“Will you please show me that document.”
“It is not in my possession; our prophet has it.”
I then gave the history of the rise and progress of Mormonism; exposed its knavery, imposture, polygamy. The Mormons present became very angry, and one coarse-looking fellow shook his fist in my face. That was the first and last time I ever came in contact with Mormons. I was probably too severe in my remarks; but I was so disgusted at the man’s defense of Mormonism, I gave free utterance to my indignation.
Self and Mrs. Manford journeyed to Cincinnati. We traveled in a buggy, and had a delightful jaunt, as the weather was pleasant, the roads good, and friends plentiful—all except the last, in striking contrast with the other journey we took—the bridal tour. We were absent three weeks, and I preached nearly every day. Attended the annual meeting of the Indiana State Convention, where we met many friends from different portions of the state. Then proceeded to Louisville, Ky., and attended the annual convocation of the Kentucky State Convention. From thence journeyed to Cincinnati, where I bought printing materials for the Teacher, and then returned home.
CHAPTER XIII.
Moved to Indianapolis—Extensive Traveling—Henry Ward Beecher—A Fossiled Calvinist—Supposed to be an Orthodox Preacher—Debate in New Philadelphia—Strife Between the North and South—The Old Convention Dead—The New Convention Organized—Discussion in Springfield, Ill.—Abraham Lincoln—God is Love—Is Merciful—Is Just—Is Holy—Travel in Illinois—Conversation with a Presbyterian Clergyman on the Origin of Hell—In Iowa City, and Other Places in Iowa—Home Again—W. J. Chaplin—Discussion with Benjamin Franklin—Debate in Covington—Discussion with Mr. Russell—Publish the “One Hundred and Fifty Reasons”—Review of “Universalism Against Itself”—Publish Another Book—Olive Branch Discontinued—Traveling Far and Near.
In 1846, I moved to Indianapolis, the capital of Indiana. It being in the center of the state, and the most important town therein, I deemed it a better locality in which to publish the Teacher than Terre Haute. It continued to be issued twice a month, Dr. J. H. Jordan assisting; and Mrs. Manford writing editorial, helping mail the paper, and keeping the books. I was often absent, but the faithful doctor and the “better half” always sent the Teacher out regularly on its mission. Its circulation rapidly increased after this change of base; and being in the geographical center of the state, I could reach all parts of it with less travel than before. I still continued to make the saddle my home a considerable portion of the time. Visited and preached annually, more or less, in nearly every county in the state, and Indiana covers a large territory, being two hundred and fifty miles north and south, and one hundred and fifty east and west. I also extended my peregrinations into Ohio, Kentucky, Illinois, Iowa and Michigan. Friends of liberal principles were every where multiplying, more and more interest was taken in the good cause, and my congregations were generally increasing. I was much encouraged, although my labor at home and abroad was much augmented. I often wished I could divide myself into a dozen parts, that I might be in as many places at once.
There were but few of the liberal faith in Indianapolis. About the time I moved there, B. F. Foster commenced preaching in the city, in the old Court House—a dirty and out of the way place. But few attended his meetings, and after one year’s effort to establish a congregation, he returned to Madison, where he had previously resided. C. Cravens subsequently made a feeble effort in the same direction, and failed. After I left, Mr. Foster returned, and resumed his labors, and has been successful in establishing a good society.
Henry Ward Beecher was pastor of one of the Presbyterian societies part of the time I resided there, and I found him to be a liberal and jovial fellow. Orthodoxy evidently did not trouble him then any more than it does now, and his hearers sometimes doubted his soundness on the “fine points.” He would occasionally preach politics; and his sharp thrusts would send his democratic church members headlong out of the house. I once asked him if he believed the Creator would eternally punish us for the sins of this life, and he evaded giving a direct answer.
There was another Presbyterian preacher in Indianapolis by the name of Gurley—a fossiled Calvinist. He and Beecher subscribed to the same creed, but in faith and spirit they were as far apart as the poles. I attended his meeting once, and he thought he would give me a hard hit. “I will relate,” said he, “how a noted Universalist died. Ethan Allen, a revolutionary soldier, was on his death bed. When well, he was loud in defense of Universalism. But when he came to die it failed him. His daughter asked him just before he breathed his last, if she should cherish the faith he had taught, or that her mother had taught her. Believe as your mother believes, said the dying man.” I met him the next day, and told him that Ethan Allen was an avowed Deist. “It is the same thing,” said he. “If you think so, you need not be alarmed about your salvation, for all now admit that children and idiots are safe.” This is the same Gurley who has figured in Washington as chaplain of Congress.