ain. I'd go back to my old life of gambling and cheating, and I did.

"Five months passed. I had not seen Ranney in all that time. I was
playing poker one night, the 16th of September, 1899, with no more
thought of Dave than if he had never lived. It was in the old ---- ----
Hotel on Water Street, a little before eight in the evening. My partner
and I were having a pretty easy time stealing the other men's
money--some call it cheating--when my thoughts turned to my old
Christian pal Ranney. It was the eighth anniversary of his conversion.
Quick as a flash I jumped to my feet and said, 'Boys, I'll be back in an
hour. I've got to go!' My partner thought I had been caught cheating and
was going to cash his chips. I said, 'I'll be back in a little while.'

"I ran all the way up to the Bowery to the place where Ranney was
holding his meeting. The Mission was packed. There were a lot of
big-guns on the platform. No one saw me that knew me. Ranney was asking
for those testimonies that would help the other fellow. I got on my feet
and faced him. He turned pale. He thought I was going to set him out
then and there. He looked me straight in the eye and began to come
slowly toward me, and when I had finished we had one another by the
hand. This is part of what I said that night:

"'I make no pretense at being a Christian. I am a gambler. But the man
standing there--Dave Ranney--was once my chum and pal. We had a little
misunderstanding some five months ago, and I am here to-night to ask his
forgiveness. Forgive me, Dave. I just left a card-game to come up to
your anniversary and help make you happy. I know you don't believe I
meant what I said. I love you more to-night than any time since I first
met you. Why, men, I would lay down my life that Ranney is one of the
best and whitest Christians in New York to-night. It ain't the big
things that a man does that show his real character. No, it's the little
things. I have watched Ranney, been with him; his sorrows are my
sorrows, his joys my joys. I can't say any more to-night.'

"Dave begged me to stay. Mr. Seymour came down to speak to me, but I'd
done what I came to do, and I had got out quick--from Heaven to Hell,
from my Christian pal to my pal in crime at the card-table.

"I've never been converted. If I was I'd go like my pal Ranney out in
the world and tell how God saved me, and not let the ministers do all
the talking. At present all I can say is, 'God bless my pal! and som