LAST CAMPAIGN--IN GALESBURG, ILL.--THE UNITED STATES
CONVENTION--LOMBARD UNIVERSITY--OTHER SCHOOLS--JOURNEY
TO MISSOURI--IN MACON CITY--IN BROOKFIELD--ST. JOSEPH
AND OTHER CITIES--GROVE MEETING--ON THE MISSOURI
BOTTOM--BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY--PREACH IN FILLMORE AND MANY OTHER
PLACES--RETURNED HOME--ANTI-ORTHODOX PREACHING--FUNERAL
SERMONS--DEATH--LIFE--CONCLUSION.
My last long campaign was in Missouri and Illinois. Left Chicago,
accompanied by Mrs. Manford, Tuesday night, September 16, 1866, and by
sunrise the next morning we were in Galesburg, Ill., one hundred and
sixty miles southward. The United States Convention of Universalists
was holding its annual session in that place, and we tarried till its
close. Met many clergymen from the East and West I had not before seen;
and had the satisfaction of shaking hands with W. S. Balch, with whom
I studied many years before, but had not beheld his face since I left
his sanctum in Claremont, N. H., to come West. He is now pastor of
the Universalist society in Galesburg. Years have changed the outer
man, somewhat, but the inner man seems to be as vigorous, generous and
brotherly as ever. Brother Balch has noble qualities of head and heart;
and he has ever been faithful and successful in his high calling.
The Lombard University is located in Galesburg; and although
“University” is rather a big name for such an institution--the West is
fond of high sounding names--it is an excellent school, and is doing
a great work. It combines an academy and college; its doors are open
to both sexes, they having equal privileges. This is as it should be.
The old custom of educating girls and boys apart is all wrong. They
learn faster together than if educated separately. A healthy rivalry
is induced, each sex being anxious to secure the approbation of the
other; besides, associating together, not less in the school-room than
at home tends to refine and invigorate both sexes. The property of this
institution is one hundred thousand dollars, and about as much more has
recently been subscribed for its benefit. It is destined to exert a
vast influence in the West in favor of liberal principles.
The denomination has several other excellent institutions of learning
in the United States. There is Tufts College, located in Medford,
Mass., four miles from Boston. Its funds and real estate are worth
eight hundred and five thousand dollars. It has a library embracing
ten thousand volumes. In Canton, N. Y., we have two schools--the
St. Lawrence University, and Theological School. The University has
property worth one hundred and four thousand dollars. We also have an
academy in Clinton, N. Y., called the Clinton Liberal Institute. It has
property amounting to fifty thousand dollars. We likewise have a school
in Westbrook, Me., three miles from Portland. It is one of the best
institutions in the state, and its permanent fund is thirty thousand
dollars. The Green Mountain Institute is located in Woodstock, Vt. A
fine farm is connected with the school, and the average attendance is
about one hundred. In Glover, Vt., the Orleans Liberal Institute is
located. From seventy to one hundred pupils attend it, and its friends
intend to increase its usefulness.
There are three other educational institutions being established by the
denomination. One in Jefferson, Wis. It has so far progressed, that
one term has been held. A fine academy building will soon be erected.
In Barre, sixteen miles from Montpelier, the capital of Vermont, our
brethren are establishing a school. Fifty thousand dollars have already
been subscribed. In Franklin, Mass., a first class academy will soon
be in operation. Dr. Dean, its founder, donated sixty thousand dollars,
and the trustees have raised forty thousand more. A magnificent
building is nearly finished on a beautiful site, with ample grounds.
This is a pretty fair record for so young a denomination as ours; and
all this has been accomplished in about thirty-five years. But our work
is only fairly begun in the educational field. More schools must be
established; and those already in operation must be strengthened, and
their usefulness increased. Proper education improves the head and the
heart, and qualifies us to act with dignity and success our part on the
stage of life.
September 20th. Mrs. Manford returned to Chicago, and at 5 o’clock
P. M., I took cars for Quincy, one hundred miles south; and the next
morning was steaming across the Missouri prairies to Macon City, sixty
miles west of the great river. Most of the country is prairie, high,
dry and rolling, with good soil, but thinly settled. Saw large herds of
cattle, horses, mules and sheep, feeding on the vast savannas. Lectured
in Macon City. A good congregation would immediately be gathered here,
if a minister could be obtained. Two lawyers, especially, expressed
much anxiety for such an arrangement. Macon is at the crossing of the
Hannibal and St. Joseph, and North Missouri railroads, and is bound to
be an important town.
September 22d. Rode to Brookfield, forty miles west. Crossed the
dividing ridge between the Mississippi and Missouri rivers, two of the
great rivers of the world. Most of the country is hilly, timber is
plenty, and the soil middling. Brookfield is exactly midway between the
two rivers. The railroad company has its machine shops here, and the
town is in a flourishing condition. The country around is beautiful
and productive. It is a charming locality for a home. Rode into the
country the next day, Sunday, eight miles, and talked to the people;
returned in the afternoon, and lectured to a fair congregation.
September 25th. Proceeded to Chillicothe, forty miles toward the
setting sun, and delivered my message. This is a fine town, and
improving rapidly. We ought to have a church here, and could soon have
one if proper effort was made. We always have large congregations here.
I. M. Westfall, several years since, had a discussion in this place
with a Methodist minister, and he made the dry bones shake.
September 27th. Journeyed to St. Joseph, about seventy miles. This is
the largest town in North Missouri. It is located on the east bank
of the Missouri river; has quite a city appearance; the streets are
paved, and the business houses are chiefly brick, and of a substantial
character. This, and three other towns within seventy-five miles, are
striving for the mastery--Kansas City, Leavenworth and Lawrence. Time
only will determine which will win. But there is bound to be one large
commercial center somewhere in this region. Which of the four will be
that city? I refer to 1875 for an answer.
September 28th. Rode to Savannah, thirteen miles northward, and
lectured in the evening. R. K. Jones, an active and enterprising man,
preaches here monthly. Expect to spend three weeks traveling where
there are no railroads; and as I have no conveyance of my own, shall
depend on a kind Providence, and good friends for transportation.
September 29th. Rode horseback to Fillmore, ten miles; a sprightly boy
went with me to lead the horse back; and on the next day, Sunday, was
conveyed by a friend, to Mound City, eighteen miles, where I delivered
a long discourse at eleven o’clock, in a beautiful grove, and in the
evening spoke in a school-house, four miles distant.
October 1st. Rode a borrowed horse twelve miles, and lectured at
night. Was sick two days from excessive speaking. Met a woman who heard
me in Ohio twenty-five years ago. Am now sixty miles above St. Joseph,
on the Missouri river bottom. The soil is as rich as was that of the
far-famed valley of Egypt. Most of the bottom is prairie, and the
land dry, warm and easily tilled. It is a charming region--beautiful
beyond description. A few miles west, the Missouri bluffs in Kansas and
Nebraska are visible. Although barely able to sit on the horse, I rode
twelve miles.
October 4th. The ride did me good--am all right again. Went in a buggy
to Oregon, twelve miles, and heard an excellent discourse by R. K.
Jones. About one year previous, I delivered three discourses in this
town, the first of the kind heard there, and they caused considerable
excitement; whereupon Mr. Smith, a Presbyterian clergyman, proposed
debating, to which I consented. We settled the preliminaries; but Mr.
Smith’s ardor for the discussion soon abated, and the subject was
dropped. But another party is now trying to get up a discussion with
me, and they are corresponding with Mr. Summerhill, of Cincinnati,
Ohio, a noted minister in his order, about engaging in it.
October 5th. Went to Fillmore--rode part way, and walked part way--and
lectured in the evening. A society will probably soon be organized
here, as we have a goodly number of friends within a few miles of the
place. At a previous visit to this town, a preacher replied to my
discourse. There were several clergymen of different denominations
present, and they delegated this one to be spokesman. But he yielded
so much that his colleagues were disgusted and said, “he might as well
have proclaimed himself a Universalist.”
October 7th. A friend conveyed me on Sunday morning, to Whitesville,
eighteen miles, where I spoke on that day twice. Here also a society
could be formed.
October 8th. A gentleman and lady took me in a buggy to Rochester,
sixteen miles, where I spoke to a large congregation, but found only a
few who sympathized with me.
October 9th. A kind friend conveyed me to my next appointment, in
Maysville, twenty-five miles eastward. He took his three boys with him,
he said, that they might see the country for they were all recently
from Ohio. Men and boys were delighted with the country we passed over,
as well they might be, for it is a lovely land--high, rolling, rich
prairie. A large number attended the meeting. Probably not a dozen
present had before heard a discourse on the Restitution. I hope some
good seed was sown, and, that it will germinate, bud, blossom, and
yield a rich harvest.
October 10th. Rode twenty-five miles to-day, and preached at night, and
the next day. These were the first sermons on our faith ever heard in
Gallatin. A Congregationalist minister gave notice that he should reply
to them, two days subsequently. In a conversation with him he remarked,
that his denomination were the “_liberals_ of the evangelical school.”
They may be in the West, but they certainly are not in the East. Their
creed is cold, cruel, intolerant, Calvinism. There is not a particle of
liberality or generosity in it. It is as rigid as iron bars, and cold
as icebergs.
October 12th. Rode horseback sixteen miles, to Bancroft, and lectured.
Although our liberal faith had not before been publicly taught here,
I found many friends. A large family by the name of Hendricks, all
formerly Dunkards, reside here, and they are devoted believers in the
Restitution. Most of that denomination, I have met with, agree with
us in the final redemption of humanity, and they are generally truly
christian people. Elhanan Winchester once said, “If God has a people on
earth, it is the Dunkards.”
October 13th. A friend took me to Trenton, eighteen miles, where I
delivered three sermons. They were the first of the kind in the town,
or county, and large numbers attended. A preacher did his best to
keep the people away, but he was nearly deserted, for the people were
bound to hear the “new doctrine.” I here met a man by the name of John
Murray, who said he was a distant relative of the sainted Rev. John
Murray. When I was in Iowa City recently, I found a man by the name of
Winchester, who is a relative of Rev. Elhanan Winchester, of blessed
memory. They have good blood in their veins.
October 15th. Conveyed to Lindville, fifteen miles, and preached at
night. The people here had not before heard one of our faith. Some
believed, and some disbelieved.
October 16th. Rode fourteen miles on horseback, and walked six miles.
Came to a stream where there was no bridge, and pulling off boots and
socks, waded through, and passed on to fill my appointments. Lectured
twice in this place, Milan, to full houses.
October 18th. Went to Greencastle, fifteen miles, and lectured twice.
There is a small society in this village, and two brother preachers are
residing near by--W. Brise and G. S. Ayers. It is to be hoped they will
hereafter devote more of their time to the ministry.
October 20th. Lectured in Unionville twice, and once in the
neighborhood; and the next day was conveyed by a friend to Lancaster,
twenty miles still farther onward, where I also spoke twice. The next
day, rode to Memphis, or rather rode and walked, twenty-five miles,
where I spoke twice, and once in the country. From thence was conveyed
by a friend to Bentonsport, Iowa, where I took the cars and went home.
I recently heard a discourse by one of our ministers, and he gave
Orthodoxy an awful cudgeling. I do not like that kind of preaching.
It is too much of the meat-axe order. The christian minister should
preach the gospel in all its fulness--present it in its doctrinal,
moral, and spiritual aspect. But cutting, slashing, and banging, at
this creed, and that creed, at this sect and that sect, is not exactly
preaching the gospel. It may be the minister’s duty, now and then,
under peculiar circumstances, to handle other creeds without gloves;
but let him remember and do his duty in this respect in a loving
spirit. But there should be but little of this kind of controversial
sermonizing. Telling people of the beauty and glory of truth and
virtue, and urging a practical knowledge of the same, is far better
than to be fighting Orthodoxy. It must be admitted, that some of the
fathers of our denomination, in this respect, have set a bad example.
They had too much of the Ishmaelite spirit, and many of us have imbibed
of it copiously. True, they were assailed by slander and falsehood, in
private and in public, at home and abroad, when they went in, and when
they went out; and it required a copious infusion of the Divine Spirit
to be perfect lambs under such circumstances. And our people in the
West and South, especially the ministers, are still pursued with the
same maliciousness, injustice and cruelty, and it requires remarkable
good nature to be thus treated without striking back. But some of us
have rather overdone this matter of “using up” Orthodoxy. Not, it is
to be hoped, that we have been actuated by the fiendish spirit of some
of our enemies, but we spend too much precious time, and waste too
much material, on their creeds. Better present the truth in its native
beauty and grace, and the world will soon fall in love with it, and
take it to it’s heart.
I had been at home but a few days, when I was called to the southern
part of Illinois, to deliver two funeral discourses. One of them was on
the occasion of the death of Mrs. Middleworth, an estimable woman, cut
down in the vigor of womanhood, and in the midst of usefulness. A large
number attended the service; some came as far as fifteen miles. Surely,
if ever we need consolation, it is when death enters our abode, and
snatches therefrom a dear friend. Sensitive ties are then severed, and
affection’s nerves receive a dreadful shock. The death of a friend is
like an untimely frost on an orange grove; it may indeed kill but one,
but it blights the whole grove. But death is no new thing under the
sun. For six thousand years mankind have been dying. It is estimated
that sixty persons die every minute. Every hour in the day, week,
month, year, century, thousands of human beings breathe their last
breath, and heave their last sigh. All over the world are dying scenes,
and funeral scenes. An army of the living are employed to bury an army
of the dead. And this sad work has been going on for sixty centuries.
How true are the words of the wise man: “One generation passeth
away, and another generation cometh.” Death and the grave are never
satisfied. The high and the low, the old and the young, the saint and
the sinner, must alike be prostrated in death when the king of terror
hurls his unerring dart. As ocean wave succeeds wave, so generation of
men succeed generation, and each in its turn is borne to, and dashes
and dies upon the fearful shore of time. Every thing on earth speaks of
mutation and death. The lofty marble monument, erected to commemorate
human genius; the stately palace of wealth, pomp and greatness, are
being crumbled to dust by the busy and untiring hand of time. Saith the
Bible, “All flesh is grass.” As the grass withereth, and the flower
fadeth, so with mortal man. The decree has gone forth from the court
of heaven, and cannot be revoked, “Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt
thou return.” No appeal is admitted; no reversal of the judgment need
be expected. _Die we all must!_ But how little is this dreadful fact
realized by many! How many spend life as if they believed it would
never end! To the accumulation of earthly treasures, or the advancement
of ambitious schemes, multitudes devote all their energy, all their
talent, all their precious time. Unwise men! God made us for more noble
pursuits; and he who devotes all of life’s blessed moments to the
accumulation of earth’s perishable treasures, answers not to the end
of his being, is not a friend to himself, but rather his own greatest
enemy.
But when the decrees of the Almighty shall be executed; when dust shall
have returned to dust, and ashes to ashes, shall we be no more forever?
Will death never yield his prey? Shall we share the fate of the beetle
and the worm? Will the tender ties of love and affection, which are
severed by the cold hand of death, with weeping eyes and bleeding
heart, never be reunited? And when we consign our dear friends to the
grave, shall we never more behold them? Never more enjoy their society,
which society made a heaven of earth? And when we shall bid farewell
to earth, and close our eyes in death, shall we be annihilated? Some
there are, who answer these important questions in the affirmative.
Some there are, who tell us, that death is an eternal sleep, that the
grave and the worm will devour our all; that we are like the bubble
on the wide ocean, seen for a moment, and then disappear to be known
no more forever. But thank God, we have reason to hope for better
things. We have reason to hope that there is a life beyond this life,
a world beyond this world, where friends will meet, where the great
family of God will meet, to part no more; that on the blissful plains
of immortality, the severed links of humanity will be welded in an
immortal chain, never more to be severed.
While in the neighborhood where this service was held, I delivered two
other discourses, to great congregations. From thence I went to Dudley,
and delivered another funeral discourse, on the occasion of the death
of Mrs. Sutherland, a devoted believer in our most holy faith, and an
excellent woman. It is sometimes said by the opposers of the Great
Salvation, that it is good to live by, but not to die by. But it seems
to me, that what is good to live by, must be good to die by, for what
prepares us to live, prepares us to die. When the opposer tells me,
that my religion “is good to live by,” I thank him for such testimony
in its favor; but I cannot return the compliment, cannot admit that
his creed, let it be what it may, if it denies the essential features
of the Restitution, “is good to live by.” Is Atheism, which denies a
God, and orphanizes the world, “good to live by?” Is Deism, that denies
a Savior, and doubts an hereafter, “good to live by?” Is Partialism,
that represents God as cruel, revengeful and unjust; as loving some and
hating others; blessing some and cursing others, world without end,
“good to live by?” Men can live with such creeds in their heads, as
they can live on horse ham and mule stake; but it is living at a poor
dying rate.
But then, this faith so full of grace “is not good to die by.” But
why not? It represents God as a universal Father, Christ a universal
Savior, and heaven the home to which all are tending. Is not faith in
such a God, such a Savior, and such a Destiny, good in the hour of
death? The truth is, nothing but this can afford peace and consolation
in that dark and solemn hour. Atheism, Deism, Partialism, are found
wanting in man’s dying moments, as when in the possession of health and
vigor. True, many close their eyes in death with blissful hopes, who do
not accept the faith of God’s Universal Grace, and for this reason--in
their dying hour they gaze entirely on the bright side of their creed,
for it has a bright side as well as a dark side. They think they can
read their “title clear to mansions in the skies,” hence depart in
peace. But if they looked for an instant on the dark side of their
faith; if they considered that they may be mistaken with regard to
their own salvation, and instead of going to heaven may go to hell. And
then, around their dying couch are their near and dear friends; and for
aught they know, all of them in a few years will be lifting up their
eyes in eternal torment, and begging for a drop of water to cool their
flaming tongues--if the dying deemed this possible, and it is possible
if Orthodoxy is true, would not the thought turn joy into the bitterest
sorrow, and songs of praise into howls of despair? But the truth is
adapted to all stages and conditions of humanity. It is our counselor,
guide, and hope, in the strength and vigor of manhood; our staff in
sickness and old age; our _all_ when our eyes are closing in death, and
the grave is opening at our feet.
After speaking in five other places in the south part of the state,
I returned home; and had been there but two days, when a telegraphic
despatch summoned me to attend the funeral of Mrs. Jameson, in Marshall
county, Ill., over one hundred miles distant. When turning away from
her grave, her husband remarked: “There is buried one of the best women
that ever lived.” That is the best eulogy that can be pronounced over
the grave of the dead. The departed suffered for months, by day and by
night, the most excruciating physical agony, but not a murmur dropped
from her lips. She knew that sickness was unto death, and she welcomed
the approach of the angel of deliverance. A good life and a christian
faith, are blessed friends in the sunset of life. As I am writing about
the last page of this book, a letter, with a black border, from a woman
in Missouri is received, announcing the death of her husband, and
requesting me to attend his funeral. It was his desire, she writes,
that I should do so, and I must respect his dying wish.
The common view of death, I am satisfied, is too dark and gloomy. When
we look upon the cold and rigid form, the closed eyes and pale brow, of
the dead, a sense of gloom, and a vague feeling of fear comes over us;
but we should remember, that the being that lately animated that now
lifeless body, is a resident of the “house not made with hands, eternal
in the heavens.” But we are oppressed too much by what we see, and have
not faith enough in the reality of a life in heaven. And hence it is,
that in the chamber of death, at the time of the Holy Passover, bitter
sobbings are heard, in the place of song of rejoicing; and hence it is
that the coffin, our second cradle, is followed to the grave by those
who are arrayed in gloomy habiliments expressive of grief and sorrow.
To those who have passed into the house of “many mansions,” death must
appear in a very different light. The two grand eras in our life below,
its beginning and its close, birth and death, must be viewed by them as
really beautiful and equally divine. The departed know by experience
what death is. They have tasted the cup, and know that it contains, not
a poisonous draught, but the wine of life. They know that this is a
world of shadows, not the world above.
When the hour of death arrives, the couch of the dying is surrounded by
invisible friends, as by those who still abide in the flesh; and one
hand of the dying is held by those to whom he is now to bid adieu; and
the other is taken by those whom the eye of flesh can no longer see.
“On the one side, there is weeping and almost despair; on the other,
the joyful hymn of welcome. Surely tears are a relief to men in this
mortal state; and I would not even seem to say that they are wrong. I
say only this, that the occasion of our most intense grief, would be no
occasion of grief, were death understood by us as it is by those who
know by experience--by that holy experience--what it is. Were we able
to follow, with open eyes, those who are dear to us, as they pass away,
and see them as they are in the Better Land, and know how they are
surrounded and employed, we should not mourn as we now do when friends
depart, nor should we feel any temptation thus to mourn, and the fear
of death would be wholly unknown to us.”
This, I believe, to be the correct view of death; and its general
prevalence would dispel the gloom that now hangs over the grave, and
save the world many tears and griefs. The day will come when the
inhabitants of the earth, having a proper estimate of death, and
the hereafter, will wonder that we regarded death with the gloomy
apprehension we do. When that day blesses the world, there will be no
more death, as most of mankind now regard it.
* * * * *
To conclude: I have innumerable reasons to be grateful to Almighty
God, that I have lived so long, enjoyed almost uninterrupted good
health, had so many friends, and been permitted to labor in the gospel
ministry. Truly, the Lord has blessed me all the days of my life. I
have never had but two spells of sickness, and they were induced by
hard labor in hot weather. Notwithstanding my extensive traveling, I
have never met with the slightest accident, and I have journeyed by
sea and land, in sailing vessels and steamboats, on railroads and on
horseback, in stages, and in wagons of all descriptions. Have traveled
in dangerous localities by day and by night, but a penknife is the
largest weapon I ever carried. One more personal remark--I never
snuffed, chewed, or smoked tobacco; neither did I ever poison my body
or my soul with a glass of liquor--do not know whisky from brandy, and
do not covet the knowledge.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Punctuation has been made consistent.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have
been corrected.
The following changes were made:
p. 107: as inserted (now as it was)
p. 110: partially obscured word mporal assumed to be temporal (in
temporal ruin.)
p. 299: art changed to act (the act of)