"The first preaching that we heard was by an old gentleman of the name of Huntington. He was a Universalist, a good man, I think, but not a great preacher. He addressed the people for the greater part of one summer generally at my father's house. I do not remember to have seen anything like reform among the people. The old gentleman died in a few years, and I trust has gone to rest. Also Elders[9] Robinson Smith and A. Moulton, of Hatley, a neighboring town, favored us with their ministry. We called them Free-willers, but their preaching was life-awakening, and it was held in remembrance long after they were gone, although they saw no immediate fruits of their labors. I recollect of hearing Mr. Moulton once, the first time I think I ever saw him. His voice to me was like thunder. For several days after, it seemed as though I could hear the sound of it."
This indeed is the proof of God's presence in the mission, that the minister has that to say which the sinner cannot forget, that which lingers in his way like an invisible spell. The man who has God's word is not a mere lecturer or essayist in the holy temple. He has words of divine fire to speak, an undying love to utter, a warning of eternity to hold forth. He commands the giddy and the sinful to listen to a voice which, if he repent not, will tingle in his ears even to his dying day. Smooth, elegant composition may be patiently taught, and patiently learned, but God's living word out of heaven to unfaithful man, is another thing. This word has many organs, finds its way far and near, and reaches the heart of the ardent young man whose footsteps are on the classic ground, or in the larger path of nature's wild.
"When about sixteen or seventeen," continues the journal, "I heard that a young man about my age from Vermont would preach in our vicinity. There was a great move to hear him, and I resolved to go. The house was full. He was evidently one much engaged in God's work. He looked very pale and much worn out. Mr. Moulton was with him, prayed at the beginning of the meeting, after which the young man, Benjamin Putnam, came forward, and in a manner and address that were engaging, and to me peculiarly pleasing, preached a sermon from Isaiah 22:22; a text which I shall never forget. 'And the key of the house of David will I lay upon his shoulder: so he shall open, and none shall shut; and he shall shut, and none shall open.' He described Christ as the Son of God, and the power as being laid upon his shoulder; he also dwelt on what he had opened both to and for man, which none could shut, and finally spoke of the closing of the same door, which none should be able to open. I thought this discourse more glorious than anything I had ever heard. I thought him the happiest young man I ever saw. As soon as meeting was closed he came forward through the assembly and spoke to my brother, which had a solemn effect on us both. Many of his expressions I have ever remembered.
"The Methodist ministers next made their way into our town, and I have always thought that they came in the name and spirit of the Highest. They were humble and earnest. As my father's family seldom attended their meetings, I perhaps did not become acquainted with the first that came. Hays and Briggs were the first I heard. While listening to the farewell sermon of the former I remember to have been deeply affected, and one evening, while listening to Mr. Briggs, I felt a strong conviction of my sin, and believed that I was undone without regeneration. They first formed a small class in town. Leaving the circuit the next year, Joseph Dennet and David Blanchard were their successors, under whose ministry many of the old and the young were turned to God, whilst even children were made happy in Christ. I think that the preaching of the latter was the first that ever brought tears from my eyes. Also, in those days, we had frequent visits from the missionaries, but I do not remember that their preaching had much effect on my own mind or that of any other person.
"In the conflict of good and evil tendencies in the minds of young men who share largely of the passions and giddiness which characterize the period of one's youth, it is interesting to contemplate the skill with which these influences assail each other, each winning its temporary victory, and each wrestling at times with great might for the doubtful mastery. Notwithstanding these solemn emotions to good, I was quite wild and had several bad habits. In hearing Mr. H. preach the summer I was eighteen, I was much aroused to a sense of duty, and though seeing the way of my life to be death, my determinations as yet were not equal to the chain of habit that bound me. On the first of August I looked forward to the 16th, which was my birthday, as the day in which I should begin to walk in newness of life, and for several days this occupied my thoughts. But the time passed, and my resolution with it, whilst my feelings reacted more strongly than ever toward my former ways. The Spirit of God righteously strives with sinners; and many have I seen on languishing beds lamenting their early resistance to the holy influence, and that they had ever broken their promise to Him. I had a taste for reading, and spent much of my time in the perusal of novels and with vain young company. A young man by the name of Richardson was my most intimate friend. On the Sabbath and every other opportunity we were together; we spent the time mostly in reading; I thought I enjoyed happiness in his society. In our assemblies for diversion we ever had a good understanding. His friendship lasted until my conversion, when something far more glorious opened to my view. It appeared a great mystery to him, and it caused me much sorrow to leave him, but the first lesson I learned from the cross taught me how to relinquish and how to renounce.
"In the autumn of 1810 we had many vain assemblies for dancing and other recreations. Never had I before gone so far in wickedness as at this time. But, in the midst of our gayety, events of Providence compelled our thoughts to serious objects, as death, through the agency of a fatal fever, spread over the town its sorrow and sadness, cutting off the old and the young indiscriminately. On the 10th of January, 1811, I commenced a journey to New Hampshire, to visit my friends, whom I had not seen since 1802. When I arrived at Stanstead, I passed several days with a cousin of mine who was engaged in teaching the art of dancing. He was an agreeable gentleman, and of great talents; but it was a grief to his friends that he had taken to this employment. I was much pleased with the instructions he gave me, as I was anxious to attain perfection in the art.
"With several young men I proceeded on my way to New Hampshire, and making the journey merry with rudeness and laughter, we prosecuted it till I arrived at Gilmanton. Here I found that my honored grandsire no longer occupied his place on earth. His companion, who had watched over my childhood for two years, and had made the voice of prayer familiar to my lips, still survived. Several other relatives had also gone to their long home, and though these things made little impression on my heart, owing to the state of my mind, I could not but solemnly reflect on the hand that had so long upheld me, when I visited my early home, the place of my birth, and recalled the many scenes of my childhood freshly to mind. We have in life but one childhood, and no hours of retrospect put us into such unison with nature as when we live it over in the revival of its scenes.
"I passed several weeks in Gilmanton, attending school a part of the time, and freely enjoyed the company of my young friends. My sister Mary, the wife of General Cogswell, occasionally rebuked me for my lightness, and though I made light of her admonitions at the time, they made much impression on my mind. But most of all I dreaded that my uncle, Mr. Smith, who had been the minister of the place for thirty years, should talk to me about religion. I was very loth to visit him at all, but I stayed with him the last night I remained in town, and to my happy disappointment escaped the drilling I had so much feared, as he did not once mention the subject. In company with my cousin, Joseph Smith, I set out the next day for home, and by evening arrived at Judge William Badger's, a cousin of mine, with whom we had an excellent visit. The next day, when passing through Meredith, we saw a young man standing in the door of a house with a multitude around him. The building appeared to be full of people, to whom he was preaching. We arrived that evening at Camptown, and though I was nearly sick and my spirits depressed by some influence I could not define, and my mind uninterested by surrounding objects, I yielded to the persuasion of my cousin to go on. Nothing was able to interest me. After some time we started for the place since so much celebrated, the Notch of the White Mountains.
"But nature, which to me was ever welcome, did not attract me as usual. A spirit, over which I had not control, seemed to work within me to the extreme of solemn conviction. People, road, trees, rivers—all seemed gloomy, and I appeared to myself as a monument spared to unite with them in mourning. We finally passed the gloomy Notch, and as I drank in its lonely influence, I felt, unavoidably, its likeness to the mood of my own spirit. At Franconia, many new prospects and objects appeared to view. The manufactory of iron was at that time and there a great curiosity. At Littleton, further on in our journey, we rode on the river, as it was hardly frozen. I disguised my feelings, and as we were riding along, several in number, I fell in the rear that I might enjoy the meditations in which my mind was absorbed. At this time, an old gentleman, whose silver locks and grave appearance attracted my attention, appeared near me, coming from his house to the river to draw water. My eyes were fixed upon him. 'How far,' said he, 'is your company journeying?' To the province of Lower Canada, I answered. 'Do you live there?' said he. I answered that I did. Then in a solemn tone the old patriarch inquired, 'Is there any religion in that part of the world?' I was surprised to hear this subject introduced by a stranger. I told him there were some in our country who professed religion. He then burst into a flood of tears, and exhorted me with a warm-hearted pathos to seek salvation, and, though I disclosed none of my feelings to him, I was most deeply moved, and the image of the venerable old man was continually before my eyes through the day. I could scarcely refrain from weeping; and whatever others may think of such apparently accidental events, I am free to confess, that from that time until now, I have firmly believed that this old gentleman was a God-sent prophet unto me. The impressions he made continued till I enjoyed the sweet religion that inspired his look and his voice. I have often wished that I might see him and humble myself in thankfulness before him, a thing not to be expected in this life.