I went to Alaska with the gold rush in 1898 leaving home filled with sin and infidelity. Like Paul, I persecuted the church with all my might and mind. Just before leaving, my little daughter came to me and asked me if I did not want to take a Testament with me. I told her no; I had no use for a Testament.
I arrived in Shagway with about 160 others, after a trip of carousing; for most of those on the steamer were, like myself, full of sin. We landed on the 4th of March, and began to march into the interior with hand sledges. With some others I went to what is known as Fortymile Creek. Here I mined on the old Bonanza bar during the summer, and in the fall fixed up an old cabin for my winter quarters. An old man stayed with me, but I was so mean that we could not live together, because I thought he was the meanest man I ever saw. The result of our disagreement was that I fixed up another cabin that was on the bar and took a man in with me who was a Catholic and he had been sent to Alaska to get him sobered up, for he could not let booze alone when he could get it. A little later a man came to that part of the gold region who he was a confirmed spiritualist and infidel. I invited him to my cabin to spend the evening with us. He came, and soon we began to hold seances and have communication with the spirits of darkness.
This kind of life went on for some weeks when one day one of the boys had a sick spell, and I went into my medicine chest to find a remedy. When I opened it, imagine my surprise to see a little Testament in it. I took it out, and the first thing I saw was the name of my daughter on the fly-leaf. One of the boys asked me what it was, and I said: “It a is little Testament little Florence has put into my chest.” It touched my heart some, but I pretended I did not care to look into it. But as soon as the man had examined it, I took it again and felt that I ought to keep it because of the giver, if not for what it contained.
For several nights we read the Testament some, more to find errors and contradictions than the truth. But finally we got to reading in the gospel of John, and by the time we reached the thirteenth chapter I was under conviction and wished that I might get rid of my companions, that I might get down and pray for forgiveness. I did not know that they were also under conviction.
The next night we had the fourteenth of John, and I wished I could be alone so that I could pray. But the boys were there, and as I had been the leader in all our talks against the Bible I felt ashamed to say anything to them of my feelings.
The next night we took up the fifteenth, and I was about to get down and pray or go out somewhere to give vent to my feelings, when the Catholic boy said, “I feel we ought to pray.” I looked at the Spiritualist to see how he would take it, and he said he had been feeling that way for several nights. And that left me free, so I fell on my face before God and began to cry for mercy. And so did the other two. And such a time as we had there until away after midnight. The light of Heaven came in, and so did forgiveness. We were all set free that night.
That ended the seances, and instead of them we had real prayer meetings and Bible readings, and it was wonderful how the Lord opened up to us His precious Word. I promised God if He would save me from my sins I would go to Los Angeles and preach Christ on the same street corners where I had preached infidelity. And that I did, bless His name.
The evening we were saved I had killed a bird called a tomikan, and had also baked yeast bread. I was a good baker and my bread was fine. Now comes what proved my conversion and the new birth. I thought of the old man in the other cabin, and felt a love for him that I could not have felt without the Spirit of Christ in me. I arose next morning and took the bird all nicely cleaned and a fine loaf of bread (for I knew he could not make anything but pancakes for bread) and went to the other cabin. I knocked at the door, and the old man came very cautiously and opened it. How my heart went out to him as he stood there, all drawn with age and hardships, his hands all twisted with rheumatism. I said “Brother, I have brought you a bird and some good bread, which I want you to have.” And as I said it tears came into his dim eyes and I burst out crying and praising God for deliverance. He took the offerings, and then asked me what had happened to me. And I told him the story of my conversion, and he was really convicted. He had been one of the most profane men I had ever known, but after that I never heard him utter an oath.
Sel.