away, including Boston, Philadelphia, Albany, and Troy. I
tell the Bowery boys I'm what is called an extemporaneous talker. I
don't know the first word I'm going to say when I get on my feet, but
God never leaves me: I just open my mouth and He fills it. Praise His
name!

It was a lesson to me and I have never forgotten it.

THE TESTIMONY OF A GAMBLER

While I was sexton of the old Sea and Land Church I met among other men
one who came to be a great friend. We called ourselves pals and loved
each other dearly, and yet I have never been able to bring him to
Christ. When I told him I was writing the story of my life he said he
wanted to add a few lines to tell, he said, what I could not. This is
what he wrote:

"'Lead, Kindly Light,' was the song; I'll never forget it. I heard it on
the Bowery fifteen years ago. I was passing a Mission, and hearing it I
went in--I don't know why to this day. After the singing some one
prayed, and I started to go out when the leader of the meeting called
for testimonies for Christ. I waited and listened, and I heard a voice
that made me sit down again. I shall never forget the man that was
speaking. What he said sounded like the truth. It was the greatest
sermon I ever listened to. He was telling how much God had done for him,
saved him from drink and made a Christian man of him. I knew it was the
truth. I went home that night to wife and children, and told my wife
where I had been. She laughed and said, 'Dan, you are getting daffy.'
From that night on I have been a better husband and father.

"I left home one night about six o'clock and went down Cherry Street to
a saloon where the gang hang out. I had been telling the boys about the
things I had heard at the Mission. A young man said, 'Sullivan, there
was a young preacher down at my house and asked me to come to a young
people's meeting at the Sea and Land Church. I promised I would go, but
I haven't got the courage.' In a moment I got churchy. I had never been
in a church in New York. I said, 'Come on,' and we went to that meeting.
I am glad I did. That night I met my friend Ranney. As I was passing out
of the meeting he greeted me--he was the sexton--with a handshake and a
'Good-night, old pal; come again!' There is something in a handshake,
and as we shook I felt I had made another friend. I'll never forget that
night. We became fast friends. There is no one that knows Ranney better
than Sullivan. I have watched him in his clim