Then, in this incidental fashion, we find introduced a subject which is presently to deepen until it envelops all other thoughts of Mattie Myers: "Alex. Milligan received a letter of twelve pages from Brother Gore, dated Liverpool. He and Surber intend to start for Australia on the 21st"—two young friends of Oliver Carr and Mattie Myers, going forth as missionaries. "They have visited Spurgeon's tabernacle, Crystal Palace, etc. They describe the English manner of worship, different from ours. They have no preaching Lord's Day morning; that part of the day is spent in taking the Lord's Supper, Scripture reading, etc. Preaching at night." And then "D." enters upon the subject of Conscience, in which it seems Mattie is greatly interested; but our own will not permit us to follow him into those intricate depths.
Three months pass by, but Oliver has not forgotten Mattie's thrust: "I do wish you had gratified me by sending the sentence in quotation in which I expressed egotism. I have been much troubled about it and I would like to know exactly what it was." Then after several pages of severe self-inspection, to find the contamination, he urges her to see again his sister Mary and his other relatives who are out of the church, and continue with zest, in finding a delightful means of prolonging this correspondence: "You say that the affirmative of the question, 'Will Christ's Second Coming be Premillenial?' is Scriptural. Well, we will have a debate, if you say so. You must make the first speech; I'm simply to reply. But as suggestive of the arguments, I wish you "to prove to me, First * * *"
And so they debate; and spring blooms in Kentucky, and summer comes with its hard work and balmy airs. Mattie Myers is not as strong as she might be, but she has had a long rest, and can rest no longer; for that active spirit calls her to her chosen work. She has already done some teaching, but in the autumn of 1867, she purchases Franklin College at Lancaster, and starts definitely upon her career. She is the president, of course; and she feels as she walks the familiar streets,—no longer a little girl under her brother Joe's tutelage, but a grave young teacher—a girl of twenty now, surrounded by other girls—that her life-work has, indeed, begun. Her first school! It does not, indeed, promise that wide field she has so long coveted; the conditions are straight, the capabilities rather narrow; but after all, it will serve for a time. Why it served so short a time—but one school term, in all,—may be gleaned from the continuation of the correspondence:
"I confide in you," Oliver writes in September, "as I do in my own kin. The plain truth is that you seem much nearer to me than some of my kindred who are ever opposing my humble work. I am thankful that I ever met you, and that we have learned to sympathize with each other. I made a flying visit to Mount Carmel, and cannot say how sad I felt at not seeing you there. I preached at Orangeburg, and had the pleasure of receiving among others, my little cousin Rachel. I have long been praying for her conversion. I baptized her and her husband both at the same time.
"From there I went to the State Meeting at Lexington, and a happy time I had. It was said by old men that they had never known one so good. During the meeting, a letter was received and read before the convention by Brother J. W. McGarvey. It was from Brother Surber. He stated very touchingly the need of more preachers in Australia, and urged Brother Myles and me to come. He expressly stated that the Australian brethren had—under the recommendation of himself and Gore—selected us, and wanted no others. Brother Surber wrote to me, and gave a description of Melbourne, where he wants me to preach. His description made me wonder at the degree of refinement there. The city is beautifully adorned with flower-gardens; 140,000 inhabitants. He imagines I'm there, walking with him through the city. He says, 'Come, Ollie, it is just as near Heaven from this country as from Kentucky.' He says we will be to the Cause there what Walter Scott and Barton Stone were here, etc. The brethren there are almost wild for an evangelist from Kentucky; have sent $800.00 in gold to bear expenses of Brother Myles and myself. Above all considerations, the good I might do is the grandest—to preach to people who are not tired of hearing! I know my relatives will oppose my going, and that it will almost break my heart to leave them; but I cannot consult flesh and blood. I have prayed and wept over this, but I cannot escape the conviction that it is my duty to go. All the brethren except Dr. Pinkerton advised me to go. President Milligan just wept like a child. I've not let the folks at home know anything about it; there is great excitement here. Mattie, what do you think of my going? Would you go with me? I'm in earnest. Brother Keith and I are holding a meeting at Millersburg. I wish I had you as an assistant preacher, as I did last summer. I hear that people are well educated in Australia. Please write immediately."
We have broken the news to the reader, just as it was broken to Mattie Myers; but there is a difference; for in those days, knowledge of Australia was very superficial in Kentucky. It was immensely farther away then than now, and in proportion as it took so long to go there, to that degree did it appear wild and barbarous, semi-civilized at best. To Carr, Myles and Keith, the senior class of 1867,—the three young preachers and roommates, who were called "the Trio,"—the Australians were a mixture of exported English convicts and bush-men with bristling hair. To their imagination, an Australian was hardly to be classified with any of the recognized races of mankind; he was a mongrel, a mystery. And even if they could have received the enthusiastic laudations of young Surber and Gore, the perils of months upon the deep which rendered passage full of dangers, and a speedy return impossible, must still have appalled the fancy. To go to Australia, then, was to cut away from the old life with all its ties of love, of laughter and of tears, and to find what consolation one might in the thought that the distance from there to heaven was as short as from a Kentucky haven!
The next month, Oliver writes to Mattie Myers: "Your touching letter gave me more encouragement in my expected trip to Australia than any I have received, leaving my heart literally steeped in faith, hope and love. I hated to tell you my plan, for you are always holding up to my view the amount of work to be done in Kentucky. This is the hardest question I was ever called on to decide. It came to me something like the question of my soul's salvation. At the State Meeting, old and young advised me to go—all except Dr. Pinkerton, whose counsel was always very weighty with me. His argument was that the people of Northeast Kentucky need my labor too badly, and that their souls are just as precious as those in Australia. But you know that in Lewis County I have not the opportunities to labor that I'd have in Australia. Life is too short—we must use every advantage. There are others to take my place in this country.
"I wept all the way from Lexington. And then I placed in the scales, home with all the meaning of HOME—father, mother, sisters, brothers, and friends—and no one has dearer friends than I, and God knows I love them dearly,—and on the other side I placed the salvation of perhaps thousands of souls, the love of Jesus and his Cause. I looked at the balance with tearful eyes, and resolved to tell parents, kindred and friends adieu. The scale turned. My love for all dear to me on earth, cannot deter me from going with glad tidings to the weary and heavy-laden. And yet how sad to leave you and all others so dear. I declare, it almost breaks my heart. Yet go I must! I wrote home and told all about it. Oh, I hated to let my poor mother know anything about it. I am to stay three or five years. I will have an audience of 1,000 every Sunday. The salary will be $1,000 in gold. Some of this I will send home to my poor parents; and some to my brother Dick whom I am going to educate; and some to the young man I am already educating for the ministry. I am going to make one more strong appeal to my parents to obey the Gospel. How shall I be able to tell them goodby, if I am to go away with no hope of meeting them in heaven? I am glad you have such a good school. Oh, you are doing a noble work! Just think of training 90 or 100 little hearts and leading them to Jesus!"
December comes, and the stress of resolution grows harder to bear: "I have come home at last, but not to rejoice in the association of friends. I am chilled by translation from a fervid spiritual labor and fellowship of the saints, into a fellowship of worldly affairs where every effort is to get something to eat, drink and wear, with scarcely a thought of the hereafter. Brother Dick is dangerously ill. The dear fellow suffers the most excruciating pain. As I gaze upon his tender form, I wonder if I am ever to realize that thought—my brother, a preacher! Added to this sorrow is the sympathy I have for my poor mother, who weeps whenever Australia is mentioned. It is very distressing. All charge me with not loving them. My dear father rests his heavy head upon his hand, and weeps to think of the future. His frail body is tottering as he descends the hill of life. I fear I shall never see him again, after I say farewell. It well nigh breaks my heart to hear them chide me for resolving to go on that long, long voyage. I close this sad picture by throwing myself into my only refuge—faithful prayer, and immortal hope." The next part of the letter shows that Oliver was "in earnest" when he asked Mattie Myers to go with him:
"In Lexington I met Brother McGarvey on the street" (his teacher with whom he lodged during his last year at the University.) "He urged me to tell him all that happened during my brief visit to you at Lancaster" (where she is teaching her first school.) "In confidence, I told him your objections and difficulties. When I had finished, he said,—