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“HE LEADETH ME” 
 
MRS. PRANCES JOSEPH-GAUDET. 
 
HE LEADETH ME 
 
 —BY— 
 
 FRANCES JOSEPH-GAUDET 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1913. 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES JOSEPH-GAUDET 
 
 
 LOUISIANA PRINTING COMPANY. LIMITED. 
 NEW ORLEANS 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 T HE story Mrs. Frances A. Joseph tells so modestly and 
 simply is as thrilling as it is creditable to the woman- 
 hood of her race. 
 
 That a woman born in a small Mississippi town out of 
 touch with the reformatory agencies and societies which 
 usually suggest their field to those who take up this work ; 
 and that without suggestion from statistics, reports, or 
 ardent protests from humanitarians to stir her up to effort, 
 should be moved to over-ride the prejudices and suspicions 
 of her own class toward one of their number engaging in a 
 work so unsavory and amid associations so questionable, is 
 little short of marvelous. 
 
 The story which she tells was not offered voluntarily, 
 but is the result of the earnest solicitation of those who be- 
 lieve it will attract attention, bring co-operation and help 
 from Christian hearts and hands, North and South, who seek 
 to enter every open door of love, duty and sympathy leading 
 to the amelioration of the sad condition of the criminal and 
 misguided classes. Mrs. Joseph gives as her reason rather 
 than the applause of men, “the hope ‘that when our women 
 read of this my mission, they may become inspired to do 
 what they can in the same way,” — the noblest reason that 
 can be given for this production. 
 
 In the pages which follow are facts more thrilling than 
 romance. This is not a story spun from a highly imagina- 
 tive mind, but solid truths dealt with and experienced by 
 an earnest Christian woman. Read her own, straight-for- 
 ward story, and if further proof of the author’s worth is 
 needed, read the following testimonials. 
 
2 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME.” 
 
 From The Christian Herald. 
 
 “As beautiful Elizabeth Fry, the Angel of Newgate and 
 many other prisons, and next to Howard, greatest of prison 
 reformers, labored among criminals of her time, Frances A. 
 Joseph, a woman of the Negro race, is laboring among pris- 
 oners, black and white, in Southern jails. That Elizabeth 
 Fry, wealthy and of the highest social position, should im- 
 press people of station and authority, overcome prejudice 
 and win sympathy and co-operation, is small matter for 
 marvel; but that the daughter of a lowly Negro minister, a 
 seamstress, making her living by her needle, should succeed 
 in doing what Mrs. Joseph has accomplished may be cause 
 for considerable wonder. 
 
 “Mrs. Joseph is the first American woman to choose 
 mission work among Negro prisoners. Her labors, begun 
 for her own people, were quickly extended to white unfor- 
 tunates, as her regular visits and ministration includes the 
 prison-yards of both races. 
 
 “Known on two continents, she has, indeed, accom- 
 plished great good, and commands the respectful consider- 
 ation of her community, the great commendation of the 
 Mayor and other officials of New Orleans; the confidence 
 of the Governor of her state, and the warm regard of the 
 Prison Reform Association of Fouisiana. In a recent trip 
 abroad, whither she went as delegate to the International 
 Woman’s Christian Temperance Union Convention, she 
 was heard at Edinburgh, the Ford Lieutenant of Scotland 
 being one of her auditors; later at Belfast, Ireland; next in 
 Spurgeon’s Tabernacle, London; and then at Paris, by 
 audiences as attentive as those which have recently been 
 her listeners in New York. As Mrs. Fry’s hearers were 
 confined to one continent, it may be said that Mrs. Joseph, 
 in point of territory covered by personal addresses, has 
 somewhat the advantage of her great English prototype. In 
 her own country, she has visited twenty-two prisons in as 
 many different states.” Thus spoke the “Christian Herald” 
 and “Signs of our Times” of the author of this volume. 
 
 The accompanying cut, prepared especially for this book 
 of research work, is an excellent likeness of Mrs. Frances A. 
 Joseph, who is thus described in one of the issues of the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 3 
 
 Southwestern Christian Advocate, published in New Or- 
 leans, by Rev. I. B. Scott, now one of the Bishops of the 
 M. E. Church : 
 
 From the Southwestern Christian Advocate. 
 
 “Mrs. Frances Joseph, of this city, is really a remark- 
 able woman. We dare say there is no woman of any race, 
 who has devoted herself more fully to administering both 
 to the spiritual and temporal needs of the lowly than she. 
 Five years ago she recognized the necessity for some one 
 visiting those who are sick and in prison, and doing as much 
 as possible to relieve their suffering, and also to provide for 
 their spiritual needs. To such work she has devoted herself 
 so assiduously that those confined in the parish prison and 
 the city workhouse are much disappointed when she does 
 not make her appearance from week to week. She has led 
 quite a number to Christ, furnished reading matter and 
 distributed scores of articles of clothing to those who were 
 not even prepared to appear in the courts for trial. Mrs. 
 Joseph is highly respected by the city and parish authori- 
 ties and is assisted and encouraged in her work by many of 
 the best white citizens of the city. We shall be pleased to 
 give her every encouragement possible, and hope the day 
 may come when scores of her sisters of the race may be 
 found by her side in the performance of this God-given 
 task.” 
 
 H. T. Kealing, Editor A. M. E. Review. 
 
 Department of Police and Public Buildings, 
 
 Room 26, City Hall, 
 
 New Orleans, March 10, 1898. 
 
 Mrs. Frances A. Joseph, 
 
 President Frances E. Willard Union of Louisiana. 
 
 Dear Madam — 
 
 Your letter of yesterday only reached me this morning 
 owing to my visiting lower markets. 
 
 The enclosed letter from your pastor, Rev. L. H. Rey- 
 nolds, is only in accord with the impression I formed at our 
 first meeting. 
 
4 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME.” 
 
 I believe you ought to have extended a helping hand 
 and not thwarted, and for that reason enclose you an admit 
 card. 
 
 Should any employee of mine so far forget himself as 
 to refuse to honor same, telephone my office during business 
 hour, or Fire Alarm at night. 
 
 With my best wishes for the success of your efforts, 
 I remain 
 
 Yours respectfully, 
 
 (Signed) J. W. Murphy, 
 
 Commissioner. 
 
 Department of Police and Public Buildings, 
 
 Room 26, City Hall, 
 
 New Orleans, March 10, 1898. 
 
 To Whom It May Concern: 
 
 Permission is hereby granted Mrs. Frances A. Joseph 
 to visit Police Jail at any time she feels disposed. 
 
 (Signed) John W. Murphy, 
 
 Commissioner. 
 
 Office of Criminal Sheriff, 
 
 Parish of Orleans, 
 
 New Orleans. March 23, 1898. 
 
 Mrs. Frances A. Joseph, 
 
 Madam — 
 
 In answer to yours of this date, I can say your 
 visits to this institution have so far been pleasant, and I 
 appreciate the good you have done in behalf of the unfor- 
 tunate confined, distributing literature and advising them 
 for their good. 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 (Signed) W. E. Uniake, Sheriff. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 5 
 
 State of Louisiana, Mayoralty of New Orleans, 
 
 City Hall, New Orleans, April 24, 1900. 
 
 To Whom It May Concern: 
 
 Mrs. Frances A. Joseph, identified with many charities 
 in New Orleans, more particularly known for her prison 
 work and as president of the Frances Willard Women’s 
 Christian Temperance Union of Louisiana, leaves shortly 
 to attend an International Temperance Convention, to be 
 held in Edinburgh, Scotland. 
 
 Mrs. Joseph is so well known to the people of New 
 Orleans that she requires no introduction or credential 
 other than her own work. 
 
 As she goes among strangers, I commend her to the 
 kind offices of those among whom she may temporarily 
 sojourn during her present mission. 
 
 (Signed) W. C. Flower, Mayor. 
 
 Prison Reform Association, 
 
 New Orleans, May 31,1900. 
 
 This will introduce Mrs. Frances A. Joseph, who visits 
 Europe as a delegate to the International Convention. 
 
 Mrs. Joseph is well known in this city for her human- 
 itarian work, and is a constant visitor to our jails and 
 prisons, and the objects sought for and obtained by her 
 meet the very hearty endorsement of this association. 
 
 We trust that the object of her visit to Europe and the 
 Northern cities of the United States may result in full 
 accomplishment of her wishes. 
 
 (Signed) J. Watts Kearney, President. 
 
6 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 “State of Louisiana, Mayoralty of New Orleans, 
 “City Hall, November 2, 1911. 
 “To Whom It May Concern: 
 
 “I am pleased to be able to commend Mrs. Frances 
 Joseph Gaudet for the admirable work she has, and is still 
 performing, in the care and uplifting of the unfortunate of 
 her own race in this city and section. Mrs. Gaudet enjoys 
 the confidence and esteem of all who know her in this com- 
 munity, and is regarded as entirely trustworthy in all she 
 says and does. 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 Martin Behrman, Mayor. 
 
 AT THE PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCE. 
 
 Resolutions of recommendation and indorsement of the 
 Philadelphia Conference of the African Methodist Episcopal 
 Church, in behalf of Mrs. Frances A. Joseph, of New Or- 
 leans, La., President of the Woman’s Christian Temperance 
 Union of Louisiana, and Superintendent of Prison Mission- 
 ary Work. 
 
 Whereas, the annual conference has heard with the 
 most profound respect and appreciation of Mrs. Frances A. 
 Joseph, of New Orleans, La., president of the Woman’s 
 Christian Temperance Union and Prison Missionary Work, 
 now en route for Edinburgh, Scotland, as a delegate to the 
 World’s Woman’s Christian Temperance Union Interna- 
 tional Convention; and 
 
 Whereas, the conference has been touched by the re- 
 cital of the work she has accomplished in New Orleans and 
 vicinity, and other places in visiting the prisons, securing 
 assistance for those unable to secure proper defense, acquit- 
 tals for those unjustly accused, and in bringing to the atten- 
 tion of the judges and attorneys the cases and conditions of 
 many of those whose cause would have gone unheard ; and 
 
 Whereas, our sense of appreciation for her services has 
 been heightened beyond expression, from the fact that the 
 interest taken by her and the assistance given have been 
 done irrespective of race, color, nationality or condition, 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 7 
 
 further, that this work has been prosecuted without any 
 regular financial compensation, and done often under the 
 most trying circumstances where she has been liable to 
 meet with insult and rebuff ; and 
 
 Whereas, that in her, we recognize the highest dignity 
 of refinement, and the truest evidence of Christian-like 
 character and the undaunted qualities of womanly heroism, 
 which makes her worthy of our unlimited confidence and 
 highest endorsement, we as a body of Christian ministers 
 can give ; 
 
 Therefore, be it Resolved, that the 84th Annual Session 
 of the Philadelphia Conference of the African Methodist 
 Episcopal Church hereby recommend the said Mrs. Frances 
 A. Joseph and her good work to the people of the United 
 Kingdom of Great Britain, Ireland and Scotland, and wher- 
 ever else she may go, as a worthy representative of the tem- 
 perance cause and reformatory prison life, asking for her 
 the largest consideration possible in the extension of this 
 great and laudable undertaking. 
 
 Resolved, that we endorse her determination to build 
 a home for the unfortunates in the suburbs of the city of 
 New Orleans for the purpose of rescuing and sheltering 
 boys and girls destined to prison life for seeming vagrancy, 
 because of their inability to procure profitable employment, 
 so that their young lives be not contaminated by criminal 
 proclivities. 
 
 Resolved, that this Annual Conference bestow upon her 
 our prayers, our fullest confidence and our petition for aid 
 in her behalf, to whom these presents may come greetings. 
 
 Done in the city of Chester, State of Pennsylvania, this 
 the 7th day of June, A. D. 1900. 
 
 W. B. Derrick, Bishop. 
 
 H. H. Cooper, Secretary. 
 
8 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 From The Times-Democrat of November 8, 1905. 
 
 With the rightful claim of Godmother to the Juvenile 
 Court, the Era Club, considered its representation during 
 the court sessions but a just manifestation of interest in 
 this method of reform work effected by the organization. 
 Hence followed the appointment of members to serve upon 
 the Special Juvenile Court Committees shortly after the 
 institution of the child’s separate court law. 
 
 The presence of refined womanhood during the conduct 
 of the trials lends a certain dignity to the proceedings, while 
 exerting a softening influence upon the hapless young mis- 
 creants. 
 
 Most faithful work in this particular sphere has been 
 accomplished during the summer months by Mrs. H. Dudley 
 Coleman and Miss Anna Bonnabel, who have been constant 
 and regular in their attendance during the Juvenile sessions 
 at both the uptown and downtown courts, presided over by 
 Judge Fogarty and Judge Marmouget, respectively. The 
 efforts of these faithful members of the Era Club have ac- 
 complished great and far-reaching good in tempering the 
 nature of the punishment inflicted for minor misdemeanors 
 and in lending their moral support and influence to the 
 misguided youths. 
 
 Another noble woman who deserves special credit for 
 work in this same broad field is Mrs. Frances Joseph, whose 
 faithful presence and influence at the Juvenile Court has 
 ever been a stronghold and support to young offenders of 
 the law. 
 
 Frances Joseph, superintendent of the Colored Indus- 
 trial School, has effected the most praiseworthy missionary 
 work in uplifting and establishing the high moral code of 
 her race. 
 
 Long before the establishment of the Juvenile Court 
 and long before any white woman thought of lending the 
 influence of her presence at the children’s trials, Frances 
 Joseph (Gaudet) faithfully attended the courts. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 9 
 
 THE RECEPTION. 
 
 On Wednesday, January 2, 1901, a large and enthusi- 
 astic reception was tendered to Mrs. Frances A. Joseph on 
 her return from Europe in one of our largest colored 
 churches in the city, Central Congregational. 
 
 Mrs. Joseph interestingly entertained her audience for 
 nearly two hours. At this gathering the following resolu- 
 tions were presented by Dr. A. M. Green, and unanimously 
 adopted : 
 
 “As citizens of the State of Louisiana, and of the City 
 of New Orleans, proud and even boastful of whatever tends 
 to the honor and credit of our state and city ; having wit- 
 nessed with emotions of pride and admiration the self- 
 denying philanthropic labors of our friend and sister, Mrs. 
 Frances A. Joseph, and being all the more impressed be- 
 cause of her birth in our adjoining sister state of Mississippi ; 
 and in view of her model parentage, being the daughter of 
 a faithful Christian minister, and of a mother of most sin- 
 cere and pious devotion to Christ; and last, but not least, 
 of her years of pure life, her chaste life and character in our 
 midst; we deem this an opportune time and occasion for 
 an expression of our high estimation of the character and 
 worth, of one who, with such a spirit of total self-abnega- 
 tion, and persevering love for the fallen distressed, has gone 
 her own way into popular recognition until the people of 
 two great continents recognize and applaud her noble efforts 
 on behalf of the poor, homeless and neglected boys and girls 
 of her race; 
 
 “Resolved therefore: It is a pleasure to know that the 
 zeal and persevering energy of Mrs. Joseph has resulted in 
 the bringing together of citizens and their permanent organ- 
 ization for helpfulness in the work that lies nearest her 
 heart. 
 
 “Resolved: That the Colored Industrial Home and 
 School Association, and the subscriptions and assurances of 
 material aid of citizens of wealth and influence, both at 
 home and abroad, are the surest possible guarantee of final 
 success, and of the fact that our friend and honored guest 
 of the evening has not labored in vain. 
 
10 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 “Resolved: That in furtherance of the grand objects 
 herein expressed, and as earnest of our desire for the per- 
 fect success of this movement, we do hereby pledge it our 
 most cheerful endorsement, and our determination to do 
 all in our power to assist and encourage the efforts put forth 
 in this direction.” 
 
 FRANCES A. JOSEPH. 
 
 I was born in a log cabin in Holmesville, Pike County, 
 Mississippi, November 25, 1861. My mother was the daugh- 
 ter of Squire Yancey, a slave, a local preacher of the A. M. E. 
 Church. My father left home for the war and never re- 
 turned. My mother’s mother was an Indian, for whom I 
 was named. My grandparents kept me with them until I 
 was eight years old. Grandfather and I were much in love 
 with each other; he rarely went to town (Summit, about 
 seven miles from home), without taking me along on the 
 ox team. These were treats to which I eagerly looked for- 
 ward. I well remember my first money and how I invested 
 it. A gentleman in the store where grandfather dealt gave 
 me two silver five-cent pieces. I began to look around for 
 the largest thing I could purchase for five cents; it proved 
 to be a sugar loaf which was about ten inches long and about 
 eight inches around and was smooth, pink and very pretty. 
 I bought it and the clerk wrapped a piece of brown paper 
 around it and I went out on the steps to eat while waiting 
 for grandfather to finish his shopping. A goat came up just 
 as I seated myself, sprang at me and grabbed the brown 
 paper. I held on tightly and screamed for help, hugging 
 the loaf so closely that it was crushed and made just one 
 little handful of pink sugar. It was nearly all wind. The 
 other five cents I put into my mouth for safe-keeping and 
 swallowed it. I was inconsolable, and cried myself to sleep 
 that night at the loss of my first money. 
 
 Grandfather helped to build the first church for Negroes 
 in Summit. Being one of the founders and having a little 
 education he was so anxious to have us taught that he gave 
 the use of the church to a northern missionary to open the 
 first school for colored children. I shall never forget my 
 first day in school. There were about twenty children 
 seated on four long, rough, backless benches. I was in the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 11 
 
 front row. Grandfather had given me his precious old blue- 
 back speller. Noticing I was the only one that had a book, 
 I felt sorry for the other children and divided my book with 
 them by tearing out leaves and passing one to each child. 
 Meanwhile the teacher was unfolding a large cloth chart 
 having the alphabet, which attracted my attention. Then 
 our work began in earnest. 
 
 In the churchyard nearby slept a silent congregation 
 in which nearly every home in the church was represented, 
 pieces of plank marking the grave of some departed loved 
 one. How I loved the big meeting days, when on the first 
 Sunday of the month people came from one to thirty miles 
 to hear the gospel from some poor, earnest, struggling black 
 preacher. We children sat on the floor around the altar, glad 
 to be there, sometimes falling asleep and bumping our 
 heads. When preaching was over we would eat dinner that 
 had been prepared on Saturday, water our stock and start 
 for home. As we only lived two miles from church my 
 grandparents walked, Brother Eugene and I ran on in front 
 through the woods taking off our shoes and wading through 
 the creek while the old folks walked the log further down. 
 Our parents were very poor. We had to go barefoot all 
 the summer so as to save our shoes for winter. They were 
 russets with brass tips ,and brother and I would try to see 
 which could shine those tips the brightest. Then when all 
 work was done we rushed away to the clay pile to make 
 mud pies, men, houses, etc. Sometimes Grandfather came 
 out. and while watching us made some useful suggestions, 
 that we always prized. We had no toys and sometimes 
 amused ourselves catching butterflies. Grandfather would 
 tell us the names of the pretty colors on their wings, then 
 we would let them go; often I watched them as far as I 
 could, then, would ask where they had gone, was there 
 another town like ours? He would answer yes, and tell of 
 the large city far away where he hoped to go some day. 
 
 His hopes were realized sooner than he expected. My 
 oldest uncle lived on a plantation with his wife and two 
 children. The overseer had ordered my uncle’s wife to 
 come to his room while uncle was away. When he returned 
 he took his gun and killed the overseer, and this made my 
 uncle a fugitive from his town. Grandfather was so trou- 
 
12 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 bled by this he could not live in peace at his home. I was 
 eight years old and brother was ten when they moved to 
 the city of New Orleans and sent us to a private school near 
 our home. Four years later found me in the fourth grade 
 in Mrs. Ludwig’s room in the public school on Clio street, 
 near Prytania. My grandparents both died leaving us 
 with mother, who had married a sailor. She moved down- 
 town and sent me to Straight University a while. My step- 
 father died and mother had to take me from school. Brother 
 and I had to help her earn money to support the other three 
 children. My heart ached and many nights my pillow was 
 wet with tears because I could not finish school. I loved 
 poetry and every spare penny I got went for books which 
 I read at night. Our lot was hard but when brother told me 
 confidentially that he was tired of working for $10.00 per 
 month and had decided to run away and accept a place as 
 cook on an Illinois Central freight train, my cup of sorrow 
 was full to overflowing. 
 
 When a month had passed he wrote to mother begging 
 her pardon and sending her his first month’s wages. He 
 sent her the rent regularly every month until she died 
 twenty years later. Only his color has prevented his rising 
 to a higher position than charge of the president’s private 
 car, for he is loved and respected by all the railroad officials. 
 
 In my seventeenth year I had many suitors. I was 
 wed and lived happily with my husband for ten years, when 
 drink, the curse of America, gained a hold on him and de- 
 stroyed our happiness and made a legal separation neces- 
 sary. It was then the Lord called me to the mission field, 
 and in trying to cheer the broken-hearted I forgot my own 
 troubles. Three children were to be educated and God 
 helped me wonderfully to provide for them. 
 
WHY I BEGAN 
 
 13 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW AND WHY I BEGAN PRISON REFORM WORK 
 IN NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 I AM asked to write of my prison work, and how I came 
 to engage in it. One never-to-be-forgotten Saturday 
 morning in March, 1894, while on my way to see a 
 sick member of the old historic St. James Church, of which 
 I am a communicant, I had to pass the depot of the Mis- 
 sissippi Valley Railroad. The train was all coupled and 
 ready to start. Just then an old woman, sobbing bitterly, 
 passed me, and as sight of tears always moves me, I drew 
 near and asked if I could help her. She shook her head and 
 replied, “No, my child, it is too late. My only son is in 
 that gang going to the State Prison.” 
 
 I looked in the direction she pointed, and saw about 
 twenty colored men and four women being pushed aboard 
 the waiting train. The whistle blew, the engine pulled out 
 with its load of human freight, some to serve for six months, 
 some for twenty years, and some never to return. The poor 
 old lone mother by my side tottered beneath her burden of 
 grief, and might have fallen had I not held her by the arm 
 until she could control herself. 
 
 I persuaded her to return to her home, which she said 
 was just five squares away; and as I walked by her side, 
 she told me her son had been charged with breaking into a 
 store at night and stealing goods amounting to eighty dol- 
 lars. He was arrested, convicted and sentenced to five 
 years at hard labor in the State Prison at Baton Rouge. 
 
 I consoled her as best I could, and I left her in her 
 sorrow. That evening when I picked up the paper, the first 
 thing I saw was the glaring headlines, “Twenty-four Ne- 
 groes sent to the Pen !” Then followed a long list of names, 
 the crimes committed and the length of time to serve. 
 
 I felt that something ought to be done to stop this 
 march to the prisons. That night, as I knelt by my bed 
 to ask God to comfort that aged mother whose only sup- 
 port was locked behind prison walls, it seemed some one 
 was whispering to me, “You must go to the prison and ask 
 the prisoners to pray that God will help them to resist 
 temptation; and tell them to pledge themselves never to 
 
14 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 do anything to bring them back to the prison when they 
 get out of their present trouble.” 
 
 I became frightened and tried to banish the thought. 
 The next morning, Sunday, I went to Sabbath School, 
 taught my class and remained over for church service. The 
 pastor read for the lesson, St. Matthew, xxv chapter, begin- 
 ning with the 31st verse. As I listened I became more im- 
 pressed that I must take up this work; and as we knelt to 
 pray, I promised God if He would open the way I would 
 strive to do His bidding. I saw the Christians sitting in the 
 church waiting for sinners to come in to be prayed for, but 
 few came. Then I realized what my Master meant when 
 He said that we must go into the highways and hedges, and 
 compel them to come by our kindly reasoning and Christian 
 example. 
 
 Mionday morning, the feeling was still stronger upon 
 me to go to the prison and try to stop that great host march- 
 ing to degradation. I asked several persons to go with me, 
 but no one would go; however, I secured permission from 
 the Mayor to visit the jails. 
 
 On Wednesday I was still determined. While ponder- 
 ing how best to proceed, a knock came at my gate. I hast- 
 ened to see who was there. A man stood before me begging 
 me to help him. He said that he was a minister, and had 
 come from Mississippi to see an only son who was arrested 
 for larceny. He felt that his son was innocent but he did 
 not have money to employ a lawyer. He had seen me, 
 knew I was a member of the King’s Daughters, and thought 
 I might aid him. He had asked some of the ministers for 
 help but had not received enough. I told him I would do 
 what I could, and asked him to meet me at the prison gate 
 that day at one o’clock. He was there and the sheriff 
 allowed us to pass in. After I had been shown over the 
 prison and talked with the minister’s son, I asked to be 
 allowed to hold prayer-meetings once a week in the halls 
 leading to the cells. They consented, and on Friday of the 
 same week I succeeded in getting the same minister to as- 
 sist me in this meeting. We heard that a man by the name 
 of James Murray alias “Greasy Jim,” was on the first floor in 
 one of the cells, charged with murder. He had been found 
 guilty, sentenced to be hanged, and was awaiting the Gover- 
 nor’s signature to his death-warrant. There were also con- 
 
THE PARISH PRISON. 
 
WHY I BEGAN 
 
 15 
 
 fined in cells nearby Frank Fuller, who had killed his wife, 
 and James Washington, who had killed his brother-in-law. 
 
 As the deputy sheriff unlocked the cell doors and let the 
 men out into the hall where we were locked in, the prison- 
 ers not knowing us, eyed us with suspicion. I held out my 
 hand to Murray, and shook hands with him as the sheriff 
 introduced us. I told him we had come to cheer and help 
 him, and recommend to him a Friend who was his only hope 
 now. He smiled and said, “This is new to me, I’ve never 
 had anyone to visit me and pray with me before, and I’ve 
 been in many prisons ; but it’s too late now. If some Chris- 
 tian had come into my cell in Mississippi, where I was ar- 
 rested for the first time, and talked with me as you are 
 talking, I might not be here to-day. I had no one when 
 I was young 'to urge me to attend church, and when I grew 
 to manhood I never thought of it.” 
 
 “Well,” I said, “it is not too late. If you are sorry for ' 
 what you have done, and ask God to forgive you, He will, 
 and He will give you rest from your care and sorrow.” 
 
 He replied, “You may sing and pray, but I don’t know 
 that it will do me any good.” 
 
 Accordingly, I sang that good old hymn, “Come ye 
 sinners, poor and needy,” and knelt to pray. Murray stood 
 up a while, but when the prayer was half finished, he knelt 
 on the stone floor at my side and groaned, “It is too late 
 then the sobs shook his frame, and tears flowed down his 
 cheeks. When we arose, he failed to get up. Another 
 hymn was sung, “Lord Jesus, I long to be perfectly whole.” 
 Tears were still falling on the floor while the minister 
 prayed. Frank Fuller arose to his feet and said, “I feel my 
 sins forgiven ; praise God.” 
 
 Then the jailer, while we were singing “Jesus Lover 
 of my Soul, “took my hand, shook it and said, “Pray for 
 me.” His face was wet with tears. Shortly after that a 
 crazy prisoner killed him, but the prisoners all said that 
 from that day he was a dhanged man and they seemed sorry 
 at his death. 
 
 After the first week I could get no one to accompany 
 me to the prison, so I went alone and held my second prayer- 
 meeting. I found Murray anxiously waiting for me to help 
 him with my prayers and hymns. He said he had not eaten 
 anything that day, and felt heart-sore and burdened. 
 
16 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 After I had read the third chapter of John and explained it 
 as best I could, we knelt in prayer, and on arising, I sang 
 with all my soul : 
 
 “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, 
 
 When sorrows like billows roll, 
 
 Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, 
 
 ‘It is well, it is well with my soul.’ ” 
 
 I asked him to help me sing the chorus ; he tried, and 
 as he sang louder and louder, his face seemed to shine more 
 and more, until he grasped my hand, shook it with emotion, 
 an'd said, “Praise the Lord, Oh my soul ! It is well, it is 
 well with my soul.” After talking with him for some time, 
 I left him rejoicing. 
 
 Two weeks later with Mrs. M. A. Marshall, who agreed 
 to accompany me whenever she could, I went to hold the 
 weekly prayer meeting. We had been in the prison about 
 an hour, singing and praying, when we were called to the 
 cell door by the sheriff and asked to stand by Murray while 
 the death-warrant was being read to him. We agreed. He 
 was called, and came and stood between us while the jury 
 filed in ; then calmly folding his arms, he stood and listened 
 with a smile to the terrible words, “That he was to be 
 hanged by the neck till he was dead.” He took it as coolly 
 as if it were an invitation to a dinner. At the conclusion 
 we led the way to the condemned cell. He smiled when 
 we parted, and we asked God to give him courage to go 
 through the ordeal that awaited him. 
 
 Two weeks later we went to pay him the last visit 
 and waited for him in the prison chapel. The gallows had 
 been erected three days previous to this. The minister who 
 was to attend him was also in waiting in the chapel with 
 us. Soon we heard the slow and steady tramp of the dep- 
 uties descending the stairs with the unfortunate man. As 
 they entered the chapel we sang: 
 
 “Saviour, more than life to me, 
 
 I am clinging, clinging close to Thee.’’ 
 
 The minister read and we sang: “Nearer my God to Thee.” 
 
 Murray then shook my hand and asked God’s blessing 
 upon me for leading him to a hope in Christ. After singing, 
 as well as emotion would allow us, “God be with you till 
 we meet again, ”1 took my leave. On reaching the door, I 
 turned to look back; there stood Murray still smiling and 
 
WHY I BEGAN 
 
 17 
 
 waving farewell. Twenty minutes later he was dead. 
 
 During the eight years of my prison work, over five 
 hundred souls were converted to Christ. One of these is 
 now a local preacher. Eleven hundred more pledged them- 
 selves to lead better lives. 
 
 During that time I witnessed many sad scenes. I 
 have seen young women so drunk that they could not stand, 
 brought in and thrown into a cell to sober up. 
 
 Many of our people refuse to listen, or come to church, 
 where they may be persuaded to become Christians them- 
 selves, and leave off the frivolities that assist in dragging 
 them down ; but when they find themselves in prison for 
 the first time, they are filled with shame and remorse. I 
 have seen such persons shed bitter tears as they were locked 
 in. I have gone to them and urged them to repent of their 
 sins, and to resolve to live better lives ; that if they have 
 fallen by the wayside to get up out of the “Slough of 
 Despond” and begin to do right ; if they have made a mis- 
 take, others have also, and that they need not continue in 
 that course. I have told them that some one they least 
 think of is watching them, perhaps some little brother or 
 sister is going to pattern after them. Such talks, I have 
 found, always help, and many have pledged their word to 
 me on bended knees; for when they are in prison they have 
 few friends, no money, but plenty of time to think. This is 
 the Christian’s opportunity to visit the prisoner and recom- 
 mend a “Friend that sticket'h closer than a brother.” Nine 
 times out of ten he will accept Jesus and leave the prison 
 a Christian, often joining some church at once. 
 
 In many churches in New Orleans I see some face I 
 have met in prison, some one with whom I have pleaded, 
 some one whose pledge I have taken. My work has not 
 stopped here. I have gone to the judge and pleaded for 
 leniency. Some have had their sentences set aside, some 
 have been kept from going to the State Prison, having their 
 time spent in the city where they are better treated, and 
 where their friends can come to see them. Then these visits 
 to the prison cause the deputies to treat the prisoners better, 
 for the fear of being reported to higher officials has great 
 force. I have had this to do more than once. 
 
 Wardens and jailers become callous through seeing so 
 much misery, and are apt to consider a man guilty because 
 
18 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 he is a prisoner, and being guilty, in their opinion, he loses 
 all claim to kind treatment. This is the tendency, although 
 there are many noble exceptions. I tell them that a man 
 does not lose his humanity because he is a prisoner, that 
 he still has rights which the deputies should respect. 
 
 With the assistance of the Prison Reform Association, 
 I was able to reduce the number of inmates I found in t'he 
 Parish Prison in New Orleans, when I began this work. 
 There is a chronic class of prisoners, white and colored, who 
 are out one week and in the next. Some deem this class 
 hopeless, but I believe there is some good in all, and as long 
 as there is life there is hope. 
 
 The paris'h officials do not furnish clothing for the 
 prisoners, therefore something had to be done to hide their 
 person, so I went out and begged for shoes and clothing to 
 help them. A man who had been in prison four months 
 was obliged to remain in bed three days, because his clothes 
 had fallen to pieces. Had I not provided clothes in this 
 case, he would have been unable to attend his trial. 
 
 I have yet to speak of the worst thing of all. Little 
 boys of all sizes were placed in the yard with men who had 
 committed almost every crime on the calendar, and they 
 were kept with these men four or five weeks before they 
 were tried. If guilty they were sent to the Boys’ House of 
 Refuge. If innocent, they were of course, released ; but in 
 either event they are sure to have overheard many things 
 in this school of crime furnished by the city that would 
 have been best unheard. 
 
 I registered a vow, God being my helper, to bring about 
 a better condition of affairs to save these helpless children, 
 by building a home for them, and to have them committed 
 to my care. 
 
 Now a word about the criminals. The Negro has few 
 friends when prosperous, he has still fewer when in trouble. 
 When I began pleading with the judges to deal as leniently 
 with the black man as with the white, they were astonished 
 at the interest I took in these friendless ones and seemed to 
 be of the opinion that they were my relatives or friends, or 
 that I was being paid a salary or receiving compensation 
 from some source. They were greatly amazed when I told 
 them I did not expect any reward here on earth but was 
 simply doing what I thought would please my Maker. I 
 
WHY I BEGAN 
 
 19 
 
 supported myself by sewing and when I lost a whole day to 
 assist some one to get his freedom I must sew part of the 
 night to make up lost time. The prisoners themselves very 
 often forgot to thank me when they got out. They soon 
 forget that they owed their liberty to my efforts, and that 
 they promised to pay at least my carfare for securing them 
 counsel and finding their friends. But this did not stop me. 
 I believed I was pleasing God and that He will bless me 
 for whatever I am permitted to do for suffering humanity. 
 
 I recall one day some years ago, when I had been out 
 the whole day trying to get favorable evidence to keep a 
 woman from the State Prison, I found myself two miles 
 from home, footsore and hungry, without a nickel in my 
 purse to pay carfare. I had to walk home and naturally my 
 thoughts were gloomy. I asked myself the question, “How 
 long can I go on in this way without financial aid?” which 
 I was ashamed to ask. I felt I must give up the work. 
 These lines came to me, penned by one who knew : 
 
 THE BURDEN. 
 
 By Lucy Rider Meyer. 
 
 “O God,’’ I cried, “Why may I not forget? 
 
 These halt and hurt in life’s hard battle throng me yet. 
 
 Am I their keeper? Only I? To bear 
 This constant burden of their grief and care? 
 
 Why must I suffer for the others’ sin? 
 
 Would God my eyes had never opened been !” 
 
 And the thorn-crowned and patient One 
 Replied, “They thronged me, too ; I too have seen.” 
 
 “Thy other children go at will,” I said, protesting still ; 
 “They go unheeding, but these sick and sad. 
 
 These blind and orphan, yea, and those that sin 
 Drag at my heart. For them I serve and groan. 
 
 Why is it? Let me rest, Lord, I have tried” — 
 
 He turned and looked at me, “But I have died.” 
 
 “But Lord, this ceaseless travail of my soul ! 
 
 This stress ! This often fruitless toil these souls to win ! 
 They are not mine. I brought not forth this host 
 Of needy creatures, struggling, tempest tossed — they are 
 not mine.” 
 
20 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 He looked at them — the look of one divine; 
 
 He turned and looked at me. “But they are mine.’’ 
 
 “O God,” I said, “I understood at last. 
 
 Forgive ! And henceforth I will bond-slave be 
 To thy least, weakest, vilest ones ; 
 
 I would not more be free.” 
 
 He smiled and said, “It is to me.” 
 
 Just then a man stopped in front of me, and grasping 
 my hand, shook it, saying, “Excuse me, Mrs. Joseph, but I 
 must speak to you ; I suppose you have forgotten me.” 
 
 “Yes,” I replied. 
 
 “A year ago,” he said, “I was in prison and you begged 
 me to lead a better life. I promised you that I would. I 
 am now converted to Christ and am glad you made me 
 promise. I hope you will continue your visits to the prison 
 as there are many like myself who need to be advised. 
 Then again, the deputies treat them better when you are 
 around.” 
 
 I told him I was glad I had helped him. As I passed 
 on, I said to myself, “I can’t give up this work; I must con- 
 tinue, help or no help.’’ The judges were kind, treating me 
 with every courtesy. The Mayor, the district attorney, the 
 sheriff, the captain, the deputies, the newspapers, all were 
 kind and patient, ever willing to give me a hearing. I have 
 a few critics among my own race, who have tried to dis- 
 courage me by saying it is not a woman’s place to visit 
 prisons and courts; but, as St. Paul says, “None of these 
 things move me,” for I love my people. I am trying to lift 
 fallen humanity, to raise the moral standard higher, and 
 above all, to please God. 
 
 At my request, the authorities set aside the third Sun- 
 day in each month for the colored ministers to preach in 
 the prisons, but it was not always easy to get them, so I 
 usually spoke to them myself. The prisoners were very 
 eager to get books and newspapers, hundreds of which I 
 begged for them, but the supply was seldom sufficient to 
 go around. 
 
 Devoutly believing that God had given me this work 
 to do, I was content to labor on, looking to the time when 
 my labor should cease, the fruit be seen, and the reward 
 given. 
 
TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION 
 
 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 “TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION.” 
 
 Not a few have been accused, arrested and suffered 
 imprisonment for crimes of which they knew absolutely 
 nothing. It is true, according to our state laws, every 
 accused person is innocent until the state can prove him 
 guilty. In very many cases, the individual though innocent 
 is utterly unable to prove himself guiltless. As for instance, 
 a man in the late hours of the night, passing a dwelling 
 house that had twenty minutes before been burglarized, is 
 arrested, charged with the crime and put into prison. 
 Though innocent, the evidence points strongly to him. He 
 cannot prove that he did not enter the house, and being a 
 stranger in the community, no one can vouch for him. He 
 is given little time for communication with relatives or 
 friends, and being penniless, he is convicted and sentenced 
 to the State Prison. Thousands have been convicted on 
 what is known as circumstantial evidence, and hundreds 
 have been as innocent of the crime of which they are charged 
 as you who read these pages. If you had good reasons to 
 believe a prisoner guiltless and you could get him out of 
 his distress, would you not do so? 
 
 Fathers and mothers, you who have sons, possibly 
 daughters, roaming the world over, would you not rejoice 
 and be exceedingly glad to know that some sympathetic 
 Christian person in a foreign land had given your child a 
 helping hand? I do not mean that guilty persons should 
 not suffer for their crimes. I have always contended that 
 the guilty should suffer in proportion to their offense, be the 
 punishment what it may. But innocent or guilty, I feel 
 that God wants us to reach even the prison-bound and tell 
 them of His wondrous love ; to carry to them His word, 
 “That whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but 
 have everlasting life that “Though their sins be as scarlet 
 He will make them white as snow.” 
 
 A case comes to my mind of a Hebrew, who came from 
 Chicago to New Orleans representing a clothing store. He 
 engaged rooms at a hotel. The manager made a mistake 
 as to the arrival of this guest, so could not accommodate him 
 on account of being over-crowded. He was piloted to a 
 fifth-rate boarding house, where he met a confidence man 
 
22 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 who invited him on his first night in town to see some of 
 the sights. He went and saw more than he wanted to see. 
 After a stroll down Canal street, they turned into Basin 
 street and entered a fine looking house where beautiful 
 women and wine made him careless as to his surroundings. 
 One of the women grew familiar. He felt her going through 
 his pockets ; he drew away from her, and took his hat to 
 leave, but she held on. He cried “Police,” the woman cried 
 “Police,” and he was thrown out of the door onto the side- 
 walk. An officer hearing a noise, came, arrested the inno- 
 cent man, charged him with drunkenness, disturbing the 
 peace, and assault and battery. He protested, and tried to 
 tell his side of the story. The. woman had relieved him of 
 the contents of his purse and destroyed the purse with his 
 traveling papers. There was no evidence to hold the 
 woman, and his new friend could not be found. I saw him 
 three days after his arrest. He told me his troubles, saying, 
 “I can get no one here to carry a message for me, or to give 
 me a stamp, or a sheet of paper to write my firm. In fact, 
 I really feel ashamed to have them know of this trouble, 
 but I must write.’’ I gave him the stationery he required, 
 he wrote the letter and I mailed it. The answer came to 
 my address; I took it to him, the deputy opened it in my 
 presence. It contained a check for $200.00, made payable to 
 him. He was taken out by a deputy to cash the check, had 
 his trial and was discharged after having been in prison 
 four weeks. There are hundreds of cases similar to this. 
 
 One morning, as I went out into the yard where the 
 colored men are kept, a man approached me asking that 
 I write a letter to his wife in one of the country parishes. I 
 did this for him. He had been arrested and charged with 
 grand larceny by his former employer. I asked him why 
 he had desired to be a thief. The reply came in indignant 
 tones: “Madam, nothing is further from my mind.” He 
 explained, “I would pay my employer if I had the money; 
 he did not give me the chance. I acknowledge I am in- 
 debted to him, not that I have stolen or obtained merchan- 
 dise with any bad or dishonest intention. This he knows. 
 I worked on his farm for five years at 75 cents per day. I 
 received my pay every two weeks in brass checks, which I 
 had to spend at my employer’s store. The clerks generally 
 charged two prices more than the village store. When 
 
TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION 
 
 23 
 
 winter came, although I received increased pay for about 
 two months, and a half, I could not save enough to keep 
 the wolf from the door, and pay up my debts after the 
 winter season. So to keep my wife and three children alive, 
 I was compelled to make a bill at the plantation store. My 
 wife and children were all sick from time to time during the 
 year, and we got behind further instead of catching up. 
 After five years of hard struggle and no headway, I became 
 disgusted and discouraged. I went to my employer to rea- 
 son out the case with him, saying I wanted to pay him, but 
 would never be able to do so at the present rate ; that I 
 would leave my family for a few weeks, go off, make some 
 money, pay him what I could and remove my family; that 
 he would know just where I would be, and I would pay 
 him right along until the whole bill was settled. He seemed 
 to sympathize with me and consented, for he had never had 
 any cause to doubt my honesty. Of course I wanted my 
 children to learn to read and write. We have only six 
 weeks public school in the country during the year and no 
 money with which to buy books. Accordingly I came to 
 the city, and soon found work, driving a float for $9.00 per 
 week. I had not been working two weeks when my former 
 employer heard of this, came to the city, and had me ar- 
 rested for obtaining goods under false pretenses to the 
 amount of $120.00. I was tried, found guilty and sentenced 
 to two years’ imprisonment in the State Penitentiary.” 
 
 And this is one of the reasons why so many Negroes in 
 the South are charged with larceny. Sometimes they have 
 a little money to pay a lawyer to defend them. In many 
 cases the lawyer will take the last cent they have, and if 
 he knows they have no friends to look after them he will 
 stay away from court, the prisoner thus going to trial with- 
 out the lawyer putting in his appearance. In such cases the 
 court very often appoints a lawyer to look after a prisoner, 
 but as I have said before, in some instances these lawyers 
 are careless as they know nothing is to be had from the 
 prisoner. I have had occasion time and again to go and 
 look up a lawyer to remind him of a poor prisoner’s case. 
 Of course they never enjoy being reported to the judge, 
 but on this point, indeed, I am not very delicate. 
 
 There are some kind and gentlemanly attorneys, how- 
 ever, who have assisted me all they could in helping friend- 
 
24 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 less prisoners, though they receive not a penny for the help 
 given. 
 
 One day as I entered the colored prison department, I 
 was shown an old white-haired man lying on the bare stones. 
 As I approached him I heard a sob ; then I saw he was wip- 
 ing the tears from his eyes with an old rag, which had once 
 been a handkerchief. I stooped and patted him on the 
 shoulder, saying: “There now, don’t cry, sit up, tell me your 
 troubles, perhaps I can help you.” As I said this I could 
 not prevent the tears coming to my own eyes. He raised 
 himself on his elbow, rubbed his dim eyes as if in doubt 
 that he saw aright, then looking me over, said, “Poor child, 
 what are you in here for?” I smiled and replied, “To help 
 the friendless.” The old gentleman brightened up and ex- 
 claimed, “Praise the Lord, honey, do you think you kin help 
 me ter git out’n here?” I said, “Tell me your trouble and 
 I’ll see What I can do for you.” He smiled then. I thought 
 of sunshine through the rain as I looked on that dear old 
 face, wrinkled with the cares of many years. It was then 
 that he related to me how he got in prison. 
 
 “I was taken quite sick in de spring, and de doctor in 
 Bayou Boeuf (some distance from the city) could not break 
 de fever; so my old marster’s son, who I had always been 
 living with, ’vised me ter come to de city and take treat- 
 ment in de hospital. He put me on de train and when de 
 train reached de city de wagin come and tuck me to de 
 Charity Hospital. I was kept there five weeks, den dey said 
 I could go home. No letter come from young marster, and 
 I had no money ter go home. I had fifteen cents one Ger- 
 man give me, so I buys a loaf er bread and er piece er ham 
 for ten cents and den I had five cents ter cross de ferry in 
 Algiers. I gits on de track ter walk home. When I walk 
 bout a mile de policeman comes up ter me, and tells me ter 
 git off out’n de track, kase I’m in de way of de kai'S. I tell 
 him de kars ain’t in my way and keep right on walking ter 
 Bayou Boeuf. He kotch up wid me, say he’s gwine ter 
 ’rest me. I ax him what fer, he says kase you will walk 
 on de track. I tell him I ain’t gwine ter hurt de track. He 
 say I know dat, but de engine will hurt you ’fore you have 
 time ter git out’n de way, um gwine ter lock yer up. I beg 
 him fer ter let me go, but no use. He fetch me fore de 
 judge, de judge say, ‘Whar do you live, old man?’ I say, 
 
TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION 
 
 25 
 
 ‘Bayou Boeuf and I want ter go thar’. The judge say ‘How’s 
 yer gwine ter git thar?’ I say, ‘Walk.’ He shuck his head 
 and say, ‘You too ole, ole man, I sen yer ter de parish prison 
 fer thirty days.’ Den dey fotch me in here, chile; it’s just 
 like breakin’ my heart, kase I know I been ’spectable all 
 my life and never was in jail ’fore dis, den ter see I am put 
 in jail kase um poor and fer trying ter walk home.” 
 
 The old gentleman broke down here and began to weep 
 bitterly. He said he was nearly ninety years old, surely he 
 didn’t look a day younger. I tried to comfort him all I 
 could. I left the prison, crossed the river on the ferry, 
 walked two squares and reached the court building, where 
 I found the judge, who said there was nothing else to do but 
 send the old gentleman where he did; but if I could find a 
 place for him to stay he would give me a release for him. 
 I thanked him, went back to the city, to the Old Folks’ 
 Home. They would not receive him there unless I agreed 
 to pay a certain amount of money every month. This I 
 could not do, yet I had given my word as a Christian. I 
 must try my best to get him out, but where to take him I 
 knew not. I concluded to see the Mayor (Mr. Flower). I 
 soon reached the City Hall where I found His Honor, who 
 greeted me with a pleasant smile as he arose and came 
 forward to inquire what he could do for me. I replied. “A 
 good deal.” I related the story of the old man and my 
 dilemma, and wound up by asking if he could not send the 
 old man to the Shakespeare Almshouse where the poor of 
 the city are kept. He replied, “Oh, if I might, Mrs. Joseph, 
 but I am afraid I cannot; you know that place is for white.” 
 “Only them !’’ I exclaimed, my voice vibrating with right- 
 eous indignation. “Do you mean to tell me, your Honor, 
 there is no place in the city’s poor house for an old Negro, 
 who has given the best years of his life to enrich his white 
 masters, to build up his country, and now when he is feeble 
 and without shelter or a single friend, must be cast off as 
 though he were a dumb beast !” 
 
 This noble gentleman then hung his head, saying: “I 
 am sorry, but this is true. I know 'this is not right, but 
 like many others, I don’t see how I can change it, but I’ll try 
 to help you. I will tell you what I’ll do. I will give you a 
 note to the president of the Board. Go and see him, have 
 a talk with him, possibly he will take the old man for you.” 
 
26 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Off I hurried, six squares away to see the president of 
 the Board. He was polite, attentive and listened to my 
 pleadings. Then said, “Well, it’s against the rules to take 
 colored people in the Almshouse, but I will break this rule 
 to help you out. Here is an order to the Superintendent 
 telling him to admit the old man.” I thanked him for his 
 kindness, took the order, went home, for it was then too 
 late to cross the river and get the release. The next day 
 was very stormy, so I was compelled to remain indoors. 
 Friday dawned bright and clear. I was at the prison on 
 time to see the old man and tell him I could remove him 
 that day; but to my surprise the kind-hearted Captain Ful- 
 ham informed me that the old gentleman became quite ill 
 shortly after I left him, and that he had sent him to the 
 hospital. I thought it best to go to see him before going 
 over the river for the release. Just as I turned the corner 
 from the prison I met the porter in the employ of the T. & 
 P. R. R., whose acquaintance I had formed on a recent trip 
 over that road. He stopped, shook hands with me and 
 asked: “Are you still in the prison work?” “Oh, yes,’’ I 
 answered, “I am on my way now to the hospital to see one 
 of the prisoners who is being treated there.” “Oh, I am 
 going there to see someone myself, and if you have no ob- 
 jections, Fll walk along with you.” As we proceeded I 
 told him of the old man in whom I was interested. I told 
 him where he was from. He said, “Perhaps I know him, 
 for I know many people in Bayou Boeuf. What is his 
 name?” I told him. He answered, “Well, of course, I 
 know the old man ; know him quite well. Fll take him home 
 if you can raise half of his fare.” I opened my purse, count- 
 ed its contents, seventy cents all told. “Well that isn’t half, 
 but Fll take it and try to get the old man home if he is 
 better.” We reached the hospital and were soon being led 
 through the long scrupulously clean hall by a kind, soft- 
 voiced Sister of Charity, into the wards where the colored 
 males are kept. We found the old man cheerful and beg- 
 ging to be let out as he was feeling well. I told the keeper 
 I had permission to take him out and would like to get him. 
 “Well, where is your order given by the judge,” he ex- 
 claimed. “Oh, Fll have to go over the river,” I said, “to 
 the committing magistrate to get that, and I am quite sure 
 His Honor is gone from the court now, or will be by the 
 
TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION 
 
 27 
 
 time I reach the court. I wish you would turn him over to 
 me to-day. Here is my address, and you may hold me re- 
 sponsible.” As the warden knew me quite well he took my 
 word when I promised to take an order to the captain of 
 the prison in twelve hours from that time. The old man 
 held my hand and kissed it. We left the ward, passed 
 through the yard, then out on the sidewalk where the porter 
 was waiting for him. The old man smiled and smiled 
 again, then laughed outright, saying, “Praise de Lord who 
 answers prayer.” Then turning to me he again kissed' my 
 hand and said. “My child, God bless you, honey; God bless 
 you. He is gwine ter pay yer sho’s yer born. Keep on in 
 de good works. I’ll never forget you as long as I live and 
 I'm gwine ter pray fer yer as long’s I live. I’m gwine ter 
 pray fer yer tell I draw my last breff.” I saw him on the 
 train and waved farewell to that dear old happy face. 
 
 I was far from home, weary and penniless. I had not 
 carfare, and there stood a car that would take me within one 
 square of my home for five cents ; but I was content to w r alk. 
 Though penniless I was rich and happy, with a heart sing- 
 ing for joy. Why? Because I had made that poor old soul 
 happy. I had done the Master’s will. I could hear His 
 voice whispering, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one 
 of the least of these, ye have done it unto Me.” 
 
 Yes, my heart was light and free. I had done some- 
 thing for Christ. I walked the distance of two miles 
 feeling I was treading on air. I reached home to find a 
 letter containing $5.00 to help me bear my burdens. This 
 came from Bishop Holley of Port an Prince, Hayti. He 
 had never seen me, but read of my work and sympathized 
 with me the right way. He sent, also, words of comfort 
 and encouragement; and I could understand David the 
 Psalmist more fully then — for the Lord made him sing, 
 “Trust in the Lord and do good, and verily thou shalt be 
 fed.” 
 
 The next day I went over the river, secured the order 
 of release from the magistrate for the prisoner who had 
 been sent to the hospital, and from there released on my 
 recommendation. I thanked him, took the order to Captain 
 Fulham and felt relieved. I then went into the prison to 
 carry a few stamps and stationery to some prisoners whom 
 I had promised to help. 
 
28 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Having thus finished my mission I passed through the 
 hall to see a poor old white haired mother, weeping as she 
 sat talking to her son who had been arrested the night be- 
 fore for stabbing to death, in a barroom brawl, a friend. As 
 I passed her she arose to her feet, then seemed about to fall 
 when I caught her arm. I tried to comfort her by words 
 of encouragement as I led her out of the prison. “Oh,” she 
 said, “you don’t know the bitter pains my child has caused 
 me — my child a murderer!” Her blue eyes were bathed in 
 tears, her lips were trembling with emotion as she spoke. 
 I went with this dear old mother to the car and helped her 
 on. Ah, how my heart ached for her ! I sent up a prayer 
 to God to comfort her in her distress, for I know a mother’s 
 love for her child. 
 
 As I was standing on the corner waiting for a car a 
 sweet-faced girl of fourteen years approached me. I kissed 
 her and as I had stood by the deathbed of her mother five 
 years before I felt anxious to know how she was getting 
 on. With this question she hung her head and said: “I am 
 not at home now, I ran away, as papa is always drinking 
 and he is so cruel. When in liquor he will take anything to 
 strike me with.” She bared her arm and showed me a cut 
 just above the elbow, more than two inches long. This ugly 
 wound had been made by a knife her father had thrown at 
 her. She said, in answer to my question, “I am staying with 
 some friends of mamma’s.” I went with her to the place 
 and found they were very nice and respectable, though poor 
 people. After being introduced to this family and having 
 a pleasant chat with them I bade them good-bye, but not 
 until I had given this innocent child some good sound ad- 
 vice. I felt satisfied, however, she was in good hands. 
 
 A drunken father, no mother or near relatives, thrown 
 upon the mercies of a cruel world, what little chance would 
 this dear child have to be good and virtuous? Were it not 
 for the kindly feelings of dear friends, what then ! How 
 many promising young lives thus placed have been ruined 
 and wrecked ! 
 
A STRANGER IN THE CITY 
 
 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A STRANGER IN THE CITY. 
 
 A few days later I received a letter from a white mother 
 in Alabama, whose son was in prison in New Orleans, 
 charged with being an accessory to pocket-picking. She 
 begged me to see him as though he were my own son and 
 to help him all I could. Such a tender, touching letter full 
 of a mother’s love ! I could not do otherwise than write, 
 promising to do all I could for her boy, her fatherless child. 
 I went to the prison the next day and had the young man 
 called out into the consulting room, and showed him his 
 mother’s letter. He read it, bowed his head, screened his 
 eyes with his left hand while with his right he reached for 
 his handkerchief to dry the fast falling tears. I said to him, 
 “Now come, tell me just how you came into this.” He 
 began, “About three weeks ago I bade my mother good- 
 bye, and came to New Orleans to try to set up a dental 
 office, as I thought in a large city there was a better chance 
 than in a small town. I spent all the money I had in fitting 
 up the office. I formed the acquaintance of two young men 
 where I was rooming. They were pretty lively, and I went 
 out with them often. We were all standing in a crowd 
 during the night parade of the Carnival, when two ladies 
 nearby cried out some one had picked their pockets. They 
 pointed out the two young men whom I was with ; they 
 were arrested and I with them. We were all searched and 
 some articles found on both of the young men which were 
 subsequently identified by these ladies. I confess I was 
 very much surprised, as I did not think they would do this. 
 Although nothing was found on me, and they were fair 
 enough to tell the officers I took no part in the theft, yet I 
 was charged equally with them. I am perfectly innocent, 
 madam. Well, we were given a preliminary hearing and 
 sent to the criminal court. Now you know it all. I have no 
 money and my poor old mother, nearly eighty years old, 
 and whom I fear this will kill, has none. I have some valu- 
 able instruments in my office and — ’’ 
 
 “Never mind that,” I interrupted. I went over to the 
 court and asked to see the papers of commitment. The 
 docket clerks all knew me and allowed me to read the 
 charges and remarks by the committing magistrate. I was 
 
30 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 satisfied. I said to myself, “I believe my boy not guilty.” 
 On reaching home I found another letter from the troubled 
 mother. This letter contained $10.00. She told me she had 
 borrowed this, and to try to do all I could to get her son 
 liberated ; again asked in her absence that I be a mother to 
 him. Her husband, who was long since dead, was once a 
 United States Senator. I took the money and called on a 
 first-class white lawyer, told him of the young man, his par- 
 ents, his aged mother, thinking he would sympathize with 
 him and take the case cheap, but he wanted $50, and said he 
 would not take the case for less. I made up my mind to get 
 all the favorable evidence I could from his town, with his 
 mother’s help. Having secured this, I took the letters when 
 the trial came up and went as a witness on the stand, proved 
 he had a good character, was never in prison before and was 
 simply a victim of circumstances. The district attorney 
 argued long and hard to convict all three. The case was 
 given to the jury, they were out about an hour when they 
 filed into court, rendered a verdict of guilty for two ; but my 
 boy was liberated. I had the ten dollars his poor mother 
 sent, placed it in his hand and told him to go home to his 
 dear old mother. He handed the money back to me, saying 
 he wished he could give me fifty times as much. I wrote 
 a long letter telling the mother that her son was free. In 
 the meantime he had disposed of such instruments as he 
 could and boarded a train for home. She wrote thanking 
 me as only a grateful mother could. I was happy because 
 I had made these happy. God helped him to return to his 
 aged mother as did the Prodigal Son. Let this also be a 
 caution to young men as to the company they select. 
 
 The next week found me again in the prison yard. The 
 white prisoners were lined up. I was asking them the usual 
 question: “Does anyone want me to write a letter for him, 
 hunt up his lawyer or carry a message? If so, leave the 
 line.” Only one came over to me. He spoke in a low tone, 
 saying: “I wish to speak to you privately.” “All right,” I 
 answered, “come this way.’’ The deputy sheriff let us into 
 the consulting room, and he related his troubles to me as 
 follows: “Just two weeks ago I was married by a certain 
 judge at 10 o’clock a. m. I returned with my wife to her 
 home, and left her there with our two friends who had 
 served as witnesses to the marriage. I went back to the 
 
A STRANGER IN THE CITY 
 
 31 
 
 judg'e to get information as to how I might keep our mar- 
 riage out of the newspapers as my wife was still wearing 
 her long mourning veil for her husband. He had been dead 
 only five months, and we had agreed to live apart till she 
 had been a widow one year, when we were to live together 
 and announce our wedding. On my return I passed a 
 saloon. A female whom I had occasionally visited emerged 
 from the door. She sprang at me and accused me of having 
 jilted her for the wealthy widow. She tore my shirt front 
 out, then hung onto me as I vainly tried to free myself 
 from her. The police came, arrested us both. I tried to 
 explain, but he would not listen to me. He placed us in the 
 patrol and drove off to the prison. I sent a note to my 
 friend, who had served as best man, asking him to come to 
 me. He came and I explained the case to him and begged 
 him to tell my wife how it all happened, as I heard this trou- 
 ble was published in the evening papers and that it was 
 stated that I had gone to the woman’s house to fight her. 
 My friend promised he would do as I asked him and would 
 return to tell me how my wife took it. He did return and 
 told me she had sworn never to see me again as I had left 
 her before I had even time to kiss her as my wife, and 
 sought the company of this vile creature which resulted in 
 a public scandal and newspaper sensation. She said she 
 was going to have the marriage set aside and obtain a di- 
 vorce as soon as possible without publicity. To make mat- 
 ters worse, I have not the money to pay my fine. I had 
 ten dollars, but gave that to the lawyer. I gave all the 
 money I had, seventy dollars, to my wife. I am a conductor 
 on one of the railroads running out of the city. I have no 
 friends here to borrow of, but I feel that you can help me, 
 if you will, and when I am out of this I shall not forget 
 you. What I desire you to do for me is this : Please go and 
 see my wife and talk to her. I think she will hear you and 
 possibly pay my fine.” With this he was crying. 
 
 “Very well,” I replied, “give me her address and I'll go 
 and have a talk with her.” I went to see the lady, notwith- 
 standing it was after two o’clock and I had had nothing but 
 tea since morning at six. Opposite was a restaurant, but 
 being a Negro the laws of my state prevented my being 
 served. I boarded a car. In a little while I left it and found 
 the house of the widow. The house was such an aristocratic 
 
32 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 one, I feared I had made a mistake. However, I rang the 
 bell and a maid came to the door, when I asked if Mrs. B. 
 was in. She answered “Yes,” and I handed her my card. 
 She invited me into the parlor, where her madam entered 
 holding my card in her hand and eyeing me rather curiously. 
 I arose, approached her asking, “Are you Mrs. B.?” “Yes,” 
 she answered. As the maid was still lingering in the parlor 
 I inquired, “May I see you alone, please?” She turned to 
 the maid saying, “You may leave us now.” She bade me 
 be seated, asking, “What is your mission?” 
 
 I began : “A gentleman in prison requested me to come 
 and see you.” Flushing and looking somewhat excited, 
 she answered, “Yes, I know, and I do not wish to hear 
 anything from him. I have received all of his messages 
 through his friend. I am disappointed in him. No gentle- 
 man would do what he has done. I am perfectly decided in 
 the matter.” It developed during her angry and hasty re- 
 marks that she was acting solely upon the advice and sug- 
 gestion of the gentleman who had carried the messages, and 
 who was, himself, desperately in love with Mrs. B., and 
 thinking this was his opportunity, had endeavored to make 
 the best of the situation. 
 
 I felt satisfied that if the friend of the prisoner were 
 true and repeated the truth of the case, there would be no 
 doubt as to the bride sympathizing with her husband and 
 that she would stand by him if she loved him. 
 
 I felt anxious to have her know the whole truth, al- 
 though her rage was at its highest pitch at that moment. 
 Just how to get her to listen to reason was the thing that 
 most perplexed me. 
 
 I had seen the prisoner’s railroad papers, also the mar- 
 riage certificate. He was such a genteel looking man I saw 
 at once he was respectable and such he proved to be. He 
 had explained that he did not want the railroad officials to 
 know of the trouble for fear of losing his position. The 
 wife did not want the other matter made public either, for 
 she did not want even her relatives to know of the mar- 
 riage. I said to her : “Do you not know that you could not 
 secure a divorce without some publicity? Do you not know 
 you would have to prove yourself justified in suing for 
 divorce? Do you not love the man whom you married? 
 Do you not know there are two sides to this story? Have 
 
A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES 
 
 33 
 
 the newspapers and friends so taken possession of you that 
 you refuse positively to hear your husband’s side of the 
 story? I believe from his conversation with me that he 
 loves you, and as a Christian, I would ask you to go to see 
 him. Would you divorce yourself from him for a matter 
 over which he might not have had control at the time being? 
 Won’t you at least pay his fine, which is $25.00, that he may 
 not lose his position?” Finally she agreed to go to the 
 prison if I would accompany her, to see him. At about 
 three o’clock p. nt. we reached the prison. I had the deputy 
 call the prisoner out into the consulting room, where he and 
 his wife engaged in a private conversation. I left them to 
 their fate, thinking I had done well under the circumstances. 
 
 Two days later she called to see me, expressed her 
 thankfulness, showed her good sense in taking my advice, 
 saying her husband loved her, and that he was blameless for 
 the occurrence; that his fine had been paid, he had been 
 liberated and had gone on the road to resume his work. At 
 the end of one year, as agreed, their wedding was announced 
 and they went to housekeeping with much joy and happi- 
 ness. They both remembered me. 
 
 God is always ready to bring peace out of confusion, 
 to make the hilly way level and the crooked path straight. 
 I thank Him for having helped me in bringing about this 
 peace and reconciliation. There are a good many more 
 criminals out of prison than there are in, their minds filled 
 with vice. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES. 
 
 One morning as I entered the yard for colored prison- 
 ers I noticed a little fellow of about twelve years among 
 the male prisoners. I called him and asked him on what 
 charge he had been brought in. Fie replied, “The peeler 
 took me in; I was with some larger boys who had picked 
 up old iron on the levee and we are waiting to be tried.” I 
 took the names of the boys, then went to the District At- 
 torney and begged him to have the boys brought to trial 
 as soon as possible. They were tried and discharged two 
 weeks later while I was at Baton Rouge, La., trying to get 
 evidence that would justify me in applying for a commuta- 
 
34 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 tion of sentence for a deserving prisoner whom I was 
 desirous of keeping from the State Prison. 
 
 One month after the discharge of the boys I visited the 
 prison yard, and to my sorrow I espied Achille Roberts, took 
 him to one side and asked, “Now, what are you doing here 
 again?’’ He hung his head and said, “Sister Joseph, I prom- 
 ised you not to do anything to get me back here. That first 
 time I had done no wrong; I met ‘Long Jim’ and ‘Slickey’ 
 in here and their time was up the same day I got out. They 
 told me to come with them to their home, that they would 
 give me good clothes and plenty to eat. I had to beg when 
 I was living with Aunt Martha, so I thought I would go 
 with them. They would sleep all day and go out only at 
 night. They would always have a plenty of canned goods 
 and hams in their house. One night they made me go out 
 with them. They went to a large wholesale grocery store 
 with a wagon. They broke open the transom and made 
 me crawl through it. I jumped down inside, unbolted the 
 doors and let them in. They stole four sacks of coffee, a 
 keg of whiskey and some other things. We were caught as 
 the wagon was going off. We were all brought here and 
 we are charged with breaking and entering in the night 
 time.” As he confessed, the tears were falling fast and I 
 felt I was guilty of the sin of omission, for had I taken 
 charge of him that first time I would have kept him from 
 this. Achille was tried with the men. All were sentenced 
 to five years of hard labor at the State Prison. Six months 
 later I went to the State Prison to try and get the official 
 to recommend a pardon for this child. I found him in the 
 prison hospital sick with pneumonia. He recognized me, 
 and gave me his feeble hand saying, “Sister, I am so glad 
 you have come. I have been wanting to see you to tell you 
 I am never to do another wrong thing. Now, won’t you 
 sing that hymn you used to make us sing in the prison 
 yard?” I consented and sang: 
 
 I need Thee every hour, 
 
 Most gracious Lord. 
 
 No tender voice like Thine 
 Can peace afford. 
 
 I need Thee, O, I need Thee, 
 
 Every hour I need Thee ; 
 
A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES 
 
 35 
 
 0 bless me now, my Saviour, 
 
 1 come to Thee. 
 
 I need Thee every hour, 
 
 Stay Thou near by; 
 
 Temptations lose their power 
 
 When Thou art nigh. 
 
 I need Thee, O, I need Thee, 
 
 Every hour I need Thee ; 
 
 0 bless me now, my Saviour, 
 
 1 come to Thee. 
 
 I held his hand, then prayed for him. He pressed my 
 hand. I sang “Jesus Lover of my Soul,” and in a few min- 
 utes left him. 
 
 Having left a post-card with a convalescent prisoner, 
 he wrote me three days later that Achille was dead. There 
 being no relatives to claim the orphan’s remains, he was 
 buried in an unmarked grave. It was well he died, as living, 
 he might have gone on with the criminals, made such by the 
 state in its school of vice. 
 
 Achille has passed from time but not from memory. 
 Ever and anon, I see that pale-faced child dying in the prison 
 hospital, friendless, with no earthly hope — nothing to live 
 for. I now know what David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, 
 felt when he said : “I wandered up and down and no man 
 cared for my soul.’’ 
 
 The following letter was written me by a white man, 
 telling me of a prisoner who was so cruelly treated that he 
 committed suicide to relieve himself of the daily whippings : 
 
 “Angola, La., August 3. 1902. 
 
 Sister Frances Joseph, 
 
 New Orleans, La. 
 
 “Dear Sister — No doubt you will be surprised at the 
 perusal of this letter. But believe me, dear Sister, I write 
 this in the name of humanity, knowing you to be kind and 
 humane at all times and in all cases and to take up a just 
 cause. I am a white man and notwithstanding that I 
 thought it my duty in the name of the Almighty God and 
 in the name of humanity that I should inform you of some- 
 thing that happened to one of your own color who was a 
 
36 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 convict on Angola farm. On the morning of July 25, there 
 was a watch stolen from one of the brickmasons now at 
 work on the farm. Convict A. Masino, colored, happened 
 to be cooking for the masons on the day above mentioned 
 when the watch was stolen; and of course, he being a pris- 
 oner, was accused of the theft. Well, he was ordered by the 
 manager of the farm, H. M. Rhodes by name, to be lashed 
 by the Captain in charge of quarters, B. Blackmore by 
 name. Well, he was lashed that morning and protested his 
 innocence. Notwithstanding that, he was lashed every 
 morning up to August 3, he still protesting his innocence. 
 This morning, when he was brought to work, he was asked 
 where he had put the watch and he told them that he had 
 put it at the landing by the river side. When he got by 
 himself he told them he would get the watch from the water. 
 Well, being so frightened and threatened with another lash- 
 ing, he jumped into the river and committed suicide, and 
 there was no effort made to save him. Having only one 
 arm he was unable to swim out, and at this writing, noon 
 time, August 3, his body still lies at the bottom of the Mis- 
 sissippi river. 
 
 “Now, dear Sister, I have told you all I know, and all 
 I ask you is to make an investigation of this, and in the 
 name of the Almighty God, see that justice is done for the 
 sake of the poor unfortunate prisoners on this farm, who 
 have no show for their lives. 
 
 “I will withhold my name for reasons best known to 
 myself.” 
 
 I took this matter up with the proper authorities with 
 the following result : 
 
 BOARD OF CONTROL, STATE PENITENTIARY 
 
 C. Harrison Parker, R. N. Sims G. A. Killgore, 
 
 President. Treas. and Secty. 
 
 (Seal) Baton Rouge, La., Aug. 14, 1902. 
 
 Governor W. W. Heard, 
 
 Governor of Louisiana. 
 
 Sir — Enclosed herewith please find copy of letter writ- 
 ten by Warden Reynaud giving fully the facts concerning 
 
A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCES 
 
 37 
 
 the drowning of Prisoner Alphonse Masino, together with 
 a letter making inquiry concerning this matter which you 
 directed to us for report. 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 (Signed) C. Harrison Parker, 
 
 President. 
 
 2 enclosures. 
 
 “State of Louisiana, Executive Department, Baton Rouge. 
 
 “August 18, 1902. 
 
 “Mrs. Frances A. Joseph, 
 
 2611 St. Ann Street, 
 
 New Orleans, La. 
 
 “Dear Madam — The Governor directs me to acknow- 
 ledge receipt of your letter of the 12th instant, enclosing 
 copy of an anonymous letter from the convict farm alleging 
 harsh and cruel treatment of the convict Alphonse Masino, 
 who was drowned a short while ago. 
 
 “In reply, the Governor desires to say that he had heard 
 of the unfortunate occurrence before receiving your letter, 
 and had made inquiries as to the facts, but not remembering 
 them in detail he referred your letter to the Board of Con- 
 trol, who replied that they would make an official investi- 
 gation and report the result to him. This report has been 
 made and it is herewith enclosed. 
 
 “The Governor on his recent visit to Angola took occa- 
 sion, besides, to make special inquiries into this case. The 
 manager told the Governor that there was no doubt that 
 Masino had stolen the watch of a colored brick mason and 
 when charged with this theft Masino ran away and, as 
 stated in the report, he was gone for one night and part of 
 two days before his capture. He served in the capacity of 
 a “trusty,” which means that he was not required to work 
 in the sun and was given certain privileges not accorded to 
 the other convicts. For this theft he was given ten lashes 
 and on the day following, eleven more as a punishment for 
 running away. This was all the punishment inflicted upon 
 him. He was then put back under the guards and on the 
 morning of the 3rd, of his own motion, he told the Sergeant 
 that if he would go with him he would take him (the Ser- 
 geant) to the place where he had buried the watch. Before 
 starting the prisoner had soiled his clothes and he asked 
 permission to go to the river to wash himself. On arriving 
 
38 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 there, he stripped, washed his clothes and then got into 
 deep water, making no effort to save himself. A pole was 
 extended to him which he would not seize and other con- 
 victs formed a chain by holding each other by the hand to 
 endeavor to save him. But Masino refused all this assist- 
 ance and was drowned. 
 
 “It seems that he had taken some kind of mixture, the 
 nature of which had not yet been ascertained in the exam- 
 ination of a vial found in his possession, which had pro- 
 duced a violent irritation of his bowels. The manager was 
 of the opinion that Masino either committed suicide or was 
 seized with a cramp while in the water. 
 
 “No cruel or inhuman treatment of the convicts is per- 
 mitted and the Governor feels sure that those in charge of 
 the convicts carry out the instructions of the Board of 
 Control. 
 
 “Very respectfully, 
 
 “(Signed) Leon Jastremski, 
 
 Private Secretary.” 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE OLD WORKHOUSE. 
 
 When Masino realized there was no redemption for 
 him from this miserable life of torture he was almost fit for 
 the insane asylum ; no, not that, for I would rather someone 
 would kill me than put me into some of the insane asylums. 
 One keeper of an asylum in Louisiana would strangle frac- 
 tious patients in a large bath-tub of water, and when the 
 patients were more dead than alive, resuscitate them. On 
 one of these occasions, the patient never came to. When 
 indigent, insane people are found a policeman goes and 
 arrests them. They are taken to the prison and locked up. 
 When the Coroner has nothing to do, he goes out to see 
 them. Sometimes it takes him over a week to do so. I 
 have seen in a prison a white woman on one of the coldest 
 days in January, with only an old piece of jute bagging tied 
 around her lower limbs and an old alpaca coat covering her 
 body, her bare feet blue and sore from exposure. In the 
 same old workhouse was a colored woman perfectly nude, 
 locked in a cell. There was no heat for either of them, for 
 the old place had no heater or place to make fire. These 
 
THE OLD WORK-HOUSE. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 . J 
 
 l 
 
 
 
 
 
THE OLD WORKHOUSE 
 
 39 
 
 sights made me a beggar. I begged clothes from both my 
 white and colored friends. I looked like a Santa Clauo 
 going to the jail every day for a week, until I had all clad. 
 I have often thought of the cruelty of arresting people, 
 arraigning them in a court before a judge, who sentences 
 the sick to pay a fine or suffer imprisonment for 30 or 60 
 days while they are under the influence of cocaine or opium. 
 In advanced cases he places them in prison to await examin- 
 ation by the coroner who may keep them waiting from one 
 to three months before deportation to an asylum be made. 
 The fines collected from those who are addicted to the use 
 of the above deadly drugs are placed in the City’s treasury 
 to help pay the judge who imposes the fine. Some of these 
 poor weak creatures are made fiends through careless phy- 
 sicians who use the drug to allay every little pain the flesh 
 is heir to, thus creating victims to a most baneful practice. 
 
 The old workhouse has given me many anxious mo- 
 ments; it is situated at the corner of the old Girod Ceme- 
 tery, taking about a half square of ground. Here several 
 old one-story buildings were used to house the prisoners 
 and the city’s indigent insane. The long halls, about 20x60 
 feet, with rows of shelves on either side, were used for the 
 prisoner’s sleeping quarters. As I have already stated there 
 was no way to heat these places in winter, and the suffer- 
 ing of these unfortunates was pitiable. 
 
 I have gone to the workhouse to carry a Jewish boy 
 some salve to put on an ugly sore, and some rose water for 
 a colored girl to wash her eyes. I have heard rumors about 
 the superintendent’s conduct toward the women prisoners, 
 and saw him in one of the dormitories patting a German 
 girl on her shoulder. She did not seem to like his familiarity 
 or his words. When he was gone, I got a chance to speak 
 to her, and asked her if he was kind. She answered me, 
 “No, unless he can do as he likes with you.” I asked what 
 that was. She replied, “Say nothing when he comes in the 
 ward at night.” I asked if she would be willing to repeat 
 this and she said she could not ; that she would get a good 
 dose of the dungeon, and bread and water. She had not 
 been long in America, she was working out in a family, 
 went to a Sunday picnic, got into a row with another girl, 
 when both were arrested and fined ten dollars or thirty 
 
40 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 days at the workhouse, and as no one paid her fine she was 
 incarcerated. 
 
 I had heard some ugly rumors concerning the conduct 
 of the superintendent and keepers of this place ; the men 
 had charge of the keys that locked the doors of the women’s 
 cells as there were no night matrons. 
 
 Mr. Patrick Westfeldt, one of the officers of the Prison 
 Reform Association, which was organized several years 
 after I started in the work, sent me a message, requesting 
 me to go to this place and get a baby from a crazy woman 
 who had been arrested that day on the streets. March 3rd 
 was a cold day. I went to a friend’s house on the way to 
 the prison and requested her to go with me. She consented. 
 When we arrived at the prison it was 8:30 p. m. I knocked 
 and was admitted with my friend, Mrs. Sarofield. The su- 
 perintendent had been drinking; his foul breath and un- 
 steady gait told that. When I told him my mission he 
 began cursing and abusing the Prison Reform Association 
 for sending me with an order for the baby. He took a 
 lantern, bade us follow him, which we did. He unlocked the 
 long barn-like dormitory and stepped inside. We followed, 
 looking on either side of the place where women were 
 stretched on bare shelves, shivering under their light cov- 
 ering of old ragged blankets — and well might we say with 
 Burns : “Man’s inhumanity to man makes countless thou- 
 sands mourn.” At the very end we came upon the crazy 
 woman and her babe of seven months. Another woman 
 had squeezed on the shelf with her and they were trying to 
 keep the baby warm between them. I asked the crazy 
 woman to let me take the baby with me to my home for the 
 night, where it would be kept comfortable, and on the mor- 
 row I would get her out. She clung to her baby and would 
 not let me have it nor even touch it, and answered, “No, 
 Sister Joseph, you take us both out to-night.” I then recog- 
 nized by the superintendent’s dirty lantern the crazy girl 
 I had seen in that same prison sixteen months before, a 
 pretty young mulattress of fifteen years, who had attempted 
 to kill her father while in a fit. She had been under the 
 superintendent’s charge for ninety days. The baby was 
 the fruit of that first imprisonment. The superintendent 
 grew impatient at my pleading with the crazy woman and 
 said, “Oh, get away, and let me throw her down. I’ll put 
 
THE OLD WORKHOUSE 
 
 41 
 
 my knee on her breast and take the baby for you.” I said, 
 “No, don’t use violence; I have brought a cape with me; I 
 will let her have it to keep the baby warm.” I sent out and 
 got it some warm milk. On leaving the place the superin- 
 tendent stooped and caressing one of the women lying on 
 the shelf, told her he would be back when he let us out, and 
 spend a while with her. The words he used were too vile 
 to record. It was a few steps to the gate, and when we 
 were in the street again, my friend, being angry at what we 
 had seen and heard, vowed never to go with me again. I 
 too was shocked, but with uplifted hand I vowed not to rest 
 until that man was out of that position and the conditions 
 in that jail changed. There were no matrons and those 
 men, made careless and vicious by drink, were in charge of 
 those weak and unfortunate women fourteen hours out of 
 twenty-four. Instead of the city reforming these unfortu- 
 nates, they were being degraded by the city’s employees. 
 
 Early the next morning I was in the Mayor's parlors 
 at the City Hall, telling him of my unpleasant experience 
 of the night before. Mayor Flower was shocked and pained, 
 and asked if I could repeat my story to the Commissioner 
 of Police and Public Buildings. I replied I could, where- 
 upon he set an hour for me to come back. During the in- 
 terval I went to tell Mr. Westfeldt, one of God’s own noble- 
 men. He was one of the officers of the Prison Reform As- 
 sociation. He said, “We have been expecting something 
 like this. I will go with you to the City Hall and meet the 
 Commissioner and the Mayor at the hour stated and hear 
 the charges.” His office was about four squares away from 
 the City Hall. It was then two o’clock. We walked to- 
 gether to the City Hall, went into the Mayor’s parlors, 
 whence we were directed into the secretary’s office, where 
 the Commissioner, Mr. Murphy, was awaiting us with Mr. 
 Mehle, the president of the City Council. I had to repeat 
 the whole ugly truth. The proper charges were preferred, 
 the superintendent immediately suspended and the case 
 placd in the hands of the Public Order Committee of the 
 City Council. The date was set for the trial and then my 
 troubles began. I was between two fires. The friends of 
 the superintendent wrote me threatening letters. My own 
 friends begged me to withdraw the charges or modify them. 
 This I refused to do, saying, if the enemy killed me for 
 
42 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 exposing the filthiest place in the state I would glorify God 
 for allowing me to die a martyr to a righteous cause. I hoped 
 and was undismayed. I knew that God knew my sorrows, 
 and counted my tears. He would lift up my head. 
 
 The two weeks passed. The night for the trial came. I 
 was on time, as was Mrs. Sarofield, my witness. The trial 
 was held in the Council Chamber. The guilty superinten- 
 dent was present. The Chairman had the Secretary read 
 the charges and I was asked if they were correct and re- 
 plied, “Yes.” The superintendent was asked if he was 
 guilty. He replied, “No,” and asked the Chairman if he 
 would entertain a charge made by a Negro woman against 
 a white man. That noble Chairman said, “Yes, she has a 
 right.” The superintendent asked, “What right?” I asked 
 the Chairman to please let me answer, which he did. I re- 
 plied, “The right of a respectable, law-abiding citizen and 
 property owner, whose taxes help to pay your salary and to 
 whom you are amenable.” There was no further question 
 of right. They heard my witness and the- men of the com- 
 mittee questioned me closely, but when the superintendent 
 tried to have us repeat his exact language, those gentlemen 
 refused to make us undergo that humiliation. We proved 
 beyond a doubt that he was drunk and took undue liberties 
 with his women prisoners. He begged the committee to 
 defer their decision until a week later that he might locate 
 the woman I had accused him of being unduly familiar 
 with. This was granted. It was twelve o’clock at night 
 when I left the City Hall, feeling sure God would help me 
 come out with victory at the end. 
 
 On the day set I received my notice to be at the meeting 
 at the City Hall at 7:30 p. m., and my witness and I were 
 on time. The superintendent had the woman on hand. She 
 testified that the superintendent had never insulted her in 
 his life. I then asked the superintendent if this poor aban- 
 doned creature who lived a life of shame, more often in jail 
 than out, more often drunk than sober, could be insulted ; or 
 tell us what would be an insult to her. They decided they 
 could not say anything to shock her modesty or bring the 
 blushes of shame to her cheek. One of the committee wanted 
 to know if I had any malice toward the superintendent. My 
 answer was “No.” I simply wanted him removed from the 
 city’s house of correction because he had turned it into a 
 house of ill-fame for his own private use, for which the city 
 
THE NEW WORK-HOUSE, OR THE HOUSE OP DETENTION. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE OLD WORKHOUSE 
 
 43 
 
 was paying him a salary. The committee went into a pri- 
 vate session. They hated to discharge him, as he had been 
 helpful in getting that administration in, so reached a com- 
 promise. They fined him $75.00, reprimanded him, and told 
 him to be careful in the future. The city’s power, the Press, 
 was not satisfied and kept at him until he was removed. 
 This exposure caused the authorities to place matrons in 
 the prisons at night and brought forth the letter from Mr. 
 Murphy in the introductory pages. The gentlemen of 
 the Council were most kind and courteous, in fact most of 
 the men of Louisiana have treated me with the greatest 
 respect and have encouraged and helped me in my work. If 
 it were not for them and the noble white women of my 
 state, I would have fainted long since. 
 
 Col. James Zacharie, a member of the City Council, 
 read my report of the conditions at the old workhouse. He 
 and others visited it, and started a movement to build a new 
 prison. A handsome brick structure was erected in Tulane 
 Avenue, and named the House of Detention. Under Com- 
 missioner Pujol and Capt. Picheloup everything is kept as 
 neat and clean as can be. The old workhouse is now used 
 to house the stray animals found in the city streets. 
 
 I wish to say that there are some white men and women 
 just as noble in the State of Louisiana as may be found any- 
 where on earth. They believe in justice to all, white or 
 black, rich or poor. I have seen a white man risk his life 
 for a Negro man, and a white woman risk her good repute 
 to help a sick Negro woman. The kindly help of the above 
 class of Christian white people has caused my race to be 
 more patient amid the many insults and acts of injustice 
 inflicted upon them by the less human whites. 
 
 The Era Club of New Orleans, composed of the leading 
 white women of the city, became aroused at the exposure 
 I brought about in the workhouse and encouraged me to go 
 forward; they would help me. They invited me to appear 
 before a Committee of the Club and assured me of their 
 hearty support. They then took up the jail and court work, 
 looking to their improvement. Through the efforts of the 
 Era Club the much needed Juvenile Court was brought into 
 existence in July, 1903. 
 
 For a long time I begged clothes for the city’s indigent 
 insane. I called the attention of the Prison Reform Asso- 
 
44 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 ciation to this and they had the Budget Committee appro- 
 priate a little sum each year for this purpose. I am hoping 
 to hear of an appropriation to buy clothing for the prisoners 
 who are kept in the Parish Prison from one to six months. 
 Those who have no relatives or friends to furnish clothing 
 have a hard time to keep clean and hide their person. 
 Should they get caught in a rain while at work they must 
 let their clothes dry on them. Many have had to spend 
 days in the prison hospital being treated for colds con- 
 tracted in this way. Often the sheriff and deputies are 
 scored for the presence of vermin in the prison when the 
 Mayor or the City Fathers are to blame for not providing 
 means and changes for the prisons. I have seen men wear 
 one suit of clothes nearly six months. 
 
 The prison officials, with but few exceptions, are good 
 men, doing the best they can with the little money and 
 supplies. All the state prisons I have visited furnish cloth- 
 ing for the inmates. If cleanliness is next to Godliness, 
 then do let us have more cleanliness. This can only be 
 done by the authorities furnishing that very necessary 
 change of clothes to each prisoner. This is done in England, 
 Ireland and Scotland. There the prisoners’ clothes are taken 
 off as soon as they come in, it matters not if only for a day. 
 They are made to bathe and the clean clothes are given 
 them and theirs are fumigated, washed and ironed, after 
 which they are bundled, numbered and put away for the 
 prisoners when they are released. When they go to trial 
 their clothes are given them and the prison clothes are 
 turned over to the matron to be made ready for some other 
 prisoner. 
 
 Mr. J. Watts Kearney, another one of our city’s true and 
 noble men, while President of the Prison Reform Associa- 
 tion. often gave me an order on some large dry goods store 
 to get goods to make shirts for the prisoners. I have stood 
 for hours cutting out garments in the women’s department 
 for them to sew, thus keeping their idle fingers busy. In 
 this way we had on hand a supply of shirts and skirts for 
 the prisoners who had none. 
 
 I have ofttimes taken my own money, gone to second- 
 hand dealers and bought shoes, carried them to the prison 
 and fitted up barefooted white and black prisoners, in win- 
 ter to keep them from suffering the pain of frostbites. 
 
THE REMEDY 
 
 45 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE REMEDY. 
 
 I am asked the question, “What would you do to pre- 
 vent crime?” “An idle brain is the devil’s workshop.” 
 Knowing this I would give every child a good common 
 school education with manual training and compel each to 
 learn a trade, for I have observed in my travels through the 
 State Prisons that fully ninety per cent of the prisoners 
 have no trade. People who have trades are too busy earn- 
 ing a living to get into trouble. 
 
 A system of education which does not begin in the pri- 
 mary grade to develop and train the body and limbs as well 
 as the mind is radically deficient. Executive ability is de- 
 veloped through the process of body discipline which should 
 be part of the public school training. The above helps the 
 child to gain will power before which difficulties vanish and 
 through which successes must come if such are possible 
 under any circumstances. Plato, the ancient philosopher, 
 said, “To educate the mind and morals without training the 
 body develops a cripple.’’ Each child ought to be taught 
 and encouraged to have a purpose in life, some object in 
 view to work up to. For what Carlyle says of life we may 
 well say of the intellectual life in particular: “The man 
 without a purpose is like a ship without a rudder, a waif, 
 a nothing, a no man.” Drifting with the tide, bound for no 
 port. 
 
 Each child ought to be examined for such afflictions as 
 will retard his progress in developing along all lines. Such 
 diseases as adenoids, afflicted tonsils, tongue-tie, weak eyes, 
 etc., can be often cured with a single operation. The State 
 should see that each child of school age is examined by a 
 physician and the necessary steps taken to help it to begin 
 school unhampered, thus reducing the number from rvhich 
 our criminal rank are usually recruited. 
 
 Every state should have a well equipped industrial and 
 agricultural school; this is just as necessary to its success 
 as oil is to machinery. This school should be situated in 
 the suburbs of the largest city of the state, so that a market 
 could be had near at hand to dispose of the school products. 
 
46 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 The school should be largely supported by the state to be 
 a success. 
 
 Every industrial school can have a home department 
 with very little extra cost. Children should be removed 
 from immoral surroundings and trained for lives of use- 
 fulness. 
 
 Where there is not a state industrial and agricultural 
 school there should be an association formed. To do this, 
 call a mass meeting in a large central church, have good 
 speakers and music interspersed to create interest for the 
 project. Then proceed to organize an association, appoint 
 a committee to draw up by-laws, have same chartered 
 according to the state laws. Have an office and proceed to 
 keep the work before the public through the newspapers 
 and make appeals for money. Be sure to have honest, re- 
 spectable people at the head, have treasurer give bond to 
 hold money collected. Ask for donation of land and prop- 
 erty. Some one person must give all his time to the work. 
 
 When proper site is found, elect from the association 
 persons to serve on the board of managers who will make 
 rules to govern the institution and supply all its wants. The 
 chief promoter must be a strong Christian who will not 
 believe in failure ; he should take Sam Jones’ advice : “Leave 
 their feelings locked up at home, for they will be sure to 
 meet some fool on the way who will hurt them.” 
 
 Have a law made in your state authorizing the proper 
 authorities to take children from immoral surroundings and 
 send them where they can be properly trained. This will 
 save souls and money to the State. “An ounce of preven- 
 tion is worth a pound of cure.” 
 
 This really means going to the seat of the criminal 
 trouble, cleaning the fountain instead of working with the 
 old people who are in the stream of crime. If this course 
 is pursued it will reduce crime to a minimum, save money 
 to the State, lessen its criminals and reduce its prisons. I 
 have reached this conclusion after studying criminology 
 over fifteen years in America and Europe. 
 
 The following stanzas were clipped from a London 
 paper and express my thoughts precisely: 
 
THE REMEDY 
 
 47 
 
 Avoiding Accidents at a Cliff. 
 
 ’Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed, 
 Though to walk near its crest was so pleasant; 
 
 But over its terrible edge there had slipped 
 A duke, and full many a peasant ; 
 
 So the people said something would have to be clone, 
 But their projects did not all tally. 
 
 Some said, “Put a fence around the edge of the cliff 
 Some, “An ambulance down in the valley.” 
 
 But the cry for the ambulance carried the day ; 
 
 For it spread through the neighboring city; 
 
 A fence may be useful or not, it is true, 
 
 But each heart became brimful of pity 
 
 For those who slipped over that dangerous cliff ; 
 
 And the dwellers in highway and valley 
 Gave pounds or gave pence, not to put up a fence. 
 
 But an ambulance down in the valley. 
 
 “For the cliff is all right if you’re careful,’’ they said, 
 “And if folks even slip and are dropping, 
 
 It isn’t the slipping that hurts them so much 
 As the shock down below — when they’re stopping;” 
 So day after day, as these mishaps occurred, 
 
 Quick forth would these rescuers sally, 
 
 To pick up the victims who fell off the cliff 
 With their ambulance down in the valley. 
 
 Then an old sage remarked, “It’s a marvel to me 
 That people give far more attention 
 To repairing results than to stopping the cause 
 When they’d much better aim at prevention. 
 
 Let us stop at its source all this mischief,” cried he, 
 “Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally; 
 
 If the cliff we will fence we might almost dispense 
 With the ambulance down in the valley.” 
 
 “Oh! he’s a fanatic,” the others rejoined; 
 
 “He’d stop all our Christian endeavor — 
 
 “Dispense with all charities, too, if he could ; 
 
48 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 But no! We’ll support them forever! 
 
 Aren’t we picking folk up just as fast as they fall? 
 
 And shall this man dictate to us? Shall he? 
 
 Why should people of sense stop to put up a fence 
 While their ambulance works in the valley?” 
 
 But a sensible few, who are practical, too, 
 
 Will not bear with such nonsense much longer; 
 
 They believe that prevention is better than cure, 
 
 And their party will soon be the stronger. 
 
 Encourage them, then, with your purse, voice and pen, 
 And (while other philanthropists dally), 
 
 They will scorn all pretence, and put a stout fence 
 On the cliff that hangs over the valley. 
 
 Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old, 
 For the voice of true wisdom is calling; 
 
 “To rescue the fallen is good, but it’s best 
 To prevent other people from falling.” 
 
 Better close up the source of temptation and crime 
 Than deliver from dungeon or galley; 
 
 Better put a strong fence round the top of the cliff 
 Than an ambulance down in the valley. 
 
 An article entitled “The Cost of Crime in the United 
 States,” by Rev. John J. Munro, Chaplain to the Prison 
 Evangelistic Society of New York, which appeared in Har- 
 per’s Weekly, is one of great interest, not only to the student 
 of criminology and the sociologists, but to every individual. 
 The article, which is the product of a great deal of research, 
 the data being extremely difficult of acquirement, shows that 
 the cost of crime in this country during the year 1906 
 reached the stupendous total of more than $1,000,000,000. 
 The cost of crime is a remarkable field for economic inves- 
 tigation, as it is something which enters into practically 
 every department of our existence. In 1906 twenty-five per 
 cent of the $130,000,000 and more raised by taxation for the 
 running expenses of the city of Greater New York were 
 spent in the repression and correction of crime. This will 
 give one an idea of the general cost of crime throughout 
 the country. Mr. Munro, in this article, has gone into 
 numerous details of expenditure both by States and the 
 National Government in order to arrive at these conclusions. 
 
THE REMEDY 
 
 49 
 
 In 1906 nearly twenty-five per cent of the taxes received 
 in the State of Louisiana was spent for the repression and on 
 account of crime. Well might we say with Longfellow : 
 
 “If half the power that fills the world with terror; 
 
 If half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, 
 
 Were given to redeem the human mind from error, 
 
 There were no need of arsenals nor forts.” 
 
 Here are some facts: Ada Juke was born in New 
 York City in 1740 and died at the age of 64 years, a drunk- 
 ard, a thief and a tramp. Ller descendants have numbered 
 834. The record of 709 of them have been traced from youth 
 to death ; 106 were illegitimates ; 142 beggars ; 64 lived off 
 charity; 76 were convicts, 7 of whom were sentenced for 
 murder; 181 women lived disreputable lives; the remainder 
 were more or less addicted to drink. It is estimated that 
 this woman and her descendants have already cost tax- 
 payers over $125,000,000. She was illegitimate, illiterate, 
 idle and addicted to drink. Truly the devil found much 
 work for her idle hands to do. What a difference between 
 her life and the life of President Jonathan Edwards and his 
 offspring. How different ! He and his descendants made 
 the world better, blessing humanity through countless ages. 
 They gave to the world priceless good in words and deeds. 
 
 Again, I must urge, let us have compulsory Christian 
 education combined with manual training in every commu- 
 nity. Ignorant people break the laws of the land and God 
 with impunity, having very little knowledge of right and 
 wrong. Nearly all the men who commit heinous crimes are 
 ignorant, idle beings, without trades. With their animal 
 natures highly developed, they form the subjects and excuse 
 for “Judge Lynch,” that atrocious American institution, and 
 they beget their own kind even should they mate with good 
 individuals. There are two forces ever contending in their 
 offspring for supremacy. More often the tendency to do 
 wrong will win in the battle. The individual will fall and 
 travel with little will-power left to oppose the temptation. 
 Often we find the road to right hard, while the road to 
 wrong is easy and pleasant; yes, even tempting to the weak, 
 vacillating human being. 
 
50 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 I would to God every State in the Union would abolish 
 the leasing of its convicts to contractors. No more diabol- 
 ical plan was ever hatched to punish the erring citizen. The 
 contractor works the prisoners early and late with poor 
 food, bad sleeping quarters, the consequence being a high 
 death rate. Very little, if any, reformatory measures are 
 used. 
 
 The State of Louisiana tried this scheme to its shame 
 and sorrow. Men coming from the prison, after serving 
 their terms, were worse than when they entered, feeling 
 that they owed society a grudge that could only be paid by 
 committing more crimes. 
 
 Since 1901 Louisiana cares for its own prisoners. The 
 Board of Control and the General Superintendent are ap- 
 pointed by the Governor, and he is recommended for his 
 patience, tact, executive ability and also kindness and stern- 
 ness must be inherent in them to a great degree. The best 
 man I have known in this position is the superintendent of 
 the county jail in Chicago, 111 ., Mr. Whitman. He rules his 
 prisoners with love. They all regard him as their friend 
 and brother and are ever ready to obey his least wish. His 
 prison discipline was the finest I have ever seen, and I have 
 visited twenty-two state prisons, and those of Ireland, Scot- 
 land, England and France. To know Mr. Whitman is to 
 admire him. 
 
 All prisoners should be urged and taught to raise the 
 food they eat. Their coming in contact with the soil, watch- 
 ing the seeds as they burst through the earth putting forth 
 their sprouts, turns their thoughts to God, the giver of life. 
 This softens the hard heart and creates interest in all grow- 
 ing things. The authorities should sell the surplus product 
 and after all expenses are deducted the profit could be 
 placed to the credit of the prisoners and a portion sent to 
 their families to keep them from becoming a charge on the 
 community during the prisoner’s incarceration. 
 
 This system would prevent much suffering among the 
 innocent ones of the prisoners’ families. I have seen sick 
 wives and hungry babies appealing for food and shelter. 
 The father and husband had plenty to eat while working 
 in prison putting money in the Government Treasury. When 
 there is no family to support the money could be saved 
 against the day of his discharge and given him to start life 
 
THE REMEDY 
 
 51 
 
 anew. Where there is a life sentence the State might keep 
 his share and apply it to charity. 
 
 This system would create more respect for the author- 
 ities and I believe make prisoners more industrious and 
 amenable to prison rules, creating in them a desire to pre- 
 pare for a better life in the future when free from jail 
 sentence. 
 
 The State of Louisiana has bought three plantations 
 with the money earned by the prisoners. The prisoners 
 work these, netting a fine profit to the State. The report 
 for 1907 showed that the State made clear of expenses, by 
 its prison labor, the sum of $71,076.94. The death rate was 
 decreased and there is less sickness and dissatisfaction 
 among the prisoners. They have not increased in ratio to 
 the population. This means that the people are either 
 getting better or the crude reformatory measures, lately put 
 into practice, are giving satisfactory results. 
 
 The total population of Louisiana, census of 1910, is 
 1,656,388. Of these, 713,874 are colored. The population 
 has grown since the last census because of the thousands 
 of white immigrants arriving recently from European 
 countries. 
 
 There were received at the State Prison for fourteen 
 years the following number of prisoners: 
 
 1894 
 
 633 
 
 1901 
 
 548 
 
 •895 
 
 601 
 
 1902 
 
 573 
 
 1896 
 
 527 
 
 1903 
 
 477 
 
 1897 
 
 572 
 
 1904 
 
 501 
 
 1898 
 
 549 
 
 1905 
 
 559 
 
 1899 
 
 5i5 
 
 1906 
 
 720 
 
 1900 
 
 595 
 
 1907 
 
 664 
 
 A total of 8,034 prisoners, or an average of 574 prison- 
 ers per year. The death rate under the lease was up to 
 ninety-eight per thousand ; under the present system of 
 captain and trustee, appointed by the Governor, the death 
 rate is fourteen per thousand. 
 
 Most of the prisoners are convicted for larceny. The 
 white thief differs from the colored, in that the latter steals 
 fine clothing, food or drink, while the white will rob the 
 state treasury, a bank or the railroads. The white man’s 
 opportunities are greater, therefore his stealings are larger. 
 When the white man kills it is sometimes called murder, 
 
52 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 manslaughter, or killing in self-defense, according to his 
 means or station in life, his social status and that of the 
 man he has killed, his politics, etc., all of which must be 
 brought to bear before he is tried before a jury of his peers, 
 when he may escape punishment. In the case of the Negro 
 none of these are considered. This is in no wise an excuse 
 for my people. They ought to be most Christ-like. Having 
 so lately been given their freedom they ought to be too 
 busy serving God and seizing every opportunity to better 
 their lives than to have any time to break the laws. 
 
 However, I am encouraged and take much comfort in 
 the fact that crime is on the decrease among colored people; 
 recent figures obtained from New York, Philadelphia, Cin- 
 cinnati, Chicago, the states to which Negroes seem to 
 migrate in largest numbers, have all testified to this. The 
 population everywhere is steadily increasing. 
 
 In a letter from the District Attorney of the City of 
 Milwaukee, Wisconsin, he stated the colored population of 
 Milwaukee county is about 3,000; during 1911 he had occa- 
 sion to prosecute only three colored persons for felonies in 
 the criminal courts, only one of these for larceny, the other 
 two for assault and battery; he goes on to say the percent- 
 age of crime among the colored people is very low and far 
 less proportionately than that of any other race or nation- 
 ality. 
 
 I attribute the decrease in crime to better facilities to 
 educate the ignorant in our midst; second, to the work of 
 evangelists and the prison reform associations. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SOME INTERESTING FACTS. 
 
 I know my people would have been better off had they 
 let the white man’s beer and liquor alone. My people remind 
 me of the monkey in this respect; they don’t know when 
 to stop. A gentleman bought a monkey from a friend and 
 thought it was a good thing to amuse his wife. The monkey 
 did everything he saw his owner do and thus became a 
 nuisance. One day the monkey cut the gentleman’s wife’s 
 hair while she slept. He became angry at this, tried to sell 
 it, and when he found no one would buy it, tried to give the 
 monkey away, but could not get anyone to take it. He could 
 
SOME INTERESTING FACTS 
 
 53 
 
 not kill it, so devised a plan to get rid of it. He got his shav- 
 ing materials together, sat the monkey on the dresser where 
 he could see, lathered his face, shaved it, wiped the razor on 
 his hand, then drew the back of the razor across his throat, 
 and left the room ; locking the monkey alone with the 
 shaving materials, he peeped through the keyhole to watch 
 results. The monkey was an apt scholar, but he used the 
 blade of the razor on his throat instead of the back, and 
 was soon dead as a result. 
 
 My race would have accomplished wonders if it had 
 not given so much time to frivolities ; they have made 
 greater progress in forty-eight years than any other race 
 on earth; their growth has been phenomenal along all lines. 
 In the last census taken by the United States, the Negro 
 population was estimated at 10,000,000. The census taken 
 overlooked the 5,000,000 Negroes who are posing as whites. 
 This would bring the total Negro population to 15,000,000. 
 When one considers my race was freed January 1, 1863, 
 without a home or a dollar, turned loose like stock to wan- 
 der where they would, God led and wonderfully provided 
 for them. 
 
 There is no race more patient and forgiving than the 
 Negro, and this is not because he lacks courage, but because 
 he prefers peace; for on the battle field he has proven him- 
 self the equal to any race. Permit me to refer you to 
 the brave Toussaint l’Ouverture, the West Indian slave, 
 who so readily responded to the call that demanded his 
 assistance to relieve the sufferings of his race, or Dessaline, 
 his successor, or Menelik of Africa, who traces his ancestry 
 back to King Solomon. 
 
 Again, recount his brave deeds in the Mexican War, 
 or the Civil War in which he so freely poured out his life’s 
 blood that he might enjoy the rights and privileges that the 
 Great God intended; or in the Cuban War, in which he so 
 valiantly distinguished himself as a warrior, when he 
 marched to victory through the thickest shots and shells, 
 through water to his neck, through briars and under- 
 brush, flesh torn and bleeding when he marched up San 
 Juan Hill, singing as he went. 
 
 If my people would have been more grateful to God 
 they would have been better off to-day. There has not 
 
54 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 been enough gratitude shown our God for His many bless- 
 ings. On January i, every church owned by colored people 
 ought to have been crowded with grateful worshippers, 
 thanking God for the day and such martyrs as the Immortal 
 Lincoln, Wilberforce, Garrison, Brown, Wendell Phillips. 
 Harriet Beecher Stowe and others. 
 
 Our white friends have helped but their attention is 
 being attracted elsewhere. Two neighbors lived side by 
 side, one a Negro, the other a wealthy white man. The 
 white friend came to the Negro’s cabin one night with a 
 lamp lighted and held it over the man’s sick cat. While 
 trying to revive it, another cat ran through the room and 
 gave a loud wail. The white friend excitedly exclaimed, 
 “My friend, here, take this light ; you will have to hold your 
 own light — that is, my cat is in trouble. I will have to see 
 after it,” and suiting the action to the word, he ran quickly 
 to its aid. 
 
 There are thousands of aliens flocking to America, 
 bringing their untrained, vicious youth to our shores to 
 become the wards of our wealthy white Americans, who 
 are spending their money to give them the opportunity to 
 embrace the civilizing influence of a Christian education. 
 The Negro must take care of his own cat. 
 
 In Alabama some of the colored school teachers only 
 receive $15.00 per month for three and four months of the 
 year, out of which they must clothe and board themselves; 
 while the criminals of that State are leased out for $26.00, 
 $36.00 and $40.00 per month, thus apparently placing a pre- 
 mium on criminals, especially the Negro, making the Negro 
 convict more essential to the State than the Negro edu- 
 cator. This is the condition in most of the Southern States 
 where the convict lease system is operated. 
 
 Negroes ought to be a valuable asset to any country, 
 for they as a whole possess strength and a will to do labo- 
 rious work of any kind. The Negro is a producer ; if anyone 
 has any doubts, read the figures gathered by John Mitchell, 
 Jr., Negro editor of the Richmond Planet, and president of 
 the Mechanics’ Savings Bank of Richmond, Va. 
 
SOME INTERESTING FACTS 
 
 55 
 
 INTERESTING FIGURES. 
 
 The following figures no doubt will prove to be of 
 interest. Value of crops produced by Negroes, 1906: 
 
 3.7 Per Cent corn $ 75,820,074.40 
 
 0.6 Wheat 3,617,483.97 
 
 0.4 Oats , 2,315,770.82 
 
 0.2 Rye - 53-39973 
 
 9.3 Rice 1,204,884.56 
 
 0-5 Hay 297,697.35 
 
 0.9 Potatoes 1,417,926.52 
 
 21. 1 Sweet potatoes 3,192,536.24 
 
 38.9 Cotton 249,081,188.28 
 
 10.2 Tobacco 6,959,729.99 
 
 Value for 1906 ..$343,960,692.89 
 
 Value of all other farm products of Negroes 100,411,136.66 
 
 Total value of farm products by Negroes 
 
 in 1906 - - $444,371,829.55 
 
 Have they saved anything? Let us read what Mr. Os- 
 wald Villard, Editor of the New York Post, says in his 
 appeal for equal opportunity for the Negro in America. 
 
 He rates the colored people high as accumulators. He 
 says in fifty years they have this to show : 500,000 homes, 
 250,000 farms worth $200,000,000, and a total of $600,- 
 000,000 worth of property. In my research work I find the 
 Negro has been doing something else besides having tough 
 meetings and going to jail; he is not as criminal as he is 
 painted. 
 
 I know of an instance in the City of New Orleans, 
 where there was a raid made one Saturday night in one of 
 our large shopping centers, namely Dryades street, where 
 a large number of Negro men were arrested while they 
 were shopping. They were charged at the station with being 
 dangerous and suspicious characters. A lawyer appeared 
 and promised to get them paroled and get them out without 
 fines, provided they could furnish $5.00 apiece ; they prompt- 
 ly emptied their pockets and were released. Those who did 
 not have $5.00 were kept in jail over Sunday, tried and fined 
 $25.00 or thirty days in the workhouse. The merchants on 
 
56 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 that street where the raid was made waited on the Mayor 
 and with the help of the Daily Item, an evening paper, the 
 outrageous occurrence was prevented. 
 
 This is one of the ways the criminal ranks are increased 
 and the number to work the roads and clean streets are 
 brought in and put to work. In some states where convict 
 labor is bought by the lease system, the man showing the 
 least resistance is placed in the chain gang until his time 
 is up. I have seen men with bare feet, a chain around the 
 ankle that rubbed the flesh with every step until blood 
 came. Georgia is notorious for her chain gangs, with its 
 many Negro boys and insanitary prisons. 
 
 The State prison at Baton Rouge, La., is an unhealthy, 
 rambling old building that ought to have been demolished 
 long since. The sleeping quarters of the prisoners are 
 small, the ceiling is low and the cells damp. A favored 
 few have better places and they are not sent out in the 
 camps to work. Their family connections, or their wealth, 
 save them from the sentence which their black brothers 
 must serve to the letter. The superintendent, like Shylock, 
 sees that the bill is paid in full. 
 
 During my last visit, 1907, to this prison, the gate 
 opened to receive a young white man, who entered the yard 
 with the sheriff, handcuffed. The prisoner was to begin a 
 sentence of one year, having entered a store with two col- 
 ored boys who stole two guns and ammunition, and some 
 articles of food and clothing. He and the two colored boys 
 were taken into the disrobing room, where they donned 
 the stripes and received their number. From henceforth 
 they were to be known only by numbers. The two colored 
 boys were sent to the camps. Before they left I shook hands 
 with them and gave them words of advice and encourage- 
 ment, and presented each of them a card bearing a scripture 
 verse, the teaching of which they promised to heed. As I 
 went on through the yard, distributing cards and shaking 
 hands with those I knew, I saw the new white prisoner sit- 
 ting alone. I stopped to hand him a card ; he reached out 
 his hand, while tears were streaming down his sad, pale 
 face. My heart was touched, and I told him that a year 
 would soon pass, and encouraged him to feel better. I told 
 him to take it all to God in prayer, that He would surely 
 help him to become a better man. I advised him that as 
 
THE VOYAGE 
 
 57 
 
 he was young and life was yet before him, that he could 
 resolve to put away the past and henceforth live to please 
 God. He looked up at me and said, “The town I came from 
 is not far away. All of my friends are a lively set of fellows 
 and they would laugh at me, and make it hard for me to 
 live at home if I should change my ways as you advise me 
 and drop their company.” “Well,” said I, "they will come 
 here to keep you company if they do as you have done.” He 
 said, “I expect when they are caught up with to see them 
 here also.” And then, as if he had reflected, “I don’t intend 
 they shall keep me with them. I will break away. My fam- 
 ily is willing to help me and I will change.” “God is pleased 
 to hear that and He will help you,” I said. “If the environ- 
 ments at home are such that you feel that you cannot resist 
 them and live above temptation and they will prevent you 
 being a good man, leave that home and try another town 
 where you are not known. Be careful of your company. 
 Seek to know g'ood people and live with them.” “You have 
 started me in the right direction,” answered he, “and I will 
 keep this tract you have given me and I will sign the pledge 
 to try each day to please God ; and when I get out, I will 
 try life anew in some towm where no one knows me.” I 
 gladly shook hands with him, and left him praying that he 
 would be saved. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 Having been appointed by Mrs. L. M. N. Stevens, Na- 
 tional President of the W. C. T. U., as a United States delegate 
 to the International Convention of this organization which was 
 to convene in Edinburgh, Scotland, on the 22nd day of June, 
 1900, I accepted the honor although an empty one as I would 
 have to pay my own way. I did this because I thought I could 
 make friends for my project, the founding of a home and 
 school for friendless and homeless colored children, which 
 would prevent this class from being sent to reformatories. I 
 had created a sentiment against this system but could get no 
 money. But having an unlimited faith in God I decided to 
 mortgage my home for $200 in order that I might have money 
 to buy a round trip ticket which I was compelled to do to get 
 the cheap rate that the other delegates would get. I felt that 
 
58 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 I could raise money by lectures, and by living as economically 
 as possible while abroad save enough to come back and show 
 those at home what could be done by perseverance. Did God 
 answer my prayer for success? Did I obtain that for which 
 I was working? The closing chapters of this book will tell. I 
 packed my clothes in one large suit-case and one small satchel, 
 as I heard it would be burdensome to carry a trunk through 
 Europe. I bade good-bye to my three grown children and a 
 few friends who came to the depot to see me off. 
 
 I left New Orleans via the Louisville & Nashville railroad, 
 June 4th, for Philadelphia, Pa., where the delegates were to 
 assemble for the voyage. 
 
 On Friday night, June 8th, a reception was tendered the 
 delegates at the Frances Willard Memorial by the Pennsylvania 
 W. C. T. U., on Arch street. This was a particularly grand 
 affair and lasted until a late hour of the night. 
 
 We gathered at the docks the next morning. Many white 
 ribboners and friends followed to bid us bon voyage. 
 
 I was accompanied to the docks by that most kind-hearted 
 and courteous gentleman, Prof. H. T. Kealing, editor of the 
 A. M. E. Review. As the vessel was leaving its mooring, 
 handkerchiefs and flags were waved and the hymn, “God be 
 with you until we meet again,” made the welkin ring by those 
 on land till they could be no longer seen nor heard. 
 
 The steamer “Belgenland” left Dock 54, Philadelphia, Pa., 
 on June 9th, at 10:30 a. m. About 2 o’clock we went aground 
 on Danbecker’s Shoal. At 6 o’clock the tide came and we float- 
 ed off. At ten p. m. the pilot left us at the breakwater, and the 
 purser told us we were lost to the world until we reached Liv- 
 erpool. Our little party left for our staterooms with lumps 
 rising in our throats, feeling we could only look to God for safe 
 deliverance from the perils of the deep until our journey ended. 
 
 Sunday, June 10th, was a lovely day. At seven a. m. the 
 captain sent off a carrier pigeon with a message. At 10:30 a. 
 m. he held the Episcopal services in the dining saloon, after 
 which we enjoyed a hearty lunch. At twelve the sea was 
 choppy, and we found it much pleasanter to sit in the ladies’ 
 cabin and chat and read. We were always ready to eat when 
 the bell called us, which was three times a day and tea at nine 
 p. m. 
 
 I led the first W. C. T. U. meeting on board the ship, and 
 made up the program for the week. 
 
THE VOYAGE 
 
 59 
 
 Monday, July nth, was another lovely day. The sea was 
 a beautiful blue, and clear as glass. My room-mates, Mrs. 
 Lawson of Washington, D. C., and Miss M. Lynch of North 
 Carolina, and I were getting on nicely. There were a few sick 
 on board. All told we numbered 183 souls, counting the ship’s 
 crew, which consisted of 87. Miss Winston led the W. C. T. 
 U. meeting at the noon hour. 
 
 Tuesday, the 12th, was a beautiful day. Miss Lynch be- 
 came sea-sick, although she didn’t own it. I was not feeling 
 so very well after breakfast and took a chair on deck await- 
 ing the terror of sea-sickness, while Mrs. Adams of Roches- 
 ter, N. Y., one of the underground railway agents of never- 
 to-be-forgotten slavery days, talked to me of her father and 
 his kindness to a suffering race. 
 
 Our pleasant chat was interrupted by her being called to 
 lead the noonday meeting of the W. C. T. U. Mrs. Joseph 
 Philips of Washington, Pa., another of our party, was the most 
 cheerful on board. She was like a bright little bird, here, there 
 and everywhere with a pleasant word for all. 
 
 Wednesday, the 13th, was a windy day, the sea becoming 
 so rough from the great whitecaps leaping over one another, 
 it was very hard to walk on deck. ’Twas then I began to 
 know what sea-sickness was. My friends advised me what 
 to do, and told me I should have brought “Amos Fruit Salts” 
 along and I would have been all right, but that advice came 
 too late for I was then at sea. A slight drizzle set in and we 
 hurried to the dining saloon where it was warm and there 
 we remained until bedtime. Miss Lynch led the noonday 
 prayer. 
 
 On Thursday, the 14th, a clear day, we sighted a ship west- 
 bound, the first we had seen since we left Philadelphia. We 
 greeted it cheerfully as it broke the monotony of our voyage, 
 having seen nothing but sky and water for five days. Our 
 captain saluted the ship as we passed. Mrs. Roberts led the 
 noonday meeting. 
 
 Friday, the 15th, was as bleak and cold as a winter day. 
 The sea was filled with large pieces of ice. I was glad I had 
 brought some winter underwear along, and had a large golf 
 cape which felt quite comfortable even though this was the 
 first summer month. 
 
 We crowded into the cabin trying to keep warm. Mrs. 
 Lawson led the noontide prayer meeting, while Mrs. Haviland 
 of Philadelphia sang some sacred solos. 
 
60 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Saturday, the 16th, was a dreary day. We were still 
 cooped up in the dining saloon. Mrs. Pierson led the noontide 
 meeting. It was the best we had had, so full of the Christ, 
 spirit. 
 
 On Sunday, the 17th, it was still raining. After break- 
 fast we went into the dining saloon where the Episcopal ser- 
 vices were read by the captain with responses by the passengers. 
 The closing hymn, “Lead Kindly Light,” was sung and seemed 
 appropriate on this dreary day out on the ocean. 
 
 Monday, the 18th, dawned bright and clear and we were 
 feeling much better. The steamer “Oceanic” had just passed 
 us, bound east, as we were, to Liverpool, but was much faster 
 than our ship. Mrs. Porter of Texas led the noontide meeting, 
 from which we were called to see a large sailing vessel which 
 seemed like a large five-story white house being rocked in the 
 cradle of the deep. At night we had a concert for the benefit 
 of the Seamen’s Orphanage. The passengers furnished the 
 program, which was excellent. An admission fee of twenty- 
 five cents was charged, which netted the sum of $32. 
 
 Tuesday, the 19th, was another dreary, wet day. Mrs. 
 Clark of Baltimore led the noontide prayer meeting. The 
 evening was pleasantly spent with Miss Gilmore writing verses 
 in our albums. At nine p. m. it was not yet dark but we went 
 to bed and talked about the many tips we were expected to 
 make and the many designs on our purses. In imagination we 
 saw ourselves held up on every side. We were expected to tip 
 three persons at least fifty cents or two shillings, the steward- 
 ess, the bedroom steaward and our waiter at the table. We 
 then thanked the Lord there were no more. 
 
 Wednesday, the 20th, the breakfast bell rang and the bed- 
 room steward called out in stentorian tones, “Land ahead !” 
 There was a scramble to get on deck to see it but only to find it 
 a ruse of his to get us up quickly, and he succeeded admirably. 
 It was a lovely day. Mrs. Chambers, president of Pennsyl- 
 vania W. C. T. U., stated on account of passengers packing to 
 get off at Queenstown, we would not have our devotional exer- 
 cises that day and we were disappointed. We sighted land for 
 the first time at two o’clock. It looked like a bank of white 
 clouds. It was the coast of Ireland, about fifty miles from 
 Queenstown. As we got nearer the passengers crowded the 
 deck. It seemed like brown rock. Then we discerned the 
 emerald-like green grass and we knew why it was called “Em- 
 
AT THE CONVENTION 
 
 61 
 
 erald Isle.’’ The lighthouse looked beautiful as it threw its 
 rays out into the ocean and we saw the dangerous rocks that 
 lined the shore. Beyond we saw the fields of Ireland beauti- 
 fully laid out, looking like a great quilt of brown patchwork of 
 light green, dark green, yellow and red. At about ten o’clock 
 p. m. we reached Queenstown. It brought us the first news 
 from the world to which we had been lost for eleven days. A 
 shout went up as we heard McKinley had been renominated for 
 the presidency of the United States. The lights looked so 
 pretty from the city, we thought if these lights failed to shine 
 out, how many souls on this ship would have been lost against 
 the rocky shore. We were reminded of the Christians, whom 
 God has chosen as lights. We got to bed at twelve o’clock, 
 tired out from sitting up to see our newly-made friends ashore. 
 
 Thursday, the 21st, we were out to sea again making our 
 way to Liverpool. At twelve o’clock p. m. we sighted Holy- 
 head, and it, too, was a welcome sight, for we were not far 
 from Liverpool. Soon we steamed up the river Mersey. Here, 
 of course, we had our little trials, one of which was being 
 held up by the customs officials. We were glad to land, 
 though we somewhat regretted leaving our ocean home of 
 nearly two weeks’ residence. But such is life ; nothing here 
 below can last always. We had just finished dinner, so we 
 must tip, get our hats and go ashore. We performed this 
 duty and were thankful to be delivered from another trial of 
 our voyage. 
 
 This is Liverpool, one of the largest commercial centers of 
 the world, miles and miles of dock with a countless number of 
 steamers and craft of every description and kind. After eight 
 hours’ ride from Liverpool, we arrived at Edinburgh, Scotland, 
 at seven a. m., June 22, 1900. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AT THE CONVENTION. 
 
 We waited in the station sitting room at Edinburgh until 
 the W. C. T. U. entertainment committee came to give us the 
 address of our hostess. At last Mrs. Waugh, the lady who was 
 to direct, came and sent me in a cab to Miss Hog of Dun Edin 
 House, Murrayfield, where, after a twenty-minute ride, I ar- 
 rived. The cabman rang, the lodge-keeper opened the gate and 
 we drove through a line of pretty chestnut trees, the limbs of 
 which reached the ground, and stood before the door of a 
 
62 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 house overlooking a beautiful garden. Many white pigeons in 
 a house nearby, came out cooing, seemingly to inquire the mean- 
 ing of this intrusion. A maid came, took my card, invited me 
 to a seat in the drawing room while she went to apprise the 
 hostess of my arrival. What a pretty room ! A large glass 
 window divided it from the flower room, which was one mass 
 of the loveliest plants in full bloom. While I was lost in ad- 
 miration my hostess came forward. She was a neat little lady 
 about five feet tall and about fifty years of age. Smiling pleas- 
 antly, she gave me a warm greeting. I was quite sure then I 
 should love her. Just then another member of the family 
 came in. It was Charlie, her pet dog. In his language he 
 said he liked me and I could stay. The maid, Mary, took my 
 luggage upstairs to my room, a real cozy little place where a 
 large bunch of flowers greeted me from the dresser which set 
 under a high window. How very glad I was to be in a com- 
 fortable room once more, after having slept for thirteen long 
 nights on a shelf in a stateroom which was dignified with the 
 name of a bed ! Having finished my toilet I was ready for the 
 great convention. The luncheon bell rang, I started to go down 
 stairs but, dear me, I could not get rid of the motion of the 
 ship. Although I was sure I was on shore I had not my land 
 legs and felt as though the earth was coming up to meet me 
 and was almost afraid I would roll down the steps instead of 
 walking. Though much in dread, I grasped the stair rail and 
 reached the last step safely. After lunch my hostess and I 
 went to the Assembly Hall where the great International 
 World’s Woman’s Christian Temperance Union was held. 
 What a large place, seating about five thousand people and 
 every seat filled ! I passed up my credentials to the President, 
 Lady Henry Somerset. My two friends, Miss Lynch and Mrs. 
 Lawson, came in and we three were the only persons of color 
 in that large assembly. It seemed as if everyone was looking 
 at us. We knew colored people were very scarce in Scotland, 
 and therefore we paid no attention to their curious though 
 pleasant gaze. At the close of the session I was pressed by 
 many ladies to attend the reception given by the British 
 W. C. T. U., in their cafe, at No. 70 Princes street, but I was 
 anxious to get back to my cozy room and bed, so I slipped 
 away. 
 
 Saturday morning came only too soon. I should like so 
 much to have remained in bed a little longer, but I had to get 
 
AT THE CONVENTION 
 
 63 
 
 ready and be away to the convention. Very little was done 
 that day other than presentations of greetings from various or- 
 ganizations. This was over at five p. m. We went to a recep- 
 tion five miles out of town, at the Hydro, with a walk of an 
 additional mile after leaving the cars ; we returned in a drizzling 
 rain for which Scotland is famous. Arriving at home, my 
 hostess met me at the door and informed me that I was to go 
 to Balernor, about six miles out of town. The cars did not run 
 on Sundays, hence I had to leave for this place within fifty 
 minutes as the last train left at 9:30 p. m. Saturday. I was to 
 return on Monday morning. At this news I looked so gloomy 
 that she said I should not go that night. “I shall take you in 
 my carriage to-morrow at six p. m., to speak for the Rev. Mr. 
 Scott.” Of course I was delighted and made myself at ease 
 for the night. 
 
 Sunday was bright and clear. We had a hearty breakfast, 
 after which my hostess read a selection from the Bible and we 
 had prayers. We then donned our hats for St. George’s Pres- 
 byterian Church, a large grey-stone building, sitting on a corner 
 with the loveliest chimes ringing out. We entered and sat for 
 about twenty minutes listening to the blind organist sending 
 forth such sweet, plaintive strains. The minister came in 
 from a side door to the rostrum and we listened to a touching 
 sermon from Rev. Mr. White. Then the communion, and oh, 
 how solemn, as the cup was passed to over a thousand people ! 
 After the services we returned home to dinner. Afterwards we 
 prepared to go through a driving rain to Balernor where I felt 
 as if I were going for nothing, for what audience could be ex- 
 pected in such a pouring rain ! We at last drove up to the door 
 of the manse (parsonage). The beadel (sexton), a sleepy look- 
 ing fellow, came out to meet us and led us to the door where 
 the minister’s wife bade us come into the manse and get a cup 
 of tea, which was quite welcome after our long cold ride, the 
 wife and daughter serving us. 
 
 Six o’clock came, the hour for service ; it was still raining. 
 A few steps brought us to the vestry at the rear of the pulpit. 
 The minister explained that because of the wet weather we 
 need not expect many people. He was an old gentleman with 
 a Scotch flavor to all he did and said. Well, we left the vestry 
 for the rostrum, ushered by the beadle, and to my surprise 
 nearly two hundred people were waiting, having walked in the 
 rain to hear me, as it had been advertised on Saturday that I 
 
64 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 would speak. No papers are printed in Edinburgh on Sunday. 
 
 I delivered an address of forty-five minutes. The audience 
 was moved to tears when I related some of my experiences in 
 prison work. The collection was given to the British W. C. T. 
 U. We bade the minister and wife good-bye and took our six 
 miles’ ride back, the rain continuing. The scenery around 
 Balernor is very pretty with its quaintly built stone houses with 
 red tiled roofs. The sheep were grazing on the many hills, 
 some of them 200 feet high. At last we reached home and we 
 were served another cup of tea, and in a little while were off 
 to bed for a much-needed rest. 
 
 Monday, nine a. m., found me again at the convention. 
 Mrs. Stevens, president of the United States W. C. T. U., wa9 
 in the chair. At the close of the morning session, about one 
 o’clock, Rev. Mr. Sutherland and wife, who were entertaining 
 my friends, Miss Lynch and Mrs. Lawson, invited me to go 
 with them to visit the Edinburgh Castle. Of course I was glad 
 to go ; and passing by the quaint looking Scottish soldiers with 
 their short, pleated plaid-skirts reaching just above their knees, 
 queer oval-shaped caps on their heads, and swords dangling at 
 their sides. We climbed up in this building until I thought I 
 could ascend no further, but at last, we reached the crown- 
 room, where the jewels of the ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots 
 are enclosed in a large glass case, with an iron fence around it. 
 They still show their original rich brilliancy. The crown is 
 thickly set with jewels of every color. We left here and visited 
 her bedroom where her son was born, and lowered from the 
 window to the ground, a distance of about 300 feet, by means 
 of which the enemy was foiled for the time being. What a 
 small bedroom this Queen had ! It was about six feet wide and 
 nine feet long, with one window and a door. After this we 
 visited St. Margaret’s Chapel on the same hill. We sat on the 
 stone wall and looked down 300 feet at the passers-by on 
 Princes street, the most beautiful I have ever seen. How beau- 
 tiful is the view from this wall ! The garden below was full of 
 flowers, the trees were robed in leaves of bright fresh green, 
 the birds were flying in and out. Mr. Sutherland said we must 
 have our pictures taken here, so we posed on the steps of the 
 chapel while he pointed his kodak at us. So enchanted were 
 we that we spent more time there than we should have, and we 
 hurried back to the hall. Our lunch hour had passed. The 
 presentations, though, w T ere not over. We sat and waited our 
 
AT THE CONVENTION 
 
 65 
 
 turn. Mrs. Lawson was presented and. made a neat little 
 speech which the audience applauded. Then I was presented 
 by Lady Henry, behind whom I had been standing. I bowed 
 and started away, when she asked me to address them. I made 
 a three minutes’ talk and stepped down. It seemed as if those 
 5,000 people would bring the hall down on me with applause. 
 I was called back by Lady Henry, and thanked them for their 
 kind reception. Still they applauded. We sang a hymn, and 
 left for a reception at the Royal Terrace, where we spent a 
 delightful hour, then left for home. 
 
 Tuesday at ten a. m. found us again at the convention, 
 Mrs. Stevens in the chair. Miss Lynch was presented and 
 made a pleasant speech which was greatly applauded. At the 
 luncheon hour we were treated to a carriage ride to Holy Rood 
 Castle, the home of Queen Mary. We were shown the beauti- 
 ful tapestry which barely holds together, and seems ready to 
 fall at any moment. The pictures of John Knox and Queen 
 Mary face each other. Darnley, her husband, and his little 
 son, hang on the wall alone. We were shown into their bed- 
 rooms. The guide showed us spots of blood on the floor at 
 the foot of the bed, which he said was the blood of Rossi, 
 spilled there the night he was assassinated by Queen Mary’s 
 husband. I laughed and asked him if he thought I could be- 
 lieve, after hundreds of years, those blood stains were those of 
 poor Rossi, the musician. After seeing it was useless to try 
 further to have us believe his story, he said : “Well, marm, sure 
 you have good sense ;the relic-hunters cut the spots out of the 
 floor long ago, again and again, and we had to put old boards in 
 the place and keep on sprinkling red ink on them, for the curi- 
 ous public demands to see the spot, and we had to oblige them.” 
 
 We went down into the old chapel adjoining the castle. 
 Only the walls stand. Here we saw the graves of the Scottish 
 royalty. The headstones were weather -beaten and uncared for. 
 We then started for the gate and as Mr. Sutherland did not see 
 how he could allow us to pass from so historic a spot without 
 taking some memento, he lined us up again in front of the door 
 and took our pictures standing in the gate of Holy Rood Castle^ 
 We then went to the House of Parliament which was in session. 
 Lord McDonald presiding. It looked so strange to see all the 
 advocates before the bar with their long black gowns reaching 
 to the floor and white curled wigs on their heads. We were 
 hurried away to see the library, which is an immense building. 
 
66 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 I am sure one would die of paresis should he try to read 
 one-half of one-tenth of those books. 
 
 I saw a mummy standing in a glass case, said to be Pha- 
 raoh’s daughter, the foster mother of Moses. We left here for 
 the street where John Knox is buried in front of St. Giles 
 Church, all the vehicles passing over the spot. The great man 
 of God has a strange resting place. It was then two o’clock, 
 and we had to hurry back to the hall for the evening session. 
 They were hearing reports from the many superintendents; 
 and they were all splendid, showing what a grand work these 
 women were doing. We adjourned, and my hostess hurried 
 me home where we prepared to attend the reception given by 
 Hon. Mitchell Thompson, the Lord Provost of Scotland, as- 
 sisted by his magistrates and Council, for the International W. 
 C. T. U. delegates. 
 
 As we arrived within two squares of the Art Museum 
 where the reception was being held, our carriage was placed in 
 line, and my ! such a line, almost as far as the eye could see. 
 We left our carriage at the beautifully decorated entrance and 
 my hostess preceding, led to the cloak room where she gave me 
 an approving look-over, and remarked smilingly, “You are all 
 right.” We fell in line and were presented to the Lord Pro- 
 vost, after which we were invited to ices, then to a seat in the 
 gallery where we had a good view of the many pretty costumes 
 and listened to the shrieking, ugly sound of the bagpipes which 
 I like, at a distance. At last we left, and glad I was to leave 
 the crowd. I shall never be able to remember even the faces of 
 the many persons to whom I was introduced. 
 
 Wednesday was another day of reports at the convention. 
 The superintendent of work among the soldiers for the British 
 W. C. T. U., made a most interesting report. She had just 
 come from South Africa where the soldiers were under fire, 
 and told of a Soldiers’ Rest she had opened as a competition 
 to the saloon, and how she had almost ruined the business of 
 the saloonkeeper. After a little routine business we clasped 
 hands in a circle round that large hall in one unbroken chain. 
 Then sang, “God be with you till we meet again,” received the 
 benediction by the Rev. Mr. Sutherland and parted — some to 
 meet in the next biennial, others around the great white throne 
 
 Thursday we spent the day sight-seeing. The governor 
 of the prison, Mr. Cristie, invited me to the prison where I re- 
 mained from nine a. m. till noon, and attended the chapel ser- 
 vices. The chaplain read a scripture lesson, then several 
 
AT THE CONVENTION 
 
 67 
 
 hymns were sung. We united in prayer and after a good ser- 
 vice the prisoners were sent into the yard for physical exer- 
 cises. I found them separated and all nice and clean. The 
 matron informed me that the majority of the women were in 
 for drinking. The women are occupied in the prison sewing 
 sacks by machine. The prison authorities get twenty- four 
 cents per hundred, and all over the hundred goes to the female 
 prisoner. These extras are saved up until the prisoners are re- 
 leased, so that they may not be penniless. The cells occupied 
 by the female prisoners are about five feet wide and seven long, 
 with two little tables placed lengthwise on which is placed a sack 
 of grass, forming a soft bed. They have two warm blankets, a 
 cup, a basin, towel,' stool and a wooden spoon. No one is aL 
 lowed in the cells but the matron who holds the keys. 
 
 Leaving the prison, I visited the historic cemetery which 
 is near by. I found here among other noted statues, a large 
 one of Abraham Lincoln, with a slave kneeling at his feet. At 
 the base of this statue the inscription : “Erected in memory of 
 the Scottish soldiers who fell in the American War for the lib- 
 erty of their colored brethren.” Of course my heart was touch- 1 
 ed and I thanked God for those noble men who sacrificed their 
 lives for this much despised and downtrodden race, who died, 
 as it were, that we might live and who believed that God cre- 
 ated all men alike. All honor and praise to those martyrs. My 
 heart felt drawn so much nearer to the Scotch people. 
 
 I left for the convention hall to meet Mrs. Saleeby, the 
 around-the-world missionary, who invited me to luncheon with 
 her. She showed me a great many relics from Bethlehem and 
 gave me a flower from Nazareth. She made an engagement 
 for me to speak at the Dean Street Church. I hurried home to 
 meet some ladies whom my hostess had invited to tea. We 
 passed a most pleasant evening in the garden. 
 
 Friday, I remained indoors to rest and answer letters. My 
 hostess gave me the family history. She is the daughter of the 
 late Baronet Hog and a direct relative of King William IV, 
 who held the throne just prior to her Majesty, Queen Victoria. 
 Yet my hostess was not the least haughty but a noble Christian 
 lady who is as kind to her servants as can be, and whom they 
 love dearly. Her lovely home is her joy. The garden is filled 
 with a variety of the most exquisite flowers, which she gathers 
 by baskets every day and sends to the many infirmaries. Then 
 she has a gem flower always ready for the shop girls she meets, 
 even the conductors and the cabby must have a buttonhole 
 
68 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 bouquet. She has a home for poor crippled girls for whom 
 she cares, teaching them dressmaking, and helping them to help 
 themselves. A matron who is a kindly middle-aged woman, 
 watches over this home. She gives a garden party every week 
 for the working girls, a different set each week. I was delight- 
 ed to hear her speak. My hostess was continually planning 
 some new pleasure for me, and often when I stood enraptured 
 by some beautiful scenery to which she had called my attention 
 I would hear her cheerful voice calling, “Come away, how, and 
 see this a bit.” I would smile and go to her side. One could 
 not help loving her. By this constant attention, which often 
 took the tangible form of some little gift which was just what 
 I needed (and wondered how she knew I needed it), I was won 
 to admire and sincerely love her. My week was uo and I had 
 planned to leave, but she said, “Nay, stav another week; I want 
 you.” 
 
 Sunday I attended church with her and heard the other 
 minister, Mr. Black, for her church was large enough to re- 
 quire the services of two ministers, both of whom were kept 
 busy during the week attending needy members. After services 
 and dinner at home we went to the Cripple Children’s Home, 
 kept by my hostess, and where I had been advertised to speak. 
 At six o’clock p. m. I entered the assembly room which was 
 filled with an expectant audience, and as I spoke many were 
 moved to tears. The children afterward crowded around and 
 begged me to sing one more hymn; this I did before leaving. 
 
 Monday we visited John Knox’s house. Having reached 
 the house of this fearless Christian we ascended the stairs and 
 met the keeper at the door, a little old stout Scotch woman 
 whose eyes were filled with water and nose full of snuff. We 
 gave her sixpence and passed into the room where John Knox, 
 the galley slave who broke a nation’s fetters, died. As we 
 looked over this sacred apartment we were touched with the 
 simplicity of the scantily furnished place, utterly devoid of 
 comfort ; the ceilings so low that one can reach up and touch 
 them. Here is the picture of John Knox preaching to Mary 
 Queen of Scots in the St. Giles Church, and underneath the 
 words he used in his sermon in the year 1560, that caused 
 Mary to become so indignant. What that great man must have 
 suffered cannot fully be realized until the surroundings have 
 been visited and seen as they were in that day. Then we can 
 understand what he sacrificed for his belief in religious liberty. 
 
AT THE CONVENTION 
 
 69 
 
 He chose this motto for the Church of Scotland : Matthew 
 xxiv: 14. 
 
 We left here and went home to prepare for a reception 
 tendered Miss Johannis Dottir of Iceland and myself. We 
 reached the home of Mrs. Heron where we spent a delightful 
 evening. I told of my prison work, the audience seemed spell- 
 bound. I sat down amid a storm of applause. How pleasant 
 to know that some one is in sympathy with you in an undertak- 
 ing that is by no means popular ! The little Icelander threw 
 her arms about me and kissed me good-bye at the conclusion 
 and expressed a fond hope of meeting me again. My hostess 
 took my arm and we were off. It was raining but we reached 
 home and found Mary, the faithful maid, had made a cheerful 
 fire in the dining room and had a hot supper, both of which 
 were very much enjoyed. After tea the bell was rung, the ser- 
 vants filed in, and Miss Hog read the Bible. We knelt in pray- 
 er, then off to bed I went with the sound of her kindly “glide 
 night’’ ringing like music in my ears. 
 
 Tuesday we remained in all day. As night approached I 
 prepared to go to the Dean Street Church Hall where I filled an 
 engagement made by Mrs. Saleeby. My hostess sent me off 
 early in the carriage to Rev. Mr. Anderson’s home, where I was 
 to have tea with a few friends whom Mrs. Anderson had invit- 
 ed to meet me before I went to the hall. Arriving there I met 
 the friends and had a chat with them. Rev. Mr. Anderson 
 tendered his services to take me to a few places of historic in- 
 terest; we made an appointment for Wednesday, ten a. m. Tea 
 over, we left for the hall. Although it was raining, the large 
 hall was nearly filled. After singing by the choir, Rev. Mr. 
 Anderson introduced me. I spoke to a poor class of people and 
 endeavored to say what I thought would interest them most. 
 They seemed deeply interested. After dismission many lin- 
 gered to shake my hand and to whisper, “God bless and watch 
 over you.” My hostess, with the minister, his wife and I. 
 agreed to take a stroll through the gardens, which are very 
 beautiful. We reached the gate, and ascended Dean Street 
 bridge, from the center of which we had a fair view of the 
 gardens. The sight was most picturesque. The walk of red 
 pebbles five feet in width winds its way in and out the garden 
 shrubbery and flowers. Two hundred feet below flows the 
 water of Leith tumbling over the rocks. I am told a good 
 many persons have committed suicide by leaping over the rail- 
 
70 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 ings of the bridge into the rocky bed of the Leith. The scene 
 below is indeed inviting for as I leaned over the rail a peculiar 
 feeling came over me. I was fascinated with the scenery. The 
 wind moaning in the trees, the faint sound of the running wa- 
 ter, all seem to beckon one to become a part by stepping over 
 the rail. My hostess, knowing the fatal influence this scenery 
 has over one who dares to linger over it, grew fearful for me 
 and said : “Come away, now ; we must hasten, it is late.” Still 
 I could not realize it, for although it was ten o’clock p. m., one 
 could easily read without a light. The twilight here is very 
 long. We hurried home to supper, then to prayers and to bed. 
 
 Wednesday morning dawned clear and bright. With rain- 
 coat on my arm and umbrella in hand, after breakfast, I went 
 sight-seeing with Rev. Mr. Anderson. I went thus prepared 
 for the rainlike mist for which Scotland is noted even on the 
 prettiest day. When one least expects the skies of Scotland 
 weep. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Anderson sought to have me visit the most inter- 
 esting places and accordingly took me over to the Presbytery 
 Synod, a spacious building in which are kept antiquated relics 
 of the early Protestant churches. Some of the oldest pulpits 
 of Scotland are stored here, and valuable manuscripts as me- 
 mentoes of “ye auld lang syne.” Here I was introduced to Mr. 
 Buchanan, the Grand Secretary of the Presbyterian Church. 
 After looking over Bibles nearly a thousand years old, we left 
 to visit the Royal Infirmary where I saw a few gruesome sights 
 of which I soon tired and left, as I did not desire to keep com- 
 pany with the dead. 
 
 We left here and walked through the old grass market. I 
 stood on the stone circle where the gallows at one time were, 
 and from which so many souls, because of their religious be- 
 liefs, were swung into eternity. Then we strolled through the 
 cow-gate, a dirty, foul-smelling street with rag stores along one 
 side, and to the right of which was the Magdaline Church, once 
 the home of David Livingston, who gave his heart to Africa in 
 his Christly mission. Here we saw the names of others who 
 died for the same cause. Passing to the vestry through a side 
 door, we were shown a small oaken table, about three feet long, 
 on which was a dark red cloth. It was on this table, we were 
 told, that the head of the Duke of Argyle was placed and sev- 
 ered from the body, because he dared to be a Presbyterian. It 
 is said the cloth is the same. It is as stiff as leather, in the cen- 
 
AT THE CONVENTION 
 
 71 
 
 ter. I tried in vain with my fingers to rumple it where the 
 blood is supposed to have soaked in. 
 
 We next visited Gray Friars Cemetery, which is just 
 around the corner. As we entered the city of the dead, and 
 read on the stone slabs, sacredly erected to the memories of 
 the Christian heroes, we found a record of 1,800 souls put to 
 death because they dared to worship Christ according to their 
 own belief. Here lie their bones, awaiting the resurrection 
 morn, when they will awake in the likeness of Christ for whom 
 they died, and will see Him as He is. As I stood thinking of 
 their intense suffering I thanked God that it is far different to- 
 day, that we need have no fear as we awake in the morning that 
 an order awaits us to march to the guillotine or the gallows. 
 The grave-diggers were preparing to plant an iron post, and 
 had unearthed a tooth, which I took as a souvenir of this spot. 
 We passed on to the grave of the father of Sir Walter Scott, 
 then on to the Gray Friars Church, around which they used to 
 bury criminals. In fact, the churchyard was used during the 
 time of the beheading of the duke and other martyrs as a bury- 
 ing ground for all kinds and classes of criminals. Like our 
 Lord, these noble Christian characters were numbered among 
 the lowest transgressors. 
 
 We left here to visit St. Giles Cathedral. Entering, we 
 gave twelve cents to the doorkeeper. My ! what a grand sol- 
 emn old place this gray stone pile is ! What lovely stained 
 glass windows, with lifelike pictures of Queen Mary and her 
 attendants; with John Knox preaching to her while she is bow- 
 ing, and his eyes seemingly trying to pierce her body to find her 
 soul and touch it with his religious fervor. Just then the or- 
 ganist played a dirge. As the deep tones swelled and filled 
 the church with its melody, every nerve in my body seemed to 
 vibrate. My eyes filled with tears which rolled down my 
 cheeks before I knew it. How sublime ! He finished. My 
 feet felt planted to the spot and my spirit seemed to grow light. 
 Rev. Mr. Anderson now showed me an ivory casket containing 
 the remains of some of the nobility, dead over a hundred years. 
 We passed on to the rear of the church, and met one of the 
 directors, who was pleased to see us, and offered a sniff of his 
 snuff. It is considered quite a condescension for a Scotchman 
 to offer you his snuff, but I very politely declined his gracious 
 offer. He gave me a look which indicated that “You don’t 
 know what’s good.” We then left for home. 
 
72 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 On our arrival, my hostess surprised me by saying I must 
 wind up the day’s work by visiting the Fourth Bridge. Dinner 
 over, we hurriedly boarded the train and were soon at the 
 bridge. It is a splendid piece of mechanism, well and strongly 
 constructed of steel and rocks and good for many years to 
 come. The scenery around is very pretty. Charlie, the little 
 pet dog of my hostess, was along. He, as everyone else, loves 
 her. He made us walk rather fast by running ahead and look- 
 ing back, as much as to say: “Hurry on, or you won’t see what 
 I see.” 
 
 Thursday we visited the Art Gallery. Mary, the maid, 
 and I started about ten o’clock a. m. Here we found the large 
 hall set apart for many things of historic value to Edinburgh. 
 First of all, the guillotine which was used to behead the Duke 
 of Argyle. This is a large black wooden affair which slides up 
 and down about seven feet, with a huge knife attached. We 
 saw, too, a brass thumb-screw, used to torture the unfortunate 
 prisoner to make him tell what he knew would convict him. 
 Sometimes the tormentor would crush the thumb until it be- 
 came perfectly flat. Still another instrument of torture in the 
 form of a ring to fit around the throat. This ring was attached 
 to a staple driven in the wall. This constituted the stocks in 
 which they were securely placed with hands and feet locked. 
 Among the relics we found the pulpit used by John Knox. 
 Going from the hall into the art gallery proper we found the 
 pictures of great men and women. In another hall which con- 
 tains ancient religious relics, were many mummies. Some were 
 4,000 years old, lying here dark and still. We saw many gods 
 made by the people of hundreds of years ago. We found a 
 slab from the walls of Ninevah, with an ancient ruler of that 
 day offering a kind of concoction in a bowl to his particular 
 god. A eunuch stood by with a brush, keeping off the flies, 
 for it would be unholy should a fly fall into the bowl. 
 
 Home again, my hostess made ready to entertain a party of 
 twenty-five young ladies at tea who had been invited from the 
 bakeshop in Edinburgh, where they served as salesgirls. Soon 
 the garden resounded with their glad laughter. They were 
 pleased and enjoyed themselves. After refreshments, we gath- 
 ered in the dining room. My hostess requested me to sing and 
 give them a few words of advice and encouragement, which I 
 endeavored to do. Finally, the handshaking and parting was 
 over and we had evening prayers and went to rest. 
 
IN GLASGOW 
 
 73 
 
 I spent Friday morning in packing my belongings, getting 
 ready to take my leave on the two p. m. train. After dinner I 
 bade the servants good-bye with some regret at leaving these 
 newly-made friends. My hostess accompanied me, with Char- 
 lie, who looked so wistful that we felt he must go along. At 
 the station my hostess met a friend who was also going to Glas- 
 gow ; we were introduced. The train came up, the parcels were 
 gathered together, I kissed my hostess good-bye with deep re- 
 gret, for I have learned to love, honor and admire her. A lump 
 rose in my throat. Then I remembered I had not told Charlie 
 good-bye. I looked out of the window, patted him on the head, 
 and even the dog looked sorry and let his ears droop in seemihg 
 sadness as we were off for Glasgow. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN GLASGOW. 
 
 After speeding through miles of beautiful scenery, stop- 
 ping a few minutes at Linlithgow, the birthplace of the ill-fated 
 Mary Queen of Scots, we reached our destination. Such a con- 
 fusion over baggage that one is reminded of a Kilkenny cat- 
 fight, and it is no wonder this confusion arises, as no checks 
 are given. This is not America. I at once recognized mine, 
 however. I had a porter (whom I had to give a tip) place it 
 safely in a cab, and after a few minutes’ ride through crowded 
 thoroughfares, we arrived at the Young Women’s Christian 
 Association Home, where we were to be accommodated. The 
 cabby brought in my luggage and I paid him my fare, but he 
 stared at me as much as to say, “My tip.” I gave him a six- 
 pence. He took it and walked away with his head well up as I 
 didn't even deserve to be thanked. My room, though very 
 small, was comfortable. I thanked the Lord I was among 
 Christians. Better by far than I would have been had I been 
 in some public hotel with an atmosphere offensive with the odor 
 of liquor and the like. 
 
 Saturday was a rainy day, but I was anxious to see some 
 of the sights, so I donned my water-proof and started out for 
 the postoffice. I was told it was about a ten-minute walk. The 
 young lady who volunteered to accompany me, said, “It’s just 
 here.” After walking about a mile in a slow rain, and when I 
 felt like asking whether she had lost her way, she mounted the 
 steps of an ordinary looking building and we were at the post- 
 
74 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 office. I purchased stamps, mailed my letters and we retraced 
 our steps to the Young Women’s Christian Association build- 
 ing, where we were glad to remain for the rest of the day. 
 
 Sunday dawned bright and clear. At breakfast the ma- 
 tron, Mrs. Grant, whom all the girls seem to love and obey, in- 
 vited us to the Bareheaded Mission. I asked if it was far and 
 received the reply that it was just about twenty minutes’ walk. 
 I went with them and felt quite sore, for it was hardly less than 
 two miles on the hard stones. With the others, I registered on 
 our arrival at the large mission. I decided to inquire, though, 
 what was meant by so many minutes’ walk, for if they said a 
 mile I knew it meant two ; if they said twenty minutes, I should 
 board a car. Christian people in Glasgow consider it a sin to 
 ride in a car on Sundays and on that day refrain from patron- 
 izing them. 
 
 There were about 300 people present at the Bareheaded 
 Mission. Of that number about 200 were bareheaded. I was 
 told by the minister, another Mr. Buchanan, that the members 
 are requested to wear nothing on their heads when coming to 
 the eleven o’clock services, but tocome in their working clothes 
 and invite anyone upon the streets to come along, no matter how 
 they were dressed. In this way the slum element is reached 
 and helped to a better life. By request I addressed them for 
 fifteen minutes. They seemed deeply impressed and asked me 
 to address them again at night. I at first declined on account 
 of living so far away, but the directress prevailed upon me to 
 remain and dine with them and speak again. I spoke and we 
 had a good spiritual revival. After singing a closing hymn, 
 the benediction was pronounced, then followed a general 
 handshaking and we were off for our quarters. 
 
 Monday was a dreary day and I was to speak at the Bible 
 Training Institute in Bothwell street. My rain-coat was again 
 called into service and I reached the institute in a pouring 
 rain more to fill the engagement than to find anyone there. 
 But I found a fair audience anxiously awaiting my coming. 
 God’s presence was again manifested, for in the amen cor- 
 ner, as well as in the rear, could be heard, “Praise the Lord,” 
 “Bless His Holy Name.” After dismission I was invited by 
 Mr. Miller to speak at Finiston Church on Wednesday. I 
 then left for my boarding house to find Mr. Ross, pastor of 
 Cowcadden Church, awaiting me to arrange for me to speak 
 at his church on Thursday afternoon. As I am working for 
 
IN GLASGOW 
 
 75 
 
 the advancement of the Master’s Kingdom, doing in an hum- 
 ble way whatever I can, to this request I also consented. 
 
 Tuesday I was invited by the two Misses Compton of Cali- 
 fornia to go with them to Alloway, the home of Robert Burns, 
 the gifted poet. Dr. Gleason, a maiden lady of Buffalo, N. Y., 
 by request joined the party. We went to the station, secured 
 tickets and after about two hours’ ride we reached the outskirts 
 of the city where hundreds of soldiers’ tents were pitched which 
 added more interest to the already picturesque scenery. To 
 the right were the Scotch with their pleated skirts reaching to 
 the knee, their caps set jauntily upon their heads. To the left 
 were great numbers with dark trousers and red coats, all drill- 
 ing and learning the tactics of war, to be sent to the front to 
 protect Her Majesty’s interests. We reached the station and 
 took a cab to the home of Burns, about two miles out of town. 
 What a lovely ride ! We soon reached the shaded drive, which 
 was made more pleasant and beautiful by the sunbeams creep- 
 ing gently through the foliage. Our open conveyance gave us 
 the fullest benefit of it all. Alighting at the door. Miss Comp- 
 ton, who had a camera, took our pictures standing near the 
 window just before we entered the house. We entered the 
 place and like the room of John Knox, the ceiling was so low I 
 could easily reach it. In one corner of the wall built like an 
 oven, is the bed in which the great Burns was born. His moth- 
 er prophesied his future greatness in these words : 
 
 “The gossips keekit in his loof, 
 
 Quo she who lives will see the proof. 
 
 This waly boy will be nae coof. — 
 
 I think we’ll call him Robin.” 
 
 We bought a few mementoes, then made our way to th« 
 monument of Robert Burns where he and his friends sit to- 
 gether in stone as they were wont to do in life. We left here 
 to walk down to the Bonnie Doon river. W e stood on the old 
 bridge of stone said to be over 700 years old, gazed upon the 
 scenery around about the road along the side of the stream. 
 Here we heard the low murmuring of the wind among the 
 trees, the soft, gentle rippling of the water, a bird’s sweet notes 
 and over all there seemed to rest a sweet, quiet peace, all of 
 which served to inspire the poet, for in speaking of his love for 
 the Doon, he said : 
 
76 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 “Oft hae I roved by Bonnie Doon, 
 
 To see the rose and woodbine twine, 
 
 And like a bird sang of its love, 
 
 And fondly sae did I o’ mine.” 
 
 I am reminded of the thrilling experience of Tam O’Shan- 
 ter’s daring midnight ride, urging his old gray mare to greater 
 speed until the center of the bridge is reached when he dis- 
 covers that the animal has lost its tail. 
 
 We went up the lane a short distance, turned and crossed 
 the new iron bridge, and another pretty sight greeted the eye. 
 On either side of the river, which is about thirty feet wide, 
 there were great beds of white wild daisies climbing the steep 
 banks, with bits of purple heather and elders in full bloom here 
 and there. 
 
 We passed on to the old Kirk of which Burns wrote, where 
 his kin are sleeping, covered with moss and uncared for. The 
 stone walls of the old church still stand but the roof has entirely 
 disappeared. Our time was up and we hastened back to town. 
 It lacked an hour of train time. We took a short stroll down 
 to the river Clyde, then back to the station. In a little while we 
 were back to the cars and soon in our rooms. I found charm- 
 ing company in my newly-made friends. They were very kind. 
 I never saw two sisters so devoted to each other. There did 
 not seem to be the least selfishness in either. 
 
 Wednesday I remained indoors to rest and write. 
 
 Thursday was a wet day and made me wonder what Scot- 
 land was crying about. I was determined, though, to go out 
 and I got my feet wet for my trouble. In the evening I went 
 to Cawcadden’s Church where I found a large crowd from the 
 slums. I spoke to them twenty minutes. Ten persons came 
 up to be prayed for and take the temperance pledge. 
 
 Whenever I was invited to speak in the mission halls I 
 knew there would be large crowds. These halls are churches 
 and I don’t know for what reason they are called halls, un- 
 less it is because the poor assemble there. 
 
 Friday I was asked to come back. I went and we had an- 
 other splendid meeting, five persons professing saving faith in 
 Christ. I returned home to find an invitation from the Vic* 
 toria Mission directors to a fair-week trip to Tat-v>p r t. I ac- 
 cepted. On Saturday morning at seven o’clock I was at the 
 wharf where there were five steamers each carrying about 200 
 persons. I found my way to the steamer “Ben More.” On 
 
IN GLASGOW 
 
 77 
 
 deck I met many friends and was introduced to many strang- 
 ers. As for provisions it was clear we would not lack, for 
 among this cargo of human freight, about two hundred and 
 fifty, I saw buckets, barrels and boxes of foodstuff and was 
 sure there was enough to last the week. Mr. and Mrs. Cap- 
 tain Forsythe were also in the party. There were ten or 
 more assistants to help care for us. 
 
 After a delightful steam down the Clyde, which is lined on 
 either side with high hills dotted here and there with magnifi- 
 cent summer residences, and now and then the ruins of an old 
 castle covered with moss of many years, we turned into the 
 Loch and caught sight of the pier crowded with spectators. 
 Soon we were ashore. The boys, fifty in number, were sent 
 to another camp in care of a captain and his wife, while the 
 party of two hundred girls went to the Tarbert village school. 
 A walk of a mile brought us to the grounds where we found 
 five buildings awaiting our occupancy. There were four large 
 dormitories where the girls slept, a kitchen with three cooks 
 — strong buxom Scotch women ; then a spacious dining room 
 where the two hundred can be seated at once. Soon the drays 
 came up and all the provisions were put in the storehouse, the 
 dishes in place, our luggage brought and we were prepared for 
 the week’s picnic. We got all the fresh milk and butter brought 
 to us every morning except Sunday, when we had to send for 
 it, for the milkman refused to deliver on that day. Five girls 
 volunteered to go and bring a gallon apiece, so we would not be 
 deprived of our Scotch porridge. 
 
 We were up at six, breakfasted at eight, then prayers and 
 off to the hills till one, when we returned to dinner. Then 
 away to another part of the hills, to some old ruin till seven. 
 We had supper and then down to the pier where we gathered 
 with our hymn books and Bibles. We sang and prayed. Mr. 
 Humphries, a splendid speaker, read the scripture lesson and 
 exhorted from it. Mr. Buchanan, whom the village children 
 are overjoyed to meet, distributed candies and heart-shaped red 
 and blue cards on which were printed scripture verses in gold 
 letters. We were dismissed with a blessing and being thor- 
 oughly tired out were glad to seek sleep. 
 
 Sunday dawned a lovely day. We gathered in the dining 
 room. The girls had returned with the milk and we were 
 ready for our porridge. Each received a generous bowl, of 
 which I had become very fond. After breakfast we were off to 
 church ; but as I was on the dinner committee, as soon as we 
 
78 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME 
 
 were dismissed I hurried to the hall to help to dish up and serve 
 the dinner of new potatoes with cream, beef, boiled ham, but- 
 termilk, bread, Jam, and cakes. At two o’clock we attended 
 the Established Church, heard a good sermon by Mr. Campbell, 
 and returned to tea. Then down to the pier where we had our 
 evening meeting. 
 
 Monday, our captain, Mr. Forsythe, told us we were to go 
 for a climb on the highest hill, where we could get a clear view 
 of the finest scenery around Tarbert. Well, we reached the 
 top of the hill after a good many sighs, as it was very steep. 
 My ! what romantic scenery greeted our eyes ! It seemed there 
 were at least one hundred fishing smacks off for the night’s 
 fishing. Here and there little islands as it were, lay sprinkled 
 in the lake. There, opposite us on the other side of the lake, 
 nestled a pretty stone house just under the shadow of the rock, 
 which was covered with a moss-like purple flower called heath- 
 er, a white wild daisy, a bit of honeysuckle trailing itself in and 
 out, a tiny yellow flower, together with bunches of wild thyme. 
 The water seemed to have been dyed deep by the shadow of 
 the beautiful blue sky overhead. To look upon this wonderful 
 arrangement of nature one can only exclaim, “How lovely ! 
 How sublime ! How exquisitely beautiful !” 
 
 Mr. Wark, who had a store of fun-provoking stories, re- 
 lated one, and the hill resounded with peals of laughter from 
 the many throats. Mr. Buchanan, who was slenderly built and 
 about fifty years of age, but as spry and gay as a lad of eighteen 
 had his concertina along. He played several tunes and after I 
 had given a song we began the descent, which we found rather 
 difficult. Many who began walking gingerly found themselves 
 sliding down and catching at the air. At last we were at the 
 bottom on the road home, when several drunken fishermen came 
 reeling along, making ugly grimaces at us, and singing a song 
 in a voice that sounded like a nutmeg grater. 
 
 What is more disgusting than an irresponsible drunken 
 person, tottering on the street, taking up nearly all the sidewalk. 
 The foul smell — Oh, how I wish I could bottle up their horrid 
 breaths and when their sober moments come I should like to 
 remove the cork and give them a generous whiff. I pity the 
 poor individuals who are tied for life to such creatures and 
 forced to endure this sickening stench through the long night 
 for years. Perhaps you can recall to mind some miserable 
 wretch who does not stand as master of himself but is under 
 the control of this awful demon. Dipsomania ought to be 
 
IN GLASGOW 
 
 79 
 
 treated as insanity. Persons who have the ailment are really a 
 worse menace to society than the mildly insane. The dipso- 
 manist is allowed to roam at large, if he pleases, and mingles 
 unhindered with many children. He is sometimes entrusted 
 with an engine attached to cars loaded with hundreds of human 
 beings. I never board a car or boat without a prayer to be 
 delivered from a drinking official who may be in charge, for 
 there is no telling when his appetite will get the better of him, 
 and whilst he is deep in his cup the unsuspecting passengers 
 may be brought face to face with death. 
 
 I sometimes wish I could draw back the veil that ob- 
 scures the future from the present and bid the individual 
 look and see where the first glass of intoxicant will lead. I 
 have talked with men whom it led to the gallows ; women 
 who sold out all that life holds dear to women. I have been 
 into homes that it has wrecked ; fed babies it left hungry 
 and unclad. I have stood by graves it has made. I have 
 tried to carry sunshine where it had caused despondency 
 and gloom. Oh, Drink, thou hast given me more work and 
 worry than all the other evils and vices put together ! A heart- 
 rending scene comes to my mind which I shall never forget. 
 The scene was in the Court House in New Orleans, Lou- 
 isiana. “I am a slave to liquor!’’ cried a poor woman. “For 
 God’s sake, judge, give me a home- — a home, not for thirty 
 days, but one to end my days in.” 
 
 These words coming in a tremulous, husky voice were 
 addressed to Judge Edward Finnegan of the First Re- 
 corder’s Court. They came from a woman standing before 
 the bar. She was dressed in a bedraggled black skirt, a 
 loose fitting sacque of the same color and a sunbonnet part- 
 ly concealing her face from view. She said her name was 
 Henrietta Luce, and that she had no home. 
 
 The woman showed the awful effect of drink and dis- 
 sipation, and was a wreck physically and morally. Her 
 face was bloated to twice its ordinary size, and thick red 
 folds hung in ugly laps, like the skin of a pachyderm. Her 
 eyes all bleared and sunken, looked out from their sockets 
 destitute of all expression. When facing the bar she held 
 her head down, showing that she had not quite lost all sense 
 of shame. 
 
80 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Mrs. Luce was found in a state of beastly intoxication 
 by Officer Yates at the corner of Basin street and Tulane 
 avenue. She was placed in a cell and at once fell into a 
 drunken sleep and didn’t awake until called before court 
 the next morning. Judge Finnegan looked at her compas- 
 sionately, and inquired as to her condition. “Judge,” said 
 the unfortunate, her voice gradually rising until it reached 
 a high treble, “I have no home. I am an outcast, and I don’t 
 know where I would lay my head this night were you to 
 release me. Oh, God,” she continued in a voice that sound- 
 ed like a wail, “I am miserable and a victim to my own 
 folly.” The scene was a pathetic one and Mrs. Luce trem- 
 bled from head to foot as she spoke. All eyes were turned 
 upon her and there were few who did not pity the miserable 
 prisoner standing, pleading to be sent to prison. 
 
 “Judge,” she again said, after a pause, speaking in a 
 husky tone, “I am an abject slave to liquor and the curse 
 is on me with such strength that I cannot shake off its 
 terrible hold. Send me to prison, your Honor, where I can’t 
 get the stuff, and there let me remain.” Her head fell and 
 she stood mute, waiting for her sentence. 
 
 “Remand the prisoner,” spoke Judge Finnegan, eyeing 
 the accused pityingly, and then in lower tones, leaning over 
 the desk to Docket Clerk Fox, “The workhouse. Fox.” 
 
 Mrs. Luce walked back to the dock and the case was 
 over. On the bloated face of the woman traces of beauty 
 could still be seen, but a few years ago, before liquor made 
 her its slave, she was doubtless, a well formed, handsome 
 woman. She was a beloved wife once, but her terrible pas- 
 sion broke up her home, and she went from bad to worse 
 until she became a common drunkard in the streets. Such 
 is the result of drink. 
 
 Looking at her I was reminded of a story of an old 
 woman. Some one presented her with a large bottle of 
 brandy cherries. One morning she sat on her porch and 
 ate them — throwing the stones into the yard. She raised 
 geese to help her earn a livelihood. The geese quickly 
 gobbled up the stones. 
 
 She went about her household duties. After several 
 hours elapsed the old woman went into the yard and was 
 amazed to see all of her fine geese lying on their backs, ap- 
 parently dead. She determined not to lose all, so called in 
 
IN GLASGOW 
 
 81 
 
 her neighbors to help pluck the feathers from their bodies, 
 desiring to get something from this source, since the geese 
 could not be sold for food. 
 
 Their bodies were carelessly thrown in a heap to be 
 buried the next morning. About 12 o’clock at night, the 
 old woman heard such a noise — squawking of geese ! She 
 jumped up, and saw all those naked geese had come to life 
 and were fussing about the loss of their clothes, which they 
 sadly needed that cold autumn night. 
 
 The old woman looked out in disgust and exclaimed, 
 “If you had quit before you began eatin’ dem brandy cher- 
 ries, you would ’a had your clothes yit.” 
 
 Ah ! if she had never begun with the social glass ; poor 
 soul would have had a home, loved ones and a respected 
 place in society ! 
 
 I must now go back to my party. 
 
 Tuesday we were to go for a sail after breakfast. The 
 day was an ideal one for boating. About eight yachts were 
 ready and we were off for a tour around the island. We 
 had a delightful time. Songs, recitations enlivened the trip 
 and now and then a dash of water, “just to let us know how 
 wet it was,” says the man at the rudder. At last we got 
 back to shore. Mr. Miller and I were on the dinner com- 
 mittee. We hurried to set the table, but Mr. Miller disap- 
 peared. Mr. Forsythe wrote out a notice of his disappear- 
 ance, offered a reward for his body, dead or alive. He was 
 at last found where he wanted to be — asleep. 
 
 When we gathered at the table the committee was 
 being congratulated for their efficient service. Mr. Wark 
 gave Dr. Wilson credit for lying in bed late in the morn- 
 ings, worrying about the fresh herrings he had ordered for 
 breakfast, fearful lest we would not get the number ordered 
 for us. He explained eloquently the doctor’s strain of mind. 
 We were compelled to sympathize with him. Mr. Miller 
 helped us wonderfully by looking commandingly at the 
 tables, as Miss Armour says, “Helping us by looking pleas- 
 ant.” Miss Armour was on all the committees for she kept 
 the keys and had charge of all the food. 
 
 Wednesday we were surprised to learn that two of the 
 gentlemen, Messrs. Strong and Humphries, had stolen away 
 in the morning early to attend a business meeting in the 
 city. We were all sorry. Miss Muir wrote a poetic lament. 
 
82 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Evening brought them back and joy reigned supreme. 
 
 On Thursday we were on the road to Stonefield, the 
 seat of the lord of the village. The scenery here simply 
 defies description. We soon reached Stonefield’s house. 
 Then down to the Lake Shore, where the girls had gath- 
 ered in groups, taking off their shoes. We contented our- 
 selves with gathering pretty shells. How time flies when 
 one is enjoying himself! Soon the hour came to return to 
 camp and we took up our two miles’ march. Finally, we 
 reached home, tired out, but quite ready to eat a good sup- 
 per, after which we had prayer meeting. The Lord blessed 
 us with ten conversions while the devil had arranged with 
 his agents to hold a dance in the hall about fifteen yards 
 from our gate. This did not, however, affect us. The girls 
 were very nice and obedient and soon all were in bed sleep- 
 ing soundly. The village boys were disappointed, for not 
 one of the girls belonging to the Society of the Religious 
 Foundry Boys was with them. 
 
 All were busy Friday morning packing up to return to 
 the city. The steamer came for us at four o’clock. Five 
 hours’ steam up the Clyde brought us to the city. We were 
 ashore very soon and anxious relatives were greeting their 
 loved ones. I was sent in Miss Armour’s carriage to the 
 Y. W. C. A., where Miss Grant gladly greeted me, showed 
 me to my room and I was soon lost in deep slumber. 
 
 Saturday morning brought me a letter from my friend, 
 Helen Noble, urging me to come to Paris, and spend a while 
 with her. I answered, promising to be with her in a week. 
 Mr. Buchanan called and invited me to visit Maryhill, the 
 city’s home for poor girls. Such a lovely place with large 
 grounds ! There were nearly two hundred girls, ranging in 
 age from six to fourteen years, all nice, clean and healthy- 
 looking. They have large dormitories with separate beds 
 for each girl and everything very comfortable. Some of the 
 children are paid for when their parents can afford it; if 
 not, the authorities keep them with just the same care, 
 teaching them to be good housekeepers. 
 
 The boys are all kept in a separate place, a little dis- 
 tance from the girls. x\ll seem happy, and everything is as 
 clean as soap and water can make it. 
 
 Mr. Buchanan insisted upon my addressing the girls 
 and singing for them, which I did, and they seemed de- 
 
GROUP OF OUR CHILDREN. 
 
IN GLASGOW 
 
 83 
 
 lighted. We left amid a chorus of good-byes. We were on 
 our way to the cars when Mr. Buchanan was besieged by 
 a throng of small boys who were demanding a text from 
 him. He made them all happy by giving each one of his 
 red, heart-shaped cards with a scripture verse printed in 
 gold thereon. 
 
 Sunday I could not walk to Victoria Hall to service, 
 as it was too far, so I attended the Methodist Church nearby, 
 and heard a good sermon by Rev. Mr. Butcher. I was in- 
 troduced and invited by him to address the Sunday School 
 at 2 :3o o’clock, to which I agreed, then left to go to Sterling, 
 a shelter for fallen women. I addressed them. They seemed 
 deeply impressed and promised to live purer lives. Having 
 delivered three addresses that day I was glad to return to 
 my room and have a quiet moment with Christ and take a 
 much needed rest. 
 
 Monday Miss Penny of Edinburgh wrote Lady Over- 
 toun, asking her to arrange a meeting for me at their 
 county seat, but as Lady Overtoun was very ill I was met 
 by Lord Overtoun, a very pleasant and unceremonious 
 gentleman, to whom I am grateful for many courtesies. 
 
 Tuesday the rain came down from a sky that promised 
 to leak all day. I remained in to attend to my wearing ap- 
 parel, which meant that I must take the proverbial stitch 
 in time in order to save nine. 
 
 Wednesday I was invited to spend the evening with 
 the Misses Cochran. I was told by the bell girl that it was 
 not far but thought it best to take a car. I knew that meant 
 at least two miles, so I boarded a car at Argyle street. After 
 I had ridden five squares the conductor made his appear- 
 ance to collect my fare, a half-penny, and I asked to be put 
 off at Monteith Row. I did not know where that was and 
 he very cheerfully informed me that he didn’t know either. 
 I had a mind to leave the car and find a conductor that did 
 know, when a gentleman hearing the conversation, po- 
 litely told me I was in the right car and that he would tell 
 me when to get off. This greatly relieved me. In a few 
 minutes we were there. I walked half a square and was at 
 their home, which faced the Peoples Palace and the beau- 
 tiful garden opposite. My hostess greeted me gladly. A 
 nice little tea party and music were in progress. At seven- 
 thirty o’clock I went to Victoria Hall to a meeting, where 
 
84 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 we discussed the trip to Tarbert and the pleasure derived 
 therefrom. Finally I bade them adieu for the night and was 
 off to the Y. W. C. A. rooms where a letter awaited me, 
 inviting me to Belfast, Ireland. I accepted this invitation 
 and decided to leave on Friday. 
 
 Thursday I dined with Capt. and Mrs. Forsyth at 
 their home at Knowhead, Cambuslang. By previous arrange- 
 ment, Miss Cathie Gronbeck came for me. After boarding a 
 car at Caledonian Station, an hour’s ride brought us to this 
 beautiful place to meet our host ond hostess. After having 
 dinner and strolled through the garden, which was filled 
 with blooming flowers, it was time to get back to the sta- 
 tion. After a little delay we were back to the city at Miss 
 Gronbeck’s, spending a few more pleasant moments. I then 
 left for the Women’s Shelter, where I was to speak. There 
 were in the chapel nearly two hundred persons. After sing- 
 ing and praying I was introduced by the matron, Miss 
 Patterson. I spoke thirty minutes, then appealed to those 
 who wished to have me explain what is meant by believing 
 in the Lord Jesus Christ or possessing saving faith, to re- 
 main and talk the matter over. All filed out, but to my 
 surprise thirty returned and desired to possess that faith. 
 I proceeded to explain as best I could our Saviour’s birth, 
 suffering and death. When I was through every face was 
 bathed in tears. I asked those who believed they were 
 saved through His having paid the debt with His own life, 
 to stand up. One stood, two, three, four, five, and I sang: 
 
 Almost persuaded, now to believe ; 
 
 Almost persuaded, Christ to receive. 
 
 Seems now some soul to say, 
 
 Go Spirit, go Thy way, 
 
 Some more convenient day, 
 
 On Thee I’ll call. 
 
 I tried also to sing this sweet song with my whole 
 heart and soul : 
 
 Savour more than life to me. 
 
 I am clinging, clinging, close to Thee ; 
 
 Let Thy precious blood applied, 
 
 Keep me ever, ever near Thy side. 
 
 Every day, every hour, 
 
 Let me feel Thy cleansing power; 
 
ON IRISH SOIL 
 
 85 
 
 May Thy tender love to me, 
 
 Bind me closer, closer, Lord to Thee. 
 
 What an outpouring of the Spirit! Twenty-five were 
 standing with that new peace shining in their faces. Their 
 tears were dried up, and they were helping me to sing. We 
 bowed our heads and thanked God for the manifestation of 
 His Holy Spirit. I sang, “What a Friend We Have in 
 Jesus,” and parted, feeling that God had abundantly re- 
 warded me for my day’s work. 
 
 As I reached the door the little band sang out, “God 
 Be With You Till We Meet Again.” 
 
 It was ten o’clock. I hurried to catch a car and reached 
 the Y. W. C. A. rooms just as they were locking the doors 
 for the night. 
 
 Friday morning I got my belongings together, break- 
 fasted at eight, then started for the Caledonian Station to 
 get the 8:45 train. Soon we reached Ardrossan, a smoky 
 mining town, then an hour’s ride and the guard called out 
 in a nasal twang, “All off for the steamers.” There were 
 two at the docks, one for Arron, the other for Belfast. I 
 took my seat on deck where it was nice and cool. Four 
 hours’ ride from Ardrossan brought us to Belfast. I was 
 the only brown person on board, and everyone seemed to 
 eye me with a “I-wonder-if-her-color-will-wash-out” expres- 
 sion on their faces. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ON IRISH SOIL. 
 
 We arrived at the Belfast docks. The licensed porters 
 were grabbing at the parcels of passengers and charging 
 six-pence to lift them from the steamer to the dock, a dis- 
 tance of perhaps fifteen feet. I carried my leather bag, 
 wrap and parcel. It was all I could do to keep them from 
 taking them from me. I held myself erect, looking sternly 
 at them and they allowed me to pass. I soon got out of 
 the crowd. I was glad that the Y. M. C. A. was not far 
 from the dock. I was thinking of American miles and I 
 asked the guide if it was a mile. He answered, “Sure not, 
 about a half.” So I made up my mind to walk as I did not 
 like the looks of those Irish jauntings, a two-wheel affair, 
 
86 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 the driver sitting on one side, the passenger on the other, 
 with the luggage in the middle. A boy begged me to let 
 him carry my satchel, saying he knew where the place was. 
 I gave him four pence to lead me to the Institute Donegal. 
 We walked for a mile in the hot sun. I asked him if he 
 really knew where the place was. “Oh, it’s a brave bit, yit.” 
 This was no consolation to me. However, when I was sure 
 I had walked two miles I reached the institute. 
 
 After dinner I boarded a train for Upper Crescent, the 
 home of Rev. Mr. Montgomery, who had advertised me to 
 speak for him Sunday at seven o’clock p. m. I was also to 
 speak that day at the Y. W. C. A. at four o’clock. I was 
 tired out and after tea I wended my way up four flights of 
 stairs and entered my room which had three beds in it. I 
 saw a figure standing in the center of the room undressing — 
 a woman, who greeted me with a smile and told me she 
 had just arrived that day and that we were to room to- 
 gether. I smiled and said to her that I was glad to have 
 company. She seemed very tired, too. Her eyes were 
 large, encircled with dark rings and were unnaturally bright. 
 Before I was undressed the gas was turned off and I was 
 in the dark. I scrambled into bed some way and was fixed 
 for a good sound sleep, but could not, as my room-mate 
 sighed so much. I asked what was the trouble. She said 
 she could not sleep on account of her headache. I offered 
 to get up and put a wet cloth on it, but she refused, saying 
 she was subject to headaches, that nothing gave her relief. 
 After a while I fell asleep but was awakened by that strange 
 feeling that some one was near me. I opened my eyes to 
 find my room-mate standing over me, sighing and wringing 
 her hands. The moon shone in at the window and fell upon 
 her ghastly pale countenance looking me squarely in the 
 face. I realized I was locked in the room with an insane 
 person. I knew it would be worse for me to show the least 
 fear, so I whispered a prayer to God for strength, and said 
 in a soft voice, “Can you not sleep, my dear? I am so sorry. 
 Shall I sit up and talk with you?” I sat up. She said, “Oh, 
 why did you awake? I am so sorry.” I put my arms 
 around her waist, told her she must kneel down and we 
 would pray to God to ease her pain. She clasped her hands 
 to her head and said her brain was on fire. I saw she had 
 bitten her finger nails until they were bleeding. I heard 
 
ON IRISH SOIL 
 
 87 
 
 the chimes say it was four. I offered another prayer. It 
 would not be long before the servants came. She knelt by 
 the bed and I by her side. I prayed aloud for God to help 
 her, to calm the spirit of unrest that had possession of her. 
 She shuddered with tears streaming down her cheeks. I 
 got her to lie down. I had often been told my hands pos- 
 sessed the power to soothe. I gently stroked her forehead 
 Thank God, who answers prayer, she went to sleep. Though 
 she breathed evenly I was afraid to leave her bedside. So 
 I sat there watching her until six o’clock. I heard the 
 servants moving about, got up quietly, stole to the door, 
 unlocked it and peered up and down the hall but saw no 
 one. I thought I would go down stairs and arouse some 
 of them, but another thought came, saying the servants 
 would be no help. They were all girls, who would simply 
 get frightened, perhaps run out, give unnecessary alarm or 
 awaken and frighten the sleeping woman. So I made up 
 my mind to say nothing, but wait till after breakfast, see the 
 superintendent, Miss Charlton, a kindly Christian lady, tell 
 her quietly and she could see to her without the crazy wo- 
 man’s knowledge. I returned to the room, keeping an eye 
 on the sleeper. At last the dressing bell rang, when she 
 awoke with a start, asking me if I had been awake long. I 
 answered, “Yes.” She said she was so tired, having slept 
 all night without moving. I said to her, “I am glad you 
 rested so well, you had better get up and dress as the 
 breakfast bell will soon ring.” She obeyed and looked at 
 me askance out of the corner of her eyes, then noticing her 
 nails were full of blood she hid them in her palms, went to 
 the bowl, washed and dried them. The bell rang. We 
 went down to breakfast together. She ate well. I was sick 
 and could only sip my tea. I was about to leave the table 
 when she caught me around the waist, and asked me to 
 come to the drawing room with her, she had something to 
 tell me. I let her lead me off to hear her story or to see 
 if she would mention anything of the night, but she wanted 
 to tell me that she had taken a great liking to me and that 
 she would like to be with me always. That she had just 
 come from a doctor’s home where she had been under his 
 care for nervous prostration, and that she was tired of him 
 and his wife. She wrote letters to her friends, that the doc- 
 tor did not treat her right, and begged to be taken away, 
 
88 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 which they did. She had a few relatives here, a father and 
 sister who are either afraid of her or did not wish to be 
 bothered with her. She got up from the chair and began 
 pacing the floor, biting her nails and wishing she were dead. 
 She went to the window, looked out and said, “I believe I 
 will jump out and get rid of this pain in my head.” I went 
 to her, took her about the waist, seated her on the sofa, and 
 told her she must never do this, for God would not receive 
 her in His kingdom. He will forgive no self-murderer. I 
 went to the piano, which stood in the corner of the drawing 
 room, and sang that sweet song, “I Must Tell Jesus All 
 My Troubles.” She became quiet and lay on the sofa, clos- 
 ing her eyes, while I quietly left the room and went to the 
 superintendent. She sent for the friend who had brought 
 the lady to the institute. The friend came and packed the 
 woman’s effects and took her back to the doctor’s whence 
 she came. She rebelled, but after some persuasion got into a 
 cab, and was soon off for the depot. 
 
 I thanked God the strain was over. I made ready to 
 speak at this mission hall for Rev. Mr. Montgomery, just 
 after speaking at on open air meeting. 
 
 Sunday I attended the Methodist Church, only a 
 square away, addressed the Sunday School, then went up- 
 stairs to hear a stirring soul-reviving sermon by one of ihe 
 local preachers and returned to the institute for dinner. At 
 four p. m. I delivered another lecture for them in the lecture- 
 room. Many were affected. I left to go to the sitting room, 
 feeling as though I had done poorly. The girls came troop- 
 ing in to see me. I felt like going to my room to inquire 
 of the Saviour for the message for the night’s meeting and 
 then to rest a bit. When I got to the door I found a girl 
 waiting there for me. I said, “Well my dear, what can I 
 do for you?” She answered, “Oh, so much!” She looked 
 around to see if anyone was near, then asked : “May I come 
 into your room?” Seeing she was troubled I put my arm 
 around her and drew her in. She shut the door. I gave 
 her a seat on the bed by my side. She reminded me of my r 
 daughter Eva as she looked up at me inquiringly. I felt 
 strangely drawn to her ; again I asked, “What can I do for 
 you, my dear?” “Well, said she, “when you spoke of that 
 man who had committed murder this evening, how God for- 
 gave him and blessed his soul, I thought there was a chance 
 
ON IRISH SOIL 
 
 89 
 
 for me. I am a sinner, and you can’t imagine how bad I am. 
 I have been so mean. Do you think God will hear me if I 
 pray to Him? Will He forgive me of all my sins?” I 
 answered, “Yes, all of them. Shall I read you what He 
 Himself says?” “Do, please, my heart is so full. I have 
 no one who cares for me. Mother and Father are both dead. 
 I work in one of the largest stores here. I feel so lonely 
 and forsaken.” “No,” I answered, “never lonely, for the 
 spirit of Christ is with thee.” “St. Matthew xi, 28-30, says, 
 ‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and 
 I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of 
 me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest 
 unto your souls, for My yoke is easy and My burden is 
 light.” “Yes, but do you think that means me?” she asked. 
 Then I turned to John i ii : 16, “God so loved the world that 
 He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth 
 in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. For 
 God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world, 
 but that the world through Him might be saved. And he 
 that believeth on Him is not condemned, but he that be- 
 lieveth not is condemned already because he has not be- 
 lieved in the name of the only begotten son of God. For 
 Jesus is the light of the world, and those who love Him and 
 keep His commandments are walking in the light.” 
 
 All we have to do is to ask God to forgive us of our 
 sins and believe that He will, and it is done. For “accord- 
 ing to your faith so be it unto you,” saith the Lord, “God is 
 a spirit and they that worship Him must worship Him in 
 Spirit and in Truth.” Though you cannot see Him, He is 
 right here listening to all we say. He reads our very 
 thoughts, and knows whether we are sincere or not. 
 
 Isaiah i : 18, “Come now, and let us reason together, 
 saith the Lord. Though our sins be as scarlet, they shall be 
 as white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they 
 shall be as wool.” “Will you believe this? This is for 
 you.” “Oh, I am so troubled,” she said ; “I want to do 
 right. I want to be saved.” “ W ell, my dear, hear what He 
 says to you : St. Matt, v :6, “Blessed are they which do 
 hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be 
 filled.” Now you are hungry to do right, to be saved. He 
 says because you have this desire, you shall be filled.” “Oh, 
 yes,” she said, “I love HIM.” And then I read from St. 
 
90 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Matt, xxi :22, “And all things whatsoever ye shall ask in 
 prayer believing ye shall receive.” We knelt and prayed. 
 The tears were falling as she sobbed and cried aloud, “Lord 
 help me.” I said to her, “He is willing to save you just now. 
 Romans x-8:i4. Do you trust HIM?” “Oh, yes, with 
 all my heart ; and with all my soul and strength. Oh, yes, I 
 do believe. Thank God.” She was sitting on the bed then. 
 The smiles coming after tears reminded me of sunshine 
 when the rain is slackening. 
 
 She had faith in God. The clouds of unbelief had 
 passed away. I exhorted her to pray, to continue praying, 
 and ask God each morn of her life to protect, guard and 
 guide her. She thanked me for the help I had given her. 
 
 The hour came for me to go to the Shankill Mission. 
 She wanted to go with me. As we descended the stairs we 
 found five other girls who wanted to go, and so they joined 
 us. 
 
 I was introduced and spoke from St. John xi. Mary 
 and Martha in their sore trouble, sent to tell Jesus. He 
 came and there was joy in that home that night. The 
 brother who was dead is alive and with them again. Let us 
 tell Jesus all our troubles, He will help us. He knows just 
 what to do if we will only trust Him, love, obey Him, all will 
 be well. Never a night too dark for Him to come; never 
 a road too long. I again sang that very sweet and com- 
 forting song : 
 
 “I must tell Jesus all of my troubles, 
 
 I cannot bear these burdens alone, 
 
 In my distress, He kindly will keep me, 
 
 He ever loves and cares for His own. 
 
 I must tell Jesus, I must tell Jesus, 
 
 I cannot bear these burdens alone, 
 
 I must tell Jesus, I must tell Jesus, 
 
 Jesus can help me, Jesus alone.” 
 
 There is not one of us who has not had some burdens 
 to bear. Some have grown weary of the burden of trying to 
 bear it alone but finally found it too heavy. Brooding over 
 these burdens night after night, then instead of telling it to 
 Jesus and trusting it all to him, they steal away with a pistol 
 in hand, a loud report is heard, a soul hurled into everlasting 
 
ON IRISH SOIL 
 
 91 
 
 misery and woe, forever banished from earth, and worse 
 yet, from God. 
 
 Just now I am thinking of a corpse found floating in 
 a canal not far from my home at New Orleans. It was that of 
 a young girl with long golden hair. She was dragged 
 ashore. Soon the coroner came and examining the corpse, 
 found a note on her person. He read it and the sad story 
 was told: “I am tiled of living. I have been deceived. I 
 was promised marriage but was disappointed. I cannot bear 
 the shame of being - a mother and not a wife. I cannot live 
 with this shame to face the world. I go to meet God. Pray 
 for me.” Too late for prayers when we are dead. There is 
 no repentance beyond the grave. It is true her burden was 
 heavy, her grief might have seemed unbearable, but was 
 not the grace of God sufficient to make even that burden 
 light? Oh, if those burdened souls would only tell it to 
 Jesus ! Are you weary, are you heavy laden? Take all your 
 complaints to the Master. He is ready, He is able, He is 
 willing, He is merciful. Oh, yes, He will take care of His 
 own. 
 
 I have had troubles — heavy ones — I took them to 
 Jesus. He bore them for me. I can sing in the midst of 
 them. Don’t you know He says, “Blessed are they who 
 mourn, for they shall be comforted.” That means that 
 when we tell our troubles to Him and resolve to trust Him. 
 
 I left with the girls for my room. I had them coupled 
 off. The girl who was converted in my room was clinging 
 to me. We were behind. Her soul was happy. She sang 
 as we walked along regardless of the many passers-by: 
 
 I hear Thy welcome voice, 
 
 That calls me, Lord, to Thee, 
 
 For cleansing in Thy precious blood, 
 
 That flowed on Calvary. 
 
 I am coming, Lord, 
 
 Coming now to Thee, 
 
 Wash me, cleanse me in Thy blood, 
 
 That flowed from Calvary. 
 
 What joy comes into the heart of the sinner when the 
 second birth takes place; when they believed that Jesus paid 
 
92 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 it all long ago and they have made a personal application 
 for that faith, love and peace which passeth all human un- 
 derstanding is theirs. 
 
 Do you not remember that mighty gathering at Jeru- 
 salem of Parthians, Arabians, Medes, Mesopotamians, Jews, 
 Egyptians, Elamites, Ethiopians, etc., etc.? How the Apos- 
 tles spoke to them and how attentively they listened? How 
 many of them were baptized after hearing of the sufferings, 
 death and resurrection of the Saviour? They did not wait 
 for a better opportunity. They did not wait to see if they 
 might come to Christ but came at once, believing and re- 
 ceiving the Baptism. Over 3,000 converts were added to 
 the church that day. The disciples preached a clean-cut 
 gospel ; no frills, no trying to please the world of fashion, 
 no working for large salaries to build palaces to live in ; no 
 laying away where moth doth corrupt or thieves break 
 through and steal. They were satisfied. They knew they 
 had a place above not made with human hands but eternal 
 in the heavens. 
 
 How happy is every child of grace, 
 
 Who feels his sins forgiven ; 
 
 This earth, he cried, is not my place, 
 
 I seek a home in heaven. 
 
 A country far from mortal sight, 
 
 Yet, oh, by faith I view, 
 
 A country fair the saints delight, 
 
 A heaven prepared for you. 
 
 Tuesday I visited the Royal Botanic Gardens, which 
 were very pretty, and covered about two acres of ground. 
 
 In the evening I went to Rev. Mr. Montgomery’s Mission 
 Hall again, found him pleading with souls as usual. Every 
 child seemed to love him. Even the saloon-keeper, whose 
 traffic he condemned in the strongest terms, seemed to like 
 and respect this man of God. He preached at his own 
 church, a good mile away, on Sunday evening, and walked 
 to the Mission Hall, as he did not believe in riding on the 
 Sabbath. He took up his text and preached a clear, plain 
 sermon, laboring with any who would remain after service, 
 praying and teaching them the way to Christ, being full of 
 the love of God, patient, kind and loving to all, giving a 
 
ON IRISH SOIL 
 
 93 
 
 cheerful word here and there as he passed through the 
 crowd. Such is the Rev. Mr. Henry Montgomery of Belfast, 
 Ireland. Oh, for more such men to labor in the vineyard of 
 the Lord, and to lead the gospel army along. 
 
 Wednesday I was out sightseeing. I visited the great 
 store of Robinson and Cleaver, fancy linen manufacturers. 
 The ground floor is used as a sales room and general drapery 
 shop. There one can see the women making lace by hand, 
 embroidering handkerchiefs and ladies’ wearing apparel. I 
 went to the top of the building where I had a good view of 
 the city of Belfast, which is certainly worth seeing. On the 
 outskirts of the city can be seen the hills which enclose the 
 city. These hills are covered with wild flowers, which seem 
 to form a most beautiful background to the city of pressed 
 brick and stone buildings. 
 
 I returned to the institute tired out, found a Mr. Vance, 
 of Clorine Garden, awaiting me. He is a wealthy philan- 
 thropist who has three large homes at Bangor-by-the-Sea, 
 about twenty miles from Belfast, where he entertains at 
 the small sum of $1.75 per week any tired holiday-hunting 
 man, woman or child. He came to ask me to go on Thurs- 
 day to visit these homes and deliver addresses. In the 
 meanwhile two ministers had called and as soon as I had 
 shaken hands with Mr. Vance and had seen him to the door, 
 I was called into the secretary’s private parlor to meet them. 
 They were reverend gentlemen, who wished me to speak to 
 their congregations on Sunday. I explained to them with 
 regret that I would be unable to do so as I had an engage- 
 ment in Glasgow for Sunday and my steamer ticket was out 
 on Friday. They offered to buy me another ticket if I would 
 cancel this engagement, but I could not do that. One of 
 the gentlemen turned to the other and asked if it would be 
 right to pray that a fog would rise and prevent the steamer 
 leaving, or worse still, a storm. We all joined in a hearty 
 laugh. They regretted very much my short stay of only a 
 week and asked me to return to them as soon as I could. I 
 said good-bye and just as I was about to ascend the stairs 
 a lady called to ask if I would address a mission she had 
 charge of, on Thursday evening. I, of course, had to refuse 
 this invitation also, as I had two engageemnts to fill that 
 day. The bell rang for supper; I went down. A minister’s 
 wife came to say her husband had sent her to ask if I 
 would speak to his congregation on Friday night. This I 
 
94 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 was again compelled to refuse, as I would leave the city on 
 that evening. At last I was relieved of these many kind- 
 hearted people who did me the honor to wish me to speak 
 for them. 
 
 Thursday we were at the station. Mr. Vance secured 
 our tickets. We got into a first-class carriage, several other 
 gentlemen going along. Mr. Black, a worthy Christian 
 leader of the Belfast Y. M. C. A., wanted to know if I could 
 give them a lecture. I regretted that I could not. Arriving 
 at Bangor we took the only conveyance in sight — the Irish 
 jaunting car. Looking perplexedly at this car, Mr. Vance 
 noticed me and guessed the trouble. “Have you ever rid- 
 den on one before ?” he asked. “No, sir.” “Well,” he laugh- 
 ingly said, “come, don’t be afraid, let me help you up.” He 
 advised me to plant my feet firmly and hold on to the iron 
 rail. No need to tell me this, for I was already holding on 
 with a good grip as if my life depended upon it. 
 
 The driver started off at a good pace and I felt as if I 
 were on a see-saw. Finally we reached the house, a large 
 three-story brick building, high on the hills, facing the sea. 
 The matron kindly showed me around. After this we visited 
 the men and boys’ holiday home, about fifteen minutes walk. 
 This is on the same order as the first. They were to as- 
 semble at the large hall of the girls’ home at half past five 
 when I was to address them. The hour having arrived, 
 Mr. Vance and the matron led the way. The hall was filled. 
 I spoke forty minutes. They seemed favorably impressed 
 and many came forward to shake my hand. 
 
 After supper the man came forward with his jaunting 
 car to take us to the station, where we got our car to Bel- 
 fast. 
 
 I reached the institute just in time to lay off my jacket 
 and go on the rostrum, where there had been placed a lovely 
 bouquet of roses with their inviting odor. Several hymns 
 were sung. After being introduced I selected my hymn, 
 prayed, read a chapter and explained it. Some were moved 
 to tears and remained to be prayed for. This was my 
 last night in Belfast. I could hardly get away to my room, 
 because there were so many girls who wanted to speak to me, 
 or have me write my name in their autograph albums. I never 
 could boast of my penmanship, but, of course, I accommodated 
 as many as could make their way to me. 
 
ON IRISH SOIL 
 
 95 
 
 Friday was nice and clear in the morning but cloudy in 
 the evening and rain came down in torrents. I had letters tq 
 write, my bag to pack, which was indoor work ; hence I was not 
 worried. 
 
 In the meanwhile a letter came from Mr. Buchanan, invit- 
 ing me to his home to spend the day with four other ladies. I 
 answered, accepting and thanking him. As it was still raining 
 and I must leave the institute at three o’clock to catch the 
 steamer at four, I got the superintendent to send a maid in 
 quest of a cab. Finding none, she ordered a jaunting car, 
 which I again mounted, my umbrella in hand to keep off the 
 rain, as these conveyances have no covers. We went off amid 
 a chorus of good-byes. We had ridden about seven squares 
 when I noticed in front an Irish woman with a whip in hand 
 urging on a donkey attached to a little two-wheeled wagon 
 filled with vegetables. We were almost upon them and the 
 donkey had made up his mind to be stubborn, and as quickly as 
 a thought, backed across our path. I realized the gravity of 
 the situation, and prepared myself to fall into a soft spot. 
 When the driver saw just what was coming he wheeled his 
 horse just in time, and I was saved from a mix-up with the 
 vegetables. I looked back when we were two squares off, and 
 still the fat bareheaded Irish woman was arguing with the con- 
 trary animal, which shook its head and seemed bent on turning 
 around in that particular place. 
 
 At last I was aboard the steamer and we were soon on our 
 way. The sea was rough, the spray splashed on deck, but I 
 stuck to it. Many who had gone into the saloon below to 
 escape the water had become seasick. 
 
 After six hours on the Irish Sea we reached our destina- 
 tion. We boarded a train at Ardrossan for Glasgow, which 
 place we reached at eleven o’clock at night. The Misses Gron- 
 beck were there to meet us and what a pleasure it was to meet 
 these dear friends ! They relieved me of my luggage. We 
 walked to the institute, a short distance, where I was expect- 
 ed. Feeling somewhat fatigued, I was glad to get to my 
 room. 
 
 Saturday the Misses Gronbeck came to take me to Kil- 
 leam, the home of Mr. Buchanan. We were at the depot and 
 an hour’s ride brought us to Killearn, a lovely country village, 
 with here and there a pretty grayish stone house with thatched 
 roof, the typical country garden with potatoes, gooseberries, 
 and cabbages. Leaving here, a few minutes’ walk brought us 
 
96 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 to the public road. Large trees with their leafy boughs were 
 lined on either side, casting a cool shade over the road, thus 
 protecting us from the brightly shining sun. Away to the left 
 we saw the great rocky hills rising nearly to the clouds, appar- 
 ently, and a cow standing on the very top, though it seemed 
 hardly possible' that an animal could have climbed such a steep 
 hill. 
 
 We crossed the river, which was spanned by a stone bridge 
 half covered with ivy. The spot was so fascinating we could 
 scarcely tear ourselves away. We stood for quite a while 
 watching the water as it tumbled over the rocks, then wound its 
 way in and out around the steep hills. We turned about to con- 
 tinue our walk to the glen which we saw in the distance. In- 
 stead of following the road which had many turns, we took a 
 short cut across the fields of newly-mown hay. Reaching the 
 entrance of the glen, what a sight greeted our eyes ! How will I 
 find words to describe this most beautiful handiwork of nature? 
 In the middle is seen an amber-colored stream about ten feet 
 in the widest part. On the left is a path, in some places not a 
 foot wide, and rising high above us on either side, one hundred 
 or more feet. A continuous wall of stone covered here and 
 there with liverwort, and a close clinging, short, feathery-like 
 moss, and a few bluebells and yellow mites, and other flowers 
 varying in color followed the path. 
 
 We passed on to the “wishing well” close to the stone wall 
 where we had to walk very near to the large stream to keep 
 from stepping in the well. The well is round and seems not 
 more than a foot in depth from the crown to the white rocky 
 bottom. Having a cup, our party of five drank again and 
 again of this cool, clear, sparkling water, but it was just as 
 full when we stopped as when we began. 
 
 We passed on around the curve of a roughly hollowed-out 
 rocky wall, octagon-shaped, about twelve feet wide. Its wall 
 and ceiling are richly tinted and overhead on the brow of the 
 hill are trees with their bright green foliage meeting across the 
 opening, now and then allowing rays of sun to peer faintly 
 through. The wind, like a living thing, seemed to whisper 
 through their boughs. My friends and I were so filled with 
 the solemn beauty of the surroundings that we were tempted to 
 consult our muse, with the following results : 
 
ON IRISH SOIL 
 
 97 
 
 “In Finnick’s Glen, sequestered dell, 
 
 Where wild flowers in profusion bloom, 
 
 I stood beside the ‘wishing well,’ 
 
 One lovely autumn afternoon. 
 
 The sight which met my raptured gaze, 
 
 And fixed itself upon my brain, 
 
 Shall never be by time erased, 
 
 Although I never visit it again. 
 
 A rock scooped out by hands unseen, 
 
 Stands like a temple, grand and old, 
 
 The walls are hung with emerald green, 
 Which autumn’s breath will soon turn gold. 
 The roof with splendor all its own, 
 Unconsciously attracts the eye, 
 
 And greater beauty still is shown 
 To all who will but venture nigh. 
 
 Rich shades of brown and sombre gray, 
 With red and amber all unite, 
 
 Affording a unique display 
 Of varied colors dark and bright. 
 
 Huge pieces of that hallowed rock, 
 
 With liverwort are covered o’er, 
 
 These form the seats which rest upon 
 The thick moss carpet on the floor. 
 
 No sound of preacher’s voice is heard; 
 
 ’Tis nature speaks to all who hear, 
 Through rippling brooklet, tree and bird, 
 Just lend her an attentive ear. 
 
 I’ll never pass this way again, 
 
 To slake the thirst of flower and tree; 
 
 So let me seize the moments when 
 A help to others I may be. 
 
 A bird up in the shady tree, 
 
 In sweetest dulcet tones did raise 
 A song of simple melody, 
 
 To thrill out its Creator’s praise. 
 
 Praise for a father's tender care; 
 
 Praise for the spreading oak tree’s shade ; 
 Praise for the beauty everywhere ; 
 
 Praise for all this beauty He made. 
 
98 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 The humble lichen and the fern 
 Have each a mission to fulfill ; 
 
 In their own sphere could we but learn 
 To do so quietly God’s will. 
 
 A little blue-eyed, smiling flower 
 Looked up from a shady spot, 
 
 With a message sweet from her bower; 
 
 God says through me, “forget-me-not.” 
 
 “What say you, little sparkling well, 
 
 With water overflowing so?” 
 
 “Oh, I’ve been here for centuries, 
 
 And I delight to overflow. 
 
 I live for others’ happiness, 
 
 And doing this I find my own ; 
 
 God wishes me to live for this, 
 
 Inside my little walls of stone.” 
 
 The wind sent through the trees a sigh, 
 
 And sadly breathed a requiem, 
 
 O’er these sweet flowers, which so soon shall die, 
 
 And sleep the cold dark earth within. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, thou brooklet clear, 
 
 Thou temple rock and sparkling well ; 
 
 Birds, trees, and flowers dear, 
 
 In Killearn in Finnick’s Glen, farewell.” 
 
 After a stroll through the village, which was a mile from 
 the Glen, we returned to the station where we got our car to 
 Glasgow. 
 
 Sunday was a fair day, so I visited the mission and spoke 
 at Victoria Hall at eleven o’clock to a splendid audience of 
 about 400 people. I spoke only fifteen minutes and then bade 
 these kind Scotch friends good-bye. 
 
 Sunday we had a song and prayer service at the institute. 
 They knew I was to leave before another Sunday, so I had to 
 do all the singing. 
 
 Monday morning I got my belongings together, wrote a 
 number of letters home, one to The Item, which took much of 
 my time. 
 
 Tuesday I took tea with some of my friends, then a last 
 look at Glasgow’s shops. 
 
IN LONDON AND PARIS 
 
 99 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN LONDON AND PARIS. 
 
 Wednesday I boarded a train for London. We arrived at 
 Victoria Station at nine o’clock at night and as my friend, Miss 
 Firth, lived some distance from London, I had a half-hour’s 
 ride by the underground train and another half by the surface 
 train. Finally, I reached her home. She was glad to see me 
 but scolded me because I did not write, telling her what hour I 
 would arrive so that they could meet me ; for they feared I 
 might get lost coming for the first time to the largest city in the 
 world. 
 
 I spent Thursday reading and writing letters, one to my 
 friend, Helen Noble, who was still urging me to come on to 
 Paris. After a week’s rest in London I left for Paris, France. 
 After a little tossing at the docks we were off for the continent. 
 I was feeling drowsy and went to the ladies’ cabin for rest. I 
 found three deep lines of shelves known as berths. The wall 
 was covered with velvet cushions. I was assigned to one of 
 these shelves by the stewardess. Being the top shelf I didn’t 
 care much for it, so she condescended to give me a lower one. 
 When we had slept about three hours the captain and purser 
 came to collect our tickets, then left us to our uninterrupted 
 slumber. In a little while we heard the boat whistle for 
 Dieppe. We scrambled on deck, bags in hand, ready to go 
 ashore. We were soon in the searching room, our bags exam- 
 ined and released, and on the cars ready to start for Paris. 
 The train started, stopped, started, stopped again and continued 
 this nearly all the way to Paris. I was told by a gentleman 
 that the guard, who sometimes forgets his lunch, simply stops 
 the train short, keeps it standing for a quarter of an hour until 
 he has taken his lunch at some wayside creamery. He picks 
 his teeth awhile, then with a grunt of satisfaction boards the 
 train, blows the whistle and pulls out. We should have ar- 
 rived at Gare St. Lazare Station according to schedule at 7:15 
 a. m., but it pleased our crew to bring us in at eleven a. m. 
 
 My friends were awaiting me. We took a cab for Rue de 
 Berrie, paying one franc and fifty centimes. As soon as I was 
 settled in my room I got my money and began to exchange the 
 English money for French. When I left America I had 
 changed some money at the Philadelphia docks into English 
 money, with which at times, I would amuse myself counting it 
 
100 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 over and over, feeling perfectly sure I had it all right, but when 
 I went shopping at Edinburgh the clerk informed me that the 
 waterproof which I desired to purchase was twenty-four shil- 
 lings nine pence ha’penny. I was completely dazed and all my 
 knowledge of the table of English money had flown. Luckily 
 for me my hostess, Miss Hog, helped me out. 
 
 For example : A guinea or sovereign and four shillings 
 or six-pence and a tri-penny bit and nine-pence, all together 
 in American money would be six dollars and six cents. So I 
 went home and made up my mind to get the money all straight- 
 ened out. I had it all right now and could count it as quickly 
 as anyone else. I had a handful of French money — five cen- 
 times, one sou, twenty centimes, two sou. One piece, fifty 
 centimes, is about the size of a ten-cent piece in American 
 money; a franc, or ioo centimes, is a handful of coppers, 
 amounting to only twenty cents in our money; then the two- 
 franc pieces — only forty cents — are about the size of an Ameri- 
 can half-dollar. 
 
 At last I had mastered it. I did not go out Saturday but 
 took a much-needed rest to be ready for Sunday. I went to an 
 American church just in the block near me. All the seats were 
 taken, but I enjoyed the service. In the evening we entertained 
 these visitors: Mr. Calloway, in charge of the Negro Educa- 
 tional Exhibit at the Exposition; Mr. Herndon, of Atlanta, 
 Ga. ; Mr. Lewis and Mr. Franklin, of New Orleans, La., and 
 Miss Warrick, of Philadelphia, who was studying sculpture in 
 Paris. The evening was pleasantly spent, and after chatting a 
 little while we retired to rest. 
 
 Monday I spent the day at the Exposition, having a com- 
 plimentary ticket. It is useless for me to attempt any descrip- 
 tion of the great Exposition. However,. I must make some 
 mention of the things which attracted my attention most. 
 
 The electric illumination was most magnificent, especially 
 that of the Eiffel Tower, which was a blaze of light. It is the 
 highest structure in Paris ; indeed, it is said to be the highest 
 in the world made by human hands. The River Seine looks 
 very pretty, lined on either side by the many buildings all aglow 
 with the reflections from the numerous colored lights. With 
 the steam tugs plying up and down the water, crowded with 
 merry pleasure-seekers, it would seem like a dream but for the 
 noisy babble and the band playing in the Trocadero. It was 
 late and my eyes were tired. I had seen enough for the day. 
 
IN LONDON AND PARIS 
 
 101 
 
 Tuesday we took in some of the sights of Paris, beginning 
 with the large stores, then to the Latin quarter where we were 
 to spend the evening and have supper in Miss Warrick’s studio 
 —a lovely artistic little den. With music and tea the time soon 
 passed. Our pleasant company parted and another day had 
 flown. 
 
 Wednesday, we spent at the Exposition again, visiting the 
 Beaux Arts, with the lifelike pictures, and beautiful statuary. 
 It is difficult to tell which was the best. We wandered from 
 building to building, viewing here and there the marvelous skill 
 and genius of the men and women of to-day. Once we stopped 
 to see them manufacture liquid air, and I asked my Father in 
 Heaven, “What next?” We remained till nine o’clock at night 
 to see the largest cinematograph in the world in the Salle de 
 Fete where thousands were gathered and seated to witness it. 
 It was as amusing as it was beautiful to see these lifelike pic- 
 tures of people moving along. This being over, we departed 
 for home. 
 
 Thursday we decided to remain indoors for recuperation 
 and to write, having tired ourselves out the day before. 
 
 Friday we were off to the Exposition again. We first vis- 
 ited the Palace of Illusions, then the Petit Palais, after which 
 we spent the greater part of the morning in Mr. Calloway’s de- 
 partment observing the Negro exhibit, of which we felt justly 
 proud, for it equaled any of the . Saxon race. The Negro must 
 be given credit for having made such wonderful strides toward 
 the highest type of Christian civilization, to say nothing of his 
 progress in art, literature, science, etc., and all in a little more 
 than a quarter of a century. If one could have looked upon 
 the wonderful productions of this people at the Paris Exposi- 
 tion I believe he would hardly ask himself the question, “Where 
 will the Negro rank in the great progress of humanity at the 
 close of the twentieth century?” Father Time alone can an- 
 swer. But permit me to say. although kept down by oppression 
 and everything which tends to discourage, he will take his 
 place, one day, among the greatest races of the world. 
 
 I have the picture of Tuskegee’s great industrial institute 
 in my mind and I look back to see whence it came. I see Book- 
 er T. Washington coming through hard trials and many cares, 
 coming to take his place and to lead his people out of the wil- 
 derness of ignorance. 
 
102 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Tuskegee, thou art as a light upon a high hill whose rays 
 are reflected throughout the universe. May the sunshine of thy 
 glory continue to dawn on benighted Africa. 
 
 We visited the Louvre, the National Art Gallery of France. 
 It is a very large stone structure, the pride of the city and na- 
 tion. It has a most beautiful and rare collection of paintings 
 and sculpture. One could spend days looking at these crea- 
 tions of man’s brain and marvel at his ingenuity, feeling sure 
 that God has made him next to Himself. Here we see the 
 original statue of the much-praised Venus de Milo. My freind 
 Helen knew my time was short, so we left here for the Pan- 
 theon. 
 
 Here, too, could be seen the paintings of H. O. Tanner, 
 one of the sons of Africa, his “Raising of Lazarus,” which 
 was purchased by the French Republic and hung in their 
 museum, and his “Daniel in the Lion’s Den.” For these he 
 received the Grand Prix in the Exposition. 
 
 The Pantheon has many underground cellars, we are told 
 170 crypts or burial places. The building is very old, having 
 gone through several wars, and it is still strong and intact. 
 Here lie Voltaire, Victor Hugo, John J. Rousseau, President 
 Carnot, Brethelot, and many others whose lives help to make 
 the history of France. Senfleu, the architect who furnished 
 the model for this building, killed himself by jumping from the 
 top to the ground because the building did not present the im- 
 posing picture he expected it would. He sleeps here among 
 the other noted characters. 
 
 Saturday, we visited the tomb of the great Napoleon, which 
 is a massive structure, facing the river Seine, and as we leaned 
 over the rail and gazed upon the raised marble base supporting 
 the casket that holds the dust of the world’s greatest general, 
 the thought came to me, how much more worthily this man 
 could have employed his dauntless courage and determination! 
 Here he lies, or what is left of the once great character, in deep 
 slumber, in everlasting sleep, the sleep that must come to all 
 whether he be rich or poor, master or servant, king or serf. 
 
 The lofty dome overhead is artistically painted by masters 
 long since dead. The long octagon-shaped stained glass win- 
 dows let in a peculiar light which fell full upon a cross bearing 
 the image of our Saviour. This cross stands directly over the 
 entrance to the crypt, behind which is the exit from the church 
 whose high carved a.rched ceiling is decorated with the many 
 
IN LONDON AND PARIS 
 
 103 
 
 flags Napoleon won in battles. He has his wish; before dying 
 he said: “Let my ashes rest on the banks of the Seine among 
 the people I so much loved.” 
 
 We left here to go to the morgue. It is strange what a 
 peculiar fascination the horrible has for some. While one look 
 is more than enough for me others stand and gaze long at these 
 gruesome sights of silent ones lying there staring at the ceiling 
 with sightless eyes, and frozen stiff, awaiting identification, or 
 burial at the city’s expense. Having enough of this we left on 
 one of the boats to go down the river Seine, which wends its 
 way through the city. We passed through the Exposition 
 grounds to the suburbs where there were many pretty little 
 villas. The boat stopped at St. Cloud, where we decided to 
 get off and see some of the pretty places that the royalty of 
 France delighted in building. 
 
 Here the German army had a camp of 80,000 men while 
 besieging Paris. There are many monuments of these officers 
 to be seen at this place. Here also are the fine hunting grounds 
 of Napoleon and his castle, together with the castles of Zola, 
 Gambetta, and Worth, the well-known man-milliner who has 
 dressed many of the world’s great women. The first sight 
 which presented itself was a French wedding among the middle 
 class. There were the bride and groom, the father, the mother, 
 and other members of the family, all seated at tables on the 
 sidewalk having their dinner, which consisted of more drink 
 than food. This being over they arose, the bride and groom 
 leading the way, the bridesmaid and best man following, then 
 the family, all walking in the middle of the red-gravelled street. 
 The bride with her white silk train thrown over her arm and 
 her veil tied around her waist, did not seem to think of her 
 white slippers as she fondly leaned on her husband’s arm. We 
 joined in the procession and followed this happy, cheerful party 
 to one of the gardens. But as we were hungry we soon re- 
 traced our steps to the restaurant which we had just passed. 
 We were hailed by a young girl who invited us to stop at her 
 table, which we did. The menu was written in English on a 
 large blackboard which hung on a tree near the table, hence we 
 had no trouble in selecting what we wanted to eat. We seated 
 ourselves and gave our order to the waiter, who brought us a 
 loaf of bread about a yard long and about two inches wide, then 
 our milk, ham and eggs. We ate our light supper , enjoying 
 much the French fried eggs. We called for our bill and got it, 
 but were surprised at the exorbitant price, scarcely believing we 
 
104 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 saw aright. But it was written quite plainly, 5 francs 50 cen- 
 times for three persons. My friend, Mrs. Noble, who speaks 
 French, called the waiter and asked him to explain. He did. 
 Ham and eggs for three persons, 75 centimes each; milk for 
 three persons, 30 centimes per glass ; bread, 30 centimes per 
 loaf; in like manner knife and fork so many centimes; table- 
 cloth and napkins so many centimes, and last the waiter’s pour- 
 boire (tip). We quickly agreed and put 4 francs on the table 
 and walked away while the waiter stood making many gestures 
 and talking loudly. We hurried to our boat, glad to shake the 
 dust of St. Cloud from our feet. 
 
 The ride back was delightful. As we approached the Ex- 
 position ground the lights from the many buildings were reflect- 
 ed again and again in the water. The Eiffel Tower sent out a 
 greater light than all with its myriads of electric globes, purple 
 and red. We left here to take a ride on the Champs Elysee 
 and the boulevards, where we saw the cafes all aglow with 
 lights and the many tables on the sidewalks, nearly all occupied 
 with patrons busy satisfying themselves with the essentials of 
 life. Then we visited the Bastile. We walked over this his- 
 toric spot, and after viewing the high statue erected in the cen- 
 ter we strolled leisurely to our abode. 
 
 Sunday we visited some of the Protestant churches, saw 
 many in these, but few in the other churches. After attending 
 early mass we went out to see how France really spends her 
 Sunday. Therefore I must be pardoned for looking upon the 
 balance of the day as I would a day in the week. My friend 
 Helen advised that we go to Versailles first. We boarded a 
 train, and after an hour’s ride and a half-hour’s walk we reach- 
 ed Versailles. The streets were very wide and well shaded 
 with trees which seemed to meet, presenting a picturesque view. 
 We reached the gates of the palace where we bought a book of 
 views for fifty centimes. We entered the large courtyard lead- 
 ing to the palace which was built in the shape of the letter “T.” 
 We soon passed around it and out through the most magnificent 
 park I had ever seen, with its long avenues of trees and its life 
 statues in white marble. Just in front was a minature laW 
 whose center was ornamented by a large statue of Neptune 
 driving a span of horses. The sides of this lake as far as J, 
 could see were lined with what looked like gray marble. All 
 the avenues seemed to terminate in the center of this palace 
 ground. As you looked up each avenue you caught a gleam of 
 some of the large statues. Among the statues here and there 
 
IN LONDON AND PARIS 
 
 105 
 
 were seats placed in the large green, evenly-kept spaces. Thera 
 was no such sign to greet the eye as “Keep off the grass.” The 
 long benches on their green carpet were rather inviting and one 
 was easily persuaded to stop awhile. We were unable to resist 
 the temptation so we selected a place for rest where we could 
 eat our luncheon. This proved to be cool and shady and thick- 
 ly surrounded with shrubbery which shut us from sight. We 
 then took a tour through the palace a quarter of a mile in 
 length. It has 1,800 rooms and 50 galleries. If all the pictures 
 in these rooms were placed side by side they would form a line 
 seven miles long. On hearing this we decided not to attempt 
 to see them all. We were stopped at the entrance to the art 
 gallery by the guard, who demanded our parasols for the keep- 
 ing of which he charged 25 centimes. There were rooms full 
 of war pictures. Here we saw a picture of George Washing- 
 ton and Lafayette commanding the battle of Yorktown. How 
 the French glory in war ! The walls of the room of Louis 
 XYI were adorned with the finest tapestry. The bed with its> 
 rich silk draperies, at the head of which stood his bust, was 
 beautiful almost beyond description. The room of his wife, a 
 much smaller apartment, had scarcely any furniture, only here 
 and there a settee to rest upon. We entered the saloon of mir- 
 rors which reached from the floor to the ceiling. The chande- 
 liers pendant from the ceiling were decorated with cut-glass. 
 There were only a few marble busts in this room. From here 
 we went to the statuary department. As is the case in every 
 place in France, nude pictures are to be seen in abundance. We 
 went to another long corridor where is found the statue o* 
 Catherine de Medici, and the figures of other persons belong- 
 ing to the French nobility; also those of bishops and cardinals. 
 
 We then wended our way a mile to the further end of the 
 palace grounds, to the Petit Trianon, built by Louis XIV for 
 the lady whom he desired to honor. The rooms were finely 
 finished and adorned with quaint, lovely vases, old clocks of 
 great value. The bed stood just as it did in the days of its fair 
 occupant. From the window one has a view of a pretty gar- 
 den. Far beyond, almost hidden from view is another statue 
 standing in the center of the garden. The sight is so grand 
 one really wonders if it isn’t a dream. Well may the French 
 say, “La Belle France.” It also was in this room that Napoleon 
 was divorced from the unhappy Josephine. The room is of 
 fine marble. In another room is Napoleon’s billiard table. 
 Next to the room of Josephine is the dining room of Marie 
 
106 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Antoinette, and the reception room of the Duke of Orleans. It 
 has the finest of gilt furniture and paintings of the past mon- 
 archs of France. Here also is the bedroom beautifully fur- 
 nished which was used by Queen Victoria when on a visit to 
 France. We next visited the carriage-house and saw the car- 
 riage Napoleon used, which cost $200,000. We were told there 
 are fifty-seven fountains in the park and three hundred and 
 sixty statues. On the staircase is seen marks of the conflict 
 which ensued when Marie Antoinette tried to escape from the 
 mob during the Reign of Terror and the brave Swiss guards 
 gave their lives to save her. 
 
 Everywhere at Versailles one sees signs of reckless ex- 
 travagance. It must have required an army of servants to look 
 after it all. Wage-earners in France get little for their labor. 
 I saw men working on the railroads for two francs a day, forty 
 cents in American money, and the young women doing house- 
 work at seventy-five centimes a day, fifteen cents in American 
 money. Still nearly all manage to save something and have a 
 bank account. The French are a thrifty people. Their prin- 
 cipal saying is, “Spend less than you get.” The poorest buy 
 their government bonds, called rentes. A French rente can be 
 purchased for ten francs, $2.00 in American money. They 
 save these rentes without even spending the income therefrom, 
 which is also saved, and the coupon is placed in the bank to 
 make up more money at compound interest. If trouble comes 
 and they need the money, the bank they bought the bond from 
 will advance them money on their bonds as though it were real 
 estate. Have money and you have friends and power. 
 
 We left this house where the nobility was wont to hold 
 forth and walked down one of the broad avenues to the lake 
 where there was a boat race in progress, which hundreds had 
 gathered to witness. Soon the fountains in different parts of 
 the grounds began to play, each sending up streams of water, 
 some a hundred feet high. 
 
 We left for the train. People had been coming out all day 
 in great trainloads and nearly everyone was rushing to get back 
 to Paris. All wanted to get back on the same train, so we ran 
 nearly a quarter of a mile to get a seat. We returned to the 
 city in a train that appeared to be a half-mile in length. We 
 went to the Exposition and found as many, if not more than at 
 Versailles. I was told by those who are supposed to know, 
 that there were similar crowds at St. Cloud, but scarcely anyone 
 at church. Paris has no time for this. 
 
IN LONDON AND PARIS 
 
 107 
 
 The grand churches of stone with their many spires reach- 
 ing up to the clouds as it seems, with their silver and gold altar 
 decorations, their lovely, almost priceless stained windows, their 
 many solid locked chests containing priceless relics of the dead 
 saints, are simply for show, and when mass is said the whole 
 affair seems like a play, something that must be done and gotten 
 through with in order to attend to the matters of greater im- 
 portance. 
 
 On visiting the Notre Dame one is met at the door by a 
 beggar with outstretched hand imploring help. As you enter, 
 a sister of charity is kneeling on a chair with a cup which is 
 thrust at you. A little further on another has candles to sell, 
 so that you can leave a light in the church and a prayer for some 
 departed loved one whose soul may thus be lighted toward 
 heaven. After you have run this gauntlet of money gatherers 
 you meet the guide who wants you to pay him fifty centimes 
 to show you to the crown of thorns said to have been worn by 
 our Saviour; also a coat worn by St. Paul, and the dress in 
 which Marie Antoinette was beheaded. These are all stored in 
 a strong box in an alcove of the church. Should you ascend 
 the winding stair you must pay another fifty centimes. All this 
 is in the house of the Lord. Here, as everywhere else one turns, 
 couples are seen making love to each other, paying no attention 
 to visitors. No crowd is too large to prevent them from kiss- 
 ing each other when they feel so disposed. In the Exposition 
 grounds they are seen sitting on the benches in full glare of the 
 electric lights with their arms around each other billing and coo- 
 ing. Should you become disgusted at their lack of modesty and 
 try to escape from witnessing their caressing or hearing words 
 of endearment (in soft tones of French) you will simply run 
 upon another couple sitting with arms around each other or 
 strolling along in front of you. Suddenly they stop with an 
 “Ah, ma chere amie,” and then kiss, kiss, kiss. You must 
 walk around if you would not fall over them. These French 
 people seem to love above all else and they sacrifice every- 
 thing on this altar, thinking they do well for “la grande pas- 
 sion,” as they call it. 
 
 Paris is magnificent in respect to its arts, scenery and 
 cleanliness ; but as to its morals, I think it a Sodom and Go- 
 morrah. It seems to me God will not suffer it to continue in 
 this way. Of course there are some noble families with very 
 high morals. These never allow their daughters to go any- 
 
108 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 where, even in daylight, without a chaperone, and they are 
 right. 
 
 I am wondering why the Salvation Army has not stormed 
 this place long ago. There are many French people among the 
 Protestant ministry. Here is a field where there are compara- 
 tively no laborers and the harvest truly great. The Magdaline 
 and all the other churches dedicated to the services of our Lord 
 ought to be filled to overflowing with those who earnestly seek 
 to worship him. I do not mean that any particular denomina- 
 tion should be used to spread the gospel, as there is no such 
 thing with God as a denomination. I do mean that more 
 earnest and sincere efforts should be put forth for the enlarge- 
 ment of the Kingdom of God. We are all laboring for the ad- 
 vancement of His Kingdom, all fighting for the same cause. 
 Verily, there is a heaven, and only those who keep His com- 
 mandments and are pure in heart shall see His face and be ad- 
 mitted into the everlasting paradise. I do not object to the 
 many denominations ; perhaps it is better so, for those who 
 are not satisfied with one have scores of others from which 
 to select. 
 
 ’Tis true, sadly true, that many of the leaders who claim 
 that Christ called them to lead His people and feed His sheep, 
 are men who practice quite another life from that which they 
 preach. Indeed I have known, personally, two ministers of the 
 gospel who seduced young girls living under the same roof with 
 them and their families. One of these girls died in the hospital 
 while in maternity, the other came out with the living evidence 
 to care for. The wife left this inhuman wretch who claimed 
 to have been a representative of Christ, took the girl back and 
 succeeded in getting a friend to adopt the child. Her eyes were 
 streaming with tears as she said to me : “I could not see the 
 baby before me as a reminder of my husband’s fall, and my 
 niece’s shame. I suffered enough and I am asking God to help 
 me forget this bitter, shameful period of my life and to help me 
 mourn him as dead rather than one who is alive.” 
 
 Oh, the heartaches of this life because of humanity’s un- 
 faithfulness to humanity, and worse than all, to God. My 
 brother, God wants you to practice what you preach, to be pure 
 in heart and to preach that gospel which is pleasing in His sight. 
 Oh, Judas, thou art still alive and for a moment of sensual 
 pleasure, a mess of pottage or a bag of silver or gold, you will 
 crucify the Lord afresh. Think of it, a Catholic priest forget- 
 ting that he was a disciple of Christ, a representative of God, 
 
IN LONDON AND PARIS 
 
 109 
 
 leading a trusting, innocent girl from the path of virtue and 
 when she could hide her shame no longer, took her to a certain 
 house where she was never seen to come out again. A cry as 
 to her whereabouts was raised. She was traced to this place, 
 the woman in charge confessed, implicating the parish priest, 
 who heard and fled to parts unknown. The cellar of the house 
 was searched and the dead body of the girl found, showing 
 marks of foul play. The woman was arrested, tried, found 
 guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment in the state peniten- 
 tiary. The priest was never captured. Shame, oh, blushing 
 shame ! One a Protestant, the other a Catholic, claiming to be 
 sent from God to represent Him in His glory. What poor am- 
 bassadors of a righteous King ! 
 
 The man who feels himself called to be in the Christian 
 army ought to ask himself these questions: “Can I overcome 
 the three great evils — wine, women and money?” And when 
 he has prayerfully searched himself, if he is not quite sure he 
 can, he had better give up and pursue some other avocation in 
 life, for he may rest assured Delilah is not dead. She has her 
 daughters by the scores, ever ready to deliver him to the Philis- 
 tines who are waiting at every church door. I have seen a De- 
 lilah enter the home of a minister when his wife was out of the 
 city. The gossipers took notice ; it was whispered from one to 
 another that Delilah has money, spending it freely, buys the 
 minister’s clothes. Delilah made no secret now of her relations 
 to him. Finally she heard of this weak man visiting the house 
 of some woman whom she did not like. She met her rival, 
 words followed, then a hair-pulling. Both were arrested and 
 their troubles aired in court. The minister had to vacate his 
 charge and leave with his heartbroken wife for some other place 
 to try life over again. His poor wife loved him and she had 
 to stay with him, for he was the father of her children. She 
 said : “I wedded him for better or for worse, until death do us 
 part.” He demands of her a white life; like Caesar’s wife, she 
 must be above reproach ; when indeed there should be a white 
 life for both, bound in holy matrimony to work for God. 
 
 Why cannot the disciples of to-day follow the Lord’s di- 
 rections sent to John’s father, Zachariah, as to how he was to 
 rear John in order that he might give God acceptable service. 
 The angel Gabriel brought the same message straight from God. 
 He said he wanted lips clean, free from strong drink, in order 
 that he might be great in the sight of the Lord, and prepare the 
 people for His coming. His coming to us again is not far off, 
 
no 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 for the Jews are going back to Jerusalem to welcome Him. 
 What a surprise when He comes to the drunken, licentious, 
 thieving, money-hunting, self-called disciples ! What surprise 
 will be pictured on their faces when he says : “I know you not, 
 ye workers of iniquity, who sat in the high places, who loved 
 high-sounding salutations, ye who borrowed from the widow 
 her last mite, left her in suffering and want, ye who betrayed 
 the innocent, trusting young girls who came to look to you to 
 seek the way of salvation and light, ye who are fathers of ille- 
 gitimate children ; ye who have coveted your brother’s wife ; 
 ye who have made my house a den of thieves ; — away with you 
 to a devil’s hell ; away with you, I know you not ; you have dis- 
 honored me in name; you have wrought great ills. Ah, it is 
 well my book, the Bible, was in reach of the people, or they, 
 thinking you were my true messenger, might have followed you. 
 Could you not have stood by me like Latimer or Ridley, or the 
 weak woman, Ann Askew, who were tortured at the stake be- 
 cause they would be true to me during the dawn of Protestant- 
 ism in England where many martyrs fell? Could you not have 
 been a Livingstone, a Richard Allen and the many black mar- 
 tyrs who gave their lives in my name during the reign of slav- 
 ery? 
 
 Ye weak, vascillating creature, ye have saved you life by 
 catering to the flesh. You shall lose your souls although you 
 have gained the world. Ye have given my house to the trick- 
 sters, magicians, soothsayers, lovers of amusement and the 
 devil is happy when you thus dishonor me. Could you not 
 leave the house dedicated to me free from such things? Was 
 not the outside world large enough? My work can and must 
 be carried on without the devil’s help. I am rich in houses and 
 lands, in silver and gold. The world is mine and the fullness 
 thereof. Hadst thou asked of me and trusted me I would have 
 sent thee aid for all thy needs. (Luke 24:12). “Consider the 
 ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, while neither have store- 
 houses nor barns, and God feedeth them. How much more are 
 ye better than the fowls? And which of you with taking 
 thought can add to his stature one cubit? If ye then be not 
 able to do that thing which is least, why take ye thought for the 
 rest ? Consider the lilies how they grow ; they toil not and yet 
 I say unto you that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed 
 like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which is to- 
 day in the field, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, how much 
 more will he clothe you, oh, ye of little faith?” What! Would 
 
IN LONDON AND PARIS 
 
 111 
 
 ye make excuses? I will not have them. (John 14: 14-15). 
 “If ye shall ask anything in my name, I will do it.” “If ye 
 love me, keep my commandments.” Is that not plain? Are 
 not those assurances enough to save ten thousand times ten 
 thousand worlds like ours? Are not His rich promises suffi- 
 cient to save the world ? Ought we not to trust Him, love Him 
 and keep His commandments? Let the pew follow the minis- 
 ters as long as they walk in the righteousness of Christ, and 
 when they stop to cater to the world, let us pass them by. Keep 
 the narrow path that leads to Christ. 
 
 “Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits 
 whether they are of God, because many false prophets have 
 gone out into the world (I John 4: 1).” Thank God for the 
 blessed Bible. Read the views of some of the ablest men on 
 that matchless book that has stood the test of ages. It makes 
 good reading in this day of many false prophets. “In this 
 book.” said Ewald to Dean Stanley, “is all the wisdom of the 
 world." “That book,” said Andrew Jackson, as he lay on his 
 deathbed, “is the rock on which our Republic rests.” “Bring 
 me the Book” said Walter Scott when about to die. “What 
 book?" asked Lockhart. “The Book, the Bible, there is only 
 one.” Said the great chemist Farraday: “Why will people go 
 astray when they have this blessed book to guide them?” “If 
 we be ignorant,” say the translators of 1611, “the scriptures 
 will instruct us: if out of the way, they will bring us home; if 
 out of order, they will reform us. If in heaviness they will 
 comfort us: if dull, quicken us; if cold, inflame us.” Heine, 
 the infidel, said : “What a book ! Vast and wide as the world 
 rooted in the abysses of creation, towering up behind the blue 
 secrets of heaven. Sunrise and sunset, promise and fulfill- 
 ment. birth and death, the whole drama of humanity, all in 
 this book.” 
 
 The way is so plain that none need err. Thank God for 
 the ministers who are striving to walk in His likeness and keep 
 His commandments. Thank God for the marked improve- 
 ments along all lines. Indeed, our race more than any other, 
 perhaps, needs a cleaner ministry, a purer ministry. If we 
 would better the moral condition of our people we must appeal 
 to the ministry to forward, march and charge with all their 
 might. 
 
 At last I am to leave Paris and go back to London. I 
 have seen the principal sights and am glad to get back where 
 one cannot witness such display of immorality. The English 
 
112 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 Channel, I am told, is unusually rough ; nearly all were seasick 
 on board. I was truly glad when I reached shore and bade 
 farewell to the steamer “Rouen,” and took the train at New 
 Haven for Clapham Junction, changed cars there for Streatham 
 Hill, London. At last I was in my room, telling Misses Firth 
 and Longfield my experience during my visit to France. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SIGHTSEEING IN LONDON. 
 
 In my absence the Misses Firth and Lonfield had been 
 planning trips for me. I was to go to Westminster Abbey. In 
 the morning we started: fifty-five minutes’ ride on the train, 
 then a walk over Westminster bridge which spans the muddy 
 River Thames, and we reached the House of Parliament. We 
 were admitted and as we climbed the steps the guard eyed my 
 silk handbag suspiciously. Finally he approached and asked 
 me to open it. I inquired somewhat indignantly, “For what?” 
 He said he wanted to look into it. My friend laughed at me, 
 saying that it was the custom. I answered: “If they have lost 
 anything I have not found it.” Anyway, I opened the bag. He 
 peeped in and seeming to be satisfied he passed us in. My 
 friend explained that the reason for this was that a dynamite 
 fiend once entered with his machine without anyone’s knowl- 
 edge. It exploded and demolished a magnificent window which 
 cost thousands of dollars. 
 
 We were in the robing rooms, then passed into the corri- 
 dors that led to the House of Commons and the House of 
 Lords. 
 
 What lovely pictures line the walls, especially the larger 
 ones of the covenanters ! How beautiful is the light shining 
 upon the faces of the devout women as they kneel on the shore 
 watching the departing boats bound for the new world, Am- 
 erica ! After viewing the pictures of England’s dead kings and 
 queens we descended the steps to see Westminster Abbey, the 
 great historic structure which the world delights to visit and 
 to write of. 
 
 We crossed the street and found our way with other vis- 
 itors to the center of the sacred edifice, then to the poet’s cor- 
 ner where nearly every nationality is represented. To reach 
 here we had walked over the resting place of Gladstone, Eng- 
 land’s Grand Old Man, whose wife is lying by his side under 
 the floor of the Abbey. The tombs of the kings and nobility could 
 
SIGHTSEEING IN LONDON 
 
 113 
 
 be seen, the guide charging sixpence to show us through this 
 part of the Abbey. We paused a while at each tomb to find 
 out the name of the silent occupant, the points of interest or 
 what important part each played in the world’s drama. 
 Prominent among them are the tombs of Mary Queen of 
 Scots, and her mother-in-law. Not far away is what is left 
 of the cruel Richard III ; and a few steps away the tomb of 
 the two little princes he murdered in the tower. All are si- 
 lently asleep here in the famous old Abbey, together with the 
 brave general who fought in war and won fame and lands 
 for England. 
 
 We next saw the coronation chair. Then we went out to 
 another part of the Abbey where we paused before the large 
 statue of the great anti-slavery agitator, William Wilberforce, 
 who fought so hard in the House of Commons the battle for 
 freedom and by a life of persistent struggle and untiring perse- 
 verance succeeded in stopping the infamous traffic in human 
 flesh in the British Isles. 'Tis true he was vilified and abused 
 as are many individuals who champion a righteous cause, yet 
 he dared to do what he felt God wanted him to do. Though 
 his friends thought to dissuade him from his purpose his 
 mind was firmly made up to stand, even alone. This conclu- 
 sion he reached while conversing with friends beneath what 
 is known as “Emancipation Oak” in a little village on the 
 outskirts of the city of London, which still reaches out its 
 leafy boughs to shade the weary pedestrian who happens to 
 pass that way. 
 
 We lingered long, gazing at the statue of this lion-hearted 
 man. I felt I owed it more than a passing glance, as I bowed 
 my head in reverence to the likeness in stone and read the in- 
 scription sacred to his memory. Having thanked God for this 
 noble and extraordinary character, I passed on to another great 
 foe of the slave trade, David Livingstone, who fell asleep in 
 Jesus May i, 1873, i n the sultry wilds of Africa, whither he 
 had gone to lead into the fold of Christ those sheep which 
 Christ speaks of in John x: 16: “.And other sheep I have which 
 are not of this fold ; them also I must bring. And they shall 
 hear my voice and there shall be one fold and one shepherd.” 
 There he lies beneath the stone flooring with the above inscrip- 
 tion written on the marble slab which covers his sacred dust — 
 no, not all of it, for his heart lies buried in Africa. There are 
 few Livingstones to-day. What a wonderful character ! How 
 
114 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 worthy of emulation his example ! “Though he is dead, still 
 shall he live.” What does the Master say about it? “Blessed 
 are the dead who die in the Lord for they rest from their labor 
 and their works do follow them.” This is the kind of mission- 
 aries God wants us to be, to deny ourselves, to make sacrifices 
 to follow after Him. 
 
 The first question most of our missionary ministers of to- 
 day ask is: “How much money is there in it?” Not “How 
 many souls can I win for Christ?” I feel that if David Living- 
 stone gets a jewel for every soul he has led to Christ he will not 
 be able to wear them. He was a true disciple of Christ; there 
 are none lying in the Abbey greater than he in the 
 sight of God, awaitng the resurrection morn. Soon we were 
 walking through the long hall-like places where so many monks 
 are buried, until we reached the street again, carrying with us 
 life-long impressions of England’s illustrious dead who are 
 patiently awaiting in the sacred shadows of Westminster Abbey 
 the coming of the King of kings, and Lord of lords. 
 
 After a good night’s rest we boarded the train the next 
 morning for the home of Shakespeare at Stratford-on-the- 
 Avon. This, too, is a treat to all lovers of scenery, like Ayr, 
 the home of Burns. There has been little change in its style of 
 architecture but it retains its old-time quaintness. I was pleased 
 when I stood in the room where the great writer first saw the 
 light of day. I could not resist the temptation to scribble my 
 name on the low ceiling. We left here for the banks of the 
 Avon river which flows by the church where Shakespeare and 
 his wife lie sleeping under the altar. We reached the railing 
 and read on the slab which covers their last resting place: 
 “Blest be he who does not dig the dust from round these stones. 
 But cursed be he who moves my bones.” Having seen many 
 relics we walked across the meadow-like field to the cottage of 
 Anne Hathaway Shakespeare, whom Shakespeare said “hath a 
 way of her own.” 
 
 On returning to my room in London I received a message 
 from Mr. Bigge, Queen Victoria’s private secretary, saying I 
 must call at Windsor Castle next morning. I was there on 
 time and was received by her Majesty in an informal way, the 
 Oueen having remembered me through the following corre- 
 spondence (taken from the April 4th, 1900, issue of the New 
 Orleans “Picayune”) : 
 
SIGHTSEEING IN LONDON 
 
 115 
 
 Colored Women Send Resolutions of Praise to Queen 
 Victoria. 
 
 At a special meeting last night of the Willard Women’s 
 Christian Temperance Union of Louisiana, Mrs. Frances A. 
 Joseph presiding, the following resolution was adopted : 
 
 “ Resolved , That we, the W. C. T. U. of the State of Lou- 
 isiana, do tender to her majesty, Queen Victoria, our heartfelt 
 sympathy and admiration for her noble and humane stand in 
 demanding equal rights for humanity in the Transvaal. Be it 
 further 
 
 Resolved. That we, in behalf of thousands of Negro moth- 
 ers in this state, offer our prayers to God, our All-wise Father, 
 to help her obtain a speedy victory over a selfish, ungrateful 
 people.” 
 
 This resolution was signed by Mrs. Frances A. Joseph, 
 state president, and Miss M. Wicker, state secretary, and will 
 be forwarded to Queen Victoria.” 
 
 Queen Victoria was a stout and aged woman. She greeted 
 me with a smile as I bowed before her. I presented my letter 
 of introduction from her consul at New Orleans. It was 
 read and she asked if she could do anything for me. I request- 
 ed permission to visit the long unused underground prisons of 
 England under the Tower. She smilingly gave consent, saying 
 on the morrow I should have a guard to take me to the desired 
 place. I thanked her and bade her good-bye. In the morning 
 at nine o’clock the guard arrived with my pass. My hostess 
 and I were ready. He went with us to the Tower where the 
 keeper of the keys stood waiting for us. The great iron doors 
 were opened and we descended the iron steps so far that it 
 seemed we should never get to the bottom. At last our feet 
 touched the stone floor. The guard had a lantern which very 
 poorly lighted up that great long hall. We stopped at the end 
 of the hall and he showed us the great iron gates that opened 
 on the river Thames to receive prisoners, the peasant and the 
 nobleman. We turned down another dark hall where the 
 guard pointed to the cell which had been used by some of the 
 nobility of England. At last we came to the cell called “Little 
 Ease,” where the immortal Latimer and Ridley spent their last 
 days, trusting and praising God. This cell is only five feet 
 square, and when we remember that one of these men was tall- 
 er by five inches we realize there was indeed little comfort for 
 him during his six months’ incarceration. Still, though 
 
116 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 liberty was offered them every day when the jailer 
 brought them their scanty fare of bread and water, they re- 
 fused to pay the price named for it, the telling where the manu- 
 script and the type from which the Bible was printed, was hid- 
 den. While there they scratched on the walls with their fin- 
 gers : “We glorify God with our sufferings. He is with us 
 through it all.” I imagine I can see them on that last morning 
 when they were led out into daylight and were blinded by the 
 light ; when the march was taken up to the market-place, the 
 cart going on before them carrying the faggots that were to 
 form their funeral pyre. Latimer said to Ridley, “Cheer up, 
 old fellow ; we are going to make a light to-day with our bodies 
 that will shine down the ages of time, and show men the way 
 to God.” They marched on to the stake, the crowd following. 
 The cruel mandate of the king is to be obeyed. Protestantism 
 must be wiped out. Rome must rule. These men had bought 
 the necessary machinery and printed the Bible in England. 
 They knew it was against the law. They were hunted and tak- 
 ing ship with their manuscript and machinery, left for France, 
 where for months they dared print the Bible. Then filling a 
 boat they came back to England, distributed the word of God, 
 were caught after a long search by the King’s soldiers, and after 
 imprisonment for six months were brought to account. On 
 they went to the stake smiling; brave soldiers for Christ (step- 
 ping up to the iron stake to which they were chained), with 
 their hands behind them. The faggots which were piled high 
 were soon lighted. The flames leaped up hungrily, licking their 
 bodies as they soared. Yet they sang, their faces shining as 
 they looked heavenward. They died the death of martyrs that 
 the word of God might be handed down to new-born genera- 
 tions. All honor to these saints ! 
 
 While many of the prisons I visited were gloomy, damp 
 and filthy with vermin, I feel that if these men endured so much 
 to bring about reforms in their day, might I not bear some little 
 burdens for my Lord, and work that men may know more of 
 Him through me, His servant? 
 
 This brought our sightseeing across the waters to a close. 
 My date had arrived and after having spent nearly five months 
 in Europe, I prepared to sail for America. I was sorry to re- 
 turn so soon after having made so many warm friends to whom 
 I was loath to say good-bye, but I must return to my work 
 among the friendless ones in New Orleans; hence I bade fare- 
 well to those pleasant scenes and loving friends. 
 
* 
 
 MISS EMMA M. FREUSCH. 
 Of Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND 
 
 117 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 On the morning of September 18th my friends, Miss Long- 
 field and Miss Firth, accompanied me to the train which was 
 bound for Liverpool, where I was to take passage on the 
 steamer “Rhynland” on the following day for America. 
 
 After a long, dreary, foggy voyage of nearly thirteen days 
 we reached Philadelphia. I spent a few days in that city 
 visiting prisons and giving a few lectures, trying to make 
 friends for the work to which I had given much labor, the 
 building of the Colored Industrial Home and School for the 
 colored boys and girls of Louisiana. 
 
 I was invited to Jersey City, N. J., by Bishop and Mrs. A. 
 Walters, which invitation I gratefully accepted. I found in 
 this typical Christian home the latch-string hanging on the out- 
 side. bidding welcome to every earnest Christian worker. In- 
 deed, I was greatly encouraged by their kind advice and earnest 
 prayers. 
 
 Leaving these warm-hearted Christians, I went to Brook- 
 lyn, N. Y., where I was the guest of Rev. and Mrs. H. C. C. 
 Astwood, former U. S. Minister to San Domingo. These kind 
 friends also made it most comfortable and pleasant for me, 
 even in making engagements and arranging for my lectures. It 
 was while stopping here that I had the pleasure of forming the 
 acquaintance of that most kind, loving and philanthropic lady, 
 Miss Emma M. Treusch. My meeting this most estimable lady 
 reminded me of the old, but true adage, “The darkest hour is 
 always just before the dawn of day.” It was during one of 
 these moments when I felt that success was so far away, if 
 there was ever to be any success at all, that I met Miss Treusch. 
 She had read of my work in the papers and called to see me to 
 offer whatever help she could and in whatever way. After ex- 
 plaining all to her, she said to me : “Do not be discouraged, for 
 Jesus is your friend, and He will help you to succeed.” Hav- 
 ing given me much encouragement and strengthened my faith 
 in Him. she said, “Come, let us pray.” We knelt, and she 
 prayed one of those touching, soul-reviving prayers that lifts a 
 Christian away up and makes him know that the Redeemer 
 does live, for He lives in your soul. I shall never forget how 
 earnestly she exhorted me to be of good cheer and while I never 
 for a moment felt like giving up the battle for fallen and suffer- 
 ing humanity, I confess I needed just such words of comfort 
 
118 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 and endearment at that time. Being interested in my work, 
 she has not failed to give as liberally as it was possible for her 
 to give, and to communicate with me from time to time inquir- 
 ing about my health and the progress of the work. May His 
 tender blessings ever attend her ! 
 
 Yes, I know that Jesus is my friend and I am only too 
 willing to trust him. These lines come to me written by my 
 friend, Miss Kathie Grombeck of Glasgow, Scotland: 
 
 “I cannot always see the way that leads 
 To heights above ; 
 
 I sometimes quite forget, He leads me on 
 With hands of Love. 
 
 But yet I know the path must lead me to 
 Immanuel’s Land. 
 
 And when I reach life’s summit I shall know 
 And understand. 
 
 I cannot always face the onward course 
 My ship must take, 
 
 But looking backward I behold afar 
 Its shining wake. 
 
 Illumined with God’s light of Love, and as 
 I onward go, 
 
 In perfect trust, that He who holds the helm 
 The course must know. 
 
 I cannot always see the plan on which 
 He builds my life, 
 
 For oft the sound of hammers, blow on blow, 
 
 The noise of strife, 
 
 Confuse me, till I quite forget He knows 
 And oversees ; 
 
 And that in each detail with this good plan 
 My life agrees. 
 
 I cannot always know and understand 
 The Master’s rule ; 
 
 I cannot always do the task He gives 
 In life’s hard school. 
 
 But I am learning, with His help, to solve 
 Them one by one, 
 
 And when I cannot understand, to say, 
 
 “Thy will be done.” 
 
HOME AT WORK AGAIN 
 
 119 
 
 Through invitation, I made a few visits to the home of 
 Bishop and Mrs. William B. Derrick, at Flushing, N. Y., where 
 I was nicely entertained in their palatial residence, and felt 
 much encouraged by their prayers and interest in my work and 
 in my success. 
 
 From there I went to Washington, D. C., to attend the 
 National Convention of the W. C. T. U., which convened No- 
 vember 30 to December 7. The convention was most help- 
 ful and inspiring. Many receptions were tendered the dele- 
 gates, among which was one given by President and Mrs. Wil- 
 liam McKinley in the executive mansion, where were also the 
 wives of some of the members of the President’s cabinet. The 
 delegates were ushered in by twos and introduced to the Presi- 
 dent and Mrs. McKinley by Secretary Long. Mrs. McKinley, 
 although ill and unable to stand, looked well, more especially 
 when she smiled. Her pleasant, angelic-like countenance, with 
 a soft sweet voice, did not have the tendency to induce one to 
 believe her an invalid. Her pretty blue velvet dress and the 
 magnificent chair upholstered in gold, added considerably to 
 the already beautiful Mrs. McKinley. 
 
 After the session of the National Convention, which was 
 quite interesting as well as instructive, I delivered a few lec- 
 tures in some of the churches there, then went back to Phila- 
 delphia, thence to Brooklyn, N. Y., to fill some previous en- 
 gagements. This being accomplished, I bade good-bye to the 
 many new, kind friends and turned homeward to spend the 
 merry Christmas with loved ones, from whom I had been ab- 
 sent for six months. 
 
 At 11 o’clock, on the morning of December 23rd, our car 
 rolled into the depot, where I was met by my three children, 
 Eva, Eugene and Eddie. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HOME AT WORK AGAIN. 
 
 Before I had time to get out into the streets I was informed 
 by Rev. A. M. Green that I had not arrived at New Orleans as 
 yet. When I inquired the reason why, I was told that there 
 would be a public reception tendered me and that I would be 
 expected to give an account of myself and how the world re- 
 ceived me abroad. I found that a program was arranged 
 for the occasion. 
 
 I repaired to the prison the next morning to find some of 
 
120 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 the old familiar faces and many new ones, increasing my work 
 tenfold. I was appealed to by a mother to see the judge and ask 
 him to give her daughter time in the Parish prison instead ot 
 sending her to the state’s prison. The poor mother worked hard 
 at washing and ironing to educate this daughter and to dress 
 her in the latest styles, creating in her a love for fine clothes, 
 making a goddess of her baby. The girl had not been taught to 
 work but had spent most of her time in school ; and not being 
 able to complete her education to the extent that would enable 
 her to make a living and yet having developed an insatiable 
 love for gaiety and desire for fine clothes, in a weak moment 
 she stole in order to deck the body she so much worshipped. 
 She was detected, arrested and placed in prison, tried by a jur\ , 
 found guilty and the judge was to sentence her, the mother 
 only child. I agreed to help her if she would promise me that 
 this would be her last theft. She willingly signed my pledge, 
 and I saw the judge, who agreed to make the sentence light. 
 
 The curse of dress is on some women of all races and is 
 doing more to corrupt them and undermine society than any 
 other evil. Too many are weak when confronted by this mon- 
 ster, fine dress. Many foolish girls are willing to sacrifice 
 home, loved ones, honor and all that women should hold dear, 
 for a string of pretty beads, a diamond ring or a silk dress, and 
 realize when it is all too late that they have sold the priceless 
 jewel of virtue for a mess of pottage, which is bitter shame and 
 remorse. In the end they become creatures that are shunned 
 by respectable people, lost to society and very often to God. 
 I have seen a white woman, beautiful of face and figure, the 
 beloved wife of a poor man, standing before the judge, hear- 
 ing his words: “I sentence you to six months in the Parish 
 prison for petty larceny.” She had been tried and found 
 guilty of shoplifting. She had stolen over $50.00 worth of 
 laces from one of our largest dry goods stores in the city 
 of New Orleans. We can but draw the mantle of pity over 
 these weak ones ; they were weak, the temptation was 
 strong. God has given a double portion of his blessing to 
 those who will not yield to temptation and they should 
 thank Him for this will-power over temptation that makes 
 them stand ready in the hour of trial and look away to God 
 from whence their strength cometh. 
 
 One morning as I was waiting in the clerk’s office to see 
 the judge of the Second City Criminal Court I heard a voice 
 
HOME AT WORK AGAIN 
 
 121 
 
 exclaim in a loud, painful tone, “She is my wife. We have 
 lived together for thirty-eight years ; the law cannot estrange 
 us.” I rose from my seat and looked in the courtroom and saw 
 a white man 'standing before the bar accused of violating the 
 miscegenation law. The prisoner pleaded not guilty, and was 
 released together with his colored wife whose face was wet 
 with tears. Their bonds were fixed at $250 each. They had 
 grown children in the community who could not be recognized 
 as being colored. These people lived in the suburbs of the city 
 where a large number of truck farmers and fishermen lived, 
 having no caste. White men and colored women and white 
 women and colored men intermarried and reared large 
 families. In most cases the parties had been married for 
 years before the miscegenation law was made. In many of 
 these cases the white men will go on the witness stand, holding 
 the Bible in their hand, and swear they are colored in order to 
 escape suffering and prosecution, thereby frustrating the laws 
 of Louisiana, which would mean separation from their wives 
 and families. In one case a white father had his son arrested 
 for marrying a woman who was known to have colored blood 
 in her veins. When he made the charge the son had been mar- 
 ried three years and two children had been born to the cou- 
 ple. One, a tot of two years, played on the courtroom floor, 
 and the other, a baby of six months, slept in its mother’s 
 arms as the father sat near her lovingly stroking its little 
 feet. The babies were all unmindful of the heartache and 
 anguish of the parents while the law was being invoked to 
 separate them forever. This was the third time the aged 
 father had had his son before the court trying to have the 
 law separate him from his family. 
 
 On November 4, 1909, a pretty mulatto girl was brought 
 before the juvenile court for being in an immoral house, the 
 keeper of same harboring her for that purpose. Her old grand- 
 mother’s head was bowed in shame as she related the story of 
 the girl’s fall. The girl’s mother, who sat near with face suf- 
 fused with tears, when asked why the girl was living with the 
 grandmother instead of living with her, explained that she had 
 married again. Upon further questioning the fact was estab- 
 lished that her husband was a white man, and the district attor- 
 ney had filed charges against them accusing them of living in 
 concubinage, as they had married since the passage of the law 
 preventing marriages between the negro race and the white 
 
122 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 race. The husband had been arrested and brought to court 
 and pleaded not guilty ; he furnished bond and was released, 
 pending trial. I knew him personally and a more gentlemanly, 
 kind-hearted man never lived ; he was the nephew of a former 
 German chancellor. Two days after this man’s arraignment I 
 was astounded and horrified to read in an evening paper that he 
 had bade good-bye to his wife and babies, looked for the last 
 time on their beautiful little home, wended his way to the woods 
 in a lonely spot and had blown out his brains, leaving a note of 
 loving farewell to his wife, asking those who found the body to 
 send it to her. Two white boys discovered his body and robbed 
 it of the little valuables and ran off. A colored woman passing 
 by saw the body and reported it to the police. It was taken 
 home to the heart-broken wife. Let us draw the veil of pity 
 before this scene and stop to learn when this law was made and 
 by whom. 
 
 At the session of the legislature in 1892 a bill was intro- 
 duced in the House of Representatives on June 1st, with the 
 following title : “An act to prohibit the intermarriage of the 
 white and colored races in Louisiana.” Penalties for the vio- 
 lation of same were at the same time provided. The bill be- 
 came house bill No. 136, was reported favorably by the judi- 
 ciary committee on June 21st, defining a colored person to be 
 one having one thirty-second or more of Negro blood in his 
 veins. The bill was received in the Senate on June 28th, re- 
 ferred to the judiciary committee July 7th, reported without 
 action and died with the adjournment of the legislature. On 
 May 30th, 1894, another bill was introduced in the House of 
 Representatives, No. 250, and was referred to the judiciary 
 committee on May 31st. This body reported the bill favorably 
 on June 5th. After several amendments it was finally adopted 
 on June 8th. The bill passed the Senate on June 26th, was 
 approved by the governor of the State of Louisiana, July 5th. 
 In eighteen states of the Union the mixture or intermarriage 
 of the white and Negro is not only not valid but punishable 
 as a crime. 
 
 The judge of the Supreme Court of the State of Penn- 
 sylvania used the following language: “Why our Creator 
 made one man white and the other black we know not, but 
 the fact is apparent and the races are distinct, each pro- 
 ducing its kind and following the peculiar laws of its con- 
 stitution, conceding equality with natures as perfect and 
 
HOME AT WORK AGAIN 
 
 123 
 
 rights as sacred, yet God has made them dissimilar. The 
 natural law which forbids their intermarriage and that 
 amalgamation which leads to a corruption of the races is as 
 clearly defined as that which imparted to them different 
 natures.” 
 
 This judge is all right; the only fault I have to find 
 is that these laws ought to have been made by the Caucasian 
 when the poor Negro, the scapegoat of American civiliza- 
 tion, was lassoed, chained on the Dutch ship and brought 
 to America. The Caucasian has lived to .rue the day and 
 some of his sons and daughters have paid for it in blood 
 and tears, and the end is not yet. 
 
 How much more honorable it would have been had 
 they treated the Africans as they do the other dark races 
 who are receiving Christian help. Each year dozens of 
 missionaries of the Caucasian race are sent to China, Japan 
 and other countries to teach them the way to Christian 
 civilization. America owes a debt to Africa hard to settle. 
 
 A Chinaman, on being asked by an American mis- 
 sionary to accept his Christian teaching and follow Christ, 
 replied: “Me no like Melican man Christ; he let you treat 
 poor Indian and African velly mean.” The Negro has lost 
 much by this intermingling of blood. He has contracted the 
 white man’s diseases that were formerly confined to the 
 Caucasian race. While it may seem strange that the Negro 
 has become peculiarly susceptible to these and weakens 
 quickly, sowing the seeds indiscriminately among those of 
 his race to be reaped by the coming generations, the whole 
 matter of race intermingling is deplorable. Yet I can see 
 no way of preventing it, as the law is not respected by 
 some of the men of the race who have helped to make it. 
 
 For instance, November n, 1910, a wealthy white 
 planter living in Mississippi hired a colored girl as a serv- 
 ant in his home. He fell in love with the pretty mulatto 
 servant and persuaded her to become his mistress. The girl’s 
 mother became angry and went to get her daughter, taking 
 with her an older daughter. She was met on the porch of the 
 planter’s home. He shot her and her daughter and they both 
 fell dead at his feet. The planter’s father helped this son in 
 the fiendish act, while the girl who was his mistress escaped 
 to the town and reported the deed to the officials. The 
 father and son were arrested, and, though one year has 
 
124 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 elapsed, I have not as yet heard of a trial. Deeds of this 
 kind will continue until the white woman rises in her might 
 and. demands a higher standard of morals from the men of 
 her race, as they in turn demand of her. 
 
 During my sojourn of nearly five months in Europe I 
 never heard of a lynching or burning at the stake, and I be- 
 lieve this was due to the rigid enforcement of law; for when 
 a crime is committed an investigation is made as soon as 
 possible and the accused brought to trial without such de- 
 lays and technicalities as are experienced in America, and 
 stern justice meted out. 
 
 The Times-Democrat of New Orleans publishes figures 
 showing 86,934 murders were committed in America in ten 
 years and only 1,149 executions in that time, only one in 
 seventy being executed. 
 
 Among the many letters I have received I cannot re- 
 frain from giving my readers the contents of one from a 
 boy perhaps not more than twelve years of age. He was 
 in the Boys’ House of Refuge, where I used to go every 
 Wednesday when in the city, to read, lecture and encourage 
 the inmates to make the very best of life, and show them the 
 excellent opportunity before them, even though they are 
 confined within the walls of a reformatory. The letter 
 reads : 
 
 “Dear Mrs. Joseph: 
 
 “I write you these few lines to ask you if you will be 
 kind enuff to take me out. I would like to have a home 
 where I could have a place to work. I have not got any 
 parents to take me out. I am the boy that can draw maps 
 so good. I am the one Mr. Peyton, the teacher, told you 
 I was a good boy. I have been in here a long time, and I 
 would like to get out. I will work around the house. I 
 will be a good boy and do as you tell me. I was sent here 
 because I had no home. I am in the fourth reader and I 
 can read well. Some of these days, if God spares me and 
 nothing happens, I will go to Africa and teach these people. 
 I am a Christian and I am glad of it. I try to be a good 
 boy and learn more about God. We can never learn enuff 
 about God. When you come here Wednesday please take 
 me out. This is from Joseph Howard Hawkins.” 
 
 Could you see this bright-eyed little fellow you could 
 
HOME AT WORK AGAIN 
 
 125 
 
 not help liking him. There is a look of intelligence and 
 attraction in his countenance. Think of it, a Christian ! I 
 know you would be impressed with him. I have learned 
 to love him and think him as nice as he has written. 
 He made his way from Canton, Miss. He had no home, 
 no mother, nor father, only an aged grandmother, whom 
 he had assisted as best he could. So he thought by com- 
 ing here he might be able to find something to do whereby 
 he could be of more assistance to this loving old grand- 
 mother. The charge against him was juvenile vagrancy. 
 So you see why he was arrested and sent to the reformatory. 
 Having heard me read of the life of David Livingstone, he 
 became inspired to become a missionary some day. He 
 drew a very pretty map of Africa. Who knows but that 
 this little fellow was not a born artist or missionary? 
 
 There were a great many more just such promising, 
 bright little boys in that institution. 
 
 I was awaited with much anxiety on Wednesday to 
 speak to these dear hearts. Of course, they were not all 
 very good, for some were there for murder, some for gamb- 
 ling and others for malicious mischief, while many were 
 there simply because they were homeless and at the same 
 time perfectly innocent of crime. This mingling of good 
 and bad can but have a very ill effect upon the former. 
 
 The early impressions upon youths are always lasting. 
 Good environment is invaluable to the development of body 
 and mind. . It has greater influence over children, because 
 the child’s mind is fresh, receptive and retentive. Few plants 
 can thrive or reach maturity surrounded by weeds. One 
 or the other must suffer. So it is with these children. Having 
 committed no crime, they should not be placed with those 
 who have. There is nothing good to be learned by this 
 mingling. Instead, much evil is taught by this school of 
 vice furnished by the city. 
 
126 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME. 
 
 To help remedy the conditions mentioned in previous 
 chapters I have founded an industrial home and school, 
 where the homeless children of my race may be cared for 
 and trained for lives of usefulness. 
 
 Our school is located within the corporate limits of the 
 city of New Orleans, about five miles from the center, on a 
 beautiful shell road — Gentilly Avenue. The Louisville and 
 Nashville Railroad runs through the grounds, and the Vil- 
 lere Street car is just within a half-mile of the buildings, af- 
 fording splendid facilities for transportation. The campus 
 is elevated and shaded with many pecan and a variety of 
 fruit trees. The grounds are adorned with beautiful plants, 
 many of which bloom all the year. The grounds consist of 
 105 acres, fifteen of which are under cultivation by an ex- 
 perienced truck farmer. This furnishes admirable facilities 
 for training the boys along industrial lines. The three main 
 buildings are conveniently situated, and the whole plant is 
 worth about $75,000. This industrial home and school was 
 founded eleven years ago, during which time we have added 
 two large buildings, a dormitory for boys with a schoolhouse 
 combined at a cost of $4,000. In 1911 the girls’ dormitory 
 and domestic science building was added at a cost of $6,150. 
 Part of this money was raised by the Times-Democrat of 
 our city. 
 
 This beautiful three-story frame structure was named 
 in memory of my dearest friend, Mrs. Ida A. Rich- 
 ardson, who departed this life on Sunday, April 10, 1910. 
 She was one of God’s true servants, a treasure. She made 
 the doing of good her life work. Philanthropy with her was 
 not the belated restitution of the rich ; not a thing apart from 
 the real business of life, no pastime nor fad, no empty theory. 
 Every thought of her active and practical brain, almost all 
 of her income and the better part of her capital, were dedi- 
 cated to her fellow-men. Mrs. Richardson for many years 
 spent her income in the cause of education and charity, and 
 worked as hard as any capitalist to make her investments 
 pay, simply that she might have more to give. New Or- 
 leans has had many public-spirited citizens, generous bene- 
 factors, but none like Mrs. Richardson. Such a life is never 
 
IDA A. RICHARDSON MEMORIAL, THE GIRLS’ DORMITORY. 
 

COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 127 
 
 ended ; for the good, as well as the evil that we do, lives 
 after us. 
 
 Her life was a rare instance of power for good that lies 
 in each of us as well as an instance of wealth rightly used. 
 She reduced her own personal needs to simplicity and de- 
 voted herself completely to the service of black and white. 
 There was no color to her charity. Her unusual faithfulness 
 to every known duty, her keen practical judgment, her hon- 
 esty of purpose and fervor of action, her unswerving devo- 
 tion to her church, to her friends and to the many associa- 
 tions with which she was so long connected, revealed the 
 true womanliness of her nature. Her philanthropies were 
 manifold, her charity was of the quality which vaunteth not 
 itself but is kind. The poor rise up and call her blessed. 
 
 She was a true, zealous friend. She wrote an appeal for 
 my school and sought subscriptions to help us build a dor- 
 mitory, for which some of her friends criticised her severely 
 and sought to keep her from soliciting. This displeased her 
 and caused her to write letters to all the leading papers of 
 our city condemning her friends for this injustice and preju- 
 dice. She called a meeting of the leading white citizens at 
 her home. Her elegant parlors were filled, and when Judge 
 Robert H. Marr stated the object of the meeting and I was 
 requested to give a description of the work, her dear face 
 beamed with pleasure. This I did, and when the speech- 
 making was over, she was overjoyed to hear Mr. Alfred 
 LeBlanc, treasurer of the Advisory Board and agent for the 
 Harrison Line Steamship Company, say, “We have received 
 at this meeting over a thousand dollars for Frances Joseph’s 
 work.” 
 
 The following was sent by her to all of the local news- 
 papers : 
 
 “Movement To Aid the Worthy Cause.” 
 
 The following appeal was written by Mrs. Dr. T. G. 
 Richardson on behalf of the Colored Industrial Home and 
 School and is endorsed by the Protestant Ministers’ Alli- 
 ance of this city, white : 
 
128 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 MRS. RICHARDSON’S APPEAL. 
 
 Will not all who remember a dear old “Mammy,” a 
 “Nana” or an “Aunty,” in their early childhood days, when 
 they were fondled, petted, coddled and sung to sleep night 
 after night, and to whose arms they ran to be shielded from 
 some well deserved punishment from mother, be willing to 
 spend one dollar to help Frances Joseph in doing her noble 
 work for colored children in her Industrial Home and 
 School? There children are being taught that labor is hon- 
 orable, and by learning to work intelligently they can be- 
 come self-supporting, industrious and respected citizens. 
 
 Is it not a plain duty to us, who remember the love and 
 devotion of Negroes in the days of slavery, and their faith- 
 fulness during the war, when, under every temptation, they 
 refused to leave their mistresses and children, even when 
 left without the master and protector, to assist this good, 
 earnest woman in lifting the heavy debt resting upon her, 
 and in helping her to properly educate the Negro children, 
 not only for their own benefit, but for our future interest as 
 well? Therefore, it is to those who can look back and re- 
 member the love and devotion in those bvgone davs, when 
 as slaves, the Negroes so tenderly nursed them when sick, 
 and night after night cared for them when peevish and fret- 
 ful. It is for those who prepared our dead for the grave, 
 watching by them to the last, and who mourned with us 
 in our sorrow for father or mother, and thev for “Old Mas- 
 ter” or “Mistress,” that I make this appeal, not only as a 
 duty, but in love and gratitude for the devotion their par- 
 ents and grandparents showed for us. 
 
 (Signed) IDA A. RICHARDSON. 
 
 Contributions may be sent to 'Mrs. T. G. Richardson. 
 2426 Prytania; Mrs. F. Joseph, 2611 St. Ann Street, or to 
 the Daily Picayune Office. 
 
 Commenting on the same, the Picayune printed the 
 following : 
 
MRS. IDA A. RICHARDSON 
 Philanthropist. 
 

COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 129 
 
 SOUTH’S TENDER MEMORIES OF THE 
 LOYAL OLD SLAVES. 
 
 Recalled by Mrs. Ida A. Richardson and Other Real Friends 
 
 of the Blacks Who Are Now Seeking to Aid the 
 Cause of Practical Negro Education as Prac- 
 ticed in Industrial Schools. 
 
 During the past week Mrs. Dr. T. G. Richardson, New 
 Orleans’ greatest woman philanthropist, has made several 
 eloquent appeals through the columns of the Picayune for 
 money with which to pay off the debt on the Frances Joseph 
 Home, and thus forward its usefulness. No institution could 
 have a nobler or more practical mission than this, which is 
 devoted to rescuing homeless Negro boys and girls and 
 teaching them some honest craft by which they can make 
 a livelihood. 
 
 The work was started years ago by Mrs. Frances Jo- 
 seph, a colored woman of education and broad sympathies, 
 who decided that she could best help her race by helping 
 its children. Since then she has frequented the recorders’ 
 courts and the police jail, and whenever a boy or girl would 
 be arrested for vagrancy or some petty misdemeanor, she 
 has taken the forlorn little creature to her home, and there 
 tried to instill into them the precepts of a higher life, and 
 taught them how to work as a first aid to righteousness. 
 Finding her little home too narrow for her constantly grow- 
 ing family, three years ago Mrs. Joseph bought a farm on 
 the Gentilly Road for $5,000, where she has established a 
 market garden with the ultimate hope of making the insti- 
 tution self-supportingg, but there still remains a mortgage 
 of $3,000 upon it, one note of which is coming due in April, 
 and it is the money to pay off this for which Mrs. Richard- 
 son appeals. 
 
 “It is an appeal that should not be made in vain to any 
 Southern man or woman,” said Mrs. Richardson yesterday, 
 as she sat in the beautiful library of her luxurious home, 
 “for there is not one of us who belongs to an older genera- 
 tion, at least, who has not some tender recollection of an old 
 mammy on whose broad breast we were cradled in child- 
 hood, or of some faithful servant whose loyalty never wav- 
 
130 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 ered and whose devotion never faltered during all the shock 
 of the war. * * * 
 
 “The one thing,” she said, “that the North has never 
 been able to understand was the relationship that existed 
 between the slaves and their masters. On one side was love 
 and responsibility and on the other pride and faithfulness 
 and out of these grew a bond of devotion that lasted as long 
 as life did. I remember one of my friends, who died a few 
 years ago — an old woman — who sent for all of her old slaves 
 before she passed away to bid them farewell, and when they 
 hung their heads, weeping, around her bed, and asked, ‘Mis- 
 tress, what can we do for you?’ she said, ‘I want you to be 
 my pallbearers.’ And six of the Negro men, who had served 
 her in life, bore her to her grave. In my own family, during 
 the war, when we could no longer protect our money and 
 jewelry from the marauding soldiery we gave them to two 
 faithful servants who carried them safely through every dif- 
 ficulty, and gave them untouched to us at last. One of these 
 servants, a man, carried messages through the lines to a 
 member of the family, who was in hiding, and thus held the 
 master’s life in his hands. Nor were these instances rare. 
 Southern men went to war absolutely without fear, leaving 
 their women and children in the care of some old uncle in 
 whose faith and trustworthiness they could rely. ‘Marse 
 Chan’, Thomas Nelson Page’s beautiful story, had a thou- 
 sand prototypes all over the South.” 
 
 d 
 
 On Sunday, April 12, 1912, the school was caused to 
 mourn the loss by death of another staunch friend in the 
 person of Mr. Albert Baldwin. He was born at Water- 
 town, Mass., April 7, 1834. He came to New Orleans in 
 1858, engaged in numerous successful business enterprises, 
 winning his way into the hearts of the citizens, who re- 
 garded him with the highest esteem and confidence. His 
 great business qualifications were shown by the large num- 
 ber of positions of trust and honor he held; namely, vice- 
 president of the Times-Democrat Publishing Co., a director 
 of the Union Ferry Co., National Rice Milling Co., and the 
 Gullet Gin Co. In 1874, he was elected president of the New 
 Orleans National Bank, which office he retained until 1906. 
 Under his management the institutoin grew from a small 
 beginning to its present important position in the banking 
 
ALBERT BALDWIN, 
 Banker and Philanthropist. 
 
COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 131 
 
 world. His son, Albert Baldwin, Jr., is his worthy successor. 
 Mr. Baldwin was prominently identified with the social and 
 fraternal life of the city, being a member of several carnival 
 organizations and the moving spirit in the Southern Yacht 
 Club. Mr. Baldwin was a very charitable man, but unos- 
 tentatious in his donations. His contributions to public 
 movements of all characters are remembered by many and 
 his private charities are known to have been extensive. 
 
 Mr. Albert Baldwin was president of our Advisory 
 Board, and his unnumbered beneficences included our Home 
 for the young. His silent, sympathetic, generous giv- 
 ing to our Home in the early years of its struggles had no 
 witness save God and a few members of our race bound 
 to observe his injunction that his helpfulness remain 
 untold. Fearless in his attitude of sympathy for our people, 
 he gave no hint of his substantial nature. He personally 
 visited the Colored Industrial Home, saw its workings, 
 commented with discretion upon its needs and many times 
 called meetings which proved financially and ethically to its 
 good. It was indeed a dark hour when we learned of the 
 passing of this great and simple man, because of the grief 
 honestly felt in the hearts of our children and the staggering 
 effect upon our courage. We did not approach Mr. Baldwin 
 for money; but when some friction or complexity arose, we 
 knew where the court of high appeal might be found, and 
 that it was approachable, eager to help by counsel from a 
 legally-clear judgment. This Home long mourned its friend, 
 regrets him still, counting his years all too short for the ac- 
 complishment of the ideals that inspired him. In none of 
 the mansions of the mighty where he was known is his 
 memory more sacredly preserved than among ourselves, and 
 we hold his high example before the waifs and estrays who 
 come to us, as a type of Christian whom even the humble 
 might emulate. For in him there was no pride of attain- 
 ment, no glorying in what he was ; his soul revealed love for 
 his fellow-man, a desire to live usefully and in humility to 
 his Maker. 
 
 Now that he is gone many whom he helped have spo- 
 ken of his thousands of dollars given to Miss Wright’s Night 
 School ; to Catholics, Jewish and Protestant Asylums, and 
 institutions of various kinds. But there is one little instance 
 which we like to recall and which shows the kindliness of 
 
132 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 his heart as manifested in little things. Every morning at 
 about six o’clock, Mr. Baldwin went out on horseback for 
 an hour, according to a lifetime custom. Instead of riding 
 out beautiful Esplanade avenue or in the parks, he chose 
 the streets inhabited by the poor, the roads being sometimes 
 almost impassable. Here he would dispense flowers from 
 his pockets, to the children, white and colored, as they ap- 
 peared, and when it could be unostentatiously done, slipped 
 coins into their hands. The children ran along beside him 
 begging for flowers and their joyful thanks followed him 
 like sweetest music as he returned to the thoroughfares and 
 his home. One day he remarked to a member of his fam- 
 ily: “I have to order more roses for the garden.” “Order 
 more roses ! You already have so many — why not plant 
 other flowers?” Mr. Baldwin shook his head, smiling: “My 
 customers seem to prefer roses,” he answered. His “cus- 
 tomers” were the children who hailed him each morning 
 with a request for a rose. Tiny bunches of violets were 
 made up by his gardener, sprays of mignonette, pure lilies, 
 but he had found out that the demand was more insistent for 
 roses, and roses the children must have ! And it gave him 
 delight to please the children by humoring them. I had not 
 heard of this daily morning incident until after the death 
 of our benevolent friend. When on a visit to my daughter 
 her little lame girl complained that “the kind white gentle- 
 man who gave her flowers and nickels had not passed for a 
 week. Upon questioning the child’s mother told of the daily 
 ride of Mr. Baldwin through unpaved, scarce-visited streets, 
 and the echoes of cheery words and fragrances of costly 
 blossoms he left in his wake. It was my duty to tell the 
 little maimed girl that the earthly friend of the children, of 
 the aged, of the lowly, would pass no more, for he had rid- 
 den away on the grey steed of Death which brings back no 
 rider. The child of seven understood and wept. Per- 
 haps no sincerer tribute was paid the dead philanthropist 
 than those tears of the little lame child, in a lowly home of 
 the French Quarter. Such tears started readily still at men- 
 tion of the name of one who was known as a foremost fin- 
 ancier, a courtly gentleman, a patron of arts and princely 
 host. We know him to have been first of all a brother to 
 the humble, a friend to the downtrodden and obscure, a 
 tender parent to all children. Our pilgrimmage has been 
 
COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 133 
 
 made easier by the staff he extended to all who plodded 
 over rough roads. A practical Christianity was his, which 
 admitted all creeds, all races. 
 
 “To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” Truly 
 in our hearts we will burn incense to his good deeds, and, 
 now that we cannot displease him by so doing, speak often 
 of his munificence. And though we are sorrowing at the 
 thought of the mansion he has builded in the House of 
 God, we will glory in his sacrifices and gifts, his noble in- 
 spiration and friendly word and sum up our praise of him 
 and appreciation of him in one earnest Alleluia ! 
 
 Mrs. Mary Henderson, another dear friend, we must 
 mention, who became interested in us from the beginning, 
 visited us quietly from time to time, anticipating our wants, 
 sending us the funds we needed always with the parting in- 
 junction, “Say nothing about it.” 
 
 The second Christmas in the work found us without 
 funds for Christmas joys. Visiting us a week after and ask- 
 ing how we enjoyed Christmas, I told her we were not able 
 to give the children a Christmas tree. She hung her head 
 in sorrow and I saw two large tears fall on her handker- 
 chief and she said, “That must not happen as long as I live,” 
 and she saw to it that there was joy for the children each 
 Christmas until her death. She gave the first large dona- 
 tion towards building the boys’ dormitory. 
 
 These generous hearts have gone to their reward. They 
 saw that that which they gave the home and school was well 
 invested. Their money helped to save to the state and so- 
 ciety those who would have helped to swell the criminal 
 ranks. 
 
 One of our girls served three years in the home of Mrs. 
 Ida Richardson, giving perfect satisfaction until Mrs. Rich- 
 ardson’s death. One of our boys ran away from his home 
 where he was being ill-treated in one of the country par- 
 ishes, came to our city in a box car. He was promptly 
 taken by the officer when he arrived at the depot, brought 
 to court and turned over to me. His age was ten years. He 
 was ragged, barefooted and bareheaded, and had never 
 been to school. We taught him to read and write, and for 
 four years he acted as our business agent. He wished to 
 go out to work. We let him go. To-day he is chauffeur 
 for one of the leading families. Another one of our 
 
134 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 many boys we might mention was following bad com- 
 pany in the country, was sent to us, kept three years, then 
 put to work for himself, and to-day he is the trusted em- 
 ployee of one of the leading hotels, where he has been for 
 three years. Another boy we have had in the home for 
 three years has been at work for four years. He has felt 
 grateful to us for our training and sent us as a present a 
 fine Jersey cow which we badly needed. He paid for the 
 cow out of his hard-earned savings. Many of our girls are 
 married and are doing well. 
 
 Among those to be thanked for service rendered, which 
 was equivalent to money, is Mrs. Sarah Wagner, who re- 
 mained with us for about five months, serving as matron and 
 teaching the children creole cooking. She was unable to 
 give money, but she gave her loving service free of charge. 
 This was in the beginning of our work. The lamented 
 President McKinley said the chief factor in his cabinet was 
 his cook, likewise was Mrs. Wagner to our Home and 
 School. 
 
 I have children in school whose parents have gone to 
 the state prison to serve a number of years. I have adopted 
 them, and God helping me I shall raise them to be indus- 
 trious, upright citizens. Other parents have gone to the 
 insane asylum leaving their children homeless and desti- 
 tute. Still others have crossed the great beyond. 
 
 One morning the telephone rang for me to come up to 
 the city to get a baby girl and a boy about nine years of age. 
 We got the buggy ready and went to the court. The chil- 
 dren were there. I charged both with being vagrants. The 
 baby smiled as I stood before the judge with her. The charge 
 was read, she could only coo, being merely six months old. 
 The baby was formally turned over to me, after which she 
 was carried out to the Home. After five months in our care, 
 a couple wanting a baby adopted Ruth. The baby will 
 never know that there was a charge made against her, and 
 that she broke the law when only six months old. 
 
 Another pitiful case came to my attention over the tel- 
 ephone. The message was, “Come out at once and get five 
 children who are sick and starving.” We hurried to an old 
 brick building, fit only for rats to live in, on Front street. 
 In a corner of the room, the flooring of which had rotted 
 
RUTH, 
 
 Abandoned When Six Months Old. 
 
COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 135 
 
 away, was some old straw and rags ; on this lay three sick, 
 starving children, watched by two older ones, almost naked. 
 We had been advised to bring some clothing for these chil- 
 dren, and after dressing them, they were placed in our surrey, 
 and hurried to the Home. Just as we were leaving the 
 cocaine-crazed mother came along and was immediately 
 taken in charge by the police. By faithful labor we suc- 
 ceeded in nursing all back to health save the eleven-month 
 old baby, whose condition was beyond human aid. 
 
 Many mothers who have children to support leave them 
 for us to raise, for which they sometimes give us a small fee. 
 Sometimes they are regular, but oft times they are delin- 
 quent in their payments. We had hoped to get more money 
 to carry on this work. We can but wait and pray that God 
 might open the hearts of His treasurers to help save these 
 poor helpless children. We have boys from neighbor- 
 ing states. They get to the city by stealing a ride on 
 freight trains. The officers pick them up from the streets 
 and send them to us. We care for them, being mind- 
 ful of the fact that boys are generally restless. Many 
 men of to-day, high in the nation’s estimation, were at 
 one time runaways, among whom, it is said, are the Japanese 
 Marquise Ito, Governor Shneral of Korea, Japan; Samuel 
 L. Clemens (Mark Twain), of Hannibal, Missouri, the 
 world’s most famous humorist; Joaquin Miller, of Califor- 
 nia, the poet of the Sierras; John Weaver, who successfully 
 defended the American Cup three times ; W. R. Grace, a 
 former Mayor of New York City; Senator Anselmo J. Mc- 
 Laurin, of Mississippi; Senator George Clement Perkins, 
 of California ; George Washington Cooke, Representative-at- 
 Large from Colorado ; Sir Thomas Lipton, of London, Eng- 
 land; and among the colored race are Frederick Douglass, 
 who, it is said, fought with the dogs for a choice bone to 
 sustain life while on the run; Bishop Wayman, of the Afri- 
 can Methodist Church; Crispus Attucks, of Framingham, 
 Mass., patriot, soldier and martyr, to whose memory is 
 erected on Boston Common a statue for having given his 
 life for American independence. His blood was the first 
 shed in the Revolution. Harriet Tubman, the famous scout 
 in the Union Army, and Sojourner Truth are among the 
 Negro women. I am glad these were not caught and placed 
 in a reformatory. Some of the reformatories of to-day are 
 
136 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 simply resting places on the road to the state prison. The 
 children are not classified as they should be. We do not 
 need more reformatories but more well equipped manual 
 training schools with truck farms attached so that the 
 mischievous youth may be taught to work off in a helpful 
 way some of his surplus energy. 
 
 I believe in the classification of children. I am satisfied 
 that, “One rotten apple will spoil a barrel.” Having been 
 a “Probation Officer,” appointed by the Judge of the Juve- 
 nile Court, I am still in touch with that tribunal from which 
 boys and girls, from time to time, are committed to my care. 
 Therefore I am in a position to know. 
 
 I am often asked the question “What do you do with 
 the youths and how long do you keep them?” We invaria- 
 bly try to seek good Christian homes in which to place 
 children, ranging in age from six to eight years. The boys 
 do gardening before and after school and are taught the care 
 of stock, poultry raising and general out-door work, as well 
 as to care for their own rooms and to keep the buildings 
 nice and clean, while the girls are taught cooking, plain and 
 fancy sewing, mattress making, laundering and general 
 housework. When they have been trained well enough to 
 be recommended then they are ready to go out in service 
 and work for wages. By these means we are continually 
 releasing the children, and this must be done in order to 
 make room for others that are coming in. All are taught to 
 work, but in the meanwhile are given ample time for recre- 
 ation. When they are out in service our children are always 
 made to understand that the school is their home. We en- 
 courage them in this way to form an attachment for the 
 school and at the same time to feel that we are interested in 
 them and still have some jurisdiction over them. 
 
 So remarkable has been our progress that although we 
 started out to help the unfortunates, parents have come to 
 us not only in our own city but from adjoining states, and 
 begged that we take their children. This constant demand 
 compelled us to establish a boarding department where we 
 charge the students $6.00 per month, not for the money, but 
 simply to help the poor and needy. 
 
 I know of no other work that boys enjoy more than 
 agriculture. To give a boy a plot of ground to cultivate and 
 
COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 137 
 
 watch the plants grow is to make him a valuable present. 
 You might be amused to see several of our boys with their 
 individual little gardens working faithfully their little crops, 
 each trying to excel the other. 
 
 When a boy has made a failure in his crop he will sell 
 his land to another ready buyer and beg for another plot in 
 some other part of the field. Some boys combine and take 
 as many plots as possible from one who is willing to sell 
 and grow enough vegetables to gather and send to market 
 with ours. They are encouraged in this also because this 
 places individual responsibility upon the boy. Besides we 
 find this healthful and produces rapid muscular develop- 
 ment. 
 
 You perhaps would be surprised to know how much a 
 boy of from ten to twelve years can do in a garden or truck 
 farm. Gathering, bunching and transplanting vegetables 
 seem to be children’s work. Being young and active, they 
 can do so much more of it than an adult, in less time, and 
 with much more ease. One of our little boys has put up 
 i, 060 bunches of carrots, five in a bunch, in a day of eight 
 hours. Another has picked 20 buckets of stringbeans in the 
 same time. They take special pride in preparing the vege- 
 tables for the shipper, and are always anxiously awaiting 
 the reports of sales and are happy when we get a good price 
 and are able to pay off some of our many bills. 
 
 One of our boys of twelve years, thinking we ought to 
 get a higher price for our vegetables, stopped a farmer living 
 near by and asked where he shipped his vegetables and the 
 price he got for them. The farmer replied, “Pittsburg,” 
 and quoted the prices he received. The boy was elated and 
 told the other boys. That evening when I got in from a 
 meeting a delegation waited upon me and requested that I 
 get in touch with the shipper and investigate, which I did, 
 with better results from our sales. 
 
 Each year I give the boys a piece of land for their own 
 use. They began to dispute over their land ; so I decided to 
 take it from them, and sell it at auction to the highest bid- 
 der for a term of eight months. Some offered as much as 
 $1.75 for a tract measuring 30 by 30 feet, another $1.80 for 
 a tract 100 by 8 feet; another $1.50 for 100 by 6 feet, and 
 still another 50 cents for 12 by 12 feet. They purpose to 
 
138 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 buy seeds from me and when the vegetables are matured, 
 to sell at a profit, at which time collections would be made 
 for the sale of the land. 
 
 A boy of fourteen years has been selected to look after 
 the marketing as our sales agent. He has handled over 
 $35.00 for us at one sale, is honest and reliable, never loses 
 a single cent or loiters on the way. This boy is the younger 
 of two brothers, whose father abandoned them when they 
 were seven and eight years old. 
 
 Our girls are as equally enthusiastic about their work 
 and the earning of money. Some of the girls wash and sew 
 for former inmates who are out in service, thus earning a 
 little money to help themselves. They are always eager to 
 try new dishes in cooking and, like the boys, each is trying 
 to excel the other so as to stand at the head of the class. 
 They make all of their own clothes and those of the smaller 
 boys. All are taught to save and economize and that labor 
 is honorable and dignified. 
 
 A few years ago we needed another cow so as to have 
 plenty of milk for some children who were sick and who 
 needed to be fed on a diet of milk and crackers. 
 
 I went to the “Stock Landing,” made known my wants 
 to Messrs. Rice and Mumford. Those kind-hearted gentle- 
 men immediately worded a petition, headed it with $5.00 
 each, circulated it among other commissioners and business 
 men and in less than an hour had succeeded in raising the 
 neat little sum of sixty dollars. In the meantime I had left 
 for home. The next day two pretty cows were driven into 
 our yard by a young man. One of our little boys of eight 
 years came running in breathless haste to say to me that 
 God had sent the cow we had been praying for. And sure 
 enough He had, for we know that “The earth is the Lord’s 
 and the fulness thereof.” 
 
 The children are taught that right living and earnest 
 prayers will always bring needed blessings from God. We 
 hold our regular prayer meetings on Sunday and Wednes- 
 day nights. When some one thing is needed quickly the 
 children pray night and morning until that need has been 
 supplied. 
 
 Of course, I am fully aware of the educational needs of 
 our race. The higher institutions of learning are all doing a 
 great and noble work. W e need college men and college 
 
CONSTELLO, 
 
 Abandoned at the Age of Three Years. 
 
COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 139 
 
 women, but for that class that cannot attain higher educa- 
 tion let us give them what education we can. But by all 
 means let us emphasize industrial education and training. 
 Let us teach the rising generations that life is worth living 
 only when we work, work, work and keep on working. 
 
 One morning as I was sitting in court waiting for a 
 case to be called in which I was interested, a little boy was 
 testifying in a case exposing the conduct of the saloon 
 keepers in the redlight district. They would employ little 
 boys in knee pants to deliver drinks to abandoned women 
 and their male visitors in their cribs. On hearing this tes- 
 timony, I told Miss B., one of my white friends, and Mrs. 
 Hill, who volunteered to go with me on a visit to the slums. 
 We went and were horrified at what we saw. Many chil- 
 dren were found growing up in this hell to take the places of 
 those whom dissipation killed ere they reached half the age 
 allotted to man. We decided to print some tracts, with a 
 copy of the law attached, and place them in every saloon in 
 the district to notify the saloon keepers who were breaking 
 the laws by selling to minors. We selected Saturday night 
 for this purpose, and walked into every saloon, leaving our 
 tracts with the keepers and placed some on the gambling 
 tables. We waited a week, and when we saw the saloon 
 keepers paid no attention to our warnings we went to see the 
 Mayor, then the Chief of Police, who called in the captains of 
 the precincts, told them there were complaints and that they 
 must make arrests. Saturday night next, we three met again 
 at nine o’clock. The inhabitants of the district were in the 
 height of their revelry. We went into the leading saloons, 
 saw the children as before, and decided to act. We noticed 
 a boy of about ten years purchase ten cents worth of whis- 
 key and leave the saloon. I held the boy while Miss B. held 
 the glass of liquor and Mrs. Hill ran for an officer. Mrs. 
 Hill at last found one, who appeared to be dodging her; 
 she got him to come where we were, and when I made com- 
 plaint and requested the officer to arrest the bar-keeper and 
 the boy, he refused, saying he did not see the trouble and 
 would not arrest any one unless one of us went along to 
 make the charge. I readily agreed to go along, thinking 
 we had only to walk to the station, which was but a few 
 squares away. He informed me that I would have to ride 
 in the patrol wagon. This brought consternation to us ; 
 
140 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 horror was written on our faces. What would our friends 
 say? The newspapers would write us up, and we would be 
 ridiculed and disgraced. The officer smiled at our discom- 
 fiture, and then an unseen power urged me on. It seemed 
 to whisper, “Can you not do this for My sake to save the 
 children from these dens of vice?” I grew strong; I said 
 to the policeman, “Order your patrol wagon, I will go.” 
 While he was turning in the call I turned over all the tracts 
 to my friends. The patrol wagon arrived. The policeman, 
 the boy, the bar-keeper and I climbed in. The policeman 
 made me sit at the end, under the bright light on the wagon, 
 where I could be seen by all. What humiliation I suffered 
 only God knows. A large crowd gathered, so my friends 
 took advantage of the opportunity and in the brightly light- 
 ed street they distributed tracts to all, while I rode off amid 
 the jeers of the crowd. Arriving at the station I had the 
 boy paroled. It was twelve o’clock Saturday night. 
 I took him to his home about a mile away and aroused his 
 mother from bed. I stopped long enough to lecture that 
 mother, who was a church member, and who, for three dol- 
 lars per week, hired her boy to this dive keeper. I found 
 better employment for him. On Sunday morning the sa- 
 loon-keepers had a committee of two wait on me to request 
 me not to prosecute them. They promised to discharge 
 every boy in knee pants and get men to fill their places 
 within twenty-four hours. I agreed to wait on them, and 
 they left assuring me that they would keep their word. On 
 the following Saturday night my two friends and I again vis- 
 ited the slums and found they had kept their word; the boys 
 who were discharged were sent to me. I secured positions 
 for some of them in respectable places. This led to other 
 Christians taking note of the slums and taking children from 
 people who kept dens of vice. 
 
 I have still another abominable system to speak of. 
 My friend, Miss B., and I were just leaving Judge Mar- 
 mouget’s court, when we noticed the police van, a wagon 
 closed in on all sides, standing before the building. White 
 and black, males and females, were crowded into this dark 
 vehicle like animals in a cage. Miss B. was horrified. I 
 explained the evil effects of this system and asked her to 
 get the Era Club to take steps to abolish it. She asked me 
 
THE SCHOOL AND BOYS’ DORMITORY. 
 
COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 141 
 
 the best way to go about it, so I explained what I thought 
 best. She exclaimed, “My, you have a fine mind, you ought 
 to be a white woman.” I felt hurt and answered, “I would 
 not insult my God who made me by finding fault with this 
 swarthy skin. He knows what is best and placed me where 
 He had need of me, and I am grateful to Him for the op- 
 portunity to show the world that I can serve Him well 
 where He has placed me.” 
 
 What a pity some people worship color ! It is not 
 color that God looks at but character. The soul stripped 
 of its earthly habiliments stands before God to answer 
 for its conduct while sojourning in its earthly house, 
 before that mortal puts on immortality. How foolish 
 are some of the people of this earth ! The wisest king 
 that ever ruled a people was black. He said, “I am black, 
 yet I am comely.” When the Queen of Sheba called to see 
 him and converse with him, she could but exclaim, “O, Sol- 
 omon, the half has never been told me.” She was over- 
 whelmed with his wisdom and grandeur. David was great, 
 but his black son Solomon was wise and a better king. God 
 seemed to love the dark skins best for he made two-thirds 
 of the earth’s population dark skinned. 
 
 I have visited the art galleries of America, England and 
 France, I have seen pictures of Christ painted by the world’s 
 greatest artists but none of them has painted him with 
 the same features. The Germans have painted Him with 
 blue eyes and flaxen hair; the French and Spanish, as well 
 as the Turks and Moors, yes, and the English have painted 
 Him with brown hair and eyes, black with swarthy com- 
 plexion. I expect to see an artist of African descent paint 
 Him with their features and color, though we do not know 
 His true color. I believe He was colored ; his mother was 
 a Nazarene and only colored people lived in Nazareth at 
 that time. What does it matter, for we are told in the Bible, 
 we shall awake in His likeness, we shall be like Him. Bless- 
 ed book that assures us eternal life, that breathes one gospel 
 for all ! The gospel of God’s love that permeated John 
 Morris who peddled tins for a living, known as cheap John. 
 
 John was a remarkable character ; he was a member of St. 
 Paul M. E. Church (Colored), New Orleans. He was tall, 
 of black complexion, thin, and straight as an arrow ; he was 
 a Salvation Army by himself. Oft we met him on the streets, 
 
142 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME” 
 
 rattling his basket of tins and singing with the Christ-light 
 shining in his eyes, “He saved a poor sinner like me.” One 
 morning I was waiting on the street corner for a car. My 
 thoughts were gloomy as the morning had been filled with 
 many little vexations. It was one of those mornings when 
 everything seemed to go wrong. I heard that familiar voice 
 on another street; finally he came in sight and stopped oppo- 
 site me, looking towards the heaven, singing: 
 
 I was once far away from the Saviour, 
 
 And as vile as a sinner could be; 
 
 And I wondered if Christ the Redeemer 
 Could save a poor sinner like me. 
 
 I wandered on in the darkness, 
 
 Not a ray of light could I see; 
 
 And the thought filled my heart with sadness, 
 There’s no hope for a sinner like me. 
 
 And then, in that dark, lonely hour, 
 
 A voice sweetly whispered to me, 
 
 .Saying, Christ the Redeemer has power 
 To save a poor sinner like thee. 
 
 I listened; and lo ! ’twas the Saviour 
 That was speaking so kindly to me; 
 
 I cried, “I’m the chief of sinners, 
 
 Thou canst save a poor sinner like me !” 
 
 I then fully trusted in Jesus ; 
 
 And oh, what a joy came to me! 
 
 My heart was filled with His praises, 
 
 For saving a sinner like me. 
 
 No longer in darkness I’m walking, 
 
 For the light is now shining on me; 
 
 And now unto others I’m telling 
 
 How he saved a poor sinner like me. 
 
 And when life’s journey is over, 
 
 And I the dear Saviour shall see, 
 
 I’ll praise Him for ever and ever, 
 
 For saving a sinner like me. 
 
COLORED INDUSTRIAL HOME 
 
 143 
 
 I was cheered and felt like singing too. I could not 
 help exclaiming, ‘‘Praise Him. He saves and cheers a poor 
 sinner like me.” John smiled and walked away. I boarded 
 the car with the echo of his song in my heart and a picture 
 of his dear face in memory. Only God knows the great 
 number of people cheered and how many souls were led to 
 Him through the singing of this humble black man during 
 his many years of peddling tins. John knew what it was 
 to be in the secret of God’s presence, and with Wordsworth 
 he could say: “I have felt a presence that disturbs me with 
 joy of elevated thought, a sense sublime of something far 
 more deeply interspersed whose dwelling is the light of set- 
 ting suns and the round ocean, and the living air and the 
 blue sky and in the mind of man a motion and a spirit that 
 impels all thinking things, all objects of all thought and rolls 
 through all things.” And when summed up by black or white 
 sage or serf let the language be smooth or rough, our God 
 understands and reveals Himself to those who seek Him, 
 and have overcoming faith, for through faith I have been 
 able to accomplish this work. I saw my triumph from afar, 
 by faith I drew wit nigh. 
 
 HE LEADETH ME. 
 
 He leadeth me ! Oh, blessed thought, 
 
 Oh ! word with heavenly comfort fraught ; 
 
 Whate’er I do, where’er I be, 
 
 Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me. 
 
 Sometimes ’mid scenes of deepest gloom 
 Sometimes where Eden’s bowers bloom, 
 
 By waters still o’er trouble sea — 
 
 Still ’tis His hand that leadeth me. 
 
 I owe everlasting gratitude to that noble, broadminded, 
 unprejudiced Christian lady, Mrs. Ida A. Richardson, the 
 widow of Dr. T. G. Richardson; Miss E. M. Treusch, Mr. 
 A. Baldwin, Mrs. Mary Henderson, Judge and Mrs. Robt. 
 H. Marr, Mr. Alfred LeBlanc, Miss Sarah Henderson, The 
 Daily Picayune, The Item, The Times-Democrat, and a host 
 of white friends who have been most kind to me, and who 
 have been ever ready to help with advice and money when 
 it seemed I could not get along. 
 
144 
 
 “HE LEADETH ME 
 
 I could not write finis to this book, however, without 
 giving credit to the colored ministry of my city and state, 
 who have thrown open the doors of their churches for my 
 reception to enlist their congregations in the work. Also 
 to the many friends and secret and benevolent organizations. 
 Nor could I fail to give due credit to the bord’s first secre- 
 tary, Mr. A. P. Gaudet, who has labored most earnestly, 
 giving his time and money to the work among the children 
 of his race whom he loves. Mr. Gaudet was at my first 
 meeting, taking note of all that was said, entered zealously 
 in planning to help for the success of the project which I 
 presented. This was not a spasmodic interest but an untir- 
 ing one, increasing with the years so much so that he per- 
 suaded me to retract my vow to remain single June n, 1905, 
 and agree to write my name 
 
 FRANCES JOSEPH-GAUDET.