Let us pass over the months of sleepless nights, of anxious days. There was one matter that brought great hindrance to the scheme. It was currently reported that the college was merely a private enterprise of the Carrs, like any other private school; and the Carrs would reap all its advantages and profits: and that the claim that it was deeded to the church was a specious pretense made in order to induce people to buy lots. These charges were made, not by the enemies of education and Christianity, not by unfriendly denominations, but by the members of the Christian church; in other words, by the very body to whom the college was deeded, to be theirs forever.
This accusation had its staunch adherents, men who for years were ready to argue warmly, if not dispassionately, in its support. The fact that it could have been disproved by simply glancing at the records, seems to have lessened none of its force. It wrought much delay in selling the lots, and, after the college was built, it served to lessen the attendance. Carr-Burdette College was, indeed, a free and loving gift,—given, one might almost say, in spite of the reluctance of the beneficiary, and held in his possession while he disclaimed its ownership.
It is not our wish to lessen the patient helpfulness of many of the members of the church. Had the Carrs worked themselves to death they could not have disposed of the lots, had not people been found to buy them. People there were found, as we have seen, who co-operated with the Carrs to the extent of their ability, and many of these were among the most illustrious of the Texan brotherhood. But for years, one might find at a general convention, the spirit of suspicion and hostility to Carr-Burdette College—as "Christian College" was finally named, and, at important committee meetings, it would be plainly declared that the college was a private enterprise and did not belong to the church.
But we will never get our college up at this rate. Let us pass on to the winter of 1893, which takes O. A. Carr once more to Kentucky. Who would ever have thought that the Kentucky boy of May's Lick, chalking his problems on his father's barn-door, would, at a later day, be going up and down his native State, selling college lots, and looking out for prospective pupils of his own? These pupils are for next year. The day for laying the corner-stone of the college, is to dawn while Mr. Carr is far away from Sherman.
On December 26th, Mrs. Carr writes to him: "I hope you will have a happy time with your kindred. I am very lonely without you; but it must be thus, until those twenty lots are sold. Necessity is a stern tyrant. But we have borne thus far, and we can bear a little longer. How happy we'll be, when we can be at home together all the time! The corner-stone will be laid New Year's Day at 3 p. m. I am dispatching you tonight to have your message in your own hand writing, to be read on the occasion, and it will be deposited in the bowl of the corner-stone. It is too bad you can't be here. This sacrifice should make a heart-appealing chapter in my book. Have your speech here without fail, in your own hand writing. Your message in your letter to me is beautiful, and I'll read that if necessary, but there are other things in that letter I don't want to go into the corner-stone. Suppose you send a dispatch, for fear your speech will not come in time. Do this at once. I send this to Maysville, and a copy to Carmel. A merry Christmas to all! How I wish I were with you!"
As to the "book" referred to, that, of course, is the "History of Carr-Burdette College;" the book which Mrs. Carr intends to write—after the college is built, of course; a book which will tell of almost superhuman struggles, of cruel sacrifices and, thank God! of words of love and cheer, and of final peace "in our home, where we shall live together." But the book was never written. Here and there among groups of old letters we find a document superscribed "Important," or, "For the Book"—and we know Mrs. Carr wrote that, with her mind upon some future day, when she would have time—time in her old age, the heat of battle dying away, and the calm of memory softening the past—a time that never came, else this book would have had no being.
January 10, 1894, Mr. Carr to Mrs. Carr: "I go to hold a meeting at Vanceburg, Kentucky. I am sorry I could not be at Sherman when the corner-stone was laid. Of course, it was laid right side up, with care; and as my wife is to see to it, I'm sure it will be well done. But it is too bad that I have to be away, causing you to work yourself down, and get sick. I am devoutly thankful to Sister Hildebrand for her care of you. Tell her she shall have her reward, by and by! I suppose the corner-stone was laid on the 7th—" sickness having made New Year's Day impossible. "I do hope you will excuse me for not sending a message worthy of the occasion. I wonder what you did with my poetry? If you planted it in the rock, I will have to get up something else for your Book. Look here! What did you think of that poetry? Perhaps there has been another delay of corner-stone ceremonies,—pshaw! if I could get into the spirit of it, I could write something, but I am so unsettled and so put out from not doing anything, that I can scarcely write a letter, to say nothing of writing what is to be left as a monument!"
The following, from Mr. Carr, January 24th, is a fitting trumpet-note with which to close the discords and harmonies of the college-overture: "I received a paper to-day—Picture of college is fine. Hurrah! Your address is grand—Just the thing! You are doing fine work."