CHAPTER VIII.

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS.

A MEMORABLE CITY AND CHURCH--JOHN BROWNFIELD--DAVID STOVER--CONVERSION-- PARENTAL INFLUENCE--CALL TO PREACH--ATTEND ASBURY UNIVERSITY--LICENSED TO PREACH--JOIN CONFERENCE--FIRST CIRCUIT--SECOND CIRCUIT--TWO GRACIOUS REVIVALS--FIRST CONVERT'S TRIUMPHANT DEATH--ORDAINED DEACON--BISHOP WAUGH.

n the banks of the Saint Joseph River, in the northern part of the State of Indiana, stands the beautiful city of South Bend.. Near the center of this city stands a beautiful church. Around this church cluster many sacred and most hallowed associations.
     I can not remember when I was first convicted of sin. I always felt that I was a sinner, and unless converted, "born again," I should be lost forever.. I attribute my early conviction of sin to the faithful instructions given me by a devoted father and mother. From my very earliest recollections, I was taught the fundamental doctrines of Christianity. The depravity of the heart, the necessity of pardon and regeneration, a general judgment-day, a hell into which all

the finally impenitent will be turned, a heaven where all the pure will enter and be forever perfectly happy, were doctrines instilled into my mind from earliest childhood, all of which I found clearly taught in God's Word.
     For three years previous to my conversion I was under deep conviction nearly all the time. I have always been grateful to God for the many well-defined points in my religious experience. I was clearly and powerfully convicted of sin, clearly and powerfully converted, clearly and powerfully convicted of the need of a clean heart, and just as clearly received that blessing. I was clearly and powerfully called to the work of the ministry. So clear was my call to preach the gospel, that all doubt touching the matter was entirely swept from my mind soon after receiving the call.
     On Monday morning, the 4th day of March, 1853, I attended a love-feast, held in the above-named church. From that love-feast, with a sad and heavy heart, weighed down under the crushing load of sin, I wended my way to the Bible Depository, kept by John Brownfield. Here the reader will pardon me for digressing for a moment. I can not refrain from a personal reference to my first Sunday-school superintendent. John Brownfield was superintendent of the same school for forty-three years in succession. He made a

wonderful record as a Sunday-school superintendent. He was deeply pious, and very greatly interested in the welfare of the young. He was eminently practical, and availed himself of passing events and the most common occurrences to impress religious truth upon the minds of his pupils. In this he was an adept. In fact, in this, I think I may safely say, he was unusually apt. Some of his simple illustrations, taken from every-day life, I remember distinctly to-day, although I was a mere boy when I heard them. His kind words and faithful teachings as a superintendent have never passed from my memory. They have been a benediction to me for more than a third of a century.
     The following testimonial card, from the Sunday-school of the First Methodist Episcopal Church of South Bend, Indiana, was presented to Brother Brownfield January 1, 1882:

Testimonial,

Approved by the Sunday-school of the First Methodist Episcopal Church, South Bend, Indiana, January 1, 1882.

     WHEREAS,

JOHN BROWNFIELD

HAS BEEN THE SUPERINTENDENT OF OUR

Sunday-school

FOR THE LAST

FORTY-THREE YEARS;

     AND WHEREAS,
     Because of the burden of seventy-three years, he now declines to serve us longer in that office; therefore, be it said to him and to the

WORLD,

     First. That we deeply deplore the occasion which has led to his declinature.
     Second. That we are proud of the long and faithful record of his superintendency.
     Third. That we cordially indorse the action of the Sunday-school Board by which he is now entitled

Honorary Superintendent

for life.
     Fourth. That we shall never cease to feel that we are honored by his presence in the school and aided by his counsels in our work. And furthermore, we must be al. lowed to say to any who may see this

TESTIMONIAL

that in him whom we honor to-day we have marked,
     First. The manliest type of manhood.
     Second. The purest Christian character.
     Third. The most patient and toilsome zeal in

ALL GOD'S WORKS.

     The moral and religious characters which have grown up in the school during his administration, will make for him a more enduring monument than brass or stone. The only adequate reward of his labors will come when his

DIVINE MASTER SHALL SAY TO HIM,

"Well done, thou GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT; enter thou into

The Joy of Thy Lord."

     Postmaster-General Wanamaker is one of the most noted Sunday-school superintendents of the age. He has been superintendent of the Bethany

Church Sunday-school for thirty-two years. John Brownfield, as superintendent of the same school, ranked Mr. Wanamaker eleven years. Mr. Brownfield was honorary superintendent for eight years; virtually he was at the head of the same school for fifty-one years. That certainly is an honor of which any man may well be proud.
     General C. B. Fisk said at the close of the war, "I have been promoted from a major-general to a Sunday-school superintendent." A successful Sunday-school superintendent outranks all the officers of the army and navy. After triumphantly leading the Sunday-school of the First Methodist Episcopal Church of South Bend, Indiana, for forty-three years, Brother Brownfield had a right to rest in peace and quiet under the laurels he had so justly won. At the advanced age of eighty-two, on the 21st day of January, 1890, he passed peacefully from his earthly to his heavenly home. David Stover was my first Sunday-school teacher. His faithful teachings have never been forgotten. I love to think of my first Sunday-school superintendent, and my first Sunday-school teacher. Their names are sacred. Brother Brownfield has ceased to work. Brother Stover, though advanced in years, is still doing effective work for God.
     On that ever-to-be-remembered Monday morning, I entered the Bible Depository and purchased

a pocket Bible. This was my first step towards a religious life. The next step was a firm and solemn resolve made, by the grace of God, to be a Christian. That night I went to church, and after listening to a sermon from the pastor, the Rev. James C. Reid, an invitation was given for seekers of religion to come to the altar. I was the first person on my knees at the "mercy-seat." Christian. friends and relatives gathered around me, all intensely interested and anxious for my salvation. Among the number was a now sainted mother. The gloom of despair settled down upon my soul. The darkness was dense; so dense it seemed to me it could almost be felt. Satan said: "You have sinned away your day of grace. There is no mercy for such a sinner as you."
     Not knowing the wiles of the enemy, I believed every, word he said. It was a dark hour. Never will it be forgotten. But just at that moment, when all seemed lost and hell certain, my faithful mother whispered in my ears the inspiring words, "Jesus came into the world to save the chief of sinners." I turned from Satan's lying words to Jesus, the "Mighty to save," and grasping in an instant the precious promise, the cloud rifted, the sunlight of heaven came streaming down into my soul, and leaping to my feet, I shouted, "Glory to God in the highest!" I never shall forget that hour. Its precious memory lingers with me to-

day. I love the hymn, and I have sometimes thought I would sing it forever:

     Mothers will have rich trophies in glory. The power of example is wonderful. It is wonderful for good or for evil. It can not be weighed, or measured, or estimated. A boy astonished his Christian mother by asking her for a dollar to buy a share in a raffle for a silver watch, that was to be raffled off in a beer-saloon. His mother was horrified, and rebuked him. "But," said he, "mother, did you not bake a cake with a ring in it to be raffled off in a Sunday-school fair?" "O, my son," said she, "that was for the Church." "But if it was wrong," said the boy, "would doing

it for the Church make it right? Would it be right for me to steal money to put in the collection? And if it is right for the Church, is it not right for me to get this watch if I can?" The mother was completely dumfounded, and could not answer her son. She had set the example, and her boy was following it.
     Josh Billings, a great humorist, and a wise man as well, once said: "If you wish to train up your child in the way he should go, just skirmish ahead on that line yourself."
     The mother of John Quincy Adams said, in a letter to him, written when he was only ten years old: "I would rather see you laid in your grave than grow up a profane and graceless boy." Not long before. the death of Mr. Adams a gentleman said to him: "I have found out who made you." "What do you mean?" said Mr. Adams. The gentleman replied: "I have been reading the published letters of your mother." Raising himself up, his countenance all aglow, and his eyes flashing with light and fire, the venerable man, in his peculiar manner, said: "Yes, sir; all that is good in me I owe to my mother."
     The hallowed influence of John Wesley's mother is felt to-day on almost every part of this planet. The benign and salutary influence of Washington's mother is molding nations and empires. No work will bring more honor to the

mother, the children, the Church, and the world, than the religious training of the children. Teach them by example as well as by precept. Bishop Foss once said: "There is nothing better for children than allopathic doses of mother."
     But perhaps some one is ready to ask: "What about the fathers in this work of training the children?" Well, I want to say that fathers are equally responsible with the mothers for the right training of the children. Among the many rich blessings conferred upon me by a kind Providence, not the least by any means was pious parents. Not a day passes but that I praise God for a godly father and a godly mother. Their precious memory "is as ointment poured forth." I love to think of them as they used to call us children to family prayers. They took turns in conducting family worship. One of them would take down the old family Bible, read a chapter, and then lead in prayer; the next morning the other would read and lead in prayer. I love to think of them as I used to see them wending their way to the house of God.
     On quarterly meeting occasions father almost always stopped work at nine o'clock Saturday morning, and went to the eleven o'clock preaching service. That had a most wonderful effect on my young heart. I remember, just as distinctly as if it were yesterday, seeing my father
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start off to quarterly meeting one Saturday morning. It was at a very busy season of the year. I never shall forget just how I felt, and just what I said to myself. I said: "I know father is a good man, or he never would stop work at such a busy time to go to Church." They were just as faithful at the prayer and class meetings as they were at the public means of grace, and they were just as prompt in paying their quarterage as they were in attending all the services of the Church.
     At one time quarterly meeting came when father was away from home, and mother, from some cause, could not attend. In the afternoon she gave me a two-dollar bill, and told me to take it to the class-leader. Two dollars was a good deal of money for us at that time, for we were not in the most affluent circumstances. I walked two miles and a half to the house of the class-leader, carrying in my hand the two-dollar bill. I remember distinctly the bank-bill. It was a two-dollar note on the old State Bank of Indiana. That simple incident made a deep and lasting impression on my mind. I felt that mother's religion was of some value, and that she considered it worth something. Too many, alas! place no value at all on their religion. They want it for nothing, and think it a hardship if they have to pay a small pittance quarterly

to support God's messengers while they proclaim the glad tidings of salvation. When Araunah offered to give David the threshing-floor and the oxen that he might offer a sacrifice to God, David declined the liberal and kindly offer, saying: "Nay; but I will surely buy it of thee at a price; neither will I offer burnt-offerings unto the Lord my God of that which doth cost me nothing. So David bought the threshing-floor and the oxen for fifty shekels of silver. And David built there an altar unto the Lord, and offered burnt-offerings and peace-offerings." (2 Sam. xxiv, 24.) David bought the oxen, then offered them to God as a sacrifice, and they were acceptable in the sight of the Almighty. Heavenly fire descended and consumed the offering, and a great and rich blessing came to David and all his people. Had David accepted the magnanimous offer of Araunah, it would have been Araunah's sacrifice, and not David's, and the result would have been, no blessing would have come to David or his people, but the plague would have gone on as before. A religion that costs nothing is a religion that is worth nothing. No one will highly esteem the ordinances of God if they do not cost him anything.
     My precious parents would sooner go without their tea and coffee, or any of the necessaries of life, than not to pay their quarterage. That fact

impressed my young heart as deeply as their regularity in attending the house of God. The delightful remembrance of my devoted parents is far more precious to me than any thing this world could possibly give. Their hallowed influence has been a benediction to me for more than fifty years. The fragrance of their lives is with me to-day, and will remain with me forever. If I am ever rewarded for any good done here on earth, my sainted parents will share with me in that reward.
     Only a few days after conversion the impression came, "You must preach." Many times before, often when far away on the Pacific Coast, the thought would flit through my mind; "You will preach some day." It was never entertained, however, for a moment, but was instantly banished as one of the visionary and silly thoughts that often enter the mind of the young. But when I was converted the impression came to stay. It fastened itself to my heart so strongly I never could rid myself of it. Shortly after conversion, while thinking over the matter, the pastor, Brother James C. Reid, said to me: "Henry, do you not think God has a work for you to do?" I was astonished, and looked at him with amazement. I frankly told him my feelings, and opened to him my heart. He said: "I will get you a scholarship in the Asbury Uni-

versity." A few months later I received the scholarship, and went to Asbury--now DePauw University--at Greencastle, Indiana, to prepare for my life-work.
     I had been in Greencastle only a little while--my probation had not yet expired--when Brother G. C. Beeks, the pastor, appointed me class-leader. The class was composed mostly of old members of the Church--fathers and mothers in Israel--with only a few younger members. It met on Sunday morning at nine o'clock at the residence of Brother Dunams. With much trembling and great fear I took the class. The first meeting was owned of God. The room was filled with the Divine glory, and all seemed to enjoy a rich feast. I led this class while I remained in Greencastle, and I never shall forget the many Pentecosts we enjoyed in Brother Dunams's parlor with the members of that spirit-baptized class. I expect to hail with delight the members of that class on the plains of glory.
     On the 23d of June, 1855, I was examined before the Greencastle Quarterly Conference on "Doctrines and Discipline." Several other candidates for the ministry were examined with me. The examination was rigid, and lasted several hours, but it was conducted with great kindness by Aaron Wood, the presiding elder. All the great doctrines of the Church were thoroughly

canvassed, and on each one we were closely questioned. Then there was a vein of piety running through the whole examination, which made it wonderfully solemn. Every member of the Conference seemed deeply interested in it. All felt the presence of God. To me the examination was a solemn hour. The next morning the presiding elder handed me the following paper:

"JUNE 23, 1855.

     "License is hereby granted to Henry T. Davis, to preach in the Methodist Episcopal Church, by order of the Quarterly Conference of Greencastle Station.

"AARON WOOD, President.

     The following October I was received on trial in the Northwest Indiana Conference, held at Delphi, Indiana, and was appointed junior preacher of Russellville Circuit. H. S. Shaw was preacher in charge. That year I learned lessons in the administration of discipline which have been of very great value to me ever since.
     Dr. T. M. Eddy was then agent of the American Bible Society. We had traveled together from South Bend, and had become quite intimately acquainted. Saturday afternoon he took me by the arm, and, looking very solemn, said: "Well, Brother Davis, it took the whole Conference to get you in." At first blush I did not catch his meaning, and I looked at him with

surprise. He smiled. I understood him. The vote was unanimous.
     The next year I was appointed to the Sanford Circuit. This circuit was composed of five appointments, lying just west of Terre Haute.
     During this year God gave us two gracious revivals of religion, one at "Pisgah" appointment, and the other at "Bethesda." Some who were converted at these meetings are now upon the walls of Zion doing effective work for the Master. The first meeting was held at Pisgah. At the close we began one at Bethesda, and continued it two weeks, during which time seventy souls were clearly converted. God's saving power was manifested from the beginning to the close. The converts ranged from little children to gray-haired fathers and mothers. Whole families were wonderfully saved. Ten month after this meeting we saw the first convert pass triumphant to her home in glory. The scene, though solemn, was at the same time glorious.
     At this meeting, Martha Romine, her father, mother, and brothers, were all converted. Ten months afterwards, Martha with stricken down with that fell destroyer, typhoid fever, from which she never recovered. Her sickness was characterized by patience, resignation, and great joy. The last visit we made, we found her very near death's door. She had not spoken for twenty.

four hours, and the power of speech seemed forever gone. For some time she had been delirious. We knelt down by her bedside and prayed, and as we prayed,

"Heaven came down our souls to greet,
     And glory crowned the mercy-seat."

     When we arose, she broke forth in a clear, sweet, heavenly voice, and sung,

"When I can read my title clear
     To mansions in the skies,
I'll bid farewell to every fear,
     And wipe my weeping eyes."

     She sung the hymn through, and in a few minutes afterwards her pure spirit went up to join the angelic throng.
     I love to think of the results of that victorious meeting. It was my first great victory in the ministry. It has been an inspiration to me ever since. I expect to meet and live forever with many who were saved at that meeting, and many who stood side by side with me on that spiritual battle-field. We shall not be among strangers when we reach heaven. I have sometimes thought I could almost see the battlements of glory lined with friends and loved ones, waiting and watching our approach, intensely anxious to hail us welcome when we reach the "shining shore."
     "What a meeting, what a meeting that will be!"

     On the 17th day of September, 1857, I was married to Miss Emily McCulloch, of Vigo County, Indiana, and for thirty-three years she has shared with me the joys and sorrows, lights and shadows, conflicts and triumphs of the itinerancy. Had we our lives to live over again, and were we permitted to choose our life-work, we would unhesitatingly say, "Give us the Methodist itinerancy."
     This year the Conference met at Lafayette. The venerable Bishop Waugh presided. On Sunday, October 4, 1857, I was ordained deacon by this holy man. I remember well the sermon the bishop preached on the occasion. His text was Rev. ii, 10: "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." It was a remarkable sermon, not for its eloquence or profundity, but because of its strange and mysterious power. It was delivered with an unction that thrilled and electrified every one in the vast audience. It was plain and simple; the smallest child could understand every sentence, but it was attended with overwhelming power. In his peroration the bishop seemed transported to the third heaven, and he carried the congregation up with him into the very presence of God and angels. The congregation was bathed in tears, and shouts of "Glory! Glory!" were heard all over the house. It was a memorable occasion.
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