At another time in going from Newark to Edina, the rain poured down in torrents till I was about half way through, when the wind suddenly changing to the north, and the thermometer fell in one hour to four degrees below zero. When I reached a haven I was encased in a thick coat of ice, and could not get out of the saddle without assistance. The next day I rode thirty miles over the prairie in the face of a northwest wind, that cut like a razor.
From Newark I proceeded to Shelbyville, and spoke several times. Have often lectured there since. Thence to Paris, Middle Grove, Columbia, in all of which towns I had large congregations. Lectured in Fayette, and then crossed the Missouri river, one hundred and sixty miles from St. Louis, and preached in Booneville, a beautiful town on the bank of “Big Muddy,” as the Missouri is often called. This is a mighty river. Its waters, from hundreds of fountains in the Rocky Mountains, after dashing through deep gorges, tumbling over vast precipices, and winding over the immense deserts of the far west, all combine and make one of the largest rivers in the world. Although it is here a wide, deep and rapid stream, it is nearly two thousand miles to where it pours its vast contents into the salt sea. The bluffs on each side of it, two or three hundred feet high, are about seven miles apart, and show what this river has been doing these many years. The clay and rock that once filled that vast channel, seven miles wide, three hundred feet deep, and thousands of miles long, has all been floated away in its ceaseless and resistless tide—carried south, and helped to redeem Louisiana and Mississippi from ocean’s dominions.
About the finest country in the world is bordering on this river in the state of Missouri. On the north side of the river, from Iowa to where it connects with the Mississippi river, and on the south side from Nebraska, through Kansas to Jefferson City, Mo., the land is rolling, well timbered, and the soil rich, warm and deep. Tobacco, hemp, the cereals, the grasses, and the fruits of the temperate climate, grow here abundantly, and as near perfection as in any country. Mighty cities will be built on the banks of this great river, a dense population will throng its shores, and civilization will here attain its highest degree of glory.
Journeyed to Georgetown, and lectured several times; a man replied, I rejoined, when he said no more. Proceeded to Calhoun and preached twice; thence to Clinton where I spoke three times. This was the limits of my journey south. I was in the southwest part of Missouri. The country was thinly settled, and the adherents of the liberal faith were very scarce. L. C. Marvin had resided in Booneville, and preached some in this region, but there was no organization, and little was known of our faith. Still my congregations were large, and the people listened respectfully. This is an excellent field for a missionary. It is a beautiful country, and will soon be densely settled.
Traveled east to Warsaw, on the Osage river, and delivered my message. One preacher replied, and another asked many questions, so I had about as much as I could attend to. The latter inquired, if we organize churches, build meeting-houses, and ordain ministers; and was much surprised when informed of the number of our churches, meeting-houses and ministers. “Do you profess to be Christians?” said he. When I replied, yea, he added, “Well, I did not know that.”
Proceeded to Jefferson City; reached there about dark, wet and cold, for it had rained all day. Stopped at a hotel, and inquired if there was an appointment for me; the landlord thought there was at the Court-house. Hastened to the place without supper, as I had no time to attend to that, and found the Court-house lighted, and seven or eight very respectable appearing men in the large room. No more came, and I delivered a long discourse to that small crowd. When I was through, I mentioned the paper I was publishing in St. Louis, and every man present subscribed for it; and I found that they were some of the notables of the state—the lieutenant-governor, secretary of state, treasurer of state, auditor of state, post-master of the town, and two lawyers.
The next day crossed the Missouri river to its north side, and rode to Fulton, where I lectured, and then proceeded to Danville. Here I meet with opposition. When I had taken my seat in the Court-house, a man arose in the congregation, and wished me to take for my text, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. I spoke one hour on that subject, although I had rode all day on horseback. As soon as I was through with my discourse on that text, another wanted an explanation of the “lake of fire” and “second death.” I accommodated him, when a third one replied to what I had said on both passages. I spoke another hour, and was glad to have some rest. Rode next day to Warrenton, thirty miles, and lectured, and by request, told the people all I knew about the devil. One man in the house seemed to think I had not done that character justice, and so he added what I omitted with reference to his being, history, works, character and future prospects. He made him out to be a very powerful being, more than a match for the Almighty, and the author of all the sin and woe of this world. I asked the preacher, whence the devil derived all his power to do so much mischief, and he would not condescend to inform me. I asked him why God did not kill the devil if he was such an enemy to him, and he said that was an infidel question.
I told the people I had not a particle of faith in the devil of the Methodist creed, for the gentleman was of that order. It represents him as a god—the god of hell—and the good book does not require faith in such a god. But there are devils many, that have a real existence. Every evil thought, purpose, passion; every error we cherish, and every wicked act we do, is a devil, for each and all of them are enemies to our peace, happiness and prosperity. Instead of preaching devils, let us go to work and kill those first in our own heart, and then aid our neighbors in exterminating those in their hearts. This would be dealing with devils to a good purpose.
After riding two more days I reached home. Had been absent three months, delivered eighty-four discourses, and rode about eight hundred miles. I was well pleased with my journey, for I had made many acquaintances, obtained a large number of subscribers for the paper, and had accomplished, I thought, some good. Mrs. Manford issued the October and November numbers of the paper in my absence.