“Are you a doctor?” said a tall, slender, sic-footer to me on December 2nd, 1915. My answer was, “A doctor? – No! I am better than a doctor for your case.” “Texas,” as we called him for a long time, replied, “I think you are a fool.” “You hit it right the first shot, Old Top,” was my reply, while we shook hands and from then on became fast friends.
The third night, when the alter call was given, “Texas” arose from his seat and at the altar, found his Saviour. First, a laborer’s job. Next, we found him all dressed up and working as a collector for a furniture store; and two years later, president of a concern.
We missed our friend for a few years and were surprised one day when an automobile stopped at the door and “Texas,” with his wife, who, by the way, he met at one of the Mission services, paid us a visit. God has blessed them in a spiritual way, and the material things of life came, too.
He had just returned from a visit to his home city in Texas where he had visited his old father (who had prayed for him through the years) and so arranged his finances that he need not worry for the balance of his life. We were informed that this man and his wife were on their way to Hyattsville, MD to visit her mother and see that she be taken care of in a financial way. “Texas” is no longer known by that name, even around the Mission. He visits us once a year and finds that it pays to serve God.