History of the Restoration Movement


 

*The Autobiography of
B.F. Hall, M.D. and D.D.S.

It is no agreeable task for one to undertake to write the history of his own life. I nerve myself to the task, not from any feeling of vanity, or to transmit my humble name to posterity, but, if possible, to do good after I am dead; with the hope that my example may stimulate and incourage(sic) some poor young man to break the shackles that fetter him, and rise above his early surroundings.

I was born in Nicholas County, Kentucky, the 15th day of June 1803. My father was a Virginian by birth, and lost his father of Smallpox when he was but a boy. His mother, being poor, and having but two children—both sons—put the younger out to learn the tanning business, and the elder, my father, to the shoe-making business. As soon, however, as he was of mature age, not liking his trade, he turned farmer. He first became an overseer for some gentleman in Fauquire (sic) County. Being sober and economical, he acquired some property, and purchased a farm and went to work on his own account.

My mother on her mother's side was French, and descended from the Huguenots. Her ancestors were among the few Protestants who escaped massacre on the fatal night of St. Bartholomew, when so many thousands fell martyrs to the persecuting hate of Romanists in France. I have set for hours and heard my dear old grandmother tell of the scenes of that dreadful night, and the manner of escape of her ancestors from the massacre. Those recitals created in me a dislike to Romanists which I have not wholly conquered to this day.

My father was a Revolutionary soldier, and was in several battles. He was afterwards with General Wayne against the Indians. When a boy I used to sit and hear my father and his old fellow soldiers talk over those scenes of war and bloodshed. From that Lime to the present I have not been especially fond of the British or Indians. So much for early impressions and prejudices.

My mother, whose name was Martha Foster, was born in New Jersey but when quite small, her parents removed to Virginia and settled in the neighborhood of my father. Her parents were rigid Presbyterians of the blue-stocking order. Hence she was brought up in that faith, but could never be a Calvinist, My father's mother was a Baptist. My father, though a strictly moral man, and lived to be almost 80 years old, never made a profession of religion.

My mother, when quite young, was converted under preaching of the Wallers, the Craigs and Samuel Harris, the Baptist "Apostle;" and, against the wishes of all her friends joined the Baptists. I have frequently heard her say she was seven years "under conviction," and was all that time "seeking religion," and anxiously inquiring what she must do to be saved. She was a woman of good judgment, fine memory, large conscientiousness and remarkable decision of character.

She had profound reverence for the word of God, and could repeat whole chapters, in both the Old and New Testament, by memory. She loved the Psalms of David. She was a great admirer of Watts and Rippons' hymns, and could repeat, perhaps, more than one hundred of them by memory. She was possessed of a strong faith in the God of the Bible and Providence. She could see God in everything. Altogether she was a great and noble woman. Her influence had more to do in moulding my character than all others together. I cherish her memory yet with the fondest, tenderest emotions. Though dead, she still speaks to me and many others. I thank the Lord for giving me such a mother. She has gone to her high reward.

When "Continental money" was yet, my father sold his real estate, consisting of two farms in Virginia and such personal property as he could not take with him, and with two loaded wagons started to Wheeling in company with a Mr. Metcalf and family (the father of the late Governor Thomas Metcalf) where they purchased two flat boats, and having wythed them together, started down the Ohio river, destined for Limestone (now Maysville) Kentucky. They frequently saw Indians on the Ohio side but were not, at any time attacked by them. They reached their destination in due time, and all well. Maysville then consisted of a few log cabins. There was but one house then between them and Lexington, which was at that time an insignificant little town of log buildings. The whole country was covered with switch cane. As Indians made frequent, raids into Kentucky, and no place was considered free from their incursions, they did, for several year, go into the interior', but lived in Lee's Station, a few miles from Maysville. The people in the Station—and there was a number of them—went to work and enclosed ground enough to raise sufficient grain to bread all their families. Some worked, while others, guns in their hands, kept a lookout for Indians.

A few years after this, the lndians became less troublesome, and people left the Station and began to open farms in the interior of Kentucky. My Father purchased land on the North fork of Leiking{Licking}, where he remained for a few years, when he sold out and purchased still further in the interior, where Morefield now is in Nicholas County, where he remained till his death about the year 1833.

My parents had some four or five children when they came to Kentucky, but lived until they had eleven, eight sons and three daughters, all married, save one!, my youngest brother, Dr. B.W. Hall of Nashville, Tennessee. Out of the eleven only four are now living, three brothers and one sister.

The neighborhood in which my father lived was almost entirely Presbyterian, and most of the family became members of that church. My father's house was the preacher's home—not only Presbyterian, but those of other denominations. I attended that church generally, and their Sunday School, where I learned the whole "Shorter Catechism," and memorized many of the Psalms and numerous chapters in the New Testament, which I can repeat my memory at this time. I have never forgotten them. Youth is the period to store the mind with knowledge to be used in riper years.

The rudiments of my education were acquired, first in a log School house, and after in a frame building, some two miles from father’s on the road, which was frequently muddy in winter. Here I learned to read and write and “cypher” through Gutherie’s and Pike’s Arithmetic. 

After I became large enough to work in the crop, I went to School only in the winter, and worked the farm the rest of the year. I never had to be persuaded, nor scolded to go to school; on the contrary, I often cried when I was told I had to stay from school. I was often whipped for mischief at school, but never because I did not learn my lessons. I was fond of learning.

My parents were very strict with their children; and frequently chastized us for "breaking the Sabbath," so called. I continued to go to school in winter and work on the farm in summer until I was not far from seventeen years of age. Sometime before this I was encouraged by Gen. T. Fletcher, a friend of my father's, to study law, and had read Blackstone, and a few other elementary works and studied them pretty thoroughly for a boy of my age, and wits occasionally examined by Gen. F., who encouraged me by saying I was learning rapidly. My reading law, however, was carefully concealed from my father, who had quite a repugnance to the profession.

When I was about Seventeen years of age, an incident occurred, which changed the whole tenor of my life.

My brother next older than myself were {sic} quite volatile and fond of fun, even though it should be at the expense, and to the injury of others. In the spring, when the corn was fully up, we attended a muster in the neighborhood. A good deal of whiskey was sold and drank on such occasions. Towards evening it began to rain. We bought whiskey, pint after pint, and induced quite a number of my father's neighbors, heads of families and others, to drink. They agreed to drink as long as we would buy and give them. They drank until several of them were becoming drunk. One of them, a good liver, feeling quite rich just then, invited the crowd to his house for supper. We all went; my brother and I to see the fun; for we had drank none whatever. By the time we got to the house, some were too drunk to eat, or to go home; and they fell on the floor and rolled, and cursed and swore, and some were very sick. Some would sing and pray and use profane language, by turns. Thus the night wore away, and the morning was drawing near, when my brother and I had to be at home to begin our day's work. So we set out and reached home about day break. That day my brother harrowed the young corn and I re-planted. How my brother's mind had been employed through the day, I had no means of knowing, but mine had been painful occupied with the scenes of the past day and night. I thought how sinfully we had acted, and how much sin we had been the occasion of others' committing. The recollection of these stung the heart. I began to awake to a sense of my sinful condition. The sins of my life rushed, thick and fast, into my mind. I grew sick at heart, and tears, bitter, burning, blinding tears, rolled down my cheeks. I felt that I was a sinner; a great sinner; a hell-deserving sinner. The guilt of my many and heignous{heinous} sins came careering up before my mind, and a sense of guilt settled, with a leaden weight upon my heart. I was opprest; my heart was crushed with grief. Then and there, in the field, I resolved, for the first time in my life, to change my course, and to seek the Lord, and never to give over {to} the struggle until I had the evidence of pardon. I had been brought up to say my prayers; and often had my dear old mother taken me with her into the closet, and knealt{knelt} down with me by her side upon my knees, and, putting her blessed hand upon my head, prayed for her poor, sinful boy. Still, I had never prayed. My heart had never gone out after God. I had never, until now, been burdened. oppressed, crushed beneath the weight of conscious sins. I had never known before what repentance meant. But now I felt it all, painfully poignantly. Every breath was a prayer for mercy. But my lips moved not, except with quivering emotions. For the first time in my life I resolved to seek a retired spot to pray—to pour out my burdened soul before God.

The sun was almost down. Our day's work was done. My brother started towards the house, and I went of a secret place to pray. Back of the field, near a hollow, in a briar thicket, I found a shot suited to my purpose. After looking all around to be assured that no one saw me, I dropped upon my knees, my head and hands upon a log, I made my first effort to pray. I knealt{knelt} for some moments in silence, for words came not to my lips. I could think of nothing to say. My pent-up grief was intense. It seemed that my heart would break. Tears gushed unbidden from my eyes. I sobbed aloud. A wail of agony welled up from the deep fountain of my heart. Amid sobs and groans I instinctively, and half unconsciously, ejaculated, "God, have mercy on my poor soul!" but I could think of nothing else to say. My agony of soul was too intense for utterance. I fell prostrate, my face upon the ground, and wept, and sobbed, and groaned with agony of soul. I had, somehow, imbibed the idea that God of stern inflexibility, of rigid justice, but without mercy, and that Christ was full of mercy and compassion. These ideas now rushed upon my mind, and under their influence, I instantly turned my thoughts to Jesus, and cried out, "O thou compassionate Savior, have mercy upon my poor sinful, miserable soul!" How long I wept and prayed, I know not; but when I bethought myself it was night. I arose and started for the house. On the way, I dried up my tears, and composed myself as much as possible to prevent anyone from knowing my state of mind. Supper was announced; I went to the table, but could not eat. My countenance must have looked haggard, for my mother asked me if I was sick: I told her I did not feel well; and, lest I should be interrogated further, and something should be said that would reveal the state of my mind, I left the table, and retired to my room. I went to bed early; and though I had slept none for more than twenty-four hours, I could not sleep. For a long time I wept, until my pillow was wet with tears; finally, exhausted, I sunk into a troubled sleep. I dreamed the day of judgment had come, I thought one at a time was called into a church-house, that was in the neighborhood, to give an account of his past conduct. All the people of the neighborhood, I thought, were out of doors, and one by one, they were called into the house. The aisle was in the middle of the house, directly before the pulpit, which was at the further end of the house from the door; and I thought that, as each one was judged, he was assigned a place in the house, either on the right or left-hand of the Judge, according as he was either acquitted or condemned. The righteous were placed on the right, and the wicked on the left hand of the Judge.

     My mother's name at length was called. She quietly arose and walked calmly and alone into the house. My heart beat terribly, but I had no difficulty in dividing in my own mind what her doom would be, and I as readily decided what would be my fate—the very opposite of my mother's. I waited in silence and in dreadful apprehensions, and with deep emotion, to be summoned before the throne. I knew that justice would be done me, for Jesus was the Judge; but justice was the very thing that I feared. But I had not to wait long, for soon my name was called, and I arose, trembling, and went in. As I entered the door, looking to the right hand of the Judge, I saw my mother. I caught her eye. She was weeping. I knew it was in anticipation of my doom. Her lips quivered, as I had seen them quiver a thousand times before when she was burdened with grief too deep for utterance. She spoke not, but turned away her head and wept. I cast my eyes towards Jesus as he sat upon his throne with the Bible open before him. He cast one look upon me. It was full of tenderness, but I read in his countenance my fearful doom. He gently called me to draw near before him. I started down the isle, but before I had reached the spot his eye had indicated for me to come, I awoke, and, to my infinite relief, behold, it was a dream! It would, nevertheless, have been a reality, as resputed my destiny, had I at that time been summoned before the judgment seat of Christ.

     The next day was Saturday, and I had an appointment with a young man to visit, that evening, some young ladies in the neighborhood. But now I did not wish to make the visit. In my state of mind I could not engage in frivolous conversation, and any other sort would not likely interest them. Then, I did not wish to my condition of mind. I had resolved to live a new life, and did not wish my attention to be diverted from it. What was I to do; Would it be right to ignore my promise to the young man? This, I thought, would not be honorable. Should I meet him, he might insist on my filling my engagement, which I now resolved not to do. After revaluing the subject, as I supposed, fully in my mind, I determined to meet him at the time and place agreed upon, and frankly tell him all, and ask him to release me from the engagement. I went accordingly, and on the way I decided on the manner in which I should broach the subject. We met. Our greeting was, as usual, cordial. I soon summoned resolution to open my case fully before him, and in conclusion, asked to release me from the engagement. What was my delight and joy, when he not only released me, but added, as I had resolved to set out for heaven, he would become my companion on the journey.

     There was no religious excitement at this time in the neighborhood; indeed religion seemed to be at low ebb. The next day the people who called themselves Christians had a meeting in the neighborhood. I had a sister, younger than myself, who, next to my mother, was the idol of my heart. I asked her to accompany me to the meeting. She readily consented. On the way I revealed to her the state of my mind, and asked her to join me in seeking the Lord. She was a sweet girl and religiously inclined. She wept, and promised to go with me to heaven. We sat that day some distance apart, but so that I could see her face, and I loved to look at her, for to me she was very precious. During the sermon I noticed that she wept, and the preacher too noticed it; and in the conclusion of the discourse he invited persons forward to the anxious seat. I thought that, likely, my sister would like to go forward, and I wished her to go. When the congregation commenced singing, I went to my sister and asked her if she wished to go up to be prayed for? She said she did, but could not get through the crowd. I told her I would go with her. We both arose from our seat, she took my arm, and I led her through the press near to the minister where I sat down, and my sweet sister knelt, resting her head upon my knee. The audience appeared to be astonished, both at my sister and myself. We had taken them by surprise, for no one, except the young man alluded to above, knew anything of my feelings, and until then, he was ignorant of my sister's purpose and feelings. My conduct was inexplicable. When they saw me go to my sister, they supposed my purpose was to prevent her going up to be prayed for, perhaps, to take her out of the house—for all had seen her emotions; but I was stern, and had not shed a tear. They had seen me looking at her. And when they saw me lead her forward, weeping, and me unmoved, they were greatly perplexed. They did not understand. My concern was not about myself, but her. And when, after prayer, the minister commenced talking to me, I told him to talk to my sister. After dismission, my sister took my arm, and we started home. On the way I encouraged her all I could, and exhorted her never to give over till she had found her Savior. She promised to hold on faithfully, and try to meet me in heaven. Shortly afterwards she joined the Baptist church with her mother, and in  relating her experience, dated her conviction from my conversation to her. The young man, a few weeks afterward, joined the Christian Church, and stated that the first concern he had felt about his soul was occasioned by my speaking to him on the subject of religion.

As yet, I had not "got through." I continued to go to meetings, whenever opportunity offered, day and night, far and near.

One afternoon Elder John Rogers preached at a private house in the neighborhood. Many were there, and I among the rest. At the close of his discourse, he invited "mourners'' forward to be prayed for. I sat and wept, but moved not. A lady seeing my agitation, pressed through the crowd, and asked me if I did not wish to go forward? I answered, I did, but could not get through the press. She told me to follow her, that she would open the way for me. I went forward and, kneeling down, began to beg for mercy. This was the first time I had ever asked God's people to pray for me; but after that, I went forward at every meeting when mourners were called for.

I neglected to state, at the proper place, that, the day after I had resolved to change my life, and after my dreadful dream of the judgment, my mother sought an opportunity to speak with me privately; and, suspecting the real cause of my want of appetite and haggard appearance, she asked what was the matter with me; and in a way that none but a mother, a Christian mother, can do, desired me to be candid with her. I told her all, and found relief in the disclosure. During the recital, tears came in to her eyes; when I had concluded my brief but sad story, tears gushed from her eyes. She wept aloud, and threw hear blessed arms about my neck, and I threw my arms around her neck, and, clasped in each other's embraces, we wept. My mother wept from joy, and I wept from mingled emotions of joy and grief. For a long time we thus stood, our hearts beating and our tears mingling together. It was a scene wholly new to me. It was the beginning of joy and happiness.

Time wore on, still no relief came to my troubled mind, my burdened heart. True, my mental agony was gradually becoming less intense; but this increased my grief, for I was beginning to fear my convictions were leaving me, and this caused me great sorrow. Still, I resolved never to give up the struggle. I prayed regularly night and morning, and as often through the day as I could find a secret place in which to beg God for mercy. Away in the night I would retire to a grove not very distant from the house, and pray for mercy, and beg the Lord to show me some token of my acceptance with him. I would close my eyes and desire to a light like that which Paul saw, or to hear a voice, like to that which he heard, I wanted to hear him tell me in an audible voice that my sins were forgiven. I had frequently heard professors speak of having had such manifestations, and of hearing God thus speak peace to their souls. I had been always taught that this was the evidence which God afforded a person of the remission of his sins. And what less could I reasonably expect! I waited long for such a manifestation, and anxiously expected it whenever God saw proper to forgive my sins.

This was the condition of my mind when, one day a preacher came by to get me to go to meeting with him. Soon alter we started, he asked me how I was getting on seeking religion, and whether I had yet found the Lord in the remission of my sins? I replied that I was getting on badly; that, instead of having heard the voice of the Lord telling me my sins were forgiven, I feared I was losing my convictions; that the burden of my sins was not then as oppressive as it had been, which caused me great alarm. At this the preacher smiled. I thought it cruel of him to smile at my grief, occasioned too, by the fear that I was growing worse instead of better. He saw I was hurt, and observed I was mistaken. I replied that I feared I was not mistaken. He proposed to ask me some questions, to which I assented. He proceeded to ask me if I loved the Lord? The question brought me to reflection; to earnest thinking; and I inquired mentally, what is God? what are His attributes, his character? Do I know what he is? If not, how can I be assured that I love him? I knew I loved something which I supposed to be God. But then, I might be deceived; that might not be the true God, but a creation of my own fancy. Hence I answered: "If I know what God really is, I love him; but I may be mistaken in his character. Still I love what I suppose to be God," "I will ask you another question, one that I know you can answer. Do you love the people of God?" "Yes, I answered, "I do; and I love them because they are his people, and because I suppose they love God." "Then," said he, "you are a Christian; your sins are pardoned, for the Scripture says, 'we know we have passed from death unto life because we love the brethren.' " "No." I responded; my sins are not pardoned. God has not spoken peace to my soul; he has never told me my sins are pardoned." "Benjamin," said the preacher, "God does not now speak to us audibly, by a voice from heaven, as he used to speak to the people before the cannon of scripture was completed. The written word is to us the same as the spoken word was to the people then." This was a new idea to me, and contrary to what I had been always taught; and I told him I had heard many persons say they had heard God speak to them audibly from heaven," "That is all imagination," said the preacher. "The preachers must believe the people do have such new revelations now; and that God does tell them by a voice directly from heaven, that their sins are forgiven; because they receive them into the Church on the relation of such experiences." What he said to this, I do not now remember; but I recalled that he said, among other things that the word of God is our only source of information now, and that God there addresses us as characters; that he then describes the character of those on whom he will have mercy, those whose sins he will pardon, and that when we are assured of being that character, we are authorized to believe that our sins are pardoned. "I am satisfied," said he, "from what I know of you, and from what you have told me that your sins are pardoned, and that you are a Christian, and that you ought to join the Church and be baptized this very day." I told him I did not believe my sins were pardoned, and that I intended never to join the Church until I had assurance that my sins were remitted.

We had now reached the place of meeting; and just as I was taking my seat in the congregation, and before my companion had entered the pulpit, an elderly minister arose to preach. In the progress of his discourse he detailed the travels of a soul from sin to holiness. He described my experience from the beginning to the point which I had reached, and further. Had I not known that the preacher who went with me had not had an opportunity to say a word to him, and that no other human had heard me detail my religious exercises; I would have supposed the venerable speaker was speaking of me personally, and of my soul-travels. Several were that day immersed; and I stood on the bank alone, observing with deep interest the solemn scene, my eyes suffused with tears. Just as the last one emerged from the stream, I felt a hand laid gently on my shoulder; as I turned to look, my eyes met the tender gaze of a deacon of the church, who asked me affectionately if I did not desire to follow the humble and pious example of those dear young persons who had been just buried with the Lord in baptism? I answered, "I wish I was worthy to do so," and burst into tears. He said soothingly: "Do not be discouraged. I trust the day is not distant when I shall have the happiness of seeing you buried in the liquid grave and rise to walk a new life in Christ Jesus. God bless you, and give you consolation and good hope through grace! I wish you to go home with me," he added. I told him I was compelled to go home that evening, and obtain leave of my parents to return to the meeting on the morrow. "Then," said he, go home with me tomorrow to dinner." I promised him I would ask my parents' consent to do so.

I attended the meeting next day, and went home with the deacon. After dinner he asked me to take a walk with him. We went some distance from the house talking about Jesus and religion. That was the only theme in which I took any delight. After we had gone out of sight and hearing of the house, he proposed, if I had no objection, he would join in prayer. I gladly acceded to his proposition. We knelt, and he led in prayer. I have often thought it was one of the most earnest, heart-felt, importunate prayers I had ever heard. He plead beseechingly in my behalf.

After a long conversation with me, he expressed himself satisfied of my acceptance with God, and requested that I would join the Church that night. I did not promise him that I would do so, but told if, in the course of the meeting, I became satisfied with my state of mind, I would.

Before the meeting some of the ministers conversed with me and expressed themselves fully satisfied with my experience, and urged me to unite with the Church at once, assuring me I had experienced all that they themselves had, or any others known to them. I was still undecided, and so told them. Elder John Rogers preached that night, and "opened the door of the church" for the reception of members. I concluded to go forward, and did, to the joy of many hearts. I was asked to relate my experiences. Many of the members had heard it before—had heard it all—in its details. They so stated to the church. They, therefore, requested me to relate the substance. I did so in about the following language: "Reflecting upon my past life, I became convinced I was a great sinner. I endeavored to give myself to the Lord, and trust I have found him to be my Savior." With this experience the Church was satisfied, and gave me the right hand of fellowship accordingly.

As the meeting closed that night and I had to be at home at work on the farm, my baptism—which was not deemed of much importance anyway—was postponed till the next meeting, to be held a few weeks hence at a stand near old brother Nesbit's about a mile below Carlisle. To that meeting I went, and was immersed by brother William Morrow, in a small stream that heads a short distance above the town. The place where I was buried in baptism is now dry land.

I was now just 17 years old. I had set out for heaven, determined, by God's help to be faithful till death. I had many outward difficulties to encounter. My neighbors generally and my relations all were opposed to my joining the Christian church all except my mother. She would have preferred that I had joined the Baptists to be with her and my young sister. But she was so rejoiced to think I was a christian that she was reconciled. My other relations were Presbyterians. They could hardly endure the Baptists; but the "New Lights," as they called them--they could not tolerate.

The day that I joined the Christian Church my father went to Carlisle to hear Walter Warder, a Baptist, preach. He told him of my mental state, and asked him to come to see me. Next morning brother Warder was there to breakfast. No one present, not even my mother, knew at the time that I had joined the Christian Church the night previous. At the table brother W. requested me to relate my experience. I did so. When I had concluded brother W. said he was satisfied with my experience and believed I had found peace with God; and asked my mother how she felt about it. I looked and saw that my mother was weeping. As well as I remember she answered brother W. question in about in these words: "It appears all well enough except one thing. I cannot understand how Benjamin got through so soon. He was only about four weeks under conviction; and it was seven years before I obtained comfort, and I was all the while earnestly seeking the Lord." Brother Waller told her we had more light now than was enjoyed then; and referred to some cases in Arts, where some found comfort, and were baptized the same day. My mother interposed no further objection. Brother Waller then turned and asked me when it would suit me to be baptized? This led me to inform him that I had united with the Christian Church. He said no more, arose from the table, and soon took his leave.

Besides the difficulties without, I had now to contend those against within. I was naturally volatile, fond of mirth and amusements, and had a passion for dancing. Although I was 14 years old before I was ever at a dancing party or ball, I soon became fond of the amusement. The first time I ever danced, I was solicited to do so by a young lady. I told her I did not know how to dance; did not understand anything about it. She generously (?) offered to become my teacher. I told her they would all laugh at my awkwardness. She promised, and got the company to promise they would not. At length I consented. The set was made up, and she was to be my partner. We walked out upon the floor. The fiddle was tuned, and the bow drawn a time or two over the strings. The music struck up, and our feet and limbs and all began to keep time with the instrument. I soon made a bobble; directly I lost my place; and before we were through I made half a dozen blunders. Some turned away their heads to prevent my seeing them laugh; my partner crammed her handkerchief into her mouth. All were amused except myself. The ice was now broken, and I determined to succeed--to excell those of my own sex who had amused themselves at my expense, and I accomplished my object. Then I would dance to show how much I could beat them.

I had been in the habit of using profane language. This I overcame at once. I was also fond of plays at weddings and parties. To avoid being drawn into these, I went to no gatherings where I supposed they would be indulged in. In order to avoid being drawn into any improprieties, I carefully avoided all had company. Even at religious meetings, instead of associating with the gay and frivolous, I associated with the venerable and pious members of the Church; and would generally engage in singing, or ask questions by which I could gain some useful information. This course I continued to pursue until I lost all-relish for loud laughing, frivolity and amusements. In matters of doubtful propriety, I consulted the old and pious members of the church, and was governed by their judgment.

Some twelve months after I had joined the Church I imagined I was called to preach. I loved sinners and felt an ardent desire for their salvation. As far as I was able at the time to do so, I counted the cost, and felt prepared to make the sacrifice, to perform the toil and to endure the consequences. The idea of becoming a minister of the gospel presented an array of new difficulties, greater and more numerous than I had as yet been called to encounter. First of all, I had an impediment in my speech, and stammered badly, especially when agitated or embarrassed. I had read of Demosthenes and learned how he overcame the impediment in his speech. What the Athenian Orator had accomplished for worldly advantage and renown, I felt could be accomplished for the good of souls and the glory of God. I was, at least willing to make the effort, persuaded that, I could ultimately succeed. Then again, my constitution was frail, and many thought predisposed to pulmonary consumption. This I determined to invigorate by physical discipline, proper exercise and diet. My voice was weak and without volume. This I determined to remedy, and did, by proper instruction and culture.

But I was without sufficient education—did not even understand the Grammar of my own language. Then, again, I was poor. But I was young and could learn, provided another great difficulty was removed. My father's will was law in our family. Could his consent be obtained for me to prepare for ministry in a church with which he had no sympathy? This was to be tested, and I resolved to make the trial. But how was it to be done? In one way only; that was through my mother. Suppose he should consent, what then? How was I to proceed to acquire an education? A thought struck me. I had a brother-in-law, the husband of my eldest sister, with no children, and he a Yankey and an elder in the Presbyterian Church and in good circumstances, and loved education. Maybe he will assist me. Then I had a brother who taught me my letters, and loved education. Both lived in Flemingsburgh, some 16 miles away. My brother might be able to render me some aid. I revolved I would write to them and ascertain what they would do for me, if anything. I wrote. Both answered promptly. My brother would board me, and my brother-in-law would furnish me with books and pay my tuition at a Latin school, taught in Flemingsburgh by Mr. Peter Acres, then a lawyer, and afterwards a Methodist minister. So far, all right. The next thing was to gain my father's consent to let me go. I opened the case to my mother. Told her of my desire to preach, and committed to her good sense and management the affair with my Father. She agreed to undertake the mission, but with little hope of succeeding. But she would try. She tried, and failed. I urged her to try again, and to tell him I did not ask him to pay my tuition or board. She made the second effort, and used her own sweet eloquence to induce him to consent. But he was inexorable. He could not spare me; he needed my labor on the farm. The case seemed settled; and one less determined than myself would have given it up as hopeless. But I was not discouraged; I resolved to make another effort--through my mother. Wearied, out of patience, exasperated at our importunity, and evidently to put a full end to our intreaties and any further annoyance to him, he told my mother to say to me there was one condition, and one only, on which he would consent to give me up, and that was, that, henceforth and forever, I should not have a dollar of his money, nor any of his property, nor any assistance from him in any manner whatever. The question was settled, for he was a man of strong will and fixedness of purpose. From this decision he could not he moved, and my mother knew it. Neither she nor my father had any idea that I would accept his conditions and leave. What could I do? I was young, and poor, uneducated, in rather feeble health, and, more than all, friendless. Neither as yet knew the propositions made me by my brother-in-law and brother. My mother came into the room weeping, and told me my father's decision, and begged me to give up the matter, at least for the present, and wait the openings of Providence. I then told her, smiling, that Providence had already opened the way before me, and that I should walk in it. I told her all, and we rejoiced together. I hastened to my father and accepted his terms, asking him only to let me have a horse to ride to Flemingsburgh. He was astounded at my acceptance of his terms, and asked me how I expected to obtain an education? I told him I would try to do my duty and trust in God for aid. After a short pause, he told me I should have a horse to ride to Flemingsburgh.

Some time prior to this my brother who was with me at the muster, had made a profession of religion and united with the Christian Church. And he and myself, by our father's consent, hold worship in the family.

There was not, perhaps, in all Kentucky, a more harmonious united and happy family than ours. We all loved and were beloved by each other. We were noted for our love of books and music, and were generally good singers. We would spend our winter evenings singing. Mother would sit in one corner knitting, and father in the other listening to the singing of their children, and they would occasionally join in a song with us. But the household is broken; and nearly all have gone to the spirit world. But few of us are on this side of the Jordan, and we shall soon pass over to join those who are gone before, we trust not again to be severed.

Having obtained my father's consent to leave him, my mother and sister set about fixing; up my clothes ready for me to go.

In a few days I was pleasantly situated as an inmate of my brother's family. My brother-in-law, having procured for me books, as directed by my future teacher, took me down to the school-room, and introduced me to Mr. Acres, who, at once put me to memorizing the Latin Grammar. In due time I recited my first lesson; and the older pupils were no little amused at my pronunciation of the words Nominative, Genative,{Genitive} Dative, Accusative, etc. My teacher bit his lips to avoid laughing outright. My queer pronunciation had quite upset his gravity. After looking for a moment disapprovingly at his other pupils for laughing at my awkwardness and uncouth pronunciation, he composed himself somewhat, and observed: "We are accustomed here to pronounce these words thus"; and proceeded through the list of cases to pronounce each one correctly and distinctly. I was no little mortified at first, but soon recovered from my embarrassment. That one correction was sufficient; I never made the same blunder again.

I was progressing finely in my studies, overtaking class after class that had been in advance of me until some time in the next year some time before the Presbytery was to meet in Flemingsburg. My brother, who was not a professor of any religion, hinted to me one day that it might be to any advantage to join the Presbyterians, intimating that it might contribute to my obtaining an education. But as I did not entertain the proposition for a single instant, but rather gave him to understand distinctly that I could not conscientiously do so; he dropped the subject, and never said any thing more to me about it. A few days afterwards, however, my mother's brother, Uncle N. P. Foster, an elder in the Presbyterian church, broached the subject to me, and labored hard and long to convince me that it would greatly promote my interests, and was, therefore my duty to join the Presbyterian Church and also the Presbytery when it should meet there. I chose, however, to be governed by principle and let interest take care of itself. The time came for the Presbytery to meet. My brother-in-law authorized my sister, as she informed me, to say to me, if I would join the Presbytery, and become a candidate for the ministry, he would send me to Princeton College, N.J. and pay all my expenses there until I graduated in both the Literary and Theological Departments. I was anxious for an education, not, however, to preach Presbyterianism, which I did not believe, but to preach what I understood at that time to be the Gospel. I could not sacrifice principle to policy. Nor could I do such violence to my conscience for worldly honor and renown.

Men of policy rather than principle suggested to we that I might acquire the education, and then leave the Presbyterian Church. But to this course I had serious objections—insurmountable difficulties. 1. I could not do it, I told them and he an honest man. None but an arrant hypocrite could be guilty of such duplicity. I could not do it and be an honest man; of course, I could not be a Christian. 2. I could not do it and be a truthful man. None but a base, unscrupulous liar could pretend to what he was not. I would have to avow my belief in the doctrines of Con. of Faith, and at the same time not believe them. 3. It would have been wrong to deceive my brother-in-law, and obtain his money under false pretences. These were a few of the many reasons I gave for not acting so basely. I resolved I would not do it if I never acquired an education. When I made profession of religion, I promised, among other things, to be an honest, honorable, and truthful man. Besides, I knew that the way to avoid doing wrong was to keep out of temptation. Had I joined the Presbyterians, where would I have been today? Not a preacher of the gospel, certainly. I would rather be right, however obscure, than to be the Pope of Rome. I would rather be the humblest member of the Church of Christ than to occupy the loftiest position on earth in any other society.

When my brother-in-law learned from my sister that there was no hope of my becoming a Presbyterian, he directed her to inform me—I use the very words she told me he employed—that he could not place a club in my hands for me to beat his brains out. That is, he would not educate me to oppose Presbyterianism. This was certainly taking a practical or business-like view of the matter. His original agreement, however, with my brother was that he would furnish me books and pay my tuition; and this was not to be done on condition that I would join the Presbyterians. This was an after-thought, or, at least, an after-suggestion.

Being, perhaps, somewhat sensitive anyhow, especially in my destitute and dependent situation, I began to feel that my condition was an unpleasant one. What should I do? My tuition for the full session had been paid; so that my continuing at school the whole term could make no pecuniary difference with him. Should I continue? While revolving this question in my mind—while I had it under consideration—other circumstances occurred which made it necessary to come to an immediate decision; among which I mention the following:

My clothes furnished by my dear old mother, were becoming thread-bear; I had no money. What was I to do? To remain at school appeared next to impossible. But what should I do? What could I do, if I left? Where could I go? I could not return to my father's. I was not qualified to teach school even. I was without a home, without money, and without friends;

I had set out under the impression that I was called to preach; but it was my duty to qualify myself for the work. God does nothing for man that man can do for himself. Like the Israelites at the Red Sea, I had gone as far as the way seemed opened before me. What could I do more but to wait and watch the indications of providence, As I said to my father, I meant to trust God; and, like Job, I intended still to trust him; though he should slay me. I thought of Abraham whose trust in God's promise led him to forsake his father's house, and his native land; and God provided for him. Every man's faith needs to be tested, and now was the time to try mine. It was a severe trial for one of my age and experience. My way seemed to be hedged up. All around was dark and gloomy. All I could do was to wait and watch.

My relations all, save my mother, were opposed to my course. They were not willing for me to be a preacher. They did not think I could succeed, and they were, moreover, hostile to my sentiments. Hence, those who were able, would render me no assistance. Even my mother expressed doubts, whether I would ever make a preacher. Still she would have assisted me, but that my father had forbidden her to do so. My brethren gave me no encouragement and afforded me no assistance. They did not support the aged, talented and useful ministers. Of course they would not assist me.

In this condition of affairs, I waited, and prayed, and watched the indications of Providence. About this time a Christian preacher of the name of Harrison Osburn, a young and popular minister, sent an appointment to preach in the court-house in Flemingsburg. I went to the meeting and introduced myself to him. He seemed glad to make my acquaintance, and invited me to call at his stopping place the next morning. I did so. He had heard of me, and something of my trials. He told me if I was called to preach, I ought to be at the work. He advised me to quit school and travel with him around his circuit through Fleming, Lewis, Mason and Bracken Counties. I told him I had no horse. He proposed to procure one for me, if I would go with him. I agreed to do so. He borrowed a horse for me to ride of a brother Richard Hart of Fleming County. I borrowed an outfit of my brother, and we set out. Brother Osburn's first appointment was in the country, some 8 or 10 miles from Flemingsburg.

I had been for some time in the habit of praying in public, indeed, almost from the time I joined the church. I was considered a good singer, and delighted in music, and was frequently called on to lead the singing in the congregation. I was familiar with most of the airs sung in those days, and knew most of the hymns by memory, and could learn a tune or hymn by hearing it sung a few times. After singing a few songs, brother O. requested me to open meeting with prayer. I did so. He then asked me to speak to the people. This I had never attempted to do, and asked him to excuse me at that time, promising that I would do so at the next appointment. I wanted time for reflection and to prepare some thing to say; but he would not let me off, telling me as I had to make a beginning. I might as well do it then as any other time. I accordingly made to effort, and a poor effort it was! In less than five minutes my resources were exhausted. I could think of nothing to say. I became embarrassed I stammered. The young people smiled and tittered. This increased my confusion, and caused me to stutter worse than ever. In this state of confusion, I sat down, deeply mortified, but not discouraged. Brother O. arose and, as I thought, delivered a fine discourse.

After dinner we started on to his next appointment. We were scarcely in our saddles when brother O. said he was anxious to hear me speak that he might decide whether I was called to preach. He said he was convinced I had mistaken my calling; that he did not believe I would ever succeed as a preacher; that my stammering would always prevent my being a public speaker of any kind; and that he did not think I could ever make myself useful as a minister; and advised me to return home and rescind the bargain I had made with my father, and ask him to take me back as a farmboy; that he thought I could succeed better as a farmer than at any thing else; and much more he said to the same effect—all calculated to discourage and drive from the field almost any other young man. But it did not have this effect upon me. I related to him my first and several succeeding efforts in the ballroom, and of the final result. This made him laugh outright. He said there was quite a difference between one's heels and his head; that it did not require much sense to learn how to dance; that some of the most expert dancers he ever knew did not have sense enough to fit a dress, to cut a coat—(he had himself been a tailor) or scarcely (sense) to knit a pair of stockings; but that it required brains to make a preacher! All this I admitted might be true, but it did not follow that I would not make a preacher. I told him he might drive me away from him, if he did not wish me to go, but that He could not keep me from trying to preach. I informed him that I had not yet had a fair trial, and that it would be shameful, if nothing worse, to give up such a cause upon such an experiment; and that I never intended to abandon the work, involving consequences so momentous, without a fair trial. Seeing I was resolute and determined, and that I was not to be moved by his judgment, formed prematurely, he advised me to continue with him around the circuit. Before the month was out, he changed his opinion somewhat, revised his decision and reversed his former judgment.

It was my practice to pray morning and evening in secret. I would retire early in the morning to some secret place to pray, and would then read my Bible till about breakfast time. My clothes were now threadbear and thin. I was near Minerva in Bracken County, Kentucky. I had on cotton pantaloons, the last gift of my mother. At early dawn I went out to pray. When I knelt down, my pantaloons split open on the knee. I had no others. What was I to do? I had an appointment to preach that day. I must meet it. I returned to the house, and too diffident to ask any one to mend the rent, I got a needle and thread and sewed it up, and went on to my meeting.

The coming winter I spent in Fleming and Mason Counties, speaking on Lord's days and reading through the week. Early in the spring I made a visit to Servise County, {Ohio} and spoke at Canbincreek. A brother then took me to one side and after looking all around to satisfy himself that no one saw him, while bidding me farewell, slipped 25 cents into in hand. This he did that the scripture might he fulfilled. ''Let not your left hand know what your right hand doeth." Until then I did not have one cent of money. I was enabled to pay my ferriage across the Ohio river; and I was anxious to get over to attend a meeting in Highland County, Ohio.

On walking out into the woods one day some distance from the meeting place, I noticed a great many tracks of barefeet. For some, time I could not understand this, as all, as far as I could see, had on shoes at the meeting. But one day I happened to see some ladies, going from the meeting, some distance from the place, pulling off their shoes and stockings. The mystery was explained. They would walk from home barefooted, carrying their shoes and stockings in their hands until they got near the meeting place, then they would put them on; and take them off at the same place returning from the meeting.

From Highland, I went to Minerva, Kentucky. I gave the ferryman my hymn book to cross me over the river. At Minerva I met brother John Rogers on his way to a meeting in Ohio. He requested me to accompany him. I told him I had no money to pay my ferriage. He proposed to pay it for me. The first night we stayed with Matthew Gardner, publisher of a hymnbook. On brother R's telling him I had none, and why; he, in the exuberance of his charity, proposed to make me a present of one on condition that I would sell a dozen copies for him without charge. The bargain was soon struck. He gave me the book; I took a dozen which I sold, and on my {way} back, paid him the money.

Travelling on one day through Ohio, I fell behind brother Rogers, and became absorbed in meditation. I thought of my trials; the difficulties I lead to contend with; my discouragements; the fact that not a brother had ever spoken to me a word of encouragement or comfort; my utter destitution of resources; the rusty and ragged condition of my clothes; the fact that, though worse dressed than any preacher, many called me proud—said I was too proud for a preacher. Providence, it seemed, had hedged up my way. What was to become of me? What could I do? For the first time in my life, I almost despaired of ever making a preacher. In this state of mind, I rode up to the side of brother Rogers and told him I was fearful I would not succeed; and enumerated my difficulties. By way of comfort(?) he replied that he did not think I would ever make much of a preacher, but that, as brother K once told a desponding brother, some one must be the poorest preacher, and I might as well be that one as any body else. This waked me up, nerved me, touched my pride, excited my ambition, gave me resolution to suffer any thing, to endure every thing for the time being, to brave everything. I felt as I had never felt before; I was aroused as I had never before been aroused to dare and do. I straightened myself in my saddle. I erected my head; I lifted up my right hand, and said: Brother Rogers, from this moment I resolve to make a preacher, or to die trying!" The Rubicon was passed. The great struggle was over: the clouds dispersed. Hope took wing. I determined to succeed. And having formed the resolution, "Richard was himself again." From that day to this, I have never been discouraged. Opposition gives me resolution. My motto is: "Hope on; hope ever." Don't give up the ship. My opinion is, with my example before me, that a man can accomplish almost any thing he determines to do; and a young man, without an education, without a dollar, and without friend, but with ordinary capacity and a tolerable constitution, can make of himself almost any thing that he resolves to be, by energy and perseverance. And one such who has not the nerve to undertake it of himself, deserves no assistance, and would be of no account, if assisted. I like to see one resolve to be a man.

While in Ohio, I would retire to the woods to pray and preach to the trees and brushes. My auditors kept very quiet; they were not restless; they did not grow weary of hearing me; nor did they smile at my ignorance, or laugh at my stammering. Speaking aloud in the dense forests, I learned to modulate my voice and to speak without stammering. I was at first a rapid speaker. Many words I could not pronounce without pausing an instant before speaking them. When I hurried on rapidly, I always stammered at these words and stumbled over them. By this training I became a deliberate speaker, and was able to articulate distinctly.

I neglected to mention in the proper place that the Conference at its meeting this year gave me license to preach, as the Conference of the preceding year had given me authority to exhort.

In the fall, I returned to Kentucky and early in the winter I went to Crawford County, In., on a visit to my oldest brother, Cornelius. Among other plans, I visited Bloomington, then in the woods; and Indianapolis, where the timber had been felled and was still lying on the ground. A few log cabins with mud chimnies, constituted the town.

While living with my father I had bought a colt which was now grown. This I rode to Ind. and near Indianapolis traded it off for a lot in the contemplated town. Early in the spring, just before the ice broke up, I started a foot for Kentucky, carrying my overcoat and saddlebags. For a few days, I got along tolerable well, but my boots were soon torn to pieces on the rough frozen ground. This made it bad to travel. But the worst was yet to come. The weather moderated; it rained, and the snow and the ice began to melt. I had to wade through mud. I crossed rivers and creeks on the brittle ice while the water, once in particular, was six inches over the ice. At length I reached the Ohio river, at the North bend, near where General Harrison then lived. The ice was running in the river at a terrible rate. The ferry man refused to cross me over unless I would pay him, I think it was $5.00. I agreed to give it, although I had not a dollar left. With much difficulty, and after encountering great danger, I was safely landed on the Kentucky shore. It was about the middle of the afternoon. After walking several miles, I asked to stay all night at a good-looking house, but was refused because I had told them I was out of money, or nearly so. I went on to the next house and told the same sad story. I received a hearty welcome; they gave me a good, warm supper—the first I had eaten since morning. During the evening I learned that they were members of the Christian Church. I showed them my license to preach. Next morning the brother directed me where I could stay all night with a brother. I reached the place, told the same tale, and was invited in with tons of welcome. I told who I was. They were glad to see me; said I must stay the next day and preach at night. The brother said if I would do so, he would have my boots mended. I stayed, of course and preached. The next day I reached the house of a brother I had before known in Harrison. I had acquaintances then all the way to my father's.

On reaching home, I learned there was a Conference soon to be held in Bath County, on big flat creek, I think was the name of the stream. The weather was now comfortable but the roads were muddy. When the time for the meeting arrived, I expressed a determination to attend it; but I had no horse to ride. My father, however, had a number—more than he needed for immediate use. I asked him for the loan of one to ride to the meeting, and told him I would return early the next week. But he refused to let we have a horse, telling me I had better go to work and make an honest living instead of running over the country living on other people. I resolved to go, nevertheless. Accordingly the next morning I threw my saddlebags across my shoulder, rolled up my pantaloons and plunged out in the mud. I got along pretty well in my mended boots.

A good many preachers were at the meeting. I participated in singing and public prayer, but was not asked to preach. On Monday the Conference met in secret session—I, at least, was not asked to be present. I was at the stand engaged with others in singing and praying. Just before the preaching was to begin, an old preacher, John Mavity, took me aside and requested me to go home with him to the upper end of Montgomery County, and preach to his neighbors. This to me was a strange event. I had seldom been asked to preach before then, and never by an old and popular preacher. I told him I had no horse. He informed me he had an extra horse and saddle which I could ride. But how was I to get back? He proposed to furnish me a horse to ride home. Taking this as an opening of providence, I accepted the invitation. An appointment was sent up in advance. The next evening I preached at a private house to a fine audience. For the first time in my life, my tongue was loosed; words flowed in a regular and continuous stream; my ideas were better than I had ever had; my feelings became excited, and, here and there, one was beginning to weep. Soon the house was in tears, the speaker with the rest. Gradually my voice mellowed. The effect was electrical; the excitement was intense. Brother Mavity sprang to his feet, and rushing towards me, threw his arms about my neck, and amid tears and sobs, said: ''Go on, brother Hall. You are called to preach. Give yourself wholly to the work, and God will crown your labors with success!” When he had concluded, I resumed my discourse, under great excitement. He interrupted me again, telling me to call for mourners. I did so instantly; and they rushed forward in great numbers. We prayed for them, and concluded the exercises with a song.

On our way to brother Mavity's after the meeting that night, he revealed to me the mystery about his inviting me home with him. He told me that, on Monday the Conference met in secret session on my case. I had been licensed to preach. Many of the preachers did not think I was called to preach, and the question was about taking from me my license. He told the Conference he had never heard me, and was not prepared to vote on the question; but if they would postpone the case till the next meeting of Conference, so as to give him an opportunity to hear me, he would be prepared to vote on the question of withdrawing from me license to preach. This was the last I ever heard about taking away my preaching license.

Brother Mavity was about to start to Indiana on a tour of preaching; and, now that he was satisfied I was called to the work of the ministry, he was anxious for me to accompany him. I was very willing to go, but had not horse to ride. Brother M. had promised to furnish me a horse to go to my father’s. If I remember, his son came that far with us and took the horse back. On reaching my father’s we found him inclined to aid me in procuring a horse. I purchased one from one of the neighbors on time at low figures. I gave my note for the money with my father as security. I paid the note when due with the proceeds of the horse I had sold at Indianapolis.

We held several successful meetings in Indiana. I preached almost every day, and, apparently, to the satisfaction of people generally, and to the delight of brother Mavity. I feel greatly indebted to the venerable brother. He was a sensible and good man, and took especial aim to give me all the instruction in his power. He was useful in his day, but has long since gone to his reward. He had, and yet has, some sons engaged in preaching the word.

Having fulfilled our mission in Indiana, we returned, late in autumn to Kentucky. I spent the winter reading the Scriptures and preaching on Lord’s Days.

Late in the winter, I received a letter from the venerable B.W. Stone, then living at Georgetown, Kentucky informing me that the brethren in the upper Green river country desired him to send them a young preacher to ride that season with brother Isaac Mayfield in that county. Several had been solicited to go, but declined. I seemed to be the only chance. I consented to go. Accordingly early in the spring I set out for that wide field of labor. I went by way of Georgetown, and, receiving from father Stone letters of introduction and recommendation, and his parting blessing, I pursued on my journey. After some five or six days travel through the mud, and over hills and along hollows, I arrived, safely at the house of brother John Jones on the East fork of Green river. Here I received a hearty greeting and a cordial welcome. Brother Stone had advised them of my coming; hence they were expecting me. A circuit had been formed embracing the Counties of Casey, Adair, Russell (it is now), Wayne, Pulaski and Lincoln. Some parts of the above Counties were rich but broken, but the most of the country is poor.

After preaching at Purgamus near brother Jones’, brother Mayfield and I started around our big circuit. We were to complete the circuit once in every month. To accomplish this, we had to travel hard, and preach only a few times at one place. We had but one rest-day in the month, and that was at brother Jones! We had but few clothes, and these we scattered around the circuit so as to have clean garments to put on about once a week. Altogether some of that circuit embraced some of the roughest country and people I have even seen, and I have seen a good many of both. We had to encounter extreme poverty, ignorance, filth, ticks and bed-bugs, and other vermin. We had to lodge on boards, shucks, straw, and, which on many accounts, the best of all, on the floor. Our diet was at some places the poorest, the most meager, and the worst prepared that l had ever seen. At other places it was good. One night, in one of the most out-of-the-way places I had ever seen, I selected as my theme the words: "Go into the high ways and hedges, and compell{sic} them to come in." Brother Mayfield remarked afterwards that he thought the subject quite appropriate.

During that season quite a number were converted and immersed into the Christian Church. l, of course, received almost no compensation for my labors.

Early in the fall I was taken sick of fever, and was confined at brother Jones' several weeks before I was able to travel. Wishing to go to school that winter, I traded off a good horse for an inferior one for the sake of the "boot" with which I wished to pay for my tuition. Soon as I was able to travel, I started with my pony and my money for home. Then I learned there was an excellent school taught in Carliste {Carlisle}, by one Mr. McCabe, a graduate of Washington College, PA. I went down to see what arrangements I could make if any, about going a session to that institution. Brother John Rogers was then married and living there. I told him my desire and my means. He took the matter in hand and soon made arrangements with the brethren to board one week about for one term. So I procured books, principally of the Teacher, paid for my tuition in advance, and set in to school. During the session I studied English Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, and Algebra, and commenced the Greek. When my time and money were exhausted, I quit the school and the place, feeling under many obligations to the brethren, especially Brother Rogers, and also to my gentlemanly and accomplished teacher; and being solicited to labor that season in Middle Tennessee, I started for that field of labor. At a brother Carnohan's in Rutherford County I met with the pious and intelligent and amicable brother Abner Hill, and two young men just starting out to preach—Levi Nichols and William D. Jourdan. They had made their debut with brother Hill. Brother Jourdan was somewhat older than l. He had been a school teacher, and was a very good English scholar. He was a man of fine memory, quick perception, and ready utterance, somewhat pugnacious, but not very hopeful, and was occasionally seized with fits of hypercondria, he was, nevertheless, a companionable man, and zealous for what he believed to be the truth.

Our circuit embraced a part of Wilson, Rutherford, and Smith Counties, and what is now Cannon. We did a great deal of preaching in that country during the time we travelled on that circuit, and saw many turn to the Lord.

Brother Jourdan was a great student of the Bible. We were mutual aids to each other, and each stimulated the other to the study of the Scriptures. We read the Bible to the exclusion of almost all other books. Hence we became quite conversant with it, and loved it far more than all other writings. We also memorized large portions of the Scriptures, and knew where to find almost any passage that might be called for.

All around that circuit, I was called "the proud preacher", and brother Jourdan was known by the appellation of the "fighting preacher," on account of his supposed love of controversy.

I spent a part of two seasons traveling and preaching, having at different times for my companion, besides brother Jourdan, P. E. Harris and W. D. Cains {Carnes}. This was the time of his first setting out to preach. Asbury Stone also traveled with me a few months, just beginning to preach.

Beside our daily preaching, galloping around the circuit, we attended many camp-meetings during the two autumns we spent in middle Tennessee. We preached a great deal in the open air. We were very zealous, and frequently spoke at the top of our voice, and sometimes screaming at such a rate as almost to split our throat. We substituted sound for sense, indeed, figuratively speaking, we supposed that the power was in the thunder instead of the lightning; hence we thundered more than we lightened or enlightened, for, in truth, we had not much light to emit.

We differed very little in those days from the Sects in our views of spiritual influence, getting religion, the evidence of remission, and kindred subjects. Hence we practiced the mourners' bench or anxious-seat system throughout. Our views on these and other subjects were dark and confused, nor can it be expected that it could have been otherwise, considering the gross darkness that covered the land. In many things, however, we were, even then, greatly in advance of the Sects.

The Old Christian brethren, with Elder B. W. Stone in the lead, about the beginning of the present century, introduced a great reformation. They started right. They resolved to take the Bible and the Bible alone for their creed, and resolved to follow wherever it lead them, giving all human creeds and Confessions of Faith, to the mobs and bats. It is not to be supposed they could reach the ultimatum of the teachings of the Bible at a single bound. From the position they had assumed, they were prepared, however, to abandon error when they discovered it by the Scriptures to be such, and to embrace the volume. The taking the holy scriptures for their only guide, was a grand achievement, and could not but lead to important results. They thus pledged themselves to believe all the Bible says, and to practice as they discovered it whatever it commands; and, as a consequence, to repudiate and abandon, as any part of their theory and practice, all not taught in the Scriptures, either in express words or necessary inference. Taking the word of God alone as their rule of faith and practice, implied, as they understood it; required, either a plain "Thus saith the Lord" or inspired example. Hence, whatever might be taught and practiced by others not included in the above rule of their faith and practice, they very properly rejected as making any part of Christianity.

It is scarcely to be presumed, however, that they should have avoided falling into some errors; for, starting as they did, post-haste out of Bablyon, they were in danger of running past Jerusalem. They, however, did better than might have been expected.

Thrown, as I Providentially was; on the borders of "our Zion," with no one to direct my studies and investigations of the Word of God, and no books to read, and ardently in search of truth, and surrounded by opponents, and my teachings publicly and privately tracked; I was driven to the necessity of searching the Scriptures de nova, for myself, and of depending on my own resources.

I was naturally skeptical, so far at least, as to take nothing upon trust—to accept no proposition without what I conceived to be adequate evidence of its truth. Hence, I was frequently led to question some of the teachings of my own brethren as well as those of the Sects. Consequently, I was often charged with bringing strange things to the peoples' ears—with introducing new-fangled notions. I had made the discovery that we were not under Moses, but under Christ—not under the law, but under the dispensation of the Gospel. This discovery led me to inquire into the difference between the two economies, and to draw the contrast between the law and the gospel—between the law of Moses and the law of liberty. I had studied this subject for a long time, and had digested and arranged my thoughts so as to mark distinctly the points of contrast between the two. On Saturday morning, at a Camp meeting on Globe creek, I delivered a long discourse on the points of difference between the law of Moses and the gospel of Christ. A number of preachers were present. They generally rejected the views presented. At the head of the list of opposes {opposers} was brother Jourdan. After dinner, I was invited into the preachers' tent and called to account for my heresay {heresy?}. I defended my positions as well as I was able. Some were very severe in their expressions of censure. A brother Robert Randolph, a modest, sensible and good man had as yet said nothing. He was asked his opinion of my sermon. He modestly answered, that, he thought I had preached a great deal more truth than error. On being further interrogated, he said he had never heard the ideas advanced before, but that I had convinced him of the truth of every thing I had advanced except one. He was requested to state that one thing. He replied: "Brother Hall said he was, he presumed, as anxious as any one to have the good opinion of his brethren, and to avoid giving offense to any. “In this," said he, "I think he is mistaken; for I believe he would preach what he believes to be the truth even if he knew it would cause every friend he has on earth to forsake him." This created a laugh, which closed the discussion.

At the close of the meeting, I parted with most of the preachers, Brother Jourdan returned to his field of labor; and the next I heard of him, he was preaching the abolition of the law of Moses.

After the Globe creek meeting, I went further south to attend some camp meetings in North Alabama: one in Gandies' cove, in Morgan County; another in Honey Comb valley, and another at McNutty town in Madison County. As my resources were about exhausted and my clothes well worn; and as I had received but little if any remuneration for my labors; I taught a three-months school in the winter, and occupied my leisure time studying medicine.

An incident occurred in Alabama, which I will here relate. I, at a meeting above Miridianville, delivered a discourse on the design of baptism and invited persons to confess the Lord. One young lady came forward, and desired to be immersed forthwith. Her mother was dead. Her father, had been a Baptist preacher, but had become an apostate and a wicked man. As we were yet talking about the best place to immense in a stream nearby, the old man came up to me, and shaking a large hickory cane in my face, told me I must not baptize his daughter. I inquired: "Why not?" He answered huffishly: “That is none of your business; but"—shaking his cane again at me, his eyes looking daggers—"you had better not attempt to baptize her''—and his large frame shook with rage. Turning to the young lady, who sat weeping, I asked her if she still desired to be baptized? She said she did. "Then I will baptize you at all hazzards." I said, and, turning to the audience, designated the place where we would administer the rite. The old man, turning to his daughter, said: "If you are baptized, you shall never enter my house again while you live." The poor girl, looking up at me through her tears, said: "I want to be baptized." An old brother Griffin, a man well to do in the world, who stood near by, walked up to the agonized girl, and said: "My daughter, you shall have a home at my house." We repaired to the water, and I baptized her, the, old man offering no resistance. The young lady got into mister Griffin's carriage, and went home with her. A few days afterwards, her father sent for her to return home. She sent him word she would not go then; but if he would bring a horse and saddle the next Friday, and take her down to a meeting to be held at McNuttytown, she would go home with him after the close of the meeting.

Accordingly, on the day designated the old gentleman rode up to brother Griffin's, leading a horse with a lady's saddle. The young lady was soon in the saddle, and she and her father were on their way to the meeting.

The next day I preached and gave the usual invitation to penitent believers to confess the Lord. The old gentleman who was sitting directly in front of the stand, arose instantly and came forward weeping, holding the same big cane in his hand. His daughter sprang to her feet, and uttering an exclamation of joy, rushed forward, and threw her arms around her father's neck and sunk down upon her knees by his side! It was a touching scene to see the father and his motherless daughter clasped in each other's arms weeping—the one shedding tears of bitter grief and penitence; the other tears of joy.

Had not the young lady resolutely obeyed the Lord, brooking the bitter opposition of her wicked father, both would doubtless have gone to perdition together; but now, hand in hand, they were treading the pilgrims pathway to the city and home of God. It is always right for one to do his duty—to obey God. In such cases, all results well.

The religion of those days consisted principally of feeling; and those who shouted the loudest and made the greatest ado, were looked upon as the best Christians. Hence our preaching, our prayers, and songs we adapted to excite the emotions. We would clap and rub our hands, stamp with our feet, slain down and tear up the Bible, speak as loud as possible and scream at the top of our voice, to get up an excitement. I often blistered my hands by clapping and rubbing them together; and my feet were made sore by repeated stamping. My voice was clear, and its tones silvery. I could sing for hours without being tired or becoming hoarse. I was excitable, and dealt much in the pathetic. I was considered good at exhortation. Death, the judgment, heaven and hell, were my favorite themes. Here fancy had ample room for play; and on such themes the feelings of the masses could be reached. Knowing my forte, the brethren were want to have me to bring up the rear on occasions when an excitement was desired. I frequently spoke when, on account of the loud shouting of christians, and the screams of sinners, I could scarcely hear my own voice. Then was the time, after a short pause to call for mourners, and it was seldom they failed to come. I have known them to come in such numbers and crowd so closely around me as I stood before the stand, in the midst of the audience, that, when we were about to pray for them, I had not room to kneel down. Sometimes the excitement would be so great—so many brethren all praying aloud at once, and mourners screaming and begging for mercy, that no single voice could be distinguished from the rest. I have spent whole nights singing, praying and trying to instruct weeping, broken-hearted sinners how to "get religion," and, now and then rejoicing with one who had Just "got through".

At one camp-meeting in Middle Tennessee in the fall of 1825, there were upwards of fifty, who, during the meeting, came forward to be prayed for. I was greatly interested in their behalf. I was up with them the whole night. Some "professed religion" but many did not. The meeting closed with the greater number of them uncomforted. A brother James G. Green proposed that a song be sung, and the brethren and sisters first, and then the mourners, such as were resolved to strive to meet us in heaven, be invited to take leave of the preachers. We all stood in a row before the stand, and a long line of saints gave us the parting hand. Then came the mourners, weeping as if their hearts would break, and reached us their hand. It was too much for me to endure. I cried aloud, and wept like a child. My sympathies had overcome me.

Going on from that meeting to another, I began to reflect upon the scene I had witnessed. I asked myself why it was those dear people did not receive pardon? They appeared to be sincere and in good earnest. They seemed to be deeply penitent. They wept and prayed and begged for mercy. They mourned; and why were they not comforted? God is certainly willing to pardon them, and to do it now. They earnestly desire pardon: True, they have sinned. They know and confess this. They are sorry they have sinned. And they have promised to the Lord, if he will only forgive the past, they will strive to do better in the future. Why, then, does not God in mercy forgive them? Maybe, after all, I said mentally, our preaching may be at fault. Can it be that the wrong is in us? I then thought of the Apostles, their preaching, and the result. Some of sin-convinced, conscious-smitten hearers went away from hearing them, uncomforted. Still, strange to say, I could not perceive where the mistake was; wherein our preaching and practice differed from that of the apostles—in what consisted the difference.

A year before this, one day after I had called up mourners and prayed that God would pardon their sins, a brother, a private member of the church had asked me for my authority for calling persons forward to the anxious seat, and praying that God would then and there pardon their sins? I answered: "The Bible is my authority for this practice." "What part of the Bible?" he inquired, "The whole of it." I answered. "I would like to see the plan," said he. I told him to read the Bible, and he would find it, He answered, he had done so very carefully, and had not been able to find any authority for the practice. "But," said he, "I find authority for baptizing penitents for remission of sins; but none for praying for their pardon before they are baptized," Much more was said on this subject by both of us—by him on the one side, and by myself on the other. But what he said made but little impression on my memory. Years elapsed; and I one day, in 1832, met this same brother in Memphis, and he reminded me of the interview. I was then fully committed to the teaching of baptism for remission of sins.

During the fall of 1825 and the winter of '25,6, I was perplexed and troubled about our preaching and the results; but for the life of me I could not find out where the mistake lay, I became convinced there was a great wrong somewhere, but could not find where it was, or wherein it consisted. In this state of perplexity I started for Kentucky in the spring of 1826. On my way I stopped at the house of a brother Gess on Line creek, on the line between Tennessee and Kentucky. It was late in the afternoon, and I was fatigued, having travelled hard all day. Brother Gess took my horse and I walked into the house. Sister Gess had gone to see a sick neighbor. No one was in the house when I entered. Before taking my seat, I looked around for a book. My eye caught sight of a little bookcase in one corner of the house. I rose and walked up to it. My eye soon rested upon a book with "Debate on Baptism," printed on the back. I found it to be the debate between A. Campbell and William MaCalla. I had heard it was published, but had never seen it till then. I knew I would not have time to read it then, and began to turn over the leaves. Mr. Campbell's speech, in which he introduced the "design of baptism," arrested my notice. I began to read it with fixed attention. The interest deepened as I proceeded. The light began to dawn, nay, it flashed upon my mind; and ere I had concluded the argument, I was a full convert to the teaching of baptism for remission of sins. I sprang to my feet in an ecstacy and cried out, "Eureka! Eureka!" "I have found it; I have found it. And I had found it. I had found the key-stone in the gospel arch, which had been set aside and ignored by the builders. I had found the long-lost link in the chain of gospel obedience. I was converted anew—thoroughly, and as I believe, soundly converted. I was happy, transported with joy; happier than when I was first converted, and my conversion was more sudden, and more satisfactory. I saw now the evidence of remission, which I had never seen before. When brother Gess came in, I took him by the hand, and told him I was converted over, and explained to him all about (it). Soon Sister Gess returned and I told her about my conversion. I loved to tell it, I felt so happy; and I yet love to tell it. Had I not found this grand truth, I should have died unhappy; my sun would have gone down under, a cloud, a dire dark cloud. I would have died disappointed in my faith, and hope, and expectation of the power of the gospel of Christ. Now I can understand it, see it, feel it all, and with confidence, preach it as God's power to save all who believe it.

Next morning I resumed my journey a new man, and happier than I had ever been before. I now had a message to every body, the gospel-message—the whole gospel. O how sweet, how precious it "the glorious gospel of the blessed God!” It is sweeter than honey in the honeycomb. I prize it above rubies. It is more precious than gold, yea, than fine gold. Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift!

Two days travel brought me to a brother Luper's. I told him all about my new discovery. In two days more I was at brother John Jones. His son, S. E. Jones was then quite a young man and a member of the church. With him I had a long conversation on baptism for remission of sins. He rejected it at first, and told me I was frequently making discoveries that no one else had ever heard of, and preaching new-fangled notions calculated to disturb the minds of brethren, and administered a prudent caution to me not to be carried away by heresay, but finally, he agreed to give the subject an investigation. The next time I heard of him, he was a preacher of the ancient gospel.

A few days further travel brought me to my brother Levi Hall's, some eight miles from my father's. My brother had married a second wife during my absence. I had never known her, but found her to be a noble woman. She was brought up a Baptist of the strictest sort. She had often tried to "get religion"; had been frequently at the "anxious seat," but could never "get through." She was piously inclined, and desired to be a Christian. She concluded to go with me to my father's. On the way I preached to her the gospel. She received it, and requested me to make an appointment at their house a few days thereafter, and baptise her. I did so; and as she came up out of the water, she clasped her hands together, and said; "Thank the Lord!" This pleased me greatly. It was the first time I had immersed any one for remission of sins, and I was delighted that she experienced such joy. It increased my confidence in the truth.

It was now about a year since I had been ordained at a Conference at Old Union, in Fayette County, Kentucky by brother B, W. Stone and others, by recommendation of the churches in Tennessee and Alabama. Brother T. M. Allen of Missouri was ordained at the same time. The intervening years I had spent preaching in Southern Kentucky, Middle Tennessee and Northern Alabama, and baptized quite a number of persons. I had also taken a young man of the name of Mansel W. Matthews to travel with me. His venerable father gave him to me saying: "Take Mansel and make a preacher of him, if you can; and if you cannot, send him back home to me." He became a useful, popular and influential preacher; but has removed about so much that he has "wasted his fragrance on the desert air."

In the summer of 1826 I visited Georgetown, and conversed with father Stone resputing baptism for remission of sins. He said it would not do; that he had introduced it early in the present century, that it was like throwing ice water on the people; that it froze all their warmth out, and came well nigh driving vital religion out of the country, and would have done it, if he had not resisted from preaching it. He said he had preached it at different places and to different congregations, and that the same results followed. Finally he abandoned it altogether, I asked him why he had preached it at all? He answered, because he found it in the Scriptures, he was an old man, a father in the ministry, and the reputed founder of the Christian Church. He was a preacher before I was born—many years before, and was in his prime, and in the midst of his usefulness, and in the midst of the great revival in 1803, the year I was born, I could not find it in my heart to argue the question with him as with an equal in years. I ventured to tell him, however, that if it was in the Bible, as he admitted it was, it was certainly right to preach it; and that I could not see how one could declare the "whole counsel of God" without preaching it. Moreover, I stated that I could not understand how preaching what was taught in Scripture could destroy vital religion; and cautiously intimated that what some considered "vital religion" might, after all, turn out to enthusiasm, if not wild fanaticism, and not christianity at all; and if this should happen to be the case, the sooner it died out the better. Much more was said by both of us, but without any favorable result. I gave him, however, to distinctly understand that I fully believed it to be the truth, and that I was resolved to preach it; and that, if any of the brethren rejected it, I would tell them "brother Stone says it is taught in the Scriptures." This made him laugh. He then pleasantly remarked I was so hardheaded that he could not do anything with me, and he saw I was determined to have my own way. He afterwards requested me in a serious tone not to broach that idea in Georgetown. But I did not promise, for my soul was full of it.

On the 4th day of July brother Stone preached in Georgetown in the morning on Civil and Religious Liberty; I preached at night on the Parable of the Great Supper. I spoke with freedom and effect. Many were effected and wept bitterly. Brother Stone told me to call for mourners. I did so—for I had not, as yet, gotten fully out of that notion. Many came forward, among whom, if memory is not at fault, was John A. Gano, long known among the brethren as the Apollos of Kentucky. Brother Stone took him under his tuition, and I saw him no more until I met him as an eloquent, zealous and efficient preacher.

A few days after this I went with brother Stone and others to a two-days meeting near the Sulphur Well, some eight miles from Georgetown. Brother Stone and I were to preach Lord's day morning. I had prepared a discourse on the 2nd Chapter of Acts, and informed brother Stone that I desired to deliver it that morning in his hearing; and that if I did not preach the truth, he could correct me in his discourse which was to follow. He, however, pleaded with me not to preach the doctrine of baptism for remission of sins; that, it would chill him and prevent his preaching to any purpose. He said he would return home after dinner, and that, if nothing else would do me, I could preach my "chilling and religion-killing doctrine at night." Unwilling to offend him, I yielded to his request. That night, however, some one else preached; but during the discourse a tremendous rain began to fall, and continued till after midnight. As the people could not leave, the now venerable Samuel Rogers and myself occupied the time singing, praying and speaking with those who appeared to be serious. That night before the rain ceased several persons were persuaded to take the Lord at his word, and to be baptized for remission of sins. Early next morning we repaired to the water, where I took their confessions, and buried them with the Lord in baptism. To the honor of the head and heart of brother Samuel Rogers, I have to say, he made no opposition to my preaching to the people that night the doctrine of faith, repentance and baptism for remission of sins; although he did then avow his belief of the teaching. But when I next met him, he was a warm advocate of, the sentiment and was earnestly teaching it.

 Soon after this, I started on a tour of preaching through Southern Kentucky, Tennessee and Alabama. The first protracted meeting I attended was at Mill Creek, in Monroe County, Kentucky in the neighborhood of brother John Mulkey's. On Saturday night a brother DeWit preached. Everything seemed dead and cold. While he was speaking, I requested brother Mulkey to follow in exhortation in which he excelled, and wake up the people. He said he could not do it; that he was not in the right mood to succeed, and urged me to follow. I did so, and so spoke that multitudes wept. I invited the serious forward to the front seat, which was soon filled. I then designated another, which was directly filled; then a third, and fourth. Some fifty persons in all came forward. Some knelt down and began to pray; some wept and sobbed aloud. At length they became composed somewhat, and I proceeded to preach to them baptism for remission of sins. Having concluded, I designated still another seat, directly before the pulpit, and requested that all who felt willing to take Jesus at his word, and to trust his promise for remission of sins, to take that seat. Some four or five, I think, took that seat. I heard their confession, and asked them when they wished to be baptized? One and another answered, "Now." "Tonight?" I asked. "Yes," they said, "tonight—just as soon as possible."

It was now near mid-night, and it was some four hundred yards to the water, and through a dense forest. Besides, there was no moon. But lamps and torches were soon prepared, and the long procession, silent and solemn, moved off down the long slope towards the water. The lights gleamed and flashed among the trees. The measured tread of the large procession was like the solemn march to the city of the dead. Scarcely a word was spoken above a whisper, and only the occasional melancholy host of the gloomy night-owl broke in upon the solemn stillness of the scene. It was a grand occasion. At length the gurgling stream was reached. The lights gleamed and flashed upon the clear waters. A brief prayer was offered, and the penitents were buried and raised again in baptism; and after receiving the congratulations of their friends, the procession moved slowly up the hill. A sweet, melodious song arose and swelled on which the wing of devotion poised itself for heaven. It was a camp-meeting. The large assembly was soon dispersed among the tents, and slept until the trumpet-blast at early dawn arosed{aroused} them from their sweet and quiet slumbers.

This was the first time the ancient gospel had been preached in that section, and the first time it had been heard by the venerable John Mulkey. He was a good man, and an able and efficient preacher. The next time I met him, he was preaching the gospel with marked success. He has long since been called home. He has, however, several sons ably advocating the same cause.

The next meeting that I attended, as I now remember, was on Crow Creek, among the hills, bordering on the line between Tennessee and Alabama. I delivered a discourse on Romans 10:1-10, in which I presented the elements of the gospel—its facts, commands and promises, and urged immediate compliance with its provisions in order to remission of sins.  I invited persons forward to confess with their lips what in their hearts they believed. Several came, and among them a venerable gentleman with a good face and fine broad, high-retreating forehead. He arose almost instantly the invitation was given. He supported with a cane his tottering frame, bent under the weight of many years, and stepped forward, and reached me his bony hand, the tears coursing down his furrowed cheeks. At the conclusion of the song, he asked if he might be permitted to say a few words. He was told to speak on. He arose, and standing nearly half­bent, supported by his cane spoke to the following effect: "Friends, I have asked permission to say a few words. You see I am an old man. I am upwards of seventy years of age. From my youth, I have been anxious to be a Christian. I have always attended religious meetings, and listened attentively to the preaching, anxious to learn what I must do to be saved. When I heard of this meeting, my first impulse was to attend it. But then I thought of my age and infirmity, and the distance, about seventy miles, and I remembered that I had never heard anything that I could understand that I must do to be saved, and it was not likely I would be more fortunate, should I come to this meeting, and I almost abandoned the idea of making the attempt. Then again, I remembered my great age and declining life, and knew I could not live much longer, and the thought of dying without religion was horrible. These reflections armed me with resolution to undertake the long and fatiguing journey, with the faint hope that maybe, I shall hear something that will give me hope and comfort in death. I devoutly thank God that I am here, and that I have been permitted to hear the sermon today. It is the first time in life that I have heard, so that I could understand, what I must do to become a Christian. Young friends, if I had, when I was of your age, heard the discourse to which you have just listened, I would have then become a Christian." At this sad story of the poor old man many wept, and no wonder, it was enough to move a heart of stone.

We heard the confession of the weeping penitents, and instantly repaired to the water but a few paces from the stand, when they were all immersed into Christ Jesus. As the old gentleman emerged from the liquid grave a smile played over his features, blending with his tears; he clapped together his thin hands, and said, "Thanks be to God for the assurance I now feel that my sins are forgiven! I have believed his word, and, as I trust, have from the heart complied with his prescribed conditions of pardon, and, confiding in his word of promise, I rejoice to be assured of my acceptance with my adorable Savior. I can now return home contented and happy, and occupy the few remaining days I may yet live on earth in making ready for the life to come. Friends, one and all, farewell. Our next meeting will be at the judgment. May I hope to see you all in heaven?" At this affecting talk of the old man many wept. It was the last day of the meeting. The congregation soon dispersed. I assisted the old man on his horse, and bade him a final adieu, and never heard of him afterwards, but hope to meet him in heaven. O what meetings and greetings, and joyful recognitions there will be in the spirit world!

Our next meeting was in the upper edge of Jackson County, Ala. in what was called the Price neighborhood. Here again I preached the ancient gospel and immersed for remission of sins some twenty-three persons, among them a James C. Anderson and a brother Russell. They had both been Methodists. Brother Anderson soon became a preacher; and for many years labored through both Ala. and Tenn. He was an efficient preacher, and won many souls to God. He was blind in one eye. He now rests from his labors.

On the approach of winter I retired from active field service, and resumed the study of Medicine, and preached on Lord's days. We had in those days but few meeting houses. When the weather would allow, we worshiped in groves and under sheds. But, as such plans were not suitable for preaching in the winter, we had to occupy private houses. No one now can have any idea of the sacrifices which were made by the Netrian pioneers of the present great religious movement; of the excessive labors which they performed, and the difficulties with which they had to contend. They had to meet bitter, wicked, malignant opposition at every turn. The teaching was new, and the prejudice against it was tremendous. The truth had but few adherants, and they were generally of the poorer class, and without great personal influence. The preachers too were poor, and received but little pecuniary aid. They had, consequently, to resort to some secular pursuit in order to make a living. They were a different class of men from the kid-glove gentry, who frequent the well-furnished houses of rich brethren flipping gold watch-keys, flourishing gold-headed rattans, pulling Havannas, dressed in fine broad cloth, reclining on velvet-cushioned sofas, reading light literature, sprouting Greek; waiting for a loud call to some, rich city church. Some of this class of men, who put on such airs, were born and brought up in poverty. As apparently humble and pious young men, they were sought out and found among the hills, or pining in the shade of apulence; they were recommended to the liberality of the brotherhood, by some of the old pioneer preachers; were sent to school and colleges and educated at public expense. They have advanced so rapidly and travelled so far from their former condition and surroundings as to have lost sight of the men who connected them and recommended them to the notice and liberality of the brotherhood. Some, indeed, have lost sight of their humble, pious mothers, and ignore their worthy sisters! Poor servants these of the sick and lowly! Musical messengers to herald his glad tidings to the poor! They are undeserving the name of ministers of Christ! O tempora! O mores!

An incident was related to me by the brother Rogers above mentioned, and of which he was an eye and Car witness, being at the time a Methodist, and present in the tent when it occurred.

A Methodist minister of the name of Mr. XXXX had been sent among the Cherokee Indians who lived at that time [1825] just across the Tennessee river from Jackson County, Ala. for the purpose of distributing Bibles and Testaments among them. Seeing an intelligent looking young wan who could read English, he made him a present of a new Testament, requesting him at the same time to read it and to do as it told him. The Indian accepted the present and promised to comply with the preacher's request. This was early in the spring of 1825. In the autumn of the same year the Methodists held a camp meeting in Jackson County, Ala. near Bellfront. The young Indian hearing of the meeting, went over to it. On reaching the camp-ground, he inquired for Col. U., the preacher above mentioned. He was informed that he was in the Preacher's tent, which was pointed out to him, He was at once admitted, and, recognizing the preacher, offered him his hand, telling him at the same time he was the man to whom he had given the New Testament; and he added: "I have done as you requested. I have read the book, and have come to get you to go with me to the river." "Why?" the preacher inquired, "Do you want me to go with you to the river?" "I want you to baptise me," was the answer of the red man. "I can baptise you without going to the river," responded the preacher. "How?" the Indian asked. The preacher proceeded to tell him; he "would take some water in a tumble and pour it on his head." This information took the Indian all aback. He paused a moment in evident perplexity and doubt, his eyes resting on the ground. Then raising his head and fixing his keen dark eyes on the preacher, he asked: "Is that baptism?" "Yes," responded the preacher, "that is the way we baptize." The Indian stood a moment as if in deep thought; then raising his head and fixing his eyes again on the preacher, he said, "Col. if that is baptism, you gave me the wrong book!" This terminated the interview. The disappointed Indian instantly left the place, and returned to his home.

The above incident I related to brother A. Campbell in Baltimore, in the winter of 1833-4, and it was published in the Millennial Harbinger sometime afterwards. Many missions have been given of the case since, and the circumstances variously represented. But the above is the correct version of the affair as reported to me by brother Rogers, who stated he was present and saw and heard it all. It had considerable influence in calling his attention to the New Testament account of baptism.

Early in the Spring of 1826, I paid a short visit to Ky. and returned to Tenn. taking with me my youngest brother, B. W. Hall, a youth of 18, when {whom} I immersed that summer for remission of sins.

In Sept. of that year, I attended a camp-meeting on Cypress, in Lauderdale County, Ala. On Sunday night the brethren put me on a table under a large Arbour, in the middle of a large audience. I discoursed on baptism for remission of sins. In the conclusion I invited forward penitents to confess Christ preparatory to their being immersed for remission of sins. Several presented themselves, and among them was Gilbert {Tolbert} Fanning, then a youth. They were immersed the next morning in Cypress Creek by Bro. James. E. Matthews. I will remember the tall form, and the awkward, gangling appearance of G. F. {T.F.} as he appeared at the water, with neither shoes, coat nor vest. See the garments he had on were shirt, pantaloons and socks, and his socks and pantaloons did not, meet by some inches. I thought he was about as uncouth a looking youth as I had seen in many aday. But under the influence of Christianity and proper training, and educational advantages, he has become a man of distinction, eminence and usefulness.

Someone in the brief biography of Pres. T. Fanning, in the Living Pulpit, represents that bro. Fanning was converted as well as baptized, by brother James E. Matthews in the year _________. [Hall leaves space blank. On page 515 of W.T. Moore's book, The Living Pulpit, he surmizes the baptism to have taken place in October, 1827.]

This is a mistake {sic}. At the time alluded to, bro. Matthews was not even a believer in baptism for remission of sins. The sermon that converted {sic}. bro. Fanning convinced {sic} bro. Matthews. Being an honest man, and possessed of fine sense, he gave the subject a thorough investigation; and at my request and by my assistance, wrote several articles on the subject for publication in the Christian Messenger published and edited by brother Stone. I myself took them to brother Stone, on my return to Ky. the following spring, and had no little difficulty in inducing him to insert them in his paper. The articles created quite a sensation among the brotherhood at the time, and called forth several reviews of his articles. This was the time the subject of baptism for remission of sins had been discussed in the Christian Messenger; and these articles opened the way for a full discussion of the whole subject in all its phases, and was the means of convincing many. After the publication of brother Matthews' articles, brother Stone and others fell into line, and others gradually came over to the side of truth.

Brother A. Campbell was the first man, who in our day, fully, and understandably, preached baptism for remission of sins, and who, correctly discriminated between baptism for remission of sins and baptismal regeneration. He contended for the former but utterly repudiated the latter. He, as already seen, pretty freely developed the subject in his debate with Macalla from which I learned it, and soon began to preach it; and as far as known to me, was the only one who did preach it until December 1827. Where bro. Walter Scott commenced to preach it in the Western Reserve in the State of Ohio. But I had been preaching almost eighteen months when Bro. Scott began, and had preached it in Ky., Tenn., and Ala., and converted and immersed over one hundred persons for remission of sins, before brother Scott first opened his lips and lifted up his noble voice in pleading the ancient Gospel. I dwell on this subject only because there appears among some to overlook and wholly to ignore my early struggles and first labors in the cause of Christ, and especially the part that I am the first one to preach the ancient gospel and to urge instant obedience to it, in the present century. I desire simply to vindicate the truth of history. Let justice be done.

The following winter I held a debate in Williamson County with a Mr. A. S. Andrews, a Methodist Minister, on the subjects and action of baptism. He was a gentleman, and an honorable debater. The discussion was conducted with good feelings throughout. He was a fluent speaker, and possessed fine logical powers. He deported himself well, considering the cause he advocated. But public sentiment, I learned, was against him, as to the result. This was my first public discussion.

In the early part of this winter, I taught a Grammar School at Cypress meeting house, Lauderdale Co. Ala., and early in the following January I married Dorinda C., daughter of John Chisholm, Esq. of that County.

I continued to prosecute the study of medicine under the instruction of Dr. Rucker of Florence, Ala.

In the spring I took my young wife on a visit to my relations in Ky. and in the fall settled in Werner County, KY. with the view of preaching to some congregations in that county, and one in Washington Co. at Hillsborough.

At a meeting at Hillsboro, I invited persons forward to confess the Savior. Several presented themselves; among them were two men who had been some times at enmity, and were then carrying weapons for each other. They came from different parts of the house, and happened to come about the same time. Neither knew the other was in the house until they met before the pulpit. Their recognition was mutual, and each offered his hand to the other. So their hands joined, each threw his arm around the other's neck, and there they stood for some moments in each others' embrace, weeping. Their difficulty was settled, and the tomahawk buried forever. They were good friends afterwards, and brethren. O the power of the gospel. It turns a raven to a dove, a lion to a lamb.

I continued my medical studies through the winter, and in the spring removed to Stanford, and entered into partnership with Drs. Heuff and Leoffe, in the practice of medicine.

Shortly after settling in Stanford, I was visited by brethren Sterman, Matters and Paston, all Baptist ministers who were readers of the Christian Baptist, and were favorably inclined towards the views presented by Mr. Campbell.

Up to this time I had read but few numbers of the C-Baptist, but was pleased and profitted by what I had read. This article "On the Word" satisfied me of the divinity of Christ. This debate with Macalla I had procured and read to profit. I was fully committed to the truth, and felt myself identified with "The Reformation."

The brethren, named above, desired that I should join the Baptist Church at Rushbranch near town, and aid in pushing on the work in that section. They had, as yet, no organization. I agreed to do so, provided the Church would agree to adapt the title Church of Christ instead of the name Baptist, and would agree to take the Scriptures as their only rule of faith and practice. These they unanimously agreed to do. I then united with the Church, and was immediately appointed a messenger to the church association, as well as to write the letter to that body. I wrote 27 pages fool's cap. but overing my practice. I could not bear the letter. Only a few pages of it was read, as I was informed afterwards by a bro. Elijah Dawson, a messenger from another congregation, who bore our letter for us.

The next year, however, I attended the Association, which met McCormack's meeting house. Great effort was made to prevent me from taking my seat as a messenger on the ground that I was not the bearer of the letter which was in the hands of the other messenger, Dr. Heum, who had not yet reached the meeting; this was done, not-withstanding they were assured by members of the Rushbranch then present, that I was appointed a messenger. After considerable discussion, I was voted to a seat. The first business, after organizing, was to select preachers to occupy the stand Lord's day morning. Owing to the effort that had been made to keep me from my seat, there was a reaction in my favor, and the largest vote was cast for me. I was, therefore, to speak at 11:00 o'clock. Brother Jacob Warrinner, whose church had been dropped from the association the year before to get him out on account of his alledged Campbellism, received the next highest vote! Hence he followed me on Acts 2:38. Before he closed, some of the very brethren who but a year before had voted him out of the Association drew near, bathed in tears, and asked him, while yet speaking, to come down out of the stand, that they wanted to give him the right hand of fellowship. At their request he went down and gave them his hand. They were completely overcome and when the decision was subsequently made, they were on the side of the reformation.

Sometime in the autumn after I first lived in Stanford, we learned that old brother Thomas Chilton came into that section at the request of certain enemies to the reformation, for the purpose of opposing us. Bro. Sterman came to my house on his way down to meet him at Heurrican Church on one of the head branches of Green river, and insisted that I should accompany him; as there was not much sickness, by consent of Drs. Heuff and Goffe, I went. On our way we fell in with brethren Pastor and Waters on their way to the same meeting. It was agreed that I should enter the arena with our veteran opponent. In reaching the place, we had an interview with bro. Chilton, and informed him of the arrangement between us. He protested he had not intention to oppose us; and said he had come only to see his old friends and preach to them. He delivered a discourse on the 2nd Chap. of Acts down to the 35th. When he had done I arose and commenced where he had left off, and preached the gospel. As far as I heard, he made no attack on our sentiments during his tour.

Soon afterward his Son, the younger Chilton, came into the Larne section with the intention, as we were informed of "demolishing" us at a blow. He was met by all the same brethren, except myself. He denied to them that he had any such design, nor did he attack us until his last discourse when he opened his batteries upon us. He fired one round and precipetately (sic) from the field, and left the country. I was immediately advised of his attack, and was furnished with notes of his discourse taken by bro. John Jennings. I sent an appointment to the same place and reviewed his discourse the next Lord's day. That country now belongs principally to our brethren.

At the solicitations of a church some six miles southwest from Columbia, Ky., that proposed to sustain me as a preacher and also as a physician, and them being too many of us together in Stanford, I concluded to remove to Adair County. The support they gave me was so meager, and the country so healthy, that I removed to Columbia, and devoted myself to my profession, preaching occasionally-only. But after remaining there a year, and not much liking the country, and having, what I supposed from unpresentation, to be a good offer, I removed to Madisonville, Hopkins County. I was disappointed in the place and surrounding country, and resolved not to make that my permanent home.

While living here, I paid a visit to Christian County, and preached a few times. A W. Wooldridge, member of the Baptist Church came several miles to hear me one Lord's day, and took me almost viet armes to his house to preach that night, informing me the appointment was made and circulated through the neighborhood. I could understand his motive for wishing me to go particularly that night, and he did not tell me until we reached the place, and he introduced me to brethren William Davenport and Isaiah Boon. These brethren were readers of the writings of A. Campbell, and were favorable to his views, but had never ventured to preach baptism for remission of sins. This was the point on which they wished to hear me discourse. I complied with their request. They sat together during the discourse. They became pleased, delighted as I entered into the merits of our theme. They first wept and shook hands; then embraced; then cried out and thanked God for the truth. They returned home and both began to preach the gospel in earnest.

A good deal of the time I lived in Madisonville, I occupied in the study of law with Mr. Gleenly S. Bennett, afterwards for many years Judge of a District in Miss.

While I still lived in Madisonville, a Dr. John Harris, Dentist, visited the place and proposed to teach me the science and art of the profession for a specific sum. I agreed to become his pupil. From there he went to Princeton, and remained some time. I took my wife and little twin daughters to a friend's in the country, and joined Dr. H. When there I preached frequently of nights and on Lord's days. Considerable interest was excited. Several were immersed, among them some of the students of Cumberland College. This created alarm in the ranks of sectarianism; and a Mr. Lowry, Cumberland, opened an attack upon me. I replied one night to his discourse the previous night. Finally, he withdrew from the arena, and gave me the field until I should get through with a series of discourses which I had commenced, promising to review them forthwith so as to give me time to reply before I should leave the place. I concluded my series on Lord's day afternoon, and announced my intention to leave the next Saturday, to meet a distant appointment the next day. Mr. Lowrey arose, and stated, he would commence his review of my discourse a month from that day! Nothing could induce him to reply to me at an earlier time. By that time I had publicly stated, I expected to be in Ala. He had no intention that I should hear his review. It too turned out that, owing to the sickness of my wife, I did not get off; and to the chagrin of Mr. Lowry, but the delight of many others, on Saturday before he was to open his batteries upon me, I drove into Princeton, and instantly announced that I would speak at three o'clock the next day in reply to Mr. L's morning discourse. The intelligence flew through all the country. Next morning the town was alive with people who came to hear the discussion.

The morrow dawned beautifully and the sun arose in cloudless glory, and shooting his rays across the earth, and in his golden chariot, mounted the hill of heaven. About 10:00 o'clock, Mr. Lowrey entered the spacious and densely filled house, pale and agitated, followed by two wheelbarrow loads of books. The people grunted, or groaned or sighed at the sight of his documents. To read a scrap from each would occupy the day. He commenced to speak at 10, and continued until 1 o'clock, and before dismissing the audience, announced his intention to resume at 3 o'clock, and to speak again at night. A murmur of disapproval spread throughout the house. An old Baptist brother cried out, "We over here wish to hear Dr. Hall. Let him proceed at one." Mr. Lowrey interfered saying, “The people are tired and want their dinner.” “Take the vote! Take the Vote!” cried a dozen voices. The excitement was becoming intense. "Dr. Hall!  Dr. Hall!" cried a hundred voices. “Take the vote!" was repeated by as many. I quietly arose, and after stating the circumstances as they had occurred, as the apparent determination of Mr. L. to prevent my being heard. I proposed that who disued me to proved (sic) at once and occupy to time until 3 o'clock to hold up their hand. A boust {host} of hands was stretched high up in an instant. The negative was proposed, and seven hands were poked up, but were soon dropped. They were called for again by several, that they might be counted. So I provided. Mr. Lowery took his hat to leave, but Pres. Coit requested him not to go, and he sat down.

I spoke one hour. I literally played my opponent, for he deserved no quarters in the estimation at his friends even. When I was done, he looked lightning-seathed and thunder riven. So I concluded, the people simultanious arose and rushed for the doors. The house was soon empty. Mr. L. cried out as the people scrambled out; that he would resume the discussion at night.

In the mean time, owing to the pressure of public sentiment, his brethren induced Mr. L. to give me night about with him. (sic)

During the entire discussion, which continued several nights. Mr. L. came loaded with books. I had two—my Bible and Hymn book. I foundered for no others.

"Truth crushed to earth, will rise again.

The eternal years of God are hers;

But error, wounded, writhes with pain.

And dies amid her worshipers."

When I was through with Mr. L. I went down to Eddieville and took water for Florence, Ala. and, with my little family reached my wife's father's in due time, although I was taken sick on the way, and so continued for several weeks after reaching Ala.

Just as I was able to be up a little, my wife was taken ill; and after a sickness of six weeks to a day, she fell asleep in Jesus just as the setting sun kissed adieu to our hemisphere.

To dwell on the sad scene would be painful to me, and unprofitable to my readers. Suffice it. Suffice it to say, she was baptized for remission of her sins shortly after our marriage, and from that time till the day of her death exemplified in her walk the power of the gospel, and the purity, benevolence, and excellence of the religion of Christ. She committed the caring and training of her babes just two years old to two of her sisters, who performed well the task enjoined upon them by their dying sister. When they were about twelve years old the sworn time-of water and the Spirit into the kingdom of God. With my own hands I buried them with Christ in baptism. From that day onward they imitated the example of their sainted mother. One of them has gone to rejoin her in the heavens. The other is still holding her steady course towards her heavenly home. Thanks be to God for his goodness.

As the result, visible, of our labors in Princeton, I may mention the obedience of some of the College Students and others, among whom I name Smith Doolin and bro. Boggs. Brother Strut of Christian County, now a distinguished minister of Christ, and the late Judge Maddel, of Texas, and other students were convinced of the truth, but did not at the time obey the gospel, but did so subsequently.

A few weeks after the death of my wife I set out on horseback for West Tenn. to practice Dentistry and to preach the gospel. I visited Purdee {sic - Purdy}, Denmark, Brownsville, Covington, and Randolph. I was quite successful in my profession, and did a good deal of preaching. At some points I hired a house and {??} ton, purchased candles and preached—all at my own expense. I sowed broad-cast the seeds of truth.

In the fall I returned to see my children, and after spending a few days with them, set out for Pulaski, Tenn., where I remained through the winter practicing my profession and preaching when occasion offered. I returned in the spring to see my children and friends; and after a brief stay with them, took the stage at Florence for Memphis, where I remained a few weeks, and then took a boat for the mouth of White river, on my way to Little Rock, Ark. After a travel from there sometimes in a yak, sometimes on horseback, and in a miserable hack, I reached Little Rock, in safely and in good health, and soon commenced the practice of Dentistry, and did well as long as I chose to practice there.

In Little Rock I found a small Baptist Church of the Zillite stripe, governed by the Phil leon{sic} Faith. They owned a meeting house, the only one at that time in the place. They requested me to preach for them. I cheerfully consented to do. After a few discourses, the crowds that came to hear were great. An interest was created-such, I was informed, as had not before been experienced. Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptist, and all, spoke of my corning as providential. I was on the eve of leaving. A boat was at the wharf; my trunk was packed; my tavern bill paid, and all ready for me to leave. I stopped into the parlor to trace leave of a few lady friends. When sister Leal, a Baptist, began to plead with me not to go, saying I had the ears of that people as no one ever had before; that the way was open for me to be eminently useful, and that she thought it would be wrong for me to leave. She followed up her arguments with soft persuasion, such as none but a pious mother in Israel can use, accompanied with a gush of tears. I was completely overcome, convinced, persuaded, and yielded to her solicitations. I consented to remain, however, on condition that I should be allowed, and free to preach my sentiments freely. Several of the more prominent members of the church present yielded their hearty consent for me to do so. I then took boarding at the house of a W. W. Stevenson, a Cumberland Presbyterian preacher and whose wife was a worthy and prominent member of the Baptist Church. I locked up my dental instruments, and went to work in earnest preaching almost every night in the week and twice on Lord's day.

The 4th of July was at hand. I announced that I would preach on that day on Christian Union. The day arrived, and the hour for preaching had come. I reached the house and found it literally packed from the door to the pulpit, lower floor and gallery. I wormed my way to the pulpit. Expectation was on tiptoe; but no one present had any idea of the terms I would propose for the union of all Christians. Ministers of all the denominations were present-Methodist, Old and Cumberland Presbyterian, and Baptist. After surging and prayer, I read the 133rd Psalm "behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." I spoke near two hours, acid the audience listened, from the beginning to the close, with fixed attention, and apparently with the deepest interest. I then walked down out of the pulpit, and taking a position on the floor, and holding up the Bible, inquired how many were willing to unite on that precious book, and together battle for the truth of God, for the Scriptural union of Christians, and for the conversion of the world? The crowd being too dense for any material change of position, it was suggested that those favorable to such a union and were willing, there and then to go into the organization, should hold up their hand. Every Baptist in the house and several Presbyterians and Methodists raised their hand. Their names were taken. We met again in the afternoon, when an opportunity was given for any who might wish to make the good confession. Several came forward, when we took their confession and the confession of those who had given their names in the morning, who had not been immersed. We then repaired to the river Arkansas just below the town, and in presence of a large concourse, they were buried with their Lord in baptism.

Up to this time all parties had been friendly, and the preacher of all parties had stood by me and incouraged{sic} my efforts. No one had as yet expressed any dissent or uttered a word in opposition. But this new movement-this union on the Bible created alarm in the ranks of sectarianism, and was the signal for attack. The cry of "Campbellism" was raised; the remaining fragments of each party moved off under their respective file-leaders, and war was fully inaugurated. I continued to preach, and at almost every meeting we had accessions from the world and the sects, until nearly every Methodist and Presbyterian in the place united with the Church of Christ. Their organizations were completely broken up. No party had members enough to form even a nucleous. Their meetings were sparcely attended, so completely had they lost cause with the people.

But as yet, brother Stevenson had not taken his stand with us, although fully convinced of the truth and correctness of our position. Several of his friends were ready to unite, but were waiting for him. Everything was ripe, as I assured him, but he could not see it. He was waiting to get them all. Finally, when the tide was beginning to ebb, he perceiving it, united with us. But not one followed him at the time. He was disappointed and mortified. He then saw his error and confessed it; but it was too late to repair it.

Still, however, the work went on, until 49 nine {sic} were immersed, and many who had been immersed among the sects united, making in all some 85 members.

In the meantime, at the salutations of numerous brethren and friends, my discourse on Christian Union had been written out and published, and was being extensively circulated.

About this time, a brother Clark, who was the pastor of the Church at the time I came to the place, and who had joined the opposition after the 4th of July Discourse, came to inform me that he was "converted." He had investigated the subject, and had become convinced we were right. He was then living on the Saline and preaching to a Baptist Church there some 33 miles from the Rock. He now entered, heartily into the work and became an efficient preacher, but died soon afterwards.

A David Orr, a Baptist preacher, who had been a member of the Legislature, and who lived some distance away, heard of the work going on in and around Little Rock, came to see after the little flock. He came to Judge Caldwell's where he had boarded the winter before, when in the Legislature. Sister C. had long been a Baptist, and the Judge had become a Christian. He sent for me to come to see him. Scarcely was I seated when he informed me he had heard of the strange work in Little Rock, and had come about 60 miles to see about it; and either to oppose or assist, he did not then know which; and requested me to give him all the particulars of our position. I proceeded to do so. He was silent. I asked him to say what he thought of it? He answered: "I want to hear you preach before I can give an answer." I had an appointment for that night and the next morning and evening. For the sake of bro. Orr., I went back and passed briefly over the ground of difference between us and the Baptists. When I had done I asked bro. O. to speak. "Not now, I am not ready yet," was his prompt and brief reply. I told him I would give him his own time. After we had had several interviews and much conversation; or rather, after he had asked me a hundred and one questions, which I endeavored to answer, without his answering me once, or in any way committing himself, or even expressing an opinion even, he let we know he was ready to preach; but utterly refused to intimate to me or anyone else, that I could hear of, the course he intended to adopt, or what position to assume—whether that of a coadjutor, or opponent. The appointment was made, and large audience was convinced. I was there with paper and pencil to take notes. All appeared to know the attitude of things and were eager to hear.

He began by giving a statement of his previous position, and a brief history of matters from the time he had heard of my be-{????} at Little Rock until that hour; and stated the points on which he had elicited my views and position, and proceeded to say he would now tell what he thought of it all. Here he paused for some moments, and threw his eye over the audience. Preachers of all the denominations were before him. He seemed to be considerably agitated; the muscles of his face quivered; he opened his lips, his mouth, and drew a long breath, and said; "I believe Dr. Hall is right. I am with him; and, henceforth, I intend to battle by his side!" This announcement thrilled the whole house, and was like the sudden shock of an earthquake. He was fully committed to the Reformation of the 19th Century.

The following week we went to the assistance of bro. Clark on Saline, and fully organized the Church of Christ there. The next week I was to go with him to Batesville to open the cause before the Baptist Association that was to meet there at that time; but was prevented by a sudden and severe attack of billious fever from which I did not fully recover until about the middle of December, and which came well nigh terminating my earthly existence, and would have done, no doubt but for good nursing and medical. Brethren Clark and Orr, however, went and sowed much good seed in that part of Ark. They took with {them} a number of copies of my Discourse. Some twenty five years afterwards I met a bro. Stuckland in Texas, who informed me that that Discourse converted him from Baptistism to Christianity. He was a noble man, an able preacher, and did much good. He has finished his labors, and now sleeps in Jesus.

Being still in a feeble, lingering condition, unable to regain my strength, I concluded to visit Cuba. I had, during the time I was in Little Rock, over-taxed my strength. I preached almost constantly day and night, either in the town or in the country. During the hot summer, I preached nearly every night; and would go, wet with perspiration, and exhausted, from the pulpit into the water to immerse new converts to the truth. And the congregations were generally so large that the colored people were quite crowded out. There was a gallery to the house, but it was too small to contain over a tythe of those who desired to hear. So that, at their request, I set apart one night in each week to preach to them. From the first a few white people attended on those occasions; but the number continued to increase, until the colored people, after filling the gallery, were quite crowded out of the house. One night I complained of this, and that I preached to them five or six nights in the week and only one to the colored people: and that, if they would come on that night, they must go to the gallery. After meeting a gentleman asked me if I knew why so many white people came to hear me when I preached to the blacks? I told him I did not, and was surprised that they did so. "I will explain it," he continued. "You preach better to the negroes than you do to us. Your illustrations are more simple and pointed, and your language more familiar." This suggested to me a new idea about preaching—to aim low—, and I resolved that, henceforth, I would use more simple language, and would illustrate by common-place figures, and aim more directly at the heart. I have continued to do so ever since and found it to be the more successful course. I endeavor to speak to the understanding of children. No one, of ordinary capacity now, as far as I know, complains that he cannot understand me.

About the third Lord's day in December 1832. I delivered in a sitting posture, being unable to stand, my farewell discourse to the Church and people of Little Rock, and took a boat for New Orleans; and after spending a few days in the cressent {sic} City, I set sail, in a Spanish Schooner for Cuba, and in a few days entered the port of Havanna under the frowning height and threatening cannon of Mora{Moro?} Castle. Heaving came from a city where it was supposed there was Colera {Cholera}, we anchored out in the bay, under a tropical sun, where we lay in quarantine{sic} for several days, when we were permitted to approach the bay. After some delay and much trouble, the passengers were allowed to go ashore and enter the city. This was the first time I had ever been to sea, and was deathly sick during the voyage, and ate nothing of consequence the whole time. I was rejoiced and delighted to get on land once more, but found it difficult to walk erect and steady for some time. I took lodgings at Mrs. Howard's. A fashionable American boarding house in the city, where we had fine, accommodations, and had an opportunity of meeting with naval officers of all nations-generally, as intelligent, affable, and courteous gentlemen, as a class, as I had ever met with.

I spent the winter in Havana and vicinity, and had an opportunity of visiting all places of note and interest in and about the city. Here we saw Romanism without any disquise {sic}, or restraint, on the garb it wears in Protestant countries, Yes, I saw it in its nudity. I visited the great Cathedral. I was through the public garden, and saw the tropical fruits hanging on the trees and shrobs{sic}-coffee, oranges, bananas, cocoa nuts, plantain, etc. etc.

Next spring (1833) I returned to the U. S. and landed at Wilmington, N. C. where I found a small Baptist Church, ministered to by an old preacher of the name of Gregg. I remained here a short time; gave Elder Gregg a copy of the discourse preached in Little Rock, which he read; and was so much pleased with it that he took around and read it to his brethren, and induced the church to abandon their human creed, and to be governed henceforth by the Scriptures alone. Here I delivered only a few discourses. On Lord's day morning after I landed I went to the Baptist Church, and after hearing bro G. deliver a sensible discourse, I introduced myself to him and showed him a number of letters from Baptist ministers, recommending me as a minister. On my consenting to speak, he announced to the audience that I would preach that night, and stated that I was from Ky. Returning from the meeting in the morning in company with a Dr. ---- whose acquaintance I had made, he asked me if he correctly understood Mr. G., to say I was from Ky.?" I told him I was from Ky. "Why, I thought," said he, "that the Kentuckians were all flat­boatmen and hog-drovers!" I did not know that any of them were preachers!" He manifested about as much intelligence, and knowledge the much as did an Episcopalian lady a few days afterwards. She asked me where the Mississippi Valley was! I told her it embraced a large scope of country, several states and territories, and enumerated some of them, and among others named Ky. "My," said she, "I thought the people of the Mississippi Valley were heathens; and I have been contributing money every year to Christianize the heathen of that country." I told her I lived in that country, and was a pretty fair specimen of its inhabitants. "Well! well!" she responded, "If you are a specimen of the people who live in that country, they will get no more of my money to send the gospel there: for I learned more about Christianity from the discourse I heard you preach last night than I have learned from our minister in the last twelve months."

The novelty of a preacher from Ky. brought out more than could get into the Baptist church house; and I was politely invited to occupy the much larger Presbyterian house. It was here this lady heard me. Nothing special resulted from my preaching here, however. Indeed, I did not remain long enough to make an effort, although I had crowded houses when I did speak.

Auburn was the next point that l made. Here I became acquainted with Elder Armstrong, Pastor of the Baptist Church, who was favorably disposed towards Mr. Campbell's teachings. At his request wrote for the C. Baptist and M. Harbinger to be sent to him, he afterward removed to Miss. and I understood became a great enemy to what he was pleased to call C-ism. I spoke a few times in his church, but without any especial result.

My next stopping place was Washington, D, C., where I remained some weeks, preaching and practicing my profession. There were a few Baptists here, but no church. They however, had a house where I preached with considerable success; baptized a number of persons, and organized a church on the Bible.

During my stay at this place, I was visited by Gen. Clark, a Baptist minister of some distinction; a man of wealth, who had been for sometime a reader of A. B's{C’s} writings, and was favorably disposed towards their teaching. He had, however, never heard the ancient gospel, and asked me to preach on the 2nd Chap. of Acts and 13th N. I did so. He told me afterwards he preached the same all around a long list of appointments he then had with some success. He afterwards removed to Miss, and executed a good influence in the city of Jackson and vicinity. He was a good man; lived many years, but time since passed away to his rest.

I next went to Edenton on the Albemail sound, where I made the acquaintance of Elder Thomas Meredith, who had been seven years of the Baptist Church there. Here I fully presented the gospel, and preached baptism for remission of sins. Quite a number believed it and were immersed for remission. Bro. M. told me he had often preached the same things there, as others also informed me; but so as not to create any interest, because he never called on the people to accept it and at once to obey the gospel. As his last year had just expired, the Church had the impudence, against my protestations, to choose me for their Pastor, for I told them I could not accept the position and it was the cause, as I assured them would be the case, of their losing their preacher. He, accordingly left them, and removed to Roughigh, where, for many years, he edited the {???} in which he published several articles in favor of baptism in order to remission of sins.

I next {went} to Norfolk, VA. where I became acquainted with the late Dr. Howell, then Pastor of the church in that city. After showing some letters speaking favorably of me as a Baptist minister, I frankly told him I agreed with Mr. A. Campbell in all his teachings in which he differed from the Baptists. After asking me what I believed on certain points and receiving my answers; he said my views differed but little from his own; and that, if I would preach them without saying anything about Mr. C. there would be but little, if any exception taken to my teaching. I, of course, told him I would do so. He then requested me to preach, which I did; after which by his request and the concurrence of the Church, I held a meeting of days with the Church. The result was the addition of some 20 or more to the church by baptism.

It happened that his year was just closed with the Church, and the Deacons and others consulted me in regard to my becoming their Pastor. I told them I could not consent to do so. They continued to urge me to accept. I still persisted, and requested them to drop the subject at once, else they would lose their preacher as the Church at Edenton had done. The matter, however, came to the ears of Mr. Howell, at which he took offence, and went to Nashville, Tenn. I was the innocent cause of his removing, which I regretted; for I did not think they could find a man to suit them better. I often met with him afterwards during his abode in Nashville. Our relations were friendly, although he wrote some pretty severe things against me after I left Norfolk, and stated that I had deceived him; which, however, was a mistake. I hope he was a good man, notwithstanding, and I desire to meet him in heaven, where all mistakes will be rectified and our differences forgotten.

From Norfolk I went to Washington City, where I preached some time to the Savy Ward Baptist Church, and added some thirty to their number. This church was without a pastor. They called me to take charge of the Church, offering one a living salary. But I declined, and went to Baltimore, where I stopped only a few days, when I set out to see Bro. Campbell at his Bethany home. I stopped off the stage at Clayvillage some ten miles from Bethany, and sent a request to bro. C. to send me a horse to go to his house, he sent me a horse with a note requesting me to meet him at his brother-in-law's near Middleburg, Pa. wishing me to accompany him the next day to Pittsburgh, and thence to Braddock's field where he had an appointment. I cheerfully complied with his request, and was conducted, through a heavy rain, by bro. Bryant on to bro. McMuner's, where we arrived that night. But owing to the rain bro. C. did not get there that night. This was a great disappointment to me, as I had never met him, and was anxious to enjoy that pleasure. The time, however, passed agreeably with that intelligent, pious and pleasant family. The night wore away; the day dawned, and the sun arose unclouded; breakfast-time came and passed, and bro. C, had not arrived, but was momently expected. An agreeable conversation sprang up and arrested the attention of the little circle, and for a time everything but the topic under discussion was forgotten. At a moment when the attention of all was fixed, Mrs. M. looked out through the window, and exclaimed: "Yonder comes bro. A--now!" I cast my eye in the direction she was looking, and caught sight of a rather tall and stout-looking figure, approaching the house. His step was somewhat quick, elastic, regular and firm. His dress attracted my attention. He had on a mixed janes surteut coat, white, slouched hat, rather broad brim, and not a very high crown; the brim was broken loose from the crown on one side, and flopped down over his ear. He had in his hand a large palmetto walking cane, with ivory head. He was, as I supposed, some six feet high, and a little stooped. By the time I had taken this eye-sketch of him, he was at the door, and met by his sister with an affectionate greeting. The first question he asked her was, "Is bro. Hall here?" He was answered in the affirmative, and asked to walk into the parlor. I need not say I was seized suddenly with a palpitation at the heart, and that I felt a kind of choaking sensation about my throat; that my hand grew suddenly cold, and my lips dry, and that I had rather strange sensations as he entered the parlor door and flashed upon me his keen dark-blue eye, and in an instant scanned me from head to foot, as I stepped to meet him, introduced by his sister. Evidently perceiving my embarrassment, he kindly asked me to be seated. His features were animated, and his countence{sic} indicated feelings of gentleness, humility and kindness. He beamed upon me a gracious smile, and in tones of affection, and in a voice of tenderness, asked after my health. Common-place topics occupied us until he was called to breakfast. Breakfast over, he seemed in haste to get off, as the distance to Pittsburgh, which he determined to reach that day, was considerable, and the road rough and rocky. Taking leave of the family, we mounted our horses, and were on our way to the coal-smoked city.

Our road lay over mountains, across streams, along hollows and among rocks, and sometimes, through mud.

Without intending me to perceive it, he introduced such topics of conversation as would lead me to express my views on a variety of subjects. The arts, the sciences generally, medicine, chemistry, botany, physiology-all were introduced, and briefly discussed; as well as Astronomy, Geology, History, {???} and propane, all had a share in our conversation. Now and then, as we passed under some frowning precipice, or stood upon some lofty emmince{sic} that overlooked the country for miles around, dotted with houses, Mr. Campbell discant{sic} in the most eloquent terms, on the Majesty, Power, and Goodness of the All-wise Creator, whose fiat spoke into being the stupendous Universe with its teaming millions of sentient inhabitants. After dwelling for a time on the Greatness and Glory of the Infinite Jehovah, in language loftier than I had ever heard before; he would pour out the earnest devotions of his full heart in humble thanksgiving for his consideration and goodness to the children of men. The love of God to fallen, ruined man, was a theme upon which he delighted to dwell. Such eloquence I had not heard before. There was no effort to be eloquent. So natural and unastentatious was his whole manner, that more than once I asked myself, I wonder if he knows he is eloquent? His was no tinsel eloquence—the flowers of rhetoric gathered, assorted, and arranged in beautiful order, like a {???}; it was the eloquence of thought, of the grandest ideas expressed in the most vigorous language. His ideas welled up from the profoundest depths of his great heart, all aglow with love, reverence and gratitude to the Great God and Father of our spirits, and the Creator of all things.

Mr. C's conversations enlarged my views and elevated my thoughts of God and divine things. He gave me, without intending it, or thinking of it, new conceptions of God and Providence, and of the scheme of redemption. My feelings of devotion were called into new and higher exercise than they were want, and I felt that my heart was made better. My thoughts were kept so constantly amid scenes of beauty and grandeur, that I had no sense of weariness; and we entered the city late in the evening with no sensation of fatigue. As it was too late to hunt up any of the brethren, we put up at a hotel. I slept soundly, and next morning felt quite refreshed.

On Lord's morning we set out for Braddock's field, accompanied by several brethren. On reaching the place, we found a large audience assembled to hear Mr. C. There was no meeting-house; but a stand had been erected and ample provision made to seat the great concourse drawn together by the fame of the preacher—for he had never been there before. He asked me to participate in the speaking, but I declined. I came to hear-to hear Mr. Campbell.

He read the four versions of the Commission, and discoursed on the Gospel-identifying it by its attributes, its facts, command and promises, its arrangement, etc. The day was cold, it being late in September, and the wind was blowing in the speaker's face. He spoke, however, nearly two hours. But he fell somewhat short of my high expectations. From his writings I had formed lofty conceptions of his powers. The effort was not up to my standard, although characterized by perspicuity of statement, logical argument, and conclusive reasoning. But his voice seemed cracked and soon became hoarse by speaking in the wind. And, yet it was a fine discourse—the best of the kind I had then heard, but not to be compared to many which heard him deliver afterwards.

Mr. C. had left an appointment for Pittsburg at night, and had associated my name with his in the announcement against my protestations, and insisted that I should preach, which I was not willing to do. The people knew nothing of me, and I was well aware that it was Mr. C. they expected and desired to hear.

The brethren in Pittsburg were at that time quite primitive in their practice, even in the holy kiss, and in their house of worship as well. Its architectural style was something after the from{form} of a Pennsylvania barn; about square, and the ceiling about eight feet high. The house was not plastered, and was lighted by a few candles stuck up around the walls. The seats were low benches without backs. There was, of course, no pulpit; for the speaker was intended to be in all respects on a level with the people. A small table, a pocket bible and a single candle distinguished the place he was to occupy. The house, though large, was filled when we entered the house, isles and all, if indeed it is lawful to call the passways by that name, and we had no little difficulty in worming our way to the further side of the house when a dim taper was burning. Many of course were compelled to stand, unable to find seats.

Mr. C. had decided that I must preach, and from his decision there was no appeal. One alternative, however, suggested itself. I could not speak to that audience without being a little elevated above the heads of the standing masses, and at once resolved not to make the attempt; and I told bro. C. so. If I had to speak, I must have a platform on which to stand. Bro. C. stated my determination to some of the brethren. I saw they did not like it; but they could not help themselves. Bro. C. decided not to speak, and threw the responsibility on me. I determined not to speak without a platform on which to stand. Some of the most "primitive" of the brethren showed no little chagrine; {sic} but after some whispering among themselves, two or three of them worked their way out of the house, but soon returned with a hat box which they brought in, carrying it above the heads of the standing crowd. On this I stood and spoke some 35 or 40 minutes from Rom. 10:1-10. When I had concluded, Bro C. arose and spoke about as long on the same subject. His remarks were fine, appropriate and impressive. His voice was much better than in the morning in the open air. I had carried my discourse to the extent of my knowledge of the passage. Bro C. commenced where I had concluded and went further than my thoughts had ever reached. He had the happy faculty of evolving from a passage of Scripture more than any one I ever heard.

Next morning we set out for Bethany. And immediately bro. C. set in to making arrangements for a tour east of the mountains, into Eastern Va., Baltimore and Phil. It was his request that I should accompany him on this tour. We accordingly set out, as well as I now remember, about the 1st Oct., 1833. An account of our trip was written by bro. C. and published from time to time in the M. H.

I remained in Baltimore until I saw bro. C. off to Phil. I went with him and after taking leave of him and his company, I went ashore and remained on the wharf until the boat started. The lost bell had rand, (sic) the steam was up. The captain standing on the upper deck, cried out haul in the plank; loose the cable. Just then I heard the cry; "All aboard." In an instant, the boat moved off, and was soon under way, as a thing of life. Scarcely was it out of reach of shore when I heard the cry: "Hold on a minute, Captain, and let me aboard. You are taking off with my wife and children; I want to go with them." Looking around, I saw men and women running, carpet-sack in hand, and hailing the boat, anxious to get aboard. But the Captain heeded not their calls, and cries and intreaties. {sic} The boat sped on, and was soon out of sight. The boat had remained at the wharf until the hour announced to leave—the last moment of the time allotted. When that time had expired, it left. Many who intended to go on the boat that day, were left. They congregated on the wharf in groups and lamented their sad fate. Some mentioned the reason of their delay. One said he would have been on time but that he was a candidate for some office, and called in at a coffee-house to treat some of his friends. Another was delayed attending to a matter that should have been arranged long ago. One thought there was no need to hurry, supposing he would be on time. Another had slept too late. Thus, I thought it will be when the danger of the trumpet of doom shall break upon an astonished world. The great mass of mankind will be in eager pursuit, each of favorite scheme—all seeking worldly gain. Some seeking fame, some in hot pursuit of wealth; some seeking pleasure in mirth and dissipation: but few looking out for the coming event, and none expecting the day at hand: when sudden as an earthquake or an unexpected peak of thunder, the cry shall be heard: "Time shall be no longer." Then the nations under ground shall begin to stir and spring to life. The judgment shall sit, the books shall be opened, and every one shall be rewarded according to his works.

During our stay in Baltimore several were added by baptism. The number, if I remember, was reported in the M. H.

From the first discourse I heard Mr. C. deliver until the last during our visit to Baltimore, he continued to rise in my estimation of him as a speaker, until I was ready to exclaim: "The half had not been told me!" He was greater than I had imagined. And I say now, after an intimate acquaintance of over twenty years, and during that time having heard him deliver hundreds of discourses; I feel compelled to say of him, Take him as a man, and as a writer and speaker:

"Take him all in all, He ne'er shall look upon his like again."

From Baltimore I went to Washing {Washington} City, where I remained the greater part of the winter 1833-4. While there I frequently visited the two houses of Congress, and had the opportunity of hearing the great Statesmen on the leading questions which at that time agitated the Country. In the Senate I heard Misters Webster, Clay, Calhoon, Benton and others, and in the lower House Mc Guffee and numerous others. While there I learned of my father's death. He left me nothing by his will; nor was I disappointed, as I did not expect anything; for such was our contract some twelve years before; and I was willing to abide by it.

Late in the winter I started towards Ky.; stopped a few days in Fredericksburg, VA. where I spoke a few times and immersed a lady after meeting the last night, and took the stage at Goelack P.M. for Charlottesville, where I remained a few weeks preaching in the Baptist Church, and baptized several persons. Here I made the acquaintance of brethren Coleman and Goss, then Baptist ministers, but fully imbued with primitive Christianity. They soon afterwards took sides with the Reformation, as did also a good many of the church there.

During my stay in Charlottesville I paid a visit to Monicello, {sic} long the residence of Thomas Jefferson. I visited the Va. University also, situated near the town.

Leaving Charlottesville on the stage, I came on through {???}, Lexington, etc. and was anxious to visit the natural bridge, one of the great curiosities of Va., a remarkable freak of nature, but was prevented by circumstances. Coming by the Hawk's next, or Marshall's Pillar, on New River, the stage stopped long enough for us to see that wonderful precipice. It was fearful to stand on the precipice and look over the brink, I know not how many hundreds of feet and see the water rushing over the rocks. Our next stopping place was Charleston on the Vanhover, in the neighborhood of the great Salt-works of the same name. Lacking water here, I went on down to Maysville, Ky., where I took the stage and went to Gen. Metcalf's, and thence to Moorfield, still the home of my dear venerable mother.

I will state here that my youngest sister, who had joined the Baptists, and my mother both left the Baptists and united with the Church of Christ, of which they both died members. My oldest brother Cornelius, and my second brother, Levi F. both joined the Reformation, and were Bishops of the Church of Christ when they died. My brother Jerry next older than myself is still living (1869) and a member of the Church of Christ, as is also my youngest brother.

After remaining some time with my mother and bro. B. W. Hall who was then living with my mother, and visiting some of my kin in that section, I went to Paris, KY. to practice my profession and preach what I could. While here I visited the church at old Caneridge, South Middletown, Millersburg, Carlisle, Coopersrun, Mt. Carmel and other places and preached the ancient gospel. I also preached in Paris, and had the happiness of being present when those among the Baptists who sympathized with Mr. C. and the Old Christian church, formed a union on the Bible, and henceforth were one people. About a year ago I was at Paris, and learned that nearly all the old members had crossed the Jordan. A few who formed that union still live in other countries—Bro. Heiran Bledoe, for instance, who now lives in Mo.

From Paris I went to Georgetown where I made the acquaintance of the noble John T. Johnson and others, and found the venerable Stone still editing the Christian Messenger, having associated with him bro. J. T. Johnson. Here I opened an office and pursued my profession, and in company with bro. Johnson visited the Churches at Dryrun, Stamping-ground, Great Crossing, Canerrun, and several others, and had the happiness of seeing many persons in a short time become obedient to the faith. This was in the year 1834. This fall bro. B. W. Stone removed and took his paper with him, to Jacksonville, Ill. Whereupon bro. Johnson and myself issued a prospectus for the Gospel Advocate, the publication of which was commenced in Jan. 1834, at Georgetown, KY.

In the meantime we continued to preach generally pretty much all over that country, and sowed broadcast the seed of truth, which has continued to grow and flourish ever since. Indeed many a rich harvest has been gathered since then in that goodly country.

In the autumn of that year, I visited New Castle, Henry County, and in eight days added to the Church there and at Palmyra, some four miles distant, seventy-five persons by confession and baptism. I visited Shelleyville also, where many became obedient to the faith. At Bloomfield likewise several bowed to the Prince of Peace; and at numerous other places many were gathered into the fold of Christ. At almost every point we visited, the truth triumphed.

The next year (1836) removed to Lexington from which place the paper was issued. This year I was appointed one of three Evangelists for the Counties of Fayette, Woodford, Scott, and Jessamine. J. Creath Jr. and J. P. Lancaster were the other two. We did a great deal of preaching, and added many to the army of the faith.

In the autumn I removed to Woodford Co. and issued the G. A. at Versailles. After the close of the second vol. bro. Johnson gave the paper up entirely to me, and I associated with me bro. Wm. Hunter, a young, talented and eloquent young preacher recently from the east. At his suggestion we changed the title of the paper to "The Christian Panoplist." After a short time I turned the paper over to him and he became the sole editor and proprietor.

During this summer (1836) I was sent for by bro. Johnson to go over to Madison County, where he and others were gathering in a ripe, rich harvest of souls; and having become wearied in but not of this excessive labors, they needed help. I went promptly to their assistance, and saw many bow to the Lord in the cause of a few weeks. Some hundreds—I forget how many—in all were added to the army of the faith there during that series of meetings. The number was reported in the various periodicals.

In August of 1836 I was married to Susan Ball of Woodford County, widow of John Ball; which was the cause of my removing the Gospel Advocate to Versailles. This event changed brought about many other changes beside that of I this paper, the raped{rapid} transitions of which I have mentioned. Instead of enlarging the sphere of my usefulness by increasing my facilities for preaching, as I had anticipated it would do, it increased the burden of my cares, and for a time forced me from the field evangelical, in order to carry out the worldly program of my wife, which she had determined upon prior to our marriage, and which was in an attitude not then to be changed. She had through her brother, John Mitchum, verbally contracted for land in Miss. with the view of removing her negroes there and opening a cotton farm. But the writings were not drawn till after our marriage, and could not have been, owing to the fact that the papers were not sent up from Miss. in time. When the agent of the gentleman from whom the land had been purchased came with the papers, he sent for my wife to go over to a neighbor's and get a deed for the land and execute her notes for the purchase money. Instead of going herself, she sent me as her legal representative, with verbal instructions to have the deed made to me and for me to execute my notes for the purchase money. On my inquiring where the money was to come from to meet the notes—the land was bought on credit—she replied she had had an Act passed by the Ky. Legislature authorizing her to sell her farm in Woodford, and to invest the proceeds in part in land in Miss. or elsewhere, and to purchase negroes with the remainder to stock the farm; and that she intended to sell her farm in the fall to meet these ends. Under these circumstances, I in my own name, consummated the purchase.

Sometime early in Oct., I think it was, by her direction I wrote out an advertisement for selling the place, and started to have it published in a Lexington paper. Meeting John Mitchum in Versailles, I as an act of respect to him, showed him the advertisement. After reading it, he said; "Susan cannot sell her farm." I asked him, why not? and told him what she had stated to me about the act of the Legislature, authorizing her to do so—for as yet I had never seen the Act. He told me to go into the County Clerk's office and ask to see a Deed of Trust which she had made just before our marriage, and I would learn all about it. This was the first intimation I had had of the existence of such an instrument, Some weeks before our marriage, she had presented to me a Marriage Contract, and asked me to read. I did so, and asked her if my signing that instrument was the condition of our being married? She inquired why I asked her that question? I answered promptly and emphatically, that, if my signing was to be the condition on which we were to be married, we would never be married; that I would not marry the Queen of England under such circumstances. I had said to her before this that I supposed she was aware that I had no property. She answered, she had enough for us both; that her intention was to marry a man for his own sake, and not for his property.

When I gave her to distinctly understand I would not sign a marriage contract, she tore it up in my presence, and said; "I wish you to know that this was not my suggestion. Some of my friends urged me to name it to you; that it could do no harm. But I was opposed to it, from the first, and I am glad you had the independence to reject it. I will marry you unfettered." The day for our nuptials was then fixed, and we were accordingly married. Everything went on pleasantly until I learned of the existence of the Deed of Trust, and had read that strange instrument. It conveyed to John Mitchum in trust, for the use and benefit of himself and children all her property real and mixed, and gave as her reason for doing it, her contemplated marriage to me. This instrument as I learned afterwards from the witnesses was signed and delivered one hour before we were married! So that I could not by any possibility, become possessed of a knowledge of the transaction. She well knew that, if I found it out, before we were married, I would not marry her.

I was now in a sad predicament. I had executed three {????} several notes for three thousand dollars ($300{sic} each,) payable in one two and three years, with J. Mitchum as my security. Struck me afterwards as peculiarly strange that he, with perfect knowledge of all the facts, should have endorsed my notes. I could explain it only on the ground that he was a party to the fraud that had been perpetrated on me.

On my mentioning to my wife the Deed of Trust, she denied she had executed any such instrument; and when I showed her the copy which I had procured from the Clerk's office, she went into a fit of hysteria, occasioned, as she stated afterwards by a discovery of the insult that had been offered me, and the injury done me, but protested that the fraud had been practiced upon herself as well as on me, overring that her brother & G-C- had deceived her in regard to the nature and influence of the instrument she signed.

My condition was perplexing. 1. I was now indebt $9000 for land that I did not want, and for which I had no use, especially as Mr. M. would not consent for the negroes my wife then owned to be taken to the place. 2. Confidence in my wife's veracity and integrity was materially shaken; for her bro. John M. and both the witnesses stated the Deed was drawn up at her solicitation, and that she had signed it with a full knowledge of its contents and effects; and that the only question with her at the time was whether it was strong enough! While she averred that she signed only because of the importunities of her friends, and that they had deceived in respect to its nature and effects, in fact, that they told her it was a mere form with out any force, just to gratify some of her friends! With this understanding, she signed it.

I at once proposed to Mr. Michum that he should take the land and meet the Notes, which I assured him, and as he knew, I would not be able to do. But this he refused at that time to do. I then looked around and finally found a partner in the person of A. J. Glehinn of Lexington, who agreed to furnish negroes worth $9000 and go in with me in the place as an equal partner. We were to be equal in the expenses in improving the place, feeding and clothing the hands, etc. We spent one year clearing and fencing in one hundred acres, building cabins etc. At which time my first note was unpaid, and I saw no prospect of paying it. Dr. Chim, feeling himself honorably released from the contract with me, asked for a recision. To which I could not but consent. Mr. Mitchum, in the meantime, proposed to take the place and pay all my notes. To this I cheerfully consented. He paid the first and second, but became bankrupt without having paid the third. On this, suit was brought against me, a judgment obtained, and execution issued. This caused me great annoyance, considerable expense, and considerably injured my reputation where the facts were not all known, and crippled my influence. Nor was this the end of the matter. We shall refer to it here­after.

As I was the cause of Dr. C's asking for a rescision of the contract, he required one to pay all the expenses of the place, and the hire of his negroes for one year. I was not exactly able to see the justice of this; but rather than have a difficulty with him and my reputation as a minister sullied, or a doubt to arise in respect to my honor, I paid all he claimed. So much for my not knowing of the existence of the Deed of Trust before I executed my notes for the land in Miss. I carried out my wife's arrangements and wishes, at my own expense and to the injury of myself only. So much, I thought I, for management on one side and none on the other.

Finding that her brother, or rather, that she had tied her own hands in carrying out her intentions, my wife, claiming that her former husband's estate owed her near six thousand dollars, requested me to call a meeting of the County Com.: before whom she persented her vouchers, and got the claim allowed. To enable her to get it out of the estate a Decree of the Circuit Court was necessary. Hence suit was brought; and her brother, the Trustee, admitting the justness of the claim, made no defence, and the Decree was rendered for the amount claimed. But this caused a difficulty afterwards, as I shall have occasion to mention in its proper place.

In the meantime I felt the disgrace of my condition. I was humiliated. A fraud had been practiced upon me. That was clear and universally conceded. But who was the guilty party? This, to my mind, was not so clear. My wife protested her innocence, and her actions corroborated her statement. Else why want me to consummate the purchase of the land in Miss? Why did she marry me, if she did not love me? She supposed I had no property of any description. Why, then, would she knowingly practice such a fraud upon me? Had she done it, she knew I would find it out sooner or later; and knew also, the effect it must have upon me. Then all the other parties averred she did it with her eyes open, and wanted it well done! But I inclined to believe my wife, and resolved to do the best I could; to suffer the disgrace, and to hear the reproach as patiently as possible. Hence for the sake of Christianity, I suffered my mental agony. At one time seriously meditated whether I should leave her at once, rather than suffer the disgrace and agony of my condition. I had a legal right to abandon her on account of the "marital fraud" practiced upon me. But several difficulties interposed. 1. I was not certain that she intended to practice the fraud; 2. I was doubtful whether it would not injure my influence more to separate than to live with her, unless the world was fully advised of all the facts. This information I was unwilling to give. About this time I ascertained She was a woman. So, upon the whole, I decided, of the two evils, to choose the one that, at the time, to be the less. And, in truth, notwithstanding all, I loved her, and for this reason I had married her.

In autumn of 1837, at the suggestion of my wife, we rented out her place in Woodford for the term of five years, and being called to the charge of the Church in Lex. with the offer of four hundred dollars ($400) we removed to that city, and I entered at once upon my labors. After the first year they increased my salary to six hundred dollars. In the meantime many were added to the church, and the cause we advocated stood higher in public esteem. From this point I visited the churches around Versailles, New Union, Winchester, Paris, etc., etc., and many were added to the Lord. At a meeting in Paris bro. Dearborn, now Pres. of Princeton College, obeyed the gospel. Brother Johnson and I paid a visit to Flemingsburg, at the solicitation of a bro. Dr. McGuire and baptized about 40, among whom was my bro. Nathaniel P. Hall, then an elder in the Presbyterian Church, and his two daughters. They have all fallen asleep in Jesus, waiting for the trumpet-peal that shall call them up in the first resurrection.

By Consent of the Lexington Congregation, I spent one Lord’s {Day} at David's Fork, and was invited to preach at night in the house of a member of the Baptist Church. This gentleman was teaching a female school at the time. His pupils were generally present, as were also many of his neighbors, old and young. I discoursed on Eccl. 12:1-"Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth," or, I saw that many wept, especially the young. They seemed to be deeply moved. Notwithstanding I was in the house of a Baptist. I felt it my duty to invite persons to confess the Lord. I accordingly gave an invitation. While the song was being sung, I noticed a conversation going on between the Professor and one of his pupils, a young lady about fourteen years old. They simultaneously rose up, she took his arm, and he led her forward to confess the Lord. Before the meeting closed that winter night, thirteen others—one young man and thirteen young ladies, followed the example of that young lady, whose name was Louisa. All were immersed next morning in a beautiful pond, in a blue-grass pasture, after breaking the ice, which was about an inch thick, We returned to the house, we all dined with the new-made disciples and others.

When about to leave for home that afternoon, the gentlemanly and christian Principal called in my young sisters to take leave of me. When Louisa reached me her hand, she said, "Farewell, Brother B. I wish you would come to Cxxxxxxxxx and preach. I think you could do a great deal of good there." The manner in which she addressed me, calling me brother; although she belonged to a family, not one of which—father, mother, sister or brother—was a member of any religious society, and she but just introduced into the kingdom of Messiah; —the tone of her voice her pleasant and animated countenance; the anxiety she manifested for the community in which she lived; all struck me so forcibly, and so won upon my heart, that I replied promptly: "I will be pleased and indeed, delighted to do so, and, the Lord permitting, will, provided you will attend the meeting and help me to convert your friends." I paused. She hesitated; her eyes were cast down and suffused with tears. For a few moments all was silence—not a word was spoken by any one present. Then lifting her eyes and fixing them modestly but steadily on her teacher, she answered: "I will be delighted to attend the meeting, if Mr. T. will allow me to do so; but I am sorry to say I cannot render you any aid in the meeting. I wish I could, but cannot." Her eyes were still fixed on her teacher, and she was evidently waiting in deep anxiety to hear what he would say to her suggestion. Turning to her, he said, "I will not only permit you to go. Louisa, but I myself will attend the meeting, and take with me all the young ladies I can." "Then," said the delighted Louisa, "give me the appointment, and I will send it by my father this evening." The place was only a few miles distant, and her father had been sent for, and had come to see his daughter baptized and intended to return home that evening.

The appointment was accordingly made, as I looked upon it as Providential. A few Christians lived in and around the village; but it was a neighborhood noted for infidelity, universalism, and dissipation. I reached the place in time to meet my appointment, and found a good audience in attendance, and Louisa among them, together with her teacher and a number of the pupils.

The meeting went on two or three days without any confessions, although the attendance was large, attention fine, and the interest evidently deepening. One morning at the close of the discourse, many were in tears. An invitation was given, and a song commenced. Louisa, who was sitting midway of the house, rose to her feet, walked down the isle, and, going up to an elderly lady, and falling upon her knees before her, threw her arms around her neck. For some time they wept in each other's embraces. Suddenly Louisa sprang to her feet, and led forward her dear old mother to confess the Savior. Her father was sitting in another part of the house, weeping like a man! Louisa started for him, but met her teacher who said: "Your father says he will not come now," But he came the next day, as did also two of her brothers and afterwards her only sister. All the family became obedient to the faith; and ere the meeting closed upwards of fifty joined the army of the faith—all directly or remotely influenced to do so by the example or solicitations of Louisa. Nor did her influence end with that meeting. It continues to this day, and eternity alone will reveal the good which that one little saint has done, and is still doing.

Alas! we have very few Louisas now. Would there were more! Will not some dear little girls who may read this story, become a Louisa?

I was desirous to see young men entering the ministry, and found the affairs of the church life-minded. They told me if I could find any young man in the church that I thought would make a preacher, they would board him among them, and pay his tuition and send him to school. We had quite a number of young brethren members of the church. I was still looking around to find one or more that I thought might succeed. One night a social meeting, after several had prayed, an invitation was given to anyone who might feel disposed to do so, to come forward and read and pray. After a short pause a rather obscure young man, Robert G. Rice, came forward and under great embarrassment, read a chapter rather badly, and prayed. He was much confused. He choked, and hesitated, mumbled his words; spoke as though his mouth was full. His lips and tongue were dry. He concluded. I had already, before he had blundered through his prayer, fixed upon him for a preacher. He seemed so humble, so earnest, so devout, that, although I did not suppose he would make a great preacher, he might make a good pastor, and we needed many such to take charge of our churches.

Soon as meeting (sic) was dismissed, I reached my hand to the young brother, and told him I wished to see him at my house next morning. He swallowed, and with evident confusion inquired, at what hour? I replied: "At nine o'clock", and bade him good night, as he told me he would come.

Next morning I sat in my study absorbed in an interesting subject. The bell rang. A servant entered my room and informed me Mr. Rice wished to see me. "Invite him into my room," I said, scarcely remembering the engagement. I told him to be seated, and began to talk in such a way as to remove his embarrassment. Finally, I asked him how he would like to be a preacher? After some hesitation, he said, to be a preacher and a useful man, was his most ardent desire; that he had sometime been thinking how he could accomplish his object; but that so many difficulties presented themselves before him, he had finally almost concluded to abandon the attempt altogether. He stated he was poor; was a journeyman saddler; had but little education, and saw no prospect of rising above his present condition. I told him we would educate him, and board him while going to school. Some of his difficulties were removed; but there was one that was insurmountable which had not been mentioned. I insisted on his naming it, which he hesitated to do, but finally told me he was engaged to be married and mentioned the young lady's name. She lived near by in the city. I insisted he should go at once and tell her all, and request that their marriage be postponed until he had done going to school, at least. He saw her, and like a good woman, she unhesitatingly agreed to the proposition. Soon everything was settled, he would furnish his own clothes by working at his trade of Saturdays. A brother Todd would give him his tuition, and the brethren would board him.

He was soon at School, and learning finely, He studied English Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, etc., etc.

In the meantime a bro. G. N. Gaines concluded he also would prepare for the ministry. He had a fair English education, and commenced a course of Biblical study, reading Horn's Int. to the study of the Scriptures. Soon bro. Rice was ready to enter upon the same studies. As bro. G. was through a vol. bro. R. was ready to take it up.

While engaged in their studies, I would take them with me to meetings around in the country. They would sing, and pray, and exhort, and contributed much to the successful results of our meetings. Their hearts were in the work.

After reading with me about twelve months, bro. Gaines went to Mo. and Bro. R. to Scott Co. under instruction of the beloved Johnson. Both became eminent and useful preachers. Bro. R. and I have held many successful meetings together. At one of these meetings in Henry County, bro. W. T. Moore; now of Cin. was converted and was baptized by one of us—I forget which.

While I was in Lex. the question of ordination by imposition of hands was sprung, which for a time created considerable excitement, and alienated the feelings of some brethren. I was for the ordination, which created dissatisfaction on the part of some; and although the breach was healed, I felt cramped, thinking some of the church were not entirely satisfied. To remove all hinderances{sic} to a more perfect union, I resigned the care of the Church about the middle of the third year; and having been invited to hold a meeting with the church in Louisville, I was called to the pastorship of that Church, in the spring of 1840.

During my ministry in Lex. something over one hundred were added to the church, and a large proportion of them of the more intelligent part of the citizinz. (sic) I labored hard for the church and received small compensation in the way of support. But I do not complain. I look for my reward in another life. Still the laborer is worthy of his pecuniary reward.

While in Lexington I was attacked with a very painful affection of the stomach, which came on in irregular paraxisms. I consulted several physicians. Some pronounced it one thing and some another. Their suggested treatment was as different as their diagnosis. All, however, recommended light diet. This I adopted; and, finally, reduced it to Boston crackers and "tea-kettle tea", and occasionally a glass of sweet milk. This was my principal diet for about two and a half years. Under this regime I lost almost entirely any inclination to eat, and regretted when I was summoned to my meals. My mental vision became clearer than it had ever been; and I was enabled, during this period, to perform more mental labor than I had ever done before, or than I have done since. The best productions of my life were written during this period. I preached and wrote out fifty discourses on the truth and Divine authenticity of the Bible. Each discourse consisted of one argument and each argument was based on an obvious and universally conceded fact. The first was based on the following: The idea of one only living and true God, self-existent, immutable, unchangeable, and eternal, is in the world. Nay, it is an idea in the minds of most men. This is universally conceded. The question is, how did this idea enter into the world? To this question but three answers can be given. 1. That it entered into the minds of men by the aid of vaccination {???} by the process of reasoning. This I denied. To sustain my position, I showed that reason was not an inventive faculty; that it had to do with known truths and facts. This point I argued at length.

The second answer to the question: How did the idea of a self-existent, uncaused, eternal and immutable first cause of all things enter into the human mind? is, By Imagination. This l denied, and argued at some length. The Third answer to the question, is by Revelation.

Having reached this conclusion, I closed the argument for that time, and resumed it in the next discourse under the proposition: The idea that this One God has made a revelation, is in the world; and the question arises: How did this idea obtain?

In this way I proceeded through fifty arguments. But these discourses, and two vols. of sermons and a work of some 600 pages nearly completed on the Divine Law of Progress, etc., etc. were all consumed by fire in Texas. This last work I had undertaken at the suggestion of brother A. Campbell. After these papers were destroyed, I could never reproduce them. In that Conflagration the labors of nearly twenty years of the best part of my life were destroyed and will never be reproduced.

But to resume the thread of my narrative. In the spring of (1840) as above stated, I removed with my family to Louisville, KY. to take charge of the Church of Christ in that city, which then met on 5th St. but now occupies a house on the corner of 4th and Walnut.

The church at that time was in a rather depressed condition, owing to some difficulties which had sprung up among them, and which resulted in the withdrawal of a small party from the church. In these circumstances I began my labors among. In a short time some of the disaffected returned to the church, but others, headed by Dr. T. S. Bell, continued to hold separate meetings during the period of my stay in the city—two years and a half. My labors here were excessive.

I made it a rule to visit every member of the Church, or all the families, once in three months. I took them by streets. As they were much scattered, I had to do a great deal of walking.

The following is a program of the work which I inaugurated:

1. I arose early in the morning, had family worship and breakfast, and three times in the week was at market by day dawn.

2. Immediately on my return entered my study, where I read and wrote till dinner, at 1 o'clock, p.m.

3. After dinner till late in the afternoon, I visited the members and others.

4. Monday night conducted the Bible-Class at the Church.

5. Tuesday night attended social meeting in the upper part of the city.

6. Wednesday night attended social meeting at the Church.

7. Thursday night met with the social meeting in the lower part of the city.

8. Friday night met the singing class at the Church.

9. Preached Lord's day morning and night, and in the afternoon, met with the Church to break the loaf, etc.

 

The result of this procedure was—

1. The addition of some 160 to the church under my labors and the assistance of others, during the two and a half years.

2. Many of the young brethren and others conducted the Social meetings by reading the scriptures, prayers and exhortations.

3. Every family in the Church had family worship.

4. The piety of the Church was much improved.

 

During the time I remained in Louisville, I preached frequently on Beargrass at the house of Brother Alfred Herr, some 6 miles from the city, and immersed about 60 persons, and constituted a church. They built them a neat brick Church-house and continue to meet and keep the ordinances.

I held several meetings at Brevenerstoven, some 12 miles from the city, and added a number to the Church. I paid several visits to Jeffersonville and New Albany, La.{Ind.} and baptized many. I visited several other places and gained many to the Lord.

During my stay in Louisville, the church paid me punctually one thousand dollars per annum, in four equal installments. Peace and harmony prevailed in the Church. They were strongly attached to me, and I loved them greatly.

In the fall of 1843, owing to circumstances which I have never explained except to a few brethren confidently, I tendered to the Church my resignation. They were astonished and grieved when I announced my intention to leave them. They wished to know my reason, but I could not give it. They asked if my salary was not large enough? I told them it barely supported me, but that that was not the cause of my leaving them. Many were hurt at my leaving them, they have not got over it to this day.

On leaving Louisville, we returned to my wife's farm in Woodford County, Ky. 5 miles south of Versailles.

Shortly afterwards I engaged to preach once a month for the celebrated old Caneridge Church. I also preached at other places. All Lord's days were occupied somewhere.

My domestic troubles increased. My wife proposed to me to relinquish all my interest in her farm and other property; and suggested that I should take my two daughters by my first marriage, and support myself and them and educate them, and that she would support and educate our three children. I told her what would be the consequences of such a course; That it would compell me to be the most of my time from home; that I should be compelled to resume the practice of Dentistry; and that it would soon be reported that we had separated. But she persisted in her determination and resolved to carry out her measures regardless of consequences. Pride and a feeling of self-respect induced me finally to consent to her proposition.

After travelling around some time, preaching and practicing my profession, at which I made a good living, she proposed to me to settle in Lexington and practice Dentistry, proposing, if I would do so, she would come up in the fall and live there with me. Anxious to have my family with me, I consented to the arrangement. I accordingly opened an office in Lexington, and visited her in Woodford generally every week. Months passed, and she repeatedly put off the time appointed to come to Lexington; and, finally, near the end of the year, informed me she would not come at all!

I knew it would not do for me to live in Lexington and her in Woodford; so I sold out at considerable sacrifice, and again commenced travelling around, preaching and practicing.

1844 Nashville

The next spring, she proposed for me to settle in Nashville, Ten. and practice Dentistry, promising to come and live with me there the ensuing autumn. Anxious to be settled and to be with my family, I consented to do so. I accordingly went to Nashville, rented a house, and furnished it at considerable expense, and opened an office. I soon got a fine practice, and made money. Early in the winter she came down and stayed about six weeks. One day she told me she intended to return home to Ky. the next day. This information astounded me. I asked her if she was not at home? She answered no; that her home was in Ky. and that she intended to go to it never to return to Nashville! I reasoned; I expostulated with her, all to no purpose. She was settled in her determination, and carried it out.

There I was in Nashville with my two daughters, and my wife in Ky! I was miserable beyond expression. What should I do? I could not remain there; that would not do. But what to do, I could not determine.

In this state of unrest, I was notified that I was appointed to a professorship in the Medical College in Memphis. Owing to a disease of the throat, I was unable to preach much. So I concluded to accept the appointment. But as I had been some years out of the profession, I concluded to go to Phileo. and attend a summer course of Sutures, and brighten and post-op. I did accordingly. I received a diploma from the Philadelphia College of Medicine, and also one from Dr. Meigs and Warrington as an obstitrician.

In the meantime I was informed by the Trustees of the Memphis School that things would not be ready to open the School that fall, and receiving a letter from Aberdeen, Miss. to come there and debate with a Universalist; I sent up my resignation to the Trustees in Memphis, and wrote that I would be in Aberdeen in October to hold the debate.

I returned to Ky. and remained a few weeks with my family, and took the stage for Nashville, where were my daughters. It was my intention to take them with me as far as their grand-father Chrisholm's near Florence, Ala. But they preferred to remain in Nashville. So I purchased a horse and buggy, and set out for Aberdeen, which I reached in due time; met my opponent, settled preliminaries, and held a six days discussion—the third one with Universalists.

Among the preaching brethren I met at Aberdeen were, bro. Caskey of Mis. and A. Graham of Marian, Ala. At the solicitation of the latter, bro Caskey and myself agreed to visit Marion. On our way we held a meeting at Clinton, Ala. and gained some fifteen to the cause of truth. A few became obedient to the truth in Marion.

Brother Caskey had a string of appointments extending from Palo Alto, Miss, to Jackson, and by his request, I accompanied him. In Jackson several obeyed the gospel.

While at Jackson, I learned the Colera{sic} was in New Orleans; and never having seen a case of this mysterious malady, I concluded to visit the city and learn what I could of the feel destroyer. Leaving my horse and buggy with brother Gen. Clark in Jackson, I took the cars for Vicksburg, and there a steamboat for New Orleans. On my arrival in the city I first sought a hotel, and next the Colera wards of the City Hospital. Here I found the Colera in all its stages, and in its terrible malignity. Obtaining the assistance of three able physicians and good anatomists, I commenced investigation into the disease. We were two weeks in the hospital, dissecting a subject every day, making observations and taking notes of each case. At the expiration of this period, we were just as wise and knew about as much of the Colera as we did in the beginning.

While in New Orleans, I was frequently in the office of Warrick Martin, an exchange broker. At his suggestion I concluded to pay a prospecting visit to Texas with view of locating lands in the State. I accordingly took a Steamer for Galveston. The second night after my arrival in Galveston, I had an attack of Colera, but was relieved by the timely aid of a physician, who was my travelling companion. In a few days I was able to take a steamer for Arkansas Pass, the inlet to Corpus Christe{sic}. I landed on Indian Island, where I had another attack of Colera, but relieved myself with medicine prepared for me by my physician in Galveston. There were but two families living on this island, and they were not on speaking terms.

In a few days I had recovered sufficiently to be able to go in a sail-boat to Sarnar, a small village at the head of Arkansas Bay, where I found a family from Ky. who extended to me their hospitality, feeding me on fine fat oysters and red fish, and excellent fresh water that gushed up, bubbling from the very edge of the salt water Bay.

After exploring the country around Aransas{Arkansas} and Espano Bay, and Live-oak Point, I set out on horseback for the lower San Antonio. Here I spent a few days exploring the country around the mouth of the river and Hine's Bay. During a few days here I saw more wild ducks, geese and Swans than I had seen before in All my life.

I then went up the river to Goliad, where I visited Labarde, the old Spanish mission, where Fannin and his men were massacred by order of Santaria. Their bones were still exposed, bleaching, all around the mission on the prairie. They have since been gathered up and interred. Many a poor young man who left the States full of hope, inspired with shilvalary fell in that massacre, far from home and friends, and none to bury him.

From Goliad I went across, some thirty miles to Victoria on the Gaudaloupe, where I took the stage for the city of San Antonio.

On the way from Goliad to Victoria, I passed the place where Fannin was surprised and captured by the Mexicans.

On the way to San Antonio, I passed through Gonzalles, and several other beautiful towns on the Gaudaloupe. San Antonio is a beautiful city near the head of the river of the same name. At the time of my visit, in the winter of 1848-49, The inhabitants were fully half Mexicans. In one part of the city is the celebrated Alamo where Crocket, Travis, Bowie and others were slaughtered by Mexicans. I visited the place and saw the breack in the thick wall through which the Mexicans entered; and was shown the spot where Crocket fought and fell defending himself, single-handed against a multitude of savage foes; also the little room in which Bowie lay sick, and where he was butchered by blood-thirsty Mexicans. From San Antonio I took the stage to Austin.

During my travels I had ascertained there were great quantities of fine vacant lands in Texas; and all that was necessary to enter them was to purchase Headrights and file upon them, and these could be purchased at from 6 to 8 cents per acre. I had learned also that there were many spurious Headrights, and that land titles were uncertain owing to conflicting claims, spurious Headrights, and numerous other causes; and that, in order to locate lands in Texas with safety, one must understand the complicated land laws Coahula and Texas, the land laws of the Republic of Texas, and of the State of Texas. He must also have a book containing an abstract of the different classes of headrights, besides a vast amount of other information in regard to men, laws, fixed customs, frauds, etc. etc. Meeting at Austin with two lawyers originally from Ky. Judge Jennings and Mr. Alexander, and informing them of my wish to locate lands in Texas, they generously loaned me the requisite books and kindly offered me their aid in obtaining the necessary information. I, therefore, quietly sat down to the study of Texas land-laws, etc. under their direction. Mr. Alexander charged me nothing for the use of his books and the information which he imparted. Judge Jennings, boarding at the same house I did, required that I should copy his "briefs" in land cases in the Supreme Court. This was of great service to me, as it enabled me to see many points of importance in the land laws of the Country.

After I had read and been examined on the terms which they had informed me I had to master, they pronounced me qualified to ferret out the difficult problems of the science, and the questions that might arise in my path. I therefore set out for New Orleans via Houston & Galveston. On my arrival in New Orleans, I reported progress to my friend, W. Martin. He was so well satisfied with the information I gave him that he proposed to furnish me with money to purchase Head right certificates, and locate lands in Texas. Furnished with two thousand dollars ($2000) I took a steamer for Galveston, and in that city and Houston purchased some twenty one thousand seven hundred acres (21700) of unlocated Headrights, and repaired to Northern Texas, and located the whole amount in the Counties of Grayson and Dallas, and had them surveyed and the Headrights and field notes filed in the Gen. Land Office, Austin by the 1st Jan. 1850.

While looking for lands, I was the greater part of the time alone, in an uninhabited country. My diet was cold corn bread, midling bacon and cold water. My bed was the grass on the prairies. The sentinels that kept watch around me were wolves, whose hidious{sic} howl was my lull-a-bye. My horse was my one companion. My weapons of defense were a five shooter, a hack-knife and hatchut{sic}. My dress was buck-skin. Thus armed and equipped, I paraded over the broad prairies by day and by night. Frequently I was wet for days together from drenching rains and swimming swollen streams. Once four of us together were met in the edge of a prairie by about seventy Indians, while we were nooning and taking our lunch. The one who seemed to be the Chief, demanded, in English, first our dinner, and this being refused, next my horse. This was also denied him. I stood upon a rock, gun in hand, and putting on a bold countence, {sic} in a decided tone, bade them to leave instantly. The leader heard me through my speech, then turning to his men, jabbered to them a little, whirled his horses' head to the front, adjusted himself in his saddle, and struck off in a Southwest direction. No sooner were they out of sight than we set out in a different direction. We saw no more of them. That was one time in my life that I "whisled{sic} aloud to keep my courage up."

The following winter I spent in Austin getting a certain measure passed by the Legislature. Not a man, save one, knew or suspected my business. I preached regularly every Lord's day either in the Legislative Hall, or in the Senate Chamber. I made many friends and some enemies. A Banker in New Orleans promised me, if I would go to Austin, and get a certain act passed by the Legislature, and get the Governor's signature to the Bill, he would give me half he made by the operation. The thing was right in itself, and a contrary action by the State Legislature, would have a reproach to the State in all future time. The Banker acknowledged to me he had made sixty thousand dollars ($60000) by the act; but instead of paying me the half of that sum, put me off with six hundred ($600) dollars!!

On reaching New Orleans on my way home to Ky., I learned that Brethren J. T. Johnson and Dearbourn were holding a meeting in Baten Louse{sic}. I called and preached a few times, when Bro. Johnson returned with me to Ky. I was taken sick on the way; and when I reached Versailles, was much reduced, and looked badly. I learned my wife was in town. She had come in a carriage, drawn by a pair of dapple gray horses, all of which I had bought with my own money and given to her. I started to hunt her, but was too feeble to walk. A friend, seeing my debility, kindly proposed to go and bring her to me. She came, and informed me she was not yet ready to go home, and that there was not room in the carriage for me—although there were only herself and daughter—and that I had better hire a buggy and go out home! I did so. She returned home about dusk. Next day I was quite sick; but as she had a visit in view left me and two daughters—good girls—to wait on me.

In a few days I learned that the eight thousand ($8000) dollars that had been awarded to me by Wooley & Johnson she had brought suet for; and under one pretext and another, and as I made no defense, she succeeded in getting set over to herself and our three children!! The decree of the court is now to be seen, together with her reasons for asking for the action. Many of her statements on record were news to me. Others I knew to be mistaken. Some I could prove by documentary evidence, to be erroneous. But I suppose her attorney made out the case for her! Unless my friends choose to set this matter right when I am gone, I will let it rest until all mistakes shall be rectified by a tribunal from which there will be no appeal.

Soon as my friends in different parts of the State heard I had returned to Ky. I was written to hold meetings at various points. I spent the greater part of the summer in protracted meetings, until autumn, when I set out in a buggy to see after my interests in Texas. On reaching Memphis, I was told by brother S. Bradford, whom I had formerly known in Nashville, that he had been praying for me to come to Memphis to hold a meeting for them. I had promised a Ky. friend to wait for him in Memphis, as he wished to accompany me to Texas. So I commenced preaching of nights, but to rather slim audiences at first. The number of hearers, however, increased, and by Lord's day a rather small house was comfortably full. In a short time the house was so crowded the foundation began to give way. Great excitement was the result. Some ladies screamed; one or two fainted; several persons jumped out of the windows, and others were injured in the rush for the door. Quiet was ultimately restored, and the services resumed. Assurances were given publically that by the next evening everything would be made secure, which was accordingly done. By this time not half the people who came could get into the house, which stood on the corner of two streets, running at right angles. Hundreds stood on the outside of the house in the streets and listened to whole discourses. The desire to hear became general in the city. Church-houses belonging to the different parties were applied for, but none granted, until the 2nd Lord's day, when Hughtower Hall was obtained—the largest house in the city. It was an upper room, and was densely crowded before the preaching hour. Hundreds who came were unable to obtain entrance. Fears were entertained by many lest the floor should give way, but it did not. It was announced in the morning that that nights' services would close the series of meetings.

I preached eighteen days, generally twice a day and often administered baptism besides. Some were immersed the next morning before I left. Forty seven in all were immersed during the meeting. Monday I set out for Texas via Little Rock, accompanied by my Kentucky friend. This was in the fall of 1850.

At Little Rock I found a number of my old friends still alive and holding on their way, bent heavenward, but many had gone to their reward. I preached a few times for them and resumed my journey towards Texas.

I stopped in Titus County, Texas, and held a meeting with the Brethren there; several became obedient to the faith.

I remained in Texas and returned to Memphis. On reaching the city, I learned to my great joy that brethren Johnson and Dearbourn were there holding a meeting. I hastened directly to the Church and found brother Dearbourn preaching. At the close of the services, I had a happy greeting with them and many of my Memphis friends. I remained a few days and accepted a call from the church to preach for them one year, and hastened on to Ky.

During my first meeting in Memphis, I delivered a discourse on the four baptisms. This discourse was heard by a Methodist preacher, who undertook to answer it in a discourse in the Methodist Church. He had his sermon written out and read it. Some one, as was supposed, appointed for the purpose, arose at the conclusion of the reading, and asked, in behalf of the Methodist Church, a copy for publication. I returned to Memphis the following week. Brethren consulted me in regard to the publication of my discourse which had provoked the review. I informed them the discourse was written out, and needed only a little revising to be ready for the printer. At a night meeting fifty dollars were raised to publish a thosand{sic} copies. It was published accordingly. This is, in brief, the history of the publication of that discourse. The pretended review never saw the light. The Mass was strangely lost between the committee and the printer.

During my stay in Memphis, the notorious Mr. Chapman, the Methodist champion of Pedorantism, published in a secular city paper a challenge to me to debate the subject of baptism. Through the same paper, I accepted his challenge, provided the debate should not come off before Oct. He accepted the time. We met and settled the preliminaries and fixed the time. We agreed to use no authority except the New Testament. Sunday before the debate was to commence on Monday at Gorlack A.M. notice was given in all the churches of the discussion. At the hour designated, I went to the place of meeting with my New Testament and notes. On reaching the Methodist Church where Mr. Chapman was the stationed preacher, I found the door closed and locked, and could see nothing of Mr. Chapman. Soon one of his friends appeared and announced to the confused audience, in a whirl in the streets, that Mr. Chapman was not in the city, and that the Trustees of the Church had decided that no debate should be held! Thus ended the affair with Mr. Chapman. Some of the Methodists stated afterwards that Mr. Chapman was foolish for agreeing to be confined to the New Testament; that no man could sustain infant sprinkling by the New Testament alone. I was, and am still, of the same opinion.

During the hot, dry month of August, a Dr. Henderson, a Methodist preacher at the other station in Memphis, in a discourse on Lord's day morning challenged me to a debate with him, provided the discussion should come off the next week. I accepted, On the Monday morning of the next week, the discussion commenced, and continued day and night until the next Saturday night. The next day Dr. Henderson was unable to preach, I preached as usual, and received the confession of twelve young men. Dr. Henderson lingered on for some time and died.

Before the close of my first year in Memphis, I was chased{????} for another year, and accepted. About the middle of the year my health failed, and I was forced to resign. I then returned with my family to Kentucky, where I regained my health.

The next spring—1853 nothing would do my wife but to visit Texas. Accordingly, after the close of the Revision{Bible Revision Society} meeting in Louisville, the 1st of April, we took our departure for the floral south. We cane by boat to Jefferson; thence to Clarksville in a hack. Travelling one way and another, we passed through Paris, Honey Grove, Bonhan, and on to Grayson County, where my land principally lay. But she liked none of this part of the country, not even Mormon Grove, the half of which I had promised to give if she would consent to come to Texas. We next went to Dallas, and on to Austin; thence to Gonzales and down to Powderhorn, when we took a steamship for New Orleans via Gavelston{Galveston}. She said if I would purchase land somewhere between the Gaudaloupe and the San Antonio rivers, she would be willing to come to Texas. This I did not, at the time, feel prepared to do.

On our return to Ky. the Missionary Board appointed me agent to organize District Co-operation meetings in the Louisville Congressional District. I accepted, and entered at once upon the work. My first meeting was at Eminence on the 4th day of July 1853. I next held a meeting of days at Lagrange, which resulted in thirty five accessions to the cause of Christ. My next was at the mouth of Salt river, where we gained thirteen.

The State meeting was to come off in Oct. at Harrodsburg. I had been appointed by the Board to read a paper on Cooperation. It was written in piece-meals, as I could snatch an hour or so from my excessive labors. Brother W. T. Moore accompanied me during these labors. It was the beginning of his public labors. He aided much by his fine singing, exhortations and prayers.

At the State Meeting I was appointed General Agent to organize District meetings through the State, but declined in view of the labor, and because they did not offer me enough to justify my undertaking the work. I was then appointed Agent for the Orphan School, and set out to obtain funds to educate and support the female orphans of the State.

Among the first points I visited was Cynthiana, where I held a meeting of days, added several to the church, and obtained some funds for the Orphan School. Christmas week I spent in Flemingsburg, preaching and collecting funds for orphans. The weather was intensely cold, and the ground covered with snow. Yet the house was crowded every night, and extra seats had to be procured, and the isles filled with them to accommodate the people. Still only some ten or twelve persons became obedient to the faith.

On this tour I met with the amiable and earnest John Rogers, who intimated to me that the compensation he received for preaching was not sufficient to support his family, and that he would like to have such an agency as mine. I told him I would resign my position in his favor, and did so, and recommended him to the Board. They appointed him.

Learning that I had resigned my agency for the Orphan School, the Missionary State Board tendered to me the general agency for the State with the same salary which I had received from the Orphan School. I accepted, and early in the spring set out for the Green river country to preach and organize Cooperation meetings. The spring was backward and wet and the streams swollen from excessive and continued rains. It was late before I could open the campaign. And just as I was getting fairly into the work, I was attacked with inflammation of the throat resulting in such hoarseness as rendered me unable to preach. Hence I felt it my duty to the Board and to the cause which lay so near their hearts—the Cooperation of the Churches throughout the State in Missionary work—to resign my position, and give them an early opportunity to appoint another agent.

As summer approached, the condition of my throat improved, and I was able to do some preaching. Towards fall some brethren in Chicago induced me to visit that city with the view of getting money to build a church-house in that growing and import place. They sent me on a few weeks mission to the interior of the State to see whether the churches would aid them in building a house for the Lord in the Emporium of their great State. I returned with a favorable report, and then went home for a few days, and proceeded to meet the Congress of the brethren in the Queen of the West.

On my return home from that meeting, my wife informed me she would not go to Chicago. I, therefore, wrote to the brethren of Chicago, stating the fact, and, in consequence, resigning my Agency for the Church there.

I was now upon my oars, knowing not what to do. My wife seemed not to consent to anything I proposed. She had virtually exiled me from home; had, in fact, given up her home and divided out her property among her first children, retaining for herself and our three children only the eight thousand dollars she had induced the court to take from me and give to her. She was now living among her children, and I was afloat.

While resting and reflecting on my condition, and thinking what I should do, I received two letters, nay, three. One tendering me a situation in Cincinnati with a salary of twelve hundred dollars; another the agency of the Missionary Society with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars; and the third inviting me to Memphis with the promise of a thousand dollars. My wife objected to my accepting either of the first or second propositions, but insisted on my taking the last. Why, I never knew. But I had to yield, and accordingly set out for Memphis and entered upon my labors in the latter part of Nov. 1854. My wife was to have come down in December, but did not reach there until February.

In the early part of summer my health began to decline, and I was anxious to go to Texas. My wife seemed almost persuaded to comply with my desire. Her son, William, and her daughter, Mrs. Gray, hearing of it, came down from Ky. to dissuade her from going, and persuaded her to return to Ky. I still continued my labors in Memphis, but in bad health. Sometime in Aug. my health became so poor, I was forced to resign and quit the city. In the mean time my wife wrote me from Ky, that, if I would go to Southwestern Texas, purchase a place, build a house and make preparations for her, she would be willing to go to Texas.

I purchased a horse and buggy and set out for Ky. by way of Florence, Ala. to see my widowed daughter, Mrs. Peabody, and Nashville, Ten. to see my brother, Dr. B. W. Hall. I then went on to see my wife and children in Woodford Co. Ky.; and after remaining there several days, my wife still adhering to her written proposition, I took leave and returned to Memphis; and on the {??} day of October 1855, in company with several families, crossed the broad and turbied Mississippi on our way to Texas. About the 1st of December we reached Mission Valley, on the Gaudaloupe, in Victoria County. During the winter I purchased land on the Cabasa, in Galiad County, and early in the spring of 1856 commenced building a house. By early autumn of 1856, I had the house built and forty acres of land fenced in and broken up, a cistern dug, and numerous other improvements made.

From the time of my second marriage I had not been a free man, nor had I been the head of my family. I had been subject to the will and pleasure of another, who never consulted desires, nor my interests, temporal nor spiritual, She had her property and I had mine, and the laws of Texas resputed and protected the rights of each and of both. From the day that I identified my interests with the "Lone Star," I determined to be the head of my family, and to have a will of my own. To prevent all difficulty on this subject in future I informed my wife of these facts and my determination by letter. I told her also that I would have nothing to do with her separate property; that she must manage that herself or get some one else to do it for her. I told her that my widowed daughter, Mrs. Peabody, would live with us, and that she must be treated with the respect due a lady, and as my daughter. I finally wrote her the house and all were ready, for her to come on. In reply she wrote me eight pages of cap paper full of the most abusive and insulting matter, and in conclusion told me she had never intended to come to Texas! She gave Cap, G. W. Cassleman a power of Attorney to take all my household goods—indeed, everything I had—and to take them back to Ky. I consulted some of my friends, who advised me to open the boxes and trunks, and to request their ladies to look them all over, and to divide the whole equally between my wife and myself. I did so. They then had the boxes nailed up with my name on mine, and my wife's name on hers. I informed Capt. Cassleman of this division. But in my absence he took all the boxes and trunks and sent them to powderhorn to be shipped to Ky. On my return to Victoria, I had nothing there! Even a silk quilt which had been made and presented to me by the ladies in Memphis, went with the rest!

Learning from Capt. Casslemen that my wife seemed distressed, and that he thought she was sorry for the letter she had written me; I wrote her a kind, respectful letter, stating that I would consult her interests and seek to promote her happiness, and taking back any and every thing I had written her to which she had taken exception, and promising her, as I had always done, to treat her kindly and as my beloved wife. She spoke to some of her friends of the receipt of this letter, but never answered it. She was advised, in writing, by several brethren in Ky. either to come to Texas, or to request me to return to Ky. But she would do neither. My eldest son, Benjamen, wrote his mother urging her for the sake of her children to come to Texas. In reply, she wrote him a bitter, insulting letter, and told him not to presume to counsel her, but to attend to his own business! This was the last communication I ever saw or heard of coming from her to any one in Texas. I never knew her to express regret or to ask pardon for anything she ever did or said, or to revoke a decree she had ever made. She was a woman of strong will, great firmness, proud, ardently in love with money, secretive, revengeful, and bitter in hate; but withal, possessed of many fine traits and excellences of character. She would have been a good wife to a man who could have bowed willingly to her dictates and worked to carry out her will and pleasure. But, unfortunately (?) I was not that kind of a man.

Owing to my second marriage my life has been a sad disappointment. Unhappy, miserable, as I was, I would, for the sake of the cause which I love dearer than my life, have continued to love her during life, had she not cast me off. For years she had tried to get rid of me by one method and another; and, finally succeeded by getting me off to Texas with the promise to come, and then declining to request me to return to Ky. This unfortunate affair has greatly crippled my influence for good, and will be the cause of my sun's going down under a cloud.

The summer after I settled on the Cabada in Texas, the brethren concluded to hold a Camp-meeting, as the country was sparsely settled and the brotherhood much scattered. The time and place were announced some time beforehand in the secular papers. As they meant to have a good thing of it, and intended to have all things in common, they purchased one or more sacks of coffee, two or three barrels of sugar, several barrels of flour, and other things in proportion. Each family purchased as many bolts of domestic as would make all the tints he desired. Some days before the meeting was to commence quite a number of men met at the place in a beautiful live-oak grove in a wide prairie covered with fine musquete grass on the border of a fine, clear stream of water, and put up a large arbor, and built a pen large enough to hold twenty or thirty cows and calves, and drove posts into the ground for tents; took a number of cooking-stoves to the place, and fixed a table out of plank, long enough to accommodate one hundred persons. On the morning the meeting was to commence some 40 or 50 wagons might have been seen coming from all directions to the meeting place. Horsemen might have been seen driving cows and calves. Everything was conducted in quiet and good order. The first night of the meeting at least one thousand persons slept on the camp-ground. Many came as far as sixty miles. From the manner in which the services were commenced, it was manifest the people were earnest, that they had come to worship God and to benefit their fellows. A hymn arose, on which the wing of devotion poised itself for heaven. Prayers went up as incense before God.

As I was a stranger there, the brethren decided that I should do the most of the preaching—all that I was able to do. I accordingly, preached twice a day from Friday until the next Thursday. The immediate result was the confession and immersion of forty six persons. Several others took membership. It was truly a great and good meeting. What a joyful time it will be when all the Christian pilgrims reach their heavenly home, and swell the anthem of redemption that shall roll on forever! Halleluyaw!!

My worldly interests, except the place I owned on the Cabasa, were all in northern Texas, -(and I much preferred that to the place where I was living; and since my wife was not coming to Texas, and it was because she had consented to go to Southern and would not live in the northern portion of the State, that I had gone there) I determined to go where my lands were. I accordingly disposed, at great sacrifice too, of what stock and loose property I had in Galiad County, and went up to Grayson County—a distance of 350 miles, intending, however, to return in the course of a few months, and settle up all my business in that part of the State. This last however, I accomplished without returning, and consequently, never went back.

In Grayson County, I found a tract of land of 402 acres, some 50 acres in cultivation, frame house, it was near to some of my lands, for sale, and bought it, and settled down, and commenced enlarging and improving my farm, and building additions to my house; and, in the mean time preached regularly through Grayson and Collin. At a meeting of ten days in McKinney 43 were added to the Church. Additions were made almost every month where I preached at Mantera. At a meeting of twelve days in my immediate neighborhood fifty obeyed the gospel. In Kentuckytown in six days twenty four were added. At White Mound, 8 miles east of me, fifty obeyed the gospel in eight days. A few weeks afterwards at Mantera, fifty became obedient to the faith. In Sherman, the County seat of Grayson, several, from time to time, obeyed the Lord. In Dallas frequent accessions were made. In Fort Worth, at one meeting forty seven joined the army of the faith, and at another twenty four. St. Plaino and Duck Creek twenty four came out upon the Lord's side. At other points, there were, in all, about eighty.

All this labor I performed, with the above results, without scarcely any compensation.

At a Cooperation meeting held in Mantera it was resolved by the brethren to send out and sustain an Evangelist in the Counties of Grayson and Caooin; also to publish a monthly paper, I was chosen as Editor, and Dr. Clark assistant Editor. He was likewise chosen as the Evangelist.

A Prospectus was issued for the paper, and many subscribers obtained when the Cloud of civil war loomed up in our horizon, and the wheels of our progress were suddenly stopped. The war-cry sped through our country as upon the wings of the wind. The fire was kindled, in whose terrific blaze, all other lights paled. Thus matters stood for four long, dreadful years, when heart (?) was again restored.

When the question of secession was sprung, I was frequently consulted in reference to the measure. I gave it as my opinion that, from the terms of the federal compact, a State had the right to secede; but that it was impolite to do so' that in the present attitude of affairs, secession would be ruinous to the South. It would unquestionably bring on a civil war. The South was weak; was wholly unprepared, and subjugated; and slavery was certain to be abolished. I knew the North would have the sympathy of the powers of Europe, because they were all opposed to African slavery, because African slavery was opposed to monarchy. These things I frequently stated in public addresses. I told the people, if we provoked a war with the Federal Government, we would have to fight the whole world.

But when the Convention passed the ordinance of secession, I submitted; and as I owed allegiance to the State of Texas, I went out of the Union with my State. As I then and now understand it, my allegiance to the Federal Government is in consequence of my allegiance to the State of which I am a citizen. As I believe, it was the States, and not individuals, that entered into the Federal Compact. But I am no politician, and really take but little interest in any government, save that of the King of Kings. But during the war, I went heart and hand and soul, for my country, because I knew our only hope was in our success. But I am not a man for blood, nor war. I am for peace.

True, when the war came, and my neighbor young men, multitudes of whom I had immersed, solicited me, I did accept the Chaplancy in the 6th Texas Calvary, Col. Stone's first Regiment, and was nine months in the service, and tried to do my duty in all particulars—to the sick and well, the dying and the dead; in calm, on the march; on the battle field, where the cannon boomed, and blazed, and hurled missiles of death thick and fast. I prayed, and preached, and exhorted the men to do their duty to their country, and to their God. And did I not do right? Will any say I did wrong? Set the wise, the just, and the good answer. I fear not their decision. Above all, I appeal to the great Searcher of hearts and am content, as I know I shall be compelled to do, —to submit to his decision. I was in, or rather at two battles, and carried a weapon of war, and deadly one, but never used it against anyone, I neither brandished sword nor fired a gun at an enemy. So I am sure I neither killed nor wounded anyone. I am not, therefore, guilty of blood.

At Corinth, I think, on the 27th day of May 1862. I resigned my position, and returned to Texas, and reached home the 14th day of June, the day before I was 59 years old.

During the nine months I was in the army, except a few days in MO. and a week at Corinth, I enjoyed good health, notwithstanding my exposure to heat and cold, and wet; often lying on the cold, damp ground without a tent, and with a single blanket under me and another over me; on the march by day and by night—indeed, all the exposures, privations and vicissitudes incident to a soldier's life. Not one ever heard me complain of hard fare, or no law; hard marching, exposure, or anything else. No one ever heard me complain of our officers or say a word unkind or disrespectful of any of them. I had my troubles, and privations, and trials; but I bore them all in silence, and admonished the men to do the same. The same is true of me as a Christian soldier. For many long years I have suffered on in silence, disdaining to hoist the flag of distress to the world, or to my brethren. There has been for many years a manifest disposition even among our staff-officers to depreciate my services in the cause of truth, and even to ignore altogether my sacrifices, my labors and my success in the cause. Numerous instances could be given, but I {????} I look not for my reward from men; God only knows my labors, my sacrifices and my sufferings for the sake of truth and right; and to him I look for my reward, in the great day when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed, and when every one shall be rewarded according to his works. I love God and his truth, and I love good men; and many such we have in our ranks; and those who are contrarywise, {sic} I will let God judge. I may be mistaken in men and their motives; but God knows all things. And "The Judge of all the earth will do right." This life is short; the life to come will be eternal.

"I'll suffer on my three score years,

   Till my Deliver came,

To wipe away his servant's tears,

   And take his exile home."

One day in heaven will amply compensate me for all I had done and suffered in this life.

On my return from the army, I resumed my labors among the churches; and although, considering so many were from home in the army, the congregations were large, not much visible good was done while the war lasted, owing, doubtless to the fact that, the minds of the people were fixed upon the fearful struggle and the probable issue of the fratercidal{sic} contest. But when peace (???) was restored, and the people resumed their avocations, the attention of many was arrested, and their hearts won to the Savior. And it so continues to the present.

The next year, in February, 1863, after my return from the army, I was married to Mrs. Elizabeth Collins, formerly of KY. and daughter of Thomas Palmer, of Madison County, KY. I made her acquaintance in the spring of 1857, in Texas. She purchased a farm and lived one mile from me from that time until we were married. I found her to be a good and pious woman, and an excellent housekeeper. I was living alone except a family of servants I had purchased, and had been from the winter of 1857, when I settled where I now live. I had been in Texas more than six years—almost seven. By the laws of the State, I was divorced from my second wife on account of her continued absence from my home and from the State. I did not, at the time of my marriage, know whether my former wife was living. I had not put her away. She had abandoned me, and that too, as far as known to me, without cause. I was, therefore, released from her, as I considered, not only by the laws of the State, but by the law of God likewise. 1 Cor. 7:15.

The following is brother A. Campbell's conclusion and understanding of this passage: "When a woman finally deserts a Christian husband, and utterly refuses to live with him, we should, on all our premises, not consider him obliged to live henceforth without a wife, provided the civil law of the country fully sanctions such a marriage." Millennial Harbinger of 1853. p. 533. This was his final conclusion after a full and thorough examination of the question of "Separation and divorce" in all its phases.

Before deciding upon the important step I first sat down to a denovo investigation of this grave and moated question, and endeavored to make the investigation impartially, as in the sight of God, and in view of the filial judgment and the retributions of eternity. I turned to the Savior's teachings on the subject of marriage and divorce, contained in the gospels, and in Mat. 19: perhaps more fully than elsewhere.

In order to understand the Savior's language here, it is important to note the circumstances under which he spoke. Under the Jewish law a man could put away his wife whenever he chose to do so. All he had to do was to give her a writing of divorcement and put her away without any cause, and to marry another at pleasure. The main subject under consideration in our Lord's teaching was, whether a man had a right in and of himself to put away his wife, and to annull, set aside, abolish the marriage covenant and dissolve the marriage relation between himself and wife, and that too, without any breach or violation of the marital law on the part of his wife. A man's right to do this is what the Savior denies, and the practice and custom he denounces and rebukes in the strongest terms. He allows but one exception, and that is when the woman is guilty of a flagrant violation of marriage vows. In that case, having herself broken the marriage contract, her husband is justifiable in putting her away. And with this agrees a great law of Justice, clear to every mind, that, when one of the parties violates the terms of a contract, the other is no longer bound by it.

To the same effect argues the apostle Paul: "If the unbelieving (husband or wife) depart, let him depart. A brother or sister is not under bondage in such case." Why not? Because the one departing is an unbeliever? Clearly not; for he says, "if the unbelieving wife be pleased to dwell with, let him not put her away. Or if the unibelieving husband be pleased to dwell with the believing wife, let her not leave him." Hence it is not unbelief that affects the bond of matrimony, What is it then'? It she depart, let her depart. Her departing, then, is the cause by which the effect is produced. But what is the effect produced? The answer of the Apostle is: "A brother or sister is not under, bondage in such case." Departing, then, being a violation of the marriage contract, breaks the bonds that united them together as husband and wife, and frees the other party.

In regard, then, to myself: I did not put away my wife, nor leave her. She abandoned me; and as far as known to me, without cause. As she "departed" from me. I was no longer bound to her, but was released from the marriage tie, and, consequently, at liberty to marry again, according to the Scriptures. There was, then, no law of God forbidding me to marry again.

But did the laws of the State allow me to marry again? Or did I, in marrying again, violate the civil authorities? I answer: 1. In the civil code of Texas there are several things laid down as grounds upon which a divorce may be obtained. One is: The continued absence of a wife from the bed and board of her husband for the period of two years. In such case, the husband may bring suit in the District Court for a divorce.

In the Criminal Code of the State the law runs thus: If a wife absents herself from the State for the period of five years, the husband on account of this absence of his wife, is divorced from her, and is at liberty to marry again, provided he does not at the time of his said marriage know that his former wife is alive. My wife had absented herself from Texas over six years; and I did not at the time of my marriage, know whether she was living, not having heard of her for years.

Before I engaged myself to my last wife, I consulted some of the best lawyers in the country; all decided that, according to the State rules of Texas, I had a right to marry. I consulted several preaching brethren, elders and others of piety and intelligence in the Scriptures; they all, without a dissenting voice, decided that I was Scripturally authorized to marry. I even consulted men of influence and intelligence belonging to some of the sects, and men of no party. All concurred in the same opinion.

Finally, a preacher took offense at {me} for my political position, and vented his spleen and spit his venom at me, saying, I was living in adultery, and that he could prove it! I preferred against him the charge of slander. He was arraigned before the Elders of the Church, and from the evidence adduced in the case, he was found guilty, first, by the Elders, and then by the whole Church; and was required to withdraw the charge and make acknowledgments for the offense; in default of which, he was excluded from the Church.

Not satisfied with the action of the Church, he appealed from their decision to a Cooperation meeting. I consented, and the Elders of the Church consented that he should have a new trial. The chairman and the greater part of the delegates were of his political party. A committee of sensible and good brethren were appointed by the Chair to try the case de novo. After giving him a two-days hearing, they sustained the decision of the Church. They unanimously pronounced him guilty of slander, and required him openly to confess the offense and ask my forgiveness, or else to stand excluded from the Church. He chose to do the former, and the matter was settled, and remains settled.

The war, coming suddenly upon us, caught me some two thousand dollars ($2000) in debt. The interest at 10 and 12 percent swelled the sum greatly. Several of my creditors instituted suit against me, and, although they could not collect their debts during the war, they increased my liabilities in the way of costs. After the war closed, a stay law was passed by our Legislature. Appeals were taken from decisions under it to the Supreme Court of the State, and the law divided to be unconstitutional. Before these decisions were known, but in anticipation of the result, and unwilling for my property to be sold under execution; I concluded to take some forty horses that I had raised north to sell and pay my debts. Having sold all by household and kitchen furniture, farming utensils, cattle, hogs, etc. etc. at public sale; on the 22nd of July 1867, I started to Mo. My wife went to visit her parents in Ky. Four young men drove the horses, a wagon and buggy. In Mo. sold all my horses, and followed my wife to Ky.

That winter we spent mostly at her father's and at her daughter's, Mrs. Dillehay, in Danville. Early in the spring, I visited Carlisle, Moorfield, where I was born and bred, and Flemingsburg, and spent several weeks with my brother Jerry, some three miles from town.

In May I returned to Madison County, and opened a Dental office in Richmond, where I remained until the 1st of Aug., when I went to Gallatin, Ten, to see my brother, Dr. B. W. Hall, and spent four weeks preaching in that County, and added about twenty to the cause of the Redeemer. I then returned to Richmond and resumed my profession, preaching occasionally there and at other points in the County as opportunity offered.

In the meantime the churches in Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas wrote, requesting me to return to Texas and take charge of the churches in those places. Propositions were made for me to go to Sumner County, Ten. But I finally accepted the offer of the churches in Texas, and started for that field of labor in Nov. 1868, and, after much delay, reached Dallas, about the 1st of Jan. 1869, and found all things in readiness to receive us. Our friends met us gladly.

I at once entered upon my labors for the two churches, and up to the end of Aug. added to the church in Dallas about twenty, and about the same number to the church in Fort Worth. During the time I held a meeting at Scyone and gained fourteen; and two in Cleabourn, {sic} Johnson Co. and constituted a church of brethren already there. They number some thirty now. I held a meeting in Saneaster likewise, and towards the close, was assisted by brother Dr. N. H. O. Polley. About eight were added. In Aug. brother Polley and I held a meeting at Plaino, and gained upwards of thirty to the cause. This was a Cooperation meeting, the first we have had in this country, except one, since the war.

The Second Lord's day in Oct. bro. Polley and I were in McKinney. Only one obeyed the gospel. The next Friday night we commenced a cooperation meeting at Rockwall, Kaupman County. We had a harmonious meeting, and all seemed to feel it was good to be there. We adjourned to meet again at Plaino on Christmas day. We anticipate a good time.

For three years my farm in Grayson County had been rented out. I paid two visits there while I lived in Dallas. I saw my farm and premises were going to wreck, and I realized but little from the place. I found it necessary to take care of my place, to return to my farm. I, consequently, resigned my position to the churches in Dallas & Fort Worth, and returned home in Sept. This arrangement will not at all interfere with my preaching. On the contrary, I hope to be able to preach pretty much all the time during the seasons that will admit of my holding protracted meetings. I am getting old now; have been my 66th year since June. I am, however, still able to preach nearly as much as ever the remainder of my days must necessarily be . . . {end of transcribed page 159}

*Webmaster’s Note: Special thanks to the Special Collections Department of the May Couts Burnett Library of Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, Texas, for making copies of the transcribed version of the original Autobiography of B.F. Hall. The original Autobiography was handwritten, and transcribed a number of years ago. As the original handwritten pages have not been made available for comparison, various corrections or words understood, or questions of text that is obviously missing, whether by mistake of the transcriber, or illegibility of the handwritten text, has been identified in the text above as {}. Therefore what you see above inside {} should be understood as additions by your webmaster. Hopefully the occasion will arise that the original handwritten text will one day be made available to check the accuracy of the transcription above. Thanks again to the staff of the Special Collections at TCU, Ft. Worth, Texas.

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