Discussion in Pontiac; The Apostle’s Faith; His Argument in Romans; Extensive Traveling; In Kansas and Missouri; Price’s Raid; In Ohio and Indiana; Dark Night and Walk in Toledo; Conversation on Destructionism; The Victory; The Death; President Lincoln; Debate in Milford, Ohio; The Restitution an old Doctrine; The Sentiment Wide Spread; At Work in Iowa; Laborers There; Murderers Saved and the Murdered Lost; Intellectual and Moral Growth; What Man Was; What He is to Be; The Victory; Spiritualism; Immoral Preaching; Saved Without Repentance; Preaching a Means of Salvation; A Methodist Minister Believes; The Suicide.
CHAPTER XIX.
Last Campaign; In Galesburg, Ill.; The United States Convention; Lombard University; Other Schools; Journey to Missouri; In Macon City; In Brookfield; St. Joseph and Other Cities; Grove Meeting; On the Missouri Bottom; Beautiful Country; Preach in Fillmore and many other Places; Return Home; Anti-Orthodox Preaching; Funeral Sermons; Death; Life; Conclusion.
CHAPTER I.
Parentage and Childhood—Lord Timothy Dexter—At School—In Haverhill—Shoemaking—Early Aspirations—Converted—Must be a Minister—On a Plank—Attends School—A Long Walk—Studies with J. C. Waldo and Dr. Cobb—First Preaching—With W. S. Balch—First Tour—First Debate—Comes out Second Best—Talk with an Englishman about American Coarseness—Conversation on Slavery—In Maryland—Talk with an Episcopal Clergyman concerning Endless Woe not Being Taught in the Old Testament—Traveling and Preaching on the Eastern Shore—Returns to Baltimore—A Storm—Where Truth Flourishes and Where it Does Not—Another Location—Self and Faith Abused—Preaches in Harpers Ferry, Charleston, Winchester, Va.—A Hard Battle—Crosses the Alleghany Mountains.
Having been often solicited, by my friends, to publish an account of my travels and labors in the West, after much hesitation and doubt, I have concluded to accede to their wishes. But before doing so, I will say a little about my early life. Newburyport, Mass., is my native place. My father, whose full name I bear, was from Denmark; my mother from Amsterdam, Holland. I was the first born of a family of three boys, one of whom, Frederick, many years since passed the way of all the earth. The other, James, resides in Texas. My father was a sailor, and was lost at sea in a terrific storm, when I was seven years old. I have a faint recollection of seeing him two or three times, and the only memento I have of him, is a large pitcher he had manufactured in Liverpool with his name and the picture of a ship on one side, and my mother’s maiden name and a picture representing Liberty, Peace and Independence, on the opposite side. My mother was left in indigent circumstances, with not a relative in the New World, save her three helpless boys. She married some years after my father’s death, and resided till her death, which took place two years since, in Princeton, Mass. I have then a father, mother and one brother on the other side of the river, and one brother on this side, and not many years can elapse ere the whole family will be reunited in the land beyond the flood. I well remember the spot where all of us once lived, although I have not been in Newburyport for thirty years. It was on High street, between the Court House and the residence of “Lord” Timothy Dexter. To me, that street seemed a paradise, and it was, and still is, a magnificent thoroughfare. It is on high ground, runs parallel with the Merrimac river, overlooks the harbor, and is bordered with rows of grand trees, with fine residences embowered in lawns and flower gardens. In this charming locality, I spent the first decade of my life. Here I ran, played, and frolicked with my brothers, and other little associates. The Mall around the Court House, the pond in the rear, and a neighboring cemetery, were places of frequent resort. On Sunday, I attended Dr. Morse’s church, where, I am told, I was christened by the good doctor, who was an Episcopalian. But the bud came near being suddenly blasted. An old-fashioned cent which I put into my mouth, slipped down my throat, and was extracted with much difficulty. I distinctly remember the circumstance. When the copper was taken out, blood flowed copiously from my mouth. My poor mother was much frightened, and I suffered for a short time severely. If my father had lived, I should probably have been a sailor. He was first mate of the ship in which he made his last and fatal voyage, and was to have been promoted to captain on his return. I have ever loved the sea, and a ship is a thing of beauty in my eye. But it was written that the solid earth, not the treacherous deep, should be the field of my operations.
One word about Lord Timothy, just referred to. He was a very eccentric man, had many soft spots on his head, but knew enough to accumulate a large fortune. He built a magnificent residence, which he adorned in a very extravagant manner, with sculpture and pictures. He was very vain of his house and wealth. It is said that a stranger, passing his house, was attentively observing it, when Dexter, who was sitting at a window, remarked: “Do you not think this is paradise?” “I should,” replied the man, “if I did not see the devil at the window.” He was dubbed “Lord” for his vanity and ostentation, and the title delighted him as much as “Corsica” prefixed to Boswell, delighted the well known biographer of that name.
I commenced attending school at an early age, but have no pleasant memories of school-hours in my native town. My teacher would read a chapter in the Bible, and make a long prayer every morning, and then whip and pound his pupils till the time for his evening devotions. If I escaped a day without two or three hard thrashings, I deemed myself very fortunate, and I think I was as dutiful as school boys generally were of my age. He was doubtless a believer in total depravity, and was sure that nothing but blows and knocks would make a good impression on our corrupt hearts.
From my tenth to my eighteenth year, I resided in Haverhill, Mass., with S. George. He was a farmer and shoemaker—made shoes in the winter, and tilled the soil summers, and I worked on his farm and in his shop, except winters, when I attended school. I remember my first attempt at horseback riding. I went to live with him in the spring, and he soon put me on a horse to ride when ploughing corn. The beast was contrary and spirited. He would go like jehu a few rods, and then stop short, and I would go over his head on to the ground. But I was as spunky as the horse, and would scramble up, and tell Mr. G. to put me on again. I was always eager to remount the beast, although he threw me twenty times a day. Since then, I have rode over the Western country horseback, and consider myself a good horseman.