t and had a bath and came back with the
change. He showed me where I could change my clothes, and there was a
whole outfit laid out for me, underwear and all.

I thought the man was crazy. I could not understand. At last I got into
the clothes, and I felt fine. I got a look at myself in the glass, and I
looked like a full-fledged Bowery politician. I said as I looked, "Is
this me or some other fellow?" I weighed one hundred and ninety pounds
and was five feet ten inches tall.

I went into the young man's study and sat down. I did not know what was
coming next, perhaps money. I was ready for anything, for I took him for
a millionaire's son.

Up to this time he had said nothing to me about God. Finally he opened
up and asked my name. I told him Dave Ranney, but I had a few others to
use in a pinch. And I told him the truth; kindness had won.

He said, "Dave, why are you leading such a life? Don't you know you were
cut out for a far better one?" I was no fool; I knew all about that. I
had learned it in Sunday-school, and how often mother had told me the
same thing. I knew I was put into the world to get the best, and glorify
God; and I was getting the worst, and it was all my own fault. Here I
was. I felt that no one wanted anything to do with me, no one would
trust me, because I was a jail-bird. But I have found out since there
are people that are willing to help a man if they see he is on the
level.

"Why," I said, "a man that has no backing has no show in 'little old New
York.' You even have to have a pull to get a job shoveling snow, and
then you have to buy your own shovel! What does any one care? The
politicians have all they want and are only looking for more graft. They
need you just twice a year to register and vote. I know I'm crooked, and
it's my own fault, I admit, but who's going to give me a chance? Oh, for
a chance!"

The young fellow listened, then said, "Dave, there's One that will
help."

I did not catch on to his meaning, but said I was glad and thanked him
for what he had done. I thought he meant himself. "Not I," he said; "I
mean God. Why don't you give Him a chance? Talk about men giving you a
chance--why, God is waiting for a chance to help you!"

Just then my old friend the Devil came in; he always does when he thinks
he is going to lose a convert; and he said in his own fine way, "Oh,
what rot! Why didn't God help you before this? Don't bother about it;
you have a nice suit; get out of th