Eight years of earnest study followed, years full of happiness, because they were years of progress, of growing religious experience, of expanding intellectual and spiritual vision. The dream of his uncared for boyhood was in process of realization. He enjoyed the confidence of teachers and scholars alike, for he was the soul of honor, and his word was the word of truth. His vacations were spent in teaching in the common schools of Louisiana. Success always crowned his efforts; his schools were usually full to overflowing. He taught in the Sunday-schools and made himself useful in every form of Christian service. On one occasion the school house was destroyed by fire, but nothing daunted, the enthusiastic teacher rallied the neighbors, and with them and the scholars he went into the woods, chopped down the trees, hewed the logs, and in a few days replaced the old building with a better, and the school went on more successfully than ever.
And so on till the end of his life, difficulties were faced bravely and successfully. With the assistance of friends, a cork leg took the place of the pole which he had lashed to the stump of his lost limb. After completing the normal course, he took the usual course in theology.
On Vermillion Bay, not far from the Gulf Coast, and at the terminus of a branch of the Southern Pacific Railroad, about twenty miles from Bayou Teche, the stream that keeps green and beautiful the year round that section of Louisiana which was first settled by the exiled Acadians and made famous in Longfellow's "Evangeline," is a thriving village. In the patois of the country the people are called "Cajians," a corruption of Acadians. As a rule, they are non-progressive and ignorant. But the spirit of modern progress, brought in on the railroad, is putting new life into old customs.
In this village just waking into its new life, a humble man of faith, in the year 1885, organized a Congregational church. The organizer of this new church, having only a limited education, soon found himself at the end of his resources. The people were still hungry and still unfed. One plants, another waters. Unknown to the people, and in his own good way and time, God was preparing to answer their prayer for a shepherd who could lead them into the green pastures and by the side of quiet waters.
The Arkansas lad, proud of the possession of his normal and theological diplomas, and now ready for service, was sent by the A. M. A. to this prosperous village in the beautiful Teche country. When Mr. H. arrived in the fading twilight of a June evening, and looked over the situation—a rude, unfinished edifice, a scattered congregation, and a membership that had diminished almost to the vanishing point—for the first time he began to have serious doubts whether after all he had not mistaken his calling. After much searching, only ten or twelve discouraged members could be found. Neither party was unduly impressed with the other. His doubt that he could do anything for the church was probably fully respected by the members as they looked him over and took his measure. The thoughts that came to him that night as he lay upon his restless and dreamless pillow, were decidedly Jonah-like. Nor were the means lacking to follow the example of that ancient prophet. Ships lay at anchor in Vermillion Bay ready to carry him out into the gulf and the great sea beyond. The question what he should eat and drink, and wherewithal he should be clothed, seemed to justify his flight. He was now learning that missionary service is a fine thing to talk about in prayer meetings and missionary gatherings, but that the reality often possesses a stern and forbidding countenance. Nor was much reflection needed to show him that though the ships might take him away from the place of duty, they could not take him away from duty itself; that it were better to bear poverty and privation than to bear a guilty conscience.
It is always darkest before day. In a few weeks an ordaining council has assembled, his old pastor and theological teacher being among the number. The harvest was ripe, waiting for the reapers to put in the sickle, and what began as ecclesiastical council ended in a gracious revival. The Arkansas lad was now a minister; the dream of his boyhood was rapidly fulfilling.
Three years and a half passed. The field which at first seemed so barren of promises had proved to be rich in opportunities. The Louisiana Congregational Association holds its annual meeting with him. His old pastor sends three other teachers. One of them, the wife of "the Boss," returns with the other members of the ordaining council to see what progress has been made.
Yes, this must be the place; for the railroad stops here, and yonder is Vermillion Bay, and the anchored ships. This, too, must be the young pastor; his limp betrays his identity, but the face, whose pure native hue three years ago was darkened by the cloud of doubt is now wreathed in smiles. Here, too, is the church, the same, yet not the same; its former disfigured and unwashed face now shines in a new coat of paint; the unfinished and leaky bell-tower has been repaired and beautified; and those old benches, apparently designed for those condemned to do penance, have been replaced by comfortable modern seats, so that the worshipper's attention is no longer diverted from the sermon by the painful consciousness of his physical sufferings.
But these changes, excellent in themselves, are by no means the highest test of these years of faithful and consecrated service. The twelve members with whom the new pastor began, have been nearly sextupled; the Sunday-school has been organized, enlarged and developed; a flourishing Christian Endeavor Society started; and right conceptions of practical righteousness enforced. The pastor's conception of his ministry includes a practical interest in education, and since his advent an increasing stream of young people has been flowing to Straight University. Thrifty himself, his contagious enthusiasm has not only affected his own flock, but the community generally, filling them with ambition to save their humble earnings, and become owners of their own homes, and send their children to school.
The esteem in which Mr. H. is held by the best white people of the town was well illustrated at the recent meeting of the State Association. They not only crowded into the church, filling every available space for standing, but stood outside at the windows for hours in earnest attention, in the chilly night air. So great had their interest become that the last night of the Association, one white man offered the pastor any price for a reserved seat for himself and lady friends, and the town representative wrote him a polite note asking for a seat for himself and family, and the next day the white people offered to procure the courthouse, that we might have a larger place for our meeting.