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.