The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1904-03-20
| sA FIELD of strenuous activity the


1,vmn books follows close ON the heels
of the prospector. When a strike is
made and a camp started he is on the
ground almost as soon as the saloon
keeper and the gambler. Often the in
5tia1 church service is held before the
first grand opening of the rumshop.
The pathfinder of the cloth follows
the blaze Of the lumber cruiser into the
deptbs of the redwoods and the forests
of cedar and fir. He races with the Oil
speculator for the latest strike in the
newest oil field. He follows the digger
of irrigation bitches into the arid lands
which the first flow of life giving wa
ter transforms into farms. He craWls
with the railroad builders across the
waterless deserts which are at last
falling into the grasp OF advancing
civilization. And everywhere he goes
he leaves trail of Sunday schools
which will eventually grow into
churches when the camp becomes large
enough and the new town really booms-
A year ago statistician, after care
full study, declared that there were a
quarter of a million boys and girls IN
the West who had no opportunity OF
going to Sunday school or church.
Eastern churchmen who had for years
been contributing generous sums for
the conversion Of the Hottentots and
what-nots were shocked at such
showing in their own country. They
went into their pockets again, and have
made it possible for the church to fol-
low the Kaleidoscope changes of the
restless West.
Any of the many missionaries al
f.o1J tA1l iT1-
teresting incidents Of this strenuous
evangelization. To none, however,
have come more experiences than to
the Rev. Arthur Hicks, who has charge
of the work Of the Presbyterian board
of Sabbath school work, under the di-
rection of Rev. DR.. James r. Worden,
of Philadelphia. His field includes
every county of California and Nevada,
and each year he covers from 10000 to
$4,000 miles by stage, horse or burro
back, canoe, railroad or on foot. He
had just returned from a trip through
the new farming district of Imperial,
in Southern California, where the new
est irrigation bitches have penetrated.
when seen at his home in Oakland.
For incidents Of this missionary
work we are doing" he said, 81 hard
ly know where to begin, they are so
many and varied. Perhaps I had best
tell of a service held in the redWoods
of Fresno county last May, for it was
one Of the most impressive I have ever
witnessed.
'I reached a distant lumber camp one
Saturday morning and looked about for
a place in which to hold services the
next day. An. abandoned dance hall
seemed to be the most available place,
and I set about getting it ready. A
giant redwood had crashed into the
buildings tearing away the roof and
three sides, leaving only one wall in
place. I cleared away the debris and
spread the news among the lumber
men that there would be preaching. A
more perfect Sunday, or week day,
either, have never seen. There was
not rustic of wind to break the in
tense silence of the thick forest all
about the camp. No birds sang, for
there are no birds in the redwoods.
Forty men and one woman appeared
for the service out of the 800 souls the
camp possessed. The others were rest
ing in the bunk houses or longing
about the. saloon a few rods down the
hillside.
"'What shall we sing?' I asked, when
it came time to open the meeting.
"a huge logger, his blue flannel shirt
open at the neck, disclosing massive,
and, holding out his hands, terribly
stained with the peculiar stain Of the
redwood, cried, Let's sing, Throw Out
the Lifeline
LAS the first verse Of, the familiar
hymn rang out over the little clearing
I noticed an activity down at the col
lection of bunk houses and cabins. Men
swarmed out of the saloon and left the
hunks in which they had been idly
- H. ,f1o r,f
groups, and as the song proceeded
off his hat. The example was followed
instantly, and 200 men stood bare
headed listening to the hymn that came
from the nearly demolished dance hall.
AS I began to preach many Of them
crept up within hearing distance, and
from logs and brush piles listened to
the sermon.
when oil was struck at McKittrick,
in the San joaquin valley, not long
since, hurried to the new field as rap
idly as possible. An empty store build
ing was secured as a temporary meet
ing place. From q saloon across the
street borrowed empty boxes, which,
with long planks, made none too COM
Portable seats. Into the end Of the
boxes was burned the advertisements
Of the liquor firm which had sent them
to the camp well filed. As I preached
I could see the brand Of whisky then
being drunk in McKittrick blazing forth
from the end Of every seat. 1t did not
lessen the effect of the service, how
ever, and it was only few weeks until
we had a church Of our own, with whis-
ky boxes barred.
tIn many of the backwoods settle
! ments where we are establishing Sun
day schools which may grow into
churches later on we meet with chill
dren who have never even heard of
God except in the curses Of the rough
men about them.
There was one little boy in small
Nevada town who heard Of the death
Of Christ on his first visit to Sunday
when he reached home he cried bit
| terly and his mother could not COM
| fort him.
was on the Resurrection. He fairly
| dawned upon him that the One for
week had risen from the dead.
| AS soon as he could he rushed home
| to his mother with the glad tidings
! he put it: oh, mamma, didn't Jesus
| fool 'em finer
| up among the big trees of Mari
| posa county, in the depths of the Ser
ras, I was to preach one day at a
school house. 1t was raining in tor
rents, and my guide was for staying
/ indoors. Not wishing to disappoint
| any who might venture out in the
l cfor.Y1a i11giSfnd m <paDiI1g INV an