The Dawson journal., 1886-04-15
SAM JONES' ONLY RIVAL.
Lampasas Jake and Some Specimens
of His 0ratorical Style.
Chicago Tribune.

OF His 0ratorical Style.
Chicago Tribune.
We have all heard Of the new
song, There is :. New Coon in
Town." and there will be nothing
startling in the statement thai
there is q new "evangelist" in the
country. His name is Liam oa-
sas Jake" and he is described as a
cowboy reyivalist." He preach
es in frontier saloons, beginning
with describing his own remarka-
BILE conversion" and then pro-
ceeds to his call for the unoon-
verted. A letter from New Mexi
co describes Jake'a doings as fol-
lows:
cake breaches nothing but re-
pentance and salvation. He lives
off the country, he says. He takes
up no collections and he asks few
favors. He goes we'll armed and
never lays aside his weapons, even
when preaching. He has fights
frequently and he sometimes
brings men to repentance by main
strength. Wherever he finds
three or four cowboys, gamblers,
rustlers or adventurers he begins
his services.
Going into one of the hardest
Of the numerous hard saloons in
this place the other night Jake
mounted a chair and commanded
silence. The games and drinking
cane to an end and about twenty
men, young and old, looked up.
One fellow undertook to edge out,
but Jake stopped him.
I" No, you don't, mister be
said, pointing his finger at him.
NO, you don't. When you get to
hell you'll have chances enough
to come a sneak on somebody, but
you don't do it here Then
Strengthening himself up, he yell
ed in voice that made things
creak:
How many Of you's ready to
die now with your boots on?
Where'd you be to breakfast?
Don't any of you drunken, swear
ing, fighting, disappearing, gamb-
ling, thieving, ,tin-horn cofin-paint
exterminating galoots look at me
ugly, because l know ye. I've
been through the drive. You're
all in your sins. You know a fat,
well-fed, well-cared for, thorough
Unbranded steer when you sec
one, and you can tell whose it is
and where it belongs. There's a
man that owns it. There's place
for it to go. There's q law to
protect it. But the maverick
whose is that? You're all maver-
icks and worse. The maverick
has no brand on him. He goes
bellering about until somebody
takes him in and clasps the brand
ing iron on him. But you whelps,
you've got the devils brand on
you. You've got his lariat about
you. He let's you have rope now,
but he'll haul you in when he
wants frewood.
Some of you can feel the lar
lat now and all you old whiskey
tubs here now can smell the fire.
I'll bet you So you are scared. I'll
bet you $40 you would give some
thing to know that you wouldn't
get cooked. I'll bet you 800 l
can tell you how to escape. Just
you get down on your Knees here
now and yell. That's right; all OF
You down. Won't do it, eh? Well,
you will get down. That's right.
Now, you yell. Cry out for help
like a Texas steer in snow belly
deep.
"'You'1o a nice lot Of rufians,
amt you? You'd look nice galli-
wanting around in heaven, would
not YOU? Wouldn't hell itself
turn pale if it saw you comingf
You can get yourself in condition.
You can mike your hides slick.
There is the grass of salvation
that is green oil the year round.
You can eat Of it and you'll make
flesh from the word go. You can
refuse it n1 you'll grow poor and
miserable till your old hides will
flap on your bones like bedquilt
on q ridge-pole. :"