The Evening post. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1888-1889, 1888-11-20

Have you ever been locked up in q
police station2 Probably not But IT
you have you know how heavily the
time hangs on your hands.
You count the bricks in the walls You
try to sleep, and probably cant. You
think about your case, about the charge
against you and your prospect of acquit
tai, until you have thought over its every
phase, and no more distraction can be
got out of IT, All the other prisoners are
asleep, and you become so unutterably
weary and impatientsof the solitude that
you would welcome almost any accident
that would dispcl your WEAKNESS.
While in this state of mind, longing
for anything In the way of distraction,
ready to listen to and talk with anyone,
IL Il is Sunday, you may hear trio
Of female voices, unaccompanlcd by any
instrument, clear and loud in the death
like stiffness of the cell-room, singing the
good old song that perhaps you heard
your mother sing:
Nearer my God to Thee,
Nearer to Thee;
Fen though be cross,
That raiseth me-
Through three stan2as the voices rise
and fall and die away in tender dimin-
uendo, and while you are wondering who
the singers are and you wish that the
singets would continue mingles with
thoughts that reach out through the
barred window opposite your cell and
upwards, pass the stars twinkling softly
through the black night, calm.faced
woman, whose smile is like benedic-
ton, comes and stands in front of the
narrow door to your cell.
She is very plainly dressed-all in
black-and she is probably about the
age your mother was as you remember
her.
~ am sorry to see you here, my friend"
she says in quiet voice.
You wonder why she calls you friend
and the interest she expresses in your
trouble makes you interested in her and
her mission. But you are glad to have
some one to talk to, and so you probably
| tell her why YOU are locked up.
While you are talking she has un'
wrapped little bundle of paper and
holds small printed slip like circular
in her hand as If she intended to give il
to you.
After you finish your story she says
| "Don't you see how foolish and how
wrong you have been in doing as you
have? Don't you know that there is Q
better way to live than this way? There
are hundreds of thousands of happy peo.
pie all about you who are sitting at home
tonight while you are locked up here
And if you had tried TO live the RICH
kind of life, tried to be good man,
man that people would respect and hi
friends love, you wouldn't be here to
night. Don't you wish you had livet
differently"
You tell her that all she says is true
enough but that it is very hard to be the
kind of a man she talks of.
II know it is, but / want to show 20,
an easy way to change from the way yol
are living now. Do you know wher,
the Central Mission rooms are" Yoi
probably don't.
"They are on the Avenue, between
Ninth and Tenth, on the south side.
is big white building. There ar
meetings there every night for peopl
who want to turn from their past live
and begin over again and you will fin,
lots of worse people than you are VIII
have began over again and are now Twin
as God wants everyone to. Would yo
like me to prayT'
You are probably too busy thinking
thinking what you are, what you al
and what you might be, where you ar
and where you might be, and withor
your answering, the quiet figure in blac
Ineels down with her serene forehea
leaning against the bars of your cell doc
and prays few moments, simpl
prayer in which she merely asks he
God to be your God, and watch over yo
in your efforts TO lead different life.
You more than half acquiesce In he
reverent "amen," and then she rise
and hands you the tract she has bee
holding in her hand.
"You will go to the meetings at til
Mission as soon as you get out of YOU
trouble, won't your" she asks as she say
good night" and then with anoth,
hymn the three Central Mission worl
, ers pass quietly out of the cell room an
go to another station-house.
|