Concerning his personal appearance and private character, we must do the reader the service of giving him the following portrait, drawn by a delicate pencil:
“I have just had the privilege of meeting with this humble servant of God, at the fireside of a friend, and I can truly say that my earnest expectations were more than realized in the interview. There is a kindness of soul, simplicity, and power, peculiarly original, combined in his manner, and he is affable and attentive to all, without any affectation of superiority. He is of about medium stature, a little corpulent, and in temperament a mixture of sanguine and nervous. His intellectual developments are unusually full, and we see in his head, great benevolence and firmness, united with a lack of self-esteem. He is also wanting in marvelousness, and is NATURALLY skeptical. His countenance is full and round, and much like the engraving we have seen, while there is a peculiar depth of expression in his blue eye, of shrewdness and love. Although about sixty-two years of age, his hair is not grey, but of a light glossy auburn, his voice is full and distinct, and his pronounciation somewhat northern-antique. In his social relations, he is gentle and affectionate, and insures the esteem of all with whom he mingles. In giving this charcoal sketch to the public, I have merely sought to correct numerous misstatements, and gratify the honest desire of many distant believers, with a faint outline of the character and appearance of the man whom God has chosen to give the ‘Midnight Cry’ to a sleeping world.”—Midnight Cry.
Here we must leave William Miller for the present, to be introduced again in a brief sketch of the rise and progress of Adventism.
MY PUBLIC LABORS.
On returning from the great camp-meeting in Eastern Maine, where I heard with deepest interest such men as Miller, Himes, and Preble, I found myself happy in the faith that Christ would come about the year 1843. I had given up all to teach the doctrine to others, and to prepare myself to do this was the great object before me. I had purchased the chart illustrating the prophecies of Daniel and John, used by lecturers at that time, and had a good assortment of publications upon the manner, object, and time of the second advent. And with this chart hung before me, and these books and the Bible in my hands, I spent several weeks in close study, which gave me a clearer view of the subject.
In October, 1842, an Advent camp-meeting was held in Exeter, Me., which I attended. The meeting was large, tents numerous, preaching clear and powerful, and the singing of Second-Advent melodies possessed a power such as I had never before witnessed in sacred songs. My Second-Advent experience was greatly deepened at this meeting, and at its close I felt that I must immediately go out into the great harvest-field, and do what I could in sounding the warning. I therefore prepared three lectures, one to remove such objections as the time of the advent not to be known, and the temporal millennium, one on the signs of the times, and one on the prophecy of Daniel.
I had neither horse, saddle, bridle, nor money, yet felt that I must go. I had used my past winter’s earnings in necessary clothing, in attending Second-Advent meetings, and in the purchase of books and the chart. But my father offered me the use of a horse for the winter, and Elder Polley gave me a saddle with both pads torn off, and several pieces of an old bridle. I gladly accepted these, and cheerfully placed the saddle on a beech log and nailed on the pads, fastened the pieces of the bridle together with malleable nails, folded my chart, with a few pamphlets on the subject of the advent, over my breast, snugly buttoned up in my coat, and left my father’s house on horseback.
I gave from three to six lectures in four different towns around Palmyra. Speaking, with the blessing of God, gave me freedom and confidence, and as the subject opened to me by study, reflection, and in speaking, I found it necessary to divide subjects, so that I added one discourse, at least, to the little series, at each place. I had a good hearing at all these places, but saw no special results.
A school-mate of mine had engaged to teach school in the town of Burnham; but by accident had lost an eye, and was told by his physician that he should rest at least one week before teaching. He urged me to teach for him one week. I consented, and on the first day of school gave an appointment for evening lectures. The school-house was crowded. I gave seven lectures, which were listened to with interest and deep feeling.