The Experiences of Uncle Jack: Being a Biography of Rev. Andrew Jackson Newgent

by W. Ed. Snyder

The school house was three miles from the Maddox home. The school was maintained on the basis that “whosoever will may come.” There was no penalty for tardiness or absence, but as young Newgent possessed a real thirst for knowledge and was in the habit of making the most of whatever he undertook, his attendance was more regular than the average. However, the sum total of his schooling was limited to three terms of about three months each, an aggregate of nine months. Meager as were his school advantages, they were well improved and furnished a foundation for self-culture upon which he built as only a genius can. He learned to read in less than four weeks, and his progress was correspondingly rapid throughout. His real school was not bounded by the walls of the log school house; it was rather the great school of life with its harsh discipline and inexhaustible curriculum; and in this he grew to be the peer of the ripest products of educational institutions. “Opportunities,” he says, in his characteristic way, “the woods has always been full of opportunities. I had splendid opportunities when I was a boy, and so did my companions; but many of them, like some young folks now, failed to see them.” He saw what many fail to see, that opportunities are not so much in our environment as in ourselves, and that success is not determined by outward circumstances, but by one’s own will and energy.

A habit early formed was that of turning everything to account in the pursuit of knowledge. Mrs. Newgent, anxious to encourage her children’s propensities for study, furnished the home with such reading matter as her means would permit. Though the family were separated most of the time, they came together at frequent intervals. On these occasions the time was well spent in reading and in discussing current topics. Whatever was read became the subject of conversation. These conversations often took the form of argument, in which the various sides of a subject were presented and zealously defended. Thus, he early displayed and developed an aptitude for argumentative discussion, which made him a master in debate, and is a strong element in all his public discourses.

His conversion occurred when he was about ten years old, while still in the service of Mr. Maddox, a benefit which was not considered in the contract with his employer. This took place during a gracious revival at the Canaan Methodist church, of which his employer was a member and was serving at the time as class leader and janitor. The meeting had been in progress for a number of days; many had found the Savior, and the community was deeply stirred. He had been sent to open the church and build the fire for the evening service. While going quietly about his duties, all alone, the impression came to him quite vividly that he ought to be a Christian, and he resolved to go to the “mourner’s bench” that night. He was never long in making up his mind, and when a decision was once made, it was as a law of the Medes and Persians. So he went to the altar that night and each succeeding night for more than a week. One evening as he was listening to the sermon, conviction became so intense that in his extremity he left the house. Though it was a cold night and the ground was covered with snow, he stole out in the woods. Kneeling in the snow, this youthful Jacob wrestled with God in prayer. How long he tarried, he could not tell, but faith triumphed, and the next he knew the woods were resounding with his shouts of victory. Rushing into the church while the preacher was yet talking, he put an end to the sermon by his shouting and praising God. The congregation was electrified. Soon the demonstration became general, and for a time pandemonium held sway; but it was of a sort in which there were both method and meaning, for its source was from above.

Like God’s servant of old, he could say, “My heart is fixed.” He joined the church and from that time never missed an opportunity to pray and testify in public or private. At that time children did not receive much attention from the church. Churches were strong on saving souls from damnation, but the idea of saving the entire life for service had not taken deep root. As a result of the revival there was a large class of “probationers.” When the period of probation had expired, according to the church law, and they were to be admitted into full membership, his name was not on the list. He was not considered a member; at least that was his version of it, and the only logical conclusion the case would warrant. It was a sore disappointment, but of too delicate a nature to mention to his elders. So he kept his feelings to himself.

Thus matters stood for little more than a year, when he learned that there was to be a quarterly meeting at the Otterbein United Brethren Church a few miles away. This church belonged to the Rockville Circuit of the Wabash Conference. Rev. William Sherrill was the pastor. The presiding elder, who was to hold the quarterly conference, was Rev. Samuel Zuck. Both were strong and good men. Jack had never attended a United Brethren service. What knowledge he had of the Church was gained through conversations overheard in the Maddox home. Ministers being frequently entertained there, conversation at such times naturally took to religious channels. As this was an age when churches did not entertain the most fraternal feelings toward one another, these conversations were not calculated, as a rule, to produce a favorable opinion of a rival denomination. His interest in churches and religion was genuine, born of a desire to know the truth. Hence, is was not mere curiosity that led him to obtain his employer’s permission to spend Saturday and Sunday with a neighbor in the Otterbein community so that he might attend the services of the quarterly meeting.

The Church proved to be his affinity. Whatever misgivings he had, vanished one by one. The general atmosphere of the first service harmonized with his temperament. There was spirit in the singing. His heart burned within him as he listened to the eloquent sermon by the presiding elder; and when the pastor followed, as the custom was, with a warm exhortation, he was enraptured. He resolved to join the Church. As usual, the decision was made without much preliminary. He knew where he stood, and stood there with both feet. When he returned, his employer, as well as his own folks, was thunderstruck to learn that he had become a full-fledged United Brethren. Having put his hand to the plow, he never turned back. “I have been so busy,” is a common saying with him, “that I have never had time to backslide.”

It should be said in justice to the church where he first joined, that his name had been entered upon the book, but by mistake it was placed in the list with the full members. This accounts for his not being received with the probationers, to which class he belonged, and led to the conclusion that he was not considered a member. Thus an apparently insignificant thing may prove to be a matter of vital importance.

As a boy he possessed pronounced convictions and a keen sense of religious obligation. This is demonstrated by an incident which occurred while he was in the employ of Mr. Jerry Rush, a short time after leaving the service of Mr. Maddox. Mr. Rush was a well-to-do farmer and stock dealer. Neither he nor his wife made any profession of religion, though their lives were regarded as exemplary and above question in other respects. Some of the men who worked on the farm, however, were of the baser sort. It seemed strange to young Newgent that a man of Mr. Rush’s habits would surround himself with men who were utterly destitute of moral scruples or of the commonest decencies. To him their vulgarity and profanity were a source of constant annoyance. At one time as their coarse jests were grating on his sensitive ears, he was impressed with the idea that this uncouth crowd afforded him a field for missionary work. The impression was not long in taking definite shape. It came with the force of a challenge, a bugle call to duty, a call that he never failed to heed. His mind was made up that he would offer prayer with these men before they retired that evening if Mr. Rush would grant him the privilege.

It was a bold resolve, an ordeal from which a braver heart might well have shrunk. Let eloquent tongues proclaim the praise of those who face death at the cannon’s mouth, or the inspired pen immortalize the hero, who, amid the applause of admiring multitudes, imperils his own life to save another; but who would not count it a worthy act to place a laurel wreath upon the brow of a fourteen-year-old lad who dared to face, not one Goliath, but a company of Goliaths, with the simple weapon of faith, and demand that they bow before their God while he offered a petition in behalf of their needy souls? Yet this resolute purpose was to undergo a severe test. The fiercest battles are fought in our own hearts. As the time drew near, he felt his courage slipping away. He stole out to the barn for a time of secret prayer, that he might be equal to the emergency. Feeling comforted and strengthened, he started to the house to execute his plan. On reaching the yard gate his courage seemed to take flight, and he could go no farther. He went back to the place of prayer. On the second venture he got as far as the door, when his strength again vanished. Not to be beaten, he went back to the barn to fight the battle to a finish. The third effort won the day. He hastened to the house, determined not to give the enemy a chance. The men were sitting about the fire. Without a word by way of preliminary, he stepped up to Mr. Rush and asked permission to kneel with them in prayer. The permission was granted, and a solemn hush came over the startled company as they listened while the boy, with trembling voice and stammering accents, poured out his soul to God. He then sought his bed with the consciousness that he had done his duty. A sweet peace filled his soul and he lay for hours in ecstacy of joy.