no matter how short, God will send you a pair
of pants." This was on Monday night, my own special night. I knew if Jim
came in every night sober, something was doing. Tuesday night came, and
sure enough there was Jim with his testimony. He got up and thanked God
for being one day without taking a drink. I said, "Praise God! Keep it
up, Jim!" Wednesday night Jim thanked God for two days' victory. He was
doing finely. Thursday came, and Jim was there with his testimony of
three days saved. He had one more day to go before he got his pants.
Friday night came and I had gone up and got the pants, but no Jim made
his appearance. Near closing time the door opened and in walked Jim. He
stood back and just roared out, "Danny, I'm as drunk as a fool; I've
lost the pants!" then walked out.

I did not see him for a couple of nights, then he came into the Mission,
sat down and was fairly quiet. I reached him in the course of the
evening and shook hands with him, but I did not say a word about his
going back. That worried him a good deal, for he said, "Dan, are you mad
with me?" I said, "No, Jim, I'm mad with the Devil, and I wish I could
kick him out of you and kill him." Jim smiled and said, "You're a queer
one."

I did not give Jim up, but I did not say anything to him about giving up
the drink again for about a week. He would always be in the meeting and
I would notice him with a handshake and a smile. I could see he was
thinking quite hard and he was not drinking as much as he had been. I
was praying for that man, and I was sure that He was going to give me
Jim.

One night about a month after Jim had tried the first time, I was giving
the invitation to the men, as usual, for all who wanted this salvation
to come forward and let us pray with them. After coaxing and pleading
with them there were six fellows that came forward and knelt down, when
to my astonishment who came walking up the aisle but Jim! He knelt down
with the others and prayed. I did not know what the prayer was, but when
he rose he went back and took his seat and said nothing.

A month went by to a day. There were testimonies every night from all
over the Mission about what God had done and was doing, but Jim never
gave the first word of testimony. I often wondered why. This night he
got on his feet, and this is what he said: "Men, I've been everything
that's bad and mean, a crook and a drunkard, separated from wife and
children, a good-for-nothing man. I wan