A few days after, the Rev. Mr. J---- requested me to visit the town of S----, where he occasionally preached, and had made an appointment for me to address the people at night, preparatory to visiting all the families. He gave me a letter of introduction to one of his members, who lived a mile from the village, and who he expected would go with me. I came to his house near dark, almost frozen. He received me very coldly, and neither offered me food or company. I inquired the way to town, and soon left.
The night was dark, the snow deep, the cold intense, and I was an entire stranger in the place. As I rode along the street, every door and window was shut, till I came to a store. I tied my horse and stepped in, and found a large, fine-looking man sitting by the stove alone. By asking a few questions, I learned it was Mr. S----, the proprietor of the town. I told him I was glad to make his acquaintance. That I had come there at the request of the Rev. Mr. J----, to hold a meeting that night, and to spend a few days visiting his people and supplying them with good religious books, and I would be glad to have his counsel and advice as to the best way to do it.
Said he, “It depends very much, sir, on the kind of religious books you want to circulate here. I suppose you have the Confession of Faith of the Presbyterian church among them, and I can prove that it is full of falsehoods; and more than that, I want you to know, sir, that I have made a promise to kick out of my house every man that comes in it that has graduated at Jefferson College, and studied theology at the Western Seminary.” As he closed the sentence, he stood up before me, as if he was going to make good his promise. I requested him to wait till I should explain my object. I told him I had no Confessions of Faith, nor any denominational books; that they were all the books of the American Tract Society, and approved by nearly all evangelical Christians, and consequently not sectarian. And as to the other objection, I had never graduated either at Jefferson College or the Western Theological Seminary, consequently he was barking up the wrong tree. “Why,” said he, “are you not a Presbyterian preacher?” “No, sir,” said I, “I have not the honor to be a preacher.” He turned instantly and walked out, leaving me alone.
