The third year on the district brought the usual routine of duties and hardships. By the help of Brother John Dodds, who gave me fifty dollars, I was enabled to purchase a horse and buggy, paying $125 for the entire outfit. This arrangement relieved me of much walking. The horses and mules occasionally used during the previous years were borrowed or hired. My muleback riding, however, was suddenly broken off by a rather painful incident which occurred one night. Striking a bit of good road, I spurred the animal into a gallop, but something happened; its forelegs seemed to give way, and it turned a complete somersault. With my arms extended, I went on, like a flying-machine, several feet before I struck the ground. The fall nearly killed me. I rolled about in agony for a while before I thought of the mule, but when I was able to get up I observed the treacherous beast leisurely eating grass in the fence corner near by, as if nothing had happened. I never liked a mule after that, and, to the best of my knowledge, have not been on one since.
I never thought it out of place to have a little innocent fun once in a while. “Laugh and grow fat,” is an old adage which has more in it than some people suppose. A long, wry face is a poor sign of piety. To assume a look of seriousness, as though religion were made up of clouds and shadows and disappointments, is a false representation of the Christian life. If any person on earth has a right to be cheerful and to smile all over his face, it is the one who honestly endeavors to serve God, and has his eyes throneward all the while. Yes—
“A little nonsense now and then
Is relished by the wisest men.”
Certainly, then, there is nothing wrong in those not so wise enjoying it.
One blustery March day, after a long, irksome ride over the hills, I was passing a farm-house where two young lads were chopping wood. Here is an opportunity, I thought, to have a little sport; so, reining in my horse, I called, “Say, boys, can you tell me how far it is to where I want to go?” In an instant one of them replied, “Yes, sir; three lengths of a fool; get off and measure.” It was no time to talk back, or to interpose objections to such rudeness with a presiding elder. I had gotten myself into the difficulty, so had to get out as gracefully as possible. Bidding them the time of day, I passed on, descanting in an undertone upon the subject of depravity, and wondering what was to become of the rising generation. Since then I have deemed it wise to approach the average boy somewhat cautiously, as one never knows when or in what direction his gun will go off.
About this time, and perhaps in connection with this trip, I had an amusing experience with a brother who appeared before the quarterly conference for license to preach. When asked to state his views on depravity, he frankly admitted that he did not fully understand the doctrine, but said he believed that man was “teetotally deprived.” Before the examination was over the conference was clear in its judgment that it could not afford to credential a man who was deprived of common sense.
During the year it was my privilege and pleasure to convey the greetings of my conference first to the West Virginia Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and then to the Baptist Association of the State. Both were large, influential bodies, and received with marked cordiality the messenger sent by the United Brethren.
While our people of the conference were loyal, and believed in a robust, aggressive denominationalism, they were free from that narrow, bigoted sectarianism which is so unlike the religion we profess. They were cordial and generous in their treatment of others, and always ready to grasp the hand of fellowship, no matter by whom extended. They believed in union, and do yet. As far back as 1870, the following was spread upon the conference minutes: