Yours very truly,
W. H. Norman,
Adj’t-Gen’l and Private Secretary to His Excellency
John P. Buchanan, Governor.
“As they could not clothe me that day nor arrange for my transportation to Covington, Tenn., I remained in the stockade until 4 a. m., of the 4th. And a more fearful and uneasy mortal the world had not. I made my way to Indianapolis, and did not until I reached that city see anything which indicated that I was being sought—that officers were after me. While sitting in the depot a man passed and re-passed me, closely observing me. I said to myself, ‘He evidently is looking for me; I had better get out of this.’ I went out of the north door as he passed out of the south door, and hastily boarded the “White Mail” express on the P. C. C. & St. L. R. R., without one cent in my pocket. I was on the front end of the mail car, and rode to Denison, Ohio, unmolested—the longest ride I ever knew anyone to make ‘on the beat’ on a passenger train.
“In August, 1901, I was arrested in Jersey City for forging a telegram. Shortly after I was bound over to the grand jury it was learned that I had been sentenced to six years’ imprisonment in Tennessee, and a letter of inquiry was sent to the Governor, who quickly notified the Jersey City authorities that I had been pardoned because of forged documents sent to him by some person unknown. A certain detective then went to Nashville, called on the Governor, and said: “Governor, Edwin Stoddard, alias Henry B. Davis, is subject to your order. Do you want him, and what is the reward?”
The good Governor, eternal peace and happiness be his, slowly rose from his chair, straightened his tall form and said: ‘Do I want Edwin Stoddard, alias Henry B. Davis? No, sir; I do not want Edwin Stoddard, alias Henry B. Davis. He beat me very cleverly, and is altogether too brilliant a man to be in prison! All I ask of Edwin Stoddard alias Henry B. Davis, is to stay out of the State of Tennessee! The pardon stands. I bid you good day, sir.’
“How the small, inhuman, unfeeling soul of the detective, who for two hundred dollars was eager to return me to a loathsome prison, must have shrank from that great, noble, white-souled Governor. What a rebuke the good Governor administered to the mercenary, unchristian wretch!
“In November, 1889, while journeying from Chicago to St. Louis, in a parlor car, on the Chicago & Alton R. R., I entered upon what resulted in one of the most interesting experiences of my life. A gentleman left his chair and said to me: ‘I am the Rev. —— ——, of Springfield, Mo., and if I mistake not, you are the Rev. —— ——, of Detroit,’ (at that time a well known preacher). At once seeing an opportunity for amusing myself, I said: ‘You are right; I am pleased to form your acquaintance.’ After we had conversed for some time he said, ‘I should be pleased to have you accompany me to Springfield and become my guest and to occupy my pulpit Sunday.’ To which, after some hesitation, I consented. He had a very pleasant home, and the sweetest, kindliest consort it has ever been my pleasure to meet. They could not do enough for my comfort and pleasure. Impostor that I was, their assiduous attention only served to render me uncomfortable. I asked a blessing at each meal, and read the Bible and prayed in the morning and evening. But the thought of the two sermons I was expected to preach Sunday caused me unspeakable perturbation, as I had but 36 hours in which to prepare them. I was tempted to flee the place and let the good pastor think what he pleased. But as I had never in the course of my wayward career proved unequal to any emergency I determined to face the rugged proposition and preach as he had requested. Retiring to my room with a Bible and several sheets of paper I went to agonizing over the sermons. For the morning sermon I took for my text the verse in Genesis (1:26) where God gives man dominion over all living creatures. I spoke from notes and flatter myself that I did fairly well. I was warmly congratulated by the good pastor and his wife, and introduced at the close of the services to a number of the congregation.
“In the evening I preached on Faith, and from notes. I labored to be very original and succeeded. I recall maintaining that we could not exercise any more faith than God allotted to us, that since he was ‘the author and finisher of our faith,’ we might reasonably hold him responsible for our lack of faith provided we had prayed most earnestly for the proper faith—for sufficient faith. I also maintained that it were possible for one to have faith sufficient to secure an answer to a prayer that, while it benefited one might be harmful to many others. That God often denied a petitioner even when he had exercised the required faith because God saw that to answer the prayer—to bestow what was prayed for, would work harm instead of good to the supplicant. That it was more the nature of what we prayed for than the faith we evinced that influenced the Almighty to a decision. I spoke of the assassination of President Garfield, reminding the congregation that prayers were ascending to God from all parts of the world, and that many of the petitioners believed that God would spare his life. Yet he died. What conclusion must those who prayed for Garfield’s recovery reach in order to be consistent? Could it be other than that the Almighty deemed it best to remove James A. Garfield from this sphere of action? Therefore faith does not induce God to answer an unwise prayer.