CHAPTER IV.
Calling one day at a fine country-house in Western Pennsylvania, I found a prosperous Irish family of more than ordinary intelligence. I inquired if they wanted some good religious books. The father replied, “What kind of relagin do you teach?” I replied, “The holy catholic religion.” “Ah, it’s not the Roman-catholic relagin. What objection have you to the Roman-catholic relagin?” I replied that all that I desired was, to teach the people to repent and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and to lead holy lives, and that I was not going about to argue with people about their churches. Still he insisted on my telling him what objections I had to the Roman-catholic church.
At last I told him they violated the second commandment by the use of images in the worship of God. But this he denied. I asked him to get his Bible and compare it with mine. He brought out the Douay Catechism to prove he was right, and told me that was his Bible. I got mine; but he forbade my reading it, as it was a heretic’s Bible. I insisted on having Bible authority for the use of images in God’s worship. As the old man seemed to be at a loss to defend his position, one of his daughters, a beautiful girl, presented herself before me, and said, “I can give you Bible plenty for the use of images, and the good resulting from the use of them. What was it that Moses put up on the pole for the Israelites to look at when the fiery serpents bit them?” I explained to her that the brazen serpent was set up, not to be worshipped, but simply looked at as a type of Christ, to whom dying sinners may look and live. But all my efforts were in vain. As I left them, she was still asking me to repent, and come over to the true Roman-catholic church as the only place of safety.
A few days after, the Rev. Mr. J—— requested me to visit the town of S——, where he occasionally preached, and had made an appointment for me to address the people at night, preparatory to visiting all the families. He gave me a letter of introduction to one of his members, who lived a mile from the village, and who he expected would go with me. I came to his house near dark, almost frozen. He received me very coldly, and neither offered me food or company. I inquired the way to town, and soon left.
The night was dark, the snow deep, the cold intense, and I was an entire stranger in the place. As I rode along the street, every door and window was shut, till I came to a store. I tied my horse and stepped in, and found a large, fine-looking man sitting by the stove alone. By asking a few questions, I learned it was Mr. S——, the proprietor of the town. I told him I was glad to make his acquaintance. That I had come there at the request of the Rev. Mr. J——, to hold a meeting that night, and to spend a few days visiting his people and supplying them with good religious books, and I would be glad to have his counsel and advice as to the best way to do it.
Said he, “It depends very much, sir, on the kind of religious books you want to circulate here. I suppose you have the Confession of Faith of the Presbyterian church among them, and I can prove that it is full of falsehoods; and more than that, I want you to know, sir, that I have made a promise to kick out of my house every man that comes in it that has graduated at Jefferson College, and studied theology at the Western Seminary.” As he closed the sentence, he stood up before me, as if he was going to make good his promise. I requested him to wait till I should explain my object. I told him I had no Confessions of Faith, nor any denominational books; that they were all the books of the American Tract Society, and approved by nearly all evangelical Christians, and consequently not sectarian. And as to the other objection, I had never graduated either at Jefferson College or the Western Theological Seminary, consequently he was barking up the wrong tree. “Why,” said he, “are you not a Presbyterian preacher?” “No, sir,” said I, “I have not the honor to be a preacher.” He turned instantly and walked out, leaving me alone.
I stepped to the door, and asked a little boy who was passing if there was a Mr. G—— living in the town. “Yes,” said he, “he lives in the adjoining house.” I stepped to the door, and was cordially greeted by an old acquaintance. In a few minutes I was seated at a sumptuously supplied table, which I very much needed; and an hour after was in a school-house, holding forth to the people, with my belligerent friend for one of my hearers. I visited all the town; but Mr. S—— carefully avoided meeting me, always turning away to shun me; but I supplied his family with a good stock of books.
At the close of my labors in that town, I entered a very hilly region of country, and stopped over night with a Mr. W——, an aged, infirm man, who sent his son with me the next day to hunt up the cabins of the poor. The son had spent some years in a roving life, and seemed totally indifferent about religion.
In the first cabin we called at, we found a young woman in the last stages of a decline. I have seldom seen any soul so full of joy and peace. She talked more like an inhabitant of heaven than of earth. While we spoke of Christ’s love, and what he had done for her, I saw the tears course down my companion’s cheeks. When we left her he said, “Religion is a reality.”