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Updated: June 10, 2025
A Mr. Hiram Ranney, from the Brock district, contributed a monster cheese, weighing 7 cwt., not made of "double skimmed sky-blue," but of milk of the richest quality, which, from its size and appearance, might have feasted all the rats and mice in the province for the next twelve months.
I went over where he was sitting and while shaking hands with him said, "Say, that was the grandest act you ever did when you gave that man your coat. What did you do it for? You don't seem to have any too much of this world's goods. How did it happen? Are you a Christian? Who are you?" He looked at me a moment and said, "Mr. Ranney, if I can go into your office I'll tell you all about it."
I had the pleasure of eating dinner in their home. I often get a letter from Jim, telling of God's goodness. He says he will never forget the fight he made for the pants or his friend Danny Ranney. The Bowery has always been a notorious thoroughfare. Twenty years ago there were few places in the world that for crime, vice and degradation could be compared with it.
It struck me as being queer in this way; the man who under God was the means of my salvation, who was a missionary when I was converted, had resigned a few years after to become a minister, and now here was Ranney, the ex-crook and drunk, being asked to take the same position!
He was then asked what defects in pleading would be cured by a general verdict? and gave the rules quite luminously. Ranney then asked him what books he had read; and Bart named several. "What others?" and he named as many more. "Is that all?" laughing. "Oh!" said Bart, "I remember what you and Henry said about my reading, and really I have dipped into a good many besides."
The tears would come to his eyes and he would say, "Oh, if I ever go home I'll be such a different boy! Do you think father will forgive me, Mr. Ranney?" Well, eight months went on, and I thought it was time to get him off the Bowery he had had his lesson. So I wrote his father, and he sent the necessary cash for clothes, railroad ticket, etc.
I brought him over and got him to sit down in that old chair where so many confessions are made to me and said kindly, "Well, what's your story?" I thought of my own boy, and my heart went out to this young fellow. He said, "You are Mr. Ranney. I've often heard about you, and I'm glad to see you now." He told me how he had given up his job on Eighth Avenue around 125th Street the day before.
Within less than a week the trial was concluded, a verdict of guilty was brought in, and the prisoner sentenced to a ten years' term of imprisonment. Dick Ranney heard the sentence with philosophical calmness. "My good friend," said the professor, "I trust that in your long years of confinement you will reflect upon " "Don't worry about that," interrupted Dick.
"I was taken to the lockup, Colonel Owen," said Walter, "but about midnight a lynching party broke it open and took me out. "But I made an appeal to my captors, and was able to prove to them I received a reward not long since for the capture of the famous outlaw, Dick Ranney." Colonel Owen sank into a chair. "I never heard the like!" he was heard to say.
It so chanced that Stilwell was the county seat and court was in session at that time, and nearly ready to wind up its business. It was owing to this circumstance that the trial of Dick Ranney was held at once. By request Walter and the professor remained to bear testimony against the prisoner, and Manning also strengthened the case against him.
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