Rev. “Billy” Sunday (as he is familiarly known) was born in a log cabin in the backwoods of Story County, Iowa, November 19, 1862. Not long after his birth his father went to the Civil War and never returned. Billy remained home until he was about fourteen years of age, and as a hired hand later lived with Colonel John Scott, former Lieutenant Governor of Iowa, and was enabled to acquire a high-school education. He tried various lines of work, from a hired hand at sixteen years old to a furniture polisher, driver of a hearse, member of a volunteer hose company, railroad fireman, ball player, student and now evangelist. MR. SUNDAY’S REMARKABLE CONVERSION. “Twenty-seven years ago I walked down a street in Chicago in company with some ball players who were famous in this world—some of them are dead now—and we went into a saloon. It was Sunday afternoon and we got tanked up and then went and sat down on a corner. I never go by that street without thanking God for saving me. It was a vacant lot at that time. We sat down on a curbing. Across the street a company of men and women were playing on instruments—horns, flutes and slide trombones—and the others were singing the gospel hymns that I used to hear my mother sing back in the log cabin in Iowa and back in the old church where I used to go to Sunday school. “And God painted on the canvas of my recollection and memory a vivid picture of the scenes of other days and other faces.” “WON’T YOU COME?” “Many have long since turned to dust. I sobbed and sobbed and a young man stepped out and said: ‘We are going down to the Pacific Garden mission. Won’t you come down to the mission? I am sure you will enjoy it. You can hear drunkards tell how they have been saved and girls tell how they have been saved from the red light district. I arose and said to the boys: “I’m through. We’ve come to the parting of the ways,” and I turned my back on them. Some of them laughed and some of them mocked me; one of them gave me encouragement; others never said a word. Twenty-seven years ago I turned and left that little group on the corner of State and Madison streets, walked to the little mission, fell on my knees and staggered out of sin and into the arms of the Saviour. I went over to the west side of Chicago where I was keeping company with a girl now my wife, Nell. I married Nell. She was a Presbyterian, so I am a Presbyterian. Had she been a Catholic, I would have been a Catholic—because I was hot on the trail of Nell. The next day I had to go out to the ball park and practice. Every morning at 10 o’clock we had to be out there and practice. I never slept that night. I was afraid of the horse-laugh that the gang would give me because I had taken my stand for Jesus Christ. I walked down to the old ball grounds. I will never forget it. I slipped my key into the wicket gate and the first man to meet me after I got inside was Mike Kelley.