MR. RUSSELL was an evangelist and a capital open-air speaker. He had a powerful musical voice which on a quiet evening could be heard half a mile away.
In that neighborhood lived Joe Braley, a big tough fellow with an unenviable reputation. He was often in prison for poaching, stealing, beating his wife, and was nearly always “wanted” by the police.
Having “spotted” a house for his midnight work, he was making his way along the river bank, with his bag of tools. Suddenly a distant voice fell on his ears. Out of curiosity he followed the sound until he found himself on the outskirts of a crowd listening to the earnest words of the gospel.
An hour later when the preacher was sitting at supper, a knock was heard at the door; it was Joe Braley to see Mr. Russell. Poor timid Mrs. Russell followed her husband quietly to the door. There stood a dirty figure, and a gruff voice asked, “Are you Mr. Russell?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you know me?”
“Yes, Joe, I do.”
“I want you to come for a walk with me.”
Poor Mrs. Russell pleaded with her husband not to venture out at that late hour into the dark night. But it was in vain.
Together the preacher and poacher walked in silence, Mr. Russell wondering what could be Joe’s errand. On, on, until out of town and up a lonely lane, then Joe came to a sudden halt.
“You know what my life has been,” he began, “I started out along the river bank intending to break into a house this evening when a voice fell on my ears. Scarcely knowing what I did, I came to a crowd and heard you preaching. I found out your name and address, and now I want to know if all that you said is true.”
“Yes, Joe, every word.”
“Then do you think there is any hope for me? Can Jesus save such a sinner as I am?”
“Yes, Joe; I have no doubt about it whatever, seeing He can save to the uttermost.”
“Yes, but you don’t know all my life. There is hardly a sin under the sun I haven’t committed; these hands were stained with blood. Can there be mercy for such a deep-dyed sinner?”
“Then I want you to see me bury these things, and kneel with me upon their grave.”
Cutting the turf carefully he dug a hole in the ground, and there deposited his revolver, his jimmy, his skeleton keys and other various house-breaking tools. Then treading down the earth, he re-laid the turf and then he and the preacher knelt in the darkness, crying to God for mercy. They arose from prayer, Joe said good-bye to Mr. Russell, and was no more heard of in that neighborhood. What happened to him was a secret; if he was alive, it was evident he had put distance between himself and his old companions as his only chance of a better life.
In the years that followed Mr. Russell often told to his children, growing up around him, the tale of his midnight adventure, and wondered what had become of Joe.
(To be continued next week, D.V.)
ML-04/04/1971