A few weeks later the Rockville quarterly conference granted him a license to preach. The action was taken in his absence. J. P. White was the preacher in charge and Thomas M. Hamilton was the presiding elder. The action of the quarterly conference was almost a superfluous formality, as he was now so greatly in demand that he could not well avoid preaching.
The boy preacher was a popular character. To see a man on the ante meridian of life in the pulpit was at that time quite unusual. The popular prejudice was in favor of men who had spent the major part of their lives on the farm or in business, thus acquiring a competence that would enable them to proclaim that salvation is free without being embarrassed or embarrassing their congregations on the money question. Hence, a diminutive lad of seventeen, weighing only about eighty pounds, exercising the ministerial function was in itself sufficient to attract the multitudes. Wherever he preached he was greeted by immense audiences. By many he was regarded as a prodigy, though he could not be classed as such, prodigies seldom accomplishing more than to afford amusement for curious spectators. It is true, however, that he displayed qualities unusual for one of his years, though it must be admitted that the greater part of his power lay in his intense religious zeal and earnestness.
Some characteristic incidents in this part of his ministry will not only be of interest in themselves, but will at the same time serve to illustrate his unique individuality. He went on one occasion to fill an appointment at what was known as the Rough and Ready School House. The name was justified by the prevailing social conditions. Like Paul on Mars Hill, he found that at least some of the people were very religious, though their religious energy was not always directed to the best advantage. Not infrequently does it transpire that men will fight for their religion even when they are utterly averse to the practice of it, a fact which had a forcible illustration in this particular service. He preached with his usual energy. The house was crowded and the sermon seemed to be well received. There happened to be present a minister of what was designated as the Campbellite persuasion. Evidently the sermon did not coincide with his theological bias. He asked permission to say a few words as the speaker took his seat. The permission granted, he sallied forth with a tirade of abuse and denunciation of the young preacher and his theology in which his passion played a larger part than either his judgment or his conscience. When he finally ran down, Newgent arose in a calm manner and said, “Brother, with your way of applying Scripture, I can prove that Eve was the mother of a turkey buzzard.” “Prove it, then,” shouted back the irascible theologue. “Well, the Bible says that Eve was the mother of all living, and that includes turkey buzzards. Let us be dismissed,” and calling the audience to their feet, he pronounced the benediction before his assailant had time to reply.
At another time, with his brother, John Newgent, he happened to drop in at a Methodist camp meeting in Sullivan County. They arrived just in time for the morning service. A number of ministers were seated on the platform, among them being Rev. Hayden Hayes, the presiding elder. Rev. Mr. Hayes had met Newgent on a former occasion, and as soon as he saw him enter the camp, rushed back and taking him by the arm, led him to the platform. Hayes was a strong, portly man, and the delicate lad was helpless in his grasp; thus he was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and was informed that he must preach. Though he vainly sought to be excused, yet he was equal to the emergency. He had proceeded about ten minutes with his discourse, when a man sitting a few feet in front of the platform was converted and began to shout. He continued, and four others in the congregation broke loose in like manner, all of them having been converted through the effect of the sermon, and the discourse disappeared in a whirlwind of praise that completely drowned the speaker’s voice. Up to that time there had been no move in the meeting.
John Newgent was imbued with the old-school Baptist doctrine and had not sympathized with his brother’s preaching propensities. After resuming their journey they rode for a time in silence. Finally the older brother said, “Jack, you know I have always opposed your preaching. But I want to say that I have no further objection to it; but,” he added with quivering lips, “I want you to pray for me.” The sermon had touched his heart.
Though urgent demands were made upon the boy preacher to stay and assist in the meeting, he was unable to do so, and heard nothing further from it until after he had returned from the war, when by chance he again passed through the vicinity. He stopped at the home of a Mrs. Mayfield, on whose farm the camp was located, to get his dinner and his horse fed. As he was taking his leave, having paid his bill, he chanced to observe the camp ground a short distance away. Up to that time he was not aware that he was in the immediate vicinity of it. He inquired of his hostess concerning the camp meetings. She told him that but one such meeting had been held, though the intention was to make it a permanent institution. The unsettled condition of times during the Rebellion prevented the plan from being carried out.
“How was that meeting?” Newgent asked, as one who had a peculiar interest in it.
“Oh, it was a grand success. There was a little Baptist preacher from near Lafayette happened in and preached one morning, and just set things on fire. From that time on the meetings were powerful.”
“What was the fellow’s name?” he asked, but she could not recall it.