ed not to meet again until in the world of perpetual sunshine.
The next day this poor convict was taken with the prison fever, and in
one short week he was a corpse. He died trusting in his Saviour. The
chaplain, speaking of this man's death, said if officers or convicts at
death go from the Kansas penitentiary to heaven, then Frank Rhodes was
among the saved; he was a true Christian man. After death his body was
sent to his former home, Holton, where it was buried.

The following is my experience with a poor friendless colored boy who
had a six years' sentence for burglary. I took the prison fever and was
sent to the hospital. This colored convict was detailed as my nurse.
He had been sick, but was then convalescent. He was very kind to me;
because of this kindness and good care I began to like him. He seemed
anxious to make me comfortable. "Be kind to the sick and you will win
their friendship." I was quite sick for two weeks, but began to recover
slowly. About this time my nurse suffered a relapse. He grew worse and
worse. The doctor gave him up. "Bob must die," he said to the head nurse
one day in my hearing. A day or two after this, Bob, for that was the
sick prisoner's name, sent for me to come to his couch. I sat down on
the edge of his bed and asked him what he wanted. He said: "I am going
to die, and want a friend. In all this wide world," continued he, "there
is not a single human being that I can look upon as my friend." He then
told me how he had lost his father and mother when a mere child, had
drifted out into the world an orphan boy, got into bad company, into
crime and into prison. As I sat there looking into the face of that
little darkey, I thought how sad his lot must be, and my sympathies were
aroused. I said, "Bob, is there anything I can do for you? I am
your friend, and will do all I can to aid you." I spoke words of
encouragement, and tried to cheer him up by saying that I thought he
would not die. In this I used a little deceit, but it was to assuage his
grief. I really thought he would die very soon. Then he told me what he
wanted. He said, "I am going to die; my angel mother came to my bedside
last night; I saw her as plainly as I see you now. She said she was
coming soon to take me out of prison and out of this world of sorrow.
Yes, I am going to die, but I am afraid to cross the dark river. When
I am dying I want you to sit by my bedside, take hold of my hand and go
with me down the vale of d