_Six Months at Rainsville—A Hotbed of Southern Sympathizers—A
Mix-up with Saloon Men—A Sermon on Slavery—Fire and
Brimstone—An Antagonist Outwitted—A Sermon from the Book of
Newgent—Can Any Good Thing Come Out of Rainsville?_
In 1861, the time of holding the Upper Wabash Conference was changed
from spring to fall. Hence, two sessions were held that year with an
interim of but six months between them. This period was spent by Rev.
Mr. Newgent on the Williamsport Circuit in Warren County, Indiana. He
moved with his family to Rainsville, a village of about one hundred and
fifty inhabitants, located on Vermilion River. The town was still in the
rough, its chief activities centering about two rival saloons. As it had
no church and not a single inhabitant who professed religion, the saloons
had things pretty much their own way. The Newgents occupied part of a
building that formerly did service as the village inn; the rest of it was
occupied by one of the saloon keepers. The two families, however, did
not have undisputed possession of the place, as it seemed to have been
preempted by bed bugs and fleas, which were no inconspicuous feature of
life in Rainsville. While the saloon keeper and the preacher maintained
peaceable relations with each other, these aboriginal neighbors
maintained an attitude of hostility with a persistence that was worthy of
a better cause than they represented.
Another thing that made life in Rainsville interesting during this period
was the war which was then in its first year of progress. The sympathies
of the inhabitants were decidedly with the South. But one man could be
found who claimed to be loyal to the Union, and as might be expected
under such circumstances, he was not very enthusiastic about it. They
could safely be counted on the off side of any question or movement that
involved a moral element. With the war agitation to stir their blood, the
well patronized saloons doing business seven days and nights in the week,
and the absence of any religious institution or influence, Rainsville
might well have served as a basis for the doctrine of total depravity.
The Williamsport Circuit, like most of the country parishes of its day,
afforded a man plenty of room to grow in. If a pastor rusted out it was
his own fault. But Newgent, with his active temperament and fondness for
adventure, was not the man to rust out. Not only the Sabbath, but most
of the evenings between Sabbaths were taken up with preaching services.
Each alternate Sabbath during the Williamsport pastorate he preached four
times, which entailed forty-two miles of travel by horseback. The day’s
program was as follows: Leaving home at daybreak, he rode twenty miles
to a ten o’clock appointment. After the service he would get a “hand
out” for dinner and reach the next appointment at two o’clock, then to a
4:30 service, and on home for meeting at night. Life was both simple and
strenuous in the extreme.
The first Sunday in this village was a memorable one. Leaving his plucky
young wife to hold the fort, the new pastor made his forty-two-mile
round, reaching home about sundown. No provision had been made for
preaching in town, but Newgent resolved to give the inhabitants of this
inferno a chance to hear the gospel. A rowdy mob was collected about
each saloon. An air of general lawlessness, recklessness, and cussedness
prevailed. Games and sports of various sorts were maintained on the
streets. Horseback riders were galloping here and there, firing pistols
and performing various stunts in imitation of life among the untamed
cowboys and Indians. Their boisterous talking and hollowing, with here
and there a man staggering under his load of Rainsville’s chief product,
all combined, might well have led to the conclusion that the demons of
the lower regions had been liberated and were holding high carnival in
celebration of the event.
When Newgent told his wife that he had decided to preach at the school
house that night, she tried to dissuade him, fearing for his safety. And
well she might after what she had seen of life in Rainsville that day.
But he gloried in heroic tasks and heeded not her wise counsel. He at
once set about to publish the appointment. In order to find the people
he went to one of the saloons. The saloon was full of men, and the men
were full of the saloon. Stepping up to the bar-tender he told him that
he was going to hold a religious service at the school house at 7:30. “As
there are no church services in town,” he said, “I am sure you will be
willing to encourage such a movement by closing your place of business
and attending.”
“You can preach all you d—— please; I haven’t been to church for twenty
years,” answered the booze dispenser with a look that seemed to add,
“and I don’t propose to commence now.”
“But I am a stranger here, and you don’t know but I am the smartest man
in the country, or may be the biggest fool. You had better come and find
out for yourself.”
The idea of a church service struck the saloon patrons as a desirable
innovation, and as they were in favor of anything that promised a
diversion, they began to take sides with the preacher. Their enthusiasm
waxed intense, due mainly to the reflex influence of tarrying long at the
grog shop. They were unanimous and emphatic in demanding that the saloon
be closed and that all go to church.
The proprietor finally said that he would consent on condition that his
competitor would do likewise.
“All right, I’ll see him,” and Newgent broke for the other saloon where a
similar situation prevailed. Several of the men volunteered to accompany
him and assist in enforcing the demand, so that an ambassage that carried
with it no small authority presented itself before the high priest of
Gambrinus of the rival saloon. A delegation from one saloon to another,
headed by a preacher, was an uncommon sight, especially in Rainsville,
but it had the desired effect. For once the saloons were closed and
the center of interest transferred to the school house. News of the
meeting spread in short order. The new preacher made himself an object of
curiosity and comment by his establishing diplomatic relations with the
governing bodies of the village, and everybody was anxious to see more of
him. So all Rainsville turned out to church—men, women, boys, girls, and
dogs—all entering heartily into the novelty of a religious service with a
real, “sure enough” preacher at the head of it.
Newgent prudently made the service brief. The sermon was not as spiritual
as it might have been under different conditions, as the congregation was
quite sympathetic and responsive, and he considered it injudicious to
encourage their emotions at that time. He was more especially concerned
about laying plans for the future. How to get them back was the question,
which he sought to solve by a bit of strategy. So, in addition to giving
them a few morsels of wholesome advice, well sugarcoated with his native
good humor, he made the startling announcement that at the next meeting
he would preach on the subject of slavery. If anything were calculated to
bring them back, surely that was.
It was taken for granted, of course, that he was an Abolitionist and
would denounce the South. The blood of those southern sympathizers at
once began to boil. Everybody anticipated a lively time, and interest
became intense. All felt that the foolhardy young fellow did not realize
the danger to which he was exposing himself. An old gentleman, the
village blacksmith, whose father had been a United Brethren preacher,
felt it his duty to warn the reverend gentleman and have him to call
off the entire proceedings. As usual, Newgent was firm. He told the
gentleman, however, that he wanted to be fair to both sides, so if those
who disagreed with him desired, they might get a man to follow him and
present the other side of the question.
This they were only too anxious to do. When the time came, they had their
man. By the time Newgent and his wife arrived at the little school house
that evening it was completely packed and an immense crowd was gathered
on the outside. It was with the greatest difficulty that they forced
themselves through the anxious throng and made their way to the front of
the building. The opponent was on hand, ready to take his measure and
smash all of his arguments. As might be surmised, sympathy was plainly
and emphatically with the southern advocate. If he could not demolish
the frail Abolitionist, there were enough present who were ready to lend
all the assistance he needed. The smell of brimstone was in the air,
indicating the presence of that commodity in unlimited quantities. All
that was lacking for a real conflagration was something to touch it off.
And that something was momentarily expected.
After a brief preliminary exercise, the preacher opened the discussion.
Like the great apostle on Mars Hill, he complimented his hearers on their
seeming interest in the subject at hand. “As the subject of slavery,”
he said, “is stirring our country from one end to the other, and as it
is a subject of such vital importance, I take pleasure at this time in
presenting one phase of it.
“I wish to observe in my remarks, First, the slave; Second, his master;
Third, the law by which he is held in bondage; Fourth, how he is to be
liberated; Fifth, where he is to be colonized.” Thus far, well and good.
These were familiar topics, and had been discussed pro and con even
by the school children. Hence, his opening remarks were according to
expectations, and breathlessly they awaited what was to follow.
Their consternation and chagrin can only be imagined when he proceeded
to state that the slave is the sinner; his master is the devil; the law
by which he is held in bondage is sinful lusts and habits; he is to be
liberated through the blood of Christ; and heaven is the place of his
colonization. Around these propositions he built his discourse without
any reference to slavery as a civil institution. It was strictly a gospel
sermon, and his antagonist had no disposition to reply.
“Well, we are beat,” said the old blacksmith after the service was
dismissed, “but the boy is the sharpest fellow that ever struck this
town.” And he was not alone in his conclusion.
With a view to holding the audience for the next appointment, he
announced that he would preach at that time from the Book of Newgent, the
twenty-eighth chapter and thirty-third verse, “Can any good thing come
out of Rainsville?”
A few days after this announcement, he received a call from an old
gentleman. The unsuspecting brother had been having trouble over the Book
of Newgent. He stated that he and the old woman had been searching the
Bible all week and were unable to find it. He was kindly urged to be
present at the preaching service and assured that his troubles would all
be cleared up. Presumably the matter was explained to his satisfaction,
as he was not heard from again.
The Rainsville pastorate, though brief, was full of thrilling interest,
and was not without substantial results for good. He won the respect and
confidence of this uncouth people, and had the satisfaction of seeing
many of the grosser evils disappear under his ministry. Before he left,
the signs of a brighter day were plainly discernible. His influence with
them was turned to good account, as will be seen in the next chapter.