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 preemption. 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 cooperation 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 cooperated with me as to effect certain ends, our engagement would close. I did not succeed in getting the cooperation 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., Cooperation 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.