LONELY CABIN ON THE FORTY-MILE11/3/2016 123
by Joseph Conlee
, LONELY CABIN ON THE
FORTY-MILE
By: Joseph Conlee
During the Alaska gold
rush in the late 1800’s,
I was sent to an old,
remote cabin to keep
watch on the property.
Gold had been discovered
nearby, and I was hired
to make certain no one
jumped the claim.
My pay for staying in the
cabin that winter was
plenty of free grub
and all the whiskey I
could drink! I couldn’t
make it a day without
whiskey and now I had all
I could drink, for a
whole winter.
But as the days passed, I
grew lonely. I found
myself missing my wife
and little daughter.
Prior to my leaving for
Alaska, they had seen me
off. My darling daughter
had put a little medicine
kit inside the
trunk packed for me, and
inside the kit was a
small Bible. I
remembered her last
words, “I wouldn’t give
this little book to
anyone
in the world but you,
Daddy. You read it,
okay?”
I didn’t want to hurt her
feelings, but I wasn’t
going to read her
Bible. So the Bible lay
safely tucked away in the
trunk in the corner
of the cabin.
As loneliness ate away at
me, one day an unexpected
knock came on the
cabin door. There stood a
man cold and hungry. I
eagerly invited him
in. “There’s plenty of
food and whiskey for both
of us!” I said.
His name was Jimmy
Miller. The two of us
drank ourselves to sleep
every night, hooting and
hollering as the snow
piled high outside.
Two weeks later another
knock came at the door. A
Mr. Wally Flett
entered. When he saw the
whiskey, his mouth
watered, and I invited
him
to join us.
Night after night the
three of us got roaring
drunk, only to numb our
pounding heads the next
morning with more
whiskey.
Winter hung on. Three
different times we made
trips to Dawson for more
whiskey and grub. We
drank so much that we
began to experience
delirium tremens.
One night Jimmie Miller
had severe delirium
tremens and a fever. In
great agony he cried,
“Get me a doctor! Don’t
let me lie here and
die!”
But we were 40 miles from
Dawson City. It was 40
below zero and the
snow was deep. Then I
remembered the little
medicine kit in the old
trunk. When I opened it,
out fell the little black
book onto the floor
my daughter had given me.
“It’s that Bible, curse
it!” I said, as I walked
over to the stove to
burn it.
“Don’t throw it in!”
Wally shouted. “Don’t you
know we haven’t a thing
to read in this
godforsaken country? The
only magazine we have -
I’ve
read 20 times!” and he
snatched the Bible from
my hand.
“If you want to read it,
go ahead, but I won’t!” I
exclaimed.
Wally spotted some
handwriting on one of the
blank pages, and read it
out loud. “To my darling
Daddy. With love,
Florence.”
Suddenly hearing those
words -- not knowing she
had written them; now
I was glad I hadn’t
burned the Bible . . .
but I didn’t tell them.
Jimmy began to get
better. As he was
recuperating, he started
to read
the Bible out loud. I’d
yell, “Shut up!” but
Wally was interested. He
would say, “What was that
you read, Jimmie?” Then
Jimmy would read it
again.
Wally would say, “I had
no idea there were things
like that in the
Bible. What do you say we
keep reading it just to
pass the time away?
Not to believe it, mind
you. Joe was a Pastor
once, you know? He says
Pastors are fools.”
I was outnumbered. We
were all bored, so we
took turns reading.
What we didn’t realize at
first was the change
coming over the lonely
cabin on the Forty-Mile.
The whiskey barrel was
going down more
slowly. Some days, five,
six, and even seven
chapters were read from
the Bible.
One day Wally said, “Have
you two noticed a change
coming over us? I
haven’t heard swearing
now for three or four
days. I wonder if it’s
the Bible reading that’s
been doing it?”
January came. Boredom
continued. Then came
February 14. It was
Wally’s
turn to read scriptures:
Let not your heart be
troubled. You believe in
God, believe also in
me. In my Father’s house
are many mansions: if it
were not so I would
have told you. I go to
prepare a place for you.”
(John 14:2)
Suddenly I couldn’t hold
it any longer. I began to
sob.
“What’s the matter with
you, Joe?” asked Wally
and Jimmy.
“Just keep on reading,” I
said. “I was just
thinking about my little
girl. I am not crying
because of that Bible,” I
lied.
There was a moment of
silence, and then a
confession broke forth
from
Wally’s lips. “You know,
for the last five days
I’ve been wanting to
pray, and I was scared
you fellows would laugh
at me, but I’m not
scared anymore. I’m going
to pray.”
In a shaken voice, I
spoke, “Well ... since
you have committed
yourself, I will tell you
my heart has been
breaking for the last
week. I’ve been hearing
my mother pray for me,
and she’s been dead for
years! How about you,
Jimmy?”
“If you fellows want to
pray, I’ll pray with
you,” answered Jimmy.
The little holy Bible had
worked its wonder in each
of us.
We three drunken soaks in
the lonely cabin on the
Forty-Mile got down
on our knees. Our prayers
rose higher and higher.
Suddenly Wally
jumped up on his feet and
started shouting,
“Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Jesus heard me!”
While he was shouting, up
jumped Jimmie Miller, and
I followed. Then
all three of us started
jumping up and down,
shouting glory and
praises to God!
It was two o’clock that
morning when we ended our
praying and
praising. Then we
destroyed the whiskey
barrel with a hatchet and
let
the whiskey run in the
snow.
That night, Jimmy, Wally
and I were born again
spiritually by the
Spirit of God. The Holy
Spirit had been working
in our hearts as the
scriptures had been read,
until it was time for God
to birth us into
the Kingdom of His Son
(Col. 1:13-14).
Months later, God called
me back into the ministry
as a Pastor again,
and Jimmy and Wally were
also called of God to
serve as Pastors. By:
Joseph Conlee
During the Alaska gold
rush in the late 1800’s,
I was sent to an old,
remote cabin to keep
watch on the property.
Gold had been discovered
nearby, and I was hired
to make certain no one
jumped the claim.
My pay for staying in the
cabin that winter was
plenty of free grub
and all the whiskey I
could drink! I couldn’t
make it a day without
whiskey and now I had all
I could drink, for a
whole winter.
But as the days passed, I
grew lonely. I found
myself missing my wife
and little daughter.
Prior to my leaving for
Alaska, they had seen me
off. My darling daughter
had put a little medicine
kit inside the
trunk packed for me, and
inside the kit was a
small Bible. I
remembered her last
words, “I wouldn’t give
this little book to
anyone
in the world but you,
Daddy. You read it,
okay?”
I didn’t want to hurt her
feelings, but I wasn’t
going to read her
Bible. So the Bible lay
safely tucked away in the
trunk in the corner
of the cabin.
As loneliness ate away at
me, one day an unexpected
knock came on the
cabin door. There stood a
man cold and hungry. I
eagerly invited him
in. “There’s plenty of
food and whiskey for both
of us!” I said.
His name was Jimmy
Miller. The two of us
drank ourselves to sleep
every night, hooting and
hollering as the snow
piled high outside.
Two weeks later another
knock came at the door. A
Mr. Wally Flett
entered. When he saw the
whiskey, his mouth
watered, and I invited
him
to join us.
Night after night the
three of us got roaring
drunk, only to numb our
pounding heads the next
morning with more
whiskey.
Winter hung on. Three
different times we made
trips to Dawson for more
whiskey and grub. We
drank so much that we
began to experience
delirium tremens.
One night Jimmie Miller
had severe delirium
tremens and a fever. In
great agony he cried,
“Get me a doctor! Don’t
let me lie here and
die!”
But we were 40 miles from
Dawson City. It was 40
below zero and the
snow was deep. Then I
remembered the little
medicine kit in the old
trunk. When I opened it,
out fell the little black
book onto the floor
my daughter had given me.
“It’s that Bible, curse
it!” I said, as I walked
over to the stove to
burn it.
“Don’t throw it in!”
Wally shouted. “Don’t you
know we haven’t a thing
to read in this
godforsaken country? The
only magazine we have -
I’ve
read 20 times!” and he
snatched the Bible from
my hand.
“If you want to read it,
go ahead, but I won’t!” I
exclaimed.
Wally spotted some
handwriting on one of the
blank pages, and read it
out loud. “To my darling
Daddy. With love,
Florence.”
Suddenly hearing those
words -- not knowing she
had written them; now
I was glad I hadn’t
burned the Bible . . .
but I didn’t tell them.
Jimmy began to get
better. As he was
recuperating, he started
to read
the Bible out loud. I’d
yell, “Shut up!” but
Wally was interested. He
would say, “What was that
you read, Jimmie?” Then
Jimmy would read it
again.
Wally would say, “I had
no idea there were things
like that in the
Bible. What do you say we
keep reading it just to
pass the time away?
Not to believe it, mind
you. Joe was a Pastor
once, you know? He says
Pastors are fools.”
I was outnumbered. We
were all bored, so we
took turns reading.
What we didn’t realize at
first was the change
coming over the lonely
cabin on the Forty-Mile.
The whiskey barrel was
going down more
slowly. Some days, five,
six, and even seven
chapters were read from
the Bible.
One day Wally said, “Have
you two noticed a change
coming over us? I
haven’t heard swearing
now for three or four
days. I wonder if it’s
the Bible reading that’s
been doing it?”
January came. Boredom
continued. Then came
February 14. It was
Wally’s
turn to read scriptures:
Let not your heart be
troubled. You believe in
God, believe also in
me. In my Father’s house
are many mansions: if it
were not so I would
have told you. I go to
prepare a place for you.”
(John 14:2)
Suddenly I couldn’t hold
it any longer. I began to
sob.
“What’s the matter with
you, Joe?” asked Wally
and Jimmy.
“Just keep on reading,” I
said. “I was just
thinking about my little
girl. I am not crying
because of that Bible,” I
lied.
There was a moment of
silence, and then a
confession broke forth
from
Wally’s lips. “You know,
for the last five days
I’ve been wanting to
pray, and I was scared
you fellows would laugh
at me, but I’m not
scared anymore. I’m going
to pray.”
In a shaken voice, I
spoke, “Well ... since
you have committed
yourself, I will tell you
my heart has been
breaking for the last
week. I’ve been hearing
my mother pray for me,
and she’s been dead for
years! How about you,
Jimmy?”
“If you fellows want to
pray, I’ll pray with
you,” answered Jimmy.
The little holy Bible had
worked its wonder in each
of us.
We three drunken soaks in
the lonely cabin on the
Forty-Mile got down
on our knees. Our prayers
rose higher and higher.
Suddenly Wally
jumped up on his feet and
started shouting,
“Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Jesus heard me!”
While he was shouting, up
jumped Jimmie Miller, and
I followed. Then
all three of us started
jumping up and down,
shouting glory and
praises to God!
It was two o’clock that
morning when we ended our
praying and
praising. Then we
destroyed the whiskey
barrel with a hatchet and
let
the whiskey run in the
snow.
That night, Jimmy, Wally
and I were born again
spiritually by the
Spirit of God. The Holy
Spirit had been working
in our hearts as the
scriptures had been read,
until it was time for God
to birth us into
the Kingdom of His Son
(Col. 1:13-14).
Months later, God called
me back into the ministry
as a Pastor again,
and Jimmy and Wally were
also called of God to
serve as Pastors. Note
- A number of different
sources has printed
copies of this testimony
over the years and gave
them out as tracts, it so
seems. We no longer
have the copy we used to
post this to the website,
so it is now
impossible for us to know
from WHAT exact
publishing source it came
from. A Pastor Burt
Evans gave me a copy of
the tract around 1982 and
I tucked it away for
years until we started
this website in 1998.
There is a possibility
that a Dr. Charles S.
Price may well be the
original author of the
tract, and not Joseph
Conlee. Nevertheless,
the testimony is true,
which is what matters the
most, and God is
still using it many years
later. Norm Rasmussen
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