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{{ph|class=chapter|Preface}}

"Where could I get a copy of Grandfather Hancock's book?" This question has been asked many times through the years among the descendants of G. B. Hancock. In reality, a book as such, did not exist. What had commonly become known as his "book" was a collection of writings that were published in a religious journal referred to as the "O. R." I have been unable to determine what the abbreviation denotes./begin/

As each installment appeared, it was clipped and lovingly pasted in a scrapbook by his daughter, Sally Pearl. Aunt Pearl, as she was known, died Nov. 13, 1905, and the scrapbook became the precious possession of her only child, Pearl, who so graciously loaned it to this writer for copying, that it might be finally published and shared with all the descendants of this remarkable man.

The articles have been copied exactly as they appeared in the scrapbook. Each installment is treated as a chapter. The work has been carefully proofread and all punctuation, capitalization, spelling and abbreviation is the author's. Due to the great age of the scrapbook a few words were not discernible, and they have been left to the reader's imagination, indicated by broken lines.

This little book has been published with an eye to economy and for this reason the type was not set by the printer, but was photo-graphed exactly as it came from my typewriter. It is hoped this small irregularity will be completely overshadowed by the interesting and sometimes fascinating contents of the script as it flowed from the pen of the author.

It has been a privilege to have had a part in bringing this work to publication that it might be enjoyed by all who so desire. We deeply appreciate the generosity of Pearl Williams Wilson in making it possible by sharing her scrapbook and also the Hancock family picture.

{{right|offset=4em|[[Author:Imogene Hancock May|Imogene Hancock May]]}}

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<*Chapter 1*>{{ph|class=title-header|My Life Is an Open Book}}
{{ph|class=chapter|Chapter One}}

Under the above caption, though borrowed, we purpose for the benefit of others giving something of our own life. We do not design in the common acceptation an autobiography.

Biographies of noted and worthy men, men that have been properly considered benefactors, when properly written, are among the most interesting and profitable of uninspired books. We do not propose that our sketches shall ever appear in book form, and the conclusion that we write with the idea that we deserve to rank among the class mentioned above does us great injustice. Yet, as we ever write with the motto before our mind, "He who writes for the public eye should write for the public good," we certainly conclude that in some respects these sketches will be beneficial, otherwise they would not appear.

My father, Benjamin Hancock, was born in North Carolina, near the Virginia line, in the year 1778. (As the old family record was lost during the late war we cannot give many dates.) He was the son of Benjamin Hancock, a brother, as we learned from an old uncle on my mother's side, of John Hancock, whose name stands at the head of the list of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. My grandfather was a soldier through the entire war of the revolution. At an early date he moved to what was known as the New Purchase of Kentucky. As land was not valuable convenience was the main item in selecting a location, they settled on Gap Creek, Wayne county. He was the second settler in that part, a family by the name of Stockton having preceded him. Here game, timber, water, and Indians were plentiful, but they had to go one hundred miles to get their grinding. At the age of forty-two years my father was married to Elizabeth Vickrey. To them ten children were born, six sons and four daughters. Three of the daughters died in early childhood. June 7th, 1839, the writer of these lines was born.

In some respects our father was an eccentric man. In naming his sons this appeared. The first son was christened, Jessee Emsly John Vickrey Hancock, the second, William Luther Martin Daniel, the third, Benjamin Francis Henry Tuggle, the fourth James Calvin Delay, the fifth George Berry Dandridge Cruz, and the writer, Leland Golmon Buford Kimbrel. Our oldest brother died when we were but a child. Except the third the others, for the sake of convenience, just kept two of their initials.

At an early date my father erected a water mill on his farm, which did the grinding or most of it for the neighborhood. He was a farmer, a miller, a justice of the peace, and a Baptist preacher. He never attained to notoriety as a preacher, but was a man of considerable influence and after ceased to be a J.P. when a difference would arise in the neighborhood all appeared to be willing to leave it to Uncle Ben, as he was familiarly known. He had no concern so far as the goods of this world were concerned beyond a reasonable supply of food and raiment.<*-Chapter 1-*>

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<*Chapter 1*>He was a friend to the poor, the widow and orphan. He raised four orphans and looked to the extent of his ability after objects of charity. I heard in my childhood how many such objects have died in his house, but do not now remember. We will know after awhile when the books are opened.

My father inherited the old homestead. The house was a hewed log house, covered with chestnut shingles, covered when nails were not to be had. The shingles were pinned to the laths. When not quite four years old my mother died, leaving a girl baby, something over a year old, the only girl in the family. Our father had to tend his mill, superintend the farm, and attend his meetings; neighbor women were kind, but we were a family of neglected ones. My oldest brother had gone into the tanning business, and was looking after a wife. It was a good farmer in those days that could afford biscuit for breakfast Sunday mornings. Uncle John Hicks came nearer doing so than most men in that part. Uncle John had a grown daughter, and brother often went to the Hicks' residence. And we were always rejoiced when we could think brother had gone to see Miss Hicks; for she would fill his coat pockets with biscuits for us children. And now if I should at any place where I stop to hold a meeting find a family that could make biscuit that would taste half as well as those did I certainly would make that my home while in those parts. Brother married a Miss Huffaker, but in a little over a year they were both laid in the Arter Creek cemetery.

Before I reached my thirteenth birthday father was called to go. he called me his boy baby. He was old and feeble, and was only sick about nine days. In the evening before he died at night he was helped from his lips to the stream of cold water and seated, and wet his mouth. He then fixed his eyes upon me, and with an effort that called for all his strength he prayed for the blessing of God to rest upon his boy. These were his last words. We were then a broken family. The third brother took charge of the little girl, the boys each had to care for himself. If children who have a home and kind parents that they fail to appreciate could only spend a few months as we spent the next few years, it would perhaps be a good schooling.

After the death of my father I went first to live with an aunt on my mother's side. This was a mistake, not that I could have gone into a nicer family than Doctor Fleming's. Kinder old folks, or nicer children I could not have been with. Aunt was one of the nicest hands in that country to make cloth. Father kept sheep and raised flax, and had cloth made twice a year. He would have jeans enough made in the fall to make the boys each two pair of pants and a hunting shirt. In the spring he would have tow and flax cloth made. Each of the boys would get two pair of tow pants. The larger boys that were wanting to get out into society would get a flax pair for Sunday use. Some times there would be sufficient flax scraps to make the "boy baby" a pair of pants. When such was the case there would be one cheerful heart in that family. When the cloth would be ready the women of the neighborhood would come, en mass, cut and make the garments. Upon one occasion, a woman that did not understand her business as she might have done was given the task of cutting and making my flax pants. She missed it so far in cutting that when they were done I could not get into them. I was<*-Chapter 1-*>

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<*Chapter 1*>always of a forgiving disposition, but I am not conscious at the present time that I ever did forgive that woman. Father had to economise, so the jeans cloth would be bark colored. Aunt Fleming would make blue mixed jeans. She not only made blue mixed of a fine quality, but for her boys a Sunday suit she would mix in Turkey red enough to give an extra appearance. It was winter time when I went to live with that family. Aunt gave me a nice fitting suit of her extra jeans. Well, Joseph may have thought as much of his coat of divers colors, but I am sure he did not think any more of his coat than I did of my suit. And now, if I could have a suit of as nice jeans as that was you preachers could have your Prince Albert, and welcome.

My father was a very indulgent parent. Except when I had to stay with little sister I was my father's constant companion. After Creek Baptist meeting house was built on Father's land, Gap Creek was between our residence and the meeting house. Father was old and tottery. In crossing the creek and in climbing the hill upon which the meeting house stood he would brace himself on his right side with his cane and on the other by resting his left hand on my shoulder. Whenever I was with him I was a happy boy, whether on the road, the farm or about the little water mill. After his death I missed his kind counsel, his words of encouragement, and above all his caressing love. I longed to be the object of some one's affection and tender care. Uncle and Aunt Fleming were kind, but they had a large family of children, and boys near my size, that made me feel that I was the one too many, there was no room. Spring opened, I longed for home. My oldest living brother had married and lived at the old home. I went back with the idea of living there, but it was no longer home. I went to live with a cousin by marriage, I was taken sick and they sent me back to my brother's to be cared for.

When I had sufficiently recovered I went into an adjoining county to live with a second cousin by marriage. They were inclined to be tyrannical. While there I determined to become a Christian, but was prevented. Although but fourteen years of age I was decidedly of a religious turn of mind. I worked there about three months for which they gave me two shirts made of common domestic. A few miles from there, in what was known as Caney Gap, lived an aged widow by the name of Beck. She and a daughter, about 35 years old lived alone, except what time F. E. Beck, a grandson, and a Baptist preacher, stayed with them. They wanted a boy to stay with them. Hearing of me, and being well acquainted with Father, as he was one of their kind of preachers, they concluded I was the boy they wanted. While we were at work one evening a finely dressed, fine looking man, with a very pleasant expression, and riding one of the finest horses I had ever seen rode to where we were and asked if that was Mr. _____. He introduced himself and inquired if I was the Hancook boy that was living there. He then made his errand known. He could see that he was not thanked for that visit. He took in the situation and said, "My grandmother and aunt need some boy to stay with them, and if we can get such a boy we are able and willing to do a good part by him." Turning to me he said, "Please let me know your decision soon." My decision was then made, but I dare not let it be known.<*-Chapter 1-*>

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<*Chapter 1*>In a day or two I said to Mr. _____, "I had better go to Mr. Beck's and let him know my decision, as I promised." This was not met with approval but as he was in some respects --------- he could not object to me filling my promise. He asked if I wished to ride. I told him I would walk to Beck's that evening and back next morning. I was back next morning but not afoot.

I dreaded that trip, but thought I could behave myself nice enough to escape a castigation. I went into the house and told the lady I wanted my clothes. She handed them to me. Mr. _____ was present, but did not speak to me. I saw that he wanted a chance to give us a piece of his mind. That chance he did not get. A few days at the widow Beck's convinced me that my fondest hopes were to be realized. I had found the place I had been looking for ever since my father's death. I was where I could be somebody's boy. Grandma and Aunt Sallie were kind as heart could wish, and F. E. was a gentleman. He was, of course preaching under the commission as recorded in the tenth chapter of Matthew. A man that lived twenty-five miles from there was owing Mr. Beck some money. He happened to be in a neighborhood where Mr. Beck was holding a meeting. He called and offered to pay it, but Mr. Beck refused, saying that when preaching the Savior forbade him taking purse or script. The man had to wait till he could see Mr. Beck when he was not engaged in a meeting to pay that money.
<*-Chapter 1-*><*Chapter 2*>{{ph|class=chapter|Chapter Two}}

From the time I left Uncle Fleming's till the time I went to Beck's to live I knew but little of kind treatment. I was abused, insomuch that I was inspired with a degree of diffidence I will never overcome. Mr. Beck would speak kindly and endeavored to inspire me with lofty motives, and holy ambition. For the first year they were to clothe me, send me to school three months, and give me twenty dollars.

Mr. Beck bought a fine young mare and told me she was mine to care for and ride so long as I should live with them. Aunt Sallie bought cloth and made me a nice suit of clothes. I could now go to meeting and hold my head up. By mid-summer I was a member of the Baptist church and had no thought but that Becks would be my home through my youth. I was, in this, however, doomed to disappointment. William Beck, a brother to the preacher, but more demon than man, bought an interest in the farm and moved into the house. Not only did the boy have to get out, but also grandma and aunt had to hunt a home elsewhere. He compromised with me by giving me $17.

I had never been to school, but now determined to spend my money in school. I went to Wayne county and attended a subscription school three months. There I learned something of spelling, reading and writing. I then went to Russell county to live with a Mr. Leverage. I stayed there but a few weeks, and then went to Creelsboro, where I stayed nearly a year, working in a saddle shop and clerking in a dry goods store. Creelsboro<*-Chapter 2-*>

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<*Chapter 2*>was a hard place and my home was with a hard family. The fall that I was there the typhoid fever raged, and I was one of the victims. When I had to take the bed I was placed in a small room, without ventilation or screens, but an abundance of flies. I had no nurse, but had to care for myself. There were none, except the doctor, that seemed to care whether I lived or died— all predicted that I would die. The doctor had sixty-two cases on his hands, and could only get around about once in every forty-eight hours. I had to wait on myself. All the assistance I would get, a cup of water and my medicine would be placed on a table where I could reach it.

Sometimes I could recollect to take medicine as directed, sometimes I could not. Upon one occasion the doctor having left I undertook to take the first dose as directed. I reached for the cup of water, I was too feeble to raise up, my hand gave way and the water was tilled into the vessel where my medicine was, and all was spoiled. I did without till the doctor's return. I was then in a critical condition and the doctor now realized how sadly I was neglected. He went into an adjoining room where the woman of the house was and gave her a sound cursing. I would doze, the flies would get into my mouth, I would wake up and take them out. Say what you please, you fatalist, but I shall ever hold that in answer to my father's dying prayer I was providentially kept through such periods in my childhood.

I remained in Creelsboro until the following spring; I then went across the river to Clinton county and worked as a hand for Frank Irwin at $8 per month. When crops were made I had money enough to meet the expenses of my sickness in Creelsboro.

I then determined to learn the saddle and harness trade. With this in view I went to Monticello and made an agreement with James Warden, the saddle and harness man of that town. I was to work the first year for my victuals and clothes. I had not been there long till thoughts of the future passed through my mind. I soliloquized as follows: "I am now seventeen years old; the responsibilities of manhood will soon be upon me. For such I am not prepared; this will never do. I must go to school." I had no money, and but few clothes. A ten months school had just opened in Stockton Valley. I sent a note to the principal and gave him my condition, and told him I wanted to go to school. He wrote to me immediately, urging me to enter his school and agreeing to be surety for my board and tuition. I determined to go. Mr. and Mrs. Warden tried to dissuade me from that conclusion. I was, however, determined and was soon in school.

I missed three weeks of the first five months of school, which ended the last of December. By request of the patrons a vacation of six weeks was given, that the severest of winter might pass before the last session opened. I went to Creelsboro and proposed to the saddler there that I would make saddles on the halves if he would furnish the material. To this he agreed. I had to miss one week of school to<*-Chapter 2-*>

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<*Chapter 2*>complete the saddles that I had commenced. I was in school promptly the second week; and had saddles enough to pay board and tuition for the entire school.

When the last term ended I had gotten through with spelling, reading, arithmetic, English grammar, geography, composition, philosophy and astronomy. I then engaged to teach a four months' school twelve miles from Albany, on the breaks of the Cumberland. They had never seen a blackboard in that part. In agreeing to teach their school I had stipulated with the directors that a blackboard should be furnished, and the school should be conducted according to the most improved methods. Of this they soon repented. They objected to the blackboard, to the silent method in school, to classing the students, and to drilling in the art of spelling and reading. They said their children knew nothing about these things. They had been used to the students saying their lessons one at a time, and had been used to the children all spelling and reading out, so that they could be heard at least a quarter of a mile. One director could see the improvement and stood by me. The other two tried to stop the school. We taught the school. We then entered school at Albany. We had not, however, been there but one month when we determined to go to California with some young men that were going from that place.

Having determined to go to California I sold my interest in the old homestead, by giving security for a deed, when I should become of age, and arranged to start. We were to go to New York and ship from there to San Francisco. That trip could be made one month quicker than the trip that way we had to start by a certain date. We were to start on Monday, but on Sunday the two young men that I was to go with came to town and informed me that their parents were not willing for them to start that month, and consequently the time for starting would be postponed one month. I determined to spend that month visiting, so next morning I started for Tennessee. I had not been gone long till those young men came after me. Their parents had consented for them to start. They could not wait and make the necessary connection, so I was left. I had said, however, that I was going to California, and when I said a thing, even in my youthful days, I generally meant it.

I had longed to see some of the great West, hence I determined to go to Independence, Mo., and go across into California with a freight or emigrant train. A young man, my senior by some years, wanted to go with me. He had no money, but had been to Missouri. I doubted the propriety of accepting him as a traveling companion. Surrendering, however, to the judgment of an older brother, I consented to take him with me, bear his expenses and wait till he could refund the money. On January 18, 1858, we left Albany. We went to Nashville, Tenn., designing to go from there to Cairo, Ill., by water. There we had to wait three or four days for a boat.

We went to Grishan and Huffaker's wholesale grocery store. Mr. Huffaker was a brother to our oldest brother's wife. He went with us to a boarding house, told the proprietor to take good care of us till we could get passage down the river. I was now eighteen years old.
{{nop}}<*-Chapter 2-*>

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<*Chapter 2*>I was determined to live a virtuous life. We took, while in Nashville, extensive walks, that we might see the different parts of the city. Having taken an extensive walk one evening after supper we were returning, my companion halted in front of what appeared to me a doubtful house, and said to me, "Let's go in here and see some fun." There was considerable merriment within. I assured him that I would not. He then said, "You go to our room and I will come after awhile." I then turned to him and firmly said "Jim, you can do as you please. You are older than I am, but I want it distinctly understood that if you go into that house you have traveled your last mile at my expense." He knew that I meant just what I said, and so went with me to our room.

The time came for our boat to start; Mr. Huffaker came, settled our board bill, accompanied us to the boat, and bade us farewell. The trip to Cairo was a lonesome one. From Cairo we traveled to St. Louis by railroad. From St. Louis we went to Jefferson City. There we expected to get boat passage to Independence. A boat was expected to start on that trip soon, but not being able to get any satisfaction as to when, we determined to go to Boonville by stage. Before reaching Cairo we had formed the acquaintance of a gentleman bound for the vicinity of Independence. As we judged upon first acquaintance he proved to be a pleasant and safe companion.

It was after sunset when the stage left Jefferson City. The nights were dark, and it was cold winter weather. I did not like appearances. So I told my companions that I would not get inside of that stage, but would sit with the driver. The stage was heavily loaded with mail and I watched him closely. Soon he drove onto a place where the vehicle tilted. At the proper time I made a spring and landed safely on my feet. I heard a faint cry from within for help. The baggage was smothering my Kentucky companion. By the time the driver had adjusted his team I, by an extra effort, had extricated my two companions. They were somewhat frightened, but nobody was hurt. We took our valises and told the driver he could go on. We had a dark, muddy walk for some miles before we got to where we could find a place to rest.

When we reached Boonville we telegraphed to Jefferson City to know if any boat was between there and Boonville destined for St. Joseph. The answer came, No. We then started for Glassgow, reaching that place in the evening we stopped for the night. Early next morning the boat we had been expecting landed at Glassgow. We went aboard and asked the price of a ticket to our destined point. "Twenty dollars," was the answer. I told the --------- that was the price from Jefferson City. He said it was the same from there. I told my companions that I could walk it for less than that. We had between two and three months to spend somewhere before time for starting across the planes, and my Kentucky friend having spent some time, on a previous trip, in Putnam Co., Mo., he proposed that we go there to spend the time till spring opened. To this we consented. We went to Unionville, via Bloomington and Kirksville. In Putnam county we found several with whom we had been acquainted in Kentucky. We had been there but a few days when Jim informed me that he had determined not to go<*-Chapter 2-*>

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<*Chapter 2*>any further toward California that year. His excuse was that the Mormon war being on hand the trip would be a hazardous one. We regretted to be again baffled, but he having spent about fifty dollars of our money we determined to postpone our trip one year and get our money back.

Jim engaged to teach a school in the country. We applied for the school in Unionville. Being a mere boy and a stranger the directors paid but little attention to us. We had about concluded that our application was in vain. Having called one day to see a Mr. Bradshaw, one of the directors, and getting but little encouragement we concluded to go into the country and try to get a school. We stepped into the store of Davis & Simpson, leading dry goods merchants. Some one called our name, an elderly gentleman arose and called for the man of that name. Learning that I was a son of Uncle Ben, of Wayne County, Kentucky, he spoke of my parents to those present, and gave the family such a recommendation that Mr. Davis went immediately to see the directors. Mr. Bradshaw came immediately and told me that I could have the school.
<*-Chapter 2-*><*Chapter 3*>{{ph|class=chapter|Chapter Three}}

Our school in Unionville opened with one hundred and twenty-five pupils. It was taught in the court house, which was a log building, one and one-half stories high. It had two rooms, a lower and upper room. The lower was the court room, the upper room was the clerk's office. William Shelton, a young Kentuckian and three years my senior, had charge of the upper room. During the school term, except when court would be in session, we had full control of the lower room. As Mr. Shelton was from the same part of Kentucky that I was, and our parents had been associates, we were soon intimates and confidants. He was the only one that I counseled during that school term. He willingly assisted me all that he could. One thing he seemed to conclude that I did not need assistance in, and that was the use of the rod.

I soon found that I had a herculean task on my hands. I was told that a public school had never been taught in the town, that one or two had been commenced but the boys proved to be master of the situation. One thing I saw had to be settled first of all; namely, would I or those boys prove to be master? There were two or three ring leaders. One of these was in his seventeenth year. I was aware that they were secretly armed. I kept my eyes on them, and determined to give them no advantage. I talked to them till it was evident that words were of no avail. After school one evening I visited a brush patch, secured a good switch and placed it convenient to my place in the court room. At an early hour the next morning the sixteen year old began, as usual, a disturbance. I spake to him, he replied, "Sir, I'll let you know I will do just as I please." I replied, "We will see." Taking my switch I walked to him, he rose and placed his right hand in his bosom. I halted at a proper distance and taking hold of my switch with both hands I let him have it with all the power I could summon. Soon his hand dropped from his bosom<*-Chapter 3-*>

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<*Chapter 3*>and he yelled pitifully. He was quiet till noon, when he gathered his books and left school. The ring leader was now gone, but the spirit of insubordination remained, and for some days that court room was a lively place; for if I could get along without whipping less than twenty-five a day it was a remarkably quiet day. Many concluded that that schoolroom was not a healthy place and left us; so, with the remainder we went through the session very pleasantly. One thing was now demonstrated; namely, a public school could be taught in that town. That, of course, made it an easier task for subsequent teachers.

As soon as our school term ended, we went to Macon county, and stopped with an uncle on our mother's side, Abner --------. After about two months we ---------------horse and went back to Unionville for some things we had left there. ---------------then building a brick court -----------------------spirit of enterprise seemed to be taking possession of the place. After that trip I saw Unionville no more till February, 189--. Being in those parts at that time we visited the town and made our home with Judge Shelton. The Judge laughed heartily when I asked him if he remembered that school. He told me that when he would hear me commence on the children he would go stealthily to the stairway, lie down on the floor and watch me till I would get through. I did not find but one of my students. One of the merchants of the place told me that he was one of my students. I was then on my way to West Grove, Iowa, to meet Elder Thompson, of Indiana, in debate. I regretted that probate court was then on hand in Unionville, otherwise the Judge would have gone with me and heard the debate.

Recently we held a meeting near the road that I traveled from Macon to Unionville. While there we lived a part of our boyhood days over, and many incidents came to mind. I suppose I was born a dyspeptic, and often suffered from indigestion, which made it necessary at times to keep medicine with me. Not far from where our recent meeting was held we remembered stopping over night at a farm house, when on our way from Unionville to Macon, after the expiration of our school term.

It was not night but it was raining very hard. The old gentleman said that he would not deny me shelter, but could not promise me anything to eat, for his wife was sick. I went in, and saw that the old lady was suffering. I asked the man if he was not going to do something for her. He said she had not been sick long, but if she did not get better soon he would have to do something. I told him I had some medicine with me I thought would do her good, that it had been a great benefit to me, and I knew it would do her no harm. The decision was that I should treat the case. I gave a dose and soon it vomited her severely. That was something I did not expect, and I began to wish that I had not stopped, for I thought may be I had given a medicine that my patient had no business taking. The old gentleman saw that I was alarmed, but said I need not be for that was just what she needed. That gave me relief, and soon my patient was easy and slept well all night. Next morning she got up and got us a good breakfast, and said she had not had any medicine to do her so much good for a long time. I had her to take another dose before breakfast. That paid for<*-Chapter 3-*>

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<*Chapter 3*>my night's lodging, and I was requested, if ever convenient, to stop with them again.

Another incident, but not so pleasant, came vividly to mind. That was then a sparsely settled country, and between Nineveh and Unionville there was a space where one traveled many miles without seeing a house. The time I made the trip to Unionville on horseback, on starting back to Macon I knew it would take till noon to reach the last house to pass before entering that uninhabited part, so I had decided to stop at that house, have my horse fed and get my dinner. A short turn in the road brought me within a few yards of the house, just then I heard a masculine voice, in a very angry tone cry, "You Sal." Just then a nice looking woman, with long, black, wavy hair came running out of the house, and a large, rough looking man after her. She got about half way across the yard when he caught her by the hair, jerked her down, and began to beat her. I thought, "I will not stand that." I reigned my horse in and was just in the act of dismounting, when, I suppose he discovered my presence. He straightened up and looked at me in a daring manner. Neither of us spoke but I sized him up. He was about twice my bulk. If I had been armed with David's sling and one of his pebbles I might have tried him a round. As it was, however, I thought, a boy has no business with you. I reigned my horse to the middle of the road, and without speaking rode on. I did without dinner. I was sorry for my horse, and I was sorry for that woman, and for that man. I thought, "Can it be that such have an offspring, or ever will have? What good could be expected of the offspring of such! Is it not from such that the inmates for our county and state prisons come?" I wished afterwards that I had pleasantly spoken to them, got the man to feed my horse, and the woman to prepare me some dinner, and then paid each well for what they did, and tried, without any reference to their domestic troubles, to give them a lesson on the subject of human kindness, and the law of love.

While in Unionville I determined to abandon the idea of going to California, and determined to study medicine, with the idea of being an M. D. With that in view I gave all my spare moments to that study. I often sought solitude, and even before the beginning of my complete orphanage, I was wont to visit the closet or secret grove, and implore the divine protection and guidance. After a deliberate weighing of the matter I concluded that the position of a physician would not suit me.

Having now all my effects in Macon county, and being undecided, as to a calling for life, and not wishing to be idle I hired to work in the saddle and harness shop in Bloomington, Missouri. I had not, however, been there but a few weeks when I determined to go to Texas. Some of my connection were preparing to go there, and some of them that were in Texas were writing and urging me to come there. All was in readiness to start, when, in spite of my inclinations, the conclusion was reached that the change would not suit me. I then applied for a district school near College Mound, Macon County, Mo. The school was given me without hesitation.
{{nop}}<*-Chapter 3-*>

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<*Chapter 3*>William Burris, a well-to-do farmer, lived near the school house, and being well prepared to pleasantly keep me, I engaged board there. Mrs. Burris was one of those nice, pleasant, motherly women, such as it is pleasant to be with. My mother's brother, Captain Adam Vickery, of Tennessee, married her mother's sister so we felt somewhat akin, and my home there was very pleasant. Near the close of our term of school Mr. Burris proposed to put up a general furnishing store, furnish me half the means at six per cent per annum, and board me gratis if I would superintend the business, and we would be equal partners, for the space of five years.

I was now settled, spring opened, a union Sunday-school was started at Antioch meeting house. I was appointed superintendent. I had been for some time a pretty close student of the Bible, and determined that, to the best of my ability, the teaching of the one Book should be given that school. My faith had wavered as to the correctness of Baptist teaching, and soon I was ready to abandon that and take my stand in the pure teaching of Christ. There was a large congregation of disciples meeting at Antioch, but not keeping house strictly after the New Testament order. With these I had determined to take my stand. One Lord's day when Sunday-school had closed, E. H. Lawson, who lived near there, was present with an appointment to preach at eleven o'clock. We spake to him and made known our wish. After the close of his sermon I was received into the fellowship of that congregation.

I was now near twenty years old. I felt that I was free, and to be forever free from all human ecclesiasticisms. I wanted others to know what true soul-liberty was, to see the beauty and simplicity of God's arrangement in Christ. I wanted to tell people of {{uc|him}} who was the way, the truth, and the life. I made an appointment at Antioch, thinking that, as I was a mere boy, none would come to hear me but the young folks. When, however, the hour arrived the house was full. Old men and women had come for miles to hear the boy's first effort.

I thought, may be, by the time I had read a lesson and offered prayer my embarrassment would, to some extent, be gone. In this I was disappointed, for when I faced that audience and saw all eyes fixed upon me, with evident anxiety to hear what I had to say, I knew I was in the pulpit, and I knew the purpose for which I had entered it, but what I had prepared for that occasion was gone, I knew not where. I aimed to tell them that the 15th, 16th and 17th verses of a certain chapter in [[Matthew (Bible)|Matthew]] would be my text, but told them that the 15th, 16th, and 17th chapters of Matthew was my text. I saw many of them smile, and supposed that they were laughing at my awkward appearance. I wished I had not made the appointment. I, however, talked about thirty minutes, asked the audience to bow with me in prayer and then dismissed them with the conclusion that I had better wait awhile before making another appointment. It was not, however, very long till I felt it to be my duty to make another appointment. Some were making an effort to implant soul sleeping in the congregation there, and I have, from my first acquaintance<*-Chapter 3-*>

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<*Chapter 3*>with that doctrine, ever considered that it undermines the very fundamentals of Christianity. Our second appointment was made for the purpose of speaking against that doctrine. We now began to feel that, perhaps, we had begun in the work for which we were designed.

For some months we did no talking publicly except what we did in the prayer-meeting and Sunday-school. I was not twenty years old. That fall we had the privilege of meeting with, and hearing A. Campbell preach. Mr. C. talked very flatteringly of us, and insisted on our taking a course at Bethany. This we promised, and determined to do. In this, however, we were disappointed, for we were unable to make the necessary arrangements. We then determined to settle for life.

Farming was by far our choice as a calling for life. As we expected to be a farmer we determined to select a truly domestic girl as a companion, one that would be a true help meet. I had been in Mr. Burris' family one year. His daughter, Mary, was one of my students during our term of school, during which we became intimate friends. As our acquaintance extended our affections grew, so on Lord's day evening, Nov. 13, 1859, by A. Vickrey, we were united in the holy bands of wedlock. If ever a boy felt the solemnity and importance of that change we did. When, a day or two before we started to our uncle's to engage his service for that occasion we wept and prayed till well in the road to his house. He met us at the yard gate and we went to the barn to put up our horse, he told me that he knew my business. I asked him how he knew it? He said he could read it in my expression. Another had pronounced one, in secret, and on my knees I poured out my soul in prayer to God. And if ever I prayed in earnest it was then.

Early the next spring, at my request, my sister came from Kentucky to make my house her home. We remained in the store till the latter part of that summer. Times were now becoming very close, and as I viewed it, we were making very little money merchandising. I proposed to Mr. Burris that if he would sell me a small farm that he owned in that neighborhood, take the goods and accounts, settle all business of the firm, pay me twelve dollars and a half per month for the time I had been in the store, and give me time to pay for the land I proposed to buy I would be a farmer. My proposition was accepted, and soon I was a granger.

Although I chilled for twelve months I cleared land and raised a good crop of tobacco, but an early frost ruined it. August 23 of that year our first baby was born. The next year the war began, and the tobacco crop was a failure. In 1862 times were very squally, and our crop was light. The people were now full of the war spirit, a spirit decidedly antagonistic to the spirit of Christianity. We canceled our trade with Mr. Burris for the land we bought and early in 1863 moved to Chariton Co., Mo. We now had two children, a girl and a boy, and we determined to own a home. We cultivated five acres of tobacco that year. When our neighbors learned that we were going to plant that amount they tried to dissuade us from it. Mrs. H. made a faithful hand, and we made a success.
{{nop}}<*-Chapter 3-*>

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<*Chapter 3*>Early that spring the Antioch church licensed us to do the work of an evangelist, and we did considerable preaching in the vicinity of home. We then bought a forty acre tract of land in Macon Co., and the next two years we cultivated our five acres of tobacco, and during that time spread out somewhat as a preacher. We now determined to give our entire time to the work of an evangelist, and that we might be the better prepared, we determined to go to school. The Kirksville Normal had been established, and Professor Baldwin offered us inducements to move to that place. Our efforts to carry out our purpose were all thwarted, for the Lord had a schooling in reservation for us that we knew not of.
<*-Chapter 3-*><*Chapter 4*>{{ph|class=chapter|Chapter Four}}

I had often expressed the wish that I could be situated so that I could support myself, and preach in destitute parts, for in boyhood I abhorred a hireling clergy, wanted to be a missionary, and had, I suppose, a feeling akin to that of Paul, when he spake of building on another's foundation. I continually, and earnestly, took all things to the Lord in prayer. My prayers, however, up to that time seemed to be answered by adversity.

The spring of 1869 was now opening. I was seated one night to look over my mail, and, as was usually the case, the {{uc|[[A. C. Review]]}} was the first to examine. Under the head of "Correspondence" was a letter from the south-west, giving an account of the destitution there, spiritually, and praying that some one might come there and break to the perishing ones the bread of life. I said, "Mollie, here is a call for us. If we can sell our land here we can get us a good stock ranch there, and I can superintend it and preach to the benighted. We are needed there, here we are not needed."

After due consultation we decided to make the change. Providence seemed to favor the change, for in a few days all was in readiness to start. My sister had married and settled in that neighborhood, and was very much grieved over the idea of our being again separated. I told her that it was from a religious sense of duty that I purposed making the change. And while the change would be for the upbuilding of the cause of Christ it would evidently be beneficial to my wife; for, as she knew, my wife had overworked herself, her health had become poor, and a change would be beneficial. She had not only made a good hand in the tobacco crop, but also made the cloth for our winter ware. We now had four children- three girls and one boy.

Our trip to the south-west was without let or hindrance. Soon we were settled on the head waters of Yokum Creek, Carroll Co., Ark., and as nicely situated for raising cattle and hogs as heart could wish. Having settled the next thing was to look after the prospects for a church home. We learned that there were three or four families a few<*-Chapter 4-*>

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<*Chapter 4*>miles north and east of where we settled that were meeting the first day of the week to worship. We took a day to visit them. Learning that a Bro. Thompson was their speaker we went first to his home, but as he was busy in his young crop we did not tarry long, but having learned that Bro. John Parker was their recognized bishop we got directions to his house and reached there near noon. We asked if we could get our horse fed and get dinner. We were answered in the affirmative. Our horse being cared for we were soon seated in the house. We had talked freely of things in general, but saw that the old brother eyed us all the while with suspicion. Just before dinner was announced we told him who we were. He said he suspected something of that kind from first sight of us. He then called for the old sister, and as she entered the room he said, "Wife, the Lord has answered our prayers, this is Bro. Hancock, a preacher from Missouri, that has come to live among us."

The country had not recovered from the devastation wrought by the war. All were poor. Religiously the country was benighted, the preachers, as a rule, were of the more ignorant class. In a few days business called us to the town of Berryville, and as I wanted to get my horse shod I rode to a blacksmith shop. I concluded that while waiting for my work I would see if I could find any disciples of Christ there.

I asked the smith, who was an elderly man, if there were any members of the Church of Christ in Berryville? He gave no answer, only a sarcastic laugh; I repeated my question. He replied, "I claim to be a member of the church described in a Baptist." I replied, "I don't read anything about that kind of a church in the New Testament. I want to find members of the church I read about in that book. People that claim to be Christians, without any handle to their name." He said, "I suppose there are two in this town that are the kind you are enquiring for, one old man, and one old woman." He then went to the door of his shop and showed me where they lived.

I went to the old man's residence, but he was not at home. I then went to where the old lady lived. She was sitting on the porch fronting the street, and as I walked along the yard fence to the gate I thought she looked at me rather earnestly, and with marked surprise, and when I halted at the yard gate she said, "Come in." As I stepped on to the porch I said, "You know nothing about me, but I hope I do about you." She said, "Yes I do, Bettie Hancock was your mother. She and I were raised together, and your father held me in his lap many times when I was a little girl, for your father was getting up in years when he married. I recognized your mother's features as soon as I got my eyes on you as you approached the gate." I then told her of the conversation with the blacksmith, and that I had come to that country to teach the people the way of salvation. On receiving this information she fairly shouted, and when her excitement had subsided she told me of the destitute and benighted condition of that country, and asked me to set a time when I could preach in Berryville.

Our presence in that country had now created some excitement in<*-Chapter 4-*>

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<*Chapter 4*>religious circles. The two by four lights were bestirring themselves to corral their flocks and guard them against the wolf. Isaac Standlee lived in the northern part of Carrol county, and was justly considered the big preacher of that country. He began to conclude that it behooved him to look after his laurels. He began to challenge for debate, and the smaller lights in the Baptist ranks --------------- threaten us with "Uncle Ike."

Oat harvest being on hand we went to Bro. Parker's on Monday to assist him in his oat harvest. At noon Sister Parker told me of an elderly woman in that neighborhood that had been a mourner for several years, but had failed to get religion, and said she was at the mourner's bench the day before, that her people were all Baptists and that she was so prejudiced she would not listen to any of the disciples talk. I remarked, "I sympathize with such, and I will go there this evening and spend the night, if they will let me."

When I reached the house the woman kindly invited me in, informing me that the man of the house had gone on an errand but would return soon. I told her that I was tired and warm, so would take a chair and sit in the yard till her man returned. As soon as I was seated she brought a chair for herself and said, "I understand that you folks deny a change of heart. There is something strange in this to me, for I see so many get religion without much trouble, but I have been trying for several years to get it and have failed." I said, "You have been imposed upon, madam, and I sympathize with you, but you get your work done and I will talk a while on these matters." All being in readiness to listen I read the New Testament, and talked of the obedience of faith for about three hours. When I closed the old lady said, "I did not know that was in the Bible." She left the room with more amazement than delight. When I went to leave next morning I told them that I would preach the next Lord's day a week at Bro. Parkers, and had them promise to hear me.

The next Lord's day I went to Berryville to fill my first appointment there. As Sister Owens, my mother's associate, had predicted, everybody was on hand, with anxiety, to hear the new preacher and strange doctrine. Saturday night I took for my subject "The Kingdom of Christ." The effort was a failure, but fortunately, or rather, perhaps, unfortunately, the people did not know enough about the Bible to detect it. Lord's day at eleven o'clock the whole country gathered to hear me. I took as a foundation the question, "What is Man?" The attention was profound. My talk was not of an exciting nature, but I was at myself and deeply in earnest. When I closed and a song was commenced an elderly woman began to shout, and I concluded that she could equal any one at that business I ever heard. I went to Sister Owens' for dinner, and that woman was there. Sister Owens introduced us and said, "Sister Wood lives in the country. She had heard the gospel all her life, but has lived here ten years without the privilege of hearing a sermon, and when she heard the old time gospel again she shouted because she could not help it."

The next Lord's day we filled our appointment at Bro. Parker's.
{{nop}}<*-Chapter 4-*>

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<*Chapter 4*>Our Baptist mourner and her husband were there, and listened with marked attention to what we had to say. By their request we spent that night with them, and gave them a lengthy talk on the elementary principles of Christianity. When we closed our talk the old woman was too much overcome to speak, and left the room, evidently, to weep in solitude. We, of course could not tell whether her tears were tears of joy, or otherwise. We saw her no more till called to breakfast next morning.

She was as pleasant and cheerful appearing as I ever saw any woman. While we were eating a neighbor called. The old man invited him to eat, remarking that they had some nice new honey. The woman said, very pleasantly, "I told the old man that after having such a good sermon as we had last night the preacher must have some nice honey for breakfast." Our next appointment in that vicinity was two weeks off, and we promised that wife and I would get to their house Saturday evening before. The Baptists became alarmed and sent for "Uncle Ike." He came and labored very hard to make her believe that she had religion, and was prepared to join the Baptist Church. They were, however, too late, for she had obtained too much light. At our next appointment she obeyed the gospel. This so stirred the Baptists that a challenge was submitted for debate. The challenge was accepted, but the debate was slow in maturing, for they evidently aimed to run a bluff. Additions to the one Body were now constant, and the war began in earnest. People talked religion everywhere, and many, wherever we went, expressed themselves delighted with the simplicity of the gospel of Christ.

Our second appointment had been filled at Berryville, and our first two discourses were delivered. It was now evident that Berryville was destined to become the seat of war. The place was noted for its educational enterprise. Clarke's Academy was located there and was well patronized. When we preached there, hence, we had the privilege of preaching to the young from many parts. The sects concluded to mass their forces there in a big union meeting. They had eight preachers engaged, Uncle Ike among the number. The meeting had been in progress a few days and we concluded to go and see how they were getting along. We reached town late and none of the preachers learned that we were in town. Just as they were ready to commence services we went to meeting and found a seat near the pulpit. An elderly man was in the pulpit and busily engaged with the Bible, turning down its leaves in various places, evidently arranging his discourse for that occasion. As soon as I was seated I saw a general whispering commence among the preachers, and soon one of them stepped to the old brother that was in the pulpit and whispered something. Immediately the old brother closed the Bible, laid it on the stand, left the pulpit and took a lower seat. There was a general whispering among them for some minutes, then Uncle Ike went into the pulpit, but his effort was a failure. Uncle Ike told Mr. Owen that when the preachers learned I was present they all backed out and he had to preach or there would have been no preaching that night.

Our field of labor was continually widening. We were in a missionary field indeed, the war was an incessant one, lies flew like rockets in the sky. I could, I now thought, understand the providential interference with<*-Chapter 4-*>

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<*Chapter 4*>my plans in the past. I look back over that period, I see a mere boy pano-plied with the armour of heaven, standing against the Midianites and the Philistian hosts combined, and with the sword of the Spirit putting these allied powers to flight. I asked no quarters, I gave none.

By the close of 1870 we had traveled over Carroll and Boone Counties. A little congregation had been planted in Berryville. The sects had united their efforts to prevent this. Dr. Ellis, dear man, had proposed that he could stop it, that if they would furnish him two or three men that would stand by him he would put a stop to my work there. When, however, it came to the test they concluded that the reckoning before the civil courts might be more than they cared about having on hand. So, you see, the civil law kept me from bearing in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus, and, perhaps, from being numbered with the martyrs of Jesus. I kept near the Savior, and his guardian care was with me. (My young brother, be true to God's eternal truth, and he will never leave you nor forsake you. It has been my rule, from the first to the present, never to enter the pulpit without, before doing so, seeking some secreted spot, and there pour out my soul in earnest prayer to God. I have never, as I have seen some do, on entering the pulpit, bowed in silent prayer. Such always seemed to me too much like the ancient custom of praying at the corners of the streets, to be seen of men. I never offer a secret prayer in a public place, nor a public prayer in a secret place.) Dr. Ellis was born of Methodist parents, christened in his infancy and had been educated for the ministry.

Up to that time he had, as memory now serves us, received by way of remuneration, one side of bacon, two bushels of wheat, one pig, one colony of bees, and one dollar in money. I could give no thought to dealing in stock, the work demanded it and called for all our thought. It did not take a prophet to see the inevitable. Mrs. H. and I consulted carefully, and talked of the propriety of moving to more favored regions. That, however, under existing circumstances, would seem like beating a cowardly retreat, and our sin in doing so would be more heinous than that of Jonah. Wife told me to get her an outfit for making cloth and she would furnish wearing apparel for the family, and we could raise some grain and hogs and we could live as those among whom we lived. We wrote a letter to the {{uc|A. C. Review}}, and gave the condition of affairs in that country. Some wrote to us and sent words of condolence, expressions of sympathy, and told us how thankful they were that the good work was going on; but not one, so far as we ever learned, were thankful for the opportunity of having fellowship in an apostolic mission. Bro. J. W. McGarvey did send us the {{uc|[[Apostolic Times]]}}, which was then being edited by himself, Lard, Hopson and Graham, gratuitous for one year.

The sects at Berryville, having failed to check our work there on the Dr. Ellis plan, held a counsel of war. The decision was to get Uncle Ike to deal a death blow to heresy there. It was announced that Isaac Standlee would expose Campbellism in the town of Berryville upon a certain fifth Lord's day. We had an appointment in a different part for that day, but we decided to hear Uncle Ike. We entered the hall just as the speaker was ready to commence. Preachers and people were present, and evidently ready<*-Chapter 4-*>

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<*Chapter 4*>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.
<*-Chapter 4-*><*Chapter 5*>{{ph|class=chapter|Chapter Five}}

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."
{{nop}}<*-Chapter 5-*>

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<*Chapter 5*>It was now evident that there would be no debating to do in those parts. The preachers were, as a rule, an ignorant class, and moral cowards. They could superintend a mourners' bench exercise, but were profoundly ignorant of God's plan of justification. We kept a challenge before them, proposing to meet any man that they would put forth, and, if nothing more, affirm the proposition, "The mourners' bench system is idolatrous." They pronounced such a proposition {{SIC|sacriligious|sacrilegious}}, yet they could not find a man possessed of courage enough to negative that proposition.

There was no church house in Berryville. The public school had been given into the hands of Prof. Clark, principal of the academy, and the public school building appropriated to church purposes, to be free to all. One Lord's day was vacant when we commenced there and we had held that day. The conclusion was that they could take that day, and so deprive us of any place to preach in town. When we went to our appointment, which was always for Saturday night, Lord's day and night, we found an elderly man there with an appointment for each hour that we had been occupying. We succeeded in compromising with him in an agreement to divide the time. At our next appointment we found another man there with three appointments covering our time. He was more stubborn than the first, but we succeeded in compromising with him as with the first. That was a disappointment to those who had engineered the matter, and they concluded that they would, at our next appointment, have matters more to their notion.

At our next appointment it was between sunset and dark when we reached town. The men were watching to see what we would do. As we passed in to the stair I asked us what we would do, for, said they, "There are three Presbyterian preachers here in a protracted meeting, and have had meetings several nights." I replied, "I will preach here tonight and tomorrow." They said, "You cannot for they will not allow that." I said, "Go to meeting and I will manage the preaching part." When I got to the meeting house two elderly men were in the pulpit, and the audience was singing. I walked direct into the pulpit and sat down between the preachers. I had never seen either of the preachers, but, of course, they knew who I was, and their looks were as though they thought that Satan had again presented himself among the Sons of God.

When the song closed I told the preachers who I was, that I had been preaching there for some time, and that was my regular time; that I was glad to be with them, and I thought we could get along in a brotherly manner- that I had not come there to interfere with their meeting, but to meet my own appointment, and beyond that I would have no farther claims. I proposed to divide the time that night and next day at eleven and I would leave town. To my proposition they objected and made excuses, but I would not listen to excuses. I told them that I thought it would look fearful bad for us, as preachers, to show that we did not have the spirit of Christianity enough to preach together the two hours I proposed. One of them said, "You say you will quit and go home if we will divide the two hours with you?" "Yes," said I, "I promised that and will make my promise good." "With that understanding," said he, "we will divide the two appointments with you. I will preach tonight<*-Chapter 5-*>

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<*Chapter 5*>and you can follow me, and you can preach in the morning and we will follow you." He preached from John 7:17, but showed profound ignorance as to the subject matter contained in that language. I followed with a short discourse upon the leading thought in the fore part of that language. He then announced that I would preach next morning at 10 o'clock. The hour was set without consulting me, so I did not get there till half-past ten. The preachers were very impatient and told me that the time had passed. I called for a song, and when the introductory services were concluded it was 11 o'clock. The disciples felt good over our success in managing the arrangements.

Old Father Walker, one of the two disciples to whom we were referred at the time of our first visit to Berryville, was an Israelite in whom there was no guile. He was full when we entered into our discourse. He was eighty-four years old, and just waiting for his summons to go to the other shore. We had the two old preachers to sit in the pulpit. I took as a subject, "What must I do to be saved?" I preached one hour, and, I suppose, as earnestly as I ever did. I made my talk chiefly to those preachers, and showed the erroneousness of the anxious seat system. I concluded with an invitation and had four candidates for baptism, prominent citizens. When the success was seen, Father Walker could hold in no longer. He began shouting, two old sisters joined in with their hallelujahs. We sat down and let them shout as long as they wanted to, then took the confession of the candidates, and announced baptism at four o'clock. It was then too late for them to preach. There were some there that did not feel like shouting, but, evidently, would have gone home like if someone had carried out Dr. Ellis' purpose.

The oldest of the preachers announced that they would preach at two o'clock. He made a tremendous effort to get up an excitement, but they were, evidently, nearer a religious chill, all were cool. The song having closed, and nobody moved, he said he had another proposition to make, he wanted everybody in the house that wanted to go to heaven to give him their hand while another song was being sung. It was nearing the time for the baptizing. I walked out, and as I did so I passed two of the candidates, and said to them, "It is time we were going to the water." It was but a short distance to where my clothes were. I got them and started for the water, and by that time the people had all left the meeting house for the place of baptizing. The preachers left for other parts, without any arrangements for their appointment at night.
<*-Chapter 5-*><*Chapter 6*>{{ph|class=chapter|Chapter Six}}

Dr. Ellis had changed his tactics. He concluded that he could get a preacher to meet us in debate, that could literally annihilate us. He failed, however, to find any one that would undertake such a job. Failing to find a preacher that would undertake to meet us, the Doctor concluded he was, with a little preparation, sufficient for such an undertaking. He concluded, however, that he was not as well posted as he ought to be with what we taught in order to make the necessary preparation. He wanted some of my books to read but was too stubborn to ask for them. I called at his office one day,<*-Chapter 6-*>

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<*Chapter 6*>and having spoken to him he looked at me in a very impudent manner and said, "I dare you to convert me to such a gospel as you preach." I replied, "I will do so, sir." He said, "Do so, sir, and you will have my assistance here, for you preach the simplest gospel I ever heard of." I said, "I will convert you before I am done with you, but I cannot do you much good till you read and inform yourself." He said, "I am not afraid, sir, to read anything you will furnish me." I took him Bro. Franklin's Sermons. He went to work in earnest to gather the points and arrange his scripture to refute them. As he told a friend, however, the Bible all turned against him. This so disappointed him that he concluded to be an infidel. He was not, however, the kind of material out of which infidels are made. He then concluded that Universalism would be a good substitute for the ninth article of their Discipline- if not so wholesome, but it would be very full of comfort. He soon concluded, however, that he could not be a genuine Universalist, but that the best thing would be to obey the gospel and live a Christian. This he did, and so made his word to me good, for we had his assistance, and he worked in earnestly.

When the conclusion was that all things were favorable for a protracted effort in Berryville, we secured the services of Jesse Alderson of Barry Co., Mo. to do the preaching. The meeting lasted four weeks, and there were forty additions. The brethren of the entire country cooperated in the meeting, and Bro. Alderson received, by way of remuneration, $40, and a suit of clothes. The people of those parts thought that was wonderful, and many said, a man that will accept that much money for holding one meeting was preaching for the money. One old man made himself incendiary there during the protracted meeting. He gave Bro. Alderson a pair of beautiful fat hogs, and called it his donation. The hogs were worth as many dollars money as Bro. Alderson was receiving, and calculated what he could do with this it costing him much. He had several nice porkers, and he had six nice ones butchered and sent them to Bro. Alderson's family. After his liberality had been well noised abroad, he went among the brethren privately, told them what the hogs were worth, and he thought the brethren ought to pay him for the hogs. No one, however, felt under obligations to do so, as he had not consulted any of them before making the donation. His religion did not last very long.

We received for our second year's labour about twenty dollars, for the third about thirty dollars. During the third year we preached some in the regions known as the Hale Barrens. There was a congregation of Baptists there. Some of them became dissatisfied, some became alarmed. They sent for Uncle Ike, and notified him that he had to meet us there and refute what we taught or they would leave the Baptist Church.

A Bro. Hanby lived there who managed the matter on our part, and arrangements were made for a debate. The founding of the church, and the design of baptism were the points for discussion. W. B. Flippin of Yellville, Ark. was our moderator, and really constituted the board. He had been judge of the court, and a member of the legislature, and, consequently, was familiar with parliamentary usage. I met Bro. F. at a point twenty-five miles east of where I lived and we reached our house the day before the debate began. I noticed Bro. F. had his large saddle-bags filled to their utmost capacity. Soon as we were seated in our house he began to show us different authors<*-Chapter 6-*>

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<*Chapter 6*>on the points to be investigated. I said, "Bro. Flippin, I have my matter arranged, and I prefer relying upon my own resources." I then showed him what I had prepared. He said, "Your arrangement will do."

When we met at the place of debate remarks were made about the contrast between the disputants. I was thirty-one years old, and Elder Standlee had been preaching thirty-one years. Several Baptist preachers were present, evidently expecting their recognized champion to have an easy time. They, however, soon became restless, and about the middle of our second speech in the afternoon they became panic stricken and stampeded. The moderators had us to stop speaking till those preachers could get away and quietude could be restored. When we delivered our first speech in the afternoon of the second day, on the time of the beginning, and had shown that the more intelligent part of Baptist preachers had taught as we did, instead of replying to our speech, Elder Standlee arose and said that he believed himself that we were right on that point. Bro. Flippin then arose and announced the debate closed, and proposed that a song be sung, and that we all shake hands during the song. This was done and we all parted, feeling as pleasantly as if we had been in a protracted meeting.

It was now October, and we had been there three and a half years. Although wife had made the principal part of our wearing apparel we were some behind. We had preached considerable at a school house in what was known as the Flat Woods of Boone county. A few brethren lived there, and though that they would help out the exchange that way that our farm. Was not so use as first. He was going we had own our what we the owners and make us easy. We traded, and were soon a citizen of Boone county. We were now between twenty-five and thirty miles from Berryville.

The winter was a disagreeable one, and not having an overcoat to wear we did not visit Berryville that winter. The sects concluded that we had abandoned the place, and that they could, hence, again build up their interests there. They united their forces, built a parsonage, and located the presiding elder of the M. D. church south, in Berryville. He boasted that he was going to drive the heinous heresy out of Berryville. The brethren wrote to us. We wrote them to have it well circulated that he would preach in Berryville the fifth Lord's day in March, and would preach on the identity of the Church of Christ. We set the time we did with the hope that the elder would be at home. So he was, but could not be induced to hear our effort. The circuit rider that was with him heard the effort. He spoke up a time or two and contradicted, but was loser by so doing. He announced that he would preach on the same subject the next "Sabbath," and requested our presence. We agreed to be there, with the understanding that we were to reply to what he said. He and the elder put in the week preparing his discourse. When we met he spoke two and one half hours, evidently thinking to weary the people so that they would not be prepared to hear our reply. We occupied one hour and a quarter in replying to what he said. When he closed he seemed to realize that, in the estimation of the people, he was badly the loser. He rather sneeringly remarked, "I don't think it is necessary to try to reply to what you have just heard, for I don't see how I could take hold of such<*-Chapter 6-*>

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<*Chapter 6*>a speech." A number of sisters immediately replied, "I guess not, I don't suppose you do." He was disappointed by this unexpected reply, and sat down. I announced preaching for that night, and then dismissed the audience.

We visited Berryville once a month that year, and while we remained in that country, though much of the time we had to walk. While we lived in Boone we preached in that, Newton, Carroll, and Madison counties. There was in the eastern part of Boone county a congregation of some strength, the leading members of which had moved from Springfield, Mo. Col. Fulbright of Double Springs was one of the leading members. I guess the Colonel never forgot our first acquaintance. Bro. Dan, as he was familiarly called, had been a student at Bethany, Va., and had been a Colonel in the army, and was, hence, looked upon as a leading citizen. He was kind and very companionable, but somewhat inclined to display quite an amount of etiquette. We had heard of him from the time we began laboring in Arkansas. Business having called us to that part soon after locating in Carroll, we concluded to form his acquaintance. On our way to his place we fell in company with a lawyer that lived near Fulbright. We told the lawyer our name, but nothing of our business. When we got to Fulbright's store, the lawyer introduced us using the plain Mr. It was now time for us to know where we were to stop for the night, the company had all left, Bro. F. was at his desk. I stept to the counter near him, and said, "Being in this part, and wanting to form your acquaintance, I thought I would spend the night with you if agreeable." He replied, "We are not prepared to receive strangers." I replied, "It is my desire to spend the time with you while in this part." He said, "We have some company and cannot keep you." I replied, "That is all right, but I will want to see you in the morning." I then handed him the letter of recommendation that I brought from north Missouri. He blushed, but said, "You can brake the last biscuit we have." I said, "That is not what I want. I will stay at the hotel over night and see you in the morning." He said, "You will not go to the hotel, but will stay with me."

We lived in Boone county three years, at the expiration of which time a change was necessary. We moved to Washburn, Mo. There was a little band of brethren there, but not in working order. Our labors there were blessed. We had, however, only moved from one destitute field into another. Our appearance, of course, was that of an Arkansawyer. Soon after we moved we learned that a protracted meeting was to commence at a certain time at Rocky Comfort, Mo., a little town sixteen miles from where we lived.

I concluded to go to that meeting, and get acquainted with the brethren. I started at noon Saturday and walked to Rocky Comfort just in time for four o'clock preaching. Bro. Livy Hatchet was reading his introductory lesson when I got to the school house. I took the first vacant seat I came to. Bro. Hatchet was a fine speaker, a fine appearing man, and dressed as fine as broadcloth would dress him. My garb was such as wife had made. She had woven the cloth and made my suit. I had on a pair of brogan shoes and a common domestic shirt. As there was such a contrast in our appearance I did<*-Chapter 6-*>

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<*Chapter 6*>not know whether Bro. Hatchet would care to associate with me. Soon, however, as the audience was dismissed I went to the pulpit and made myself known. He said, "I have heard of you. Why did you not come forward and let yourself be known before services?" I said, "You were introducing when I got here, and I was a little tired, so I took the first vacant seat I came to." Said he, "That was not right, you should have come to the pulpit and told us who you were." Next day I could see that there was some uneasiness among the brethren. Finally one of the elders carne to me and said, "We would love to hear you preach, but the people will expect to hear Bro. Hatchet today." I said, "Of course they will. I did not come here to preach, but to get acquainted." Presently Bro. Hatchet came to me and said, "I want to hear you preach today, but the brethren think it best for me to preach this morning." I replied, "Certainly, you will preach. I did not come here to preach, but to hear you, and get acquainted." Bro. Hatchet made a short discourse, and when ready to dismiss the audience, without consulting any one, said "Bro. Hancock, a preacher from Washburn, Mo. is present and will preach here at three o'clock this evening."

A large crowd gathered to hear the stranger. When I stood up to read I could see that some of them were inclined to hang their heads, and look at me through their eyebrows, for they were somewhat inclined to put on style. By the time, however, that I was half way into my discourse, they were leaning forward, as though fearful they might miss a word. Presently we noticed an M.D., who was about the third tier of seats in front of the pulpit, begin to leave his seat, and presently he was standing perfectly unconscious that he had left his seat. When I closed he looked at those near him, smiled, and sat down. An old brother asked him why he left his seat and looked so earnestly at that preacher. He said, "I wanted to see as well as hear, for it seemed to me that he had some kind of a picture that I wanted to look at." I had to return home that evening. The elders, however, would not agree for me to leave without giving them an appointment for a future time.

About the time we moved to Washburn, J. B. Fly, of the Cumberland Presbyterian church located there; and, evidently, concluded that he could overthrow everything else, and establish C. P. ism on the ruins. His first announcement was to deliver nine lectures on church identity. We listened to his first effort. His foundation was: "He taken away the first, that he may establish the second." His sole effort was to do away with immersion, and establish infant church membership. He showed profound ignorance of the things of which he tried to talk. Yet, it could be seen that, in his own estimation, he was a great theologian. He said that the first covenant of which Paul spoke was established at Sinai, but the second was established 430 years before that in the family of Abraham. After dismissal I went to the pulpit and said to him: "I see the design of your proposed lectures, and I want to inform you that your efforts will be reviewed. I would rather, however, have you present when I review what you say. I propose, therefore, that we discuss these matters, either in a debate, or that we preach discourse about till the points are investigated." He replied, "I do not propose to<*-Chapter 6-*>

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<*Chapter 6*>be interrupted, sir, while delivering my course of lectures." I said, "You need to be, for you are the worst befuddled man that I ever heard try to talk on these matters. You do not seem to have a single clear idea of the covenants as treated by Paul. Can you tell me about the second man, that was created before the first man? You talk about the second covenant that was established before the first one!"

It was evident that he was not going to meet us in the discussion of the points upon ----------------months his preaching was mostly an effort to overthrow what we had been teaching; so for that space of time there was a pulpit fight. As we were determined that all should see the extent of his cowardice, we renewed our challenge on every suitable occasion. Upon one occasion when he had an appointment for a week-day night, the Masons and Odd Fellows had an appointment for a business meeting. The leading citizens of Cassville, and of all the adjoining country were present. All concluded to hear Mr. Fly. His effort, as usual, was one to establish the claims of his little system. And he seemed confident that he had done his work well before that large audience. As he started to dismiss the audience I arose and said, "Brother Fly, your present effort will be reviewed, and as I want your presence when I do so, I again challenge you to meet us in the discussion of these matters, either arrange propositions and debate them, or preach night about till the points of difference are investigated." This was unexpected, and was not received very pleasantly, as his looks showed. He said, "Mr. Hancock, do you think I am a man to be trifled with, sir?" I replied, "I was not, thinking much about that, but was he saying I do not think of you as John says, 'He that feareth is not made perfect in love, for perfect love casts out fear.' I want you to know, and I want this people to know, that I have too much love for the Word of God to fear investigation."

Some time after this I was passing the Mooney Hotel. Mr. Fly and some others were sitting on the portico talking. Mr. Mooney was a member of the C. P. Church. Just before I reached the yard gate I heard enough to know that they were talking about what I preached. I stopped, and asked, "Don't you want my help in that?" Mr. Mooney said, "Yes, come in." Being seated I said, "Bro. Fly, I heard enough of your conversation to know what you were talking about. This matter has gone far enough. You must do one of two things, either meet me in debate, or cease your attacks upon us in the pulpit." He said, "I don't believe in agitation." I said, "I do. It is the agitation of the waters that keep them pure. We must either have agitation or stagnation. If it had not been for religious agitation you never would have been privileged to read the Bible." He said, "What!" I said, "Do you not know that if Luther and others had not agitated the claims of Rome the Bible would have been kept from us? So far as you, or any other one can see, if it had not been for agitation we would never have had redemption: For had there been none to agitate the claims of Christ there would have been none to crucify him, and without his crucifixion we would have been without redemption." He said, "I will not take any affirmative proposition, but will deny that the church of which you are a member is the Church of Christ." I said, "We will debate that one proposition in<*-Chapter 6-*>

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<*Chapter 6*>order to end this matter. I do not, however, believe that you will even dare that. I conclude that you would about as soon lose your right arm as to meet me in open debate before this people. I believe you will back out."

The proposition was written, and I gave it to A. J. Johnson, one of the elders of the congregation there. He got the other elders to go with him, and they called on Mr. Fly. Bro. Johnson said, "We have endorsed Bro. Hancock as the man to defend this proposition, and when you produce a similar endorsement we are ready for the debate." Mr. Fly said, "I will not debate that proposition unless he will make one addition to it." "What is that?" asked Bro. Johnson. Fly said, "He must add to that, that everybody without that institution will be finally and eternally damned." Bro. Johnson replied, "He does not propose to judge the world, but to debate the proposition agreed upon. If you back out, of course, the matter is at an end." Mr. Fly said, "I will not," and left them. Early Lord's day morning I went to Bro. Johnson's to learn the result.

Bro. Johnson said, "Fly backed out." I said, "I knew he would do that, but he cannot rest at that. I will go now to see him, and remind him of what I told him." Bro. Johnson went with me. We met Fly and his daughter starting to an appointment in the country. After the usual compliments I said, "What did I tell you, Bro. Fly? Did I not tell you that you would back out?" He said, "Oh yes, you people are always ready to get up propositions, and when you can do that, backing somebody out." I said, "There is all we can do. It is written that one shall chase a thousand. I can take the Bible and chase one thousand such as you are. Bring one thousand of your equals here, and I will take the Bible and chase you every one away from Washburn." He left Washburn that week and never returned while I stayed there.
<*-Chapter 6-*><*Chapter 7*>{{ph|class=chapter|Chapter Seven}}

The brethren of Boliver, Mo., and vicinity wrote for us to visit that part. They did this with the idea that they would get us to move to that, Polk, county. We went and spent one week, but it did not suit us to move to that part. With the exception of that trip our labors were confined, for the first year and a half, to Barry, McDonald and Newton counties. For that time we received, by way of remuneration, about forty dollars. Through Bro. Murray, of Columbus, Kan., we were requested to visit southeastern Kansas and spend some time. On Saturday before the first Lord's day in October, I think it was, we started for Columbus, Kansas. Saturday night we stayed with an old brother by the name of Cole, near Pierce City, Mo. We worshiped with the brethren there Lord's day, and Monday evening we stopped at a farm house on Jenkins creek, Jasper Co., Mo. There was a congregation of disciples there, and the man we stopped with was one of the deacons. His name was Kinny. He had gone to Carthage that morning, and when he returned, some time after we stopped, a Bro. Smith, the other deacon of the congregation was with him. The forepart of the night was spent in<*-Chapter 7-*>

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<*Chapter 7*>pleasant conversation. In compliance with their earnest request we agreed to preach at their school house the next night. The appointment was well circulated that day, and we had a good audience to talk to that night. It was Lord's day evening, however, before they would agree for us to close and pursue our journey.

Soon as we had dismissed the audience Lord's day evening, a sister came to the pulpit, and having introduced herself, said, "I live at a little place called Fidelity. It is on the road, from what I learn, that you will travel. We need preaching very bad. Just give me the privilege of circulating an appointment for you tomorrow night. One discourse will do good." We called the attention of the audience and announced that we would preach at Fidelity the next night. That night two came forward, which called for baptizing next day. We found no stopping place till Lord's day night, and that night there was one confession, a somewhat noted infidel, but we attended to the baptizing next morning, and started for Columbus. While at Fidelity we had no preaching through the day. A Bro. Reed that was stopping there had occasion to drive to Joplin, and asked us to go with him. We had to go through the little town of Scotland. Bro. Allen Scott lived there. While at Jenkins and Fidelity we had heard him spoken of as a good preacher, and a noble brother.

I told Bro. Reed that I wanted him to halt in Scotland long enough for me to see Bro. Scott. I found him very busy, superintending some butchering. I introduced myself. He eyed me from head to foot, turned, and went about his business. I went back to the buggy. Bro. Reed said, "You did not stay long." I said, "No. He would not even pass the compliments of the day with me. I guess he judged me by my home spun garb, and think they have no use for an Arkansawyer." Bro. Reed said, "There is something wrong. I cannot think that is the spirit of Bro. Scott. He is an old fashioned Tennessenean, not inclined to be stylish, but very open hearted." When we got to Scotland on our return that evening, I said, "Bro. Reed I am going to see Bro. Scott again. It may be that he was somewhat out of humor this morning." I again went to where he was, but he was so distant I did not tarry. I said, "Bro. Reed, that old man has about enough religion to make a regular old fashioned forty gallon Baptist." Bro. Reed said, "I cannot think that to be Bro. Scott's disposition. There is something out of joint."

After attending to the baptizing on Monday morning, as suggested, we started on our road to Columbus. We had, however, to pass through Scotland. We determined to stop and stay long enough to find out what kind of man Bro. Scott was. They had a small congregation there, and as we had spent so much time on the way we concluded that we would go no farther, provided we could get to preach a week in Scotland. When I reached Scotland, I found Bro. S. very busily engaged in preparing a discourse, to be delivered in a school-house, two miles from there, to be delivered that evening, in reply to a sermon preached by a Materialist. Being seated I said, "Bro. Scott, I had started to Columbus, Kansas, but on my way here I have spent so much time that I concluded, if it was desired, to stop here<*-Chapter 7-*>

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<*Chapter 7*>and preach a few sermons, and postpone my trip to Kansas." He stopped writing, and said, "We are not wanting a meeting here. We are not in a condition to hold one, it would do no good, and I guess we will not try it." I said, "You, of course, are to decide as to whether you have a meeting. As to doing good, I will risk that part, and as to remuneration, I am not wanting to hire to hold you a meeting. I would like to preach a few nights." He replied, "We are not in a condition to have a meeting, and I guess we will not undertake one." He then turned his attention to his writing.

Presently old Sister Scott came into the room, and being seated we entered into a conversation. In answer to an inquiry as to where I was from, I told her that my home was at Washburn, Mo., that I moved from Boone Co., Ark., to Washburn. She then asked, "Did you know Dr. Kirby of Harrison, that county?" I said, "Yes, Dr. Kirby was my right hand bower. I have been with him a great deal." The old folks looked at each other and smiled. The first smile that I had seen on Bro. Scott's face. The old sister said, "Dr. Kirby is my son." I said, "Bro. Kirby had often told me about his mother, and his step-father, and I knew the name, but I thought they lived in a different part of Missouri to this." She said, "You are now with them." I said, "I am glad to be with you. I thought so much of him, maybe I can think something of you."

The old brother then told me what he was doing, and said, "You stay here today, and go with me to my appointment tonight, the other elder will be there, and if he thinks it necessary we will make an appointment for tomorrow night, though, as I said, I don't think will do any good." After we had gotten to the appointment that night, and just before preaching I saw Bro. Scott in private conversation with a man, I guessed to be "the other elder." I noticed the stranger eye me critically, then turn and say something to Bro. Scott. It was announced that a strange preacher would preach in Scotland the next night. The appointment was announced in the schools of the adjoining neighborhoods next day. After making my discourse that night I sat down, with the conclusion that if they wanted any more preaching they would let it be known. Bro. Scott announced preaching for the next night, and dismissed the audience. After preaching the next night I called on the old brother to conclude the meeting. He announced preaching for the next night, and requested all present to give the meeting as much circulation as possible. The third night I talked of the nature and design of what is called the reformation of the nineteenth century.

Bro. Scott managed to keep his seat till I closed. He then said, "I want you all to tell every body you see, and send word to all that you don't see, that meeting is going on here. Tell them that there is a man here that can learn them something, for he is versed in the gospel." The next night two made the good confession. After baptizing the next day Bro. Scott asked us to walk down to the store. The next Lord's day I could appear in my broad cloth. Of course, the old brother and others were better satisfied with my outward appearance, but I am satisfied that I was no more in earnest, and that, hence, my preaching was not with any<*-Chapter 7-*>

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<*Chapter 7*>more power than when I was dressed in the cloth made by the hands of my faithful wife. Some may have, in consequence of the plainness of my garb, failed to appreciate my humble efforts, but the Lord did not; for he abundantly blessed my efforts. Our meeting continued till Thursday night of the third week, when we had to close to answer a call from home. There were near thirty additions. Next morning Bro. Scott said, "The brethren are not going to be satisfied for you to leave without a promise from you that you will return." I said, "{{SIC|Bro|Bro.}} Scott, I don't see how I can well make such a promise. It is fifty miles, no public conveyance, and I have nothing to ride." He replied, "I have as fine a saddle horse as there is in Jasper county, that I don't need. Just say that you will give us a part of your time and the horse is yours." That left me without excuse. I went home dressed somewhat like a preacher, and the owner of a fine saddle horse.

I labored most of the time in Jasper and Newton counties, and eastern Kansas for three years and a half. I had, however, to soon give up my saddle horse to meet demands at home, and during that three and a half years I walked, in hot weather, as far as seventy-five miles to get to my appointments. That three years and a half's labor was done at a sacrifice of over three hundred dollars. Between twelve and fifteen years of our life was spent as an isolated worker, chiefly in the destitute parts, covering a territory of about 400 by 150 miles. Yet, by hirelings, who know nothing of sacrifice, toils, privations, cares, persecutions, tears and anxieties, I am called {{uc|anti-missionary}}!!

I fear I have consumed more time than I know to the O. R. readers, so with this we close this series./last/

{{right|offset=6em|[[Author:G. B. Hancock|G. B. Hancock]]}}<*-Chapter 7-*>

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