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A Book 
 of Memories 
 
 1842-1920 
 
 B37 
 
 Washington Bryan Crumpton 
 
 28 Years Corresponding Secretary of the 
 Baptist Mission Board of Alabama 
 
 Montgomery, Ala.: 
 
 BAPTIST MISSION BOARD 
 
 1921 
 
Jdebtcatton 
 
 To the Loyal Baptist Men and Women of Alabama, 
 
 I affectionately dedicate so much of the Memories as pertain 
 to Denominational Work and History 
 
 One-half of the children God has given me are in heaven 
 with their Noble Mother; 
 
 To the other five: Matilda Edwards, Martha Washington 
 
 Shelburn, Claudia Evangeline Crumpton, Washington 
 
 Bryan and Robert Cochran Crumpton, 
 
 I dedicate that part of these Memories which relate to 
 me personally. 
 
 (iii) 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Part One: 
 
 Period of Boyhood to 18. 
 
 Part Two: 
 
 Period of Travel, 
 
 To California and Return. 
 
 Part Three : 
 
 Period of the Civil War. 
 
 Part Four: 
 
 Call to the Ministry. 
 
 Part Five: 
 
 Period in the Ministry. 
 
 Part Six: 
 
 Miscellanea, v^hich includes : 
 The Story of Prohibition. 
 A Half Century of Howard College. 
 Bailey and Colportage. 
 First and last Religious Controversy. 
 
 HISTORICAL: 
 
 Part Seven: 
 
 Tennessee Valley and Mountain Baptists. 
 Some Preachers and Laymen I Have Known. 
 
 Part Eight : 
 
 Central Alabama Baptists. 
 
 Some Preachers and Laymen I Have Known. 
 
 Part Nine : 
 
 Baptists of South Alabama. 
 
 Some Preachers and Laymen I Have Known. 
 
 (v) 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 To write a fitting Introduction to this charming life- 
 story, is out of the question on my part. And yet, I 
 would gladly emphasize on the fact which is every- 
 where apparent, the Hand of God Leading. How it 
 stands out every where. Surely "God has a plan for 
 every life." 
 
 As one reads the rise and growth of the Methodists 
 in the 18th century, he is constantly impressed with the 
 use made of Religious Biography. 
 
 Men of all kinds wrote and had others to write, tell- 
 ing what God had done and could do for poor lost sin- 
 ners. In this way the country was flooded with the 
 literature of experience and thousands were led to 
 Christ. 
 
 On that account, I am glad that Brother Crumpton 
 has put into shape this story, covering many years and 
 having to do with almost every part of our State. 
 Many shall be led to see his Lord and learn to look for 
 His Guiding Hand. He has set out the facts that 
 need to be seen, in order to interpret his life. 
 
 His Youth, so bouyant and hopeful ; his Conversion, 
 with its lights and shadows ; his travels and God's 
 keeping care; His Call to the Ministry; is worthy of 
 deep and most reverent thoughtfulness. How God led, 
 watched and made use of others to help him to enter 
 the open door ; his pastorates, so peaceful and hopeful ; 
 his call to the Secretaryship and his long, laborious and 
 useful life therein and, finally his laying off the close- 
 fitting harness for the quiet and comforts of a mellow 
 evening — all this and much more, in which is seen the 
 Guiding Eye, Shepherding Hand and the changeless 
 love of God. This is what I would emphasize. 
 
 (vii) 
 
I first saw him in Georgetown College. He was 
 fresh from the war and I from the farm in Missouri ; 
 an unseen Hand had led us there. 
 
 His vivacity, good cheer, happy heart and tender 
 sympathy, made him a universal favorite and every- 
 body loved him. 
 
 But bye and bye, he left us. Then, after fifteen 
 years, we met again. 
 
 The Baptists of Alabama needed a Secretary and the 
 duty of finding one was laid on Judge Jonathan Haral- 
 son, J. M. Frost and myself. 
 
 The Board put the burden on him and from that 
 hour, he laid hold of the mighty task. 
 
 As Lloyd-George lately said of English politics, he 
 could well say: ''Whichever way we walk now, we 
 soon find ourselves in a fog." Difficulties were every- 
 where, but under his wise and patient efiforts, the diffi- 
 culties were overcome, the Baptists of the State be- 
 came united and a genuine enthusiasm prevailed. 
 
 His hand of uplift was strong. I doubt if the peo- 
 ple will ever know, how strong he was in helping to 
 maintain the Howard and the Judson, in keeping alive 
 the Alabama Baptist, in arousing the spirit of Missions, 
 in encouraging the Woman's Work, the B. Y. P. U., 
 the Sunday School and the work of the Anti-Saloon 
 League. God has greatly honored him and now, with 
 the work behind him, he is easily one of the first citi- 
 zens of his native State. But why say more? Let him 
 speak for himself in "A Book of Memories." 
 
 A. C. DAVIDSON. 
 
 (viii) 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 My good friend, Dr. L. O. Dawson, the long-time 
 bishop of Tuskaloosa, in a letter, put it this way to 
 me : "You owe it to the brethren to write an auto-bi- 
 ography which would not only give the leading points 
 in your life, but the important periods in the life of 
 the Baptists of Alabama, for the last fifty years. I 
 hope you will do this, for such a volume would be of 
 use and value to all the State." 
 
 I had thought somewhat of it before, but probably 
 it never would have been attempted, but for his let- 
 ter. 
 
 Often, I said of my father, who lived to be eighty- 
 nine : "With him were buried historical treasures of 
 family and State, which would have been priceless if 
 I had only had the patience to have gotten them from 
 him." Now that I am growing old, perhaps I owe it 
 to my children, my friends and my brethren, to delve 
 into the nearly-forgotten things of the past and hand 
 down to them historical data, they may appreciate. 
 
 These papers have been in course of preparation for 
 near three years. I had grave doubts, in the begin- 
 ning, of being able to finish them, because of my fee- 
 ble health. Many a night, when I closed the office, I 
 put the MS. carefully away, with a note on top, telling 
 what to do if I never saw it again. My earnest prayer 
 was that I might be spared to finish the task. 
 
 So, here I am at the last, sending the story to pros- 
 pective readers, telling them of a few of the ups and 
 downs of a long life. 
 
 If the book seems scrappy, please remember, it was 
 prepared amid constant interruptions. If it seems ego- 
 tistical, remember, I am the chap, it was suggested I 
 
 (ix) 
 
should write about. For one time I stuck to the sub- 
 ject. If the style seems simple and familiar, remem- 
 ber, it was prepared especially for the eyes of my chil- 
 dren, life-long friends and their children. 
 
 If one given to criticism, should chance to look into 
 the book, he will find a wide-open field for the exercise 
 of his gifts. 
 
 A publisher wrote asking that he might see the 
 manuscript in order that he might pass on its "Lit- 
 erary Merit," before making a bid. By failing to 
 send it, I plead guilty to the charge of perpetrating, 
 on an unsuspecting public, a book without "Literary 
 Merit." 
 
 My Boyhood story and travels to California and re- 
 turn, ought to interest the young; my Military Career, 
 may awaken the dim recollections of the few old Con- 
 federates who are left. It will seem very tame to the 
 boys who went over seas to fight the Huns ; but let 
 them remember, that with the material with which we 
 had to fight, we made a record, which the great mili- 
 tary peoples of the earth, much admired. 
 
 My Call to the Ministry and My Ministry, will in- 
 terest the preachers and may be of use to young men 
 entering the service of the Master. 
 
 The Preachers and Laymen I have known, will call 
 to mind many a good man, who lived and wrought and 
 passed away, to be forgotten of men, but whose record 
 is on high. 
 
 Some Noble Women, I shall name only a few, who 
 brightened the old world as they passed through. 
 
 The Mission work done and the fields where it was 
 done and the great changes that have come over the 
 people therein, is well worthy of record. 
 
 The Story of Prohibition, itself, could be spun out 
 profitably to fill a separate volume. 
 
 The Miscellanea — another way I have of saying, the 
 Odds and Ends, that I couldn't fit in elsewhere — gives 
 
 (X) 
 
the reader a wide field from which to choose what he 
 would read. Probably some of this should have been 
 left out, but I drew my bow at a venture ; some arrows 
 may hit the mark. 
 
 I have come to believe, God has a program prepared 
 for every one of His children. Knowing the end from 
 the beginning, He has made provision for every con- 
 tingency that can possibly arise. He doesn't force 
 any one to drop into the path and walk it, He inclines 
 them by His spirit to choose the path. If it seems pre- 
 sumptuous for me to assume, that He marked out my 
 pathway, remember, I am not at the beginning, but 
 nearing the end of the way. I am not guessing at the 
 course of a life that may be lived, but I am stating 
 facts about a life that has been lived. 
 
 I make no boast, but firmly and humbly believe, I 
 have the same experience God's servant had when he 
 wrote : "And I told them of the Hand of my God, 
 which was good to me." We have greater assurance 
 of the Guiding Hand than did Nehemiah. 
 
 This view of the matter, has been my inspiration, 
 while performing the task and, now that it is about 
 accomplished, it affords me a world of comfort. That 
 He should have taken a sinful, weak and careless crea- 
 ture like me, fills me with deep humility, thanksgiving 
 and praise. If I were of a gushing sort, I could shout, 
 as I write these words. 
 
 "Finally Brethren ;" I thank God for letting me live 
 so long in the beautiful world He has provided for the 
 children of men ; especially, do I thank him for letting 
 me do a little something for His name's sake, and for 
 the multitude of friends He has raised up for me as I 
 was making the journey. 
 
 W. B. CRUMPTON. 
 Montgomery, Ala., Jan. 1, 1921. 
 
 (xi) 
 
AN APPRECIATION 
 
 At the very brink of four-score years, the writer 
 passes on to us, glimpses of his own life and sketches 
 of people he has known. His life has been a busy, 
 fruitful one, and his years of successful work in Ala- 
 bama are living testimonials of personal force and 
 magnetism. All up and down the State he has gone, 
 neither fearing the winter's cold nor summer's heat, 
 and well has he earned his place in the hearts of the 
 people — "Best known and best beloved." A life given 
 unreservedly to the work, whereunto he was called. 
 
 From pioneer work, he has lived to see Alabama 
 taking active part in the great Seventy-Five Million 
 Campaign. From a small office in the corner of his 
 yard in Marion, he sees a nice roomy building, which 
 now houses the State Board of Missions, the W. M. U. 
 work, the Sunday School, the B. Y. P. U. and the Col- 
 portage Departments. 
 
 Fie has seen the time when there is no legal sale of 
 liquor in the whole of our beautiful U. S. A., and is the 
 President of the Anti-Saloon League of Alabama, 
 which figured largely in bringing about the glorious 
 result. 
 
 All these things crowded into one life-time, has en- 
 abled him to write this book. It will be largely read 
 and treasured by his friends, who are legion. 
 
 The words above are to the readers, and these are to 
 the writer : "You have been an inspiration and help to 
 all who have known you. I am indebted to you for an 
 enlarged appreciation of life and its manifold duties 
 and privileges and if, upon my return to the work in 
 China, this has to be goodbye, it is in the loving hope 
 of a joyful meeting in the gladness of our dear Lord 
 and Savior." 
 
 WILLIE H. KELLY. 
 Shanghai, China. 
 
 (xii) 
 
Part One 
 
 PERIOD OF BOYHOOD TO 
 EIGHTEEN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 My Parents, I Introduce First. 
 
 I can best do this, by skipping over a period of forty 
 years and relating an incident. At that time, my wife 
 presented me with a fine pair of boys. The church mem- 
 bers came from far and near to see the pastor's twins. 
 An old sister said, "Brother Crumpton, tell us the 
 names of the boys." In reply, I said, *'My wife left 
 the naming to me, so I decided one should bear my 
 own, the other my father's initials." Putting my hand 
 on the smaller, I said, "This is W. B. Crumpton, Ju- 
 nior. I never cared for Washington in my name, fact 
 is, I always despised it. Never was fond of anybody 
 by that name. The boys called me 'Wash' and 'Wash' 
 it will be to the end. So *W' will be the first initial for 
 this boy, and we shall decide later what the full name 
 will be. The middle name is Bryant, for my mother." 
 
 My oldest sister, hearing, said : "Did you think your 
 mother was named Bryant? Leave off the *t.' " I re- 
 plied, "Certainly ; I lived, when a boy, with Uncle 
 Dickie Bryant, and one of our cousins was Bryant Mc- 
 Tnnis." The reply was, "But I lived, when but a child, 
 
2 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 with grandfather Bryan, and have old books with his 
 name written in them." Whereupon I said in surprise, 
 "Is it possible I am forty years old and don't know 
 my mother's or my own name?" 
 
 After they had laughed a bit, the suggestion was 
 made that maybe I was just as badly off on my fath- 
 ther's name. Quite confidently, I replied, "I know I am 
 right on the other; his name is Henry Tyler." Then 
 old sister raised both hands with, "Where on earth 
 did you get the information that your father was 
 named Tyler? His name was Tally, for a family of 
 kinspeople." Then, I said, 'T am forty years old and 
 didn't know my own, my father's nor my mother's 
 name." 
 
 This ignorance can be accounted for by my being 
 the youngest of the family. The home was broken up, 
 when I was quite young and I was cut adrift. 
 
 My father was one of a family of Cnimptons of 
 English descent. I remember his brother John, who 
 lived in Dallas County, a Baptist preacher, who before 
 was a minister among the Methodists. He was the 
 father of B. H. Crumpton. Another brother, WilHam, 
 moved from Lowndes County to Mississippi when I 
 was a small boy. They all came from South Carolina. 
 
 Reverend A. C. Ramsey, a Methodist minister, of 
 Oak Hill, in an obituary published in the Camden pa- 
 per about my mother, Matilda Smith Bryan, said, "She 
 was the daughter of Reverend Richard Bryan, Colle- 
 ton District, Edisto Circuit. He was a soldier in the 
 Revolutionary War, and afterwards an efficient min- 
 ister of the Gospel in the M. E. Church, an account of 
 whose life and labors, both as a soldier in the battles 
 of his country, and as a soldier of Jesus Christ, is given 
 by Bishop Andrew, in the tenth volume of the Metho- 
 dist Magazine for 1827." 
 
 His son, "Uncle Dick" Bryan, a Methodist Class 
 Leader, I lived with when a boy attending school at 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 3 
 
 Pleasant Hill in Dallas County. Aunt Miranda, a sis- 
 ter of my mother, was the wife of John Oliver, an Ir- 
 ishman, a successful farmer. When a boy I lived with 
 them a few months, going to school at Farmersville, 
 three and a half miles away, after the crops were "laid 
 by." The distance was impressed on my mind, as I 
 usually had to walk. 
 
 My mother's name would indicate she was descend- 
 ed from the Irish, so that I come from English-Irish 
 stock. That ought to be pretty good blood. 
 
 My father's people were slave-holders and educated, 
 my mother's owned a few slaves, but were not 
 given much to books. Uncle Dick and his family were 
 great workers. Aunt Nancy had her loom in the kitch- 
 en, where she wove the clothes for the family, and the 
 rag carpets for the dwelling. Uncle Dick owned one 
 horse and made a good living on his little farm. When 
 he married, he owned a few slaves, but I judge he was 
 so kind and indulgent, he found it didn't pay — any- 
 way, he owned none when I knew him. 
 
 The frugality of the family was shown in this : It 
 was a mile and a half to church, every body walked. 
 When within a half mile of the church, the female 
 part of the family would file out into the woods, pull 
 off their every-day shoes and put on their Sundays. 
 On returning, they would make the exchange, and go 
 home. I doubt if they ever were in debt — just such 
 shifts as I have named, kept the family going, with 
 heads up. Uncle Dick was noted for his jollity, and 
 also eminent for his piety and for his devotion to his 
 church. 
 
 The Names of My Father's Children: 
 
 Those born in Walterboro, Colleton District, South 
 Carolina : Mary, Richard Alexander, Miranda Ann, 
 Henry Thomas, Hezekiah John and William Zacharia. 
 
4 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Born in Alabama : James Henderson, Martha Ma- 
 tilda, Jane Eliza and Washington Bryan — this "un- 
 worthy dust," who is trying to get together some 
 facts about his people. 
 
 My father was a cripple from childhood, but that 
 did not keep him from work. Fie often said to me, "I 
 love to work" — the truth of that statement I doubted. 
 I thought it was used only to boost me with the idea 
 that there was something good in work, which I never 
 had discovered. 
 
 In his early days, he was a merchant, running two 
 stores, one in Charleston, the other in Walterboro. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 Their First Settlement 
 
 Their first home was in Dallas near Pleasant 
 Hill. Later Cahaba became the home of the 
 family, where father did well in business for a 
 time. At the steam-boat landing, a bale of cot- 
 ton crushed the life out of brother Henry. The 
 shock to my mother was so great, it was deemed best 
 for her that a change be made ; so a home was found, 
 for a little while, near Farmersville, in Lowndes Coun- 
 ty. Later, land was purchased in Wilcox, near the 
 junction of Grinding Stone and Bear Creeks. The fam- 
 ily was soon doing well on the farm, the fast growing 
 boys were making a good Hving; but I suspect it 
 was then as now, a family once in town for a time, 
 is never satisfied in the country ; so the lands fell into 
 the hands of the Maxwells, and the Crumptons moved 
 to Barbourville, the County Seat, soon after called 
 Camden. This was probably in the Thirties. I do not 
 remember whether my advent into the world caused 
 much of a sensation or not. I suppose the matter of 
 babies was becoming rather monotonous in the fam- 
 ily, as I was the tenth. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 5 
 
 My first recollection of my father, he was running 
 a hotel, with a ginger-cake shop on the corner. 
 
 There is a Nursery that advertises a peach or apple, 
 the name of which is : "None Such." My mother's 
 ginger cakes were worthy of that name. I have eat- 
 en ginger bread in many lands, but the like of her 
 cakes I never found elsewhere. 
 
 My school-days at Camden were a disappointment 
 to my parents. My first teacher was a cruel tyrant. 
 The rod was an instrument of torture which he took 
 delight in using. 
 
 To diagnose the boy, I hardly know how. I was ex- 
 tremely timid, bordering dangerously on to cowardice. 
 I had a keen sense for the ridiculous, which made me 
 mischievous and overflowing with fun. I was content- 
 ed and satisfied. In a large school, with no one to 
 coach me, and under a tyrannical teacher, I became 
 cowed. 
 
 Fighting among the boys was a manly sport. It 
 was a dull day, if some fights were not pulled oft' at 
 playtime. I was no fighter, had no inclination that 
 way, though at home, I was more than once told, I was 
 too soon angry. I was the victim of pugnacious boys 
 at school. On one occasion, 
 
 I surprised one bully, Syd Sellers, who was 
 always picking on me and I had never resent- 
 ed it. He had several brothers in school, and I 
 none ; but one day my grown brother started to 
 school, much to my delight. My persecutor jumped on 
 me when my brother was near. To the astonishment 
 of the whole school, I "wooled" him good. 
 
 Because I had whipped the day before, I felt that I 
 could tackle most any boy on the ground. One of the 
 most studious and gentlemanly boys on the 
 ground, was Rich Jones. He was my senior, 
 in none of my classes — in fact, he knew nothing about 
 me. Some demoniacal notion possessed me that I'd 
 
6 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 whip him. He had done nothing to me — much of the 
 fighting in those days was only to test one's man- 
 hood, no need to be mad, but a Hck was a challenge, — 
 so, I marched up on the ground and delivered the blow. 
 Such a drubbing as I got, satisfied me for the balance 
 of my life. 
 
 Long after. Rich Jones, a great lawyer, was my 
 friend and brother, a deacon of my church at Camden, 
 later President of the University of Alabama. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 The cruelty of slavery is well illustrated by 
 my childish thoughts. Around the Court House 
 was a fence and steps were used instead of 
 gates. At the top of the steps was a plat- 
 form, and on this platform the auctioneer would stand 
 when property was sold to the highest bidder. Negroes 
 were sold in the same v/ay ; sometimes singly, some- 
 times by families. I saw children separated from pa- 
 rents, and wives from husbands. Their grief on such 
 occasions touched my childish heart. I often won- 
 dered if things like that w^as not the occasion of the 
 writing of the song, beginning: 
 
 *'0h, my darling Nellie Gray, 
 
 Up in Heaven, so they say 
 
 They will never take you from me any more." 
 Negroes have their griefs, just as genuine as any; 
 this, many fail to consider. 
 
 My father owned no slaves during my time, but we 
 usually hired a negro man to help about the place and 
 a girl to aid my mother about the kitchen. 
 
 A runaway negro named Haywood belonging 
 to Colonel Bridges, ran away. It was a long 
 time before he was caught. It was the talk 
 of everybody. Packs of hounds scoured the 
 woods, but it was not easy to locate him. When 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 7 
 
 he was run down, he mowed down the dogs with a 
 scythe blade, which he had stolen, and turned into a 
 weapon of defense. To kill *'a nigger dog" was almost 
 unpardonable. I heard them talking of his punishment 
 for the offense, should he be captured. My childish 
 sympathy was always with the "runaway." 
 
 Of course, some masters treated their slaves hu- 
 manely, but there were very many who were cruel 
 to them, and often good masters entrusted them to 
 cruel overseers who had no mercy on them. 
 
 Uncle Jimmie Andrews at Allenton, when old and 
 blind, told me a story after the Civil War, 
 which illustrates the affection of the slaves for 
 many masters. "Brother Wash," he said, "you re- 
 member where my quarter was on my plantation, near 
 where the station is now — well, when news came that 
 the niggers were free, I rode down and called them 
 all together. I said, "You all are free, as free now as I 
 am, to go where you please and to do as you please. 
 I have no more control over you." You just ought 
 to have heard the cry that went up from them. They 
 said, 'Marster, youse alus bin good to us. We don't 
 know whar to go, we don't want to go no whar. We 
 wants to stay right here wid you and work like we alus 
 done." Brother Wash, I was crying too. So, I told 
 them to come up here, and I'd see what I could do. 
 Next day, right out there they stood, men, women and 
 children. When I told them to go back home and I 
 would arrange to keep them, they cried again and so 
 did I, but they were crying for joy — yes, shouting 
 happy. Now here is the sad part of it. 
 
 Them niggers actually ate up my plantation. I flat- 
 tered myself, that my niggers were so happy to 
 stay with me, when so many of my neighbors lost 
 every one. I went to renting and advancing for them, 
 and lost every foot of ground I had, and now in my 
 old age and blind, I have only this house and lot." 
 
8 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Kind and indulgent, when they were slaves, his in- 
 dulgence was his financial ruin when they were free. 
 Thousands of others could tell the same story. 
 
 There was an old "free nigger" living near Camden. 
 I do not know the circumstances that led to his being 
 made free. He had a little farm of his own. He was 
 a very devout man, I suppose, from the incident I am 
 about to relate. In the midst of a great drouth, I hap- 
 pened to be in Daniel Bloch's store, when he came in 
 to make some purchases. Probably he was from the 
 low country in South Carolina, and retained the 
 brogue of the native Africans, and I was attracted by 
 that, besides he was the "onliest free nigger" and I was 
 curious to see and hear him. A company of men, 
 about town, were in the store and challenged the old 
 man to pray for rain. He promptly accepted and 
 kneeling down poured out an earnest appeal to God, 
 such as I have never heard. I watched his face, and 
 it was photographed in my mind never to be forgot- 
 ten. I remember well the faces of the men too. At 
 first they were laughing, but the smiles faded and 
 they became serious and awe-struck as the old man 
 pleaded with God to send relief to the suffering coun- 
 try. My recollection is they made up a purse and 
 presented it to him, then went out. I remained to 
 watch the old man while he made his purchases. I do 
 not know how long, but I was startled by some one 
 crying, "Look at the rain." With that, I jumped out 
 of the store and ran home getting wringing wet. 
 
 I know that the word of God gives abundant reason 
 for the faith that was put into my boyish heart when 
 I was less than ten. Rain is included in the "Whatso- 
 evers" that God would have us ask for in making 
 known our desires. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 9 
 
 CHAPTER 4. 
 
 I do not know how early a child may receive re- 
 ligious impressions tliat means its salvation. This 
 incident, when I w^as only three or four years of age. 
 I was sleeping beside my mother, and was awakened 
 by a fierce thunder storm. The earth trembled 
 and the lightning was a continued sheet of flame. 
 I was awfully frightened and screamed with 
 alarm. My mother soothed me by telling me, God was 
 good, that he controlled the storms, that he cares for 
 those that trust him. I fell asleep in the midst of the 
 storm, and the distinct impression of God's over-ruling 
 mercy was left with me, never to be forgotten for a 
 moment, to this day. I do not claim that I was made 
 a Christian then, my extreme early age and my sub- 
 sequent life, are both against it, but a lasting impres- 
 sion was made which made it easier to become a 
 Christian and lead a consistent life. Some other inci- 
 dents are told in a letter to the Camden paper on the 
 occasion of tearing down the old, to give place to the 
 new Methodist church. 
 
 "The picture in your paper of the Methodist Church 
 awakens memories of my childhood. The Henry 
 Crumpton, named as one of the trustees, was my fa- 
 ther. I was two years old when the house was built. 
 
 The first Sunday School I attended was there; I 
 remember well the first question and how proud I 
 was to answer. "Who made you?" was the question: 
 the answer : "God." I guess I had been coached thor- 
 oughly before I went. If I was christened, it was in 
 that house. However, I am led to doubt it, because my 
 father had imbibed Baptist notions. He married in 
 South Carolina, the daughter of a Methodist preacher. 
 She died a Methodist, at Pine Apple, Parson Ramsey of 
 Oak Hill preaching her funeral. 
 
10 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 The first Baptist preacher I ever heard was Kee- 
 der Hawthorne, who lived near Camden, the father 
 of that great Baptist preacher, J. Boardman Haw- 
 throne. He had an afternoon appointment in the 
 old town hall. I went with my father. We sat on a 
 front seat. Brother Hawthorne, when he approached 
 the close of the sermon, put on the 'rousements,' clos- 
 ing each sentence with, **and ar-ah." He had a way, in 
 his excitement, of spitting on the floor and wiping it 
 up with his foot. Many times his foot went through 
 the motion, not hitting the spittle. I was first alarmed 
 at his antics, afterwards uncontrollably amused. 
 
 I remember well the outbreak of the Mexican War 
 when two of my brothers, Richard and William, went 
 with Colonel, or Captain Irby. To my mind, he was 
 the handsomest man alive. I can see him now with 
 feathers in his hat, as he rode a fine charger, and the 
 crowds standing in the street before the Court House. 
 
 When I was nine years old we moved to Washington 
 on the Alabama river, ten miles below Montgomery. 
 Dan'l Pratt had a cotton factory at Prattville, and my 
 father undertook to peddle "spun truck", as the fac- 
 tory thread was called, and at the same time, he work- 
 ed a little farm near the village. 
 
 Here my mother and I had typhoid fever, and came 
 near dying. Under the old practice, no water was 
 allowed a fever patient. My father often told me, 
 how for three weeks of delirium, I called for water. 
 When cold above the knees and my eyes seemed set in 
 death, the doctor gave me up to die. My father was 
 a sort of botanic doctor, who believed that the true 
 motto was "Help nature, to relieve herself." He said, 
 "Well Doctor, if he is going to die, I am going to give 
 him some water." "That will be the quickest way to 
 get him out of his misery," was the Doctor's reply 
 The water was given, and at once improvement set in, 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 11 
 
 which continued to complete recovery without a doc- 
 tor or any more medicine. 
 
 My first lesson about the horrors of the liquor traffic, 
 
 I got here in old Washington. Two barrels of liquor, 
 just from the landing, were rolled from a wagon to 
 the stoop in front of the store. The most prominent 
 citizen of the place, Jessie Cox, whose brother Bill was 
 a drunkard, picked up an ax and burst in the heads of 
 the barrels, and paid the merchant for the liquor on 
 the spot. It would keep his brother sober for several 
 weeks, as it would take a long time to get more from 
 Mobile. I seemed to fully enter into the feelings of 
 that man for his brother. I have never gotten away 
 from that feeling, but time has added intensity to it. 
 
 Seventy years later, I am ten miles away from old 
 Washington, a resident of the Capital City, and am 
 happy to say, there is not a legalized saloon in the State 
 or Nation, as Prohibition went into the National Con- 
 stitution January 16, 1920. 
 
 Two incidents linger with me about Washington ; 
 one a trip to Montgomery when my father took me to 
 the Capitol, and 
 
 Introduced Me to Governor Collier. 
 
 The other was the building of the plank road from 
 Prattville, four miles away to Washington landing. 
 The making of a railroad was never talked about 
 more than the building of that plank road. A disap- 
 pointment of my life was that my father moved away 
 to Pine Apple before the road was completed. Of 
 course, in a few years, the planks were worn out and 
 the road went to the bad. Now, a splendid gravel road 
 is there, where once was the deep sand and afterwards 
 the expensive plank road. 
 
 My father kept the first store in Pine Apple, in the 
 shed room of his residence. My recollection is, 
 the place was named from a remark by a Yankee 
 
12 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 passing through, who said the pine burs looked much 
 Hke pineapples. Parker's wheelwright and HoUoway's 
 blacksmith shops were the business houses of the place. 
 A little later two wealthy men built handsome resi- 
 dences there, Gus Powell and J. R. Hawthorn, the lat- 
 ter moving from Conecuh County, bringing a 
 hundred slaves. He was a great business man, a de- 
 voted member of the Baptist church, and a leader in 
 the community. A store house was built, which my 
 father rented and moved into with his little stock of 
 goods. Doctor Adams built an office, an Academy was 
 soon erected and a boom started. A fine old town is 
 there now. 
 
 My father believed a boy could be stopped any time 
 out of school and make up all the lost time. I was 
 stopped to go to mill, or do anything else — a half or 
 whole day, as the need required. This, with my un- 
 fortunate start at Camden, contributed to my dislike 
 of books and final loss of ambition to excel in my stu- 
 dies. 
 
 I told him in after years, he impressed two 
 things upon me to the advantage of my children ; that 
 much whipping was not needed and that children must 
 be kept to their books, once they entered school. His 
 answer was, he was glad his mistake had so impressed 
 me. 
 
 A Colporter wagon came to Pine Apple from some- 
 where. My mother bought me a Bible, with the hymn 
 pasted in the back of it : 
 
 "Holy Bible, Book Divine, 
 Precious treasure thou are mine ; 
 Mine to tell me whence I came ; 
 Mine to tell me what I am." 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 13 
 
 This was the first song I remember to have sung. 
 Finding that I could sing alone, I often sat by the pine- 
 knot fire and sang the long hymns in the Methodist 
 hymn book. Another book she bought me: "Pippies 
 Warning." It was the story of a beautiful, badly 
 spoiled, ill tempered dog. I became intensely inter- 
 ested in it, but discovering the family amused at my 
 interest in the book, I suspected its purchase was in- 
 tended as a rebuke to my bad temper, so I threw 
 it aside and read it only on the sly. It was a great 
 book for me at that time. Probably the first I ever 
 read. 
 
 The colporter with his wagon load of books and 
 two horses, w^as impressed on my mind. Through the 
 years of my work as Secretary of the Mission Board 
 I have ardently fostered the colportage work and 
 cherished the hope that some day the Baptists would 
 have one or more wagons traveling the State. That 
 wish has been more than realized in the Auto-wagon 
 with : "Baptist Colportage" on each door and Bunyan 
 Davie, the consecrated layman, as Colporter. Who 
 can tell what will come from the vision of a boy, or 
 the value of books put in his hands? 
 
 CHAPTER 5. 
 
 My brother William, the Tax Assessor of the county, 
 a young man with bright prospects ahead of him, died 
 of tuberculosis. He was a devout Christian and com- 
 mended to the family: Matt. 5:6 and 7 for their com- 
 fort. That, and the 9th chapter of John are the first 
 passages I remember reading. Only a few weeks 
 after my brother's death, my Mother followed; her 
 death, probably hastened by waiting on her son. "A 
 boy*s best friend is his mother," so runs the song. I 
 realized it all after she was gone. My father soon 
 broke up the home and I became a wanderer. 
 
14 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 A strange thing to me is: how a boy thirteen years 
 of age, who loved his mother tenderly, and on whom 
 she lavished her affection, can recall so little of that 
 mother. It has been the grief of my life, and a mys- 
 tery I cannot solve. 
 
 She was a cheerful, industrious woman, often doing 
 her own cooking and some times the washing, for the 
 family. Her favorite song seemed to be : 
 
 "O sing to me of Heaven, 
 When I am called to die ; 
 Sing songs of holy ecstacy. 
 To waft my soul on high." 
 
 Friendship meeting house was a mile away from the 
 village, a bare, old barn of a house, unceiled and with- 
 out a window light. I guess my father's was the only 
 Methodist family in the community. In his early 
 years, he became dissatisfied with his baptism and de- 
 manded of the Methodist pastor to immerse him. He 
 was put off with one excuse or another until he grew 
 indifferent about it. After my mother's death, he, with 
 all the children became members of old Friendship. 
 
 A first cousin, Bryan Mclnnis, a bachelor, living in 
 Pleasant Hill, took a fancy to me and proposed to ed- 
 ucate me. I hardly think my father knew he was a 
 gambler, owning a bar-room, ten-pin alley, and bil- 
 liard saloon, or he would not have agreed to the prop- 
 osition. Possibly he did know it, but as the plan was 
 to board me with Uncle Dick Bryan, a mile and a half 
 in the country, he thought I would be safe. On Sat- 
 urdays I loafed about town, of course, about my bene- 
 factor's premises. I learned to roll the balls and to 
 play billiards. 
 
 He had a tailor to make me a broadcloth suit — the 
 first fine suit I ever owned. ''Honest Injun !" I hated 
 that suit. It didn't make me proud at all ; on the con- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. IS 
 
 trary, it humbled me. I hated for Sunday to come. 
 Between that suit and its poor owner, there was a 
 great gulf fixed. 
 
 At Uncle Dick's we ate breakfast by czundle light 
 
 generally, and I marched off to school before sunrise. 
 It was the joke of the town how "Wash waked every- 
 body in town in the early morning, singing on his way 
 to school." 
 
 Later my father bought a home at Pine Apple, and 
 wanted me to look after a little store in the front 
 yard. He was always tinkering with trading of one 
 sort or another. After his early experiences in South 
 Carolina, he never got over the idea of merchandising. 
 The stock of goods, I had to mind, consisted mostly 
 of "spun truck," and a few things, probably a two 
 horse wagon could have moved them all at one load. 
 If customers didn't come in pretty fast, after my fa- 
 ther went away on one of his trips, I would turn the 
 key over to a good woman, with whom I boarded and 
 go away to plow for some of the farmers. I had a 
 passion for plowing and farm life, and I have never 
 lost it to this day. My father never chided me for 
 deserting the store, when he learned I had been away 
 at work. He seemed proud that I had developed a love 
 for work — a thing he never expected in earlier days. 
 
 One of the hardest workers in the country hired me 
 for four months, beginning with January, paying me 
 $10.00 a month. Jim Beard was the name, he had a 
 nice family, and owned a few slaves. We ate break- 
 fast by candle light, and long after dark, supper was 
 served. A pot of peas was cooked for dinner, and we 
 had them cold for supper, and if any were left over, 
 we had them fixed for breakfast. As Spring opened, 
 turnip salad took the place of peas — fortunately, I 
 loved peas and "greens." I never went visiting Satur- 
 day nights, for I knew we would have biscuits Sunday 
 morning, and the neighbors might not have them. 
 
16 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 This is no reflection on that family, for this custom 
 was universal among the average families. My peo- 
 ple, moving from tow^n, where we kept a hotel, had 
 biscuits every morning, so it was hard for the boy to 
 change. 
 
 I never tired plowing, but hoeing would get my 
 wind in a little while. When it was too wet to plow, 
 old Jim had a way of putting everybody to the hoe 
 and he would lead. Very soon I would be about to 
 collapse with fatigue. The old man was a Hardshell, 
 and had rented land to a Hardshell preacher, named 
 Smith. In the settlement they had fallen out and there 
 was nothing too mean for Beard to say about Smith. 
 He needed only to be touched ofif, to stop work a 
 while to discourse on Smith, so when I was about 
 fagged out at hoeing, I'd say, "Mr. Beard, what about 
 Smith? So and So." 
 
 Thereupon, to the ground went his hoe — for a time, 
 leaning on the handle he raved about Smith. Of 
 course I was all attention until I was rested. I saved 
 other things I'd heard about Smith, and I suspect, some 
 I hadn't heard, until I again got in a tight place. 
 
 The old man was too stingy to have a log-rolling. 
 That would have required a dinner for maybe fifty 
 hands, a jug of liquor and a bigger supper, when the 
 women and girls from the quilting would join the 
 boys in a great frolic at night. In that way I missed 
 the log-rollings, but I was on hand at night. There 
 was no dancing, but plays galore. Blindfold, Thimble 
 and Go-Round plays are all I remember now. 
 
 Probably those months with Beard were the hard- 
 est four months of my hfe — that and my army ex- 
 perience, was the best schooling I ever got. 
 
 My sister, Martha, had married John D. Hardy, a 
 famous cotton planter in Lowndes County, and I went 
 there, not to oversee, but to lead twelve or fifteen 
 plows. Like old man Jimimie, he rousted me out at 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 17 
 
 four in the morning, but wholly unlike him, we had 
 breakfast sent to us in the field, sometimes as late as 
 nfne o'clock. I would almost starve before it came. I 
 registered a vow that if I ever had a home, everybody 
 would eat before they began the day's work, a rule 
 strictly adhered to in my farm life. 
 
 In 1849, my brother, Hezekiah, started to California. 
 An extended account he gives of himself in the "Ad- 
 ventures of Two Alabama Boys." 
 
 He was a son and brother right. After brother 
 William died, one of the main supports of the family 
 was knocked out. Probably he and Kiah had helped in 
 the education of my sister — Martha, graduated at the 
 Baptist College in Tuskegee. The burden now fell on 
 the far-away brother in California. Time and again 
 he came to the rescue, with a draft when dear old crip- 
 pled father was in a tight place. 
 
 He became interested in me. I was taken from the 
 farm, and put in school at Pleasant Hill. Major Hol- 
 loway, a Northern man, was the teacher. He was 
 a teacher right too. Probably the first teacher in that 
 town in whom, the boys found more than a match. He 
 had a way of requiring Saturday work to make up de- 
 ficiencies. Consternation reigned when it was an- 
 nounced, but after he had taken a good sized boy or 
 two across his lap, in the presence of the whole 
 school, and wore out a half dozen keen hickories on 
 them, the high brows, who had been ruling the roost, 
 took notice and got down to business. I doubt if any 
 school ever taught in Alabama did better work than 
 Holloway's. Sons of rich people indulged at home, set 
 in to study and many of them would have become 
 great men but for the Civil War, which broke up the 
 school. The teacher raised a cavalry company, many 
 of his own students, joining it. The Company became 
 famous as the Body Guard of Bragg, Joseph E. John- 
 son and Hood. 
 
18 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 How fortune changes is illustrated in the fol- 
 lowing incident : Berry Vasser was reputed to 
 be one of the richest men in Dallas County. 
 His boys rode horseback to Pleasant Hill school, 
 the girls and small children came in a Rock- 
 away, driven by Reeson Lanford, the overseer's son. 
 He seemed to be a fine boy, good natured and kind, 
 but dull at books. He fell across Major Holloway's 
 lap many a day. It looked Hke he could never learn" 
 and the Major had no mercy on him — fact was, the boy 
 was scared in the teacher's presence. 
 
 After the Civil War, Reeson Lanford, by trading, 
 became one of the richest men in county, married the 
 beautiful and only child of Major HoUoAvay, and fur- 
 nished a good home to the old couple as long as they 
 lived. 
 
 Pleasant Hill, in the time of which I speak, was a 
 center of refinement, culture and wealth. Its name cer- 
 tainly expressed the feelings of every one who visit- 
 ed it in those days : 
 
 Goin' to meetin*, as they said in the backwoods about 
 Pine Apple, was a great thing in the Summer. Once a 
 month, on "our reg'lar day, Saturday before the fourth 
 Sunday," especially on Sunday, great crowds turned 
 out, from miles around — an army of men and women 
 on horseback and a few from a distance in buggies and 
 carriages. Sometimes besides the negro driver, there 
 would be a nurse for the baby and a maid. "The pro- 
 tracted meeting at our reg'lar time," in July or Au- 
 gust, was probably the greatest event of the year in 
 every community. 
 
 The pastor was aided by such neighboring 
 preachers as happened to drop in. "When will 
 they preach you?" was sometimes asked of a vis- 
 iting brother. After "trying them all out," as we say 
 now, the concensus of opinion would pick the winner, 
 and he would be used for the most part, till the end. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 19 
 
 Leaving out the women riding horseback, this descrip- 
 tion fits Pleasant Hill and all the wealthy communities. 
 At such a meeting in Old Friendship I be- 
 came a member. It was in 1855, after my 
 mother's death. Early conversions were not expected 
 in those days. I doubt not, many of the women 
 friends of my mother, when they saw me timidly give 
 my hand to Bro. McWilliams. indicating my desire for 
 church membership, said : "The poor boy needs his 
 mother now, he don't know what he is doing," and 
 they were not far wrong, but I trust the Lord was 
 leading me. The light was very dim, I knew but lit- 
 tle about the Bible. Children very much younger now, 
 know more about the Blessed Book than did L 
 
 CHAPTER 6. 
 
 I have come to believe, the disposition of the indi- 
 vidual has much to do with one's Christian Experience. 
 My cousin, B. H. Crumpton, with a sanguine disposi- 
 tion, always carried away with sights and sounds, re- 
 veling in the beauties of a glorious sunset, or awed 
 with the billowy clouds of a thunder storm, had a very 
 bright experience of grace. He could tell the day and 
 hour and the overwhelming delight of that hour. But 
 I, a matter-of-fact sort of boy, seldom, if ever excited, 
 could not say just when or where I was saved. At nu- 
 merous times and places, I was made to rejoice and 
 can sing from my heart : 
 
 "How sweet is the love of my Savior ! 
 'Tis boundless and deep as the sea; 
 And best of it all, it is daily 
 Growing sweeter and sweeter to me." 
 
 Most heartily do I believe in Protracted Meetings 
 and in an Experience of Grace, but I have long ceased 
 to expect an extended and connected story from those 
 
20 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 seeking membership in the churches. "Do you accept 
 Jesus Christ as your personal Savior, and are you in 
 love with His people and desirous to follow Him in 
 Baptism?" seems to me, the only confession the Scrip- 
 ture requires. The process by which they were led to 
 this confession, would be interesting, but is not at all 
 necessary. Some one may ask, "Did you hold out?" 
 No. Without a mother, no pastor or teacher to guide 
 me; without a home, going from post to pillar, subject 
 to all sorts of temptations, how could I be devout? Af- 
 ter my first Communion, an intelligent boy, older than 
 myself, made me believe I had almost committed the 
 unpardonable sin by "eating and drinking unworthily." 
 Sometimes I longed to ask older members questions, 
 but they didn't encourage me, and I was too timid to 
 ask. Companionship with a young man, several years 
 my senior — an ignorant, vulgar wretch, came near 
 wrecking me. In my heart I despised him, but was 
 so situated I could not shake him off. 
 
 My first vision of the outside world came from read- 
 ing the Cincinnati Enquirer. I do not know how it 
 came about that I subscribed for it, but it was when 
 I was looking after my father's little store. I remem- 
 ber I was impressed with the awful conditions in Ohio 
 and Kentucky, where so many dreadful murders were 
 committed. People came to the store to read my paper 
 and all of us agreed that ours was the best State in the 
 Union, because we never read of any such crimes in 
 Alabama. Worse things might be taking place in 
 adjoining counties, but we never heard of them. I am 
 now called a "newspaper fiend," and I plead guilty to 
 the charge. I suspect that the early reading of the En- 
 quirer is responsible for the newspaper habit. 
 
 This brings me to the close of the period: My 
 Boyhood to 18. My path was chequered, a prelude to 
 a very long, chequered career. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 21 
 
 The world has been good to me, and above all, I am 
 assured the Lord led me from the beginning. Only I 
 was responsible for much in my life, of which I am 
 ashamed, but He it was, who like a tender mother, with 
 her wayward boy, wiped away the tears, in- 
 planted a kiss of forgiveness and sent him on his way 
 rejoicing. 
 
 The Talk of War. 
 
 While I attended school at Pleasant Hill under 
 Major Holloway, the talk of war began to run high. 
 In these days of newspapers every boy is supposed to 
 know something of what is going on — not so with me. 
 I don't remember to have had a newspaper in my 
 hand, after I left my father's little store. I doubt not the 
 speakers were about, talking of the war that seemed 
 imminent, but I never heard any of them. In con- 
 versation, I heard the Abolitionists talked about and 
 denounced. I heard of the John Brown raid in Vir- 
 ginia. Finally the flame had been so fanned that prep- 
 arations began to be made for war. Captain S. W. 
 Catts, a merchant, a Virginian, seemed to have been 
 the only military man. Maybe he had been to West 
 Point. Whether a regular company was organized 
 or not, I cannot say, but a movement in that direc- 
 tion was made. With other boys, and men, I 
 drilled in a Cavalry Company several times before I 
 started to California — I suppose this formed the nu- 
 cleus of the Company, afterwards commanded by Ma- 
 jor Holloway of which I have spoken. 
 
Part Two 
 PERIOD OF TRAVEL 
 
 TO CALIFORNIA AND RETURN. 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 How I Began to Lecture. 
 
 This is about the way I tell it : 
 
 The story I am to tell relates my own personal ad- 
 ventures, which I often told around the fire-side, with 
 no dream of its ever assuming the shape of a lecture. 
 
 My old friend. Col. J. T. Murfee, President of How- 
 ard College, insisted that I should turn it into a lec- 
 ture. My reply was : "Some day, when I have time, 
 I may sit down and write it out, dressing it up, weav- 
 ing in some poetry, and then branch out as a full 
 fledged lecturer." I suppose the leisure time never 
 would have come and probably the lecture never been 
 delivered but for a foolhardy spell that possessed me 
 on one occasion when I was in Mt. Sterling, Ky. A 
 brother said : "Our Baptist young people want you 
 to deliver a lecture. You are going to be here several 
 days. Could you not do so?" And I promptly said, 
 "Yes." The next question was : "What is the name 
 of the lecture?" I had never thought of that be- 
 fore, but I blurted out : "How a boy got through the 
 Lines to the Confederacy." "How much do you 
 charge?" That was a new question too, but I ven- 
 tured to say: "About one-half." So it was arranged 
 and a dodger was gotten out by the preacher and 
 I began lecturing. 
 
 "The Original Tramp ; or How a Boy Got Through 
 the Lines to the Confederacy," was its final name. 
 One pious old sister, suggested that the name be 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 23 
 
 changed to : "How the Lord Took Care of a Boy While 
 Going Through the Lines," and I cheerfully accept 
 the amended form. 
 
 It is not a religious lecture. The boy I tell 
 about was not working at religion much, though a 
 member of the church ; but I hope there will be dis- 
 covered the marks of an over-ruling Providenve run- 
 ning like a silver thread through all the story. I have 
 believed, for many years, the Lord had me in hand, 
 though I knew it not, preparing me for the task that 
 has been mine for many years. If some reader shall 
 come to believe in the Guiding Hand in his or her own 
 life, I shall be happy. 
 
 The lecture begins with my return from California 
 to Beloit, Wisconsin; but I have concluded to give the 
 whole narrative, beginning with my first start to Cali- 
 fornia. 
 
 A blind man sang : 
 
 "A Boy's Best Friend Is His Mother. How 
 true is that and the poor boy doesn't realize 
 it until the mother is taken from him. After she is 
 gone out of the home, the world is never again what 
 it was to him. 
 
 When my brother, an "old forty-niner," as the 
 first gold-hunters in California were called, vis- 
 ited relatives at Pleasant Hill in Dallas coun- 
 ty, Ala., he found me in school. He thought 
 that travel would be the best schooling for me. So 
 he asked me one day how I would like to go to Cali- 
 fornia. My answer in the negative amazed him. I 
 was honest about it ; I had been to Montgomery, Sel- 
 ma, Cahaba and Prattville, and had frequently seen 
 steamboats on the Alabama — had actually ridden on 
 one — I had but one desire as to travel ungratified. I 
 wanted some day to go to Mobile and then to East Mis- 
 sissippi to see my kin. I had determined to make that 
 
24 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 trip if I lived to be grown; beyond that I had no am- 
 bition to see the world. 
 
 This satisfied condition indicated to my brother that 
 I was without ambition. 
 
 This distressed him no httle. Through another 
 party he approached me next time. I was asked if I 
 would be willing to go to California to look after some 
 business for my brother ; then to return if I desired. 
 To this proposition, I readily consented. It seems lu- 
 dicrous now, to think of sending an ignorant boy on 
 such a journey, to "look after business ;" but I fell into 
 the scheme and felt my importance as never before. 
 
 My brother was wise and knew the ways of the 
 world and was kind enough to accompany me as far as 
 he could. First he took me down the Alabama to Mo- 
 bile, then sent me alone up the M. & O. (the first rail- 
 road I ever saw) to Enterprise, Miss., to visit my 
 relatives beyond there in Jasper county. I hired a 
 horse and buggy from a Mr. Edmonson and drove 
 out twenty-four miles to my brother-in-law's home. 
 Returning to Mobile, he accompanied me to Mont- 
 gomery by boat, thence by rail to Savannah, Charles- 
 ton, Wilmington, Richmond, Baltimore, Washington, 
 Philadelphia and finally to New York, two days before 
 the time for the steamer to sail. We lay over a day 
 at most of the cities mentioned to give me a chance to 
 learn some of the ways of the world. 
 
 I was a sucker, ready to bite at any bait. I doubt 
 if ever a boy started on so long a trip so green. One 
 incident will show my ignorance : 
 
 While in New York, one afternoon, I saw a great 
 commotion on the streets. Going out I saw my first 
 fire engine. The engine was of the old kind, with long 
 ropes attached, pulled by men. There the poor fel- 
 lows were toiling at the ropes and frantically appeal- 
 ing to the crowds of people who lined the sidewalks 
 to come to their aid. I had read of great fires destroy- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 25 
 
 ing U-rge cities and turning multitudes out, and I made 
 sure that just such a thing was about to happen to 
 New York. I was paralyzed at the utter indifference 
 of the people who gazed unmoved at the heroic fire- 
 men and turned a deaf ear to their appeals. I could 
 stand it no longer, so I leaped out into the street and 
 seized the rope. I was a tall, slim, awkward lad, about 
 eighteen years old, thin as a match, pale as a ghost 
 and had on a long coat. The crowd cheered, but I 
 didn't know what it was about. The firemen encour- 
 aged me, of course. "Go it, my laddie, brave boy; 
 now we'll save the town," were some of the cheering 
 remarks the firemen spoke as I tugged away with 
 all my might on the rope. "Stand up, my son," was 
 another, as I slipped on the cobble stones. The fire 
 reached, I was put in position with the others to pump 
 the machine. I knew nothing of what was going on, 
 for I was intent on trying to save the town. After 
 awhile, by the awkwardness of some fellow who held 
 the nozzle (of course, it was all accidental) the stream 
 struck me full in the breast and I was nearly drown- 
 ed. A great shout went up from the crowd, and I 
 realized that several thousand spectators, who had 
 been drawn to the fire, had their eyes centered on me. 
 I guessed afterward that the fire, which I never saw, 
 had been subdued, and they were having a little sport 
 at my expense. 
 
 I turned loose the pump as though I had been shot, 
 drew my overcoat tight about me, for it was very cold, 
 and darted through the crowd, going I knew not whi- 
 ther. 
 
 Fortunately my brother's counsel came to my aid: 
 "If you ever get lost in a city, don't try to find 
 your way back, but hail the first hack you see, and tell 
 the driver to take you to your hotel." This I did, and 
 as the carriage rumbled over the streets across several 
 blocks, I was wishing and praying that I might get 
 
26 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 to my room without being seen by my brother. He 
 was not in the lobby of the hotel, and I was congrat- 
 ulating myself, as I wearily toiled up the stairs, that I 
 had missed him, and he would never know my misfor- 
 tune ; but I was doomed to disappointment. Opening 
 the door, there he was in the room ! As I stood be- 
 fore him, bedraggled with mud and water, his eyes 
 opened wide as he took me in. "Where have you 
 been?" he exclaimed. I gasped out: "To the fire!" 
 He was not a prayer meeting man, and I will not re- 
 peat his language, as he rolled on the bed, yelling like 
 a Comanche Indian. I was utterly disgusted with him ; 
 I saw nothing to laugh about. I have never helped 
 at a fire since then, and when I hear the alarm and see 
 the engine in its mad rush, I am inclined to want to go 
 in the other direction. 
 
 Off to sea! is a beautiful thing to read about, 
 but it has a serious side. I didn't mind sepa- 
 rating with my brother so much. He had in- 
 troduced me to the captain and purser of the 
 steamer, besides these, I knew not a soul. 
 I was much interested, for the hour or two before 
 nightfall, watching the shipping. Everything was new 
 to me, but darkness came down upon us before we 
 were out of the harbor, I shall never forget the sen- 
 sation when the vessel struck the first billow of the 
 rolling ocean. As the old vessel lurched forward, and 
 her timbers began to creak, some one said: "That's 
 pretty strong for a starter." Another said : "Shouldn't 
 wonder if we didn't have a rough voyage." And yet 
 another : "It is always dangerous at sea in March." 
 For the first time I began to get alarmed. I watched 
 the swinging lamps, the supper tables that looked as 
 if they were going over and spill all the dishes ; the 
 sick passengers as they flew either to their staterooms 
 or to the upper deck. Only a little while elapsed be- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 27 
 
 fore I was in bed myself, wishing for my brother and 
 abusing myself for ever undertaking the trip. 
 
 Oh ! the desolation and loneliness of that horrid 
 night as I rolled with every motion of the vessel! I 
 never slept a wink. Next morning I looked out of 
 the port-hole and saw the mad waves of the ocean. 
 To my surprise the sun was shining; but it looked 
 to me like a storm was raging. I learned afterwards 
 that the Atlantic is always rough and that I was the 
 only one on board who w^as much alarmed. Three days 
 and nights I kept my bed from sheer fright and home- 
 sickness, I know it was not sea-sickness, for I tested 
 myself, time and time again, afterwards and never had 
 the first symptom. 
 
 I had about made up my mind that I would never 
 see the home folks again, but w^ould die in a few days 
 and be buried in the ocean. The third day the old 
 Captain came in on his rounds of inspection. When he 
 found that I was not sick, he shouted: "Pshaw, boy, 
 get out of this and be a man ; get on deck and get a 
 sniff of the salt air and you will be all right in two 
 minutes and as hungry as a wolf ! Out, out with you ; 
 be a man." In less time than it takes to write it 
 
 I was completely transformed. All my fears 
 were gone and I found the Captain's words 
 were true. As I looked at the hundreds of peo- 
 ple on the open deck, there were eight hundred pas- 
 sengers, all happy and cheerful. I felt disgraced to 
 have been such a coward. There was the boundless 
 ocean on every side. No sign of land anywhere and, 
 strange to say, I w^as not a bit afraid. The reassur- 
 ing words of the Captain had saved me. Many a poor 
 fellow has given up and gone down in the battle of life, 
 who might have been saved if some one had only 
 spoken the cheering words in time. 
 
 Down through the tropical islands to Aspinwall, 
 now called Colon, across the Isthmus of Darien, where 
 
28 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 the Panama Canal now is, on the railroad to the an- 
 cient city of Panama and up the beautiful Pacific into 
 the lovely harbor of Acapulco, Mexico, where we stop- 
 ped a day for coal, and finally through the Golden 
 Gate ; we dropped anchor in the Bay of San Fran- 
 cisco, just twenty-four days from New York, Not a 
 soul in all the great city did I know ; but I was soon 
 in the hands of the friends of my brother. I felt like 
 Mrs. Partington when she struck land after being to 
 sea, she exclaimed : "Thank the Lord for terra cotta," 
 and I promised myself never again to get on an ocean 
 steamer. 
 
 In the diggings, among the miners, I spent three 
 months, "keeping bach," with a genteel old Scotch- 
 man, in my brother's cabin on the mountain side. 
 From the little stoop in front of my cabin, I could see 
 the villages of Digger Indians, Chinese and Greasers, 
 and people from every nation of the earth. 
 
 Later I was introduced to a Bostonian, who was 
 sheriff of Placer county. 
 
 He had been told, I was looking for a job. He 
 turned his cold, grey eyes on me and said: "I 
 know old Crump — he was never afraid of work ; but 
 Southern boys generally feel themselves above it. I 
 wonder if you are that way. I want somebody to be 
 about the Court House and Jail all the time to keep 
 things cleaned up and to feed and curry my four horses. 
 Can you curry horses? Are you ashamed of it? Sup- 
 pose sometime when you were with your overalls on, 
 currying horses, a pretty girl should come along the 
 street, guess you'd run up in the loft and hide, eh ? Now, 
 for that sort of work for a boy about 3^our age, I have 
 fifty dollars a month and grub. What do you say?" 
 My ! how he did fire the questions at me and how his 
 grey eyes did snap and pierce me through ! Fifty 
 dollars a month was a big thing in my eyes. I was 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 29 
 
 a little on my mettle to show the Boston Yankee what 
 a Southern boy could do if he tried. 
 
 So I became a hostler for nine months. I 
 was used to all kinds of work on the farm, but 
 never had any occasion to become an expert 
 with the curry comb. I was privileged to belt 
 a pistol around me and guard a prisoner while he did 
 the work, if I liked ; but generally I preferred doing 
 the work myself. 
 
 For the benefit of my own boys and others who may 
 chance to read these lines, I want to record it: the 
 three months roughing it in the miner's cabin, and the 
 nine months currying Sheriff Bullock's horses, made 
 a year of most valuable training for me. I learned 
 more that twelve months than in any of my life, except 
 the years later in the Civil War. 
 
 I was always fond of the girls. I was never in any 
 place long before I was well acquainted with a num- 
 ber of the nicest in the town. Instead of running up 
 in the loft to hide when they came along, many a pleas- 
 ant chat did I have, standing before my stable door 
 with my overalls on and my sleeves rolled up to my 
 elbows. 
 
 My brother returned from the States to San Francis- 
 co and put me in school. Some of my leisure time he ex- 
 pected me to look after his business. My ignorance of 
 business methods is well illustrated by the following 
 incident: He went away, leaving a note of something 
 over three thousand dollars. It was in the hands of a 
 lawyer friend and not due. He told me he would send 
 me a draft to pay that note. 
 
 I didn't know what a draft was ; but it finally came 
 in the mail by the steamer, which came once a month. 
 
 I couid hardly sleep that night for fear somebody 
 would steal it. I felt sure something was going 
 to happen to me before I got the note paid. I had 
 read of hold-ups at night, and even in day time, parties 
 
30 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 had been enticed into dark alleys and robbed. Next 
 morning it looked as if the bank would never open its 
 doors. I passed and repassed, afraid to stop and look 
 in, for fear some one would suspect I had some money 
 and would lay a trap for me. Finally the door opened 
 and I was the first to enter. I presented the draft. It 
 was the proudest act of my life. The fellow looked 
 at it, and then at me, turned it over, looked on a book, 
 cut his eye at me again, then looked at his watch, ask- 
 ed me some more questions, then went in a back room 
 and was gone, oh ! so long. "Surely," I began to think, 
 "maybe he Avill slip out of the back door and I will 
 never see my draft anymore." But finally he returned 
 with another man. I can't recall it all now, but after 
 a while it was arranged and the man asked : "What 
 do you want for this?" "Want gold," was my reply. 
 I had heard of bank notes that were not good — there 
 were no green backs then. I was determined to be 
 on the safe side. Nothing but gold would satisfy me. 
 "Mighty heavy for you to pack," he said, but I knew 
 of no other way. Two sacks were given me. My ! how 
 my eyes opened as the money was counted into the 
 sacks in $20 gold pieces. I had never seen so much 
 money before. 
 
 Taking a Sack in Each Hand, I Trudged Away Up 
 the Street. 
 Block after block was passed and finally, I w^ent 
 up tiie stairway and stood almost breathless in the 
 lawyer's office. Depositing my treasure on a chair, 
 I said: "Mr. Anderson, that note is due today and 
 I have come to pay it." "All right, my boy, you could 
 have waited three days longer if you wished," was the 
 lawyer's kind reply. I had been impressed with the 
 exact date and thought it so fortunate that the steam- 
 er arrived just the day before the note fell due. I 
 thought something awful would happen if it was not 
 promptly settled, when due. I knew nothing of days 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 31 
 
 of grace : "But what have you in those sacks," queried 
 the lawyer in a kindly tone. "That's the money," I re- 
 plied. Of course the laugh was on me. There I got 
 my first lesson in banking. The draft endorsed by me 
 would have suited him much better than the two sacks 
 of gold coin. So I was a "gold bug" when William 
 Jennings Bryan was a kid, and I have never changed 
 my platform. 
 
 In San Francisco, when my brother put me in charge 
 of his property to rent, he said, "You will collect each 
 month about $100.00. Sometimes you will have to 
 spend something on repairs, but that need not be 
 much. Then monthly interest on a note for a little 
 while, then your expenses, if you save anything it will 
 be yours." A boy who had never handled any money 
 in his life, to have that much each month, you may 
 imagine what happened. It was the finest opportunity 
 a boy ever had to go to ruin. I spent it all, as one 
 might suppose, but never a cent in dissipation. I was 
 grievously imposed upon. I boarded with a New 
 Bedford, Massachusetts Yankee — a regular Blue Bel- 
 ly was he. His wife was a fine motherly soul, who was 
 as tender with me as if I were her son. A pair of girls, 
 twelve and fourteen, well behaved as one ever saw, 
 the old lady would say : "I see by the papers that 
 
 is to lecture. I do wish the girls could go." 
 
 Whereupon, poor fool that I was, I would say, "All 
 right, let them be ready and I'll take them, maybe 
 you'd like to go too" — then the old man would join 
 the band. A big ball, though I didn't dance, nor did 
 the girls, the old lady thought: "It would be so im- 
 proving to the girls to go and look on" — all this, with 
 theatres and parties and excursions, for which I cared 
 but little, gobbled up my spare change, and maybe it 
 was just as well. I learned much about the ways of 
 the world and might have been in worse places and 
 spent my money more foolishly. 
 
32 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 That old New Bedford Yankee was a rank Aboli- 
 tionist and often provoked me with his remarks. There 
 was a bright negro boy who occasionally dropped in. 
 He knew I was a Southerner and was very respectful 
 — would shine my shoes Sunday mornings. Coming 
 once, while we were at breakfast, the old man insisted 
 upon his being seated to take breakfast with us, but 
 he declined, I am sure on my account. I happened in 
 the dining room at night, a time or two, when the 
 old man and girls were playing cards with the darkey. 
 Finally I interviewed the old lady telling her, wc were 
 so far apart in our notions of things, her husband was 
 so persistent in thrusting in his abolition theories 
 at the table and favored social equality with the ne- 
 gro race, I would change my quarters. It was a mat- 
 ter of great distress to her, for my board and libe- 
 ralities went far to the support of the family. 
 
 I chanced one Saturday to go to Oakland, quite a 
 nice town then — now a great city. My brother 
 had told me of an old friend of his over there. Judge 
 McKee, and I called on him. I found him to be an 
 intense Southerner. His wife was a Miss Davis, from 
 Mississippi, a kinswoman of Jeff Davis, afterwards 
 President of the Confederacy. It so happened that 
 there was to be a gathering of young people at his 
 house that night and they were all Southern people. 
 Of course I was not slow to accept an invitation to 
 remain over. Such a company of fire-eating South- 
 erners I had no idea could be gotten together in Cali- 
 fornia. All the talk was about secession. All 
 the songs were of the South. I heard Dixie for the 
 first time. It required only a hint on the part of my 
 new friends to make a change in my living. I went 
 to Oakland College, selected a room and two days 
 later was out of the great city and over the bay 
 where every Sunday I could visit my Southern friends 
 and talk "secesh." The more we talked, of course, 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 33 
 
 the madder I got and when the war broke out a few 
 weeks later, the spirit of rebelHon was hot within me. 
 It was a time of great excitement and great danger. 
 On a Friday night I went over to the city. The 
 next morning as I was dressing, I thought I 
 heard an unusual tone in the voices of the newsboys 
 and I heard excited voices on the street and in the 
 hotel. When I reached the sidewalk, I heard the cry : 
 "Here's the Morning Call ! All about the great battle 
 of Bull Run." "Federal troops falling back on Wash- 
 ington, pursued by the Rebel army. Rebel army march- 
 ing on the Capital." My first impulse was to shout : 
 "Hurrah for Jeff Davis!" 
 Had I done so, I would have been torn to pieces by 
 crowds surging through the streets. All business was 
 suspended, the streets were jammed. I bought a pa- 
 per and got out of the crowd as quickly as possible. 
 I hardly stirred out of the office of my friend all day, 
 so fearful was he that my mouth w^ould get me into 
 trouble. The next day I attended Dr. Scott's church 
 (Presbyterian). 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 I speak of two California preachers. At my 
 
 brother's suggestion, I wrote to old Friend- 
 ship in Wilcox and got my letter, and put it in the 
 First Baptist Church in San Francisco. My brother 
 was not a church member, but he had correct notions 
 of how a Christian should live, and what was best for 
 a young fellow in my condition. 
 
 In only a few services, I discovered I was in a bed 
 of South Haters at the First Church. I could 
 not stand the flings at the South from the pulpit. 
 The Methodist South had a little church in the city. 
 The preacher was O. P. Fitzgerald, a strong South- 
 erner, and a good preacher. Across the Bay, at Oak- 
 
34 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 land where I entered school, there were half a dozen 
 Southern families from Mississippi. Among them a 
 family of Glasscocks, whose son John, afterwards be- 
 came a Congressman. These were all Southern Meth- 
 odists and Fitzgerald had an afternoon appointment to 
 which I went regularly. Southerners were not numer- 
 ous, but in these critical times, they were drawn close 
 together. Fitzgerald, after the war, became a Bishop, 
 and lived for years in Nashville. When the Southern 
 Baptist Convention was in session there, he delivered a 
 short address. During recess I shook his hand, with 
 the remark : "You never saw me before." to which he 
 instantly replied : "Yes, it is Crumpton. I knew you 
 by your voice." It had been fifty years since we had 
 met. 
 
 A great Presbyterian church, in the heart of San 
 Francisco, had as pastor a Doctor Scott, originally 
 from New Orleans. A large number of his members 
 were Southerners. I frequented his church and be- 
 came acquainted in his family. As the War went on, 
 no one can imagine the trouble and danger to a 
 Southern man in San Francisco at that time. The war 
 never touched California directly, because of its re- 
 moteness, without railroad communication, but there 
 were many exciting scenes. The two preachers named 
 came into my life at a critical period, and were valu- 
 able helpers to the boy in tiding him over some rough 
 places. 
 
 In such an atmosphere as we breathed in San Fran- 
 cisco in those days, it was not strange that Southern 
 sympathizers began laying plans and schemes to get 
 away to the South. 
 
 Companies were secretly organized and meeting 
 places agreed upon far out on the eastern border. 
 Some of these companies were butchered by the In- 
 dians ; others overtaken and captured by the Federal 
 cavalry. My brother, suspecting my state of mind, 
 
X i. XJKJKJ 1 
 
 came out and we held a conference. He had large in- 
 terests there and some in Alabama. He proposed to 
 leave me there to look after his affairs while he came 
 through the lines ; but that was not my mind at all. 
 I announced my purpose to go. He was opposed to 
 my attempting the trip across the plains, no matter 
 how strong the company that accompanied me. He 
 wanted me to run no risks. He planned the trip — 
 back over the same route to New York, thence to 
 Wisconsin, to the home of an old friend, to remain 
 until spring — meantime corresponding with Col. U. S. 
 Grant, the military commander at Cairo, 111., to get a 
 pass, if possible, on some pretext or other, through the 
 lines. 
 
 My firm resolve against ever again going on 
 an ocean steamer had to be broken. I was in 
 a condition of mind, which would have made me 
 willing to attempt the trip in a balloon. On 
 November 30, 1861, I took the steamer. On Janu- 
 ary 1st, I reached my destination at Beloit, Wis. The 
 trip was full of interesting incidents, but I mention 
 only one. I made the acquaintance on the steamer of 
 a Marylander, who had been in California for many 
 years. His destination was Baltimore. He expected 
 to get through the lines and join the Confederate cav- 
 alry. When we reached New York, he gave me a lit- 
 tle four barrel Sharp's pistol with one hundred cart- 
 ridges. He expected to equip himself with something 
 more formidable. This, the only pistol I ever owned, 
 was one of the most harmless weapons I ever saw. I 
 mention it now only to introduce it later. 
 
 At Beloity Wisconsin, or rather, four miles in 
 the country, I met a warm welcome from my 
 brother's old friends. He had met them in Cal- 
 ifornia in the early days. I learned also that 
 there was a match brewing between him and the 
 oldest daughter, which was afterwards consummated. 
 
How the snow did pile up soon after I reached 
 Wisconsin! I had never seen the like before. My 
 friends, knowing that I was a Southerner and unused 
 to such severe weather, were as tender of me as if I 
 had been a baby; but in a few days I did not at all 
 mind it. Winter time is the time for visiting in the 
 North, and so I was on the go with the family much 
 of the time. Another way I spent mv time wps to go 
 out in the deep snow in the fields. Sometimes a rab- 
 l)it, frightened at my crushing through the crust of 
 the snow, would jump out of his hole ten feet away 
 and sit for a moment, loath to run away in the cold. 
 Many a time I emptied my pistol at him. and would 
 then throw the gun at him before he would run away. 
 That gun will be heard from again. 
 
 Without any talk about it, I secured a large map 
 of the "Seat of the war in the West." This I put 
 on the wall in the dining room. It gave all the pubHc 
 roads. With the study of the map, I read diligently 
 the Chicago Daily Times, which gave the movements 
 of troops along the route I might choose. I picked 
 out two routes ; one through Southeast Missouri, the 
 other through Kentucky and Tennessee, both branch- 
 ing out from Southern Illinois. My brother hoped I 
 would become satisfied to remain in this lovely North- 
 ern home and go to school, but I was bent on going to 
 the war. I did as he suggested, however ; I corre- 
 sponded with Col. U. S. Grant, commandant at the 
 post at Cairo, 111., afterwards the great General and 
 twice President, asking for a pass through the Hues, 
 and received a very kind letter in reply, denying the 
 request. 
 
 I might have remained in Wisconsin until spring, 
 when I could have had better weather and more 
 money, but for an incident I will presently relate. 
 
 The fall of Fort Donelson, in Tennessee, was a 
 fearful blow to me. Of course there was a 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. Z7 
 
 great exultation everywhere up North. I saw 
 and heard it all, l^ut could say nothing. One day 
 while in Beloit, I saw a great crowd on the sidewalk. 
 Drawing near I discovered the attraction. It was a 
 butternut jeans jacket, which had been taken off a 
 dead Confederate at Ft. Donelson. It was shot through 
 and was saturated with blood. On it was a large 
 placard with these words : 
 
 "Taken from the dead body of Private Turner of 
 the Mississippi Rifles on the battlefield of Fort Don- 
 elson. 
 
 I gazed at it for a moment and heard the exultant 
 laugh and jeers from the toughs who gathered about 
 it. I turned away with clenched teeth, determined 
 to go South at all hazards at once. I announced to 
 my friends that evening, that I was going to Chicago, 
 a hundred miles away, next morning to see the Fort 
 Donelson prisoners who were confined in Camp Doug- 
 las. 
 
 I had only a little money. I could have gotten more 
 from my friends if I had asked for it, but I thought 
 possibly I might be captured and tracked back to their 
 home and get them in trouble. I wanted them to have 
 the privilege of saying they knew nothing at all about 
 my plans and for the same reason, I did not care for 
 them to know of my intentions. Lest I should create 
 some suspicion, I took no satchel with me. On the 
 6th of March, 1862, I started. With a shawl securely 
 strapped, in which I had slipped a shirt, with every 
 scratch of pen or pencil, by which I might be identi- 
 fied, destroyed, I bade farewell to my friends, with no 
 expectation of returning again. 
 
 I shall say now and then that things "happened," 
 but I do not believe that things "happen". I think they 
 are all a part of the chain of God's great plan. 
 
38 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Things Don*t Happen. 
 
 It so happened that I put up at the Madison House 
 in passing through Chicago, and so I naturally went 
 back to the same place in returning to the city, and 
 this happened to be the headquarters of Colonel Mul- 
 ligan, the Commandant of Camp Douglas. Arriving 
 there in the middle of the afternoon, I got aboard a 
 street car and went out to the Camp. Looking through 
 the open gate, I saw for the first time Confederate 
 soldiers. They were all dressed in butternut jeans. 
 In the beginning, the Confederates did not wear the 
 grey, because they did not have it. The cloth made 
 all over the country by the mothers and sisters was 
 jeans, the color of butternut. 
 
 Returning to the hotel; after supper, I wrote the 
 very best note I could to Col. Mulligan and sent it up 
 to his rooms. Expecting every moment to be called 
 up into his office ; minutes seemed hours. I am sure, 
 if my fears had been realized, it would have taken only 
 about two questions to have tangled me. What would 
 have happened then, I have no idea, but I guess I 
 would have been arrested and probably thrown into 
 prison as a Southern sympathizer. But to my great 
 delight, the servant returned with a card on a silver 
 waiter and on it was written : 
 "Let Mr. W. B. Crumpton Into the Camp Tomorrow." 
 
 As soon as I could get my breakfast the next morn- 
 ing, I was on my way to the Camp. On entering the 
 open gate, I saw the barracks of an Alabama Regi- 
 ment. The Barracks, were long, low buildings. The 
 Camp was laid ofif like a city, with streets and alleys. 
 I entered the building at once and in a moment was 
 surrounded by a large number of men. I said: "You 
 are Alabamians, and so am I. I have been to Califor- 
 nia. I am on my way back. I expect to start tomor- 
 row morning from this City, to go through the lines 
 and join the Confederate army." I rattled off the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 39 
 
 words very rapidly, never realizing for a moment the 
 danger I might be in. When I reached the end of 
 the sentence, I looked into their faces, and they look- 
 ed like boards, not a feature indicated any sympathy 
 for what I said. 
 
 It was paralyzing ; but fortunately a Mississippian 
 happened to be there. Why he was there I 
 never did know, but when I had finished my speech, he 
 said: "Did you say your name was Crumpton?" I 
 said "yes." "And do your father and sisters live in 
 Mississippi?" I said "yes." "And did you visit them 
 before you went to California?" I replied, "yes, two 
 years ago." "Well," he said, "I belong to a Company 
 right from their neighborhood. I did not see you, but 
 I heard the people speaking about your visit. Come 
 with me and I will introduce you to the boys who can 
 tell you about your people." He took me to his bar- 
 racks, several hundred yards away, carried me back 
 into a dark corner, and said in a low tone : "You are 
 in great danger. You must keep your mouth shut. I 
 am not surprised at your being carried away at meet- 
 ing those Alabamians, but there is a rumor out among 
 us, that they are going to take the oath and go West 
 and relieve the Regulars there, who will be sent to 
 the front and, we believe it. I know you must have 
 observed the indifference that they manifested when 
 you were talking. Probably some of them will be- 
 tray you today before you get out. You stay with us, 
 and late this evening, I will see if I can't get you out 
 through another gate. I hardly think they will know 
 where my quarters are, as I am a perfect stranger to 
 them. It was only an accident that I was present 
 when you came in." 
 
 This is the first lesson I had in "Shut- Mouth" 
 and it has served me all my days. You may be sure 
 I did not need a second invitation to remain with them. 
 Numbers of the boys talked with me, and we had a 
 
40 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 pleasant day. Late in the afternoon, my friend con- 
 ducted me in sight of another gate. I divided my 
 money with him and left. 
 
 When returning to the hotel, I satisfied myself 
 about the way the Illinois Central R. R. ran out from 
 the city, because that was the route I expected to take. 
 It didn't make any difference then with me about 
 lower, or upper berths. The next morning, Sunday, 
 the 9th'^of March, with my shawl wrapped in a hand- 
 strap, and my overcoat and rubbers on, 
 
 I started out afoot down the railroad. Fifteen 
 miles below, was the town of Calumet, now a 
 part of the city; I reached there about the middle of 
 the afternoon, and went into the eating house by the 
 railroad. There a large number of men gathered around 
 the stove, talking about the war. About six o'clock 
 they broke up and went to their homes for supper, 
 and I was left alone with the proprietor, who was al- 
 so the railroad agent. 
 
 I had made it up with my friends at Camp Douglass, 
 if I should be captured I would claim my name was 
 Hardy, one of their comrades, who had been left some- 
 where, and they would recognize me as Hardy. In 
 that way, later on, I would be exchanged and get 
 through. It was a poorly put up story, but that was 
 the understanding. 
 
 So I did not expect to be Crumpton any more. The 
 proprietor said : "You seem to be traveling." 
 I said "yes." "Afoot?" "Yes." "Where are you from." 
 "Beloit, Wisconsin." "What is your name?" I said 
 "Crumpton." Immediately he took my breath by say- 
 ing: "You are lately from California, aren't you?" 
 
 Forty frogs seemed to jump into my throat. I 
 choked them down the best I could and finally said : 
 "Yes, sir, but how did you know it?" He said: "Do 
 you know Safford in California?" I said "yes, one of 
 the best friends I ever had." "Well," he replied, "Saf- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 41 
 
 ford and I were reared down in Cairo. It has been 
 years since I was there, but last Christmas I went to 
 visit the old scenes and, among others, called on his 
 brother. He showed me a letter from the California 
 brother, in which he said a young man by the name 
 of Crumpton had gone to Beloit, Wisconsin, and he 
 had sent some Japanese and Chinese curiosities by 
 him." I said, "y^s, I am the boy. I sent the curios by 
 express a month ago, and I expect to see the Saffords 
 on this trip." I did not deserve anything for telling 
 the truth ; my intention was to tell a lie. Suppose I 
 had said my name was Hardy: His next word would 
 have been : "Do you know a young fellow by the name 
 of "Crumpton, latel}^ from California?" Then I would 
 have been into it. 
 
 Resuming the conversation, he said: "How is it 
 that you are afoot?" My reply was: "My brother 
 promised to send me money and when he did not do it, 
 I became impatient and determined to go without it. 
 "Where are you going?" I said: "To Vienna." It was 
 a place I had picked out on the map, about twenty 
 miles East of Anna Station. I guessed it was a very in- 
 significant place. Anna Station was the Camp of In- 
 struction for the Federal Army, about twenty miles 
 north of Cairo. I had chosen that as my point of des- 
 tination, as no one would suspect me if I should be 
 going where the Federal soldiers were. My friend said : 
 "Young man, you are surely not acquainted with the 
 prairie and the winter weather. It is pleasant for this 
 time of the year, but in a few days snow storms and 
 blizzards will be the order and any man, taking the 
 trip you propose afoot, would freeze to death. It is 
 out of the question for you to think of such a thing, it 
 is near three hundred miles." I said: "Well, I will 
 go until the storm breaks out." 
 
 He said, "you remain with me tonight. It shan't 
 cost you anything, and in the morning I will see if I 
 
42 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 can't get you a ticket to Anna Station." I said: "I 
 like to settle things in my mind ; think I can sleep 
 better. I have a little pistol here which was given me 
 by a friend. It is hardly of any value to anybody ex- 
 cept me, but if you will take it in pawn, for two weeks ; 
 for a ticket to Anna Station, I will take the ticket ; 
 otherwise I will pursue my journey afoot." He final- 
 ly agreed to do as I proposed and I turned over the 
 pistol to him. Really it was a relief to get rid of it, 
 for I had been uneasy every minute I had it in my 
 pocket. 
 
 The next morning I took the train which was 
 loaded down with FederjJ soldiers, going to 
 Anna Station. They were all young men, in 
 blue uniform and had large, well filled knapsacks. 
 I don't think I spoke a word to anybody that day. If 
 any one asked me a question, I answered only in 
 monosyllables. I saw these boys take new Bibles out 
 of their knapsacks and begin to read them. Nearly 
 every one of them had a Bible. I did not understand 
 it until, a few weeks later, when my own sister pre- 
 sented me with a Bible, as I started to the army, with 
 the injunction that I should read it. 
 
 A little before day I reached Anna Station ; 
 At Daylight I started West to the Mississippi River, 
 instead of east to Vienna. Taking dinner with a far- 
 mer, who was evidently in sympathy with the South- 
 ern people, he said : "How are you going to get cross 
 the river?" I said: *Ts there no ferry there?" "No, 
 there is a place where the ferry was, but all the boats 
 from St. Louis to Cairo have been destroyed by the 
 Federals, except one belonging to a fisherman, four 
 miles above the old ferry, but he is a Union man and 
 would see you dead before he would put you over." 
 About the middle of the afternoon I reached the aban- 
 doned ferry. I suppose the Mississippi River was low- 
 er than it had ever been at that time of the year. A 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 43 
 
 large sand bar extended out into the river and the 
 stream was very narrov^ where it swept around the bar. 
 I went up to the head of the sand bar and found drift- 
 wood of every imaginable kind. I had in mind to come 
 back and attempt to make a raft on which I might 
 pole or paddle myself across, if I should fail in getting 
 across in the fisherman's boat. As I approached the 
 house of the fisherman, I saw on the other side of the 
 river, in the village. Neely's Landing, was the 
 name, a large number of men. Evidently they 
 were having a lot of sport ; I guessed they had 
 much liquor aboard. I got the woman to call her hus- 
 band. I saw him and a companion coming down the 
 river bank on the other side. I discovered at once 
 that they were intoxicated. As they came up, the 
 owmer of the boat said: "Who are you?" "I am a 
 young fellow from Beloit, Wis., going to Greenville, 
 Mo." "Well, how do you know you are going?" I 
 replied : "I don't know it. I suppose it depends on you. 
 but I am very anxious to get across." He said : "Well, 
 old fellow, are you loyal? I am sworn not to put 
 anybody across here except loyal men, and I would 
 get into a world of trouble if I should put a rebel 
 across." I said : "How can a man be otherwise than 
 loyal when he comes from Beloit, Wis.? I was in 
 Chicago just day before yesterday and I expect, just 
 as soon as I get back home, to join the army." So af- 
 ter a good deal of parley, he said: "Well, it will take 
 one dollar in advance," which I readily paid, that left 
 me one dollar in my pocket. I was anxious to make a 
 good impression on him as to my loyalty, so I said, as 
 we were crossing: "Is there any danger of my falling 
 into the hands of the rebels on the other side of the 
 river?" He said: "I should say, and if they run up on 
 you they will kill you sure." I said: "That would be 
 awful. I think maybe I can walk two miles before 
 night; tell me the name of some loyal man out a little 
 
44 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 piece, where I could stay all night and be safe." He 
 said: *'A11 right I'll just take you up to the man and 
 introduce you, he will take care of you." I saw at 
 once I had spoken one word too many. I didn't want 
 to be introduced to anybody by that man, especially 
 to a loyal man. How was I going to get out of it 
 was the question! 
 
 Just as the boat landed, there came a number of men 
 down the bank, cursing and swearing at these fel- 
 lows. Evidently they had formed a conspiracy to 
 whip them when they got back. They commenced 
 fighting and rolled into the edge of the river before 
 I left. When I got to the top of the bank, I saw all 
 the people of the town coming my way, evidently, bent 
 on seeing the fight. I did not care to meet them, so I 
 took a path running down the river bank and walked 
 ofif just as if I lived down that way. I have no idea 
 that there was a man in the crowd that could have 
 remembered seeing m.e, if he had been sworn, they 
 were so intent on seeing that fight they had no eyes for 
 anything else. 
 
 I stayed that night with a galvanized man who 
 lived on the bank of the river, and found out 
 that he had been with Jefif Thompson, the Con- 
 federate Cavalry General, but had been caught and 
 made to take the oath of allegiance. Such men, 
 I afterwards discovered, were called "galvanized" 
 men. Before I left the house, the next morning, 
 I was treated to the sight of a steamboat, loaded 
 with Federal soldiers, going down the river. They 
 w^ere cheered lustily by the negroes, but the white 
 man and I observed them in silence. Of course, I told 
 him nothing about my intentions, except that I was 
 going to Greenville, Mo. Thinking it possible that it 
 might be difficult to get a letter back to my friends 
 later on, I wanted to find a stiitable place to write. 
 This I discovered by questioning an old negro. He 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 45 
 
 said he belonged to *'Marse John OHver. Young 
 Marse John was with Jeff Thompson and Miss Mary 
 was at home." I concluded I could confide in the mo- 
 ther after that information, so I approached the house 
 and introduced myself to the lady, telling her that I 
 was going South and wanted to write some letters 
 back to my friends. She kindly showed me a back 
 room and gave me stationery. I wrote to my friends 
 in Wisconsin, begging their pardon for deceiving them, 
 and asking them to redeem my pistol, so that the 
 man at Calumet might not lost anything. 
 
 This they did and three years after, they sent the 
 pistol to me, and I have it now, as a souvenir of those 
 days. 
 
 The lady said : "I w^ould be very glad for you to 
 spend the afternoon and night with us, so that my 
 husband might see you ; but it would be dangerous 
 for you and for us. The Home Guards are roaming 
 through the country all the time, and if you should 
 be found here, they might have my husband arrested 
 and carried off to prison, on the charge of harboring 
 a rebel, or they might burn our property down. There 
 is no telling what they would do. I am very uneasy 
 for you, lest they shall meet you and kill you." These 
 Home Guards, as I afterwards found out, were irre- 
 sponsible soldiers, most of them Germans, who were 
 but little more than marauders, and, I afterwards found 
 that we had some of the same sort among the Con- 
 federates. I had but little apprehension of trouble, 
 as I was to go to places where there were Federal 
 garrisons. I went through the first town late in the 
 afternoon with a "galvanized" man whom I happened 
 to meet just before reaching the village. I saw the 
 soldiers all around on the streets, drinking and ca- 
 rousing. A little further along, I spent the night in a 
 home where an old gentleman and his family were 
 living, taking care of the plantation and slaves be- 
 
46 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 longing to a young man who was with Jeff Thompson. 
 Of course they told me very much about the war, but 
 I said nothing to them further than that I was going 
 to Greenville. The next morning when I came down 
 stairs, I found the girls on the back veranda. Being 
 of a confiding disposition, especially with pretty girls, 
 I told them in a few words that I was going South to 
 the Confederate Army. Just then breakfast was an- 
 nounced. I sat down to the table with my back to- 
 wards the front door, and the girls sat on the opposite 
 side, in full view of the public road. As I was chat- 
 ting with them, casting sheep's eyes the while, I no- 
 ticed one of them suddenly change color, as she gazed 
 intently towards the front door, and 
 
 She remarked: "The road is full of Yainkees." 
 Immediately the frogs leaped into my throat, and I 
 was wondering what I would say to the fellows when 
 they came in. One girl bounded towards the door and 
 stood in it. It was the days of the hoop-skirt and she 
 just about filled the door, so that nobody might see 
 past her. The other girl begged me to run up stairs 
 and hide, which I was not at all inclined to do. The 
 old people were paralyzed, because they did not un- 
 derstand it at all. I hastily informed them of what I 
 had told the girls. That is one time, I don't know 
 what I ate for breakfast. It might have been knives 
 and forks and salt cellars for all I knew, but I kept 
 eating. The girl in the door turned her head and 
 said: "They are going into the lot." The old gentle- 
 man remarked : "I don't reckon they are coming in the 
 house at all ; they left some wounded horses with me 
 several weeks ago and told me yesterday they were 
 going to send after them." It was a great relief to 
 hear that, but I could not understand why a whole 
 regiment should have come after a few horses. Pres- 
 ently the girl said: "They are going off," and I felt 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 47 
 
 a pressure removed, equal to five hundred bales of cot- 
 ton. I felt as light as a feather and if I had had wings, 
 I certainly would have used them. 
 
 Each of these two nights, I spent twenty-five cents, 
 and that carried with it a lunch for the next day. 
 
 I left and went forty-five miles that day. Mind 
 you, I did not say I walked it ; when I was dead 
 sure nobody saw me, I ran. I saw very few people that 
 day. The Home Guards had done their work well, as 
 the burned houses indicated on every side. 
 
 Late that afternoon I was told that I was approach- 
 ing another village, but I need not go by the village 
 if I did not wnsh to ; I could turn to the left and cross 
 the creek lower down both roads led to Green- 
 ville. I had no business in the town, so I took the 
 left hand. Just before night I came to a deep, narrow, 
 ugly little stream that had no bridge across it. No- 
 body had been fording it. I looked in vain for a log 
 on which to cross it. I didn't want to go up the stream, 
 for that would carry me up into the town. I found 
 a pole, that probably nothing but a squirrel had ever 
 crossed on, but I ventured to straddle it, and inched 
 myself across. A kodak could have gotten a pic- 
 ture worth while then. Getting on the other side, I 
 went up to the most desolate looking home I had ever 
 seen. Not a sign of life, except now and then the 
 cackle of a chicken flying to the roost. I knocked at 
 the front door, but no response coming, like a tramp, 
 I went around to the kitchen. There was an old lady, 
 standing before an old-fashioned fire place, /cook- 
 ing supper. It seemed to me I never smelt the fry- 
 ing of bacon that was so delicious in my life. I said : 
 *T am traveling and am very tired; I want to stay all 
 night with you, please ma'am." She invited me in 
 saying : "Sit down by the fire here ; when my son 
 comes, maybe he will let you stay. I don't know 
 whether he will or not, he is mighty curious." The 
 
48 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 kitchen had a dirt floor. She put corn bread and fried 
 meat on the table and invited me to put my stool up 
 to the table and eat, which I was not slow to do. 
 
 Just then there came in such a man as I have never 
 seen, I judge he was about twenty-one with immense 
 jaws, high cheek bones, just a little space between his 
 eyebrows and hair, overhanging eyebrows and a way- 
 back, little beady eyes. He scowled at me, then said 
 to the old lady: "Who's this you've got here?" I 
 looked up and said: "Good evening sir, your mother 
 was kind enough to invite me in. I want to stay all 
 night with you and I hope you can accommodate me." 
 He took his old slouch hat off, threw it on the floor, 
 sat down and went to eating. Not a word passed. 
 That is another time I don't know what I ate. I eyed 
 him and he eyed me, but I mostly eyed the grub. He 
 got through before I did, picked up his hat and shot 
 out the door without a word. He had been gone not 
 ten minutes, when the biggest rain I ever heard, be- 
 gan to fall and I judge it fell through the whole night. 
 The old lady showed me to a bed and I retired, won- 
 dering whether I would wake up dead or alive, feeling 
 pretty certain that I would wake up dead, for I was 
 sure that boy was bent on mischief. Next morning, I 
 had my breakfast by candle-light, paid the old lady 
 a quarter, and said to her : *T am completely broken 
 down, my feet are blistered and swollen, I could hard- 
 ly get my shoes on this morning. I have no money. 
 Is there anybody living near here, on whom it w^ould 
 not be an imposition, who might let me rest until 
 Monday morning?" The reply was: 'T have a son 
 about three miles down the road. He is plenty able 
 to do it if he would, but he is curiouser than that boy 
 you saw here last night." When I got out the front 
 gate, I looked down on that insignificant little old 
 creek, and there was a stream of water big enough to 
 float the navy of the United States. It did not dawn 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 49 
 
 on me then, but later I felt sure that boy crossed the 
 creek and went to town to report me to the Yankees 
 and that rain and overflow prevented his designs from 
 being carried out. Doubtless the stream remained up 
 the greater part of two days. I trudged along, drag- 
 ging my feet as best I could, and after so long a time, 
 reached the home of this "curiouser" son. He came 
 out and stood on the stoop to listen to my yarn about 
 going to Greenville. 
 
 He was not a prayer-meeting man, I Judged from 
 his language. He said: "Do you think I am a 
 fool? You are nothing but a little old rebel or 
 some little old boy going to the rebels. I hope to God 
 the Home Guards will find you today and kill you. 
 If I see any of them I am going to put them on your 
 track." Of course I had no further argument with that 
 man. I went off a few hundred yards, felt of my 
 knees to see if there were any joints there, for up to 
 that time, I had not discovered them that day. How 
 mad I did get ! I gritted my teeth, shook my fist, 
 bowed my neck, and shot out, going thirty-five miles. 
 I never saw a soul all day. 
 
 The remains of burned homes I could see ; now and 
 them a place was spared and evidently the people 
 were about, but out of sight. I was almost in despair 
 of reaching a place to spend the night, when just be- 
 fore dark, I looked down and saw one of the most 
 beautiful sights I ever beheld.' It was an old country 
 home, the doors wide open, good fires burning, the 
 negro quarters stretching out and fires burning bright- 
 ly in the cabins. I heard the lowing of cattle, the 
 bleating of sheep, the cackling of poultry, all indicat- 
 ing a place of plenty. I found it to be an old lady's 
 home, whose son and grand son had been with Jeff 
 Thompson, captured and galvanized. They were so 
 outspoken, I made bold that night to tell them who 
 I was and where I was going. They said : *Tt is im- 
 
50 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 possible for you to go any further until Caster river 
 goes down. As the road runs, it crosses the river three 
 times. There is a possibility of 3^our going far up 
 the river and getting a "galvanized" man to put you 
 across in a boat, and at another place getting a v^idow 
 woman to send you across on horseback and then 
 
 Reaching old *Uncle McCullough's,' but you ought 
 not to undertake it. Stay with us until Mon- 
 day morning at least." The old lady did not hear 
 this conversation. The boys were off early the next 
 morning to their work, confident that I was going to 
 remain. I concluded the mother ought to be consult- 
 ed, and so I ventured to say, as she was washing the 
 dishes : "The boys said it would be all right for me 
 to remain and rest here until Monday morning. I sup- 
 pose it will be all right with you?" She said "y-e-s, I 
 rek-in-so." I saw at once that I was not welcome. I 
 thought about it a little while and presently returned 
 and said : "I believe, on reflection, if you will fix me 
 up a lunch, I will go on." She did so without any 
 protest. "How much do I owe you?" I asked. "Half 
 a dollar," was the reply. It was the first time anybody 
 suggested a price like that and I had only a quarter 
 left. I took out the quarter and said : "This is as near 
 as I can come to paying it." I fully expected the old 
 soul to say "keep it," bless your life, she took it. 
 
 So I made the trip, after many adventures, falling 
 into the overflow a time or two, and reached "Uncle 
 McCullough's" just at night fall. Providence was lead- 
 ing me, I believe. Had I carried out my plans to re- 
 main until Monday morning, that stream at the vil- 
 lage would have gone down and the Yankees doubtless 
 would have found me there, then I would have been 
 done for. 
 
 So much for my antipathy to staying where I am 
 not welcome. It served me in good turn on that oc- 
 casion as it has on many another. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 51 
 
 "Uncle McCullough" was an uncle of Gen. Ben Mc- 
 Cullough, who was distinguishing himself at this time 
 as a Confederate General. As I stood in the door 
 and looked at the old patriarch, standing before a 
 large fire, in an old-fashioned fireplace, 
 
 I felt like one in a dream, tie was the same 
 height and same complexion as my .own uncle, 
 Richard Bryan, with whom I had lived when 
 a boy at Pleasant Hill in Dallas county. The 
 similarity of the house, the cedar trees in front and 
 the further coincidence of both being class-leaders in 
 the Methodist church — I was almost dazed that night 
 as I thought about it. I said to the old gentleman: "I 
 am traveling, I have no money, and I want to stay all 
 night, please sir." The response from his old warm 
 heart came immediately : "Why come in, my son, of 
 course you can stay all night, money don't make any 
 difference here. You seem to be wet, you must have 
 some dry clothes," with that he took me into another 
 room and dressed me up in his best, wrung out my 
 clothes and hung them before the fire to dry. He took 
 me into a kitchen, with a dirt floor, identical with 
 "Uncle Dick's" home when I was a boy, and intro- 
 duced me to a dear old soul who was the very image 
 of old "Aunt Nancy." After supper I opened my heart 
 to him : 
 
 "I have been saying I was going to Greenville. I 
 don't know anything about Greenville, or care any- 
 thing about it ; I want to go South and join the Con- 
 federate army." The old man said: "Well, my son, 
 you are dangerously near Greenville, only twelve 
 miles ; the Yankees were out here today and may be 
 out here tonight. I don't know what I will do with ' 
 you. It is too cold for you to go out to the fodder- 
 loft, so I am going to put you in bed and pray the 
 Lord to protect you." 
 
 You people, who don't believe in prayer: the boy 
 
52 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 I am telling you about, was not very religious, but 
 when the old patriarch told him he was going to pray 
 for him ; he felt as secure as if an army of soldiers 
 had been around him. 
 
 We ate breakfast by candle-light, and just about 
 sun-up we were climbing the hill back of the garden. 
 When I reached the toj), I saw stretched out for miles 
 Caster river bottom, overflowing everything. The 
 old man said : "Now, my son, you will see nobody to- 
 day. You will find no road except this path. You 
 follow this trail right down this ridge and you will 
 come to Ira Abernathy's. There you will have to stop. 
 It is folly to try to go any further until the over- 
 flow goes down. Nobody will ever find you there. 
 Ira is a good Methodist ; he has been galvanized. You 
 tell him that Uncle McCullough sent you there and 
 said for him to take care of you until the river goes 
 down, it will be all right." I sauntered along that 
 day, one of the prettiest Sundays I ever saw. Deer, 
 turkeys and squirrels were seen on every side. Late 
 in the afternoon, I reached the end of my journey and 
 delivered "Uncle McCullough's" message. When I 
 was through I saw a face that reminded me exactly 
 of the faces oi those Alabamians in Chicago at Camp 
 Douglas. I saw through it instantly. Ira had con- 
 scientious regard for his oath. If he kept me there 
 and it was found out, it would go hard with him. 
 
 Before I went to bed my mind was made up not to 
 remain. I found out from him it was fourteen miles to 
 Bloomfield where the Confederates were, about nine 
 miles was overflowed, that the depth would not be 
 above my waist, except at the last ; Duck Creek was 
 deep and dangerous, that I would pass only one house 
 and that was just before I reached Duck creek. 
 
 So the next morning I started, and in five minutes 
 I was knee deep in water. I could tell the way the 
 road ran by watching the trees, so I kept just on the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 53 
 
 outside of the edge in the woods. Before a great 
 while I came to a slough, which seemed to be dan- 
 gerous, and on sounding it I found that here was one 
 place that my friend had certainly forgotten ; it was 
 very much over my head. I turned to find a log to cross 
 it, which I successfully walked, but on going out on 
 the other side on a limb, the limb broke and I fell into 
 the water. Remember this was March, and it was in 
 Missouri, and you can imagine that I was not very 
 comfortable. You can see something of the happy- 
 go-lucky boy, when I tell you, that out there, half a 
 mile from the road, wet as a drowned rat and water 
 all around me, I took out my knife and stood for half 
 an hour by the side of a smooth beech tree, and carved 
 my name : "W. B. Crumpton, Pleasant Hill, Ala." 
 It is there to this day, if the forests have not been de- 
 stroyed. 
 
 I waded along throughout the day and late that aft- 
 ernoon I passed the house on my right, the only dry 
 land I had seen. Beyond the house a slough ran up 
 from the overflow into a corn field. The fence was 
 built up to each end of a log across the slough and 
 rails were stuck in above the log as a sort of water 
 fence. Behind these rains, on the log I was making 
 my way across, when I heard a corn stalk crack over 
 in the field. 
 
 Looking in that direction I saw a Yankee, in full 
 uniform, with a gun on his shoulder. How those 
 frogs did leap into my throat! What was I to 
 do? I did not dare to dodge; in that case, I could 
 never have explained it if he had seen me. If I should 
 go on the road, he would probably see me, so I eased 
 myself off the end of the log and walked straight away 
 from him into the overflow. I had no idea where I 
 was going, only I knew I was going away from him. 
 I was feeling for bullets in my back all the time, but I 
 am sure that he did not see me. If he had, he would 
 
54 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 have killed me and have thrown my body in the creek. 
 Now see how Providence leads? If I had followed 
 the road and escaped his eye, I would have come to 
 the creek, with no possible chance of crossing. Na- 
 turally I would have turned up the creek, never would 
 have dreamed of going down into the overflow. As it 
 turned out, I came to a raft just in the creek. It had 
 broken loose, I suppose, from a mill above and had 
 lodged there. By wading in, waist deep, I climbed on 
 it, but found I was still some distance from the bank 
 on the other side. I had not looked around since I 
 left the Yankee, so standing on the raft, I eased myself 
 around but saw no one. When I measured the water 
 on the other side I found it too deep for me to wade 
 and I couldn't swim a lick. I reached around in the 
 water, got hold of a loose, sassafras pole, floated it 
 around, stuck it in the bank on the other side, and un- 
 dertook to work it partially under water. Of 
 course it wabbled ; I went down head and ears. Com- 
 ing up, fortunately, I grasped my bundle in one hand 
 and my cap in the other, and found myself chin deep 
 in the water. I waded out on the other side, which 
 seemed to be "the bank of sweet deliverance." I 
 had been told that I would be on the side of the Con- 
 federates when I got there. I walked briskly up to 
 the top of the hill, looked around to see if there 
 were any signs of campfires anywhere, indicating the 
 presence of a Yankee force. I supposed that the 
 man I saw in the bottom was on picket. Seeing no 
 signs of camp, I shot down the hill as fast as I could 
 run. An old man seeing me shouted: "Hello, there." 
 I rephed: "Hello, yourself." He said: "Stop and 
 give me the news." I said : "I have no news." He 
 yelled again : "Have you seed any soldiers." I re- 
 plied : "Yes, I saw one back there in the river bot- 
 tom." He said: "Yes, that's Ike Reader, I hered he 
 wus home 'tother day ; but stop and give me some 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 55 
 
 news." I said: "No, I haven't time," and on I rushed. 
 I won't say I went the remaining five miles in three- 
 quarters of an hour, but I went it in a very short time. 
 The idea of being caught almost within sight of the 
 rebel lines possessed me and it put wings on my feet. 
 When I reached the borders of the village just about 
 night fall. 
 
 There was a man standing, as if he were waiting 
 for me, and when I told him my story, he 
 said: "Come right along up to Capt. Miller's home, 
 and you will be welcome." I found that the Captain 
 owned a steamboat on the St. Francis river, and I 
 guess I could have gotten passage, if I had asked for 
 it, but I never thought of it. I was given dry clothes, 
 treated most tenderly, and the next morning at break- 
 fast was told that the rebel scouts were in town. 
 
 That was the best news I had ever heard. The Cap- 
 tain accompanied me to the front door and said : "You 
 can go out of the front gate there, or you can take] 
 this path and go through the grove. I looked down 
 the path and saw the scouts passing the gap, and just 
 as I got to the gap all of them had passed except one. 
 I said to him : 'T saw a Yankee in the river bottom 
 yesterday." He said: "Do you know who he was?" 
 I said : "No, but I might know the name, if I heard 
 it." He said: "Was it Ike Reader?" I said: "Yes, 
 that was the name I heard a man call." So he put 
 spurs to his horse and went to the head of the column 
 shouting as he went : "Old Ike Reader is at home." 
 I judge they had heard that he was home on furlough 
 and were going after him. 
 
 Twenty-four miles wasn't much of a walk, so I 
 sauntered along through the day and just at dark came 
 up to the pickets. They were raw recruits, whom I 
 suppose had never known duty. They had stacked 
 their guns and built a fire and were out in the woods 
 gathering wood to burn through the night. I came 
 
56 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 up between them and their guns. They were fright- 
 ened nearly to death. I could have captured them 
 without any difficulty. I told them they were the fel- 
 lows I was hunting for and that I wanted to surren- 
 der. Three of them took me back about a mile and 
 let me go to bed, while they sat up and watched me 
 all night. 
 
 Next morning they carried me back several miles 
 to the company of Capt. Hunter. I found him to be an 
 old veteran of Mexican war. He had recruited a 
 company and was up there in Stoddard County drill- 
 ing them and enlisting other men before going South. 
 When I told him my story, he said : "I will release 
 you on parole of honor, that you will not leave the 
 camp. You will be safer with us than traveling alone. 
 In a little while we will go down the river to Helena, 
 Ark. That will be right on your road. I will take 
 you in my mess and you will be treated right." Such 
 kindness on the part of a perfect stranger, under the 
 circumstances, was unusual and greatly encouraging to 
 me. The next afternoon the scouts came along with 
 their man. They had found him at home. I saw their 
 Captain and ours talking very animatedly for prob- 
 ably thirty minutes and as he rode oft, he said: "He 
 is mine by rights, and I am going to have him." When 
 he was gone, the Captain took me into his tent and 
 asked me if I had met those scouts. I related to him 
 the circumstances of my going through the grove at 
 Bloomfield. rather than through the front gate, which 
 would have caused me to meet the head of the column. 
 I did it only from convenience, not from any fears 
 that I had. He replied: "You certainly were fortu- 
 nate in going through that grove. The Captain of 
 that Company is nothing more than a marauder, al- 
 though he wears the Confederate uniform. It is his 
 custom, when he meets a civilian anywhere, to kill 
 him, but he will take a Federal soldier prisoner. I 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 57 
 
 will not ask you to enlist with us, but you be just as 
 one of our soldiers. Have you a gun ready at hand 
 with ammunition, and whenever you see those scouts, 
 don't expose yourself. We are going to protect you." 
 That the Captain was not mistaken in the man I soon 
 discovered. We saw a suttler pass our camp one day, 
 and just a little later saw this Captain with his 
 scouts going in the same direction. It was not a 
 great while before we heard pistol shots and present- 
 ly they came back and our men learned from them 
 that the Captain had taken the suttler out into the 
 woods, and shot him, leaving his wagon standing in 
 the road. He was a harmless fellow who was gath- 
 ering up chickens and eggs and butter, and selling 
 them wherever he could, sometimes to the Federals 
 and sometimes to the Confederates. 
 
 You may be sure I was on the lookout. 
 
 The number of Yankees the scouts had as prisoners, 
 increased to probably twenty-five. When the com- 
 panies assembled to start South under General Thomp- 
 son, sometimes these scouts were ahead and soine- 
 times in the rear. They passed and repassed us. Word 
 went down the line whenever they were approaching, 
 "Cramp, look-out," and I was always ready. The old 
 Yankee soon found out that I was the man who had 
 told on him and learned my name and he would shout 
 when he came in sight of me, "Hello Crump." 
 
 It was several weeks before we reached Helena, 
 Ark. There I ate breakfast with the boys, the morn- 
 ing before they went up the river. I could have se- 
 cured rations if I had thought of it. I learned after- 
 wards, a soldier was satisfied so long as his stomach 
 was full. I went to see General Thompson, however, 
 and got from him a paper, stating that I had come 
 to them up in Missouri, that I was on my way to my 
 friends in Mississippi, and commending me to people 
 wherever I went. I could have gotten transportation 
 
58 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 from him if I had thought of it, but never dreamed 
 that I could be hungry again or ever have need to ride 
 any more. I remained all that day and night, sleep- 
 ing in swarms of mosquitoes on the wharf boat, and 
 the next day, without anything to eat — I did not have 
 the courage to beg. That was the only quality of the 
 tramp that I had not learned; but I learned the art 
 later. 
 
 About 2 o'clock the 2nd day I went to the hotel in- 
 tending to ask for dinner. While I was sitting there, 
 trying to work up courage enough to approach the 
 clerk, I heard a boat coming down and hastened away 
 and boarded the steamer, H. D. Mears. As she was pull- 
 ing off, I approached the Captain and showed him my 
 paper from General Thompson. 
 
 He made the atmosphere blue with profanity. He 
 said it was simply absurd ; that I had forged the paper ; 
 that General Thompson would not have given me 
 that paper without giving me transportation too, he 
 almost made me believe he was right; it did seem ab- 
 surd. Then I asked him to credit me with my trans- 
 portation to Vicksburg, to give me the address of some 
 one to whom I might send the money. He replied, *T 
 would not credit my grand-mammy." 
 
 The river was high and boats could not approach 
 land. Seeing a skiff coming over from the Arkansas 
 side, from where a landing was supposed to be, think 
 ing that he was going to put me off, I approached him 
 and asked that he put me off on the Mississippi side, 
 as I was afoot. His reply was, "I am not going to put 
 you off; you can ride to if you want to." 
 
 Then he added: *'How are you going to get 
 any grub?" I was too independent to let him 
 know that I needed some just at that time. 
 Being exposed to the weather and drinking 
 Mississippi water and doing without food brought on 
 fever, which I had all the night. The next morning I 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 59 
 
 was in a desperate condition. The desire for food 
 had given place to a feeHng, that I'd as soon die as not. 
 Late in the afternoon, I began to feel a delirium steal- 
 ing over me. It seemed all like a dream to me ; could 
 not tell where I was. I had sense enough left to know 
 that the kitchen was the place to find relief, so I found 
 my way to the door, and stood there looking into the 
 face of the old negro cook, a perfect giant in appear- 
 ance. I said: "Uncle, I am on this boat without a cent 
 of money, and haven't had anything to eat for three 
 days ; I am sick and about to die." He looked me all 
 over from head to foot, then put a stool up to the 
 table and said in a commanding tone : "Set down 
 there." 
 
 I wasn't used to being ordered about by negroes that 
 way, but I took no offense on that occasion. He filled 
 a quart cup with the blacket coffee I ever saw, put 
 three tablespoonsful of sugar into it, stirred it and sal 
 it before me and said: "Drink that." I guess he 
 must have seen cases like mine before. I commenced 
 to sip the coffee, for it was too hot to drink. I shall 
 never forget that cup of coffee while I live. The very 
 first sip seemed to go to the ends of my fingers and 
 toes ; it thrilled me through and through. As I drank 
 I could not restrain my tears. When I was through, 
 in about half an hour, I was in a profuse perspiration. 
 I looked at the three large pieces of steak, as big as 
 my hand and four hot rolls, and said: "Uncle, if I 
 should eat that meat, I am sure I would die in half 
 an hour. If you have no objections I will put it in my 
 overcoat pocket and eat it at my leisure." He said: 
 "That is just the thing for you to do." Thanking him, 
 I departed, and commenced reaching in my pocket, 
 pulling off pieces of steak, chewing it and swallowing 
 the juice. I "chawed" all night, in my waking mo- 
 ments. When I went to sleep, I was chewing that 
 meat. 
 
60 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 At sun rise the next morning I found myself at 
 Vicksburg, with no fever, and as hungry as a wolf. 
 I went out like Pat, "in quest of a breakfast, for me 
 appetite." I was determined never to speak to an- 
 other man. I was like that fellow who said; "the 
 more he knew about men, the better he liked dogs." So 
 many of them did not believe my story and took it out 
 in cursing, that I was thoroughly disgusted with them. 
 Seeing the sign : "]\Irs. Roebecker, Private Boarding," 
 I took a seat in an old store nearby and watched the 
 door until all the boarders came out. How like a 
 tramp! I approached the door and was received gra- 
 ciously by the kind old lady, who gave me a good 
 breakfast. When she asked me how I w^as going to 
 get home, I replied, "I am going to walk." She pro- 
 tested, "No, don't do anything of the kind. Go up and 
 
 see Mr. , the superintendent of the 
 
 railroad. He is a kind, nice gentleman, and I am sure 
 he will help you on your way." I plucked up cour- 
 age enough to speak to the Superintendent, and found 
 him just as the lady said. 
 
 A perfect gentleman, who believed me. He said: 
 "Of course, my son, I wnll give you a ticket, 
 sign this due bill, and we will send it over to our agent, 
 Dr. Watts at Newton Station, and your people can 
 pay it when you get home." I shall never forget his 
 kindly expression, and the effect it had on me. My 
 tears are not usually very shallow, but kindness al- 
 ways humbles me and brings tears. I got aboard 
 the train and, in a little while fell asleep. I slept all 
 the afternoon. Don't remember passing Brandon or 
 Jackson or any place. 
 
 xA.bout ten o'clock at night some soldiers came in 
 the crowded train. One took a seat in the aisle on 
 his knap-sack right by me. I said, "How far is to 
 New^ton?" He said, "Ten miles." After a while I 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 61 
 
 heard the brakeman call out "Chunky Station." I said : 
 "How far is it from Newton now?" He said: 
 "Why, fellow it is 20 miles, you have passed Newton." 
 
 By the time I got myself together, the train was un- 
 der way again, so I remained seated until I got to 
 Meridian. I remembered that Meridian was just 
 above Enterprise, and there I knew one man. Seeing 
 a train on the M. «&; O. just ready to start for Mobile, 
 I made a rush and got aboard, taking my seat 
 among a lot of soldiers. Presently the conductor came 
 in with his lantern, calling, "tickets," and 
 
 My troubles began again. I showed him my pa- 
 per from General Thompson, and said to him : 
 "You know Mr. Edmondson, who keeps the hotel 
 at Enterprise, I hired a horse and buggy from 
 him two years ago to go out to Garlandsville. I am 
 sure I can get the money and leave it anywhere you 
 say, if you will let me pass on." He was another man 
 that did not attend prayer meeting. He said, "No, sir, 
 Edmondson is dead, you are lying anyhow, you get off 
 at the wood station." There was a Sergeant on 
 board, in charge of some soldiers, who took an inter- 
 est in me. He said: "Captain, I have more transpor- 
 tation than I have men ; let this man go on my trans- 
 portation." He said: "No sir, he has got to get off. He 
 is spinning a yarn. Who ever heard of a man com- 
 ing back from California without money." So I got 
 off, and when the train started, I stepped up on the 
 back platform. It was only a little while before we 
 reached Enterprise. I saw the conductor standing on 
 the platform, with his lantern, and I walked boldly 
 by him. He easily detected me, as I had on a fur cap, 
 very uncommon in the South, He said: "Are you ready 
 to pay me, sir?" I replied: "No." He said: "If you 
 are a gentleman, you will do as you said you would do. 
 Leave that money here with Mr. Jackson, who keeps 
 the eating house." I said: "I am not a gentleman 
 
62 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 now since you made me steal a ride, gentlemen don't 
 do that way." 
 
 Then he commenced cursing. I threw myself 
 back with my thumbs under my arms and said: 
 "Now, blaze away and when you think you have 
 cursed out the value of your ticket, let me know 
 and I will pass on." That was about one o'clock in 
 the morning. Presently the engineer rang his bell, 
 the Captain jumped on, shaking his fist at me as 
 the train pulled out. I responded by shaking both 
 my fists at him. Of course I was very mad while he 
 was cursing, but I was in no condition to fight. 
 
 I went to the hotel and 
 
 Registered my name like a gentleman: "W. B. 
 Crump ton, San Francisco, California." When I 
 awoke the next morning, and looked i nto a 
 glass, for the first time in six weeks, I was like Pat, 
 when he said: "Pat, is this you, or is it somebody 
 else?" I had been over the camp-fires and my face 
 was smoked and greasy, and I looked more like a 
 negro than a white man. By diligent use of soap and 
 water, I got myself clean down to my collar. I had 
 an old woolen comforter, that I had worn around my 
 neck. I turned it wrong side out, pinned it close 
 around my throat, spread it over the front 
 of my dirty shirt, buttoned my coat and, imagine 
 I made a right decent appearance. I took my seat at 
 the table, crowded with people. I have no recollec- 
 tion when anybody got up. 
 
 I came to myself when I asked for another biscuit. I 
 looked at the negroes, whose eyes were almost popping 
 out, and I realized that I was the only one at the table, 
 I looked at the astonished lady at the end of the 
 room and stammered out: "Is this Mrs. Edmondson? 
 Excuse me please, I am nearly starved." She insisted 
 on my eating more, but I didn't have the face to do it. 
 I said: "Mrs. Edmondson, do you remember a boy 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 63 
 
 coming here two years ago and hiring a horse and 
 buggy to go out to Garlandsville? She said "Yes, I 
 remember you well." I told her my story, and asked 
 her to credit me until my people could send her the 
 money, to which she readily consented. 
 
 I journeyed on for twenty-four miles and late 
 that after noon came to my brother-in-law's home. 
 They were all looking for me. I had separated at Pan- 
 ama with a man by the name of Simpson, who had 
 been a commission merchant in Mobile and I had given 
 him a letter. He went across to Aspenwall, thence to 
 Havana, and ran the blockade into Mobile. I had dis- 
 cussed with my brother, doing the same, but he ad- 
 vised very much against it. 
 
 I started from Beloit the 6th of March and reach- 
 ed home on the 23rd of April, traveling probably a 
 thousand or twelve hundred miles, much of it on foot. 
 As I spun my yarn that night around the fire-side, my 
 sister said, "Brother, why didn't you ask Mrs. Ed- 
 mondson to send you out in a buggy?" I said, "Bless 
 my life, I never thought of it until you mentioned 
 it." I had gotten so used to traveling afoot, it made 
 no difference. 
 
 It was not long before I found a recruiting officer, 
 Lieutenant John Mcintosh, and gave him my 
 name. I had a mind to join an Alabama reg- 
 iment in the Virginia army, but my people in- 
 sisted on my enlisting in a Mississippi Regi- 
 ment, so that they might more easily hear from me. 
 The Lieutenant promised me a thirty days' furlough 
 to visit my Alabama kin, as soon as I enlisted at 
 Columbus. Some day when the birds are singing and 
 my children's children are behaving nicely, I may 
 take the time to write out another story about. "What 
 the Boy Saw After He Got Through the Lines to the 
 Confederacy," you may depend upon it, he saw sights. 
 
Part Three 
 PERIOD OF THE CIVIL WAR 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 On my return from California, after telling my peo- 
 ple about my ups and downs in getting through the 
 Lines, I announced it as my purpose, some day, when 
 I got old, with little else to do and feeling good some 
 fine morning, in the spring of the year, when the birds 
 were singing, the flowers blooming and my children's 
 children were behaving nicely, to begin the story of 
 
 "What the Boy Saw After He Got Through 
 the Lines to the Confederacy." On December 
 20, 1917, when the flowers are not blooming 
 and the birds are not singing and my children's 
 children are not near me, I begin the promised task. 
 
 In the home of John D. Hardy, near Garlandsville, 
 I found my sister Janie and my old Father. They 
 were all very proud of the baby boy and expected 
 great things of him. I was just past twenty and as 
 eager to get into the fray as ever a boy was to get 
 off on a fishing trip. 
 
 I remained only two weeks with my kin. My 
 old father took me in his buggy to the railroad at New- 
 ton. That nine miles ride he improved to give some 
 wholesome advice to his boy. Boys have a hateful 
 way of listening, that leaves the adviser wholly in the 
 dark as to what impression, if any, has been made. 
 But my father's advice was not lost on me, though I 
 was as dumb as an oyster while he talked. The first 
 company that went from Jasper County was named : 
 "The Jasper Rifles." They were captured at Fort 
 Donelson. (I saw them in Camp Douglas and spent 
 a day with them.) The Company I joined, as if there 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 65 
 
 was blood in their eyes over the capture of their fel- 
 low countians, took the name of: "The Jasper Aven- 
 gers." But all the high sounding names were swept 
 away as soon as we went into a Regiment. We be- 
 came : "Company H" of the 37th Mississippi Infantry." 
 
 Frank Loper was our Captain, Pierce English, John 
 Mcintosh and William Hardy were the Lieutenants. 
 MrLane, a Presbyterian preacher, was our Colonel and 
 Holland our Lieutenant Colonel. The Colonel was 
 soon killed and Holland succeeded him. 
 
 I suppose the first Regiments enlisted, were made up 
 almost entirely of young men, not so with those who 
 went out later. Probably two-thirds of my Regiment 
 were settled men, most of them married, some of them 
 forty or fifty years of age. Officers and men fra- 
 ternized, while off duty, in the most familiar way. I 
 was in a mess with three lieutenants, several ser- 
 geants and seven privates. On May 9th, 1862, 
 I reached Columbus^ Miss., the camp of instruction. 
 Getting off the train early in the morning, marching 
 through the town, I was startled to hear from the 
 third story window of a brick building: "Hello Crump." 
 It proved to be the voice of old Ike Reeder, the Fed- 
 eral prisoner I had seen in Caster River bottom in 
 Missouri a few weeks before, of whom I have spoken. 
 The first military service I rendered was to walk up 
 and down the hall, guarding old Ike and a lot of pris- 
 oners. 
 
 An oath must be taken to become a soldier. The 
 boys said, the one I signed required that I fight for 
 the Confederacy "99 years or the war." I didn't read 
 it, but a boy who had come as far as I had and suffered 
 as much, would have signed anything to get in the 
 fight. 
 
 Lieutenant Mcintosh had promised me a thirty 
 days' furlough, as soon as I should enlist, to go to 
 Alabama and visit my kin. When asked if I wanted 
 
66 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 the furlough, I repHed : "No, I am afraid the Regiment 
 might get into a fight while I am gone, or the war 
 might be over." Never again did I hear a furlough 
 mentioned for me, except when I was wounded. 
 
 The ink had hardly dried under my pen before they 
 began the process of making a soldier of me. 
 Half a dozen of us, who had come in the same day, 
 were put in charge of a small, red-headed fellow, 
 younger than any of us, a private, who had a little 
 training, quite enough to teach us. We were marched 
 down by the side of the river for our first lesson. 
 
 "The Position of a Soldier," was the first thing to 
 learn. As I remember it now, it was about this : 
 "Head erect, eyes front, shoulders thrown back, heels 
 together and the little finger on the seam of the pants. 
 
 The next was, "Always step off. on the right foot." 
 
 Next we were to be initiated into 
 
 The Mysteries of: "Marking Time." 
 
 Finally the command came: "Mark Time!" There 
 we stood for an hour, lifting up one foot and putting 
 down the other. It quickly became monotonous to 
 me and seemed utterly absurd. I had thought that 
 the thing of getting into the war was, to get in sight 
 of the enemy, as soon as you were sure you had enough 
 men, give each man plenty of ammunition and let him 
 go to shooting. 
 
 Thus, "the awkward squad," as they called us, was 
 broken in. Day after day, week in and week out, we 
 drilled — sometimes until it looked like we would die. 
 I was not long in learning the value of the drill. "Obey 
 orders," is probably the greatest lesson for one to 
 learn. The command may come from a mere strip- 
 ling and he red-headed, he is in command and must 
 be obeyed. 
 
 When Fort Sumter was fired on in Charleston Har- 
 bor, April 12th, 1861, The Civil War Was On. I was 
 more than a year late getting in. The Yan- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 67 
 
 kees had made great progress in opening and taking 
 possession of the Mississippi valley. 
 
 Fort Henry on the Tennessee and Fort Donaldson on 
 the Cumberland, had been taken, Nashville was in 
 their hands, so was Island No. 10 in the Mississippi, the 
 battle of Shiloh had been fought and won, one day by 
 the Confederates and lost on the next day. At the 
 other end of the Mississippi, New Orleans had fallen 
 into the hands of the enemy. His object, now clearly 
 seen, to divide the Confederacy by taking possession 
 of the great river, had been practically accomplished. 
 
 We were two months in camp of instruction at Co- 
 lumbus, then moved to Tupelo, probably in Au- 
 gust, where for want of sanitation, disentery 
 and fever turned the camp into a hospital. My Regi- 
 ment was made up almost entirely of men from the 
 country, who had never had the contagious diseases 
 common to children. It was pitiable to see giant- 
 framed men go down under children's diseases. Many 
 who did not die, became invalids for life. Fortunately 
 for me, I'd had all the diseases and had a great op- 
 portunity to make a reputation for myself as a nurse. 
 
 Later in the war, this story was told: A 
 boy in a Virginia hospital said to his physician : 
 "If you are pretty sure I am not going to recover, I 
 have a last request to make. "Well, my boy," the 
 Doctor replied, "the chances are pretty slim, if you 
 have anything of importance to say, you had better 
 say it now." 
 
 Whereupon the lad replied: "Please have me sent 
 back to Tupelo, Miss., at once." 
 
 "Why, you are not a Mississippian, have you any 
 near relative there?" asked the Doctor. To which 
 he got reply: "No sir, I have no kin, don't know a 
 soul there, but I feel that I could leave the world from 
 there with fewer regrets than from any spot on the 
 earth." I have no doubt that boy recovered. 
 
68 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 That story was gotten off about every camp in the 
 South, where there was much sickness. 
 
 We were put in Herbert's (pronounced "Hebar's") 
 Brigade. He had been Colonel of the Third Louisiana 
 from New Orleans, as tough a lot of soldiers as ever 
 put on uniform. General Sterling Price of Missouri 
 was our Commander. The boys called him *'01d Pap," 
 because of his familiar way with the common soldier 
 and his fatherly care of them. He was not a graduate 
 of West Point and on that account had little standing 
 with President Jefferson Davis ; but no General was 
 more loved by his soldiers. 
 
 The first battle we were in w^as at luka, 
 Mississippi, on September 19, 1862. All the 
 young fellows of our command were as jolly a 
 set of boys as were ever in camp together. But 
 that afternoon, when we began to meet the wounded, 
 all blood-stained, and white-faced, being carried to the 
 rear, a hush fell upon us and the stoutest hearted 
 were serious. 
 
 We were put in line of battle in a wood. We 
 were expected to meet the enemy directly in front, 
 but the battle was raging on our left, apparently noth- 
 ing doing in front. Naturally, the tendency was to 
 turn in the direction of the fighting and presently we 
 were leaping over a fence into a field. Instantly we 
 were enfiladed by the enemy on our right, the same 
 we were expected to attack. An order came at once 
 to fall back, which we were quick to do. Once across 
 the fence into the woods, the stampede was not halted 
 under a quarter of a mile. At dark we were moved, 
 deployed as skirmishers right among the dead and 
 wounded. I sat on the end of a litter and my com- 
 rade on the other, between us lay the dead body of a 
 Federal soldier. In twenty feet of us were poor fel- 
 lows calling their companions to bring them water. 
 The night was pitch dark, we could hear them talking 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 69 
 
 in bated breath when the water was brought. Before 
 day we received an order to quietly retire, which we 
 did, to find the army had retreated and we were the 
 rear guard. 
 
 Probably this was the greatest disappointment to 
 Old Pap. He had gone to bed expecting to renew 
 the fight at daylight, but all his Generals were against 
 him and favored a retreat, because as they said, Ros- 
 encrantz was advancing with two divisions against our 
 13,000. Another heart-breaker for General Price was 
 to see General Little, a brave Missourian, shot down 
 the day before by a bullet through his brain. 
 
 After sunrise the cavalry became the rear guard 
 and my regiment was told to double-quick and catch 
 up with the army, now miles ahead. We passed where 
 they were fixing an ambuscade. We trotted along 
 four miles further, when passing through a dense 
 swamp, some fellow remarked that it would be a fine 
 place for the Yankees to ambuscade us. Crossing a 
 puncheon bridge, just behind us was a wagon loaded 
 with long planks reaching out behind. When 
 the bridge was reached, the planks began to slap to- 
 gether, sounding much like the clatter of musketry. 
 Just then, the cannon, far in our rear, began to fire. 
 Some one shouted, "ambuscade." I thought it was 
 right there. I leaped over a fence and split the broom 
 sedge for a quarter of a mile before I could stop my- 
 self. When I did stop, I heard behind me the wagons 
 crossing that bridge and fifty yards in my front the 
 army was passing quietly along. The road had made 
 a circuit around the field and my panic had saved me 
 about a mile. I had played the coward and was aw- 
 fully afraid some of the boys had seen me jump the 
 fence. I picked myself up, walked leisurely down by 
 the side of the road, leaned my gun against a tree and 
 waited for my regiment to come up. The Lieutenant 
 
70 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Colonel was the first to call out: "Hey Crump, what 
 are you doing here?" I replied, 
 
 "I made a cut off." When my company came 
 up, it looked like every mouth expressed the same 
 word when they yelled, ''How did you get ahead? 
 I calmly replied, "I made a cut off.' Never, until 
 the war was nearly over, did I dare tell about my 
 stampede. If they had found it out before, there 
 would have been no living with them. 
 
 A little later, our forces were in a fight at Corinth 
 in which they were worsted. All the Mississippi river 
 was soon in hands of the enemy, except Port Hudson 
 and Vicksburg. The latter was called the Gibraltar 
 of the West. As winter came on, we were marching 
 towards Vicksburg. On the day before Christmas, a 
 very cold afternoon, we were on flat cars. My com- 
 pany was near the middle of the train. As the train 
 moved off at a station, after watering, the rope of the 
 tank was left danghng in the air. When my com- 
 pany passed under it, I reached up and gave it a jerk. 
 A stream of water as big as my leg burst out, drench- 
 ing the soldiers. To make matters worse, the rope 
 caught and the water continued to f^ow until every 
 car had passed. 
 
 I was seen to pull the rope ; if the train had stopped 
 soon, I would have been mobbed ; but fortunately it 
 was near night and not far to our destination. When 
 a rush was made by the wet soldiers after me, I was 
 off and gone a mile into the woods. Fires were soon 
 built, the boys got themselves dry, then they were 
 laughing at the joke. I made myself scarce about 
 the camp for a week until the incident was forgotten. 
 
 At Snyder's Bluff on the Yazoo river we 
 built us log cabins and wintered. In many of 
 the messes we had one or more negro ser- 
 vants. Dan Evans, one of my mess-mates, had a ser- 
 vant named Pete. I never saw a more faithful ser- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 71 
 
 vant, or a truer Christian. I developed a fondness for 
 cooking, so that job was turned over to Pete and me. 
 Bringing water and getting up fuel, belonged to the 
 others. The cook was to draw the rations and do the 
 cooking. That job kept me out of many a hard place. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 Steamboats from the Mississippi River from 
 
 above and below Vicksburg had been packed 
 away in the Yazoo River to keep them out of the 
 hands of the Yanks. The enemy, in the time of very 
 high water, undertook to cut their way through Deer 
 Creek, in light draft gunboats, into the upper Yazoo. 
 My Regiment was sent up to Greenwood to meet them. 
 We had negro guides who knew the swamp. We were 
 to go into the overflow in squads of four, a few yards 
 apart, with our guns and cartridge boxes often above 
 our heads. Not a gun was to be fired, not a word to be 
 spoken. We floundered on for hours through the 
 dense swamp, water sometimes almost to our armpits. 
 
 From a little island, a great turkey gobbler flew 
 away to the top of a pine, three hundred yards ofif. 
 John Knox said, **Wash, I am going to shoot that 
 turkey if they court marshal me for it." He took de- 
 liberate aim and the gobbler came down through the 
 boughs of the trees into the water. In a little while 
 John was back with his game. He was put under 
 arrest promptly. A little further along we found 
 the gunboats, fearing the falling water would leave 
 them stranded, had backed out towards the Missis- 
 sippi. 
 
 Returning to camp, John Knox was marcht- 
 ed up to the Colonel's tent with his turkey on 
 his shoulder and in peremptory tones, the col- 
 onel said : "John Knox, you are guilty of an of- 
 fense, the penalty for which would have been death, 
 \ 
 
72 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 if done in the presence of the enemy. Fortunately for 
 you, no enemy was found. You are commanded sir, 
 to cook that turkey, with plenty of stuffing, mixed 
 with onions and black pepper and bring one half of 
 it to this tent tomorrow at noon. You will then have 
 sentence passed upon you as the gravity of your of- 
 fense deserves." The Colonel did not crack a smile 
 nor did John, but the thousand men who had listened 
 with deepest interest, burst into the most uproarious 
 yells those old woods ever heard. A large washpot, 
 from a nearby negro quarter, was the oven in which 
 it was deliciously cooked. 
 
 We remained at Snyder's Bluff until the 18th of 
 May. General Grant, after capturing Jackson de- 
 feated our troops in a great battle at Baker's Creek 
 and was marching on Vicksburg only a few miles 
 below us. On the day named we marched into the 
 city to be very soon shut in. 
 
 The siege of Vicksburg for six weeks was a mem- 
 orable event of the war. 
 
 The process of silencing our batteries was at once 
 begun. The plan was to concentrate on one of ours, 
 a number of guns. The result was, in a little while, 
 every cannon we had was out of action. A few were 
 pulled off to be knocked down later, if they dared fire 
 a shot. 
 
 May 19th, the breastworks were stormed, on 
 the left of my Regiment's position. The Confed- 
 erates had all sorts of guns. Some had long range 
 guns, captured from the enemy, but more smooth bore 
 muskets than anything else. We were strung out, a 
 man every five feet, in the miles around the city. Some 
 of us had four or five guns each, all loaded. While 
 the battle was raging, strange to say, the enemy in 
 our front were entirely silent. This enabled us to en- 
 filade their ranks on our left. This we did to our 
 heart's delight for two hours. Towards night the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 7Z 
 
 enemy withdrew to their lines. We could see their 
 dead covering the hill sides. The weather was in- 
 tensely hot. By the 25th the dead bodies became 
 very offensive. 
 
 The Yankees sent a flag of truce asking for 
 three hours to gather up and bury their dead. 
 It was granted and we had a gala time watch- 
 ing the litter-bearers. Doubtless they had carried 
 away hundreds at night, but there were very many 
 more moved that day. This was the last assault at- 
 tempted. If they had known how thin our lines were 
 and how scarce our ammunition, a determined attack, 
 most anywhere, would have carried. That time of the 
 truce the enemy employed by their engineers in making 
 observations which enabled them to begin a systematic 
 zigzag ditching that proved our undoing. We were 
 ordered not to shoot unless attacked, as ammunition 
 was scarce, while they had orders to keep firing. We 
 found out afterwards, every sharp shooter was re- 
 quired to fire sixty rounds or more every two hours. 
 Thus our heads were kept down, and they could work 
 unimpeded night and day, bringing their lines closer 
 to ours. Later, we saw frames like well curbs go- 
 ing up in the air at high points. These were for sharp 
 shooters to pick off anyone they'd chance to see. 
 
 They zigzagged up to a point not far from 
 the Jackson Road and were undermining one of 
 our forts. From my Regiment's position we 
 could see plainly the progress of the work, by the 
 dirt they threw out. A company of us were sent there 
 to relieve those on duty at that point. We knew they 
 hadn't yet gotten under us, so a few of us, who had 
 long range guns, took advantage of a safe position be- 
 hind the fort, elevated our sights to 1500 yards and 
 watched a point, far to our left, where we could see 
 them going out after water. The most of the after- 
 noon we spent squirrel hunting, as we called it. Don't 
 
74 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 know if we hit anybody, but we'd see them run and of- 
 ten see the dust about them cut up by our bullets. 
 One night, after all of our cannons had been put out 
 of commission, we heard a boom in our rear. 
 
 It sounded like a cannon far away. Present- 
 ly we saw the fuse of a mortar shell, far up 
 in the air; "che-weet, che-weet, che-weet," it seemed 
 to say. Finally it dropped into the enemy lines. There 
 was no sleeping for us, about every thirty minutes it 
 was repeated. The Confederates, every time it ex- 
 ploded, shook the earth with their yells. All through 
 the night we could hear the rattle of the wheels of 
 artillery as the enemy collected guns at the nearest 
 point to where they supposed the mortar was. 
 
 Next morning, probably one hundred cannon, of all 
 calibres were turned loose in the direction of that 
 mortar. When night came on, the mortar spoke again 
 and for yet another night. We afterwards heard, the 
 citizens went to General Pemberton and asked him 
 to order the mortar to fire no more and it ceased. I 
 do not know if this were true, but I guess it was. 
 
 Vicksburg is built among the hills and there are 
 deep gorges where mortars like that would be hard 
 to find by the enemy's shells. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 "Grape Vine" telegraph is the soldier's most used 
 Hne. It worked beautifully for us at Vicksburg and 
 was always favorable. One day we heard, Joe John- 
 son was collecting an army to come to our rescue. 
 Later, we heard the plan contemplated, our cutting our 
 way through to meet Johnson. Sometimes it was, 
 that Lee had gained great victories in Virginia and 
 Grant was sending from our front to their relief. The 
 one most frequently heard was, that England had 
 recognized the Confederacy and would soon espouse 
 our cause. 
 
A BOOK OF AlEMORIES. 75 
 
 All the while, rations were getting short. Pea 
 bread, one third meal, was found very good when eat- 
 en warm, but ropy if taken cold. Breaking it when 
 cold, you could see threads like spider webs, when 
 put in the mouth it grew bigger and slicker as you 
 chewed. The beef issued, "Old Logan," the boys call- 
 ed the old oxen, was poor and tough, the ones that 
 looked like they'd die first were butchered first. 
 
 Finally beef gave out and the mules began to go 
 the way of Old Logan. 
 
 The Yanks had dug their ditches so close to us, we 
 could not put a picket in front of our breastworks ; 
 the sentry could only crawl on top at night and lie 
 flat with his face outward and watch them, thirty or 
 forty feet away. One clear night, one of our boys 
 heard distinctly; 
 
 "Johnny Red, Fm going to shoot right where you 
 are lying," he tumbled into the trench instantly as the 
 bullet whizzed over the spot where he had been lying. 
 There was no relief for a fellow. It was an all night 
 vigil. 
 
 Just before day on June 28th, I came off duty, 
 crawled at once into my dug-out under the breast- 
 work. It was a hole in the clay soil, just big enough 
 for a fellow to crawl in and escape the sun. My feet 
 and legs, up to my knees were outside on the bottom 
 of the trench. A bullet hit near enough to arouse me. 
 Later on, it hit the hard bottom of the trench, glanc- 
 ing, it buried itself in my heel. Ben Thompson, a big, 
 strong fellow at the lower end of the company, was 
 called to carry me out. As he was crawling up the 
 trench, on hands and knees, a bullet went through him, 
 killing him instantly. Then it was some one snatched 
 a white blanket down and there was not another 
 shot. Poor Ben died on my account. There was a 
 spot back of our breastworks, where the boys ran 
 across for water. 
 
76 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 The Yanks went squirrel hunting there, as I 
 
 had been doing a few days before for them. Bill 
 Roberson, a stout fellow, who loved me, took me on 
 his back and trotted me across the ridge. I was feel- 
 ing for a bullet in my back all the way, but I do not 
 remember if they fired, maybe it was an off time with 
 the sharpshooter. At the hospital, a doctor asked if 
 I wanted an anesthetic, but before I could answer, an 
 old Irish surgeon said, "No, this ain't no baby, you're 
 dealing with, that's nothing but a splinter, you nig- 
 ger hold that foot," and almost before I knew it, they 
 had cut down and pulled out the bullet. Bullets in 
 those days were of lead, weighing an ounce. 
 
 Back in the city I was put in a tent with a poor fel- 
 low whose leg had been shattered. It was in the 
 front yard of a great old colonial residence belonging 
 to the Fords. 
 
 The first mule beef I saw was at the hospital. 
 It seems that, before meat rations were cut 
 off to the trenches, they put aside a lot 
 of fat bacon for the hospitals. They would bring me 
 on a tin plate, a slice of fat bacon, a chunk of mule 
 beef and a pone of corn bread. Being short on appe- 
 tite, I loathed the fat bacon and took the mule — a lit- 
 tle tough and the grain coarser than old Logan, but 
 I discovered no difference in the taste. 
 
 Curious to see what the Yanks said in their histories 
 about Vicksburg, I discovered one historian said: We 
 were on the eve of mutiny when we surrendered. It 
 has been a long time since the surrender. In the course 
 of the years, I have seen and conversed with hundreds 
 of the boys that were in the siege and, not one of them 
 ever intimated that anywhere along the line was there 
 a hint of mutiny. 
 
 So Mister Yank, I believe you lied. Another yarn 
 was that 30,000 or more stands of arms of improved 
 pattern, manufactured in Europe, were captured. That 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 77 
 
 was a whopper — I had three guns, an Enfield Rifle, a 
 Mississippi Rifle and a smooth bore musket, the man 
 next to me had two muskets. I am quite sure that 
 was about the armor all the way round. If we'd had 
 the new guns, with plenty of ammunition, my, what 
 a time the Yanks would have had ! 
 
 On July the 4th the surrender came. The enemy 
 could have marched in sooner, but he preferred to 
 celebrate the 4th in the most spectacular way pos- 
 sible, this he did in truly American style. We learned 
 later that they had barrels of gun powder under every 
 fort and if we had not surrendered, they would have 
 celebrated in a very different way. We were not at 
 all cowed over the result, most of us had been feel- 
 ing, for some time, that there was no hope for us. 
 
 I was given a pair of crutches and began walking 
 a little. A day or two after, I got me down on the 
 street. While leaning against a brick wall resting, an 
 elegant lady stepped out of a carriage, asked my name 
 and after a few words, handed me 
 
 A Green back dollar bill — the first I had ever seen. 
 She was a Mrs. Davis, living somewhere back of the 
 Yankee lines and I suppose among the first civilians 
 to come into the city. That dollar, my, how good it 
 looked and how I doled it out until it was all gone ! 
 
 CHAPTER 4. 
 
 It wasn't long before preparations began to be made 
 to parole the prisoners. Every one who was supposed 
 able to walk was given a 30 days furlough and ordered 
 to report at Parole camp at Enterprise, Miss. Those 
 who were wounded, were put on great river steamers 
 and carried 
 
 Down the river to New Orleans. One nurse was pro- 
 vided for every ten men. We spread our blankets all 
 over the decks, there we slept. Reaching New Orleans 
 
78 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 on a Sunday morning, we saw across the Levee, thous- 
 ands of Southern women waving their handkerchiefs. 
 Yell ! I guess we did, until our throats were sore. 
 That infuriated the Yanks, a Regiment of whom, Cav- 
 alry from away out on the plains with their lassos, 
 were on hand. They charged in among the women 
 and children to drive them back to the walls. The two 
 or three boat loads of wounded, began hooting: 
 
 "Oh, you brave dogs! Old Beast Butler's gang!" 
 "Bring out the Beast! Sure he has been training you! 
 Come here half a dozen of you and we'll detail a man 
 with one arm to whip you." These were among the 
 harmless bullets we fired. Orders came that we must 
 hush, but there was no hush to it. Finally the enemy 
 relaxed and the women, a few at a time, began to come 
 across with their negro servants, bringing baskets, 
 filled with all sorts of good things. After awhile 
 there were thousands standing talking to the boys. 
 A few were permitted to come on the boats with deli- 
 cacies, including wine, cigars, tobacco, and pipes, 
 Down at the gangway on the lower deck, baskets full 
 of everything good were soon emptied into the sacks 
 the soldiers had gotten hold of. Of course the wound- 
 ed could get nothing. Their nurses did what they 
 could. 
 
 But they stood little show, with a lot of hospital rats, 
 mostly from Gorgy, who had played sick so as to get 
 the trip around, rather than walk through the country. 
 I sat on the banister of the upper deck, watching the 
 dirty basket-robbers. They ate like starved dogs, ev- 
 erything in sight, then brought old oat sacks full and 
 piled them on the deck. 
 
 All day that Sunday, things were happening on the 
 Levee. It was far back to the line of houses and the 
 villainous cavalry were patroling up and down, doing 
 all sorts of beastly things. Whenever a man, even a 
 very old man, would attempt to cross over to the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 79 
 
 wharf, they would pursue him and lasso him. Elegant 
 old southern gentlemen, with their beaver hats on, 
 would be knocked down. 
 
 Finally, very late in the evening, we were trans- 
 ferred to gulf steamers. As the boats pulled off we 
 cheered and the women waved their handkerchiefs, 
 it looked like a sea of handkerchiefs. The last we 
 heard, were the clatter of the horse's hoofs on the 
 Levee and the screams of the women. Our cheers 
 had aroused the ire of the Yanks and they were driv- 
 ing the women away. 
 
 "The Battle of the Handkerchiefs" was the name of 
 a poem written after this. 
 
 When I began to take my bearings on the new boat, 
 I found I was in the midst of the hospital rats. Their 
 sacks were stacked all about me. When they fell 
 asleep, my nurse provided a sack and we proceeded to 
 fill her up from neighboring sacks. 
 
 Late in the night, when we were near the mouth of 
 the Mississippi, some fellow said, "Is there anybody 
 who's been on the big waters? I hear it makes a body 
 awful sick, I wonder what a feller can do." One spoke 
 up, "Yes, I've been on the sea, there will be no trouble 
 if you fill up. It is almost certain death to a fellow 
 with an empty stomach. Eat and drink everything in 
 sight, until you're as tight as a drum." At that, they 
 aroused themselves ; already full, they began to pile 
 in more. I fell asleep after a bit. When we got out- 
 side and began to feel the swell of the gulf, I felt the 
 spray, as I thought from the wh,eel-house, coming 
 back into my face, when lo ! I looked and the Gorgy 
 gluttons lined the top of the rail in 
 
 Paying tribute to Neptune. Those that couldn't get 
 to the railing, let fly where they were. I had nobody 
 to laugh with, or I'd had some fun. I was completely 
 cut off from my crowd. About daylight I crept out, 
 found my nurse and sent him after my sack. The 
 
80 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Lone Jack smoking tobacco and the beautiful pipes, 
 the good women gave us, was the cause of my becom- 
 ing a smoker, which I kept up for many years. 
 
 Probably the greatest event in the lives of the hos- 
 pital rats was that trip from Vicksburg out of the 
 Mississippi, into Mobile Bay and up the Alabama 
 River to Montgomery. 
 
 CHAPTER 5. 
 
 I easily found friends in Mobile. 
 
 Not many days elapsed before I was on my way to 
 
 Pleasant Hill, my old stamping ground before I left 
 for California, three years before. Being a soldier 
 and wounded, I was handed 'round on a silver waiter. 
 My thirty days' furlough ran out mighty soon, it seem- 
 ed to me. I got it extended, went to see the kin in 
 Mississippi then, entered -parole camp at Enterprise. 
 In our parole, we were sworn not to bear arms again 
 until we were notified we were exchanged. To vio- 
 late that oath meant death if we were captured; but 
 it was permissible to drill and perform guard duty; 
 there would have been no holding us down, doing noth- 
 ing. I never knew why we were sent in the winter to 
 Pollard, Alabama, thence to Florida Old Town, near 
 Milton, unless there was a doubt about our having 
 been exchanged and there was little likelihood of our 
 being captured there. We relieved a lot of soldiers 
 who went to the front and 
 
 For a few months we had as fine time eating fish, 
 oysters and game as soldiers ever did have. 
 
 There were three of us, mentioned before, who gang- 
 ed together: Dan Evans, Russell Mclnnis and myself. 
 We loved music and nice girls and when we heard of 
 a girl who had a piano we would soon find our way 
 to her house. Soon after stopping in Florida 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 81 
 
 We heard of a Miss Jennie . Her 
 
 father was a great land owner and had a large herd 
 of cattle. She had been sent away and graduated at 
 a good school. Through her we made the acquaint- 
 ance of other girls at Milton five or six miles away. On 
 preaching days we'd walk by, get Miss Jennie, pick up 
 another girl or two en route and spend the day at 
 Milton, walking back in the afternoon. Finally, my 
 company was moved to Milton and quartered in the 
 hotel. 
 
 Dan Evans and I, they said, were very much alike 
 — hard to tell apart, but Dan was pious — while I, not 
 the worst boy in the world, had some fun as I went 
 along. Mclnnis had lived in New Orleans and I had 
 traveled much and we knew the ways of the world. 
 He and I made it up, we'd write to our sisters that we 
 were going to marry Miss Jennie. We knew we 
 couldn't rope Dan in, but we made him promise to say 
 nothing. So Mclnnis, who was his cousin, wrote Dan's 
 sisters that their brother was going to marry Miss Jen- 
 nie, that he was afraid to write home about it, but he 
 (Mclnnis) knew it was so and he and Wash Crumpton 
 were to be his waiters at the wedding. Mclnnis wrote 
 his sister the same story about himself, and I wrote 
 mine, all giving the same girl's name. So the word went 
 out over two or three counties in Mississippi. "What a 
 pity for the poor foolish boys to marry and in just a 
 little while be moved away," was the remark of every- 
 body. My sisters lived a few miles from Dan's, and 
 Mclnnis' sister lived in another county. One 
 Sunday my sister went on horseback to old Beth- 
 el Church, not far from Dan's home. His sisters were 
 out and naturally they began talking about the broth- 
 ers and the approaching marriages. When they be- 
 gan to compare notes, they found it was to the same 
 girl. Then the fun was on. When news got back to 
 the camp we were hailed as promoters of the 
 
82 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Greatest fake ever pulled off in old Mississippi. We 
 had to exonerate Dan, but he had to own up he play- 
 ed a part. The fine young woman never did hear of 
 the joke. 
 
 But our days of joy were over. We'd had about 
 two months of pleasure, nothing to do but play sol- 
 dier. We wandered over the pine woods, fished and 
 hunted and called on the girls. Those vast forests are 
 no more and the thin sandy land, we regarded as val- 
 ueless, is now commanding great prices. 
 
 We were inarched to Pollard, put aboard trains of 
 flat cars and started for Georgia. It was slow run- 
 ning, I do not know how long we were in going, but 
 at last we debarked at Resaca, Ga. North of there, at 
 Dalton, the enemy were starting the great drive for 
 the sea. In a couple of days they had flanked our 
 army out of Dalton and 
 
 Were approaching Resaca. I was given three men 
 and sent up the valley to an old tobacco house with in- 
 structions to stay there until ordered away. My 
 Regiment was soon engaged south of us in a battle. 
 After a time we could see the Yanks' skirmishers a 
 mile away in the road leading our way. We climbed 
 on top of the house so we could see better. Presently 
 bullets began to whiz past us and we came to earth, 
 to find an Alabama Regiment, which had never seen 
 service, had taken position behind us and in their ex- 
 citement they were firing on us. Of course, I took it 
 that we were relieved and towards night marched into 
 camp. Meantime our boys had been in a stiff engage- 
 ment and driven back, 
 
 Leaving a mess-mate wounded on the field. Poor 
 Duffie ! As the night wore on, we could hear him 
 calling. He called every member of the mess. We 
 organized to go after him, but were not allowed. 
 Truth was, as we found next morning, the Yanks had 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 83 
 
 left the field and he was found shot through his thigh 
 and had bled to death. 
 
 Later in the day my Regiment was detailed to go 
 ahead to put the roads in order for the army as it re- 
 tired. Sherman's plan was to flank us out of every 
 position. This he could easily do as he had great 
 hordes of cavalry and I suppose three men to our one. 
 This plan was successfully followed to the end. 
 Many fights on the retreat, we were kept out of, by 
 this detail to work the road. 
 
 CHAPTER 6. 
 
 At Cedar Town a General and his staff, stopped 
 near us and 
 
 I learned it was General John Killy. He was a 
 
 young man, step grandson of Colonel Dick Hawthorn 
 of Pine Apple. He and I were in school together. I 
 approached him, made myself known and was gra- 
 ciously received. He had his orderly to take my name 
 and address and insisted I should come to his camp 
 the first chance. He was a Cavalry General and was 
 pretty soon after this killed in Tennessee. Somewhere 
 along here I took sick and was sent to LaGrange to 
 the hospital. I got back to the Regiment later at New 
 Hope Church. 
 
 One night, a great detail was called from my Regi- 
 ment with axes. Just at dark we received orders to 
 begin to cut down trees and raise the biggest hulla- 
 ballue possible. In the midst of the sound of the axes, 
 there was yelling, the falling of trees, the gleam of 
 big fires and the band playing. The army was on the 
 retreat and we were the rear guard, keeping up a 
 show of things until it should get away. After mid- 
 night we slipped away. 
 
 The night of the Fourth of June! Who that was 
 there can ever forget it? It rained a slow, steady 
 
84 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 rain the live long night, as it had been doing some 
 days before. We were soon in touch with the re- 
 treating army. The mud was knee deep in places. 
 Every wagon and cannon seemed to stall at every 
 mudhole and had to be rolled out by hand. This, of 
 course, stopped the infantry. It was only four miles 
 to Lost Mountain, the next stoj:), but it took the whole 
 night. Sometimes we'd move ten feet then stop ten 
 or fifteen minutes, or even longer. Nothing could be 
 more wearying and exasperating. 
 
 The Atlanta women had sent out tracts for the 
 soldiers. I got hold of one, "How to Preserve the 
 Health in the Army." Among other things, it sug- 
 gested, *'When on the march and a halt comes, lay 
 down and if possible sleep — your stay may be five min- 
 utes, or half an hour." I got that rule down pat. I'd 
 tell the boys, as I tumbled down, to wake me, but gen- 
 erally it was unnecessary as I'd hear their slush in the 
 mud when they'd started. In that way I slept most of 
 the night. The next morning, I was as bright as a 
 dollar, but my companions were the most woe-begone 
 creatures you ever saw. There, I learned to sleep on 
 short notice and it has been of untold value to me. 
 
 That morning, about the second time in all my 
 knowledge, they 
 
 Issued a ration of Liquor, or as the boys called it, 
 "Pine Top." I swapped mine for tobacco. 
 
 Joe Johnston's plan seemed to be to fall back a few 
 miles, and form a "streak-of-fight," as the boys called 
 it. The enemy, of course, must readjust his lines — that 
 would often take some days. Meantime, Old Joe's men 
 were coming up from the rear, from the hospitals, from 
 furloughs and from other positions — not a thing was 
 left behind. Some one said, "Old Joe is going to 
 move tonight," "No," said another, "he may go to- 
 morrow night, but I saw a wagon broken down and 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 85 
 
 the blacksmiths had just gotten there. We'll not go 
 until that wagon is fixed." 
 
 While building breastworks on Lost Mountain, I 
 went, between reliefs, to the top and saw General Le- 
 onidas Pope with his staff making observations 
 through their glasses. Across the valley, the Yan- 
 kees seemed to be planting a battery. Just as I got 
 back, I heard a shell explode on the top of the moun- 
 tain. It was the first shell from the Yankee battery 
 and 
 
 It killed General Pope. He was a good man, great- 
 ly beloved by all his men. He was a Bishop in the 
 Episcopal church. 
 
 Only a few days later, we were in a splendid line on 
 Big Kennesaw. My Regiment was at the highest 
 point. Immense rocks crowned the top. In con- 
 structing the ditches, a great rock, probably fifty feet 
 across, was encountered and a gap had to be left. 
 Being the middle company, the color guard was next 
 to us. 
 
 The gap and the Regimental colors, seemed to be 
 the center of the enemy's fire. Sometimes a dozen 
 shells came at once, exploding at the great rocks in 
 our rear, sending back, down the steep incline, pieces 
 of shell and fragments of rock. Our time was mostly 
 occupied in stopping these before they rolled in on us. 
 One day when the Yanks seemed most vicious, one big 
 shell burst exactly in the gap. After each explosion, 
 when the danger was passed, we'd have a laugh at 
 some incident that occurred. On the occasion I am 
 speaking of, observing a red spot on a comrade's light 
 colored hat, I said in jest, "Bill Nick is mighty nigh 
 scared to death, he is sweating blood." 
 
 Lifting his hat, a handful of brains fell to the ground. 
 Captain Richardson, the officer of the day, had just 
 passed and stopped for a moment on the rock in the 
 
86 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 gap. The shell had torn his head completely off. He 
 was a noble man, a brave officer, and a Presbyterian 
 preacher. I never saw the spirit of men so complete- 
 ly broken. If we could have gone at the enemy, we 
 would have given a good account of ourselves ; but 
 cooped up, on top of the mountain, unable to do a 
 thing, but wait and be slaughtered — it was a great 
 relief to retire that night through Marietta. 
 
 The Chattahoochee river was not far away. As we 
 crossed the boys said, as they had said many times 
 before, "Old Joe is going to cross this river and then 
 make his stand." But we went until we were in the 
 suburbs of Atlanta. 
 
 Then rumors began to reach us that Johnson had 
 informed the war department at Richmond, Atlanta 
 could not be defended, if the army was saved, it must 
 be evacuated. Johnson was relieved and Hood put 
 in charge. 
 
 On the 20th of July, the battle of Peach Tree Creek 
 was fought. We took the Yanks in our front en- 
 tirely by surprise, they were mostly foreigners who 
 couldn't speak English. They threw down their guns 
 and surrendered in droves and, that was our undoing. 
 Too many of our fellows were willing to carry pris- 
 oners to the rear. There was no reserve line to carry 
 on the victory. Stones Brigade on our right had to 
 come up through an old field, facing a battery of 
 four guns and were unsuccessful. Lieutenant Pierce 
 English, gun in hand, with three of us, found ourselves 
 on a hill, rather behind the battery on our right, which 
 was firing on Stone's Brigade. We had used up all 
 our ammunition ; we picked up Yankee cartridge box- 
 es, which strewed the ground. Their guns carried a 
 ball about two calibers smaller than ours. We aban- 
 doned the slow method of drawing the rammer to load. 
 We tore the cartridge, placed it in the muzzle, stam- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 87 
 
 ped the breech on the ground ; the weight of the 
 bullet carried the cartridge home, and we had only 
 to cap and fire. It was almost like a repeating rifle. 
 
 For an hour we went "squirred hunting/' There 
 seemed to be no danger in our front. The Yanks had 
 continued their flight we thought, to the river. We 
 fired on the battery to our right so fast, they almost 
 ceased firing. They turned a gun on us, but fired only 
 one time. Probably they were short of ammunition, 
 for the caissons were being rushed forward as fast as 
 the horses could carry them, but we shot the horses 
 down. 
 
 Old Bill Nicholson, one of our party, had been a 
 Texas Ranger. Returning to Mississippi, his native 
 State, he enlisted, though he had a leg stifif from rheu- 
 matism — that was no bar to service in those days. He 
 brought with him from Texas an old six shooter, 
 which he buckled around him. It was the joke of the 
 company when Nick, every few weeks, went out into 
 the bushes, tried his pistol at a tree, then for a couple 
 of hours cleaned and reloaded it. There were no pis- 
 tol cartridges in those days, and loading was a slow 
 process. He had never found use for it, but he said the 
 time would come. He was the only man in the com- 
 pany who had a revolver. On the occasion to which 
 I refer, Bill said to the Lieutenant, "Pierce, kill that 
 Yankee." It so happened that not a gun was loaded 
 and Bill had forgotten his pistol. Perhaps the Yank's 
 gun was empty too, for we saw him twenty steps away 
 dodge into the bushes. A hasty counsel was held and 
 we decided they were returning and we'd better get 
 out. What had become of the balance of our forces 
 we did not know. With our guns all loaded, 
 
 We started out the way we came in. On rising a 
 very steep hill in the woods we saw, fifty yards away, 
 the woods black with Yankees. They had dropped 
 
88 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 in behind us, but with no idea there was danger 
 from that direction, they were looking to their front. 
 We all fired into the thickest bunch of them, then 
 fairly rolled down the steep hillside. Three of us rush- 
 ed down a ravine and after passing a spur went up an- 
 other ravine. Poor old Bill Nick, went across the spur 
 and we gave him up as lost. 
 
 We saw General Walthall, our Division Com- 
 mander, and staff riding leisurely down the 
 road. I shouted to him, telling of his danger. 
 One of his party came galloping saying, "Go back to 
 the front you stragglers." With that our Lieuten- 
 ant walked away. Demanding that we should go back, 
 I remarked, I'd speak to the General. When he came 
 up, in a few words I told him Stone's Brigade hadn't 
 come up, that the Yanks were only a little way down 
 the road. On his expressing great doubt saying, "We 
 certainly carried everything," the smart Alex of an 
 aide shouted out, as he galloped off, "I'll see." A 
 short distance away he wheeled his horse and a hun- 
 dred bullets flew through the woods in his direction. 
 In the middle of the road there was a brass cannon 
 left by some one. The General said, "You two men 
 remain right here by this gun and when I send you a 
 force, pilot them to that hill you were on." My com- 
 panion was 
 
 "Chunky" Thompson, called that because he was not 
 chunky. He was as slim as a rail and probably six feet 
 and a half tall. We looked at the gun and found it 
 loaded, but how to shoot it, we did not know. Finally, 
 however, we thought we knew and were determined 
 we'd fire it, if the Yanks came. 
 
 After a time the Forty-fifth Arkansas came, a very 
 small number of men. Later another bunch — prob- 
 ably 500 gathered at last. 
 
 Then came a Senior Colonel, drunk as a fool. I'll 
 not mention his name, because of subsequent history. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 89 
 
 He called for the men, General Walthall left there. He 
 wanted to know the direction to the hill, from which 
 we had been driven. I pointed the direction and sug- 
 gested modestly, that my companion and I, with a few 
 others should act as skirmishers, for there was no 
 telling what changes had occurred. He cursed me 
 and told me he was capable of running that business. 
 After a time, in the wildest confusion, we were at the 
 bottom of the hill. I said, 
 
 "There's the hill, Colonel, I can't tell you what's on 
 top." He ordered the charge. When within twenty 
 or thirty steps of the top, a solid blue line of Yankees 
 rose up. At the first fire, half of our men fell. I 
 fired my gun, then attempted to load it, lying down. 
 It had been fired so much, it had gotten cold and clog- 
 ged ; the bullet hung half way down. Standing half 
 bent, trying to ram the bullet home, the gun was 
 shot out of my hand, the stock literally torn to splint- 
 ers. Fortunately, some of us escaped, the Yanks firing 
 down hill, as is most generally the case, over shot us. 
 
 Drunkenness and foolhardiness had lost half 
 our men. Getting back to camp that night we 
 talked of the doings of the day. How we talked 
 of poor old Bill Nick ! We mourned him as dead, when 
 about ten o'clock, he limped into camp with his empty 
 pistol strapped about him. When asked about it, he 
 said: "They tried to kill me by shooting at me, and 
 I don't see how they missed me. Then they under- 
 took to run me down and I got five of them with my 
 revolver." Think of the weary marches for two years, 
 loaded down, as he was, he clung to the old Texas 
 weapon saying, "Some day I'll need it," and that day 
 had come ! 
 
 Of course the common soldier didn't know, but 
 certain we were, with a fresh column to have 
 followed up the drive, the results would have 
 been a complete victory, for there was little fight 
 
90 A BOOK OF MEAIORIES. 
 
 in the enemy. I am certain many of them did not 
 stop until the Chattahoochee was reached. Our men 
 were cast down because of the removal of Joe John- 
 son, the loved commander. 
 
 On the 22nd of July to our right, Hardies' men 
 fought, when General McPherson of the Federal army 
 was killed. On the morning of the 28th, John Knox and 
 I started out to find some vegetables. We were burn- 
 ed out on bacon and Corn bread. In some of the de- 
 serted gardens in Atlanta, where army horses were 
 corralled, we found a few small Irish potatoes, some 
 collard sprouts, a few peas ; they filled my haversack. 
 We were happy over the prospect of vegetable soup 
 for dinner. 
 
 But just as we reached camp the bugle sounded, we 
 fell in and were marched rapidly to the left. Formed 
 in line of battle, we were ordered to advance. We heard 
 no firing in front, we saw no skirmishers. Descend- 
 ing a hill, we were fired upon by infantry, scarce sixty 
 yards away behind breast works and old buildings. 
 Large numbers of our men fell at the first fire, bul- 
 lets coming from several directions. I fell behind a 
 log, but before I fired a shot, I was struck on the hip 
 bone, the bullet's passage, much weakened by going 
 between the log and a rail that lay on the top. We 
 retired not in good order — fact is, when I found I 
 had the full use of my leg, I made good time getting 
 away. 
 
 Bullets from three directions plowed the ground 
 like great worms in the earth. Getting out, I went 
 to the field hospital, but didn't report to the surgeons 
 as my wound was only a great bruise, which passed 
 away in about a week. 
 
 I got a fellow that night, who had a piece of meat, 
 to make us some vegetable soup. It was a sad meal, 
 for poor John Knox my chum was killed in the first 
 fire ; a bullet passing through his head. My old hav- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 91 
 
 ersack, so full of vegetables that it bulged, had a half 
 dozen holes through it. 
 
 For ten days my body was sore from the passage 
 of bullets, some through my clothing and some that 
 barely made my clothes threadbare as they passed, 
 but leaving a sore place on the flesh as if scorched by 
 fire. My case knife turned two bullets off me and my 
 tube wrench and screw driver in my cartridge box, was 
 broken by another. I have the knife and screw-driver 
 now. I had the bullet too, which I found in the in- 
 side pocket of a second pair of pants, but I lost it in 
 the changes of the years. 
 
 In telling this I am always reminded of 
 
 Pat, of the Federal Army, at Bull Run. Someone 
 protested, "Pat, you didn't run did you? The reply 
 was, "Faith, and them as didn't run, are there yit." 
 
 I never have know^n what to call this battle, for I 
 have never read any of the histories, but from some- 
 where the name of the "Poor House" is associated 
 with it. 
 
 It was a new thing, we were attacking. Three bat- 
 tles within a week were making things interesting, 
 but unfortunately we gained nothing. Sherman be- 
 gan again the tactics, so successfully carried out for 
 two months, of flanking us out. 
 
 In a few days I took dysentery and fever and w£s 
 sent to a hospital in the southern part of the city. I 
 was desperately ill, delirious at night and mind flighty 
 in day time. About the middle of an afternoon, a 
 physician and nurse came. Examination was made 
 and the doctor would give some word to the nurse 
 who would write it down. I thought I heard him 
 say, after my examination, "He must stay." I wasn't 
 certain, but gave good heed when he spoke the word 
 at the next cot. 
 
 The words got on my nerves. I began to think of a 
 retreat, I raised up in my cot and out through the 
 
92 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 door, I could see troops and wagons going south. Un- 
 til near dark, I kept observing and became assured 
 that the retreat was on and I was marked to remain. 
 My mind was hazy, but I got my clothes on. They 
 were not much, only two pairs of pants and two shirts 
 and a dilapidated pair of shoes. We had discarded 
 knapsacks long ago. These on, with canteen and emp- 
 ty haversack in hand, I walked out. I hesitated, I 
 doubted if I could get down to the road. Just then 
 a bright light lit up the heavens and explosions oc- 
 curred that shook the earth. Then I knew the gov- 
 ernment property was being burned. 
 
 That put ginger in my bones and I lit out. I drank 
 liberally at a stream and passed on. I was sure I 
 was lost for nobody passed me. The truth was, 
 the whole army was ahead of me. I kept noticing 
 something white in the road. Presently I reached 
 for it, when lo, it was a "Yankee hard tack." I was 
 ravenously fond of them and began to eat as I walked. 
 During the night I filled my haversack and I suspect I 
 ate almost as many more. I broke out in a profuse 
 perspiration and was sure my fever was going. My 
 surmise was that we had captured stores from the 
 Yanks up the State somewhere and one of the wag- 
 ons had a box, which jolted the crackers through a 
 hole in the box. It was another case of the raven 
 ministering to God's servants, only I wasn't much 
 of a servant, but 
 
 As sure as you live, God was my friend and was sav- 
 ing me for a purpose. I found after many trials, dry 
 crackers are fine for disordered bowels. To their 
 great surprise and my great joy, I reached my com- 
 mand next morning at breakfast. The battle of 
 Jonesboro had been fought just the day before, a lit- 
 tle south of where we were. 
 
 In a very few days the word passed along. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 93 
 
 "We are going to Tennessee." The words were 
 like magic. Hood was forgiven, Johnson was for- 
 gotten and a memorable march began. The idea was 
 to drop in behind Sherman, destroy the railroad, cut- 
 ting him off from his store of supplies at Nashville, 
 "and" **and" — I can't begin to tell all the movement 
 meant to him. Little did we think he had left an 
 army behind competent to handle us, and he'd make 
 a break through the pine forests of Georgia for Sa- 
 vannah. But so it turned out. However, we had a 
 high old time destroying the railroad north of Atlanta, 
 right along where we retreated a few weeks before. 
 We passed through Rome, Gadsden, Attalla, and up 
 Sand Mountain. We saw but one house all the day 
 long on the lonely mountain road. Little did any 
 of us believe that it would become thickly settled 
 and a most prosperous part of Alabama, but so it has 
 become. 
 
 In a day or two, we approached Decatur. We were 
 told it was strongly fortified and we found it true. I 
 suppose, a demonstration was to be made there, 
 while the army was marching west to cross the Ten- 
 nessee at Florence. 
 
 One of the densest fogs I ever saw prevailed the 
 morning after we arrived at what is now called, East 
 Decatur. I was put in charge of three men, fifteen or 
 twenty feet away was another squad. One was to 
 go in front of his squad and when he had approached 
 as near the breastworks as he dared, he was to give 
 the signal and the three men armed, with pick and 
 spade besides their guns, were to go to digging for 
 their lives. 
 
 When I got near enough to easily distinguish voices, 
 I gave the signal and then the dirt flew. The Yanks 
 were busy eating their breakfast. This was in old De- 
 catur. All of a sudden, the fog lifted, and there we 
 were, in twenty steps of a splendid line of breastworks. 
 
94 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 We made a break across an open field for the woods, a 
 mile away. We left a line of tools, probably a mile 
 long. It seemed to me I never ran as slowly in my life 
 and strange to say, the Yanks were not firing on us ; 
 truth was they hadn't seen us. We had gone half the 
 distance, when the whiz and zip of the bullets made it 
 interesting. There must have been a thousand shots 
 fired, but not a man was hit. The man who gave that 
 order, ought to have been in a lunatic asylum, or in 
 prison. But the other side had some fools too. With a 
 Regiment or two we could have captured the whole 
 force, that foggy morning, almost without firing a gun. 
 No sentinels or pickets out, everybody feeling safe 
 behind their magnificent breastworks. 
 
 CHAPTER 7. 
 
 The two days march down the railroad to Tuscum- 
 bia impressed me with the beauty of the Tennessee 
 valley and the picture has remained with me. But 
 for the great plantations, the thriftless tenants and 
 absentee landlords, it could be made to flourish as 
 the garden of the Lord. 
 
 Just above where the bridge at Florence is, 
 we encamped. I bought from one of Forest's 
 teamsters a pair of shoes, I will never forget. 
 Coming dowm to the great pontoon, the teams would 
 stop, so that only a few wagons should be on the 
 bridge at once. I had worn out my shoes, had only 
 the soles strapped on my feet. A Yank transport had 
 been captured by the cavalry and these wagons were 
 full of army supplies from the boat. Some of the 
 drivers had slipped a few pairs of shoes. They'd swear 
 they didn't have a pair; but another tale would be 
 told for their price. 
 
 I stood in the mud that November night, until nearly 
 dark, trying to make a trade. Finally a fellow of- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 95 
 
 fered me a pair of number tens for $30.00, I wore 
 eights, but it looked like I'd start into Tennessee next 
 day practically barefooted, so I forked over the money. 
 Those Yankee Shoes ! They looked like flat boats with 
 their great square toes. There was fun in my mess 
 when I began to fix up for the next day's travel. 
 The Confederate pants were big-legged; stand- 
 ing before the fires I had scorched mine behind 
 and they had raveled out nearly to the knees. I wrap- 
 ped the flaps about my legs, tied strings around, put 
 on my shoes, stuffiing old rags in to fill up. My legs 
 were like the young soldier today with their puttees 
 (I invented the puttees,) — I slept with my shoes on 
 that night. 
 
 Crossing the seven hundred yards pontoon next day, 
 single file, we were much scattered and had to double- 
 quick to catch up. 
 
 One thing I always went wild about, a girl jmd a 
 white handkerchief. Passing the Presbyterian Col- 
 lege, the girls were out in full force, waving. I see 
 myself, cap in one hand, gun in the other, yelling at 
 at top of my voice and trotting in my number tens. 
 Those shoes were a wonder ! they'd go out of the road 
 to find a rock to stump against and throw me down. 
 
 When we passed into Tennessee, we found plenty 
 to eat. It was a grain country and we fared well. 
 Evidences soon began to be seen that we were tak- 
 ing the Yankees by surprise. Probably our advanced 
 troops had engaged them the evening before near 
 Columbia. My command was marched to the right 
 of the town, waded Duck's river, and camped with- 
 out the sound of an ax, or the lighting of a match, with- 
 in a quarter mile of the Franklin turnpike. All the 
 night we heard the passing of wagons and artillery. 
 Of course our officers must have known they were 
 Yankees, but the rank and file thought it was our 
 
96 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 men. When daylight came we were marched onto the 
 pike and saw 
 
 The signs of a panic stricken army. Wagons had 
 been abandoned. Some of the teams had been shot, to 
 keep the mules from falling into our hands. Men had 
 thrown away their guns and knapsacks. We could all 
 see somebody had blundered. Any hour of the night 
 before, we could have bagged them, but orders were 
 not given. Some charged the fault on one, some on 
 another. A foot race began; we crowded them up to 
 the corporate limits of Franklin. To the common 
 soldier, it looked like we could have moved right on 
 and captured the town, but we began to manoeuver 
 from ten o'clock until four, giving them time to com- 
 plete a splendid line of breastworks. When the as- 
 sault was made, we were, after the hardest sort of 
 fighting, successful, but it was a most costly victory, 
 if victory, it was. 
 
 The next day, my Regiment was left on the field to 
 bury the dead. Before night we went into camp a 
 mile up the Harpeth River, an insignificant stream ; 
 next morning we crossed on a rail bridge, thus sur- 
 rounding the little city. There was no obstruction 
 except one old fort, which amounted to but little. "Why 
 the battle of Franklin?" the boys began to ask. Gen- 
 eral Hood, after that was called a *'blood-letter." 
 
 "On to Nashville" was the slogan then. I think we 
 made it in a few hours. That night, I was sent out 
 on picket, where it was necessary for me to remain 
 until daylight, without sleep. Getting back, the boys 
 were preparing breakfast by a big rail fire.. Tennes- 
 see might be called the walnut state, they were every- 
 where, and all the spare time of a soldier was taken 
 up with cracking and eating them. Sitting with my 
 back towards Nashville, eating walnuts, a bullet, shot 
 on the picket line a mile and a half away, found lodg- 
 ment just below my left shoulder blade. But for its 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 97 
 
 hitting a rib, it would have caused instant death. 
 I was hustled off in a road wagon to a hospital, eigh- 
 teen miles away, at Franklin. When I found out that 
 my wound wasn't much and I had good use of one arm 
 and my limbs. 
 
 My old time habit of foraging came on me. I ven- 
 tured out to dinner one day with a fine family, a few 
 miles away. Probably, I was the first soldier wounded 
 at Nashville, so I was quite a hero. I returned next 
 morning for the dressing of my wound and in the aft- 
 ernoon ventured a little further out and allowed the 
 good people to persuade me to remain all night : I was 
 fixing to have the time of my life thereabouts. I was 
 in no hurry to ge back, but when I came in sight of 
 the pike I saw soldiers straggling along towards the 
 South. Presently I heard a cannon fire just across the 
 river. I made hasty inquiry and found that 
 
 The whole army had passed through Franklin the 
 night before and the cannon was fired by the rear 
 guard at the approaching enemy. I hurried to the 
 hospital, got my blanket, canteen and haversack and 
 struck out South. Those who have read my adven- 
 tures in getting through the lines know, that I was 
 "a walker from Walkertown." With the Yanks that 
 near behind, I didn't know what minute a band of them, 
 on some by-road might intercept me. That thought, 
 put quicksilver in my heels and oil in my joints. I 
 caught up with my command, remained one night, 
 when my officers told me to move on — a commarfd, 
 they didn't have to repeat the second time. 
 
 CHAPTER 8. 
 
 About twenty-five wounded men stayed with a fine 
 old Tennessee planter named, Thompson near Pu- 
 laski. Some of us protested that we ought to scat- 
 ter out and not impose on him, but he said : 
 
98 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 "No, you are my folks; I esteem it a privilege to 
 take care of you. The Yanks are coming and what 
 you don't get, they will take." I am sure they dealt 
 roughly with him, if he talked like I imagined he 
 would. 
 
 One night, not far from Florence, a number of us 
 stopped with an old lady who was all alone, except 
 half a dozen negroes, who didn't like it a little bit 
 that we were there. At her suggestion we appointed 
 two of our number who had guns, to see that supper 
 and breakfast were prepared for us. Just as well, we 
 could have carried away something for next day, but 
 soldier-like, we marched away next morning without 
 a morsel of food in our haversacks. 
 
 It was the day before Christmas, a great white 
 frost covered the ground. Just two miles away was 
 Shoal Creek ; the bridge had been destroyed. It look- 
 ed to me like the widest stream I'd ever seen. 
 
 Cold as it was, it must be waded. The bottom was 
 rough with great boulders, the water running like a 
 mill race. In a little while there was a hundred or 
 more men on its banks, all wounded in the arms or 
 head. It was awful to take the water that morning, 
 but we did it. At the river, a couple miles away, in 
 our wet clothes, we waited all day for the pontoon 
 boats to come down. On the other side, that night 
 three of us persuaded a negro to get us an ear of com. 
 We gave him a five dollar Confederate bill — I sus- 
 pect some one assured him it w^as greenback. 
 
 Through Tuscumbia and on to Barton, we marched 
 without breakfast, on that Christmas morning. That 
 was the terminus, for the time being, of the railroad 
 from Corinth. An officer and a few soldiers, 
 were glad to see us, as they feared an attack from the 
 gun boats in the Tennessee River, only a little way 
 back. Each of us drew rations for three men, so we 
 three sat down to cook and eat. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 99 
 
 Corn bread and bacon for nine men. We soon clean- 
 ed it up and parched corn the balance of the day. 
 
 The station house was fortified with sacks of corn. 
 Next morning we entrained, ran five miles to Cher- 
 okee, got off the track and remained twenty-four 
 hours without even corn to parch. 
 
 At Corinth, a few days later, 
 
 I was given a furlough for thirty days, and was ofiF 
 for South Mississippi. I found at Meridian, the Vicks- 
 burg train only ran every other day, that it would be 
 twenty-four hours before the next would leave. It 
 was fifty miles to Newton, my destination. So I start- 
 ed afoot for my brother-in-law's, who lived nine miles 
 east of Newton. The next afternoon about sundown, 
 when I walked up in the back yard, I heard the train 
 blow at Newton — I had walked fifty miles and saved 
 nine. I'd had my jacket only partly on since I was 
 wounded, but I stopped in the woods near home and 
 wiggled into it. Of course all were delighted and sur- 
 prised to see me. 
 
 Hugging and kissing is all right ordinarily, but this 
 was an exceptional case and I had to play cold. I got 
 through the first scene all right. Then came the whys 
 and the wherefores and I delivered myself about thus : 
 "I want to deal candidly with you all, I have deserted. 
 I don't want any of the neighbors to know that I am 
 here and early in the morning I want to slip off to 
 Jones county. I've had enough of it. I was a fool not 
 to stay in California when I was there. It is a rich 
 man's war and a poor man's fight. I don't own any 
 niggers." And so I went on in the most pessimistic 
 fashion. Jones county was the deserter's paradise. All 
 were listening with flushed cheeks, one of my sisters 
 was crying, and my old father, with not a word to say, 
 sat in blank astonishment. Just then, a little impru- 
 dent move in my chair, touched my wound and I flinch- 
 ed, whereupon one of my sisters was on me with the 
 
100 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 words, ''Bud's wounded." In a little while the jacket 
 was off and the wound, undressed for three or four 
 days, was being bathed. 
 
 I said to old father, "I have heard you tell how your 
 father was in the Indian war and was shot in the 
 breast with a squirrel rifle and how proud the whole 
 family was that it was in the breast instead of the back. 
 Your son, has ruined the family record, for he was shot 
 in the back." 
 
 After thirty days, I started to the army, then in 
 North Carolina,. At Montgomery, all the men return- 
 ing from hospitals, on expired furloughs, were halted 
 to meet Wilson's Raid that swept, almost without re- 
 sistance, through from Mississippi to Georgia. 
 
 After an all night job, cutting ropes on cotton bales 
 so they'd burn easily, we were sent to Girard on the 
 Georgia line. All day we were piling barrels of rosin 
 and fat lightwood under the bridges, leading over the 
 Chattahoochee River into Columbus. A straight ditch, 
 dug by the militia, up and down the hill, would afford 
 no protection, once the line was broken at the top 
 of the hill. So we were prepared to run a foot race 
 for the bridges, if the line should break and break it 
 did, at the first fire. 
 
 In the dark, covered bridge, crowded with men and 
 horses, there was danger of a footman being knocked 
 down and tramped to death, so instinctively, every fel- 
 low reached out his hand and steadied himself on a 
 comrade. When the opening of the bridge, on the Co- 
 lumbus side was reached, it was light enough for me 
 to be impressed at sight of the dark clothes my com- 
 panion wore. I thought I observed others with dark 
 clothes — The truth was, some of the Yanks had come 
 over the bridge with us. 
 
 At the mouth of the bridge, a drunken Confederate 
 Cavalry General sat on a horse, pistol in hand, swear- 
 ing he'd shoot the first man who passed. They were 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 101 
 
 passing- in a stream, but he was too drunk to know 
 what was going on. On either side of him was a can- 
 non and an officer threatening to fire into the bridge, 
 jammed full of men. Just to the left, the iron pickets 
 came down from a magnificent residence, to the river, 
 the gate was locked. I shoved my gun through, and 
 mounted the fence. In attempting to let myself down 
 from the top, a sharp iron picket passed through the 
 seat of my new jeans pants and there I was, impaled 
 between the heavens and the earth. 
 
 The Yanks had set fire to a house on the other side, 
 making it light as day, and were firing across the river 
 at the fellows who were fleeing through the spa- 
 cious grounds. 
 
 To be killed on top of that fence was too horrible 
 to contemplate, so I put my heels against the railing 
 and grasped the top of the rods with both my hands, 
 pushed backwards and with a crash the seat of my 
 new breeches gave way and I came down face fore- 
 most to the ground. As I came out into the street 
 on the other side, I found the Yankee Cavalry had 
 crossed the river above and were passing into the 
 city. 
 
 So I took an outing in the woods for two weeks, with 
 a squad of escapes. 
 
 Returning to the city, a sort of patrol was formed, 
 until we heard of the surrender. 
 
 On guard duty on the side-walk, just under the par- 
 lor of a hotel I heard a choir practicing for Sunday 
 service. The song was : 
 
 "Guide me Oh thou Great Jehovah, 
 Pilgrim through this weary land, 
 I am weak, but Thou art Mighty 
 Hold me with Thy powerful hand." 
 
102 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 To a lone soldier, in the silent watches of the night, 
 the sentiments of the song, were likely to make an 
 impression that would not be easily effaced. 
 
 Here ended my three years of soldier life. 
 
 The story is briefly told. Nothing very startling, or 
 remarkable in it, but maybe some of my friends will 
 be interested and learn worth while lessons from it. 
 Often the boys would ask me in the midst of hard- 
 ships : "Aren't you sorry you left California?" My 
 uniform answer was in the negative. I felt conscious 
 of duty done, which was most satisfying. 
 
 When the boys were jolly up in Georgia, when on a 
 long march, we came suddenly on the wagon train, 
 where our rations had been prepared, we broke a fast 
 of several days in the midst of an awful downpour of 
 rain. The boiled beef and corn bread were brought to 
 us in gunny sacks, as wet as water could make them. 
 After we began to fill up, one fellow lifting his hand, 
 shouted in a startled voice : "Hush ! Listen ! Listen ! 
 Every one stopped, as if they were to hear some great 
 firing in the distance, when he remarked: "Every 
 time Wash Crumpton swallows I hear it hit his heels." 
 
 Another said: "Boys, when I get to be an old man, 
 sitting before a big fire in a big arm chair and my lit- 
 tle grand children are crawling over me. I am going 
 to tell them all about this and if the little devils 
 don't cry, I'll wear them out." 
 
 Another said : "Boys if they ever have another war, 
 they will have to burn the w^oods and sift the ashes to 
 get me." 
 
 Not many days after the Columbus experience, I 
 walked into the home of kinspeople in Lowndes county, 
 Avhere I met a warm welcome. 
 
 I was not with the army in North Carolina when it 
 was reorganized. Stopping in Alabama, I didn't see 
 any of the Mississippi comrades for near two years. 
 Sitting by the fire one night, my brother-in-law said. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 103 
 
 "Well, you got to be a Lieutenant before the war 
 closed." I said: *'How is that? I do not understand." 
 Then I was informed, at the re-organization, I was 
 made a Lieutenant and the next morning the Regi- 
 ment was marched out on the color line and surrender- 
 ed. The news of my promotion was slow reaching me 
 and the honor was short lived. 
 
 "Nobody can make Baptists do nothin'. " I was be- 
 fore an Association once, urging upon them something 
 that was entirely new to them, when a preacher in- 
 terrupted with : "Brother Secretary, don't you know 
 nobody can make a Baptist do nothin' ", and down he 
 sat amid the chuckles of his "do nothin' " constituency. 
 My reply was, "You are entirely correct, my brother, 
 all you have to do is to let Baptists alone and they 
 will attend to the little matter of "doin' nothin'," but 
 can't a Baptist shake his lazy self and make himself do 
 something? Is there any law, human or divine, to pre- 
 vent a God-called preacher, sitting down with the re- 
 generated membership of a church and asking them 
 to solenmly resolve, with God's help, to consecrate 
 themselves to the task that God has set before His 
 people ? We Baptists have been too much afraid some- 
 thing was going to happen. We have been afraid we 
 would run away with ourselves. We have put the em- 
 phasis on the holding-back straps and the shaft-band 
 and given but little heed to the hame-strings and the 
 traces. 
 
 "We haven't taken on the load that God and human- 
 ity would put upon us. Let's load up; we will enjoy 
 the pulling and shout when we get to the top of the 
 hill." 
 
Part Four 
 CALL TO THE MINISTRY 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 Here is my idea of GocPs calls: His doors are of the 
 folding variety. He doesn't touch a button for the 
 door to fly wide open, but He opens one fold after 
 another. The process may extend over several years 
 and many factors may enter in ; it w^as that way with 
 me. 
 
 Mother's call and Preacher's Calls. Somewhere I 
 have suggested that my mother might have put the 
 first thought of preaching in my head. My cousin, 
 Boardman Hartwell Crumpton, two years my senior, 
 had been to Howard College at Marion, and one sum- 
 mer brought back with him to Pleasant Hill, John 
 Cain, a bright young preacher companion. I heard 
 them as they preached around at different places. Bor- 
 die, was given to saying things to boys about becom- 
 ing preachers and, I am quite sure more than once he 
 made suggestions to me. People generally were wild 
 over the "boy preachers," especially over Bordie. 
 
 They had something to do with my thoughts of 
 preaching, but I remember distinctly how such 
 thoughts were quickly dispelled by the reflection that 
 I could never hope for a college education, such as 
 they were successfully pursuing. Through all the 
 thoughtless years of youth in California and in the 
 army, I loved to hear preaching. I was not avowedly 
 religious in the army, though a church member from 
 my thirteenth year. 
 
 When I returned from the war I stopped in Lowndes 
 County, east of Farmersville, with two widowed 
 cousins. Each owned about a dozen slaves. They had 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 105 
 
 rented a plantation jointly in these back woods, where 
 the Yanks, should they come, would not so easily find 
 them. The crop had been planted, when freedom to 
 the slaves came. I became a sort of overseer, worker 
 and protector, getting for my services in the fall a few 
 dollars and a pony, the first property I ever owned. 
 
 Now I come to the preachers who entered into my 
 life. The Yankees, overrunning Missisippi, many of 
 the fine people of that State had refugeed into Ala- 
 bama, bringing their stock and slaves with them. 
 Among these was Rev. T. N. Walne, a handsome fel- 
 low, a good preacher, and I guess a pretty good far- 
 mer. He settled in Dallas, renting the old Crumpton 
 plantation and became pastor of a field. Pleasant Hill 
 being one of his churches. The "protracted meeting 
 season," as the months of July and August were gen- 
 erally called, came on, and I was a faithful attendant 
 at many of them. Most of the people, the crops being 
 "laid by," attended. The young folks were there in 
 droves, as such occasions were much like picnics, 
 sumptuous dinners being served. Cotton was bringing 
 50 cents a pound. Much of it, belonging to the 
 Confederate government was run ofif by citizens and 
 returned soldiers and sold at big prices. They justi- 
 fied their action on the ground, the Confederacy owed 
 them, and the cotton would fall into the hands of the 
 Yanks if they did not seize it. Money was plentiful 
 as long as the cotton money lasted. While protracted 
 meetings were not all they ought to have been, they 
 served as a great restraining force and saved the peo- 
 ple from going wild. Brother Walne was much in de- 
 mand. Popular for his ability and his fine personality, 
 great crowds filled the churches. 
 
 B. H, Crumpton, leaving college before graduation, 
 brought home with him a beautiful bride. Miss Ral- 
 lie Armstrong, the adopted daughter of Dr. Talbird, 
 the president of How^ard College. He settled on his 
 
106 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 plantation and became one of the most popular preach- 
 er in the territory. 
 
 After the refugee preachers returned to their Mis- 
 sisippi homes, Bordie was in great demand. A ready 
 speaker, an optimist, tender and affectionate, he was 
 admired and loved by everybody. Among his first ser- 
 mons was one on ^'Christ's Second Coming." I do not 
 remember whether he was a "post" or a "pre"-mil- 
 lennialist, but he put the people to talking and they'd 
 go miles to hear him. The "boy" preacher had the 
 boldness to declare the fulfillment of prophesy and to 
 venture a look into the future. This became a fasci- 
 nation for him and a charm to the people. 
 
 It grew upon him to the end of his days. Old friends, 
 whenever his name is mentioned, talk of him in a most 
 affectionate way and mention the times they had heard 
 him on his favorite theme in the family circle or in 
 the pulpit. His passion for evangelism made him ex- 
 tremely popular for holding meetings. I guess he 
 baptized as many converts as any man in the State. 
 Owning a good plantation, with slaves enough to take 
 care of it, it was easy for him to give much time to 
 holding meetings. 
 
 Added to his accomplishments as a preacher, he was 
 a good singer and one of the best violinists I ever heard. 
 I had many arguments with him against giving up the 
 viohn, but he was conscientious and yielded to the 
 idea that "fiddling" didn't become a preacher of the 
 gospel. "It put dancing in the young people's heads," 
 he would say. The sweetest and most worshipful 
 music, to my mind, comes from the violin, especially 
 in his hands. Besides country fields in the beginning 
 of his ministry, he served Greenville, Evergreen, Brew- 
 ton, Palmetto Street, Mobile, and a church in Texas 
 for a time. 
 
 He was a bom lover of the soil and it was not hard 
 for him to persuade himself, his health needed the ex- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 107 
 
 ercise and open air he could get on the farm. His last 
 years were spent on his farm, serving such churches as 
 were in his reach. 
 
 It was a great grief to a host of friends when the 
 news went out that he was no more. 
 
 I suppose all the preaching of the men mentioned 
 and the meetings attended, the year the war closed had 
 their influence in making me a preacher, but it re- 
 mained for an humble country preacher, Jonathan Bell, 
 in a dozen words, to jar the fruit from its stem. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 This is the way it happened: During the Georgia 
 Campaign, a year before, when Joe Johnson was fall- 
 ing back before Sherman, every stop we made, the 
 boys would say", **01d Joe is going to fight it out here 
 boys." Maybe the next night we'd steal away and 
 three or four miles farther South, begin the erec- 
 tion of a new line of breastworks. 
 
 Late one afternoon, we had received orders to cook 
 three days' rations and be ready to move at daybreak. 
 It was raining, the cooking had to be done by each 
 mess before a log-heap fire. Having much to do 
 with the cooking, it was late in the night when I was 
 ready to retire. It seemed to me every man was asleep 
 in the camp, when I heard my name called: it was the 
 mail carrier. He gave me a letter from a loving sister. 
 I stooped over the letter, so my body would shield 
 it from the rain and by the very dim light, I caught 
 something like this : 
 
 "Bud, I am praying for you every wakeful mo- 
 ment. If you are ever shot down in battle, remem- 
 ber this." I folded the letter, and slipped it in my 
 pocket. The reader can imagine the feelings of any 
 sane, serious man, under the conditions surrounding 
 me. We knew Sherman had probably three men to 
 
108 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 our one ; we believed old Joe was going to stop here ; 
 we were sure the next morning was the time. 
 
 I quietly left the camp and, out of hearing of any- 
 body, by the side of a great old pine, to shield me 
 from the falling rain, I prayed. I called upon the an- 
 gels to witness my vow. I promised God, if life were 
 spared and I returned home, my whole life should be 
 given to His service in whatever field He might open 
 for me. 
 
 Somehow I was mighty comfortable in my feelings 
 after the prayer. I returned to the camp, to fall down 
 on the wet ground, wrapped in my wet blanket. 
 
 God spared me. I returned to loved ones. Every- 
 where, the soldiers were handed 'round on silver plat- 
 ters. Then came the protracted meetings, when 
 the young people gathered to listen respectfully to 
 the forenoon service, partake of the rich bounty pro- 
 vided and to plan for the pleasures of the next day, or 
 the next meeting. Many of us were serious after a 
 fashion. I, with many others, yielded to the persua- 
 sion of friends and asked the people of God for their 
 prayers. Many reached a conclusion and joined the 
 churches. I was already a member, but for nine years, 
 or more, had been so only nominally. 
 
 I had arranged with some young friends from Snow 
 Hill, to meet them at Old Mt. Moriah meeting, near 
 Monterey. I was late in getting there ; everybody 
 was in the house and the preacher was in the pulpit. 
 I entered, by a side door, in full view of the most of 
 the congregation. As I reached down, to put my 
 hat under the seat in front, I heard the preacher say: 
 
 "I will pay thee my vows which my lips have ut- 
 tered and my mouth hath spoken when I was in trou- 
 ble." I never heard it before ; I didn't know the Bible 
 contained such words. A bolt out of a clear sky, 
 wouldn't have been more surprising to me. I never 
 lifted my eyes ; I saw not a soul. The vision of the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 109 
 
 praying boy, that dark, rainy night, and his vow by 
 the side of the old pine tree, flashed before me. I had 
 forgotten it all, till that moment. I didn't release my 
 hold on my hat ; I arose, walked out, got on my horse 
 and rode away. 
 
 From that moment I begsin to try to pay that vow. 
 It has been poorly done, I am ashamed of much of it, 
 but through all eternity I shall bless God for Jona- 
 than Bell's few words that awakened me from my 
 dreams. Those young friends, probably all of them 
 now dead, never knew why I so suddenly disappeared, 
 unless some of them heard me relate it in a sermon af- 
 terwards. 
 
 I didn't venture so far as to announce my purpose to 
 preach, but 
 
 I surrendered to God for service and so let my 
 friends at Pleasant Hill know. 
 
 Soon after that, late in the fall of 1865, I removed 
 to Mississippi, joining my old father and sisters. 
 
 My boyish ways and returned soldiers' hilarity 
 possessed me still, and one would not have picked me 
 out for a probable preacher. My move to Mississippi 
 put me on a farm where I kept bach. 
 
 I resolved to read a chapter in the Bible, and pray 
 before retiring, every night. 
 
 Occasionally my sister was with me, and my old 
 father sometimes. Of course, they were glad to see 
 my change in life. Several of my old army chums 
 were my guests one night. I had a great struggle 
 with Satan to carry out my purpose, but I overcame. 
 Of course, the boys talked it, that I was going to be 
 a preacher. Later, a little Sunday School was organ- 
 ized at Garlandsville and I was made Superintend- 
 ent. That brought on more talk. 
 
 John Latimore, my pastor, persisted in calling on 
 me after his sermon every preaching day, to close 
 with prayer. 
 
110 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 The negroes on the farm, knowing I had prayer 
 every night, asked that I read to them once a week, 
 when they had prayer meeting. Of course I did it. 
 Then the old leader asked if I wouldn't comment on 
 the Scripture. I did that. 
 
 Then the fire began to bum. Like a stone wall, 
 the impossibility of an education stood before me at 
 every thought of preaching. I was bothered ; the 
 conviction pursued me ; it would not down. 
 
 Finally, one day, when plowing, I drove my mule 
 into the jam of the fence, went out into the woods and, 
 under a crab-apple tree, settled it with God. 
 
 Education or no education; I would preach. Great 
 satisfaction came to me then. I was a subscriber to 
 the Baptist Watchman printed at Meridian. In a 
 little while, a statement was printed there, that Jerry 
 Brown, of Alabama, who before the War had helped 
 in the education of many young preachers at Howard 
 College, would take up the work again and wanted 
 to get in communication with a dozen or more young 
 men. 
 
 I took it; God was opening the way to me. I wrote 
 the editor asking about it. Weeks passed before I 
 heard anything. In September, a letter came telling me. 
 he had investigated the matter of Brown's proposition 
 and found it Avas a mistake ; but, if I felt the Lord 
 wanted me to preach, he would see me at Garlands- 
 ville in October at the meeting of the General Asso- 
 ciation, and we'd talk it over. 
 
 I found out later, much of the time, he had taken up 
 investigating me by corresponding with John Lati- 
 mer, my pastor. I had noticed a very tender solici- 
 tude on the part of the pastor for me, but had no 
 dream he had found out my secret, until he mentioned 
 it to me as the time for the meeting approached. He 
 broke the news to my church and I was licensed to 
 preach. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 Then it was J. B. Hamberlin came into my life. 
 
 I ought to remember more about the meeting of 
 the General Association. It was a notable event in 
 that section. I guess, my mind was wholly absorbed 
 with the visit of the editor of the Watchman. An 
 after acquaintance with some of the leaders of the 
 General Association, makes me doubt if they were at 
 all hearty in the plan of the young preacher, going 
 away to college. The General Association, became 
 the opposition State organization to the Mississippi 
 Baptist Convention. All sorts of trouble about mis- 
 sions and education were sprung with the two bodies. 
 Brothers N. L. Clark and William Thigpen, were the 
 leaders of the General Association. They were as 
 good men as the Lord ever made, but they were sus- 
 picious of everything new or progressive. Every 
 age has known men like them and every State, espec- 
 ially in the South, has been retarded by their opposi- 
 tion. 
 
 But, after all, perhaps, it is a part of God's great plan. 
 Patience and forbearance, we need in the great work 
 of God. Cock-suredness, is one of the faults of some 
 great leaders and ruin would come if they were not 
 restrained. The brakes are put on by an opposer, the 
 leaders are fretted and maybe later, are quite convinced 
 theirs was not the best way. 
 
 I learned that the Howard buildings at Marion, had 
 been so abused by the Federal troops, who had occu- 
 pied them, there was no prospect of opening its doors. 
 Mississippi College at Clinton, was similarly situated. 
 But Brother Hamberlin had found that 
 
 Georgetown College, Kentucky, had secured N. M. 
 Crawford of Georgia, as President, and was in good 
 condition, and so the decision was that I should go 
 there. The sale of my pony and getting together all I 
 
112 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 could scrape, would about buy my clothes and pay my 
 way to Georgetown. 
 
 The first call put in the Watchman, after the war for 
 aid for a young preacher, was in behalf of this ''un- 
 worthy dust." But there was more trouble ahead. 
 
 Then came the examination at Jackson, led by The- 
 odore Whitfield, a finished scholar and theologian. I 
 was near twenty-five years of age, had learned some in 
 school and absorbed lots from travel and being in the 
 army, but my education was wretchedly defective, es- 
 pecially was I densely ignorant about the Bible. Whit- 
 field persisted in saying, I should know something 
 about the Bible, and he certainly was right. After two 
 or three questions and most unsatisfactory answers, I 
 confessed my ignorance and probably suggested it 
 would be best to go back to the plow for a year and 
 prepare myself somewhat for the examination, which 
 I did not know awaited me, or I would never have 
 come. But good Brother Hamberlin interceded. I 
 do not recall it all now, but they gave me somewhat 
 of a paper and I went on, reaching Georgetown — 
 in the holidays of 1867. In every examination of young 
 preachers, through the years, I have had a deep and 
 abiding interest in the ignorant, young fellows, but I 
 have had too, a great leaning to Whitfield's viewpoint, 
 a young preacher should know something about the 
 Bible. We have greatly suffered on account of care- 
 lessness in the matter of examinations, and requiring 
 nothing but that the applicant felt he ought to preach. 
 
 At Georgetown, with the exception of one man, 
 among the young preachers, I had the advantage as to 
 age and experience, but the last one of them had me 
 down, as to a knowledge of books. 
 
 Bifother Hamberlin was a brother right. I have 
 some of his letters now. How they cheered me and 
 how he whooped up friends to help me ! I have a list 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 113 
 
 of their names, the churches to which they belonged, 
 and the amounts they gave. Meridian, First Church, 
 of which Brother HamberHn was pastor, more than 
 once responded. 
 
 J. B. HamberHn coining into my life was a great 
 thing for me. He was a scholar, a perfect gentleman, 
 deeply pious, with a persuasive, convincing voice and 
 energy that never lagged. By some means he had 
 lost an eye, which was a great handicap to him, causing 
 much suffering with neuralgia. 
 
 Later when I was pastor in Meridian, he was doing 
 the work of his life on the Mississippi coast. Later, 
 still, when I became Secretary of the Bission Board 
 and the Healing Springs school property came in pos- 
 session of the Baptist Convention; he was the founder 
 of the school and loved it as a fond mother loves her 
 child. He was the same indomitable worker and per- 
 fect gentleman — a bit contentious and maybe too per- 
 sistent, but that I took to be, because of age. His 
 death was sudden and horrible, when by mistake he 
 took from a phial carbolic acid, instead of paregoric, 
 or some harmless drug. 
 
 I am writing about my call to the ministry: Where 
 did it begin and where end? Maybe it began with my 
 mothers' words, when I was a bit of a child. 
 
 God was opening the door, fold after fold. Was it 
 wide open, when I reached Georgetown, Ky., to at- 
 tend school, or on January 30th, 1870, at Town Creek 
 Church, when W. C. Cleveland, B. H. Crumpton and 
 T. M. Bailey laid their hands on me in ordination? My 
 idea is, 
 
 God kept up the calling, until I fully answered. I 
 had a very great struggle later. This is the way I tell 
 it : Living on my farm in Dallas County, one Sat- 
 urday morning, going to a little church at Rehoboth, I 
 rode through the farm, unexpectedly to the negroes. 
 Of course, they were doing anything else than what 
 
114 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 they were ordered to do ; I was fretted. On my way 
 to the church, I mused about it thus : "I am trying 
 to preach and run a farm. God didn't want his preach- 
 ers to be harrassed in this way; the farm suffers and 
 the preaching much more. I am getting no satisfaction 
 out of my work and I am not treating the churches 
 right. It is impossible for me to leave the farm, so, 
 when January comes, I will give up the ministry and 
 so announce it in the Alabama Baptist." I tried then, 
 in the few minutes left of my ride, to think of some- 
 thing to preach. With my mind all confused, I was 
 in a most unhappy mood. 
 
 Among those who came into the church was Joe 
 Bennie Perkins, from McKinley. As clear, as if some 
 one had spoken the words, the thought came into my 
 mind: "His coming has something to do with your 
 thoughts this morning." He was the first to reach 
 me after the sermon, with a letter from the old Pastor, 
 L. L. Fox. It ran about this way : "I will never be 
 able to leave my room again ; I have resigned here 
 and the church at my suggestion, has called you for 
 two Sundays in the month. Come down tomorrow and 
 accept the care of this fine flock." I returned home 
 that night, promising to be at McKinley Sunday night. 
 They gave me a hearty greeting and the old pastor 
 gave me a blessing. I left an appointment for the next 
 month. When starting again, in August, I suggested 
 to the good wife, that she put in enough clothes to do 
 for ten days, for I might remain in a meeting. While 
 jogging along, my mind was much on the question that 
 had been disturbing me so long. I thought of 
 
 The Way One Man Settled It. He was an eccen- 
 tric preacher in Kentucky. He told the story of 
 his call about this way : ''I wanted to preach, 
 but Mahala wouldn't give her consent. I be- 
 lieved I was called and she didn't. It bothered m^e 
 much, so one day while I was plowing, I drove my nag 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 115 
 
 to the end of the row and got down in the furrow 
 on my knees and said: "Lord come this way, I want 
 to make a contract with you. You know how things 
 is at my house : I beheve you have called me to preach 
 and Mahala don't believe it. I want to settle it right 
 here with you, so there will be no doubt about it : 
 Here's my proposition : I will lay by my crop good 
 
 and clean, then I'll go down to old 
 
 Church and run a meetin'. You know they ain't had 
 a preacher for two years and the old house is in a 
 mighty bad fix. Now Lord, if you want me to preach, 
 show it by convertin' 14 souls and make the brethren 
 pay me for my services, for you have said 'the la- 
 borer is worthy of his hire.' I went home and told 
 Mahala about the contract and she said, if the Lord 
 converted anybody under my preachin' she'd give in. 
 Well sir, I went, got all the people in the neighbor- 
 hood together and held the meetin': the Lord convert- 
 ed more than the contract called for, the brethren 
 made up a nice purse and raised the money to fix the 
 old house. There has never been any doubt at my 
 house since, on the question of my bein' called." When 
 I had run all that through my mind, I asked: "What 
 is the matter with his way of settling the ques- 
 tion? Don't God challenge us to try him? That is 
 exactly what he did." So, without getting off my 
 horse and down on my knees 
 
 I asked God to let the meeting^ I was going to, be the 
 test with me. 
 
 I found myself strangely submissive and really hap- 
 py over the prospect of the final settlement of the vex- 
 ed question. The people knew not a word of my plans 
 for the meeting. I announced from day to day about 
 its continuance ; so it went on for ten days, without 
 the least excitement "and the Lord added daily the 
 saved." IMiss Willie Kelly, for 27 years, our great 
 
116 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 woman Missionary in Shanghai, China, with her mo- 
 ther, being among those baptized. 
 
 The question as to the will of the Lord concerning 
 me, was forever settled after the close of the McKin- 
 ley meeting. 
 
 It was just like the Lord, to soon open the way for 
 me to give myself wholly to the ministry. 
 
 It was like beginning a new life to me — at last all 
 the folds of the door were open and I could see my duty 
 clearly and joyfully enter the wide open door. 
 
 Was all this in the call of God to the ministry? 
 Well, maybe not in His Call, but in His calling — His 
 continued calling. He called at the start, but my full 
 answer never came until the meeting at M. 
 
 One thing I know, the ministry meant more to me 
 than ever before. Before that, going to my appoint- 
 ment was like filling a business engagement and hur- 
 rying away to other business. Oh, the joy of the new 
 life ; I can never forget it. 
 
 My Secularized Brother, I am sorry for you. How 
 much you are missing! 
 
 How the work is suffering, because of your half- 
 hearted service ! 
 
Part Five 
 
 PERIOD IN THE MINISTRY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I was licensed in 1866 at Garlandsville, Miss., but I 
 might say, my ministry began in 1868, when a stu- 
 dent at Georgetown, Kentucky. 
 
 Long Lick was the church, down in the hills, a dozen 
 miles away, where all the young preachers broke in. 
 A. C. Davidson and I, by whose suggestion I do not 
 know, became co-pastors, each once a month, our only 
 compensation being the pay of the horse hire at the 
 stable. I did not continue long, but Davy, as the boys 
 called him, remained quite a bit. At the suggestion of 
 J. W. Waldrop, of Owen Co., to whom I had given 
 out my purpose not to return to college in the fall of 
 '69, I was employed as a missionary for three months 
 in the Ten Mile Association in Galatin Co. Poor fool- 
 ish boy — rather man^ for I was then twenty-seven 
 years old — to quit college, knowing so little — the mis- 
 take of my life! I had succeeded, as a teacher and had 
 turned down a fine offer in a splendid neighborhood to 
 teach. I was firm in the conviction, I must preach. 
 Waldorp, a strong country preacher, believed in me 
 enough to recommend me. I shouldn't have thought 
 of becoming a missionary, but for him. He agreed 
 to go with me and hold a few meetings. 
 
 The Association was small, probably twelve or fif- 
 teen churches, the time only three months, closing 
 about Christmas. It has been so long — fifty years — I 
 cannot recall many things, but I remember, good meet- 
 ings were held in all the churches and the results were 
 most satisfactory to the Executive Committee. 
 
118 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 My field was along the Ohio River, below Cincinnati. 
 The meetings were in the depth of winter, 
 with snow and ice everywhere. A brother, who came 
 down into the hills to Paint Lick Church to preach 
 for me on Saturday night and baptize, (I had not been 
 ordained) my ten or a dozen candidates next morning 
 in the icy waters of the Ohio River, asked, "What have 
 you been preaching to these people?*' My reply was, 
 "I haven't preached sermons at all." (Truth is I had 
 none to preach.) "I have just been reading Bible in- 
 cidents to them, trying to tell them the meaning, and 
 to impress them that they were not living right." 
 The best practical preparation for the work I 
 was to follow later, came to me in the three months in 
 the old Ten Mile Association. 
 
 Probably it was the first meeting we were to hold, 
 as we were hitching our horses, I called Waldrop's at- 
 tention to the song they were singing in the house : 
 "Afflictions though they seem severe are oft in mercy 
 sent :" whereupon the preacher said, in almost a de- 
 spairing tone : "Do you suppose you will ever be seri- 
 ous enough to make a preacher?" 
 
 My strong attachment for my home State, though I 
 hadn't been much in it for near eight years, caused me 
 to turn down several offers, and return to Alabama in 
 the midst of the holidays of '69. My cousin, B. H. 
 Crumpton, had induced Providence, Shiloh and New 
 Bethel (Braggs) to call me — none had ever heard 
 me, and not a half dozen had ever seen me. 
 
 This was a new school the Lord was putting me in. 
 New Bethel church was near 40 miles from me and I 
 gave it up after one year. Shiloh, with its three male 
 members and probably a half dozen sisters and maybe 
 two hundred colored members, I continued with for 
 two years. One notable thing done there was the 
 peaceable settling of the colored members into a church 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 119 
 
 of their own, the whites generously helping in the 
 erection of their building. 
 
 As a matter of history, it ought to be re- 
 corded. The Freedmen's Bureau, established at Selma 
 by the Federal authorities, did outrageous things and 
 were suspected of putting it into the heads of the Bap- 
 tist negroes that, where they were in the majority, 
 as they were in all the churches in the Black Belt, they 
 had a right to exclude the whites and take possession 
 of the property. That rumor reaching the little 
 church at Shiloh, caused them to hasten the action 
 recorded above. The Southern whites proved them- 
 selves a long suffering people to have borne so w^ell 
 the doings of the Freedmen's Bureau. 
 
 "Hold what you have," has been the motto of the 
 State Board of Missions of Alabama from the start ; 
 the incident of Shiloh suggesting it. A great old 
 country church it is today. When it had dwindled and 
 everything looked like ruin, it was held together hop- 
 ing for better days, and the better days came. Saving 
 Shiloh was worth while. That was before the day of 
 State Boards, but hundreds of churches were saved by 
 the Board pursuing the Shiloh policy. 
 
 Providence, the remaining church of my first pasto- 
 rate, became my home and the sw^eetest memories of 
 my life cluster about it and the dozen or more years 
 I was its pastor. Though the church was isolated, the 
 young pastor determined, and so announced to his 
 people, they should hear the best preachers of the 
 States. He tried to be like the good mother, who is 
 always thinking of her children, and how she may find 
 good things for them. First and last, they heard the 
 best preachers in reach of them. 
 
 Probably the greatest occasion came when the Bap- 
 tist Rally wais bom. This is the way it came about: 
 
 I had been in the habit of visiting some Associations 
 in the fall, for Secretary Bailey. I said to one or two 
 
120 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 of my members, "My old friends, J. M. Frost and A. C. 
 Davidson have suddenly dropped down in our State 
 and Association. We have been widely separated for 
 fifteen years. After the Associations are over, perhaps 
 in December, I am going to have them spend three 
 days in the middle of the week at my home." One of 
 them, Ben Ellis, said, "That looks selfish. Why not 
 have them here at the church, and let all of us be with 
 them?" A meeting in December was unheard of, but 
 I at once agreed to the suggestion. Later I suggest- 
 ed, "It would be pleasant for these new men to meet 
 other preachers. If you will see that their expenses 
 are paid, 1*11 invite them." That was agreed to, a 
 program was arranged, covering 
 
 Subjects, radiating- from Providence to the rim of 
 the world. The Lord was in it. It rained the first day, 
 and every day, but only at night, or after we reached 
 the church in the morning. Every day we had din- 
 ner on the ground and the house was packed. One 
 night, all the preachers, perhaps a dozen, were in my 
 home. 
 
 Old Deacon C. M. Cochran, long the pillar of the 
 church, whose daughter was the pastor's wife, testi- 
 fied that night, "This is the best meeting I ever 
 attended in all my long life." He was given strength 
 to attend every day. It was the last meeting with 
 him. The expenses of the brethren were paid and 
 that became a precedent. As long as I was pastor, no 
 preacher ever came there without his expenses being 
 paid, at least. 
 
 That programme of the Baptist Rallies, with slight 
 
 alterations, for twenty-five years, was before the 
 
 Bapitsts of every part of the State. What a story 
 
 could be written of it, if all the threads could be 
 
 gotten together: 
 
 I had a way of writing for the newspapers — a habit 
 I have kept up. I wrote about the bad roads in Dallas 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 121 
 
 County and criticized the over-seers for rushing out, 
 just before the Grand Jury met, throwing a few brush 
 in the washed places and dragging a Httle loose dirt 
 in and calling that, a road working. Generally it took 
 a day and a half to finish the job, while the law allowed 
 ten days each year, if necessary. The boys thought 
 they were playing a good joke on me to have the 
 commissioners throw two roads together, making 
 about four miles with fifty hands and making me over- 
 seer. One of the commissioners said, "We did it to 
 please the boys, if it interferes with your work as a 
 minister, we will let you off." My reply was, "The 
 boys couldn't have pleased me better. I never was 
 on the road in my life, but I believe I can give them 
 a pattern of road building, they never will forget." 
 Along in the spring I called my hands out, ran over 
 the whole distance in one day. I told the two or three 
 white men, I'd take any sort of substitute they'd send 
 me, I wanted all negroes. After the first day I made 
 a speech something Hke this: "We are all farmers. 
 If you insist on my sticking to the letter of the law, 
 I'll give you three day's notice and call you when I 
 please, regardless of crop conditions; but if you will 
 all leave it to me, I will wait until it is too wet to work 
 in the field, then send you word and we'll get out, wet 
 weather is the best time for road working." With- 
 out a dissenting voice they agreed to my suggestion. 
 When we "laid by" and a good wet spell came, we 
 made a finish. It was the first time in the history of 
 the country, the road had been worked. I mention this, 
 not to boast, but as an illustration of how I think, a 
 preacher ought to lay hold and help where he can. 
 There*s a lot of good religion in good roads. They 
 are a blessing to man and beast and what a saving! 
 
 He is another illustration: 
 
 I believe in the organization of Farmers. The world 
 must depend upon them, but they are the most de- 
 
122 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 frauded people on the face of the earth, largely be- 
 cause of their ignorance and their inability to organ- 
 ize their forces. 
 
 I joined the Grange. I had traveled much, had been 
 fairly observant about improved stock and advanced 
 farm methods. I was called upon for a speech : **For 
 the Good of the Order." The speech was something 
 like this: "Sauntering along a Kentucky pike on a 
 Saturday morning, when I was in school, I saw ve- 
 hicles turning into a wood, where was a gathering of 
 people. I turned in and found it to be a three days 
 neighborhood fair, which they called : "The World's 
 Fair." Probably eight hundred people were present. 
 Everything grown on the farm was on exhibition. 
 
 A small speed-ring was there to exhibit the horses. 
 While racing was not in it, because of the very small 
 ring, one boy challenged another and in the ring they 
 went. One drove an old grey pacer and the other a 
 fine young horse. Old grey shot off in good style and 
 took the lead, but unfortunately, a hame string broke, 
 and the sulky and driver were left behind. The young 
 horse darted by, but the driver of old grey, gathered 
 himself up, mounted his old steed, bare back and won 
 the race, amid an uproar such as those old trees had 
 never heard before." My mention of the race was 
 only an incident, my main point was the fadr. I had 
 hardly seated myself, before an enthusiastic, intelli- 
 gent member, moved the appointment of a commit- 
 tee to look into the matter. The result was the in- 
 auguration of: 
 
 The West Dallas Agricultural Fair at Orrville. In 
 every particular it was all that the most sanguine 
 could have expected. I was wonderfully pleased with 
 the programme, except the premiums oflFered on 
 horses. Where one dollar was oft'ered on cattle, hogs 
 or produce, five dollars were put on horses. Of course 
 the sports, thus encouraged, took possession. I at- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 123 
 
 tended the first day and washed my hands of the whole 
 business. It lasted only a few years and went out a 
 bankrupt. But for that blunder, which nearly always 
 attends fairs, the West Dallas Fair, might have led 
 forty years ago, to the splendid prosperity that section 
 is now enjoying. It is noted for its thrift, its fine hog 
 and cattle industry. I know of nothing better for a 
 community than an Agricultural Fair, if the sports 
 and crooks can be ruled out. 
 
 The Grange ran its course in a little while, after 
 taking a twist at politics. The broken down politi- 
 cians have been the ruin of every movement of the 
 sort among the farmers. Because I believed a preach- 
 er ought to have an abiding interest in whatever con- 
 cerns the people, I branched out later on Prohibition. 
 Some are ambitious for leadership, I never was. Every 
 step of the way, I have been driven along all through 
 my life, because I felt. Somebody must lead. IMy 
 friends are often made to laugh when I affirm, "I am 
 a timid man," but it is so. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 Advice to Preachers. Knowing the pull of the farm, 
 
 after one comes to love it, my advice to preachers is. 
 "Don^t own a farm." It is a snare to every preacher 
 who has tried it. "Give thyself wholly to these 
 things." The crying need of the churches and, the 
 preachers as well, is to do that very thing. "Oh, the 
 wasted years on the farm !" is my sad lament, now in 
 my old age. Personally, they were the happiest years 
 of my life, but ministerially, there was no growth, it 
 was impossible. "Live of the Gospel," is the command 
 — it will never come, while the preachers are willing to 
 piddle at all sorts of things for a living. I wrote my 
 old friend Frost, after fifteen years of separation. "I 
 am playing at preaching and farming in dead earnest," 
 
124 A BOOK OF MEAIORIES. 
 
 The "Dead in Earnest" of a preacher's life, goes on the 
 secular side, if he is following a secular calling. 
 
 I began preaching with the determination to stick 
 to my job. My churches began well, paying me more 
 than I was worth. On the strength of that, I got me 
 a wife. That very year, the farms failed because of 
 the floods and the churches failed with me. 
 
 In an evil hour, I determined to become independent. 
 There was one of my greatest blunders. I had an op- 
 portunity to train my people in the New Testament 
 plan, but I did not do it. 
 
 More than twenty years ago, I sold my farm. A few 
 years back, a brother asked : "Aren't you sorry now 
 you sold? You probably got $8 or $10 an acre, now 
 perhaps you could get three or four times that much." 
 My reply was : "No, if I had kept it, I would have 
 moved to it fifteen years ago, and these have been 
 the most useful years of my life." No, brother Preach- 
 re : If you have money to invest, put it in bonds or 
 something else, they won't need any repairs, the rains 
 won't wash them away and the tenant never fails to 
 pay the rent. 
 
 This is rather a long introduction to the story of Bap- 
 tist Affairs, as I became acquainted with them in 1870. 
 In my immediate section the ministers were : T. M. 
 Bailey, W. C. Cleveland, B. H. Crumpton and E. B. 
 Teague at Selma. All of these are now passed away, ex- 
 cept Bailey and myself. We were in the first district of 
 the Alabama Association in Dallas County. There, it 
 would be safe to say, the spirit of progress prevailed 
 as it did in no other section of the State. The fifth 
 Sunday meetings, embracing three days, were meet- 
 ings of power and from them went out an influence 
 that later, permeated the State. I knew nothing of 
 the Baptists elsewhere, had never attended a State 
 Convention. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 125 
 
 CHAPTER 4. 
 
 In 1872 I attended my first Convention at Eufaula. 
 There was no Minute Fund, hence no Minutes. The 
 next year the clerk, J. J. D. Renfroe, gave a brief ab- 
 stract of 72 and bound it with 73. That looks as if 
 things were at a pretty low ebb, and they were. The 
 attendance was very small. I met there, B. F. Riley, 
 a young man just from school, J. P. Shaffer, Doctor 
 E. T. Winkler, Renfroe and Doctor Samuel Hender- 
 son, men who were then figuring and were later to 
 figure, in State affairs. 
 
 The next Convention I attended was in 1874, at Ma- 
 rion. There, some notable things occurred; one, the 
 election of Jonathan Haralson, as President; the sec- 
 ond time a layman was put in that office, Judge W. P. 
 Chilton being the first. He was continued as Presi- 
 dent for sixteen years, then the Southern Baptist Con- 
 vention honored him and itself by keeping him in the 
 President's chair nine years. 
 
 The era of prosperity with the Baptists of Alabama 
 began with that Convention. The State Mission 
 Board was born at this session. For two years we'd 
 had a Sunday School Board, T. C. Boykin, Secretary. 
 Now the scope was enlarged, the name was changed 
 and T. M. Bailey made Secretary, Boykin having re- 
 signed. Members of the Home Mission Board, lo- 
 cated at Marion and Dr. E. T. Winkler, the pastor of 
 Siloam (Marion) church, a little disturbed in mind over 
 the new Board lest it interfere with the work of their 
 Board, were reconciled, when it was located in Mar- 
 ion, Dr. Winkler himself, making the motion to 
 change the name to the State Mission Board. 
 
 The Alabama Baptist was bom at the same meet- 
 ing. For the want of a brave leader with money, the 
 Baptists had suffered. The Christian Index, which 
 published an Alabama Department, Doctor Samuel 
 
126 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Henderson being the editor, sent every year, skilled 
 debaters to the Alabama Convention who made prom- 
 ises which were soon forgotten and terrified the Ala- 
 bamians with the fabulous expense another pa- 
 per would cost. But now, figures had been 
 made b}^ business men of our own and, Winkler, the 
 orator, was there to speak for the new enterprise. 
 Doctor W. W. Wilkerson, the beloved physician, and 
 Jessie B. Lovelace, the faithful, had money to back the 
 movement. 
 
 Let it never be forgotten that in no small degree, 
 credit is due, David Lyon, a ministerial student of 
 Howard College, to whom the business management 
 of the paper was intrusted. After sixteen months the 
 paper was reported out of debt and, the regret ex- 
 pressed that, "no surplus could be reported on hand to 
 be divided with the editors who have labored so effi- 
 ciently and acceptably, free of charge," A year later 
 Lyon has been promoted to the place of assistant edi- 
 tor, with a salary contingent on the success of the pa- 
 per. Another year passes and the paper is presented, 
 free of debt to the Convention. For many years Da- 
 vid Lyon has been a noted Professor in Harvard 
 University. Our Alabama boys, who attend the Uni- 
 versity, write of his ever abiding interest in Alabama, 
 Howard College and the paper. 
 
 After my first communication to the new paper, Dr. 
 Winkler wrote me something like this : "You have a 
 point to your pen. You owe it to the Lord and to the 
 brethren to keep it sharp and use it often." He might 
 have gotten that off to others also, but I was vain 
 enough to take his words seriously. I think he in- 
 tended to encourage a young brother who needed it. 
 I might have gone on writing, without those words, 
 but I suspect they caused me to fill more space in the 
 newspapers than I would have otherwise done. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 127 
 
 A plan entered into by a few brethren, helped in no 
 small degree in hastening the progressive era. All 
 the divisive questions, likely to come before the Con- 
 vention, were listed and discussed pro and con through 
 the Alabama Baptist by brethren, who had agreed to 
 write about them. The result was, the Convention 
 was pretty well informed, when it met and conclusions, 
 almost unanimous, were reached. 
 
 In my years at Providence, though handicapped by 
 the farm; I did much preaching in several counties. 
 During the protracted meeting season, for six weeks 
 in the summer, I was gone from home much of the 
 time. The 5th Sunday meetings and the Associations, 
 offered opportunities for great usefulness. For sev- 
 eral years, I kept one Sunday vacant, that I might visit 
 destitute points within thirty or forty miles of my 
 home. 
 
 One of these places was Camden. That was 
 the place where I first saw the light and I 
 had a tender place in my heart for them. I found them 
 without a pastor. I bantered the Jones boys, Paul and 
 Rich, to call me and they took the dare. When the 
 call came, I lived 22 miles away, across the river, but 
 I accepted temporarily until I could find them a man. 
 
 Somehow the first man was not a fit and I repeated 
 the plan and they secured, C. W. Hare, a native of Wil- 
 cox County, who did a fine work. 
 
 Later still, I served them and Rockwest, a country 
 church. 
 
 All this and much more, I might write, leads me to 
 say : 
 Don't Disparage the Work of the Country Preacher. 
 
 The preacher himself is liable to underrate the value 
 of his own work. As a matter of fact, he is helping 
 to shape for life, the men and women, who are to shape 
 the destinies of the State and Nation. Up to now, the 
 cities have been dominated by country reared men. 
 
128 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 I stand by the proposition : The country is the best 
 place for a preacher to begin his life said a fine place 
 for him to end it too. 
 
 CHAPTER 5. 
 
 When I first knew T. M. Bailey, he was the pastor 
 of Town Creek Church. He was Hving on a httle farm, 
 but I judge, he knew but Httle about farming. His 
 church was a large body, composed entirely of farm- 
 ers, in a community of intelligent people. The pastor 
 organized an Evergreen Sunday School. I doubt if 
 there was such a school in the State, outside the 
 towns. The custom in all schools, where they had 
 them, was to adjourn in the fall until spring, because 
 few churches had stoves, Bailey expressed the hope 
 that the doors should never be closed a single Sunday 
 at Town Creek. His wish, in that matter, has been 
 carried out to this good day. 
 
 We had great 5th Sunday meetings in the First Dis- 
 trict, meeting on Friday and continuing for three full 
 days. Bailey took with him to these meetings Deacon 
 Quarles, who was beyond seventy years old. Here was 
 about his speech: "When Brother Bailey organized our 
 Sunday School, we had two Spectacle classes. I was to 
 teach the one for the men. Our church had been used 
 to having the best preachers in the country. I though 
 I knew something about the Bible, until I began to 
 try to teach it. Me and my neighbors, all plain old 
 farmers, with mighty Httle education, have been meet- 
 ing every Sunday to talk with one another about God's 
 Book. I want to say, I have learned more about the 
 Bible in this way, than I ever learned from hearing 
 preaching." 
 
 That was the old man's speech, everywhere, and it 
 was most convincing. Brother Quarles was right — we 
 learn most from study and trying to teach. I would 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 129 
 
 not disparage preaching; we must have it, but he is 
 the best preacher, who gets his people to do like the 
 Bereans, "Search the Scriptures daily whether these 
 things are so." 
 
 Probably the greatest gift of God to the Baptists 
 of Alabama, was the man who became the first Secre- 
 tary of the State Mission Board. Alabama needed just 
 such a man at that time. He was familiar with the 
 Bible, loved children, could entertain them for hours 
 with stories, he was a thorough missionary, could re- 
 ply to all objections, had been a foreign missionary, 
 and was a good business man. 
 
 There were opposers everywhere — anti-Ministerial 
 Education, anti-Sunday School, and anti-Missions. 
 They needed to hear Bailey but once, to shut their ig- 
 norant mouths. They were not all converted, but much 
 was accomplished when they were made to be more 
 careful about their talk. Those who had been mission- 
 aries in name, were made glad by what they heard, 
 but they didn't run over one another to give money 
 to the cause, for it was two years before the Secre- 
 tary got enough to pay his salary and he alone, was 
 in the field. 
 
 Bailey was an Irishman. All who have head about 
 Home Rule for Irelauid, should know : all the trouble 
 comes about because of the situation in the North of 
 Ireland. It is strongly Protestant and the Catholic 
 part of Ireland would persecute without mercy the 
 Protestants if they had Home Rule. Our Brother Bai- 
 ley was from North Ireland, and, a Moravian. That 
 denomination was great on Sunday Schools, memor- 
 izing the Bible and on Foreign Missions. When a 
 young man, Bailey was a book-keeper in Dublin. Later 
 he became a missionary and went to the West Indies. 
 There he married a very beautiful woman of noble 
 birth. Later, broken in health from yellow fever, he 
 went to South Carolina. There he became a Baptist. 
 
130 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Later still, he was led to Alabama to the Alabama 
 Association about Fort Deposit. 
 
 An interesting incident is told of his sailing to the 
 foreign field. He was to have sailed at a certain date 
 on a certain vessel. On some account, he put it off a 
 month, his home folks not knowing about the change. 
 The vessel he would have gone out in, if his program 
 had been carried out, was wrecked and all on board 
 lost. So certain were his friends that he had filled a 
 waterly grave, his funeral was held. Imagine the joy 
 that came with the news of his safe arrival in another 
 vessel. 
 
 Bailey's slogan was: "A Sunday School in every 
 church, every Sunday, with every member in attend- 
 ance with every member of the famly." Put him up 
 to preach anywhere, on any topic, he was certain to 
 bring it in. He was a thoughtful, instructive preach- 
 er. As a platform speaker he had few equals. 
 
 Spending the night at my house, I took him in my 
 buggy to the Bethel Association. It covered all the 
 territory in the forks of the Alabama and the Tom- 
 bigbee, Clarke, Marengo, West Wilcox and a church 
 or two in West Dallas. Both of us were strangers. 
 We walked in on them, while Brother Adams was 
 preaching the introductory sermon to an audience 
 about the size of a Saturday meeting, in a large old 
 country church. That P. M., I was read out to talk 
 on Sunday Schools at 10:00 o'clock the next morn- 
 ing, Sunday (all the Associations embraced a Sunday 
 in those days). Bailey was to preach at 11 :00 o'clock. 
 "Wash, can you talk an hour?" was the Secretary's 
 inquiry. I told him I never had. "Well," he said, 
 "You do it and I'll follow at once and we'll give them 
 something to think about." In all that territory I 
 doubt if there were half a dozen Sunday Schools. I 
 carried out my part of the program as nearly as I 
 cold, then he took the floor, saying over all I had said, 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 131 
 
 then some more, and some more still. In a little while, 
 dear old Brother Fox, the Moderator, said: "Brother 
 Bailey I hate to interrupt you but the hour has come 
 for the 11:00 o'clock sermon." "All right, Brother 
 Moderator I'll take that up in a little while," was the 
 speaker's reply. A half hour later the Moderator in- 
 terrupted again, a little impatiently, to be informed, 
 "Brother Moderator, I was appointed to preach the 
 sermon at this hour and I have been at it as hard as I 
 could for the last half hour and will leave it to the body 
 an hour later, if I haven't preached a sermon." The 
 great audience on Sundays, had been used to hearing 
 a big sermon on some doctrinal subject at the Asso- 
 ciations. Thoughtful men said that was the begin- 
 ning of an upward tide in the Association. Thus, all 
 over Alabama, this man of God went with a lighted 
 torch, and the smoldering embers, were soon aflame. 
 
 Bailey was an organizer. He took tw^o years in mak- 
 ing a survey of the State, usually making a water-haul 
 when collections were called for. He then planned di- 
 viding the State into districts and putting a strong 
 man in each district. They were not to be men who 
 needed a job, but men who had proven themselves 
 good pastors, men able to instruct the people and in- 
 spire the pastors. They were to be called Evangel- 
 ists, not to hold meetings, but to make brief visits to 
 the churches, one day being usually as much time as 
 could be given to a church. They were to introduce 
 the plans for reaching the people. Missions, Educa- 
 tion, Sunday Schools and Church Development Avere 
 to be their themes. A better Support for Pastors and 
 the Pastors giving more time to their ministry, were 
 to be insisted upon too. Our Colleges, the Howard 
 and the Judson, w^ere to be talked about and subscrib- 
 ers secured for the Alabama Baptist. 
 
 It was the first move in the State looking to the 
 
132 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 organization of our Baptist forces — nobody had any 
 idea of the strength of the denomination. 
 
 It was a daring venture, a broad scheme that looked 
 to the upbuilding of every interest. Missions was to 
 be the great theme, for which subscriptions were to be 
 taken, to be paid in the fall at the Associations. It 
 was stipulated that the Evangelists were to collect 
 their own salaries on the field. 
 
 Think of the Boldness of the Scheme! They were 
 to go over the field, without scrip (greenbacks). They 
 were to send appointments, without invitation, to the 
 churches, asking the people to assemble and furnish 
 dinner for all who might attend. 
 
 Meantime, what was the Evangelist to do for money 
 to support the family and pay his expenses ? He must 
 furnish it himself, depending on the pledges he took, 
 to be paid. 
 
 Fortunately, there was no "High Cost of Living" 
 and the "Profiteer" was not heard of, in those days. 
 Hotels and railroads were not much used. 
 
 Southern hospitality stood well the test; the preach- 
 ers were received into the homes and the churches, 
 as the Angels of God. 
 
 Looking at the conduct of the Evangelists, the 
 Churches, or the Members, we may well exclaim : Ver- 
 ily, there were Giants in those days! Giants in endur- 
 ance, and Giants in Christian hospitality. 
 
 I have devoted much space to T. M. Bailey, he richly 
 deserves it, for he was the Moses God sent to lead 
 his people through the Wildnerness into the glorious, 
 day we now enjoy. 
 
 CHAPTER 6. 
 
 In 1877 at Gadsden the Convention sermon was 
 preached at night, by the alternate, W. B. Crumpton, 
 the principal, Josephus Shackelford, being absent. On 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 133 
 
 some account this fact of history does not appear in 
 the Minutes. Perhaps the sermon wasn't much, but I 
 tried it on another congregation down South and a 
 very thoughtful Methodist said : "Brother Crump- 
 ton, I am much interested along the line of your ser- 
 mon today and I want to give it as my judgment, you 
 ought to preach it as long as you live-" I took his 
 advice and not many times have I failed to preach it, 
 where I preached twice. The text was : "Am I My 
 Brother*s Keeper?" That sermon fits everywhere. 
 It fixes responsibility on every man. One need not 
 use that text every time, the Bible is full of texts to 
 fit the sermon. 
 
 There was something wrong with the Alabama 
 Baptist as indicated by a report by Dr. Joshua Foster, 
 one of the best men in the body. Probably the Con- 
 vention there gave the paper to John West, Dr. Wink- 
 ler to be the editor, assisted by Renfro and a lot of 
 corresponding editors. The Convention seemed to 
 feel relieved when it was done. The trouble prob- 
 ably was, there were too msuny who believed they were 
 bom editors. In giving it away, the Convention re- 
 served the right to a refusal, in case the paper should 
 be sold. 
 
 I have made frequent mention of 
 
 My belief in the Guiding Hand and the evidences 
 of its reality. Some may call my Providential Indica- 
 tions, only coincidences, more or less interesting, ac- 
 cording to the bent of the mind of the writer, but I 
 prefer to read God into the story, as I have abundant 
 reason to do, according to my reading of His Word. 
 
 I was in God's School from the start. 
 
 The 28 years in the Secretaryship was the Goal. 
 
 I had to be in all sorts of schools to properly fill the 
 place. 
 
 I needed to know more of city life. I had been 
 much in cities, but I knew nothing of their church 
 
134 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 life and the problems confronting them. So the good 
 Hand of the Lord led me, without the least effort 
 on my part, from the farm to 
 
 My Ministry in Meridian, Mississippi. 
 It was not a great city, but city enough for His pur- 
 pose in me. The church was one of the first to respond, 
 years before, when their good pastor, J. B. Hamber- 
 lin made an appeal in the Baptist Watchman, for as- 
 sistance to educate a young preacher. 
 
 When they made that contribution, they knew noth- 
 ing of me except as the pastor, who was also the Edi- 
 tor of the paper, spoke of me. The appeal in the paper 
 reached many more in the State — thus the Baptists 
 of Mississippi, gave me a start at a most opportune 
 time, little dreaming that I would ever be led to 
 their field. 
 
 Eleven years after they made their contribution; 
 over in Alabama, on my farm in the fall of the year, 
 I got a letter. It was from Capt. Wm. H. Hardy, say- 
 ing the church had called me. The salary was named 
 at $900. I had not accepted one of the numerous calls 
 from the churches. I had just arranged my affairs for 
 the next year so that I would not be so tied. down to 
 business. Here was a chance to do just what I had 
 been longing to do — to give all my time to the min- 
 istry. What should I do? 
 
 If my prayers had been sincere, there was but one 
 thing for me to do. They called without seeing me ; I 
 accepted without seeing them. The salary was very 
 small, house rent to be paid out of that, but the income 
 from the farm would splice out. 
 
 I say nothing of the battles the good wife had to 
 fight, in leaving her old parents all alone. When I think 
 of that, even to this day, I weaken and feel that maybe 
 I ought not to have allowed her to make the sacrifice. 
 But I am sure, she remembered the promise of the 
 IMaster to those who left father or mother, for His 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 135 
 
 sake and the gospel. It all worked out in the end, and 
 she was very happy over the results. 
 
 How I learned in Meridizui, about church troubles! 
 
 I had never dreamed that a church would get into such 
 tangles. Our prayer meetings were turned into debat- 
 ing societies. In Corinth, it could not have been 
 worse, only there were no scandals, but factions ga- 
 lore. 
 
 An old Methodist brother said: ''Brother Crumpton, 
 I tell you, what I told our people last night at prayer 
 meeting. We had an awful time — plum awful. It was 
 way after bed time before w^e left the church. I told 
 them that we were the contrariest set of folks I ever 
 saw. I said : Why can't we get along without fuss 
 like the Baptists ? They used to have their troubles, 
 but since the young preacher came, they have all 
 quieted down and you never hear of any trouble among 
 them.' " I broke away at that, w^hile it was all good, 
 I was afraid he was going to say some body corrected 
 his statement. The night he had spoken of, w^as one of 
 our worst. I told my people of the conversation at 
 the next meeting and it did them good. 
 
 In 1878, in the summer, the Yellow Fever began to 
 be talked about — finally it reached us. Every body 
 w^ho could, left the city — of course the preachers re- 
 mained. Then followed six or eight weeks of anxiety 
 and distress. Our old parents were in Alabama, wife 
 and children five or six miles in the country, with 
 shot gun quarantine on, all business suspended, pas- 
 senger trains going through with windows down, no 
 trains except a local, bringing mail and supplies and 
 going away with mail thoroughly fumigated. The 
 only business houses open, were the drug stores and 
 saloons, to supply booze for the drinkers, to keep them 
 from being afraid. Liquor will make a coward brave. 
 
 Speaking of schooling. I had a new lesson every 
 day and sometimes everv hour. I learned how to trv 
 
136 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 to comfort people in deep distress and often I failed; 
 how to pray in the homes, and, where not to pi*ay au- 
 dibly; how to talk to the dying; and, how to manage 
 nurses — oh, the lessons I did learn! 
 
 The sustaining power of religion, I saw demonstrat- 
 ed time and again. 
 
 The utter depravity of msin, I saw too. Here is an 
 instance : A young sister refused all proffers of help 
 to relieve her, with her only brother. I saw them 
 every day and saw that all their wants were supplied. 
 The young man \vas on the mend. His sister on the 
 verge of collapse, for the want of sleep, yielded one 
 night to the importunities of a wretch who claimed 
 to have been sent by the committee to relieve her. She 
 knew of only one committee, the one her pastor was 
 on. Her brother was doing well and joined in an 
 appeal to her to rest. Far in the night, she was roused 
 to find the nurse drunk and her brother raving in de- 
 lirium. There she had to wait and see her brother 
 die, all alone. The neighbors were all gone ; there were 
 no phones. The drinking, gambling crowd had or- 
 ganized a rival' relief committee, so they might adver- 
 tise and have money sent to them. That drunken rascal 
 was driven from the town and the committee, under 
 threats, disbanded. 
 
 A beautiful girl, a member of my church, was ill, 
 but her doctor-father insisted, she only had malarial 
 fever. In a few days the fever seemed to leave her. 
 I passed down the street and found her reclining in 
 bed, taking a little breakfast. We were all so happy, 
 for she was a universal favorite. Returning, a little 
 after noon, I found her dying. A lovely daughter, sac- 
 rified because a stubborn father held out in the con- 
 tention that there was no Yellow fever in town. 
 
 One morning I was called to a home, where one of 
 m}^ members and his nephew had been stricken in the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 137 
 
 night and his wife had gone crazy. The trouble I had 
 then, would take a long time to tell. 
 
 After the first big frost in November, I was given a 
 leave of absence for a month. The first sermon I 
 preached, on my return, was from the text : "I had 
 fainted unless I had believed to see the goodness of 
 God in the land of the living." 
 
 His goodness to me and mine and to my people ; when 
 I thing of it, it overwhelms me, to this day : 
 
 I think I was an apt scholar in the school for two 
 years and have tried to use to good purpose the les- 
 sons learned. 
 
 The hosts of friends made and their extreme kind- 
 ness, is one of the sweetest recollections of my life. 
 
 The pull from Alabama of the dear old people, all 
 alone on the farm and my own father in his 89th 
 year, finally prevailed and I came to the final school 
 before I should undertake the task for which I had 
 been in preparation. 
 
 CHAPTER 7. 
 
 After my return to Alabama, I turned about a 
 year or two, serving churches within reach of my 
 home, until I was offered a place as one of the Evan- 
 gelists under the Board, I accepted on condition the 
 Secretary would go with me on horse-back for three 
 weeks. This he agreed to do — as a matter of fact, 
 he went with me for five weeks. My field covered 
 Perry, Hale, Bibb, Dallas, Lowndes, Montgomery, 
 Bullock and a part of Crenshaw. 
 
 The trip of which I speak, was advertised by let- 
 ters to the churches and by publication in the Ala- 
 bama Baptist. One day only could be given to a 
 church. Our manner of procedure was about thus : 
 Prayer and praise service conducted by Secretary Bai- 
 ley, who then introduced the Evangelist, a sermon 
 followed. A period of good fellowship was always 
 
138 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 enjoyed during the noon hour. In the afternoon the 
 Secretary explained the plan and called for subscrip- 
 tions to be paid at the Association. 
 Five Weeks in the Saddle! 
 
 The Secretary and I made our start from Marion. 
 My job, as I understood it, was : To get be- 
 fore the people every phase of the work of 
 the denomination. There was every variety of sin- 
 ner in the congregations, together with backsliders 
 and indifferents ; many Hardshells and their children, 
 with all their prejudices against Missions, their oppo- 
 sition to Sunday Schools and Ministerial Education ; 
 among the church members, were the discouraged, 
 the indifferent and the uninformed. There were few 
 Sunday Schools and no literature for the schools. 
 The Judson and Howard were little known and indif- 
 ference to general education was rife, everywhere ; 
 Pastors were getting almost nothing for their serv- 
 ices and giving only a small fraction of their time to 
 the churches. 
 
 The Alabama Baptist, to become our strong right 
 arm of power, was very young, and subscribers were 
 to be solicited; Ministerial Education had more op- 
 posers than helpers ; There was no talk of an Orphan- 
 age, or of efforts to care for old preachers ; Liquor 
 was sold at every cross-roads by the gallon, or quart, 
 and, was regarded as the most valuable domestic med- 
 icine ; Besides, thank the Lord, were pious souls, pray- 
 ing and looking for the coming of the kingdom. They 
 had been looking forward eagerly to the coming of 
 the Evangelist. A bill of fare must be prepared 
 
 To ofiFer to these people. How could it all be put be- 
 fore them in one day and sometimes in one sermon? 
 Many different sermons were not needed, as conditions 
 were nearly the same everywhere. 
 
 An India Rubber sermon had to be invented, and I 
 invented it. Here is a hint of it : 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 139 
 
 "Therefore," Rom. 12th, 1st, is a pivotal word. That 
 was my text. From it I preached in both directions, 
 and covered mighty near the whole Epistle. To the 
 left, I brought out the Doctrines, beginning with 
 Sin. I pleased the Hardshells with the Doctrines — 
 Sin and Salvation, Election and Baptism. At the 
 same time I ruined the Soft Shells, who were mouth- 
 ing around, making light of Doctrine. Paul devoted 
 eleven chapters, talking about doctrine. Laying the 
 foundation. "What are we to think of those whr spend 
 all the time laying foundations and never build? And 
 what are we to think of those who propose to build 
 without a foundation. Both are alike foolish and un- 
 scriptural." All this comes from the left of the text. 
 
 On the right, we have the Building : Practical Chris- 
 tianity. Almost everything you can think of, that a 
 Christian ought to do and, not to do, is found 
 in the balance of the Epistle. What we should do and 
 what we should not do is brought out in the 9th verse 
 "Abhor that which is evil, Cleave to that which is 
 good." 
 
 A thing we abhor, we will not likely walk around 
 it and ask, if it is as evil as something else. A rat- 
 tle snake is a beautiful thing, but we'd be careful how 
 we linger to admire the deadly beast. Abhor it. 
 
 Cleave is a strong word — no tameness in its grip. 
 No taking it between the thumb and forefinger, ready 
 to let it drop. A death grip, such as the boy had on the 
 swinging limb, when he was about to drown. Like I 
 had on the first Green-back dollar I ever saw, when 
 I was a wounded soldier in Vicksburg. I didn't take 
 it lightly in my fingers and go slinging it in the air — 
 no sir, I clave to it and would have given my life rather 
 than to have parted with it. Apply this word to any 
 Christian duty — prayer. Scripture reading, giving to 
 God's cause. And what about the poor silly souls that 
 are always halting and inquiring whether things are 
 
140 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 good or evil ? Young folks about dancing, for instance ! 
 They think there is something wrong about it, or the 
 question wouldn't be asked ; then let it alone — give the 
 conscience the benefit of the doubt. 
 
 There are other chapters about the sermon, which 
 need not be told here. 
 
 The Nine months of Evangelistic service were rich 
 in experience to me. I used the railroads but little, 
 because of the schedules. Horseback travel made it 
 very hard. It was made harder still by reason of my 
 methods. When I got to a house, in the neighborhood 
 of the next day's appointment, I sent runners to the 
 neighbors asking them to come to the home for a 
 night service. This advertised the meeting for the 
 next day. Good congregations met me everywhere. 
 I was rained out only one day in the nine months. 
 I made much of the children's service everywhere. The 
 programme was about thus : Service at ten to twelve. 
 After we had eaten, while the table was being cleared, 
 I called the children in for a twenty minutes service, 
 then followed another service. By three o'clock, I 
 was in my saddle, on my way to the next place, five to 
 ten miles away. 
 
 Here is a sort of report of the work: I visited every 
 one of the large number of churches once and some of 
 them twice ; preached from one to three sermons and 
 traveled from five to fifteen miles a day. I was at 
 home in all the time, not more than four weeks and 
 turned into the treasury several hundred dollars more 
 than my salary. 
 
 Made Secretary. A year or two after the evange- 
 listic work, Bailey having resigned, I was elected to 
 take his place. He had given ten years and I mentally 
 reselved to give ten of the best years of my life to 
 the job. 
 
 This ends the period of my Ministry, except a couple 
 of years, beginning in 1915, after I was made Secre- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 141 
 
 tary Emeritus. I couldn't feel satisfied to be without 
 any preaching service, so I visited the little church at 
 Chisholm, a suburb of Montgomery. Brother George 
 Brewer was its first pastor. The Board had been 
 helping for several years. The people were out of 
 heart, in debt, without a pastor and worshiping in an 
 unfinished house. It was a great joy to be in the pas- 
 torate once more. Considering the state of my health, 
 I did a fairly good work. The LaPine Saints had my 
 service once a month, too. 
 
 The coming of Camp Sheridan, with ten thousand 
 soldiers, right near the church, made it all important 
 that full time be given to the church instead of only 
 the half time, I was able to render. I resigned to give 
 place to a younger and stronger man. Numbers of 
 soldiers were baptized and thousands of them heard 
 the gospel, before they went to their death in France 
 and in the hospitals. The State and Home Mission 
 Boards came to the help of the little church and fin- 
 ished the building — the Northern Baptists also helping, 
 as there were thousands of Ohio soldiers in the camp. 
 
 I might add, before I close with My Ministry: Each 
 year of my pastorate at Providence, I had a protracted 
 meeting, as I did with all the churches I served. My 
 preaching, as I have said before, was mainly to Chris- 
 tians and I had the pleasure of seeing my people grow 
 in grace, in liberality and in general church activities. 
 Ten or a dozen, were about as many as I ever baptized 
 as the result of a meeting. I never was in what was 
 called a great revival, where many turned to the Lord. 
 Usually, I had a brother to help me, some of my help- 
 ers would have roped them in by droves, if I had al- 
 lowed. I never gave my meetings over to my helper. 
 Probably I have been too conservative, but, on the 
 whole. I feel that my plan was the better. 
 
 Not being a soul-winner, has been a great grief to 
 me. ''Oh, the joy of a pastor's life," I might have ex- 
 
142 A BOOK OF AfEMORIES. 
 
 claimed, if I could have given my time to it unham- 
 pered by secular employments. The two years at Me- 
 ridian, covers the period of my real pastoral experi- 
 ence. 
 
 Rescue work was mine, rescuing lives which were 
 equipped for service, but the pull of the world and 
 business, were ready to engulf them. This clipping 
 from a late Alabama Baptist helps to explain it, at the 
 same time it gives my estimate of the B. Y. P. U. : 
 
 How I came to Believe in the B. Y. P. U. — A Personal 
 Experience. 
 
 I was never much inclined to take up new things. 
 Some of them are no improvement on the old. When 
 the B. Y. P .U. came along, I was inclined to think it 
 an unnecessary wheel in our machinery. The Sunday 
 School, I argued, would be sufficient. But the people 
 who had the matter in charge, got a place on the pro- 
 gram at the Greenville convention for a young brother, 
 who began by speaking of the great work of soul sav- 
 ing. That was the greatest thing in the world, and I 
 perfectly agreed with him, as did every one there, I 
 am sure. Then he asked : "Is there not such a thing 
 as a lost life? May not one have a saved soul and 
 the life be lost?" That was the centimeter gun that 
 killed all my opposition. 
 
 I recalled nine years of my own life that were lost, I 
 was a cripple, spiritually, for years and poorly served 
 the Master because of the lost years. There were no 
 Sunday Schools in the country in those days, no B. Y. P. 
 U., no efiFort, no pastoral work — nothing to develop, or 
 inspire the young. 
 
 Like the Texans, who drive the young cattle up in 
 the spring, brand them and turn them loose on the 
 range, the young folks were baptized and left to the 
 wiles of the devil. I can call to mind hundreds of lives 
 that were lost, after the soul was saved. 
 
Part Six 
 MISCELLANEA 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I will here finish, The story about my old Father of 
 
 whom I have made frequent mention. I have told 
 how the home was broken up after my mother's death. 
 I was the youngest, about thirteen. He thought he 
 had made good provision for me — his plans all going 
 awry, as I have described in another place. I have 
 told of his fondness for trading, I suspect as a general 
 thing, he got the worst of the trades. 
 
 I think a sort of benevolent feeling possessed him, 
 when he traded for old horses and oxen, to see how 
 he could bring the old things out. The curry-comb 
 and good feed soon showed their effect and sometimes, 
 he sold them to good advantage. 
 
 He took to reading botany and found out what roots 
 and herbs were good for and learned how to make 
 them into medicine — going on the idea that, some- 
 thing is growing out of the ground, which if properly 
 handled, will prove a remedy for ever}^ disease flesh 
 is heir to. Thus, without being a practitioner, he be- 
 came known as '^Doctor" Crumpton. What he had 
 been doing for old animals, he began doing for old 
 people and chronic cases. His simple remedies, going 
 on the principle : "Help Nature to relieve herself," 
 put many a man and woman on their feet after the 
 regulars had failed to relieve. When the Civil War 
 was on, the ports of the South were closed by the 
 blockade. The physicians could get no medicine and 
 were forced to come to him to make medicine for 
 them. 
 
144 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 He was a bitter enemy of calomel and drastic med- 
 icines, an advocate for little medicine and that in small 
 doses. In that day, it was utterly contrary to the 
 plans of the general practitioner, but now pretty much 
 adopted by all. He was a great reader, having a pen- 
 cil in hand always, while reading. "Never sit down 
 without a book or paper in your hand," was his insis- 
 tent remark to his dreamy, idle son. 
 
 He was an Apostle of Intensive Fanning; *'Inten- 
 sive, rather than Extensive Farming," was his slo- 
 gan, sixty years ago, when nobody practiced it ; now 
 it is rapidly enriching every farmer who pursues the 
 method. He demonstrated, by the cultivation of 
 patches, mostly with his own hands, that great crops 
 could be made on one third the land the average farmer 
 planted. Farmers admitted all that he said, but they 
 had lands and labor in abundance and went on in the 
 old way — so it has ever been and will be to the end. 
 
 Knowing he was right about Fanning, Medicine, To- 
 bacco and Liquor, he was everlastingly preaching. He 
 was not a preacher of the Gospel, but a preacher of the 
 most pronounced type along Humanitarian Hnes. A 
 modest, gentlemanly, persistent Missionary on the 
 principle : "Freely you have received, freely give." 
 Any old thing, one might give for his service, he would 
 receive. He could have gotten Confederate money by 
 the basketful and invested in in lands, which would 
 have made his children rich, but he seldom took any- 
 thing. His seed-sowing was not in vain. 
 
 Separating from him when I was a boy, I had no op- 
 portunity of learning any thing of his religious life 
 and experiences. When I w^as on a Mississippi farm 
 keeping bach, of which I have spoken before, when 
 asked to lead the devotions before retiring, he cheer- 
 fully responded and his baby boy heard for the first 
 time his voice in devotion. It was easy to discover that 
 he was used to talking with God. To hear him pray 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 145 
 
 in his old age, was a great joy to me. He lived to be 
 very old, his mind was a bit flighty at times, but as long 
 as he had breath, he never missed an opportunity to 
 impress upon all who came about him his ideas. He 
 thought not of himself but others. 
 
 I got hold of this somewhere: "An old man, his 
 bald head bleeding, came tumbling down the stairs 
 onto the sidewalk, a young man following, kicking 
 him. The people passing protesting bitterly, with 
 threats of violence to the cruel wretch, the old man 
 cried out: "Retribution! Let him alone gentlemen, 
 I am getting only wdiat is coming to me ; this is the 
 way I treated my father when he was old." The high- 
 est test of one's character comes with their treatment 
 of old people, especially old parents : Verily mistreat- 
 ment will bring its reward and probably it will come 
 first in this life. I pass this on. 
 
 I bless God for my old father, with his abiding in- 
 terest in humanity and that I learned the lesson so 
 well. 
 
 In Kentucky. I have spoken about my arrival at 
 Georgetown about Christmas, 1867. I was twenty- 
 five years old. I was fairly up in mathematics, but 
 woefully behind in other things. Of course I had to 
 go to the Academy (the boys called it the "kitchen") 
 among small boys. A fine old preacher, a friend of 
 mine, suggested that I study with him during the va- 
 cation and get into the Freshman class in College. I 
 was unwise enough to act upon his suggestion and that 
 was my undoing. I needed the drill of the Academy 
 for the year, to go on with satisfaction with the Col- 
 lege course. The Faculty graced me into the Fresh- 
 man, but I went crippling along — finally after two 
 years, I gave up the idea of graduation and quit. 
 
 The Lord overruled this great blunder, by giving me 
 a message, which I have used very earnestly in ad- 
 dressing thousands of students, exhorting them to lay 
 
146 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 their foundations for an education, citing my mistake 
 as an illustration of folly. The foundation being de- 
 fective the building was always uncertain. With a 
 smattering I have done something, how much more 
 could I have done if I had taken time on foundation 
 work. 
 
 Kentucky is a great State and probably the best 
 place I could have gone to school. I had absorbed 
 much in travel and in the army and the work of ab- 
 sorbing went on gloriously in my two years at George- 
 town. Some associations I formed there have been a 
 great blessing to me all my days. 
 
 Another Chapter About Kentucky: After being in 
 Alabama for a time, my old friend Davidson, became 
 President of Georgetown College. He had heard me 
 say, I was going to give to the Secretaryship of Ala- 
 bama ten of the best years of my life. Knowing that 
 the time was just about up, he had me called to the 
 Agency of the College. So that, after twenty-seven 
 years from the time we were fellow students at the 
 College, we were together again on the same old 
 grounds. 
 
 The people who looked into my work as Agent were 
 pleased. I was especially glad that the student body 
 increased — one year reaching 399. I launched a move- 
 ment for an Endowment to help poor girls. I believed 
 I could enlist the rich women of the State to estab- 
 lish it. I learned a lesson before I had long gone on 
 my mission : The men were more easily interested 
 than the women. I understand the project w^as car- 
 ried on after, a large fund being raised. 
 
 I learned much about Kentucky people of course — 
 some very surprising things. People call the South 
 Carolinians "Fire-Eaters" in politics. They can't hold 
 a candle to the Kentuckians. I was there in the days 
 of the Silver and Gold discussion. The most of the 
 Democrats were for Silver. There was no sort of 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 147 
 
 toleration for a man that favored Gold. I was a Gro- 
 ver Cleveland Democrat. I was discreet, but they 
 found out my views and some boycotted the College on 
 my account and the pronounced views of some of the 
 Faculty. 
 
 The Whitsitt Controversy was on too.. We boast 
 of the fact that the Bapitsts never persecuted — which 
 is a fact of history to be proud of ; but Kentucky Bap- 
 tists came dangerously near being persecutors of their 
 own people in that controversy. 
 
 One of the most spectacular incidents that ever I wit- 
 nessed was when the Long Run Association, which em- 
 braces the churches of Louisville, celebrated its 100th 
 anniversary at the old church, by that name. 
 
 Carter Hehn Jones, a defender of Dr. Whitsitt, un- 
 dertook to speak. Dear old Brother Powers, the Mod- 
 erator, wanted to be courteous and indulged the speak- 
 er, but the opposition would not allow. While Carter 
 stood in the pulpit by the side of the Moderator, the 
 opposers mounted the seats and called for the ques- 
 tion. It must have lasted an hour. Such behavior I 
 had no dream would occur in a section like that. Car- 
 ter afterwards said, he had always used the saying: 
 "It will be all right in the long run," but he never would 
 say it again. "The Long Run was all wrong." Con- 
 tending with the silver question among the Democrats 
 and the Whitsitt question among the Baptists, made 
 against my work for the College and was exceedingly 
 unpleasant. 
 
 I told some of my friends, when about to move away: 
 "Kentucky is a fine State to move away from." On 
 another occasion, maybe this was said on my leav- 
 ing too : "Kentuckians are a great people to give a 
 Denominational Agent a fifty dollar dinner at their 
 homes and a 15 cent collection at the church." I take 
 both of these statements back, since Kentuckv went 
 
148 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 for Prohibition and Kentucky Baptists went clear over 
 the top on the 75 MilHon Campaign. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 Criticising The Pastor and got Criticised. I was a 
 
 young preacher when I was teaching. I boarded with 
 some good, plain, country people, three miles from 
 town. They were members of the town church and I 
 put my letter in there. I suppose the pastor w^as a 
 poor visitor and those people complained about it. 
 "Smart Alex" like, I ventured to say to an old deacon, 
 that the pastor might mend his ways and give a little 
 more attention to his country members. The old 
 man turned on me with, "Young man, that is my pas- 
 tor you are talking about. I never let anybody criti- 
 cise my pastor. It is a mighty good thing for you to 
 learn now in your young ministerial life. Maybe the 
 pastor has not gone quite as often as he ought to see 
 his people, but he has a large church. They are scat- 
 tered over an immense territory and it is unreason- 
 able for people who are all in good health, to growl 
 because the pastor don't run his legs off to visit them. 
 Besides he. is a great preacher, he gives the people 
 their money's worth, when they go to hear him — he's 
 got to study hard. Now don't you encourage people 
 to talk about their pastor. You will know how it is 
 some day." When he was through, I said, "Deacon, I'm 
 sure you are right and I thank you for this faithful 
 lesson you have given me." That lesson did me good 
 and I have used it to good purpose through long 
 years. But I maintain : 
 
 If a preacher loves his people he will visit them 
 and he will get from them far more than he leaves with 
 them. His best sermons will be those suggested by his 
 visitations. The wise, house-going preacher, will soon 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 149 
 
 have the affections of his people, then all their com- 
 plainings, will be only harmless chidings. 
 
 Fitting a Kentucky preacher's speech on to a stingy 
 member in Alabama. A close-fisted member, who had 
 been reared a Hardshell, took a fancy to me and out 
 of his abundance, paid half of my salary. The eyes 
 of everybody opened wider still, when he took the 
 pastor and several others, in a new spring wagon, 
 behind a pair of fine mules, to the Association about 
 40 miles away. I had high hopes for my member, as 
 it was the first time he had ever consented to be a 
 delegate. 
 
 When I was in school in Kentucky, I attended a 
 great old Association. On some occasion, a propo- 
 sition was made that a collection be taken. A long, 
 lean preacher, talking in a slow, long drawn-out sort 
 of way, opposed, saying: "The delegates that come 
 to Associations are generally our most liberal mem- 
 bers — we pull them at home for money and when they 
 leave their business and their families to come to the 
 Association, we pull 'em again." I am sure the 
 speaker, talking on any other subject, w^ould hardly 
 have been listened to, but they voted down the col- 
 lection beautifully. 
 
 I tucked away that speech in my little noggin and 
 said: "I'll use that some day." Here I was at my 
 first Association in my native State. A brother moved 
 to take a collection for some purpose. I have no idea 
 what it was for. Young fool that I was, it made no 
 difference, I saw a chance to get off my Kentucky 
 speech and off it went. It took, of course, and the col- 
 lection was voted down, good and strong. When we 
 adjourned, my stingy member made a break for me, 
 putting his hand on my shoulder, he patted me saying: 
 'T'm proud of you pastor, I knowed you were brave, 
 but I didn't believe you'd stand up so strong for the 
 right in a place like this." When he was through I 
 
150 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 began to realize what I had done. I said: "My broth- 
 er, I want to beg your pardon. I will never make that 
 foolish speech again. I never dreamed I was encour- 
 aging the stingy members until you spoke." I have 
 ■ heard that speech often made by others and it is 
 usually as popular in Alabama as in Kentucky, but 
 never have I made it. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 My First and Last Religious Controversy. 
 
 Dr. David Adams, a physician, moved to Pine Apple 
 and opened an office. To my boyish mind, he was the 
 finest looking man I ever saw. He must have been 
 over six feet and weighed probably 200 pounds. He 
 was a fine rider — I see him now as he gracefully 
 mounts a fine saddler in front of his office, directly op- 
 posite my father's house, and rides away. He was a 
 Protestant Methodist, as I recollect. At Basket Bot- 
 tom, five miles away in the pine woods, the Christian 
 Baptists, as the Disciples were first called, began 
 a meeting, and a great sensation was created when it 
 was learned that Dr. Adams had joined them. After 
 a time the doctor married Miss Matt Blankenship, one 
 of the finest women of the country. He became a life- 
 time citizen of Pine Apple. He bought my father's 
 place, became a preacher and did a large practice be- 
 sides. 
 
 I mention this to bridge the way to an occurrence 
 many years later. Returning to Alabama from Ken- 
 tucky, I took up work in Dallas County. I went to Wil- 
 cox to visit my sister. At Fatama, Dr. Adams, with an- 
 other preacher, was holding a meeting. My sis- 
 ter insisted on having me preach at the Baptist church. 
 So the little boys and I went up on Saturday night to 
 Dr. Adams' meeting to have my service announced 
 for Sunday afternoon. The announcement was made, 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 151 
 
 and on Sunday afternoon the doctor and his assistant 
 took front seats, with Bible, pencil and paper in hand, 
 to hear the boy preacher. 
 
 The sermon was more noise than anything else, 
 made more unintelligible because of embrarrassment 
 caused by the attitude of the preachers. There was a 
 great congregation of Baptists, Methodists and out- 
 siders, and a few Disciples, who were a feeble folk 
 in those parts. 
 
 When I was through preaching and ready to return 
 to my sister's, the doctor insisted that I should accom- 
 pany them to Brother Mim's residence, where we 
 might talk over our differences. This I declined, 
 giving as a reason that I'd leave my sister next morn- 
 ing and wanted to be with her, to which he replied: 
 
 ^*We ought not to be afrsud to talk over our differ- 
 ences." I thought I could hear the ring of a challenge 
 in the remark, so I said: "Afraid, I'm not afraid. If you 
 insist we'll swap a few suggestions right here." This 
 was a pure bluff on my part, for in a controversy with 
 him I would be out at sea, without chart or compass. 
 Fortunately I had picked up in Kentucky, where his 
 people were numerous and extremely controversial, 
 all the essential points of difference between them and 
 others. I was especially fortunate, that I had at- 
 tended for ten days a meeting at Warsaw, on the Ohio 
 river, conducted by Brother Salin, a converted Jew, 
 who was espesially up on controversy with the Dr.'s 
 peoples; his brogue, the aptness of his illustrations and 
 anecdotes, I had gotten down pat. 
 
 I had sized up my antagonist as long winded and se- 
 rious. So, right there in the middle of the hot after- 
 noon and in the middle of the house, with half the 
 crowd on the outside, we began the spute. In a little 
 while the people returned. We were inching towards 
 the door, and finally were on solid earth, wnth the open 
 heavens over us. 
 
152 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 I dealt out my anecdotes sparingly in reply to his 
 long readings of the Scriptures and his comments 
 thereon. From the start the crowd was with me, main- 
 ly, I suppose, because of my youthful appear- 
 ance, and the high esteem in which my sis- 
 ter was held in the community. Many a time 
 when I was a plow-boy, June afternoons, it 
 looked like the sun would reach a certain spot and 
 hang there. I would go round after round, and there it 
 hung, as if it would never go down. Well, that's the 
 way the sun seemed to behave that afternoon, but it 
 was gone finally, and every one in that rural commuity 
 went to their homes to talk until far into the night and, 
 for many days after, I guess, about what had taken 
 place at old Enon Church. I met the Doctor many 
 times after — we were always good friends. 
 
 An Autocratic Preacher in a Big Association: It 
 was in a fine section of the State, just emerging from 
 the back woods period. The Association was a fine 
 body of people with many churches. Great wealth 
 began to be developed. The body had never done any- 
 thing, but most of the people were friendly to the Sec- 
 retary and the things he advocated. The trouble was, 
 there was no cai>able leader imbued with the mission- 
 ary spirit. One man stood in the way of progress. He 
 was aggressive and unscrupulous and bitter against ev- 
 erything that looked like progress, especially mis- 
 sions. The best and most intelligent people in the 
 churches, had no sympathy with his opposition, but 
 there was not a preacher to oppose his influence at the 
 Association gatherings. There were intelligent lay- 
 men who could have defeated his schemes, but they 
 were timid. The Secretary got a good chance at three 
 of the best laymen and delivered himself about thus : 
 "You three brethren see the situation here, I know it 
 is not according to your liking. You have no sympathy 
 with the old brother — ^\'ou can stop him and turn the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 153 
 
 tide towards progress. You owe it to the cause of 
 the Master and to the churches. Why don't you do it?" 
 One responded thus : "Brother Secretary, you fail to 
 grasp the situation in this county. I am practicing 
 law and I hope some day to be Judge. Brother 
 
 there, is in the Legislature and there is no 
 
 telling what he is thinking about for the future, maybe 
 he will want to be governor. Brother is al- 
 ready in office and he wants to hold on to his job. 
 
 That leader you speak of leads somewhere else be- 
 sides in the Association. We know he is not doing the 
 right thing in opposing missions. We are sorry for it, 
 but we are not in position to go up against him, for he 
 controls a lot of votes in this county." Of course, that 
 speech brought on a big laugh. The Secretary re- 
 plied: "You are treating that as a joke, but brother, 
 you never told a more solemn truth in your life " 
 Alas, that it is so. Politics, control men in religious 
 matters to a shameful degree. The old man is now 
 dead and so is the law^yer. The fruit of the seed-sow^- 
 ing of that day is hard to up-root, but progress is be- 
 ing made in that great section and the returns from the 
 churches are constantly on the increase. God rules 
 and autocracy, whether it be found in the Kaiser, in 
 a preacher or the Pope of Rome is doomed. But the 
 old autocrat had a preacher son who is not an opposer 
 but a helper. 
 
 An Incident at a Baptist Rally: At one of the Asso- 
 ciations I did not attend, an old brother opposed vig- 
 orously the work of the denomination, especially the 
 Mission Board. He made little impression on the au- 
 dience and, probably the incident would have been for- 
 gotten, but a brother representing another interest, 
 replied and showed the utter absurdity of the old 
 brother's position. Maybe, he used the old brother 
 a little rough. The sympathy of the audience was di- 
 vided, much of it going to the old man, though they 
 
154 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 knew he was wrong. The result was, he thought he 
 had scored a great hit and bragged about it. He ex- 
 pressed a great desire to meet the Secretary of the 
 Board, that he might do him up. Some young people 
 who liked the Secretary and maybe enjoyed a scrap, 
 wrote me. Immediately, a program was arranged for a 
 Baptist Rally in that section. Great crowds gathered 
 with dinner on the ground for two days. In those 
 days the Secretary put much store on a Missionary 
 map. On one corner was : "Ye shall be witnesses," on 
 the other: "Go ye into all the world." With that 
 map every objection can be answered in the most ef- 
 fective way and the people will be edified, especially 
 if the speaker is acquainted with missionaries on the 
 field, from the State. That was the Secretary's biggest 
 gun and he determined to use it first. After going at 
 a lively rate for an hour or more, he suddenly closed 
 with a request that the old opposer, sitting on the 
 front bench, should pray. He undertook it, but of all 
 the prayers ever heard in those parts, that was the 
 most awkward. He would make a break, as if he w^as 
 going to ask a blessing on the speaker, but his heart 
 would fail him. Then he would take another tack and 
 back off from that, after see-sawing back and forth, 
 he reached the terminal station. After dinner he rode 
 by the store, telling the boys he rekin'd he couldn't be 
 back next day. His opposition was never heard of 
 again. Later a very bright son of his, a young preach- 
 er, graduated at the Howard and now stands high up 
 among the best of our younger set of preachers. 
 
 Attacks on Board Repelled: It wasn't all smooth 
 sailing for the Secretary as the following incident 
 will show. 
 
 Coming into the audience room, when the East Lib- 
 erty Association met at Roanoke, I was informed 
 that a brother had just assailed the Mission Board 
 about its support of the pastors at Auburn and Do- 
 
A BOOK OF AIEMORIES. 155 
 
 than. The Secretary replied about as follows : "Ev- 
 eryone knows the situation at Auburn, it is near you. 
 The Methodists predominate, the Baptists are weak. 
 They say they are not able to support a man for all 
 time. They want to have preaching- every Sunday 
 morning and night. Out of six hundred boys, perhaps 
 half of them, or more, are from Baptist families. The 
 Board thought, one of the best ways to serve the de- 
 nomination would be to furnish a church home to the 
 Baptist boys, who went there to college. The church 
 agreed to pay so much, if the Board would do so 
 much. We presumed the church was telling the truth 
 when they said they could do no more, Brother Lloyd 
 who is present, was the pastor and he signed the ap- 
 plication. There are droves of Baptist men and women 
 here who have sons there, or have had. I wouldn't be 
 afraid to put it to a vote to see what they thought 
 of the Board's policy. I am sure they would sustain 
 the Board." All over the house there was almost 
 unanimous bowing of heads in approval. 
 
 "Then," said the Secretary, "There is Dothan. The 
 facts are these : "I was there four years ago and found 
 a church with a small membership, worshiping 
 once a month, in an old, unceiled building — that in a 
 town rapidly growing into a city. With only a casual 
 investigation, I found more than one hundred Baptists 
 w^ho didn't go to church — they were ashamed of the 
 building. They ought to have been ashamed of 
 themselves to have thought, or talked that way ; but 
 we must take people as they are. 
 
 I got Brother Burr of Columbia, to visit Dothan 
 on some occasions. In a little while he was 
 called. After visiting and rallying the forces 
 somewhat, the church petitioned the Board for 
 $200 aid. It was granted and Burr, a natural and 
 a well-trained mechanic, besides being an educated, 
 hard-working preacher, with a Judson graduate for a 
 
156 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 help-meet — and let me tell you she helped, he took 
 charge for full time, not once a month as of old. He 
 drew up plans for a $20,000 building. All the people 
 of the town became interested. Large sums were 
 given by outsiders, because they had faith in Burr and 
 wanted to boost the town by erecting this great build- 
 ing. Each year the church has paid, in contributions 
 to the denomination, more than we paid them. This 
 is the third and last year, when we will turn over to 
 the denomination an organization of over 300 members 
 and a church property worth more than $20,000, all 
 at the expenditure of $600 which the church more 
 than paid back to us each year. I want to ask, what 
 Baptist here will accuse the Board of bad financing 
 in that case. There's not a man who will rise and 
 say it." When I was about to take my seat, while 
 an announcement was being made, the big-hearted 
 Moderator, John P. Shaffer, drew me down to him 
 saying, "don't be disturbed about the East Liberty. 
 All this hullabaloo comes from men who are visitors 
 here from another Association." 
 
 CHAPTER 4. 
 
 A Few of the Great Women Workers I Have Known : 
 
 A great army of women, whose names are only re- 
 corded in heaven, have contributed to the on-going of 
 the kingdom in Alabama. In the New Testament it 
 is called "Ministering," and so it will ever be, the same 
 modest, unselfish service rendered to their Lord and to 
 His apostles, and, in these last times, to His servants 
 in their labors in building the Kingdom. The Alabama 
 historian tells us of Seven Womens Societies in the 
 State, which figured in the organization of the State 
 Convention in its first meeting in 1823. That was a 
 surprise to the men of that day and probably to the 
 women as well, for it is doubtful if one society knew 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 157 
 
 of the existence of the others. Little groups of loving 
 hearts, in times when women were not expected to 
 be active, covenanted together to knit socks and do 
 other things, to bring in offerings for their Lord and 
 His servants. 
 
 Not until the time when the organization of God's 
 forces began to be talked, did they venture to let 
 themselves be known. 
 
 Long after this, the position of woman in the activi- 
 ties of the churches, had to be threshed out, among 
 the Baptists of the State. Not a few of the preachers, 
 some of considerable influence, were opposed and oth- 
 ers were doubtful — I among them, I am almost 
 ashamed to acknowledge. But the good Lord saved 
 us from any wrangling about it. We were exceeding- 
 ly fortunate in having great women to lead the move- 
 ment. 
 
 Mrs. A. T. Hamilton comes to my mind first. A dear, 
 sweet soul she was ! A gentle woman ; never once did 
 she do an unwomanly thing. Brought up in the idea 
 that a woman should not speak before mixed assem- 
 blies, not once did she ever swerve from that idea, 
 though oft times the brethren would have been great- 
 ly benefited by hearing her. I traveled thousands of 
 miles with her in all sorts of weather and in all sorts 
 of conveyances. How she could edify and instruct in 
 conversation. How beautifully she could adapt her 
 conversation to the needs of her hearers ! 
 
 She had a prince of a man for a husband. He was 
 not a member of the church, much to her sorrow, but 
 surely he must have had a heart right with God. A 
 gentleman of the old school, was he. His devotion to 
 his wife was beautiful. "Will you have any one to 
 meet you at the train at this late hour?" I asked as 
 we were nearing Birmingham on a belated train. "No 
 doubt about that," she confidently replied. Sure 
 
158 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 enough, there was the Colonel ; he had been waiting 
 for hours. 
 
 Our Woman and Sunbeam work was put on a sure 
 foundation by Mrs. Hamilton. What a band of work- 
 ers she had to help her too, in the beginning ! Mrs. 
 I. C. Brown and Mrs. Stratton and others. Mrs. Brown 
 to be followed by her noble daughter, Hermian, now 
 Mrs. Malone. 
 
 Kathleen Mallory: I have known since she was a 
 small child. Reared in such a home, in such a church, 
 she was wonderfully equipped for the work to which 
 she was called. How God has honored and crowned 
 her work ! 
 
 The first Secretary of the W. M. U. of Alabama, 
 now the great leader of the Baptist Women of the 
 South, her valuable services are every where acknowl- 
 edged. 
 
 A pall of sadness swept over Alabama when 
 the tragic death of Julia Ward was flashed over the 
 wires. Burned to death, just as she was entering upon 
 her duties as the successor of Miss Mallory. I knew 
 her devoted parents well. Captain W. C. Ward, a brave 
 Confederate soldier, long a member of the Mission 
 Board, was one of the most active laymen among the 
 Baptists of the State. They were proud of their no- 
 ble daughter and when she was called to the respon- 
 sible place of leader in the woman's work, their hearts 
 overflowed with enthusiasm, for they well knew how 
 she had been prepared in every way for the respon- 
 sible place. 
 
 Flossie White: I knew well in her preacher-fath- 
 er's home. Her fortunate Missionary-husband, I never 
 saw, until he returned as the husband of that noble 
 girl. God gave her a sweet disposition, winning man- 
 ners and a tender heart and I know she found easy 
 entrance into the hearts of the heathen. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 159 
 
 Lois Davie: A beloved daughter of our Consecrated 
 Colporter, Bunyan Davie, wdth her princely husband, 
 Napier, a Georgian, who was a beloved pastor in Ala- 
 bama and Miss Alice Huey, from our greatest county 
 of Jefferson, I can only mention. Both were Judson 
 girls and they are honored by the brotherhood as a 
 part of Alabama's contribution to the great world's 
 evangelization. 
 
 Addie Cox, of Pickens, a graduate of Central Col- 
 lege, Tuscaloosa, came to the Mission rooms as one 
 of the workers in the W. M. U. department. Her 
 bouyant spirit, felt the pull of the outdoor work and 
 she became an indomitable field worker. In every 
 corner of the State her bright face and charming ways, 
 won the hearts of old and young, while she waited 
 impatiently for two years for the answer of the For- 
 eign Board to her application, to go to the heathen. 
 She is to be heard from some day as one of our 
 greatest. 
 
 How my heart runs out to the missionary force on 
 the Foreign field ! They do well the work there, 
 thinking only of the task before them, little dreaming 
 of the work they are doing in the home land as well 
 Their devotion is talked of around the family circle 
 and in the churches — even the children know their 
 names. 
 
 They are the inspiration to keep alive the missionary 
 zeal in those at home and they are the magnets who 
 draw others into the work. 
 
 Martha Foster, probably the first woman missionary 
 to go from the South, became the wife of Dr. Craw- 
 ford. Doubtless her letters influenced others to go. 
 In the same Association, the Union, Miss Thornton, 
 went and now Addie Cox, doubtless influenced by the 
 consecrated Foster girl, of whom she had heard all 
 her life. 
 
160 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 A letter from Miss Lottie Moon in the Foreign 
 Mission Journal, put the missionary thought in the 
 mind of Miss Willie Kelly. So it has gone from the 
 start, God using one to influence another. 
 
 Maybe one of the joys of heaven, will be the gather- 
 ing up of the threads of influence and tracing them in 
 all their ramifications. 
 
 Laura Lee Patrick and Clyde Metcalf are two names 
 which will live forever, for what they have done in or- 
 ganizing the women and the young people so thor- 
 oughly in Alabama. The foundations were well laid 
 and they have been wise and faithful in their building. 
 Looking at the beautiful, systematic way these girls 
 and the women have done, I have often been ashamed 
 of myself and the men. 
 
 I could sit for hours here and follow my wanderings 
 over the State and call up from memory the royal wo- 
 men who ministered to me in my travels. Many of 
 them are now with the Master who knows all they did 
 for his servants. Maybe some of them who are yet 
 alive, will see these lines of appreciation, though their 
 names cannot be recalled. 
 
 A Few of the Missionaries I Have Known. 
 
 John McCollum: A Dallas County farm boy, a fa- 
 vorite with all who knew him, a born gentleman, 
 bright and eager to learn ; a good student, he won the 
 heart and hand of Dru Collins, a Hale County girl, a 
 graduate of the Judson. When God touched his heart 
 to leave all and go to Japau, he yielded and entered 
 upon the task joyfully. This is the mental picture I 
 have drawn of him ; but it is so inadequate, I have 
 asked one who knew him best to touch up the pic- 
 ture for my Book of Memories, here he speaks : 
 
 "I was with McCollum almost constantly for five 
 years. He was my room-mate at the Seminary, class- 
 mate and yoke-fellow in every work. During all this 
 time, I never knew him to do or say the slightest 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 161 
 
 thing his mother might not have seen or heard with 
 pleasure ; or that would have brought a blush to the 
 cheek of the purest girl. Withal, he was one of the 
 strongest characters and one of the manliest men I 
 ever knew. He had the unbounded confidence of ev- 
 ery man of worth, with whom he came in contact. 
 When he went to Japan, he determined to preach the 
 Gospel to the people in their native tongue and do it 
 with ease. He really mastered the difficult language 
 and came to be one of the foremost preachers in the 
 Empire. In demand every where and utterly reck- 
 less as to limits of human strength, he sought to en- 
 ter all the doors open to him. The inevitable break 
 down came while in the zenith of his complete man- 
 hood. With the hand of death upon him, he fought 
 his battle for a few brief years and died at Seattle. I 
 have been told, that his last words, were: "Banzai! 
 Banzai ! the Japanese cry of Victory." 
 
 George Bouildin. from one of the finest families in 
 Jackson County, surprised his people by announcing 
 his purpose to go to the missionary field. I wish I 
 knew what the influences were that led him to this 
 conclusion. His has never been rated as a missionary 
 section. Indeed there was a time when there was 
 much opposition to Foreign missions in all that re- 
 gion. I am sure his going and his few visits on his 
 returns, have had a wholesome effect on his neigh- 
 bors. Good reports come of the work he is doing. 
 
 I have great admiration for meiiical missionaries: 
 Alabama has some to be proud of. Adrian Taylor, the 
 son of the President of a Rail Road, reared in a city 
 much given to frivolity, but splendidly educated and 
 prepared in every way to become a doctor, looking 
 about for the place where his Kfe would count for most, 
 turned his eyes toward China, He had been religiously 
 reared in a Christian home and in the old St. Francis 
 Street Church, Mobile. He won the heart of the 
 
162 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 beautiful and accomplished daughter of the pastor, 
 Annie Cox. Before they were married she knew of 
 all his plans and readily entered into them. Out of 
 the same family God called another, a younger broth- 
 er, Richard. He too, dedicated his fine medical train- 
 ing to the work in China. After serving the Board 
 for a time and accomplishing great things for God 
 and humanity, Adrian is now in the Great Rockefeller 
 Institution at Pekin, while Richard is distinguishing 
 himself in Hospital Work under the Board. 
 
 The noble family, the grand old Church, the De- 
 nomination and the State are all honored by the splen- 
 did offering these young men have made to the Cause 
 of Him who went about "curing all manner of sick- 
 nesses." 
 
 Another beloved physician is : 
 
 Dr. T. W. Ayers, a native of Georgia, but long 
 enough in Alabama for us to have a claim on him. He 
 was a man in middle life, with a good practice, a con- 
 secrated church worker. He saw the wide open door 
 in China and entered, the Spirit of the Master leading. 
 As he ministers in the hospitals and tells the patients 
 of the love of the Master and how the good Spirit led 
 the way of his coming, the heathen becomes interested 
 in the story, his mind is filled with wonder that one 
 should care so much for him and as he rejoices over 
 the healing of his body, his mind is filled with admi- 
 ration for the missionary and the love of God posses- 
 ses him and sends him out an evangel to his fellows. 
 And yet, there are men in civilized and Christian Amer- 
 ica, who are mean enough to cry down the medical 
 work of our Boards. Some of it comes from mis-in- 
 formation, but not a little of it is from unadulterated 
 meanness — diabolism of the blackest tjrpe. I have in 
 mind now, a man who is aspiring to a great office in a 
 Southern State and is likely to get it, who delights to 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 163 
 
 write cruel things about the medical missionaries, of 
 whom he knows nothing; all for the sole purpose to 
 pander to the prejudice of the readers of his paper. 
 
 CHAPTER 5. 
 
 My first attendance at Southern Baptist Conven- 
 tion: I am almost ashamed to undertake to tell it, 
 because, I got so little out of it. 
 
 I was like many another young fellow — just sloshing 
 along and carrying off only that which would stick, 
 with no particular effort on my part to retain it. Won- 
 der if most of us do not go through a dreamy state ev- 
 en after we become grown men ! In after years, it 
 seems unaccountable that we dreamed so long. I 
 preached a commencement sermon from the 
 text: **And the angel that talked with me came again 
 and waked me." If any young preacher wants to use 
 that text, I would advise him to preach it first to him- 
 self. I am persuaded most of us are asleep and some 
 will never wake. The angel comes, one way or an- 
 other, to do the job, but we are doped beyond hope of 
 arousement. 
 
 But to my subject: It was in Mobile, in my native 
 State, in 1873. I had been a country pastor for two 
 years, was thirty-one years of age. In these days, 
 we had a few papers, the Alabama Baptist was not 
 yet. The churches never' dreamed of sending a pas- 
 tor to the Conventions, and not many of the pastors 
 thought about going. It was easy for me to step 
 aboard a steam-boat and float to Mobile. Doctor Boyce 
 was the President, M. B. Wharton was Secretary, and 
 Doctor Tiberius Gracus Jones preached the sermon. 
 Only two things made a lasting impression on my mind. 
 
 One was the sermon J. R. Graves preached to a great 
 audience at the Broad Street Baptist Church. The 
 growling of the Landmark Baptists about his being 
 
164 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 put off in a small church, I distinctly remember. I was 
 among the complainers, but I have long come to re- 
 alize that it couldn't be helped. That was before the 
 days of auditoriums and before the days of great Con- 
 ventions, as we now have. The church houses furn- 
 ished ample room for all the delegates and a good au- 
 dience besides. Graves never preached that he didn't 
 "stir up the animals." Of course he couldn't be sent 
 to a church of another denomination for fear he would 
 flay them alive ; besides two or three hours was longer 
 than the fashionable churches could stand. Lincoln 
 said : "Those that like that sort of a thing, that is 
 the sort of a thing they like." We fellows that liked 
 that sort of a thing, never tired. I said to a starchy, 
 young preacher as we were coming away from Mobile : 
 *T remember seeing you out to hear Graves. What 
 did you think of it?" With a toss of the head, he said: 
 ''Pshaw! There was an utter disregard of all the 
 rules of homiletics." I hushed up, for I didn't know 
 the meaning of the word, and had to look in the dic- 
 tionary to find out. I afterwards repeated the young 
 man's remark to Doctor Teague, a grand old man up 
 country, whereupon he said : "Homiletics, fiddlesticks! 
 That reminds me: A preacher, who was considered a 
 very able man, was carrying on a meeting with no re- 
 sults. A country, exhorting sort of a preacher hap- 
 pened in and the congregation insisted that he be 
 heard. He put on the rousements towards the close, 
 and, according to custom, called up mourners. It 
 k)oked like the whole congregation made a rush to 
 give the hand to the preacher. The exhorter contin- 
 ued, until there was a great revival. The pastor talking 
 to the humble brother said: T can't understand how 
 my preaching failed and your exhortations succeeded: 
 How do you account for it?' 'Well,' said the brother, 
 *I know I can't preach like you, but 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 165 
 
 I bring down the simmons, and that was what we 
 was both after.* " Graves could certainly "bring down 
 the 'simmons,' " when it came to pleasing the strenu- 
 ous Baptist gang. But as a church builder, preaching 
 a world-wide gospel to move people to undertake great 
 things for God, he was a failure, as are most of the 
 preachers who are eternally whetting knives to go out 
 after the scalps of errorists. They get the scalps, but 
 the world is not evangelized. 
 
 I am glad I heard Graves and read after him. I am 
 all the better for it ; but long ago I have concluded 
 to weigh Baptists by what they do, not by their sound- 
 ness in doctrine. Soundness that doesn't move people 
 to open their purses, is simple rot. The worst heresy 
 on earth, is anti-missionism and omissionism is not a 
 whit better. 
 
 One other thing I remember at the Convention : 
 There were quite a number of fine young fellows from 
 the Seminary w^ith jim-s wingers and stove-pipe hats 
 on. They were flitting in and out and were often bois- 
 terous. General Lowry, an old Brigadier-General 
 preacher, of Mississippi, asked who they were. On 
 being informed, he remarked: "A bank of potatoes 
 must always go through a sweat. The boys are in 
 the sweating stage now." 
 
 The Sad Story of Pelham Heights! As this is an 
 important item. of x\labama Baptist history, with which 
 I had something to do, and it can be found nowhere 
 else, I must not leave it out of these Memories ; but 
 I feel like putting around the page a black border. 
 
 My heart was enlisted in the movement from the 
 moment I saw the first mention of "Summer Activi- 
 ties," which some of the States had successfully put 
 over. In the 1906 report of the Mission Board atten- 
 tion was called to it and a committee was appointed to 
 arrange for an encampment the next year, but some 
 of the timorous brethren suggested the amendment: 
 
166 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 "That no liability be incurred, that would involve the 
 Convention." The program was arranged and East 
 Lake was named as the place. Just before the time, 
 a street car strike was on and the committee, taking 
 cold feet, declared the Encampment off. The next 
 year the committee reported that it was not feasible 
 to undertake the Encampment so long as the Conven- 
 tion was held in the summer. Two summer meetings 
 were not deemed possible. 
 
 As the time of the Albertville Convention approach- 
 ed, in 1910, I took a day off and visited Shelby Springs. 
 Satisfied with my investigations, I requested A. G. 
 Moseley, one of the old committee and a man admi- 
 rably fitted for the job, to go to Shelby and bring to the 
 Convention a proposition. This he did, but for some 
 reason not a line can be found about it in the Minutes 
 of the Convention. However, the Laymen consid- 
 ered the matter from Brother Moseley, and appointed 
 a Commission to take over the Encampment Move- 
 ment. Thus it was taken out of the hands of the Con- 
 vention, and surprising to say, no mention was made 
 in the minutes for several years, and then only in an 
 incidental way. What its plans were, and what it ac- 
 compHshed and what it hoped for, was never mention- 
 ed in the way of a report, though it was known to 
 all, that successful sessions of the Encampment were 
 held for a number of years. The Commission, ambi- 
 tious to do something worthy the denomination, pur- 
 chased 55 acres of mountain land a mile from Pelham, 
 20 miles south of Birmingham, on the L. & N. Build- 
 ings were erected and equipped, a graded road circled 
 around the mountain and water and electricity were 
 provided. 
 
 Never were people so happy over anything! Glo- 
 rious fellowship of the saints Ave enjoyed for eight 
 years. But alas, debts had been incurred, interest and 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 167 
 
 insurance had to be paid, and constant repairs called 
 for the ready cash. 
 
 The property could be used for only about six weeks 
 in the year, and never until just before the closing out 
 did we learn how to make it pay its way. Worse 
 still, if possible, a caretaker could not be had, and the 
 vandals had free swing to pillage and destroy. Added 
 to all other misfortunes and mishaps, the war came on. 
 So Pelham had to be abandoned. The property and 
 debts were all turned over to the Convention. 
 
 A Colossal Baptist Blunder, some one may call it. 
 But where is the mathematician who can figure out 
 in dollars and cents the value of Spiritual Efforts? 
 The blessings that came to the Baptists of Alabama in 
 the eight years of effort put forth at Pelham, are far 
 beyond the value of the money spent there. It was not 
 lost. It was only "a handful of com plzinted on the 
 top of the mountain ; the fruit thereof shakes like Leb- 
 anon." 
 
 The unity, the fellowship, the enthusiasm engender- 
 ed at Pelham, contributed in no small degree to the suc- 
 cess of the 75 million campaign, which came on later. 
 If the little streams that flowed out from that moun- 
 tain retreat could be gathered up what oceans of 
 blessings would be ours ! 
 
 Bailey and Colportage. Secretary Bailey conceived 
 the idea of establishing Permanent Colportage Funds. 
 The plan was to get a church or an Association to 
 raise $100 for a Fund, to be named after some old hero, 
 or the church. The idea was that the profits on the 
 books would pay expenses. Each colporter was to 
 give a bond of $100. I never saw a prettier thing work- 
 ed out on paper. Something over $2,000 was given 
 for the purpose, the Sunday School of the First Church 
 at Montgomery leading. 
 
168 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 We found out several things later. 
 
 Baptists didn't run over one another to buy books : 
 
 Some books they wouldn't buy at all ; 
 
 Books could be worn out hauling them about ; 
 
 Only a few men would make good Colporters, but 
 almost every man without a job, was willing to try; 
 
 Some Colporters were not honest; 
 
 Some bondsmen would allow themselves sued be- 
 fore they would settle for a defaulter ; 
 
 Baptists were not a reading people, was the sad- 
 dest discovery of all. 
 
 When I became Secretary, I began to try to get set- 
 tlements with the colporters. I had a lawsuit with one 
 man, a Presbyterian, who went on the bond of a ne- 
 gro Baptist preacher. I won the case, but that was 
 my last lawsuit. I compromised everything for any- 
 thing. I found hundreds of dollars were due on open 
 account — most of which I never collected. Finally, I 
 found myself in possession of $1500 worth of second- 
 hand books and, maybe, $500 in money. 
 
 It was an awful waste of time to the Secretary, as I 
 had not a soul to help in the office. I didn't write the 
 most legible hand, but I kept up my correspondence, 
 after a fashion. The Secretary became deeply inter- 
 ested in the book business and firmly impressed with 
 its value to our people. All the losses were well 
 spent, to impress that thought upon him, as subse- 
 quent facts will show. 
 
 To organize a Colportage Board to be located at 
 Opelika. Books valued at $1,188.17, accounts to be 
 collected $583.90 and $600 in cash were turned over to 
 the new Board. The Secretary felt sure trouble would 
 come and, it did. A few members of the new Board 
 sought to make the Colportage Board the Board of the 
 Convention. They clamored for a corresponding Sec- 
 retary, besides an office Secretary. Friction was ere- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 169 
 
 ated by the two boards occupying the same territory, 
 each appealing to the same constituency for funds. 
 
 The Secretary of the Mission Board persisted in at- 
 tending the Associations in East Alabama, as he had 
 been doing before. This annoyed some members of 
 the Opelika Board. 
 
 Not all the members of that Board approved of all 
 that was said and done, but they, peaceable set that 
 they were, kept quiet, while others raved. The fric- 
 tion was unpleasant and the denomination was becom- 
 ing divided. The matter was finally settled at the 
 Convention at Anniston, three years after the organi- 
 zation of the Colportage Board, in what was called a 
 "Compromise." The two Boards were consolidated 
 and located at Montgomery — the Corresponding Sec- 
 retary of the Mission Board and the Office Secretary 
 of the Colportage Board being retained. The Mis- 
 sion Board assumed all the debts of the Colportage 
 Board, of which there were many, and took back a 
 stock of second-hand books. 
 
 So ends chapter two on Colportage. While I am at 
 it, I had as well give here chapter three. 
 
 When I resigned to go to Kentucky, W. C. Bledsoe 
 of East Alabama, was chosen as my successor. 
 
 When I took up the task again, three years later, I 
 found that the book business had been closed out, by 
 order of the Board, never again to be taken up. In 
 the final settlement, all the remaining stock of books 
 had been turned over to the office Secretary, 
 who undertook to run it as a side line. 
 
 I was unhappy over the loss of the '^Permanent 
 Fund" which I had helped much in establishing. I was 
 sure our people needed to becom'e a reading people 
 and the best mission work that could be done was to 
 work at the business. That Permanent Fund was a 
 Trust Fund. It was not honest to give up trying to 
 save it, so, without saying anything to the Board about 
 
170 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 it , I began to rebuild the walls that had been thrown 
 down. 
 
 First I aboHshed the credit system. Some Baptists 
 are forgetful about small debts. My plan was to take 
 two or three good books on my trips. Before I made 
 my speech, or preached my sermon, in every place, 
 I exhibited these books, went over in brief the table of 
 contents and after the sermon, took orders for them. A 
 small profit from every such sale went into the Fund. 
 I would close my speech about the books by saying, I'd 
 be glad to have something for the Colportage and 
 Tract Fund. No collections were taken, but brethren 
 would hand me something for it. Thus the work of 
 rebuilding went on, until now in 1919, we have a fund 
 of $2,979.83 besides a large stock of books, a Colporter 
 in the field, traveling in an Auto^ selling thousands of 
 books and distributing many thousands of tracts. The 
 Fund is secure, by loaning the unused part to the Mis- 
 sion Department of the Board at 6%, and paying the 
 Colporter a salary out of the Mission funds. 
 
 After all the mistakes and blunders, something has 
 come of Colportage in Alabama, of which I am most 
 happy. We will probably make other mistakes, but 
 no mistake would be comparable to the one we would 
 make, if we should settle down to the idea that Bap- 
 tists cannot become a reading people. That would be 
 the same as to decree them to an inferior place in the 
 world. I would be most happy if, before I am called 
 home, I could see the Colportage Fund grow to $10,000. 
 That would give a good working capital, which we 
 very much need. 
 
 Make a Will, Do It Now. 
 
 "Property is Never Without an Owner. If you fail 
 to make valid disposition of your property by 
 will, the law directs who shall receive it upon your 
 death. A distribution made by law, may be alto- 
 gether dififerent from what you might have desired. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 171 
 
 Men should not be more indifferent, when they come 
 to make the final disposition of their property than 
 they have been in their lifetime, while striving to ac- 
 cumulate the property. They keep a watchful eye on 
 their holdings in the days of their strength and activ- 
 ity. Why in the end, should they neglect to make the 
 final provision which may protect the property from 
 dissolution, or wdiich may avert endless family bick- 
 erings. Will-making does not hasten one's death." 
 
 Montgomery Advertiser. 
 
 Sound Advice that Brother; Read it Again. 
 
 An old man of eighty, said to the President of a 
 Southern College: "I have a great property here. 
 All those who are my heirs, are well provided for. I 
 want to leave my estate to some good purpose. I have 
 been thinking of an Industrial Department in your Col- 
 lege, where poor boys and girls might come and learn 
 books and something on the outside. I want to find 
 out about Booker Washington's school in Alabama." 
 Of course the President was glad and got all the 
 needed information about the Alabama school. 
 
 On another occasion the old man said: "I wake up 
 at night and thank God for putting the thought into 
 my mind." Then was the time to have the thing fixed, 
 but the good President and his advisers thought it 
 need not be rushed. Alas, the news came that the old 
 man had suddenly breathed his last! That large es- 
 tate of many thousands of dollars went into the hands 
 of those who didn't need it. 
 
 Do it now. Remember Christ, your best Friend. 
 
 Administer on Your Own Estate is a Better Way. 
 Dr. S. S. Sherman, first President of Howard College, 
 was greatly loved by the Marion people. Before 
 the civil war he moved to Chicago and became weal- 
 thy. When Camp Douglas was established in Chicago 
 and the Confederate prisoners were sent there, Dr. 
 
172 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Sherman was on the lookout for the Alabama boys, to 
 whom he ministered freely, thus endearing himself 
 more than ever to the people of the State. After I be- 
 came better acquainted with the Howard, I began to 
 hear from many sources that the word had reached 
 Alabama, that a liberal legacy would be left the college, 
 
 In the Sherman will. I met this rumor through the 
 years. Finally, when the end came, the College re- 
 ceived his great Library — very valuable of course, if 
 the buildings were adequate to house it, but a burden 
 as it was. If any more was named in the will, nobody 
 ever heard of it. Perhaps that was all he intended to 
 give, but hardly. Hence the heading: 
 
 Administer on Your Own Estate. 
 
 W. A. Alexander, a faithful deacon of the St. Fran- 
 cis Street church in Mobile, seldom missed an Asso- 
 ciation, of which he was Moderator towards the last 
 of his life. In speeches and in The Alabama Baptist, 
 the Secretary always spoke of remembering Christ, 
 your best friend, in your will. Whether these words 
 influenced Brother Alexander or not, no one can tell; 
 but in his will he did remember Christ, his best friend, 
 but alas — a contest ! 
 
 Another brother had long made it known he was 
 going to "Remember Christ, his best friend," and he 
 did, but alas, objections were raised ! Our Boards are 
 reluctant to go to law about delicate matters like that 
 and they suffer themselves to be defrauded rather than 
 stir up trouble. 
 
 It is a question whether or not the Boards are right. 
 If one is in his right mind, and no undue influences are 
 used, ought not the Boards to contend for their rights 
 under the law? 
 
 How One Brother Did It. Brother J. C. Bush, lib- 
 eral with his gifts all his life, remembered Christ his 
 best friend in his will at the last. All the Boards and 
 Schools received liberal bequests. The most beautiful 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 173 
 
 home in Montgomery, where I am now writing, The 
 Baptist Headquarters, is the J. C. Bush Memorial, to 
 stand through the ages. 
 
 CHAPTER 6. 
 
 Address Delivered at Alumni Banquet at Birmingham 
 November 3, 1919. 
 
 Howard College Fifty Years Ago: In 1923 the Bap- 
 tists of Alabama will be celebrating the 100th anni- 
 versary of their organization. They have seen stormy 
 weather in their long history. The first ten years the 
 storms came near wrecking everything. The year 
 1833 was an eventful year. If you meet a very old ne- 
 gro and ask him his age, more than likely you will 
 get this : "Boss, I can't tell you when I was borned, 
 but I was here when the stars fell." That was the 
 year of the noted meteoric showers. Among Baptists, 
 it was the year of the great split on the Mission ques- 
 tion, which extended over the whole country. The 
 Anti-Missionaries had waged an unceasing war on the 
 Convention from the day of its birth. Demons, from 
 the bottomless pit, never pursued a lost soul more re- 
 lentlessly. They had well-nigh accomplished the job 
 of destruction, for in that year only four delegates 
 found their way across the country to Grant's Creek 
 church in Tuskaloosa County. 
 
 Their names should be handed down to the Baptists 
 of the future: McCraw, Thomas, Ryan and Hosea 
 Holcomb. Hoping that others might put in an ap- 
 pearance the next day, they did not organize. Praying 
 and planning that night, resulted in something very 
 definite. 
 
 The starting of an Educational Movement. They had 
 tried Evangelism alone. They had sent men out to 
 preach, some of them proved to be the rankest kind 
 of Antis, who did more harm than good. This 
 
174 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 proved to them that ignorance in the ministry was 
 
 a great enemy; the remedy for their troubles was Ed- 
 ucation. 
 
 It proved to be a great Convention, if the 
 
 Manual Labor School, projected then, did prove a fail- 
 ure, three years later. The word went abroad, that 
 a strong element of the Baptist forces believed in 
 Education, It gave the Antis another chance to show 
 the utter worthlessness of their contention ; they were 
 opposed to everything progressive. It was a glad day 
 for them and a time of depression for the Convention 
 forces. 
 
 Five years later, 1838, at the same spot, Grant's 
 Creek, under the inspiration of a great sermon, preach- 
 ed by a servant of the King, they spoke out with the 
 fervor of former days, on the subject of Ministerial 
 Education. Aid to young preachers was voted and 
 money raised for the purpose ; they took high ground 
 for Temperance and Bible Societies, committed them- 
 selves thoroughly to the Sunday School movement, all 
 of which the Antis bitterly opposed. 
 
 God was leading his people to throw defiance in the 
 face of their enemies. A force of Giants had come into 
 the Convention and there was to be no more mincing 
 matters with the opposition. The coin was on hand too, 
 to show that they meant business — $2,000 in cash col- 
 lected and several thousand dollars subscribed for Min- 
 isterial Education, showed that the training of young 
 preachers was still a cherished desire. New blood be- 
 gan to tell: Bestor, Hartwell, Manly and Travis, be- 
 sides Edward Baptist, who had stirred them with his 
 great sermon, were men worth while and all felt the 
 stimulus of their presence. Thus, God has always led 
 His people. He may permit them to become faint- 
 hearted and their enemies defiant, but the tide will 
 turn if they are faithful. 
 
 Young preachers, though they had no Baptist school 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 175 
 
 to attend, were urged to attend schools convenient to 
 them and provision was made for the purchase of books 
 for them. Fortunately, Dr. JManly was President of the 
 State University and many availed themselves of the 
 opportunity to come under the influence of that great 
 man. In the course of years, some brethren were begin- 
 ning to doubt if there was real need for a Bapitist Col- 
 lege, since they had the influence of the President of 
 the University. Some thought that there ought to 
 be a halt in the discussion about the boys school, lest 
 it might be construed as opposition to the beloved Bap- 
 tist President of the University. 
 
 While the Convention is halting about the boys, I 
 will call attention to another matter: It is known 
 to some of the brethren, I am, in spare moments, pre- 
 paring some Memories; those personal, for my chil- 
 dren ; those of a denominational character, for the 
 Convention. If I carry out my purpose, there will be 
 a chapter, on Trios of institutions and men. One will 
 be. Siloam Church, Judson Institute and Howard Col- 
 lege, this to be follow^ed by another : Gen. Edwin D.. 
 King, Mrs. Julia Barron and Milo P. Jewett; then S. 
 S. Sherman, J. L. M. Curry and Samuel Freeman ; then 
 A. P. Goodhue, E. O. Thornton and David B. Goodhue ; 
 and last, J. T. Murfee, Jessie B. Lovelace and W. W. 
 Wilkerson. 
 
 Imagine, if you can, a thickly wooded, fertile sec- 
 tion, at a cross-roads, a shack of a store near by. That, 
 would about describe the place where the fine old town 
 of Marion now stands. It will be easy to put on the 
 trimmings, to make it a typical cross-roads, in any 
 new country, with the barrels of red liquor, its gam- 
 bler gang with their horse-racing and the like. 
 
 But, some of the new-comers brought their religion 
 with them. A cross-roads church was soon establish- 
 ed. Perhaps it was not hard to build, as labor and logs 
 were in abundance. Later a more pretentious edifice 
 
176 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 was erected of lumber. It was built in the only style 
 of architecture known to the carpenters in that day — 
 in the shape of a barn. The church must be named : 
 All readily agreed on the name of a church back in 
 the old home, maybe in the Carolinas, Siloam. Know- 
 ing its subsequent history, we can say, it was pro- 
 phetic. Think of the thousands of poor, blind sinners 
 whose spiritual eyes were there opened ! All over the 
 South, yea, all over the world and in Heaven, they 
 are blessing the name of the Master, whose good Prov- 
 idence led their feet to the healing waters of Siloam. 
 There were others, Presbyterians and Methodists, who 
 built at the cross-roads. They, first, conceived the 
 idea of establishing a girls school, in 1836. The Bap- 
 tists helped liberally in money and in patronage. Pos- 
 sibly, they didn't treat the Baptists fairly in not giving 
 them suitable recognition in the Faculty and in the 
 management of the school ; maybe, they didn't think 
 the Baptists were cultured enough for a job like that : 
 that sort of an idea obtains yet, in some quarters. 
 Whatever their thoughts were, we know now that it 
 was of the Lord. 
 
 It must have been predestinated before the founda- 
 tion of the world, that here, should become, for the 
 Baptists of Alabama, a great educational center. 
 
 Far away in Vermont, a young man, a Congrega- 
 tionalist, graduated, entered the legal profession and 
 afterwards, the ministry. His good Angel led him to 
 what was known then as, the far west, Ohio. There 
 he became a Baptist. Into his mind came the thought, 
 that he and his wife would journey South and find a 
 suitable place to locate a girl's school. Tuskaloosa 
 seemed to be the only place on the map of Alabama 
 known as an educational center. To this point his 
 carriage was headed. 
 
 At the proper moment, General King, of Marion, 
 gave orders to his colored carriage driver, to have 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 177 
 
 everything m readiness for a trip to Tuskaloosa, where 
 the Trustees of the State University were to meet. 
 General King was a wealthy planter ; he didn't have 
 much of what was called culture, but he knew what it 
 was and appreciated it. He had served in the Army, 
 had been to Europe and was a man of sufficient in- 
 fluence to commend him to Dr. Manly and, he became 
 a Trustee of the University. His wife was a cultured 
 woman. 
 
 At Tuskaloosa the two heaven- directed men met. 
 Into the new country, at the cross-roads, when there 
 was no sign of a railroad, where there was not known 
 such a thing as a postage stamp, where it took 
 twenty-five cents to pay postage on a letter, this 
 strange servant of the Most High came. 
 
 Milo P. Jewett became President of the new girl's 
 school at the cross-roads. Mrs. Julia Barron gave the 
 land on which it was built and, with the gift, went 
 her heart and life. General King became President 
 of the Board of Trustees. The naming came later, 
 doubtless through correspondence of the President 
 with the North, where Mrs. Ann Hasseltine Judson 
 was well known. 
 
 But my theme is the Howaurd. You will be, I know, 
 too gallant to chide me for lingering so long with the 
 old town and the girls. 
 
 God's plan called for another well-trained mind 
 to help in the great educational Campaign that was to 
 be on in Alabama. He touched the button and anoth- 
 er Vermonter; S. S. Sherman, struck the trail for the 
 South. A little time of initiation was needed, which 
 he got at the University as teacher ; then he was ready 
 for Marion, where he was offered the Presidency of a 
 "University for the sons of the planters, as the Judson 
 was for their daughters." Sure enough, when the new 
 President came he found in the printing office, already 
 in type, a flaring advertisement of. 
 
178 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 The Howard University. The modest young Presi- 
 dent had it changed to, 
 
 ''The Howard English and Classical School/' 
 
 Howard was born in January, 1842, opening with 
 nine small boys the first day. 
 
 Next Christmas, (1919), 49 years ago, I returned to 
 Alabama after nearly eight years of wandering — two 
 years in California, three years in the Confederate 
 Army, one year on a farm in Mississippi and two years 
 away at school in Kentucky. So, I missed by one year, 
 the period of which I was asked to speak ; all I have 
 said thus far may be taken as the large portico, to the 
 small house I will now erect. What I have 
 said may seem off the subject assigned to me, but it 
 was essential to enlist the full sympathy of the speaker. 
 The town of Marion and the old church, are so inti- 
 mately associated with the two schools, their histories 
 overlap ; one cannot be told without reference to the 
 other. 
 
 Of the Trio composed of Sherman, Curry and Free- 
 man, I knew nothing personally, except of the last 
 named. Marion people and old students of the How- 
 ard remember with tender affection, Dr. Sherman's 
 generous treatment of Confederate prisoners in Camp 
 Douglas of which I have already spoken. 
 
 J. L. M. Curry, a cultured gentleman, an or- 
 ator, an ex-Congressman, was chosen as the first 
 President after the war, with the expectation that he 
 would, by his reputation, rally the Baptist forces and 
 put the College on its feet. For some cause, perhaps 
 lack of support, his career as President was short. 
 
 After him, they sought a man of the people : Samuel 
 Freeman : With him I became acquainted in 1870. 
 He was not handsome, being disfigured by the loss of 
 an eye, but he was a rugged, commion sense, able 
 preacher. Entering school after he was grown and mar- 
 ried, he graduated, and finally became President of the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 179 
 
 College — a worthy example to be kept before every 
 poor boy. 
 
 I should have said before mentioning Freeman : The 
 Trio composed of Goodhue, Sr., Quin Thornton and 
 young David Goodhue, they were the heroes that held 
 the fort at a most critical juncture. When the slaves 
 were set free, the South lost its most valuable proper- 
 ty. The land was left, but it was worthless. If one 
 wanted to sell, there was no one to buy, for there was 
 no money. Confederate money, by the basketful, 
 could be had, but it was no good now. Nobody had 
 gold, for the patriotic Southerner had invested all in 
 Confederate bonds and all was lost. But the College 
 must go on, and the Trio that I mentioned, braved the 
 task. Salaries were promised, but deficits were re- 
 ported to the Convention. It is doubtful if the full sal- 
 aries were ever paid for years. The young tutor of 
 the post-bellum Faculty is yet living at Gadsden. 
 
 I became acquainted with that prince of educators, 
 Col. J. T. Murfee, soon after he came to Howard. His 
 coming was another instance where God intervened — 
 overruling the prejudices of men in high places, for the 
 good of His people. The University authorities, on 
 some account, made it unpleasant for Colonel Murfee, 
 the long time Commandant, so he came to Howard. 
 
 The last of my Trios, I came to know well when I 
 moved to Marion in 1885, on becoming Corresponding 
 Secretary of the Mission Board. Good looks is not a 
 bad thing for men to have ; this, the three, of whom 
 I am now speaking, Murfee, Lovelace and Wilkerson, 
 possessed. IMurfee, with his eagle eye, his iron grey 
 hair and military bearing, would attract attention any- 
 where ; Jesse Lovelace, with his clean-shaven, round 
 face and laughing eyes, made every one he met feel 
 good, while Dr. Wilkerson w^ith his raven, velvety 
 beard, his pearly-white teeth and his gracious smile, 
 impressed one with his sincerity and honesty. These 
 
180 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 were the three great men who, most of all, saved How- 
 ard College at a critical period. Murfee, the teacher 
 and inspirer, and his cabinet of two, were wise, dis- 
 creet men. They were compelled to be more or Bess 
 secret about much that they did and were much criti- 
 cised on that account. The paper endowment was no 
 more, and outstanding scholarships, if insisted upon 
 for recognition, would ruin the College. (See Riley's 
 History, 390 page). They failed in an effort to get 
 released from them. One Turner, sued the College ; 
 pending the lawsuit, which continued for a long time., 
 the College must be kept going. If publicity were 
 given to the legal matters, other claimants might bring 
 other suits. Meantime, brethren were clamoring for 
 an effort to be undertaken for an endowment ; but, if 
 money should be raised, it was liable to be gobbled up 
 to satify other claims. 
 
 The suit went against the College and a decree was 
 issued for its sale. Wilkerson and Lovelace bid it in, 
 not as Trustees, but as individuals. The College be- 
 came theirs for the time being. Only the Trustees and 
 a few others knew it. So magnificently did they man- 
 age the finances, that when the legal time ran out for 
 its redemption, they had reimbursed themselves for 
 their outlay and were ready to turn it over to the De- 
 nomination in such a way that no mortgage should 
 ever be put upon it. It was dedicated to the Conven- 
 tion. Dr. Geo. A. Nunnally, of Parker Memorial at 
 Anniston, a busy pastor, undertook the work of en- 
 dowment, which had been clamored for so long. In 
 the little time that he could spare from his pastorate, 
 he secured in good subscriptions a substantial sum. 
 The long night for the College seemed about to pass. 
 All were very happy over the prospects when the Con- 
 vention met. But their good feelings were short- 
 lived. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 181 
 
 What took place here in Birmingham in 1886 at the 
 Convention many who are here well know. 
 
 Those w^ho knew Dr. E. B. Teague, would never ac- 
 cuse him of doing a selfish or unkind thing. He was as 
 modest as a woman and never had the slightest dispo- 
 sition to thrust himself forward. Yet he was the man, 
 who with tremulous words moved that the Convention 
 consider the removal of the College. Probably if he 
 had not offered the resolution, it never would have 
 been mentioned and, by the next Convention the work 
 of endowment would have been so far advanced its 
 removal could not have been accomplished. 
 
 This courageous act, by this modest man, nearly 
 broke his heart for he loved the Marion brethren and 
 knew how they loved the College. It was a heart- 
 breaking ordeal for the mover and for the brethren 
 at Marion, and all South Alabama sympathized with 
 them in their bereavement. But for the magnificent 
 spirit of some of the noble souls at Marion, a breach 
 would have been made in the State Convention that 
 never would have been healed. 
 
 God intervened, and a miracle was wrought. Only 
 two years elapsed after the removal, when the Conven- 
 tion met at Selma, the very heart of the Black Belt, 
 only 27 miles from Marion ; a collection was taken for 
 Howard College of some thousands of dollars, to make 
 good the failure of Birmingham in the erection of the 
 main building. The election to the Presidency of a 
 South Alabama man, Dr. B. F. Riley, had its effect too. 
 South Alabama, in money and students, has shown its 
 loyalty to the school, its fathers had so much to do 
 with founding. M. B. Wharton, standing on the spot 
 where the main building now stands, is reported to 
 have declared that, "This is the very spot, which God 
 has predestinated, before the foundation of the world, 
 as the final seat of Howard College." He expressed 
 what has come to be the sentiment of the whole State. 
 
182 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 With a united people, anti-missionism dead and the 
 spirit of progress possessing us, nothing can retard 
 the growth of education. Only let us keep humble and 
 religious. 
 
 In speaking of the Howard and its struggles, one 
 man stands out prominently all alone, who must be 
 mentioned. I refer to Dr. J. S. Dill. He was a native 
 of South Carolina, who found a devoted wife in the 
 cultured community at Carlowville, where he taught 
 successfully 
 
 After the Civil War he became a teacher of Greek 
 and Latin in Howard College at Marion. He suffered 
 with the Institution when deficits in salaries were the 
 common report at the end of every session. 
 
 When the College was moved to Birmingham he 
 became President Pro-Tem for a time and managed 
 its affairs skilfully at that critical period. 
 
 No man stood higher in the estimation of the breth- 
 ren and the students. 
 
 As a church member he was loyal and a regular at- 
 tendant in the services as long as his strength per- 
 mitted. 
 
 His son, Dr. Jack Dill, still survives him and has 
 been for years a popular pastor in several states. 
 
 One more incident and I am done : At a Conven- 
 tion in Marion, the great Dr. Winkler, in an eloquent 
 address, said what had been said time and time again 
 by others : "Howard has a secret which insures its 
 success against all competition." 
 
 Whatever secret he had in mind, it ought not to be 
 a secret that Howard is a religious school. That is 
 used in some quarters as an objection. I believe it 
 ought to be more and more kept before the people. 
 The Faculty should ever be religious, pre-eminently 
 so — of the prayer meeting and Sunday School variety. 
 Parents there are, who are looking for schools for 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 183 
 
 their sons, where the word of God, the Day of God and 
 the Institution of God are regarded. 
 
 Opposers advise boys against the Howard, because of 
 the large number of preachers who are supposed to be 
 in attendance. To my mind, the presence of young 
 preachers is one of the Howard's greatest assets. Let 
 the number be increased and let the kindly hand be 
 ever extended to them. They will not only be a great 
 moral force in the College, but they will contribute to 
 its well being through the years, as they grow in power 
 and influence. 
 
 The Hard Side. There is a very hard side to the life 
 of a Secretary or a Missionary. The greatest of all 
 Missionaries puts it this way : "In journeys often, in 
 perils of water, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine 
 own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils 
 in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the 
 sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and 
 painfulness, in watching often, in hunger and thirst, 
 in fastings often, in hunger and thirst, in cold and na- 
 kedness. Besides these which are without, that which 
 Cometh on me daily, the care of all the churches.^' 
 
 Many of these troubles he endured, have been elimi- 
 nated, but enough have been left to make it very try- 
 ing for the man who would be a conscientious mis- 
 sionary. 
 
 All the hard things left to us of this day, of the list 
 of troubles Paul mentions can be more easily borne, 
 than the separation from one's home and family. Yet 
 that must be done if the Missionary is going to do his 
 best. 
 
 The pull of the home tie is strong with every good 
 man, but it must be severed, to measure up to the task. 
 The auto-mania, that possesses so many of our preach- 
 ers, I fear, is not being utilized to get the man of God 
 into more homes, but to get himself more easily and 
 rapidly into his own home. 
 
184 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 In the homes of the people the missionary is Hkely 
 to do his best work, especially if it is the home of a 
 preacher, who is somewhat isolated. 
 
 In : A Night in a Cabin," I tell of a conversation ov- 
 erheard, when the husband and wife were telling of 
 their pleasure in having the visitor in their home, the 
 first preacher they had ever entertained ; I was all 
 broken up, when the wife said : "Don't you know his 
 wife and little children miss him awful?" 
 
 My first word over a phone was in Birmingham. It 
 was Sunday night. I had preached at an Association 
 that day and was hastening to another meeting in 
 North Alabama. Between trains, I ventured to use the 
 phone at the depot to speak to my boy, when the word 
 came back : "You are wanted at home, your boy got a 
 message and has gone to Marion — something serious." 
 That awful night, I can never forget. All telegraph 
 offices were closed and I had to remain in ignorance, 
 until I reached home and found a precious three-year- 
 old, shrouded for the grave. 
 
 Another Sunday in Anniston, I was summoned home, 
 but no message could be gotten through after that. 
 No train left until 1 o'clock. I tried to preach with a 
 pall of darkness over me and knew not until late that 
 evening, that a dear girl, eleven years old, was dead 
 from an accident. My suffering was not to be com- 
 pared to that of the mother, who had to bear it all 
 alone. I was under a temptation to give up the work 
 and go back to the farm. His spirit intervened and I 
 was able to say, "I will trust him though He slay me." 
 
 One more crushing than these, I speak of in another 
 place. Others too that God only knows — perhaps I 
 shouldn't have mentioned these, but I hoped to say a 
 word to nerve the brethren to covet the hard tasks. 
 
 If my life were to go over again, I would not put in 
 less, but more of earnest endeavor, if it called for 
 greater suffering. It was for Him and my fellow man. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 185 
 
 How a Missionary Was Found. 
 
 A year or two after my entering upon the duties 
 of Corresponding Secretary, at the Bethel Associa- 
 tion, at Concord church, Miss Willie Kelly said to me : 
 "Did you know, I wanted to go to China? The first 
 trip you made to McKinley after my baptism, you 
 gave out some Foreign Mission Journals. There I 
 saw a letter from Miss Lottie Moon and was im- 
 pressed to be a Foreign Missionary, but there was 
 no chance, for my mother had just died and left me 
 with the care of my brothers and sisters. Now they 
 are so situated, I can leave them and the old feeling 
 has come on me again. After talking with her about 
 the seriousness of the question, all of which she seem- 
 ed to have already considered, I found, she was teach- 
 ing a small country school at a salary of $25 per 
 month. 
 
 Up to that time, the Board had given the Secre- 
 tary no help in the office. When he was absent, some- 
 times for weeks, his mail piled up on his desk, receiv- 
 ing no attention. When I suggested to the Board the 
 employment of Miss Willie Kelly, at a salary of $25 
 per month, the proposition was promptly accepted 
 at both ends of the line and soon the young woman, 
 became the first office help the Alabama State Mis- 
 sion Board ever had. She became a member of my 
 family, teaching my youngest children as she could. 
 This position she held for a couple of years, mean- 
 time studying mission literature and taking a deep in- 
 terest in missions among the young people of the 
 church and the Ann Haseltine Society of the Judson. 
 
 At the proper time, she made appHcation to the 
 Richmond Board, was accepted and I accompanied 
 her to Louisville, Ky., which had been selected as the 
 meeting place for the missionaries going abroad. From 
 
186 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 that meeting she turned her face to the far East 
 where she has faithfully labored for 27 years. 
 
 Her going away has been a great stimulus to the 
 Baptists of Alabama and it came at a time when they 
 sorely needed it. 
 
 The Secretary can say for himself, that she has 
 been a great inspiration for him too. He returned 
 from the Louisville meeting, where dear old Dr. 
 Broadus delivered the address, to his task in Alabama, 
 among the sleeping and, in many cases, opposing mis- 
 sionary forces, with a link of personal touch that in- 
 terested and charmed them. 
 
 This in brief is the beginning of the career of this 
 marvelously gifted missionary worker. Alabama's 
 honored daughter she is and feels a daughter of mine 
 also. 
 
 Some Things a Country Girl, Baptized by a Country 
 Preacher, Did in China. 
 
 Reference is made in the Book of Memories to Miss 
 Willie Kelly ; at my request she furnishes the following 
 facts : 
 
 *T went to China in 1894. In Shanghai I took up 
 work at the old North Gate Church where I spent 
 nearly a quarter of a Century, in the one Church. 
 There were only 12 women members, only one of 
 whom could read, with a small day school for boys, that 
 was all. The Church was entirely supported by the 
 Mission. There was only one Missionary family, no 
 single missionary lady. Marvelous things have hap- 
 pened in these years of blessed service. 
 
 In 1901 the Smith Bible School was built, by money 
 contributed by W. T. Smith, then living at Chapman, 
 Ala. At that place, many have been led to know Je- 
 sus as their Lord and others have been trained for His 
 service. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 187 
 
 The Boy's School, "Ming Jang," was established 
 in 1900 and I taught there. The Eliza Yates school 
 for girls, was established by Miss Lottie Price who 
 went out to China with me and for three years was 
 principal — it is now the largest girls school Southern 
 Baptists have in Central China, soon to be made a Ju- 
 nior. 
 
 The work at Qun-San, 40 miles from Shzuighai, has 
 been exclusively my work and from a remote 
 unknown place on the map of China, it has grown to 
 be a place of note in the mission of Central China. 
 At present there is a large boys school there and a 
 larger girls school, which has most excellent build- 
 ings — the main one being provided by the Smith 
 Brothers, Ed V. and W. T. Jr., sons of W. T. Smith, 
 with relatives of mine at Gastonburg, Alabama, 
 Presbyterian, the building is named: "The Smith- 
 Gastonburg Building," — there, within the last three 
 years, Mrs. Seaman, daughter of Dr. Yates, our first 
 missionary to Shanghai, has donated an adjoining 
 piece of land and another building, all of which is 
 used for the girls school, presided over by Mrs. Zee, 
 my beloved friend and co-worker. She is a 
 worthy daughter of Zung Ta Ta, who worked with 
 me for 25 years. 
 
 In 1918 a wonderful gift from Mrs. Seameui, made 
 possible a real home for the single ladies at the North 
 Gate and, in the same year, Mrs. Seaman gave near- 
 ly $20,000 towards the rebuilding of her father's 
 church and the Chinese gave nearly $13,000. This 
 great building is not to cost one dollar of American mo- 
 ney, it is to be an Institutional Church and is to ac- 
 commodate a large evening school of upwards of 400 
 young men. This school was begun by me two 
 years ago, when there were only 9 little boys the first 
 term. These young men. are in business near the 
 
188 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 North Gate and this evening school, is the only chance 
 they have to hear about Jesus." 
 
 Let the reader judge, if it was worth while to bap- 
 tize this girl and send her far away to China. She had 
 the Promise : "Lo, I am with you" and the promise was 
 made good. 
 
 CHAPTER 7. 
 
 The Story of Prohibition. 
 
 The story of Temperance in Alabama goes far back 
 in Baptist history. In 1826, the Bethlehem Association 
 sent out a circular letter urging church members not 
 to traffic in, or use ardent spirits. 
 
 In 1829, a circular letter went out from the Ca- 
 haba Association which the historian says : "Was 
 greatly needed, for there were many drunkards in the 
 churches and in the Associations generally throughout 
 the State." 
 
 In 1832, Fellowship Church in Butler County, re- 
 ported a Temperance Society numbering 80 or 90. 
 Some members of Breastwork Church joining, were 
 excluded from its membership. 
 
 In 1838 the Convention, in that memorable year, 
 when they began to do things, reported the cause of 
 Temperance fast advancing and appointed delegates 
 to attend the Temperance Convention to be held in 
 Tuskaloosa, December 10th. 
 
 In 1854 Dr. I. T. Tichenor wrote the report on Tem- 
 perance. He speaks of a petition which went up the 
 year before from the Convention to the Legislature, 
 asking that elections might be had by precincts, or 
 counties, whether license should be granted to sell li- 
 quor or not. These petitioners numbered 120,000 of the 
 population of the State. The Legislative Committee 
 reported : 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 189 
 
 ''It was inexpedient to legislate upon this subject." 
 
 The report tells of a Temperance Convention held in 
 Montgomery, where it was unanimously resolved "to 
 make this an issue before the people at the next gen- 
 eral election." 
 
 In 1880, at the Greenville Convention, when it was 
 proposed to restore to the regular order a 
 
 Committee on Temperance, which seems to have 
 dropped out, the proposition met with strenuous op- 
 position by a leading minister. His contention was : 
 "We had as well have committees on Card Playing and 
 Dancing, etc." However, the Committee was appoint- 
 ed as follows : S. Henderson, E. T. Winkler, W. B. 
 Crumpton, A. E. Burns, and D. P. Bestor. 
 
 The year following, at Troy, the Report was sub- 
 mitted to the Committee by Chairman Henderson; it 
 was agreed to, with one dissenting vote. 
 
 Because the Chairman and a member of the com- 
 mittee had locked horns the year before and again 
 in the Committee meeting, I was asked to read the 
 report. Dr. L. R. Gwaltney, President of the Judson, 
 made a great speech in favor of the report, and prob- 
 ably it was he who submitted an amendment, reading: 
 "That the Convention is in profound sympathy with 
 all movements which look to the suppression of the 
 sale and drinking of intoxicating liquors." 
 
 From the passage of that resolution, the issue be- 
 came one of the livest and its final settlement is due in 
 no small degree to the firm attitude of the Baptists, 
 over the State discussing it before the people. 
 
 In 1882 Dr. Gwaltney read a great Report and prob- 
 ably the longest ever submitted. In 1883 E. J. For- 
 ester said in his Report: "What part must we take 
 in this struggle? We believe the Convention as a 
 body of Christian men, citizens of Alabama, ought to 
 commit themselves. 
 
190 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 To labor for Constitutional Prohibition as a final aim 
 and for anything now, which may be best in our re- 
 spective sections which looks to Constitutional Prohi- 
 bition in the State and Nation." In three years time, 
 the Convention had gone from a discussion of the pro- 
 priety of having a committee on Temperance, where 
 one of the ablest speakers had opposed, to an open 
 declaration for the total suppression of the traffic 
 throughout the Nation. That was going some, as the 
 boys would say. 
 
 In 1884, W. B. Crumpton submitted the Report which 
 was ordered printed in the Alabama Baptist. 
 
 This history is worthy of preservation, for no de- 
 nomination in Alabama did so much as the Bapitsts. 
 The Methodists won a close second. The Presbyte- 
 rians fell in finally. The Episcopalians did nothing as 
 a denomination, though some of their preachers and a 
 few of their laymen helped. The Disciples, though a 
 small body, have been with the movement from the 
 start. One of their members, Robert Goodall, to his 
 dying day, was one of the Headquarters Committee 
 of the Anti-Saloon League and exceedingly liberal 
 with his money. 
 
 In 1919, when I am writing this, most people are 
 tired of the subject, but the time will come when the 
 history of the movement must be told, and another 
 generation will be on hand, eager to know about it. 
 As in almost everything I arA writing, the personal 
 element must enter in, because I have been so inti- 
 mately associated with the movement from its start 
 in Alabama. 
 
 My church members in Dallas County and Wilcox, 
 made scuppemong wine and often handed it around 
 with cake to the visitors. I accepted it always : 
 
 "So foolish was I and ignorant ; I was as a beast be- 
 fore Thee." I soon found I was getting in the habit of 
 using it, and, inclined to defend it, B. F. Riley, a 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 191 
 
 young preacher, rebuked me for it. He never knew the 
 influence of his words, but I began to think, and gave 
 it up entirely. 
 
 I was on my farm and found liquor was the ruin of 
 negro labor. A Jew was selHng it in a country store 
 within the five mile limit of old Liberty Church. The 
 old church was long since dead, but the law was still 
 on the Statute books. I took the matter up before 
 the Grand Jury, had the Jew plastered over with in- 
 dictments, and convicted. Soon he burned down his 
 store and moved away. I made the Jew my enemy, 
 but it broke up the business. When pastor in Me- 
 ridian, in 1878, I fell on an old, out of date, Magazine, 
 giving the history and workings of the Main Liquor 
 law, of which I had only heard. It was the first time 
 I had ever read of the effort at suppression. 
 
 I screwed up courage to preach a sermon on the sub- 
 ject in a growing little city, where the Jewish ele- 
 ment was very strong; they and the Catholics were 
 favorable to the traffic, most of the prominent corners 
 were occupied by saloons, and almost the whole coun- 
 try filled with people who drank, or excused drinking 
 — none of them believed in suppression.. If anybody in 
 the audience, the day I preached, believed a word I 
 said in that sermon, I never heard of it — probably my 
 wife was an exception, though she might have been 
 skeptical. 
 
 That was my first public utterance and the first ser- 
 mon ever heard by a Meridian audience, on the sub- 
 ject. The old magazine did its work for me. I be- 
 lieved it, and it burned itself into my soul. Years 
 after, as my business called me through Meridian, and 
 I saw her magnificent growth, paved streets and great 
 buildings and knew that for years she'd had prohibi- 
 tion, and that Jews and all were great believers in it, 
 I couldn't keep from patting myself on the shoulder 
 and saying, "Old fellow, you preached the first ser- 
 
192 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 mon on that subject in this city." Probably the only 
 good it did was to put people to talking and maybe a 
 few pious souls to praying, against the saloons. 
 
 While an evangelist in Alabama under appointment 
 
 of the State Mission Board, I found Prohibition in the 
 corporate limits of Greensboro, in one mile of Hope- 
 well church at Mt. Willing in Lowndes County, one 
 mile of Sandy Ridge in Montgomery County, and the 
 old five mile law about old Liberty in Dallas, of which 
 I have spoken. Those four places were all in Hale, 
 Perry, Dallas, Lowndes, Bullock or Montgomery, free 
 from the legal sale of Hquor. 
 
 Questioning the people about these one mile laws, I 
 was confirmed of the feasibility of the suppression of 
 the Traffic by law. I wrote my Trip Notes for the 
 Alabama Baptist, and almost every speech I made 
 and every letter I wrote I had some word on the sub- 
 ject. Going for nearly a year to the churches in the 
 counties named, thousands of people heard for the 
 first time prohibition talked about. Every day in the 
 week and Sunday too, I talked and reasoned and pray- 
 ed. That was the greatest seed-sowing year of my 
 life. I induced hundreds of men to write on the sub- 
 ject. My Trip Notes went all over the State. The 
 Alabama Baptist and all its force joined and the pro- 
 paganda was thoroughly started in one year. 
 Moving back to Alabama from Mississippi, 
 I preached my sermon at Old Providence, my 
 home church. All said : "it would be a good thing, but 
 
 " The news of that sermon reached 
 
 across the river to Richmond to Doctor Kyser. 
 Just before the Legislature met, one night 
 I heard a call at my gate, and Doctor Kyser became 
 my guest for the night. He bore a strong petition, 
 signed by citizens all over the county, praying the 
 Legislature for a law to prohibit the sale, or giving 
 away, of liquor in the county of Dallas, outside of Sel- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 193 
 
 ma. That town was dominated by rum, having sev- 
 eral wholesale liquor houses. The request came that 
 I should be the bearer of the petition to Montgomery. 
 I had never had any experience with public men — had 
 never looked in on a Legislature assembled. Colonel 
 Sam Will John was in the House from Dallas and at 
 once came to my assistance. From that time he be- 
 came the leader of the Prohibition forces in the Leg- 
 islature. Through all the years, I have known him, 
 he has never flinched once on this subject. Only once 
 have we ever differed, and that in the good year 1919, 
 when he did not favor the National Amendment to the 
 Constitution. 
 
 Thus I became a Lobbyist, and became a frequenter 
 of Montgomery every session of the Legislature. No- 
 body proposed to pay my expenses. I would stay 
 as long as my money and business would allow, then 
 pull out. I found at the start, the liquor forces had a 
 man always on the job — Jake Weise, from Mobile. 
 He was a sharp, good-natured Jew. Whenever I came 
 I'd hunt for Jake, to know about the Temperance Com- 
 mitteee, who they were, what they had done and where 
 they were to meet. I was not the only lobbyist. I met 
 men from different parts of the State with petitions, 
 for zones around school houses, or churches, seldom 
 one asked for more than a mile. I found numbers of 
 preachers, members of the Legislature. Generally 
 they rang true to the cause — one notable exception, 
 Hardshell members, preachers or laymen, were gen- 
 erally on the side of liquor. A notable exception was 
 a brother from Randolph County and one or two more. 
 
 Conditions in the Capitol were horrible. The cloak 
 rooms and some of the offices of the State House, 
 were liberally supplied wnth liquor. The glasses, lem- 
 ons and everything good mixing needed, were there. 
 Besides this. Dexter Avenue, near to the entrance of 
 th Capitol grounds, furnished a favorite resort for 
 
194 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 those who wanted to stroll away and take a little out- 
 ing in the fresh air. I happened to be in the gallery 
 one day when an "Omnibus liquor bill" was up. This 
 was for all the odds and ends, not included in special 
 bills. Amendments were being offered rapidly, — "or 
 this" — "or that" etc. Finally one fellow dropped a 
 bomb into the camp : "or in the State of Alabama!" My, 
 what a scurrying out and in ! Some running to keep 
 their vote from being recorded, some to rally the 
 liquor men from the cloak rooms and the lobby. 
 
 I saw two Baptist members, shooting for the door. 
 They did not return until after the vote was taken, 
 which killed the amendment. They were both addict- 
 ed to drink. They didn't know of my presence in the 
 gallery. The next day, I saw them returning from the 
 doggery near the Capitol. One of them, with his hand 
 over his mouth, to dam up his liquor breath, said, 
 "Well sir, you would have enjoyed a sight, if you 
 had been here yesterday ! We came mighty nigh mak- 
 ing Alabama dry." Then he related the incident of 
 the amendment, to which I was all attention, of course. 
 
 Once when things were getting desperate, and it 
 looked as if prohibition would win, the liquor forces 
 did their worst. They elected a Legislature — at least 
 the House was that way. They elected a Black Belt 
 man Speaker of the House. He was a drinking man, 
 a bold, daring defender of drink. 
 
 It had always been the custom to make up the Tem- 
 perance Committees of men who favored, Temperance. 
 Very often a preacher was made chairman. But the 
 Speaker threw away all precedents and made a drink- 
 ing man of Montgomery chairman and gave him a 
 majority of liquor men, among them a Brewer from 
 Mobile. 
 
 After a few days, I made my appearance, found out 
 from Jake the composition of the Committee. The 
 place of meeting, he announced was, "The room of 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 195 
 
 the Brewer in Hotel." I met with them. 
 
 Every courtesy was extended me. The Chairman in a 
 little while asked me very politely, if I had anything 
 to put before them. I excused myself, saying, "All I 
 have to say will keep for two years, when I think my 
 message will fare better." The word went out to every 
 corner of the State and the next Legislature was of a 
 different type. 
 
 Fourteen years ago, I first heard of the Anti-Saloon 
 League of America. I got in touch with it at once. 
 Arrangements were made to organize in Alabama in 
 the fall. The time appointed so conflicted with my 
 Baptist engagements, as Secretary of the Mission 
 Board, I could not meet with them. It was a small 
 gathering in Birmingham. To my great surprise, I 
 was made President, which position I have held ever 
 since. 
 
 A Big Daily Paper, an enemy of everything like re- 
 form, made this comment, after announcing the organ- 
 ization of the League in Birmingham. 
 
 "This means trouble in Alabama." That prophecy 
 began to come true at once. Every day and hour, it 
 has caused the liquor forces trouble. Especially has 
 that paper groaned with pain and anguish of soul. 
 God can save the greatest sinner than ever lived, but 
 it is impossible for him to save an unrepentant sinner. 
 There's no sign of repentance in the columns of that 
 paper to this day. Everything favoring the liquor 
 cause, or disparaging the prohibition cause, is seized 
 and, in the most exultant manner, sent forth to its 
 readers. Another big Daily in Birmingham, was quite 
 as bad. 
 
 Casting about for a man to lead us, I asked one who 
 knew, about Brooks Lawrence of Ohio. The answer 
 came, "Brooks is the very man for you. He is a Pres- 
 byterian Preacher, a Democrat and has had experi- 
 ence in the work. You'll find him a bit fractious oc- 
 
196 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 casionally, but he is reasonable. Dr. Young, the first 
 "foreigner" to come to our help was the speaker. So 
 the place was offered Brooks, he came and what he did 
 for the liquor forces was a plenty. 
 
 It was an audacious move. With almost no organi- 
 zation — about a half dozen men, some of them preach- 
 ers and some very busy business men, constituting a 
 Headquarters Committee, with no money to start 
 with. They were to go out and face a daring, devil- 
 ish foe ; with plenty of money to buy newspapers, buy 
 votes, buy judges, and solicitors, if need be ; yes, and 
 Legislatures and politicians too. 
 
 The churches, without regard to creed, were appeal- 
 ed to and their doors were thrown open to the Super- 
 intendent and his representatives, so the needed money 
 was raised. Often, at our yearly meetings, a balance 
 of only fifteen or twenty dollars was shown. Business 
 men endorsed our paper at the banks and all bills 
 were promptly paid. I said all the churches opened 
 their doors — probably I should qualify without speci- 
 fying. Some did not. Some preachers held us up; but 
 it is in the past now. We won in spite of opposition 
 of the enemy and the indifference of many who should 
 have been our friends. Some judges and solicitors and 
 editors deserve special mention, but after all, they did 
 only their duty and, if consulted, would make that re- 
 ply with a request not to name them. 
 
 The first meeting before the House Committee, the 
 new Superintendent and the President found some of 
 the shrewdest lawyers in the State — attorneys, em- 
 ployed to oppose us. The President, recited in brief 
 his efforts, how he was, in the past, often forced away 
 at critical periods for the want of money, or time, 
 and said : "But now% we are organized : We are camp- 
 ing on the trail of the liquor traffic and our camp fires 
 will never go out." That slogan has gone down the 
 years and will live forever. With that speech, I prac- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 197 
 
 tically ended my career as a lobbyist and introduced 
 Brooks Lawrence, who is now and has been, the most 
 hated man in Alabama by the friends of the expiring 
 traffic. He is the hero, that deserves the crown. He 
 
 is hated only for what he has done and he did exactly 
 what he was brought to the State to do. "God moves 
 in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform." He did 
 this through men he prepared, beginning with some 
 when they were scraps of children. 
 
 Now, Alabama is swept clean, the Nation is legally 
 dry, and the forces go out to tackle the monster evil 
 in other countries, I feel like Old Simeon : "Now Lord, 
 lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes 
 have seen thy salvation." Imagine the millions who 
 will be saved through prohibition, millions of souls, 
 millions of groans, millions of money, millions of 
 homes. 
 
 CHAPTER 8. 
 
 Perhaps the story needs a little dip into politics. Well, 
 it is a slimy stream. It is hard for a man to go into it 
 without being befouled with its filth. But good men 
 dare not turn it over to bad men; the cause of govern- 
 ment is too sacred for that. Because good men have 
 taken hold, conditions are far better than they used 
 to be. 
 
 B. B. Comer was the first pronounced Prohibition- 
 ist elected Governor in Alabama. Some Governors 
 before him, were true to the cause of Temperance, but 
 the Prohibition forces had not assumed shape until 
 his time. He was first, a Local Optionist, as all of us 
 were, in the beginning. We fought it out with the 
 liquor forces when we made the Beat the unit. When 
 we moved up to the county, they contended for the 
 Beat. It was a great victory to make the county the 
 unit. But that would not do. This county, with its 
 
198 A BOOK OF AIEMORIES. 
 
 liquor, regarded not the option of the next county, 
 that had voted dry. So the fight had to be made for 
 the State as the unit. When that was won, the next 
 step became necessary; to make the Nation the unit. 
 On that we have won ; but the Hquor barons have not 
 spent all their ill-gotten gains yet and the battle goes 
 merrily on. 
 
 We have had set-backs in Alabama, as when a wet 
 Governor was elected with a Legislature to his liking 
 — he and his'n were soaking wets. The attempt to 
 undo all that had been done, cost some of us much 
 concern and some worry, but we trusted in the right- 
 eousness of our cause : "We made our prayer to our 
 God and set a watch against our enemy day and night." 
 Preachers were dubbed, by the enemy : "Political Par- 
 sons," but that didn't disconcert them. Praying, work- 
 ing, writing, preaching and giving money, the work 
 received the favor of heaven and the support of sen- 
 sible men in big business. The politicians learned some 
 lessons which are very hard to stay learned. Booze 
 was a powerful aid in the olden time to the office- 
 seekers. The old line politicians call to mind the good 
 old days, but they are about dead and a new set are 
 rising up wdio know the people will not stand for any 
 foolishness. We still have the liquor crowd, with their 
 liquor methods, but the handwriting is on the Avail 
 and they can all read. The newspapers — a few of them, 
 long for the flesh pots of Egypt; but they are coming 
 right. 
 
 What Set Me Afire; Pretty soon after becoming Sec- 
 retary of the Mission Board and moving to Marion. 
 I inaugurated a campaign which would carry me even- 
 tually all over Alabama. Three days meeting would be 
 held with dinner on the ground. The meetings were 
 called ''Baptist Rallies." The program covered relig- 
 ious questions such as Missions, Christian Education, 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 199 
 
 Religious Literature, Religion in the Home, Christian 
 Citizenship and Temperance. 
 
 At every place in a two weeks trip something that 
 liquor had done in the community was on the tongue 
 of everybody. When I returned to Marion I 
 went over it all with my wife. I said: "Think 
 now what we have done ; we have moved from 
 the plantation to this place, supposed to be 
 one of the best places in the State to raise chil- 
 dren, the seat of a Presbyterian and two Baptist 
 Colleges. Here we find three bar rooms running at full 
 blast until far in every night. When I spoke to some 
 one about it, they told me nothing could be done. Two 
 prominent members of churches own the bank and 
 because of the large deposits the bank gets from the 
 bars and the revenue they pay into the City Treasury, 
 the sentiment of the best people is to let them alone." 
 I resolved then in the presence of God and the mother 
 of my children, to make this Vow of Consecreation : 
 
 ^By the help of God, if it takes my life, liquor in 
 Alabama shall go. I am better situated than any man 
 in the State to do the job. I am traveling all over the 
 State, speaking often every day to churches or Asso- 
 ciations and I am writing for the Alabama Baptist and 
 it goes all over the State. If nobody does anything, 
 how do I know but that my boys, brought up in this 
 community may become victims of drink? If nothing 
 is done, how do I know but that these girls of mine, 
 will some day marry like the poor girl whose scream 
 I heard, when her drunken husband fell out of his chair, 
 dead." 
 
 Oh, it was awful! Good friends turned against me. 
 All regarded me as a crank and a fanatic. But we 
 won, God be praised for it ! 
 
 No, I was not the only one, I only happened to be 
 in a place to do more and write and speak more. The 
 Baptist ministry, in the main were aroused. The Lord 
 
200 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 pity the few who didn't go in and the very few who 
 were on the other side. The Methodists, thank God, 
 almost to a man, their preachers became my fellow 
 workers. 
 
 Now, I am pleading not for any more laws, we have 
 enough of them. I am pleading with Christians not to 
 abuse the law-breakers, but to go after them as fel- 
 low-men — yes, as brothers and seek to persuade them. 
 The merchants and bankers would tell the fellows from 
 the country, about a remedy for boll weevil, or of any 
 thing that would help them along. Why not talk to 
 them about the thing that is more ruinous than the 
 boll weevil? 
 
 Why can't our good women organize to reach their 
 sisters in the districts of the wild-cat stills. Another 
 important matter, see to it that the public school teach- 
 er, does his or her duty as the law requires ; teach the 
 children the ruinous effects of alcohol on the human 
 system. If that is done, a new generation will soon 
 be reared, who will know things, that will forever cut 
 drink out of their programme for life. Above all, let 
 the preachers be astir with the Gospel. 
 
 "Why the Preachers Rage Against Drink!" This is a 
 quotation from Kipling, the great English poet. Hear 
 him ; while he tells why he became a Prohibitionist : 
 
 "The sight of the evening was a horror. The little 
 tragedy played itself out at a neighboring table, where 
 two young women were sitting with young male com- 
 panions. It did not strike me, until far into the even- 
 ing, that the pimply young reprobates, were making 
 the girls drunk. They gave them red wine, then 
 white and the voices rose slightly with the maiden's 
 cheeks flushes. I watched and the youths drank until 
 the speech thickened and their eye balls grew watery. 
 It was sickening to see, because I knew what was go- 
 ing to happen. The four were children of sixteen or 
 seventeen. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 201 
 
 "THERE, RECANTING PREVIOUS OPINIONS, I 
 BECAME A PROHIBITIONIST. I UNDERSTOOD 
 NOW WHY THE PREACHERS RAGED AGAINST 
 DRINK. I HAVE SAID IN THE PAST: THERE IS 
 NO HARM IN IT IF TAKEN IN MODERATION; 
 YET MY OWN DEMAND FOR BEER HELPED DI- 
 RECTLY TO SEND THOSE TWO GIRLS, REEL- 
 ING DOWN THE DARK STREET TO— GOD ONLY 
 KNOWS WHAT END." 
 
 Unconsciously, Kipling got on the ground of the 
 Apostle Paul, nineteen hundred years ago, when speak- 
 ing of meat offered to idols and the temptations to 
 persons of weak consciences when he said: *Tf my 
 eating meat causes my brother to offend I'll eat no 
 more meat while the world stands." 
 
 Let the story close with this: The Women's Chris- 
 tian Tempersmce Union, organized in 1874, formulated 
 plans to get before every Legislature in the Union a 
 bill that required teachers to teach the children, the 
 injurious effects of alcohol on the human system. 
 When these children became of voting age, it was 
 easy to get them to read temperance literature and to 
 vote against the evil. Many thousands of men voted 
 their convictions, brought from the school room, and 
 many thousands of young women let their influence 
 go to strengthening the wills of the young men in the 
 same direction. All honor to the W. C. T. U. : 
 
 Big Business is much praised for their help, but it 
 was not because of their hatred of liquor, or their love 
 for their laborers, or their country, but because of 
 their selfish selves. They saw the difference between 
 a drunken, or even a drinking, laborer, and a sober 
 one. Some of them have been mean enough to want 
 to claim all the praise and rule the preachers and the 
 women out. Anybody knows, they did all the pioneer 
 work which made present conditions possible. 
 
HISTORICAL 
 
 Part Seven 
 
 THE BAPTISTS OF THE TENNES- 
 SEE VALLEY AND MOUNTAINS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Tennessee River Valley, I saw first during the 
 Civil War, while marching from Decatur to Tuscum- 
 bia. Many times since, I have traversed it from 
 Bridgeport to Cherokee. 
 
 It contains some of the loveliest country on the 
 face of the earth, and, in the coves, as rich soil as can 
 be found. It was all fertile once, but the all cotton 
 farming and the thriftless tenants, have worn it out, as 
 nearly as such land can be worn out. It will be as the 
 garden of the Lord, when intelHgent people get hold 
 of it. That will come when the absentee-landlord is 
 no more. 
 
 This section is the oldest settled part of the State. 
 The first railroad ran from Tuscumbia to Decatur, its 
 construction beginning in 1832. The territorial cap- 
 itol was at Huntsville. The first Baptist church in Ala- 
 bama, the Flint River, (1808) was near Huntsville, and 
 Enon, now the First Church, Huntsville, was the sec- 
 ond in the State. The people are so near Tennessee 
 that they are Tennesseeans in their reading and think- 
 ing. Newspapers from Memphis and Chattanooga are 
 far more widely read than are the Alabama papers. 
 
 The Baptists of the Valley will be hard to separate 
 from those of the mountains — for instance, the Ten- 
 nessee River Association, with twenty-nine churches, 
 has more churches in the mountains than in the Val- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 203 
 
 ley. The Baptists are strong in the mountains, in the 
 Valley they are not numerous. Conditions, Baptisti- 
 cally were distressing, when I first visited the Valley 
 about 1900. 
 
 This might have occurred in this section: Asking a 
 preacher why the Baptists had yielded the towns to 
 the other denominations, one reply was: "Baptists 
 have always loved the country since John the Baptist 
 came preaching in the wilderness." Another is re- 
 ported to have said, "There were no good swinging 
 limbs in the towns where the countryman could hitch 
 his horse easily." The following reply is no hearsay: 
 "Brother, we are living in the Laodicean age." Being 
 asked what sort of an age was that, he replied : "An 
 age when urror will prevail and you can't do nothin* 
 agin it." A view which seems to hold among some who 
 are not ignorant. This old brother, piously remarked, 
 after getting off the slander on Laodicea : "The truth 
 is mighty and will prevail." If the friends of truth 
 are silly, uninformed, and cowardly, the truth w^ill be 
 trampled down. It is only a question of faithfulness 
 to the truth. 
 
 Practically, the Baptists in these parts were sound 
 asleep. Where they had energy to do something, the 
 most of them were opposed to anything like progress. 
 However, they received the Secretary cordially, fed him 
 and housed him well. He knew the Baptist doctrines 
 pretty well and he preached them with all his mi^ht, 
 winding up every sermon with an appeal for church 
 activity and the giving of money. 
 
 The response to appeals for money were not large. 
 Returning from one of these trips, a hotel man asked 
 me how was everything where I had been, I said: "The 
 country is holding its own. I tried them on collections 
 and got but little." Whereupon he fixed up a yarn 
 which he told with a straight face : that I couldn't get 
 a soul to pass the hat for a collection, so I took it my- 
 
204 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 self, saying when I returned to the pulpit: "Well, 
 brethren, I see the country is holding its own — I am so 
 much obliged that you let me have my hat back." 
 
 The Baptists I found in the Tennessee Valley, were 
 not unlike others. A few in every church are leaders, 
 if they are led into the light, the matter is settled. 
 This can be done easily in the homes of a few famihes. 
 If these cannot be seen in their homes, the next best 
 place is the church, the leaders are most likely to be 
 there. The Association is a good place to meet them 
 too. I put the Association last, because it is the least 
 effective. The Secretary must go or send some one 
 into the homes and churches. If he depends only on 
 Associational visitors, the process is very slow and 
 very doubtful. All these means were tried out in the 
 Tennessee Valley. 
 
 We purchased school property at Scottsboro, the 
 county seat of "high Jackson." For three years, though 
 we were in trouble all the time for the want of means, 
 we made a good name among the mountain boys and 
 girls, their Pa's and Ma's, and we gained a far better 
 standing with other denominations, who had been re- 
 garding Baptists as opposed to education. 
 
 When the movement began for the State to have 
 High Schools in every county, we found that our prop- 
 erty was desired as it was at the county seat. Gov- 
 ernor Comer refused to consider the petition of the 
 citizens, unless the Baptists would voluntarily offer 
 to sell. This we did, getting back the purchase money 
 and more. 
 
 Bridgeport, where we had no church and only a few 
 members, miffed because their splendid offer had been 
 rejected by the State, increased their offer to the State 
 and offered it to the Baptists. Of course we accepted 
 it. 
 
 Probably it was the best trade Baptists were ever 
 known to make. So that in the windup, Jackson Coun- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 205 
 
 ty had two splendid High Schools where they had only 
 one before — indeed, it has three, for Pisgah, a school 
 established by that one-armed soldier-preacher, J. J. 
 Beason, became the property of the denomination 
 through the Home Mission Board at Atlanta. Now 
 three schools are operated, two by the Atlanta Board, 
 and all are in a flourishing condition. 
 
 At Bridgeport, a church was organized and wor- 
 shiped in the chapel of the school building, but now 
 they have a good church building, a good Sunday 
 School and church, worshiping every Sunday with pas- 
 tor living with them. 
 
 Lest some one, reading this in after years should 
 cite this as an instance where the Baptists accepted 
 aid from a municipality, I want to say : Not a cent 
 was received except from individuals and corporations 
 interested in the well-being of their town. Not a cent 
 from the city treasury. 
 
 I must mention a remarkable conversion which had 
 much to do with the success of the church. A fine, 
 cultivated young woman, a recognized leader of so- 
 ciety, whose mother was a Baptist, played the organ 
 at the services. A protracted meeting w^as appointed 
 by the church and the young folks of the town ar- 
 ranged for a series of entertainments, to offset the 
 church services. Both were well advertised and op- 
 ened on time. The organist would play at night and 
 join her young friends, waiting at the door and go on 
 to the dance. Every pious soul was much exercised 
 and joined heartily with the mother in earnest prayer 
 for her daughter. One night, just as they were 
 through with the last of the opening hymns, she broke 
 down and asked the preacher to pray for her. She 
 was gloriously converted. Consternation struck the 
 crowd of frolickers and they quit. From that moment, 
 without the deviation of a hairs-breadth, that young 
 woman consecrated her life to the service of God and 
 
206 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 her church. She has been the inspiration through 
 all the years. Our school and the church, are sending 
 out influences which blesses people in the three States 
 that touch at the town — Alabama, Georgia and Ten- 
 nessee. 
 
 The first lot offered the Baptists at Decatur, now 
 Albany, was under the hill back of the Tavern. Busy 
 Baptist men, had accepted it and had a load of lumber 
 there when I reached the place. The President of the 
 Land Company, a Baptist preacher, had promised me 
 he would see to it that we had a nice lot and I was 
 trusting him and the brethren. When I saw it and 
 had a talk with the brethren, it was rejected. How 
 Baptists have often been imposed upon, and it is large- 
 ly their own fault. 
 
 The Secretary got W. Y. Quisenberry, pastor at 
 New Decatur, to visit Athens and arrange a meeting. 
 
 That meeting put Athens on the Baptist map as 
 will be seen in the "Concrete Case" referred to else- 
 where. A great lesson we learned was that : "Little 
 can be done pulling on a cold collar." A wise, tact- 
 ful man on the ground, planning and working for a 
 meeting, is on the sure road to success. Through the 
 influence of Athens' church. Limestone County, at this 
 time, is dotted all over with Baptist churches. 
 
 Tuscumbia, the county seat of Colbert County, had 
 been "pastored" by the best preachers in the land, 
 sometimes a farmer, then an editor, or a teacher — 
 Jackson Gunn was one of them, Josephus Shackelford 
 another. The time of which I am writing, the church 
 was in bad plight. John McCollum, who afterwards 
 was a missionary in Japan, served them through one 
 vacation. J. M. Thomas was the Board's appointee for 
 awhile. What a time we did have for a long time ! 
 The old brick building, tied together with iron rods, 
 strangers were afraid to enter. The Secretary made 
 the membership fighting mad by wishing a cyclone 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 207 
 
 might come some night, when nobody was there and 
 blow the old structure down. It did them good and a 
 neat building was erected. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 The Story of Florence, is a long one and maybe, I 
 should not attempt to tell it all, but it is Baptist His- 
 tory and nobody else knows it. In the Chapter of 
 the Period of the Civil War, I told about my first sight 
 of Florence, when I went through the town in 1864 
 double-quicking in my No. 10 Yankee shoes, yelling as 
 the girls waved their handkerchiefs. 
 
 Very different was my next visit ; it was in the 
 Nineties. I met with Dr. Lawton of Atlanta, a mem- 
 ber of Hawthorn's church. He was a member of the 
 Land Company that was to pull off a great real es- 
 tate sale at Florence. I didn't know a soul in the 
 town, but I determined to spend the day there. The 
 town is beautiful for situation, on a high ridge, over- 
 looking the Tennessee River. Before the boom, I 
 judge it was about like the ordinary county seat, but 
 a great stir was there now. 
 
 I was curious to see a boom, and I was now to have 
 my curiosity satisfied. I have described it about thus : 
 A large covered, spring wagon, pulled by two fine 
 horses. In the wagon were table and clerks with all 
 the paraphernalia needful for such occasions. In front 
 of the w^agon, a carriage with the auctioneer and some 
 of the land company, in front of all a brass band, a cou- 
 ple of boys with red flags to stand at each end of the 
 lot were conspicuous, and behind all, were about five 
 hundred of what shall I call them? I have heard some 
 of them call themselves "fools." That is a boom, as I 
 saw it. 
 
 After witnessing the sale of one lot, I went in quest 
 of Baptists. I found two — one, a woman, who shut 
 
208 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 the door in my face, the other, a shoe-maker, who de- 
 clared he knew he was the only missionary Baptist 
 in the place, and he thought there were very few in 
 the State. He was much astonished when I informed 
 him there were one hundred thousand in the State. 
 
 Somehow it had gotten out that I was there to see 
 about the possibility of establishing a Baptist church. 
 
 The Presbyterian pastor looked me up and said: 
 "This is a Methodist town, the Presbyterians come 
 next, but there are no Baptists. Probably among the 
 new-comers there will be some of your people. I am 
 friendly to the idea of having your people established 
 here. If the town booms like they say it will, a Bap- 
 tist church would be worth more than an Iron fur- 
 nace, or other plants they are talking about. You 
 are welcome to use my church any hour of the week 
 except on Sunday at eleven o'clock. I said there 
 were no Baptists — I have some in my church, I urged 
 them to come in with us until their people came, then 
 they could pull out. I can't tell them to go, or even 
 suggest it to them, but I will not object; the fact is, 
 I would be glad, for they make the poorest of Presby- 
 terians." Alas, they never came. I suspect they were 
 a bit ashamed of having pulled down their flag and 
 surrendered. 
 
 On a second visit I called on Judge Wood, a digni- 
 fied old Southern gentleman and a Methodist Stew- 
 ard, also President of the Land Company. On the 
 map, he pointed out the lot they had set apart for the 
 Baptists. When I found it in the old town, on Cedar 
 street, not a desirable place, I protested. I picked out 
 two lots, rather on the border of the new and the old 
 towns. I insisted we would not be satisfied with one 
 less prominent. Since it was the habit of Land Com- 
 panies to give lots to the churches, we would be glad 
 to have these as a gift, but we would buy them if the 
 company would not pres-r^nt them to us. I assured 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 209 
 
 him the Baptists were 100,000 strong in Alabama and 
 would pay their way, rather than take unsuitable prop- 
 erty as a gift. I forget the figures the Company had 
 set upon the two lots — maybe $2,000. I left him after 
 saying: "When you see your Company next week in 
 Nashville, please see what is the least they can take 
 for these lots. We are going to have a large church 
 here some day." I was much amused to watch his 
 face as I proceeded with my speech. He was espec- 
 ially struck with my statement as to the number of 
 Baptists and our willingness to purchase the lots we 
 wanted. I wouldn't say how much bluff there was in 
 all this, but I did not tell an untruth, for we were 
 plenty able to buy. My scheme worked, for the Judge 
 said he would do what he could for us. One of those 
 lots is where the beautiful structure, known as the 
 Baptist church, now stands. 
 
 There are other Chapters in this story. Field, the 
 promoter of the Florence Land Company, chanced to 
 go with Dr. Lawton for a week-end visit to Atlanta. 
 He may not have been a church member, but he ac- 
 companied Dr. Lawton to the First Baptist church to 
 hear J. B. Hawthorne. The church had voted the 
 pastor a year off and he was soon to go abroad. The 
 pastor made grateful mention of it that day. On in- 
 quiry, Field found that the preacher had been pastor 
 m Frankfort and Louisville, Ky., Richmond, Va., and 
 New York. Shrewd business man that he was, he 
 thought he saw a vision. Why couldn't this great 
 preacher, in search of rest, spend his year in the fine 
 climate of Florence and utilize his wide acquaintance 
 with people of wealth and influence in the interest of 
 the boomers of Florence? Dr. Lawton fell in with the 
 idea, the preacher considered it favorably and soon 
 became a citizen of his native State, far to the north of 
 his native county, Wilcox. 
 
210 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Soon after my second visit to Florence, a church 
 was organized and began to worship in the Court 
 House. When Hawthorne came, he preached occas- 
 ionally and, of course, had an overflowing congrega- 
 tion every time. His name and fame sent Baptist 
 stock skyward. Quite a number of very fine people 
 were gathered in and when an effort was made with 
 a subscription for a church building, there was little 
 trouble to get a goodly sum subscribed. I urged its 
 collection, but the too sanguine pastor and people in- 
 sisted that it was all sure of collection when it was 
 needed. 
 
 When the great enterprises were set going, Field 
 called the leaders together and said to them some- 
 thing like this : '*Dr. Hawthorne's name has been 
 worth much to all of our enterprises. Now let us 
 complete our scheme, by building here a great College 
 and let him be at the head of it. No place in our coun- 
 try is equal to this for such an institution. Missis- 
 sippi is only a few miles away, likewise Georgia ; we 
 are almost in Tennessee and we are in the very best 
 part of Alabama — four great States to draw from. 
 With all these advantages, with a fine climate, equal 
 to the best in the world, we have a great opportunity, 
 we ought not to allow to slip away from us." The 
 suggestion was readily accepted and the means were 
 quickly provided for the educational scheme. 
 
 Judge Porter King, the President of the Judson 
 Trustees at Marion, was a Vice-President of the Land 
 Company at Florence. Howard College had just been 
 moved to Birmingham from Marion and the Judge 
 was sore over it. With many others he believed Bir- 
 mingham was not going to come up with her great 
 promises and the College would either be moved back 
 to Marion, or located somewhere else. He advised 
 the Florantines to erect a building, duplicating the 
 new Judson and was ambitious to see it the final home 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 211 
 
 of the Howard. His wish as to the style of the build- 
 ing was carried out. A mile and a half from the city, 
 on a commanding eminence, the building was erected. 
 
 Alas, for all the best laid plans of men! The boom 
 began to subside — one great industry after another 
 went to pieces. After a year Dr. Hawthorn went 
 back to Atlanta and to his old church, none the worse 
 in anywise. 
 
 I must finish the story of the building. I do not 
 know into whose hands it fell, probably the Land 
 Company had to keep it. In a year or two inquiry 
 was made for a booster to take charge of and run a 
 school. The man was found and put on the job. Such 
 a Catalogue as was gotten out was never seen before 
 or since. The Alabama Senators and Congressmen 
 and distinguished men from everywhere were among 
 the Trustees, whether by their consent or not, I do not 
 know. The Catalogue alone won its way and near 
 three hundred girls were enrolled from many of the 
 Southern States. The second year maybe, opened as 
 auspiciously as the first. The President reminded the 
 Land Company of the unfulfilled promise to extend the 
 street car line out to the College. When they talked 
 indifferently about it, he made a trip to Birmingham, 
 saw Dr. Caldwell of the Elyton Land Company, of- 
 fered to bring his College to Birmingham, if suitable 
 inducement could be offered. The Company had built 
 a hotel on the car line at Lakeview and it had be- 
 come a sort of white elephant on their hands. It was 
 offered, furniture and all. The Company agreed to 
 move the whole school, without a cent of expense, to 
 give them ever so many privileges on the street cars 
 — such an offer was never heard of before. The 
 President of the College wrote the parents asking their 
 consent and it was given, almost without a dissenting 
 voice. 
 
212 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 It was said that no sight like it was ever witnessed 
 in Birmingham when 10,000 people met the train 
 bringing in the school. The President was acclaimed 
 the hero, in a most spectacular performance. Pretty- 
 soon after the second term in the new quarters, the 
 building burned and one of the girls lost her life in the 
 flames. The President faded from view and other 
 parties tried for two years to perpetuate the College 
 over at Anniston, but the ''Hawthorn College" as some 
 called it to the end, was no more. 
 
 Returning to Florence: The Baptists have a beau- 
 tiful church and pastor's home, and across the ravine, 
 a second church. Both of these are the fruit of the 
 Mission Board's efforts. 
 
 All the great things Field, the promoter said about 
 Florence as a suitable place for a great College were 
 true and some day, maybe, on the spot where the so- 
 called "Hawthorn College" was burned, a College of 
 far-reaching influence may stand. Florence is prob- 
 ably ten times larger than in the days of which I write 
 and the future has greater things in store for her 
 than was ever dreamed of by the boomers of whom I 
 have written. The government has spent millions 
 there on the water power and will spend millions more. 
 A great city must be the outcome, it seems to me. 
 
 The History I have narrated, all the circumstances 
 dove-tailing so beautifully into one another, furnishes 
 an opportunity for a skilful writer to weave an in- 
 teresting story from real life. This ends the story of 
 Florence ; I hope the reader will feel as I do, it was 
 worth while to write it up. 
 
 Sheffield, like all new towns, had its ebbs and flows. 
 The State Board through its Secretary was quick on 
 the ground, after it started up. I have told what 
 we have there now. The Muscle Shoals development, 
 beginning with the European war, is going to make 
 great cities all around that region. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 213 
 
 Guntersville, far back up the river on the south side, 
 the County Seat of Marshall, one of the most populous 
 counties in the State, teeming with Baptists, without 
 a Baptist church ! It was a reproach to the denomina- 
 tion. The old town, hid away in the mountains, low 
 down on the river, had every appearance of being a 
 dead town. When we launched the church building 
 enterprise, it was a great disappointment when the 
 Baptists of the county failed to respond with their 
 sympathy and help. But, when Mack Kilcrease, a 
 young man, Mayor of the town, and F. M. Barnes, an- 
 other young man, the preacher, joined hands, the men 
 and the occasion met. Other men and women, not a 
 few, there were, but these are the ones standing out 
 prominently in my mind. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 For Inter and Federated Church People to Ponder. A 
 Concrete Case. 
 
 From the Alabama Baptist : 
 
 Brother Crumpton, the long time Corresponding 
 Secretary of the State Mission Board of Alabama, be- 
 ing asked for a concrete argument to meet Federated 
 and Inter-church Union ideas, said: "I will 
 take the Tennessee Valley in Alabama. This is the 
 prettiest country in the world. When the Board en- 
 tered it in the Nineties it could not be called Baptist 
 territory; we had a weak church at Cherokee with 
 monthly preaching by a non-resident pastor. Tuscum- 
 bia had seen better days, but was now weak in numbers 
 and finances. Its old brick building was tied together 
 with iron rods. Strangers who were coming into the 
 territory at the beginning of the boom, were afraid to 
 enter it. Sheffield had no Baptist church, nor had 
 Florence, though one of the oldest and most cultured 
 
214 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 county seats in the State. Athens, another county 
 seat, had only five members, without a pastor, an old 
 brick building, its walls tied together with iron rods. 
 
 Decatur had a small membership, worshiping in a 
 small frame building — the brick structure had been 
 torn down and the brick used to make chimneys for 
 the Federal Army, which wintered there. There was 
 no church in New Decatur, now Albany — ^probably a 
 small organization at East Decatur. At Huntsville 
 we had a good church, with brick building. Gunters- 
 ville, a very old town and a county seat, had no Bap- 
 tist church. Scottsboro, a county seat, had a very 
 good church for that day, with services twice a month 
 by a non-resident preacher. Bridgeport had no church 
 of our faith. There was not a strong Baptist church 
 in all the territory named. 
 
 What Have the Baptists Now? 
 
 Cherokee has a pastor on the ground, preaching half 
 time. 
 
 Tuscumbia has an elegant church building, a beauti- 
 ful pastor's home with a membership of 300, gave last 
 year for benevolence $414. 
 
 Sheffield has a durable church building, on a promi- 
 nent corner, a pastor on the ground for every Sunday 
 service, a membership of 188, contributed for benevo- 
 lences last year $581, and pledged to the 75 Million 
 Campaign $12,500. 
 
 Florence, on a centrally located lot, has a brick build- 
 ing, a pastor for all time, living in a beautiful par- 
 sonage, a membership of 248, gave last year for benev- 
 olences $996, and pledged to the 75 Million Compaign 
 $23,019. 
 
 Central Church Florence has preaching every Sun- 
 day, their pastor living with them, gave last year to 
 benevolences $555 and pledged to the 75 Million Cam- 
 paign $15,582. They have a membership of 227. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 215 
 
 Athens has a pastor for full time, living in a beau- 
 tiful home hard by an elegant brick church building, a 
 membership of 269, gave last year to benevolences $613 
 and pledged to the 75 Million Campaign $15,220. 
 
 Decatur 1st Church worships in a well appointed 
 brick structure, a pastor for full time, in a home be- 
 longing to the church, a membership of 186, gave last 
 year for benevolences $919, and pledged to the 75 Mil- 
 lion Campaign $26,000. 
 
 Albany has a beautiful church, a membership of 489, 
 contributed to benevolences last year $2,006, and 
 pledged to the 75 Million Campaign $45,640. 
 
 East Town has a pastor for all time, living in a home 
 by the church, with a membership of 229, gave last 
 year for benevolences $365. 
 
 South Decatur has a membership of 279, and only 
 a little way out is Austinville with a membership of 
 205. 
 
 Huntsville First Church has a pastor for all time, 
 living in a home provided by the church, membership 
 of 267, gave last year for benevolences $1,677 and 
 pledged to the 75 Million Campaign, $22,499. 
 
 Merrimac, West End and Fifth Avenue churches are 
 all growing and prosperous with a membership of 452, 
 contributing to church benevolences last year $514 and 
 pledging to the 75 Million Campaign $5,480. 
 
 Guntersville has a church in an up-to-date building, 
 pastor full time, with a membership of 245. They gave 
 last year for benevolences $176 and pledged to the 75 
 Million Campaign $7,000. 
 
 Scottsboro has a pastor for full time in a church 
 home, with a membership of 131, gave last year for 
 benevolences $533 and pledged to the Campaign $9,368. 
 
 Bridgeport has a church sufficiently strong to sup- 
 port a pastor for all time, with a membership of 177, 
 gave last year for benevolences $527 and pledged to 
 75 Million Campaign $5,870. 
 
216 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 If the idea of the Federated and Interchurch Church 
 Union had obtained in the Nineties, possibly the Bap- 
 tists might have had one church at Huntsville. At 
 best they could have had only three in the towns I have 
 named. I make no mention of Town Creek, Hillsboro, 
 Madison, Paint Rock, Fackler and some others, where 
 the Board helped but little, if any. 
 
 It is very generous of our Interchurch brethren 
 to show us how the work could have been done better; 
 but we are fairly well satisfied with the showing we 
 have made. They make a great point on showing us 
 how to save money. We have been preaching the Gos- 
 pel of giving money and judiciously spending it. Peo- 
 ple generally have no need of lessons from us to save 
 money, they will take care of that. 
 
 The great task is to get them to give themselves and 
 their money. This they are slowly learning to do in 
 the Tennessee Valley and the Master has been honor- 
 ed and no other denomination hurt. 
 
 Since the above was written, the movement which 
 promised so much has gone to pieces and is bankrupt, 
 as the extract below from a Northern Baptist paper 
 which favored the movement, shows : 
 
 "The Interchurch Movement is still struggling with 
 its vast indebtedness. It is a precious good thing that 
 the Baptists withdrew from the Movement at the Buf- 
 falo meeting, for otherwise the Movement would 
 probably have continued and piled up more millions 
 of indebtedness. Financially this was the most irre- 
 sponsible religious movement that the world has ever 
 known. — Watchman Examiner. 
 
 This ends my story of the Baptists of the Tennessee 
 Valley. It is a great joy to me to review the work and 
 think of what was accomplished. Some sweet day we 
 will know a thousand things accomplished, which we 
 never dreamed of. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 217 
 
 It will not take long to travel from the Valley and 
 mingle with the Mountain Baptists. These are in 
 North Alabama, extending down to Birmingham. It 
 is said, a politician passing through the mountains of 
 North Georgia asked the mountain man who was driv- 
 ing: "What is the geological formation of this coun- 
 try?" He got for his answer: "Mostly Baptists." I 
 am quite sure that it is a fact, most of the mountain 
 people of Alabama, are Baptists. 
 
 Going to one of their Associations: I encountered 
 a brother who a dozen years before, had visited them 
 in the interest of the Home Mission Board. He pre- 
 dicted that all sorts of insults awaited me. He said: "I 
 visited them once in the interest of the Mission Board. 
 I made the best speech I could. When I finished, an 
 old brother spoke : 'The brother's speech reminds me 
 of a rich man who owned a lot of niggers. He had a 
 barrel of tar in the corner of the yard and tuck a no- 
 tion he'd move the tar into another barrel in another 
 corner. He fell on this plan : He strung out his nig- 
 gers, every fellow with a gourd, from one barrel to 
 'tother. The plan was for the one next to the barrel 
 to dip his grourd in the barrel, then to pour it in the 
 next fellow's gourd. Finally all the tar was out of 
 one barrel, but not a drap was in the new barrel — the 
 tar had all stuck to the gourds.' When he finished 
 he sat down with a smile of satisfaction on his face 
 and the whole house was in a giggle." "How did you 
 answer him?" I asked. He replied: "I didn't say a 
 word. I got my hat and saddlebags and left. It was 
 an open insult." My reply was : "I should like for 
 some fellow to try that on me." The result of my visit 
 was most encouraging. They kept me talking most 
 every minute of the two days I was there, gave me 
 the best collection ever taken and, for years, sent me 
 their collections every time the Association met. 
 
218 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Only one time was I ever mistreated at an Associa- 
 tion. Some fellows of, the so-called Gospel Mission 
 type, had drawn off a few churches into an Associa- 
 tion of their own. They had captured a small Second 
 Church in a considerable town and the Association 
 was to meet there. I dropped in, was allowed to 
 speak and sat me down on the front seat to be quizzed. 
 They did it in a masterful fashion. One of their bold- 
 est, stood before me, with his long index finger shak- 
 ing in my face, saying over and over again : "You'll 
 never get a cent from this Association." From the 
 time I got into the house until I left, I felt I was in an 
 ice box. If there was sympathy in any heart, it did 
 not show itself on a single face. That was the most 
 complete water haul that I ever met. I made a 
 prediction for them, that this opposition would soon 
 die, and it came true in a few years. The Association 
 is about broken up, the preachers were, for the most 
 part, ignored by the churches and the man with the 
 long index finger, asked for and received an appoint- 
 ment under the Board. 
 
 Anti-Missionism is not confined to the mountains. 
 We have it everywhere. Sometimes in the large cities, 
 among the most intelligent and well to do. It comes 
 from covetousness and ignorance. Many a man, is 
 intelligent about worldly matters and as ignorant as a 
 heathen about Missions. Some men have it drilled in- 
 to them that the leaders in the missionary enterprise 
 are not honest men and are doing what they do for 
 personal gain. One who is a close-fisted trader, is apt 
 to suspect every man who is in a position of leader- 
 ship, especially where he handles money. 
 
 One of the sledge-hammers I have used on all such, 
 is to tell of this occurrence. It was my habit to spend 
 a half hour, sometimes more, at a depot, waiting for 
 trains. I lost no time, for I had books to read, or 
 notes to write for the paper, besides there was satis- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 219 
 
 faction in knowing I was where I belonged — that stea- 
 died my nerves. 
 
 At a railroad station, above Birmingham, a Jew, who 
 was the agent, sauntered out and sought a conversa- 
 tion. He said inquiringly: "You're traveling; vat is 
 your peesness?" I replied: "I'm a drummer." "Vat 
 is your line?" he persisted. "The Gospel," said I. 
 "And vat is tat?" he asked again. "Religion," I said. 
 "Oh," said he, "Tus you do it tat vay?" It was in 
 the boom days, so I went into give him a pretty clear 
 idea. I told him I went to the churches, got the money 
 to enable me to go to new towns, collect up the Bap- 
 tists, organize them into churches, help them to build, 
 then urge them to help me do the same for other towns, 
 etc. He listened intently, and then, his ivory 
 teeth lighted up his big face, while he remarked: "Vel, 
 you's got de best blace, you gits de money." Stand- 
 ing before an Association, where the most of them are 
 anti-missionaries, they will be tickled nearly to death 
 over the saying of the Jew. When they have thor- 
 oughly enjoyed it, the Secretary raises the question : 
 "What made that Jew think of that? Would you 
 have thought of it? Only one answer can be given to 
 that question ; He was a thief. He thought : "If I 
 had your chance I'd feather my nest good." Now you 
 write it down and don't forget it. When you hear a 
 man say that Secretaries and Board men who are 
 handling the people's money are making way with it, 
 he publishes himself a thief at heart. You'd better 
 not have any business relations with him." It was 
 amusing after the Secretary had delivered himself in 
 that way, to look into the faces of those who most 
 keenly enjoyed and laughed the loudest and longest, 
 over the Jew's reply. 
 
 They did not know whether to laugh or get mad. 
 They couldn't get mad, so they allowed a pale, sickly 
 smile to steal over their faces. 
 
220 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 CHAPTER 4. 
 
 At one of these Associations I had with me Chas. W. 
 Hare, partner of Jim Pope, in the conduct of the Ala- 
 bama Baptist. Under their splendid management this 
 paper was at its best, Charlie doing the canvassing. 
 The Association, of which I now speak, had made their 
 boast, they had left the membership of a large Asso- 
 ciation *'to get rid of the black coated fellows," as 
 they called all the progressives, or their agents. They 
 were surprised when we found them. They 
 had standing committees on Sunday Schools and Tem- 
 perance, though there were wild cat stills in sight of 
 every church and there wasn't a live Sunday School 
 in their bounds. 
 
 They received the visiting brothers, after a fashion, 
 but were a long way from being hilarious. After 
 Charlie had spoken on the paper, and both of us had 
 spoken on Sunday Schools and Temperance, I asked 
 if they would not appoint a Committee on Missions. 
 Since they claimed to be Missionary Baptists and I, a 
 Missionary Secretary, had visited them for the first 
 time, I hoped to be of some benefit to them while I 
 was there. Of course I spoke about their beautiful 
 mountains, the lovely, well-tilled farms I had seen 
 and the bright prospects ahead of them. I wasn't en- 
 couraged by kindling enthusiasm, which I hoped to see 
 on their faces. After rather an embarrassing wait, a 
 motion was made that the Committee on Missions be 
 appointed ; after another wait, the motion was sec- 
 onded, one or two voted for it, none opposed it, so the 
 Committee was appointed. 
 
 The next morning a brother said to me: "I weoit to 
 tell you something. These mountains are full of stills. 
 The distillers are on the lookout for every stranger that 
 comes to the mountain. You came in a buggy with a 
 man they knew, or you would have been stopped miles 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 221 
 
 from here, to know your business. Four-fifths of the 
 great crowd, that will be here tomorrow, will be in 
 sympathy with the stills. You have talked pretty bold 
 against liquor, I don't think they'll bother you, but 
 there has been lots of talk. That mission report is 
 going to be knocked out by limiting speeches to five 
 minutes." 
 
 Sure enough when it was read, a motion was made 
 to limit the speeches ; on that Charlie led off in a half 
 hours' talk against the motion. I modestly suggested, 
 visitors ought to be made an exception, if they would 
 be reasonable in the time they would talk. But it was 
 no go, the thing was fixed. I thought, if I behaved nice- 
 ly, they'd put me up to preach Sunday at 11 o'clock. 
 I held my watch in my hand and quit on time, but 
 Charlie talked for half an hour. The Moderator 
 seemed to think the speakers were to keep their own 
 time. Late Saturday, I was read out to preach that 
 night, and the brother who preached the Introductor}' 
 was to preach the next day. Seeing I had no chance 
 for the next day, I asked that I might preach to the 
 children next morning at 10 o'clock. The request be- 
 ing granted, I begged that all the children for five miles 
 around might be brought. 
 
 It was a great success, the house was packed with 
 children — the grown people Hning the walls around. 
 For an hour, over the heads of the precious children, 
 I preached to every one who loved Jesus to heed His 
 last great commission. I doubt if I ever did tell the 
 Story of Jesus more earnestly or effectively than on 
 that occasion. I am sure many were deeply impressed. 
 When I was about to leave that afternoon, I shook 
 hands with old Brother Kirby, the Moderator, who 
 said : **Come to see us again, we are to meet next year 
 down in the valley and I think we will treat you bet- 
 ter." 
 
222 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 I have told all this to tell about the spirit of the 
 next meeting. I was sick and could not go, but Char- 
 lie was there. He wrote, or told me of it, about this 
 way: "They met in the valley and had great crowds. 
 They talked me nearly to death. When I protested 
 that I had quit preaching because of the condition of 
 my throat, they said: "We want you to represent 
 yourself and Brother Crumpton too, we treated him 
 so bad last year, we want to make amends for it." 
 
 There, was as hopeless a set as could be found, yet 
 by tact and kindness, they could have been led into 
 the light. The Association broke up in a few years. 
 By the diHgence of our enlistment workers, I doubt 
 not the spirit of that section is rapidly changing. The 
 School Teacher and the Missionary Preacher will 
 wheel the Mountain Baptists into line for the con- 
 quest of the world. 
 
 I was impressed with the number of men on the 
 ground Sunday, in new Yankee uniforms. I asked 
 a brother what it meant. His reply was: 
 "These mountains were filled, during the Civil War, 
 with deserters from the Confederate army. Many of 
 them went over to the Yankees and served in the ar- 
 my. Fort Payne is being boomed by New Hampshire 
 people. They found out about these fellows and sent 
 droves of them to Boston to the reunion of the G. O. 
 P., and they have just gotten back in these uniforms. 
 Another thing you may take notice — the women are 
 crazy about them. It is no trouble for one of them to 
 marry, no matter how old he is. All of them are get- 
 ting pensions ; and if one of these old fellows marries 
 a girl and dies in a little while, she is fixed for an in- 
 come for life." My, what a revelation was that ! And 
 what a mixture of vicious elements : Deserters, illi- 
 cit distillers, pension-grabbers and anti-missionaries! 
 Surely that was missionary ground. So the Pension 
 Scandal continues, a half century after the war. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 223 
 
 Those who read my story of: "How a Boy Got 
 Through the Lines to the Confederacy," will recall 
 how the boy came near getting into trouble in Camp 
 Douglas, Chicago, making too free with an Alabama 
 Regiment, who were under suspicion. I do not know 
 if they ever went over to the Yanks ; I fear they did 
 — anyway, there were thousands in the mountains of 
 our beloved State, who did go over. I have run upon 
 several nests of them in my travels. 
 
 It was on this trip a Methodist preacher, who had 
 dismissed his congregation to hear my children's ser- 
 mon made this speech to me: "I am glad you came 
 up here and especially glad you preached that sermon 
 to the children, nothing like that was ever heard in 
 these parts. I am up here looking after a few small 
 congregations, but I am making no impression on any 
 but my own people. They are all very kind to me and 
 treat me with utmost respect, but they are Baptists 
 and the Lord is going to hold you Baptists responsible 
 for the Mountain People." That brother spoke a par- 
 able ! That, with what I had observed and heard, made 
 me feel more than ever the responsibility. The words 
 of Jesus are so simple and meaningful, the ordinances 
 are so plain in their meaning, the common people hear 
 the Baptists gladly, as they did when He walked 
 among them in times of old. The one Book, they 
 read, and it is about all their reading; they accept its 
 teaching as far as they are informed, heartily. Their 
 leaders, many times, are men of strong prejudices, 
 bold and uncompromising and their people are loyal 
 followers- The man who, with a bitter spirit, antag- 
 onizes them, or who becomes offended, will never ac- 
 complish anything among them. 
 
224 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 CHAPTER 5. 
 Some Preachers and Laymen I Have Known. 
 
 Jackson Gunn and Josephus Shackelford are two 
 
 men, inseparable in my mind. 
 
 The Muscle Shoals Association, one of the historic 
 bodies of the State, dates back to 1820. At first it 
 covered a number of Alabama counties, Lamar, Lau- 
 derdale, Colbert, Marshall, besides Franklin, Lawrence 
 and Morgan. 
 
 Jackson Gunn came from Tennessee to Tuscumbia 
 for half time service to that church. He once attended 
 Georgetown College, Kentucky. My acquaintance with 
 him was almost entirely Associational and Conven- 
 tional. He was a magnificent specimen of a man, 
 and to my mind a born orator, though he never dream- 
 ed anybody would write that of him. I heard him on 
 several occasions and always associated him in my 
 mind with B. H. Carroll of Texas. If he'd had Car- 
 roll's training and experience, the world would have 
 heard of him. He was modest, extremely so I thought, 
 but he w^as a power in his day. He accumulated con- 
 siderable wealth and loved his home and farm. He 
 was fond of evangelism and made extended trips. In 
 the beginning of our State Mission Board's work he 
 was, for a short while, one of the Board's evangelists. 
 He was Moderator of his Association for twenty-seven 
 years. He served his County one year in the Legis- 
 lature — he didn't like it, for he felt it was a "Coming 
 down of the ministry and feared younger preachers 
 would be influenced to follow his example." Whether 
 they all heard of this great man's service to the State 
 or not, many young preacherss especially in North 
 Alabama, have felt the pull of politics. Some have 
 been of very great service to the State in this way; 
 but alas ! it was the ruin of others. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 225 
 
 Josephus Shackelford, was another giant of a 
 preacher. He was of strong build, a graduate of Mer- 
 cer University. He began life on the farm, tried sol- 
 diering a little while, when a boy just as the war with 
 Mexico was closing. After graduating a preacher, he 
 was teacher, editor of a religious paper, the Christian 
 Herald, at Moulton and later of a secular paper, the 
 North Alabamian at Tuscumbia. He was a Legisla- 
 tor, one year — he was indeed, a many-sided man. If he 
 could have given his whole time to the ministry, unfet- 
 tered by business, what a power he might have been ! 
 As it was, he made good in every place he served. He 
 and Gunn were companions, the great leaders of the 
 Baptist hosts in that section. There were others, of 
 course, R. T. Wear among them, to make that great 
 body, in that rich section of Alabama, great for God 
 and the Baptists. Fine schools at Moulton, LaGrange 
 and Athens, had diffused a fine literary leaven which 
 is working still in all that part of the State. But 
 somehow, these leaders did not grip the world-wide 
 missionary spirit and lead their people to doing great 
 things. Like so many other sections of the State they 
 preached missions and answered objections, but didn't 
 lead the people to give for missions. A mission ser- 
 mon without a mission collection following, does but 
 little good. For years this Secretary went into that 
 section and didn't collect enough to pay expenses. Anti- 
 Missions did its paralyzing work in this region, in 
 spite of the strong mission preachers. 
 
 After all, the main trouble was, the denomination in 
 Alabama was a sleeping giant, with no organized forces 
 undertaking great things for God. Things began to 
 look up as soon as the forces of the State were or- 
 ganized. 
 
 J. J. Beeson of Jackson: I met him only a time 
 or two, but I learned much of the heroic work he 
 did in his mountain home at Pisgah, twelve miles 
 
226 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 across the river from Scottsboro. He was a one- 
 armed Confederate soldier and preacher. He 
 established an Academy and built up a fine school 
 equal to those of R. H. Pratt in Bibb, or W. Y. Ad- 
 ams at Walnut Grove. The founder died in the 
 midst of his greatest usefulness, but the school has 
 been carried on and is now one of the Home Mission 
 Board's Mountain schools. 
 
 R. L. Quinn; fell a victim of the Flu in 1918, right 
 in the prime of life. He was reared on a farm in Law- 
 rence County. His ministerial life was given almost 
 entirely to the churches of the Muscle Shoals Asso- 
 ciation. Coming on after the old leaders were pass- 
 ing out of the active leadership of the Association, he 
 naturally became the leader in the richest territory 
 and largest Association in the State. His training en- 
 abled him to teach, as well as preach. He was a well- 
 informed, fluent talker and was regarded as among the 
 best of the younger preachers. He developed also a 
 talent for business and took high rank among busi- 
 ness men. Moving to Hartselle, one of the best towns 
 in that part of the State, he became the pastor of the 
 church and by indomitable will, backed by a strong 
 membership, he led in the construction of one of the 
 most elegant houses of worship to be found in that 
 section. While his great Association was not noted 
 for its enthusiastic support of the work of the Con- 
 vention, it was friendly and had Quinn lived, it is 
 probable he would have brought it to be a leading 
 force in the State. 
 
 My first visit to this region was at Danville. My 
 home was with Brother Orr, a large land owner and a 
 patron of the Judson. In the course of conversation, 
 speaking of this beautiful rich country, he chanced to 
 remark, he was "land-poor." "Suppose," said I, "Our 
 Colleges should undertake to raise a Landed endow- 
 ment from men in your condition, would you be wil- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 227 
 
 ling to help," He answered at once, in the affirmative. 
 I was then living in Marion, the seat of our two schools. 
 At a meeting of the local Trustees, I named the mat- 
 ter and suggested, if I were authorized, I could with- 
 out any expense to the schools, get thousands of acres 
 given. It was as clear to me as daylight, but our Trus- 
 tees, a jocose set of old men, passed it by with a laugh 
 about a small tract on a sandy ridge which had been 
 given them, which they had tried in vain to sell. The 
 land about Danville, far away from the railroad, can 
 hardly be bought for any price now. Easily w^e might 
 have secured land that would have been worth today a 
 half million dollars. 
 
 R. E. Pettus. One can't write of the Tennessee Val- 
 ley Baptists without mentioning this old hero. He 
 has been the most faithful layman in that part of the 
 State to look after every interest of the denomination. 
 He lives within a few miles of where he was born. Not 
 many things of importance to Madison County hap- 
 pen, that he has not had a part in. The North Liberty 
 Association and Huntsville have been especially on his 
 heart. Criticised and opposed, he has been as true as 
 the needle to the pole. In the most beautiful city of 
 the valley, among anti-missionaries in the city and in 
 the county, he has been sometimes almost alone in 
 his contentions. Graduated from the State Univer- 
 sity, he has always been loyal to his Alma Mater and 
 at the same time a true friend to our Baptist schools. 
 Pettus' commanding figure in an assembly will always 
 be noted. His speeches are never long, but they ring 
 true. His home has been wide open for all the breth- 
 ren traveling in the interests of the denomination — 
 so much so, that I always headed for the "Pettus 
 House" on landing in the city. The three or four fac- 
 tory churches, about the city, owe much to his fath- 
 erly care, during their days of trial. Brother Pettus 
 has been a member of the Board for years and though, 
 
228 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 at the extreme end of the State, he has been present 
 at almost very meeting. 
 
 Wm. A. Davis, is another layman who must be men- 
 tioned if anything is written about the Baptists of the 
 State. His father, B. B. Davis, was a business-like, 
 pains-taking, Secretary of the State Convention, and 
 his son fell beautifully into his place, when he was 
 called home. His seventeen years as Secretary, fol- 
 lowing his father's nine years, makes him an impor- 
 tant character in the history of the Baptists. He never 
 makes a speech. If appointed on a committee, he makes 
 his report briefly, explains everything clearly and that 
 is all he does in a public way at the Conventions. His 
 eye is on everything and he glides from one point to 
 another, making suggestions, on the quiet, and in al- 
 most every instance his suggestions are adopted. 
 While he is always loaded down with business, he 
 finds time to be at the Convention. In his church and 
 in his town, his place could not be filled if he were 
 called away He is a tither, that means, he gives 
 freely of his means to the cause, but he is very careful 
 about spending the Lord's money. He has been, for 
 years, entrusted with the Endowment Funds of How- 
 ard and not a soul has ever had a doubt but it would 
 be handled right. The Lord knows how to run His 
 own business, but it seems to me this world needs 
 more men of the stamp of W. A. Davis ; if left to me, I 
 guess I'd make about half of them after his pattern. 
 
 Since writing these notes, W. A. Davis, for the first 
 time, has been put at the head of a great enterprise by 
 the Convention. He is Chairman of the Orphanage 
 Commission; probably as deHcate a matter as was ever 
 handled by a Commission. Every one feels the mat- 
 ter is safe in his hands. May the tribe of this man 
 never grow less. 
 
 Anniston, would not class herself with the Mountain 
 Baptists, but according to the geography I have in 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 229 
 
 mind, she is of the Mountains. I would say : A Gem of 
 the Mountains. Brother E. T. Smythe was on the 
 ground as soon as Anniston started. He was a farmer- 
 preacher, who Hved near the town, moved in, pur- 
 chased property, organized the First Church and be- 
 gan preaching, in a grove, under appointment of the 
 State Board ; it was a great work he did too. I doubt 
 if he w^as an enthusiastic missionary, but he was an 
 untiring worker, a wise and discreet leader. 
 
 It was a great event in the history of Baptists, as 
 well as for Anniston, when Duncan Parker, not him- 
 self a Baptist, in memory of his Baptist wife, erected 
 the splendid structure which is known as The Parker 
 Memorial. 
 
 With the City, the Church has grown, until it is 
 among the most aggressive and liberal in the State. 
 Oxford, only a little way down the valley, is a strong, 
 conservative old body. Hereabouts at Oxanna, Glen 
 Addie and other points in the Association, the Board 
 has helped with its money to great advantage. For- 
 tunately for Anniston and the State, George A. Nunal- 
 ly became the first pastor of Parker Memorial. He was 
 a versatile man, fitting beautifully into the team of 
 strong pullers and constructive workers at an impor- 
 tant period in our Baptist history. 
 
 A little lower down is Talladega, a thriving little 
 city in a most fertile valley. There, Renfroe did the 
 work of his life. George Lofton for a time served them 
 well. Later the polished gentleman and scholarly 
 preacher, J. A. French was their pastor, afterwards 
 most acceptably he served Eufaula. At Jacksonville, 
 the old county seat of Calhoun, lived 
 
 Captain Jas. A. Crook. He was a strong force in 
 his Association and prominent in State politics. M. L. 
 Lane, a strong preacher, was his pastor for a time. 
 
 Brother J. C. Wright, one of the salt of the earth, 
 lived at Oxford when I first visited that place. He was 
 
230 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 brought to Alabama early in life, graduated at How- 
 ard and for a time served Newbern, then a strong 
 church I judge. Later he served one of the Mobile 
 churches and for some years he served Oxford. He 
 W3.S a scholarly, courtly gentleman, modest as a wo- 
 man, he never passed for half he was worth. 
 
 J. A. Scott, was the jolliest old bachelor preacher I 
 ever knew. He was one of the two or three preach- 
 ers I have known, who worried along through life 
 without the companioship of a good woman, thus miss- 
 ing the joys of wedded life and robbing some fine wo- 
 man of the privilege of having a good husband. He 
 was born in South Carolina, was once a Methodist 
 Classleader. He was one of the many old Confeder- 
 ates who became a preacher, being ordained in 1862. 
 The only country church in the State having preach- 
 ing every Sunday, was Harmony in Choccolocco Val- 
 ley and Brother Scott was its pastor for thirty-eight 
 years. It was a great joy to be with this good-natured 
 servant of the Master. Like many another in those 
 days, when little was expected of the churches, Broth- 
 er Scott was a good missionary, but he seldom took 
 collections for it. Timidity, I am sure was the rea- 
 son. Maybe, he asked for something to send to the 
 Association once a year, but there was no effort to get 
 anything oftener. 
 
 CHAPTER 6. 
 
 Gadsden is another Mountain Gem, which has, in 
 the memory of the writer, grown into a thriving busi- 
 ness center, destined to continue to expand as the 
 years go by. At Alabama City, Attalla, and other 
 points up and down the Q. & C, and up the mountain 
 road, the Mission Board has been a mighty factor in 
 developing Baptist interests. 
 
^ A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 231 
 
 W. Y. Adams: If I say he is not handsome he will 
 not dispute it. He is a jewel, that will go in the crown 
 of the King. He came from Blount County to Marion 
 to Howard College. He made a speech to Colonel 
 Murfee something like this : "I come to you to pre- 
 pare me to teach the mountain boys and girls in my 
 County. I want to take the studies I most need and 
 to equip myself in the shortest possible time." Noth- 
 ing could have pleased Colonel Murfee better. He 
 talked of Adams and his success, as long as he lived. 
 I do not know the time he took in school — I know he 
 did not graduate. But what a blessing his Walnut 
 Grove College has been to the Mountain Counties ! 
 Many of the leading men of that section are among his 
 graduates. Brother Adams is a preacher, but always 
 had to have a supplement by teaching. He repre- 
 sented Blount County in the last Legislature and a 
 good member he made. Schools like Walnut Grove, 
 Six Mile, Pisgah and Newton, have been ruled out, 
 but according to my thinking, the best educational 
 work that can be done, is there. Besides the 
 work of Brother Adams' teaching, his life has been a 
 benediction to Blount and Etowah Counties. As Mo- 
 derator of his Association he has exerted a wide in- 
 fluence for good. 
 
 Further to the west, up and down the main line of 
 the L. & N., and further on west, to Jasper, on the 
 railroads radiating from that much alive town, the 
 missionaries of the Board have been in evidence. 
 
 Brother L. B. Harbin: The first time I visited the 
 North River Association, it was at Jasper. It was 
 a large body and might be classed with the Mountain 
 Baptists. One of its Pioneer Preachers, was Brother 
 Harbin ; a great old man was he. Without education, 
 but good sense and devotion to the cause had charac- 
 terized his life. He was a thorough missionary and, 
 on that account, had many things to tell of the oppo- 
 
232 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 sition. On this occasion, he was making his report 
 to the Association, of work he had done under the ap- 
 pointment of the Executive Committee. He was sent 
 to *'the destitution" and had incidentally visited some 
 of the churches. His salary was about 75 cents or $1.00 
 per day. In his report he said: "Brotherin, I find objec- 
 tion everywhur I go. One question asked by all is: 
 *Whur does the money go'?" As he said it, he raised 
 his hand with the index finger pointing downward and 
 you could imagine they heard it drop to the bottom 
 of the ocean. The dear old soul, was working for 
 only a pittance a day and the Executive Committee 
 still owed a part of that — every cent raised would 
 go to him, but there were men, mean enough to ex- 
 press a doubt about the expenditure of the money. 
 
 In almost all the opposition Associations, I took that 
 as the introduction to my speech : "Whur does the 
 money go?" If it brought on discussion, as some- 
 times it did, I was glad. Things were generally set- 
 tled with the thinking people, when I was through. 
 
 W. C. Woods, of Lamar County will be surprised to 
 know I mention him in my Memories, but he richly 
 deserves much more than I will be able to say about 
 him. Like many another, he never did pass for a for- 
 tieth of his worth. He loves the Lord, and was given 
 a mind and heart to know and love his people. Often, 
 he was in the minority, out-talked, out-voted, but he 
 never lost his head, or uttered a bitter word. "Watch- 
 ful waiting" with the opposition, was his method, be- 
 fore Woodrow Wilson's policy with the Mexicans was 
 ever thought of. At his own cost, he distributed 
 books and Bibles, scattered tracts and hauled and 
 housed Secretaries and other ministers, through his 
 territory. He had the pleasure to see the opposing 
 forces fall to pieces of their own weight, and the forces 
 of righteousness win a right to live and work for the 
 wide world's redemption. In all the territory, where 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 233 
 
 once an association, excluded from its membership all 
 the churches that affiliated with the Southern Baptist 
 Convention, W. C. Woods is the happiest man. He won 
 the day, not by denunciation, but by faithful work and 
 righteous living. One beautiful thing about it is, 
 they of the opposition, respect him. 
 
 It is not my purpose to write up the younger living 
 brethren, but when they wedge in with the incidents 
 related about the older brethren, I must write some- 
 thing of them. 
 
 It was the policy of the Board to use our young 
 preachers as Missionaries; generally, we employed 
 a student for the summer to act as missionary col- 
 porter. 
 
 Before there was a railway in the Northwest Sec- 
 tion, a young Brother Nash was sent over the moun- 
 tains, and worked all summer. Young Brother Har- 
 ris was the next man ; he is now one of our great mis- 
 sionaries in China. 
 
 The first man, with a family to settle in that sec- 
 tion, was J. E. Barnes, now of Central Church, Mobile. 
 As he went into the homes and held services, and talk- 
 ed at the firesides, of the better things religiously that 
 might be theirs, of church improvements, of Sunday 
 Schools, of missions and a ministry better paid, giv- 
 ing more time to the work to which they are called, 
 some of the preachers became alarmed. One of them 
 said : "We see now through it all. These young fel- 
 lows are putting new notions into the heads of the peo- 
 ple. If this thing goes on, we preachers that don't 
 know about these new ways, will have to get churches 
 to serve further back. Let*s raise a kick;" and a kick 
 they did raise. That was what W. C. Woods was up 
 against. It finally culminated in the unhappy event 
 spoken of above. Then the Lamar County Association 
 was organized. It might have been called "Liberty," 
 that is what they were contending for and what they 
 
234 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 got by going to themselves after their exclusion. Lib- 
 erty to work and give and co-operate. 
 
 J. H. Longcrier w^as a Boanerges, who fought bat- 
 tles when it was necessary. He was pastor in Jasper, 
 easily in reach of the territory I have been describing. 
 An adventurer, who had given it out that he was some 
 great personage, went to the Association and skinned 
 the Secretary of the Mission Board. When he was 
 through, Loncrier arose and said: "The Brother 
 thought the Secretary was not here, but he was right 
 here and heard every word he said." The fellow be- 
 gan to look around, and all necks were craned to see, 
 when the speaker went on : 'T am W. B. Crumpton, 
 Secretary of the Mission Board today." Then he went 
 in to wipe up the earth with the fellow, as nobody else, 
 not even the Secretary, could have done, had he been 
 present. Later Longcrier moved to Lamar, the ter- 
 ritory of W. C. Woods, the modest old man of God, 
 of whom I have written. 
 
 The Lord doesn't need many Longcriers, or he 
 would have raised up more, but he needs some men 
 strong of body, and voice and mind, unafraid, informed 
 and loving God, hating sham and capable of knocking 
 into smithereens the subterfuge of deception. 
 
 Lamar County and several counties of North west 
 Alabama were put on the Missionary map, largely 
 through the labors of Jim Longcrier, aided by a few 
 modest men of God like W. C. Woods. 
 
 Keep your eye on that section. Great coal mines 
 are there, the Baptists numerous and the miners are 
 going to be there by the hundreds of thousands. 
 
 One of the old heroes of Jones' Valley, I must not 
 fail to mention. I refer to Andrew Jackson Waldrop, 
 familiarly known, in his old age, as : "Uncle Jackie." 
 
 He was born in Christian County, Kentucky, in 1815. 
 His life in Alabama began when he was only three 
 years old. How much education he got, or where he 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 235 
 
 got it, I do not know. But I do know, his native ability, 
 his down-right honest way of getting along and his 
 out-spoken opinion, put him at the front as a leader 
 of men. He was modest, but not timid, or cowardly. 
 I doubt if he knew what fear was. He was baptized in 
 1833, by the grand old hero, Hosea Holcomb and join- 
 ed him as a preaching companion, after he was or- 
 dained in 1842. 
 
 For half a century, he was counted as one of the 
 wisest leaders among Baptists in North Alabama. He 
 was pastor of Ruhama (East Lake) church for thirty 
 years. He gave much time to missionary work. Be- 
 cause of the propaganda of missionary truth, by him 
 and Hosea Holcomb, it is said, the Hardshells did not 
 flourish in Jefiferson County. He was a man of af- 
 fairs, taking an interest in all that concerned the peo- 
 ple and was made Clerk of the Court and Tax Collec- 
 tor of his county for a number of years. He was a 
 business man and always had a good home of his own. 
 He was clerk of the Canaan (Birmingham) Asso- 
 ciation from 1844 to 1857 when he was made Modera- 
 tor, serving in that capacity for 41 years. 
 
 He was the great peace-maker of all that section, 
 being sent for long distances to settle church troubles. 
 He had one son, E. B., who became a preacher and an- 
 other, R. J., who became Professor of Mathematics in 
 Howard College when the Institution was moved from 
 Marion to East Lake. **Big Jud" the boys called him 
 and he was much loved by his people. 
 
 Uncle Jack fell asleep in his 81st year and was buried 
 in the great valley where for so many years, he had 
 spent his useful life. 
 
 The Lord be praised for men of his type ! 
 J. E. Cox was born near Raleigh, N. C, in 1837. 
 In 1850 while in Arkansas he was converted. 
 In 1859 he was baptized by the old veteran, L. B. 
 Harbin in Walker County. While a soldier, like many 
 
236 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 another, he made vows to God of service should he be 
 spared. Through the influence of a pious wife he first 
 ventured to pray in the home. When he became a 
 school teacher, he opened his school with prayer. Af- 
 ter many misgivings, he was licensed to preach and 
 later was set apart to the full work of the ministry. 
 While teaching at Jasper, the county seat of Walker 
 County, he organized a church there, which he served 
 for several years. 
 
 T. M. Bailey, the first Secretary of the Mission Board 
 found him teaching school and serving churches and 
 for several years had him as one of the Board's evan- 
 gehsts. Most of the Ministry of his day have passed 
 away. Not one beside himself, of his fellow evangel- 
 ists, except the writer of these lines, remain. Brother 
 Cox is a man of frail build, but to the limit of his 
 strength, he has answered the Master's call and now in 
 his 83rd year awaits His summon to "Come Home." 
 
 John B. Appleton was born in South Carolina in 1827. 
 His mother was a Waller, a grand daughter of John 
 Waller of Virginia, a noted Baptist preacher, who in 
 the days of persecution in Virginia was imprisoned 
 for preaching and through the grated windows of the 
 jail preached to the people assembled on the outside. 
 He joined the church at 19, came to Alabama in 43. 
 After many experiences with all sorts of teachers, he 
 got a pretty good education. Enough to enable him 
 to teach acceptably. In 1885 he was ordained. Dr. J. 
 J. D. Renfroe, preaching the sermon. 
 
 He was Moderator of the Cherokee Association for 
 25 years and pastor of Collinsville for 35 years. Rear- 
 ed on a farm he felt the pull of the farm throughout 
 his life. Most of his ministry was given to Dekalb 
 and Cherokee counties. I am sure he had some rich ex- 
 periences in his ministry, but I was unable to get any 
 of them. My recollection of him is: He was a very 
 modest man — I judge he was not combative in his 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 237 
 
 ministry, though if his doctrines were assailed he 
 could have stood his own with most any one who 
 would face him. 
 
 He lived in The Big Wills Valley, a section noted 
 for its fertile lands. I judge he secured a good farm 
 and tended it well. 
 
 I had an experience with a fine man once, a member 
 of one of his churches. The brother drove a good 
 horse — that is always the sign of a thrifty fellow in 
 the country. He told me how he became possessed 
 of a few acres of the valley land, how hard he worked 
 and later became the owner of a larger body — later 
 still, of a larger farm, until now he had a fine farm 
 which he was successfully working with improved 
 implements. It came out in the conversation that now, 
 one could hardly buy land in the valley. It was very 
 valuable. The conversation turned on the church life. 
 Brother Appelton was the pastor, had been his fath- 
 er's pastor. In the days of his father they paid the 
 pastor $100 and they kept it still at the same figure. 
 The people had become wealthy in the possession of 
 lands, all lived well in good homes and the dear old 
 hero rode from his farm down the Valley once a month 
 at the same salary paid in the days of this brother's 
 father. 
 
 Grand old men they were, but they failed to teach 
 the churches their duty to support the ministry. If 
 one will think, he can see a good reason for their 
 being remiss in this. How could they, when they were 
 giving practically all their time to secular employ- 
 ment? Thus the churches were set back a century. It 
 will be many years before they will recover 
 from the wrong lessons they were taught in those 
 early days. And to this good day, there are hundreds 
 of preachers who are doing as dear Brother Appleton 
 did. The way he did, all did in that day. But after all 
 we owe much to the pioneer preachers of that day. 
 
238 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Mention has been made of the first Church, Birm- 
 ingham, with Purser as pastor, to be followed with W. 
 L. Pickard and he, by B. D. Gray, now the incompar- 
 able Corresponding Secretary of the Home Mission 
 Board of Atlanta. The first pastor of the Southside 
 was J. J. D. Renfroe ; he was followed by P. T. Hale, 
 a great pastor, with an evangelistic turn, which led 
 him to hold meetings in his church frequently. Thus, 
 he built up a great membership of aggressive people. 
 After Hale, came A. C. Davidson, who did here prob- 
 ably the work of his life. 
 
 The first drive ever pulled off in Alabama was by 
 the Judson people, when in six weeks the Institution 
 was swept clear of debt. J. C. Bush of Mobile, with 
 a generous gift, was the instigator of the movement. 
 That fired the hearts of the Howard and State Mis- 
 sion people, and, under the leadership of Gray, Dav- 
 idson and J. G. Lowry, whose influence brought D. L. 
 Lewis, one of his members, to start the ball rolling 
 with a gift of $5,000. Thus a great achievement was 
 put over, which served to put the Baptists on the map, 
 as a great force in the State. Never before, had they 
 thought they could do anything beyond the ordinary. 
 While that achievement meant very much to us, I 
 doubt not, it helped to lift Gray out of the pastorate 
 into general work. Acclaimed a great money raiser, 
 he was soon called away, where that sort of talent was 
 in great demand. I have followed him with my pray- 
 ers and will do so to the end. 
 
 Generally when a Secretary has read his report and 
 one or two of the picked speakers have girated, the 
 Convention is ready to go on to something else. Not 
 so, when Gray reads his report ; no matter who the 
 spell-binder, who has spoken, or is expected to speak, 
 there is an insistent call for Gray. There is no man 
 in the body, heard with more pleasure. What a power 
 he is ! May his tribe increase ! 
 
Part Eight 
 CENTRAL ALABAMA BAPTISTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 These might be embraced in east and west Hnes run- 
 ning below Birmingham and extending South as far 
 down as Greenville in Butler County. The section em- 
 braces the famous "Black Belt," called so, because of 
 the black soil that covers much of the territory, or the 
 predominance of the negro race. 
 
 Here lived before the Civil War the most wealthy 
 people of the State. Their slaves were the most val- 
 uable property they possessed, consequntly they were 
 the worst hurt when freedom to the slaves came and, 
 they were slowest to recover from the effects of the 
 war. 
 
 Because of their wealth and their proximity to the 
 best schools, they were easily the most cultured peo- 
 ple of the State. 
 
 The State University at Tuskaloosa, the Howard and 
 Judson at Marion and Baptist Colleges for girls at 
 Tuskegee and Tuskaloosa, two Methodist Colleges, at 
 Greensboro and Auburn, noted schools at Oxford and 
 LaFayette and numbers of private schools in many 
 towns, furnished Central Alabama with school advan- 
 tages not enjoyed by any other part of the State. 
 
 The Baptist paper in the State was printed in this 
 territory from the start as the following: 
 
 "Historical Sketch of the Alabama Baptist" shows : 
 
 About 1835 "The Family Visitor" a Baptist paper 
 was printed in Wetumpka, Rev. John D. Williams was 
 its editor. Five years later, it was turned over to Gen- 
 eral E. D. King and Dr. Milo P. Jewett at Marion 
 where it was published as "The Alabama Baptist." 
 
240 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Nine years later it is spoken of "as of limited circula- 
 tion but potent for good among the churches of the 
 State." The name was changed to: "The Alabama 
 Baptist Advocate," Dr. A. W. Chambliss, editor. After 
 the failure of "The Western Recorder," a Baptist pa- 
 per in New Orleans, the subscription list fell into the 
 hands of the Marion paper, which was the only Bap- 
 tist paper published between the Chattahoochee and 
 the Rio Grande, and the name was changed to "The 
 South Western Baptist." 
 
 In 1852 the paper was moved to Montgomery, own- 
 ed by a stock company, A. Williams and Samuel Hen- 
 derson editors. Two years later it was moved to Tus- 
 kegee, then a strong Baptist center in the State and 
 Dr. Henderson became editor in chief. A little later 
 it was purchased by the Convention from Judge W. P. 
 Chilton for $3,000. 
 
 In 1856 Rev. H. E. Taliaferro of Talladega, joined 
 Dr. Henderson, his brother-in-law, in editorial man- 
 agement, after a few years to become editor-in-chief 
 when Dr. Henderson resigned. Rev. John E. Dawson 
 of Georgia became associate editor. During the Civil 
 War Dr. Henderson again became editor. 
 
 In 1865 "The South Western Baptist" was merged 
 into the "Christian Index" of Atlanta, Georgia, in 
 which an Alabama Baptist page was printed, Dr. Sam- 
 uel Henderson, editor. 
 
 After seven years, "The Alabama Baptist," a new 
 paper was started in Marion, Dr. W. W. Wilkerson 
 and J. B. Lovelace furnishing the money. Dr. E. T. 
 Winkler became editor-in-chief. His associates were 
 E. B. Teague, J. J. D. Renfroe and D. W. Gwin. David 
 Lyon a ministerial student of Howard College, was 
 business manager. Later the paper was given to the 
 convention by the two generous-hearted laymen who 
 owned it, Rev. John L. West being office manager. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 241 
 
 Selma became the place of publication. It was given 
 to West and others about 1876. 
 
 In 1877 it was burned out. In 1881 Dr. W. C. Cleve- 
 land of Selma, became editor, he and West becoming 
 the owners. In 1884 it became the property of Maj. 
 J. G. Harris, who brought it to Montgomery. For a 
 few years it was leased to C. W. Hare and Jas. Pope. 
 For one year, W. B. Crumpton, purchasing a half in- 
 terest, became the editor with E. F. Baber, the long- 
 time office editor. 
 
 In 1902 it was sold to Rev. Frank Willis Barnett and 
 moved to Birmingham. For a short time it was known 
 as "The Southern and Alabama Baptist," but in a lit- 
 tle while resumed the old name. 
 
 In 1919, after seventeen years, it returned to 
 
 Montgomery, becoming the property of the Baptist 
 
 Convention, with Dr. W. F. Yarbrough, acting editor. 
 
 Now May 28th, 1920, it is in Birmingham edited by 
 
 L. L. Gwaltney. 
 
 This closes the brief story of the paper showing 
 that the Baptists of Alabama have practically had, in 
 continuous publication a paper since 1835 — 85 years. 
 
 With the advantage of great wealth, great schools 
 and the publication of their paper, it is little wonder 
 that the Baptists of Central Alabama were in advance 
 of their brethren in other sections. Their culture 
 brought to them also cultivated preachers. The loca- 
 tion of the Home Mission Board in 1845 at Marion, 
 furnished another source of religious influence which 
 told mightily for their advantage. Its Secretary and 
 the strong men of the denomination from the North 
 and East, had a fine moulding effect upon them and 
 their children. 
 
 Another factor in their favor was the running of 
 the railroad east and west across the State. There was 
 no road until 1870, running north and South. The 
 
242 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 brethren in the north were cut off, so that the Conven- 
 tion for years was practically a Central Alabama affair. 
 
 Now I come to the later times. There was no such 
 destitution here as I found in the Tennessee Valley 
 and other sections. Where there had been need of 
 help, the Home Mission Board at Marion had extended 
 it. But there were towns, without Baptist churches 
 and many churches without pastors. Some churches 
 had practically gone out of existence, having only a 
 few widely scattered members. 
 
 G. S. Anderson was brought from South Carolina 
 and did fine work in the Black Belt, planting churches 
 at Lowndesboro and other points and resuscitating 
 those at Demopolis, Uniontown, Hayneville and New 
 Berne. 
 
 When the Secretary called attention to the situa- 
 tion at Eutaw, the county seat of Green County, with 
 only three members, two women and one man, a prom- 
 inent member of the Board announced it as his belief, 
 that we should not undertake to hold places where 
 the case seemed hopeless. The Secretary stood out 
 for holding every inch of ground and his contention 
 saved Eutaw from abandonment. Joe Herring, a 
 young fellow about through school, was our first mis- 
 sionary pastor there. For years, the church has been 
 a strong self-sustaining body. This is only an ex- 
 ample of the work done in those days, saving weak 
 churches, where to-day we have as strong churches 
 as others and, in some cases, stronger. 
 
 The story of Greensboro is a sad one. There, the 
 great Methodist College, the Southern University, 
 was located. Of course that denomination was in the 
 ascendancy. The Baptists once had a good church, 
 how strong, I do not know. After the Civil War, the 
 Carpet Baggers and the Freedman's Bureau were in 
 charge. The negroes were allowed to vote and the 
 Legislatures were elected to carry out the reconstruc- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 243 
 
 tion ideas of the powers that then existed. Wisely, 
 maybe they made the new county of Hale. The Bap- 
 tist church stood in a very prominent place in the 
 town and was wanted for a Court House. The church 
 was probably weak in membership of white people, 
 with a very large membership of negroes. They be- 
 came discouraged and were, unwisely, I think, advised 
 to sell their property. A good price was given for it. 
 Fifteen hundred of the amount, went to assist the ne- 
 groes to build them a house and the balance was given 
 to Howard College and used to tide it over the period 
 of reconstruction. 
 
 I always hung my head when I passed Greensboro, 
 to think that one of the best towns in the State, a 
 County Seat, was without a Baptist church. After 
 conferring with S .0. Y. Ray, our church-builder, he 
 went there to spy out the land. He made his report 
 and was willing to undertake the job. He gathered 
 the few Baptists together and organized. 
 
 Seeing the Financial Secretary of the Methodist Col- 
 lege he said to me : *T understand you are going to un- 
 dertake to build a church in Greensboro. I am glad of 
 that; when the time comes, I will help you raise the 
 money. We need one of your churches there.'* He had 
 the right spirit about it. 
 
 After the work was inaugurated, Ray retired to un- 
 dertake a difficult job elsewhere and young brother 
 A. R. Hardy, of Mississippi, a nephew of the writer, 
 was put in charge. He was a full graduate of Missis- 
 sippi College, and of a Medical College. God called 
 him into the ministry and he took the full course in 
 the Seminary at Louisville. With a cheerful heart, 
 he undertook the difficult task and was succeeding glo- 
 riously when the grim Reaper appeared. Not until 
 the revelations of the last great day, will be under- 
 stand why he was taken, in the midst of prospective 
 
244 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 usefulness on this needy field. At a memorial service 
 in Greensboro, Dr. Geo. B. Eager, taking a leading 
 part. Dr. Otts, a Presbyterian minister, delivered what 
 the paper rightly denominated : 
 
 "A Remarkable Tribute," v^hich I am constrained to 
 give here as a part of the sad story of Greensboro. 
 
 "Brother Hardy did not live long among us, but he 
 lived long enough for us to catch the spirit of his con- 
 secrated life. His death was not a violent martyr- 
 dom, but it was the self-sacrifice of a consecrated life. 
 He was literally exhausted, worn out, in what he be- 
 lieved to be his God-appointed work. He had but 
 one idea, he lived among us for but one thing; to ga- 
 ther a congregation, and to rebuild the Baptist church 
 in this town. In this work he was impelled by a di- 
 vine passion for it. He worked beyond his physical 
 strength. Truly, it may be said of him, "The zeal of 
 thy house has eaten me up." When he began this 
 work, few among us thought that he would ever suc- 
 ceed; he was so modest that he seemed to be held 
 back by a timidity that prophesied ultimate failure. He 
 was modest, but he was brave; he was quiet but hd 
 was persistent. He manifested the spirit of a man 
 who was called to his work. His life said, "This one 
 thing I do. It is my divinely appointed task." There 
 was a peculiarity in him that I often wondered at and 
 admired: he let everybody know that he was a Bap- 
 tist, and that he had come into the community to re- 
 suscitate the cause of the Baptists, and to plant and 
 build up a Baptist church ; and yet, while thus in- 
 tensely denominational, he gave no offense to any one. 
 He was denominational, but not sectarian. He was 
 always spoken of by people of all denominations as 
 "our" Baptist preacher, and his church enterprise as 
 "our" Baptist church. This was the peculiar power 
 of Brother Hardy. It was the spirit of Christ in- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 245 
 
 tensely devoted to his denominational conviction. He 
 was not bigoted. He was broad-minded and pure- 
 hearted. He felt a genuine interest in everybody and 
 in everybody's church ; and therefore, everybody in 
 all churches felt a genuine interest in him and his 
 w^ork. 
 
 This is manifested in what we see before our eyes 
 tonight. Here we are in the Methodist church. All 
 the other churches are closed. The house is crowded. 
 I have been connected with the religious life of Greens- 
 boro for more than a quarter of a century ; I have been 
 in all kinds of meetings in all of our churches ; I have 
 wept with those who wept, and rejoiced with those 
 who rejoiced; but in some respects, this memorial ser- 
 vice here tonight is at one and the same time, the most 
 solemn and the sweetest union meeting that it has ever 
 been my privilege to share in. 
 
 The spirit of the Master is here, and the spirit of 
 his servant is here, even of him who was faithful 
 unto death. The workman has departed, but his 
 work will not cease. The Master will raise up help and 
 helpers, and carry it on to completion." 
 
 The Mission Board though not in existence when the 
 Greensboro Church was dissolved and the property 
 sold, readily recognized the claim the Church had on 
 the Convention, and liberally aided in the support of 
 the pastor. 
 
 It is a great joy to me to think of the nice church 
 building and pastor's home and the preacher for all 
 time, they now have. The Methodist church was not 
 hurt by our going, their College was greatly helped 
 and the whole community benefited. 
 
 At Auburn, another Methodist stronghold, their Col- 
 lege became the Agricultural and Mechanical College, 
 belonging to the State. Large numbers of Baptist boys 
 attend the school. The Mission Board, rightly 
 
246 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 enough, considered it its duty to see that these boys 
 had a spiritual home while they were in college. The 
 church, unable to support a full time preacher, was 
 helped by the Board. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 If Central Alabama begins at Birmingham and ex- 
 tends beyond Montgomery, those two cities are on 
 the north and south borders and may be claimed. A 
 book might be written about these two alone. The 
 first Church at Birmingham was helped in the begin- 
 ning by the Home Board for a little while. The South- 
 side, was born able to walk alone, no Board helping 
 it. But almost every other church in all that sec- 
 tion, except Ruhama (East Lake) and possibly one or 
 two more, were organized or aided by missionaries of 
 the Board. 
 
 The strong churches in our centers miss great op- 
 portunities when they do not give direction and aid at 
 points where new interests should be started. What 
 is said of Birmingham is equally true of Montgom- 
 ery, the Capital City. Every Baptist church there ex- 
 cept the old First, has been aided by the Mission 
 Board. In all the territory between these cities, in 
 almost every new town the Board has lent a helping 
 hand. The Ministerial Students at Howard College 
 have been a great force. Some have criticised the 
 boys and, some of them deserve it, but on the whole, 
 they are doing and have done, valuable work. 
 
 I spoke of the wealth in slaves which the Central 
 Alabama people enjoyed ; that was long before any- 
 body dreamed of the wealth that was coming to the 
 northern border of this territory in coal and iron. 
 Much of the wealth accumulated there is falling into 
 Baptist hands and will be consecrated to God's serv- 
 ice. We have a forecast of this in the effort made 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 247 
 
 in the 75 million campaign when the Birmingham As- 
 sociation rolled up the magnificent sum of $800,000. 
 I think I can best finish the story of this section by 
 telling of 
 
 Some of the preachers and laymen I have known. 
 
 W. C. Clevelzuid: It is easy in a way to write about 
 him, I knew him so well. He was one of the finest 
 types of a Southern gentleman. Reared in the heart 
 of the Black Belt near Selma, in a home of culture 
 and refinement, thoroughly equipped at the University 
 of Alabama and the medical college, he became a prac- 
 ticing physician, for a time in Macon, Ga. But he heard 
 the call of God and entered the ministry. Old Shiloh 
 twelve miles from Selma, was the home church of the 
 family. While in Georgia, he was made Superintendent 
 of a great Sunday School. Doubtless God used that 
 school to pull him into the preaching service. I met him 
 first in 1870, when he was pastor at Carlowville. He had 
 what he called "an ideal pastorate — two churches about 
 ten miles apart, with several miles of bad road between 
 so that the congregations could not visit each other, 
 thus enabling the pastor to use, without embarrass- 
 ment, the same sermon for each place." He was a fine 
 specimen of a man, genial as a school boy, but digni- 
 fied as a judge, when occasion required. A great stick- 
 ler for propriety, he was the very kind of a man for 
 me to fall in with in the beginning of my ministry as 
 I was by temperament, a rough rider. Though a dili- 
 gent student and forceful speaker, he seldom trusted 
 himself to speak without a manuscript. On his feet, 
 at a 5th Sunday meeting he could make a thrilling 
 speech, off hand. 
 
 He, more than any other man in the State, was at 
 the bottom of all the planning for progress among 
 the Baptists. During his pastorate at Selma his 
 
248 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 greatest work was done. I doubt not, he it was, who 
 managed the scheme to make his senior deacon, Judge 
 Jonathan Haralson, President of the State Conven- 
 tion. 
 
 Cleveland suffered much with insomnia — he could 
 talk most of the night to one he was interested in and 
 seem none the worse for it next day. In that, I prob- 
 ably was some help to him, for I was a great sleeper 
 and certainly shut him off early in the night when we 
 were together, as we often were. Anything like 
 coarseness, or irreverence he could not for a moment 
 tolerate. He began a meeting with me in a fine town. 
 I was most anxious and so expressed myself to him. 
 A great sermon he gave us in the morning to a full 
 house. That night the house was packed, the preacher 
 seemed to be at his best as he discoursed from the 
 text : "Prepare to Meet Thy God." 
 
 A profound impression was made upon the whole 
 congregation, much intensified, when one of the finest 
 men in town marched up the aisle taking the hand of 
 the preacher saying, "Pray for me." His wife would 
 have us to go home with them. Reaching the home 
 the man brought up the subject at once. I sat by while 
 they talked. After awhile the man said : "I see it all 
 as plain as daylight. You preachers are the most pa- 
 tient men on earth — you make the truth plain to us 
 and we march right out of the church and go on living 
 as before. Not the least discouraged, you will get up 
 the next sermon and preach to the same crowd, from 
 another angle. We know you are dead in earnest in 
 our behalf and no selfish motives possess you. I can't 
 see how you have the patience, if it was me, Td cuss 
 'em out and quit." I saw at once what had happened, 
 when the preacher pushed his chair back and never 
 spoke another word. 
 
 When we went to our room he said: "Wash, Fm 
 going home in the morning." And go he did, in spite 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 249 
 
 of all the protesting- I could muster. The man meant 
 not the least disrespect, had just spoken out in a plain 
 blunt fashion — really in complimentary terms of the 
 ministry. But the preacher's sensitive nerves were 
 shocked and he couldn't rally. Cleveland, in spite of 
 his sensitive nature, was a great leader. He was Pres- 
 ident of the Convention, editor for a time of the Ala- 
 bama Baptist and leader of the Baptist hosts until his 
 health failed him. He was the chief adviser of Bailey, 
 our first Secretary and adopted me as my big brother 
 when I stepped into the place made vacant by the going 
 of Bailey from the State. 
 
 I spoke of his being foremost in the progressive 
 movement; T. M. Bailey was his faithful ally, but for 
 him I doubt if Cleveland would have been as efficient 
 — indeed they were each essential to the other. Truly 
 a great man in Israel fell when Cleveland's light went 
 out. 
 
 George Miles, a layman, the son of an old, unpre- 
 tentious, godly preacher. He learned business well 
 and carried his business into his religion. I do not re- 
 member how many fraternities he belonged to — he 
 seemed to love them all ; but he loved his church and 
 gave his time to it without stint. When I was off in 
 Kentucky, he became President of the Board. As soon 
 as the way opened, he it was, who began the move- 
 ment to have me back. It is generally considered un- 
 wise to call a man back to a place he once occupied. 
 I do not know if there was much discussion over the 
 proposition to bring me back, — I never inquired, but 
 George wrote the letter. I didn't have my ear to the 
 ground listening — indeed I didn't know of the vacancy, 
 but when the invitation came, I answered by wire, ac- 
 cepting. My work in Kentucky had been pleasant. It 
 was a great country and the people were hospitable, 
 my wife and children were well pleased, but I had not 
 felt at home a day. I was too old to transplant. I told 
 
250 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 my friends, when I returned, if the moving bee began 
 buzzing in their bonnets, when they were over fifty 
 years old, they had better write me and find out how 
 an old fellow felt in a new country — I might save them 
 some unhappy days and the moving expenses. I had 
 accomplished something, as agent for Georgetown Col- 
 lege and had some great plans ahead, which 
 afterwards, were partially carried out. My ser- 
 vices were profitable to the College, but my best work 
 remained to be done in Alabama. When I returned, 
 George Miles, Gid Harris, George Ellis and the rest, 
 received me with open arms. 
 
 For sixteen years, what a work the Lord enabled me 
 to do! 
 
 Crushed at the loss of my wife, whose remains I 
 brought back to Marion, I was saved from despair by 
 leaping into the most arduous work I ever did. 
 
 A debt-paying campaign was on in the interest of 
 Howard and the Mission Board. It was a mercy to 
 me to become immersed in that movement. My wife, 
 through all the years, had been a faithful minder of 
 *'the stuff" while her husband was out in the Lord's 
 work. 
 
 As President of the Board, George Miles was my 
 chief adviser ; his heart was tender, his judgment good, 
 his decisions quick. When I returned I took up anew 
 the Prohibition fight, as a sort of side line. George was 
 an ardent supporter in that. He became chairman of 
 a Law and Order League in Montgomery. Many busi- 
 ness men were afraid to be active. Montgomery was 
 not only a wet town, it was soaked through. There 
 was a bad element, who dared to do anything. Threa- 
 tening letters were often received by men who were 
 active ; scandalous stories were circulated to injure 
 characters and personal violence was threatened. 
 George Miles was acquainted with all these things, 
 but he didn't waver. When other men took cold feet. 
 
A BOOK OF iMEMORIES. 251 
 
 lest their business should be injured, he stood by his 
 convictions. What a friend I lost and what a leader 
 of the denomination was gone, when he was called 
 home. 
 
 Judge Jonathan Haralson: He was my friend, ready 
 to see me anywhere at any time, I knew nothing about 
 office work, book-keeping and the like and needed 
 some one, with a sympathetic heart to coach me. I 
 found in this distinguished man the friend I needed. 
 He was a genial soul, an accomplished gentleman of 
 the old school, but could "condescend beautifully, to 
 men of low estate." He was so pleasant in his manners, 
 that a brother in the Convention said, "Judge Haral- 
 son has such a pleasing way of silencing a fellow, he 
 really felt better after it was done, than if he had 
 been allowed to go on." 
 
 His election to the Presidency of the South- 
 ern Baptist Convention was a memorable event 
 at Memphis. The session was held in a build- 
 ing, much too small for the crowd — it was pack- 
 ed, the delegates taking most of the pews, others had 
 to stand around the walls. Ex-Governor Eagles as 
 Vice-President, undertook to organize the Conven- 
 tion. He was as good a man as could be found and 
 everybody had the most profound respect for him, 
 but he knew nothing whatever about parliamentary 
 practice. He made blunder after blunder in his rulings 
 and things began to go to pieces. Finally the point 
 w^as reached when nominations were in order; M, B. 
 Wharton of Montgomery, got the floor and nominated 
 Jonathan Haralson of Alabama. I think there were no 
 others — any way, the judge was elected. When he took 
 the gavel, giving it a sharp rap or two and with his 
 clear ringing voice, called the house to order, there 
 was perfect quiet and everybody knew a master hand 
 was directing affairs. The moment he declared the 
 Convention ready for business. J. M. Frost, his pastor, 
 
252 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 secured recognition. "What is it Sir?" the Judge said 
 in a commanding tone. "I want to make a motion," 
 said Frost. With a rap of the gavel came the answer: 
 "Sit down sir, you are out of order." From that mo- 
 ment the Convention became aware that the king of 
 parliamentarians was on the throne. The episode be- 
 tween the Judge and his pastor worked so beautifully 
 I accused them of having rehearsed it before they left 
 home, but they insisted it was entirely impromptu and 
 it was, of course. 
 
 Judge Haralson held the place of City Judge in Sel- 
 ma for some years, and finally died an Associate Jus- 
 tice of the Supreme Court. 
 
 A good and true man, loved and honored by his Bap- 
 tist brethren and all the citizens of a great State. He 
 served the Convention as President for 17 years, and 
 the Southern Baptist Convention 9 years and neither 
 Convention ever had a better. 
 
 When H. S. D. Mallory was called home, he was 72 
 years old and for more than a half century had been 
 a Christian. He was pre-eminently God's friend and 
 a friend of humanity. His church life was beautiful. 
 Great lawyer that he was, humble as a little child as 
 he sat at the feet of his pastor to learn, he then went 
 out, as a "doer of the word." 
 
 He loved and well served his denomination and was 
 implicity trusted by his brethren. When the Mission 
 Board was located at Selma, in 1880, he became one 
 of its members and remained one as long as his health 
 would permit. 
 
 When there were differences in the Board, he it was 
 who reconciled them; when legal advice was needed, 
 it was his pleasure to give it. 
 
 He was conservative by nature, but when sure of 
 his ground, nothing could move him. As President of 
 the Baptist State Convention for five years, he guided 
 well the affairs of the body. But his interest did not 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 253 
 
 stop with his denomination, he loved Christian men 
 wherever found. 
 
 He was a Democrat in the stormy days of reconstruc- 
 tion. Chairman of the State Committee at one time, 
 leading the party through tempest and storm, ap- 
 plauded by every loyal Democrat. He was one of 
 the first prominent public man, to declare for Prohibi- 
 tion. When he made the race for Governor, he bold- 
 ly avowed that cause. That was more than the wet 
 forces in the party could stand and they decreed his 
 defeat. The HOW of its doing, is known only to the 
 wily politicians of that day. Not a soul doubted his 
 ability ; he was clean of character and everybody was 
 his personal friend, but he feared God and loved hu- 
 manity, and would rather be right than to be Gov- 
 ernor. When he declared his hatred for BOOZE, 
 the leaders knifed him. Without a murmur, he ac- 
 cepted defeat, returned to his lovely home and to the 
 practice of his profession. How glad we were that he 
 lived to see prohibition triumphant in the State and 
 throughout the Nation. 
 
 Making the campaign for Governor, was probably 
 the hardest burden he ever carried. One of the secrets 
 of his modest, but great life, came out when he said to 
 the writer, during that time : "Brother Wash, the cost 
 of this thing, will be considerable and I am not a rich 
 man and, I may lose it after all ; but I don't feel that, 
 like I do my absence from home. I am a home-lover — 
 didn't know how I loved it until this came on." That 
 home-loving man and his queenly wife, presiding over 
 his home and a family of intelligent, loyal children, 
 was one of the most lovely sights in all Selma. When 
 that noble wife was taken from him a year before his 
 death, the light of his life went out. He was never 
 himself again. His children, as loyal a band as parent 
 ever had, rallied around him and did all that was pos- 
 sible to make him happy and comfortable. Every Bap- 
 
254 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 tist heart and the hearts of all who knew him, went 
 out in deepest sympathy to these bereaved children, 
 especially to Miss Kathleen, of whom her father was 
 so proud. His last end was beautiful: while, repeating 
 the Lord's prayer, maybe in concert with some mem- 
 ber of the family, when his lips repeated: *"Thy will 
 be done," he became unconscious. It was my sad 
 pleasure to be present at his funeral. 
 
 Selma certainly did him honor. All stores were 
 closed, the street cars stopped running and the people 
 from the whole country were represented. 
 
 The thin line of old Confederates, with their grey 
 hairs and their feeble steps, were there to honor the 
 memory of the man who, when only a boy, entered the 
 Confederate service. 
 
 H. R. Schramme: No more worthy preacher ever 
 lived in Alabama. As his name indicates, he was de- 
 scended from German stock. He once kept a little 
 store in the suburbs of Eufaula. He was converted at 
 a meeting held in the first Baptist Church. When he 
 announced his purpose to preach, the Association took 
 him up and sent him to Howard College. 
 
 He was ever grateful, especially to the first-church, 
 for their aid. In his prayers he often plead with the 
 Lord to help him in his studies, acknowledging his 
 weakness and telling the Lord how good his people 
 had been to him and what a disappointment it would 
 be to them, if he should fail of graduation. 
 
 If I mistake not, when the time drew near for the 
 final examination and he was fearful of failure, he 
 made the same plea with the faculty. Not noted for 
 brilliancy, but for dogged persistence and deep relig- 
 ious feelings, he gained the respect of every student 
 and professor. 
 
 Colonel Murfee is reported to have said: "Schramme 
 found it very difficult to master his studies, but when 
 he came to Moral Science, he took to it like a duck 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 255 
 
 to water." As a preacher he was noted for his ac- 
 tivity as a pastor and a burning zeal for the salvation 
 of men. 
 
 He was a zealous advocate of missionary endeavor 
 and a loyal supporter of the organized work of the 
 denomination. Because of his persistence in urging 
 missionary collections, he did not retain a pastorate 
 long. I said to him, when he was taking a new field : 
 "Schramme, don't set your missionary colter too deep 
 at the start. Get acquainted with your people first, 
 then you can lead them." But he thought, to give 
 them the best first and the best in his estimation, was 
 to bring them to give for missions. There were Bap- 
 tists then as now, who didn't like it and he was soon 
 packing his goods for another move. 
 
 He had in him, the stuff martyrs are made of — he 
 would have burned at the stake, for what he believed. 
 
 He died a horrible death, mistaking carbolic acid 
 for a harmless drug. 
 
 J. M. Frost: It's a long time since I first saw him. 
 It was January, 1867, at Georgetown, Kentucky. I, a 
 man of twenty-five, an ex-Confederate, with little 
 educational preparation, entering the academy, he ten 
 years my junior, just from his home on a Kentucky 
 farm, from under the religious training of his preacher- 
 father, and well prepared to enter college. He, A. C. 
 Davidson and I were members of the same debating 
 society. After about two years, I quit College, and 
 returned to my native State, he remained until gradu- 
 ation. My school recollections of him were : He was 
 a hard student and always wanted to know. The class 
 was often detained by Frost's questions. Not many 
 evenings passed in the debating society that he didn't 
 "volunteer," if the opportunity opened. 
 
 Fifteen years after we parted, when I was on my 
 farm, 20 miles away, Judge Jonathan Haralson, of 
 Selma, asked: "Do you know Frost?" He was one of 
 
256 A BOOK OF AIEMORIES. 
 
 a committee to find a pastor for his church. My reply 
 was : "Judge, I remember him as a consecrated, hard- 
 working student who stuck to his job." It was all 
 I could say, for we had never been intimate and not 
 a line had passed betwten us through the years. " 'Con- 
 secrated, studious and sticking to his job;' that sounds 
 good," said the Judge. Back on my farm, that night, 
 at the request of the committee, I wrote him a letter 
 at Staunton, Virginia, which was his first intimation 
 of a call to Alabama. He soon became pastor of one 
 of the best churches in the South. In the same Coun- 
 ty, Association and Convention, often in each others* 
 homes, we became intimate friends. In a little while, 
 we had the privilege of having our Brother Davidson 
 near us at Marion. We three were members of the 
 State Mission Board. 
 
 The characteristics of Frost, the boy, followed him 
 his life through. That dogged determination to know, 
 that caused him to detain the class after recitation ; 
 that "consecrated, student habit and being on the 
 job," which commended him to Judge Haralson, were 
 his armor in the conflicts into which he was plunged, 
 which culminated in the organization of the Sunday 
 School Board. No prophet of old, with whom God 
 spoke face to face, was surer of his vision than was 
 this young man when he had thought and prayed it 
 through. 
 
 The American Baptist Publication Society of Phil- 
 adelphia was supplying the field with its literature. 
 Many of the leading men of the South were on its 
 staff of writers. Most of the people Avere well satis- 
 fied with the service the Society was rendering. But 
 the feeling grew that we of the South should have our 
 own publications. It was not a battle of giants, but 
 the battle of a stripling against the giants. His best 
 friend. Dr. Wm. E. Hatcher, did not yield to the young 
 man's plans for a long time. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 257 
 
 He was ridiculed, some called him crazy, but his 
 good nature, his arguments, which they could not an- 
 swer and his intense conviction, forced the respect of 
 all. The result is well known. A simple marble slab 
 is all that he needs to mark his resting place in the 
 cemetery. 
 
 He lives in what he accomplished and the most 
 costly marl)le would seem poor beside his real me- 
 morial : "The great Sunday School Building and the 
 publications of the Nashville Board and the streams 
 of benevolence it is sending out into the treasuries of 
 all the other Bozurds. 
 
 Frost was a great preacher, not in the sense of 
 oratory, but give him time and he never failed to 
 preach a telling sermon. It was great in that it up- 
 lifted the hearer and uplifted Christ his Savior. How 
 he magnified Grace in his preaching and writing! 
 How fitting, that they sung at his funeral at Louis- 
 ville :"Saved by Grace !" A strong denominational- 
 ist, yet he Avas gentle and tender in his dealings with 
 denominational differences. He was a strong 
 preacher and a popular pastor ; he was a preacher and 
 a business man combined ; a courtly gentleman, and 
 a companion for his children in his home. We will 
 never have the like of him again — maybe we will 
 never need one. Not a man, but men, dozens of them, 
 we will need to fill the places he has made. 
 
 A poor tribute this, because I put so much of my- 
 self in it, but how could I help it? Blessed is the de- 
 nomination that can produce a man like that ! His 
 work will live through the ages ! 
 
 Dr. E. T. Winkler, a great preacher, came into our 
 midst, to Marion from Charleston, South Carolina. 
 As a preacher, as a representative of the Howard, or 
 Judson, or as editor of The Alabama Baptist, he was 
 pre-eminently our greatest. But after only a few 
 years, he died. Everybody was inquiring the same 
 
258 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 thing: "Where can his successor be found?" By all 
 odds Marion was the most important place in the 
 State. Frost spoke to me about an old schoolmate of 
 ours, a classmate of his, 
 
 A. C. Davidson, then in Indiana. "Can he meas- 
 ure up to that place and fill Winkler's shoes?" I 
 asked. It had been years since I had seen or 
 heard of him. After discussing the matter, we got 
 hold of the committee and had him invited and, to 
 our great delight, he was called. How strange it 
 seemed, that after years of separation in different 
 States, we three were suddenly brought together in 
 a triangle, about thirty miles apart, members of the 
 same Association and, in a little while, all members 
 of the State Mission Board at Selma. That was not 
 an accident. God's hand was surely in it, as will be 
 seen, I think, by anybody at all devout. 
 
 Davy, came from Missouri, reared on a farm, 
 as most great preachers were. I saw him first 
 about Christmas, 1867, at Georgetown College, 
 Kentucky. He had been there since the beginning 
 of the session. We became members of the Ciceronian 
 Debating Society. Without doubt, he was the most 
 loved man in the school. He was a student, as he con- 
 tinues to be. I have a sermon which I sometimes 
 preach. I introduce it about thus : 
 
 "When I was Secretary of the Mission Board, I 
 was often called upon to make matches between 
 churches and preachers. 
 
 "A brother, who was Chairman of a pulpit Com- 
 mittee, wrote me to know the style of a certain 
 preacher asked if I thought he would suit his church. 
 I replied: 'His style can be best described by this 
 text : "Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith the 
 Lord." That is the text of my sermon and my old 
 friend "Davy" is the preacher whose "style" was 
 asked about. Who that has ever heard him can ever 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 259 
 
 forget the words of comfort that fell from his lips? 
 When one has gone through the deep waters, he will 
 never iind it in his heart to criticise his style, but 
 his poor soul will often crave to hear him again. I 
 know him as few know him — I was in his home for 
 a time — what a husband, what a father, what a host 
 was he. Filling the place of the great man who had 
 preceeded him and more than filling it, was the ver- 
 dict of all. For years he was almost idolized by 
 everybody in the town, the Howard and Judson and 
 throughout the State. Nobody ever told me who 
 were the ringleaders on the Mission Board, in pull- 
 ing me away from the farm and making me a Secre- 
 tary, but I suspect Davy and Frost had a good strong 
 hand in it. This is about the best place to say 
 
 A word about my becoming Secretary. In the fall 
 of the year, I had secured the services of one whom I 
 might trust, to take charge of my farm. I was very 
 happy over the arrangement. Summoned to Selma to 
 the Board meeting, I, like all the others, went wonder- 
 ing, whom we could get. When the Board was in ses- 
 sion and I was asked to retire, a flash of lightning, out 
 of the clear sky, would not have surprised me more. 
 When informed of my election and an answer was de- 
 manded, I had to acknowledge the fortunate ar- 
 arrangement I had just completed about my business. 
 It looked like it was a call from God. With many mis- 
 givings about my ability to man the job, I accepted, 
 and the rest is known. It was easy to accept, when 
 I knew Davy was to be my pastor in Marion, where 
 the Mission Board's headquarters were, and I would 
 see Frost every few day in Selma. 
 
 With a Board composed of as fine men as could 
 be found on the face of the earth, I couldn't fail 
 to learn and make the work go. The memory of 
 these noble men, almost every one of them 
 across the river now, fills my heart with grat- 
 
260 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 itude to God for the companioship of such a body of 
 his servants, given me just when I needed them most. 
 But my own best friends went away; Frost to 
 Richmond in the pastorate, later to lead the 
 forces in bringing to pass the establishment of 
 the Sunday School Board of which he became the Sec- 
 retary. My friend Davy, was called away to a great 
 church in Covington, Ky., a little later to the Presi- 
 dency of Georgetown and, later still, to South Side, 
 Birmingham. Now he is pastor of Livingston and 
 Eutaw. It is probable he will serve these good people 
 until the Master shall call him home. He is growing 
 old gracefully, the brotherhood delight to honor him. 
 At all the Preachers' meetings, he it is who serves as 
 Dean and nobody else is ever thought of for the 
 place. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 E. B. Teague was pastor at Selma, when I came 
 to Dallas County, he was an inspiration to me. He 
 had risen by dint of hard study, from the plow handles 
 to be one of our greatest men. His delivery was pe- 
 culiar, he'd sometimes grow excited and gesticu- 
 late in a manner never suggested in any book on 
 elocution ; but all the same, when he spoke, he was 
 listened to. He had taught school much in his early 
 life. He was an unflinching Baptist, but extremely 
 modest and gentle. He seldom antagonized anyone. 
 
 At one of my churches, I had him on the programme 
 for some denominaitonal subject. The programme 
 was printed in the paper. A Baptist brother asked 
 me: "When is the Sectarian question coming off? I 
 don't want to be there then." He was referring to 
 Dr. Teague's topic. I told Dr. Teague of the remark, 
 and spoke about the tenderfoots I had in the church 
 
I A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 261 
 
 and how, for that very reason, I'd put that subject on, 
 and put it in his hands. 
 
 To my amazement, the man whom I had 
 picked as the most cahn and self-possessed, to 
 show up the Baptist side, was rattled from the start, 
 and apologized all the way through. Afterwards, he 
 said : "Well, you are a candid, outspoken man. I want 
 you to speak right out and say what you think." My 
 answer was : *T think you apologized too much. "Ex- 
 actly what I felt, before I had spoken ten minutes," 
 he said. "I can't understand it, that is not my way — 
 fact is, guess I was rattled from hearing you tell 
 about the soft-shelled Baptists you have in your 
 church." 
 
 "Get you a patch while you are young, so you can 
 have a home to fall back on when you are old. I own 
 my father's old home, and expect, when the 
 churches lay me on the shelf, to retire there 
 and end my days." This was his uniform advice to 
 young preachers. Sure enough, he carried out his 
 purpose and ended his days on his "patch," or near 
 there. In another place I give advice to the young 
 preachers different from that of this wise man. In 
 "Howard College Fifty years Ago," I speak of the 
 part that Dr. Teague played in the removal of the 
 College and how it grieved him to do so. His friends 
 were glad that he lived to see the trouble passed 
 and the denomination reconciled to the removal. 
 
 Time and again I heard of Reminiscences he had 
 prepared which contained much valuable history of 
 Baptist affairs. When we think of a man like Teague, 
 so versatile, so entertaining, who knew so much of 
 history and yet not a line of his reminiscences have 
 been printed, it is discouraging for any one to write. 
 The loss of his Manuscript, if he left one, was a ca- 
 lamity. 
 
262 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Samuel Henderson: I had only a Convention ac- 
 quaintance with him. Several , times I heard him 
 preach and speak and was charmed with his ease in 
 handling himself, and his fluent, easy delivery, grow- 
 ing eloquent at times. He was not at all handsome, 
 but he was an entertaining speaker. 
 
 No one wielded a more graceful pen than Sam Hen- 
 derson. "Sam," as he was familiarly called, loved 
 editorial work and gave the Baptists a fine paper so 
 long as the Southwestern Baptist continued. When 
 he became the editor of the Alabama Department of 
 The Christian Index, of Atlanta, Georgia, some ac- 
 cused him of standing in the way of a new paper in 
 Alabama, for fear of his losing his job with the Index. 
 In the great dissension that came near dividing the 
 denomination, he was what they called a conserva- 
 tive writer, of the Howell wing, while Renfroe, his 
 neighbor, went with the Graves faction. 
 
 He lived to be an old man, leaving behind a host 
 of friends. He had a brother and son, who were 
 preachers. 
 
 Major John G. Harris, or if you please, "Gid" Har- 
 ris, as he was familiarly known, was a noble soul, 
 whom/God raised up at a period when he was needed. 
 He purchased The Alabama Baptist, and moved it to 
 Montgomery. Visiting the Associations in the in- 
 terest of his paper, he became widely known among 
 the Baptists. He stood high among the Masons also. 
 At one time he was elected elector on the Cleveland 
 ticket, and afterwards held office in Montgomery un- 
 der the Federal Administration. Later he was su- 
 perintendent of Education of Alabama. Through all 
 these means he became one of the best known men in 
 Alabama. He had a commanding presence, and would 
 attract attention in any crowd. He loved to be out 
 among the brethren, and especially fond of speaking. 
 The first time I saw him was at the Bigbee Associa- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 263 
 
 tion, where he made probably the first speech looking 
 to the inauguration of a plan for the comfort of 
 Aged Ministers. 
 
 Before the Convention, he advocated the move- 
 ment and it was started. Not much was done for this 
 object for some years, but he was the starter in Ala- 
 bama, and now all the States throughout the South- 
 ern Baptist Convention have combined and enlarged 
 the work, creating a Board. He was not a preacher, 
 but he was frequently appointed at the Association 
 to preach. He was open hearted and cheerful, and 
 was loved wherever known. As owner of The Ala- 
 bama Baptist, he was conservative, some thought 
 too much so, but he made the paper serve the denomi- 
 nation to good purpose at a critical period of its his- 
 tory. 
 
 George E. Brewer, or "Gentleman George," as I 
 feel to call him, whenever his name comes into my 
 mind. Always well dressed, in a good humor and po- 
 lite, he is marked instantly as a perfect gentleman. At 
 the age of eighty-eight, he still lives, in Columbus, 
 Georgia. In his early life, he was somewhat in poli- 
 tics, sent to the Legislature on several occasions. He 
 has been a preacher nearly sixty years. Was Captain 
 in the Confederate Army, and I have been told he 
 was one of the bravest. A Baptist, a Preacher, a 
 brave Soldier, and a perfect Gentleman: This is a 
 combination hard to beat. Brother George is amiable 
 too. I have seen him tried, but never once did he for- 
 get himself. He honestly beUeves feet-washing an 
 ordinance of the church, but he is a Missionary — a 
 combination I have never found in any other man. In 
 my rough way, sometimes I have rather thrown off 
 on the foot-washers. Brother George wrote me once : 
 "I wish you wouldn't do that. I love you. I believe 
 in the work you are doing, and you know I am a 
 Missionary, but you sometimes hurt me in your 
 
264 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 speeches by your slurs on feet-washers." I apologized, 
 of course, for I was wrong — that is no way to win 
 people, but to drive them from you. Then I wrote 
 proposing we have a little friendly controversy in the 
 Alabama Baptist on the subject, but he declined, as he 
 was averse to controversy. Brother Brewer has done 
 a world of good carrying sunshine into the hearts of 
 the people in their homes. 
 
 George B. Eager is another ''Gentleman George" 
 who still lives of whom I must say a word. He is a 
 native of Mississippi, but has figured much in Ala- 
 bama. Here in Montgomery, I began to know him 
 best, when he was pastor of the First Church and 
 the President of the Mission Board. That was the 
 day when every fellow was fighting liquor "over 
 against his own house." We had no organization at 
 all. As pastor of the First Church, he gave some time 
 to the discussion of questions of the day. More Leg- 
 islators, on that account, attended his church than 
 any other in the city. He went before the committees 
 and sought to influence legislation. A Senator, a bully, 
 attempted to bulldoze the frail preacher at the Cap- 
 itol, but to his utter surprise, the preacher defied him 
 and the Senator quailed. As President of the Mission 
 Board, he was true and always aggressive, ever ready 
 to help with pen or voice when he could. 
 
 I was asked what I thought of him as a suitable man 
 for a chair in the Seminary. My reply was 'T am 
 no judge of scholarship, but I feel sure he is capable 
 and I know him to be a perfect Gentleman, the sort 
 of man for young preachers to come in contact with." 
 
 J, M. Fortune was pastor of numbers of good coun- 
 try churches in Dallas and Lowndes. Brother B. H. 
 Crumpton was largely responsible for his entering the 
 ministry, and as teacher and sympathetic friend, he en- 
 couraged and helped him much. He became a farmer- 
 preacher, who served the kingdom largely at his own 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 265 
 
 expense. He was ambitious to own a farm, which 
 he finally did — and more than a farm — a plantation, 
 which stood in the way of his largest usefulness. I 
 do not call to mind his family except one daughter, 
 who was a very fine, good woman. 
 
 J. J. D. Refroe was a loyal son of Alabama and 
 gloried in it. He was born in very humble circum- 
 stances ; I think he told me six weeks, would cover 
 the period of his school days. But he had a great mind 
 and a heart that could be stirred and ambition that 
 could be aroused. In spite of his slim chances he per- 
 severed and became one of Alabama's greatest preach- 
 ers. He had mastered Alexander Carson's works and 
 was able to cope with the most wily foe that might at- 
 tack the doctrine of the Baptists. In those days, there 
 were plenty of men who loved controversy and were 
 hunting for a fighter. Renfroe sought no controversy, 
 but he was perfectly at home on controverted ques- 
 tions. J. R. Graves was one of the most noted con- 
 troversialists among the Baptists. He came to be 
 known as the great leader among what was called 
 the Land-Mark Baptists, indeed, I believe he invented 
 the name. Renfroe, for the most of his life, was an in- 
 tense Graves adherent, but in his later years, he soften- 
 ed much and really opposed the most extreme views of 
 Graves. He was a strong doctrinal preacher, toward 
 the end of his days, he said to me : "I believe in 
 sprinkling. I sprinkle the doctrines all through my 
 sermons." This he found to accomplish more than 
 set sermons on announced subjects, and I am sure that 
 is the better way. 
 
 Most colleges have sad stories of struggles with 
 poverty, to recite. How eagerly they seize onto all 
 sorts of schemes to better their condition financially ! 
 The history of Howard's schemes would make a book. 
 It's worst was in 1876, the Centennial year, observ- 
 ed by the Baptism of the nation. The plan was to se- 
 
266 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 cure one dollar from every Baptist in the 
 State. Renfroe was made the agent. He had 
 raised money for church buildings and the like, 
 but this was his first experience with a general prop- 
 osition. At that time we had about 90,000 Baptists 
 in the State. It was the easiest thing in the world 
 to figure out an endowment. Some, of course, 
 would not give the dollar, but very many would give 
 by the hundreds, and this would far more than make 
 up the deficiencies. 
 
 Doctor Renfroe came to my old country field. 
 Think of starting out on a mission like this on horse- 
 back ! That is just what we did, I rigged up two sad- 
 dle horses and away we rode. At one of my churches 
 we did fairly well. At another I expected to get at 
 least five hundred dollars from one man. Renfroe 
 was at his best. I never heard a better address. The 
 strong points of the Revolutionary Fathers were 
 brought out and stirred the patriotism of every man. 
 Then our religious fervor was aroused, when the 
 part the Baptists took in the struggle for religious 
 liberty was shown. My, how our hearts swelled 
 within us ! When the preacher reached the practical 
 point, that the Baptists everywhere, north and south, 
 were celebrating this Centennial year by each member 
 giving one dollar for the endowment of our colleges, 
 I felt like we would all give and give until it hurt. 
 I was proud of what my old church was going to do 
 under the inspiration of this great address. Of course, 
 he was careful to make it plain that some were ex- 
 pected to give larger sums than one dollar. 
 
 My rich man was the first to respond. He eulo- 
 gized the speaker and said he was proud to be an 
 American, especially proud that he was a Baptist, and 
 thanked God for putting it into the hearts of our 
 leaders to inaugurate this movement, which was des- 
 tined to richly endow all of our colleges and put them 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 267 
 
 beyond want. He closed with this : "Brother Pastor, 
 I have a wife and seven children and three grand- 
 children — these are not all meml)ers of the church — 
 but I am going to give one dollar for each of them 
 just the same ; put me down for twelve dollars." Poor 
 Renfroe, and poor pastor ! We were whipped. We 
 were almost speechless. 
 
 A few experiences like this opened our eyes to the 
 fact that we had embarked upon a most foolish un- 
 dertaking. Its narrowness was the ruin of it. A pair 
 of lunatics in any asylum, ought to have known better ; 
 yet, the thing originated North, where it was sup- 
 poed the financial brains of the denomination were to 
 be found. 
 
 The Agent didn't collect his salary and traveling 
 expenses. Of course he was disappointed, but no 
 other man could have done any better. He never re- 
 covered from it, and died at last, almost broken-heart- 
 ed over the college. 
 
 Nobody wielded a more vigorous pen. The charm 
 of it was, he wrote like plain, common-sense people 
 talk, and they loved to read after him. On this ac- 
 count, Major John G. Harris brought him to Mont- 
 gomery to edit The Alabama Baptist. Renfroe had 
 been rather ambitious for a place where he could 
 write, and the offer was accepted because he believed 
 the work would be congenial and entertaining. 
 
 After a few issues of the paper, however, the South 
 Side Church in Birmingham called him as pastor, and 
 he went there. 
 
 He was heartily in sympathy with the movement to 
 locate Howard College in Birmingham. Nothing but 
 the noblest patriotism to North Alabama and loyalty 
 to the best interests of the denomination animated 
 him. When it looked like Birmingham was going 
 back on her promises, he was sick at heart. Doctor 
 B. F. Riley, in his History of the Baptists of Ala- 
 
268 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 bama, says on page 421, of an effort to rally the Bap- 
 tists of Birmingham, at the First Church: "Doctor 
 Renfroe was present at the meeting. It was his last 
 appearance before the public. Enfeebled by disease, 
 he arose to speak, and began by appealing to the honor 
 of the people, but he soon reeled and had to be taken 
 from the platform." His last public utterance was 
 made in behalf of the institution which he had loved 
 and cordially supported even unto death. Thus died 
 a brave leader, who loved the college, though he per- 
 sonally knew nothing of college training. Disap- 
 pointed then, could he look down now and see our 
 great college ! Ah, he knows of it. On the campus 
 they have erected his memorial: RENFROE HALL, 
 which is far better than a cold marble shaft in a 
 neglected cemetery. 
 
 At Talladega,, a charming little city in a fertile 
 valley, Renfroe did his best work and spent his hap- 
 piest days. 
 
 CHAPTER 4. 
 
 A. P. Montague. He found Howard College in the 
 dust and lifted it out. They called him a gusher, but 
 the people needed one of his sort, just then and they 
 rallied to him. 
 
 I can write nothing better of him and his noble 
 wife than is found in these words in an address at the 
 presentation of Montague Hall : 
 
 *T believe a better day has dawned upon our col- 
 lege now. We are not out of the woods yet, but w^e 
 seem to see the light in the clearing. God gave us a 
 great man in Doctor Montague, a man with a vision, 
 a man of great enthusiasm and one who has the 
 power to impart his enthusiasm to others." 
 
 "He saw at once we needed a dormitory. He heard 
 the complaint from South Alabama that the Birming- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 269 
 
 ham district had never carried out its promise. He 
 determined that Birmingham should have the op- 
 portunity to wipe out that reproach. He appealed 
 to them to give the money to erect that splendid 
 structure, Renfroe Hall, at a cost of nearly $20,000. 
 He literally walked that money down in this district, 
 tramping the streets of Birmingham and the sur- 
 rounding towns, and came near walking himself into 
 his grave. For six long weeks he lay helpless in the 
 Davis Infirmary, but he succeeded, and there stands 
 his monument, if he never has another. 
 
 "Then he conceived the idea of erecting this beau- 
 tiful library building, which I have the privilege of 
 presenting this day. In an incredibly short time, the 
 money was secured and the building completed. I have 
 never known anything so quickly and easily done. 
 
 "With a courage and enthusiasm I have never seen 
 equaled, he threw himself into the effort to raise 
 $75,000 in bonds for the endowment. He had until 
 the last day of next December in which to complete 
 it, but by the first of May, seven months ahead of 
 time, it was practically accomplished. 
 
 *Tn all this heroic work, a Httle woman who gave 
 her heart to him in old Virginia, years ago, was his 
 inspiration. She it was, who cheered him when he 
 was inclined to be discouraged. She saw Renfroe 
 Hall completed and occupied. She saw this building 
 completed, and she rejoiced with him when the 
 grander work of securing the bonds was completed. 
 What more fitting tribute to her worth than that this 
 building should be her memorial : W^e would thus per- 
 petuate in enduring form the memory of one of the 
 loveliest characters that ever lived in Alabama." 
 
 William A. Parker, was the son of a preacher, Wm. 
 Jacob Parker. He had a bright mind and very good 
 opportunities for an education, though I think he did 
 
270 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 not attend College. He was a strong- preacher, serv- 
 ing the best churches in reach of him in Clark and 
 Marengo counties. His genial disposition made him 
 quite popular with all classes. Having a large family 
 he was compelled to engage in secular employments 
 which hindered his greatest usefulness. He had a 
 brother, George, who was a preacher and several of 
 his sons entered the ministry. Nothing pleased Par- 
 ker more than to have the Secretary, or any of the 
 preachers to visit his home and go miles away in his 
 conveyance to his appointments. Some years before 
 his death he moved to Texas where his preaching ca- 
 reer closed. 
 
 W. F. Yarborough must have mention in these 
 Memories, though he still lives and is now in the prime 
 of his life. In 1915 when I was made Secretary Eme- 
 ritus by the Convention, the Executive Board called 
 him from one of the finest pastorates in the State to 
 become Corresponding Secretary. 
 
 A better choice could not have been made. It was 
 a call from a comparative easy place to one of the most 
 laborious, self-denying in the State. No one knows 
 how dear his home ties are, until he assumes a posi- 
 tion that calls him from his home and dear ones. Just 
 how laborious and exacting are the duties, none but 
 the initiated know. After four years of arduous labor 
 he goes back to his native State of Mississippi to take 
 up the loved work of the pastorate in one of the best 
 churches in the State. I can bear witness to his faith- 
 fulness and industry. 
 
 When he came to the Secretary's office the whole 
 policy was changed by the Convention, by consolidat- 
 ing the work. Thus it was made more difficult and 
 complex. But the Secretary measured well up to the 
 responsibilities of the new order. The 75 million cam- 
 paign, he managed with consumate skill and bore the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 271 
 
 multiplied and perplexing burdens of mind and body 
 in a most satisfactory way. The Lord certainly mar- 
 velously sustained him and enabled him to score a 
 great victory. Alabama Baptists will never cease to 
 love him for the service he rendered at a critical pe- 
 riod in their history. 
 
 His good wife deserves grateful mention, for with- 
 out her uncomplaining devotion, her husband could not 
 have done the work. A noble woman, religiously rear- 
 ed she was well fitted to the task of staying by the stufif 
 while the head of the family gave himself unremitting- 
 ly to the word into which he had been thrust. 
 
 J. H. Curry. When I first knew him, he had been 
 pastor at North Port and at other prominent points 
 in West Alabama. He was a handsome fellow, a good 
 preacher, a wise leader with a cheerful spirit, who 
 easily won his way into the hearts of his people. The 
 Lord didn't give him a preacher son, but a lawyer- 
 son, M. B. Curry, has consecrated his business sense 
 and influence to religious work in his church and As- 
 sociation. He has been Moderator of his Association 
 for years ; also a valuable member of the Mission 
 Board, besides he had served well his county in the 
 Legislature, standing four square on every moral 
 question. 
 
 Doctor D. O. Baird, in the same territory with Bro- 
 ther Curry. I went to his Association, and Secretary 
 like — inquired about the appointee for the Mission- 
 ary Sermon, wishing it might in some way fall to my 
 lot to preach it. I was well pleased when I found 
 Brother Baird was to do the job, I had heard much 
 about him, and I wanted to hear him. I was disap- 
 pointed when he read Ezekiel's vision of the valley of 
 dry bones, and announced his text : "Son of man, can 
 these bones live?" I resigned myself to the idea, 
 I'd have a dry old time, listening to a sermon on the 
 
272 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 fulfillment of prophesy, which the preacher knew noth- 
 ing about. He hadn't spoken half a dozen sentences, 
 before I saw he had selected one of the finest texts 
 in the Book for a Missionary Sermon, and that a mas- 
 ter had hold of the subject. He painted before us the 
 hopeless condition of Israel. By reason of sin, they 
 had dried up, and were on the valley of dry bones. I 
 am writing this on May 1, 1920. I will ask the reader 
 to turn to Ezekiel 36 and 37 chapters and read. Then 
 think about it : To-day, Jerusalem and all Palestine is 
 in the hands of the British — a Christian nation. The 
 "unspeakable" Turk, who has trodden the sacred soil 
 under foot for centuries, has been put out. Doesn't 
 it look like God is getting ready to resurrect the Dry 
 Bones and re-establish the people on their own land? 
 
 But our Brother Baird wasn't preaching about that. 
 I am only calling attention to the striking fact and 
 point to the remarkable prophesy in those chapters. 
 
 Who knows but a literal fulfillment is about to oc- 
 cur? 
 
 The preacher was calling attention to the prom- 
 ise that through the preaching of God's word, nations 
 should be saved, though it seemed as impossible as 
 the resurrection of the dry bones. While he was 
 speaking, I called to my mind what I had heard about 
 the preacher. 
 
 There was a time when he himself, was a very dry 
 bone — the power of drink had mastered him. Neigh- 
 bors shook their heads and agreed that it was impos- 
 sible to save Dr. Baird, the beloved physician, from 
 the habit of drink. 
 
 The poor heart-broken wife maybe cried: "Oh 
 God, can this dry bone live?" In answer to prayer, in 
 fulfillment of His promises — there was the man, once 
 demon-possessed, "clothed and in his right mind," 
 standing before a great audience of people who knew 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 273 
 
 him well ; telling them of the great power of God to 
 save to the uttermost. It was no harder for God to 
 resurrect the dry bones of the valley than to save 
 this one man. 
 
 How my heart has reveled through the years, over 
 the grand truths which came to me that day! Doc- 
 tor Baird has been in heaven for some years, magni- 
 fying that amazing grace which makes alive the dry 
 bones which sin has made. 
 
 One cannot write of Pickens County without 
 thinking of Uncle Billy Robertson, long time Mode- 
 rator of the Union Association and for fifty-four years, 
 Superintendent of his Sunday School. At the Court 
 House he holds some responsible office, which his con- 
 stituents will ask him to keep until the pen drops from 
 his hand. Past 80, he is still active and faithful. The 
 Lord be praised for a life like that ! W. T. Robertson's 
 memory will endure forever. 
 
 This is the Association, greatly honored in Alabama 
 Baptist history. Grant's Creek Church for long, was a 
 leading church in the Association. Two notable State 
 Conventions were held there, five years apart. In my 
 address on : "Howard College Fifty Years Ago," I 
 speak of these two Conventions. 
 
 Another event of great interest was the going out 
 from this church, as the first woman missionary from 
 the South, Miss Martha Foster, Mrs. Crawford. The 
 Fosters were a noted family then, as they are today. I 
 got it from somewhere, that Deacon John Foster was 
 heard to pray God, to open the doors into foreign lands 
 and to put it into the hearts of his servants to go to 
 the foreign field. His beautiful daughter, just home, 
 after finishing her school course, told her father of 
 her desire to go as a missionary and asked his consent 
 to offer herself to the Foreign Board. The father 
 broke down and wept, whereupon the daughter told 
 
274 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 him of his prayers and expressed surprise. The fa- 
 ther repHed : "I was honest in that prayer, but I never 
 dreamed that He would call my own precious child 
 the very first woman to go." Whether this is literally 
 true or not, I doubt not, thoughts of this kind were in 
 the minds of both father and daughter. 
 
 R. A. J. Cumbie was a brother beloved. No 
 braver soldier entered the Confederate Army. 
 Though an officer, in every camp, he held 
 meetings, which often resulted in great revivals. I 
 have seen a picture of a baptismal scene, with enemies 
 bullets dropping into the water, where he was the ad- 
 ministrator — it was just before a battle ; he and the 
 candidate responding to the bugle call, went into line 
 of battle in their wet clothes. The comradeship of of- 
 ficers and men, had no finer illustration than that. He 
 was a people's man, a born evangelist. He had a ten- 
 der heart, but he was as brave as a lion. Full of hu- 
 mor, he could beat anybody telling an anecdote. It 
 is little wonder that he went into politics and became 
 Probate Judge of Tallapoosa County. The campaign 
 was one of the livest ever known in the County. It 
 was like going to a circus, the boys said, when com- 
 ing from a speaking. I do not remember the appli- 
 cation, but one anecdote was rich : A blacksmith kept 
 his account written with charcoal on the nice, white 
 floor under his wife's bed. While he was away, his 
 wife scoured the floor. When he returned and found 
 what she had done, he said: "Wife you have scoured 
 out my accounts, I am ruined." Of course the wife 
 was much troubled, but asked if he couldn't remember 
 the accounts well enough to rewrite them. He adopt- 
 ed her suggestion, got a piece of charcoal and crawl- 
 ed under the bed ; after a time he emerged with a 
 pleased look on his face and informed his wife, he had 
 it now on lots better men than the original. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 275 
 
 He was pastor at Alexander City and a number of 
 important places. His churches always flourished and 
 he lined them up with the best missionary churches 
 of the State. God spared him to be 80 years old. To 
 the day of his death he loved the visits of his breth- 
 ren and talked freely of his departure. A faithful wife 
 and devoted friends ministered to him beautifully in 
 his last illness. 
 
 CHAPTER 5. 
 
 John R. Caldwell, a preacher and a saw-mill man. 
 When the fight was on for the amendment to the State 
 Constitution, he said to me : "Brother Crumpton, I 
 will be glad to help in the campaign if there is any- 
 thing I can do." Asked what he could do, he replied: 
 "Let me give you a story I could tell. 
 
 My father was the son of a wealthy planter, a grad- 
 uate of the College in Athens, Ga. My mother was a re- 
 fined, educated woman, a graduate of Eatonton. They 
 began life with plenty about them. My father took to 
 drink, soon after they married and things went from 
 bad to worse from that time. He would sober up, then 
 go off again as bad as ever. One year, when the crop 
 was planted and everything looked good, the Sheriff 
 came and took eleven negro men out of the yard, to 
 pay his drink bills. Next day, my father went to town, 
 sold nine of the men, and paid off all executions. But 
 he got drunk and sold Sam, one of the two remaining, 
 to pay a liquor bill and sent George the only man left, 
 home ; but father remained. I remember when 
 the Sheriff came and took down the old family clock 
 and how mother cried. Liquor had brought poverty 
 and ruin into our home. Do you remember the little 
 tract you circulated: "If I were a Fiend?" If you'd 
 had my mother's life before you, you could not have 
 told it better. You would think a bov raised in cir- 
 
276 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 cumstances like that, would never take after his fa- 
 ther, but I did — fact is, I was worse than my father, for 
 I added fighting to my drinking. There are not many 
 square inches on my body which are not scarred with 
 knife wounds, received in drunken brawls. But broth- 
 er, it pleased the dear Lord to reach down His strong 
 arm and "snatch me as a brand from the burning. He 
 put a new song into my mouth, even praises to my 
 God." He has blessed my poor Hfe, far better than I 
 could have expected. What would I have been but 
 for His constraining grace. He has blessed my min- 
 istry and with these hands I have baptized two thous- 
 and converts." He told me too that his father was fin- 
 ally converted and the last ten years of his life were 
 happy Christ-serving years. 
 
 This was the story this old hero could tell 
 and wherever told the people beHeved it. No 
 man could treat it lightly. The argument of 
 a man's life and a family life, could not be 
 answered. Men had only to look around them and 
 see the ruin of rum, then look at him and see what 
 God's grace and prohibition had done. The liquor 
 people had no argument, not one. The home was 
 against them, pure women and innocent children were 
 against them, Christianity was against them, even 
 dram-drinkers, by the thousands, were against them. In 
 every man's bosom God had put a conscience, where 
 it was not dead, it was against them — most of all, 
 God was against them. They couldn't appeal to com- 
 mon sense, patriotism or religion. Prejudice, appetite 
 and falsehood were the trinity they worshipped. 
 
 Brother Caldwell now past 80, preaches when his 
 strength will allow and the people hear him gladly. 
 
 I. T. Tichenor, a native of Tennessee, was one of the 
 great men who figured in Alabama in my early minis- 
 try. He was for a time President of the State Col- 
 lege at Auburn, later as Secretary of the Home Mis- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 211 
 
 sion Board. In his early ministry he was pastor of the 
 First church, Montgomery. He was every inch a great 
 man, in heart, brain, in spirit. I came to regard 
 him as the greatest orator I ever heard. At the South- 
 ern Baptist and the Alabama Conventions, he thrilled 
 his audiences with his always optimistic speeches. He 
 was a seer, the great things coming to this country, 
 its prosperity and glory, and the marvelous advance 
 of the Baptists, he clearly foresaw and pictured them 
 in glorious colors. Could a passage of his speech be- 
 fore the Convention at Atlanta be reproduced and pub- 
 lished, it would be prized as an oratorical gem. He 
 pictured an iceberg, breaking loose from its icy fast- 
 nesses in the far North and drifting Southward in its 
 grandeur, endangering shipping on its journey, until 
 the tropical sunshine and warming currents, gradual- 
 ly melted away its jagged sides and brought down its 
 towering peaks and mingled them with the waters of 
 the Southern Seas. I wonder sometimes if the like of 
 Tichenor, will ever be seen again. 
 
 L. O. Dawson. I must leave a word about a few 
 men who are living, though for most part, those re- 
 corded here, have entered into rest. 
 
 In the thirty yeras Dawson has been pastor 
 in Tuscaloosa, he has seen every pulpit in Alabama 
 emptied, some of them a dozen times. From every 
 corner of the South, he has had invitations to become 
 pastor at important points, but he has held steadily 
 to his job at Tuscaloosa, and it now looks as if he will 
 finish his course there ; but I am beginning this story 
 at the wrong end. I know L. O's folks. He comes of 
 royal blood — not foreign, but the best America has. 
 The best education a boy can have is from the farm, 
 this he had at an early age, after the death of his fa- 
 ther, which occurred shortly after the Civil War, when 
 all the white boys had to go to work. I venture, not 
 one went at it more cheerfully than he did. When I 
 
278 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 moved to Marion in 1885, as Secretary of the Board, I 
 found in Howard College, two bright faced preacher 
 boys — L. O. Dawson and John McCoUum, they were 
 inseparable chums. They seemed to take a liking to 
 me, and their feeling was reciprocated. They were in 
 love with as fine girls as could be found in the State, 
 and I egged them on, for I believe in young people 
 marrying, where the mating seems suitable. Dawson, 
 after finishing in the Seminary, tarried in Kentucky 
 for four years as pastor of a grand country church, 
 then came to Tuscaloosa, and there he has stuck for 
 more than a quarter of a century. Is it the land, or the 
 man, that makes the union so long? In making the es- 
 timate, the disposition, the preparation and religion 
 of the preacher and the qualities of the wife must 
 enter in. This all being A-1, the church shows itself 
 first class in every particular in keeping him so long. 
 "If any of you members love to change preachers, Vd 
 advise you to get your letters for I have come to stay." 
 That was the audacious remark in his first sermon. 
 After that, how could anybody ever think of a change ? 
 The result is, he is the pastor of the whole town, and of 
 the Association. He is in every movement, even dirty 
 politics gets attention from him in a clean way. The 
 preacher, who never sticks, the churches, that are al- 
 ways changing pastors, the associations and towns and 
 preachers that can't get to liking one another, can all 
 study Dawson and his church with profit. 
 
 The army of young people who have felt the touch 
 of his life, will through the ages bless God for the 
 influence of this man of God upon their lives. 
 
 How easy he made it for a Secretary in his church 
 and Association ! Cheerful and happy in all his work, 
 how could he fail? In a letter to the writer, he said: 
 "My life has just been one long happy day's work." Ah 
 Brother ! the Lord knows it, but I'll tell him too, what 
 you and your good wife have been to me, as I toiled 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 279 
 
 in his service and you shall some day hear him say: 
 "In as much." 
 
 D. I. Purser: Came from Mississippi to Birming- 
 ham to hold a meeting, his yonger brother, John, 
 leading the singing. The meeting proving successful, 
 he was invited to Tuscaloosa. Besides a great meet- 
 ing, in which souls were saved, the preacher lost his 
 own heart, and later married one of the finest women 
 of the town, Miss Sallie Moody. Later, he became 
 pastor of the First Church of Birmingham, and was 
 mixed up with all the progressive affairs of the 
 fast growing city. Besides a preacher, he was called 
 a booster, a promoter, a plunger. I hardly know the 
 meaning of all these terms, but I guess he was all 
 that they mean. When Birmingham cast her covet- 
 ous eyes on Howard College at Marion, Purser be- 
 came the leader, and in a Httle while the thing was 
 accomplished. 
 
 We are making much of preacher's summer schools. 
 Let it be remembered that Purser first introduced 
 them at Howard College. 
 
 To his credit too, the saving of the College after the 
 removal, is largely due. 
 
 So I write Purser down as a remarkable man. His 
 career was ended in New Orleans, where he was a vic- 
 tim of Yellow Fever. His wife still survives, and his 
 two sons give promise of great usefulness in the min- 
 istry. 
 
 Five Presidents of the Judsom Whom I Knew. 
 
 L. R. Gwaltney, a Virginian, came to the Jud- 
 son, from Rome, Georgia. He was the first 
 of the Presidents with whom I became intimately ac- 
 quainted. He was an elegant gentleman and a fine 
 preacher. I found out later that he was an unafraid 
 prohibitionist, by the great speech he made at the Troy 
 Convention and the fine report he read on the sub- 
 ject the year following. Luther Rice was his name, 
 
280 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 so, he could not keep from being a great missionary. 
 
 Robert Frazier was President when I moved to Ma- 
 rion as the Secretary. He was a Virginian, an accom- 
 plished gentleman and scholar, an experienced educa- 
 tor. He had been a United States Consul at some 
 city in Italy. He was a devout Christian. Having no 
 children of their own, he and his wife, became father 
 and mother to the girls, who loved them devotedly. 
 After five years, because of failing health, he resigned 
 and returned to his Virginia home, where he died only 
 a year or so ago. His death was a distinct loss to his 
 denomination, especially to the Baptists of his home 
 State. 
 
 Samuel W. Averitt. I became very intimate with 
 him. For ten years I was a citizen of Marion and a 
 Trustee of the Judson. Dr. Averitt was a grad- 
 uate of the U. S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Md., 
 an officer in the Navy, until his State seceded from 
 the Union. He then cast his lot with the Confeder- 
 acy in the naval service. He was second in command 
 of the steamship Florida, one of the noted sea rovers 
 of the Confederate Navy. His story of how he took 
 her out of Mobile harbor, a dark, rainy night, right 
 by the blockading vessels of the U. S., was most thrill- 
 ing. He was so modest, he seldom spoke of his ex- 
 periences in the perilous days. He could have left a 
 record of adventure and daring deeds, which would 
 have classed high in reading that thrills. 
 
 When he laid aside the habiliments of war, he 
 sought the quiet fields of student fife and became a 
 great teacher of girls. He and his queenly wife, left an 
 enduring impression with all the girls who were fortu- 
 nate enough to be under them. Dr. Averitt had in 
 mind great plans for the Judson, but was stricken be- 
 fore their accomplishment. No finer specimen of a 
 man ever lived than Sam Averitt. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 281 
 
 Robert G. Patrick became the pastor of Siloam 
 church and for two years made his home in the Jud- 
 son. Thus he became thoroughly imbued with the 
 plans of the President. He learned the inside work- 
 ing of the school and in the summer made some trips 
 in its interest. When the beloved President died, the 
 Trustees found in Patrick a worthy successor. Though 
 young, to assume such a responsiblity, he soon ad- 
 justed himself to the new situation and the school had 
 under him a marvelous prosperity. 
 
 Patrick was born with fun in his laughing eyes and 
 beaming, happy face. Boiling over with humor all the 
 time, it was often hard for him to be serious. There 
 were no dull times when he was about. He is the 
 last man one would have picked to die early, with 
 something like melancholia. Gradually it made its 
 stealty appearance, his friends were loath to believe it, 
 but in a few years it brought him to an untimely 
 grave. 
 
 How beautifully God's plans dove-tail into each oth- 
 er: Gwaltney, Frazier and Averitt, all Virginians, 
 maybe there lives inter-locked somewhere, each in- 
 fluencing the other ; then Averitt training Patrick a 
 South Carolinian; Patrick was followed in the pasto- 
 rate of old Siloam by 
 
 Paul V. Bomar his friend and fellow-student from 
 South Carolina. Preaching to the students and teach- 
 ing a few hours in the Judson each day, he becomes fa- 
 miliar with all the workings of the great school, the 
 hearts of the pupils and their parents entwine them- 
 selves around him and makes ready, God's man for the 
 Presidency, when made vacant by the tragic ending of 
 the Patrick Presidency. Who that studies the history 
 of the school from its beginning, can not see the hand 
 of God guiding its afifairs ? Right now it is in its great- 
 est prosperity. The denomination is going to endow it 
 
282 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 and give it new buildings, to accommodate the gene- 
 rations of girls coming on. 
 
 The blessed old school ! How it has blessed the world 
 in educating great women in all the South ! 
 
 The Ann Hasaltine Missionary Society of the Jud- 
 son. Named for the greatest Baptist woman that ever 
 lived, influenced girls in the missionary work; 
 some became missonaries ; others carried to their 
 homes and into their church life, an interest in mis- 
 sions, which has helped them to hold the ropes while 
 others went down into the mission mines to give their 
 lives in rescuing the perishing. 
 
 CHAPTER 6. 
 
 S. O. Y. Ray. "Soy," the boys called him, a country 
 boy, reared on the farm. 
 
 Not a thing, from dropping corn to splitting rails, 
 that he did not learn to do. The result w^as that he 
 became a successful farmer. By his own labor, he be- 
 came possessed of a four hundred acre farm and it was 
 one of the best in the country. 
 
 His opportunities for education were not the best, 
 but he was an apt student, taking in, not only what 
 he found in the school books, but what he saw and 
 heard. He knew nothing of Sunday Schools, for his 
 parents were Hardshells and he was reared to believe 
 that Sunday Schools, lodges, temperance and mission 
 organizations of every sort, were of the earth, earthy: 
 What he learned about the Bible, he dug out after he 
 became a grown man and felt called to the ministry. 
 Baptized by a Hardshell and hearing only their preach- 
 ing, he was equal to the best of them in presenting the 
 "hard doctrines" for which they were noted. 
 
 Having a good voice, he used it to its full capacity, 
 we may well imagine, in those days when length and 
 loudness decided the goodness of the sermon. Genial 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 283 
 
 and a good story teller, he was popular in every 
 crowd. 
 
 When the State Mission Board of Alabama was or- 
 ganized, its first work was to district the State 
 and send out strong men to preach and organize the 
 Baptist forces. Missions, Sunday Schools and Minis- 
 terial Education were the great themes they were to 
 put emphasis upon. These District Evangelists were to 
 answer objections, and, take collections and pledges 
 everywhere. One of these men was to cross the path of 
 Brother Ray; his name was Peter Kirvin in the dis- 
 trict composed of Marengo, Clark, Choctaw and Wash- 
 ington Counties. 
 
 He was a strong preacher and a genial fellow out of 
 the pulpit. When the great gatherings met at the 
 Associations, Peter Kirvin was one man who was sure 
 to be put forward. Ray attended the Associations and 
 Peter Kirvin tore all his theology to pieces and knock- 
 ed all his anti-mission notions out of his head. So 
 marvelous was the change, when he was converted to 
 missionary notions, like Paul, he was soon advocating 
 "publicly and from house to house the things he once 
 endeavored to destroy." His development was so 
 rapid, he was selected by the Board, a few years later, 
 to take his place, when Peter Kirvin moved West. 
 
 Ray's ministerial education came solely from the 
 study of the Bible with few helps and attending As- 
 sociations. Now and then, a good book fell into his 
 hands and he eagerly devoured its contents. I have 
 often heard him urging the preachers to attend the As- 
 sociations for the good they would get out of them. 
 
 From his call to the ministry, God, whose call he 
 answered, had him in school preparing him for the 
 greater work he was to do later on. His Hardshell ex- 
 periences were no disadvantage to him. He learned 
 the deep things of God as he never could have learned 
 
284 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 them in the schools. He learned the power of preju- 
 dice and how to deal with it. 
 
 His farmer-preacher experience, was no handicap 
 either, although for years it kept him tied down to 
 business to the neglect of his calling. With a good liv- 
 ing assured from his farm, of course he could not ex- 
 pect anything from his churches, even after he got into 
 line with the missionary Baptists. I doubt, if in those 
 days, he ever said a word in his preaching about the la- 
 borer being worthy of his hire. His real usefulness be- 
 gan when he turned his back upon the farm and began 
 to give himself wholly to the work of the ministry. 
 
 How much a good wife had to do with all his suc- 
 cesses, we can never know ; but some of us feel that the 
 wives of preachers who "stay by the stuff," while their 
 husbands are away preaching, may some day, wear 
 brighter crowns than their husbands. 
 
 His agency work probably was his most success- 
 ful work, though he did well in the pastorate too. "A 
 money getter" is often the most dread man in the de- 
 nomination, but it was not so with Ray. The people 
 were always glad to see him, whether they gave or not. 
 It was a common thing for the people to say: "Ray 
 can get money where there is none." Because of his 
 success in this line he was engaged, at different times, 
 for almost everything until he was generally called 
 "The pack-horse of the denomination." Now that he 
 is gonci he richly deserves a monument in the shape 
 of some building for some useful purpose, on some of 
 our college grounds. 
 
 Perhaps the best work he did was in church building. 
 The writer wished him turned loose in the State to 
 follow the lines of the new railroads and secure the 
 erection of houses of worship in the new towns. In 
 many a place, where the Baptists were numerous, but 
 unorganized, he has dropped in, called the people to- 
 gether at the school house for a night service, and 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 285 
 
 before they dismissed, had raised a good subscription 
 and appointed a committee to secure a lot and pro- 
 ceed with the erection of a building. He had a good 
 idea of church architecture and could submit plans 
 for a commodious up-to-date building. There is no 
 more needful work than this and Ray was fitted by 
 nature and experience to lead in it. There are many 
 towns now in Alabama, which are only waiting for that 
 sort of man to lead them. The Baptists of the State 
 lost a great, opportunity, when their board refused to 
 continue him in the work for which he was so well 
 fitted. 
 
 Ray was tried in more ways than any other and for 
 a longer time ; he was never found wanting anywhere. 
 These lines poorly express my feelings for him and 
 my appreciation for his great service. 
 
 It may be, some sweet day, we will sit down toge- 
 ther in the Home of the Blest and talk it all over, as 
 we have never had the time to do here. 
 
 M. B. Wharton was a Virginian, a graduate of Rich- 
 mond College and of the Seminary. He had been pas- 
 tor of numbers of the best churches in the South. 
 Where I knew him best, he was pastor of the first 
 church, Montgomery. He had traveled much, once 
 U. S. Consul at some point in Germany. He was the 
 author of a book of travels and another: "Famous 
 Women of the Bible." He was much in demand as a 
 lecturer. "Some men can make books but cannot 
 sell them. I can both make and sell them," he re- 
 marked. He was a brilliant man, a ready and enter- 
 taining speaker. 
 
 In the controversy that arose about the removal of 
 the Howard, he was much criticised. He it 
 was who moved the Previous Question, which 
 cut ofif debate and brought the house to a 
 vote. This resulted in its removal. After the 
 vote was taken, most of the Birmingham dele- 
 
286 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 gation boarded the first train and left; all of which 
 looked like a cut and dried programme in which Whar- 
 ton figured by agreement. The Marion people and 
 their sympathizers remembered this against him and 
 he felt it keenly, for many of his own church were 
 much opposed to removal. When the Judson burned 
 and they were casting about for a location, should 
 it be determined to remove it, some one suggested to 
 Wharton that an effort be made to secure Hamner 
 Hall Park in Montgomery for the place. To which 
 he replied : *T have had enough of removing Colleges." 
 
 R. H. Pratt at Six Mile in Bibb County, estabhshed 
 a school, all his own, which deserves mention. My ad- 
 miration for boys who were born in obscurity and 
 struggled with poverty and hard labor and finally were 
 victors, knows no bounds. Such a boy was R. H. 
 Pratt. He finally graduated at the University of Ala- 
 bama, just before the Civil War. The first I knew of 
 him, he had a large body of young people under him 
 at Six Mile Academy. He had a great wife who for 
 twenty-five years taught with him. As principal of 
 the Academy and Superintendent of the Sunday 
 School, he wielded a wholesome influence which bless- 
 ed the homes of Bibb County, yes, and the world for 
 he had the training of a list of preachers, of whom the 
 denomination is proud. At 67 he retired from the 
 school and became Superintendent of Education for 
 his County. 
 
 Here are the names of some of the preachers who 
 received instruction under him: A. E. Burns, deceased; 
 J. M. Thomas, for years pastor of Talladega; A. J. 
 Hobson, 19 years pastor of 1st Church, Jacksonville, 
 Fla. ; M. E. Weaver, in Louisiana; F. H. Harrington, 
 now Missionary of Birmingham Association ; D. Z. 
 Woolley, pastor of Wilsonville ; Joe Wells, in Florida; 
 Isaac Langston in Texas ; J. H. Longcrier, doing en- 
 listment work in Alabama ; Ross Arnold, pastor at 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 287 
 
 Greenville; George Freeman, and Sutton Smitherman, 
 Bibb County. 
 
 J. M. McCord, born in South Carolina. H^e had good 
 educational training at Wetumpka and Howard Col- 
 lege. While teaching in Six IMile Academy, Prof. Pratt 
 made a great contribution to the cause, by giving his 
 daughter, Florence, who had been teaching music 
 with him for ten years, to McCord for a wife. She 
 proved a real help-mate and a great mother to his 
 children. One of their sons. Dr. Cary Pratt McCord, 
 after graduating at the Howard and the University of 
 Michigan, went into research work ; during the war in 
 France was made a Major and is now in the University 
 of Cincinnati. McCord was a pure, gentlemanly man. 
 He served many churches in the State. When 
 I say "served," I mean what the word implies. He 
 was one of the most faithful pastors, I ever knew. 
 He went into the homes of his people and this put him 
 in their hearts. He "lived of the Gospel" — without re- 
 sorting to secular employment. 
 
 A. E. Bums was a stem-winder. As full of energy 
 as an egg is of meat. A Bibb County boy and raised 
 on the farm. Prof. Pratt took a fancy to him and all 
 the schooling he had was in Six Mile Academy. When 
 his education was sufficient, he began teaching — a 
 combination of occupations which many preachers 
 have used to great advantage. His greatest useful- 
 ness began when he consecrated himself wholly to 
 the ministry. He was one of the Board's most effi- 
 cient evangelists in the Tennessee Valley and North 
 Alabama Associations. Burns had a big heart, espe- 
 cially did he sympathize with young preachers. Quite 
 a number were influenced by him to enter the minis- 
 try. He was proud of his oldest boy, Percy, whom he 
 lived to see, a graduate of Howard College. He is 
 now a Professor in the Howard. He has been given 
 a year oiT, which he is spending in Harvard University. 
 
288 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 All the Burns children seem to have been ambitious 
 for learning and are making themselves felt in vari- 
 ous stations of usefulness. 
 
 So the poor boy, reared betv^een the plow handles, 
 the son of a w^idowed mother, lived a life of great use- 
 fulness and left seven children to bless the world. 
 
 CHAPTER 7. 
 
 Lewis Johnson. Fifty years ago, I became pastor 
 of old Providence Church in Dallas County. Not far 
 away, was the home of this dear brother. A little my 
 senior, he became one of the young preacher's faith- 
 ful advisers. He and the good wife were never ab- 
 sent from church and the preacher was ever welcome 
 at their home. He had been a brave Confederate sol- 
 dier and that was a strong tie to bind us. In the army 
 he became a Lieutenant and served with distinction in 
 the 58th Alabama. On the Chicakmauga battle-field, 
 Lieutenant Johnson, while commanding his Company, 
 was supposed mortally wounded and left on the field 
 all night. He was discovered next morning and 
 brought in and his valuable life saved. 
 
 He became a deacon of his church. Modest and re- 
 tiring in the presence of the old deacons, he did but 
 little — indeed deacons didn't know, in those days that 
 anything was expected of them, except to hand around 
 the elements on communion occasions. The pastor, af- 
 ter faithfully trying to get one to Superintend a Sun- 
 day School, organized one and conducted it himself 
 on the two Sundays he preached. This he did for a 
 year or more and it was a great school, but hard on 
 the pastor. Finally an announcement about like this 
 was made : "At the next service the school will be 
 abandoned, unless some one can be found to take 
 charge as Superintendent." The pressure then be- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 289 
 
 came so great on Lewis, he yielded and through the 
 remaining years of his life, except, when too feeble, 
 he stood to his post. Faithfulness characterized his 
 whole course in life. He kept an open house, espec- 
 ially to preachers and all who might be sent to him. 
 He was everybody's man. Justice of the Peace, sur- 
 veyor and general adviser. His neighbors, white and 
 black, made free use of him and he was never too busy 
 to serve them. 
 
 He was Moderator of the Selma Association, until 
 too feeble to attend to the duties. The citizens of the 
 county never had a more faithful service than that he 
 rendered in the Legislature. 
 
 In later years he became possessed of ample means, 
 which he dealt out with a liberal hand. It was a joy 
 to him to give to God and humanity. 
 
 E. W. Haygood, his pastor, writes me : "One of the 
 last things Brother Johnson did, before taking his 
 bed, was to sign a pledge card for $10,000 on the 75 
 Million compaign, for the Howard and Judson. He 
 talked to all who visited him about the campaign and 
 encouraged them to give. He kept up family prayer 
 every night until he became so weak he could not 
 read. His life was a living epistle indeed. The church 
 and neighborhood have lost a friend." 
 
 Not many weeks before his death, his old pastor, 
 on the eve of a trip to Texas wrote in his Memories of 
 Lewis Johnson and Ben Ellis, these words : "The old 
 pastor and his two friends are all getting very old, 
 their time is short. Which will go across first, our 
 Father only knows, but 'When the roll is called up 
 yonder, Ave'll be there." Lewis was the first of the 
 trio to go. If we are "Only remembered by what we 
 have done," this modest brother has memorials plenty, 
 about old Providence and in Dallas County. 
 
290 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Ben F. Ellis: One of my friends when I most need- 
 ed one. A young preacher starting on his great work, 
 needs friends of all sorts. Fortunate will he be, if 
 some sensible, big-hearted, business man will take 
 him under the shadow of his wing. This is what Ben 
 Ellis did for me. 
 
 The membership of Providence Church was scat- 
 tered over a large territory. The large plantations 
 were occupied by a great negro population — the whites 
 were far apart. The Providence field was probably 
 twelve miles square. Four miles from the church, 
 on a good farm, lived a pair of fine people, with two 
 small children. Into that home I was introduced and 
 I became a frequent and ever welcomed visitor. That 
 was the home of B. F. Ellis, now an ex-Senator and 
 a Brigadier General of the Confederate Veterans. He 
 was an up-to-date farmer, a successful merchant and 
 a faithful member of the church. Attending preach- 
 ing regularly and paying his part, was about as far 
 as I ever succeeded in developing him — that is going a 
 long way, with most men. He was a safe adviser and 
 stood with the pastor in everything he undertook. His 
 devoted wife stood with him and encouraged him in all 
 his efforts for his church and neighborhood. He had 
 been in the Confederate army and that formed a 
 strong bond of union. He was among the first 
 to enlist. His fine business sense was soon 
 recognized and he became the Regimental 
 Quartermaster. While in the discharge of his duty, 
 issuing clothing to the soldiers, he was wounded and 
 came near losing his life in the hospital. Ben Ellis, 
 Lewis Johnson and Deacon Wm. Day were the first 
 to go with the pastor to the Association. Getting the 
 members to the Associations and Conventions and 
 bringing strong preachers from the outside, were the 
 two things the pastor worked to great advantage for 
 the development of his people. No preacher ever came 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 291 
 
 to Providence and went away empty handed ; every 
 agent of the denomination was welcomed and Ben El- 
 lis and Lewis Johnson were the two men, with dear old 
 Deacon Cochran, who led the balance to do generous 
 things. Orrville, after my time, organized a church 
 to which the Ellises belonged. With Providence, they 
 erected a comfortable home and now support a pastor 
 between them. This field has come to be known as 
 among the most liberal in their gifts in the State. 
 
 Brother Ellis was President of the Judson Trustees 
 for ten years. He has seen the Institution grow im- 
 mensely. 
 
 The beautiful home of the President, erected as a 
 memorial to Zadie Ellis, his youngest daughter, was 
 made possible by gifts from himself and family. At 
 a time when the Judson was not so flourishing as it 
 now is and when he was not so well-to-do as he now is, 
 he graduated his three daughters there. Now that 
 Lewis Johnson is gone, Ben, and the old pastor are the 
 only male members left of the old church, as I knew 
 them fifty years ago. 
 
 Of the noble women, I can call to mind only three 
 who linger on the border — Mrs. William Day, Miss 
 Necie Mosley and Mrs. Frank Mosley. 
 
 Two preachers have gone out from the church : P. 
 L. Mosley and Graham Mosley. Emily Mosley be- 
 came the wife of Rev. E. B. Hardie and moved away to 
 Texas. Old Deacon C. M. Cochran, one of the pillars 
 of the church as long as he lived, contributed a lovely 
 daughter to become the helpmeet to the pastor. Ver- 
 ily that gift was his greatest. 
 
 These are probably the last lines the old pastor 
 will ever write about the long ago. 
 
 Deacon Claudius McRelas Cochran, of Providence 
 Church. He was the senior deacon of the first church 
 I served as pastor. I found a home in his family. Not 
 a cent would he ever receive for my board or the 
 
292 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 feed of my horse, and he was constantly giving val- 
 uable books to me. His youngest child, for more than 
 a quarter of a century, became my devoted wife and 
 the mother of my children. Brother Cochran was 
 born in Massachusetts ; when quite young he was 
 brought to South Carolina an orphan boy. What be- 
 came of other members of the family or what were 
 the circumstances that brought him South, I do not 
 know. There is not a soul now living who 
 does know. In South Carolina he was married to 
 Eleanor Pouncey. She was a granddaughter of Col. 
 Caleb Kolb, who was an officer in the Revolutionary 
 war. After the war he was killed by the Tories. He 
 was buried on the Great Pedee River, where a mon- 
 ument marks the grave. I guess the couple became 
 members of a Baptist church early in life. In 1834, 
 having moved to Alabama, a few years earlier, 
 they became members of Providence by letter. I pre- 
 sume he was already a deacon, as he was soon rec- 
 ognized as a deacon and served in that capacity until 
 he was relieved because of his infirmity, at his own 
 request. He was true to his church and denomina- 
 tion and generous with his gifts. He became pos- 
 sessed of some rich lands in West Dallas by grants 
 from the government. The old land patents were 
 signed by President Andrew Jackson. 
 
 He was the owner of a number of slaves, most of 
 whom he raised. After freedom the old ser- 
 vants were quite fond of "Old Marster" and 
 "Missus." He gave all his children liberal educa- 
 tions. Two noble boys died in the Confederate Service 
 and it was pathetic to hear the old people talk of those 
 lost boys — two others, Drs. Wm. A. and Robt. M. were 
 in the Confederate medical service in the war, the lat- 
 ter being quite young. Dr. W. A. made a great repu- 
 tatios as a surgeon. He could have stood among the 
 first men of the profession, but he sacrificed himself 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 293 
 
 to be near his old parents. He fell a victim to dis- 
 ease in the prime of his life. He was a devoted mem- 
 ber of Providence — noted not only for his skill in his 
 profession, but his courtly manners and manly quali- 
 ties, which tied everybody to him. Deacon Cochran 
 as a citizen and neighbor was above reproach. My 
 recollection is, he once told me, he had never had 
 a law-suit and never had signed a mortgage. I knew 
 of cases where he allowed himself defrauded rather 
 than have a law-suit. 
 
 I mention in another place the great pleasure Dea- 
 con Cochran had in his own home one night when 
 all the preachers spent the night under his roof dur- 
 ing the Baptist Rally, which turned out to be the 
 last meeting he attended. 
 
 Probably no greater trial came to these dear 
 old people than when they gave up their young- 
 est daughter, with her three young children to 
 go with her preacher-husband to Meridian, Miss. 
 The separation was bad enough, but their dis- 
 tress was greatly increased when news came 
 that the yellow fever had driven the mother and her 
 children to the country and left the husband to bat- 
 tle with the scourge. The mails were irregular and 
 the railroads uncertain. The weary days, how long 
 they seemed ! But the Lord was good and spared 
 them all to be under their roof again. It was my 
 privilege to see the good old deacon cross the river 
 on February 22d, 1885. His breath went out while 
 he was trying to repeat: "Oh, Death, where is thy 
 sting!" He uttered clearly only the first two words. 
 It was the greatest pleasure of the daughter's life 
 to minister to the wants of the old mother in her own 
 home at Marion, a few years longer. I have said 
 nothing directly about the patient, elegant, gentle- 
 woman, the deacon's companion and the devoted 
 mother. Inferences from my remarks can be safely 
 
294 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 drawn to show that she was all that a good woman 
 could be in all the relations of life. 
 
 CHAPTER 8. 
 
 W. T. Davis was a preacher little known outside of 
 a few counties in East Alabama — Clay and Randolph 
 principally. I was never with him enough to learn 
 about his early life, but this I know, in his day, which 
 was the day when Anti-Missionism was rife in the hill 
 sections, Davis was the strong champion for the right 
 and was more dreaded by the Antis than any other 
 man. He was a born progressive and so continued 
 to the day of his death, which occured when he was 
 eighty-five. He is a fine illustration of 
 
 The power of intelligent leadership, winning 
 with the people. In a time when people were 
 to be reached wholly, by the spoken word, this 
 one man, stood for the truth against the cham- 
 pions of false doctrine and won out before the peo- 
 ple. He it was, too, who most of all stood for the 
 doctrines of the Baptists. I don't know how many 
 books he had in his library, but he knew his Bible 
 and with that Sword of the Spirit he mowed down 
 the Anti-Missionaries, on one hand and the Anti- 
 Baptists on the other, so that those Counties, where 
 he labored, are largely Baptist and, missionary Bap- 
 tists at that — at least, they call themselves Missionary 
 and would be offended to be called Antis, though many 
 of them give but little to Missions. However, they 
 are improving along the line of Giving and will be 
 hear from later as a generous host. 
 
 It would be interesting to know how it came 
 about that the Carey Association was so named. 
 The going of Carey from England to India, 
 was the lighted match that caused the explo- 
 sion among the Baptists of that country. It took 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 295 
 
 some years for the going- of Carey and his 
 work to percolate through to our country neigh- 
 borhoods, but when it did, the trouble began. The 
 great split came in 1833-34. The Antis said: "We 
 will not give our money auid you shall not." That was 
 more than liberty-loving men could stand. The East 
 Liberty Association was organized in 1836, taking its 
 name, I judge, as a protest to the intolerant spirit 
 that was rife at that time. The Carey, coming after, 
 must have been a defiant body, to have taken the 
 name of the man who had caused all the trouble. 
 W. T. Davis, I am sure, was their brave leader from 
 the start. 
 
 John P. Shaffer, when I knew him, was a cripple 
 from the loss of half of one foot, which was taken 
 off by a cannon ball, in battle, during the civil war. 
 I know he had thrilling experiences to relate about 
 the war, but I was never with him when he related 
 them. 
 
 He was a handsome fellow, with a striking per- 
 sonality. He had made a reputation in building a 
 college and erecting a handsome building at Roan- 
 oke. He had done the same thing at Lineville, also. 
 Those schools and their president had much to do 
 with the well being of society in all East Alabama. 
 A finer class of country people cannot be found 
 in the State and the Baptists largely predominate. 
 
 Shaffer was pastor of several of the best churches 
 in that section — one of these, Roanoke, for half time. 
 "Shaffer's Kingdom" extended over Randolph jand 
 Chambers Counties, comprising the churches of the 
 East Liberty Association. In the time of the Hard- 
 shell persecution, "Liberty" became a great name for 
 churches and associations. There were so many Lib- 
 erty Associations, they designated them by the points 
 of the compass. There was a West Liberty, a North 
 Liberty, and an East Liberty. This last has been 
 
296 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 N 
 
 in point of attendance, membership and contributions, 
 the most conspicuous, until the last few years when 
 Randolph, pulling off from the East Liberty, formed 
 an Association of its own. Shaffer, for years, was 
 Moderator of the Liberty. 
 
 "I try to write a letter to every member of my 
 churches every two months," he said to me on one 
 occasion. He wrote a beautiful hand. One can imag- 
 ine how the people would regard such letters from a 
 much loved pastor. Imagine, too, the time it took, 
 when there were no typewriters or manifolders. Did 
 they support him? Yes, indeed, and that lib- 
 erally for those days. His churches were the most 
 liberal and reliable for regular contributions to all 
 objects. 
 
 I remember this incident at the Carey Association. 
 An eccentric Doctor Scarborough was the Moderator. 
 He was a king in Zion, for the time being. "Brother 
 Moderator !" a fellow would shout. The Moderator 
 would look in his direction and ask: "What do you 
 want? You don't know anything about this matter, 
 but go ahead. I'll call you down if you don't plumb 
 the track," or "What do you know about this?" and 
 the fellow would reply: "Brother Moderator, I have 
 the floor," whereupon the Moderator might reply : 
 "No, sir, you ain't. I'm Moderator, and I have the 
 floor." One fellow said : "We elected you, and we 
 won't do it again." "Don't make any difference. I 
 didn't ask you to elect me, but as long as I am here, 
 I'm going to have my own way." All this was in 
 perfect good humor, and the house was in a roar all 
 the time — but to the incident I was going to relate: 
 A letter was read from a church making application 
 for membership, in which the statement was made : 
 "We hold the washing of the Saints' feet as an ordi- 
 nance with Baptism and the Lord's Supper." I believe 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 297 
 
 it was Brother W. T. Davis who spoke about as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 "Brethren, there are preachers in this Association, 
 who, for years, have contended, if Foot-Washing could 
 be discussed before the Association, the question 
 could be settled right. Now that it is brought before 
 the Association, brought here by the advocates of 
 Foot-Washing, I move that a committee be appointed 
 to take the letter in hand, and bring in a report 
 
 tonight, that Brother shall represent the 
 
 Foot- Washers, and Brother Shaffer the Antis, that 
 each side confine himself entirely to what the Scrip- 
 tures say; the Association, after it has heard the 
 speeches from the two, to vote on the reception of 
 the church." 
 
 This became the order, after Shaffer had empha- 
 sized the requirement that "only what the Scriptures 
 said would be considered." and the Moderator said he 
 would hold both sides to that agreement. My recol- 
 lection is, though I may be mistaken, the debate did 
 not take place and the church was not received. 
 
 Shaffer had a fine constitution, and one would have 
 expected him to live to a ripe old age, but he died 
 almost in his prime at Lineville, surrounded by as 
 loyal children as the Lord ever gave to any man. His 
 devoted wife survived him only a little while. My 
 recollection is that Brother Davis, the aged, officiated 
 at his funeral. 
 
 W. C. Bledsoe always comes to mind when the East 
 Liberty Association is mentioned. He has been the 
 faithful Clerk of that body since my first acquaint- 
 ance with the body. 
 
 He was a student with me in Georgetown, Ken- 
 tucky, just after the Civil War, though several years 
 my junior. He was the same well-behaved, modest 
 young man then, that I have known him to be in all 
 the years of his manhood. Because of the splendid 
 
298 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 training he had received at LaFayette, he graduated 
 in one year at Georgetown. After marrying 
 and being pastor in Kentucky for several years, he 
 became pastor of his home church. He w^as in the 
 service of his County in several different capacities, 
 and pastor of churches in reach of his home. If any- 
 body has ever made a better Association minute than 
 Bledsoe, I have never seen it. The troublesome 
 question of reading the letters at the Association, is 
 solved by Bledsoe — he reads all of them himself, 
 omitting every superflous word. 
 
 When I moved away to Kentucky, after serving as 
 Secretary for ten years, Bledsoe was elected in my 
 place and acted in that capacity most of the time until 
 my return to the State. 
 
 John F. Bledsoe was father of W. C. I met him 
 not many times, but I heard of his work from many 
 sources. As Secretary, I had dealings with him, as 
 he was a most faithful Colporter of the Board. He was 
 a scholar, he knew books and what the people needed 
 to read. He was in great sympathy with country 
 life. All these qualifications fitted him to be a most 
 effective worker and the best colporter in the State. 
 Go where you may in the East Liberty Association, 
 you. will find some of "Uncle John Bledsoe's" books 
 on the center table. I am sure this is the reason of 
 the rate of intelligence one will find, above the aver- 
 age, in the Association. 
 
 A younger son of this good man, James Bledsoe, 
 is a useful preacher and another, Frank, has attained 
 distinction as a teacher in Massachusetts. 
 
 Z. D. Roby, a North Carolinian by birth, son of a 
 preacher, a chum of Shaffer, best known in Macon 
 County, where most of his ministerial work was done, 
 was not intimately known to me, for I was with him 
 but little. He was pastor for some while at Tus- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 299 
 
 kegee and Opelika. He was scholarly, a strong 
 preacher and a congenial companion. 
 
 W. E. Lloyd was the son of a preacher, W. S. Lloyd 
 of East Alabama, whose tragic death is talked about 
 by the very old people to this day. He was consid- 
 ered a fine preacher and died suddenly, falling in the 
 pulpit. He was a man of remarkable weight of body, 
 280 pounds. 
 
 Like his father, W. E. was fleshy, so much so it 
 was a serious handicap to his ministry. He once said 
 to the writer: "I have about quit going anywhere, as 
 it is embarrassing. I break down so many chairs and 
 beds." His genial spirit and wise counsel and schol- 
 arly gifts, made him an interesting character and 
 popular preacher. He was a pastor when I knew 
 him at Auburn. 
 
 E. F. Baber was among the first evangelists ap- 
 pointed by the Board to travel in the district embrac- 
 ing the counties from Hale on the west to Bullock 
 on the east. When I first knew him he was con- 
 nected with a paper in Greenville. 
 
 He married a fine young woman. Miss Rives, of 
 Collirene. He was the pastor of a number of churches 
 in Dallas and Lowndes. Not an interesting speaker 
 and a failure socially, but as a pastor, he delivered the 
 goods. He said to me once, when I had rather crit- 
 icized him for the loose way he took in members, "We 
 know each other's fields pretty well. You criticize 
 me for my looseness in taking in members, while you 
 are much more careful. Suppose we go over the men 
 each of us have baptized and compare their lives. It 
 was agreed to. We hadn't gone far in the investiga- 
 tion, before I held up my hands and said, "nough." 
 His men had turned out best. His training in a print- 
 ing office and his letters from the field, in the Ala- 
 bama Baptist, while he was an evangelist, marked him 
 as a suitable man for Major Harris to have in charge 
 
300 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 of the paper. Probably its most prosperous years 
 were while Baber was the office man, and to him 
 most of the credit of its success was due. 
 
 W. G. Curry was another one of the original evan- 
 gelists under the Mission Board. He was but a boy 
 in the army ; he was promoted to a Chaplaincy though 
 very young. Like many another preacher, he was 
 fortunate in the wife he got. She made his home 
 happy and helped marvelously in the churches where 
 he labored. His most successful pastorate probably 
 was Furman. He had others — once at Albany, but 
 nowhere did he fit quite so well, as in Wilcox. For 
 years he was a member of the State Mission Board, 
 a silent member for the most part. However, when 
 he did speak he was sure to be listened to. The 
 Board for years had been publishing its willingness to 
 do something for the negroes, if anybody gave any- 
 thing for that purpose. Years had passed and noth- 
 ing had been given. The need was growing greater 
 each year. It was W. G. Curry who cut the knot and 
 let the negroes in as beneficiaries. The question he 
 asked was about like this : "Our Foreign Mission 
 Board has been doing something for Africa for many 
 years. Suppose they had fallen upon our plan to 
 help the negroes with whatever amount should be 
 given for that purpose. Would they have ever done 
 anything for Africa?" 
 
 Asking that question brought its own answer and 
 from that day the wants of the negroes had been 
 considered and aid rendered them. He gave a son 
 to the ministry, J. Renfroe Curry, now pastor at 
 Wetumpka. A daughter, Bessie, who became the 
 wife, until God took her, of W. Y. Quisenberry, the 
 irrepressible, called so, because of his persistency in 
 pressing collections, especially for Foreign Missions. 
 
 John Newton Prestridge. His name indicates that 
 he descended from Christian parents. They knew the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 301 
 
 life and honored the memory of the man, who from 
 being a very great sinner, became, by the grace of 
 God, a great saint. It is said of him, while gazing 
 at a culprit being hastened away to prison with irons 
 on his limbs : "There goes John Newton but for the 
 grace of God." The first I knew of John Prestridge 
 he was a bookkeeper in Selma. His grandfather, 
 McCraw, was one of the pioneer preachers of the 
 State. When John entered Howard College, a preach- 
 er who knew him well, said: "John is making a mis- 
 take. He is doing well in business and is quite useful 
 in his church, but he won't make a preacher." But 
 John did make good, after he finished his seminary 
 course. He was not a great preacher, but a suc- 
 cessful pastor at several points. He successfully 
 launched the Baptist Argus enterprise, afterwards 
 called The Baptist World. It was a fine paper and had a 
 great name from the start, but it was not a financial 
 success. John was the leader in making the World's 
 Baptist Congress a success, for a time and, could he 
 have lived and had the money, it might have become 
 a blessing to the Baptists of all the world. 
 
 It was a great shock to the entire denomination 
 when it was announced that John had suddenly died. 
 The Western Recorder finally purchased what was 
 left of the Baptist World and is now without a rival 
 in the newspaper field in Kentucky. 
 
 T. M. Barbour is another brother I knew but little 
 about. Wherever I crossed his tracks I heard of his 
 labors abundant. With Tuskaloosa as the central 
 county he had a district in which the mining indus- 
 try was just beginning to attract attention. Like all 
 the other fields, the anti-missionary spirit largely pre- 
 vailed and all the evangelists had that spirit to com- 
 bat. Indeed, the whole State lacked but little of be- 
 ing anti-everything. 
 
302 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Wash Wilkes was the first graduate of Howard col- 
 lege. His field of labor was mostly Talladega, Cal- 
 houn and Shelby. He was well known and every- 
 where regarded as a strong preacher. In his work 
 as an evangelist, I suspect he put the stress on preach- 
 ing, to the neglect of specific, developing work. The 
 result was that he failed to get his salary and he 
 never got over it with the Board, though it was stip- 
 ulated in the contract that every man must collect 
 his own salary. Brother Wilkes was an out-spoken 
 man often bordering on harshness, but I suspect his 
 heart was tenderer than he ever got credit for. 
 
 J. S. Yarborough is the last of the first batch of 
 evangelists. Southeast Alabama was his field. Like 
 all the others I have mentioned, with one or two 
 exceptions, he was making a living from his farm, 
 supplemented by small salaries from several congre- 
 gations. 
 
 "Dead in earnest" are the words that most nearly 
 describe this brother. Now past eighty, he is dead 
 in earnest still. Modest soul that he is, he never got 
 credit for half his value. 1920, at the age of 85, this 
 good man fell asleep. How tenderly he was loved 
 by all who knew him ! 
 
 Charles A. Stakely is another living, I must leave 
 a word for. Incidentally he was born in Tennessee, 
 but no doubt his preference would have been Ala- 
 bama, had he been consulted. I always pictured him a 
 rolicking boy in Montgomery. Here he spent a part 
 of his boyhood days and was baptized when quite 
 young into the fellowship of the First church by Dr. 
 Gwin. Coming from an old time, cultivated, south- 
 ern family he was carefully reared with every ad- 
 vantage of education. After graduation, he chose 
 the law as a profession, but God had better things 
 for him and called him to the work of the ministry. 
 His ability was soon recognized and he was called 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 303 
 
 to some of the best churches in the South — Charles- 
 ton and Washington City, I call to mind. He is now, 
 and has been for a number of years, in the pastorate 
 of the old First church where his discipleship began. 
 When he dies, a very simple slab will suffice over his 
 grave to mark the spot where his body is deposited, 
 but the great Marble Temple will stand through the 
 ages as his monument erected under his direction, 
 by loving hands of the large membership of his 
 church. When it is dedicated, if I am living, I will 
 move that it be named: The Stakely Memorial. 
 
 What Stakely doesn't know about Hymns and 
 Hymn-writers, is not worth knowing. This is not all 
 he knows by any means . Some one asked : "What is 
 your estimate of Stakely as a scholar?" The reply 
 was: "I, and very many of the preachers of my class, 
 know something about a thousand things ; Stakely 
 knows a thousand things, without the about." Jump 
 him up on any subject and he can exhaust it in few 
 words. He is noted for his short sermons and that 
 pleases the folks — fifteen minutes frequently is suffi- 
 cent time for his discourse. But the careful hearer 
 will remember his exposition of Scripture as he reads, 
 which often consumes, very profitably another fif- 
 teen minutes. These expositions are not mere off- 
 hand, incidental utterances, but studied efforts to give 
 the true meaning of the Word. 
 
 When Camp Sheridan was located near Montgom- 
 ery the women of the First church maintained a free 
 luncheon and social service every Friday night in 
 the basement of the church. Of course, that brought 
 many of the boys to the church at the Sunday serv- 
 ice. The Ohio boys said the First church gave the 
 longest welcome and the shortest sermons of any 
 church. 
 
 Having been a lawyer is mo disadvantage to a 
 preacher. Other things being equal, it is a great ad- 
 
304 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 vantage. The clear cut expressions, the logic and the 
 sifting of evidence, all inure to his advantage. 
 
 Sam Clements lived in Tuskaloosa County and was 
 well acquainted in all the country in the region 
 north of Tuskaloosa. The Secretary had made 
 a list of appointments extending over ten days 
 in that section, beginning at Fayette Court 
 House. Sam Clements, behind a fine pair of 
 mules, wheeled me over the territory. I found 
 him well posted in politics — indeed, he was the man 
 in his neighborhood that the politicians were most 
 anxious to use. He had a good farm, a considerable 
 family and was an active church member. Every 
 word spoken in the meetings he heard. I do not re- 
 call it, if he spoke in the meetings. I do not remem- 
 ber if he and I had any conversation religiously of 
 a personal nature, but I know he listened and asked 
 questions. Deeply grateful for the service he ren- 
 dered, the Secretary was not likely ever to forget him. 
 
 Dawson, the Bishop of Tuscaloosa, who knew Sam 
 well, and I, talked it all over — Sam's kindness, espe- 
 cially. Later he wrote me : "Did you know Sam Cle- 
 ments has been ordained to preach? I think it a mis- 
 take at his time of life," and I agreed with him, but 
 two years later, I attended the Sipsey Association. 
 I found to my great delight, Sam was the leading 
 man in everything. Every facility was given the 
 Secretary to present every interest of the denomina- 
 tion. I heard him make good speeches on several 
 subjects. On inquiry I found he was pastor of the 
 best churches in the Association. I write of Sam 
 to encourage scores of men situated as he was and to 
 illustrate our mistakes. It never entered my head 
 one time that the Lord wanted Sam to be a preacher, 
 or that such a thought had ever entered Sam's head. 
 I had been riding by his side, talking for hours about 
 almost everything, discussing in his hearing a call to 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 305 
 
 the ministry, and the great need of more laborers in 
 the Kingdom, and, never once thinking of him as a 
 preacher. 
 
 Men in middle life with families, the Lord has often 
 called, who became greatly useful in Kingdom work. 
 All over our country there are such men. They need 
 only a little encouragement to fall, like a ripe peach 
 falls from the stem at a touch. We have been sup- 
 posing that the called would be obliged to answer the 
 call. God inclines the called, but they may resist. 
 
 If one hesitates from lack of preparation, we are 
 living in a new day, and the chance of preparation is 
 going to be furnished to every man who gives evi- 
 dence of a call from God. Preparation will be suited 
 to every age and condition, in our winter and summer 
 schools and institutes. 
 
 I have looked with great pleasure into the face of 
 Sam Clements at many of these schools. Any good 
 man, with ordinary common sense can greatly increase 
 his store of knowledge and improve by a few weeks 
 each year at these preacher gatherings. All honor 
 to the man, who overcomes difficulties and serves the 
 Master in the place to which he has been called of 
 God. 
 
Part Nine 
 BAPTISTS OF SOUTH ALABAMA 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 These embrace the territory from Montgomery 
 South to the gulf. The first Baptists we have any 
 record of was in North Alabama — in the Tennessee 
 Valley about Huntsville. Only a little later we read 
 of Baptist beginnings in South Alabama on the Ten- 
 sas (Tensaw) river and the Bigbee at St. Stephens, 
 afterwards the State Capital. It is said a Baptist 
 preacher once visited St. Stephens and was ferried 
 across the river and warned never to return. The 
 third church in the State, Enon, now First church, 
 Huntsville, being the second, was Bassetts Creek, near 
 Choctaw Corner in Clarke County, organized in 1810. 
 
 The first Association on Alabama soil was the Beck- 
 be (Bethlehem) in 1812. It finally extended to the 
 Mississippi line west and from Lowndes County to 
 the Gulf. 
 
 The Baptists abound now in all the South Ala- 
 bama territory. The names of Travis, Lindsey and 
 Sessions, the pioneer preachers, are very frequent in 
 all this region. In the Wiregrass, the term given to 
 Southeast Alabama, Baptists are strongest. The last 
 few years have witnessed the greatest transformation 
 — the sweeping away of the vast pine forests and the 
 opening up to agriculture a country which is likely 
 to be the most wealthy in the State. Lands have gone 
 up in value from $1.00 an acre to $75 and $100. The 
 reports coming from that section about the money 
 value of their crops and stock are almost unbeliev- 
 able. Of course, the Baptists have their share in 
 this great increase in wealth. What it is going to 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 307 
 
 do for them is a question. If their pulpits were filled 
 with a well informed, consecrated m'inistry, Ihere 
 would be no question. But for the most part, the 
 preachers are secularized — many of them with the 
 money bee buzzing in their bonnets. There can be 
 no study, no visting and I doubt if there can be much 
 praying, where that is the case. "Not a lover of 
 money," was one of the qualifications of a bishop, 
 Paul wrote his son Timothy, again he exhorts: "But 
 thou, O man of God, flee these things," referring to 
 the entanglements of money. 
 
 If reference were made to the books, it would be 
 found that almost every church in the towns of im- 
 portance in the Wiregrass, was helped in its early 
 struggles by the State Mission Board — Dothan being 
 a conspicuous example. Troy is, or was the chief 
 city in those parts, but I suspect Dothan would dis- 
 pute that claim now. Troy was a center of a large 
 wagon trade before there was a railroad. Its chief 
 founders were country men who moved to town and 
 became rich. I remember the old barn of a frame 
 building where they worshipped, only twice a month. 
 
 They had an erratic preacher who rode a high 
 wheel, wore long hair and was probably their first all- 
 time preacher. My, how he could preach ! He was a 
 charmer when it came to talk and certainly he was 
 a good man. Because he rode a wheel, the first in 
 those parts, and made much of oratory, which not 
 many of us can do, he was much critized. He made 
 friends who would die for him, as well as enemies 
 who criticized unmercifully. He afterwards preached 
 in Montgomery — then in Chattanooga, and then re- 
 turned to Florida — where it is said he had a great 
 orange orchard. I frequently heard of his preaching 
 after his return to his Florida home, but I think he 
 filled no important pulpit. It was frequently said 
 he filled the house with people to hear, but added but 
 
308 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 few, if any, to the church. I refer to Dr. Wombolt. 
 He took no interest in the denomination, nor in his 
 church, for that matter, except to preach to them. 
 
 llie real growth of the Baptists at Troy came with 
 John Purser, a fine young fellow from Mississippi. 
 He came into the State with his older brother, D. I., 
 who was an evangelist and John was his singer and 
 helper. A charming widow caught John and he tar- 
 ried at this fine young city in the piney woods for 
 quite a while. I sometimes tell of: 
 
 The time when I was inspired. It was about this 
 way: The third session of our Baptist Congress went 
 to Troy. They had just finished a fine $20,000.00 
 church building. It was the wonder for all that part 
 of the State. At an informal reception the night be- 
 fore, when everything was moving along swimmingly^ 
 John said : "Crumpton, I'm going to call on you for a 
 speech presently." I protested that he would ruin 
 everything to break up the informality that was pre- 
 vailing. "But," he said, "Dr. Hiden is going to re- 
 cite for us," to which I responded: "For heaven's sake, 
 don't. We've nobody to match Hiden, if Wharton or 
 Nunnally were here it would be different." I saw 
 he was determined. I looked for my hat and over- 
 coat, but they were under a chair where a lady was 
 sitting. I began to think and perspire, winter as it 
 was, but it was no go. I was as dry as a pasture 
 in August. Presently the word sounded out: "If you 
 will all arrange your seats Dr. Hiden will recite for 
 us, "The One-Horse Chaise." Oh, the agony of the 
 moments — what would I say ! Great relief came with 
 the announcement: "Brother Hale will speak to us." 
 Tom arose with a speech about like this : "I have-er- 
 nothing to say-er-Brother Purser-er-said-er-Dr. Hi- 
 den would-er-recite-er-again if somebody would-er- 
 speak-er." I am not making fun of Tom, for I could 
 not have done as well, I am sure. Then Hiden gave 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 309 
 
 us a sidesplitter. I was almost ready to die with 
 fright thinking I'd be next. I thought of every joke 
 I ever told and nothing would fit. Fortunately he 
 called on Pickard. He arose with as solemn a face 
 as if he had been at a funeral and with a sort of sepul- 
 chral tone, said: "I never could tell a joke. I am poor 
 at reciting, but maybe I can say something in keep- 
 ing with the^object that brought us to Troy." With 
 that he came down one one knee, turned his eyes to 
 the ceiling and with folded hands, in the most dra- 
 matic way, recited the Lord's Prayer. With such a 
 turn to the serious, my task seemed crushing, for I 
 was sure my time had come. "Brother Crumpton," 
 said John. It camie to me like a flash from the blue: 
 "We have had the Lord's Prayer, now let us have 
 the long meter Doxology, and all go home. Brother 
 Adams, lead us." That was in the days when the 
 doxology came at the close, not in the beginning, as in 
 these days. It was help from above for me, so I have 
 a right to call it "the time when I was inspired." John 
 doesn't know till this day who broke up his meet- 
 ing — whether Pickard or L 
 
 My, what a church has Troy today ! I guess the 
 town is the wealthiest of the smaller cities and the 
 church stands far up towards the front in liberality. 
 It has had some great preachers, R. J. Batemen one 
 of them. He gave them five years of faithful serv- 
 ice, putting them on the mission map. To the re- 
 great of everybody, he went away to Meridian, Mis- 
 sissippi. 
 
 I tell about the begimiings at Dothan in another 
 place. 
 
 I had never been in South East Alabama. I got 
 the minutes of some of the Associations, picked out 
 some of the strongest churches, named a date when 
 I'd be there, with other brethren, to carry out the 
 program. I didn't know a soul in all the region ex- 
 
310 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 cept a few preachers. I had with me: B. F. Riley, 
 President of Howard College ; George Brewer, John 
 Purser, pastor of Troy ; Burr, of Columbia. 
 
 Though it was in February, or March, the Lord fa- 
 vored us with the best of weather and helped us win 
 our way into the hearts of the people. All went well 
 for a time, then we met with a rebufif ; it was this way: 
 Getting off the train at Ozark about dark, we heard a 
 voice in the crowd say: "Is there any preachers here?" 
 It was the voice of a tenant from Brother Pippin^s 
 farm sent with a wagon to meet us. After getting 
 out a little, he began to open up : "I don't know what 
 
 you fellers is goin' to do out at church. 
 
 At the conference last Saturday they voted not to 
 have the Rally. They sed they never hered uv a 
 Baptist Rally. They'd hered uv rallying wild hogs in 
 the swamp, but no body ever hered uv rallyin' Bap- 
 tists." "Why did Brother Pippin send for us then?" 
 was asked. "Well," said he, "old man Pippin, aint 
 easy turned down when he takes a notion ; so Sunday 
 evnin' he sends round to the members houses and asked 
 to have the use uv the house and grounds for Tues- 
 day and next day and all agreed. Him an' his boys 
 an' they folks, is about all you will have. He'll feed 
 you shore, but tother peeples won't be ther. 
 
 TTiat was the first set back we'd had. 
 
 Sure enough not many were present, but the pro- 
 gramme was carried out as if the house was full. At 
 night we had a good crowd, next day many more and 
 a full house at night. The last day I said: "We have 
 had a good time here, we'd be glad to hear from you 
 brethren. Tell us what you think of a Baptist Rally." 
 The first man, fairly sprung to his feet and said: "I 
 want to be the first to speak, for I am the man who 
 made the motion last Saturday not to have the Rally. 
 I slipped in the first night, I was ashamed to be seen 
 in day time, until today. I want to say Brother Crump- 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 311 
 
 ton, if you want to have another Rally come right 
 
 along to church. I am sure no one will ever 
 
 object again." Then dear old Brother Pippin spoke of 
 his great enjoyment of the meeting. Then the Sec- 
 retary spoke about as follows : 'That first morning I 
 went off in the woods to pray. 
 
 God gave me a vision: I looked at the branch which 
 had been following its tortuous way for centuries — 
 how it did wind about through the woods. One great 
 old poplar, had stood in its way through the years, 
 but every time there came an overflow, the stream 
 would flow around it, sweeping away a little of the 
 soil about its roots. Its power to dam the stream 
 grew less with every flood and finally it fell and I 
 saw nothing but a part of the old stump left. The 
 stream now flows through a new channel almost en- 
 tirely free from all obstructions. For a time there 
 were live roots from neighboring trees that stretched 
 across the new made channel, but almost the last one 
 has been broken by the onrushing stream and in a lit- 
 tle while the last will be gone and the branch will go 
 singing on its way to the sea. That is what I saw 
 when I was meditating after my prayer. Then I mor- 
 alized thus : That stream is the missionary force God 
 put into the world to carry His gospel. The old pop- 
 lar was the Hardshells — they call themselves Primi- 
 tive Baptists, that means, they claim to be the first 
 Baptists. They are mighty old, but they were not the 
 first. I want you to read about their first church, 
 turn to the third Epistle of John. Diotrephes 
 was the pastor; he wouldn't receive the missionaries 
 sent forth to preach among the Gentiles and he would 
 not let others help and when they did, he turned them 
 out of the church. They were democratic in govern- 
 ment, he couldn't have turned them out without the 
 majority of the church favored it. So there we have 
 an account in the New Testament of the first Hard- 
 
312 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 shell church. That's going back a long way, but it is 
 some distance away from the first church. But 
 the old poplar fell and so the Hardshells are get- 
 ting out of the way fast. Those green roots I saw ex- 
 tending themselves across the new channel, are the An- 
 ti-Missionary members we have with us and they are 
 fast breaking. Some of them, thank the Lord, are being 
 converted, others are dying, I hope the Lord will save 
 them — anyway, they are disappearing and meetings 
 
 like this we have held here at church, 
 
 are doing the work. Baptists have always had as big 
 hearts as anybody. Their minds must be directed into 
 right channels and they will come right every time." 
 My, what upheavals have come from the steady flow- 
 ing of Gospel stream ! Praise the Lord for the work 
 done through the Baptist Rallies. 
 
 N. C Underwood was for a long time, pastor at 
 Brundidge. He was a tinner by trade. I do not know 
 the circumstances that led him into the ministry. He 
 was a remarkable man in many ways. I do not know 
 what educational advantages he had, but he used good 
 language and was a born speaker. He did not dream 
 of his power. He was very deliberate, spoke slowly 
 but distinctly, with an emphasis that fastened atten- 
 tion from the beginning to the end of his discourse, 
 which was never long. He studied but little, but ab- 
 sorbed everything he heard and used it with great 
 force. He was a" born wag and as good at repartee as 
 an Irishman. I undertook to advise him once. I said: 
 "Underwood, sit right still now until I tell you some- 
 thing. You have no idea the power you could be if 
 you would study. You generally get home on Monday 
 or Tuesday night. You ought to tell your wife not to 
 let anybody disturb you before noon ; to stand guard 
 and let you have every morning undisturbed in your 
 study." When I was through he said. 'T am much 
 obliged, but I am not going to do it, for if I tell her 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 313 
 
 that, she will make me do it and I don't want to have a 
 row in the family." His home, with his wife and four 
 daughters, was one of the sweetest I was ever in. 
 Preachers are noted for their good humor. They have 
 good reasons to be happy; but in the days of which I 
 write, jocularity figured too strongly. The brother who 
 was the best anecdotist was a great man. Underwood 
 never forgot a good joke and, out of the pulpit, he 
 could entertain any crowd that might assemble. The 
 people loved "Nathe" as they called him, and a royal 
 man was taken when he went away. 
 
 Capt. John T. Davis was a great layman in his day. 
 Columbia was a place of much importance on the 
 Chattahoochee, right at the corner of Georgia and 
 Florida, before the railroad came. He was a banker 
 and the chief man of the town. He was a deacon and 
 the Sunday School Superintendent. He was proud 
 of his town, his church and his home. Mother Davis 
 knew how to make a home, take care of the traveling 
 preachers and see to it that her pastor's table was 
 equal to the best. Brother Davis was Moderator of 
 his Association for years — though always full of busi- 
 ness, he never was too busy to attend its meetings. 
 He was liberal with his money. He sent me a check 
 for $1,000.00 once. It frightened me. I had to take 
 off my glasses and rub them and look at it again 
 to see if I had not made a mistake. I was nervous 
 all day. I thought at first the Association had cer- 
 tainly taken up a great collection and sent it by the 
 hand of the Moderator ; but no, I discovered by fur- 
 ther investigation it was his own personal gift. Broth- 
 er Davis and his good wife lived to a ripe old age 
 and left a family to be proud of. 
 
 Ben Forrester's name is inseparably connected with 
 the Columbia Association. He was a Baptist *'from 
 away back." He didn't take to new methods, espe- 
 cially those that looked to the gathering of money. 
 
314 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 He was the Treasurer of an Association, great in 
 numbers and resources, but they never gave him 
 much money to handle. My first visit to his church, 
 Cow^arts, w^as at the Association. My home was 
 at Uncle Ben's. Cotton bales were piled in the 
 yard and outside — much of it from the crop 
 of the year before. I learned that it was his 
 habit to hold cotton until March before he sold. Speak- 
 ing of missions he said : "They got up a scheme last 
 year to get ten cents a head from every member. 
 Some said we'd never get it, but I told them to put 
 Cowarts church down, I'd pay it, if it weren't sent up. 
 I went up Saturday and paid up what was lacking." 
 Think of it! Ten cents a head! I said: ''Brother 
 Forrester, I believe I will make a prophecy. Five years 
 from now this church will have a preacher living in a 
 pastor's home right here, preaching two Sundays in 
 the month. You will be paying him $500.00 and giving 
 $500.00 more for Missions." Whereupon "mine host" 
 said, in his stentorian voice : *Ts there another church 
 in this State named 'Cowarts?' I am sure you are 
 not talking about this little, piney woods church up 
 here." Uncle Ben, as they called him, was a liberal 
 supporter of his church, but he never got over his 
 Hardshell raising about missions. He was in the 
 Legislature from his county once and served them 
 well. Speaking of his holding his cotton crop until 
 March — this was told on him : In the days of the gold 
 and silver discussion. Uncle Ben was strong for sil- 
 ver. He sold his holdings, maybe 250 bales, at Do- 
 than. To test his faith in the white metal, the buyer 
 offered him silver in pay, which he readily accepted. 
 He loaded it in a two-horse wagon, took his seat 
 Avith the driver, with a double-barrel gun across his 
 lap, and drove thirty miles away to Columbia and 
 deposited it in the Davis bank. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 315 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 A great character little known outside of South- 
 east Alabama was : 
 
 Doctor A. L. Martin. The few times I was with 
 him, I learned greatly to appreciate him. 
 
 After a great struggle with poverty in his youth, 
 by dint of industry and honesty, he won his way first 
 on the farm. He studied medicine. After two 
 years training in school he secured a diploma 
 at Augusta, Georgia, and gave himself to prac- 
 ticing and farming and merchandising, and later 
 still, he added preaching. After a time he gave 
 up practice, and all over Henry and adjoining coun- 
 ties, he was known as a defender of the faith of the 
 people called Missionary Baptists. His extreme deaf- 
 ness was a handicap to his usefulness. The hard doc- 
 trines of the Bible were very dear to him. Calvin 
 believed them no stronger than he. He was an in- 
 tense Missionary, but lived in a country where the 
 great masses of the people gave little money to the 
 cause. He made by preaching, intense Baptists. 
 Strange that the same earnestness for missions didn't 
 make practical missionaries among the people. 
 
 Doctor Martin was of the J. R. Graves type of 
 Baptists and made a practice of cleaning up the Pedo- 
 baptists in every sermon. 
 
 At one of the Baptist Rallies, I announced before 
 adjournment, we would take a collection that night. 
 I wished all to come prepared to give. Doctor Mar- 
 tin not hearing a word I said, announced that 
 he would preach at a private home a mile 
 or two away. The next morning, the visiting preach- 
 ers and I saw him coming. I remarked: 'T am going 
 to tell him he ran away from a collection." As he ap- 
 proached, without salutation, he walked straight to 
 me, remarking: "Crumpton, a thing like this you are 
 
316 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 running can't get along without money. Here's to 
 help you," and he put a ten dollar gold-piece in my 
 hand, almost as much as the whole congregation gave 
 the night before. I felt as mean as a dog, to have sug- 
 gested even as a joke, he was running away from 
 a collection. The boys never told on me, and he 
 never knew it. If Doctor Martin had had his hear- 
 ing, he would have been the peer of any preacher in 
 the State. I heard him deliver some great sermons. 
 Note how many of the old-time preachers were sec- 
 ularized. We are not favorable to a secularized min- 
 istry now, but they saved the day for the Baptists in 
 the rural sections of the South. Brother Martin had 
 two sons to follow him in the ministry. 
 
 Pitt Calloway: Known principally in Barbour, Dale 
 and Coffee Counties, was a great man in his day. Once 
 a merchant, then a farmer on an extensive scale, and 
 a popular preacher besides. When I first met him, he 
 was living at Newton, retired from the ministry, loved 
 and respected by all who knew him. More than once 
 he represented his county in the Legislature. 
 
 He raised a large family of devoted children, every 
 one of them Baptists. His only son, Pitt, Junior, and 
 his grandsons, Pitt and J. W. Jones and W. R. Ivey 
 all are preachers. Most of these old preachers had 
 comfortable homes, with faithful slaves to cultivate 
 their farms while they gave their lives to preaching 
 the Gospel. They did it for the love of it, receiving 
 almost no compensation at all. 
 
 Brethren Deal and Poyner were two other good 
 men I call to mind in the Wiregrass, but I am not 
 sufficiently acquainted with their labors to write of 
 them. 
 
 Newton, The Gem of the Wiregrass, I call it ; not 
 because of the town so much as the Baptist Colle- 
 giate Institute, there located. To be candid: It is the 
 child of denominational rivalrv. It came about this 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 317 
 
 way: The Methodists fixed on Newton as a good place 
 to locate a high school. No finer spot could be found. 
 A fine community, boasting of its good health, fine 
 water and good morals — a strong prohibition senti- 
 ment prevailing. After they had taught a school 
 successfully for a couple of years, AUie Jones, a Bap- 
 tist deacon, made a speech like this to his fellow Bap- 
 tists : "This is a Baptist community. If there is 
 to be a high school here, why should it not be a Bap- 
 tist school? We have the money and the pupils. The 
 surroundinng country is Baptist, too. We have no 
 objection to the Methodists having a school where 
 they will, but we must have a Baptist School in New- 
 ton." That speech was enough. The money was 
 raised. A. W. Tate, a born teacher, was employed, 
 and a school started. Finally the Methodists sold out 
 their property and the Baptists have a great school 
 there now. Before anybody calls that mean in the 
 Baptists, I advise them to think. If the statement of 
 the Brother in his speech is correct, it was all that 
 was left for the ^Baptists to do. For years Tate main- 
 tained a first-class school, belonging to the Newton 
 church. Finally it was given to the Baptist State 
 Convention. I could write a book about its misfor- 
 tunes, but it has battled along in spite of fires and 
 finances and will live to bless not only that section, 
 but the wide world. 
 
 At one time, almost every public school teacher 
 in half a dozen counties in that section, was a Newton 
 trained student. The leaders in many of the churches 
 including the preachers, got their training there. As 
 a feeder to Howard and Judson, it has demonstrated 
 its value. Some of the best preachers of the denomi- 
 nation, graduating later at the Howard, got their in- 
 spiration at Newton — W. P. Wilkes, W. H. Tew, J. 
 Allen Smith, the Williams boys, three of them, and 
 many others. A. W. Tate, the founder of Newton 
 
318 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 School, had sympathy for poor boys and girls. If 
 they had no money, but were ambitious, he managed 
 somehow to keep them in School. The Secondary 
 Christian Schools should be encouraged. The future 
 of denominational life depends upon them. Our lead- 
 ers better ponder that suggestion well. 
 
 Of all the towns, some of them fast growing into 
 cities, in South Alabama, I could write a story, for 
 I have knoAvn most of them from their beginning. 
 
 The policy of the Board has been to look after the 
 centers. That is the New Testament way. Indeed, it 
 is the only way. The plan for strong men to be sup- 
 ported at the centers, extending their influence and 
 the influences of their churches out into the sur- 
 rounding country, cannot be improved upon. It al- 
 ways works out successfully if the right men are 
 secured and if they remain long enough to make 
 themselves felt. The spirit of change in the people, or 
 in the preacher, makes changes that are hurtful to 
 the cause. True, sometimes a church in the center 
 may become a menace to the churches in the country, 
 but that is seldom the case. 
 
 The best possible work for the Boards to do for 
 the country churches is through Colportage and 
 Evangelism. 
 
 P. L. Mosley — Everybody calls him "Pope" — is yet 
 in active work, but I must say something about him. 
 He was baptized by B. H. Crumpton into the fellow- 
 ship of old Providence in Dallas. His mother and 
 sisters were members but his father was a good- 
 natured Hardshell . Pope attended Howard Col- 
 lege and then went to Covington County. He 
 has been one of the most useful and widely 
 known men in that section. He was sent by 
 his County to the State Senate once, where 
 he served well his people. He occasionally goes to the 
 State Convention, but for the most part his ministry 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 319 
 
 has been confined to a few Counties in this section. 
 He knows the Bible and probably uses it more freely 
 in preaching than any man in the State. His ministry 
 has been eminently successful in building up churches 
 and he has, in the main, "lived of the Gospel." Raised 
 a Hardshell, he has been skittish on the subject of 
 money. "I preach missions and the duty to give 
 money," he often said to me. But I replied, "You 
 don't take collections and introduce money collect- 
 ing methods." How many preachers I have known 
 to do like Pope. 
 
 What Pope lacked along this line, maybe he made 
 up in others, so there may be an evening up with us 
 all, at the last. His old Hardshell father and I were 
 great friends. Once I put it to him this way : "You 
 are a Missionary and Pll prove it and make you ac- 
 knowledge it. The Foreign Mission Journal, your 
 children bring home every month. You are a read- 
 ing man. I am sure you sometimes read it. When 
 you read of a missionary attending the bedside of a 
 converted heathen and seeing him die like Christians 
 die, aren't you glad?" His reply was: "I don't be- 
 lieve everything I see in the Furrin Mission Journal." 
 "Well," I said, "Pll put it this way: You wouldn't ever 
 hear me preach if you did not believe I was truthful. 
 Suppose I should go to China and after a term of 
 years, I should come here and spend the day with 
 you. Of course, I would tell you much of my work. 
 Suppose I tell you of the Chinese hearing the very 
 same gospel I preach here at Providence. It affects 
 them just the same as it does here. Some reject it, 
 but some accept it, relate an experince of trust in 
 the finished work of Jesus Christ. I watch their lives 
 and they are as consistent as Christians here. Finally, 
 I tell of some of them dying, rejoicing in the hope. 
 Honest Injun, wouldn't you be glad?" Drawling out 
 his "Y — e — s," haltingly, I said: "Come out of that 
 
320 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 and give me a straight out, honest yes," and out it 
 came : "Yes, of course, I would." 
 
 I said: "A rose smells as sweet, called by some 
 other name ; you may call that what you please, but I 
 call it the missionary spirit." And so it was with this 
 good man, though he was loth to acknowledge it. 
 
 A Christian must be, will be, can't keep from being, 
 a missionary. 
 
 Alexander T. Sims is another man yet living of whom 
 I must say a word. For straight-along, consistent, 
 consecrated work in the Ministry, he will measure up 
 with the best. Born in Butler county in 1849, con- 
 verted at seventeen, he began preaching at twenty. 
 He didn't attend College, but he either got with good 
 teachers or mastered books at home, for he had a 
 command of good English, far above the average. A 
 singular thing is related about his birth. His father, 
 who was not a Christian, after a severe spell of sick- 
 ness, was brought back from the gates of death and 
 told his wife that her next child should be a boy, be- 
 come a public man and would bring a great blessing 
 in some way to him. The faithfulness of the boy to 
 his church, walking for miles to the service, and his 
 consistent life, impressed the father and led him to 
 Christ. J. C. Jones, father of Dr. C. C. Jones of East 
 Lake, was missionary of the Pine Barren Association. 
 Under his preaching A. T. Sims became a Christian. 
 Three years later he became a preacher and fell into a 
 fine field, his home church. Forest Home, being one of 
 them. It was entirely a country field, and for ten 
 years he remained on his job, baptizing hundreds into 
 the membership of the churches. When W. G. Curry, 
 one of the State Board's EvangeHsts, resigned, he rec- 
 ommended Sims, who for eleven years traveled nine 
 counties in Alabama and three in Florida. Surely the 
 father's prophecy before his birth was fulfilled; the 
 boy had proven "a great blessing" to the father and 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 321 
 
 was much of "a public man." Some of the quotations 
 from his diary sound much like the incidents related 
 in the New Testament. Here is one : "During the 
 past month I have been laboring in a semi-heathen 
 section of country, bordering the Gulf of Mexico. The 
 work assumed a revival character at a number of 
 places and I am happy to report that more than fifty 
 souls have been saved in the meetings held." 
 
 "Fifteen came out on the Lord's side at Milligan, 
 Florida. . The work here owes its success mainly to 
 the devotion and skill of one Christian lady." 
 
 "At Rocky Bayou, a Sunday School was organized 
 and equipped. A converted sailor was made Superin- 
 tendent, who gave every cent of money, $3, he had 
 to purchase the supplies. The story of this once des- 
 perately wicked sailor is too interesting to be omitted. 
 He owned a schooner. One day while encountering 
 a severe gale, he was giving vent to most horrible 
 oaths as usual. A flash of lightning tore into splinters 
 the foremast of his boat. This only increased his 
 rage and in his blindness he began to curse his Maker. 
 An angry thunderbolt tore into atoms the mainmast 
 and dashed the blasphemer helpless and unconscious 
 down upon the deck. When consciousness returned, 
 terrified and alarmed, he cried for mercy. He who 
 never denies mercy to the penitent sinner, heard his 
 cry and granted pardon and salvation, to his man 
 who is now a burden-bearing Christian." Better still 
 grows the story: A few years later the missionary 
 returned to Rocky Bayou. He found that the con- 
 verted sailor went from the superintendency of the 
 Sunday School into the ministry. 
 
 Old home ties called Sims, after his long service 
 with the Board, back to his old range where for a 
 time he served Forest Home and Pine Apple. Later 
 for six years he was pastor at Prattville and while 
 
322 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 there the splendid structure where the church now 
 worships, was erected. 
 
 Numbers of churches in South Alabama and Flor- 
 ida have been blessed with his ministrations. Not 
 many men have baptized more converts than has Sims. 
 In all the work of the denomination his heart has 
 beat true and his helping hand has been cheerfully 
 extended. What a tower of strength he has been 
 and how he will be missed when God calls him ! 
 
 See how God works ! A country Association sends 
 out a missionary, maybe for only a few months ; a mod- 
 est, unpretentious soul was he. He was to bring into 
 the kingdom, forces that should carry it on after he 
 is gone. One of his converts, a modest boy, in a 
 little while takes up his task and outstrips the man 
 who called him in. Later, another servant comes 
 along and is used to put him in a larger work — so it 
 goes on from generation to generation. 
 
 The Lord be praised for the like of this good man ! 
 He is now in Florida, doubtless doing as good work 
 as in any period of his life. 
 
 FIFTY YEARS IN THE MINISTRY will soon be 
 recorded of him. What currents he has set going in 
 that half century for God and humanity ! 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 Bethlehem Association was the first Association in 
 the state. It covered pretty much all of South Ala- 
 bama. My first visit was after it had become very 
 much reduced in size. It extended over what was to 
 be some of the finest territory in the State, covered 
 with pine forests : Conecuh, Monroe, Escambia and 
 Baldwin counties. 
 
 The Moderator, whom I knew well, was a little cut- 
 ting in his remarks in introducing me. Said he : 
 "Brother Crumpton is our Corresponding Secretary. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 323 
 
 I am glad he has found us out and come into this much 
 neglected spot in Alabama. We have not received 
 the attention we deserve, but now he is here, I hope 
 he will find out something about us." Of course, that 
 sort of talk, brought on more talk. I explained, for 
 one thing, I had never heard from this awfully neg- 
 lected spot and was never invited to come and see. 
 I don't usually wait for invitations, but when a man 
 has more places to go than is possible, it is very nat- 
 ural for him to decide on those places where he has 
 been informed about. I doubt not I would have been 
 here earlier if I could have seen a letter on my desk 
 from the Moderator, or some interested brother, ask- 
 ing me to make a visit here." The Moderator squirm- 
 ed while I was speaking, but said little in reply. 
 
 When I was through, a fine looking, handsome old 
 man arose, shook my hand cordially and said : "I for 
 one am proud to greet the Secretary and I am sure 
 I voice the sentiment of every delegate in the house. 
 We know what a task is his and feel sure he is doing 
 all in his power to meet the demands upon him. I 
 want to tell you, Brother Secretary, there is not a 
 foot of destitution in all this territory, that cannot 
 be met by preachers of this Association, if they will 
 take hold of it. I don't want to brag on myself, but 
 use my habit only as an illustration. I am serving 
 four churches and preaching to several mission sta- 
 tions, as I go and come from my appointments. I 
 take them in, Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday 
 afternoons. In the summer I hold meetings at these 
 points and several churches are represented here 
 which were built up just that way. That was all done 
 without one cent of expense from the Mission Board." 
 That preacher proved to be Brother J. A. Lambert. 
 What a man was he, all the days of his useful life ! 
 The Moderator remarked after that speech : "I am 
 not going to do that sort of work without pay." 
 
324 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Lambert's ponies were known far and near and 
 they wheeled the old man about all over Baldwin 
 and Monroe counties. 
 
 His son, Shomore, has been just as consecrated as 
 his father, except he has served as County Superin- 
 tendent of Education, which has prevented his giving 
 his whole time to the work. 
 
 Father Robert Carson, when I was a boy, had about 
 quit preaching, but his life was unblemished, and he 
 was held in high esteem. J. E. Barnes, now pastor 
 of the Central Church in Mobile, a most useful preach- 
 er, is his grandson. 
 
 A story is told of Father Carson when he was pas- 
 tor of Town Creek church. Its membership was 
 large, composed mostly of planters, most of whom 
 owned slaves. At an October meeting, the pastor an- 
 nounced before adjournment: "Brethren, I feel the 
 Spirit of the Lord is with us, and I feel impelled to 
 begin a meeting tomorrow, so let everybody arrange 
 to come for two services a day for the next week." 
 The members were taken by surprise. The fields were 
 white with cotton, and everybody rushing to get the 
 great crop taken care of before the severe weather of 
 winter could come on. Old Deacon Freeman Hardy, 
 after dismission, was the first to protest against the 
 unheard of thing. No one ever heard of a meeting 
 except in the Summer, after the crops were laid by. 
 "All right," was the quiet remark of the old pastor, 
 in reply to the rather hot remarks of the deacon. "We 
 would be glad to see all, if they can come. If they 
 cannot come, we hope they will pray for us." Next 
 morning, every negro and the sons of the deacon 
 went into the cotton field, and the deacon had the 
 pouts. He told about it later. "When I rode out into 
 the plantation, somehow my horse's head turned 
 toward the church. At 11 o'clock I hitched at the 
 accustomed swinging limb and walked into the church 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 325 
 
 out of humor. Father Carson was never a great 
 preacher, but it seemed to me his sermon was espe- 
 cially good. I told the boys that night, to get out 
 early in the morning and pick cotton, one of them to 
 come back in time to drive their mother and sisters 
 to the church in the carriage, and the others to go 
 on horseback. The meeting was better that day. 
 That night I sent word to all the negroes to get out 
 early next morning and pick cotton until about 10 
 o'clock, then run to their cabins, put on clean clothes, 
 and go to church, getting back in the afternoon as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 From the start, the meeting was a revival. The 
 preacher was right: "The Lord was there." The 
 oldest inhabitant in the Town Creek neighborhood 
 will tell you, it was the greatest meeting ever held. 
 Brother Hardy's children were all converted and a 
 great number of his slaves. I relate this remarkable 
 instance to impress the thought : There is a time when 
 the Lord is present with His people, though nothing 
 human seems to indicate it, and at such time, the 
 leader may confidently put in motion such agencies 
 as he may have and the Lord will not disappoint him. 
 Matthew Bishop, of Lowndes County was one of the 
 first graduates of Howard College. Settling on the 
 farm, maybe as the owner of a few slaves, he served 
 churches in Lowndes, Dallas, Butler and Montgomery 
 Counties. He easily became a leading figure in the 
 Alabama Association. He was a Baptist of the deep- 
 est dye and gave the Pedo Baptists much trouble, 
 whose logic they were unable to withstand. David 
 Lee, later known as "Father Lee," for many years 
 Moderator of the Alabama Association, set the pace 
 for all the country preachers as to manner of life. 
 He was a crack farmer and they followed in his 
 wake ; he preached without salary — serving old Hope- 
 well (Mt. Willing) 35 years without a cent of remu- 
 
326 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 neration. After the war, which brought freedom to 
 the slaves, probably Brother Bishop got his consent 
 to accept a salary, but it was very small. The Civil 
 War brought other changes: The delegates could not 
 give the time for the long trips, so new and smaller 
 Associations began to be formed. The Montgom- 
 ery, Selma, Butler and finally Crenshaw came out, 
 almost breaking up the old Alabama. After Brother 
 Lee passed away, Brother Bishop was re-enforced 
 by the ordination of Brother George McQueen, a good 
 deacon, who owned a good farm. More than once 
 I heard it said : "Brother Bishop spoiled a good dea- 
 con in making Brother George a preacher." They be- 
 came yoke fellows in the Association. Brother Mc- 
 Queen developed into a good preacher, universally 
 loved. 
 
 Under the influence of a layman or two, who had 
 studied politics, the Alabama fell out with T. M. 
 Bailey and the State Board of Missions. They were 
 in this state of opposition when I became Secretary 
 of the Board. When I announced my purpose to 
 visit their next session, a brother protested that they 
 had treated my predecessor badly, had passed some 
 ugly resolutions against co-operation and probably 
 their fire would be turned against me. On the theory 
 that it was my business to find the reasons for oppo- 
 sition and if possible remove them, I went. The 
 preachers who were bell-weathers, were too good to 
 cherish malice — fact is, I think they had been on the 
 lookout for a good place to get down on the right side 
 of the fence. I was welcomed and given a good hear- 
 ing and ever after had the hand of welcome. As I 
 write these lines, January 20, 1920, I call to mind 
 the sad events of last fall. October 10, 11 and 12 
 were the days selected for the 100th anniversary of 
 the Old Alabama. I had encouraged the brethren to 
 undertaken the celebration at Spring Bank. I was 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 327 
 
 there on the 10th and 11th. Secretary Yarborough 
 was scheduled for Sunday, the great day of the feast. 
 The Moderator was to be present as custodian of all 
 the historical information, which had been entrusted 
 to him. But alas, all these plans went wrong. There 
 was not a preacher on the ground to meet the largest 
 congregation that had ever assembled. Only Jake 
 Bishop, a son of Matthew, one of the old leaders, 
 talked of the long ago. There is not an ordained 
 preacher living within the bounds of the Association 
 and the consuming question is : "Shall we break up 
 the Old Alabama?" A question easier asked than 
 answered. If the old heroes, who lived and wrought 
 and suffered for the kingdom, in the Old Alabama, in 
 the past century could be written up, it would be 
 a story worth reading. Unfortunately, material that 
 was gotten first and last, was never preserved. More 
 than once Brother David Lee was said to possess val- 
 uable matter which the Association had asked of him, 
 but it disappeared with its author. A sad thing about 
 it is : Baptists are no more inclined today than in 
 past years to value historic matter. Numbers of 
 times I have written leaders of churches and Associa- 
 tions, begging them to observe suitably approaching 
 centennials, but in most cases it elicited no interest. 
 Brother William Prichett, I became acquainted with 
 at Aberfoil, Bullock Co. He was large of body and 
 of heart. In the early days, Salem Association cov- 
 ered most of Southeast Alabama and extended down 
 into Florida. Brother Prichett was employed jointly 
 by the Home Mission Board and his Association, to 
 spy out the land. Everybody was his friend, he was 
 welcomed into every home. While he was not a gifted 
 speaker he served as a connecting link between the 
 Missionary forces and the most distressingly needy 
 fields in the States. George Kierce was another faith- 
 ful one in the neighboring community with Brother 
 
328 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Prichett, but somewhat younger. He had seen more 
 of the world too. He was a Lieutenant at the siege 
 of Vicksburg. The stories they could tell about the 
 ravages of sin and the power of the Gospel in a 
 wretchedly poor and ignorant country were equal 
 to the New Testament stories. Old and crippled, 
 Brother Kierce adhered to the purpose of preparing a 
 story of his life. This, I encouraged him to do, and, 
 probably a year before his death, his purpose was ac- 
 complished. I made the contract with the printers, 
 read the proof and the old man lived to see many of 
 his booklets in the hands of the people. The Baptists 
 in Southeast and South Alabama and Northern Florida 
 now occupy the most flourishing section of the State, 
 little dreaming of what they owe to these old pioneer 
 heroes, who, against terrific odds, represented their 
 cause in these parts. Their preaching would not be 
 tolerated today, but their childish simplicity, their lov- 
 ing heart-service and their endurance for the gos- 
 pel's sake won the people of that day and the results 
 are glorious. 
 
 Coming back to my old stamping ground I speak 
 of Miles McWilliams, the man who baptized me. I 
 was only a thoughtless boy in those days and knew 
 but little of him. I saw him at the monthly meet- 
 ings, when he came from his farm, about six miles 
 away, to old Friendship at, what is now. Pine Apple. 
 At the annual protracted meeting he baptized my fa- 
 ther, two sisters, a brother and myself. It was prob- 
 ably in 1855. The pastor's plantation was near Mc- 
 Williams station, named in his honor. Saturday be- 
 fore the fourth Sunday was the conference day, when 
 business was attended to. For the most part, this 
 consisted in trying to keep the run of the brethren. 
 If one failed to be present at the business meeting two 
 Saturdays, a committee was appointed to wait on 
 him. After preaching on that day, generally the 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 329 
 
 preacher returned home and came back on Sunday 
 morning. If the weather was fine, great congrega- 
 tions filled the house. There was no thought of a 
 Sunday School, or Prayer Meeeting, or a mission 
 collection. To have mentioned them would have met 
 with serious objection, insistence would have split the 
 Church. 
 
 Brother McWilliams was, I am sure, above the 
 average preacher of his day in preaching ability. His 
 field of labor, I guess extended many miles around him. 
 The same old building is standing today at Pine Apple, 
 only changed around, ceiled and painted. It is a mile or 
 more from the village, the most of the people live 
 there and beyond. Every time they have a new preach- 
 er the question of removal comes up, but unless a 
 cyclone or fire intervenes, the graveyard will hold 
 it till Gabriel blows his trumpet. 
 
 D. W. Ramsey: The long-time pastor is the next I 
 mention. He w^as the son of a fervent Methodist 
 preacher at Oak Hill. He married the daughter of 
 J. R. Hawthorn, of Pine Apple. 
 
 In his younger days, he had fallen into an ugly 
 habit, which was a great handicap to him in after 
 years, being doubtless the cause of his extreme nerv- 
 ousness. No one except a conscientious, sensitive 
 soul like his, can enter fully into sympathy with his 
 sufferings, but he was a man, and fought it out w^ith 
 God, and through grace overcame. 
 
 He was for many years Moderator of the Pine Bar- 
 ren Association. It w^as in this capacity I knew him 
 best. When I was Secretary of the Mission Board, 
 I called the Pine Barren "My Home Association" and 
 tried to attend regularly its annual sessions. 
 
 To a stranger, one would have taken the Moderator 
 to be offensively harsh. He didn't mind snapping a 
 speaker off in a brusque way ; but the brethren loved 
 him, and were ready to excuse his every fault. It 
 
330 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 was beautiful to see their patience and forebearance. 
 
 He was faithful to the work of the ministry as 
 long as he could reach his appointments. He was a 
 physician in the beginning of his ministry, but for 
 most part he gave his best service to the work of 
 the ministry. 
 
 I must name the preacher I knew first, in the be- 
 ginning of my care of churches. Without education 
 himself, he believed in and encouraged Minis- 
 terial Education. The educated, who had the good 
 fortune to come in contact with him, loved to sit at 
 his feet and learn wisdom. The most interesting 
 character I ever knew was — 
 
 Uncle Johnnie Dennis. He was a member of 
 Providence church, when I became its pastor — my 
 first pastorate. His one book had been his Bible. He 
 knew it; most of it he could quote, giving chapter 
 and verse. When in the homes, at family worship, 
 he "read the Scripture," as he said, without opening 
 the book. UnHke most old men, he was confiding, 
 not the least sensitive, or suspicious. "A preacher 
 for sixty years" is on the tombstone, kindly erected by 
 the members of Providence Church. 
 
 He often spoke affectionately of his wife, Peggy, 
 who preceded him to the better land. 
 
 A young preacher is fortunate to have an old Saint 
 like that in his church, in the beginning of his minis- 
 try. He had no children, no home, but every home in 
 the country was open to him whenever he wished to 
 enter. As long as he could attend church, he walked 
 into the pulpit and sat with his head resting on his 
 stick, throughout the service. It was a great pleasure 
 to hear him pray. He had a way of approving : "That's 
 so," he'd say, as the sermon advanced. A preacher 
 once remarked: That some had advanced the idea 
 that the Lord intended Paul to take the place of Ju- 
 das, and that maybe Peter, with his usual impetuosity, 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 331 
 
 was a little previous in having Matthias elected, 
 whereupon Uncle John, sitting behind the preacher, 
 was heard to say, "Oh, Pshaw !" 
 
 On my last visit to him, feeling that I'd never see 
 him again, I said: "Uncle John, if I never see you 
 again, I want to know what you have to say about 
 your future." He looked steadily into my face and 
 said: "I can't say I have no fear, for I can't keep from 
 just a little bit dreading the last struggle, but don't 
 you reckon, when the time comes, He will give me 
 overcoming grace for that, like He has always done. I 
 have no fears about what is to come over yonder." 
 
 "All's right over there." The old Saint fell asleep 
 in his ninetieth year. 
 
 J. H. Creighton, one of our most faithful pullers in 
 Clarke County, has just passed away. For many years 
 he was the very efficient clerk of his Association. An 
 old Confederate, who loved to wear the Grey, a most 
 useful citizen and a faithful preacher. He was con- 
 tent to work without complaint, in any field to which 
 he might be called. He never sought a place beyond 
 his capacity to fill well. He was not an attractive 
 talker, but he had a clear mind, a good heart and 
 was familiar with the old doctrines. His ministra- 
 tions in the homes, were his best work. He loved 
 good people, loved to entertain them in his home and 
 haul the traveling preacher, or Secretary about the 
 country. His heart beat true to every interest of 
 the denomination. Clarke County has had more bril- 
 liant men and men with more wealth, but it never 
 had a better man, a more generous man never lived, 
 as far as his means would allow. He filled well his 
 humble place and all the Association will mourn his 
 loss. 
 
 L. L. Fox, of Marengo County, reared in Louisa 
 County, Virginia, born in 1814. He was well trained, 
 but hard work had to be done to accomplish it. He 
 
332 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 studied at night after a hard day at work. Later he 
 had three years in schools. He came to Alabama in 
 '46 and was pastor at Uniontown until '65. He was 
 small of stature, a forcible speaker, usually using a 
 Manuscript. I knew him in the seventies at McKin- 
 ley. All over Marengo County and down into Clarke, 
 his ministerial labors extended. He had a cultivated 
 wife ; they left some noble daughters. He picked out 
 a number of his best Manuscripts to be issued in book 
 form, if his family and friends thought well of it. 
 I do not know if an effort was ever made to carry 
 out his wishes. In the days of which I write, much 
 store was put on preaching. Brother Fox ranked high 
 along that line, but his diminutive size and a rather 
 cracked voice, prevented his attaining distinction. 
 Over a County, with the worst roads in the State, he 
 suffered without a murmur and with little pay for 
 years — though it is probable, his compensation was 
 better than most men as he had no farm and "lived 
 of the Gospel" more than any of his brethren. 
 
 Evergreen, one of the few towns on the L. & N. 
 that never received aid from the Board, will live in 
 the hearts of the Baptists of Alabama as the seat of 
 the Orphanage. The Baptists there have cherished 
 the Institution through the years and deserve the 
 thanks of the denomination. As one of the committee 
 that had to do with the location of the Orphanage, I 
 will say, now that it is to be moved, I believed we 
 were locating it in a county filled with Baptist church- 
 es. It was some years before I found that the County 
 was not densely populated and the Baptists were 
 not strong. It goes now to Pike, where they are more 
 numerous ; it remains to be seen if the Institution 
 fares any better there. Eternity only will disclose 
 how it has blessed the world at its old home. 
 
 One thing can be said by all: John Stewart, its 
 father, has been faithful. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 333 
 
 Many a man and woman even now, rises up to call 
 him blessed. Reared a poor boy on a farm, in a re- 
 mote section, where there were few advantages, by 
 hard work and perseverance, he graduated from 
 Howard and the Seminary and with a great 
 loving heart he dedicated all his life and powers to 
 the work of His Master. ''Well done," the Lord will 
 say to John at the last. 
 
 Of the South Alabama Country I can predict, with 
 confidence, from the Mississippi to the Georgia line, 
 it is destined to be a great agricultural country. The 
 soil is capable of producing almost any thing that 
 grows out of the ground and, with much of the South, 
 it hold almost a monopoly of the leading crops, that 
 the world must have. Besides, it has been demon- 
 strated that stock can be raised more cheaply than 
 elsewhere. 
 
 CHAPTER 9. 
 
 Mobile, Alabama's only seaport, is growing now 
 more rapidly than ever in its past history. There is 
 frequent talk of adding Pensacola and West Florida 
 to Alabama, which ought to have been done at first; 
 but Mobile and its friends, will never allow that. Ala- 
 bama's seaport has been somewhat cut off from the 
 balance of the State by the wide stretches of timber 
 lands lying north of it, but now the "cut over land" 
 is being occupied and is destined to support a dense 
 population. Mobile Baptists, with the growth of the 
 city, are growing too. Some laymen I know were 
 a great force, the Bush family among them. 
 
 Probably as early as 1850, A. P. Bush moved from 
 Pickens County to Mobile. His name at once became 
 known among the business men at that early day. 
 His boys, J. Curtis and Thomas Green, were destined 
 to be widely known in the business world and the af- 
 
334 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 fairs of the State. They were both graduated at the 
 University of Mississippi. J. C, the older, once mayor 
 of Mobile, was always among the leaders in business 
 affairs. Green, when a boy, commandant of the cad- 
 ets at the University of Alabama, while yet a boy-sol- 
 dier, joined the Confederate army and in the Battle of 
 Blakely, was taken prisoner. In Mobile, Anniston and 
 Birmingham he was prominent among men in busness 
 enterprises. I doubt if any man in the State ever 
 held more responsible positions than T. G. Bush. But 
 above all, the father and sons were loyal to their 
 church. In Mobile they were the mainstay of their 
 Baptist cause in a financial way. Faithful in attend- 
 ance on the services, loyal to the pastor, their influ- 
 ence was felt for good on every side. Their liberality 
 grew as the years went by. Much of their treasure 
 was given, which is registered only in heaven. J. C. 
 was known as a princely giver while he lived and, it 
 was found after his death, he had remembered Christ, 
 his best Friend, in his Will. His bequests to all the 
 Schools and the Boards were liberal indeed — $10,000 
 to the State Mission Board went largely into the 
 building in Montgomery where I am now writing. 
 In front of the building is hanging a sign : 
 
 "BAPTIST HEADQUARTERS 
 
 J. CURTIS BUSH 
 
 MEMORIAL" 
 
 Another Memorial is in China, in a Hospital, and 
 yet another at the Orphanage : The Bush Cottage. 
 
 His last contribution made it possible for the Bap- 
 tists in Mobile to erect a magnificent Temple on 
 Government Street, where for many generations the 
 Baptists will worship. The younger brother, T. G., 
 in the midst of great business and Christian activi- 
 ties, died suddenly in Birmingham. 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 335 
 
 D. P. Bestor, a great lawyer, the son of a Baptist 
 preacher who figured conspicuously in the early days 
 of the Baptists in North Alabama, finally becoming 
 pastor of St. Francis Street — now the First Church 
 in Mobile. He was proud of his church and was ever 
 ready to stand with the most liberal in the support 
 of the denominational interests. 
 
 Judge R. L. Maupin, another layman, who led the 
 forces in Mobile. Moderator of the Association for 
 some years, a deacon and Sunday School Superintend- 
 ent, indeed ready to work wherever he was called 
 upon. He had lost an arm before the Civil War, but 
 out in Missouri, his native State, he joined the Con- 
 federate Cavalry. It required courage and daring to 
 be a soldier there. He was too modest to tell about his 
 exploits. He could easily have made a book filled 
 with his thrilling experiences. He was a cattle man 
 and died only a little while back, owning a great cattle 
 interests in Mississippi. 
 
 W. A. Alexander, a deacon of the First Church, a 
 Scotchman, was one of the faithful who never missed 
 an Association. He was Moderator for several years. 
 His will bequeathed a considerable sum to the 
 Lord's Cause ; but alas ; a contest was threat- 
 ened and our Boards refused to go into the 
 Courts. This emphasizes the suggestion made 
 elsewhere : "Administer on your own estate 
 while alive and in your right mind." I have mentioned 
 only six of the royal men who figured in Baptist af- 
 fairs in the Gulf City. I can mention only one more, 
 Dr. T. H. Frazier, the beloved physician and Sunday 
 School Superintendent, who passed away only a little 
 while ago, leaving the whole city in tears. A multi- 
 tude of others have figured in the ongoing of the 
 Kingdom, whose name are recorded in the archives in 
 the Better Land. 
 
336 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 Mobile Baptists have been honored by the Mis- 
 sionaries who represent them on the Foreign Field. I 
 have spoken of them in another place. 
 
 W. J. E. Cox, just passed away, in his home in Bir- 
 mingham, after waiting in much suffering, for the 
 summons of the Master, was for some years the effi- 
 cient pastor of the old St. Francis, now the First 
 Church. He served the church faithfully and well, 
 and all of South Alabama felt the influence of his 
 ministry, for his love of evangelism led him to give 
 much of his time to work outside of his field. He 
 made a great contribution to missionary work when 
 his lovely daughter became the wife of Dr. Adrian 
 Taylor and went away to China. A brave thing Cox did 
 while pastor in Mobile, a Catholic city. He preached 
 a series of sermons, to full houses in that city, on Ca- 
 tholicism. These sermons were printed in book form. 
 Not many pastors attack error in these days, indeed, 
 the bulk of the membership don't want them to do it, 
 but to be faithful, he must inform his people. It is 
 no unkindness to deal out facts of history in the 
 proper spirit. The truth about Catholicism needs to 
 be known. Wherever it is known, it kills them for 
 all time with thinking people. 
 
 H. P. Hansen was an interesting character in the 
 Ministry of Mobile Association. He lived far down 
 in Baldwin County, only a few miles above Fort Mor- 
 gan, at Shell Bank. He was a Dane and was proud 
 of his Country. After making a missionary speech, 
 on one occasion, telling about William Cary, after 
 many disappointments, finally sailing to India in a 
 Danish vessel. Brother Hanson said: "Brudder Crump- 
 ton, ven you dells de peoples about Villiam Cary go- 
 ing out in a Danish vessel, del dem de name was 
 'Princess Maria.' " He pronounced the name with 
 such a rich, musical accent, it caught me and I said: 
 "Brother, I am glad you reminded me of it. If my 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 337 
 
 wife ever presents me with another girl baby, I think 
 I shall insist on its being named 'Princess Maria.' " 
 
 It was about his place, Bro. W. G. Curry, when one 
 of the Board's evangelists, got a boy to go with him to 
 get some oysters. After the preacher had pretty 
 well filled up on raw oysters on the half shell, they 
 took some to the house to be cooked. The good wo- 
 man of the home took special pains to prepare them 
 for the preacher. While he was eating, the mother 
 stepped into the kitchen, when the boy slipped up and 
 said: "Look here preacher, dad bum your old hide, 
 don't you eat all of them oysters, I helped you git 'em." 
 Curry, the most modest fellow in the world, loved to 
 tell the story as long as he lived. 
 
 T. E. Tucker was an old hero who lived and died at 
 Healing Springs. He \vas the ruling spirit in the Anti- 
 och Association, covering Washington and Choctaw 
 counties. A grim old Confederate soldier was he. I 
 always pictured him as a soldier, a man of frail build, 
 stoop shouldered, with determined face and clenched 
 teeth, with gun in hand and fixed bayonet, in a charge. 
 I am sure, if I were on the other side and my gun 
 empty, that face, coming after me would paralyze me 
 with fear and I'd surrender. That determined look 
 wasn't put on — it was born with him and character- 
 ized his life as a citizen and a preacher. That grim 
 face, when it was lighted with a smile, as it easily be- 
 came, when he met his brethren, was a benediction. 
 
 As a preacher he had no superior in all that region, 
 yet he had the most humble opinion of his ability. For 
 a time, like all the other preachers, he farmed, making 
 it his main dependence for a living, but towards the 
 close of his ministry, he taught the churches their duty 
 and received a more comfortable support. He was a 
 thorough missionary and stood four square on all the 
 activities of the denomination and every moral ques- 
 tion before the people. No representative of any in- 
 
338 A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 
 
 terest of the Convention ever attended his Associa- 
 tion and failed to receive a glad welcome. In those 
 days a $100 collection was considered good, after a 
 Missionary sermon. Tucker was the first, when op- 
 portunity was given, to sing out his gift and it was 
 always liberal. Frequently the sum was larger than 
 the figures named and was certain to be, if he was on 
 the floor manipulating the drive. He and S. O. Y. Ray 
 were true yoke-fellows, it was a joy to see them meet. 
 How they must enjoy one another now in the land of 
 rest! 
 
 Brother Tucker exalted the Preachers Institutes he 
 attended, for there he caught the vision that made 
 him a great force as a preacher. 
 
 H. M. Mason. Trained under this man is his wor- 
 thy successor in this very needy field. 
 
 Now I have swept with my story around the State. 
 Washington, one of the biggest counties, will be a 
 good one, with which to close. When I first knew 
 it, it was strictly one of the Pine Tree Counties of the 
 State. In one such County, at an Association, there 
 was a preacher who wanted to be a missionary. In 
 a speech, telling of the awful destitution he said : "You 
 may start from my house and go west for twenty- 
 eight miles, before you see a church and that is about 
 the case, go in whatever direction you may." All the 
 wind was taken out of his sails, when he was asked: 
 "How many houses will you see along the roads you 
 mention ? Aren't they almost as scarce as the church- 
 es?" He was entirely correct about the destiution — 
 the County was destitute of most everything, except 
 pine trees. Washington is now almost destitute of 
 pine trees and the "cut over land," awaits the coming 
 of the home-seeking multitudes. Brother J. B. Ham- 
 berlin, when pastor of a Mobile church, went, in a run 
 down condition, to Healing Springs. Drinking the 
 healing waters and bathing his one eye, dangerously 
 
A BOOK OF MEMORIES. 339 
 
 inflamed, he "came seeing." He saw visions of the 
 disappearing- pine forests and the coming multitudes. 
 He purchased land and induced the Antioch Associa- 
 tion to undertake the establishment of "The Healing 
 Springs Industrial Academy." After struggling along 
 for years, it was given to the State Convention and 
 put under the Mission Board to operate. The vision 
 of its founder receded into the future and all efforts 
 to make it go on slender resources, failed. Finally the 
 property was deeded back to Mrs. Hamberlin. How- 
 ever, the effort was not in vain, for there are men and 
 women all over that country who are blessing the Lord 
 for what they got in the poor little school. Some first 
 class preachers were given to the denomination and 
 teachers, not a few, who got their inspiration there 
 and are serving well their communities. If the means 
 could have been secured, to put up the needed buildings 
 and maintained the school for a little while, a great 
 community could have been established. The school, 
 the health-giving water, the salubrious climate and the 
 light, free soil, would have brought a fine class of peo- 
 ple together. Indeed, Brother Hamberlin's dreams are 
 not impossible of fulfillment yet. 
 
 Closing. Among the pine stumps of this County, 
 with its honored name, Washington, I, Washington 
 Bryan Crumpton, close my Memories. It has been 
 a long time since I began to write them. Constant 
 interruptions, sometimes caused by sickness, have 
 greatly interfered. The preachers and laymen I have 
 written about were a grand body of men. How they 
 helped me ! God only knows how I appreciate it and 
 some sweet day, they will hear the : "Inasmuch as ye 
 have done it unto one of the least of these my Breth- 
 ren, ye did it unto me." Hundreds are yet alive, I want- 
 ed to speak of. Not many, there were, who were vicious 
 towards me. I can say, with all sincerity, I never cher- 
 ished any malice against them. I wasn't built that way. 
 
INDEX 
 
 PERIOD OF BOYHOOD TO EIGHTEEN-^ 
 
 From English-Irish Stock 3 
 
 Diagnose the Boy 5 
 
 Uncle Jim Andrews and His Slaves 7 
 
 First Religious Impressions 9 
 
 First Lesson about Horrors of Liquor Traffic 11 
 
 Move to Pine Apple 12 
 
 Death Invades the Home 13 
 
 Keeps Store 15 
 
 Moved to Cotton Farm 16 
 
 "Coin' to Meetin'" 18 
 
 First Vision of Outside World 20 
 
 Talk of War 21 
 
 PERIOD OF TRAVEL— 
 
 Hov^ I Began to Lecture 22 
 
 Saving New York City from Flames 24 
 
 Off to Sea 26 
 
 A Job as Hostler 28 
 
 First Lesson in Banking 30 
 
 "Hurrah for Jeff Davis" — didn't say it 33 
 
 Taking Back Track 35 
 
 "With Clenched Teeth Determined to go South" 37 
 
 Trip from North Began March 6, 1862 38 
 
 A Lesson in Shut Mouth 39 
 
 On Banks of the Mississippi 43 
 
 The Missouri Home Guards 45 
 
 "The Road Full of Yankees" 46 
 
 "Curious" and "Curiouser" Brothers 48 
 
 At "Uncle McCullough's" 50 
 
 In the Overflow 53 
 
 A Prisoner on Parole 56 
 
 Sick and Starving 59 
 
 Registered at Hotel like a Gentleman 62 
 
 Trip Ends April 23, 1862. 
 
 PERIOD OF CIVIL WAR— 
 
 Enlisted May 9, 1862 — a year late 66 
 
 First Battle September 19th 69 
 
 Made a Cut Off 70 
 
 Siege of Vicksburg 72 
 
 "Grape Vine" News 74 
 
 "Mister Yank, I Believe You Lied" 76 
 
 A Gala-Day in New Orleans 78 
 
 A Sure Cure for Sea-Sickness 79 
 
 The Trio Going to Marry 81 
 
 At Resaca, Georgia 82 
 
 A Hand-Full of Brains 85 
 
 Old "Bill Nick" 87 
 
 "Drunkenness and Foolhardiness" 89 
 
 Three Battles in One Week 91 
 
An Ail-Night March, Alone 93 
 
 A Slow Foot-Race With Bullets 94 
 
 Going Through Florence 95 
 
 Franklin and Nashville 96 
 
 A Dip on a Cold December Morning 98 
 
 A Cruel Joke on Homefolks 99 
 
 Hung on Iron Pickets at Columbus, Georgia 101 
 
 A Short-Lived Honor 103 
 
 CALL TO THE MINISTRY— 
 
 God's Folding-Doors 104 
 
 B. H .Crumpton and Jonathan Bell 105 
 
 The Way I Tell It 107 
 
 A Bolt Out of a Clear Sky 108 
 
 John Latimer, My Pastor 109 
 
 J. B. Hamberlin 111 
 
 God Kept Calling Until Fully Answered 113 
 
 "Let This Meeting Settle It" 115 
 
 To My Secularized Brother 116 
 
 PERIOD OF MY MINISTRY— 
 
 A Missionary in a Kentucky Association 117 
 
 After Eight Years Returns to Alabama 118 
 
 Old Providence became Home 119 
 
 Baptist Rallies Born There 120 
 
 A Farmer-Preacher 121-124 
 
 Begins to Get Acquainted 124 
 
 1874 the Year When Things Began to Move 125 
 
 Camden 127 
 
 T. M. Bailey 128-131 
 
 An Unrecorded Convention Sermon 133 
 
 My Ministry in Meridian, Miss. 134 
 
 Comfort From an Old Methodist 135 
 
 Incidents of Yellow Fever Epidemic 135-136 
 
 Five Weeks in the Saddle 137-138 
 
 The India Rubber Sermon 139 
 
 Nine Months' Report 140 
 
 Not a Soul-Saver the Grief of My Life 141 
 
 How I Came to Believe in the B. Y. P. U 142 
 
 MISCELLANEA— 
 
 The Story of My Father 143-145 
 
 In Kentucky 145 
 
 Another Chapter 146 
 
 The Gold, Silver and Whitsitt Controversies 148 
 
 Criticising the Pastor 149 
 
 A Kentucky Speech Tried on a Stingy Alabamian 149 
 
 My First and Last Religious Controversy 150-153 
 
 Au Autocratic Preacher in the Piney Woods 152 
 
 Repelled Attacks on Board 154-155 
 
 Great Women Workers 156-160 
 
 Missionaries and Medicals, I Have Known 160 163 
 
 First Attendance on Southern Bap. Convention__163-165 
 
 The Sad Story of Pelham 165-167 
 
 Bailey and Colportage 167-170 
 
 Make a Will, Do It Now 170-172 
 
 Howard College, the Last Half Century 173-183 
 
 The Hard Side 183-184 
 
 How a Missionarv Was Found 185 
 
Some Things An Alabama Girl Did in China 186-188 
 
 The Story of Prohibition 188-201 
 
 BAPTISTS OF TENNESSEE VALLEY AND THE 
 MOUNTAINS— 
 
 Beginnings of Alabama and Baptist History 202 
 
 School Property 204-205 
 
 A Remarkable Conversion 205 
 
 The Story of Florence 207-212 
 
 A Concrete Case for Inter and Federated Church 
 
 People 213-216 
 
 In a Mountain Association 217 
 
 One of My Sledge-Hammers 218 
 
 With C. W. Hare at Another Association 220-223 
 
 A Methodist Preacher's Remarks 223 
 
 Anniston a Gem of the Mountains 228 
 
 Gadsden Another Gem 230 
 
 Birmingham 238 
 
 The First Drive 238 
 
 BAPTISTS OF CENTRAL ALABAMA— 
 
 Great Wealth in Slaves 239 
 
 Great Advantages in Schools 
 
 The Story of the Paper 239 
 
 What the Board Did at Birmingham on the 
 
 Northern Border and at Montgomery, etc 
 
 The Sad Story of Greensboro 242 
 
 A Remarkable Tribute of Dr. Otts to the De- 
 ceased Pastor 244 
 
 A Good Man Making Race for Governor 253 
 
 Frost's Monument 257 
 
 "His Style of Preaching" 258 
 
 Becoming Secretary 259 
 
 A Strong Man Rattled by the Tenderfoots 260 
 
 Reminiscences Lost 261 
 
 The Champion for Ministerial Aid 262 
 
 The Centennial in 1876 — A Rich Man Ruined Our 
 
 Plans 266 
 
 A "Dry Bones" Sermon 271 
 
 An Association Most Honored 273 
 
 The Blacksmith's Accounts, scoured out 274 
 
 How Liquor Brought Poverty to One Home 275 
 
 Members Advised to Ask for Letters 278 
 
 God's Plans Dove-Tail Into Each Other 281 
 
 When Real Usefulness Begins with Preacher 116, 284, 287 
 
 Last Words 254-293 
 
 "We Won't and You Shan't" 295 
 
 Some Moderator was He 296 
 
 "Knowing a Thousand Things" and "Knowing 
 
 Something About a Thousand Things" 303 
 
 God inclines, but may be resisted 305 
 
 BAPTISTS OF SOUTH ALABAMA— 
 
 Bethlehem the First Association 306 
 
 Baptists Abound in Wiregrass and all South Ala. 306 
 
 Baptist Congress at Troy 306 
 
 When I Was Inspired 308 
 
 Beginning of Dothan 155 
 
 A Set-Back at a Baptist Rally 310 
 
The Secretary's Vision 311 
 
 My First $1000 Check 313 
 
 "Ten Cents a Head" 314 
 
 Accused of Runnning from a Collection — but — „ 315 
 
 Newton the Gem of the Wiregrass 316 
 
 Tate a Born Teacher 317 
 
 Secondary Schools Most Important 318 
 
 My Old Hardshell Friend 319 
 
 New Testament Evangelism 321 
 
 Taken to Task by a Moderator 323 
 
 A Good Deacon Blessed in Spite of the Pout«__ 324 
 Pastor Thirty-five Years and Received Not a Cent 324 
 Secretary's Business to Find out Reasons for Op- 
 position 326 
 
 "Overcoming Grace at the last" 331 
 
 Evergreen and the Orphanage 332 
 
 A Brave Pastor in Mobile 336 
 
 "Preacher, Dad Burn Your Old Hide" Z?>7 
 
 An Embarrassing Question Asked a Candidate for 
 
 the Missionary Job 338 
 
 Closing, After a Swing Around the State 339 
 
 PREACHERS AND LAYMEN— 
 
 Alexander, W. A. _ 335 
 
 Appleton, John A. 235 
 
 Averett, S. W. 280 
 
 Adams, W. Y. 230 
 
 Anderson, G. S. 242 
 
 Baird, D. O. 271 
 
 Baber. E. F. 299 
 
 Bishop, Matthew 325 
 
 Bateman, B. 222 
 
 Bledsoe, W. C. 297 
 
 Bledsoe, John F. 298 
 
 Bomar, Paul V. 281 
 
 Brewer, Geo. E. 263 
 
 Bestor, D. P. 335 
 
 Bush, A. P. 2,2,2> 
 
 Bush, J. Curtis 333 
 
 Bush, T. Green Z2>3 
 
 Burns, A. E. 287 
 
 Bailey, T. M. 127 
 
 Bell, Jonathan 167 
 
 Beeson, J. J., 225 
 
 Barnes, J. E. 233 
 
 Barbour, T. M. 301 
 
 Caldwell, J. R. 275 
 
 Carson, Robert 324 
 
 Calloway, P. M. 316 
 
 Cleveland. W. C. 247 
 
 Clements, Sam 304 
 
 Creighton, J. H. 331 
 
 Cox. W. J. E. 336 
 
 Cnmbie. R. A. J. 274 
 
 Curry, J. H. 271 
 
 Curry, W. G. 300 
 
 Crumpton, B. H. 105 
 
 Cochran, C. M. 291 
 
Cox, J. E. 235 
 
 Crook, James A. 228 
 
 Davis, John T. 313 
 
 Davis, W. A 228 
 
 Davis, W. T. 294 
 
 Davidson, A. C. 258 
 
 Dennis, John 330 
 
 Dawson, L. O. 277 
 
 Dill, Dr. Thos. J. 180 
 
 Eager, Geo. B. 264 
 
 Ellis, B. F. 290 
 
 Frost, J. M. 255 
 
 Fortune, J. M. 264 
 
 Fox, L. L. 331 
 
 Forrester, Ben 313 
 
 Forrester, E. J. 189 
 
 Frazier, Robert 280 
 
 Gunn, Jackson 224 
 
 Gwaltney, L. R. 279 
 
 Gray, B. D. 238 
 
 Harbin, L. B. 230 
 
 Hamberlin, J. B. 111 
 
 Harris, J. G. 262 
 
 Haralson, Jonathan 251 
 
 Hanson, H. P. 336 
 
 Henderson, Samuel 271 
 
 Hale, P. T 238 
 
 Hardy, A. R. 243 
 
 Kierce, G. W. 327 
 
 Johnson, Lewis 288 
 
 Lloyd, W. E. 299 
 
 Lovelace, Jessie B. 179 
 
 Lyon, David 126 
 
 Longcrier, J. H. 234 
 
 Lambert, J. A. 323 
 
 Lowry, John G. 238 
 
 Martin, A. L. 315 
 
 Mallory, H. S. D. 252 
 
 Maupin. R. L. 335 
 
 Miles, George 247 
 
 Mosely, P. L. 318 
 
 Montague, A. P. 268 
 
 Murfee, J. T. 179 
 
 McCord. J. M. 287 
 
 McWilliams, Miles 328 
 
 McQueen, George 326 
 
 Parker, William A. 269 
 
 Patrick. Robert G. 281 
 
 Pratt, R. H 286 
 
 Pettus, R. E. 227 
 
 Purser, D. L 279 
 
 Purser. John 308 
 
 Prestridge. John N. 300 
 
 Pritchett, William 327 
 
 Quinn,,R. L. 226 
 
 Robertson, W. G. 273 
 
 Ramsey, D. M. 329 
 
 Ray, S. O. Y. 282 
 
Roby, Z. D. 298 
 
 Renfroe, J. J. D. 265-268 
 
 Riley, B. F. 125 
 
 Schramme, H. R. 254 
 
 Scott, J. A. 229 
 
 Shackelford, Josephus 225 
 
 ShafTer J. P. 295 
 
 Stakely, Chas. A. 302 
 
 Smythe, E. T. 229 
 
 Sims, A. T. 320 
 
 Stewart, John 332 
 
 Tucker, T. E. Z37 
 
 Tichenor. I. T, 276 
 
 Teague, E. B. 260 
 
 Underwood, N. C. 312 
 
 Wright. J. C 228 
 
 Wharton, M. B. 285 
 
 Woods, W. C 232 
 
 Wilkerson, W. W. 179 
 
 Wilkes, W. 302 
 
 Winkler, E. T. 238 
 
 Waldrop, A. J. 234 
 
 Yarbrough, W. F. 270 
 
 Yarbrough, J. S. 302 
 
 CALIFORNIA PREACHERS— 
 
 Fitzgerald, O. P. 33 
 
 Scott, Dr. 34 
 
 A FEW NOBLE WOMEN— 
 
 Hamilton, Mrs. A. T 159 
 
 Kelly, Willie 185 
 
 Cox, Addie 159 
 
 Patrick, Laura Lee 160 
 
 Metcalfe, Clyde 160 
 
 Davie Lois, Mrs. Napier 159 
 
 -White, Mrs. Flossie 158 
 
 Huey, Alice 160 
 
 Ward, Julia 158 
 
 Mallory, Kathleen 152 
 
 Foster, Martha 159 
 
 MISSIONARIES— 
 
 McCollum, John 160 
 
 Bouldin, George 161 
 
 MEDICAL MISSIONARIES— 
 
 Ayers, Dr. T. W. 
 
 Taylor, Adrian 161 
 
 Taylor, Richard 162 
 
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