A LETTER by Ida Carmichael

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 16, 1900

A LETTER.

By Ida Carmichael

DEAR BRETHREN AND SISTERS OF THE REVIEW FAMILY: I think you may be interested in the letters I send. Remember, the controversy between Christ and Satan is not yet over. Please do not lose your interest in my work. Give me your prayers, and material aid. I wish to encourage you by quoting from a letter lately received from my husband. Writing of the convicts, he said: “Fifty per cent of the men here are convinced of the Sabbath truth, and boldly say that if ever free, and connected with any religious body, it will be with the Adventist Church.” The following letter is from the men of that force:—

DAWSON, TEX., Nov. 13, 1899.

Mrs. A. L. Carmichael, Keene, Tex.

DEAR MADAM: We, the prisoners under Sergeant W. F. Morton, beg leave to tender you our sincerest thanks for the Christian literature you have been so kind as to send us during this year; also for the kindly interest you have taken in our present deplorable condition and our future welfare. May you live to see many years of happiness, and may the cause for which you are so nobly working be crowned with success in the end. We assure you of our best wishes.

Allow us, dear madam, to thank you again for your kindness.

Yours most respectfully,

PRISONERS ON SERGEANT W. F. MORTON’S TRAIN.

Early in November I received the following letter, which tells its own story:—

Mrs. Ida Carmichael,

Keene, Tex.

DEAR MADAM: I saw your letter in the ADVENT REVIEW AND SABBATH HERALD of June 27, and I have been trying to get able to write to you ever since I read your letter. I am very poor, and have been sick a long time. I have had the most heartrending and humiliating trouble to bear that any mother ever had. I have a poor boy somewhere in Texas,—in prison, I have been told,—but I have not heard from him for a long time. He wrote to me last spring that he was in prison, but expected to be free soon. It seems as if I could never be well again. I have written to him several times, but my letters come back uncalled for. I have written to every person that I thought could give me any information, but I have heard nothing that I can believe to be true.

You say that you are the prisoner’s friend. Will you please try to find my boy, and write to me? My poor, darling, precious boy! I do not know what he has done since he left me. He was always easily persuaded, but he was good and kind to mama, and to his little sister; and he loved us dearly. He went away to find work. I was in bed when he went. I had been in bed two months, but was getting able to sit up. He had been saying, “When mama gets able to sit up, I am going to Texas to make some money, and shall buy mama so many nice things.” Sunday he helped me up into the rocking-chair. Monday morning he came to me with his valise packed, and kissed me, and begged me not to cry. He said that he would be back in two months. He said he could make no money here—and I let him go. My poor boy! He was too young—that was two years ago last June, and how I have suffered God only knows. He wrote regularly every two weeks for a while. He sent me five dollars; then we heard no more for a long time. Then he wrote that he had had trouble, and had been sick.

I am telling you all this because you are a woman, and I know that you have a heart, and I believe you will see how I am suffering. He wrote me last spring that he was in prison, but would soon be free. He told me to write to him, and address my letter to —. That is not my boy’s name. But will you find out if there is a — in the — prison, and write to me? My boy is twenty-two years old now. May God bless you. If you will only help me find him, and find out what can be done to get him free! We are very poor, and this is a backwoods country. Money is hard to get. But if I can find my boy, and can do anything in the world to help him, I will do it. Please answer my letter. God help you and bless you in your work.

I answered her letter immediately, and told her that I would try to find her boy; and from the poor suffering soul I received the following letter. Read it:—

MY DEAR MRS. CARMICHAEL: I received your letter yesterday evening. I wish I could find words to tell you what a pleasure it was to get your letter. I shed the first tears that I had shed in a long time. For several months I could only wring my hands and groan. I had tried to pray, but it seemed as if something came between me and my God. I have sat up in bed, and held my hands up toward heaven through the darkest hours of the night, but I could think of no words to say. After I read the words of sympathy you wrote me, I cried and cried, and I feel better. I feel relieved. Last night I got down on my knees, and prayed with all my heart for strength and knowledge to do God’s will.

My poor boy never had any opportunity to get an education; but he knew how to work, and was not afraid to work. I hate to tell you—but his papa was not good to him. He is not good to any of us. He does not believe the Bible. And I have been a coward. I would always whisper my prayer so that he could not hear it. When putting my children to bed, I heard them say their prayers in a whisper.

O my precious, darling boy! I did hope so much from him. If he had stayed at home, I am sure he would never have been in any trouble. If you ever find him, and let him know that you are his friend, I believe that he will talk to you about us. Oh, please tell him that you have heard from his mama and his little brothers and sister. Tell him — is a big boy now; and little — talks of him every day, and says he loves him and mama best of all yet. And if you find him, I will send you our pictures, for you to give to him. Oh, I pray and pray. His heart is not hardened. He was good and kind and such a comfort—but, poor boy! he had much to bear.

I know God does all things well. If my boy could come home a Christian, true and brave, I could stand anything, I would be so happy.

I fear I am wearying you, but your letter was such a comfort to me. I feel as if I was talking to a friend; and when I read the words in your letter, that you are my boy’s friend, firm and true, I shed tears of joy. I have felt that he was lost, and I could do nothing. Thank you a thousand times for your kindness. And I hope you will still remember me and my boy in your prayers.

Sometimes I feel that I will not live long, but it seems as if I can not give up and leave my boy in prison. When he is free, that will be the happiest day in my life, if I live that long.

Your letter has cheered me more than anything for many years. Oh, if I had a kind sister near me to give me advice! I believe you will find my boy, and you will talk kindly to him, and tell him to write to his mama. And I will pray every day that you may have peace and happiness while on earth, if it is denied me. Please write to me as soon as you can give me any information concerning my boy.

Having read this poor mother’s letter to me, I know your hearts ache, and your tears flow; and as you look upon the faces of your own little innocent darlings as they lie sleeping safe in the home nest, you will pray for her and her son. But for how long a time are your sons thus secure? O my sisters, do you realize how Satan is striving to snatch our boys from us?

Merciful Father, save! Help us to work as well as pray. I realize as never before what a great responsibility it is to be the mother, and especially in a divided household, of a growing son. Mothers, let us pray, at some stated hour of the day, for our own and one another’s sons.

Do not think that I do not love the girls, too. But it seems as if much more is being done to save our girls than to save our boys. And if there are pure, noble boys, there will surely be pure, noble girls.

I could go among the prisoners of this State, lecture, read, weep, and pray with them, if I had money, and consecrated help in my home. But I have not the money to devote to this purpose, nor the help at home. I can only send out the printed page (which is doubtless more effectual), and water the seed with my tears, and follow it with my prayers. Let any who have money to give send it to my address, given below.

By the blessing of God, I found this poor mother’s boy. But oh, it was painful to be obliged to convey to her the word that he is in prison under sentence for eight years, with no hope of clemency; because he had escaped once, and had been recaptured.

Mothers, I leave you to imagine that poor heartbroken mother’s sorrow when I passed on to her this sad confirmation of her fears. The news may have proved fatal. I have not heard from her since. I hesitated a while before sending her the letters received from the prison authorities: but she had to know. We can all pray the Lord to comfort and sustain her.

I shall write to the boy, and try to reach him. I hope every mother who reads the REVIEW will pray for him.

IDA CARMICHAEL.

Keene, Tex.