Autobiography of Frank G. Allen, Minister of the Gospel

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Title: Autobiography of Frank G. Allen, Minister of the Gospel

Author: F. G. Allen

Editor: Robert Graham

Release date: June 30, 2008 [eBook #25941]
Most recently updated: January 3, 2021

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANK G. ALLEN, MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL ***

Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Kentuckiana Digital Library)

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

FRANK G. ALLEN,

Minister of the Gospel

AND

SELECTIONS FROM HIS WRITINGS

EDITED BY

ROBERT GRAHAM

_President of the College of the Bible, Lexington, Ky._

CINCINNATI
GUIDE PRINTING & PUBLISHING CO.
1887

Dedication.

To all who love the Old Paths,
This Volume,
In Memory of One Who Found Them
And Walked Therein,
Is Respectfully Inscribed, by
The Editor.

PREFACE.

By prescription, which often has the force of law, a book should have
both a _Preface_ and an _Introduction_: the first relating to the
writer; the second to the things written. I may well dispense with the
latter, for what is here written the humblest capacity can understand;
and it would be cruel to detain him long on the porch who is anxious to
enter the building.

But, dear reader, a word with you (for that is the meaning of
"Preface") before you begin this unpretentious little book, the joint
production of an author, an editor, and a publisher.

It is due the first, to say that he wrote what is here called his
Autobiography in great physical weakness, and without expecting that it
would appear in this form. This will account for its homely garb, and
apologize for it, if apology be necessary. Frank Allen had no time to
spend upon mere style in anything he wrote. He aimed at clearness and
force of expression, and reached these in a remarkable degree in his
latter days. If any one, therefore, should take up this volume
expecting to find literary entertainment, he will have the search for
his pains; but if he seeks for what is far better, the secret of a life
devoted to God and goodness, told in plain, unvarnished English, he
will not be disappointed.

When I received from the gifted author the record of his "travel's
history," I intended to write his Life, but death came and found us,
not him, unprepared; and so, under the constraint of other and pressing
duties, my purpose was reluctantly abandoned. Besides, upon examination
it was found that with a few changes and additions here and there,
these memoranda, as they came from the hand of their author, could,
under the circumstances, appear in that form and do him no discredit.

Such is my admiration of this noble man, and such my deference to what
I am sure must be the desire of his friends, that I have preferred to
let _him_ tell in simple phrase the strange story of his struggles and
triumphs; and if its perusal should give the reader half the pleasure
it has been to me to prepare it for the press, I shall not have labored
in vain. The book is intended to be a _Memorial Volume_, and especially
one to encourage young men who, under adverse circumstances, are
striving to qualify themselves to preach the gospel. Bro. Allen was
always in warm and loving sympathy with these--so much so, that he was
rightly called the young preacher's friend.

It is a pleasure to say that such is the veneration of the publishers,
The Guide Printing and Publishing Company, for the memory of our
deceased brother, that but for them this tribute would hardly have
appeared. With a generosity as rare as it is praiseworthy, they have
undertaken to publish the work in the best style of their art, at a low
price, and without any pecuniary risk to Sister Allen; and, indeed, in
all their transactions with her they have given abundant proof that men
can carry into business the benevolent spirit of pure and undefiled
religion.

It only remains to be said that whatever profits arise from the sale of
this book go to the wife and children of its lamented author, and that
should sufficient encouragement be given, a companion volume containing
the letters and miscellaneous productions of Bro. Allen may in due time
be issued.

THE EDITOR.

LEXINGTON, Ky., May, 1887.

CONTENTS.

Page.

PART I.--AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

CHAPTER I.

Birth and Ancestors. Family Circumstances. "Fist and Skull"
Entertainment. Removal to Ohio and Return. Fight with his Mother.
Gets Lost. His Father Buys a Farm. The "Improvements." Plenty of
Hard Work. His Opinion of Work and of Play. 1

CHAPTER II.

His First School. The School-house. The Teacher. The Order of
Reciting. Spelling Matches. First Sweetheart. Extremes in Likes
and Dislikes. Fondness for Study. Improvement in Schools. 7

CHAPTER III.

His Religious Experience. Tries to be a Methodist. Hopes to Become
a Preacher. Boy Preaching. Attends a Sunday-school. "Chaws" Tobacco.
Goes to Love Feast. Mourners' Bench Experience. Is Puzzled and
Disgusted. 12

CHAPTER IV.

Fun and Mischief. His Little Cousin and the "Gnats." The Aurora
Borealis. A Bumble-bee Scrape. Another Bee Scrape. Justification by
Faith Alone. Readiness to Fight. Love of Justice. No Surrender. 17

CHAPTER V.

Given to Abstraction of Thought. Cases in Point. Opinion of
Debating Societies. Perseverance. Consumption. Endurance. More
Comfortable Home. Death of his Father. Love of Fashionable
Amusements. Meets his Future Wife. Is Married. Tribute to his
Wife. Her Father and Mother. 25

CHAPTER VI.

Goes to Housekeeping. Discussions with Mr. Maddox. Attends Meeting.
Is Baptized by William Tharp. Double Damages for an Old Horse.
Begins Trading. Moves to Floydsburg. Description of the Place. 31

CHAPTER VII.

Tries to Become a Politician. Fails. Last Act as a Politician.
Tries to Join the Southern Army. Fails Again. His First
Appointment. Feeling of Responsibility. His Plan. Text. Analysis
of Sermon. Buys a Family Bible. Rules of Life. 36

CHAPTER VIII.

Resolves to go to College. Friends Oppose. Wife Decides It. Hard
Living and Hard Work. Impaired Health. Preaches for his Home
Church. Father-in-law Dies. "Frank, Be a True Man." House Robbed.
"Scraps." College Incidents. First Pay for Preaching. Holds Several
Meetings. Dishonest Preacher. 43

CHAPTER IX.

Leaves College. Goes to Alexandria, Ky. An Adventure in Ohio. A
Baby _not_ Baptized. Peril in Crossing the River. Opens his School.
Makes Some Money. Buys a Nice Home. 52

CHAPTER X.

Narrow Escapes. Is Thrown from a Horse. Has Pneumonia. Nearly
Killed. Self-possession. Almost Drowned. Eludes Angry Soldiers.
Reflections. 58

CHAPTER XI.

He Abandons the School-room. Remarkable Meeting near Alexandria.
Incidents. Establishes a Church. Mischief-making Preachers.
Long and Severe Attack of Typhoid Fever. Does not Lose Hope.
Gratitude. 65

CHAPTER XII.

Sells out at Alexandria. Moves to Crittenden. Preaches there and at
Williamstown. Low State of these Churches. Plan of Work. Memorizing
in Sunday-school. Lack of Church Discipline. One-Man System. Moves
to New Liberty. Visits Mount Byrd 71

CHAPTER XIII.

History of the Mt. Byrd Church. When Established. Where. Charter
Members. Officers. Preachers. Number of Members. Three Things
Contributing to its Prosperity. New House of Worship. Serious
Trouble in the Church. How Settled. Method of Raising Money. The
Church Builds Allen a House. Organizes a Sunday-school. How it is
Conducted 77

CHAPTER XIV.

He Moves to Mt. Byrd. Debate with J. W. Fitch. Preaches at Madison,
Ind. Protracted meetings at Columbia, Burksville, Thompson's
Church, Dover, Germantown, Pleasant Hill, Burksville again, Beech
Grove, Dover again 88

CHAPTER XV.

Begins Preaching at Beech Grove. Debates with Elder Hiner. Amusing
Incident. Holds Many Meetings. Debates with Elder Frogge. Debates
again with Elder Hiner. Repudiates Miller's Book. Sick Again. Holds
more Meetings 96

CHAPTER XVI.

Continues to Evangelize. Dr. Cook's Prescription. Incident at
Glendale. Peculiar Feature in the Meeting at Madisonville. The
Fractious Preacher at Sonora. Closes his Evangelistic Labors.
Establishes the _Old Path Guide_. The Bruner Debate 101

CHAPTER XVII.

Visits Midway. Attends the Missouri State Convention. Reflections.
Annual Sermons. Last Protracted Meeting. Kindness of Mt. Byrd,
Glendale and Smithfield Churches. Gives up Office Work. Goes to
Eureka, Ill. Country Home. Takes Cold at the Lexington Convention.
Goes to Florida 107

CHAPTER XVIII.

Organizes a Church at DeLand. Health Improves. Relapses. Starts
Home. Resignation. Sells His Interest in the _Guide_. Begins
Writing again. Attends Two Conventions. Goes to Texas. At Home
again. Works on. 113

CHAPTER XIX.

Reflections on his Fiftieth Birthday. What a Wonderful Being is
Man! Governed, not by Instinct, but by Reason. Man Lives by Deeds,
not Years. How to Grow Old. Half of Life Spent in Satan's Service.
Renewed Consecration. Last Three Birthdays. His Trust in God. 118

CHAPTER XX.

Conclusion, by the Editor. Tokens of Love from Many. Keeps Writing.
Controversy with the _Standard_. Last Meeting with His Mother.
Visited by Professors McGarvey and Graham. Commits His Writings to
the Latter. Visits Eminence and Lexington. Many Brethren Come to
See Him. Meeting at Mt. Byrd. Estimate of His Character. The
Closing Scenes. Farewell to His Family. Dies. Funeral Services. 127

PART II.--ADDRESSES.

I.--Culture and Christianity: their Relation and Necessity. 137

II.--Self-culture. 159

III.--Plus Ultra _vs._ Ne Plus Ultra. 175

PART III.--SELECTIONS.

NEW TESTAMENT VIEWS OF CHRIST.

I.--Christ the Lamb of God. 190

II.--Christ the Bread of Life. 194

III.--Christ the Water of Life. 199

IV.--Christ the Son of God. 202

V.--Christ the Son of Man 212

VI.--Christ the Great Teacher 218

VII.--Christ the Deliverer 223

VIII.--Christ the Great Physician 230

IX.--Christ Our Mediator 236

X.--Christ Our Mediator (continued) 242

XI.--Christ Our High Priest 249

XII.--Christ Our Righteousness 254

PART I.--AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

CHAPTER I.

I was born near La Grange, Oldham county, Ky., March 7, 1836. My
father, Francis Myers Allen, was born in Brown county, Ohio, December
7, 1807. He was the son of Thomas Allen, who, in 1812, when my father
was only five years old, moved from Brown county, O., to Shelby county,
Ky., and lived on Little Bullskin, a few miles west of Shelbyville.

My mother, Sarah A. Gibbs, was a daughter of James L. Gibbs and Mary
Ashby, and was born in Loudoun county, Va., April 6, 1808. The family
moved from Virginia to Kentucky in 1810, and lived in Shelbyville.

My grandparents on both sides reared large families of industrious,
thrifty children, and both grandfathers lived to be quite aged, my
mother's father living to be nearly one hundred years old.

My parents were married near Simpsonville, in Shelby county, April 9,
1829, and to them were born thirteen children--five boys and eight
girls--ten of whom lived to be grown. I was the fifth child--two boys
and two girls being older. The oldest child, a boy, died in infancy.
Being poor, both parents and children had to work hard and use strict
economy to make ends meet. We all knew much of the toils and hardships
of life, little of its luxuries. Both parents were blessed with good
constitutions, and had fine native intellects, but they were uneducated
save in the mere rudiments of the common school. They thought that "to
read, write and cipher" as far as the single rule of three, was all the
learning one needed for this life, unless he was going to teach. If my
father's mind had been trained, it would have been one of vast power.
He was philosophical, a good reasoner, and possessed of unusual
discrimination. He had also great coolness and self-possession in
emergencies.

In illustration of the latter statement, there recurs an incident in my
father's life that will bear recital. In those old-fashioned days of
"fist and skull" entertainments on public occasions, it was common for
each county to have its bully. Oldham at different times had
several--men of great muscular build and power, whose chief idea of
fame was that they could "whip anything in the county." My father was a
small man, weighing only one hundred and thirty pounds, and of a
peaceable disposition. Indeed, it was hard to provoke him to pugilistic
measures. But circumstances caused one of these bullies to force a
fight upon him at La Grange, in which the man was whipped so quickly
and so badly that no one knew how it was done. The man himself
accounted for it on the ground that "Mr. Allen came at me smiling."
This caused one or two others, at different times, to seek to
immortalize themselves by doing what the first had failed to
accomplish; but with the same result.

Being a farmer, my father was never without occupation, and he always
had plenty for his boys to do; hence I knew nothing but hard work on
the farm, except a few school days in winter, from the time I could
pull a weed out of a hill of corn till I reached my majority.

In the fall after I was born my parents moved from the farm near La
Grange to Brown county, O., not far from Hamersville. There they
remained a year; but my mother being much dissatisfied, they moved to
Floydsburg, Ky., and in the following spring, when I was two years old,
returned to the old place where I was born. Here the memories of life
begin. The incidents of daily life from this time forward are fresh in
my memory to-day. Here I had my first and last fight with my mother.
When I was three years old, my father, one day in June, was plowing
corn in a field not far from the house. When he went out, after noon, I
wanted to go with him. He took me behind him on the horse to the field.
When we got there I wanted to come back. He brought me back. I then
wanted to go to the field. He took me to the field. I then wanted to
come back. He brought me back. I then wanted to go to the field, but he
left me, telling my mother to take me in charge. Because she attempted
to control me I began fighting her. She whipped me with a small switch,
and I fought till I fell. Being completely exhausted, I begged my
oldest sister to fight for me, and when she refused and I had recovered
a little, I got up and went at it again. But when I fell the second
time, I lay till they took me and put me to bed, and there I remained
several days. Though I did not surrender, I never afterwards felt
disposed to renew the engagement. It was almost death to my mother, for
she did not chastise me in anger; her firmness, however, saved me.

In the spring of 1840 we moved to a farm some two miles south of La
Grange, on the road leading from that place to Ballardsville. Here we
lived one year. Only one event worth naming occurred while we lived
here. My mother took myself, an older sister, and a younger brother to
visit a sister she had living in La Grange. It was a beautiful summer
day, the roads were good, and we walked. My mother stopped at the house
of a neighbor on the road side for a few minutes, and told us to go on,
and be sure not to leave the road. With childish perversity we thought
the green fields better than the dusty road, and were soon into them.
It was not long till we were completely lost, and naturally wandered
the wrong way, not thinking to observe the sun and consider our course.
So, when we did not put in an appearance, the whole neighborhood was
aroused, and several hours of excitement followed before we were found.
My sister Bettie, two years my senior, was captain of this expedition.

In the spring of 1841 my father bought a farm of one hundred and twenty
acres, lying about three miles southwest from La Grange. Most of the
land was poor, and the "improvements" equally so. The house was a hewed
log cabin about 18×20 feet, with clap-board roof held down by weight
poles, and the walls "chinked" with mud. It had a large fire-place at
one end, and a chimney made of slats and mortar, familiarly known as a
"stick" chimney. The only window was paneless, with a solid shutter
hung on leather hinges, propped up with a stick, except when it was
wanted down. The floors above and below, were of broad lumber, and laid
loose. The door, when closed, was fastened with a big pin. A narrow
porch ran along the front, connecting with another at one end of the
house, between it and the kitchen. This was large and of the same style
of architecture as the house, but what that style was would puzzle any
one to tell. These two rooms and porches, with the smoke-house and
hen-house, constituted the "improvements" in that line. The
out-buildings were stables and a crib, of round logs. The fences were
all of rails, and inferior in kind. "Bars" and "slip-gaps" supplied the
place of gates in some places, and in others the fences had to be often
pulled down for lack of such conveniences. A fine spring gushed from
the foot of a hill, one hundred yards in front of this humble abode.
The location of dwellings, in that age and country, was determined
almost exclusively by springs. Every other consideration yielded to
this.

Here we took up our abode in a home of our own in the spring of 1841,
as above stated. The farm was afterwards enlarged by other purchases,
and the original still remains in the family. The poverty of the soil,
its tendency to produce briars, its large amount of heavy timber, with
the clearing necessary to be done, made it a place specially favorable
for the cultivation of industry. My father was one of those men who
never ran short of work; he always had plenty of it for himself and the
whole family. Recreation was almost unknown, and we had hardly rest
enough to secure good health. We were not of those who had to resort to
base-ball and foot-ball for exercise; it was ours to combine pleasure
with profit, only the profit was more than the pleasure. There is no
doubt that employment contributes to health of both body and mind. Good
blood, good thought and good morals are born of industry, provided it
be not pushed to the extreme of exhaustion. Children and young people
must have relaxation from toil, that both the physical and mental
powers may recuperate; but not much attention was paid to this
beneficent philosophy in my father's family. Had there been, it might
have been better for at least some of his children in after years.
There is a golden mean in this, as in other things, which parents
sometimes miss in their blind adhesion to a false theory. Rest and
labor are both appointments of God's benevolence.

CHAPTER II.

His First School. The School-house. The Teacher. The Order of Reciting.
Spelling Matches. First Sweetheart. Extremes in Likes and Dislikes.
Fondness for Study. Improvement in Schools.

At the age of about seven I attended my first school. The house was on
my father's farm, a half a mile from our dwelling. It was constructed
of round logs, and had _five_ corners--the fifth was formed at one
end by having shorter logs laid from the corners at an obtuse angle,
like the corner of a rail fence, and meeting in the middle. It was
built up thus to the square, then the logs went straight across,
forming the end for the roof to rest on; consequently this fifth corner
was open, and this was the fire-place. Stones laid with mud mortar were
built in this corner, extending several feet each way, and wood nearly
as long as the breadth of the house would be filled in. The seats were
split logs smoothed on the flat side, and supported on legs put in with
an auger. From these the feet of the children dangled early and late.
There was no support for the back. The house had a dirt floor and a
clap-board roof. Light was let in by cutting away part of two logs in
the end. A wide puncheon was fastened just below this for the writers,
with a seat to correspond. During winter they pasted paper over these
openings, and light for the rest of the school came down the chimney.

The first teacher we had was an old man by the name of Ballou. He lived
on our place, not far from the school-house, and taught for several
years. He was very poor, did poor teaching, and got poor pay. He was
master of only reading, writing and ciphering.

There were no classes in the school, and each one went it
independently, studying what suited his taste and ability. Some read in
the Testament, and others in any book they happened to have. In those
days the rule was that those who got to school first "said first"--that
is, they recited in the order in which they got to the house. This
would sometimes get up a great rivalry, and I have known young men
living two miles away to be at school before daylight. The whole day,
except an hour at noon, was spent in saying lessons. The old teacher
sat in his chair, and the pupils went to him one by one, in the order
in which they got to the house, and said their lessons. When they got
around, the same process was repeated. Sometimes between turns the old
man would take a little nap, and then we all would have some fun. One
more bold than the rest would tickle his bald head or his nose, and to
see him scratching would afford us much amusement.

Each Friday afternoon was spent in a spelling-match. Captains were
chosen, and they would "choose up" till the school was divided into two
classes. Beginning at the head, one of each class would stand up and
spell, till one was "turned down;" then another took his place, and so
on until all on one side were down. I began at this school in the
alphabet, and the second winter I could spell almost every word in
Webster's old Elementary Speller. If provided with a sharp knife, and a
stick on which to whittle, which the kind old man would allow, I could
generally stand most of an afternoon without missing. Strange to say,
after a few years, when I had given myself to the study of other
things, it all went from me, and I have been a poor speller ever since.

In this school I had my first sweetheart--a buxom, jolly good girl,
about six years my senior. To her I wrote my first love letter, and
when it was done its chirography looked as if it had been struck by
lightning; and I had to get an old bachelor friend to help me read it.
Here I am reminded of an early tendency to extremes in my likes and
dislikes. I had a race one morning with a girl whom I saw coming to
school from an opposite direction, each striving to get into the house
first. I clearly went in ahead, but she claimed the race and beat me
out of it. From this on I had an extreme dislike for her. The spring to
which we all had to go for a drink, was about a hundred yards from the
house. The path to it passed through a broken place in a large log that
lay across this path. In this I would never walk, nor would I pass
through the gap, but would always climb over that big log.

These school days were only during winter, after the crop was all
gathered in and before spring work began. After I got large enough to
help in winter work, my attendance was only "semi-occasional." After a
while a better school-house was built, a mile further away, and it was
every way more comfortable, save that we had still the backless slab
seats. Here I went at odd times in winter for several years. I had
acquired a great fondness for reading, devouring everything in the way
of books I could lay my hands upon. Especially I had a great passion
for history, biography, geography, natural philosophy, and the like,
and I let nothing escape me that the country afforded. I had no money
to buy books, and had to depend on borrowing them. I soon went through
arithmetic, grammar, and the history of the United States. This was
more than my paterfamilias recognized as essential to a practical
education, and hence he was not disposed to let me go to school as much
as the other children, who gave themselves no concern about books out
of school. The idea of one's going through grammar, philosophy, or more
than half the arithmetic, "unless he was going to teach," he regarded
as a waste of time. His conception of life and mine were so different
that there was frequently more or less friction. It was decidedly
unpleasant from youth to manhood to be discouraged and opposed in my
one absorbing passion for obtaining an education. My mother sympathized
with me, but could not help me. The first dollar I ever made I spent
for a book, and for this purpose I saved my hard-earned pennies.
Midnight often found me poring over this book by the light of kindling
prepared for the purpose. This was opposed; and thus the struggle went
on during my minority.

I can not forbear, before closing this short chapter upon my school
life, to allude to the great improvement in the matter of common
schools since I was a boy. My native State, though sadly behind many of
her younger sisters, has made some progress in this direction, and I
can but hope this is only an earnest of what is to come. In a few
favored localities, chiefly the cities, there is ample provision made
for the education of the children of the people, but in the country
districts much remains to be done before we are up with the demands of
the age in regard to the comfort of the pupils as well as the
facilities for the prosecution of their studies. We need more and
better school-houses, better furniture, and more attractive
surroundings. Well qualified and earnest teachers are not yet as thick
as blackberries in Kentucky. When as much attention is bestowed on
these as on jockeys, and on our boys as on our horses, we shall be both
richer and better.

CHAPTER III.

His Religious Experience. Tries to be a Methodist. Hopes to become a
Preacher. Boy Preaching. Attends a Sunday-school. "Chaws" Tobacco. Goes
to Love Feast. Mourners' Bench Experience. Is Puzzled and Disgusted.

My parents were Methodists, as were their ancestors on both sides. My
mother was uniformly religious, but not fussy about it. I have seen her
intensely happy, but never heard her shout. Her religion was a deep,
smooth, current without fluctuation. My father was religious more by
spells, but still he never went to extremes, and could never "get
religion" at the altar, in the Methodist fashion. This lifelong failure
of his discouraged him, causing him at times to become somewhat
skeptical and indifferent. But he died, rejoicing in the faith of
Christ as held by the Methodist Church.

When about ten years of age I joined the Methodist Episcopal Church,
South. A great revival was in progress at La Grange, and over one
hundred persons united with the church. I enjoyed the services, and
continued to do so for a number of years. Often in those early times I
rode to meeting at surrounding churches and private dwellings on
horseback behind my mother. I still remember, as vividly as if it were
but yesterday, the texts and treatment of many of the sermons I heard.
In later years I have frequently thought of the fallacies the preachers
imposed upon us, and, I charitably believe, upon themselves, in these
sermons, but which neither we nor they could detect for want of correct
scriptural knowledge. The thought that I should one day become a
preacher impressed me, and it clung to me for years. When afterwards I
grew wild and wicked, this impression possessed me, and many a time,
when my good wife would rebuke me for my wickedness, I would say,
"Never mind, dear; I'll be a preacher yet." I had a high regard for
preachers, and from early life was fond of their company; and since I
have become one myself, the society of good, faithful men of God brings
me as near heaven as I shall ever be in the flesh.

It was a common thing with me, when I came home from meeting, to get up
one of my own by gathering the children together and preaching to them
the sermons I had heard; and while these were not verbally correct,
there was in them the substance of what the preachers had delivered. I
would sing and pray, and go through the whole performance. I improvised
a little pulpit, and had a church after my own notion; I was a great
plagiarist, and in this, too, I copied after some others.

I attended the first Sunday-school I ever heard of; it was conducted by
Floyd Wellman, a gentleman who afterwards became a prominent and
honored citizen of Louisville. Sunday-schools were then poor things, as
I fear many of them are yet. Little question-books, with the answers
supplied, and reading-books, mostly about angelic boys and girls who
died of early piety, furnished the staple of our reading, while but
little of the Scriptures was taught, or thought about.

To chew tobacco seemed to me to be manly; so to let the people see I
was thus far developed, I prepared me a rough twist of "long green;"
this I stuck in my pantaloons pocket, for the occasion, and when
everything was propitious in the Sunday-school, I drew out the twist
and bit off a "chaw." It raised quite a laugh, in which the
superintendent himself joined; and this ended for life my chewing
tobacco to be seen of men.

I often went with my parents to "love feast." At the first of these
which I attended I had an experience of my own. The light-bread was cut
into slips about two inches long and a half an inch wide and thick.
Some of these were then divided into small pieces. On the plate which
was passed around were two long pieces, and I concluded that if there
was any virtue in the thing it would be enhanced by my taking a long
one; but when I discovered that all the rest had taken but a bite my
philosophy failed, and I hid the remainder where Rachel hid the gods of
her father Laban.

When about fifteen years of age the Methodists had a big revival at
Mount Tabor, a neighboring country church. In this meeting a great many
of my friends and companions were "getting religion" at the altar of
prayer. I became intensely desirous of the same blessing, and in great
anxiety and hopefulness I went to the altar. Day after day did I go,
but only to be disappointed. Every time some would "get through," and
there would be great rejoicing, till only one young man and myself were
left. The whole power of the church was then concentrated on us, but to
no purpose. In this extremity I began to reason about it as I had not
done before. I had been taught that "God was no respecter of persons;
but that in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh
righteousness, is accepted with him." My soul ever recoiled from the
idea of His decreeing some men to salvation and others to damnation,
irrespective of their own will and conduct. Here, now, I was as
helpless as a stone till God should do this work of grace for me. Why
would he send down the Holy Spirit and convert one on my right, another
on my left, till the "bench" was vacant, and not convert me? The
preachers were praying for Him to do it; my father and mother were
praying earnestly for it; the whole church were pleading with Him, and
yet He would not do it. I knew I was a sinner; that I wanted salvation;
that I was sincere, earnest as the others could be: but all this
availed nothing. The preachers tried to explain the failure on the
ground that I was still clinging to the world and my own righteousness;
that I had not given my heart wholly to God, etc. This I knew to be
false. I concluded that if a poor, penitent, agonizing sinner with all
his prayers and pleadings, with the whole church earnestly coöperating,
could not induce God to save him, he might just as well be decreed to
damnation from all eternity. With these reflections I left the
mourners' bench in disgust, and ever since I have had for it an
inexpressible contempt. Time and observation have confirmed me in this
feeling; and while I cherish a sincere respect for those who in
ignorance think it is a divine arrangement, and that in resorting to it
they are obeying a command of God, I have none for those who, knowing
better, still use it as a means of conversion. As often employed by
professional evangelists, there is so much of clap-trap that it must
bring the whole subject of religion into contempt with sensible people.
It is amazing to me that, in view of its entire lack of Scripture
precept or example, the light and knowledge of this day, and its
frequent failures, it, and the whole system of which it is an essential
part, are not laid aside.

Having been taught that Methodism and Christianity were identical, and
having completely lost faith in the former, it was natural enough that
I should become skeptical as to the latter. Only a lingering suspicion
that after all they might be different, saved me from hopeless
infidelity; and had I not in after years learned such to be the case, I
should have lived and died in rebellion against God.

CHAPTER IV.

Fun and Mischief. His Little Cousin and the "Gnats." The Aurora
Borealis. A Bumble-bee Scrape. Another Bee Scrape. Justification by
Faith alone. Readiness to Fight. Love of Justice. No Surrender.

When a boy, I was as full of fun and mischief as an egg is of meat, and
I have never got rid of it. With a younger brother and a neighbor boy
of my own age, equally mischievous with myself, there was hardly a
thing in the way of fun and frolic that we were not continually into.
Hunting rabbits was our chief sport, and, when we got larger, coons,
'possums and the like at night. There was not a tree of any
peculiarity, or a hole in the ground, for miles around, that we did not
know all about. We knew, also, every fruit tree, from the apple to the
black-haw or persimmon in the same territory, and the time they were
ready for company; and we never failed to pay our respects to them all
in due time. I would not mention many of the bad things of my early
life; but that is the way the Bible does with its heroes, and the Bible
is always a safe guide to follow.

About all the money we made in our boyhood days was from the sale of
nuts and the flesh and skins of the animals we caught during the fall
and winter. This was my way of getting books, maps, etc., to help me in
my studies. I was the recognized leader in all the mischief we did, and
many prophecies were made that I should one day be hanged, and in this
anticipation my father fully shared. My younger brother and I were
constantly playing practical jokes on each other, and often upon
others. We never became offended, though the pranks were sometimes
exceedingly rough; but we were always watching an opportunity to "get
even." I will relate a few as samples, while others are too bad to
tell.

On one occasion some cousins and their children visited us from Shelby
county. They were considered quite wealthy for that time. Their little
boy was dressed in very fine clothes, at least, in our estimation, and
we concluded he was putting on airs. We thought we would do him a
valuable service by taking him down a little, so we asked him if he had
ever seen a singular kind of gnat, which we described. He had not. We
proposed to show him a fine lot--a big nest of them. We affirmed that
they were nice, harmless things to play with. So we went forth to see
the gnats. We got him to the nest and stirred them up, and in a few
minutes the innocent, unsuspecting boy was covered with yellow jackets.
Of course, he ran to the house screaming, and they had a time in
getting them off of him. He was badly stung, but we made it appear that
we had gone down there to fight them, which was a favorite pastime with
us, and that he got too near the nest. Thus we escaped a well-merited
whipping.

About the same time in life my younger brother and I caught a rabbit
and dressed it for breakfast. It was Saturday afternoon, and father and
mother had gone to her father's, some six miles away, to stay till the
next evening. That night the aurora borealis was unusually bright, and
as the excitement of Millerism had not died away, there was much talk
of the world's coming to an end. My oldest sister, Mary, was getting
supper ready and was greatly alarmed. She would go out and watch the
sky, and then go back to see about the supper. Finally I said, "Mary,
do you really think the world will come to an end before morning?" "I
do believe it will," said she. "Then," said I, "_we must have the
rabbit for supper_." I had no notion of losing my rabbit by such a
trifling circumstance as that.

Later in life, when old enough to work in the harvest field, we had a
neighbor who was very "close," and we never had any fancy for him. He
was always boasting of his ability to work with bees. One year he had a
large harvest, and many hands employed, and we were helping him. One
day we told him we had found a fine bee tree which could be cut down in
a few minutes, and that if he would go and take the honey he might have
it all except what we could eat. He was delighted with the proposal, so
after supper a number of us started for the bee tree, a mile and a half
from his house, in a dense forest. He had several buckets prepared to
secure a large amount of honey. When we began to chop, the bees began
to roar, and our friend was frantic with delight. Soon the tree fell,
and he "waded in" with his axe and buckets to get the luscious spoil.
As he went in we went out, and soon he discovered himself in a big
bumble-bees' nest alone with all his buckets, etc., a mile and a half
from home! We saw no more of him that night, and did not care to meet
him next day.

This reminds me of another bee scrape, in which my father figured
largely. He prided himself on being able to handle bees as so many
flies. On a cool, drizzly day we cut a bee tree on the farm. I was
wearing a brown jeans sack coat. This I laid aside while chopping. When
the tree fell the bees swarmed forth in great numbers, and my father
stalked in with his axe, chipping and cutting the limbs, preparatory to
chopping for the honey, and was as indifferent as if surrounded only by
gnats. We stood at a safe distance. Soon he came out with a trifle less
indifference than he went in with, picking the bees out of his hair
with both hands. They had literally settled on his head and were
stinging him furiously. He came running to us to fight them off. I
grabbed up my coat, and with both hands struck him over the head. A
large jack knife, very heavy, was in one of the pockets, and this
struck him on the opposite side of the head and came near felling him
to the ground. We fought the bees off the best we could, but he was
terribly stung. This was the last of his working with bees as with
flies.

My father was a firm believer in the doctrine of justification by faith
alone. All those passages of Scripture that connect justification or
salvation with faith, without mentioning anything else as a condition,
he had at his tongue's end. His argument was, whatever may be mentioned
elsewhere, here salvation is promised on the condition of faith, and
nothing else is in the text. With all this I had become perfectly
familiar, and always had a suspicion that there was a fallacy in it
some where, though I could not exactly expose it. We were clearing a
piece of new ground in April, about the time the spring fever sets in,
and my younger brother and I always "had it bad." It was a Monday
morning, and father was going to La Grange to attend court. At
breakfast he gave us very particular instructions about our work--what
to do and how to do it--and a feature emphasized was that we were to
keep at it. It was getting quite dry, and when he had started to town
he hallooed back and said, "Boys, I want you to watch the fire to-day
and not let it get out." "All right," we responded. His two directions,
perhaps not an hour apart, reminded me of his theology, and I resolved
at once to test its validity when weighed in his own scales. So we went
out to the clearing, lay down under the shade of a tree, and "watched
the fire" all day! Having returned, he asked us how we had got along.
We replied, "Finely," that we had done what he told us; but when he
came to "view the landscape o'er," we had to give an account for the
deeds done in the body, or, rather, not done. I told him that his
specific instruction was to watch the fire. "But," said he, "I told you
before that, that you were to do the work." "Yes," I replied, "but the
last time you said anything about it you did not allude to the work;
but only to watch the fire. There was no work in the text." However, he
was by no means disposed to look upon that as favorably as upon
justification by faith only, which rests on the same principle. Still
it opened his eyes to a fallacy in his argument that he had not seen
before.

I generally lived in peace and good will with all the boys in the
neighborhood, but a few times in my life feeling imposed on, or that
some one else was, I got into fights, and always with those older and
stronger than myself. I had learned something of the secret of success
in that line from what I had heard said of my father. This often gave
me a victory quite unlooked for. I would fight the best friend I had in
the world if he imposed on one unable to cope with him. I had a
companion much stronger than I, and inclined to be overbearing. On one
occasion, at a corn husking, he tried to force a fight on a boy smaller
than himself. When I saw he was quite determined about it, while the
other boy was trying to avoid it, I said, "Jim, you and I are good
friends. I have nothing against you in the world. I like you, but you
can't fight that boy. If you fight any body you will have to fight me.
I don't want any quarrel with you, nor do I want to hurt you, but if
nothing but a fight will do you, that's just the way it has to be
done." When he saw I was in earnest, the matter was dropped, and our
friendship continued.

I was severely tried on one occasion. My older brother had a falling
out with a neighbor, and we three were alone in the woods. I had a
dislike for the man, as much as my brother had. He was boastful,
bigoted and disagreeable. But in this particular case I saw clearly
that my brother was in the wrong, I felt compelled, therefore, to take
sides with the other man. At this my brother was deeply offended, and
it took him a long time to get over it. He did not see his wrong, and
thought my conduct very strange and unnatural, especially as I did not
like the man. I deplored this, but could not yield the principle of
holding justice superior to persons.

One of my difficulties was so peculiar that I will recount it. It was
in the winter, and the ground was frozen deep. The day was bright, and
on the south hillsides the ground had thawed to the depth of two or
three inches. Several boys were together, and one of them several years
older than I. He was a son of one of our tenants, and entirely too
proud for one in his condition. He was imposing on my younger brother,
and I gave him to understand he must not do that. With this he turned
upon me. We were upon a south hillside, under a large beech tree, and
the ground was thawed on top and frozen beneath. About the first pass I
slipped on a root concealed in the mud, and fell on my back, with my
shoulders wedged between two projecting roots and my head against the
tree. I was utterly powerless. After pommeling me a while, he proposed
to let me up if I would say "enough." This I declined to do. Then he
would renew the operation, and then the proposition. The sun was three
hours high, no one interfered, and I insisted that they should not.
Sometimes he would lie upon me and talk for half an hour or more; he
would argue the case, remind me of my helplessness, and that it would
be death to lie there on the frozen ground till night. Then when his
advice all failed, he would renew hostilities. Thus it continued till
sundown. As the sun got low he changed his proposal. He would now let
me up if I would promise to make friends, and not fight him. This I
also declined. Finally, when he saw that nothing would avail, he gave
me a few parting salutes, and, springing to his feet, ran away. Before
I could get up he had such a start that I could not overtake him. For
some time I watched for a chance to pay him back, but he kept out of my
sight; and soon after his folks moved away, and thus the matter ended.

From my infancy it has been my disposition to stick to my convictions
till I saw I was in the wrong. I can not say that I am obstinate,
though it may have that appearance to others. I never could yield a
point for policy's sake, though my adherence to my convictions has cost
me a good deal. This led me early in life to be careful in coming to a
conclusion, and I have always admired Davy Crockett's motto, "Be sure
you're right, and then go ahead." I commend this homemade philosophy to
all who may read this chapter.

CHAPTER V.

Given to Abstraction of Thought. Cases in Point. Opinion of Debating
Societies. Perseverance. Consumption. Endurance. More Comfortable
Home. Death of his Father. Love of Fashionable Amusements. Meets his
Future Wife. Is Married. Tribute to his Wife. Her Father and Mother.

During early life I was much given to abstraction of thought, and I am
still down with the same disease. From morning till night, between the
plow-handles or swinging the maul, I was absorbed in reflection. My
reading and other studies raised many questions that I sought to find
out. Natural philosophy and the elements of astronomy were subjects of
peculiar delight, and would cause me to become oblivious of all
surroundings. This frequently got me into trouble. It vexed my father
very much that my mind was not more on my work, and he had but little
patience with me. When about the house I would often realize that I had
been told to do something, and I would start at once about it, and
perchance when I came to myself I would find that I was at the barn or
spring, wholly forgetful of what I had been told to do. On one occasion
I was told to go to the lot and catch a horse and come to the crib, and
my father would put the sack on for me, and I was to go to mill. I went
and caught the horse, got on and went, but when I arrived the mill was
in ashes; it was just through burning. On my return I saw that my
father was not as serene as a May morning. But not till he spoke of it
did I discover that I had gone off without the sack. I at once taxed my
eloquence to give a glowing account of the fire, and thus divert his
attention from my neglect.

Many a time have I acted ridiculously on account of this absorption of
thought. While at Eminence College, there was a public exhibition one
evening in the chapel. A few minutes before it began I went into the
room of Prof. Henry Giltner, just across the hall from the chapel, and
here I saw McGarvey's "Commentary on Acts" for the first time. I
thought I would look into it for a moment before the exercises should
begin; and that was the last I thought of the exhibition till some one
came into the room just before its close, hunting for me.

One more instance of this nature must suffice. About 1872, I was
holding a very successful meeting at Burksville, on the Cumberland
river, and while I was preaching one night there came up a terrific
thunderstorm, with vivid lightning and hard rain. A young man occupied
a front seat who had just been reclaimed from a life of sin, and who is
now a preacher. I had a faint recollection of seeing him leave the
house. He had become alarmed at the storm and left, but I knew nothing
of the confusion till the services closed.

Every fall and winter we would have debating societies at the
school-house, and at these, men of considerable attainments would be
present and participate--teachers, preachers, and lawyers. In these I
took a deep interest. My reading enabled me to become well posted on
most of the questions discussed; and by careful preparation I soon came
to be recognized as a good debater for one of my age. These discussions
were of great advantage to me, and I am clearly of opinion that
debating societies, when properly conducted, can be made useful to
aspiring young men.

From childhood my under front teeth passed up on the outside, and, when
a good sized boy, I concluded that that was not just the right thing,
and that I would bring them into their proper place. By an effort in
drawing back my under jaw, I could barely get the edges to so pass as
to make a pressure of any value. But with this slight purchase the
operation was continued from day to day, till the work was
accomplished. The teeth became very sore from pressure, and the muscles
of the jaw very tired from the unnatural strain, but in about ten days
it was all over, and the job complete for life.

Another case required much greater perseverance. My older brother was
very hollow-chested, and died of consumption; several others of the
family were afflicted in like manner, and met the same fate. When about
sixteen, I had strong tendencies in that direction. My chest was
becoming "hollow," and I decided upon an effort to counteract it. To
this end I slept on my back with no pillow under my head, and a
good-sized one under my chest. I would awake of a morning feeling
almost too dignified to bend forward. This I kept up for two years,
holding myself erect during the day, till my chest expanded and the
threatening trouble was overcome. But for that I should have been in my
grave long ago. The simple fact is, I have been fighting consumption
since I was sixteen years of age.

While I was never robust in health or appearance, I was exceedingly
tough, and had great power of endurance. One of my physicians told me
long ago that in all his practice he had never seen anything that would
compare with it. This enabled me to do as much work as men of much
greater strength. In those days reapers were generally unknown in our
country, and the grain was all "cradled." At this I was an adept, never
meeting any one that could excel me. The same was true of jumping and
running foot races. Hundreds of men could no doubt beat me, but I never
happened to meet them. I kept up these exercises till I left college.

When I was about twelve years of age my father built a large and
comfortable house on another part of his farm. It was of hewed logs,
and a story and a half high, with a large kitchen and dining-room,
porches, etc. It was subsequently weather-boarded, and it is still a
comfortable, commodious dwelling, owned by my mother, who never left it
till her children all married and went to themselves. Father died of
typhoid fever in 1860, in the fifty-third year of his age. He left my
mother in comparatively easy circumstances, with nearly three hundred
acres of land, plenty of stock, and a considerable amount of money on
interest. By industry and economy on the part of himself and the whole
family this property was accumulated, and he died in the assurance that
with prudence on our part we could all make a respectable living. My
mother now makes her home with her oldest daughter, Mary Crenshaw, wife
of Mr. O. B. Crenshaw, a few miles north of Simpsonville, Shelby
county, Ky. She waits in confident expectation that before long she too
will depart to be with Christ and His redeemed, where the families of
his saints will be reunited for ever.

After I grew to be a young man, I became very fond of fashionable
amusements; I liked dancing, and went far and near to engage in the
fascinating exercise. I gave a great deal of attention to dress;
priding myself on being a gentleman; hence I found a welcome in the
best society. In those years of wildness and wickedness, some things I
was careful to avoid. I never learned to play cards, to gamble, or to
tolerate the company of immodest women. For the latter I had an
invincible repugnance that grew stronger with my years.

In the summer of 1855, while harvesting for her uncle, I first met at
the dinner-table Miss Jennie Maddox, the lady whom I afterwards
married. I looked as rough and unprepossessing that day as she ever saw
me afterwards. I was as brown as a Florida "cracker," and my dress was
anything but elegant. Had I anticipated the forming of such a
captivating acquaintance, I should have made some preparation, but I
was caught, and I had to make the best of it. We were married September
11, 1856; I was twenty years and a half old; she ten months younger.
From that time to this she has been a loving, faithful wife, prudent in
all things, industrious and frugal, caring for me and her children;
and, above all, a consistent disciple of Jesus Christ, whom she had
obeyed several years before our marriage. When we first met I thought
her very handsome; she was rather small, had auburn hair, blue eyes and
fair skin.

"And to-day you are fairer to me, Jennie,
Than when you and I were young."

As to myself, I was six feet one inch in height, weighed a hundred and
forty pounds, had brown eyes, and was, and am still, of a
nervous-bilious temperament. My complexion was then, as now, very dark.

My wife's father, G. W. Maddox, was an elder in the Pleasant Hill
church, Oldham county, Ky., near which he lived. The church is about
two miles south-east of Baird's Station, on the Louisville & Lexington
Railroad. He was a man of a firm logical mind, good general
information, and more intelligent in the Scriptures than any man I ever
met, outside of the ministry. I have heard several preachers make the
same remark. He was, however, a timid man, and it was difficult to get
much out of him in public. He began too late in life, and had no
training in that direction. But he was a very popular man, both in and
out of the church, and his counsel was generally taken. His wife was a
timid, unassuming, good woman, very conscientious and religious. They
reared a family of six girls and one boy, all of whom obeyed the gospel
in good time. I myself baptized several of them.

My father-in-law and I soon became very much attached to each other,
fond of each other's company, and I loved him as I loved few others.
His fine information, philosophic Christian spirit and wonderful
self-control first won my admiration, and this ripened into the
strongest friendship. He, more than all other men, caused me to see the
error of my way. We spent the first winter of our married life in his
pious home, and this gave us much time for investigation and
conversation upon the subject of religion.

CHAPTER VI.

Goes to Housekeeping. Discussions with Mr. Maddox. Attends Meeting. Is
Baptized by William Tharp. Double Damages for an Old Horse. Begins
Trading. Moves to Floydsburg. Description of the Place.

In the spring of 1857 we moved to a place on Currie's Fork, near
Centerfield, about a mile and a half from my former home and a little
farther from hers. So it will be seen I married only a few miles from
home. It may seem a little strange that we grew up in the same
neighborhood, and knew nothing of each other till a year before we were
married. But I rarely went to her church, and she as rarely went
anywhere else. Our religious proclivities led us in different
directions, and into different society. I had been taught to look upon
"Campbellism" as the most miserable of all heresies; and till I began
to visit at the Maddox house I was seldom in the company of "that
deluded people."

After moving to ourselves, we went nearly every Lord's day to the home
of my wife's father, and this for several reasons: she wanted to attend
her church, and this took her virtually home: this she enjoyed, and so
did I. The old folks could not visit us on that day without missing
church, and this they would not do. Mr. Maddox and I still engaged in
the investigation of Methodism, "Campbellism" and Infidelity. I could
feel the ground gradually giving way under me, but I was resolved upon
thoroughly testing every inch, and not yielding till I should become
satisfied as to the truth of all his positions. I would therefore study
all week and arrange my arguments with the utmost care, and when the
time seemed propitious I would present them as forcibly as I could. He
would never say a word till I was through; then he would say, "Well!
now let us test that." Then he would very calmly and pleasantly pick
the thing all to pieces, till I could see nothing but shreds. With a
mere touch, my carefully built structure would tumble like a cob house.
Thus the work went on for years. In the meantime I attended meeting
with my wife nearly every Lord's day, and heard much good preaching.
Every important point in the sermon would be afterward investigated,
and, like the noble Bereans, I searched the Scriptures daily, "to see
whether those things were so."

During these years several successful meetings were held at the church,
all of which I closely attended. One of these was conducted by John A.
Brooks, and another by the lamented Simeon King. At the latter I came
very near yielding to Christ, but persuaded myself that all was not yet
ready. I delighted to see others obey the Lord, and enjoy the blessings
of his religion, but I could not exactly see the way clear for myself.
In spite of a more enlightened judgment, I would find some of my old
erroneous notions clinging to me. I had a high regard for the church,
and loved the company of its good members, and only a supreme
carefulness, born of former blunders, kept me in disobedience.

In May, 1861, William Tharp and Wallace Cox were holding a meeting, and
at this I confessed Christ, and was immersed by Bro. Tharp. My doubts
as to the truth of the Christian religion and the way of salvation
therein, had all been removed; and to this day not a shadow of a doubt
has crossed my mind as to either. I now experienced a peace of
conscience that I had not known since my thought was first disturbed in
regard to the right way of the Lord.

I farmed for three years after marriage. The last year, we lived on the
railroad just below Buckner's Station, and while here I had a little
experience with the railroad company that teaches a lesson worth
learning. I had an old horse, of not much value, but useful to me; he
got out upon the road, and was killed by a passing train. I spoke of
going to Louisville, to see if I could not get pay for it. The
neighbors discouraged the idea, saying it would be useless. They cited
a number of instances where stock had been killed, and in no case had
any one obtained damages. But I went, found the Superintendent, and to
him I made my speech of about three minutes' length. At its conclusion,
he asked me if seventy-five dollars would satisfy me; and on my
replying that it would, he handed me the money. He then remarked that
the reason people got nothing in such cases, was because of the spirit
in which they came and the way they talked about it. I left him feeling
quite pleasant, for it was more than double the animal was worth. This
was before I became an adept in Christian ethics.

In the fall of 1859 I began trading, having obtained an interest in a
country store at a little place called Centerfield. We moved to the
place, and I began to haul country produce to Louisville. I had a team
which was said to be the best that came into the city, and I made
weekly trips, bringing back merchandise. This I continued for three
years, without the least regard to weather, and with scarcely a failure
during the whole time. This employment threw me into rough associations
in the city every week. Many engaged in like business from Kentucky and
Indiana stopped at the same tavern, and most of them were given to
dissipation. At home it was predicted that with my inclination to
wildness this would finish me; and while truth compels me to confess
that I often had "a jolly good time" with "the boys," the excess of
wickedness I saw had an opposite effect, and I came out at last a
preacher.

The next year we moved to Floydsburg, sixteen miles from Louisville,
because, as I did not stay in the store, but did the hauling back and
forth, it was a better location for us. It is an old town, in which my
maternal grandfather lived before I was born, in which I spent much
time before I was old enough to work, and around which cluster the
earliest memories of life. It was once a place of large business, on
the main road from Henry and adjacent counties to Louisville, and in
ante-railroad times a large amount of wagoning was done through the
place. At certain seasons great droves of cattle and hogs were driven
through it, and everything was lively; besides, it had a good trade
with the country around. But the Louisville & Lexington Railroad, which
runs within a mile of the town, killed it as dead as an Egyptian mummy,
because all this through business was taken by the railroad, and the
surrounding trade went to the stations or to the city. It is,
therefore, a quiet, undisturbed little place to live in, if one is not
dependent upon making his expenses there. Most of the old citizens,
business men of its prosperous days, have passed away, and the town has
the appearance of being at their funeral.

As far back as I recollect, and I know not how much farther, it had in
it one church, built of stone, small, and with a roof as sharp as the
best presentations of Methodism that were ever set forth in it. About
1850, this ancient structure was replaced by one of brick, of good
size, but poorly furnished. This is the only church that has ever been
in the place; and while the people have been unusually quiet and moral,
they have never been burdened with religion. There is a graveyard in
the rear of the house, opened, perhaps, when the first building was
erected, and in this silent spot sleep many of my friends and
relatives. I have never thought it made much difference where one is
buried--and in this I suppose I agree with most Protestants--but it is
one proof of the improved taste of the age to see the care now taken of
our cemeteries. Such places were unknown when I was a boy and where I
lived, and even yet, outside of our cities and larger towns, they are
too rare. Every village should have a neat and well-kept cemetery, to
take the place of the neglected old burying-grounds where,

"Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep."

CHAPTER VII.

Tries to Become a Politician. Fails. Last Act as a Politician. Tries to
Join the Southern Army. Fails Again. His First Appointment. Feeling of
Responsibility. His Plan. Text. Analysis of Sermon. Buys a Family
Bible. Rules of Life.

When I obeyed the Saviour, the brethren urged me to begin at once to
preach the gospel. I had been accustomed to making political speeches,
and public addresses of different kinds, and they thought I could just
as easily preach a sermon as to make a speech on any other subject. But
I was not thus inclined. I had political aspirations, and was not
disposed to give them up. My idea was, that I could have a good
influence on public men, in conversation and association, by being a
faithful and consistent Christian. I regarded this as a field in which
the influence of Christianity was much needed; and I decided to make
this a specialty, while leading a public political life. But it did not
take long for me to learn that there was at least a strong probability
that the influence would go the other way. However successfully some
men may be politicians and Christians both, I soon discovered that,
with my temperament, the two things would not work harmoniously
together. I concluded that if I continued in politics I would be a very
sorry kind of Christian, if one at all. For a thing of this kind I had
a deep repugnance. The issue, then, as it appeared to me, was finally
forced upon me: Shall I give up politics or Christianity? Of course I
was not compelled to give up Christianity in theory, but I felt that I
would virtually do so in practice; and with me the difference between
the two was hardly worth considering. While I felt that it was a great
sacrifice, in a worldly point of view, to give up the golden dreams of
a brilliant future, I decided in favor of Christ and the Bible. I shall
never cease to thank God for the decision.

My last act in political life was attending, as a delegate, a State
Convention at Frankfort, in August, 1861. This was, in some respects, a
miserable affair, and I became thoroughly disgusted with politics and
politicians, such as seemed to be pushing to the front, and crowding
modesty and decency and honesty out of sight. I decided that that kind
of association, that kind of companionship in the profession, that kind
of trickery and treachery as food for daily thought, however successful
one might be, was disgusting and debasing. I went home from the
convention determined upon a clear cut-loose from the whole concern.

During the convention, Gen. Wm. Preston remarked in a speech that in
one year from that day, "the stars and bars" would be waving from the
dome of that capitol. In twelve months to a day, I went to Frankfort to
see the Board of the Christian Education Society, about assisting me in
college. The railroad was not in use, and I went by way of the
Shelbyville pike. When I got in sight of the city, I saw "the stars and
bars" waving from the dome of the capitol! Gen. Kirby Smith had
possession.

When the brethren learned of my determination to give up politics, they
renewed their solicitations in regard to my preaching. But I had become
intensely concerned about the cause of the Southern Confederacy, and
longed to take a part in what I then considered her struggle for
independence and justice. In my misguided zeal, I regarded this a duty
that patriotism would not allow me to exchange for anything till it was
performed. Then, if spared, my life-work should be begun. A peculiar
circumstance, greatly lamented at the time, kept me out of the Southern
army. But I have long regarded it as a special providence of God.

I was an officer in a large cavalry company under the training of Col.
J. W. Griffith. He had fought through the Mexican war, was an
intelligent man, and a good soldier. He also fought through the late
war, and was several times promoted. We had been drilling for some
weeks, and the time was set for our departure. I had a good deal of
unsettled business at Louisville, and went to the city to settle it up.
During my absence the Federal authorities of Louisville were apprised,
in some way, of the movements and purposes of our men, and two
companies of cavalry were sent out to intercept them. Our men were
notified of this, and went twenty-four hours in advance of the set
time. Of all this I knew nothing, and when I got home the company was
gone. I knew not which way it had taken, for our Colonel kept his own
counsel. When night came I left home, determined upon an earnest effort
to find the trail of the company and follow them. Twice I came near
being caught by the soldiers in pursuit, and after a night's fruitless
search, I was compelled to return disappointed. I had not another
opportunity, and ere long I gave up the vain idea. But for that
disappointment I should have gone into the Southern army; and what the
result would have been will remain a secret till the day in which the
results of all contingencies are known. But it is highly improbable
that I should have ever become a preacher of the gospel of the grace of
God. Thank Him for the providence that overruled me!

I finally yielded to the importunities of the brethren, and allowed
them to make an appointment. This was in May, 1862, one year after
making the confession. The meeting was announced two weeks ahead. It
was a fine day, and through curiosity a great crowd assembled. I had
never been in the pulpit before, nor made any remarks in the church
except to pray. The brethren had a Bible-class every Lord's day when
there was no preaching, and no public speaking was indulged in except a
few remarks at the Lord's table, by one of the elders. Though I was
accustomed to speak in public, I felt a responsibility in this matter
that I never felt before. I decided upon three things as insuring
success, or at least resulting in no harm:

1. To select a plain, practical subject, on which I would not be
likely to indulge in false teaching.

2. To thoroughly study the _subject_, rather than the _sermon_.

3. To make myself thoroughly familiar with the analysis of the
subject, and then talk about it, without relying upon memory as
to language.

Relying on memory has been the cause of ten thousand failures, and has
taken all the "snap" out of ten thousand more, that were considered a
success. The intellect never leaps and bounds with vivacity when it is
chained by verbal memory.

I selected for my text Matt. xvi. 24: "Then said Jesus unto his
disciples, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and
take up his cross, and follow me." I went into the pulpit alone,
"introduced," as the saying is, for myself, and then spoke for forty
minutes. While I felt embarrassed by a sense of responsibility, there
was no confusion of thought in regard to the subject; hence no
difficulty in its presentation. As it was my first sermon, the analysis
of it may be of some interest.

I called attention, first, to the universal offer of salvation: "If
_any man_." Second, to the freedom of the will: "If any man _will_."
Third, personal responsibility involved in the foregoing. Fourth,
self-denial as a condition of eternal life. Fifth, the nature and
necessity of cross-bearing. Sixth, examples of self-denial and
cross-bearing on the part of Christ and the apostles.

The church in which I preached my first sermon was the same in which I
made the confession, and near which I was reared. For it I did my first
regular monthly preaching, while in college, and in it held a number of
successful protracted meetings, one annually, during the early years of
my ministry. The old church is dear to me yet; its old members are my
devoted friends, and I delight to visit them when Providence permits.

Immediately after obeying the Saviour I bought a family Bible and a
pocket Testament; not that we had none before, but they were not such
as suited my convenience. At home and abroad, in the city or the
country, in the store or on the road, I had my Testament. As I drove
all day along the highway, I would look at it occasionally to see how a
certain passage read, and then study its meaning. I have never read the
Bible largely, as some do, but I have studied it every day since I knew
the way of life, unless I was too sick to have anything in mind. I have
studied, doubtless, a hundred times as much without the book in my
hands as with it. The idea that one can study the Bible only as he has
opportunity to sit down with the book in his hands, is a great mistake.
Hence many people complain of having no time to study the Bible, when
the fact is they have nearly all their time, if they only knew it. I
early learned to study the Bible at any time or under any
circumstances, and the advantages of this to me have been beyond
estimation.

As soon as I got my family Bible, I wrote on a flyleaf a few simple

RULES OF LIFE.

1. To study this book carefully and prayerfully every day.

2. To try to understand its teaching, regardless of the theories
and traditions of men.

3. To make it the man of my counsel, the source and limit of my
knowledge of divine things, and to speak on such matters only as it
speaks.

4. To measure myself in everything by this standard, and bring my
life, in all respects, in subjection to its divine authority.

5. To strive to grow in grace, and in the knowledge of the truth,
that I may become strong in the Lord, be a blessing to my fellow
men, and at last obtain a home in heaven.

These rules, in some respects, have been closely observed; especially
the first three. While in the others I have fallen immeasurably short,
I feel that, upon the whole, the rules have been of great advantage to
me.

CHAPTER VIII.

Resolves to Go to College. Friends Oppose. Wife Decides It. Hard Living
and Hard Work. Impaired Health. Preaches for His Home Church.
Father-in-law Dies. "Frank, Be a True Man." House Robbed. "Scraps."
College Incidents. First Pay for Preaching. Holds Several Meetings.
Dishonest Preacher.

When I fully decided to devote my life to the ministry of the Word, I
felt an overwhelming desire for a better education, in order to do the
kind of work for the Master that his cause demanded. I had a good deal
of general information that I had acquired through years of reading and
study, but I was wholly ignorant of a number of things that I felt to
be necessary to reliable, satisfactory work for the Lord. I wanted to
devote my life to study, and I needed assistance in laying the
foundation on which to build in after years. I decided, therefore, to
quit business and go to college. This was vigorously opposed by all my
friends. The church insisted that I had education enough, and that all
I lacked was practice, to make me as good a preacher as there was need
to be. My relatives opposed it, because they could not see the
necessity, and it promised to wife and children only starvation. I had
had some reverses, and had got just fairly square with the world. The
flush war times had just come on. Trade was booming, money abundant and
prices going up. I was now prepared to make money as I had never made
it before, by five to one. To quit business just at that time, cut off
all source of revenue, and go with a wife and three children to
college, with but little money to start on, did, indeed, in one sense,
look like absolute recklessness. Indeed, some of the brethren thought I
was actually going crazy.

It was then argued that I should at least defer it a few years, till I
should make some money, which was then easily done, and thus provide
for the wants of my family while going through college. This looked
very plausible; but I was deeply impressed with the blunders I had
already made in trying to be a politician, then a soldier, and not
going at once to the work of the Lord. I was afraid to dally about the
matter any longer. I laid the case before the Lord and my wife. I knew
she was to be the greatest sufferer by the change, and her counsel
weighed more with me than that of all others. Considering what _might_
result from delay, the brave little woman said "Go." That settled it.

In August, 1862, I wound up my business, and prepared to enter Eminence
College. I rented an old, dilapidated house near the railroad, a mile
above town. The place had about three acres for cultivation, and the
same amount in grass. I kept a horse and buggy, a cow and several hogs.
My wife raised a large number of fowls. I cultivated the ground, making
it produce all it would, cut and hauled my fuel from the woods, and so
managed as to be at no great expense in living. But when going to a
city market every week, and feeling no embarrassment about money, we
indulged in a style of living that now had to be discontinued. This
went rather hard, but we tried to bear it bravely. The plainest and
hardest living of our lives, by far, were those years at Eminence. The
self-denial of my wife, for my sake and the gospel's, greatly
encouraged me to bear the cross.

I did double work during the whole time, reciting eight times a day.
This required intense application. I allowed myself eight hours for
sleep, and the other sixteen were given to study. Whether eating,
walking, working in the garden or chopping wood, I was boring into the
questions of the recitation room. I would occasionally take a little
turn with the boys on the playground at noon, but not often. I was fond
of it, but felt that I could not spare the time. This was a sad
mistake, confirmed by a life of broken-down health. But, like many
others, it was not discovered till the mischief was done. A determined
effort to crowd four years' work into two, under discouraging
circumstances, resulted in impaired health; which continued labor
beyond my strength kept impaired for the rest of my life. It is often
stated that preachers suffer more from overeating than overwork. This
is doubtless true to a large extent. But it was far from true in my
case. I was never a large eater after I was grown. And when my health
first failed me, want of a variety of good, nourishing food had no
little to do with it. And all through subsequent life, a trouble has
been to take sufficient food to meet the wants of the system.

I was the first married man that ever attended Eminence College. It was
considered quite a novelty by some. But a few months later, in the same
term, Bro. Briney came in. He and his wife boarded at the college. A
few years later Bro. George Bersot and wife came, and married
school-boys got to be quite common.

While attending school, I preached once a month for the old church at
home--Pleasant Hill. The distance was twenty miles, with a good dirt
road--when it wasn't bad. This afforded my wife an opportunity, during
favorable weather, to go to see her parents once a month. And her
father was now getting low with consumption. The church promised me no
specified amount for my preaching, and, as is frequently the case, most
of them considered the contract complied with when they gave me a
hearing. They were not in sympathy with my college enterprise, and were
not specially concerned about supporting it.

In May, 1863, my father-in-law died. In his death I lost one of my best
and dearest earthly friends. He was the only one who encouraged me in
my efforts for an education. While he could give me no material aid,
being himself embarrassed by years of affliction, his wise counsel and
deep sympathy helped me even more than money, badly as that was needed.
When he was gone, I felt as if the only bright spot in my horizon,
apart from my family, had faded into darkness. By nature he had a quick
temper, and was very impulsive. By Christian culture he came to be a
model in gentleness, patience and self-control. He was a wonderful
example of how men, by faith, "out of weakness are made strong." As we
stood around his bed of death, and his breathing indicated that the end
was at hand, he opened his eyes as I was bending over him, looked me
earnestly in the face, and composedly said, "Frank, be a true man." And
with these words his spirit took its flight. No other words that ever
fell from mortal lips ever so impressed me as these. The source whence
they came, and the circumstances under which they were uttered, gave
them peculiar significance. My soul, what is it for one to be a true
man--true to his friends and true to his foes; true to his family and
to her whose life is dearer to him than his own; true to himself and
his better nature in all that involves his honor as a man; true to the
truth, under all circumstances; and true to the Saviour and His cause,
to which he has dedicated his life? Ever in after years when tempted in
regard to a faithful discharge of its responsibilities, those sacred
words came from the sleeping dust of death--"Frank, be a true man."
Though dead, he yet speaks, and his words have been fruitful of good.

While attending his death and funeral, our house was broken into, and
almost everything we had was stolen. We had laid in meat and lard for
the year, and not a pound was left. All the flour, meal, sugar, coffee,
preserves, jams, jellies, and everything else, was taken. Not a pound
of anything to eat was left on the place. All the best cupboard ware,
and part of the bedding and my wife's clothing were taken. This was a
sorry plight to find ourselves in when we returned from the funeral.
The country was full of soldiers, and nothing was done towards
recovering the property. Thus we started on a darker and rougher road
for the rest of college life.

During the first year at Eminence there grew up a strong rivalry
between the two leading college societies--the Philomathean and the
Rising Star. Both were strong in numbers, and each had in it an unusual
amount of talent. I was appointed by the Philomathean Society to
criticise the Rising Stars. This was my special business. I prepared
what I called a scrap-basket. For this I would prepare notes from time
to time, as something would suggest them, and on the nights of public
exhibition, which were quite frequent, I would read them. These were
cuts at the young ladies and criticisms of their performances, as sharp
as I could make them. The result was, the whole Society soon got too
much out of humor to speak to me. They called me "Scraps." Even Sister
Giltner became offended, and was so for several months, till I was
brought down in sickness, and then her good heart conquered, and she
came to see me, bringing a load of delicacies to tempt and satisfy my
appetite. The "scrap" at which she became offended was about this:
Coming on the stage, the first scrap I took from the basket read: "We
do not expect many compliments for this dish of scraps, especially from
the young ladies of the boarding-house, as they are so used to being
fed on scraps, it will be no variety to them." Sister G. prided herself
on her good table. I knew it was good, and hence felt free to make the
jocular remark. Had it been otherwise, I should have felt some
hesitation in doing so.

President Giltner and I were in frequent conflict, and he came in for a
full share of notice from the scrap-basket. While I would not assent to
his views of things, which frequently caused disputation, on the whole
he was kind and generous, and did much to help me through those hard
school years. I have since met many of those young ladies in all parts
of the country, mothers of interesting families, but not one of them
had ever forgotten that scrap-basket.

Doctor Russell was my teacher in Latin and the Sciences, and Prof.
Henry Giltner in Mathematics and Greek. The Doctor was a fine moralist,
but an unbeliever. He was a fine teacher, and very popular with the
boys.

In the public debates in our society, Bro. J. B. Briney and I were
always pitted against each other. We were the oldest and the nearest
equal in our advancement, especially in this line. We had quite a
number of public discussions.

Here, as elsewhere, many went through on the shoulders of others. As an
illustration of this, take two young men who were appointed on public
debate. Soon each came to me insisting that I should write his speech.
I refused both. The time was drawing nigh, and neither had done
anything. One evening one of them went home with me from school, and
compelled me, virtually, to write his speech. He was delighted with it.
The next morning, while he was asleep, I got up and wrote a reply, just
"tearing it all to flinders." The negative gained the decision, and
neither one knows to this day that I wrote the speech of the other.

During the winter of 1862-3 I went to Hendronsville, the old church
that now composes the one at Smithfield, to fill an appointment for
Bro. Giltner. I went to dinner with old Bro. Hieatt. On leaving, he
gave me a dollar--the first dollar I ever received for preaching.

In the summer of 1863 I held a meeting at Hendronsville, with Bro.
Giltner, for which I was liberally paid, all things considered, and
this was my first pay for a protracted meeting.

The same vacation, I went to South Fork, in Boone county, to fill an
appointment for Bro. Wm. Tandy. Bro. Jacob Hugley was to come on the
first of the week, and join me in a protracted meeting. Something
prevented him from coming. I soon ran out of sermons, the supply on
hand being small. In the meantime a fine interest had sprung up, and I
had no excuse for quitting. So I had either to face the music, prepare
and preach two sermons a day, or ingloriously surrender. The meeting
continued two weeks, with some eighteen or twenty additions. During the
same trip I held a meeting at a church near Walton, at which several
additions were made to the congregation.

I did but little preaching during the school term. Convenient churches
could not be obtained, and inconvenient ones took too much of my time
to be given for nothing.

At Eminence I first met Bro. I. B. Grubbs. He came to preach for a few
days, and spent a day at our humble home. I then formed for him a
peculiar attachment, which has grown and strengthened with the passing
years. Our minds ran close together in the channels of divine truth,
and they have never materially diverged. A disagreement between us in
the interpretation of Scripture has been very rare.

Old Bro. T. M. Allen preached for the church at Eminence while I was
there. His sermons were enjoyable, and possessed considerable power,
but they lacked logical construction, and I learned but little from
them.

In a few weeks after going to Eminence, in the fall of 1862, we were
blessed with the birth of a third daughter, and in the summer of 1864
the Lord took her to himself, and left us to mourn her absence.

In June, 1864, I went with Willis and Wallace Cox to Daviess county, to
hold some meetings. Wallace was not able to preach, but went along for
the enjoyment of the trip. He had labored there before, and was well
acquainted. We held a meeting at Owensboro, and one at a new church
some eight miles in the country. Both meetings were moderately
successful.

As an evidence of what some men can do, I shall speak of a meeting held
about this time, _without giving place or name_. The meeting had been
successful, and a fine interest prevailed. The night it was to close
there came a severe storm, and no one was out. We had to leave the next
morning, and on the next Lord's day the brethren raised considerable
money and gave it to the preacher to send to us. Some years after, the
brother who was with me in the meeting went back there to preach for
the church, and while there some one asked him whether he and I
received our money all right. This was the first intimation that any
money had been sent to us. The case was investigated by the church, and
the man confessed he had never sent it. The brother got his, and the
thief preacher promised to send mine, but hasn't done it yet. He is
still preaching, and on several occasions has come a long way to hear
me preach. What kind of a face and heart such a man can have, is a
mystery I have never been able to solve!

CHAPTER IX.

Leaves College. Goes to Alexandria, Ky. An Adventure in Ohio. A Baby
_not_ Baptized. Peril in Crossing the River. Opens His School. Makes
Some Money. Buys a Nice Home.

Having obtained a sufficient knowledge of Latin, Greek, and various
sciences, to enable me to prosecute my education without a teacher, and
my health being bad through close application and hard living, and
feeling that I ought not to subject my family to such hardships any
longer, I determined, very reluctantly, to leave college, at least for
a time. I had now been at Eminence two years, and I shall ever thank
God that even for this short time I was able to gratify my burning
desire to acquire knowledge. It was at a great sacrifice we went there
and remained as long as we did, but we have never once regretted it.

Through the influence of President Giltner, we secured the High School
at Alexandria, Campbell county, Ky. This had been conducted for some
years previously by Bros. O. A. and Chester Bartholomew, under the name
of the "Mammoth Institute." I visited the place, and arranged to
conduct the school and preach for the church there, which was small and
financially weak; but there was no other in reach. So I could not do
better than to give them all my time, at whatever could be raised in
the way of salary. They had a nice little brick house, and a number of
good members, and for several years the church prospered; but the
county filled up with Germans, some of the best members moved away, and
the cause went down. The house was sold, and to-day we have no church
in the place.

After completing arrangements to preach and teach, I went over to
Hamersville, Brown county, O., to see some relatives. A brother and
sister of my father lived there, besides other relatives. My uncle had
a large family. I had never visited any of them, and now being near and
having a little time, I borrowed a horse and rode over. I sent an
appointment for Lord's day at Hamersville, and got there about the
middle of the week. I found that an appointment had not been made for
Sunday morning, but for night. The reason was, the Methodists were to
have a quarterly meeting in the woods near town--a big affair--and
everybody was going. Hence I could get no hearing in the morning. I
went to the meeting, as it was the only place to which to go. It was
thought that three thousand people were on the ground. There were seven
preachers. It was during the darkest period of the war, and every man
from the south side of the Ohio River was looked upon with suspicion. I
had been there several days, and quite a number knew who I was and
where I was from. I took a seat near the stand, and when they prayed,
in conformity with their custom, I kneeled in the leaves. The old
preacher who "led in prayer" yelled as if his congregation was a mile
away and God was on a journey. He began by praying for the President;
then his Cabinet; then the Senate; then the Representatives; then the
generals; then the colonels; then the captains; then the private
soldiers. All this I tolerated, but did not say Amen. Finally he prayed
for the utter extermination of the Southern people. He besought God to
wipe them out of existence--men, women and children--from the Ohio
River to the Gulf of Mexico. This blasphemy and contemptible wickedness
I could not endure, and I arose from my knees. Perhaps five hundred
people saw me when I got up. The point in the prayer at which I got up
aroused suspicion, and inquiry was in a moment rife. They learned who I
was and where I was from, and the excitement grew intense. Numerous
threats were made to hang me on a limb there and then. The country was
full of what they called "copperheads," who had kept very quiet,
because it was to their interest to do so, but now they were aroused,
and any attempt at violence would have led to the most serious trouble.
During the intermission at noon, men of different politics congregated
in different groups, in earnest conversation, and the meeting was
forgotten in the excitement over a refusal to indorse that prayer. I
was waited on by a committee to know if it was my political feelings
that caused me to get up when I did. Without hesitation, I confessed
that it was. Then they said, "What more need have we of evidence?" It
was finally decided, so we were informed, that I would not be allowed
to preach at night--that they would egg me, etc. But at night, not only
the house, but the yard, was full of "copperheads" who meant
"business," and I preached without molestation.

They had been holding these meetings at various places throughout the
country, and at all of them sprinkled all the children that their
parents could be induced to bring. One lady had a bright little boy
about eighteen months old, and when the Presiding Elder took him to
"baptize" him, he said, "Sister, name this child." She responded, "His
name is Vallandigham." He flew into a perfect rage, handed the child to
her as if it were burning his fingers, saying, "If you want this child
baptized you will have to change its name. I will baptize no child
named for a traitor." The mother took the child and departed. We
presume that had its name been Jeff. Davis, he would have broken its
neck on the spot. Such was the "religion" of that class at that time.
The speeches on the day alluded to were nothing but political harangues
of the most exciting nature. Previously I had thought they had politics
and religion mixed, but I now discovered that there was no mixture
about it.

On my return, I had a little adventure in crossing the river. The ferry
was at New Richmond. The boat was a small affair, propelled by poles
and oars. It was just wide enough for a wagon, and had railings on the
sides. A two-horse wagon went in before me. When we got some distance
out into the river, one of the horses jumped over the railing, and
caused the boat to careen so that it was filling rapidly. It was
astonishing how those river men, who, perhaps, had been reared on the
water, became excited. They seemed almost incapable of any intelligent
action, but yelled like so many savages. I decided at once upon my
course. I got into the wagon, calculating that the water would probably
not come to my head while standing up, should the boat go down. If it
should, then I determined to take my horse by the tail and let him tow
me ashore. But the owner of the team succeeded in cutting the harness,
thus freeing the horse and allowing the boat to right itself so that it
did not sink.

We moved from Eminence to Alexandria, and boarded with a gentleman by
the name of Brown. He had a nice family, a good house, and he was a
clever gentleman, and a "hardshell" Baptist of the first water.

Our school opened about the first of September, with seventy-eight
pupils, and it soon increased to 130. Not expecting so many, I had
secured no assistant but my wife; and the result was, we were both
over-worked. I had to hear several classes out of school hours,
especially in Latin and Greek. There were some young men in these
studies, clerks, merchants, etc., who were not otherwise in the school,
and these recitations were in the evening after school was dismissed.
This, with preaching every Lord's day, worked me very hard. The school
paid well, and for the first time since I gave up business for the
gospel of Christ, I made some money.

In a few months, as soon as I saw an open road to success, I bought a
nice little cottage and two acres of ground, from Bro. Giltner, at
$1,200. He had taken it for a school debt, and let us have it on
reasonable terms. It was nicely improved, and altogether a desirable
piece of property. Thus for the first time we had a home of our own.
This is a luxury that comparatively few preachers can enjoy. Moving
from place to place as, for example, Methodist preachers have to do, is
unfavorable to domestic happiness. How few members of our churches ever
think of this, or make allowance for the discomfort frequent changes of
residence impose upon the families of their preachers! To own a home
and have the taste and the means to adorn it, is an educational force
in any family; its lack, a great misfortune.

CHAPTER X.

Narrow Escapes. Is Thrown from a Horse. Has Pneumonia. Nearly Killed.
Self-possession. Almost Drowned. Eludes Angry Soldiers. Reflections.

During the Christmas holidays we went down to Oldham county to see our
relatives. While there, an event occurred, the recollection of which
brings up a chapter of NARROW ESCAPES hitherto untold, a few of which I
shall relate in their order.

When about thirteen years of age, a horse on which I was riding in a
slow walk and on a level road, fell, throwing me over its head and
coming over on top of me. It broke both bones of my left ankle and
several ribs, mashing in my left breast, which has ever since been much
depressed; it never developed like the other, and the lung on that side
is the one now chiefly affected. This accident occurred at
Ballardsville, on a public day, some three miles from home. I was taken
to the home of Dr. Swaine, our family physician, near which it
happened. He was absent, and a doctor from Shelby county was called. He
had a carpenter to make a box, reaching from my foot to my knee, and in
this he put my leg. The box was straight on the bottom, and as the
break was just in the hollow between the calf and the heel, anybody
that had any sense should have known that the broken part would settle
down level with the rest, and a bad job be the result. It was badly
set, and gave me much trouble for several years.

Following this, in successive winters, I had two severe spells of
pneumonia in that left lung, in both of which my life was despaired of.

One day I was hauling heavy barn sills. They were swung under the hind
axle, and the pole was tied by a chain back around the sill. The chain
caught on a solid rock in the road, and, as I had four strong horses,
and they all came to a dead pull, the chain broke; then the pole came
over with force enough to have mashed every bone in a man's body. The
horses happened to be on a straight pull, and the pole just brushed by
my right shoulder and side. Had it struck me, I might as well have been
struck by a cannon-ball. That ended my dragging logs without a block
under the front end of the pole.

While trading in Louisville, a grocery firm with which I dealt to some
extent had a clerk who was very dissipated at times. He was a desperate
character, and, when drinking, was very dangerous. One day I sold them
a lot of bacon, and this clerk, who almost had delirium tremens at the
time, made a mistake in weighing it. When I told him of it, he took it
as an accusation of intentional swindling. Instantly he came at me with
a large cheese knife, swearing vengeance and his eyes flashing fire.
There was nothing in reach with which to defend myself, and I could not
well get out of his way. I decided instantly on the only possible way
of escape. I stood perfectly still, did not move a hand, and looked him
steadily in the eye. When he got to me, he hesitated a moment, and the
uplifted hand with the huge knife dropped to his side. Not a word was
spoken, nor did my eye fall from his, and he turned and went back to
his work.

During the summer after I confessed the Saviour, quite a number of
hands were harvesting at my father-in-law's. On Saturday evening we
went to a large pond near by to bathe. It was made to supply a saw-mill
by throwing a large dam across a hollow. It covered, perhaps, an acre
of ground, and was twelve or fifteen feet deep in places. I never could
swim successfully, but a number of those present were good swimmers,
and there were many slabs on the pond that would float several men. I
told them I believed I could swim across the pond, and if I could not
there were too many good swimmers present to let me drown. I swam
across once, and, after resting a moment, started back. When I got
about the middle, I missed my stroke and went down. I thought nothing
of it at first, fully expecting that when I came to the top they would
save me. I came to the top, could hear them yelling like Indians, but
no one came to my rescue. I took breath and went down again. When I
came up the second time the result was the same. When I came up the
third time, and no one there to help me, I began to get a little uneasy
and considerably out of humor. I was becoming exhausted, and I knew
that I could not come to the top more than once or twice more. I tried
to go to the bottom, knowing that if I could touch bottom I could
spring to the surface without exertion. But I could not reach the
bottom. I came up the fourth time; still no one gave me assistance. By
summoning the entire stock of remaining strength, I came up the fifth
time. As I did so, a strong young man, Sparks by name, a good swimmer,
caught me by the left arm near the shoulder. He told me to take hold of
him, but this I refused to do. I thought this might endanger him, and
that if I would be perfectly passive he could manage me with no danger
to himself. But when I would not take hold of him, he let me go and
swam off and left me. Another man was within ten feet at the time,
coming to his assistance. When I went down this time, I was satisfied
they were going to let me drown. I felt that I could not come to the
top again, and could not reach the bottom. I thought if I could reach
the bottom I could crawl out by springing to the top now and then for
breath. But I could not touch bottom. I then began to calculate the
chances of their getting my body out in time to resuscitate it. I knew
it would not take long to cut the dam and drain the pond; but, when I
reflected that they had not the presence of mind to do anything, I lost
all hope in that direction. I saw no chance for me, and regarded the
end as come. The reflection that I had obeyed the gospel was intensely
joyous. During the whole time I had not strangled, knowing that it
would be fatal. A young man named Gipson--Sam Gipson--one of the owners
of the mill, was some eighty yards away, filing the saw. When Sparks
swam away and left me, Gipson saw they were going to let me drown, and
ran to my assistance. He got on one of the large slabs, and came in to
where I had gone down. I was still making some commotion in the water,
and, guessing about where I was, he pushed a plank down that came just
under my left arm. I knew what it was, and pressed it to my side. He
then bore on the other end and brought me to the surface. He held on
thus till others came and helped me upon the slab. As soon as I got
breath a few times I appeared to be all right, and they thought I was
only playing a trick on them; but in a few moments I tumbled over,
became black in the face, and suffered intensely for several hours.

On one occasion during the war I went into Floydsburg, on the morning
after Christmas day. There was a little squad of Confederates there,
belonging to the command of Col. Jessee, of New Castle, Ky. One of them
was a boy, named Hall, who went from that neighborhood. The rest were
strangers. I was introduced to the lieutenant in command, and had some
talk with him. The main street of the town runs east and west. About
the middle, the Brownsboro road comes in from the north, at a right
angle. This comes down a "branch" which crosses the main street. At the
east end of town the road descends into another hollow. Some of the
soldiers were inside, some sitting outside, of a blacksmith shop, and
some on their horses. I had walked near the east end, till I was just
on the ridge between the two hollows. I was standing at the door of
Col. Wilson, talking to his wife, when several companies of negroes,
stationed at La Grange under the command of white men, came marching
into town. They were a terror to the whole country. A little negro boy,
chopping wood just at the east edge of town, informed the commander,
who was riding in front, that the rebels were at the shop. Instantly
everything was quieted, and a stealthy march for the shop began. From
my position I could see both parties, and that the rebels were wholly
unsuspecting. While they were nothing to me, and I had but little
sympathy with them, for they were not in the regular service, I could
not stand and see them surprised and shot. I determined to warn them.
Mrs. Wilson tried to dissuade me, assuring me that it would be certain
death. I confess I could see it in no other light myself, yet I could
not decline. I walked down the street with an unconcerned air, about
forty yards in advance of the company. The lieutenant was sitting on
his horse sidewise, with his face turned from me, talking to a
Presbyterian preacher. I could see the eyes of the preacher over the
shoulders of the horse, but he was looking up into the face of the
other man, and I could catch the eye of neither. Finally, I had to stop
and make lively demonstrations in the face of the whole negro command.
When the attention of the Confederates was attracted, they endeavored
to escape by the Brownsboro road, and a charge from the other company
was instantly ordered. Each company opened fire on the other. I was on
the side of the street next to the Brownsboro road, and hence thrown
into all of the crossfire. I stood perfectly still till the entire
colored company passed by me. One man fell within a few feet of me, and
afterwards died. They had a running fight till they got out of hearing.
They caught young Hall, the only one I knew, and killed him.
Notwithstanding the agreeable disappointment at not finding myself
killed, I concluded that it might not be healthy to stay around there.
The town contained one of the most unprincipled white men that ever
went unhung. He was a sneak thief, and made it his business to get
Southern men into trouble. I saw him watching me all the time. I
concluded, therefore, that it would be better for me to leave town
before the soldiers got back. I had not gone more than a mile when they
returned, and threatened to burn the town if I was not produced. They
were watching me from the first, and the only thing that saved me was
they concluded that they could attend to me after they got through with
the rebels. They were told that I had left town, and were put on the
wrong road in search of me. I was then notified, and my holiday visit
terminated suddenly.

When I think now of the many narrow escapes from death before I was a
child of God, a number of which are not recorded, my heart overflows
with gratitude for the kind Providence that spared me till I knew the
way of life and had the precious promises of God. An ungodly man may be
brave, and face death without a tremor, but only a child of God can
face certain death as it comes on apace in the stillness of the sick
chamber, and when the body is wasted with disease, in perfect composure
and even inexpressible joy.

CHAPTER XI.

He Abandons the School-room. Remarkable Meeting near Alexandria.
Incidents. Establishes a Church. Mischief-making Preachers. Long and
Severe Attack of Typhoid Fever. Does not Lose Hope. Gratitude.

After teaching a year, I decided to abandon the school-room and give
myself wholly to the preaching of the Word. In the summer of 1865 I did
some mission work in Boone county, under the direction of the State
Board. In August, I held a meeting in Campbell county, about five miles
from Alexandria. The circumstances were a little peculiar. The Baptist
meeting-house in Alexandria had been blown down, and they were using
our house, at our invitation, every Lord's day afternoon, till they
could rebuild. They had a house about five miles in the country, and a
large congregation. Nearly the whole community were Baptists, and they
claimed a kind of preëmption. We had not a member in the neighborhood.
I was exceedingly anxious to hold a meeting in the very center of this
stronghold, and thought that as they were using our house, they would
grant me the use of theirs; but they would not. They offered to let me
have it for one sermon, but not for a protracted meeting. This did not
suit my purpose; and as there was an old log school-house near by, I
made an appointment for a meeting in this, which was to begin on Sunday
afternoon; and a few friends went with me from town. When we arrived at
the place, not a soul was on the ground; so having waited after the
time, and no one coming, I decided at once that the Baptists had
reported the appointment withdrawn, so that when I came and found no
one, I would be disgusted, and return home. But I was not disposed to
be defeated in that way. There was no brother in reach with whom I
could stay, but I told the friends to go back to town and leave me, and
that I would hold the meeting, "if I had to sleep in the woods, live on
pawpaws, and drink out of the 'branch.'" So they left me.

There was a man living about a mile away whom the Baptists had excluded
about a year before, and who had no good feeling for them. Concluding
that that would be the best chance for shelter, I went to the house,
and learned from him that the appointment had indeed been
countermanded, just as I suspected. He promised me food and shelter
while I held the meeting. A number of neighbor boys were there with
his, and these were told to circulate the appointment for next night.
The following day he and I went and cleaned the house, putting in some
"anxious seats," fixing it to hold as many as possible. He sent his
boys out through the neighborhood notifying the people, and that night
we had about thirty present. The next night the house was full; and
from this on we had large audiences, day and night. In a few days we
built an arbor in front, and seated it; then, standing in the door, I
preached to those within and without. The meeting continued two weeks,
and resulted in fifty-two additions. Twenty-seven of these were from
that Baptist Church, and the rest by confession. A few of the
twenty-seven, the man with whom I lodged among the number, were not in
the fellowship of the church at that time.

Several incidents occurred during the meeting. A very wicked man began
to attend, and one night he felt that he could stand the fire no
longer; but as I was in the door, preventing his escape in that
direction, he leaped out of a window, and ran off into the woods. In
about ten minutes he came crowding in from the outside, to make the
confession.

A Baptist man became interested in the meeting, but his wife was so
bitter in her feelings that she would not attend. He finally prevailed
upon her to come. Going home, he asked her how she liked it. "Better
than I expected," was the reply. No more was said, but the next day she
came without persuasion. When asked the same question, she said, "They
don't preach what I thought they did." He was anxious to unite with us
on the Bible, but was waiting in the hope of getting her to come with
him. The next day she was in the house and he on the outside, and he
did not know till the meeting was over that she had come forward and
been received into the fellowship.

At this meeting a gentleman came and asked me to marry him that night
after the services should be over. I told him I could not, as I had not
obtained license to marry. He then asked if I would object to his
getting a Methodist preacher who lived several miles away. That night
there was a great crowd, and I saw nothing of the preacher, but while
we were singing an invitation song a gentleman came pushing in, and
gave me his hand. I thought, of course, he wanted to make the
confession, and I tried to seat him with the others who had come
forward; but he would not. He soon became excited, and, tearing himself
loose, forced his way into the crowd. Just then some one whispered to
me that that was the Methodist preacher. It was a long time before the
services closed, and he was still so embarrassed that it was with great
difficulty he performed the required ceremony. He hurried away without
speaking to me, and then sent his apology, stating that he was so
mortified over his blunder that he could not speak to me about it that
night.

On account of the numbers, the distance from town, and the want of
facilities for attendance there on the part of many of the converts,
they insisted upon having a church of their own at the school-house.
Under the circumstances it was thought best to comply with their
request. No officers were appointed as such, because of inexperience,
but several brethren were designated as those who should take a general
oversight of the flock, conduct their worship, etc., but none had
authority; and all were exhorted to be in subjection one to another.
They met every Lord's day and broke the loaf, and had prayer-meeting
Wednesday night. A large number took part in the worship. They had
frequent confessions, and a blacksmith across Licking River, who
preached, met them at the water, when notified, to attend to baptizing.
They thus grew in a few months from the fifty-two to seventy-five, when
two mischief-making preachers visited them and insisted that without
ordained elders and deacons they were no church at all, and finally
prevailed upon them to have a number of men ordained. I was sick, and
knew nothing that was going on. These ignorant novices thought there
was no use in having authority unless it were exercised. So they began
to crack their ecclesiastical whip, and the peace of the church was
disturbed. Things went from bad to worse till the whole congregation
went to pieces. Thus a good work was destroyed by the folly of two
ignorant, self-important preachers. Much mischief has been done in our
reformatory work by hasty organization. Like the New Testament
churches, we should have no ordained officers till we have material out
of which to make them.

About September 10, 1865, I was stricken down with typhoid fever. I had
a good physician, and he nursed me with the utmost care. During that
sickness he came to see me a _hundred and thirty_ times. For over seven
weeks there was not a hopeful symptom. He allowed no company in the
room but my wife and the nurses. He appointed good brethren to nurse
me, each night about. No one else was allowed to touch me, except my
wife. I did not see my two little children for over two months, though
they were all the time in the house. After seven weeks he told me that
for the first time he saw a slight indication of recovery. After I
became convalescent, he said, in talking over the case, that he could
attribute my recovery to but two things--my confidence all the time
that I should get well, and the faith I had in my physician. He
determined this latter by saying that I followed his direction minutely
in everything. Theologically, he could not have given a better
definition of faith. He was a Baptist.

I never gave up for a moment, and would not allow my mother to be sent
for till I was far on the road to recovery. I got out for the first
time on Christmas day, but it was a year before I was able to resume
regular preaching; and even then, and for a long time afterwards, I
felt the effects of this terrible disease. Had it not been for the
close attention of the doctor, and the good nursing of my dear wife and
kind brethren, I am sure that attack of sickness would have sent me to
my grave. Truly, God has been very merciful to me in giving me friends
wherever I have lived, and I have ever felt I could not be grateful
enough or diligent enough in the service of my Redeemer and His church
to repay Him or them for all this undeserved goodness.

CHAPTER XII.

Sells Out at Alexandria. Moves to Crittenden. Preaches there and at
Williamstown. Low State of these Churches. Plan of Work. Memorizing in
Sunday-school. Lack of Church Discipline. One-Man System. Moves to New
Liberty. Visits Mount Byrd.

In the spring of 1866, we sold out at Alexandria, and spent most of the
summer in Oldham county, among our friends, while I was recuperating my
health.

The meeting-house at La Grange had been blown down in a storm, and at
the solicitation of the church I visited a number of congregations and
obtained help to rebuild it. Midway was one of the places visited. Bro.
Franklin was there holding a meeting. This was my first acquaintance
with that grand hero of the Cross of Christ.

In September we moved to Crittenden, Ky. I preached for that church and
at Williamstown, each half the time, for the rest of that year, and for
1867. The churches were both at low ebb. They had had no regular
preaching for some time; had not met on Lord's day; had no discipline;
and everything was in decay and disorder.

I decided upon a plan of work for each church. The first point was to
get them to meet on the Lord's day and break the loaf, having social
worship, when I could not be with them. This done, we carefully revised
the church records, excluding whom we could not induce to attend the
house of the Lord and to try to discharge their Christian duties. This
was followed by protracted meetings at neighboring school-houses,
through which quite a number were added to both churches. Meetings were
then held in each church. By this time both churches were in a
prosperous condition. They both had good Sunday-schools, and a number
of members were taking an active part in the work of the church. We
disposed of the old house in Williamstown, and got the new house roofed
in 1867. We also repaired the house at Crittenden, getting it in nice
order, and putting in a baptistery.

For the year 1868, the church at Crittenden wanted all my time, and I
gave up the church at Williamstown, devoting all my energies to the one
church. We arranged a book in which each member promised to pay so much
a week. Envelopes were given them, through which they were to pay their
weekly installment on each Lord's day. The congregations were large and
regular, and double the amount of money was thus collected that had
ever been raised before.

That was before the days of Sunday-school "helps," and we made
memorizing the Scriptures a prominent feature in the work. The first of
January, 1868, I offered a reward to the one memorizing and repeating
the most Scripture that year. Quite a number started in to win the
prize, but it was soon evident that the contest was between three
girls. The amount of Scripture memorized was immense. All the scholars
memorized largely. Soon it required a teacher's whole time to hear the
verses of one of those girls. Then we had them recite during the week;
and, finally, I had them examined on the Scripture committed, repeating
here and there as called on. This was harder than repeating it all. The
first of June another little girl entered the lists. On the day they
were examined they could repeat with ease and accuracy any passage
committed to memory during the year. They were examined for several
hours.

Incredible as it may appear, two of these girls committed the whole
Bible, and another committed Anderson's Translation of the New
Testament in addition; still another did not begin till June, and
committed the Bible by the end of the year. I never intended such a
result, nor can I approve that way of cramming the memory.

While the church at Crittenden was in other respects in a flourishing
condition (indeed, rather too much flourish), it was difficult to get
it to act promptly and strictly in the administration of discipline.
The officers and church generally had more lax ideas on that subject
than I had. But in this particular I suppose they were about on a par
with most other congregations in Kentucky, both among our people and
others. Indeed, I must confess that at that time I was unusually strict
in such matters. I wanted everything pertaining to the church to come
square up to the mark in all respects, and I was unnecessarily worried
over every shortcoming. On account of not having discipline attended to
as strictly as I desired, I was disposed to resign at the close of
1868. But the elders promised more hearty coöperation in the matter,
and I accepted for another year conditionally. I stated publicly that I
would begin on three months' trial, and if at the end of that time the
church had not so coöperated with me as to effect certain ends, our
engagement would close. I did not succeed in getting the coöperation
desired, and the first Lord's day in April I announced to a crowded
house that my relation to them as preacher had closed. It fell upon
them like a thunder-clap from a clear sky. I stated the reasons, which
they understood, but had not regarded. Thus ended my ministry with that
church.

My preaching at Crittenden, and the subsequent history of the church,
impressed upon me a very important lesson, upon which I acted in after
life. While everything was "booming," I could not teach them
self-reliance. They depended upon me. I had to take the lead in
everything. Consequently, when I left, it was just like taking the
engine off a big lot of machinery. Everything came to a standstill. I
feared this, and tried to guard against it. The material, however, was
of such a nature that it was next to impossible to get them to go
forward in church work without being led. But I was so impressed with
the virtual loss of my work then, that I made it a special point, ever
after, to develop the church in self-reliance, and make it largely
independent of a preacher.

In 1869 I decided that it was not best for the Master's cause for me to
longer give all my time to the Crittenden church, as I wanted them to
learn to do without me. So the first of January I engaged to preach for
the church at New Liberty, Owen county, one-half my time. Resigning at
Crittenden in April, in May I moved to New Liberty. Here I found a
good, substantial set of brethren, and did a substantial work. We soon
had a good Sunday-school, renovated the house, cut off a lot of dead
material, and got the church in good working order.

In May, 1869, I held a successful meeting in Owenton, and established
the cause in that place. Up to this time we had no organization there.
In 1870 I held them the second meeting. The cause continued to grow
there. In a few years they built a house of worship. The church has
generally been in a prosperous condition.

In August of this year, I held another meeting for my old home church,
Pleasant Hill. It resulted in a goodly number of additions. It was
always a peculiar pleasure to hold a meeting among these old
associates, and I held quite a number.

In August, 1869, Bro. I. B. Grubbs and I met at Mt. Byrd to hold a
protracted meeting. It was the first in their new house, after its
completion. We had an enjoyable and successful meeting. This was my
introduction to Mt. Byrd, which has since afforded me a home, has stood
by me through good and evil fortune, has never wavered in its devotion
and fidelity, and among whose good members my frail body will rest,
till it rises in the likeness of Christ.

Here I might as well express my views upon the lack of church
discipline, as they have been formed from an extensive observation in
this and other States. I must, however, do this briefly. No one can
read the epistles of the apostles, and especially those of Paul, and
not be profoundly impressed with the belief that the administration of
discipline engaged a large share of their attention; and we may infer
the necessity of this from the very nature of the case. The first
churches were largely formed of Gentile converts, and these came from
heathenism; and they had to be recovered from its debasing practices;
and even the converts from among the Jews had to be reformed from many
evil ways. Any one who will read even casually Paul's pastoral epistles
will see these evils and sins exposed. These were contrary to the
purity and benevolence of the new religion, and hence the necessity of
self-denial and constant diligence on the part of both people and
pastors.

"The times have changed and we have changed with them," but the _forms_
of sin have changed rather than the thing itself, and we have as much
need to practice watchcare over ourselves and others as ever. It was
Cain that asked, "Am I my brother's keeper?"

I am satisfied that the two crying needs in our Kentucky churches, and
I suppose elsewhere, are the faithful administration of discipline by
our elders and activity in Christian work by our members. I think we
are growing in the latter, and fear we are falling off in the former.
The reasons for both these opinions are not, in my opinion, hard to
find. Had I time and strength I should like to give them in full.

CHAPTER XIII.

History of the Mt. Byrd Church. When Established. Where. Charter
Members. Officers. Preachers. Number of Members. Three Things
Contributing to its Prosperity. New House of Worship. Serious Trouble
in the Church. How Settled. Method of Raising Money. The Church Builds
Allen a House. Organizes a Sunday-school. How it is Conducted.

Since the history of Mt. Byrd church from 1869 till my death will be an
inseparable part of my history, the two being linked together, the
church is destined to be known, and is known to-day, wherever I am
known. And as a part of its history will be given, I think it would be
more satisfactory to all who may feel interested in it, and more
profitable as a study, if an outline of its career from the beginning
were known. I therefore insert it here.

In 1832, Isaac Foster, then a Baptist preacher, came into this
community preaching the principles of reform as advocated by Thomas and
Alexander Campbell. The people gave heed to his teaching concerning the
kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, and on the second Lord's
day in September, 1832, at the house of David Floyd, on the top of the
Ohio River hill, opposite Hanover College, Ind., a church was
established. The following were the charter members: James Lindsey,
Hatty Ann Lindsey, William Maddox, Elizabeth Maddox, David Floyd, John
B. Floyd, Miss Mary A. Trout, Miss Catherine Trout, Miss Priscilla B.
Trout, Miss Sally Trout, Miss Saloma Overpeck, Miss Julia Ann Lindsey,
Miss Artamisia Cooper, Mrs. Minerva Cooper.

James Lindsey and his wife, Hatty A., were formerly members of the Old
Christian Connection, at Cane Ridge, Ky. William Maddox and his wife,
Elizabeth, were from the Baptists. The rest were admitted by immersion.

William Maddox and John B. Floyd were appointed elders, and David Lloyd
deacon.

For a time they met and worshiped in private houses. They then built a
meeting-house, near the river bluff, on the farm of Bro. David Floyd.
It was of hewed logs, and primitive in architecture. It was called Mt.
Olivet. They met every Lord's day to break bread, to worship God and to
edify one another in love. Much of the long-continued prosperity of the
Mt. Byrd church is doubtless due to beginning with good material and on
correct principles.

In that early day the church enjoyed the visits of such men as Isaiah
Cornelius, Allen Kendrick, L. L. Fleming, Jesse Mavity, Wm. Brown, and
others. The church increased in number rapidly.

In a short time several families of standing and influence moved into
the present neighborhood of Mt. Byrd and south of it, from Woodford
county, Ky. The house was unfavorably located, being on the extreme
edge of the territory from which the membership must come. It was
agreed by all parties to build another house, farther back from the
river, in a more desirable locality. About 1837 this house was built on
the farm of Bro. Robert Moffett, at the crossing of the Strother and
Cooper roads, about two and one-half miles from the other house, and
one and one-half south of Milton. It was a commodious frame building.
The site is now on the corner of Bro. Allen's place, two hundred yards
from his house. It was called Mt. Byrd, from the fact that it was on
part of a large survey of land known as the Byrd survey; and the "Mt."
was due to its elevation. It was understood that so soon as certain
obstacles were removed, the two churches were to become one. Hence the
house was used a year or two before our organization was established.
And, in one view of the case, Mt. Byrd had its origin in 1832; and in
another, in 1839.

On the second day of August, being the first Lord's day, 1839, an
organization was established on the following covenant:

"We, the undersigned individuals, agree to have fellowship with
each other, and to be united together in the bonds of Christian
affection according to all the rules of conduct and requirements of
God, as contained in His Word--the Scriptures of the Old and New
Testaments."

CHARTER MEMBERS.

Robert Moffett, Elizabeth Moffett, Lucinda Moffett, Sarah Ann
Moffett, Catherine Stipes, Alexander Moffett, Nancy Moffett, Emily
Moffett, Harriet Moffett, Jane Moffett, Porter Fisher, Caroline
Fisher, Hayden Fisher, Robert Thompson, Anna F. Thompson, Polly
Blake, Elizabeth Taylor, Susan Taylor, Zachariah Taylor, Sally
Taylor.

Porter Fisher was chosen elder.

In September following, Dr. Curtis J. Smith and Newton Short held them
a meeting, resulting in forty additions.

The members of the first organization began to move their membership to
Mt. Byrd, and soon the two congregations were one.

The following is a list of the overseers of the church, in their order,
from its establishment till 1885:

Porter Fisher, Hayden Fisher, John B. Floyd, James Jones, Samuel
Morris, John A. Bain, Isaac Trout, John S. Maddox, Jacob Trout,
George Craig, F. G. Allen.

The following are the names of the preachers who have served the church
a stated length of time:

Porter Fisher, Hiram Stark, J. Newton Payne, Dr. C. J. Smith, Henry
Rice, Jesse Mavity, Dr. Sadler, J. A. Bain, G. B. Moore, A. A.
Knight, J. C. Walden, J. V. Price, F. G. Allen.

In addition to meetings held by the regular preachers, it has enjoyed
the evangelistic labors of some of the ablest preachers in the
Reformation.

From its organization to June, 1885, there were added to the church, at
various times and in various ways, 982 members. At this time (June 12,
1885) the membership is 350.

In addition to removals, deaths, exclusions, etc., we gave a large
number to the Bedford Church when it last organized (1874), and our
colored membership organized to themselves in 1877. Also the nucleus of
the Beech Grove church went from here.

Three things, that have had much to do with the prosperity of this
church, deserve special mention--their course during the war, their way
of choosing church officers, and their method of church discipline.

During the war the church remained in a peaceful and prosperous
condition. At the beginning they were of one mind in the decision that
the religion of Christ was more important to them than political
interests; that the war would end, but that the kingdom of God would
not, and that they would stand for the things that could not be shaken
by the shock of arms. A large number of young men of the community were
in the service, and they wanted to be in a spiritual condition to take
care of such of them as should return. Though soldiers of both armies
were frequently in the neighborhood, the church continued the service
of God and the discharge of Christian duty as if the peace of the
country was undisturbed. Consequently, when the war was over, they had
no alienations to adjust, no broken down walls to rebuild, no breaches
to close up. They needed no reconstruction. Their history demonstrates
that even cruel war need not necessarily alienate the people of God.
The congregation was not a unit in political sympathy, but they allowed
no mixing of politics with religion, in the pulpit or elsewhere, on
either side. Strong rebels from Kentucky and strong Union men from
Indiana filled the pulpit during the time, but with the understanding
that they preach the gospel and not politics--no difference was made.

Till 1867 the method of selecting church officers was by popular
ballot. They were thus selected according to the feelings, and tastes,
and prejudices of men, women and children, many of whom are always
controlled by personal likes and dislikes. At this time a change was
made that resulted in great good. The change was to this effect, that a
committee in whom the church have perfect confidence be appointed to
select elders and deacons. When selected, their names are submitted to
the congregation, and two weeks given during which objections may be
made privately to the committee. Should objections be made to any one,
which are considered valid, and can not be removed, that name is
dropped and another substituted. It is understood from the beginning,
by all parties, that the objections are to be kept private, and if a
candidate is dropped on account of objections, he has no right to
demand the name of the objector nor the objections. When objections are
not made, or they no longer exist, it is understood that the selection
is ratified by the church. The parties are then set apart to their work
by fasting, prayer and the laying on of hands. In this way a better
selection is made, and the church is much more impressed with the
importance of the official work, and of their obligation to those set
apart, as co-operants in the work. The plan gave entire satisfaction,
and the church ever after observed it.

When I began to preach for the church, I introduced a plan of
disciplinary work which I had observed since my labors with the
Crittenden Church. The leading idea in it was to save the offender, and
the church was impressed with that fact. The relatives and friends of
the offending party were enlisted in an effort with the preachers and
elders to save him, with the understanding that if this could not be
done, the law of the Lord must be enforced in his exclusion. Such
efforts rarely failed, and, when they did, those most likely to be hurt
about his exclusion felt that they had failed in trying to save him,
and that all was done that could be done. When such efforts failed, the
case was then stated to the church, and if any one thought that he
might accomplish something, and wished an opportunity to try, action
was delayed till he did what he could, and thus the whole moral force
of the church was exerted. When all felt that nothing more could be
done, the law of the Lord was executed, the church withdrew its
fellowship, and the occasion was made as solemn and impressive as
possible. There was no voting as to whether or not they would exclude
him. That is a matter of divine legislation on which we have no right
to vote. The sense of the congregation was taken only as to whether or
not they had done all they could to save the offender, and had thus
complied with the law of the Lord in this respect. In twenty years,
with much attention to disciplinary work, I have never had the least
trouble or evil consequence result from a case of exclusion.

In 1867 they built a new house of worship, about a quarter of a mile
nearer Milton than was the old house. It is a large and substantial
frame.

When Mt. Byrd was established there were several strong Methodist and
Baptist churches within a few miles. They have all dwindled into
comparative insignificance, and Mt. Byrd has the controlling influence
in the county. Her territory extends sixteen miles along the Ohio River
and eight miles back.

I engaged to preach for Mt. Byrd Church one-half my time, beginning the
first of October, 1869. It is thirty miles from New Liberty, and at
that time it was reached by a dirt road terribly muddy in the winter. I
went back and forth on horseback. I arranged to have my two Sundays
come together, and spent the intervening week visiting the congregation
and preaching at some neighboring school-house. I thus made but one
trip a month. My health was very poor, and each visit I made they
thought would be the last.

After I began preaching at Mt. Byrd, I discovered a very serious
trouble in the church, of which I before knew nothing. I saw, from its
nature and the men involved in it, that unless it was peaceably and
permanently settled, the church would be effectually ruined. And
circumstances indicated that it was next to impossible to secure such a
settlement. I was deeply concerned about it.

The difficulty grew out of a man's making engagements to teach two
schools at once, and consequently having to disappoint one of the
parties. They had depended on him, and thereby lost the opportunity of
getting a good teacher. They felt grievously wronged, and sued for
damages. The teacher was a poor man, not able to fight the suit, and he
so worked upon his patrons that they promised to stand by him and
defend him in court. A large number of good and influential brethren
were involved in it, and they had worked up a very bad state of
feeling. Bro. J. S. Maddox, the leading elder, stood by me faithfully
in the work. We labored incessantly day and night for over two weeks
before we accomplished our purpose. I preached in the two school-houses
alternately, day and night, so as to reach all of both parties; for
they would not go to each other's houses. The rest of the time was
spent in visiting and laboring privately with the disaffected members.
The preaching was all directed to the one special end. Sometimes we
would have it nearly completed as we thought, and then the trouble
would break out again. One day our hearts beat with joyous hope, and
the next we were depressed and discouraged.

Finally, they agreed to arbitrate the matter if I alone would act as
arbitrator. I tried hard to reason them out of this, for I felt almost
certain that I would sacrifice myself in so doing. I felt that I could
hardly hope to retain the friendship of both parties in such a
complicated matter, over which there was so much bad feeling. But,
finding that there was no other way of settlement, I concluded that the
sacrifice of myself was a small matter as compared with the ruin of the
church, and I consented. All parties agreed to abide by my decision in
good faith, bury all their animosities, and be at peace among
themselves. I wrote out carefully the whole case, giving my decision on
each point, and the reasons therefor. I read it at a meeting at which
all were present. They all signed it, and the trouble was forever
ended. Both parties kept it in good faith, and I retained their
fraternal love.

When the church had been "rounded up," and all dead matter cast off, we
had 240 members on the list. Some new deacons were appointed, till we
had seven in all. Not because there were seven appointed at Jerusalem,
but because we needed that number and had material out of which to make
them. We divided the congregation into seven districts, each deacon
having his boundary defined. Each had a list of all the members in his
district, and it was his duty to obtain a subscription from each member
and collect it. Each child of a family made his own subscription. All
were expected to give something, unless they were beneficiaries of the
church. This system has several advantages: (1) More money is obtained
than when given only by heads of families. (2) Each one feels that he
is a factor in the church, not an overlooked cipher, and this does him
good. It stimulates him to do something. (3) In training each one to
give, however little they may be able, there is developed in them a
right spirit and a very important principle.

A business meeting was held every three months. At these the deacons
made their reports, and squared accounts with the preacher. Thus the
exact financial condition of the church was known. Cases of discipline,
missions, charities, and everything pertaining to the interests of the
church, were freely discussed. A record was kept of everything done.
These meetings were held on Saturday, and the next day a statement was
made to the church of what was done, and their sanction obtained to
such matters as it was thought best to submit.

With a thorough organization, systematic working, and the happy
settlement of the big trouble over which all were filled with anxiety,
the church took on new life, and ever after continued in an active,
growing condition.

The brethren soon petitioned me to move into their midst. I jocularly
told them I would do so if they would give me a good home. The
suggestion was no sooner made than accepted. Bro. J. H. Moffett gave me
eight acres of ground just where I wanted it, and he and the rest of
the brethren agreed to build me a house. I was permitted to plan just
such a house as I wanted, and they would see that it was built. No
obligation whatever was required of me as a condition. I was free to
dispose of it and leave them at any time, if I wished to do so. It was
all a matter of trust. The outside improvements were also made mostly
by the brethren. I may say here that in the fifteen years I preached
for that church, not a man ever charged me a cent for anything he ever
did for me, and they did everything that I needed to have done.

In the spring of 1870 we organized a Sunday-school. It ranged usually,
one year with another, from 125 to 150. One peculiar feature about it
was that a large number of old people attended. In a word, the _church_
went into the Sunday-school. The teachers have all the time been of the
older brethren and sisters, and many men and women of middle age and
beyond have been in the classes. We kept a record of the attendance,
recitations, contributions, etc., thus indicating the regularity of the
work. The record shows that there were perfect, in recitations and
attendance, twenty-six in 1873, thirty-four in 1874, and twenty in
1875. This is a fair sample for the fifteen years. The school is still
in a fine condition. Some members have not missed a single recitation
in five years.

From the beginning we have adhered to the rule of opening on the last
Sunday in April and continuing till Christmas. The congregation being
scattered over a large district, and the roads being bad in winter, we
have been in the habit of dismissing the children for the rest of the
year; but all the older people form one class, and are taught the
Scriptures by the preacher or elder of the church from the first of
January till the last of April.

I am satisfied this is a good arrangement for churches in the country,
where the membership is much scattered. It works well at Mt. Byrd, and
I don't see why it may not work well elsewhere under the same
circumstances.

CHAPTER XIV.

He Moves to Mt. Byrd. Debate with J. W. Fitch. Preaches at Madison,
Ind. Protracted Meetings at Columbia, Burksville, Thompson's Church,
Dover, Germantown, Pleasant Hill, Burksville again, Beech Grove, Dover
again.

In September, 1870, we moved to the neighborhood of Mt. Byrd. My house
not being completed, we lived in the lower end of Hunter's Bottom,
above Milton. We spent here a very pleasant year. I gave a good deal of
time to the building, helping in whatever I could do, which was quite a
benefit to my health. I continued to preach at New Liberty half my time
during this year and 1871. The last of October, 1871, we got into our
new house. It is about three hundred yards from the church, beautifully
situated on the main thoroughfare to Milton and Madison.

In 1871 I held two meetings in Carrollton, Ky. The cause was very low
there at that time. Our band was feeble; and the place almost entirely
given to sectarianism. We had no place of worship, and the court-house
in which we met was not comfortable. Some of the prominent members had
become very worldly. Because I preached against their sins, they became
much offended, but the offense was to reformation. They afterwards
built a meeting-house, and they are now in good condition.

Nov. 2, 1871, I began my first public religious debate. It was at Mt.
Byrd, and with Presiding Elder J. W. Fitch. It came about in this way:
At a Quarterly Conference in the county, the preachers and prominent
men present, to the number of fourteen, drew up and sent me a formal
challenge to meet C. W. Miller, at Mt. Byrd (this being by far the
largest house in the county), and debate certain designated
propositions. At that time I had a very bad opinion of Mr. Miller, and
there was no good feeling existing between us. In reply to their
communication I said: "You have a number of brethren in Kentucky of
equal or superior ability to Mr. Miller, whom I can meet as Christian
gentlemen, and when I have the promise of such a disputant, I shall be
ready to arrange propositions." They then applied to Mr. Fitch, and a
correspondence between us was opened. My purpose then, and ever since
in debating with Methodists, was to discuss the _system_ of Methodism,
instead of a few isolated propositions. In that way the people see what
_Methodism_ is; in this, they do not. We finally agreed that each
would affirm that the polity and practice of the church with which he
was identified are authorized by the word of God.

An immense crowd attended the debate. The weather was beautiful, and we
had dinner on the ground. Each affirmed for three days. My affirmation
closed Saturday afternoon. The President Moderator announced that the
debate would be resumed at 10 o'clock Monday, on the polity of the
Methodist Church, Mr. Fitch affirming. Monday, Mr. Fitch declined to
discuss the polity of his church, giving as a reason that it was of no
consequence, and he wanted to give all his time to more important
matters. He further stated that he had agreed to discuss the polity of
the church simply in order to get the debate, not that it was worth
discussing. I happened to have in my pocket a letter in which he had
insisted on the discussion of the polity of the two churches as a very
important matter. This was read. The President Moderator--Col.
Preston--ruled that he must either debate the question, as agreed upon,
or concede that it was indefensible; and he yielded. We learned
afterward, just what we then suspected, that the preachers present, of
whom there were about twelve, held a council on Saturday night, and
protested against his discussing the polity of the church.

The debate created a great deal of interest and investigation in the
community, and within nine months following, over one hundred were
added to the church. Of these, quite a number were from the Baptists
and Methodists.

A rather curious thing occurred during the debate. While on the
practice of the M. E. Church, I made a raid on the mourners' bench,
describing its workings and demanding authority for it. Mr. Fitch
jumped up, very much excited, and called me to order. His point of
order was that the M. E. Church, South, had abandoned the mourners'
bench; that it was now countenanced only by a few ignorant preachers
for whose conduct the church was not willing to be held responsible.
And as it was no longer a part of the practice of the church, he was
not there to affirm that it was authorized by the word of God. The
President appealed to all the Methodist preachers present to know if
that was the case. The last one of them said "yes." In three weeks I
went to Carrollton to hold a meeting, and the two most prominent
preachers at the debate were there in a meeting, and they had the
mourners' bench out twice a day, and six or eight mourners were
striving to "get through!" What are we to think of such as that?

By preaching at adjacent school-houses, the membership of the church
was considerably increased. This plan was continued till my editorial
work on the _Guide_ interfered with it.

About seven miles back from Mt. Byrd the Methodists had an old house,
and a weak church where they years ago had a strong one. We had quite a
number of members in that neighborhood. By our assisting in rebuilding
the old chapel, we held by written contract a fourth interest in it.
This gave us the use of the house one Sunday in the month, and at such
other times as it was not occupied by the Methodists. This we did in
order to have a place to preach in that community, and especially for
protracted meetings. We also rented the Presbyterian house in Milton,
by the year, for the same purpose.

In 1872 I engaged to preach at Carrollton and White's Run, both in
Carroll county, once a month at each. I held a meeting for each church,
and got the membership, to some extent, reconstructed.

But in May I was called to preach for the church in Madison, Ind.,
one-half my time. It being so convenient--just across the river from
me--and an important field, I got the churches at Carrollton and
White's Run to release me, and I entered on my work in Madison the
first of June, 1871. I preached for them the rest of that year. I held
a protracted meeting in October. The number of additions for the seven
months was small. Finding that they needed a preacher all the time,
since they had no one to lead them in the absence of a preacher, and
wishing to devote half my time to evangelizing, I resigned and induced
them to get Bro. J. H. Hardin in my place.

In November, 1872, I had a fine meeting at Columbia, Ky. This was
before the college there was built. Bro. J. H. Hardin was preaching for
the church. Bro. Azbill has since built up the church, but was that
year in Butler University. The fruits of my first meeting there are
manifest to this day. Prominent among these is the efficient work of
Dr. U. L. Taylor, who was formerly a Methodist, but for years has been
the stay of the congregation and college in that place.

In 1873 I gave one-half my time to holding meetings. In March I went to
Burksville, Cumberland county, Ky. The church had had no preaching for
a long time, and was not meeting on the Lord's day. There were a few
faithful ones, especially sisters, but the majority had gone to the
world. We had over forty additions. The membership was organized for
work, a Sunday-school was established, a preacher secured, and the
church entered on a long period of prosperity. Two preachers were the
result of this meeting--C. M. McPherson, of the _Apostolic Guide_,
and E. J. Ellison, now of Glasgow, Ky. They had been immersed, but,
with many others, had strayed from the fold. They were reclaimed and
put to work, and to-day they are faithful ministers of the Word.

As showing what may result from a word timely spoken, a young lady from
Nashville, now the wife of Bro. McPherson, was visiting a sister at
Burksville. She was a devoted Episcopalian, talented and accomplished.
One day she was telling me about her church and preacher, etc., and the
work she was trying to do for the Master. I asked her if she had ever
obeyed the gospel. She looked amazed, and remarked that that was a
strange question to ask a church member. I told her I feared that many
church members, and even devoted ones, had never obeyed the gospel; and
in a few words explained the reason why. She soon made the confession
and was immersed, stating afterwards that that question led to an
entire change of religious views.

In May I held a meeting at Thompson's Church, in Robinson county. The
meeting was of no special importance; the number of additions was
small, and no important results any way. Willis Cox was preaching for
the church.

At this meeting the wealthiest man in the church was greatly taken with
the preaching, said he intended to go to Dover, twenty odd miles away,
to hear me there, had three of his children immersed, and was almost
too happy to behave himself. He gave a _two cent copper_ to help pay
the expenses of the meeting! This was all they could get out of him. He
got so happy that it dried up the fountain of his liberality.

In June I held a meeting at Dover, Mason county. This was an old
church, and once a prosperous one, but a bad spirit had been engendered
during the war, and it had virtually gone to pieces. They were meeting,
and had a preacher employed, Bro. Willis Cox; but only a few members
were concerned about the things of Zion. They had had no additions for
so long that the town was full of young people who had grown up out of
the church. The brethren expected no additions, but wanted a meeting
for the encouragement of the faithful few. This was the way they put it
when they engaged me to hold the meeting. The house was well-filled
from the first, and in a few nights crowded. They paid profound
attention to the Word. This led me to hope for additions, but the
brethren hooted at the idea. I preached only at night and on the Lord's
day. On the ninth night they made a move, and continued to move till
fifty-seven were added. I baptized fifty. The deepest religious
interest prevailed that I ever had in any of my meetings. No telling
what the result would have been, had I not been taken sick and
compelled to leave. As I was going to the boat to return home, I went
by the church. It was crowded. I had just a few minutes. I went in and
explained the situation, and proposed to take the confession of any
that wished to make it, before I left. Without a word of exhortation
two came forward. Thus I left them.

Nearly all the young people of the town came into the church, so that
there was no outside element left to get up mischief, and it is
gratifying to know how faithfully they held out. The church has ever
since been in active working order.

In July I held a meeting at Germantown. Bro. J. C. Walden was preaching
for them. We had a pleasant meeting, but no special results.

In August I held another good meeting at my old home church--Pleasant
Hill, in Oldham county. I held them a meeting each year for five or six
years. While they were slow to assist me when I was struggling for a
start, after I got well under way they were quite liberal in reward of
my labor. But one dollar at the first would have done me more good,
because more needed, than five at the time they were given. This is a
mistake made by many churches.

In October, 1873, I held another meeting at Burksville. This was also a
fine meeting, but not quite so many additions were made as at the one
in March preceding.

In November I had a good meeting at Beech Grove, a country church in
Trimble county, eight miles from Mt. Byrd.

In December I was again at Dover. We had another excellent meeting, but
there was not material for so many converts as at first. This visit was
mainly for the membership, to rid the church of some dead material, and
put it into good working order. On account of getting sick at the
previous meeting, I had to leave before this needed work was
accomplished. Thus ended my labors for 1873.

CHAPTER XV.

Begins Preaching at Beech Grove. Debates with Elder Hiner. Amusing
Incident. Holds many Meetings. Debates with Elder Frogge. Debates again
with Elder Hiner. Repudiates Miller's Book. Sick Again. Holds more
Meetings.

In 1874 I engaged to preach once a month for the Beech Grove Church.

Beginning January 20th, at a Methodist church near Beech Grove, I held
a debate with Elder Robert Hiner. The debate continued eight days. It
was largely attended, though the roads and weather were bad. The
feeling throughout the debate was good, but hardly so much so as at the
one held at Mt. Byrd with Elder Fitch. A very amusing thing occurred.
Mr. Hiner brought all of his books, and, coming through Bedford, he got
all of Mr. Young's, the preacher at that place. They made a perfect
wagon load. He obtained a long table, like a carpenter's bench, and
stacked them up on it. I soon discovered that it was all for a show,
and the question was how to most successfully burlesque it. I first
thought of sending to Bedford and getting a large wagon-load of Patent
Office Reports and the like, and stacking them up on my table. But in
my room I discovered a little toy-book, about an inch long, called
"Orphan Willie." This I took to church in my vest pocket, with a few
leaves carefully turned down. After alluding to his "silent artillery,"
as I had done before, I drew out "Orphan Willie," and planted it on the
pulpit in position to effectually blow up his entire battery, with the
assurance that that was going to be done. I had laughed over the idea
till I thought I could do it without laughing. But in this I failed;
and the whole audience, Methodist preachers and all, got into such a
laugh that I lost half my speech. But the books were put out of sight,
and thus ended the scarecrow business.

During the debate Mr. Hiner expressed the opinion that I would yet come
back to the Methodist church. I told him he might as well talk of a
full-grown rooster, spurs and all, going back into the shell that
hatched it. For a long time this gave me the sobriquet of "Old
Chicken." Some brethren use it even now.

While on the design of baptism, Mr. Hiner remarked that if he believed
baptism was for the remission of sins, he would live on a creek or
river and be baptized every time he sinned. I gave it as my opinion
that in that case he would find it a very difficult matter to keep any
dry clothes!

During this year I held meetings at Louisville, Crittenden, Cove Hill,
Burksville and Glasgow, with varied success.

In 1875 I held meetings at Glasgow, Carrollton, Campbellsville,
Burksville, Bedford, Hodgenville and Columbia.

In July of this year I debated twelve days, at Burksville, with
Presiding Elder Frogge. He was the great champion of Methodism in
Southern Kentucky. He had had a great many debates, and, while he was
very ready and glib in his line of debating, I soon discovered that his
scholarship and reading were both very limited, exceedingly so; and I
intentionally widened the range of controversy more than was my wont,
to see what he would do--and he was completely lost. His forte in
debating is wit and ridicule, by which he gets his opponents angry and
confused. He tried this hard for three days, till he rendered himself
offensive to all. It was rumored that his brethren then held a council
and told him that this must be stopped; that he must debate the
questions on their merits or quit; that he was bringing the cause into
disrepute. The county paper, edited by a scholarly Episcopalian, was
very severe in its criticism of his conduct. This caused much
excitement among the Methodists. When he had to quit his efforts to get
me excited, he was no longer himself. This debate was held at the
request of the Baptists. Mr. Frogge and a Baptist preacher had debated
near there the fall before, and, the Baptist having failed, had to give
up the discussion. Mr. Frogge then left a broad and boastful challenge
for any immersionist. The Baptists were very sore over it, and when I
went there in the winter to hold a meeting they requested me to accept
his challenge. I referred them to the brethren, and with their
concurrence I entered upon the discussion.

In November I held another debate with Mr. Hiner, this time at Bedford,
Ky. It continued eight days. This created the most intense excitement I
ever saw in a meeting-house. At the two previous debates in the county
I repudiated C. W. Miller's book (_Points of Controversy_) as
authority. It is the book that Dr. Ditzler exposed. Our opponents said
I would not dare to do that where Miller was. They had him at this
debate. Mr. Hiner read from it a passage purporting to be from Moses
Stuart. I asked him what he was reading from. He said, "'Points of
Controversy,' and you challenge it if you dare." I then asked for the
page in Stuart's book where the language occurred. He refused to give
it. I had Stuart, and the inference was that he didn't want the
comparison made. When I got up I referred to what had passed about the
quotation, saying I was willing to take Stuart for it if he had given
me the page, but as for "Points of Controversy," I could take nothing
on its authority, for I repudiated the book and its author as authority
in anything. This provoked a personal wrangle with Miller, who was
close to me, after the debate--for the day was over. The excitement was
intense as we passed and repassed our compliments. Finally the house
refused to hear Mr. M. Even his own brethren rose as one man and went
out of the house. This so infuriated him that he left the place.

January 1, 1876, I went on the _Apostolic Times_ with I. B. Grubbs and
S. A. Kelley. I had been writing for it every two weeks, by contract,
for several years. From this time I devoted special attention to it
every week, and, with the exception of a few months from the sale of
the _Times_ to Dr. Hopson and Cozine till the establishing of the
_Guide_, I have been constantly engaged in editorial work.

About the middle of January I was taken down with intercostal
rheumatism and spinal trouble, and was very low for several months.
Very little hope was entertained of my recovery. After the intense
suffering was over, my system was so racked that convalescence was
slow. The doctors agreed that it was due to nervous exhaustion produced
by overwork. For years I had known nothing practically of mental rest,
and the year preceding was unusually severe on me, in my feeble state
of health. When I held the twelve days' debate at Burksville the summer
before, I went from my bed to the house and from the house to my bed. I
was hardly any better in the one held a few weeks before. These labors,
with those given to my home church of over three hundred members,
together with holding seven protracted meetings, and writing for the
_Times_, all the while in feeble health, brought me down very low.

I wish here to emphasize the fact that I have never gone out of my way
to either seek or shun a religious debate. I repeat this statement
here, lest some might think otherwise from the fact that I have held so
many.

After getting up again, I held meetings at Antioch, in Shelby county,
Glasgow, Burksville, South Elkhorn, and at some other points. This has
always been congenial employment for me.

CHAPTER XVI.

Continues to Evangelize. Dr. Cook's Prescription. Incident at Glendale.
Peculiar Feature in the Meeting at Madisonville. The Fractious Preacher
at Sonora. Closes his Evangelistic Labors. Establishes the _Old Path
Guide_. The Bruner Debate.

In 1877 I spent much time evangelizing, being called to hold protracted
meetings at many important places. I accepted work at seven of these,
and my labors were fruitful in the conversion of sinners and in
building up the saints in their most holy faith; but I had to be away
from home a great deal, and my exposure in all kinds of weather, and
the wear and tear of constant preaching, increased my lung disease.

While preaching at Cynthiana my spinal trouble returned, causing me to
close abruptly, and I could preach no more till July. On my return from
Cynthiana, some friends in Cincinnati induced me to visit a Dr. Cook (I
think that is the name). He was celebrated for his skill in such
afflictions. He was a corpulent, jolly old gentleman, full of humor.
When I was introduced, he looked at me for a moment without coming
near, and said: "Well, sir, you don't laugh enough. You take too
serious a view of life. Why, sir, at least two inches of your spinal
marrow is inflamed, produced by nervous exhaustion, the result of
overwork and no mental recreation. I tell you, sir, all the medicine in
the world will do you no good till you quit that and cultivate
laziness. You must take a more cheerful view of life. And you must
learn to laugh, not giggle a little, but laugh away down to the bottom
of the abdomen. Then you will get well. I used to be a little, scrawny,
sallow, nervous, overworked thing like you are, but I saw it was going
to kill me, and I quit it and went to laughing, and now see what I am?"
And this was all the prescription he gave me. There is, doubtless, a
good deal of philosophy in it.

At Glendale a rather singular circumstance occurred. The first night of
the meeting, I observed a very intelligent looking lady in the
audience, and she was intensely interested. When we got back to the
place where I was stopping, I asked the sister who this lady was. She
gave her name, stating that she was the pride of the Methodist Church
in that country; that her talk at the love-feast a few weeks before had
been the topic of conversation ever since. I remarked that she would
not be a Methodist when that meeting was over. But they would not
listen to the idea that she would ever be anything but a Methodist. She
was present the second and third nights, and manifested the same
intense interest. The next morning early, she sent to ascertain if she
could have a private interview. When she came, she made her business
known at once. She wanted to learn if I would immerse her and let her
remain in the M. E. Church. Without answering her question, I asked her
what she wanted to be immersed for. She said she had become convinced
that she had never obeyed the gospel, and she wanted to be immersed
because it was the Saviour's will, and her sprinkling was not
authorized. "Well," said I, "why do you want to correct your life in
some things according to the divine authority, and not in others?" She
said she wanted to correct it in all respects where it was contrary to
divine authority. I then told her that there were a number of things in
the Methodist Church for which there was no more authority than there
is for infant baptism. She inquired what, and when I told her, she
said, "That will do," and right away I immersed her. She had been
brought up a Romanist, and while we were gone to the baptizing her
sister burnt her Bible. No special persecution followed her change to
the Methodists, but it was otherwise when she united with us. Her
relatives, so far as known to me, have never become reconciled.

The meeting at Madisonville, O., eighteen miles from Cincinnati, also
had a peculiar feature which I think worthy of mention. It was the
first preaching by our brethren ever heard in the place, and most of
those who made the confession had never before heard it made. The first
person called upon to make it answered aloud and distinctly: "Yes, sir;
I believe with my whole heart that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the
living God." All who followed answered in the same way. I wish it could
always be so.

In 1878 calls upon me to conduct meetings were multiplied, but I could
comply only with those from Vevay, Ind., Sonora, Ky., Dover, White's
Run, Columbia, Burksville, Glendale, Oakland and Owenton.

At Sonora, a Methodist preacher attended a few times, and he was
remarkably fractious. Several times he interrupted me. One night, in
preaching on the "Plan of Salvation," commenting on the case of the
jailer, I remarked that the fact that the apostles sometimes baptized
households, was no evidence that they baptized infants, since there are
many households without infants. He spoke up very much excited, saying,
"May I ask you a question?" I told him yes. "Well, now," he says,
"suppose we take a common sense view of that matter. Suppose you were
to come to town, and start out to baptizing households, and you were to
go to Bro. Creel's house and mine, wouldn't you have to baptize
infants?" (Bro. Creel had five little fellows, and he seven.) I
answered, "Yes, Bro. Campbell, I admit that whenever you go to a
preacher's house, you are very apt to find them." The whole house
laughed outright, and they never ceased laughing at that preacher till
he left the circuit.

These meetings were all successful in the way of additions, except that
at Vevay. But I have never kept an account of my additions, and
remember the number at only a few meetings.

This year my regular evangelistic work closed on account of editing the
_Guide_ and preaching half the time at Portland Avenue Church, in
Louisville.

In January, 1879, I established the _Old Path Guide_, in Louisville. I
was owner, proprietor, editor, bookkeeper, treasurer, mailing clerk,
general agent, and special "boss." This required all my time, except
what I had necessarily to give to preaching on the Lord's day and the
preparation therefor. The _Guide_ was a success, financially, from
the beginning. I put money in bank the first three months of each year
to pay every dollar of expense to the end. The net profits the first
year were over $600, and this increased each year for the three years
that I managed it all myself. The third year would have netted $1,000,
but in the midst of it I made the change, transferring one-half of it
to Cline, Marrs & Co., and giving them control of its business
management. This was the beginning of financial embarrassment. The
change was demanded by my failing health, and I could no longer do
everything, as I had been doing from the first.

That year I engaged to preach half my time for the Portland Avenue
Church. In order to serve the Glendale church, which is fifty miles on
the Louisville & Nashville road, the Mt. Byrd church released me one
Sunday in the month. During the year the Portland Avenue Church
increased 120 per cent.

In February, 1879, I held a meeting for the Campbell St. church,
Louisville. The meeting proved to be quite beneficial to the
congregation, in many respects. I boarded in the city during the
winter, and moved my family down in April.

The church at Glendale had a partnership house--a very common thing in
all Southwestern Kentucky. This prevented their meeting regularly on
the Lord's day, and also prevented a Sunday-school, as the house was
occupied more than half the time by others. Knowing that I could
accomplish no substantial and enduring good while this state of things
lasted, I made it a condition of preaching for them that they build a
new house. This they did. The house is a neat frame, well finished
inside and out, and large enough for all ordinary use. It was promptly
built and paid for.

In November I held a debate there--the first use made of the new
house--with I. W. Bruner, a Baptist preacher. The Baptist church there
and ours arranged for a debate, on certain specified propositions, and
each had the privilege of selecting its representative. Consequently I
had nothing to do with getting up the debate or arranging for it. I
never challenged a man for debate in my life, and never held one except
by special invitation. And I have declined more debates than I ever
held. While I was peculiarly fond of it, I never debated simply for the
sake of debating; hence, if the circumstances were not favorable for
good results, I always declined. This debate with Mr. Bruner was, I
think, the poorest one I ever held, and I lost all interest in it
before it was half over.

CHAPTER XVII.

Visits Midway. Attends the Missouri State Convention. Reflections.
Annual Sermons. Last Protracted Meeting. Kindness of Mt. Byrd, Glendale
and Smithfield Churches. Gives up Office Work. Goes to Eureka, Ill.
Country Home. Takes Cold at the Lexington Convention. Goes to Florida.

In October, 1879, I visited Midway, and though I had virtually closed
my evangelistic labors when I began the _Guide_, I could not resist the
desire to hold a meeting there. It is the seat of our Female Orphan
School, one of our grandest enterprises. Bro. Shouse was then preaching
for the church and Bro. Lucy was president of the school. Their
companionship was highly enjoyable. What a feast to the soul is the
companionship of wise, godly men! It has for me the highest happiness I
expect to know this side of heaven. And will it not be a very prominent
factor of that which constitutes heaven? Any place in the universe of
God where my brethren and the Saviour are will be heaven enough for me.

In 1880 I continued at the Avenue Church, Louisville, Mt. Byrd and
Glendale. The State Board of the Missouri Christian Missionary Society
invited me to deliver an address before the State Convention, held that
year at Moberly. In order to justify me in a visit to the State, they
arranged several meetings for me--one in connection with the convention
of Audrain county, at a country church near Mexico, called Sunrise; one
at New London, and one at Slater. These meetings were all enjoyable and
profitable; but the one in Audrain county was only for a few days, and
resulted in but few additions.

The address at Moberly was on "Our Strength and Our Weakness." The
convention was largely attended, and it was a great pleasure to meet so
many brethren known only by name, and loved for their work's sake, and
to renew the acquaintance of others known before.

The addresses of Haley, Procter, Jones and others were very able. That
of Jones was speculative, and the basic principle of it, in my opinion,
erroneous. Several of those Missouri preachers have done much harm by
preaching a false philosophy instead of the gospel of Christ. Bro.
Procter, whom we all allow to be one of our best men and ablest
preachers, went from this convention to California and held several
meetings. Within a few months I had several applications to come out
there to undo some of his work, and I should have been glad to comply
had my other duties permitted.

In 1881 I resigned at the Avenue Church, as they needed more pastoral
labor than my other duties would allow me to perform. I gave half my
time to Mt. Byrd, one-fourth to Glendale, and one-fourth to my old home
church--Pleasant Hill, in Oldham county. It was a pleasure to visit
these old friends of my youth once a month. Old memories were revived,
and the past, in a sense, lived over again. Besides, several members of
the families related to my wife and to myself were enabled to attend.
To preach to them, after years of separation, was a great pleasure. Mt.
Byrd moved on in the even tenor of its way, in a prosperous condition.

In August of this year, and also the year previous, I preached the
annual sermon at the Clark county, Ind., Coöperation Meeting. The
county contains sixteen or eighteen churches, including those of
Jeffersonville and New Albany, and for more than forty years they have
had an annual county meeting. Representatives from all the churches
attend, as a rule, and the condition, etc., of each church is given. It
brings together a great congregation, and the day meetings are held in
the woods.

In September of this year the _Guide_ was changed to a weekly. While
the monthly magazine was the most desirable for preservation, it was
thought that a weekly would best serve the cause of Christ, and
peculiar circumstances at that time seemed to demand it.

In November I went to Poplar Plains and held the last protracted
meeting of my life. It was a pleasant one, and attended with some good
results.

In 1882 I preached at Mt. Byrd, Glendale and Smithfield, that is, I
engaged to preach for these churches, but my health was such that I
preached but little to any. At my first visit to Smithfield, the first
Lord's day in the year, I was taken sick, and I never visited them once
when I was not sick. I was never able to so preach as to do them or
myself justice. While this was equally so at the other churches, I did
not regret it so much, since I had been laboring for them a long time.
The work at Smithfield was virtually a failure, and early in the fall I
had to give it up entirely. Yet they paid me for the whole year, and
made me a present of about $150 besides. They are a noble band of
brethren, and one of the most liberal I ever knew.

The church at Glendale also paid for the entire year, though I lost
much time and resigned in October. It also made me a generous present
in addition.

Speaking of their generosity, reminds me that the Mt. Byrd Church
continued my salary three or four years when I was able to do little or
nothing in return. In 1876 I lost most of the year through spinal and
rheumatic affections; I did very little in 1882; I was in the church
but once in 1883, and in 1884 I attempted to talk only a few times, yet
all these years my salary continued. When the _Guide_ was sold to the
present Guide Printing and Publishing Company, which relieved me of
financial embarrassments which the failure of C. C. Cline & Co. had
produced, I refused to longer accept support from the church.

In April, 1882, I was compelled, on account of failing health, to give
up the office work of the _Guide_. I had been under a physician all the
year, and grew constantly worse. I allowed the office work to make a
heavier draft on me than some men do. I always knew every paragraph
that was going into the paper, and where and how it would appear. I
stood by the foreman and noticed everything that went in--when it went
in, what was put in and what was left out--till the forms were locked
up. I have never been able to get any one else to do it. But that is my
idea of editing a paper. This thing of giving printers a mass of matter
and telling them to put it in, leaving them to add or diminish, and put
in where and what they please, is simply a burlesque on the business;
and yet this is the way it is largely done. I have had no little
annoyance over just that thing. Had I been willing to edit in that way
I could have continued, but I would not consent to follow such a
course.

In May I went to Eureka College, to preach the baccalaureate sermon. I
arranged to make the trip as easy as possible, on account of my
feebleness, by stopping over at Indianapolis for the night, in both
going and returning. The trip was every way pleasant, and the
associations there very agreeable. I hoped it would be a benefit to me
in the way of recreation, but on reaching home I was taken down with
typho-malarial fever. I was quite low for several weeks. I got up with
a trouble in my throat, causing a constant coughing and hacking, which
has increased without intermission to the present time.

In September, realizing that my health was permanently broken down, we
went back to our country home. I was satisfied that if I should even
continue to edit the _Guide_, I would not be able to assume the
responsibilities of the office, and that the best place for me, under
the circumstances, was my country home. After going back to the country
I rallied considerably, and attended the General Convention, at
Lexington, about the 20th of October. Here I took life memberships in
both the General and Foreign Societies for the Mt. Byrd Church. This
was the first church taking membership in those societies, so far as I
am informed. It has since become quite common. Last year (1884) I
succeeded in getting their constitutions so amended as to provide for
this.

I took cold at the convention, and relapsed. My physicians were very
fearful of tubercular trouble, and advised me to go to Florida for the
winter. We went the first of December, not knowing whither we went, but
it seems that the hand of Providence guided us. We knew not where to
turn, but concluded to try DeLand, where we had some acquaintances, and
there look out for accommodations. In a few days after reaching DeLand
old Bro. Anderson, who lived two miles in the country, heard we were
there and came in for us. He had formerly seen a copy of the _Guide_
and subscribed for it. This good man rented for us a convenient house
near him, paid the rent, set us up, and would not allow me to pay for
anything we needed while there if he knew it and could prevent it. His
wife was as kind as he, and did all in her power to make our stay in
"The Land of Flowers" comfortable and inexpensive.

The Great Teacher has said, in a well-known passage, "It is more
blessed to give than to receive." What, then, must not have been the
blessedness of this pious couple in thus caring for a poor broken-down
invalid and his family, whom Providence had guided to their hospitable
home? May God reward them richly for their kindness.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Organizes a Church at DeLand. Health Improves. Relapses. Starts Home.
Resignation. Sells His Interest in the _Guide_. Begins Writing again.
Attends Two Conventions. Goes to Texas. At Home Again. Works On.

While at DeLand we gathered up the few scattered Disciples in and
around the town, and organized them into a church. I felt quite
confident, from the character of the material, that the enterprise
would be a success. It has thus far proved to be so; they have not
failed to keep up their weekly meetings to break the loaf and edify one
another after the apostolic model. They now have a nice house, and have
employed a preacher and given him a home among them. This is just what
all churches should aim to do; all may not be able, but they should aim
to accomplish it. The church is in a prosperous condition. I was able
to talk to them occasionally while there.

The climate of Florida agreed with me. My cough left me in a few weeks,
my appetite became good, and I got heavier than I ever was before. I
went there weighing 130 pounds, and increased to 148. In good health,
my usual weight was 144 pounds, and it had been many years since I
weighed that. I should have come home in this improved condition but
for my own imprudence. I don't blame the country, Providence, nor
anything else but myself. I was passionately fond of hunting, as I have
ever been. I hunted a great deal, and frequently got overheated, and
took cold; sometimes got my feet wet when in the woods. Thus I had
several backsets. But still I was in that condition when the time came
to return home. The day before we were to start, I concluded I must
have one more hunt. It had rained the night before; the sand was damp;
it was cloudy, quite warm, and a strong south wind was blowing. I would
get warm in walking (the sand there is very slavish to walk in), and
would sit down and let the wind cool me off. I should have had more
discretion; but sometimes people act with very little sense about such
things. Before I reached the house I felt acute inflammation of the
mucus membrane, to the bottom of my lungs. In three hours fever set in,
and I was completely prostrated. I remained there about three weeks,
and the doctors urged my return as the only chance of recovery. They
considered that very hazardous, on account of exposure to cold; but to
stay there was less hopeful. I was taken to the boat, carried on board
by two men, then carried off at Jacksonville to a hack, taken to a
hotel, thence to the train. I secured a good berth in a sleeper, and
got through without the least trouble. I improved, every mile of the
way; but as soon as I got home I went down again, and was extremely low
for some time.

My dread of dying in Florida and having my wife return with my body,
was such that I concentrated all my prayers to that one point. I prayed
the Lord to enable me to get home, that I might die in the midst of my
family. I felt and prayed that if He would enable me to reach home, He
could have the rest all His own way, without any further petition. He
enabled me to rally, gave a week of the best weather of the whole
season, brought me home under the most favorable circumstances, and I
never afterwards felt free to ask Him to restore me to health, and have
never done it. It may be wrong, but I promised to let Him have the rest
all His own way, and my prayers have ever since conformed to that idea.

I never could have believed, till I experienced it, that one could
become so indifferent as to whether he lived or died, I saw many days,
after my return from Florida, when it was a matter of perfect
indifference to me; previous anxiety to get home, and the resolution to
leave all the rest to the Lord, had no doubt much to do with it. I
observed this, however: that as hope revived, a desire to live would
arise in proportion. When there was little or no prospect, there was
little or no concern.

When I was at my worst, I decided, taking my past and present condition
into consideration, the medicine I was taking, the attention received,
etc., that if I did not take a turn for the better by a certain day,
then in three days the case would be entirely hopeless. In the
afternoon of that day the change came. That evening I took some
nourishment--the first for fourteen days.

After I sufficiently recovered to be able to do anything, I was anxious
to get my business arranged, with a view to death. I never expected to
be able to write another editorial, and I was concerned about making
some arrangement by which to get rid of the _Guide_ and its
responsibility. I was not pleased with its business management, and did
not want to leave it as the property of my family, not knowing what
trouble it might give nor what expense it might involve them in. And
without a change in management, I knew it could never be of any profit.
I wrote for Bro. Srygley to come, and I sold him my remaining
half-interest. My purpose was to resign, and thus have no further
connection with it. But he would not buy unless I would agree to let my
name remain, with a promise to resume the responsibility of chief
editor if I should ever get able; and the firm would consent to the
sale only upon these conditions. So I had to sell upon those
conditions, or not sell at all.

The latter part of September the company urged me to begin to write
again, if it were at all possible, even if it were only a few
paragraphs each week. They said the impression everywhere entertained
that I would not recover, was injuring the paper very much. The people
were losing interest in it. They insisted that I should counteract that
feeling as much as possible. Under this pressure, though confined to my
bed and suffering every hour, I began writing, the first of October,
and never after missed a week. That winter I stayed at home, and was
not out of my room for eight months. The last of August I started to
Midway, to see Dr. Lucy. I got as far as Louisville, and could get no
further. We dispatched for the Doctor, and he came down. After resting
a few days I got home, the last of August, and I was not out of the
door again till the last of April. During that winter I did a large
amount of writing, besides my weekly work on the _Guide_.

June 10 I went to Louisville to attend the International Sunday-school
Convention, but was able to get out only a few times. I attended the
State meeting at Paris, but was able to take no part. I greatly enjoyed
meeting with the brethren, and hearing them concerning the things of
the kingdom of God. These convocations are seasons of refreshing from
the presence of the Lord.

The first of October we went to Mason, in South-west Texas, to spend
the winter. Here, as at De Land, it looked as if the hand of Providence
guided us. We knew no one there, but we found some of the dearest and
best friends of our lives. They had been taking the _Guide_, and, in
competition with several other places that wanted us, made such a
liberal offer that our trip cost us nothing. They seemed to anticipate
all our wants, and find great pleasure in supplying them. The Lord has
always blessed me with many good friends--more than I deserved. I have
felt, for a number of years, that I was greatly overestimated, and it
has been a source of no little humiliation. I should have quit
editorial work several years ago, and lived in obscurity here at my
retired home, if I could have done so. I appreciate the good opinion of
my brethren, to the extent that I think it is merited; but to realize
that I am not what I am thought by some to be, is a great
mortification.

I am now at home enjoying the company of my family, the quiet of my
home, with every want anticipated and supplied by a devoted wife and
children, pleasantly, though in much feebleness, doing my work on the
_Guide_, and putting in my spare time in other writing. I find my
greatest pleasure in being about my Father's business. I must be
employed. I expect to thus work on till the Master says, "It is
enough."

MT. BYRD, Ky., June 13, 1885.

CHAPTER XIX.

Reflections on his Fiftieth Birthday. What a Wonderful Being is
Man! Governed, not by Instinct, but by Reason. Man Lives by Deeds, not
Years. How to Grow Old. Half of Life Spent in Satan's Service. Renewed
Consecration. Last Three Birthdays. His Trust in God.

The seventh day of March has come again. Fifty times has come this
anniversary of my natal day! Half a hundred years old to-day! What a
period through which to carry the burdens and responsibilities of life!
(What a time for which to give account to God for wasted moments and
opportunities lost!) What a period to be devoted to building a
character for the skies! What a period of time devoted to the issues of
eternity!

What a wonderful being is man! Time is but his cradle, from which he
walks forth into a world where life is parallel with the ages of God.
An intelligent, expansive being that will never cease to be--what a
thought! When the sun grows gray with age, his eye is dimmed, and
darkness reigns, man will still be drinking in the light of heaven from
the morning star of eternity. The century-living crow doubles this
period of man's probation, with life as it began. She builds her nest
the last year, as she did the first, with no improvement sought. She
rears her young the hundredth time as she did the first, by the long
experience none the wiser. This is her nature. God made her thus.
Instinct is wonderful, but it never improves. It grows not wiser with
age nor the ages. It nothing from experience learns. The sparrow builds
her nest, and the beaver his dam, just as they did in the years before
the flood. The little quails an hour from the shell, will hide at the
danger-signal of the mother bird, when they never saw a hawk, nor heard
of one's existence. How different this from man! More helpless than the
stupid beast, and more senseless than the creeping worm, he starts to
make the pilgrimage of life. But what a change does time produce! The
child more helpless than the humming insect of an hour, becomes the
monarch of the world. He bridles the lightning in its home above the
mountain peaks, and makes it do his bidding. The terror of the ages
past, becomes his willing servant. He harnesses the steam, that for
ages spent its power in the open air, and with it moves the world. He
sends his whisperings through old ocean's bed, where the great
leviathan sports, as if he talked to one across the room. He leaps
aloft as if on steady wing, till his look is downward where the
lightnings play and the thunderbolt leaps to its deadly mission.
Wonderful development! The heavens declare the glory of God, and the
earth proclaims the dominion of man. He was made a little lower than
the angels, and crowned with majesty. Age counts with man, and years
bring knowledge, but not unfailing wisdom. Did man grow wise with age,
as a sure result, age should be an unfailing blessing sought. But
imbecility it often brings and childish discontent. These are the
blighted sheaves of evil sowing in the spring and summer days of life.
With right ideas of life, men grow wiser and better, as they older grow
in the service of their God. Life is not measured simply by the flight
of time. Men live more now than they did before the flood. Intenser
now is _life_. Into a few decades, is now crowded the patriarch's
experience of nearly a thousand years. How to grow old, is a problem
not to be despised. It should not be left to solve itself. To grow old
gracefully, is to make a picture on which the world delights to look.
But, alas! how sadly blurred is the picture by many made! It is sad to
see one's religion sour with age. While young and strong the loved
disciple on the bosom of the Master leaned. Then when age had dimmed
his eagle eye, and time had stolen his elastic step, he had the same
love for his children in the faith. His was a sweet old age, the
outgrowth of a life of faith and love. He grew old gracefully. When
brought, as was his wont, and before his congregation set, his last
sermons were mainly the touching, tender words, "My little children,
love one another." O, that his mantle could on many of us fall! But
oft, alas! we see grow cross, self-willed and sour the shepherd of the
flock. This, too, when age should give his words both weight and
wisdom. Lord, give me poverty and affliction, if it be thy will, but
save me, I pray, from this sad end. Far better that one die young,
than grow old against the grain. "Is life worth living?" the sages ask.
That depends on how one lives it. Lived aright, it is worth living, and
many such worlds as this beside. Otherwise 'tis not. Of right living,
the more the better; of wrong, the less. The life lived faithfully to
God, can never be too long; its opposite, too short.

Of the half-century, this day gone, one claim I can safely make--it was
not spent in idleness. The years to Satan's service given, were well to
his account put in; and those devoted to a better cause, I have tried
to give as faithfully to Him to whom they all belonged. For the years
in Satan's service spent, like Saul of Tarsus, I conscientious
ignorance plead. O'er eyes unused to heaven's light, sectarianism's
vail was thick. But no sooner was known the way of life, than in its
path I tried to walk; and in it have I tried to keep, till this good
day. Thus equally divided has the time been spent. Except the years of
childish innocence, twenty-five were in the service spent of him who
for this life pays the soul in spurious coin, and leaves it bankrupt in
the life beyond; while an equal number, praise the Lord, have a better
Master claimed. For the rest of life, be it long or short, the long
side will the right side be, while hitherto it otherwise has been. The
periods of service have not before been equally divided, nor will they
be again. But the sides have changed proportions, praise the Lord!
Should not this turning-point in life an epoch make? A half century,
and a half divided life, in one! Surely I shall not look upon its like
again.

The past few birthdays I have noted as those of former years were noted
not, and for reasons I need hardly state. The first that deep
impression on the mind did make since apprehension was that each would
be the last, was three years ago, amid the orange groves of the sunny
South. The day was lovely as the Queen of May; and friends more lovely
than the day, made it a time not to be forgotten. The feasting of the
outer man was the lesser part of the day's enjoyment. "The feast of
reason and the flow of soul" was chief. Three of us were seeking health
in that sunny land. Two have found it, but not there. In a fairer land
by far than this world can boast, did they find the fountain of
perpetual health. Beneath the branches of the tree of life, have they
also sat and plucked its leaves for the healing of the nations given.
I, the feeblest of the three, and thought the nearest to the other side
to be, on the shores of time am struggling still. Thus it is with man's
poor guessing.

Two years ago the day was cold and bleak. It drizzled through the
dreary hours, freezing as it fell. But to many loving hearts, its sleet
and rain were not its gloom. On this day was laid to rest in Mother
Earth the loved remains of one numbered in the health-seeking trio of
the year before. What a contrast with that day one year before! The day
and its events, how sadly changed! But such is life. Well do I remember
on this asking, "Shall I another birthday live to see?" And well do I
remember, too, the thought expressed in grave response. While, in the
providence of God, it was possible, of course, the other way were all
the probabilities. But this so oft before the case had been, it left a
ray of hope. And that has now been more than realized. As said our
sweetest poet, how truly can we say:

"God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform."

One year ago, in the balmy breezes of the "Lone Star" State, compelled
was I by feebleness of frame to miss the sumptuous feast by loving
hands so deftly spread. And sad, yet happy thought, those as ever ready
on the poor to wait, are now in those of the Master clasped. And still
I linger, and the years go by. Such is life. Deep and many are her
mysteries. God knows it all, but he keeps it to himself. But what are
now the prospects for the year to come? Better now, by far, than they
before have been in all these dreary years of pain. Would it not be
strange, if once again in providence divine I should mingle with my
fellow men, and tell them, as of yore, the story of the cross? Indeed,
it would; but stranger things have happened. Stranger things by
providence divine have come to pass without the aid of "Warner's Safe
Cure," or other disgusting humbuggery, with its offensive intrusion
into the reading of decent men. The providence of God is not dependent
on patent nostrums; nor is He limited in His healing power to calomel
or blue mass. Prayer is oft more potent than all the noxious drugs of
man's device. God has promised, when consistent with His holy will, the
prayers of His believing children to hear and bless. And in numbers
more by far than this poor life is worth, have these from earnest,
pleading souls gone up to God. Hence to-day we rest in the cheering
hope that these have not been in vain.

Should it please the Lord to give the health I need to fight again the
battles of Christian life, what responsibilities will it bring! That
strength must all be counted His who gave it. All those years must be
wholly His, His cause to serve. The interests of His kingdom to His
children left, must be strictly guarded. Conflicts with men, even those
we love, will come to him who strictly guards the faith, as Jude
directs. In all conflicts with fellow men, for two good graces I humbly
pray--the courage of Paul and the gentleness of John.

This holy Lord's-day morning, the sun rose bright and charming as on
the seventh day of March it did three years ago in the sunny land of
Florida. For the first time in many weary months did I a whiff of the
outside air inhale. Oh! how delicious! 'Twas like a prisoner's whiff of
the air of freedom. But this was not the best. To sit again with the
brethren around the table of the Lord and hear again the sweet old
story that is forever new, what a feast to the hungry soul! Then the
birthday feast is next to be enjoyed. Loved ones gathered at the dear
old "cottage home" to celebrate the marked event with music, song and
recitation.

The birthday cakes and other "dainty tricks" by loving hands prepared
and sent to grace the festive board, told tales of love. One thing
alone marred the pleasure of the day and checked the overflow of its
cup of bliss: Two loved and loving ones were far away and disappointed
in their hope of being here. These would have made the ring complete,
the family circle whole. But such, again, is life. Its disappointments
will forever come. We should expect them, therefore, and be content.

This is my fiftieth milestone along life's rugged road. At this
half-century mark I set up a pillar, as did Jacob of old.

"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy help I've come,
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home."

Thus far in life has a loving Father led me, and in his providential
care I trust for all the rest. I place my trusting hand in His, asking
to be led as He sees the way. "Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah," shall
be my constant prayer. And thus, dear Father, the rest of life I leave
with thee.

Dear Lord, should birthdays more be mine
To spend on earth to Thee,
Thy cause shall claim them wholly Thine
As earnest work can be.

And should'st Thou will the next be one
In Thy bright home above,
I gladly say, "Thy will be done,"
And join Thee in Thy love.

COTTAGE HOME, March 7, 1886.

CHAPTER XX.

Conclusion by the Editor. Tokens of Love from Many. Keeps Writing.
Controversy with the _Standard_. Last Meeting with His Mother. Visited
by Professors McGarvey and Graham. Commits His Writings to the Latter.
Visits Eminence and Lexington. Many Brethren Come to See Him. Meeting
at Mt. Byrd. Estimate of His Character. The Closing Scenes

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