I go to the Tombs to see them, and as I go up the big stone
steps where the visitors go in, the big barred gate opens, and the
warden touches his hat and says, "How do you do, Mr. Ranney," and I go
in. There's always a queer feeling comes over me when that gate is shut
behind me. I realize that I am coming out in an hour or so, but there
was a time when I was shoved through the old gate, and didn't know when
I would come out.
A COUNT DISGUISED AS A TRAMP
One night in Mariners' Temple, on Chatham Square, I was leading a
meeting for men; it was near closing time and the invitation had been
given. There were three men at the front on their knees calling on God
to help them.
I look back to that night as one I never can forget. One of the men who
came up front had no coat; it had been stolen from him in some saloon
while he was in a drunken sleep, so he told me. After prayer had been
offered and we got on our feet we asked the men to give their testimony.
In fact, I think it is a good thing for them to testify, as it helps
them when they have declared themselves before the others. They each
gave a short testimony in which they said that they intended to lead a
better life, with God's help.
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