CHAPTER II.
I left home for the field of labor assigned me on the first day of November, 1844.
On my way on horseback I came alongside of a young gentleman of very fine appearance. We immediately entered into conversation about the beautiful farms and fine improvements we passed.
When we had rode some distance, I observed a mile-stone, which reminded me of a promise made some years before, that I would never travel a mile or spend an hour alone with any person without talking on the subject of religion. I immediately set about to find something to make an introduction out of. The first thing that caught my eye was a very tall hickory pole, raised by one of the political parties of the time, and said I feared the political excitement was very seriously affecting the interests of the church.
The evasive reply of the elegant young man led me to suppose he was a gay, thoughtless young lawyer or physician, as I had discovered that he was an educated man.
I then observed to him that as we were providentially thrown together, and I had made a promise not to travel a mile or spend an hour with any one without speaking on the subject of religion, I hoped he had no objections to such conversation.
He said, “It is no doubt an important subject,” but said it in such a way that I still thought he was an irreligious man.
I then observed that I felt a deep interest in young men, especially as the destinies of the church and nation would soon be in their hands. That the only safeguard of either was real piety. I then repeated the text, “Except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” And after preaching him a sermon from it near a mile long, he observed,
“Well, sir, that is very good theology.”
The manner in which it was said led me to reply, “Perhaps I have run against a preacher.”