ne man in particular who used to come into the
Mission. He was one of the regulars and was nearly always drunk. He used
to want us to sing all the time. He was a fine fellow, but down and out,
and every cent he could earn went to the saloons. I would talk to him
nearly every night and ask him why he did not stop his drinking. He
would listen, but the next night he would be drunk just the same.

There was good stuff in him, for he was a good bricklayer and could make
from $5.00 to $6.00 per day. He told me he was married, and his wife and
two children were in Syracuse, living perhaps on charity, while he,
instead of making a living for them and giving them a good home, was
here on the Bowery drinking himself to death.

He would often say, "Danny, if I could only sober up and be a man and go
back to my family, I'd give anything. But what's the use of trying? I
can't stop, and I wish sometimes that I was dead. And sometimes, Mr.
Ranney, I'm tempted to end it all in the river."

I reasoned with this man time and time again, but with no effect. He
knew it was the right way to live, but thought it was not for him, and I
thought that if a man was ever gone it was that young man.

One night as the invitation was being given I caught his eye and I
said, "Jim, come up front and get rid of that drink." But he said,
"What's the use?" I went down, took him by the hand, led him up front,
and we all knelt down and asked God to save these poor men. I asked them
all to pray for themselves and when I got to Jim I said, "Jim, now
pray." And he said, "Lord, help me to be a man and cut the 'booze' out
of my life for Jesus' sake. Amen."

He meant business that night and was as sincere as could be. We all got
up from our knees, and I put the usual question to them all, now that
they had taken Jesus, what were they going to do? It came Jim's turn,
and he said, "Mr. Ranney, I've asked God to help me, and I'm going out
of this Mission and I'm not going to drink any more whiskey." Then
almost in the same breath he said, "I wonder if God will give me a pair
of pants." That created a smile in the audience. I knew I could get Jim
a pair of pants, and he needed them badly. Just imagine a man six feet
tall with a pair of pants on that reached just below the knees, and you
have Jim.

I said, "Jim, you have asked God to help you, and He will if you let
him. If you keep sober until Friday night, and come in here every night
and give your testimony,