Los Angeles herald., 1892-11-04
TALKS WITH A BRUSH
AN ECCENTRIC OLD EVANGELIST OF
WEsTcHEsTER, N. Y.

Winter and Summer He wanders Along
the Roads Painting Scripture Texts on
Bowlders-Nothing Deters Him-Pas-
sive When Violence Is Used.
Who is the mysterious paint brush
evangelist of Westchester county, Up
and down the beautiful hills and along
the rugged, rocky roads of Westchester
for mile after mile his work can be
seen. The wayfarer cannot escape it,
At every fresh turn in the road the
painted words of warning confront him.
Even the most ungodly sinner in all
New York, after walking a mile from
the little village of White Plains, would
think he was surely on the rocky road
to the New Jerusalem.
Up in Westchester they call the mys-
terious evangelist the Scripture Sling
er," and they say che sings it powerful
thick" So he does, and with discrimi-
nation rare, in paint of the hue of heav-
ems own blue, mixed in oil.
All along those rocky roads the fences
are made of huge powders, out of
which rough walls are made, separat-
ing the pastures and bounding the road
sides. Besides there are still other
bowlders jutting out of the soil along
the roadway. On these, and ON the
stone fences, the mysterious evangelist
unfolds his warnings. He is little
man, but energetic. He is silent man,
except with his brush, made out of hairs
plucked from the necks Of oxen. With
1t he speaks. His only name is George"
He marches, a Salvation Army of one
man, carrying bugle to announce his
coming. His sandy mustache bristles,
and the lines of his face show sixty
years. There hangs upon his head an
old straw hat, summer and winter, and
on the hat is broad ribbon, bearing the
legend, "Jesus is mighty to save" A
cane, carved with innumerable inscrip-
tions, helps him over the hills as he
marches on, carrying the battered hand
bag in which repose his restless brush,
his pot Of paint, his Bible and other little
things, such as comb and cake of soap.
through the use of which he keeps him.
self only seminomad. They say there
is no vanity in him, nor any glass with
a quicksilver back in that battered bag
AS he marches he spies a rock, big
and brown, half hidden behind clump
of weeds, and on which he left no mes
sage when last along that way. In a
moment the weeds are uprooted, ana
kneeling by the rock he paints, letter by
letter, "O-b-e-y the Lord" Then he
marches on reading the Bible. On
smooth worn bowlder in the stone fence,
he prints, "Repent! Believe! And sin no
more" Across the road he leaves the
warning, "You must repent or go to
hell" A little farther on he kneels
again, and under his brush grow the
words, "The wages for sinners is hell
fire."
There are painted words, though
along the roads more worldly than tLe
ones he leave there. One Of them says,
"Spend your Sundays at Manhattan
beach" On finding this it is said he
bowed his head moment. Then in
deeper shade of blue than usual, mixed
on the spot, he painted right alongside
the words, "Where will you spend
eternity?'
Many of the farmers up in Westchester
take summer boarders, and on big tree
in the front yard each of them nails up
a sign which reads: pheasant summer
home. Board by the day Or week"
Across the road from such as these the
paint brush says, "Think of that beauti-
full home above"
So the strange evangelist goes on.
fighting the world with blue paint, meas
ure for measure, and covering the sur
plus space with admonition, exhortation
and advice.
To him all things are of the world
worldly, and thereforehe knows naught
of politics.
This strange man sleeps by the road
side, in stable or where he may, and
for months eats only what is given
him. Money is nothing to him. For
a little while each year he works on
the Sound View stock farm, owned by
pulls the hair from the necks of oxen
and makes his stock of brushes. His
paint is given him and he mixes it him
self.
He has been told to stop the task of
covering the rocks of Westchester with
blue paint, but he keeps on. By his ac-
ton he says, "Shall man not make his
fellow man refectY'
Township trustees threaten and re-
solve in vain. The notices multiply.
Assaults do not terrify him. Once he
was met by two men near the West
chester fair grounds and commanded
to stop painting sentence he had begun.
He turned his back to them and kept on
without reply. When he had finished
he began new sentence. Then the
men rushed at him and struck him down
senseless with clubs. The unfinished
sentence read:
"Forgive thine
New York Advertiser.
What a Widow Is.