I was on my way from New York to Boston. The Ticket Agent in the Central station informed me that it cost seven dollars to go on the Express
which left at 10 oclock. I gave him the money and he handed me a ticket.
Boarding the train which consisted of five or six-coaches, I took a seat,
deposited my valise, and pulled out a book to read.
As we left the depot the Conductor came down the aisle collecting fares,
and pausing where I was sitting absorbed in my volume, nudged me in the
side with his hand and asked for the money due the Company.
I presented him my ticket, which he took and kept, and gave me a red
check which I slipped in my hat band, placed in the rack above my head,
and resumed my reading.
As the train was a Flyer, it made only six or seven stops between New
York and Boston. The first was thirty miles distant, where on arrival, a
number of the passengers got off, and a number of others got on. After a
little the Conductor came down the aisle as before, collecting tickets, and
stopping by my side where I was buried in my book, and not
remembering me in such a crowd, poked me in the side again and
demanded my fare.
I lifted my eyes from the volume I was reading, directed my finger at the
red check without saying a word, and instantly he passed on.
The same scene occurred at the second and third town, where quite a
crowd disembarked and an equally large one came aboard. Down the aisle
again came the collector of tickets; again failed to recognize me in the
throng; once more punched me in the ribs, and once more with his dry
machine-like voice said, Tickets!
Each time I would raise my eyes, motion to the red sign in my hat, to see
him just as quickly leave me, pass on by and vanish down the car.
Finally with the fourth stop, and the usual change of passengers, the
conductor approached as usual, paused by me, touched me on the side,
and said, Tickets.
By this time I was becoming wearied of that conductor, and my side was
getting sensitive and sore where he had punched me so often, and then I
was interested in my book anyhow. So when I felt his shadow fall on me,
I never raised my eyes from the printed page, but simply pointed with
my finger towards the red check in my hat and kept on reading.
In an instant he was gone!
After that the identical proceeding worked like a charm. No machinery
oiled and regulated could have done better. The man would come, stop,
punch me, say Tickets! and I would read on, point upward at the red
check with my finger, and then he would disappear like a flash! He had to
go! I had the red sign which said I was paid up, was all right with the R.
R. Company and could go on unmolested and protected to the end of my
journey.
It seemed to me at this very time, that the above incident gave me a better
conception and understanding of a certain verse in the Old Testament than
I ever had before. The passage referred to is: When I see the Blood I will
pass over you.
The Devil is always after us with his nagging voice and irritating touch.
Over and over he stops by our side and tries to collect tears, sighs, groans
and everything else he can wring from us on our trip from Earth to
Heaven.
But if we have the Blood of Christ on our souls we are exempt and secure.
We need not be vexed, disturbed or affrighted at the worrying demands of
men or every devil in Hell.
All we have to do is to quietly, smilingly and persistently point to the
Blood of Jesus that was shed! To the Red Sign on our Heart! And keep
on reading our title clear to Mansions in the Skies! when behold! Every
foe of earth and imp in Hell must pass on and by us, and we in due time,
safe and sound, will sweep triumphantly and exultantly into the great
Union Depot of Gods Eternal City in the Heavens.
Living Illustrations By B. Carradine.
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