From infidelity to Christianity

Chapter I. Early Recollections

Birth, ancestry, and relatives.— A bad boy and bad company.— First trousers.— First exploits.— Has to wear a dress.— Cousin Sue.— Uncle Johnnie Simmons.— Not a pet. — House catches fire. . . . . 11-19

Chapter II. Boyhood Days

First steps to infidelity.— -Frequently whipped.— Prayer not answered.— Baptizing sheep.— Playing at deer hunting.— Shot with an arrow.— George's abuse.— Cruelty of father. — Forced to lie.— Steals father's sugar.— Playhouse upset.— Works in field.— George in a fight.— Plenty of widows . . 21-32

Chapter III. At School

Description of schoolhouse.— First teacher.— Tom Holloway.— Sleight of hand tricks.— Quits in thirteenth year.— Could not write name. . . . . 33-37

Chapter IV. Approaching Manhood

Father still cruel.— Severe whipping.— Bad companions.— Fond of riding.— One pair of boots and one suit of jeans a year.— Description of clothes. — Kaising potatoes.— Habit of drinking contracted by stealing father's sugar.— Eebelling against father.— At Mr. Dossett's.— Kind treatment.— Father marries and aunt moves.— b CONTENTS.

Drinking and card-playing.— Keturns to father's again. — Trouble with stepmother.— At Mr. Atkin's.— Plenty of whisky.— A shooting affray. — Accepts another offer from father 39-53

Chapter V. Downward Steps

On a spree.— Measles.— Dancing.— Gets into trouble and is arrested. — Plays pig. — Leaves the country. — Works for Mr. Hughes.— Back to father's.— Brother in a fight.— Popular with the girls.— Father's death. — Mischief of stepmother.— Trouble over the estate.— Leaves home for good. — Caution to girls. ..... 55-66

Chapter VI. Drunkenness And Infidelity

Twenty-one years of age. — Advice to mothers. — Proposes marriage.— A terrible drunkard.— Eides into a store.— Hurt by a horse.— Feigns to preach.— Starts for Kentucky.— Sickness and a vision.— More trouble.— Escapes to Missouri.— A wood-cutter.— Given up to die of consumption.— Eeturns to effect compromise.— A man is shot. — A low life. — Visits Xew Orleans. — Mike Long. — Disabled with Eheumatism.— Drowns team of mules.— Marriage.— Poverty and hardship. — Hires by the day.— Settles on farm.— Domestic troubles.— Son born.— Horse dealer. — At Marion fair. — Quits drinking for twelve months. — Eeturns to drunkenness again. — Child afflicted. — Call from God. — Decides with infidels and child dies. — A total wreck. — Attempts suicide. — Helps poor and orphans. ... . ... 67-1]

Chapter VII. Dark Career Continued

Meets with loss.— Trouble with sawmill men.— Lawsuit.— Hires for fifty cents per day.— Falls under wagon wheel.

CONTENTS. 7

—Mrs. J. E. Lambert.— Agitated over troubles.— Whisky again.— Locked up.— Falls from a fence.— Another son.— Child sick, but recovers.— Continues to drink heavily.— Whisky torture.— Takes the last drink.— Goes to meeting. — Willis Bunch.— Divine healing. — Prayer answered.— Life at about an end.— Given up to die.— Counts cost of being a Christian. ..... 111-136

Chapter VIII. From Sin To Grace

Uneasiness.— Largest deal in life.— Decision to quit sin.— Troubled on account of sin.— Wonderfully convicted.— Illuminated with pardon. — Peace with God and man. — Sanctification. — Wonderfully changed. — Call to preach. — Tests come.— Brother C— Tobacco.— The preacher.— A wonderful meeting.— Healed of different diseases.— Taught humility. — Tested on sanctification. — Tal Merritt. —Pneumonia fever. — Child healed.— Must obey call to preach.— Disposal of property. . . . 137-174

Chapter IX. First Gospel Labors

With Baptist preacher.— Wife saved.— Tested.— Calls from different places.— Opposition.— Fasting.— Instructed in a vision. — Trying experiences. — A mob. — Nashville, Tenn. —Services on steamboat.— At home again.— Marion, Ky. —The boy preacher.— Street preaching.— Yincennes, Ind. —Separates from coworker.— Family sick.— Move to Marion, Ky.— With Methodist preacher.— The afflicted healed.— Carrsville, Ky 175-243

Chapter X. Into Larger Fields

At Paducah, Ky.— Miracles of healing.— Mechanicsburg.— Newspaper reports.— Called to Metropolis, 111.— Healings continue. — Tent meetings. — Burned by gasoline lamp. —

O CONTENTS.

Loses voice. — Kosiclare, 111.— Afflicted with itch.— Youngest boy very sick.— God heals.— Smallpox.— Young lady falls dead in meeting.— Called to epidemic district.— Death of Tal Merritt.— Eeceives money to pay store bill. — Persecutions.— A book agent.— Charley goes to school and joins the Methodists, but is prayed out.— Family needs. — Baptist preacher wants miracle performed. — Kosetta Brown.— Mob gathers.— Newspaper libel. . 245-325

CHAPTER XL

WITH THE LORD'S PEOPLE.

First meeting with the saints. — Joined by coworkers. — On road to Moundsville, W. Va. — Provisions low. — Lydia Kriebel.— Moundsville meeting.— Back to Kentucky. — Camp-meeting at Dorena, Mo. — Slanderous reports. — Many other experiences could be given. — Eeasons for writing book 326-348

INTRODUCTORY.

I will herein try to give a sketch of my life. While I realize there will be some portions that will be too dark to put before the public, I will try to put enough that I trust will turn many from the ways of the world and from the power of Satan unto our God.

I have asked God for power and wisdom to enable me to give my life to the public in a way that will be an honor to him and instrumental in the salvation of souls, and make men husbands to their wives, fathers to their children, and servants to our God.

There will, no doubt, be many things in this sketch that many will criticise, and say, ' ' I would have kept that to myself;" but if you are one of those critics, my dear reader, just stop and think it is not for you, but for that other person; then let your mind run back over the past, and see if you can think of any one it hits.

I know my mistakes and wrongs have been many, yet I realize that I am not the only man that ever made them. There are very few that have salvation enough to confess them to the public.

Possibly this book will mention some individuals in a way that will make them feel offended toward me; but I will say here, I will shun all as much as I can, to bring out my rusty deeds and have respect to all men and women that were implicated in any of them, and will refrain from giving any their full names. I could sketch my life without giving the names of men and women I associated with: but while I was misled by many that were older than myself and caused to do many a mean deed and thereby to be wonderfully abused when a little orphan boy having no mother, and father would believe anything any one would tell on me; and while many told falsehoods and I was punished for it: I will say to you that are yet living, the stripes have faded away, the gashes have healed up on my back, and God has healed the wounds in my heart, and I can say, God bless and forgive you. I know some of you are living yet, or were a short time ago, and I have met some of you since I have been preaching. It was not asked for, but I will say from the bottom of my heart / forgive all. December, 1903.

Chapter I. Eaely Kecollections

Birth, Ancestry and Eelatives.— A Bad Boy and Bad Company.— First Trousers. — First Exploits.— Has to Wear a Dress.— Cousin Sue.— Uncle Johnnie Simmons.— Not a Pet.— House Catches Eire.

I was born two and one-half miles north of Cave in Rock, Hardin County, Illinois, on the 29th of September, 1856. My father, Anderson Brown, had moved from Virginia and was one of the first settlers in southern Illinois. My mother died when I was eighteen months old. My grandparents on my mother's side were from Belfast, Ireland. Their name was Radcliffe. My grandparents on my father's side were from Scotland.

When I was very small I have a faint recollection of seeing my aunt moving to my father's house after my mother's death. My uncle had left her with three little children. The youngest was just nine months older than myself; her name was Sue B. Radcliffe. The other two children were by my aunt's first husband, Joseph Hammonds. The oldest of the Hammond children, Sidney Ann, went to heaven in the year 1878. The other child's name was Sarah Jane (still living in Gallatin Co., 111.). My aunt's second 11 marriage was to my mother's brother. He left her about the year I was born, went to Missouri and married another woman; reared a large family of children, and died a few years ago; also his last wife died; but his first wife (my father's sister) lives yet, and also their daughter is living, and they are at law over his estate with his son by his last wife. My cousin, now Sue B. Bonard, lives at Rockcreek, Hardin Co., 111. Her mother lives with her, and is now in her 70th year, and has never married any more.

I received a letter from my cousin, Mrs. Bonard, just before penning these lines, saying her mother is getting very feeble, and says she loves me as her own child; and I love her, for she was the nearest mother I ever knew. You will see from this short history that we had many troubles. You can also see there remains a love, and it was there all the time. Aunt was not mother, but she did the best she could for me under the surrounding circumstances, which you will see as we go along. God bless my old aunt! I love her still.

I was a bad boy and had bad company. I remember when very small I would fall down and cry until some one would come and pick me up. My father found out this kind of work was going on and he gave orders to let me lie. So I would fall down and look to see if some one was coming. Sometimes the ground would be frozen and I would lie there so

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 13

long that it would be muddy under me. Once I saw my half-sister, Mrs. Mary Moore, coming, and she did not go into the house until she came to see about me. She lifted me up, the tears running down her cheeks, and looked down in pity on mother's little son. She was a near friend of mine, and you will see that she came to my relief often.

Little boys did not dress in those days like they do now, and the hair of a motherless boy was not cut off until in a sad plight and well filled with bugs. I will try and describe my first trousers. The waist and all were made in one piece, and buttoned up the back. They were made of home-made jeans and colored with white walnut bark.

Now for my first exploits. After my trousers had begun to get old and the worse for wear, I was playing with my pup and would carry him up the hill from the cabin door where we lived, set him down and run back to the house, about fifteen steps. The pup was pretty fat as well as the boy, and when I would throw him down sometimes he would light on his back and I would get the start of him and he would not catch up until I would fall down, then the pup would grab my clothes and would almost undress me; then my chum, cousin Sue, would come to my rescue and button up my clothe®. But we would keep up the fun with the pup until the clothes got the worst of it, and my aunt noticed I did not have waist or trousers suitable to wear in company.

The next day there was a big speaking. Father said we would all go. He was informed I did not have any trousers to wear. He said that one of Sue's dresses should be put on me and he would take that pup along and give it away. All was arranged. I kept behind the old clapboard door until my father called me out to go. We got into the old tar-bucket ox-wagon, and started to Cave in Rock to the speaking, taking the last trip with the pup.

We arrived at the appointed place, where a large crowd had already assembled, and I woke up to the fact that I was a great big boy with my cousin's red calico dress on. After Father was called upon to assist I was pulled out of the wagon. My aunt took me by one hand and my cousin by the other, and I advanced toward the crowd. Such a sight now would be noticed like a street parade. After the speaking was over and I had been called a girl until I could scarcely look up, I was notified that father was taking my dog off. I looked up and saw him deposited into the care of another man. It is enough to say I felt as if I was broken up, and would have cried as loud as any boy would in those days, of the same age I was, but I knew if I did father would have whipped, not the red dress, but the boy, right there before everybody. I crawled into the wagon, laid down in the fodder, and as soon as I could forget my trouble I was asleep. I did not know any-

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 15

thing more about the conversation until I was wakened by screams ; found the family, ox-wagon and all in the middle of a big pond of water; the wagon-bed was full of water and the oxen swimming. It was a very large pond and we were in the middle of it, the bed about to float off the wagon. The people that lived near the pond came to our relief. Their name was Rutledge. Some of the family are living yet— Mrs. A. Dutton, Hester, 111. ; Vol Rutledge, Eldorado, 111.; Eps Rutledge, Portageville, Mo., and others whose whereabouts I do not know. However, they could do nothing but stand and watch the results of going by a pond with a load of people drawn by a pair of oxen on a hot day. But we made a good landing, as it was a good bank. We were welcome visitors to the Rutledge family, as they were good people. They took us all into the house where a good dinner and dry clothing was provided for us all. After dinner my cousin's red dress was dried the same as the other clothing; the oxen were rested, and I redressed and we returned home.

I had a great many acquaintances and playmates and a brother, but my double cousin Sue Radcliffe and I were near the same age and we always shared each other's troubles. It seems strange to write of my boyhood exploits, which seem like they happened a few days ago. Now my son Anderson Brown, eleven years old, comes in with a letter from my cousin Sue. who states that she will leave her home in Hardin Co., HI., seven miles back of Elizabethtown, for my home in Hickman, Ky., to spend my 45th birthday with me and family, which will be the 29th of this month— next Sunday. Her letter reads:—

Hickman, Ky.

Dear Cousin:— I received your letter yesterday and will leave here next Tuesday, if God is willing, and take the train at Paducah for Hickman. If there should be any delay I will wire you. It pleases me better to meet you at your own home, for there I can be with the whole family. I want to see every one. God bless and keep you until I come.

We are all well. I will answer the rest in person. Yours,

Mrs. S. B. Bonard.

So strange ! Forty years but a week !

My father was a great man to talk. He would go to old uncle Johnnie Simmon's, a good old man that lived at the top of the bluff that we lived at the foot of, and talk sometimes in the winter until after midnight. They were good people (old-time Carolinians), and brother George and I would often go up there with father, and stay until he would talk all the Simmons family to sleep. Then he would rouse us up and start for home, about half a mile down a rocky hill, buoyed up by promises from

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 17

father that we might catch a possum, as we passed a grove of persimmon trees on the way, and so we did often; but all the promises did not keep me from falling down. After I was a great big boy, calling on the girls, father would tell that he raised me on my abdomen between our house and Mr. Simmons'. Mr. Simmons and his good old companion, who was so much like a mother to me, have gone across the river of death, also their sons James and William and daughter Myrun are gone. Jerry, I am told, is at the Soldiers' Home in Illinois. Their daughter Jane, who is now the wife of Solomon Davis, lives near Cave in Rock, 111., near where she was born. Very few old patriarchs are yet living that lived there forty years ago, and but few of my schoolmates. As I pass through the country and see the ground cleared, distances that seemed so long when a child, seem but short distances now.

As you will see before we get through this sketch, my father was not much of a man to pet his children, but seemed to want to put an old man's head on a boy's shoulders. I have before stated that he would take me to the neighbors with him, and I thought I ought to go all the time. I remember one day he was saddling his horse for a journey. I got ready to go. Father mounted his horse and rode away. I raised a row, and he went out of sight. I thought I had a good chance to take a cry, but to my great astonishment I heard a noise, and on looking up saw my father coming back. I was not certain whether he was coming after me or not, but was certain he had business with me, but whether it was for me to go with him or not I did not know. About the time he dismounted and I saw the dogwood limb in his hand I was satisfied there was trouble just ahead. I remember we had just had a fire that came near burning all the family up that were at home. I had lost one of my shoes and had on one of grandmother's old ones, and I felt that my only friend had turned against me, also knew how a dogwood limb felt applied by a mad father. This is just the beginning, as you will soon see. When he had completed the job and made me promise I would not cry after him any more, he mounted the horse and left a poor little motherless boy with a smarting back and a bleeding heart, afraid to see night come, afraid the house would catch on fire again and we would all be burned up.

My reasons for being afraid were that I had heard ghost, witch, and robber stories. Our house had just caught fire the night before and father was not at home. It was a miracle how God saved us. We children had carried a lot of sugar tree limbs and laid them in a corner of our old log-cabin, which was ceiled overhead with four-foot boards, riven out with a frow, and the cracks of the cabin were daubed with mud, and boards were nailed over them. The single-barreled shotgun was just over the kindling

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 19

and a little trunk sat near it. The kindling caught fire, and soon the boards on the wall were blazing. The flames ran up and around the gun, burning the stock in two at the breech. The gun fell and fired, which woke my aunt The sad sight was her mother in bed asleep, partially paralyzed, unable to help herself, and five sleeping children, all in the old log-cabin, and it on fire, with no one to do anything but my aunt. She looked at the trunk, saw it was on fire, and knowing there was a powder-horn inside with a quarter of a pound of powder in it, she ran and snatched the horn out from the burning books and papers, and threw it into a bucket of water; then began to get grandmother and the children out. She put all to carrying water that could, and she fought fire (certainly in the name of Jesus) and accomplished the most wonderful victory I have ever known in putting out a burning building. When the fire was out and the powder-horn examined, the wooden plug in the end of the horn was burned to a coal and fell out when handled. It was the mercies of God. If the gun had not fired in one minute longer the powder would have exploded and the whole family would have woke up in eternity.

Father came home the next morning. I was the first to meet him and told him in a whisper what had happened. Although aunt had told me it was caused by our carelessness, I could not help but believe some one had fired the house, trying to kill father for his money. I had been told his life was in danger.

Chapter II. Boyhood Days

First Steps to Infidelity.— Frequently Whipped.— Prayer Not Answered. — Baptizing Sheep.— Playing at Deer Hunting. — Shot with an Arrow.— George's Abuse.— Cruelty of Father. — Forced to Lie. — Steals Father's Sugar.— Playhouse Upset.— Works in Field.— George in a Fight.— Plenty of Widows.

I do not want to worry your patience with my boyhood days, but you will see before you get through this book I am giving you the first steps to infidelity. As you read on you will see my father was a moral man. I never saw him drunk and never heard him use profane language. He never made any profession of salvation, but was a strict freemason. My aunt was a Baptist and had seasons of rejoicing, but at other times you would not have taken her to be a professor, and would have had to look on the church-book for her name, yet in that day aunt was considered a good Christian woman and a good neighbor; father a good man and a good citizen. But I see they both made mistakes in raising their children. They did enough whipping, as you will see, and you will no doubt think I exaggerate in some of my statements. My aunt lives yet at Rockcreek, 111., and I trust will live to read this book and state to the public whether true. Besides there are a few others 21 that still live and are acquainted with me and my raising. It was father's rule if aunt had to whip me when he was gone, he would whip me when he returned, except when I would gain the sympathy of aunt, and she would insist she had whipped me enough.

I would hear people talk about my mother and what a good woman she was. My half-sister Mary would put her arms around her mother's baby boy and give me the idea that if mother had lived I would have had a better time. These things made me want to see mother. One time after I had received what I termed cruel treatment, I went up into the woods under the bluff, just at dark, and got on my knees and asked God to send mother there so I could tell her how I had been whipped. I staid there until quite dark, and what was so peculiar about it, I was so afraid after dark. But I had seen my aunt on her knees, and my older cousin had told me she was praying to God and God would give her what she asked for. So I tried it and failed— lost confidence in prayer. God knew what was best for me, yet I was inclined to preach, and when other children came to play with us we would have meeting and I would be the preacher. At another time one of our neighbors, named Norris, had a big gang of sheep that bothered about our place. Brother George caught several of them one day after we had been to baptizing, and took them near a pool of water that was about waist deep. I preached, then my brother helped me and we would hold the sheep up on their hind feet and walk them in the water. I would say the ceremony that I heard the preacher say, and we would baptize them, lead them out and tie them up until we got them all baptized. Then we had a falling out like the rest of the preachers and church-members. We tied them together by twos with bark and set our dog on them and started them through the woods to their home. Some of them hung up in the woods and staid there until Mrs. Norris found them. But this cruel treatment did not keep them away. Afterwards we turned them in a field of cockle-burs, and they staid there for weeks before they were found. When they were brought out you could not tell what they were by the color, and they could scarcely walk. Of course we denied putting them in the field, and people could not prove it, but the sheep never bothered any more.

In my boyhood days there were a great many deer in that country, and the Wilson brothers would come over from Kentucky and camp and make deer drives. Some would take the hounds and drive and others would stand with gun when the deer would pass, and shoot the deer as the hounds would run them through. My brother being two years older than myself knew more about deer hunting than I did. We had by this time got us another pup and trained him to take our track and hunt us up. Brother proposed to me that we would go out in the orchard in the weeds where the stock had made paths through and have a deer hunt. He had made a crossbow, a piece of a plank cut out in shape of a gun, which would shoot an arrow almost like a bullet. So he had me to be the deer and he stood on the crossing. So I started ; he put the pup on my track and I ran through the weeds a while, and ran through the crossing where my brother was stationed, anxious to try his crossbow. As I galloped through he pulled the trigger and down came the game. It was not a deer, but a boy. The arrow struck me in the temple and stuck in about an inch. I screamed; my brother ran up and pulled the arrow out of my head, and the blood flowed freely. It scared me nearly to death. He made me several promises, trying to get me to hush, but it looked too much like a dead boy for me to hush. He would raise me to my feet; I would fall and scream the louder. The alarm reached the house. Sister Mary had just come ; she knew I was in trouble. She came running, but my brother was off in the weeds. She saw the blood and the hole in my head as large as her finger. She did not know how deep it was, and I didn't have sense enough to tell her what had happened, and my brother was not there to tell. I was carried to the house and my wound was dressed. I gave the state of affairs; my brother was convicted by the family and sentence was passed on him, which was worse than ten days in the workshop, that was to tell father. He knew what was next. I knew I had to keep shy of him or he would make me tell father a lie when he came, or give me another round. So I was kept in. Father came and the case was laid before him. My brother was called and there was no further trial. His clothes were taken off and the penalty enforced, which covered his back with stripes and gashes. He did not whip the clothes, he whipped the boy.

In the course of two or three days I got off my guard. My head had got better and I had cried over brother's whipping as much as he had, for I didn't want him whipped for anything he would do to me. He had my sympathy and got me out to the barn. We were having a good time talking. I had forgotten the past, but he had not. As we stood under the shed by the log barn, he looked at me and said, "What made you tell on me and get me whipped V He then grabbed me by the hair of the head and landed me against the barn. The bark was peeled off the logs and there was a little knot on the log, which stuck in my head opposite the other wound. I was scared. As before, he tried to make me hush, but I cried the louder. The alarm reached the house; my other wound was dressed; brother tried, and found guilty. When father came home he gave another punishment. The scar still shows on my head and looks as though I had been shot through the head. I knew the time would soon come that

I would have to take more abuse, for he was mad at me for telling the truth about the trouble. He would hurt me very bad some times trying some project, and would threaten me and make me tell a story about it. I loved him better than myself. You will see before we get through that my father was very cruel and would give as severe a whipping for a little offense as a big one, and this caused me to tell many a story to shun my brother. When one got a whipping the other got it, too, if he were not hurt too bad.