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FAIRHOPE

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
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"Out from the deep green its spire rose,
Glist'ning white 'gainst the blue of sky,
A house of prayer and peace for those
Who worshipped there the God most high.'
Will Harris Johnson

FAIRHOPE THE ANNALS OF A
COUNTRY CHURCH

BY
EDGAR DEWITT JONES

FRONTISPIECE BY
HERBERT DELAND WILLIAMS

JJrai fnrk
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1917
All rights TMSBrvad

COFYEIGHT, 1917
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

Set up and electrotyped. Published, May, 1917.

TO
FRANCES OF
FAIRHOPE

CONTENTS PAGE
A Yellow-Breasted Chat  3
Fairhope Meeting-House  13
The Days of Controversy and Debate ... 23
The Protracted Meetings  41
The Singing at Fairhope  59
Our Student Preachers  71
A Hound of the Lord  89
A Modern Enoch  103
Major Menifee's Boy  121
As Some Tall Cliff  137
When Politics and Religion Mixed . . . .155
A Minister's Wooing  169
The Old Order Changeth  189
A Prophecy in God's Acre  205

A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT

A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT
It has all come about — the writing of these an
nals, I mean — through the instrumentality of a
man and a bird. The man is my minister, and the
bird — but let that come later.
As for ministers, all my life I have known them
intimately. Ours has long been known as a preach
er's home, and one of our numerous ministerial
guests christened it "the preacher's paradise."
Though he phrased it superlatively, I question if
any home was ever more hospitably disposed
toward ministers than our own. Like the good
woman of Shunam, who built a special guest cham
ber for the prophet, so according to my earliest
recollections our roof has sheltered a preacher's
room. The very first guest that I can recall was as
Godly a minister as ever proclaimed the way of
life eternal, and I cherish the hope that at the
end of my earthly journey my filming eyes may
rest on the calm countenance of a stout-hearted
evangel of God who will commend my parting soul
to the heavenly Father.
Of all the ministers I have known not one re
sembled Mr. Edgecomb ; more formally, The Rev
erend Roger Edgecomb, who is my pastor now.
Mr. Edgecomb does not look like a domine, nor
does he dress like one. He is slightly above me
dium height, of a well-knit, athletic build. His face
is bronzed from much outdoor life. His hair —

4 FAIRHOPE
what there is of it — is of a reddish tinge, and his
eyes are of a fine twinkling blue-grey. Mr. Edge-
comb's every day suits are not of ministerial cut
or colour. He favours a sack coat of norfolk
style, invariably of greyish cast, and he actually
wears khaki when he goes on his long tramps to
the woods.
Mr. Edgecomb knows birds ! That I found out
the morning after his first night as my guest. Now,
be it known that I stablish a point of contact with
our ministerial guests usually through some ques
tion of theology, a comment on our religious press,
or a query as to some puzzling passage of Scripture.
In Mr. Edgecomb's case, however, ornithology —
not theology •. — opened the way to a more inti
mate acquaintance. He arrived on one Friday eve
ning late, and I showed him to his room after only
the briefest and most conventional conversation.
The next morning at breakfast he stopped in the
midst of lifting a crisp slice of bacon to his mouth,
and exclaimed, " Ah, an ovenbird ! Did you hear
it say ' Teacher, Teacher, Teacher ' ? "
I did hear it and I so informed my guest, and
the while I was conscious of a rising tide of ac
tual excitement. Other ministers had helped me in
the explanation of difficult points of theology and
obscure Bible texts. Here was a minister who
might throw light on the mystery in the ravine just
below the house and across Garrison Creek.
"Are you well up in bird lore?" I asked, my
face mirroring my great new interest in my guest.

A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT 5
Mr. Edgecomb inserted a generous lump of
butter between the crusts of one of Aunt Caro
line's delicious biscuits before answering. Then
smiling at me from across the table he replied,
" Better, I fear, than I am in some fine points of
theology. Are you a bird man, too ? "
" Scarcely," I confessed. " Much as I love the
birds, I have only a limited knowledge of the spe
cies. The commoner kinds I can identify of course ;
but there are birds that visit northern Kentucky
every spring whose songs are familiar to me
though the singers are not. And, Mr. Edgecomb,
there is one bird in particular which I have heard
every spring for practically all my life, and yet I
am not absolutely certain that I ever laid eyes on
him. I have a great curiosity to see him and to
learn his name. His haunts are not five minutes'
walk from this house. Will you let me take you
there after breakfast? "
" Let you? " Edgecomb laughed with abandon.
" Why you have excited me ! I am keen as a
hound that has just found a fresh trail. I have
had breakfast aplenty! I am ready to go now."
So we set out together. Passing back of the
house, we cut across a woodland pasture where a
cardinal grosbeak in a thorn tree attracted Edge
comb and moved him to say, " There is only one
thing more fascinating than a redbird in a green
tree and that is two redbirds."
We scrambled down the sloping sides of a hill,
crossed Garrison Creek at a point where I had con-

6 FAIRHOPE
structed a primitive sort of bridge — a sort that
went out with every freshet.
Through a little ravine heavily fringed with
undergrowth and boasting here and there a fairly
good-sized tree, we made our way. Suddenly
there came from the denser part of the copse
a saucy chuckle followed by a shrill whistle. We
stopped short.
" That's the bird! " I exclaimed.
Mr. Edgecomb put his hand on my shoulder.
" Man, it's a yellow-breasted chat. I don't won
der that you were puzzled."
" The chat is a shy bird," he continued.
" Common as he is, I dare say not one in a hun
dred thousand knows him by name. He is the
enigma of the bird world. No one knows the
chat intimately. Before I show him to you I
can tell you all that the ornithologists know about
the chat in less than five minutes. He belongs to
the warbler family, and he's rather a handsome
fellow. His upper parts are olive green, his throat
and chest are bright yellow. His sides are olive
in colour and he has a white ring around his eyes.
Male and female are marked much alike. Unlike
the robin or blackbird, the chat is retiring; and
for the most of the time he is in hiding just as
he is at this very moment. His song — if song
one may call it — is familiar to many who, like
yourself, never saw the bird or if they saw him
they did not know him as the singer of the familiar
notes. I should say there are three distinct notes

A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT 7
in the chat's song: a saucy chuckle, a harsh, scold
ing cry, and a shrill, not unmusical whistle. He
has other notes — many of them. He's a mimic.
Yes, sir, the chat is a most eccentric fellow. He's
versatile, a bit of a ventriloquist, and something
of an acrobat. When he sees us he will bend back
and forth on the limb and turn his head from
side to side in a way that is comical. Ah, there he
is at his scolding again! Come on and we'll spy
out the beggar."
Cautiously we made a path through the under
brush. " There he is," announced my guide, and
looking in the direction his finger was pointing I
saw the denizen of the ravine whose identity I had
not until then been able to discover. Mr. Edge
comb had described him accurately. I looked at
the bird curiously. So this was the mysterious
stranger I had so long been eager to know ! Re
treating further back into the underbrush, the
chat bowed his head from side to side and twisted
himself back and forth in a queer commingling of
a serio-comic performance. For perhaps ten min
utes we watched the antics of the chat, until seem
ingly offended by our prolonged intrusion he dis
appeared in a spot where the underbrush was
thicker and darker; and from that security he
scolded and chuckled to his heart's content.
Such was the happy beginning of my acquaint
ance with Roger Edgecomb : minister of the Gos
pel, nature lover, and best of companions indoors
or out. From that day on he and I were often to-

8 FAIRHOPE
gether; we tramped over the farm and the sur
rounding country, and there is scarcely a nook or
corner in the county that we haven't poked in and
about. Under his tutelage I have come to know
more accurately than I had ever thought possible,
the birds of Kentucky. Numbering among my
friends many ministers, with the advent of Edge
comb I began to write a new chapter in my life.
In the course of our long tramps it was but
natural, I suppose, that I should give Edgecomb
little by little the story of our community life;
and especially of Fairhope church which is per
haps the best known of all the country congrega
tions of northern Kentucky. In a way my delight
in listening to him reveal his knowledge of birds
and trees and flowers was paralleled by his inter
est in my simple narratives of our people, our
preachers, and the lights and shadows of our rural
religious life. It was on a day in the month of
roses, after a half-day spent along the woods which
fringe the Ohio River bluffs, that Edgecomb
broached the subject to me that had been on his
mind for some time. We were eating our lunch
in the shade of a huge sycamore near the mouth of
Garrison Creek. I had sketched for him some
incidents in the life of an unique character who
for nearly a half-century had been a pillar in Fair-
hope Church. When I had done Edgecomb turned
to me, a more serious expression on his bronzed
face than usual.
" My friend," he said, " there is one duty that

A YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT a
awaits your doing. For forty years you have lived
in this interesting country and your life has been
in and of a country church rainbowed by romance ;
a type of church, too, that is fast passing away
forever. You ought to write down the story of
Fairhope and so keep green the memory of an
unique rural church life — a life that already be
longs to another day and generation."
I laughed the matter off lightly, and helping my
self to another cold beef sandwich, sought to
change the subject. But Edgecomb would not let
me dispose of the matter in that way. He is a per
sistent fellow, I tell you, and usually accomplishes
what he sets out to do. Nevertheless, not until he
had spoken to me a half-dozen times perhaps, did
I begin to regard the project seriously or view it
with any favour. Even then I came to no decision
and gave him no reason to believe that I would
act favourable to his wishes; until there came a
morning glorious beyond description, when I set
out across the fields to look after some fence that
I had been told was needing attention. From the
hedge rows a brown thrasher sang with abandon.
Farther off a mocking-bird surpassed the rival of
the hedge row. Over in the orchard a cardinal
whistled in sheer delight, and faintly from a nearby
meadow came the plaintive song of a field spar
row. I felt the magic spell of the morning and my
old love for that God-favoured spot welling up
within me, reminded me of Edgecomb's interest in
my writing down a narrative that would embalm

io FAIRHOPE
the memories and glories of this community of
northern Kentucky. And while I was thinking of
this, there came from the midst of the thicket of
tangled vine and pawpaw trees the sauciest 6f
chuckles and then a shrill, flute-like whistle. That
decided me !
And thus it came about : through the instrumen
tality of a minister and a yellow-breasted chat that
I, David Westbrooke, rural churchman, sometime
traveller, and hopeful bachelor, came to write
down the story of Fairhope.

FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE

FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE
Travellers approaching Cincinnati from the
west on railways that parallel the Ohio River, are
certain to observe the high hills which like continu
ous fortifications mark the boundary of the Ken
tucky side. In winter these hills are bleak, bare, and
austere. In spring they are lovely in apparel of soft
est green variegated by occasional bursts of pink
and purple blossoms. In autumn they are robed in
hues of russet and red, splendidly set off by
splotches of yellow ranging in shade from a light
lemon to deepest orange. Skirting the base of these
hills and mounting them by tortuous windings, are
the turnpike highways which lead to the fertile
farms on the tableland at the top. The scenery
along these river hills is rugged everywhere; in
places it is picturesque in deep gorges, rock-bot
tomed, and bordered with profusion of wild and
dark tangled underbrush. Rock beds crop boldly
out on all sides, and often in fantastic formation.
Indeed, the county of Boone has long been of espe
cial interest to the geologists, who find here nu
merous and eloquent fossil relics of a militant,
prehistoric life. This is particularly true of the
southern part of the county where the land is
rough and broken, forming a section known as
the Knobs.
In this northernmost county of Kentucky, not far
from the lordly river, and amidst a populous
farming community, is Fairhope meeting-house.
13

i4 FAIRHOPE
I like much that quaint, old-fashioned name of
meeting-house, loved and cherished by our New
England forbears. It is a beautifully significant
name ; a meeting-house where men and women may
meet their Maker, and so meeting Him meet one
another in sweet and enduring fellowships. For
very many years our people always spoke of the
church building as the meeting-house rather than
the church. Indeed, I can recall the time when to
speak otherwise was to occasion suspicion of grave
departure from " sound speech." But now I sel
dom hear this old-fashioned name for the House
of God. Instead, the name " church " is in com
mon and constant use. Thus do terms as well as
customs change, and what was unorthodox phrase
ology yesterday is accepted as sound and Scriptural
speech to-day.
From the window where I am writing I can see
the slender steeple of Fairhope meeting-house
which is all of a mile away. It is midsummer and
here and there amid the thick foliage of oak and
elm and maple I can discern part of the ridge
comb of the high pitched roof, and nearly all of
the slender spire. The present structure is the
third in the six and fifty years of the congrega
tion's existence. The first a plain little meeting
house, gave way to a larger and better appearing
edifice in 1862; and the present substantial struc
ture replaced the second, which was destroyed by
fire in the fall of 1892.
The building is a frame structure, painted white,

FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE 15
with green shutters; and is rectangular in shape.
It is considerably larger than most country meet
ing-houses and will seat comfortably three hun
dred and fifty persons. A tall steeple straddles the
roof above the entrance and adds much to the
appearance of the building. A double door admits
into a vestibule ; and within are two doors on either
side, each facing an aisle. The interior is plain but
substantial. The high backed pews are stained
brown, as is also the pulpit desk. Flanking the pul
pit left and right are pews running lengthwise
and these form the " Amen Corners."
Fairhope meeting-house adorns a plot of ground
richly favoured by nature. The building stands
upon a pleasing elevation which on the one hand
slopes gradually to Dry Creek, and on the other
stretches out in level fields to the river bluffs two
miles distant.
Dry Creek is deserving of a brief description
since it is an interesting stream and does not belie
its name. For the greater part it is of solid rock
bottom, and with the exception of certain deep
holes it is most of the time actually dry. But dur
ing heavy rainfalls and the sudden breaking up
of winter, the creek rises rapidly and becomes
bank full of swift running water in an incredibly
short time. Fording Dry Creek after a heavy
rain is always perilous and seldom necessary for
the flood subsides as quickly as it rises.
In front of the church is the main travelled turn
pike and on the side next the creek is a dirt road

16 FAIRHOPE
which — like all such roads in our county — is
ideal for driving in good weather, but in times of
heavy rains or February thaws become almost im
passable. Noble trees — elm, oak, and maple —
shade the edifice and directly back of the building
is the cemetery (an acre and one-half in area),
where sleep so many of our blessed dead. An
osage hedge fence completely surrounds the plot
of ground on which the meeting-house stands,
alongside of which are hitching posts and feed
racks for the horses of the worshippers; and in
these later days a parking place for automobiles.
Less than two city blocks distant is a little cross
roads village with a blacksmith shop, a general
store, and a tobacco warehouse.
Looking east from Fairhope, one can see the
distant hills beyond the Ohio River. To the south
lie the fertile farms in landscapes of mingled wood
land and blue grass pastures. To the west the hills
of Indiana are just discernible on clear days; and
the majestic river itself which borders this north
ernmost county like a great horseshoe, may be ac
curately traced for a part of its course by the trail
ing clouds of smoke from the steamboats plying
up or down the stream.
Thus it is that the very name Fairhope is de
scriptive of the natural beauties of this rural
church's environs, while suggesting as well the
great spiritual entities for which it stands.
Yet, Fairhope takes its name not from the fair
spot it occupies; nor yet again from that great

FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE ij
Hope which is as an anchor to the soul, and sym
bolised by every church building; but from old
Colonel Fairhope who gave the two acres for the
cemetery and church purposes. The Colonel was
a veteran of the Mexican War and he lost his life
in the great Civil conflict in the Sixties. He was a
bachelor, the last of his line, and there is not a
single Fairhope so far as I know in all the State
to perpetuate the memory of the noble man. His
dust slumbers not far away from the House of
God which gives a certain immortality to a name
which otherwise might have perished from the
earth. The reference to the name of Fairhope serves
to remind me of the names of neighbours and
friends who through all these years have been in
and of Fairhope meeting-house. When I think of
them I think of Fairhope; and when I think of
Fairhope I think at once of the Throckmortons,
the Boardmans, the Shelleys, the Walmsleys, the
Robbins, the Brownings, the Johnsons, the
Dodges, the Brookings, the Menifees, the Van
Gorders, the Paynes, the Subletts, the Perrys, the
Westbrookes — our friends and our neighbours,
our kith and our kin.
I make no attempt to conceal my affection for
Fairhope church. All my life has been lived in
sight and sound of Fairhope's House of God, and
the lives of those I know the best and love the
most have been — and some are now entwined
and intertwined about that country church's his-

1 8 FAIRHOPE
tory. I know full well Fairhope's triumphs and
failures, her lights and shadows; and as I write I
seem to behold in long procession her preachers,
her elders, her members young and old, good and
bad, all heart of my heart, and life of my life.
I have travelled some both in my native land
and in the Old World; and in my journeyings I
have everywhere carried — even in Paris — my in
terest in things and places religious. I have wor
shipped in some of the great and historic churches
of the New World and the old ; I have listened to
Alexander Whyte in Free Saint George's, Edin
burgh; I have heard Reginald J. Campbell in the
City Temple, London; I have sat in old Trinity,
New York; I have worshipped in St. Paul's, and
likewise in Westminster Abbey, London; and in
one and all of these places set apart for praise
and worship, and others not here named, I have
felt in greater or lesser degree the presence of
God". Yet in none of these have I experienced
such exaltation of spirit, such elation of soul, as
on many a Lord's day morning worshipping in
Fairhope church in northern Kentucky with the
glory of God's sunshine without, the cheery whis
tle of the cardinal grosbeak borne to my grateful
ears through the open windows, and within the
congregation worshipping God in simple peace and
unaffected piety.
It is our custom to observe every Lord's day the
communion of the Lord's Supper. Simply, yet with
becoming reverence, our elders conduct this serv-

FAIRHOPE MEETING-HOUSE 19
ice at the close of the sermon and the singing of
the invitational hymn. Following brief but fitting
comments on the origin and purpose of the institu
tion, there is a prayer of gratitude for the loaf,
after which the bread is broken and distributed by
the deacons to the worshippers. In like manner,
there is a prayer of thanksgiving for the cup ; the
goblets are filled from the tankard and the fruit
of the vine passed to the people.
Then follows a hymn, usually " Blest be the Tie
that Binds," and the morning worship is ended.
To many, it is during this simple service that those
emotions are experienced which Isaac Watts so
well described in what is perhaps his greatest
hymn: " When I survey the wond'rous Cross
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride."
More than once or twice, or even a score of
times, Fairhope meeting-house has been for me the
Gate of Heaven, and all that John Milton's great
cathedral with storied windows and pealing organ
accomplished for him, so that unadorned House
of God with rural worshippers has " dissolved me
into ecstasies and brought all heaven before mine
eyes." As I write, two score years of Fairhope's his
tory passes before me in moving pictures filled
with familiar scenes and faces. After this fashion

20 FAIRHOPE
do I behold Fairhope's life, sometimes in larger
outlines, in sweet intimacies, virtues and sins,
humours and tragedies; the whole softened by time
and reflection as the summer twilight softens the
landscape and haloes the commonest bush with
glory and romance.

THE DAYS OF CONTROVERSY
AND DEBATE

THE DAYS OF CONTROVERSY
AND DEBATE
Whoever writes of the controversial period in
American church history must have a care lest he
distort events or caricature persons who were as
loyal to the cause they loved as were those brave
knights when chivalry was in flower. The back
ground of the polemics of a half-century ago and
more has faded away and the atmosphere which
imparted gusto to the doctrinal debates, has gone
forever. These facts make it a difficult and deli
cate matter to deal fairly with a once popular and
vital phase of religious life in the Middle West.
The early days of Fairhope were the days of
controversy and debate. Our congregation was
part of a religious movement which originated in
a plea for the unity of all God's people by a " res
toration of primitive Christianity, its doctrines, its
ordinances, and its fruits." Practically all the
older members of Fairhope were men and women
who left the churches of their fathers in order to
protest against a divided Christendom. The fact
that their protest possessed the ironical setting of
adding another body to the more than one hun
dred denominations already existing in America
was not a condition of their making or wish.
Controversy, argument, and debate, were the
natural order of those days. Disputation was held
in high esteem. Ability to argue was a gift greatly
to be desired on the part of the preacher. The
23

24 FAIRHOPE
preachers of those days were for the most part
skilled dialecticians. Often have I heard the ac
count of a notable service in Fairhope's first meet
ing-house when a distinguished minister and
scholar of national reputation was the preacher.
The little building was crowded to the doors and
many were unable to get inside. This eminent per
sonage was at that time well advanced in years, a
venerable and patriarchal appearing man, and
during the delivery of his sermon he leaned heavily
upon a cane. This distinguished man was a guest
overnight in our home and the impression he left
of courtliness and gracious personality was such
as our family never forgot, and the memory of
his visit is preserved by us to this day and cher
ished with pride. In American church history this
eminent reformer is known chiefly as a controver
sialist, but he was much more. He was a scholar
and a most gallant Christian gentleman. Unhap
pily, though, some who followed him were not so
radiant of spirit and were fiercely argumentative
and partisan in their defence of the faith once for
all delivered to the saints.
The old-fashioned man who studied the Scrip
tures in order that he might argue with the
preacher, is for the most part obsolete; but there
were many of his kind in the early days of Fair-
hope. Giles Shockley was one such. Giles de
lighted to quiz the preachers young and old on
Biblical topics. But Giles was practical in his pur
poses and spurned all fanciful queries or mere

DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 25
catch questions. Others were not. " Where did
Cain get his wife? " " What kind of a mark was
it that God put on Cain? " " Did the angels have
wings? " " If angels have wings why did they use
Jacob's ladder?" These and kindred questions
were launched at the preacher in those days, and
if he treated them contemptuously or failed to
make some sort of satisfactory answer, his stock
was sure to go down in the estimation of many.
Thirty-five and forty years ago our county was
an arena for debates on religious topics, some of
which were of wide celebrity. At least three de
bates that were considered sufficiently important to
warrant publication, took place in our county ; and
one of these in Fairhope meeting-house. These
debates attracted great crowds and were the means
of arousing intense interest. It is quite impossible
for those who did not live through this period of
religious controversy to understand the impor
tance attached to the debates. They were outstand
ing events of those days. Prior to the debate there
was usually a great deal of correspondence be
tween the participants ; a correspondence, too, of a
serious nature and weighed down with a ponderous
kind of solemnity. Whatever may be our views
of these debates now, they were not held in light
esteem by the men who engaged in them and pro
claimed fearlessly their doctrinal beliefs. These
debates were conducted with marked dignity and
a great deal of ceremony.
The following " Preliminary Rules of Discus-

26 FAIRHOPE
sion " of a debate held forty years ago in northern
Kentucky, and widely attended, show the formal
ity with which these meetings were conducted, and
also the seriousness that characterised them as a
whole. i. The Debate shall commence at such time,
and be held in such place, as the Debators shall
decide when they meet.
2. Each Disputant shall elect a Moderator, and
these shall choose a third, who shall act as Presi
dent. 3. In the opening of each new subject the af
firmant shall occupy one hour, and the respondent
the same length of time — each subsequently shall
alternately occupy half an hour, till the subject is
disposed of.
4. The Debate shall open at precisely half-past
nine o'clock and shall close at half-past eleven,
A.M., each day; and in the afternoon commence at
precisely one o'clock and close at four.
5. The Debatants agree to adopt, and be gov
erned by, the rules of decorum found in " Hedge's
Logic," page 159, a copy of which work shall be
upon the Moderator's desk, for reference.
6. King James' translation of the Holy Scrip
tures, generally known as the common version,
shall be the umpire on all Biblical questions.
7. The rules of interpretation laid down in the
seventeenth chapter of " Hedge's Logic " shall
govern the parties in their Biblical criticism; but
either party may refer to other translations, com-

DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 27
mentaries, and writings, to prove the correctness
of his interpretations.
With these rules before him, one who never at
tended such a debate should be able to visualise the
scene: the three moderators sitting in state, the
two champions of serious mien, the formidable
pile of books and documents on a nearby desk or
table, the crowded building with the eager ex
pectant faces and air of suppressed excitement.
With such a setting for a discussion on Bible
truths, it is not strange that interest in the religious
debates was rampant fifty years ago.
At Florence, a little town twelve miles from
Fairhope, there took place a notable debate be
tween one of our champions and an equally able
opponent from a denomination noted to this day
for its zeal and orderly system. People came for
fifty miles to hear these two celebrities in a series
of discussions continuing three days. The excite
ment was at fever heat and many of the preachers
from the large churches in Cincinnati and Coving
ton were in attendance. Practically all of Fair-
hope's adult congregation was present at one or
more of the sessions, and for days the principal
topic of conversation in the community was this
polemic event.
The opening session of this debate was fea
tured by a choice bit of repartee worth recording
here, both for its wit and as illustrating the spirit
of these encounters. When the champion who op
posed our man arose to make the preliminary

28 FAIRHOPE
speech he said, " At last I am to meet the great
gladiator of whom I have heard for years, but
not until to-day was ever privileged to see. I am
told that my distinguished opponent is a man-
eater. I have been advised to watch him carefully,
lest he devour me whole at one gulp. But now
that I have seen him I am not alarmed. He looks
mild and gentle. Still — I will not throw all cau
tion aside until I have seen him in action."
With this kind of an introduction he plunged
into the statement of the proposition he was to
defend. When it came time for our champion's rejoinder,
he referred blandly to the opening remarks of his
honourable and distinguished antagonist; and then
deliberately and in the most solemn fashion, he
admonished, " Let my brother and able opponent
be calm. He is in no danger. He is as safe here as
in the bosom of his family. I will not bite him for,
like the Apostle Peter, I have never eaten any
thing common or unclean."
This sally made a decided hit with our adher
ents, and for the time rather took the wind out of
the sails of the first speaker. Further on in the
debate, however, the tables were turned in some
similar manner on our champion, and thus the
honours were evened to the satisfaction of the
large and extremely partisan audience.
Another debate which attracted widespread at
tention was held six miles from Fairhope and at
the county seat town. One of our ministers met

DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 29
there a Universalist in a two days' discussion.
Great throngs were in attendance and the interest
was widespread. In one of our man's speeches he
gave an unwarranted, but vivid and really
extraordinary description of Dives in torment cry
ing piteously for water; and at the close of the ter
rible portrayal he turned abruptly to his opponent
and exclaimed, " Now, I've got him in hell, you
get him out — if you can! "
The Universalist preacher arose and with that
torrid description of his opponent as text, he pro
ceeded to draw the most blistering caricature of the
doctrine of the eternal punishment of the wicked
imaginable. And he clinched his points by read
ing dramatically what he styled a " perfectly ortho
dox hymn " which made the vivid description of
our champion seem insipid and tame in compari
son. That hymn is printed in full in the published
volume of this historic debate, and is interesting
as a theological curio :
" Behold, that great and awful day
Of parting soon will come,
When sinners must be hurled away,
And Christians gathered home.
" Perhaps the parent sees the child
Sink down to endless flames,
With shrieks, and howls, and bitter cries,
Never to rise again.
" O father, see my blazing hand !
Mother, behold your child !

3o FAIRHOPE
Against you now a witness stands,
Amidst the flames confined.
" The child, perhaps, the parents view
Go headlong down to hell,
Gone with the rest of Satan's crew,
And bid the child farewell.
" The husband sees his piteous wife,
With whom he once did dwell,
Depart with groans and bitter cries,
My husband, fare you well.
" But O, perhaps, the wife may see
The man she once did love,
Sink down to endless misery,
While she is crowned above ! "
Having done with this part of his argument,
which was certainly of the reductio ad absurdum
sort par excellence, the Universalist's champion
turned his attention to Dives whom — he ex
plained — was never really in hell at all ; and that
the parable had no reference to eternal punishment
whatever. Our champion in this debate was James Cowell,
and though not especially successful in his en
counter with the Universalist, was really a brilliant
preacher in the range of the disputatious and dog
matic. Since in a way he typifies one kind of min
ister common to most bodies in those days, he
merits a fuller description. He was our minister
at Fairhope for a period of three years. He re-

DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 31
sided on a farm in another State and preached half
time for us ; that is, two Sundays each month. He
usually arrived on Saturday afternoon and re
turned to his farm on Monday morning. As a
polemic and doctrinal preacher, he was exception
ally able. He was a fine specimen of manhood, a
veritable giant with Atlantean shoulders. He
possessed a strong voice of great volume and an
unusual talent as a mimic. He was fond of a good
dinner and a good horse, and was a most enter
taining conversationalist. He could tell a story
captivatingly. He had many friends in our county
even among those who differed from him doc-
trinarily. In our community to-day there are three
men born during his ministry at Fairhope who were
named for him, and this in itself is an eloquent
proof of his popularity.
This minister had a perfect passion for the con
troversial. He had a sermon in which he set out
to prove conclusively that the thief on the cross
was baptised and it took him all of two hours to
preach it. One of his proof texts was Matthew
3 : 5-6, " Then went out unto him Jerusalem and all
Judea, and all the region around about the Jordan;
and they were baptised of him in the river Jordan,
confessing their sins." His argument was that if
" all " of Jerusalem and Judea were baptised of
John this thief most certainly was not saved with
out baptism. Our most spiritual people did not
care much for that sermon. Good Jacob Board-
man expostulated with this preacher more than

32 FAIRHOPE
once, saying that this sermon in his opinion did
more harm than good. Still, there were certain
minds among us who approved of the sermon and
even praised it highly. Giles Shockley, who prided
himself on his soundness in the faith and who was
our self-appointed detective of heresy; held that
this sermon was truly Biblical. More than once
Giles rode horseback as many as fifteen miles to
hear Cowell repeat this particular sermon; and I
recall that once Giles remarked to a group of Fair-
hope's people, " Brethren, James Cowell as a
preacher of the Gospel has no equal in the world !
Henry Ward Beecher might learn a lot from him,
especially on baptism."
Baptism was a perennially popular topic of ser
mons in those days, and the controversy raged
thick and fierce over the ordinance. Our people
are immersionists and it was expected in those days
that baptism should have a prominent place in the
sermon. James Cowell's biggest sermons were on
baptism, and an announcement that he would speak
on that subject would fill Fairhope meeting-house
any time. In this connection a sensational incident
occurred. Cowell was preaching on baptism one
hot July night and there stood on the pulpit desk
a glass of water. The house was well filled and
on the front seat — almost under the pulpit — sat
a member of another church, a prominent man, a
class leader, and a well-to-do farmer. In the midst
of a fervid plea for immersion the preacher did a
sensational and most daring thing, and he did it

DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 33
mostly out of an overflowing sense of humour or
the downright mischievousness that he possessed
so largely. Dramatically he thrust his fingers into
the glass of water and flinging out his arm in a
dripping gesture, actually sprinkled the brother
on the front seat, exclaiming as he did so, " And
you call this baptism ! "
The class leader was, as Giles Shockley phrased
it, " considerably riled;" and no wonder! To-day
a thing like that would be impossible, and it seems
incredible almost that it could have ever happened
without bringing down the indignation of the com
munity upon the doer. In that day it was tolerated,
laughed over, and even defended by some. Giles
Shockley approved of it, and after service that
night he informed James Cowell that that was
what he called " illustratin' the Gospel."
Cowell sometimes used his skill as a mimic in
the pulpit with entertaining, but not always edify
ing results. In the early days of Fairhope the doc
trine of total hereditary depravity was stoutly de
fended on the one hand and bitterly assailed on
the other. Cowell used to burlesque infant damna
tion in realistic fashion. He would crook his pow
erful arms and make as though he were holding a
baby, and croon and sing to it most motherly.
Then suddenly he would press the imaginary baby
close to his breast and exclaim, " And you, you
dear, sweet, innocent babe, you are damned, you
are damned forever, so men say. But O heart of
my heart, Jesus says you are not. Jesus says ' of

34 FAIRHOPE
such is the kingdom of Heaven.' Jesus says we
grown-up folks are damned unless we repent and
become as you are. You are just from God and we
old folks are a long time from Him. We are poor
and sinful. You — blessed baby, you are sweet
and pure and sinless. Would to God we were all
as ready for heaven as you are."
Sometimes this kind of monologue would con
tinue for all of ten minutes during which the audi
ence was divided between indignation on the part
of some, approving laughter on the other, and in
tense interest on the part of all.
There were giants in those days, and for the
most part our ministers were grand and noble
men; of their goodness and sincerity these annals
bear witness! And they were true as steel to the
cause dearer to them than life. Some of them
made tremendous sacrifices because of their convic
tions, and all of them preached the Gospel as they
read it set forth in the Holy Scriptures. Such
an incident as James Cowell sprinkling water on
the class leader was exceptional. Most of our
ministers would not have countenanced such a
thing; and yet from our view-point to-day it is dif
ficult to understand how any minister of the Gospel
could do such things and believe himself to be
defending the truth in so doing.
In the development of the church the period
of controversy was necessary. It certainly gave a
tremendous interest to religion in those days; so
much so that a sermon then which was not pug-

DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 35
naciously doctrinal seemed tame. Yet looking
back upon that period now, I do not believe that
the controversial spirit made for Christlikeness
in the membership of the various churches. Our
Fairhope people who were spiritual, were so de
spite this sort of thing and by no means because
of it. Our noblest and most reverent-minded peo
ple tolerated it only because they believed it neces
sary. Some of the preachers disliked it and frankly
said so in private conversation; but in their ser
mons to a greater or lesser degree they, too, dis
puted, argued, and controverted. Carter Good
pasture — one of the regular attendants at Fair-
hope as well as at all the other churches in our
community, but not a member of any — used to
say that church people by the way they talked
and argued, paraphrased First John 3 : 14 to read,
" We know that we have passed out of death into
life because we fight the brethren."
But Carter in so saying did us scant justice.
Our preachers did debate and argue, it is true; and
we church members argued and disputed among
ourselves about religious doctrines and the ordi
nances ; and yet, strange as it may seem, we loved
one another. Down below the surface where doc
trinal differences were much in evidence, we were
brotherly and needed but an opportunity to prove
it. When sickness or adversity or death came, we
forgot or ignored our doctrinal differences; and
ministered one to another in tenderest and kind
liest fashion. We wept with those who wept ; and

36 FAIRHOPE
in those experiences we turned to God and His
Christ, and our religion became at such times a
great hope and strong comfort, merging us the
while into blessed unity of spirit. Even Giles
Shockley who was a warrior bold in the realm of
the doctrinal, forgot to argue or contend and re
membered only to serve when sickness or accident
laid low some neighbour.
It was at the County Fair that Giles and Sam
Bowman almost came to blows in an argument
over the order of faith and repentance in conver
sion. Giles held that faith came first, and Sam
stubbornly insisted that repentance came first.
Friends separated them before any blows were
struck, but they didn't speak to each other for
all of a year. Nevertheless, when Sam was fatally
hurt by the falling of a tree upon him, it was Giles
who found him, carried him several miles to his
home, and remained by his bedside until death
mercifully relieved his sufferings.
For one I am glad the period of acrimonious
controversy and debate in matters religious is
over. I have not heard in Fairhope Church but
one or two controversial sermons after the old
style and spirit in a dozen years ; but I have heard
many a prayer on taming the tongue, on tempta
tion, on the mind of Christ, and other spiritual
themes, that made me want the more to press on
unto perfection. And if our preachers twenty-
five and fifty years ago were with us now their
great ability, their loyalty, and their devotion to

DAYS OF CONTROVERSY 37
the cause, would in all probability find its expres
sion in such preaching as this. While on the other
hand, if our ministers of these modern times had
flourished in the days of their predecessors of
Fairhope and other churches of that period, be
yond any doubt they, too, would have been argu
mentative and dogmatic. The age was such; and
to a greater or lesser extent as the chameleon par
takes of the colour of its surroundings, so men re
flect the spirit of their age.
Somewhere I have read of the need of a moral
equivalent of war, something that will bring out
the heroic and a sturdy sense of loyalty in men
without the carnage and rapine attendant on armed
conflict; but instead will result in those beneficent,
social revolutions which tend to make earth a
more habitable place for mankind. I like much
that idea. And just so, I could wish that there
might be a spiritual equivalent for the absorbing
'interest, fervid zeal, and serious concern, for re
ligion that rainbowed the days of debate and con
troversy with a sort of solemn splendour.

THE PROTRACTED MEETINGS

THE PROTRACTED MEETINGS
An important and interesting feature of religious
life in our community was the protracted meeting.
In the city churches these services are usually called
revivals or evangelistic meetings, and occasionally
now I see the term " decision services." But with
us, protracted meetings is the homely and familiar
term in common use among our people to describe
those fruitful endeavours and special seasons for
making of converts to the faith. These meetings,
indeed, were the occasions when most of our con
verts were made. Conversions at the regular ser
vices were rare and not often expected. It was the
custom of Fairhope and other congregations in
our county to have a protracted meeting once a
year, conducted sometimes by the regular minis
ter but oftener by a preacher imported for the
occasion from some church of like faith in a near
by or distant portion of the State.
Richard Marvin, who was our able and success
ful minister for all of twelve years, held four such
meetings himself; and they were among the best
we ever had. Our protracted meetings seldom
lasted longer than two weeks, and were usually
held in the fall of the year and preferably in the
light of the moon. These meetings seldom failed
to attract large audiences and stimulate evangelis
tic interest and fervour. The members of neigh
bouring churches of other faiths attended and en
tered with zest into the services. And it was our
41

42 FAIRHOPE
custom to plan these meetings so they would not
conflict in time ; thus giving opportunity for an at
tendance on the part of the peoples in the com
munity of the various denominations.
I have seen Fairhope meeting-house packed to
the doors time and again during protracted meet
ings. I have seen the children seated about the
pulpit steps in order to give their places to adults.
And the memories I have of notable sermons and
conversions is considerable and very distinct. On
the Lord's day of the protracted meetings there
was usually a basket-dinner, provided the weather
was suitable ; and such dinners they were ! The
good housewives of our community — famous
cooks for the most part — prepared for these oc
casions sumptuously. Cakes were baked by the
dozens ; angel's food cakes, devil's food, such old-
fashioned confections as pound cake, sponge cake,
jelly roll, and many other toothsome pastries.
Chickens were slaughtered ruthlessly, fastidiously
boiled and fried, and served most appetizingly.
There were pickles and jams and preserves; and
occasionally even freezers of ice cream brought.
No wonder the basket-dinners were usually at
tended by every able-bodied man and woman and
child in the community who could get away from
home. On basket-meeting Lord's day three ser
vices were held, the special service being the after
noon preaching. The two long, stout tables on
which so many of these dinners were served may
still be seen in the rear of Fairhope meeting-house,

PROTRACTED MEETINGS 43
little used now, but monuments as it were to that
period of big basket-meetings and the crowds of
neighbours and friends representative of all the
religious bodies in the community who practised
Christian unity in this respect with beautiful and
bountiful hospitality.
Usually the preachers entered into the basket-
meetings with zest, especially city ministers. The
truth is, I recall but one preacher of the many who
held meetings for us to whom these basket dinners
were nightmares. He was a dyspeptic; a sallow,
thin-chested, hollow-cheeked, pasty-complexioned,
sort of a personage with the appetite of a dove.
This man fell into high disfavour with our good
women because he refused to eat hot bread; de
clined pie of every kind ; and fairly anathematised
mince pie in particular. He also spurned pickles,
eyed marmalades suspiciously, and actually ate but
one piece of fried chicken at a meal. He finally in
formed some of Fairhope's women that he was
on a diet. This man's meetings were a flat failure,
although he was a sermoniser of more than or
dinary ability. His failure was due, I think, to his
ailing stomach and consequent poor appetite. At
any rate, Cousin Sallie Jo Brooking — famous
alike for her excellent cooking and her very blunt
speech — declared with emphasis, "The Lord
ought not to allow a man to preach who can't eat;
and the next time our elders call a man to hold
us a meeting they ought to be sure that he has
eatin' ability as well as preachin' ability."

44 FAIRHOPE
Very different from this minister was a big-
bodied, full-blooded preacher of the Gospel who
held a successful meeting for us one fall; and who
was not only a hearty but a prodigious eater. His
ability to make away with the tempting edibles
prepared by our splendid cooks both amazed and
delighted his hostesses. A more enthusiastic cham
pion of fried chicken never breathed, and pies of
every kind straightway set his mouth to watering.
Major Menifee asked this man once if he did not
sometimes find it necessary to eat sparingly just
before preaching a sermon. The minister an
swered the Major quick as a flash, " Not at all!
I just eat all I want and preach all I can."
But this feature of our protracted meetings, im
portant and attractive as it was to many, was only
incidental to the spiritual feasts served us at such
seasons. The good of these special services was
much in evidence in those early days. It took usu
ally about a week's preaching to the church and a
warming over of those who were already mem
bers, to bring about the proper atmosphere for
conversions. Seldom did any " go forward " dur
ing the first week of the meeting. Young Harmon
Vaughn held in the second year of his ministry at
Fairhope, the longest protracted meeting in the
history of our congregation — a solid month —
and Vaughn preached all of two weeks without
a single convert. The night of his second Lord's
day in this meeting he closed his sermon with a
most melting sort of invitation to obey the Gospel;

PROTRACTED MEETINGS 45
and when nobody stirred, he slammed his hymn
book down on the communion table with a re
sounding whack, and exclaimed, " This commun
ity is Gospel-hardened! You people are as hard
as flint! You are sermon-scarred veterans! You
make me mad! I am going to quit and go where
people have hearts as well as souls; where they
will respond to the invitation of Jesus
Christ." After the sermon Jacob Boardman came up and
gently expostulated with Vaughn, who was actually
angry and ready to give up in utter discourage
ment. " Look here, Brother Vaughn," the old man
counselled mildly and affectionately, " don't you be
weary in well doing. God's Word won't return
to Him void. It never has, it never will! Don't
shake the dust of this sinful community off your
feet, my brother. Shake the blue devils out of
your system. You go on with your preaching.
The people will come to Jesus by-and-by."
And come they did. Forty-four of them; and
the meeting — taken as a whole — in some re
spects was one of the most noteworthy ever held
in Fairhope meeting-house.
I recall some really remarkable conversions
during our protracted meetings. Such a one was
that of old Abe Brocunior. Old Abe was one of
our disreputable citizens ; profane, ribald, a drunk
ard, a blatant infidel, and a sinner of most un
savoury reputation. He was past seventy years old

46 FAIRHOPE
and the community judged him a hopeless case so
far as reformation was concerned. He seldom at
tended church and whenever he did it was to sit in
the backmost seat to ridicule the preacher, blas
pheme religion, and take a vicious delight in bring
ing in view the family skeleton of the worshippers
as he sat there whispering to young fellows who
sat near him. Somehow, old Abe took a fancy
to young Vaughn who one day made the old man
a friendly visit, remained an hour, and never said
a word to Abe in criticism of his evil habits or
about coming into the church. The latter part of
the second week of the meeting old Abe began to
attend the services. Sitting in the rearmost seat
at first, he began gradually to sit further toward
the front ; and for the first time in the memory of
our community he made no criticisms or denuncia
tions of church members or preacher. One night
in the middle of the last week of the meetings,
Vaughn preached from the text, " And him that
cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out." It was
a very tender sermon showing the love of God,
and the invitation was pressed with impassioned
power. The invitation hymn was the old familiar,
" Just as I am without one plea, but that thy blood
was shed for me." The first stanza of that hymn
had scarcely begun when old Abe, utterly broken
in spirit and crying like a little child, came forward
and sinking down in the front pew, buried his tear-
stained face in his hands. His coming melted us
all; Jacob Boardman wept, most of the women

PROTRACTED MEETINGS 47
were sobbing, Vaughn was visibly affected, and
even Giles Shockley was moved.
Fairhope people are much given to handshak
ing, and during protracted meetings it has long
been the custom for our ministers to invite all who
wish to bid the new converts Godspeed, to come
to the front and give them a hearty clasp of the
hand. It is a homely, but a brotherly custom and
a revealing one, as well. A close observer, looking
on, would perceive that some shake hands stiffly
and in a purely perfunctory fashion, others shake
not only hands but arms also, and with the vigour
and motion of pumping water; but all with a
genial and sincere joy shining in their faces. In a
similar manner the hand of fellowship was ex
tended to the new members after their baptism,
and to those who came by letter from sister
churches. Usually the congregation stood during
the singing of some such hymn as,
" Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love,"
while the members left their pews, and in single
file passed down between the pulpit and the front
seat to extend the hand of welcome. We invari
ably shook the minister's hand, too, on such occa
sions; and there was power and praise in such
services. The night of old Abe Brocunior's conversion,
when Vaughn invited the congregation to greet
the new convert, nearly everybody responded; old

48 FAIRHOPE
and young, saint and sinner, went forward to wring
his hand and wish him well. All the ice went out
in the melting warmth of that closing service, and
the way was opened for two score more conver
sions. Best of all, the old man remained true to his
profession the remaining years of his poor broken
life. Another meeting, one held by Richard Marvin,
witnessed the conversion of Abner Sublett under
peculiar circumstances. Sublett was a substantial
farmer whose family were all in the church and
most interested in religion. He was a believer, but
he had so long postponed a public confession of
faith that it seemed he simply could not muster
up courage sufficient to take the step. Meeting
after meeting passed and he remained not unmoved
but still outside the Kingdom. Each time we hoped
and prayed that Abner would " go forward." In
terested he always was ; liberal in his contributions ;
never missing a service ; but still unresponsive to
the invitation. One night during protracted meet
ings we thought Abner was surely " going for
ward." The sermon profoundly stirred him; and
during the hymn of invitation he actually started
up the aisle, but got only to the next pew where
he stopped, gripped the back of the pew in front
of him with both hands, and could get no
further. Richard Marvin was at Sublett's for dinner dur
ing these meetings, a day or two after the service
in which Abner started up the aisle. After dinner

PROTRACTED MEETINGS 49
he and Abner walked out over the farm to look
at the stock, and particularly some fat cattle. It
was a glorious day in early October, one of those
golden days when the tinge of autumn is on field
and tree, and a slight haze hovers like a halo over
the land. As the two men strolled across the fields,
the minister could not resist the temptation to talk
to Abner about his soul and salvation.
" Abner," for Richard Marvin had been among
our people so long that he called many of us by
our first name. " Abner," he said, " God has been
good to you. What a grand farm you have. What
a comfortable home. What a fine family! Yet,
Abner, you have not honoured God as He has hon
oured you."
The old man was plainly agitated. He stopped
short and looked across the level fields toward the
house just visible in the clump of maple trees.
" You're right, Brother Marvin. Yet I want to
honour God. I want to confess His Son as my
Saviour. But somehow I can't go forward; my
legs give out, I feel as though I was going to fall.
I just can't go, I — "
" Abner," interrupted Richard Marvin, " do
you believe in Jesus Christ as your Saviour ? "
"That I do, with all my heart, Richard."
" Then let us pray right here and now," sug
gested Marvin. The two men knelt in that blue-
grass pasture with the fat cattle grazing near, and
the deep blue sky overhead. Marvin thanked God
for the confession of Abner Sublett, and prayed

eo FAIRHOPE
the blessing of the Father to be upon him and all
his household; prayed that God would give him
strength now to confess further his faith in the
ordinance of baptism, and to unite with the church.
Abner Sublett said " Amen " to that prayer. That
night Richard Marvin told the congregation in
Fairhope meeting-house of the confession taken
out in God's great out-of-doors, and announced
that Brother Sublett would be baptised the next
day in Woolper Creek. And again Fairhope's con
gregation wept in pure joy because another soul
had been borne into the Kingdom. Never did we
sing the long metred doxology more understand-
ingly than at that service. Far across the fields the
words were carried by the pleasant evening
breezes: " Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him all ye heavenly hosts,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."
Our baptismal services are usually impressive.
Our present meeting-house has a baptistry built in
it, but for the most part our converts are still bap
tised in the streams or the nearby Ohio River. To
this day our baptismal services stir me deeply.
Looking back over the stretch of years, I recall
several baptismal services that are indelibly im
pressed on my memory. Some of these baptisms
took place in the Ohio River, one such was during
the last protracted meeting held for us by Richard

PROTRACTED MEETINGS 51
Marvin. One Lord's day he baptised some fifteen
persons in the river. The place of the baptism was
at a bend in the river where the pebbled beach
sloped gently out from the shore-line to the deeper
water, an ideal place for such a service. To the
rear of us were the precipitous bluffs on the Ken
tucky side, and across the stream were the fertile
bottoms and the willow-lined shores of Indiana.
A large crowd was present and there was no dis
order or confusion. The candidates were led out
into the water up to their waists, and then after
the simple formula pronounced by the minister
they were gently lowered beneath the water. As
they emerged dripping from the stream, raised
up by the strong arm of the minister, the throng
on the shore sang one verse of,
" Happy day, happy day,
When Jesus washed my sins away;
He taught me how to watch and pray,
And live rejoicing every day."
The service that day was scarcely half over
when an excursion boat from Cincinnati swung
around the bend. This boat carried a steam cal
liope on which the musician had been playing popu
lar airs. Seeing the crowd, however, at the water's
edge, and noting the baptismal service — not an
uncommon sight even to this day along the river
— the calliope began playing, " Nearer, my God,
to Thee." The excursionists ceased their merry
making and very quietly and reverently watched

c2 FAIRHOPE
the beautiful and impressive service until the boat
had passed that point.
I recall another baptismal service conducted by
James Cowell at the same place in the Ohio River.
One of those baptised at that time was a frail girl,
named Searcy, the daughter of a tenant living on
the Walmsley farm. Her father was a raw-boned,
wildish sort of man, who objected vigorously to
his daughter joining the church, and had threat
ened to do bodily injury to any minister who tried
to " dip " Lina — that was his daughter's name.
However, the young girl courageously came along
with the rest and was in her turn led out into the
waters of the Ohio. Her father — his face dark
with anger — looked on from farther up the bank.
The girl, wan and frail, and unnaturally pale
probably from fright, looked like a being from
another world as she clasped her hands over her
thin breast and the minister pronounced the words,
" I baptise thee, Lina, in the name of the Father,
Son, and Holy Spirit." Then he gently lowered
her under the water, lifted her up again, and as
sisted her to the shore. By the time she and James
Cowell reached the shore, her father was at the
water's edge, having made his way quickly through
the crowd which fell back instantly to let him pass,
though some of the men were watching him closely.
But instead of offering any violence to the minis
ter, he put his arms around Lina and kissed her
on both cheeks. Turning to the minister he said,
" Brother Cowell, baptise me."

PROTRACTED MEETINGS 53
" Do you believe in Christ as your Lord and
Saviour? "
" I do," said Searcy. And divesting himself of
his shoes, hat and coat, he suffered himself to
be led out into the deeper water; and like his
daughter was buried with his Lord in the ordi
nance of baptism. How the men and women sang
" Happy day," as that man came up out of the
water! How they shook Bob Searcy's hands and
wished him well! The memory of that melting
service is as distinct to me to-day as though it
had occurred but yesterday.
Forty years ago it was not unusual for us to
baptise in midwinter when ice six or eight inches
thick had to be cut for the purpose. My mother
was baptised under such conditions, though I was
too young to remember it. But I have witnessed
some half-dozen baptisms myself in the coldest
winter weather. At such times as soon as the can
didates came out of the icy waters, they were
warmly wrapped in heavy blankets and taken to
the nearest farm-house for change of clothing. I
do not recall ever hearing of any one taking
cold from such exposures. I have seen Richard
Marvin in the late fall — when the water was
very cold — stand in a deep hole in Woolper
Creek for all of half an hour baptising people,
without the protection of rubber suits such as are
now used by ministers while immersing; and still
I never knew of his suffering any bad effects from
such a service in the chilly stream.

54 FAIRHOPE
It is probably true that some of our people at
tach too much importance to the ordinance of bap
tism. Giles Shockley and a few others held insist
ently that our sins were not forgiven till the act
of baptism was consummated. I heard Giles once
in a very heated argument with a minister of an
other communion in which he declared that if a
man was on the way to be baptised and a limb of a
tree struck him and killed him, he would die with
out any promise of forgiveness because he died un-
baptised. But this was extreme, and our best and
most spiritual minds never held to such a legalistic
view. Not long ago I was in a large city over Lord's
day and worshipped at one of its influential
churches. The building is beautiful and well ap
pointed, and there is a trained chorus-choir which
appeared the night I heard them in surplices after
the Episcopal fashion. The service, all in all,
was helpful; the sermon was strong and thor
oughly evangelistic; but the singing of the choir
impressed me most. And not especially because
their singing was so excellent, though it was such ;
nor because they wore surplices. Rather in spite
of that fact. But I remembered that service most
and longest for the reason that the second selec
tion sung by the chorus-choir was,
" O happy day that fixed my choice
On Thee, my Saviour and my God.
Well may this glowing heart rejoice,
And tell its raptures all abroad.

PROTRACTED MEETINGS 55
" Happy day, happy day,
When Jesus washed my sins away.
He taught me how to watch and pray,
And live rejoicing every day."
As the words and melody filled the spacious edi
fice, I lost sense of time and place and there un
folded before my misty vision the great bend of a
lordly river, the level pebbly shore, and a company
of men and women gathered there. The figure of
a broad shouldered man standing up to his waist
in the stream, lowering gently beneath the water
a calm and contrite young woman, and then raising
her dripping body up again, while on the bank two
score voices joined soulfully in singing, " Happy
day."

THE SINGING AT FAIRHOPE

THE SINGING AT FAIRHOPE
The singing in Fairhope meeting-house has expe
rienced almost as many vicissitudes as the preach
ing services; but on the whole our singing has al
ways been, I think, an edifying part of the worship.
For many years a singing school was an important
adjunct to the church and all members were urged
to enrol. Sometimes the congregation employed
the singing master, other times the expense was
met by individual subscription. Practically all our
older members were taught to sing in this way.
Forty years ago, and longer, Fairhope's congre
gation — almost to a member — could sing any
hymn the leader might " raise." Jacob Boardman
could lead congregational singing fairly success
fully up to a few years of his death. Our older
preachers were splendid singers and notably so
Richard Marvin.
The organ question which was long a bone of
contention in northern Kentucky churches, was
never serious with us. In the seventies we began to
use instrumental music in the Sunday School, and
in a few years the organ was heard in the preach
ing service as well. Some congregations were di
vided by the installing of the organ, but the objec
tion to its use in Fairhope was not considerable,
nor of long duration.
The first hymnal that Fairhope purchased and
used was without notes. It was a pudgy, fat, little
59

60 FAIRHOPE
book, possibly three by four inches, and full two
and one-half inches thick. It contained one thou
sand three hundred and twenty-four hymns, a
really great collection for that day. Some of the
selections in this hymnal are so far as I know, in
no other; and I recall one such in particular. It
is a tribute to the Bible, and the tune was " The
Old Oaken Bucket." I include it here in full, since
it revives the memory of the song service in rural
churches such as this present generation cannot
know; and likewise, the stanzas are fraught with
the spirit of reverence that our people felt and
loved to express for the Holy Scriptures.
" How painfully pleasing the fond recollection
Of youthful connections and innocent joy,
When bless'd with parental advice and affection,
Surrounded with mercies — with peace from on high !
I still view the chairs of my father and mother,
The seats of their offspring as ranged on each hand ;
And that richest of books, which excell'd ev'ry other,
The family Bible that lay on the stand.
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible,
The family Bible that lay on the stand.
" That Bible, the volume of God's inspiration,
At morn and at ev'ning could yield us delight ;
And the pray'r of our sire was a sweet invocation
For mercy by day and for safety thro' night ;
Our hymn of thanksgiving with harmony swelling,
All warm from the heart of the family band,
Has rais'd us from earth to that rapturous dwelling
Described in the Bible that lay on the stand ;

SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 61
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible,
The family Bible that lay on the stand.
" Ye scenes of tranquillity long have we parted,
My hopes almost gone and my parents no more,
In sorrow and sadness I live broken-hearted,
And wander unknown on a far distant shore ;
Yet how can I doubt a dear Saviour's protection
Forgetful of gifts from His bountiful hand !
O let me with patience receive His correction,
And think of the Bible that lay on the stand ;
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible,
The family Bible that lay on the stand."
Among the prime favourite hymns at Fairhope
were the time-tested " Rock of Ages," " Jesus,
Lover of My Soul," "Am I a Soldier of the
Cross," " How Firm a Foundation," " Jesus, I
My Cross Have Taken," and " One Sweetly Sol
emn Thought." " Beautiful Valley of Eden " and
" He Leadeth Me, O Blessed Thought " were also
much beloved, and often sung at the morning ser
vice. The latter hymn was Jacob Boardman's fa
vourite ; he sang it with a spiritual fervour that was
contagious and especially so when the second
stanza was reached.
" Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,
By waters still, o'er troubled sea,
Still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me."
Another hymn that was popular in my boyhood
days I have not heard for a score of years. It is a

62 FAIRHOPE
pilgrim hymn and our modern church life does not
take kindly to the "I am a Pilgrim, I am a
Stranger," idea. On the whole, even church people
are pretty well established in this present world;
and tolerably well satisfied with the life that now
is. The first stanza and chorus of the hymn I have
in mind has to do almost altogether with the Yon
der, and only a little with the Here :
" Here we are but straying pilgrims,
Here our path is often dim,
But to cheer us on our journey
Still we sing this wayside hymn.
Chorus: " Yonder over the rolling water,
Where the shining mansions rise,
Soon will be our home forever,
And the smile of the Blessed Giver
Gladdens all our longing eyes."
There were four stanzas to this hymn. We sang
them all without fail, and after each stanza the
chorus. It was the chorus that the people liked
especially for it was sung to a tune which gave a
sort of vocal description of a rolling river, and at
the time of a protracted meeting — when the in
terest was marked — it seemed to me that the
whole congregation swayed to and fro in uncon
scious imitation of the surge of great waves on
storm-tossed waters.
In the early eighties, Fairhope passed from the
era of congregational singing led by one of our

SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 63
musical brethren to a mixed choir of some six or
ten voices. For many years this choir rendered
splendid service. There were so many good voices
in it and they blended so admirably, that it was
a positive delight to listen to their singing of the
great old hymns. The congregation did not permit
them to do all the singing, but joined heartily and
melodiously in the worship of sacred song.
The number of good singing voices in Fairhope
has been unusually large; a fact that was often
commented upon by visitors from the city or
nearby churches. Some of our women had culti
vated voices, like Miss Clara Menifee whose rich
contralto fell sweet and true upon the ear. Sadie
Van Pelt possessed a high, clear soprano, and for
a decade her sweet tones came like a benediction
upon the sorrowing hearts who gathered in Fair-
hope meeting-house to pay the last tribute to their
blessed dead. Latterly, Lucy Patton with a voice
similar in sweetness and purity, has succeeded her
in that gracious ministry to the bereft. Major
Menifee's good bass contributed each Lord's day
to the worship; and Carter Goodpasture's high
tenor was truer than some of his stories of famous
horse races and the winning of fabulous purses.
The Van Gorder family perhaps more than any
other, enriched our services in a musical way.
Every member of the family could sing and the
girls were accomplished musicians. All in all, it
occurs to me that our church has been signally
blessed through the years in a membership able to

64 FAIRHOPE
raise their voices to God in the worship of spir
itual songs.
Yet, there have been times when our singing
was far from satisfactory; and like all churches,
Fairhope has had its experiences with persons who
believed themselves called of the Lord to exercise
the gift of song, but alas! were sadly deluded.
Such a one was Tobe McQuoid, who for many
years mildly terrorised every volunteer choir in
our community by attaching himself to it on every
possible occasion. Tobe was a member of a re
ligious body that had few communicants in our
neighbourhood, but he invariably contributed his
might to the singing wherever he worshipped. If
there was a choir he made a bee-line for it, no
matter how late his arrival at the church. If there
were no choir he took as conspicuous a seat as he
could possibly find in the front of the meeting
house. Tobe was a singularly ugly man. One of
his eyes was badly cast, and the pupil prone to roll
upward until only half of it was in sight, while the
other half concealed itself behind the fluttering lid.
Then, too, his false teeth were poorly fitted and
given to weird displacements during Tobe's vocal
gymnastics. It was scarcely an edifying sight to
watch McQuoid — ardent singer that he was —
as he quite forgot himself in the singing of some
familiar hymn. His bad eye — as if bidding fare
well to earthly scenes — would take its upward
turn; while at the same time his teeth shifted about
uneasily, threatening to leap from his capacious

SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 65
mouth. Still, one can get used to most anything
and the time came when we accustomed ourselves
at Fairhope — as did other congregations in the
community — to Tobe McQuoid in the choir or
on the front seat, singing with might and main.
Tobe was not a bad sort of man and hundreds went
to his funeral. The minister who conducted the
service had known McQuoid for many years ; and
I think in his selection for the Scripture lesson
that day he showed rare powers of discernment.
He read from the Revised Version the entire third
chapter of Philippians which contains the noble
passage, " For our citizenship is in heaven; whence also
we wait for a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ who
shall fashion anew the body of our humiliation,
that it may be conformed to the body of his glory,
according to the working whereby he is able even
to subject all things unto himself."
Another thorn in our flesh was Virgil Hornsey,
a member of Fairhope who reckoned himself to be
a singer with a versatile voice, which he certainly
was not. Virgil was an individualist pure and sim
ple when it came to singing hymns. He scorned to
do any kind of vocal team work and was wont to
be either far ahead or a considerable distance be
hind the choir and congregation. Virgil loved to
draw out the verses interminably and accompanied
the turns and twisting with a nasal twang that
was nerve wracking. If the hymn was " How Firm
a Foundation," Virgil would be in his glory for

66 FAIRHOPE
there is a tune that admits of infinite dragging.
About the time the congregation reached the top
of the hill with " What more can he say than to you
he has said," Virgil would be at the foot with
" His excellent word; " and as the others started
down the slope with " You who unto Jesus have
fled," Virgil would reach the top of the hill and
his loud nasal notes would twang out " have laid."
Fortunately, Virgil was easily winded and perforce
had to drop out after a vain and vociferous effort
to sing every selection to the end. Virgil — and
others like him — were not strangers to us; and
yet Fairhope had, I believe, fewer annoyances of
this kind to mar the singing than the average
church. We had a gracious number of sweet sing
ers in Israel and the memory of their voices raised
in praise to God is altogether refreshing.
On the whole, I believe that the singing in our
American churches is not so general, nor so good
as it once was. The city churches depend largely
on quartettes and chorus-choirs, while the singing
in the average country church is far from rever
ent. It will be a notable day for the rural church
when it restores the worship of God in congrega
tional singing. I praise the heavenly Father that
through so many years it was given me to enjoy
such full-voiced, congregational singing as filled
Fairhope meeting-house, and swelling in volume
and harmony, was wafted to the Father's throne
on high. And once again, before I set out upon
the Great Adventure, I should like to hear as in

SINGING AT FAIRHOPE 67
the old days, our rural church raise in tuneful mel
ody the praiseful hymn :
" O, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing thy grace :
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above ;
Praise the Mount, I'm fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love."

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS
For many years Fairhope has enjoyed in one way
or another the ministry of student preachers. The
proximity of our theological seminary — less than
one hundred miles distant — has of course made
this kind of ministry of easy access when a regu
larly settled minister was not obtainable. Some of
these young men ministered to us only as supplies;
others began their ministries while still in college
and later settled with us for a greater or lesser
period. Still again, we were served for brief pe
riods by ministers who for the entire time of their
service were residents at Lexington and matricu
lates in the college. Some of the most distinguished
ministers in our communion — men now occupying
metropolitan pulpits as well as editorial and pro
fessorial chairs — got their early ministerial train
ing at Fairhope. Indeed, Major Menifee used to
boast that Fairhope was a training school for most
of our big preachers. There certainly was truth
in part of the Major's comment at least; for fol
lowing the period that gave us such men as James
Cowell and Richard Marvin, there came another
period when the young minister used the rural
church simply as a stepping stone to a city charge.
Such a thing as settling down for a five or ten
year's ministry with a church even as strong and
desirable as Fairhope probably never entered the
minds of our young preachers since the middle
nineties. Nor did it enter our minds either. We
71

72 FAIRHOPE
accepted it as a matter of course that the bright,
young ministers would leave us as soon as a desir
able church should call them. And because of such
frequent change in ministers, Fairhope began to
suffer a slow but sure decline. Only our strength,
both numerically and financially, preserved us from
the quicker decline of less fortunate country con
gregations. Fairhope is rich in the traditions of student min
isters who have won conspicuous success in the
larger circles of our communion. The minister
of a noted church in the East, a man signally
honoured by a great Eastern university, preached
his first — and at that time his only — missionary
sermon in Fairhope meeting-house, and thereby
hangs a tale. This young preacher was sent into
our county by the Home Missionary Society to de
liver a missionary sermon at three of our churches
on the same day. He was to preach for us at Fair-
hope in the morning, in the afternoon at Point
Pleasant six miles eastward, and that night at Flor
ence, some four or five miles in another direction.
The young man boldly accepted the appointment,
determined to make one missionary sermon serve
for all three places. In the morning he spoke for
us much to our profit and pleasure. On the front
seat sat old Dr. Mcintosh, one of Florence's ven
erable communicants who by his patriarchal beard,
his fine head, and expansive brow, always attracted
the attention of visitors. Immediately after the
morning service the young minister was taken in

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 73
charge by a member of Point Pleasant's congrega
tion who entertained him for dinner, and got him
to the church just in time to fill his appointment.
Going into the pulpit the young man was dismayed
to see sitting on a front seat the same benignant
looking patriarch who had heard him with such
apparent interest that morning. Nonplussed not a
little, he went ahead and repeated the sermon of
the morning with apparent difficulty. At the close
of the service he was again hurried away; this
time by a member of the Florence congregation
who took him to town, entertained him at supper,
and escorted him to the church just in time to go
into the pulpit. And lo! complacently seated on
the next to the front seat sat the same venerable
man who had already listened twice to the same
sermon. The young minister's knees smote one
against the other when he saw him and realised
he was to have him for auditor the third time in
half a day. Vainly he tried to think his way
through a new line of thought, but gave that up
as impractical. So for the third time he started
in on the same sermon, attempting, however, to
rearrange his subject matter. Accordingly he in
troduced the sermon with the conclusion, and used
the introductory paragraphs later. But in so re
arranging the order he disorganised his thought
completely and made a most wretched failure.
After the benediction the young man tried to do
what I have observed nearly every preacher wants
to do when he has preached a poor sermon — flee

74 FAIRHOPE
like a bird to the mountains, or anywhere else
where the hiding is good. But escape was impos
sible. His host pounced upon him and marched
him straight up to the benevolent old man, ex
plaining the while " I want you to meet Dr. Mc
intosh. He is one of our most faithful members.
He likes to go to church though he's deaf as a
post. Fact is, he hasn't heard a sermon for ten
years! "
During the period of Richard Marvin's minis
try at Fairhope he was once assisted in a protracted
meeting by two student preachers from Lexington.
One of the young men conducted the singing, the
other did the preaching. They were likable young
fellows, very much in earnest, and thoroughly in
love with their calling. Haggard, the student who
did the preaching, lacked any sense of humour and
therefore began his ministerial career handicapped
to that extent. For of all men, it occurs to me the
minister in particular has need of a keen sense of
the ridiculous. At the time of this protracted
meeting there were two women in Fairhope church
who were not on good terms, by name : Mrs. Susan
Wingate and Mrs. John Sam Moller. They were
good women, too, despite eccentricities which were
marked in both cases.
Mrs. Wingate spoke with a decided lisp and
very rapidly. Mrs. Moller was a German and
spoke English brokenly. On the first Saturday aft
ernoon of this meeting the regular preaching ser
vice was preceded by an experience meeting. This

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 75
kind of a meeting at Fairhope was always informal
and consisted of quotations of Scriptures, brief
prayers, and occasional testimonies that were
largely of a personal nature. That day Mrs. Mol
ler took advantage of the opportunity afforded
and rose to her feet bent on airing her grievance
against Mrs. Wingate. Young Haggard was in
charge of the service, although Marvin was pres
ent and, also, the young brother who led the sing
ing. Mrs. Moller was excited and her speech was
rapid and thick. " Brothers and sisters," she ex
claimed, " chust look at Sister Wingate. She iss
a proudt, stuck up and haughty woman. She
shouldt already be turndt outdt of der church until
she iss humpled to her knees. She vill efer take
a frondt seat, avay up in der Amen Corner. She
shouldt be made to sit in der back part of der
meetin'-house. I tell you, she iss proud as Lu
cifer." Haggard, solemn as an owl, listened to Mrs.
Moller's accusations, but failed to get their drift;
and as she sat down much frustrated he said,
" Thank the Lord for those words."
Then Susan Wingate got up, her slim body trem
bling like an aspen leaf and tears streaming
down her face. " Brothers and Thisthers, you
have all heard the tharge Thister Moller hasth
brought againsth me. I am ath innocent ath a new
born babe. Nothing in my handsth I bring, thimply
to thy crossth I cling. I — "

76 FAIRHOPE
But Susan Wingate could go no further ; she sat
down and buried her face in her hands, her narrow
shoulders heaving with emotion. Haggard sur
veyed her with a sort of sanctimonious approval,
after which he pronounced in measured words the
benediction, " Praise the Lord for that testimony,
Sister. You have wrought well."
By this time most of the worshippers who had
sensed the situation from the first, were on the
point of explosion, so Richard Marvin got up and
said, " The young brother here will lead us in a
hymn." Whereupon Ellis, who was as overflowing with
a sense of humour as his colleague was devoid of it,
announced in unsteady tones, " Let us all sing
' Blest be the Tie that Binds.' " And they did.
Fairhope was generous to her student preachers
— to all her ministers, in fact. And I think it was
freely acknowledged at the Seminary that Fair-
hope was the most desirable country field in the
State, either for supply or for regular work. We
always paid our student preachers well, and that
is more than some congregations did.
A ministerial student once referred to the gen
erosity of Fairhope and contrasted it with another
church in a good-sized town where he had supplied
one Sunday. This young man was working his
own way by hard knocks. He kept himself in col
lege only by practising rigid economy and by turn
ing every honest penny possible. When he was in
vited to supply the pulpit of a rather well-known

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 77
church in a town at least one hundred miles from
Lexington, he fancied he could make as much as
ten dollars clear. He was entertained in the com
fortable home of an elder of the church who was
also the treasurer. Monday morning after break
fast his host asked him how much his expenses had
been. The student answered that six dollars would
just about cover his expenses. The elder nodded
his head and proceeded to take a buckskin bag out
of his desk drawer. He opened a bag which was
fairly stuffed with bills and loose change. Separat
ing slowly and painstakingly the one dollar bills
from the roll, he smoothed them out carefully —
well nigh reverently — one at a time upon his knee
until he counted six. Then he pulled the draw
strings of the bag together and handed the minis
ter the six bills with this oracular comment, " The
experience, my brother, ought to be worth twenty-
five more."
As a matter of fact, the young fellow was out
nearly a dollar in actual cash; and as he expressed
it, " The wear and tear on my clothing, to boot."
Another young man preached for us a year — a
self-made stripling who also had to watch his cor
ners in order to get through his college course. He
wore celluloid collars when travelling, to reduce his
laundry bills. He wore spotless linen in the pulpit
and upon other occasions that required careful at
tire ; but invariably through the week days or on
the train, he wore the celluloid collars. One of
these collars was once a bad actor in a rather try-

78 FAIRHOPE
ing experience in Fairhope neighbourhood. He
was called from Lexington to conduct the funeral
of a little girl whose father had taken kindly
to this minister though he, himself, was not a mem
ber at Fairhope. The young minister came wear
ing a celluloid collar which he replaced with a
linen one, making very quick change in an upstairs
room. Just before going down for the service he
wrapped the collar tightly in a newspaper and put
it in a little hand valise along with some books
and other belongings. This valise he took down
stairs and set it in the corner of the room where
he was to conduct the service. Just as he was
ready to begin and had already opened his Bible,
he happened to recall having left in the valise the
volume which contained a poem he intended to
read. The room was filled with people who
watched curiously the minister when he walked
over to his valise and opened it. As he reached for
the book lo! that collar which he had wrapped
up tightly in the newspaper suddenly let go and
like a living thing leaped out of the valise, and
rolling out on the floor made two complete circuits
of the open space where the people were not
standing and came at last to a stop in the very cen
tre of the room, and lay there as though resting
from the exertion of cycling about so gaily. Now
the incident was much more ludicrous to see than
it is to tell; the sight of that collar leaping out
of the valise, twice circling that room, and coming
to a stop in the centre of the floor, was hard on the

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 79
young fellow's nerves. But he met the situation
admirably. He captured the collar, put it back in
the valise, shut it up safely, and went on with the
services as if such a freakish incident was of daily
occurrence. During one of several interims when we were
without a regular minister, a student preached a
trial sermon that impressed us favourably. He was
earnest, at ease, and the subject matter of his
sermon was especially good. That afternoon the
elders met at Boardman's to consider calling the
young man. Sitting in the shade of the big elm
trees, they discussed the young preacher. On the
whole, they were decidedly favourable to extending
the student a call and had practically so decided
when Giles Shockley rode up on his sorrel mare.
He dismounted, hitched his horse, flung a curt
" Howdy, brethren," at the little group, and at
once addressed Boardman.
" I'd like to see your copy of The Living Pulpit;
I loaned mine to Lee Roberts over at South Fork
and he still has it."
Boardman went into the house and came out
with the volume which is a collection of some
twenty-eight sermons by our eminent preachers,
and was published in the sixties. Shockley took the
book, turned rapidly several pages, found the place
he was looking for, glanced at a paragraph or two,
and handed the open volume to Boardman.
" There, sir," and Giles pointed a long, bony
finger at the open pages. " There, sir, is the ser-

80 FAIRHOPE
mon we heard in Fairhope meetin'-house this
mornin'. I thought I knew where he got it, but I
wanted to make sure."
Giles was right. There was the sermon almost
word for word as Fairhope people had heard it
that morning. Boardman passed the book to Ma
jor Menifee who read it out loud to the little
company on the lawn, and when he had finished
our elders were unanimous in the opinion that Fair-
hope could get along without the services of that
particular student.
The sermon that evening was not nearly so able
as the morning one, which fact led Giles to observe
sagely, " That effort, I reckon, was his own."
The young fellow was so greatly disappointed
in his failure to receive the call that on his return
to Lexington he wrote asking Jacob Boardman
the reason. Boardman, who overflowed with the
milk of human kindness, possessed also a fine sense
of justice, and his answer was but a single line:
" The reason why you failed to receive a call to
Fairhope is ' Living Pulpit' pages 327-338.
And that answer, I fancy, was sufficient.
It was a student preacher who delivered the
most talked of funeral sermon ever preached in
our county. He was a very young man whose ex
perience was meagre, but he possessed powers of
initiative that were considerable. This incident
had for its setting not Fairhope, but one of our
congregations in the southern part of the county.
That church — South Fork by name — was min-

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 81
istered to by a student preacher who being ill sent
as supply his room mate. When this student got
off the train at a town on the eastern border of the
county, he was told of the sudden death of a prom
inent member of South Fork Church, and that he
would be expected to conduct the funeral service
on Sunday afternoon. The man was a prominent
farmer, a well-to-do man with wide acquaintance.
All funeral services in our county are largely at
tended and Sunday funerals in particular. On this
occasion the church was crowded. There were a
dozen or so Fairhope people present: Carter,
Goodpasture, Giles Shockley, Major Menifee, and
my father, among others. The young preacher had
a great occasion and he proposed to use it to the
fullest. It was a good sermon and wisely so, for in our
section a failure at a funeral is much more serious
than at a regular service. It was a good sermon,
but like the proverbial cow that gave the big bucket
of milk and then kicked it over, this minister
spoiled it in the end. It happened that this farmer
had been married before; and this fact of his
first wife's death, together with other incidents of
his career, had of course been told to the preacher.
Just at the close of the sermon the young minister
gazed compassionately upon the widow sitting with
the children and other mourners on the front seat ;
and to the amazement of all his hearers, and the
poorly concealed amusement of the irreverent, he
commiserated, " You weep and mourn to-day, for

82 FAIRHOPE
yours is a heavy loss. But let us rejoice for this
man's sake. His is all gain: he is with his first
wife now."
I don't think the young minister meant to put
it that way but he did. And having said it he was
wise enough not to attempt a revision. To this day
no new minister is permitted to come into our
county without being regaled with the account of
this incident. For weeks after, it occasioned com
ment far and wide. The young man who made this
unfortunate statement now occupies a rather con
spicuous and important pulpit, but I suppose no
modicum of success has ever enabled him to quite
forget that funeral service.
A student in his junior year at Lexington once
conducted a protracted meeting for us which was
more than ordinarily successful. He had a won
derful memory, was an interesting talker, and a
great lover of poetry, quoting much in his sermons.
One night he recited Mrs. Alexander's " Moses,"
another " Tell Me Ye Winged Winds," and in a
sermon on " Mother," he quoted with good effect
all of " Rock Me to Sleep, Mother, Rock Me to
Sleep." Major Menifee enjoyed the young fel
low immensely, and the meetings were at
tended by large audiences. There were a num
ber of accessions, and a husband and wife
transferred their membership from a neighbour
ing church between which and Fairhope there
was considerable rivalry. It was while this meet
ing was in progress, and after the husband and wife

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 83
had come, that George Van Gorder met Mrs.
Jonas Ryland — a prominent member of the
neighbouring church referred to above, a peppery
soul, and afflicted with a high-pitched, keen, fal
setto voice.
" Have you been out to hear our evangelist? "
pleasantly enquired George.
Mrs. Ryland gave her head an angry toss and
in a higher keyed tone than usual, shrilled back,
" No, and I ain't a-goin'. No need to. I got a
book of poetry at home."
Fairhope favoured good oratory. Like all
southern people, we are susceptible to fluent speech
and impassioned eloquence. We had for supply
one Lord's day a student known far and wide in
college circles for his oratory. He had won sev
eral medals, and when he entered the ministry he
had no difficulty in securing a church. He was a
gifted young fellow with a musical voice and un
usual ability in an oratorical way. It happened that
at the time this young Beecher visited us the Van
Gorders were giving a house party and he was
entertained there. There were a half-dozen at
tractive girls from Covington and others from
some of the smaller towns down the State. For
that matter, none of the visiting young ladies was
more attractive than the Van Gorder girls them
selves — Jennie and Louise ; Jennie being a belle
in our community. This young minister was some
thing of a lady's man and he took to that house
party like a starved pig to a big feed of corn.

84 FAIRHOPE
The young folks had a very enjoyable Saturday
evening together; and on Sunday morning, of
course, the entire house party went to church with
the Van Gorders. The girls — some eight or nine
in number — sat well up toward the front. The
meeting had been widely advertised and the young
preacher was feeling in fine mettle. He had evi
dently brought his best sermon and he became ob
sessed with a great desire to preach so as to leave
an indelible impression. He spoke with grace and
power, gradually working toward a climax that
was striking and meant to be tender and pathetic.
He was dwelling on the thought of the brevity of
life — its disappointments and its withheld com
pletions, and was contrasting with such fragmen
tary experiences the fruition of hopes that heaven
held for all who are faithful to the end. Then he
lost himself in the very sweep of his own elo
quence, and instead of saying that there would be
no vacant chairs or no broken family links in the
Better Land, he said with tremendous fervour and
intense feeling at the end of a long paragraph,
" My good people, in heaven there will be no
broken chairs, no vacant lots, no — "
But the sight of those girls trying their best to
keep their faces straight and failing utterly, to
gether with a realisation of what he had said,
brought our young orator's conclusion to a most
untimely and unrhetorical stop. I have seldom felt
sorrier for a man. It completely collapsed him.
He was like a drowning man who had given up all

OUR STUDENT PREACHERS 85
hope of rescue and was resignedly going down for
the third and last time. The effect of the sermon
was spoiled irrevocably. The poor fellow was so
embarrassed that when he presided at the com
munion table a little later, he spilled some of the
red wine on the snowy cloth; and if there had
been any honourable way of his getting back to
Lexington without facing the Van Gorders' house
party again, I am sure he would have taken it.
The pastorate of such a church as Fairhope was
not without its great compensations. Some time
ago I read an article in one of our religious jour
nals by a man now quite noted who as a student
was a minister at Fairhope. He was writing about
the country congregations and of the experiences
of a minister in such fields. Among other things,
he said, " The man who goes to the ministry of a
city church without ever having been a country
pastor is to be pitied. His education is not com
plete. He is lop-sided. He has missed something
fine, something fragrant and beautiful, something
that he can get nowhere else. Three years of my
own life — three of the greatest and best and most
fruitful years — were spent as the minister of a
country church, for which I thank God."
All of which leads me to believe that Fairhope
has had a part in shaping and sweetening per
haps, the Kingdom of God. And even if that part
be small, I cherish the belief that it has been emi
nently worth while.

A HOUND OF THE LORD

A HOUND OF THE LORD
I suppose that every church has at least one self-
appointed heresy hunter who scrutinises the
preacher's sermons with painstaking care for pos
sible departures from the straight and narrow path
of orthodoxy. Giles Shockley held this office in
Fairhope church to the amusement of some of us,
the dismay of a few, and the good natured toler
ance of all.
In appearance, Giles was a little weazened man ;
about five feet four inches in height; with a great
shock of coarse, black hair which he wore brushed
back from his high forehead in pompadour fash
ion. He was the fiercest looking little man I ever
saw. He had a thin hatchet face, a large hooked
nose, and little beady, black eyes that fairly bored
a hole through any one whom he chanced to be
lieve was unsound in the faith. Giles was nothing
if not sound in doctrine, and since his voice was
all out of proportion to his body in bigness, it
seemed to us that he was pretty nearly all sound.
Giles possessed a really extraordinary knowledge
of the New Testament, a copy of which he always
carried with him — the same marked at certain
proof-texts; a fact which Giles took much pride
in and often put on exhibition.
Richard Marvin, so long Fairhope's beloved
minister — a level-headed, clear-thinking man —
once referred in a private conversation to Giles
Shockley as " a hound of the Lord " and the phrase
89

90 FAIRHOPE
was most appropriate. Giles could follow the
scent of heresy as closely as a hound the hot trail
of a fox; and in so doing Giles believed himself
" not slothful in business, serving the Lord." Of
all types of preachers, he most preferred the mili
tant kind and a debate on a religious topic was his
delight. Giles' favourite book of the New Testa
ment was Acts of the Apostles, and his favourite
chapter was the second; the thirty-eighth verse of
the same, his ringing challenge to all seekers after
God : " And Peter said unto them, Repent ye, and
be baptised every one of you in the name of Jesus
Christ unto the remission of your sins; and ye shall
receive the gift of the Holy Spirit."
In the evangelistic message of our ministers,
certain " first principles " of the Gospel were in the
earlier days stressed in season and out of season.
These first principles were held to be Faith, Re
pentance, Confession, and Baptism; and were
sometimes spoken of as the steps by which the
sinner came into the Kingdom. Not long ago I
heard a minister say in a sermon at Fairhope that
the real first principles of the Gospel are God,
Christ, Man, Sin, and Eternal Life ; and what we
had been pleased to term first principles were for
sooth second principles. I do not know as to this.
I will leave that to the theologians. But in the
early days at Fairhope, whatever the topic of the
preacher, he was certain to close his discourse
with Faith, Repentance, Confession, and Baptism.
Giles Shockley was a " first principle " man, and

A HOUND OF THE LORD 91
he held tenaciously that no sermon was a Gospel
sermon that failed to present these steps into the
church. It was his custom to sit in a front pew
from which vantage place he followed the words
of the preacher with undivided attention. In a
way, Giles was a terror to young preachers ; for if
they misquoted a text or failed to preach the Gos
pel as Giles believed it, they would be sure to
hear from him.
One Lord's day a student-preacher from Lex
ington was supply at Fairhope as our regular min
ister was holding a meeting for a church in another
part of the State. This supply was a conscien
tious, earnest, young man ; but very timid and self-
conscious. In the course of his sermon he quoted
several passages of Scripture and before he was
through the first one Giles fished out his New Tes
tament with a flourish and turned rapidly to the
verses the student was attempting to quote. No
sooner was the service over than Giles rushed up
to the young fellow and addressed him bluntly.
" Brother, you are in grave danger of God's
wrath. You failed to quote God's Word correctly.
Don't you know what Almighty God says in Rev
elation about those who treat His Word so shame
fully? Listen!"
And Giles then and there read from his little
Testament, in a booming voice that everybody in
the meeting-house couldn't help but hear, " I tes
tify unto every man that heareth the words of the
prophecy of this book, if any man shall add to

92 FAIRHOPE
them, God shall add unto him the plagues which
are written in this book : And if any man shall take
away from the words of the book of this prophecy,
God shall take away his part from the tree of
life, and out of the holy city, which are written in
this book."
The young minister looked as though he were
going to faint. He was white as a sheet, and his
speech as he tried to reply was thick as a drunken
man's. It was Jacob Boardman who came to his
rescue. That dear old saint walked right up past
Giles, brushed him and his New Testament aside ;
and putting one arm around the student's shoul
ders, he seized his limp hand in his vise-like clasp
and congratulated the young preacher warmly.
" My brother, that was a good sermon. You
gave us a heap to think about, enough to keep us
busy the rest of our lives. Come home to dinner
with me; and Giles," the old man turned to that
hound of the Lord, " Giles, if you'll put your book
up and try to follow Paul's advice — not to be
have yourself unseemly — you can come along.
Otherwise, not."
And Giles went for, much as he liked to argue,
he liked Jacob Boardman's dinners more.
Whenever we had a preacher on trial, Giles
was in his element as a sermon-taster. We formed
a habit of asking Giles after a trial sermon what
he thought of it. The Lord's day Harmon Vaughn
preached on trial we were greatly pleased, all ex
cept Giles.

A HOUND OF THE LORD 93
"What did you think of him, Giles?" some
one asked after the service.
" He won't do," said Giles. " He took his text
from the Psalms. The Old Testament is the Jew's
Bible, not the Christian's. That fellow ought to
hire to a synagogue. He's a rabbi more than a
Christian minister."
However, Giles's bark was worse than his bite.
Having had his say, Giles usually lapsed into a
rather ostentatious resignation; always came to
church whether or not he liked the preacher; and
if the sermon was other than doctrinal, he sat
through it listless-like with a bored expression on
his face. But let the preacher grow argumentative,
and Giles came to life and interest like a fire horse
at the tap of the bell.
In connection with Giles sitting in judgment on
trial sermons, there occurred one of the most amus
ing incidents in Fairhope's history. We were with
out a regular minister, and a man had come on
trial; a preacher, too, of some experience and no
little ability — one known to us only by reputation.
It was on a Lord's day in early fall. The meet
ing-house was crowded and Giles Shockley sat in
his seat of the mighty, ready to approve or damn
as the case might warrant. The time for the
sermon came ; the preacher arose and gave out as
his text, Roman 13: 8, " Owe no man anything."
Then, for half an hour, he preached against the
sin of debt and especially of church members fail
ing to pay their just obligations. It was the first

94 FAIRHOPE
and last sermon on that topic I ever heard in Fair-
hope, and a most unusual subject for a trial ser
mon. Some reflection, however, leads me to be
lieve this theme for a trial sermon was wisely
chosen. It would have been quite impossible to
preach such a sermon among a people the minister
knew without a feeling that it was personal and
meant to be such.
Now Giles Shockley was notoriously lax about
paying his debts. He was not dishonest exactly but
as George Van Gorder once put it, " Giles is as
slow about paying his debts as sorghum molasses
in zero weather." And Carter Goodpasture in
Beagle's store one day, happening to see a bill
against Giles, advised Beagle to " write Giles
Shockley's bills on parchment so as to save sta
tionery." Imagine Giles listening critically to a sermon on
such a subject! The preacher struck out from the
shoulder, too, and among other things he said
that a church member who made himself conspicu
ous by occupying a front seat and could and
wouldn't pay his debts, did the cause more harm
than an out and out infidel. Poor Giles! The
preacher could not have hit him harder in a ten
derer spot if he had known all about him. At
first Giles' slight figure seemed to dwindle and he
sank deep down in his pew. Then he stiffened his
body, sat bolt upright, and with poorly simulated
relish listened to what must have been the most
depressing sermon he ever heard. All over the

A HOUND OF THE LORD 95
church the situation was sensed at once. Some of
the irreverent folks nudged one another and
grinned broadly. Mother and Father exchanged
knowing glances, and as I looked at the benevolent
face of Jacob Boardman — apparently deeply in
terested in the sermon — I saw the play of a
humorous twinkle in his calm grey eyes.
As soon as the service was over Giles made for
the door as quickly as he could without attracting
further attention. He tarried very little on the
way and once outside hurried to his horse, un
hitched her, and swung into the saddle. Just then
Carter Goodpasture hailed him.
" Say, Giles, how did you like that sermon? "
Giles' reply was not audible, but the look he
flung at Carter was almost profane. He gave
his sorrel mare a dig in the flank and went clatter
ing off down the pike in a cloud of dust.
We failed to secure this preacher, though it was
not our fault. He was too high-priced. I suppose
Giles was immensely relieved when he heard that
we were not to have as minister a man who
preached on the evil of debt with as much vigour
as other ministers preached on hell.
Only once did the mild tolerance of Fairhope
folks for Giles' high-handed ways give place to
well defined disciplinary measures. It all came
about through Giles' suspicion of Harmon
Vaughn's orthodoxy. Vaughn was the first of our
younger ministers to give a rather wider interpre
tation to the Gospel message than we had been

96 FAIRHOPE
accustomed to hear. Moreover, he preached much
on the practical phases of the Christian faith and
seldom on doctrinal topics. There was distinctly
a new note in Vaughn's preaching; and none of the
old militant, dogmatic sort. A favourite theme
with Vaughn was that of Prayer, and he was the
first minister to introduce into Fairhope's service
the repeating of the Lord's Prayer in unison by
the congregation.
Giles was ill at ease from the first at this new
order of things, and let it be known that in his
opinion Vaughn was " wise above that which is
written." At first our people paid little attention
to these criticisms for we were used to Giles and
had every confidence in Vaughn. Then Giles began
to exhibit a clipping of an article Vaughn had
written for The Christian Record. In this article
the young preacher protested against what he
called " an overstressing of primary principles and
a consequent neglect of Christian conduct and de
velopment in the devotional." In one paragraph
of the article Vaughn had used this sentence, " I
believe we might profitably keep baptism in the
background." One Lord's day Giles read this
clipping to a little group of our members at a
basket-meeting given by a neighbouring church;
and then proceeded to enlarge on Vaughn's state
ment on baptism, growing eloquent as he pro
ceeded. "You hear this, brethren!" he exclaimed.
" Keep baptism in the background ! Baptism in

A HOUND OF THE LORD 97
the background! Wasn't Christ baptised? Didn't
He tell us to preach the Gospel to all nations,
baptisin' them in the name of the Father, Son,
and Holy Ghost? Why this man Vaughn may be
one of those wolves that the Apostles said would
come among us in the latter days."
It was at this point that a Fairhope man inter
rupted Giles and advised him to put the paper in
his pocket and attend to his own business. Giles
mumbled something about this being his business.
The outcome of it was that our elders — Jacob
Boardman, Judge Patton, Clay Menifee, and my
father — invited Giles to meet with them in a
conference of a private nature. We never knew
exactly what took place there; though the report
sifted its way through the congregation that Jacob
Boardman, speaking for the eldership, gave Giles
some very plain and vigorous advice and then
took his three brother-elders and Giles, also, home
to dinner with him and the matter was a closed in
cident. Giles never went any further in his attempt to
undermine Vaughn for heresy in the matter of
baptism or anything else. Surprising as it may
seem in view of his early suspicion, he actually
warmed up to Harmon Vaughn and came to re
gard him affectionately. The change was not
gradual; it was sudden, but sure. And the reason
was a striking sermon that Vaughn preached on
the Divinity of Christ. The argument was not
especially new, but there was an originality of

98 FAIRHOPE
arrangement; and it was delivered with so much
force and fire that Giles was captivated. From the
hour of that sermon's delivery he became a stout
champion of Harmon Vaughn.
A little more than a year after Shockley's change
toward Vaughn, the former took to his bed with
a malady that perplexed and baffled the doctors and
it soon became apparent that he could not get
well. Vaughn went to see him often, read selec
tions from the Scriptures, and prayed with him.
Our hound of the Lord knew the end was coming
so found great comfort in the minister's visits.
Yet, to the last he retained his eccentricities and
faint traces of his heresy hunting.
The day before his passing Vaughn was with
him for several hours, in the course of which he
read from the Scriptures and offered prayer at his
bedside. Familiar with Shockley's favourite pas
sages the young minister opened his New Testa
ment and after reading the eighth chapter of
Romans, turned to Acts and began to read the
second chapter. Giles feebly motioned him to
stop. " Not to-day, Brother Vaughn. It's a great
chapter. You do well to preach from it often. But
I wish you'd turn to Luke fifteen and read me
that instead ; and read it all — even the part about
the prodigal's brother."
Vaughn read — read it all — read it tenderly.
The sick man listened attentively to the preacher's
words. When he had finished Giles spoke, but in

A HOUND OF THE LORD 99
tones so weak and faint as scarcely to resemble his
once strong voice.
" Thank ye, Brother Vaughn. Thank ye.
You've been good to come and see me often. I
didn't like ye at first. I believed ye were not true
to the Gospel, but I'll take it back. Ye air. Your
sermon on the Divinity of Jesus Christ proved that
ye air. But, Brother Vaughn," — Giles' black eyes
were fixed upon the serious face of the minister
bent now so close to his own, — " my advice to you
as a dying man is to press first principles a leetle
more."
The next day Giles died. We gave him a large
funeral; and forgetting his failings, remembered
only his virtues. In Fairhope meeting-house the
Lord's day after Giles Shockley's death, as wor
ship began, I glanced toward the pew the little
man had occupied for so many years, and a lump
came into my throat, and I saw but dimly through
the mists his vacant place.

A MODERN ENOCH

A MODERN ENOCH
Jacob Boardman was for forty-five years a mem
ber of Fairhope, and for thirty-seven years an
elder. A goodlier, patienter man never lived. He
was of Welsh descent on his father's side and his
mother was Scotch and deeply religious. He was
a Pennsylvanian by birth, and when a young man
he came to northern Kentucky. By trade he was
a wagon-maker, but he took up farming shortly
after his arrival in Boone County and became one
of our substantial men, rearing a large family in
the fear and admonition of the Lord, and con
tributing in numerous ways to the good of the
community. In appearance Jacob Boardman looked the great
and good soul he was. In later life he resembled
the pictures of Ralph Waldo Emerson. He was
large of frame ; a strong, vigorous man. His head
was massive, his nose prominent and aquiline, and
his face in a rugged way was almost classic. With
the exception of side whiskers, " squirrel tails " he
called them, his face was clean shaven with a wide
expressive mouth and strong resolute chin. His
eyes were especially notable, being deep blue in
colour and twinkling always with good humour
and affection for all mankind. Save a slight palsy
which affected his hands and made him a trifle
unsteady on his feet, this man passed his three
score and ten with eyes undimmed and much of his
natural force unabated. 103

104 FAIRHOPE
Jacob Boardman's life was a curious compound
of joys and sorrows, of success and failure. Bur
dens that would have crushed completely a less
resolute soul, he carried with singular and un
ruffled patience to the end. Twice he faced bank
ruptcy through the financial failure of friends
whose promissory notes he had endorsed. In one
instance he was saved from the utter loss of all his
earthly possessions by the sudden death in a rail
way accident of the man he had befriended and
whose life insurance policy to the amount of two-
thirds of the debt had been made over to his bene
factor. In the other instance only the sale of a big
part of his land saved him from a financial crash.
For twenty years his faithful wife was a helpless
invalid and his oldest son, John — just as he was
coming into his majority — was drowned in the
Ohio River during one of the spring floods. An
other son, Jerome, was left after a short and criti
cal illness, a helpless cripple for life; and no one
whoever heard Jacob Boardman refer to him as
" my afflicted son " could ever forget the exquisite
tenderness of his voice. Then his favourite daugh
ter, Mary, married unwisely; and her life was
made miserable by the scoundrel-husband who a
little while before he abandoned her, forged the
note of his father-in-law for a thousand dollars
and got safely away with the money. Yet, not
withstanding his misfortunes, Jacob Boardman's
life was lived joyfully in his Christian faith and
without loss of confidence in his fellow-men. Such

A MODERN ENOCH 105
another optimist it has never been my good for
tune to know. Those eyes could see a long way
off, past the disappointments of the present to the
New Jerusalem God was rearing for His children.
And a more playful, even roguish man never lived.
Boardman was a kind of lay-preacher. He
could make a very acceptable speech on most any
Biblical topic; and occasionally when no preacher
was available he would, if requested, conduct a
funeral service. He could do this as well as many
a minister and better than some I have known. In
public prayer he was exceptionally gifted and on
numerous occasions I have known him to lead
a congregation to the throne of God in simple, yet
powerful prayer.
His unfailing charity was perhaps never more
characteristically shown than at Len Crutcher's
funeral. Len was one of our community's ne'er-
do-wells, a little-account sort of man, lazy, im
provident, and a notorious prevaricator. But, like
many another shiftless man, he was blessed with
as good a wife as ever any man had. Sarah
Crutcher was as industrious as Len was lazy, and
for her sake we were all inclined to be more tol
erant of her husband's trifling ways than we would
otherwise have been. Sarah asked Jacob to speak
a few words and offer a prayer at Len's grave
side and, of course, that dear old saint promised
to comply with her request. When it was noised
about that Jacob Boardman was going to speak
at Len's funeral we agreed that the old man had

106 FAIRHOPE
undertaken a difficult task. A minister who was
unacquainted with Crutcher's life might have gen
eralised glitteringly and so made out well enough,
and even if he eulogised him some we would have
excused it on the grounds that he didn't know Len.
But our Modern Enoch knew all about Len
Crutcher, knew him as George Van Gorder put it
" to the tune of two hundred dollars." And so
this was the sort of man Jacob Boardman had for
subject in Fairhope cemetery one afternoon late
in September in the presence of nearly one hun
dred neighbours brought together through com
mingled curiosity and concern.
With uncovered head, his grey hair fluttering
in the soft breezes that swept across the level
fields, the old man spoke in his straight-forward,
whole-hearted fashion.
" Neighbours and friends," he said, " we have
come to lay away all that is mortal of Len
Crutcher, and comfort as best we can his faithful
wife. I want to say a word or two about him to
day that I think ought to be said. Every man has
at least one good point and Len had his."
This statement caused a mild flurry among us,
and I suppose nearly every man and woman pres
ent — excepting perhaps Sarah Crutcher — was
hard driven to call up a single good point of Len's.
The silence was intense. We were all ears. Jacob
continued :
" Len was a good whittler, I may say an ac
complished whittler; in fact, the best all-round

A MODERN ENOCH 107
whittler this community has ever known. I don't
know how many elder pop-guns and willow whis
tles Len made for the children of this neighbour
hood, but I reckon a hundred at least. You all will
recollect the Perkinses that used to live down on
Garrison. There was a big family of 'em and they
were as bad off as Job's turkey. Poor little chaps !
One day I happened to pass by that place and what
should I see but the whole passel gathered about
Len Crutcher who was a-whittlin' 'em out wind
mills as fast as he could make the shavin's fly.
Many a little shaver's had a heap of fun all because
Len Crutcher whittled him out a toy, and I'm be-
lievin' the good Lord'll not forget even a willow
whistle whittled out for the least of His children.
Brethren, let us pray."
As I bowed my head I saw Major Menifee jab
bing his handkerchief into his eyes, and then some
how — well, like the blind man of Bethsaida, I
saw men as trees.
Many men cease to grow in mind, especially in
their religious views as they grow older. But not
so with Jacob Boardman. He grew ampler in
mind and soul as the years came and went. Unlike
the figure on the coin, he looked forward always.
One Lord's day a number of us were at the Board
mans for dinner, Giles Shockley among others.
The conversation turned to some of the newer
methods in Sunday School work. Giles — always
a stickler for the old paths — claimed to be too
old to learn new ways and in justification of his

108 FAIRHOPE
views quoted the familiar adage, " You can't teach
an old dog new tricks."
" No, Giles," Boardman rejoined, his eyes
twinkling merrily, " you can't, that's a fact. But
the reason you can't is not because the dog's old,
mind you ; but because he knows a lot of old tricks
and is too lazy to learn any new ones."
Our modern Enoch was a generous man in his
gifts, and particularly so with his church. Long
before the tithe was taught from the pulpit, Jacob
Boardman gave more than that proportion of his
income to the Lord's work. He was the most
liberal member at Fairhope though by no means
the wealthiest. He was one of the few men I have
known who would make a note at the bank in order
to pay a church pledge or make a gift for for
eign missions. He was jealous for the dignity and
credit of the church in financial affairs. I once
heard him make a plea in Fairhope meeting-house
for more liberal subscriptions in which he said,
" We talk about being as poor as a church mouse.
Why should a church mouse be poorer than any
other mouse? For my part, I believe a church
mouse ought to be the fattest, sleekest-looking
mouse in the land and if we all did our bounden
duty that proverb — or whatever you call it —
' poor as a church mouse ' — would die a natural
death." As the old man thus spoke he beamed benignly.
Carter Goodpasture, who was sitting next to me,
leaned over and whispered in my ear, " Davy, no

A MODERN ENOCH 109
man ever was as good as Jacob Boardman looks."
Jacob Boardman never turned from his door a
seeker for food or lodging no matter how un
toward the seeker's appearance or condition. His
reason for holding himself rigidly to this rule was
due to his generous spirit of hospitality; but more
to an experience of his early manhood while trav
elling in the West. He once found himself in a
sparsely settled portion of Kansas with night com
ing on and no signs of a habitation of any sort in
sight. He was on horseback and in a country en
tirely new to him. About midnight he came upon
a little sod house where he was cordially received
by the lone occupant — a melancholy visaged man
who saw that his nocturnal guest was made com
fortable. In the morning Boardman attempted to
pay for his lodging but his host would accept noth
ing save the promise that Boardman would never
turn away a stranger from his own door. That
promise our Modern Enoch faithfully made and
kept, and it was as if by some mysterious process
that that promise had been communicated to every
member of the tramping fraternity. All sorts of
men: pedlars, agents, and occasionally a woman
itinerant, seemed instinctively to turn aside when
they came to Boardman's house by the side of the
road. Moreover, for a radius of some five or six
miles in every direction, various families helped to
supply the Boardman home with guests of this
kind by informing enquirers for lodging that Jacob
Boardman never turned any one away.

no FAIRHOPE
Some of these guests that fate sent the Board
mans were to say the least annoying and a few of
them paid their host for his kindnesses in strange
ways. One night there stopped a pilgrim of the
pike who claimed to be some sort of Holiness
preacher. On going to his room this devout itin
erant prayed so loud and long that he disturbed
the entire household. But before daybreak he de
parted with a package of a half-dozen new shirts
which his host had purchased two days before in
Cincinnati. Another whilesome guest — a sort of castaway,
weather-beaten, and eccentric — was so pleased
with his entertainment that he insisted on settling
down there for the rest of his days and was finally
removed to the county infirmary with some diffi
culty. Finally in order to protect his family, but still
keep his promise, Boardman built a one-room
structure in the yard back of his house, furnished
it simply but comfortably, and lodged his itiner
ant guests there. It was in connection with this
practice to turn no one away from his door that
a few of us made the old gentleman a victim of
a practical joke.
Carter Goodpasture and George Van Gorder
had been spending the day with us and the former
was the originator of a plan to test out the Board-
man hospitality to the fullest. My sister Alice, who
had taken part in private theatricals and who had

A MODERN ENOCH in
some histrionic ability, was the star performer.
By the help of a grey wig, a rakish old bonnet, a
plaid shawl, a black skirt soiled and frayed around
the edges, she looked very much like some poor
outcast woman. To complete her disguise she
rubbed a small amount of soot over her cheeks and
on this background painted at irregular intervals
ugly splotches of red, giving them special prom
inence on her chin and forehead. Over her dark
and speckled countenance she fastened a veil which
once had been black but was then green with age.
Bending nearly double and leaning on a gnarled
staff, it was a veritable scare crow that made its
way up to the Boardmans' front door in the twi
light of a November day. We had taken Mrs.
Boardman into the secret and her interest in the
hoax was keen. Alice knocked sharply and when
Jacob opened the door she asked in a tremulous
voice, " Good sir, may I have lodging for the
night?" The old man peered at her curiously. The dis
guise was perfect. She was, indeed, a very repel
lent old hag. Jacob threw open the door, invited
her inside, and bade her be seated. She explained
that she was from over the river on her way to
visit her daughter at Petersburg; but was ill, could
go no farther, and was seeking lodging for the
night. " Sir," she said, simulating the high, tremulous
voice of an old and feeble woman, " I'm afeard

112 FAIRHOPE
I'm goin' to be sick. I'm afeard I've got some-
thin' catchin.' Do you know small-pox when you
sees it? "
Just then she raised her veil disclosing those
terrible splotches against the background of what
looked like a very dirty skin. For once in his life
the old man seemed nonplussed. He got up from
his chair plainly agitated ; but before he could make
any reply Alice broke into peals of laughter, threw
off her bonnet, veil and shawl; while the half-
dozen conspirators who had remained on the out
side filed into the room and mingled their laughter
with the rest. No one enjoyed the joke more than
Jacob Boardman. He laughed long and heartily.
By-and-bye, Carter Goodpasture ventured the re
mark, " Boardman, I reckon you'd keep the devil
himself, if he asked for lodging! "
The old man's eyes twinkled and he chuckled,
" Well, Carter, I reckon I've entertained the old
Harry unawares several times."
Jacob's optimism was of a kind that made cheer
fulness contagious. For many years he always in
corporated one sentence in his prayers at Fairhope
meeting-house. " Lord," he would pray, " we
thank Thee for this beautiful day." Sunshine or
storm, rain or snow, stifling heat or bitter cold, it
was all the same to that serene soul, it was a
" beautiful day."
One midsummer when the corn was in tassel and
the prospect for a big yield never better, a terrific
hail storm swept our community. It wrought havoc

A MODERN ENOCH 113
on all sides, but nowhere more seriously than in
a forty acre field of flourishing corn belonging to
him. It cut the corn into ribbons, levelled most of
the stalks with the ground, practically ruining the
crop. The storm came on Saturday, and the fol
lowing Lord's day Jacob was in his place at church.
At the communion table he offered thanks for the
loaf and he prefaced his prayer with a sentence
which led us to wonder if a more trustful soul ever
breathed. " Lord," he prayed, " we thank Thee for the
sunshine, the rain, and the hail." There was not
the slightest quaver to his voice when he pro
nounced the word " hail," and his countenance was
as free from scowl or frown as is the month of
July in northern Kentucky from a killing frost.
Jacob Boardman's level-headedness and fine
Christian spirit were never seen to better advan
tage than on an occasion when the matter of dis
ciplining some of Fairhope's young people for
dancing was an issue. To-day I do not know of
any church — either city or rural — which disci
plines its young people for indulgence in popular
amusements ; but twenty-five years ago it was not
an unusual thing for some of our rural churches
to take such action. One of our neighbouring
churches withdrew membership from three or four
young people from one family for dancing, and yet
permitted the older members of that family to re
tain their standing in the church although they
played cards. The act of this congregation, so in-

ii4 FAIRHOPE
consistent and unwise, was productive of much ill-
feeling and in the end resulted in the entire family
leaving that church ; the older people putting their
membership with another congregation, and the
young people taking no further interest in the
church. So far as the most of us were able to see,
the act of this neighbouring church was productive
of far more harm than good.
Only once did popular amusements become an
issue at Fairhope, and how Jacob Boardman met
it is an interesting episode in the annals of our
congregation. In the early nineties several of our
young people — at least two from the families of
Fairhope's elders — attended dancing parties,
some of them participating. The dances for the
most part were the old-fashioned kind with the
Virginia Reel as a special favourite. The matter
came to be talked about a great deal and called
forth considerable criticism from some of our mem
bers. The continual agitation brought the matter
at last before a called meeting of Fairhope's board
of officers which was composed of the elders and
the deacons. Major Menifee presided and after
calling on Jacob Boardman for prayer, the Major
stated briefly the object of the meeting, and asked
for a free expression of opinion from those pres
ent. Giles Shockley was very naturally present at
this meeting and was in favour of disciplining the
young people. He took the position that the Scrip
tures clearly indicated such procedure, that Paul
had advised the churches to withdraw from every

A MODERN ENOCH 115
one who walked disorderly, and that in his opinion
dancing was disorderly to a shameful degree.
Franklin Van Pelt — one of our substantial
members — a man with a strain of severity in his
make-up — was also of the opinion that the young
people should be dealt with summarily. He held
that church membership ought to mean something :
that such amusements were worldly, and that
the church and the world were at enmity. In fact,
Van Pelt went so far as to move that the guilty
parties be suspended for six months and restored
to full membership only on their full promise not
to have any part in worldly amusements.
It was at this juncture that Jacob Boardman got
up. The old man spoke slowly, very kindly, yet
emphatically. He said that he had never danced,
didn't know one card from another, and with the
exception of seeing Joe Jefferson in " Rip Van
Winkle " he had never been to the theatre in his
life. But he was most decidedly opposed to any
action on the part of the church toward suspend
ing the young people from church for dancing or
any other popular amusement. He held that the
Scripture as cited by Giles Shockley did not apply
to the case in hand; that the spirit of Christ was
all the other way; that the young people needed
in those tender years of their lives the help of the
church, not its opposition; and that no more un-
Christlike thing could be done than for a church
of Christ to withdraw fellowship from the young
lives committed to its love and care. As he ap-

116 FAIRHOPE
proached the conclusion, the old man warmed up.
" Brethren," he admonished, " if we are going
to discipline our members in this way let's start
with the old members — not the young. And first
of all we might start with us elders. We are none
too good, and there is not one of us that doesn't
have some besetting sin. For example, now there
is Major Menifee — one of the grandest men we
have. Yet, the Major takes his toddy, we all know
that; and while I don't suppose he was ever in
toxicated in his life, yet the Major knows as well
as I do that that is a bad example for the young.
" Then there is Judge Patton," he continued.
" The Judge does like horse flesh powerfully well,
and as we all know he races some of his own
horses. And I suppose there isn't anything the
Judge takes more pride in than the prizes he has
pulled down at the County Fairs with that speedy
little mare of his, Jenny Lind. Probably the Judge
never gambled on a horse of his own or any other ;
but horse racing — even of a genteel sort — is not
the best business for an elder of a church. No
body knows that better than the Judge, himself.
" Then, here is my faithful neighbour, David,"
he said, at the same time putting his hand affec
tionately on my father's shoulder. " David's the
best neighbour in the world, and one of the best
citizens we ever had in this county. But David's
not over enthusiastic about foreign missions, and
if he's ever made a decent gift for the heathen
abroad I've never heard of it.

A MODERN ENOCH 117
" And as for myself, I — " Every man there
unconsciously bent forward, curious to learn what
Jacob Boardman's besetting sin was. "And I,"
confessed the old man, " why, I chew tobacco, and
even an Arkansas razor-back hog won't do that ! "
That meeting adjourned without any action in
disciplining a half-dozen of our young people. But
I happen to know that Jacob Boardman saw and
talked with each one of those young folks. What
he said to all of them I do not know, but what he
said to one I remember to this present hour- and
I do not think I shall ever forget it. God be
praised for such a man!
Jacob Boardman's passing was as his stay in this
world: patient, unafraid, with something of the
playful spirit which had made him so beloved
among us. His last word — if one could call it a
word — was characteristic of the man. His illness
was of short duration and from the first critical in
the extreme. His last day on earth he lay quiet and
in a stupor, apparently suffering not the slightest
pain. Toward evening he seemed to be just alive
and the members of the family were about his bed.
He lay with his eyes closed, his breathing so
gentle as to be scarcely observable. Anxiously the
grief-stricken family bent over him, seeking ea
gerly for the slightest evidences of life. He opened
wide his eyes and for a single second seemed
dazed and unable to comprehend. Then hearty
recognition came into those steady blue eyes and
pursing his lips as if playing " hide and seek " with

118 FAIRHOPE
a little child, he said very gently and distinctly
" Booh! " Then observing the astonishment writ
ten large on the faces of his loved ones, the fine
old countenance relaxed and a most beautiful smile
spread over the familiar features, the weary eyes
closed never to open again on the scenes of time
and change.
Thus died Jacob Boardman, died as he had
lived. For all of his life he had been saying
" Booh " to the burdens and sorrows and disap
pointments that had so often confronted him ; and
of all the men and women I have known, no one
was so well prepared to say " Booh," to death as
our Modern Enoch.

MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY

MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY
Major H. Clay Menifee, the most cultured and
polished of Fairhope's men, still abides in the flesh
— the sole survivor of a group of men who were
prominent figures in our community forty years
ago. He was a student of our famous old college
referred to elsewhere in these annals, but in his
second year the Civil War broke out and this dash
ing nineteen year old youth threw himself heart
and soul into the cause of the Southland. He
fought all through the bloody conflict; was
wounded at the battle of Shiloh; and when the war
closed he came out a major, though not yet twen
ty-four years old.
The Menifees have long resided in northern
Kentucky and Oak Knoll — their fine old home
stead — is about the only house left showing the
style of architecture which prevailed in the further
south during the ante-bellum days. Judge Stan
hope Menifee, the Major's father, died when I
was a small boy and I have only a hazy memory of
how he looked; but I have heard my father and
mother as well as the Major, talk a great deal
about him.
Judge Menifee had been a friend and enthusi
astic admirer of Henry Clay and once entertained
that distinguished statesman at Oak Knoll. One
of the keenest disappointments of Menifee's life
was Mr. Clay's failure to reach the presidency.
Quite naturally, Judge Menifee named his first and
121

122 FAIRHOPE
only son Henry Clay, and that son grew up to
revere fully as much as his father the traditions
and memories of the great Kentucky orator.
After the war, Major Menifee practised law in
Lexington and there he married a lovely girl who
was an accomplished dramatic reader. They went
to Europe on their honeymoon and on their return
settled in Lexington. One year later the beautiful
young wife died, leaving a baby boy who was
named Henry Clay Junior. The death of his wife
prostrated Major Menifee and radically changed
his life plans. He gave up his law office and took
up his residence at the old homestead. With an
unmarried sister, Clara, to look after little Henry
Clay Junior, and two or three negro families on
the place as servants in the house and help about
the farm, the Major settled for life in Fairhope's
community. Our neighbourhood welcomed the
Major warmly and his return to the old home was
an epoch in our community life. He supplied to
our section of the State something of the old tone
and quality which with his polished manners and
outlook upon the world, became to us a thing of
pride. His was one of the few old families that
preserved the traditions and customs dear to the
southern heart and so much admired by people
everywhere. No visitor's sojourn in our commun
ity was complete until he had partaken of the
Major's hospitality. For many years the Major
was the only man in our community who wore —
without fail — to church and other formal gather-

MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 123
ings a long-tailed, double-breasted, frock coat with
a white waist-coat and grey worsted trousers.
Sometimes he varied the frock with a shad-bellied
coat which style well became his rather portly
figure. When he went into the city or to Lexing
ton, or took a trip of moment, he wore a silk hat
and carried a cane. He wore a moustache and a
short, pointed beard which early turned from black
to grey. To this day his complexion is fresh and
ruddy, and his eyes are full of sparkle. There is
an indefinable charm about the Major; he carries
atmosphere ; he is an interesting and gallant gen
tleman. The Major's love for his son was touching. He
idolised him, and from the hour of his birth his
career was planned in detail. He should study law.
He should be an orator! He should be a public
man! He should go into politics! And maybe
some day be governor of the State, or United
States senator ! Who knew what the boy might not
do ? Had he not the finest heritage and an environ
ment that was all that could be desired 1
To this motherless boy Miss Clara Menifee was
a second mother. If the Major was a gentleman
of the old school, his sister was a lady of the
same type. She was a lover of polite literature;
a great admirer of the English poets; and shortly
after Henry Clay Junior learned to read, Aunt
Clara had him memorising Pope, Dryden, and
Shakespeare. The boy grew up, as it seemed, fa
voured by God and man. Even as a little lad he

124 FAIRHOPE
showed the favour of the Creator. His face was
moulded and rounded out like the marble statues
of the Greek youths. He had the wide orator's
mouth, and clear, dark eyes that could flash fire
when he was aroused. He took to public speaking
just as naturally and as soon as the duckling takes
to water. From the time Henry Clay Junior
started to the district school till he entered high
school in Covington, there was never any speaking
programme in Fairhope community that he did not
have the prominent place. He memorised easily
and retained wonderfully what he read. Even as
a little boy he declaimed with grace, simplicity,
and force. He was unaffected, genuine, and lov
able ; and became the pride of our entire commun
ity. We saw that he had in him the making of a
great public speaker, and we rejoiced whole-heart
edly in the modest and yet radiant enthusiasm of
his father.
When Henry Clay Junior was about fourteen
and ready to start into high school at Covington,
there occurred an event that greatly influenced his
life. Richard Marvin was holding a protracted
meeting at Fairhope and the interest was marked.
Young Menifee had been reared in the church and
had been taken there first as a mere child. He
made confession of faith the first Sunday of the
meeting, much to the joy of our people and the
deep emotion of his father and Aunt Clara. That
very afternoon on the way to the river to be bap
tised, Henry Clay Junior confided to his father

MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 125
that he purposed giving himself to the ministry
instead of to law; and so sincere and earnest was
the lad in his confidence that the Major assured
him since it was his choice of careers he should
follow his inclination and receive his father's sup
port. So it became known to our community that
Henry Clay Junior was to be a preacher and not a
lawyer. Fairhope people were greatly pleased
with this change in the life plans of the favoured
lad whom we all so greatly loved. Jacob Board-
man informed my father that he had expected just
such a decision on the boy's part, and both to
Boardman and my father Major Menifee declared
his purpose freely.
" The boy wants to preach," he said, " and
preach he shall! There never has yet been a
preacher among the Menifees and it's time there
was one, and he must be a good one. I'll give
Henry Clay Junior the best college and university
training possible and when I'm through, together
with what God's done for him, what his mother
did for him, and what he'll do for himself, he'll
grace Central's pulpit at Cincinnati or any other
pulpit in the land."
Then in the next breath the Major begged par
don for what might have seemed a boastful spirit.
Bless the gallant gentleman! I always felt that
Henry Clay Junior was mighty lucky to have such
a father. Henry Clay Junior finished the four years high
school course in Covington in three years, sweep-

126 FAIRHOPE
ing before him as he went along all the prizes in
debate and oratory, and the while he continued
to grow in favour with God and man. By the end
of his high school course he had grown almost as
tall as his father — and the Major is a six footer.
His fine face grew in mobility; his voice was a
rich baritone, musical, mellifluous ; and he was as
likable as ever. There was nothing stiff or formal
about him; he overflowed with fun and his laugh
was contagious, so hearty it was. He was active
in church work in the city, often spoke at Christian
Endeavour meetings, presided as toastmaster at
banquets, and was leader in classes; all the while
bending everything toward his chosen career —
the ministry. Richard Marvin greatly loved the
boy, who in turn regarded him almost as a demi
god. He used to spend frequent evenings at the
Marvin home conversing about prominent minis
ters, the construction of sermons and books, and
the various phases of a minister's career.
Not only our community idolised and loved this
lad, but there was one especially whose interest in
Henry Clay Junior was very considerable. Judge
Patton lived just opposite Menifee's and his young
est daughter, Lucy, and Henry Clay Junior were
about the same age. As children, they played to
gether and were sweethearts even as romping play
mates. When young Menifee was in high school
in Covington, Lucy was in a boarding school in
Cincinnati; for as Major Menifee trained his son

MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 127
for the ministry, Judge Patton fitted Lucy to be
Henry Clay Junior's wife, for it was very early ac
cepted in our community that these two young
people would marry. Neither one of them ever
had another love affair, so far as we knew. Lucy
was the first girl that Henry Clay Junior ever
took to a party, and Carter Goodpasture once
said that if ever matches were made in heaven that
of Henry Clay Menifee Junior and Lucy Patton
was one such. They were very different in temper
ament: he was full of life, playful, and buoyant
of nature; she was a quiet girl, and grew up to
be a demure young woman, sweet and winsome.
She was a blonde — not beautiful like Jennie Van
Gorder, and lacked her dash and brilliance. She
was an accomplished musician and possessed a sing
ing voice of uncommon sweetness.
When Henry Clay Junior entered college at
Lexington in the fall, Lucy Patton was enrolled
as a student in the Women's College affiliated with
the university. Fairhope followed with deep and
abiding interest the careers of these young people
who were our joy and pride. We heard from the
Major or Miss Clara — usually from both — of
the success Henry Clay, Junior met with from the
first. We learned the name of his literary society,
his Greek letter fraternity, and of his progress in
his studies. We knew of his entrance into the pri
mary for the inter-collegiate oratorical contest, and
of his easy triumph in that skirmish. Then we

128 FAIRHOPE
learned the date of the inter-collegiate contest and
for that event Major Menifee, Aunt Claras Rich
ard Marvin, and I journeyed to Lexington.
That inter-collegiate oratorical contest was a
memorable affair, colourful, and vociferous.
Never shall I forget it. Morrison Chapel was
crowded with buoyant, effervescing young life.
The noise of the rooters from the various insti
tutions represented was deafening. There were
streaming banners and college yells in profusion.
The excitement was intense. The Major, Miss
Clara, Richard Marvin, and I were honoured with
seats well toward the front. There were six con
testants and Henry Clay Junior was his glorious
self. The other speakers were good, two of them
especially so; but from the moment Henry Clay
Junior faced that audience and uttered the first
sentence of his oration, I knew the prize was won.
His theme was " Men Rise on Stepping Stones of
Their Dead Selves to Higher Things." He
showed the uses of adversity, the making of char
acter in the overcoming of difficulties. He was at
perfect ease, there was no straining for effect. At
times he grew impassioned, and I could feel the
subtle influence of his magnetism. The Major be
came restless, and I could see by the expression of
his face that he was nervous; but pride and love
shone in his eyes. As for Aunt Clara, she sat there
prim and proud, looking upon her foster son in
frankest adoration. Henry Clay Junior won, and
immediately the chapel became a perfect tide of

MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 129
struggling humanity. The lucky fellow was seized
by his college mates and hoisted upon their shoul
ders, while another group unceremoniously gath
ered up the Major and carried him out in the hall.
The cheering and the waving of banners was a
perfect pandemonium. The Major's cheeks were
flushed; his fine, immaculate shirt bosom crumpled.
It was a great moment in his life. If it had been
at all proper, I am sure the boys would have served
Miss Clara precisely as they did Henry Clay Jun
ior and the Major. As it was, Miss Clara was the
centre of a group of young fellows who all but
hugged and kissed her with the untrammelled ar
dour and enthusiasm of college boys. Richard
Marvin was so pleased with the outcome that he
hugged me, beat on the floor with his cane, and
shouted as loud as any sophomore in the chapel.
The oratorical contest was in March. Late in
May of the same year Henry Clay Junior preached
his first sermon in Fairhope meeting-house. He
had been speaking at religious meetings at the
university, in the churches at Lexington, and had
on several occasions supplied pulpits for some of
the students, but this was his first appearance in
Fairhope's pulpit. It was a radiantly beautiful day.
Fairhope looked her fairest. The green in tree
and field was velvety in its hue. The whistle of the
cardinal and the sweet warble of the bluebird made
music in the trees about the church. The fragrance
of apple blossoms was on the breezes and the sun
shine was golden and glorious. The meeting-house

130 FAIRHOPE
was crowded. There were people present from
nearby churches and some from points farther
distant. The occasion was such as might be ex
pected to bring out the very best that was in this
gifted lad. Lucy Patton was back from Lexington
and sat in the choir. I could hear her high, clear
voice as we sang,
" Beautiful Valley of Eden,
Sweet is thy noon-tide calm."
Jacob Boardman was in his place, Giles Shock-
ley sat in the " seat of the mighty." It was a
sympathetic congregation, and there was not a
man or woman there that had aught but pride and
love in their hearts for Henry Clay Junior. I r&-
member his text, for it was a familiar one. It was
John, the thirteenth chapter, thirty-fourth and
thirty-fifth verses, " A new commandment I give
unto you, that ye love one another ; even as I have
loved you, that ye also love one another. By this
shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye
have love one to another."
I wish I could repeat that sermon. I can only tell
that I felt its power, that in its very simplicity there
was a charm that held us. There were some
places in it exceedingly tender, and as we listened
we knew that in this lad was genius, wonderful gift
of speech; and I speculated whether any preacher
ever gave more promise than Henry Clay Junior.
I can see now the faces of the people as I recall
that day; and out of the many I can see three

MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 131
with peculiar distinctness. One of them was Major
Menifee. As he sat there and listened, I saw his
strong, ruddy face moistened with tears; and I
wondered then — as I wonder now — if there
arose before him the vision of the young and
beautiful wife who gave her life for her child?
There was Aunt Clara, pride and joy written all
over her aristocratic features. And I see the spir-
ituelle face of Lucy Patton. There I saw that
which was in neither the face of the Major nor
Aunt Clara's. Just what it was, I cannot say; but
joy and pride and love were all there, and more !
That summer came and went, and the sombre
tinge of autumn began to appear upon field and
tree. In September Lucy Patton and Henry Clay
Junior returned to Lexington. Scarcely a month
had passed before we learned one day from the
Major that typhoid fever had broken out among
the students at the University and that of the
boys who boarded at the dormitory, some thirty
were in the Good Samaritan Hospital smitten with
the fever. From the first the Major was concerned
although Henry Clay Junior did not board at the
dormitory. Still, he had several friends who lived
there and with whom he frequently visited and
dined. Thus the Major and Miss Clara were nat
urally fearful.
In a day or two their fears were realised, for
there came a telegram saying that Henry Clay Jun
ior had taken the fever and was in the hospital.
The Major and Miss Clara left that night for Lex-

132 FAIRHOPE
ington and then for some days we watched the
mails eagerly. We received several reports that
were encouraging. Then there came a brief letter
to Judge Patton from the Major in which he ex
pressed dissatisfaction with the progress the boy
was making. The next day father had a post card
saying Henry Clay Junior was not doing so well.
Then for two days we had no word at all.
Well do I remember the evening of October 28
of that year. Supper was over, but we were sitting
about the table talking. My sister Alice had just
asked if any news had come from Lexington when
there was a loud knock at the side door and be
fore any of us could answer it, the door opened
and Jacob Boardman groped his way like a
drunken man into the room. His fine old face was
pallid and his eyes were red.
" Dave," he cried, " he's gone. The lad's gone.
Henry Clay Junior is dead." And then he sank
into a chair, burying his face in his hands and
sobbing like a child.
We were dumb with the shock of it all, though
father finally found his voice and said in a low
tone as if to himself, " My God, what will the
Major do? "
Then my sister Alice broke out in violent weep
ing. " Oh, poor Lucy Patton," she wailed.
By and by Jacob Boardman got control of him
self sufficiently to tell us the telegram had come to
Lawrenceburg, Indiana, and had been brought
over that afternoon. He took out the yellow sheet

MAJOR MENIFEE'S BOY 133
and handed it to me. I read aloud its one laconic
line: " Henry Clay Junior died 2:15 this morning.
Menifee."
I don't know how we all lived through the next
three days. It was as though there was a death in
each of our homes. Fairhope's community was
stricken low. The Major, Miss Clara, Lucy Pat
ton, and the body, arrived from Covington the
next evening; and were met by Jacob Boardman,
Judge Patton, Richard Marvin, and my father.
That night the old Menifee mansion held all that
was mortal of its heir and our bonnie preacher-boy.
I shall not attempt to give an account of the
funeral in any detail. Fairhope meeting-house was
crowded, and many were unable to get inside, that
October day. The sun had been behind the clouds
since early morning and as the people gathered for
the service there was a slight rain. I have heard
Richard Marvin preach scores of funeral sermons
and all of them were strong — even beautiful in
their messages of comfort. But I never expect to
hear again such a sermon as he preached that day.
His text was the first clause of Genesis 21:20,
" And the Lord was with the lad."
He sketched Henry Clay's life among us, his
natural gifts, and his great opportunities that came
to prepare him for his life work. He reminded
us how God was with the lad in plenitude and
power and grace. " And now," he said, " the lad

134 FAIRHOPE
is with the Lord, and greater goal than this the
world holds not."
Such comfort ! Such hope ! Such faith ! As
we listened, smitten low with grief, we were con
scious of a healing calm and sensed the presence
of the Great Physician.
When the procession left the meeting-house the
rain had ceased, though the sky was still overcast.
But as the body of Henry Clay Menifee Junior was
lowered into the grave the sun came suddenly out
from behind the bank of clouds and the mellow
light shining through the dripping trees cast a
rainbow of great beauty and brilliance upon the
eastern sky.

AS SOME TALL CLIFF

AS SOME TALL CLIFF
The name of Richard Marvin appears often in
the annals of Fairhope church and most rightfully
so, for of all our ministers this Godly man was
identified with Fairhope the longest in point of
time as well as closest in the blessed bonds that
bind the shepherd to his flock.
Marvin was the preacher I first remember, both
in our home and in Fairhope's pulpit. He was an
all-round big man, and there was nothing small
about him from his number eight hat to his num
ber ten boots, from his strong mentality to his
great brotherly heart. He was well equipped edu
cationally, being an alumnus of our oldest college
— the one founded by the great and good man to
whom reference is made in the second chapter of
these annals. Not only was Richard Marvin a
graduate of that institution during the presidency
of its founder, but he was also a pupil in one of
the classes taught by that eminent scholar.
Large man that he was physically, Marvin was
quite lame from an injury which he received when
a boy at play. The remainder of his life he walked
with a cane, and toward the close he used both a
cane and a crutch. He was a strong preacher, pos
sessing a resonant voice of much volume and a
choice vocabulary of good, strong Anglo-Saxon
words. Fluent of speech, he was also logical and
coherent in his power of analysis ; and he was ca
pable when fully aroused of a sustained and im-
137

138 FAIRHOPE
pressive eloquence. To this day — and it has been
all of twenty years since I have heard him — I can
recall distinctly a half-dozen or more of his ser
mons as to texts, illustrations, and even his line of
argument. For example, he had an unique and ex
ceedingly helpful sermon on the word " So." He
built the discourse upon three passages of Scripture
in which the word occurred, as follows :
John 3: 16 — " For God so loved the world
that He gave his only begotten Son, that whoso
ever believeth on Him should not perish but have
eternal life."
Acts 4:1 — " And it came to pass in Iconium
that they entered together into the synagogue with
the Jews and so spake that a great multitude both
of Jews and Greeks believed."
Matthew 5 : 16 — " Let your light so shine be
fore men that they may see your good works, and
glorify your Father which is in heaven."
No one ever quite forgot this sermon, so
uniquely and impressively did the preacher work
out his emphasis on this little word, with applica
tions to every day living that were wholesome,
pungent, and pointed.
It has been my observation that some ministers
are especially gifted in the conduct of funeral ser
vices, and of all the preachers I have known Rich
ard Marvin was the most graciously gifted in this
respect. A funeral sermon by Richard Marvin was
memorable. It was worth going miles to hear. He
was so well balanced, never stiff or formal as some

AS SOME TALL CLIFF 139
good and well meaning ministers are at such times.
He spoke such ample comfort; his own faith was so
unshaken in the goodness of God, and his sympa
thy with those bereaved was so unmistakable, that
he kindled anew into flame the Immortal hope that
sometimes burns low in the breast of the bravest
of earth. He conducted funerals in all sorts of
weather, in all parts of our county, and for all
kinds of people. He never refused to answer a
call of that kind if he was able, and since he was
seldom sick I doubt if he missed a half-dozen ser
vices in fifteen years.
Marvin was particularly effective in his conduct
of funeral services for children, and when eight
years old Lydia Lucy Walmsley was killed by a
fall from a horse, his sermon assuaged a grief that
prostrated her parents and smote the hearts of us
all. She was the only child of Dave and Sarah
Walmsley, and the apple of their eyes. She was a
dainty little girl with an abundance of flaxen hair
which curled naturally and fell in ringlets about
her sunny face. Marvin had married Dave and
Sarah, was often a guest in their home, and he
could not have loved a child of his own more de
votedly than Lydia Lucy. His grief was so poig
nant at the funeral that he controlled himself only
by the exercise of strong will power; and his face
was moist with tears throughout the service. He
read from the eighth and ninth verses of the
eighth chapter of Genesis: " Also he sent a dove
from him to see if the waters were abated from

140 FAIRHOPE
the ground. But the dove found no rest for the
sole of her feet, and she returned unto him in the
ark, for the waters were on the face of the whole
earth. Then he put forth his hand and took her,
and he pulled her unto him into the ark."
" Lydia Lucy Walmsley was like the dove Noah
sent out from the ark," he explained. " She flitted
here and there among Fairhope's neighbourhood
where everybody loved her and still she found no
permanent resting place for her busy little feet.
Like Noah, God put forth His hand and has taken
her back into the heavenly ark; yea, to His own
bosom. God's welcome to Lydia Lucy was ever so
much tenderer than Noah's welcome to the dove,
for He welcomed her as Jesus did the little ones in
Galilee nineteen hundred years ago when He said,
' Suffer the little children to come unto me and
forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of
God.' "
Thus it is possible to show something of this
good man's manner of speech on those occasions
when strong men and women are bowed to earth
as a mighty wind bows the trees of the forest, but
the large sympathy of the man and the atmos
phere of his unshaken faith — these cannot be con
veyed by the printed page. Marvin possessed in
rich quality the shepherd heart without which
no man, however gifted, can ever be a really great
preacher. He was the kind of minister whom one
instinctively turns to in time of trouble, and to be
with him for an hour or so was to confirm the

AS SOME TALL CLIFF 141
strongest faith and re-establish the weakest in the
great virtues of our religion.
Marvin also officiated at many weddings. He
married hundreds of couples in northern Kentucky
the twelve years he ministered at Fairhope and the
additional years he resided at Covington. His
fund of anecdotes and incidents growing out of his
experiences at weddings, was well nigh inexhausti
ble. Out of a number I recall one in particular.
Marvin was called down in the southern part of
the county to marry a couple who were utter
strangers to him. He made arrangements for a
horse and buggy at a livery barn in Millersburg.
Just as he was ready to drive away, he said to
the liveryman who was a friend of long standing,
" Now, I'm going to marry a couple this evening
and I'll either pay you your regular price for this
rig, or I'll give you half the wedding fee."
" It's a bargain! " said the liveryman. " I'll be
satisfied with half the fee you get."
Marvin married the couple and after the cere
mony the groom, a brawny six-footer, said, " Par
son, I'm a thousand times obliged." And that was
all there was to it.
Marvin got back some time the next day, and
leaving the horse and vehicle in the barn, he said
to the liveryman, " I'm five hundred times obliged
to you." " Yes, I know," said the liveryman, " but
where's half the fee you promised? "
" That's it," answered Marvin. Then he re-

1 42 FAIRHOPE
peated the groom's words. They both laughed
heartily, and not a cent would the liveryman take.
Marvin was greatly blessed and most ably as
sisted in his ministry by his wife. Few ministers
were ever so fortunate in their choice of a life com
panion. Mrs. Marvin was a help-meet of singular
temperamental and spiritual equipment. She was
genuine, affectionate, tactful, and wholesomely
good to look upon. If her husband had been a
much less efficient man and minister, his wife's
strength and beauty of character would have car
ried him safely over many a shoal where other
wise he would have made ship-wreck. It was little
wonder that our people loved Richard Marvin and
his wife who never having had children of their
own, poured out so bountifully their parental love
upon their brothers and sisters in the Lord. They
were in our homes in times of bitter grief and
heavy disappointment, and their presence was like
the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. They
rejoiced with us when we rejoiced, and wept with
us when we wept. When Jacob Boardman was
weathering his most critical financial storm and an
assignment seemed inevitable, the Marvins came
down from Covington and stayed for all of a week
at the Boardman home comforting and heartening
the household.
My father loved Marvin as a brother, and they
were always happy in each other's company. They
were about the same age and of similar tempera-

AS SOME TALL CLIFF 143
ment. I possess and greatly prize certain letters
from that servant of the Christ which reveal both
his friendship for my father and his strong pastor
heart. They are almost too sacred to spread out
upon a public page, and only because they reveal
so tenderly the great heart of their author am I
permitting myself to do what otherwise I should
not for a moment consider. The first one of these
letters was written to my father shortly after his
defeat by a narrow margin as his party's nominee
for Congress. Covington, Kentucky, June 2, 189 —
My dear David:
I see by the Enquirer that you failed of nomination yes
terday by six votes. I am sorry, for the Sixth Congres
sional district, that you lost; but I congratulate you on
your defeat. Politics for men of your ideals, David, af
fords a great field of usefulness; but at the same time
offers manifold experiences that are distasteful and even
disgusting. I think I told you on several occasions of my
regret because Garfield went into politics. To be sure, it
brought him greatness and renown ; but at the same time
great sorrow, and it finally cost him his life. Yes, my
friend and brother, you are the gainer; instead of having
to settle every post office fight in your district, and being
annoyed half to death by the same, you can walk over your
fertile fields, sit on your wide verandah at Maple Shade,
worship God at Fairhope meeting-house, and live and die
in peace.
Hurriedly, but with affectionate regards.
Richard Marvin.

144 FAIRHOPE
The second letter I first saw after father read
it all alone in his bed chamber and shortly after
ward brought it to me. It was written three days
after the funeral services that Richard Marvin
conducted for mother.
Covington, Kentucky, September 20, 189 —
My dear David:
Since I have returned home you and your loss have been
constantly upon my mind. I know how terribly lonely
your lot will be until you reach that land where sickness
never comes and death is unknown. You were a well
mated couple, and after forty-five years of wedded life the
world doesn't seem to hold much for you without her.
That I know full well; but our Source of Comfort is all
sufficient. Thanks be unto " The God of all comfort who
comforteth us in all our afflictions through the comfort
wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God." That's
a great word, David, and best of all it is true! To pass
through an experience as yours in serenity of faith in the
Gospel of Jesus Christ, means that heaven is nearer and
that the tug of earth is less perceptible. My dear friend,
I shall bear you much in mind, and remember you often
at the throne of grace and mercy. My heart goes out to
you, David, and to every member of your family. God
bless and keep you.
Fraternally and affectionately yours,
Richard Marvin.
The third letter of Marvin's that I reproduce
here grew out of the strange and almost tragic
experience that came upon that noble man in his
last years. Upon his leaving Fairhope after round-

AS SOME TALL CLIFF 145
ing out twelve years as minister, he had regular
work for a while; then only occasional preaching
appointments; and finally with the exception of
funeral services, he was practically pushed aside
and laid upon the shelf in the full splendour and
mellowness of his strong, spiritual maturity. Only
a few of the Fairhope folk knew the seriousness of
the circumstances ; among the number — naturally
enough — were Jacob Boardman, Major Menifee,
and my father — all three of whom endeavoured
to help Marvin secure a church, but without suc
cess. It was in answer to a letter from father re
porting his failure in this respect, and deploring
the condition among the churches that made such
a thing possible, that the letter which follows was
written : Covington, Kentucky, December 8, 189 —
My dear David:
I want to thank you for your very kind letter of recent
date telling of your disappointments in failing to secure
for me a call from Somerset Church. I do not know why,
David, unless it is my age ; but I am no longer in demand
as a preacher, not even among the smaller and weaker
churches. I would rather preach the Gospel than do any
thing else in the wide world, and I believe myself better
able to preach with power and conviction to-day than at
any other period of my life. I would feel this slight,
David, even if I were of independent means. As it is, I
am doubly wounded by the disposition of the churches to
spurn my services. Even so, my brother, I want to say
that I love the Cause to-day more than ever — if such

146 FAIRHOPE
were possible ; and I shall praise God with my dying breath,
even if that breath should have to be drawn in an alms
house, for His mercies and goodness to me and mine.
Believe me, David, your grateful friend and brother in
the Lord. Richard Marvin.
I do not know why a man like Marvin should be
shelved as he was, and as other men like him have
been. It is difficult to explain the fact that at the
very time of life when a doctor's skill and a law
yer's knowledge is the most valuable, the minister
is in so many instances relegated to the rear or
thrust to one side and regarded only too often with
a kind of pitying contempt. I have always been
fond of young preachers, and much as I enjoy hear
ing them preach, their sermons rarely grip me as
do those which have been filtered through a per
sonality and life lived long and deep enough to test
severely the truths which they preach. It may be
that some people differ from me in this respect. I
do not know; but as I view it, a preacher even of
ripe training and rare natural gifts does not attain
his full preaching ability until fifty.
In reflecting on Marvin and the sad fate that
befell him, I have endeavoured to recall some
weakness that might account for his shelving in his
latter years. I can think of but one possible defect :
he could not make a ten minutes' talk nor preach a
short sermon. His mental faculties bordered, per
haps, on the ponderous; and for the first five or
ten minutes of his preaching he was not especially
interesting. As I recall him, he resembled a great

AS SOME TALL CLIFF 147
ocean liner that has to be pulled out from harbour
by a tugboat to the open sea, and then proceeds to
get under full headway and ploughs steadily and
sturdily through the waters of the great deep. In
the earlier years of his ministry this characteristic
could scarcely be called a defect, in his later years
I fear that it became such.
The sad chapter in Richard Marvin's life came
as a consequence of his inability to secure a place
to preach. God is his witness that he tried hard
enough, only to fail. He found it necessary to do
something to earn a competence that would keep
him in his very modest mode of living, and it hap-
pened'that a coffee plantation company, with head
quarters somewhere in Mexico, secured him as an
agent. One or two of the big men in the company
Marvin had known years before; in fact, one of
them a dozen years previous was a conspicuous
figure in our national church councils and later
prominent in politics. He had every confidence in
these men and believed, of course, that the com
pany was thoroughly reliable. Because of his wide
acquaintance and the confidence every one had in
him, Marvin successfully disposed of some twenty-
five thousand dollars' worth of the plantation
stock. In numerous instances the stock was sold in
small blocks and among people who could only
afford a small investment. It turned out that the
so-called " big " man in the plantation company
was a grand rascal and looted its treasury of two
hundred thousand dollars, and made his escape

148 FAIRHOPE
successfully to South America. It all came like a
lightning flash from a cloudless sky, and Richard
Marvin was stricken low by the exposure. He took
his entire savings which was, I think, the commis
sion on the stock he had sold — twenty-five hun
dred dollars in all — and pro rated it to the need
iest of the men and women who had bought the
stock upon his recommendation. Some of his old
friends in Fairhope's community came to his relief
both in a financial way and by sympathetic expres
sions of their friendships. But the thing broke
Richard Marvin's heart. He never fully recovered
from the blow. A little more than six months after
the crash he conducted a funeral service in our
county and contracted a cold from the exposure at
the graveside, for it was a raw day in November.
Pneumonia developed and in the early morning of
the sixth day of his illness Marvin died.
His funeral took place in one of the large
churches in Cincinnati. A great throng of people
attended and there was an expression of grief sin
cere and widespread. Many of our Fairhope peo
ple were in attendance. Major Menifee was a pall
bearer; and no sincerer mourners were there than
that company that came across the river from the
community where for twelve years Richard Marvin
had been the bishop of our souls. There were some
eloquent addresses made at that funeral; trained
voices sang beautifully the hymns of the faith ; and
the great auditorium was redolent with the per
fume of flowers. It was all very tender, impressive,

AS SOME TALL CLIFF 149
and richly deserved. Nevertheless, I could not but
reflect that if the large and prosperous religious
body served so acceptably by Richard Marvin for
the best of his life had only provided for him even
modestly in his declining years, the grief and the
canker of the last six months of his life would not
have been his to know.
One hymn sung at his funeral portrayed most
admirably his sturdy character and his useful ca
reer. It is a hymn that was much sung in the early
days of Fairhope and. always at the funeral ser
vices of our most faithful men. To this day I never
hear the hymn without a thrill and an indefinable
emotion. The second and fourth stanzas were our
favourites. " Fallen — on Zion's battle field,
A soldier of renown,
Armed in the panoply of God,
In conflict cloven down !
His helmet on, his armour bright,
His cheek unblanched with fear —
While round his head there gleamed a light
His dying hour to cheer.
" Fallen — as sets the sun at eve,
To rise in splendour where
His kindred luminaries shine,
Their heaven of bliss to spare;
Beyond the stormy battle field,
He reigns in triumph, now,
Sweeping a harp of wond'rous song
With glory on his brow ! "

150 FAIRHOPE
Mrs. Marvin continued to reside in Covington
several years after her husband's death. Besides
an unmarried sister who lived with her, one of her
nephews made his home there while attending
medical school in Cincinnati. Fairhope people kept
her often in mind and scarcely a week past that
some of us did not look in upon her. During the
summer months she came down in the Fairhope
community and visited for a week or ten
days. Whenever I was in Cincinnati and could possi
bly spare the time, I usually made a brief visit to
the Marvin home. One afternoon I was persuaded
to stay for supper and remain over night. We lin
gered long at the supper table and sat up late talk
ing of old times at Fairhope, and of the younger
generation that was coming on, and of the changes
that had taken place in recent years. That evening
Mrs. Marvin opened her heart to me and gave me
the detailed history of the sufferings of her hus
band the last six months of his life. The iron had
entered his soul, he had dwelt long in Gethsemane ;
but there was no bitterness in his widow's voice as
she told the sorrowful story — only a calm, sweet
constancy that greatly touched my heart. When I
went up to my room it was close to midnight. I was
weary but not at all sleepy. As I stood at the dress
ing table, my mind still on the vicissitudes that
shadowed darkly Richard Marvin's last days,
some objects in the corner of the room drew my
attention. When I recognised what they were I

AS SOME TALL CLIFF 151
experienced a distinct shock. There resting against
the wall was a cane and a crutch. I went over and
touched them reverently. How many times I had
seen Richard Marvin swing himself along by the
help of that crutch and that cane ! Passing strange
it is to me that people go and things abide; that
persons we knew and loved are gone from our sight
and sound, and the things they used to touch and
handle every day — the inanimate things — they
are here and there and all about us !
I turned off the light and went to bed, but some
how sleep fled from me. For a long time I lay
there recalling the scenes at Fairhope in which
Richard Marvin had been such a vital influence for
good. And when I did fall asleep it was to dream
of what I had thought when lying there wide
awake. I was in Fairhope meeting-house which
was crowded to the doors. It was an anniversary
celebration for our faithful preacher and Jacob
Boardman was making a speech in the pulpit — a
congratulatory address full of gracious tribute to
our minister. I saw him take a roll of bills of
large-sized denominations from his pocket and
hand them to Marvin, who rose to receive them.
Then Richard Marvin bent over and kissed Jacob
Boardman on the cheek and I beheld them both
weeping and the congregation also weeping. I
wept, too ; and then we stood and sang amidst our
tears : " Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love,"

152 FAIRHOPE
just as we had sung it time and time again at
Fairhope; and while we were singing I suddenly
awoke to find myself in the Marvin home, and my
face wet with tears.
I have long been fond of Oliver Goldsmith's
" The Deserted Village," and an admirer of the
lovely portrait he draws therein of the village par
son in particular. I cannot say how many times I
have read the poem, I suppose a half-hundred
times at least. But this I know: never do I read
the magnificent passage that concludes the author's
tribute to the village preacher's rugged character
and serenity of faith, but there comes between me
and the printed page the face and form of Richard
Marvin. " As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head."

WHEN POLITICS AND
RELIGION MIXED

WHEN POLITICS AND
RELIGION MIXED
It has been a theory of our Fairhope politicians
that religion and politics should not mix, and I bear
our good men witness that it was unusual — par
tisans though we were — to bring party politics
into the conduct of the affairs of church, or vice
versa. With all of our partisanship, we were not
a bigoted people even when party lines were more
closely drawn than they are now. Richard Marvin
was a Republican ; and despite the fact that men of
his party were scarce in Fairhope, our people were
the soul of loyalty in their devotion to that noble
minister of the Gospel. But regardless of our
efforts to separate religion and politics, at least
once we purposely set about mixing them thor
oughly; and thereby appends an episode of our
community life which has now become one of the
traditions of the elders.
Most of our leading Fairhope men have been
more or less identified with politics. Judge Patton
was county judge for two terms ; Carter Goodpas
ture served one term as sheriff; Major Menifee
was a member of the State Executive Committee
of his party; David Westbrooke, Sr., was defeated
by a narrow margin for Congress ; and even Jacob
Boardman served one term as magistrate. Politi
cally, we are not divided equally. Four-fifths of
our people are Democrats, and our exciting times
ISS

156 FAIRHOPE
are not on the general election days but at the pri
maries where a nomination is equivalent to an elec
tion. I may be mistaken, but I have a conviction
that northern Kentucky boasts more politics to the
square foot than any other section of the Union.
In politics — as in everything else — some men
are pronounced failures, while others are marvels
of success ; and alas ! both the failure and success
are often quite apart from individual merit. It
sometimes happens that the best of men are the
most diffident and commonplace campaigners.
Fairhope numbered among its members such a
man, by name : Jethro Walmsley. He was a mod
est, self-effacing sort of person; well past middle
life ; the very soul of honour ; of kind and generous
heart ; but a more timid, retiring man never lived.
In appearance he was slight of figure, with grey
hair and beard and a fine patrician sort of face.
Yet, notwithstanding his shrinking nature, Jethro
Walmsley had for fifteen years nourished ardently
an ambition to represent Boone County in the
State Legislature at Frankfort. Three times he
had been a candidate, and as often he had met de
feat in the primary and with one exception he was
the low man out of some three or four candidates.
Insofar as ability was concerned, he was far better
fitted by character and education to represent us
than the man who defeated him; but as an elec
tioneer he was a joke, though against the advice
of his friends he persisted in canvassing the county
from one end to the other. The result was, to use

POLITICS AND RELIGION 157
Carter Goodpasture's words, that " everywhere he
went he decreased his vote."
Walmsley's three defeats grieved him deeply,
humiliated his family, and embarrassed his breth
ren at Fairhope. He was a faithful attendant at
the church, a generous contributor, and in every
way a man who deserved good things at the hands
of the people. After his third defeat we hoped he
never again would become a candidate ; but lo ! six
months previous to the very next primary he again
announced his candidacy for the legislature. For a
brief time it looked as if he would have no op
ponent, and we rejoiced accordingly. But our joy
was short lived. A resident of Petersburg, one
Thomas J. Jackson, announced his candidacy for
the same office ; and Walmsley was thus assured of
another contest. Immediately Jethro's friends
throughout the county became worried, and our
politicians in Fairhope church in particular, were
disturbed. It looked like another defeat for the
little grey man, so ambitious and yet at the same
time so unobtrusive.
Major Menifee and Judge Patton were not only
close neighbours and fellow church members, but
political cronies as well. Their interest in Walms
ley's success was keen, and shortly after the an
nouncement of Jackson's candidacy the Judge and
the Major got together to discuss the bearings of
his entry in the legislative race.
" Why that man Jackson will beat Walmsley,
and Jethro has more manhood in one of his little

158 FAIRHOPE
fingers than Jackson has in his whole body," ob
served Major Menifee. " It's a shame, but it's a
fact that most any scallywag in the county with a
gift of gab and a slight degree of decency could
beat Jethro Walmsley to a finish. What's your
idea, Judge, about this race? "
Judge Patton reflected before answering. " Of
course you're right, Major. Tom Jackson — even
with his streak of yellow — will beat Walmsley
three hundred votes. I have an idea. I'm not sure
it's feasible, but I'll give it to you for what it's
worth. Nim Hayden down in the South Fork
neighbourhood, has wanted to run for representa
tive for a number of years. All he needs is a little
encouragement and a mighty little, at that. Now
Nim's not a bad fellow in a way, but he's an in
fidel — at least he has that reputation ; and if Nim
should run, and Jackson stays in — Jackson's not
a member of any church, he's sort of a brother-in-
law, I believe — in a three cornered race of this
kind Jethro could win out. The church people of
this county won't take much stock in Jackson, and
mighty few votes will Nim Hayden get in that
quarter." The Major looked thoughtful and smoked
steadily, before replying. " Judge, do you think
you can bring about Nim's candidacy and do it in
such a way that it will not arouse suspicion? I
know you can do it if anybody can."
" Yes, sir, I can accomplish it, Major. I don't
relish mixing into this matter personally, but I

POLITICS AND RELIGION 159
have a henchman or two down in the southern part
of the county that will put a bug in Nimrod's ear
and he'll do the rest."
" Then begin the battle, Patton; and count on
me and any one of a half-dozen dependables at
Fairhope to help you out if you need it."
So saying, the Judge and Major shook hands
and the compact was made.
Judge Patton's plan, innocently operated as it
was by apparently disinterested neighbours in the
South Fork neighbourhood, worked wonders. A
half-dozen of us in the northern part of the county
were not surprised when one fine day the county
paper carried the announcement of Nimrod Hay-
den's candidacy. At once the interest deepened and
the political pot started boiling in earnest. The
candidates for the various offices in the county
plunged into a lively canvass. There was the usual
interest and everybody talked politics. Hayden,
Jackson, and Walmsley, with a score of other
candidates, were on the go early and late. At
every gathering of church and lodge, at public
sales, and especially on court day, one could not
toss up a stone without hitting a candidate. Fair-
hope folks were elated at Jethro Walmsley's out
look for victory. At last it seemed the coveted
prize was within his grasp. That little grey man,
diffident as usual, mingled shyly at the various
gatherings, actually believing himself to be in
fluencing scores of votes in his behalf. In truth, he
was making no votes through his personality, but

160 FAIRHOPE
for the first time in his life he was winning a con
stituency and all because one of the opposing can
didates was a reputed infidel and the other not of
the highest type of character. Jethro was greatly
pleased with the rising tide in his political favour
and became thereby not puffed up with pride but
rather more self-effacing than ever.
Thus the campaign went on merrily with
Walmsley's stock going up every day and a per
ceptible undertone of strong opposition to Hayden
on the one hand and against Jackson on the other.
The Judge and Major were jubilant and began
to speculate on the size of Jethro's plurality.
Then, just two weeks before the primary, a bomb
shell in the way of unexpected news exploded in
our community.
It happened that Judge Patton drove over to
the county seat where he expected to spend the day,
but his stay was shortened by several hours on ac
count of a piece of information he picked up quite
casually from a group of men who were sunning
themselves in the court-house yard. After satisfy
ing himself that the report was substantially true,
he straightway drove over to Oak Knoll as fast as
his fleet, well-bred driving horse could take him.
The Major was on the verandah reading his
Courier Journal when he saw the Judge drive up,
and immediately dropped the paper and went to
meet him, satisfied that his neighbour's call was
of more than ordinary importance. Judge Patton
reigned in his horse but made no move toward

POLITICS AND RELIGION 161
getting out of the vehicle. It was plain to see that
he was agitated. The two men shook hands as
though they had been separated for years instead
of for hours.
" Major," gasped the Judge, " upon my word,
things have come to a pretty pass! Why Nim
Hayden has joined the church! "
"What's that?" exclaimed the Major. "No,
no, surely there's some mistake."
" It is true as Gospel," rejoined the Judge.
" There's a big revival on at Antioch, and bless my
soul! among the converts last night was Nim
Hayden. The story's travelling on the four winds.
You know what that means to the hopes of Jethro
Walmsley." The Major's expression of astonishment gave
place to one of good-natured seriousness, and
there was a trace of a smile on his face as he re
plied. " Judge, you and I ought to be ashamed of
ourselves deploring the news of Nim Hayden's
conversion. Assuming it's sincere, there must be
joy among the angels over the coming of that man
to the foot of the Cross. Only — I fervently wish
he had postponed it until after the election. It
will, as you say, affect our candidate seriously.
When the news of his conversion gets out over this
county it will make hundreds of votes for Nim
and poor Jethro will be snowed under. If Hayden
had planned this conversion as a part of his cam-'
paign, he couldn't have timed it better. What shall
we do to head him off, Patton ? "

162 FAIRHOPE
" There's only one thing left to be done if
Jethro's scalp is saved," rejoined the Judge. " I
don't like to do it — I never have done it — and I
hope I never have to do it again. We've just got
to line up all our brothers in the faith in the county
and vote our church solid for Jethro. We'll have
to select a man in every one of our twelve con
gregations and put him to work for Walmsley.
Yes, sir, we'll have to organise our brethren,
Major, and vote 'em to a man. It's against both
my religious and political convictions to mix church
and state ; but it's either that or Walmsley will
suffer defeat, and it will just kill him if his pres
ent candidacy should end in a disaster."
" You're right, Judge," the Major approved
grimly. " I don't like it either, but there's no other
way now. Map out your campaign. Til help you,
and every other Fairhope man will take his coat
off to save the day for Jethro. I don't believe Nim
Hayden's conversion is genuine. Maybe I oughtn't
to say that, Judge, but I feel that way just the
same. Still, that's not here nor there now. We've
got to save Jethro. But first of all, Patton, you
get right out of the buggy and take dinner with
me. After we've dined we'll plan this campaign in
detail." The Judge accepted the invitation and the two
mapped out a campaign that was truly Napoleonic.
As working capital immediately available, the
Judge and Major had acquaintances throughout
the entire county and were men of wide influence.

POLITICS AND RELIGION 163
Their word was weighty and their support of any
man was a movement significant in the county.
They took a dozen trusty Fairhope men into their
confidence at once and instituted a quiet, yet thor
ough canvass in every one of our twelve churches.
The Major made it a point to have business mat
ters call him to various parts of the county, thus
giving him opportunity to do missionary work
himself. The Judge was likewise a sojourner in
certain sections of the county for as much as a day
at a time, and busy from dawn till dark. At that
time we had four resident ministers in the county
and where it was possible and feasible these men
did quiet but effective work among their brethren.
The campaign rapidly reached a point where the
interest was at a white heat. That Hayden's con
version had made an impression throughout the
county and in some quarters had created a mild
sensation, was only too true. For two or three
days after, his stock went up by leaps and bounds.
Had the election been a week after that eventful
night of the revival meeting he would have swept
the county like a prairie fire. The work of the
Judge and Major was telling — no doubt of that;
but even so, Hayden still looked like a winner and
Walmsley's1 friends were uneasy. The primary
was on Saturday and on the Wednesday before the
county paper carried a notable biographical sketch
of Jethro Walmsley. Whoever wrote it did a
clever piece of work. His family connections were
commented upon, his honourable career in the

1 64 FAIRHOPE
county pointed out, and the fact that he had been
a Christian all his life was given a special promin
ence. Undoubtedly the article which was well writ
ten and true, did good service for Fairhope's mod
est, self-effacing, perennial candidate. Neverthe
less, we were all anxious and by no means confident
as to the outcome.
The day of the primary we worked like Trojans,
determined that Jethro should get every vote in
our precinct that could be honourably secured
for him. And out of 180 cast there, he got 150,
Jackson 6, Hayden 24. We received the returns
from the primary at Beagle's store for it was be
fore the days of the general use of telephones in
our homes. The first precincts reporting showed
Hayden running like a deer and confirmed our
fears that the race would be a neck-and-neck affair.
It was midnight before all the returns came in
and not until the last precinct was heard from was
the outcome certain. The final vote was
Jackson  405
Hayden  1002
Walmsley  1038
The Major mopped his brow when the finals
were figured up and proceeded to fill his pipe
afresh. As he fumbled in his waist-coat pocket for
a match he ventured to address the Judge, who
was getting into his overcoat. " Well, for once I
guess politics and religion mixed a bit. Eh,
Judge?"

POLITICS AND RELIGION 165
The Judge chuckled deeply. " That's where you
are wrong, Major. They never do, and nobody
knows better than yourself that this campaign
we've carried on had mighty little religion in it
and a whole carload of politics."

A MINISTER'S WOOING

A MINISTER'S WOOING
Harmon Vaughn was twenty-two years old when
he became our minister at Fairhope. The first
six months he served as a student preacher, since
he was rounding out his senior year at the Semin
ary. After graduation he took up his residence in
our county and for nearly five years he was our
popular and beloved pastor. During that time
Fairhope flourished as in the old days, and when
Vaughn left us to go to a city church he took away
something more substantial even than Fairhope's
love and best wishes and left us sore and sick of
heart because of a double loss.
Vaughn's first visit to Fairhope was on a bleak
Saturday afternoon in January. We do not have
Saturday preaching services at Fairhope now, but
for two decades they were a feature of our church
life. The women folk predominated at the Satur
day meetings usually, though occasionally there
was a fair attendance of the older men. The
afternoon of Vaughn's initial sermon — despite
the bleakness of the day — the audience was un
commonly large and representative of a Sunday
service. We had been without a minister for sev
eral months and the rumour that a young student
of unusual ability was to preach helped to swell
the attendance. Vaughn was late in arriving and
we were in our pews when he came in with Major
Menifee who had met him at the river.
When Harmon Vaughn walked up the aisle,
169

170 FAIRHOPE
went into the pulpit, and announced the opening
hymn, the impression he made upon us was dis
tinctly favourable. We saw a sturdy, prepossess
ing, young man ; about six feet in height, and slen
der; with a frank, open face; a winsome person
ality; and the platform presence of a natural
speaker. As the congregation rose to sing
" There is a land of pure delight
Where saints immortal reign,"
Carter Goodpasture was not the only one whose
appraising eyes travelled back and forth from the
wholesome looking young man in the pulpit to
the fine figure and lovely face of Jennie Van Gor
der in the choir. Goodpasture who was a horse
man and given to expressing himself in the
metaphors and simile of the track and paddock,
after a survey of choir and pulpit, whispered
rather noisily to Breck Shelby who sat by him,
" What a team of high steppers Jennie Van and
the new parson would make ! "
Carter's comment, however, was not extraordi
nary for he was a born matchmaker and when he
should have been listening to sermons he was gaz
ing about the congregation and picking out suit
able pairs for the matrimonial market.
Jennie Van Gorder could not have been more
than twenty when Vaughn came to Fairhope
church. She was as pretty a girl as I ever saw. No
description can do justice to her girlish grace and
loveliness. She inclined to the brunette type with

A MINISTER'S WOOING 171
plentiful meshes of what Major Menifee called
" raven tresses." And to quote the gallant Major
further, " her cheeks were like roses in the snow."
The Major, himself, could not praise too highly
Jennie's deep blue eyes or her adorable smile.
Unlike some beautiful girls, Jennie was brilliant
of mind; and best of all, she was thoroughly un
spoiled, a sweet and sincere soul. Little wonder
that she was an acknowledged belle and much
sought out by beaux and gallants. During the four
years Jennie spent in a boarding-school in central
Kentucky she was a great favourite socially. She
had circles of friends in Frankfort and Lexington,
and there was a stream of young life coming and
going continually at the Van Gorders. So far as
we knew, her heart and hand were her own,
though rumours were flying thick and fast about
Jennie and her admirers. A young society man
from Cincinnati — wealthy, attractive, and con
sidered a great catch — was very fond of Jennie.
His visits to the Van Gorder home were just as
frequent as Jennie would permit. Then there was
Winthrop of Frankfort — a dashing young lawyer
who had lost his heart completely. And also a
doctor from Louisville. But to remember all of
Jennie Van Gorder's suitors, or to call the names
of the young men in our community who wor
shipped at her shrine, would be too great a task
for me.
We liked Vaughn from the first excepting, per
haps, Giles Shockley who thought he detected a

172 FAIRHOPE
faint trace of heresy in parts of his sermons.
Young and old were alike drawn to the young
man. He was so human, so likeable. His popu
larity among us was marked and it grew rather
than diminished the longer he stayed. Our older
men began to father him at once; Major Menifee,
in particular. There was about this young minister
something which reminded the Major of Henry
Clay Junior, and it came about naturally and quite
spontaneously that Major Menifee assumed a
sponsorship over Harmon Vaughn.
Young preachers interest me and I have made
a study of them. I fancy myself able to discover
on first hearing a young domine preach whether
or not he was really called to be a Herald of the
Christ. Harmon Vaughn was born to preach; he
had the preaching instinct, and the prophet's fire.
He was of studious habits; and in his early min
istry, by industrious preparation, laid the founda
tion for a notable preaching career. His individu
ality was strong and a trifle eccentric. He was
careful about his clothes and careless about his
hair. In the five years that he preached at Fair-
hope I never saw him go into the pulpit wearing a
mussed-up suit or soiled linen. He was far from
a fop, but the most careful preacher about his
attire I have known. Vaughn's hair was dark
brown, straight, and he wore it rather long. He
seemed in doubt just how to dispose of his trouble
some locks as they rebelled against orderly ar
rangement. When he first came he parted his hair

A MINISTER'S WOOING 173
almost in the middle. In a few months he changed
the part to the left side and then — perhaps six
months later — he changed it to the right side.
When he got into the midst of a sermon the front
locks had a provoking way of falling down into his
eyes. Harmon Vaughn fell head long in love with
Jennie Van Gorder the first day he laid eyes on
her. The humour of the situation was that while
all Fairhope saw he was in love, that young man
believed he was concealing the fact most adroitly.
For all of a year our young preacher to a casual
observer, was no fonder of Jennie's company than
that of any of the other young women in Fair-
hope's community. He was discreet, and believed
himself as sly as a fox in his love affair, deceiving
even the elect. And all the while, by covert glance
and eloquent gesture, Vaughn was publishing to
the world the loss of his heart and head.
For a year Vaughn was ill at ease over the
popularity of Jennie and quite despaired of a re
mote chance of pressing his suit. Scarcely a Sun
day but some admirer of Jennie's was a guest at
the Van Gorders, and prominent in their pew at
church. Everywhere our preacher heard rumours
of Jennie's engagement, either to the Cincinnati
man, the Louisville doctor, or the Frankfort law
yer. Occasionally he visited the Van Gorders and
sometimes took Jennie to a neighbourhood din
ner, the county fair, or a Sunday School conven
tion ; but so far as he could see his chances for the

174 FAIRHOPE
young lady's favour were decidedly slim. Jennie
was radiant in his company, but to make love to
such a creature when her heart was likely another's
— this seemed impossible even to so ardent a
lover as Vaughn would have been had he the op
portunity. Some of our good women unintentionally in
creased Vaughn's troubles by their gossipy specula
tions as to Jennie's matrimonial fortunes; and a
few, I suspect, were purposely tantalising. Such a
one was Aunt Matt Peebles who knew more about
the matrimonial possibilities and the marital vicis
situdes of Fairhope than any other resident, not
excepting Carter Goodpasture. Aunt Matt was a
widow of a few years duration; she had been a
spinster of a much longer stretch of time. Spinster-
hood had vexed Aunt Matt sorely, but she didn't
mind being a widow in the least. She Was a regular
attendant at Fairhope and a loyal member.
" Nothing ever happens at church that Aunt
Matt ain't Sally-on-the-spot," was Carter Good
pasture's characterisation of Mrs. Matt Peebles.
Aunt Matt never missed an opportunity to in
form Vaughn that " Jennie Van Gorder is spoke
for and good as married already." There was
something almost malicious in the persistence with
which she declared in his hearing that the belle
of our county was wooed and won beyond the
peradventure of a doubt. Vaughn whose nature
was kind and affectionate — though quick of tem
per, was conscious of a growing dislike for Aunt

A MINISTER'S WOOING 175
Matt and a positive dread of her presence. Once
in the midst of his fears and doubts as to the
possibility of his successful suit, he met Aunt Matt
on the pike near the Van Gorders. He would have
driven on but she reined in the flea-bitten grey
mare and there was nothing for her pastor to do
but halt his livery nag also.
" Good morning, Brother Vaughn. Nice day."
Vaughn — calm on the surface but inwardly boil
ing — returned her greeting, but not so graciously
as was his habit.
" Going to stop at Van Gorders to-day, I take
it." Vaughn nodded his head in affirmation.
" Well, it's a good place to stop, but after
Jinny's married that Looyville doctor I reckon it
won't be so powerful attractive place to the young
fellers. Do you? "
Vaughn felt like boxing the woman's ears
soundly, and he was greatly relieved when after a
few minutes' conversation she " allowed she'd bet
ter mosey on to market."
The second summer of Vaughn's ministry at
Fairhope the rumours of Jennie Van Gorder's en
gagement were more numerous than ever. One
day a funeral service took him to Florence and
from there he drove over to the neighbourhood of
Point Pleasant to visit a sick woman; thence to
Major Menifee's by way of the county seat. The
day had been long and dismal enough for the
young preacher. At Florence he overheard a
group of women referring to Jennie's approaching

176 FAIRHOPE
marriage to the Louisville doctor. A voluble
visitor at the home of the sick woman in the Point
Pleasant neighbourhood asked him point blank if
it was not true that Jennie Van Gorder's engage
ment had just been announced in the Courier
Journal. And at the county seat Vaughn learned
that Jennie had been there a few hours before and
the gossipy little village was assured that the
engagement had been announced, only it was the
Cincinnati man who was lucky instead of the Louis
ville doctor. Vaughn took fresh courage at this
variation of the rumour, but he was thoroughly
disgusted with himself and the world in general
when he drove up just about supper time at Oak
Knoll. To this day there is no better place to drive dull
care away than at Oak Knoll. Vaughn's spirits
rose as he sat at the bountifully spread board and
entered into an animated conversation with the
Major and Miss Clara. The Menifees fascinated
their young guest who was in dire need of the
good cheer which the fine old homestead radiated.
After supper the Major led the way to the wide
verandah which runs the entire front of the house.
The Major lighted his briar pipe which was a
ceremony in itself; and after he had settled in a
most comfortable and confiding mood, Vaughn felt
that there never would be a better time for ac
quiring some information which he greatly desired.
So as soon as there was an opportunity to intro
duce the matter without actually dragging it in,

A MINISTER'S WOOING 177
Vaughn enquired quite incidentally, yet with
thinly disguised interest, " Major, is it true that
Miss Jennie Van Gorder is to be married? "
The Major took his pipe from his mouth.
" Most assuredly." Vaughn felt his knees trem
ble. " Sometime, I reckon — "
Vaughn laughed outright and immoderately.
His immense relief showed in his spirited reply.
" Major, I mean soon. Tell me, is there any
truth in these stories that that wonderful girl is
engaged to the Louisville quack, that Frankfort
pettifogger, or that Cincinnati Beau Brummel? "
The Major was startled at such vigorous lan
guage from the young preacher. He was much
amused, too; though in his heart he approved of
Vaughn's attitude. But he was provokingly de
liberate in his reply and took several deep pulls
at his pipe and blew the smoke in fantastic whiffs
and rings. Just about the time Vaughn was on
the point of repeating the question the Major
spoke. " My boy, you put an interrogation to me I
can't answer. Only Jennie can answer that ques
tion, I reckon."
The Major grew reflective. " Marriage is a
mighty important matter. It's a venture that one
has to make by faith, sir. And when it comes to a
minister of the Gospel marrying — so far as my
observation goes — it either makes him or it
breaks him."
The Major grew reminiscent and told Vaughn

178 FAIRHOPE
how a certain minister of some distinction blasted
a most promising ministerial career by an unfor
tunate matrimonial alliance. The Major related
the episode with grace and embellishment. During
the narrative Vaughn was ill at ease and scarcely
waited till the end before he blurted out, " Major,
do you think Jennie Van Gorder would make a
practical wife for a preacher?"
The Major removed the pipe from his lips, laid
a hand affectionately on Vaughn's knee, and re
plied with the emphasis of conviction, " Not only
a practical wife, but an ideal one ! For any man,
sir, who is fortunate enough to win her! I have
known her from the time she was a babe in her
mother's arms. I know her stock, sir. I know her
so well, sir, that if I were a young blood I'd look
no further until I was turned down cold, sir."
Vaughn — in water far over his head — struck
out now fearlessly. " Major, I do wish I had
known this young woman sooner. It strikes me,
there's little chance for a preacher among these
lawyers, doctors, and city bloods ; and for the life
of me, I can't say I've seen the slightest indica
tion of her having any special regard for her
pastor." The Major refilled his pipe deliberately, tamped
the tobacco gently with his middle finger, lit it
with solicitous care, puffed awhile, and then an
swered as if from deep reflection, " Vaughn, I've
lived a good many years, and in my younger days
I was what is known as a ladies' man. In a sense,

A MINISTER'S WOOING 179
I am still that kind of man; and will be till I pay
the great debt of nature. I have observed that
you never can predict how a woman or a jury will
decide. But, sir, be sure of this : whenever a young
lady notices the way a young gentleman parts his
hair and is concerned thereby, put it down, sir, in
black and white, she has some special interest in
him." The Major stopped. Vaughn hoped he would
continue. This last observation was enigmatical.
He waited for light but none came save the glow
of the Major's pipe. He was on the point of ask
ing the Major just what he meant when Miss
Clara joined them and the topic of conversation
was perforce changed. Vaughn pondered the mat
ter further in his room that night and tossed about
on his bed, unable to sleep. He decided he would
quiz the Major further in the morning, but when
he went down to breakfast he learned that his
host had left unexpectedly for Cincinnati on ur
gent business.
Vaughn drove away in high spirits. He re
solved to write Miss Van Gorder at once, and
transfer to paper the sentences he could not trust
himself to frame in her presence. That night he
wrote the first draft of the missive that was to de
clare his love ; and after spending the larger part
of the next day in numerous revisions, he decided
that the fifteenth was as strong as he could hope to
compose if he wrote a hundred. There were ten
pages and they told Miss Van Gorder of the

180 FAIRHOPE
young minister's love for her from the day he
first saw her in Fairhope meeting-house ; and asked
her to share her life with his. In a postscript he
reminded Jennie that she had an engagement to
accompany him on Wednesday of the next week
to the county Sunday School convention at Peters
burg where he was to preach the sermon. He
suggested that she give him her answer at that
time. The momentous day arrived and Fairhope's
minister appeared at the Van Gorder home shortly
after dinner. He was driving a good looking liv
ery horse which unlike most horses of that species,
was inclined to be skittish. Vaughn was so spick
and span that he seemed to have stepped out
from the proverbial band-box. It was midsummer,
the time of the year that is usually hot and dusty;
but frequent rains had laid low the dust of the
turnpike, the foliage was still rich in verdure, and
the crops were particularly fine. As Vaughn and
his fair companion drove through the gate and out
on the turnpike it seemed to them that no day in
midsummer could be more heavenly.
Vaughn was conscious of elation; he felt like a
colt. Jennie was superb in all her fresh young
loveliness, which was enhanced by a filmy dress of
white embroidered muslin. They drove leisurely
along, meeting only an occasional vehicle. Very
soon Vaughn introduced Major Menifee as the
topic for conversation. It was a popular theme.
They remarked on the Major's gallantry, his old-

A MINISTER'S WOOING 181
fashioned courtesy, and his fascinating charm as
a host. " The Major is a gentleman of the old school,"
commented Vaughn, " and he surely takes a
fatherly interest in me. Why, what do you think !
He gave me some advice as to the kind of wife a
minister ought to have."
Jennie glanced at him coyly. "Indeed!" she
remarked. " How interesting! "
" Yes, he actually told me that when a min
ister marries it either makes or breaks him," re
joined Vaughn.
" Oh, he's a student of human nature," con
tinued the young preacher, " and he does know a
lot about ladies, in particular. He confided to me
that nobody can ever be sure just how a woman
or a jury will decide."
Miss Van Gorder's blue eyes were looking
straight ahead, fixed apparently upon the flexible
ear tips of their driving horse.
"And was that all the Major said?" she en
quired demurely.
" Not quite. He said he had observed that
whenever a young woman notices how a young man
parts his hair you can put it down in black and
white that she has more than a passing interest
in him." Miss Van Gorder made no reply, but gazed far
across a field of corn and watched for a moment
a flock of blackbirds flying noisily overhead. The
road now sloped gently to the ford of a little

182 FAIRHOPE
stream. Usually the water at this crossing was not
a foot deep, but the recent rains had swollen the
little stream until it was now some fifty feet in
width and the water in places nearly up to the
hub of the buggy wheel. They drove in slowly and
were perhaps half-way across when part of the
harness broke, dropping the shafts, and leaving
the tugs and straps dangling about the horse's legs.
Further progress was impossible and the horse
gave evidence of fright.
" Of all places for a mishap, this is the worst ! "
said Vaughn.
Miss Van Gorder showed some evidence of con
cern. " Oh, what shall we do? " she cried.
" Only one thing to do," her companion re
joined. " I've got to get out into this water, quiet
the horse, get him loose from the buggy, take him
to shore, and come back for you."
And right there Vaughn showed how plucky he
was. He removed his spotless cutaway coat and
immaculate white vest, and handed them to the
young lady. Then right over the wheel, went his
patent leather shoes, his fancy hose, and neatly
pressed trousers, into the water up to his knees.
He waded to the horse's head, spoke a few words
to the frightened animal, detached him from the
buggy and led him out. Then he plunged into the
water once more, took hold of the shafts and
pulled the buggy and the fair passenger to the
bank. Miss Van Gorder was elated. " Well done,"

A MINISTER'S WOOING 183
she said. " Why, you're capital, Mr. Preacher !
You're equal to any emergency. But your wet
clothes and the sermon you have to preach ! What
will you do ? "
" Never mind about that," reassured Vaughn.
" The important thing now is to find a piece of
rope or cord. I'll have to mend that harness or
we can't go on."
He searched through all his pockets ; he looked
underneath the high seat and even on the bottom
of the buggy; but not the smallest piece of string
could he find. Vaughn looked at his watch, then
at the broken harness, then helplessly at Jennie
Van Gorder. That young lady's eyes — always
eloquent — were doubly so now with mystery.
The cherry red lips moved.
" Mr. Vaughn, will you please look straight
ahead till I call you ? "
Instantly he turned his head away from his at
tractive companion and gazed " straight ahead."
Afterward he remembered there were three cows,
two horses, a mare and a mule colt in the field.
After what seemed to him an exceedingly long
time, Miss Van Gorder said, " Now ! "
And lo ! that young lady was holding out from
her waist before his very eyes, a smooth white
string. A trembling voice said, " Cut it off right
here." Somewhat awkwardly Vaughn produced a pen
knife and started to cut the string where Jennie's
small fingers indicated. Then he stopped and

1 84 FAIRHOPE
looked at her shyly and stammered, " Why, I
mustn't do it, I — "
" Reverend Harmon Vaughn, you cut that cor
set string this minute, and mend that harness as
quick as you can," she admonished.
And Fairhope's minister straightway did as he
was told. He quickly mended the harness, hitched
the horse again to the buggy, twisted the water out
of his trousers as best he could, and very gingerly
got back into the buggy so as not to allow his damp
clothing to touch the dress of the young lady.
They rode on for a hundred yards or more and
neither spoke a word. Then the young lady spoke
very softly, like the murmur of a mountain brook,
Vaughn thought.
" Mr. Vaughn, you won't mind my saying it, I
hope ; but really I am sincere in asking this of you.
Please don't ever part your hair on the right side
again, or in the middle. Part it on the left side.
It's more becoming there."
For a single second Harmon Vaughn looked
startled, as if not comprehending what Jennie Van
Gorder had said. Then an expression of complete
understanding came into his eyes. He forgot to
glance up or down the road; he did not deign to
observe the fields on either side for farm hands
who might be at work. Fairhope's minister forgot
his wet clothes, his water sodden, patent leather
shoes; even the carefully prepared sermon he was
to preach that evening; forgot everything but Jen
nie Van Gorder. She was looking him full in the

A MINISTER'S WOOING 185
face and the light in her eyes was such as only rapt
young lovers can understand. Timidly, yet reso
lutely, Vaughn bent over and kissed the full red
lips. Harmon Vaughn and Jennie Van Gorder were
married the following December. They had a
church wedding, of course. And such a wedding!
The spacious meeting-house could scarcely hold
the hundreds who came for the great event. It
was a very impressive and dignified wedding as, in
deed, it had a right to be. There was no shower
ing of rice, nor throwing of old shoes after the
couple. The people remained quietly in their seats
until the bride and groom had entered the closed
carriage which was waiting to take them to Cin
cinnati. The Major and Lucy Patton witnessed
the ceremony from the rear of the church and
were the only ones privileged to extend their con
gratulations. Lucy's calm, spirituelle face was
lighted with a sweet smile. " The best of every
thing for you both," she breathed. Then she kissed
Jennie. The Major's fine, old, ruddy countenance was
aglow with love and pride. " God prosper you, my
children," he exclaimed. " Vaughn, you lucky dog,
take good care of her; Jennie, brush his hair,
and ahem! by the way, here's a ball of cord in
case of an accident."
Then he, too, kissed Jennie, wrung Vaughn's
hand, and the carriage rolled away.
Vaughn fills a metropolitan pulpit to-day and

1 86 FAIRHOPE
Jennie matches his brilliance with her winsome
womanliness. Only last week I passed the Van
Gorder homestead and I saw swinging on the gate
a little boy whose deep blue eyes were precisely
like his mother's. I also observed that his hair
tumbled over his forehead after the fashion of his
father's.

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH
Harmon Vaughn's ministry marked high tide at
Fairhope under the old order of things. The de
cline set in before he came and only his buoyant
young leadership and his popularity postponed
the inevitable. After he left, we had a half-dozen
ministers for brief periods; some good, some in
different, and all pessimistic as to Fairhope's fu
ture. Death began to take a heavy toll from the
ranks of our older members. One by one our
strong, dependable veterans answered the last roll
call. More ominous yet, the young life to an
alarming extent disappeared from the church serv
ices. Audiences dwindled and a listless atmosphere
was observable at the morning meeting once so
vibrant with worshipful values.
This condition was by no means confined to Fair-
hope. In fact, it was threatening the very exist
ence of other churches in the county before it be
came acute with us. Two of the congregations in
the southern section had disbanded and the meet
ing-house doors locked. Rural church life was sick
unto death.
The years in their flight dropped the mantle of
Fairhope's fathers upon her sons. In time it came
to pass that George Van Gorder, Harrison Pat
ton, and I were chosen to share the eldership with
Major Menifee. The choice conferred responsi
bility as well as honour and the four of us took
to heart the untoward condition of our historic
189

190 FAIRHOPE
church. In place of looking forward to the Lord's
day worship, we began to dread the droning,
dreary service so different from what we had been
accustomed to in Fairhope meeting-house. We
elders held numerous informal meetings to deter
mine what could be done to stem the tide that
was beating at the citadel of our community life.
It was about this time that the religious press
commenced to discuss the country church prob
lems, devoting much space to editorial and articles
on the subject. Conferences and conventions of re
ligious workers were held in various sections of the
State, seeking to stimulate interest in the country
church. The Agricultural College and Farmer's
Institutes took up the agitation, and the university
at Lexington established a course in Rural Life
Ideals in which the place of the church in the com
munity was recognised as vital.
Some of our membership followed these discus
sions closely and were heartened thereby. Major
Menifee opened a correspondence with the presi
dent of the Seminary, laying the case of Fairhope
before him. The result was that the president
recommended one Roger Edgecomb for our pul
pit and advised us to secure him if at all possible.
He had made a study of rural church work and
was fresh from a special course in community serv
ice. He was, we were informed, an experienced
minister of middle age, a lover of nature, an out-
of-doors man, and a bachelor. The advice of the
seminary president impressed us favourably. In

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 191
fact, we grasped it as the proverbial drowning man
at a straw. Roger Edgecomb was asked to visit
us and the opening chapter of these annals de
scribes the manner of his advent into my life and
foreshadows the beginning of a new epoch in the
community. Edgecomb preached twice in Fairhope meeting
house and remained for a week, as he expressed it,
" to tramp over the country a bit." He seemed to
sense Fairhope's condition at once, but he took
nothing for granted. He conferred fully and
frankly with the elders, scrutinised the membership
roll, and studied carefully what few records of the
Sunday School we could assemble. He visited
widely among the members and throughout the
community, and finally made a two days' trip
through the county with George Van Gorder in
the latter's automobile. Then — and not until
then — was he ready to talk business.
" The county is sadly over-churched," he re
ported. " There are twelve congregations. Three
have shut up shop; five are in feeble condition; all
are needing immediate attention. Fairhope is by
far the best off; and there is, I believe, a future
for it. I like your community. I am already in
love with your hills, your vales, and rocks. You
may not know it, but parts of this county constitute
a birds' paradise. I'll come, but not for less than
a three year period, providing you brethren will
agree to do what I think ought to be done. An
automobile — just an inexpensive runabout — is

192 FAIRHOPE
a necessity in rural church work. As for salary:
you may do one of two things, pay me $1,200 a
year and I will buy my own car ; or I will come for
$1,000 a year and you provide the car."
After such a direct fashion Edgecomb made
known the terms on which he would come. In
Fairhope's palmy days these conditions would
have been easy to meet; now they were difficult.
However, with very slight discussion, we chose the
second of his propositions and agreed to furnish
the automobile. Four families of Fairhope guar
anteed half of the new financial budget; and Roger
Edgecomb — prophet of the new order — became
our minister.
The matter of a boarding place for Edgecomb
gave us some concern for he insisted (and right
fully) on a location close to the meeting-house.
No suitable place seemed available until it oc
curred to me that the prophet's chamber at Maple
Shade was occupied all too seldom these days.
Why not invite the man to stay with us ? The idea
was capital! I lost no time in inviting him; nor
did he in accepting the invitation. He came; and
though little more than two years have elapsed,
I can scarcely realise that Roger Edgecomb and
I have not known each other all our lives.
The first change Edgecomb wrought was in the
appearance of the meeting-house grounds. He di
rected that the high osage fence which enclosed
the church lot like a jail wall, be trimmed imme
diately. The hedge had not been cut for many

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 193
years and had grown up tall and rank, quite ob
scuring the building from the passersby on the pike.
Straightway the hedge was trimmed and the good
lines of the commodious rectangular edifice topped
with graceful steeple, stood out in full view of
travellers on either pike or dirt road.
Next Edgecomb provided for the proper illum
ination of the grounds. A single oil lamp had
aforetime served at the gate, but it had been out of
repair for two or three years, and a dimly lighted
lantern hung on one of the posts cast a yellowish
ray about the entrance. Edgecomb saw that six
strong gasoline lamps were supplied — two at the
gate posts, the others at intervals about the
grounds so as to flood the place with light even on
the darkest night. This innovation invested the
place with a fine glow of genial hospitality and
caused an increased attendance at the night serv
ice. There are two ante-rooms, one on each side of
the main entrance to the meeting-house. They
were long disused and as full of junk as an attic
chamber. One of these Edgecomb cleaned out and
converted into a nature library. He contributed
some of his own volumes and secured others from
the Agricultural College and the Federal govern
mental departments. There were books on birds,
fungi, flowers, reptiles, animals, and a dozen good
works of fiction with out-of-door settings. Edge
comb announced that these books were for the
use of any one who wanted to read them. This

194 FAIRHOPE
" literary bureau " — as Major Menifee called it,
was popular and fruitful. The people responded
to the invitation with alacrity.
Edgecomb's sermons from the first were direct,
practical, and brief. He preached the Gospel
clearly and convincingly, with applications to
everyday life more direct than we were accus
tomed to hear. He paid attention to the music, too,
being blest with a good voice; and he arranged
early in his ministry with us for a class in singing.
He had not been in charge at Fairhope six months
until we noted with deep joy the drift of young
life into the services. A new interest was manifest.
Our minister's little runabout was busy every day
and often late at night. Slowly but surely, he es
tablished points of contact with residents of the
community who had lost all interest in the church.
At the village stores and neighbourhood gather
ings the conversations turned easily into religious
channels. There were many signs that indicated
the church was coming into her own again in our
section of northern Kentucky.
The children of the tenantry have as a class,
been neglected by the country churches; and even
Fairhope in the heyday of its strength was not ac
tive in securing the tenants' children for the Sun
day School. Our church was accustomed to give
one hundred dollars each year for foreign mis
sions, which was good; but within a mile of our
meeting-house were dozens of little chaps growing

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 195
up without education and for the most part lack
ing suitable clothing to wear to Sunday School.
On the whole, we were strangely indifferent to this
missionary opportunity at our very door. Edge
comb changed all this. He created a conscience
among our members in this matter; while he,
himself, was a tireless caller on the families of
our tenants. At first they were a little afraid of
him, but he completely won them over. The chil
dren — usually bashful and tongue tied in the
presence of strangers — began to come regularly
to Sunday School and became after awhile very
much at home in Fairhope meeting-house. At the
end of Edgecomb's first year Fairhope's Sunday
School had broken all previous records, and an
annex of some sort became a necessity. Never be
fore were we so interested in the welfare of the
tenantry, both white and black. It was a revela
tion to us, we had been blind to whitened harvest
fields at our very doors.
The phrase " a community centred ministry "
is one I often see in farm journals or hear at
rural life conferences ; but I never knew just what
possibilities were wrapped up in those words un
til Roger Edgecomb became our spiritual leader.
Then I beheld a great light. An incident of re
cent occurrence is to the point, though it is only
one of the many of a similar nature. Edgecomb
came into the house from a busy half-day spent
among his parishioners. Pausing at the door of the

196 FAIRHOPE
room where I sat writing, he called out, " Mine
host, how would you like a pastoral report of the
forenoon? "
" First rate," I answered.
" Then you shall have it; and in true sermonic
form, at that. Firstly, there's a brand new baby
boy down at Peter Shepherd's establishment (the
Shepherds are tenants on a neighbouring farm),
and I have secured the services of Mrs. Molly
Young as long as she is needed there. Secondly,
Uncle Tommy Townsend is in a bad way. Lum
bago, rheumatism, pleurisy; Tommy only knows
what! So I asked Dr. Hammond to take good
care of him and send the bill to the treasurer of
Fairhope Church. Thirdly, I punctured a tire
down on Garrison to-day, and while I was repair
ing it big John Keeler came along and assisted
me. He didn't say a single swear word the thirty
minutes he was my helper; and he promised to be
at service next Sunday, too. In conclusion, there
is a flock of Cedar-wax Wings in the big trees in
front of Jethro Walmsley's; I counted fourteen.
They're beauties ! You ought to see them ! "
So saying, and without waiting for reply, he
ascended the stairs to his room two steps at a
time, humming " There's a little brown church
in the Wildwood," as he went.
We have enjoyed the ministry of some great
preachers at Fairhope, but they were not nature
lovers such as is Roger Edgecomb. He loves the
soil. " God's dirt," he calls it. And a favourite

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 197
theme with him is " The Soil and the Soul." I
have heard him preach on that subject, lecture on
it, and make it the theme of numerous informal
talks. It was a notable day at the Farmer's In
stitute at Petersburg, when Fairhope's minister
lectured on " The Soil and the Soul." It was the
first time the people of our county ever heard their
land and their Lord so wondrously and beautifully
linked together.
" There are two elements in human life," he
said, " the desire to live and the passion to per
petuate the race. Appetite and love are the con
trolling forces of society. The elemental desires
of humanity are for food and happiness, bread
for the body and bread for the soul. In the study
of history we find two elements: the soil and
the soul. The granary and the synagogue are the
symbols of human life. There has never been a
great civilisation without the soil and the soul.
The ancient nations sprang up along streams and
around bodies of water. Man has always had a
religion. He is incurably religious. The story of
the Garden of Eden is an interesting illustration.
Genesis is the book of beginnings. In the begin
ning of the race we discover two things: the soil
and the soul. God is the great Horticulturist. He
planted a garden eastward in Eden. He created
man in His own image and made him the keeper
of the garden. From that day until this, both ele
ments have been present in world growth. We
need food for the body and food for the soul."

198 FAIRHOPE
In order to win the young life in the commun
ity for the church, Edgecomb mingled freely with
the young people at all sorts of gatherings. He
even made bold to attend the Harvest Home as
sembly where dancing was a popular feature.
Some of the ministers in the county had assailed bit
terly these dances and condemned vigorously the
young people who took part in them. Edgecomb
did not give the dances at the Harvest Home his
approval; but he made it a point to drive into the
grounds along toward the close of the festivities
and in a friendly manner — free from the least
suspicion of a patronising spirit — made the
young people know that he was interested in them
and had at heart their highest good. So it came
about naturally that the young life began to centre
again in Fairhope meeting-house. In a few months
young people were conspicuous in all the services ;
and when for the first time in Fairhope's history
ushers were selected and assigned their places, it
was young men who were chosen for that impor
tant work.
Still more significant in the changing order of
our community's religious life was an incident of
Edgecomb's first year's ministry at Fairhope. As
has been observed in other chapters of these an
nals, we are immersionists ; and our churches are
stout defenders of the baptismal ordinance ac
cording to the practice of the Apostolic Church.
Practically all the debates and much of the con
troversy centred about this ordinance and its ob-

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 199
servance in conformity to New Testament teach
ing. Shortly after Edgecomb began his ministry
at Fairhope, a family by the name of Hanford
moved into our community. They were very ac
tive Christians and had been useful members of a
church which baptises by affusion. From the first
the Hanfords entered into our services with en
thusiasm. The husband and wife had letters from
their church certifying that they were members in
good standing, commending them to the Chris
tian love and over sight of the congregation wher
ever the letter should be presented. There were
three children in the family ranging from eleven to
eighteen years of age, and the advent of the Han
fords into a most active interest in the Sunday
School and all the services of Fairhope was almost
epochal. One day about six weeks after they had
been worshipping at Fairhope, Mr. Hanford
called to see Roger Edgecomb and handed him the
church letters.
" Brother Edgecomb," he explained, " I know
the custom of your church to receive into fellow
ship only those who have been immersed. Now we
want to work with your congregation here. In
fact, we are already working with you, and are in
heartiest sympathy with all your plans for a com
munity church. We expect to pay and pray, to
work in the Sunday School, and assist in every way
in the Lord's work ; but neither my wife nor my
self can see any reason for being rebaptised.
Please take these letters, keep them for us, and if

200 FAIRHOPE
we should leave this community return them to

us."

Edgecomb took the letters, and the next Lord's
day he called a meeting of the elders. He related
to us the incident and repeated as nearly as he
could recall the words of Mr. Hanford's request.
Seldom have I seen his face more serious or his
manner of speech more earnest.
" Men, I've been wondering what I ought to
do about these letters," he said. " Just here is a
subtle and difficult point in the building up of a
community church. These people are not ready to
go all the way with us doctrinally; but they love
the same Lord, and they are already among our
most zealous and competent workers. All they
ask is to be allowed to work side by side with us.
They are not asking any other recognition than
that of fellow-workers, and not that publicly. It
is probable that similar cases will come up from
time to time in the rebuilding of our Christian
communities. I believe we ought to meet this is
sue frankly and decide now what our policy shall
be. After some reflection I have a suggestion:
Suppose I state to the congregation just what Mr.
Hanford stated to me when he handed me the
letters; and further, that I speak our hearty ap
preciation of these Christian workers and voice
the belief which I fervently cherish that in circum
stances of this kind it becomes us to practise the
unity of Christian service wherever possible; and
that out of such practice other unifying processes

THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH 201
may rightfully be expected to follow. Of course,
I could keep these letters and say nothing about
them publicly, and the Hanfords would go on
working with us just the same. But it occurs to
me that to make some simple statement of the fact
as I have suggested is more brotherly and just,
and perhaps may help to solve this knotty question
of an enfeebled religious life in the community.
What have you men to say about it? "
We listened closely to our minister's earnest
presentation of the case. There was not a man
of us but realised it touched the heart of a serious
condition which had grown more deplorable in
recent years. We were filled with a lofty hope that
out of this simple and informal recognition of the
Hanfords as fellow-workers in the kingdom of
God there might accrue a still deeper unity in a
common faith. Consequently there was not a dis
senting voice among us ; but instead, an unanimous
approval of the minister's suggestion.
The following Lord's day morning Mr. Edge
comb made a statement before the congregation
similar to the one made in the presence of the
elders, and heartily approved by them. When he
had finished and we arose to sing the closing hymn,
" Bless be the tie that binds our hearts in Chris
tian love," it seemed to some of us that we were
back again in the days of Fairhope's former
strength and prosperity, for the glory of the She-
kinah filled the meeting-house.
One night recently I chanced to pass Fairhope

202 FAIRHOPE
meeting-house on my way to the city. It was a
week night, yet a crowd was assembling for a lec
ture and sociable. The grounds were flooded with
light; the meeting-house windows glowed hospita
bly; and from a throng of young people there
floated out upon the fragrant air fresh young
voices in pleasant conversation, mingled with rip
ples of merry laughter. With a joy in my heart too
full for words, I drove cityward. Fairhope's fu
ture was big with promise, and my cup overflowed.

A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE

A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE
As turns and twists the pike road, it is all of two
miles from Maple Shade to Fairhope; but across
the intervening fields and by paths familiar to me,
it is little more than half so far. I have always
been something of a pedestrian; quite unusual, too,
in a community where men and women prefer to
ride or drive even to the nearest neighbour. It is
my love for tramping about the fields and along
the pike that inspired one of our negro tenants to
describe me as " the walkin'est white man in Ken
tucky." My tramps take me often past Fairhope
meeting-house, and sometimes I stop for rest in
the shade of the lordly trees, and for a period of
reflection in the nearby plot where sleep so many
whom I have known and loved in the flesh.
Since I began these annals almost a twelve
month has passed. Spring is later with us this year
than usual; and though May is ten days old, only
within the past week has the full tide of the sea
son's loveliness burst over northern Kentucky. As
if eager to compensate for the delay in genial glow
of sunshine, glory of wild flower, and ecstasy of
bird song, nature is fairly prodigal now in her lav-
ishness. Yesterday afternoon was still young when I set
out for a leisurely stroll in the direction of Fair-
hope. The migrants are tarrying in these parts,
loath to leave such bowers of beauty as abound
in the deep ravines and cool, sequestered tangles of
205

2o6 FAIRHOPE
underbrush. Yesterday the warblers were espe
cially numerous and my progress was therefore
slow. Often stopping to watch a familiar bird, and
occasionally led aside in order to get a good look
at a rarer species, I was a full hour reaching Fair-
hope. I paused beneath the grateful shade in front
of the meeting-house before entering the grassy
area where Fairhope's membership is more numer
ous than on her church roll.
Of all the names applied to the place where re
pose our dead, I like " God's Acre " best. The
word " cemetery " is formal, and " graveyard " is
a cold and heartless term. But " God's Acre " is
full of comfort and to me a phrase of uncommon
tenderness. Fairhope's " God's Acre " is rightly
praised both for its natural beauty and for the
care bestowed upon it by the deft hands of our men
and women. It occurs to me that where ever man
gives thought and care to a burial ground, God Al
mighty surpasses him in wealth and wonder of
trees and grass and wild flowers. Our neighbour
hood takes a just pride in caring for the hallowed
area west of the meeting-house ; it is well kept but
not so as to mar a certain wild beauty which in
early spring and midsummer is seen at its best.
There is a rustic bench to the left of Colonel
Fairhope's grave and nearly opposite the Board-
man lot. Thither I went, and scarcely had I sat
down when I detected the tang of tobacco smoke
and simultaneously I heard footsteps. Only one

A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE 207
man in the community smokes so fragrant a leaf
and I was not surprised, but very glad, to see Ma
jor Menifee shortly after enter the gate. He saw
me at once.
" Ah, Davy," he hailed, " you here, too? Well,
sir, it's a good thing to visit this place at times
other than an interment."
My hand met the Major's in a clasp of singular
warmth. We sat down together. The Major re
moved his wide-brimmed, bell-crowned hat, and
tossed it on the ground at his feet. " Davy," he
queried, " do you come here often? "-
"Yes, Major; frequently in spring and
autumn." " Strange," he reflected, " I haven't met you
here before. The truth is I've been coming a great
deal of late myself. This evening I brought a
mare over to be shod and I decided I could spend
the time more profitably here than at the shop.
It's a good place to reflect; quiet reigns, and it's
far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.
Davy, there's a verse in Ecclesiastes which I used
to regard as a bit of pessimism; but, sir, I'm comin'
to think highly of it. You'll recall the verse, ' It is
better to go to the house of mourning than to the
house of feasting.' There is a wholesome philoso
phy in that, Davy. There is something wholesome,
sir, in such a blessed vista as this."
The Major spread out his arms in a gesture
which took in the entire cemetery.

208 FAIRHOPE
" You and I think alike on such subjects," I as
sented. " Never shall I forget a June day when I
visited Stokes Pogis."
The Major's eyes sparkled, for Gray's Elegy
was one of his favourites.
I continued, " Major, this spot means to you
and me all that any beautiful, well-kept God's Acre
means and infinitely more."
" That it does, Davy. We are at home here
where Fairhope is so eloquently represented.
Think of it ! Jacob Boardman, Franklin Van Pelt,
Judge Patton, Luke Van Gorder, Giles Shockley,
your mother and father, Davy; my father and
mother, my wife, my son — "
The Major's voice faltered. He did not go on.
His pipe had gone out, but he did not relight it. A
slight breeze was wafted from the West laden with
the fragrance of honeysuckle. From a tree some
where beyond the hedge row a Maryland yellow-
throat sang, " Witchity-witchity-witchity; " and a
meadow-lark flying low overhead carolled his
cheerful, " 'Tis sweet to sing ! 'Tis sweet to sing ! "
The Major did not speak until he was sure of
himself, and then he was in a reminiscent mood.
" I have lived to see this place become populous.
Many's the time I have heard Richard Marvin
pray at open graves here. Davy, did you ever
know his like when it came to talking to God Al
mighty as a little child might talk to his mother?
Did you ever hear it done as Marvin did it,
Davy?"

A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE 209
I shook my head. " You never have and you
never will," affirmed the Major solemnly.
" No, Major," I replied, " there was only one
Richard Marvin. Thank God we were privileged
to know him so long and intimately. He was and
is part of Fairhope's glorious history. Nor will
there ever be just such another rural church as
Fairhope, Major. There will be better churches
perhaps, and more efficient congregations; but not
of the Fairhope type that flourished thirty years
ago. The age is new and the times are different;
and, Major, God has men for every age. As Rich
ard Marvin was in his day, so Edgecomb is in this
day. I want to believe that with the passing of the
old order of rural church life the glory that lighted
up yonder meeting-house with an unearthly glow,
will abide and must abide wherever God is wor
shipped in spirit and in truth."
The Major let his eyes rest long and affection
ately upon Fairhope's meeting-house before reply
ing; stroking slowly his white goatee, a habit of
his that betokened deep reflection. When he did
speak his voice was low and reverent-like.
"Well spoken, Davy. God bless us both! We
are optimists to the core ! Davy, the old customs
are going out. The fact is, I never take my toddy
in the presence of my guests any longer. I'm ac
tually abashed to be seen drinking a mint julep,
Dave. Times are different and standards of living
are changing. The country's going dry fast, and
it's all for the best. Why, sir, I believe with you

210 FAIRHOPE
that Fairhope's best days are in the future — not
in the past. For one thing, our church never has
done full duty by the tenants. Edgecomb has
opened our half-closed eyes wide, Davy. And, sir,
I have faith in the future of this county. Old
Boone is going to renew its youth like the eagle.
Just now this section of Kentucky is at a low ebb ;
but the tide is bound to turn. A more picturesque
corner of the State than this cannot be found. And
such scenery ! Davy Westbrooke, you and I have
travelled some; but where is there such another
sight as our great river hill a mile in length with
the turnpike winding about like the coils of a great
serpent? And the view from the deep centre of the
biggest bend : a wonderful vista of the Ohio Val
ley and the majestic rivers, the boats, and the high
hills apparelled in God Almighty's green ! Then
there is the panorama that greets the eye from the
big hills above Petersburg; the fertile valley farm
land, the little town nestling among the trees, and
beyond the winding river, the Indiana bottoms,
and in the distance the farther hills glorified with
the haze of heaven. Why, Davy, it is God's own
country, is this northern Kentucky."
The Major's speech, which had begun low, fin
ished in deep, full tones. It was a long speech even
for him. I waited for him to continue as I was
deeply stirred. But the Major arose, and I with
him. He slipped the pipe into his pocket and linked
his arm in mine. He led me a short distance to a
nearby plot where flowers were blooming in a tan-

A PROPHECY IN GOD'S ACRE 211
gle of vine and leaf; and gently halted me before
a square, substantial block of granite with the in
scription I knew by heart:
HENRY CLAY MENIFEE JUNIOR
BORN FEBRUARY 2, 1 868.
DIED OCTOBER 28, 1 888.
"CHRIST SHALL BE MAGNIFIED IN MY
BODY, WHETHER BY LIFE OR BY DEATH/'
PHIL. I : 20.
The Major stood uncovered and erect, like a
soldier at attention. But I could feel the tremble
of his arm resting within my own, and once he
heaved a deep sigh. The place was very still save
for the slumberous, restful murmur of bees busy
among the myriad blossoms.
" Davy, are you familiar with 'Gene Field's
' The Singing in God's Acre ' ? enquired the Ma
jor, still erect and looking straight ahead.
" I have read the verses, though I cannot recall
them," I answered.
" Well, sir, a verse of that poem expresses my
emotions whenever I leave this place."
The Major's rigid figure relaxed. " I feel like
speaking them out loud as though every resident
of this place were listening:
" Sleep, O sleep,
The Shepherd guardeth His sheep.
Fast speedeth the night away,
Soon cometh the golden day,
Sleep, weary ones, while you may,
Sleep, O sleep."

212 FAIRHOPE
As he spoke the lines with deep feeling, the
Major turned his head and his brave old eyes
swept slowly the entire enclosure, resting in tender
gaze as he finished upon the grey stone in front
of him. Then again the silence fell upon us, only
to be broken shortly by my companion's hearty,
" Come, go home with me, Davy."
Slowly we walked toward the pike road, our
feet sinking in the soft-tufted earth at each step.
As we passed through the gates with the shining
lamps on either side, a saucy chuckle followed by a
low musical whistle fell athwart my ears. It was as
though an old friend had flung me salutation.
Turning my head quickly, I caught a glimpse of
a yellow-breasted chat as he dashed from the
hedge row and darted into a deep tangle of foliage
at the rear of Fairhope meeting-house.

the end

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