The Birmingham age-herald., 1916-06-05
A FRONTIER MAN OF GOD

| Boys, the boss is coming over to preach Sunday. and I'd sorter feel good if you fellows closed up during services,
 and come out with your families
 The two men eyed each other curi-
 ously minute and Bill brought his big fist down hard on the table: Damned if I don't do it, parson! What say you, Ike?
 !" I'm in, replied Ike You can't get | the edge on me when it comes to 'ligionl' They were both there, clean shaved and primped up like dandies. Every seat
 was occupied. and the steward made a 1 collection that did him proud. After the
 meeting was over the elder told me he
 had never addressed better behaved and more attentive crowd He added the opinion that the reports of lawless- ness out our way were greatly overrated. | A committee of the best citizens-saloon- keepers, bartenders poker dealers and 1 the like-accompanied him to the depot
 next day. and gave him sendoff that
 would have been an honor to a grand duke Within 10 minutes after his train | had gone the card tables and bars were l in full blast again.
 | Next year I was removed to Wat
 rous, 100 miles away, and only visited Los Cerrilos once month to preach. | One rough night when a melting snow
 was coming down in great sheets I was waiting for the Santa Fe train to take me home. It was late. There was no op- orator in the little station, and no place | to go except the saloons to get warm. The train was somewhere down the line, only the winds and shelterless coyotes
 knowing where. So walked up and
 down the streets shivering. Once when | I passed Bills saloon he spied me. l :" Come in and get warm, parson, he | invited.
 | 1T can't. Bill; you know why | "'Yes, I know! but they shan't bother 1 you; you come in an I'll fix it all right and he grabbed my arm and led me into
 big room where some 30 or 40 cowboys and miners were drinking, playing cards
 and telling yarns Bill rapped loudly 1 on the counter.
 l " Fellers,' he told them, the parsons | laid out by his train what ain't come,
 an he's no place to go 'cept this heah gin palace an poker parlor. He'll sit round an smoke with us an swap tales 1 the right sort, you understand-but thar'u be no drink sold over this bar an no cyards played till his keers come long He's our guest-Parson Wheeler, gentlemen
 1 Not a man protested. was &C.,
 quainted with most of them and soon had
 made friends with the others. We talked of lodes, pay dirt, methods of drilling, the l J1 l. l;ni for healing gunshot wounds, qualities of the
 different makes of firearms, compared the veracity of the Indian and the Mexican,
 and finally it wound up by one of the cowpunchers from across the mountains asking me to make little talk tho
 subject of my profession. I wouldn't have suggested that, because as their guest I felt the laws of hospitality de-
 manded that follow their lead, but I
 was more than glad of the opportunity
 the cowman presented. I mounted one of the card tables and in their own pie ! turesque language, as I had learned it
 from them, told of the Martyr of Calvary
 and the Compassionate Father. As I
 went on they threw away their cigars and several removed their hats. Not a | sound escaped them. They were on their ! honor and I believe they would have
 roughly handled any man showing the slightest discourtesy.
 1 T don't believe I ever spent 8 moro profitable hour in my life or one where
 the mutual enjoyment was greater My
 congregation was lustily singing Jesus,
 Lover of My Soul.' when the whistle of
 the belated train was herd and the meet
 ing broke up.
 Within a week a member of my sa-
 loon audience shot and killed three men, but 1t was in fight he had not sought,