The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1896-06-14

weazen, his chin developed a bony point,
his cheeks fell in, his clothes got loose, his
chest collapsed, he began to grow bald.
But he stuck to his piece of meat. His
fellow boarders reveled in smoking soups,
cool salads, pies, buildings, poultry and
game, tea and coffee, but he did not finch.
The odor of it foated UP into his nostrils,
but that was all of it he ever got. The in
terdict did not prohibit smelling, so he
possibly derived some satisfaction from
that, though there must have been large
sized temptation in it. But he went
through the ordeal like a stole. 1t re-
quired incredible nerve, but he had it. To
add to the misery of it all, even fruit, of
which he was passionately fond. was
tabooed. This was hard to bear. Heroes
are made of such stuff.
If he had been one of Priam's soldiers
no wooden horse would ever have reduced
Troy as long as he was within its walls.
He was as grim as a ghost over it, too, and
well he might be, for it was no joke.
never saw him smile nor beard him laugh,
and doubt if anybody else ever did.
When such man starts out to do any
thing he generally does it if it is in the
cards. Boyden conquered the diabetes.
In ten years he was we'll and could eat
icecream, and cucumbers, and welsh rab-
bit, and chocolate creams, and crab salad
and anything else he chose. But he for
bore. He knew when he was we'll off and
he let such things alone. He knew that
meat was his salvation and he stuck to it,
with occasional relaxations in the way of
stale bread or a plain soup.
Every now and then some inspired idiot
makes bet that he can eat a quail at
every meal for q month or two, and he al
ways loses it. In about fortnight his
stomach, aided by his Imagination, re-
volts, and when the quail is set before him
he turns green. But l am firmly con-
vinced that Boyden could have eaten a
quail three times day for year; for as
far as fighting his stomach was concerned
he was a man among men. His like will
probably never be seen again this CEN
fury. Any man can fight another man; it
is no trick at all to be soldier But a
man who can fight his stomach and his
nose at the same time for ten years and
beat them both is monumental. [ would
like to inscribe his virtue in this respect
on polished marble, but | can't afford it.
OF course, it was impossible that such a
man should be like other men. One day
he was walking along the street-Mason
street, l believe-thinking of politics or
stocks, or some such commonplace mat
ter, when, without word of warming
without the slightest premonitory symp-
tom-the grace of God swooped down upon
him like an eagle and converted him to
Christ on the spot. So he told me In his
simple, unaffected way.
at came upon me like a bolt from
heaven" he said. ut was a revelation.
sudden, like an electric shock. was walk
ing along a sinner. The next second was
a Christian. 1t was done for mel had no
hand in tin the twinkling of an eve. 1t
was the grace of God flooding my heart.
Then and there became converted"
! No halfway measures satisfied Bovden.
The ordinary man requires redhot re-
vival to bring him to his spiritual senses.
but Boyden landed there with both feet in
his own unique way. Having become con-
verified he made Decline for the Salvation
Army barracks and enlisted on the spot.
| was going down to THE CALL Office one
raw evening when the first squad of Saliva
ton soldiers / had ever seen came poking
along up Sacramento street in the fog.
There were only six of them. They paused
in front of the What Cheer House to fire
a volley and sing one of their old-time
halleIujah hymns, and I stopped to look
on. Five of them were ruddy-faced, Saxon
haired young Englishmen with drum,
tambourine and triangle. Before them
marched lean, little old man with long
beard, carrying a transparency announc-
ing that the whole town was invited to at
tend meeting of the Salvation Army at
headquarters that evening. 1t was
Boyden.
There he was in his red shirt and belt
with his Russian cap, red-banded and con-
spicuous, charged to the muzzle with Sal
walton zeal. He could not sing and he
was too old to shout, but he carried his
transparency with a great, OVERLOOKING
pride wonderful to contemplate. No trihes
like these could intimidate a man who
had eaten 10,950 beefsteaks one after an
other with nothing in between.
This remarkable man did another Pc
cuIiar thing. According to common re-