CHAPTER XIX.
Last Campaign—In Galesburg, Ill.—The United States Convention—Lombard University—Other Schools—Journey to Missouri—In Macon City—In Brookfield—St. Joseph and other Cities—Grove Meeting—On the Missouri Bottom—Beautiful Country—Preach in Fillmore and Many Other Places—Returned Home—Anti-Orthodox Preaching—Funeral Sermons—Death—Life—Conclusion.
Last Campaign—In Galesburg, Ill.—The United States Convention—Lombard University—Other Schools—Journey to Missouri—In Macon City—In Brookfield—St. Joseph and other Cities—Grove Meeting—On the Missouri Bottom—Beautiful Country—Preach in Fillmore and Many Other Places—Returned Home—Anti-Orthodox Preaching—Funeral Sermons—Death—Life—Conclusion.
My last long campaign was in Missouri and Illinois. Left Chicago, accompanied by Mrs. Manford, Tuesday night, September 16, 1866, and by sunrise the next morning we were in Galesburg, Ill., one hundred and sixty miles southward. The United States Convention of Universalists was holding its annual session in that place, and we tarried till its close. Met many clergymen from the East and West I had not before seen; and had the satisfaction of shaking hands with W. S. Balch, with whom I studied many years before, but had not beheld his face since I left his sanctum in Claremont, N. H., to come West. He is now pastor of the Universalist society in Galesburg. Years have changed the outer man, somewhat, but the inner man seems to be as vigorous, generous and brotherly as ever. Brother Balch has noble qualities of head and heart; and he has ever been faithful and successful in his high calling.
The Lombard University is located in Galesburg; and although “University” is rather a big name for such an institution—the West is fond of high sounding names—it is an excellent school, and is doing a great work. It combines an academy and college; its doors are open to both sexes, they having equal privileges. This is as it should be. The old custom of educating girls and boys apart is all wrong. Theylearn faster together than if educated separately. A healthy rivalry is induced, each sex being anxious to secure the approbation of the other; besides, associating together, not less in the school-room than at home tends to refine and invigorate both sexes. The property of this institution is one hundred thousand dollars, and about as much more has recently been subscribed for its benefit. It is destined to exert a vast influence in the West in favor of liberal principles.
The denomination has several other excellent institutions of learning in the United States. There is Tufts College, located in Medford, Mass., four miles from Boston. Its funds and real estate are worth eight hundred and five thousand dollars. It has a library embracing ten thousand volumes. In Canton, N. Y., we have two schools—the St. Lawrence University, and Theological School. The University has property worth one hundred and four thousand dollars. We also have an academy in Clinton, N. Y., called the Clinton Liberal Institute. It has property amounting to fifty thousand dollars. We likewise have a school in Westbrook, Me., three miles from Portland. It is one of the best institutions in the state, and its permanent fund is thirty thousand dollars. The Green Mountain Institute is located in Woodstock, Vt. A fine farm is connected with the school, and the average attendance is about one hundred. In Glover, Vt., the Orleans Liberal Institute is located. From seventy to one hundred pupils attend it, and its friends intend to increase its usefulness.
There are three other educational institutions being established by the denomination. One in Jefferson, Wis. It has so far progressed, that one term has been held. A fine academy building will soon be erected. In Barre, sixteen miles from Montpelier, the capital of Vermont, our brethren are establishing a school. Fifty thousand dollars have already been subscribed.In Franklin, Mass., a first class academy will soon be in operation. Dr. Dean, its founder, donated sixty thousand dollars, and the trustees have raised forty thousand more. A magnificent building is nearly finished on a beautiful site, with ample grounds.
This is a pretty fair record for so young a denomination as ours; and all this has been accomplished in about thirty-five years. But our work is only fairly begun in the educational field. More schools must be established; and those already in operation must be strengthened, and their usefulness increased. Proper education improves the head and the heart, and qualifies us to act with dignity and success our part on the stage of life.
September 20th. Mrs. Manford returned to Chicago, and at 5 o’clockP. M., I took cars for Quincy, one hundred miles south; and the next morning was steaming across the Missouri prairies to Macon City, sixty miles west of the great river. Most of the country is prairie, high, dry and rolling, with good soil, but thinly settled. Saw large herds of cattle, horses, mules and sheep, feeding on the vast savannas. Lectured in Macon City. A good congregation would immediately be gathered here, if a minister could be obtained. Two lawyers, especially, expressed much anxiety for such an arrangement. Macon is at the crossing of the Hannibal and St. Joseph, and North Missouri railroads, and is bound to be an important town.
September 22d. Rode to Brookfield, forty miles west. Crossed the dividing ridge between the Mississippi and Missouri rivers, two of the great rivers of the world. Most of the country is hilly, timber is plenty, and the soil middling. Brookfield is exactly midway between the two rivers. The railroad company has its machine shops here, and the town is in a flourishing condition. The country around is beautiful and productive. It is a charming locality for ahome. Rode into the country the next day, Sunday, eight miles, and talked to the people; returned in the afternoon, and lectured to a fair congregation.
September 25th. Proceeded to Chillicothe, forty miles toward the setting sun, and delivered my message. This is a fine town, and improving rapidly. We ought to have a church here, and could soon have one if proper effort was made. We always have large congregations here. I. M. Westfall, several years since, had a discussion in this place with a Methodist minister, and he made the dry bones shake.
September 27th. Journeyed to St. Joseph, about seventy miles. This is the largest town in North Missouri. It is located on the east bank of the Missouri river; has quite a city appearance; the streets are paved, and the business houses are chiefly brick, and of a substantial character. This, and three other towns within seventy-five miles, are striving for the mastery—Kansas City, Leavenworth and Lawrence. Time only will determine which will win. But there is bound to be one large commercial center somewhere in this region. Which of the four will be that city? I refer to 1875 for an answer.
September 28th. Rode to Savannah, thirteen miles northward, and lectured in the evening. R. K. Jones, an active and enterprising man, preaches here monthly. Expect to spend three weeks traveling where there are no railroads; and as I have no conveyance of my own, shall depend on a kind Providence, and good friends for transportation.
September 29th. Rode horseback to Fillmore, ten miles; a sprightly boy went with me to lead the horse back; and on the next day, Sunday, was conveyed by a friend, to Mound City, eighteen miles, where I delivered a long discourse at eleven o’clock, in a beautiful grove, and in the evening spoke in a school-house, four miles distant.
October 1st. Rode a borrowed horse twelve miles,and lectured at night. Was sick two days from excessive speaking. Met a woman who heard me in Ohio twenty-five years ago. Am now sixty miles above St. Joseph, on the Missouri river bottom. The soil is as rich as was that of the far-famed valley of Egypt. Most of the bottom is prairie, and the land dry, warm and easily tilled. It is a charming region—beautiful beyond description. A few miles west, the Missouri bluffs in Kansas and Nebraska are visible. Although barely able to sit on the horse, I rode twelve miles.
October 4th. The ride did me good—am all right again. Went in a buggy to Oregon, twelve miles, and heard an excellent discourse by R. K. Jones. About one year previous, I delivered three discourses in this town, the first of the kind heard there, and they caused considerable excitement; whereupon Mr. Smith, a Presbyterian clergyman, proposed debating, to which I consented. We settled the preliminaries; but Mr. Smith’s ardor for the discussion soon abated, and the subject was dropped. But another party is now trying to get up a discussion with me, and they are corresponding with Mr. Summerhill, of Cincinnati, Ohio, a noted minister in his order, about engaging in it.
October 5th. Went to Fillmore—rode part way, and walked part way—and lectured in the evening. A society will probably soon be organized here, as we have a goodly number of friends within a few miles of the place. At a previous visit to this town, a preacher replied to my discourse. There were several clergymen of different denominations present, and they delegated this one to be spokesman. But he yielded so much that his colleagues were disgusted and said, “he might as well have proclaimed himself a Universalist.”
October 7th. A friend conveyed me on Sunday morning, to Whitesville, eighteen miles, where Ispoke on that day twice. Here also a society could be formed.
October 8th. A gentleman and lady took me in a buggy to Rochester, sixteen miles, where I spoke to a large congregation, but found only a few who sympathized with me.
October 9th. A kind friend conveyed me to my next appointment, in Maysville, twenty-five miles eastward. He took his three boys with him, he said, that they might see the country for they were all recently from Ohio. Men and boys were delighted with the country we passed over, as well they might be, for it is a lovely land—high, rolling, rich prairie. A large number attended the meeting. Probably not a dozen present had before heard a discourse on the Restitution. I hope some good seed was sown, and, that it will germinate, bud, blossom, and yield a rich harvest.
October 10th. Rode twenty-five miles to-day, and preached at night, and the next day. These were the first sermons on our faith ever heard in Gallatin. A Congregationalist minister gave notice that he should reply to them, two days subsequently. In a conversation with him he remarked, that his denomination were the “liberalsof the evangelical school.” They may be in the West, but they certainly are not in the East. Their creed is cold, cruel, intolerant, Calvinism. There is not a particle of liberality or generosity in it. It is as rigid as iron bars, and cold as icebergs.
October 12th. Rode horseback sixteen miles, to Bancroft, and lectured. Although our liberal faith had not before been publicly taught here, I found many friends. A large family by the name of Hendricks, all formerly Dunkards, reside here, and they are devoted believers in the Restitution. Most of that denomination, I have met with, agree with us in the final redemption of humanity, and they are generallytruly christian people. Elhanan Winchester once said, “If God has a people on earth, it is the Dunkards.”
October 13th. A friend took me to Trenton, eighteen miles, where I delivered three sermons. They were the first of the kind in the town, or county, and large numbers attended. A preacher did his best to keep the people away, but he was nearly deserted, for the people were bound to hear the “new doctrine.” I here met a man by the name of John Murray, who said he was a distant relative of the sainted Rev. John Murray. When I was in Iowa City recently, I found a man by the name of Winchester, who is a relative of Rev. Elhanan Winchester, of blessed memory. They have good blood in their veins.
October 15th. Conveyed to Lindville, fifteen miles, and preached at night. The people here had not before heard one of our faith. Some believed, and some disbelieved.
October 16th. Rode fourteen miles on horseback, and walked six miles. Came to a stream where there was no bridge, and pulling off boots and socks, waded through, and passed on to fill my appointments. Lectured twice in this place, Milan, to full houses.
October 18th. Went to Greencastle, fifteen miles, and lectured twice. There is a small society in this village, and two brother preachers are residing near by—W. Brise and G. S. Ayers. It is to be hoped they will hereafter devote more of their time to the ministry.
October 20th. Lectured in Unionville twice, and once in the neighborhood; and the next day was conveyed by a friend to Lancaster, twenty miles still farther onward, where I also spoke twice. The next day, rode to Memphis, or rather rode and walked, twenty-five miles, where I spoke twice, and once in the country. From thence was conveyed by a friend to Bentonsport, Iowa, where I took the cars and went home.
I recently heard a discourse by one of our ministers, and he gave Orthodoxy an awful cudgeling. I do not like that kind of preaching. It is too much of the meat-axe order. The christian minister should preach the gospel in all its fulness—present it in its doctrinal, moral, and spiritual aspect. But cutting, slashing, and banging, at this creed, and that creed, at this sect and that sect, is not exactly preaching the gospel. It may be the minister’s duty, now and then, under peculiar circumstances, to handle other creeds without gloves; but let him remember and do his duty in this respect in a loving spirit. But there should be but little of this kind of controversial sermonizing. Telling people of the beauty and glory of truth and virtue, and urging a practical knowledge of the same, is far better than to be fighting Orthodoxy. It must be admitted, that some of the fathers of our denomination, in this respect, have set a bad example. They had too much of the Ishmaelite spirit, and many of us have imbibed of it copiously. True, they were assailed by slander and falsehood, in private and in public, at home and abroad, when they went in, and when they went out; and it required a copious infusion of the Divine Spirit to be perfect lambs under such circumstances. And our people in the West and South, especially the ministers, are still pursued with the same maliciousness, injustice and cruelty, and it requires remarkable good nature to be thus treated without striking back. But some of us have rather overdone this matter of “using up” Orthodoxy. Not, it is to be hoped, that we have been actuated by the fiendish spirit of some of our enemies, but we spend too much precious time, and waste too much material, on their creeds. Better present the truth in its native beauty and grace, and the world will soon fall in love with it, and take it to it’s heart.
I had been at home but a few days, when I wascalled to the southern part of Illinois, to deliver two funeral discourses. One of them was on the occasion of the death of Mrs. Middleworth, an estimable woman, cut down in the vigor of womanhood, and in the midst of usefulness. A large number attended the service; some came as far as fifteen miles. Surely, if ever we need consolation, it is when death enters our abode, and snatches therefrom a dear friend. Sensitive ties are then severed, and affection’s nerves receive a dreadful shock. The death of a friend is like an untimely frost on an orange grove; it may indeed kill but one, but it blights the whole grove. But death is no new thing under the sun. For six thousand years mankind have been dying. It is estimated that sixty persons die every minute. Every hour in the day, week, month, year, century, thousands of human beings breathe their last breath, and heave their last sigh. All over the world are dying scenes, and funeral scenes. An army of the living are employed to bury an army of the dead. And this sad work has been going on for sixty centuries.
How true are the words of the wise man: “One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh.” Death and the grave are never satisfied. The high and the low, the old and the young, the saint and the sinner, must alike be prostrated in death when the king of terror hurls his unerring dart. As ocean wave succeeds wave, so generation of men succeed generation, and each in its turn is borne to, and dashes and dies upon the fearful shore of time. Every thing on earth speaks of mutation and death. The lofty marble monument, erected to commemorate human genius; the stately palace of wealth, pomp and greatness, are being crumbled to dust by the busy and untiring hand of time. Saith the Bible, “All flesh is grass.” As the grass withereth, and the flower fadeth, so with mortal man. The decree has gone forth from the court of heaven, and cannot be revoked,“Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” No appeal is admitted; no reversal of the judgment need be expected.Die we all must!But how little is this dreadful fact realized by many! How many spend life as if they believed it would never end! To the accumulation of earthly treasures, or the advancement of ambitious schemes, multitudes devote all their energy, all their talent, all their precious time. Unwise men! God made us for more noble pursuits; and he who devotes all of life’s blessed moments to the accumulation of earth’s perishable treasures, answers not to the end of his being, is not a friend to himself, but rather his own greatest enemy.
But when the decrees of the Almighty shall be executed; when dust shall have returned to dust, and ashes to ashes, shall we be no more forever? Will death never yield his prey? Shall we share the fate of the beetle and the worm? Will the tender ties of love and affection, which are severed by the cold hand of death, with weeping eyes and bleeding heart, never be reunited? And when we consign our dear friends to the grave, shall we never more behold them? Never more enjoy their society, which society made a heaven of earth? And when we shall bid farewell to earth, and close our eyes in death, shall we be annihilated? Some there are, who answer these important questions in the affirmative. Some there are, who tell us, that death is an eternal sleep, that the grave and the worm will devour our all; that we are like the bubble on the wide ocean, seen for a moment, and then disappear to be known no more forever. But thank God, we have reason to hope for better things. We have reason to hope that there is a life beyond this life, a world beyond this world, where friends will meet, where the great family of God will meet, to part no more; that on the blissful plains of immortality, the severed links of humanity will be welded in an immortal chain, never more to be severed.
While in the neighborhood where this service was held, I delivered two other discourses, to great congregations. From thence I went to Dudley, and delivered another funeral discourse, on the occasion of the death of Mrs. Sutherland, a devoted believer in our most holy faith, and an excellent woman. It is sometimes said by the opposers of the Great Salvation, that it is good to live by, but not to die by. But it seems to me, that what is good to live by, must be good to die by, for what prepares us to live, prepares us to die. When the opposer tells me, that my religion “is good to live by,” I thank him for such testimony in its favor; but I cannot return the compliment, cannot admit that his creed, let it be what it may, if it denies the essential features of the Restitution, “is good to live by.” Is Atheism, which denies a God, and orphanizes the world, “good to live by?” Is Deism, that denies a Savior, and doubts an hereafter, “good to live by?” Is Partialism, that represents God as cruel, revengeful and unjust; as loving some and hating others; blessing some and cursing others, world without end, “good to live by?” Men can live with such creeds in their heads, as they can live on horse ham and mule stake; but it is living at a poor dying rate.
But then, this faith so full of grace “is not good to die by.” But why not? It represents God as a universal Father, Christ a universal Savior, and heaven the home to which all are tending. Is not faith in such a God, such a Savior, and such a Destiny, good in the hour of death? The truth is, nothing but this can afford peace and consolation in that dark and solemn hour. Atheism, Deism, Partialism, are found wanting in man’s dying moments, as when in the possession of health and vigor. True, many close their eyes in death with blissful hopes, who do not accept the faith of God’s Universal Grace, and for this reason—in their dying hour they gaze entirely on the brightside of their creed, for it has a bright side as well as a dark side. They think they can read their “title clear to mansions in the skies,” hence depart in peace. But if they looked for an instant on the dark side of their faith; if they considered that they may be mistaken with regard to their own salvation, and instead of going to heaven may go to hell. And then, around their dying couch are their near and dear friends; and for aught they know, all of them in a few years will be lifting up their eyes in eternal torment, and begging for a drop of water to cool their flaming tongues—if the dying deemed this possible, and it is possible if Orthodoxy is true, would not the thought turn joy into the bitterest sorrow, and songs of praise into howls of despair? But the truth is adapted to all stages and conditions of humanity. It is our counselor, guide, and hope, in the strength and vigor of manhood; our staff in sickness and old age; ourallwhen our eyes are closing in death, and the grave is opening at our feet.
After speaking in five other places in the south part of the state, I returned home; and had been there but two days, when a telegraphic despatch summoned me to attend the funeral of Mrs. Jameson, in Marshall county, Ill., over one hundred miles distant. When turning away from her grave, her husband remarked: “There is buried one of the best women that ever lived.” That is the best eulogy that can be pronounced over the grave of the dead. The departed suffered for months, by day and by night, the most excruciating physical agony, but not a murmur dropped from her lips. She knew that sickness was unto death, and she welcomed the approach of the angel of deliverance. A good life and a christian faith, are blessed friends in the sunset of life. As I am writing about the last page of this book, a letter, with a black border, from a woman in Missouri is received, announcing the death of her husband, and requestingme to attend his funeral. It was his desire, she writes, that I should do so, and I must respect his dying wish.
The common view of death, I am satisfied, is too dark and gloomy. When we look upon the cold and rigid form, the closed eyes and pale brow, of the dead, a sense of gloom, and a vague feeling of fear comes over us; but we should remember, that the being that lately animated that now lifeless body, is a resident of the “house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” But we are oppressed too much by what we see, and have not faith enough in the reality of a life in heaven. And hence it is, that in the chamber of death, at the time of the Holy Passover, bitter sobbings are heard, in the place of song of rejoicing; and hence it is that the coffin, our second cradle, is followed to the grave by those who are arrayed in gloomy habiliments expressive of grief and sorrow. To those who have passed into the house of “many mansions,” death must appear in a very different light. The two grand eras in our life below, its beginning and its close, birth and death, must be viewed by them as really beautiful and equally divine. The departed know by experience what death is. They have tasted the cup, and know that it contains, not a poisonous draught, but the wine of life. They know that this is a world of shadows, not the world above.
When the hour of death arrives, the couch of the dying is surrounded by invisible friends, as by those who still abide in the flesh; and one hand of the dying is held by those to whom he is now to bid adieu; and the other is taken by those whom the eye of flesh can no longer see. “On the one side, there is weeping and almost despair; on the other, the joyful hymn of welcome. Surely tears are a relief to men in this mortal state; and I would not even seem to say that they are wrong. I say only this, that the occasion of our most intense grief, would be no occasion of grief,were death understood by us as it is by those who know by experience—by that holy experience—what it is. Were we able to follow, with open eyes, those who are dear to us, as they pass away, and see them as they are in the Better Land, and know how they are surrounded and employed, we should not mourn as we now do when friends depart, nor should we feel any temptation thus to mourn, and the fear of death would be wholly unknown to us.”
This, I believe, to be the correct view of death; and its general prevalence would dispel the gloom that now hangs over the grave, and save the world many tears and griefs. The day will come when the inhabitants of the earth, having a proper estimate of death, and the hereafter, will wonder that we regarded death with the gloomy apprehension we do. When that day blesses the world, there will be no more death, as most of mankind now regard it.
To conclude: I have innumerable reasons to be grateful to Almighty God, that I have lived so long, enjoyed almost uninterrupted good health, had so many friends, and been permitted to labor in the gospel ministry. Truly, the Lord has blessed me all the days of my life. I have never had but two spells of sickness, and they were induced by hard labor in hot weather. Notwithstanding my extensive traveling, I have never met with the slightest accident, and I have journeyed by sea and land, in sailing vessels and steamboats, on railroads and on horseback, in stages, and in wagons of all descriptions. Have traveled in dangerous localities by day and by night, but a penknife is the largest weapon I ever carried. One more personal remark—I never snuffed, chewed, or smoked tobacco; neither did I ever poison my body or my soul with a glass of liquor—do not know whisky from brandy, and do not covet the knowledge.