My wife raised a large number of fowls. I cultivated the ground, making it produce all it would, cut and hauled my fuel from the woods, and so managed as to be at no great expense in living. But when going to a city market every week, and feeling no embarra.s.sment about money, we indulged in a style of living that now had to be discontinued. This went rather hard, but we tried to bear it bravely. The plainest and hardest living of our lives, by far, were those years at Eminence. The self-denial of my wife, for my sake and the gospel's, greatly encouraged me to bear the cross.

I did double work during the whole time, reciting eight times a day.

This required intense application. I allowed myself eight hours for sleep, and the other sixteen were given to study. Whether eating, walking, working in the garden or chopping wood, I was boring into the questions of the recitation room. I would occasionally take a little turn with the boys on the playground at noon, but not often. I was fond of it, but felt that I could not spare the time. This was a sad mistake, confirmed by a life of broken-down health. But, like many others, it was not discovered till the mischief was done. A determined effort to crowd four years' work into two, under discouraging circ.u.mstances, resulted in impaired health; which continued labor beyond my strength kept impaired for the rest of my life. It is often stated that preachers suffer more from overeating than overwork. This is doubtless true to a large extent. But it was far from true in my case. I was never a large eater after I was grown. And when my health first failed me, want of a variety of good, nourishing food had no little to do with it. And all through subsequent life, a trouble has been to take sufficient food to meet the wants of the system.

I was the first married man that ever attended Eminence College. It was considered quite a novelty by some. But a few months later, in the same term, Bro. Briney came in. He and his wife boarded at the college. A few years later Bro. George Bersot and wife came, and married school-boys got to be quite common.

While attending school, I preached once a month for the old church at home--Pleasant Hill. The distance was twenty miles, with a good dirt road--when it wasn't bad. This afforded my wife an opportunity, during favorable weather, to go to see her parents once a month. And her father was now getting low with consumption. The church promised me no specified amount for my preaching, and, as is frequently the case, most of them considered the contract complied with when they gave me a hearing. They were not in sympathy with my college enterprise, and were not specially concerned about supporting it.

In May, 1863, my father-in-law died. In his death I lost one of my best and dearest earthly friends. He was the only one who encouraged me in my efforts for an education. While he could give me no material aid, being himself embarra.s.sed by years of affliction, his wise counsel and deep sympathy helped me even more than money, badly as that was needed.

When he was gone, I felt as if the only bright spot in my horizon, apart from my family, had faded into darkness. By nature he had a quick temper, and was very impulsive. By Christian culture he came to be a model in gentleness, patience and self-control. He was a wonderful example of how men, by faith, "out of weakness are made strong." As we stood around his bed of death, and his breathing indicated that the end was at hand, he opened his eyes as I was bending over him, looked me earnestly in the face, and composedly said, "Frank, be a true man." And with these words his spirit took its flight. No other words that ever fell from mortal lips ever so impressed me as these. The source whence they came, and the circ.u.mstances under which they were uttered, gave them peculiar significance. My soul, what is it for one to be a true man--true to his friends and true to his foes; true to his family and to her whose life is dearer to him than his own; true to himself and his better nature in all that involves his honor as a man; true to the truth, under all circ.u.mstances; and true to the Saviour and His cause, to which he has dedicated his life? Ever in after years when tempted in regard to a faithful discharge of its responsibilities, those sacred words came from the sleeping dust of death--"Frank, be a true man."

Though dead, he yet speaks, and his words have been fruitful of good.

While attending his death and funeral, our house was broken into, and almost everything we had was stolen. We had laid in meat and lard for the year, and not a pound was left. All the flour, meal, sugar, coffee, preserves, jams, jellies, and everything else, was taken. Not a pound of anything to eat was left on the place. All the best cupboard ware, and part of the bedding and my wife's clothing were taken. This was a sorry plight to find ourselves in when we returned from the funeral.

The country was full of soldiers, and nothing was done towards recovering the property. Thus we started on a darker and rougher road for the rest of college life.

During the first year at Eminence there grew up a strong rivalry between the two leading college societies--the Philomathean and the Rising Star. Both were strong in numbers, and each had in it an unusual amount of talent. I was appointed by the Philomathean Society to criticise the Rising Stars. This was my special business. I prepared what I called a sc.r.a.p-basket. For this I would prepare notes from time to time, as something would suggest them, and on the nights of public exhibition, which were quite frequent, I would read them. These were cuts at the young ladies and criticisms of their performances, as sharp as I could make them. The result was, the whole Society soon got too much out of humor to speak to me. They called me "Sc.r.a.ps." Even Sister Giltner became offended, and was so for several months, till I was brought down in sickness, and then her good heart conquered, and she came to see me, bringing a load of delicacies to tempt and satisfy my appet.i.te. The "sc.r.a.p" at which she became offended was about this: Coming on the stage, the first sc.r.a.p I took from the basket read: "We do not expect many compliments for this dish of sc.r.a.ps, especially from the young ladies of the boarding-house, as they are so used to being fed on sc.r.a.ps, it will be no variety to them." Sister G. prided herself on her good table. I knew it was good, and hence felt free to make the jocular remark. Had it been otherwise, I should have felt some hesitation in doing so.

President Giltner and I were in frequent conflict, and he came in for a full share of notice from the sc.r.a.p-basket. While I would not a.s.sent to his views of things, which frequently caused disputation, on the whole he was kind and generous, and did much to help me through those hard school years. I have since met many of those young ladies in all parts of the country, mothers of interesting families, but not one of them had ever forgotten that sc.r.a.p-basket.

Doctor Russell was my teacher in Latin and the Sciences, and Prof.

Henry Giltner in Mathematics and Greek. The Doctor was a fine moralist, but an unbeliever. He was a fine teacher, and very popular with the boys.

In the public debates in our society, Bro. J. B. Briney and I were always pitted against each other. We were the oldest and the nearest equal in our advancement, especially in this line. We had quite a number of public discussions.

Here, as elsewhere, many went through on the shoulders of others. As an ill.u.s.tration of this, take two young men who were appointed on public debate. Soon each came to me insisting that I should write his speech.

I refused both. The time was drawing nigh, and neither had done anything. One evening one of them went home with me from school, and compelled me, virtually, to write his speech. He was delighted with it.

The next morning, while he was asleep, I got up and wrote a reply, just "tearing it all to flinders." The negative gained the decision, and neither one knows to this day that I wrote the speech of the other.

During the winter of 1862-3 I went to Hendronsville, the old church that now composes the one at Smithfield, to fill an appointment for Bro. Giltner. I went to dinner with old Bro. Hieatt. On leaving, he gave me a dollar--the first dollar I ever received for preaching.

In the summer of 1863 I held a meeting at Hendronsville, with Bro.

Giltner, for which I was liberally paid, all things considered, and this was my first pay for a protracted meeting.

The same vacation, I went to South Fork, in Boone county, to fill an appointment for Bro. Wm. Tandy. Bro. Jacob Hugley was to come on the first of the week, and join me in a protracted meeting. Something prevented him from coming. I soon ran out of sermons, the supply on hand being small. In the meantime a fine interest had sprung up, and I had no excuse for quitting. So I had either to face the music, prepare and preach two sermons a day, or ingloriously surrender. The meeting continued two weeks, with some eighteen or twenty additions. During the same trip I held a meeting at a church near Walton, at which several additions were made to the congregation.

I did but little preaching during the school term. Convenient churches could not be obtained, and inconvenient ones took too much of my time to be given for nothing.

At Eminence I first met Bro. I. B. Grubbs. He came to preach for a few days, and spent a day at our humble home. I then formed for him a peculiar attachment, which has grown and strengthened with the pa.s.sing years. Our minds ran close together in the channels of divine truth, and they have never materially diverged. A disagreement between us in the interpretation of Scripture has been very rare.

Old Bro. T. M. Allen preached for the church at Eminence while I was there. His sermons were enjoyable, and possessed considerable power, but they lacked logical construction, and I learned but little from them.

In a few weeks after going to Eminence, in the fall of 1862, we were blessed with the birth of a third daughter, and in the summer of 1864 the Lord took her to himself, and left us to mourn her absence.

In June, 1864, I went with Willis and Wallace c.o.x to Daviess county, to hold some meetings. Wallace was not able to preach, but went along for the enjoyment of the trip. He had labored there before, and was well acquainted. We held a meeting at Owensboro, and one at a new church some eight miles in the country. Both meetings were moderately successful.

As an evidence of what some men can do, I shall speak of a meeting held about this time, _without giving place or name_. The meeting had been successful, and a fine interest prevailed. The night it was to close there came a severe storm, and no one was out. We had to leave the next morning, and on the next Lord's day the brethren raised considerable money and gave it to the preacher to send to us. Some years after, the brother who was with me in the meeting went back there to preach for the church, and while there some one asked him whether he and I received our money all right. This was the first intimation that any money had been sent to us. The case was investigated by the church, and the man confessed he had never sent it. The brother got his, and the thief preacher promised to send mine, but hasn't done it yet. He is still preaching, and on several occasions has come a long way to hear me preach. What kind of a face and heart such a man can have, is a mystery I have never been able to solve!

CHAPTER IX.

Leaves College. Goes to Alexandria, Ky. An Adventure in Ohio. A Baby _not_ Baptized. Peril in Crossing the River. Opens His School. Makes Some Money. Buys a Nice Home.

Having obtained a sufficient knowledge of Latin, Greek, and various sciences, to enable me to prosecute my education without a teacher, and my health being bad through close application and hard living, and feeling that I ought not to subject my family to such hardships any longer, I determined, very reluctantly, to leave college, at least for a time. I had now been at Eminence two years, and I shall ever thank G.o.d that even for this short time I was able to gratify my burning desire to acquire knowledge. It was at a great sacrifice we went there and remained as long as we did, but we have never once regretted it.

Through the influence of President Giltner, we secured the High School at Alexandria, Campbell county, Ky. This had been conducted for some years previously by Bros. O. A. and Chester Bartholomew, under the name of the "Mammoth Inst.i.tute." I visited the place, and arranged to conduct the school and preach for the church there, which was small and financially weak; but there was no other in reach. So I could not do better than to give them all my time, at whatever could be raised in the way of salary. They had a nice little brick house, and a number of good members, and for several years the church prospered; but the county filled up with Germans, some of the best members moved away, and the cause went down. The house was sold, and to-day we have no church in the place.

After completing arrangements to preach and teach, I went over to Hamersville, Brown county, O., to see some relatives. A brother and sister of my father lived there, besides other relatives. My uncle had a large family. I had never visited any of them, and now being near and having a little time, I borrowed a horse and rode over. I sent an appointment for Lord's day at Hamersville, and got there about the middle of the week. I found that an appointment had not been made for Sunday morning, but for night. The reason was, the Methodists were to have a quarterly meeting in the woods near town--a big affair--and everybody was going. Hence I could get no hearing in the morning. I went to the meeting, as it was the only place to which to go. It was thought that three thousand people were on the ground. There were seven preachers. It was during the darkest period of the war, and every man from the south side of the Ohio River was looked upon with suspicion. I had been there several days, and quite a number knew who I was and where I was from. I took a seat near the stand, and when they prayed, in conformity with their custom, I kneeled in the leaves. The old preacher who "led in prayer" yelled as if his congregation was a mile away and G.o.d was on a journey. He began by praying for the President; then his Cabinet; then the Senate; then the Representatives; then the generals; then the colonels; then the captains; then the private soldiers. All this I tolerated, but did not say Amen. Finally he prayed for the utter extermination of the Southern people. He besought G.o.d to wipe them out of existence--men, women and children--from the Ohio River to the Gulf of Mexico. This blasphemy and contemptible wickedness I could not endure, and I arose from my knees. Perhaps five hundred people saw me when I got up. The point in the prayer at which I got up aroused suspicion, and inquiry was in a moment rife. They learned who I was and where I was from, and the excitement grew intense. Numerous threats were made to hang me on a limb there and then. The country was full of what they called "copperheads," who had kept very quiet, because it was to their interest to do so, but now they were aroused, and any attempt at violence would have led to the most serious trouble.

During the intermission at noon, men of different politics congregated in different groups, in earnest conversation, and the meeting was forgotten in the excitement over a refusal to indorse that prayer. I was waited on by a committee to know if it was my political feelings that caused me to get up when I did. Without hesitation, I confessed that it was. Then they said, "What more need have we of evidence?" It was finally decided, so we were informed, that I would not be allowed to preach at night--that they would egg me, etc. But at night, not only the house, but the yard, was full of "copperheads" who meant "business," and I preached without molestation.

They had been holding these meetings at various places throughout the country, and at all of them sprinkled all the children that their parents could be induced to bring. One lady had a bright little boy about eighteen months old, and when the Presiding Elder took him to "baptize" him, he said, "Sister, name this child." She responded, "His name is Vallandigham." He flew into a perfect rage, handed the child to her as if it were burning his fingers, saying, "If you want this child baptized you will have to change its name. I will baptize no child named for a traitor." The mother took the child and departed. We presume that had its name been Jeff. Davis, he would have broken its neck on the spot. Such was the "religion" of that cla.s.s at that time.

The speeches on the day alluded to were nothing but political harangues of the most exciting nature. Previously I had thought they had politics and religion mixed, but I now discovered that there was no mixture about it.

On my return, I had a little adventure in crossing the river. The ferry was at New Richmond. The boat was a small affair, propelled by poles and oars. It was just wide enough for a wagon, and had railings on the sides. A two-horse wagon went in before me. When we got some distance out into the river, one of the horses jumped over the railing, and caused the boat to careen so that it was filling rapidly. It was astonishing how those river men, who, perhaps, had been reared on the water, became excited. They seemed almost incapable of any intelligent action, but yelled like so many savages. I decided at once upon my course. I got into the wagon, calculating that the water would probably not come to my head while standing up, should the boat go down. If it should, then I determined to take my horse by the tail and let him tow me ash.o.r.e. But the owner of the team succeeded in cutting the harness, thus freeing the horse and allowing the boat to right itself so that it did not sink.

We moved from Eminence to Alexandria, and boarded with a gentleman by the name of Brown. He had a nice family, a good house, and he was a clever gentleman, and a "hardsh.e.l.l" Baptist of the first water.

Our school opened about the first of September, with seventy-eight pupils, and it soon increased to 130. Not expecting so many, I had secured no a.s.sistant but my wife; and the result was, we were both over-worked. I had to hear several cla.s.ses out of school hours, especially in Latin and Greek. There were some young men in these studies, clerks, merchants, etc., who were not otherwise in the school, and these recitations were in the evening after school was dismissed.

This, with preaching every Lord's day, worked me very hard. The school paid well, and for the first time since I gave up business for the gospel of Christ, I made some money.

In a few months, as soon as I saw an open road to success, I bought a nice little cottage and two acres of ground, from Bro. Giltner, at $1,200. He had taken it for a school debt, and let us have it on reasonable terms. It was nicely improved, and altogether a desirable piece of property. Thus for the first time we had a home of our own.

This is a luxury that comparatively few preachers can enjoy. Moving from place to place as, for example, Methodist preachers have to do, is unfavorable to domestic happiness. How few members of our churches ever think of this, or make allowance for the discomfort frequent changes of residence impose upon the families of their preachers! To own a home and have the taste and the means to adorn it, is an educational force in any family; its lack, a great misfortune.

CHAPTER X.

Narrow Escapes. Is Thrown from a Horse. Has Pneumonia. Nearly Killed.

Self-possession. Almost Drowned. Eludes Angry Soldiers. Reflections.

During the Christmas holidays we went down to Oldham county to see our relatives. While there, an event occurred, the recollection of which brings up a chapter of NARROW ESCAPEs. .h.i.therto untold, a few of which I shall relate in their order.

When about thirteen years of age, a horse on which I was riding in a slow walk and on a level road, fell, throwing me over its head and coming over on top of me. It broke both bones of my left ankle and several ribs, mashing in my left breast, which has ever since been much depressed; it never developed like the other, and the lung on that side is the one now chiefly affected. This accident occurred at Ballardsville, on a public day, some three miles from home. I was taken to the home of Dr. Swaine, our family physician, near which it happened. He was absent, and a doctor from Shelby county was called. He had a carpenter to make a box, reaching from my foot to my knee, and in this he put my leg. The box was straight on the bottom, and as the break was just in the hollow between the calf and the heel, anybody that had any sense should have known that the broken part would settle down level with the rest, and a bad job be the result. It was badly set, and gave me much trouble for several years.

Following this, in successive winters, I had two severe spells of pneumonia in that left lung, in both of which my life was despaired of.

One day I was hauling heavy barn sills. They were swung under the hind axle, and the pole was tied by a chain back around the sill. The chain caught on a solid rock in the road, and, as I had four strong horses, and they all came to a dead pull, the chain broke; then the pole came over with force enough to have mashed every bone in a man's body. The horses happened to be on a straight pull, and the pole just brushed by my right shoulder and side. Had it struck me, I might as well have been struck by a cannon-ball. That ended my dragging logs without a block under the front end of the pole.

While trading in Louisville, a grocery firm with which I dealt to some extent had a clerk who was very dissipated at times. He was a desperate character, and, when drinking, was very dangerous. One day I sold them a lot of bacon, and this clerk, who almost had delirium tremens at the time, made a mistake in weighing it. When I told him of it, he took it as an accusation of intentional swindling. Instantly he came at me with a large cheese knife, swearing vengeance and his eyes flashing fire.

There was nothing in reach with which to defend myself, and I could not well get out of his way. I decided instantly on the only possible way of escape. I stood perfectly still, did not move a hand, and looked him steadily in the eye. When he got to me, he hesitated a moment, and the uplifted hand with the huge knife dropped to his side. Not a word was spoken, nor did my eye fall from his, and he turned and went back to his work.

During the summer after I confessed the Saviour, quite a number of hands were harvesting at my father-in-law's. On Sat.u.r.day evening we went to a large pond near by to bathe. It was made to supply a saw-mill by throwing a large dam across a hollow. It covered, perhaps, an acre of ground, and was twelve or fifteen feet deep in places. I never could swim successfully, but a number of those present were good swimmers, and there were many slabs on the pond that would float several men. I told them I believed I could swim across the pond, and if I could not there were too many good swimmers present to let me drown. I swam across once, and, after resting a moment, started back. When I got about the middle, I missed my stroke and went down. I thought nothing of it at first, fully expecting that when I came to the top they would save me. I came to the top, could hear them yelling like Indians, but no one came to my rescue. I took breath and went down again. When I came up the second time the result was the same. When I came up the third time, and no one there to help me, I began to get a little uneasy and considerably out of humor. I was becoming exhausted, and I knew that I could not come to the top more than once or twice more. I tried to go to the bottom, knowing that if I could touch bottom I could spring to the surface without exertion. But I could not reach the bottom. I came up the fourth time; still no one gave me a.s.sistance. By summoning the entire stock of remaining strength, I came up the fifth time. As I did so, a strong young man, Sparks by name, a good swimmer, caught me by the left arm near the shoulder. He told me to take hold of him, but this I refused to do. I thought this might endanger him, and that if I would be perfectly pa.s.sive he could manage me with no danger to himself. But when I would not take hold of him, he let me go and swam off and left me. Another man was within ten feet at the time, coming to his a.s.sistance. When I went down this time, I was satisfied they were going to let me drown. I felt that I could not come to the top again, and could not reach the bottom. I thought if I could reach the bottom I could crawl out by springing to the top now and then for breath. But I could not touch bottom. I then began to calculate the chances of their getting my body out in time to resuscitate it. I knew it would not take long to cut the dam and drain the pond; but, when I reflected that they had not the presence of mind to do anything, I lost all hope in that direction. I saw no chance for me, and regarded the end as come. The reflection that I had obeyed the gospel was intensely joyous. During the whole time I had not strangled, knowing that it would be fatal. A young man named Gipson--Sam Gipson--one of the owners of the mill, was some eighty yards away, filing the saw. When Sparks swam away and left me, Gipson saw they were going to let me drown, and ran to my a.s.sistance. He got on one of the large slabs, and came in to where I had gone down. I was still making some commotion in the water, and, guessing about where I was, he pushed a plank down that came just under my left arm. I knew what it was, and pressed it to my side. He then bore on the other end and brought me to the surface. He held on thus till others came and helped me upon the slab. As soon as I got breath a few times I appeared to be all right, and they thought I was only playing a trick on them; but in a few moments I tumbled over, became black in the face, and suffered intensely for several hours.

On one occasion during the war I went into Floydsburg, on the morning after Christmas day. There was a little squad of Confederates there, belonging to the command of Col. Jessee, of New Castle, Ky. One of them was a boy, named Hall, who went from that neighborhood. The rest were strangers. I was introduced to the lieutenant in command, and had some talk with him. The main street of the town runs east and west. About the middle, the Brownsboro road comes in from the north, at a right angle. This comes down a "branch" which crosses the main street. At the east end of town the road descends into another hollow. Some of the soldiers were inside, some sitting outside, of a blacksmith shop, and some on their horses. I had walked near the east end, till I was just on the ridge between the two hollows. I was standing at the door of Col. Wilson, talking to his wife, when several companies of negroes, stationed at La Grange under the command of white men, came marching into town. They were a terror to the whole country. A little negro boy, chopping wood just at the east edge of town, informed the commander, who was riding in front, that the rebels were at the shop. Instantly everything was quieted, and a stealthy march for the shop began. From my position I could see both parties, and that the rebels were wholly unsuspecting. While they were nothing to me, and I had but little sympathy with them, for they were not in the regular service, I could not stand and see them surprised and shot. I determined to warn them.

Mrs. Wilson tried to dissuade me, a.s.suring me that it would be certain death. I confess I could see it in no other light myself, yet I could not decline. I walked down the street with an unconcerned air, about forty yards in advance of the company. The lieutenant was sitting on his horse sidewise, with his face turned from me, talking to a Presbyterian preacher. I could see the eyes of the preacher over the shoulders of the horse, but he was looking up into the face of the other man, and I could catch the eye of neither. Finally, I had to stop and make lively demonstrations in the face of the whole negro command.