Prisons and Prayer; Or, a Labor of Love. Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton

acquainted with Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, familiarly known as "Mother Wheaton," the prison evangelist, and I take pleasure in recommending her and endorsing her work among those who are detained in prisons and jails.

      Her manifest Christian spirit, sympathy with the unfortunate and condemned ones, sincere humility, all entitle her to the esteem and confidence of all, and I believe her work productive of much good.

      Signed,

      P. C. Johnson,

       Chaplain of Nebraska Penitentiary,

       Lancaster, Neb.

      Huntsville, Tex., Aug. 8, 1904.

      To Whom It May Concern:

      This is to certify that Sister Elizabeth R. Wheaton, prison evangelist, has visited our prison and held a profitable service. She is a consecrated woman and has her heart in the work. Would to God that we had more such women. May the Lord raise them up and help these poor unfortunate men who are confined within prison walls. All the prisoners who know her love her and call her mother. May the Lord in his mercy preserve her and give her many souls for her labor.

      W. T. McDonald,

       Chaplain Penitentiary.

      Charlestown, Mass., Oct. 30, 1885.

      Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

      I am sorry I had no opportunity to see you before you left. I trust we may see you on your way to the south. Mrs. Chapman informed me last evening of your whereabouts and the Warden wished me to convey his regards to you and say that he should like to see you here again, if convenient or consistent with your plans, on Sunday next (Nov. 1).

      Accompanying this please find some notes from different prisoners. The Warden would be glad to have you here some Saturday P.M. in order that you should be in the yard, at liberty with all the men, that you might speak with them at your freedom or pleasure personally. I trust that the divine light is flooding your spirit and I pray it may do so forever.

      I hope that Christ is ever a satisfying portion to you and that your comforts in Him are numberless and rich.

      May God Almighty fill you with himself.

      Respectfully,

      J. W. F. Barnes,

       Chaplain Mass. State Prison.

      P.S. Also find herewith a paper drawn up by one prisoner and signed by thirty-three others.

      J. W. F. B.

      Charlestown, Mass., June 4, 1887.

      Dear Sister Wheaton:

      Things here seem to be getting on to the praise of Jehovah. I had a good, long letter from Sister B. this morning. It is most blessed to feel that Jesus abides in the ship and commands the winds and sea as well. Praise his glorious name!

      What a blessing it is to be on the altar in God's service, ready to go or stay; ready to labor or to rest; to bear burdens or be free.

      I trust that the fullest rays of the Sun Divine may warm your heart and make your life fruitful.

      God be with you richly in all things.

      With best of wishes,

      J. W. F. Barnes, Chaplain.

      Massachusetts State Prison.

      Charlestown, Feb. 13, 1896.

      Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

      Your postal to the Warden concerning—— was put into my hands. This is the first moment I have had to devote to an answer. He is in the city working. He has made excellent friends. He stands well in the church he has joined; is connected with a very large Bible class of young men and frequently has to be its teacher. He is active in the church, but closely confined to his work.

      We are in fair condition, comparatively, in the prison. We have tonight, 761 prisoners. I send you one of our reports with this.

      A. is still keeping a Rescue Mission and doing well.

      I presume you are still after the welfare of the prisoners. I have been very ill since I saw you, but am able to be at my work again. Our little prayer meeting on Saturday P. M. still goes on doing good. The Lord is with us in the enlightening and building up of souls.

      Such work as you used to do has been left out of the prison life and no one is allowed now to go into the chapel on Sundays. Once each month I take in some people to help us sing in our praise service. The same people every time, however. Pray for us.

      Sincerely yours,

      J. W. F. Barnes, Chaplain.

      Massachusetts State Prison.

      Charlestown, June 14, 1899.

      Dear Sister Wheaton:

      Yours came on Monday last. I was glad to hear from you, and to get the enclosures in your letter. They are good—very good—for my work and my own life. I heartily reciprocate all your good wishes for me and pray that you may be preserved from all evil.

      We have had some blessed conversions here and one or two of our men have gone to their reward in great peace and joy.

      F. is doing well and much loved in his work for Christ. He is at same address I sent you before.

      Truly yours in the work,

      J. W. F. Barnes, Chaplain.

       PERSONAL WORK.

CHAPTER VI.

       Table of Contents

Some of My Prison Boys.

       Table of Contents

      The writer of the following letters was one of the most remarkably conscientious persons I ever knew. As a prisoner, he was very highly respected by the officers. His chaplain has ever remained his sincere friend and counselor. Years have passed since he left prison life and he still remains an earnest Christian and an honorable member of society. No one but his pastor, employer and former friends know his past history.

      He was converted in prison during services I held in 1884 or 1885. He presented me some years ago with a book of poems of his own writing. Not being able to carry them with me, I have lost trace of them. Otherwise would be glad to furnish some of them to my readers.

      To Mrs. Wheaton, My Dear Mother in the Lord:

      I call you by this name because I am young and have lost my mother in the flesh, and I am writing this letter because, as you have given up all for Jesus' sake, you only can help me as I wish. You can pray for me as a mother prays for a son. I am twenty-four years old, have an eighteen years' sentence, have served four years of it and expect to serve the whole of it for I have no influential friends to help me.

      I had not been here a year until I realized what eighteen years of prison life meant—the deprivation of all earthly pleasures, and the wasting away of youthful hopes and ambitions in vain regret. Grief, misery and despair overwhelmed me every night, and every night I wished that I were dead. A great struggle was going on in my soul. A struggle for either life or death, and, thank God, life had the victory.

      I am now a Christian. A night of revelation came to me in which God, as Judge, and Jesus, as Saviour, revealed to me—the one, the power and glory; the other, the love of God.

      But my way is not like the peaceful flow of a river, but like a stream of cascades. By leaps I draw nearer to God. In the meantime I do not keep the image of Jesus before me. Pray, dear mother, this special prayer for me, that my faith may be constant; that self shall