to rejoice over the demolishing that we were to get. We got a seat in front of the pulpit, and there was a fluttering in camp when our presence was discovered. The old veteran's face showed the disappointment and embarrassment he felt. A few minutes' meditation seemed to bring relief. He started off calmly, but soon warmed up and turned his batteries upon the pedos and gave them as severe a castigation as we ever heard. They were now in a similar condition to the hosts of Midian when Gideon made his attack. This, however, did not excuse him with us. I told him, soon as he dismissed, that I had been informed of the purpose of his appointment for that occasion, that I did not propose to defend Campbellism, but knew enough of these matters to know that the pure and unadulterated gospel of Christ was nicknamed Campbellism in order to poison the minds of the people. And I was ready to defend that gospel under any and all circumstances. He seemed a little disappointed in that the whipping he gave the pedos did not excuse him with us.
We were now preaching in Carrolton once a month. A few disciples lived in that vicinity, but none lived in town. Capt. Tenison, a brother to preacher Tenison, of Missouri, lived in town, and kindly requested us to make his house our home. The Methodists had threatened to import a man that could show up our teaching. On lord's day we were waiting for time to go to church, being governed by Mr. Tenison's clock, as to time. It was, however, a little slow. An old brother came after us, and said, "The people are waiting for you at the church. There is a stranger there, a fine looking man in that appears anxious to have something to say, for he is sitting on his seat and talking to the people." I said to Mr. Tenison, "They have brought their man, I guess we'll have a lively time." When we entered the house our stranger was selecting a song, still talking as he did so, and had not noticed our presence. I took him for a preacher, but his hymn book gave him away, it was a Christian hymn book. I thought, "That won't do for a Methodist." Reaching his seat I halted, he arose, we shook hands, and he said, "You are the preacher, it is time you were at work. My name is Burns." I thought, "A. Burns, what are you doing here, I can't preach before you." I said "You are a preacher." He replied, "That doesn't matter, sir." I said, "You will do the preaching." He said, "No, I won't. I will introduce, but you will do the preaching." I thought, "Well, if you are as intelligent as I have understood you can bear with a boy, and if you have not principle enough to do so I don't care much for you." I entered the pulpit very much embarrassed. In compliance with a request previously handed in we discoursed from Rom. 6:1-6. After dismissal our stranger and I walked out together. I said, "I want to know who you are and where you are from, and I will quiz you till I find out." He said, "I would not think much of you if you did not." He then handed me a letter. I was with John Burns, of St. Louis. I said, "Well, I guess you don't often get to hear such sermons in St. Louis as you have heard today." He replied "No, but I say I do not. That clear, logical exposition of that subject is worth more, in my estimation, than all the learned exegesis and criticisms that I ever listened to."
