Dave Ranney; or, Thirty Years on the Bowery

Honest endeavor is ne'er thrown away; God gathers the failures day by day, And weaves them into His perfect plan In ways that are not for us to scan.

--Lucy Whittemore Myrick, 1876.

INTRODUCTION

The autobiography which this book contains is that of a man who through the wonderful dealings of Providence has had a most remarkable experience. I have known the writer for about seventeen years, and always most favorably. For a number of years past he has been Bowery Missionary for the New York City Mission and Tract Society, and has shown himself faithful, capable and conscientious. His story simply illustrates how the gospel of the grace of God can go down as far as man can fall, and can uplift, purify, and beautify that which was degraded and "well nigh unto cursing."

As a testimony as to what God can work, and how He can transform a man from being a curse to himself and to the world into being a blessing, the story is certainly fascinating, and ought to encourage any who have lost hope to turn to Him who alone is able to save. It ought also to encourage all workers for the downfallen to realize that God is able to save unto the uttermost all who come to Him through Jesus Christ, the all-sufficient Saviour.

With confidence I recommend this book to those who are interested in the rescue of the fallen, knowing that they will praise God for what has been wrought and will trust Him for future wonderful redemptions.

A. F. SCHAUFFLER.

New York City.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I. BOYHOOD DAYS II. FIRST STEPS IN CRIME III. INTO THE DEPTHS IV. "SAVED BY GRACE" V. ON THE UP GRADE VI. PROMOTED VII. THE MISSION IN CHINATOWN VIII. BOWERY WORK IX. PRODIGAL SONS

"Let me live in a house by the side of the road, Where the race of men go by. Men that are good and men that are bad, as good and as bad as I. I would not sit in the scorner's seat, Nor hurl the cynic's ban. Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man."

CHAPTER I

BOYHOOD DAYS

I have often been asked the question, "Why don't you write a book?" And I have said, "What is the use? What good will it do?" I have thought about it time and time again, and have come to the conclusion to write a story of my life, the good and the bad, and if the story will be a help, and check some one that's just going wrong, set him thinking, and point him on the right road, praise God!

I was born in Hudson City, N. J., over forty years ago, when there were not as many houses in that town as there are now. I was born in old Dutch Row, now called Beacon Avenue, in a two-story frame house. In those days there was an Irish Row and a Dutch Row. The Irish lived by themselves, and the Dutch by themselves.

Quite frequently the boys of the two colonies would have a battle royal, and there would be things doing. Sometimes the Dutch would win out, sometimes the Irish, and many's the time there was a cut head and other bruises. Sometimes a prisoner would be taken, and then we would play Indian with him, and do everything with him except burn him. We were all boys born in America, but if we lived in Dutch Row, why, we had to be Dutch; but if, on the other hand, we happened to live in Irish Row, we had to be Irish. I remember moving one time to Irish Row, and I wondered what would happen when I went to play with the old crowd. They said, "Go and stay with the Irish." I did not know what to do. I would not fight my old comrades, so I was neutral and fought with neither.