BENDIGO'S CONVERSION.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume X, Issue 37, 12 February 1875, Page 4

BENDIGO'S CONVERSION.

The renowned prize fighter " Bendigo," whose name is really William Thompson, and who is now devoting bis time to preaching, has been interviewedby a correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, who gives the following account of "BendyV- conversion. It appears that Bendigo was committed to prison at Nottingham for assaulting the police, and twice on Sunday had to go to chapel: — I didn't care much (says he) for listening to such things in general, but somehow this Sunday I did. When I Bay somehow, I mean to say I couldn't but do it. It was just in my line. It was about the set to between David and Golintb. And when the parson began to talk about the big 'va — how tall he was, and how broad and strong — T was all the time picturing him. as being a man after the style of the big 'un I had fought three times—^-Ben Gaunt that was — and wondering how I ehdnld have got on in a stand up with Goliath. Well, the pareon went on and told us about the little 'vn — about David, and about bis pluck in facing the giant, though he had only a sling and a stone to tackle him with. When he came to describe the fight I listened with all my might, quite lost myself listening; and when it came to the wind up and David floored the giant, and killed him, without thinking that I was iv chapel, and that it was against the rules to say a word, I bawls out, " Bravo! I'm glad the little 'un won." It was very wrong, and, what made it worse for me, all the prisoners and the warders burst out laughing. The parson he turned aWay, but I could tell by the move of his' shoulders that he was laughing too, which, perhaps, made it a little better. They thought it was a joke of mine, but it wasn't. I took it too serious for joking, and when I. got to my cell and was quiet, I kept think»ing about it, and about how somebody must have helped little David to lick the giant with his sword and armour, and about them old times when I used to ask that I might win the fight, that I might keep my old mother out of the workhouse. Well, it was as singular as though it was done on purpose. The very next Sunday the parson preached another sermon which seemed hitting at me harder than the one the week before. It was all about the three men, Shadracb, Meehech, and B^odigo, who was cast into the fiery furnace, and who was saved by the LorbvVrtDm being burnt. Oh, yes, I've heard t|at since; it wasn't exactly Bendigo who was the third man: but the hatne sounded like it to me, and I took it as such, though I didn't say anythingfvto anybody. "If one Bendigo can be saved, why not

another?" I sail] to myself, and I thought, about it a great deal more thnn anybody there thought, I'll wager. If I'd have (old 'em I might have thought that the Bermons was got up for me. It really seemed so. Sunday j afier Sunday I looked out for some-/ thing about me in the sermon, and thore it always was was. After thk one about the fiery furnace, canae one akout the twelve fishermen. Now, lym a fisherman myself. Bless you! I should rnther think that I was, one of/lhe best in England. I've won lots of prizes, and got a fishing rod that/Mr Walters, of the Times, gave me. Well, after that come another sermon about the seven hundred left-handed men in the Hook of Judges; auJ I am | lefthanded man. Of course I am. It was that beat the knowing ones I have had to staud up against. Well, it was this always going on that made me make up my mind to .turn as soon as ever II got out- I \£t was on a Thursday, and In the winter, and when I was let out of the 'gaol door there was my old rriends kindly come to meet me. 4 Come along, Bendy, old boy," they! said, " we've got something to eat am something to eat for you all ready, come - along," but I had made up my . mind, ami wasnVto be shook; so I turned around, nnd I see, •' Look her e, '. never will eat or drink along with pou or along with any man in a public [house again as long as I live. I hava done with it." They looked at each] other I can tell you. They couldn't make it oot. But there was one man amongst 'em named Wafers, and heT said, "Bendy, will you come along witn me? I'm going to Beeston." And I Iknew if I went with him I should pc all rights/and I went. And there I met another friend who wished me'Twell, and said he, "Bendy, what do you say to coming to the Hall to night to pear Undaunted Dick ?" " Who's lfe ?" says I; "I never heard of him." "It's Dick Weaver," says he, "a collier cHtep thnt was once in a bad way, but who\^ now converted and turned prefysher/V " Ay," said I, " I'll go ami hear* him "; he's one of my own sort jjk and I went, and I set on the platform? and there I could hear 'em : " Why, how's this ? There's Bendigo up there;" "Look, look, there's old Bendy." But I took no notice ; only sat quiet and listened. Well, next night I was there again, and heard what did me good more than / ever. It was bad weather, and snow-/ ing hard, and I had to make ray way/ home late at night across a park ; ana when I was half way across I couldn't hold out any loDger. So in the darß, and with the snow coming down, fT went on my kneeß and prayed ob well as I knowed how, and when I got upll felt a new man. 1 didn't quite Jo without ale; I had one half-pint between then and Sunday, and then 1 1 went to the chapel again and on to uhe platform, and, in the face of everybody j who was there, I knelt down and tLld 'em how I was changed, and how tmat nothing should tempt me to go wrbng again, and I've kept my word, add I ! mean to go on keeping it. Ever since that time not a drop of tner or spirits has passed my Jips, and J never jfelt healthier, or stronger, or more lipely than Ido now. I've tried the right road now for two years, but I ain't much of a hand at preaching as vet, because I can't read ; but I'm learniW as fast as I can, and then I shall get on better.