not to do heavy work. He told Warden 
 George Deyo so, and I did no very laborious 
 tasks thereafter. My employment was truly 
 light and as pleasant as it could be in penal 
 surroundings. Altogether, my daily life was 
 much more bearable than that of the few inmates 
 who managed to escape the routine of Clinton, 
 through the payment of money, and political 
 favoritism. And let me not fail to give God the 
 praise, for to Him, Who raised up these friends, 
 I owe it all. 
 
 Dr. Ransom assisted me royally, in various 
 ways. In Sing Sing I was unable to obtain sta- 
 tionery to make memoranda for the proposed 
 chronicle of my life. My application for writing 
 paper elicited the unpleasant rejoinder, which 
 included a positive denial, "Don't think this 
 
 110
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 Prison is a hotel!" But I had no difficulty in 
 procuring these needed materials at Clinton. So, 
 not long subsequent to settling in the new quar- 
 ters, every available, leisure moment, was em- 
 ployed in the preparatory work of my book. Un- 
 questionably, it was no trivial undertaking, and 
 frequently I was confused as to what would best 
 serve my purpose. 
 
 Barring extremely rare instances, perhaps no 
 modern writer has had more interesting adven- 
 tures to weave into narrative than I. My forty 
 years of experience in crime and its varied envi- 
 ronment had sunk a well of recollections well-nigh 
 inexhaustible, and not infrequently, I was about 
 distraught over what would best fit a work de- 
 signed to confer everlasting benefit upon society. 
 
 A particular thing which impressed itself upon 
 me, had to do with the administrative conditions, 
 as a whole, in the New York State Prisons. A 
 subdivision of this was Prison discipline. I be- 
 lieved it to be within bounds of reason for Con- 
 victs to have incentives for reform. Also, I 
 realized that such incentives could not exist unless 
 the administrators in charge of the various penal 
 institutions set good examples before the Con- 
 victs. 
 
 For instance, it will not tend to correct the 
 lives of criminals for them to know that the war- 
 den in charge of them, appropriates from the 
 State's funds two hundred dollars a month to 
 provide food for his family; one hundred in the 
 
 111
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 same period for serving girls, coachmen and foot- 
 men, and maintains, at the State's expense, green- 
 houses, coach horses, cows, sheep, and other live 
 stock, for his sole use and benefit. Neither will 
 it win Convicts from their evil tendencies, to 
 know that the warden closes his eyes, while his 
 subordinate officials steal right and left, such com- 
 modities as clothing, shoes, Prison blanket's, lum- 
 ber, and, in fact, about everything that can be 
 carried out of a State institution. 
 
 I have certain knowledge that these conditions 
 existed in 1903, and information of recent date 
 does not disclose any marked improvement. If 
 there be doubtful ones, I would suggest that 
 they examine the monthly Prison bills in the office 
 of the State Comptroller. Having done this, I 
 would further advise that a personal visit be paid 
 to the Prisons, especially Clinton, and that ob- 
 servation be taken of the kind of food served to 
 the Convicts, also an examination be made of the 
 clothing and shoes they wear. Be certain not to 
 confine this investigation to the Convicts who 
 enjoy graft-attained privileges. They will be 
 found sleek, well-supplied with good, nourishing 
 food, comfortably clothed, and well-shod. 
 
 And, regarding brutality! This practice in 
 penal institutions, does much to harden criminals 
 beyond all hope of reclamation. I have known 
 of instances in which five or six Convicts have 
 been strung up by the thumbs at the same time, 
 for infractions of Prison rules, and, I declare in 
 
 112
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 calmness, and without prejudice it would be sim- 
 ply barbarous in the present human age. 
 
 Convicts have been flogged with clubs, until 
 their agony would wrench the heart-strings of 
 the ordinary man, and kindle the fires of revenge 
 in the victims. The echoes of the cruel blows 
 have not ceased to vibrate in my memory ! 
 
 Perhaps it would enlighten those interested in 
 this subject, to read the report made by an Inves- 
 tigating Committee which inquired into the con- 
 duct of Warden Isaac Fuller, and his subordi- 
 nates, Principal Keeper James Moon, and Under 
 Keeper Michael Haggerty, all of Clinton Prison. 
 Let me record that the latter's death was not soon 
 to be forgotten by those at his bedside. His 
 delirium assumed an awful panorama of victims 
 of his cruelty who marched before him with 
 accusing fingers. The torture he seemed to suf- 
 fer, was appalling! If he had a lucid moment 
 in which to realize an iota of what was indicated 
 in his delirium, his suffering must have been far 
 greater than that of his victims. James Moon is 
 yet alive, and in comparative affluence, on a farm 
 in the Adirondack Mountains in New York State. 
 
 It was this character of history I had in mind 
 to write, believing, as I have already made clear, 
 that society would be the better for it. But, 
 taking the matter under advisement, I decided to 
 defer it' to a later day, substituting therefor, the 
 facts related in the covers of " From Boniface to 
 Bank Burglar." 
 
 113
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 It may not be lacking in interest to mention 
 here, that I completed the manuscript of my first 
 book under most irritating conditions. In some 
 manner what I was doing became known, and 
 several attempts were made by officials to con- 
 fiscate the manuscript. However, these came 
 after I had finished the work and carefully 
 secreted it outside of my Cell. I would not have 
 felt justified in pursuing this course had I not 
 been advised to by certain sympathetic friends 
 who were not among the Convict population of 
 the Prison. Anticipating difficulty and to avoid 
 confiscation of the manuscript, I made painstak- 
 ing arrangements with an official to pass it over 
 the wall on the night following my release from 
 Convict life. 
 
 114
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 SKELLY JUST PLAIN SKELLY. 
 
 "Free at last !" was the exhalation of my spirit, 
 when the great gate of Clinton swung to with 
 a harsh clang that had no further terror in it for 
 me. 
 
 Free, free, free! once more from the restraint 
 of bolts and bars, from the badge of the criminal, 
 indicated in the horribly suggestive Prison garb, 
 and, thanks be to God, free from the bondage 
 wherein lay but limited opportunity for me to 
 tell my fellowman what religion had done for me. 
 
 Free again from an enforced exile of the body, 
 as I felt I was free forever from the successful 
 assaults of the unscrupulous cohorts of sin! 
 
 My heart, in its bubbling joy, sang a new song, 
 a pean of praise, so wonderfully attuned that all 
 nature rang for me a new translation of sound. 
 This great world I was looking on again, was 
 one magnificent burst of inspiring melody. My 
 time-worn and misused old eyes drank in with 
 ravishing eagerness, what lay before them. I 
 thought there never had been before me so lovely 
 a world! The grass at my feet possessed a 
 richer green, and the trees, nodding gracefully 
 above me, were clothed in a more elaborate dress, 
 though the year was fast fading into autumn and 
 the harvest time. The dullest, and least attrac- 
 
 115
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 tive object to meet my gaze, held an interest 
 heretofore unknown to me. 
 
 But there was no secret, unrevealed to me, in 
 all this. I knew the reason for so vast a change 
 in my conception of things God was in my soul, 
 divinely harmonizing it with all things good on 
 the earth! He tuned my neglected, unreceptive 
 ears, so that they vibrated to melody, hitherto far 
 too rich in sweetness of tone for them to catch 
 and comprehend. In brief, my combined senses 
 had come to an acute plane of responsiveness to 
 Divine attributes, and I was enabled thereby to 
 perceive the beauty, the righteousness in things 
 that had ever before been an unopened page to 
 me. 
 
 As I strode away from the Prison, I gloried 
 in the knowledge of a living God Whose power 
 had been sufficient to save me from a life which 
 had long reflected the wickedness of hell. My 
 heart was buoyant aye, jubilant, in the posses- 
 sion of a freedom from desire to do wrong, and 
 enthusiastic in God's plan of regeneration, which 
 included me in it. Yes, for even me, there was 
 in prospect an eternity of peace and rest, if I 
 proved faithful to Him, and relied upon the 
 Divine Force which rules the universe and every- 
 thing contained therein. 
 
 With what elasticity of body I moved out in 
 the goodly world, only those who have trod in 
 similar footsteps may be competent to judge. 
 And as I walked and contemplated my new posi- 
 
 116
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 tion in life, viewing it in vivid contrast with 
 other days, the tears welled up in my eyes, and a 
 violent sob was stifled with no small effort. But 
 they were expressive of a contrite soul, joyous in 
 the sweet assurance that vouchsafed for me a 
 place in the Community of the Good ! 
 
 I was to be back at the Prison early in the 
 evening of the same day, to get my manuscript, 
 which was to be thrown over the wall by my 
 friend in fulfilment of his promise. Now the 
 manner of doing this, as I have heretofore indi- 
 cated, was exceedingly distasteful to me. I felt 
 that every act in my life, henceforth, must be 
 done in the open, and distinctly separate from 
 anything which approached even the appearance 
 of evil. But there was no other way to obtain 
 the manuscript, therefore I believed that the 
 object to be attained in this case would justify 
 the means. A comparatively short ride on a 
 railroad train put me in Plattsburg, where I re- 
 mained until it was time to return to Dannemora 
 in the evening. 
 
 The hour of my appointment on the outside of 
 the wall was 10.25 o'clock, and as for the night, it 
 was black black enough for any evil purpose, 
 goodness knows. When 10.30 came and there 
 was no indication of getting the manuscript, I be- 
 gan to feel as though my plan was lacking God's 
 approval. But this rather unpleasant meditation 
 was knocked out of my mind the next instant, by 
 a glancing blow on the left side of my head, and a 
 
 117
 
 Penalty ancl Redemption 
 
 direct one on the shoulder, from which I stag- 
 gered, and would have fallen, but for the support 
 of the Prison wall, against which I heavily rested. 
 
 For a moment I was not only deprived of my 
 wits, but I was, as well, not a little frightened, 
 believing that I had been welted with a heavy 
 club. Upon pulling myself together, I could just 
 distinguish a white parcel lying at my feet. I at 
 once knew it was the precious manuscript! I 
 picked it up, and, behold! a jagged stone, weigh- 
 ing not less than ten pounds, was fastened to it. 
 
 "Of a truth," I thought cheerfully, "this good 
 friend of mine concluded that my writings were 
 of an exceedingly vaporous nature, else why had 
 he thus carefully provided against their being 
 wafted away in space, by some vagrant breeze? 
 Or, on the contrary, had he justly recognized the 
 weightiness of them, and, burning with the in- 
 spiration, added his mite to the good work in the 
 form of this substantial avoirdupois?" 
 
 If, perchance, these conjectures were not suf- 
 ficient, may he not have arisen to the magnifi- 
 cent height of testing the axiom that "Truth 
 crushed shall rise again," when he dropped the 
 weighted package on my head? These, and other 
 equally happy thoughts, thrilled m<e to completion, 
 causing a momentary abstraction from the tender- 
 ness of my flesh, which had been most sorely 
 bruised by the stone. But, seriously, I hoped and 
 prayed that the words I had penned for the 
 guidance of men, deep in sin as I once was, 
 
 118
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 would awaken them to a realization of their spir- 
 itual needs, and with a force, too, that would be 
 as beneficial to them, as it was startling to me ! 
 
 Completely happy, I started on foot for Platts- 
 burg, seventeen miles away, for walk there 1 
 must, no trains going that way at so late an hour 
 of the night. But the journey was astonishingly 
 short, and remarkably unexacting upon my 
 strength, so marvelous, in fact, is the power of 
 mind over matter. 
 
 The next day I was in New York City, and, 
 happy thought, the following one would witness 
 me once more clasping glad hands with my be- 
 loved Mr. Hadley. 
 
 And when the meeting came, it was even more 
 cordial than I had dared to anticipate. He sat in 
 the very same chair, and I on the identical sofa 
 in the office where his burning words had so sunk 
 into my soul. 
 
 Somehow, those pieces of furniture the chair 
 and sofa are recognized factors in my conver- 
 sion, and I fain would possess them, when worn 
 beyond usefulness in the parts they fill at the 
 McAuley Mission. Strange indeed is the senti- 
 ment that will possess one one, for instance, 
 like me, whose deeds have been so infamous, and 
 so impossible of forgiveness, except at the hands 
 of Divine mercy. 
 
 "Trust not your own strength for an instant!" 
 Mr. Hadley said to me, as we chatted over my 
 conversion, and in which connection I had stoutly 
 
 119
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 declared the improbability, nay, impossibility, of 
 ever receding from the faith. "Nevertheless, my 
 dear fellow, my good comrade in Christ, you must 
 beware of your own strength, unsupported by His 
 great right arm. Take heed, dear brother, where 
 you stand, for the way is set with many snares, 
 and the devil and his emissaries are as wary as 
 they are cunning and secret." 
 
 I told Mr. Hadley of the early appointment I 
 had to temporarily join Mrs. Booth's Flushing 
 Colony. 
 
 "By all means go there," he acquiesced, "and 
 when it is possible, come back here, for there 
 always will be a welcome awaiting you." 
 
 We clasped hands again like brothers of the 
 same parents, it seemed to me not as men who 
 had once been crooks and drunkards, but: ulti- 
 mately saved by the same blood sacrifice. 
 
 "Good-bye, George, and may the grace of the 
 Lord Jesus Christ go with you," he said solemnly. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mr. Hadley," I answered thickly, 
 and hurried away. 
 
 Two hours later I was knocking at the door of 
 Mrs. Booth's hospitable roof, and was agreeably 
 surprised at the almost elegance of the mansion. 
 I learned subsequently, that it had been the dwell- 
 ing of a man possessed of great wealth, and had 
 come into the keeping of Mrs. Booth for the 
 purpose to which she had dedicated it. 
 
 A hasty glance swept in a spread of gardens 
 and farm land, besides an acre or two reserved for 
 
 120
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 lounging spots and cosy corners much needed by 
 the guests of our "Little Mother." Altogether, 
 I was exceedingly impressed with the genial and 
 inviting aspect of the house and its surroundings. 
 
 My confident knock was answered by a man 
 who appeared to be remarkably in unison with 
 these first impressions. Intuitively he knew, in 
 a general way, the quality and object of his vis- 
 itor, and in evidence of this, flung the door wide 
 open. 
 
 "Come in we are glad to see you!" he wel- 
 comed, putting me perfectly at ease by the gen- 
 uineness of the greeting. 
 
 "Your name is " he asked with a smile that 
 carried the inquiry. 
 
 "George White!" I answered. 
 
 "Not George Bliss, George Miles, Mark Shin- 
 burn's friend?" he questioned, with increasing 
 interest. I bowed in acknowledgment of the 
 identification, feeling none too proud of it. In 
 the interim we had proceeded to a homelike recep- 
 tion room where my new friend bade me be 
 seated. 
 
 "I'm Skelly just plain Skelly!" he explained, 
 "but I hope counted among the redeemed ones 
 from sin!" 
 
 "You, too, have known what it is to pay the 
 penalty?" I inquired. 
 
 "A bitter price it was," he cried with a vehe- 
 mence that astounded me. 
 
 "But the blood of Jesus Christ has covered all 
 
 121
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 is it not so ?" I asked quickly, grieved over the 
 possibility of having awakened memories that 
 harried him. He grasped the tenor of my 
 thoughts, and hastened to put me at rest. 
 
 "Don't be troubled, dear friend," this Skelly 
 just plain Skelly said. "None of the old things 
 have power to move me. I wish to blot out the 
 past spent in the devil's pastime, but I am not 
 affrighted when it rises up before me. The dear 
 Christ is my great defender, and He never fails 
 me. 
 
 "But come with me," he exclaimed, breaking 
 into another mood, in which there was a mingling 
 of cheer and concern. "You haven't had your 
 dinner, I know." 
 
 So this was Skelly just plain Skelly. I knew 
 who he was, and where he came from, and that 
 he was Mrs. Booth's faithful ally in the conduct 
 of her haven. When she was not present to 
 direct the affairs there, he was in full charge, 
 never failing to perform his part in the Master's 
 vineyard. He took me to a bathroom complete in 
 the minutest detail. 
 
 "Refresh yourself here!" he said, "and when 
 you have finished, dinner will be served. "Re- 
 member," he added before departing, "that this is 
 home until you have shaken off the atmosphere 
 of Prison, and pulled yourself together." 
 
 I had a delicious bath, and with a sensation 
 of renewed, physical being, went to the dining- 
 room where I sat at the table with a group of 
 
 122
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 men, who appeared to be partaking of a new 
 phase of life. It would be futile for me to attempt 
 to express in words the lasting benefit afforded 
 these men and me by the whole administration 
 of Mrs. Booth's way-station on the road to a 
 better life. My spiritual self was encouraged, 
 my physical being reinvigorated, and, all in all, 
 the two weeks of sojourn there, proved to be 
 invaluable as a stepping-stone in the narrow way 
 of rectitude in which I was determined to tread, 
 regardless of how thickly it might be set with 
 traps of the enemy. 
 
 Skelly, who answered my knock at the door 
 when the visit began, was the same kind Skelly 
 who bade me au revoir at the leave-taking. He 
 seemed to be, in every way, worthy of the confi- 
 dence Mrs. Booth reposed in him. Owing to the 
 manifold duties of the "Little Mother," her ap- 
 pearance at the home was not as frequent as her 
 guests hoped for, but she spoke through Skelly. 
 He interpreted the language of hope to the weary, 
 and sometimes uncertain one, and in every way 
 enacted the rQle of the good Samaritan. He 
 possessed the brother-love that made all with 
 whom he came in contact, feel that kinship so 
 essential to those laboring side by side in the 
 Vineyard of the Lord. 
 
 And it must not be gathered that Skelly camte 
 in this godly realm of usefulness, as an early 
 avower of Christianity. Quite the reverse! He 
 had plowed long in the field of sin, and sown 
 
 123
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 tares almost to the choking of the very best in 
 him. He had known the pain of being a thief, 
 suffered the stigma of occupying the felon's Cell, 
 and experienced the joy of casting all his sins on 
 the Lord to the salvation of his soul. Therefore, 
 the better was Skelly qualified to speak to fellows 
 of a kind of which he was once one. 
 
 He taught as one who had acquired the knowl- 
 edge through bitter experience. The pitfalls they 
 would meet with, he knew of, for his feet had 
 been, unwarily, caught in them. The sorrows 
 and disappointments which they might encounter, 
 he could tell them of, because he had been 
 afflicted with them. To know Skelly was to 
 draw inspiration from him, and as it was my 
 blessed privilege to study him with the fervor 
 that I delved into all things appertaining to the 
 Christian life, I left the home with the complete 
 knowledge that I had been in the fellowship of a 
 wonderful man. 
 
 No one possessed of a spark of religion, or of 
 a desire to lead an honest life, ever left there 
 under Skelly's ministrations feeling that he had 
 been denied good food for his stomach, had been 
 asked to labor in the harvest fields or the grounds, 
 beyond what was required to take away the 
 sting of charity, or had been deprived of the 
 spiritual consolation that weak humanity so much 
 needs. 
 
 It was not my privilege to often meet this noble 
 Christian, but his example ever shone forth as a 
 
 124
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 beacon-light, by which I have directed my course, 
 much as the mariner keeps his ship off the 
 breakers by the warning lighthouse on the rock- 
 bound shore. 
 
 Let it be said again and again, that Mrs. 
 Booth's Hope Hall has been well named. Hope 
 beamed its welcome presence to me every- 
 where in every nook and corner. And it is thus 
 to-day the Convict's harbor, his sure port in 
 which to steer for respite from the temptations 
 of life. No greater commendation of it can be 
 said, than that its usefulness grew until more 
 land and a larger shelter were necessary to con- 
 tinue the divinely approved work. The Flushing 
 accommodations rapidly failed to meet the de- 
 mands, and it was considered to be a movement 
 of wisdom when Hope Hall was transferred to 
 Orangeburgh, N. Y. In the later haven a most 
 beautiful garden spot Mrs. Booth's friends, the 
 lowly ones, gather, even unto this day, for en- 
 couragement in the Christian warfare. Once each 
 year all the faithful gather at Hope Hall to com- 
 pare notes, to tell what God has done for them. 
 
 While in Prison I had been corresponding with 
 officers of the Life-Boat Mission of Chicago, 
 among them being its superintendent, Mr. E. B. 
 Van Dorn, and Dr. David Paulson, the visiting 
 physician. They had sent me numerous copies 
 of the Life-Boat, an intensely interesting period- 
 ical devoted to the furtherance of the Mission's 
 
 125
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 splendid work among the shipwrecks, drifting 
 along the waters of Lost Opportunities, through 
 having neglected to avail themselves of the Great 
 Divine Pilot, to guide their barks safely in tem- 
 pestuous seas. 
 
 I found the Mission at No. 471 State Street, 
 where I was made very welcome, Superintendent 
 Van Dorn and Dr. Paulson evincing the utmost 
 interest in me. I attended their meetings at 
 every opportunity, took part in them, and, in all 
 ways possible, endeavored to perform my duty as 
 a Christian. The work of the Mission was con- 
 ducted on much the same plan as the McAuley 
 Mission in New York, and, naturally, a tremen- 
 dous amount of good was accomplished among 
 the human wrecks who came under its benevo- 
 lent influence. 
 
 Upon leaving for the East t I was profoundly 
 impressed that William T. Stead, the English 
 critic on morals, would have dealt less harshly 
 with Chicago had he spent more of his time at 
 the Life-Boat Mission. Certainly the character 
 of the Christian effort put forth there, was such 
 as to be felt in all sections of the city. It has 
 been truly said that one is known by his works, 
 and, surely, there was ample evidence of God's 
 blessing having been freely bestowed on the Life- 
 Boat Mission. 
 
 Directly after this, I went to my dear old Ver- 
 mont home. Somehow the news of my conver- 
 sion had preceded me, and I was received by 
 
 126
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 friends who had despaired of my salvation, with 
 a heartiness that was as gratifying as it was 
 touching. Of a truth, God raised up more friends 
 for me, and in a marvellous manner made my 
 effort to keep the faith much less difficult than 
 it would have otherwise been. 
 
 My start in the Christian pathway was made 
 without funds, so I immediately set about to find 
 work. There was precious little that a man of my 
 years could do, except to work on a farm, and 
 soon I was on my hands and knees pulling weeds 
 from the fields, and doing other odd jobs wher- 
 ever I could get them. Often my stiffened back 
 seemed unequal to the tasks, but I must live, and 
 to do it, required bread and meat. 
 
 In the meantime I was making herculean 
 efforts to get my first book, " From Boniface to 
 Bank Burglar," in the hands of a publisher. 
 Through its agency I desired to demonstrate to 
 the world what it was that primarily directed me 
 to the commission of crime. And, too, I wanted 
 to counteract, if possible, some of the evil for 
 which I was individually responsible. 
 
 Very earnest was I, to show the people that 
 I had been treacherously robbed of all I pos- 
 sessed in money and lands, and in turn, in rob- 
 bing others the rich I was but playing the 
 game of high finance, by a rule not so universally 
 recognized as the one daily followed in the stock 
 gambling exchanges of so-called civilized coun- 
 tries. Then, having done this, I wanted to prove 
 
 127
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 to those who had regarded me as a menace to 
 society, that I was no longer such, but rather, 
 was inclined to become a benefactor of it, by 
 exposing the secrets of the burglar-craft, of 
 which I had been one of considerable notoriety, 
 as recorded in the annals of crime and criminals. 
 
 Then through this volume, " The Penalty and 
 Redemption," a sequel to the first book, I was de- 
 termined to manifest how awful were the steps I 
 had taken, what price I had paid for breaking the 
 Divine and secular laws, and how God, in His 
 great mercy, allowed His Holy Spirit to enter my 
 wicked soul, when life's pendulum was about to 
 be stilled and brought me up from the cesspool 
 of sin, into the full realization of His power to 
 forgive, even the vilest sinner in all the world ! 
 
 I must' not be charged with egotism in saying 
 that I worked with great diligence to accom- 
 plish my purpose, and I did succeed to a certain 
 degree. My book, " From Boniface to Bank 
 Burglar," was issued in due time, and found 
 quick sale in the New England States. I be- 
 lieved that the work in which I was putting heart 
 and soul interest, was destined to prove to an 
 unbelieving world the infinite power and bound- 
 less beneficence of God. But having written the 
 first book at a time when my Christian experi- 
 ence was in its swaddling clothes, the immaturity 
 of my reasoning was palpably in evidence. As I 
 progressed in the spiritual life, the conviction 
 settled upon me that I had dwarfed good example 
 
 128
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 and overshadowed it in personal grievance 
 against man. 
 
 Thanks be to God, however, He opened my eyes 
 by increasing my spiritual understanding, so that 
 I saw the error of my way. In the light of this, 
 I saw how in "From Boniface to Bank Burglar," 
 I had bitterly arraigned man and conditions. The 
 spirit in which it was treated had more in it of the 
 human hurt supplemented by resentment, than 
 of the weak human who had permitted himself to 
 commit a crime against which he should have 
 revolted to the extent of bearing, unflinchingly, 
 any punishment, no matter how severe or unmer- 
 ited it might be. 
 
 Then and there I resolved that "The Penalty 
 and Redemption" should depict the more ad- 
 vanced, and true state of my regenerate soul. 
 When I wrote "From Boniface to Bank Burglar" 
 I must have been sadly deficient in respect to the 
 broad spirit of forgiveness that constrained the 
 Saviour to say : 
 
 "Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
 they do." 
 
 Instead of an unreserved complete forgive- 
 ness, there was in me an underlying, positive 
 vein of keen resentment. Though I was hardly 
 conscious of this, nevertheless, it was in my heart. 
 I had not then, after all, arrived at that desirable 
 state where I could, without an iota of mental 
 reservation, forgive those who had so terribly 
 persecuted me. But later, how wonderfully God's 
 
 129
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 spirit operated in me. I found myself able to say 
 in "Penalty and Redemption :" 
 
 "Herbert T. Bellows, stocks and bonds holder, 
 I freely forgive you as God forgave me. 
 
 "F. F. Lane, District Attorney, I have no re- 
 sentment for even you. Though you placed me 
 in the malefactor's dock, and allowed the real 
 thief to go free, not in the tiniest corner of my 
 heart can there be found room for aught but: 
 forgiveness for you. 
 
 "Judge Doe, though you connived with others 
 in putting the last straw upon my burdened 
 shoulders, and impelled me, in a desperate 
 moment of weak manhood, to plunge into sin, 
 I forgive you, as I have faith to believe God has 
 forgiven me, and will continue to forgive me to 
 the end." 
 
 Thank God, all resentment has gone from me 
 forever. I hate no man on earth, nor have I the 
 faintest feeling of anger for the memory of any 
 one who did me evil, and has passed on to the 
 final, great accounting. Those who have read 
 the preceding volume are in a mood to judge 
 whether or not a victory for the faith was won, 
 in my complete change of heart. 
 
 130
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE BANKER AND THE EX-BURGLAR. 
 
 "I will be pleased to see you at the bank when- 
 ever you find it convenient to come." 
 
 How simple these words seem, in a casual 
 reading. A plain, kindly invitation for me to 
 call at the Cheshire National Bank of Keene, 
 N. H., at my leisure, and see Mr. R. H. Porter, 
 its venerable vice-president. But what a world 
 of significance I found in the letter from which I 
 culled this quotation. I have not regarded any 
 other experience of a secular nature with so 
 much real gratification since my conversion. 
 
 The banker asked the former burglar to come 
 and see him, and I went, but just what day or 
 week it was, I do not now recall. It was, at all 
 events, after the publication of my first book. 
 Mr. Porter received me with enthusiasm. 
 
 "My old pupil and friend!" he cried, "I'm so 
 glad to see you, and hear the good news I" 
 
 He quite unnerved me, but I managed to show, 
 in my quiet manner, how glad I was to possess 
 the confidence of so stalwart a man ? and first citi- 
 zen of his town. 
 
 "Sit here, George," he bade me, pointing out 
 a chair in his office, "for I want to have a good 
 long talk with you. Tell me how you are getting 
 along." 
 
 131
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 "Fighting the good fight of the faith," I an- 
 swered, "and doing my level best." 
 
 "Right, right, and it should be so," he ex- 
 claimed approvingly. 
 
 "With God and such friends as you to help 
 me," I replied feelingly, "how can I fail to be 
 victorious over sin and the devil, and live down 
 the dreadful past?" 
 
 "It is too bad the world doesn't judge a person 
 by what he is, and not by what he has been," Mr. 
 Porter said with a vehemence that filled me with 
 surprise. 
 
 "You mean, Mr. Porter," I was moved to say, 
 in translation of the thought his words hardly 
 expressed, "that if I were judged by the life I 
 am now trying to live, instead of by the reputa- 
 tion of outlawry which still clings to me, my 
 fighting in the Christian army would not be so 
 difficult?" 
 
 He nodded his head approvingly, after delib- 
 erating a moment over my abruptness in putting 
 it. 
 
 "You present the bitter pellet, minus its sugar 
 coating 1" he answered, with a smile that was knit 
 with a serious mood. 
 
 I was unable afterward to clearly explain how 
 I became possessed of a strong desire to resent the 
 fate that made me what I was that minute. It 
 was extremely out of joint with my profession of 
 Christianity, besides causing me to waste time in 
 vain regrets. 
 
 132
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Mr. Porter detected my conflicting emotions. 
 
 "What is it, my old friend?" he asked, in a 
 tone that fanned into flame the mood which for 
 the moment controlled me. 
 
 "I wish I were back again in those old days !" 
 burst from me with a ferocity that set my whole 
 body a-tremble. "Some one has said, 'Oh God! 
 turn back Thy universe, and give me yesterday T 
 My cry is that. Give me, my God ! give me yes- 
 terday again, only let the yesterday represent the 
 innocent school days, when I knew you! Oh, if 
 God would turn back my days, then would I 
 unfold cleaner pages in place of those hideous, 
 blotted ones I can not rid myself of !" 
 
 I bowed my head in profound grief and 
 remorse, proving for the instant how weak, after 
 all, was I, who had felt so stanch in the faith. 
 
 "There, there, my dear friend, my old pupil," 
 said Mr. Porter, placing his hand tenderly on my 
 shoulder, "it would be easier to change the 
 leopard's spots than to destroy the indelible record 
 of the past ! You may hedge it in, yet it will be 
 there! The only way is to drive a stake down, 
 and never, never return beyond it ! Blaze another 
 path with the keen blade of the Gospel, and never 
 swerve from it. Anything else is vain repining." 
 
 "I was weak for a moment, Mr. Porter, and for 
 that little instant envious of you. How proudly 
 you stand among men, your life already crowned 
 with the glory of years that are approaching their 
 flood. You stand honored of God and man, while 
 
 133
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 I well, I was your pupil, in the little old red 
 brick schoolhouse we both remember so well. You 
 taught me diligently, and failed not to tell me of 
 the path of rectitude in which I should travel. 
 Time moved on, and I grew to manhood and 
 commercial affairs. Your talents, put to good 
 use, carried you to the banking-house. We met 
 in business transactions, you the banker and I 
 the commercial man. Thousands of dollars 
 passed between us. We were both successful, 
 and then " 
 
 The rush of emotion overcame me for a bit, 
 and I was silent, Mr. Porter meanwhile being 
 consumed with anxiety. I went on: 
 
 "There came a change in one character of the 
 life play. That was not you it was George 
 White. You remained the banker, an honored 
 citizen, while I became the burglar the thief." 
 Mr. Porter sprang from his seat and interrupted 
 me. 
 
 "You shall not unnecessarily scourge yourself," 
 he cried. "Don't use so harsh a term." 
 
 "Let me say it ever so strongly," I urged, "I 
 feel it will do me good. Perhaps a feebler realiza- 
 tion of God's mercy might make me less humble 
 than I should be." 
 
 "You were driven into crime, George most 
 cruelly put to it. Enemies practically forced you 
 off your own doorstep, out into the broad waste 
 of wrong-doing," said my friend soothingly. 
 
 "Don't try to make my sins seem too plausible, 
 
 134
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 Mr. Porter," I went on earnestly. "For years I 
 fondly nursed that delusion in my breast, as an 
 excuse to rob man, and break the laws of God. 
 It was indeed a delusion. Now, I know, for my 
 heart tells me truly, that I should have stood up 
 like an everlasting wall against my persecutors, 
 and put my trust in Him to confound them, for 
 that would have been their fate, ultimately." 
 
 "As I now contemplate the facts of your down- 
 fall of more than forty years ago," broke in my 
 friend with extreme fervor, "they almost stagger 
 my credulity. In the illumination of to-day, your 
 varied experiences thrill me intensely." 
 
 "They blackened my soul almost beyond re- 
 demption," I supplemented solemnly. 
 
 "I think that an almighty and just God sym- 
 pathized with you, George even when you sinned 
 against Him most. His Spirit must have been 
 following you, no matter how unworthy you 
 were." 
 
 "I should have trusted him implicitly in all of 
 those dark days of long ago, regardless of what 
 happened to me," I said simply. 
 
 "Yet God did not permit those who wronged 
 you to escape unpunished," said Mr. Porter, with 
 considerable feeling. 
 
 "I have forgiven all who conspired in any way 
 to ruin me, Mr. Porter, as freely as my Master 
 has forgiven me. Thanks to His blessed name, 
 my heart responds truly to this sentiment." 
 
 "The man from whose persecutions you suf- 
 
 135
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 fered most, has gone his way," said my friend, 
 with a sadness that was infectious. 
 
 "You mean Herbert Bellows?" I inquired, 
 feeling that he referred to him. 
 
 "Yes! You probably know that retribution 
 came to him ?" I nodded in the affirmative. 
 
 "Being cognizant of the circumstances through 
 which he enriched himself at your expense," went 
 on Mr. Porter, "yet I pitied him. He went to 
 his grave in abject, pinching poverty, and abso- 
 lutely friendless." 
 
 "Yes, yes, he paid the penalty," I said, "but 
 I hope he made his peace with God." 
 
 "Of that I am not informed, though I do know 
 he suffered untold misery. How else could it be 
 with one who had known riches without stint ?" 
 
 Having said this, Mr. Porter turned enthusias- 
 tically to the subject of my book, "From Boni- 
 face to Bank Burglar," having read a copy I 
 sent him. 
 
 "I can't thank you any better for it," he said, 
 "than by telling you I picked it up casually, in- 
 tending to read it at intervals, but becoming 
 fascinated, finished it in one reading." 
 
 "I hope my books will serve a better purpose 
 that the mere relation of facts of how I got into 
 a criminal life," I said explanatorily, "for I want 
 it known broadcast, that if there is hope for one 
 so sinful as I was, then how much more of a 
 chance is there for those who have not stolen 
 from their fellow-men." 
 
 136
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "It must be so, George, if you are sincere, and 
 I have great faith in you." My friend went on: 
 "I was particularly interested in the chapter of 
 the Walpole Savings Bank burglary in New 
 Hampshire. You did well to write about it. Now 
 I thought I was very familiar with its history, 
 but you have thrown much new light on it. I 
 have never, until now, understood the depth of 
 the outrageous wrong you suffered, and I don't 
 think it was generally known to our people here." 
 
 I thanked Mr. Porter for his unsolicited confi- 
 dence, but made no other comment. He went on : 
 
 "I congratulate you most cordially for aban- 
 doning a life which taught you so many severe les- 
 sons, and honor you for coming back to the old 
 scenes of your youthful days, and numbering 
 yourself among the old friends whose confidence 
 and esteem you may now justly claim;." 
 
 I did not attempt to apologize for the hot tears 
 that rushed to my eyes, filling them almost to 
 blindness. How thirstily I drank in the solacing 
 words of cheer and encouragement, uttered by 
 this spiritually-youthful, aged man. He was evi- 
 dently of a set mind to befriend me, who was 
 so sadly in need of it. 
 
 It did not seem possible, at first, that this man 
 of wealth, vice-president in a leading bank of 
 which he was a substantial owner, could have 
 been at one time my school teacher. He had 
 industriously employed the talents which God 
 had given himi, while I but he spoke again: 
 
 137
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 "I will be pleased to see you at the bank, 
 George, any time you find it convenient to come." 
 
 "Thank you," I replied, in a way that told him 
 of my gratitude. 
 
 "And I assure you, George," said Mr. Porter, 
 with a smile, "that I won't have a detective trail- 
 ing you, as has often been the case in other days 
 I might mention." 
 
 It would have been impossible to conceal my 
 surprise had I been of a mind to. 
 
 "I fear I don't comprehend you," was my 
 ejaculation. "Detectives trailing me? When?" 
 
 "Unless I am in error, you never came in this 
 State while in the profession of a a " 
 
 "Burglar, Mr. Porter go on!" and I said the 
 word for him such was his kindness. 
 
 "Well, then, I had a watch put on you for 
 the safety of our bank, and that's a fact." 
 
 There was nothing for me to say, and remain- 
 ing silent my friend proceeded. 
 
 ''But not now, I am happy to say. Rather, I 
 shall, it is more than probable, consult you as to 
 the best method of making our bank safe from 
 fertile brains and covetous hands." 
 
 It will require little, if any, imagination, for one 
 to realize what joy I experienced, as a result of 
 this rebinding of ties so long severed. 
 
 138
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SHADOWS AND SUNSHINE. 
 
 The first sorrow to befall me after my conver- 
 sion was the death of Mr. Hadley on February 
 9, 1906, followed by his funeral, which took place 
 from the McAuley Mission a few days later. 
 
 Words from my pen must necessarily be inad- 
 equate to express the feeling of loss that possessed 
 me. Mr. Hadley was the cornerstone, in the 
 temporal life, on which I had builded. Next to 
 God, I depended upon him for counsel, and he 
 never failed me. He was my terrestrial father, 
 as God was and is my spiritual Father. Con- 
 sidering these supports I do not so much marvel 
 at times, why I was able to escape from the ball 
 and chain that bound me in the pit of sin. 
 
 Far be it from me to think of writing a 
 eulogy on Mr. Hadley. Better that that should 
 come from those who knew him longer than I. 
 Not least among these was Rev. Dr. J. Wesley 
 Johnston of the Old John Street Methodist Epis- 
 copal Church, in New York. 
 
 In commending Mr. Hadley's book, whose title 
 page bears the name of "Down in Water Street," 
 Dr. Johnston said, when Mr. Hadley was yet 
 alive : 
 
 "A book written by the superintendent of the 
 Jerry McAuley Mission in Water Street needs 
 
 139
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 no introduction from me, for the fame of this 
 Mission is world-wide, and its honored and suc- 
 cessful superintendent is known to all Christian 
 people. . . . May God bless this book. And 
 may he bless its writer, and spare him for many 
 years to the work he is conducting with such 
 success." 
 
 Rev. J. Wilbur Chapman, D.D., of the Fourth 
 Presbyterian Church of New York, attended the 
 funeral, and delivered a beautiful personal tribute 
 to the memory of his dead friend. In this con- 
 nection I should state that Dr. Chapman's eulogy 
 was the more appropriate, since Mr. Hadley had 
 requested that the doctor speak at his obsequies. 
 
 "If you survive me, doctor," Mr. Hadley had 
 said many months before his death, "speak at my 
 funeral of the blessed Jesus, and His great power 
 to save from sin." 
 
 Dr. Chapman often choked with emotion as he 
 talked with heart knowledge of his dear, departed 
 friend. Seldom has such pathos fallen from 
 human lips. 
 
 "If I speak briefly to-day," said the doctor, "it 
 must be remembered that I am speaking out of 
 a full heart, and if my utterances seem broken, 
 then please do not forget that my emotion is 
 almost beyond my control. It is as if one had 
 been called to stand beside the casket of his own 
 brother, and yet he was more to me than brother ; 
 or, it is as if one were standing beside the casket 
 of a member of his own household, for I think I 
 
 140
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 could almost say that my affection for S. H. Had- 
 ley was as deep and tender as for those who are 
 my own flesh and blood, and I say the truth 
 when I declare that I had rather be S. H. Hadley 
 lying dead in his coffin, having stirred these gra- 
 cious memories in the minds of so many of us, 
 and having changed so many lives for good, than 
 to be what the world would call New York's most 
 famous citizen. . . . His going away has left 
 us desolate the world actually seems a lonesome 
 place to live. New York seems to me to have 
 lost something as a matter of fact, the best of 
 it has gone away, and I can never again think 
 of the city as being what it has been in the past, 
 when S. H. Hadley lived and loved and worked 
 here in the spirit of Jesus. . . . He preached 
 a great salvation. No one was too far away from 
 God for Him, no life was ever too low in his 
 estimation for salvation, and no one was ever too 
 hopeless for him not to make an effort to lead 
 him or her to Christ. He had an uttermost salva- 
 tion for every wandering sinner." 
 
 Powerful words, these last. But for the sen- 
 timent in them, I might still be a wanderer in sin, 
 for I was indeed a striking example of the effi- 
 cacy of an "uttermost salvation." And so my 
 friend passed on to his reward, leaving a vacancy 
 in my life that was difficult to fill but God doth 
 watch over the sparrows, the Divine truth 
 emphasizes, and as they were not too inconse- 
 quential for his notice, so was not I, in the loss 
 
 141
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 of my earthly counsellor. He raised up for me 
 another staff upon which to lean when I grew 
 faint by the wayside, in the person of John H. 
 Wyburn, who, for several years was the assistant 
 superintendent of the Jerry McAuley Mission, 
 and succeeded Mr. Hadley as its superintendent. 
 
 As the Mission had thrived under the guidance 
 of Mr. Hadley, so it continued to prosper, as a 
 natural response to the able direction of Mr. 
 Wyburn, who proved himself to be a worthy 
 disciple to wear the mantle descended from his 
 predecessor. Of a truth, Mr. Wyburn has since 
 shown himself to be well deserving of the praise 
 given him by thousands of loyal workers in the 
 Vineyard of the Lord. 
 
 As a co-laborer in the Mission with Mr. 
 Hadley, Mr. Wyburn was thoroughly beloved. 
 Those who came to intimately know and love 
 Mr. Hadley, remarked upon the brotherly love 
 that existed between them. Perhaps no better 
 illustration of it may be had, than the appended 
 extract from a letter which Mr. Hadley wrote to 
 Mr. Wyburn on the occasion of the latter's cele- 
 bration of the sixteenth anniversary of his con- 
 version : 
 
 "I have known you probably closer than any 
 man living since the hour of your conversion. I 
 have learned to love you more and deeper each 
 day of our journey together ; your spotless, beau- 
 tiful, Christian life, tender love for the lost and 
 erring, your candid, manly friendship, make you 
 
 142
 
 John H. Wyburn, Superintendent of the McAuley Mission
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 a peerless missionary, and have endeared you to 
 thousands all over this globe. I have never 
 enjoyed any one's company, as a co-worker in 
 this great fight for souls, as I have yours. Your 
 love and sympathy have cheered me on, when, 
 sometimes, I have thought that heart and flesh 
 would fail. In all these years we have never had 
 a word or look of difference. 
 
 "You are the best loved man of us all. God 
 bless you! God bless your precious wife and 
 child, and may we at last meet in that bright land 
 above, where sin can never cause any more tears 
 or sorrow, and we can forever dwell with those 
 we have wept and prayed over down here." 
 
 It was with no small degree of satisfaction that 
 I was privileged to obtain from Mr. Wyburn the 
 narrative of his conversion, told in his own simple, 
 forceful language: 
 
 "I was sent with a letter of introduction to Mr. 
 S. H. Hadley, of No. 316 Water Street, on the 
 25th day of September, 1888, by one of the con- 
 verts of the Mission, who did not say anything to 
 me about the fact of Mr. Hadley being the super- 
 intendent of the McAuley Mission, but simply 
 said, 'This is a friend of mine he will help you/ 
 On the way down to the Mission I came to 
 the conclusion that I would strike him for ten 
 dollars. 
 
 "Fortunately for me he was not at home, but 1 
 retained the letter, and went out looking for more 
 whiskey. I was unsuccessful in getting much 
 
 143
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 money that afternoon, and I believe God was in 
 it, for it had been easy for me to get five or ten 
 dollars a day. I had done an extensive business 
 in New York and Brooklyn, and had lots of 
 friends. 
 
 "I hunted all the afternoon for a man who 
 had been one of my foremen for many years, and 
 finally found him. But he had just paid out 
 all of his ready money for a new oven, he having 
 recently started in the bakery business. He 
 could only give me a quarter of a dollar. With 
 that I bought my last drink, crossed the bridge, 
 and came to the McAuley Mission. 
 
 "It has always puzzled me to know how I 
 found it, for I knew nothing of the neighborhood. 
 My best belief is that God was leading me. Any- 
 how I woke up, as it were, to find myself seated 
 in the Mission, still holding on to the letter. Even 
 then, I didn't have the slightest idea of what I 
 would encounter. 
 
 "It was my very first experience of the kind. 
 I immediately became interested in the man 
 sitting next to me a red-headed Irishman who 
 wanted to get a place to sleep. I told him I 
 would give him the price, and he did get a bed 
 that night. Though I have never seen him since, 
 I have always prayed for him. 
 
 "Some one told Mr. Hadley that I wanted to 
 see him, and he came to the seat where I was. I 
 handed him the letter. After reading it he said, 
 'Well, what can I do for you?' I told him I 
 
 144
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 wanted to get sobered up so I could go back about 
 my business, and he said : 
 
 " 'Is that all you want ?' I thought, 'If you only 
 knew how impossible it is for me to keep sober, 
 you wouldn't speak so lightly about it.' 
 
 "But in a moment he said, his face beaming 
 with light and love: 
 
 " 'What you need, my dear brother, is Jesus 
 Christ as your friend and Saviour. He will 
 sober you up, and you will never want another 
 drink.' 
 
 "I accepted his pressing invitation to stay to 
 the meeting, and what a wonderful meeting it 
 was! The hymns that were sung took me back 
 to the days of childhood. Every man seemed to 
 be saying to me, through his testimony, "There's 
 hope for you Jesus will save you!' And when 
 the man who sent me to the Mission stood up, 
 and said he was saved, I immediately got up and 
 said, 'I want some of that!' And that very 
 moment the great transaction was done. 
 
 " 'All the fitness He requireth, is to feel your 
 need of Him.' 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hadley did know what I needed, 
 for God forgave my sins, my rebellion, and made 
 me a new man in Christ Jesus. 
 
 "I went to the penitent form at the close of the 
 meeting, the devil following me every step of 
 the way. When I got down on my knees to pray, 
 he very vividly brought to my mind the old life 
 of unbelief, and said, 'What's the use of your 
 
 145
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 praying you don't believe in prayer anyhow?' 
 I got up and down, and up and down several 
 times. Finally the victory was won sweet de- 
 liverance came victory through the might and 
 power of the precious blood of Jesus, and from 
 that very moment I believed that I would never 
 take another drink of whiskey. Every drop of 
 blood in my veins had been crying out for it, but 
 Jesus had taken me at my word, the very moment 
 I said, 'I will !' With Jesus in my heart, the old 
 life passed away. 
 
 "There were times, however, when I suffered 
 the tortures of the damned, and it seemed as if all 
 of the demons of hell were tugging at my life, 
 and sleep was impossible all night long, but 
 through it all Jesus was with me. I would have 
 given any part of my body, if I could have gotten 
 entirely rid of the appetite, but Jesus and He 
 alone saved me from it. 
 
 "It was the most strenuous fight I ever had 
 the devil was after my life. 'But he had me once 
 and let me go, and he can't have me any more.' 
 And from that very moment I have been a free 
 man. Oh! the luxury of freedom'! With Jesus 
 in my heart and life, how sweet it is to live. 
 
 "I have been, from that night, holding out the 
 life line to lost, dying drunkards in this dear old 
 Mission! For three years I had the privilege of 
 being superintendent of the Bowery Mission, and 
 God wonderfully used my feeble efforts. All 
 over this land are men who have been redeemed 
 
 146
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 through the simple testimony which God has 
 given me to tell the story of His matchless grace 
 to save and keep a sinner like me. 
 
 "Long ago I gave my life to this work. It is 
 true I have been tempted to give it up, and, yield- 
 ing once, left the Bowery Mission, which I 
 deeply regretted. But God called me back, and I 
 have never wanted to run away again. I want 
 to give my life as did my beloved brother who, 
 a few months ago, went to his reward for the 
 salvation of the drunkards of this land, and point 
 them to the only One who can help them Jesus, 
 the precious Son of God." 
 
 Such was the man whom God had put in my 
 way, that the fight for eternal righteousness 
 which I was waging, might be won at last. Is it 
 strange that I was thankful, and vowed with all 
 the sincerity of a redeemed soul to press on? 
 Nor was my assistance of the temporal sort 
 limited to Mr. Wyburn. As the days merged 
 into weeks and months, I discovered others ex- 
 tending anxious hands to help me over slippery 
 places, and whisper encouragement. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Johnston, of Old John Street M. E. 
 Church, whose friendship for Mr. Hadley has 
 been briefly referred to, heard of me and my 
 unfortunate life in crime, and recent emancipa- 
 tion. He, too, extended the unsheathed hand of 
 friendship, and bade me welcome to his fold. 
 Aye, it was the right hand of fellowship he gave 
 me, and it had blood in it, fresh from a heart 
 
 147
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 burning with compassion and a yearning to help 
 me. And when he said, "Come with us!" I 
 responded, my heart bounding with renewed 
 hope, and I was proud that my name would be 
 recorded on the membership roll of Old John 
 Street Church. 
 
 In and out of season. Dr. Johnston labored 
 earnestly to render my Christian endeavor rich 
 with the fulness of a great reward. 
 
 Through his instrumentality other Christian 
 influences came into my life. From all sides, 
 from the ranks of the poor, and the circles of 
 wealth, I received a royal welcome to the society 
 of churchly companionship. 
 
 The McAuley Mission, too, bore me many 
 friends of high and low degree, in the reckoning 
 of worldly possessions, but all equally exalted in 
 the fellowship royal of Christ, the Master. 
 
 Among these was Joseph J. Rafter, the re- 
 deemed drunkard-printer, of Springfield, Mass. 
 His case appealed to me with a personal interest 
 that was entirely natural. Joseph Rafter had 
 been on the border of utter ruin, as the price of 
 indulgence in rum, and it had been my bitter, 
 relentless enemy, too, for the better part of a 
 lifetime. He had been saved from its curse 
 through the grace of God and the interposition 
 of friends. I, too, had been able to cut loose from 
 the terrible appetite, and when I first knew him, 
 was fighting the demon with a determination to 
 win by the aid of that same merciful Power. 
 
 148
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Who on earth was able to give me better coun- 
 sel in such a warfare than he Joseph Rafter? 
 He had been pursued by the -enemy until friends 
 appeared and pointed out to him the highway 
 leading to emancipation. The still, small Voice 
 had spoken, and he had heard it. When I con- 
 fessed to him of encounters with this common 
 enemy, and exhibited the scars, we counselled 
 together, and joined forces for the purpose of 
 waging continual war on the camp of this soul- 
 destroyer. 
 
 I discover myself without capacity to meet 
 the happy effort of penning words powerful 
 enough to express my admiration for this new 
 friend, who proved himself to be a wonderful 
 example of splendid manhood. Therefore I 
 turn to sources better qualified to sing the de- 
 served praise of this my esteemed friend Joseph 
 Rafter. 
 
 In commenting on him, Superintendent 
 Wyburn, of the Mission, has said : 
 
 "I wish you could have seen Brother Joe 
 Rafter when he first came to our Mission. He 
 looked to be fully twenty years older, the most 
 unhappy, wretched specimen of the devil's work 
 I think I have ever seen. He is now one of our 
 leading Converts tender, loving, and true always 
 ready to help in any way, wonderfully earnest 
 in seeking after the salvation of others, loving 
 everybody and beloved by every one." 
 
 What a New England editor thought of Mr. 
 
 149
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 Rafter and his conversion, may be gathered from 
 the following, which was published on September 
 26, 1906, in the New England Homestead: 
 
 " 'A master of his craft when he let the drink 
 alone.' 
 
 "That was a common expression among the 
 acquaintances of Joseph J. Rafter when he was 
 in business in Springfield, about fifteen years ago, 
 and it was about as near the mark as could be hit. 
 Joe Rafter was considered the ablest printer in 
 this end of Massachusetts, and, as the head of 
 the Rafter-Ripley Company, successors to the old 
 established business of Weaver, Shipman and 
 Company where he served his apprenticeship 
 in the building now occupied by the Board of 
 Trade he drifted away from here and was 
 heard of occasionally in distant places, until 
 he dropped entirely out of sight. This week, recol- 
 lections of Joe Rafter were revived by the receipt 
 of the following unique invitation from John H. 
 Wyburn, superintendent of the McAuley Mis- 
 sion, of New York : 
 
 DEAR FRIEND: You are cordially in- 
 vited to be present and assist in the 
 celebration of the first anniversary of 
 the conversion of our beloved Brother 
 Joseph J. Rafter, which will be held at 
 the Old Jerry McAuley Water Street 
 Mission, No. 316 Water Street New 
 York City, Tuesday evening, October 9, 
 
 150
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 1906, at 7.30 o'clock. Your presence 
 will be especially welcome, to rejoice 
 with him for God's mercy and loving- 
 kindness in saving and keeping him 
 from a wretched, drunken, sinful life, 
 by His wonderful love and power alone, 
 raising him up from the very jaws of 
 death. Praise His precious Name! 
 He and He alone can save. 
 
 "Joe Rafter, who spent all of his early life in 
 Springfield, was a protege of the late Ben Wea- 
 ver, and was one of the chief factors in giving 
 the Weaver, Shipman & Company printing shop 
 its reputation for fine work. His fame for 
 artistic composition was widespread, and when the 
 late Curtis B. Wells went out of the firm, he 
 took Joe with him, and the Wells-Rafter Print- 
 ing Company was established on Main Street 
 opposite Haynes' Hotel. J. Eveleth Griffith, now 
 of Boston, was a member of this firm. Joe soon 
 sought other fields to conquer, and worked in 
 responsible capacities with some of the largest 
 printing firms in the country. 
 
 "Finally he landed in Hartford, Conn., and as 
 superintendent of R. S. Peck and Company, 
 brought that firm to a high standing. Joe knew 
 all the tricks of estimating and saving press work 
 and other expenses on book and catalogue print- 
 ing in ways unfamiliar to the average printer, 
 and one of his chief delights was to have big 
 
 151
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 contracts follow him about the country in what- 
 ever big printing plants he located. He was with 
 the Hartford firm for a dozen years, in the late 
 nineties, and early in this century, then left on 
 one of his leaving-spells to go with the Griffith, 
 Axtell and Cady Company, of Holyoke, for a 
 year. Yet after that R. S. Peck and Company 
 called him back again. 
 
 "Joe Rafter's only failing was an irresistible 
 breaking away for a periodical jag. He would 
 stay sober for months, often not drinking a drop, 
 then suddenly disappear for a two or three weeks' 
 'time.' It was at the end of these sprees that 
 he usually changed his employer, though often 
 against his employer's wishes, for it was a 
 peculiar fact in Rafter's career that his employer 
 was usually ready to overlook his one failing, 
 even though he left the shop in the lurch, for his 
 value to the office when he was all right. Mr. 
 Peck took him back half a score of times during 
 his Hartford career, and in one of Rafter's con- 
 tracts for a year with a big printing concern 
 one that knew his failing, too he had inserted a 
 clause that permitted him a periodical absence 
 from duty, as he might see fit, without breaking 
 the contract. 
 
 "His restless disposition finally carried him 
 away from Hartford, and Springfield has not 
 heard much from him, till this latest ebullition 
 and invitation to see him as a redeemed man, 
 which was mailed to a few friends here. The 
 
 152
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 invitation is artistically printed, and evidently 
 done by Rafter himself. He was married and his 
 wife and he seem to stick together through all 
 his roamings and vicissitudinous life. While in 
 Springfield, Rafter was for over five years a 
 member of the local militia, and of the Masonic 
 fraternity, and Knights of Pythias, Benevolent 
 and Protective Order of Elks, and Red Men, and 
 the most widely known printer in the town." 
 
 I have read with unabated interest Mr. Rafter's 
 own account of his sudden change from an exist- 
 ence steeped in sin and rum. It told me in no 
 uncertain words what manner of man he was 
 under the destructive rule of the devil, and 
 showed me, in glorious contrast, his subsequent 
 life, filled with the joys of a clear conscience 
 through sin abandoned, and a justifiable pride in 
 the complete triumph of manhood over an appe- 
 tite debauched. 
 
 With Mr. Rafter's permission I have appended 
 this manly confession, that it may obtain wide- 
 spread attention, and, perhaps, stand out as an 
 object lesson to some poor, misguided, hopeless 
 wayfarer : 
 
 "I thank God for salvation. I am a redeemed 
 drunkard. A newspaper extract printed in an- 
 other part of this narrative tells of my downward 
 career. During those years I had the advantage 
 of all cures administered in sanitariums and hos- 
 pitals. Released from the New Haven Hospital, 
 where my wife had committed me, I immedi- 
 
 153
 
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ately came to New York. Having no money, I 
 soon began to sell my clothes, panhandle and 
 borrow money, to satisfy a craving for drink. 
 
 "And now follows the story of my rescue : 
 
 "It was on October 8, 1905, on Sunday morn- 
 ing, at 6.30 o'clock, after walking the streets 
 nearly all night, as I had often done before, catch- 
 ing a little sleep here and there on doorsteps and 
 trucks, wandering around tired, hungry and 
 hopeless, almost insane and almost frozen from 
 exposure. I thought I could get a little sleep or 
 rest in a saloon where I had spent most of the 
 days and nights of seven weeks. Here had gath- 
 ered, as usual, from twenty to twenty-five men, of 
 all classes and conditions, and who had spent the 
 whole night there, most of them in a drunken 
 stupor. Many of these men had been my com- 
 panions for seven weeks. 
 
 "I had hardly reached the inside door of the 
 saloon, before I was told to get out, the pro- 
 prietor saying I was a disgrace to the place, and 
 that he did not want me there any more. I 
 thank God for that crucial moment. Turning 
 right-about-face, I took an inventory of myself. 
 
 " 'If I am a disgrace to this place,' I said, '\ 
 surely am of no use to myself, my friends, or 
 my family, and I had better put' an end to it all/ 
 It was with this idea of self-destruction in mind, 
 that I wandered down to South Street near the 
 East River. I then realized where I was, and, 
 sitting down, wept like a child. God must have 
 
 154
 
 Underwood &f Underwood 
 
 The Meeting Room where Mr. Rafter was converted He is seen sitting 
 at the left of Supt. Wyburn, who stands behind the desk
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 been with me, for as soon as I got near the edge 
 of the pier, a watchman ordered me off, saying I 
 had no right there, and that I had better go 
 home, that if the boss found me there he would 
 lose his job. Then I certainly did think I had 
 no friends. 
 
 "An impulse seized me, and, turning, I re- 
 traced my steps up Roosevelt Street, where I 
 happened to notice the transparency of the McAu- 
 ley Mission. I was dirty ! My clothes did not fit, 
 being relievers. My shoes were tied on with 
 cords. My shirt and suspenders had gone for 
 rum. Not knowing anything about Missions, I 
 therefore thought that I would not be received 
 there. I sat down on the platform opposite the 
 Mission, remaining there a large part of the day 
 looking at the door wonderingly. 
 
 "About three o'clock I noticed a large crowd 
 going in, and it was at this time a poor boy 
 came to me and said, 'Old man, you look tired 
 out.' He slipped a nickel in my hand and told 
 me to get something to eat or drink, at the same 
 time urging me to go in the Mission. I did buy 
 a drink, but I did not have the nerve to enter 
 the Mission that night. I walked the streets the 
 same as the night before. I slept part of that 
 night on a Franklin Square truck where I had so 
 often before got rest. It was cold there, and I 
 moved to the steps of the New York Press on 
 Spruce Street. It was there that a fireman came 
 to me from the sub-cellar and gave me a sand- 
 
 155
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 wich, saying that it would do me good I thank 
 God for kindness God had taken me over to 
 Himself. 
 
 "Monday I wandered into City Hall Park, but 
 fearing arrest, went down to South Street again, 
 where I thought I could walk about and forget 
 where I was. That night October pth I en- 
 tered the doors of the dear old Mission, where 
 I was cordially received, and given a seat in the 
 rear of the hall. I listened to the testimonies, 
 and I said to myself, 'These men are telling my 
 own life story.' There were twenty-five or 
 thirty testimonies given. I wondered if it were 
 true that God could save a man in my condition. 
 When the invitation was given to go forward, I 
 did so, and got down on my knees and prayed 
 for the first time in twenty years. I asked God 
 to save me, if it was not too late and oh ! how I 
 thank Him for that moment. 
 
 "When I arose from my knees, the heavy load 
 was gone. I had been born again in a twinkling. 
 I became a new man in Christ Jesus, and from 
 that instant I have not wanted a drink of liquor. 
 I found my Saviour, and immediately Christian 
 friends gave me the assurance that all would 
 be well, and that God would carry me through if 
 I meant business. These dear friends cleaned 
 me up, gave me clothing, and assisted me in 
 securing work. I entered the employ of my good 
 friend Louis A. Lehmaier's printing house as 
 a compositor, and in four months was made su- 
 
 156
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 perintendent of the plant, and am now treasurer 
 of the company which published this book. I 
 am also connected with other large business in- 
 terests. God has helped me marvellously in giving 
 me opportunities to improve myself. Let it be 
 known to all, that through the power of prayer 
 I am a redeemed drunkard. The blood of Jesus 
 Christ did it. Oh, I've been wonderfully blessed 
 in many ways. God has given me back my wife, 
 home, other dear ones and a host of friends. He 
 has vouchsafed me a standing among good men, 
 and to-day I enjoy everything that a man should 
 desire. He has taught me how to live a Christian 
 life. God has done it all." 
 
 Such were the friends that rallied around me, 
 and they made the bearing of the cross as light 
 as it might be. A great, hardly realizable change 
 came over me. Once I walked certain New York 
 streets above or below the "dead line" with a 
 sense of freedom that could be bought from a 
 
 Police Force which had no aversion to tainted 
 money. Yet that freedom was not entirely sep- 
 arate from concern. There was always the un- 
 certainty to be reckoned with. Arrest was not 
 an impossibility. 
 
 Under the new order of my life, I was able 
 to have the freedom of the whole city all of the 
 streets were mine. The "dead line" was no 
 longer a thing to be considered by me, regardless 
 of how much a Nemesis it had been in some 
 periods of my life. For, I had become a free 
 
 157
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 man in Christ, and the streets were free to me 
 in the brightest hour of the day, or the blackest 
 hour of the night. There was none to molest, 
 none to disturb me. I had paid the "price" 
 God's "price" with the gain all on my side, so 
 wonderful is his mercy and loving-kindness. The 
 gift of my wicked heart was all, everything He 
 required of me. Such was the plan of His glo- 
 rious salvation, such was the "price" I had paid, 
 and such was the degree of His boundless com- 
 passion. 
 
 For the "price" he asked me to pay there 
 were privileges multiplied to me beyond all 
 human conception and computation. 
 
 I learned to dearly love the Mission work and 
 the noble corps of men and women who labored 
 to rescue the lost, arid who placed the value of 
 a soul far beyond the cost of selfish world inter- 
 ests. I came to look upon the soul of the human 
 shipwreck on the shores of time as a priceless 
 gem that would eventually find its setting in 
 the crown of glory of my Master, if I faithfully 
 performed my duty as a servant in Christianity. 
 
 'Whereas I once, in worldliness, schemed to 
 take riches from the rich by stealth, I learned to 
 scheme in the sunlight of my Master's approba- 
 tion for the salvation of men's souls, that they 
 might, with me, escape from eternal damnation. 
 
 With a thousandfold greater fervency than I 
 possessed in the service of the god of Mammon, I 
 labored to make myself an influence for good. 
 
 158
 
 
 Underwood Sf Underwood 
 
 A Christmas scene in the McAuley Mission, No. 316 Water Street
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 In the McAuley Mission I did not deny the 
 sinfulness that recorded against me almost a 
 lifetime spent as an enemy of God. In Old John 
 Street Church, the church of my membership, 
 where I came in contact with Christians in all 
 walks and conditions of life, I endeavored to live 
 what I was a great, notorious sinner, who had 
 been saved from an awful fate of his own crea- 
 tion. 
 
 Both in the Church and the Mission, I found 
 the peace which my hitherto barren life craved, 
 the solace for which my increasing years yearned, 
 as a thirsty soil would drink in the warmth of a 
 torrid summer's first rain. In the Mission I 
 came in contact with all kinds of people from 
 every country and every clime. Indeed, it was 
 not an uncommon occurrence to have several 
 different countries represented at a Mission meet- 
 ing, and often the millionaire and millionairess 
 touched elbows with a poor fallen Christ-seeking 
 man or woman of the lowest stratum of human 
 existence each one on his or her knees, humbly 
 uttering the same universal prayer, "Lord, be 
 merciful to me, a sinner, for Jesus' sake." 
 
 When the final trumpet shall proclaim to all 
 the hosts of ten thousand worlds that the Judg- 
 ment Day has come, and each one of the vast 
 untold millions of the faithful shall stand in 
 immaculate robes before the White Throne, to 
 hear the commendation of the Infinite One, "Well 
 done, good and faithful servant," I doubt not 
 
 159
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 that the simple, earnest soul who unselfishly 
 labored in the Water Street Mission, to uplift 
 from the slums the wallowing drunkard and the 
 polluted woman outcast, will receive a crown of 
 glory, whose gems shall reflect the splendors of 
 the sun of the day, and the soft brilliance of the 
 stars of the night, while the angels and the 
 redeemed ones sing in a mighty, swelling chorus 
 to the harmony of countless harps and timbrels, 
 the song of the triumph of righteousness, resur- 
 rection and eternal life, over vanquished sin, 
 death, and oblivion in the grave. 
 
 160
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE PENALTY. 
 
 When man violates the laws of nature he incurs 
 a debt that must be paid. The greater the viola- 
 tion, the greater the payment its fulness being 
 the premature grave usually. 
 
 Transgress the laws of God and remain unre- 
 pentant until the race of life is finished, and the 
 penalty is the eternal loss of the soul. These debts 
 must and shall be paid. This is as certain and 
 irrevocable as it is true that God exists, and will 
 mercifully exchange pardon for repentance, even 
 unto the eleventh hour. 
 
 Of repentance, thanks be to His name, I can 
 speak as one with authority. Of pardon I am 
 informed, for I have the unmistakable joyous 
 assurance of it. I possess an abiding conscious- 
 ness of a full pardon that is incontestable. It 
 was acquired through the unerring language of 
 the Omnipotent to the understanding soul. 
 
 How my heart thrills with the joy of that 
 understanding. And, again, how it is affrighted 
 at times, with the knowledge of a miraculous 
 escape from the guilt of the unpardonable sin 
 a repentance almost beyond the pale of pardon. 
 And then the fear vanishes, while a still, small 
 voice whispers encouragingly : 
 
 "Fear not, for I will be with thee always." 
 
 161
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 But in this blessed security I have often medi- 
 tated over the fate of those with whom I asso- 
 ciated in my criminal career. Most of them, alas, 
 are dead, having passed out of this life, so I 
 have been informed, without having made their 
 peace with God. A few of them yet live, and my 
 daily prayer has been and will be while there is 
 yet hope, that these may realize the error of their 
 ways, and hear the voice of pardon, ere it be too 
 late. 
 
 As I dwell in the realm of retrospection, the 
 forms of these men who figured so tragically in 
 my life pass along, one after another. My heart 
 grows heavy as I view the parade of human souls, 
 surrounding whom there is so much uncertainty 
 as to their standing in eternity. Some of them 
 showed me no brotherly love, while others drifted 
 along in the same zone of wickedness with me. 
 In regard to these latter, there is no doubt that 
 I failed in my duty to them, and because of it 
 I shall ever be filled with the deepest regret. Oh, 
 that I had heard and heeded God's call sooner, 
 that I might have repented of my sins, and in 
 consequence have been of more use in the world. 
 
 Herbert T. Bellows presents the most sorrow- 
 ful picture of the regrettable past that looms up 
 vividly before me. I have told much of him in 
 "From Boniface to Bank Burglar." If it be pos- 
 sible for me to stand at the bar of God with him, 
 I shall be glad. The news I want to hear is, that 
 he died a true Christian, even as I now hope to 
 
 162
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 do. It will be glad tidings of great joy, for 
 which my heart will sing amen and amen. But 
 if he is unsaved even at so tardy a day, I will 
 plead in the name of Jesus that none of the evil 
 he wrought in my life be charged against him 
 beyond forgiveness. Though Herbert Bellows 
 did strike a blow that changed the whole tenor of 
 my early life, there is no hardness in my heart 
 for him. And though I was driven into the 
 shadowy road of crime as the result of his perse- 
 cutions together with my own weakness to which 
 I humbly confess, my heart throbs with sorrow 
 for him. 
 
 It shall not be charged by me that Herbert Bel- 
 lows was punished on earth for his sins. Of that 
 no man should set himself up as a judge. But it 
 is a fact that he was, in his lifetime, possessed 
 of many friends, integrity, large wealth, of great 
 political power, and at his death was hopelessly 
 friendless, irretrievably discredited, in grinding 
 poverty, and wholly abandoned by all men. His 
 very last hours were passed in a dismal room, 
 cold for the want of fuel, and dark because there 
 were no pennies in the family purse to buy oil. 
 In bare truth, he filled a pauper's grave. 
 
 When the Judgment Day shall have come, and 
 we are all arraigned before the Great Judge, I 
 yearn to be near Herbert Bellows and whisper in 
 his ear, "Herbert, you did not realize what you 
 were doing in those days. Can you forgive me 
 for the bitterness I harbored for you? God has 
 
 163
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 cancelled that note of sin for me, and satisfied the 
 judgment thereof." 
 
 Next in the procession before me, I can see 
 F. F. Lane. He was the District Attorney of 
 Cheshire County, New Hampshire, and prose- 
 cuted the indictment that blasted my young life. 
 Lane was Herbert Bellows' friend, and did his 
 bidding to the utmost. I am wondering what 
 excuse F. F. Lane will offer on the Judgment 
 Day for the part he took in the transaction that 
 involved the fair name of my noble father and 
 loving mother, and brought dishonor upon their 
 son. What will he say when the indictment 
 "Hypocrite" is read from the Recording Angel's 
 book of dark recollections? Will he plead in the 
 fulness of a contrite, regenerate soul, "Lord, 
 Thou knowest I posed in Thy Church before the 
 people on earth as a proud, upright man of God, 
 and set a goodly example in the eyes of my 
 fellow-men, even while I was, in secret, abetting 
 infamy, prosecuting and persecuting innocence, 
 and accepting bribes from polluted hands, and 
 yet, Thou, God, didst forgive me wholly in the 
 hour of true repentance for it all, glory be to Thy 
 name." 
 
 Aye, in the last day, the crack of doom, such a 
 plea from F. F. Lane, the lawyer of Keene, New 
 Hampshire, will fill my heart with thanksgiving, 
 for the horror of an eternity of torment in one's 
 soul can only be understood by the Omnipotent 
 conception. If I found it difficult to forgive F. F. 
 
 164
 
 
 
 N 
 
 o 
 
 3 
 
 5 
 <7> 
 
 TJ 
 
 -S s 
 
 3 
 
 - 
 
 
 Facsimile of the Pardon granted to Mr. White by Theodore Roosevelt, 
 as Governor of New York State
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Lane, I would question the validity of my peace 
 with God. No, no, no ! I have diligently searched 
 my heart and in it there is no resentment, and I 
 do forgive him fully and freely, as it behooves 
 me to do, who knows what it is to have a sinful 
 life washed clean by the blood of Jesus Christ. 
 
 In penning "From Boniface to Bank Burglar" 
 I demonstrated what the life of a law breaker is, 
 veneered with allurements. There was put for- 
 ward the brightest side of a man's life given 
 over t'o crime. One having read the various 
 chapters of veracious and vivid experiences, be- 
 comes unconsciously sympathetic. At the outset 
 my readers grasped the awfulness of the wrongs 
 I suffered, and I won their profound pity. And 
 then they marvelled not in the least, when re- 
 venge stormed my heart and bitterness filled my 
 soul. 
 
 When I escaped from persecutions, these same 
 sympathetic and unmarvelling ones lifted their 
 heads high with broad approval. Free from 
 durance, penniless in a great city, and in danger 
 of betrayal back into the clutches of the enemy,' 
 these friendly followers of my unfortunate career 
 gasped in dismay when I robbed the first bank 
 under their very eyes, and regained in booty 
 an amount more than equal to all I had been 
 defrauded of. Shocked that I had become a 
 thief, yet they condoned the crime, and forgave 
 the criminal, knowing the magnitude of his 
 wrongs. 
 
 165
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Following me, faithfully, they fathomed my 
 new motive. Having regained my stolen fortune, 
 the new motive was to steal from the rich, who 
 could afford to lose, and never to exact from the 
 poor what must further impoverish them. In 
 this I gained more sympathy from the observers 
 of my fortunes. And, as I rapidly progressed in 
 the highway of crime, which grew broader and 
 broader as my experience lengthened and cor- 
 respondingly multiplied my golden returns, these 
 sympathizers, presently, came to be admirers of 
 my skill. 
 
 When my carefully prepared schemes, involv- 
 ing months of labor and small fortunes to com- 
 plete them, failed to net me millions, their regrets 
 were as poignant as mine. When I corrupted 
 young bank clerks and watchmen of banks, as 
 tools in looting vaults and safes, and gained hun- 
 dreds of thousands, these same admirers gloated 
 with me, and applauded my genius as a burglar. 
 If, again, I adroitly escaped the penalty for a 
 crime by evading the officers of the law, or bribed 
 the police, these friends, in their gladness, un- 
 consciously lost sight of the crime, and glorified 
 the skill of the one who could vanquish the law. 
 When justice triumphed in my capture, and my 
 penalty fated me to a Prison-Cell, these perusers 
 of my chronicle were as gloomy and disconsolate 
 as I, under restraint, cursed the fate that cut me 
 off, temporarily, from the pursuit of conquest and 
 pelf. 
 
 166
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 And so I was able to control the minds of these 
 readers to the end of the final chapter, mindful 
 the while of the dual objects to be attained. One 
 was the seeking of a means to justify my plunge 
 into crime, the other the weaving of a frail 
 fabric of criminal achievement, with all of the 
 superficial allurements possible, that it's ultimate 
 rending might disclose to the reader the hellish- 
 ness it secreted, and the penalty that must, inev- 
 itably, be paid by the adherent of crime. 
 
 The former object, I did attain, but in such a 
 degree that I have repented of it. The bitterness 
 of my soul, as it pondered over the wrongs of 
 earlier days, expanded beyond the bounds of 
 Christian forbearance, and in attaining that 
 object, the good was overshadowed by the ag- 
 grandizement of self. 
 
 My failure, in this regard, was so signal that 
 I humbly petitioned God to use it as an instru- 
 ment for good, poor, weak thing that it was. 
 
 But, in vivifying the allurements of the bur- 
 glar-craft, I feel that I have been unusually suc- 
 cessful. I have glorified crime, and the criminal 
 may it demonstrate ever so forcefully how hellish 
 is crime, and how tremendous is the descending 
 crash of the criminal. For "The way of the trans- 
 gressor is hard," and "The wages of sin is death." 
 
 Sin is death to all that is good here on earth, 
 and if unrepented of, a living death in eternity. 
 It robs the body and ruins the life, sets a-tremble 
 the stoutest heart, and besets the soul with an 
 
 167
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ever present, aching fear of an unknown, unde- 
 fined something that haunt's man with the per- 
 sistence of his shadow. 
 
 I have blazoned my career of crime, and may 
 the penalty I paid be the more surely grasped 
 and profited by. What my transgressions netted 
 me is only an example of the profit that must 
 come to all transgressors of whatever degree. 
 
 Again, I must not be accused of judging the 
 acts of my fellow-men as individuals, nor of 
 saying that what befell them on earth is a just 
 penalty. That is, as I have already tried to 
 explain, a prerogative of Divinity. In relating 
 what befell men more or less associated with me 
 in the past, I but state facts. If these facts be- 
 speak a penalty, then let God be the judge. It 
 is for us to recognize the truth, and direct our 
 lives accordingly. I do repeat, in the light of 
 wide experience, and in all solemnity, that "The 
 way of the transgressor is hard," and should 
 be avoided. 
 
 As I look over the procession of evil men who 
 figured in my life, it is to compile a long list of 
 lamentable failures, climaxed by death, in which 
 example seemed to justify the Scriptural teach- 
 ing, that it does not profit a man, if he gain the 
 whole world, and in the end lose his immortal 
 soul. 
 
 I have in mind my old associate Mark Shin- 
 burn, or Baron Schoenbirn, as the police records 
 have described him. Through his unconscious 
 
 168
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 aid I was involved in crime, as my preceding 
 book relates. That was more than forty years 
 ago. He escaped at the time from a ten-year 
 term in the Concord State Prison of New Hamp- 
 shire. To-day, after many intervening years, he 
 is in a Cell at Concord paying the penalty of a 
 crime committed in 1864. 
 
 As I write, he is an unrepentant, tottering, 
 friendless old man on the verge of the grave, 
 threatening to beat out his brains on the bars or 
 walls of his Cell. May God reach his hard 
 heart before it is too late. 
 
 Shinburn was a multi-millionaire when wd 
 dissolved our partnership in crime in 1869. He 
 went to Frankfort-on-the-Main in Germany, and 
 bought a large estate, and the title of Baron. But 
 he lost the fortune gained in crime, and, return- 
 ing to the old life, became involved with the law, 
 resulting in his recapture and incarceration in his 
 declining years. 
 
 James Cummings, who was associated with 
 him in that early crime, died years later in pov- 
 erty and unregretted. 
 
 William Meagher, or Billy Matthews, as he is 
 known in my book, who was a friend of Shin- 
 burn's, and later of myself, accumulated consider- 
 able money as a gambler and accomplice of 
 thieves. He, too, lost all, and when old age was 
 pressing hard, descended to the bookmaker's stall 
 at racing paddocks, for a precarious existence. 
 Health failing him, he was sent to Hot Springs, 
 
 169
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Arkansas, by his gambler friends. Death claimed 
 him in the early part of 1906. These same gam- 
 bler friends stood between him and a numbered 
 grave on Hart's Island, the Potter's Field of N. Y. 
 
 No less sad and impressive was the early de- 
 parture of others I knew through long personal 
 acquaintanceship. Jim Burns, who, with "The 
 Congressman," stole $20,000 from the Treasury 
 Department at Washington, D. C, became piti- 
 fully poor, and in great despondency in Paris 
 ended his life with a bullet. "The Congressman," 
 though never arrested for his participation in the 
 crime, was avoided by all good men, and died in 
 poverty. 
 
 Jim Griffin, the famous bank sneak, who 
 figured in one of my biggest robberies, died in 
 destitution while a prisoner in a Police Station 
 at Newark, New Jersey. 
 
 George Wilkes, who was a king among for- 
 gers, a living exponent of the theory of "honor 
 among thieves," squandered fortunes, and filled 
 a grave provided by charity. 
 
 "Tall Jim" was one of my closest associates in 
 crime. He is yet alive and was unrepentant the 
 last time I saw or heard of him. As a practicing 
 physician in a middle Western State, he had 
 attained renown, wealth, and a beautiful, confid- 
 ing wife, who has no knowledge of his criminal 
 past. In New York State he has relatives of 
 affluence, but he never visits or communicates 
 with them. It is as though he were dead. 
 
 170
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 I have it on excellent authority that his life is 
 a continnual nightmare of apprehension. Retri- 
 bution personified meets him in giant shapes, at 
 dawn, in the noontime, at twilight, and in the 
 midnight hour. Once, he did murder. A guar- 
 dian of the law stood between him in the Cell 
 and freedom. The death blow was dealt. Now 
 the fear that the law will find him out conjures 
 the unexpected rustle of a leaf, or the whistle of 
 the wind, into giants of terror. Though these 
 haunting spectres render him a cringing coward, 
 yet more awful is the constant dread that the 
 trusting, unsuspecting wife, whom he loves to 
 madness, will hear the truth, and know him as 
 "Tall Jim" the Murderer. 
 
 Still another dread storms his soul, and is ever 
 whispering in his frightened ears, "Beware!" 
 The officials of Sing Sing Prison want him, and 
 would tear him away from the companionship of 
 his beloved wife, if they but knew where to find 
 him "Tall Jim," who owes the larger part of a 
 sentence for burglary committed more than a 
 score and a half years ago. 
 
 All these secrets he has buried in his bosom. 
 How great must be the burden thus borne in 
 secret. How horrible to bear it alone, to live 
 another life separate from that of his adored 
 wife, and of which life he would not have her a 
 part for all the wealth of combined worlds. 
 
 And unrepentant "Tall Jim," the accomplished 
 gentleman, physician, the murderer, the fugitive 
 
 171
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 from justice, the deceiver of a noble woman, 
 surrounded by wealth, petted by society, which 
 believes him to be all he appears to be, lives on 
 tormented by a dread so horrible that it must be 
 indescribable. 
 
 Oh God ! if it be that this man is now paying 
 the penalty for his misdeeds, how great must the 
 price be. I would that "Tall Jim" were of a 
 mind to cast the awful burden upon the all-sus- 
 taining Power. But would that entail a full 
 confession of his sins to the whole world? This 
 question I have asked of myself times innumer- 
 able. Perhaps so. But the world, the law and 
 those administering it what would they all say, 
 or do ? Forgive him ? Nay, nay, nay ! The world 
 would cry out in horror, and recede yet further 
 in its robe of self-righteousness. And what of 
 the law of man? Adamant, it would claim its 
 due. Inexorable, it would rightfully gather in 
 the victim who offended it. There would be no 
 deviation that a woman's heart might remain 
 undisturbed in its supreme love and wifely 
 trust, or that her sweet dignity might not be 
 brought low in the dust of a blighting, withering 
 shame. All that lofty sentiment which appeals 
 to the souls of those bathed in the milk of human 
 kindness, and dwellers in the realm of pity, 
 would be crushed low by the wheels of the swift 
 moving chariot of justice. 
 
 But what of God ? Would He lend a listening 
 ear to "Tall Jim's" secret prayer, the laying bare 
 
 172
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 of his sinful soul, and lavish on him the peace that 
 passeth all understanding, which is the fruit of 
 Divine forgiveness? 
 
 It is not for me to know that is a problem to 
 be solved between God and "Tall Jim." How 
 could I, so great a sinner, know? Nor dare I 
 to assume to judge "Tall Jim" for his criminal 
 deeds. If I dared to attempt to pass judgment 
 upon him, my humiliation would be complete. For 
 how manifold were my transgressions against 
 God and his Divine law. Unlike "Tall Jim," I 
 never took the life of man, but in the desperate 
 calling in which I was engaged, it might have 
 happened. Inadvertently, as I trust it was in his 
 experience, I might have shed blood. Thanks be 
 to His holy name and mercy, my soul was not 
 thus weighted. But what more could I say to 
 justify myself if I would? Not an iota. I bow 
 my head in shame, and only lift it at the word 
 of my Lord and Master, who has bidden me to 
 look and live. 
 
 Now that I have cast myself fully on the lov- 
 ing kindness of the Redeemer, the dark clouds 
 that hung so threateningly over me have been 
 dissipated by the warm sunshine of Divine ap- 
 proval. I am traveling on a highway that leads 
 to real peace and happiness Heavenward, and 
 not to perdition. What this nearly diametrical al- 
 tering of my course has meted me, is too great for 
 mere language to accurately and adequately por- 
 tray. Whereas all was darkness and uncer- 
 
 173
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 tainty, there is open before me a well-defined, 
 perfectly illuminated Christian vista, whose ten- 
 dency is ever upward and away from the low- 
 lands of sin inhabited by the cohorts of Giant 
 Despair. 
 
 While this highway of the mountain surely 
 leads to God I am mindful of its narrowness and 
 difficult windings, and how, to my shame, I 
 have slipped to the wayside, struggled up again, 
 fallen again and doggedly pressed onward, ac- 
 quiring, through bitter experience, the knowledge 
 that I must be eternally vigilant, must be ever 
 armed with an unwavering faith, and an unalter- 
 able belief in the efficacy of prayer, if I eventually 
 possess the everlasting Crown of Righteousness. 
 
 Each day's travel renders the journey easier, 
 puts greater distance between me and the dis- 
 carded burden of sin, and fits me to better tell 
 of the joys of the new life, to those who yet 
 pursue the ignis fatuus, which is dazzling them 
 onward and downward into the quicksands of 
 procrastination, where are heard the wailings of 
 the hopeless and the lost, whose vain regrets are 
 voiced in the awful significance of : 
 
 "What might have been." 
 
 Oh, would I were able to tell all that' God has 
 done for me. I would shout it from the highest 
 mountain tops so that all might hear, know and 
 be saved. I would I were endowed with a gift 
 to paint a vivid picture of my black life, and yet 
 another one of the different man, regenerated 
 
 174
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 through the blood of Jesus Christ the Saviour. 
 In one picture I would point out the weary, 
 friendless, almost crippled old man, loaded with 
 his unmanageable pack of sin. He would be seen 
 slowly tottering along toward the inevitable 
 grave, his weary body trembling, and his ashen 
 face reflecting his hopelessness in a fate believed 
 to have been irrevocably fixed. 
 
 I would that I were endowed with the power 
 to show the helping hand of God outstretched 
 toward this aged man, who, realizing his last 
 chance for salvation, would cry out, "Lord, Lord, 
 I believe!" 
 
 See ! The great pack of sin then rolls from his 
 pitifully bent and decrepit old shoulders. The 
 pain-inflicting shackles, clanking, fall from his 
 feet, and he stands erect, another, a newer man. 
 His face, which was, but a moment before, a 
 mere mask of death, lights up with the glory of 
 a soul illumined of God. In the place of repining 
 and hopelessness, there is new-born joy and 
 laughter. Eyes once dull and watery, snap with 
 the fire of regeneration, and hitherto faltering, un- 
 musical lips sing loud pseans of praise. With 
 buoyant feet and flinging arrris the inspired soul 
 bounds along in the highway of God, beckoning 
 wildly for his fellows, still in the bondage of sin, 
 to hasten on and join him in his belief in Jesus, 
 Who is willing and anxious to save them. 
 
 Aye, in such straits God found me. I was 
 spiritually blind, and He gave me sight. I was 
 
 175
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 lame and halt, plodding along in the broad road 
 of sin, and God set me on my feet, and bade me 
 run in the King's Highway of Righteousness. 
 
 Come out of the ranks of sin, oh, fellow-man, 
 and believe in the Redeemer as I believe in him. 
 Escape from the awful, the final penalty, as I 
 have escaped, before it is everlastingly too late. 
 THE END. 
 
 176
 
 Joseph J. Rafter, the Redeemed Printer
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 Nearly eighteen months have passed since the 
 death of the honored and much loved Superin- 
 tendent Samuel Hopkins Hadley, and the ap- 
 pointment of John H. Wyburn to the office of 
 Superintendent of the McAuley Water Street 
 Mission. It was at Mr. Hadley's earnest re- 
 quest a request that came a few days prior to 
 his death, that his mantle fall upon the trained 
 and able shoulders of the man with whom he had 
 long been associated. At the time of the earthly 
 departing of Mr. Hadley, John H. Wyburn had 
 been converted seventeen years, and the greater 
 part of that period had been spent with Mr. Had- 
 ley in Mission work in the McAuley Mission. 
 
 What Mr. Hadley thought of Mr. Wyburn, as 
 his successor in this peculiar labor for the Lord, 
 has been related in detail in several pages pre- 
 ceding this afterthought, and it is not necessary 
 to reiterate it at this time. Thousands know 
 Mr. Wyburn, and tens of thousands have heard 
 of him and his work. As a Rescue-worker, as 
 a man of faith, of prayer, tenderness in love, 
 patience, forbearance, pity and long-suffering in 
 treating with the erring, John H. Wyburn is the 
 equal of any man living. And it is not surprising 
 that it is so, when the years he spent in the work
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 with that Prince of Rescue-workers, Mr. Hadley, 
 are taken into consideration. 
 
 In the past months the work of the Mission 
 has progressed wondrously, under the watchful 
 and prayerful effort of the beloved Superintend- 
 ent. The interest in the diligent reaching out after 
 weary souls lost in sin, has increased greatly, 
 and the testimonies from Converts in earnest of 
 it, have been unusually stamped with sincerity 
 and have been profoundly convincing. All this 
 happy fruition, has been the result of a largely 
 increased attendance at the nightly meetings. Of 
 those saved from sin very recently, many have 
 proved themselves to be remarkably bright, and 
 evinced a capability highly gratifying to the 
 devout workers of the Mission. They have been 
 aided and given food, shelter, and clothing, until 
 in a position to help themselves. A large per- 
 centage of these have secured profitable employ- 
 ment, having exemplified the truth of the words, 
 "They sought first the Kingdom of God." These 
 new Converts were so enthused over their deliv- 
 erance from a lost condition, that they have, 
 ever since, been telling their friends to resort to 
 the same remedy to cure their ills. 
 
 Thus the work of the Mission, for the past 
 months, has been one perpetual revival. Its force 
 of laborers has been largely increased through 
 the rending of the chains of drunkenness and 
 kindred evils, and these men happily free, stand
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 ready to go anywhere to tell the story of deliver- 
 ance the story of how Christ Jesus proclaims 
 liberty for the captive, and how he stands ready 
 and anxious to save. 
 
 How to furnish employment for the Mission's 
 Converts, has always been a problem for serious 
 consideration. A partial solution of it came, 
 happily, through the suggestion of Mr. Joseph 
 J. Rafter, that a printing and binding company 
 be established whose employes should be drawn 
 from the Converts of the Mission, in so far as 
 they could be utilized to promote the success of the 
 enterprise. The suggestion met with the instant 
 approval of Superintendent Wyburn. Mr. Raf- 
 ter, being a printer of national reputation, at 
 once became an important factor in the work of 
 creating a printing company on the lines men- 
 tioned. His renown as an artisan in his profes- 
 sion, peculiarly fitted him into the plan which 
 soon became a verity. Working in perfect uni- 
 son these energetic Converts of the Mission, soon 
 established the Seaboard Press with Lee L. Crit- 
 tenden as president, for the purpose of doing 
 general printing. Subsequently it was decided 
 to add book publishing to the enterprise and a 
 separate comjpany was organized under the head 
 of the Seaboard Publishing Company, of which 
 John H. Wyburn was made president. Both 
 institutions were incorporated under the laws 
 of New York State, and are now thoroughly
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 equipped with the most modern requirements of 
 the trade, including- a Linotype Department. As 
 contemplated, a number of the Mission's Con- 
 verts are being furnished with employment, and 
 as rapidly as others become available through 
 knowledge of what is required of them, they will 
 be added to the working force. Thus far the 
 Converts have found no small degree of assist- 
 ance in starting out in the Christian life, and it 
 is the earnest desire of the projectors of these 
 companies to create employment for as many 
 struggling ones who are young in the espousal 
 of Christianity as possible. To realize this laud- 
 able end, the Seaboard Press and the Seaboard 
 Publishing Company must expand their plants 
 so that they can employ hundreds of hands. Suc- 
 cess of course depends upon the quality of work 
 turned out, and as orders are multiplying daily, 
 the prospect of a largely increased business in the 
 very near future is highly gratifying in whatever 
 aspect the enterprise is regarded. 
 
 Mr. John S. Huyler, philanthropist and presi- 
 dent of the Mission believed in the enterprise 
 from its inception and came to its assistance 
 financially. Consequently the success hoped for 
 seems absolutely assured. . 
 
 At the present time the Seaboard Press is turn- 
 ing out all kinds of modern printing. It makes 
 a specialty of personal embossed stationery, 
 cards, etc., also Church calendars, invitation
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 cards, and, in fact everything required by 
 Churches and Christian workers. Christian 
 friends and all others are invited to inspect the 
 plants. Also, if they have work to be done, Mr. 
 Rafter, the chief of the Estimating Department, 
 will be glad to furnish estimates on short notice. 
 
 With Mr. Rafter is Lee Crittenden, also widely 
 known in the printing profession. It can be de- 
 pended upon that first class work in every particu- 
 lar will be the result of every order received. 
 
 The Seaboard Publishing Company has pub- 
 lished several books, and others are in 
 press. Among these are " From 'Boniface to 
 Bank Burglar," and "The Penalty and Redemp- 
 tion." As a work of art in the printing line, 
 the latter easily leads the list, as an examination 
 of its pages will reveal. 
 
 Mr. Rafter was also a member of the editorial 
 staff of the Inland Printer of Chicago. The edi- 
 tor says : 
 
 "Estimating has come to be a very important 
 factor in the printing business. One must under- 
 stand the work thoroughly to intelligently make 
 a price that will be profitable to the employer and 
 at same time give the customer the benefit of 
 experience and knowledge of the art. We have 
 been fortunate in securing the services of Mr. 
 Jos. J. Rafter who is one of our foremost printers, 
 to conduct this department, one of the most im- 
 portant of the paper. We have many times been
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 delighted in looking over samples of his work 
 when at the case. He is a practical compositor, 
 pressman and lithographer, and has been con- 
 nected with some of our largest concerns as super- 
 intendent or manager. Printers and others are 
 invited to make use of this department. You will 
 find Mr. Rafter ever ready to give any and all 
 information requested." 
 
 GEORGE M. WHITE.
 
 Penalty ana Redemption 
 
 FROM BONIFACE TO 
 |i| BANK BURGLAR 
 
 OR 
 
 THE PRICE OF PERSECUTION 
 
 HOW A SUCCESSFUL BUSINESS MAN, THROUGH 
 
 THE MISCARRIAGE OF JUSTICE, BECAME 
 
 A NOTORIOUS BANK LOOTER 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE M. WHITE 
 
 ALIAS GEORGE BLISS 
 
 Special Price to Missions 
 $1.00 net 
 
 At all Booksellers $1.50
 
 Penalty and Redemption 
 
 NO. 275 WATER STREET 
 
 ZIBELL BUILDING 
 
 N EW YORK 
 
 This concern was organized by convert's of the 
 Water Street Mission, with the object of giving 
 men a start in life, and helping them to help 
 themselves, and to date has been successful be- 
 yond expectations. 
 
 At' present the company employs many con- 
 verts permanently, and as many others as are 
 required for miscellaneous duty. 
 
 Of the officers, there are converts who owe 
 their present condition in life to the influences 
 coming from the Mission and its officers. 
 
 Our plant is fully equipped, in perfect' working 
 order, and we solicit printing of every descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 Should you care to favor us with a portion of 
 your work we shall be pleased to hear from you. 
 
 THE SEABOARD PRESS. 
 
 LEE L. CRITTENDEN, President 
 
 JOHN H. WYBURN, Vict-Pre$ident 
 JOS. J. RAFTER, Treasurer 
 RUFUS A. BROWN, JR., Secretary
 
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