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D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


PRBSENTKD  BY 
THK  AUTHOR 


iiyGoot^lc 


.HSl, 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


MBiGooi^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


WIl.l.IAU  E.  HATCHRH 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


V:'ILL1AM  E.  HATCI  ii  K 

D.  D„  LL  D.,  L  H.  l> 


A  BIOGRAPHY 


BY  HIS  SON 
ELDRIDCE  B.  HATCHER 


r  C.  HiLi PUHnini On.,  RmwifD.  V> . 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


William  e.  Hatcher 

D.  D,  LL  D,  L  H  D. 


A  BIOGRAPHY 


BY  HIS  SON 
ELDRIDGE  B.  HATCHER 


V.  C.  Bu  Pmnne  Ob.,1 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


TOUT  WIfB 

ANNA  DENSON  HATCHER 

WHO  BT  BXR  HOPKrOL  INTSBEffT  AND  COOPBRATION 

IN  HT  WOBE  or  warnNQ  this  biooraph; 

OBEATLT  CHSEB8D  ME  IN  Hr  UBOSS 


-t  D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


FOREWORD 


This  book  aims  to  give  a  picture  of  a  aoul.  It  vill  dissfipoint 
thoee  who  aie  seeking  a  chromcle  of  all  the  travels,  acts  and 
words  of  William  E.  Hatcher;  but  to  thoee  who  deare  to  view 
the  man  behind  the  deeds  it  opeDs  its  pages.  It  is  the  portrait 
of  a  -penoa  rather  than  the  record  of  a  career.  The  richeet 
treasures  in  human  lives  are  hidden  beneath  the  surface,  and 
few  things  are  more  interesting  than  the  trtuts  and  character- 
istics, the  struggles  and  triumphs  of  a  soul.  The  author  has 
endeavored  to  select  thoee  incidents  from  the  life  of  William 
E.  Hatcher  which  flash  light  upon  his  unique  personality  and 
unveil  him  to  the  reader. 

Events  apparently  trivial  often  make  startling  revelations. 
Plutarch,  in  his  Life  of  Alexander  the  Great,  says: 

"It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  my  design  is  not  to  write 
historiee  but  lives.  And  the  most  glorious  exploits  do  not 
always  furnish  us  with  the  clearest  discoveries  of  virtues  or 
vices  in  mesi;  sometimes  a  matter  of  less  moment,  an  oc- 
preesion  or  a  jest,  informs  us  better  of  their  characters  and 
inclinations,  than  the  most  famous  sieges,  the  greatest  arma- 
ments, or  the  bloodiest  battles  whatsoever." 


298465 

D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


To  the  many  friends  who  have  sent  letters  and  aneodotee 
for  use  in  tins  volume  the  author  begs  leave  here  to  return  hia 
hearty  thanks.  From  Dr.  Hatcher's  own  booka,  "Life  of  J.  B. 
Jeter,"  "The  Pastor  and  the  Sunday  School,"  "John  Jasper," 
and  "Along  the  Trail  of  the  Friendly  Years,"  he  has  made 
many  quotaticms.  Fnnn  The  Rdigioua  Herald  and  the  Di»- 
patch  of  Richmond,  Va.,  and  the  Baptiet  World  of  Louisville, 
Ky.,  he  has  made  copious  extracts.  He  has  also  quoted  from 
the  (Standard  of  Chicago,  the  BapHat  Courier  of  South  Caro- 
lina and  posmbly  other  papers  and  of  them  he  wishes  here 
to  make  grateful  mention. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I. 


AlHXaTBY  AMD  CmiJ>B0OS 1-11 

CHAPTER  II. 
1&1S-1864. 

SCBOCO.  DaTB    and   CoNVKBSION.— TEACmNQ  SCBOOL.— DicmioM 

ToPmucB 12-18 

CHAPTER  III. 


Four  Ykabs  AT  RicHiioin)  Ccufoi 19-29 

CHAPTER  IV. 

185S-1861. 

Fnta  Ykah  or  Manchestir  Pastorate 30-39 

CHAPTER  V. 

1861-1866. 

Tbb  Crm.  War. — Marriage. — Revival  Exfxribnos    .     .    .       4(Mil 

CHAPTER  TI. 

1866-1867. 

Thr  Stboogle  LmxfiS 62-60 

CHAPTER  VII. 

1897-1868. 

BAumtoBB  Pastorate.— Lecfurk  on  the  Damcb 70-76 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
1868-1872. 
Petersbcro.~Prrsi8tent  Dsni.  in  Seruom  Making  and  in 
InsRABT  CoKPOsmoH.— Inisbbbt  ih  Bots 77-88 

CHAPTER  IX. 
U72-1876. 
Thb  Mmmcooai  MoTRUKiR.'-TaE  AmbvulSce  Cokpb.— Vkclk 
Saivta's  Vibtt.— Tb»  Botb'  Mxrino SB-lOl 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  X. 
1876-1876. 
Richmond.— fiiCHUOMD  Coumoe  Addrbbb. — Botb'   HeniMa.— 
DiALoacBB :    102-112 

CHAPTER  XI. 

1876-1877. 

AMTTBiNaPDurrExFUiiBKCXS.— HcHORAMD  Wit 113-121 

CHAPTER  XII. 
1877-^1878. 
Imtbbest  in  Youno  PweACHBaa.— Pasiokal  VrairiHa.— Cabbtdii- 
MESs  IN  PaxPAvinQ  PoBuc  Addbxssss.— Dailt  Schkdulk    .    12thl37 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
1S76-18S0. 
Bai/tdiosi  Visit.  —  Fokdnebb     for     Gamxb.— Hospitautt.— 
Addhxss  on  Db.  Jctsb 138-151 

CHAPTER  XIV. 


RiPARTBB. — Call   to   Lohsville 162-163 

CHAPTER  XV. 
18S1. 

HiB    SuHDATB. — PRXACBUfQ. — Pttblic    Pravxbb 164-173 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
1882. 
Editob    Rxuqioub    Hebaij). — In    thb    Sociai.    Cistxx. — Teb 
Cakavan,— The  Baptistb 174-184 

CHAPTER  XVII. 


Pastobal  Vibitb  and  Pastokal   Ezpbbe?«7eb. — Tbd  to  Tsxab 
AND  Mejoco.— Dkath  or  thb  Twins.— The  Cabatan    .    .    .186-194 
CHAPTER  XVIII. 
I8S3. 
Cottaob  roB  CouNTBT  Pabtob.-^A  Cnr  Pabtoratb.— Conven- 
tion AT  Baiatmobb.— On  thb  Wing. — "Alono  thB  Baftot 
liHBB" 196-2U 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XIX. 


-D.  L.  MooDT.— ViBira  to  thb  Cohntbi.— Gbahleb 
H.  Phatt.— AmiNO  Simmma .206-319 

CHAPTER  XX. 

1886-1886. 
Edttokul    CoRBBSPOKDENca.— CuLPiPEB    Mkktinos.— Wbxklt 
I^miifl.^YoDKO  Men  in  His  Hohb.— Lbciubb  Tbips.— The 
Fbibkd  or  CouHTBT  Chubches 220-233 

CHAPTER  XXI. 


Chubcb  Tboublxs. — CouxcnoN  in  His  Chubch.— Tsb  Cele- 
BBARD  Cl Huu«R  Case 234-2S3 

CBAFTESXXII. 
1887. 
Air  EvBHTTDi.  Fkater  Mebtino.— Sbvbbal  Weeks'   Revival 
CAMFAiflN.— CoBBECHNa  HiB  Ohildrbn's   Dicnotr.— 3uxdat 
ScBBDVLB.— "Lm  or  j.  B.  Jsteb" 263-266 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
1887-1888. 
LoTE  lOR  Bediobd. — "LiFB  (»  J.  B.  Jbter"  Cbiticubd.— Dbivino 
Ovbb  the  Bov.— GENinHEKESS.— Obkhnautt 267-279 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 


Trip  to  Eubofb. — Pbebidxnt  or  the  Ginebal  Absociation. — 
BApnsT  CoHaBEBs 280-393 

CHAPTER  XX\'. 
188». 
Church  Dedications.— Taxino  CoujccnoNS.— Cokvbmtiom  at 
Memphis. — iNnuENCE  in  Southern  Baptdit  Cohvbmtion. — 
The   Chestkbpiels  Meetimo 303-906 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
1889-1891. 
TiUFe    10    CBEffrEBnxLD.— Pbacettl  SoLtmoM    or    Cbiircb 
Tbocbisb.  —  EonoRLU.     durtciBUB.  —  New     BmunMO.  — 
Intkbxbt  in  Plain  Peoplx.— PnriNa  Hoxos  Upon  OrHxsa.— 
KiNDMISa  TO  YODNO  PitEACBKBS 307-32S 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
1891-1892. 
EmcBiNQ  New  BuiLDiNa.— Hcinurr,— Bkokin  Fexendbbip. — 
Wake  Forest  Revival. — CHEaTEHFiELD.— His  New  Bor    .    .    326-345 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


Flatino  Quoits  . — "Uncle  David"  . — The  Youno  Fmoplm  . — 
BxRiioM  Bbore  Sotithehn  Baptist  Contention. — Dedicatioiv 
or  TBB  New  Ghace  Stkebt  Church  BmLDiNO.— Moodt  Meet- 
iNoa 346-364 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
1894-1896. 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  CoujcnoN.— Eaogrness  to  Win. — Christian  Union. 
— Richmond  Coluob. — Topical  Notes. — Pdbchabb  or  Howe 
AT  Fork  Union.— Chicago  Address 366-378 

CHAPTER  XXX. 


A  Shockino  Disaster. — Arduous  Buiu>iMa  Caupaiok. — Revival 
Mebtino  in  Granville,  Obio 379-398 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
1897. 
Address  ON  THE  "£xFKRiiiZNTAi.£TiDBNCE8  0FCHBisTiANTnt". — 
TsouQHTf-ULNXBS  OP  Othebs.— Varibd  Journeys  and  Lasobs. 
—Revival  Meeiinqs  at  Toudo,  Ohio.— Exaltation  or  the 
Supernatural 399-413 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
1898. 
Dr.  C.  C.  Meador.— The  WHTTsnr  Controterbt.- The  Bai^ 
Tiers 414-433 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XXXin. 
IBSS-1900. 
Puams  KM  iMPBOTraxHT.— Fbkac&ebb'  Hocu  Pabtt.— Fork 
Unas  AcuuMY  Stakikd.— Sickness.— Tbb  Kovxl.— Vabud 
LuoM 434-451 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
1900-1902. 

Hn  Cmmei  Bor.— Colbman  M .— DuticjvnoN  or  Bia  New 

BniLiUMO.— AccEPTANCZ  or  THK  RicHuoKD  CoLLEGB  Cau..— 
BiBiaitA'noiT. — Eddcational  Work. — Lettkbb  to  Chiij>sem. — 
BocxOTUXB  Cakpaiok 452-497 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 


HlB  GSANDCHILDBBK.—  SUNDAI  SCHOOL  LBCrniua.— VlBBATIUTT. 

— Thf  Cahpaion  roR  Bmbtol.— CewBniAo  RaninoN.— Pati- 
VNCsWiTHEtoTS.— Saq(tJosefb,Mo.— EDrroaiAi,PAiiA<a&AFHB  468-486 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
1903-1905. 
Wkloohino  GsANDrATHKR. — CouNTBT  Pwarix. — Thk  Louistiuji 
SnoKABT. — TBiauTEs   to   Dbs.   McI>dnau>  akd  Mbadok. — 
CouMcwtov  roB  TBB  SsinMABT.— CoNvaNTioN  at  Kansas  Cttt    487-600 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
1905-1907. 
iMTBODDcnio  Nbw  Pabtobb  .— Acadbut  Oxxaos.— Rblahom  to 
XHB     AcADBHT. — DiBA^«iNTiixNT8. — Old     Aob, — Stbekuoos 
AcnviTi. — Wbiohtes  Witb  Mant  Bukdems. — Battuho  With 

601-617 

CHAPTER  XXJiyill. 
1907. 
Wbitiho   His  New   Book. — Biogbapbt.— Ox/Oatx 
X«croBB8.— DBUKXATiifa    Cbabactbs.— WoBXiNa    at    Hior 
Pbusubb. — AsDBEse  AT  Indianapoub  on  "Thi  Makino  or 
THB   Akbrican   QBNiuniAH" 518-636 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
1908. 
ftbRDfOB  tx  EnTAv  Placb,  Baltdiobx;  Fkahxun  Coujua, 
Jjn>.;  Tbehont  Texpu,  Boston,  and  Gmxiatb  Univebbitt, 
N.  Y. — CONVENTION  AT  Hot  Spbinos.— Varded  Aerrmaa. — 
Railroad  Aocidbnt.— "John  Jabpbb" S87-600 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


xii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XL. 
1908-1909. 
With  thk  Academy  Boys.— Thx  Acadeut  and  thb  CoioftnnTT.— 
Characteb    Traihino.— "Gkacb    Stbbzt"    Annitkbsakt.— 
RxMunecENCxs .-^Manifold  Tbifb  and  Labors.— Ah  Foko'b 

GbADDATION.— MONUKBNM. — A  PERSONAL  SERHON.—PliBSONAL 

CHARACTKRiancs 661-S86 

CHAPTER  XLI. 
ISIO. 
fo'BiouB  SiCKNzsa  AT  Fort  Wayxe,  Ins. — Article  on  "Tbe 
Grippe". — Clothes. — I^nxR  to  Dr.  C.  H.  Ryland. — Skucf- 
IHO  THE  Title.— "Aix>NO  thk  Trail  op  the  Friendly  Ybabs".— 
Mjcsbaoeb  Aboot  Hib  Nbw  Book 686-611 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
1910-1911. 
Gaueb  With  the  Grandchildiibn. — Continttxd  Tbibtites  to  hib 
Book. — Interebt  in  People. — Cacoht  in  a  Hotel  Fire. — 
blukfiei.d 612-640 

CHAPTER  XUII. 
1911. 
CoNTiNTouB  AciTvniEa. — Meetingb  at  Pocomoxe. — Address  at 
Meredith  Coileoe. — Baptist  World  Alliance. — Corrbbfond- 
ENCE. — His  ENEmafi.— Baltdiore  Statx  Mibbion  Banqcbt.— 
Addbebb  Bkfobe  Couxoe  Trdsizeb.— Opmaeu.— Old  Aos  .  641-666 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 
1912. 
Labors  in  Flobida. — Campaign  fob  the  Oranobburo  School.— 
Farewell  Mebtino  With  Ah  Fono.— Labors  in  South  Caro- 
lina .-Working  While  it  is  Day.— His  Portrait  Unveiud    .  667-484 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
1912. 
Bust  Hire  and  Tbebb.— Address  at  Judoe  Witt's  Funeral. — 
Thb  Gbandchildrbh.~-A  Crowded  Wixk. — Hafpt  Days  at 
Cabeby.- The  End 686-696 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

WnuAM  E.  Hatcher.    Fmtispiece 

Carkbt  Chubcb,  Eiiai.AND,  where  are  the  tombs  of  the  Hatcher 

family  of  the  16th  Century 4 

Tbk  BiBTHEi^oE  AND  BoTHOOD  HouK  OF  WajJAM  E.  Hatches    .    .  6 

WauAM  E.  Hatchsr,  at  age  of  30 62 

Mas.  Woxiiii  E.  Hatcheb 78 

WiluahE.  Hatchbb,  stageof  aboutSS 88 

The  Grack  Sraiacr  Baftibt  Church,  Richuond,  Va 102 

Tsa  RicBitoND  HOHB,  608  W.  Grace  Street        146 

WuLUM  E.  Haichrh 308 

The  Kew  Grace  Street  BAPnar  CHimcH 326 

The  Grace  Street  Baftibt  Chcrch,  after  the  fire 382 

WiujAU  E.  Hatcher 434 

Grace  Street  Baptist  Chcrch  Rebuilt 438 

Grandfather  and  Viroinia 440 

GBAMDFATOZa  AND  WiLLIAU 466 

Carebt  Hail,  the  Fork  Union  Hokk 482 

William  E.  Hatcher 4S4 

WiuJAM  E.  Hatcheb 524 

At  the  Albemarlk  Asbocution 680 

Grakdfatheb  and  Anna S92 

Fork  Union  Miutart  Acadehi 618 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


ANCESTRT  AND  CHILDHOOD 

1834-184S 

"William,  are  you  very  fond  of  sweet  potatoes?"  asked  the 
father. 

"Yes." 

"Come,  let's  go  out  to  the  patch  and  see  how  they  are 
getting  along."  TUb  invitation  to  the  potato  patch  was  given 
by  an  old  farmer,  Mr.  Henry  Hatcher,  to  his  thirteen  year  old 
hoy,  William  E.,  about  sixty-seven  years  ago  at  their  moun- 
tain home  in  Bedford  County,  Va.  WilHam  had  seemed 
reluctant  to  doing  any  work  on  the  farm  and  his  father  was 
seeking  to  cure  him  of  his  apparent  laziness. 

They  reached  the  patch  and  the  father  began  to  pull  up  the 
weeds  from  around  the  vines,  and  in  a  few  momenta  he  called 
out  in  a  bright  tone:  "William,  come  and  help  me  get  this 
grass  out  of  the  way." 

William  joined  in  the  grass  pulling  but  in  no  happy  mood 
and  BOOD  be  said  to  his  father  in  a  determined  manner: 

"I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  God  does  not  intend 
for  me  to  work  in  the  dirt." 

The  words  cut  the  father  as  with  a  knife.  Without  losing 
his  temper  and  with  a  gentle  touch  of  satire  he  sorrowfully 
replied:  "I  begin  to  think,  my  son,  that  that  is  true  and  I 
have  been  studying  why  God  made  you  at  all  and  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  created  you  to  starve  as  a  warning 
for  all  idle  boys  that  may  come  on  later." 

"No;  I  hope  not,"  said  William.  "I  hope  that  I  will  always 
have  enough  to  eat,  but  I  do  not  think  that  I  will  have  to  dig 
it  out  of  the  ground." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


2  ANCESTRY 

A  Bhadow  passed  across  the  old  man's  face  and  he  said  no 
more.  This  positive — almost  rebellious — speech  of  the  boy 
was  the  outcropping  of  a  trait  that  dwelt  also  in  the  father,  for 
we  are  told  that  the  old  gentleman  "had  a  will  and  a  way  of  his 
own"  and  that  while  his  spirit  was  not  stonny,  nor  harsh,  yet 
when  he  said  a  thing  "all  interrogation  points  were  taken 
down  and  the  thing  was  settled." 

In  fact,  this  spirit  of  protest  which  we  find  in  William  at 
the  potato  patch,  seems  to  have  traveled  down  to  him  from 
his  ancestors  through  several  generations;  for  in  1652  we  find 
it  breaking  out  in  another  William  Hatcher  in  the  Virginia 
House  of  Bui^eases.  This  William  Hatcher  arose  one  day  and 
withstood  the  Speaker  of  the  House  to  his  face  by  exclaiming: 
"The  mouth  of  this  house  is  an  atheist,  a  blasphemer  and  a 
devil!"  For  this  inflammatory  mduigence,  Mr.  Hatcher  was 
forced  to  apologize  to  the  Speaker  and,  after  payii^  a  heavy 
fine,  was  dismissed.  But  he  was  evidently  an  important 
factor  in  the  public  councils  of  the  Colony,  for  he  was  after- 
wards re-elected  and  served  as  a  member  at  two  later  sessions. 

This  defiant  old  progenitor  was  the  fir^t  of  the  Hatchers  to 
set  foot  on  American  soil  and  was  styled  "William  the  Emi- 
grant." He  was  once  presented  by  the  grand  jury  for  not 
attending  the  services  of  the  established  church, — such  at- 
tendance at  that  time  being  required  by  the  mother  country. 
If,  as  Sacred  Writ  informs  us,  man  is  bom  to  trouble  as  the 
sparks  fly  upward,  no  less  did  this  Mr.  William  Hatcher  seem 
bom  for  conflict  with  the  existing  order.  "Every  great  man 
is  a  non-conformist"  says  Emerson  and  while  we  are  not  pre- 
pared to  claim  for  Air.  Hatcher  a  place  among  the  great,  we 
can  safely  pronounce  him  a  non-conformist. 

When  next  we  hear  of  him  he  is  involved  in  the  famous 
"Bacon's  ReI)ellion,"  which  was  aimed  at  the  English  govern- 
ment, and  which  was  called  by  the  historian  Bancroft,  "the 
early  harbinger  of  American  Nationality."  This  uprising 
occurred  on  the  neck  of  lan<l  on  which  Mr.  William  Hatcher 
bved.    In  that  movement  he  was  an  active  factor,  and  for 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ANCESTRY  3 

the  pleasure  of  indulge  his  revolutionary  tendences  he  was 
commauded  to  pay  ten  thousand  pounds  of  tobacco.  But 
mercy  interposed — because  of  Mr.  Hatcher's  age — and  he  was 
let  down  to  a  lower  figure  and  hogs  were  substituted  for  to- 
bacco,— the  fine  being  8,000  pounds  of  pork,  which  he  was  to 
furnish  to  "His  Majesty's  soldiers."  When  this  writer  recalls 
the  av^^on  to  swine  meat  which  clung  to  the  WiUiam  E. 
Hatcher  who  is  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  he  begins  to  wtmder 
if  William  did  not  recave  from  his  rugged  old  forefather  some- 
thmg  else  besides  his  defiant,  independent  spirit. 

It  is  said  that  "every  individual  is  an  omnibus  in  which  all 
his  ancestors  ride."  We  can  not  call  the  roll  of  all  the  forbeais 
of  the  youthful  William -^d  yet  it  is  fitting  that  we  at  least 
take  note  of  his  distinguished  lineage.  Many  people  shy  off 
from  genealogies  and  we  do  not  forget  the  saying  of  the  old 
philosopher,  Fiiaedms,  many  centuries  ago,  that  "it  ia  indeed 
a  glorious  thing  to  be  well  descended,  but  the  glory  belongs 
to  our  ancestors."  It  is  no  wish  of  this  writer  to  deck  the 
youthful  Wilham  in  glory  borrowed  from  his  progenit(H«;  and 
yet  it  is  well  that  we  turn  our  gaze  towards  those  whose  blood, 
several  centuries  afterwards,  traveled  in  his  vcdua. 

The  home  of  the  Hatchers  in  Ei^laud  was  at  Careby  in 
Linc(^nshire,  and  inscriptions  on  the  quaint  tombs  in  the 
Careby  Churchyard  and  the  records  in  the  community  testify 
to  the  high  rank  held  by  the  Hatchers  as  early  as  the  16th 
centuiy.  On  one  of  the  tombs  we  find  this  inscription,  dat«d 
1564: 

"Here  is  interred  the  raoaina  of  Sir Hatcher  of  the 

andent  family  of  Hatchera,  for  many  generations  the  lords  of 
this  manor." 

Some  of  the  Hatchers  foi^ht  in  Cromwell's  army, — among 
theax  Sir  Thomas  Hatcher,  a  member  of  Parliamrait,  who 
because  of  his  championship  of  Cromwell's  cause  was  included 
in  the  list  of  "traitors"  mentioned  in  Newcastles'  Proclama- 
tioD  of  the  17th  of  January,  1643.  This  same  Sir  Thomas 
Hatcher  was,  with  Sir  Harry  Vane,  and  other  CommissionerB 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


4  CHILDHOOD 

seat  to  Scotland  "to  treat  of  a  nearer  unicm  and  confederacy 
with  the  Scottish  nation  and  to  help  frame  the  famouB  Solemn 
League  and  Covotant,  which  was  adopted  by  Parliament 
Sept.  17th,  1640."  But  we  are  now  getting  dangerously  near 
to  rulera,  and  if  we  become  entangled  in  such  high  places  we 
might  be  tompted  to  forget  the  little  mountain  lad  in  Bedford, 
who  must  henceforth — for  us — ^hold  the  center  of  the  stage. 
The  journey  back  from  Careby  England,  to  Bedford  County, 
Vi^pnia,  however,  is  a  long  one  and  in  returning  to  the  boy 
William  let  us  pause  at  William's  grandfather,  Jeremiah 
Hatoher,  for  he  possessed  two  shining  traito  which  seem  to 
have  found  their  way  into  William's  soul.  One  was  a  passion 
for  preaching  and  the  other  was  a  passion  for  helpfulness. 
This  Jeremiah  Hatcher  was  a  man  of  considerable  means  and, 
after  bdng  pastor  in  Chesterfield  County,  he  settled  in  Bedford 
and  preached  the  gospel  throughout  a  large  section  of  the 
country  without  financial  reward.  He  erected  a  church  build- 
ing at  his  own  expense  for  the  people  which  was  known  far 
and  wide  as  "Hatcher's  Meeting  House"  and  his  religious 
work,  done  simply  for  the  love  of  the  work  and  of  the  people, 
wrought  a  signal  transformation  in  that  portion  of  the  country. 

This  man  had  three  grandsons  who  became  preachers; 
William  E.  Hatcher,  Harvey  Hatcher,  and  Jeremiah  B.  Jeter, 
all  of  whom  were  bom  in  the  same  "shed  room"  at  the  (dd 
Hatcher  Homestead. 

When  William  was  four  years  old  the  brightest  star  in  his 
sky  went  out.  His  mother  died.  She  was  a  Presbyterian,  was 
"fair  and  cultured"  and  William  was  said  to  resemble  her. 
Into  her  room  that  day  they  carried  him  to  look  upon  her 
silent  form  and  next  he  remembered  going  with  the  procesmon 
out  under  the  cherry  tree  where  they  put  her  body  in  the 
ground. 

The  burial  is  over,  the  mourning  fri^ids  have  scattered  to 
their  homes, — maybe  one  or  two  put  their  hands  tenderiy  on 
the  head  of  little  William,  or  pos^bly  kissed  him  as  he  looked 
with  his  big  eyea  on  the  people  and  on  the  new  made  red  dirt 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


3| 

i 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


CHILDHOOD  S 

under  which  tbey  had  put  his  mother  and  understood  not  what 
it  meant.  When  the  little  fellow  turned  back  to  the  house  he 
dreamed  not  of  the  lonely  days  ahead  of  him.  His  mother  had 
spoit  her  last  hours  in  praying  that  he  might  become  a  preacher, 
but  she  was  gone  and  who  now  would  care  what  became  of  this 
four  year  old  motherless  boy. 

There  eits  the  father — a  ru^ed  old  farmer — fifty-four  years 
old,  but  today — ^the  day  of  the  funeral — he  looks  older  than 
ever.  Yonder  are  the  children,  three  half  brothers,  two  half 
sisters,  and  his  own  brother  Harvey,  and  all  of  them  older  than 
William.  His  father  was  not  a  profesang  christian,  but  was 
a  r^;u]ar  attendant  upon  the  church;  he  loved  his  Bible  and 
was  highly  respected  in  his  community.  He  had  one  marked 
tnut  and  that  was  his  devotion  to  his  baby  boy.  Every  night 
William  slept  in  his  father's  bed  and  in  the  day  he  was  carried 
in  his  fathers  arms.. 

The  grass  came  upaa  the  new  grave;  the  cherry  tree  grew 
older  and  the  months  and  even  the  years  moved  by,  but  while 
they  brought  many  birthdays  to  William  they  brought  him 
few  pleasures. 

One  day  old  "Father  Harris",  pastor  of  Mount  Hermon 
Church,  rode  up  to  the  home  and  spent  the  night.  On  the 
ne3rt  morning  little  William  was  sitting  by  the  window  in  the 
parlor.  Breakfast  was  announced  and  as  the  venerable  minister 
was  walking  from  the  bed  room  through  the  parlor  to  the 
dining  room  his  eye  fell  upon  the  boy  at  the  window  and  he 
noticed  that  he  was  absorbed  in  a  book.  He  turned  out  of 
bis  way,  walked  up  to  the  youthful  reader  laid  his  hand  gently 
upon  his  head  and  in  a  very  mellow,  gracious  tone  said:  "My 
boy  I  hope  God  will  call  you  to  preach  the  gospel."  Already 
William  had  been  informed  that  his  grandfathers  on  his  motber'a 
and  ott  his  father's  aide  were  both  Baptist  preachers  and  that 
his  mother  had  spent  her  last  breath  in  praying  that  God  would 
make  "William  and  Harvey"  preachers. 

An  accidfoit  hi^pened  to  William  that  left  its  life  mark  upon 
his  soul  as  well  as  upon  his  body.    Out  on  the  farm  one  day 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


6  CHILDHOOD 

they  were  cutting  stripe  of  wood — or  splits  as  they  called 
tiiem — on  which  to  hang  the  meats  and  he  was  standing  by 
looking  on. 

"Pa"  said  he  "I  want  to  see  if  I  can't  make  a  split." 

The  indulgent  old  father  handed  over  the  knife  and  wood 
and  the  boy  went  vigorously  to  work,  when  the  knife  slipped 
and  buried  itself  in  his  toider  hand.  A  few  days  after  that 
his  sister  Margaret  set  out  on  a  winter's  day  on  a  visit  to  her 
married  sister,  fifteen  miles  distant,  and  WilUam  was  mounted 
upon  a  second  horse  to  accomp'any  her  and  bring  her  horse 
back.  All  went  well  on  the  outward  journey.  On  the  return 
however,  he  had  to  lead  the  other  horse;  the  cut  place  on  his 
hand  pulled  open  and  he  caught  cold  in  the  hand  and  for 
nearly  fifteen  miles  the  pain  increased.  It  opened  a  dark 
chapter  in  the  lad's  life.  For  two  months  he  said  he  almost 
died  with  pain.  The  boy's  sufferings  and  moans  threw  the 
household,  especially  the  old  father,  into  a  panic.  What 
could  be  done?  Medical  attrition  in  that  neighborhood  was 
of  the  rudest  kind.  One  day  a  young  fellow  visiting  at  the 
home  took  a  glance  at  the  injured  hand  and  called  out  boast- 
fully: "If  you  send  for  my  father  he'll  cure  that  in  a  few  days," 

Alas,  the  su^estion  was  adopted  and  the  father,  who  was 
something  of  a  quack,  was  sent  for.  He  tinkered  with  the 
hand  and  did  it  great  damage. 

For  two  months  he  kept  his  throbbing  hand  on  a  pillow  and 
for  two  years  he  carried  It  in  a  slii^.  One  day  a  gentleman 
hearing  of  hia  sufTerii^  came  over  and,  as  the  father  told  him 
about  Wilham's  experiences,  he  said:  "That  boy  has  suffered 
four  deaths."  It  was  his  left  hand.  A  bone  had  sought  to 
work  ita  way  towards  the  cut  place  but  it  worked  in  the  wrong 
direction.  The  httle  hand  was  drawn  together  and  while  it 
did  not  become  misshapen  in  any  disfiguring  way,  yet  it  was 
hindered  in  its  growth  and  carried  forever  afterwards  the  ngns 
of  ita  racking  e:q>eri^ce. 

Ah,  those  were  torturing  days  and  wedts  for  him.  How 
oftcm  he  muat  have  held  his  hand  and  looked  out  into  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


MBiGooi^le 


CHILDHOOD    •  7 

future  wondering  if  relief  would  ever,  ever  come.  While 
otheT  boya  were  romping  over  the  hills  and  shouting  in  happy 
glee  he  was  groaning  and  crying  in  ptun.  After  two  years — 
and  how  long  they  must  have  seemed — ^his  hand  healed,  after  a 
fashion,  and  came  out  of  the  sling.  No  one  understood 
it  then,  but^those  months  of  suffering  through  which  William 
passed  kindled  sympathies  within  him  that  were  destined  to 
play  a  large  part  in  his  future  career. 

His  home  nestled  amid  the  mountains  with  the  Pealcs  of 
Otter  looming  in  the  distance;  "The  Peaks"  were  spoken  of  as 
one  mountain.  "It  looked  bo  high  and  blue"  he  said  "that 
I  thought  I  could  climb  to  Heaven  on  it."  lliere  were  a  few 
slaves  on  thff  plantation  to  serve  the  family  and  the  home 
was  one  of  comfort  and  req)ectability  but  life  was  simple  and 
rude.  Mail  was  received  only  once  a  week  and  he  said  that 
he  did  not  know  that  up  to  his  seventeenth  year  he  had  for 
himself  as  much  a^  five  dollars. 

It  must  also  be  mentioned  that  he  was  frail,  sickly  and  sensi- 
tive. The  spirit  of  independence  that  had  broken  out  in  the 
conversation  with  his  father  about  the  weeds  still  lay  within 
him.  For  example  he  hated  for  a  boy  to  get  an  advant^^ 
over  him.  He  was  once  given  one  of  his  big  brother  Henry's 
suits  to  wear.  He  presented  a  ludicrous  spectacle  in  the  ill- 
fitting  and  well-worn  garments.  His  soul  stormed  in  revolt 
as  Henry  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sight  and  he  informed  him  that 
the  time  would  come  when  he,  Henry,  would  be  glad  to.  wear 
his  cast  oft  clothed, — a  prophecy  which  was  fulfilled  in  later 
years  much  to  the  hilarious  merriment  of  all  the  household, 
except  Hoiry, 

He  wanted  no  one  to  triumph  over  him  and  even  as  a  boy  be 
had  signal  success  in  m^nt^ning  his  supremacy.  On  one 
occaaon  he  was  out  in  the  woods  with  his  big  brother  Harvey, 
and — as  was  generally  the  case  on  such  hunting  expeditions, — 
Harvey  wielded  the  gun  while  WilUam  carried  the  game. 
Harvey  was  an  expert  with  the  gun  and  William  had  no  taste  ' 
nor  skill  in  that  direction  and  the  big  brother  naturally  con- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


8   ,  CHILDHOOD 

mdffl^d  it  a  waste  of  time  and  anununition  for  William  to  be 
ludng  the  weapon. 

"Harvey  let  me  take  a  shot"  called  out  William  that  day  as 
they  stood  before  a  tall  tree  in  the  top  of  which  a  squirrel  had 
neatly  curled  himself  up  amid  the  leaves  and  at  which  Harvey 
had  fired  several  shots  without  effect. 

"Oh,  you  could'nt  hit  him"  swd  Harvey  with  awful  disdain 
as  he  loaded  for  another  shot  which  also  proved  ineffectual. 

"Let  me  try"  pleaded  William  a  second  time.    The  brother 
with  increased  contempt  hooted  at  the  idea  of  his  hitting  such 
a  distant  mark  but  finally,  after  several  failures  to  bring  down 
the  game,  he  reluctantly  remarked,  "If  I  miss  him  this  time  * 
I  will  let  you  shoot  once  just  to  keep  you  quiet." 

Away  went  the  shot  but  the  squirrel  remained  untouched. 
Hastily  the  gun  was  loaded  and  handed  to  William  with  in- 
structions to  hurry  and  be  over  with  it.  William  lifted  the 
gun,  looked  far  away  up  into  the  tail  tree  at  the  place  where 
the  squirrel  was  said  to  be,  pointed  the  weapon  at  the  ^wt  and 
pulled  the  tri^^r.  Bang  went  the  gun;  there  was  a  rustle  of 
the  leaves  at  the  top  and  down  came  the  squirrel  tumbLng 
at  their  feet. 

Every  Saturday  William  went  to  Chilton's  mill  with  the 
com  and  one  day  the  owner  of  the  mill  s^d  to  him:  "William, 
come  and  have  dinner  with  me."  He  went  and  ever  after  that 
he  was  glad  to  go  because  of  the  many  fine  books  which  were 
there  to  read.  He  found  himself  attracted  to  the  young  man 
in  chaige  of  the  mill — C.  C  Meador, — and  these  two  souls 
were  drawn  together  in  a  friendship  that  was  broken  only  by 
death.  Thereafter  Saturday  was  his  red  letter  day,  for  it 
meant  "books  and  Meador." 

As  a  boy  in  the  mountains  with  no  mother  to  love  him,  hav- 
ing to  battle  against  sickness  and  loneliness,  blamed  by  some 
for  his  supposed  indolence,  with  his  own  brother  Harvey  much 
bigger  than  himself  and  temperamentally  very  different  from 
him,  he  seemed  to  be  put  on  the  defenuve  and  while  it  did  not 
make  him  sulky,  or  sore,  or  disagreeable,  yet  it  made  him  sensi- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHILDHOOD  9 

tive.  He  said  "I  fwrly  died  for  i^predation.  I  did  not  know 
what  was  the  matter,  but  I  suffered  unutterably  for  the  want 
of  a  mother,  for  an  intelligent  sympathy,  for  some  one  who 
could  mark  my  little  sorrows,  dress  my  little  wounds,  wipe  off 
my  tears  when  I  cried  and  kiss  me  when  I  went  to  bed." 

"I  really  believe"  aud  he  "that  I  never  forgot  one  apprecia- 
tive or  commendatory  word  spoken  to  me  during  my  twyhood. 
I  craved  the  good  will  of  others.  There  was  an  old  gtoitieman 
to  whose  house  I  aometimee  had  to  go, — Mr.  Joseph  Bees, 
by  name  ...  He  could  tell  me  things  tJiat  I  did  not 
know  and  that  drew  me  to  him.  He  had  a  strun  of  cordiality  of 
sympathy  which  I  always  felt  when  in  ccHitact  with  him.  He 
believed  in  me,  compUmented  me  on  little  things  apd  startled 
me  by  little  predictions  as  to  my  future."  How  agreeable  it 
would  be  if  this  old  ndghbor  had  only  written  down  for  us  what 
it  was  that  he  saw  in  the  boy  William  on  which  he  had  based  his 
predictions. 

We  have  already  discovered  that  William  was  a  boy  with 
dedsion  of  character,  eagerness  for  knowledge,  capacity  for  - 
friradship,  an  unwilliogness  to  bemg  triumphed  over,  a  sen^' 
tiveness  and  a  patience  under  prolonged  and  terrible  suffering. 
Even  the  incident  at  the  potato  patch  hints  at  something  more 
about  William  than  his  resolute  spirit.  It  suggests  that  at 
that  early  date  he  felt  that  God  had  aomething  for  him  to  do 
in  the  world. 

"I  was  a  great  knitter"  he  stud  "and  swept  the  floor  and  set 
the  table,  etc.  After  my  asters  all  married  I  kept  bouse  for 
my  three  brothers  and  my  father.  There  was  then  no  lady  in 
the  house.  I  carried  the  keys.  I  began  this  at  twelve  years  of 
age".  A  cheerless  picture  in  this — a  mountain  home  without 
wife,  mother  or  sister.  When  his  sister  married  and  left  the  home 
he  s^d  "I  cried  my  eyes  out  about  it." 

One  day  the  family  was  thrown  into  a  happy  flutter  by  the 
announcement  that  "Cou£dn  Jerry"  was  coming.  Dr.  Jeremiah 
B.  Jeter,  tall  and  patriarchal,  was  then  pastor  of  the  First 
Baptist  Church  of  Richmond,  Va.,  and  the  leading  BapUst 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


10  CHILDHOOD      - 

minister  of  the  state,  if  not  of  the  South.  The  coming  of  this 
eminent  kinsman  always  marked  an  epoch  with  the  family. 
The  old  father  would  take  a  new  lease  on  life  in  these  visits 
from  "CousiQ  Jerry"  and  his  dormant  powers  seemed  to  awake 
in  the  presence  of  his  gifted  relative. 

One  afternoon  Dr.  Jeter  and  the  father  started  acro^  the 
yard  to  walk  over  to  "Cousin  Tom's"  on  a  visit  and  William 
followed  them.  After  the  visit  and  on  their  return  homewards 
as  they  were  getting  over  a  rail  fence  that  lay  across  their 
path  they  paused  and  rem^ed  seated  on  the  t«p  of  the  fence. 
William  picked  up  a  soft  rock,  sat  down  in  one  of  the  comers 
of  the  fence  and  with  bis  "knife  and  a  piece  of  clay  began  to 
carve  out  a  book.    In  a  few  minutes  Dr.  Jeter  said: 

"How  are  your  children  getting  along?" 

"Very  well,  indeed;  all  of  them  are  doing  well,— that  is," 
and  here  his  voice  hesitated  and  dropped  a  little  "all  of  them 
except  one." 

"Which  child  can  this  one  be?"  wondered  William, 

The  father  took  up  each  of  his  children  by  name  beginning 
with  the  oldest  and  coming  down  the  line.  William  listened 
eagerly  and  his  boyish  heart  began  to  dame  with  fury  that  one 
of  the  children  should  be  causing  his  father  trouble.  He  listened 
for  the  name  of  the  guilty  one,  determined  to  wreck  his  venge- 
ance upon  him.  Down  the  list  came  the  father  giving  high 
praise  to  each  one  until  only  Harvey  and  William  were  left. 

"And  so  Harvey,  my  own  brother,  is  the  villain"  said  William 
to  himself,  but  to  his  consternation,  Harvey  like  the  other 
children  was  commended. 

"As  to  William,  my  youngest, — "  he  s^d  in  a  tender,  sad- 
dened tone,  "he  gives  me  more  concern  and  unhappiness  than 
all  my  other  children  together  and  I  tremble  for  his  future." 

A  small  tornado  of  shame  and  confusion  was  raging  in  the 
fence  comer.  "Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  the  Doctor  in  pained 
surprise.  "Ah,  I  am  sony  Indeed  to  hear  it.  Too  bad;  too 
bad,"  and  then  in  a  solemn  way  he  asked  "Is  he  vicious?" 

That  word  "vicious"  made  the  boy  in  the  fence  comer  jump 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHILDHOOD  11 

as  if  he  had  been  shot.  It  was  a  bnutd  new  word  to  him  and  as 
pronounced  by  the  Doctor  it  seemed  loaded  with  all  the  evils 
of  the  lower  regions.  Tremblingly  he  wuted  for  hia  father's 
reply  and  the  Hghts  flamed  out  once  more  for  him  as  his  father 
answered:  "Why  No;  he  ia  not  vicious;  he  is  the  most  aSectioD- 
ste  of  all  my  children  and  would  never  get  out  of  sight  of  me 
if  he  could  help  it." 

"What  ia  the  matter  with  him?"  the  Doctor  inquired. 

"He  ia  of  no  account  upon  the  earth  tor  work"  "said  the 
father."  "He  hates  any  kind  of  work  in  the  dirt  and  says  that 
he  does  not  believe  that  God  has  made  him  to  work  in  the  dirt," 

"What  does  he  do?    How  doea  he  spend  his  time?" 

"Why  he:doea  nothing  but  read;  it  is  books  when  he  gets  up, 
books  all  day  and  books  at  night;  he  knows  every  book  on  the 
plantation  by  heart."  The  Doctor  was  greatly  relieved,  end  the 
^ght  of  the  old  father,  so  grief  stricken  about  the  studious  habits 
of  the  boy  William,  caused  him  to  break  mto  a  hearty  laugh. 

"Is  that  all?"  he  exclaimed.  "It  may  be  that  the  Lord  has 
made  him  that  way  sure  enough;  there  are  many  things  for 
people  to  do  besides  work  on  the  farm  and,  while  I  am  sorry 
that  he  has  such  an  averaion  to  it,  I  am  glad  to  know  that  he  is 
not  rebellious  nor  wicked  nor  bard  to  man^e.  Give  him  an 
education  and  that  will  be  worth  more  to  him  than  $20,000." 

A  new  day  dawned  for  William.  Not  long  after  the  conversa- 
tion at  the  fence  he  was  sent  to  a  classical  achool  in  the  neighbor- 
hood which  to  hia  imagination  suggested  a  paradise.  He  sfud 
that  one  reason  why  he  Uked  to  talk  to  the  owner  of  the  mill 
was  because  he  knew  ao  many  things.  It  was  startling  to  note 
the  hunger  and  respect  that  William  had  for  knowledge.  He 
thought  that  the  world  was  filled  with  wonderful  things  to  be 
known  and  he  longed  to  know  them. 

"The  wish  to  know — that  endless  thirst 
Stjll  urged  me  onward  with  desire 
Insatiate  to  explore,  to  inquire." 

He  had  a  poor  opinion  of  the  boy  that  rattled  away  with 
foohsh  talk,  but  he  Uked  a  boy  who  would  "talk  sense." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SCHOOL    DAYS   AND   CONVERSION.      TEACHINO    SCHOOL. 
DECtStON   TO   PKKACH 

1848-1854 

It  was  a  mountain-top  day  for  Mm  when  he  walked  off  that 
first  morning  to  school.  The  teacher's  name  was  Mr,  E.  W. 
Horseley,  a  graduate  of  the  Vii^nia  Military  Institute.  Every 
afternoon  while  returning  home  from  school  William  would 
study  his  lessons  for  the  next  day,  often  stopping  on  the  way 
for  that  purpose,  and  frequently  knowing  half  his  lessons  upon 
his  arrival  at  borne.  Every  morning  he  would  be  waked  up 
by  his  father  two  hours  before  day  and  there  before  the  blaziDg 
light  of  a  big  fire  be  would  tug  and  toil  over  his  lessons.  Misang 
a  lesson  filled  him  with  shame;  but  the  approval  of  his  father, 
he  said,  was  more  to  him  than  medals  of  gold.  He  knew  that 
he  had  wounded  the  old  man  by  his  reluctance  to  working  on 
the  farm  and  it  was  his  delight  now  to  brii^  him  pleasure  by 
doing  well  in  his  classes.  His  teacher  filled  him  with  a  love  for 
Latiii  and  before  he  left  school  he  did  not  lack  much  of  being 
able  to  repeat  the  Latin  Grammar  bodily  from  b^iinuing  to  end. 

"William"  sfud  an  old  gentleman  in  the  neighborhood  to 
him  one  day  "I  wish  that  my  boys  loved  to  go  to  school  as 
much  as  you  do." 

William  said  that  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  his  affec- 
tion for  his  school  had  anything  noteworthy  in  it  but  the 
gentleman's  remark  brought  him  to  realise  that  he  did  indeed 
love  his  school.  But  he  bad  a  cravii^  for  something  else 
beddes  knowledge;  he  had  a  craving  for  religion.  When  a  very 
Small  boy  at  the  old  Mount  Hermon  church  something  took 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


RELIGIOUS  CONVICTIONS  13 

place  that  seemed  to  touch  the  deepest  chords  in  hia  soul.  A 
revival  was  in  progress  and  he  was  sitting  back  in  the  crowd 
watching  the  proceedings  with  curious  gaie  when  suddenly 
he  saw  His  sister  come  down  the  aisle  to  his  cousin  Henry, — 
"a  biggish,  rough  boy" — and  in  a  most  toider  mann^  invite 
him  to  go  with  her  to  the  front  seat.  Hairy,  with  his  streaming 
tears,  went  and  little  William  saw  it  all  and  knew  that  rel^on 
waa  at  the  bottom  of  it  and  he  thoi^ht  that  reli^on  was  the 
biggest  thing  in  the  world,  and  that  he  wanted  it  too,  but  he 
understood  sJmost  nothing  about  it.  The  news  went  forth 
that  Henry  was  converted,  and  \miiam  felt  that  he  too  would 
like  to  be  converted  but  it  seemed  a  thing  impossible.  He 
was  only  ten  years  old  and  so  he  locked  up  these  timid  desires 
in  his  heart  and  kept  on  his  narrow  little  pathway. 

Several  years  had  now  passed  since  the  Mount  Hennon 
meetings  and  he  had  become  a  school  boy,  but  the  yearning  for 
"reHgjon"  had  never  entirely  left  him. 

One  day  he  heard  news  that  gave  him  a  fluttering  of  heart. 
He  was  told  that  meetings  were  soon  to  comm^ice  at  Mount 
Hermtm.  He  felt  that  he  would  give  all  that  he  had  if  he  could 
uily  become  converted,  but  there  seemed  no  hope  for  a  timid, 
ignorant  lad  like  him.  He  kept  on  at  school,  but  every  day 
both  going  and  coming,  he  would  turn  aside  from  the  road,  and 
between  the  crooked  roots  of  a  big  oak  tree  be  would  bow 
himself  down  and  tell  God  about  his  troubles. 

On  Friday  afternoon  he  ran  home  as  if  the  house  was  a£re 
and  that  night  after  supper  he  went  to  Mount  Hermon, — ^went 
alone — ^two  miles  of  the  journey  being  through  an  unbroken 
forest.  The  preachers,  the  crowd  of  people,  the  thrilling  songs 
and  the  sinueis  pressing  to  the  front  bench  hdd  his  attention; 
but  he  sat  helpless, — ^when  to  his  amasement  a  fine  old  gentle- 
man. Dr.  Falls,  came  down  the  aisle  to  him  and  in  a  singularly 
kind  manner  invited  Mm  to  go  with  him  to  the  front.  William 
wmt  and  was  surprised  at  his  coohiess  when  he  reached  the 
front  bench.  No  light  came  into  his  soul  and  much  discouraged 
he  wmded  his  long  and  lonely  way  back  to  his  home.  He  went 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


14  RELIGIOUS  CONVICTIONS 

the  next  day,  but  nothing  occured  to  bring  him  comfort  and  he 
faced  the  prospect  of  another  solituy  tramp  homewards  that 
evening,  but  his  venerable  friend  Dr.  Falls  who  lived  near  the 
church  said  to  him:  "William,  c<Hne  home  with  me  to  supper." 
That  invitation  meant  much  for  William.  It  meant  his  return 
to  the  church  that  night.  He  went.  The  party  at  Dr.  Falls' 
home  that  evoiing,  however,  was  too  gay  for  the  boy  to  linger 
there  and  he  started  to  church  soon  after  supper,  the  moon 
lighting  his  path  across  the  field.  On  his  way  he  heard  foot- 
steps behind  him  and  was  overtaken  by  a  kipsman,  Mr.  Munroe 
Hatcher,  who  opaied  up  the  subject  of  religion  to  him.  The 
boy  listened  and  answered  his  questiona  in  trembling  fashicm. 
The  man,  who  himself  had  been  recently  converted  after  a 
notoriously  wicked  hfe,  sought  to  explfun  to  William  what  it 
meant  to  beUeve  in  Christ  "  I  have  heard  people  tfJk  about 
having  ffuth,  but  I  don't  believe  I  can  understand  it"  WiUiam 
said  almost  in  a  tone  of  despair.  Suddaily  the  man  stopped  in 
the  road  and,  looking  towards  the  sky,  he  pointed  his  finger 
upwards  and  said:  "Do  you  see  that  hmb  up  yonder?"  The 
troubled  boy  lifted  his  gaze  and  there,  far  above  him,  he 
saw  the  hmb  of  a  giant  oak  stretching  itaelf  across  the  road. 
How  high  it  seemed  to  William's  eyeal 

"Suppose  you  were  on  that  limb;  you  would  be  afr^d  to 
jump  oft,  would'nt  you?" 

The  boy  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  it  and  s^d: 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"Look  again"  he  said.  "Suppose  you  were  on  that  limb  and 
I  were  to  call  to  you  and  teU  you  to  jump  off  that  I  would 
catch  you;  would  you  jump?" 

"No,  indeed"  said  WiUiam  very  decidedly. 

"But,  why  not?  If  I  were  to  promise  you  that  I  would 
certainly  catch  you  and  that  you  would  not  "be  hurt,  why 
wouldn't  you  jump?" 

"Because  I  would'nt  think  you  would  have  the  strength  to 
catch  me." 

"Ah,  that  is  it  exactly"  he  replied  "You  would  not  believe 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CONVERSION  15 

that  I  could  do  it.    That  is  unbelief.    You  would  lack  futh  in 
me," 

There  flashed  into  William's  mind  a  funt  idea  of  what  it 
meant  to  doubt  Christ,  and  he  felt  a  little  guilty  for  seeming 
to  doubt  Christ. 

"But  look  at  that  limb  again"  he  said  with  a  new  vigor  in 
his  tone.  "Suppose  now  that  you  were  on  that  lim1>— look 
up  at  it." 

Once  more  the  boy  turned  his  heavy  anxious  eyes  towards 
the  limb  and  it  seemed  to  tower  higher  than  ever. 

"Suppose  you  were  up  there  and  Jesus  Christ  was  to  come 
right  here  and  you  should  know  that  it  wa»  he  and  he  should 
Uft  both  his  hands  towards  you  and  should  call  to  you  'William, 
let  go  the  hmb  and  fall  and  I  will  catch  you,'  would  you  do  it?" 

How  the  question  stirred  his  soul.  He  did  not  make  quick 
reply.  He  faced  fully  the  question:  "Would  I  let  go  if  Christ 
were  to  tell  me  he  would  catch  me."  As  he  thought  of  Christ 
the  Son  of  God  making  him  such  an  offer  he  felt  with  all  his 
heart  that  he  would  let  go.  He  knew  that  he  would.  He 
even  began  to  wish  that  he  was  up  on  the  limb  and  could  show 
Christ  that  he  would,  and  so  he  answered  in  glad  tone. 

"Yes,  I  would." 

"Why  would  you?"  the  friend  asked. 

"Because  if  he  should  say  he  would  catch  me  I  beheve  that 
he  would." 

"In  other  words,  you  would  have  faith  in  him"  the  old  man 
eagerly  replied. 

Slowly  the  light  began  to  break  into  the  boy's  mind.  The 
old  man  went  on  to  tell  him  that  he  would  let  go  the  Hmb 
because  he  had  faith  in  Christ,  and  "so  Christ  says  you  must 
let  go  your  sins  and  all  your  earthly  hopes  for  salvation,  and 
fall  into  his  arms  and  he  will  catch  you  and  save  you."  We 
need  not  protract  the  story  except  to  say  that  William  went 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


16  TEACHING  SCHOOL 

into  the  church  and  resolved  that  he  would  not  leave  the 
building  until  he  settled  the  question  as  to  whether  he  would 
trust  himaelf  to  Chribt  to  save  him;  and  right  there  that  night 
he  settled  it.  He  saw  his  brother  Heniy  sitting  in  another  part 
of  the  church  and  he  pushed  hia  way  over  to  him,  squeezed 
into  the  bench  by  him,  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  leaning 
as  far  up  towards  his  ear  as  he  could  get,  whispered :  '  'Brother 
Henry,  I  can  trust  the  Savior."  It  was  late  that  night  when 
Henry  and  William  reached  home;  the  house  had  long  been 
wrapped  in  slumber,  but  Henry  tip-toed  into  the  old  father's 
room  went  to  his  bed,  gently  awoke  him  and  stud : 

"Father,  great  news  tonight;  your  baby  boy  came  into  the 
kingdom  of  God." 

A  day  or  so  later,  the  father  said  to  him:  "My  Son,  if  you 
are  thinking  of  joining  the  church  I  suggest  that  you  read  your 
New  Testament  before  taking  any  public  step." 

William  had  always  declared  that  he  expected  to  be  a 
Presbyterian  in  memory  of  his  mother  who  was  a  Presbyterian. 
His  kins-people  on  his  father's  side  were  Baptiste.  He  went 
to  the  New  Testament  and  one  day  he  announced  that  he 
had  decided  to  be  baptized  and  joia  the  Baptist  Church.  A  few 
days  later,  as  the  multitude  gathered  at  the  beautiful  Otter 
Creek,  and  as  old  Father  Harris  led  the  candidates  down  into 
the  water,  one  of  that  happy  number  was  William.  He  at- 
tended some  cottage  prayer  meetings  and  to  his  over-mastering 
d^ight  his  words  to  an  unsaved  young  man  led  him  to  Christ, 
It  was  hia  first  taste  of  aoul  winning  and  a  fire  was  then  kindled 
in  hia  heart  that  never  went  out. 

He  now  faced  a  crisis.  He  had  completed  his  course  in  the 
n^ghborhood  schools,  was  seventeen  years  of  age,  and  was 
prepared  by  his  studies  to  enter  College — but  alas,  his  father 
bad  not  the  means  to  send  him.  He  determined  to  earn  the 
money  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen  he  went  to  the  home  of  his 
married  aister  at  the  foot  of  the  Peaks  of  Otter  to  teach  school. 

He  thus  writes: 

"My  brother  Henry  went  with  me;  we  traveled  on  horseback 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DECISION  TO  PREACH  17 

carrying  my  little  stock  of  goods  in  very  ordinary  saddle  bags. 
I  am  sure  I  did  not  cany  as  much  as  two  doUars  with  me  and 
although  I  was  then  seventeen  years  and  four  months  old  I 
do  not  believe  that  I  had  had  as  much  as  five  dollars  in  all  my 
life  put  together.  I  had  suffered  greviously  during  the  past 
summer  with  eczema  and  it  troubled  me  all  the  winter  long. 
During  that  winter  I  occupied  a  little  log  cabin  in  the  yard  and 
did  quite  an  amount  of  reading, — though  as  a  fact,  I  had 
nothing  to  read  by  in  the  way  of  light  except  fire  light,  light- 
wood  not  being  found  in  that  neighborhood." 

In  addition  to  his  regular  school  he  organized  what  he  called 
a  "School  of  Manners"  in  which  he  taught  bis  pupils  "how  to 
enter  a  parlor,"  "how  to  sit  in  a  chair,"  "how  to  use  the  knife 
and  fork  in  eating"  and  other  such  feats  of  social  skill.  He 
became  keenly  interested  also  in  a  community  Debating 
Society,  and  here  he  probably  had  his  first  experience  in 
grappling  with  others  in  debate. 

But  this  young  teacher  had  a  trouble  within  his  own  breast 
that  his  pupils  knew  not  of.  A  question  was  knocking  at  bis 
soul  for  an  answer — the  question  as  to  whether  he  ought  to 
alter  the  Gospel  ministry.  He  had  as  a  boy  seemed  very 
positive  that  God  did  not  intend  for  him  to  be  a  farmer.  His 
mother's  dying  prayer  was  that  he  should  be  a  preacher;  old 
Father  Harris  had  startled  him  one  day  with  the  same  sug- 
gestion, and  in  other  ways  the  subject  had  g^ed  his  atten- 
tion. The  question  had  been  disturbing  him  so  long  and  was 
now  Bo  persistent  in  its  appeal  that  one  night — misty  and 
dismal  though  it  was — he  put  on  his  hat  and  went  out  into  the 
darkness  and  pushed  bis  way  up  a  near-by  hill  determined 
that  he  would  remain  on  the  hill  until  the  question  was  settled. 
There,  under  a  cheny  tree,  the  dying  prayer  of  her  whose 
dust  was  sleeping  under  another  cherry  tree  was  answered  and 
her  boy  there  decided  to  devote  himself  to  the  gospel  ministry. 

His  decision  to  preach,  however,  did  not  fling  him  precipi- 
tately into  the  active  ministry.  Between  him  and  his  chosen 
life's  work  there  stood  the  CoU^e,  and  between  him  and  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


18  TEACHING  IN  MONTGOMERY  COUNTY 

College  were  several  hundred  dollars  which  he  must  earn; 
and  so  when  his  little  school  closed  he  moved  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  mountain  where  he  was  engaged  to  teach 
another  school  for  the  next  twelve  months.  At  this  time  he 
wore  a  glove  on  his  crippled  hand.  At  the  end  of  the  Besaion  he 
returned  to  his  home  with  his  earnings, — ^which  were  not 
sufficient,  however,  to  unlock  the  College  gate.  Although  hia 
soul  cried  out  for  the  high  education,  he  turned  once  more  to 
teaching  in  order  to  increase  his  financial  store.  He  undertook 
a  private  school  in  Mont^mery  County,  writing  at  the  same 
time  a  letter  of  inquiry  to  Dr.  Ryland,  President  of  Richmond 
College,  regarding  the  College;  but  the  passing  weeks  brought 
him  no  reply. 

In  the  meantime  something  happened  in  his  school.  He 
was  compelled  to  whip  one  of  his  obstreporous  pupils  and  that 
night  the  big  father  lunged  into  William's  room  and  demanded 
an  explanation.  William  told  him  that  the  proper  discipline 
of  the  school  required  the  whipping  and  then  informed  the 
fuming  parent  that  if  he  was  dissatisfied  he  could  settle 
with  him  and  their  relations  would  cease.  The  suggestion  was 
accepted  and  thereupon  William  packed  up  and  departed, 
sleeping  that  night  at  a  neighbor's. 

Next  morning  he  stopped  at  the  Post  Office  on  his  way  to 
the  depot,  and  was  handed  a  letter  which  proved  to  be  from 
Dr.  Ryland.  The  letter  swd  in  substance,  "Come  on  to 
lUchmond  College." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


FOUR  7BABS  AT  BICBUOND  OOLLBQK 
1864-1858 

Upon  bis  arrival  at  home  he  was  greeted  by  the  news  that  his 
brother  Harvey  had  also  decided  to  enter  the  ministry  and 
soon  it  was  agreed  that  William  should  divide  his  funds  with 
Harvey  and  that  together  they  should  enter  Richmond  College. 

A  happy  day  was  that  for  William.  For  twenty  years  he 
had  been  a  country  youth  and  had  played  his  little  part  within 
the  circle  of  the  mountains.  But  now  the  portal  swings  open 
and  he  is  to  enter  the  great  world  out«de.  His  passion  for 
knowledge, — so  rampant  and  aggressive — ^is  at  last  to  be 
rewarded  and  he  ia  to  become  a  student  in  a  great  institution 
and  a  comrade  with  ambitious,  brilliaDt  young  men. 

As  William  and  bis  brother  were  speeding  along  on  the  tr^ 
that  was  taking  them  to  the  College  at  Bichmond  William  said : 

"Harvey,  my  feeling  of  greenness  and  outlandishness,  as  I 
think  of  the  CoU^e,  is  overwhelming  and  I  know  we  will  cut  a 
Sony  figure  before  those  brilliant,  highly  advanced  students." 

"I  expect  you  are  right,  William." 

"I  know  we  will  furnish  them  amusement  and  be  the  tai^t 
for  their  jokes"  continued  William  "but  I  do  have  one  wish 
and  that  is  that  we  will  not  be  the  worst  of  the  lot." 

"Vain  wish"  Harvey  rephed  laughing. 

"I  think"  continued  William  "that  if  we  can  only  find  just 
one  student  who  is  unquestionably  a  bigger  fool  than  we  are  I 
will  rest  easier." 

"You  are  becoming  scared  too  soon.  I  am  not  troubled. 
19 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


20  RICHMOND  COLLEGE 

Those  fellows  do  not  wony  me,  and  what  care  I  for  their 
polish  and  their  big  learning.  They  have  had  their  chance  and 
we  bave'nt.  They  will  have  to  take  ue  at  what  we  are/'  and 
Harvey  grew  defiant  as  lie  spoke. 

But  defiauOe  did  not  suit  William's  mood  at  that  mommt. 
He  finally  said: 

"Harvey." 

"What  is  it?" 

"If  the  fool  killer  does  come  around  the  Coll^fe  after  we 
get  there,  it  will  go  a  long  way  towards  reconcilii^  me  to  n^ 
dreadful  fate  if  I  can  only  witness  the  execution  of  one  fool 
greater  than  I  am,  before  my  time  comes." 

At  sunset  these  two  mountain  boys  alighted  at  the  depot  in 
Richmond,  and  engaged  the  driver  of  a  street  wagon  to  carry 
them  and  thar  trunks  to  the  College  for  twenty-five  cents 
apiece.  Each  one  sat  upon  his  trunk  in  the  wagon  and  in  such 
state  and  pomp  they  drove  in  upon  the  College  campus. 

"A  somewhatt  oldish  student"  spying  these  two  country 
youths  took  them  in*  hand  at  once,  showed  them  where  they 
could  get  their  supper,  found  a  room  where  they  could  sleep 
and  all  the  while  kept  talking  to  them  in  quite  a  knowing  and 
fatherly  way.  William  was  overwhelmed  with  gratitude  and 
said  to  others  afterwards  that  he  loved  the  fellow  on  the  spot. 
But  that  night  after  William  and  Harvey  had  gone  to  bed 
William  said  softly: 

"Harvey." 

"What  is  it?"  mumbled  the  older  brother. 

"I  solemnly  believe  that  if  the  fool  killer  comes  along  to- 
night that  you  and  I  will  have  two  chances  to  one  so  far  as  our 
kind  benefactor  who  took  us  in  hand  <hi  our  arrival  this  evening 
is  concerned."  William's  jest  about  bis  greenness  had  in  it 
no  mock  modesty.  His  own  stock  of  learning  seemed  to  him 
so  small  that  he  thought  that  if  he  could  hold  his  tongue  he 
would  at  least  not  make  a  fool  of  himself  with  the  students. 
He  expected  to  be  thrilled  by  the  fine  talk  of  bright  pupils. 
His  thirst  was  for  knowledge.    There  were  great  books  to  be 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


RICHMOND  COLLEGE  21 

studied;  great  teachers  from  whom  be  could  learn  and  gifted 
students  with  whom  he  could  associate,  and  that  constituted 
the  i^oiy  of  the  Collie  for  him. 

He  and  Harvey  on  Sunday  rec^ved  company  and  William 
sud  they  v,  ere  wild  with  coacdt  to  find  how  well  they  were  being 
ccmadered  by  the  students.  He  said  that  be  felt  dwarfed  by 
the  superior  genius  of  some  of  the  young  men  in  CoU^e  that 
year,  and  they  taught  him  "that  there  was  a  long  chasm 
between  mediocrity  and  genius." 

Hie  capacity  for  friendship  manifested  itself  during  this 
Brst  session,  bis  soul  becoming  knit  to  that  of  a  student  named 
Charles  H.  Ryland  and  the  unioix  thus  formed  continued 
imbroken  to  the  end  of  life. 

There  was  another  studmt  there  with  whom  be  fonned  a 
life  long  friendship.  He  was  a  simple-hearted,  unpretentious, 
country  youth,  but  at  thdr  first  meeting  WiUiam  knew  that 
he  would  like  him  and  at  every  meetJi^  the  liking  grew,  grew 
soUdly  and  rapidly.  And  though  William  was  slow  in  letting 
down  the  bars,  yet  they  were  gradually  all  taken  down  and 
it  came  to  pass  that  a  second  friendship  was  formed — this 
time  with  John  R.  Bagby,  which  proved  in  some  respects  to 
be  the  atrot^est,  most  lasting  and  most  affectionate  of  his  life. 
He  was  discriminating  in  his  estimate  of  bis  Ck>ll^e  mates. 
There  was  one  student,  who  afterwards  became  a  distinguished 
minister,  who  seemed  to  excite  William's  aversion  and  indigna- 
tion to  whom  he  aaid:  "I  do  not  like  your  actions,  or  your 
manners;  they  are  offensive  to  me." 

Even  regarding  one  of  the  high  officials  of  the  College  whom 
he  respected  he  said:  "If  I  had  superintended  the  making  of  the 
old  gentleman  I  would  have  omitted' several  things."  William's 
decisioa  of  character  expressed  itself  strongly  in  his  likes  and 
dislikes.  He  stud  in  later  years  to  the  venerable  official  that 
in  his  stud^it  days  he  admired  him  and  reverenced  him  but 
that  there  were  times  when  bis  admiration  was  not  in  working 
order. 
If  he  did  not  like  a  tbmg  his  instinct  for  improvement  would 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


22  RICHMOND  COLLEGE 

spring  into  action.  There  was  a  Literary  Society  in  the  College 
which  he  joined  but  he  soon  found  himself  discontented.  It 
lacked  snap  and  force  and  he  said  so,  and  he  and  Charley 
Ryland  and  W.  S.  Penick  decided  that  conditions  would  be 
bettered  by  the  organization  of  another  Society.  They  thought 
that  the  two  would  stimulate  each  other  and  a  higher  standard 
of  excellence  be  maintained.  Accordingly  the  three  young 
men  decided  to  launch  the  new  organization  at  the  opening 
of  the  second  season. 

This  was  done,  young  Ryland  suggesting  its  name, — "Philolo- 
^an"  and  William  suggesting  W.  S.  Penick  as  its  first  preadent. 
"I  think"  "said  Charles  Ryland  referring  to  the  new  Society, 
"that  more  than  any  other  single  person  he  [Wilham  E.  Hatcher] 
shaped  its  early  life  and  gave  it  popularity  in  the  College." 

The  following  letter  was  written  recently  by  a  lady  who  was 
a  student  in  those  days  in  the  Richmond  Female  Institute. 
She  thus  describes  the  young  Bedford  student,  Mr.  William 
Hatcher: 

"He  said  of  himself  in  his  inimitable  style  that  he  started  to 
College  aa  a  verdant  country  youth  fearing  the  fool  killer 
would  seize  him  before  be  reached  Richmond.  But  the  faculty 
welcomed  him  as  a  lad  of  unusual  promise.  They  placed  him 
in  the  front  rank  and  kept  him  on  the  roll  of  honor  during 
his  College  career.  Like  many  freshmen  he  took  the  role  of 
cynic  and  woman  hater.  Perhaps  he  thought  he  could  pursue 
his  studies  better  under  this  guise.  He  was  handsome  and 
witty,  BO  that  "the  girls"  of  that  period  who  are  the  grand- 
mothers and  great  grandmothers  of  today — or,  of  yesterday — 
were  anxious-  to  make  his  acquaintance.  But  he  resolutely 
declined  all  invitations  and  always  expressed  his  contempt  for 
the  fair  sex  when  as  collie  orator  he  had  an  opportunity  to 
express  his  views.  He  declared  that  he  could  forgave  their 
ignorance  of  literature  if  they  knew  anything  of  domestic 
science;  but  that  while  they  read  nothing  more  uplifting  than 
Godey's  Lady's  book,  they  marveled  how  the  apples  ever  got 
into  the  dumplings.    I  do  not  use  quotation  marks  because  his 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


RICHMOND  COLLEGE  23 

langiuage  was  better  than  my  memory.  These  remarks  were 
listeied  to  by  the  senior  class  of  the  Richmond  Female  Insti- 
tute, yomig  ladies  whose  professors  were  proud  of  their  way  of 
reciting  Butler's  Analogy,  Virgil,  and  Mathanatics.  Of  course 
they  yearned  for  revenge," 

He  heard  that  a  young  pastor  from  Baltimore,  Rev.  George 
B.  Taylor,  would  deUver  an  alumni  address  before  the  College. 
The  thought  oi  a  young  minister  speaking  under  such  con- 
ditions fired  his  imagination  and  kindled  his  desire  to  hear 
him.  He  heard  him, — ^the  subject  of  the  address  being  'The 
Thinker." 

He  afterwards  wrote;  "I  did  not  meet  the  alumni  orator  on 
the  occasion  but  I  saw  men  and  women  shaking  hands  with 
him  in  a  pleased  way,  and  I  knew  that  he  hit  the  nail  on  the 
head.  I  joined  the  student  gang  as  they  plodded  out  and 
despaired  of  ever  doing  anything  like  that." 

He  himself  made  a  striking  address  in  July  1856.  It  was 
before  the  Grace  Street  Baptist  Sunday  School  in  Richmond 
where  he  bad  been  invited  to  make  a  fourth  of  July  E^}eech. 
The  manuscript  has  been  found  among  bla  papers  and  was 
written  with  scrupulous  neatness.  The  sheets  are  sewed 
together  and  enclosed  within  a  blue  wrapper,  on  the  back  of 
which  are  written — or  rather  pen  printed  with  ornamental 
border, — ^the  words: 

"Delivered  before  the 

"Grace  Street  Sabbath  School 

"July  4th  1856 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

Not  a  word  is  erased  nor  a  line  altered  in  the  manuscript,  and 
its  whole  appearance  shows  that  it  is  the  final  product  of  much 
preparation.  Even  at  this  early  period  he  had  begun  the 
practice  of  careful  rewritings  of  his  public  discourses.     His 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


24        FIRST  EFFORTS  AT  PREACHING 

addreea  predicts  the  coming  war  between  the  North  and  the 
South.  He  chose  as  his  subject,  "The  influence  oi  Politics  upon 
the  country's  youth",  and  among  other  things  he  said:  "Present 
conditions  indicate  the  overthrow  of  our  country  It  seems 
that  our  nation  wishes  to  exhaust  the  vitality  of  the  Union 
by  bleeding  her  at  every  vein  by  party  weapons  and  by  tearing 
her  asunder  .  .  ."  He  then  tells  them  tliat  he  speaks  not 
as  a  Southerner  to  justify  the  South  but  "to  exhort  the  South 
to  show  a  spirit  of  tolerance  and  patience  befitting  the  solemn 
poffition  which  we  occupy."  Civil  War  would  be  worse,  he 
declared,  than  fordgn  war  with  England. 

"Let  England  come.  She  can  not  inflict  upon  ub  half  the 
mischief  that  must  result  from  Civil  war.  .  .  .  Civil  War 
in  the  Unionlll    Oh  my  countrymen  and  my  GodI    .... 

"I  never  gaze  into  the  calm  eye  of  a  promising  boy  without 
sighing: 'How  like  lambs  for  the  slaughter' 

"Little  boys,  don't  be  politicians.  .  .  .  Your  country  calls 
you  to  be  patriots.    Your  God  calls  you  to  be  christians." 

In  his  first  efforts  at  preaching,  however,  William  had  much 
to  discourage  him.  He  had  had  no  homJIetical  instruction. 
His  first  attempt  seems  to  have  been  made  durii^  his  vaca- 
tion in  Bedford  and  after  his  first  year  in  College.  He  watt 
over  to  a  nearby  house  where  a  young  man  was  holding  a 
series  of  meetings.  The  preacher  laid  hold  of  him  and  put 
him  up  for  a  sermon.  After  the  performance,  as  William  was 
walking  away  in  the  dark,  he  heard  an  old  fellow  say  to  some 
one  "I  dun  got  a  fa'r  night's  sleep  while  that  feller  was  talkin'  " 
The  remark  sent  him  on  his  way  in  a  crumpled  and  shattered 
condition.  A  stinging  blow  of  that  nature  always  withered 
hint.  Some  yotmg  men  could  make  ludicrous  spectacles  of 
themselves  and  suffer  collapse  and  yet  shake  it  o£F  with  a 
laugh,  but  not  so  with  William.  He  fought  hard  to  avoid 
such  disasters  but  when  they  came  it  was  not  in  lus  nature  to 
make  light  of  them. 

It  is  true  that  we  have  no  record  of  these  early  failurea 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


FIRST  EFFORTS  AT  PREACHING        25 

except  Mte  recitals  of  his  own  pen  and  his  failures  may  have 
seemed  greater  to  him  than  to  others.  He  related  that  the 
president  of  the  Ck>llege  used  to  send  the  young  ministerial 
students  to  preach  at  one  of  the  Colored  Baptist  churches 
of  the  dty.  Some  said  he  sent  them  that  they  might  practice 
on  the  colored  hearers.  "He  sent  me  once"  said  ^lliam 
"and  the  way  in  which  I  tried  the  people  effectually  cut  me 
off  from  any  further  practice  on  my  part." 

He  was  ^ven  another  opportunity  at  a  Mission  and  he 
esid:  "My  text  and  I  had  a  misunderstanding  at  the  start  and 
were  never  on  speaking  terms  afterwards."  It  was  during 
his  second  summer  vacation  that  a  kind  hearted  old  kinsman 
at  whose  house  be  was  visiting  sud:  "William  I  want  you  to 
stay  over  Sunday  and  preach  and  let  me  see  what  you  can 
do."  William  did  not  fancy  the  mode  of  invitation  for  he  did  not 
feel  that  he  had  any  preaching  wares  to  be  putting  on  exhibi- 
tion but  he  preached.  "It  was  forty  years"  he  said  "before 
I  was  invited  to  that  pulpit  ^ain." 

But  the  tide  soon  turned.  During  this  same  Summer  a 
message  came  to  him  one  day  from  old  Father  Harris  telling 
him  that  a  meeting  was  to  begin  at  Sjick  Spring  Church  on 
the  next  Sunday  and  as  the  old  pastor  could  not  be  present  on 
the  opening  day,  he  asked  William  to  preach  for  him.  With 
a  fluttering  of  heart  he  consented  and  set  about  his  prepara- 
tion. He  swd:  "I  conned  over  my  text,  walked  it  in  the  woods, 
combed  out  the  tallies  of  my  tiioughts,  went  on  my  knees 
about  it  and  then  with  many  dreads  and  with  enough  awkward- 
ness to  enliven  a  circus  I  went  to  the  appointment."  He 
preached  from  the  text;  "Come  unto  me  ail  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden  and  I  will  give  you  rest"  and  he  s^d  that  as  he 
preached,  the  fires  in  his  own  heart  seemed  to  kindle;  his 
text  opened  before  him  with  a  new  and  heavenly  richness 
and  his  soul  feasted  and  reveled  in  it  as  he  gave  it  out  to  his 


As  he  was  jogging  homewards  after  the  service  an  old  gentle- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


26        FIRST  EFFORTS  AT  PREACHING 

man,  a  deacon  of  the  church,  stately  and  dignified  rode  up 
beside  him  in  the  road  and  said : 

"I  must  have  you  for  dinner  today"  and  then  later  on  he 
SEud — and  William  noticed  that  the  old  gentleman's  voice 
choked  as  he  spoke: 

"How  I  wish  my  boyB  could  have  gotten  into  the  church 
today  and  could  have  heard  you.  I  think  they  could  not  have 
resisted  it," 

His  words  fell  hke  music  upon  the  young  preachers 
ears.  Nothing  like  it  had  he  ever  heard  before.  But  another 
surprise  awaited  him.  A  second  geatlem&n  soon  joined  thern, 
in  their  ride, — William's  old  teacher. 

"Who  is  to  conduct  these  meetings?"  the  teacher  asked 
but  the  other  did  not  seem  to  know.  Whereupon  the  teacher 
who  was  a  Methodist,  said:  "If  you  could  get  this  boy,  my  old 
school  boy,  to  do  the  preaching  and  be  would  tell  that  story 
as  he  told  it  today  we  would  have  a  great  revival."  It  is  not 
known  what  "that  stoiy"  was  which  so  impressed  the  old 
teacher  but  it  was  this  plan  of  telling  one  great  story  in  a 
sermon  that  took  root  in  his  ministry  and  bore  rich  fruit  in  his 
subsequent  hfe. 

On  Tuesday  morning,  to  his  overwhelming  surpnse,  he 
received  a  request  from  the  old  pastor  that  he  would  come 
back  to  Suck  Spiing  Church  and  help  him  in  the  meetings. 
He  responded  to  the  request  and  preached  day  by  day  in 
meetings  that  became  memorable  in  that  section  of  the  country. 
"It  was  as  sweet  as  the  grapes  of  eschol"  he  said  "it  had 
in  it  the  very  wines  of  the  celestial  kingdom  and  put  a  new 
light  on  life  and  a  new  peace  in  my  heart." 

The  following  narrative  of  an  incident  that  oocured  in  the 
meetings  shows  hia  habit  of  taking  note  of  ludicrous  situations 
in  the  midst  of  aolenm  surroundings. 

"It  runed  one  night"  he  said  "shutting  in  a  restless  hound. 
At  the  close  of  my  sermon  I  called  on  a  brother  to  make  a 
special  prayer.  It  was  a  brother  who  bad  a  voice  sepulchral 
in  his  depths  and  mountainous  in  its  elevations.    He  began 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HUMOROUS  INCIDENTS  IN  MEETINGS  27 

under  ground,  resembling  somewhat  a  bumble  bee  in  a  barrel, 
or  the  solemn  rumble  of  a  wind  in  a  cellar.  Every  sentence 
gave  new  strength  and  swell  to  hie  voice  until  there  was  some 
solicitude  felt  about  the  roof.  Not  long  after  he  began  hla 
prayer  I,  who  was  kneeling  in  the  pulpit,  heard  a  most  piteous 
and  piercing  whine  behind  me.'  For  a  time  I  felt  entirely  too 
devout  to  investigate  the  trouble  but  I  found  that  every  time 
the  praying  brother  climbed  a  new  note  higher  in  his  prayer 
this  dismal  noise  behind  me  and  right  at  my  feet  also  grew 
in  strength  until  I  felt  constriuned  to  look  around. 

"It  was  the  immense  hound  and  the  extraordinary  vocal 
ocercises  which  were  going  on  at  the  foot  of  the  pulpit  steps 
were  evidently  getting  upon  his  nerves.  The  prayer  was 
affecting  the  hound  very  seriously  and  I  made  a  sort  of  calcula- 
tion based  on  my  acquaintance  with  the  ascending  scale  of 
Brother  Lee's  vocal  power  in  prayer  with  the  result  that  I  con- 
cluded that  if  the  dog  rose  in  his  vocal  excitement  correspond- 
ii^ly  with  the  brother  that  the  church  would  hear  a  mountain 
howl  that  would  be  most  unfriendly  to  our  revival." 

His  ability  to  see  humorous  features  that  might  be  lurking 
about  an  incident  appeared  in  one  of  his  visits  to  hear  Dr. 
Jeter  preach  at  Grace  Street  Church.  Doctor  Jeter  was 
comparing  the  glory  of  the  christian  to  the  distinctions  of 
earth  and  William  thus  writes  regarding  the  sermon: 

"He  was  in  the  preaching  humor  and  was  towering  in  his 
passionate  eloquence.  Rising  to  the  climax  and  with  his  voice 
at  the  highest  pitch  he  exclaimed: 

"  'I  would  rather  be  a  christian  than  to  have  the  wealth  of  the 
Rothchilds;  I  would  rather  be  a  christian  than  to  be  the  presi- 
dent of  these  United  States;  I  would  rather  be  a  christian  than 
to  wear  the  crown  of  England  and — I  would  rather  be  a  christian 
(here  he  was  very  high)  than  to — than  to  be  (here  he  began  to 
shake  and  fall)  rather  be  a  christian  I  say, — than  than  to  be — 
than  I  say  to  be — Jidiua  Caesar.' 

"Why  he  lu^ed  in  the  tyrannical  Caesar  at  this  point  I 
never  knew.  He  may  have  thought  that  he  would  meet  the 
exigencieB  of  the  case  inasmuch  as  the  imperial  Caesar  is 
reputed  to  be  useful  in  stopping  a  crack  to  keep  the  wind  away. 
I  suspected  that  he  brought  in  the  blood-thirsty  old  Roman  in  a 
spirit  of  vexation  and  as  a  curt  way  of  expressing  contempt  for 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


28  COLLEGE  REVIVAL 

His  passion  for  souls  that  had  been  kindled  in  hia  Suck 
Spring  meetingB  burned  within  him  at  College.  He  set  his 
heart  upon  having  a  great  revival  of  religion  among  the  students 
and  it  was  characteristic  of  him  th&t  when  once  he  had  set 
for  himself  a  high  task  hia  soul  would  flame  with  the  purpoee 
to  accompUsh  it.  His  prayers  and  efforts  were  rewarded  and 
a  revival  broke  out  among  the  students.  Meetings  vers  held 
every  day  "and  nearly  every  student  was  brought  to  Christ" 
says  Rev.  W.  J.  Shipman,  one  of  the  students.  "He  (William 
E.  Hatcher)  was  the  prime  mover  in  this  revival  and  tiirough 
his  efforts  it  was  kept  up.  He  was  the  leader  and  he  was  the 
one  who  led  Joe  Turner  to  the  Saviour.  William  E.  Hatcher 
was  prominent  in  every  religious  movement  in  the  Coll^ 
while  he  was  there."  The  meetings  wrought  a  spintual  up- 
heaval in  the  College.  "They  produced  a  remarkable  effect 
upon  Collie  life"  said  Dr.  Ryland  and  in  later  years  William 
writes:  "The  memories  of  that  revival  would  fill  a  book  and 
rarely  do  they  ever  come  back  without  opening  the  fountains 
of  my  soul." 

One  Wednesday  night  he  attended  a  prayer  meeting  at 
the  Grace  Street  church  and  hia  little  trip  brought  to  him  a 
new  and  life-long  friend.  He  writes  regarding  Rev.  Geo.  B. 
Taylor: 

"Just  before  my  graduation  I  was  one  night  at  the  Grace 
Street  Church  prayer  meeting  and  found  this  young  minister 
present  with  bis  bride,  they  being  then  on  a  visit  to  his  parents. 
How  modestly  proud  he  was  as  he  presented  that  fair  treasure 
of  his  aoul  to  his  o|d  church  friends  and  was  met  with  joyous 
congratulations  on  every  side.  It  is  a  choice  memory  to  me 
that  in  some  way  he  singled  me  out  and  said  a  few  words  not  a 
bit  patronizing,  but  so  simple  and  ofThand  that  it  marked  an 
epoch  in  my  life.  I  went  out  with  a  new  glow  in  me — a  feeling 
of  comradeship  with  men  as  the  poadble  thing  to  come." 

Rev.  W.  J.  Shipman  says  in  a  letter  concemii^  William  E. 
Hatcher  that  he  "was  con^dered  a  student  of  superior  intellect." 
Dr.  Willingbam  who  knew  him  later  in  hfe  Bud  "be  had  the 
brightest  mind  of  any  man  I  ever  knew." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


GRADUATION  29 

"Rev.  Wm.  E.  Hatcher's  course  at  Richmond  Collie  (says 
the  Herald  quoting  from  "The  True  Index")  was  a  brilliant 
one,  closing  with  a  graduating  address  which  electrified  the 
audience  and  sent  many  of  them  home  with  the  sage  reflection 
"That  young  nkan  will  make  his  mark." 

This  reference  to  his  graduating  address  brings  us  to  the 
end  of  his  Collie  career.  "When  he  made  his  graduatu^ 
addreea  at  the  Commencemwit"  writes  Dr.  Richer  "he  captured 
the  audience  as  no  other  graduate  had  done  and  stepped  into 
enviable  prominence."  The  subject  of  his  address  was  "The 
Graduate."  He  emerged  from  College  with  his  field  of  labor 
already  chosen.  He  had  accepted  a  call  from  the  Baptist 
Church  in  Manchester — a  town  on  the  other  «de  of  the  river. 
Against  this  shabby  town  he  had  picked  up  a  violent  prejudice. 
In  describing  his  feelings  about  the  place  before  he  had  even 
thought  of  going  there  he  sfud :  '  'When  I  was  in  a  mood  to  make 
bad  wishes  against  anybody  I  wished  that  they  might  have  to 
hve  in  Manchester." 

After  the  College  Commencement  he  spent  a  month  with 
hifl  father  at  the  home  in  Bedford.  The  father  was  then  in  his 
76th  year.   William  writes: 

"We  were  much  together  and  yet,  blame  me  if  you  will,  not 
s  word  passed  about  my  pastorate  and  not  a  word  as  to  bis 
reli^ous  belief  or  his  mental  attitude  towWs  the  scriptures. 
At  times  I  had  twinges  of  self  reproach  and  f^t  a  wondering 
sense  of  responmbility;  but  somehow  I  could  not  get  my  Ups 
to  frame  the  words." 

Such  reluctance  to  speaking  to  other  members  of  the  family 
about  th^  reli^ous  condition  seems  to  have  been  a  Hatcher 
trait.  Dr.  Jeter  said  that  his  mother — ^who  was  a  sister  of 
William's  father, — never  spoke  to  him  about  b^i^  a  christian 
and  yet  he  sud  he  always  felt  that  she  was  praying  for  him. 
William  bade  his  father  and  family  good  bye,  closed  his  Bedford 
visit  and  hurried  to  Manchesto*,  there  to  b^;in  his  career  as 
pastor. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  IV 

FIRST  nUM  or  UANCHEBTBIt  FABTORATB 

1858-1861 

The  town  of  Manchester  seemed  like  a  blot  upon  the  map; 
and,  as  for  the  church,  it  lacked  almost  everything  except  a 
big  indebtedness. 

The  church  building  was  only  partially  completed.  |7,000 
worth  of  work  had  been  done  upon  it,  but  only  $1,500  had  been 
raised  to  pay  for  this  work.  In  addition  to  this,  the  church 
membership  was  demoralized  and  scattered. 

Bow  came  this  popular  young  minister  to  link  himself  with 
such  a  "foriom  hope"?  ITie  Preddent  of  the  Collie  thought 
he  had  committed  a  blunder. 

"The  awe  inspiring  president  of  the  College  ripped  me  up 
without  mercy  for  accepting  the  call,  assured  me  that  the 
worst  disasters  were  ahead  of  me  and  distinctly  hinted  to  me 
that  my  greatness  consisted  in  my  folly.  Not  even  his  relentless 
upbraidings  awoke  in  me  one  doubt  as  to  my  duty  to  take  up 
my  work  in  Manchester." 

With  this  conviction  he  entered  upon  his  pastorate.  It 
was  only  a  basement  room  in  which  his  church  could  meet 
and  work  and  there  on  the  first  Sunday  in  August  1858  he 
preached  his  first  sermon, — ^preached  it,  as  he  said,  "to  a  lot 
of  well  behaved  ^mpty  benches".  The  aght  of  the  Uttle 
woe-be^ne  handful  at  hia  first  service  sent  a  chill  through  his 
soul.  The  next  Sunday  was  hke  unto  the  first, — and  his 
efforts  seemed  a  mockery.     He  was  young,  had  never  had  a 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MANCHESTER  PASTORATE  31 

church  before  and  knew  next  to  nothing  about  pastoral  work. 
He  realized  that  he  had  a  crisis  on  his  hands  and  he  said  he 
felt  that  nothing  but  a  miracle  could  save  the  day. 

"That  week  I  took  myself  out  for  a  private  interview"  he 
said  "and  myself  and  I  went  over  the  situation  and  agreed  that 
it  was  grira  and  that  my  incompetence  was  grimmer.  We 
finally  got  together — that  is,  I  and  myself — and  passed  one 
resolution  to  the  effect  that  we  would  go  in  with  both  hands 
and  both  feet,  with  heart  and  soul,  day  and  night,  praying  all 
the  time  and  would  work  one  sohd  year  though  it  should  be 
on  empty  benches,  though  there  was  not  a  conversion,  not  a 
vidble  tear,  not  a  sign  nor  symptom  of  interest  or  progress 
during  all  that  time." 

Friday  night  was  the  time  for  his  weekly  prayer  meeting 
and  when  he  entered  the  room  he  was  surprised  to  find  such 
a  goodly  attendance  and  during  the  service, — Oh,  wonder  of 
wonders — a  young  woman  was  converted, — gloriously  con- 
verted while  he  was  speaking.  He  read"  the  fact  at  once  in  her 
radiant  face  and  streaming  tears.  It  melted  all  hearts  but 
it  was  merely  the  be^nning.  On  Sunday  the  pastor  preached 
with  a  new  fervor,  and  others  came  forward  to  tell  of  thdr 
faith  in  Christ.  A  revival  sprang  up  that  stirred  his  church 
and  the  town,  meetings  were  held  night  by  night  and  the 
membership  grew  from  35  to  more  than  a  hundred. 

He  next  turned  his  attention  to  the  $5,500  debt  restii^ 
upon  the  church  and  in  a  rapid,  ^gressive  campugn  he  raised 
the  entire  amount. 

The  auditorium  of  the  church  was  still  unfinished  and 
another  campaign,  therefore,  was  set  on  foot  and  in  a  short 
while  the  building  was  completed  and  pastor  and  people 
moved  up  into  their  new  and  larger  church  quarters. 

After  these  months  of  strain  he  hurried  away  to  his  beloved 
Bedford, — ^in  the  midst  of  winter.  He  felt  that  he  ought  to 
speak  to  bis  old  father  about  his  soul  and  about  bis  preparation 
for  the  other^'worldijfor^up  to  this  time  neverja^word  to  the 
old  man  about  his_reIigiou8  conditicoi  had  ever  passed  his  Ups. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


32  HIS  FATHER'S  TESTIMONY 

He  went  and  precious  days  he  had  with  hia  father,  but  the 
last  day  had  come  and  the  one  subject  above  all  others  had 
not  heen  mentioned  in  any  of  thar  conversationfl.  The  rest 
of  the  story  is  told  by  William. : 

"I  felt  so  much  the  pain  of  the  long  drawn  out  silence  between 
us.  I  was  to  leave  early  one  morning;  it  was  mid-winter,  and 
the  weather  was  rough,  and  the  station  was  fully  eight  miles 
away,  and  my  father  shocked  the  family  by  announcing  that 
he  would  take  me  to  the  station.  It  did  not  seem  to  be  a 
prudent  thing,  for  by  this  time  he  was  in  bis  8eventy<»xth 
year  and  walked  with  a  weakening  step.  But  he  had  a  will 
and  a  way  of  his  own  which,  while  rugged  and  decided,  was 
not  stormy  nor  harsh — only,  when  he  said  it  all  interrelation 
points  were  taken  down,  and  the  thing  was  settled. 

"I  recall  the  morning  that  we  moved  out  along  the  old  lane, 
and  how  unusually  sober  and  taciturn  be  seemed  to  be;  but 
after  we  turned  into  the  main  road,  he  said: 

"  'I  was  anxious  to  come  with  you  because  I  have  something 
to  say  to  you.' 

"He  told  me  then,  with  no  sign  of  fear,  but  with  some  tender 
symptoms  of  emotional  sorrow,  that  he  felt  that  Ms  strength 
was  fast  going  and  that  I  seemed  so  set  upon  my  work  that 
he  really  doubted  whether  he  would  ever  see  me  agtun,  and 
that  he  did  not  want  a  final  separation  until  he  had  made  a 
statement. 

"  'I  have  never  talked  with  you,  my  son,'  he  said,  veiy 
soberly,  'about  my  own  religious  outlook.  Perhaps  you  have 
thought  it  strange  that  I  did  not,  but  felt  that  I  ought  to  have 
trusted  you  more.' 

"  'No,  father,'  I  said,  'there  has  been  a  fellowship  between 
us.  I  cannot  say  that  I  know  the  secrets  of  your  heart,  but 
in  some  way  I  have  had  an  abounding  faith  in  you.  I  have 
sometimes  chided  myself  that  I  did  not  talk  with  you,  but  I 
always  justified  myself  by  the  thought  that  you  knew  me,  and 
I  knew  you.' 

"He  seemed  delighted.  He  brightened  up  gloriously,  and 
seemed  to  feel  that  he  was  put  on  a  better  footing,  and  th«a  his 
long  voiceless  faith  told  its  story.  He  said  that  in  the  long, 
far  back  past  he  was  stricken  with  conviction,  felt  the  need  of  a 
Saviour's  mercy,  and  that  while  out  in  the  farm  where  bis 
servants  were  working  be  found  his  trust  in  God,  and  was  made 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  FATHER'S  TESTTMONY  33 

to  rejoice  in  the  hope  of  eternal  life.  He  spoke  of  it  as  a  distinct, 
deci^ve,  and  unquestionable  experience,  and  from  that  dated 
his  christian  life.  He  s^d  that  at  Brst  he  was  so  startled  and  so 
stricken  with  a  sense  of  weakness  that  he  did  not  tell  it,  and 
that  silence  became  the  mood  of  his  new  experience.  He  totd 
me  tiao  that  at  the  time  he  much  desired  to  go  into  the  church, 
but  that  there  was  a  grievous  feud  raging  in  the  church  at  the 
time,  and  he  felt  that  it  would  not  help  him  spiritually  to  get 
into  the  atmosphere  of  the  wrangling.  I  could  but  respect  lum 
for  shrinking  away  from  such  an  unhealthy  church  atmosphere, 
and  in  my  later  life  I  have  had  occasion  to  question  whether 
it  was  desirable  that  a  young  christian  should  be  flung  into  the 
hostile  winds  of  a  church  strife.  I  know  that  my  heart  filled 
with  unutterable  sympathy  for  the  loneliness  of  his  christian 
life,  filled  with  a  feeling  that  it  was  better  to  tie  shut  out  than 
shut  in  with  a  church  life  that  could  not  nourish  and  protect 

"I  can  hardly  recall  the  things  that  were  said  at  that  point 
in  our  conversation,  but  I  do  know  that  in  that  morning  ride 
we  found  God's  time  for  our  talk.  I  had  intended  to  speak  to 
him  that  morning,  had  my  heart  fully  set  upon  doing  so,  but 
it  was  far  better  for  him  to  take  the  initiative  part,  and  it  was 
the  blessing  of  my  life  time  to  hear  him  with  such  brief,  common 
words,  and  with  such  rising  ardors  tell  of  the  peace  which  he 
had  had  in  God,  of  the  joy  that  he  had  had  in  prayer,  and  of  the 
sustaining  hope  that  tlien  filled  him,  and  of  his  readiness  to  go 
hence  whenever  his  Saviour  beckoned  him  to  come.  It  was 
plain,  old-time  religious  talk,  straight  out  of  his  heart,  broken 
a  littie  by  emotion  and  maybe  with  some  of  its  grammar  not 
in  its  best  form;  but  it  was  a  testimony  that  has  been  part  of 
the  heritage  of  this  world  to  me.  It  was  a  light  that  broke  out 
at  eventide  for  him  and  for  me  in  the  freshness  of  the  morning, 
"'But  there  is  one  thing  I  ought  to  tell  you,'  he  said,  'and 
tiiat  is  that  in  reviewing  my  religious  course,  I  am  not  satisfied. 
I  never  lost  my  faith,  I  never  lost  my  peace,  but  I  lost  much 
by  not  coming  out.  I  lost  baptism,  I  lost  fellowship  with  the 
good  people  in  the  church.  I  lost  my  christian  influence,  and 
I  feel  deeply  and  will  probably  feel  forever  that  I  lost  much  in 
the  other  world  by  not  doing  better  in  this.' 

'"The  sun  glowed  with  a  heaven  bom  luster  on  the  Bedford 
bills  as  we  had  ih&t  memorable,  that  delicious  conversation. 
It  put  songs  in  my  soul,  and  wtule  I  saw  the  moisture  on  his 
eyelids  when  he  ^oolc  hands  and  I  bounded  on  the  train,  I 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


34  MANCHESTER 

went  my  way  rejoicing.  I  had  what  I  had  longed  for.  My 
father  had  spoken,  and  I  was  satisfied.  Only  three  brief 
months  fled  away,  and  the  tidings,  too  slow  in  coming,  reached 
me  that  the  end  had  come,  and  I  saw  him  no  more." 

Two  great  religious  gatherings  were  held  in  Richmond 
during  May  uid  June.  The  first  was  the  Southern  Baptist 
Convention  composed  of  representative  Baptist  ministers  and 
laymen  from  all  the  Southern  states.  He  had  never  looked 
upon  this  large  body.  He  thus  describes  his  first  ught  of  the  dis- 
tinguished Dr.  Richard  Fuller.  It  occurred  on  the  opening 
night  of  the  Convention. 

"I  found  myself  on  that  lower  platform  fearfully  jammed  up 
agwnst  a  rugged  old  gentleman  with  a  touseled  head,  obstnidve 
features  and  an  eye  of  diamond  splendor  and  my  distinct 
impression  was  that  he  was  a  well-to-do  cattle  merchant  from 
the  mountains.  So  far  as  my  position  would  allow  I  listened 
with  interest  to  several  becoming  little  speeches  setting  forth 
the  claims  of  Dr.  Richard  Fuller  of  Baltimore  for  the  premdency. 
At  once  I  favored  his  election  for  it  would  enable  me  to  see 
him — he  at  that  time  being  the  most  eminent  pulpit  orator  in 
the  South.  He  was  chosen  without  opposition  and  my  surprise 
can  be  imagined  when  I  say  that  when  they  summoned  the 
Doctor  to  the  platform  to  assume  the  gavel,  my  oppressive 
mountaineer,  who  was  fast  exhausting  my  breath,  turned  out 
to  be  the  veritable  Dr.  Fuller.  I  had  private  as  well  as  public 
reasons  for  rejoicing  in  his  election." 

In  the  next  month  occurred  the  gathering  of  the  Viipnia 
Baptista  in  their  General  Association.  This  body  met  in  the 
city  of  Richmond  and  one  day  during  its  sessions  the  youthful 
pastor  from  Manchester  was  called  to  the  front  to  tell  of  the 
wonderful  blessings  that  had  come  upon  his  church. 

The  person  who  infiuenced  him  most  lai^ely  was  Dr.  J.  B. 
Jeter.  Durii^  the  summer  he  labored  with  the  Doctor  in 
revival  meetings.  This  aged  minister  was  of  noble,  com- 
ipunding  personality  with  high  mental  and  spiritual  ^ts 
and  his  young  cousin  seemed  to  imbibe  much  of  the  best 
that  was  in  the  old  xma.    But  this  did  not  obscure  William's 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MEETINGS  IN  AMELIA  AND  STAUNTON  35 

seoae  of  the  ludicrous — even  in  the  revival  meetings.    The 
meetings  were  in  Amelia  county.    He  s^d: 

"Almost  every  morning  Dr.  Jeter,  when  looking  over  his 
manuacripts  and  selecting  his  sermon  for  the  day,  would  refer 
rather  complacently  to  his  sermon  on  "The  Brazen  Serpent." 
It  was  evidently  ooe  of  bis  favorites.  It  had  done  valuable 
execution  in  his  Maaters  service  elsewhere  and  he  was  fond  of 
preaching  it.  He  spoke  of  it  to  me  so  often  that  I  said  to  him 
more  than  once:  "Bring  him  out;  give  us  your  'Brazen  Serpent' 
today."  But  he  did  not  do  so.  He  saved  that  for  his  last,  and 
as  I  bad  never  heard  it  I  supposed  it  would  be  his  best.  But 
it  proved  an  unlucky  day  for  the  brazen  serpent.  The  Doctor 
did  not  break  down  but  his  manner  was  painfully  stilted  and 
his  delivery  fri^d  and  feebla  Apparently  the  sermon  pro- 
duced no  effect.  I  was  a  little  slow  in  getting  out  to  the  dinner 
table  in  the  yard  and  when  I  reached  there  I  found  him  already 
on  hand  and  devouring  his  dinner  with  a  gusto  in  no  degree 
abated  by  the  disaster  of  the  morning.  He  met  me  as  I  walked 
up  and  with  a  grim  and  comical  twinkle  in  his  eye  said:  'Well 
after  all  my  brazen  serpent  proved  a  flash  in  the  pan.' 

"As  I  was  booked  for  a  sermon  that  afternoon  and  waa  very 
anxious  to  put  him  in  aa  a  substitute  I  was  bold  enough  to  say' 
to  him: 

"  'I  admit  that  the  Brazen  Serpent  did  not  go  well  but  you 
ought  to  preach  again  before  leaving  the  community  and  I  want 
you  to  preach  this  afternoon.' 

"  'Ah;  I  may  go  from  bad  to  worse'  he  said  in  melancholy  tone 
and  yet  with  the  smile  not  yet  faded  from  his  face  and  theo 
after  a  little  reflection  he  ventured: 

"  'Well  I  will  take  a  turn  in  the  bushes  and  will  see  if  I  can 
beat  up  another  sermon.' 

"He  preached  that  afternoon  on  'The  Woman  that  was  a 
innner'  and  it  was  a  sermon  of  irresistible  power." 

It  was  during  this  same  Summer  that  there  awoke  within 
him  an  aspiration  to  use  bis  pen  for  the  pubhc  press  and  the 
pubUc  benefit.  It  came  about  in  this  way.  Rev,  George  B. 
Taylor,  who  -has  already  been  referred  to  in  these  pages  88 
having  twice  crossed  the  path  of  the  youthful  William — each 
time  with  happy  effect — ,  was  at  this  time  pastor  of  the  Stauntrai 
Baptist  Church  and  invited  his  friend  William  K.  Hatcher  to 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


36  LITERAHY  AMBITION 

aid  him  in  meetings  at  his  church.  Mr.  Hatcher  w^t  and 
writes  concerning  his  delightful  viat.  His  words  may  well  be 
studied  for  they  indicate  some  of  the  ideals  that  were  Uien 
forming  in  his  soul.  Regarding  Mr.  Taylor's  invitation  he 
writes: 

"With  ill-concealed  rapture  I  accepted  the  call  and  in  due 
season  I  went.  As  I  look  back  and  measure  the  motive  of  my 
going  I  have  to  say  that  my  longing  for  companionship  with 
him  play^  no  small  part.  I  felt  that  there  was  a  rich  treasure 
in  him  for  me.  He  knew  ao  much  that  I  knew  not  and  knew 
it  in  such  a  way  as  I  was  eager  to  learn.  ...  He  stirred  me 
by  iiis  luminous  talk  about  books.  Then,  too,  he  was  growing 
fast  aa  a  writer  and  by  my  contact  with  him,  rather  than  by  any 
words  of  bis,  I  found  myself  inflamed  with  a  new  ambition  to 
put  my  pen  to  use  in  a  literary  and  reh^ous  way.  .  .  .  How 
my  soul  reveled  in  himl  He  put  a  storm  of  new  thoughts 
flowii^  over  my  head  and  heart  and  the  influence  of  it  aerer 
went  out." 

The  most  fflgniScant  words  m  the  above  communication 
are  those  referring  to  liis  ambition  to  use  his  pen  for  the  public 
service.  It  is  not  his  love  of  writing  to  which  he  refeni  for 
that  literary  aspiration  seems  to  have  been  in  him  from  child- 
hood. "The  love  of  compoffltion"  says  he  "was  inherent  in 
me  and  the  thought  that  I  might  see  at  some  time  some  pro- 
duction from  my  pen  burned  aa  a  flame  in  my  soul  in  my 
youthful  days."  Such  a  desire  has  glowed  in  many  a  soul. 
Byron  writes  in  pl^ul  fashion: 

"Us  pleasant  sure  to  see  one's  name  in  print. 
A  book's  a  book  although  there's  nothii^  in  it." 

Mr.  Hatcher  naturally  loved  to  build  up  sentences.  "We 
have  great  respect"  he  writes  "for  the  man  who  writes  from 
a  genuine  passion  for  composition."  His  Staunton  visit 
seemed  to  awake  in  him  an  ambition  to  use  his  poi  for  higher 
purposes  than  his  own  gratification.  He  resolved  tb  use  it — as 
be  expresses  it — "in  a  literary  and  religious  way".    Hoiceforth 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  BUSY  PASTOR  37 

bis  pen  was  destined  to  become  an  instrumeot  of  cheer  and 
blessing  to  thousands  and  thousands  of  readers. 

He  had  had  no  home  of  his  own  up  to  this  time  but  the  coming 
of  his  widdwed  sister  with  her  h^py  hearted  daughter  linked 
than  together  in  a  house  keeping  arrangement  that  provided 
a  home  for  the  three  under  veiy  delightful  conditions. 

But  the  young  pastor  had  a  task  that  sorely  tested  bis 
leadership.  His  church  membership,  instead  of  being  a  homo- 
geneous body,  was  a  conglomeration. 

"Our  choir  leader  was  turned  out  for  habitual  cruelty  to  his 
wife.  Our  clerk  was  found  to  be  spending  many  of  his  nights 
at  the  card  table.  Our  senior  deacon  who  collected  the  money 
for  my  salary  had  his  drunken  sprees  much  more  regularly 
than  he  paid  me  my  salary  and  the  most  prominent  woman  of 
the  church  had  almost  infinite  genius  for  breeding  disorders." 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  Baptist  Church  re- 
sembled a  bee  hive  in  activity.  Every  night  the  lights  burned 
brightly  in  the  building  and  the  young  pastor  was  on  hand 
with  some  sacred  device  for  attracting  the  young  people, 
satisfying  thdr  social  aspirations,  disciplining  them  in  Bible 
study  and  enlisting  them  in  Christian  service. 

He  taught  a  Sinfpng  Class  on  Thursday  nights  and  on 
Sundays  be  was  the  ch<Mr  leader  as  well  aa  the  preacher.  His 
friend,  John  R.  Bagby,  still  a  student  at  the  College,  and 
bimself  a  muacian  would  come  over  and  help  him  with  his 
music  and  t<^ther  they  would  often  take  up  a  new  soi^ 
book  and  sing  it  through  at  one  time.  A  Debating  Society 
among  bis  young  people  was  organized  which  became  quite 
famous  in  .the  town  and  which  received  frequent  noUce  in  the 
Rictmumd  p^wrs.  As  for  the  devotion  of  the  m^nbers,  a 
lady  writes:  "A  number  of  tbem  seldom  drew  thdr  pay  on 
Saturday  night  that  they  did  not  buy  something  to  send  to 
tbdr  pastor." 

But  already  one  of  the  most  powerful  forces  within  his 
soul  had  b^un  to  manifest  itself, — his  love  for  boys.      All 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


38  WORK  WITH  BOYS 

classes  of  people  gained  his  interest  and  for  them  he  would 
make  sacrifices,  but  he  would  go  the  farthest  length  for  boys, — 
especially  those  whose  lot  was  narrow  and  lonely.  He  had 
them  in  his  home,  in  his  study,  in  his  walks.  Often  he  would 
have  them  spend  a  night,  or  a  week, — sometimes  to  stay 
indefinitely,  as  in  the  case  of  Harvey  Nunually  and  others. 
Dr.  C.  V.  Waugh,  of  Florida,  now  an  honored  minister,  was 
one  of  these  boys  and  he  writes: 

"No  mortal  can  ever  know  what  he  was  to  me.  ...  I  love 
him  next  to  my  own  dear  mother.  He  showed  me  my  life's 
work  and  helped  me  in  so  many  ways  to  get  ready  for  it.  ■  .  . 
As  long  as  I  live  I  shall  incarnate  him  in  me  all  I  can." 

The  dght  of  a  boy  touched  the  deepest  Eiprings  of  his 
sympathy.    Why  was  this?   He  writes: 

"Possibly  it  was  the  hardships  of  my  boyhood,  my  loneli- 
ness without  a  mother,  my  bothers  about  an  education,  the 
perplexities  of  my  religious  struggles  and  withal  some  heavenly 
suggestion  unheard  but  powerfully  felt,  that  kindled  from  the 
beginning  of  my  ministry  a  pecuhar  interest  in  boys.  My 
consciousness  of  it  was  in  revivals  and  every  boy  that  evinced 
decided  interest  in  reli^on  instantly  grappled  me." 

He  organized  a  Boy's  Meeting  which  became  a  bright  spot 
in  the  life  of  many  a  neglected  lad. 

His  second  Summer  arrived  and  again  he  hied  himself 
away  to  the  country, — this  time  to  hold  a  scries  of  revival 
meetings  at  the  Fine  Creek  Church  with  Rev.  P.  S.  Henson. 
"William  E.  Hatcher  and  P.  S.  Henson  were  both  distinguished 
preachers  at  that  early  day"  writes  Dr.  Geo.  W.  Hyde.  "They 
were  both  exceedingly  popular.  These  noble  preachers  held 
forth  to  great  audiences  for  about  ten  days."  Some  happy 
sequels  were  to  follow  from  these  meetings. 

A  bit  of  news  reached  him  one  day  in  Manchester  that  filled 
his  sky  with  blackness.  It  was  his  first  experience  of  the  kind 
and  he  thought  that  the  end  of  his  ministry  had  come. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


STARTLED  BY  A  RUMOE  39 

"For  a  time  I  never  dreamed  that  I  could  outlive  it,"  be 
writes.  "A  big,  rugged  fellow  turned  the  rumor  into  the  street 
that  he  had  seen  me  in  one  of  the  most  disorderly  bar  rooms  in 
Richmond  and  in  my  simplicity  I  believed  that  everybody 
would  believe  it  and  I  had  hours  of  entirely  unnecessary 
anguish  about  it,  although  I  knew  that  I  had  never  crossed  the 
threshold  of  a  bar  room.  The  rumor  dissolved  and  I  survived 
and  I  b^an  to  le&m  that,  as  a  rule,  slander  will  cure  itself  if 
you  will  only  give  it  time." 

From  that  day  he  seems  to  have  adopted  the  policy  of 
ignoring  his  slanderers — resolving  that  while  be  would  look 
after  tus  character,  hia  reputation  he  would  leave  in  the  bands 
of  God  and  of  his  friends. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   CIVIL  VAR.      HARRUaE.      REVIVAL  EXPERIENCES. 

1861-1866 

But  the  little  squalls  that  had  shaken  his  pastoral  skiff 
were  but  funt  breezes  compared  with  the  tempest  that  was 
gathering  over  his  head.  War  between  the  North  and  the 
South  seemed  imminent.  This  young  pastor  had  lused  his 
wanun^  in  his  address  at  the  Grace  Street  Sunday  School 
three  or  four  years  previously.  For  months  he  had  detected 
the  mutterings  of  the  coming  storm  and  he  knew  Richmond 
would  be  the  center  of  it  and  as  he  stood  at  the  head  of  his 
little  flock  he  often  trembled  and  cast  anxious  glances  out 
into  the  future. 

The  news  came  that  South  Carolina  and  other  states  had 
severed  their  connection  with  the  United  States  Government. 
The  North  called  such  action  rebelUon.  The  whole  country 
was  growing  restless  and  the  days  arrived  for  Virginia  to 
cast  her  vote  either  in  favor  of  seceding  from  the  Union,  or 
ag^nst  it.  The  Memorable  "Seceaaon  Convention"  assembled 
in  Richmond,  and  the  eyes  of  the  South  were  turned  thither 
awaiting  the  verdict.  Mr.  Hatcher  hurried  over  with  anxious 
steps  to  the  Capitol  and  was  in  the  jam  and  surge  of  the  gallery 
crowd  on  that  eventful  day.  He  saw  the  Convention — saw 
the  final,  mighty  effort  to  avert  the  spht  from  the  Union — 
and  then  he  heard  the  Convention's  fateful  deci^n  for, — 
Secession,  and  a  few  days  later  he  saw  the  war  cloud  burst 
upon  Richmond.  "Ah  what  was  it"  says  he  "of  battle,  of 
tragedy,  of  victory,  or  suffering,  or  destitution,  or  wreck  that 
I  did  not  see  during  those  pregnant  and  historic  years." 
40 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  TRAGEDIES  OF  WAR  41 

An  entirely  new  situation  now  confronted  him.  His  church 
work  of  the  past  three  years,  so  eminently  fruitful,  seemed  in 
danger  of  being  torn  up  by  the  roots.  The  men  were  being 
hurried  into  the  army,  the  women  were  busy  with  sewing  and 
other  preparations  for  their  departii^  husbands  and  sons; 
and  tiie  dominant  thought  was  not  religion,  but  war.  In  the 
meantime,  the  multitudes  were  flocking  into  Richmond  which 
soon  became  the  headquarters  of  the  Southern  anny  and 
of  the  new  Southern  government,  and  Manchester  had  to 
accommodate  the  overflow  and  to  serve  as  a  tramping  ground 
and  the  youi^  pastor  found  himself  caught  in  the  maelstrom 
of  new  and  bewildering  taska.  Not  only  did  his  agitat«d 
members,  and  the  constant  stream  of  strangers  in  his  con- 
gregation, demand  his  attenUon;  not  only  did  he  seek  to  main- 
tain some  semblence  of  church  work,  but  the  woimded  ones 
in  the  hospitals,  the  sorrowing  ones  in  the  community,  had  to 
be  visited  and  nunistered  to  and  the  final  words  had  to  be 
spoken  over  the  dead.-  The  booming  of  the  cannon  around 
Richmond  and  the  continuous  passing  of  the  soldiers  through 
the  town  kept  the  people  excited  and  often  idle  and  reckless. 

He  lived  rapidly  during  these  fri^tful  days  and  tragedies 
were  his  constant  companions.  For  example,  he  tells  of  a 
bright,  beautiful  boy  in  Bedford,  who  had  been  converted  in 
his  Suck  Springs  meetings  and  who  just  before  the  war  had 
informed  Mr.  Hatcher  of  bis  decision  to  prepare  himself  for 
the  nunistry.  "He  furly  shouted  at  the  sight  of  me"  says 
Mr.  Hatcher  "drew  me  from  the  slu^^sh  train  and  breathed 
to  me  the  story  which  burned  as  a  fire  in  his  heart."  And 
then  came  the  tragedyl  The  war  blast  rai^  throi^  the 
state;  this  youth  responded,  fell  a  victim  to  measles  in  the 
trenches  around  Bichmond,  "died  ingloriously  in  the  hospital" 
and  to  the  Manchester  pastor  came  the  harrowing  experience 
of  following  the  yomig  man's  body  to  his  Bedford  home  and 
seeking  to  give  comfort  where  the  light  of  the  family  had 
gone  out.  Simply  one  specimen  was  this  of  the  desolations 
that  were  ploughing  his  heart  month  by  month. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


42  THE  DAYS  OF  WAR 

The  people  were  beipnub^  to  feel  the  pinch  of  the  war.  It 
looked  as  if  everything  had  to  go  to  Uie  soldiers,  and  the  folks 
at  home  lived  on  a  scrimpy  margiin. 

"There  were  no  schools,  no  factories,  no  new  buildings,  no 
furniture  stores,  no  dry  goods  stores,  few  places  for  buying 
plows,  or  wagons,  or  carriages.  What  we  had  was  wearing  out 
and  'twas  hard  to  find  any  more,  even  if  we  had  money  to  buy 
them  with. 

"The  women  attended  no  new  Spring  Openings  and  heard 
of  no  such  thing  as  bargain  counters.  ...  I  knew  one 
pastor  who  said  he  was  welt  acquainted  with  every  bonnet  and 
hat  in  his  congregation  and  that  there  was  scarcely  one  that 
he  had  not  known  for  several  years.  They  might  be  changed, 
re-dyed,  or  trimmed  up  in  new  colors,  but  they  lingered  all 
through  the  war." 

The  war  had  ita  compensations,  however.  In  November 
1862  a  glorious  revival  broke  upon  his  church  and  ran  its 
course  for  many  weeks,  continuing  through  Christmas  and 
far  mto  January,  the  Herald  of  January  8th,  1863  reporting 
"There  have  been  115  professions  of  convermona  at  the 
Manchester  Baptist  Church  and  the  meeting  is  still  in  progress." 

"The  first  time  this  writer's  attention  was  called  to  Rev. 
W.  E.  Hatcher,"  writes  Mr.  Jeffries  of  Warrenton  "was  when 
he  was  in  co-operation  with  Rev.  J.  Wm,  Jones,  John  A. 
Broadus,  A.  E.  Dickinson,  Dr.  Doj^ett  and  others  in  their 
religious  work  with  the  Confederate  soldiers  when  they  were 
near  to  Richmond.    .    .    ." 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  frequently  his  revival  campugns 
with  other  ministers  would  be  attended  with  some  amusing 
experience.  There  seemed  to  be  in  his  nature  something  that 
reacted  from  a  too  prolonged,  serious  str^.  In  fact  the 
solemn  seems  to  lie  along  the  border  of  the  comical  and  if  it 
is  an  easy  passage  from  a  tear  to  a  smile  it  is  also  true  that 
in  many  of  his  str^ning  evangelistic  seasons  he  would  see 
somethii^  odd,  or  ludicrous. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  PASTOR  IN  LOVE  43 

He  went  to  the  assistance  of  a  young  ministerial  friend  in 
the  country, — to  aid  him  in  revival  meetii^  at  his  church. 
He  threv  himself  ard«itiy  into  the  campaign  and  the  meeting 
started  off  well.    But  there  was  trouble  brewing. 

"A  dulness  clutched  the  situation.  You  could  feel  it.  It 
grew  on  apace  until  it  scared  me  to  preach — in  fact  I  could  not 
preach.  My  sermons  dragged  and  lumbered  and  gave  out 
neither  beat  nor  light.  I  told  the  pastor  that  either  I  had  lost 
my  religioD,  or  someone  else  had.  But  in  my  heart  I  was 
suffering.  It  cut  me  to  the  marrow  in  my  bones  to  see  things 
ful  so.  My  sleep  forsook  my  eyehds,  and  I  made  an  August 
night  forty  hours  long  with  my  groanings.  Dayhght  found 
me  red  of  eye,  full  of  fidgets  and  set  an  finding  out  something. 
I  found  it. 

"The  pastor  was  a  College  mate  and  we  were  chums.  As 
a  rule  my  chums  are  like  popes  and  kings — infallible  to  me. 
I  had  no  reproach  for  my  chum,  though  he  did  strain  me  by 
his  lack  of  fervor  in  the  meeting.  He  was  too  congenial  with  a 
fulure  to  suit  my  standards,  and  more  so  now  because  he 
was  not  always  that  way.  But  still  I  do  not  believe  that  I 
suspected  him.  One  afternoon  another  man  preached — 
preached  forcibly  and  with  effect.  I  sat  in  the  comer  near  the 
pulpit,  and  the  pastor  was  in  the  pulpit.  When  I  looked  at 
the  man  preaching  I  had  the  pastor  in  the  line  of  my  vision. 
I  saw  that  he  was  not  listening  to  the  sermon.  It  got  on  to  me 
hard  as  I  saw  his  wilful  inattention  and  I  was  distressed  but 
not  in  an  accusing  mood. 

"After  awhile  I  saw  that  his  gaze  went  often  along  a  line 
which  led  to  a  certain  window  seat  over  on  the  ladies'  side. 
His  look  was  most  absorbed  and  was  attended  with  smiles — 
very  tender  and  meaningful  smiles.  Candor  forces  me  to  say 
that  I  did  not  follow  th^t  line  along  which  the  pastor's  en- 
chanted glances  sped  so  steadily — not  until  the  congr^ation 
was  ^nging  the  doxology.  Then  I  looked  and  I  saw  a  sight  a 
very  fair  sight  indeed,  but  a  sight  which  told  a  story.  It  was 
upon  a  young  woman  with  black  eyes  and  cheeks  of  rose  that 
the  young  pastor  had  been  gazing  to  the  absolute  n^lect  of 
the  sermon.  It  was  a  case  of  too  much  sweetheart  for  him  to 
be  wrapped  in  revival  flames. 

"The  spirit  of  the  reformer  was  upon  me.  I  invited  the 
offender  to  a  stroll  down  by  the  milldam,  and  throttled  him, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


44  A  EIFT  IN  THE  CLOUD 

cruahing  him  as  best  I  could  Trith  my  fierce  accusationa.  He 
denied  quite  vaguely  and  largely,  but  in  as  guilty  a  way  as  you 
ever  saw.  He  did,  however,  admit  that  he  was  an  adorer  of  the 
young  woman  and  with  that  he  dropped  all  of  hia  defences, 
except  that  he  thought  it  due  to  himself  to  say  that  the  young 
woman  in  question  was  the  jewel  of  all  creation  and  that  his 
thoughts  were  running  her  way.  I  grew  authoritative  and 
said  things.  On  general  principles  I  granted  that  love  was 
beautiful  and  marriage  honorable  entirely,  but  that  for  a  young 
preacher  to  allow  himself  to  be  enmeshed  in  a  revival  meeting 
and  jerked  into  a  love  scrape  was  unseemly  and  alnful.  I 
expressed  a  purpose  to  take  the  next  boat  but  be  flew  wild 
i^ainst  it.  Finally,  I  compromised  to  the  point  of  agreeing 
that  if  he  would  blow  the  matter  out  of  mind,  pledge  himself 
to  give  his  attention  wholly  to  the  meeting  and  covenant  not 
to  say  anything  in  the  remotest  way  to  the  girl  until  the  meeting 
was  over,  I  would  remain.  To  this  he  agreed,— in  rather  an 
impenitent  spirit  I  must  admit. 

"After  this  Eigreement  we  strolled  to  the  house  where  the 
young  damsel  lived,  and  the  pastor  clandestinely  communicated 
with  the  young  lady  and  asked  to  see  her  in  the  parlor  alone, 
at  once.  He  related  to  her  the  whole  matter  including  hia 
pledge  made  to  me,  and  then  added:  "I  wish  to  say  to  you  that 
I  fully  intended  to  propose  marriage  to  you  this  day  but,  this 
being  rendered  impossible  by  my  pledge,  I  wish  to  notify  you 
that  as  soon  as  the  meeting  closes  I  fully  intend  to  court  you." 

"The  meeting  dropped  to  an  early  demise,  and  in  five  months 
the  couple  were  living  in  matrimonial  bliss  on  six  hundred  a 
year,  Confederate  money,  valued  at  two  cents  and  a  half  in 
gold  to  the  dollar.  They  did  well,  but  they  killed  that  meeting." 

In  the  Summer  of  1864  there  appeared  a  rift  in  the  cloud 
for  the  young  pastor.  While  attending  an  Asaociaticot  in 
Buckingham  County  he  was  introduced  to  a  young  lady  from 
Fork  Union, — Miss  Virginia  Snead— a  recent  graduate  from 
the  Albemarle  Female  Institute.  She,  with  a  party  of  young 
people,  had  driven  over  to  the  meetings.  In  the  company 
was  Mr.  Pumphrey  Seay  who  had  known  Mr.  Hatcher  at 
College,  and  during  the  intermission  he  brought  the  Manchester 
pastor  up  to  the  dinner  table  and  presented  him  to  Miss 
Snead.    That  afternoon  Mr.  Hatcher  preached  in  the  church. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  RIFT  IN  THE  CLOUD  45 

The  buildup;  was  crowded  and  Miss  Snead  sat  on  the  back 
baicb  where  the  noises  coming  from  the  loud  talking  out  in 
the  yard  made  it  difficult  for  those  in  the  rear  to  heiir,  but  she 
found  herself  making  earnest  effort  to  catch  the  words  of  the 
preacher.  His  text  was  "God  is  iove"  and  "every  word  seemed 
f^pealii^.  At  that  time  he  was  slim  and  weighed  about  140 
pounds.  His  hair  was  aubum  of  a  reddish  tint;  his  eye  was 
his  beet  feature.  In  the  discusaons  he  was  oft^i  called  out 
to  give  his  views  and  flashes  of  humor  would  break  forth  in 
his  t^illfa  and  addresses." 

The  fur  vidtor  from  Fork  Union  attracted  him  and  in  a 
few  weeks  he  found  himself  at  Fork  Union  attending  the 
Albemarle  Association  and  was  Kitertfuned  at  the  home  of 
Mr.  George  H.  Snead,  the  father  of  his  recent  acqufuntance. 

At  the  invitation  of  the  pastor  he  held  revival  meetings 
at  the  Fork  Church.  "He  was  a  great  favorite.  All  were 
eager  to  entertain  him.  Crowds  of  young  people  went  to 
tspead  the  evenii^  where  he  went." 

While  holding  the  meetings  at  Fork  Union  he  stayed  much  at 
the  home  of  Miss  Snead,  but  he  was  very  guarded  in  his  move- 
ments. Already  he  had  spoken  to  her  the  fateful  words  and 
received  her  affirmative  response,  but  they  were  anxious  to 
ke^  their  engagesnent  from  being  bruited  around  in  the 
community  to  the  injury  of  the  meetings.  He  talked  to  the 
other  members  of  the  company  each  evening  rather  than  to 
her  and  yet  he  wrote  her  a  letter  every  night.  The  secret 
was  kept  until  after  the  meetings  were  over  and  the  announce- 
ment was  then  made  of  the  approaching  marriage  on  December 
22nd. 

In  one  of  his  letters  to  his  fiancee  he  writes  as  follows: 

"Manchesteii,  Va.,  November  10,  1864. 
"Dear  Jennie, — 'nme  is  unfolding  startling  scenes  in  my 
domestic  drama.  Four  months  ago  I  could  hardly  have 
imagined  that  aught  could  disturb  the  profound  current  of 
family  quiet.  Change  in  its  wide  spread  ravages  seemed 
willing  to  pass  my  home  untouched.    But  we  are  touched. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


46  LETTER  TO  BIS  FIANCEE 

Love  has  struck  a  blow  at  us  and  we  are,  as  huntsmen  say, 
Sushed.  Lest  I  should  bewilder  you  by  such  a  frightful  pre- 
amble, I'll  explain. 

"There  is  no  need  that  I  should  apprize  you  of  the  fact  that 
your  humble  servant  has  fallen  an  untimely,  if  not  unwilijng, 
victim  of  love.  I  am,  like  Jonah,  fairly  caught,  but  pray  that 
I  may  not  like  him  be  thrown  overboard.  It  is  not,  however,  of 
myself  that  I  wish  just  now  to  write.    Here  is  the  point.:     .     ." 

After  writing  of  certain  suggested  housekeeping  plans  he 
thus  continues. 

"Let  us  think  of  each  other — often  and  earnestly  let  us  pray 
for  each  otlier.  If  God  permits  our  union  I  pray  that  it  may 
be  for  his  glory.  We  can  make  each  other  very  happy,  or  very 
miserable,  just  as  we  choose.  All  of  our  future  is  before  us. 
Can  we  spend  it  without  a  harsh  word,  or  an  unkindly  thought? 

"Our  feelings,  hopes  and  plans  must  be  one.  No  earthly 
object  is  to  come  between  us.  Errors  will  crop  out  now  and 
then.  With  gentle  sympathy,  mingled  with  true  candor,  we 
must  seek  to  extract  them.  I  deny  the  blindness  of  true  love. 
If  it  be  blind,  I  am  a  stranger  to  it.  It  can  not  be  so,  for  true 
love  is  founded  on  true  appreciation  of  character  and  has  the 
sanction  of  taste  and  judgment.  It  is  quick  to  see  faults  in 
its  object  and,  if  conscientious,  is  anxious  to  correct  them.  But 
if  it  is  quick  of  eye  it  is  also  tender  of  heart  and  slow  of  speech. 
Its  voice  of  chidings  is  as  gentle  as  its  breathings  of  devotion 
and  love.  You  will  be  my  pride,  I  revel  in  the  happmesB  of 
my  love  and,  if  not  a  christian,  would  gloat  over  the  woes  of  my 
enemies.    Now  I  pray  for  them." 

The  remainder  of  this  letter  is  lost.  The  letter  was  written 
in  pencil  on  very  plfun,  yellow  p^ier  such  as  was  used  in  those 
war-ridden  days;  the  hand-writing  is  natural  and  pl^.  At 
the  time  ot  making  his  avowal  of  love  he  said  to  her  that  she 
would  be  to  him  "the  first  and  only  one,"  and  yet  he  asked 
that  she  would  not  hinder  him  in  doing  his  duty  as  a  minister 
and  not  come  between  him  and  his  God.  The  motto  which 
be  selected  for  the  wedding  ring  was  characteristic; 
"Heaven  smiles  and  claims  us." 

It  was  a  merry  and  distinguished  group  that  met  Mr.  Hatcher 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  MARRIAGE  47 

one  aftemooD  in  Bichmond  at  the  Packet  wharf  about  the 
21flt  of  December,  1864,  to  accompany  him  on  the  boat  to 
Fluvanna  to  take  part  in  the  wedding  festivities.  This 
company  included  the  following  ministers:  J.  B.  Jeter,  Charles 
H.  Rylaud,  A.  B.  Woodfin,  John  R.  Bagby  and  Harvey  Hatcher, 
Rev.  Geo.  W.  Hyde,  who  expected  to  join  the  party  at  Dover, 
writes: 

"When  the  night  came  for  me  to  meet  the  canal  boat  at  Dover 
I  was  sick  in  bed.  I  lay  and  heard  the  horn  of  the  man,  who 
rode  the  canal  boat's  horses,  as  he  blew  and  blew  and  blew  for  a 
long  time.  My  heart  ached  and  my  eyes  filled  with  teats  over 
tiie  diaappointm^t;  but  I  could  not  join  that  happy  wedding 
party  of  our  dear  friends  that  night  on  their  way  to  Fluvanna 
county." 

Brightly  shone  the  sun  on  the  httle  village  of  Fork  Union 
on  Dec.  22nd,  and  even  grim  war  seemed  to  withdraw  its  pall 
while  Dr.  J.  B.  Jeter  and  the  pastor,  Rev.  W.  A.  Whit«scarver, 
sealed  the  happy  vows. 

The  Southern  "blockade"  prevented  a  wedding  tour  and 
the  people  of  the  community  seemed  to  vie  with  one  another 
in  thar  congratulations  and  hospitalities  as  the  wedding  party 
wNit  from  home  to  home.  The  Manchester  church  was 
of  course  on  tiptoe  of  expectancy  ready  with  a  happy  welcome 
to  greet  tiieir  pastor  and  his  bride. 

The  war  played  curious  pranks.  For  example,  the  Con- 
federate money  was  already  rapidly  depreciating  and  Mr. 
Hatcher  in  describmg  his  purchases  before  his  marriage  said : 

"My  ambition  flamed  up  to  the  extent  of  giving  my  bride  a 
watch  and  I  went  to  the  beat  jeweler  in  Richmond  so  far  as  I 
knew  and  found  that  he  had  only  three  watches  in  stock;  one 
was  new  and  it  was  ravishing  to  look  at  but  its  price  mounted 
far  out  of  my  sight  and  I  had  to  choose  between  the  other  two, 
both  of  which  were  second  hand.  I  took  the  smallest  and  gave 
ax  hundred  dollars  for  it  but  I  can  testify  that  it  never  respected 
its  owner  and  after  a  day  or  two  refused  to  take  any  note  of 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


48  THE  FALL  OF  RICHMOND 

"They  trumped  up  a  skeletonian  reception  ob  the  day  that 
the  bridal  party  reached  my  home  and  the  only  fact — whit^ 
was  probably  the  only  fat  fact — I  remember  was  that  the 
turkey  which  constituted  the  pre-eminent  luxury  of  the  day 
cost  forty-six  dollars  and  we  were  proud  to  get  it  at  that." 

But  what  of  the  war? 

The  climax  was  near  at  hand  and  it  meant  crushing  sorrows 
for  Mr.  Hatcher  and  his  young  bride.  For  nearly  four  stressful 
years  he  had  kept  his  flag  of  hope  unfurled  before  his  people. 
During  the  past  weeks  however  distressing  news  had  trickled 
in  from  the  "front,"  but  even  yet  he  and  those  around  him  did 
not  deeptur.  The  long  thin  lines  of  Lee'a  army  were  still 
stretched  around  Peteraburg,  not  far  away,  but  this  was  all 
that  stood  between  Richmond  and  the  enemy.  In  a  few  days 
the  crash  of  doom  was  beard. 

It  was  Sunday  April  2nd,  and  "a  fairer  day  never  blessed 
the  earth,"  writes  Mr.  Hatcher.  In  company  with  others  he 
was  standing  in  his  church  yard.  A  man  was  seen  hurrying 
towards  them  and  as  be  came  in  front  of  the  church  he  called 
out:  "Bad  news  from  Petersburg;  Lee's  lines  wero  broken 
today  and  his  army  is  reported  in  full  retreat;  Richmond  to 
be  evacuated  tonight."  With  this  announcement  flung  at 
the  churoh  yard  group  the  man  quickly  disappeared. 

"Instant  blackness"  said  Mr.  Hatcher  "covered  the  earth. 
A  pain,  as  of  death,  shot  through  my  heart  and  in  that  dread 
moment  I  knew  that  our  cause  was  lost." 

The  company  in  the  churah  yard  vanished  and  Mr.  Hatcher 
turned  his  steps  towards  Bichmond  and  what  a  spectacle 
there  met  his  eye, — ^wagons,  carts  and  carriages  filling  up  with 
furniture,  merehandise  and  articles  innumerable.  Panic  ruled 
the  hour  and  Richmond  seemed  to  be  emptying  itself  of  all 
of  its  most  sacred  treasures  and  preparii^  for  its  bitter  flight. 

"My  walk  back  to  Manchester"  he  said  "withered  me  into 
old  i^.  It  was  simply  one  colossal  coUapse.  I  was  a  man  with 
out  a  country,  without  a  hope  and  almost  without  God  m 
the  world." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


FACING  A  CRISIS  49 

Hie  own  town,  as  he  returned  to  it,  presented  a  dght  equally 
as  sickening;  and  as  for  that  night  which  followed — he  said 
the  story  of  it  could  never  be  told,  with  its  weeping  women, 
its  riotous  negroes  and  its  hurrying  columns  of  the  retreating 
army.  Next  morning  the  torch  was  applied  to  Richmond  and  he 
withessed  the  fiames  as  they  were  fanned  into  a  conflagration. 
In  the  meantime,  the  Northern  army  b^an  its  rush  into 
Richmond,  and  in  Manchester  the  negroes  and  lawless  whites 
began  their  mad  camiva!. 

The  young  pastor  faced  a  crias.  His  army  was  gone, — fast 
hurrying  southwards — and  he  suddenly  found  himself  in  strange 
and  threatening  surroundings.  What  should  be  do?  He 
called  for  a  meeting  of  the  town  Council.  It  was  composed 
largely  of  old  men.  He  reminded  them  of  the  necessity  of 
something  being  done  immediately  to  stem  the  tide  of  anarchy 
and  to  set  up  some  form  of  order  in  the  town.  The  old  men 
seemed  dazed  and  helpless.  He  and  one  of  the  town  "Fathers" 
were  selected  to  viat  Richmond  at  once  to  seek  from  the  North-  , 
em  officials  in  the  city  some  soldiers  as  a  guard  for  Manchester. 

Down  the  street,  through  the  surging  mobs,  hurried  the 
young  pastor  with  his  associate  and  in  a  short  while  they  had 
picked  their  way  over  to  Richmond  and  made  known  their 
request  to  one  of  the  Generals  whose  army  had  already  taken 
possession  of  the  city. 

The  General,  who  was  angry  at  the  burning  by  the  Con- 
federates of  the  city  with  many  of  its  treasures,  frowned  at 
them  and  called  out  gruffly: 

"Why  did  you  set  this  city  on  fire?  You  want  soldiers  for 
Manchester  and  I  have  not  enough  soldiers  for  my  own  pur- 
poses here  in  Richmond." 

Mr.  Hatcher  in  respectful  tone  s^d:  "Inasmuch  General  aa 
I  do  not  live  in  Richmond  I  hardly  see  how  I  can  be  held 
responfflble  for  the  fire,  and,  be^des,  what  I  am  looking  for  now 
is  somebody  that  will  keep  my  own  town  from  b^ng  set  on 
fire." 

A  faint  smile  lighted  the  grim  face  and,  later  on,  a  company 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


60         A  TILT  WITH  THE  OTHER  SIDE 

of  ne^ro  soldiers  were  Been  tramping  towards  Manchester 
and  the  situation  improved. 

It  seemed  that  he  was  destined  to  have  tilts  with  the  Gener- 
als on  the  other  ^de, — these  encounters,  however,  drawing  no 
blood  and  usually  tenniiiating  with  a  touch  of  good  humor. 
One  day  he  approached  the  officer  in  chaise  of  the  Manchester 
troops  regarding  some  wounded  soldiers  that  were  being  cared 
for  in  the  Baptist  Church: 

"Why  don't  you  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  [to  the  U.  S. 
Government]  and  help  me  to  restore  order  to  this  town?" 
asked  the  general  in  commanding  tone.  "You  can  help  me 
keep  order.  Your  government  is  in  flight,  your  army  in  retreat. 
There  is  no  hope  for  your  cause."  The  man's  manner  seemed 
almost  threatening  and  the  pastor  was  put  on  his  mettle. 

"I  will  have  to  admit  general"  he  said  respectfully  "that 
the  outlook  for  my  cause  is  gloomy  indeed  but  it  is  my  cause. 
I  have  been  identified  with  the  Confederacy  from  its  beginning 
and  while  its  situation  is  exceedingly  distressing  its  government 
still  exists  and  its  armies  are  still  in  the  fields.  I  would  find 
a  blush  crimsoning  my  cheek  if  I  forsook  my  colors  in  the 
presence  of  the  enemy,  and  I  confess  that  I  would  be  utterly 
ashamed  for  it  to  go  abroad  to  our  army,  or  to  our  people,  that  I 
had  made  haste  to  take  the  oath.  I  would  lose  the  good  will 
of  those  who  are  more  than  hfe  to  me.  I  must  wait  the  final 
issue  and  if  that  is  the  downfall  of  the  Confederacy  then  I 
shall  have  no  government,  no  country,  no  citizenship  and  no 
protection.  That  will  be  the  time  for  me  to  decide  what  to  do 
about  the  oath  of  allegiance." 

"I  must  have  a  right  warm  little  speech";  says  Mr.  Hatcher, 
"at  least  my  heart  got  loose  and  ran  flaming  into  my  words  and 
and  some  how  I  found  myself  gloriously  indifferent  to  what 
he  might  think  of  my  little  oration.  He  looked  at  me  with 
changing  color  and  when  I  ended  he  still  looked. 

"  'I'll  be  dogged  if  I  don't  believe  you  are  right,'  he  said  with 
great  feeling.    'And  I  believe  it  is  best  for  you  to  wait.' 

"It  almost  precipitated  a  scene.  His  cordial  words  kindled 
within  me  a  sense  of  brotherhood. 

"  'And  now  general'  I  added  'I  think  I  may  take  the  liberty  of 
saying  t«  you  that  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you  and  you  feel 
disposed  to  trust  me  you  will  find  me  at  your  command.  I 
desire  good  order  and  peace  as  truly  as  you  do.'  " 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  END  OF  THE  WAR  81 

"  'Well  sir,  I  can  trust  you  and  we  will  work  tt^ether,'  said  he. 
"From  that  moment,  I  suffered  no  disturbance  on  the  part  of 
the  Federal  troops." 

This  inddent,  while  characteristic  in  many  ways,  reveals 
(Mie  of  Mr.  Hatcher's  cardinal  truts,  and  that  was  his  fondness 
for  putting  all  his  dealings  with  men  on  the  brotherhood 
baas.  Whenever  a  man  was  thrown  with  him,  no  matter  how 
widely  their  tastes  and  habits  and  position  might  vary, 
Mr.  Hatcher  would  soon  find  in  the  other  man  "a  brother." 
He  always  probed  for  that  spot  in  men;  be  seemed  to  know 
where  it  was  located  and  when  he  found  it  he  carried  on  his 
n^otiatioQB  with  that  part  of  the  man. 

After  Richmond's  evacuation  there  followed,  in  a  few  days, 
the  surrender  of  Lee's  army  and  the  utter  collapse  of  the 
Southern  Confederacy. 

He  writes: 

"When  the  end  came,  the  star  of  southern  hope  went  down 
in  blackest  night.  The  days  which  followed  were  so  full  of 
bitterness  and  despair  that  many  of  the  older  people,  stripped 
of  strength  and  fortune,  sank  broken  hearted  to  their  graves. 
In  almost  every  fanuly  graveyard  there  was  a  soldier's  grave; 
sometimes  it  was  the  father,  sometimes  the  brother,  and  some- 
times the  husband.  Many  sat  down  amid  tlie  ruins  of  the 
lost  cause  penniless  and  dejected  and  felt  that  there  could  be 
no  future  for  them." 

But  not  so,  the  young  pastor.  He  faced  the  chaotic  ritua- 
tion  with  grim  but  bouyant  purpose  and  his  qualities  of  con- 
structive leadership  were  put  to  severe  teat,  as  regarded  not 
Goly  his  dismembered  church  but  also  his  wretched  town. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  STBCCK3LE  LETTBB8 

1866-1867 

The  condition  of  Manchester  depressed  and  well-nigh  ex- 
asperated him.  Its  streets  and  houses  were  shabby,  the  town 
was  governed — or  rather  misgoverned — by  a  Board  of  Trustees, 
nearly  all  of  them  old  men,  and  neglect  and  indifference  stalked 
aloi^  the  public  ways.  His  instinct  for  improvement  sprang 
into  action  and  he  yearned  to  bring  about  a  change. 

In  one  of  the  factories  of  the  town  was  an  orphan  boy  who 
longed  for  an  education  and  in  whom  Mr.  Hatcher  had  become 
greatly  interested.  One  day  Mr.  H.  K.  Ellyson,  who  had 
recently  started  up  the  Richmond  Dispatch,  sent  a  message 
over  to  Mr.  Hatcher  asking  him  to  lend  his  aid  in  increaaog 
the  circulation  of  the  paper  in  Manchester.  Mr.  Hatcher 
saw  that  the  request  gave  to  him  the  double  opportunity  of 
aiding  his  factory  boy  and  also  of  striking  at  the  evil  conditions 
in  the  town  and  so  he  said  to  Mr.  EUyson  that  if  he  would 
employ  his  little  factory  friend  as  his  Manchester  carrier  for 
his  paper  that  he  would  try  to  quicken  the  circulation  by 
writing  some  Manchester  letters. 

He  adopted  a  novel  plan.  He  decided  to  take  the  place  of 
a  factory  girl; — that  is  he  would  write  for  the  Dispatch  a 
series  of  letters  about  Manchester,  just  as  if  be  were  a  girl 
working  in  one  of  the  Manchester  factories  and  agning,  not 
her  own  name,  but  writing  under  the  nom  de  plume  of 
"Struggle."  He  determined  that  in  writing  these  Struggle 
letters  he  would  seek  to  awaken  the  town  from  its  drowsry  state 
in  the  nmtter^fjts 'streets,  houses,  factories,  etc. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


STRUGGLE  LETTERS  53 

On  Jan.  27tb  the  first  letter  from  Struggle  appeared  in  the 
Dispatch  and  wlj^en  the  Manchester  people  opened  their 
BJchmond  paper  they  saw  the  letter  on  the  first  page,  parts  of 
which  read  aa  follows: 

"Manchester,  Va.,  January  25th. 

"Mb.  Editor, — I  am  nothing  but  an  bumble  factory  girl 
but  a  mighty  ambition  struggles  in  my  soul.  From  my  girl- 
hood I  have  felt  a  desire  to  be  a  newspaper  writer.  .  .  . 
Once  I  lived  in  the  country, — alas  my  country  home.  We 
call«l  it  Chestnut  Lawn,  it  was  a  happy  home. — (go  back 
ye  gushing  tears).    A  stranger  has  the  place  now.     .     .     . 

"A  new  notion  flashed  into  my  brain  today.  I  have  con- 
cluded to  address  you  this  letter  respectfully  asking  (no  disgrace 
for  me)  the  privilege  of  writing  for  the  Dispatch.  Will  you 
accept  me?  Why  not?  Don't  despise  me  (as  some  do)  becau.se 
I  am  compelled  to  earn  my  bread  by  working  in  a  cotton 
factory.  If  you  allow  me  to  write  for  you  I  shall  have  many 
things  to  say  about  factories  and  factory  life. 

"Manchester  is  a  remarkable  place.  We  have  remarkable 
houses,  remarkable  streets  andj  remarkables  generally.  Six 
commentaries  could  be  written  on  this  charming  town.  \ou 
shall  hear  of  Manchester  very  freely  if  I  write  for  you.  Things 
don't  move  here  in  all  respects  to  suit  my  girlish  notions  and  it 
would  ease  me  greatly  to  write  under  an  assumed  nama  anrl 
abuse  some  "persons,  places  and  things"  as  my  grammar  wwd 
to  say.  In  fact,  I  am  a  woman  and  think  for  myself,  never 
hedtating  to  express  my  opinion.  Some  girls  in  the  factory  are 
mad  with  me  for  my  speeches.  I  care  not.  What  suits  me,  i 
praise;  what  annoys,  I  condemn. 

"If  you  want  me  to  write,  publish  this  as  a  sort  of  introduction 
and  when  I  get  a  candle  and  paper  I  will  write  more.  As  it 
would  make  me  unpleasantly  notorious  to  have  my  name  known, 
I  ask  to  be  known  under  the  name  of 

"Struggle." 

The  sleepy  town  rubbed  its  eyes  and  b^an  to  wonder  who 
the  factory  pri  was  and  what"  she  intended  publishing  about 
Manchester.  In  the  factories  the  question  ran  from  lip  to  lip: 
"Who  is  this  Stru^Ie?"  and  many  were  the  questions  and 
jests  that  were  bandied  back  and  forth  about  the  new  factory 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


54  STRUGGLE  LETTERS 

star  in  the  liter&iy  heavens.    Each  morning  the  people  -nutcbed 
for  the  second  letter.    It  appeared  in  the  Dispatch  of  Jan.  31st. 

"Manchester,  Va.,  Saturday  night. 
"Mr  Editor, — ^Do  you  remember  the  first  time  you  ever  saw 
your  own  writing  in  print?    When  you  read  it  did  you  not  ex- 
perience the  most  delightful  sensation.     .     .     ." 

She  then  describes  ber  amdous  tossing  during  the  nigbt  and 
her  rapture  on  seeing  her  letter  in  print  next  morning.  She 
thus  continues: 

"It  is  astonishing  to  witness  the  excitement  which  the  appear- 
ance  of  my  last  letter  baa  already  produced.  In  the  factory  it  is 
the  theme  of  much  talk.  One  girl,  noted  for  the  thickness  of  her 
lips  and  the  redness  of  her  hair,  was  greatly  exercised  on  the 
subject.  She  expressed  herself  thus:  'Dont  talk  to  me;  I 
know  what  that  gal  is  after;  she  is  trying  to  get  somebody  to 
marry  her.'  I  laughed  aloud  and  heartily  at  her,  for  I  sup- 
posed she  referred  to  what  I  said  about  the  celebrated  mis- 
sionary. .  .  .  Many  factory  people  think  that  heaven 
consists  in  f;ctting  out  of  the  factory  by  marrying.  1  know  a 
few  girls  who  were  doing  well  enough  before  they  married; 
some  of  them  have  now  to  support  their  husbands  and  then 
furnish  them  their  whiskey  besides.     .     .     . 

Mr.  Editor  did  you  ever  see  a  boss?  If  you  never  did  I  want 
to  describe  one  (my  own)  to  you. 

"Struggle. 

"P.  S. — In  my  next  I  shall  en!ight«n  the  public  in  regard  to 

the  streets  of  Manchester." 

This  letter  unloosed  the  tongues  of  the  town, — especially 
in  the  factory.  When  three  days  later  the  newsboy  began  to 
cry  on  the  street:  "Richmond  Dispatch,  Letter  from  Struggle," 
there  were  eager  hands  to  reach  for  the  paper — much  to  the 
delight  of  the  ambitious  newsboy. 

"Manchester,  Va.,  Thursday  nigbt. 
"Mr  Editor, — When  I  lived  in  the  country  I  knew  an  old 
farmer  who  had  eight  sons,  to  each  of  whom  he  gave  the  name 
of  a  Roman  general.     There  were  Julius  Caesar,  Coriolanus, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


'  STRUGGLE  LETTERS  55 

Tiberius  Gracchus  and  half  a  dozen  more,  with  names  equally 
as  impoffli^.  The  old  gentleman  was  immensely  proud  of 
these  names.  Not  ao  with  the  boys.  They  mortally  hated  them 
and  selected  the  drollest  nicknames  for  themselves  that  could 
be  found.  In  time  their  real  names  were,  by  most  people, 
entirely  forgotten. 

"The  streets  of  Manchester  forcibly  remind  me  of  the  old 
fanner  and  his  boys.  Somebody — to  fame  unknown — once 
upon  a  time  did  give  to  these  elongated  mud  holes  some  very 
fanciful  names.  .  .  .  Strangely  enough  the  names  of  these 
streets,  as  far  aa  I  know,  are  rarely,  used.  If  you  ask  one  where 
he  lives,  he  never  gives  the  name  of  the  street,  but  unless  his 
residence  happens  to  be  on  the  Main  Street  (which,  by  the  way, 
is  Hull  Street)  he  will  describe  his  location.  Folks  live  in  "Mor- 
gan's Row"  in  "Mark's  old  field"  and  "Around  Sizer's  Comer," 
but  aobody  dreams  of  living  on  a  street  which  actually  has  a 
name.  What  these  streets — so  called — are  intended  for  is  a 
mystery  to  me.     ,     .     . 

I  boldly  assert  that  there  is  not  a  road  this  dde  of  Danville 
(I  used  to  go  to  school  there)  as  impassable  for  wagons  or 
walkers  as  are  the  streets  (except  Hull)  of  this  dilapidated  town,"   ' 

After  giving  a  description  of  the  manner  in  which  certain 
streets  have  been  dug  up  and  certain  streets  been  allowed  to 
lie  in  wretched  neglect,  she  continues; 

"I  wish  we  did  have  some  town  officers.  I  must  stop.  It  is 
neariy  midnight  and  factory  people  have  to  rise  before  day. 
You  see  what  little  time  I  have.  I  get  home  after  eight  o'clock 
at  night  and  have  to  leave  before  seven  in  the  morning.  Isn't 
this  night  work  outrageous.  Very  shortly  I  will  let  you  hear 
from  me  in  full  on  this  subject. 

"Struggle. 

"P.  S. — I  have  read  this  to  mother  and  she  objects  to  my 
sending  it.  She  says  it  is  too  rough;  do  as  you  please  about 
publishing  it.  I  mean  no  harm  for  I  love  Manchester.    .    .    .'' 

On  the  next  morning  a  communication  appeared  in  The 
Dispatch  attacking  the  Struggle  letters  and  was  signed  "Citi- 
sen."    Among  other  things  "Citieen"  said: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


56  STRUGGLE  LETTEES 

"Her  statements  in  r^ard  to  the  names  and  state  of  our 
streets  are  likely  to  do  harm.  Who  would  think  of  investing 
or  settlii^  here,  under  the  light  of  her  startling  revelations? 
it  is  earnestly  hoped  that  none  will  be  misled  by  this  fair  young 
scribbler". 

The  editor  subjoins  the  following  comment: 

"  'Citizen'  is  ui^allant.  As  a  lady  can  not  hold  him  "per- 
sonally responsible"  for  his  offensive  language  he  should  have 
been  exceedingly  guarded  in  Ms  expressions,  but  we  have  an 
idea  that  Struggle  is  able  to  cope  with  him  with  pen  or  tongue 
(this  latter  woman's  chief  weapon,  offensive  and  defensive)  and 
so  we  let  him  have  his  say.  If  he  repent  not  his  indiscretion 
ere  long,  then  we  are  no  prophet". 

The  situation  grows  lively  and  the  little  newsboy  thinks 
that  times  are  booming.  The  sentiment  c^  the  people  re- 
garding the  Struggle  Letters  was  much  divided, — some  de- 
claring them  outrageous,  many  others  simply  enjoying  the 
fun,  while  still  others  hoped  that  the  letters  would  awaken 
the  town  from  its  slumber.  The  interest  in  the  letters  was  not 
bounded  by  the  limits  of  Manchester,  but  prevailed  in  Rich- 
mond and  in  many  places  out  in  the  state. 

A  letter  appeared  in  the  Dispatch  signed  "F«r  Play"  which 
took  the  side  of  Stru^le  and  closed  as  follows: 

"One  word  with  regard  to  the  fact  in  the  case.  I  have  been  I 
living  here  for  many  a  long  year  and  I  really  do  not  know  the 
names  of  half  a  dozen  street  in  the  place.  Struggle  is  right: 
they  are  seldom  called  by  their  name  and  the  wretched  con- 
dition they  are  in  is  ten  times  worse  than  she  represents  them 
to  be. 

"Fair  Play." 

There  was  no  one  who  enjoyed  the  storm  more  than  the 
young  preacher  who  had  caused  it.  Wherever  Mr.  Hatcher 
went  he  encountered, — as,  indeed,  nearly  everybody  else 
did, — the  clatter  about  the  Struggle  letters.  On  the  streets 
and  in  his  visitJng  many  of  his  conversations  had  the  letters 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


STRUGGLE  LETTERS  57 

of  the  factory  girl  as  their  theme  and  he  plunged  into  the 
discussions  of  the  publications  as  eagerly  as  did  any  one  else. 

"Mr.  Hatcher"  said  some  one  to  him  one  day.  "Who  do 
you  think  is  writing  those  Struggle  letters?  Do  you  think 
it  is  really  a  factory  girl?" 

"There  are  some  things  about  the  letters"  replied  Mr. 
Hatcher  "that  sound  very  much  like  the  talk  of  a  factory  girl; 
but  then  there  are  other  features  of  the  letters  that  wear  the 
mark  ot  a  man  correspondent.  The  fact  is  I  often  think  they 
arewritten  by  some  man.    What  do  you  think  about  it?'' 

A  conmiunicatioD  appeared  on  Feb.  6th  which  took  the  side 
of  Struggle.    It  was  signed  "Push  On." 

Mr.  Hatcher  was  particularly  desirous  that  the  Struggle  let- 
ters should  bring  about  a  better  condition  for  the  factory  girls. 

An  important  announcement  appeared  in  the  Dispatch  of 
Feb.  7th  as  follows: 

"Affairs  in  Manchester. 
"We  have  secured  the  services  of  a  reliable  reporter  for 
Manchester  and  in  the  future  the  cttisens  of  that  quiet,  pleasant 
little  town  may  rely  on  being  kept  thoroughly  posted  in  all 
matters  of  importance.    .    .     ." 

This  was  the  first  step  towards  better  things  for  Manchester. 
It  was  Improvement  Number  1. 

On  the  next  day,  Feb.,  8th,  the  early  cry  of  the  Manchester 
newsboy  announced  another  letter  from  Struggle.  The  people 
had  been  eager  for  it  inasmuch  aa  she  had  declared  that  she 
would  express  herself  about  the  factories. 

"Manchester,  Saturday  night. 
"Mr.  Editor, — I  promised  in  my  last  letter  to  express  my 
opinion  very  soon  concerning  the  rule  of  these  factories  re- 
quiring their  employees  during  nearly  half  the  year  to  work 
until  eight  o'clock  at  niglit.  As  I  have  finished  my  ironing  and 
mending  earlier  than  usual  to  night  I  will  consume  the  last 
sheet  of  my  paper  in  protesting  against  the  barbarity  of  tbis 
rule.  ...  If  the  oppressed  do  not  cry  for  mercy  how  shall 
they  find  relief.    .    .    ." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


58  STRUGGLE  LETTERS 

She  then  draws  a  vivid  picture  of  the  evils  of  the  night  work 
and  continues: 

"Ah  well,  if  we  die,  few  weep;  no  bella  are  tolled,  stock 
holders  smile,  as  before,  at  growing  dividends  and  pause  not  to 
ask  whose  life  was  taken  to  make  them  rich,  and  our  places  are 
soon  filled. 

"I  am  not  through  but  the  bell  sounds  midnight  and  mother 
commands  me  to  rest. 

*  "Struggle. 

"P.  S, — Well,  as  you  see,  this  letter  was  written  on  Saturday 
night.  Little  brother  has  had  a  bad  cold  as  well  as  bad  shoes 
and  mother  would  not  allow  me  to  .send  him  out  until  the 
weather  moderated.  Please  send  me  all  the  papers  for  the  week, 
as  I  have  not  seen  one  since  last  Saturday.  I  could  sometimes 
borrow  a  copy  of  the  Dispatch,  but  I  am  afraid  to  do  it  lest  I 
should  get  questioned  too  closely." 

The  Dispatch  of  Feb.,  9th  contained  the  following  item  in 
the  "Richmond  Local"  colunm: 

"Personal, — We  announce  .with  regret  that  Miss  Struggle, 
our  Manchester  correspondent,  had  an  unfortunate  fall  on 
Wednesday  night  on  returning  home  from  the  factory,  by  which 
she  sprained  her  right  arm.  The  editor  received  a  message  from 
her  on  yesterday  saying  that  her  injuries  were  slight,  but  such 
as  made  it  painful  for  her  to  write.  She  wishes  us  to  say  that 
in  her  next  letter  she  will  express  her  opinion  of  the  article 
ragned  "Citizen."  Let  it  come  for  we  are  waiting  anxiously 
for  it." 

In  the  letters  which  Struggle  received  were  several  offers 
of  marriage.  She  had  stated  that  she  sent  her  letters  over  to 
the  Dispatch  by  her  little  brother  and  it  was  amusing  indeed 
to  note  the  devices  which  were  employed  to  discover  the 
little  fellow  in  his  tramps  across  the  bridge.  In  this  same 
issue  of  Feb.,  10th,  under  the  head  of  "Manchester  Affairs," 
occurs  the  following  item  from  the  reporter: 

"The  condition  of  that  street  (name  unknown)  that  leads  up 
from  the  office  of  Dr.  Chiles  to  the  African  church  is  terrible 
in  the  extreme  and  that  section  of  the  town  near  Vaden's  old 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


STRUGGLE  LETTERS  59 

factory  will  compare  favorably  with  Five  Pointa  or  any  other 
abominable  locaJity.  .  .  .  What  the  people  want  is  a 
live  Board  of  Trustees  and  not  muinmies  and  wooden  men 
....  We  are  requested  by  a  friend — a  tax  payer — to 
aak  to  whom  do  the  Board  of  Trustees  report  or  have  they  ever 
reported  aa  yet  any  account  of  their  Btewardship. 

Ah,  that  Board  of  Town  Trustees.  The  Municipal  election 
occurs  in  the  Spring  and  Mr.  Hatcher  hopes  that  Uiat  election 
day  will  prove  the  day  of  destiny  for  Manchester,  when  that 
Board  will  be  neatly  dropped  into  oblivion  or  at  least  into  re- 
tirement and  a  new  regime  be  inaugurated 

His  hands  were  of  course  buE^  in  his  pastoral  labors.  His 
PhilologiaD  Debating  Society,  his  ^nging  School  and  his  in- 
numerable plans  for  enlisting  the  young  and  developing  his 
church  all  made  heavy  drafts  upon  his  time  and  strength. 

"Richmond  Dispatch,  February  13th. 

"Manchester  on  the  James,  February  10,  1866. 
"Messbrs.  Editors, —  ...  On  reading  the  paper  this 
morning  (the  Dispatch  of  course)  I  notice  that  my  silent  friend 
Struggle  has  met  with  an  accident.  I  certainly  sympathize 
with  her  and  trust  that  ere  Iwig  she  may  be  able  to  wield  the 
pen  again. 

'Tush  On." 

Certain  suburbs  of  Eichmond  express  their  grievances  in 
the  liHspatcfa,  each  referring  to  Stni^^. 

The  next  letter  from  Struggle,  which  is  largely  a  reply  to 
"Citaeen"  concludes  as  follows: 

"P.  S. — My  arm,  though  stiff  yet,  is  n4)idly  improving. 
Would  you  hke  for  me  in  my  next  to  give  you  some  account  of 
the  changes  by  which  I  was  brought  from  Chestnut  Lawn  to 
the  factory?" 

The  editor  adds: 

"Struggts  will  excuse  us  for  calling  her  attention  to  her 
volubility — woman's  reputed  failing — and  to  the  idea  (also 
a  woman's)  that  personal  beauty  is  a  neceesaiy  qualification  for 
admittance  to  good  society." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


60  STRUGGLE  LETTERS 

Struggle's  next  letter  throws  the  tovm  into  laughter, — 
though  many  squirm  under  her  lampoon.  Already  the  de- 
crepit town  counci!  has  become  the  target  for  many  a  jest 
and  they  are  resenting  it — some  of  them  quite  furiously. 

"Manchester,  Thursday. 

"Messeiis  Editors, — Frankness  compels  the  admission  that 
the  temper  in  which  I  now  find  myself  is  not  the  moat  aimable. 
For  several  days  mother  has  been  suffering  with  unusual  pains. 
That  her  sickness  has  been  induced  by  the  condition  of  the  house 
in  which  we  live  is  to  my  mind  perfectly  clear.     .     .     . 

"We  would  promptly  seek  another  place  but  a  wholesome 
remembran*  that  the  frying  pan  is  not  to  be  lightly  exchanged 
for  the  fire  effectually  restrains  us. 

"Manchester's  houses  (my  present  subject)  are  a  peculiar 
institution.  Their  like  has  never  been  seen  before  and  humanity 
fathers  the  hope  that  their  like  may  never  be  seen  again. 

"There  is  a  story  among  the  neighbors  here  that  Manchester 
was  built  during  Noah's  flood.  This  curious  behef  runs  thus: 
they  say  that  when  the  waters  of  the  flood  spread  over  the 
world  many  of  the  bouses  of  Asia,  owing  to  the  compactness 
of  their  stnicture  and  the  lightness  of  their  material,  were 
borne  up  by  the  swelling  waters.  They  safely  outrode  the 
frightful  storm  and  during  the  time  were  floated  half  round  the 
earth.  When  the  flood  abated  these  houses  were  flung  pell 
meil  upon  this  hill  by  the  receding  waters. 

"Several  things  lead  me  to  regard  this  singular  story  as  not 
altogether  without  foundation-     .     .     . 

"Let  us  see:  Here  iS'a  residence  with  its  end  towards  the 
street.  .  .  .  Out  there  in  the  lot  are  those  celebrated  brick 
rows  whose  dingy  walls  and  blackened  roofs  bring  to  memory  the 
"Deserted  Village".  What  a  pity  Mr.  Pickwick  did  not  visit 
Manchester.  .  .  .  The  Manchester  homes  are  bhssfully 
ignorant  of  the  benefits  of  paint.  ...  An  old  man  told 
mother  last  Sunday  that  many  of  the  houses  in  Manchester  had 
not  been  painted  since  V^e  war  of  '76.  This  I  suppose  is  true. 
.  .  .  We  have  an  association  here  known  as  the  'Water 
Scoopers'  whose  members  make  fortunes  in  the  wet  season  by 
removing  water  from  overflown  cellars.  .  .  .  The  Man- 
chester homes  have  also  a  pleasant  way  of  leaking  in  bad 
weather.  This  is  thought  to  be  a  great  advantage  inasmuch 
as  it  furnishes  a  new  method  of  scouring;  besides  it  serves  to 
show  the  various  uses  to  which  buckets  and  pans  can  be  appUed. 
"STauooLs," 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


STRUGGLE  LETTERS  61 

Two  startling,  but  joyful,  announcements  appeard  in  the 
IM^Mitch  of  March  5th  under  the  head  of  Manchester  Affairs. 
Nothi;ig  like  it  had  been  seen  in  the  Dispatch  for  many  a  day; 
io  fact  it  is  doubtful  whether  just  its  like  had  ever  been  seen  in 
.Uiat  paper: 

"Makchestsb  Ajtairs. 

"The  Chief  of  Police  has  had  the  street  hands  very  busy 
lately  and  has  succeeded  in  improving  wonderfully  the  appear- 
ance of  some  of  the  streets  and  is  still  at  work. 

"To  the  infinite  pleasure  of  operatives  night  work  has  been 
suspended  in  the  Manchester  cotton  and  woolen  mills  and 
with  all  due  deference  to  the  stockholders  we  trust  they  will 
never  be  lit  up  again,  as  twelve  or  fourteen  h«urs'  work  per  day 
is  not  only  injurious  to  the  mind  and  body  but  contrary  to 
ri^t  and  the  progressive  spirit  of  civilization." 

Mr.  Hatcher  was  happy  but  not  satisfied. 

But  the  Spring  election  for  Town  Trustees  was  approaching. 
In  tlie  same  issue  containing  the  above  two  notices  appeared 
another  letter  from  Struggle  on  "The  Windeaters"  of  Manches- 
ter,— those  men  who  live  on  air,  not  having  any  visible  means 
of  support,  men  who  lounge  on  the  street  comers  and  around 
bar  rooms,  getting  home  late  at  night  and  getting  up  late  in 
the  morning  and  c^>eaking  insultingly  to  the  girls  on  the 
street.  Struggle  said  these  windeaters  had  red  noses,  and  red 
eyes  and  looked  as  if  they  had  been  crying.  Struggle  then 
takes  a  crack  at  the  Town  Trustees  by  saying: 

"In  oldai  times,  as  I  once  read,  mourners  were  regularly 
hired  to  perform  at  funerals.  Had  these  "eaters"  prevailed 
in  those  days  they  would  have  been  useful.  As  it  is  now  I  see 
a  use  for  them.  If  a  trustee  should  die  there  would  be  some  red 
eyes  at  his  burial; — ^provided  always  that  the  "eaters"  were 
present — otherwise  there  would  be  no  red  eyes  there". 

Struggle  then  proceeds  to  tell  how  these  "eaters"  annoy  the 
ladies  on  the  streets: 

"On  Saturdays  as  we  go  homewards  these  agreeable  gen- 
Uemen  form  in  knots  and  take  us  in  as  we  pass.  They  say  the 
most  ^reeable  and  pretty  compliments  in  our  hearing.    One 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


63  STRUGGLE  LETTERS 

will  flay:  'Howd'y  to  you  my  Spinning  Jenny'.  Another  ex- 
claims in  graceful  tones:  'Go  it  beauties,  supper  is  ready'  and 
yet  a  third,  still  more  refined  cries:  'Make  way  for  the  cotton 
grinders.'    Is  not  all  this  delicious.    .    . 

"Strcoolb." 

The  Dispatch  of  March  8th  tells  of  the  o^anieation  in 
Manchester  of  a  Building  Fund  Association  which,  the  paper 
said,  it  was  hoped  would  be  a  benefit  not  only  to  the  stock- 
holders but  to  the  town  as  well. 

The  windeating  loafers  on  the  streets  seemed  to  have 
vanished.  At  least  Struggle  m  her  next  letter  of  Mardi  17th 
says: 

"My  letter  about  the  windeat^v  produced  consequences 
that  I  did  not  anticipate.  As  soon  as  it  appeared  they  dis- 
appeared most  mysteriously.  Little  brother  heard  a  gentleman 
say  that  a  special  train  loaded  with  th«se  genUemen  left  on  the 
Danville  road  last  week  for  the  South. 

"This  must  be  true.  ...  A  young  man  was  seen  on  last 
Wednesday  to  walk  down  Main  Street  with  a  card  pinned  on 
his  coat  tail  bearing  ccmspiciously  the  inscripti<Hi  "A  Wind- 
eater."  Little  brother  happened  to  be  at  the  depot  when  his 
attention  was  called  to  it.  The  language  which  he  used  when 
he  discovered  the  card  was  so  shockingly  profane  that  my 
virtuous  young  relative  declined  wisely  to  repeat  it.  He  stated 
distinctly  that  he  was  no  windeater,    .    .    ." 

Struggle  closed  this  letter  with  the  surprising  announcement 
that  she  would  attend  the  concert  at  the  Methodist  church 
on  the  next  Friday  night  and  would  give  a  report  of  it.  She 
was  true  to  her  word.  She  went  and  in  her  letter  of  March  24th 
she  gave  a  recital  of  the  proceedings  that  was  humorous  in  the 
extreme.  Struggle  thought  that  the  Methodist  church  building 
showed  signs  of  neglect  and  failed  in  its  appearance  to  add  to 
the  good  looks  of  the  town  and  so  she  proceeded  to  ease  her 
mind.     Only  a  part  of  her  spicy  letter  can  here  be  given: 

"Manchesteb,  Monday  night. 
"A  boy  remarked  in  the  factory  some  weeks  ago  that  the 
sin^ng  class  at  the  Methodist  church  had  sung  the  roof  off  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


STRUGGLE  LETTEES  63 

house.  .  .  At  the  time  I  supposed  that  he  only  meant  to 
be  witty  at  the  expense  of  the  truth.  My  knowledge  of 
acoustics  forbade  my  lending  the  smallest  credit  to  the  assertion. 
Kow,  since  I  attended  the  concert  on  Friday  night,  I  am  ready 
to  believe  that  the  boy  told  the  truth, — partially  at  least. 

"The  wall  of  the  church  was  horribly  defaced  by  water  which 
had  evidently  found  an  inlet  through  the  roof.  My  opinion  is 
that  during  the  rehearsal  of  the  class  on  some  occasion  of  un- 
wonted inspiration  the  room  became  so  charged  with  melody 
that  the  roof  was  rent.  If  such  be  the  fact  it  furnishes  a  moat 
affecting  illustration  of  the  power  of  music.  .  .  .  Nor 
need  we  longer  doubt  the  familiar  assertion  that  music  .hath 
charms  to  soothe  the  savage,  split  a  roof  and, — summarily 
demolish  a  cabbage.     .     .     . 

"As  the  class  sang  the  roof  off,  it  seems  simple  justice  to  require 
them  to  sing  it  on  again.  This  they  can  easily  do.  While  they  are 
in  the  roofing  business  it  would  be  well  to  extend  their  labors  to 
the  church  at  which  I  heard  the  temperance  speech.  That  also 
is  in  a  leaky  condition  as  indeed  is  every  other  bouse  in  this 
highly  civiliBcd  town." 

"What  will  this  reckless  Struggle  attack  next?"  wondered 
the  people.  A  critic  seemed  to  be  at  large  in  the  town  and 
nobody  knew  where  the  lightning  would  strike  next. 

"DiapATCH,  March  26th.  (Communicated) 

".     .     .    The  leaky  conditions  of  the  churches  will  probably 

remain  as  they  have  been  until  the  next  concert.    Then  we 

promise  Struggle  a  dozen  tickets.    .    .    ." 

"Dispatch,  March  30th.  Manchester  Iteus. 

"The  Streets,— The  streets  and  by-ways  of  Manchester  are 
now  in  very  good  condition.  Mill  Street  has  been  well  paved 
and  a  great  many  other  improvements  arc  being  carried  on. 

"By  order  of  the  sheriff  the  election  for  trustees  of  Manchester 
as  announced  will  take  place  on  Monday  April  2.3rd.  Let  our 
people  take  notice  and  be  well  prepared  to  vote  discreetly  and 
wisely  for  men  who  will  labor  for  the  advancement  of  Man- 
chester and  the  welfare  of  its  whole  people. 

"The  Election  of  Trustees, In  view  of  the  near  ap- 
proach of  the  election  for  Trustees  every  man  Is  advised  to  pay 
his  town  taxes.  The  amount  is  small  and  the  right  to  vote  may 
be  questioned  when  they  are  not  paid.    .    .    .    There  is  some 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


64  STRUGGLE  LETTERS 

talk  of  a  large  importation  of  outside  voters  but  we  believe  that 
if  the  men  of  Manchester  will  only  be  true  to  tliemselves  and  to 
each  other  they  can  carry  the  town  in  spite  of  all  outside  in- 
fluences." 

The  fight  is  on  and  Mr.  Hatcher's  ardent  hope  is  that  a  new 
and  progressive  Board  of  Trustees  will  be  elected. 

"Dispatch,  April   14th.  Manchester  Items. 

Condition  op  the  Town, — Our  worthy  Chief  of  Police  and 
his  assistants  have  been  very  industrious  lately  and  have  put 
the  town  generally  in  good  order.  We  trust  they  will  relax 
no  effort  to  place  the  town  in  a  cleanly  condition.    .    .    . 

"Dispatch,    April    16th.  Manchester    Items. 

Let  no  one  who  has  the  interest  of  this  town  at  heart  f^l  to 
pay  his  taxes  and  secure  himself  the  right  to  suffrage  in  the 
approaching  election  for  Trustees, — an  election  fraught  with 
matters  of  more  interest  than  any  that  has  occured  for  many 
years. 

"Richmond  Times,  April  16th.    From  Manchester  Reporter. 

We  are  pleased  to  note  that  the  town  Hall  has  been  greatly 
improved,  whitewashed  and  punted  and  now  presents  quite 
a  creditable  appearance. 

Some  one  in  this  issue  of  the  Times,  in  order  to  perpetrate  a 
jokeon  Struggle,  published  anoticeof  her  death  and  thus  wrote 
her  obituary  calling  her  Angelina  Seraphina  Struggle. 

Mr.  Hatcher  received  at  about  this  time  a  call  to  the  pastorate 
of  the  Franklin  Square  Church  of  Baltimore,  a  much  larger 
and  more  attractive  field  than  his  own,  but  Manchester's  claims 
upon  him  at  that  time  seemed  to  him  imperious  and  he  de- 
clined the  call. 

Stn^gle  saw  the  notice  of  her  demise  and  in  her  letter  in 
the  Dispatch  of  April  23rd  she  said: 

"I  see  no  wit  in  the  obituary.  .  .  .  There  is  one  comfort 
left  me.  I  have  lived  to  read  my  own  obituary  and,  paradoxical 
as  it  may  seem,  to  enjoy  the  benefits  of  a  posthumous  fame." 

The  day  of  destiny  for  Manchester  has  arrived.  It  is 
Mcmday^April  23rd. — Mection  Day.    The  people  of  the  town 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


STRUGGLE  LETTERS  65 

are  to  choose  their  Board  of  Trusteea  and  there  is  a  sharp 
contest  between  the  old  officials  and  a  reform  ticket. 

On  the  next  day  the  Dispatch  contained  the  following 
aunoimcement : 

"Election  in  Manchester, — ^The  annual  election  for  a 
Board  of  Trustees  took  place  in  Manchester  yesterday  and 
resulted  in  the  success  of  the  reform  ticket." 

There  was  music  in  that  announcement  for  Struggle.  The 
earthquake  had  come  and  a  new  regime  was  the  result. 

The  first  meeting  of  the  new  Board  marked  an  epoch  in  the 
life  of  the  town  as  it  held  its  session  in  pyblic  and  passed  resolu- 
tions looking  to  many  improvements,  such  as  the  establish- 
ment of  a  Market  House,  one  or  two  Free  Schools,  a  Board  of 
Health,  etc.  Struggle  knew  that  the  battle  was  not  yet  over. 
She  had  her  ^e  on  those  new  officials  and  they  were  aware  of  it. 

In  her  letter  of  April  30th  she  tella  the  story  of  the  death  of 
the  old  Board  of  Trusteea  whose  terms  of  office  had  ended  at 
midnight  on  Monday  night. 

"Thursday  night. 

"Manchester  ia  in  teara,  A  great  sorrow  lies  upon  the  public 
heart.  For  some  time  it  haa  been  whispered  that  the  health 
of  our  Board  of  Trustees  was  failing.     .     .     , 

"During  last  week  a  decided  change  for  the  worse  was  ob- 
servable in  the  condition  of  the  Board.  Accordingly  a  celebrated 
physician  Dr."In  no  cence"  was  engaged  to  undertake  the  case. 
He  recommended  a  heavy  dose  of  filed  iron  (ch)  to  be  given 
with  the  greatest  dispatch. 

"At  eight  o'clock  it  was  whispered  about  that  the  Board  was 
dying.  No  language  can  picture  the  sensation  produced  by  this 
announcement.  The  very  sky  wrapped  its  face  in  storm.  The 
thunders  rattled  and  rolled  as  if  Jupiter  was  hastily  evacuating 
Mount  Olympus.  The  winds  as  if  furloughed  by  Aeolus  sighed 
and  whistled  in  the  strangest  manner.  .The  lightning,  taking 
advantage  of  the  suspension  of  municipal  rule,  pounced  relen1> 
iessly  upon  a  aurburban  stable  and  utterly  destroyed  it.  The 
streets  ran  wild  with  water  and  woe.  .  ,  .  Everything 
joined  to  echo  a  thousand  times  the  mournful  story:  'The  Iq- 
viabte  fathers  are  dying.' 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


66  STRUGGLE  LETTERS 

"Just  as  the  sun  after  stealing  a  sly  peep  from  behind  the 
lofty  bank  of  a  cloud  was  dipping  his  golden  footsteps  in  the 
mystic  seas  of  the  West  the  tidings  sad  and  painful  went  out: 
'The  Board  has  breathed  its  last,'    Oh;  grief.     .     .     . 

"The  committee  very  properly  decided  that  the  body  should 
lie  in  state  at  the  Town  Hall  during  Tuesday.  While  there 
several  relatives  and  friends  came  and  took  leave  of  the  pre- 
cious remains. 

"The  hour  fittingly  chosen  for  the  burial  was  midnight.  .  . 
The  body  was  silently  placed  in  a  certain  cart  very  dear  to  the 
Board  in  its  life  time  and  the  prdcession,  thus  formed,  slowly 
moved  away.  Just  then  the  moon  passed  behind  a  cloud.  The 
police  and  various  other  appurtenances  wept  aloud,  the  com- 
mittee of  seven  joined  hands  and  the  clock  struck  twelve.     .     . 

TTie  services  were  then  beautifully  closed  by  a  band  of  min- 
strels that  chanted  that  original,  appropriate  dii^e:  'Rest  in  , 
peace  and  sin  no  more.' " 

"Dispatch,  May  10th.  Manchester  Apfaibs. 

"We  believe  that  it  is  in  contemplation  to  rwse  the  taxes; 
but  no  one  can  object  when  they  know  it  is  to  be  expended  in 
improving  and  beautifying  our  little  town  which,  however 
homely,  is  the  garden  spot  of  the  world  to  us. 

Stru^Ie  now  turns  her  attention  to  the  new  Board  and  gives 
them  a  portion  of  her  mind,  suggesting  lines  of  improvements 
for  them  to  adopt.  In  beginning  her  letter  she  can  not  resist 
the  temptation  to  take  a  dig  at  the  old  Board  of  Trustees,  even 
while  it  is  in  its  grave. 

"Manchester,  Monday  night. 

"Happily  for  the  cause  of  civilization  our  old  Board  of 
Trustees  has  gone  to  the  grave.  In  reviewing  its  official  course 
it  is  a  peculiar  comfort  that  we  are  entirely  free  from  all  dis- 
agreeable debts  of  gratitude  and  will  not  be  burdened  in  the 
least  with  the  memory  of  its  virtues.     .     .     . 

"The  new  Board,  wreathed  with  the  chaplets  of  popular  favor 
and  with  the  banner  of  reform  waving  above  it,  is  now  upon  the 
stage.  .  .  .  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  they  are  not  so  unduly 
elated  by  their  recent  honors  as  to  be  unable  to  listen  to  sound 
advice." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


STRUGGLE  LETTERS  67 

Stn^gle  thea  proceeds  to  set  forth  ber  ideas.  She  protests 
against  the  professional  gamblers  that  infest  the  place  and  also 
the  drinking  shops.  In  ui^ng  that  a  certain  nuisance  be  re- 
moved she  says: 

"I  allude  to  a  certain  soap  factory  which  stands  in  one  of  the 
most  thickly  populated  sections  of  our  beautiful  town.  I 
declare  that  I  have  sometimes  been  ready  in  passing  it  to 
reproach  nature  for  bestowing  upon  me  the  common  gift  of  an 
olfactory  nerve.  I  am  told  that  peraons  residing  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  that  factory  have  intensely  Roman  noses  purely 
as  a  result  of  holding  them  so  much.  Oh,  gentlemen  of  the 
Boardj  help.  ...  I  appeal  to  your  common  scents  to 
decide  whether  it  ought  not  to  be  done." 

She  published  two  other  letters, — one  on  May  25th  on  the 
experiences  of  a  poor  girl  in  her  efforts  to  dress  properly,  and  one 
on  June  2nd  on  "Gamblers  in  Manchester." 

"Dispatch,  June  20th.  Manchester  Ait-airs. 

"From  being  a  place  of  no  note,  Manchester  has  lately  as- 
sumed a  position  of  some  little  magnititude  among  the  towns 
of  our  mother  state. 

The  reporter  for  the  Richmond  Times  attacked  Struggle 
and  in  her  letter  of  July  she  replied  in  spicy  and  witty  fashion. 

In  her  letter  of  July  28th  she  takes  the  city  of  Richmond  in 
band,  criticizing  her  for  her  proud  and  scornful  manner  towards 
Manchester.  "Richmond  .  .  .  reminds  me  of  a  girl  who, 
poorly  raised,  by  a  stroke  of  good  fortune  becomes  the  petted 
wife  of  some  rich  and  stupid  old  bachelor.  She  decks  herself 
in  all  the  extremes  of  fashionable  folly,  assumes  lofty  flaunting 
airs  and  hastens  to  forget  the  humihty  of  her  origin." 

Thus  Stn^gle  opens  fire  upon  her  vain  neighbor  across  the 
James. 

Bven  yet  8tru|^le  is  not  satisfied.  Her  next  letter  beg^  by 
saying: 

"Manchester  reminds  me  of  a  young  dwarf  with  a  broken 
back  and  a  grey  head." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


68  STRUGGLE  LETTEHS 

She  then  proceeds  to  mention  certun  defects  in  the  people 
of  the  town; — certain  respects  in  which  they  fall  far  below 
the  mark.  She  says  they  lack  enterprise;  that  only  a  small 
portion  of  the  children  are  b^ng  educated  and  very  few  of  ita 
young  men  aspiring  to  profesaonal  life  and  thus  she  goes  on 
in  the  hope  of  shaming  them  out  of  thdr  sloth  and  inflaming 
them  with  new  ambitions. 

The  letters  worked  a  revolutjon.  The  town  became  dia- 
Batiafied  with  itself  and  b^!;an  to  brush  its  sbaggling  locks 
and  to  deck  itself  in  clean  and  attractive  attire.  It  had  indeed 
caught  a  fresh  ambition  and  entered  upon  a  new  career. 


In  a  revival  meeting  during  Qie  Summer  at  the  H<q>^ul 
Church  in  Louisa  County  Mr.  Hatcher  showed  his  gift  for 
touchii^  the  vital  spot  in  men  and  in  this  case  the  results 
were  unspeakably  rich.  In  the  meetings  at  the  country  church 
there  was  a  very  bright  young  man  who  had  refused  to  be  a 
christian.  Mr.  Hatcher  walked  to  him  in  the  church  <me  day, 
leaned  over  to  him  and  in  a  brief  conversation  sud,  "I  believe 
that  the  reason  you  will  not  become  a  christian  is  because 
you  are  afraid  you  will  have  to  preach."  The  young  man 
almost  collapsed  under  the  thrust  and  admitted  the  truth  of 
the  charge.  Mr.  Hatcher,  seeing  that  only  heroic  treatment 
would  meet  the  case,  put  the  two  following  alternatives  before 
the  recalcitrant  young  man.  He  asked  him  to  read  upon  his 
knees  that  night  at  his  home  the  51st  Psalm  and  then  on  the 
spot  either  decide  for  Christ  or  else  write  in  his  Bible  "Resolved 
that  I  will  never,  never  become  a  christian"  and  then  throw 
his  Bible  in  the  fire.  The  youth  accepted  the  challenge.  On 
the  next  day  he  came  out  and  made  his  pubhc  confesmon  of 
Christ  and  a  few  weeks  later  Mr.  Hatcher  heard  an  early 
knock  at  day  break  at  his  Manchester  door  and  there  stood 
this  same  young  man,  who  said:  "I  came  to  tell  you  good  by; 
I  am  on  my  way  to  the  Theological  S^ninary  at  Greenville 
to  study  for  the  ministiy." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CALL  TO  BALTIMORE  69 

But  this  was  only  the  first  chapter  in  a  stoiy  that  had  many 
happy  sequels  some  of  which  will  be  told  later. 

It  ia  interesting  to  note  how  quickly  Mr.  Hatcher  adjusted 
himself  to  the  new  dtuation  created  by  the  victory  of  the  North 
over  the  South.  He  emptied  his  heart  at  once  of  its  enmities 
against  the  North,  classed  himself  as  an  American  and  held 
himself  ready  to  give  a  brother's  grasp  to  any  one  from  the  other 
side  who  entertained  a  similar  fraternal  feeling.  Some  one  writes 
that  soon  after  the  war  Mr.  Hatcher  "went  to  Philadelphia 
and  eaktering  a  building  where  a  group  of  ministers  were  con- 
veraing  he  advanced  with  outstretched  arm  and  open  palm 
saying:  'The  war  is  over — now  lets  shake  hands.'  " 

He  had  drunk  the  bitter  dregs  of  defeat — as  his  Southern 
brethrai  had  done — and  the  experience  nearly  killed  him; 
but  his  face  was  now  towards  the  future  and  he  embraced 
every  opportunity  that  came  to  him  for  rebinding  once  more 
the  two  torn  and  bleeding  sections. 

A  second  call  from  the  Franklin  Square  Church  of  Baltimore 
was  successful  and  in  its  issue  of  Feb.  7th  the  Reli^ous  Herald 
(A  Richmond  contained  the  following: 

"Rev.  Wm.  E.  Hatcher  on  last  Sunday  resigned  the  pastoral 
care  of  the  Baptist  Church  in  Manchester,  having  accepted  a 
call  from  the  Franklin  Square  Baptist  Church  Baltimore.  We 
congratulate  our  Maryland  friends  believing  that  brother 
Hatcher  will  be  a  power  among  them  as  he  has  been  for  some 
years  among  us." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  VII 

BALTIMOUE  PASTORATE.     LECTURE  ON  THE  DANCE 

1867-1868 

It  was  a  hazardous  step  which  this  young  preacher  was 
taking  in  uprooting  himself  from  his  native  state  where  he 
was  gaining  such  a  good  foothold  and  transplanting  himself 
in  another  state  whose  religious  conditions  were  vastly  dif- 
ferent from  those  which  he  was  leaving  in  Virginia.  He  had, 
however,  lived  a  life  of  stress  and  turmoil  in  Manchester.  His 
members,  with  a  few  exceptions,  trod  the  humbler  walks  of 
life,  many  of  them  working  in  the  factories.  In  Baltimore 
he  found  a  membership  in  which  there  was  both  wealth  and 
culture,  and  many  royal  homes  into  which  he  delighted  to  go. 
In  the  size  of  membership,  the  prominence  of  the  church  and 
the  social  privileges  afforded,  the  Baltimore  pastorate  was 
much  superior  to  the  pastorate  which  he  had  left;  but  on  the 
other  hand,  Baltimore  was  a  CathoUo  stronghold,  the  Franklin 
Square  church  was  badly  located  and  the  church  itself  had 
been  sorely  shaken  and  torn  by  issues  connected  with  the 
Civil  War.  Be^dcs,  the  Baptists  were  one  of  the  weakest 
denominations  in  the  city;  but  in  spite  of  unfavorable  con- 
ditions he  plunged  enthusiastically  into  his  new  work  and 
was  very  happy  in  it,  Virginia  seemed  to  have  retwned  a 
part  interest  in  his  services,  however,  and  was  frequently  calling 
him  back  for  some  form  of  ministerial  service.  The  Warrenton 
Church  claimed  him  for  revival  meetings  where  he  found  a 
new  friend,  Rev,  H.  H.  Wyer,  another  one  of  those  noble, 
kindred  spirits  to  whom  his  soul  became  knit  in  an  unbroken 
friendship. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BALTIMORE  PASTORATE  71 

He  brought  with  him  from  Manchester  a  bright  attractive 
boy,  Harvey  Nmmally,  who  lived  in  bis  home  in  Baltimore. 

During  the  Summer  Rev.  Geoige  B.  Taylor,  hia  soul's 
beloved,  paid  him  a  visit  of  several  days  and  he  tells  of  two 
of  their  indulgences.  One  day  they  made  a  mutual  agreement 
that  each  would  criticize  the  other;  that  they  would  first 
take  time  for  reflection  and  then  fire  off  their  indictments. 

"It  fell  to  my  lot"  writes  Mr.  Hatcher  "to  begin  'the  butch- 
ery,' and  I  raked  up  everything  that  I  could  think  of  against 
him  and  bore  down  upon  him  with  unsparing  candor,  though 
to  my  loving  eyes  he  was  full  of  nobleness.  He  took  my 
criticisms  in  excellent  part  and  chatged  me  with  not  doing  him 
justice — not  by  reason  of  my  severity,  but  on  account  of  my 
'weak-eyed  partiahty.'  When  his  turn  came  to  dissect  me  he 
ignobly  fied  from  his  task.  The  strife  for  once  threatened  to 
grow  sharp  between  us  as  I  charged  him  with  not  doing  me 
fairly.  He  laughed  a  most  disarming  laugh  and  said  be  was 
color-blind,  in  part  at  least,  and  could  not  see  the  faults  of 
friends. 

"Dr.  Taylor  suffered  much  from  vocal  weakness,  or  rather 
from  speaking  in  a  higher  key  than  nature  designed  should 
be  used.  My  partial  study  of  voice-culture  enabled  me  to 
make  him  aware  of  his  mistake.  Kia  eagerness  to  correct 
the  error  was  most  interesting  and  was  in  line  with  his  vital 
pasdon  to  do  his  best  in  everything.  We  spent  many  hours 
in  making  the  correction  effective  in  his  case  and  by  Ids  patience 
he  achieved  a  really  unusual  victory  and  he  wrote  a  remarkable 
article  in  the  pubUc  press  in  which  it  was  made  clear  that  he 
had  studied  the  matter  to  the  bottom  and  bad  won  by  using 
his  unple  information." 

He  had  been  warned  before  comii^  to  Baltimore  to  beware 
of  the  great  and  colossal  Dr.  Bichard  Fuller,  pastor  of  the 
Seventh  Church,  who  was  said  to  be  not  only  inaccessible  to 
young  preachers  but  often  cold  and  unsympathetic  towards 
them.  To  one  of  these  doleful  counselors  he  bluntly  replied: 
"Well  I  do  not  expect  to  sleep  with  Dr.  Fuller  and  I  shall  not 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


72  LECTURE  ON  THE  DANCE 

Kipect  anything  of  turn  that  he  does  not  choose  to  do  for  me." 
He  also  added  that  he  felt  himself  a  young  colt  with  no  deare 
"to  be  yoked  with  the  great  American  lion  of  America."  But 
he  had  many  pleasant  experiences  with  the  old  Doctor.  There 
was  nothing  so  interesting  to  him  as  a  human  being  and  when 
the  particular  himian  was  such  a  king  among  men  as  Dr. 
Fuller  he  f^rly  reveled  in  the  contact.  He  tells  of  a  visit  that 
the  Doctor  paid  him  soon  after  coming  to  Baltimore, — a 
visit  which,  he  says  "had  in  it  so  much  of  a  man  and  was  bo 
ccHirtly,  BO  delicate,  bo  free  from  patronage  and  eo  rich  in 
brotherly  cheer  that  I  could  have  gone  out  on  the  hills  and 
shouted  all  by  myself." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  he  prepared  a  lecture  which  at- 
tained sudden  and  wide  popularity, — a  lecture  which  traveled 
up  and  down  Virginia  for  several  years.  Many  were  the 
church  debts  that  it  helped  to  pay:  many,  the  women's  so- 
cieties and  missionary  bands  whose  treasury  it  helped  to 
swell.  The  subject  of  the  lecture  was:  "The  Advantages  of 
the  Modem  Dance"  and  its  treatment  showed  humor,  wit 
and  satire. 

Dr.  J.  C.  Hiden,  probably  one  of  the  ablest  literary  critics 
among  the  Baptists  in  that  day  writes; 

"If  anybody  in  Portsmouth  did  not  hear  Rev.  Wm.  E. 
Hatcher's  lecture  in  the  Court  Street  Baptist  church  recently 
then  he  missed  a  specimen  of  genuine  satire.  We  have  seen 
very  little  true  satire  in  this  country;  and  all  imitations  or  af- 
fectations of  it  are  especially  disagreeable.  But  we  must  confess 
that  the  satire  which  we  enjoyed  on  that  occasion  is  very  much 
to  our  taste.  It  differed  essentiaily  from  Juvenal's  fierce  in- 
vective in  which  we  can  not  see  much  satire;  and  from  the  mis- 
anthropic spleen  of  Swift  which  makes  us  sorry  for  the  satirist 
who  has  worked  himself  up  into  such  a  rage.  It  is  such  a  picture 
of  the  extravagances,  the  caprices,  the  somersaults,  the  airs 
and  the  graces  of  would  be  fashionable  dancers  as  must  attract 
attention  wherever  delivered.  It  is  worth  a  whole  volume 
of  sermons  against  worldly  amusements  and  we  think  is  more 
effective  than  all  the  sermons  against  dancing  that  we  have  ever 
heard  with  all  the  tracts,  essays  and  newspaper  articles  thrown 
in  so  as  to  make  weight. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LECTURE  ON  THE  DANCE  73 

"The  audience  was  the  largest  that  we  have  seen  here  on  any 
simiUr  occasion  and  was  entertained  from  beginning  to  end." 

Hia  lecture,  in  waging  war  agwnst  the  modem  dance,  sur- 
prised the  audience  by  it«  mode  of  attack.  It  declared  that 
tile  advantages  of  the  dance  accrued  to  the  Doctors — in  the 
ailments  that  it  produced  in  its  victims;  to  the  Merchants — in 
the  lavish  expenditures  of  attire  and  eatables  which  it  neces- 
atated ;  and  to  all  lovers  of  democracy  by  the  breaking  down 
of  all  social  distinctions  and  the  jumbling  together  on  a  level 
of  all  the  dancers.    He  began  by  saying: 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen, — So  far  as  I  know  I  am  the  first 
man  to  venture  upon  an  American  platform  as  the  friend  and 
champion  of  the  Dance,     .     ,     ." 

After  speaking  of  the  opposition  raised  against  the  indulgence 
he  continues:  , 

"The  pulpit  has  burled  its  solemn  anathemas  agunst  it. 
Churches  have  deliberated,  resolved  and  legislated  and  some- 
times have  seized  the  nimble  footed  lovers  of  the  Dance  and 
compelled  them  to  execute  the  celebrated  back  step  movement 
by  which  they  were  shuffled  from  the  visible  church  into  the 
populous  country  of  the  heathen  and  the  pubhcan. 

"Hard  hearted  fathers,  fastidious  mothers  and  dyspeptic 
guardians  have,  in  at  least  a  million  of  cases,  resorted  to  threats, 
bribes,  bolts  and  bars  to  preserve  these  giddy  responsibilities 
from  its  supposed  contwninations.  Books,  magazines  and 
papers  have  poured  forth  flood-like  over  the  earth  for  the  express 
puipose  of  showing  the  abstract  sinfulness  of  shaking  one's 
feet. 

"Against  this  array  of  leagued  opposition  I  do  most  boldly 
and  defiantly  set  my  face,  I  mean  that  the  Goddess  of  the 
Dance,  so  long  the  victim  of  oppression  and  injustice,  shall 
find  in  me  a  deliverer.     .     .     ." 

After  painting  the  difference  between  "the  Dance"  and 
"Dancing,"  he  mentions  the  things  that  every  Dance  must 
have: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


74  LECTURE  ON  THE  DANCE 

"FirBt  it  must  have  a  place. 

"Second,  it  muBt  have  a  time.  It  is  sufficient  for  me  to  eay 
that  its  chosen,  if  not  iis  only  time,  is  night,  and  that,  with 
greatest  possible  modesty,  it  asks  for  all  night  or  at  least  as 
much  of  it  ae  remains  after  the  perfonuance  begins. 

"Third,  it  must  have  Music.  .  .  .  Anything  from  a 
first-claaa  Band  to  a  dilapidated  banjo  will  be  acceptable.  Can- 
dor, however,  compels  me  to  say  that  of  ail  inatnimenta  respected 
in  the  romping  kingdom  of  the  Dance,  Jack  Dowdy's  fiddle  is 
the  favorite.  Its  first  premonitory  creak  ravishes  every  ear  and 
quickens  every  tongue  and  starts  every  toe. 

"Fourth,  the  Dance  must  have  men  and  women,     .     .     , 

"I  submit  as  my  first  proposition  in  favor  of  the  Dance 
that  it  is  lughly  beneficial  to  the  medical  profession." 

He  then  declares  that  doctors, — ^whom  he  calls  administra- 
tors of  "castor  oil,  ipecac  and  calomel" — must  have  a  Iwing, 
that  their  expenses  are  heavy  and  they  must  therefore  have 
money,  their  business  must  in  some  way  be  stimulated  and 
he  thus  proceeds  to  tell  how  it  can  be  done. 

"Gather  up  all  the  young  people;  let  the  young  men  cram 
themselves  into  tight  boots  and  tight  pants  and  tight  collars — 
and  to  make  the  picture  true  to  nature — let  them  be  tight  gen- 
erally; let  the  girls  dress  themselves  as  tightly  and  as  lightly  and 
as  slightly  as  possible;  send  for  the  indispensable  Mr.  Dowdy 
and  require  them  to  begin  at  eight  o'clock  and  skip,  hop,  whirl 
and  leap  all  night  long, — except  one  hour  at  midnight  which 
is  to  be  employed  in  crowding  their  delicate  little  stomachs 
with  such  delicious  poisons  as  frozen  lemonade,  French  candy 
and  fruit  cake.  Let  the  dance  occur  in  a  room  that  is  close  and 
hot.  Dismiss  the  party  just  in  time  for  them  to  come  in  contact 
with  the  damp  chill  air  of  the  early  morning  in  returning  home. 

"This  plan  acts  like  magic.  Its  results  are  not  always  rapid 
but  inevitable.  Sure  as  the  night  was  made  for  sleep;  sure  as 
over  exertion  is  more  injurious  in  the  night  than  in  the  day, 
sure  as  raw  air  is  fatal  to  a  relaxed  system,  so  sure  will  these 
nocturnal  revelries  make  work  for  the  doctor.  His  harvest 
may  not  come  in  a  day,  but  come  it  will  in  the  Neuralgia,  Bron- 
chitis, Rheumatism,  Dyspepsia,  Catarrah,  Pneumonia  and 
Consumption  of  the  dancer. 

"I  announce  as  my  second  proposition  that  the  dance  is 
the  patron  of  Commerce. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LECTURE  ON  THE  DANCE  75 

In  speaking  of  the  preparations  of  dreaa  for  the  dance  he 
says: 

"The  young  men  must  have  their  white  vests,  cropped- 
tailed  coats,  fancy  pants,  new  gloves,  plastic  boots  of  requisite 
slippers.  Their  moustaches  must  be  trimmed,  rubbed,  dyed 
and  twisted  and  their  hair  must  be  shampooned,  cut  and  spht 
open  behind.  The'  old  bachelor,  or  widower,  must  be  taken 
through  the  identical  process  with  the  addition  of  dye  for  the 
hair  and  sometimes  dead  hair  for  the  head,  perfume  for  the 
breath,  braces  for  the  shoulder  and  cotton  for  the  toes." 

He  passes  next  to  the  attire  and  adommenta  of  the  young 
ladies, — but  the  above  will  give  an  idea  of  the  plan  and  style 
of  the  lecture  which  closes  with  the  following: 

"If,  however,  you  desire  a  sound  body,  a  full  purse,  select,  safe 
and  refined  associations,  a  pohtenees  which  springs  from  modesty 
and  intell^ence  and  a  piety  undwarfed  by  the  foul  air  of 
doubtful  endulgence  then  I  do  say  with  kindly  but  mightiest 
emphasis  that  you  must  never,  never,  never  dance." 

"What  a  time  we  had  that  night"  writes  Rev.  S.  M.  Provence 
who  heard  the  lecture  at  the  First  Church  Richmond  in  1867. 
"From  that  time  I  have  heard  you  whenever  I  could." 

He  delivered  the  lecture  in  Richmond  in  1868  and  a  secular 
piqier  of  Feb.  6th,  1868,  after  describing  it  as  a  "perfect  kaleido- 
scope of  wit  and  humor,  satire  and  sarcasm,  interwoven  with 
gri^hic  and  life-like  portraitures,"  added  "The  proceeds  of 
the  lecture  here  were  devoted  to  the  ministenal  students  of 
lUcbmond  CoUege  and  to  the  Dorcas  Society  of  the  Leigh 
Street  Church." 

He  discovered  that  he  had  left  a  large  part  of  his  heart  in 
Vu^^nia  when  one  day  his  door  bell  rang  and  a  committee  from 
the  first  Church  of  Petersbui^,  Virginia  were  ushered  in  and 
sou^t  to  capture  him  for  their  church.  He  thus  describes  his 
feelings  upon  the  occadon: 

"A  Virginian  is  a  stark  fool  to  everybody  except  to  Vir- 
ginians.   Other  people  may  feel  as  they  please  but  only  a  Viiv 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


76  CALL  TO  PETERSBURG 

ginian  knows  how  a  Vir^boiaa  feels..  I  bad  fooled  myself  to 
death  in  believing  that  I  was  happy  out  of  Virgima  but  the 
spirit  of  about  twelve  generations  of  Virginians  lay  Bullea  aad 
restless  within  me.  It  gave  me  time  to  enjoy  my  delusions  for 
a  season  but  when  the  gateway  of  the  Old  DoninJoa  fiew  open 
and  I  saw  the  track  clear  and  straight  before  me  I  felt  tiiat 
the  millennium  was  at  band.  All  this  may  sound  Like  idiotic 
prattle  to  an  outsider  but  let  him  rave.  He  doesn't  understand 
it  at  all." 

In  a  short  while  the  tidings  went  forth  that  the  Franklin 
Square  pastor  had  accepted  the  Petersburg  call. 

He  says  "I  walked  the  mountain  heights  of  rapture."  Not 
that  his  Baltimore  pastorate  had  not  brought  him  rich  jojrs, 
nor  that  his  work  bad  not  been  amply  rewarded,  but  'N^rgmia 
was  the  place  where  he  was  to  work  out  his  destiny  and  the 
fact  seemed  to  break  like  a  revelatitm  upon  him.  What  he 
wrote  about  Dr.  Jeter  seems  to  ^ply  equally  well  to  himself: 

"An  invisible  hand  guides  our  steps,  call  it  what  we  will 
There  is  a  subtle  force  which  dominates  our  life  and  determines 
our  course.  It  is  stronger  than  our  caprices  and  mightier  than 
our  purposes.  It  shifts  us  from  our  chosen  track  and  thrusts 
us  into  atuations  of  which  in  advance  we  could  never  have 
dreamed. 

He  had  at  this  time  two  children, — Eldridge,  his  first  bom, 
who  was  nearly  three  year?  old  and  his  daughter,  May,  who 
was  a  few  months  old. 

"My  life  was  very  h^py  in  Baltimore"  writes  his  wife. 
"It  was  a  beautiful  city  and  choice  friendshms  were  formed 
there  which  it  hurt  me  grievously  to  sever.  I  was  coming  to 
love  it  more  and  more." 

Some  <Mie,  writing  regarding  his  Commeocemait  address, 
during  this  Smnmer,  at  the  Roanoke  Femide  Institute  in 
Virginia,  said  "Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher,  gave  the  piece  derenstance 
of  the  bill  of  fare — unique,  picturesque,  humorous,  impressve. 
But  you  know  him." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


FBTEBaBURG.       PERSISTENT  DRILL  IN  SERMON  MAKING  AND  IN 
LITE&ASr  COMPOemON.       INTEREST  IN  BOYS. 

In  going  from  Baltimore  to  Petersbui^  he  went  from  a  city 
of  over  200,000  to  a  city  of  less  than  20,000.  Petersburg,  about 
20  miles  from  Richmond,  was  a  quiet,  conservative  city,  but 
filled  with  choice  people  and  delightful  homes,  the  First  Baptist 
church  having  in  it  some  of  the  finest  families  of  the 
city. 

From  the  b^inning  his  heart  was  set  upon  having  a  great  re- 
vival for  his  church,  and  in  the  Spring  his  efforts  bore  fruit 
in  a  rich  revival.  For  eight  or  nine  weeks  the  meetings  con- 
tinued, services  being  held  evety  night,  he  himself  doing  the 
preaching.  The  entire  city  was  stirred,  many  of  the  stores 
being  closed  during  the  afternoon  services. 

"On  Sunday,"  aays  a  writer  in  the  Herald  of  June  3rd,  "I 
witnessed  the  most  important  scene  that  has  ever  taken  place  in 
the  Rret  Baptist  Church  of  this  city  [Petersburg].  Sixty  three 
were  given  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  and  the  attendance 
at  the  Communion  was  the  largest  ever  witnessed  in  this 
city." 

At  tlus  time  his  soul  flamed  with  an  ambition  to  make 
great  sermons  and  he  went  into  sijecial  training.  It  was  in 
Petersbui^  that  he  formed  Ms  sermonic  and  literary  style. 

His  study  was  up  in  the  tall  tower  of  the  church.  How  grim 
and  dai^  it  looked  to  me  at  nights!  With  its  tortuous,  un- 
Ugfated  st^rway  and  its  gloomy  heights  it  was,  to  my  boyish 
imagiaatjwi,  the  place  where  the  booger  men  and  aasasans 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


78  FORMING  LITERARY  HABITS 

were  lurking  in  the  Bhadows  to  pounce  upon  my  Papa  as  he 
came  down  those  many  windit^  steps  fr<mi  his  study  and  out 
into  the  open  six  so  very  late  at  night.  My  only  thought 
about  the  study  was:  "How  brave  is  my  Papa  to  go  up  there 
every  night  by  himself."  But  I  did  not  understand.  It  was 
there  that  he  was  foi^g  his  homiletical  habits  utd  drilling 
his  pen  for  its  future  tasks. 

"How  I  would  hate"  said  his  wife  "to  see  him  get  up  from 
supper  table  every  night  to  go  to  his  study,  there  to  stay  until 
nearly  midmght  and  leave  me  so  lonely  at  home  and  yet  I 
knew  it  was  for  the  best  and  I  did  not  complfun." 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  he  came  to  wield  a  pen  which 
Dr.  F.  C.  McConnell  said  "charmed  and  instructed  the  whole 
world.  .  .  .  That  facile  pen,  trenchant  aa  plea^g,  shall 
never  be  equalled,  certainly  within  many  generations"  aa.d 
Dr.  John  Clifford  of  London,  who  is  very  probably  the  leading 
Baptist  minister  in  Europe,  told  an  American  visitor  in  London 
that  he  read  everything  he  saw  from  the  pen  of  "W.  E.  H." 
Scores  and  probably  hundreds  told  William  E.  Hateher  the 
same  thing. 

"Of  all  those  arts  in  which  the  wise  excel, 
Nature's  chief  masterpiece  is  writing  w^l." 

His  method  of  work  was  frequent  rewritings  of  sermons  and 
addresses.  He  said  that  he  wrote  one  address  over  twenty 
times.  It  was  this  ceaseless,  remorseless  tugging  at  his  aea.- 
tences  and  paragraphs  that  gave  him  Ms  final  mastery  over 
his  pen.  In  composing  his  sentences  he  would  seem  to  chal- 
lenge every  word.  All  that  troup  of  infirm,  worn-out  words 
and  phrases  that  wait  at  the  door  of  every  writer  and  do  ser- 
vice on  all  occasions  he  had  no  welcome  for.  He  simply 
would  not  use  them,  unless  he  found  that  there  were  no  better 
ones  to  be  had.  He  would  hold  the  truth  glowii^  before  his 
mind  while  he  rapidly  searched  right  and  left,  high  and  low, 
for  just  that  word  or  group  of  words  that  would  best  flash  forth 
th«  truth  bdore  the  reader.     And  then  after  he  had  put  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HR8.  WILLIAM  E.  HATCBER 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


FORMING  LITERARY  HABITS  79 

truth  on  paper,  he  would  still  prune  and  resh^ie  its  sen- 
tesicea. 

It  is  reported  that  Cicero  studied  hard  and  labored  to  "biii^ 
his  sentences  to  the  hij^est  polish"  always  insisting  upon  the 
opportunity  for  ample  in«paration  before  he  delivered  a  public 
discourse.  He  found  himself  however  engaged  to  deliver  an 
address  before  the  Assembly  on  a  certain  occasion  and  the 
hour  for  the  address  drew  near  when  he  was  far  from  being 
ready.  At  this  moment  one  of  his  servants  brought  him  the 
announcement  that  the  meeting  of  the  Assembly  had  been 
postponed  for  a  day  and  be  was  bo  overjoyed  at  this  news 
that  he  gave  the  slave  his  life's  freedom. 

Blessed  is  the  man  who  is  ready  when  his  task  comes  and  such 
readinesB  is  the  result  of  grinding  drill  and  toil  in  secret. 

"True  ease  in  writing  comes  from  art  not  chance 
As  those  move  easiest  who  have  learned  to  dance." 

Men  differ  in  thdr  methods  for  attaining  the  bluest  style 
in  writing.  "Voltaire  always  had  lyii^  on  his  table  the  petite 
Careme  of  Massillon  and  the  tragedies  of  Racine — the  former 
to  fix  his  taste  for  prose  composition  and  the  latter  for  poetry." 
From  the  early  centuries  comes  a  gleam  of  counsel  from  Long- 
inus  who  says: 

"Think  how  Homer  would  have  described  it;  bow  Plato 
would  have  imaged  it  and  bow  Demosthenes  would  have 
expressed  it.  .  .  and  you  have  a  standard  which  will  raise 
you  up  to  the  dignity  of  any  thii^  that  human  gemns  can 
aspire  to." 

We  are  not'  admitted  into  the  literary  or  homiletical  work- 
shop of  the  Petersbui^  pastor  and  yet  he  does  drop  some  faints 
as  to  his  methods. 

"A  noble  thought"  says  he  "may  sicken  for  lack  of  vigorous 
expression.  Trim,  polish  and  refine  every  paragraph,  sharpen 
every  sentence  to  the  keenest  edge  and  let  each  word  bear  part 
in  giving  body  to  thought." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


80  FORMING  LITERARY  HABITS 

He  shrank  from  loading  his  sentences  with  uaeleea  luggage. 
He  declared  war  against  adjectives  and  branded  them  ae  his 
enemy.  They  swarmed  about  his  pen  and  with  fairest  pro- 
mises clamored  for  enlistment.  He  had  in  his  earher  days 
yielded  to  their  channs  but  his  productions  had  suffered  ship- 
wreck at  their  hands.  For  a  fresh,  lustrous  adjective  he  had  hi^ 
respect.  He  kept  his  scouts  ever  busy  searchii^  for  such  and 
when  found  they  met  a  bounding  welcome. 

"We  admire  adjectives"  he  writes  "They  are  the  fringes  and 
ruffles  on  the  vesture  of  thought,— somewhat  useful  and  greatly 
ornamental.  Young  mothers  have  been  known  to  smother 
their  babies  with  a  profusion  of  dress;  but  even  that  is  not  so 
distressing  as  the  sight  of  a  youthful  genius  crushing  his 
ideas  beneath  a  mountain  of  comparatives  and  superlatives," 

It  was  this  daily  drill  which  not  only  gave  him  his  literary 
style  but  which  enabled  bira,  in  the  long  stretch  of  hrs  later 
Ufe,  to  compose  with  such  ease  on  the  platform  or  in  the  pulpit. 

A  gifted  woman  writes: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  possessed  a  wonderful  vocabulary.  I  always 
devoured  everjthirg  he  wrote.  Sometimes  I  s^d:  'He  must 
have  an  edition  de  luxe  of  Webster  Unabridged'.  No  one  knew 
better  than  he  how  to  couple  words  which  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes  said  'had  loved  each  other  from  the  cradle  upwards,'  '* 

The  Herald  of  that  day  says: 

"Brother  Hatcher  of  the  First  Baptist  Church  Petersburg 
teaches  a  Bible  class  of  twenty  five  men  in  the  Sunday  School 
and  also  has  charge  of  a  class  in  an  afternoon  mission  school. 
He  meets  a  class  of  one  hundred  once  a  week  to  whom  he  gives 
instruction  in  vocal  music."  After  leaving  Petersburg  he 
never  taught  in  the  Sunday  School. 

Two  weeks  later  this  paper  stated  "The  First  Baptist  Church 
of  Petersbun;,  Va.  .  .  pays  the  pastor  $1,800  and  is  pro- 
posing to  increase  it  to  $2,000,  The  salary  is  paid  quarterly 
in  advance." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


"THE  MTJRDEHESS  AND  HER  DAUGHTER"81 

I  find  among  his  papers  the  manuscript  of  a  sermon  ap- 
parently prepared  at  about  this  time.  It  shows  the  usual 
marks  of  care  in  preparation;  the  sheets  are  stitched  to- 
gether. The  sermon  is  entitled  "The  Murderess  and  her 
daughter"  and  thus  begins: 

"The  chronicles  of  the  world  can  show  no  blacker  page  than 
that  which  contains  the  history  of  the  Herods.  Their  name  is 
rank  with  infamy." 

He  thus  describes  the  entrance  and  the  dance  of  Salome: 

"But  Hush;  'Stand  back'  the  entering  herald  cries.  'Stand 
back'  he  cries  yet  louder,  for  the  party,  flushed  with  wine  and 
mad  with  revehy,  are  slow  to  hear.  'Stand  back',  he  ohouts  in 
tones  of  thunder  'and  let  the  Princess  of  beauty  do  honor  to 
our  kii^.' 

"Wide  open,  ea  by  mt^c,  springs  the  door  amid  strains  of 
music  and,  like  aftury  queen,  bounds  forward  the  elastic  and  fas- 
cinating dancer,  Salome.  She  trips— she  glides — she  spina — she 
circles— she  whirls — she  leaps — she  swims.  A  thing  of  un- 
earthly beauty  glittering,  flashing  and  enchanting  she  floats 
about  the  royal  parlor,  now  here,  now  there,  now  yonder — 
everywhere,  although  her  task  performed  she  droops  in  charm- 
ii^  weariness  at  the  feet  of  Herod  to  catch  his  admiration  and 
rewards. 

"Her  request  is  granted." 

The  sermon  closes  with  the  description  of  the  bloody  climax. 

His  next  door  neighbor  was  a  family  whose  members  belonged 
to  his  church.  He  had  recraitly  told  them  a  ghost  story  of  some 
medical  students  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  stealing  from  a 
grave  yard  the  body  of  a  big  negro.  He  told  how  they  brought 
the  dead  body  secretly  to  the  Medical  college,  lugged  it  to  the 
cellar  door  and  with  a  long  and  careful  swing  hurled  it  through 
the  door  and  over  into  the  darkness  and  depths  of  the  cellar 
and  to  their  horror,  as  the  big  body  struck  the  bottom  of  the 
cellar,  it  gave  a  loud  and  sudden  groan.  That  groan  was  the 
shock  and  chmax  of  the  story. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


82  THE  WEIRD  STORY 

One  Sunday  night  during  the  summer  he  was  ratting  on 
his  porch  after  returning  from  church.  In  a  little  while  he 
became  aware  tliat  the  high  porch  of  his  next  door  neighbor 
was  filled  with  people  and  that  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  family 
was  telling  the  above  mentioned  ghost  story.  She  was  taking 
her  time  uid  was  describing  minutely  the  decision  of  the 
students  to  go  out  some  night  in  search  of  a  body.  He 
knew  what  was  coming.  He  slipped  to  the  back  of  hla  house 
and  came  quietly  around  under  the  high  porch  of  his  neighbor 
where  be  crouched  and  listened.  The  lady  was  foiling  ahead 
with  the  story  and  was  standing  and  gesticulating  to  make 
her  narrative  more  vivid.  She  came  near  the  chmax  as  she 
said : '  'the  young  men  came  to  the  cellar  door  with  the  big  black 
body  and  they  began  to  swing  the  body  so  as  to  gjve  it  a  mo- 
mentum and  they  swung  it  out  and  down  into  the  darkness 
and  when  the  body  struck  the  ground  the  body  said" — and  jurt 
as  she  reached  that  point  and  before  she  could  utter  the  next 
word,  Mr.  Hatcher  under  the  porch  gave  forth  a  most  pro- 
di^ous  and  dismal  groan  that  fairly  woke  the  echoes  on  the 
porch.  Miss  -  ■  ■  -  -  dropped  in  their  midst,  as  if  struck  down 
by  the  ghost  himself,  and  terror  took  full  charge  of  the  situation. 

In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Hatcher,  barely  able  to  smother  the 
storm  of  laughter  that  was  threatening  him,  managed  to  get 
himself  quickly  away  and  a  few  minutes  later  down  the  street 
from  the  direction  of  his  church  he  came  whistling  a  tune  and 
looking  the  picture  of  innocence. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hatcher"  they  cried  from  the  porch  "Come  here 
quick"  and  he  hastened  to  the  front  gate  whither  they  all 
rushed  from  the  porch.  "Oh  Mr.  Hatcher  let  me  tell  you"  they 
began,  several  talking  at  <Hice  and  immediately  they  proceeded 
to  lay  before  him  in  all  its  ghastliness  their  experience  of  the 
last  few  minutes,  to  all  of  which  their  pastor  listened  with  the 
most  childlike  interest," 

Whether  he  dispelled  thdr  illuraon  that  night,  or  on  the 
morrow,  my  recollection  breaks  down  at  this  point  and  the 
reader  must  put  his  imagination  on  duty  for  the  reet.    But 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


GIVING  A  BOY  A  TRIP  83 

I  do  know  he  had  rolUcking  times  with  thetn  ofterwiurds  when 

he  would  request  Miss to  tell  him  the  story  about 

that  midnight  haul  from  the  graveyard." 

To  have  seen  him  at  his  best  during  these  days  one  should 
have  caught  him  on  a  trip  with  a  boy.  One  day,  for  example, 
he  rang  the  door  bell  of  one  of  his  members  and  called  out  to 
the  mother:  "Tell  Charley  to  have  his  valise  packed  and  him- 
self ready  at  the  7:30  trwn  Tuesday  morning  if  he  wants  to  go 
with  me  to  the  Portsmouth  Association  for  a  three  day's 
trip."  The  mother's  eyes  as  well  as  lips,  gave  forth  her  glad 
respcmse  as,  after  a  few  other  words,  Dr.  Hatcher  hurried  away. 
Great  news  she  would  have  for  Charley — "A  trip  with  Dr. 
Hatcher."  What  talks  of  preparation  the  family  had  that  day. 
Plain  people  they  were  and  little  Charles  was  a  sprightly  well 
behaved  lad.  But  he  had  hardly  had  a  bright  visit  anywhere 
in  all  his  days.  Other  boys  had  told  him  of  their  trips.  Of 
course  he  was  ready  on  Tuesday  and  the  father  had  him 
at  the  depot  in  good  time. 

AndsuchatripitwasforCharley.  Howfine  itwastojumpon 
the  train  and  go  ghding  along  out  of  Petersburg;  he  was  intro- 
duced to  preachers  on  the  train  and  nobody  had  ever  done  that 
for  him  before — and  then  the  ride  from  the  country  station  to 
the  church  and  the  big  wide  country  how  glorious  it  was — and 
it  looked  as  if  Dr.  Hatcher  was  thinking  more  about  him  than 
he  was  about  himself — and  it  seemed  that  nearly  everybody  who 
spoke  to  Dr.  Hatcher  also  spoke  to  him — and  the  Association — 
welt,  the  speeches  in  the  church  got  a  httle  tiresome  and  he  was 
so  glad  that  Dr.  Hatcher  after  the  service  introduced  him  to 
seven  other  boys — and  then  the  dinner  oa  the  tables  in  the 
yard  with  its  clucken  and  ham  and  pies  taxd  cake — and  Dr. 
Hatcher,  although  he  was  all  the  time  shakit^  hands  and  talk- 
ing to  people,  yet  seemed  determined  that  the  boy  should  have 
something  of  all  the  good  thii^s  that  came  around  as  he  would 
tell  the  women  about  his  Petersburg  boy  that  he  had  brought 
along — and  that  made  them  so  kind— and  after  that   second 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


84  GIVING  A  BOY  A  TRIP 

Bervice  it  looked  as  if  so  many  people  wanted  Dr.  Hatcher  to 
go  home  with  them  that  night — and  that  ride  from  the  church 
behind  those  fine  horses — and  those  boys  at  the  house  where 
they  went  and  Dr.  Hatcher  makii^  Mm  run  out  with  them  and 
have  a  good  time  and  that  big  orchard  of  apples — and  those 
grapes — and  the  fine  supper  and  the  nice  room  that  Dr.Hatcher 
and  he  slept  in  and  then,  next  day,  the  ride  to  the  church  and — 
Oh,  but  didn't  he  hate  to  leave  it  all  and  go  back  to  Petersburg 
but  Dr.  Hatcher  said  he  would  take  him  agEun  some  time — 
and  what  times  he  had  at  home  telling  and  telling  and  telling 
of  his  "big  trip  with  Dr.  Hatcher". 

Does  any  one  doubt  that  the  sparkling  eyes  of  that  boy,  his 
happy  talk,  and  comradeship  put  youth  and  bouyaney  into 
the  heart  of  Dr.  Hatcher  as  he  sought  not  only  to  give  the  boy 
a  trip  about  which  he  could  talk  and  dream  for  months  to  come, 
but  also  to  drop  into  his  heart  helpful  and  inspiring  influences? 
That  boy  from  that  day  had  an  open  mind  and  heart  for  the 
pastor. 

One  day  he  was  in  a  brother  pastor's  home  when  this  pas- 
tor told  him  of  the  poor  health  of  one  of  his  little  boys.  "Let 
him  go  with  me  on  my  trip  to  the  mountains"  said  Dr.  Hatcher. 
He  went  and  upon  his  return  showed  marked  improvement. 
He  has  often  spoken  of  the  happy  hours  spent  with  Dr.  Hatcher. 
He  hved  to  fill  some  of  the  high  offices  in  the  state.  He  toved 
to  take  a  boy — a  lonely  boy,  a  boy  with  a  hard,  barren  life — 
and  give  him  a  gloriously  happy  time. 

It  was  during  his  Petersbui^  pastorate  that  he  held  a  meet- 
ing at  the  Tucker  Swamp  church  where  he  had  an  interesting 
experience  with  a  country  boy.  This  boy,  Walter  P  Hines, 
now  a  Southern  pastor,  thus  tells  the  story: 

"About  two  years  after  my  converaon  I  heard  on  a  Monday 
morning  that  Dr.  Hatcher  was  at  old  Tucker  Swamp  church 
in  a  meetii^.  Nothing  would  do  but  that  I  must  go  to  the 
meetii^  that  very  day.  With  my  father's  consent  I  saddled 
old  Fanny,  the  gray  mare,  and  went  off  in  a  swift  gallop  for 
the  church.    The  hour  was  late  and  I  thought  if  I  went  around 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HAPPY  WITH  BOYS  85 

the  road  I  should  mias  the  morning  sermon,  so  I  put  out  down 
the  mlroad  track,  it  being  a  short  cut  to  the  church.  The 
section  boss,  Mr.  Jim  Holland,  saw  me  and  manned  his  band- 
car  and  put  out  after  me.  After  a  chase  he  overtook  me  and 
informed  me  that  it  was  against  the  law  to  ride  on  the  track 
and  be  would  have  to  arrest  me.  But  I  left  the  track  and  took 
to  the  woods  and  made  my  way  out  to  the  road.  When  I 
returned  home  I  went  to  the  section  boss  and  apologized,  and 
he  smiled  and  told  me  not  to  do  that  again  because  it  wa'^ 
dangerous. 

"After  a  hard  ride  I  reached  the  church,  hitched  old  Fanny 
to  a  tree  and  got  in  the  house  in  time  to  hear  the  text  announced. 
So  soon  BB  the  audience  was  dismissed  I  rushed  up  to  Dr. 
Hatcher  and  he  took  me  in  his  arms.  I  am  sure  I  was  the 
happiest  boy  in  that  church. 

"I  spent  three  happy  days  with  Dr.  Hatcher,  going  to  the 
home  in  which  he  was  entertained  at  night,  and  5ien  reluct- 
antly turned  old  Fanny's  head  towards  home.  In  my  young 
heart  my  father  was  fint  and  Dr.  Hatcher  next.  Often  in  my 
home  I^.  Hatcher  urged  my  father  to  make  every  sacrifice 
necessary  to  educate  me." 

"He  was  always  the  boys'  beloved  companion  and  inspira- 
tional friend,"  says  Dr.  C.  T.  Hemdon,  "He  possessed  the 
power  to  breathe  into  them  the  purest  and  best  manhood.  No 
youtji  ever  came  in  touch  with  Dr.  Hatcher  but  that  he  was 
shown  the  beauty  and  might  of  pure  and  cultivated  man- 
hood." 

One  day  there  waa  a  knock  at  his  study  door  and  a  boy  about 
fourte^i  years  of  age  walked  in.  The  boy  in  later  years  in 
telling  about  hia  viat  says:  "Dr.  Hatcher  wheeled  around  in 
bis  chiur  and  took  me  on  his  knee  and  with  his  arm  around  me 
said:  'Tell  me  your  trouble  my  boy!'.  He  got  my  confidence 
at  once  and  I  would  have  told  him  anything  then.  He  bap- 
tized me  on  the  next  Sunday  night".  That  boy's  name  was 
Hugh  and  he  is  today  Dr.  Hugh  C.  Smith,  pastor  at  Bedford 
City  and  Cl^k  of  the  Baptist  General  Assodation  of  Vii^ 
ginia. 

Hundreds  of  boys  he  took  with  him  on  a  walk,  or  a  ride,  or 
a  trip  to  a  dedicaticm,  an  Association,  a  lecture,  or  a  protracted 
meeting.    It  was  this  that  kept  the  fountains  of  his  own  life 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


86  INFLUENCING  BOYS 

fresh  and  sparkling.  He  caught  the  boy's  spirit.  He  took 
their  point  of  view.  He  felt  the  thrill  of  their  radiant  natures  and 
refreshed  his  tired  soul  by  drinking  from  their  spontaneous  Ufe. 

He  took  me  with  him  to  Richmond  one  day  and  on  the  train 
he  su^^ested  that  I  sit  by  the  window  on  one  side  of  the  car  and 
he  would  sit  by  the  window  on  the  opposite  side  and  that  we 
would  both  count  the  houses  on  our  respective  adea  to  see 
which  one  would  count  the  largest  number  of  houses.  A 
gentleman  said  to  me  recently:  "Dr.  Hatcher  could  be  a  boy 
with  boys  and  he  could  be  a  man  with  men." 

He  went  to  Caroline  county  to  marry  a  couple.  Among  the 
visitors  at  that  wedding  was  a  boy  who  today  is  an  honored 
B^tist  minister, — Dr.  Andrew  Broaddus  who  thus  writes  re- 
garding himself  and  Dr.  Hatcher: 

"It  was  at  a  wedding  where  music  and  mirth  prevailed.  A 
young  preacher  present  quietly  passed  his  arm  around  a  timid 
boy  and  drawing  him  to  his  side  spoke  a  few,  tender  words  to 
him  about  his  soul.  The  memory  of  those  words  will  abide 
with  me  through  the  coming  years." 

How  many  hundreds  of  such  timid  boys  were  drawn  to  this 
preacher's  side  and  made  to  feel  that  there  was  a  great  heart 
interested  in  them  and  heard  words  that  followed  them  through 
all  the  years. 

Bev.  Robert  H.  Winfree  in  a  published  address  said:  "If  I 
were  a  sculptor,  and  could  put  into  granite  what  was  the 
crowning  glory  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  life  I  would  carve  in  granite 
his  strong  and  manly  form  holdii^  out  a  helping  hand  to  a 
struggling  youth  and  lifting  him  into  power  and  usefulness." 

He  himself  writes: 

"I  have  known  boys— lovely  beautiful  boys — fair  hfured, 
bright  browed,  with  rich  joyous  laughter— with  love  beaming 
out  of  their  eyes — with  boyish  honor  written  on  their  faces- 
reared  in  the  nursery  of  motherly  love — trmned  to  prayer, 
charity  and  virtue — full  of  modesty,  gentleness  and  worldly 
excellences : 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


IN  WEST  VIRGINIA  87 

"And,  Oh  sorrow!  I  have  seen  those  boys  fall.  In  temptation's 
hour  they  have  become  the  victims  of  diimkemieaa,  debauchery 
gaming  or  9ome  other  ^n.  What  a  melancholy  tr^iaformatioa. 
A  few  brief  years  at  most  of  sinful  indulgence  withered  all  that 
was  lovely  about  them  and  changed  the  once  innocent  and 
lovely  boy  into  a  blighted,  wicked,  debased,  foul-mouthed 
blackhearted,  demonieed  monster." 

It  was  the  picture  of  such  a  poanble  doom  that  drove  him 
to  the  rescue  of  the  young  lives  around  him.  His  Petersburg 
pastorate  was  not  marked  by  heavy  thunder  nor  dazeling 
lightnii^,  but  was  rather  after  the  fashion  of  the  quiet, 
steady  stars.  He  was  the  beloved  pastor  of  a  church  that  was 
rich  in  spiritual  and  social  gifts  and  in  denominational  ac- 
tivities. He  kept  his  finger  on  every  department  of  Sunday 
School  and  church  work  and  in  the  city  nearly  every  man 
was  his  friend.  His  eye  swept  the  circle  of  the  surrounding 
counties  and  their  churches  were  frequently  calling  him  to  their 
aid  for  sermons,  addresses,  lectures  or  revival  meetings. 

He  attended  the  West  Virginia  Baptist  State  Association 
and  while  there  he  preached  on  Sunday  morning.  In  com- 
pany with  a  large  group  of  ministers  he  si>ent  that  night  in  one 
of  the  homes  of  the  city  where  two  of  the  ministers  began  an 
argument  over  the  question  as  to  whether  animals  bad  any 
mind  or  not. 

"They  do  have  minds"  said  Mr.  Solomon  "and  I  can  prove  it. 
A  friend  of  mine  had  a  pet  crow  which,  like  all  crows,  would 
steal  things  and  hide  them  away.  It  soon  learned  to  watch 
and  see  if  any  one  was  looking  before  it  committed  a  theft 
and  when  caught  it  would  show  in  its  face  signs  of  remorse." 
Dr.  Hatcher,  who  up  to  this  time  had  said  notiiing  remarked: 
"Brother  Solomon,  that  is  most  remarkable.  Does  it  not 
only  prove  that  the  crow  has  an  intellectual  but  also  a  moral 
nature, — a  consciraice  and  that  he  is  a  sinner  and  ought  to 
have  the  gospel  preached  to  him."  At  that  Mr.  Solomon  fiew 
into  a  rage  and  said:  "I  did  not  mean  to  turn  this  discussion 
into  ridicule"  "Oh,  No"  repUed  Dr.  Hatcher  "Neither  did  I. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


88  THE  CROW  AND  THE  DOG  STORIES 

Let  me  tell  you  of  a  very  reli^ouB  dog  which  a  friend  of  mine 
owned.  This  dc^  was  a  regular  attendant  at  church  and  seemed 
to  enjoy  religious  aervieea  very  much.  There  was  an  old 
deacon  in  that  church,  however,  who  had  no  sympathy  with 
the  camne  species  and  turned  the  devout  dog  out.  One  morn- 
ing, this  dog,  which  had  been  driven  from  the  sanctuary, 
sat  on  the  door  steps  looking  into  the  church  most  wistfully 
showii^  evident  signs  of  religious  persecution  in  its  face;  but 
he  kept  one  eye  on  the  deacon  and  one  eye  on  his  master 
until  the  deacon  became  E^>sorbed  in  the  sermon  and  then  he 
shpped  in  quietly  and  sat  down  by  his  master  and  enjoyed 
the  woiship.  At  the  close  of  the  sermon  the  pastor  called  on 
the  deacon  to  pray  and  the  dog  jumped  up  and  indignantly 
walked  out." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


CHAPTER  IX 


tee  ueuorul   movement.     the   ambulance   corps.     uncle 
banta's  vibit.    the  boys'  UEETINQ. 

In  1872  the  Virginia  Baptists  inaugurated  a  memorable 
movement.  Their  College  at  Richmond  had  been  abnost 
wrecked  by  the  war  and  it  was  decided  to  wage  a  campaign 
through  the  state  for  raising  $100,000 — a  vast  sum  in  those 
days — for  the  reUef  of  the  College.  Dr.  Hatcher  sprang  into 
the  undertaking  with  the  fire  and  dash  of  a  school  boy,  and 
went  from  point  to  point  through  the  state.  "It  was  one  of 
the  most  electric  and  resistless  movements  that  the  eyes  of 
Virpnia  Baptists  had  ever  seen,"  he  writes.  "Dr.  J.  L.  Bur- 
rows, one  of  our  imperial  chieft^na,  was  put  at  the  head  of  the 
forces  and  with  boundless  enei^  and  never  wavering  courage 
he  ted  us.  .  .  .We  of  the  pastorate  and  some  of  the  spell 
binders  of  the  pew  got  up  mighty  speeches  and  we  fairly  shook 
the  state."  His  church  gave  him  to  the  memorial  campaign 
from  November  until  the  following  Jime,  Sundays  excepted. 
"Dr.  Hatcher  of  Petersburg"  sdd  a  secular  paper  "poured 
forth  one  solemn  storm  of  eloquence  at  the  Portsmouth  Asso- 
ciation." In  his  swing  around  the  state  he  ^icountered  varied 
experiences.  One  of  them  not  only  had  its  amuEong  side,  but 
it  showed  his  skill  in  handling  an  obdurate  old  dtizen  who 
was  in  his  audience: 

"I  was  engaged  to  present  the  college  matter  to  a  prominent 
country  church  in  Tidewater  Virfplnia.  News  came  Uiat  a  cer- 
tain brother,  usually  most  friendly  with  me,  was  nursing  a 
well-articulated  grudge  against  the  college  and  might  take  it 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


90  THE  MEMORIAL  CAMPAIGN 

out  on  me  when  I  came  for  the  collection.  When  I  alighted 
at  the  front  of  the  church  I  saw  this  brother  standing  apart, 
gloom  and  battle  clouding  his  visage.  I  went  out  of  my  way 
to  greet  him  and  got  the  chill  of  the  graveyard  as  my  reward. 
I  almost  felt  the  point  of  lu8  rapier  in  my  flesh,  but  I  had 
bu^esa  ahead,  and  went  on  into  the  church.  He  entered  the  - 
house  also,  and  by  every  step  and  attitude  proclaimed  liimself  a 
wofully  abused  and  wretched  man.  He  took  hia  seat  near 
the  pulpit  and  maliciously  turned  his  back  on  me.  I  saw 
pain  in  the  face  of  the  saints  and  a  wanton  grin  among  the 
Gentiles.  My  address  that  momii^  touched  Baptist  history 
and  doctrine.  It  was  full  of  interest  to  the  great  bulk  of  Bap- 
tist people  present.  My  irate  brother,  who -bad  turned  his 
back  to  me,  faced  the  coi^regation  and  could  see  that  his 
feeling  was  not  shared  by  others.  He  was  quite  a  pronounced 
Baptist,  and  now  and  then  some  strain  of  my  talk  would  stir 
him  and  he  would  peep  around  without  thinking.  Others 
marked  it  and  smiled,  and  then  he  would  draw  back  and  re- 
sume his  defiant  ur.  It  went  on  as  an  odd  by-play  until  I 
threw  out  some  fragment  of  truth  quite  f^eeable  to  him.  He 
hstcned  eagerly  and,  glancing  around,  saw  several  brethren 
in  tears.  Instantly  he  broke  into  weepii^  and  suddenly  wheel- 
ing about,  he  faced  me  the  rest  of  the  time  and  looked  as  if 
newly  converted,  as  I  verily  believe  he  was.  The  atmospheric 
sentiment  of  the  congregation  dissolved  his  antagonisms  and 
brought  him  in.  At  the  close  of  the  sermon  he  gave  a  handsome 
offering  for  the  college  fund.  Moreover,  he  went  to  the  great 
memorial  meeting  in  1873  in  Richmond  as  a  delegate,  and  the 
following  September  entered  his  son  in  Richmond  College  as  a 
student.  There  was  a  conquering  and  assimilating  spirit  in 
that  glorious  campaign." 

An  imperial  service  was  held  at  the  College  in  connection 
with  the  cimipajgn.  It  was  called  the  Memorial  Service  in 
memory  of  ttie  heroic  Baptist  forefathers  who  had  not  only 
made  possible  the  College,  but  in  the  Colonial  days  had 
founded  the  Denomination  in  the  state.  From  all  over  Virginia 
came  the  Baptist  ministers  and  laymen  and  the  exercises  were 
held  on  the  College  campus  where  seats  had  been  temporarily 
constructed  for  the  multitude.  Virginia  Baptists  have  seldom 
witnessed  such  a  day  as  that.   Dr.  J.  L.  M.  Curry,  was  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DR.  J.  L.  M.  CURRY  91 

orator  and  Dr  Hatcher  writes  a  description  of  the  occaaion 
and  his  words  show  the  ardor  and  fire  with  which  his  own 
soul  was  burning.  It  was  characteristic  of  him  to  dedicate 
his  whole  heart  to  an  enterprise  when  once  he  had  championed 
it  and  on  that  Memorial  Day  no  one  was  more  sympathetic 
or  enthusiastic  than  he.  His  portrait  of  Dr.  Curry  reSects 
bis  own  spirit.  "The  rusty  old  lock,"  which  he  mentions,  came 
from  the  Culpeper  Jail  where  James  Ireland,  a  heroic  Baptist 
preacher,  had  been  imprisoned  for  his  faith  in  the  Colonial 
days.    But  let  him  paint  the  picture: 

"Curry  was  in  his  prime  then — in  person  kingly  and  beau- 
tiful. His  hair  was  barely  touched  with  alver  as  it  rioted  over 
his  brow.  His  voice,  in  spite  of  cruel  misuse,  was  mighty  as  a 
warrior's  trumpet  and  with  all  thought  of  politics  out  of  him 
in  those  days,  he  was  instinct  with  high  religious  convictiona 
and  loaded  with  a  mighty  message  for  the  Baptist  brotherhood 
massed  before  him  in  such  multitude  on  that  high  day. 

"Ah,  how  he  towered  aa  he  told  it.  It  had  a  rich,  a  gladsome 
soimd.  There  was  no  note  in  it  at  all  ajar.  The  people  did 
about  everthing  that  was  allowable  on  such  an  occasion  to 
express  their  pride  and  rapture.  They  sometimes  laughed, 
sometimes  cried,  sometimes  spoke  in  their  uncontrollable 
excitement,  sometimes  burst  into  fragmentary  praises,  or 
ejaculatory  prayers,  sometimes  grasped  hands  and  swapped 
fellowship  without  ceremony  and  sometimes  they  seemed  to  do 
all  these  things,  and  several  others  besides,  all  at  the  same 
time. 

"When  Dr.  Curry  drew  out  the  rusty  old  lock  of  Ireland's 
palace  at  Culpeper  (as  the  famous  old  minister  called  his 
prison)  and  turned  its  key  until  its  grating  note  smote  the 
public  ear  I  thought  the  tent  would  have  to  go.  A  cri^s  was 
at  hand — the  crowd  stood  up  in  forgetful  intensity  and  suited 
and  cried  and  fairly  melted  under  the  orator's  peroration.  The 
Baptists  were  enjoying  their  independence  that  day.  They 
had  s  new  taste  of  liberty  and  life  was  at  high  tide. 

"It  would  warm  the  old  hearts  to  call  the  roll  of  those  who 
were  on  hand  that  day.    The  chiefs  of  the  tribes  were  on  hand." 

That  Memorial  camptugn  marked  the  dawning  of  a  new  career 
for  Richmond  College  and  today  she  stands  unsurpassed  among 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


92      LETTER  TO  DR.  J.  A.  CHAMBLISS 

the  Colleges  of  the  South.  He  held  revivtil  meetings  ia  the  Fall 
at  the  Second  Church  in  Richmond  and  afterwards  wrote  the 
following  chatty  letter  to  Dr.  J.  A.  Chamblias  who  had  been 
pastor  of  that  same  Second  Church : 

"Dec.  23rd,  1873. 
"Why,  my  dear  Cham: 

"Howdy!  How  do  you  do?  How  is  Mrs.  Cham?  little 
Chams,  all  well?  Any  new  Chams  at  your  house?  Certainly 
am  proud  to  meet  you.  You  took  as  jolly  as  if  folks  had  been 
sending  you  Christmas  gobblers,  fruit  cake  and  cigars. 

"Have  been  thinking  of  you  very  often  of  late.  Couldn't 
help  it.  Been  assisting  in  a  meeting  at  the  Second  Church  in 
Richmond  and  to  save  my  life  I  couldn't  prevent  them  from 
saying  all  manner  of  pretty  things  about  you.  When  the 
sisters  undertook  to  regale  me  with  a  first  class  compliment  they 
would  say:  'You  remind  us  so  much  of  Mr.  Chambliss.'  I 
slyly  intimated  to  them  that  the  comparison  was  not  flattering 
to  mc— which  caused  them  to  roll  their  eyes  and  wonder  if 
insanity  ran  in  my  family. 

"Hospitality  flung  open  the  front  gate  and  gave  me  the  fat 
of  the  land.  I  fear  that  I  grew  far  faster  in  gout  than  in  grace 
during  my  four  weeks  stay  over  there.    The  brethren  who  pull 

's  ears  as  a  mere  pastime  did  not  cross  me.     Old 

man ventured  on  one  solitary  occaMon  to  try  the 

lancet  of  his  asthmatic  satire  on  me.  In  anticipation  of  such 
an  event  I  had  l(ud  in  a  double  charge  of  hot  shot.  He  fied 
at  the  first  fire,  but  I  pursued  and  captured  lum  and  from 
that  time  he  was  my  most  wilhng  slave. 

"Owing  to  an  accumulation  of  visiting  brethren  in  my  study 
I  have  written  not  quite  as  dignified  and  interesting  a  letter 
as  I  had  had  it  in  my  bosom  to  write. 
"Yours 

"Wm.    E.   Hatcher." 

It  was  during  his  Petersburg  pastorate  that  he  and  a  few 
other  young  pastors  formed  a  device  for  reducing  the  conceit 
of  the  self  assertive  preachers  at  the  Southern  Baptist  Con- 
vention. It  came  about  in  this  way.  The  President  of  the 
Convention,  Dr.  P.  H.  Mell,  was  a  parliamentary  specialist. 
U  was  his  book  on  parliamentary  tactics  by  which  the  CoD- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  AMBULANCE  CORPS  93 

vraitioiL  was  governed  sad  be  of  course  bad  every  item  of  tbe 
rules  at  his  fingers'  ends,  and  it  meant  tbe  day  of  doom  for  tbe 
man  who  clashed  with  him  on  a  "point  of  order." 

But  there  were  those  who  rashly  encountered  Mm  on  the 
floor  of  the  Convention,  men  who  thought  that  they  knew 
parliamentary  law  as  well  as  Dr.  Mell  and  that,  as  for  Dr. 
Mell  "the  shrewd  and  overbearii^  maker  of  the  new  par- 
liamentary tactics,  they  could  ^ve  him  lessons  and  a  good  start 
and  then  leave  him  in  the  lurch  in  a  fair  fight."  These  con- 
flicts between  the  parliamentary  champion  and  his  opponents 
oft^i  took  place  on  tbe  floor  of  the  Convention  and  in  nearly 
every  case  "the  brother  on  the  floor"  would  be  ruled  "out  of 
order"  by  the  preadent,  and  would  drop  into  bis  seat  a  crumpled 
and  defeated  contestant.  "A  few  of  us  of  tbe  younger  set" 
says  Dr.  Hatcher  "were  observers  of  the  pretty  little  colliaions." 
It  occured  to  this  little  coterie,  of  which  Dr.  Hatcher  seemed 
to  be  the  f  otmder  and  leader,  that  an  Ambulance  Corps'  ought 
to  be  provided  to  take  care  of  those  who  were  unhorsed  and 
wounded  in  their  conflicts  with  the  parliamentary  president 
"and  bo"  says  Dr.  Hatcher  "we  organized  a  Society  for  the 
"Amehoration  of  the  Squashed  and  Squelched".  Of  course 
the  squashed  and  squelched  were  those  who  had  encountered 
the  master  of  tactics  on  the  parhamentary  field  and  had  fallen 
beneath  the  strokes  of  his  spear.  It  became  gradually  known 
that  this  "Ambulance  Corps"  kept  thdr  eye  ever  on  the  field 
of  battle  and  were  ready  to  rush  to  the  aid  (?)  of  any  one  who 
should  be  "knocked  down"  or  worsted  in  any  of  his  appear- 
ances before  tbe  Convention.  For  example,  at  one  of  the 
sesaons  a  del^ate  told  tbe  members  of  tbe  Corps  that  their 
method  was  brilliant.  He  joked  about  their  "taking  down" 
the  self  inflated  preacher  and  congratulated  tbem  on  the  good 
work  tbey  were  doing. 

"We  accepted  bis  congratulations  with  lofty  reserve"  says 
Dr.  Hatcher  "rebuking  him  for  treating  a  matter  so  grave  in 
a  fashion  bo  trivial  and  told  him  that  he  ought  to  consider 
himsdf  lest  he  also  be  crushed  beneath  the  wheels  of  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


94  THE  AMBULANCE  COEPS 

parliamentary  en(pne.    He  laughed  defiance  in  our  faces  and 
declared  that  he  would  never  be  found  among  the  victims." 

They  came  to  the  last  day  of  the  Convention  and  Dr.  Hatcher 
and  another  member  of  the  Corps  found  themselves  atting 
behind  this  same  self  confident  brother,  who  arose  and  said,  in 


"Brother  Moderator  I  desire  to  offer  a  resolution  to  the 
e£fect  that  the  thanks  of  this  Convention  be  returned  to  the 
rtulroads  and  steamboats  for  reduced  fares  in  the  transpor- 
tation of  delegates  of  this  Convention." 

"The  brother  will  reduce  his  resolution  to  writing"  com- 
manded the  president.  Down  the  brother  sat  and  went  to 
work  on  his  resolution  feeling  at  the  same  time  that  he  ought 
to  have  written  his  resolution  before  offering  it.  But  that  was 
merely  a  skin  scratch  compared  with  the  blow  that  came  from 
a  delegate  who  arose  and  said : 

"Brother  Moderator,  that  resolution  is  proper  enough  in 
its  place  but  while  I  regard  a  railroad  as  one  of  the  great  bless- 
ings of  the  age  and  I  think  a  steamboat  is  a  joy  forever  yet 
I  doubt  whether  the  railroad  or  the  steamboat  could  appre- 
ciate a  vote  of  thanks  from  this  Convention." 

"It  hit  the  author  of  the  resolution"  says  Dr.  Hatcher  "some- 
where in  the  region  of  the  solar  plexus," 

"Put  him  down  and  send  an  order  to  the  Ambulance  Corps:" 
whispered  the  president  of  the  Corps  to  the  secretary.  "What 
is  that  you  said?"  asked  the  perturbed  brother  who  turned 
around  with  his  question  to  the  two  officials  of  the  Corps. 
In  a  very  haughty  and  almost  tragical  mamier  the  president 
of  the  "Corps"  replied: 

"I  must  very  reluctantly  inform  you  that  the  secretary  was 
ordered  to  put  you  down." 

"Put  me  down  where?"  he  protestii^ly  asked.  "There  is 
nothing  the  matter  with  me.  I  am  not  hurt."  In  a  slow, 
deliberate  manner  the  officials  sfud  to  him:    "We  advise  you 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  AMBULANCE  CORPS  95 

not  to  talk  for  there  are  some  veiy  serious  symptoms  in  your 
case.  We  have  already  ordered  the  Ambulance  Corps  to  take 
you  in  chMtje." 

"His  frankness  was  admirable"  says  Dr.  Hatcher  "He  stated 
that  it  would  stick  to  him  forever  if  it  went  abroad  that  he 
had  made  a  fool  of  himself  and  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
AmeUoration  Corps.  It  was  said  that  he  never  got  on  his 
feet  after  that,  though  he  attended  the  Convention  for  years 
afterwards." 

LucUcrous  experiences  attended  the  labors  of  this  group  of 
salva^  benefactors  and  without  doubt  they  caused  many  a 
"swelling  aspirant"  to  think  twice  before  jumping  to  his  feet. 
The  dread  of  becoming  a  passenger  in  the  Am^bulance  wagon 
prevailed  widely  among  the  delegates. 

"There  were  really  no  ofEcers  and  no  organization"  says 
Dr.  Hatcher.  "There  were  not  more  than  five  or  ax  youi^ 
men  in  any  way  connected  with  it.     .  It  was  an  "in- 

tangible and  unlocated  Association.  It  was  understood  that 
when  any  one  of  us  was  assailed  we  could  simply  hold  still, 
if  we  preferred  or  we  could  assume  any  relation  to  the  move- 
meat  that  we  desired".  This  "odd  and  unscheduled"  Society 
played  its  part  for  five  years  and  then,  after  serving  its 
purpose,  it  was  said  to  have  dissolved, — or  rather  it  would 
have  dissolved  but  for  the  fact  that  it  did  not  have  sufficient 
coherency  to  permit  a  dissolution.  It  had  done  its  work,  the 
secretary  was  dischai^ed  and  they  met  no  more. 

In  one  of  the  meetings  of  hia  Petersburg  church  during  his 
absence  on  one  occasion  a  prominent  member  arose  and  said 
regarding  the  heavy  financial  burden  then  restii^  upon  the 
church :  "I  do  not  know  what  we  will  do  unless  we  get  a  cheaper 
pastor."  When  on  his  return,  he  heard  of  this  public  remark 
made  in  his  absence  it  struck  him  a  keen  blow  and  m.ade  Iiim 
indignant  and  he  immediately  sfud  to  his  church,  that  if  brother 
's  remarks  reflected  the  sentiment  of  the  church  his 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


96  SANTA'S  VISIT 

resignation  was  ready  to  be  put  in  tbeir  haiida.  This  brought 
the  church  quickly  to  its  feet  to  repudiate  the  view  expressed 
by  the  brother  and  to  assure  him  of  their  loyalty  and  thus  what 
threatened  to  become  a  storm  passed  off  as  a  mere  ripple  and 
the  stream  of  church  work  flowed  peacefully  along. 

One  morning,  while  I  was  walking  through  the  upstairs  hall, 

I  met  my  father  who  said  to  me — almost  in  a  whisper "You 

have  another  Edster." 

It  startled  me,  but  it  gradually  came  to  my  undeistandlng 
that  little  Kate  Jeter  had  arrived  and  that  she  had  taken  her  name 
from  Mrs.  Dr.  Jeter,  whom  we  called  "Cousin  Kate."  Two 
other  daughters  had  been  bom  to  him, — Virpnia  Mabel  in 
Baltimore  and  Orie  Latham  in  Petersburg — and  a  few  months 
before  his  departure  from  Petersbui^,  a  second  son  was  bom, — 
David  Steel. 

Already  his  love  of  games  was  manifesting  itself.  Often 
would  he  play  croquet  in  the  yard  of  Dr.  Hartman,  and  of  the 
Kobertsona,  and  in  our  home  dominoes  was  very  popular  with 
him.  I  remember  playing  with  him  one  night  until  one  o'clock — 
in  the  wee  small  hours — and  in  every  game  he  was  e^er  to 
beat. 

Christmas  was  a  time  of  jollification  at  our  house  and  he 
was  always  the  Mf^a  Pars  in  its  festivities.  He  arranged 
with  Santa  Claus  to  reach  our  home  on  Christmas  Eve  and 
we  children  noticed  particularly  that  he  taid  Santa  seemed  to 
be  on  extra  good  terms  with  each  other.  At  the  approach  of 
Christmas  he  would  always  get  for  us  some  immense  paper 
bags, — My!  how  big  they  seemedl  These  bags  were  to  hold  the 
presents  from  Uncle  Santa.  They  would  be  opened  wide  and 
set  up  in  a  row  against  the  wall  in  the  front  hall  where  the  old 
gentleman  from  the  Polar  r^ons  ea^ly  could  see  them  when  he 
entered  the  front  door.  Into  these  bi^  he  would  empty  the 
presents  for  the  children. 

How  happy  father  was  in  it  all  as  he  arranged  the  bags 
and  got  us  ready  for  the  anticipated  arrival  of  Uncle  Santa  at 
raght  o'clock  that  night.    A  short  while  before  eight  we  would 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SANTA  ARRIVE6  97 

be  rounded  up  in  the  front  pailor  and  pvea  solemn  wamii^ 
about  our  quiet  behavior  while  old  Santa  was  filling  the  bags 
in  the  hall.  What  jumping  around  and  what  rattling,  gleeful 
chatter  we  bad  as  we  wuted  tn  the  parlor  for  the  wonderful 
arrival! 

"What  was  that  at  the  door?" — Ah,  it  was  the  front  door  bell 
and  our  hearts  stopped  still. 

"There  he  is — ^Unde  Santa!"  said  father  to  us.  "Now  perfect 
quiet  and  let  each  one  remain  right  here  and  I  will  go  out  and 
meet  the  old  gentleman." 

"Ah,  but  didn't  we  hold  opra  our  ears  to  listen,  thouf^  we 
oould  hardly  hold  our  hearts  from  jumping  on  the  outude  of  US. 
We  oould  hear  father  open  the  door  and  thea  say  in  loud  cheery 
tones:  "Why  Uncle  Santa;  how  are  you?  Do  walk  right  in;  a 
thousand  welcomes  to  you."  Of  course  we  did  not  see  Uncle 
Santa.  It  would  have  m.eant  untold  woes  and  disasters  for  us 
if  we  had  looked  through  that  k^  hole.  But  we  heard  him 
plainly  as  he  talked  in  a  high-pitched,  thin  voice.  It  is  true  that 
the  vfNce  at  one  or  two,  places,  when  it  would  drop  down,  soun- 
ded just  a  little  wee  bit  like  father's  voice  but  of  course  we  could 
not  expect  Uncle  Santa's  voice  to  be  entirely  unlike  every  other 
VMce  in  the  world.  In  a  high,  thin  voice  Uncle  Santa  would  say, 
panting  a  little  as  if  he  was  out  of  breath;"  "Well,  I  thought 
<mce  I  might  not  get  here — so  many  places — so  many  young 
ones.  And  bow  are  the  children?"  My!  how  we  did  jump  and 
tmnble  when  he  asked  that. 

"Are  th^  all  well?"  "Oh  yes"  said  the  father  "they  are  in 
tip  top  health.,' 

"And  how  have  they  behaved  since  I  was  here  last  Christ- 
mas?"— ^What  a  fearful  question — we  thought. 

"Oh  they  are  fine  children  Uncle  Santa;  they  ^ro  too  noisy 
sometimes  and  sometimes  they  jump  the  track  of  good  be- 
havior but  I  think  they  are  sorry  and  are  going  to  try  to  rub 
out  and  start  afresh  and  I  think  Santa  that  they  are  about 
the  finest  children  on  the  globe." 

"Ab,  that  is  good  news"  he  said  "and  here  are  scone  things 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


98        HANDING  OUT  THE  PRESENTS 

I  h&ve  brought  with'  me  all  the  way  from  the  f rozm  land  of 
icicles  and  they  are  for  the  children — (Violent  heart  jumpings 
in  the  parlor). 

"Here  are  the  thinga  for  Eldridge" — (roaring  cataracts  and 
internal  convulsicHiB  of  the  first  bom  in  the  parlor).  Father 
called  out: 

"Here  is  Eldridge's  bag,  Uncle  Santa." 

"Hne  are  the  presentsfor  May" — said  Santa  (another  mighty 
commotion). 

"Right  here  ia  her  bag,  Uncle  Santa — how  kind  it  is  in  you 
to  brii^  these  beautiful  things  from  the  far  away  land  of 
blizzards." 

"These  are  for  One"  said  Uncle  Santa — (Exdtement  in  the 
parlor  impossible  of  suppresedon.) 

"Here  is  the  bag  for  Orie"  called  out  father. 

"And  now  lets  see — there  is  another — Yea,  yes,  here  it  ia — 
for  Kate  and  it  goes  into  this  bf^  I  suppose" — (conditions  in 
the  parlor  worse  than  ever)  "But  I  must  be  going;  thousands 
of  homes  are  still  waiting  for  me." 

"I  wish  you  could  stay  with  us  Uncte  Santa," 

"Impossiblel  Give  my  love  to  the  children  and  tell  tliem 
that  if  they  want  to  see  me  next  Christmas  they  must  be  the 
best  children  on  the  deck."  Uncle  Santa  hurried  away:  we 
know  he  did  for  did  we  not  hear  the  door  open  and  then  shut 
with  a  bang, — but  that  was  all  we  cUd  hear  for  the  parlor  door 
was  then  flung  wide  op^i  and  such  scampering  for  those  bags 
and  such  'eager  diving  in  to  thdr  oontoits  and  such  happy 
shouts  over  the  discoveries — and  the  happiest  one  in  the  entire 
party  was  the  father — who  evidently  believed  with  the  childrai: 

Eji.' *;^  ,"At  Chri8tn)as'''play '  and  make  good  cheer, 
For  Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year." 

We  find  him  next  making  a  dash  into  South  Carolina  vi«t- 
it^' Charleston  where  he  delivered  two  sermons  and  a  lecture. 
"You  know  it  was  a  treat"  said  a  writer  in  the  Herald,  "Every- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SERMON  THEMES  99 

body  knows  it  who  has  ever  met  Hatcher."    After  speaking 
of  the  "matchless"  sermon  on  Gideon  he  continued: 

"Monday  night  he  dehvered  his  famous  lecture  on  'The 
Advantages  of  the  Modem  Dance.'  The  house  was  crowded 
and  such  a  time  as  we  had.  I  am  sure  he  never  delivered  that 
lecture  with  more  perfect  success.  He  spoke  fully  for  an  hour 
and  a  half — but  apparently  everybody  waa  wilting  to  at 
another  hour  if  he  would  only  keep  on  with  his  irresistibly 
humorous  though  'squelching'  satire.  But  socially  also, 
the  visit  of  my  friend  and  brother  was  a  joy  to  be  tasted  through 
many  a  day  to  come.  And  not  only  for  me,  but — witness  the 
number  of  bouquets  and  souvenirs  of  different  kinds  with 
delicate  cards  attached  which  came  bo  bis  addresst" 

Very  few  manuscripia  remun  of  the  sermons  which  he 
preached  in  Peteraburg.  The  following  are  some  of  those  few 
which  have  been  preserved. 

Jan.  4th,  1874^"Building  Altars  for  God."     2  Sam.24:25. 

Feb.  lst,1874 — "Bowi:^  in  the  House  of  Rimmon."  2  Kings 
5:18. 

March  2nd,  1874 — "Brii^ing  the  Paralytic  to  Je8u8."Mark 
2:3. 

Nov.  28th,  1874— "Eatii^  at  the  Ku^'s  Table."  2  Sam. 
9:  7,  8. 

Nov.  28th,  1874— "Paul's  Viaon  at  Corinth."  Acts  18«,10. 
Jan.  10th,  1875— "False  Piety".    1  Sam.  15:13,14. 

Jan.  10th,  1875— "David  and  Goliath."    1  Sam  1737. 

Jan.  15th,  1875— "Nathan's  B«proof  of  David."    2  Sam  12:7. 

Jan.   31,    1875— "The  GenUe  Conqueror."    Matt.    12:20. 

The  Petersbui^  climate  played  havoc  with  his  health  in  the 
Summer  of  1874  and  he  was  ordered  off  to  the  Springs.  He  wait 
to  the  White  Sulphur  Springs.  Col.  George  L.  Peyton,  the 
proprietor  of  the  Springs  was  exceedingly  fond  of  him  and 
frequently  ui^ed  him  to  visit  the  Springs  as  his  gueet. 

He  and  his  wife  in  December  celebrated  the  tenth  anniver- 
sary of  their  marriage  by  having  at  their  home  a  "Tin  Wedding." 
Heaps  and  loads  of  tin  were  brought  into  the  house  on  that 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


100  THE  BOYS  MEETINGS 

ooeaatHi.  Oae  of  the  ladies  sent  Mn.  Hatcher  s  slk  drees  (rf 
the  color  of  tiu  to  we&r  at  the  wedding.  The  children  were 
very  happy  over  the  big  tin  barrel  which  was  packed  with  cut 
loi^  sugar.  It  was  tin  in  the  front  parlor  and  tin  in  the 
back  parlor;  tin  in  the  hall  and  tin  in  the  dining  room;  tin  to 
the  l^t  of  us  and  tin  to  the  right  of  ua, — tin,  tin  piled  every- 
where,— even  the  Catholic  priest  being  <Hie  of  the  tin  bearMs 
uid  many  were  tiie  months  that  sped  by  before  the  last  reomast 
of  that  avalanche  of  tin  was  obliterated  from  our  home. 

He  had  hia  Boys  Meetings  every  Sunday  afternoon  in  which 
he  made  large  use  of'Dialogues".  The  dialogues  were  writt^i 
by  himaelt.  They  were  breesy  in  style,  serious  as  well  as 
humorous,  and  treated  of  live  subjects.  The  boys  were  trained 
by  him.  I  r^nember  oos  day  that  a  message  came  from  him  in 
lUchmond  for  his  dialogue  boys  to  be  sent  over  to  Richmond  at 
once, — ^that  they  were  to  give  an  evming's  entertunm^it  at 
the  First  Baptist  Church.  What  a  panic  of  ddight  we  were 
thrown  into  by  the  uinouncementl  What  hurryii^  on  of 
Sunday  clothes  and  what  jubilant  expectancy  was  ours  as  we 
set  out  for  Richmond.  It  was  a  State  Sunday  School  A»- 
Bodation  and  Dr.  Hatcher  had  been  asked  to  take  charge  d 
the  Friday  evening's  pn^p-amme  and  he  decided  to  bring  "his 
boys"  over  for  the  occasion. 

No  time  was  gf^ea  us  in  Petosburg  that  ixy  for  bruahii^ 
up  on  our  pieces  for  we  scarcely  had  time  to  brush  up  our  hair 
or  our  clothes.  We  received  the  hurried  message  and  had 
to  jump  for  t^e  train  in  what  seemed  to  me  a  very  abort  time 
but  probably  the  exhilaration  of  that  trip  gave  double  quick- 
ness to  our  memories  and  put  us  «l  our  mettle.  At  any  rate 
there  was  no  break  down  in  our  Richmond  performancee,  or  if 
such  there  was,  history  has  mercifully  left  it  out.  The 
church  was  filled  to  overflowing  and  we  came  back  to  Peters- 
burg to  tell  of  "the  trip  of  our  Uvea," 

A  few  weeks  later  I  noticed  a  strange  occurr^ee  in  the 
ehurdi  service  one  Sunday  morning.  The  con^pregation  seamed 
tobeattadudwithaD^dunieof  weepiag.  I  understood  it  not. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CLOSES  fETEESBURG  PASTORATE    101 

but  later,  out  in  the  church  yard,  one  of  the  gmtiemen  luud 
to  me — posedbty  in  reply  to  my  oiquiry  regarding  the  red  and 
tearful  eyes — "Your  father  ia  goiiq;  to  leave  Fetereburg.  He 
has  accepted  a  call  to  Richmond." 

Hia  Petersburg  pastorate  had  been  eminently  prosperous 
and  the  devotion  of  the  membership  to  him  had  never  been 
greater  than  at  that  time  but  when  the  door  swung  open  to  the 
larger  pastorate  in  the  Ca{Htal  dty — ^that  of  the  Grace  Street 
Baptist  Church — he  felt  that  there  he  must  do  his  next  work. 
When  his  name  was  bdng  conadered  by  the  Grace  Street 
Church  committee  Dr.  Jeter  in  speaking  about  him  stud  to 
them:  "He  will  never  make  a  flash  in  the  pan." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  X. 


RICHUOMD,       RICHMOND     COLLEGE      ADDRESS.        BOYS        HEETTINO' 
DIALOOUBS. 

His  removal  to  Richmond  lifted  his  minietry  to  a  higher  and 
broader  platform,  Richmond,  at  that  time,  being  the  chief  city 
of  the  South.  His  first  sermon  in  his  new  field  was  preached 
on  the  last  Sunday  in  May.  The  location  of  the  church  was 
ideal,  though  the  structure  was  old  and  without  many  con- 


He  tells  how  he  came  to  be  called  to  Grace  Street: 

"I  came  to  this  church  under  peculiar  circumstances.  My 
predecessor  had  reigned  some  time  before  under  factional 
pressure  and  his  re^gnation  had  been  accepted.  There  was, 
however,  an  ill-suppressed  mutterof  discontent  as  to  the  situation 
and  when  the  committee  appointed  to  recommend  a  pastor 
brot^t  in  my  name  my  predecessor  was  nominated  also  by 
a  member  of  the  church  and  when  the  vote  came  I  was  in- 
gloriously  left  in  the  lurch;  but  the  pastor  re-elect  felt  con- 
strained to  decline  the  call  and  my  name  was  presented  again 
and  I  received  all  the  votes  except  one.  The  lonely  voter  was 
one  of  the  regenerated  oddities  of  the  human  race." 

He  th^i  tells  how  this  recalcitrant  brother  gradually  came 
to  be  his  lover  and  champion.  This  facUonal  element  was  in 
the  church  when  he  came  but  they  seemed  friendly  to  him  and 
jomed  with  the  other  members  in  giving  him  a  bright,  royal 
welcome. 

Immediately  after  entering  upon  his  work  at  Grace  Street 
he  found  himself  in  such  feeble  health  that  he  had  to  betake 
himself  to  the  mountains.    This  was  a  great  disappointment 


.D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


GRACE  STREET 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


COLLEGE  ADDRESS  103 

to  him.  He  had  left  Petersburg  with  malaria  in  his  system 
and  it  threatened  to  put  him  hors  de  combat.  Before  leavit^ 
for  the  iprings  he  showed  his  platform  skill  in  a  very  playful 
and  popular  address  at  the  Richmond  Collie  Commencement. 

"First  of  alt"  says  the  Herald  in  reporting  the  address  "he 
congratulated  the  students,  one  and  all,  upon  their  spotless 
and  irreproachable  conduct  during  the  last  nine  months.  They 
had  not  broken  a  rule,  nor  uttered  an  evil  word,  nor  marked 
a  wall,  nor  rung  a  bell,  nor  joined  in  a  callathump,  nor  tor- 
tured a  gawky  new-comer,  nor  ducked  a  professor,  nor  cheated 
at  an  examination,  nor  invaded  a  strawberry  gaiden,  nor  had 
been  out  at  night,  nor  had  had  ima^nary  headaches,  nor 
borrowed  money,  nor  written  poetry,  nor  done  any  other  ill- 
mannered,  or  immoral  thing.  He  sud  that  they  hsd  not  done 
these  things — at  least,  he  had  not  heard  of  their  doing  them. 
True,  he  had  not  interviewed  the  faculty  on  the  subject  for  he 
thought  his  congratulations  could  be  as  cordial  and  unqualified 
without  such  interview.  And  even  if  some  busy  and  venomous 
tongue  had  whispered  of  irregularities  and  errors  he  could 
hardly  believe  the  rumor,  after  gazing  at  them  that  night, 
looking  so  erect  and  serene,  so  innocent  and  lovely,  so  strong 
and  happy.  But  even  if  some  of  them  had  yielded  to  the 
temptation  be  still  congratulated  them  that  they  had  gone  no 
further  astray  and  that  they  would  now  have  opportimity  to 
gather  their  scattered  virtues  and  fortify  against  the  dangers 
of  next  sesaon. 

"In  the  next  place,  he  congratulated  them  all  on  .the  result 
of  the  examinations,  no  matter  what  the  results  had  been. 
To  the  suceessful  he  spoke  earnest  words  of  approval,  but 
exhorted  them  not  to  imagine  that  they  now  had  the  world 
in  a  sling  and  that  the  sun  would  cease  to  shine  if  Viey  were 
suddenly  to  die. 

"Some  of  them  had  failed  through  their  own  fault,  and  he 
congratulated  them  that  they  had  no  honors  which  they  did 
not  deserve  and  which  would  prove  hurtful  if  thus  bestowed. 
But  he  made  to  this  class  an  exhortation  so  practical  that  we 
fpve  it  m  full: 

"  'Do  the  correct  thing  about  your  f^lure.  Don't  try  to 
whitewfl^  the  case.  Don't  administer  chloroform  to  your 
father  or  mother.  Don't  say  you  were  sick.  Don't  say  you  had 
too  many  ticketa.    Don't  lay  it  on  tiie  profeesors.    Don't  call 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


104  COLLEGE  ADDRESS 

it  a  miafottune.  Above  all,  don't  ascribe  it  to  your  genius, 
and  sneer  at  your  more  succeed]  comrades.  Tliere  was  no 
genius  in  it  except  the  evit  genius  of  indifference.  Tell  bow  it 
was — tell  that  it  was  the  resistleas  fascination  of  lUchmond 
giria — tell  tbat  you  spent  too  much  time  in  airing  your  best 
clothes  on  Grace  and  Franklin  Street — ^tell  how  you  were  too 
food  of  IMckens,  or  baseball,  or  whatever  it  was.  If  you  have 
pluck  and  vim  to  do  better  next  session,  ask  your  father  to 
gjve  you  another  chance  and  come  back  in  September  and  next 
June  you  will  be  here  to  share  the  honors  of  your  Alma  Mater. 
But  if  you  really  lack  the  energy  and  purpose  for  a  new  start 
in  a  vigorous  pace — if  failure  cleaves  to  your  bones — then  ^ve 
my  compliments  to  your  honored  and  unhappy  father,  and 
tell  him  that  my  advice  to  him  is  to  buy  one  of  P.  H.  Starke's 
new  improved  plows  and  elect  you  presdent  of  it," 

"The  speaker  th^i  spoke  words  of  earnest  sympathy  and 
good  cbe^  to  those  who  had  failed  through  no  fault  of  thur 
own  and  said : 

"  'God  bless  you,  my  boy  I  recall  my  ill-chosen  word.  You 
have  not  fuled.  You  missed  the  distinction,  but  you  got  the 
discipline.  Life  is  always  short,  but  long  enough  for  a  steady 
resolute  spirit  to  win  success.  I  congratulate  you  that  there 
is  an  opoii  track  before  you  and  your  past  experience  will 
enable  you  to  run  it.' 

"He  then  congratulated  the  students,  in  ^)propiiate  words, 
on  the  close  of  ^e  session  and  their  return  to  their  homes  and 
•  gave  them  some  facetious  counsel  about  their  country  sweet- 
hearts and  aa  his  address,  he  said,  would  be  incomplete  without 
some  grave  advice,  he  concluded  with  these  three  points: 

"  '1.  Don't  be  in  too  great  a  huiry  to  get  married. 

"  '2  Work  for  the  College.  She  is  your  mother.  She  is  not 
perfect  but  it  is  not  for  a  son  to  tell  a  mother's  faults. 

"  '3.  Be  men, 

"The  above,  mes^re  outline  ^ves  some  imperfect  idea  of  Dr. 
Hatcher's  admirable  address.  Hia  blended  humor,  wit,  satire 
and  pathos  brought  down  the  house  in  loud  applause  and  de- 
lighted the  audience  who  pronounced  it  a  splendid  specimen 
of  a  College  speech." 

He  decided  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  Col.  George  Peyton, 
the  big  souled  and  fun  loving  proprietor  of  the  White  Sulphur 
Sivinga,  where  he  had  enjoyed  a  visil  on  the  preceding  Summer. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


NEVER  FORGETTING  FACES  105 

Hb  arrival  at  the  Springs  on  this  Summer  was  enlivened  by 
a  humoTOUB  incident  of  his  own  devising.  It  dated  back  to  the 
previous  Summer  wben  he  was  at  these  Sprii^  and  when  the 

resident  phyacian  of  the  Springs,  Dr.  M ,  boasted  often 

to  Dr.  Hatcher  and  Col.  Peyton  of  his  ability  to  remember 

faces;    "In  tact"  said  Dr.  M "I  never  foi^  a  face." 

They  spent  many  hours  in  happy  chat  and  the  Doctor  did  not 
ful  at  different  times  to  ring  the  changes  on  his  unfailing 
talent  for  rect^puzing  old  acquaintances.  That  was  in  the 
Summer  of  1874. 

On  the  next  Summer  when  Dr.  Hatcher  arrived  at  the 
^rii^  be  was  pven  a  cordial  greetiiMS  by  Ck»l.  Peyton. 

"How  is  our  friend  Dr.  M ?"  asked  Dr.  Hatcher. 

"Unusually  well"  replied  the  Colonel  "and  it  will  do  him  good 
to  meet  you  again." 

"Is  he  still  rect^niEing  old  acqutuntsnoea?"  The  Colonel 
brolce  into  a  laugh  as  he  said:  "Ah  you  rranember  that  do  you? 
Well  he  surely  will  not  dare  not  to  rect^piiise  you  after  hie 
boasting  of  last  Summer." 

"Suppose,  Colonel,  we  put,  our  heads  together  and  put  the 
old  gentlemen  to  a  good  test."  B£ud  Dr.  Hatcher.  After  a 
brief  council  of  war  the  plot  was  Iwd.  Dr.  Hatcher  was  bimdled 
up  in  a  big  overcoat,  the  lai^e  collar  was  turned  up  and  pulled 
around  the  ears  and  mouth  and  the  slouch  hat  pulled  down 
well  over  the  forehead.  Slowly  they  walked  over  to  the  old 
Doctor's  of&ce. 

"Come  in  gentlemen"  he  called  out  as  he  opened  his  door. 
"How  are  you  Colonel  Peyton;  have  a  chair." 

"Doctor"  said  the  Colonel  "Here  ia  a  friend  of  mine — (Great 
coughing  and  clearing  of  throat  on  the  part  of  the  closely  butr 
toned  up  friend) — a  friend  of  mine,  Major  John  Cutting  from 
Arkansas  who  seema  to  be  much  afflicted  with  some  trouble" 
— (ctHitinued  and  increasing  coughing  by  the  friend  as  if  it  was 
accompanied  with  great  pain.) 

"Oh,  is  that  so?"  said  the  Doctor  somewhat  nervously;  "Too 
bad.  What  seems  to  be  your  trouble,  Major — what  did  you 
say  the  n«me  was  Colonel? 

"Major  Cutting."  "Oh,  yes,  pardon  me  Major;  I  cannot 
alwaya  remend>er  names,  but  a  face  I  never  forget,  never." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


106  RETURN  TO  RICHMOND 

(Violent  coughing  on  the  part  of  the  Major  aa  he  ventured 
to  speak)— "Eh — Doo-tor-I-de — (coughii^)  You  see  (coughing) 
— my  condition  Doctor — eb — eh  what  do  you  think  of  me?" 

"Doctor,"  spoke  up  the  Colonel,  "I  think  I'll  ask  you  to  pause 
just  one  moment;  I  want  to  introduce  an  old  friend  to  you — I 
want  you  to  meet  our  old  friend"  and  here  the  patient  strtughtr 
cned  up,  the  coat  collar  was  turned  down  and  the  hat  Uft^ — 
"Dr.  WilUam  E.  Hatcher." 

He  returned  from  the  Springs  strong  and  eager  for  the  work 
in  his  new  pastorate.  The  presence  of  Dr.  J.  B.  Jeter  in  his 
church  was  worth  to  him  scores  of  ordinary  members.  He 
always  sat  in  the  middle  aisle  not  far  from  the  front. 

"He  rarely  ever  failed  to  be  present  at  both  services  on 
Sunday  and  at  the  prayer  meeting  on  Wednesday  night  unless 
on  duty  somewhere  else.  He  was  a  magnificent  hearer  open 
eyed,  upright  and  eager.  His  smile,  hia  glistening  eyes,  his 
unconscious  bows,  his  falling  tears  and  beating  breast  were 
signals  of  cheer  and  support." 

As  in  Petersbut^,  so  in  Richmond,  he  seemed  to  feel  that 
his  pastorate  would  not  be  properly  launched  until  a  great 
revival  had  come  upon  the  church.  He  prayed  and  worked 
towards  that  end  and  in  November  the  meeting  began  and 
for  ten  wedts  they  continued  witli  the  pastor  doing  the  preaching. 
The  wonderful  nature  of  the  meetings  is  seen  from  the  fc^- 
lowing  statement  from  Dr.  Jeter  in  the  Herald:  "In  a  forty 
years  re^dence  in  the  city,  though  we  have  known  more 
general  revivals,  we  have  not  seen  a  more  pervamve  and  power- 
ful work  of  grace  in  any  one  congregation.  .  .  It  is  fair 
to  estimate  that  250  persons  have  made  a  profession  of  re- 
l>entance." 

His  Boys'  Meeting  soon  began  to  loom  into  large  proportions. 
These  meetings  were  not  only  entertaining  and  instructive 
for  the  boys,  but  the  boys  were  enlisted  in  rumng  money  for 
church  improvements.  It  was  in  lUchmond,  be  said,  that 
his  work  with  the  boys  "rose  to  its  full  height  ...  I  had 
found  my  inheritance  at  last — banks  and  tides  and  storms  of 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  BOYB'  MEETING  107 

boys."  Who  of  all  the  boys  that  attended  those  meetings  can 
ever  forget  them?  No  sooner  was  the  Sunday  dinner  eaten  than 
off  to  the  church  would  dash  the  boys.  In  front  of  the  church 
door  they  gathered  and  surged  in  happy  chatter  until  the  ar^ 
rival  of  tiie  pastor  who  usually  came  up  with  a  squad  that  had 
accumulated  around  him  as  he  came  down  the  street.  The 
door  was  opened  and  in  they  scampered,  piling  into  the  benches 
in  lively  clatter  and  taking  unlimited  time  is  getting  settled 
in  thdr  seai«.  What  bustle  and  life  was  therel  The  air  seemed 
vibrant  with  energy.  How  the  boys  did  sii^  and  what  eager- 
eyed  attention  they  gave  to  whoever  got  on  the  platform, — 
that  is  provided  he  put  in  his  speech  gumption  and  eaap.  The 
boys  could  not  be  kept  from  the  meetings.  Attractive  though 
their  homes  might  be  yet  on  Sunday  afternoon  there  was  a 
magnet  that  pulled  them  out  of  their  homes  and  around  to 
Grace  Street. 

Playmates  might  whistle  at  their  front  gates  or  ring  their 
door  bells  for  a  visit  on  Sunday  afternoon  but  these  youthful 
callers  were  ^ther  wheeled  into  line  for  Grace  Street  Chiu%b,  or 
else  the  visit  was  sidetracked  for  another  occasion.  That  Boy's 
meeting  was  the  bright  particular  spot  for  them  after  dinner 
on  Sunday. 

"The  moth^is  said  that  they  could  hardly  hold  the  boys 
until  th^  got  their  dinner  and  that,  you  know,  is  a  well  ni^ 
incredible  £ing  to  say  about  a  normal  boy"  writes  Dr.  Hatcher. 

There  was  an  oi^anist  and  a  chorister  to  lead  the  boys  in 
their  ain^ng  and  it  was  roaring  mumc  that  they  would  have. 
Sometimes  there  were  solos  by  popular  visiting  singers.  Oft- 
times  the  boys  gave  aolos  or  duets  or  quartettes.  Speakers 
innimierable — many  of  them  distinguished — were  mustered 
into  service  for  a  speech  to  the  boys. 

A  prominent  educator, — a  Methodist — said  recraitly  "I  am 
one  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  boys.  My  mother  did  not  know  what  to  do 
witJi  me  oa  Sunday  afternoons.    Our  neighbor's  son  asked 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


108  TRAINING  THE  BOYS 

me  to  go  with  him  to  Grace  Street.  I  went  and  continued  to 
go  for  three  years.    I  love  the  manory  of  Dr.  Hatcher." 

In  many  parts  of.  the  world  to-day  are  ministers  whose 
hearts  kindle  at  the  recollection  of  those  meetings.  For 
otample  Rev.  T.  V.  McCall  says: 

"Somehow  I  feel  that  of  all  the  boys  who  came  under  Dr. 
Hatcher's  infiuence  in  old  Grace  Street  Church  I  must  have 
profited  most.    He  trained  me  in  the  Boys  Meeting." 

Of  oourse  he  sought  to  put  spice  and  sparkle  in  the  meetingB. 
There  was  a  freedom  and  spontaneity  in  the  exerdsee,  and  ottesa. 
a  ripple  of  fun  would  break  over  tiie  proceedings,  though  ii^ 
reverence,  or  unseonly  levity  was  never  permitted.  For 
rumple  one  afternoon  <me  of  the  boya — Jeter  Jones — when 
the  roll  had  been  called,  said:  "Dr.  Hatcher  we  have  exactly 
99  boya  present.  If  we  had  only  one  more  boy  we  would  have 
one  hundred." 

"Here  is  Clarkson"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  as  he  pointed  to  a  tad 
of  great  altitude.  If  we  will  cut  him  in  two  we  will  have  the 
one  hundred.  A  storm  of  lav^htn  broke  uixm  the  boys  as 
they  looked  at  Clarkson  and  yet  the  bantering  of  Clarkson  was 
in  such  jovial,  kindly  vein  that  he  j^nned  in  the  joke  and  laughed 
with  the  others. 

He  trwned  them  in  rumng  m^mey,  one  of  their  methods 
h&ng  that  of  securing  htmorary  members,  each  of  whom 
should  pt^  ten  cents  per  month. 

The  boys  were  drilled  in  public  speaking  and  once  a  year  they 
would  have  their  public  anniversary  in  the  church  auditorium. 
The  boys  would  be  in  full  charge  of  the  programme, — one 
actii^  BB  presiding  officer,  another  delivering  the  address  of 
welcome  and  many  of  them  taking  part  in  the  dialogues,  Dr. 
Hatcher  having  writtm  all  the  pieces  and  having  truned  the 
boys.  It  was  sud  that  these  celebrations  by  the  boys  unearthed 
many  members  who  had  not  been  at  church  for  a  long  time  and 
whom  nothing  else  oould  attract.  At  one  of  these  celebrations 
a  boy  came  out  on  the  platform,  advanced  to  the  front, 
started  to  make  his  bow,  when  he  stepped  back  and  looked 


D.qit.zeaOvGO(^lc 


BOYS'  ANNUAL  CELEBRATIONS     109 

around  in  a  daaed  fashion.  Another  boy  approached  him  and 
dananded  to  know  why  he  waa  standii^  there  Looking  so 
scared. 

"You'd  be  scared  too"  he  replied  "if  you  saw  ghosts  in  l^e 
audience  as  I  do.  I  see  members  of  the  church  here  tonight 
who  I  thought  had  been  dead  for  years  and  yet  here  they  are 
toni^t." 

One  of  these  "ghost"  members,  upon  meeting  him  one  day 
said:  "Dr.  Hatcher,  I  do  not  like  the  outuda  of  our 
church." 

"Yes"  he  replied  "and  you  dont  seem  to  like  the  inside 
ather." 

Let  us,  in  ima^nation,  look  in  upon  one  of  these  annual 
celebralioDS  by  the  boys.  The  building  was  usually  crammed 
with  people, — on  the  Boor  and  in  the  galleries.  At  the  ap- 
pcnnted  moment  out  steps  a  boy  upon  the  high,  broad  pulpit 
platform,  and  in  bud  tones  calls  out: 

"Ladies  and  goitlemen":  and  then  follows  a  five  minutes 
Address  of  Welcome  after  which  he  announces,  "The  next 
item  on  the  programme  is  a  dialogue  on  'What  we  are  going 
to  be'  by  George,  Leon,  James,  Jeter  and  others.' " 

He  steps  back  to  his  seat  at  the  rear  of  the  pulpit  while  every 
eye  is  fixed  on  the  aide  door.  Out  oomes  "George"  who  moves 
to  the  front  of  the  platform  saying  with  a  shout:  "Hurrah  for 
mel  I  feel  as  happy  as  Julius  Caesarl" 

"You  do?"  said  another  boy  who  had  come  on  the  platform 
from  the  other  door;  "You  make  such  a  racket  I  thought  you 
bad  swallowed  a  cyclone  and  it  was  toying  to  work  out  at 
your  mouth." 

Oeoige — "Well,  I  sm  rather  noisy  tonight,  but  I  cant  help 
it.  I  feel  h^)py  in  my  bones.  A  big  thing  happened  at  our 
house  to-day." 

Leon — ^"What  was  itT  Did  your  mother  whip  your  father; 
or  did  you  have  scalloped  monkey  for  dinnerf' 

George — "Father  informed  me  that  I  might  quit  school  and 
go  to  work.    Aint  that  gloriouBt" 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


110  -  DIALOGUES 

Enter  James 
Jamea — "What  do  you  mean?  Are  you  goii^  to  gjve  up  your 
chauce  for  an  education?    You  are  a  very  slim  pattern  for  a 
business  man.  What  are  you  gcHog  to  be?" 

Enter  Jeter 
Jetei^— "Going  to  be?    I  tell  you  what  I  am  going  to  be;  I 
am  goii^  to  be  a  doctor." 

Geoi^e. — "A  doctorl  I  wouldn't  be  any  doctor,  forever 
looldng  in  folk's  mouths,  cuttii^  open  boils,  smelling  measles, 
getting  up  all  times  of  night,  and  may-be  killing  people.  I  am 
going  to  be  a  merchant,  and  keep  ready-made  clothes." 

Leon. — "You  say  you  are?  I  hope  you  will  sew  the  buttons 
on  your  clothes  so  they  won't  drop  off  the  first  time  you  sneeze. 
It  seems  to  me  that  the  ready-made  clothes  sold  in  this  town 
were  taken  off  some  old  mummy,  for  they  are  rotten  and  ready 
to  come  to  pieces." 

James. — "I  woulon't  be  any  merchant— ^specially  dryrcoods 
merchant — bothering  with  smirking,  grinning  clerks,  and  tor- 
mented by  those  street-walking  women  who  spend  th^r  time 
in  lookii^  at  things  they  iiave  not  got  any  money  to  buy.  I 
shall  hang  out  my  shingle  as  a  lawyer." 

George. — "Lawyer,  indeed!  I  scorn  the  very  idea  of  being  a 
lawyer.  It  gives  me  a  swimming  in  the  head  to  see  one  of  these 
little  petty-fog^g  jack-l^s  strutting  along  the  street  as  if  the 
sun  and  stars  belonged  to  Mm.  I  always  feel  as  if  he  was  hoping 
that  I  would  steal  a  sheep  or  rob  a  bank  so  be  could  have  a 
chance  to  make  some  money  out  of  me." 

ErUer  Tom. 

Jeter. — "Come  in,  brother,  we  are  talkii^  about  what  we  are 
going  to  be." 

Tom. — "What  you  are  going  to  be?  I  think  I  will  be  a  car- 
penter and  build  houses." 

James. — "You  wouldn't  catch  me  b^ng  a  carpenter — 
mashing  my  thumb-nails,  falling  off  scaffolds,  quarreling  with 
plasterers  and  painters,  worried  by  ladies  about  hangii^  doors 
and  mending  gates,  and  being  abused  all  the  time  about  not 
finishing  houses  in  the  time  promised." 

Leon. — "It  seems  to  me  boys  that  this  is  a  very  important 
question  as  to  what  we  are  going  to  be." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DIALOGUES  111 

And  thua  the  diali^ue  proceeds.  Nat  smi^  the  dialt^ue 
around  to  the  truth  that  the  first  thii^  (or  a  boy  to  decide  to 
be  is  that  be  will  be  a  man,  a  useful  christian  man  and  that  his 
busDesB,  whatever  it  may  be,  should  be  managed  for  the  glory 
of  God. 

The  rehearsals  for  the  dialogues  were  signally  interesting. 
Dr.  Hatcher  would  have  the  boys  come  to  hia  study,  or  his 
house  and  he  would  seek  to  pummel  them  into  shape.  Some 
would  talk  too  fast  and  some  too  slow :  some  too  loud  and  far 
more,  too  low.  His  corrections  and  criticisms  were  made  with 
a  pleasant  badinage  and,  through  it  all,  the  boys  and  Dr.  Hatcher 
had  happy  times  together.  On  one  occason  there  was  a  dia- 
l(^e  on  "Speaking  in  Public"  in  which  a  boy, — right  out  on 
the  platform  before  the  audience — was  tai^t  how  to  make  a 
speech.  In  this  dialogue  several  boys  met  on  the  platform, 
and  tried  to  induce  one  of  th&i  number  to  deljver  an  address  to 
the  audience.  The  boy  refused  to  do  so,  but  they  belabored 
him  with  ai^;ument8  in  favor  of  bis  leamii:^  to  speak  in  public 
and  when  he  finally  consented  they  set  to  Work  at  once  to 
teach  him  the  following  speech: 

"You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age 
To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage. 

And  if  I  chance  to  fall  below 
Demosthenes  and  Cicero; 

View  me  not  with  a  critic's  eye, 
But  pass  my  imperfections  by." 

They  had  a  rough  time  making  him  say  it.  He  would  be^ 
with;  "You'd  scarce  suspect."  He  would  say:  "cricket's  eye" 
instead  of  "critic's  eye."  Thus  they  kept  at  it  until  finally, 
when  they  had  knocked  him  into  shape,  they  marched  him 
to  the  front  of  the  platform;  he  made  his  bow  and  sud  hia 
speech  without  a  hitch.  Of  course  such  experiences  with  the 
boys  gave  the  pastor  a  mighty  grip  on  them.  They  were 
often  invited  to  other  churches  to  EOi^  and  to  deliver  their 
dialogues. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


H2  LOVE  FOR  BOYS 

"It  waa  estimated  that  durii^  its  life  time  over  $10,000 
passed  through  the  treasury  of  thdr  society  and  on  one  oo- 
cacdon  the  church  finding  itself  in  a  strut  borrowed  quite  a  sum 
of  money  from  the  boys." 

If  the  meetings  were  a  foimtain  of  life  for  him  they  were  more 
than  that  for  the  boys.  For  twenty  ax  yean  that  Society 
was  rec^ving  into  its  embrace  hundreds  of  boys,  and  inspiring 
them  with  its  ennobling  influOicee.  But  his  love  for  boys 
burned  in  his  heart  not  merely  on  Sunday  afternoons  but  on 
every  day  and  a  large  portion  of  bia  life  was  spent  with  some 
boy  near  at  hand. 

Many  men  have  told  of  some  word  spoken  by  Iiim  that  set 
the  lights  gleaming  m  thdr  youi^  life  which  never  went  out. 
"Perhaps,  after  all,"  writes  Dr.  Prestridge  "his  main  ser- 
vice for  God  in  the  world  has  been  the  inspiration  and  help 
wtuch  he  has  ^ven  to  la:^  numbers  of  hoya  and  young  men." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XI. 

1876-1877 

AUUSINQ  PtTLPtT  EXPE:RIBI4CE3.      HUMOR  AMD  WIT. 

He  invites  bia  royal  friend,  Dr.  Thos.  H.  Pritchard  of  Raleigh 
N.  C,  to  be  his  guest  at  the  meetii^  in  Richmond  of  the  South- 
on  BaptJst  Convention  and  he  extends  his  invitation  in  Uie 
following,  playful  manner: 

"Richmond,  Va.,  April  11,  1876. 
-  'Mt  Deab  Thoicas: 

"I  write  for  the  compound  purpose  of  saying  that  you  are  a 
scholar  and  several  other  things. 

"I  wish  that  I  had  the  genius  of  Mr.  Jno.  G.  Williams,  the 
cheerfulness  of  Mrs.  Lewis,  the  dignity  of  Mrs.  Vass,  the  big 
house  and  yet  bigger  soul  of  Mrs.  Heck,  the  financial  sagacity 
of  Captain   Williamson  and   the  fine  clothes  and  universal 

rascality  of ,  and  then  I  would  take  dl  Raleigh  as  my 

guest  at  the  Convention.  But  having  nothing  except  my  wife 
and  children,  my  poverty  and  my  debts,  my  pride  and  my  sins, 
together  with  a  small  house  and  nothing  to  eat,  I  cannot  do  it. 
There  is,  however,  for  Raleigh's  noble  sake  one  thing  that  I 
would  be  glad  to  do — if  "Barkis  is  willin" — and  that  is  to 
share  the  reigning  destitution  of  my  obscure  hovel  with  you 
during  that  meeting.  It  is  a  strun  upon  your  friend^p 
which  I  am  ashamed  to  make  and  if  you  think  the  sacrifice  too 
great  I  will  excuse  you— with  a  sob.  To  exist  on  half  rations 
and  eat  out  of  a  broken  plate  at  such  a  time  will  be  a  trial 
to  you  and  if  you  cfm  do  better  then  I  say  (with  another  aob) 
by  all  means  do  it. 

"If  however  you  would  condescend  to  abate  your  metro* 

poUtan  majesty  to  the  extent  of  fon^;ing  on  the  borders  of 

starvation  and  be  willing  to  rest  your  refined  corpus  on  a 

113 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


114     A  'TOMBLE  FROM  THE  PULPIT 

bed  of  straw  then  you  can  Bay  to  your  admiring  friends  that 
during  the  convention  they  can  find  you  at  507  W.  Grace 
Street. 

"I  count  myself  a  small  fiah  in  these  Richmond  waters  and 
in  this  I  have  the  melancholy  satisfaction  of  believing  that 
I  am  not  alone  in  my  opinion.  I  wish  you  were  here,  but  why 
should  a  minnow  be  ambitious  to  fill  the  river  with  homy 
heads.    He  might  get  himself  swallowed. 

"Elaton  is  booming  in  Petersburg  still.  He  has  a  roaring 
meeting  and  is  about  to  break  his  net  in  his  heavy  drags. 

"N.  B.  Excuse  my  piscatorial  illustrations.  It  is  the  season 
for  shad. 

"I  have  just  come  in  from  a  fifty  four  miles  buggy  drive  to 
Charles  City  county.  I  went  to  lecture  at  a  country  church 
and  made  S50.25;  the  church  took  just  $50.25  of  the  money  and 
gave  me  the  rest. 

"Yours,  Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

He  had  an  amuang  e^>erience  with  Dr.  Pritcbard  in  his 
Ralegh  church. 

"It  occured  at  an  old  time  revival  meeting,  with  services 
held  in  the  basement  room,  the  pulpit  confflsted  of  a  platform 
without  rajl  and  steps  at  each  mde,  the  interest  was  intense 
and  the  great  room  was  crowded.  The  pastor,  well  rounded 
and  big  of  soul,  occupied  a  cane  bottomed  chur  on  the  platform 
back  of  where  I  stood  to  spefUi.  Having  his  chair  slightly 
tilted  and  de^rii^  to  get  a  httle  nearer  be  let  bis  chwr  down 
as  he  supposed  on  its  front  legs.  Unluckily  the  outside  leg  missed 
the  fioor.  Hearing  a  noise  behind  me  I  unconsciously  turned 
just  in  time  to  see  the  preacher  and  the  chair  roU  down  the 
steps  and  land  in  a  hopeless  jumble  on  the  floor.  My  first 
impulse,  a  very  innocent  one,  was  to  break  into  laughter.  By 
hard  stni^le  I  held  in,  which  was  more  than  was  done  by  the 
congregation  and  especially  by  the  preacher's  wife  for  there 
was  quite  a  ripple  swept  the  audience.  I  was  helped  in  restrain- 
ii^;  myself  by  the  fact  that  a  most  venerable  and  even  dis- 
tinguished old  gentleman  sat  with  his  elbow  on  the  bench  In 
front  of  me,  his  face  resting  in  his  hands  which  also  con- 
tained his  handkerchief.  His  solemn  eir  and  stately  posture 
rebuked  my  impulse  to  laugh.  I  felt  reverence  for  a  man  so 
far  above  Uie  temptation  which  was  so  strong  in  me.    All  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  MISPLACED  GESTUEE  U5 

time  however,  a  laugh  waa  strong  in  him  and  after  awhile, 
with  his  handkerchief  crammed  tight  in  his  mouth  and  hie 
dignity  in  total  wreck,  he  broke  into  one  of  the  most  discordant, 
uproarious,  uncontrollable  peals  of  laughter  that  one  would 
hear  in  a  life  time.  Things  had  to  have  th^r  way,  though  I 
laughed  not. 

A  real  laugh  may  be  impriaoned,  but  it  will  be  heard  from. 
I  closed  the  sermon.  Obtusely  enough,  I  called  on  the  pastor 
to  pray.  1  knelt  placing  my  face  in  my  hand  upon  the  seat 
of  the  pew.  The  agony  of  that  moment  will  not  be  forgotten. 
I  shut  my  Ups  and  pressed  them  into  my  hands  and  prayed  that 
I  might  die  or  hold  in.  With  the  Amen  of  the  pastor  I  sprang 
to  my  feet,  broke  all  records  in  the  brevity  of  my  benediction 
and  had  histerics  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  my  life.  I  laughed 
straight  through  two  hours  and  again  and  agun  during  the 
mgbt,  I  waked  up  with  new  convulsions." 

He  had.  aootlier  experienoe  while  preaching  that  sorely 
strvned  his  lifflbUitiee.  Dr.  A.  E.  Dickinson  was  seated  upon 
the  pulpit  at  ^e  time  but  sleep  overcame  the  Doctor  and  his 
head  fell  somewhat  backwards  and  he  fuled  before  dropping 
to  sleep,  to  dose  his  mouth,  or  perchance,  it  fell  opai  after  be 
had  fallen  asle^.  Dr.  Hatoher  dunng  his  preaching,  brought 
his  hand  down  upon  ^e  pulpit  and  there  it  lay  as  he  proceeded 
with  his  sermon, — at  least  he  thought  it  still  lay  on  the 
pulpit,  but  he  had  shifted  bis  poaticm — sidewise  and  very  near 
to  Dr.  Dickinson.  He  dedded  to  make  a  vigorous  gesture; 
he  lifted  his  hand  high  in  the  air  with  the  purpose  of  bringing 
it  down  upon  the  pulpit  in  a  big  oratorical  plui^e.  Down 
it  came  and  landed — not  upon  the  pulpit — but  alas  upon  the 
open  mouth  of  his  slumbering  nrighbor  on  the  platform.  He 
said  he  felt  distinctly  the  print  of  Dr.  Dickinson's  teeth. 

When  he  was  waUdng  around  the  church  that  night  after 
the  service  he  encountered  Dr.  Dickinson  who  sud  to  him  with 
i^arent  and  wdl  justified  ferodousness:  "Look  here  Hatcher; 
you  grand  rascal,  you  came  near  knocking  every  tooth  out 
of  my  mouth." 

The  fact  must  be  mentioned  that  a  shadow  appeared  at 
this  time  in  bis  pastoral  sky.    The  old  faction  in  the  church 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


116  FACTIONAL  TROUBLES 

which  he  had  hoped  bad  melted  out  of  ezisteDoe  b^an  to 
revive  and  Uft  up  its  head.    He  thus  writee: 

"I  fotmd  in  the  church  a  faction. — a  faction  ranall,  solid  and 
fractious  to  the  point  of  war.  It  was  on  the  fence  when  I  got 
there  and  lit  on  my  ade  and  sampled  me,  amply  ooddlinz  and 
feasting  and  flatteiing  me  duiing  the  time.  I  put  in  all  my 
arte  in  the  way  of  conciliation  and  had  enough  stupid  vanity 
to  think  that  I  was  bom  for  such  a  time  as  ttiat  but  before  I 
got  through  with  it  I  almost  wished  that  I  bad  not  been  bom 
at  all." 

He  tells  why  the  faction  turned  agunst  him: 

"They  had  certun  cheiiahed  crochets  which  they  demred 
my  aid  in  transmuting  into  church  laws  and  there  were  also 
certain  influential  members  in  the  church  who,  in  their  judgment, 
were  altogether  too  active  in  governmental  matters.  More 
than  all  I  was  gradually  developing  individual  characteristics, 
lines  of  policies  and  conmiitting  business  blunders  that  they 
felt  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance  that  they  should  supervise, 
correct  or  quietly  exterminate. 

"Soon  the  blaat  of  their  hostile  trumpet  gave  forth  ite  shriek. 
The  war  was  on  and  for  nearly  ten  years  my  feet  trod  the 
thorny  path." 

From  this  time  forth  he  is  to  show  his  capadty  for  dealing 
with  those  who  irritated,  or  opposed  him.  Out  in  the  world's  arena 
men  who  are  ill-treated  by  others  can  either  fight  or  leave  their 
opponent  to  his  fate,  but  a  pastor  with  hostile  members  can 
nether  fight  nor  ignore.  He  must  be  a  kindly  shepherd  to 
the  tmfriendly  and  to  the  obstructioniste. 

The  manuscript  of  a  Commencement  address  which  he 
delivered  in  June  of  this  year,  1876,  at  the  Albermaile  Female 
Institute  bears  the  marks  of  his  thorot^  preparation.  His 
subject  was  "The  School  ^l  at  home."  Only  a  few  parsgr^hs 
oi  the  speech  can  be  quoted  here: 

"I  knew  a  girl  that  went  away  to  school  for  a  session  and 
when  she  returned  she  made  all  manner  of  fun  of  her  freckled, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


WIT  AND  HCMOR  117 

red-hiured,  fanner  cousin  and  then  when  near  the  dark  border 
line  of  thirty  she  married  him. 

"2.  Let  her  avoid  the  affectation  of  learning.  Pedantry  in  a 
young  man  is  a  trial  and  if  I  ever  get  hanged  for  deliberate 
murder  it  will  be  for  killing  in  cold  blood  one  of  these  literary 
upstarts  who  wears  long  hair,  cultivates  a  pale  brow,  forgets 
to  tie  his  shoes,  puts  on  his  coat  wrong  side  out,  reads  German 
poetiy  in  bed  all  night,  talks  in  words  of  sesquipedalian  lon^- 
tude  and  is  in  short  a  bom  and  incurable  fool.  To  save  my 
soul  1  can  conceive  of  no  design  in  his  creation  except  to  be  the 
husband  of  a  pedantic  woman — the  only  pumshment  that  ia 
severe  enough  for  him." 

In  clocdng  he  urged  them  to  "throw  the  matchless  drapery 
of  piety  around  a  tr^ned  mind  and  a  busy  and  useful  life." 

At  the  meeting  of  the  Baptist  General  Aaaodation  in  June 
he  favored  abolishing  the  Sunday  School  Board  because  he 
thought  it  was  dead,  but  some  Uiought  differently  and  ao  he 
said  in  his  speech:  "I  consider  the  Board  dead,  but  to  prove  the 
fact  unmistakably  to  those  who  think  that  it  still  has  tife 
I  propose  that  we  keep  the  body  out  until  neict  June  and  then 
buiy  it."  He  seems  to  have  been  in  a  bright  mood  in  the  meet- 
ings for  we  read  that  in  his  speech  on  Ministerial  Education 
"Dr.  Batcher  went  on  t^  some  length  in  veins  of  humor  and 
hapi^  hite  which  cannot  be  caught  and  put  on  paper"  and  that 
same  month  we  read  that  at  the  Richmond  Collie  Commence- 
mcait  "Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher,  in  a  speech  full  of  wit  and  wisdom 
presented  the  Steel  medal." 

No  delineation  of  his  character  is  complete  without  a  reference 
to  his  humor  and  wit.  "Htunor"  says  Carlyle  "has  been  justly 
regarded  as  the  finest  perfection  of  poetic  genius."  This  pays 
high  tribute  to  humor  but  it  does  not  de&ne  it.  Lowell  seems 
to  speak  truly  when  he  says  "humor  is  the  perception  of  the 
incongruous."  In  other  words  the  humorist  is  the  man  who 
sees  things  in  their  odd  relations  and  shows  thran  to  others. 
Dr.  Hatcher  when  asked  regarding  his  own  humor  eaii: 

"If  there  is  anything  in  me  that  has  to  do  with  humor  it  can 
hardly  be  inherent  and  at  best  is  nothing  more  than  a  very 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


1:18  HUMOR  AND  FUN 

'  limited  capacity  for  discovering  the  humors  of  outside  ntuations. 
There  is  no  enginery  within  me  for  manufacturing  humoi  and 
if  it  is  at  all  proper  to  mention  humor  and  me  the  same  day,  it 
must  be  because  I  have  a  scant  and  unlocated  gift  for  discover- 
ing those  conjunctions  in  human  afFairs  which  titulate  the 
people  and  call  forth  their  laughter.  This  I  say  not  at  ail  aa  an 
expert  but  as  a  man  who  does  not  live  in  right  of  the  humorous 
side  of  mundane  affairs." 

"The  first  time  I  ever  saw  Dr.  Hatcher"  eaya  Rev.  Peyton 

Little  "I  was  attii^  by  him  at  the ■ Association 

near  the  front.  A  diacussioa  had  been  dragging  itself  alcn^  and 
when  the  vote  was  called  for  two  persona  voted  'Aye'  and  one 
big  fellow  thundered  out  gruffly,  'No.'  Dr.  Hatcher  turned  to 
me,  a  boy  sitting  by  him,  and  said  TVo  eyes  and  one  nose; 
and  the  nose  bigger  than  the  eyes.' 

He  eschewed  stock  jokes.  His  humor  was  bom  of  Uie 
occasion  and  leaped  from  his  lips  apparently  without  ^ort  on 
his  part.  "His  spirit  of  fun  and  humor"  aaya  Dr.  Chartes 
Hemdon"  flowed  with  the  abundance  and  r^reshmoit  <A  a 
clear  sparkling  spring"  and  Dr.  Hudnall  declared  tliat  it 
was  "spontaneous,  irrepressible  and  inexhaustible." 

He  had  a  horror  of  lugging  in  a  j<^e  simply  that  the  joke 
might  be  put  on  dress  parade  or  to  advertise  his  skill  as  a 
joke  maker.  His  humor  was  an  after-thought,  or  an  inmdent 
and  often  sprang  upon  tiie  scene  while  he  was  intent  on  some 
important  mission.    He  once  wrote: 

"I  utterly  abhor  fun  for  fun's  sake,  except  in  dealing  with 
children.  To  please  them,  to  give  them  jolly  surprises,  to  hear 
their  rippling  laughter,  I  have  always  been  ready  to  mng  a  song, 
act  a  charade,  play  a  prank  or  even  crack  a  joke,  but  I  fall  out 
with  myself  utterly  when  I  have  been  betrayed  into  exhibiting 
myself  in  a  burlesquing  or  ludicrous  way  for  grown  up  people. 
When  I  do  intentionally  make  people  laugh  it  is  always  with 
a  serious  purpose.  If  I  have  a  collection  to  take  and  my  crowd 
is  restive,  unresponsive  or  in  any  way  hard  to  handle  I  may 
purposely  bring  on  a  laugh.  Not,  however,  by  a  stock  story, 
or  any  old  expedient  laid  away  for  such  purposes,  but  by  some 
F^ayful  commentary  on  the  immediate  situation." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HUMOR  119 

He  WBB  at  a  country  church  at  a  busineas  meeting  one  day 
when  the  members  were  discussing  the  advisability  of  moving 
the  church  building  out  on  the  road. 

There  were  two  of  the  members  who  were  violently  opposed 
to  the  movement  and  with  solemn  wa^^ing  of  their  heads  they 
declared  "Brethren;  I  tell  you,  you  had  better  not  press  this 
matter  of  moving  this  building.  If  you  do  I  warn  you  it  will 
split  the  church".  Dr.  Hatcher  who  was  an  interested  visitor 
and  friend  of  the  church  and  who  strongly  favored  moving  the 
building  arose  and  said: 


"Brethren,  Brother  and    Brother  ■ 


Clare  that  the  presang  of  this  matter  will  split  the  church.  I 
think  you  need  not  be  alarmed  on  that  point.  The  fact  is  the 
devil  has  been  trying  to  split  this  church  for  many  yeare  and 
all  that  he  has  ever  been  able  to  do  has  been  to  knock  oEf  a  few 
splinters." 

I  gathered  the  idea  in  some  way  that  his  early  reading  of 
Dickens  stimulated,  or  discovered  for  him  to  Bome  extent, 
his  humorous  propensities.  At  any  rate  I  know  that  he  reveled 
in  that  author  in  lus  youthful  days.  His  humor  would  break 
out  in  the  social  circle,  in  his  public  addresses  and  some- 
timee  even  in  his  sermtHia, — ^but  always  as  incidental  to  the 
nuun  proceeding.  It  would  ripple  and  sparkle  and,  as  related 
to  the  drift  of  his  speech,  it  would  seem  inevitable.  Truly  has 
aome  (me  called  faomor  the  "saving  sense",  for  by  his  use  of  it  he 
saved  many  a  mtuation — ^in  public  meetings  and  in  the  social 
drcle — from  disaster  and  it  was  his  ability  to  see  the  bright  and 
humorous  ^de  <A  situations  that  carried  him  through  many  a 
strain.  The  great  writers  seem  fond  of  giving  high  praise  to 
"humor".  Ckileridge  dedares  that  men  of  hamor  are  always 
in  some  iegree  men  ci  genius  and  TennyBon  says: 

"I:  dare  not  tefi  how  high  I  rate  faumor,  which  is  generally  most 
fruitful  in  the  highest  and  most  solemn  human  spirits.  Dante 
is  full  of  it;  Cervantes  and  almost  all  the  greatest  men  have  been 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


120  WIT 

pregnant  with  this  glorious  power.   You  will  find  it  even  in  the 
gospel  of  Christ,." 

But  with  his  humor  was  linked  his  wit.  Wit  seems  to  be 
strictly  a  product  of  the  intellect  while  humor  "iaauea  not  more 
from  head  than  heart  and  issues  not  in  laughter  but  in  smiles." 
Dr.  Sam  Johnson  declares  that  "wit  is  a  discovery  of  occult 
resemblances  in  things  apparently  unlike."  Humor  perceives 
things  in  th^r  odd  relations.  Wit  brings  to  light  things  that 
are  alike — but  which  to  the  superficial  eye  seem  to  have  no 
likeness  whatever.  For  example  here  are  two  objects,  or  ideas, 
lying  vimble  to  the  casual  ^e  and  apparently  with  no  similarity 
between  tiiem,  when  lo,  a  speaker  with  keen  gaze  looks  under- 
neath them,  sees  further  down  than  the  other  observers  and  per- 
ceives some  common  and  striking  features  binding  them  tt^ether 
and  he  flashes  these  resemblances  upon  the  observer  and  he  is 
called  a  mt.  "Wit  is  the  flower  of  the  imagination"  and  truly 
it  requires  imagination  to  build  up  hidden  resemblances  and 
paint  them  so  that  others  can  easily  see  them.  "Wit  and  humor" 
says  Cervantes  "belong  to  genius  alone."  Dr.  Hatcher's  wit 
would  flash  and  sometimes  would  cut  like  a  knife. 

At  one  of  the  Convraitions  he  began  to  take  a  collection  for 
some  worthy  cause.    A  preacher  interrupted  him  by  calling  out: 

"Dr.  Hatcher;  I  also  have  a  very  needy  object  for  which  an 

offering  ought  to  be  made.    It  is  for  the  X .  I  suggest 

that  you  combine  that  with  yours  and  take  the  two  together." 

"I  hardly  think  we  had  better  attempt  that  now;  let  ua 
&u8h  one  at  a  time"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  who  then  proceeded 
with  his  call  for  subscriptions.  In  a  few  minutes  the  brother 
called  out  agun  "Dr.  Hatcher — I  think  we  had  better  combine 
these  two  objects.  If  you  will  do  this  I  will  give  five  dollars 
and  there  are  others  around  me  who  will  do  the  same.  Why 
not  combine  the  two?"  "I  think  we  had  better  continue  as  we 
have  started"  sud  Dr.  Hatcher  and  the  collection  made  another 
start  and  was  moving  well  when  the  irrepressible  brother  inter- 
rupted again. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


WIT  AND  HUMOR  121 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  I  think  you  are  making  a  mistake.  I  feel 
siire  you  will  get  more — if — " 

"Dr.  Hatcher"  called  out  a  man  "why  don't  you  knock  that 
fellow's  brains  out." 

"I  would  if  I  only  knew  where  to  hit  him"  quickly  replied 
Dr.  Hatcher. 

Some  one  has  thus  compared  wit  and  humor:  "Wit,  bright, 
rapid  and  blasting  as  the  lightning,  flashes,  strikes  and  van- 
iebes  in  an  instant;  humor  warm  and  all  embracing  as  the 
sunshine  bathes  its  objects  in  a  general  and  abiding 
Ught." 

It  was  in  the  social  circle  that  his  wit  and  humor  found  th^r 
moat  delightful  expression.  "I  was  present  at  a  dinner"  sud 
Dr.  P  .T.  Hale  "in  Richmond  when  the  host  became  so  con- 
vulsed with  laughter  at  one  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  stories  that  he 
was  compelled  to  leave  the  room,  choking  with  uncontrollable 
merriment".  Hia  humorous  stories,  like  his  pulpit  illustraUons, 
were  in  nearly  every  case  the  recital  of  incidents  in  hia  own 


He  was  mortally  afr^d  of  being  dubbed  a  fun  maker.  Even 
aa  A  boy  he  had  scant  pity  for  the  youth  who  in  company 
sought  to  be  funny.  He  once  referred  to  those  people  who 
"are  forever  trying  to  say  funny  things.  They  load  them- 
selves with  anecdotes.  They  study  mimicry.  They  watch  for 
the  ludicrous  ude  of  things." 

Dr.  P.  T.  Hale  says  that  at  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention 

in  Waco,  Texas  "Dr.  C announced  that  Dr.  William  E. 

Hatcher  of  Virginia  the  greatest  wit  in  the  Convention  would 
immediately  preach  in  a  neighboring  church.     Dr.  Hatcher 

declined  to  leave  the  building  until  Dr.  C had  changed 

the  wording  of  his  announcement  and  simply  spoke  of  him  as  a 
minister  of  Christ."  Dr.  Hale  adds:  "Hemight  have  surpassed 
Mark  Twun  as  an  author  of  humorous  works.  On  the  con- 
trary he  desired  to  be  known  simply  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel 
of  Christ." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


122  BEING  FUNNY 

"Nothing  is  more  loathesome"  says  Dr.  Hatcher  "than  the 
trade  of  the  fun  maker.  The  professional  jester  is  a  bore.  We 
get  drowsy  in  the  company  of  a  man  who  is  constantly  seeking 
to  make  us  laugh.  We  enjoy  Mark  Twain  in  a  paragraph  but 
we  despise  him  in  a  book.  A  single  proverb  of  Josh  Billings 
tickles  us  to  the  core  but  a  stiing  of  them  becomes  stale  and 
sickening  to  us.  He  who  in  trying  to  do  some  worthy  act 
says  a  bright  thing  and  surprises  us  into  a  laugh  has  our 
respect  and  gratitude;  but  if  he  opens  on  us  with  his  picked 
jests  and  pointless  puns  with  the  idea  that  he  can  convulse 
us  with  laughter  we  get  mad  on  the  spot.  We  refuse  to  be 
used  for  any  such  purpose. 

"1.  We  must  not  be  funny  at  the  e^^pense  of  sacred  things. 

"2.  We  must  not  be  funny  at  the  expense  of  decency. 

"3.  We  must  not  be  funny  at  the  expense  of  charity. 

"4.  We  must  not  permit  our  fun  to  run  to  excess." 

Amid  his  presang  duties  be  wrote  a  letter  to  Mr.  R.  B. 
Garrett  on  the  "Call  to  the  Ministry."  Mr.  Garrett — ^now  Dr. 
R.  B.  Garrett  the  honored  pastor  of  the  Court  Street  Church  in 
Portsmouth,  Va. — ^in  sending  the  letter  for  use  in  this  biography 
says: 

"This  letter  from  your  father  was  the  first  counsel  I  ever  had 
in  helping  me  to  decide  on  my  life's  work  and  it  had  much  to  do 
with  my  decision.  It  is  so  clear  and  stroi^  that  it  might  help 
others  who  are  struggling  as  I  was." 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Sept.  26th,  1876. 
"Mn.  R.  B.  Garrbt-t, 

"My  Dear  Bro: 

"It  is  not  easy  to  define  a  call  to  the  ministry,  but  I  say  g«ier- 
ally  that  it  is  a  persua^on  that  God  has  chosen  us  to  preach  the 
Gospel.  We  may  have  many  doubts  about  it — feel  too  feeble 
for  so  mighty  a  work  and  be  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  our  own 
inefficiency  and  yet  with  all  this  have  a  conviction  abiding 
and  deeping  that  we  must  preach.  In  some  cases  there  is  a 
feeling  of  duty  without  any  desire  to  preach;  in  others  there  is 
a  de«re  to  preach  without  a  satisfactory  sense  of  duty  and  in 
others  yet  there  is  the  double  sense  of  duty  and  desire.  Some 
men  are  driven  into  the  ministry  under  tbe  whip  of  conscience 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CALL  TO  THE  MINISTRY  123 

and  at  the  expense  of  cheriBhed  worldly  purposes;  others  are 
floated  into  it  on  the  current  of  their  love  and  zeal  for  Christ. 
The  former  preach  because  they  must;  the  latter  because  they 
would.  Where  this  desire  to  preach  exists,  it  must  spring  from 
a  proper  motive — that  is,  not  from  a  selfish  ambition  but  from 
a  wish  to  glorify  God.  If  a  young  man  desires  to  devote  himself 
to  the  service  of  the  Lord  and  feela  convinced  after  prayerful 
iiivestigati(m  that  he  can  be  more  useful  by  preaching  than  in 
any  other  way  then  I  would  say  that  he  is  called  to  preach. 

"I  beUeve  in  a  call  to  the  ministry — a  divine  call;  but  not 
that  it  is  sent  under  startling  or  miraculous  circumstances. 
It  is  the  call  of  the  Spirit  of  God  in  the  heart,  not  audible  not 
Buddeoly  given  but  gently  and  gradually  staqiping  the  impress 
of  duty  upon  the  soul. 

"This  call  to  duty  is  made  manifest  to  us  in  different  ways — 
to  some  by  such  consciousness  of  duty  as  cannot  be  questioned; 
to  others  by  a  restless  anxiety  which  weans  them  from  other 
things  and  slowly  turns  them  to  their  work;  to  others  by  outfflde 
influences  such  as  the  opinions  and  counsels  of  brethren.  It 
happens  often,  though  not  always,  that  others  will  discover  a 
young  man's  suitableness  for  the  ministry  before  he  sees  it 
himself. 

"There  are  certain  actual  qualities  which  a  man  who  is  to 
preach  should  have  and  witJiout  which  he  need  not  think 
himself  chosen  for  the  work.  He  must  have  a  capacity  and 
fondness  for  study — an  aptness  to  teach  and  some  talent  for 
public  speaking,  ^ough  he  will  not  always  be  the  best  judge 
about  these  gifts,  but  should  seek  counsel  from  others.  He 
must  not  feel  that  he  is  good,  for  none  of  us  are  good  but  he  must 
have  real  faith  in  Jesus,  warm  zeal  for  his  glory,  tender  love 
for  human  souls  and  a  readiness  to  consecrate  his  heart  and 
hands  to  the  work  of  God. 

"I  must  not  judge  for  you  in  this  matter.  It  is  a  question 
between  you  and  your  Savior  and  you  must  settle  it.  If  I  were 
to  judge  from  your  letter  I  would  say  that  God  ia  working  on 
your  heart  to  bring  you  into  the  ministry.  Is  not  this  your 
conviction  on  the  subject.  If  you  feel  so  then  I  counsel  you  to 
turn  aside  from  other  matters  and  prepare  for  your  life's  work. 
I  pray  that  God  will  guide  you  into  the  way  of  duty.  I  will  be 
happy  to  hear  from  you  af^ain. 

"Your  brother  in  Jesus 

"W.  E.  Hatcher." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


124  SERMONS  PREACHED 

On  Nov.  26tb  of  this  year  he  preached  on  'The  FeUowship 
of  Christ's  Sufferings.  Fhilippians  3:10.  I.  The  Fellowship 
of  Christ.  II.  The  Fellowship  of  Christ's  Sufferings.  III.  The 
Knowledge  of  this  Fellowship."  On  Dec.  30th  he  preached  cm 
"Christ's  Wibiessea.  Acts  1:8.  I.  The  Issue, — the  Reaur- 
rection  of  Christ.  II.  "Die  Court.  III.  The  Character  of  the 
Witnesses".  His  days  were  crowded  with  toil  and  often  with 
travel  into  different  parte  of  the  state. 


D.qit.zeaOv"GoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XII. 
1877-1878. 

INTEREST  IN  YOUNO  PREACHERS.      PASTORAL  VISITINQ.      CAREFUL- 
NEBS  IN  PREPARING  PUBLIC  ADDRESSES.       DAILY  BCHEDCLE. 

Bichmond  College  occupied  a  large  place  in  bis  miniBtiy. 
A  new  student  would  not  be  on  the  Campus  long  without 
leaming  that  down  at  the  Grace  Street  Church  was  a  pastor 
who  was  not  <m]y  a  great  friend  to  the  College  boys  but  also 
a  preacher  whom  the  students  dehghted  to  hear.  The  minis- 
terial students  eqwdally  turned  to  him  for  sympathy  and 
counsd  and  flocked  to  his  preaching. 

"When  I  first  went  to  Richmond  College  a  green  country  boy" 
says  Dr.  J,  J.  Taylor  "he  was  very  kind  to  me.  Through  all 
the  succeeding  years.  ...  in  many  ways  I  have  made 
him  my  ideal." 

"The  second  year  I  was  in  Richmond  Colle^  writes  Rev.  J. 
J.  Wicker  "a  man  from  down  South  was  accused  of  cheating 
on  exanunation.  It  was  a  dark  time  for  him  and  there  was  an 
agitated  inquiry  as  to  his  guilt  or  innocence.  He  was  finally 
expelled.  Now  this  young  man  happened  to  be  a  ministerial 
student  and  the  cloud  over  his  hfe  seemed  to  shut  out  every 
ray  of  hope.  A  number  of  yoimg  men  were  gathered  together 
discussing  the  case  and  wtmdering  if  anything  could  be  done 
for  him. 

"They  finally  reached  a  concluraon  with  out  any  leader  in  the 
discusaon.  It  seemed  to  break  upon  them  all  at  once  that 
there  was  one  man  in  Richmond  who  would  help  a  man  w1k> 
was  wounded  and  m  distress  and  they  smd  with  one  accord 
'There  is  one  man  who  we  know  will  help  him  and  that  man  is 
Dr.  WiOiam  E.  Hatcher'  and  he  did.  The  young  man  has  arisen 
agfun  and  ia  one  of  the  most  devoted  pastors  in  a  far  Southern 
State." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


126     DEALING  WITH  YOUNG  MEN 

He  waa  preaideiit  of  the  Education  Board  at  the  Coll^^, — 
a  Board  which  fuded  young  preachers  in  thur  education  at 
the  Collie  and  this  fact  brought  him  into  helpful  relations 
with  nearly  tSl  the  miiusterial  students.  In  writing  of  Dr. 
Hatcher's  kindness  to  him  at  the  be^nning  of  his  College 
career  Dr.  M.  L.  Wood  sa]^:  "In  my  examination  before  the 
Education  Board  of  which  you  know  he  waa  preadent  for  ao 
long,  he  frightened  me  greatly  by  asking  me  to  parse  the 
sentence  'The  horse  ran  down  the  hill  and  broke  the  chaise.' " 
I  heard  him  tell  of  an  amu^ng  mcident  that  occured  one  day 
at  a  meeting  of  the  Board.  One  of  the  students  was  being  ques* 
tioned  aa  to  his  miniaterial  call  when  one  of  the  members  of  the 
Board — a  member  of  the  Faculty — aaid  in  somewhat  solenm, 
earnest  tones:  "My  young  brother  do  you  feel  that  you  can  say 
with  the  Apostie  Paul:  'I'll  be  damned  if  I  do  not  preach  the 
gospel?' "  It  is  hardly  surprising  that  the  young  brother's 
answer  was  seriously  interrupted  by  the  explonon  of  lai^ter 
that  broke  upon  the  head  of  the  innocent  and  starUed  profes- 
sor. It  is  hoped  that  the  candidate  convinced  the  Board  of 
his  sense  of  obligation  to  preach  even  though  he  was  not  able 
to  express  his  purpose  in  the  language  si^geeted  by  the  pro- 
fessor. 

Dr.  Hatcher's  helpfulness  to  young  men  did  not  atop  witii 
Bichmond  College  or  Richmond  Qty. 

Rev.  W.  H.  Baylor  writes: 

"When  I  was  a  boy  of  eleven  years  Dr.  Wm  E..  Hatcher 
of  Richmond,  Va.,  came  into  our  home  and  singled  me  out  as 
his  favorite.  Putting  his  hand  on  my  head,  he  said,  'This  boy 
is  going  to  be  a  preacher.'  During  this  and  several  subsemient 
vifflts  I  waa  constantly  with  him,  and  he  would  talk  to  me  wMUt 
preaching.    Through  him,  God  called  me  into  the  miniBtry." 

It  waa  my  privilege  recentiy  to  preach  for  Mr.  Baylor  and  I 
can  never  forget  the  burning  intensty  with  which  he  told  hia 
congregation  of  what  Dr.  Hatcher  had  been  to  him.  His  heart 
poured  itself  out  in  a  fulness  of  affectionate  appreciation  that 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


YOUNG  PEEACHBBS  127 

Btartlad  me  and  that  gave  me  a  new  realUation  of  how  deeply 
and  profoundly  his  influence  could  be  wrought  into  young  men. 

"No  man  of  my  acquaintAnce"  awd  Rev.  R.  P.  Rixey  "has 
touched  more  deeply  my  life  in  all  things  spiritual  than  Dr. 
William  E.  Hatcher."  His  passon  for  helpfulness  seemed  a 
second  nature  with  him.  In  the  case  of  young  preachers  the 
recollection  of  his  own  stumblings  and  struggles  at  the  gateway 
of  bis  ministry  seemed  to  kindle  his  heart  into  sympatiiy  for 
tiiem.  "One  of  tiie  finest  things  about  him"  says  Dr.  Geo.  B. 
Taylor  "was  his  love  and  fellowship  for  his  youngs  brethren  in 
the  ministry."  His  helpfulness  did  not  wear  the  garb  of  com- 
pliments nor  mere  aimiable  and  friendly  words.  Hia  eye  would 
strike  for  the  ceoiter  of  the  young  man's  needs  and  possibilities. 
Sometimes  it  was  a  fatherly  criticism  that  was  needed, — or  even 
reproof;  sometimes  a  tender  inquiry  about  his  history  or  con- 
(£tion,  ofttimes  a  word  of  light  and  cheer  and  inspiration.  For 
the  young  fellow  who  clung  to  his  v^n  conceit  or  the  youth  who 
insisted  on  being  a  fool  or  a  crank  he  stood  dumb-founded  and 
would  sometimes  turn  away  in  despfur. 

There  were  few  Summers  in  his  life  from  this  time  forth  that 
he  did  not  find  himself  in  the  North  speaking  at  some  denomi- 
nation^ gathering,  or  preaching  in  one  of  the  churches.  In 
May  he  spoke  in  Boston  and  also  at  the  Baptist  Anniver- 
saries in  Providence. 

He  welcomed  his  Summer  vacation  because  it  meant  for  him 
the  chance  to  take  to  the  woods, — ^not  for  frolic  with  gun  or  fish- 
ing rod,  nor  for  cultivating  the  acquuntance  of  hammocks  or 
the  green  grass,  but  for  tJie  hardest  and  the  most  fascinating  toil 
to  him — ^that  of  holding  protracted  meetii^  with  the  country 
churches,  and  attending  country  district  Associations. 

"We  bless  the  Lord"  he  sud  "for  ten  thousand  things  and 
one  of  the  most  delightful  of  them  is  that  we  do  not  have  to 
rest  during  August.  The  seaside  is  lovely,  the  Springs  charming, 
the  mountains  sublime,  the  country  cousins  famous  for  domes- 
tic comfort«  and  sweet  welcome,  but  better  far  than  this  is 
the  fellowship  and  rapture  of  the  Aesodation  and  the  saving 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


128  PASTORAL  VISITING 

glorious  revival.  We  were  put  in  cold  storage  in  former  years 
with  ft  view  to  the  preservation  of  our  pastoral  parts  but  when 
we  were  taken  out  and  shipped  home  in  September  the  autum- 
nal heats  played  wreck  with  our  newly  acquired  tender- 


Some  men  love  the  country  for  the  beauties  of  nature,  but 
the  most  attractive  eight  the  country  could  afford  him  was  its 
people — BO  ample,  so  open  hearted,  ao  responsive  and  so  true. 
Every  Fall  after  tus  return  to  Bicbmond  from  his  summer 
travels  be  would  be^  Ida  "grand  round"  of  vinting  when  he 
would  seek  to  call  upon  every  family  of  his  church.  It  meant 
a  continuoufl  tramp,  day  by  day,  rii^h^  door  bells  and  en- 
countering experiences  that  were  sometjmee  as  rough  as  tbey 
were  varied.  But  the  charm  of  it  was  that  he  sprang  to  it 
with  a  happy  bound  and  a  joyful  relish.  Concerning  the 
pastoral  visit  be  writes: 

"Here  are  two  ministers,  both  pastors.  One  of  them  has  a 
crotchet  against  the  pastoral  visit.  He  declares  that  it  is  a 
waste  of  existence  to  go  poddering  after  vapid  old  women, 
cajoling  heartless  misers,  or  effervescing  over  unsoaped  children. 
He  contends  that  it  interferes  with  his  sermon,  retards  his 
intellectual  pursuits  and  takes  the  edge  off  his  genius.  It 
irritates  him  to  go,  depresses  him  to  get  there,  and  worries 
him  to  know  what  to  say  when  he  arrives. 

"The  other  man  is  not  so.  To  begin  with  he  loves  people — 
loves  them  by  nature  and  by  grace — loves  his  own  especially — 
loves  to  see  them — enjoys  talking  to  them — grieves  to  tear 
away  from  them. 

"Now  start  these  two  men  forth  to  pay  the  visit.  The  first 
goes  like  the  oft  mentioned  "scourged  slave."  He  starts  in  a 
fret,  dreads  the  meeting,  grows  dull  and  awkward  as  he  enters, 
drags  in  the  talk,  embarrasses  the  lady,  and  leaves  as  if  escaping 
from  a  burning  ship.  Write  it  at  the  top  of  your  journal  that 
a  visit  like  that  will  unsettle  a  pastor  if  repeated  twice.    Some 

iiastors  may  be  dislodged  for  not  visiting,  but  the  man  will 
ose  his  place  sooner  or  later  on  account  of  his  visits.  A  grudging 
visit  wilt  electioneer  against  a  pastor. 

"But  take  the  otiier  man — let  him  go  out  on  his  vidt. 
They  will  know  his  knock  or  his  rii^.     Mother  and  children 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PASTORAL  VISITING  129 

will  come  tumblii^  and  dashing  out  to  meet  him  with  a  wel- 
coming smile.  At  ^ght  of  him  happy  talk  will  begin  to  run. 
First  pleasantries  will  flutter  like  lighting  birds  and  then  serious 
thii^B — the  church,  the  home  troubles,  the  absent  children, 
and  the  kingdom  of  God  will  all  get  a  mention — the  Bible  will 
be  opened— a  tender  prayer,  and  then  the  good  man  is  gone. 
No,  not  exactly  gone:  he  is  followed  out  into  the  hall,  all  talking 
as  they  go,  encounters  a  loving  hold-up  at  the  door  and  a  fire 
of  kindly  words  rattle  after  him  as  he  goes  rapidly  away.  Ah, 
no;  he  never  goes  away.  His  light  shines  there  day  and  night. 
The  aroma  of  his  visit  lingers  in  the  house.  When  the  good 
man  comes  home  at  night,  all  of  it  is  gone  over  again,  and  each 
member  of  the  household  grips  more  tightly  into  the  life  of  the 
pastor.  That  is  a  visit  which  cements  the  union  and  makes 
it  easy  and  delightful  for  the  pastor  to  stay  as  long  as  he  will. 
"Ye,  proud  and  high-stalkmg  men,  who  scoff  at  the  visit, 
take  a  word  of  counsel.  It  may  do  you  good.  If  you  are  averse 
to  personal  contact  with  your  people,  if  you  shrink  from  com- 
panionship with  them,  if  you  hate  the  visit,  then  get  ready  to 
move.  You  cannot  stay  unless  you  visit,  and  if  you  hate  the 
visit  which  you  make,  keep  your  grip-sack  packed  and  be  ready 
upon  notice  to  move  on.    The  end  is  near  at  hand." 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  say  which  held  a  higher 
place  with  him. — the  pastoral  visit  or  the  sermon.  He  said 
on  one  occaaon:  "The  sermon  and  the  visit  are  twins,  inhei^ 
ently  congenial  and  complementary  one  of  the  other." 

At  the  end  of  the  year  on  Dec.  30th  he  preached  on  the 
"The  unchanging  God"  (Mai.  3;  6,).  He  b^an  by  saying,  "We 
stand  to-d&y  on  the  crumbling  edge  of  the  old  year";  and 
he  spoke  of  God  as  changeless  in  b^ng,  character  and 
piurpose. 

One  of  his  marked  truts  waa  his  respect  for  his  public  en- 
gagements. He  was  invited  to  speak  at  the  ordination  of  a 
young  minister,  Rev.  C.  H.  Nash  at  the  High  Hills  Church  in 
Sussex  county.  He  accepted  the  invitation;  but  did  he  wait 
until  he  took  the  train  for  the  ordination  and  then  hastily 
fling  together  certam  vagrant  thoughts?  He  might  have  done 
so.  It  was  a  ample  country  congregation  at  the  little  High 
Hills  chiuvh  and,  wil^  hia  crowded  life,  why  should  he  not 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


130  ADDRESS  AT  ORDINATION 

have  qiuckly  improvised  a  suitable  speech  for  mich  an  occa- 
^oa? 

But  No.  That  address  was  a  public  trust.  A  young  man  was 
to  be  formally  set  apart  to  the  work  of  the  Gospel  ministry  and 
he  had  been  asked  to  deliver  the  "Charge"  to  the  young 
minister  as  he  stood  on  the  threshold  of  his  ministry.  It  was 
certtunly  no  trifling  event  in  the  life  of  Mr.  Nash.  Dr.  Hatcher 
decided  that  he  would  seek  to  make  it  a  memorable  event  not 
only  in  the  career  of  that  young  man  but  also  of  that  community. 

Nearly  all  his  papers  were  destroyed  by  fire  but  among  those 
that  were  in  another  building  at  the  time  of  the  fire  two  manu- 
scripts of  the  above  address  have  been  found,  written  in  very 
neat  and  careful  manner  and  if  these  two  manuscripts  bearing 
such  marks  of  completeness  have  been  found  it  suggests  that 
there  were  probably  other  papers  representing  work  which  was 
prehihinary  to  the  above.  It  shows  that  he  had  not  yet  flung 
afflde  his  practice  of  rewriting  and  of  hard  labor  upon  his  lite- 
rary productions.  Such  drill  of  course  consumed  much  of  his 
tJme  in  his  busy  life  but  it  paid  him  amply  in  the  future  and 
enabled  him  during  the  later  years  to  speak  off-hand  xad  write 
with  a  fluency  and  literary  charm  that  would  have  been  impos- 
Edble  without  this  early  grind  and  toil. 

I  quote  a  few  paragraphs  from  the  address: 

"My  Beloved  Brother  :  I  am  commis^oned  by  my  brethren 
of  the  Presbytery  to  assure  you  of  their  confidence  and  affection 
and  to  charge  you  before  God  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to 
wear  worthily  the  ministerial  office  with  which  you  are,  to-day, 
formally  invested 

"It  is  fearful  to  be  a  young  preacher — to  be  good  looHi^ — 
to  have  sparkling  fancy  and  ready  speech — to  be  popular  and 
to  be  coimted  a  success.  There  are  weak  men  and  silly  women 
to  spoil  and  wreck  young  preachers. 

"It  has  never  been  my  misfortime  to  be  popular  but  let  me 
say  I  have  had  my  enthusiastic  admirers — that  blew  my 
trumpet  on  the  outer  wall— that  said  I  could  beat  them  all  and 
hui^  entranced  on  all  that  fell  from  my  lips — until  something 
fell  that  they  did  not  like  and  then  they  fell — fell  away,  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


AHOESEANDBUGGY  131 

some  of  them  fell  on  me  and  if  God  had  been  as  foi^etful  of  me 
as  they  were  they  would  have  made  me  fall  and  fall  to  rise  no 

"When  a  preacher  be^ns  to  think  more  highly  of  himself  than 
he  ought  he  begins  to  be  a  fool  and  if  you  will  give  him  time  he 
will  prove  it. 

"Thus  far  I  have  never  killed  a  man  and  humbly  pray  that 
such  a  bloody  necessity  may  never  fall  on  me  but  if  I  had  to  do 
it  and  oould  pick  my  man  I  think  I  should  imbrue  my  hands  in 
the  blood  of  one  of  these  ministerial  puffs — the  swelling  coxcomb 
that  struts  the  pulpit  as  a  stage  and  preaches  to  show  himself. 

"If  the  greatest  of  alt  preachers  counted  himself  less  than 
the  least  of  all  the  scunts  and  mourned  all  his  days  over  his  sins 
and  imperfections;  if  indeed  Jesus  Christ  himself  was  'meek 
and  lowly  in  heart'  what  opinion  does  it  become  us  to  have  of 
ourselves." 

"If  a  man  cant  keep  out  of  debt  let  him  keep  out  of  the 
pulpit." 

"If  you  ever  make  a  man  you  must  court  solitude." 

"They  only  move  the  world  whom  the  world  cannot  move." 

One  day  a  horse  and  buggy  arrived  at  his  front  gate.  The 
buggy  was  new  and  the  horse  was  a  stranger  in  those  parts  and 
they  both  proved  to  be  a  gift  from  the  Grace  Street  church 
to  their  pastor.  The  horse  was  small  and  black  and  was  given 
the  name  of  "Grace",  Dr.  Hatcher  saying  that  as  the  street 
on  which  he  lived  was  Grace  and  his  Church  was  the  Grace 
Street  Church  and  that  now  as  his  horse  bore  the  same  name 
he  hoped  that  she  would  indeed  prove  a  means  of  Grace  to  him. 
She  did  her  part  nobly  as  the  pastor's  assistant  though  she 
varied  the  exercises  one  day.  In  her  haste  to  reach  the  depot 
with  Dr.  Hatcher  and  Dr.  John  William  Jones  (of  large  build) 
in  the  buggy  with  myself  jammed  in  between  she  did  not  cal- 
culate well  the  incline  of  the  street;  she  went  dashing  around 
another  vehicle  that  was  approaching  us;  our  bug^  gave  a 
circling  swing  and  over  and  down  the  incline  towards  the 
gutter  went  the  buggy  with  Dr.  Jones  on  the  upper  dde  of  the 
human  pile  and  Grace  lying  meekly  on  her  side. 

Saturday  afternoon  was  Ms  time  for  taking  a  "spin  into  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


132.  IN  HIS  STUDY 

country"— behind  Grace — and  nearly  always  he  would  pick 
up  one  of  the  BJchmoud  pastors  for  his  traveling  companion 
and  with  few  exceptions  this  companion  would  be  his  beloved 
McDonald  while  between  th^r  knees  sat  a  happy  little  "scrap 
of  a  chap" — ^the  son  of  the  driver  who  would  listen  with  e^er 
enjoyment  to  thar  familiar  chats. 

He  would  reach  his  study  each  morning  about  nine  or  nine- 
thirty  o'clock  and  to  him  that  room  was  a  haven  of  delight 
and  yet  no  busy  pastor  ever  threw  open  his  study  door  with  a 
gladder  welcome  for  the  visitor  than  did  he.  He  had  no  tricks 
for  quickly  disposing  of  the  long  winded  brother.  Notiiiug 
was  so  interesting  to  him  as  people  and  be  gave  them  a  royal 
hearing. 

"I  tried  several  times"  said  his  wife  "to  get  him  to  have  cer^ 
tdn  hours  to  see  visitors,  but  he  would  always  say;  'No;  my 
door  must  always  stand  open  lest  someone  be  turned  away 
whom  I  ought  to  help'  He  said  his  best  rest  came  by  going  out 
into  the  country  every  Friday  or  Saturday," 

His  open  door  policy  sometimes  brought  him  hopeless 
interruption  but  even  in  such  cases  he  would  often  extract 
some  gleams  of  humor.  One  morning  just  as  he  was  gettii^ 
well  settled  in  bis  work  in  came  a  visitor. 

"He  was  a  strapping  buriy  fellow  in  the  bloom  of  youth  and 
would  have  weighed  well  nigh  200  pounds.  He  informed  us 
that  he  was  a  blacksmith  by  trade  but  had  determined  to  bid 
adieu  to  the  anvil  and  try  his  fortune  as  a  book  agent.  He 
pleasantly  hinted  at  the  greatness  of  our  reputation  and  in- 
fluence and  requested  us  to  'prescribe'  for  the  'Light  of  all 
Nations'.  We  told  him  modestly  that  the  influence  of  our 
name  was  a  myth  and  that  financially  we  were  trembling  over 
the  abyss.  We  asked  him  to  excuse  us  but  his  brow  already 
beaded  with  perspiration  grew  grim  with  dissatisfaction. 

"He  told  us  that  he  never  expected  to  meet  such  a  repulse 
at  our  hands.  He  said  that  our  name  would  bring  many  pur- 
chasers to  bis  side  and  that  if  we  refused  to  give  it  the  conse- 
quences would  be  bad  for  him.  Once  more  we  asked  him  to 
excuse  us  but  he  said  the  book  was  cheap, — less  than  four 
dollars  if  we  would  take  the  book  with  the  paper  board  binding 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DAILY  SCHEDULE  133 

and  he  really  thought  that  we  might  spend  that  much  just  to 
encourage  a  young  man.  We  told  him  that  we  were  fond  of 
young  mm  and  delighted  to  see  them  encouraged.  We  begged 
him  to  be  encourf^ed  in  an  independent  way  and  not  to  look 
entirely  to  us  for  it.  We  suggested  that  we  could  not  quite 
afford  to  spend  four  dollars  for  a  book  that  we  did  not  need 
even  though  in  doing  so  we  might  add  to  his  encouragement. 
He  looked  at  us  in  a  confused  and  bitter  way  and  said  'Then 
you  mean  to  say  that  you  will  not  prescribe'.  We  begged  him' 
to  feet  friendly  to  us,  not  to  cherish  revenge  and  not  to  fall  out 
with  the  world.  He  said  it  was  bard  to  bear  and  that  he  knew 
not  where  to  go  next  but  that  he  would  strive  to  meet  his 
troubles  as  became  a  man  and  so  we  parted,  or  at  least  we 
thought  we  had  parted;  but  when  he  got  to  the  door  he  paused 
and  sorrowfully  asked:  'Is  your  mind  made  up  not  to  prescribe'. 
We  told  him  that  our  intellectual  machinery  was  a  little  dis- 
jointed but  that  as  far  as  we  understood  the  case  we  thought 
it  was  a  foregone  concluaon  that  we  would  not  prescribe  and 
then  the  stairway  f^rly  trembled  beneath  his  sluggish  tread 
as  he  went  out." 

At  11:30  he  would  close  his  study,  go  across  the  street  to  his 
bug^  which  Uncle  Davy,  the  Sexton,  would  always  have  ready 
for  him  tied  at  the  accustomed  tree  and  "Grace"  would 
go  trotting  off  with  him  on  his  visiting  rounds  which  would 
usually  last  until  three  o'clock  when  he  would  arrive  at  home 
in  time  for  his  ten  minutes  nap  on  the  couch  in  the  sitting 
room,  where  his  sleeping  would  often,  though  not  always, 
advertise  its  prepress  by  vigorous  snoring.  That  nap  was  a 
miracle  worker.  He  could  fall  asleep  almost  immediately 
upon  closing  his  eyes  and  at  the  end  he  would  arise  with  mind 
and  body  rejuvenated.  "BlesMi^  light  on  him  that  invented 
sleep"  aays  Cervantes  "It  covers  a  roan  all  over, — thoughts 
and  all  like  a  cloak."  Happily  has  sleep  been  styled  "nature's 
soft  nurse."  Dr.  John  A.  Broadus  used  to  tell  the  story  of  Dr. 
Smith  and  another  professor  at  the  Univer^ty  of  Vii^nia 
being  seated  one  day  in  a  room  together  engaged  in  some  literary 
empl(^ment  when  one  of  them  exclaimed  with  a  «gh  as  he 
found  himself  nodding  over  his  work:  "Oh  myl  I  am  such  a 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


134  DAILY  SCHEDULE 

sleepy  head  and  I  have  so  much  important  labor  yet  ahead  of 
me." 

The  other  professor  clapped  lus  hands  quite  vigorously., 
"What  is  that  for?"  asked  the  other.  "Why  I  am  so  glad  that 
you  do  fall  to  sleep  for  now  I  know  that  you  will  never  kill 
yourself  working."  Dr.  Hatcher  would  often  come  into  the 
house  greatly  fatigued  and  it  was  undoubtedly  his  ability  to 
drop  into  a  quick  slumber  that  enabled  him  to  keep  his  vitaUty 
at  high  level  and  that  postponed  the  date  of  his  death.  Old 
Dr.  Sam  Johnson  said  "I  never  take  a  nap  after  dinner  except 
when  I  have  had  a  bad  night  and  then  the  Jiap  takes  me." 
Dr.  Hatcher's  naps  always  seemed  to  "take  him"  though  they 
very  rarely  waited  ufttil  after  dinner  before  poundng  upon  him. 

Sometimes  he  would  return  home  by  two  o'clock  and  call 
for  his  wife  who  would  go  to  his  desk  and  for  an  hour  act  as  his 
amanuensis  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room  dictating  some 
address  or  article  for  a  newspaper  or  letters  to  people.  In  the 
meantime  the  children  were  piling  in  from  school  and  the 
dinner  bell  would  rally  the  family  aroimd  the  table  in  the 
dining  room  at  3:15  o'clock. 

In  the  afternoon  he  would  take  his  recreation,  which  generally 
meant  a  game  of  croquet  at  the  College. 

After  supper, — what  would  it  be? — a  prayer  meeting — or 
a  church  meeting — or  a  deacons  meeting, —  or  a  Society  meet- 
ing— or  some  social  gathering — or  posably  a  lecture  on  Church 
Hill — or  a  sermon  at  Venable  Street — or  an  address  at  Pine 
Street — or  an  ordination  sermon  at  the  Second  Church — Who 
can  recount  the  uncountable  engagements  that  block  the  way 
of  a  city  pastor  from  his  supper  to  his  slumbers.  A  "City 
Pastor's  Evenings" — what  a  story  they  would  tell.  As  a  rule 
he  would  return  home  at  night  about  9:30  or  10  P.  M.  for  a 
two  hour's  toil  at  his  desk  by  the  window  in  the  front  second 
story  room.  Here  he  would  write  while  the  family  were 
gathered  around  the  fire  and  offtimes  the  group  was  enlarged 
by  the  presence  of  viHtors  who  had  "dropped  in"  after  the 
meeting  or  who  were  spending  the  evening.    It  was  amid  such 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DAILY  SCHEDULE  135 

clatter  that  he  would  do  ias  writing;  white  they  talked  his  pen 
would  be  busily  picking  it«  way  across  the  page  and  every  now 
and  then  be  would  interject  a  question,  or  some  side  remark 
into  the  conversation,  thus  showing  that  if  his  eye  was  fol- 
lowing his  pen,  his  ear  was  following  the  talk.  His  mind  was 
alert  to  what  was  going  on  around  him.  "But  Doctor"  one 
of  the  viators  would  say  "how  can  you  write  in  the  midst  of 
our  noise?"  "I  like  it"  he  would  say  "talk  on;  it  helps  me  to 
think.  It  is  when  you  stop  talking  that  I  stop."  Such  self 
control  was  one  of  his  hard  won  victories.  Often  in  company 
with  boys  or  grown  people,  he  would  call  out  to  them:  "Talk", 
or  "Tell  me  something"  and  he  would  listen  keenly  and  with 
appredatJon. 

His  late  working  hours  at  night  made  him  also  a  late  riser, — 
though  he  generally  reached  his  study  between  9  and  9 :30  every 
morning.  One  morning  a  carpenter,  one  of  his  members,  came 
to  fix  one  of  the  closets  in  the  bed  room.  He  arrived  at  about 
eight  o'clock  and  was  informed  that  it  was  too  early  for  him  to 
do  the  work,  that  Dr.  Hatcher  was  not  awake.  "What;  not 
awake  yet?"  he  said  with  an  almost  horrified  expression. 
"No"  siud  Mrs.  Hatcher.  "You  must  remember  you  work  in 
the  day  and  he  works  much  in  the  night,"  and  she  might  have 
added  "as  well  as  in  the  day." 

Until  he  was  an  old  man  be  usually  averaged  eight  hours 
sleep.  It  ought  to  be  mentioned  that  his  first  act  each  morning 
was  to  call  for  the  "Richmond  Di9patch"which  he  would  read 
in  bed.  A  few  years  later  it  was  bis  custom,  after  reading  his 
morning  paper,  to  give  the  signal  to  his  two  youi^est  daughters 
Elizabeth  and  Edith  and  they  would  come  bouncing  in  for  a 
fruit  feast  in  bed.  Many  were  the  mornings  that  I  would  run 
down  to  Phillips'  store  to  buy  a  b(^  of  fruit  for  the  three 
feasters.  What  chattering  and  discussing  they  would  have  and 
what  stories  they  would  tell  as  they  made  the  bananas  and 
peaches  disappear  until  the  first  bell  would  bring  thdr  happy 
clatter  to  an  end  and  summon  them  out  of  bed  and  off  to  their 
dresidi:^  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  rattle  in  the  dining  room 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


136  DAILY  SCHEDULE 

would  announce  the  arrivAl  of  tile  family  for  breakfast.  Of  course 
his  schedule  for  the  day  often  suffered  shipwreck  under  the 
storms  of  duties  that  raged  uxiund  him.  Trips  out  of  the  city, 
funerals  and  other  engagements  would  frequently  play  havoc 
with  his  daily  programme  and  sometimes  the  calls  for  bis  services 
would  be  so  numerous  that  he  would  be  bewildered  in  choo»ng 
between  them. 

"I  was  often  told  in  my  callow  days"  said  he  "that  there 
could  be  no  possible  conQict  of  duties  and  I  believed  it  and  am 
trying  to  believe  it  yet.  Possibly  somewhere  in  the  unfathomed 
underground  there  ia  a  central  Btation  into  which  all  duties 
run,  arriving  on  time  and  never  causing  delays  and  never  having 
collisions.  But  when  these  claims  tumble  out  in  scores  and 
rush  upon  the  startled  and  overtaxed  pastor  they  ^ve  no  note 
of  harmony.  Thai  riot  and  clash  are  the  storm  center  of  his 
existence. 

"Before  his  head  leaves  his  pillow  in  the  morning  his  books, 
letters,  funerals,  visits,  sermons  unmade,  company,  dinners, 
duns,  bc^ars,  broken  gates,  marketing,—  Ah,  things  innumer- 
able and  unconceived  assail  him  with  demoniacal  fury. 

"Now  as  far  as  pos^ble  he  must  with  the  best  intention 
schedule  his  life  to  meet  all  reasonable  demands  and  upon  every 
performance  there  must  be  the  stamp  of  thoroughness  and 
fidelity.  The  only  dispomtion  to  be  made  of  a  duty  is  to  do  it 
well  and  on  time  and  say  nothing  about  it." 

The  Herald  in  its  report  of  the  meeting  of  the  Portsmouth 
Association  in  June  said:  "Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher  stated  that  he  was 
endeavoring  to  secure  work  for  the  young  men  of  Richmond 
Collie  and  wished  to  bear  from  the  ministers  present  during 
the  session," 

He  writes  on  June  19th  to  his  wife  who  was  at  Old  Point: 

"My  Dear  Jemnjb: 

"The  most  that  I  can  say  of  yesterday  is  that  it  was  a  most 
tremendously  rainy  day.  The  morning  was  spent  in  my  study 
with  Dunnaway.  At  12  M  I  went  to  the  Aiumni  meeting  and 
was  the  third  time  made  president;  had  a  quiet  dinner  with 
the  children.  At  dinner  I  got  a  card  saying  that  BettJe  would 
be  over  at  3  1-2  o'clock.  I  jumped  in  the  buggy  and  put  off  to 
the  depot  where  I  found  her. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  WIFE  137 

"The  children  are  getting  on  well.  They  are  to  have  a  black- 
berry roll  today  and  a  clucken  pie.  Whiteley  (a  Methodist 
Minister)  is  to  dine  with  us. 

"Yours 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

On  the  22nd  he  writes  agtun  to  his  wife: 

"Mt  DBAS  Jennie: 

"This  is  Saturday  morning  and  I  am  far  behind  in  my  pre- 
paration for  to-morrow.  "Mis.  HaJlowell  gave  the  children  a 
"breaking  up  party."  They  invited  Kate,  but  she  had  "nothing 
to  wear"  as  she  said.  Matters  at  home  move  on  better  than  I 
expected.  Orie  is  attentive,  energetic  and  thoughtful  and  Nancy 
does  far  better  than  I  expected.  Kate  is  quiet  and  seems  the 
most  contented  of  all.  Eldridge  is  as  wild  and  romping  as  pos- 
sible but  very  obUgii^.  He  does  all  that  I  tell  him  and  very 
cheerfully— except  when  he  foi^ets  it.    Give  my  warm  regards 

to  the  friends  who  are  with  you.    Tell  old  sister  T that 

it  is  reported  that  she  was  figuring  very  handsomely  in  the  ball 
room  on  Thursday  night  but  I  am  sure  that  she  will  do  the 
correct  thing  in  all  respecta." 

He  writes  on  September  13th  to  his  wife: 

"DffiAR  Jennie: 

"I  am  quietly  at  work.  For  some  cause  there  was  not  a 
quorum  of  deacons  and  hence  no  meeting.  I  have  approached 
some  few  on  the  subject  of  reducing  my  salary  and  they  think 
it  will  be  necessary. 

"My  people  are  unusually  cordial  with  me  and  my  purpose 
is  to  work  my  best  this  season  and  in  every  way  advance  the 
interests  of  the  church,  I  find  myself  in  for  a  lecture  in  New 
Kent  and  am  bothered  about  it.    It  is  Tuesday  17th. 

"I  have  two  of  my  folks  to  bury  to-day,  one  this  morning — 
one  now.  "Yours 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


BALTIUORE  VISIT.      FONDNESS  FOR  OAHES.      HOSPITALrTy. 
ADDRESS  ON  DR.  JBTER. 

In  January  of  this  year,  1879,  he  held  at  the  Eutaw  Place 
church  in  Baltimore  a  revival  meeting  which  was  rich  m  spirit- 
ual fruit  but  the  outatandii^  feature  of  the  viat  for  him  was  hia 
meeting  with  Mr.  Moody,  the  world  renowned  evangelist. 
Nothing  was  ever  so  interesting  to  Mm  as  a  human  b^ng  and 
when  the  particular  "human"  whom  he  was  to  meet  was  such  a 
personality  as  the  above  preacher  it  meant  a  high  day  for  him. 
He  saw  deeply  into  men  and  what  he  saw  in  Mr.  Moody 
thrilled  and  delighted  him.    Concemii^  Mr.  Moody  he  said: 

"On  the  night  of  my  arrival.  Dr.  Kerfoot  told  me  that 
several  ministers  were  to  meet  Mr.  Moody  privately  the  next 
momii^,  and  that  he  had  arranged  for  me  to  be  in  the  company. 
This,  of  course,  was  a  ddightful  surprise  and  privilege  to  me. 
There  were  about  a  dozen,  possibly  a  few  more,  ministers 
present,  having  been  assembled  in  a  quiet  room  at  the  Y.  M.  C. 
A.  Hall.  Asking  for  silence,  Moody  said,  in  substance:  'My 
brethren,  I  called  you  here  because  I  need  you.  I  find  my 
strength  small  in  this  city.  My  spirit  is  bound,  and  I  cannot 
rise,  I  brought  you  here  to  ask  you  to  pray  for  me.  Pray 
that  I  may  have  liberty  and  do  my  work  in  Baltimore.'  By  a 
common  impulse,  all  sank  to  their  knees,  and  for  a  time,  of 
which  not  one  took  note,  there  was  constant  crying.  One  ^ter 
another  led,  until  each  one  had  prayed  aloud,  some  possibly 
more  than  once.  It  was  a  fervent  and  thrilling  meeting,  but  I 
recall  no  prayer  except  that  offered  by  Moody.  That  was 
burned  into  the  very  tissue  of  my  bdi^ — a  revelation  of  the 
138 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BALTIMORE  MEETINGS  139 

most  earnest  man  that  I  had  ever  touched  and,  after  the 
service  ceased,  I  almost  imt^ned  that  Moody  had  really  been 
glorified.    He  shook  Baltimore  that  winter." 

Soon  after  his  return  to  Bichmond  he  9fud  to  his  wife:  "Eutaw 
Place  Church  gave  me  $200  and  I  shall  use  it  for  fixing  up  a 
"preachers'  room  in  the  house."  He  made  a  rule  about  the 
room  that  no  one — be  he  king  or  pope — except  a  preacher  or  a 
preacher's  wife  should  ever  tdeep  in  that  room.  This  became 
as  the  law  of  the  Medea  and  Persians, — which  could  not  be 
broken  But  we  will  let  him  tell  of  his  Baltimore  visit.  The  fol- 
lowing letter  which  he  wrote  to  his  cherished  friend.  Dr.  Thomaa 
Pritchard  of  Haleigh  was  published  in  the  Recorder  and  in  the 
Herald: 

"I  am  just  a  few  days  out  of  Baltimore  after  a  stay  and  work 
there  of  three  weeks.  It  was  one  of  the  most  debgbtful  of  the 
many  bright  and  happy  experiences  that  God  has  given  me  in 
this  world. 

"One  more  thing  about  myself.  When  I  left  Baltimore  I 
found  a  J200  check  in  my  hand  given  me  by  the  Eutaw  Place 
brethren.  It  somewhat  embarrafffled  me,  almost  as  much  as  the 
want  of  such  a  treasure  has  sometimes  done.  The  money 
seemed  a  sacred  thii^ — a  part  of  the  sentiment  and  glory  that 
had  invested  my  soul  during  my  viat.  After  reflection  I  resolved 
that  it  should  not  be  spent  for  casual  or  comjnon  things.  I 
took  it  and  furnished  my  rear  parlor  as  a  'preacher's  room.' 
As  long  as  I  hve  and  am  able  that  room  shaU  be  for  a  restii^ 
place  for  the  Lord's  angels  and  a  remembrance  of  Baltimore. 
We  are  now  busy  in  arranging  all  the  ornaments  and  trimmings 
that  we  can  afford  for  rendering  it  cosy,  inviting  and  beautiful. 
When  finished  I  must  dedicate  it  and  greatly  wish  'my  own 
friends'  might  be  present  to  take  part  in  the  hospitable  exer- 
cises. It  is  to  be  known  as  'Eutaw  Place'.  I  could  have  no 
greater  joy  in  it  all  than  to  have  you  to  be  the  first  to  sleep  in 
It. 

"I  saw  the  Baltimore  preachers.  -  Williams  grows  to  be 
venerable  for  want  of  some  older  man  to  do  that  for  him.  Ker- 
foot  is  a  bundle  of  nervous  fury  and  if  he  explodes  his  fury 
i^unst  anything  it  has  to  go.     .      .    . 

"Dr.  Franklin  Wilson  is  one  of  Heaven's  best.  I  look  at 
him  and  blush  that  I  am  not  a  better  man. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


140  LOVE  FOE  GAMES 

"Moody  impressed  me  to  the  very  bottom  of  my  nature. 
He  is  a  man  of  God.  He  is  honest,  gentle  and  wise — three 
elements  almost  making  a  man  perfect." 

The  room  back  of  the  parlor  was  selected  for  the  preachers' 
room  and  with  its  new  equipment  was  transformed  into  the 
most  beautiful  room  in  the  house.  All  its  furnishings  and 
decorations,  as  far  as  pos^ble,  were  of  blue  and  after  awhile 
it  came  to  be  known  in  the  family  as  the  "Blue  Boom".  When 
the  room  was  completed  it  was  publicly  dedicated,  Rev.  Dr. 
T.  T.  Eaton  of  Petersburg  making  the  dedicatory  speech 

There  was  one  saving  clause  in  his  straining  life.  It  was 
his  love  of  games.  His  nature  clamored  for  them  and  never 
ceased  its  clamor  during  his  life.  If  we  burrow  down  into 
his  soul  for  an  explanation  of  his  fondness  for  games  we  find 
it,  I  believe,  in  his  love  of  contest  and  of  victory.  The  instinct 
for  games  seems  univeraal  and  during  the  centuries  has  ex- 
pressed itself  in  many  forms,  national  as  well  as  individual. 
For  games  that  have  in  them  simply  the  "play"  element — so 
congenial  and  attractive  to  children  he  cared  nothing.  It  was 
the  clash  and  struggle  in  games  that  attracted  him.  He  was 
the  child's  friend  but  he  would  never  romp  and  frolic  with  them 
in  any  meaningless  noises  or  movements.  He  could  not  play 
games  with  them  in  that  sense.  But  in  games  of  encounter 
where  brain  and  daring  were  called  into  play  he  was  ready  at 
first  call  and  the  hours  in  such  games  which  he  Q>ent  with 
children — espedally  in  his  later  life — ^would  if  counted  run  up 
into  surprisingly  high  figures. 

His  love  for  contest  showed  itself  often  in  his  intercourse 
with  men.  He  did  not  like  for  people  blandly  to  agree  with 
him.  He  enjoyed  the  bristle  of  a  controversy.  Conflict  rather 
than  GompUance  on  the  part  of  another  waked  his  powers  to 
their  best 

His  favorite  game  was  Croquet  and  everybody  knew  that 
if  Dr.  Hatcher  was  wanted  in  the  afternoon  he  could  be  found 
at  Rictimond  College  on  the  Croquet  ground.  He  entered 
into  the  contest  mth  an  ardor  that  would  do  credit  to  a  baae- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CROQUET  141 

b&ll  enthusiast  of  today.  During  the  game  he  would  be  oblivious 
of  the  outside  world.  All  his  mental  forces  were  concentrated 
on  the  struggle;  he  wanted  victory.  He  threw  himself  into  the 
game  with  a  perfect  abandon,  suffered  anxieties  and  disap- 
pointments  when  defeat  threatened  him,  pressed  his  antagonist 
harder  than  ever  and  shouted  his  glee  when  victory  perched 
upon  bis  banners.  How  often  after  a  struning  game  that  had  . 
kept  him  alternating  between  hope  and  fear  up  to  the  very  end, 
but  which  closed  with  a  stroke  that  gave  him  the  victory,  bis 
long  teusim  would  pve  way  to  exultation  and  bia  happy 
shouts  could  be  beard  from  one  end  of  the  campus  to  the  other 
and  everybody  when  they  heard  it  knew  what  it  meant.  "Dr. 
Hatcher  has  won"  they  would  say. 

For  a  year  or  more  Prof.  Harris'  yard  was  the  play  ground. 
Every  afternoon  my  father  and  I  would  drive  to  the  College 
for  the  game.  As  we  entered  Prof.  Harris'  yard  and  came  mider 
his  study  window  my  father  would  cry  out  "Harris"  "Harris" 
and  out  from  the  window  would  come  the  reply  "All  right — 
in  a  moment."  The  professor's  papers  would  be  liud  adde  and 
soon  the  contest  would  begin  and  for  an  hour  or  two  we  would 
be  at  it.  Back  and  forth  the  tide  of  battle  would  swing,  for 
Prof.  Harris  and  Dr.  Hatcher  were  croquet  raqjerts, — not  ao 
much  in  the  ample  art  of  being  able  to  send  the  ball  strught 
to  the  desired  mark  but  in  the  more  important  matter  of 
planning  and  plotting  for  victory.  Sometimes  dark  would 
overtake  us  in  the  game  but  it  was  regarded  not.  Handerchiefs 
were  hung  on  the  wickets  and  were  held  over  the  balls.  Dark- 
ness would  settle  on  the  yard  but  still  each  dde  pushed  on 
in  the  hope  of  being  the  winner  while  a  light  of  some  kind  was 
held  over  the  tai^et; — and  when  the  end  came  it  was  a  shouting 
climax. 

Ofttimes  the  games  were  played  out  on  the  College  campus. 
His  croquet  plajdng  with  the  students  linked  itself  helpfully 
into  their  hves. 

The  games  often  drew  spectators  who  became  interested 
in  wfttching  Dr,  Hatcher  not  only  in  his  plays  but  in  bis  enjoy- 


.     D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


142  CROQUET 

ments  and  in  his  disiqipouitmeatf,  in  his  groans  and  in  his 
shouts.  He  was  so  real,  so  truly  himself  that  he  was  naturally 
interesting  and  instructive.  Kev.  H.  W.  Williams,  an  old 
Bichmond  Coll^;e  student  and  now  an  honored  pastor  in 
Georfpa  thus  wrote  in  the  Herald  regarding  Dr.  Hatcher  on  the 
Croquet  groimd: 

"Soon  after  my  anival  at  Bichmond  College  I  met  the  man 
who  had  inspired  the  ambition  which  had  brought  me  there. 
It  was  on  the  croquet  grounds  of  the  campus  and  we  engf^ed  in 
a  game  together.  This  was  the  first  of  many  games  we  played 
together.  In  my  ear  is  ringing  to-day  with  perfect  distinctness 
the  voice  of  Dr.  Hatcher  as  he  many  times  stood  beneath  my 
window  calling:  'Williams,  Williams,  come  out  of  there  and 
lets  have  a  game.'  My  Ufe  was  considerably  influenced  by 
things  that  happened  on  those  grounds  when  Dr.  Hatcher 
was  playii^.  I  remember  hearing  him  say  one  time:  'No  man 
ought  to  be  permitted  to  preach  who  will  cheat  in  a  game  of 
croquet.'  Some  years  afterwards  he  told  me  of  his  votii^ 
agfuust  the  election  of  a  man  to  an  important  podtion  because 
he  remembered  that  he  used  to  dieat  in  that  game  on  the 
College  campus.  I  am  sure  that  my  Ufe  is  different  from  what 
it  would  have  be^  if  I  had  never  engaged  with  Dr.  W.  E. 
Hatcher  in  those  games."  Another  student  Rev.  J.  W.  Wildman 
writes:  "I  was  inclined  to  neglect  exercise  and  necessary  play. 
But  almost  every  afternoon  when  he  [Dr.  Hatcher]  had  at- 
tended to  presong  pastor^  work  he  drove  out  to  the 
College  to  play  croquet  with  Prof.  Harris.  His  example 
coupled  with  the  vast  amount  of  church  work  which  he  did 
was  a  convincii^  argument  as  to  the  value  of  recreation." 

Later  on  in  his  hfe  another  game  seemed  to  win  first  place 
in  his  favor, — ^the  game  of  quoits.  The  probable  reason  was 
that  croquet  required  so  much  bending  of  the  body  that  as  he 
iq)proached  old  age  he  found  it  earner  to  adjust  himself  to  the 
game  of  quoits.  "I  was  pitching  quoits  with  your  father"  writes 
Dr.  W,  W.  Everts  of  Boston  "the  stakes  were  far  apart.  A 
ringer  was  very  r^re.    His  opponent  pitched  a  horse  shoe.    As 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ALREADY  ENGAGED  143 

it  started  Dr.  H&tcher  said:  'I  have  an  impre88i(Hi  that  this 
will  be  a  ringer.'    And  it  was." 

He  delivered  the  Commencement  address  before  the  Female 
College  in  Greenville  S.  C.  and  m  bis  opening  remarks  drew  an 
amusing  picture.  He  began  by  announcing  that  everytime 
he  delivered  a  final  address  before  a  Female  College  he  was 
filled  with  a  sickening  sense  of  ffulure. 

"Why  such  an  unhappy  fate  should  always  pursue  me  at 
such  a  time  is  quickly  expluned,"  he  said.  "In  my  early 
manhood  my  nervous  system  got  a  shock  from  which  it  has 
never  recovered.  From  my  youth  I  have  had  extravagant 
admiration  for  Female  Colleges.  They  seemed  enchanted 
ground  and  I  fanded  that  within  their  claaac  domain  dwelt 
all  the  gendus,  innoc^ice,  beauty  and  glory  of  womanhood.  I 
nursed  the  manly  purpose  that  if  ever  I  spread  my  sail  to  the 
matrimonial  wave  some  gifted  and  scholarly  young  sister  from 
a  Female  Institute  should  go  with  me.  My  youthful  ardor 
soon  turned  to  adoration  and  directed  itself  ^funst  a  certain 
bright-eyed  charmer — ^in  my  eye  the  fairest  of  all  God's  making 
and  in  her  eye  as  I  too  fondly  fancied  shone  ineffable  love  for  me. 

"The  time  was  Sunday  night  and  the  scene  of  the  truedy 
was  the  parlor  of  a  Fetnale  School.  Though  I  had  her  done 
and  though  my  address  was  prepared  and  committed,  when  the 
crisis  came  my  address  stuck  inextricably  in  my  throat  and  I 
broke  ruinously  down  before  I  got  in  sight  of  my  best  poetic 
quotations  ujKin  which  I  mainly  depended  for  brining  her  to 
terms. 

"To  her  credit  be  it  said  that  by  her  blushing  and  decorous 
heatation  she  helped  me  to  an  avowal.  I  think  I  can  say  as  a 
reUgious  man  that  I  harbor  no  bitter  feelings  against  her  but 
I  can  never  forget  that  gleam  of  coquettish  villainy  in  her  eye 
when  after  my  hps  had  told  their  tender  secret  she  informed 
me  that  she  was  already  engaged.  Tumbling  myself  in 
clumsy  desperation  from  the  parlor  to  the  street  and  shrinking 
away  into  a  forsaken  part  of  the  town  I  almost  forgot  my  loss 
of  the  girl  in  my  overwhelming  shame  in  having  broken  down 
in  my  address.  From  that  night  I  have  had  a  powerful  coa.- 
viction  that  delivering  final  addresses  (and  my  first  was  my 
final)  at  Female  institutes  is  at  best  an  uncertain  business. 
There  always  creeps  over  me  the  bewildering  feeUng  that  I  am 
about  to  pop  the  quesUon  to  an  entire  College  of  young  women 
and  Uiat  their  inevitable  reply  will  be  'dready  engaged.' " 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


144  THE  EDUCATED  WOMAN 

Hia  subject  was  the  "Educated  Woman."  He  declared  that 
the  educated  wotnaQ  was  a  modem  institution.  "The  Greek 
ideal  was  beauty  of  form ;  the  Roman  was  that  of  service.  Even 
the  woman  of  Israel,  the  noblest  of  early  times,  received  only 
an  incidental  reli^ous  culture." 

He  declared  that  woman  "sees  truth  with  the  heart.  She 
feeb  her  way  to  her  conclusions." 

He  then  raised  the  question  as  to  why  woman  should  be 
educated  if  it  is  her  heart  rather  than  her  mind  that  guides 
her  and  "she  darts  to  her  concludons  on  the  wings  of  intuition 
and  believes  in  ita  divinity?" 

He  ^ves  two  reasons  in  reply : 

"1.  A  woman's  intuitions  are  partly  mental  and  grow  better 
by  cultivation.  2.  The  specific  value  of  intellectu^  education 
is  to  make  a  woman  examine  her  premises — both  to  make  her 
more  accurate  and  to  prepare  her  to  teach." 

"After  all  education  is  not  to  find  a  new  sphere  for  a  woman 
but  to  fit  her  better  for  the  old  one.  A  woman  is  pretty  sure 
to  think  that  to  change  a  1x)ok  for  a  broom  is  not  in  the  line  of 
promotion." 

"The  mistakes  of  life  spring  uther  from  ignorance  or  perver- 
sity." 

"The  finest  cookery  book  in  the  country  was  written  by  thfe 
most  literary  woman  that  Virpnia  has  produced  for  a  half 
century,  Marion  Harland.  .  .  .  The  young  woman  who  can 
not  help  her  mother  set  the  table,  count  the  spoons,  sew  a 
button  on  her  brother's  clothes,  fry  a  steak,  bake  a  pudding, 
grind  the  coffee,  feed  the  fowls  or  water  the  flowers  is  not 
educated.  She  must  put  her  higher  knowledge  in  use  in  the 
plain  and  humble-work  of  the  home  and  the  church." 

In  August  he  takes  a  long  leap.  Far  out  into  the  mountuns 
of  Southwest  Va.  he  goes  to  attend  the  meeting  of  the  Lebanon 
Association,  to  apeak  for  the  Education  Board  and  to  meet 
the  Baptists  in  that  picturesque,  mountain  country.  In  writing 
about  his  visit  he  said:  "The  first  thing  I  did  and  the  principal 
thing  I  did  in  Bristol  was  to  fall  in  love  with  brother  N.  C. 
Baldwin." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DEATH  OF  DR.  JETER  145 

His  viat  must  have  carried  much  Bunshiue  and  cheer  for  the 
Lebanon  saints  for  one  of  them  wrote  in  the  Herald: 

"The  Education  Board  sent  among  us  a  man  whose  kind, 
open,  christian  face  makes  you  love  ham  even  before  you  feel 
the  warm  grasp  of  his  brotherly  hand.  Of  course  I  mean  its 
president^  Dr.  William  E.  Hatcher." 

Public  collections  had  become  a  sort  of  second  nature  with 
the  Grace  Street  church.  On  appointed  days  there  were  of- 
ferings taken  at  the  morning  service  for  Foreign  Mis^ons,  for 
Home  Missions,  for  State  Missions  and  bo  on;  and  on  each 
occasion  he  would  invariably  preach  on  the  subject  for  the 
day  and  seek  to  kindle  his  hearers,  into  lai^e  generosity  for  the 
Board.  During  this  Fall  season  he  preached  a  series  of  Sunday 
night  sermons  on  "The  Women  of  the  New  Testament."  They 
attracted  large  audiences. 

He  steps  through  the  gateway  of  "1880"  little  dreaming 
of  the  events  which  the  year  held  in  store  for  him.  On  Febru- 
ary 18th  Dr.  Jeremiah  B.  Jeter  ^ed  and  his  death  left  a  large 
gap  in  Dr.  Hatcher's  life.  The  impress  of  Dr.  Jeter's  character 
on  him  was'  very  marked. 

"How  can  I  speak  of  him?"  stud  Dr.  Hatcher  a  few  months 
later.  "I  am  reminded  that  when  I.  was  a  motherless  boy  on 
my  old  father's  knee  and  he  sought  to  enkindle  within  my  soul 
high  aspirations  he  would  point  to  the  example  and  character 
of  this  man  of  God.  Most  keenly  I  feel  that  I  am  not  in  any- 
thing what  he  was,  nor  yet  what  I  would  be,  but  it  is  meet  that 
I  say  that  next  to  my  Savior's  grace  for  any  good  in  me  or 
good  done  by  me  I  am  most  indebted  to  him. 

"Who  coidd  have  ever  dreamed  that  the  rude  Bedford  boy, 
that  set  out  sixty  years  ago  as  a  Baptist  preacher  would  close 
bis  life  in  the  midst  of  such  <^stinction  and  grief?  On  the  day 
of  his  burial  I  was  imprisoned  in  my  chamber  of  sickness  and 
was  denied  even  the  tearful  pleasure  of  following  his  dust 
to  his  silent  home.  But  as  the  cortege  passed  my  gate  I  quit 
my  bed  and  with  my  wet  face  pressed  f^ainst  the  window  pane 
gazed  at  the  hearse  as  it  bore  Mm  away  to  the  cemetery. 

"There  came  back  to  me  the  memory  of  his  first  entrance 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


146  BUILDING  A  HOME 

into  Richmond.  Tbrai  an  awkward,  untutored  youth,  clad  in 
homespun,  covered  with  dust,  astride  his  weary  horse  and 
carrying  in  his  saddle  bags  all  his  earthly  store.  Thus  he  came 
then,  but  now  he  was  going  out  of  the  city,  not  to  come  back 
again.  What  a  change.  Then  a  stranger  in  a  strange  dty,  but 
now  he  was  goii^  out  escorted  by  a  great  and  weeping  host." 

A  few  days  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Jeter,  Dr.  Hatcher  hfted 
himself  up  from  his  sick  bed  and  saiA  to  his  wife.  "Jennie, 
I  am  going  to  build  me  a  house."  His  wife  thought  he  was  out 
of  his  head,— inasmuch  aa  fever  would  often  make  him  delirious. 

"How  is  that?"  she  asked  "What  do  you  mean?  You  have 
no  money." 

"I  will  have  $1000  come  due  this  Summer  from  the  insurance 
money.  We  can  break  up  housekeepii^  and  board  more  cheaply 
than  we  can  now  live.  If  we  can  save  (500  this  Summer  we 
are  safe." 

"I  saw  that  he  waa  sane"  said  his  wife.  "I  made  up  my  mind 
to  help  lum  to  do  it.  We  saved  $500  that  Summer  and  next 
year  I  taught  muse  at  Mrs.  Hallowell's  school, — clotlung 
myself  and  the  children.  The  house,  costing  $3500,  was  built 
and  in  three  years  was  paid  for." 

This  was  the  bouse  at  608  W.  Grace  Street,  about  midway 
between  the  church  and  the  Collie  and  six  or  seven  blocks 
from  each.  Here  he  lived  during  the  remainder  of  his  pastorate. 
Multitudes  were  destined  to  cross  its  threshold  and  many  were 
the  happy  scenes  to  be  enacted  within  its  walls. 

The  third  story  front  room  was  made  the  "prophets'  cham- 
ber" or  the  "Blue  Room"  and  it  was  a  long  and  noble  ministerial 
procesmon  that  tramped  its  way  up  the  stairs  and  slept  within 
its  sacred  precincte.  Many  were  the  mornings  when  I  would 
pound  on  the  door  and  announce  to  the  sleeping  "prophet" 
that  it  was  "time  to  get  up"  and  "breakfast  will  be  ready  in  a 
few  minutes." 

Christian  hospitality  was  the  spirit  of  the  home.  It  was  for 
him  and  his  wife  "open  house"  all  the  year  round.  He 
would  pick  up  preachers  on  the  streets  and  in  meetings,  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


CHRISTIAN  HOSPITALITY  147 

bring  them  home  with  him.  He  would  find  them  packed 
away  in  hotels  And  would  ferret  them  out  and  bring  them  to 
the  welcome  and  joy  of  his  house, — ^to  the  restful  cosy  quiet 
of  the  Blue  Boom.  In  his  early  married  life  Ms  wife  stud  to 
him  oae  day  when  he  was  ^ving  her  money  for  marketing: 

"You  give  me  too  much  each  day  for  our  small  family" 
to  which  he  replied: 

"I  always  want  to  ffve  enough  for  you  to  have  somethimg 
extra  at  meals  so  that  there  will  always  be  somethij^  for 
vintors"  and  the  rule  about  the  "extras"  lasted  to  the  end. 
His  wife  never  knew  when  he  would  bring  in  a  guest.  Often 
he  would  come  home  late  for  a  meal  and  would  come  marching 
into  the  dining  room  with  the  dinner  already  well  under  way 
and  moat  of  it  out  at  nght  and  he  would  caU  out  to  his  attendant 
friend  as  he  would  hear  the  rattle  of  the  knives  and  forks  back 
in  the  dinii^  room :  "Come  aa  back ;  I  expect  they  have  eaten  up 
everything  on  the  plantatJcoi  but  we  will  try  our  fortunes 
together" — or  some  such  playful  ^iression  as  that.  An  extra 
plate  and  seat  were  quickly  forth  coming  and  also  an  extra 
dinner  and  to  this  was  added  a  warm  and  happy  welcome.  Re- 
garding his  guests  the  hospitable  motto  of  the  home  seemed  to 


"Come  in  the  evening  or  come  in  the  morning 
Come  when  you're  looked  for  or  come  without  warning." 

As  for  the  special  "dinners"  and  "breakfasts"  and  "suppers" 
at  which  he  gathered  his  friends  they  were  multitudinous. 
Thousands  of  dollars  were  spent  that  could  be  charged  only  to 
the  "hospitality"  account.  The  other  members  of  the  family 
had  their  own  invited  guests  and  he  took  equal  pleasure  in 
them. 

"The  Lord  ^ves  to  me  because  I  give  to  him"  he  said  to 
his  wife  one  day  when  the  subject  of  thdr  laige  expenditures 
for  entertwnment  was  being  discussed.  Gueste  were  ever 
coming  and  going. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


148  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  ANNIVERSARIES 

"Blest  that  abode  where  want  and  pain  despair 

And  every  stranger  finda  a  vacant  chair. 

Bleat  be  those  feasts  with  simple  plenty  crowned 

Where  all  the  ruddy  family  around 

Laugh  at  the  jests  or  pranks  that  never  fail 

Or  sigh  with  pity  at  some  mournful  tale 

Or  press  the  bashful  stranger  to  his  food 

And  learn  the  luxury  of  doing  good." 

His  gatherings  of  preachers  around  his  table  brought  some 
choice  experiences.  On  such  occasions  there  were  two  visitors 
whom  he  always  sought  to  keep  on  the  outdde — Glumness 
and  Dulness. 

At  the  Sunday  School  Anniversaries  Dr.  Hatcher  always 
presented  the  prizes  and  he  kept  the  audience  which  generally 
overflowed  the  building  in  happiest  good  humor.  Instead  of 
having  all  the  prisw  winners  grouped  around  him  at  once  to 
receive  their  rewards  he  Would  call  them  out  from  the  audience 
one  by  one  and  as  each  would  march  to  the  front  he  would  not 
only  have  a  bright  word  for  him  but  would  keep  up  a  contin- 
uous rapid-fire  of  pleasantries  and  humorous  sallies.  The  Rich- 
mond Dispatch,  in  reportii^  one  of  the  celebrations,  said  of 
Dr.  Hatcher:  "his  playful  hits  were  greeted  by  roars  of 
laughter." 

He  was  presentii^  prizes  for  punctual  attendance  and  among 
the  prize  winners  was  an  old  man  Mr.  Henry — - — — ,  about  75 
years  of  age,  hump  backed  and  dckly.  When  Dr.  Hatcher 
came  to  his  name  he  said: 

"And  here  is  a  prize  for  another  little  boy  and  if  little  Henry  . 

will  come  forward  I  will  be  happy  to  present  to  the 

little  fellow  his  prize." 

Far  back  in  the  audience  the  old  man  pushed  his  way  out  of 
the  pew  and  started  up  the  fusle.  His  asthma  was  making  him 
pant  and  blow  in  lively  fashion. 

"Come  on  little  Henry"  called  out  Dr.  Hatcher.  "Come  right 
up  here  my  little  man".  The  old  man's  march  up  the  aJsle 
brought  down  the  house  with  roars  of  laughter  and  no  one 
seemed  to  enjoy  it  more  than  the  aforesmd  75  year  old  Henry. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ADDRESS  ON  DR.  JETER  149 

In  May  he  attended  the  meeting  of  the  Southern  Baptist 
Convention  at  Lexii^ton  Ky.    He  spoke  on  Foreign  Missions. 

There  were  at  this  time  some  thomB  in  his  pillow.  The 
"disturbing  element"  in  his  church  were  still  on  his  track 
and  their  arrows  often  struck  him.  It  was  the  old  faction  and 
they  gave  him  a  world  of  trouble. 

"He  knew  how  to  wait  upon  the  Lord"  says  his  wife.  "Often 
at  this  time  his  fbmily  thought  that  he  ought  not  to  suffer  so 
much  indignity — that  he  ought  to  give  up  the  church;  but  his 
reply  would  be:  'Wait,  wait;  I  can  never  retreat.  I  was  not 
bom  to  shirk  trouble.  Wait  for  deliverance.   It  will  come.' " 

One  of  the  greatest  pubHc  occasions  of  his  life  was  the  meet- 
ing in  Petersburg  of  the  General  Association  in  June  when  he 
delivered  the  memorial  address  on  Dr.  Jeter. 
He  describes  the  scene: 

"The  handsome  auditorium  was  fittingly  decorated.  A  vast 
congregation,  including  several  hundred  Baptist  ministers, 
many  distinguished  laymen  and  not  a  few  chief  women  of  the 
state,  filled  the  house  to  overflowing.  On  the  platform  were 
assembled  the  old  preachers — dear  old  men  of  God  who  had 
long  been  associated  with  Dr.  Jeter  in  christian  labors.  A 
truly  heavenly  spirit,  sad  and  yet  delightful,  pervaded  the 
assembly.  It  was  one  of  those  unique,  impressive,  wonderful 
occasions  which  could  never  be  repeated  and  cannot  be  fully 
appreciated  by  those  who  did  not  witness  it.  It  was  the  re- 
markable spectacle  of  the  Virginia  Baptists  in  solemn  assembly, 
lamenting  the  loss  and  honoring  the  memory  of  the  most 
illustrious  man  that  God  had  ever  given  them." 

He  was  at  his  best  that  night  and  a  memorable  occasion  it 
proved  to  be.  I  was  present  uid,  while  I  was  too  young  to 
estimate  fully  the  address,  yet,  I  well  remember  the  remarkable 
impression  it  produced  on  the  audience  and  the  enthusiastic 
appreciation  it  awakened.  I  was  caught  in  the  jam  of  the 
aisles  at  the  close  of  the  service  and  from  every  lip  as  the  people 
looked  into  each  other's  happy  faces  leaped  the  words  "Oh, 
what  a  great  address."    "It  was  wonderful!"    "Wasn't  it  glor- 


D.qit.zeaOv'GoOt^lc 


150  ADDRESS  ON  DR.  JKTER 

iouB?"  He  had  lifted  them  to  the  hraght  of  Jeter's  ideals,  and, 
at  the  close,  lie  had  pointed  to  Jeter's  glorified  spirit  ascending 
the  aides;  and  when  the  speaker  ended  and  the  congregation 
was  dismissed  and  as  they  surged  around  the  pulpit  platform 
and  in  the  lusles,  gracing  each  other's  hands  there  was  a  light 
on  their  faces  that  seemed  as  if  it  might  have  come  from  the 
other  world.  I,  a  boy,  saw  it  and  felt  the  thrill  of  it  and  the 
impresdon  made  upon  my  mind,  as  I  was  jostled  and  squeezed 
in  the  erowded  fusle,  was,  "My  papa  haa  made  a  wcmderful 
speech  tonight."    In  referring  to  this  address  the  Herald  swd: 

"This  splendid  address,  for  vigor  of  thought  and  maturity 
of  expression,  was  one  of  the  best  ^>eeches  ever  delivered  before 
the  General  ABsociation.     None  ever  produced  a  profounder 


The  address,  too  long  to  be  presented  here,  closed  with  the 
following  words: 

"He  died  splendidly — in  all  his  ripened,  glorious  prime.  He 
did  not  crumble  into  decay,  nor  shrivel  into  imbetality.  Dia- 
ease  did  not  waste  and  age  did  not  shatter  him;  but,  like  the 
imperial  leader  of  Israel,  he  came  to  Pisgab  with  eye  undimmed 
and  strength  unabated.  I  count  his  death  pre-eminently  happy. 
In  the  BtillnesB  of  the  winler  night,  when  his  hour  came  to  go 
his  loving  father  put  his  finger  upon  the  enginery  of  his  heart — 
that  heart  which  had  been  beating,  beating,  beating  for  nearly 
eighty  years  and  beating  always  highest  for  his  father's  honor. 
He  felt  the  solemn  touch  and  the  vast  machineiy  of  his  life 
trembled,  groaned,  creaked  and  shivered;  but  only  for  a  moment 
and  then  standing  suddenly  still,  his  glad  spirit  was  out  and 
gone,  upward  and  away  in  its  celestial  flight.  It  was  a  trans- 
lation in  its  BuddennesB  and  an  ascension  in  its  triumph  and 
glory. 

"When  he  left  the  world, — Ah  but  he  has  not  left  it.  I 
do  not  say,  for  I  do  not  know,  that  his  q>irit  yet  remains  with 
us.  Perhaps  it  is  so.  But  I  do  know  that  the  light  of  his  life 
will  not  go  out.  The  track  thro^^  space  along  which  he  as- 
cended to  his  eternal  home  will  always  be  Iimainoue.  I  have 
fancied,  if  indeed  it  is  a  fancy,  that  when  the  gate  of  pearl 
was  opened  for  hirr  to  enter,  truant  beams  of  the  heavenly 
glory  broke  out  and  are  now  at  la^e  on  the  earth. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ADDRESS  ON  DR.  JETER  151 

"Wh&t  a  happy  moment  when  his  spirit  crossed  the  river  and 
saw  the  great  cityl  What  floods  of  rapture  swept  over  his  soul 
when  he  heard  the  peal  of  the  heavenly  mufdc  and  saw  the 
face  of  his  redeemer!  What  a  greeting  his  old  comrades  gave 
him, — ^BroaduB,  Poindexter,  Taylor  and  Fuller!  What  a 
moment  when  he  and  Witt  met  in  their  eternal  reunioni  Joy 
upon  joy  when  he  saw  ^ain  the  spirit  of  his  glorified  mother. 
If  he  could  be  happy  amid  the  dianges  and  sorrows  of  this 
worid,  I  wonder  what  Ms  feelings  were  when  he  touched  the 
pavement  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem.  If  on  the  December 
morning,  he  shouted  as  he  emerged  from  the  baptismal  waters 
I  wonder  what  he  said  at  his  coronation." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XIV 
1880-1881 

REPARTEE.      CALL  TO  LOUISVILLE. 

During  the  Summer  be  began  the  erecti<Hi  of  hia  own  home 
and  also  the  remodeling  of  his  church  building, 

"I  went  to  a  long  but  very  hannonious  church  meeting  at 
night"  he  writes  his  wife  on  Jidy  14th.  "The  furious  brother  was 
absent  and  everything  went  beautifully  and  what  is  very  rare 
I  went  home  and  had  a  glorious  sleep.  .  .  .  The  church 
decided  during  repairs  to  close  at  night  but  gave  me  no  vacation. 
I  think  that  they  forgot  It  but  possibly  they  may  not  want  me 
to  be  away  during  the  Summer.  Of  course  I  must  go  a  part 
of  the  time." 

He  hied  himself  away  to  the  mountains,  going  far  up  into 
Nelson  county  to  wd  Rev.  S.  P.  Huff  in  a  protracted  meeting 
at  his  country  church.  He  carried  a  fifteen  year  old  lad  with 
him,  and  one  day  Mr.  Huff  was  driving  them  along  the  road 
in  his  rockaway  and  the  boy  was  using  his  rubber  "gravel 
shooter"  banging  away  at  objects  on  the  road  side. 

Soon  they  came  in  sight  of  some  cows  drowsily  grazing  on  a 
slope,  probably  125  feet,  or  more,  from  the  road,  and  from  the 
neck  of  each  cow  was  swin^ng  a  bell. 

"Hit  the  bell  on  that  cow  and  I  will  give  you  a  quarter" 
called  out  Dr.  Hatcher  singling  out  one  of  the  cows.  The  offer 
made  the  boy  jump  and  put  him  on  his  mettle.  He  leaned 
forward,  pulled  back  the  rubber,  took  eager  aim  and  sent  the 
pebble  sin^g  through  the  tur  with  nervous  expectancy. 
A  "tjng-a-ling"  from  the  bell  brought  a  laughing  shout  of  ap- 
152 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


IN  A  COUNTRY  HOME  153 

{Hxnral  from  Dr.  Hatcher  and  hia  companitHi  and  a  feeling  of 
triumph  and  a  quarter  to  the  highly  privileged  lad  bedde  them. 

I  wmt  with  him  to  the Association  where  a  char- 
acteristic incident  occured.  It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  first 
day  and  delegates  were  beii^  ass^ed  to  their  homes  where 
they  were  to  be  entertained.  My  father  and  I  were  out  in  the 
church  yard  and  an  old  farmer,  with  a  rugged  face  and  simple 
garb,  approached  us  and  sud:  "Dr.  Hatcher,  I  want  you  to  go 
home  with  me  ton^ht.  I  live  several  miles  down  the  creek 
but  if  you  can  put  up  with  my  living,  I'll  be  mighty  glad  to 
have  you  come." 

The  old  fellow's  general  appearance  indicated  very  plain 
Uvii^  and  I  confess  I  did  not  draw  any  bright  pictures  of  our 
prospective  entertainment  for  the  night.  In  the  meantime 
other  gentlemen  came  up  with  their  invitations.  "Doctor 
Hatcher,"  stud  one,  "I  want  you  as  my  guest  to-night,"  and 
yet  another,  "Doctor,  I  have  come  for  you;  my  wife  said  I  must 
certainly  brii^  Dr.  Hatcher  home  with  me  tonight." 

As  these  men  of  finer  garb  and  appearance  added  their 
invitations  I  saw  the  old  fanner  from  down  the  creek,  with  a 
disappomted  look  on  his  face,  shrink  back, — or  was  almost 
crowded  back — by  the  gathering  group.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  surprised  and  delighted  look  that  came  to  the  old  man  as 
Dr.  Hatcher  Sfud:  "I  am  going  with  my  old  friend  over  there." 
He,  of  course,  expressed  his  appreciation  of  the  other  invitations. 
I  think  he  must  have  seen  the  disappointment  in  the  kindly 
face, — at  any  rate  he  went;  and  the  vifdt: — it  turned  out  as 
such  visits  usually  turned  out  for  him.  Great  times  he  had 
with  his  happy  hearted  old  host;  other  preachers  were  included 
in  the  list  of  guests  and  among  them  all  none  were  happier 
than  Dr.  Hatcher  though  his  happiness  was  upset  for  a  few 
moments  on  the  next  morning.  Several  ministers  were  in  the 
room  tc^ether.  Dr.  Hatcher  was  lying  in  bed,  and  one  of  the 
nunistera  ran  to  his  bed,  and  in  a  spirit  of  fun  b^sn  to  shake 
him  very  violoitiy,  saying:  "H^gho,  Hatcher;  wake  upl  wake 
up;  Why  d<mt  you  get  up"  or  some  sudi  words  as  these. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


154  CAPABLE  OF  ANGER 

But  he  <Ud  not  like  such  ffuuiliarity  and  rough  handlii^. 
In  f&ct  he  eeemed  to  resent  it  and  with  a  good  deal  of  fire  he 
retorted: 

"Stop  that,  I  do  not  like  it  at  all  and  you  must  not  take 
such  liberties." 

It  startled  me,  for  it  was  rare,  indeed,  that  I  ever  heard  such 
outbursts  from  him.  His  irritation  soon  passed  away,  however, 
like  the  mist  of  the  momiii^,  but  for  the  moment  his  anger 
suffered  an  explo^on  and  it  made  pliun  to  all  the  observers  in 
that  room  that  morning  that  whatever  jocularities  they  might 
wish  to  indulge  in  with  the  Doctor  they  had  better  not  include 
in  their  list  an  early  morning  jostle  in  bed. 

On  another  oceadon  his  anger  at  a  brother — a  minister  I 
think — rose  to  a  pitch  of  fury.  He  and  others  had  ascended  a 
tall  mountain  and  were  standing  upon  an  immense  rocky 
level  at  the  summit  and  were  enjoying  the  splendid  view. 

The  great  rock  lifted  itself  high  at  the  top  of  a  precipice. 
As  they  were  standing  several  yards  from  the  edge  of  the  table 
rock,  one  of  the  number,  a  big,  burly  brother,  picked  up  Dr. 
Hatcher  in  his  arms  and  started  on  a  dash  with  him  towards  the 
e%e  of  that  precipice  in  a  threatening  manner,  but  in  a  spirit 
of  mischievous  fun.    It  infuriated  Dr.  Hatcher. 

He  was  partly  frightened  by  being  hurried  so  predpitat«!y 
to  the  mountfun  top  edge  but  even  more  he  was  indignant  at 
such  ruthless  handlii^  by  the  brother.  He  manned  to  wrest 
himself  from  his  grasp  and  delivered  himself  of  a  volcanic 
discourse  to  the  brother  aforesaid. 

"Beware  the  fury  of  a  patient  man." 

A  minister,  one  day,  greatly  exasperated,  used  violent  lan- 
guage. An  Elder  said  "Dominie,  you  should  restrain  your  tem- 
per." "Restrain  my  temper;  I'd  have  you  Imow,  Sir,  I  restrun 
more  temper  in  five  minutes  than  you  do  in  five  years." 

He  was  aroused  when  any  one  sought  to  take  advantage 
of  him,  whether  in  the  social  circle,  in  pubhc  assemblies  or  in 
any  kind  of  phydcal  handling.    He  had  in  him  a  spirit  of 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


REPARTEE  165 

retaliation  that  resented  an  attack.  In  the  matter  of  physical 
encounters  he  was  especially  sen«tive,  because  of  his  crippled 
hand,  which  practically  put  him  hors  de  combat. 

There  were  occasons  when  one  would  seek  to  make  a  spec- 
tacle of  him  by  putting  him  in  an  awkward  portion.  With 
reference  to  such  cases  he  add: 

"My  instinct  for  retaliation  always  came  into  play.  It 
sometimes  sprang  into  the  arena  without  granting  me  one 
moment  for  forethought.  The  man  who  hit  me,  I  hit — ^not 
always  wisely  and  not  always  wittily,  though  possibly  I  might 
be  candid  enough  to  say  that  if  I  had  any  success  in  public 
collisions  with  others,  it  was  in  the  way  of  repartee  and  in  speak- 
ing thus  frankly  I  cannot  acquit  myself  of  an  unseemly  love  of 
victory.  It  really  seemed  to  me  that  in  these  unexpected 
passages  at  arms  my  answer  was  invariably  bom  of  the  attack. 
It  seemed  to  be  waiting  there  for  my  use  and  hardly  seemed 
the  product  of  my  own  thought." 

I>urii^  his  earlier  ministry  he  was  attending  the 

AsBOciatitm  and  one  night  he  and  several  other  ministers  were 

entertained  at  the  same  home.   Rev,  Reuben  J ,  an  old 

and  highly  revered  pastor,  whose  religion  was  of  the  serious 
cast,  was  one  of  the  number.  Mr.  Hatcher  and  several  other 
young  preachers  found  themselves  in  the  same  room  that  night 
with  brother  Reuben  who  had  already  retired  and  the  younger 
ministers  thought  that  he  was  asleep.  They  were  in  a  jovial 
frame  and  were  indulging  in  some  merry  jokes.  All  at  imce, 
brother  Reuben  slowly  lifted  his  head  from  his  pillow  and 
mournfully  drawled  out:  "What  is  this  I  hear;  ministers  of  the 
goi^  of  OUT  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  attendance  upon  a  reli^ous 
Aaaociati<m,  and  here  indulg^ii^  in  such  boisterous  uid  worldly 
levity." 

Witik  that  doleful  pronouncement  his  head  went  back  upon 
the  pillow  Mid  there  ensued  an  awful  alence  and,  as  the  young 
preachers  began  to  feel  the  awkwardness  of  the  ^tuation,  Mr. 
Hatcher,  said:  "Brother  Moderator,  I  move  that  the  solemn 
came  in  at  the  wrong  time." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


156  REPARTEE 

The  spell  was  broken  and  the  other  jokers  declared  after- 
wards that  they  h^led  William  E.  as  their  benefactor.  Brother 
Reuben  then  passed  into  the  land  of  Nod. 

He  had  a  pleasant  little  encounter  one  morning  in  the  pastor's 

conference  in  Bichmond  with  Dr.  H ,     Every  Sunday, 

in  Dr.  H 's  choir  gallery,  at  the  rear  of  the  pulpit, 

stood  a  German  professor  of  Musdc  who,  with  his  comet,  led 
the  congregation  in  the  singing. 

At  the  Conference  that  morning  the  preachers  were  making 
rei>ortB.    One  of  them  said: 

"I  beard  Dr.  Hatcher  preach  on  yesterday  and  I  greatly 
enjoyed  his  sermon.  It  began  quietly  and  simply  but  it  grew 
lai^er  and  larger  to  the  end.    It  reminded  me  of  a  horn." 

"A  brass  hom"  blurted  out  Dr.  H in  a  gruff  and 

drawling  voice  and  a  sly  twinkle  in  hia  eye,  and  with  a  burst 
of  laughter  from  the  Conference. 

"Yes"  retorted  Dr.  Hatcher  "and  I  blew  my  own  hom;  I  did 
not  have  to  hire  a  big  fat  Dutchman  to  stand  up  in  my  choir 
and  blow  it  for  me." 

During  the  summer  it  was  announced  that  he  would  preach 
in  a  certmn  mount^n  village.  A  few  hours  before  the  service 
he  was  approached  by  a  lady,  who  was  a  member  of  another 
Denomination,  who  sought  an  introduction  to  him. 

"Dr.  Hatcher"  she  stud  in  a  confidential,  but  peremptory, 
tone  "I  have  a  special  request  to  make  of  you." 

He  bowed  his  prettiest  to  the  lady  and  begged  her  to  announce 
her  derarea. 

"We  are  goii^  to  have  a  concert  at  our  church  tonight,  and  I 
want  to  ask  that  you  will  begin  your  sermon  as  quickly  as  you 
posably  can,  and  that  you  will  preach  just  as  short  a  sermon 
as  you  can,  and  then  ask  the  congregation  to  come  around  to 
the  concert  at  our  church." 

The  Herald,  in  tellii^  of  this  incident,  said:  "It  is  reported 
that  the  sermon  was  unusually  long." 

He  appeared  in  one  of  his  happiest  roles  when  speaking  at 
District  Associations.    He  seemed  always  ready  and  his  speeches 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ENTERING  THE  NEW  AUDITORIUM  157 

had  in  them  a  spice  and  sparkle  that  made  him  very  popular. 
The  Richmond  Dispatch  stud  that  whenever  he  arose  to  speak 
there  "came  upon  every  face  a  look  of  satisfaction  which  seemed 
to  say,  'Now  we  shall  have  it.'  " 

In  hia  travels  he  crossed  the  track  of  a  certain  .Baptist 
preacher  of  that  day  who  was  befpunit^  to  take  dips  into  the 
"political  waters," — to  the  regret  of  his  ministerial  brethren. 

One  night  Dr.  Hatcher  preached  at  Court  House 

from  the  text,  "And  Lot  dwelt  in  the  cities  of  the  plain  and 
pitched  his  tent  towards  Sodom."  At  one  place  in  the  sermon, 
he  said,  "Brethren,  it  has  been  suggested  that  Lot  was  a  ruler 
in  Sodom,  but  I  do  not  believe  it.  Lot  got  down  low,  lower 
than  the  very  dogs,  but  I  do  not  beheve  that  he  ever  dabbled 
in  politics."  The  above  mentioned  preacher  was  one  of  his 
listeners. 

On  Nov.  2l8t  he  and  his  Grace  Street  people  entered  their 
church  auditorium  which  had  been  refurnished  and  beautified. 
It  was  bis  custom  to  make  much  of  special  days  in  his  church 


"A  warm  and  happy  greeting  to  you  all"  he  smd  in  his 
opening  words.  "Brethren  beloved,  saints  of  this  church,  I 
give  you  a  pastor's  coi^atulation  as  you  return  to  the  Lord's 
house.  Come  in  ye  biased  of  the  Lord  rich  and  poor,  old  and 
young;  come  in  to  the  place  which  your  own  generous  love 
has  renovated  and  beautified  as  the  dwelling  place  of  the  Most 
High.  .  .  .  For  many  days  some  of  you  have  longed  to 
see  what  your  eyes  now  behold  and  you  are  happy." 

The  skies  smiled  brightly  upon  pastor  and  people  and  they 
little  thought  that  in  a  few  days  he  would  receive  a  letter  that 
would  mark  an  epoch  in  his  life.  He  received  a  call  about 
Dec.  13th  from  the  Walnut  Street  Baptist  Church  in  Louisville, 
Ky.,  at  that  time  probably  the  most  commanding  pastorate 
in  the  South.    The  letter  closed  as  follows; 

"We  are  informed  of  the  devotion  of  your  church  in  BJchmond 
to  you  and  the  opposition  you  will  have  to  contend  with  if 
you  are  inclined  to  accept  the  call;  but  we  believe  the  good 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


158  THE  CALL  TO  LOUISVILLE 

of  the  Baptist  denomination  requires  your  acceptance  and  that 
you  yourself  will  be  blessed  in  making  the  Bacii&ce  of  any 
personal  attachment  and  comforts  for  the  time  being  and  that 
in  the  near  future  you  will  thank  God  that  you  made  the 
movement. 

"At  any  event,  we  hope  that  you  will  make  us  a  visit  at  any 
early  date.    Youre  in  Christian  love 

Junius  Caldwell 
Arthur  Peter 
Wm.  Moses 
John  B.  McFerran 
Mason  W.  Sherrill 
W.  B.  CaldweU 
Wm.  Harrison 
John  H.  Weller 

Deacons  of  the  Church." 


This  letter  struck  him  a  heavy  blow.  It  confronted  bim 
with  the  question  as  to  whether  the  reminder  of  his  life's 
work  should  have  its  headquartera  in  Vir^nia,  or  in  the  Middle 
West.  No  other  pastorate  in  the  entire  country  could  have 
appealed  to  him  as  strongly  as  did  that  one.  In  Louisville 
was  located  the  Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminary,  where 
were  gathered  for  truning  two  or  three  hundred  young  min- 
isters from  different  parts  of  the  world.  It  is  not  surprising 
that  the  call  startled  and  bewildered  him. 

He  stood  at  the  parting  of  the  ways.  On  the  one  hand  lay 
the  wide  field  in  the  Middle  West,  while,  on  the  other,  lay  his 
own  State,  where  he  had  built  up  his  ministry  and  estabtished 
his  influence.  In  the  meantime  the  news  of  the  Louisville  call 
took  wings  and  met  him  wherever  he  went.  Friends  on  the 
street  and  in  the  social  circle  assured  him  of  thdr  devotion 
and  th^r  earnest  hope  that  he  would  not  go.  By  almost  every 
m^l  came  letters,  some  of  them  lining  up  on  the  fdde  of  Loui»- 
ville  and  others  making  a  plea  for  BJchmond.  Dr.  M.  B. 
Wharton,  a  former  pastor  of  the  Walnut  Street  Church,  wrote; 
"Think  well  before  you  decline.     It  is  in  my  increment,  par 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  CALL  TO  LOUISVILLE  159 

excellence,  the  pastorate  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention, 
especially  Eonce  the  Semmary  has  been  located  there." 

His  lifelong  friend,  Dr.  A.  E.  Owen,  writes: 

"You  are  among  the  foremost  men,  if  not  the  foremost  man, 
in  the  General  Association  of  'Virpnia.  If  you  go  there  ia  no  one 
who  could  exactly  fill  your  place. 

"And  yet  though  it  costs  me  a  pang  to  write  it  I  would  say, 
'Go'.  Louisville  is  now,  and  is  destined  to  be  still  more  bo, 
a  Baptist  center  &nd  your  inBuence  would  go  out  all  over  the 
South  and  into  portions  of  the  North. 

"But,  at  last,  this  is  a  matter  between  you  and  your  Savior, 
I  will  quote  here  a  sentence  that  you  wrote  to  me  when  I 
sought  your  advice  in  regard  to  coming  here.  You  said  'Send 
your  tel^rams  to  Heaven.'     I  can  but  repeat  the  injunctioQ." 

Dr.  Andrew  Broadus,  Jr.,  writes  him  that  Virginia  Baptist 
ministers  have  never  done  well  in  the  West,  Dr,  R.  M.  Dudley, 
preadent  of  Georgetown  College,  writes: 

"Louisville  is  more  than  ever  destined  to  become  a  commer- 
cial center  for  the  Southwest,  .  .  Here  (at  Louisville)  you 
have  an  opportunity  to  plant  your  self  at  the  very  source  of 
power  and  make  your  influence  felt  far  and  near." 

In  our  home  the  rafpng  question  was,  "will  we  go  to  Louis- 
ville or  not?"  and  many  ni^ts, — and  far  into  the  late  hours — 
I  sat  aroimd  the  fire  in  the  mtting  room  listening  to  him  and  my 
mother  talldng  over  the  mtuation. 

His  new  home  at  608  West  Grace  Street  had  just  been  com- 
pleted and  entered.  When  the  call  came  the  pictures  were  then 
resting  on  the  floor  against  the  walls  waiting  to  be  hm^  and 
there  they  stood,  while  the  Louisville  matter  hung  fire.  "If  we 
go  to  Louisville  I  will  not  need  to  hang  the  pictures"  said  my 
mother  one  day  and  the  rumor  sped  to  the  Walnut  Street 
ladies  in  Louisville  that  Dr.  Hatcher's  wife  had  said  that  if 
Dr.  Hatcher  went  to  Louisville  she  would  never  hang  another 
picture.  * 

His  Chtirch  awaited  his  verdict  while  they  crowded  him 
with  their  appeals  that  he  would  not  leave  them.    Not  all  of 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


160  THE  CALL  TO  LOXHSVILLE 

his  members  however,  joined  in  this  appeal.  "The  mifriendly 
few"  were  still  ^ving  him  trouble  and  his  family  thought  that 
the  factional  bother  in  the  church  was  a  stroi^  reason  why  he 
should  get  from  under  the  Grace  Street  strain  and  accept  the 
call  to  Louisville. 

Christmas  came  and  still  the  question  hung  unanswered. 

His  friend,  Dr.  J.  R.  Bagby,  writes  him:  "I  d<Htt  think  the 
College  would  rally  from  the  blow  your  leaving  would  gpve  it 
for  iffQ  years.  Already,  I  have  heard  one  mo«ier  say,  'If  Dr. 
Hatcher  is  going  away  I  don't  tbinkmy  boy  can  go  to  Richmond 
College.'  " 

Upon  a  repeated  invitation  from  the  Walnut  Street  Church 
he  visited  Louisville,  leaving  Richmond  im  Jan.  6th.  Among 
the  members  of  the  Walnut  Street  Church  were  Drs.  John  A. 
Broadus,  and  Baal  Manly  of  the  TheoIo(pcaI  Seminary.  He 
preached  for  the  Church  on  Jan.  9th  on  "Jacob,"  a  sermon 
which  he  had  preached  on  the  previous  Sunday  to  bis  own 
church  and  which  became  one  of  his  most  popular  character 


While  in  Louisville  he  received  from  his  deacons  in  Bichmond 
an  appeal  to  him  that  he  would  not  leave  Grace  Street.  This 
appeal,  however,  was  not  mgned  by  all  the  deacons.  One  of 
the  absentees  was  unable  to  be  present  at  the  meeting.  "The 
others,  who  were  abs^it,  I  am  not  advised  as  to  the  reason" 
vrites  Deacon  Browne.  "The  resolutions  were  adopted  un- 
animously and  cordially.  Dont  decide  the  matter  until  your 
return." 

He  returned  to  XUchmond,  but  made  no  announcement 
upon  his  arrival.  At  home  we  kept  him  busy  telling  us  about 
his  visit  and  his  pictures  sometimes  made  our  mouths  water 
for  liOuisville. 

Louisville  presses  its  plea.  Mr  Junius  Caldwell  writes  him 
from  Louisville: 

"You  are  often  inquired  about  most  anxiously  once  you 
left  and  there  is  but  one  tone  to  the  questiooi  'Have  you  beard 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  CALL  TO  LOUISVILLE  161 

from  Brother  Hatcher?'  and  that  is  followed  by  words  of 
emphaedB  'Oh;  I  do  hope  he  will  come.'  We  have  not  heard  a 
word  from  you  ance  you  were  here." 

Mr.  Caldwell  then  goes  on  to  say  that  the  church  would 
either  ^ve  him  $1000  for  moving  expenses  or  that  they  would — 
if  he  would  prefer  it — ^be  glad  to  give  him  an  amoimt  which  he 
thought  would  meet  his  probable  expenses.    He  then  continues: 

"We  are  remembering  you  in  our  prayer  meettags.  Brother 
Hatcher,  my  heart  gets  so  full  of  your  coming  and  of  the  work 
which  I  thmk  God  has  for  you  to  do  here  that  heart  throbs 
and  tears  almost  overwhelm  me.  Do  not  disappoint  us  by 
declining  our  call." 

For  over  a  month  the  suspense  continued.  Letters  eune  from 
different  parts  of  Virginia  urging  him  to  remain  at  Grace 
Street.  He  stated,  the  latter  part  of  January,  that  he  would 
annotmce,  on  the  next  Stmday,  bis  decision  regarding  the 
Louisville  call.  No  one  knew  what  it  would  be  and  anxiety 
sat  upon  the  faces  of  the  congr^ation  as  they  gathered  on 
that  day.  He  preached  the  sermon  but  their  ears  were  waiting 
for  something  else.  When  the  sermon  reached  its  close  be 
Bud,  in  substance: 

"As  you  know,  for  many  weeks  I  have  held  under  anxious 
conraderation  a  call  to  the  pastorate  of  the  Walnut  Street 
Baptist  Church  of  Louisville.  I  have  after  long  and  earnest 
and  prayerful  deliberation  decided  to  decline  the  call." 

The  suspense  was  over  and  the  str^  was  ended.  One  of  the 
members  arose  and  said:  "Brethren  and  sisters;  to  our  grekt 
joy  our  pastor  has  declined  the  flattering  call  from  Louisville 
and  decided  to  remtun  as  our  pastor.  I  think  it  would  be  a 
fitting  thing  for  the  church  and  congregation  assembled  to 
express  now  their  happiness  over  his  deu^on  and  also  their 
purpose  to  sustain  him  in  his  future  work  and  that  we  do  this 
by  extendii^  to  him  our  hand  of  brotherly  greeting." 

Out.  from  the  choir  rang  the  hymn  "Blest  be  the  tie  that 
binds"  and  up  the  usies  poured  the  congr^ation  and  for  a 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


162  THE  CALL  TO  LOUISVILLE 

half  hour  the  people  thronged  about  the  pulpit,  grasping  the 
pastor's  band,  beaming  at  him  thdr  lore  and  mingling  their 
songs,  their  tears  and  their  smiles  in  happy  confusion. 

Not  all  the  men  joined  in  that  ovation  at  the  first.  One 
deacon  held  back  and  many  eyes  were  on  him.  After  awhile, 
he  followed  the  others  and  moved  up  the  aisle  imd  extended 
bis  hand  to  the  pastor.  Thus  the  list  was  made  complete  and 
the  response  was  unanimous. 

"Dr.  Hatcher"  amd  Mrs.  Taylor  after  it  was  all  over  and 
the  congr^ation  was  melting  away  "I  am  going  to  take  Mrs. 
Hatcher  home  in  my  bu^y." 

"Yes;  take  her"  he  rephed  with  a  smile  "she  has  cried  bo 
much  here  this  morning  that  she  is  not  fit  to  walk  along  the 
street." 

He  srait  his  letter  of  declination  to  Deacon  Junius  Caldwell, 
with  whom  he  had  had  the  correspondence  in  connection  with 
the  call,  and  he  inclosed  the  following  personal  letter  to  him: 

"RtCHUOMD,  Jan.  30th,  1881. 
"My  Dbab  Bro.  Junius; 

"Almost  persuaded — but,  after  all  constrained  to  say  that 
I  cannot  come.  I  did  my  best  to  see  my  way  to  Lomsville; 
my  heart  yearned  for  you  and  I  was  ready  to  come,  but  at  the 
last  I  had  to  decline. 

You  and  McFerran  will  despise  me,  I  fear,  but  I  mean  to 
love  you,  both,  all  my  days.  I  cannot  have  the  honor  of  beii^ 
the  pastor  of  Walnut  Street,  but  I  can  love  and  honor  the  church 
as  long  as  my  life  lasts.  Here  is  the  fatal  letter.  It  coat  my 
anguish  to  pen  it,  but  I  had  to  do  it. 

Write  me  a  Hne  saying  that  in  your  warm  eoul  there  is  com- 
pasaon  even  for  me  and  I  will  love  you  better  then  ever.  I 
know  you  can  find  a  better  man  and  that  is  my  consolatitm. 

"Tell  Mrs.  C  that  I  will  ever  cherish  the  memory  of  her 
sisterly  kindness. 

"Hastily  yours, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  CALL  TO  LOUISVILLE  163 

On  the  next  Tuesday  evening  bis  door  bell  rang  and,  to  his 
surprise,  in  came  a  flood  of  people — bis  Grace  Street  members — 
who  wisbed  to  express  tb^r  grateful  joy  to  tbeir  paator  and  his 
wife  over  bia  recent  dedsion  to  remun  with  tbem.  Col.  T.  J. 
Evana  made  a  speech  to  the  pastor  on  behalf  of  the  members, 
in  which  he  said:  "All  over  Vu^inia  men,  women  and  children 
are  delighted  to  know  that  Dr.  Hatcher  will  not  leave  his  native 
state  where  his  influence  is  unsurpassed  by  any  minister  in  the 
denomination  to  which  he  belongs."  The-glad  outburst  on  the 
part  of  his  church  was  to  him  a  bright  omen.  He  felt  that  in 
deciding  agunat  Louisville  he  bad  practically  decided  against 
all  other  fields  and  had  committed  himself  to  Bichmond  for  the 
remunder  of  his  life  and  with  this  conviction  he  took  up  his 
pastoral  duties  with  a  new  and  eager  grasp. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTEE  XV. 
1881. 

HIS  8CNDAY8.      PREACHING.      PUBLIC  FKAYERS. 

His  Sundays  were  his  mountain-top  days.  He  greeted  its 
morning  light  with  a  song  and  bounded  out  of  bed  ea^r  to 
meet  ite  many  tasks.  When  we  children  began  to  scamper  off 
to  Sunday  School  about  nine  o'clock  we  would  generally  leave 
him  walking  up  and  down  the  sitting  room  "studying  his 
sermon"  and,  yet,  calling  out  his  cheery  "good  bye"  to  us  aa  we 
passed  through  the  room,  or  through  the  hall.  Most  fre- 
quently, in  the  open  weather,  we  would  leave  him  walking  on 
the  front  porch  and  as  a  goodly  procession  of  his  Grace  Street 
people  filed  by  his  gate  every  Sunday  morning,  enroute  to 
Sunday  School,  he  had  to  divide  his  time  between  reviewing 
his  sermon  and  bowing  his  "good  morning"  to  his  own  fiock, 
as  well  as  to  nearly  every  other  passer  by.  Each  one  received 
his  greeting  and,  frequently,  some  friendly  word  attached 
thereto.  This  breezy  touch  with  the  people  at  the  gateway  of 
his  Sabbaths  seemed  to  refresh  and  quicken  him.  In  fact, 
folks  were  interesting  to  him  always  and  everywhere.  About 
ten  o'clock  he  would  start  for  the  church;  about  10-25  he  would 
come  into  the  Sunday  School  and  his  entrance  kindled  many 
an  eye.  He  would  usually  come  as  the  entire  school  was  as- 
semblii^  for  its  closing  service  and  his  walk  up  the  Eusle  was 
alow  and  punctuated  with  greetings  and  hand  shakes  along  the 
way.  Faces  would  hght  up  as  different  ones  reached  for  his 
hand  and  received  bis  salutation. 

But  up  stairs  in  the  auditorium; —  Ah,  there  he  stuped 
up<Hi  bis  throne.     There  be  stood  in  the  presence  of  his  pei^le 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


VISITING  PREACHERS  165 

and  of  the  gre&t  oongregstion;  and  his  mommg  audience  waa 
a  ught  to  behold, — radiant,  eager  eyed,  full  of  love  for  tlieir 
pastor. 

He  was  so  real,  so  bereft  of  self  consciousness,  so  devout  and 
so  joyously  worshipful  that  his  spirit  was  conta^ous  and  up- 
lifting, and  he  was  interesting  from  the  moment  he  enterad 
the  pulpit.  The  sight  of  his  congr^atlon  fired  his  heart  and  the 
privilege  of  preaching  was  for  him  a  taste  of  heaven.  His  soul 
hterally  plunged  into  the  service  with  exultant  ri^^ture  and 
reveled  in  ite^  features  of  song  and  prayer,  of  scripture  and 
sermon. 

Richmond  was  a  way-station  between  the  North  and  South, 
and  Grace  Street  was  a  rendevous  for  many  of  Richmond's 
distinguished  travelers.  Oftei  would  he  lay  hold  of  a  visiting 
minister  and  press  him  into  service  for  a  sermon.  He  was  a  very 
sympathetic  Ustener.  I  have  often  seen  his  face  fairly  beam 
with  delight  as  he  sat  on  the  pulpit  intently  listening  to  some 
viMtii^  preacher's  sermons  that  did  not  seem  to  impress  the  con- 
gr^ation  deeply,  but  which  would  find  respondve  chords  in 
his  heart  and  elicit  bis  grateful  appreciation.  I  remember  a 
minister  from  the  West  being  picked  out  of  his  congregation 
one  morning  by  him.  A  stranger  he  was,  but  the  pastor's  eye 
summed  him  up  and  he  decided  that  he  could  safely  cq>en  the 
gates  of  his  pulpit  to  him.  He  preached  and  the  pastor  was 
filled  with  happiness  over  his  sermon.  The  congregation  may, 
or  may  not,  have  felt  the  same  as  he  did.  At  any  rate  nothing 
would  do  for  the  pastor  but  that  the  viator — a  Mr.  Cameron, 
I  think, — should  preach  again  that  evening  and  the  evening 
sermon  put  the  pastor  agun  on  the  hilltops  of  pleasure. 

Dr.  C.  H.  Dodd,  now  of  Germantown,  Fenn,.  who  later  came 
to  be  one  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  dearly  loved  friends,  had  in  his 
church  in  one  of  his  former  pastorates  a  man  who  traveled  into 
the  South  every  winter,  "He  would  always  go  to  bear  Dr. 
Hatcber'when  he  would  stop  in  Richmond"  said  Dr.  Dodd. 
"That  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  important  events  of  liis  Southern 
trip,  and  he  would  always  come  to  me  and  give  me  Dr.  Hatcher's 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


166  HIS  SUNDAY  SERVICES 

sennons  and,  in  this  way,  even  before  I  formed  Dr.  Hatcher's^ 
acquaintance,  I  came  to  know  him  and  to  receive  impresadons 
of  his  greatness."  All  classes  were  represented  in  his  audience. 
There  were  the  poor,  those  of  moderate  income  and  there  were 
also  those  highly  favored,  not  merely  in  worldly  goods,  but 
also  in  intelligence  and  culture.  His  eastern  usle  was  known 
as  the  "literary  aisle,"  Here  sat  Drs.,  A.  B.  Brown,  H.  H. 
Harris,  Col.  Thos.  J.  Evans  and  others.  He  generally  brought 
someone  home  with  him  to  dinner  on  Sundays  and  as  some  of 
the  children  generally  had  guests,  the  Sunday  table  presented 
a  lively  scene  and  the  most  enthusiastic  one  in  the  party  was 
the  gentleman  at  the  foot  of  the  table. 

But  "time's  up"  would  soon  sound  from  his  lips  at  the 
dinner  table,  £uid  off  to  the  Boy's  Meeting  we  would  go.  After 
the  meetings,  he  was  ^ther  hidden  away  in  his  study  for  work 
on  his  night's  sermon, — that  is  after  the  disappearance  from 
the  study  of  the  clump  of  boys  who  usually  followed  him  from 
the  meeting,  or  else,  he  would  jump  in  his  bu^y  and  whip 
up  "Grace"  in  the  direction  of  some  other  church  in  the 
city. 

Sometimes  supper  would  be  picked  up  at  one  of  the  near  by 
homes  of  his  members  and  then  came  the  night  service, — 
not  usually  as  largely  attended  as  that  of  the  momii^,^-aDd 
yet  the  night  service  held  high  rank  in  the  life  of  his  church. 
There  were  so  many  special  occa^ons.  Anniversary  services 
and  the  like,  that  were  held  at  night  that  there  was  not  much 
lowering  of  the  tide  in  these  second  services.  "608  W.  Grace" 
genendly  had  some  droppers  in  on  Sunday  nights  after  church. 
The  girls  could,  as  a  rule,  be  depended  on  to  provide  for  the 
back  parlor  a  chattering  bunch  of  beaux  and  up  stfurs  the  "older 
folks"  came  together;  Dr.  Hatcher  would  settle  into  an 
easy  chair  and  tell  the  others  to  "talk  on"  and  the  genial  chit- 
chat would  ripple  along;  the  visitors  would,  after  a  while, 
disperse  and  the  Sunday  paper  would  be  brought  to  him.  "My 
Sunday  is  over  now"  he  would  say  "and  I  will  read  the  paper." 
Thus  his  Sundays  would  go  trooping  by  and  golden  days  they 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PREACHING  167 

were  for  him  and  for  multitudes  of  others  who  walked  with 
him  in  the  way. 

The  crowning  joy  of  hia  life  waa  preaching.  He  was  so 
grateful  to  God  for  having  chosen  him  to  be  a  preacher  that 
he  s^d:  "I  thank  him  now  and  will  thank  him  when  I  reach 
the  throne  and  will  thank  him  forever  more."  To  the  end  of 
his  days  it  seemed  to  hurt  him  if  a  Sunday  passed  when  he 
could  not  preach. 

He  used  nather  manuscript,  nor  notes,  in  the  pulpit,  He 
was  very  deliberate  in  the  beginiung  and  his  first  sentences 
were  crisp  and  striking.  These  opening  sentences,  so  carefully 
constructed,  were  harbingers  of  good  things  to  come.  Havii^ 
thus  gained  the  ear  of  the  audience  at  the  commencement  he 
would  carry  them  with  him  to  the  end.  His  sermons  generally 
worked  their  way  to  a  climax.  His  own  bouI  seemed  to  grow 
and  climb  with  his  sermon.  It  fed  itself  on  the  bread  of  life 
which  he  was  giving  to  others  and,  when  he  would  come  to  the 
end,  he  would  be  standing  on  the  heights,  and  hia  audience 
would  be  with  him.  "The  Sights  on  which  he  took  his  hearers, 
as  he  started  towards  heaven  in  his  preaching,  seemed  to  me 
Uttle  short  of  translation.  As  I  write  I  hunger  to  hear  him" 
writes  B«v.  J.  V.  Diddnson.  In  the  beginning  of  the  sermon  his 
appeal  was  purely  to  the  intellect  and  his  opening  words  wfere 
given  ample  time  for  grappling  the  minds  of  the  congregation. 
His  voice,  while  often  a  little  husky,  was  so  rich  in  sympathy 
and  character  that  it  immediately  commanded  a  respectful 
hearing.  When  he  would,  in  preaching,  appeal  to  his  audi- 
ence, umng  the  word  "Brethren",  the  word  would  have  in  it 
a  wealth  of  meaning.  When  he  would  arise  in  a  Conven- 
tion and  call  out  "Brother  Mod-e-ra^tor"  the  two  words  would 
roll  out  with  a  certain  melody  and  individuality  that  would 
compel  attention  and  win  a  favorable  hearing.  It  is  not  easy 
to  describe  his  voice,  but  it  seemed  to  say  to  the  listener  that 
if  he  would  only  give  heed  that  it  had  much  that  was  valuable 
to  be  heard.  His  preaching  was  textual.  Instead  of  selecting 
subjects  to  preach  about  he  selected  texts  and  he  gathered  all 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


168  TREATMENT  OF  A  TEXT 

of  the  sennon  out  of  the  text.  What  he  stud  of  Dr.  Jeter's 
preaching  was  true  of  his  own,  viz: —  he  literally  picked  his 
text  to  pieces  and  gave  it  to  the  people.  Regardii^  the  text, 
he  says  to  young  preachers: 

"Do  not  take  it  as  a  thing  to  hang  your  wobbling  and  variant ' 
thoughts  upon.  Do  not  make  a  base  of  it  from  which  yon  can 
sprint  in  every  direction  and  then  dash  back  at  certun  turns 
merely  to  touch  it;  also,  do  not  make  it  a  vase  in  which  to 
stick  the  gaudy  flowers  of  your  rhetoric.  Do  not  preach  on 
your  text  as  if  you  were  trying  to  batter  it  into  the  ground  nor 
about  it  as  if  you  were  besiegii^  it  to  open  its  barred  gateway, 
nor  from  it  as  if  you  were  havii^  a  tai^et  practice  with  the 
text  as  the  bull's  eye  which  you  hope  perchance  sometimes 
to  hit. 

"Quietly  unlock  the  text  and  walk  into  it,  as  into  a  store  room, 
and  get  out  the  best  of  its  contents  and  come  out  with  them  to 
the  people, — something  for  each  one  in  his  season.  Do  that, 
brother,  and  that  will  be  preaching. 

"We  often  hear  one  preacher  ask  another  how  he  treated  a 
certain  text.  That  was  a  very  delicate  question  to  ask  most 
preachers.  .  .  It  is  really  hard  to  treat  a  text  id  a  gen- 
tlemanly way.  It  IB  a  great  temptatiom  to  take  advantage 
of  it.  Often  we  are  more  anxious  to  put  things  into  a  text  than 
to  get  tbii^  out  of  it.  Whenever  a  preacher  gets  to  a  point 
where  he  will  let  a  text  talk  and  he  will  listen  he  is  very  hable 
to  make  a  good  sennon." 

He  would  in  his  preaching  generally  mention  the  var3nng 
views  of  commentators  about  a  passage  and  then  would  give 
bis  own  view  and  I  know  one  boy  who  used  to  Usten  eagerly, 
each  Sunday,  for  these  differ^it  interpretaUons  and  who  would 
always  think  that  the  preacher's  interpretation  was  nearer 
the  mark  than  that  of  any  of  the  others. 

He  was  never  violent  in  his  gestures  and  he  had  a  horror 
of  "ranting"  or  "yelUng"  in  the  pulpit.  There  was  in  his  de- 
livery a  poise  and  self  mastery  that  prevented  such  madness, 
and  yet,  as  his  heart  would  catch  fire  from  his  sermon,  his 
whole  being  would  be  aglow  and  his  voice  would  ring  out  with 
passionate  earnestness.    But  such  outbursts  were  not  spasmodic; 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PREACHING  169 

but  were  usually  the  breaking  of  a  storm  that  had  been 
gatherii^  during  bis  sermon. 

He  rarely  went  ahead  of  his  hearers  in  the  expression  of  his 
emotions.  There  would  be  times,  however,  when  he  would 
set  free  the  fire  that  was  in  Ms  soul,  and  his  words  would  blaze 
with  paaaon.    He  thus  writes: 

"It  is  fatal  to  a  public  speaker's  success  to  be  too  much 
carried  away  with  his  subject.  We  have  known  men  whose 
emotions  were  easily  moved  and  could  not  speak  without  being 
overmastered  by  their  feelings.  It  was  impossible  for  them  to 
command  the  respect  of  an  audience.  ...  It  rarely  adds 
to  his  effectiveness  to  cry  and  yet  there  must  be  about  him 
those  agns  of  restrained  passion  which  make  the  people  feel 
that  if  he  were  to  cry  it  would  be  a  cyclone.  The  world 
reveres  the  man  with  unused  resources. 

"Of  course  times  come  when  all  that  is  in  a  man  must  be  put 
out.  There  are  great  battles  when  reinforcements  must  be 
called  from  every  quarter,  when  the  last  reserve  must  be  thrown 
to  the  front  and  when  the  supreme  struggle  for  the  victory  is  to 
be  made." 

In  picturing  a  preacher  throwing  all  his  reserves  to  the  front 
in  a  final  attack  he  says : 

"Let  his  charmed  soul  be  turned  loose;  let  his  voice  roar 
like  the  cataract,  let  his  nerves  tingle  and  bum  with  contagious 
fire.  Let  all  the  light  of  his  mind  and  heart  break  forth,  let 
his  eyes  ffow  hke  rivers,  let  his  face  be  as  red  as  the  sun  and 
let  him,  like  the  French  Emperor,  call  out  his  Imperial  Guard, 
charge  with  resistless  fury  and  sweep  the  field  with  victory." 

Ofttimes  such  climaxes  in  his  sermons  would  gather  about 
an  illustration;  at  uiy  rate  it  was  rare  that  his  sermon  did  not 
contain  at  some  pivotal  point  in  the  discourse  a  story,  and  usually 
it  was  only  one  and  that  gathered  from  his  own  experience. 
This  page  out  of  his  own  experience  was  generally  the  sermon's 
masterpiece  and  seemed  bom  for  that  particular  occasion. 

He  might  be  hurried  in  the  other  parts  of  the  discourse 
but  never  with  the  story.    There  he  played  the  artist  and  who, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


170  CHARACTER  SERMONS 

that  ever  heard  him  pfunt  those  pictures  would  not  testify 
to  their  beauty  "and  power. 

For  the  stock  anecdotes  be  had  a  horror  and  his  Ups  would 
not  touch  them.  Of  such  anecdotes  he  said,  "They,  like  David, 
have  served  their  generation  and  should  fall  on  sleep."  His 
own  ministry  teemed  with  rich  incidents  and  they  swarmed 
about  him  for  his  use. 

His  character  sermoas  were  his  best.  Dr.  John  A.  Broadus, 
president  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Theolo^cal  Seminary  said 
to  his  class  in  Homiletics,  "Dr.  Hatcher  ought  to  publish  a 
volume  of  his  sermons  on  Bible  characters;  it  would  be  the  most 
unique  thing  in  Senuonology." 

He  could  analyze  a  person  and  could  paint  his  picture  with 
startling  vividness.  The  Bible  characters  lived  before  his  own 
mind  and  in  his  preaching  he  simply  pulled  aside  the  curtain 
that  his  audience  might  see  what  he  saw.  But  he  was  not  so 
much  the  portrait  ptunter  that  stood  off  asldng  his  audience 
to  look  upon  a  picture;  he  was  rather  the  intimate  companion 
that  brought  into  your  presence  one  of  his  friends  and  before 
you  knew  it  you  were  listening  to  that  person  talk. 

"He  would  take  a  Bible  character,  or  scene,  or  miracle  and 
go  to  talking  about  it  just  as  if  it  were  true,"  says  Rev.  J.  E. 
Cook. 

"You  almost  take  off  your  h&t  as  he  introduces  you  to  Martha. 
You  be^  to  scrape  off  the  mud  and  shout  as  you  get  out  of  the 
horrible  pit.  You  will  know  Joseph  the  secret  disciple  the  rest 
of  eternity." 

Dr.  P.  T.  Hale  writes: 

"I  remember  hearing  him  once,  in  Washington  City,  preach 
on  "Martha  of  Bethany".  Years  before,  I  had  visited  the 
town  of  Bethany,  but  I  could  not  then  refJize  that  Martha  and 
Mary  and  Lazarus  bad  ever  been  there,  but  I  saw  them  all 
during  that  wonderful  sermon,  while  Dr.  Hatcher  described 
their  home.  I  could  see  the  eager  face  of  Martha,  as  she  looked 
out  of  the  window,  and  I  saw  Jesus  coming  with  His  disciples 
to  her  home  for  dinner!  I  could  see  the  fluttering  robe  of  the 
Master  as  He  drew  near  the  home  of  these  cherit^ed  friends." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PREACHING  171 

In  his  ch&r&cter  sermonB  he  would  usually  select,  not  the 
^ktire  life  of  the  individual,  but  simply  some  crucial  inddent 
in  his  life.  In  his  notable  sermon  on  Lot  he  chose  the  act  of 
Lot  in  pitching  hia  tent  towards  Sodom  and  his  sermon 
hinged  on  the  words  "towards  Sodom." 

The  text  was  "And  Lot  dwelt  in  the  cities  of  the  plain  and 
pitched  his  tent  towards  Sodom."  It  was  not  in  wicked  Sodom 
that  Lot  moved  with  hia  family— Oh  never!  The  mere  sug- 
gestion of  such  a  move  would  have  been  to  Lot  an  insult.  His 
new  home  was  planted  in  the  "cities  of  the  plain."  "Very  true" 
said  the  preacher  "but  it  was  (otoords  Sodom."  The  climax  came 
in  the  picture  of  the  doom  of  Sodom,  the  piteous  efforts  of 
Lot  to  save  his  family,  the  hasty  flight,  the  burning  city,  the 
tragic  death  of  his  wife  and  his  own  disastrous  end. 

"William  EHdridge  Hatcher,  taken  all  in  all,  easily  stands  in 
the  front  rank  of  J^erican  Baptist  preachers." 

These  words  were  written  in  the  "Chicago  Standard"  by  Rev 
H.  T.  Louthan — but  of  himself  Dr.  Hatcher  wrote: 

"Oh  why  do  not  men  preach.  What  is  the  matter  with  us. 
I  take  up  the  lament  of  Jeter,  one  of  the  greater  men  of  the 
South,  'O  that  I  could  preach;  I  cannot  preach;  I  have  never 
preached;  my  heart  fuls  me  leat  I  quit  the  earth  without  ever 
preaching  a  worthy  sermon.'  " 

His  public  prayers  were  unique.  I  was  always  impressed  with 
the  maim^  in  which  he  used  his  mind  in  Iub  prayers.  Of  course 
they  had  fervor,  because  his  hearty  interest  in  t^e  entire  service, 
the  sennon,  the  hymns,  etc.,  kept  the  fire  burning  in  bis  soul  from 
b^^nning  to  end,  but,  while  his  heart  was  glowii^  with  feeling, 
his  mind  was  equally  active  and  his  prayers  were  vibrant  with 
thought.  He  carried  his  people  and  their  burdens  on  his  briun 
as  well  as  on  his  heart,  and  iiis  public  petitions  were  mental 
atructures.  He  had,  one  morning,  in  his  service  a  distinguished 
vimtor,  Dr.  Henry  G.  Weston,  preandent  of  Crozer  Seminary, 
who,  many  years  afterwards,  wrote  him  r^arding  bis  visit: 

"May  I  tell  you  what  it  was  that  gave  you  such  a  place  in 
my  heart? 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


172  PtJBLIC  PRAYERS 

"Tw&aty  years  or  more  b^  I  spent  a  Sunday  in  Bichmond. 
In  the  morning  service  I  attended  your  church.  I  do  not 
remember  your  text,  or  your  sermon;  ^ut  I  was  greatly  struck 
by  your  prayer.  It  was  a  model  prayer  for  a  pastor  to  offer  as 
he  leads  the  devotions  of  his  church,  I  have  been  accustomed 
to  refer  to  it  as  such.  I  had  heard  of  you  as  the  mo^  infiuential 
pastor  in  Richmond.  That  prayer  explained  to  me  why  you 
held  that  position.  As  a  prayer  in  that  place  and  at  that  time 
it  was  simply  perfect.  ...  In  that  prayer  of  youra  I  saw 
what  kind  of  pastor  you  were,  what  you  were  to  your  people 
and  what  your  people  were  to  you." 

"Yours  gratefully 

"Henry  G.  Weston." 

Ckmoemii^;  diort  prayeis  he  thus  expressed  himself: 

"No,  we  don't  like  that  dther.  Dont  tike  i^at?  We  dont  like 
anybody  to  ask  a  brother  to  offer  a  word  of  prayer.  To  ask  a 
man  to  say  a  hasty  word  to  the  Lord  belittles  prayer.  If  you 
want  a  man  to  offer  a  short  prayer  then  pick  out  a  short-pray^ 
man.  If  the  time  is  limited  excuse  the  long  winded  brother  for 
that  occasicm  or  else  take  your  own  medicine  and  do  the  short 
prayer  yourself.  When  a  brother  asks  us  to  make  a  short 
prayer  we  get  seared  at  once  lest  we  go  beyond  his  nodon 
of  shortness  and  we  feel  that  the  congregation  is  watchii^  us 
to  see  how  long  we  will  take.  It  gets  to  be  a  habit  with  some 
preachers  to  ask  for  brief  prayers  or  'a  word  of  prayer'.  We  do 
not  like  it.  At  the  same  time,  dear  long  winded  suppliants, 
take  not  this  as  a  vindication  of  you." 

He  made  his  Sunday  services  entertuning.  There  was  a 
bouyancy  and  joy  in  the  exercises.    One  of  his  members,  Mr. 

J.  D.  C ,  in  speakii^;  of  the  church  services,  says,  "I 

never  knew  what  he  would  do  or  say  next.  He  kept  me  on  tiie 
lookout  for  what  was  comi:^.    He  was  intensely  interestii^." 

It  was  not  that  he  had  various  schemes  for  attracting  hia 
coi^r^ation;  but  he  was  so  real,  so  free  from  self  consciousness, 
so  fresh  and  spontaneous  in  his  direction  of  the  pubhc  service, 
that  he  naturally  kept  his  audience  awake  and  on  the  qui  vive. 

The   above  named   gentleman   Mr.    C ,   when   he 

began  comii^  to  the  church,  used  to  ait  up  in  the  ^de  gallery, 
at  the  end  just  over  the  pulpit,  and  therefore  at  the  longest 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


INTERESTING  SERVICES  173 

distance  from  the  pulpit.  Dr.  Hatcher  said  to  him  in  his  later 
years,  wh^i  he  had  become  an  active  member  and  was  always 
at  the  front  in  the  services,  "Jim,  I  had  to  preach  you  all 
the  way  down  that  gallery  and  then  down  the  sturs  and  then 
up  the  usle  here  to  the  front,  before  I  could  get  you  where  I 
wanted  you."  He  had  a  habit  while  seated  in  the  pulpit  of 
lettii^  his  eyes  run  over  his  audience  as  if  he  was  gettii^  ac- 
quunted  with  them  individually  and  by  the  time  he  arose  to 
preach  he  knew  pretty  well  whom  he  had  before  him.  Such  a 
peraonal  interest  in  his  people  followed  him  out  of  his  pulpit 
as  well  as  into  it.  To  the  above  mentioned  member  he  jocularly 
said:  "Jim,  you  are  mighty  mean,  but  I  like  you  because  of 
the  man  that  I  think  you  may  become."  He  came  to  cherish 
this  gentleman — now  a  very  useful  layman — and  also  his  wife, 
as  among  his  beloved  friends. 

He  had  scant  patience  with  dulness  in  a  reli^ous  meeting. 
For  example,  one  Sunday  afternoon,  the  latter  part  of  March, 
he  went  over  to  Manchester  to  attend  a  Missionary  meeting. 
Dr.  McDonald  was  expected  to  speak,  but  failed  to  appear. 
"Brother  McDonald  is  not  present"  droned  out  the  churman 
and  a  solemn  disappointment  struck  the  audience.  "I  do  not 
know  why  Brother  McDonald  is  not  present,  but  he  is  not 
here,  and  we  are  all  very  sorry  that  he  is  not  here." 

"Brother  Chiurman"  s^d  Dr.  Hatcher  ridng  in  tus  seat  and 
speaking  with  a  little  fire  in  his  voice,  "I  dedre  to  prefer  charges 
agfunst  Dr.  McDonald  because  of  his  absence  this  afternoon 
and  to  ask  that  he  be  summoned  to  appear  before  the  next 
meeting  of  this  Society  to  show  cause  why  he  should  not  be 
prosecuted  for  failing  to  appear  at  this  meeting.  Let  me  add 
this,  Mr.  Chairman,  and  that  is  that  I  am  willing,  when  the 
the  case  comes  up  before  the  Society,  to  act  as  prosecuting 
attorney." 

The  solenm  crust  of  the  meeting  was  broken,  the  audience 
put  in  good  humor  and  the  current  of  the  meeting  rij^Ied 
along  in  brighter  fashion. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
1882. 

EDITOR  RELIQIOU9  HERALD.       IN  THE  SOCUL  CIRCLE. 
THE  CARAVAN.      THE  BAPTI3Ta. 

He  went,  during  the  Summer,  out  among  the  mountains 
of  Southweat  '^i^pnia  and,  amoi^  other  things,  he  spoke  on 
Education  at  the  Lebanon  Afisociation.  Out  in  the  crowd  that 
day  was  a  boy  who,  many  years  afterwards,  thua  wrote  in  the 
Herald  regarding  that  Association; 

"Dr.  Hatcher  made  a  speech  about  Richmond  College  that 
awakened  in  me  a  demre  and  purpose  to  go  to  that  institution.  ■ 
Ah  that  time  I  was  not  prepared  to  enter  College  and  there 
were  no  apparent  means  for  carrying  out  my  purpose.  .  .The 
impression  of  that  speech  and  thelon^g  it  awakened  never 
left  me  for  a  day." 

The  result  was  that  the  boy  found  his  way  to  Richmond 
College.  "Soon  after  my  arrival  at  Richmond  College"  he 
writes  "I  met  the  man  who  had  inspired  the  ambition  which 
had  brought  me  there." 

This  youth,  H.  W.  Williams,  now  an  honored  Baptist  pastor 
in  one  of  the  Southern  states,  has  already  been  mentjoned  in 
these  pages  in  connection  with  Dr.  Hateher's  croquet  playing 
at  the  College. 

He  received,  in  November,  a  call  lo  the  pastorate  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church  of  Greenville  S.  C.  In  fact  in  the  following 
years  of  his  life  he  rec^ved  many  calls  to  attractive  portions, 
but  Richmond]|,held  him  fast.  Eajly  in  1882  he  received  an 
invitation  that  opened  to  him  a  wide  door  of  opportunity.  He 
174 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  RELIGIOUS  HERALD  175 

was  asked  to  become  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Religious  Herald, 
the  Baptist  state  paper  of  Virginia.  The  prospect  attracted 
him  and  when  at  his  church  meeting  he  asked  the  consent  of 
his  church  to  his  undertaking  this  extra  work  he  sud: 

"I  am  now  forty  eight  years  of  age;  I  mourn  to  think  that 
so  much  of  my  life  has  passed  and  that  so  little  has  been 
accomplished.  I  know  not  how  much  of  my  life  remans,  but 
I  do  have  an  overmastering  desire  to  put  into  these  remaining 
years  as  much  service  for  my  Master  as  possible." 

I  remonber  nothing  else  he  s^d  that  night  about  the  Herald 
work  except  the  above  paragraph,  which  startled  me  at  the 
time  by  the  manner  in  which  it  was  said.  I  went  home  from  the 
meeting  saying  to  myself,  "My  father  is  surely  anxious  to 
hurry  up  and  get  in  all  the  work  he  possibly  can  before  he  dies." 

The  circle  of  his  influence  was  now  greatly  widened  and  there 
were  hundreds  and  probably  thousands  who  watched  eagerly 
for  his  writings  week  by  week. 

"A  more  facile  pen,  or  a  more  fertile  brain  than  his  we  do  not 
know  among  our  Southern  Baptist  preachers,"  said  the  Bap- 
tist Courier  in  speaking  of  him.  It  also  added  "If  there  is  a 
more  racy  and  more  piquant  religious  editor  we  have  not  yet 
made  his  acquaintance." 

He  aimed  to  spend  sometime  at  the  Herald  office  every  day. 
This  office  was,  to  a  certain  extent,  Baptist  headquarters  for 
Richmond  and  here,  day  by  day,  he  was  brought  in  touch  with 
Baptists  from  different  parts  of  the  country;  all  mamier  of 
subjects  and  questions  were  fired  at  him  for  his  columns.  For 
example  one  lady  sent  the  request,  "Ask  Dr.  Hatoher  if  he 
would  advise  me  to  send  my  children  to  a  dancii^  school." 
He  published  the  question  and  added  his  reply,  which  was  as 
follows: 

"Well  sister,  that  depends  on  several  things.  If  your  mtun 
idea  is  to  fit  them  for  worldly  pleasure  and  inake  them  popular 
with  fashionable  people,  we  would  think  it  dearable  for  you  to 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


176    RESIGNATION  OF  DR.  MCDONALD 

have  them  t&ught  dancii^.  They  would  feel  very  awkward  in 
Bucb  society  unless  their  feet  had  been  properly  educated. 
Then,  it  may  be  that  you  would  find  it  easier  to  educate  the 
heels  than  the  heads  of  your  children.  Besides,  if  you  would 
have  them  truned  to  dance  and  then  they  should  become  fond 
of  it,  as  they  probably  would,  you  would  find  that  it  would  be  a 
great  advantage  in  the  way  of  preventing  them  from  b^i^ 
troubled  in  mind  on  the  subject  of  reli^on. 

"But,  poBMbly  you  might  some  day  wish  to  have  them  become 
christianB  and  join  the  church.  If  you  think  you  would  ever  feel 
this  way  about  it  then  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  we  beg  you  Dot 
to  put  them  into  the  hands  of  some  empty  headed  dancing 
master.  A  dancing  Baptist  is  a  burden  to  the  church  and  a 
grief  to  the  pastor  and  rarely  helps  the  cause  except  by  waltzing 
back  into  the  world." 

He  suffered  a  stunnii^  blow  in  the  redgnation  Of  Dr.  Henry 
McDonald  and  his  removal  from  Kichmond.  Like  twin  souls 
they  had  been  linked  in  royal  fellowship  for  several  years.  There 
seemed  to  be  love  in  his  very  pronunciation  of  the  word, 
"M-«.-D-o-n-a-l-d"  The  cares  and  ills  of  earth  might  crowd 
their  path  but  they  would  fling  them  to  the  winds  and  revel  in 
each  other's  company.  To  take  'McDonald'  in  bis  buggy  for 
a  ride  into  the  country,  on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  was  medicine, 
and  a  feast.  What  cared  tbey  for  the  world's  rude  shocks  as 
they  turned  "Grace's"  head  towards  Manchester  and  Chester- 
field, cracked  the  whip  and  went  spinning  across  the  James 
river  bridge  and — as  they  went — telling  out  thar  bothers,  re- 
counting their  joys,  their  plans  and  their  hopes  for  this  life, — 
and  sometimes  for  the  life  to  come.  "His  departure  is  bitterness 
to  me"  he  writes  "for  it  tears  me  asunder  from  one  who  for 
years  has  been  the  keeper  of  my  soul's  secrets  and  my  counselor" 
Be  it  remembered  that  in  addition  to  bis  pastored,  editorial 
and  general  Denominational  work  in  Richmond  he  was  con- 
stantly "on  the  run"  in  Virginia  and  often  in  other  states. 
Nearly  every  Sunmier  he  supplied  churches  in  New  York.  It 
was  at  this  time  that  he  spoke  at  the  Social  Union  in  New  York 
and  preached  in  Brooklyn. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


POPULARITY  IN  THE  NORTH        177 

A  New  York  writer,  in  the  National  Baptist,  says: 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  of  Richmond,  is  the  new  sensation.  He  came 
unheralded  and,  at  our  Social  Union,  made  a  charming  speech 
full  of  facte,  good  sense  and  mother  ^t.     He  preached  in 

Brooklyn and  since  then  several  of  our  strongest 

churches  are  ef^er  to  secure  him  as  a  supply." 

He  took  part  in  an  important  discussion  at  the  Southern 
Baptist  Convention  in  Greenville  in  May.  There  was  a  contest 
between  the  cities  of  Marion  and  Atlanta  and  the  question  at 
issue  was  as  to  whether  the  Home  Mission  Board  should  be 
moved  from  Marion  to  Atlanta.  Dr.  Hatcher  favored  Atlanta 
and  in  his  speech  he  said  "Marion  may  be  a  good  place  to  raise 
children  in  but  if  the  Home  Mission  Board  proposes  to  do  bud- 
ness  for  the  Lord  it  ought  to  be  moved  to  a  city  like  Atlanta." 

"There  were  other  speeches  on  both  rades"  says  Dr.  E.  E. 
Folk,  "but  I  think  that  the  speech  of  Dr.  Hatcher,  more  than 
that  of  any  other  one,  determined  the  large  majority  by  which 
the  Convention  voted  to  move  the  Bcuird  from  Marion  to 
Atlanta." 

In  the  social  circle  he  was  usually  the  central  figure.  "Noth- 
ing ^tasperates  people  more"Baid  Dr.  Johnson  "than  superior 
brilliancy  of  one  in  conversation.  They  seem  pleased  at  the 
time,  but  th^r  envy  makee  them  curse  him  in  their  hearts." 
That  was  true  in  Dr.  Johnson's  literary  circle  where  he  roared 
like  a  lion  and  ruled  Uke  a  kii^.  Goldsmith,  Garrick  and  the 
others  in  that  famous  coterie  acknowledged  the  brilliant  sway 
of  the  old  Philosopher  but  he  knew  full  well  what  it  meant  for 
some  of  them  to  applaud  him  in  his  dashes  of  wit  and  curse 
him  afterwards  in  their  envy.  But  on  the  other  hand  Oliver 
Wmdell  Holmes  was  the  charm  of  the  social  circle  as  well  as  its 
shinii^  centre. 

Dr.  Hatcher  was  an  illustration  of  the  fact  that  one  could  be 
a  favcnite  in  a  social  group  and  a  beloved  companion  at  the 
same  time.    He  did  not  seek  prominence  when  thrown  with 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


178  IN  THE  SOCIAL  CIRCLE 

others,  but  there  was  in  him  a  sunny  dispodtion  and  a  jovial 
spirit,  and  his  conversation  had  such  an  ori^ality  and  sparkle 
in  it  that  the  members  of  the  circle  generally  found  themselves 
Uatening  when  he  spoke.  "The  art  of  talldng"  says  Dr.  Holmes 
"is  one  of  the  fine  arts, — ^the  noblest,  the  most  important  and 
the  most  difficult."  It  was  rare  that  Dr.  Hatcher  talked  sinyily 
to  be  interesting  and  he  did  not  give  the  impresmon  of  aiming  at 
effect.  "Those  were  feasting  hours  for  me"  said  a  young 
preacher  referring  to  certain  times  when  he  sat  in  a  social  group 
in  a  home  in  which  Dr.  Hatcher  was  visiting. 

Dr.  M.  B.  Wharton  refers  to  conversations  that  several  of 
us  enjoyed  in  his  room  in  Norfolk  with  Dr.  Hatcher  as  one  of 
the  group. 

"O  what  a  time  we  hadi  He  was  the  autocrat  and  we  listened, 
we  laughed,  sometimes  we  yelled.  It  was  good  for  the  health 
of  all;  more  beneficial  in  its  results  than  a  Summer  vacation, 
if  it  could  only  have  been  kept  up  long  enough.  We  were  so 
sorry  when  he  had  to  leave.  Going  about  my  work  I  have 
frequently  yet  to  stop  and  laugh  at  his  jokes  and  the  way  he 
told  them.  I  want  him  to  write  a  book  of  his  experiences.  It 
would  be  the  best  selling  book  I  know  of.  He  has  a  v^  of 
humor  sfi  rich  as  it  is  rare." 

Notwithstandii^  the  remark  of  Mr.  Humphrey  Wagstaff 
that  the  life  of  man  is  too  short  for  a  story  teller,  Dr.  Hatcher 
would  often  tell  a  story,  but, — mark  it  well  reader — it  was  not 
the  threadbare  tale,  nor  the  stock  anecdote,  nor  was  he  fike 
those  conversationalists  which  Collins  says  remind  him  of 
band  organs;^"Wehave  heard  all  their  tunes."  His  stories  were 
nearly  always  plucked  fresh  from  his  own  experience  and  it 
was  in  telling  them  that  he  played  the  artist.  His  stories  were 
pictures  with  as  few  strokes  as  posnble.  He  frequently  criti- 
dsed  certwn  conversationaUsts  for  th«r  tedious  drawing  out 
of  thdr  illustrations  and  for  allowing  their  listeners  to  antici- 
pate them. 

It  is  in  conversation,  more  than  in  public  addresses,  that  the 
real  man  is  seen.    That  indefinable  something,  which  we  call 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


IN  THE  SOCIAL  CIRCLE  179 

magnetism,  belonged  to  Dr.  Hatcher  and  it  made  men  draw 
their  chairs  around  his  close  enough  to  hear  when  he  began  to 
talk.  But  he  was  also  a  good  listener.  I  remember  going  with 
hJT"  one  evening  during  his  later  life  into  a  home  with  several 
invited  guests  and  where  the  parents  had  told  their  son  that 
Dr.  Hatcher  waa  one  of  the  great  conversationalists  of  the  day 
and  that  a  rich  treat  was  in  store  for  him.  Among  the  guests 
were  two  much  youi^er  preachers,  who  held  the  center  of  the 
stage  durii^  most  of  the  evenii^,  keeping  up  an  animated 
colloquy,  while  Dr.  Hatcher  gave  quiet  attention  with  only 
ocoaaon  incuiaona  into  the  conversation. 

A  brilliant  conversationaUst  is  difficult  to  find.  "With  thee 
converdii^,  1  forget  all  time"  says  Milton,  and  Longfellow 
declares  "a  ongle  conversation  across  the  table  with  a  wise 
man  is  better  than  ten  years  of  study  of  books." 

Dr.  Hatcher  by  his  patJent  drill  had  guned  such  a  mastery 
of  words  that,  not  only  in  public  addresses  and  in  literary  pro- 
ductions, but  in  ordinary  conversation  he  tised  words  that  clung 
to  the  memory.  I  Iiave  been  startled  rince  his  death  by  the 
number  of  people  who  remember  things  he  sfud  in  casual  talks 
with  them.  Whenever  at  this  day  I  meet  one  who  be^ns  to 
speak  of  him  it  seems  that  nearly  always  the  person  says  "I  re- 
member that  the  first  time  I  ever  met  Dr.  Hatcher  he  s^d' ' — and 
then  follows  some  remark  of  his  that  had  so  impressed  the  hearer 
at  the  time  by  it«  brightness,  or  good  sense,  or  humor,  or  quaint- 
ness,  that  it  liad  stuck  fast  io  his  mind. 

A  simple  and  recent  illustration  of  this  may  here  be  men- 
tioned: At  a  dining  a  few  days  ago  a  lady,  to  whom  I  had 
been  mtroduced,  said:  "The  first  time  I  met  Dr.  Hatcher,  he 
asked  me  if  I  was  married,  and  when  I  told  him  'No,'  he  said, 
'Well,  there  is  some  blockhead  walkii^  around  over  the  earth.'  " 

Concerning  Edmund  Byrke  Dr.  Johnson  swd  that  no  man  of 
sense  could  meet  him  under  a  gateway  to  avoid  a  shower  without 
being  convinced  that  he  was  the  very  first  man  of  En^and. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


180  THE  CARAVAN 

"If  he  should  go  into  a  etAble  and  talk  a  few  minutes  with  the 
hostlers  about  horsea  they  would  say,  'We  have  had  an  extra- 
ordinary man  here."  "Goldsmith  wrote  like  an  angel  and 
talked  like  poor  Poll."  Dr.  Johnson  waa  such  a  belligerent 
talker  that  he  brooked  no  rival;  "if  his  pistol  missed  fire  he 
knocked  down  hia  antagonist  with  the  butt  of  it."  Old  Thomas 
Carlyle,  as  a  conversationalist,  was  built  very  much  on  the 
same  pattern.  He  would  not  only  object  and  question  and 
contradict,  but,  ofttimes,  with  his  loud  tones  and  vehement 
maouer,  would  bear  down  all  opposition  before  him. 

During  the  next  Summer  Dr.  Hatcher  gathered  a  party  of 
Baptist  preachers  and  laymen  for  a  journey  by  private  con- 
veyance across  the  mountains  into  Southwest  Vir^nia  to  a 
remote  sectJon,  where  the  Baptists  were  scattered  and  weak. 
He  styled  the  party  "The  Caravan"  and  they  went  to  attend 
the  New  Lebanon  Association.  "The  Caravan"  swd  he.  .  . 
"moved  out  of  Glade  Spring  on  the  morning  of  the  23rd  of 
Ai^ust  and  turned  its  face  towards  the  far  away  bills  of  Russell" 

A  jovial  party  it  was  as  it  jolted  and  laughed  its  way  over  the 
mountains,  and  their  happy  chats  and  swelling  music  b^ht- 
ened  the  ride  and  left  their  echoes  in  the  vales.  At  one  o'clock 
the  horses  were  reined  in  and  the  travelers  alighted  in  a  grove 
of  sugar  maples. 

"A  kind  old  bachelor  farmer,  Mr.  Robert  Cummings,  had 
compas^on  on  the  jaded  travelers"  swd  Dr.  Hatcher  "and 
brought  out  chairs,  glasses  and  milk  and  there  on  the  shaded 
lawn  we  had  a  happy  picnic." 

The  moat  interesting  aght  to  him,  however,  waa  the  old 
man  himself, — living  alone  there  in  the  mountains.  He  en- 
gaged him  in  conversation,  thereby  bringing  out  the  fact  that 
he  was  unmarried.  "Wifeless  and  alone,  the  dear  old  man  was" 
said  Dr.  Hatcher  "and  the  bare  su^estion  of  matrimony 
crimsoned  his  cheek  with  blushes,  but  the  memory  of  hia  hand- 
some treatment  of  the  Caravan  will  henceforth  seal  my  lips, 
when  I  am  tempted  to  cut  at  the  crustmess  of  old  bachelors, 
Ae  the  golden  tints  of  the  setting  sun  were  dying  into  early 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  NEW  LEBANON  181 

twilight  the  Caravan  swept  down  the  long  rocky  hills  and  found 
itself  in  Lebanon." 

This  visit  of  the  "Brethren  from  the  East"  at  the  New 
Lebanon  marked  an  epoch  with  the  httle  mountain  Association. 
Happy  hours  of  fellowship  were  spent,  sermons  and  addresses 
delivered  by  these  brethren  and  a  warm  invitation  ext^ided  to 
the  New  Lebanon  brethren  to  come  to  the  General  Association 
in  BJchmond  on  the  next  November  and  be  the  guests  of 
the  BJchmond  Baptists.  But  this  was  not  all.  Aa  the  salaries 
of  the  pastors  in  that  mountain  section  were  wofully  meager, 
arrangements  were  made  for  paying  their  expenses  to  the 
Richmond  Convention  on  the  next  Fall.  Dr  Hatcher  wrote 
in  the  Herald  regarding  the  Association: 

"The  Metropolis  [Richmond]  may  look  for  a  stalwart  dele- 
gation from  the  New  Lebanon  and  I  now  bespeak  for  them 
entertainment  as  cordial  and  cheerful  as  that  which  they  have 
so  nobly  extended  to  the  brethren  from  the  East.  The  New 
Lebanon  Caravan  must  have  good  quarters  when  it  reaches 
Richmond." 

He  was  in  his  element  in  that  moimtfun  Association  as  he 
was  seeking  to  make  the  visit  of  the  Caravan  cheering  and 
helpful  to  the  New  Lebanon  brethren.  Dr.  C,  L.  Cocke  wrote 
that  Dr.  Hatcher's  sermons  and  addresses  "excited  great  en- 
thu^asm."  He  sought  to  strengthen  the  tie  between  the  Bap- 
tists of  the  Southwest  and  those  of  the  other  section  of  the 
state  and  in  this  hope  he  was  not  disappointed.  This  desire  to 
brii^  the  Baptists  of  different  sections  to  know  and  love  each 
other  better  showed  itself  also  in  his  attitude  towards  Ma  north- 
ern Baptists  brethren.  It  has  already  been  told  in  these  pages  how 
quick  he  was  to  extend  the  hand  of  Christian  fellowship  to  his 
Northern  brethren  after  the  Civil  War,  with  all  its  bitterness,  had 
closed.  Often  in  his  home  he  would  extend  warm-hearted 
hospitality  to  northern  visitors  in  Richmond.  On  one  oc- 
casion— ^it  roust  have  been  a  few  years  before  this  time — a 
large  New  England  Baptist  Excuraon  was  run  into  the  South.  , 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


182  THE  BAPTISTS 

They  stopped  over  in  Richmond  and  were  givm  a  wdoome 
service  at  the  First  Baptist  Church.  The  front  seata  in  the 
church  were  reserved  for  the  visitors,  in  number  between  sevaify- 
five  and  one  himdred.  A  wonderfully  cordial  greeting  was 
accorded  to  the  visitors  who  expressed  their  grateful  delight 
but  probably  the  most  striking  picture  m  the  sc^ie  was  that 
of  Dr.  Hatcher  standing  on  the  lower  platform  after  one  of  the 
Northern  brethren  had  expressed  his  amasement  and  pleasure 
at  the  christian  welcome  which  they  were  receiving.  Dr. 
Hatcher  lifted  his  hand  in  emphatic  gesture  saying  to  the  New 
England  brethren  in  front  of  him :  "If  you  are  surprised  at  this 
demonstration  of  christian  love  tor  you,  our  brethren  of  the 
North,  let  me  say  to  you  that  there  is  not  a  section  of  Virginia 
where  you  could  not  be  given  a  amilar  expresson  of  frater- 
nity." 

One  fact  that  kindled  his  interest  in  the  people  at  that  as- 
sociation in  Southwest  Virginia  was  that  they  were  Baptiste. 
It  is  very  true  that  he  joined  forces  with  every  Protestant  de- 
nomination and  huled  their  members  as  his  brethren  in  Christ. 
But  for  his  Baptist  people, — especially  if  they  were  isolated  and 
beset  by  hardships  and  condemned  to  severe  struggling, — he 
had  a  special  place  in  Ms  heart.    - 

"One  thing  we  may  be  sure  of"  he  once  said  "the  future  will 
be  peopled  with  Baptists.  If  the  enginery  of  the  past  has  failed 
to  exterminate  the  Baptists  in  their  weakness,  now  that  they 
are  a  great  host  and  the  old  enginery  is  out  of  order,  their 
worst  enemies  can  hardly  expect  their  extermination. 

"Baptists  are  bound  to  live;  they  are  on  the  programme  of 
the  ages  and  must  be  on  hand  to  answer.  The  fact  is  they 
have  a  large  contract  on  hand. — unfinished  business — and  they 
must  stay  over  and  attend  to  it. 

With  such  an  ambition  about  his  denomination  he  put  honor 
everwhere  upon  his  Baptist  brethren.  These  country  Baptists 
touched  his  heart, — especially  their  old  preachers.  He  paid 
them,  at  this  time,  a  loving  tribute,  in  the  Herald,  beginning 
with  the  words: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  OLD  PREACHERS  183 

"The  plain  old  preacher  ia  always  seen  at  the  District  Asso- 
ciation." 

After  writing  in  kindly  fashion  about  the  old  man,  he  thus 
continues: 

"In  a  few  fleetii^  years  his  Redeemer  will  take  him  home. 
Do  not  tread  on  him,  nor  push  him  coldly  aside.  When  he 
oomes  give  him  the  best  seat;  hear  him  with  the  best  attention 
and  sladden  hia  old  age  with  every  possible  deed  of  brightnesa 
and  love." 

At  one  of  the  Associations  this  Summer,  the  followii^  ind- 
dent  as  told  by  him  occured: 

"The  other  day  we  heard  the  plEun  old  man  make  a  speech 
at  his  Association.  It  was  a  ru^ed,  noisy,  stormy  speech, — 
but  it  was  the  best  the  dear  old  saint  could  do.  It  had  the 
one  sanctifying  merit  of  thorough  earnestness.  We  confess  fre 
were  touched  by  the  spell  of  his  power  and  forgot  the  blemishes 
that  so  palpably  marked  his  effort.  By  accident  our  eye  fell 
on  a  young  man, — a  prim  and  starched  Collegian, — who  has  it 
in  mind  to  be  a  minister  and  we  were  wounded  to  find  him  in  a 
convulsion  of  merriment  and  laughter.  He  saw  nothii^  in  the 
old  brother's  tender  and  earnest  manner  to  attract  and  move 
him." 

This  paragraph  in  the  Herald  had  a  curious  sequel  several 
month  afterwards.  One  day  a  young  preacher  approached 
him  and  said  in  a  somewhat  angry  tone: 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  you  wrote  something  against  me  in  the 
Herald  wMch  I  felt  was  a  personal  attack  on  me." 

"Do  tell  me  what  it  was,  my  young  brother." 

"That  article  you  wrote  about  the  young  minister  whom  you 
saw  laughing  at  the  speech  which  an  old  preacher  was  making." 

"Well,  did  you  laugh  at  the  old  preacher?" 

"Yes,  I  did,  but  I  meant  no  harm  by  it;  and  beudes  I  do 
not  think  you  ought  to  have  made  a  public  example  of  me  m  that 
way." 

After  telling  of  the  above  conversation,  Dr.  Hatcher  thus 
concluded,  "We  had  only  to  say  to  the  angry  Collegian  that 
he  was  not  the  man  to  whom  we  referred." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


184  DYING  AS  A  BEAST 

He  loved  young  preachers  but  to  the  old  he  extended  tever- 
eutial  aad  affectionate  treatment.  If  the  roll  could  be  called 
of  the  old  preachers  in  Virginia  who  were  brought  in  touch  with 
him  during  their  later  years,  I  believe  their  testimony  would  be 
unanimous  that  in  William  E.  Hatcher  they  found  a  kindly  and 
filial  consideration  that  made  them  often  lean  upon  him  and 
that  always  made  him  a  welcome  visitor  for  them  in  Asaocia- 
tional  gatherings,  in  their  home  circles,  or  wherever  they  might 
meet. 

One  day,  during  the  Summer  while  riding  on  the  cars,  "a 
hard  cold  faced  man,  with  a  cuttii^,  bitter  voice"  came  across 
the  car  and  sat  down  by  him  and  drew  him  into  a  chat.  He  was 
always  glad  of  a  neighborly  conversation,  while  traveling  on 
the  trfun,  but  the  look  and  manner  of  this  man  repelled  him. 

"I  have  lived  on  four  continents, "sud  he,  with  an  fur  of 
bravado  "and  I  have  seen  the  world  on  every  side  and  I  have 
found  that  there  is  no  honor  among  men  and  no  virtue  among 
women." 

"May  I  ask  what  is  your  reU^ous  belief?"  ventured  Dr. 
Hatcher. 

"I  believe  that  the  Bible  is  a  fraud  and  that  there  is  nothing 
beyond  the  grave." 

"Do  you  expect.to  perish  at  death  as  a  common  beast?" 

"Yea." 

"Ah  well"  replied  Dr.  Hatcher  "If  you  expect  to  die  as  a 
beast,  I  cannot  find  fault  if  you  live  as  a  beast  and  if  you  think 
men  and  women  are  as  soulless  as  a  brute  I  cannot  see  why  you 
should  ever  have  supposed  that  there  could  be  any  honor 
among  menor  virtue  in  women." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XVII 
1882-1883. 

PASTORAL  TiaiTS  AND  PASTOHAL  EXPERIENCES.      TRIP  TO  TEXAS 
AND  MEXICO.      DEATB  OP  THE  TWIN3.      THE  CABAVAN. 

Oq  his  retum,  each  Fall,  from  his  Summer  rovings  he  seemed 
to  leap  to  his  pastoral  tasks  with  a  new  enthusiaBm.  "Capital 
days  are  these  for  pastoral  visiting"  he  writes  on  Oct.  5th.  "It 
is  indeed  a  luxury  to  be  abroad  in  this  bracing  Autumnal  air." 
He  ^ves  in  another  place  a  breezy  sketch  of  scmie  of  bis  trials 
'  in  pastoral  visiting : 

"We  know  what  it  is  to  bang  and  rattle  and  wut  at  the  front 
door  and  after  so  long  a  time  ta  have  the  woman  open  the  door 
and  say  with  a  light  laugh  that  she  heard  the  noise  but  thought 
it  was  Carlos  which  is  one  of  the  smartest  dogs  in  the  world 
trying  to  get  in  to  the  house.  We  know  what  it  is  to  stand  at 
the  front  gate  with  a  big-tooth  old  growler  on  the  inade  and 
the  woman  cry  out  from  the  second  story  window,  'Why  dont 
you  come  in.  I  hardly  think  the  dog  will  bite.'  We  know  what 
it  is  to  come  into  the  parlor  and  have  a  little  black  terrier  get 
under  our  chair,  bark  and  nibble  at  our  calves  while  the  woman 
of  the  house  says,  'Why,  Tip;  why  dont  you  stop,  you  are  real 
bad  today.'  AU  this  and  more  of  hardship  and  cruelty  we  have 
borne  in  the  discharge  of  pastoral  duty  and  we  are  willing  to 
stand  the  ills  which  the  future  may  bring,  but  there  is  one  depth 
of  degradation  to  which  we  will  not  go.  Women  may  have 
their  pet  dogs  if  they  will.  They  may  bring  them  into  the 
parlor  and  we  will  be  silent.  They  may  hold  them  in  their 
laps  and  hug  and  kiss  them  as  they  choose  and  we  will  be  quiet. 
They  may  take  their  canine  darlmgs  with  them  on  the  streets 
and  even  to  church  and  we  will  be  tranquil  and  sober.  But 
we  draw  the  line  deep  and  sharp  on  pet  dogs.  We  will  not 
186 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


186  DR.  W.  W.  LANDRUM 

descend  to  the  depths  of  c&joUng  and  careesiug  a  pet  dog.  On 
that  point  we  are  fixed.  Pet  doge  are  epoiled,  conc^twl  and 
ever  prone  to  excessive  self  assertion.  They  look  upon  human 
people  as  creatures  deagned  to  wait  upon  and  provide  for 
them.  They  always  think  they  are  superior  to  their  own  and 
some  serious  persons  declare  that  in  exceptional  cases  they  have 
a  good  ground  for  thinking  so.  We  will  pet  children,  admire 
new  houses  and  new  furniture  and  rave  appropriately  over 
pictures  and  flowers.  We  will  hear  the  oldest  daughter  play  all 
of  her  exerdses  on  the  piano  and  hsten  to  young  John  repeat 
his  pretty  httle  speech  which  his  m^den  aunt  taught  him.  We 
will  at  the  risk  of  dyspepsia  eat  the  jelly,  taste  the  fruit  cake 
and  stfun  our  fingers  with  home  made  candy.  Indeed  we  are 
io  for  the  war  and  are  willing  to  go  as  far  as  the  next  man  in 
making  it  bright  and  agreeable  to  the  fastidious  and  exacting 
siiintB  of  the  earth,  but  there  is  a  limit  at  which  we  put  our 
foot  down  and  defy  all  of  the  dog  worshippers  of  the  earth  to 
shake  ua.  Be  it  known  that  when  the  Lord  called  ua  to  preach 
he  did  not  mention  the  petting  of  pet  dogs  as  one  of  our  official 
duties." 

A  new  friend  came  into  his  life  at  this  time, — Dr.  W.  W. 
Landrum — who  became  Dr.  McDonald's  successor  at  the 
Second  Baptist  Church. 

A  Welcome  Service  was  ^ven  Dr.  Landrum,  at  which  Dr. 
Hatcher  deUvered  an  address  to  the  new  pastor,  which  was  not 
only  published  but  awakened  con^derable  comment.  "On  hear- 
ing it,"  said  Dr.  Landrum,  "I  determined  to  accep  tit  and  live 
by  it.  .  .  It  ought  to  have  been  published  in  a  book.  "The 
address  began  with  the  words: 

"In  coming  from  Ai^usta  to  Richmond  you  have  changed 
your  field,  but  not  your  work." 

He  closed  as  follows: 

"You  must  pardon  me  for  saying  that  it  is  with  something 
of  sadness  that  I  see  you  take  the  place  held  for  five  years  by  my 
ever  cherished  and  beloved  McDonald.  What  a  blessed  and 
helpful  friend  he  was  to  me.  My  soul  has  wept  tears  of  blood 
at  his  going  from  me  and  I  have  not  been  able  to  pass  this 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  SOCUL  ELEMENT  187 

church  once  he  went  -without  finding  a  cloud  of  sorrow  gathering 
over  my  heart.  But,  my  brother,  I  open  my  arms  to  you  and 
BO  far  as  I  can  I  am  ready  to  help  you." 

His  speaking  engagementa  were  varied.  A  Convention  at 
this  time  secured  him  for  a  twenty  minutes  speech.  The 
president  announced:  "We  will  now  have  an  address  by  Dr.  W. 
E.  Hatcher,  on  The  social  element  in  Christianity.' " 

Coming  to  the  front.  Dr.  Hatcher  began : 

"Mirabile  DictuI  What  a  colossal  theme!  I  have  the  social 
element  in  me,  but  I  cannot  prove  it  by  becoming  familiar 
with  this  far-epreading  topic  within  the  fleeting  period  of 
twenty  minutes  and  I  most  meekly  implore  our  grave  president 
not  to  dock  me  for  the  time  already  spent  in  annoimcing  what 
I  am  to  talk  about.  I  must  commit  my  frail  bark  to  the  un- 
rertain  seas,  bidding  adieu  to  illustrations  and  punctuation 
marks,  steering  straight  for  the  main  point  and  not  knowing 
what  moment  I  may  fall  beneath  the  blow  of  imfriendly  fate." 

Regarding  the  social  element  he  said:  "It  is  in  Christianity, 
but  it  is  not  ChriBtianity.  The  Social  element  is  the  servant 
of  the  King.  It  is  the  porter-girl  who  serves  at  the  gato.  She 
may  deck  herself  in  bright  adorning  and  serve  wi£  winning 
courtesiee,  but  we  must  see  that  strangers  do  not  come  to  court 
the  maid  rather  than  honor  the  king." 

In  February  he  spoke  at  the  Baptist  Congress  in  Lynchburg 
and  made  an  amunng  comment  on  a  speech  by  Dr.  J.  W.  M. 

W a  who  had  said  that  preachers  ought  to  put  more 

variety  in  their  order  of  exenuses  in  thwr  Sunday  services 
and  by  such  changes  in  the  programmee  fool  the  devil.  Dr. 
Hateher,  after  remarking  that  a  good  nap  in  church  was  better 
than  beii^  kept  awake  by  the  jiggling  antice  of  a  sensational 
preacher  then  took  up  the  Doctor's  sugxestion  about  outwit- 
ting the  devil  and  said  that  while  there  were  many  hard  things  , 
that  might  be  siud  against  His  Satanic  Majesty,  yet  th^  surely 
must  admit  one  thing  and  that  was  that  the  devil  was  no  fool. 
The  manner  in  which  he  made  this  last  remark  brought  down 
the  house. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


18«  THE  WRONG  TROUSERS 

A  new  auit  of  clothes  was  presented  to  him  by  his  ladies. 
Mrs.  B.  B.  Van  Buren,  who  was  president  of  the  organization 
that  presented  him  with  the  suit,  says: 

"On  the  Sunday  after  Dr.  Hatcher  had  received  the  suit 

I  was  mttJi^  in  a  pew  with  Mrs.  T ,  a  member  of  the 

society,  who  had  been  active  in  raiai^  the  money  for  the  pas- 
toral gift  and  she  naturally  felt  great  interest  in  it.  When  Dr. 
Hatcher  came  into  the  pulpit  that  morning  he  had  on  the  new 
coat  but  he  wore  trousers  of  a  different  make.  She  began  to 
twist  and  frown  and  seemed  restless  and  uncomfortable  and 
indignanUy  whispered  to  me: 

"  'Just  look  at  Dr.  Hatcher;  I  dont  believe  he  has  on  the 
trousers  of  our  new  suit.'  No  sooner  was  the  service  ended 
than  this  lady,  who  was  a  devoted  friend  and  admirer  of  her 
pastor,  hurried  up  to  the  pulpit  platform  where  the  pastor  was 
busy  shaking  hands.  She  stood  there  in  the  group  of  people 
eyeing  him  so  curiously — especially  the  lower  half  of  h'TP — 
that  he  drew  back  and  began  to  eye  her  saying  'Well,  what 
are  you  scanning  me  so  closely  for?  What  is  the  trouble?' 
She  answered  with  a  show  of  impatience:  'Why,  Doctor,  you 
have  not  got  on  our  trousers.'  'Your  trousers?'  he  replied 
with  a  burst  of  surprise.  'Mercy  alive  woman  and  do  the  very 
trousers  that  I  wear  belong  to  you?' " 

During  the  Winter  and  Spring  much  of  his  time  was  occu- 
pied in  speaking,  writing,  attending  conferences,  committee 
meetings,  etc.,  and  alt  this  was  in  addition  to  his  mul- 
titudinous pastoral  duties.  A  trip  to  Waco,  Texas,  in  May, 
to  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  made  a  sunny  break  in  his 

crowded  life.    One  day  in  the  Convention  Dr. arose 

and  Bud  in  substance:  "Bro.  Moderator,  I  move  that  it  be 
declared  the  rule  of  this  Convention  that  no  collection  shall  be 
taken  at  the  meetings  of  this  Convention." 

Dr.  Hatcher  arose  to  oppose  the  motion  and  Dr.  E.  E.  Folk 
thus  describes  the  incident: 

"It  was  late  at  night  when  Dr.  Hatcher  got  the  floor  in 
oppomtion  to  the  res<)lution,  but  he  held  every  member  of  the 
Convention  in  his  seat  until  the  close  of  his  speech.  In  all  my 
life  I  think  I  have  never  heard  a  speech  quite  so  full  of  wit  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TEXAS  AND  MEXICO  189 

humor  and  ridicule  and  sarcasm.  The  Convention  was  con- 
stantly convulsed  with  laughter  and  completely  converted  to 
his  vay  of  thinking.  At  the  conclu»on  of  his  speech,  the  senti- 
ment of  the  Convention  was  evidently  so  overwhelming  in 

oppootion  to  the  resolution  that  Dr.  N arose  and 

asked  to  withdraw  it.  This  triimiph  of  oratory  was  all  the 
more  remarkable  because  Dr.  Hatcher  was  in  the  wroi^,  as 
every  one  since,  includii^  himself,  has  come  to  recognize." 

His  Waco  visit  added  a  bright  new  chapter  to  his  life  and  also 
put  Mexico  on  hia  programme. 

From  Waco  he  went  with  an  excursion  party  of  delegates, 
into  Mexico  and  upon  his  return  to  Richmond  he  wrote  about 
his  journey  and  his  pen  must  have  been  in  playful  mood. 

"Be  it  known  to  all  swelling  tourists"  he  writes  "that  we  have 
had  a  mild  case  of  foreign  travel.  True,  we  did  not  go  far, 
nor  Ertay  long,  nor  see  very  much,  nor  get  much  ori^nal  matter 
out  of  the  Mencans.  But  this  matters  little.  We  have  been 
abroad.  We  crossed  the  Rio  Grande  and  tasted  the  rapture 
of  seeing  another  country.  It  makes  us  feel  expansive;  it 
lifts  us  out  of  the  untraveled  herd  and  gives  us  a  name  and  a 
rank  among  the  great.  No  more  will  we  sit,  a  wild-eyed  simple- 
ton, to  admire  the  pompous  urs  of  the  man  who  has  been.  If 
we  cannot  cream  our  public  addresses  with  'When  I  was  in 
Rome,'  we  can  at  least,  hereafter,  say  with  lofty  majesty, 
'Difring  my  somewhat  extended  sojourn  in  Monterey,'  and 
we  fancy  that  that  will  m^htily  thrill  the  popular  ear." 

The  Texas-Mexico  trip  was  of  a  vari^^ted  hue,  and,  as  he 
Biud,  "the  bitter  mingled  with  the  sweet  and  trials  jostled  with 
our  pleasures."  For  example,  he  wore  a  beaver  hat, —  but  let 
him  tell  of  the  tragedy: 

"It  was  a  new  hat;  a  costly  beaver  laid  in  for  Waco; — the 
climax  of  fashion  and  fondly  prized.  That  hat  and  Dr.  Chaplin 
undertook  to  occupy  the  same  seat  in  the  car  at  the  same 
moment.  When  we  reached  the  scene  Chaplin  was  serene  but 
the  hat  was  invinble.  A  crumbled  wreck  was  our  headgear 
for  the  rest  of  the  way.    But  we  never  blamed  the  hat." 

Other  disasters  were  lurking  for  him  on  Mexican  soil,  one  of 
which  was  his  arrest  by  a  Mexican  ofBcer. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


190  DEATH  OF  ELSIE 

"But  the  crifflH  of  our  misfortunes  came"  said  he  "when  we 
fell  a  victim  in  the  hands  of  the  Mexican  law  with  the  tawny 
dwarf  of  a  Mexican  soldier  escorting  ub  through  a  public 
market.  The  ground  of  our  abridged  liberty  was  an  ^eged 
crookedness  on  our  part  in  the  purchase  of  a  twenty  five  cent 
basket.  We  are  pleased  to  report  that  we  confronted  our 
accuser  and  retired  from  the  scene  of  the  conflict  with  our 
basket  swii^ing  in  peaceful  triumph  at  our  side.  This  did  not 
prevent  those  venerable  knights  of  the  pencil,  Col.  Lawton  of 
the  Index  and  Dr.  Caperton  of  the  Western  Recorder  from 
laugbii^  mightily  at  us  In  our  calamity.  Nor  did  it  clip  the 
pinions  of  the  fast  fiying  rumor  that  a  Richmond  editor  had 
been  before  a  Monterey  court,— which  same  thing  was  happily 
untrue.  We  give  it  as  our  experience  that  it  is  a  perilous  thing 
for  a  man  to  buy  baskets  in  an  unknown  tongue.  We  bought 
one  and  do  not  wish  to  increase  our  stock." 

At  bis  ^gbth  pastoral  anniversary  in  May  hia  diurch  mem- 
bership was  announced  as  being  928.  He  had  at  this  time 
eight  children — Eldridge,  May,  One,  Kate,  Elizabeth,  Edith 
and  the  twins,  Brantly  and  Elde,  who  were  just  one  year 
old. 

The  Summer  brought  a  cutting  sorrow  for  him.  He  had 
many  hopes  wr^ped  up  in  little  Brantly  and  Elme,  With  the 
Summer's  beat  came  rackness  and  finally  the  little  invalids 
were  hurried  off  to  the  mountains,  but  at  New  Market,  in 
Nelson  County,  they  were  stopped  and  the  father  was  sent  for. 
"At  the  dawn  of  Saturday  morning"  he  writes  "we  found  one 
dead,  another  extremely  low  and  the  rest  stricken  and  crushed. 
Truly,  a  day  of  deep  shadow  that  one  might  pray  to  foi^t. 
And  yet  it  must  abide  in  our  memory,  not  only  because  hal- 
lowed by  a  sacred  sorrow,  but  because  brightened  by  the  beau- 
tiful deeds  of  others." 

It  was  a  mournful  journey  that  he  made  to  Richmond  where, 
in  Hollywood,  by  lantern  light,  and  accompanied  by  Dra. 
Landrum,  Hawthorne  and  Shipman,  the  little  body  of  Elme 
was  buried.  Sad  of  heart,  he  turned  his  face  towards  the 
mountfun  to  resume  his  Sununer  travels. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DEATH  OF  BRANTLY  191 

He  met  a  gentleman  with  whom  he  was  destined  to  be  linked 
in  royal  friendBhip,  Judge  Jonathan  Haralson  and  the  meeting 
place  was  the  Blue  Sldge  SpiingB.  They  were  together  for 
several  days  at  the  Springs  and  he  seemed  hke  a  boy  with  a  new 
treasure.  They  played  ten  pins,  took  walks  and  spent  many 
hours  in  conversation. 

He  was  still  indulging  golden  dreams  about  Uttle  Brantly, — ' 
about  his  developement  into  boyhood  and  youth.  But  a  bitter 
grief  was  in  store  for  him.    He  thus  writes: 

"That  night  we  slept  in  Liberty — No  we  did  not  sleep  but 
through  the  weary  ni^t  we  lay  with  a  new  wound  in  our  heart, 
askit^;  for  a  helping  smile  from  a  chastening  father.  Another 
light  on  our  path  had  gone  out — another  sweet  hope  was  dead 
and  in  the  gray  dawn  of  the  morning  we  quit  Bedford  with 
scarcely  a  thought  of  all  that  it  contains  of  all  that  is  precious 
to  us.  A-  day's  lone  journeying,  and  at  eventide  we  stood  beside 
the  tiny  white  coffin  in  wluch  our  baby  was  asleep," 

At  the  side  of  Elsie,  in  Hollywood,  they  laid  Brantly. 

He  must  bury  bis  sorrow  in  his  work  and  so  in  a  short  wliile 
he  turns  his  face  again  towards  the  mountains. 

The  reader  remembers  the  journey  of  the  "Caravan"  of  the 
previous  Summer  when  Dr.  Hatcher  and  a  party  of  preachers 
and  laymen  traveled  into  the  mounting  of  Southwest  Virginia 
to  carry  greetings  to  their  brethren  of  the  Lebanon  As- 
Bodation.  It  had  been  detnded  to  repeat  the  experiment  and  to 
organize  a  larger  Caravan  for  the  present  Summer.  Among 
those  who  joined  the  party  were  Drs.  J.  L.  M.  Curry,  E.  C. 
Dargan,  C.  L.  Cocke,  A.  E.  Owen  and  others,  and  it  must  have 
produced  a  little  sensation  in  that  Lebanon  Association  when 
these  brethren  from  other  portions  of  the  state  drove  into  thdr 
midst. 

From  Glade  Spring  he  writes  to  his  wife  on  Aug  17th: 

"I  am  now  in  J.  R.  Harrison's  study  and  Dr.  is 

preachii^  in  the  church  very  near  to  me.  He  is  raving  like  a 
madman.    His  voice  is  broken  and  he  is  ranting  his  life  out  of 


iiyGoot^lc 


192  THE  CARAVAN 

him.     D has  been  doing  some  moet  violent  ranting  also 

and  even  S has  been  on  a  snort  and  much  to  bis  own 

regret.  He  says  that  he  is  going  to  cultivate  a  cooler  maimer. 
I  am  grieved  and  shocked  by  the  useless  and  graUng  vehemence 
of  our  speakers.    It  is  not  the  way  to  preach  the  gospel." 

During  the  Association  Dr.  Hatcher  preached  and,  at  the 
close,  an  old  sister  expressed  her  elation  over  the  sermon  by 
indulging  in  a  shout.  Some  of  the  delegates  of  the  Caravan 
thought  they  discovered  some  humor  in  the  episode  and 
gave  the  following  accoimt  of  it: 

"After  Dr.  Hatcher's  sermon  a  collection  was  taken  and  the 
collectors  reported  that  when  the  hat  was  passed  to  the  lady 
who  bad  m&de  so  much  noise  over  the  sermon  she  gave  not  a 
penny." 

The  Caravan  considered  this  a  great  joke  on  Doctor  Hatcher 
who  rephed: 

"If  it  could  be  shown  that  the  woman  had  any  money  and 
refused  to  give,  the  caee  would  be  suggestively  melancholy, 
but  it  may  have  been  that  she  had  not  even  two  mites." 

Sunday  marked  the  end  of  their  stay  at  the  Association. 

"After  preaching  on  Sunday  morning"  he  writes  "we  set 
our  faces  eastward  ahd  after  a  crushing  drive  we  reached 
Abii^don  several  hours  in  the  night.  Near  the  edge  of  the  town 
and  beneath  the  gleaming  stars  we  came 'to  a  mournful  pause — 
shook  hands  and  adjourned  the  Caravan.  Its  broken  fragmoits 
scattered  away  in  the  deep  darkness,  each  going  his  own  chosen 
path.  In  company  with  Owen  and  Kincannon  we  caught  a  pasa- 
mg  train  and  at  midnight  were  in  Bristol. 

"Adieu,  adieu  to  the  Caravan  of  1883.  It  is  numbered  with 
the  happy  thii^  that  were.  Even  now  ita  members  are  scat- 
tered afar  and  will  not  all  meet  again  beneath  the  silver  mi^iles. 
But  are  there  not  trees,  on  some  far  off  pifun,  where  we  shall 
meet  agiun?    Amen,  so  let  it  be." 

To  his  wife  he  writes,  "I  was  never  so  sad  as  I  have  been  nnce 
Brantly's  death.    I  did  not  love  him  any  more  than  I  did  £lae 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


JUDGE  HARALSON  193 

but  I  had  hopes  of  raising  him.  My  heart  has  been  Bore."  He 
returned  to  the  Blue  Bidge  Springs  for  a  few  days  and  renewed 
his  friendsbip  with  judge  Haralson,  concerning  whom  he  writes 
in  the  Herald: 

"God  has  given  us  many  kind  and  loving  friends  and  we  can 
not  cease  to  be  mteful  for  them  but  we  have  not  one  in  all  the 
earth  whom  we  love  with  a  more  clinging  and  trustful  friend- 
ship than  the  Hon.  Jon.  Haralson  of  Selma,  Alabama.  He 
pleased  us  even  unto  vanity  when  he  told  us  that  he  had  been 
watching  the  trams  every  day  for  a  week  in  the  hope  of  pulhng 
us  off  the  cars  as  we  came  back  from  our  mountain  rambles. 
Not  in  appearance,  but  in  voice,  movement,  spirit  and  general 
loveliness  of  character,  he  constantly  reminds  us  of  that  other 
jewel  of  our  heart.  Dr.  Henry  McDonald.  If  the  Judge  will 
move  to  Virginia  the  Herald  will  nominate  him  for  Gover- 


He  attended  the  Valley  Assodation  at  the  Mill  Creek  church 
in  Botetourt  County  and  here  he  had  a  little  experience  with 
a  mountain  boy  that  meant  much  for  the  boy.  This  lad's  name 
was  Robert  Dc^an,  who,  at  this  writing,  is  pastor  of  the 
Puiton  Avenue  Baptist  Church  of  Baltimore  City.  On  a 
Summer's  day  in  1883,  in  company  with  a  few  friends,  he  walked 
across  the  mountain  to  attend  for  the  first  time  a  Baptist 
Association.  It  was  &  great  occasion  for  him  and  he  thus 
describes  his  visit: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  fairly  charmed  me  by  his  eloquence  and 
sparkling  witticisms  as  he  spoke  in  behalf  of  the  Religious 
Herald  [of  which  he  was  one  of  the  editors.]  I  think  I  gave  him 
my  last  dollar  on  a  subscription  to  the  Herald  as  I  was  anxious 
to  read  anything  that  such  a  man  would  write. 

"After  the  adjournment  we  had  gathered  at  a  little  ndlroad 
station  near  by.  I  was  anxious  to  hear  these  learned  men  talk, 
so  I  stood  at  a  respectful  distance  hstening  to  the  conversation 
which  was  interspersed  with  amusing  jokes. 

"While  thus  engaged,  Dr.  Hatcher  left  his  companions,  came 
to  me  and  said:  'Boy,  what  is  your  name?'  I  was  abashed  and 
flattered  that  this  great  man  should  speak  to  me  or  take  any 
notice  of  me.    In  a  kind  and  gentle  voice  he  asked  me  many 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


194      INSPIRING  A   MOUNTAIN  BOY 

questions  which  I  tried  to  answer  to  my  best  sdvaDtsge.  As  the 
trun  rolled  up  he  took  me  by  the  hand,  looked  kind^  into  my 
face  and  said:  'I  am  your  friend  and  can  help  you  in  securing 
an  education  if  you  need  me.'  Then  placing  his  baud  t^iderly 
on  my  shoulder  he  said  'Boy,  I  hope  God  mR  make  a  preacher 
of  you  some  day.' 

"ThoBc  words  sounded  to  me  like  a  prayer.  They  awakened 
in  my  soul  a  latent  hope  of  something  of  which  I  bad  scarcely 
dared  to  dream  before.  The  weight  of  ihat  band  sent  an  im- 
pulse into  my  young  hf  e  that  has  remained  throughout  the  pass- 
ing years.  I  was  the  happiest  boy  alive  when  about  one  year 
later,  I  wrote  my  name  in  the  matriculation  books  at  Roanoke 
College." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XVm. 


COTTAOB  roa  OOUNntT  PASTOE.     a  CITT  PAffTOBATE.     CONTENTION 
AT  BALTmOSB.     OK  TBB  WING.    "ALOKQ  THE  BAPTIST  LINEs" 

His  vacation  aeason, — so  full  of  lights  and  shadows — melts 
away  and  he  finds  himself  in  Bicfamond  at  the  gateway  of 
another  pastoral  year.  He  preaches  on  "A  Strike  for  Strangers" 
using  the  text  in  Matthew  22:9:  "Go  ye  into  the  parting  of  the 
highways  and  as  many  as  ye  find  bid  to  the  marriage  feast." 

He  set  his  heart  upon  securing  a  home  for  a  comitiy  pastor 
whom  he  knew  was  strugglii^  upon  a  meager  salary.  He 
wrote  as  follows  in  the  Herald  of  Sept.  20th. 

"Here  is  a  pathetic  item  which  we  beg  that  all  cold  and  nar- 
row people  will  not  read.  They  will  not  enjoy  it  and  we  prefer 
that  they  will  jump  over  it  and  try  the  next  paragraph. 

"There  is  a  certain  Baptist  preacher  in  Virginia  who  sur- 
rendered at  Appomattox  Court  House  with  General  Lee  in 
1865,  after  four  years  in  the  war,  and  who  came  home  ragged 
and  without  a  penny  in  his  pocket.  From  that  day  he  has 
been  a  country  pastor,  str\^gling  along  on  a  small  salary — 
barely  enoi^  to  keep  him  above  the  waves  of  debt." 

He  theff  proceeds  to  m^e  an  appeal  for  funds  to  purchase  a 
Cottage  for  the  pastor. 

Every  few  weeks  thereafter  he  would  drop  into  his  columns  a 
little  jotting  about  the  "Cottage",  and  the  result  was  that  the 
^^>eal  was  heard,  the  contributions  flowed  in  and  at  this  date, 
Nov.  20th,  1914,  this  same  preacher, — now  too  ^ed  and  infirm 
for  the  wori£  of  the  pastorate  which  he  last  winter  re^pied — 
195 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


196    THE  METROPOLITAN  PASTORATE 

is  «tiU  living  in  the  same  "Cottage"  which  sprang  into  He  and 
beauty  through  the  kind  efforts  of  hia  friemd,  Dr.  Hatcher. 
Once  more  it  must  be  mentioned  that  the  "disturbing 
element"  in  his  church  were  still  on  his  track  and  tb^r 
opposition  would  often  be  discussed  around  our  fanuly 
fireside,  after  the  children  were  in  bed — though  I  know  one 
child  who  often  lingered  aroimd  the  hearth  stone  and  with 
youthful  indignation  beard  father  and  mother  talk  about  the 


But  be  seemed  confident  that  God  had  his  work  in  hand. 
His  life  at  this  1»me  was  crowded  with  tasks  of  preaching, 
visiting,  lecturing,  dedicatii^  churches,  attending  committee 
and  Board  meetings, — but  how  vain  to  attempt  to  catalogue 
all  his  goings  and  all  his  labors.  He  thus  refers  to  the  whirl 
and  rush  of  a  city  pastorate : 

"There  is  something  in  the  glare,  conspicuity  and  glamour 
of  a  metropoUtan  pastorate,  but,  Oh,  the  fret,  the  strain,  the 
death  of  it  all." 

He  is  sounding  an  alarm  to  those  young  preachers  who 
despise  the  small  and  unshowy  pastorates  and  chafe  and  strug- 
gle for  the  prominent  city  churches: 

"These  high  place&"Baid  he  "are  never  wisely  sought.  They 
are  tolerable  only  when  they  seek  the  man  and  even  when  they 
are  held  by  an  overstr^n  and  lost  by  a  breakdown.  .  .  . 
Do  not  clamor  for  the  bights;  they  are  cold  and  shppery.  If 
they  need  you  up  there  they  will  call  down  for  you  and  then 
you  may  go  up,  but  do  not  be  caught  waiting  at  the  bottom." 

"Now  churches  are  institutions Once  it  was 

a  sennon  or  two,  on  Sunday,  a  tew  calls  during  the  week,  but 
now  it  is  services,  committeea,  societies,  clubs,  entertainments, 
culture  or  literary  classes,  missions,  charities,  or  what  not 
almost  every  night.  To  guard,  foster  and  develope  these  is  the 
complicated  care  of  the  pastor.  .  .  .  His  duties,  Uke  the 
merdes  of  God,  are  renewed  unto  him  every  morning  and 
pursue  him  every  night  in  his  dreams. 

"The  day  for  the  long  haired,  isolated,  wild  eyed  preacher  is 
past.    It  requires  a  real  human  being  to  be  a  preacher  in  these 


D.qit'.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  SUNNY  NATURE  197 

"Gentlemen  beware  of  that  invisible  jury  which  will  ever  have 
your  case  in  hand  and  is  liable  to  bring  in  its  verdict  any  mght 
while  you  are  asleep  and  you  may  wake  up  next  morning  to 
receive  your  fate," 

NotwithBtanding  his  heavy  stnuns  his  cheerfubiess  never 
foraook  him.  His  simny  nature  showed  itself  in  his  counten- 
ance, his  conversation  and  in  his  varied  activities.  I  remember 
that  (mce,  when  as  a  boy  driving  with  him  in  the  bu^y,  and 
mymind  was  dwelling  on  the  subject  of  "happiness"  I  asked 
him.  "Pope,,  are  you  perfectly  happy?"  "Happy?"  he  sud, 
S8  if  be  was  hardly  acquainted  with  the  word.  "Why  my  hap- 
pinees  comes  from  my  work.  If  I  am  doing  that,  I  am  happy." 
His  words  and  his  manner  of  uttering  then  dropped  a  new  idea 
into  the  mind  of  the  boy  at  his  ade  who  up  to  that  time  had 
never  thought  of  "work"  and  "happiness"  as  living  together 
on  such  close  terms.  Says  Carlyle  "The  only  happiness  a 
brave  man  ever  troubled  himself  with  asking  much  about  was 
happiness  enough  to  get  his  work  done."  Carlyle  went  at  his 
tasks  with  grim  ferocity,  but,  alas,  he  had  not  the  christian 
hope  to  light  his  pathway  as  he  toiled.  It  was  said  of  Cromwell 
however  that  "hope  shone  like  a  fiery  pillar  in  him  when  it  had 
gone  out  in  all  others."  The  sun  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  happiness 
rarely  sank  below  the  horizon. 

"Away  with  those  fellows  who  go  howling  through  life  and 
all  the  while  pasong  for  birds  of  Paradise",  says  Beecher  .  "He 
that  cannot  laugh  and  be  gay  should  look  to  himself."  It  was 
this  same  preacher  who  said  that  some  people  go  through  life 
as  a  band  of  muMc  passes  down  the  street  flin^ng  melody  and 
gladness  on  all  sides.  One  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  members  wrote 
him  "The  very  sight  of  you  on  the  street  at  times  when  I  have 
been  burdened  with  care  has  been  a  blesmng  to  me." 

He  drew  happiness  not  only  from  his  work,  but  he  seemed 
to  find  it  everywhere:  "I  have  often  said"  he  remarked  "that 
my  life  has  been  a  succesdon  of  pleasant  surprises."  His  jovial 
joints  brightened  hia  home.  It  was  about  this  time  that  he  had 
■evBral  Richmond  College  students  living  in  his  home  and  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


198  FAILING  ON  A  SERMON 

genial  fun  around  the  table  mingled  vith  his  words  of  sobers 
ness  and  counsel.  One  of  the  young  men,  Rev.  P.  G.  Elsom, 
in  speaking  of  how  Dr.  Hatcher  helped  him  by  hia  "cheerful- 
ness" sfud:  "He  could  bring  a  smile  to  a  tombstone.  He  gath- 
ered preachers  often  at  his  home  and  the  merriment  be  would 
create  was  a  feast  to  ua  boys."  Dr,  C.  H.  Dodd  happily  de- 
scribed him  as  "The  man  who  inade  the  years  his  friend." 
The  following  editorial  jotting  from  his  pen  seems  to  indicate 
that  one  of  his  sermons  at  this  time  had  a  narrow  escape  from 
shipwreck: 

"It  is  ea^  to  fail  on  a  thoroughly  prepared  sermon.  A  head- 
ache, or  a  cryii^  child,  or  a  drowsy  deacon,  or  a  sultry  morning, 
or  a  cold  house,  or  an  overheated  bouse,  or  an  empty  house, 
or  a  bad  liver,  or  a  sleepless  Saturday  night,  or  a  hoarse  voice, 
or  a  giumblii^  tooth,  or  too  much  breakfast,  or  a  hitch  in  the 
sin^ng,  or  a  squad  of  giggling  young  people  in  the  gallery,  or  a 
ffunting  woman,  or  a  rattling  window,  or  a  few  ostentatiously 
late  comers,  or  a  blundering  sexton,  or  an  unmanageable  cravat, 
or  the  ringing  of  the  fire  bells,  or  a  thunder  storm,  or  sevenil 
other  things,  needless  now  to  enumerate,  may  leap  in  upon  the 
poor  vessel  of  clay  and  knock  the  very  marrow  out  of  his  sermon. 
In  such  cases  let  preachers  have  common  sense  and  they  may 
rise  superior  to  such  annoyances." 

He  delivered  an  address  at  the  Social  Union  in  Baltimore 
on  April  10th  on  "The  Soutiiem  Baptist  Ccmvention",  and  one 
month  later  in  that  same  city,  he  attended  the  meetii^  of  this 
Convention  where  we  find  him  engaged  in  his  favorite  practice 
of  lifting  a  brother  over  a  rough  place. 

"At  the  conclusion  of  the  evening  service,  Dr.  W.  E,  Hatcher 
asked  that  a  collection  be  taken  to  enable  brother  Langley  to 
build  a  house  of  worship  on  his  mission  field  in  Florida;  it  was 
done  and  a  iiandsome  sum  rwsed." 

He  also  spoke  in  the  Baltimore  Convention  on  "The  Church 
Buildii^  Fund"  and  Dr.  Edward  Bright,  the  editor  of  the  New 
York  Examiner,  wrote  that  the  address  was  "as  fine  a  specimen 
of  terse  and  vigorous  English  as  he  had  ever  heard." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TAFFY  199 

Dr.  Bret's  visit  to  the  ConventioD  had  an  amuaing  sequel. 

It  provoked  a  little  editorial  tilt  between  Dr.  L and 

Dr.  Hatcher,  which  came  about  as  follows: 

Dr.  Bright  was  an  eminent  Baptist  layman  from  the  North 
and  consequently  the  Convention  in  Baltimore  accorded  him 
an  exceedingly  fraternal  welcome.  The  cordiality  of  the  wel- 
come touched  bis  heart  and  his  response  was  couched  in  warm, 
kindly  tonea. 

There  was  one  gentleman  however, — Dr.  L ,  editor 

of  the  J and  M ,  a  Northern  publication, — 

who,  as  he  read  the  account  of  the  fraternal  incident,  thought 
that  Dr.  Bright's  response  to  the  Convention  was  "overdone," — 
at  any  rate  he  said  in  his  paper  that  Dr.  Bright,  in  his  speech 
to  the  Southern  brethren,  was  feeding  them  on  taffy. 

Dr.  Hatcher  read  the  comment  and  he  made  the  following 
response  in  the  Herald: 

"Dr.  L intimates  that  Dr.  Bright  fed  the  Southern 

Baptists  on  "taffy", 

"Taffy!  Let  u8  pause  for  reflection.  What  is  taffy?  Unluckily 
the  word  is  not  in  our  copy  of  Webster's  Unabridged  and  so  we 

are  left  at  a  disadvantage  in  deciding  exactiy  what  Dr.  L 

is  talking  about.  We  happen  to  mow  that  taffy  is  a  con- 
fectioner's term  and  means  molasses  candy.    Does  Dr.  L 

mean  that  i)r.  Bright  came  down  to  Baltimore  with  his  pockets 
loaded  with  molasses  candy  and  scattered  it  around  among 
Southern  Baptists.  Dr.  Bright  did  not  do  it.  We  asked 
"Langley  [the  Virginia  correspondent  of  Dr.  Bright's  paper] 
if  Dr.  Bright  gave  him  any  molasses  candy  and  he  smacked 
his  lips  significantly  and  said  that  be  did  not.  If  Dr.  Bright 
did  not  give  Langley  any  then  he  did  not  have  any.  That  is 
perfectly  clear  to  any  rational  mind.  So  the  theory  of  Dr. 
Bright  having  had  molasses  candy  concealed  about  his  person 
tumbles  to  the  ground. 

"But  another  point.    When  Dr.  L charges  that  Dr. 

Bright  fed  Southern  Baptists  on  taffy  that  is  equal  to  saying 
tiiat  we  poor  Southern  simpletons  unsuspectingly  swallowed 
the  saccharine  dose.  Does  he  mean  that  Southern  Baptists  are 
fond  of  flattery,  or  else  that  we  have  not  sense  to  know  when 
s  man  is  flatt^ing  us.    Come,  now,  this  matter  is  growing 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


200  NINTH  ANNIVERSARY 

serious.     Dr.  L swings  a  two  edged  sword  which, 

while  aimed  at  Dr.  Bright,  pierces  us.    Before  he  knows  it  he 
will  hurt  somebody. 

"We  beg  Dr.  L not  to  be  rough  on  Dr.  Bright.   He 

may  not  be  successful  in  running  so  good  a  paper  as  the  J 

and  M ,  but  he  is  a  christifm  brother,  and  we  must  be 

kind  to  him-    Taffy  may  not  be  a  first  class  luxury  but  it  is 
sweeter  than  vinegar," 

Upon  his  return  from  the  Convention  he  celebrated  his 
ninth  pastoral  anniversary  and  Rev.  G.  F.  Williams  thus 
describes  the  manner  in  which  he  spent  the  day: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  preached  his  anniversary  sermon  in  the  morn- 
ing and  received  floral  and  other  tributes  of  the  affection  and 
good  wishes  of  his  people.  After  dinner  he  visited  among  them 
till  three  o'clock;  he  then  attended  the  annual  meeting  of  his 
church,  to  be  gratified  by  the  showing  of  remarkable  progress 
in  most  departments  of  their  church  work.  At  five  o'clock  he 
conducted  a  funeral  service.  At  eight  o'clock  he  preached  for 
the  Fulton  Baptist  Church  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  city 
from  his  home;  at  ten  o'clock  he  reached  his  home  and  did 
important  writing  for  two  hours  before  retiring. 

"Dr.  Hatcher  has  grown  a  trifle  grey  and  this  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  if  his  Sundays  genersJly  are  as  busy  as  bis  an- 
niversary day." 

His  craving  for  the  refreshment  of  country  air  and  country 
people  shows  itself  in  the  following: 

"It  was  just  MX  o'clock  on  Friday  afternoon  of  last  week 
that  we  rapped  at  the  door  of  our  saintly  and  excellent  ^ster, 
Mrs.  Sarah  Sydnor  of  Hanover  County.  We  drove  out  on  the 
purely  selfish  errand  of  basking  beneath  the  shade  of  her  kingly 
oaks,  breathing  the  pure  air,  escaping  the  remorseless  heats  of 
the  city  and  having  a  quiet  evening  in  her  lovely  home. 

"Oh,  what  a  bright  eyed  and  gladsome  welcome  she  gave  us. 
How  rich  and  ready  was  her  hospitality.  To  her  and  that 
matchless  domestic  philosopher,  Miss  Francis,  we  make  our 
most  grateful  obeisance." 

Here  is  a  vivid  little  picture  of  one  of  the  multitudinous 
experiences  that  befell  him  as  he  went  to  and  fro  over  the 
ooOntry: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MOUNTAINEERS  201 

"On  oor  way  to  the  Potomac  AflBotnation"  he  writes:  "we 
stq>ped  from  the  New  York  trtun  at  eleven  and  a  half  o'clock 
at  night  and  there  stood  beneath  the  gas  light  the  towering 
form  of  O.  F.  Flippo,  Jr.  He  had  come  out  at  that  drowsy  hour 
to  take  charge  of  this  begrimed  pilgrim.  Upon  reaching  the 
parsonage,  we  found  the  old  gentleman — that  is,  the  senior 
Oscar — ^with  his  head  out  at  the  second  Etory  window  shouting 
with  charming  vociferousnesB,  'Come  in  brother;  come  in  and 
up.    Glad,  glad  to  see  you.' 

"What  was  yet  more  amazing,  he  escorted  us  to  the  supper 
room  and  forced  us  to  partake  of  a  rich  mid-night  festival. 
Flippo's  house  is  a  happy  retreat  for  a  hut^ry  man — but  not 
so  attractive  a  place  for  a  sleepy  man — ^for  who  can  sleep  when 
he  has  Flippo  at  his  best  to  t^k  to  him.  We  had  a  pleasant 
visit,  but,  even  at  the  risk  of  loEOi^  FUppo's  favor,  we  boldly 
declare  that  we  did  not  have  as  happy  a  visit  bb  we  might  have 
had  and  would  have  had  if  Mrs.  Flippo  had  been  at  home.  Her 
prtuse,  as  a  pastor's  wife,  is  on  many  Ups  and  it  was  a  sore  regret 
that  we  did  not  see  her." 

After  preaching  in  New  York  he  attended  the  Albemarle 
Assodation  in  Amherst  County  and  in  a  complimentary 
letter  in  the  Herald  about  the  Amherst  people  he  referred  to 
them  as  "stalwart  mountaineers".  They  resented  the  name 
"mountaineer,"  as  applied  to  themselves,  and  Dr.  Hatcher, 
upon  hearing  of  it,  repUed  in  the  Herald : 

"A  brother  told  us  that  some  of  the  Amherst  people  were 
offended  with  us  because  we  spoke  of  them  as  "mountaineers." 
Instead  of  begging  their  pardon  we  will  make  one  remark.  We 
have  never  had  much  to  boast  of  in  connection  with  our  own 
history;  not  noble  ancestry,  nor  wealth,  nor  genius,  nor  fame, 
but  one  thing  we  have  ever  loved  to  boast  of  and  that  is  that  we 
were  bom  in  the  motmtains  of  Virginia.  We  count  it  an  honor 
that  we  are  a  mountfuneer  and  never  weary  of  upbraiding  our 
ftieods  who  were  so  unaccountably  foolish  as  to  be  bora  in  the 
fiat  lowlands  of  Virginia.  As  &  fact  we  esteem  our  visit  to 
Amherst  as  among  the  most  charming  incidents  of  our  Summer 
campaign  and  we  would  indeed  be  a  monster  of  ingratitude 
if  we  had  written  one  word  to  wound  those  who  treated  us 
with  such  delightful  consideration." 

From  point  to  point  in  the  state  he  dashed  but  there  was 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


202        ALONG  THE  BAPTIST  LINES 

one  little  visit,  only  a  few  moments  in  loigUi,  that  stood  out 
in  a  class  by  itself.  It  was  a  stop  that  he  made  at  the  mountain 
stream  in  Bedford  in  which,  as  a  boy,  he  was  baptized. 

"At  ^ght  o'clock  that  morning"  he  wrote  "in  company  with 
brother  M.  C.  Jadd,  we  left  Liberty  in  an  open  carriage  and 
as  we  sped  along  the  old  familiar  road  our  memory  was  bu^ 
with  the  events  of  other  days  and  our  eyes  were  feastii^  upon 
the  ever  shifting  scene  of  beauty  that  spread  before  us,  The 
day  was  faultle^y  bright  and  refreshing  and  the  hills  of  old 
Bedford  were  never  decked  in  fairer  robes  of  loveliness  than  on 
ttiat  morning.  As  we  crossed  Otter  Creek — within  a  few  steps 
of  the  spot  where  in  our  boyhood  we  were  buried  in  baptisn 
with  our  Kedeemer — ^we  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  alight 
from  the  carriage  and  dip  our  brow  once  more  in  its  clear  and 
placid  current.  Ah,  that  ht^jpy  baptismal  day.  Can  we  ever 
forget  it." 

Thus  his  Summer  days  passed  by  and  September  found  him 
again  in  Richmond.  The  scattered  family  came  trooping  back, 
the  children  were  equipped  for  school  and  '608  W.  Grace'  was 
open  once  more  for  foumness. 

His  Summer  rambles  always  strengthened  the  tie  between  the 
country  people  and  his  own  church  in  Bichmond,  and  his 
sermons  and  addresses  during  the  Summer  generally  resulted 
in  requests  to  him  for  return  visitB  in  the  Fall  or  Winter  months. 

He  wrote  every  week  in  the  Herald  one  or  two  columns  of 
paragraphs  under  the  heading,  "Along  the  Bi^tist  Lines." 
These  paragraphs  told  of  Baptist  happenings  in  the  state . 
While  he  aimed  to  make  his  news  items  interesting  for  all  readers 
yet  he  gave  the  preference  to  those  items  that  would  cheer,  or 
stimulate,  the  workers  "along  the  Baptist  lines."  He  delighted 
to  mngle  out  pastors  who  were  toiling  in  lonely  places,  or  were 
tug^ng  at  difficult  tasks  with  but  little  reward,  and  bring 
them  into  his  columns  with  words  of  love  and  praise.  His  com- 
ments never  dropped  into  flattery,  nor  fulsome  praise,  and  he 
sought  to  pay  tributes  only  to  those  who  merited  them. 

But  here  and  there  a  reader  would  become  disgruntled.  A 
gentleman  wrote  him  a  letter  which  ran  aubstaatially  as  follows: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  SHOT-GUN  POLICY  203 

"Dear  Db.  Hatchbb: 

"You  fill  your  columns  with  too  much  prtaae  of  preachers. 
You  give  UB  only  one  dde  of  the  atuation.  You  overdo  the 
matter  and  ought  not  to  praise  so  many  people." 

Dr.  Hatcher  accepted  the  chsllepge  and  announced  in  the 
Herald  of  Oct.  30th  that  he  would  discontinue  his  pnuse  of  the 
brethren  and  would  in  the  future  seek  to  gather  gloomy  items 
for  his  columns.  He  told  of  the  critical  letter  which  he  had 
rec^ved,  asked  the  public  to  send  him  only  dark  and  doleful 
tidings.    How  did  the  experiment  work? 

He  answered  this  question  in  the  Herald  of  Nov.  6th : 

"After  duly  nerving  our  mind  up  to  the  shot-gun  policy  and 
getting  on  the  war  punt  we  sat  down  to  report  all  ^e  crashes 
collisons  and  etplo^ons  up  and  down  the  Baptist  lines.  But, 
as  we  dipped  our  pen  in  fire  and  began  our  deadly  buoness, 
trouble  set  in  upon  us  like  a  tornado  from  every  quarter.  We 
could  not  make  any  headway.  Everybody  seemed  to  turn 
agunst  us.    Our  bloodiest  items  perished  on  our  hands. 

"First  of  all,  we  made  a  savage  drive  at  Dr.  Pollard,  be^n- 
ning  our  item  thus; 

"  'A  perverse  world  will  gloat  in  demonical  rapture  to  hear 
that  the  pastor  of  Leigh  Street  church  [Dr.  Pollard]  is  in  very 
bad  health  and  happily  growii^  worse  eveiy  day' — when  in 
walked  Pollard  with  the  ^ow  of  health  upon  his  face.  So  that 
paragraph  faded  out. 

"Then  we  fancied  that  we  had  mortal  aim  upon  another  of  the 
Richmond  pastors  and  were  shaping  our  thoughts  thus;  'We' 
hasten  with  savage  joy  to  record  the  fact  that  brother  so  and 
BO  made  a  total  and  unmitigated  break-down  in  his  last  Sunday 
night's  sermon  and  is  now  on  the  jagged  borders  of  despair: 
when  in  came  a  brother  who  had  heard  the  sermon  and  declared 
that  it  was  truly  a  masterly  sermon.    Away  went  another  item, 

"Next,  we  thought  we  had  a  safe  case  on  brother  J.  M.  Pilcher 
of  Petersburg  which  was  to  go  thus;  'We  are  pleased  to  say  that 
brother  J.  M.  Pilcher  ia  suffering  with  a  wounded  thumb,  which 
is  steadily  growing  worse  and  worse,  much  to  the  satisfaction 
of  a  gainsaying  world'  when  in  strode  the  identical  Pilcher, 
serenSy  announdng  that  his  finger  was  on  the  highway  to 
recovery.  Thereupon  item  No.3  ranished.  Despuring  of 
findii^  such  news  as  we  had  promised  in  Richmond,  we  turned 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


204         A  GOOD-NATURED  BANTER 

to  our  mountainous  pile  of  correspondence  but  it  gave  UB  no 
consolation.  Not  a  paragrapb  of  the  sulphurous  sort  could  ve 
pick  up.  One  man  was  jubilantly  reporting  a  great  revival  in 
hJB  church,  another  was  telling  of  the  conversion  of  Mb  son. 
In  short  we  had  not  a  dot  of  bad  news  and  we  did  have  budgets 
of  juicy  and  cheery  items.  What  could  we  dot  We  had  no 
means  for  starting  an  establishment  for  the  manufacture  oi 
dreadful  tidings.  We  could  only  publish  such  things  as  were 
sent  us.  Such  being  the  state  of  the  case,  we  are  constrained 
to  withdraw  the  promise  of  last  week  and  do  as  we  have  always 
done." 

One  day  he  and  Dr.  ,  a  promment  minister  of  Qte 

Disciples  denomination  were  in  a  store  together  and  Dr. 
called  out  sayii^: 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  ^ve  me  a  good  text  for  next  Sunday.  I  have 
been  so  busy  that  I  have  not  had  time  to  find  a  one. 

"I  have  a  text  that  would  be  particularly  suitable  for  you" 
rephed  Dr.  Hatcher.  'Here  it  is: — 'Ye  blind  guides  which 
strain  out  a  gnat  and  swallow  a  camel.'  " 

"That's  a  very  good  text"  said  Dr.  "but  why  do 

you  say  it  is  specially  a  good  text  for  me?" 

"Because  you  have  swallowed  "A  Campbell"  replied  Dr. 
Hatcher,  with  a  good  natured  smile. 

It  was  his  custom  every  Christmas  day  to  visit  Um  aged 
and  the  poor  of  his  congregation. 

He  was  walking  aloi^  the  street  in  Richmond  <Hie  day  whoi 
a  merchant — a  gentleman  with  whom  he  maintained  very  frigidly 
relations  and  often  indulged  in  bantering  pleasantries — drove 
up  to  the  curb  atone  in  his  buggy  and  called  out:  "Doctor,  jump 
in  and  I'll  i^ve  you  a  ride  the  rest  of  the  way,"  to  which  Doc- 
tor Hatcher  replied  as  he  cwtinued  his  steps,  scarcely  looking 
up: 

"No,  I  thank  you;  I'm  in  a  hurry." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XIX 

VSIENDHHIP.     b.  L.  MOODY.     VISITS  TO  THE  OOONTRY.     CHAaLHB 
H.  PRATT.      AIDINQ  STUDENTS 

1884-1885 

One  of  the  donuiuat  truta  of  his  life  was  bis  pasfflon  for 
friendship.  It  was  not  merely  his  love  that  be  bad  for  men 
as  his  brothera,  but  there  waa  a  select  circle  to  whom  ^e  doors 
of  hia  heart  were  flung  mde  open  and  all  that  he  had  was  theirs. 
"In  every  aoul"  he  wrote  "there  is  an  inner  court — ^tbe  temple 
where  selfhood  unv^  itself  and  invites  the  entrance  of  friend- 
ship. There  f uth  knows  no  doubt,  love  casta  out  fear  and  soul 
holds  fellowship  with  soul."  He  had  no  patience  with  the 
motto  "treat  a  friend  as  if  he  might  become  your  enemy"  His 
career  cannot  be  understood  without  appreciating  what  a  large 
factor  in  bis  life  were  his  friendships.  It  was  in  that  sacred 
realm  that  his  soul  was  seen  at  its  best  and  its  worst;  there,  the 
true  William  E.  Hatcher  stood  forth  as  nowhere  else  and  his 
friends  looked  him  Uuough  and  through  and  saw  him  as  he 
was.  There  be  some,  in  this  day,  who  discount  friendship, 
and  the  public  press  recently  has  dropped  ai^gestions  about 
modem  ccsiditions  making  impossible  the  friendships  of  older 
di^a.  Let  us  not  lose  our  friendships.  "True  friendship 
betweoi  man  and  man"  said  a  wise  writer  "is  infimte  and 
immortal"  and  truly  has  it  been  styled  "the  sweetener  of 
hfe." 

He  had  certain  friends  to  whom  he  became  linked  in  his 
eariy  ministry  and  to  them  he  clui^  with  undying  devotion 
to  the  ead.  Anumg  these  were  Charles  H.  Ryland,  John  R. 
Ba^,  H.  H.  Wyer,  A.  E.  Owen  and  others.    He  had  later 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


206  FRIENDSHIP 

Mendships  with  Henry  McDonald,  W.  W.  Landrum,  T.  H. 
Pritchard,  Robert  H.  Wmfiee— but  it  is  vun  to  attempt  to 
call  the  toll. 

To  tear  such  friendships,  as  he  had  with  tliese  men  and  others, 
out  of  his  life  would  have  been  to  mangle  his  ^tire  ministry.  He 
carried  l^em  in  his  heart,  lived  upon  thar  love,  entwined  much 
of  his  life  around  them  and  drew  rich  inspiration  inan 
thdr  fellowship.  His  soul  was  built  for  friendship;  it  had  to 
.  have  it  and  would  have  died  without  it. 

When  he  heard  that  his  friend  John  R.  Bagby  had  been 
wounded  in  the  army  he  set  forth  to  find  him  and  after  untold 
difficulties  in  locating  and  reaching  him  he  found  Mm  so  weak 
and  helpless  that  he  not  only  had  to  shuffle  him  aboard  jolting 
cars  and  uncomfortable  conveyances  but  he  had  to  carry  him 
on  his  back  for  a  considerable  distance,  before  he  could  get  him 
to  his  own  home  where  for  many  weeks  he  nursed  him  back 
through  the  different  stages  of  his  recovery. 

One  of  Ms  richest  friendships  was  that  with  Dr.  Henry 
McDontdd.  He  tells  how  this  friendsMp  began  at  the  South- 
ern Baptist  Convention  in  Richmond  in  1878.  He  heard  Dr. 
McDonald  make  a  speech  and  he  says  regarding  it: 

"Candidly  speakii^,  it  was  not  Ms  form,  features,  argument, 
eloquence,— notMng  audible,  nor  visible,  that  attracted  me.  The 
joy  of  the  hour  to  me  was  the  discovery  of  a  man.  Back  of  all  else 
was  a  personality,  so  simple,  so  stately,  so  tender  and  so  win- 
some, that  I  surrendered  on  the  spot.  He  touched  certain  chorda 
of  my  being  that  had  never  been  swept  before.  New  foimtains 
of  joy  opened  in  my  soul.  Without  introduction,  or  apology, 
he  entered  into  my  life,  into  the  inner  court  of  my  being  without 
knocking  at  the  door,  without  sending  in  his  card.  He  was 
in  liefore  I  knew  it  and  strangely  enough,  a  room  all  furnished 
and  ready,  awaited  Ms  coming. 

I  knew  him  instantly,  about  as  well  as  I  ever  knew  Mm 
afterwards." 

Side  by  side  they  labored  as  pastors  in  Richmond  for  several 
years  until  Dr.  McDonald  moved  to  Atlanta.   "His  departure 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


FRIENDSHIP  207 

from  lUchmood"  sud  Dr.  Hatcher  "was  like  a  burial  to  me. 
It  did  not  break  our  bcmds,  but  it  separated  us  and  the  isolation 
'which  he  left  behind  was  an  oppresaon.  .  .  S^aration 
made  no  difference.  We  met  in  after  timea,  just  as  we  parted, 
and  began  just  where  we  left  off.  Our  wr&n^ea  were  Incessant 
and  while  they  rattled,  they  never  strained,  our  bonds."  It 
was  just  about  this  time  that  he  and  Dr.  McDonald  met  one 
day  in  the  Summer  at  the  Baptist  headquarters  m  New  York. 
He  thus  draws  the  picture: 

"While  chatting  with  these  brethren,  in  came  that  ever 
beloved  friend  of  my  heart,  Dr.  Henry  McDonald.  I  did  not 
salute  him  with  a  kiss,  though  I  have  seen  two  cases  of  mascuhne 
kissing  during  my  visit;  but  I  attested  my  affection  for  Mc- 
Donald by  a  spontaneous  and  warmly  reciprocated  embrace. 
We  had  nearly  six  hours  t^^ether — hours  of  untold  comfort 
and  strength  to  me.  We  loitered  aloi^  the  streets  rode  the 
cars,  crossed  the  ferries,  pretended  t«  see  the  sights,  but  to  me 
the  sght  of  McDonald's  face  was  a  vision  of  beauty  that  made 
New  York  stale  and  insipid." 

At  a  later  time  he  tells  of  another  littie  reunion  witii  this 
same -friend: 

"We  were  mtting  in  our  study,  last  Friday  in  a  rather  sombre 
frame  of  mind;  the  past  looked  unsatisfactory  and  even  the 
future  took  on  a  cerulean  tint.  We  were  on  the  murky  edge  of 
melancholy  and  felt  that  life  consisted  of  bla,sted  hopes  and  a 
few  gray  hturs.  There  then  was  a  rap  at  the  door  and  in  sprang 
our  beloved  McDonald  of  Georgia.  He  had  been  holding 
a  meeting  at  Wake  Forest  College  and  had  with  his  excellent 
ge<%raphic  accuracy,  decided  that  the  shortest  route  from  North 
Carolina  to  Georgia  was  by  the  way  of  Richmond.  He  was  in 
magnificent  health,  cherry  and  radiant,  full  of  hope  and  a 
panacea  for  all  our  sorrows.  He  reported  the  conversion  of 
twenty  Wake  Forest  students,  chatted  brightly  for  half  an 
hour  about  the  good  things  of  the  kingdom,  and  then  departed, 
but  the  charm  of  his  spirit  abode  with  us  and  we  were  on  the 
mountun  top  for  the  rest  of  the  day." 

Many  of  bis  friendships,  hke  that  with  Dr.  McDonald, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


208  FRIENDSHIP 

seemed  to  open  upon  him  suddenly.  "Procure  not  friends  in 
haste  and,  when  thou  hast  a  friend,  part  not  with  him  in  haste' ' 
says  Solon  the  lawgiver ;  a  wise  rule,  without  doubt,  for  him  who 
sets  forth  to  find  a  friend.  But  in  Dr.  Hatcher's  case  his 
choicest  friendships  seemed  to  find  him  and  broke  ui>on  him 
as  a  revelation.  "The  moment  of  finding  a  fellow  creature" 
says  George  EUot  is  often  as  full  of  mingled  doubt  and  ex- 
ultation as  the  moment  of  finding  an  idea."  In  his  moment 
of  finding  his  friends,  however,  there  was  the  exultation  without 
the  doubt.  He  raised  no  interrelation  points  over  his  friend- 
ships. He  cared  not  for  the  counBeli  "before  you  make  a 
friend  eat  a  bushel  of  salt  with  him."  Verily  let  many  bushels 
of  salt  be  eaten  first,  if  the  friendship  is  to  be  of  the  man's 
making.  But  he  seemed  to  wfdt  for  his  friendships  to  hepn. 
It  is  true  that  he  did  not  force  hb  friendships,  nor  did  he  over- 
work them.  He  gave  them  ample  mar{pn  to  operate  naturally 
and  spontaneously.  He  speaks,  somewhere,  about  youthful 
friendships  meeting  an  untimely  death  by  high  pressure  and 
over  indulgence.  But  such  cautious  treatment  of  his  friend- 
ships implies  reverence  rather  than  suspicion,  or  distrust. 

His  friendships,  however,  suffered  some  tragedies, — ^not 
merely  in  painful  separations,  but,  sometimes,  in  estrangements 
and  treachery.  For  example,  he  writes  me,  at  this  time,  about 
a  man  who,  in  his  early  ministry,  was  one  of  his  dearest  friends — 
a  layman  whom  he  had  helped,  in  many  ways,  to  make  a  man 
of  himself.  After  many  years  the  old  friend  had  broken  the 
tie  and  drifted  out  of  his  reach,  although  he  still  was  living  in 
Bicbmond.  The  man's  son  had  just  gone  to  wreck  in  financial 
matters  in  the  business  world  and  in  writing  me  about  it  he  says : 

"It  cut  me  to  the  quick.    Ah,  I  think  how  his  father  did  and 

I  can  hardly  wonder  that went  crooked.    His  father 

was  my  bosom  friend  and  he  forsook  me  and  that  for  reasons 
I  could  never  make  out.  I  love  him  yet,  but  I  do  not  know  the 
road  back  to  his  heart." 

He  had  another  friend — a  splendid  christian  woman  of 
Bichmond — but  in  a  certain  stressful  period  she,  by  her  heated 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


FRIENDSHIP  209 

words,  greatly  strained  the  friendly  tie  aad  he,  in  kindly  words 
warned  her  to  be  careful,  saying  "Friendship  is  a  delicate 
treasure  and  if  you  deal  with  it  too  roi^ly  it  may  break." 
"Friendship"  says  Landor  "is  a  vase  which,  when  it  is  flawed 
by  heat,  or  violence,  or  accident,  may  as  well  be  broken  at  once; 
it  can  never  be  trusted  afterwards."  "False  men.  never  have 
friends"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  "but  true  men  cannot  live  without 
them.  Out  Lord  needed  company  in  the  solitude  of  the  garden 
and  in  the  raptures  of  the  mountain  viaon." 

He  received  a  Christmas  token  from  his  choice  friend,  Rev. 
H.  H.  Wyer.  Whenever  he  would  start  on  a  journey  into  any 
part  of  northern  Vii^inia  he  would  begin  to  think  of  "Wyer" 
and  be^  to  wonder  if  he  could  not  put  Warrenton  on  his 
schedule  and  thus  get  a  a^t  of  him.  He  pays  him  a  tribute 
in  the  Herald: 

"When  from  his  aick  room  at  Warrenton  Va.  H.  H,  Wyer 
salt  us  a  Christmas  token  of  remembrance  he  little  knew  how 
it  would  touch  our  heart  into  freshness,  life  and  love.  Ah, 
these  old  friends — friends  of  the  morning  hours  of  life — friends 
tested  by  changing  years  and  blinding  sorrows—friends  whose 
circles  are  ever  narrowing  and  coming  closer  and  closer  to- 
gether— friends  with  the  deepening  snows  on  their  beard — 
how  we  love  them.  Oh,  how  we  love  them!  There  is  muac 
in  th^r  names,  pathos  in  their  voices  and  an  ever  growing  charm 
in  thdr  presence.  Dear,  ack,  Wyer,  we  are  with  you  in  spirit, 
day  by  day  and  night  by  night.  That  is  right,  old  fellow;  pull 
up  and  hold  on.  Earth  witii  you  gone  from  it  could  never  be  so 
bright  again." 

"His  love  for  his  friends"  sfud  Dr.  C.  H.  Hemdon  "was, 
while  changeless  and  steadfast  as  the  stars,  as  ardent  and 
intense  as  a  school  boy's." 

As  this  narrative  of  his  life  advances  it  will  unfold  his  happy 
experiences  with  these  men  whom  he  loved  above  all  others. 

"I  have  an  invitation"  he  writes  me  "to  go  to  California 
in  August  to  hold  a  meeting,  with  all  my  expraises  paid.  It 
comes  from  Frank  Dixtm  at  Oakland.  I  am  thinking  of  ac- 
cepting.  Dr.  C.  E.  Taylor  promises  to  go  with  me.    Must  I  go? 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


210  D.  L.  MOODY 

(It  sewnfl  to  me  that  I  wrote  you  this  before — or  if  not  to  you, 
to  some  other  nice  and  confidential  friend.)" 

The  year  1885  opened  with  a  bright  event  for  liim, — the 
arrival  of  the  great  preacher,  D.  L.  Moody,  for  evai^ehstjc 
meetings  in  Richmond.  He  hailed  his  comiii^  with  dehgbt 
aud  threw  himself  into  the  campaign  with  enthu^aam.  A 
touching  incident  occured  at  the  opening  service,  which  he 
loved  to  tell.  The  newspapers  had  reported,  before  Mr. 
Moody's  arrival  in  Bichmond,  that  he  had  in  former  years 
spoken  very  harsh  words  about  the  South.  He  heard  of  it  and 
wrote  to  the  committee,  of  which  Dr.  Hatcher  waa  a  member, 
suggesting  that  his  viat  to  Bichmond  be  abandoned,  but  the 
coQunittee  would  not  hear  of  it. 

He  came,  but  at  this  first  Sunday  morning  service,  he  felt  a 
chill  in  the  air.  "He  was  evidently  embarrassed"  sud  Dr. 
Hatcher  "and  spoke  with  constraint  and  uneaHnesa.  Just 
as  the  service  was  about  to  close  he  descended  from  his  elevated 
stand  and  walked  to  tbe  front  of  the  choir  platform  and  made 
a  speech.  'Friends  of  Bichmond'  he  sfud*  'you  have  been 
readii^  about  me  lately  aud  I  fear  you  have  not  a  good  feeling 
for  me.  I  do  not  think  I  stud  the  things  against  the  South 
with  which  I  am  chained;  but  I  am  an  awful  fool  and  have 
8(ud  many  foolish  thii^  in  my  day.  If  I  ever  did  say  anything 
against  the  South  I  am  sorry  for  it  and  ask  you  to  forgive  me.' 
"Instantly  a  ripple  of  t^iplause  commenced  and  swelled 
into  a  thundering  roar.  Moody  bowed  his  head,  tears  -wen 
in  his  eyes  and  he  had  the  heart  of  Bichmond." 

Moody  was  his  joy  and  the  meetings  clfumed  him  day 
and  night. 

He  tells  of  an  experience  he  had  with  Mr.  Moody  in  con- 
nection with  the  "Inquiry  Boom",  Boarding  at  the  same  hotel 
with  Mr.  Moody  was  a  man  of  an  unsavory  reputation  and  yet 
he  "carried  loads  of  sanctity  about  him  and  fastened  cm  to  the 
great  evangeUst  with  imscrupulous  eagerness."  One  aftemo<ai, 
in  the  inquirer's  meeting,  Mr.  Moody  su^ested  thia  individual 
as  beu%  well  suited^to^take  down  the  names  of  the  inquirers 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.  L.  MOODY  211 

who  had  come  into  the  room  for  counsel  and  help.   Dr.  Hatcher 
knew  in  a  flash  that  such  selection  would  be  a  mistake. 

"I  ventured  to  suggest  to  Mr.  Moody"  he  said  "that  he 
would  leave  that  to  be  settled  later  on  and  with  his  character- 
istic snap  he  said  the  thing  ought  to  be  done  at  once.  I  sug^ 
gested  that  it  ought  to  be  put  mto  the  hands  of  a  committee, 
but  he  declared,  brusquely  enough,  that  there  was  no  use  for 
all  that  machinery.  I  nominat«I  another  man  and  then  he 
turned  on  me  and  asked  what  was  the  matter  with  me  any 
way  and  broke  into  a  laugh.  When  the  meeting  was  over  he 
said  'I  want  to  thank  you  for  what  you  did.'  But  I  told  him  that 
I  felt  that  I  owed  him  an  apology  and  was  afrtud  th&t  he  would 
be  offended.  He  put  his  mouth  to  my  ear  and  siud  "What  is 
the  matter  with  him?'  I  told  him  that  it  was  not  worth  teUing 
but  that  of  all  the  men  in  Blchmond  he  was  the  most  unsuited 
to  be  secretary  of  the  inquiry  room.  Then,  with  a  charming 
candor,  he  said  that  with  the  great  pressure  which  was  upon 
him,  he  was  exceedingly  liable  to  make  mistakes  and  s^d  to 
me  that  be  hoped  I  would  watch  him  and  help  him  so  far  as  I 
could. 

"I  know  I  have  not  told  this  matter  in  such  a  way 
that  it  can  be  appreciated.  His  honesty  was  so  luminous, 
so  candid,  so  modest,  so  thorough  that  it  subdues  me  to  tears. 
It  showed  me  that  he  had  no  use  for  himself,  no  sensitiveness 
about  himself,  no  feeling  about  himself  except  to  do  the  thing 
that  ought  to  be  done  in  the  way  that  would  do  the  most 
good." 

Dr.  Hatcher  was.requested  to  make  a  farewell  address  to  Mr, 
Moody  at  the  end  of  the  meetings,  assuring  him  of  t^e  love 
and  gratitude  of  the  Bichmond  people.  Durii^  the  last 
service  he  told  Mr.  Moody  of  the  task  that  had  been  laid  upon 
him. 

"Please  don't  do  it"  sud  Mr.  Moody  "I  ai^reciate  it  all,  but 
it  makes  me  feel  like  a  fool  when  folks  get  to  hurrahing  over  me." 

"My  speech"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  "did  not  come  to  pass." 

It  was  a  varied  procesmon  of  characters  that  tramped  th^ 
way  to  his  study  door.    He  draws  a  picture  of  one  of  them; 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


212  THE  BOOK  AGENT 

"We  can  stand  a  book  ^.gent  provided  he  is  of  the  masculine 
denomination.  We  are  not  afraid  of  him.  He  is  a  man  and  so 
are  we  in  a  small  way  and  we  have  our  rights 

"But  when  she  comes — then  is  the  winter  of  our  diacont^it. 
We  bow  to  the  storm  and  have  no  remarks  to  submit.  She 
is  a  woman  and  has  the  advantage  of  us.  She  has  seen  better 
days  and  has  a  tear  in  her  eye.  She  belongs  to  an  old  family 
and  swam  in  luxury  in  her  youth. 

"She  came  the  other  day.  How  glib  and  rattling  she  wasi 
She  had  us  before  we  knew  it.  She  had  us  sitting  as  erect  as  a 
sunbeam  in  July  and  meekly  nodding  assent  to  her  sage  obser- 
vations. We  neither  moved  hand,  nor  foot,  and,  as  for  talking, 
we  had  no  chance.  She  talked  fast  and  she  talked  long  and  she 
talked  all  the  time.  After  regalii^  us  with  the  grandeur  of  het 
ancestry,  the  pleasures  of  her  childhood  and  the  surpassing 
excellences  of  her  book  she  touched  us  up;  she  did  it  hand- 
somely; she  expatiated  on  the  potency  of  our  influence,  the 
value  of  our  personal  signature  and  the  well  known  warmth 
and  kindness  of  our  heart.  Greatness,  she  hinted,  always  had 
a  tear  on  its  cheek  for  the  struggling  and  unfortunate  and  there 
we  were  — a  dumb  and  foolish  victim  to  the  spell.  Time  came 
and  went,  but  she  went  on  and  on  and  on.  We  felt  fatigued 
and  lonesome  and  wondered  how  it  would  end.  Finally  she 
descended  from  her  circumlocutory  flight  and  lit  in  the  region 
of  business.  The  atmosphere  became  commercial  and  it  was 
a  question  of  dollars  and  cents.  She  had  a  book  for  sale  and 
desired  to  sell  us  a  copy.  It  ceased  to  be  a  question  of  ancestry 
and  the  poetry  and  pruse  all  faded  away.  The  spell  was  broken 
and  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  say  whether  or  not  we  would  buy 
the  book. 

"We  did  it  as  well  as  we  could — we  spoke  in  a  bright  and 
respectful  tone — we  even  thanked  her  for  her  visit — we  paid 
a  tnbute  to  her  brilliant  conversational  gifts—we  wished  her 
high  fortune  and  a  golden  future  and  we  expressed  regret  that 
it  had  to  be  so.  How  her  whole  aspect  changed.  She  patted 
her  foot  with  petulance,  her  face  flushed,  she  breathed  wildly 
and  swept  angrily  away. 

"And  yet,  truly,  we  felt  sorry  for  her.  It  hurirus  to  think  of 
her  hard  lot  and-  her  desperate  devices  to  stem  the  tide  of 
adverse  fortune.  We  would  have  boi^t  her  book  except  that 
we  could  not  conscientiously  pay  an  exorbitant  price  for  a  use- 
less article." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MOTHER  LINDA  213 

A  miitisterial  student  from  the  Collie  was  in  his  study  one 
day  and  Dr.  Hatcher  was  talking  about  a  certtun  city  pastor 
in  the  state.  He  seemed  worried  by  the  brother's  peculiarities 
and  he  suddenly  and  impatiently  exclaimed  regarding  the 
minister  and  yet  with  a  suggestion  of  humor: 

"Psychologically,  he's  a  monstroaty;  theologically,  he's  a 
heretic  and  practdcJEtlly  he's  an  anarchist." 

It  was  rare  that  a  week  passed  without  finding  him  traveling 
into  some  section  of  the  state  for  a  lecture,  a  dedication,  a 
revival  campaign,  or  a  service  of  some  kind.  He  went,  the 
latter  part  of  March,  into  the  mountains  of  Augusta  county 
to  take  part  in  a  dedication  and  an  ordination  service  at  the 
Greenville  church.  He  draws  a  vivid  picture  of  his  arrival 
at  the  Peyton  home  and  of  the  greeting  which  he  received  from 
old  Mr.  Peyton: 

"There  he  was,  stretched  on  his  lounge — I  mean  brother 
Wm.  H.  Peyton — a  victim  of  some  grievous  foot  trouble;  and, 
as  I  out-ran  all  the  rest  and  rushed— unannounced  upon  turn 
in  his  chamber  he  sprang  up  and  took  me  to  his  arms.  I  could 
not  help  it — the  tears  would,  in  spite  of  me,  roll  out;  but  I 
played  the  hypocrite  and  hid  them  from  him.  Oh,  the  precious 
old  brotherl  For  just  twenty  five  years  I  had  carried  him  in  my 
heart;  but  I  never  loved  him  before  so  much  as  t  did  that  night. 
Four  nights  I  rested  beneath  Ms  roof.  Sweet  restful  ni^ts, 
mthout  a  care  or  pain — petted  and  pampered,  chided  and  up- 
braided by  Mother  Linda.  We  talked  of  the  past;  we  read  the 
word  of  Christ  together;  we  sang  the  hymns,  the  old  and  new, 
we  knelt  at  the  same  altar  where,  in  the  far  off  ante  bellum,  we 
used  to  bow;  we  asked  our  father  to  spare  us  for  other  meetinga 
on  the  eartii  and  communed  wonderingly  about  that  other 
meeting  out  on  the  green  hills  far  away  beyond  this  scene  of 
strife  and  death." 

As  was  his  custom  on  such  trips  he  carried  a  boy  with  him. 

"In  my  pilgrimage"  says  he  "I  had  as  my  fellow  traveler, 
Master  John  Garland  Pollard,  son  of  Dr.  Jolm  Pollard,  pastor 
of  the  Leigh  Street  Church.  When  we  started  he  was  frail  and 
noTOUS  and  carried  his  box  of  quinine  with  him  but  the  aght 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


214         FORGETTING  THE  HOSTESS 

of  the  mountains,  the  racking  rides  over  the  hills,  the  ri<di  milk 
and  l^e  pure  crisp  lur,  put  tiie  rose  tints  on  his  young  cheek. 
When,  on  Wednesday  morning,  we  bowed  adieu  to  the  Green- 
ville folks  and  the  tnun  whistled  away  with  us,  the  eyes  of  the 
Bichmond  boy  grew  very  mtnst  and  he  said  with  s  rueful  face: 
'Oh,  I  am  BO  sorry  to  have  to  leave'  and  that  was  the  way  I 
felt." 

The  boy  of  that  trip  is  the  present  Attorn^  General  of  the 
State. 

His  rural  journeys  brought^  him  some  ludicrous,  as  well 
as  sentimental,  episodes.  For  example,  a  few  weeks  after  the 
Greenville  visit,  he  went  out  into  the  country  to  preach  and 
was  delightfully  entertained  at  supper  in  one  of  the  homes 
of  the  community, — the  ladies  of  the  home  making  themselves 
particularly  agreeable,  vieii^  with  each  other  in  minist^ing 
to  his  comfort.  After  supper  he  hurried  to  the  church,  ahead 
of  the  others  and  began  the  service.  Shortly  afterwards  the 
family  arrived  and  found  seats,  but  he  observed  them  not. 

"After  the  service"  wrote  Dr.  Hatcher  "we  undertook  to 
play  the  agreeable  and  began  to  shake  hands  with  the  saints 
and  to  chat  around  to  the  best  of  our  ability.  Presently  we 
found  a  strikingly  good  looking  ^ster  in  front  of  us  and  holding 
out  our  hand  we  expressed  a  wish  to  form  her  acquintance.  A 
vicious  titter  rattled  through  the  crowd  and  the  sister  looked  a 
little  scornful.  We  asked  what  it  all  meant  and  found  to  our 
undoing  that  the  lady  in  question  was  the  one  'who  gave  us  our 
supper'.  We  spent  a  good  part  of  the  night  in  trying  to  e^Ifun 
how  it  happened,  but  we  cannot  say  that  our  transgression  will 
ever  be  forgiven." 

The  New  York  Sun,  a  few  days  later,  copied  the  above 
narrative  and  Dr.  Eatoher  thus  remarked: 

"The  editor  [of  the  New  York  Sun]  seems  to  think  it  was 
very  funny.  Perhaps  it  was,  but  it  did  not  seem  so  to  us,  nor 
the  sister." 

His  many  rambles  through  the  state,  did  not  bring  him  uni- 
versal fame, — as  is  seen  from  an  incident  which  occured  at 
thiq  time: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


STRAYING  OFF  215 

"We  have  knocked  around  in  the  country  adjacent  to 
Richmond  very  extensively.  There  is  not  a  road  which  we 
have  not  travded  again  and  again  and  not  a  church  wtucb  we 
have  not  visited  and  not  a  neighborhood  into  which  we  have 
not  gone.  In  our  concdt,  we  had  concluded  that  we  were  one 
of  the  well  imown  brethren, — at  least  within  a  small  compaaa. 

"Imagine  how  our-  plumes  dropped  to  the  dust  the  other 
evening  when,  upon  being  introduced  to  a  quite  pleasant 
looking  old  Baptist  lady,  she  curiously  eyed  us  from  head  to 
foot  and  innocently  inquired  if  we  were  a  'station  preacher  in 
Richmond';  and  there  sat  Thomhill,  a  gleeful  wine88  of  our 
downfall  and  what  oould  we  say.  A  blank  sense  of  our  obscurity 
struck  ua  dumb." 

He  maintained  very  pleasant  relations  with  his  Methodist 
brethren  and  often  engaged  in  pleasant  banter  with  them. 
He  was  in  a  group  of  persons  on  one  occa^on  in  which  there 
were  one  or  two  persons  by  the  name  of  Hatcher  who  were 
Methodists. 

One  of  the  Methodist  Hatchers  called  out  to  him:  "Dr. 
Hatcher  how  did  you  and  the  other  Hatchers  who  are  Bapliste 
happen  to  stray  off?" 

"Stray  off?"  Sfud  Dr.  Hatcher  "You'd  better  ask  how  you 
strayed  off.  There  were  Hatchers  in  this  county  before 
John  Wesley  was  bom." 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Richmond  College, 
one  of  the  gentlemen  present  arose,  and  sud: 

"Brother  moderator,  I  move  that  when  this  Board  awards 
the  degree  of  "D.  D."  to  a  minister  and  that  minister  does 
not  think  enough  of  the  Collie  to  come  to  tiie  Commence- 
ment to  receive  the. degree,  that  the  bctioQ  of  the  Board  be 
declared  null  and  void." 

"But  brother  Moderator,"  said  Judge  H 'Suppose 

this  Board  awards  the  "D.  D."  degree  to  a  minister  and  that 
minister  starts  to  the  College  Commencemeait  to  receive  the 
d^p-ee  and  he  takes  the  tram  in  time  to  attend  the  commence- 
ment, but  the  train  happens  to  be  delayed  and  he  hurries  on, 
however,  as  rapidly  as  he  can,  jumps  on  the  trolley  after  reaching 
the  Richinond  depot  and  the  trolley  jumps  off  and  causes  another 
delay  and  after  several  such  delays  the  man  reaches  the  College 
grounds,  rushes  into  the  buildii^,  but,  alas,  misses  the  Com- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


216  MR.  CHARLES  PRATT 

mencement  exercises:  where  is  that  fellow?'    Has  he  got  the 
two  "D's"  or  one  "D    or  what  is  he?" 

"I  think"  spoke  up  Dr.  Hatcher  "that  he  is  two  "D's" 
irith  a  dash  between." 

One  of  the  bright  features  of  his  Sunday  services  was  the 
presence  of  visitoTs  from  other  sections  of  the  'countiy.  One 
Sunday  morning  during  the  Spring  be  noticed  in  his  congrega- 
tion an  elderly,  plain,  but  interesting  looking  gentleman.  After 
the  service  had  aided  he  greeted  the  visitor  who  gave  his 
name  as  Mr.  Pratt.  Of  course  he  fell  a  victim  to  Dr.  Hatcher's 
ho^itable  clutches  and  had  to  go  home  with  him  to  dinner. 
Well  do  I  remember  the  sensatitm  created  among  us  children 
that  day  wheal  in  some  way  we  learned  that  the  old  gentleman — 
who  I  first  took  to  be  a  successful  farmer  from  one  of  the  Vir- 
ginia counties — waa  worth  several  millions  of  dollars.  What  a 
stretching  of  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  multi-miUioniure 
and  a  shower  of  winks  at  each  other  we  endulged  in  around  the 
table.  We  gazed  at  the  visitor,  as  if  the  seven  wonders  of  the 
world  had  suddenly  been  transported  to  608  W.  Grace  Street 
and  had  taken  up  their  abode  in  the  quiet  looking  old  man  at 
our  dde. 

Even  we  youngsters,  however,  could  see  that  he  had  wonder- 
ful eyes  and  when  he  talked  along  in  his  dmple  way  he  spoke 
as  if  he  had  tons  of  other  things  back  in  his  head  that  he  might 
say  if  he  wanted  to. 

But  dinner  is  over  and  of  course  Dr.  Hatcher  must  have  his 
distinguished  visitor  see  his  Boys  Meeting.  He  was  none  other 
than  Mr.  Charles  Pratt,  the  founder  of  the  Pratt  Institute  and 
the  well-known  Baptist  philanthropist  of  Brooklyn  and  New 
York.  Dr.  Hatcher  probably  informed  him  that  his  vimt  to 
Bichmond  would  be  a  f  ulure  If  he  did  not  see  the  Boys  Meeting 
and  so,  in  a  few  minutes,  they  put  out  for  the  church. 

The  sight  of  such  a  large  number  of  laughing,  bright-eyed 
boys  seemed  to  stir  the  old  man.  The  sinfpng, — it  almost 
threatened  to  lift  him  off  his  feet  and  the  other  exer(nses  intei^ 
ested  him  immoisely.    The  boys  had  to  have  a  speech  from 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LEAVING  THE  HERALD  217 

that  Tudtor;  they  generally  chaif;ed  that  aa  the  price  of  ad- 
mia^on: — though  they  aaw  to  it  that  he  was  not  n^ected 
when  the  collecUon  was  taken  up.  He  consented  to  speak  and 
what  goldem  words  of  practical  wisdom  he  gave  us  in  a  quiet, 
unpretentious  talk. 

"Well  boys"  he  began  "I  was  called  on  to  speak  to  you  very 
unexpectedly  and  know  not  what  to  say  to  you.  I  a^ed  your 
pastor  to  givevne  a  subject  and  he  playfully  suggested  that  I 
tell  you  how  to  make  money.  But  no,  no;  that  is  too  mean  a 
thing  to  talk  about  on  Sunday.  And  yet  money  is  a  good 
thing  and  it  is  well  to  study  the  art  of  "xaking  and  using  money. 

"A  gentleman  asked  me  the  other  day  how  much  I  was  wortJi. 
I  replied  that  I  was  rich, — rich  beyond  the  power  of  computa^ 
tion.  I  told  him  that  I  had  a  happy  home  with  a  lovii^  wife 
and  eight  children — mx  of  them  boys — and  that  these  were 
my  jewels." 

Then  he  talked  along  for  perht^s  ten  of  fifteen  minutes 
and  the  boys  gave  him  great  attention.  It  was  an  interesting 
day  and  an  acquaintance  was  b^un  that  was  veiy  delightfully 
continued. 

Soon  after  his  return  to  Richmond  from  the  Southern  Baptist 
Convention  he  sevCTed  his  connection  with  the  Beligjous 
Herald.  This  editorial  task,  was  heavy  and,  with  his  pas- 
toral and  other  activities,  was  well  nigh  crushing.  It  was 
not  the  day  of  stenographers  and  typewritera— *t  least  in  any 
large  sense — and  the  two  or  Uiree  columns  each  week  were  the 
labor  of  his  own  pen, — except  when  he  dictated  to  his  wife  or 
children  at  home. 

"I  have  frequentiy  remarked  to  our  friends  that  you  looked 
tired  and  worn  and  I  was  afraid  that  the  burden  laid  upon  you 
was  greater  than  you  could  bear"  writes  a  gentleman  re- 
ferring to  his  many  duties.  He  did  at  times  look  "tired 
and  worn"  but  such  was  not  hia  normal  appearance. 

In  bis  Tenth  Anniversary  sermon,  in  May,  he  speaks  of  his 
pastorate  of  the  church  as  having  been  "the  heaviest  care  of 
my  life." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


218        "DR.  HATCHER'S  FOUR  BOYS" 

"Many  times"  said  he  "I  have  stf^gered  beneath  the  load 
and,  in  my  moments  of  depresdon  aud  embarrassment,  I  have 
felt  as  if  I  sighed  for  release.  But  the  hand  of  God  has  held 
me.  I  have  not  stwd  for  bread,  nor  honor  nor  necessity.  Other 
and  richer  and  easier  fields  have  sought  me  and  my  life  was 
bound  up  with  this  church.  There  have  been  times  when  I 
began  to  think  I  must  go,  but  Providence  has  fixed  it  other- 
wise." 

He  might  have  added  that  at  that  time  there  were  those  in 
the  church  that  were  adding  much  to  the  heaviness  of  his  load,  - 
but  he  thus  continued: 

"I  think  I  can  truly  say  that  my  heart  knows  nothing  but 
kindness  and  good  will  for  all  the  members  of  this  churoi.  I 
love  all  and  hate  none.   I  would  help  all  and  hurt  none." 

He  took  upon  himself  the  financial  support  of  four  ministerial 
students-in  addition  to  those  whom  he  was  already  helping. 
These  four  young  men — not  Vir^nians — had  come  to  the  CoU^e 
expecting  to  receive  ^d  from  the  Education  Board.  "We  can- 
not hdp  you  with  our  funds  if  you  are  not  from  Virginia"  eiud 
the  Board  to  them.  "We  are  not  permitted  to  do  so."  It 
was  a  dark  day  for  the  young  men,  but  Dr.  Hatcher  came  to 
their  rescue.  "They  seemed  to  be  so  bitterly  disappointed" 
he  said  "and,  withal,  were  so  bright  and  promising,  that  we 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  sending  them  away  and  then 
what?  Well,  this  overtaxed  scribe  assumed  the  burden  of  these 
young  mrai's  support  at  the  College,  trusting  that  somewhere 
in  the  great  out^de  world  there  would  rise  up  generous  friends 
to  help  me." 

This  was  in  the  Fall  of  1884.  Next  Summer  we  find  him 
still  carrying  the  burden  of  these  "four  preachers  boys,  "and 
seeking  to  secure  aid  for  them  for  the  next  session.  The  Herald 
correspondent  draws  a  picture  of  him  as  he  was  pleading  for 
them  at  an  Associati^m. 

"The  last  thing  we  saw  in  the  church  was  Dr.  Hatcher  taking 
a  collection  for  "his  boys"  (supplemental  to  the  one  he  had 
taken  in  the  yard  during  recess)  from  two  brethren  not  expecting 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


OIL  FOR  THE  RESTLESS  WAVES      219 

to  be  present  next  day  and  the  last  we  heard  at  the  depot,  as  the 
cars  were  rolling  up,  was  a  call  from  Dr.  Hatcher  (utting  in  the 
carriage  that  was  conveyii^  him  to  his  home)  for  a  collection 
from  ttiat  crowd  on  the  platform  for  "my  boys". 

He  had  a  gjft  for  quietii^  etorms  that  would  arise  in  As- 
sociational  meetings.  Sometimes  the  discussions  would  become 
tangled,  or  even  a  little  sharp,  and  he  seemed  always  to  have 
his  oil  can  ready  for  the  restless  waves. 

It  was  not  often  that  he  attended  an  association  that  he 
did  not  take  up  a  collection  to  cud  some  stniggUi^  interest. 
For  example,  during  the  Summer,  he  rtdsed  JIOOO  for  the 
Mountain  Plain  church  at  the  close  of  revival  meetings,  and 
at  the  Shenandoah  Association,  "Dr.  Hatcher  engineered  a 
collection  for  Winchester  and  raised  $295.50." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lC- 


CHAPTER  XX 

BDITORUL  C0RRB8P0NDEMCE.     CDLFEFER   UEETINQS.      WBEKLT 

LETTERS.      YOUNO  HEN  IN  HIS  HOKE.       LECTURE  TRIPS. 

THE  FRIEND  OF  CX)DNTHY  CHURCHES 


His  editorial  pen  was  growing  reatless'  and  consequently, 
when  at  this  time  he  received  an  invitation  to  be  contributiDg 
editor  of  the  Baltimore  Baptist — the  Baptist  state  pi^r  of 
Maryland — ^he  sent  them  his  acceptance  and,  in  a  short  -wiale, 
he  found  himself  addressing,  each  week,  a  wide  drcle  of  Vii^ 
ginia  readers. 

Among  the  congratulations  that  came  to  the  paper  for  having 
secured  Dr.  Hatcher  as  correspondent  was  one  from  Rev. 
Geoi^  Vanderlip,  closing  with  the  words 

"One  blast  upon  his  bugle  bom 
Were  worth  a  thousand  men." 

Dr.  Bwley,  of  the  "Biblical  Recorder,"  pronounced  him 
"the  most  gifted  and  popular  editor  in  the  South."  Every 
week  the  mful  had  to  carry  his  editorial  paragraphs  for  the 
Baltimore  Baptist.  He  generally  composed  these  writings 
at  his  home.  The  Baltimore  tnun  passed  by  our  house  and 
many  were  the  evenii^  that  I  heard  him  call  "Eldridge,  take 
this  letter  for  the  Baltimore  Baptist"  and  that  meant  that  I 
must  keep  on  the  lookout  for  the  northern  train  which  would 
stop  at  the  Elba  up-town  station  at  our  back  gate.  We  could 
easily  hear  the  ^igine  bell  as  the  train  crept  up  Belvidere 
Street,  and  I  could  wfut  until  it  reached  Grace  Street  and  them 
220 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  BALTIMORE  BAPTIST  221 

hurry  through  the  rear  gate  and  be  in  time  to  hand  in  the 
letter  at  the  miul  car.  He  waa  wliipped  to  and  fro  by  bo  many 
duties  and  suffered  so  many  interruptions,  that  he  sometimes 
found  himself  near  the  last  day  for  sending  his  weekly  matter 
for  the  paper  with  the  matter  still  unwritten,  and  on  such 
occaaons  he  would  hurry  home  and,  with  my  mother,  or  some 
one,  as  his  amanuensis,  he  would  drive  ahead  for  an  hour  or  two 
"before  the  train  comes"  and  frequently  he  would  add  the 
final  words  and  eeal  the  letter,  with  the  enipne  bell  over  on 
Franklin  Street  announcing  its  approach,  and  with  his  words 
"Uiere's  the  train;  hurry  now  my  lad." 

I  rarely  in  these  later  days  see  the  long  northern  train  pulling 
its  winding  way  across  Grace  Street  towards  Elba  that  I  do 
not  think  of  the  father  at  his  desk,  by  the  window,  hiurying 
his  pen  "along  the  Baptist  Unes"  and  the  boy  hastening  through 
the  back  gate  and  bangjng  on  the  door  of  the  mail  car  in  order 
that  the  important  letter  might  be  in  the  first  mail,  next  morn- 
ing, in  Baltimore.  He  wrote  during  these  years  frequently 
and,  for  awhile,  r^ularly  for  the  New  York  Examiner  and  many 
of  the  runs  for  the  mail  car  were  in  the  interest  of  the  New  York 
periodical. 

"Dr.  W.  K  Hatcher  will  begin  revival  meetings  next  Sunday 
at  the  Ilrst  Baptist  Church"  was  ihe  announcement  that 
traveled  the  streets  of  Ciilpeper  about  the  middle  of  November. 

The  day  arrived  and  Dr.  Hatcher  was  at  his  [xist  and  the 
campaign  b^an.  His  preaching  during  the  first  week  of  the 
meetings  seined  to  produce  no  effect.  The  people  listened 
req>ectfuUy  and  then  went  home.  "The  amdety  waa  oppres- 
ave"  he  siud.  He  prayed  and  preached  and  worked  but  the 
campaign  seemed  destined  to  meet  disaster. 

"At  length"  wrote  he  "the  cloud  broke.  For  several  days 
the  men  stood  in  serried  ranks  and  apparently  immoveable. 
Th^  packed  the  galleries  almost  to  suffocation.  There  they 
sat,  or  stood,  solemn,  silent  and  unshaken.  But  Monday  night 
th^r  ranks  b^an  to  waver  and  several  of  thdr  leaders  came 
over  the  line.   From  that  time  the  work  waa  easy.    Night  after 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


222  THE  CULPEPER  MEETINGS 

night,  men  and  boys  poured  down  out  of  the  gallery  and  pushed 
their  way  up  to  the  pulpit  to  make  thdr  confession  of  Christ, 
Oh,  it  was  glorious.  It  has  been  the  most  powerful  and  yet 
most  quiet  work  of  grace  that  I  have  ever  witnessed. 

"The  town  is  rin^g  with  hallelujahs.  It  was  a  new  raght  for 
Culpeper  for  whiskey  barrels  to  be  rolling  out  of  the  bar  rooms 
with  tii»r  contents  emptying  into  the  gutters  and  yet  that  was 
one  of  the  results  of  the  wonderful  meetings  just  closed." 

"Culpeper  has  never  before  felt  nor  witnessed  such  a  deep  and 
all  pervasive  religious  awakening  as  this"  wrote  the  pastor,  Dr. 
C.  F.  James,  in  the  Rehgious  Herald  "The  news  has  spread 
throughout  the  region  round  about  and  the  brethren  are  coming 
up  to  Culpeper  as  the  tribes  went  up  to  Jerusalem.  I  cannot 
be^n  to  describe  the  meeting.  It  is  the  most  remarkable  work 
of  grace  that  I  ever  saw.    FrEUse  God  from  whom  all  bles^ngs 


Such  experiences  put  Dr.  Hatcher  on  the  mountub  top.  He 
returned  to  his  church  with  the  echoes  of  the  revival  sngiiig 
in  hia  heart  and  his  own  people  felt  the  thrill  of  the  meetings  as 
he  told  to  them  the  story. 

In  the  early  months  of  1886  he  and  his  wife  wrote  tlie  Life 
of  Dr.  A.  B.  Brown, — his  wife  contributing  much  the  lai^er 
portion  of  the  work.  She  had  been  a  pupil  of  Dr.  Brown,  who 
in  his  last  years  had  been  the  brilliant  professor  of  Bn^lish 
in  Richmond  College  and  also  one  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  most  val- 
uable members  in  the  Grace  Street  Church.  He  wrote  the 
chapter  in  the  "Brown"  book  on  "The  Country  Pastor", 

He  was  elected  president  of  the  Baptist  Congress  which  met, 
in  the  first  part  of  March,  at  Danville,  Va. 

One  of  hia  most  highly  prized  friends  was  Dr.  J.  L.  M.  Cuny, 
at  that  time  United  States  Embassador  to  Spwn, — ^who, 
he  said,  "had  a  head  that  would  adorn  any  crown  on  earth." 

"Unitbd  States  Legation, 

"Madrid,  Spain,  7  March,  1886. 
"Dear  Bro.  Hatcher: 

"The  last  Herald  I  recdved  said  that  illness  kept  you  from 
the  Pastors  Conference.  I  know  what  a  privation  tiiat  must 
have  been  to  you  Emd  a  greater  one  to  them.    I  fear  you  have 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DR.  J.  L.  M.  CURRY  223 

been  overtaxing  your  powers,  or  that  the  excessive  labors 
of  last  and  foimer  years  are  be^imiiig  to  tell  on  you.  I  warned 
you  before  I  left  and  I  send  my  protest  aeain  over  the  waters. 
You  and  Harris  do  too  much  and  your  uves  are  too  valuable 
to  be  wasted 

"If  old  Grace  Street  Church  would  liberate  you  for  mx  months 
with  a  full  purse  and  send  you  along  with  Landrum,  I  might 
meet  you  in  France  and  be  your  guide  and  companion  for  a  few 
days. 

"I  miss  very  much,  too,  those  friendly  confidential  talks  Ve 
used  to  have  and  would  rather  take  with  you  and  Cbarhe  [C. 
H.]  Ryland  another  jaunt  to  "brother  Davy's"  than  to  see 
Alhambra,  or  the  Vatican.  It  may  cheer  you,  if  you  are  still 
sick,  for  me  to  say  you  have  done  me  much,  very  much  good 
in  my  Uf e  and  I  think  of  you  with  grateful  affection,  with  deep 
earnest  love.  I  picked  up  my  pen  just  to  say  that  and  having 
said  it  I  close. 

"Mrs.  Curry  begs  to  send  loving  remembrance  to  you  and 
Mrs.  Hatcher.  I  join,  of  course  most  heartily  and  include  the 
childrrai.  "Affectionately 

"J.  L.  M.  Curry." 

The  vifflt  of  Rev.  Dr.  F.  M.  Ellis  of  Baltimore  to  his  home 
and  his  church  at  this  time  was  to  him  a  happy  event  and 
opened  the  door  to  a  friendship  that  bound  them  together 
for  the  rest  of  their  days.    On  Saturday,  during  the  visit,  he 

took  Dr.  Ellis  in  company  with  Drs.  L and  P down 

the  river  on  a  fishing  excur^on.  Dr.  Hatcher  on  a  fistung  frolic 
presented  an  incongruity.  He  was  a  lover  of  certain  games  but 
the  sporting  el^nent,  so  rampant  in  his  brother  Havery,  seemed 
to  have  been  nitirely  left  out  of  him.  Walton  declares  that 
good  fisbenuan  are  like  poets,  bom  not  made.  In  Dr.  Hatcher's 
case  neither  nature  nor  art  inclined  him  towards  angling  and 
it  is  a  proof  of  his  love  of  good  fellowship  that  he  became  a 
member  of  the  fishing  party.    "It  was  an  off  day  with  the  fish" 

he  awd  "and  P was  the  only  man  who  interfered  with  the 

domestic  quiet  of  the  minnows.  >  He  claimed  to  be  the  here 
of  the  occasion  and  that  honor  was  voted  to  him  with  the 
understandii^  that  the  occaaou  was  a  ffulure." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


224  A  RED  FACED  VISITOE 

It  was  a  motley  throng  tlist  crossed  his  daily  pathj — as  is 
seen  from  the  following  two  incidents: 

"When  a  broad  breasted,  muscular,  red-faced  man,  with  a 
soiled  collar  and  a  breath  befouled  with  whiskey,  comes  into  our 
study  and  tells  us  how  much  his  mother  loves  us  and  how  popular 
we  are  in  his  section  of  the  country  and  how  everybody  is  dying 
to  see  us  and  bow  much  he  always  likes  to  hear  us  preach  and 
how  successful  he  had  been  in  busness  and  then  closes  his 
discoui^e  with  a  pathetic  request  that  we  will  lend  him  two 
dollars  we  grow  a  trifle  crabbed  and  begin  to  think  that,  after 
all,  there  may  be  more  in  the  Darwinian  theory  than  a  great 
many  people  think.  At  the  same  time  we  do  not  lend  him  the 
two  dollars.  That  is  fixed.  We  believe  in  helping  the  poor 
and  conmder  lendii^  money  a  christian  virtue  but  the  man  who 
gets  our  two  dollars  must  at  least  have  the  right  kind  of  breath." 

"He  stormed  like  a  volcano  and  his  wrath  was  at  white  heat- 
He  fell  upon  us  and  told  us  witJi  vigorous  indignation  how  bad 
he  thougjit  we  were.  We  enjoyed  it.  We  always  respect  an 
honestly  mad  man.  His  wrath  is  a  token  of  his  sincenty. 
There  was  somethii^  so  charming  in  his  realness  and  candor 
that  we  almost  forgot  that  we  were  the  target  at  which  the 
blows  were  directed.  When  he  finished  we  simply  explEuned  to 
him  how  it  all  happened,  the  storm  cloud  broke  and  the  genial 
sunlight  was  on  his  brow  agfun. 

"If  we  must  get  angry  let  us  do  it  hotly  and  courageously. 
Iiet  us  blaze  like  a  furnace  and  go  for  the  object  of  our  anger 
at  once.  In  this  way  we  may  finish  up  the  business  in  a  dngle 
day  and  the  setting  day  sun  will  not  see  the  war  cloud  on  our 
brow." 

He  wired  Ins  beloved  friend,  Dr.  H.  H.  Wyer,  that  Bichmond 
College  had  confered  ui>on  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divini^. 
Dr.  Wyer's  r^ly  was  as  follows: 

"I  received  the  telegram  with  your  name  signed  to  it  con- 
gratulating, me  on  the  honor  recently  confeired  on  me  by 
Richmond  Collie.  There  was  a  storm  coming  up  at  the  time 
the  boy  handed  me  on  the  street  the  telegram  and  if  the  light- 
ning had  struck  in  ten  feet  of  me  I  could  not  have  been  more 

grow  older  I  cling  more  closdy  to  the  friends  of  my 


surprised. 
'^I8 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


WEEKLY  LETTERS  225 

earlier  life.  God  has  indeed  blessed  me  with  some  of  the  traeet 
and  best.  At  the  head  of  the  liat  stands  my  beloved  W.  E,  H. 
It  is  more  than  twenty  five  years  ^ce  we  were  first  thrown 
intimately  together  and  all  that  time  I  have  had  for  you  an 
earnest  afTection,  which  has  never  known  let,  doud,  or  biad- 
rance. 

"Yours  Sincerely 

"H.  H.  Wyer." 

"Last  Thursday"  he  writes  "the  Taylors,  George  the  First 
and  Geoi^  the  second,  gladdened  our  abode  with  their  pres- 
ence and  with  them  came  a  lot  of  their  friends.  It  was  a 
picnic  of  the  best  Etort,  to  ua  at  least.  We  have  many  earthly 
pleasures, — not  one  of  which  we  deserve, — but  we  incline  to 
the  opinion  that  our  joy  never  touches  the  flood  except  when 
we  can  gather  a  band  of  Baptist  preachers  around  our  dinner 
tt^le.  We  have  never  yet  found  a  class  of  men  who  could  so 
fully  command  our  love  and  confidence." 

In  October  I  went  to  Chesterfield  County  to  teach  in  an 
Academy, — an  event  which  started  a  procession  of  weekly 
letters  to  me,  from  him  and  from  my  mother,  that  continued, 
with  but  little  interruption,  to  the  end  of  his  life.  These 
letters,  carefully  stored  away,  constituted  for  me  an  accumu- 
lating and  sacred  treasure  pile.  I  cannot  remember  when  the 
thought  first  came  to  me  that  I  would  write  his  biography,  but, 
as  his  life  loomed  hi^er  and  higher  before  me,  the  thought 
grew  into  a  consuming  ambition.  My  heart  would  leap  at  the 
prospect  of  putting  such  a  life  before  the  world  and  I  began 
keeping,  not  only  all  his  letters,  but  nearly  all  the  pf^rs  contain- 
ing the  products  of  his  pen.  He  knew  near  the  end  of  his  life 
that  I  expected  to  writo  his  biography,  but  he  newly  always 
tried  to  laugh  out  of  court  any  suggestion  that  his  life  might  be 
w(»th  writing  or  that  anything  he  did  was  worth  recordii^ 
and,  even  at  that  late  date,  I  never  dared  to  ask  him  to  keep 
cofnes  of  hie  letters  for  such  a  puipose, — and  he  never  did. 

He  settled  upon  Sunday  ni^t  as  the  time  for  writing  to  me. 
His  first  act  upon  reaching  home  from  the  night  service  would 
be  to  read  the  Sunday  paper,  which  was  always  put  in  its  place 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


226  COLLEGE  SCRAGS 

by  Me  desk  at  the  window  in  the  front  second  story  bed  room, 
which  was  also  the  family  sitting  room.  After  reading  the 
paper  he  would  say  "Well,  I  miist  write  to  Eldridge  and  away 
would  go  hia  pen,~his  letters  avera^ng  about  eight  pagee  in 
length.  They  were  written  with  his  own  hand  and  at  the  end 
of  days  of  heavy  strain  and  toil  and  would  recite  first  the  evente 
of  the  Sabbath  just  closing. 

He  evidently  had  a  small  ocean  of  duties  surrounding  him 
as  he  penned  the  following  warning  in  the  "Baltunore  Baptist." 

"Whereas  the  vacation  of  this  humble  scribe  is  now  at  an  ead 
and  whereas  his  pastoral  duties  will  claim  every  hour  of  his  time, 
therefore  resolved  that  no  man,  woman,  child,  beast  of  the  field, 
bird  of  the  ^r,  fish  of  the  sea,  nor  any  other  Uving  thing  on, 
or  under,  the  earth,  no  Baptist  preacher,  or  any  other  person, 
place,  or  thing,  shall  ask  at  his  hands  any  outside  service  from 
this  time  forth  until  the  first  of  August  1887.  The  motion  has 
been  unanimously  adopted  and  the  meetii^  is  adjourned." 

In  his  first  letter  to  me  wlucb  here  follows  he  speaks  of 
"Collie  Scrags".  On  Sunday  aftemoima  and  evenings  the 
back  parlor  would  resound  with  the  laughter  and  clatter  of  the 
yoimg  folks,  among  whom  would  frequently  be  Coll^^  atud^its 
who  were  calling  upon  his  daughtere  and  about  whom  he  often 
joked  the  girls  calling  them  "Collie  Scrags".  The  names  of 
his  daughters  in  the  order  of  thw'  ages  were,  May,  One,  Kate, 
lizEie  and  Edith. 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Oct.  3rd,  1886. 
"My  Dear  Eldridoe: 

"Sunday  night  this  is.  We  are  just  from  church.  Fine  day 
we  had — lai^e  crowds  and  I  enjoyed  preaching.  May  has 
been  very  sick  and  I  expect  she  will  have  to  go  to  the  country 
again.  She  and  Kate  have  run  quite  a  living  trade  in  College 
Scrags  today.    Kate  seems  to  be  quite  a  toast. 

"I  am  anxious  to  hear  how  your  school  opens.  ...  If 
your  school  is  not  full  I  may  be  able  to  send  you  one  or  two 
more.  If  you  take  a  boy  as  your  room  mate  be  car^uI  in  your 
selection. 

"I  hope  you  went  to  Sunday  School  today.  Take  hold  and 
do  your  best  for  the  church.  "Yours, 

"W.  E.  H." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HELPING  YOXJNG  MEN  227 

His  setxHid  letter  follows  quicidy  upon  the  heels  of  bis  first 
ODe  and,  Lo,  it  tells  of  another  happpy  burden  which  bis 
shoulders  have  t^en.  It  is  a  young  man,  hungry  for  College, 
bunting  to  preach  the  gospel,  but  utterly  lacking  the  means. 
"Come  into  my  home"  Sfud  Dr.  Hatcher  to  him  "I  will  find  some 
w^  in  which  you  can  help  me  and  in  this  way  you  can  earn 
your  board."  The  young  man  is  now  a  useful  pastor  in  one  of 
the  Southern  states.  Here  is  a  letter  from  the  grat^ul  mother 
of  the  young  man  to  Dr.  Hatcher: 

"Mt  Dear  Fsibnd: 

"I  am  bound  to  burden  you  again  with  the  scratch  of  my  pen. 
You  have  so  recently  done  us  another  and  still  another  act  of 
kindness  and  I  cannot  let  it  appear  unappreciated.  .  .  Ob; 
that  we  could  show  in  some  way  how  deeply  we  do  feel  it.  As 
it  is  I  can  only  aay  'The  Lord  bless  you.'  I  wonder  if  those  boys 
will  ever  make  the  meu  we  would  like  for  them  to  be. 

"Sometimes  I  feel  like  shouting;  sometimes  I  feel  like  weep- 
ing." 

"Hundreds  of  young  men  in  the  ministry"  writes  Dr.  W.  W. 
Landrum  "were  asasted  by  William  E.  Hatcher  in  financial 
ways.  Assemble  them  in  front  of  Grace  Street  church,  and  they 
will  outnumber  the  noble  corps  of  cadete  that  drills  on  the 
campus  of  Fork  Uniou  Military  Academy,  which  he  loved  so 
weU." 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Oct.  6th,  1886. 
"Mt  Dmr  E: 

"Things  may  not  go  agree^ly,  always,  but  you  keep  cool  and 
wait. 

"You  must  cultivate  pleasant  social  relations  with  the 
people.  Do  some  vi^ting  and  be  attenlave  and  friendly. 
Iiearn  to  love  people. 

"C mil  board  with  us.    Why  this  is  I  will  fully 

explain  later.     I  am  helping  tum  at  College  and  can  do  it 
better  this  way.  ' 

"Youra,       Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

This  practice  of  taking  some  (me  in  his  home  for  the  help  that 
he  could  ^ve  him  was  a  life  long  habit  with  him.  His  wife 
said  "At  one  time  it  WM  the  daughter  of  a  coimtiy  pastor  whom 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


228  HELPING  BOYS 

he  tobk  into  bis  Kotn^,  that  she  might  have  an  education,  givii^ 
her  her  board  and  other  help.  There  was  seldom  a  period  in 
bis  Me,  t^ter  be  became  a  pastor,  that  he  did  not  have  m  his 
home  Bome  boy,  or  girl,  until  they  went  dut  to  CoHege,  or 
underti5ok  #ork  for  themselves.     He  kept  some  boy  m  his 

hotfse,  in  Manchester,  all  during  his  IHe  there 

almost  living  there.  This  last  named  one  he  helped  financially 
and  socially  until  he  became  a  cashier  and  at  the  last  turned 
against  him."  It  was  indeed  a  melancholy  fact  that  not  all  t^e 
boys  whom  he  helped  reached  the  top  of  the  ladder.  Some 
disappointed  him,  some  proved  unworthy  of  his  help  and  some 
were  ui^ateful.  But  these  facts  seemed  not  to  discur^;e 
nor  check  him  in  his  beloved  task  of  helpfuhiess. 

"It  is  another's  fault,  if  he  be  ungrateful"  says  Seneca  "but 
it  is  mine  if  I  do  not  give." 

Rev.  P.  G.  Elsom,  now  a  well  known  and  very  useful  evange- 
list, writes: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  took  me  in  Ms  delightful  home  608  W.  Grace  St. 
Bichmond,  Va.  when  I  was  a  student  at  Richmond  College. 
God  alone  knows  the  influence  of  this  christian  home  on  ray 
life  and  ministry.  The  love  I  have  today  for  evangelistic  work 
dates  back  to  Dr.  Hatcher's  bome,  when  I  breathed  that  at- 
mosphere of  his  love  for  soul  winning." 

No  one  can  appreciate  bis  ministry,  during  his  Grace  Street 
pastorate,  without  understanding  that  almost  every  week,or 
two,  lie  was  out  in  the  state,  "lecturing"  chiefly  at  countiy 
and  town  churches.  These  lectures  were  generally  accompanied 
by  an  admisdon  fee  at  the  door  and  by  "refresbmants"  served 
by  the  good  ladies  of  the  church  at  the  close  of  bis  performance. 
All  over  the  state  were  the  country  churches  strug^ing  with 
th^  financial  burdens  and  oftimes  the  lady  workers,  restless 
because  tb^r  gifts  were  so  inadequate,  would  say  "Let  us  get 
Dr.  Batcher  for  a  lecture"  and  tbey  generally  were  successful 
in  tiieir  plea. 

There  were  always  people  who  would  decry  such  schemes  for 
money  raiong  as  the  ladies  pursued  with  tbeir  refreshments  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


COOKING  STOVE  APOSTASY        229 

oyster  suppers  after  the  lecture.  The  newspspera  dubbed  it 
the  "Cooking  Stave  Aposta^'  and  he  had  his  critics  at  hifi 
heels.    He  writes  in  the  Baptist  Woild : 

"No,  we  are  no  champion  of  festive  methods  of  raisdng  money 
for  christian  purposes.  If  the  men  will  fill  the  Lord's  chest 
with  money,  we  will  keep  quiet  about  feasts,  bazaars,  carnivals, 
etc,.  But  it  puts  an  angry  heat  in  our  total  anatomy  to  bear  ihe 
jaundiced  and  superpious  utter  their  scourging  sneers  f^ainst 
those  who  undertake  to  make  money  for  the  Lord  by  selling 
oysters  and  cream.  To  us  such  twaddle,  though  veiled  under 
the  guise  of  imusual  sanctity,  is  most  preposterous  and  cruel,. 

"We  have  a  friend  who  sells  hay,  mill-feed  and  flour.  It  is 
his  buaness  bo  sell  and  he  prospers  in  it  and  he  g^vea  a  tenth 
of  his  profits  to  religious  purposes.  He  is  praised  for  his  marked 
liberality  and  is  called  a  prince  in  Isreal,. 

"The  man's  wife  keeps  house.  But  she  is  president  of  a  prl's 
misEPonary  sodety  and  teaches  girls  to  make  r^ular  offerings 
for  spreading  the  gospel.  It  often  comes  to  pass  that  the  good 
woman  feels  sad  that  she  gets  so  little  money  for  various  pur- 
poses and  she  loi^^  for  more.  Once  a  year  she  bakes  cake, 
makes  jelly  and  cream  and  prepares  some  choice  oysters,  coSee, 
etc.,  and  gets  some  of  her  chnstian  sisters  to  hdp  her.  The 
girls  get  flowers,  make  candy  and  bring  products  of  their  fingers' 
skill  and  all  th^e  are  exposed  for  sale.  Friends  come  in  and 
buy  these  UiingB— and  for  what?  Who  gets  the  money?  Not 
the  women;  not  the  girls.  They  do  it  all  and  pve  it  all, — not 
one  tenth,  but  all — to  the  kingdom  of  God  and  yet  behold: 
There  be  some  denounce  the  sacred  trading  of  the  woman  as 
if  it  were  a  sacrilege.  Away  with  the  jprumbling.  She  hath 
done  what  she  could." 

Regarding  his  lecture  trips  he  writes: 

"Sometimes  I  paid  my  own  fare,  gave  all  the  income  of  tlie 
lecture  to  the  suffering  church  and  had  a  day  of  deficious  f<j- 
iowship  with  the  httle  band  of  christian  workers. 

"As  a  rule  they  would  pay  my  expenses  which  were  calculated 
with  skillful  accuracy  so  as  to  avoid  ^ving  me  too  little  and 
now  and  then  I  would  be  surprised  to  find  some  actual  oom- 
pensatjon  in  the  little  wad  of  greenbacks  which  would  be 
thrust  into  my  hands  as  I  was  startup  oa  my  return." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


230  LECTURES 

"Be  not  disturbed,  ye  gentle  and  generous  Chriatian  women" 
he  writes  at  another  time  "go  right  along  with  your  valiant 
struggle  to  advEuice  the  Lord'a  kingdom.  Do  not  hesitate  to 
sell  strawberries  or  aprons  or  fruit-cake.    Sell  at  good  market 

E rices,  sell  good  artjeles,  sell  to  saint  and  sinner  and  even  to 
utatics  if  they  are  not  too  dyspeptic  to  digest  such  allowable 
delicacies.    God  be  with  you." 

The  largest  burden  on  his  heart  was  the  needy  churches 
through  the  state. 

For  example,  here  are  two  letters, — ^written,  one  on  the  25th 
and  the  other  on  the  27th — ^which  happened  to  be  found  among 
his  papers.  They  are  merely  specimens  of  hundreds  of  nmilar 
appeals  that  Socked  in  his  mail.  The  first  is  from  a  pastor 
in  Campbell  county: 

"Dear  Dr.  Hatcher: 

"Could  you  not  arrange  to  come  up  here  and  dedicate  a  nice 
Dew  house  of  worship  for  us  Baptists?  It  is  finished,  painted 
wid  ready  for  use.  We  will  leave  the  time  entirely  with  you 
but  the  sooner  the  better.  I  would  like  for  you  to  come  above 
all  others  for  I  do  not  believe  there  is  a  minister  in  the  Umted 
States  who  could  do  the  work  for  the  Baptist  Cause  that  you 
might  do  in  three  of  four  days.     .     .     ." 

The  second  letter  is  from  a  pastor  in  lower  Virginia: 

"My  Dear  Doctor: 

"We  lay  the  first  brick  on  our  new  church  tomorrow.  Our 
working  capital  is  not  S500.  Yet  we  feel  that  we  must  begin. 
I  write  to  ask  of  you  a  favor  that  you  will  agree  to  champion 
our  cause  at  the  General  Association  next  Fail  and  also  at  the 
Portsmouth  Association.  A  word  or  two  in  the  Herald  might 
help  also.  I  know  that  I  have  no  claim  upon  you  for  these  aids 
except  brotherly  kindness;  still  I  feel  that  I  owe  it  to  my  breth- 
ren to  ask  you.  If  I  could  see  you  in  person  and  have  a  talk 
with  you  sJxtut  what  our  people  did  in  two  and  a  half  years 
previous  to  the  burning  of  the  church  I  think  our  claim  would 
in  many  respect  take  the  precedence  of  others.  .  .  Please 
^ve  me  your  advice  about  coming  to  Richmond  during  the 
Summer." 

Imafpne  letters  like  these  comii^  upon  him  every  week. 
What  a  strun  on  his  sympathies  and  what  a  pull  on  his  heart 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HELPING  THE  COUNTRY  CHURCH    231 

strii^.  Each  pastor  who  wrote  thought  he  had  a  supreniely 
urgent  need  and  each  seemed  to  feel  that  if  he  could  get  Dr. 
Hatcher  euUsted  in  his  behalf  that  he  had  made  a  long  stride 
towards  victory.  His  soul  often  melted  within  him  at  the 
thought  of  these  struggling  pastors.  He  hui^red  to  go  to  thdr 
aid;  and  he  went — ^went  often  when  many  of  hia  members 
thought  he  ought  not  to  go — often  when  his  friends  and  some 
times  when  hia  family  thought  he  ought  not  to  go — but  he 
went — to  the  undying  joy  of  many  a  struggling  country  church 
and  pastor. 

"No  man  in  the  past  half  century"  writes  Dr.  C.  H,  Hemdon 
"has  rendered  such  conspicuous,  unselfish  and  useful  service 
among  the  country  churches  in  Virginia  as  Dr.  Hatcher  has 
done.  .  .  He  went  all  over  the  state,  dedicating  churches, 
holding  meetings  delivering  addresses  and  lectures.  The  most 
obscure  and  feeble  church  could  secure  his  services  as  readily 
as  the  strong  and  prominent  pulpit.  Indeed  his  joy  seemed  to 
be  to  give  his  stretch  to  the  weak  churches." 

It  would  frequently  h^ipen  that  members  of  his  church 
would  call  at  o\ir  house  to  see  him  while  he  was  out  of  the  city 
and  sometimes  their  countenances,  if  not  their  hps,  would 
say  "What;  gone  again?" 

One  of  bis  beloved  deacons  thought  that  he  ought  to  reform 
his  pastor  in  the  matter  of  his  goings  but  he  soon  found  that 
his  labors  of  love  in  that  direction  were  in  vain.  Often  when 
calling  for  Dr.  Hatcher  and  learning  from  "sister  Hatcher" 
that  the  Doctor  was  out  at  some  country  church  preaching 
or  lecturing  he  would  shake  his  head  as  if  he  feared  that  his 
pastor  was  defying  providence  and  brii^ng  disaster  upon  him- 
self and  his  church. 

"My  deacons"  said  he  "used  to  sit  up  with  my  case  wondering 
whether  I  was  beyond  redemption,  now  and  then  sending  one 
of  their  number  to  labor  with  me.  He  generally  Mided  his 
interview  by  apologizing  for  his  intrusion  stoutly  maintaining 
that  he  believed  that  the  indications  of  Providence  were  on  my 
dde.     .     .    When  I  began  my  Richmond  pastorate  I  told  my 


D.qit.zeaOvGoQt^lc 


232         "GOING  AWAY  TOO  OFTEN" 

church  at  the  time  of  my  installation  that  the  cry  of  the  churches 
for  my  help  rang  for  me  like  the  voice  of  God  and  that  they 
might  as  well  understuid  that  they  would  have  trouble  with  me 
on  ^at  score,  as  long  as  they  held  on  to  me." 

He  was  taUdi^  one  day  to  his  Sunday  School  missionary 
Vivian  McEenuon,  about  the  comfort  it  gave  him  to  drop  his 
burdens  and  run  out  to  the  home  of  one  of  his  friends  in  the 
country  near  Richmond  and  there,  under  the  trees,  make  his 
aennon  for  Sunday,  and  thus  he  Continued: 

"I  can  do  better  thinking  and  working  in  that  quiet  place' 
Of  course  I  do  not  tell  everybody  every  time  I  go.  I  would 
not  steal  away.  I  would  not  be  pastor  of  a  church,  if  I  had  to 
sneak  away  from  them;  but  I  do  not  go  all  around  every  time 
publishing  the  fact  of  my  d^arture." 

He  made  the  last  remark  with  a  smile,  and  then  added: 

"The  other  day  I  told  David  to  hitch  up  my  bu^y.  I 
jumped  in  and  started  for  the  depot  to  take  a  trip  into  the 
country.  As  I  was  driving  rapidly  down  the  street  what  should 
I  see  coming  around  the  comer  but  the  head  of  a  horse  that 
I  well  knew,  and  right  in  front  of  me  hove  in  sigbt  my  bdoved 
deacon  F in  his  bugey^. 

"  'You  going  away,  Doctorr  he  asked  somewhat  mournfully. 

"  'Yes' I  replied. 

"  'Will  you  be  here  Simday?'  he  asked. 

"  'I  expect  to  be.  If  I  should  not  be  here  I  will  have  someone 
in  my  place;  but  it  is  my  definite  purpose  now  to  be  on  hand.' 

"  'Well,  Doctor'  said  he  'this  is  becoming  aerious.  You  go 
away  so  often.' 

"  'F '  said  I  almost  sternly  'I  am  going  out  there 

under  the  trees  to  study  my  sermon  and  g«t  my  sdf  in  better 
shape  for  Sunday.  You  go  bade  home  and  attend  to  your 
family  and  be  a  good  man.  I  warn  you  if  you  follow  me  around 
and  seek  to  stop  me  on  my  trips  I  will  brii^  you  up  before  tiie 
church  meeting  and  turn  you   out,'  and  then  Dr.  Hatcher 

added  with  a  smile  'F looked  as  sober  as  if  he  had 

been  to  a  funeral.'  " 

Ofttimes  objections  would  be  heard  from  his  members  about 
his  frequent  trips  out  into  the  state  for  lectures  and  protracted 
meetings.    But  the  "going"  and  the  "helping"  fever  was  in  him 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  FRIEND  OF  COUNTRY  CHURCHES  233 

80  strongly  that  he  had  to  go  and  he  felt  sure  that  in  the  long 
run  his  church  would  not  be  the  loaer. 

"When  1  was  a  etudent  at  Richmond  Collie"  writes  Dr. 
J.  J,  Wicker,  "I  had  two  churches  in  Carohne  County.  One 
of  these  churches,  Mt.  Horeb,  needed  a  new  church  building. 
The  people  were  all  poor  and  the  congregation  small,  but  we 
stroked  along  and  got  the  building  half  finished  and  under 
cover  so  we  could  worship  within  its  humble  walls.  We  needed 
help.  The  Dover  Association  met  that  year  at  Cool  Spring 
Church  in  Hanover  County.  We  wrote  Dr.  Hatcher  and  asked 
him  if  he  would  come  out  and  lecture,  the  lecture  to  take  place 
the  day  after  the  Association.  Of  course  he  would  come.  He 
never  turned  down  an  opportunity  to  help  the  needy  if  it  was 
possible  for  him  to  help.  Wednesday  night,  during  the  As- 
sociation, Dr.  Hatcher  returned  to  Grace  Street  Church  of 
which  he  was  pastor  to  conduct  his  prayer  meeting.  Grace 
Street  church  had  a  hard  and  fast  rule  about  taking  collections 
for  outffide  calls,  but  if  there  was  ever  a  man  who  knew  how  to 
flank  the  enemy's  movements  in  a  church  that  man  was  Wil- 
ham  E.  Hatcher.  He  lectured  at  my  church,  Mt.  Horeb.  The 
whole  country  turned  out  to  hear  him.  We  had  dinner  on  the 
ground  and  when  we  rounded  up  the  cash  Dr.  Hatcher  pulled 
out  a  handkerchief  full  of  greenbacks  and  silver  and  said  'Add 
this  to  the  pile.  I  got  it  from  my  folks  for  you  on  Wednesday 
night.'  We  count^  it,  $58.00  and  when  we  started  to  pay 
him  for  his  services  he  smd  'No;  it  has  been  a  great  joy  to  be 
with  you.'  " 

Regarding  his  atw^Lces  he  said  "My  peoi^  came.  .  .to 
welcome  me  after  my  prolonged  absences  by  telling  me  that 
I  alw^^  brought  them  bottles  of  the  old  wine  of  the  Kingdom 
when  I  came  back  from  the  gospel  feasts  of  the  o^her  churches. 
.  .  .  In  some  unexpltuncd  and  bles.sed  way  my  soul  would 
get  chained  with  a  mes.sage — ^heaven  must  have  given  it  to 
me — ^wbiph  was  the  very  bread  of  life  to  the  thronging  crowds 
which  never  failed  to  meet  oie.  Their  welcoming  smile,  their 
eager  hand  grasp  and  even  their  chidings  made  my  pastorate 
a  song  whose  enriching  notes  seemed  full  of  the  world  unseen." 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


CHAPTER  XXI 

1886-1887 

CHUSCH    TBODBLES.      COLLBCTIONS     IN    HIS    CaUhOS.      TBE    CRLB* 
BRATBD  CL HUKDER  CABE. 

He  added  a  Mexican  to  his  list  of  beneficiaries.  He  was 
studying  at  the  Louisville  Seminary  and  dedred  to  eame  to  Rich- 
mond College  to  prepare  himself  for  the  ministry,  with  a  view 
to  doing  misaonary  work  in  his  own  country.  He  wrote  to 
Dr.  Hatcher,  who  finally  agreed  to  undertake  to  "see  him 
through".  On  the  Sunday  after  his  arrival,  he  put  him  up  for 
a  speech  in  the  Sunday  school  and  he  wrote  me: 

"The  Mexican  made  a  speech  and  captured  everybody.  He 
is  a  bright  fellow. 

"Your  absence  is  a  great  loss  to  me  and  I  miss  you  far  more 
than  1  would  like  to  say.  But  it  is  a  kind  providence  which 
opened  a  place  for  you  so  near  home  so  you  can  come  often  and 
in  this  way  harden  us  for  that  separation  which  must  come 
inevitably  after  awhile.  .  ,  I  am  greatly  taxed  this  week. 
I  lecture  at  Collie  on  Thursday  and  epeak  at  Social  Union 
that  night.  I  am  at  work  on  Dr.  Jeter's  life.  These,  with  my 
editorial  work  and  my  sermons  and  my  visiting,  crowd  me  to 
the  liigbest  point." 

At  this  time  the  "diaturbing  element"  in  tiie  church  was 
^ving  him  much  trouble.  "Your  Papa  and  I  both  bad  a  sort 
of  restless  night"  writes  my  mother  on  Oct.,  29th,  and  then, 
after  telling  of  some  of  the  worries  caused  by  certain  members, 

she  adds:    "X is  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  hia  paator    .    . 

Your  Papa  writes  every  night  on  tiie  Jeter  book." 
aS4 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PARLIAMENTARY  LAW  235 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Nov.  5th,  1886. 
"Mt  Dk4E  E: 

"The  inTitation  to  preade  at  the  Bfq>tist  Congreee  (in 
Baltimore)  was  an  amasing  surpriae  to  me  as  I  am  au^  a  poor 
stick  for  such  a  busoess,  but  honors  are  empty  and  I  think  not. 
much  of  them." 

He  r^arded  himself  as  hopelessly  incapable  of  mastering 
the  parliamantary  art. 

"For  my  humble  part"  says  he  "I  make  bold  to  say  that 
Parliamentary  Law,  while  having  its  value,  never  suited  me. 
In  some  way  my  mind  shut  up  its  windows  and  barricaded  its 
doors  when  ever  there  was  a  parliamentary  tangle.  Its  cease- 
less clatter  about  amendments,  substitutes,  previous  questions, 
and  other  such  contradicting  bothers  invariably  vexed  my 
mind  and  bred  offensive  dbnfufflon." 

On  one  occamon,  in  some  religious  gathering — probab^  a 
(^strict  Assodation — he  was  called  to  the  chair  to  pretdde 
temporarily.  A  littie  oonfumon  in  the  discusraon  aro«e;  a 
di^utatious  brotiier  began  to  make  a  point  of  order  in  some- 
what blustering  fashion.  Dr.  Hatcher  reported  the  inddent 
somewhat  as  follows:  "For  the  life  of  me  and  with  my  crude 
little  stock  of  parliamentary  knowledge,  I  did  not  know  who  was 
right,  in  the  contention,  but  I  drew  up  a  resolution  with  myself 
that  the  belligerent  delegate  was  in  the  wrong  and  I  so  an- 
ttounced.  I  had  no  ground  for  my  dec^on  ezcefit  the  cut  of 
the  brother's  eye  and  the  crack  of  his  voice,  but  I  determined 
that  I  would  hold  grimly  to  my  dedm<m  that  he  was  out  of  order. 
I  cannot  tell  how  I  managed  to  weather  the  storm  but  it 
seemed  as  one  of  the  proofs  of  a  special  providence  for  the 
ignorant  that  I  came  to  the  end  with  my  deinmoQ  m,  perfect 
shape  and  my  colors  flying." 

My  mother,  in  her  next  letter,  refers  to  the  "Philistines," 
which,  being  interpreted,  means  those  particular  members 
in  the  church  who  yrere  opposing  and  worrying  the  pastor,  and 
had  been  dmng  this,  more  or  less  continuously,  for  nearly 
ten  years.    During  this  long  period  he  had  been  working  under 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


236  CHURCH  TROUBLES 

the  sting  and  laeh  of  these  factional  influmces.  I  well  re- 
member how,  as  a  boy,  after  hearing  father  and  mother  talk 
aromid  the  fire  at  night  about  these  diBturbers  and  after  sedng 
the  anxiety  that  it  caused  him,  I  would  boil  with  fury  agunst 
the  recalcitrants.  It  weighed  on  my  mind  and  on  Sundays 
during  the  time  that  my  father  was  preaching  my  mind  would 
be  employed  chiefly  in  wondering  how  the  eenaon  was  strik- 
ing the  b^^erents. 

My  mother's  letter  to  me  of  Nov.  lOtii,  ran  as  follows: 

"You  know  I  wrote  you  that  the  Philistines  had  heea  at 

work.    C seems  to  be  the  tool  of  ihe  party.    They 

have  tried  their  hand  on  Mr.  A ,  with  what  success 

I  know  not.  He  talks  freely  to  your  Papa  and  Beems  friendly 
but  I  have  my  suspicions.  .  .  .  The  situation  is  un- 
pleasant and  gives  us  trouble.  We  do  not  talk — try  to  be  quiet 
and  trustful — ^whether  there  will  be  any  outcome  from  it  we 
cannot  tell. 

"Last  Sunday  your  Papa  preached  on  the  text,  'He  shall  ^ve 
his  angels  charge  over  thee.'  I  never  heard  him  preach  better. 
He  seemed  to  have  power  given  him  to  speak  the  truths  of  the 
gospel.  He  said  only  those  had  the  body  guard  of  angels  to 
attend  them  who  walked  in  the  way  of  the  Lord, — none  other 
need  flatter  themselves  that  they  would  have  a  celestial  guajd 
to  prevent  their  dashing  their  feet  against  stones.  He  seemed 
to  be  almost  in^ired  said  he  enjoyed  preaching  more  than 
usual.  Rev.  John  Bagby  came  last  night  and  Dr.  Owen  will 
arrive  tonight." 

In  writing  about  the  Baptist  Congress,  at  the  Eutaw  Place 
Church  in  Baltimore,  over  which  he  presided,  he  said  "My 
duties  as  president,  were,  like  my  honors,  very  light."  In 
Miother  place  he  touches  up  his  Baltimore  visit  in  playful 
fashion.    He  calls  it  "a  festival  of  delight"  and  then  adds: 

"It  is  true  that  when  they  perched  us  up  behind  the  floral 
barricade  at  the  Eutaw  Place  pulpit  and  we  essayed  the  awk- 
ward role  of  speaker  of  the  House  we  felt  that  Nature,  or  some- 
body else,  had  committed  a  blunder  in  putting  us  there,  but 
when  we  could  quit  the  meeting,  slip  atross  tiie  square  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHURCH  TROUBLES  237 

take  refuge  in  the  happy  home  of  brother  Eugene  Levering 
and  when  the  Baltimore  Baptists  swarmed  around  and  gave 
us  old  time  handshakes  and  when  we  went  to  Baptist  head- 
quarters and  saw  Wharton,  Barron,  Weishampel  and  Wood- 
ward and  when  we  went  to  the  Social  Union  and  saw  the  Bap- 
tist crowd  and  sat  by  the  beloved  Hiram  Woods  at  the  banquet 
table  and  were  so  lovingly  greeted  by  the  'old  Shepherd,' 
EUis,  Rowland,  Dixon  and  the  rest  we  fdt  that  it  was  good  to 
be  there.  This  is  a  breath-taking  sentence  but  it  takes  a  big 
sentence  to  tell  the  glories  that  belong  to  the  brother  who  takes 
a  visit  to  Baltimore.  We  return  thanks  to  all  concerned  and 
love  them  better  than  ever  before." 

My  mother  writes  dn  NoT'.22nd: 

"In  the  midat  of  the  wickedness  o^  some  of  the  members  the 
Lord  seems  to  be  blessing  him  with  the  ear  of  the  people.  I 
sometimes  wish  that  his  friends  would  stop  telling  him  what 

the party  say.    He  says  it  will  not  hurt  hSn  for  them 

to  tell  falsehwds  on  him — but  it  worries  me,  as  it  does  him. 
When  I  tell  him  to  follow  up  their  stories  and  confront  them 
he  aays  'No  that  would  make  a  fuss.  Whenever  I  take  it  out 
of  the  Lord's  hands  and  attempt  to  manage  it  I  know  not  what 
will  come.  Let  it  rest  where  it  is.^  I  dont  know  but  what  that 
might  be  the  Lord's  plan  however — to  apply  the  kidfe  and  cut 
out  the  sore. 

"Some  of  the  members  are  more  enthuraastic  over  him  than 
ever.  He  has  the  heart  of  all  the  best  of  the  church.  .  .  We 
are  well  and  I  feel  that  I  ought  not  to  let  trifles  worry;  never- 
theless it  is  the  little  foxes  that  spoil  the  vine.  We  have  more 
need  to  ask  grace  for  little  cares  than  for  greater  ones." 

"Wh«i  a  man  does  you  a  mean,  malicious  trick  and  that 
without  provocation,  what  do  you  do?" 

To  this  questjon  he  replied:  "Well  we  first  get  hot,  and  thai 
we  walk  out  in  the  back  yard  and  let  the  wind  blow  on  us 
until  we  get  cool.    What  do  you  do  brother?" 

But,  while  his  pastorate  had  its  irritating  features,  yet  his 
church,  as  a  whole,  was  the  joy  of  his  life.  They  rallied  about 
him  with  affection  and  enthosasm  and,  more  and  more,  came 
to  do  his  bidding. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


/ 


23S     GENEROSITY  OF  GRACE  STREET 

Churches  in  these  days  often  smack  their  lips  at  th«r  shrewd- 
neaa  in  locking  the  gate  against  any  out  side  public  coUectiwu 
that  are  not  authorised  by  the  church.  But  not  so,  at  that 
time,  with  Grace  Street  Church.  Dr.  Hatcher's  collections 
in  his  church  for  needy  causes  were  so  bright  and  hearty  that 
they  became  an  attraction.  Verily  Grace  Street  Church  became 
the  tramping  ground  for  all  manner  of  worthy  t^pe^  from 
pastors  and  other  men  with  special  burdoui.  Was  Grace  Street 
impoverished  by  this?  Were  the  members  stampeded  by  such 
frequent  cries  for  help  and  did  the  public  take  to  the  woods, 
at  the  sound  of  the  bcggan?  Verily  No.  The  churoh  grew 
as  the  result  of  lier  greatheartedneas.  Alas,  tor  the  scary  and 
narrow  prudence  of  many  churches.  They  may  lock  their 
doors  but,  in  so  doii^,  they  shut  out  not  only  many  needy 
cases,  but  also  many  of  the  richest  experiences  that  a  churoh 
can  have.  The  struggling  countiy  churches  of  Virginia  knew 
that  th^r  a^hcation  for  aid  would  rec^ve  a  friendly  Teepanao 
from  Dr.  Hatcher.  In  fact,  from  other  states  the  cries  for 
help  would  often  oome.  For  example,  on  Sunday  Nov.  28tfa, 
he  wrote  me: 

"J.  M.  Pilcher  preached  for  ua  thia  morning  and  th«i  took 
his  collection.  Tonight  I  preached  on  Baptism  to  a  house 
neariy  full  and  then  brother  Stakeley  of  CharlesttHi  talked 
about  the  earthquake  and  pulled  \i8  on  another  collection." 

Many  were  the  "pulls"  ttiat  were  made  on  old  Grace  Street 
and  every  pull  bro^ht  some  treasure.  Many  were  the  Sund^a 
on  which  the  congregation  would  see  some  plain  looldng 
preacher  walk  out  on  the  pulpit  with  the  pastor.  During  the 
service  he  would  probably  ofiFer  a  prayer  or  read  the  Scriptures. 
The  congregation  would  surmise  that  "somethii^  was  coming." 
After  the  sermon  Dr.  Hatcher  would  address  the  congr^ation 
Bomewhat  as  follows: 

"Brethren,  this  is  brother I  wish  you 

would  tell  me  what  I  shall  do  with  him.  He  has  dedgns  against 
you.  He  is  pastor  of  a  httle  church  out  here  in  the  bushes,  in 
Page  county,  and  his  people  are  worshipping  in  the  public 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHURCH  COLLECTIONS  239 

school  house,  aad  his  congregation  is  tvnce  as  large  as  the  house 
and  he  wants  a  church  building,  but  I  told  him  that  you  were 
{Wverty  enshrined  and  to  go  back  home  and  not  expect  to  have 
a  church  building  like  other  churches;  but  he  has'nt  gone." 

"How  many  members  have  you  brother?"  he  would  say  turn- 
ing to  his  tremblii^  visitor: 

"Six^  Seven," 

"Tell  them  about  it  in  four  minutes  and  half." 

With  desperate  earnestness  the  brother  would  pour  out  his 
words  in  those  four  and  a  half  minutes! 

"Well  brother  "  he  would  say  when  tie  visitor 

cloflad  "I  take  it  back.  You  must  not  go  home  until  you  get 
that  house.  You  take  your  stand  down  there  by  the  table  at  the 
close  of  the  service.  Here  are  five  dollarB — but  whether  you 
will  get  any  more — at  any  rate  you  stand  down  at  liie  fnmt 
and  be  ready  to  shake  hands  with  any  of  my  members  who 
come  around,  and  you  keep  one  hand  open,  while  you  shake 
frith  the  other.  Let  us  stand  now  and  sing  heartily  the  Doxo- 
It^y,  Priuse  God  from  whom  all  blesmngs  flow." 

The  brother  from  Page  would  walk  down  to  the  front  and 
his  crowded  pocket  soon  told  the  rest  of  the  story. 

During  the  earlier  years  of  his  pastorate  the  door  was  barred 
ag^nst  such  collections.    He  said: 

"I  was  applied  to  find  also  that  no  collection  could  be 
taken  in  the  church  except  by  vote  of  the  church  in  its 
monthly  buednesa  meeting.  The  cordiality  with  which  I 
abhorr^  that  trick  of  Satan,  I  deem  to  this  day  highly 
creditable  to  my  character,  though  I  was  not  conspicuously 
courageous  in  waging  battle  against  it.  But  I  can  truly 
say  that  never  Jesuit,  nor  juggler,  ever  schemed  more  tricks 
for  avoiding  that  rule  than  I  did.  We  suspended  it,  forgot  it, 
postponed  it,  tried  to  amend  it,  made  appeals  for  money,  told 
them  it  was  unlawful  for  them  to  hand  it  in,  but  that  there  was 
a  table  in  front  of  the  pulpit  and  that  it  would  hold  money  if 
it  were  laid  upon  it,  or  that  ushers  had  good  hearts  and  lai^ 
hands  and  could  be  trusted.  I  brought  missonaries  there 
unexpectedly  and  they  told  their  story  and  made  thwr  appeals 
and  I,  with  the  neateet  style  of  ministerial  hypocrisy,  told  of  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


240  COUNTRY  PEOPLE 

infallible  and  unavoidable  rule  and  then  juggled  with  the  crowd 
and  the  misfflonaries  went  away  regrettjng  that  there  could  be 
no  coUeciion,  but  with  their  pockets  bul^ng  with  money.  One 
night  when  it  nuned  and  the  strict  constructionists  were  nursing 
thar  rheumatism  at  home  we  punctured  that  rule  ami  it  went 
up  in  tJiiu  air,  an  offering  I  hope  unto  the  Lord." 

"Friday  night"  he  writes  me  "1  went  with  C&tlett  np  to  his 
church  in  Caroline  and  lectured  yesterday,  I  feel  deeply  for 
the  country  pec^le.  They  have  a  hard  struggle  and  are  very 
poor.  You  will  find  out  much  more  about  country  folks  than 
you  ever  knew  and  will  learn  to  love  them.  They  are  simple 
hearted  and  more  real  than  town  folks.  I  never  weary  of  going 
into  their  homes.  They  are  helped  by  sympathy  and  it  wiU 
help  lyou  to  sympathize  with  them.  I  am  very  happy  in  my 
pastoral  labors.  We  have  had  today  a  swarm  of  College  Scrags. 
Kate  brought  Fanny  Jones  with  her  from  church  and  they  had 
a  high  time  with  the  feUows," 

On  Dec.  3rd  my  mother  in  writing  to  church  work  aays: 

"It  is  the  best  panacea  for  all  the  ills  of  life  of  which  we  seem 
to  have  had  our  share  lately.  I  hope  for  better  times  though 
I  sometimes  feel  that  the  skies  will  never  be  any  brighter  here." 

His  next  letter  shows  that  he  kept  in  touch  with  the  matri 
monial  prospects  of  his  niece,  Nettie. ' 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Dec.  5th,  1886. 
"My  DsiE  E: 

"It  fleema  hardly  fiur  to  select  Sunday  night — my  dullest 
moment  tor  writii^  to  you.    But  it  is  my  time  of  leisure. 

"Nettie's  W glory  shone  in  upon  her  the  last  week 

and  said  Us  love  sick  poetry  to  her  in  the  regular  orthodox 
way.  She  is  here  tonight  and  near  me  as  I  write.  She  has  not 
yet  uttered  the  word  of  final  doom,  but  she  is  in  a  yielding 
frame  of  mind.  He  is  to  come  again  and  by  that  time  I  think 
she  will  be  ready  to  crown  him  the  king  of  her  heart. 

"The  interest  in  CI is  very  intense.     Everybody 

seems  sorry  for  him  and  there  is  much  hope  that  his  sentence 
may  be  commuted.  But  I  see  but  faint  chance  for  him.  I 
have  never  believed  that  the  Governor  would  interfere.  I 
have  not  seen  him  for  several  weeks." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY  241 

The  meoticm  of  the  name  "Ct "  opens  up  one  of  the 

darkest  tragedies  that  Virspnia  had  known  once  the  Civil  War, 
and,  with  this  tragedy,  Dr.  Hatcher  became  pwnfully  linked. 

The  drowned  body  of  a  young  woman, — aoaa  to  become  a 
mother — ^was  found  floating  in  the  city  reservoir  and  on  the 
face  of  the  young  woman  were 'Several  bruises.     SuBpidon 

pointed  to  a  promiEong  young  lawyer,  Mr.  T.  J,  CI of 

county  as  the  murderer.   The  arrest  of  Mr.  CI 

whipped  the  state  into  excitement.  The  day  for  the  trial 
arrived  and  the  bright  lights  of  the  Virginia  bar  were  arrayed 
against  each  other  and  at  the  end  the  verdict  was  "Guilty". 
Instead  of  pouring  oil  on  the  popular  a^tation  the  verdict 
served  rather  to  lash  it  into  much  greater  turbulence  and  to 
divide  the  public  into  two  camps, — opposite  in  opiniwi  re- 
garding the  prisioner.  Discusfflon  of  the  verdict  ruled  the 
hour  at  nearly  every  country  store,  street  comer  and  family 
fireside  throughout  the  state;  in  fact  it  penetrated  widely 
into  neighboring  states. 

Dec.  10th  was  the  date  set  for  the  execution  and  on  Dec. 
7th,  the  Governor,  on  being  importuned  for  a  reprieve  for 
the  prisoner,  said." 

"I  would  like  to  see- the  spiritual  counselor  of  the  prisoner." 

"Send  for  Dr.  Hatcher"  said  the  prisoner  when  informed  of 
the  Governor's  request. 

Dr.  Hatcher  weet — three  days  before  the  day  for  the  exe- 
cution. The  public  were  at  once  on  tip  toe  of  curiomty  as  to 
whether  the  prisones-  would  make  a  confes^on  to  Dr.  Hatcher. 

"I  saw  the  priscmer"  wrote  my  father  to  me  "very  soon  after 
he  received  the  news  that  the  Governor  had  gone  against  him. 
He  was  much  d^ressed— far  more  than  I  ever  saw  him.  He 
felt  that  his  last  hope  was  gone  and  when  I  prayed  with  him  he 
wept.  He  said :  'I  hope  I  am  ready  for  death,  but  one  does  not 
like  to  face  these  things  so  suddenly.' 
"The  Bichmond  Dispatch"  s^d  next  morning: 

"As  Dr.  Hatcher  came  out  of  CI 's  room  he  looked 

very,  very  sad.  He  declined  to  say  anything  to  the  newspaper 
reporters. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


242  LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY 

"No"  Sfud  he  "I  would  rather  not.  I  dont  know  that  the 
prisoner  would  like  it." 

"So  saying,  he  politely  bowed  himself  off." 

■  On  that  some  day  Dr.  Hatcher  presented  to  the  Governor 
the  request  for  a  reprieve  for  the  prisoner.  The  request  was 
granted  and  he  had  the  great  satisfaction  of  aunoundng  to  the 
prisoner  that  bis  execution  had  been  postponed  until  Jan.  14th. 
December  ilk  to  Jan.  litkf  More  than  a  month  of  suspoise  for 
the  prisoner,  of  excitement  for  the  pubhc,  of  frantic  appeals 
for  pardon  and  of  racking  strain  and  toil  for  Dr.  Hatcher. 

My  mother  writes  on  Dec,  9th: 

"Your  Pa  has  had  a  busy  time  this  week — mainly  at- 
tending to  CI . 

"Everybody  seems  anziouB  to  hear  about  the  case  and 
about  your  Pa's  connection  with  it.  -  They  stop  him  and  make 

all  sorte  of  inquiries  about  it.   When  he  went  to  see  CI 

Tuesday  he  says  he  looked  more  embarrassed  than  he  had 
seen  hirn  before." 

The  Richmond  Dispatch  of  Dee.  11th  aSaid: 

"A  rumor  was  widespread  in  the  city  yesterday  that  CI 

had  made  a  confession  to  Rev.  Dr.  William  E.  Hatcher,  who 
was  in  the  jcul  t^  see  him". 

On  all  sides  the  idea  seemed  to  spring  up  that  CI had 

given  some  dark  secret  to  Dr.  Hatcher.  It  is  difficult  for  the 
reader  to  realize  the  intense  excitement  that  then  prevailed 
throughout  Virginia  and  even  in  other  states.  For  example 
Dr.  Hatcher  received  the  following  letter  from  Washington : 

"House  op  EEPRBSENTATrvBS  U.  S. 
"Washinoton,  D.  C. 
"Dear  Bro.  : 

"Do  all  in  your  power  to  get  CI to  confess — and 

make  it  public.  Already  public  opinion  is  against  you  and 
when  it  once  downs  a  man  he  is  gone.  The  papers  seem  to  infer 
that  you  try  to  keep  his  crime  a  secret.  For  the  love  of  God 
check  this,  as  soon  as  possible." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY  243 

The  reporters  were  voraciouB,  and  the  public  generally  were 
cl&morouB  for  Dr.  Hatcher  to  tell  the  happenings  in  the  j  ul  room. 
Th«r  strained  curioaty  almost  demanded  it,  and  hie  self 
control  and  courage  were  now  put  to  severest  test.  He  deter- 
mined that  the  pubhc  clamor  and  criticism  should  not  drive 
him  mto  the  public  press  with  the  secrets  of  the  prison  cell, 
and  the  pubhc  seemed  equally  determined  to  extract  the  secrets 
from  him.  His  relation  to  the  unfortunate  man  put  upon  him 
one  of  the  most  delicat«  and  bewildering  tasks  that  he  had  ever 
faced.  He  determined  to  be  the  judge  of  what  he  would  tell 
the  public  and  to  choose  his  own  time  for  giving  information. 
And  BO  he  moved  ahead,  undisturbed  by  insistent  appeals 
often  smiling  at  the  frenzied  importunities  of  the  reporters  who 
peppered  him  with  their  questions  at  his  house,  his  study  and 
on  the  streets  and  yet  whom  he  always  kept  in  good  humor  by 
his  playful  obstinacy.  It  was  one  of  his  marked  characteristics 
that  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  dr^ooned  into  hasty, 
impulfflve  action.  He  did  not  blame  the  public  for  being  in- 
terested and  curious,  regarding  hia  intercourse  with  CI . 

He  knew  that  he  was  leamii^  things  that  they  had  a  right  to 
know  and  that  the  world  ought  to  know,  and  that  were  more 
interesting  than  they  ever  imagined.  But  be  decided  that 
when  he  did  tell  them  it  would  not  be  by  fitful  little  squibs 
e^ven  every  day  to  reporters,  to  be  served  to  the  public  in 
sensational  phrases.  His  sacred  experiences  in  that  prison 
cell  deserved  more  respectful  treatment  than  that  and  he 
resolved  that  when  he  did  speak  it  would  be  in  words  that  the 
people  would  never  fot^et. 

He  wrote  to  me,  at  this  time,  as  follows: 


"I  see  that  you  share  the  popular  anxiety  about  CI . 

It  is  the  one  absorbing  topic  in  Bichmond  and  many  persons 
say  that  they  cannot  think  or  dream  of  anything  else. 

"My  connection  with  the  case  haa  given  me  a  troublesome 
and  unpleasant  notoriety.  The  reporters  swarm  around  me  and 
seek  to  extract  every  possible  item  from  me.  They  get  nothing 
and  seemed  sorely  vexed  by  my  stubborn  taciturnity.      .     , 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


i 


244  LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY 

"As  for  the  matter  of  a  confession — the  one  absorbing  topic 
ot  curioaty  — I  think  it  is  best  to  be  silent.  You  would  be 
amused  to  see  how  I  am  besieged,  even  by  strangeis  and  friends 
on  the  subject.  From  every  quarter  I  bear  that  I  am  discussed 
with  ahnost  as  much  ctfficent  as  if  I  were  the  principal  actor. 
Only  here  and  there  I  am  blamed  for  my  sympathy  with  him. 
This,  of  course,  ^vea  me  no  trouble.  I  feel  the  delicacy  of 
my  portion  and  need  wisdom.  I  am  anxious  to  be  fwthful 
in  my  efforts  to  help  the  poor  soul  to  prepare  for  its 
flight. 

"I  have  written  thus  fully  because  I  thought  you  would  long 
to  hear.  I  have  said  nothing  that  you  may  not  repeat  to  others, 
if  you  have  occa^on  to  do  so.  I  wiH  viat  him  two  or  three  times 
this  week  and  if  anythii^  should  occur  of  interest  and  proper 
to  repeat  I  will  write  agun." 

One  day  in  the  prisoner's  cell  a  tr^c  scene  was  enacted. 
Dr.  Hatcher  said  to  the  prisoner  in  a  kindly  tone  and  yet  with 
finnness: 

"I  feel  that  I  must  say  several  things  to  you: 

"The  last  act  in  your  sad  career  is  drawing  to  a  speedy  end. 
Nothing  can  now  be  done  for  you,  and  I  beg  you  to  turn  from 
any  further  hope  of  release,  and  prepare  to  enter  tJbiat  ^emity 
which  is  at  hand. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  you  are  innocent,  or  guilty,  but 
with  you  that  is  a  simple  question.  If  you  are  innocent  it  is 
a  joyful  fact  for  you — but  even  your  innocence  will  not  save 
you.  Your  hope  must  be  built  not  upon  your  innocence  erf 
this  charge,  but  on  Christ  the  Son  of  God. 

"But  the  evidence  against  you  is  very  strong.  Three  tri- 
bunals have  practically  pronounced  you  guilty.  If  you  are 
guilty,  your  guilt  is  terrible  and  you  dare  not  hope  for  mercy 
if  you  appear  before  God's  Judgment  Bar  with  your  unconfessed 
guilt  upon  you.  But  you  must  consider  that  a  mere  confession 
will  not  save  you.  If  guilty  of  this  crime,  you  cannot  be  saved 
without  confession  and  your  confession  must  be  voluntary 
and  not  forced  out  of  you  by  fear  of  the  gallows;  but  it  is  also 
true  that,  even  with  your  confession,  you  cannot  be  saved 
except  through  your  faith  in  Christ  as  your  redeemer." 

"Now  let  me  say"  continued  Dr.  Hatcher  "I  will  accept  any 
statement  you  make  to  me  as  to  your  guilt,  or  innocence,  as 
final,  and  I  shall  act  upon  it." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY  246 

"I  am  not  guilty,  Dr.  Hatcher.  I  am  innocent  of  the  blood 
of  lillian  M ,"  said  CI . 

"If  you  make  tiiOb  statement  to  cover  the  whole  case"  re- 
plied Dr.  Hatcher  "then  I  accept  it  and  will  treat  you  ac- 
cordingly." 

CI alao  added: 

"I  have  never  had  much  hope  of  deliverance  unce  the  ver- 
dict of  the  jury,  but  I  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  fight  against 
the  shame  and  cruelty  of  the  gallows,  and  besides  the  love  of 
life  is  very  natural." 

On  Dec.  15th  my  mother  wrote  me: 

"People  are  craey  to  hear  whether  01 will  confess 

or  not,  and  seem  determined  to  try  to  drive  your  Fa  into 
talking  about  it." 

In  a  letter  to  me  of  Dec.  19th,  he  sud: 

"Tonight  I  preached  on  'Confesaon'  which  put  the  crowds 

to  BpeciUating  about  CI .    It  seems  that  ^  I  do    is 

watched  with  a  keen  and  eager  curiosity.  I  discussed  the 
elements  of  a  good  confession  and  the  people  could  easily  see 
what  my  notions  of  an  acceptable  confesKon  were. 

"CI is  terribly  excited  about  the  watch  key.     He 

says  that  Joel  has  stated  a  falsehood  about  it.  I  know  not 
what  to  think  about  it.  I  told  him  not  to  set  his' hope  on  any 
earthly  thing.  I  see  no  chance  for  him  except  in  such  extra- 
ordinary Providences  as  rarely  come." 

The  tide  of  sentiment  in  favor  of  the  prisoner  seemed  to  be 
riamg.  Mr.  Edgar  Allan,  one  of  lUchmond's  most  brilliant 
lawyers,  became  interested  in  the  case,  declaring  "More  people 
beheve  him  innocoit  today  thaa  ever  before."  He  intimated 
that  witnesses  had  been  suborned. 

Dr.  Hatcher  found  himself  between  two  forces.  The  courts 
pointed  to  the  prisoner's  guilt  and  execution,  while  the  pris- 
oner hinuelf,  whose  friend  he  was  seeking  to  be,  was  pleading 
an  opposite  course.  He  had  to  pursue  a  path,  marked  by 
reE^>ect  for  justice  and  truth,  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


246  LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY 

band  by  ^sympathy  for  the  prisoaer,  who  was  leaning  upon 

As  the  fateful  day,  Jan.  14th,  drew  near,  everybody  seemed 
to  be  expecting  something  startling  to  happen. 

On  Jan.  9th.,  five  days  before  the  date  set  for  the  execution, 
he  wrote  me : 

"There  is  no  hope  that  I  can  see  for  CI and  I  think 

that  he  has  pretty  well  ^ven  up.  He  seemed  more  flushed 
and  excited  yesterday,  than  I  ever  saw  him  before.  He  excited 
my  deepest  pity.  He  could  not  talk  so  placidly  as  usual,  and  I 
felt  a  suspicion  that  he  was  less  emphatic  in  asserting  his 
innocence,  than  heretofore.  He  said:  'if  the  worst  comes  to  the 
worst  I  am  anxious  to  avoid  everything  sensational  at  my 
execution,  I  have  made  my  statement  in  my  book  and  I  shul 
have  nothing  more  to  say.'  But  this  may  all  b^  changed.  He  has 
now  to  turn  his  face  away  from  the  world  and  look  squarely 
at  death  and  eternity.  When  he  ceases  to  deal  with  the  en- 
grossing and  tantalizing  schemes  for  his  escape  from  his  doom 
and  finds  no  lingering  gleam  of  hope,  he  may  not  be  able  to  hold 
up.  If  he  is  guilty,  it  will  be  hanl  for  him  to  meet  death  with 
the  damning  secret  in  his  soul. 

"And  yet  he  is  in  a  fearful  dilema.  He  cannot  confess  with- 
out bringing  the  blackest  suspicions  about  his  family.  If  the 
watch-key  was  his,  then  brother  and  aunt  are  guilty  of  perjury, 
for  they  swore  that  it  was  not.  They  would  be  liable  to  arrest. 
Then,  too,  his  book  would  go  for  nothing. 

"I  have  not  even  yet  surrendered  all  hope  of  his  innocence. 
But  I  am  very  doubtful.  1  have  not  sought  to  drive  him  to  a 
confession.  This  I  could  not  do,  except  on  the  assumption 
of  his  guilt,  and  that  in  the  face  of  his  professed  innocence. 
Besides,  I  think  a  coerced  confesaon  is  worthless. 

"The  case  is  extremely  perplexing  to  me.  It  has  crushed 
me  into  a  painful  depression.  At  one  moment,  I  fear  that  he  is 
guilty  and  will  die  with  a  lie  on  his  lips;  the  next,  I  think  tiiOt 
he  inay  be  innocent  and  I  fear  that  it  will  be  a  judicial  murder, 
and  sometimes  I  imagine  that  the  terror  of  death  will  wring 
a  confession  from  him  when  it  will  do  him  no  good. 

"I  seem  to  myself  a  very  feeble  and  incompetent  counselor, 
not  to  have  advanced  further  with  his  case.  But  I  have  advised 
with  other  men  and  they  say  that  my  course  has  been  right. 
I  have  sought  to  be  faithful  with  him  and  cannot  see  that  I  can 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY  247 

have  much  occaffion  for  reproach  when  it  is  over.  What  I  have 
written  must  prove  unsatiafactory  and  bewildering  to  you.  I 
send  it  because  you  will  expect  something  and  not  because  I 
am  anxious  to  write  about  it." 

"You  muat  wfut  imtil  next  Sunday  night,  and  then  I  will 
^ve  you  Hie  end  of  the  dreadful  matter." 

The  fight  to  save  the  ptison^a  life  was  redoubled.  An 
f4>peal  waa  sent  to  ihe  members  of  the  L^uslature. 

"The  r^wrters  have  a  notion"  eaid  the  Dispatch  "that  Dr. 
Hatcher  knows  sontething  which  would  be  inteoaely  interesting 
to  the  public  if  he  would  oaly  let  it  out."  In  Lynchburg 
a  poll  was  taken  and  70  persons,  out  of  100,  thought  that 

CI oi^t  not  to  be  hung,  but  that  his  sentence  ought 

to  be  commuted.  It  was  announced  that  three  jurors  who 
c<mdemned  CI now  favored  his  sentence  being  com- 
muted and  would  agn  a  petition  to  that  effect. 

Only  one  day  remained.  One  o'clock,  on  the  next  day, 
Fridi^  waa  the  time  set  for  the  hanging.  On  Thursday  night, 
with  the  pressure  becoming  so  heavy,  Dr.  Hatcher  decided  to 
make  another  effort  with  the  Governor.  He  called  upon  him 
and  laid  before  him  an  ^plication  for  a  further  reprieve,  but 
no  answer  was  ^ven  that  night.  "Your  father  found  the  Goveiv 
nor  saturated  with  a  belief  in  his  guilt"  said  my  mother.  The 
hours  of  that  night  dragged  with  leaden  feet  for  Dr.  Hatcher 
aa  wdl  as  for  the  prisoner.  Next  morning,  after  breakfast, 
he  set  out  for  the  prison  to  await  the  events  of  that  direful 
day,  for  he  had  promised  that  if  the  prisoner  was  to  be  hung, 
he  would  go  to  the  scaffold  with  him.  As  he  walked  to  the 
Jail,  he  decided  that  he  would  surest  to  the  prisoner  that  he 
take  with  him  to  the  scaffold  the  prayer:  "Lord  Jesus  receive 
nqr  spirit."  He  reached  the  Jul  and  the  little  group  in  the 
priaoner's  room  showed  suppressed  excitemoit.  The  attorney 
was  at  the  Capitol,  busy  with  his  final  appeal  to  the  Qov^nor. 
The  execution  was  to  take  place  at  1  o'clock.    Dr.  Hatcher 

read  one  of  the  Psahns  to  the  prisoner  and  CI stopped 

him  and  said: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


248  LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  I  have  had  but  one  prayer  on  my  lips  today 
and  that  is,  'Lord  Jeaus  receive  my  spirit.'  "  "That  is  the  very 
prayer"  s^d  Dr.  Hatcher  "that  I  hfid  decided  to  suggest  that 
you  take  with  you  to  the  end."  After  the  reading  Dr.  Hatcher 
led  in  prayer. 

In  the  meantime,  the  strain  of  suspense,  as  they  wfuted 
to  hear  from  the  Qovemor,  became  almost  iotoletable. 

Dr.  Hatcher  had  pres^ited  his  plea  to  the  GoTOTior  cm  Uie 
night  before  and  Mr.  Cramp  and  others  were  presni^  ^e  E4>peal 
up(m  him  in  that  last  hour.  At  about  twelve  o'clock,  Mr.  Crump 
was  seen  approaching  the  door.  Instant  silence  fell  upcMi  the 
little  company  and,  as  the  attorney  entered,  he  annotmced  that 
the  Governor  had  refused  to  interfere  in  any  way  with  the 
executitm.  The  prisoner's  "knees  trembled  and  almost  smote 
each  other.  That  was  the  terrible  moment  for  him."  Dr. 
Hatcher  and  the  prisoner,  in  those  next  awful  momenta,  w«re 
left  alone.  As  sotn  as  the  last  person  had  moved  out  and  tiie 
door  was  eloaed,  the  two  knelt  in  prayer.  When  they  arose 
to  their  feet.  Dr.  Hatcho-  turned. to  the  prisoner  and  sud  to 
bim  in  aa  kindly  a  tone  as  he  could: 

"All  ear^y  hope  is  now  passed  and  death  is  at  hand.  I  sup- 
pose this  will  be  the  last  moment  you  and  I  will  be  alone  and 
if  there  is  anything  you  dedre  to  say  to  me  it  must  be  s^d  at 
once." 

"No;  Doctor,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  My  statentmt  must 
stand  as  I  gave  it." 

"I  want  to  say  to  you,  Dr.  Hatcher"  he  continued  "that  the 
Bible  has  been  a  great  comfort  to  me  and  I  would  certainly 
have  broken  down  but  for  its  promises.  My  trust  for  the 
future  is  in  Jesus  Christ  and  I  have  no  fear  beyond  death." 

At  12:30  o'clock,  while  CI was  dressing  for  the 

scaffcrfd.  Dr.  Hatcher  stepped  outside  and  engaged  in  conver- 
sation with  Mr.  Crump.  "The  faces  of  both  of  them"  said  the 
Dispatch  "betrayed  excitement,  which  they  stru^led  to 
repress  and  hide."   After  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  Crump  left. 

Then  commenced  the  march  to  the  scaffold.    The  big  heavy 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY  249 

door  awung  open  and  the  party  slowly  filed  out  of  the  room, — 
Sergeant  Mason  in  the  lead.  Sergeant  Smith  and  CI— 


n«xt,  with  Dr.  Hatcher  and  Sergeant  Allen,  behind  them. 
With  measured  treed  they  moved  down  the  passage  to  the 
top  of  the  stairs,  where  they  were  joined  by  four  police  officers. 
Down,  down  the  two  fiights  of  steps  they  walked  and,  aa  they 
began  their  descent,  the  throngs  outdde  the  Jul  caught  dgfat 
of  the  prisoner  and  the  hills  resounded  with  their  wild  shouta. 
They  reached  the  bottom  of  the  scaffold  and  then  began  to 
ascend  the  sixteen  scaffold  steps.  It  must  have  been  a  weary 
climb  for  more  than  one  of  tiiat  party.    They  reached  the 

platform  and  CI walked  to  the  trap  door  and  stood 

over  it.  Dr.  Hatcher  walked  to  the  right  comer  of  the  plat- 
form to  the  front  of  CI who  looked  very  solemn. 

Absolute  stillness  prevailed.  Sei^eant  Smith  drew  forth  a 
p^>er  and  read  the  death  warrant.  When  he  finished,  he 
said  to  the  prisoner :   "Do  you  wish  to  say  anything?" 

The  prisoner  looked  up  at  him  and  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
but  with  quiveru^  lips,  a^d: 

"No;  I  do  not  want  to  say  anything." 

"Not  a  word?"  asked  the  sergeant. 

"No  Sir." 

Sergeant  Smith  stepped  back  and  mgnaled  to  Dr.  Hatohw, 
who  walked  forward  and  said: 

"Let  ufl  pray." 

He  had  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  kneeling  down,  he  offered  a 
prayer  m  a  clear  voice  and  earnest  mann^.  Am<mg  other 
things  he  said  (aa  reported  m  the  paper  next  morning) : 

"We  humbly  beseech  thee  to  come  and  look  down  upon  tby 
servant  now  in  this,  which  is  to  be  the  hour  of  bis  supreme 
affliction  and  trial,  and  we  commend  him  to  thy  tender  mercy 
in  this  hour  when  human  law  pronounces  this  sentence  agunst 
him,  when  human  friendship  and  human  sympathies  are  un- 
availing. Oh,  that  the  mercy  of  God  may  be  abundantly  be- 
stowed upon  him;  may  his  am  be  freely  for^ven;  may  he  be 
able  to  hold  a  firm  and  sustaining  grasp  of  the  promises  of 
that  Savior  that  years  ago  he  confe^ed.    And  we  pray  that 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


260  LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY 

the  light  of  the  true  God  may  Bhine  into  Mb  mind  and  that  the 
promises  of  the  Lord  may  be  to  him  full  fuid  bright.  Oh,  God, 
our  father,  we  commit  his  spirit  into  thy  hands  and  pray  that 
he  may  be  able  to  say,  'I  know  whom  I  have  believed  and  am 
persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed 
to  him.'  Oh,  God,  wilt  thou  show  thy  mercy  uptsi  all  who  are 
here  and  upon  the  broken  hearted  ones  who  are  away,  w6  ask 
for  our  dear  Redeemer's  sake  Amen." 

Dr.  Hatcher  arose  from  his  knees  and  stepped  to  CI , 

and  sud: 

"Have  you  anything  you  wish  to  say?"  CI said 

something  to  him,  after  which  Dr.  Hatcher  turned  to  the 
crowd  and  sfud: 

"I  am  requested  by  the  prisoner  to  utter  just  one  word  and 
that  is  that  at  this  moment  of  his  death  he  carries  no  ill  will 
to  any  man  on  earth."  He  then  turned  to  the  prisoner  and  said: 

"la  that  all?" 

With  a  nod  of  his  head  he  said,  in  a  low  voice: 

"Yes." 

Dr.  Hatcher,  with  his  hat  in  hand,  then  shook  hands  with 
the  prisoner  and  said  to  him;  "God  bless  you." 

"Good  bye,  Doctor,"  replied  CI ,  "I  am  very  much 

obliged  to  you.  Please  try  to  comfort  those  at  home,  and  give 
them  my  love." 

Sei^eant  Smith  beckoned  to  one  of  the  policemen,  who  came 
forward  and  acted  as  an  escort  for  Dr.  Hatcher,  as  he  wended 
his  way  through  the  crowd  and  out  into  the  street.  Just  before 
he  reached  the  gate,  he  turned  around  and  looked  towards  the 

scaffold  and  his  eye  fell  upon  CI ,  with  the  rope  around 

his  neck.  Out  from  the  prison  gate  he  went,  with  his  hat  in  his 
hand.  He  never,  stopped  until  he  reached  the  home  of  his 
friend.  Dr.  R.  H.  Pitt,  seven  blocks  distant.  "When  he  reached 
my  house,"  said  Dr.  Pitt,"  he  was  as  white  as  a  sheet  and  he 
had  come  all  the  way  through  the  streets,  on  that  January 
day,  without  putting  on  his  hat;  he  still  carried  it  in  his  hand. 
He  was  greatly  wroi^bt  up — ^more  than  I  had  ever  seen  him 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


.    LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY  251 

before.  We  nude  him  lie  down  on  a  ooucb  where,  after  a  while, 
he  became  ocxmpoaed." 

He  had  gone  to  Dr.  Pitt's  house  for  a  purpose.  He  knew  that 
on  the  next  morning  the  papers  would  blazon  abroad  the 
scenes  attendii^  the  hanging  and  that  in  nearly  every  mind 

would  be  the  queiy  "What  did  CI say  to  Dr.  Hatcher?" 

He  bad  promised  that  after  the  execution  be  would  unlock 
his  lips  and  epealc  to  the  public.  That  time  had  now  come  and 
90,  with  hia  soul  quivering  with  the  horrors  of  the  last  ee&ie, 
he  wrote  out  the  tragical  story, — wrote  it  in  the  shape  of  an 
"mterview",  with  Dr.  Pitt  acting  as  the  rqmrter. 

Next  morning,  aa  the  Richmond  Dispatch  sped  into  every 
section  of  Virgima  and  into  many  other  states,  it  carried  on 
its  first  page  this  "interview  with  Dr.  Hatcher."  It  was  four 
colunme  in  length  and  was  literally  devoured  by  the  reading 
public.  I  well  remember  the  eagerness  of  the  countiy  people, 
where  I  was  teaching,  to  get  the  papers  with  the  interview. 
I  also  remember  the  hig^  praise  which  the  "Interview"  evoked 
from  all  claaseB.  Prominent  men  in  the  state  pronounced  it 
a  woi^  of  high  art, — and  prused  it  for  its  diction,  its  skill,  its 
tone  and  spirit.  The  Interview  bore  the  head  line: 
"Dr.  Hatdier  aptaka  at  last" 

The  following  are  some  of  the  questions  and  answers: 

"Reporter.  Was  the  effect  of  your  association  with  him  to 
increase  or  diminish  your  suspicion  of  bis  guilt?" 

"Dr.  Hatcher.  I  am  not  very  impressible  and  men  have  to  be 
quite  magnetic  to  take  pOBseasion  of  me.    I  traveled  slowly  in 

forming  my  judgement  of  CI ,  but  I  must  say  that 

while  I  never  expressed  any  opinion  one  way  or  the  other,  I 

found  myself  gradually  drif !  ing  to  the  conviction  that  CI 

was  not  a  murderer." 

"Reporter.  'Your  study  and  nianagement  of  the  case  must 
have  given  you  much  anxiety.' 

"Dr.  Hatcher.  'As  to  the  question  of  my  personal  feelings 
that  possesses  no  interest  for  the  public  and  on  this  I  will  not 
speak.  .  .  .  What  to  do  and  how  to  do  it,  so  as  to  be  of 
real  christian  service  to  the  helpless  object  of  my  charge,  were 
haras^ng  and  bewildering  problems.    At  one  moment,  1  faced 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


262  LINKED  WITH  A  TRAGEDY 

the  possibility  of  his  guilt  and  feared  that  he  would  brave 
death  without  a  confession.  At  another,  I  wondered  whether 
he  m^t  not  defer  his  conlesaon,  until  brought  to  tiie  scaffold 
and  then  make  it  when  it  would  be  wrong  in  its  motive  and 
worthleBS  in  its  effect.  At  another,  and  indeed  very  often,  I 
suffered  the  agonies  of  a  dreadful  f^prehendon  lest  after  all, 
b^ng  an  innocent  man,  he  might  die  the  victim  of  the  law's 


"RepcHter.  'Do  you  think  that  the  prisoner  was  prepared 
for  Heaven?' 

"Dr.  Hatcher.   'That  is  a  question  too  solemn  and  profound 

_  for  me  to  touch.    I  believe  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  in 

the  reality  and  gloTy  of  the  heavenly  state.     .     .     .     Ctt  this 

question  I  choose  to  be  silsnt  and  leave  the  refluH  to  that  God 

into  whose  presence  the  prison^'s  spirit  haa  gone.' 

"Reporter.  'Did  hemake  any  confession,  or  gjve  any  hintof  it?' 

"Dr.  Hatcher.  'Not  one  word,  and  nothing  occurred  that  sug- 
gested to  me  that  he  was  struggling  to  keep  back  any  secret.' 

"Reporter.  'Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  reproduce  the 
prayer  you  offered  on  the  scaffold.' 

"Dr.  Hatcher.  'I  beg  to  be  excused.  It  was  a  brief  and 
unpremeditated  prayer,  such  as  the  aad  ocoamoD  suggested  and 
I  could  not  possibly  reproduce  it.' 

"Reporter.  'Thank  you  Doctor;  but  may  I  ask  you  if,  after 
all,  you  do  not  think  he  was  a  guilty  man?' 

"Dr.  Hatcher.  'That  I  have  never  said  aod  surely,  at  this 
time,  it  would  be  strange  for  me  to  commit  myself  to  that  ^dew. 
I  have  no  wi^  to  add  to  the  frenzied  excitem^it,  which  now 
fills  so  many  hearts.  The  poor  young  man  is  dead  and  beyond 
the  reach  of  human  sympathy.  My  opinion  is  of  little  worth 
but  I  knew  him,  as  no  other  man  did  during  his  prison  Ufe, 
and,  while  I  do  not  wish  to  discuss  the  matter,  I  must  be  candid 
enough  to  say  that  I  am  far  from  being  convinced  that  he 
merited  the  shameful  death  to  which  he  has  come.'  " 

The  story  of  his  experience  with  CI ,  from  Dec. 

5th  to  Jfui.  14tb,  has  been  given  in  unbroken  form,  uninter- 
rupted by  any  reference  to  his  other  activities.  But  during 
all  that  period  his  shouldera  carried  many  burdens  of  the  pas- 
torate and  of  outside  matters.  It  was  fortunate  for  him  that 
be  had  other  tasks  to  divert  his  mind  from  the  horrible  ordeal 
at  the  jail. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTEEXXU 


.  AH  BntrrruL  phatbb  hebtino.     sevebal  wsekb  revival  cah- 
PAiaif.    ooRRBcrmo  hib  children's  dkttiok.    bundat 

8CHBDUIX.      "lII>E  OF  1.  B.  IBTBB." 

During  aU  the  weeks  of  his  atraiiui^  ezperioDce  with  CI 

he  was  bemg  hampered  from  ODother  direotitm.  The  diatur- 
beiB  in  his  chnreh,  who  had  bees  troubling  him  for  aeveral 
years,  were  still  piuBuing  their  fonner  tactics,  not  only  against 
the  pastor,  but  also  against  scnne  of  the  movements  of  the 
church.  Their  words  and  actions  kept  the  church  in  more  or 
lees  agitatiui  and  robbed  the  pasttn*  of  many  hours  of  sleep. 
In  one  of  his  letters  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Chariee  Pratt  of  Brooklyn, 
be  droi^ped  a  bint  of  his  chunji  worries.  In  r^ly  Mr.  Piatt 
wrote: 

"New  Yore,  26  Broadwat,  Jan.  27th,  1887. 

"Dear  Db.  Hatcher;  .  .  .  You  have  made  no  mistake  in 
op^ng  your  heart  to  me.  .  .  It  seems  to  me  that  I  would 
just  do  my  duty  and  never  mind  the  thorns  that  meet  you  on 
the  way — ^you  will  find  that  tb^-  are  everywhere.  We  all 
have  them,  and  I  never  expect  this  side  of  Heaven  to  be  witJiout 
them — BO  there  is  a  pair  of  us.  I  often  tiiink  of  the  first  ch^ter 
of  Joshua,  I  think  it  is  where  he  is  told  to  be  of  good  courage. 
"Your  Friend, 

"Charles  Pratt." 

"lilnally  the  situation  with  these  members  grew  unbearably 
acute"  he  stud  "and  things  were  done  that  I  would  not  dare 
to  tell.  They  were  too  bad  to  tell  and  showed  what  good  men 
would  do  when  untracked  and  reckless.    Events  were  bo  serious 


D.qit.zlaovGoOt^lc 


254  CALL  TO  JUDSON  COLLEGE 

and  fierce  that  they  brought  me  to  a  pause.  I  took  my  burden 
aguu  to  the  throne  and  aeked  for  instructJoufi.  For  the  fint 
time  I  felt  willing  to  go,  if  the  Lord  indicated  cleariy  okough 
that  it  was  his  will  for  me  to  go,  though,  to  save  my  life,  I 
oould  not  feel  that  it  would  be  best  for  me  to  be  eliminated 
imder  the  dictation  of  that  faction. 

On  Jan.  30th  he  wrote  me: 

"My  work  here  is  vety  heavy  on  me  and  often  burdois  me 
with  anxiety  and  care.  At  times  I  sigh  for  liberty,  but  work 
is  the  law  of  life 

"I  am  tugging  aw^  on  the  Jeter  book — a  fearful  woric." 

While  in  this  imcertain  condition,  he  opened  his  mfdl  one 
day  and  found  a  letter  extoiding  to  him  a  call  to  the  preadency 
of  the  Judson  Female  College  of  Marion  Ala.  He  stud  "I  had 
asked  the  Lord  if  he  would  have  me  go,  to  open  the  gate  and 
now  the  gate  was  open  with  a  most  attractive  offer  in 
si^^t." 

After  two  weeks  consideration,  he  decided  to  deolme  the  call 
to  Judson  Collie.  He  would  not  nm  from  trouble.  "Never 
was  the  situation  more  complex  or  menacing"  stud  he.  Not 
a  single  member  knew  of  Hiis  call,  or  Mb  declination.  It  was  on 
Wednesday  morning  that  he  decided  to  remain  with  his  church. 
On  that  night  he  went  to  his  prayer  meetii^,  determined  to 
ask  his  church  to  begin  a  revival  campaign.  He  hoped  that 
such  meetings  would  melt  the  heart  of  his  church  and  weld  them 
into  harmony  and  co-operation.  He  went  with  trembling, 
however,  because  the  men  who  were  giving  him  the  most 
trouble  had  been  saying  durii^  the  winter  that  the  time  had 
not  arrived  for  revival  meetings,and  be  feared  that  they  would 
oppose  his  sugg^ion  about  having  the  meetings.  That  nigh  t 
the  climax  came.  When  the  pastor  presented  the  quesUcoi  as 
to  whether  the  meetings  should  be  attempted  and  if  so,  who 
should  hold  them,  the  leader  of  the  oppoation  arose  and 
s^d: 

"I  believe  we  ought  to  hold  the  meetii^  and  I  am  ready  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  HAPPY  PRAYER  MEETING         255 

anxious  to  go  into  it.  I  want  to  be  converted  over  again, 
for  I  do  not  feel  ready  to  die  as  I  am.  And"  aaid  he  "I  want 
our  pastor  to  hold  these  revival  meetings  and  not  Mr.  Needham, 
or  anybody  else." 

No  sooner  had  be  said  this  than  brother  - — -  -  ■  ■  a  close 
associate  of  the  last  speaker  in  the  factional  trouble  said: 

"Brethr^i,  I  am  in  favor  of  our  pastor  holding  the  meeting. 
I  want  to  go  into  it  untrammeled.  The  time  is  come  for  our 
people  to  stop  tale  bearing  and  misjudging  each  other.  A 
meeting  we  must  have  and  I  want  the  pastor  and  nobody  else 
to  hold  it." 

Brother jumped  up  and  said: 

"These  are  the  best  speeches  I  have  heard  for  fifty  years  and 
I  move  we  have  a  hand  shake." 

"Not  yet"  spoke  up  Dr.  Hatcher  "put  it  off  a  httle  while; 
may  be  tiiere  are  some  who  are  not  ready  for  it,"  He  did  not 
wish  to  force  matters.  But  the  meeting  increased  in  power 
to  the  end,  one  brother  saying  "I  have  never  known  what 
religion  was  until  tonight  " 

"That  night  in  the  prayer  meeting"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  "those, 
who  for  so  many  years  had  blocked  my  way  and  embittered 
my  existence,  one  after  another,  quietly  laid  down  their  arms 
and  declared  their  loyalty  to  me  as  their  pastor  and  their 
readiness  to  work  with  me  in  the  future.  There  it  was — ^the 
end  had  come  in  a  moment,  unannounced  and  was  greeted  on 
my  part  with  no  noisy  demonstration,  no  thought  of  victory 
in  my  soul,  but  boundless  gratitude  to  God  and  with  confidence 
renewed  in  Amplest  terms  with  those  who  had  fought  me.  The 
war  was  over  and  I  was  there." 

It  seemed  to  be  the  ending  of  a  ten  year's  strain  and  every 
body  was  happy.  Dr.  Hatcher  rejoiced  in  it,  but  he  gave 
forUi  no  tumultuous  shout.  He  knew  the  frailty  of  human 
nature  and  postponed  his  celebration  of  victory.  On  a  former 
ocoason  some  of  these  hostile  brethren  had  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  abandoned  thdr  opposition  and  to  have  become  very 
friendly  to  him.    I,  a  boy,  was  jubilant  about  it  at  that  fonner 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


256  LETTER  TO  DR.  J.  L.  M.  CURRY 

tune  and  vhen  I  thai  epoke  to  him  about  it  as  we  woe  driving 
down  town  in  the  buggy,  I  expected  to  find  him  even  man 
OTerjoyed  than  I  was.  But  he  put  some  new  thoi^ts  in  me 
hy  replying:  "Ah  my  lad  human  nature  is  a  weak  stick  and 
we  must  not  lean  on  it  too  heavily.  I  rejoice  in  th^r  new 
friendliness  but  I  never  stake  my  destiny  on  men." 

He  believed  in  their  good  intentjona  and  hoped  for  tiie  best. 

His  mail  brou^t  him  a  hU&t  from  his  friend,  Dr.  J.  L. 
M.  Curry, — at  that  time  U.  S.  Embassador  to  Spun,  praising 

him  for  his  course  in  the  CI case.    "He  spreads  the 

glory  very  thickly  upon  me— indeed  ha  overdoee  it"  he  wrote 
me.     His  reply  to  Dr.  Cuny's  letter  was  as  followa: 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Feb.  16th,  1887. 

"Mt  Dear  Brotheh, — Your  letter  r^reahea  me.  It  comes  at 
a  good  moment — after  I  have  cooled  down  from  the  excit^noit 
of  my  prison  ordeal.  The  experience  was  essentially  bitter  to  me 
in  many  respects  and  peculiarly  so,  in  the  coarse  and  unsavory 
sort  of  notoriety  into  which  it  brought  me.  That  you  thought 
well  of  my  performance  is  pleasant  to  me.  It  is  exceedin^y 
agreeable  to  extract  some  drops  of  comfort  from  an  affair  which 
had  so  many  pfunful  features. 

"My  own  affairs — not  financial  are  in  a  lu^py  frame.    .    . 

"My  church  is  in  a  blessed  state.  You  know  I  have  had  a 
rough  and  discordant  element  to  contend  with.  It  has  been  an 
arrow  in  my  heart  and  often  I  faced  the  question  of  pulling  out, 
but  a  strong  hand  held  me.  I  could  not  go.  This  winter  I  had 
the  offer  of  another  field.  .  .  I  declined.  That  day  a  cyclone 
struck  my  church — a  holy,  heavenly  thing  it  must  nave  been. 
It  came  suddenly  and  blew  over  the  ramparts  of  my  hostile 
and  cranky  brethren.  They  furled  their  banners  and  fell  into 
line.  So  far  as  I  can  see  they  are  in  perfect  accord  with  me. 
As  I  had  no  resoitments  to  conquer,  I  met  them  far  down  ^e 
road  and  took  than  to  my  heart.  It  is  tiie  Lord's  doings  and 
marvelous  in  the  sight  of  men.  Last  night  we  b^an  a  meeting 
and  the  agns  are  most  propitious.  .  .  I  blush  to  send  you 
such  a  preposterous  letter, — so  tedious,  so  egostistic  and  so 
laden  with  posap.  I  can  trust  it  with  you  but  I  fear  that  if  it 
should  fall  mto  Mrs.  Curry's  hands  she  would  despise  me  for- 
ever.   9end  me  some  points  on  Dr.  Jeter  and  I  will  see  if  I 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  SEVEN  WEEKS'  MEETING         257 

camiot  Ume  myself  up  for  a  better  perfonuance  by  tiie  next 
time.    .    .    "Yours  as  ever 

"W.  E.  Hatoher." 

Never  before  had  the  light  ahone  so  brightly  on  hia  pastorate 
as  now.  The  momentouB  fact  with  him,  at  this  time,  however, 
was  his  revival  campaign. 

"I  never  saw  such  beanung  faces,"  he  writes.  "Eve^body 
seems  in  ecstasy — so  much  so  I  fear  they  will  not  work  for  the 
salvatioD  of  fflnuers  as  they  ought." 

The  meeting  ran  for  seven  weeks,  during  which  time  the 
entire  leadership  of  the  campaign,  including  all  the  preaching 
was  upon  his  shoulders.  On  Sunday  night,  at  the  end  of  the 
third  week,  he  wrote: 

"It  has  been  long  indeed  since  I  have  had  such  a  satisfactory 
Sunday.  Our  Sunday  School  had  over  six  hundred  in  it.  The 
congr^ation  packed  the  Soor  and  neariy  filled  the  galleries." 

Two  hundred  men  came  forward  to  express  thrar  devotion 
to  Christ  and  the  church. 

"It  was  a  dght  not  to  be  forgotten.  In  the  afternoon  I  had 
nearly  100  in  my  Boys  Meeting.  This  was  followed  by  a  Men's 
Meeting,  which  must  have  bad  150  in  it.  Tonight  we  had  a 
packed  bouse." 

"I  never  saw  the  church  work  so  well.  .  ."  said  he;  and 
he  also  remarked  that  he  thought  that  Grace  Street,  the  First 
and  the  Leigh  Street  Chiirches  ought  to  divide,  and  then  he 
added:  "We  could  multiply  by  dividing.  This  is  spiritual 
mathematics."  At  the  end  of  the  fourth  week,  on  Sunday 
night,  he  writes  and,  after  telling  of  blessed  experiences  at 
the  morning  and  afternoon  services  he  says: 

"Tonight  the  crowd  was  simply  overwhehmng.  It  padced 
even^  part  of  the  room 

"I  find  myself  decidedly  nervous  tonight.  Miss  Effie  is 
charmed  with  Grace  Street.    She  thinks  it  a  great  church  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


258  A  GROWING  EEVIVAL 

really,  if  its  present  excellent  Epirit  continues,  it  will  be  the 
happiest  church  and  the  most  useful  in  the  city.  .  .  There 
is  the  UBual  parade  of  Colle^ans  in  the  parlor  tonight." 

"The  harmony  is  delightful"  writes  my  mother.  During 
these  meetings  the  printer  was  ever  bombarding  him  for  copy 
for  the  Jeter  book.  At  the  aid  of  the  fifth  week,  my  mothn 
writes  me: 

"Your  father  has  been  so  wrought  up  that  I  am  cdmilarly 
affected  with  him  through  sympathy,  and  long  for  the  time  to 
come  when  he  will  be  freed  from  his  exacting  work  of  preparing 
copy.  .  .  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  he  has  too  much  on 
him  and  that  he  must  not  keep  on  any  longer  than  is  necessary, 
at  this  rate.  He  is  more  nervous  than  I  have  ever  known  him, 
and  has  not  so  much  elasticity  and  spirit  aa  formerly." 

On  Sunday  night  he  wrote  me: 

"I  have  had  another  busy  Sunday  on  the  earth.  Things 
have  rolled  high  at  Grace  Street.  About  660  in  the  Sunday 
School,  which  is  the  highest  for  many  days.  The  morning 
congr^ation  was  simply  grand — many  ladies  had  to  go  in  the 
gallery.  There  must  have  been  150  youi^  men  and  boys  in 
the  gallery.  The  lower  fioor  had  a  solid  padc.  There  were  two 
converaons, 

"In  the  afternoon  I  had  my  boys  meeting — attended  the 
funeral  of  Miss  Mary  Ballou's  sister  and  went  to  S.  S.  Aaaociar 
tion.  When  I  readied  home  I  bad  company — Mr.  McRae 
and  Mr.  Wycliffe  Abrahams.  Tonight  another  overflowing 
crowd.    I  baptized  seven." 

The  tide  of  the  meetii^  continued  to  rise.  During  the 
oxth  week  my  mother  wrote  on  the  15th: 

"Mr,  X told  your  Papa  last  night  that  he  never 

meant  to  ^ve  any  more  trouble  in  any  church — ox  years 

of  strife  had  cured  him.    He  said  he  and  Z greatly 

appreciated  your  Papa's  kindness  to  them,  but  he  uiought 
that  some  people  might  object  to  their  being  so  prominent  and 
that  he  must  not  call  on  them  to  pray  so  often.  Your  Papa 
hopes  to  finish  his  book  in  two  weeks. 

"Today  was  great,"  he  writes.  "We  had  672  in  the  Sunday 
School.  I  have  not  preached  a  sermon  that  seemed  to  move 
the  people  eo  mudi  as  that  of  this  moming.    It  is  so  blessed 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CORRECTING   CARELESS  SPEECH   259 

to  be  upheld  by  the  free  sympathy  of  my  people  that  I  seem 
not  to  get  weary. 

"Several  deaominational  questions  have  been  giving  me  some 
embarrassment  of  late.  They  press  me  heavily,  when  I  feel 
that  I  am  too  much  engrossed  to  consider  them.  I  cannot 
mention  them  now." 

On  the  13tb,  he  wrote  me: . 

"I  anticipate  the  completion  of  my  book  with  something  of 
the  feeling  with  which  a  convict  must  contemplate  hia  release 
from  prison.  I  will  have  a  jolly  time  restii^  when  the  buniea 
rolls  off, — if  the  Lord  will." 

In  one  of  his  letters  to  me  he  gives  a  peep  into  the  dining 
room  with  the  family  at  the  table.  Some  of  the  childr^i  were 
in  the  habit  of  ex^geratlon  in  their  table  talk  and  he  set  about 
breaking  it  up.    He  writes  me; 

"The  chief  topic  of  conversation,  at  our  table,  is  exwjeration, 
May  and  Lill  are  the  exagg^ratora  and  Edith  and  Tare  the 
critics.  I  am  constantly  struck  with  the  care  and  accuracy  of 
EdiUi,  in  what  she  says.  It  is  rare  that  she  ever  overstates 
anything.  Her  moral  perceptions  are  very  clear  aod  correct. 
She  can  see  and  state  a  thing  with  singular  fidelity.  Every- 
thing is  real  to  her.  She  is  as  yet  (and  may  she  ever  be)  a 
stranger  to  all  crooked  devices." 

He  finds  yet  another  interloper  in  the  dining-room  vocabu- 
lary,— the  word  "certwnly."  "I  certainly  am  thirsty,"  "I  cer- 
t^nly  did  have  a  good  time  last  night,"  "That  certainly  is  an 
interestii^  book"  were  some  of  the  ^cclamatitms  by  which  some 
of  the  children  at  the  table  overworked  the  much  abused  word. 

"We  are  having  a  Uvely  time  at  the  table"  he  writes  "with 
the  rule  about  the  use  of  the  word  'Certainly'.  If  any  one  uses 
the  word  t«n  times  he,  or  she,  loses  butter  for  one  supper.  May 
has  gone  without  butter  five  times.  Tonight  she,  Ckxinie,  Lill 
and  Edith  went  minus  butter  at  supper.  Kate  has  been  on  the 
hooks  only  once.  They  enjoy  it-that  is,  the  fun.  Lill  and  Edith 
inmsted  on  'joining'  and  of  course  they  had  to  suffer  the  penalty 
which  they  think  is  quite  an  honor.  The  butter  bill  is  much 
reduced — ^to  the  satisfacticm  of  your  mother." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


260         AN  ARTICLE  BOILED  DOWN 

Ha  waged  war  agwnst  the  overloading  of  sentences.  For 
example,  he  wrote  me  about  the  "exaggerators"  and  added  the 
following: 

"I  think  you  ought  to  tiy  your  hand  on  an  article  for  the 
Baltimore  Baptist.  You  might  work  it  up  carefully  and  by 
d^^ees.  It  is  very  important  for  you  to  practice  ^e  art  of 
composition.    Try  to  write — not  much,  but  well." 

I  acc^ted  his  suggestion  shut  my  door  out  at  my  couBtiy 
school  and  eased  my  pen.  The  subject  chosen  was  "Memory" 
-  and  I  wrote  and  rewrote  and  adorned  and  polished  the  article 
until  it  seemed  to  have  reached  the  pinnacle  of  my  literary  art 
and  I  sent  it  to  Bichmcsid  for  the  critical  eyes  of  my  father. 
In  a  few  days  the  manuscript  came  back  to  me  accompanied 
by  the  impresave  announcem^it  that  the  article  was  good 
but  that  it  had  an  overstock  of  words  and  must  be  cut  down. 
I  caught  my  breath  and  began  my  word  slaughter.  Some 
highly  prized  adjectives  were  regretfully  mustered  out  of 
service.  I  shook  the  sentences,  boiled  and  pressed  them  down, 
and  when  I  thought  I  had  reached  the  limit  of  reduction,  I 
sent  him  the  result.  To  my  surprise  and  chagrin,  a  few  days 
later,  on  opening  my  mail,  I  found  again  my  manuscript  returned 
to  me  with  a  letter  from  my  father  stating  that  I  bad  greatly 
improved  it,  but  that  it  was  not  yet  ready  for  publication  and 
must  be  boiled  down  again.  Once  more  I  tugged  at  it,  pulled 
the  paragr^bs  to  pieces,  reshaped  the  sentences  and  struck 
to  the  earth  every  interlopii^  word  and  sent  the  paper  to 
him  once  more.  I  never  saw  the  manuscript  again,  but  in 
a  week  or  so  I  had  the  new,  strange  pleasure  of  reading  my 
article  in  the  Baltimore  Baptist.  The  opening  sentence  in  the 
manuscript,  which  I  first  sent  him  read  as  follows.  "It  is  one 
of  the  distinctive  marks  of  the  mind  that,  whatever  it  cmce  as- 
quires,  it  ever  afterwards  retains."  That  s»it«ice  seemed  to 
me  to  have  a  swing  and  dash  that  would  startle  even  the  elect. 
Whei^my  father  got  tbro;^  with  me  and  I  got  throi^  with 
that  sentence  it  read  "What  the  mind  acquires,  it  holds." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  SUNDAY  SCHEDULE  261 

"Trim,  "polish  and  refine  every  paragraph"  he  writes  at 
another  time,  "sharpen  to  the  keenest  edge,  and  let  each  word 
bear  part  in  ^ving  body  to  thought" 

At  one  time,  as  editor  of  the  Herald,  he  uttered  a  warning 
to  those  who  wrote  articles  for  his  paper,  urging  them  to  a^ul 
ooiy  the  cream, — and  that  condensed, — of  thdr  thoughts. 

"At  this  feast"  he  says  "watered  milk  is  a  thii^  of  loathing. 
To  m^  of  genius  there  are  times  of  unwonted  inspiration — 
when  their  powers  are  quickened  into  extraordinaiy  vitality, 
vhen  they  catch  new  and  ravishing  viaons  of  truth  and  when 
their  thoi^ts  leap  into  living  words.  Let  them  send  us  their 
diE^atches  from  the  mountain  tops  and  they  who  read  will 
look  upward  and  grow  better." 

His  life  for  the  next  nx  or  dght  months  was  crowded  with 
sermons,  lectures,  editorials,  meetings  and  trips  in  many 
directions.  He  dehvered  a  lecture  to  the  negroes, — at  which 
he  said  that  he  ha4  a  ripping  crowd  and  tiiat  Uiey  almost 
laughed  themselves  pale.  His  Boys  Society  under  his  (Erection, 
gave  an  entertainment  with  their  dialogues  and  "hundreds  were 
turned  away." 

"RiCHicoND,  Va.,  April  24th,  1887. 
"My  Dear  E: 

"Here's  my  day: 

1.  Breakfast  at  8:15. 

2.  Study  sermon  till  10. 

3.  In  Sunday  School  till  11. 

4.  Sermon  till  12:15. 

5.  Collection  for  State  Missions  till  12:45. 

6.  Dinner  and  company  till  2:30. 

7.  Boys  Meeting  till  3:30. 

8.  Funeral  tiU  4:30. 

9.  Rehearsal  of  boys  till  5:30. 

10.  Young  Men's  Missy  Sodety  till  6. 

11.  Study  of  sermon  till  6:30. 

12.  Rest  and  supper  till  7:30. 

13.  Study  of  sermon  till  8. 

14.  Preaching  till  9. 

15.  Baptism  and  Inquirers  till  9:30. 

16.  Boy's  rehearsal  till  10:15. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


262  LIFE  OF  DR.  J.  B.  JETER 

"The  girls  have  had  a  harvest  of  Bcrags  tod^.  Thia  must 
end  here.  "Yours,  "W.  E.  H." 

At  the  Southern  Baptist  ConTration,  in  Louisville  m  May,, 
he  engineered  a  collection  for  the  purohase  of  a  large  Thea- 
tre in  Havana,  Cuba,  for  missionaiy  work.  "And  it  was 
largely  due  to  his  exquiate  tact  and  managanent"  says  the 
Herald  "that  it  came  out  so  well.  It  is  hard  to  have  any  patience 
with  a  man  who  can  do  so  many  things  so  well  as  Dr.  Hatcher 
can." 

At  last,  his  new  book,  "life  of  Jerenuah  B.  Jeter",  came  from 
the  press  and  met  an  enthuoastjc  reception.  Spurgeon,  the 
great  London  preacher,  said  to  Dr.  James  Nelson  "I  have  read 
every  word  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  Life  of  Jeter,  and  there  is  not  a 
dull  line  in  it."  He  had  been  beset  with  tribulations  in  his 
efforts  to  write  it,  for  it  was  during  his  harrowing  experience 

in  the  CI case  and  later,  during  his  seven  weeJcs 

meetings,  that  he  had  done  most  of  the  work. 

"For  the  man  who  has  three  sermons  to  produce"  he  writes 
"various  religious  services  to  conduct,  pastoral  calls  to  make, 
funerals  and  marriages  to  attend,  company  congenial,  and  some 
times  very  otherwise,  to  entertun,  daily  tides  of  letters  to  read 
and  answer,  with  Board  meetings,  ecclesiastical  councils, 
committees,  ordinations  and  numberless  outside  engagements 
ever  pressing  upon  Mm  some  allowance  ought  in  common 
fairness  to  be  made  when  he  undertakes  to  write  a  book." 

He  wrote  the  above  concerning  Dr.  Jeter's  literary  labors, 
but  the  words  also  describe  his  own  e^>erience  in  writing  the 
Jeter  book. 

"What  is  more  delightful  than  a  life  of  lettered  ease"  says 
Cicero,  but  Dr.  Hatcher's  writings,  which  charmed  many 
readers,  were  bom  in  the  stress  and  rush  of  a  metropolitan 
pastorate.  It  was  of  course,  not  the  ideal  method  of  com- 
position. It  is  Eichter  who  says  "Never  write  on  a  subject 
without  first  having  read  yourself  full  of  it  and  never  read  on 
a  subject  without  having  thought  yourself  hungry  upon  it", 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LIFE  OF  DR.  J.  B.  JETER  263 

but  the  author  of  "The  life  of  J.  B.  Jeter,"  had  to  pick  up  his 
peu  while  on  the  run  and  use  it  amid  the  din  of  many  duties." 
This  was  his  first  and  in  some  respects  his  most  interesting 
book.  He  vaa  fortunate  in  his  subject,  for  Dr.  Jet^s  career 
was  a  remarkable  one.  He  and  the  Doctor  were  bom  in  the 
same  home  and  were  descended  from  the  same  grandfather. 
Od  the  opening  page  of  the  book,  he  says: 

"I  harbor  no  grudge  against  noble  birth  and  would  not  dis- 
parage the  benefits  which  belong  to  those  who  spring  from  dis- 
tinguished families.  At  the  same  time,  I  am  so  intensely 
American  in  my  sentiments  and  convictions  that  I  heartily 
endorse  the  popular  verdict  that  men  are  to  be  estimated  not 
by  the  accidents  of  fortune,  but  by  what  they  are  and  by  what 
they  do." 

After  speakii^  of  Doctor  Jeter  resolving  to  make  it  the  rule 
of  bis  life  "to  do  his  very  best,"  he  continues: 

"For  nearly  fourscore  years  he  walked  the  earth  inspired  at 
every  step  by  that  lofty  sentiment.  When  he  adopted  it,  he 
was  an  ignorant  and  unnoticed  youth;  but  when  he  came  to  the 
end,  a  crown  of  honor  was  upon  his  brow." 

He  pictures  the  happiness  of  Dr.  Jeter's  old  mother  whsi  he 
would,  in  the  days  of  his  greatness,  visit  her  in  h^  mounttun 
home: 

"Ah,  those  were  sunny  days  in  the  life  of  that  motherl  Who 
can  deacribe  the  pride  and  joy  with  which  she  bailed  bis  coming. 
What  charming  breaks  did  those  yearly  visits  maka  in  her 
monotonous  life.  With  what  swelling  rapture  did  she  gase 
upon  her  son,  now  rounded  into  fu&  manhood,  decked  in 
thickening  honors  and  with  the  seal  of  Clod's  blesdng  upon 
,  him." 

In  comparing  the  Jeters  and  the  Hatchers  he  writes: 

"I  have  already  qioken  of  the  mercurial  and  boujrant  tem- 
perament of  the  Jeters.  The  Hatchers  are  not  their  equals 
m  elasticity  and  ardor  of  nature — but  they  are  more  practical. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


264  LIFE  OF  DR.  J.  B.  JETER 

sobea-  and  thoughtful.    Dr.  Jeter  combined  the  best  dunoter- 
istios  of  both  familiee." 

He  thus  r^ers  to  Dr.  Jeter's  birthplace  which  was  tdeo  his 
own  birthplace: 

'"He  house  in  which  he  was  bom  would  cut  a  sorry  figure 
if  brought  in  compariBon  with  the  stately  and  imposing  edifices 
which  are  now  quite  numerous  in  Northern  Bedford.  At  the 
time  of  its  erection  it  was  probably  the  most  commodious 
private  residence  in  the  entire  community.  .  .  It  never 
Icnew  the  refining  touch  of  paint,  and  as  a  consequence  pre- 
sented to  the  eye  of  the  stranger  a  weather  beaten  and  neglected 
appearance.    But  it  was  not  without  its  attractive  appearance. 

"Inasmuch  as  it  happens  that  in  describing  the  birthplace 
of  Dr.  Jeter  I  am,  at  the  same  time,  describing  my  own  diild- 
hood  home,  I  must  be  pardoned  for  the  warmth  and  tender- 
ness of  my  words. 

"Oh,  with  what  deep  passion  did  I  love  that  quiet  old  moun* 
taia  home.  To  my  boyish  fancy  it  was  the  center  of  the  world. 
It  seemed  always  to  nave  been  what  it  was  and  for  awhile  I 
never  dreamed  that  it  could  change.  In  all  the  heartbreaks 
and  woes  of  subsequent  Uf  e  t  have  known  no  sorrow  compared 
with  that  sickness  of  heart  which  came  with  my  first  absences 
from  my  father's  house.  Even  now,  under  the  glow  of  an 
affectionate  memoty,  the  faces  and  scen^  of  those  early  dajn 
take  on  a  beauty  so  mellow  and  sad  that  I  cannot  recall  them 
except  with  moistenii^  eyelids. 

"Beneath  the  cherry  tree,  at  the  comer  of  the  gard^i,  fll^ 
the  dust  of  my  Presbyterian  mother,  who  died  on  my  fourth 
birthday  and  who,  with  her  dying  breath,  prayed  that  her 
two  sons  might  become  ministers  of  the  gospel. 

"There,  in  his  lonely  old  age,  dweit  my  father  who  made  his 
last  bom  his  companion  by  day  and  always  locked  him  fondly 
to  his  breast  through  every  Uve-long  night.  .  .  Royal 
evoiings  that  household  used  to  have  around  the  winter  fires, 
with  ample  stores  of  apples,  chestnuts  and  cider,  aometinna 
sin^png  the  old  songs,  sometimes  reading  aloud  the  paper  or 
the  book  and  always  ready  for  the  spicy  jest  or  the  crafty 
practical  joke.   Alas,  the  house  is  now  in  the  hands  of  strangers". 

He  describes  the  birth  of  Dr.  Jeter.  After  telling  of  a  "shed 
room"  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  with  "no  fire  place,  no  out- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LIFE  OF  DR.  J.  B.  JETER  265 

door  and  only  one  window  that  looked  towards  the  West"  he 
continues: 

"Such  truant  sunbeams  as  ventured  to  peer  through  that 
little  window  on  the  18th  of  July,  1802,  enjoyed  the  distinction 
of  being  the  first  to  hul  the  advent  of  the  then  nameless  little 
stranger,  whose  subsequent  story  is  to  be  unfolded  in  these 


"The  reader  must  have  found  out  already  that  I  am  no 
blind  eulogist  of  Dr.  Jeter.  Of  his  errors  and  mist^es  I  have 
spoken  with  unsparing  candor.  .  .  It  surprised  me  that 
I  oould  not  put  my  band  upon  anything  in  his  later  life  which 
could  be  branded  as  manifestly  witmg." 

"It  WW  said  that  be  did  not  know  men.  .  .  There  are 
two  ways  to  find  out  men.  The  first  is  by  su^idouB  vigi- 
lance. We  assume  that  they  are  false  and  need  to  be  watch^. 
It  is  a  mild  form  of  the  detective  system.  We  eye  our  neighbor 
as  a  doubtful  character  and  expect  to  catch  him  in  villainy. 

"The  other  is  by  trustfulness.  We  start  with  the  supposition 
that  men  are  upright  and  mean  well.  We  trust  them  and  put 
tbem  upon  their  honor. 

"Wh^i  he  turned  his  two  blue  eyes  upon  a  stranger  and 
subjected  him  to  an  examination  he  could  find  out  about  as 
much  as  a  professional  detective.  If  he  convicted  a  man  of 
rascality  he  refused  to  help  him;  if  he  stood  the  test  he  helped 
him  freely;  if  the  case  was  in  doubt  he  gave  the  applicant  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt." 

"The  only  half-hearted  thing  about  him  was  his  misery.  He 
could  not  produce  a  strong  case  of  melancholy.  His  lamp  of 
hope  burned  dimly  at  times,  but  never  went  out.  If  he  b^an 
to  grow  gloomy,  be  soon  came  in  raght  of  the  ludicrous." 

Concerning  Dr.  Jeter's  memory  he  says: 

"He  refused  to  trust  his  memory  in  the  days  of  its  strength, 
and  it  never  fotgave  him  for  the  wrong." 

"Dr.  Jeter's  love  of  hfe  was  wonderfully  intense.  .  .  He 
loved  nature,  loved  men,  loved  conflict,  loved  honor,  loved  to 
think,  loved  to  grow,  loved  to  learn,  and  loved  to  work.  The 
blasts  of  adversity  sometimes  struck  him  rudely  and  his  burdens 
often  got  heavy,  but  sorrow  never  weakened  in  him  the  earthly 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


266  LIFE  OF  DR.  J.  B.  JETER 

tie.    The  sea  of  life  was  often  rough  and  threw  ita  blinding 
spray  into  his  face,  but  the  waves  never  went  over  him. 

"He  was  not  tormented  by  any  imcertainity  as  to  his  future. 
He  did  not  cling  to  the  ship  from  &  dread  of  the  aea.  .  .  I 
heard  him  aay  publicly  several  times  that  if  his  religious  hopes 
were  not  well  founded  he  would  probably  die  without  finding 
it  out.  He  waa  so  clear  on  his  assurance,  so  deep  and  strong 
in  his  joy  and  so  entranced  by  his  heavenly  anticipations  that 
he  said,  if  deluded,  he  never  expected  to  be  undeceived." 

Concerning  hia  end  he  writes: 

"He  i^d  not  ^e  out  of  time.  Let  no  brokm  shaft  mark  the 
spot  where  sleeps  his  form.  Let  his  monument  be  erect,  tower- 
ii^  and  complete  and  upon  its  apex  hang  that  crown  of  glory 
which  is  the  peculiar  glory  of  the  old. 

"Time  scattered  snow  flakes  on  his  locks;  care  furrowed  his 
face  and  burdens  bent  his  shoulders;  but  grace  kept  him  bouyant 
joyful  and  busy  to  the  end.  .  .  The  ink  had  scarcely  dried 
in  his  pen  when  the  ai^el  came  to  oaU  him." 

It  is  in  such  rich  and  luminous  style  that  he  teUs  the  story , 
of  Dr.  Jeter's  life.  He  follows  him  through  his  career  as  pastor, 
author  and  editor  closing  with  the  cluster  on  "The  happy 
end." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

1887-1888 

LOVB  FOB  BEDFOBD.     "life  OF  ).  B.  JBTBe"  CRITICIZED.     DBIVINQ 
OVER  THE  BOT.      OENIJINBNES8.      OBIQINALITT. 

He  had  proinised  his  friend,  Dr.  P.  S.  Henaon,  of  Chici^, 
an  article  for  tiie  Baptist  Teacher  and  he  receved  from  the 
Doctor  the  following  letter: 

"Mt  Deab  Hatcher: 

"Wherefore  comest  thou  not  to  time?  I  am  on  the  tjp-toe 
of  expectation  for  that  promised  article.  "Now,  I  want  you 
all  to  be  so  atill"  said  the  visiting  Sunday  School  orator,  "that 
you  could  hear  a  pin  drop";  and  we  gamins,  huddled  in  the  Mis- 
sion school,  grew  suddei^y  silent  with  a  painful  stillness.  "Let 
her  drop"  said  an  impossible  wretch.  I  have  been  wMting 
and  keeping  stiil.  Now  beloved,  let  her  drop — only  dont  let  it 
be  an  ordinary  pin,  but  a  javelin — a  spear  of  Ithuriel,  or  some- 
thit^  both  sharp  and  weighty.  Let  her  drop,  next  week,  if 
possible. 

"Coming  for  a  moment  to  still  graver  matters — My  heart 
is  set  on  having  you  come  to  Chicago,  if  the  thing  can  by  any 
means  be  compared." 

There  came  from  his  editorial  pen  at  this  time  a  bright 
article  on  the  Monk^.  It  wore  the  title,  "An  Unworthy 
Ancestor",  and  began  as  follows: 

"Since  Mr.  Darwin  and  several  other  gentlemen  have  de- 
dded  that  we  descended  from  the  monkey,  we  have  quite  a 
different  feeling  for  the  monkey.  It  fills  us  with  peculiar 
emotions  to  visit  the  Zoological  Gardens.  It  ia  an  outrage 
upon  our  finer  affections  to  see  our  ancestors  locked  up  in  a 
267 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


268  MULTITUDINOUS  TASKS 

c^e  and  kept  on  exhibition.  It  seems  wrong  for  us  to  have 
to  pay  an  admisdoD  fee  for  the  privilege  of  indulging  a  fond 
glance  at  our  forefathers.  It  is  a  great  shock  to  our  family 
pride  when  some  crippled  littie  It^an  organ  grinder  oomes 
hobbling  along  the  streets  and  puts  out  one  of  our  emaciated 
grandfathers,  with  a  string  around  his  neck,  and  compels  him 
to  dance  for  the  amusement  of  his  thankless  posterity." 

The  next  paragraph  draws  a  picture  of  the  appeals  that  were 
presong  him  and  the  startling  fact  ia  that  it  re[»«8eiits  the 
conditions  under  which  he  lived,  not  merely  for  that  season, 
but  substantially  for  all  seasons  iind  during  all  the  years  of  his 
Bichmond  ministry. 

"Letters,  letters,  letters.  Mercy  on  usi  What  a  floodi  We 
write  and  we  write  and  yet  there  is  the  pile  steadily  growing 
and  frowning  vengefully  upon  us.  This  wants  a  situation  for 
a  young  man;  this  asks  for  a  Sunday  School  speech;  this  is  a 
request  for  some  dialogues;  this  one  has  a  church  to  build  and 
is  reaching  for  our  pockets;  this  one  dedres  a  lecture  and  so 
does  this,  and  this,  and  this,  and  five  others;  this  anoints  us 
with  oil  and  sohcits  ud  in  preparing  a  commencement  speech; 
this  one  praises  us  for  something  we  never  did  and  this  lashes 
us  for  not  doing  something  that  we  did;  this  one  wants  a  rec- 
ommendation as  a  teacher  and  this  is  a  boy  with  his  first  piece 
for  public  print;  this  is  a  ctdl  for  a  commencement  address; 
this  an  invitation;  this  an  ordination;  this  is  a  bill,  this  anotbv 
bill;  Ah,  mysterious  life.  Little  dreamed  we,  when  we  got 
our  first  letters  years  ago,  that  it  would  oome  to  this.  But 
it  has  come." 

The  Herald  thus  refers  to  his  speech  at  the  College  Com- 


"Dr.  Wm.  E.  Hatcher  delivered  the  Tanner  and  Gwin 
medals.  There  is  no  man  in  Virginia  who  can  speak  so  grace- 
fully and  appropriatdy  on  such  an  occasion  as  Dr.  Hatcher." 

He  wrote  quite  tenderly  about  the  love  which  men  have  tat 
localities — that  mysterious  yearning  fm  certain  spots  <rf  earth. 
In  writing  of  his  passionate  love  for  Bedford,  he  tells  of  how 
resentful  he  felt  at  the  changes  which  be  found  in  his  old 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LOVE  FOR  BEDFORD  269 

county — ruthless  cbaoges  in  the  people,  in  the  homes  &nd  m 
the  woodlands,  and  of  how  he  therefore  detomined  to  ke^ 
away  from  the  country. 

"Hiese  changes  hit  me  hard  enough,  at  first"  he  writes.  "I 
said  agiun  and  again  that  change  was  an  outrage  and  that 
violence  had  been  done  to  the  very  sanctities  of  my  childhood. 
Once,  or  twice,  I  kept  away  for  years  and  thought  that  the 
stru^e  was  over.  Not  so,  Ob  friends;  not  so;  it  could  not  be 
BO.  That  mystery  within  me — ^that  poignant,  insatiable  yearn- 
ing was  still  alive  and  it  would  grow  on  me  until  further  resis- 
tance seemed  madness.  The  hills,  the  trees,  the  highways  and 
the  homes  had  ^ored  me,  or  pitilessly  deserted  me,  and  that 
too  after  I  had  loved  them  with  such  rich  and  wondrous  de- 
voti<«. 

"And  yet  I  had  to  go  back.  Why  I  went — but  that  question 
is  out  of  order.  That  is  a  problem  for  the  philosopher  to  tackle — 
that  is,  if  he  f  edls  any  interest  in  it.  Surely  it  comes  not  within 
Uie  scope  of  my  purpose,  or  power,  to  tell  why  my  local  passion 
is  so  sbong;  but  I  know  it  is  strong;  it  is  stronger  than  ever. 
My  soul  would  flame  with  love  for  Bedford  if  Bedford  were 
uumhabited  and  I  were  to  pass  through  it  alone  at  night." 

This  summer  he  vidts  his  old  boyhood  home  in  Bedford: 

"As  for  the  dear,  old  homestead,  built  by  Rev.  Jeremiah 
Hatcher  a  full  century  ago,  the  birthplace  of  Dr.  Jeter,  the  old 
seat  of  hospitality  and  me  spot  endeared  to  us  by  many  ties, 
we  know  not  how  to  speak  of  it.  There  it  stands  yet,  but  it 
seems  not  the  place  it  once  was.  We  could  have  cried  for 
sorrow  that  the  garden,  the  orchard  and  old  'Acorn  Tree' 
were  gone  forever.  .  .  We  roamed  about  the  hills,  hngered 
at  the  old  rock-bound  spring,  sauntered  through  the  woods, 
gazed  at  the  quiet  unchanging  mountains  and  went  again  and 
again  to  the  spot  where  sleeps  the  dust  of  our  precious  dead." 

But  he  could  not  protract  his  visit.    Vir|^a  pastors  were 

after  him.    Dr.  L wanted  him  to  attend  the  Potomac 

Association  because  he  was  "anxious  that  the  A380cia4a<Hi 
make  a  good  impresraon  on  the  community."  Another  urged 
him  to  attend  the  Goshen  Association,  saying  "I  want  to 
arrange  to  (pve  you  a  good  home,  where  you  will  have  plenty 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


270  FHIENDLY  CRITICISM 

<d  ice  and  a  good  time.  .  .  If  you  prefer  to  have  a  home 
nearer  the  cburch,  I  wiU  give  you  the  best  I  can."  Another 
wanted  him  at  the  Mt.  Hermon  Association,  saying.  "You 
could  thus  be  at  the  ordination  and  could  get  back  to  your 
pollHt  on  Sunday."  Great  was  the  love  of  the  coimtiy  pastors 
for  him  for  they  well  knew  that  bis  heart  beat  sympathetically 
for  them. 

A  gentleman  criticized,  in  the  public  press,  his  "life  of  Dr. 
Jeter,"  but  he,  instead  of  seizing  his  sword  for  defense,  touched 
up  the  humorous  side  of  the  affair.  It  often  happened  that 
on  occasions  when  others  would  become  inQamed  and  when 
he  would  be  expected  to  be  exoit«d  he  would  dispel  the  panic 
b^  an  out-burst  of  humor.  In  the  present  instance,  instead 
of  fighting  for  his  book,  he  thus  writes: 

"Prof.  ,  of  MisEdouri,  deserves  the  thanks  of 

a  discriminating  public.  He  has  written  a  two  columned 
article  for  the  Central  Baptist,  in  which  he  rakes  the  "Idle 
of  Dr.  Jeter"  with  the  fine  comb  of  criticism.  He  points  out  the 
errors  in  the  book,  from  the  beginnii^  to  the  end,  particularly 
those  in  dates  and  punctuation.  We  have  enjoyed  the  pro- 
fessor's criticisms  exceedingly.  They  are  candid  and  consis- 
tently adverse.  He  does  not  blend  the  sweet  and  bitter  in 
tantalizii^  proportions.  He  does  not  feast  the  man  who  wrote 
the  book  first  on  caramels  and  then  on  mustard.  His  saccharine 
supphes  were  out  and  so  he  furnishes  a  square  meal  of  mustard. 
That  strikes  us  as  a  timely  thing.  The  life  of  Dr.  Jeter  has 
in  our  judgment  been  unduly  praised  and  the  author  needs  a 
viedtation  of  adversity.    This  he  has  recdved  at  the  hands  of 

Prof. ,  as  a  sort  of  parting  salute,  as  he  set  forth  on  his 

European  voyage.  We  dare  say  that  the  man  that  wrote  the 
Life  of  Jeter  wiU  enjoy  this  critical  review  more  than  any  other 
surviving  individual, — that  is  provided  he  survives." 

The  Baptist  Courier  opened  fire  on  Prof. for 

attacking  Dr.  Hatcher's  book  and  called  attention  to  the  fact 

that  Prof. 's  critical  article  had  in  it  certain  mistakes 

of  its  own.  Dr.  Hatcher  enjoyed  the  cross  fire  and  in  the  Balti- 
more Baptist  after  saying  that  the  Baptist  Courier  had  found 
some  slips  in  Prof.  's  article,  he  writes  that  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


RXnraiNG  OVER  THE  BOY  271 

Courier  "bai^  him  [Prof.  — '■ ]  out  in  a  somewliat 

rediculous  light  before  his  readers,"  and  then  Dr.  Hatcher  adds: 

"Now  we  submit  that  Prof. ought  to  be  excused. 

He  probably  wrote  his  article  in  a  huny  and  had  no  opportunity 
of  reading  his  proofs.  Besides,  it  seems  to  be  fated  that  when 
ft  man  undertakes  the  role  of  critic,  he  always  exposes  his 
flanks.  When  one  man  attempts  to  whack  another,  he  neces- 
sarily imcoveiB  his  ribs  to  bis  adversaries.    We  stand  by  Prof. 

and  recommend  that  the  author  of  the  Jeter  book,  whoever 

be  may  be,  accept  his  castigation  in  good  part." 

His  Summer  travels  bro^jgbt  him  a  startling  experience.  He 
was  in  Leesburg,  Va.,  vhea,  one  day,  a  friend  with  a  ptur 
of  horsefl,  of  which  he  seemed  immensely  proud  invited  him 
to  take  a  ride,  and  he  found  himself  seated  in  an  open  curif^ 
behind  ft  "bright,  aiiy  team.  The  roads  were  filled  with  dust" 
he  writes: 

"and  the  horses  moved  along  at  very  moderate  rate.  Down 
the  street  ahead  of  us,  at  the  gate  of  a  friend  of  ours,  stood  a 
little  boy  on  the  carriage  stone  with  his  back  to  us  and  dressed 
from  bead  to  toe  in  pure  white.  Suddenly  he  leaped  into  the 
street  and  began  to  spin  aroimd  in  boyous  glee.  It  was  a 
fflmple  imposfflbility  to  stop  the  horses  and  they  trotted  right 
along  over  him.  Though  frozen  with  terror  I  could  see  what 
happened  in  part.  The  fore  foot  of  one  of  the  horses  struck 
him  and  knocked  him  forward,  and  another  blow  came  from 
the  knee  of  the  other  horse,  rolling  him  over,  and  then  the  feet 
of  the  horses  went  over  him  and  the  front  of  the  carriage  hid 
whatever  else  occured  until  the  carriage  had  passed  him.  My 
friend  and  I,  with  something  of  the  feehng  of  murderers,  sprang 
out  and  with  infinite  dread,  turned  back  to  see  what  was  left. 
A  bunch  of  clothes  covered  with  red  dirt,  and  a  faint  scream  was 
what  we  saw  and  heard.  My  stalwart  friend  picked  up  what 
seemed  to  be  the  remains,  friends  ran  out  from  the  house,  seized 
the  child  and  rushed  back.  We  were  left  at  the  gate  and  know- 
ing not  what  else  to  do  we  climbed  back  into  the  carriage  and 
took,— behind  two  spanking  horses  and  aloi^  a  charming  road, — 
just  the  most  miserable  ride  that  any  two  innocent  men  ever 
had  over  any  road.  Tremblingly  we  drove  back  by  the  scene 
of  the  disaster  aa4  when  we  came  in  agbt  we  saw  a  boy  on  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


272  RUNNING  OVER  THE  BOY 

carriage  rock  dressed  in  the  whiteness  of  snow  and  as,  in  a  alow 
walk,  we  came  up  to  the  gate,  it  was  the  identical  boy.  The 
ladies  of  the  family  came  out  full  of  good  humor,  aimiably 
bantering  us  and  told  us  that  upon  examination  the  clothing 
of  the  boy  was  ripped  into  tatters,  but,  so  far  as  they  could 
find,  there  was  not  a  scratch  on  the  boy  that  drew  a  drop  of 
blood,  or  left  a  sense  of  pain.  My  friend  and  I  held  a  th^iks- 
giving  service  all  to  ourselves  and  took  another  and  a  very  en- 
joyable ride." 

What  became  of  the  boy?  Let  us  look  forward  several  years 
and  note  two  mteresting  sequels  to  the  above  incident.  The 
boy  at  that  time  was  about  five  years  old. 

"Six  or  seven  years,  after  that  I  was  walking  the  streets  of 
that  fair  town  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  Luray,  situated  near 
the  famous  Luray  Cave  and  as  we  sauntered  along  the  street 
quite  a  handsome  boy  came  dashing  by  us.  I  hailed  him  and 
drew  him  into  a  bantering  conversation.  A  lady  standing 
farther  down  the  sidewalk  broke  into  laughter. 

"  'You'd  better  be  talking  to  that  boy'  she  said  with  great 
emphasis.  'You  tried  to  kiU  him  once,  but  as  the  Lord  kindly 
rescued  him  from  the  wheels  of  your  Juggernaut,  I  think  you 
ought  to  try  to  do  him  some  good.'  It  was  even  so, — the 
identical  lad  that  we  drove  over  at  Leeeburg  now  twelve  years 
of  age.  We  had  a  pleasant  chat  together  and  I  told  the  (p>od 
mother  of  the  boy, — as  the  lady  turned  out  to  be,  that  I  would 
rejoice,  indeed,  if  God  would  give  me  the  joy  and  honor  of 
bringing  her  son  to  Christ.    We  parted  at  that. 

"Two  or  three  years  afterwards,  I  was  in  the  town  of  Berry- 
ville  assisting  Dr.  Julian  Broaddus  In  a  revival  service  which 
turned  out  to  be  delightfully  fruitful, 

"At  one  of  the  afternoon  meetings  there  was  unusual  evidence 
of  ^iritual  power.  The  christian  people  were  all  afiame  with 
seal  for  the  unconverted,  and,  just  b^ore  tiie  meeting  ended, 
I  invited  any  to  come  who  were  ready  to  accept  of  Jesus  Christ 
and  enter  into  His  service.  Promptly  a  strong  ludf  grown 
fellow,  full  of  emotion,  came  forward  and  decla^  his  faith. 
I  rejoiced  over  him  though  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  ask  his 
name,  and  while  I  was  talking  with  him  the  mother  appeared 
at;  my  side  and  said  that  my  prayer  had  h&en  answered.  This 
was  the  identical  boy  that  we  had  driven  over  at  Leesburg  and, 
through  the  tender  mercy  of  God,  I  did  have  an  opportunity 
of  taBng  a  little  part  at  least  in  the  salvation  of  her  boy." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CTJLPEPER  REVISITED  273 

He  draws  a  little  picture  of  a  happy  viat  this  Summer  to 
Culpeper,  where  he  had — many  months  before — held  a  wondeiv 
ful  revival.    No  one  imew  of  his  coming: 

"It  would  be  hard  to  tell"  a^d  he  "with  what  happy  expec- 
tations we  went  back  to  Culpeper.  We  tumbled  somewhat 
unexpectedly  out  of  an  early  train  and  stood  an  ungreeted 
stranger  upon  the  platform  of  the  depot.  A  sense  of  isolation 
seized  us  and  we  indulged  in  depressing  reflections  upon  the 
traDidency  of  revival  fame.  Not  a  hack-man,  not  a  baggage 
boy,  not  a  loafer  to  recognize  us  and  our  fluttering  heart  grew 
faint  and  desolate.  Modestly  taking  a  back  street  we  picked 
our  way  to  the  home  of  Major  Waite,  where  we  knew  there  was 
an  elegant  chamber,  named  in  our  honor  and  ever  kept  wuting 
for  OUT  coming.  What  a  welcomel  Bless  the  Lord  for  good 
folks.  That  night  the  bell  of  the  old  church,  which  stan(£  on 
the  site  of  the  old  Culpeper  Jail,  rang  out  the  summons  to  the 
people  to  come  once  more  to  hear  the  Heavenly  message.  In 
short,  Dr.  James,  [the  pastor]  being  of  an  imperious  turn  of 
mind,  had  issued  an  unauthorieed  notice  that  we  would  preach. 
What  a  blessed  night  was  that.  A  great  multitude  packed  the 
house.  The  famihar  faces  of  loved  ones  greeted  ua  from  every 
pew  and  the  dear,  old  choir  sang  the  mellow  precious,  old  hymns 
just  as  they  did  in  the  great  revival.  It  was  good  to  be  tiiere. 
The  air  seemed  laden  with  heavenly  spices  and,  in  the  music, 
we  seemed  to  hear  echoes  from  the  other  shore  where  the  ran- 
somed dwell.  We  doubt  not  that  Mr.  Cleveland  will  have  an 
imperial  reception  in  St.  Louis,  but  we  venture  to  say  that  he 
wiU  not  extract  from  the  occasion  a  tithe  of  the  sweet  delight 
which  we  found  in  that  night  of  handshaking." 

In  some  way,  the  letters  which  he  and  my  mother  wrote  me 
during  my  sesaon  of  18S7-8  at  Johns  Hopkins  University, 
in  Baltimore,  were  lost  and  consequently  I  am  prevented 
from  recording  his  movements  for  this  period  with  much 
detail.  During  October  he  made  a  httle  dash  into  Chesterfield 
County,  which  lay  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  from  Richmond 
and,  as  he  went  hurrying  through  ita  flelds  and  forests,  he 
little  dreamed  of  how  familiar  they  were  to  become  to  him 
in  the  future  years.  The  little  Bethel  Church,  to  which  he 
was  goii^,  would  have  reasons  in  the  future  days  to  rise  up 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


274  THE  WEAK  BROTHER 

and  call  Imn  blessed.   Bjs  love  for  Chesterfield  put  that  county 
next  to  Bedford  in  Ms  heart 

"We  slipped  the  pastoral  collar,"  he  said  "boarded  an  evening 
tnun  and  went  out  to  dear,  old  Bethel,  in  Chesterfield  County, 
Va.,  on  last  Friday  night  to  preach  for  Dr.  Winiree,  who  waa 
holding  a  protracted  meeUng.  It  was  the  glorious  days  of 
Pentecost  come  back  again.  We  can  hardly  remember  euch 
a  genuine  old  break-down  among  the  sinners.  How  delightful 
it  is  to  go  out  to  Bethel.  Old  Jacob  had  his  Bethel,  but  we 
venture  it  was  not  located  in  Chesterfield  and  did  not  have  in 
its  membership  the  Bakers,  the  Watkinses,  Martins  and  Jus- 
tuses." 

Again  he  writes: 

"Last  week  we  started  a  parvitudinous  midget  of  a  girl  to 
school  for  the  first  time.  She  came  back  with  an  order  to 
buy  five  books,  a  slate,  a  blank  book,  a  copy  book,  a  sponge, 
pencils  and  a  book  bag.  In  our  helplessness,  we  bought  them 
and,  when  they  were  piled  upon  the  midget's  shoulders,  she 
looked  like  an  Itahan  dwarf  with  his  harp  swung  upon  his 
back.  And  now  we  deferentially  ask  whether  it  is  best  for 
a  child  to  study  everything  at  one  time." 

He  preached  on  Oct.  30th,  on  "The  Weak  Brother/'  treating 
the  subject  as  follows: 

"1.  He  is  weak. 

2.  He  is  a  brother. 

3.  Christ  died  for  him. 

I.  Wherein  is  he  weak. 

(1)  Weak  in  conscience. 
(2;  Weak  in  ethical  points. 
(3)  Weak  in  doctrine. 

II.  What  are  we  to  do  with  him? 

(1)  Not  to  despise  him. 

(2)  Not  to  ignore  him. 

(3)  M^e  concessions  for  him. 

(4)  Come  down  to  him. 

(5)  Lift  him  up. 
III.  Motives  for  all  this. 

(1)  ^portunity  for  high  christian  charity. 

(2)  Hdping  the  weak  brother  is  hdping  Christ." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ADDRESS  IN  WASHINGTON  276 

He  attended,  in  Novranber,  the  Goieral  Association  and, 
that  h«  was  not  idle  during  its  sesdons  is  seen  from  the  fol- 
lowing note  in  the  Herald: 

"No  man  at  the  Assodation  did  better  serrice  than  Dr. 
Hatcher.  He  was  cooBtantly  helping  some  brother  out  of 
trouble.  Without  seekii^  to  detract  from  other  noble  leaders,  * 
we  will  say  that  he  was  l^e  leading  q>iiit  of  the  meetii^." 

His  congregation  overflowed  Us  building  and  enlargement 
was  necessary.  He  himself  yearned  for  a  new  building,  but 
many  of  his  members  could  not  get  their  courage  higher  than 
a  remodeling  of  the  old  structure.  It  was  his  policy  in  such  cases 
not  to  force  an  issue.  As  hia  members  were  not  ready  for  the 
larger  project  he  gave  them  season  for  reflection. 

He  Evangelical  Alliance  asked  him  to  speak  for  the  South 
at  their  meeting  in  Washington.  It  was  a  notable  gathering 
of  distinguished  ministers  and  laymoi  of  the  different  reli^ous 
denominations  from  the  North  and  South  and  it  was  a  magni- 
0cent  audience  which  he  addressed.  His  Subject  was  "The 
Christian  Resources  of  the  South,"  and  his  opening  words  were: 

"The  call  for  this  Conference  was  startling.  It  rai^  like  a 
fire  bell  in  the  night  and  there  was  something  positively 
pathetic  in  the  devout  response  with  which  it  woe  mfet.  This 
is  a  council  of  warriors  around  the  camp  fires  to  study  the 
movemraita  of  the  enemy,  estimate  our  own  strength  and  whet 
our  swords  for  t^e  conflict." 

It  was  on  this  occaaon  that  he  turned  during  his  address  and 
saw  the  time  ke^>er  on  the  point  of  touching  the  bell  to  an- 
nounce the  expiration  of  his  time  and  he  stariJed  the  bell 
brother  by  quickly  pointing  his  finger  at  him  and  sayii^ 
"Touch  that  bell,  if  you  dare,  but  only  at  the  risk  of  your  life." 

"The  roar  of  laughter"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  "which  instantly 
shook  the  house. was  something  not  to  be  foi^otten.  I  bad 
said  one  thing  at  least  which  the  vast  aasnnblage  approved. 
Just  then,  too,  the  noise  submded,  and  I  heard  Mr.  Dodge  say: 

'Let  the  bdl  alone;  let  him  go  his  way.'    He  didn't  know 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


276  COMMON  SENSE 

that  I  heard  him,  but  there  was  the  mudc  of  heaven  and  the 
freedom  of  earth  in  what  he  said." 

He  aided  his  friend,  Dr.  F.  M.  Ellia,  in  meetings  at  the 
Eutaw  Place  Church,  Baltimore,  January,  1888.  I  think 
I  never  saw  him  become  the  romping,  hilarious  boy  to  the 
extent  that  he  did  in  his  jollification  with  Dr.  EUis.  They 
played  bean  bag  one  day  in  the  dtting  room.  At  one  end  of 
the  room  was  a  board,  about  a  yard  square,  with  a  hole  in  the 
center,  and  from  the  other  end  of  the  room  the  players  would 
seek  to  tiurow  their  bean  bags  through  the  hole,  and  the 
rollickii^  times  that  the  two  Dr's.  had  in  these  contests  were 
interesting  to  behold. 

In  the  month  of  April  be  was  appointed  a  del^ate  to  the 
World's  Misaonory  Conference  to  be  held  in  Lcmdon  on  Jime 
9th,  but  he  could  not  attend. 

At  the  meetii^  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  in 
May,  "Dr.  Hatcher  made  one  of  his  wittiest  and  most  ad- 
mirable speeches  and  poured  oil  on  the  somewhat  troubled 
waters." 

How  often  in  reli^ous  gathering,  when  the  debate  seemed 
to  threaten  a  storm,  or  to  get  into  a  tangle,  he  would,  in  a  few 
words,  scatter  the  ominous  clouds,  or  disentangle  the  discus- 
a.<m,  and  put  everybody  in  a  good  humor.  He  had  a  gift  for 
bringing  mattors  down  to  a  common  sense  basis.  Dr.  S.  H. 
Greene  of  Washington  <Hice  said  to  me :  "That  which  always  im- 
pressed me  most  about  your  father  was  his  remarkable  common 
sense." 

He  had  what  Carlyle  rings  the  changes  on  so  frequently 
in  his  writii^, — the  love  of  realty.  He  saw  thit^  as  th^ 
actually  were  and  had  little  patience  with  the  fripperies  and 
insincerities  of  every-day  life. 

This  saved  him,  of  course,  from  many  absurdities  and  vun 
racitonents.  Sometimes,  in  public  assembUes,  the  discussion 
would  drift  far  into  the  air  and  he,  who  had  all  the  time  kept 
his  ^e  on  the  main  issue,  would,  by  a  word,  puncture  the  bal- 
loon and  bring  the  proceedings  down  to  mother  earth.    This 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ORIGINALITY  277 

simplioity  of  soul  aad  clearness  of  perception  made  him  a  wise 
leader  in  deliberative  assemblies. 

"He  taught  me  by  example"  saya  Dr.  W.  W.  Landnim  "the 
indispensableness  of  sanctified  commonsense  in  dealing  with 
problems  or  persons.  .  .  He  had  a  healthy  mindedness 
that  avoided  the  impracticable.  .  ■  Never  was  a  student  of 
human  nature  quicker  to  divide  the  false  from  the  true,  the 
apparent  from  the  real,  the  sham  from  the  genuine.  .  .  No 
wonder,  whenever  a  council  of  brethren  was  tangled  in  the 
brush  of  perplexity,  they  turned  to  him  to  p(»nt  the  way  out 
of  it." 

Akin  to  his  genuineness,  and  growing  out  of  it,  was  Ms  origi- 
nality. Men  called  him  unique  and  they  spoke  truly.  From 
his  youth  he  shied  off  from  the  beaten  paths.  In  a  speech 
before  his  literary  society  when  a  student  in  Collie  he  said: 
"Slander  me;  di^race  me,  but  for  heavens  sake  call  me  not  an 
imitator.  If  anything  betrays  a  httle,  contracted  soul — a 
narrow  disposititm  unmanly  and  groveling — ^it  is  that  disporatJon 
to  speak  hke  somebody  else."  This  scorn  for  traveling  another's 
track  lifted  him  out  of  the  ruts.  The  one  adjective  applied 
to  him  more  frequently  than  any  other  was  probably  the 
adjective  "inimitable,"  which  meant  that  he  stood  apart.  A 
writer  in  the  Herald  said  that  he  waited  for  some  competent 
pen  to  define,  characterize  and  value  Dr.  Hatcher.  "But  that 
is  no  ea^  task"  said  he.  "He  was  unique;  he  was  a  genius;  in 
his  personality  he  was  without  ancestry  and  he  will  be  without 
posterity.  Hence  the  difficulty  to  define  and  classify  him 
psychologically.  He  was  one  of  those  not  too  numerous 
characters  whose  charm  and  power  lie  in  the  unexplored  r^ons 
of  original  being,  rather  than  in  acquired  accomplishments — 
in  materials  which  the  arts  can  cultivate,  but  never 
create." 

■Whence  came  this  originality?  He  was  original  not  because 
be  aimed  to  be  unlike  everybody  else,  but  because  he  was  so 
genuine  and  real.  "The  merit  of  originality"  says  Carlyle 
"is  not  novelty  but  nncerity."    He  was  unlike  everybody  else 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


278  OMGINALITY 

because  he  was  bo  absolutely  hinuielf.    Men  are  bo  chained  to 
custom  that  th^  lives  are  throwu  into  a  conunoiL  mould. 

"The  slaves  of  custom  and  eataUished  mode, 
With  pack-horse  constanciy  we  keep  the  road, 
Crooked  or  straight,  through  quags  or  thorny  dells. 
True  to  the  jinking  of  our  leader's  bells." 

He  spoke  about  things,  not  according  to  acc^ted  standards, 
but,  as  he  himself  saw  them  and  consequently  he  was  ever 
saying  unique  things.  No  two  individuals  are  entirely  alike 
and  he  who  is  truly  himself  is  original.  He  would  not  use  other 
people's  anecdotes  but  culled  them  from  his  own  experience. 
No  wcHider  that  a  Missouri  pastor,  Rev.  J.  E.  Cook,  in  whose 
b<HQe  Dr.  Hatcher  spent  two  of  three  weeks,  said  of  him  after 
the  visit,  "This  man  is  fuU  of  surprises."  In  writii^  for  him, 
at  his  dictatjtm,  I  was  ever  impressed  with  his  determination 
to  avoid  the  threshed-out  phrases.  In  almost  every  paragraph, 
as  he  would  dictate,  there  would  be  some  colloquialism — like 
"the  courage  of  his  convictJ<Hts ',  or  "the  f^ple  of  his  ^e." 
"the  wee  sma'  hours,"  eto.,  that  would,  at  once,  suggest  itself 
as  the  appropriate  phrase  for  his  purpose.  It  would  have  h«ea 
easy  to  have  Itud  hold  of  that  which  was  ready  at  hand,  but, 
invariably,  he  would  weave  a  new,  fresh  garm^it  for  his  idea. 
"He  had  his  own  striking  way  of  putting  thii^"  says  Dr.  P.  T. 
Hale.  "I  could  tell  wh^  reading  the  article  from  his  pen,  that 
he  was  the  author,  without  seeing  his  name  signed  to  them." 
To  his  own  self  he  sought  to  be  true  and  in  doing  this  he  marked 
out  a  new  tnul. 

TliiB  reluctance  to  keeping  step  in  a  mere  proceaaon  showed 
itself  whea  asked  by  newspapers  to  furnish,  along  with  many 
others,  little  squibs,  or  notices,  for  publication.  '  Often  he 
would,  at  the  death  of  some  prominent  man,  receive  a  request, 
often  by  wire  from  some  paper  t^t  be  would  send  them  a  short 
tribute  to  the  deceased — say  about  ten  or  twenty  lines-  in 
length  to  be  published  with  several  other  such  brief  tributes, 
but  it  was  very  rare  that  he  yielded  to  such  a  request, — 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ORIGINALITY  279 

if  indeed  he  ever  jrielded.  He  would  usually  wi^t  and 
let  the  others  speak  th^  hurried  paragr^ha,  and  in  a  week, 
or  two,  he  would  said  to  the  paper  an  article  of  one  or  two 
columns  conceming  the  deceased  brother  and  this  he  would 
seek  to  make  a  masterpiece, — something  that  the  family  would 
treasure  through  the  coming  years. 

On  one  occasion  during  a  great  deoiominational  gathering  at 
a  chtirch  where  he  had  once  been  pastor  a  service  was  arranged, 
in  which  all  the  former  pastors  of  the  church — and  there  were 
several  of  them  in^attendauce  at  the  time — ^were  asked  to  be 
present  and  speak  words  of  greeting, — one  after  the  other. 
This  rapid-fire  procesdonal  schedule  did  not  suit  him  and 
conaequ^itly  he  was  invisible  on  the  occasion  referred  to.  Let 
it  not  be  imagined  that  he  had  an  exclufflveness  that  kept  him 
^>art  from  his  brethren,  or  made  him  imwilling  to  mingle  with 
than.  On  the  contrary  he  was  a  lover  of  moi.  But  when  doing 
his  tasks  he  preferred  to  choose  his  course  and  differentiate 
himself  from  all  others,  if  possble.  It  was  <mly  by  that  plan 
that  he  was  enabled  to  do  his  best. 

One  of  his  daughters,  One,  was  at  this  time  a  stud^kt  at 
Yassar  Coll^ie,  where  she  continued  her  course  until  she  won 
her  full  diploma  of  graduation, — several  years  later  she  took 
a  course  at  the  University  of  Chicago,  winning  the  de^p^e  of 
Ph.  D. 

Durii^  the  Summer  of  1887  he  was  busy  in  varied  trips  and 
labors.    He  supplied  on  one  Sunday  in  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

At  the  annual  meeting  of  the  church  in  May  1888,  he  urged 
his  church  to  send  out  100  of  its  members  to  form  a  new  Church 
saying:  "Let  us  not  be  afrwd;  let  us  multiply  by  dividing. 
God  can  give  us  another  100  members  this  year  to  take  the 
place  of  these  100."  One  year  later,  at  the  annual  meeting 
the  clerk  reported  exactly  100  new  members  received  during 
the  past  year. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


TRIP  TO  EUROPE,      PRESIDENT  OF  THE  GENERAL  ASSOCIATION. 
BAPTIST  CONGRESS. 

With  bis  prosperoua  church  he  stood  oa  a  high  pinnacle 
and  the  future  loomed  brightly  before  him.  And  yet  his 
burdens, — so  manifold  and  heavy — were  breaking  him  down 
and  he  found  that  he  "must  either  rest  of  die,"  He  decided  to 
seek  recuperation  in  a  European  journey,  "To  cross  the  sea" 
s^d  he  "has  been  the  dream  and  dread  of  my  life." 

His  first  step  was  to  secure  a  traveling  companion.  One 
afternoon  he  took  me  in  his  buggy  and  went  speeding  across 
the  river  to  Manchester,  where  lived  the  Baptist  pastor,  Rev. 
L.  R.  Thomhill.  He  drove  up  to  a  store  and  the  proprietor 
came  out  to  the  buggy.     Dr.  Hatcher  said  to  him: 

"I  want  you  and  others  in  your  church  to  send  your  pastor 
across  the  sea.  I  am  going  and  I  want  him  to  go  with  me.  He 
needs  such  a  trip  and  deserves  it  and  be  will  return  to  you  in- 
vigorated in  body  and  mind  for  his  work.  You  take  this  mat- 
ter in  hand,  and  work  it  up  among  the  members;  put  a  snug 
sum  in  his  hands  for  the  trip  and  do  it  in  a  bright  and  loving 
way." 

A  light  came  into  the  merchant's  eye.  The  suggestion  of 
Doctor  Hatcher  attracted  him  and  he  accepted  his  commission. 
We  called  at  other  places  and  whatever  may  have  been  the 
det^la  of  these  calls  it  is  a  fact  that  on  July  llth  he 
and  Mr.  Thomhill  bade  adieu  to  Richmond  and  set  forth  on 
their  European  jaunt.  One  dedre  that  drove  him  across  the 
ocean  was  his  yearoing  to  see  and  hear  Spurgeon,  the  world's 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  EUROPEAN  TRIP  281 

great  preacher.  Hoarding  bis  trip  on  the  waters  he  said,  "I 
stood  the  storm,  never  miased  a  meal  and  came  out  with  my 
colors  flying."  One  of  his  lady  members  in  Richmond  had 
jokingly  told  him  that  she  knew  he  would  not  be  happy  on  his 
trip  abroad  because  it  would  give  him  no  opportunity  of  taking 
up  a  collection.  Her  prophecy  failed,  however,  because,  one 
day,  on  the  vessel,  Dr.  Hatcher  took  up  a  public  coUection 
to  aid  the  widow  of  a  sailor  who  had  a  few  hours  before  been 
blown  by  a  hurricane  from  the  ship  into  the  sea. 

Among  the  first  places  which  they  visited  on  the  other  wde 
was  the  home  of  WilLam  Shakespeare,  where  they  saw  the  im- 
mense old  fireplace  which  had,  on  each  side,  a  stone  seat  jutting 
out  into  the  coiner. 

"Aa  ThomhiU  and  I  imagined  that  the  youthful  Wilham 
used  to  perch  himself  on  these  stones  to  eat  his  supper  we 
ventured  to  court  the  inspiration  of  the  Muses  by  momentarily 
atting  ourselves  on  the  same  stones.  Thus  far  the  inspiration 
has  not  taken  effect,  but  I  fancy  I  discover  the  premonitory 
symptoms  in  Thomhill," 

London  and  Spurgeon  loomed  before  him  and  on  the  next 
Sunday  he  and  Mr.  Thomhill  heard  the  great  preacher  at  his 
Tabernacle*  After  the  sermon  they  went  into  a  room  in  the 
rear,  in  which  Spurgeon  was  receiving  visitors. 

"I  have  heard  of  you"  he  said,  as  Dr.  Hatcher  was  presented 
to  him.  "I  want  you  and  your  friends  to  spend  next  Saturday 
with  me  at  my  house." 

"At  seven  o'clock  that  night"  he  says  "I  went  again  to  hear 
the  lovely  and  Christ  honoring  Spurgeon." 

He  heard  him  again  on  Monday  night,  when  Spurgeon 
called  him  to  the  platform  and  said:  "Dr.  Hatcher,  come  up;  I 
give  you  the  freedom  of  the  place  to  do  just  whal  you  will." 
Dr.  Hatcher  spoke  briefly.  On  Saturday  he  and  his  friends, 
McDonald  and  Thomhill,  went  to  Mr.  Spuigeon's  home. 

"At  one  o'clock"  he  writes  "we  sounded  the  bell  at  the  door 
of  the  mightiest  preacher  of  the  19th  century  and  felt  the 
dignity  and  honor  of  the  moment. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


282  A  HALF-DAY  AT  MR.  SPXJRGEON'S 

"  'Ib  Mr.  Spui^eon  at  home?'  we  asked  as  the  butier  opened 
the  door. 

"  'Yee — and  waiting  to  see  you'  rang  out  cheerily  through 
the  large  hall  'and  I  am  pleased  to  note  that  you  ke^  an 
engagement  on  time.  Many  persons  who  come  to  see  me  seem 
to  think  that  I  hve  in  eternity  and  have  no  need  of  time  but 
I  have  to  use  the  clock  and  live  by  it'  and  then  followed  three 
hours  and  half  of  sacred  revel." 

In  their  stroll  through  the  garden  they  came  to  a  Summer 
House  and  there  Mr.  Spuigeou  precipitated  a  lively  discusaon. 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  you  act  as  chturman"  he  said  and  thoi  fol- 
lowed, "quite  a  fierce,  though  thoroughly  good  natured,  wrangle, 
Mr.  Spurgeon  affecting  all  the  ardor  of  a  roaring  partisan.  It 
was  a  feast  of  nHnping  debate  and  full  of  spice  and  jest." 

"At  about  four  o'clock"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  "we  were  sum- 
mtmed  to  the  dining  room.  .  .  The  tide  of  talk  rolled  in 
and  6ut  and  was  playful,  or  serious,  as  it  chanced." 

During  the  meal  Mr.  Spui^eon  called  out: 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  I  want  to  show  you  my  Orphanage  and  my 
Collie." 

"Be  careful,  brother"  replied  Dr.  Hatch^  "Your  Idndness 
is  magnetic  and  you  will  have  to  be  cold  in  your  way  and  rough 
in  your  bearii^  towards  me  or  I  will  surely  come  again." 

"Oh,  he  could  not  be  that  to  you."q>oke  up  Mrs.  Spurgetm. 

In  his  fragmentary  note  book  which  he  used  durii^  his  trip 
abroad  I  find  a  reference  to  this  httle  inddent,  after  which  he 
adds  the  words: 

"I  have  never  yet  trusted,  or  leaned  on,  any  man  so  as  to  make 
him  feel  that  he  was  of  great  consequence  to  me." 

After  hours  of  royal  chat  and  fellowship  they  took  thdr 
leave  at  six  o'clock  Mr.  Spurgeon  walking  a  part  of  the  way 
with  them  along  the  avenue  beneath  the  trees. 

"We  passed  the  porters  lodge"  says  Dr.  Hatcher  "and  found 
ourselves  once  more  in  the  vast  metropolis.  It  was  a  good 
way  we  walked  without  a  word.  The  spell  of  the  most  unique 
personality  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  upon  us  and  we  woat 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  EUROPEAN  TRIP  283 

silent  from  exceea  of  thought  and  feeling.    McDonald  broke 
the  silence. 

"  'What  do  you  think  about  it?'  he  said.  The  ansver  was 
"We  have  seen  a  man  of  God.'  " 

The  following  items  occur  in  his  note-book:  "Sunday 
August  12th:  heard  Spui^geon.  8at  on  the  pulpit  and  made  the 
prayer.  I  felt  myself  unfit  to  pray  for  hiin, — so  exalted  is  he  in 
my  eyes.  His  text  was  Josh,  1 :  10,11 — ^A  rich  and  tender  ser- 
mon,— on  'Fasrang  the  Jordan  as  a  type  of  the  Christian  g(ung 
to  Heaven.' 

"When  I  bade  him  good  bye  he  sfud  'I  hope  you  wont  pass 
over  Jordan  in  three  days',— ^uding  to  part  of  his  text.  His 
deacons  are  so  sweetly  and  helpfully  attentive  to  him.  They 
have  been  very  courteous  and  cordial  to  me.'  " 

At  Mr.  Spurgeon's  request  he  delivered  ap  address  before 
his  students  at  the  College. 

He  had  brought  something  from  America  that  he  did  not 
take  back  with  him  and  that  was  his  tobacco  chewing  habit. 
This  habit  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  his  habit  of  smoking 
cigars  which  he  had  indulged  for  many  years  of  his  ministerial 
life.  Smoking  had  heen  one  of  his  social  pleasures  and  he 
greatly  enjoyed  sitting  in  company  with  other  ministerial 
friends  and,  amid  encircling  clouds  of  smoke,  spending  the 
time  in  easy  chat,  or  discusaon.     In  fact  he  reveled  in  it. 

He  did  not  by  any  means  go  the  length  of  Charles  Lamb, 
who  described  his  affection  for  the  weed  by  declaring: 

"For  thy  sake,  tobacco,  I 
Will  do  anything  but  die." 

Nor  was  he  aa  reckless  in  his  devotion  as  Hood,  who  aaid: 

"Some  sigh  for  this  and  that; 
My  vision  dont  go  so  far 
The  world  may  wa%  at  will 
So  I  have  my  cigar." 

And  yet  "tiie  cigar"  brought  him  many,  many  hours  of 
plei 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


284  THE  TOBACCO  HABIT 

"It  was  my  Boys  Meeting"  he  aaid  "that  caused  me  to 
abaDdoD  the  habit  of  smokii^.  I  discovered  that  some  of 
my  boys  were  developing  the  cigarette  habit  and  I  foimd  that 
I  could  not,  while  smoking  myself,  remonstrate  with  them." 

That  was  in  1878  and  for  ten  years  he  had  not  indulged  in  a 
smoke.  He  broke  his  rule  one  d^, — by  way  of  a  little  banter 
with  Mr.  Spui^eon.  While  he  was  on  a  trip  with  the  famooa 
preacher,  in  an  EngUsh  home,  cigars  were  passed  around,  be- 
ginning with  Mr.  Sptu^^n.  The  latter  declined  saying  that  as 
his  American  friend  was  too  good  to  smoke  he  would  abstain, 
whereupon  Dr.  Hatcher  turned  the  tables  by  quietly  acc^tJng 
a  cigar  as  it  was  passed  to  him  and  lighted  it  and  began  smoking 
it.  "Mr.  Gould"  said  Spurgeon,  in  a  grimly  humorous  tone, 
as  he  observed -Dr.  Hatcher's  act,  "bring  Uiat  box  of  cigars 
back;  this  is  a  better  man  than  I  took  him  to  be  and  I  believe 
I  will  join  him  m  his  smoke."  This  was  hia  first  and  last 
indulgence  in  a  cigar  after  1878.  However  he  had  not  aban- 
doned tobacco  altogether,  but  had  betaken  Mmself  to  chewing 
it.  The  tobacco  served  as  a  stimulus  to  him  when  lai^uid  and 
soothed  him  after  his  severe  nervous  strains. 

But  the  chewing  habit  also  was  destined  to  an  untimely 
end.  While  traveling  through  Great  Britain  one  day  and  in- 
dulging in  hia  favorite  "quid"  he  found  that  there  was  no  cus- 
pidore  near  at  hand  in  the  coach  in  which  he  was  riding.  He 
bad  therefore  to  make  use  of  the  floor  and  soon  a  little  pool 
began  to  gather  at  his  feet.  The  conductor  came  through  the 
car  and,  as  this  railroad  officer  ^iproached  him,  be  found 
himself  thrusting  his  foot  forward  between  the  disfigured  floor 
and  the  conductor's  eye,  so  as  to  prevent  Mm  seeing  it,  and  this 
attempt  at  concealment  made  Mm  jump.  "What  is  this  I  am 
doing"  he  exclaimed  to  himself.  "Has  my  chewing  brought 
me  to  such  a  pass  that  I  am  doing  a  thing  that  I  am  ashamed  of 
and  that  I  am  trying  to  conceal  from  the  conductor.  My  days 
with  tobacco  are  over".  Bight  there  he  signed  the  death 
warrant — never  to  be  revoked — of  his  tobacco  habit. 

His  intercourse  with  Mr.  Spurgeon  was  marked  by  many 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ME.  SPUBGEON  AND  OPEN  COMMUNION  285 

little  pleftsantries.  Tbey  started  one  day  on  a  trip  on  the  cars 
aad  when  they  had  seated  themselves  in  the  coach  and  the 
trtun  had  moved  off,  Mr.  Spurgeon  suddenly  jumped  to  his 
feet  excluming:  "Oh,  my;  I  have  left  my  satctel;  I  have  left 
my  satchel;  what  shall  I  do."  and  his  face  presented  a  picture 
of  woe,  if  not  of  despair.  Dr.  Hatcher  sat  looking  out  the 
window  and  unmoved  by  the  noiee  and  panic  at  Ms  side. 
Wfuting  for  the  storm  to  subside  he  reached  down  under  one 
of  the  seats  in  a  very  imconceraed  kind  of  manner  and  drew 
out  Mr.  Spurgeon's  satchel  and  handed  it  to  him  with  the 
remark  "I  brought  this  along  as  I  thought  you  might  find  it 
serviceable  before  you  got  back  home."  "Such  little  pranks" 
said  Dr.  Hatcher  "seemed  to  relieve  faim  and  to  break  the 
many  strains  that  were  on  him  by  giving  him  a  mental  diver- 
Bon.  He  seemed  to  appreciate  any  one  who  would  treat  him 
as  a  real  human  beii^  and  not  as  a  big  curiosity  to  be  stared  at, 
or  to  be  afraid  of." 

"Mr,  Spui^eon"  sfud  Dr.  Hatcher  to  him  one  day  "why  is  it 
that  you  invite  people  to  your  Communion  table  who  have  not 
been  baptized?"  By  baptism,  Dr.  Hatcher,  of  course,  meant 
immersion — ^just  as  all  Baptists  mean  in  thdr  use  of  the  word. 

"I  take  no  unbaptized  people  into  my  church"  Mr.  Spui^eon 
replied.  "I  ui^e  them  to  be  baptized  and  there  my  authority 
ends.  The  Communion  is  a  mere  matter  of  church  hospitality 
and  seems  to  give  me  a  better  opportunity  of  ui^ng  the  duty 
of  immendon  and  when  I  get  at  people  in  this  way  I  generally 
baptize  them.  If  they  come  to  our  table  once,  or  twice,  and 
still  refuse  to  join  my  church,  then  they  are  refused  admit- 
tance to  the  table.  You  see  I  have  throngs  of  Christian 
people  visting  my  church  from  all  parts  of  the  world  and  I 
do  not  shut  the  door  against  them;  but"  sud  he  "if  I  lived  in 
America  and  in  the  South  where  the  Biq>ti3ts  practice  strict 
communion,  I  should  practice  it  also." 

"I  fwl  to  see"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  "just  how  you  can  reduce 
it  to  a  Eomple  question  of  geography." 

Mr.  Spurgeon  and  a  large  portion  of  the  English  Baptista 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


286  CLOSE  COMMXJNION 

were  what  is  known  as  Open  Communion  Baptaats, — ^that 
is  they  would  invite  to  the  Lord's  Table  the  unbaptized,  or 
uninunersed.  It  is  also  true  of  many  of  these  churches,  though 
flot  true  of  Mr.  Spurgeon's  church,  that  they  have  the  open 
membership;  that  is  they  admit  the  unbaptlsed  to  th^r  church 
membership,  as  well  as  to  the  Communion.  Dr.  Hatcher,  with 
nearly  all  Southern  Baptists,  believed  in  what  was  termed 
"strict",  or  "close  communion", — ^that  is,  he  held  that  un- 
inunersed christians  ought  not  to  be  invited  to  the  Lord's 
Ti^le;  they  might  come  if  they  dedred;  he  did  not  employ 
force  to  keep  them  away;  the  responfdbility  was  with  them,  but 
his  own  opinion  waa  that  they  had  neglected  one  of  the  New 
Testament  steps  that  came  between  beUef  in  Christ  and  par- 
taking of  the  Lord's  Supper  and  that  was  baptism.  He  be- 
lieved that  in  the  apostolic  churches  only  the  baptised  be- 
lievers partook  of  the  Communion  and  he  saw  no  reason, 
for  letting  down  the  bars.  He  believed  that  only  immer^on 
was  scriptural  baptism  and  therefore  he  was  compelled  to 
believe  that  he  could  not  invite  the  uninunersed  to  partake 
tA  the  Supper.  It  was  because  of  this  belief  that  he  and  his  Bap- 
tist brethr^i  were  styled,  "Close  Communion  Baptists."  He 
wondered  whether  there  were  any  of  these  "Strict  Baptists" 
in  England  and  ao  he  said  one  day  "Mr.  Spurgeon;  I  would 
like  to  see  some  'Strict  Baptists'  before  I  leave  Ei^land. 
Have  you  any  of  that  type  here  in  London?"  "Why,  yes"  he 
said  "A  multitude  of  them."  "Do  they  have  any  churches  of 
their  own?"  "Yes,  I  suppose  they  have  at  least  100  churchea 
in  this  city.  I  am  constrained  to  say,  however,  that  many  of 
them  are  not  very  progressive,  but  they  are  composed  of  really 
good  people." 

"He  took  evident  pleasure"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  "in  giving  me 
such  instructions  as  would  enable  me  to  find  some  of  the  leading 
Close  Communion  Baptists  of  London.  Some  of  these  brethren 
I  had  the  honor  of  meeting  and  found  them  to  be  among  the 
noblest  of  God's  people.    They  spoke  in  the  highest  terms  of 

r.  Spurgeon  and  said  that  in  his  heart  he  was  was  really 

thtnem." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  STEICT  BAPTISTS  287 

The  fact  that  there  in  England,  where  the  "oprai  communioD" 
Baptists  were  so  strong,  his  Baptist  brethren  "of  the  stricter 
Bort"  were  keepii^  their  colors  flying  gave  Dr.  Hatcher  a  warm 
brotherly  feeling  for  the  brethren  and  he  yearned  to  hunt  them 
out  and  give  them  the  hand  of  fellowship, — and  this  he  ^d 
and  royal  times  he  had  with  them.  He  visited  their  College 
of  which  Dr.  Edward  Parker  was  preadent.  "Dr.  Parker" 
he  said  "I  want  you  to  come  over  to  America, — to  the  South 
where  the  "Strict  Baptists"  constitute  a  great  multitude. 
Come  next  May  to  the  meeting  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Con- 
vention which  will  be  held  at  Memphis,  Tennessee,  and  let 
U8  show  you  what  a  welcome  we  can  give  a  brother  from  across 
the  aea."  The  invitation  was  accepted.  On  Sunday,  August 
19th,  he  heard  his  beloved  Spurgeon  morning  and  night.  Re- 
garding the  night  service  he  wrote  in  his  note  book,  "Heard 
Spui^eon  and  helped  him  in  the  service."  On  August  20th, 
at  11:55  A.  M.,  he  and  Mr.  Thomhill  left  England  for  the 
continent. 

An  amusing  experience  befell  him  one  day.  He  decided 
to  climb  the  Mer  de  Glace,  but  wh^i  be  beheld  the  mode  of 
his  transportation,  he  stood  appalled. 

"I  was  gravely  informed"  said  he  "that  1  could  not  see  the 
mountains  unless  I  rode  the  mule.  I  love  the  mountuns,  but  I 
loathe  mules.  They  are  animals  of  very  uncertain  qualities  and, 
while  said  to  be  highly  useful,  they  have  served  me  well  only  when 
I  have  left  them  alone.  By  a  desperate  atru^le  I  conquered  my 
prejudices  and  agreed  to  join  the  mountfun  caravan.  It  was 
decided  to  make  an  early  start  and  at  the  appointed  moment 
our  mules  and  guide  appeared  in  front  of  the  hotel.  Thomhill, 
with  his  slouch  hat  and  long  overcoat,  mounted  his  appointed 
steed  and  rode  oS  with  as  much  composure  as  if  he  was  going 
to  a  Saturday  meeting  in  the  country.  My  animal  was  com- 
mended to  me  as  a  beast  of  the  safest  qualities  and  sported  the 
name  of  'Coco'.  After  much  trembling  I  got  astride  and  by  the 
help  of  our  Swiss  guide  set  Coco  to  going  and  away  went  the 
caravan.  We  descended  the  mountain  by  another  road  and 
our  mules  were  brought  around  to  take  us  down.  I  can  ride 
a  mule  up  a  mountain,  but  I  could  trust  do  mule  to  take  me 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


288  LOVE  OF  PEOPLE 

down  a  mountain  and  so  I  walked  down.    I  felt  that  night,  as 
if  I  would  wmgh  about' four  tons." 

Far  up  in  the  Appennines,  hidden  away  amid  its  mountain 
ranges,  was  a  long  cherished  friend, — Dr.  George  B.  Taylor. 
He  was  the  friend  of  his  early  ministry  and  at  that  time  he  was 
the  Baptist  missionary  at  Rome.  He  determined  to  find  him. 
From  one  railroad  to  another  he  went  and  then  in  a  conveyance, 
driving  through  a  wild  monutun  country  anud  chattering 
foreigners  in  the  dark,  he  pushed  his  way  until  finally,  after  a 
checkered  ride,  they  reached  the  secluded  house  and  a  knock 
on  the  door  brought,  first  the  daughters  and,  after  them,  the 
the  father,  Dr.  Taylor,  who,  as  he  caught  sight  under  the  light 
of  the  lamp  of  Dr.  Hatcher,  exclaimed  in  joyful  surprise  "Oh, 
brother  William,  I  have  waited  for  you  so  long  and  longed  for 
you  so  much.  I  feel  that  you  bring  with  you  my  kindred  and 
my  country." 

Nothing  but  his  "passion  for  friendship"  would  have  ever 
driven  Tiim  to  make  such  a  journey.  Of  course  they  had  blessed 
days  together,  but  they  were  few  and  rapid  in  their  flight  and  he 
and  Mr.  Thomhill  were  soon  out  and  away  on  their  jaunt 
through  Europe,  They  went  from  city  to  city  and  a  varied 
panorama  of  sights  flitted  before  their  gaze.  But  the  most 
interestjng  sight  in  Europe  to  him  was  its  peoples.  "What  I 
sighed  for  in  Europe"  he  stud  "was  not  so  much  the  art  galleries 
and  museiuns  and  mouldering  ruins  as  its  different  peoples, — 
their  manner  of  living,  thar  home  life  and  their  church  life." 
In  London  it  was  Spui^eon,  that  attracted  his  gaze  and  study. 
It  was  his  Baptist  brethren  of  "the  stricter  sort"  that  drew 
him  on  a  fraternal  hunt  for  them.  It  was  Dr.  Taylor, — hidden 
far  away  with  mountains  intervening,  that  he  fought  his  way 
to  see.  It  was  Dr.  James  P.  Boyce  who,  far  from  his  American 
home,  was  lying  ill  somewhere  in  London  and  whom  he  searched 
for  and  fonnd  that  he  might  seek  to  drop  at  least  a  itaut  gleam 
of  sunlight  into  his  sick  room,  in  that  vast  strange  city.  Such 
sights  and  visits  across  the  sea  had  for  him  an  unrivalled  charm, 
and  the  people  that  gained  his  interest  were  not  necessarily  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  289 

men  in  hign  places,  but  they  were  rather  the  people  to  vhom 
he  felt  knit. in  some  wsy  by  christian  ties.  He  wanted  to  aee 
the  trophies  of  divine  grace,  as  manifested  among  his  English, 
his  Scotch,  his  Italian  brethi«n,  and  the  struggles  and  victoriee 
of  their  churches.  He  wrote  from  L«kdon  to  the  wife  of  his 
beloved  deaoon,  E..  M.  Foster, 

"I  have  heai  nine  days  in  Loudon  and  have  seen  many  new 
and  stirring  sights.  I  have  been  in  the  palace  of  the  Queen,  in 
the  House  of  Parliament,  in  the  bloody  old  London  Tower, 
in  the  Cathedrals  and  parks,  but  far  more  than  in  these  have 
I  found  joy  in  hearing  Spurgeon  preach  and  standing  where 
so  many  of  our  Bt^tist  fathers  were  burned  for  their  faith  in 
the  Gospel. 

"Somehow  there  is  not  much,  either  in  persons,  or  places, 
to  interest  me  unless  they  have  something  in  them  to  make  me 
think  of  Christ.  One  pleasure  I  have  had — ^which  I  much  wish 
you  could  have  shared — that  of  meeting  Mrs.  Spui^eon.  She 
is  one  of  the  queenliest  and  scuntliest  of  women." 

But  we  need  not  follow  him  amid  the  details  of  his  European 
sight-seeing. 

He  came  back  to  Londtm  from  the  Continent  and  had  some 
further  delightful  experiences  with  Mr.  Spurgeon,  dinii^  with 
him  on  his  last  Sunday  in  Lond<Hi  at  the  home  of  one  of  Mr. 
Spui^eon's  members. 

ffis  jovial  spirits  suffered  a  collapse  on  the  ship  soon 
after  embarking  for  America.  Sea  dcknees  struck  him 
prostrate  and  he  declared  that  he  saw  no  possibility  of 
living  for  ten  days, — the  time  required  for  the  voyage  to 
New  York.  After  the  ship  started  on  its  homeward  voyage 
and  he  fell  sick  he  would  count  over  the  days, — one,  two,  three, 
four  up  to  ten  and  each  time  reaffirm  bia  conviction  that  he 
could  not  live  for  so  loi^;  but  he  decided  that  he  might  keep 
aUve  for  five  days  and  he  settled  upon  that.  At  the  end  of  the 
five  day^  he  found  himself  alive  and  so  he  determined  to  try 
to  live  through  the  second  five  days.  This  device  saved  the 
day  for  him  and  brought  him  safely  over. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


290  HIS  HAPPY  RETURN 

He  eaid  that  as  he  turned  his  face  towards  Richmond  he 
realized,  as  he  had  not  done  before,  the  wetAening  effect  upon 
him  that  had  been  caused  by  his  sudd^y  giving  up  the  to- 
bacco habit.  He  demred,  of  course,  that  he  should  now  be  at 
his  best,  intellectuaUy,  in  the  social  circle  and  in  his  t^ipearanoes 
before  the  public.  His  use  of  Tobacco  had  proven  a  mental 
stimulus  to  him  and  he  feared  that  when  he  wished  now  to  be 
bright  and  active  he  would  be  dull  and  slu^sh.  He  told  me 
that  the  matter  gave  him  some  little  concern.  But  not  for  a 
moment  did  he  think  of  openii^  the  door  to  his  habit;  he  stood 
hie  ground  ^though  he  knew  that  a  taste  of  the  alluring  weed 
would  quicken  his  faculties;  he  wilted  the  habit  a  freeh  and 
eternal  farewell  and  waited  with  eager  anticipation  for  the 
sight  of  the  spires  of  Richmond. 

Already  from  far  away  Bedford  had  come  his  oldest  sister, 
Rebecca,  to  welcome  him  home.  I  can  see  her  now,  aged  and 
wrinkled,  EdttJi^  erect  in  the  front  parlor  at  our  house  "waiting 
for  William"  to  arrive.    His  church  gave  lum  a  royal  reception. 

"It  was  indeed  a  great  and  touching  demonstration  of  af- 
fection and  respect,"  wrote  Dr.  Nelson. 

With  happy  memories  of  his  recent  wanderings  and  with 
heart  aglow  at  the  thought  of  his  church  and  his  work,  he 
took  up  once  agfun  his  pastoral  tasks.  He  was  exhuberantly 
haj^y  in  his  labors,  and  often  his  soul  would  be  marked  by  a  riot 
of  joyful  enthusiasm.  I  remember  how  he  looked  one  day  at  a 
social  gathering  of  the  Richmond  College  alumni.  I  was  living 
out  of  the  eity,  but  was  presuit  on  that  occaolon  and  as  I 
^proached  him  in  the  throng  he  reminded  me  of  a  boy  at  a 
glorious  frolic.  His  eye  flashed  delight,  his  face  was  radiant 
witii  hai^aness  and  his  movemeaits  bespoke  bouyancy  and 
vigor.  As  I  went  up  to  speak  to  bim  the  thought  came  to  me: 
"Well,  surely  no  one  is  happier  here  today  than  you."  He  i^ 
peared  to  have  caught  in  full  measure  the  ^irit  of  the  occasion. 
It  was  a  gathering  of  the  students  and  friends  of  his  beloved 
Alma  Mater  who  had  gathered  with  bright  memories  of  their 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HONORING  THE  OLD  291 

College  &nd  with  high  ambitions  for  her  future.  There  was 
about  bim  that  day  a  spring  and  dash,  and  hilarious  enjoyment 
that  was  coatagiouB.  "In  him"said  Dr.  Hemdon  "life  seemed 
so  rich,  so  conqtlete,  bo  abundant".  It  was  in  some  such  spirit 
that  he  sprang  to  his  work  when  he  returned  to  Richmond. 
A  few  weeks  after  his  return,  the  General  Association  met  in 
Bristol  and  he  was  elected  President  of  the  body.  One  day, 
while  pre«iding  over  the  Association,  he  ^ied  in  the  audience 
one  of  the  fathers  in  Israel,  N.  C.  Baldwin, — an  aged  brother 
whom  he  had  met  several  years  before,  far  out  in  the  mountains 
of  Southwest  ^ni^inia.  When  he  saw  him  in  the  audience  in 
Bristol — knowing,  as  he  did,  how  heroically  he  had  stood  at 
his  post  in  his  mouutun  section, — he  called  the  old  man  up 
to  the  f^tform,  and,  with  a  few  fitting  words,  introduced  him 
to  the  Association  and  su^ested  that  the  delegates  give  him 
the  hand  of  loving  reo^nition.  With  that,  he  struck  up  his 
favorite  hymn,  "We'll  work  till  jesus  comes"  and,  as  they  sang, 
tiiB  delfgates  thronged  up  to  the  platform  and  gave  the  old 
soldier  their  warm  hand  grasp.  "The  old  veteran  was  much 
affected  by  this  demonstration  of  affection"  said  the  Herald. 
"It  was  a  touching  and  melting  scene."  Dr.  Hatcher  loved  to 
eon^  out  old  ministers  in  that  fashion  and  put  honor  upon 
them. 

3o(m  after  his  return  to  Richmond  he  found  himself  in 
the  Kttdet  of  another  Baptist  gathering — the  Baptist  Congress. 
It  was  an  oi^anization  composed  of  representative  Baptist 
ministers  and  laymen  from  all  sections  of  the  North  and  South. 
He  rejoined  in  this  commingling  of  the  brethren  of  the  North 
and  South.  One  day,  near  the  end  of  the  meetings,  he  was 
preparing  to  take  the  csx  with  his  wife  for  home,  when  he 
suddenly  exclaimed,  "Yonder  is  a  del^ate  whom  I  have  not 
had  to  a  meal — ^tiie  only  one  I  think  that  I  have  not  had — I  must 
have  him"  uid  across  the  street  he  hurried  and  secured  the 
brother  witii  his  hocpitable  laaso. 

He  delivered  at  this  Congress  an  address  on  Christian  Science 
in  which  he  described  a  promifl^t  Baptist  layman  of  Richmond 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


292  THE  BAPTIST  CONGRESS 

who  had  recently  resorted  to  a  Christaan  Science  cure  for  his 
terrible  stomach  puns.  Dr.  Hatcher  acted  out  the  writhings 
of  body  and  the  groaning  cries  of  the  brother  as  he  sought  to 
remind  himself  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  pain,  or  a 
stomach.  "His  speech"  said  the  Herald  "was  overflowing 
with  humorous  allusions  which  repeatedly  brought  down  the 
house."  At  the  last  service,  he  delivered  the  final  message 
to  the  delegates.  The  Congress  was  held  at  his  church.  In 
a  vein  of  pleasantry  he  said: 

"Now  brethren  we  have  entert^ned  you,  but  please  under- 
stand that  it  was  on  condition  that  you  rem^  over  Sunday 
and  fill  our  pulpits  for  us.  The  fact  is  your  presence  here  this 
week  has  played  havoc  with  our  sermon  making  and  you  must 
come  to  the  rescue."  His  valedictory  words  were,  accordii^ 
to  the  Herald,  "a  characteristic  speech,  full  of  contagious 
humor  and,  at  the  conclusion,  the  congregation  sang  'The 
Sweet  By  and  By'  and  the  partutg  hand  was  given." 

These  last  words  suggest  another  picture.  He  loved  to  sing 
"The  Sweet  By  and  By"  at  such  farewell  occasions.  He  would 
surest  the  ^ving  of  the  hand  of  fellowship  to  one  another 
and  then  he  would  strike  up  the  hymn  "The  Sweet  By  and  By" 
beginning  with  the  words  "There's  a  land  that  is  fairer  than 
day;"  whereupon  there  would  be  a  general  commingling  around 
the  pulpit  and  in  the  aisles  as  the  delegates  with  songs  on  their 
lips  and  often  with  tears  in  their  eyes  would  grasp  the  hand  of 
one  another  and  think  of  that  fair  land  where  congregations 
would  ne'er  break  up  and  parting  scenes  be  no  more.  A  hand- 
shake with  him,  on  such  occasions,  had  in  it  rich  meaning. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXV 


CHURCB    DEDICATIONS.     TAKINQ    COLLECTIONS.      CONTENTION   AT 
MEUPHIB.       INFLUENCE  IN  SODIfiERN  BAPTIST  CONVENTION. 

THE  CHSerERFIELD  UEETINQ. 

Hie  year  1889  found  him  full  of  happineaa: 

"When  I  put  my  excellent  health"  he  writes  "my  happy 
htane,  my  lovely  church  and  my  many  friends  in  a  pile,  I  feel 
like  having  a  thankasiving  day  to  celebrate  the  Lord's  good- 


Concerning  a  young  preacher  for  whom  he  lectured  at  his 
country  church  he  writes: 

"I  am  afrud  he  is  not  dead  in  earnest.  He  talks  of  small 
congregations  as  a  thing  which  he  can  never  help  nor  stand. 
He  lacks  snap  and  push  and  I  tried  to  nerve  him  up  to  bold 
endeavor." 

After  writing  of  a  good  Baptist  brother  in  Powhatan  county 
loeing  his  house  by  fire  he  says  "I  must  help  him  so  far  as  I 
can."  I  had  taken  the  pastorate  of  three  churches  in  Chester^ 
field  oounty  and  he  wrote  me  r^arding  my  visiting  the  poor. 
"That  is  the  way  to  work — ^it  is  not  showy  but  it  will  bring 
good  fruit.  I  expect  you  to  have  great  revivals  next  Summer." 
He  was  busy  witli  many  burd^ts  but  not  too  busy  to  piok  some 
humor  along  the  way.  He  had  a  viator  at  Has  time  which  put 
him  on  his  mettle  and  furnished  Iiim  material  for  the  following 
jotting  in  the  Baltimore  Baptist: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


294     OUTWITTING  THE  BOOK  AGENT 

"Triumphant  for  once.  Yes,  we  actually  beat  a  book  nun. 
He  came  to  our  house  at  first.  We  met  mm  with  a  smite  and 
said  to  him  that  we  were  incorrigible  and  wanted  no  book. 
He  wanted  us  to  understaad  that  he  would  call  again  and  seemed 
by  a  crafty  twinkle  in  his  eye  to  say  that  he  would  destroy  us 
yet.  We  told  him  of  our  colossal  cares  and  icily  hinted  that 
he  would  waste  no  time  in  trying  to  drive  us  into  a  bargain. 
He  evidently  did  not  believe  us. 

"His  next  call  was  at  our  study  in  the  church.  He  came  in  the 
fresh  of  the  morning,  just  as  the  flocks  of  golden  gwpel  taught 
were  fluttering  through  our  brain  and  seemed  ready  to  be  couped 
for  Sunday  use.  His  dress  was  worthy  of  a  lord  and  he  had 
heard  our  sermon  on  the  Sunday  before  and  was  mightily 
impressed.  This  softened  us  a  trifle  and  made  us  think  that 
he  was  a  man  of  discriminating  taste,  but  his  wanton  flushing 
of  our  golden-winged  thoughts  was  not  to  be  forgiven  for  next 
Sunday's  sermon  lay  before  us  a  mangled,  not  to  say  an  unborn 
wreck  and  we  had  a  grievance  which  no  flattery  as  to  our  last 
Sunday's  sermon  could  subdue.  We  were  very  frank  to  tell 
him  that  we  were  not  'at  home'  to  him  that  day.  He  seemed 
in  doubt  as  to  our  earnestness  and  began  to  swing  around  to  an 
argument  in  favor  of  his  botdt.    We  assumed  a  lurid  air  and  he 


"Calm  as  an  Alpine  sunset  he  suled  himself  out  saying  that  he 
would  see  us  again.  We  hoped  that  be  would  have  a  hicid 
moment  and  change  his  mind  but  he  did  not.  Book  agents 
do  not  change  their  minds.  They  consider  it  their  business  to 
change  other  people's  minds  and  he  came  ag^.  By  a  happy 
chance  we  saw  him  as  he  passed  the  gate  and  came  in.  He 
did  not  see  us.  The  outer  door  to  our  study  was  locked.  He 
knocked, — reasonably  at  first,  but  by  degrees  he  rattled  the 
bolt,  banged  and  jarred  the  door  and  looked  as  if  he  would  rip 
up  the  foundations  of  things.  We  went  back  to  a  shady  comer 
of  our  room  and  enjoyed  the  fury  of  the  storm.  Our  erer^ 
urbane  sexton  started  down  to  open  the  door  but  we  besought 
him  to  pity  the  sorrows  of  an  impoverished  middlea^ed  man 
and  go  back  to  his  sweepii^.  Long  we  sat  mute  and  unea^ 
as  to  the  final  result  but  finally  the  roar  and  clatter  ce&Sed. 
We  peered  out  of  the  window  and  saw  that  the  coast  Waa  clear. 

"Hail,  happy  dayl  The  monster  was  gone  and  we  were 
monarch  of  what  Uttle  we  surveyed.  But  we  t^d  not  feel 
entirely  safe  and  so  we  managed  to  be  at  home  in  fact  as  soon 
as  we  could  reach  it." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DEDICATIONS  295 

Dr.  R.  B.  Hudnall  aays  of  him  "He  was  known  as  the  dedi- 
cator of  churches  in  VJi^inia."  From  all  manner  of  churches 
would  come  requests  that  he  would  dedicate  tbMr  new  building. 
He  would  g^ierally  find  upon  his  arrival  that  a  debt  rested 
upon  the  new  structure.  He  would  also  find  the  pastor  and  mem- 
bers looking  expectantly  to  him  to  "lift  the  collection."  It 
often  happened,  in  the  case  of  churches  nearing  completion, 
with  a  considerable  debt  still  resting  upon  them,  that  some  of 
them  would  suj^est  "If  we  can  get  Dr.  Hatcher  he  will  r^ae 
all  we  need".  He  appeared  in  one  of  his  most  striking  roles 
when  he  was  taking  a  collection  on  dedication  day,  with  a 
oongrc^tJon  packti^  every  nook  and  comer  of  the  new  build- 
ing, peering  throi^h  the  windows  and  blocking  the  doors,  and 
everybody  in  happy  mood. 

Let  us  picture  a  dedication  scene.  The  day  has  arrived  and 
the  entire  community  seems  to  be  crowding  itself  into  the 
new  building.  Dr.  Hatcher  preaches  the  dedication  sermon, 
at  the  close  of  which  comes  that  event — so  prodigiously  impor- 
tant for  the  strugglii^  church, — the  collection.  Already  before 
the  service.  Dr.  Hatcher  has  met  some  of  the  beat  givers  in 
conference  and  they  have  promised  to  start  the  subscription 
at  the  proper  moment.  When  the  time  for  the  collection  comes, 
ushers  are  placed  in  the  aisle,  a  financial  statement  is  made  and 
the  amount  named  that  is  to  be  raised.    Immediately  one  of 

the  brethren  get«  up  and  aaya  "Dr.  Hatcher,  I  will  pve  $ 

towards  paying  off  this  debt"  and,  on  his  heels,  comes  another 
of  those  whom  Dr.  Hatcher  has  already  enlisted,  and  thus 
the  subscriptions  are  called  out,  either  by  the  persons  them- 
selves, or  by  the  ushers,  and  each  subscription  evokes  some 
playful  comment  from  Dr.  Hatcher. 

In  speaking  of  one  of  his  collections  at  a  dedication  he  writes: 

"That  collection  was  after  the  order  of  Melchiaedek,  in 
the  respect  that  it  has  no  precedecessors  in  my  experience. 
It  was  of  the  nature  of  a  confl^ration, — hard  to  keep  under 
control.    It  was  a  fight  to  restrain  the  givers  from  making 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


296  TAKING  UP  COLLECTIONS 

such  a  conflict  of  noises  as  would  make  it  imposmble  to  get 
their  names." 

He  dedicated  a  church  in  a  Viigiiiia  town,  and  called  the 
deactma  together  before  the  s^rice  saying  to  thran  "Brethr^i, 
you  must  start  the  collection  today  by  your  BubeciiptJCHiB 
and  if  you  set  the  tone  too  low  we  will  not  be  able  to  sing  it 
throu^."  Whoi  he  walked  upon  the  platfonn  at  a  corner^ 
sbme  laying  he  got  the  great  audience  in  a  good  humor  at  the 
outset  by  loddng  over  the  crowd  and  saying,  "where  did  all 
you  people  ctnne  from?"  His  cordial,  informal  manner  put 
the  audience  at  ease  and  in  a  cheerful  frame.  He  inssted  on 
the  name  of  each  ^ver  b^ng  called  out  because  his  commoita 
were  suggested  by  the  names.  His  humorous  allusions  were 
bom  of  the  moment  and  thoe  was  a  qrantaneous  and  a  bright- 
ness, coupled  witii  a  revereace  and  SNiousnees,  that  made  the 
aerrice  me  of  genuine  worship. 

On  one  occamon  he  stepped  to  the  platfonn  at  Uie  Gweral 
Aasociatim  to  take  up  a  collectioo.  One  or  two  men  called 
out  their  Bubscriptaons.  He  said  to  Dr.  H.  C.  Smith,  the  clerk 
of  the  AfBodation  who  was  near  him  on  the  platform  "write 
these  Bubscriptaons  down,  as  theiy  are  called  out."  Dr.  Smith 
who  had  failed  to  catch  the  name  of  the  first  subscriber 
called  out  to  Dr.  Hatcher  who  was  asking  for  other  subscrip- 
tions. 

"Doctor,  who  was  the  first  man?"  Dr.  Hatcher  turned 
around  as  if  in  surprise  looked  at  Dr.  Smith  and  said  "Adam." 

He  took  up  hundreds  of  collectiona,  but  he  did  not  naturally 
like  to  do  such  work.  He  shrank  from  it.  In  his  eariy 
ministry  certfun  cases  of  need  drove  him.to  ask  for  an  offering 
and  he  would  engineer  such  ingatherings  ao  skillfully  and  suc- 
cessfully that  his  fame  as  a  collection  taker  spread  and  he  was 
preesed  into  service  on  evay  hand.  But  be  genially  did  it 
with  inward  protest  and  reluctance. 

Aa  an  indication  of  hia  ability  to  remember  names  it  may 
be  mentioned  that  on  a  Sunday,  in  the  latter  part  of  March, 
he  gave  the  right  band  of  fellowship  to  90  new  members.   They 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


REMEMBERING  NAMES  297 

were  stretched  in  a  line  at  the  front  across  the  entire  church 
and  as  be  moved  along  the  line  he  spoke  a  few  words  to  each 
person,  calling  that  person's  name  and  his  wife  writes 
"He  was  as  quick  to  remember  and  call  names  as  ^er-ooly 
hayii^  to  ask  names  of  three  persons.  Is  it  not  remarkable." 
These  90  persons  had  come  into  his  membership  through  the 
meetings  which  were  still  progressing  at  his  church.  He  had 
in  his  oongr^ation  a  family,  by  the  name  of  Cousins,  and  in  the 
family  was  a  boy  who  had  been  living  away  from  Richmond 
for  a  good  while.  He  met  Dr.  Hatcher  aa  the  street  <Hie  day, 
but  did  not  expect  the  Doctor  to  remember  him.  He  apoke 
in  very  cordial  fashion  with  the  youth  who  sfud  to  him,  "Dr. 
Hatcher,  you  dont  remember  me,  do  you?"  "Oh"  said  the 
Doctor  "I  never  forget  my  cousins."  He  remembered  names 
because  he  naturally  took  keen  interest  in  people. 

Never  had  tus  pastoral  jaya  been  higher  than  no^.  "Simdi^ 
was  a  great  daiy  at  Grace  Street"  he  writes.  "Think  of  it, — 
779  in  tJhe  Sunday  School.  House  full,  top  and  bottom,  at 
our  11  o'clock  service."  In  ttus  same  letter  he  pves  a  picture 
of  one  of  those  unpleasant  little  "tilts"  that  sometimes  though 
very  rarely,  mar  the  intercourse  of  ministers  when  wnn^ht 
up  by  their  struning  labors.  This  little  stir  quickly  dissolved, 
showing  that  there  was  nothing  permanent,  or  lutter  in  it. 

"We  had  an  unpleasant  experience  in  tiie  preachers'  meeting 

yestorday.    preached  at  Church  Sunday 

morning  and  e^ressed  a  wish  to  ixaae  down  and  help  me  re- 
cdve  my  new  members.    I  sent  my  buggy  up  for  him  to  oome 

after  he  got  through  with  the  service.    This  offended and 

he  mode  complain^  against  us  at  the  preachers'  meeting.    This 

led  Dr. to  say  some  things  that  were  very  offensive 

to and  myseft.    We  had  a  scene  and  I  regretted  it 

beyond  measure.  Not  that  I  did  any  thing  that  I  felt  con- 
demned for.    X .got  very  penitent  and  confeaaed  that 

he  acted  unwisely.  It  is  not  good  to  write  about  and  you  can 
forget  it.  I  think  the  fdlowa  are  so  wrought  up  by  the  meeting 
that  they  are  nervous.  I  am  sure  that  it  will  soon  pass 
away. 

"But  let  not  this  give  you  a  moment  of  worry.    Do  your  own 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


298     VISIT  OF  THE  ENGLISH  BAPTISTS 

work.    Trust  in  the  Lord  and  your  revival  will  come.    Do  not 
hurt  your  voice  by  preaching  too  often." 

It  has  been  mentioned  how  on  the  previous  Summer,  while 
in  England,  he  had  virated  the  College  of  the  Strict  Baptists 
and  had  invited  the  president,  Dr.  Edward  Parker,  to  attend 
the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  in  the  following  May.  That 
invitation  was  accepted.  The  Convention  met  in  Memphis 
and  its  most  memorable  feature  was  the  welcome  service  in 
honor  of  its  Enghsh  guest.  Dr.  Parker  and  his  party.  Dr. 
Hatcher,  who  presented  tiiem  to  the  Convention,  thus  writes 
regarding  the  visit: 

"In  some  respects  the  welcome  of  the  deputation  of  the 
English  brethren  was  the  most  thrilliog  incident  of  the  meeting. 
After  a  brief  introduction  by  this  writer,  Dr.  Parker  and  Mr. 
Shaw  both  spoke.  Their  addresses  were  brief,  frank  and  gen- 
uinely eloquent.  Dr.  Parker  swept  the  crowd  like  a  tonpest 
and  so  great  was  the  excitement  when  he  closed  that  it  was 
difficult  to  subdue  the  audience  sufficiently  to  get  a  hearing 
for  Dr.  Broadus,  who  responded  for  the  Convention  and  who 
made  one  of  the  most  fetidtous  and  brilliant  speeches  of  his 
inimitable  life." 

Dr.  Parker  on  Sunday  morning  was  given  the  place  of  honor 
in  b^ng  asked  to  preach  at  the  morning  service  at  the  Church 
at  which  the  Convention  was  being  held  and  once  agun  he 
captured  his  hearcia  by  his  disoourse.  Some  one  spoke  of  Dr. 
Hatcher  as  the  "Warwick  of  tiie  Convention",  meaning  thit 
he  was  the  maker  of  its  preddents.  But  he  ddmed  no  such 
title  aad  bad  no  demre  to  play  such  a  part.  It  ia  true  that 
nearly  all  the  premdents  of  the  Convmtion  who  were  elected 
during  his  ocmneotion  with  the  Convention  from  this  day 
forward  were  nominated  by  him,  but  he  was  always  forced 
to  the  front  by  the  friends  of  the  nominee.  He  went  to  dwiom- 
iuatiaaal  gaUierings  with  no  personal  axes  to  grind,  though 
his  own  grindstone  was  kept  unusually  busy.  Those  states 
which  had  their  candidates  for  office  in  the  ConventJon  fre- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  SOUTHERN  BAPTIST  CONVENTION  299 

quently  seemed  to  think  that  if  they  could  get  Dr.  Hatcher 
to  chsQpion  thai  man  H  voidd  be  a  great  point  gained  aad 
mtoy  Were  the  f^ipeals  that  weie  thus  brought  to  hhn.  Dele- 
gations ftotn  cities  that  were  seeking  the  next  Convention 
for  their  own  dty  would  aolidt  his  champion^iip  of  their 
cause.  I  do  not  Wish  to  overetate  it  but  it  seems  generally 
agreed  that  when  the  Convention  was  called  to  face  critical 
issues,  when  important  papers  were  to  be  draiwn  up  and  crucial 
decinons  made  by  the  Convention  that  to  no  one  man  was 
there  a  more  general  turning  for  leadership  tbMi  to  Dr.  Hatcher. 
The  feeling  seemed  to  be  that  he  was  so  devoid  of  personal 
schones  of  his  own  in  the  Convention,  and  had  such  tact  and 
wisdom  and  such  large  interest  in  the  work  of  the  Denomination 
that  his  judgment  oould  be  safely  trusted. 

"If  aeked  to  name  tbe  man  who  was  the  most  effective  single 
factor  in  the  Southern  Baptist  C<mvention,"8ayB  Dr.  J.  M. 
Frost.  "I  could  name  no  one  who  would  outrank  William  E. 
Hatcher  of  Virginia.  His  guiding  genius  was  potent  in  many 
ways.  Others  nrigbt  find  time  for  leisure  during  its  sesfflon 
or  absent  themselves  from  its  meeth^,  but  he  made  the  buai- 
nees  of  the  Convention  his  first  business  when  in  attenduice  on 
its  meetings.  It  was  big  custom  to  choose  a  seat  in  easy  reach 
of  the  presiding  officer  and  there  he  could  be  found  at  every 
meeting  and  watching  everything  with  intensest  interest.  It 
was  a  matter  of  conscience  with  him  and  in  this  he  set  a  high 
example  and  rendered  valuable  service.  In  our  great  gatherii^ 
he  will  be  sadly  missed  and  many  will  wish  for  his  presence 
and  for  his  helpful  words." 

Dr.  J.  F.  Love  tells  me  that  at  one  of  the  seeaons  of  the  Con- 
vention be  greatly  desired  a  resolution  passed  by  the  Con- 
venti<ni  that  would  help  him  meet  a  critical  denominational 
issue  in  Arkansas  where  he  was  then  Secretary  of  State  Mis- 
dons.  It  was  an  issue  that  affected  also  the  Southern  Baptist 
ConventJcu  and  it  was  important  that  the  Convention  should 
at  that  meeting  put  itself  in  a  wise  attitude  towards  a  certain 
constituency  in  Ariuinsas.  He  went  to  Judge  Haralson,  the  pres- 
ident of  the  Coivention,  told  him  the  mtuation,  and  said  "And 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


300  THE  SOUTHERN  BAPTIST  CONVENTION 

now  Judge,  if  I  may  suggest  the  quw  ^om  I  would  like  for 
you  to  ftppoint  as  chairman  of  the  committee,  the  maa  who 
would  have  to  write  the  paper  to  be  adopted  by  the  Convention, 
I  want  to  aak  that  you  iq>point  Dr.  Hatcher.  We  need  a  man  of 
singular  wisdom'  and  level  headedness  to  draw  up  such  a 
document  and  I  tJiink  Dr.  Hatcher  is  the  man." 

Dr.  Hatcher  was  ^>pointed  to  prepare  the  paper  and  with 
many  other  people  and  tasks  pulling  at  him  at  that  Convention 
he  wrote  the  paper  which  was  adopted  by  the  Convention  and 
which,  Dr.  Love  says,  helped  to  save  the  day  in  Arkansas. 

This  inddent  occured  at  a  later  Conventi<m  but  is  mentioned 
here  as  showing  his  influence  in  the  Convention.  It  was  at  this 
Memphis  Convention  that  a  new  President  of  the  Convention 
was  to  be  elected  and  the  friends  of  Judge  Haralson  of  Alabama 
had  asked  Dr.  Hatchn  to  place  the  Judge's  name  in  nomination. 
Dr.  Hatcher  had  two  warm  personal  friends, — one  of  these 
Judge  Haralson  and  the  otiier  a  distinguished  layman  in  another 

Southern  state,  Col and  the  friends  of  this  latter 

gentieman  had  also  asked  Dr.  Etatcher  to  chan^ion  the  cause 
of  thor  man  for  ibe  pread^icy  of  the  Convention  in  Memphis. 
He  was  in  a  quandary  but  was  Booa  relieved  by  a  letter  from 
the  latter  friend  releaong  him  htmi  any  obligation  to  present 
his  name  and  giving  way  to  the  other  gentl^nan.  He  presented 
Judge  Haralson's  name  to  the  Ctmventioa  and  it  was  generally 
agreed  that  it  was  his  speech  that  won  him  the  nominatitm. 
A  noble  spirit  was  Judge  Haralson.  For  many  years  the  Con- 
vention inmsted  on  his  wearing  the  presidential  honor  and 
with  gentleness,  courtesy  and  firmness  he  wielded  the  gavel  and 
through  it  all  he  clung  to  Dr.  Hatcher  with  affectionate  de- 
pendence, not  in  any  cringing,  or  helpless  way,  for  he  was  a 
master  in  his  direction  of  the  exercises,  but  I  would  often  hear 
him  say,  as  he  would  walk  arm  in.  arm  with  him,  "Hatcher, 
you  must  keep  near  me,  to  help  me."  They  loved  each  other 
and   were    close   counselors    about    denominational   matters. 

Durii^E  this  Convention  he  presented  a  resolution  which 
precipitated  a  discusEdon.    The  debate  became  animated  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  SOUTHERN  BAPTIST  CONVENTION  301 

several  entered  the  fray.    Rev.  Dr. arose  to  oppose 

the  resolution  and  plunged  into  an  earnest  speech,  talldog 
however  in  somewhat  rambling  fashion.  At  a  certwt  point 
in  his  remarks  he  swung  from  his  track,  following  another  line 
of  thought.  When  he  sought  to  return  from  his  side  remarks 
to  the  main  line  of  his  speech  he  could  not  find  the  track.  He 
stopped  abruptly,  looked  around  in  a  bewildered  way,  and  in 
hi^  tones  called  out:  - 

"Where  was  I  brfore  I  was  interrupted?" 

"I  think  you  were  back  in  the  dark  ages"  ventured  Dr. 
Hatcher. 

The  explosion  of  laughter  that  followed  well  nigh  shook  the 
rafters.  The  remark  could  hardly  be  entered  in  the  list  of 
"kind  words"  to  an  opponent  and  yet  it  was  not  made  with 
any  malice  afore-thoii^ht  and,  as  for  the  audience  that  had 
be^t  overstrained  by  the  excited  debate, — it  jolted  them  into 
a  restful  good  humor.  At  another  time  in  the  Convention 
the  tide  of  the  discusdon  was  runnii^  high.  Some  of  the  b^' 
guns  were  in  the  Geld,  the  firing  commenced  and  a  battie 
seemed  imminent.  Dr.  Hatcher  stepped  into  the  breach, — 
but  let  Rev.  Harry  Bagby  tell  the  story: 

"My  first  view  of  Dr.  Hatcher  was  to  me  very  imprenve. 
It  was  at  a  meeting  of  the  Southern  Bi^itist  Convention,  in 
Memphis,  in  1889.  The  Convention  bad  under  conaderation 
the  report  on  Missions  in  Papal  fields.  Dr.  A.  C.  Dixon,  at 
that  time  pastor  in  the  city  of  Baltimore,  delivered  an  address 
in  which  he  undertook  to  lay  bare  the  heresies,  the  corruption 
and  the  dangers  of  Romanism  in  America.  His  phiUipic  would 
have  done  credit  to  Demosthenes  in  his  prime.  He  cried 
aloud  and  spared  not.  He  was  followed  by  Dr.  Henry  Mc- 
Donald who  was  bom  and  bred  a  Roman  Catholic.  He  ad- 
mitted the  truthfulness  of  what  Dr.  Dixon  had  said,  but  de- 
clared it  to  be  his  conviction  that  it  was  unwise  to  attack  Roman- 
ism in  that  way  in  America.  He  then  described  a  visit  to  his 
old  home  in  Ireland.  He  told  of  meeting  his  Roman  Catholic 
brother  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  forty  years.  He  described ' 
how  they  went  together  into  the  garden,  and  knelt  at  their 
BfUBted  mother's  grave  and  prayed  together,  protestant  on 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


302  TWO  NEW  LKCTURES 

one  side  and  the  Roman  Catholic  on  the  other.  He  melted 
the  audience  to  tears,  and  Dr.  Dixon  was  knocked  out  with 
one  blow.  Everybody  saw  it  would  be  very  imfortunate  to 
engage  in  a  heated  discusaon  on  that  subject  at  such  a  time 
and  in  such  a  place.  As  Dr.  McDomdd  closed,  Dr.  Hatcher 
got  the  floor.  I  have  never  heard  a  brighter  speech  than  tiiat 
which  followed  in  the  next  five  minutes.  Among  other  things 
he  said,  'My  brethren  we  are  living  in  the  most  marvelous 
age  in  all  the  world's  history.  We  have  heard  on  this  platform 
in  one  hour  the  fiery  Martin  Luther  and  the  gaitle  Phillip 
Melancthon.  We  have  heard  this  afternoon  from  the  two 
Johns,  One  said  '0  generation  of  vipers,  who  hat^  warned 
you  to  fiee  from  the  wrath  to  come' ;  Uie  other  said  'My  little 
children  a  new  commandment  I  write  unto  you,  that  you  love 
one  another.'  And  now  it  seems  to  me  brethren  that  it  is  a 
good  time  to  stop.'  The  effect  was  dastac,  the  inddent  Mt 
every  one  smiling  and  h^py." 

In  a  tew  d&ys  he  waa  back  in  Virginia  busy  witii  hie  taaks 
and  travels.  He  had  pr^ared,  since  his  return  from  his  E^un^ 
peau  journeys,  two  new  lectures,  one  on  "Spurgeon  and  His 
Work"  and  the  other  cm  "Croesing  the  Sea",  and  on  thgae 
two  topics  he  lectured  in  nearly  every  section  of  Virgiiiis.  He 
delivered  in  one  of  the  lower  countJefl  of  the  state  his  lecture 
on  Spurgeon.  After  the  lecture  he  was  walking  around  the 
church  building  when  an  old  fellow  with  a  grinning  face  and  a 
draggy  manner  of  speech  walked  up  to  him  and,  in  a  confi- 
dential tone,  drawled  out : 

"Say,  Dr.  Hatcher;  that  man  Spurg — I  think  you  said  that 
was  his  name — ^I  say  that  man  Spuig  must  have  been  a  right 
nice  man."  The  lecturer's  reply  is  not  on  record  but  it  is  con- 
ndered  extremely  probable  that  he  cherished  very  much  the 
same  opinion  as  his  smiling  brother.  The  following  letter  of 
May  2Hh  will  ^ve  an  idea  of  his  busy  manner  of  life. 

"My  Dear  E: 

"I  w^t  to  Fredericksbuig,  Monday.  I  had  a  church  to 
dedicate  Tuesday  and  on  Tuesday  night  I  had  a  great  crowd 
to  hear  my  "Spurgeon  and  his  work"  at  Dr.  Dunaway's  church. 
I  have  not  been  well  since  I  got  home.    I  go  this  afternoon  to    ' 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


AT  THE  DOVEE  ASSOCUTION      303 

meet  conunittee  on  Dr.  Winfree's  monument.  How  I  wish 
that  I  could  aee  you  there.  I  am  anticipating  my  time  with 
you  next  we^.  .  .  Monday  I  go  to  Suffolk  and  will  not 
g«t  back  until  Wednesday." 

The  letter  refais  to  "Df.  Winfree's  monument."  Dr.  Wiafree 
was  an  honored  pastor  in  Chesterfield  County  tad  a  dJstm- 
guiehed  preacher  and  Dr.  Hatcher  had  promised  to  help  the 
Chesterfidd  people  in  their  movemoit  for  a  monument  to 
thwr  late  [lastor.  Dr.  Wright  of  Suffolk,  in  writii^  about  the 
lecture  on  ^Nu^eon  ddivered  at  his  church,  says: 

"The  house  was  Uterally  packed  and  the  crowds  stood  out- 
side at  the  windows  and  doors  unable  to  get  in.  At  the  close 
of  the  lecture,  and  before  the  audience  knew  what  he  was  about, 
the  Doctor  b^;an  a  skillful  onslaught  upon  the  assembled 
crowd  in  the  interest  of  the  building  fund  of  our  new  church 
and  in  a  short  time  secured  nearly  $1200.  He  has  our  pnrfound 
gratitude  for  his  successful  management  of  this  entire  matter." 

At  the  Dover  Association  he  arose  to  speak  and  Dr.  L 

called  out:  "If  Dr.  Hatcher  is  going  to  discuss  the  Kind 
Words  publication  then  I  make  the  point  of  order  that  he  is 
out  ot  order." 

"Brother  Moderator"  replied  Dr.  Hatcher  "I  am  puziled 

to  know  how  Dr.  L has  found  out  what  my  speech  b 

going  to  be.  I  am  willing  to  submit  to  the  judgment  of  the 
moderator  whether  a  point  of  order,  raised  against  a  speech 
which  has  not  been  made,  is  a  vaUd  point  or  not."  The  mod- 
erator ruled  that  it  was  not  and  Dr.  Hatcher  made  it  plain 
that  he  had  not  arisen  for  the  purpose  indicated  in  brother 
L 's  point  of  order. 

It  was  during  this  Summer  that  a  new  fountain  of  pteaaure 
was  opened  to  him  from  which  he  drank  to  his  soul's  refreshment 
to  the  end  of  his  life.  This  fountfun  was  "Chesterfield," — a 
county  lying  on  the  opposite  of  the  James  River  from  Bichmond. 
I  was  pastor  of  thxtte  country  churches  in  that  county, 
and  his  visits  to  me  during  my  residence  in  the  county 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


304       MEETINGS  IN  CHESTERFIELD 

linked  him  with  the  churches  and  people  in  that  section  in 
a  way  tiiat  gave  them  a  place  in  hia  heart  that  waa  nevei 
lost  and  Uiat  made  Chesterfield  a  sacred  tramping  ground  for 
Imn.  He  came  to  Bi>eak  of  it  in  his  letters  to  me  as  "the  sacred 
ami"  and  oftimes  in  tollii^  of  his  drives  across  the  river  he 
would  speak  of  having  "struck  for  the  sacred  hills."  He  helped 
me  in  meetings  at  two  of  my  churches,  being  prevented  from 
being  with  me  at  the  Tomahawk  church  of  which  his  grand- 
father, Jereaniah  Hatcher  had  once  been  pastor. 

At  my  Skinquartw  church  his  opemng  sermon  waa  on 
"Christ  knocking  at  the  door  of  the  church"  and  at  the  con- 
cluaon  of  the  sermon  the  congregation  was  overcome  with  emo- 
tion, and  the  deacon  who  attempted  to  lead  in  prayer  broke 
down  and  sobbed  and  yet  be  himself  remained  calm;  he  did  not 
allow  himself  to  be  sw^t  away  by  the  storm  of  feeling  which 
his  own  sermon  had  created,  but  held  himself  m  hand  that 
he  might  direct  the  forces  in  the  meeting.  It  was  as  if  he  had 
said  "Expreas  your  feelings,  if  you  are  so  moved  to  do,  but 
understand  this  is  not  the  revival;  we  are  just  be^nning;  and 
there  is  much  yet  to  be  done."  Ilie  meeting  proved  to  be  a 
glorious  one,  but  it  was  at  Bethlehem  church  that  he  had  bis 
crowning  experience.  He  led  the  mngjng,  taught  the  con- 
gr^ation  new  songs;  they  responded  to  his  every  touch  and 
his  soul  reveled  in  it  all.  The  meeting  had  in  it  some  wonderful 
incidents  which  Mt  their  echoes  sin^ng  in  hia  soul  during  all 
his  remuning  years. 

He  had  his  buggy  with  hiim  and  be  and  I  would  drive  each 
night  to  a  new  home.  One  night  we  drew  up  at  old  Mr,  Ly- 
bargers, — and  a  crustier  and  odder  old  character  it  would  be 
hard  to  find,  and  yet  that  night,  as  my  father  b^pin  to  dig 
into  him,  he  foimd  a  gold  mine  of  interesting  qualities.  I 
had  warned  him  before-hand  that  he  would  find  the  old  man 
a  bundle  of  inconastences.    He  thus  wrote  about  his  insit: 

"I  can  testify  that  the  old  gentleman  hved  up  to  hia  recom- 
mendations that  night.  His  English  waa  badly  shattered,  but 
he  was  quick  of  mind,  brimming  with  humor,  sarcastic,  defiant 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BETHLEHEM  306 

and  skeptical.  As  booq  oa  supper  was  over,  he  opened  fire. 
He  slashed  the  preachers,  plucked  the  churches  and  sneered 
revivals  out  of  countenance.  I  thmk  I  never  heard  any  man 
make  a  more  clever,  or  damaging,  assault  upon  religion  as 
embodied  in  individuals  and  churches  of  that  day.  Much 
that  he  said  was  true  and  so  intermixed  with  what  was  not 
true  that  it  was  hard  to  handle  him.  Indeed  I  gave  him  full 
T^n  aad  ^[pressed  approval  of  many  things  that  he  said.  He 
ran  riot  with  invective  and  seemed  for  awhile  intoxicated  witii 
the  eease  of  victory." 

Mrs.  Lybarger  and  I  sat  by  keenly  interested  as  spectators. 
They  had  it  hard  and  long.  The  old  man  got  our  horse  next 
morning,  fighting  all  the  time  ag^nst  the  saggeatioa  of  his 
going  to  church.  We  drove  out  to  Bethlehem,  started  the 
meetings  for  the  day  and  one  of  its  many  happy  features  was 
the  presence  and  the  conversion  of  the  old  man,  and  the  letters 
from  my  father  in  later  years  were  destined  to  tell  me  of  many 
drives  he  had  had  up  to  "Brother  Lybarger's".  My  father 
loved  to  keep  in  touch  with  his  old  friend  and  to  put  whatever 
l^t  he  could  upon  bis  christian  pathway.  The  meetings 
were  rich  in  fruit.  At  one  of  the  homes  whae  we  ware  spending 
the  night  it  seemed  to  him,  after  we  had  retired,  that  I  was 
restiess  and  worried  about  something  and  he  called  out  to  me 
from  his  bed,  in  solicitous  tones,  saying;  "My  boy,  do  you  feel 
that  I  am  taking  too  much  of  the  meetii^  out  of  your  hands?" 
It  to(^  me  not  a  second  of  time  to  banish  any  ^ch  dehmon 
from  his  mind. 

He  loved  to  tell  of  the  conversion  in  that  Bethlehem 
meeting  of  old  Brother  Orrell,  over  90  years  of  age  and  of  a 
tittle  boy  of  tender  age.  When  they  were  received  for  baptism 
tb^  were  together  and  Dr.  Hatcher  made  touching  reference 
to  the  aged  man  and  the  littie  lad  coming  into  the  kingdom 
mde  by  ode.  On  the  day  of  the  baptism,  with  the  crowds 
lining  the  banks  of  the  stream  they  carried  the  old  man  into 
the  water  ride  by  ride  with  the  boy.  He  was  baptised  first 
and  as  they  started  to  carry  him  out  of  the  water  he  stopped 
them,  sayii^;  "Oh  I  must  wait  for  my  littie  friend"  and  tiiere 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


306  BETHLEHEM 

be  renuuned  until  the  boy  was  baptized  and  togetiier  they  vent 
out  of  the  water.  Not  very  loi^  after  that  Dr.  Hatcher  went 
to  Bethlehem  to  preach  the  funeral  of  this  old  man.  At  a 
cert^  point  in  the  service  he  told  the  story  of  the  old  man  and 

bis  little  friend and  then  looking  out  over  the  throng 

of  people  he  said  "What  has  become  of  that  boy?"  "Here  he  is" 
came  the  answer  and  Dr.  Hatcher  learned  to  his  joy  that  the 
boy  was  develo]Hiig  into  an  active,  useful  member  of  the  church. 

On  November,  3rd,  he  wrote  me  at  the  Louisville  Seminuy : 

"Deah  Eldridob: 

"Here  it  is  again.  I  am  in  Richmond  and  at  my  desk  on 
Sunday  night  writing  to  you.  If  we  live  I  suppose  this  will 
be  the  first  of  an  enormous  mass  of  letters  that  will  go  to  you 
fixHQ  my  pen  for  the  next  three  yeat^.  But  I  cannot  quite 
promise  to  write  every  Sunday  night  but  I  will  give  you  the 
best  I  can. 

"Dr.  was  to  begin  a  aeries  of  'Family  Homilies' 

ton^ht.  His  first  theme  was  'Winning  a  wife'.  Lisne  had 
to  rem&rk  that  he  had  won  so  many  wives  that  she  supposed 
he  felt  epeoially  prepared  to  tell  how  it  ought  to  be  done." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


TRIF8  TO  CHESTBRTIELD.      P£AC£FtJL  SOLUTION  OF  CHURCH  TBOU' 

BL£B.      EDITORIAL  CRITICISHB.       NEW  BUILDING.      INTBKSST 

IN  PLAIN  PEOPLE.      PUTTING  HONOR  UPON  OTHERS. 

KINDNESS  TO  YOUNO  PREACHERS. 

One  result  of  the  Bethlehem  meetings  was  the  beginning  of 
one  of  the  dearest  friendships  of  his  life.  A  young  preficher, 
Bev.  Robert  H  Winfree,  hud  his  pastoral  Seld  in  the  same  part 
of  the  county  as  mine  and  a  little  nearer  to  Hichmond.  He 
fdt  mi^ularly  drawn  to  this  young  preacher  from  the  start 
and  called  him  sometimes  "Bob"  and  sometimes  "Robert". 
Dr.  Hatcher  was  ardent  in  his  attachments,  not  only  to  his 
p&taooBl  friends,  but  also  to  communities.  There  was 
Bomethii^  in  tus  soul  that  cried  out  for  fellowship  with 
those  he  had  come  to  love  and  sometimes  even  for  places 
like  Bedford  and  Chesterfield  that  had  become  endeared  to 
him  by  sacred  experiences.  At  first  he  shrank  from  going 
back  over  the  Chesterfield  roads  which  we  had  traveled  in  our 
meetings.  He  wrote  me  "I  confess  it  puts  a  lonely  feeling  upon 
me  to  cross  the  brii^  and  head  towards  old  Chesterfield. 
You  have  spoiled  that  country  for  me  as  I  will  hate  to  run 
the  old  roads  without  having  you  aloi^."  But  the  yearning 
for  the  old  roads  and  the  people  soon  returned  and  more  and 
more  l^e  home  <^  his  friend,  Robert  Winfree,  became  a  beloved 
place  to  him.  In  fact  Chesterfield  became  his  recreation  annex 
for  the  next  few  years  and  what  his  croquet  games  formerly 
did  for  him  at  the  CoU^e  was  now  done  for  him  by  his  Chester- 
field trips.  He  could  jump  in  his  buggy,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
307 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


308  CHESTERFIELD 

be  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  and  Bcuddying  through  Man- 
'Cbefiter  and  out  along  the  Midlothian  turnpike.  Not  only  did 
bJB  buggy  generally  carry  some  httle  trinkets,  or  sweete,  as  he 
drove  up  to  one  of  the  Chesterfield  homes,  but  he  was  fertile 
in  expedients  for  ministering  to  the  people.  After  a  heavy 
strain  of  toil  in  the  city  it  meant  a  rejuTenation  to  him  to  jump 
in  bis  buggy,  take  a  boy,  or  a  preacher,  with  bun,  and  go 
"careering"  out  over  the  hills  into  the  "sacred  country." 
In  a  letter  to  me,  at  this  time,  he  writes  regardii^  Dr.  Wbit^ 
field,  one  of  the  Kichmond  pastors;  "He  is  dear  to  me — in  fact 
I  bold  him  first  among  the  pastors  in  Bichmond.  He  is  so 
true  and  wise."  He  yearned  for  just  such  compaaioDsbips. 
They  gave  him  a' refreshing  relaxation  from  his  pastoral  and 
denominational  strEuns.  Many  were  the  times  that  Dr.  Theo- 
dore Whitfield  and  be  climbed  tjie  Chesterfield  bills  and  spent 
the  night  at  "Robert's",  or  at  some  other  Chesterfield  home. 
The  next  letter  draws  a  picture  of  one  of  bis  viats,  which  letter 
he  knew  I  would  keenly  enjoy. 

"My  Dear  Eldridqb: 

"I  begin  early  this  time  and  hope  to  give  you  a  very  juicy 
topic  by  the  time  it  is  finished.  Robert  Winfree  was  ordwned 
today  Tuesday  at  Bethel,  Dr.  Whitfield  and  I  went  up  and 
spent  Monday  lught  at  Baker's.  Bagby  was  there  and  we  spent 
a  delightful  evening  together.  We  had  a  fine  day  for  the  or- 
dination. Bob  bore  himself  quit«  handsomely  in  the  examination. 
I  conducted  the  examination  and  did  not  put  it  very  severely 
for  him.  The  congr^ation  was  excellent  and  the  sermon  seemed 
to  make  an  excellent  impresdon.  "Brudder  Joe"  was  there 
and  be  looked  uncommonly  well.  Dr.  Hancock  was  there  and 
Frank  with  him.  My  heart  is  burdened  for  Frank;  he  ia  a  fine 
boy  and  capable  of  great  things.  .  .  Write  him  if  you  have 
a  spare  moment  "  * 

"On  Dec.  15th,  he  Wrote: 

"My  DBLut  E: . 

"We  had  a  big  memorial  service  in  honor  of  Jeff  Davis  on 
last  Wednesday.  It  was  held  at  Second  Baptist  Church  and 
the  crowd  was  overflowing.   Dra. and Bpoke 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


NEW  YEAR'S  RECEPTION  309 

and  did  it  well.  I  had  to  preside  and  made  a  brief  speech  which 
was  said  to  be  good.  It  was  a  modest  blushing  kind  of  per- 
formance which  fairly  veiled  its  face  before  the  glare  of 

G 's  rhetoric, and  the  measured  roll  of  L — 's 

voice.    Dr. was  asked  to  be  the  orator  of  the  occasioD 

but  declined.  He  was  much  criticised  and  many  aud  that  he 
could  not  praise  Davis  lest  he  should.  .  .  Aa  1  did  not 
know  why  he  did  not  speak,  I  could  say  nothing  on  the  sub- 
ject." 

The  time  seemed  ripe  for  him  to  strike  for  a  new  church 
building.  For  fourteen  years  he  had  labored  with  increasing 
congregations  in  the  old  structure,  the  church  relieving  itself 
on  two  or  three  occasions  by  sending  out  colonies  to  establish 
new  churches. 

On  Sunday  morning  during  the  Christmas  season  Dr.  Hatcher 
startled  his  congre^tion  by  making  the  surpiioi^  announce- 
ment: 

"On  New  Year's  Day  I  expect  to  celebrate  at  my  home  the 
25th  anniversary  of  my  marriage  and  I  give  a  hearty  invitation 
to  every  one  of  you  to  be  present  and  I  ask  each  of  you  to 
brii^  me  a  mlver  present".  His  wife  swd  she  caught  her 
breath  at  this  last  remark  sayii^  to  herself  "What  can  he 
mean?  I  never  heard  him  make  such  a  statement  before;  but 
he  kept  us  in  suspense  for  only  a  second  and  he  added  'to  be 
used  in  building  the  church.   I  want  112,000.'  " 

He  trod  the  heights  on  that  New  Year's  day  at  his  Reception 
as  be  and  his  wife  greeted  the  throngs  of  members  and  friends 
that  crowded  into  his  home  during  the  afternoon  and  evening. 
Amoi^  those  who  came  were  the  Baptiste  pastors,  who  pre- 
sented to  him  an  "exquiately  beautiful  and  costiy  silver 
present."  But  the  out-standing  feature  of  the  Reception  was 
the  report  of  the  deacons  near  the  close  of  the  day  announcing 
that  112,000,  the  amount  asked  for, — had  been  raised  during 
the  day.  In  such  financial  campaigns  he  always  gave  largely. 
His  wife  says  she  thinks  that  he  gave  $1,000  towards  the 
new  building.  Whenever  any  one  would  chide  him  for  what 
often  seemed  reckless  giving  on  his  part  he  would  reply  "I 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


310       EXPERIENCE  IN  WASHINGTON 

must  give  because  the  Lord  ^ves  to  me"  and  he  mi^t  po*- 
^bly  have  added  with  equal  trutMuhiess  that  the  Lord  gave  so 
abundaDtly  to  him  because  he  gave  so  freely  to  his  cause. 
It  might  be  mentioned  that  his  frequent  practice  of  taking  up 
collections  for  others  put  a  drain,  not  only  on  his  vocal  powers, 
but  often  on  his  ovn  puree. 

He  had  an  intereetii^  experience  at  this  time  in  Washington 
where,  in  conjunction  with  Dr.  Geot^  C.  Lorimer,  he  preached 
at  the  dedication  ef  the  First  Baptist  Church  of  that  city.  Dr. 
Lorimer  preached  an  eloquent  sermon  in  the  morning,  but 
a  large  part  of  his  audience  vieai  out  after  the  aemum,  not 
waiting  for  the  collection.  Dr.  Hatcher  preached  at  m^t  and 
after  his  sermon  made  some  complimentary  allusion  to  his 
audience,  whereupon  Dr.  Lorimer  broke  in  with  the  remariL: 

"No  man  ever  had  a  finer  set  of  hearers  than  I  had  at  this 
morning's  service."  To  which  Dr.  Hatcher  replied: 

"I  can  safely  say  that  my  audience  will  never  forsake  me  as 
ingloriously  as  yours  did  this  morning.  If  it  should,  I  think 
I  would  go  out  and  hang  myself." 

"The  audience  broke  into  happy  laughter"  said  Dr.  Hatcher 
"and  went  quite  beyond  the  morning  audience  in  its  contri- 
bution to  the  church  fund." 

It  was  a  curious  experience  which  he  had.  He  was  very 
sck  during  the  day  and  yet  when  he  arose  to  preach  at  night 
his  ailment  fled.  "Sunday  I  suffered  intensdy  from  nausea" 
he  wrote  "and  yet  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  enjoyed 
preaching  more  in  my  life."  After  the  service  Ma  sickness 
returned,  pursued  him  to  the  hotel  and  rolled  him  in  delirium 
during  the  night.  Upon  his  return  to  Richmond  he  addressed 
himself  to  his  campaign  for  his  new  building,  but  troubles  lay 

ahead  of  him.    "Your  father  is  afraid  tiiat  X and  his 

party  will  defeat  it"  writes  my  mother  referring  to  the  church 
building  enterprise. 

"There  is  evidently  a  counter  eurrait  against  us"  he  writes 
me,  "and  it  sometimes  makes  me  nervous  but  my  trust  is  in 
the  Lord.  If  we  are  not  to  have  a  new  church  I  can  submit  but 
I  hope  it  will  come." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  CLIMAX  IN  GRACE  STREET  311 

Tbese  were  Btressful  days  for  him.  "I  find  myself  badly  used 
up  by  my  varied  cares"  be  writes  "and  am  trying  to  lighten 
my  burdens.  It  is  bard  to  endure  such  a  etrun."  How  for- 
tunate it  was  that  in  times  of  strain  he  could  exchange  his 
burdens  for  a  bright  viat  to  one  of  his  Chesterfield  homes. 
He  draws  a  vivid  picture  of  such  an  outing. 

"On  Friday  afternoon  I  jumped  into  my  bu^y,  picked  up 
Woodie  and  hied  us  forth  for  ^e  satnwl  nilis  of  Chesterfield. 
I  took  the  lUver  road  and  landed  about  sunset  at  Civey  Win.- 
ston's.  Carey  was  ploughing  in  the  field  in  front  of  the  house 
and  saw  me  coming  and  he  yelled  out  a  joyful  welcome.  They 
saw  me  from  the  house  and  by  the  time  I  got  out  of  the  buggy 
and  got  into  the  house  they  had  a  roaring  fire  ready  for  me. 
Mrs.  Car^  Winston  had  toothache;  she  was  suffering  in- 
tensely, but  she  got  better.  The  night  was  hke  an  elysian 
dream.  How  glad  they  seemed  to  be.  They  thanked  me  for 
Gomii^,  as  if  I  had  done  them  a  great  service.  We  had  hours 
of  fine  talk.  They  gave  me  a  lovely  room  to  sleep  in.  It  was 
really  delicious  to  hear  them  talk  so  hopefully  and  affection- 
.ately  about  their  church." 

At  last  the  climax  came.  For  many  years  there  had  been  a 
factional  element  in  the  church  that  caused  trouble.  A  few 
years  before  this  time,  however,  those  who  had  opposed  him 
had  laid  down  that  arms  and  in  many  ways  bad  cooperated 
with  him  since  that  time;  but  the  sea  had  not  been  perfectly 
calm  and  there  had  been  strains  and  breaks  in  the  membership. 
But  at  a  meeting  of  the  church  at  this  time  the  end  came,  these 
particular  members  and  others  with  them  withdrawing  from 
the  church.  On  the  next  morning  my  father  writes  me:  "The 
agoi^  is  over.  Last  night  was  a  dismal  runy  time,  but  the 
ends  of  the  eartii  came  to  church.  I  had  my  fears  for  I  knew 
that  there  had  been  some  bad  talking."  He  then  describes  the 
manner  in  which  letters  were  asked  for  for  about  30  of  the  mem- 
bers— among  th^n  those  who  had  (pven  him  trouble  at  intervals 
during  his  pastorate.  The  request  for  the  letters  was  granted. 
"It  vna  a  peaceful  solution  of  an  old  trouble"  he  said.  "It 
may  leave  some  sores  and  we  may  lose  a  few  more  but  Qrace 
Street  will  go  marching  on.    The  Lord  is  with  us." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


312         THE  FACTIONAL  TROUBLES 

"Great  events  in  the  history  of  Grace  Street  have  transpired 
since  I  last  wrote  you"  writes  my  mother.  "We  have  passed 
through  a  season  of  trials,  anxiety  and  partial  exdtement.  .  . 
I  feel  however,  that,  as  severe  as  the  ordeal  is,  it  is  best  for  us 
and  the  church  at  last.  Your  father  is  full  of  faith  and  cour- 
age and  thinks  there  is  a  brighter  day  coming  for  old  Grace 
Street." 

The  story  of  the  factional  troubles  in  his  church  are  told 
in  these  pages  with  no  deare  whatever  to  rec^en  any  old 
wounds,  or  to  make  ai^  unkind  flings  at  any  one. 

Not  one  i^ace  of  bitterness  remuned  in  my  father's  heart 
towards  those  who  opposed  him.  He  and  th^  in  the  after  years, 
while  connected  with  different  churches,  mingled  in  christian 
fraternity  and  co-operated  freely  in  religious  woik.  It  seems 
to  have  been  a  case  where  certiun  persons  for  some  reason 
did  not  work  in  harmony  -with  the  pastor  and  tlie  rest  of  the 
church  and  so  they  went  mto  other  churches  where  they  f  dt 
tiiey  could  be  lumpier.  There  were  others  who  thou^t  it 
best  to  go  with  them.  If  those  who  went  out  felt  a  rdief, 
this  feeling  was  also  shared  by  pastor  and  church  and  tJie 
general  sentiment  was  that  the  action  taken  was  a  fortunate 
cubninataon  of  a  long  growing  trouble.  It  gave  the  church  a 
jar  which  some  thou^t  meant  that  the  day  of  doom  had  come 
and  yet  as  the  church  closed  up  the  ranks  it  found  itself  gathered 
into  a  compact  unit  such  as  it  had  never  been  before. 

Someone  asked  him  for  his  advice  in  preparing  a  set  of  rules 
for  the  govemm^it  of  his  church  membership.   He  thus  replied : 

"Our  advice  is  to  conjure  up  a  whole  lot  (A  rules, — say  forty 
or  forty  five— to  write  th^n  neatly  on  half  sheets  of  foolscap 
(writing  only  on  one  ade)  making  them  touch  all  subjeota 
such  as  dancing,  Sunday  excursion,  drinking,  cooking  on  the 
Lord's  Day,  attending  church  meetings,  strifes  among  brethren, 
stealing,  cheating,  going  in  debt,  and  very  many  other  things, 
too  numerous  to  mention  at  this  time  and  then  to  put  the 
document  in  a  large  white  envelope  and  neatly  to  drop  it 
into  a  roaring  wood  fire  allowing  it  to  remain,  say,  for  a  couple 
of  hours  and  then  to  take  it  out  and  present  what  is  left  to  the 
church." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  "LAND  BOOM"  ARTICLE        313 

"In  the  splendid  borne  of  tbis  good  and  great  man  it  was  my 
pleasure  to  rest  for  several  days"  writea  Rev.  J.  A.  Leslie. 
"The  wonder  is  how  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Hatcher  find  time  to  do  such 
great  things  for  the  Lord  in  so  many  different  ways  and  places." 

He  set  his  heart  upon  having  a  splend  d  church  edifice,  a 
building  adequate  for  lai^e  denominational  gatherings,  as 
well  as  for  his  own  church  services. 

As  a  rule  he  had  only  kind  words  for  his  brother  ministers, 
but  there  were  times  when  he  would  let  fly  his  arrows  of  criti- 
cism. He  wrote  an  article  for  a  Baptist  weekly  that  produced 
a  commotion.  In  this  communciation  he  attacked  the  practice 
of  certain  ministers  becoming  mixed  up  with  "land  booms"  and 
sent  the  article  to  the  editor.  The  article  seemed  so  severe 
that  the  editor  became  panic  stricken  about  it  and  wrote  the 
following  letter: 

"Dbab  Dr.  Hatcseh: 

"Prepare  to  fightl    My,  my;  if  you  havn't  a  first  olaaa  row 

on  hand  now,  then  there  is  no  fight  in  the  "C "  men 

or  in  the  C of  F . 

"Why  those  expresEdons  of  No.  5  in  your  'Hi^  Places'   are 

perfectly  awful.    W in  reading  the  proof  called  Mra. 

Hatcher^s  [who  was  visiting  in  the  editor's  city  at  that  time] 
attention  to  them.  When  I  came  to  the  office,  I  ran  up  to 
see  the  good  wife  and  to  ask  her  to  strike  out  the  heart  of  that 
paragraph. 

"But  she  had  fiown  down  the  street.  So  I  returned  azid  sfud 
to  the  printer,  'I'll  seek  a  bomb  proof,  sO  put  in  the  imtiaU 
'W.  E.  H.'  But,  my;  wont  the  shot  rattle  on  our  roof  soon. 
I'll  fly  the  white  flag  and  cry  'On  to  Bichmond'.  You  began 
this  row  and  you  must  fight  it  out,  if  it  takes  all  Summer.  If 
your  foes  leave  a  few  remnants  of  your  body,  I'll  try  to  do 
you  a  service  by  gathering  them  tc^ether  and  having  a  res- 
pectable funeral. 

"But  seriously  you  were  awful.  You  must  have  f eU  in  a 
savage  humor  when  you  wrote  those  paragraphs." 

The  editor  was  correct.  The  shot  did  beffn  to  rattle.  A 
very  prominrait  minister  in  another  state  felt  that  the  article 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


314  THE  COUNCIL 

was  aimed  at  him  and  he  indigoantly  iufonoed  Dr.  Hatcher 
that  be  was  ooming  to  Bidimond  for  a  Bettlemoit. 

A  "council"  of  four  mimstere  vaa  called,  two  of  them  re- 
presenting Dr.  Hatcher  and  the  other  two  repregentJng  tiie 
aggrieved  minister,  who  came  to  Bichmond  for  the  meeting. 
The  six  brethrrai  came  tc^ether  and  the  brother  chaiged  that 
Dr.  Hatcher  had  done  him  a  public  wrong  in  the  aforesaid 
article  and  demanded  that  the  matter  be  set  ri^t.  In  writing 
me  about  the  council  he  says  that  the  indignant  minister 
"took  an  hour,  or  more,  in  explaining  his  conn^tjon  with  tiie 

X — . Laud  Booms  which  had  no  connectitm  witii  our 

quarrel.  I  told  them  my  article  was  not  deogned  to  injure 
anybody  but  to  correct  a  growii^  evil  among  preachers, — ^that 
if  any  had  been  wounded  by  my  editorial,  it  was  simply  becauae 
they  had  put  themselves  in  the  way  of  my  6re.  The  Committee 
said  that  my  explanation  was  satisfactory  and  would  not  rec- 
ommend that  any  public  statement  as  to  the  affair  should  be 
made,  unless  Dr.  X wished  it  and  I  was  willing. 

"As  a  mmple  fact,  I  was  not  hittii^  X .    I  told  him 

that  I  could  not  forget,  while  writii^  the  article,  his  record  on 
the  Land  Boom  businesa,  but  it  was  no  wish  of  mine  to  hurt 
him.  I  only  was  anxious  that  he  should  not  hurt  anybody 
else.    Thus  it  ended.    A  email  and  transient  sraisation." 

While  his  editorial  pen  dropped  kindness  in  nearly  every 
paragraph,  yet  he  had  in  hjm  the  critical  element,  and  he  was 
unsparing  in  his  denunciations  when  occasion  called  for  it. 
He  sought  to  correct  faults,  not  mmply  in  his  children,  but  in 
haya  and  young  jneachen.  He  op^ied  fire  in  his  paper  against 
the  practice  of  some  preachers  in  that  day  of  ddivering  little 
"Preludes"  before  thar  regular  sermons.  He  scored  those 
evangelists  who  were  in  a  habit  when  b^inaing  a  meeting 
in  a  town  of  wbipjung  the  town  into  a  tempest  by  denunciations 
ot  absent  officials  and  by  other  such  sensational  metliods. 

He  had  a  niece  to  whom  be  was  much  attached.  He  said 
to  her  one  day: 

"You  must  watch  your  tongue,  Bettie;  you  will  hurt  more 
peofde  with  it  than  you  help,  if  you  dont  mind,"  to  which  she 
sixaewhat  bluntly  repUed: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  NEW  CHXJRCH  CONTEMPLATED    315 

"Well,  Uncle  William;  how  about  your  watching  your  pen?" 
She  knew  that  he  was  very,  free  in  expreeang  himself  in  the 
public  prem  regarding  the  things  he  did  not  like.  During  his 
connection  with  the  Herald  he  repmnanded  a  Vii^nia 
Bishop  for  declaring,  in  a  heated  manner  in  a  public  gathering, 
that  he  would  not  be  "bullied  or  bwted"  by  any  one.  Dr. 
Hatcha  fdt  that  Buch  pubHc  words  by  such  a  prominent 
church  offidal  were  improper  and  so — to  tiie  dismay  of  many — 
he  opoied  fire. 

He  waa  present  at  a  conference  in  Biohmond  of  certtun  Baptist 
mimsters  and  hqrmen.  He  was  a  young  pastor  then  and  In 
the  conference  was  a  Richmond  layman,  venerable  and  imponng 
in  ai^warance  and  (me  of  the  richest  if  not  the  richest  B^>tist 
in  the  state,  a  man  held  in  hi^  respect  by  all  and  in  the  con- 
fermce  his  word  was  practically  law.  No  ime  seemed  disposed 
to  diqnite  his  sway.  EBs  tooe  must  have  bordered  on  (he 
~  omniscient — at  any  rate  young  Mr.  Hatcher  thought  so  uid 

when  at  a  certain  point  in  the  discuamon  old  brother  T 

said  with  a  sort  of  dogmatic  drawl,  "Well,  I  did  not  know  that" 
the  young  preacher  could  restnun  himself  no  longer  and  he 

said  in  a  most  impresave  w^  "brethren,  brother  T 

states  that  he  did  not  know  that  and  it  goes  to  prove  that  there 

is  one  thing  in  the  worid  that  brother  T did  not 

know."  The  old  gentleman  felt  a  jolt  and  maybe  had  one  or 
two  thoughts  that  were  not  recorded  in  the  minutes  of  the 
meeting. 

His  ehnrch  had  decided  to  erect  a  lai^e  and  magnificient 
structure.  A  temporary  tabernacle  waa  built  in  which  to  hold 
the  servieee  during  the  construction  of  the  new  building.  Re- 
garding his  old  church,  which  was  now  bong  taken  to  pieces,  he 
writes: 

"As  a  nun  it  has  a  pathetic  and  sorrowful  look  and  it  makes 
me  faint  of  soul  to  go  by  it,  though  my  mckness  of  spirit  may 
spring,  in  part,  from  the  burden  of  building  the  new  house. 

He  took  active  interest  in  the  establishment  of  a  Baptist 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


316  SUMMER  TRAVELS 

Orphaiu^  for  the  state,  was  appointed  as  cbainnan  of  a  com- 
mittee of  tlie  General  AsBodation  to  select  a  location  for  the 
mstitution  and  went  twice  with  the  committee  on  a  tour  of  in- 
spection of  certain  towns  in  the  state.  In  one  of  his  letters 
he  says,  "I  have  breakfast  in  the  mpming  for  Felix  and  Dixoo." 
ThJB  sentence  points  to  a  favorite  custom  with  him, — that  of 
having  "breakfasts"  for  his  ministerial  viators.  Dr.  Landrum, 
in  a  public  discourse  once  spoke  of '  'Breakfasts  at  Dr.  Hatcher's" 
as  one  of  the  happy  social  events  in  the  life  of  the  Ricdunond 
pastoiB. 

During  the  Summer  he  spent  his  vacation  among  tiie  country 
churches.  At  the  James  Biver  Association  it  was  said,  "Dr. 
Hatcher  was  never  In  better  trim.  He  preached  with  more 
than  usual  power  and  unction,"  and  a  correspondent  from 
JeffcTBontoa  where  he  held  a  week's  meeting^  writes,  "How 
we  were  all  drawn  to  Dr.  Hatcher,  the  prince  of  Southern 
preachers." 

After  attendii^  the  Middle  District  Association,  he  writes 
me  on  Aug.  8th: 

"X preached  the  sermon  and  it  was  not  well  re- 

cdved.  It  was  very  censorious,  cold  and  pesamistic.  He  has 
evidently  been  in  trouble  and  lost  faith  in  humanity.  I  think 
that  I  will  write  to  him  and  try  to  cheer  him  up.  .  .  I 
called  out  Dudley  Rudd  and  he  made  a  clear  and  senMble 
statement  as  to  his  work  at  Powhatan  station.  We  then  got  a 
collection  for  him,  amounting  to  $127.  He  was  wonderfully 
set  up.  I  am  to  preach  for  him  next  Sunday  i^temoon.  Today 
I  am  crushed  with  manifold  work  and  mu3t  cut  short  my  letter." 

His  Summer  travbl^,  included  Brooklyn  and  Saratoga  N.  Y. 
With  his  return  to  Richmond  he  grappled  in  v^orous  fashion 
his  buildii^  campaign.  The  following  letter  of  Oct.  4th,  ^vee 
us  a  peep  behind  the  scenes : 

"Mt  Dear  Eldridoe: 

"Today  has  been  glorious  and  I  celebrated  it  with  a  game  of 
croquet.  This  has  been  an  anxious  week  with  me.  We  had 
4^,000  to  raise  and  Foster  was  sick.    But  the  brethren  got  their 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


INTEREST  IN  PLAIN  PEOPLE        317 

blood  up  and  the  money  came  in.  I  put  in  $100  and  that  rather 
put  my  blood  aomevhat  down;  but  I  am  in  for  the  war  and  am 
ECHi^  to  put  in  my  'blood  and  treasure'.  .  .  I  got  blue  one 
day, — ju0t  for  an  hour  and  I  was  very  blue,  but  I  soon  got  back 
to  my  standing  ground  that  the  Lord  was  in  the  movement 
and  will  carry  us  through.  .  .  I  went  around  to  see  my 
beloved  brother  Gates  last  mgbt.    What  a  comfort  he  is  to  me. 

He  UAd  me  a  bit' of  news.      He  saya  that  X is  not 

happy  at  church.    ...    I  am  not  specially  in- 

tcorasted  in  his  coming  back.  I  would  not  move  my  finger  to 
bring  him  back  as  a  mattw  of  triumph  over  that  faction.  I 
scorn  to  (Up  as  low  as  that.  I  am  seeing  to  elevate  the  tone 
of  my  church  and  I  think  it  will  come.  My  people  seem  happy 
and  united. 

"Sunday  nif/ht.  .  ,  My  people  aeem  to  think  my  eennons 
were  above  average,  but  I  am  sore  because  of  my  lack  of 
spiritual  power.     I  must  see  the  people  coming  to  Christ." 

It  was  a  marked  characteristic  of  his  to  take  interest  in  the 
plain  people  about  him, — in  fact  in  people  of  aU  classes.  He 
udgbt  be  buying  candy  from  a  confectioner,  or  having  his  shoes 
shined  or  buying  a  newspaper, — whatever  the  simple  transac- 
tion might  be,  he  treated  the  person  with  whom  he  was  dealing 
as  a  n^ghbor — yea,  as  a  brother  and  he  generally  fell  into  an 
intereflting  colloquy  with  him.  "Nothing  that  is  human  was 
alien  to  him"  writes  Dr.  Dodd.  "He  bad  the  eye  which  mngles 
out  worth  everywhere."  He  often  saw  in  people  what  super- 
fidal  observers  failed  to  see  and  Us  stories  of  striking 
characters  whom  he  had  met  were  due  to  his  discovering  and 
eliciting  Uie  finer  truts  in  plfun  people.  Concerning  his  old 
barber,  he  wrote  me  on  Oct.  12th: 

"My  old  Barber  Hobson  died  Friday.  It  was  a  real. grief  to 
me  for  he  was  a  good  man  and  one  of  my  most  ardent  mends. 
It  was  always  a  pleasant  experience  to  hear  him  talk.  He  was 
a  Baptist  deacon  and  uncommonly  intelligent.  He  was  a 
reader  of  the  Baltimore  Baptist  and  alwajrs  bad  pithy  remarks 
to  make  on  my  productions.  I  was  sorry  that  I  could  not  go 
to  his  funeral. 

These  were  busy  days  witii  him.  His  church  was  to  hold  a 
Buaar,  and  he  wrote  that  the  "Boys  Table"  would  "have  a 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


318  THE  PORTRAIT  PAINTER 

motintun  cd  thingB..  .  .  I  had  a  fine  game  of  croquet  this 
afternoon  and  won  three  gamee.  I  had  my  same  pale-«yed 
D for  my  partner. 

"Saturday  morning.  I  am  muoh  inteneted  in  your  editorial 
work.  Seek  to  pmify  your  style  and  begin  to  use  your  ima^ 
nation.  Kight  often  you  must  draw  daborate  wwrd-picturea. 
Do  not  be  afraid  of  bemg  florid  and  eophomoric.  If  your  imagi- 
nation is  truthful,  it  cannot  be  too  lofty  in  its  fights.  The 
world  is  sluggish  and  needs  to  be  pleased   with   pictures." 

This  paragraph  ^vee  a  peep  into  his  own  literary  wortshop. 
His  popularity  as  a  writer  was  largely  due  to  the  fact  that 
he  would  in  ima^nation  see  what  he  was  writing,  and,  thus 
with  the  idea  before  his  gaze  he  would  mo^y  draw  it  for  the 
reader, — ^he  would  paint  it.  He  knew  how  to  use  his  colors 
and  it  was  for  this  reason  that  his  greatest  sermons  were  his 
character  sennons.  In  them  he  became  the  portrait  punter. 
It  might  be  mentioned  here  that  it  was  his  rule  never — or  with 
raze  exceptions — to  use  the  "underscore"  in  his  writings. 

In  November  the  General  Assodation  met  in  Biehmond. 
"The  Association  seems  rather  dull"  writes  my  mother.  "Your 
father  got  up  some  jollity  tonight  In  taking  a  collection  for 
two  churches.    Folks  are  coming  in  and  I  must  stop." 

He  had  a  constitutional  grudge  against  dull  meetings.  It 
may  seem  an  odd  method  which  he  employed  for  breakii^ 
up  the  dulness  in  tiie  above  Association, — ^that  of  "taking  a 
collection  for  two  churches."  But  theron  seemed  to  lie  his  art. 
The  fact  probably  was  that  those  two  churches  had  been 
pleading  with  him  during  the  meeting  to  champion  thdr  cause 
before  the  Association  and — when  the  exercises  had  grown 
tiresome — he  finally  yielded  to  their  im.portunities. 

In  such  cases  he  would  arise,  as  if  he  was  seeking  the  pro- 
tecti(»i  of  the  Association  and  say  something  hke  this: 

"Brother  Moderator,  I  have  a  pastor,  and  some  of  his  men, 
here  at  my  heels  and  I  am  thinkii^  of  moving  the  appoint- 
ment of  a  committee  of  lunacy  to  examine  them.  They  have 
the  impudence  to  imagine  that  because  they  have  no  ohuFoh 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HELPING  OTHERS  319 

building  in  ■which  to  worship,  and  very  little  money  with 
which  to  build  them  one,  that  somebody  in  this  Asaociation 
nugbt  be  willing  to  help  them.  I  have  sought  to  cure  them 
of  their  insanity  but  thmr  case  grows  worse.  "Whom  are  you 
talking  about?"  some  one  would  call  out.  "I  can't  tell  you" 
would  reply  Dr.  Hatcher  "because  they  might  want  a  col- 
lection." "Why  can't  we  help  them?"  would  calt  out  another 
and  in  a  few  momoits  the  delegates  would  be  insisting  on 
helping  "that  struggling  church,"  the  shining  coin  and  the 
greenbacks  would  be  flocking  in  and  Dr.  Hatcher  would  be 
called  to  the  front  to  direct  the  little  whirlwind  which  he  had 
started. 

"Dear  E:  "At  Kueobr's,  Monday  2  P.  M. 

"Here  are  Htt,  Whitfield  and  I.  We  are  here  for  oysters. 
I  send  this  to  say  that  I  met  Haddon  Watkins  just  now  and 
he  told  me  that  the  Skinquarter  church  [in  Chesterfield]  was 
burned  yesterday.    It  is  sul  news  I  have  no  details." 

"Yours,        Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

"Richmond  Va.,  Jan.  4th,  1891. 

"My  Dear  E, — I  am  very  sorry  for  the  Skinquarter  people. 
I  am  conjuring  some  little  scheme  to  pull  them  out  of  the  mire. 
Not  much  can  I  do,  but,  in  some  way,  or  another,  I  may  ^ve 
them  a  lift. 

"They  have  had  a  protracted  meeting  at  the  College"  he 
writes,  "but  it  has  not  come  to  much.    It  was  conducted  by  a 

evangelist.    I  heard  him  once  and  was  well  pleased — 

except  that  he  was  decidedly  too  gushy.  They  seemed  to  me 
to  be  worrying  tJie  boys  to  'eonfesa',  when  really  they  were 
not  o(mvicted." 

"RicHuoKD,  Feby.,  IStii,  1891. 

"My  Dkas  E, — I  am  just  from  church.  Boys  Amuversary 
boomed — big  crowd  and  fine  speeches  from  Sleight  and  Dr. 
Newton.  We  got  S103.81 — good  wasn't  it?  The  boys  sai^ 
splendidly.    It  was  a  great  success. 

"I  have  not  had  a  word  from  the  fairy  land  of  Chesterfidd 
for  some  wedcs.  I  think  that  even  your  intoxicated  fancy 
would  not  be  enchanted  by  a  proposed  drive  up  the  turnpike 
this  time.    But  we  csa  wait  wid  hope  for  better  days. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


320  REVIVAL  MEETINGS 

Conceniing  his  little  nephew  who  wsa  then  living  in  our  home 
he  writes: 

"JuniuB  bloomed  out  in  his  long  breeches  yesterday  and  is 
so  proud  that  it  is  believed  that  if  he  were  to  meet  the  angel 
Qabriet  on  the  road  he  would  a^  him  instantly  what  he  thou^t 
of  his  breeches." 

Two  or  three  weeks  later  he  writes: 

"Junius  has  regaled  us  this  week  with  a  capacious  case  of 
mumps.  His  jaws  have  been  spread  like  great  banners  and  the 
sight  of  him  has  been  a  comedy.  He  has  stood  the  fire  of  our 
fim  and  ridicule  quite  serenely  and  is  now  neariy  well  again." 

The  latter  part  of  March  he  undertook  a  revival  oampugn 
in  the  tabernacle,  with  Dr.  J.  S.  Felix  assisting  him.  He  had 
recently  aided  Dr.  Felix  in  meetings  at  his  Lynchbuig  Church. 

"Your  father  and  Dr.  Felix,  have  just  started  in  the  rain 
to  dinner  at  Ford's  hotel"  writ^  my  mother.  "Before  starting, 
your  father  gave  Dr.  Felix  some  account  of  his  stay  in  England—- 
said  that  if  he  were  a  young  man  he  would  go  over  there  and 
help  the  r^ular  Baptists.  .  .  He  gave  him  at  breakfast 
a  picture  of  the  Blchmond  pastors  as  he  first  knew  them; 
Burrows,  at  the  First,  took  a  notion  to  wear  a  gown  a  Uttle 
while.  Dr.  Howell  at  2nd  wore  a  larger  cloak,  or  toga,  thrown 
over  his  shoulders." 

He  writes:  "Monday  morning.  I  am  now  ^rs4>pUng  with 
the  question  as  to  how  we  are  to  get  (15,000  m  cash  during 
{he  Sprii^.   The  Lord  must  show  me  how." 

It  was  no  meiB  form  of  speech  with  him  when  he  qwke 
of  his  dependence  on  God  for  aid  in  his  work.  He  loved  men 
but  he  leaned  aa  God. 

"BicsHOND,  Va.,  March,  23rd,  1891. 
"My  Db&b  E, — Edith  is  evidently  better.  .  .  She  is  as 
radiant  as  a  prineesa.  .  .  Kate  is  here  and  we  have  just 
closed  a  quarrel  on  matrimony.  I  tell  her  not  to  many  any 
man  whom  she  can  not  obey  and  she  says  that  she  will  req)ect, 
but  she  will  not  obey  the  man  she  marries.  She  reports  an 
immense  time  in  N.  C." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  YOUNG  MAN  FROM  GERMANY  321 

"My  building  work  lies  heavily  upon  me.  We  will  need 
(15,000  by  the  end  of  May.  I  get  dazed  at  times  and  yet  I  am 
sure  that  my  people  will  realise  the  situation." 

He  showed  a  great  kindnesa  to  an  old  man,  not  a  member  of 
his  church.  His  son,  not  a  Bt^tist,  sent  him  a  note  and  a  hand- 
Bome  chair,  asking  hun  to  acc^t  it  as  a  tok^  of  grateful 


"It  touched  me  deeply"  writes  my  father  "So  many  think 
I  dight  them  that  I  rejoice  when  one  comes  back." 

"To>morrow  morning  the  Felixes  and  other  preachers  are  to 
be  here  to  breakfast,"  writes  my  mother,  on  March  19th,  and 
on  April  15th,  she  writes  oonceming  a  young  man  whom  he 
took  in  his  home  and  sought  to  help: 

"Your  father  brought  in  a  young  man  from  Germany, — 
who  has  hved  several  years  in  this  country,  who  wants  to 
Btu<^  for  the  ministry.  .  .  He  came  here  looking  for  work 
and  has  not  been  successful  yet.  He  is  surely  a  bright  and  inter- 
esting fellow.  The  girls  are  highly  entertained  by  him.  .  .  . 
Two  other  young  men  have  been  here  recently  lookit^  for 
situations, — both  from  North  Carolina. 

"Your  father  has  not  improved  his  physical  condition  since 
I  last  wrote.  .  .  He  has  gone  to  the  CoU^e  for  a  game  this 
afternoon.  .  .  The  bell  has  kept  up  an  incessant  ringing 
while  I  have  been  writing^muat  stop  now  and  see  who  is  Ute 
last  and  what  his  demands  are." 

To  bis  daughter  Orie  he  writes  on  May  5th  a  letter  thanking 
her  for  a  "beautiful  present"  which  she  has  sent  him  and  con- 
cluding as  follows: 

"I  am  sorry  I  cannot  return  you  a  poetic  response  to  your 
fine  lines  which  accompany  your  gift.  The  Muses  have  never 
been  in  the  least  friendly  to  me  and  I  know  that  I  could  not 
woo  them  in  my  present  mood." 

His  love  for  poetry  seemed  small.  In  his  eaily  Gfe  he  was 
fond  of  it,  but  this  fondness  seemed  to  diminish  rather  than  in- 
crease and  during  the  larger  part  of  his  ministry  he  rarely  read, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


322  BROWNING 

or  quoted  poetry.  He  said  in  his  later  life  "I  like  poetry  but  [ 
never  quoted  it,  because  it  would  aever  stick  in  my  meniory." 
In  this  connectioQ  it  may  be  mentioned  that  a  lady  on  one 
occasion  ^X)ke  of  the  resemblance  between  Dr.  Hatcher  and 
Browning  and  when  asked  to  state  the  points  of  resemblance 
she  gave  the  following: 

Love  of  people. 

Deep  interest  in  human  nature. 

Optimism. 

A  fighter. 

Love  of  Reality — contempt  of  sham. 

Healthy-miudeduess . 

Greatly  beloved  by  others 

Vivid  anticipation  of  the  other  world 

Desire  for  sudden  death. 
He  often  sought  to  put  honor  upon  his  brethren  in  dentsni- 
natJonal  gatherings,  by  si^geetii^  to  the  presiding  officer 
to  call  out  these  brethrsi  and  lay  certain  pubUc  tasks  upon  them. 
It  would  be  interesting  to  know  how  many  of  those  who,  in 
the  Southern  Baptist  Convention,  were  called  upon  to  respond 
to  the  Address  of  Welcome,  were  sugfeeted  beforehand  to  the 
President  by  Dr.  Hatcher.  Not  tliat  there  was  any  agreement 
about  this  from  year  to  year  nor  tliat  any  of  the  preading 
o&ceiB  felt  under  any  obligation  whatever  to  look  to  Dr. 
Hatcher  for  this.  But  it  came  to  pass  that  almost  each  year, 
for  many  years,  he  would  suggest  a  brother  im  tiiat  purpose — 
writing  to  the  President  days  or  weeks  before  the  meeting  of 
the  Convention.  He  loved  to  encourage  his  younger  bretbrm. 
He  delighted  to  stimulate  them  to  lai^er  things  and  in  different 
wa^  he  wouM  bring  them  to  the  front.  The  following  letter 
from  Judge  Haralson,  preddent  of  the  Southern  Bf^tist  Con- 
vention, cites  a  case  in  point  which  occured  at  the  meeting  in 
Birmingham,  which  Dr.  Hateher  was  prevented,  by  sickness, 
from  attending: 

"Sel»a,  Ala.,  May,  14th,  1891. 
"My  Dear  Doctor, — We  all  deplored  your  absence  but  the 
cause  was  well  understood. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  BALTIMORE  BAPTIST  323 

"I  wanted  to  see  you  and  talk  over  my  incumbency,  or  tbe 
leogtii  of  it.  You  Imow  what  you  said  to  me  at  Memphis,  I 
am  not  greedy.  Sometime,  or  other,  I  want  to  confer  with  you 
about  it  and  waa  specially  anxious  to  have  you  for  a  room  mate 
at  the  Florence  that  we  might  talk  the  stars  out  about  a  thous- 
and things. 

"Youi  old  friend  Pritchard  was  there,  and  bright  and  cheery 
as  ever.  In  a  good  crowd,  I  told  that  when  you  and  he  were 
crossing  the  Alps  and  had  to  spend  the  night  on  its  glorious 
Bummita  you  missed  bim  and  when  you  came  to  look  him  up, 
found  that  he  had  n^ed  up  a  guide  and  his  dog  and  gone 
coon  hunting. 

"Acting  on  your  admirable  su^estion  (a  relief  to  me)  I 
topped  D ■ up  and  he  replied  [to  the  address  of  wel- 
come].   Ill  say  be  did  it  nobly. 

"Fwthfully  and  Affectionately 

"Jon'  Haralson." 

He  was  still  writing  for  the  Baltimore  Baptist,  and  as  an 
example  of  the  sunlight  which  his  newHpaper  jottings  often 
put  into  other  lives  may  be  mentioned  the  case  of  a  minister 
who  had  recently  come  from  another  state  to  the  pastorate  of 
the  First  church  in  one  of  the  Virpnia  cities.  Dr.  Hatcher 
wrote  an  item  about  his  visit  in  the  home  of  the  new  pastor  and 
recKved  a  letter  from  him  saying:  "This  morning,  we  opened 
the  mwl  together.     There  were  sad  letters  and  glad  letters 

from  the  Virginia  side  and  from  the side,  but  nothing 

did  her  [his  wife]  more  good,  or  touched  our  hearts,  kindled 
our  gratitude  and  awakened  our  appreciation  more  than  the 
warm  and  gracious  words  from  your  pen  in  the  Bidtimore 
Baptist.     It  has  proved  a  rare  exhilaxant  and  tonic  to  Mrs. 

,  to  say  nothing  of  its  efEect  upon  the  rest  of  us.    I 

feel  tliat  the Association  owes  you  a  vote  of  thanks 

and  I  know  I  do.    And  Mrs. would  have  me  write 

you  at  once  how  we  feel  about  it  and  how  deeply  grateful  she 
IB  to  you  for  your  delicate  words  about  the  home  and  the  hos- 
tess." 

His  Summer  waa  spent  in  his  usual  way, — attending  As- 
Aodations,    holding   reyiyri    meetii^,    lecturing,    dedicating 


D.qit.zeabvG00t^lc 


324  YOUNG  PREACHERS 

cliurches  and  doing  other  such  reUgjoua  work.  At  the 
Potomac  Association"  said  the  Herald  "Dr.  Hatcher  was  in 
fine  feather.  Indeed,  he  was  never  happier  and  his  words 
went  straight  to  the  mark.  Tears  and  laughter;  laughter 
and  tears.  The  Orphanage  took  a  long  stride  onwards  and 
upwards." 

He  spent  three  Sundays  supplying  in  Washington  city.  One 
day  he  met  a  young  man  who  told  him  he  was  on  bis  way  to 
Richmond  College,  and  to  whom  he  said;  "When  you  get  to 
Richmond  I  want  to  help  you  to  be  happy." 

"On  the  next  Sunday"  writes  the  youi^  man  "I  united  with 
his  church  in  Richmond.  Many  a  good  word  of  cheer  he  spoke 
to  me  during  my  College  days, — even  offering  financial  aid 
if  I  should  need  it."  He  was  constantly  speaking  kind  words 
to  the  young  men  as  he  met  them  upon  the  highway, — especially 
to  young  preachers. 

Dr.  Andrew  Broadus,  Jr.,  writes: 

"No  man  outside  of  my  own  family  has  so  influenced  my 
life  for  good  and  I  feel  sure  that  more  preachers  can  say  that 
of  him  than  of  any  other  Baptist  preacher  who  has  lived  in 
Virginia." 

Says  Rev.  J.  L.  Rosser: 

"Were  each  of  those  whom  he  has  helped  on  the  way  to  bring 
but  a  angle  fiower  his  resting  place  would  become  a  mountain 
of  bloom." 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Oct.  4th,  1891. 

"My Dear  E, — It  is  now  20  minutes  to  eight  and  as  Powell 
of  M^co  (who  came  to  bring  some  Mexican  boys  to  College) 
is  to  preach  for  me  tonight  I  will  begin  my  letter  now. 

"After  church.  Had  a  large  but  not  a  crowded  audience 
for  Powell.    He  got  J180  and  seemed  well  satisfied." 

"I  see  much  in  my  church  to  distress  me.  I  am  at  a  dark 
place  in  my  work  and  see  that  I  have  got  to  be  more  with  the 
Lord.  A  pastor  can  do  nothii^  that  is  worth  doing  without 
getting  Divine  help  at  every  point," 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  STOP-OVER  AT  BtJRKEVILLE       326 

"MotuJay,  11  o'clock.  Dr.  Whitfield  goes  today  up  to  Beth- 
lehem to  help  Williama.  Ah;  can  they  have  such  sweet  days 
aa  we  had  there.    I  hope  they  may." 

On  Oct.  11th,  he  writea  me, — "I  am  concerned  about  your 
editorial  work.  Remember  that  a  wise  man  puts  as  much  work 
on  others  as  he  can.".  .  .  He  stopped  over  at  Burkeville, 
where  his  daughter,  Kate,  was  teaching  school  at  the  Institute. 
He  writes,  "She  is  the  queen  of  the  grove — everybody  says 
that  she  is  the  princess  squaw  of  the  wig-wam  and  she  is  as 
happy  as  a  morning  lark." 

Regarding  my  purchase  of  clothing,  he  writes.  "I  suggest 
that  you  be  slow  in  buying  and  buy  only  what  is  first  class." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


ENTEBING  NEW  BUILDING.      HUMILITT.      BROKEN  PBIBNDSHIP. 
WAKE  FOREST   REVIVAL.      CHESTERFIELD.      HIS  NEW  BOY. 


Often,  from  this  time  on,  would  hie  letters  contain  e 
like  the  following:  "I  went  to  Salem  Thurdsay  night  and  got 
home  to  breakfast  SatordaT-  momiag.  TbingB  look  wfJI  at 
Salem  and  the  Orphanage  has  a  golden  dawn  on  ita  aky." 
These  all-night  tripe,  in  behalf  of  his  beloved  Orphanage,  made 
heavy  drains  upon  his  stret^tb.  "Not  only  was  Dr.  Hatcher 
a  great  factor  in  the  maintenance  of  the  Orphanage"  awd  one 
of  the  Trustees  "but,  at  least  on  one  occasion,  he  saved  the 
day  tor  the  institution,  when  it  was  trembling  in  the  balance." 
Such  work  was  the  joy  of  his  life  and  he  kept  it  up  until 
his  life  reached  its  end. 

He  found  rich  companionship  in  his  two  youngest  daughters, 
Lill  and  Edith.  He  entered  into  their  young  lives  and  thus  re- 
freshed his  soul,  as  well  as  put  much  sunshine  on  their  path- 
way.    Edith  was  visting  in  Burkeville,  and  he  writes  me: 

"Yesterdi^r  afternoon  Lill  and  I  took  a  ride  to  Manchester, 
Her  companionship  was  most  f^eeable  to  me.  As  we  came 
back  I  took  her  to  Reugera  and  gave  her  a  supper  which  she 
seemed  to  enjoy, 

"It  looks  now  as  if  I  may  soon  publish  a  book  of  Character 
Sermons.  If  the  arrangement  is  made  I  will  preach  my  sermons 
over  in  a  series  this  Fall  and  Winter,  have  them  t^en  down 
by  a  stenographer  and  publish  them  in  the  Spring." 

Unfortunately  this  was  not  done. 

The  day  drew  near  for  his  church  to  enter  their  splendid  new 
buildii^.    "It  is  truly  a  thing  of  beauty  and  seems  to  excite 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


JHE  NEW  GRACE  STREET  BAPTIST  C 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


THE  NEW  BUILDING  327 

universal  pruse"  he  writes  and  then  adds  "I  hope  to  see  great 
times  when  we  get  iato  the  new  bouse." 

"I  came  down  town  this  morning"  writes  my  mother 
"and  stopped  in  [at  the  new  building]  for  a  few  moments.  Your 
father  was  showing  Dr.  W.  D.  Thomas  through  the  building. 
He  t^es  every  one  through  whom  he  happens  t«  meet,  who 
might  wish  to  see  it." 

"My  people  are  somewhat  nervous  and  over-worked"  he 
writes  "and  show  a  little  fretfulnesa  at  times,  but  I  am  sur- 
prised at  my  own  patience.  It  looks  as  if  nothing  frets  me  and 
this  is  a  great  comfort  to  me.  The  fact  is,  I  am  so  much  in 
earnest  about  things  that  I  am  not  moved  by  the  small  agita- 
tions that  mark  some  of  my  impulave  people." 

The  new  building  was  roagnifiaent.  Th^  had  not  been  able 
to  eomplete  the  auditorium,  but  all  the  building  except  the 
auditorium  was  finished  and  the  School  room,  with  its  side 
rooms  openii^  into  the  larger  room,  funusbed  aecommodatjon 
for  1000  and  more. 

Nov,  2Mb  was  the  day  for  entering  their  new  structure,  but 
ibty  tamkB  that  mormng  to  find  the  eity  wrapped  in  a  btindii^ 
ten^Mst  (tf  s&ow.  "I  was  not  in  the  least  disconcerted  by  the 
weatbfff"  be  wrote.  "It  mattered  not  to  me  that  it  snowed.  We 
bad  the  house  and  I  was  happy  over  that.  I  could  not  let 
a  taxrponry  inconvenience  make  me  UDfaiq)py." 

Now  that  the  building  stnnn,  with  Ma  finaodal  and  material 
bothers  was  over,  tus  next  ambitiaa  was  for  a  great  spiritual 
revival  for  his  church.  "We  bid  a  glorious  time  today"  he 
writes  on  the  next  Sunday, — "631  in  the  Sunday  School  cannot 
easily  be  beat.  The  congregation  overflowed  our  ch^rs  and 
bad  to  be  put  into  the  adjacent  rooms. 

"Oh,  for  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  I  hope  to  see  it  before 
the  winter  ends.  I  never  had  such  low  views  of  my  gifts  and 
performances  as  I  now  have.  I  amount  to  next  to  nothing. 
My  work  seems  to  be  very  mean  and  my  power  over  people 
is  not  ao  great  as  it  was.    But  I  am  not  depressed  by  these 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


328  HUMILITY 

thii^.  My  mind  ia  made  up  to  do  my  best — if  I  have  any 
best — and  to  trust  in  the  Lord." 

One  of  his  cardinal  traits  was  his  humility.  I  had  almost 
pronounced  it  his  chief  virtue,  because  out  of  it  grew  some  of 
his  richest  qualities.  "I  believe"  says  Ruskin  "that  the  first 
test  of  a  truly  great  man  is  his  humility."  Dr.  Hatcher's  humil- 
ity exerdsed  a  controlling  influence  over  his  intellectual 
forces.  It  waa  wiih  him  a  mental,  as  well  as  a  moral,  attitude. 
Humility  is  not  an  abject  self-depreciation,  but  a  reoc^mtioQ 
of  the  difference  between  what  we  are  and  what  we  ought  to 
be; — ^between  what  we  know  and  what  there  is  to  be  known. 
"As  for  me",  says  Socrates,  "all  I  know  is  that  I  know  nothing." 

His  hps  recoiled  from  boastful  words.  How  often  I  heard  him 
say  'Tm  such  a  fool"  or  "I've  got  no  sense."  Frequently  as 
a  boy  I  would  be  in  public  meetinffs  where  certun  speakers 
would  indulge  in  h^  laudations  of  him, — as  if  he  was  aome- 
tbing  wonderful  indeed — and  when,  after  the  meetings,  I 
would  expect  to  find  him  elated  over  the  parade  that  bad  been 
made  over  him,  I  would  get  a  little  shock,  as  he  would  say, 
"Absurdl  preposterousl"  Even  as  a  boy,  he  had  a  acom  for 
sdf  display.  The  boy  who  in  company  sought  to  "show  ofT' 
met  his  dis^provaL  He  sfud  that  when  he  arrived  at  BictmuHid 
College  for  the  first  time  he  rode  up  from  the  depot  in  the  same 
conveyance  with  another  new  student — besides  his  brother — 
and  that  he  was  startled  at  the  bluster  with  which  this  new 
student  gave  orders  to  the  driver  and  the  pompous  airs  he 
assumed  as  he  approai^ed  the  Collie.  His  own  feeling  waa 
one  of  tre^ndation,  as  he  Ihought  of  how  UtUe  he  knew,  and  of 
how  much  knowledge  the  College  before  him  stood  for. 

He  had  a  mori^l  horror  of  being  knocked  down.  Christ's 
picture  of  the  man  jumping  mto  the  highest  seat  at  the  Feast  and 
being  ordered  by  the  host  to  vacate  and  move  to  the  lowest  seat 
must  have  been  taught  to  him  in  his  early  days.  At  any  rate 
he  shrank  from  self  exaltation. 

One  of  the  ruling  ambitions  of  his  life  was  to  reach  "tiie  best" 
in  every  thing,  and  it  was  his  struggle  to  reach  "the  best" 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HUMILITY  329 

that  kept  him  ever  in  sight  of  his  limitations.  His  fear  of  the 
fool  killer  on  his  arrival  at  College  was  no  jocular  pretense. 
He  did  not  protest  against  kindly  praise  of  hiioself  that  came 
to  him  from  others.  As  a  boy,  he  said  he  "yearned  for  appre- 
dation"  and  it  is  not  siupriang  that  one  who  put  himself  so 
low,  and  gave  his  life  so  lately  for  the  happiness  of  others, 
should  have  eagerly  welcomed  every  t^^en  of  appreciation 
and  love  from  others. 

"I  dare  not  use  the  word  "success"  in  connection  with  any 
part  of  my  life"  he  once  said.  "I  am  so  vexed,  even  in  the 
fairest  recollections  of  my  work,  by  my  ever  deepening  sense 
of  inadequacy  and  unfaithfulness  that  I  am  afraid  to  admit 
even  to  myself  that  I  could  safely  epeak  of  my  success  in  any 
of  the  graver  undertakings  of  my  life." 

Let  it  not  be  tho;^t  however  that  this  humility  became  self 
debasem^it,  or  that  it  injured  his  self  respect.  He  put  him- 
self down  but  he  did  not  permit  others  to  asast  him  in  the 
operation.  When  others  attempted  to  retire  him  to  the  rear 
his  s^ise  of  justice  sprang  into  the  arena.  He  had  r^;ard  for 
his  poalion  as  a  minister  and  a  pastor.  On  one  occassion  there 
was  to  be  a  marriage  in  Richmond  in  which  he  and  a  pastor 
from  another  city  were  to  take  part.  The  visiting  pastor 
arranged  the  matrimonial  programme  and  asmgned  him  a  very 
insgnificant  place  on  it  which  he  felt  that  the  conditions  did 
not  call  for  and  he  instantly  imformed  the  viatii^  brother — 
with  whom  he  was  well  acqutunted — that  he  would  not  par^ 
tidpate  in  the  ceremony  as  arrai^^;  he  said  tiiat  he  was 
perfectly  willing  to  bow  himself  out  of  the  ceremony  altc^ether 
but  that  if  he  took  part  it  must  be  on  a  basis  that  would  not 
put  him  at  an  insignificant  place  on  the  schedule.  The  brother 
knew  too  well  the  justice  of  the  compbunt  and  promptly  read- 
jtisted  the  prt^ramnie. 

He  delighted  in  the  "family  reumons"  at  Christmas.  On 
this  Christmas,  his  lai^e  subscription  to  his  church  building 
fund  caused  him  to  threaten  small  home  e^tenditures  for 
the  holiday  season  and  he  wrote  me  at  Louisville: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


330  CHRISTMAS  REUNION 

"We  iu*e  preparing  a  royal  welcome  and  short  rationa  for  the 
prodigals  of  the  houaehold.  On  the  score  of  muac,  we  will  try 
to  ^ve  full  measure — perhaps  we  may  dance  a  little,  but  the 
fatted  calf  is  not  expected  to  attend." 

After  the  joyful  festivities  of  the  "reunion"  I  returned 
to  Louisville.  He  drove  me  to  the  depot  and  on  Jan.  10th, 
be  wrote: 

"I  had  a  sorrowful  heart  when  I  parted  from  you  on  Friday 
night.  As  I  got  up  Broad  Street,  I  gouM  see  the  train  careering 
up  the  valley  taking  you  away  and  I  felt  envious  of  its  charge. 
Your  visit  was  sunlight  to  me,  and  your  going  was  a  trial.  . 
I  can  but  pray  that  our  Iota  may  be  cast  near  each  other  in  the 
coming  years. 

"I  have  promised  the  prls  an  oyster  supper  at  10  1-2  to- 
morrow night." 

A  week  later  he  vrrites: 

"I  spent  last  week  in  paying  my  debts  and  have  few  left. 
My  debts  and  my  money  disappeared  about  the  same  time. 
One  saya  I  must  tell  you  that  I  went  out  yesterday  and  bought 
a  fine  lot  of  table  liuen.  We  nev^  had  quite  such  a  varied  and 
el^ant  supply  before.  I  stiU  retun  my  unbition  to  have  my 
home  handsomely  fumiahed  provided  things  can  be  kept  in 
good  shape. 

"My  present  plan  is  to  make  an  earnest  puU  to  awaken 
deeper  spiritual  seal  in  my  church.  I  am  appalled  at  ^e 
coldneaa  of  nry  churdi.    It  crudiefi  me  to  the  ground." 

In  writjt^  of  a  ti^  whidi  he  was  planning  to  take  he  says: 

"The  big  valise  is  down  and  my  shirts,  collais,  etc.,  are 
snugly  packed.  I  am  quite  rich  in  new  collars,  cuffs  and  cravats. 
I  have  also  ventured  to  get  me  a  new  plain  suit.  It  smites 
my  soul  to  buy  these  things  but  I  am  compelled  to  waate  (as 
it  looks  to  me)  on  such  sordid  things  as  clotlies.  Mon^  secsna 
worthy  to  be  spent  on  nobler  objects.  I  feel  sorry  for  a  dollar 
that  has  to  be  d^raded  from  the  high  purpose  to  which  it 
might  be  devoted,  to  the  common-place  business  of  buying 
cuffs,  or  Bo^,  or  cravats.  But  we  must  have  some  regard  to 
decency  and  comfort. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  STRIKING  INCIDENT  331 

'"Hiis  week  has  been  chiefly  great  in  its  bad  weather.  Its 
most  shining  episode  in  my  career  has  bewi  the  pulling  of 
two  of  my  most  mimmisble  and  rickety  teeth. 

"I  am  getting  tides  (rf  letters  about  my  gomg  en  the  Herald. 
It  WBB  aunifestiy  the  wise  tfaong  for  me  to  do.  .  .  Try  to 
have  time  to  read  my  piece — "The  Two  Brooms." 

"I  went  to  Manchester  yesterday.  .  .  and  the  veiy 
proximity  to  Chesterfield  was  bahn  to  my  spirit.  .  .  Col. 
Peyton  of  the  Rockbridge  Alum  Springs  was  at  church  yester- 
day and  gave  your  mother  and  me  a  free  ticket  to  the  Springs 
u&A  Summer.  But  I  cannot  stand  the  Springs  it  would  ruin 
my  constitution  to  spend  a  month  at  tlie  Springs  so  loi%  as 
I  can  work. 

"Work  is  sweet  to  me  and  i«Bt  is  not — ^though  it  will  be 
after  awhile.  My  nrviv^  power  seems  to  be  smiJl  of  late.  I 
have  an  opisioa  of  myself  which  grows  steadily  in  smallness." 

A^in  he  writes: 

"I  have  a  little  coiudn  to  stay  with  me  tonight.     His  name  is 

I^wik and  his  father  is  my  first  cousin.     .     .    life 

gets  yery  sober  to  me.  The  death  of  Spurgeon  struck  me  in  a 
sensitire  ^xit  and  put  me  to  thinhiag.  I  most  do  my  rery  beet 
for  the  rest  <rf  my  days. 

"Heavcu  bless  you.  I  am  glad  that  you  were  so  much  edified 
by  your  tr^i  to  Shelbyville.  You  surely  have  my  passion  for 
going.    It  will  follow  you  all  your  days," 

His  next  letter  to  me  c^ls  up  a  striking  incident  in  his  life, 
which  had  several  chi^iters.  A  few  years  before  this  time  he 
and  a  party  of  ministers  and  laymen  had  taken  a  long,  rough 
mountun  ride  to  an  Association.  The  trip  was  interpersed 
with  outbursts  of  humor  and  fun  on  the  part  of  Dr.  Hatcher 

and  others.    In  the  party  was  Prof, an  intimate  and 

honored  friend  of  Dr.  Hatcher,  with  whom  he  had  in  former 

years  many  hours  of  happy  fellowship.    Prof.  dJB- 

spptaved  of  the  fun  and  humor  of  Dr.  Hatcher  and  others  in 
the  party  as  being  inconsst«nt  with  their  dignity  as  ministers, 
and  at  some  public  gathering,  he  referred  to  Dr.  Hatcher  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


332  A  BROKEN  FRIENDSHIP 

the  others  as  "difigracing  the  cause  of  Christ  by  their 
levity." 

The  words  want  like  an  arrow  and  cut  Dr.  Hatcher  deeply. 
It  broke  the  close  relations  that  had  bound  them  t<%ether. 
Soon  after  that  I  found  myself  one  afternoon  in  the  buggy 
vith  my  father  headed  for  the  College.    A  friend  of  his  and  of 

Prof. had  invited  him  out  to  tile  College  for  a  game  of 

cn^uet.  He  was  happy  in  the  prospect  of  the  contest.  On 
the  croquet  ground  as  we  drove  up  were  several  gentlemen, — 

among  them  Prof. ,  and  my  father  seemed  to  detect 

immediately  a  plan  to  bring  him  and  his  old  friend  into  eadi 
other's  compaiqr  in  tiie  game  and  thus  the  heal  breach, — a 

plan  of  which  Prof. also  was  undoubtedly  ^norant. 

But  my  fathOT  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  at  once 
gathering  up  the  reins,  he  turned  the  horse's  head  and  drove 
on  off  the  campus.  I  remember  not  what  was  aaii,  but  I  got 
a  stnmg  impresaon  that  my  father  was  in  no  mood  for  such  a 
game  with  its  rec(Hidliatoiy  attachments.  He  needed  time; 
and  time  did  its  wo^  though  the  old  friendship  never  re- 
turned and  they  never  became  equally  as  cordial  as  in  former 
times,  yet  they  often  mingled  in  pleasant  intercourse.  It 
was  at  ttus  time  (February,  1892) — eaght  or  ten  years  after  the 
above  inddent  occured — that  he  was  holding  a  meeting  in 
another  dty,  not  very  far  from  which  lived  his  old  frioid,  to 
whom  he  referred  in  the  following  letter: 
"Saturday  morning" 

"Prof.  and  Ms  daugther  have  been  over  to  the 

meeting.  They  both  gave  me  much  kind  attention  and  seemed 
set  on  my  goii^;  over  to  — — ~,  but  I  do  not  see  any  prospect 
of  going.    I  have  not  been  there  for  years — ^never  since  Prof. 

and  I  had  the  unpleasant  experience  in whers 

Jie  charged  that ,  and  I  disgraced  the  cause 

of  Christ  by  our  levity  and  inconsistency.  I  told  him  then  that 
I  freely  forgave  him  for  the  wrong  and  would  never  harbor  any 
unkind  thov^ts  of  Mm,  but  that  I  could  never  think  of  him 
as  a  friend  nor  exchange  hospitable  courtesies.    We  get  along 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  BROKEN  FRIENDSHIP  333 

together  first  rate  and  I  would  go  to just  to  show  my 

good  will  if  I  could,  but  I  will  not  have  time." 

It  is  good  to  know  that,  as  the  years  passed,  be  and  Prof. 

were  thrown  together  in  many  pleasant  experiences 

and  co-operated  on  cordial  terms  in  denominational  work. 

While  the  old  friendship  had  suffered  a  wound  from  which 
it  could  never  entirely  recover,  yet  they  held  each  other  in 
high  respect  and  esteem  and  he  was  ever  glad  to  put  honor  on 
his  friend  of  other  days,  and  when  the  end  came  it  was  Dr. 
Hatcher,  who  was  chosen  to  dehver  the  address  at  his  funeral. 
He  gladly  responded  to  the  request  and  it  was  a  lofty,  almost 
imperial,  tribute  which  he  paid  to  his  fine  old  friend  of-  the 
former  years. 

His  friendships  were  among  his  most  sacred  treasures. 
Some  of  them  maintained  their  freshness  and  sweetness  to 
the  end;  some  of  them  suffered  shipwreck;  some  of  them  ended 
in  tragedies. 

In  speaking  of  one  of  his  broken  friendships,  he  sud,  "If 
you  cut  a  friendship  open  to  see  whether  it  is  there  you  kill 
it."  Some  time  after  he  made  that  remark  one  of  his  children 
became  estranged  from  a  dear  friend  and  when  the  father  said 
to  the  child  that  he  hoped  the  friendly  relations  would  con- 
tinue the  child  rephed,  "You  know  Papa,  you  said  if  you  cut 
open  a  friendship  to  see  whether  it  is  there  you  kill  it."  He 
Bud  no  more. 

The  latter  part  of  February  be  began  a  revival  in  his  church 
with  Dr.  W.  L.  Wright  aiding  him. 

"My  own  lettera  to  you  are  conceived  in  a  rush  and  bom 
in  a  nutter"  he  wrote  a  week  or  two  later  ...  "I  have 
never  felt  so  much  helped  by  a  meeting  in  my  life.  I  have 
waked  up  to  find  that  my  own  life  is  fearfully  weak  and  wrong 
and  that  my  ministry  amounts  to  next  to  nothing.  My  heart 
is  set  on  doing  better.  .  .  I  had  a  charming  incident  to 
brighten  the  day.  Just  as  I  came  into  my  study  this  after- 
notm  a  youth  nearly  grown  came  and  said  that  he  was  converted 
under  my  sermon  yesterday  morning.    It  was  very  comforting 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


334  WAKE  FOREST  MEETINGS 

to  me  for  I  have  had  a  depressing  view  of  my  ministerial 
weakness  of  late.  Indeed  I  have  been  very  weary  of  late. 
I  cannot  endure  so  much  as  in  the  past  and  you  will  have  to 
begin  to  think  of  me  as  your  old  father  after  awhile.  I  have  to 
spare  my  self  far  more  than  in  my  meridian  daya.  But  this 
is  not  so  distressing  to  me,  as  you  might  think, — I  mean  my 
growing  old." 

"I  believe  your  father  preached  about  the  finest  sermon 
last  Sunday"  wrote  my  mother  on  the  9th,  "that  I  ever  heard 
from  him,  from  Rev.  2:17.  'To  him  that  overcometh  etc.' 
He  treated  the  christian  life  as  a  succession  of  four  battles — 
at  the  gate  (conversion),  at  the  Cross  (self  sacrifice),  at  the 
heart  (self  mastery)  and  at  death." 

This  was  one  of  his  greatest  Bermons.  The  subject  was  "The 
Four  Battles"  and  he  drew  the  picture  oS  the  orenxxoing  Me, — 
the  life  that  was  triumphant  in  its  four  suprone  coi^cta — and 
of  the  rewards  whidi  tiie  text  prtMuiaed. 

He  held  a  series  of  meetings  at  Wake  Forest  CoU^ie 
which  mariced  &  new  era  in  his  life.  During  all  his  minis- 
try he  had  variied  his  worit  by  holding  revival  meetings, 
usually  in  the  country  or  in  towns, — with  occasional  meetings 
in  cities.  W^e  Forest  was  a  Coll^je  and  it  was  dflsUned  to  be 
the  fint  in  a  series  of  Collies  at  which  he  was  to  hold  revival 
campaigns  in  ihs  future.  His  evai^;elistic  labors  were  to 
take  an  even  wider  circle  and  include  large  cities  in  otlier  sec- 
tions than  Vir^^a  and  the  South,  An  invitation  came  to 
him  a  few  weeks  later  from  Rev.  Frank  Dixon  to  aid  him  in 
meetings  in  California.  "I  can  recall  no  part  of  my  career  as 
a  minister"  he  s^d  in  his  later  life  "that  has  been  more  inter- 
esting or  fruitFul  than  what  it  it  has  been  my  privil^e  to  do 
in  Colleges  and  Universitjes".  His  Wake  Forest  meetings 
worked  a  reli^ous  revolution  in  the  institution.  "The  College 
is  turned  upade  down"  he  writes.  "The  exerciEdes  are  suspended 
in  favor  of  the  meeting  and  the  students  and  dtisens  are  out 
in  great  crowds."  My  mother  writes  "A  letter  from  your 
father  yesterday  says  that  the  meeting  is  a  cyclone",  and  upon 
his  return  home  he  writes: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


WAKE  FOREST  335 

"The  joy  of  my  Hfe  touched  the  senitb  at  Wake  Fcoest.  I 
never  had  sush  a  meetiog  in  nay  life.  It  was  trecoeadous  and 
you  must  put  your  ima^nation  to  work.  Think  of  Bethlehem, 
multiplied  by  a  sympathetic  faculty,  over  200  students,  a 
villf^e  and  a  community  all  absorbed  in  the  work.  I  staid 
until  Saturday." 

Those  who  attended  his  meetings  testified  that  there  was 
in  them  a  power  not  of  this  world.  It  looked  for  a  few  days  as  if 
the  Wake  Forest  meetings  would  not  move  the  students; 

"but"  add  he  "when  Mercy  came  she  brought  the  very  glory 
of  heaven  with  her.  .  .  Our  greatest  day  was  election 
day  which  was  also  our  last  day.  .  .  A  day  Kke  that  seldom 
comes  in  any  human  life.  0  christian  reader  share  with  us 
the  gladness  of  having  seen  again  the  face  of  our  risen  Lord. 
Think  of  those  hundreds  of  young  people  at  this  senfdtive 
point  in  their  destinies  and  pray  for  them." 

Let  us  not  attempt  to  describe  his  raptures  during  such  an 
experience.  The  fire  kindled  in  his  heart  in  the  Wake  Forest 
meetings  must  have  burned  in  his  sermons  on  the  next  Sunday 
in  his  own  polfHt,  for  he  writes  regarding  his  morning  sermon 
"I  suppoBe  I  never  preached  a  sermon  that  moved  them  ntore." 

He  wrote  me  the  latter  part  of  May ; 

"I  come  to  my  desk  to  write  you  what  I  suppose  must  be 
my  last  letter  with  the  direction  Southern  Baptist  Theolopcal 
Seminary  on  it.  How  many  letters  I  have  written  you  while 
you  have  been  a  Seminariau,  and  how  miserably  poor  and 
gossipy  they  have  been.  I  would  regret  to  be  ju<^ed  by  them, 
either  on  their  literary,  or  intellectual,  or  reli^us  merits,  and 
yet  I  must  say  that  I  find  a  sort  of  regret  that  I  shall  write 
no  more  letters  to  you  with  the  Seminaty  stamp  upon  Uiem. 
These  weekly  unbosomii^  of  mys^  to  you  have  had  their 
pleasures."  ■ 

I  had  preached  at  one  of  the  New  York  churches  on  the 
preceding  Sunday  and  he  wrote  me  on  July  15th: 

"Good  morning  my  ladl  How  does  the  sky  look  to  you  this 
morning?  How  did  you  stand  the  storm  yesterday?  IMd  you 
smash  the  family  name,  or  did  you  eclipse  your  father's  fame? 
Tell  me  quick.     My  Powhatan  expedition  was  golden." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


336  THE  TYPEWRITER 

Ai^ust,  15th,  while  I  was  helping  his  life  long  friend,  Bev. 
John  R.  Bagby,  in  revival  meetii^  he  vritee  me: 

"It  f  airiy  inf  uriatee  me  to  reflect  on  the  hi^jpy  days  yon  and 
Bi^by  wiU  have  this  week.  Envy  fills  my  eoul.  You  have 
taken  your  father's  place  and  here  I  am  a  wanderer  among 
strangers. 

"But  never  mind.  Next  Saturday  week,  and  I  hope  the  Lord 
may  bring  our  quartette  together.  Do  not  let  Bagby  flinch^ 
or  hedtate  about  the  trip." 

"Mt  Deab  Eldbtoqe: 

"I  am  now  learnii^  to  write  on  the  typewriter  and  I  will 
pay  you  the  compliment  of  my  first  letter  to  you.  .  .  I  am 
conscious  that  I  can  never  be  an  expert  at  the  bumness,  wy 
afflicted  hand  being  the  incurable  barrier  in  the  way.  .  .  . 
Wednesday  morning.  .  .  I  tell  you  it  is  a  .tremendous 
undertaking  to  visit  all  the  homes  in  the  Grace  Street  Church. 
Saturday  morning.  Ah,  I  know  you  will  swell  with  envy 
when  I  relate  my  experiences  for  the  last  few  days.  Thursday 
afternoon,  I  went  up  to  Hallsboro  [in  Chesterfield]  to  see  the 
sick  folks.  .  .  Brother  Bob  Winfree  met  me  there  and 
after  we  had  finished  our  visit  he  took  me  behind  hia  fine  nag 
and  we  swept  down  the  road  to  Ms  house.  There  we  spent  the 
night.  Mrs  W.  gave  us  a  delicious  supper.  A  cheerful  fixe 
glowed  in  the  grate.  Bob  and  I  had  it  all  our  own  way.  We 
made  a  sermon  on  the  "Power  of  Woman's  Faith",  as  seen 
in  the  case  of  B,ahab.  Bob  thinks  with  quickness  and  vigor. 
His  acquaintance  with  the  Word  of  God  is  remarkable.  .  .  . 
Friday  morning  we  spent  in  study  up  to  noon,  and  then  we 
pitched  a  game  of  quoits.  Bob's  defeat  was  complete  and 
disgraceful.  We  had  six  tilts  and  he  never  won  a  game.  He 
was  terribly  humiliated.  He  said  that  if  he  could  get  some 
horse  shoes  he  would  blot  me  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

"We  learned  that  the  quarterly  church  meeting  at  Bethlehem 
was  in  session.  We  resolved  to  give  Brer  Williams  [the  pastor] 
a  surprise  and  so  away  we  careered  down  the  tum-pike  to  dear 
old  Bethlehem.  When  we  reached  the  scene,  the  men  were 
holding  a  conclave  in  the  house  and  the  ladies  were  having 
a  misdonary  meetii^  in  the  yard.  Pretty  soon  he  heard  of  our 
presence  and  came  out  after  us.  We  went  in  and  heard  some 
of  the  discussions  and  tJiey  were  quite  interestii^.  The  fin- 
ancial  report  was  really  encour^ing.     It  showed  that  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CORRESPONDENCE  337 

people  were  paying  up  very  well.  It  was  hinted  that  somebody 
had  gone  to  pieces  on  his  temperance  plec^e,  but  no  name  was 
given. 

"In  reeponse  to  Brer  WiUiams'  invitation  I  spoke,  my  topic 
b^ng  the  Orphanage.  Th^  were  quite  cordial  and  generous. 
-  "After  the  meetjng  Bob  and  I  rode  by  John  Waddlington's 
and  spent  an  hour  or  two.  There  Bob  found  some  horse  shoes 
and  we  had  another  pitching  tilt.  Six  games  were  played  and 
once  more  Bob  was  crushed.  He  won  two  and  Idst  four.  His 
losses  for  the  day  were  ten  out  of  twelve.  I  yelled,  shouted 
and  hurrahed  over  the  victory  as  much  as  I  chose.  Bob  was 
interestingly  blue  over  the  result.  I  spent  the  night  with  him 
and  arrived  home  this  morning  by  the  Bon  Air  train. 

"Monday  morning.  Here  I  am  in  my  cosy  study  once  more. 
It  is  a  sort  of  Paradise  to  me.  Here  I  lock  the  world  out  and 
have  the  luxury  of  unruffled  repose.  Often  I  retreat  into  this 
hiding  place  feeling  that  my  soul  and  my  body  alike  need  its 
quiet  r^.  Not  that  I  can  afford  to  spend  many  of  my  moments 
here  in  idleness.  But  even  work  in  this  lovely  place  is  resUul 
to  me. 

"Miss  Minnie  S~—  is  at  present  with  us  as  a  guest  of 

Kate's.    She  is  really  a  superior  woman.    Tom  S was  her 

devoted  slave  all  day  yesterday.  She  takes  my  jokes  con- 
cerning him  quite  umiably.  I  have  named  him  "The  Suppliant". 
Of  course  she  affects  not  to  have  the  least  idea  as  to  what  I  am 
talking  about.  Yours.  W.  E.  H." 

Tom  proved  the  victor. 

"Richmond,  Va.,  October  20th,  1892. 

"Mt  Dkar  Eldbidob, — ^Tomorrow  there  is  to  be  a  maas- 
meeting  at  Dr.  Heme's  church.  .  .  My  address  will  be 
short  and  unpretentious  but  I  hope  to  put  some  sense  in  it. 

"Tuesday  afternoon,  Thomhill  and  myself  took  a  ride  to 
Bon  Air.  How  sacred  to  me  seem  the  very  roads,  trees,  streams 
of  old  Chesterfield.  Whenever  I  get  weary,  lonesome,  or  sick, 
my  thoughts  turn  tenderly  to  her  sacred  hills. 

"Friday  momii^.  I  now  write  all  my  letters  on  my  instru- 
ment. I  am  a  little  slow  but  I  enjoy  the  performance  with 
bojnsh  pride 

"Saturday  night.  I  worked  hard  this  morning  and  resolved 
to  take  my  overtaxed  brain  to  the  country.  I  picked  up  Dr. 
Whitfield,  rolled  him  in  the  bu^y  and  struck  for  the  sacred 
hills.  We  went  out  to  Branch'sdaurch  and  called  on'brother 
Bagby. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


338  HIS  NEW  BOY 

"Monday  morning.  Yesterday.  .  .  floods  of  Btrangera 
were  at  our  church  in  the  m(»7nDg.  The  crowd  was  rmlly 
inspiring.  .  .  At  night  my  crowd  was  magnificent.  The 
folkB  at  home  are  well  except  your  mother  wfao  has  a  cold. 
Edith  is  not  much  better,  but  her  energy  is  wxHiderfiri.  Nothing 
can  discourage  her.  %e  atudiee  with  extraordinary  petsever- 
ance.  Lizzie  marched  off  to  the  Institute  this  monuiig  wi^ 
your  traveling  c^  on.  She  presented  quite  a  jaunty  six  tmA 
had  a  bright  and  glowing  face.  I  thought  that  ^e  lo^ed 
unoonunonly  well.    One  had  a  young  medic^  beau  last  n^it." 

A  new  boy  was  dropped  into  his  life  at  this  time  in  a  carious 
and  memorable  way.  It  was  the  same  old  story  of  his  heart 
opening  towards  a  motherless  boy.  During  the  precedii^ 
Summer  he  had  met  a  little  orphan  lad  in  the  country  by  the 
name  of  Coleman  M ,  who  was  living  with  his  step- 
mother. A  short  while  before  this,  a  gentleman  and  his  wife, 
had  asked  Dr.  Hatcher  to  keep  on  the  lookout  for  a  boy  whom 
they  nught  adopt  and  educate.  "Colranan  is  the  boy"  gwd 
Dr.  Hatcher  to  himself  ;"he  ia  a  prcHni^ig  looking  lad  and  ought 
to  be  educated".  The  boy's  step-mother  agreed  to  the  ar~ 
rangement  and  it  was  decided  that  Col^nan  should  be  sent 
to  the  above  mentioned  gentleman  and  bis  wife.  In  a  few 
days,  however,  the  tidings  came  that  the  wife  had  died  and 
thus  the  home  was  closed  against  Coleman. 

This  put  another  puzsle  before  Dr.  Elatcher.  It  thrust 
upon  him  the  question  as  to  what  should  be  done  with  the 
little  Caroline  orphan.  "Somebody  must  be  found  who  will 
take  him"  he  said  to  himself,  but  no  one  appeared  on  the 
horizon.  "Jennie"  he  swd  to  his  wife  one  ni^ht  "suppose 
we  take  the  boy  into  our  home  and  educate  him  and  try  to  make 
a  man  of  him."  She  agreed  and  a  few  days  later  when  the 
train  from  the  North  stopped  at  the  Elba  station,  at  his  back 
gate,  one  momii^  Dr.  Hatcher  was  at  the  depot  to  meet 
Colon&n  with  his  earthly  belongings  in  his  UtUe  suit  ease, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  family,  who  were  on  tip  toe  of  ex- 
pectation to  see  the  new  boy,  were  greeting  him  around  the 
breakfast  table.    Later  that  day  my  father  wrote  me: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  NEW  BOY  339 

"I  cannot  remember  whether,  or  not,  I  wrote  you  in  regard 
to  a  boy  that  I  was  interested  in.  He  is  an  orphan  and  is  from 
the  county  of  Caroline.  After  trying  various  men  to  persuade 
them  to  take  him  I  concluded  to  assume  the  charge  of  him 
and  see  if  I  oould  give  him  an  education.  I  wrote  for  him  to 
come  down  and  he  arrived  this  monung  for  breakfaet.    He  is 

12  years  old  and  his  name  is  M .     I  have  made  an 

engagement  with  Miss  Jennie  Kudd  to  take  him  and  teach  him. 
8b^  is  very  kind  and  will  not  charge  him  any  tuition.  Brother 
Radd  with  his  usual  generosity  offers  to  board  him  for  the 
small  sum  of  $8  per  month.  I  will  take  him  up  there,  or  send 
him  in  a  few  days.  Most  likely  I  will  go  myself.  I  have  not  been 
up  there  ance  I  was  with  you  at  Skinquarter  in  the  meeting 
three  years  ago  and  am  rather  anxious  to  see  them.  I  have  in 
hand  some  money  which  I  feel  at  liberty  to  use  for  the  educa- 
cation  of  the  fellow.  How  much  I  hope  that  he  may  fulfill  my 
highest  expectations." 

Already  he  was  drawing  bright  pictures  of  the  boy's  future. 
Like  a  sculptor  he  was  dreaming  of  the  figure  which  he  hoped 
to  fafihioQ  out  of  the  rude  block  that  he  had  brought  from  the 
country  hills.  Already  he  could,  in  imagination,  see  Coleman 
going  through  school  and  College  in  preparation  for  a  noble 
manhood. 

"Jamee  Coleman  ,"  writes  my  mother,  "a  little 

orphan  boy  that  your  father  met  up  with  this  past  Summer, 
has  arrived  and  is  being  transmogrified  to  such  an  extent  (by 
means  of  certain  monies  given  your  father  for  such  boys)  that 
he  is  looking  quite  genteel  and  sprightly.  Your  father's  fond- 
ness and  great  love  for  boys  is  a  constant  wonder  to  me.  He 
is  never  so  happy  as  when  one  is  around  about  him.  Possibly 
<Hie  reason  why  Providence  took  away  from  him  his  two  baby 
boys  was  that  he  might  care  for  other  boys  who  have  no  parents 
worthy,  or  able  to  care  for  them.  Coleman  is  a  genteel,  bright 
lookinjg  fellow — shows  rather  good  training.  I  hope  the  money 
may  come  to  have  faim  trained  and  properly  educated."  . 

The  taking  of  this  boy  under  his  fatherly  wii^  was  no 
trifling  event  in  the  life  of  Dr.  Hatcher.  Wmie  he  did  not 
adopt  Coleman  as  his  own  son,  yet  he  took  him  into  his  heart, 
with  the  determination  to  do  his  very  best  for  him.    It  put 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


340  LETTER  TO  COLEMAN 

a  new  star  of  hope  in  his  own  sky  and  no  potter  ever  labored 
upon  his  shapdeas  clay  with  a  more  ardent  devotion  than  did 
Dr.  Hatcher  upon  the  tender  hid  that  Providence  Beemed  to 
have  placed  in  his  hands.  He  carried  Coleman  up  to  Miss 
J«mie  Rudd's  school  in  Chesterfield,  and  on  his  busy  Monday 
morning  after  Ms  return,  he  writes  him  the  following  tender, 
characteristic  letter : 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Nov.  7th,  1892. 

"Mr  Deak  Coi^HAN, — It  made  me  sad  to  leave  you  on 
Saturday.  As  I  took  my  parting  glance  at  you  through  the 
car  window,  I  asked  the  Lord  to  be  your  friend  and  to  shield 
you  from  every  danger  wid  evil.  Remember  that  I  will  pray 
for  you  every  day.    X  hope  you  will  often  pray  for  me. 

"I  expect  fine  reports  from  you  in  your  school.  I  know  that 
you  begin  behind  the  rest  and  I  will  not  expect  too  much  at 
the  start.  All  that  I  ask  is  that  you  be  a  studious  boy  and  do 
your  beat. 

"Do  not  be  afraid  to  trust  me.  I  wish  you  to  come  to  me 
as  to  a  father.  If  you  get  in  trouble  always  tell  me  about  it. 
If  you  feel  that  you  have  done  a  wrong  thing  I  would  not  have 
you  conceal  it  from  me  for  anything.  Be  free  to  tell  me  all 
of  your  boyish  trials.  If  you  want  anything,  be  free  to  come 
to  me  about  it.  I  may  not  always  give  you  what  you  ask 
for;  I  may  not  think  it  best  for  you,  or  I  may  not  feel  able  to 
give  it.     I  would  act,  in  the  case,  as  a  father  oi^t  to  act. 

"I  send  you,  by  express,  your  books.  I  also  send  some  mater- 
ial to  make  strips  for  your  trunk.  You  need  strapping  on  the 
top  of  the  trunk  to  keep  it  from  falling  backwar<&,  and  also 
stn^M  to  the  tray  to  enable  you  to  Uft  it  out.  Ask  Mr.  Rudd, 
or  Wortley,  to  fix  it  for  you. 

"I  send  you  a  Bible  with  the  other  books.  This  is  for  yoiur 
regular  use.  You  must  save  your  other  Bible  in  memory  of 
your  father.   In  a  short  time  I  will  send  you  a  Sunday  overcoat. 

"This  is  Monday  morning  and  I  am  very  busy.    Give  my 
love  to  the  boys.    Dont  forget  to  write  to  me. 
"Your  True  Friend, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

He  had  been  appointed  to  preach  the  sermon  before  the 
Southern  Baptist  Convention  in  May  and  the  text  upon  wluch 
he  preached  was  the  words  "Experience  worketh  hope".  He 
preached  upon  the  t«xt  first  to  hisVwn  pe(^le. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BETHEL'S  NEW  BUILDING  341 

"Your  father,"  writes  my  mother,  "has  gone  to  the  delectable 
pluns  of  Chesterfield, — he  said  'on  a  lark.'  Well,  he  needed 
a  change  and  t^ake  up.    I  reckon  the  rulroad  hands  all  know 


The  "lark"  included  a  visit  in  t^e  mterest  of  the  Bethel 
church,  of  which  his  friend  "Robert"  was  pastor.  He  urged 
them  not  to  repair,  but  to  rebuild,  and  he  had  some  pleasant 
little  tussles  with  the  committee  in  several  later  vimts.  He 
stud  to  his  friend,  Mr.  W.  W.  Baker,  one  of  the  prominent  mem- 
bers of  the  church,  and  one  of  his  much  loved  friraida;  "Baker; 
Bethel  is  going  to  have  a  new  church  and  you  can  be  captain 
of  the  train,  or  you  can  buck  and  get  run  over." 

On  the  next  Sunday  Mr.  Baker  gave  his  vote  for  the  new 
building  and  his  pledge  for  $750.  The  building  campaign 
was  begun  and  Mr.  Baker  says  that  one  day,  soon  after  that, 
white  the  workmoi  were  tearing  down  the  building  Dr.  Elatoher 
drove  up  on  the  church  groimds.  The  walls  were  down  almost 
to  the  ground,  and  Dr.  Hatcher  stood  up  in  his  buggy,  sur- 
veyed the  scene,  and,  with  a  happy  smile  directed  at  him  and 
the  others,  he  shouted,  "Bless  the  Lord;  Babylon  has  falleni" 
In  B  few  months  the  Bethel  saints  were  worshipping  in  th^r 
handsome,  new,  brick  structure. 

To  Coleman  he  writes  on  Dec.  6th,  "It  would  cut  me  ter- 
ribly to  find  that  you  did  not  get  your  lessons  well.  You  are 
to  be  my  bright  student  boy  in  the  days  to  come.  ...  I 
am  very  anxious  for  you  to  be  learning  to  speak  in  public.  .  . 
I  will  send  you  a  Httle  speech  which  I  wuit  you  to  have  ready 
by  the  time  I  come  up  to  see  you." 

He  writes  me: 

"Yesterday  was  not  a  big  day  with  me.  There  were 
some  jolts  and  pull-backs  in  my  work.  Hence  I  claim  the 
T^t  to  be  grum  and  moody  this  morning."  There  was  oo 
Boious  trouble  in  hia  church  but  as  there  is  no  houadiold  bo 
well  descipUned  that  jars  and  misunderstaiidings  never  occur 
BO  we  need  not  be  surprised  if  in  the  beet  tA  churches  human 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


i42  LETTER  TO  COLEMAN 

nature  should  aometimes  make  an  unseemly  exhibition  of 
herself.  My  mother  in  the  following  letter  hint«  at  those  aame 
"jolts  and  puU-backs." 

"Last  evening  your  father  and  I  attended  a  very  swell  "At 
Home"  given  by  Dr.  Kerr's  church  [Presbyterian],  or  rather 
by  the  young  men.  Your  father  was  invited  to  make  an 
address.  I  was  spedatly  glad  that  your  father  did  it  well. 
Things  have  been  going  rather  against  him  lately  and  he  had 
had  much  to  discourage  him.  But  he  ie  such  a  Roman  that 
he  can  mount  above  things  that  keep  others  down.  I  some- 
times thmk  that  he  is  not  appreciat«t  by  his  people.  He  so 
leads  them  on  to  attempt  great  thii^  that  he  foi^ets  to  in- 
gratiate himself  into  their  affections  as  other  paators  do.  His 
eye  is  fixed  on  others  E^d  the  future  good  of  the  cause  tuid  in 
doing  so  has  to  sacriSce  his  own  well  being  and  sometimes  his 
popularity.   He  is  off  today  to  Sussex  for  a  lecture  on  tomorrow." 


He  wrrtes  to  his  little  country  lad: 


"Richmond,  Va.,  Dec.  l«th,  18»2. 

"Mv  Dear  Coleman, — I  am  anxious  for  you  to  present  Mias 
Jennie  with  a  suitable  Christmas  present.  If  I  can,  I  will  send 
you  something  to  give  her.  Do  not  tell  her  about  it.  When  you 
give  it  to  her  I  want  you  to  write  her  a  nice  note,  wrap  it  up 
in  the  paper  with  the  present  and  hand  it  to  her.  In  the  note 
you  naust  thank  her  for  all  her  kindnesses  to  you.  Be  eure  not 
to  say  anything  to  anybody  about  the  present  imtil  you  bave 
given  it. 

"I  am  glad  to  tell  you  that  I  have  a  new  everyday  suit  for 
you.  These  I  will  send  you  before  very  loi^  and  also  the 
overshoes.  The  clothes  will  be  for  your  school  suit.  You  must 
keep  the  old  suit  to  wear  when  you  have  any  rough  work  to  do. 

"When  you  write  me,  next  please  answer  these  questions. 
Do  you  ever  clean  your  teeth  and  if  "so  how  often?  Do  you 
change  your  shirt  bodies  and  stockings  twice  a  week  as  I  told 
you  to  do?  How  often  do  you  wash  your  feet  and  neck? 
How  do  you  usually  spend  your  Sunday  afternoons?  Have 
you  ever  been  kept  in  after  school  and,  if  so,  how  often  and  for 
what  reason?  Do  you  ever  see  Mr.  Williams  [ihe  pastor]  and 
does  he  ever  talk  to  you?  Now  t^e  your  time  and  give  me 
a  good  answer  to  these  questions. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PASTORAL  COMPETITION  343 

"God  bleas  you  my  precious  boy.  I  do  not  want  you  to  think 
of  me  aa  asking  too  much  of  you.  That  I  &m  not  going  to  do.  But 
I  Ma  anxious  to  make  a  bright  boy  out  of  you  sad  of  course 
this  will  require  a  lot  of  hard  work  on  your  part.  But  I  will 
never  ^ve  you  more  than  you  can  do.  Think  of  me  ottea  and 
remember  that  I  often  pray  for  you. 

"Your  devoted  Friend, 

"W.   E.   Hatcher." 

I  mi^t  mention  at  this  point  that  he  dehvered  an  address 
before  the  North  Carolina  Baptist  State  Convention, — and 
yet  why  mention  this?  The  reader  must  understand — if 
indeed  he  has  not  long  ago  surmised  it — ^that  this  narrative 
does  not  seek  to  account  for  all  the  days  of  his  overflowing 
life.  In  fact  we  have  not  the  record  of  the  uncountable  meetings 
which  he  held,  the  addresses  and  lectures  which  he  delivered, 
the  sermons  which  he  preached,  the  churches  dedicated,  the 
dencHniaataonal  oonfereoces  and  ooaventions  attended,  ttie 
trips  taken  and  hie  other  manifold  labors.  It  is  only  a  very  few 
of  his  pubhc  services  that  are  chronicled  in  these  pa^ee, — 
chiefly  those  that  tend  to  reveal  what  manner  of  man  he  was. 

"I  get  no  news  from  Chesterfield"  he  writes.  "Hurry  up 
and  come  on  and  let  us  sweep  up  the  hallowed  heights  once 
more.  It  would  be  golden  days,  brought  back,  to  break  in 
upon  the  Lybargers  agun.  We  are  preparing  for  a  scanty 
Christmas.  The  fact  is  that  we  are  a  house  of  dyspeptics  and 
the  less  we  eat  the  better  for  our  interiors.  But,  at  a  venture, 
I  got  a  roaring  big  ham  this  afternoon." 

He  stated  that  there  were  many  new  Baptists  moving  mto 
ihs  city  who  ihked  to  be  coaxed  into  some  church  and  that  he 
bsted  tJie  oonpetition  betnwen  the  pastors  in  securing  these 
strangers,  uid  then  added  "It  is  not  heidthy.  But  of  course 
I  must  put  in  my  work  and  get  my  share  of  the  spoils."  | 

He  writes  again: 

"608  W.  Grace  St.,  is  somewhat  after  the  order  of  a  de- 
serted banquet  hall.  Four  girls  and  the  smouldering  remains  of 
n^self  ciHistitute  our  preeeat  actual  asseta. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


344  PEBSONAL  ITEMS 

"I  tliiiik  that  my  Qrippe  has  finally  relaxed  its  ^eebling 
hold  upon  me  and  I  feel  that  Richard  ia  himself  again,— -which 
being  interpreted  means  that  Brer  Hatcher  ia  very  much 
better." 

He  delivered,  at  this  lime,  a  memorial  address  on  Dr.  J,  L. 
Bmrows  at  the  First  Church  and,  among  other  things,  said, 
"More  than  once  I  said  to  Dr.  Burrows  that  I  would  never 
be  able  to  tell  him  how  much  I  loved  him,  but  that,  at  hia 
funeral,  I  would  tell  others." 

On  Jan  8tb,  he  writes  me;  "I  am  afraid  I  am  too  fond  of  frolick- 
ing and  that  I  may  lead  you  into  my  bad  habits.  You  must  not 
copy  my  weakest  points  but  look  out  for  the  better  ones, — 
provided  you  can  find  any  of  the  latter  sort. 

"We  had  nobody  at  home  to  dinner  with  us.  We  had  roast 
chickens  but  they  were  venerable  and  tough.  I  was  not  in 
festive  mood,  imd  did  not  lii^er  for  the  dessert." 

Again  he  writes:  "Tonight  we  had  stewed  rabbit,  light  rolls, 
batter  cakee  until  you  could  not  rest  and  several  oth^  things, 
fiung  in  for  filling  up.  We  had  quite  a  festive  time  at  the 
table.  Kate  is  "wrastling"  with  the  question  of  her  viat  to 
you.    I  am  leaving  her  to  her  own  cho(»ing  in  the  case. 

"LiU  is  studying  too  hard.  It  hurts  me  to  see  her  tug  so 
constantly  and  it  seems  to  make  her  rather  nervous  and  irri- 
table. But  I  think  she  will  make  a  mark  in  the  world  some 
of  these  d^.  EkUth  has  bem  unusually  bright  for  several 
weeks  but  I  do  not  think  she  is  quite  well  just  now.  I  have 
tried  to  ke^  her  from  school  this  terrible  weather  but  she 
inosts  on  going. 

"Today  is  the  first  that  Coleman  has  been  out,  since  he  was 
taken  with  chicken  pox.  He  has  spent  most  of  the  day  with 
me  at  the  study.  He  is  a  mmple  hearted,  trustful  creature 
and  clings  to  me  in  a  really  trustful  manner.  Tonight  Tom 
is  going  up  to  spend  the  night  with  him  and  I  b^erve  that  the 
children  are  fixing  for  a  saail  display  of  Charades.  I  have 
bought  a  small  supply  of  candy  and  ginger  anaps  for  the  oc- 
casion. 

"Monday.  It  is  now  nearly  4  P.  M.  After  an  interesting 
time  at  the  Conference  I  took  Bob  Winfree,  Pitt  and  Landrum 
and  also  my  Uttle  Coleman  to  lunch  at  Reuger's.  It  was  really 
a  captivating  experience.  I  think  the  dinner  was  good  and 
the  chat  was  entertaining  in  the  highest  d^ree.    ffom  that 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  HANCOCK  MEMORIAL  345 

place,  I  hurried  back  to  my  study  to  finish  this  letter.    The 
children  had  a  roaring  time  Friday  night  with  their  charades." 

In  this  letter  he  tells  of  another  service  which  he  was  seeking 
to  render  his  beloved  "Chesterfield".  It  was  the  erection  of  a 
monument,  by  the  Chesterfield  people,  in  honor  of  their  "be- 
loved phynciao",  that  he  was  seeking  tt>  promote,  and  in  such 
a  movement  they  delighted  to  co-operate.  Concemmg  the 
monument  he  writes: 

"Yesterday  (Thursday)  was  the  day  ^t  for  the  memorial 
services  in  honor  of  Dr.  Hancock.  We  had  a  royal  meeting. 
Thomhill  presided  and  Bob  and  I  made  speeches.  We  also 
organized  a  Memorial  Association  for  the  purpose  of  building 
a  monument  to  the  memory  of  the  'beloved  physician'.  We 
raised  nearly  two  hundred  dollars  on  the  ^wt  and  could  have 
gott^i  a  much  larger  sum  if  we  had  pressed  the  matter." 


D.qit.zea0vG6Ot^lc 


CHAPTER  XXVin 


PLAYING  QDOrra.        UNCLE  DAVID."     THE  TOOHG  VBOPtX.     SBBHON 

BEFORE  SOUTHERN  BAFTIBT  CONVENTION.       DEDICATION  OF 

THE  NEW  GRACE  STREET  CHURCH  BOILDIMG. 

HOODT  HEBTINafl. 

His  love  for  games,  as  he  grew  older,  did  not  abftte,  bat 
chained  from  Croquet  to  Quoits.  He  would  play  with  the 
Baptist  pastors  at  their  picnics  at  Forest  Hill  Park.  But  hia 
favorite  battle  field  was  the  front  lawn  at  his  friend  Robert 
Winfree's  in  Chesterfield.  Here  they  would  have  their  con- 
tests, into  which  he  threw  himself  with  boyish  enthuaasm.  In 
the  games  he  would  plan,  threaten,  shout,  study  his  own  mis- 
takes, keenly  watch  his  antagonist,  groan  over  his  defeats, 
and  make  the  welkin  ring  over  his  victories.  After  such  con- 
flicts he  and  Robert  would  come  into  the  house  all  aglow  with 
the  exhilarations  of  the  game  and  would  turn  with  eager  relish 
to  the  sermon  preparation  for  next  Sunday,  Oft-times  he  and 
Robert  would  discuss  the  text  from  which  he  expected  to 
preach.  Sometimes  he  would  give  his  entire  viat  to  the  social 
pleasures  and  recreations  and  return  to  Richmond  "made  over" 
physically  and  mentally.  On  the  20th,  he  writes,  r^ardiog 
one  of  diese  encounters  on  the  Quoits'  grounds. 

"Friday  I  skipped  away  (just  by  way  of  variety  you  know) 
to  the  snow-capped  heights  of  Midlothian.  It  was  a  secret 
bai^ain  between  the  incorrigible  Bob  and  myself  that  I  would 
come  and  when  I  dismoimted  from  the  one  o'clock  train  there 
he  was  in  his  bu^y  up  the  road  in  eager  wuting  for  me.  It 
took  his  fleet  nag  but  a  few  minutes  to  bring  us  to  his  door. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HELPING  OTHEES  347 

A  £re  glew«d  id  hii  gtate  and  the  ^rotwd  was  in  subtime  trim 
for  quoits.  You  may  be  sure  we  tussled  long  and  hard.  The 
train  left  me  on  Saturday  morning  and  we  had  a  full  pull  until 
tfaeaftemooBtrun..  BobisimpmTiBgbutheisnotyetqTnteable 
to  «op«  with  your  humUe  "f&niour".  At  the  end  we  bad  [Jayed 
twenty  five  .games  with  the  result, —  Bob  7,  and  I  18.  But 
he  was  well  up  in  other  respects.  He  got  346  in  all  and  I  got 
487.   It  was  a  great  reKef  to  me  and  did  me  much  good. 

"He  is  begging  me  to  ateet  him  at  Hallabon>  next  Iliursday 
and  go  to  Skinquarter  wiUi  him,  but  I  haidly  think  that  I  can 
go-" 

He  draws  two  pictures  of  his  efforts  to  help'Other  people. 
He  first  mentions  a  young  pastor,  about  whom  he  thus  writes: 

"He  has  a  big  trouble  on  hand  witE  the  boas  ^irit  in  his 
cliarch.  Landnim  and  myself  have  been  pilotii^  him  ova*  the 
eUaray  seas  and  actually  got  him  to  land,  bot  in  the  very 
raoraent  he  imt  ioot  on  the  sbove,  he  tumed  a  somer-aault 
and  tumbled  headk»g  again  into  the  billowy  de^  Jt  was  a 
reaJly  curious  and  distressng  miet«ke  and  I  will  tell  you  about 
it  when  we  meet.    He  will  have  to  resign." 

The  oHicT  was  the  case  of  a  gentleman  wbo  was  the  head  of 
one  of  the  educational  institutions  of  the  city,  in  whose  school 
had  occurred  a  commotion  that  threated  to  disrupt  the  school. 
The  gentleman  anxiously  sought  his  counsel  and  he  writes  me 
about  it,  saying  that  the  brother  was  imable  to  quiet  the  mad- 
dened students,  and  his  letter  thus  continues: 

"It  is  tiddish  buEdoess  and  he  is  in  danger  of  a  first  class 
stampede.  I  am  trying  to  help  him  guide  his  trembling  bark 
but  he  forgets  what  I  tell  him  and  has  to  come  back  again  to 
to  hear  it  over.  lie  has  an  honest,  but  not  a  judicial  mind. 
He  was  at  church  tonight  (Sunday)  and  gave  me  a  big  stting 
before  he  let  me  off.  Everybody  is  gone  and  I  am  toeing 
at  this  dry  and  pointless  letter.  As  I  asa  now  approaelui^;  tbe 
bottom  of  the  page  I  will  bid  you.  good  ni^^t  and  will  try  to  see 
you  in  the  momiug." 

His  attitude  towards  his  old  sexton,  David  Parsons,  showed 
his  ability  to  detect  worth  in  all  classes  of  people.  "Uaele 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


348  "UNCLE  DAVID" 

David"  bad  in  bim  some  fine  traits  and  Dr.  Hatch^  and  he 
■were  friends;  they  admired  each  otiier  and  as  for  David  he 
knew  well  his  place  and  would  bave  walked  many  a  weary  mile 
in  his  service  for  Dr.  Hatcher.  Ete  was  tall  and  dignified  and 
had  acted  as  butler  in  the  home  <^  Dr.  Jet^  for  many  yean. 
On  special  occamons  in  the  pastor's  home, — such  as  New  Years' 
Receptions  to  the  church,  or  "Breakfasts"  or  "Dinii^'  to 
preachers — uncle  David  would  be  mustered  into  so-vice 
and  would  be  in  his  element,  as  with  respectful  dignity,  he 
would  move  around  the  table. 

The  old  man  bad  one  mournful  fault,  his  indulgoice  in 
whiskey.  It  brought  him  sometimes  to  shameful  coU^wes, 
sorely  grieved  Dr.  Hatcher  and,  yet,  always  found  the  pastor 
on  his  dde  when  he  was  attacked  by  any  of  the  pu^liatic  mem- 
bers, who  wbiled  away  some  of  thdr  idle  moments  by  taking 
a  fling  at  the  sexton.  One  Wednesday  evening  Dr.  Hatcher 
reached  the  church  about  eighteen  minutes  before  the  tame 
for  the  prayer  meeting  service  and  found  the  church  shrouded 
in  darkness.  He  called  out  "David;  David!"  and  a.  sound  on 
the  front  b^ich  told  him,  in  a  flash,  that  the  old  sexton  was 
"down  agfun".  Most  unceremoniously  did  the  pastor  hustle 
the  old  man  out  of  the  dark  room  into  the  coal  room;  where  he 
rolled  himself  into  a  knot.  The  pastor  then  ht  the  lamps, 
distributed  the  hymn  books  and  had  everything  in  order  by 
the  time  the  people  began  to  assemble  for  the  meeting. 

In  a  day,  Or  so,  David  arrived  on  the  scene  and  the  erectness 
of  his  form,  the  elasticity  of  his  step  and  the  flash  in  his  eye 
showed  plfunly  that  he  had  taken  himself  through  a  reformatory 
course  and,  with  a  scorn  for  his  recent  wickedness,  had  started 
himself  upon  a  career  of  immaculate  behavior  for  the  rest  of 
his  days.  He  had  served  the  church  long  and  well.  He 
had  lost  his  wife  and  at  this  time  had  become  a  great  sufferer 
iram  an  absesa.  At  first,  the  church  was  sympathetic  towards 
him,  but  he  was  slow  in  recovering  and  the  church  building 
was  suffering  neglect  from  his  absence.    Dr.  Hatcher  writes: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  DINNER  PARTY  349 

"David,  our  venerable  sexton,  is  yet  lud  up  for  repurs  and,  I 
much  fear,  with  no  good  chance  of  being  up  soon.  His  substitutes 
are  not  efficient  and  give  us  considerable  trouble.  The  Com- 
mittee on  Premises  are  getting  restless  and  I  fear  that  they  will 
feel  it  necessary  to  get  another  mao.  It  would  be  the  removal 
of  a  way-mark  from  my  road  for  old  Dave  to  be  put  off.  It 
would  almost  be  like  a  notice  to  me  to  be  padding  my  traps." 

After  the  old  man's  death  he  paid  him  in  the  public  print,  a 
high  and  affectionate  tribute. 

"March,  25th,  1893, 

"Mt  Dear  Elomdok, — Tuesday  after  dark.  We  had  a  whop- 
ping big  dimier  at  our  house  today.  Hie  guests  were  many 
and  honorable.  Let  me  name  the  names  thereof,— (the  men 
all  ministers) — :  Bagby  of  Farmville,  Bagby  of  Suffolk,  Bur- 
rows of  Geor^a,  Barker  and  wife  of  Peteraburg,  Pritchsird  of 
North  Carolina,  Miss  Kate  P^e  of  Charlottesville,  ElUs  of 
your  town  [Baltimore]  and  our  own  domestic  gang,  which, 
when  put  together,  made  a  big  pile.  After  dinner  we  had  a 
deluge  of  callers,  among  them  Dr.  Woodfin  of  Hampton.  I 
forgot  to  name  the  name  of  Brer  Wharton  among  the  guests 
at  our  dinner.  ^ 

"By  noon  it  cleared  and  Dr.  Mlis  and  I  put  out  for  Manches- 
ter, where  we  had  a  hardly  contested  fight  on  the  Quoits  Field 
and  I  got  the  best  in  tlie  struggle  by  o^  one  game.  He  beat 
me  last  Saturday  and  so  we  are  now  equal. 

"The  Dispatch  of  today  announces  that  you  have  been  OfUled 
to  the  Rrst  church  at  Norfolk.  It  has  of  course  put  everybody 
to  talking  and  they  all  seem  to  imagine  that  I  can  tell  at  once 
what  you  will  do  in  the  case.  You  will  have  to  settle  that  for 
yourself.  I  think  that  the  feeling,  is  in  favor  of  your  going., 
I  hope  that  you  may  not  err  in  making  up  your  mind." 

One  of  the  most  interesting  cdghts  m  his  church  services 
on  Sunday  was  the  young  people.  They  were  present  m  throngs 
and  took  fa^py  part  in  the  exercises.  In  a  letter  to  me,  de»- 
Bcribing  Mb  "Sunday",  he  says  "Today  has  he&i  heaven  itself 
at  our  church.  .  .  There  must  have  been  mx  hundred  at 
the  Communion  season.  .  .  I  am  on  the  joyful  hills," 
To  this,  he  adds:  "I  have  never  had  my  boys  behave  quite 
BO  sweetly  as  they  do  now.    I  made  a  few  of  them  sing  a  piece 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


350         YOUNG  PEOPLE  AT  CHURCH 

at  the  service  tonight.  They  did  it  well  and  the  people  were 
much  interested."  The  hymns  for  each  service  were  printed 
oa  paper  iilipa  vrbich  were  distributed  by  ihe  boyS'  before  the 
exercises  begfm,  and  gathered  up  afteiwards.  His  larger  b<^ 
would  ta^  up  the  offerii^  at  the  ev«niag  sernoe  and,  in  many 
ways,  the  youths  of  his  coi^;regation  were  hnked  in  the  church 
programme.  The  boys  were  genecally  crowded  together  on  the 
front  benches,  in  the  "Amen  Comers"  and, — in  times  of  an 
overflow, — ^they  were  strung  along  the  edges  of  the  pulpit 
platform. 

"It  used  to  be  said  that  other  churches  decorated  titeir  pat- 
pita  with  flowers,"  he  writes  "but  that  I  made  bold  to  decorate 
mine  with  boys." 

It  was  a  happy  picture  thej  presented  with  tJieir  beaming 
faces.  It  put  everybody  in  a  bouyant  frame  to  see  the  boys  and 
it  gave  a  re^ity  and  spontaneity  to  the  service. 

"Our  choir  is  in  chaos  still"  he  writes  on  Nov,  6th  "B— 


P played  the  organ  yesterday  [at  the  Sunday  service! 

and  a  shivering  few  took  the  platform  to  steer  the  praises  of  the 
day.  I  marched  up  a  few  of  my  boys  and  made  them  sing  a 
couple  of  choral  pieces  which  went  quite  wdl." 

Referrii^  at  a  later  time,  to  the  maoner  in  which  tiie  young 
are  treated  in  many  churches  be  writes: 

"They  are  not  treated  as  worshippers.  They  are  often  pushed 
out  and  back  for  the  accommodation  of  the  older  people  until 
they  are  grouped  far  from  the  pulpit.  Sometimes  they  are 
absolutely  hueUed  out  of  the  house,  in  case  of  crowds,  as  if 
they  were  of  no  importance  and  had  no  rights  nor  duties  and 
as  if  it  was  the  royal  proof  of  gallantry  to  give  seats  to  late 
comity  women,  even  though  it  involved  the  making  heathen 
of  the  children. 

"They  are  given  no  rect^nitiixi,  have  no  plaoe  they  can 
call  their  own,  no  hymn  books  are  furnished  them,  nothing 
done  to  interest  them  in  the  worship  and  if  they,  for  the  lack 
of  something  else  to  do,  whisper,  or  prank,  or  scuffle  with  each 
other,  they  are  deaJt  with  as  offenders,  branded  as  outiaiwa 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHILDREN  A9  WORSHIPPERS        351 

and  thpefttfmed  irith  puDidumni  at  borne,  or  at  tbe  bar  of  the 
lanr  and  eren  at  the  bar  oi  God.  Oh,  Christian  nme  the  worst 
hesthen  on  the  eaii^  oould  not  treat  tbeir  children  with  BUHe 
barbacous  cruelty. 

"It  ia  etnongh  to  fill  as  with  aaguiah  to  think  of  the  unoomiled 
thousandB  of  our  boys,  and  our  girls  as  w^,  who  have  baan 
alienated  from  the  church  and  from  religion  fcnrever  by  tilts 
stem  and  unsyiopatbetiG  treatoieDt." 

His  Sunday  services,  were  joyous  and  inspirii^  and  one 
explanation  of  it  was  the  throng  of  children  that  crowded 
about  the  front. 

"But  ar«  children  capable  of  woirilip?"  was  a  questkai  tiiat 
was  once  asked  him  and  his  reply  was  as  foUows: 

"I  do  not  raise  the  issue  as  to  the  capadty  of  childreil  for 
worship.  Indeed  we  must  readily  admit  that  there  are  heights 
and  depths  of  worship  which  children  may  not  reach.  .  .  . 
Even  the  most  cultivated  and  experienced  of  worshippers 
are  often  oppressed  with  the  insufficiency  of  their  worship  and 
we  need  not  be  startled  if  the  young  stumble  and  blunder  when 
they  attempt  to  worship. 

"But  many  of  these  children  are  not  converted"  cries  the 
objector  "and  if  not  converted  how  can  they  engage  in  wor- 
ship?" 

In  reply  he  continues: 

"I  cannot  invade  tbe  domain  of  God's  secret  dealings  with 
souls.  That  is  out  of  sight  and  I  must  not  tug  at  the  curt^ 
to  peep  through.  .  .  It  looks  vulgar  and  impertinent  for 
men  to  be  bltistering  around  when  children  are  seeking  to_ 
wcn^p  to  ask  whether  they  herve  been  converted. 

"For  my  life  I  cannot  tell  wkether  the  children  that  thionged 
around  Jeeus  that  day  in  the  Temple  were  converted  or  not. 
That  question  was  not  stuted  by  Christ,  though  there  were 
some  feaxfiUly  sour  and  querulous  people  present,  who  were 
op«nly  suspicious  ot  the  children,  saw  only  disorder  in  their 
conduct  and,  besought  Jesus  that  he  would  call  up  the  noisy 
set,  box  thar  ears  and  force  them  to  shut  up  their  rattling 
little  thrrwte.  Indeed,  I  oamiot  dare  to  describe  the  measure 
of  ihe  light  whieh  these  children  had.  .  .  Th^  seemed 
to  have  only  one  sentence  to  say;  it  was  the  sum  total  of  thur 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


352  HIS  SERMON  BEFORE  THE  CONVENTION 

formula  of  worship.  They  leaped  and  ran  and  suited  about 
ttie  Lord  and  cried  with  all  the  power  of  their  litUe  voices, 
'Hoaanna  to  the  Son  of  David'.  .  .  It  is  enough  for  me  that 
Jesus  Christ  openly  and,  in  the  face  of  criticism,  accepted  the 
tribute  of  worship  which  the  httJe  children  brought  him  in  the 
temple,  and,  in  the  light  of  that  fact,  I  beheve  in,  and  feel  it 
my  solemn  and  glorious  privil^e  to  advocate,  on  all  occasions, 
our  duty  to  teach  the  children  to  join  heartily  in  the  worship 
of  Gfod." 

The  Convention  sermon,  which  he  was  to  preach  in  May,  put 
him  on  his  mettle,  and  it  would  be  impossible  to  tell  the  number 
of  hours  which  he  spent  during  these  weeks  on  ita  preparation. 
"It  be^ns  to  open  finely  b^ore  me"  he  writes.  "This  week  I  am 
gomg  to  take  it  into  the  brush  and  make  it  shine,  if  I  can.  I 
will  go  up  to  Bob's  and  spend  most  of  the  week,  coming  down 
for  my  Wednesday  night  prayer  meeting."    A^ain  be  writes: 

"I  have  written  my  sermon  this  week,  but  propose  to  write 
it  again  by  Wednesday  night  and  then  lip  out  Thursday  and 
get  it  in  my  noddle  by  Saturday.  Then  I  hope  to  have  ease  of 
mind.  It  is  not  good,  but  I  hope  the  added  blesang  of  the 
Lord  will  make  it  good." 

In  a  letter  telling  of  &  vidt  to  Bethlehem,  he  says: 

"I  went  to  get  the  folks  to  send  Williams  [the  pastor]  to  the 
Convention.  It  went  throi^h  with  a  httle  pushing.  He  will 
go.    There  were  not  many  present." 

After  telling  of  his  ups  and  downs  in  his  campa^  to  raise 
$12,000  for  finishing  his  church  building,  he  adds:  "but  I 
am  fo^ng  ahead  with  banners  prandng  in  the  z^hers.  .  .  . 
I  am  possessrog  my  soul  in  patience  and  not  falling  out  wil^ 
anybody." 

He  preached  his  sermon  at  the  Nashville  Convmtion.  The 
audience',  was  vast  and  conosted  of  representative  Bi^itist 
ministers  and'taym^i  from  all  the  states  of  Qxe  South  and,  for 
him,  it  was  a  mountain-top  experience.  "It  was,  we  judge, 
the  best  preaching  of  his  life"  says  the  Herald  "and  that  is 


jdovGoOt^lc 


HIS  FALL  VISITATION  353 

high  pnuae.  The  epiritiml  effect  was  remarkable.  .  ."  Hia 
text  waa,  "Experience  worketh  hope," 

The  sermon  b^an  with  the  words  "The  experience  of  the 
text  is  high  bom;  its  mother  is  f^th,  its  grandmother,  tribu- 
lation and  its  father,  the  God  of  heaven." 

Soon  after  his  return  to  Richmond,  he  writes  that  hie  people 
were  greatly  cheering  Mm  about  his  sermons.  He  says  "Even 
the  taciturn  and  critical  are  full  of  kind  words  for  me.  But  the 
scamps  look  as  if  it  torments  them  if  I  get  out  of  the  corporate 
limits  of  the  city.  Th^  catch  me  every  time  I  cross  the  James." 

My  mother  writes: 

"I  am  afnud  your  father's  reply  to  Dr. this  week 

will  provoke  censure.  I  wish  it  had  not  happened.  It  will 
teach  some  folks  they  had  better  keep  their  tongue.  No  one  can 
floor  him.  He  was  not  bom  for  Ijiat  sort  of  business.  Hia 
sword  of  repartee  is  trenchant  and  fatal.  He  is  now  preaching 
for  old  Mr.  Bagby — comes  home  tomorrow." 

He  heard  that  one  of  the  members  of  the  B church  had 

be^ed  everybody's  pardon  and  brouf^t  on  a  revival.  He 
writes  that  he  wanted  to  go  up  to  the  meetings,  saying.  .  . 
"The  devil  is  on  the  run  and  I  want  to  join  in  the  pursuit." 

After  a  busy  Sunuuer  he  took  up  his  Fall  and  Winter  work 
with  unusual  bouyancy  of  spirit.  After  writing  of  the  good 
understanding  which  he  and  his  fine  horse,  "Brace,"  had  with 
one  another  he  continues: 

"I  am  driving  my  visiting  cart  over  hill  and  dale.  My  people 
never  seon  so  innumerable  as  when  I  undertake  to  go  to  see 
them.  I  find  a  genuine  joy  in  going  around  among  them. 
(Here  is  the  funeral). 

"(Later).    I  had  a  tiresome  trip  to  the  fmieral.    It  was  at 

A B stock  farm  fuUy  a  mile  beyond  the 

Buildings.  .  .  The  audience  was  composed  nuunly  of 
horse  men  and  it  was  an  ill  smelling  gang.  But  I  was  glad  to 
speak  to  them. 

"A  matrimonial  i^clone  struck  Bichmond  last  week"  he 
writes.    ".    .    I  did  not  share  in  the  spoils  of  the  upheaval 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


354  BREAKING  THE  BUCKLE 

exc^t  to  the  eztait  of  nuuryiog  Misa  Annie  McDowell  at  the 
end  of  the  service. 

"Today,  (Sunday),  is  gloom  itself,  with  the  storm  and  rain. 
.  .  .  I  loaded  my  guns  for  the  Education  Board,  but  I  con- 
cluded to  hold  my  6re  on  that  until  we  have  fairer  ekiefl.  This 
required  me  to  rush  to  the  front  some  of  my  lighter  homtletical 
artillery.  I  &red  off  a  suddenly  made  sermon  on  seeidng  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  etc.  My  folks  went  quite  wild  over  it. 
They  a^ed  me  to  repeat  it." 

His  ability  to  preach  well  a  hastily  prepared  sermon  was  the 
reward  of  his  hard  practice  in  his  early  ministry. 

Coleman,  his  orphan  lad,  had  sent  him,  at  his  request,  a 
list  of  all  his  poesessims,  in  the  way  of  books,  clothes,  etc.. 
He  read  the  letter,  marking  in  it  all  the  mistakes  and,  at  the 
bottom,  wrote: 

"8  mistakes 
Be  careful  also  about 
your  Ci^iital  letters." 

He  stepped  across  the  line  into  1894,  little  suspecting  the 
bright  days  that  awwted  him.  My  mother  writes  on  Jan.  14th : 

"By  the  way,  your  father  broke  the  buckle  of  his  cravat  this 
[Sunday]  morning,  after  he  had  begun  his  services  and  he  had 
to  take  it  off  and  preach  without  it.  He  said  he  would  not 
attempt  to  fix  it — but  would  lay  it  aside  and  he  hoped  some  one 
would  invent  a  better  way  of  keeping  cravats  on  or  he  would 
have  to  leave  them  off  altogether, — or  something  to  that  effect. 
He  was,  as  usual,  equal  to  the  occadon.  A  titter  went  around 
his  congregation  and  he  continued  his  sermon." 

His  Sundf^  night  letters  describing  his  glorious  Sunday  ser- 
vices would  fill  a  book  in  themselves.  Week  by  week,  he  tells 
the  story  of  overflowing  congregations,  and  mouatun-top 
ei^teri^ices.    To  Coleman  he  writes  on  Jan.,  15th: 

"I  was  sorry  to  learn  that  you  were  expecting  an  invasion 
of  the  mumps.  That  is  the  poorest  sort  of  a  thing  for  any 
youth  to  have  and  I  wish  you  would  escape  it  or  rath^  I  wish 
that  you  had  had  the  miserable  thing  a  long  time  ^o.    Where 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  LONG  SERMON  355 

have  you  been  hiding  all  your  life  that  you  have  never  been 
picked  up  by  those  various  diseases.  You  have  not  had  your 
rights  not  even  in  the  way  of  having  diseases." 

When  Coleman's  report  came  it  was  mu'ked  "Golden  B^wrt" 
and  he  thus  writes: 

"  'A  Golden  Eeport',  you  say.  Well  done  my  noble  youth. 
That  sets  my  heart  to  dancing  with  pride  and  delight.  As 
for  my  little  'Scrag^e'  [one  of  his  names  for  Coleman]  I  will 
by  the  help  of  the  Lord,  look  after  Mm  and  ud  >^itn  to  becoAe 
a  boy  worth  talking  about.  I  wonder  if  he  will  not  try  to  do 
the  very  best  that  he  is  capable  of.  Somehow,  I  think  that  he 
wiU. 

"I  am  glad  that  you  took  Mrs.  Rudd  out  for  a  ride;  that  is 
right;  be  good  to  her.  She  is  lovely,  but  not  strong.  Do  every- 
thing you  can  to  Ughten  her  cares  and  smooth  her  path.  She 
will  love  you  and  God  will  bless  you  for  it, 

"Your  Same  Old  Friend, 

"W.  E.  Hatcher." 

He  writes  me  of  a  minister  who  spoke  for  him  on  Sunday 
morning  at  Grace  Street: 

"The  congregation  towered.    It  was  an  honor  to  the  dl^. 

preached  or  rather,  spoke  and  did  it  splendidly  well, 

except  (and  this  quite  a  ^gantic  exception)  he  spoke  for  a  full 
hour  and  a  quarter  added.  Say  what  you  will,  folks  are  averse 
to  long  services.  I  fear  that  it  told  on  the  collection.  I  hinted 
to  him  that  he  ought  not  to  pass  a  second  over  an  hour  and  to 
halt  inside  of  that,  but  he  had  the  stuff  and  oould  not  persuade 
himself  to  cut  any  of  it  out.  I  am  going  to  study  my  sermons 
more  cl(»ely  and  trim  them  down  to  30  minutes.  Ordinarily 
that  is  enough  and  what  goes  after  that  is  subtraction  and  not 
addition.  At  my  Boys  meetii^  I  had  76  present  and  duly 
labeled.    It  was  a  dght. 

"But  for  the  rainbow  promise  one  might  imagine  from  the 
look  of  the  heavens  this  morning  that  there  was  going  to  be 
another  Noachic  (is  that  the  spelling?)  flood.  But  goo-by. 
"Ever  True,         W.  E.  Hatcher." 

Two  events  loomed  on  his  path, — the  coming  of  the  great 
erangdiBt,  D.  L.  Moody  and  the  dedication  of  bis  completed 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


356  DR.  JOHN  A  BROADUS 

cbuTch  building.  For  many  mouths  he  and  bis  people  had  been 
worshipping  in  thar  Sunday  School  room,  but  after  a  severe, 
finftnrin.1  campugD  th^  magnificent  new  auditorium  was 
finished.  There  was  none  like  it  in  the  state.  He  now  stood  at 
what  was,  up  to  that  time,  Uie  highest  point  of  his  ministiy.  Dr. 
John  A.  Broadus  was  to  preach  the  dedication  sermon  and  all 
manu^  of  other  bright  features  were  to  form  a  part  of  the  de- 
dicatory services.  "We  are  trying  to  make  it  the  most  impressve 
occaa<Mi  that  Richmond  has  ever  witnessed"  he  wrote.  His 
love  of  t^roughness  and  of  the  artistic  made  him  build  up  a 
progrunme  for  the  dedication  that  was  attractive  in  every 
detiul.  He  not  only  tr^ed  certfun  ones  who  were  to  take 
spedal  part  but  tm  the  preceding  Sunday,  he  rehearsed  his 
entire  congr^ation  .  "You  ought  to  hear  them  chant  the 
Lord's  prayer,"  he  writes. 

"Dr.  Broadus  delighted  us  very  much",  writes  my  mother; 
"by  putting  in  hia  appearance  on  the  balmy  Saturday,  just 
before  dinner.  Dr.  Thomas  (W.  D.)  and  Harris  were  invit^ 
to  dine  with  him,  but  the  latter  had  company.  We  gave  a 
course  dinner  and  all  pronounced  it  a  success.  Dr.  Broadus  was 
at  his  best  and  the  small  talk  and  the  after-dinner  talk  was  most 
delightful — reminiscences  being  endulged  in  to  some  extent 
and  the  jocund  element  playing  its  appropriate  part,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  inevitable  pun.  Dr.  Broadus  said  he  told  his 
class  that  it  was  the  height  of  politeness  not  to  let  on  when  you 
heard  a  joke  tbe  second  time,  etc." 

At  the  table  that  day  Dr.  Broadus  spoke  of  one  of  the  Hatcher 
children  in  very  complimentary  terms,  referrii^  to  that  child 
as  bang  "gifted". 

"He  then  Siud  with  a  twinkle"  continues  my  mother  "  'of 
course  it  could  not  be  otherwise'.  Your  father  and  I  thanked 
him  and  he  looked  towards  me  and  facetiously  said  'Oh,  I 
meant  you  of  course.'  Your  father  was  equal  to  the  occaaon, 
as  he  always  is,  and  replied  appropriately." 

But  Sunday  was  the  day  of  days, — the  day  on  which  tili^ 
gathered  in  thor  beautiful  new  auditorium.   He  wiitee: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  DEDICATION  367 

"It  exceeded  our  highest  expectations  both  in  the  badness 
of  the  weather  and  the  wonderful  interest  shown  in  the  oc- 
casion.   The  ends  of  the  earth  were  on  band  and  everytiiing  . 
went  gloriously." 

In  writing  of  the  pnuses  of  their  building  he  says: 

"The es, s,  etc.,  etc.,  went  wild  except  when 

we  handed  the  hat  around.  They  were  a  little  shy  and  non- 
committal then,  though  we  did  pick  up  an  X  from . 

.But  this  is  inter  nos. 

"The  fact  is  that  my  study  is  a  gallery  of  beauty.  Tou 
never  saw  the  like  of  fine  things  in  one  poor  Bap^t  preacher's 
study.  Tel!  Wharton  (M.  B.)  that  I  have  been  praiang  his 
new  study  ever  mnce  I  saw  it  last  Summer.  But  now  I  would 
have  to  put  on  my  old  clothes  to  think  of  entering  his.  He 
must  come  up  and  see  it." 

In  the  meantime,  the  great  Moody  campugn  is  on.  A  large 
tabernacle  capable  of  seating  5,000  people  had  been  erected 
and  Dr.  Hatcher,  as  chairman  of  the  general  committee,  found 
his  days  and  nighta  crowded  with  duties.  He  regarded  Mr. 
Moody  as  a  mighty  man  of  God  and  accorded  him  high  and 
affectionate  admiration  and  from  the  glorious  celebrations  of 
the  dedication  day  he' plunged  into  the  evangelistic  campaigu. 

"Your  father  is  the  generaKssimo  of  the  Moody  meetings," 
writes  my  mother.  "That  will  ^ve  him  a  good  deal  more  work. 
He  does  not  seem  to  mind  it." 

"Moody  came  yesterday",  he  writ^  me.  "He  had  a  ripping 
crowd  and  a  freesing  hall  at  his  first  service  last  night.  I  did 
much  quarreUng  •mth  the  buil<fing  conunittee  for  not  having 
better  arrangements  for  heating  the  room.  But  they  could  not 
see  the  use  for  it  and  hence  these  icicles.  I  was  righteously 
out  of  humor  last  night,  with  a  leaning  to  the  side  of  mercy. 
Better  things  are  promised  tonight." 

On  Tuesday  the  telephone  rang.  It  was  Mr,  Moody.  "Can 
I  get  Grace  Street  Church  for  my  meetii^?"  be  asked.  The 
cold  spell  made  the  Tabernacle  uncomfortable;  the  request 
was  gpranted  and  m  the  new  and  beautiful  auditorium  the  mul- 
titudes gathered  for  two  days. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


358  THE!MOODy  MEETINGS 

"The  ctiairmaoahip  of  the  Moody  meeting",  he  writes, 
"imposes  an  endless  array  of  detai!  work  upon  me. 

"Of  course  Moody  owns  the  town.  It  would  hardly  be  an 
exaggeration  to  say  that  10,000  were  shut  out  of  the  tabernacle 
yesterday.    The  room  was  overrun  last  night  two  hours  before 

E reaching  time.  We  had  extra  meetings  at  several  churches, 
ut  the  floods  of  the  disappointed  rolled  away  and  got  nothing. 
You  know  that  we  had  trouble  with  the  tabernacle  on  account 
of  the  cold  snap.  Moody  asked  me  to  let  him  come  to  our 
church  until  the  weather  changed  and  we  had  him  for  five 
services.  The  folks  were  terribly  afrud  that  the  crowd  would 
ruin  things  in  the  new  house  and  the  tobacco  fiend  did  hurt  us  a 
little.  But  I  was  ejad  to  have  him  in  the  house.  He  was  de- 
hghted  with  it  and  said  that  it  was  wonderful  that  we  could 
build  such  a  house  for  S75,000.  I  did  not  tell  him  that  it  cost 
under  $70,000.    The  power  of  Moody's  work  is  growing. 

"We  had  only  morning  service  yesterday.  I  preached  to  an 
order  of  some  unrememberable  name.  There  were  about  200 
of  them.  I  8upp(»e  that  I  had  just  about  enough  to  have 
packed  my  floor  with  this  200." 

As  chairman  of  the  general  committee  he  had  many  pleasant 
experiences  with  Mr.  Moody.  Among  other  things  it  was  his 
part  to  select  the  different  ministers  who  should  at  each  service 
lead  in  prayer.    Mr.  Moody  said : 

"I  insist  on  one  pouit,  and  that  is  that  the  men  selected 
to  lead  in  prayer  must  have  voices  that  will  carry  to  the  verge 
of  the  building." 

At  one  of  the  evening  services  Dr.  Hatcher  stepped  down  to 
a  minister  and  asked  him  to  be  ready  to  offer  the  next  prayer. 
The  brother  said  he  would  do  so.  He  was  of  large  build  and 
looked  as  if  he  could  "roar  like  a  lion."  Dr.  Hatcher  whispered 
to  him: 

"It  is  not  easy  to  be  heard  in  this  tabernacle.  When  Mr. 
Moody  calls  for  the  prayer  you  must  go  at  once  upon  the  plat- 
form where  Mr.  Moody  is  and  have  strict  regard  to  the  dis- 
tinctness and  reach  of  your  articulation." 

"Oh,  it  will  be  easy  for  everybody  to  hear  me"  in»sted  the 
brother  (^  laige  bulk.     He  spoke  with  unconcerned  ail  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


NOT  LOUD  ENOUGH  359 

there  he  stood  waitmg  for  his  perfonnanee.    In  a  few  momenta 
Mr.  Moody  called  for  the  prayer. 

"My  brother  of  the  masave  chest,"  writes  Dr.  Hatcher, 
"firm  in  the  conviction  that  he  had  only  to  open  his  mouth  and 
&  good  part  of  the  earth  would  hear,  began  his  jietition  in  a 
subterranean  tone,  an  inarticulate  mumble,  and  Moody  squir- 
med and  shook  with  impatience.  At  last  he  could  hold  out 
no  longer  and  he  said  in  an  awfully  commanding  way,  "Pray 
louder  there,  will  you." 

"But  the  unimpaeaioned  petitioner  drawled  along,  never 
lifting  his  voice  and  plodding  to  a  very  slow  end.  After  the 
prayer  was  over  and  the  house  was  full  of  song,  with  his  eyes 
to  the  floor,  he  turned  reproachfully  and  said :  'What  on  earth 
did  you  select  that  man  for?'  I  said  to  him:  'Look  here,  Mr. 
Moody,  I  try  to  work  in  men  from  the  several  Denominations 
and,  in  some  cases,  I  have  to  take  my  chances  on  the  brethren; 
I  am  not  posted  as  to  their  vocal  ability.  As  for  that  man,  I 
measured  him  for  a  far  reacher,  but  I  sUpped  up'.  A  faint 
light  of  good  humor  flitted  across  his  face,  but  never  a  word  he 
said.  I  urged  Mr.  Moody  to  exercise  his  own  judgment  in  the 
choice  of  men  to  lead  in  prayer.  A  few  prominent  men  he 
knew,  some  by  name  and  ot^hers  by  appearance.  When  be 
wanted  one  of  the  latter  class  to  pray  he  would  turn  and  point 
at  him,  rather,  grotesquely,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  and  would  say, 
'You  pray'  and  if  he  knew  tie  men  he  would  csdl  them  by  name. 
There  was  one  charming  Methodist  preacher  always  present, 
very  attractive  and  evidently  most  pleamng  to  Mr.  Moody. 
It  was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tudor,  one  of  the  choicest  of  my  own 
friends.  But  Mr.  Moody  got  it  into  bis  bead  that  the  brother's 
name  was  Truder  and  he  was  very  fond  of  calling  on  him  to 
pray.  He  would  cry  it  out  with  great  emphasis: — 'Let  us 
all  join  with  Dr.  Truder  in  prayer.'  The  humor  of  it  actually 
turned  into  mischief  and  most  of|the  brethren,  when  they  came 
up  on  the  platform,  before  the  exercises  commenced,  took  pains 
to  pf^  their  compliments  to  'Brother  Truder'  and  before  the 
meeting  ended  'Brother  Truder'  was  a  part  of  the  makeup, 
the  happy  life  and  the  comradeship  of  the  platform.  Even  to 
this  day,  when  on  street  or  train,  I  have  the  happy  fortune  to 
meet  this  extremely  fine  brother,  I  hail  him  as  'Dr.  Truder' 
and  then  we  talk  of  Moody, — the  honest,  great  hearted  Moody, 
of  the  days  we  had  with  him  and  how  he  had  glorified  God  by 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


360  A  TILT  WITH  MR.  MOODY 

He  had  another  pleasant  tilt  with  Mr.  Moody  in  the  meetings. 
He  learned  that  each  night  hundreds  of  workingmen  were  tumed 
away  from  the  tabernacle.  B«ng  unable  to  get  to  the  meettngs 
at  an  eariy  hour  they  would  find,  upon  thar  arrival  each  even- 
ing, the  building  crowded  and  the  doors  shut.  He  (Dr.  Hatcher) 
greatly  demred  that  seats  be  reserved  for  this  clasa  of  mea. 
He  thus  writes: 

"Mr.  Moody  had  the  deadliest  antipathy  to  empty  seats. 
He  seemed  to  regard  them  as  one  class  of  enemies  that  he 
might  hate  with  all  possible  abhorrence.  In  some  way,  they 
suggested  to  him  a  lack  of  interest,  a  possible  failure,  or  a 
lack  of  progress.  So  pronounced  was  this  feeling  in  him  that  he 
opposed  every  suggestion  as  to  reserved  seats.  During  this 
meeting  the  crowds  were  so  vast  that  the  auditorium  would 
fill  a  full  hour  before  the  time  for  service,  and  fill  with  the 
idle  and  the  indulgent,  to  the  exclusion  of  thousands  of  men 
who  were  eager  to  hear  the  noble  evanglist.  To  me  the  ushers 
and  the  people  were  firing  ail  sorts  of  complaints  and  I  ap- 
pointed a  committee  of  two  of  our  most  eminent  minister, 
Dr.  W.  J.  Young,  Methodist,  and  Dr.  W.  W.  Landrum,  Bap- 
tist, to  see  Mr.  Moody  and  tell  him  the  situation.  They  came 
back  hopelessly  dilapidated.  They  said  Mr.  Moody  was  utterly 
opposed  to  it  and  that  things  would  have  to  go  on  as  they  were. 
Two  prominent  gentlemen,  Gen.  A.  L.  Phillips  and  Col.  Swine- 
ford,  had  charge  of  the  ushers  and  of  the  seatii^  of  the  coa- 
gregation  and  they  were  greatiy  disgruntled  by  Mr.  Moody's 
decision.  I  chanced  to  pass  them  while  driving  up  the  street 
and  they  said,  In  a  tone  of  good  natured  reproach,  that  some 
arrangement  ought  to  be  made  for  allowing  the  men  to  hear  Mr. 
Moody.  I  said,  rather  jocosely,  but  with  earnestness  at  the 
bottom,  that  if  I  had  the  right  kind  of  committee,  I  would 
have  the  men  in  the  house  that  night,  but  I  told  them  if  I  were 
to  give  them  an  order  and  Mr.  Moody  gave  them  one  cut  with 
his  eye  they  would  take  to  the  woods.  In  a  breath  they  said: 
'give  us  a  chance, — tell  us  what  to  do  and  you'll  get  it.' 

'Bope  off  1000  chairs  tonight  near  the  Mun  Street  door*, 
I  sajd  and  cracked  my  horse  and  was  gone. 

"That  night,  when  I  entered  the  tabernacle,  there — ^not  far 
from  the  pulpit  on  the  right — was  a  desert  in  the  midst  of  a 
crowded  population,  and  when  at  seven-thirty  Mr.  Moody  en- 
tered and  sat  down  by  me  he  saw  those  untenanted  chairs  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  TILT  WITH  MR.  MOODY  361 

hia  face  clouded  at  once.  He  turned  rather  fiercely  on  me  and 
said,  'What  does  that  mean?     I  am  opposed  to  reserved  seats.' 

"I  took  out  my  watch  and  looked  at  it.  It  lacked  twenty- 
seven  minutes  of  eight.  I  said :  'Mr.  Moody  you  befpu  preach- 
ing at  eight  o'clock  every  night  and  all  I  ask  is  that  you  will 
wait  until  five  minutes  before  eight.  The  streets  are  full  of 
people  and  this  house  is  full  of  women  and  if  within  this  time 
these  vacant  chairs  are  not  occupied  I  will  see  that  every  one 
is  filled  before  you  take  your  text'.  In  about  ten  minutee  the 
men  out  on  the  street  found  that  there  was  a  chance  and  it 
looked  like  an  army  charging  a  castle.  They  tumbled  in  eager, 
serious  and  with  evident  delight.  I  drew  my  watch,  opened  it 
and  held  it  before  Mr.  Moody.  He  uttered  not  a  word.  But 
that  unbroken  pack  of  men  right  there  before  him  kindled 
new  fires  in  his  soul  and  he  preached  like  a  man  risen  from  the 
dead. 

"That  night  in  making  the  announcements  for  the  next  day 
he  said:  'I  want  to  ask  the  ushers  to  reserve  one-half  of  this 
buildii^,  tomorrow  night,  for  men'.  Never  a  word  passed 
between  him  and  myself  in  regard  to  the  incident  and  I  con- 
fess that  his  new  manifestation  of  reasonableness  and  of  readi- 
ness to  adjust  himself  to  a  situation  added  one,  or  two,  ad- 
ditional cubits  to  his  stature,  in  my  estimation." 

He  rec^ved  a  letter  from  his  orphan  boy,  Colonan,  that 
gave  him  much  joy,  because  of  the  affectionate  appredafion 
which  it  breathed.  It  was  too  seldom  that  he  heard  words 
of  lovii^  gratitude  from  those  whom  he  helped  and  when  this 
boy  showed  such  gratitude  it  sounded  like  sweet  muac.  In 
the  midst  of  absorbing  engagements  he  wrote  a  fine  love  letter 
to  Coleman  in  reply. 

"My  Dear  Boy, — Here  is  your  letter.  It  reached  me  this 
morning.  It  is  not  as  carefully  written  as  I  would  Uke,  but  I 
can  overlook  this  as  you  were  to  have  two  examinations  on 
that  day. 

"But  there  was  something  in  the  letter  that  was  worth 
more  to  me  than  grammatical  accuracy.  What  do  you  sup- 
pose it  was?  It  was  the  cheerful  way  in  which  you  spoke 
of  your  vi^t  home  and  of  your  expressions  of  love  for  me  and 
your  desire  to  be  with  me.  That  came  home  to  my  heart.  .  . 
I  think  of  you  in  the  day  and  in  the  lught.    You  are  my  own 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


362  A  CHEERING  LETTER 

dariing  boy  and  nobody  on  earth  has  a  r^t  to  <me  Uttte 
filler  of  you  except  myself.  There  is  not  enoi^  money  in  tiie 
United  States  treaamy  to  buy  you  from  me.  You  may  be  as 
wicked  as  you  wilt  and  break  my  heart  by  your  ingratitude, 
but  I  will  stick  to  you.  If  I  can,  I  will  make  a  first  class  man  of 
you.  I  pray  for  you,  I  spend  my  money  cai  you.  I  correct 
you  if  you  go  astray,  but  whether  I  deny  you,  or  please  you, 
I  am  toiling  to  make  such  a  boy  as  God  wUl  bless  and  use  for 
his  honor. 

"I  am  much  comforted  by  every  proof  that  you  give  me 
<A  youT  love.  I  want  you  to  love  me  and  I  am  glad  every  time 
you  tell  me  that  you  do  love  me.  How  I  wish  I  had  you  right 
here  now.  How  I  would  say,  'Walk  right  here  and  give  me  a 
big,  big  hug*.  I  would  fairly  make  your  bones  crack.  When 
must  I  come  to  see  you? 

"Miss  Genie  wrote  me  that  she  did  not  feel  able  to  undertake 
to  get  up  an  entertainment  at  the  close  of  the  session  but  you 
can  say  to  her  that  if  she  would  like  for  you  boys  to  have  a  dia- 
logue at  the  time  I  would  drill  you  for  it.  Tell  her  I  would  do 
it  to  help  and  please  her  and  that  if  there  be  any  good  reason 
why  it  would  be  better  not  to  have  it  I  hope  she  will  not  hesi- 
tate to  say  HO.  It  would  be  some  trouble  to  me  to  do  so  but  I 
would  do  it  if  she  desired  it. 

"We  have  been  having  delightful  cakes  and  broiled  shad 
sinoe  you  left  and  I  have  longed  to  have  you  near  me  so  that 
I  could  give  you  a  good  portion.  Never  mind;  two  months 
and  I  will  have  you  near  sM  the  time.    Heaven  speed  the  day. 

"Above  all,  my  dear  Coleman,  be  honest  and  truthful.    Do 

nothing  that  you  would  be  ashamed  to  tell  me.    I  want  your 

face  to  heam  with  the  light  of  a  pure  heart.    Pray  oft«n  for 

God  to  be  your  helper.    Do  not  forget  the  Word  of  God. 

"Your  Loving  f^eud, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatoher." 

He  had  another  amuai^  experience  with  Mr.  Moody  which 
was  followed  by  a  delightful  sequel.  He  gave  Mr.  Moody  an 
imperious  invitation  one  day  sayii^: 

"Mr.  Moody,  in  these  meetings,  I  am  your  humble  servant, 
but  I  am  a  servant  with  a  favor  to  ask." 

"Say  on"  stud  the  evangelist. 

"I  want  you  to  take  breakfast  with  me  and  I  want  you  to  do 
so  whether  you  desire  to  do  so  or  not,"  said  Dr.  Hatcher.  Mr. 
Moody  rephed : 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  MOODY  BREAKFAST  363 

"I  want  to  come  and  I  will,  but  I  will  go  to  but  one  other 
place  except  your  house;  I  wiU  come  to  you  on  the  morning 
of  the  last  day  of  the  meeting  and  I  would  not  have  you  think 
that  it  will  be  a  strain  to  accept  your  kindness.  I  ask  ygu  not  to 
mention  the  engagement." 

He  then  goes  on  to  relate  how  during  the  course  of  the 
meetings  the  breakfast  idea  kept  bobbing  up  in  Mr.  Moody's 
illustrations. 

"One  of  Mr.  Moody's  favorite  figures  of  the  gospel,"  he 
writes  "was  that  of  a  feast  or  a  supper.  Four  different  times 
he  caught  me  up  for  an  illustration  and  always  began  by  saying: 
'Suppose  my  friend.  Dr.  Hatcher,  should  invite  me  to  his  house 
to  breakfast'  each  time  giving  a  different  turn  to  the  ending 
of  the  sentence.  The  frequency  of  his  supposition  caught  the 
crowd  towards  the  last,  and  particularly  the  preachers,  and 
brought  upon  me  quite  a  shower  of  facetious  bantering.  One 
friend  came  forward  and  said  that  truly  of  all  men  I  was  the 
most  inhospitable,  that  Mr.  Moody  evidently  hankered  after 
one  of  my  breakfasts  and  that  it  was  outright  cruel^  on  my 
part  not  to  take  the  hint." 

My  mother  writes  me  about  the  "Moody  Breakfast"; 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  was  that  you  were  not  at  the 
breakfast  this  morning.  It  was  surely  a  royal  one.  That  seemed 
to  be  the  verdict  of  those  present.  Dr.  Landrum  and  Tudor 
stopped  afterwards  to  get  the  Menu  for  their  wives  and  com- 
plimented it  very  extravagantly.  To  Orie  belonged  most  of 
the  credit.  She  has  such  a  systematic  and  orderly  way  of 
doing  things  that  she  seems  to  have  only  to  will  in  order  that 
things  may  move  under  her  bidding.  David  [the  sexton]  and 
John  did  their  part  finely  as  waiters.  Strawberries,  oysters 
and  chicken  were  among  the  good  things.  Governor  O'Ferrall 
came  up  promptly  at  eight  o'clock  in  his  carriage;  and  soon 
afterwards  Mr.  Moody  and  son  came.  Mr.  Thomhill,  Landrum, 
Tudor,  and  Puryear  were  here,  .  .  The  sroall  talk  abounded 
mostly  stories  of  course.  The  Governor  is  pleasant  and  fidl 
of  good  stories.  He  and  Mr.  Moody  vied  with  each  other  and 
thoroughly  enjoyed  each  other,  I  think.  The  only  set  back 
to  it  aU  was  that  you  and  Kate  were  not  present. 

"I  found  a  pretty  little  book,  'Gift  of  Love,'  lying  on  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


364  THE  MOODY  BREAKFAST 

table,  with  my  name  in  it,  from  Mr.  Moody,  It  was  bo  ddicate- 
ly  done.  I  certainly  appreciated  it.  It  waa  a  verse  of  scripture 
and  poetry  for  every  day  in  the  year." 

At  a  later  time  be  thus  referred  to  the  occasion: 

"I  invited  a  number  of  friends,  several  of  them,  famous 
for  good  cheer  and  social  grace.  Among  them  was  the  gov- 
ernor of  Virgpnia  and  another,  a  most  brilliant  writer  and 
scholar,  and  ail  of  them  congenial  by  reason  of  the  catholid^ 
of  th^r  tastes,  their  honor,  their  rich  intelligence,  and  th^r 
attractive  personalities,  i  have  not  seen  in  ail  of  my  days  a 
happier  comply. 

"The  governor  carried  a  yankee  bullet  hid  away  somewhere, 
where  it  neither  troubled  Mm,  nor  anybody  else,  and  was  an 
unmatched  story  teller.  My  literary  friend  was  a  philosopher 
and  bis  epigrams,  struck  off  spontaneously,  were  chai^^  trith 
liis  wit  and  brimming  with  good  humor.  The  hours  partook 
of  the  festive  joy  and  flew  joyously  away.  Mr.  Moody  was 
the  master  of  it  all.  He  told  hb  stories  in  amplest  fashion 
and  made  his  point  every  time  and  with  boundless  relish  he 
enjoyed  the  happy  comradeship  of  the  morning." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

1894—1896 

T.  H.  C.  A.  OOLLBXTTIOlf.       BAGSRNB88  TO  WIN.      CHRKTUN  UNION. 

BICHHOND  COLLBOE.      TOPICAL  N0TB8.      PURCHASE  OF 

HOKE  AT  FOBS  UNION.       CBICAQO  ADDBEBS. 

Within  a  few  weeks  be  is  called  upon  to  play  three  veiy 
different  rolesj  two  of  which  have  just  been  recited.  At  first 
he  waa  the  pastor,  greeting  his  great  church  as  they  gather  for 
the  first  time  in  th^  splendid  new  auditorium.  Next,  he 
stood  as  first  assistant  in  a  vast,  evangelistic  campiugn, 
at  the  head  of  varied  committees,  seekJi^  to  keep  the  track 
clear  and  the  machinery  in  good  running  order  for  Mr.  Moody 
to  do  bis  great  work.  And  now  no  sooner  do  the  Moody 
meetings  close  than  ws  see  him  standing  before  an  assembly 
of  the  chief  buonesa  men  of  Bichmond,  aa  well  as  the  leading 
pastors  of  the  different  denominations,  including  the  Jewish 
Rabbi  and  thme  of  no  Denominations,  seekii^  to  stimulate 
than  to  large  giving  in  behalf  of  the  Young  Men's  Christian 
Assodation  of  the  dty.  These  dtizens  had  been  summoned 
together  in  the  interest  of  the  Assodation  and  he  had  been 
aaked  to  present  the  appeal.  As  he  called  for  t^eir  subscrip- 
tions  he  said: 

"I  warn  you  against  putting  off  until  tomorrow  what  can 
be  done  today.  Tomorrow  is  alwajrs  a  day  of  backslidit^  in 
the  matter  of  subscriptions.  The  ministers  will  do  their  part. 
They  are  kept  low,  in  f^he  matter  of  funds,  but  they  are  good 
buainesB  men  nevertheless.  They  manage  to  support  first 
class  establishiaeats  on  fourth  class  salaries  and  never 
brake." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


366       THE  Y.  M.  C.  A.  COLLECTION 

"He  gave  1100  to  the  Y.  M.  C.  A."  writes  my  mother  "too 
much,  but  it  is  scattered  over  four  years."  His  gift  for  taking 
collections  must  have  cost  him  thousands  of  dollars  and  yet 
his  own  contributions  came  cheerfully  and  without  constraint. 

"I  had  quite  a  time  taking  the  collections  for  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
last  week"  he  writes  "and  I  rather  enjoyed  it.  There  were  two 
citizens'  meetings  for  that  purpose  and  I  took  the  two  pulls 
for  the  mcmey  both  times.  It  brought  me  before  lota  of  people, 
who  never  knew  me  before,  and  they  got  many  a  laugh  at  my 
little  salhes  of  humor.    It  made  me  friends. 

"I  am  wofully  fagged  out.  I  sapped  out  to  Bob's  Friday, 
but  I  waa  so  very  much  exhausted  that  the  relaxation  posi- 
tively  made  me  sick.    Still  I  had  a  charming  vlEDt." 

He  promised  to  lecture  at  his  Grace  Street  Church  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  at  the  College. 

"I  dread  it  too  much  to  qiealt  of"  he  writes.   "I  am  not  sure 
-  of  my  crowd  but  I  am  willing  to  be  slaughtered  to  show  that  I 
am  ot  an  obliging  turn  of  mind." 

His  next  letter  shows  one  of  his  signal  traits, — ^his  eagerness 
to  win.  He  attended  the  all-day  picnic  of  the  pastors  at  Forest 
Hill  Park  and  writes  about  his  contest  with  one  of  his  choice 

friends,  Dr.  L ,  who  was  also  one  of  the  Richmond 

pastors: 

"We  had  a  ripping  time  this  afternoon.  There  was  a  big 
turn-out  and  quoits  went  high.  Bob  and  X  won  the  champion- 
ship.   It  went  awfully  hard  with  L and  he  (ought  hard 

to  eecape  the  humiliation  of  his  defeat  but  we  ran  him  into  the 
very  ground." 

He  waa  driving;  Mr.  Slaughter  in  his  buggy  one  day  vhen.  he 
found  himaelf  in  the  atreet  with  several  conveyances  all  of 
which  seemed  anxious  to  drive  on  past  him.  He  whipped  up 
his  horse  and  sent  him  speeding  ahead  at  a  lively  clip. 

"Doctor"  s^d  Mr.  Slaughter  somewhat  facetiously  "you 
are  not  going  to  race  out  here  on  the  street  are  you?"  "I  tell 
you,  Shuighter"  he  replied,  as  he  kept  hiB  eye  on  hia  horse's 
pace  and  his  hand  on  his  wlup,  "It  is  a  part  of  my  nature  alwaya 
to  want  to  keep  ahead." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PR.  JOHN  A.  BROADUS  367 

He  writes  a^ain  on  April,  lat: 

"Richmond,  Va.,  April  Ist. 

"My  Db&b  Eldridge, — I  greet  you  agun.  How  are  you 
this  diamal  monuDg?  At  this  monent — ^nine  to  the  second — I 
venture  to  imagiue  that  your  head  is  wrapped  in  several 
blankets  and  that  you  are  atiU  in  the  land  of  troubled  dreuns. 
Not  BO  with  your  illustrious  father.  True  he  had  eight  ser- 
vices yesterday  and  did  not  touch  his  pillow  until  after  eleven 
last  night;  but  here  he  is  in  all  his  pristine  splendor,  so  to 
speak,  but  with  a  lot  unregulated  aches  and  ailments  floating 
through  his  body. 

"I  am  preparing  an  article  on  Dr.  Broadus  which  I  am  to 
read  (or  the  Preacher's  Confereoce  next  Monday  and  then  give 
it  to  the  Herald. 

"Yours  as  usual,  mistakes  and  all." 

In  this  article  on  Dr.  John  A.  Broadus,  he  s^d: 

"Great  men  deserve  to  be  well  treated  in  this  world,  for 
they  are  rare.  When  all  apparent  greatness  is  brushed  away 
and  only  the  actual  great  are  left  they  make  s  small  company." 

In  referrii^  to  Dr.  Broadus*  oration  at  Richmond  CoU^^, 
on  "Demosthenes"  he  s^d: 

"It  was  the  supreme  effort  of  a  giant.  .  .  He  threw  the 
light  of  all  ages  upon  the  Athenian  orator,  until  he  glowed  with 
a  majestic  light  and  the  enchanted  and  enraptured  audience 
hastened  away  to  buy  the  orations  of  the  peerless  Athenian 
and  to  find  when  they  attempted  to  read  them  that  they  were 
dulness  itself,  as  compared  with  Broadus.  Indeed  it  was 
Broadus,  and  not  Demosthenes,  that  they  went  out  to  look  for. 

"All  great  men  are  artists.  Many  glorify  Patrick  Henry 
as  the  'forest  bom'  orator  and  think  of  him  as  a  fountain  of 
rich  and  unstudied  eloquence.  Truly,  he  was  an  orator  and 
may  have  been  forest  bom,  but  he  was  an  expert  in  composition 
and  public  speech.  .  .  .  Art  without  genius  makes  the 
duUiml;  without  earnestness  makes  the  actor;  without  sin- 
cerity, nuikes  the  hypocrite;  when  allowed  to  play  the  mis- 
tress, genius  debases  it,  but,  when  made  its  slave,  will  lead  to 
greatness. 

"Broadus,  with  his  course  finished  and  his  crown  won,  is 
more  to  us  than  ever  he  was  in  the  days  of  his  fiesh.  He  will 
be  yet  more  to  us  when  we  see  him  again." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


368  THE  SIDE  WHISKERS 

In  June  be  writea:  "I  am  so  fat  in  these  latter  days  that  the 
heat  lias  s  lai^  mar^  to  work  on  and  it  does  its  business 
quite  faithfully."  At  the  close  of  one  of  his  hot  days  he  had  a 
visitor  of  whom  he  draws  the  following  sketch: 

"He  rang  the  bell  while  we  were  having  our  evening  glass 
of  cold  tea,  and  expressed  a  desire  to  look  upon  the  beauty  of 
our  countenance,  being  a  dear  friend  of  ours.  For  contort 
be  preferred  to  sit  on  the  porch  and  there  we  found  him.  He 
was  very  etyliah.  Indeed  we  were  sorry  that  we  had  not 
changed  our  collar  and  coat  to  meet  him.  He  gave  ua  a  great 
welcome,  so  to  speak,  and  spoke  with  a  swelling  abandon  of  the 
many  times  that  we  had  met,  although  we  could  not  recall  any 
of  our  former  meetings.  He  was  dressed  immensely,  and  what 
bore  us  to  the  earth  was  his  aide  whiskers.  There  is  a  majesty 
in  side  whiskers  that  gets  us  every  time.  It  gives  a  tone  and 
grandeur  to  a  man — ^we  mean  the  possesasion  of  side  whiskers, 
that  commands  our  universal  respect.  He  was  just  from  Boston, 
and  intended  going  to  his  home  today,  but  important  news 
required  him  t«  go  to  Kentucky  at  once.  He  had  money  to  get 
home,  but  not  enough  to  get  to  Kentucky.  He  had  called  on 
a  friend  in  the  city  who  would  have  shed  dew  drops  of  joy  to 
lend  him  all  the  money  he  could  dispose  of,  but  unluckily, 
the  said  friend  was  beyond  the  city  limits,  (as  we  wished  that 
moment  we  were),  and  so  he  had  to  presume  on  our  acquaintance 
to  request  a  favor.  That  was  a  solemn  moment  in  our  earthly 
career  and  we  shook  visibly.  The  side  whiskers  overawed  us, 
and  there  was  silence  for  some  time.  We  were  thinking  of  that 
mysterious  bourne  from  which  no  borrowed  money  returns, 
when  he  snapped  at  us  in  a  contemptuous  way,  which  moved 
our  angry  passions.  We  grew  stronger  and  refused.  We  were 
proud  of  our  courage  and  felt  heroic  when  the  side  whiskers 
stalked  loftily  and  scornfully  away,  and  we  were  free  once  more. 
No  man  with  Eude  whiskers  need  ask  charity  of  us." 

He  returned  to  Richmond,  in  September,  after  bis  vaca- 
tion travels  and  labors,  and  he  was  made  happy,  a  few  days 
later,  by  the  safe  return-  of  his  wife  and  his  daughter,  Orie 
from  their  European  trip.  A  Reception  at  the  church  was 
t^idered  his  wife.  Dr.  Landrum  made  an  address  to  her  on 
behalf  of  the  ladies  to  which  Dr.  Hatcher  responded. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


mS  WIFE'S  DEVOTED  CO-OPERATION  869 

"At  the  foot  of  the  table"  writes  my  mother  "waa  s  haad- 
some  white  cake  with  "J.  S.  H."  [Jennie  Snead  Hatcher)  on  it. 
Probably  it  was  the  happiest  occasion  since  the  enlver  wedding. 

"Your  father  asked  me  when  he  returned  home  if  I  felt  'duly 
inSated'.    I  told  him  I  thought  ao." 

His  -mte  ytaa  greatly  beloved  in  the  church.  She  always 
showed  keen  interest  in  the  general  work  of  the  church  and, 
although  carrying  the  burdens  of  a  laige  household,  yet  she 
found  time  to  participate  in  many  of  the  church  enterpriscB. 
In  addition  to  all  this  she  was  an  active  factor  in  the  denom- 
inational work  that  was  done  by  the  Baptist  women  of  the 
city  and  state. 

"Why  do  you  not  adopt  special  hours  for  visitors?"  some  one 
asked  him.  "I  cannot  do  that"  he  replied.  "My  study  door 
must  swing  open  to  any  who  desire  to  oome." 

"This"  writes  his  wife  'Sras  one  of  the  reasons  why  he 
hied  himself  away  into  the  country  so  frequently." 

"Your  father  braved  the  elements"  she  writes  on  Sept.  27th 
"and  went  to  the  study  (on  Thursday  night)  to  get  ready  for 
Stmday,  the  loafers  and  axe-grinders  having  robbed  him  of 
much  d  his  mornings  this  week.  It  does  seem  as  if  ministers 
ought  to  have  some  retreat  away  from  the  out-sidera  to  prepare 
iii&i  sermons.  Nobody  excuses  a  poor  sermon  even  when  tlie 
prOT)aration  has  to  be  made  under  cUfficulties. 

The  girls  and  Coleman  are  studying  in  the  dining  room. 
The  latter  has  begun  school  at  McGuire's." 

"Yesterday  was  a  roaring  day  at  Old  Grace  Street"  he  writes 
on  Oct.  16th  "The  crowds  were  prot^ous.  Of  course  the 
strangers  were  numerous.  Last  night  there  was  a  flood  of  them. 
The  silent  brethren  who  rarely  say  words  of  cheer  for  the 
preacher,  actually  got  noisy  yesterday  about  my  sermons. 
In  the  morning  my  theme  was  'The  Religious  Awakening  at 
Samaria,  and  at  night,  'The  T^embhng  King.'  " 

He  makes  his  usual  annual  round  of  visits  to  his  members. 
He  writes: 

"I  am  getting  up  into  the  fifth  hundred  of  my  members 
visiting,  ance  X  got  home  five  weeks  tonight.  How  is  that  for 
an  old  gent  of  my  style?" 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


870  CHRISTIAN  UNION 

He  urges  me  to  spend  earnest  work  on  addreeaes  which  I 
have  to  deliver  on  special  occaaons. 

"You  must  be^  quietly  and  carefully  to  amass  material 
for  such  work.  You  must  work  over  your  stuff  agfun  and  agun. 
My  lecture  on  the  Dance  consumed  weeks  of  my  time.  I 
spent  hours  on  sentences." 

On  Sunday,  November  12th,  he  made  a  deliverance  on  the 
v^ced  subject  of  "the  union  of  all  christian  Denoniinations." 
The  sermon  was  printed  in  full  in  the  Dispatch.  He  b^an  by 
saying  that  he  believed  that  if  all  christians  should  harm<Hi- 
iously  agree  and  cordially  unite  in  one  body  that  it  "would  be 
the  most  sublime  and  glorious  event  that  could  occur  on  the 
earth — ^next  to  the  advent  of  the  Son  of  God — and  would  do 
more  than  all  else  to  hasten  that  day."    And  then  he  adds: 

"If  I  could  find  any  one  thing  in  the  distinctive  doctrines 
of  the  Baptists,  wliich  stood  in  the  way  of  the  union  of  aH 
Christiana  on  a  Bible  basis  I  would  discard  it  instantly  and  I 
hope  that  the  Baptiate  will  stand  in  the  forefront  of  the  move- 
ment for  the  unification  of  the  Lord's  hosts  on  the  earth. 

"This  I  say  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  But  let  us  under- 
stand that  this  is  a  vast  and  far  reaching  question.  It  oomes  to 
us  with  the  entanglements  of  the  ages  upon  it.  It  has  to  fight 
the  prejudices  of  centuries.  Bigotry,  ecclesiastical  pride, 
political  infiuence,  social  intolerance  and  racial  hatred  are 
bound  hand  in  hand  against  this  movement.  "Aose  who  think 
that  it  will  be  easy  to  bring  about  christian  union  have  never 
looked  beneath  the  surface  of  the  question.  Those  who  em- 
bark upon  this  undertaking  have  need  to  pray  for  the  ffuth 
that  removes  mountains. 

"It  is  eaary  for  a  gushing  liberalist,  charged  with  sweet 
phrases  and  a  melting  manner,  to  whip  an  impulsive  crowd  into 
a  momentary  craze  for  union,  but  let  some  sharp-tongued  critio 
be^  to  assail  the  favorite  dogmas  of  those  who  are  present, 
and  the  foaming  tide  of  enthusiasm  will  fade  as  the  morning 
cloud." 

He  then  proceeds  to  mention  some  of  the  vtaa  plans  for 
bringii^  about  such  union. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHRISTIAN  UNION  371 

"One  plan  is  to  rub  out  all  denominational  lines  and  allow 
all  cbrietiaos  to  come  in  bringing  with  them  all  their  peculiar 
doctrines  and  their  methods  of  work.  That  would  be  'union 
without  unity'.  Another  scheme  is  for  us  to  get  all  chria- 
ti&n  people  to  gather  at  the  gate  of  Some  vast  camp,  unload 
all  of  their  distJnguiBhing  views,  and  agree  not  to  believe  any- 
thing that  any  one  else  cannot  believe  and  not  to  insist  on 
what  they  beheve. 

"Still  another  plan  is  to  rally  the  scattered  friends  of  God 
back  to  union  on  some  one  of  the  many  creeds  as  held  by  the 
sects." 

He  suggested  no  plan  for  brining  about  the  union,  "but" 
sud  he  "there  is  much  that  Christians  can  do  to  forward  the 
movement  for  union. 

"1.  Ws  should  strive  honestly  to  make  sectarianism  odious. 

"2.  We  must  cultivate  interdenominational  charity. 

"3.  We  must  labor  to  bring  the  christian  worid  to  under" 
stand  that  the  only  possible  basis  for  christian  union  is  the 
authority  of  the  Word  of  God." 

November  20th,  finds  him  at  Nashville,  Tenn.,  aidii^  Dr. 
Frost  in  meetings  at  the  First  Baptist  Church. 

"We  are  like  an  anny"  he  writes  from  Nashville  "lining  up 
for  battle,  throwing  out  our  heavy  skirmish  lines  and  seekii^ 
to  get  other  forces  brought  forward  and  put  in  position  before 
the  general  onset." 

Agun  be  writes: 

"llius  far  I  have  dealt  only  with  Christians.  It  is  a  fierce 
battle  which  we  are  fightii^" 

The  campugn,  however,  was  crowned  with  victory.  He 
writes: 

"In  many  respects  the  meeting  has  been  equal  to  the  best  I 
have  ever  seen.  ,  .  I  think  that  a  new  era  is  dawnii^  for 
the  church." 

He  was  subjected  to  a  trying  expeneaix  at  this  time.    An 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


372  RICHMOND  COLLEGE 

election  was  to  take  place  at  Eichmoad  College,  of  whose 
Board  of  Trustees,  be  was  a  member.  Tbere  was  a  lining  up 
of  the  friends  of  tbe  candidate  and  of  tbose  opposed  to  bim 
and  among  tbe  latter  were  some  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  prominent 
cburcb  members.  The  lines  were  closely  drawn  and  the 
agitation  was  very  intense.  As  both  pastor  and  Trustee,  he 
found  himself  in  a  peculiarly  delicate  and  puzzling  position, 
and  while  his  desire  for  the  candidate's  election  was  strong,  yet 
he  determined  to  take  no  active  part  in  tbe  contest.  But  it  was 
known  that  be  had  been  for  several  years  a  very  helpful  friend 
of  tbe  candidate  and  it  was  concluded  that  he  had  championed 
his  Cause. 

"It  has  gone  out"  he  writes  "that  1  was  the  leadii^  spirit 
in  the  movement  and  quite  a  number  are  mad  with  me.  But  I 
have  a  motto  which  comforts  me  often:  'He  that  believetb 
shall  not  make  haste'.  I  will  keep  silent  and  let  tbe  heathen 
r^e  for  a  season  and  then  I  will  tell  the  facts.  But  I  have 
no  thought  of  running  around  to  explain  my  action  in  the  case. 
I  regret  that  several.  .  .  have  gone  wild  over  the  thing 
and  the  worst  in  the  lot  is.  .  .  It  distresses  me  deeply. 
But  keep  still  and  wEut.     Things  will  come  out  all  right." 

The  above  text  "He  that  believetb  shall  not  make  baste" 
was  one  of  his  guidii^;  stars.  Many  were  tbe  times  he  quoted 
it,  as  being  one  of  his  life  mottoes.  In  the  times  of  stnun,  or 
opposition,  when  tempted  to  act  impulsively,  be  would  cool 
bis  brow  with  the  above  words  and  go  peacefully  about  bia 
work. 

He  threw  open  his  home  on  January  Ist,  for  a  New  Year's 
Bec^tion  to  his  church  members  and  friends.    He  writes: 

"My  New  Year's  Eec^tion  threatens  to  take  the  town.  It 
is  to  cast  all  others  in  the  thickening  shadows  of  oblivion.  It 
is  to  bring  all  folks  together  as  far  as  possible.  It  will  pull  tbe 
sacred  dust  out  of  'Brer  Hatcher's'  vest  pocket,  but  never 
mind  about  that." 

He  began  at  this  time  a  work  which  he  continued  until  the 
end  of  his  life, — that  of  writing  tbe  "Topical  Noted"  for  "Tlie 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SUNDAY  SCHOOL  "LESSONS"  373 

Baptist  Teacher",  which  was  read  each  week  by  nearly  all  the 
Baptist  Sunday  School  teachers  in  the  South.  There  were 
three  istereatii^  facts  connected  with  his  writing  these  "Les- 
sons." In  the  first  place,  the  only  Bible  helps  he  ever  used  in  his 
writings  was  a  little  red  book  which  he  carried  often  in  his 
pocket — called  "Pell's  Notes" — containing  the  Scripture  for 
each  Sunday  with  a  few  brief  notes.  In  the  second  place,  he  al- 
ways had  his  "Lessons"  at  the  Nashville  office  before  the  ap- 
pointed date.  Dr.  VanNeas,  editor  of  the  Teacher,  said  that 
while  he  had  many  bothers  with  other  writers,  yet  Dr.  Hatcher 
was  his  delight,  in  that  he  never  disappointed,  nor  delayed,  him 
in  the  matter  of  his  "Notes". 

This  was  remarkable,  in  view  of  the  irregular  life  which  he 
lived.  On  trains,  in  depots,  ui  homes  of  others, — ^in  all  manner 
of  places — ^was  this  writing  done,  and  yet  the  "Lessons"  never 
jumped  the  track  nor  missed  their  schedule  time. 

In  the  third  place,  in  writing  these  notes,  he  would  never 
correct  them  after  the  first  writing.  Many  were  the  times  when 
he  would  call  out  to  some  member  of  the  family: 

" ,  I  want  you  to  help  me  on  my  lessons"  which 

meant  that  that  person  would  write  them  out  for  him  at  his  dic- 
tation. He  would  always  ask  the  amanuensis  to  read  them  over 
after  writing  them, — ^in  order  to  note  any  clerical  errors  that 
may  have  occured;  but  the  sentences  that  he  had  first  called 
out  always  stood.  So  wonderfully  had  he,  in  his  early  ministry, 
gathered  a  choice  vocabularly  and  brought  his  mental  forces 
under  control  that  now  he  was  reaping  the  reward  and  in  his 
composition  his  first  word  was  generally  his  best  word.  In 
this  way  his  preparation  of  his  lessons  consumed  the  minimimi 
of  his  time,  and  he  was  enabled  throi^  the  remtuning  years  of 
a  life  that  was  crowded  with  uncountable  tasks  to  have  his 
matter  for  the  Sunday  School  Board  on  their  desk,  each  month, 
waiting  for  the  stroke  of  the  clock.  The  writing  of  these 
Lessons  gave  him  keen  pleasure  in  the  grateful  words  that  were 
evesr  reachii^  him  from  his  readers  all  over  the  South.  These 
grateful  words  would  come  to  him  in  his  letters,  in  greetings 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


374    SOME  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  "NOTES" 

on  the  train,  at  Conveotaons  and  in  bia  vimts  to  Churcliee.  Eto 
alao  drew  rich  comfort  from  the  Bible  study  which  he  was 
compelled  to  do  in  connection  with  hie  writing  of  the  Lessons. 
A  few  paragr^ha  from  his  "Notes"  are  here  quoted.  They 
are  taken  from  some  "Teachers"  that  happen  to  be  near  at 
hand.  If  all  his  "Notes"  should  be  published  they  would  nuke 
a  large  volume. 

"The  true  fame  of  the  preacher  is  to  be  known  more  by  the 
place  he  has  in  the  heart,  than  in  the  ^e,  of  the  public." 

"A  COMPACT  AUDIENCE.  It  U  hard  to  atir  a  scattered 
audience." 

"THE  PASTOR.  He  who  can  put  hia  members  to  work  in 
the  Master's  service  is  the  best  doctor  that  many  of  them  could 
have," 

"THE  DEAD  LINE.  There  is  no  dead  line  for  those  who 
bum  with  the  deeire  to  work  till  Jesus  comes." 

"There  is  hope  for  a  man  who  is  fond  of  those  who  are  candid 
enough  to  tell  him  of  his  errors  and  faults." 

"The  Lord  never  takes  bis  servants  at  thar  worst." 
-    "JONAH  AND  THE  GOSPEL.    There  is  abnost  enough 
gospel  in  Jonah  and  his  Book  to  save  the  worid." 

"If  a  man  will  pull  his  house  down  on  himself  and  be  buried 
in  the  ruins,  let  him,  at  least,  have  pity  enough  to  let  hia 
children  have  a  chance  to  get  out." 

"Daniel  kept  open  house  for  the  Lord,  openii^  his  windows 
towards  Jerusalem." 

"MERCY'S  SWEET  WAY.  Mercy  comes  not  as  the  storm, 
but  comes  with  silent  feet,  and  comes  to  heal  and  bind  up  brokw 
hearts;  its  touch  is  as  soft  as  the  evening  light;  its  ointment  is 
fragrant  and  refreshing;  it  has  no  ruffled  brow,  no  impatient 
word;  no  rebukes  for  the  past,  no  threats  for  the  future." 

Hia  burdens,  at  this  time,  were  grievously  heavy,  but  he 
kept  steadfastly  to  his  work.  On  his  twentieth  Anniveisary  his 
church  insisted  upon  making  the  morning  service  an  occason 
for  doing  him  honor  and  Prof.  Harris  and  others  spoke  words 
of  praise,  and  on  the  next  night  the  auditorium  was  thronged  at 
a  reception  given  the  pastor  and  his  wife  by  the  church  members 
and  the  Richmond  friends.  Dr.  Landrum  preaded  and  the 
various  pastors  spdte. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


KATE'S  MAEHIAGE  376 

He  indulged  in  a  commercial  tranBacti(Hi  at  this  time  that 
was  destined  to  open  a  new  and  lai^  chapter  in  hia  life.  He 
purchased  a  small  tract  of  land  at  Fork  Union,  Va.,  upcm  which 
to  erect  a  Summer  home.  He  expected  that  this  home  would, 
among  other  things,  answer  the  question  that  lifted  its  head 
every  year  in  the  family  circle,  viz.,  "Where  shall  we  go  this 
Summer?" 

He  gave  a  young  preacher  a  word  of  counsel  at  this  time  that 
showed  one  of  his  tnuts  of  leadership.  The  young  man  wanted 
his  church  to  make  extended  improvements  on  their  newly 
purchased  building.  He  wrote  the  young  minister  that  he 
had  better  not  force  the  entire  issue  at  once,  "If  you  can  get 
your  folks  to  start  in  on  the  thing"  he  writes  "th^r  interest 
will  grow  and  you  can  lead  them  by  d^ip%es.  But  your  demand 
for  all  at  once  will  scare  them  and  combine  the  timid  and  con- 
servative against  you.  Talk  to  them  about  the  things  that 
must  necesaaiily  be  done.  Let  them  get  the  fever  of  improve- 
ment in  their  blood  and  other  things  can  be  worked  up  by 
taking  them  one  at  a  time.  A  flank  movement  is  far  better 
than  a  front  attack." 

"I  had  my  preachers'  Supper  last  night"  he  writes  to  Eliza- 
beth "Willin^am,  MuUins,  Wright  and  Nelson,  with  their 
mves,  constituted  the  party,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boatwright  not 
hang  able  to  come.  The  supper  was  quite  elegant  and  the 
evening  went  off  like  a  golden  charm. 

"Aa  Ever  Your  Old  Stick  of  a  Papa, 

"W.  E.  H." 

His  daughter  Kate  was  married  on  June  15th,  to  Prof.  C  L. 
DeMott  and  he  took  great  interest  in  arranging  the  wedding 
programme  which  was  a  angularly  beautiful  one.  The  cere- 
mony was  performed  by  him  in  the  church. 

He  could  crowd  into  short  space  much  valuable  advice.  To 
a  minister,  in  another  city,  he  suggests  a  plan  for  raisii^  the 
money  for  a  new  building: 

"Strike, — say  for  $10,000,  Let  no  man  tell  how  much  he  is 
goii^  to  pve  (»cept  to  yon  and  the  committee),  imtil  you 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


378  CHICAGO  ADDRESS 

have  a  roaring  mase  meeting  to  take  the  subscriptions.  That 
meeting  ought  to  be  the  biggest  thing  you  ever  heard  of  and, 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  you  must  sweep  the  deck  and  get 
the  bottom  dollar." 

Regarding  Iiis  Sunday  work  of  January  26th,  he  writes; 
"My  sennon  in  the  morning  went  off  well,  but  at  night  I  wept 
over  Jerusalem  in  a  manner  which  was  enough  to  disgust  the 
Jews."  On  the  following  Sunday  afternoon  he  writes:  "I 
have  an  unpronoimceable  Armenian  to  preach  for  me  tonight." 

He  went  by  invitation,  to  Chicago,  to  address  the  Baptist 
Social  Union  of  that  city,  and  on  his  way  he  dropped  me  a  line 
from  Cincinnstti  saying:  "Here  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  slaughter 
house — only  I  will  have  to  open  my  mouth  before  the  shearers." 
His  Chicago  audience  included  the  pick  and  crefun  of  the 
Baptist  ministry  and  Iwty  of  that  city,  with  a  goodly  number 
of  representatives  from  the  University  of  Chicago.  As  he 
arose  to  deliver  his  address  there  was  a  hearty  clapping  of 
hands. 

"You  do  well"  he  began  "to  prefix  yoiu*  applause  to  the 
impending  address.  You  show  your  courtesy  and  dispose 
of  a  responability.  You  are  like  the  farmer  who  prepaid  his 
annual  debt  to  heaven  by  saying  grace  when  he  killed  hogs. 
Let  fate  do  its  worse  with  my  performance  tonight,  you  are 
safe  and  I  am  not  in  despair,  for,  when  I  get  home,  I  can,  at 
least,  comfort  my  few  surviving  friends  by  declarii^  that  my 
address  was  received  mth  great  manual  dexterity." 

His  subject  was  "Charity"  and  was  a  plea  for  optimism  in 
dealing  with  himian  character.  He  did  not  sound  the  dol^ul 
note,  "Alas,  the  rarity  of  christian  charity  under  the  sun." 
And  yet  he  made  it  plain  that  charity  deserves  a  much  higher 
place  in  the  ranks  of  Christian  virtues.    He  said : 

"If  the  family  of  Adam — -that  is,  of  course,  if  we  can  be 
charitable  enough  to -believe  that  the  old  gentleman  had  a 
family — (laughter)  would  hit  the  mark  every  fire  and  keep 
out  of  mischief,  charity  would  have  to  close  doors." 

Speaking  of  certain  pugilistic  Bi^tista  be  said: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHICAGO  ADDRESS  377 

"They  would  rather  track  a  heretic  into  the  wilderness  tlum 
to  bring  a  prodigal  home;  they  would  fire  a  Bodl^an  library 
to  rid  the  world  of  a  bad  book." 

"It  is  the  province  of  charity"  said  he,  "to  run  a  Ene  through 
every  character  and  put  the  agreeable  and  the  good  on  one 
.  side,  and  the  objectionable  on  ^e  other.  After  this  divi»on, 
charity  takes  the  weak  and  offensive,  wraps  it  in  its  own  mantle 
and  hides  it.  With  the  evil  thus  disposed  of  charity  bids  us 
lay  hold  of  what  is  left  and  enter  into  relations  with  that." 

In  these  words  he  unconsciously  was  stating  one  of  his  own 
guiding  principles.  That  which  made  him  so  entertaining  to 
men — Dr.  W.  W.  Landrum  said  he  considered  him  the  most 
entertaining  man  in  the  Baptist  ministry  of  his  day — was 
because  people,  as  a  rule,  were  so  entertainii^  to  him.  His 
eye  burrowed  down  into  an  individual  natil  it  rested  upon  what 
was  human, — yea  upon  what  was  noble  in  the  individual,  and 
he  conducted  his  negotiations  with  that  noble  part. 

"This  is  the  only  way"  said  he,  "that  some  men  get  along 
with  their  wives, — by  making  an  allowance  and  some  wives 
insist  on  very  heavy  and  frequent  allowances  and  this  is  cer- 
tainly the  only  way  in  which  wives  can  make  the  trip  vnih 
tbeir  husbands.  They  have  to  divide  up  their  husbands  and 
after  lockiag  up  the  mean  and  intolerable  portions  of  them 
seek  to  keep  house  with  what  is  left, — ^the  difficulty  being  in 
many  cases  that  when  they  have  stored  away  all  the  meanness 
of  their  husbands  there  ia  nothing  left  and  they  are  practically 
Idt  widows." 

No  one  beheved  more  firmly  in  the  time  honored  doctrine 
of  the  Bible's  inspiration  than  did  he  and  yet  he  did  not  believe 
in  TnAlfing  a  bon-fire  of  the  heretics.  His  address  therefore  was 
partly  a  plea  for  the  higher  critic. 

"I  was  lately  on  a  trun"  said  he  "which  stopped  bodily 
out  in  an  open  field.  I  got  out  and  strolled  up  to  the  engine 
to  see  what  I  could  see.  I  found  a  wonderiully  greasy  old 
fellow  under  the  engine,  creeping  around  and  cracking  the 
engine  here  and  there  with  a  truly  malicious  hanmier.  I 
asked  the  fireman  to  stop  the  man  lest  he  should  break  the 
engine,  telling  him  that  I  had  engaged  it  to  take  me  up  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


378  CHICAGO  ADDRESS 

country.  He  consoled  me  by  ezpluning  that  he  was  merely 
trying  the  engine  to  Bee  if  it  was  all  ri^t.  He  said  if  it  was 
out  of  order,  it  would  be  well  for  me  to  know  it,  and  if  it  was 
all  right,  it  would  not  hurt  me  to  know  it.  I  went  mlently 
back  into  the  car. 

"It  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  critic  is  amdous  to  destroy  . 
the  Bible.  If  he  is,  he  cumot  do  it.  I  have  not  the  smallest 
fear  that  he  can,  but  if  he  can,  let  him  do  it.  What  do  I  want 
with  a  Bible  that  a  critic  could  upset.  If  his  investigations 
only  go  to  confirm  my  faith  in  the  Bible,  then  he  is  my  bene- 
factor, and  it  may  be  that  if  I  will  treat  him  with  charity, 
while  he  is  shaking  and  testing  the  rock  of  my  hope,  he  may 
come  to  believe  in  the  foundation  and  get  on  it.  At  any  rate 
we  must  give  him  time." 

"They  listened"  said  he  "with  bright  and  responsive  kind- 
ness as  I,  for  forty  five  minutes,  qwke  on  charity  as  a  working 
principle  and  gave  the  principle  free  permission  to  get  in  its 
work  on  the  victim  of  the  evening." 

In  wrilong  about  it  he  sud:  "I  had  the  trip  of  my  life." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXX 
1896—1807 

A  SHOCEINO  DIHASTSB.      ABDUOUS  BOILDINa  CAHPAION.      REVIVAL 
HEETING  IK  OBANTILLB,  OHIO. 

Royal  dayB  were  these  which  came  to  him  during  this  Winter 
of  1896.  With  a  magnificent  church  building,  with  a  church 
membership  united  and  devoted,  with  multitudes  flocking 
eveiy  Sunday  to  his  ministry,  with  his  own  church  work  rich 
in  its  fruitage,  he  walked  the  heights.  The  city  of  Bichmond 
held  him  in  high  esteem,  his  services  were  in  wide  demand,  and 
Ipving  greetings  were  accorded  him  wherever  he  wsit.  His 
long  Church-building  oampfugn  had  bent  his  shoulders  for  a 
while,  but  all  that  was  over,  and  there  seemed  to  stretch  before 
him  many  years  of  glorious  ministry  in  his  new  building.  How 
little  he  dreamed  of  the  catastrophe  that  was  impending.  Dr. 
L.  C.  Brot^hton  was  aii^ng  him  in  meetings  at  Grace  Street. 

Tuesday,  February  25,  dawned  brightly  and  he  went  forth 
to  its  tasks  with  a  light  step.  There  was,  however,  one  mel- 
ancholy service  that  he  had  to  render  that  day  and  that  was 
to  preach  the  funeral,  at  three  o'clock,  of  one  of  his  deacons, 
A,  L,  Shepherd.  He  went  to  his  church  at  two  o'clock  to 
prepare  for  the  funeral.  As  he  enterred  the  building  he  noticed 
that  it  was  full  of  smoke  and  he  himted  up  the  sexton  and  said 
to  him:  "David,  the  house  is  full  of  smoke;  open  the  windows 
and  ventilate  the  building." 

"There  is  something  the  matter  with  the  flues,"  the  sexton 
replied,  as  he  went  off  to  attend  to  the  matter.  In  a  few  seconds 
he  came  runnii^  back  and  shouted: 

"Good  Lord,  Doctor;  the  wood  in  the  enipne  room  is  on  fire; 
but  I  can  put  it  out." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


380  BURNING  OF  HIS  CHURCH 

Dr.  Hatcher  ran  out  of  the  building  to  get  some  negroes  to 
help  him.  He  next  ran  across  the  street  to  the  comer  drug 
store  and  said:    "My  church  is  burning;  send  in  the  alarm." 

He  hurried  back  to  the  church  and  the  men  aaid:  "We  can  put 
it  out,  Doctor;  You  need  not  worry." 

Ab  they  said  this  he  noticed  unoke  issuing  from  a  recess 
above  the  engine  room.  In  a  few  seconds  the  rumble  and  clang 
of  the  approaching  fire  engines  were  heard;  in  a  few  seconds 
more  the  amdous  pastor  expected  to  see  the  welcome  stream 
of  water  pouring  upon  the  flames, — ^when  suddenly  a  tongue  of 
fire  was  seen  to  leap  into  the  main  auditorium.  The  engines 
dashed  up  to  the  building  and  the  firemen  wildly  unrolled  the 
hose,  but  as  the  chief  saw  the  flames  now  sweeping  like  mad 
demons  through  the  large  audience  room  he  said  to  the  pastor: 

"Doctor,  t^e  building  is  doomed.  It  is  impossible  to  save  it." 

Some  one  standing  by  saw  a  tear  come  in  his  eye  as  the  chief 
made  that  announcement,  "^mi  not  scone  one  break  into  my 
study  and  save  some  of  my  books  and  pt^ers,"  be  asked,  and 
the  reply  was: 

"Doctor  Batcher,  it  is  impossible.  It  would  be  dangerous 
for  any  one  to  attempt  to  enter  the  study,  inasmuch  as  the  fire 
started  right  under  that  room." 

From  every  direction  the  fire  en^es  still  kept  coming;  the 
men  seemed  mad  as  they  leaped  from  their  engines,  but  they 
were  too  late;  by  this  time  the  church  was  a  roaring  furnace. 

And  there  stood  the  pastor  gazii^  upon  the  magnificent 
structure  that  had  been  his  joy  and  pride,  that  had  cost  him 
years  of  toil  and  sacrifice,  there  before  bis  eyes  it  was  now  melt- 
ing away.  A  reporter  rushed  up  to  him  with  his  many  ques- 
tions but  got  no  answer;  so  overwhelmed  was  he  that  he  could 
not  talk.  Suddenly  he  felt  two  big  strong  arms  around  him, 
and  a  kindly  voice  aud; 

"Never  mind,  Doctor;  we  will  build  another  and  you  m^ 
caU  on  me  for  (500". 

Ee  turned  around  and  looked  into  the  face  of  Capt.  Chas. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BURNING  OF  HIS  CHURCH  381 

H.  Eppea.  One  of  his  Sunday  School  scholars,  the  daughter 
ot  bis  beloved  deacon,  E.  M.  Foster,  caught  hold  of  him  and, 
with  an  imperious  pull  and  tone  of  voice,  eoid:  "Come  around 
borne,  Doctor  Hatcher,"  and  tc^ether  they  went  to  the  Foster 
borne  near  the  church.  It  was  then  nearly  time  for  the  funeral 
of  bis  beloved  deacon,  Mrs.  Foster,  who  bad  already  heard  the 
dreadful  news,  saw  bim  coming. 

"Make  a  strong  cup  of  coffee  at  once"  she  shouted  to  the 
cook  and  then  went  to  the  door  to  greet  him.  As  he  entered 
the  bouse  he  found  the  family  crying  and  heartbroken.  In  a 
little  while  he  was  seated  at  the  table  drinking  the  coffee. 
Suddoily  he  lifted  up  the  cup  and  brought  it  down  with  a  bang 
vpoa  the  table.  "I  have  always  wondered"  said  Mrs.  Fosta-, 
"why  that  cup  did  not  break.  He  brought  it  down  witii  such 
force,  as  be  said  with  great  earnestness:  "The  old  house  is 
giHie,  but  we  will  build  another."  From  that  moment  he  seemed 
a  new  man.    It  was  at  that  time  that  I  found  him. 

I  was  at  home  in  Richmond  on  a  visit  that  day,  and  at  about 
two  o'clock  the  fire  bell  rang  and  as  we  looked  down  Grace 
Street  we  noticed  heavy  volumes  of  smoke,  and  it  was  not  very 
far  away.  I  hurried  down  the  street.  The  smoke  appeared 
dangerously  near  the  church — on  I  went,  every  step  increasing 
my  anxiety;  from  every  direction  the  people  were  running  and 
the  file  bells  were  sounding  and  in  a  few  seconds  my  worst 
fears  were  reaUzed.  The  wind  was  rafpng — it  seemed  to  be 
almost  howlii^, — and  the  cinders  were  flying  over  our  bead 
as  if  driven  by  a  hurricane.  From  every  part  of  the  city, 
alraig  every  street  and  alley,  the  crowds  were  coming;  doors  and 
windows  of  every  house  seemed  open  and  the  inmates  of  the 
hinnes  woe  rushing  off  towards  the  burning  church,  and  the 
ladies,  who  were  not  running,  were  standing  at  their  front 
gates.  The  entire  dty  appeared  to  have  but  one  thought 
and  that  was  that  Grace  Street  Church  was  burning. 

As  I  dashed  up  to  the  surging  throng  my  first  thought  was, 
of  course,  of  my  father,  but  no  one  oould  tell  where  he  was. 
One  bit  of  information  hinted  at  bis  being  then  in  the  roaring 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


382  THE  CHtmCH  IN  ASHES 

building.  It  waa  soon  learned  that  lie  had  gone  to  Mr.  Foster's. 
There,  instead  of  fin^i^  him  prostrated  by  the  sudden  catas- 
trophe, I  saw  him  standing  at  the  mantel  talking  in  calm 
and  bright  tones  with  the  family  and  with  others  who  had  come 
in.  It  was  the  case  of  a  soul  quickly  and  completely  triumphing 
over  disaster.  He  knew  well  what  those  amokii^  walla  and 
those  heaps  of  ashes  meant, — ^meant  for  him  and  for  his  church; 
he  had  gone  through  it  all  in  that  tragic  half  hour,  and  n<me 
can  tell  what  he  suffered  in  those  moments.  But  it  was  over 
now;  it  had  done  its  worst  for  him  and  he  turned  his  face 
towards  the  future.    He  gave  the  following  order: 

"See  Dr.  Landnim  and  tell  him  to  open  the  Second  Baptist 
Church  for  the  funeral.  Have  notices  of  the  funeral  put  up 
where  all  the  people  can  see  it  who  come  to  the  fire  and  notify 
the  family  to  head  the  proceeaon  for  the  Second  Chun^" 

Shortly  after  that  we  were  in  b  hack  on  our  way  to  the 
funeral  at  the  Second  Church,  In  the  sermon  not  by  word  or 
manner  did  he  ^ve  any  hint  of  the  crias  through  which  he  waa 
paarang.  It  was  a  woful  picture  presented  by  the  deacons 
as  they  stood  around  the  open  grave.  From  the  cemetery  we 
drove  back  to  the  church, — or  rather  to  the  place  where  the 
church  was — and  as  the  deacons  looked  upon  the  smokii^  ruina 
they  "cried  like  babies."  In  the  meantime  the  whole  tnty 
seemed  excited  and  full  of  sympathy  for  the  pastor  and  his 
people.  The  Bichmond  Dispatch  devoted  a  considerable  part 
of  the  paper  to  accounts  of  the  calamity.  Its  readers  were 
greeted  by  a  large  picture  of  the  buildii^  in  flames  and  with 
great  headline,  such  as 

THE  CHURCH  IN  ASHES 

Oraee  Streets  Splendid  rwui  BvUdwig  Decoyed    YetUrdt^ 

Afternoon. 

The  structure  a  total  Wreck. 

Ortiy  fragments  of  the  vxMa  tell  the  story  of  desol(Uum  and  ruin. 

Not  a  Single  Article  Saved 

The  handsome  fumishinga  and  Dr.   Hatcher's  entire  Library 


It  eaiued  many  other  Fins. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


AFTERTHEFinE 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


A  WONDERFUL  MEETING        383 

The  eituation  called  for  a  leader  and  the  pastor  met  the  call. 
That  afternoon,  with  his  home  surging  with  Erympathetic 
callera,  he  talked  with  his  visitors  and  Ifud  bis  plans.  As  he  was 
standing  at  the  front  door  with  some  one  who  was  speaking 
of  his  very  heavy  burdens  he  answered, — ^in  a  maimer  very 
impresave — "After  all,  I  reckon  that  a  person's  worth  in  this 
world  is  in  proportion  to  the  burdens  that  he  can  cany." 

The  insurance  on  the  building  was  only  $20,000,  which 
was  exactly  the  amount  of  indebtedness  resting  on  the  church. 
The  fire  therefore  left  them  with  nothing.  "How  are  j^u  feeling, 
Doctor?"  asked  a  reporter  who  called  on  him  that  afternoon, 
and  his  reply  was:  "You  may  say  that  with  a  house  full  of 
company,  two  funerals  and  a  marriage  this  afternoon,  I  am 
dcong  as  well  as  could  be  hoped."  To  another  reporter  who 
came  in  he  said:  "The  destruction  of  my  sermons  is  a  serious 
blow" — and  turning  to  Dr.  Landrum  who  was  near  by  he  added 
with  a  laugh  "I  reckon,  however,  I  can  get  a  supply  from  my 
friend  Dr.  Landrum." 

He  issued  in  the  next  morning's  paper  a  call  to  his  church, 
asking  that  every  member  would  meet  him  on  the  next  after- 
noon, at  four  o'clock,  at  the  First  Presbyterian  Church.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  any  religious  service  was  ever  held  in  Bich- 
mond  suipassing  that  one  in  dramatic  interest.  From  all 
over  the  city  on  the  next  afternoon  came  the  m^nbers  and 
friends  and  as  they  gathered  they  sat  with  sad  and  tearfid 
faces, — and  some  of  the  heads  were  bowed.  At  the  "appointed 
time,  a  door  in  the  rear  of  the  pulpit  opened  and  Dr.  Hatcher 
mtered,  accompanied  by  many  brother  ministers,  including 
the  Jewish  Eabbi.  As  the  pastor  walked  m,  facu^  his  members 
who  felt  that  they  were  a  people  without  a  home,  it  is  not 
surpriang  that  nearly  everybody  fell  to  weepii^,  but  as  the 
gastor  walked  upon  the  pulpit  he  started  an  old  fashioned 
hymn;  his  loyal  members  tried  to  join,  but  it  was  hard  to  cry 
and  ong  at  the  same  time  and  the  cry  had  the  start  and  the 
advant^^  In  one  case  and  another  and  another  the  song  got 
the  better  of  the  cry  and  louder  and  louder  rose  the  hymn. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


384  A  WONDEEFDI,  MEETING 

though  in  many  cases  the  un^g  and  the  weeping  were  hope- 
lessly blended.  When  the  song  was  ended  tlie  pastor  came  foi^ 
ward  and  with  tearful  eyes  said : 

"I  believe  I  will  b^in  this  meetJng  with  a  request  that  all 
who  love  the  Lord  and  believe  that  you  can  follow  him  in  the 
darkness  as  well  as  in  the  light  will  please  stand  up." 

Almost  every  person  in  that  vast  audience  arose  and  after 
a  prayer,  Dr.  Hatcher  aiud:  "Let  us  sing,  'Praise  God  from 
whom  all  blesdngs  flow/  "  and  it  was  a  spectacle  indeed  to  see 
those  Grace  Street  people,  ednging  through  their  tears,  that 
hymn  of  praise.  Dr.  Kerr,  the  pastor  of  the  church  in  which 
the  service  was  then  being  held,  came  forward  and  said,  among 
other  things:  "The  First  Presbyterian  church  is  yours  as  long 
and  as  often  as  you  care  to  use  it.  The  flames  that  destroyed 
your  home  have  made  a  conflagration  of  brotherly  love  that 
nothing  can  destroy."  The  hymn  "Bleat  be  the  tie  that  binds," 
was  sung,  and  Dr.  Hatcher  said:  "I  never  felt  h^pier  than 
!  do  now".  ^  Then,  letting  his  gase  travel  over  the  great  au- 
dience, he  s^d  dowly: 

"On  yesterday  when  the  church  burned  I  decided  to  say  to  my 
congr^ation  that  if  another  movem^it  was  to  be  inaugurated 
to  build  a  church  thrai  some  one  else  had  better  be  placed  at 
the  head.   I  have  changed  my  mind  however." 

"Thank  God"  swd  some  one. 

"If  I  had  not"  he  said  "I  would  have  to  go  off  in  some  place 
and  die.  So  sincere  and  tender  and  encouraging  have  been  the 
expressions  of  sympathy  and  confidence  from  all  sides  that  I 
can  do  noticing  but  stand  at  my  post."  Then,  with  a  bright- 
ening tone,  he  said :  "I  thank  God  that  his  blessed  promises 
were  not  burned  with  the  church.  I  never  knew  before  how 
much  I  loved  my  people  nor  how  much  they  loved  me."  He 
then  read  a  paper  which  he  had  after  consultation  with  the 
deacons  prepared.  The  paper,  among  other  things,  suggested 
ihe  ^qxtintment  of  two  committees,  one  to  deal  with  the 
matter  of  a  tonporary  meeting  place  and  Uie  other  committee 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  WONDERFUL  MEETING  385 

to  be  a  building  committee  to  take  in  hand  the  matter  of  erect- 
ing a  nev  structure,. 

"And  now"  said  he  "I  want  to  ask  that  all  you  who  think 
we  ought  to  build  another  church  will  stand  and  join  heartily 
in  einipng  'How  firm  a  foundation' ".  The  members  came  to 
then-  feet  and  the  hymn  began  to  roll  in  power  through  the 
buildii^. 

"Let  us  give  our  pastor  the  hand"  suggested  some  one  "and 
assure  him  of  our  willingness  to  cooperate  with  him  in  the 
struggle  for  a  new  building." 

Out  into  the  aisles  the  people  thronged,  pressing  towards  the 
front  and  Eonging  as  they  moved  forwards.  As  they  crowded 
about  the  pulpit,  reaching  forth  their  hands  to  their  pastor, 
smiling  and  onging  through  their  tears,  they  presented  a 
thrilling  picture.  Rabbi  Cahsh,  who  was  near  the  pastor  on 
the  platform,  remarked : 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  this  is  wonderful.  Do  your  people  always 
rally  about  you  in  such  a  way  as  that?"  "Not  always"  replied 
Dr.  Hatcher  "it  feJtes  a  fire  to  bring  about  such  a  scene. 
You  know  we  had  a  httle  blaze  down  at  the  comer  on  yes- 
terday and  my  people,  have  been  tried  by  fire  and  this  is  Uie 
result," 

"Well  Doctor"  he  said  "this  Is  one  of  the  most  wonderful 
manifestations  upon  which  I  have  ever  looked." 

"Doctor  Hatcher"  called  out  Dr.  Landrum  "I  received  a 
surprise  this  morning.  My  telephone  bell  rang  several  times 
and  when  I  had  listened  to  what  several  of  my  members  had  to 
say  to  me  I  had  S1,000  promised  for  your  new  church  and  here 
is  the  pledge." 

The  next  gentlemui  to  arise  was  the  Jewish  B&bbi,  Dr. 
Calish: 

"Doctor  Hatcher,"  he  sud  "on  behfdf  of  our  Beth  Ahaba 
Synagogue  I  take  pleasure  in  tendering  to  your  Grace  Street 
Church  their  building  for  all  your  services  and  your  Sunday 
School  meetings  with  coal  free  and  lights  free  for  so  long  a  time 
as  you  may  need  or  desire  it.  The  destruction  of  your  ckurch 
is  a  calamity  to  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  our  city." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


386  A  WONDERFUL  MEETING 

"Doctor  Hatcher,"  called  out  B«y.  Mr  Mercer,  pastor  of 
the  Weat  View  Church  "Permit  a  word  from  a  daughter  of 
Grace  Street  Church,— West  View.  We  are  building  a  new 
church  and  we  have  already  secured  S1500  in  aubscHptions 
from  your  Grace  Street  members  but  I  am  authorised  to 
cancel  all  these  subscriptions  from  our  stricken  mother  church 
and  we  will  work  no  further  on  these  subscriptions  in  Grace 
Street.  In  addition  to  this  our  little  church  will  give  at  least 
$200  to  help  you  rebuild." 

"I'll  have  to  break  up  this  meeting"  s^d  Dr.  Hatcher.  "It 
is  too  good."  Then  holding  in  his  hand  a  batch  of  telegrams 
he  said:  "These  are  messages  of  condolence  and  proffers  of 
aid  from  good  people  here  and  elsewhere."  After  yet  others  had 
offered  the  use  of  their  buildings  to  the  Grace  Street  Church 
he  said;  "I  thought  that  my  people  and  I  were  homeless  when 
lo,  we  have  never  had  so  many  homes  in  our  lives." 

"The  gray  haired  pastor"  says  the  Dispatch  "who  has 
labored  for  nearly  21  years  with  his  fiock  was  more  than  once 
during  the  meetings  almost  overcome  with  emotion." 

"I  almost  feel"  said  Dr.  Hatcher  "that  I  ought  to  apol<^;ue 
for  my  people  and  for  myself  for  being  so  cheerful  under  such 
conditions.  But  we  cannot  help  it  ao  long  as  we  are  pennitted 
to  feast  upon  the  loving  kindn^  of  our  friends  and  brethrai." 

At  the  close  of  the  meetii^  Rabbi  Calisb  sfud  to  Dr.  K^r: 

"I  have  heard  that  there  ia  no  power  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
and  I  have  oftai  said  so  myself  but  I  will  never  say  so  aguu, 
for  never  in  all  my  life  have  I  seen  such  an  impressive  religious 
demonstration  as  I  have  witnessed  this  afternoon." 

The  Sichmond  Dispatch  said  that  the  fire  seemed  to  have 
"touched  the  purse  strings,  as  well  as  the  heart  strings,  of 
every  num,  woman  and  child  in  the  city."  About  fifteen  bus- 
iness houses  offered  to  receive  offerings  for  the  Church  and  a 
list  of  these  houses  was  published  in  the  paper.  Several  la^e 
stores  announced  that  they  would  give  a  certun  percentage 
of  th^  receipts,  on  a  certain  day,  to  the  church.  The  ministera 
of  all  Denominatiwis,  including  the  Jewish  Rabbi,  published 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CITY  AND  STATE  SYMPATHETIC      387 

a  Btatement  declaring  that  the  fire  was  a  city-wide  calamity 
and  calling  upon  all  citizens  to  contribute  towards  a  new 
building.  The  preadent  of  the  Baptist  General  Asaociation 
of  the  State,  Dr.  T.  8.  Dunaway,  published  an  appeal  suggesting 
that  all  the  Baptist  churches  in  the  state  should,  on  the  next 
Sunday,  take  a  collection  for  the  Grace  Street  Church.  Through 
many  years  Grace  Street  with  her  pastor  had  opened  her  doors 
and  purse  to  burdened  pastors  from  all  parte  of  the  state  and 
now  the  bread,  cast  upon  the  waters,  was  returning.  In  the 
meantime,  he  called  his  building  committee  together  and  one 
of  thm  first  acts  was  to  present  him  with  a  new  ^pe  writer 
and  a  new  bu^yi  one  having  been  burned  and  the  other  having 
been  worn  out.  He  remarked  goodnaturedly  about  this  double 
^t  that  it  was  not  a  sentimental  thing  to  do,  inasmuch  as  it 
was  apparent  that  his  people  wanted  him  "to  be  hustling  all 
over  tiie  country  and  writing  to  every  body." 

The  revival  meetings  had  been  moved  to  the  Second  Baptist 
Church  where  they  continued  every  night  with  Dr.  Brou^ton 
doing  the  preaching.  Several  Bibles  had  been  ^ven  to  Dr. 
Broughton  in  return  for  his  own  Bibles  which  had  been  dee* 
troyed  in  the  fire.  "I  would  like  for  someone  to  send  me  a  new 
supply  of  sermons,  for  mine  were  also  burned"  he  facetiously 
remarked  one  day,  whereupon  the  janitor,  who  was  standing 
near  him,  said:  "Dr.  Landrum  has  got  a  big,  black  box  full  of 
sermons  over  there — guess  he  will  give  you  as  many  of  tiiem 
as  you  want." 

Many  such  pleasantries  were  indulged  in  during  the  stnuns 
and  sorrows  that  followed  the  fire.  Dr.  Hatcher's  sermons  were 
also  burned  and  one  of  the  deacons  s^d  with  an  assumed  tone 
of  satisfaction:  "Now  that  all  your  old  sermons  are  burned  I 
guess  we  will  have  some  new  ones."  "My  old  sermons  were 
burned  up,"  quickly  r^Bed  the  pastor,  "but  my  capacity 
for  making  some  more  mean  sermons  was  not  burned  up." 
He  told  Dr.  Broug^ton  that  he  knew  that  when  the  fire  stniok 
his  (Broughton's)  sermons  it  was  imposedble  then  to  stop  tiie 
flames.     "Dr.   Broi^ton  rather  meanly  intimated,"   says 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


388  A  HARD  CAMPAIGN 

Dr.  Hatdier,  "that  if  the  fire  got  into  mine,  it  was  the 
first  time  they  knew  what  fire  was, — or  words  to  that 
rftect." 

Grace  Street  was  rich  in  invitataons  from  other  churchee  to 
use  tli^r  buildings.  "Our  church.  .  . '  "  said  Dr.  Hatcher 
"worriupped  in  thirteeo  different  places  and  one  unsophisti- 
cated boy  touched  off  the  aituation  with  unconscious  humor 
when  he  said :  'I  was  converted  at  the  Second  Baptist  Church,* 
ree^ved  for  Bi4)tism  at  the  First  Presbyterian  church,  bf4>- 
tised  at  the  Calvaiy  Baptist  Church  and  received  the  ri^t 
hand  of  fellowship  at  the  Jewish  synagc^ue.' " 

A  gentlemen  said  that  the  outburst  of  tdndnesa  constituted 
a  new  era  in  Uie  history  of  christian  fellowship.  The  Grace 
Street  people  rejoiced  in  the  kindness  of  tbdr  mster  churchee 
and  yet  thdr  tramp,  Sunday  by  Sunday,  from  one  church  to 
another,  in  different  parts  of  the  city,  had  its  pathetic  side. 

Two  things  were  decided  upon ; — one  was  to  erect  a  temporary 
Tabernacle  and  the  other  to  begin,  at  <Hice,  a  campaign  for  a 
new  building. 

Looked  at  in  one  way,  his  lot  seemed  a  tragedy.  For  ne&ify 
four  years  of  his  life  he  had  carried  the  burden  of  a  building 
oampugn,  struggling  first  to  enter  the  Sunday  School  room  and 
later  the  auditorium  of  his  splendid  building  and  now — not 
long  after  he  had  grasped  the  fruit  of  his  labors — the  building 
was  swept  from  him  by  the  heartless  fiames  and  another  l<mg 
road  of  church  building — ^this  time  hard  and  cheerless — 
stretched  before  him.  One  is  tempted  to  exclaim:  "Was  it 
not  a  mistake  for  such  a  lai^e  portion  of  his  life  to  be  employed 
with  the  mechanical  bothers  of  church  building!  Multitudes 
of  others,  less  highly  endowed,  could  erect  houses;  why  should 
he, — a  preacher,  a  winner  of  souls, — tie  himself  to  problems  of 
bricks  and  stone?"  But  it  had  to  be.  He  could  not  dismtangle 
himself  from  the  task.  It  was  a  part  of  his  work;  and  he  must 
do  it  all.  He  did  not  naturally  like  such  buildii^  campaigns. 
He  loved  to  preach  and  to  ^ve  bimsdf  to  tiie  work  of  the  min- 
istry and  yet  a  considerable  part  of  eight  of  the  best  years  of 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


POPULAR  WITH  THE  WORKMEN     389 

his  life  was  taken  up  with  planning  for  money  raising,  meetii^ 
bills,  constructing  tabernacles  and  church  edifices. 

It  must  not  be  overlooked,  however,  that  his  church  building 
campaigns  were  a  part  of  bis  miniatry — they  were  spiritual, 
aa  well  as  material,  in  their  nature.  If,  in  his  s^mons,  it  was 
the  man  who  spoke  the  loudest,  so,  in  Ms  financial  and  building 
undertakings  it  was  the  man  again  that  wae  preaching.  His 
marked  individuality  expressed  itself  whether  he  was  in  the 
pulpit,  in  a  croquet  game,  in  a  c<»mnittee  meeting,  or  in  con- 
ferences with  the  architect,  or  the  carpenter.  His  good  sense, 
his  humor,  his  patience,  his  honesty,  Ms  faith,  and  many  other 
such  qualities  were  ever  impressing  others  as  they  touched 
Mm  each  day. 

The  workmen  on  the  building,  from  the  contractor  down  to 
the  lowest  laborer,  all  knew  Dr.  Hatcher  and  wMle  they  had  no 
patience  with  intruders  who  came  poddering  around  the  struc- 
ture to  interfere,  or  take  up  their  time,  yet  they  always  had 
a  glad  welcome  for  the  pastor.  Their  eyes  would  brighten  at 
Ms  comii^.  He  was  so  smart,  so  intelligent,  so  genuinely 
interested  in  each  one,  talked  so  much  sense  to  them  and  seemed 
to  have  the  entire  situation  so  well  in  hand  that  they  recdved 
hitn  with  respect  and  loved  to  talk  with  Mm.  Things  were 
always  spicy  when  he  was  around  and  they  were  put  on  their 
mettle  to  hold  up  their  end  in  the  conversation.  The  CoDtractor 
who  did  the  atone  work  on  the  building,  Mr.  Netherland,  became 
a  great  friend  and  admirer  of  Ms,  and  many  good  natured 
wrangles  and  genial  discussions  tbey  had.  It  was  astonishing 
to  note  to  what  extent  he  grasped  the  principles  involved  in 
the  building  operations  and  how,  in  all  the  conferences,  he 
seemed  to  be  the  master  of  the  situation. 

The  building  undertakii^  upon  wMch  he  was  now  entering 
was  destined  to  be  much  more  arduous  and  exacting  than  the 
former  one.  The  movement  for  the  first  building  had  in  it 
a  novelty  and  ardor  that  waa  impos^ble  for  the  second.  Such 
incessant  activity  in  matters  material  of  course  left  him  leas 
time  for  Ms  studies  and  sermon-making  and  for  laboring  among 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


390        COMMENCING  HIS  CAMPAIGN 

the  weak  churches  out  in  Uie  state.    "Die  church  itself  sof- 
f  ered  in  its  spiiitual  life. 

"It  looks  now"  writes  my  mother  "as  if  he  will  have  to  endure 
that  kind  of  hardship  much  of  his  life.  The  struggle  for  the 
old  building  is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  stni^e  for  the 
new  one.  It  is  well  that  he  takes  his  lot  as  well  as  he  doee 
and  that  he  has  good  health." 

"I  am  not  getting  much  money  these  days,"  be  writes.  "But 
I  hear  encouraging  things  here  and  there,  and  that  kec^  my 
soul  from  snking.  I  have  an  idea  that  I  can  get  my  peoide 
i:^  to  thirty  thousand  dollars,  but  that  will  require  time," 

"Thirty  thousand  dollarsi"  For  a  people  who  a  few  days 
before  this  had  been  worshipping  in  property  worth  about 
980,000,  that  sounded  almost  pathetic.  Nearly  all  oETerings 
that  could  be  expected  to  come  in  voluntarily  from  the  outside 
had  been  received  and  there  lay  before  him  a  grim  and  lengthy 
road  and  none  knew  better  than  himself  how  steep  and  offtimes 
lonely  it  would  be.  But  he  pressed  on  with  a  song  in  his  heart. 
On  Monday  morning  he  writes: 

"I  went  to  Manchester  last  night  and  preached  to  a  big 
crowd.  I  did  not  see  any  trees  loaded  down  with  silver  i4>plea 
for  my  building  fund.  But  it  may  chance  that  I  may  gra^ 
a  few  reluctant  dimes  over  in  that  town  after  awhile. 

"Haddon  and  his  friends  are  to  give  us  a  great  concert  to- 
morrow night.  Every  one  expects  hampers  of  money  as  the 
result  except  myself.  Such  things  do  not  realize  the  popular 
e]g}ectations. 

"I  have  a  comforting  note  from  Josh  Leverii^  of  Baltimore." 

At  a  later  time  Mr.  Levering  kindly  entertained  a  group  of 
Baptist  laymen  at  his  home.  They  were  presented  to  Dr. 
Hatcher  who  told  of  the  burning  of  his  church  and  a  gift  for 
his  church  came  to  him  as  the  result  of  that  social  gathoing 
at  Mr.  Levering's, 

He  was  bu^  now  with  plana  for  his  new  edifice.  His  church 
was  worshiping  in  their  temporary  tabernacle.  He  preached 
in  Atlanta  and  the  afternoon  newspaper  announced  on  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DEPAKTURE  OF  DR.  LANDRUM       391 

Bulletin  Board  at  the  front  that  Dr.  Hatcher  would  probably 
be  called  to  Dr.  Hawthorne's  church. 

On  the  following  Sunday  he  said  to  hia  church  that  there  was 
not  enough.money  or  honor  outade  of  Grace  Street  church  to 
attract  him  and  that  he  never  expected  to  leave  them,  unless 
he  felt  that  they  did  not  want  him. 

He  was  very  fond  of  showing  marked  attention  to  special 
viators  who  were  stopping  for  a  few  days  in  the  city.  He 
would  call  together  his  friends  that  they  might,  with  him,  do 
b<Bior  to  such  visitors  and  make  a  little  parade  over  them. 
For  example,  he  had  as  guests  in  his  home  "the  Lathams  of 
Geoigia",  some  of  his  kins-people  on  his  mother's  «de.  Not 
only  was  he  s^d  to  resemble  his  mother,  who  was  a  Miss 
Latham,  but  he  s^d  that  his  brother  Harvey  inherited  the 
traits  of  the  Hatchers  while  he  took  his  little  stock  from  the 
Latham  side.    Concemtag  his  visitors,  he  writes  on  July  6th: 

"I  gave  them  on  Tuesday  night  what,  by  a  generous  con- 
struction, might  be  called  a  'Reception'.  Quite  a  little  torrent 
of  people  were  on  hand  and  they  seemed  to  think  that  life  was 
worth  living." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  another  link  dropped  out  of  the  chain 
of  his  Kichmond  friendships;  Dr.  W.  W.  Landrum,  with  whom 
he  had  enjc^ed  royal  friendship,  accepted  a  call  to  Atlanta. 
In  writing  of  his  grief  over  losing  him  from  Richmond  he  adds: 
"But  I  never  loved  a  tree,  or  preacher,  but  what  it  was  the 
first  to  fade  away,  or  to  accept  a  call  elsewhere,  as  the  case 
might  be."  Upon  rec^ving  the  news  that  he  was  a  grandfather 
he  writes:  "Well  your  mother  has  of  course  notified  you  of 
Kato's  maternal  honors.  The  subduing  dignities  of  grand- 
fatherhood  have  caught  me  at  last." 

He  entered  upon  his  Fall  work  with  heavily  laden  shoulders, — 
so  much  so  that  he  could  not  visit  the  Portsmouth  Association 
which  he  always  loved  to  attend.  He  wrote  me:  "And  so  I 
did  not  get  to  the  Portsmouth  Association.  There  were  a  whole 
family  of  new  bom  reasons — a  litter  of  them — ^for  not  going. 
But  they  are  too  young  to  be  named." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


392  WILLIAM  J.  BRYAN 

He  never  flung  out  his  banner  bb  a  politiciian, — in  fact, 
never  joined  th^r  ranks  in  any  way — and  yet  he  took  immoiae 
interest  in  the  political  campaigos  of  the  country,  and  there 
were  few  spectatore  who  were  better  informed  about  the 
dection  conflicts  raging  in  the  country  than  was  he.  On 
November  3rd,  the  nation  was  to  cast  its  vote  for  president, — 
Mr.  Wm.  J.  Bryan  being  one  of  the  candidates.  On  November 
2nd,  be  writes  me: 

"I  am  still  of  the  opinion  that  the  plucky  and  tireless  Neb- 
raskau  [Mr.  Bryan]  will  be  outvot^  by  a  great  electoral 
majority.  If  he  is  victorious  tomorrow,  then  I  will  be  as  cheer- 
ful a  man  as  ever  proved  to  be  a  false  prophet. 

"I  feel  a  great  respect  for  Bryan.  He  has  convictions  and  is 
evidently  Mncere  in  his  utterances.  His  endurance  has  been 
above  any  thought  I  ever  had  of  the  limits  of  human  activity. 
He  will  be  a  king  in  defeat.  This  land  will  not  forget  him.  My 
lips  have  never  yet  said  for  whom  my  vote  was  to  be  cast  and 
they  are  still  dumb.  But  I  have  a  towering  scorn  for  the  man 
who  tmdertakes  to  put  the  mark  of  anarchy  on  Bryan  or  the 
stun  of  immorality  on  the  farmers.  The  meanest  thing  done 
in  this  campaign  has  been  the  deeds  of  the  bolters,  and  even 
CarUale  went  to  Kentucky  to  advise  the  Democrats  to  vote 
for  Breckinridge." 

He  loved  to  work  upon  boys, — ^if  they  were  made  of  re- 
spcmave  material — but  sometimes  he  would  strike  an  impoa- 
ubility.  He  would  not  waste  his  time  on  such  cases,  as  a  rule, 
but  there  was  one  incorrigible  youth  at  Richmond  College  in 
whose  behalf  he  permated.  He  had  promised  the  father  that 
he  would  turn  a  friendly  side  towards  his  boy.  He  thus  writes 
regarding  his  experience  with  him: 

"I  am  much  embarrassed  by  the  case.  I  am  most  anxious  to  be 
a  comfort  to  his  father,  but  the  youth  has  not  got  the  logical 
element  in  him.  His  talent  for  the  unexpected  is  strong  and  he 
finds  happiness  in  being  eccentric.  He  has  a  touch  of  resist- 
fulneas  in  his  compo^tion  which  is  apt  to  turn  your  effort  to 
influence  him  into  a  small  red  flag  of  defiance.  But  I  am  watch- 
ing and  hope  to  get  in  my  work  soon.  Keep  the  folks  cheerful 
and  tell  them  that  time  is  a  great  physcian,  though  his  pro- 
ceeses  are  decidedly  slow." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  EDUCATION  BOARD  393 

At  the  meeting  of  the  General  Association  in  November  be 
found  himself  in  a  minted  end  somewhat  fiery  discussion.  One 
of  the  ministers  attacked  the  Education  Board  of  which  Dr. 
Hatcher  was  president,  charging  that  the  Board  was  not 
careful  enough  in  its  selection  of  young  ministers  to  be  aided 
by  the  Board  in  their  education.  The  speaker  declared  that 
sc»ue  of  the  young  men  who  were  admitted  were  not  up  to  the 
mark  in  their  qualifications.  The  attack  dropped  like  a  bolt 
out  of  an  April  sky  and  I  have  seldom  seen  him  so  aroused  aa 
on  that  occasion,  but^ — as  on  so  many  occasions —  his  humor 
came  to  his  rescue,  and  also  to  the  rescue  of  the  service.  After 
repelling  the  attack,  stating,  among  other  things,  that  the 
Board  had  to  depend  largely  upon  the  churches  who  sent  to 
them  these  young  men  with  their  endorsement,  he  then  let 
himself  and  his  audience  down  by  a  humorous  conclusion 
which  ran  somewhat  as  follows: 

"And  besides,  suppose  we  do  sometimes  take  in  some  rough 
and  unpromising  material.  Iiet  us  not  be  surprised  at  it.  I 
remember  that  our  Lord  himself  took  a  lot  of  yoimg  men — 
twelve,  if  I  remember  correctly — ^whom  he  would  aid  in  thdr 
ministerial  training  and  what  was  their  quality?  A  mixed 
lot  were  they.  He  had  loads  of  trouble  with  some  of  them. 
Peter  was  an  awkward  fellow  and  I  doubt  whether  he  would 
pass  muster  before  any  of  our  Education  Boards.  He  was 
wof  ully  rantankerous  and  gave  the  Master  a  world  of  bother 
but  he  did  not  dismiss  him  on  that  account.  He  saw  in  him 
what  the  critics  did  not  see." 

"It  was  worth  coming  to  Richmond  to  see  Dr.  Hatcher"  says 
a  gentleman  writing  in  the  Herald  about  the  Association.  "He 
was  as  bouyant  as  a  boy  over  flowing  with  vitality,  watchful 
of  the  oomfort  of  the  great  host,  scarcely  taking  time  to  eat,  or 
sleep,  and  entering  into  all  the  exercises  with  keenest  zest." 

In  mtroducing  the  versatile  and  brilliant  Dr.  J.  B.  Gambrell, 
of  Texas,  he  said:  "Prof.  Mitchell  has  spoken  on  General 
Education,  President  Whitsitt  on  Ministerial  Education, — 
and  the  Lord  only  knows  what  the  next  speaker  will  talk  about." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


394  LETTER  TO  ORIE 

In  December  he  aids  hia  friend  Dr.  C.  C.  Meador  of  Wash- 
ington in  revival  meetings,  from  which  place  he  writes  his 
daughter  One  as  follows: 

"Washington,  D.  C,  Dec.  3rd,  1896. 

"My  Dear  Oris, — I  thought  that  I  would  write  you  while 
you  were  in  Lynchburg,  but  laziness  triumphed  and  I  didn't. 
I  dare  say  it  was  well  enough  not  to  write  until  it  would  be  too 
late  for  you  to  have  the  care  of  replying.  My  life  here  Bcems 
a  fraction  trivial.  I  have  no  service  in  the  day  and  life  seems 
wasted  when  I  have  no  duty  to  drive  its  spurs  in  me  from  morn- 
ing until  night. 

"Washington  has  attempted  to  be  very  chummy  with  me. 
Invitations  to  'stay  some'  with  folks  have  been  various  and 
dinners  and  lunches  have  sought  me.  I  have  not  been  overly 
responsive.  I  have  loved  the  repose  and  freedom  of  my  ap- 
pointed home. 

"Washington  fairly  glitters  with  Christmas  beauties.  Now 
and  then  I  vote  my  eyes'  a  little  chance  to  look  at  the  windows 
and  a  desire  bums  in  me  to  buy  trunks  of  things  to  take  home. 
But  I  speedily  remember  that  I  am  now  working  for  my  build- 
ing fund  and  with  no  out-look  for  personal  chink  and  I  call 
in  my  roving  eyes  and  resume  my  [>osition  in  Poverty's  vale 
(excuse  this  feeble  flicker  of  sentiment). 

"There  are  three  old  maids, — rasters  of  Mrs.  Dr. 's — 

in  the  house  and  they  are  positively  charming,  I  am  about 
to  decide  that  it  is  better  for  girls  not  to  marry,  but  take  care 
of  themselves,  and  take  care  of  their  worthless  old  fathers  as-well 
as  a  certain  young  Vassar  woman  of  my  acqu^ntance  is  doing. 

"I  am  belabored  to  stay  over  another  week  in  Washington,  but 
I  think  that  my  two  eyes,  by  the  mercy  of  the  Lord,  will  see 
the  City  of  the  Seven  Hills  about  2:30  on  Saturday  afternoon. 
I  am  quite  willing  to  peep  into  "608"  and  see  how  the  machine 
is  moving. 

"I  have  defaced  many  pages  with  the  froth  of  my  thoughts 
and  it  is  high  time  that  I  was  doing,  at  least,  one  sensible 
thii^ — ^whicb  will  be  the  speedy  en(£ng  of  this  sapless  pro- 
duction. 

"Yours,  "W.  E.  H." 

In  the  next  letter  he  gives  a  bird's-eye  view  of  bis  Christmas 
travels.  He  was  overflowing  with  happy  spirits  and  scattered 
pleasure  as  he  swung  around  the  circle: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHRISTMAS  WEEK  395 

"January  4tb,  1897. 

"My  Dkar  E, — I  had  quite  a  proud  week  of  it.  Monday 
afternoon  I  careered  to  Skmquarter  [Chesterfield  Co.]  and  held 
forth  in  the  afternoon  to  a  goodly  turn-out  of  the  faithful. 
Williams  dined  me  with  becoming  pomp  and  the  Rudds  gave  me 
s  fine  supper.  Tuesday  moming  Williama  drove  me  in  state 
to  Tomahawk  and  I  preached  at  noon  to  a  house  nearly  fuU. 

"There  Winfree  took  me  up  and  escorted  me  to  his  castle 
where  I  refreshed  myself  with  a  night's  rest.  Wednesday 
moming  found  me  at  home  and  at  noon  that  day  your  mother 
and  I  ran  up  to  Gwathmey  to  a  Sunday  School  duiplay  where 
we  were  the  pets  of  a  grateful  community.  That  night  I  had 
my  prayer  meeting. 

"ThiUBday  moming  found  me  enroute  for  Sterling  Heights 
[his  new  country  home,  afterwards  called  Careby  Hall], 
The  youthful  EUis  received  me  with  many  kindly  demons- 
trations at  Bremo  and  drove  me  to  the  Fork  under  whip  and 
lash.  I  found  that  an  imposing  Christmas  dining  was  under 
way  and  Dr.  George,  his  household,  Uncle  Markell  and  ever 
so  many  others,  including  odds  and  ends  of  the  rising  genera- 
tion, were  on  hand.  I  found  myself  immensely  ticiled,— 
so  to  speak,  to  find  myself  so  much  thought  of  by  nice  people. 
I  remained  until  Friday  evening  and  got  home  to  find  "608" 
ablase  with  a  frail  blow-out  in  honor  of  our  frisky  debu- 
tantes. I  sat  up-stairs  during  the  show,  sneezed  with  a  newly 
arrived  bad  cold,  toasted  my  feet  and  felt  that  Christmas  was 
over  with  Brer  Hatcher." 

He  went  to  Granville,  Ohio.,  to  hold  a  revival  campaign. 
From  Columbus, — while  enroute  to  Granville, — he  writes  Orie; 

"CoLDMBUS,  Ohio,  Jan.  12th,  1897. 
"My  Dear  Orie, — I  am  now  anxiously  engaged  in  choosing 
a  new  title  for  you — one  that  will  adequately  set  forth  your 
glories  as  a  lunch  fixer.  At  first  I  thought  that  Luncheonness 
would  meet  the  emergency  but  as  I  did  not  wish  Society  to 
regard  you  as  an  incarnated  luncheon  of  the  female  persuasion 
I  gave  that  up.  But  I  have  not  yet  recovered  from  the  feeling 
of  being  a  very  largely  incarnated  lunch  which  I  had  after 
devouring  the  excellent  viands  which  you  fumi^ed  me  for  my 
joumeyii^  mercies.  I  have  not  struck  a  fittdi^  name.  There 
IS  an  audacious  bite  to  the  Ohio  atmosphere.  I  find  soUtude 
a  rich  delight  tod^.    It  serves  to  compose  me  and  I  trust 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


396  GRANVILLE,  OHIO 

it  will  rest  my  inward  forces  for  the  grave  and  arduous  duties 
which  are  waiting  for  me  at  Granville.  I  am  now  going  to 
take  a  peep  at  the  Ohio  Legislature. 

"Yours,  "W.  E.  H." 

On  his  anival  at  Granville  he  writes  to  his  two  youngest 
daughters,  Edith  and  Elizabeth: 

"I  ^oin  upon  you  not  to  ait  up  too  late.  I  am  going  to 
study  the  vrttya  of  the  Ohio  pria,  and  if  I  find  any  good  pomts, 
I  will  bring  them  home  for  family  purposes.  It  is  my  ambititm 
for  you  to  be  such  lofty  characters  that  you  may  be  pointed 
to  as  examples  for  others.  This  you  axe  both  enable  of,  and 
you  must  aspire  to  it.  I  hope  to  see  you  ahine  in  the  social 
circle  to  which  you  are  (o  belong.  Cultivate  that  quiet  uid 
modest  dignity  without  which  no  woman  is  ever  truly  respected. 
Be  more  anxious  to  say  sensible  than  funny  things.  Men  dread 
a  funny  woman  and  hate  a  critical  woman.  A  modest  wit, 
which  is  spontaneous  and  unconscious  and  does  not  furnish 
its  own  ^plause,  is  beautiful. 

"But  I  must  not  lecture  my  young  Debs.  They  are  too  full 
of  energy  and  hope  to  endure  solemn  doctrine.  Be  hapt^  and 
write  to  me." 

Kegardiug  his  stopping  over  at  Columbus,  he  writes: 

"I  spent  yesterday  at  Columbus.  The  pastor  and  one  of  the 
deacons  of  the  First  Church  called  on  me.  They  gave  me  a  pleas- 
ant shock  by  telling  me  that  a  remark  which  I  made  to  the  pastor 
last  June,  when  I  was  out  here,  had  led  them  to  sell  their  old 
church,  build  them  a  tabernacle  and  to  purchase  a  lot  and  begin 
the  erection  of  a  new  house.  They  expect  to  have  the  new  house 
ready  by  next  Autumn  and  desired  a  promise  from  me  that  I 
would  dedicate  it  for  them.  I  felt  glad  to  know  that  my  words 
had  at  least  done  one  good  thing. 

He  referred  to  the  town  of  Granville — on  the  day  before 
reaching  the  town — as  "the  scene  of  my  impending  agtmy." 
The  words  describe  his  keen  solicitude  about  the  approaching 
meetings.    To  his  daughter  One  he  wrote: 

"Few  know  what  deep  anxieties  fill  a  minister's  soul  when 
he  b^ins  a  work  of  the  kind  to  which  I  go.    £ven  the  mAking 


D.qil.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  GRANVILLE  MEETINGS         397 

ami  preaohing  of  a  sermon,  OD  a  commcKi  occaaoa,  is  a  etrain 
wliich  fefw  evem.  think  of  and  yet  under  which  every  conscient- 
ious man  Buffers  and  when  a  man  finds  him  self  called  to  master 
a  great  occasion — with  varied  and  countless  obstacles  in  the 
way — he  must  demre  solitude  and  get  it. 

"But  let  me  not  be  too  serious.  You  might  suspeet  that  I 
have  etru^;lefl  witinn,  and  acainat  such  self  exposures  I  have 
ever  fought.    I  Imow  what  it  is  to  tread  the  wine  press  alone." 

He  nearly  always  had  pangs  and  wrestlings  of  soul  at  the 
beginning  of  his  revival  campugns.  Hia  evangelistic  meetings 
were  battles  in  which  he  plotted  against  the  devil's  forces, 
and  aimed  for  a  big  victory  at  the  final  onset.  Such  a  victory — 
rich  and  complete — came  at  Granville.  At  first  the  conBict 
was  heavy.    On  the  22nd  he  wrote  me: 

"The  leaders  of  the  Devil's  host  are  not  yet  ready  to  run  up 
the  white  flag.  I  am  in  great  agony  about  the  fate  of  our  work 
at  the  University.  The  interest  there  is  immense,  but  the 
opposition,  while  respectful  and  good  mannered,  is  hard  to 
subdue.  I  stay  over  Sunday  and  am  in  for  a  general  charge 
on  the  Devil's  Towers." 

On  the  251^  he  writes  to  Orie :  "Yesterday  was  thrilling.  The 
ringleaders  of  eon  in  the  Univerdty  came  out  last  mght." 
When  the  end  came  it  was  estimated  that  the  number  of  con- 
veimcois  was  about  260  and  the  clomng  scenes  were  pentecostal. 
But  tiiis  triumph  came  only  after  a  hard  fought  campaign. 

"For  neariy  a  week"  he  writes  "I  beat  the  air  without  a 
convert,  without  a  tear  and  with  nature's  thermometer  at 
about  fiifteen  below  zero  and  the  thennometer  of  grace,  a  good 
deal  lower.  I  almost  believe  that  I  would  have  been  requested 
to  leave,  if  there  had  been  enou^  vitality  in  the  meeting  to 
organize  public  sentiment  on  that  point." 

In  his  meetings  the  storm  was  usually  slow  in  gathering. 
His  greatest  meetings  contained  climaxes  when  the  spiritual  , 
forces   seemed   suddenly   to    culminate.     In   the    Granville 
campugn,  after  the  first  week  of  apparently  vfun  effort,  he 
writes:    "Tonight  was  a  ^iritual  cloudburBt  and  shook  things 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


398  A  PRESENT  FROM  THE  UNIVERSITY 

to  the  center.  It  was  the  first  call  that  I  had  nutde  for  dement 
strations  and  it  was  great.  The  outlook  is  wonderfully  fiae 
and  my  soul  is  full  of  hope.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  the  Lord 
faaa  great  tbii^  for  us  in  store."  Wheu  Dr.  Hatcher  left 
Granville  the  preddent  of  the  University  said  to  him:  "Dr. 
Hatcher  our  University  wishee  to  present  you  with  some  spedal 
token  of  our  high  appreciation ;  tell  ua  what  it  shall  be".  "Noth- 
ing for  myself,"  replied  Dr.  Hatcher,  "but  I  will  moition  a 
^t  that  I  will  accept  and  that  is  a  scholarship,  in  your  Univer- 
dty,  for  a  bright  needy  boy  in  Vli^ia.  The  result  was  that 
a  Fluvanna  County  young  man,  the  son  of  a  parents  who  were 
struggling  with  great  sacrifices  to  educate  their  many  boys, 
went  to  Denison  Univeraty  for  his  education,  and  last  session 
this  same  young  man,  now  an  accomplished  christian  scholar, 
was  at  tiie  bead  of  an  institution  of  learning  in  Florida. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


ADDRESS   ON   THE       EXPEBIHENTAL  BVIDEKCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

TBODOHTFCLNE8S  OF  OTHERS.      VARIED  lOURNEYB  AND  LABORS. 

REVIVAL  HEETINQS  AT  TOLEDO,  OHIO.      EXALTATION  OF  THE 

SnPKRNATDRAL, 

He  took  &  dip  into  the  metaphysical  waters  at  this  time.  He 
delivered  an  address  at  Bichmond  Ckillege  on  the  "The  Ex- 
perimental Evidences  of  Christianity"  in  which  he  dlscuased 
the  subject  from  the  scientific  rather  than  the  popolar  point 
of  view.  In  hia  public  discourses  he  did  not  usually  venture 
into  the  philosophical  field.  Not  that  his  thinViTig  was  super- 
ficial. In  fact,  in  preaching  he  went  to  the  bottom  of  his 
text  and  of  his  theme;  but  be  generally  chose  the  simpler 
and  the  popular  forms  of  expreaslon.  He  would  compass  the 
subject  in  his  own  thinkii^,  would  view  it  in  its  relations  and 
could  have  ea«ly  clothed  his  thoughts  in  scholarly  and  meta- 
physical garb,  and  this  be  would  occasionally  do — as  in  the 
case  of  his  above  mentioned  address  before  the  College.  But  the 
bulk  of  his  speech  was  not  aft^*  this  fashion.  Hia  audiences 
were  generally  cosmopolitan  and  he  selected  tiie  ample,  and 
ofttimea  pictorial  method  of  address.  The  consequence  was 
that  he  was  understood  by  the  unlearned  and  by  the  children. 
A  little  boy,  bi  another  city,  who  had  complained  that  be 
never  liked  to  listen  to  his  mother's  pastor  because  he  could 
never  understand  what  he  was  talking  about  came  home  one 
Sunday  night  after  Dr.  Hatcher  had  preached  and  said  "Oh, 
mother  I  could  understand  every-word  that  Dr.  Hatcher  said" 
He  thus  writes:  "To  study  a  subject  to  its  core,  dig  up  every- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


400     RICHMOND  COLLEGE  ADDRESS 

ttting  about  it  down  to  its  roota  and  subject  the  result  to  a  dis- 
criminating  study,  picking  out  the  salient  points,  putting  it  in 
strong  and  vital  words,  having  as  your  governing  principle  in 
its  delivery  the  application  of  its  doctrines  straight  home  to 
all  hearte, — that  ia  no  light  task  but  that  is  the  preaching 
that  will  so  impress  the  people  that  it  will  make  the  children 
listen." 

His  Bicbmond  Collie  address  showed  that  he  could  subject 
a  great  theme  to  a  compFehenuve  analyds  and  could  play  the 
scholar  and  the  scientist.  In  fact  it  would  be  difficult  to  tell, 
whether  he  was  greater  in  brain  or  in  heart.  His  life  was  so 
full  of  kindness  that  we  are  tempted  in  describing  him,  to 
say  that  he  was  a  man  of  great  soul  and  to  forget  that  it  could 
be  said  with  equal  truth  of  him  that  he  was  a  man  of  great 
intellect.  There  was  both  quickness  and  poise  in  his  mental 
activities.  His  field  of  vision  was  clear  and  large.  He  had  the 
power  of  seeing  a  thing  not  only  in  itself  but  in  its  wide  re- 
lations, and  his  many  bright  sayings  were  due  to  his  ability 
to  see  relationships  which  lay  beyond  the  ordinary  range  of 
vifflon.  Dr.  Masters  says  "Probably  Southern  Baptist  have 
not  produced  a  richer  personality  than  his.  We  are  sure  that 
we  have  not  produced  one  who  combined  in  hiniself  at  once 
more  of  the  elements  of  intellectual  greatness  and  catholicity 
in  his  affections."  His  mind  suffered  very  little  waste  by  self 
consciousness,  or  introspection.  It  focussed  its  enei^ee  on  the 
subject  in  band  and  worked  with  singular  indepoidenoe.  The 
reader  has  been  kept  waiting  at  the  door  of  the  Collie  address 
that  he  might  be  reminded,  in  the  above  d^resssion,  that 
this  book  is  the  story  of  a  great  mind  as  well  as  of  a  great  heart. 

The  College  address  came  in  a  series  of  addresses  in  which 
Dr.  Moses  D.  Hoge,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  Presbyterian 
ministers  of  the  South,  was  one  of  the  speakers.  A  brilliant 
audience,  drawn  from  the  College  circles  and  from  the  d^ 
of  Richmond  greeted  the  speaker  of  the  evening. 

"It  was  the  crowning  address  of  hia  life,"  writes  my  mother.  "1 
never  knew  him  to  bestow  more  pains  or  to  deliver  a  speech  bet- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


RICHMOND  COLLEGE  ADDRESS      401 

ter.  He  was  thoroughly  himself,  was  at  ease  and  had  perfect  com- 
mand of  his  subject.  Many  of  the  preachers  came  up  to  express 
themselves  very  strongly  in  favor  of  it.  Drs.  Mitchell,  Nelson, 
Ryland  and  Boatwri^t  said  to  him  and  to  me  that  it  was  the 
b^  of  the  series — as  far  as  argument  and  real  thot^t  were 

ooncemed.    Dr.  had  more  learning  and  eloquence, 

Prof.  M said,  but  your  father's  more  argument  and  a 

better  line  of  treatment — showed  more  original  thinking. 

"It  produced  a  great  impres^on.  Dr.  Kyland  sent  me  some 
flowers  from  the  platform  with  a  note  saying  that  he  sent  It  in 
appreciation  of  his  admirable  address." 

Regarding  the  address  he  thus  writes  me; 

"My  College  perfonnance  did  not  satisfy  me  by  a  bow's 
shot  but  I  atleast  got  to  the  end  and  pos^bly  some  thought 
that  I  came  near  never  accomplishing  that.  But  I  did  get 
through.  My  audience  was  not  big  but  the  night  was  suf- 
ficiency grim  and  threatening  to  explain  any  empty  seats  that 
were  around.  Of  course  the  regulation  hand^ake  and  the  smile 
of  approval  came  to  time  at  the  close,  but  I  did  not  apply  the 
thermometer  to  ascertain  the  warmth  of  the  congratulations. 
Men  hke  Mitchell,  Boatwright  and  Winston  were  frank  enough 
to  say  that  mine  was  the  fairest  of  the  addresses — it  recognised 
the  sincerity  of  the  objector  and  sought  to  convert  him.  It 
treated  doubt  as  a  friend  and  not  as  an  enemy. 

"My  chureh  surprised  me  yesterday  morning  by  requesting 
me  to  repeat  the  address  in  the  Tabernacle  next  Sunday  night 
and  I  have  consented  to  do  so.  I  think  it  is  intended  to  m^e 
it  a  sort  of  high  night  in  our  wigwam." 

There  have  been  found  among  his  papers  three  8^>arate 
manuscripts  of  this  address, — each  of  them  showing  bis  cara- 
fulness  in  preparation.  That  the  reader  may  gain  an  idea  as 
to  his  method  of  working  upon  his  sentences,  I  quote  here  his 
opaiii^  par^raph  as  it  apperared  in  his  three  manuscripts. 

In  the  first  manuscript: 

"The  object  of  this  paper  is  to  deal  with  the  experimental 
evidences  of  Qiriatianity.  It  is  intended  to  take  the  unbeliever 
into  the  workshop  of  the  Nazarene  and  invite  him  to  examine 
the  productions  of  his  skill.  It  has  been  prepared  with  the 
desire  atleast  of  bringing  out  the  phenomena  of  the  truly 
christianiEed  soul  and  subjecting  it  to  critical  examination. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


402     RICHMOND  COLLEGE  ADDRESS 

In  the  second  manuscript: 

"Tonight  I  am  to  mvite  this  audience  to  turn  thar  thoughte 
to  the  Tree  of  Ijfe  and  to  study  the  manner  of  fruit  which 
it  bears.  We  will  vimt  the  workshop  of  the  Nasarene  Car- 
penter uid  examine  the  products  of  his  skill.  We  will  arreet 
those  who  wear  the  insignia  of  the  gospel  and,  putting  them  on 
the  stand,  require  them  to  declare  to  us  what  the  Lord  has  done 
for  their  souls." 

This  second  pan^raph  la  a  distinct  advance  upon  the  first. 
The  first  is  the  speech  of  the  scientist.  He  simply  s^rs  that  his 
discourse  will  critically  examine  "the  phenomena  of  the  truly 
christianized  soul."  That  is  sufficient  for  an  audience  of  sdoi- 
tista.  But  the  speaker  will  face  a  diSeroit  audience  and  so  in  the 
second  manuscript  the  scientist  turns  artist  and  uses  his  brush 
to  pfunt  the  same  thought,  aa  he  asks  his  audience  to  look  upon 
the  Tree  of  life  and  upon  the  Christian  on  the  witness  stand. 
But  even  this  did  not  satisfy  the  speaker  and  so  he  brings  out 
his  brush  again. 

In  the  third  manuscript: 

"Tonight  we  are  to  gaze  upon  the  Tree  of  Life  and  observe 
what  manner  of  fruit  it  bears.  We  are  to  enter  the  spiritual 
workshop  of  the  Nazareue  and  examine  the  productions  of  his 
skill.  We  must  apprehend  those  who  wear  the  insignia  of  the 
Gospel,  hale  them  to  the  bar  and  require  them  to  tell  what  God 
has  done  for  their  souls.  In  plamer  terms  we  are  to  invade  the 
secresies — the  penetralia— of  the  christian  soul,  collect  the 
phenomena  of  its  new  life  and  give  to  them  a  candid  and  critical 
examination." 

Be  next  states  the  plan  of  his  address: 

"First  we  must  fix  definitely  what  we  mean  by  Christianity; 
next  we  must  ascertain  the  process  by  which  Christianity 
enters  the  soul  and  finally,  and  chiefly,  we  must  study  the 
result  of  the  Gospel's  entrance  into  union  with  the  soul  and 
determine  its  evidential  value  in  favor  of  the  truth  of  Cliri»- 
tianity." 

First,  he  defines  Christianity  as  "a  religion  (unfolded  in  the 
Bible)  which  reveals  God  in  his  majesty,  truth  and  justice; 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


RICHMOND  COLLEGE  ADDRESS      403 

man  ia  bis  moral  and  spiritual  wreck  and  peril;  Jesus  Christ 
in  his  compasEDon,  becoming  the  Sacrifice  and  Savior  of  the 
people.  This  religioD  is  called  Christianity  and  the  history 
which  brings  it  to  us  is  called  the  gospel." 

Sectoidly,  he  conmders  tiie  process  by  which  the  gospel 
enters  the  soul: 

"The  gospel  moves  upon  the  soul  with  the  majestic  courage 
of  an  invading  army.  It  seta  itself  down  at  the  gateway  of  the 
soul  and  demands  admission.  But  it  does  not  storm  the  gates 
and  force  its  way.    How  then  does  it  get  in?" 

Be  declares  that  it  enters  the  soul  in  the  act  of  repentance 
and  faith.  Repentance  he  defines  as:  "a  sober  and  deliberate 
decision  to  turn  away  from  all  sin  and  that,  out  of  respect  for 
the  will  and  honor  of  God." 

Faith  he  defines  as;  "that  edict  of  the  will  requiring  the 
gates  of  the  soul  to  be  opened  for  the  admisaon  of  the  gospel 
and  it  is  done  at  the  suggestion  of  the  heart." 

Thirdly,  he  conaders  the  evidential  value  of  tiiis  christian 
experience  and  he  proceeds  to  show  that  Chnstiaoity  can 
stand  the  most  rigid  scientific  test.  He  points  to  the  fruits  of 
Christianity  as  seen  in  a  regenerated  heart  as  proof  of  the  truth 
of  Christianity.  Christianity,  he  says,  shows  what  it  is  by 
what  it  does  in  the  human  soul.  He  next  enters  the  field  of 
christian  experience,  calls  upon  christians  to  tell  what  God 
has  done  for  their  souls,  and  this  testmony  of  Christians  is  the 
scientific  phenomena  with  which  to  build  up  the  proof  in  favor 
of  Christianity.  The  new  heart  and  life,  the  new  motives,  tiie 
new  ideals,  the  new  spirit,  the  new  joy  and  love — the^e,  says 
the  speaker,  are  the  scientific  data  upon  which  to  construct 
the  evidence. 

It  is  true,  says  the  speaker,  that  the  only  witnesses  to  this  data 
are  the  adherents  of  the  religion  but  regarding  these  witnesses 
hesE^: 

"Rank  them  as  average  men  and  wcnnen  and  gauge 
their  testimony  aocordingly  and  remember  that  the  testimony 
borne  by  christians  as  to  their  inner  ^[periences  of  the  power 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


404       RICHMOND  COLLEGE  ADDRESS 

of  the  gospel  is  rraidered  doubly  impreaave  by  its  liannony, 
identity  and  spontaneity.  .  .  It  is  testimony  from  dif- 
fcTQQt  classes,  from  various  countries,  from  long  separated 
ages  and  yet  it  bears  witness  to  the  very  same  spiritual  pheno- 
mena. .  .  In  this  testimony  there  is  included  the  testimony 
of  millions  who  had  to  repudiate  their  experiences  or  seal  them 
with  thm  lives  and  some  of  them  in  moments  of  fear  recanted 
and  were  set  free  and  then,  with  the  revived  sense  of  God's 
saving  power,  returned  to  their  persecutors,  reaffirmed  their 
taiih  and  freely  died  for  their  Redeemer." 

He  then  declares  that  an  unregenerate  scientist  cannot  pass 
upon  these  spiritual  phenomena.  He  may  subject  to  the 
microscope  his  physical  material;  he  may  try  the  experiraices 
of  the  mind  by  psycological  tests,  but  he  must  have  the  spirit- 
ual Eye  to  detect  and  pass  upon  spiritual  phenomena.  Spiritual 
thii^  are  spiritually  discerned.    The  sdentist  objects  to  this. 

"  'Oh';  says  the  objector,  'you  ask  me  to  be  interested  ia  an 
unknown  world.  I  know  nothing  of  the  spiritual  world'.  True; 
but  your  ignorance  does  not  prove  that  there  is  no  such  worid. 
America  was  long  an  unknown  world  and  men  were  actually 
burned  for  believing  there  was  such  a  world.  In  spite  of  the 
unbelief  of  some  men,  there  is  a  spiritual  worid,  and  some  may 
be  burned  for  not  bejieving  it. 

"In  the  spiritual  Kingdom  the  christian  is  the  expert  and  the 
scientist  is  the  layman.  The  christian  has  been  experimenting 
with  the  gospel  and  has  tested  its  principles  and  has  just  aa 
much  right  to  claim  a  hearing  from  the  scientist  on  religion  as 
the  scientist  baa  to  claim  a  hearing  from  the  christian  on 
science.    Why  should  they  have  strife.    They  are  brethren. 

"The  Go^>el  challenges  trial.  Almost  the  first  public  word 
that  fell  from  Jesus'  Ups  waa  'Come  and  see*.  The  gospel  hands 
US  its  records,  with  its  history,  its  doctrines  and  principles  and 
asks  UB  to  examine  them.  If  a  man  has  a  new  plough,  let 
him  not  lecture  on  ploughing,  but  let  him  plough.  If  a  man 
has  a  flying  machine  let  him  not  carry  it  to  an  exposition  but  let 
him  get  in  and  fly  and  then  he  may  invite  others  to  ride  with 
him.    .    .    Never  was  a  more  profound  or  scientific  word  ever 

rkeu  than  that  of  Jesus  when  he  sud  that  if  any  man  will 
his  will  that  he  shiUl  know  of  the  doctrine  whether  it  bs  of 
Ood. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


"CABBBY  HALL"  406 

"I  stand  tonight  aa  one  of  the  crew  on  the  deck  of  the  old  ship 
of  Zion  and  throw  out  the  gang-board  and  invite  you  to  come  on. 
She  has  felt  the  blow  of  many  a  mad  wave;  she  has  be«i  tossed 
by  many  a  gale,  but  she  has  never  missed  a  coimection,  nor 
lost  a  passenger.  As  our  fathers  used  to  wag.  'She  has  landed 
numy  thousands  and  can  land  as  many  more.' " 

On  March  12th  my  mother  writes  me: 

"Your  father  has  heeia  more  than  usually  concerned  about 
the  conversion  of  the  people  lately.  I  see  with  great  satis- 
faction a  great  difference  in  him  in  his  spirit  while  building  this 
<diurch  from  what  it  was  in  rearing  the  other  one.  Then  he 
thought  and  talked  so  much  about  the  buildii^.  Now  he  talks 
little  about  that  and  talks  as  much  more  about  the  work  the 
church  ought  to  do.  He  preached  a  rousing  sermon  yesterday 
morning  to  the  young  men  about  taking  the  old  ones'  places — 
said  the  number  of  old  ones  was  so  very  small — ^hardly  any  gray 
heads. 

"Another  thing  that  a^tates  the  mind  of  '608  W.  Grace 
St.'  is  'what  shall  be  the  name  of  our  country  home?'  Careby 
is  the  name  of  the  ancestral  home  of  the  Hatchers  in  England. 
Some  say  'Careby  Hall';  others  say  'Melrose  Heights',  'Hatcher 
Castle',  'Ivy  Castle',  etc.  What  say  you?  Your  father  likes 
'Sterling  Heights';  not  many  others  do." 

"Careby  Hall"  was  the  name  finally  chosen.  He  thus  writes 
about  his  new  home: 

"I  expect  to  go  to  Fork  Union  next  Thursday  to  see  the 
foundation  laid  for  that  ever  grand  villa  of  which  the  papers 
talk  so  impressively  and  so  impertinently." 

His  orphan  boy,  Coleman,  was  still  Uving  in  his  home  and  was 
attending  Richmond  Collie.  He  wrote  him  from  Wake 
Forest  College  where  he  was  holding  his  second  revival  cam- 
paign: 

"Dear  Coleman, — My  heart  is  full  of  tenderness  for  you 
and  I  long  to  see  you  become  a  strong  and  faithful  young  man. 
I  am  senatively  anxious  for  you  to  do  well.  .  .  I  must  learn 
to  be  more  patient  with  you,  .  There  is  much  in  you  to 
please  me  and  to  excite  my  hope  in  your  future. 
"Your  faithful  friend, 

"W.  B.  Hatcher." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


406      THOUGHTFULNESS  OF  OTHERS 

With  pen  and  band  and  tongue  he  was  busy  during  these 
Sprii^  days  and  while  his  pastorate  clwmed  him  for  most  of  his 
time  yet  he  was  ever  and  anon  nmiuiig  out  into  tiie  state 
to  perform  some  ministerial  service.  Regarding  bis  buildii^ 
campiugn,  he  writes:  "The  workmen  hover  around  me  in  a 
mamier  which  terrifies  me  unless  I  can  soothe  them  with  a 
check." 

In  arrsngii^  for  his  trip  <ui  May  5th  to  Wilmington,  N.  C,  to 
attend  the  meeting  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  & 
little  incident  occured  that  showed  his  thoughtfulnees  of  others. 
He  told  his  dai^hter  to  prepare  a  large  luncheon — enough  for 
many  persons.  He  knew  that  the  coaches  would  be  filled 
with  ministers  enroute  for  the  Convention  and  when  the  lunch 
hour  arrived  on  tiie  ttsin  he  opened  up  his  large  box  of  eatables 
and  acted  as  host  for  a  goodly  circle  of  preachers  who  "lunched 
with  Dr.  Hatcher  that  day."  His  thoughtfuln^a  <^  others 
showed  itself  not  only  in  givii^;  pleasure  to  those  around  him 
but  also  in  ipving  encouragement  and  comfort.  For  example, 
Rev.  W.  W.  Reynolds  says  ih&t  one  Summer  he  made  a  speech 
on  H<ane  Miscdons  at  a  district  Association  when  Dr.  Hatcher 
was  in  the  audience.  A  few  days  afterwards  Mr.  Reynolds' 
father  rec^ved  a  letter  from  Dr.  Hatcher  telling  of  his  pleasure 
in  hearing  his  son  speak  so  well  on  Home  Miauons  at  the 
Association.  Mr.  Reynolds  says  the  letter  was  couched  in  such 
kindly  phrase  that  it  greatiy  cheered  his  father.  He  was  re- 
turning with  a  tr^  load  of  ministers  and  li^men  from  the 

meeting  of  the  Soutiiem  BaptJst  Convention  at and 

one  of  the  brilliant  young  professors  at  the Seminary 

had  recently  died.  It  was  a  great  shock  to  all  and  Dr.  Hatcher 
engineered  a  little  collection  among  the  del^ates  in  the  cars 
to  purchase  a  watch  to  present  to  the  stricken  widow  as  a 
token  to  her  of  their  deep  sympathy.  "Oh,  that  Dr.  Hatcher 
were  living;  he  would  know  how  to  console  us,"  said  a  parent 
soon  after  his  death.  The  parent  had  just  had  a  son  and 
daughter  killed  in  an  automobile  accident. 

He  vent  tq  Wilmington  to  the  Southern  Baptist  ConventitnL 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


"THE  HOME  COMING"  407 

where  he  said  he  was  exhausted  almost  "to  the  point  of 
collapse"  by  the  heavy  denominational  burdens  that  were  upon 
him,  chief  oi  which  was  the  "Whitsitt  Controversy",  which 
matter  will  be  considered  at  a  later  time.  He  delivered  the 
Commencement  Address  at  Georgetown  College  in  Kentucky 
the  first  part  of  June,  his  subject  being  "The  Road  Builders,'* 
One  of  his  striking  atatemeots  in  the  address  was:  "The  pubhc 
highway  is  the  work  of  the  pathfinder  brought  to  perfection." 

Mr.  Henry  Schmelz,  of  Hampton,  writes: 

"Dear  Dr.  Hatcher, — Of  course  whatever  we  may  have 
done  or  shall  do  in  the  future  for  the  Orphanage  the  privU^e 
of  so  doing  will  be  attributable  and  due  to  you.  On  second 
thought  I  have  determined  to  send  the  picture  [portrait  of 
his  wife]  to  Richmond  College  in  your  care." 

He  was  elected  at  this  time  to  succeed  Dr.  J.  L.  M.  Curry 
as  preddent  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Richmond  College. 
He  went  to  Brooklyn  to  speak  at  the  funeral  of  Dr.  F.  M. 
Ellis.  In  clofflng  his  address  he  looked  down  upon  the  coffin 
that  contuned  the  sleepmg  dust  of  his  bdoved  friend  and  in 
toider  tones,  which  those  who  heard  him  will  not  easily  foi^t, 
he  said:   "Good  bye,  Frank;  we'll  meet  again  in  the  morning." 

Later  in  his  life  he  wrote  a  book  of  reminiscences  in  which 
the  last  chapter  was  entitled  "the  Home  Coming", — ^which 
has  been  pronounced  a  classic.  In  this  chapter  he  paints  the 
picture  of  a  plain,  httle  country  home  at  M(»eley's  JuoctJon, 
in  Chesterfield  County  and  of  the  joy  of  the  mother  every  year 
over  the  home  coming  of  her  railroad  boys  for  the  Christmas 
reunion,  and  of  the  immense  preparations,  by  that  mother, 
in  the  kitchen  weeks  beforehand  for  that  glad  season.  I  was 
with  him  on  that  day  when  the  old  man,  Mr.  Lloyd  Phaup,  told 
us  the  ample,  but  thrilling  story  of  the  Christmas  home  coming, 
as  we  walked  up  the  track  from  his  httle  engme  house  to  his 
home.  Several  years  had  now  passed  smce  that  visit,  and  tiie 
Christmas  hinne  coming  of  those  days  could  never  again  be 
repeated. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


408        ASSOCIATION  AT  ROANOKE 

"By  the  way"  he  writea  me  on  July  5th  "old  Uoyd  Pbaup  at 
Mosdey'B  lost  his  wife — a  fearful  loss  to  him.  It  occured  quite 
a  while  ^o  but  a  word  to  him  would  be  balm.  It  ia  too  hot  to 
visit  but  you  can  write  consoling  notes." 

Many  were  the  "consoling  notes"  which,  during  his  long  USe, 
he  sent  to  those  in  trouble. 

"Thousands  of  things  press  upon  me"  he  writes  his  wife  on 
October  4tb,  and  <m  October  27th,  he  writea  me: 

"Here  I  am  happy,  poor,  in  debt  and  wuting  for  good 
weather." 

He  sets  hia  heart  on  se^i^  two  young  preachers  at  Roanoke 
at  the  meeting  of  the  General  Associataon,  and  thus  writes 
to  one  of  these  (Rev.  R.  H.  Winfree)  on  Nov.  14th; 

"Mr  Pebbless  Robert, — I  am  just  from  Brookneal.  Spent 
two  nights  with  John  B.  Williams  and  we  f^ly  talked  the 
buttons  off  your  waistcoat.  He  longs  to  see  you  and  is  goinjg 
to  Roanoke.  There  you  must  be  also.  I  am  writing  Baker  to 
bulge  your  pocket  wi^  some  of  Uncle  Sam's  best  loose  change. 
Get  into  your  collar  and  go.  I  long  to  see  you. 
"Very  Lovingly, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

He  attended  the  meeting  of  the  General  Association  in  Roanoke 
in  November  and  at  such  meetings  he  was  pulled  about  by  the 
brethren  for  all  manner  of  purposes,— to  secure  his  champion- 
ship for  their  cause  before  the  Association,  to  gain  his  counsel 
regarding  a  resolution,  or  some  problem  in  their  pastorate,  to 
engage  him  for  a  lecture  or  a  meeting  or  a  dedication;  many 
simply  wanted  the  pleasure  of  grasping  his  hand  and  having 
an  effectionate  chat  with  him.  "I  am  working  my  soul  and 
body  to  pieces"  he  writes  his  wife  from  Roanoke.  "I  start 
to  Ohio  this  afternoon." 

This  Ohio  trip  meant  another  meeting  in  that  state, —  this 
time  at  Toledo.  He  stopped  at  Granville,  the  scene  of  his 
glorious  meetings  of  the  preceoding  winter,  and  preached  at  the 
Univeraty,  "The  pleasures  of  that  reunion"  he  writes  "amoim- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TOLEDO  MEETINGS  409 

ted  to  rapture  and  the  whole  morning  took  on  the  form  of  a 
spontaneous  reception." 

He  began  his  Toledo  meetings  with  the  pastor  Dr.  Emory 
W.  Hunt  and  wrote  tliat  he  commenced  with  "a  mountun  of 
anxiety"  on  his  heart,  and  on  the  Sunday  he  writes:  "I  was 
really  never  is  such  an  agony  of  concern  and  anxiety."  An 
interesting  climax  came  to  his  meetings.  Up  to  Sunday  Dec- 
cember  7th  it  had  seemed  impossible  to  dislodge  the  uncon- 
verted and  so  critical  seemed  the  situation  that  far  away  in 
Kichmond  the  Grace  Street  Church  was  asked  at  the  Sunday 
moming  service  to  make  special  prayer  for  the  meeting  in 
Toledo.  That  night  the  following  telegram  was  read  to  the 
Grace  Street  congregation : 

"Toledo,  Ohio,  Dec.  7th, 

"Thirty  conversions  this  moming — many  heads  of  families. 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

In  writing  about  that  Sunday  he  said:  "We  had  one  day  of 
Pentecostal  glory  in  Toledo  and  the  people  trembled  under 
the  touch  of  God's  finger." 

Who  can  explain  the  wonderful  manifestalJonB  m  such 
meetings?  It  was  not  the  ^ithusiaam  awakened  by  bis  sermons. 
He  would  ofttimes  preach  his  greatest  sermons  without  such 
manifestations.  In  fact,  he  would  discourage  mere  emotional 
outbursts.  It  was  the  power  from  Heavai  which  he  always 
wuted  for  in  his  meetings, — a  power  that  would  show  itself 
among  the  people  and  instead  of  seeking  to  produce  it  by  his 
preaching  he  seemed  to  feel  that  until  the  power  came  his 
preaching — even  his  best — would  be  unavaiHng.  I  have  already 
written  of  how  at  the  close  of  the  first  service  in  a  revival  meet- 
ing in  Chesterfield  when  his  congregation  seemed  wroi^ht  up 
with  great  emotion,  he  let  the  emotion  spend  itself  rather  than 
avwl  himself  of  it.  He  seemed  to  think  that  while  that  expres- 
uon  of  holy  feeling  was  good  yet  there  was  something  higher 
and  better  which  had  not  yet  come  upon  them  and  which 
he  hoped  would  come.    In  speakii^  about  rel^ous  seatuneu- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


410   EXALTATION  OF  THE  SUPERNATUHAL 

talism  he  stud:  "Sentimentalism  is  an  excess  of  feeling  and  the 
riot  of  passion.  Sentimentalism  has  played  a  disastrous  part 
in  the^hristian  world.  It  has  filled  our  churches  with  a  religioa 
of  feeUng.  It  has  drifted  us  often  to  folly  and  fanaticism.  It 
has  made  our  revivals  consist  in  ezdtement,  our  enterprises 
to  depend  on  our  humors  and  our  gifts  to  hang  upon  our  im- 
pulses." Finally  in  his  Toledo  meeting  the  heavenly  power 
came  and  he  thus  writes: 

"People  trembled  under  the  touch  of  God's  finger.  A  lady  and 
geiitlemen,  who  were  present,  not  members  of  the  church, 
walked  away  afterwari^,  she  saying  that  she  felt  profoundly 
and  diatinctily  that  the  power  of  God  was  on  the  people,  and 
he  criticizing  the  meeting  most  bitterly  and  yet  ccmfessing 
that  he  was  compelled  to  hold  to  the  pew  with  all  his  might 
to  keep  from  going  forward.  It  looked  as  if  at  the  close  of  the 
sermon  a  holy  breeze  from  the  hills  of  the  heavenly  Canaan 
blew  down  upon  the  people  and  the  effect  was  simply  inde- 
scribable. Almost  instantly  men  and  women,  many  of  them 
heads  of  faraiUea,  began  to  push  out  into  the  ai^es  of  the  church 
and  to  stream  down  to  the  front.  One  gentleman,  as  if  Satan 
was  making  his  last  struggles  to  hold  him — a  man  known 
throughout  the  city  and  h^d  in  deserved  esteem — vowed  that 
morning  never  to  take  any  public  stand  for  Christ  and  declared 
that  if  any  one  spoke  to  him  he  would  leave  the  church  never 
to  return.  He  was  about  the  first  t«  take  the  offered  hand  of  a 
friend  and  come  out  for  Ms  Lord  and  Redeemer. 

"The  church  stood  in  awful  silence  and  with  faces  wet  with 
unwiped  tears  they  saw  the  sight.  From  that  time  we  had  a 
new  atmosphere.  People  spoke  a  new  language.  They  sang 
with  a  new  fervor;  they  were  clothed  with  a  new  strength  and 
found  it  easy  to  put  aside  business  or  pleasure  for  the  Master's 
work." 

Such  was  the  power  for  which  he  waited  while  he  preached 
and  prayed.  If  I  were  asked  to  name  one  of  his  greatest  con- 
tributions to  the  times  in  which  he  lived  I  would  be  tempted  to 
say  it  was  his  exaltation  of  the  supernatural  in  revival  meetii^s. 
His  appeal  was  to  the  God  of  battles.  His  meetings  were 
triumphs  of  divine  grace  and  monumental  witnesses  of  the 
fact  that  in  this  modem  day,  as  well  as  m  the  olden  time,  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TOLEDO  411 

power  <^  God's  r^eneratiog  grace  was  at  the  di^wsal  of  Tub 
people.  It  is  hardly  possible  for  the  hunuui  heart  to  leach 
much  loftier  heights  of  ecstasy  than  marked  some  of  these 
"climax"  days  in  his  meetings.  With  mothers  and  wives 
rejoidng  over  the  conversion  of  their  sons  and  husbands;  with 
chrisUans  tasting  afresh  the  joys  of  thdr  heavenly  hopes; 
with  salvation  flowing  like  a  river  in  theu*  midst  and  with  the 
peace  of  God  filling  their  souls  with  light  and  joy — ^Ah  it  was 
a  foregleam  of  heavenly  happiness  and  many  were  the  days  in 
his  long  life  when  he  stood  on  such  mountun  peaks. 

He  writes  an  account  of  his  Toledo  meetings  in  the  Herald 
cloEong  with  a  reference  to  his  return  to  Richmond  from  Toledo: 

"When  on  Tuesday  morning  the  frozen  souled  porter  on  the 
sleeper  shook  me  out  of  my  morning  repose  and  ordered  me, — 
as  only  a  porter  can, — to  'dress'  and  I  ran  up  my  curtain  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  sacred  soil  and  heard  the  conductor  on  the 
outside  cry  out  'AshcaJce'  [a  station  near  Richmond]  I  felt 
that  I  was  getting  home.  That  word  'Ashcake'  got  my  exact 
rai^e.  It  told  of  childhood  and  reminded  me  of  my  raising. 
It  quietly  lifted  me  down  from  the  glory  of  'dining  out'  and 
sobered  me  up  for  the  impending  realities." 

He  had  left  a  part  of  his  heart  in  Toledo, —  as  is  seen  from 
the  following  letter  to  the  Toledo  pastor,  Dr.  E.  W.  Himt, 
which  he  wrote  after  he  reached  home. 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Dec.  14th,  1897. 

"Mt  Dear  Bbother  Hunt, — I  struck  Richmcoid  on  time 
and  received  quite  a  radiant  welcome  from  my  home  tribe.  I 
found  the  weather  of  the  most  dismal  character,  though  it  is 
honest  weather.  It  does  not  practice  deceptions  on  us  as  the 
Toledo  weather  did.    It  has  set  up  to  be  bad  and  is  doing  it. 

"The  wedding  occurs  at  6  F.  M.  to  day  and  is  to  be  quite 
imposing.  Owing  to  the  cruelty  of  the  trains  the  bridal  pair 
wiU  depart  before  the  supper  is  served.  I  am  pleased  that  the 
blissful  couple  will  leave  me  and  the  supper  behind.  It  is  my 
purpose  to  keep  myself  and  the  supper  together  so  far  as  it  is 
practicable. 

"But  nonsense, — I  would  trade  off  six  marriage  suppers  for 
one  moment  in  Ashland  Avenue  with  the  loved  ones  I  left  there. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


412         LETTEE  TO  DR.  E.  W.  H0NT 

I  called  on  Dr.  Laeher  [at  a  stop  over  in  Cindimatti)  yesterd^ 
morning  and  he  gave  me  a  chamung  welcome.  At  the  pastors' 
Conference  I  was  reduced  to  conscious  shame  by  the  prepos- 
terous manner  in  which  they  lionized  me.  They  dragged  me  out 
for  a  speech  and  I  added  one  more  future  to  my  great  record 
as  a  failure  maker. 

"But  I  was  sincerely  grateful  for  such  consideration  and  it 
must  in  part  have  been  accorded  me  in  view  of  the  fact  that  I 
had  been  with  you.  It  was  delightful  to  hear  the  commendatory 
things  B^d  about  you.  You  are  making  a  good  name  in  Ohio 
and  I  expect  you  to  keep  it  up.  I  did  not  do  my  usual  amount 
of  sleeping  on  the  train  and  am  today  in  a  limp  and  fraszled 
state.  Sunday  night  I  was  wakeful  most  of  the  night  and  I 
was  not  sorry  for  it  gave  me  the  opportunity  to  call  the  roll  of 
the  converts  and  how  happy  I  was  to  find  that  my  memory 
carried  so  many  of  them.  Then,  too,  I  turned  my  thoughts  back- 
wards and  what  troops  of  the  brethren  and  sisters  reappeared 
before  me  and  I  greeted  them  in  spirit  over  and  over  again. 
"At  breakfast  this  morning  they  drew  me  into  talk  about 
the  meeting.  My  wife  suddenly  exclaimed:  'Why,  how  on 
earth  do  you  remember  so  many?'  I  could  have  siud  that  it 
was  easy  to  remember  those  you  love. 

"Of  course  I  had  to  describe,  with  a  particularity  which  a 
woman  would  require,  you  and  your  domestic  treasures  and 
when  I  finished  I  think  that  the  impression  was  that  I  had 
been  staying  with  quite  a  fine  family  of  people. 

"But  this  is  enough  at  this  time.    You  and  your  church  are 
enshrined  in  my  heart.    My  thoughts  will  abide  with'  you. 
"Fraternally  Yours, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

"  P.  S. — As  I  failed  to  get  this  letter  into  the  mail,  I  will 
exercise  a  woman's  right  and  add  a  few  other  feeble  remarks.  I 
had  my  wedding  tonight  and  it  was.£rst  class.  The  occasion 
was  really  brilliant  and — (excuse  me)  the  fee  was  (20.  After 
a  royal  supper  I  came  to  my  church  and  had  a  ddightful  re- 
ception. Great  interest  was  evinced  in  the  Toledo  meeting 
and  what  pleased  me  greatly  not  a  word  was  sud  as  to  the 
economic  aspects  of  my  trip.  I  love  for  my  folks  to  be  tasteful 
and  to  know  how  to  do  the  neat  thing." 

But  there  was  another  member  of  Dr.  Hunt's  household  that 
Dr.  Hatcher  carried  in  his  heart  and  that  was  Dr.  Hunt's 
little  daughter,  Harriet. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LITTLE  HABMETT  HUNT  413 

"It  was  characteristic  of  Dr.  Hatcher  to  write  this  fine 
letter  to  my  four  year  old  daughter,"  saya  Dr.  Hunt  in  sending 
the  letter: 

"Mt  Dear  LnrLE  HARRiBrr, — It  hurts  me  to  think  that  you 
are  800  hig  miles  away  from  me.  I  would  just  delight  to  sit 
by  you  at  the  table  and  give  you  a  few,  sly  hugs.  You  were 
very  good  to  me  while  I  was  at  your  house  and  I  am  going  to  tell 
my  friends  about  it.  Some  of  these  days  you  may  come  to 
fijchmond  and  then  I  will  see  if  I  cannot  be  good  to  you.  If 
they  have  "noodles"  at  any  time  you  must  eat  some  of  them 
for  me. 

"I  expect  you  to  write  to  me  soon  after  Christmas  and  tell 
me  all  about  Santa's  visit  and  also  what  he  brought  you.  Tell 
them  at  home  that  they  must  treat  you  well,  or  I  will  ride  up 
there  some  pleasant  moonhght  night  and  bring  you  to  Kichmond. 
If  I  had  you  it  would  be  fine,  but  as  I  cannot  get  you  I  will  love 
you  anyhow.  Give 'Uncle' my  best  regards  and  also  Helen.  She 
is  a  stonning  fine  giri  and  she  must  not  forget  me. 
"Your  loving  friend, 

"Dr.  Hatcher." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


DB.  C.  C.  HBADOB.      TBB  WHJ'fflrri'  CX)IfTROVBRSr.      THE  BAPTISTa 

The  year  1898  found  him  crowded  with  varied  engagements. 
They  kept  him  hurrying  hither  and  thither  with  but  little 
time  for  studying  and  consequently  his  preaching — so  his  wife 
thought — suffered  under  the  stran.  After  writing  to  me  of  a 
"red  letter  day"  which  he  had  at  his  church  on  Sunday  January, 
0th,  a  day  of  glorious  experiences  she  continues ; 

"The  effect  on  the  church  was  marked.  Something  out 
of  the  line  has  to  take  place  like  that  in  a  church  every  once 
and  a  while  to  get  it  out  of  the  ruts.  Being  out  of  his  study  so 
long,  he  was  showing  that  he  was  lagging  behind  in  his  sermons 
and  I  ventured  so  to  indicate  to  him — I  never  like  to  hint  to 
him  anything  uncomplimentary.  I  nearly  always  tell  him  how 
I  enjoy  his  preaching  and  say  all  the  good  things  I  can  about 
the  sermon — ^it  pleases  him.  But  I  must  be  just  to  him.  I 
cannot  bear  the  thought  of  his  not  keeping  up  to  high  water 
mark.  And  so  he  said  he  felt  he  was  not  getting  on  well  ser- 
monizing and  the  effort  to  recover  himself  brought  on  this 
renaissance,  so  to  speak,  of  last  Sunday.  It  was  a  great  day 
and  I  am  thankful  for  it.  I  dout  care  to  what  height  a  preacher 
attains,  he  must  study — ^he  must  have  some  new  idea  each 
time.  One  great  central  thought  well  illuminated  will  satisfy 
the  hungry  christian." 

He  went  this  month  for  meetings  with  Dr.  Eeniy  Colby  at 
his  church  in  Dayton,  Ohio,  and  at  the  end  of  three  weeks  he 
writes: 

"I  have  preached  between  thirty  and  forty  sermons  .    . 
The  joy  has  rarely  ever  been  greater  to  me.    The  meeting  at 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SUDDEN  DEATH  415 

the  first  Church  has  not  had  th«  bound  and  triumphant 
moTement  of  some  that  I  have  seen.  It  hcs  not  accomplished 
flS  that  we  have  been  pr&ying  for  but  it  has  achieved  wonders." 

The  following  letter  from  my  mother  on  February  17th, 
closed  irith  a  significant  statement, — the  significance  of  which 
will  appear  later  in  this  tbapter: 

"Your  father  has  loads  upon  loads  of  Board  work  on  his 
shoulders — much  of  it  exasperating — so  much  pereonalism, 
favoritism  to  be  combatted  at  every  turn— that  it  makes  it 
hard,  doubly  hard,  to  direct  or  control  affairs.  And  all  that 
has  to  be  conned,  and  thought  over  and  over.  I  hope  you 
will  never  be  so  heavily  burdened,  thoufch  I  want  you  to  make 
yourself  felt  in  the  denomination  by  doing  helpful  work.  It 
takes  an  iron  will  and  an  iron  constitution  to  bear  what  he  has 
to  bear.  At  this  moment  he  is  in  conference  with  Dr.  Whitaitt 
at  Ford's.  He  telegraphed  him  to  meet  him  there  at  ten  o'clock 
today. 

He  spoke  at  the  funeral  of  a  preacher  who  had  shortly 
before  his  death  watched  many  days  at  the  dying  bed^de  of 
his  son.    He  said: 

"It  seems  to  me  that  watching  with  his  boy  our  brother  went 
80  far -toward  eternity  that  he  never  came  back.  He  was  never 
the  same  man.  He  caught  a  glimpse  through  the  gates  that 
opened  for  his  son  and  his  longing  heart  took  one  leap  and  he 
was  gone." 

That  paragraph  contains  a  picture  of  death  that  he  seemed 
fond  of.  It  is  seen  in  the  words  "took  one  leap  and  was  gone." 
He  in  after  years  referred  to  his  brother  Harvey  dying  in  that 
fashion  and  it  was  the  maimer  in  which  he  himself  wished  to  go. 
It  was  not  merely  the  idea  of  dying  suddenly,  but  far  above 
that  was  the  thought  of  going  with  a  leap  and  bound;  going 
straight  from  the  harvest  field  into  the  presence  of  his  Master. 

He  had  a  sympathetic  interest  in  the  colored  preachers  of  the 
old  stripe,  and  showed  it  in  many  ways.  He  delivered  an 
address  before  the  Baptist  Social  Union  of  Philadelphia  in  the 
Spring  on  "The  Ck>lored  Preacher  of  ante  bellum  days." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


416  DR.  C.  C.  MEADOR 

Speaking  of  Dr.  Thorabill  of  MaDchester  he  writes  to  me 
on  April  17th: 

"I  miss  him  like  forty  when  he  is  out  of  town  for  he  is  one 
of  my  abounding  consolations.  He  is  a  great  fouotiun  of 
pleasure  to  me.  I  am  now  training  Mercer  to  be  one  of  my 
consolaters — a  Saturday  afternoon  companion.  We  too  had  a 
long  ride  in  the  country  yesterday  afternoon." 

He  sought  to  keep  the  &Te»  of  his  old  friendships  burning. 
It  has  been  said  that  friendship  is  a  plant  that  one  must  water 
often  and  Dr.  Sam  Johnson  declared  that  a  man  should  keep 
his  friendship  in  constant  repair.  He  saw  a  picture  in  the 
Herald  of  one  of  these  old  friends,  Dr.  C.  C.  Meador, — then 
the  pastor  of  the  Fifth  Baptist  Church  in  Washington,  D.  C, 
and  it  pleased  him  greatly  to  see  the  Doctor  thus  honored. 
The  sight  of  the  face  takes  his  thoughts  back  to  hia  home  in 
Bedford  and  he  writes  in  playful  fashion  of  two  of  his  eariy 
boyhood  experiences  with  Dr.  Meador: 

"I  was  the  mill  boy,  and  once  each  week  I  carried  my  sack 
to  the  mill  where  Mr.  Meador  was  the  ruling  spirit.  He  seemed 
a  long  shot  above  me,  but  I  fired  many  questions  at  him  at  long 
range  and  in  time  established  friendly  relations  with  bim. 

"It  is  not  quite  noble  to  rake  up  unpleasant  memories  and 
it  may  be  wrong  in  me  to  do  it;  but  I  had  a  difficulty  with  that 
man  Meador  in  those  far  away  days  there  among  the  towering 
hills  of  Bedford.  He  did  a  thing  that  I  thought  ill  of  at  the 
time  and  about  which  I  have  never  been  fully  reconciled.  Those 
who  were  around  us  at  the  time  are  now  beneath  the  Bedford 
sod  and,  as  I  cannot  call  on  them  to  judge  between  us,  I  must 
appeal  to  the  living  to  say  where  the  wrong  was. 

"They  had  a  revival  at  Mount  Hermon.  Oh,  it  was  amply 
glorious!  I  have  never  heard  of  such  a  time  as  that  was  to  me. 
Old  Father  Harris  was  there  in  hia  venerable  prime  and  more 
than  once  he  came  down  the  aisles  with  his  long  shock  of  snowy 
hair  breaking  over  his  shoulders  and  streaming  in  the  breezes 
and  hia  face  wet  with  tears  as  he  told  us  of  Christ  and  Heaven 
and  besought  us  to  come  into  the  ark.  .  .  It  was  too  much 
for  me.  I  Bed  the  house  and  out  in  the  pines  made  my  vow. 
At  a  later  meeting  I  went  forward  for  prayer  and  while  uttjng 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DR.  C.  C  MEADOR  417 

by  the  tdde  of  Meador  one  night  I  felt  the  sense  of  God's  for- 
giving love.  Few  ruder  boys  ever  knocked  at  Mercy's  gate 
than  I  was  and  few  even  had  cruder  notions  of  what  ought  to 
be  done  with  such  a  blessed  secret — even  the  secret  of  sins 
foi^ven — ^than  I  had.  There  I  sat  with  a  fire  in  my  bones, 
dropping  silent  tears,  glancing  at  the  new  light  and  beauty  on 
the  faces  of  those  who  were  singing  and  afterwards  trying  to 
hear  the  sermon.  But  a  burning  in  my  heart  constrained  me  to 
tell  somebody  something,  though  I  hardly  knew  what.  There 
at  my  side  was  Meador  deeply  absorbed  in  the  sermon  and 
little  dreaming  what  God  bad  that  night  done  for  me.  I 
touched  him  and  he  bent  his  ear  down  to  me.  I  said  'I  have 
a  secret  to  tell  you;  go  out  with  me.'  Would  you  believe  it? 
He  would  not  go.  For  years  I  have  charged  him  that  he  did 
me  ill  and  I  here  and  now  renew  tne  charge  against  him  and  I 
ask  the  judgment  of  the  court.  He  may  have  reasons  for  his 
conduct  but  he  has  never  given  them  to  me.  And  what  reasons 
could  satisfy  me. 

"But  my  feeling  ag^nst  him  are  mollified  by  the  fact  that 
a  few  weeks  after  that  I  had  a  terrible  attack  of  doubt.  It 
overcast  my  whole  sky  and  shut  off  all  hght.  My  soul  went  down 
into  the  pit.  Despair  arose  in  me.  But  my  day  to  put  my  sack 
on  "old  Fillie"  and  go  to  mill  came  and  away  I  went  taking  my 
sorrows  with  me.  Out  of  the  mill  came  Meador,  as  I  drove  up, 
smiling  as  kindly  as  if  he  had  never  done  me  a  wrong  in  lus 
life.  As  we  stroUed  into  the  cardii^  rooms  he  said:  'You  made 
roe  very  happy  the  other  night.' 

"I  understood  what  he  meant,  but  I  was  in  no  mood  tor 
anybody  to  be  rejoicing  over  what  seemed  to  be  my  folly  in 
professing  rehgion.  I  cut  him  off  in  short  order  by  telling  him 
that  I  had  made  a  mistake,  that  my  hope  was  decid  and  that  I 
saw  no  chance  for  me. 

"  'And  can  it  be'  he  said  'that  the  Devil  has  put  you  in 
Doubting  Castle  so  soon?  That  will  never  do.  Have  you  cast 
Christ  away?   I  know  he  has  not  cast  you  away.' 

"Before  I  had  a  moment  to  reflect  he  had  brought  me  face  to 
face  once  more  with  Christ;  my  doubts  fled  and  I  found  my 
feet  once  more  on  the  rock.  How  easily  he  did  it!  What  comfort 
he  gave  me!  He  has  spent  a  life  time  in  doing  gracious  things 
like  that  for  those  who  needed  him.  He  is  a  fountain  of  comfort. 
Not  yet,  old  fellow,  do  I  say  that  I  will  forgive  you  for  denying 
me  that  night.  We  must  have  a  few  more  wrangles  over  that 
before  we  get  it  settled.    My  feeling  on  that  is  Btil)  strong;  but 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


418       THE  WHITSnT  CONTROVERSY 

I  trust  that  it  ia  not  of  that  bitter  sort  that  will  cause  the  gate 
of  heaveD  to  be  Bhut  against  me  or  that  will  forbid  our  walking 
ann  in  arm  when  we  go  up  to  witness  the  crownii^  of  hiTn  who 
washed  us  in  his  own  blood." 

His  shoulders  carried  at  this  time  the  heaviest  denominational 
burden  that  had  ever  been  laid  upon  him.  A  storm  was  brewing 
that  threatened  to  disrupt  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention 
and  there  were  many  who  looked  to  him  to  avert,  if  posfflble, 
the  storm. 

The  whole  disturbance  raged  around  the  head  of  Dr.  Wm.  H. 
WMtsitt  the  preddent  of  the  Southern  B^tist  Theological 
Seminary, — one  portion  of  Southern  Baptists  clamoring  for  his 
reagnation  and  the  other  portion  being  equally  insistoit  that 
he  should  not  resgn,  and  upcm  Dr.  Hatcher  bad  beoi  placed 
the  leadership  of  the  party  that  was  friendly  to  Dr.  Whitsitt. 
Many  mont^  before  this  time  Dr.  Whitsitt  had  written  sev- 
enl  articles  that  seemed  dispan^in^  to  the  Baptist  position. 
He  had  written  them  as  editorials  in  the  "Independent"  of  New 
York, — a  non-denominational  periodical, — ^the  subject  about 
which  Dr.  Whitsitt  wrote  having  already  been  under  discusaon 
in  that  paper.  Dr.  Whitsitt  later  on — of  his  own  motion, — 
avowed  his  authorship  of  these  editorials  and  at  on<%  the  battie 
began.  From  many  sources  came  compliunts  that  ike  Premdent 
of  the  Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminary  should  have 
published  as  editorials  in  a  non-denominational  paper, — one 
not  sympathetic  with  Baptists, — articles  that  seemed  un- 
favorable to  the  Baptists.  But  the  most  vigorous  ac«usati(»ia 
against  the  Doctor  were  caused  by  his  statement  in  the  articles 
that  immerdon  had  been  "invented  in  England  in  1641". 
That  utterance  became  to  many  his  unpardonable  an  and  in 
a  short  while  South^n  Baptists  found  themselves  divided  into 
two  camps, — one  for  and  the  other  agiunst  Dr.  Whitsitt. 

There  was  in  the  denomination  a  certain  constituency  called 
"Landmarkers",  characterized  by  some  one  as  the  "Hi^  Church 
party"  in  the  Baptist  D^omination.  They  held  the  doctrine 
(^  "historic  succesaon"  insisting  that  there  had  been  a  r^ular 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  WHITSITT  CONTROVERSY       419 

and  unbroken  BUccesaion  of  Baptist  churches  from  the  days 
of  the  Apostles  until  the  present  time.  Dr.  Whitedtt'e  articles 
were  a  practical  denial  of  their  poation  and  consequently 
the  entire  ranks  of  those  who  were  called  the  Landmarkers 
seemed  to  take  sides  against  Dr.  Whit^tt.  But  it  was  not 
merely  a  Landmark  issue.  In  many  states  there  were  those 
who,  while  not  Edtting  in  the  Landmark  camp,  were  yet  sbakii^ 
thw  heads  against  the  Seminary  Prefddent  and  thinking  that 
be  ought  to  resign. 

On  the  other  hand  there  were  many  who  did  not  feel  that 
Dr.  Whitsitt's  publications  in  the  Independent  justified  the 
movement  for  his  overthrow,  and  they  felt  that  the  welfare  of  the 
Seminary  required  them  to  resist  and,  if  possible  to  bring  to 
naught  this  hostile  campaign.  Dr.  Whitsitt's  Louisville  friends 
had  asked  Dr.  Hatcher  to  take  chaise  of  the  Whitsitt  side  of  the 
contest.  He  consented  because  he  felt  that  large  denominsr- 
tional  issues  were  involved  and  thus  he  took  the  lead  oa  one  rade 
of  a  ocmtest  which  developed  into  the  severest  conflict  that 
Soutliera  Baptist  Convention  had  ever  known.  It  was  e^>ected 
that  the  struggle  would  culminate  at  Wilmington,  N.  C, 
where  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  and  the  Board  of 
Seminary  Trustees  were  to  hold  their  annual  sessitms  in 
May. 

The  responsibilities  of  his  position  w^ghed  upon  Dr.  Hatcher 
heavily.  The  president  of  the  Convention,  who  was  one  of  his 
best  friends, — Juc^  Haralson, — ^wrote  him  shortly  before  the 
meeting: 

"Those  opposed  to  our  Uncle  ['Uncle  Billy*  bmg  the 
affectionate  title  ^ven  Dr.  Whitsitt  by  the  students]  are  numr 
eroxa.  A  majority  west  of  the  Mississippi,  in  Misussdppi, 
Kentucky,  Tennessee,  a  smart  spiinlde  in  Alabama  and  else- 
where, may  be  counted  as  dissatisfied.  It  is  doubtful  which 
dde  will  be  in  the  majority  if  the  test  should  be  made.  The 
Seminary  should  have  the  support  and  confidence  of  all.  We 
must  rescue  it  from  distraction  if  possible.  .  .  Both  bodies 
(the  Convention  and  the  Seminary)  are  in  danger  and  both 
need  cautious  handling." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


420      THE  WHirSITT  CONTROVERSY 

The  settlement  of  the  matter  lay  with  the  Trustees  of  the 
Semin&iy  and  it  was  there  that  the  battle  was  to  be  waged 
and  there  the  vote  taken.  And  yet  back  of  the  Board  was 
the  larger  body,  the  Convention,  and  the  Board  well  knew 
that  its  action  must  meet  the  sentiment  of  the  Convention. 

On  all  hands  the  reigning  question  at  Wilmington  was 
"What  will  be  done  about  Dr.  Whit^tt?  Will  his  friends  be  able 
to  hold  him  in  bis  portion,  or  will  the  other  dde  compel  bis 
re^gnation?"  Dr.  Hatcher  had  no  thirst  for  mere  victory 
and  he  was  not  out  on  the  path  for  any  one's  aeaip.  It  was  a 
peaceful  ending  of  the  agitation  for  which  he  yearned.  He 
feit  that  it  would  be  a  disaster  for  the  Seminary  for  Dr.  Wbitsitt 
to  be  forced  to  resign  under  such  conditions  and  be  hoped  that 
something  could  be  done  in  the  Board  to  preserve  the  integrity 
of  the  Seminary  Faculty  and  also  the  unity  of  the  Convention. 
Many  were  the  conferences, — by  mail  and  by  personal  intei^ 
view — that  he  held  with  his  lieutenants  and  sympattuEers, 
and  when  the  Board  came  together  in  Wilmii^ton,  the  day 
before  the  meeting  of  the  Convention,  he  had  his  plan  ready. 
This  plan  was  for  Dr.  Whitaitt  to  make  a  statement  to  the 
Board,  defining  fais  position  but  admitting  that  fae  had  made 
a  mistake  in  writing  the  articles  in  the  Independent,  and  that 
then  the  Board  should  accept  this  statement  as  a  satisfactory 
solution  of  the  entire  trouble.  He  nearly  alw^s  had  his  men 
selected  to  cooperate  with  him  in  brin^i^  his  measures  before 
a  body;  he  would  have  one  to  present  the  measure  while  he 
would  follow  with  his  reinforcements. 

The  Board  convened  at  Wilmington,  and,  upon  motion,  Dr. 
Whitffitt  was  invited  to  appear  before  them  and  make  his 
statement.  That  statement  had  been  written  on  the  preceding 
night  in  our  room  at  the  hotel.  Dr.  Hatcher  wrote  it,  with 
Dr.  Whit«itt  at  his  side  making  whatever  suggestions  he  desired, 
though  scarcely  any  were  necessary  inasmuch  as  he  and  Dr. 
Hatcher  had  thoroughly  discussed  the  matter  together.  The 
writii^  of  this  statement  in  our  room  ran  far  into  the  night 
and  on  the  next  day  Dr.  Whitsitt  read  bis  statement  to  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  WHITSITT  GONTROVEESY      421 

Board  and  it  was  accepted  as  satisfactory,  and  Dr.  Hatcher 
was  appointed  to  report  the  matter  to  the  ConvKition  and  this 
he  did  that  afternoon.  The  great  assembly  listened  with  bated 
breath  and  at  its  close  the  long  pent  up  storm  of  suspense  and 
anxiety  broke. 

"Then  occured  a  demonstration",  says  a  writer  "which  I 
never  expect  to  see  equalled  again  on  the  floor  of  the  Southern 
Baptist  Convention,— if  I  attend  the  body  until  I  am  old.  The 
delegates  moved  like  a  tide  towards  the  front  to  shake  hands 
with  Dr.  Whitsitt,  Old  and  young  came  and  many  of  the  older 
friends  of  the  good  president  embraced  him.  .  .  The  great 
body  of  christians  behaved  like  children.  Dr.  WhitEdtt  was 
visibly  affected." 

Everybody  appeared  happy,  and  the  delegates  soon  scat- 
tered to  their  diEFereat  states  with  the  glad  thought  "the  war 
is  over." 

But  even  before  the  Wilmington  Convention  melted  away 
a  few  mutterings  of  disapproval  about  the  Whit^tt  matter  were 
beard;  but  they  created  only  faint  smiles  from  those  on  the 
other  side.    They  did  not  disturb  Dr.  Hatcher.     He  wrote: 

"I  have  heard  that  there  was  some  firing  at  Appomattox 
after  Grant  and  Lee  had  signed  the  terms  of  capitulation  and 
even  to  this  peaceful  day  we  now  and  then  hear  the  sluggish 
report  of  an  old  army  musket;  but  that  does  not  signify  that 
the  war  ia  stilt  going  on.  .  .  Possibly  many  dear  brethren  on 
both  sides  of  the  Whitsitt  tilt  went  to  Wilmington  with  their 
guns  charged  for  the  battle;  but  the  engagement  did  not  come 
off.  If  we  hear  an  occasional  shot  let  us  believe  that  they  are 
^mply  emptying  their  guns  before  returning  them  to  the  rack. 
A  few  may  wear  their  war  clothes  and  tell  lai^e  stories  as  to 
how  they  thrashed  the  other  side  but  that  is  not  war." 

But  as  the  mouths  passed  the  former  discontent  b^an  to 
lift  its  head  again  and  tiiis  was  intensified  by  a  sentence  in  Dr. 
Whitaitt's  statement  which  Dr.  Hatcher  had  read  before  the 
Wilmington  Convention  on  the  occasion  when  Dr.  Whitatt 
was  given  the  great  ovation  and  that  was  the  sentence  in  which 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


422         THE  NORFOLK  CONVENTION 

he  declared  that  he  bad  written  the  Independent  articles  from 
a  Pedobaptist  standpoint.  That  phrase,  "from  a  Pedobaptist 
standpoint",  seemed  to  wake  the  cohorta  to  battle  afresh  and  the 
conflict  now  b^an  to  be  waged  more  yigorously  tfaaO'  ever. 
State  Associations  took  the  matter  up  for  discussion  and  the 
lines  were  drawn  even  in  district  assoeiatjons  and  in  churches. 
But  Dr.  Hatcher  kept  in  touch  with  his  men  in  the  Board  <A 
Trustees  and  sought  to  hold  his  lines  in  tact.  He  wrote  me  on 
April  6th:  "The  Whitaitt  matter  is  in  high  shape  and  I  really 
beliere  we  have  the  Hessians  on  the  canter."  Several  days  later 
he  wrote  me:  "Letters  are  still  pouring  in  about  the  Whitaitt 
matter."  It  ought  to  be  mentioned  that  the  leader  of  the  op- 
poation  was  Rev.  T.  T.  Eaton,  D.  D.,  of  Louisville,  an  eminently 
popular  and  able  leader.  Around  him  the  anti-Whit»tt  forces 
rallied  and  he  led  them  valiantly.  He  writes  me  on  March 
28,  in  Norfolk  where  the  next  meeting  of  the  Convention  is  to 
occur: 

"I  am  anxious  to  know  if  you  meet  with  any  of  the  Whitsitt 

madness  in  Norfolk  at  this  time.    How  is  Brer [paa- 

tor  Church]  talking  these  days?     It  would  be  a 

long-lasting  pity  for  us  to  make  a  ripping  fuss  in  a  town  like 
Norfolk  (at  the  meeting  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention 
in  May].    If  you  are  certain  it  would  be  safe  to  do  it  I  wish 

you  would  ask if  he  would  unite  in  a  quiet  effort  to 

keep  it  out  of  the  Convention.  You  might  say  that  I  was  greatly 
hoping  that  it  might  be  done  in  the  interest  of  peace  and  har- 
mony in  Virginia. 

"Fraternally,  W.  E.  H." 

The  newspapers  took  up  the  cudgels  of  war  and  by  the  time 
the  next  meeting  of  the  Convention  was  held  in  Norfolk,  Va., 
the  contest  had  developed  mto  a  battle  royal.  Three  or  four 
weeks  before  the  time  for  the  Convention  meeting,  I  received 
in  Norfolk,  where  I  was  then  pastor,  the  followii^  letter  from 
him: 

"I  must  have  an  eternally  secret  council  meeting  of  some 
of  the  Trustees  of  the  Seminary  on  Wednesday  night  May  4tb. 
Where  can  we  meet.    Fix  that  for  us  and  report  at  once." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DR.  WHTTSITT'S  RESIGNATION       423 

He  received  a  tel^ram  from  Dr.  Whitdtt  requestiz^  a  ooit- 
fereDce  at  Ford's  hotel  in  Richmond. 

The  Convention  arrived.  Warmly  waxed  the  contest  in  the 
Board.  The  pressure  agunst  the  Whitmtt  lines  was  enomwus, 
but  in  the  Board  his  friends  held  their  ground  and  when  the 
Convention  closed  no  unfavorable  action  had  been  taken  by  the 
Ctmvention  or  the  Board  against  Dr.  Wbitsitt.  The  ^icounter 
in  the  Board  was,  of  course,  maintained  on  the  high  ground  of 
christian  courtesy  and  mutuKi  respect,  each  side  cout^ding 
for  what  they  believed  to  be  right.  Dr.  Hatcher  now  looked 
forward  to  an  era  of  peace.    He  writes  me  on  May  18th: 

"I  believe  the  Whitsitt  storm  is  spent.  I  get  letters  of 
compliment  on  the  outcome  but  I  am  too  busy  to  enjoy  them." 

Out  in  Kentucky  the  rumble  of  the  battle  was  heard  afresh, 
and  one  day  he  was  overwhelmed  with  dismay  and  almost 
of  indignation  to  read  in  the  papers  the  announcement  of  Dr. 
Whitdtt's  resignation, — the  very  thing,  of  all  others,  that 
he  thought  was  provided  against.  It  occured  in  connection 
with  the  Kentucky  state  Convention.  There  a  strong  pressure 
was  brought  to  bear  upon  Doctor  Whitatt;  he  was  ut^ed  to 
resgn  and  this  he  did,  because  it  seemed  to  him  at  the  time  that 
worse  consequences  might  ensue  if  he  refused.  It  threw  the 
Whitott  camp — so  far  as  Dr.  Hatcher  and  his  cohorts  were 
concerned — into  bewilderment  for  the  moment,  but  not  into 
panic. 

The  Board  met  to  take  action  upon  his  resignation.  So 
intense  was  the  public  interest  in  these  meetings  that  the 
reporters  were  clamoring  for  admisdon,  and  the  doors  had  to 
be  locked  ^unst  them.  His  resignation  was  accepted  to  take 
effect  at  the  emd  of  the  next  sesaon. 

The  final  day  of  Dr.  Whitdtt'a  iocumbmcy  arrived, — ^his 
1^  day  as  President,  and  the  last  day  of  the  Commencemoit 
exercises.  It  was  a  memorable  day.  Dr.  Hatoher,  his  friend, 
who  had  championed  his  cause,  had  been  asked  to  be  present 
and  take  part  in  the  closing  act.    From  differeait  parts  of  Louia- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


424  WHlTSnr  DAY 

ville  that  morning  the  people  hastened  to  the  Seminajy  hall, — 
but  let  Dr.  Hatcher  tell  the  story: 

"The  day  was  preeminently  Whitatt  day.    The  consciousness 
that  a  notable  event  was  at  hand  pervaded  the  city  and  im- 
parted a  tii^e  of  sobered  melancholy  to  earth  and  sl^,     .    . 
One  thought  reigned  in  every  mind  and  one  name  trembled  on 
every  lip, 

"Dr.  Whitaitt  did  not  emerge  from  the  presidential  mansion 
until  the  time  for  the  morning  exercises  was  at  hand.  A 
serenity,  so  strikingly  his  distinguishing  feature,  marked  "his 
face  and  hid  whatever  of  tumult  went  on  in  his  soul.  EUa 
entrance  into  Norton  Hall  where  the  exercises  were  to  occur, 
stirred  no  applause.  The  people  simply  looked  at  him  as  he 
moved  up  the  aisle — a  look  ineffably  kind  and  reverential 
and  were  silent.  Later  on  when  the  opening  exercises  had 
passed  and  a  kindly  reference  to  the  man  who  sat  in  the  chtur 
was  made  the  long  suppressed  passion  of  the  assembly  burst 
into  applause,  titoid  at  first  but  growing  in  volume  until  its 
thunders  actually  shook  the  bouse.  The  brother  who  made  the 
address  of  the  morning  was  endured  when  he  spoke  on  other 
themes;  but  if  he  dared  to  point  his  finger  at  Whiteitt,  he  became 
at  once  the  friend  and  spokesman  of  the  audience.  They  were 
there  to  pay  court  to  just  one,  and  ail  who  assisted  in  that  were 
friends.  If  there  was  music,  its  undertones  were  a  loving  good 
bye  to  the  man  whom  Louisville  delighted  to  honor.  If  a 
speech  was  made,  it  got  its  best  hearing  and  its  loudest  applause 
when  it  uttered  the  sentiment  of  the  hour.  If  honors  came  to  the 
Seminary  students,  they  took  on  a  new  charm  and  worth  be- 
cause they  bore  his  signature  and  came  straight  from  his  hand. 
If  prayers  were  offered  they  reached  their  utmost  fervor  when 
they  called  for  blessings  on  the  retiring  president.  Reporters 
Bitted  about  tike  hungry  birds  but  nothing  satisfied  them  so 
well  as  news  about  Whitsitt.  Elect  women  sat  through  the 
service  with  faces  wet  with  tears  and  every  tear  was  a  messenger 
from  some  heart  bringing  tidings  of  grief  and  love." 

One  feature  of  the  day  was  the  presentation  of  the  portrait 
of  Dr.  Whitsitt.    Eegarding  this  he  writes: 

"True  it  was  only  a  shadow  of  a  man  but  many  felt  as  if 
there  was  heahng  power  in  the  shadow  and  that  it  would  shed 
endless  grace  upon  the  Seminary. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  FAREWELL  SCENE  425 

"At  night  the  Burging  crowd  came  in, — apparently  to  the 
Commeucement, — but  really  to  get  a  final  glimpse  of  the 
president  and  to  hear  his  farewell  words.  It  was  overmasterinj; 
to  observe  the  subduing  power  of  his  voice  and  to  mark  the 
strain  ot  attention  with  which  every  sentence  was  caught. 
The  occasion  and  the  man  alike  were  too  high  for  the  indul- 
gence of  shallow  sentiment  or  to  appeal  for  the  pity  of  tears. 
A  tone  of  pensive  gratitude  pervaded  the  opening  utterances 
of  the  valedictory  but  this  soon  gave  place  to  a  thrillii^  appeal 
for  steadfastness  in  upholding  the  fundamental  doctrines  upon 
which  the  Seminary  was  founded.  His  last  words  were  a  plea 
for  loyalty  to  truth.  There  was  a  mellowness  of  manner,  a 
quiet  sense  of  self  respect,  and  a  touch  of  exalted  charity  in  his 
tone  which  went  to  the  hearts  of  his  brethren.  He  had  been 
through  intense  experiences  and  the  close  of  his  official  career 
was  itself  a  crisis  and  it  was  pleasant  to  observe  with  what 
discretion  and  grace  he  bore  himself." 

After  describing  the  clo^ng  scene  when  be  ended  his  address 
Dr.  Hatcher  said  that  amid  solemn  silence: 

"The  people  gradually  retired  from  the  hall,  the  lights  went 
out  and  Dr.  Whitsitt  was  no  longer  the  president  of  the  South- 
em  Baptist  Theological  Seminary. 

"Thus  passed  out  William  H.  Whitsitt  from  the  service  of  the 
Southern  Baptists.  He  left  behind  him  the  record  of  27  years 
of  continuous  labor  in  our  Seminary.  No  man  ever  had  truer 
friends  and  not  one  ever  carried  with  him  more  affectionate 
esteem  and  devotion  into  his  retirement.  Checkered,  indeed, 
was  his  career.  The  sword  went  into  his  soul,  and  not  all  of 
his  brethren  could  see  eye  to  eye  as  to  his  wisdom  and  usefulness 
His  convictions  brought  suffering  and  he  showed  the  patience 
which  marks  the  hero.  What  his  immediate  future  will  be  ts 
not  known  yet  to  the  pubUc,  but  it  is  hardly  possible  that  the 
Baptist  historians  of  the  future  will  overlook  his  name.  His 
last  public  words  were:  'With  charity  for  all  and  malice  for 
none  I  bid  you  farewell,' " 

The  question  as  to  Dr.  Whitsitt's  successor  now  confronted 
the  Board.  In  fact  they  were  already  dealing  with  it.  Dr. 
J.  P.  Green  was  elected  but  he  declined. 

In  mid-Summer  the  Board  met  in  Atlanta  to  elect  a  new  pre»- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


426  THE  NEW  PRESIDENT 

ident,  and  many  eyes  were  turned  towards  Atlanta.  The 
Secretary  of  the  Trustees  Rev.  Dr.  M.  D.  Jeffries,  thus 
describes  the  scene; 

"All  seemed  uncertain;  there  was  division  of  sentiment. 
Earnest  prayers  had  been  made,  names  were  suf^eeted  for 
the  important  place  that  was  to  be  filled.  W.  E.  Hatcher  arose 
in  a  somewhat  hesitating  way,  yet'  with  force  in  hie  words, 
and  sud  that  he  had  the  name  of  a  young  man  to  present; 
he  didn't  kn6w  that  he  was  the  man  but  he  believed  in  him. 
In  a  few. such  mild  words,  telling  why  he  thought  as  he  did,  he 
presented  the  name  of  E.  Y.  Mullins.  Witiiout  any  great 
rush,  but  really  with  a  spirit  of  questioning,  yet  of  quiet  con- 
viction, the  suggestion  seemed  to  take  hold  of  Uie  board.  There 
were  brief,  earnest  talks,  conviction  moving  steadily  one  way. 
Fresentiy  a  vote  was  taken  and  we  had  selected,  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  brother  Hatcher,  the  hand,  brain  and  heart  which 
guide  today,  in  such  a  masterly  way,  the  affairs  of  our  Seminaiy." 

An  era  of  peace  and  hope  seemed  to  have  dawned  for  the 
Seminary  and  for  the  Denomination.  It  is  said  that  Dr.  Eaton 
seconded  the  nomination  of  Dr.  Mullins  and  thus  the  divided 
forces  seemed  to  have  joined  hands  under  the  standard  of  the 
Seminary's  new  president. 

^  bit  of  news  came  to  Dr.  Hatcher  one  day  that  struck  him  a 
center  blow.  He  was  told  that  the  election  of  Dr.  Mullins 
was  being  E^ken  of  in  certain  places  as  a  victory  for  the  old 
Whitffltt  party  and  as  a  result  of  a  Whitsitt  movem^it.  With 
him  the  Whitutt  war  was  over,  his  old  weapons  had  been  cast 
behind  him  and  his  face  turned  to  the  future  and  the  intimation 
that  he  was  nurdi^  the  old  complaint  in  his  nomination  of  Dr. 
Mullins  brought  him  to  his  feet  and  he  wrote  in  the  Herald 
the  followii^  pung^Lt  statement: 

"My  attrition  has  been  called  to  the  fact  that  there  is  a 
diqK>9tion  in  some  quarters  to  accept  the  election  of  Dr. 
Mullins  as  the  result  of  a  Whitsitt  movement.  Of  course  news- 
papers say  what  they  choose  and  in  this  frightfully  free  country, 
we  must  endure  what  we  can  not  prevent.  But,  as  I  have  been 
named  as  one  who  bore  a  part  in  winning  a  WMtatt  victory, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


NOT  A  PARTISAN  427 

I  feel  that,  for  once  at  leaat,  I  must  break  ulence  and  have  s 
littie  chat  with  the  Southern  BaptistB. 

"I  do  not  disguise  the  fact  that  in  the  Whitaitt  agitation  I 
stood  with  Dr.  Whit^tt.  Tliis  grew  out  of  my  approval  of 
his  administration  and  my  intense  desire  to  preserve  intact  the 
organieation  of  our  Seminary  faculty.  It  is  juet  to  add  that 
I  have  now  much  affectionate  esteem  for  Dr.  Whitsitt  and  my 
interest  in  him  is  not  abated,  in  the  least,  by  his  separation  from 
the  Seminary;  but  my  loyalty  to  the  Seminary  was  never 
dependent  upon  Dr.  Whitatt's  connection  with  it.  When  he 
went  out  my  concern  for  the  Seminary  knew  no  diminution, 
and  at  once  E  cordially  united  with  the  majority  of  the  Board 
in  an  effort  to  affect  a  speedy  and  satisfactory  reorganisation 
of  the  faculty.  I  met  only  the  most  fraternal  confidence  on 
the  part  of  those  who  had  not  stood  with  me  in  a  long  and 
painful  conflict  and  for  myself  I  can  say  that  not  from  the  night 
that  Dr.  Whitsitt's  resignation  was  accepted  have  I  con- 
sciously done  one  act  of  a  partisan  sort  to  gratify  the  friends, 
or  to  wound  the  opponents,  of  Dr.  Whitsitt,  To  have  done 
BO  would  have  shown  me  unworthy  of  my  position  as  a  trustee. 
It  was  therefore  with  stunning  surprise  that  I  found  that  there 
were  any  who  were  ready  to  claim  the  action  of  electing  Dr. 
MuUins  as  a  triumph  of  the  Whitedtt  forces;  and  when  I  saw 
that  I  was  being  paraded  as  having  been  an  actor  in  a  partisan 
fight  it  cut  me  to  the  heart.  I  never  looked  for  a  Whitsitt  man 
for  the  presidency  of  the  Seminary.  There  was  no  line  up  of 
the  Whitsitt  men  in  the  action  in  Atlanta.  Indeed  the  supreme 
anxiety  seemed  to  be  to  hit  upon  some  man  who  could  enable 
us  to  maintain  peace  in  the  Seminary  and  bring  quiet  to  our 
borders. 

"I  am  offended  by  any  attempt  to  associate  my  name  with 
any  partisan  action  in  the  Board.  The  war  is  over  with  me. 
My  party  in  the  future  will  consist  of  those  trustees  whose 
action  show  them  to  be  the  most  intense  and  unselfish  in  their 
devotion  to  the  Seminary.  My  door  will  hide  no  skeletons.  I 
nurse  no  bitter  memories  and  have  no  partisan  ends  to  serve. 
They  of  the  Whitsitt  side  who  seek  to  keep  up  the  Whitsitt 
feeling  will  not  have  me  to  run  with  tbem.  Forgetting  the 
things  that  are  behind  I  turn  my  face  to  the  future  and  renew 
my  pledges  of  loyalty  to  the  Seminary. 

"It  pains  me  to  be  before  the  public  speaking  in  this  personal 
strain;  but  an  unwillingness  to  be  misunderstood  on  this  matter 
has  constrained  me.    My  life  at  best  is  small,  and  cannot  very 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


428       LETTER  FROM  DR.  WHITSITT 

long  continue;  but  I  do  not  feel  that  I  can  consent  to  be  gib- 
beted as  a  man  'with  a  grievance',  seeking  craftily  to  nurse  a 
strife  or  punish  a  foe.  I  think  that  if  I  ever  had  any  wounds  re- 
ceived in  the  Whitsitt  conflict  they  are  thoroughly  healed  and 
the  weather  never  grows  so  stormy  as  to  make  them  pain  me  as 
once  they  did.  If  I  find  that  any  of  these  wounds  break  out 
afresh  I  will  quietly  call  the  ambulance  and  slip  away  to  the 
hospital  and  appear  no  more  until  the  doctor  discharges  me. 
If  my  troubles  grow  chronic  and  medicines  ful  me  I  will  make 
my  £nal  bow  to  the  brotherhood  and  hide  myself  in  the  home 
for  the  Incurables." 

Several  years  after  this  Dr.  Whiteitt  writes: 

"Dear  Dr.  Hatcher,— I  rarely  ever  refer  to  the  Whitsitt 
controversy  but  this  article  [on  the  leadership  of  Speaker 
Cannon]  led  me  to  review  in  my  thoughts  your  management 
of  that  issue.  There  were  one  or  two  mistakes;  but  these  were 
so  slight  as  to  possess  little  weight  in  the  general  mass  of 
incidents.  Among  American  Baptists  no  controversy  has  ever 
been  fought  so  stoutly  or  so  skillfully  and  none  has  been  more 
fruitful  of  good  results.  .  .  I  am  grateful  to  you  for  the 
noble  generalship  you  displayed  in  conductii^  it." 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  mention  that  Dr.  Hatcher's  friend- 
ship for  Dr.  Whitsitt  was  later  on  shown  in  his  leadership  of  the 
movement  to  secure  Dr.  Whitsitt  for  the  chair  of  Philosophy 
in  Richmond  College  where  the  Doctor  spent  the  remaining 
years  of  his  life  in  useful  service  and  among  his  devoted  frienda. 

The  above  record  of  the  Movement  known  as  the  "Whitatt 
Controversy"  has  been  ^ven  with  no  wish,  of  course,  to  awak^i 
any  unpleasant  memories,  to  reopen  any  old  wounds,  or  to 
make  any  unkind  reference,  but  with  the  simple  purpose  to 
show  Dr.  Hatcher's  relation  to  the  movement.  For  Dr.  Eaton 
the  champion  of  the  other  side  he  had  high  admiration  and 
respect  and  at  the  death  of  Doctor  Katon  he  wrote  a  tribute 
in  the  public  press  in  his  honor,  aaymg  among  other  things: 

"The  primal  characteristic  of  Dr.  Eaton  was  alertness.  He 
was  quick  of  foot,  quick  of  hand,  quick  of  thought,  quick  of 
tongue,  and  yet  distinct  in  utterance,  orderly  in  thought  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TRIBXJTE  TO  DR.  EATON  429 

guarded  in  movement.  His  mental  processeB  flowed  with  a 
rush,  and  his  only  draw-back  in  public  speech  waa  his  difficulty 
in  formulating  and  phrasing  his  thoughts  as  fast  as  they  came. 

"Now  that  the  activities  and  conflicts  of  his  life  are  closed, 
both  his  closest  friends  and  his  severest  critics  must  pause  in 
sober  reflection  and  readjust,  under  the  light  of  justice  and 
iove,  their  judgment  of  this  unusual,  resourceful  personality. 
Under  calm  thinking  we  shall  see  more  clearly  the  good  and 
admire  more  the  greatness  in  his  life.  We  will  gather  in  spiritual 
fellowship  about  his  tomb  and  hail  him  as  our  brother  in 
Christian  bonds,  as  a  messenger  of  the  everlasting  gospel,  as  a 
leader  in  our  Baptist  Israel,  and  as  a  warrior  in  the  battles  of  the 
Lord.  Gone  from  the  strifes  of  life  and  now  a  citizen  of  the 
eternal  city,  we  can  all  unite  in  the  hope  that  we  shall  meet  bim 
face  to  face  in  that  city  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God. 

"In  those  trying  times,"  writes  Dr.  Jeffries,  the  secretary  of 
the  Board, "when  there  was  division  among  Southern  Baptists 
and  in  the  board  over  the  Whitatt  matter,  there  waa  a  contest 
in  the  board  between  giants.  What  wrestling  that  waa!  But 
let  the  secretary,  who  had  the  trying  task  of  recording  it  all, 
bear  public  testimony  that  none  of  those  strong  men  ever  took 
unfair  hold.  These  servants  of  the  Lord,  were  contending  for 
the  right,  as  they  saw  it ;  there  was  never  in  the  board  any  of  that 
ugly  spirit  and  bitter  accusing  which  marred  press  and  speech 
of  that  time.  Dr.  Hatcher  was  spokesman  and  leader  on  one 
^de  of  that  contest." 

He  addressed  the  Baptist  Social  Union  of  Cincinnatti  on 
"The  Bi^)ti8t  of  the  Future."  He  was  a  thorough-going 
Baptist.  It  is  true  that  he  kept  the  windows  of  his  soul  open 
towards  those  of  every  christian  faith  and  mingled  with  them  in 
loving  fellowship,  but  he  stood  four  square  as  a  Baptist.  He 
gloried  in  the  history  of  his  Baptist  fathers  and  believed  in  the 
doctrines  and  in  the  futiu%  of  the  Baptists.  In  his  address  to  his 
Cincinnati  audience,  he  said: 

"The  Baptist  of  the  future  is  a  necessity.  His  name  is  on  the 
schedule  of  the  f^es  and  he  will  have  to  answer  when  called. 
The  Baptists  of  the  present  generation  have  a  large  order  on 
hand — ^far  lai^er  than  they  can  fill  by  the  time  they  will  have 
to  step  out  and  this  unfinished  business  will  be  left  to  the 
Baptist  of  the  Future." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


430      THE  BAPTIST  OF  THE  FUTUEE 

The  future  of  his  own  denomination  was  a  subject  that  oftoi 
came  before  hia  mind.  He  touched  upon  it  at  the  opening  of  his 
Cincinuatti  address  declaring  that  some  people  asserted  that 
the  time  would  come  when  all  christians  would  be  B^tiate 
and  every  church  a  Bf^itist  church.  Others  believed,  he  aaid, 
that  not  the  Baptist  name  but  the  Baptist  prindples  would 
c^ture  the  world. 

He  attempted  no  prediction  regarding  such  questions.  He 
simply  said: 

"These  are  matters  of  detail  for  the  latter  days  and  we  are  not 
prepared  to  discuaa  them.  But  there  are  things  we  know.  We 
know  that  Baptists  have  solid  reasons  for  their  existence.  They 
never  split  off  from  anybody.  They  have  been  bom  of  great 
convictions.  They  stand  for  doctrines,  fundamental  and  sadly 
overlooked  and  they  can  do  no  otherwise  than  to  uphold  the 
truth  though  it  involves  separation  from  all  others." 

He  paid  tribute  to  the  heroism  of  our  Baptist  forefathers, 
drawing  a  graphic  picture  of  old  John  Weatherford,  a  Baptist 
preacher^  of  Vii^iitnia,  who,  imprisoned  for  his  faith,  continued 
to  preach  throi^  the  jml  bars  to  the  people  on  the  outade, 
some  of  whom  would  wickedly  whack  his  hands  with  tbdr 
knives  as,  in  his  earnest  gesturing,  his  hands  would  often  be 
extended  towards  them  through  the  bars  and  would  sometimes 
sprinkle  the  hearers  with  his  blood. 

He  touched  upcm  that  branch  of  the  Baptists  known  as  the 
"Old  School  Baptists"; — ^those  whose  extreme  views  of  pre- 
destination made  them  oppose  sending  the  goffpel  to  the  heathen, 
and  who  as  a  sect  are  fast  dying  out. 

"They  built,"  says  he,  "on  the  rock  of  God's  eternal  decrees 
and  had  a  sure  foundation.  They  pressed  their  narrow  and 
icy  creed  to  their  breasts  until  it  froee  and  shriveled  their 
whole  nature.  They  have  been  run  over  and  crushed  by  the 
urgent  friends  of  the  commission  which  they  misunderstood 
and  opposed.  Alas,  they  now  hasten  to  an  extinction  which 
they  have  invited  and  made  inevitable.  Ichabod  is  writtm 
on  their  banner  and  their  dJTn'Tiifth'rg  remnant  lingers  supei> 
fluous  on  the  stage. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BAPTIST  DOCTRINES  431 

"There  are  two  ways  of  indoctrinating  others.  One  is  by 
driving  the  toith  into  those  we  viah  to  save.  We  catch  the 
anner  or  the  heretic,  growl  furiously  at  him  on  account  of  his 
badness,  threaten  him  with  ruin,  hurl  the  gospel  at  him  with 
evident  intent  to  kill  and  force  him  to  surrender  or  die. 

"We  are  learning  the  better  method, — that  of  a  bright  oon- 
ta^ous  life.  The  new  champion  of  the  truth  is  a  delightful 
gentleman.  He  recognises  the  good  in  othera,  shows  the  beauty 
of  truth  by  living  it,  stimulate  the  study  of  it  by  knowii^  it 
and  sheds  on  the  ^r  the  mellow  radiance  of  a  heaveoly  char- 
acter. ;  ,  Doctrine  wrapped  in  courtesy  and  delivered  by 
those  whose  overall  is  charity  is  robbed  of  much  of  its  repul- 


He  draws  the  line  between  sentiment  and  sentimaitalism: 

"Sentiment  is  logic  clothed  in  the  garb  of  paaaon.  But 
sentimentalism  is  sentiment  overdone;  it  is  the  exeeaa  of  feel- 
ing,  the  riot  of  passion." 

The  speaker  sees  a  brighter  day  coming: 

"The  sentimental  attitude  toward  doctrine"  says  he  "is 
weakening.  Acceptance  of  creeds  on  account  of  heredity,  or 
domestic  or  social  influences  must  disappear  before  the  reign 
of  intelligence.  Dogmas  are  not  to  be  judged  by  their  anti- 
quity or  by  their  former  popularity,  but  on  the  score  of  their 
truth.    A  Baptist  church  is  a  dismal  home  for  a  sentimentalist." 

He  was  strong  in  the  belief  that  the  doctrines  of  the  Baptists 
were  Bible  doctrines, — commanded  and  practiced  by  Christ 
and  the  Apostles,  and  consequently  he  could  not  hold  these 
truths  lightly.  While  the  New  Testament  made  him  a  Baptist 
yet  he  had  no  quarrel  with  those  who  traveled  a  different 
doctrinal  path.  In  fact  he  accorded  them  respect  for  their 
honest  c<mvictions. 

"After  all,"  says  he,  "the  best  definition  of  a  Baptist  is  a 
christian  with  the  Bible  in  his  hand  accepting  it  as  the  ultimate 
deliverance  of  God,  acknowledging  its  authority,  submitting 
to  its  requirements,  obeying  its  doctrines,  so  far  as  understood, 
and  determined  to  understand  the  rest. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


432    THE  FUTURE  OF  THE  DENOMINATION 

"Baptists  ought  to  be  the  world's  leaders  in  scientific  in- 
vestigation and  there  are  indications  that  this  will  be  the  case. 
They  are  fitted  for  the  task.  Those  who  build  upon  man-made 
creeds  and  feel  that  when  they  sign  the  creed  they  are  saved, 
would  do  well  to  avoid  the  frontiers  of  research.  They  may 
have  their  underpinning  knocked  out  by  some  fact  in  nature 
or  in  history.  But  they  who  plant  their  life  in  the  word  of  the 
living  God  are  free  and  they  are  strong,  and  you  cannot  lose 
them.  Order  them  out  on  the  front,  let  them  wrestle  with  the 
fiercest  problems  of  error  and  the  deepest  mysteries  of  nature, 
•  but  the  gates  of  hell  will  never  prevail  against  them." 

He  had  a  burning  ambition  for  the  usefulness  for  his  Denomi- 
nation: 

"Heretofore  the  Baptists  have  been  busy  with  the  primary 
questions  of  the  christian  life, — how  to  be  saved,  how  to  build 
their  houses,  how  to  bring  in  the  lost,  how  to  enjoy  liberty,  how 
to  spread  the  gospel  and  many  of  these  questions  will  continue 
to  press  upon  them,  but  the  Baptists  are  becoming  great,— 
in  numbers,  riches,  rank,  learning  and  social  power  and  they 
will  be  in  good  condition  hereafter  to  lead  in  the  world's  im- 
perial search  for  truth.  Our  grandchildren  ought  to  be  kings 
and  priests  in  the  temple  of  knowledge. 

"The  genius  of  the  Baptists  is  freedom — freedom  from 
ecclesiastical  restrictions — freedom  from  the  literalism  of 
creed — freedom  from  the  perils  of  tradition — fr^om  to  serve — 
and  freedom  to  guide.  For  this  lofty  specimen  of  manhood 
there  must  be  room  at  the  head." 

H&  brii^  bis  address  to  its  ending  by  raising  the  question 
as  to  where  the  Baptist  of  the  Future  would  come  from: 

"I  suggest  that  the  Baptist  of  the  Future  will  very  probably 
be  a  buck-eye  [Ohioan].  My  experience  of  late  in  this  giant 
growing  state  makes  me  quite  decided  in  this  forecast  of  our 
denominational  future.  But  I  am  suffering  with  an  anxiety. 
You  have  lately  discovered  such  defiant  ambition  for  pro- 
ducing Presidents  that  I  fear  you  will  get  worldly  and  lose 
your  power  to  produce  spiritual  giants.  It  may  moderate 
your  political  pride  to  know  that  Virginia  once  thought  herself 
happy  in  having  a  sort  of  monopoly  in  President-m^ing.  But 
she  haa  retired  from  that  businesa  and  gone  to  raising  Baptists 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DAYTON  AND  LOUISVILLE  433 

tind  there  is  just  a  little  whisper  in  the  breeze  which  blowti  down 
from  the  hiU-tops  of  the  future  that  the  coming  Baptist  will 
be  a  Virginian. 

"Be  this  as  it  may  at  last  turn  out  to  be,  we  are  the  Baptists 
of  today,  and  we  must  make  it  ea^  for  the  Baptist  of  tomorrow. 
Let  us  hold  our  banner  high  and  when  we  have  to  pass  it  to 
the  Baptist  of  the  future  let  it  be  so  clean  and  fair  that  he  will 
not  be  ashamed  of  the  Baptist  of  the  Past." 

From  Cincinnatti  he  turned  his  face  towards  Dayton  and 
from  thence  to  Louisville.  To  one  who  was  such  a  lover  of  his 
friends  as. was  he,  a  delicious  prospect  opened  before  him: 

"The  next  momii^",  he  writes,  "I  stole  off  to  Dayton, — 
f^r  queen  of  the  Ohio  cities  and  the  scene  of  many  tender 
memories.  Of  that  Uttle  visit  I  must  not  trust  myself  to  speak 
except  to  say  that  it  involved  a  reception,  kindly  arranged  in  the 
afternoon  by  Dr.  Colby,  a  sermon,  two  addresses,  an  exliilarat- 
ing  ride  throughout  the  embowered  streets  of  the  city,  hand- 
shakes uncounted,  reunions,  brief  (but  blessed),  mghts  of  many, 
many  friends  and  hours  of  boundless  joys  with  the  Colbys." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

1898—1900 

PASSION    FOB    DCPROVEMENT.      PBEACHERS'     HODBK    PABTT.      FOaK 

UNION  AC&DBllT  BTABTED.     BtCKNESS.      TBE  NOVEL. 

VAiUBD  IiABOBS. 

Soaa  after  he  built  bis  Siunmer  home  at  Fork  Union  his 
instinct  for  improvement  showed  itself  in  the  case  of  the  Fork 
Union  village.  He  did  not  like  its  appearance.  He  felt  that 
the  Fork  Union  people  were  equal  in  intelligence  and  reli^ous 
character  to  those  in  any  of  the  Vir^nia  communities,  but  as 
to  the  village, — there  was  a  general  need  of  whitewash,  paint 
and  repair  work.  A  meeting  of  the  people  of  the  conmiunity 
was  called  and  be  addressed  them  on  "improvement",  and 
among  the  other  results  of  bis  speech  he  kindled  in  them  an 
ambition  to  make  their  buildings  and  lots  more  attractive, 
and  in  a  very  short  time  the  brush,  the  broom  and  the  hamm^ 
began  the  work  of  transformation. 

"Your  father  came  on  Friday",  writes  my  mother,  "when 
the  young  people  of  the  neighborhood,  and  the  old  ones  as  well 
of  Fork  Union,  turned  out  en-masse.  He  made  them  a  talk 
and  things  went  well.  He  has  oi^anized  an  Improvement 
Society  here  in  Fork  Union  and  things  are  on  the  upward 
move.    The  2ad  of  September  he  will  lecture." 

His  Fork  Union  Bummer  home — "Careby  Hall,"  as  it  was 
called — was  gradually  becomii^  a  fountun  of  new  joys  to  him. 
He  had  a  "Preachers'  House  Party"  during  this  Summer  at 
Careby  Hall,  and  amoi^tbeguests  w«re  the  following  mioifltera: 
Drs.  T.  S.  Dunaway,  R.  H.  Pitt,  Jamee  B.  Taylor,  J.  R.  Bae^y, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


THE  CAEEBY  HOUSE  PAKTY         436 

Rev.  R.  H.  ^nfree  and  Rev.  H.  A.  B^by.  The  happiest  of  all 
was  the  host.  He  plunged  into  the-gamea  and  other  festivitiea 
with  the  entbusasm  of  a  boy  and  hia  enjoyment  became  con- 
tagious. 

"Careby  Hall,"  writes  Dr.  Rtt  in  the  Herald  "is  the  name 
of  the  ample  and  handsome  country  home  of  Dr.  'WiUiam  E. 
Hatcher.  It  is  beautiful  for  situation,  crowning  one  of  the  lofty 
hills  which  overlook  the  pleasant  village  of  Fork  Union,  in  the 
good  old  county  of  Fluvanna.  Thither  went  early  in  the  last 
week  a  company  of  omgemal  brethren,  by  special  invitation 
of  the  family,  to  spend  some  days  in  rest  and  recreation.  They 
were  happy  days  whose  hours  glided  away  all  too  awiftfy. 
There  were  two  public  meetings — Dr.  T.  S.  Dunnaway,  lec- 
turing in  the  day  on  'Woman'  and  in  the  evening  Dr.  Hatcher, 
told  a  large  company  of  hearers,  in  his  own  inimitable  way  of 
'Sights  beyond  the  Sea'.  As  for  our  host  he  never  seemed  so 
happy.  Surely  none  of  us  will  ever  think  of  this  pleasant 
episode  in  our  lives  without  breathing  a  benediction  on  our 
dear  and  honored  friends." 

His  interest  in  Fork  Uiuon  grew  day  by  day.  He  noticed 
that  the  boya,in  the  community  were  busy  on  the  farm,  while 
the  girls,  as  k  rule,  were  off  at  school.  This  fact  disturbed  Dr. 
Hatcher  and  one  day  during  the  House  Party,  as  he  was 
driving  some  of  the  ministers  in  his  carriage,  one  of  them, 
pointing  to  a  beautiful  grove  of  trees,  (at  Mr.  Walker  Snead'a 
home),  said:  "What  a  splendid  place  that  would  be  for  a 
school!"  He  told  them  that  an  Academy  for  Fork  Union  was 
a  matter  that  lay  heavy  upon  his  heart.  In  fact  be  informed 
them  that  he  wanted  to  begin  operataons  that  Fall. 

"That  will  be  impossible"  said  cme  of  the  ministers.  "I 
think  your  idea  of  planting  an  Acadony  here  an  excellent  cme, 
but  it  is  now  late  in  September  and  some  of  the  schools  are 
already  starting.  I  think  you  can  have  it  ready  a  year  from 
now."  To  the  surprise  of  all  he  announced  that  the  new 
Academy  would  open  its  doors  in  about  two  weeks.  The 
people  of  the  community  were  stirred  to  the  depths  by  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


436  STARTING  THE  ACADEMY 

"Charles  is  talking  and  booming  the  Academy  that  is  to  be," 
writes  my  mother  to  me  from  Fork  Union  as  late  as  September, 
27th.  "Your  father  is  to  lecture  here  on  Thursday  night  on 
'What  will  you  do  with  your  boy?'  " 

The  "Charles"  whom  she  mentions  was  Captain  Charles 
G.  Snead  and  at  this  late  day,  January  1915,  it  can  still  be 
said  that  he  is  "talking  and  booming  the  Academy."  Through 
all  these  years  he  has  been  the  same  ardeiit  friend  and  cham- 
pion and  helper  of  the  school. 

"Fork  Union  is  alive  with  enthusiasm  about  the  school, — 
called  the  Academy"  writes  my  mother  on  October  9th,  "Mr. 
Martm  is  teacher, — your  father,  President  of  Board  of  Trus- 
tees, S500  is  guaranteed,  girls  and  boys  to  be  received  the  first 
year.  It  will  open  Thursday  night  with  public  exercises.  It 
is  a  promising  project." 

His  Fall  work  in  Richmond  was  now  crowding  Mm  with  iis 
duties,  but  of  course  he  came  up  to  Fork  Union  Thursday  mght 
for  the  launching  of  the  infant  Academy.  This  Academy  opened 
for  him  a  fresh  source  of  happiness  by  giving  to  him  a  new 
opportunity  for  helping  boys.  Through  all  his  ministerial 
life  he  had  been  picking  up  boys,  putting  his  loving  impress 
upon  them,  and  if  possible,  firing  them  with  an  ambition  for 
an  education  and  a  useful  life.  From  this  time, — more  and  more 
— it  came  to  be  one  of  Ms  habits,  while  out  on  his  trips  through 
Virginia,  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  boy  for  Fork  Union.  "I 
stop  at  Careby  Hall  today  for  sorely  needed  rest"  he  writes 
me  on  November  15th,  "I  have  a  new  boarder  for  the  Academy 
on  the  train  with  me."  The  name  of  that  new  boarder  is  not 
given,  but  he  was  the  forerunner  of  a  long  proces^on  of  pupils 
whom  he  brought  to  the  Academy. 

The  early  pages  of  this  bic^aphy,  in  telling  the  story  of  Dr. 
Hatcher's  conversion,  wh^i  a  fourteen  year  mountain  boy, 
told  of  his  moonlight  walk  to  his  country  church  on  a  Saturday 
n^ht  when  he  was  overtaken  by  a  man,  Munroe  Hatcher,  who 
explained  to  him,  m  ^mple  fa^on,  the  plan  of  salvation  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MTINROE  HATCHER  437 

in  that  way  led  him  to  Christ.  Almost  Sfty  years  had  passed 
since  that  mght  and  Munroe,  now  an  old  man,  was  still  living. 
He  heard  one  day  that  the  Baptist  General  Association  of  the 
state  was  to  meet  in  Lynchburg, — not  very  far  away.  He 
knew  that  it  would  probably  be  the  last  chance  that  he,  at  his 
advanced  age,  would  ever  have  of  attending  the  Association, 
and  BO  he  went,  and  on  Saturday  morning  in  the  Association, 
Dr.  Hatcher's  eye,  as  it  moved  over  the  throng,  fell  upon  his 
aged  benefactor,  Mimroe.  At  a  certain  point  in  the  prodceed- 
ings  he  arose  and  said: 

"Brother  moderator,  about  fifty  years  ago,  in  the  adjoining 
county  of  Bedford,  when  I  was  an  awkward  country  boy 
burdened  about  my  sins  and  groping  for  the  Ught,  a  man  met 
me  one  night  and  in  gentle,  kindly  fashion  led  me  to  the  Savior. 
His  name  was  Mimroe  Hatcher  and  I  see  him  in  the  audience 
this  morning.  I  beg  pardon  for  the  seeming  egotism  but  I  feel 
that  I  must  acknowledge  my  immeasurable  debt  to  him  here 
before  you  all." 

As  he  siud  that,  he  called  the  name  of  Munroe  Hatcher  and 
the  old  man  was  asked  to  come  forward.  I  can  see  him  now, — 
tall  and  rugged  looking — pushing  his  way  through  the  throng 
to  the  platform  and  receiving  from  Dr.  Hatcher  his  grateful, 
loving  handgrasp  before  the  people.  No  sooner  was  this  done 
than  the  delegates,  as  if  by  a  common  impulse,  moved  to  the 
front  to  give  the  Bedford  veteran  their  affectionate  greeting. 
There  were  not  many  dry  eyes  and  it  was  a  picture  not  easily 
erased  from  the  memory  of  those  who  witnessed  it. 

The  Herald,  after  telling  of  the  greeting  that  was  given  by 
the  Association  to  Munroe  Hatcher,  thus  continued: 

"It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  just  a  few  ^ours  before,  while 
attJng  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  church  at  Opelika, — far  away 
in  Alabama,— Dr.  W.  C.  Bledsoe,  the  honored  Secretary  of  the 
Board  of  State  Missions,  had  told  the  writer  the  story  of  his 
conversion.  He  was  a  Confederate  soldier  on  furlough  in 
Fluvanna,  and  at  old  Fluvanna  church  he  heard  a  sermon  from 
Dr.  Hatcher  which  touched  his  heart  and  led  him  to  inquire 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


438     ENTERING  THE  NEW  BUILDING 

the  way  of  salvation.  'I  can  never  forget'  he  eaid  'how  tenderly 
and  sympathetically  Hatcher  led  me  out  of  the  darkness  into 
the  light,  and  how  fervently  he  prayed  for  me  out  under  the 
trees  in  the  neighborhood.'  Thus,  from  the  work  of  this  faith- 
ful old  man  in  Bedford,  who  led  Dr.  Hatcher  to  Christ,  the 
lines  of  influence  have  gone  out  into  this  distant  state." 

"Hampton,  Va.,  November  16th,  1898. 

"Mt  Dear  Doctor, — ^At  the  meeting  of  the  Association 
[at  Lynchburg].  .  .  it  gave  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to 
notice  how  much  you  are  honored  and  how  greatly  you  are 
f^preciated  by  our  brethren.  I  hope  that  our  God  for  many 
yeara  will  permit  you  to  give  your  valuable  services  to  our 
brethren.  I  envy  you  the  opportunities  you  have  for  doing 
good  and  your  great  common  sense  and  tact. 

"As  regards  the  Main  Building  at  the  Orphanage  for  her 
[his  deceased  wife]  and  for  the  Master's  sake,  I  will  be  one 
of  twenty  to  give  $1,000  to  erect  a  120,000  building. 

"With  the  prayer  that  our  God  will  spare  you  for  many  years 
to  our  denomination. 

"Yours  Fraternally, 

"Henry  L.  Schmels." 

To  Dr.  E.  W.  Hunt  ha  writes  on  November  25th: 

"My  lad  Coleman,  who  enlisted  in  the  army,  is  home  and  we 
are  happiness  embodied  over  his  get  back.  He  is  quite  a 
satisfactory  youth  in  several  respects. 

"By  the  way  I  have  another — ^juet  taken  and  full  of  promise. 
If  I  had  that  little  Paul  in  hand  also  I  would  be  h^py," 

He  had  the  great  joy  on  December  1 1th,  of  entering  his  new 
church  building, — not  the  auditorium,  but  the  Sunday  School 
room;  but  this,  with  its  many  «de  rooms,  fumi^ed  ample 
attractive  accommodations.  Many  hearts  in  BJchmond  re- 
joiced that  dsy  that  the  Grace  Street  church,  with  their  brave 
pastor, — BO  long  without  their  own  church  building — ^were  once 
more  entering  a  beautiful  structure  of  their  own  at  thdr  old 
comer  at  Foushee  and  Grace  Streets.  Concerning  the  dedi- 
cation and  the  new  edifice  the  Herald  saya: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


GRACE  STREET  BAPTIST  CHURCH  AS  REBUILT 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


THE  HANDSOME  STRUCTURE         439 

"Ab  a  piece  of  architectural  beauty  the  great  building,  with 
its  handsome,  brown-Btone  trimmings,  its  rounded  walls,  its 
lofty  and  beautiful  spire  and  its  masaive  doors  and  numerous 
windows  is  the  admiration  of  Richmond. 

"By  the  special  request  of  his  brethren,  Dr.  Hatcher  preached 
the  sermon.  His  text  was  'For  the  Father  seeketh  such  to 
worship  him"  and  the  theme  of  his  seimon  was  'God  the 
Father,  seeking  for  true  worshippers.'  There  was  profound 
feeling  during  the  seimon  and  it  looked  as  if  the  hand  of  God 
had  touched  the  vast  audience. 

"At  his  church  meeting  on  Monday  night  Dr.  Hatcher  de- 
clared that  his  church  was  a  harp  of  a  ^ousand  strings  and 
if  one  was  discordant  he  did  not  know  it." 

He  took  great  deUght  in  his  grandchildren.  He  thus  writes 
concerning  "Virginia,"  one  of  Kate's  daughters: 

"Vir^ia  is  a  dashing  genius.  She  has  a  most  exalted 
opinion  of  her  ganfaver  and  of  course  that  shows  that  she 
knows  a  first  class  article  when  she  sees  it  in  a  front  window." 

He  delivered  a  series  of  addresses  in  January  at  Mercer 
Oniverfflty,  and,  a  month  later,  he  aided  Dr.  W.  W.  Landrum 
in  meetings  at  his  church  in  Atlanta,  and  also  preached  the 
dedication  sermon  at  Dr.  L.  G.  Broughton's  new  Tabernacle. 
My  marriage  to  Miss  Anna  Denson  of  Norfolk  occured  on 
March  28th;  he  performed  the  ceremony,  and  regarding  his 
new  daughter-in-law  he  wrote  me  a  few  weeks  later: 

"Tell  Anna  that  I  have  been  unaccountably  happy  of  late — 
somewhat  to  my  surprise.  There  seems  no  local  cause  for  any 
extra  enjoyment  on  my  part.  In  fact  my  bothers  have  been 
swarming.  It  is  unaccountable  that  I  should  be  in  such  a 
radiant  mood — unless  it  be  that  I  am  so  proud  of  my  new 
dai^hter.  Possibly  that  is  what  is  the  matter  with  me.  But, 
of  course,  the  matter  of  this  blissful  mood  continuing  may  de- 
pend a  deal  upon  the  way  she  treats  Careby  this  Summer." 

In  a  letter  to  his  wife,  after  saying  that  he  does  not  know 
what  to  do  about  hia  well  at  Careby  he  adds:  "I  may  send  the 
trap  this  week  or  next.   But  that  ia  another  puzzle  and  I  must 


iiyGoot^lc 


440  THE  FALL  CAMPAIGN 

take  time  on  puzzles  when  they  grow  three  in  a  hill."  Another 
of  his  pastor  friends  departed  from  Richmond — Dr.  L.  R. 
Thomhill: 

"The  going  of  Thornhill  breaks  a  holy  tie  with  me.  la 
many  things  he  is  far  more  to  me  than  any  other  man  in  the 
Minister's  conference.  We  know  each  other  and  I  believe  in 
him  with  a  faith  that  would  suffer  martyrdom  if  necessary. 

"My  intimates  are  not  numerous  these  days  and  my  isolation 
is  not  always  tempered  by  the  thought  that  a  brother  is  in 
easy  reach  if  I  need  comfort.  But  men  ought  not  to  be  weak 
enough  to  yearn  for  sympathy. 

"Dr. is  here.    I  have  been  giving  him  attention. 

He  is  sober  and  fond  of  quiet.  I  am  too  much  of  a  rusher  for 
him.    I  would  wear  him  out  before  I  got  my  blood  up." 

The  Fall  campaign  is  always  s  straining  season  in  a  pastor's 
career.  After  writing  of  the  sensational  efforts  of  some  des- 
perate pastors  to  drum  up  a  Sunday  night  throng,  he  says: 

"Truly  it  is  a  tough  thing  to  be  a  pastor  at  any  time.  It 
looks  as  if  you  may  do  as  you  will  and  then  be  quite  sure  that 
you  ought  to  have  done  some  other  way.  Arrow  shooting 
among  the  members  is  at  its  best  during  the  Autumn  and  few 
pastors  escape  the  fusillade.  Do  what  they  may,  they  are 
called  to  nervousness  and  prone  to  resign  during  the  Fall 
days." 

He  spoke  in  October  at  the  inauguration  of  Dr.  B.  Y.  MuUius 
as  President  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminary  in 
Louisville,  saying  of  Dr.  MuUins,  in  the  course  of  his  address, 
"He  is  blind  to  incidents,  but  faces  issues", — a  statement  that 
would  be  singularly  applicable  to  himself.  In  his  leadership  of 
a  movement  he  generally  kept  his  tire  for  the  main  attack. 

"I  started  a  movement  several  weeks  ago,"  he  writes,  "to 
build  an  Academy  building  [at  Fork  Union]  to  cost  $3,000  and 
wc  have  about  12,000  already  promised. 

"I  get  very  tired  and  actually  feel  the  weight  of  years  upon 
my  shoulders.  But  what  a  small  difference  my  dropping  out  of 
the  procession  will  make." 

The  details  of  the  pastorate  now  str^ned  him  heavily. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


GRANDFATHER  AND  VIRGINIA 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


NEARING  THE  STEEP  OF  THE  HILL  441 

At  the  GeDeral  Association  in  Richmond  in  November 
vifflting  miniBterH, — former  Virginians — ^were  introduced  to  the 
body  one  day  by  the  preddent,  after  which  Dr.  Hatcher  created 
a  burst  of  laughter  by  saying: 

"Brother  Moderator,  I  think  it  would  be  appropriate  to 
aing  the  hymn : 

'Aa  long  as  the  lamp  holds  out  to  bum 
The  vilest  sinner  may  return?' " 

"During  the  recent  meeting  of  the  General  Association" 
writes  Rev.  R,  A.  Tucker.  "Dr.  William  E.  Hatcher,  that 
great  friend  of  all  stru^ling  interests  made  a  statement  concern- 
ing this  object  [The  Fisher  Memorial]  and  took  a  coUecti(Hi 
for  the  same." 

"My  health  is  not  by  any  means  bouyant"  he  writes  to  me 
"and  my  spirits  have  a  contemptible  way  of  getting  dismally 
down.  At  times  I  stagger  under  my  burdens  and  almost  sigh 
for  rest.     It  may  be  laziness  and  I  must  discourage  it." 

Nearer  and  nearer  he  is  drawing  to  the  top  of  his  steep  pas- 
toral hill.    He  writes  me:  . 

"I  have  read  what  you  wrote  about  Inspiration.  It  is  a  far 
reaching  question  and  you  ought  to  read  up  all  shades  of 
opinion — get  the  latest  results  "of  conservative  christian  scholar- 
ship on  the  subject.  Of  course  you  need  to  know  thoroughly 
the  history  of  the  make  up  of  the  Bible,— AoiA  TestamerUs. 
Anything  you  publish  on  that  matter  needs  mature  study  and 
much  revision.  It  is  a  great  theme  and  you  may  make  great 
dehverauces  but  be  sure  of  your  ground." 

To  my  wife  he  writes: 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Deoember  11th  1899. 

"My  lovely  Anna, — Your  letter  was  a  gem  and  I  am  a 
monster  for  not  taking  the  first  trwn  for  Norfolk.  But  you 
know,  my  little  dear,  that  things  arc  not  in  a  Millennial  shape. 
Other  things  rank  my  health,  in  point  of  value,  and  my  aches 
have  to  go  oo. 

"By  the  way  we  are  thinking  of  going  to  the  Hut  in  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


442       THE  CLIMAX  OF  THE  STRAIN 

Brush  called  'Careby'  for  Christmas.  .  .  Of  course  you 
will  be  there, — ^you  and  the  young  man  who  over-married  turn- 
self.    That  is  understood. 

"Yours, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

The  death  of  Mr.  Moody,  the  great  evangelist,  touched 
him  deeply.  He  wrote  in  the  Herald  on  January  11th,  a 
tribute  to  him: 

"Moody  was  a  magnet.  .  .  The  best  and  the  worst 
believed  in  him.  He  was  the  matchless  leveler.  He  was  a 
fountwn  of  healing  waters  and  seemed  to  cure  all  manner  of 


"I  have  flopped  around  in  a  noisy  and  unproductive  way 
since  Christmas"  he  writes  "and  apparently  the  world  wiU 
have  no  occasion  to  build  any  lofty  shaft  to  commemorate 
my  useful  services  to  mankind.  For  one  thing.  I  waa  struck 
with  a  mania  to  write  a  novel  and  have  on  hand  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pages  of  it  with  which  to  annoy  my  friends. 
Of  course  it  will  not  disturb  the  serenity  of  succeeding' genera- 
tions." 

A  novell  That  is  his  latest  venture;^ — but  more  about  this 
later. 

"Dr.  Hatcher",  says  the  Herald  "had  planned  to  leave 
Richmond  for  AtJanta  this  week  to  help  Dr.  McDonald  in 
special  services  there.  On  Sunday,  however,  he  was  taken  with 
a  ^arp  sickness  from  which  he  is  still  suffering.  Hia  phydciaa 
Dr.  H.  Wythe  Davis,  says  that  rest  is  imperative  for  him." 

At  last  the  climax  comes, — the  climax  of  the  stnun  and 
burdens  of  a  twenty  five  years'  pastorate  in  connection  with 
multitudes  of  other  activitiea.  He  drops  under  the  load  and 
is  laid  upon  his  bed  of  sickness  and  in  a  short  while  the  doctor 
orders  him  off  to  the  rest  and  quiet  of  Careby  Hall,  his  country 
home.  No  sooner  does  he  arrive  at  Fork  Union,  ill  thot^h  he 
was,  than  he  begins  to  trun  some  of  the  Sunday  School  boys 
for  a  dialogue. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SICK  AT  FORK  UNION  443 

"This  morning  I  have  Uid  out  a  tittle  work"  he  viites — 
"a  short  dialogue  for  EUis  and  Claude  Snead — a  deep  secret 
known  to  none.    They  are  to  say  it  at  the  B.  Y.  P.  U." 

"FoEK  Union,  Va.,  February  8,  1900, 

"Mt  Db&b  ELDBntOE, — I  hare  played  the  solitary  and 
soothed  my  fretting  nerves  by  the  lightest  reading  that  I  could 
hit  upon.  Bepose  is  my  best  ointment  and  sleep  my  medicine. 
I  hope  by  next  week  to  be  ready  for  the  storm  and  clash  of 
battle  again. 

"Careby  Hall  is  beautiful.  Winter  cannot  blight  its  charms. 
...  I  ought  to  say  that  my  people  have  been  wonderfully 
sweet  and  anxious  during  my  sickness. 

"(Kight  at  this  point  I  was  interrupted  by  a  posse  of  Academy 
boys  who  came  to  call  upon  me.) 

"I  must  say  that  the  Academy  is  a  flower  of  Paradise.  .  .  . 
We  are  set  on  having  a  new  building  for  next  year  which  will 
cost, — say  $4,000. 

"I  have  been  writing  a  story  this  winter.  It  lacks  much  of 
completion,  though  it  is  now  about  130  pages  on  type  writer. 
You  must  bear  a  fragmrait  of  it  when  we  meet." 

My  wife  and  I  spent  nearly  a  week  with  Mm  at  Fork  Union 
during  his  Careby  sickness  and  had  the  pleasure  of  hearii^ 
him  read  the  novel — or  rather  that  part  of  the  novel — which 
be  had  written. 

The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  the  Foi^  Union  village,  which, 
in  the  story,  is  called  Tresden  Lodge.  Evidently  his  favorite 
character  in  the  novel  is  "Burton,"  the  village  store  keeper 
and  post-master,  who  was  constantly  doing  unsuspected  kind- 
nesses and  who  seemed  to  have  a  mortal  horror  of  being  caught 
in  the  act.  The  novel  opens  with  a  description  of  Burton  and 
thus  continues: 

"On  the  day  our  story  opens  a  new  padlock  seemed  to  have 
been  put  on  Burton's  lips.  His  new  clerk,  Frank  Copeland, 
said  to  the  wagon  driver:  'The  boss  hasn't  spoken  but  once 
this  blessed  morning.'  He  failed,  however,  to  tell  the  whole 
story  for  he,  Frank,  had  buttressed  himself  against  a  post  and 
had  had  his  hands  in  his  pockets  for  a  full  hour  when  Burton 
strolled  solemnly  by   and  gently, — ahnoat  apologetically — 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


444  ms  NOVEL 

inquired  of  his  new  clerk:  'Young  man,  were  you  born  with 
your  hands  in  your  pockets,  or  were  the  pockets  built  aroimd 
your  hands  at  a  later  period?' 

"Frank  felt  a  shiver  and  a  jar  and,  in  his  confuaon,  he  slipped 
up  to  his  room  in  the  second  story  and  sewed  his  pockets  up. 

"Burton  had  just  finished  opening  and  distributing  the  mail 
when  a  quick  step  was  heard  at  the  front  door  and  a  stranger 
strode  in  and  moved  on  the  post-master  as  if  he  had  a  private 
quarrel  to  settle.  The  new-comer  was  short  and  full,  his  pants 
were  stuffed  in  his  boots,  his  necktie  was  having  a  quiet  Sat- 
urday at  home  and  his  huge  bu^y  whip  trwled  on  the  floor 
behind  him. 

"Fastening  his  eye  on  Burton,  this  stranger  approached 
him  and  asked: 

"Is  there  a  letter  in  the  office  for  Carp  Klenshaw? 

"Burton  commenced  slowly  to  run  through  the  letters.  The 
stranger  was  carrying  a  surplus  of  vitafity  and  after  a  season 
he  popped  several  flippant  questions  at  Burton: 

"  'How  d'you  like  being  post-master  and  store-keeper  both?' 

"No  response  from  Burton. 

"  'Got  many  folks  that  come  to  your  place  for  th^  mail?' 

"These  questions  and  others  secured  no  recognition,  whatever, 
from  the  imperturbable  Burton.  Irritated  by  the  obstinate  d- 
lence  of  the  postmaster  the  stranger  finally  remarked  to  Burton : 

"  'Well  I  notice  you  seem  inflated  about  your  stomach  and 
so  I  guess  you  have  swallowed  your  voice." 

"BurtcHi  flashed  one  momentary,  satyrical  glance  at  the 
stranger,  but  uttered  not  a  word  and  gave  no  ^gn  that  he  was 
in  the  least  affected  by  the  remark. 

"  'I  beheve'  said  Burton  'that  your  name  is  Carp  Klenshaw. 
Was  not  that  what  you  swd  when  you  first  came  in?' 

"His  words  were  slow  and  measured. 

"  'That  is  the  name  I  used  to  be  called  by  when  I  Uved  in  a 
country  where  folks  know  how  to  talk,'  said  the  aggressive 


"By  this  time  Burton  had  fished  out  a  letter  with  Carp 
Elenshaw's  name  on  it. 

"  'Stranger  about  here?'  he  asked  as  he  handed  the  letter 
to  Klenshaw  with  a  look  that  su^ested  conciliation. 

"  'Happy  day'  said  the  stranger,  'I  am  delighted  that  you 
have  coughed  up  your  voice.  It  seems  not  to  be  in  good  order. 
You  had  better  throw  her  up  on  the  shed  and  let  her  dry.' 

"  'How  loi^  since  you  bought  a  controlling  interest  in  my 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ms  NOVEL  445 

natural  faculties?'  inquired  the  unruffled  Burton,  as  he  put 
the  package  of  letters  back  in  their  place  and  wiped  a  little 
dust  from  the  desk.    After  &  long  pause  he  added: 

"  'I  always  understood  that  the  human  voice  was  a  device  of 
nature  to  produce  speech,  but  not  designed  primarily  to  rattle.' " 

"These  words  did  not  strike  Klenshaw  as  signifying  much, 
but  they  gave  him  a  sort  of  inward  wrench.  It  looked  as  if  he 
had  been  tampering  with  an  electric  battery.  He  found  him- 
self instinctively  respecting  Burton,  though  he  rather  wished 
that  he  might  frame  an  excuse  for  hating  him.  It  occured  to 
him  that  he  ought  to  laugh  it  away  before  they  parted,  but  it 
minified  him  to  find  that  be  was  so  helpless.  Usually  he  had 
been  able  to  hold  his  own  with  ail  comers.  But  Burton  was 
inacceaable.  As  a  final  expedient  he  said  in  a  tone  at  once 
^wlogetic  and  defiant: 

"  'It  looks  ae  if  my  playful  remarks  have  given  offense  where 
none  was  intended.  Hereafter  I  will  be  more  careful  in  my 
dealings  with  thin-skinned  animals.' 

"A  pale  and  serene  smile  flickered  on  Burton's  brow.  He 
was  in  full  charge  of  himself,  but  he  was  not  unwilling  to  have 
an  occa^onal  contest. 

"  'My  father  once  had  a  blooded  boar'  said  Burton  'that 
undertook  to  bite  off  a  shovel  handle.  He  broke  his  tusk  and 
swallowed  it  and  my  father  said  that  he — the  boar — ^had  inward 
pains  all  his  life.    If  you  are  suffering  I  will  give  you  a  pill.' 

"  'I  suppose  that  means  that  I  am  the  boar  and  you  are 
the  shovel  handle'  said  the  baffled  Klenshaw  'and  I  believe 
that  is  about  the  edze  of  it.  I  see  you  are  a  dangerous  customer 
to  monkey  with.  Give  me  one,  sweet  smile  and  we  will  take 
another  chance  at  each  other  some  other  day.' 

"  'Just  as  you  say'  spoke  Burton  with  a  su^estjon  of  warmth 
in  his  manner." 

The  story  then  proceeds  to  tell  how  Klenshaw  walked  out 
on  the  porch  of  the  store  and  spied  two  horses  dtwhing  down  the 
road  towards  the  store  at  break-neck  speed.  They  were  hitched 
to  a  carriage  in  which  was  seated  a  beautiful  young  lady  with 
her  old  aunt  and  both  of  the  ladies  were  terror-stricken.  Klen- 
shaw rushed  into  the  middle  of  the  road,  leaped  for  the  reins, 
and  managed  finally  to  stop  the  horses,  but,  in  the  struggle, 
his  shoulder  was  dislocated.  He  was  tenderly  taken  in  hand  by 
Burton  and  much  agtunst  hia  wiahes,  was  carried  to  Burton's 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


446  HIS  NOVEL 

room  over  the  store  where  he  was  given  every  possible  attenticai. 
The  second  chapter  opens  with  Klenshaw  stretched  out  on 
BTiiton'B  snowy  bed  and  a  darkey  about  to  raiter  the  room  as 
Klenahaw's  nutse. 

"An  interesting  figure  appeared  in  the  door — an  aged  negro, 
unqualified  in  his  biaclmess,  but  clean  as  a  new  penny  and  with 
a  manner  almost  r^al  in  its  dignity.  His  garb  told  of  better 
days  and  showed  that  the  brush  could  help,  if  it  could  not 
renew,  an  old  ganuent,  and  as  he  came  in  be  made  a  bow  that 
was  gracious  as  well  as  submis^ve. 

"  'Skuae  me  sar'  the  old  negro  s^d  with  a  majestic  wave  of  his 
right  hand;  'M&tb  Burt'n  sont  me  ter  stay  wi'  you  durin'  your 
ilmess,  an  sar,  her'  I  ia.  My  name  is  Isrel  Brookley;  I  bajs 
de  nam  uv  ni'ole  mars'  Cul'  Arthiu-  Brookley  who  hved  at 
Granite  Cliff  on  the  lower  plantation. 

"  'Well'  s^d  E^eoshaw  evidently  confounded  by  the  kindness 
of  Burton  who  never  took  the  paina  to  consult  his  wishes, 
'Mr.  Burton  is  far  freer  with  his  acta  than  hia  words.  It  is 
more  than  I  am  used  to  to  be  waited  on  and  I  hardly  think  that 
I  need  you.  Anyhow  I  wish  you  would  kinder  alip  my  hand 
around  to  see  if  it  will  get  over  its  numb  feeling.  It  hurts  like 
forty." 

"Israel  was  a  skilled  nurse.  He  had  handled  mm  for  ackness, 
for  wounds  and  for  nocturnal  revels  at  Grsiiite  Cliff.  He 
slid  hia  ann  under  the  pillow,  changed  its  position,  altered 
the  angle  at  the  elbow  and  gave  a  lick  or  two  at  the  bolster 
and  instantly  Klenshaw  felt  a  sense  of  reUef  that  was  dehghtful. 
In  a  minute  he  was  fast  asleep  and  Israel  quietly  sought  a  chaa 
and  sat  down.  Presently  the  sleeper  began  to  stir  and  to  abow 
aigna  of  suffering.  In  a  twinkle  the  watchful  nurse  was  at  his 
side  and  put  his  hand  on  the  brow  of  the  patient.  Its  effect 
was  instantaneous  and  for  an  hour  he  stood  there  stroking 
the  temple  of  the  sleeper. 

"  'You  think  I  have  been  aaleep,  do  you?'  asked  Klenshaw. 

"  'No;  aar;  I  know'd  you  wamt  'sleep.  I  seed  dat  frum  de 
blow  uv  your  breff,  but  you  was  quiit  and  dat  was  de  med'dn 
you  oughter  had.' 

"Klenshaw  was  a  Pennsylvanian  and  had  just  come  to 
Vir(pnia,  a  few  weeks  before,  to  saw  up  a  lot  of  white-oak 
timber  which  hia  company  had  bought  on  the  other  edde  of 
Benton  Creek.  As  for  the  negroes  be  had  no  sentiment  in 
their  favor.    He  had  heard  they  would  not  work,  were  great 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  NOVEL  447 

believers  in  ghosts,  spent  meet  of  their  time  in  religious  revela 
and  were  as  truly  barbariana  as  if  they  had  been  brought  in  on 
the  last  ship  from  Africa. 

"The  Bight  of  the  venerable  old  negro  was  not  pleasing  to  him. 
He  did  not  know  bow  to  treat  this  hoary  son  of  Africa. 

"  'You  and  Mr.  Burton  been  together  all  your  lives?'  be 
asked  as  a  starter. 

"  'Lord  bless  you,  No,  aar,  we  wnt;  I'se  ole  aough  to  be  Mist' 
Burt'n's  grand  father'  excl^med  Israel.  'His  father  was  my  ole 
mars'  overseer.  He  didn'  have  nothin'  ter  do  wid  me  tbo'  'cause 
I  staid  at  de  house.    I  was  de  Cumill's  hostler  sar.' 

"  'You  dont  mean  that  you  were  ever  one  of  them  Southern 
slaves?'  asked  Klenshaw. 

"  'Mi^t  I  arsk  you  wat  your  name  is,'  put  in  Israel  almost 
glaring  at  him,  'I  mean  no  disrespec'  but  I  finds  it  bard  to 
d'rect  my  talk  to  an  unbeknown  gen'Imun'. 

"  'My  name  is  Klenshaw'  said  the  individual  involved  'and 
if  it  wiU  in  any  way  guide  your  aim  in  talking  1  will  say  also 
that  you  are  the  first  slave  that  I  ever  met  and  I  would  like 
to  hear  what  you  have  to  say  about  yourself.' 

"  'S'kuse  me,  Mr. ;  what  you  call  yourself?'  broke 

out  the  confused  Israel. 

"  'Klenshaw'  the  owner  of  the  name  repeated. 

"  'Tank  you  sar'  said  Israel  smiling  in  spite  of  himself;  'dat 
is  a  fine  sounding  name.  Did  your  father  ever  live  up  the 
James  river?  Seems  to  me  that  I've  beam  of  the  name  of  the 
;  I  mean  the  family  of  that  name.' 

"  'Do  not  strain  your  mind  old  man  about  my  name  or  about 
n^  family,'  said  ibe  frank  and  honest  Pennsylvanlan.  'My 
family  is  a  broken  stick  and  I  smell  of  the  saw  mill.  So  you 
need  not  try  to  tie  me  on  to  any  high  folks.' 

"Israel  was  dumbstruck.  He  had  grown  up  In  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  Viiginia  Aristocracy.  Poverty  to  him  for  years 
looked  like  a  badge  of  shame  for  white  people." 

Thus  the  story  moved  along  with  its  dialogues  and  its  char- 
acter sketches.  He  wrote  several  chapters  but  his  return  to 
Bichmond,  where  clamorous  duties  awaited  him,  seemed  to 
close  the  door  to  any  further  work  on  the  story. 

"For  months"  he  writes  Orie  from  Careby  "I  have  had  a 
measure  of  nwvous  depression  which  at  times  has  been  crit- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


448  ADDRESS  AT  HOT  SPRINGS 

ical  and  I  am  anxious  to  be  stronger — if  I  am  ever  to  be — 
before'I  take  up  my  burdens," 

He  returned  to  Richmond  and  plunged  afresh  into  his  work. 
He  writes: 

"My  cares  over  the  Academy  and  the  Orphant^e  have  been 
very  oppressive  and  are  yet  and  I  am  thinkii^  of  unloading." 

How  often  during  these  paaang  years  he  would  threaten 
himself  with  an  "imloadlng";  but  the  skies  would  afterwards 
clear  up  and  the  unloading  be  postponed. 

At  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  in  Hot  Sprii^s,  Ark., 
in  May  he  showed  his  resourcefulness  as  a  spe^er. 

The  Baptist  Courier  thus  refers  to  the  incident: 

"Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher,  the  Grand  Old  Man  of  Vii^nia  Baptists, 
had  for  his  theme  'A  Century  of  Baptist  Preachers.'  Dr. 
Hatcher  had  been  in  delicate  health,  had  not  intended  coming 
to  the  Convention,  and  had  forgotten  about  the  address  ex- 
pected of  him,  until  he  was  reminded  after  reaching  the  grounds. 
His  address  on  'Century  Day'  was  wholly  extemporaneous, 
and  seemed  to  be  almost  entirely  impromptu.  It  came  alongside 
of  the  capital  speeches  of  Drs.  Carroll  and  McDonald.  I  am 
safe  in  saying  that  I  never  heard  an  impromptu  speech  of  such 
sparkling  vivacity,  humor,  wit,  pathos,  and  wisdom.  Surely 
no  other  man  in  the  Convention  could  have  done  it. 

"Dr.  Hatcher  has  in  wonderful  d^ree  the  elements  of  Christian 
leadership.  There  are  in  him  maturity,  wisdom,  judgement, 
magnetism,  and  unfailing  resource,  together  with  an  evident 
sweet  humility  learned  of  the  Master." 

One  paper  stated: 

"Rev.  W.  E.  Hatcher  introduced  as  belonging  to  the  whole 
South,  but  temporarily  located  at  Richmond  made  one  of  the 
most  facetious,  happy,  eloquent  speeches  of  the  Convention, 
bis  subject  being  'A  Century  of  Baptist  Preachers.' 

The  new  child  of  his  heart,  the  Fork  Union  Academy,  had 
now  reached  its  first  Commencement,  and  as  he  presided  on 
that  occasion  he  was  exhuberantly  happy. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HELPING  THE  NEEDY  BOYS        449 

"I  am  just  home  from  the  Commencement  of  the  Fork 
Union  Academy  which  occurred  on  Tuesday"  he  writes  me; 
"Prof.  Mitchell  was  the  orator  of  the  day  and  he  really  dazzled 
the  people  by  his  eloquence  and  learning.  In  the  afternoon  we  - 
had  speeches,  music  and  dialogues  by  the  school  and  we  fairly 
ran  the  people  wild.  It  was  thrilling  to  witness  the  eager  and 
delighted  crowd.  I  had  a  reception  at  Careby  and  that  closed 
the  session.  We  are  building  the  Academy  house  and  it  is 
to  be  large  and  superb.  .  .  We  have  in  sight  a  small  flood 
of  students  for  next  year." 

Ex-Govemor  Northern  of  Georgia  wrote  him: 

"God  has  helped  you  to  bring  so  much  sunshine  into  the 
life  of  so  many  people  that  you  deserve  a  great  flood  of  it  all  the 
time  from  your  brethren.  If  the  warm  and  abiding  love  of  my 
heart  can  bring  you  any  gladness,  you  shall  have  it  in  all  thie 
devotion  of  the  moat  tender  affection." 

He  yearned  to  help  the  needy  boys  who  were  struggling  for  an 
education.  He  declared  that  the  Colleges  and  Universities  had 
millions  of  dollars  at  their  disposal,  "but  who  will  help  the 
dear  fellow  at  the  bottom"  said  he;  "There  he  is— a  country 
lad,  great  browed,  tmeociable,  gloomy  in  his  isolation,  mourning 
over  his  restrictionsf  dying  for  an  opportunity."  A  yoimg  man 
writes  him: 

"Some  time  ago,  when  on  the  train  on  your  way  to  Fork 
Union,  you  told  me  that  you  would  help  me  in  a  pecuniary 
way  if  I  wanted  to  attend  the  Seminary  this  Fall." 

The  young  man  goes  on  to  tell  of  his  decidon  to  attend  the 
Seminary  and  of  his  hope  that  Dr.  Hatcher  can  help  him.  This 
was  simply  one  of  many  such  letters  of  appeal.  During  his 
Summer  vacation  he  wrote:  "I  have  utterly  lost  the  art  of 
resting, — except  by  preaching."  Here  is  his  picture  of  a  day 
spent  in  returning  from  the  Eastern  Shore: 

"But  alafl,  think  of  me — tortured  by  the  dread  of  an  alarm 
clock,  jerked  out  of  bed  at  three-thirty  in  the  morning,  stum- 
bling drowmly  around,  and  stuffing  a  senseless  telescope  with 
bulfpng  bundles,  lumbering  down  a  dim  stairway  scrambling  into 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


480  "HAPPY  TIMES" 

8  buggy,  yawning  and  gaping  along  under  cold  and  unpitying 
stars,  peering  up  a  straight  track  to  catch  the  sight  of  the  coming 
tr^  and  finally  tumbling  into  the  cars  and  feeling  that  life  is, 
after  all,  a  mixed  affair.  That  was  the  fate  of  yours  humbly 
on  the  return  morning. 

"But  things  righted  up  fully  that  day.  I  cut  the  morning 
train  and  stopped  over  to  see  Henry  Schmelz.  My  call  had  a 
bu^ness  bads — some  perplexing  orphanage  matters;  but  Heniy 
actually  quit  the  bank,  proclaimed  a  holiday,  took  me  on  a  sail) 
showed  me  the  grim  mysteries  of  the  Hip  Raps,  made  me  the 
laughing  stock  of  the  denizens  of  the  sea  by  putting  me  to 
fishing,  gave  me  hours  of  earnest  conference  on  the  orphanage 
problem,  dined  me  at  the  hotel  and  sent  me  on  my  homeward 
way.  Friday  evening  showed  me  Richmond  and  an  assembled 
building  committee  waiting  for  me." 

In  August  his  third  grandchild,  William  E.  Hatcher,  Jr., 
was  bom. 

He  held  another  meeting  at  Wake  Forest  Collie  and  from 
there  he  wrote:  "Yesterday  will  be  remembered  as  one  of  the 
greatest  days  of  my  life."  He  had  immense  capacity  for  "hav- 
ii^  a  good  fjme." 

"Friends  do  me  ill  at  times"  he  writes  "by  chaiging  me  with 
excessive  exhuberance  in  describing  the  happiness  of  my  ex- 
periences as  I  go  forth  on  my  revival  trips.  They  say  that  I 
write  as  if  I  always  see  the  best  of  earth  and  heaven. 

"But  now  possibly  on  former  occaaionB  I  may  have  over- 
drawn my  picture,  but  this  time  I  simply  have  to  drop  to 
bottom  figures  and  use  no  extra  colors.  It  does  look  to  me  as 
clear  as  sunlight  that  my  last  trip  to  Wake  Forest  easily  eclip- 
ses all  that  ever  went  before.  Indeed  I  am  so  enraptured  by  the 
glories  of  this  last  time  that  it  almost  seems  that  my  previous 
times  must  have  been  failures. 

"I  was  at  Wake  Forest  nine  days  having  slipped  away  from 
Richmond  without  asking  my  lovely  and  tyrannical  church  if 
I  might  'go  out'.  This  I  did  because  I  was  afraid  that  if 
I  asked  permisaon  I  might  be  stood  up  in  the  comer  and  pun- 
ished for  previous  traosgressionB.  But  what  I  did  for  my  Lord 
while  I  was  gone  I  requested  should  be  put  to  the  credit  of  my 
church. 

"Bear  in  mind  that  several  famiiies  contended  for  me-^nuch 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DEATH  OF  HIS  DAUGHTER  MAY     451 

to  the  inflation  of  my  cono^t — and  I  insisted  on  staying  with  all 
of  them,  but  was  finally  suppressed  bad  kept  under  control, 
except  that  I  did  break  bread  with  the  Poteats,  the  Caddells 
and  the  Brewers." 

His  family  circle  was  broken  by  the  death  of  his  oldest 
daughter, — May,  who  for  a  long  while  had  been  an  invalid. ' 
She  died  at  Careby  Hall.  The  funeral  was  preached  by  Hev. 
W.  P.  Hines,  the  pastor  of  the  West  View  Church  in  Richnumd 
in  which  she  had  rendered  very  devoted  service, — ^first  whni 
it  was  a  Misaon  and  later  when  it  developed  into  a  church. 

He  was  not  idle  at  the  meeting  of  the  General  Associalion 
in  Bristol, — as  is  seen  bom  Dr.  Fisher's  words  in  the  Herald: 

"What  would  we  do  without  Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher?  What  a 
power  he  isl  How  easily  and  gracefully  he  brings  things  to  pass. 
He  was  never  happier  than  at  the  Bristol  meetings.'' 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTKR  XXXIV 
1900—1902 

HIS  CBINE8E  BOY.     COLEMAN  H .     DEDICATION  OF  HIH  NEW 

BUILDINQ.      ACCEPTANCE  OF  THE  RICHMOND  COLLEGE  CALL. 

REeraNATlON.      EDUCATIONAL  WORK.      LETTERS  TO 

CHILDREN.       ROCKEFELLER  CAMPAIGN. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  a  Chinese  boy,  Ah  Fong  Yeung, 
became  linked  into  his  life  in  a  very  close  and  permanent  way. 
The  boy  had  been  sent  over  to  America  to  be  tr^ed  at  BJch- 
mond  College  and,  when  diai^pointment  threatened  the  lad 
and  there  seemed  to  be  no  friend  at  hand  to  assume  his  support 
and  education,  Dr.  Hatcher  came  to  bis  rescue.  The  Herald 
thus  tells  the  stoiy; 

"Dr.  Hatcher  has  one  more  burden  on  his  shoulders,  though 
some  think  he  was  overloaded  before.  Dr.  Graves,  at  Canton, 
China,  our  veteran  misdonary  scait  over,  in  chaise  of  Brother  R. 
E.  Chambers,  a  sprightly  Chinese  boy  to  be  educated.  The  lad's 
name  is  Ah  Fong  Yeung.  He  is  fifteen  years  old,  a  son  of 
Dr.  Graves'  assistant,  is  himself  a  Baptist  and  has  been  three 
years  in  an  English  school  in  Canton.  He  hopes  to  enter 
Richmond  College  but  as  he  is  not  ready  for  that  Dr.  Hatcher 
is  asked  to  take  him  to  the  Fork  Union  Academy.  This  he  has 
done  though  he  saya  he  will  have  to  look  to  the  Lord  and  the 
BaptJBts  for  the  money.  Who  will  help  him?  One  brother 
gives  five  dollars  to  start  with.  Let  us  help  train  this  boy  for 
christian  service  in  his  native  land." 

Soon  after  Dr.  Hatcher's  decision  to  help  Ah  Fong,  the  boy 
was  taken  around  to  Dr.  Hatcher's  study  and  there  he  met  the 
one  who  was  to  be  his  friend  through  many  years.  He  thus 
dracribea  bis  visit: 

452 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  NEW  CHINESE  BOY  453 

"The  first  time  I  met  Dr.  Hatcher  was  in  the  pastor's  study 
of  the  Grace  Street  Baptist  Church.     Mr.  R.  E.  Chambers 
went  with  me.    Dr.  Hatcher  asked  me  my  name  and  age.    He 
then  asked:  'Do  you  know  how  to  read?'  I  replied: 
"  'Yes,  Sir;  a  little.' 

"He  gave  me  a  passage  from  the  Bible  to  read.  When  I 
finished  be  sfud: 

"  "That's  fine.    Are  you  home^ck?' 

"  'I  didn't  know  what  home-sick  meant;  so  he  expl^ned  it 
to  me.    He  agiua  asked: 

"  'Have  you  any  more  clothes  and  shoes?" 

"Maybe  what  I  had  on  did  not  suit  his  taste;  but  I  replied: 

"  'Yea  air;  I  have  on  a  pwr  of  shoes  and  wearing  acme 
clothes.' 

"He  smiled  at  my  answer  and  said: 

"  'Now  I  want  you  to  go  out  with  me  for  a  little  while.' 

"He  went  with  me  to  a  shoes'  store  on  Broad  Street  and 
bought  me  a  pair  of  fine  shoes;  then  he  went  with  me  to  a 
clothier  and  there  bought  me  a  suit  of  clothes,  a  stiff  bosom 
shirt  with  blue  stripes  and  a  white  collar.  I  was  thai  the 
happiest  boy  on  earth.    On  leaving  him  be  sfud: 

"  'I  will  call  on  you  in  a  few  days.' 

"Two  days  afterwards — ^Thanksgiving  Day  it  was  and 
about  two  o'clock — Dr.  Hatcher  came  around  to  Clay  Street 
where  I  was  staying  with  Rev.  R.  E.  Chambers'  mothei>^-law' 
He  said: 

"  'My  boy,  are  you  happy?  I  want  to  take  you  to  my  home 
and  introduce  you  to  the  members  of  ray  family.' 

"I  went  with  him.  I  saw  there  Mrs.  Hatcher,  Misa  Orie 
and  Miss  Edith.  When  we  entered  be  told  them:  'This  is  my 
Chinese  friend — Ah  Fong  Yeung  and  I  want  you  all  to  be  good 
to  him.'  We  were  in  the  dining  room.  The  reason  I  remember 
it  waa  Tbankagiviiig  Day  ia  because  Miss  Chie  asked  me  if  I 
would  hke  to  have  some  turkey.    I  said: 

"  'No  thank  you.' 

"Miss  Orie  thought  that  I  did  not  know  what  a  turkey  was, 
so  she  asked: 

"  'Do  you  know  what  a  turkey  is?' 

"I  rephed:    'Something  like  a  chicken.' 

"About  half  an  hour  afterward  he  took  me  back  to  Mrs. 
Hall's  home.    On  the  way  back  he  asked: 

"  'Would  you  iike  to  live  with  me?' 

"I  said:  'Yes  Sir.' 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


454  HIS  NEW  CHINESE  BOY 

"Thea  he  sud:  'In  a.few  days  I  will  come  for  you  agun  and 
you  will  th^i  be  a  member  of  my  family.  In  the  meantime 
I  want  you  to  be  a  good  boy.  I  dont  want  you  to  get  home- 
fflok — do  you  know  what  home-aick  is  now? — ^I  want  you  to  be 
always  happy  and  cheerful?' 

"In  a  few  days  he  came  around  agun. 

"  'Well,  how  is  my  friend?  Are  you  happy?  Are  you  ready 
to  go  to  my  home  now?  All  right,  I  will  get  some  one  to  come 
for  your  belongings  after  awhile.' 

"From  that  day  on  I  have  been  a  member  of  his  family. 
About  two  weeks  afterwards  he  asked  me  to  make  a  speech 
about  myaelf.  I  did  and  he  corrected  it  and  he  himself  copied 
it  for  me  from  the  typewriter.  He  then  trained  me  to  say 
Uiat  speech.  My  oratorio^  tnuning  began  right  here.  He 
asked  me  to  sing  some  Chinese  songs  for  him  at  night  when 
be  was  not  busy.  I  did.  The  songs  I  sang  that  he  liked  the 
best  were:  'Jesus  bids  us  shine  with  a  clear,  pure  light.'  'King 
the  bells  of  Heaven.'  When  he  polished  me  up  a  bit  he  tried 
me  out  at  his  Sunday  afternoon  Boys  Meeting." 

Ah  Fong  wrote  another  speech, — this  time  about  the  boya  in 
China  and  it  ran  as  follows: 

"Some  of  the  Chinese  boys  do  not  go  to  school,  not  because 
he  is  poor  and  not  because  his  parents  not  like  it,  but  because 
he  dont  Uke  to  go  to  school  but  he  only  likes  to  play  all  day 
long  and  to  throw  the  rocks.  This  boy  when  he  grow  up  a  man, 
then  he  will  be  a  b^gar  and  so  many  boys  like  that  in  Canton. 
But  I  hope  you  all  don't  do  that  and  I  hope  you  all  boys  like 
to  go  to  school,  when  you  grow  up  to  be  useful  men  in  this 
world." 

At  the  bottom  of  this  little  speech  are  written  the  words: 
"Miss  Edith  Logifood  Hatcher  required  me  to  do  that  and 

she  said  'If  you  not  do  that,  I  will  not  teach  you.' " 
Another  boy  whom  he  was  uding  in  his  education  at  this 

time  was  "Aubrey"  who  is  referred  to  in  the  following  letter 

to  his  daughter  Elisabeth  at  Fork  Union: 

"I  hope  to  see  you  Monday.  I  suppose  that  I  will  bring  up 
the  Baptist  Chinaman.  He  spent  yesterday  afternoon  with  us 
and  was  quite  a  stunning  event  in  the  houaehold. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


COLEMAN  M- 


"Tell  Tommie  and  Aubrey  that  their  letters  are  monu- 
mentally fine.  I  had  to  read  them  to  others.  Possibly  one  was 
better  than  the  other  but  who  can  tell  which  it  was." 

What  had  become  of  his  CaroUne'boy, — Coleman,  whom 
several  years  before,  he  bad  taken  into  his  home  and  educated? 
A  year  or  two  before  this,  Coleman  had  caught  the  war  fever 
and  sped  away  with  the  army  to  the  Philippines,  but  a  letter 
came  at  this  time  which  brought  good  cheer  to  Dr.  Hatcher.  It 
was  to  Mrs.  Hatcher  and  read  as  follows: 

"PozAREDBio  LczoN,  P.  I.,  December  18,  1900. 
"Dear  Mbs.  Hatcher, — I  think  of  you  every  day  and  re- 
member all  your  great  kindness  and  the  more  I  think  of  it 
the  more  I  appreciate  what  you  have  done  for  me. 

"Please  give  my  love  to  Dr.  H.  and  tell  him  that  I  am  coming 
back  to  Virginia  some  day  and  do  all  in  my  power  to  wipe 
out  any  regret  that  he  may  feel  at  having  taken  in  the  little 
orphan  boy  eight  years  agar. 

"I  am  saving  up  money  with  which  to  go  to  school  when  I 
come  back. 

"Dont  give  up  all  hope  in  me  yet.  I  sent  you  a  box  of  relics 
about  six  months  ago  which  I  thought  might  interest  you. 
Hope  you  received  them  0.  K. 

"Ever  Your  Friend, 

"J,  Coleman  M ." 

"Care  Keipmental  Hospital 

"13th  U.  S.  Infantry. 

"Manila,  P.  I." 

January  6th,  1901,  was  one  of  the  golden  days  of  his  life.  On 
that  day  occured  the  dedication  of  his  completed  church 
building.  For  two  years  hia  people  had  been  worshipping  in 
the  Sunday  School  room,  but  their  beautiful  auditorium  was 
now  finished.  It  was  a  day  crowded  with  bright  incidents. 
Telegrams,  letters  and  messages  were  received;  Dr.  Battle 
the  pastor  and  some  of  his  members  came  over  from  their 
Baptist  Church  in  Petersbui%  to  present  their  congratulations. 

"Indeed"  says  the  newspaper  "Dr.  Hatcher  came  near 
apolofpzing  for  the  rare  and  exquisite  loveliness  of  the  building." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


456    DEDICATION   OF   HIS   BUILDING 

In  one  of  the  services,  "Dr.  H-  A.  Bagby  gave  the  congregation 
a  genuine  surprise  by  breaking  into  the  service  ju^t  after  the 
dedicatory  prayer  and  presenting  to  Dr.  Hatcher  a  caae  of 
ffllver, — a  costly  and  elegant  gift — from  the  Baptist  pastors 
of  the  city."  One  of  the  features  of  the  dedicatory  exercises 
was  a  speech  by  his  Chinese  boy,  whom  he  trained  for  the 
occasion.  With  his  united,  devoted  church  and  his  magni- 
ficent building  he  faced  a  radiant  future  but, — though  he 
hardly  suspected  it — he  was  on  the  threshold  of  a  crias. 

The  dedication  was  scarcely  ended  before  ackness  laid  him 
upon  his  back  and  while  he  was  in  this  condition,  there  came  a 
call  from  Richmond  College  that  he  would  enter  the  educa- 
tional field  as  its  representative.  He  had  received  such  an  offer 
in  the  Fall  from  the  College,  but  had  replied  that  be  could 
not  accept  it.  But  now — ^now  when  an  almost  ideal  pastoral 
opportunity  opened  before  him, — his  Alma  Mater  had  renewed 
her  appeal.  For  ten  years  he  had  been  strugghng  for  an  adequate 
church  edifice  and  his  dream  was  at  last  realized,  and  yet  bis 
strained  shoulders  were  keenly  feeling  the  weight  of  the  burden. 
Shortly  before  this,  when  he  and  his  wife  were  walking  through 
the  new  auditorium  and  she  was  congratulating  him  on  having 
such  a  large  and  splenthd  audience  room  in  which  to  preach 
in  the  future,  he  remarked:  "Yes,  and  I  am  afrdd  it  will  kill 
me  trying  to  fill  it," 

"I'm  sick  and  full  of  sulTering  this  week"  he  writes  me  on 
January  25th.  "The  Grippe  has  used  me  badly  and  for  several 
days  I  have  been  in  torture  from  aeute  rheumatism.  .  .  I 
wish  I  could  see  the  little  Norfolk  family.  Can't  you  send  Wm. 
E.  Jr.  up  for  a  little  visit?" 

One  adds  to  this  note  "Can't  you  come  yourself?  I  think 
it  would  cheer  him." 

"Your  father"  writes  my  mother  on  the  27th  "suffers  a 
good  deal  and  I  think  wants  you  to  come.  He  seems  more 
depressed  than. I  ever  saw  him.  Cheerful  company  will  do 
him  good — ^but  he  is  too  weak  to  see  many,  .  .  Will  expect 
you  today." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


OBANDFATHER  AND  WILLIAU 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MBiGooi^le 


THE  COLLEGE  CALL  457 

He  had  been  ordered  off  to  Careby  for  quiet  and  reat  and 
there  he  wrestled  with  his  trio, — Rheumatism,  Grippe  and  the 
College  call.  His  beloved  friend  Dr.  Charles  Ryland,  wrote 
him  regarding  the  College  matter: 

"I  think  I  can  see  how  out  of  this  there  may  grow  a  yet  more 
general  movement  for  a  consolidation  of  all  Baptist  interests 
and  the  coordination  of  the  Baptist  schools.  I  believe  God  has 
put  it  in  my  mind  and  heart  to  urge  upon  you  this  work  and 
I  cannot  be  quiet. 

"You  know  how  dear  you  are  to  me,  I  would  not  do  any- 
thing to  hurt  you,  or  to  impiur  your  influence.  I  would  put 
a  crown  upon  it.  The  crown  is  at  the  end  of  a  great  educa- 
tional uplift  by  your  leadership. 

"Charles." 

The  invitation  brought  him  to  deep  reflection.  His  life-long 
friend,  Dr.  J.  R.  Bagby,  a  trustee  of  the  College,  wrote  him; 

"And  if  you  are  to  leave  your  great  church  ever  it  would 
be  greatly  better  for  the  church  and  for  you  to  do  it  while  in  the 
zenith  of  its  glory.  So  you  see  how  I  feel.  It  is  too  big  a 
question  for  me.  I  do  not  know  what  to  say  to  one  so  dear  to 
me  as  your  dear  self.  .  ,  Somehow  I  feel  that  this  would  be  a 
splencUd  doxol<^y  to  your  richly  useful  life." 

He  was  now  67  years  of  age  and  his  shoulders  told  him  that 
they  could  not  carry  a  large  city  pastorate  for  many  more 
years.  He  said  to  me  shortly  after  this,  aa  we  were  walking 
one  day  away  from  his  church:  "The  details  of  the  pastorate 
are  too  heavy  for  me."  His  pas^on  for  "going"  seemed  to 
increase  year  by  year.  The  portion  which  was  offered  him 
by  the  College  threw  open  to  him  the  door  of  travel  and  gave 
him  Virginia  as  his  field,  Vii^nia  Baptists  as  bis  constituency, 
with  Richmond  as  his  headquarters,  and  with  unlimited  op- 
portunity for  preaching  and  speaking.  And  so  it  came  to  pass 
that  on  Sunday  morning,  March  24th  he  spoke  the  fateful 
words  to  his  isir  and  noble  church  with  which  he  had  been 
bound  together  in  such  a  long  and  happy  relationship.  The 
church  was  smitten  dumb  with  grief.    He  promised  to  remain 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


458  MAKING  THE  CHANGE 

with  them  two  montha  thus  alowly  untying  the  knot  that  had 
held  them  so  sweetly.  There  was  a  double  ingredient  in  his 
cup  of  sadness,  for  he  felt  that  he  was  not  only  taking  final 
leave  of  Grace  Street  Church  but  also  of  the  pastorate.  Is  it 
Burpriang,  therefore,  that  his  wife  should  write:  "Your  father 
.  .  .  is  mom  knocked  up  by  the  seTerance  of  the  church 
ties  than  I  thought  he  would  be.  Heroic  as  he  is  he  feels  it 
very  much."    Agun  she  writra: 

"Your  father  brm^^ht  him  P^.  Dunaway]  to  dinner  today. 
What  will  he  do  when  be  cannot  invite  his  friends  to  608  W. 
Grace.   It  is  all  right  to  call  a  halt  for  a  time." 

To  Editii,  who  was  in  New  York  pursiung  a  special  oourae 
in  muac,  he  writes: 

"I  have  been  alone  in  the  house  this  week.  The  furniture 
has  ^ther  gone  the  way  of  its  destination  or  is  at  least  packed 
and  ready  for  going.   Times  are  lonely." 

Bib  Chinese  boy,  Ah  Fong,  tells  of  an  interesting  service: 

"I  remember  when  he  resigned  from  Grace  Street  Baptist 
Church.  We  had  to  move  to  the  country,  Fork  Union.  He 
had  the  Grace  Street  Church  boys  to  hold  their  last  meeting. 
That  night  the  whole  church  was  there.  To  my  surprise  it  was 
mostly  for  me.  Dr.  Hatcher  had  some  of  the  boys  make 
speeches — bade  me  Godspeed,  and  had  the  boys  to  present  me 
some  presents.  Of  course  I  had  to  make  a  littie  speech — it 
was  written  by  Or.  Hatcher.  I  remember  that  speech  had  a 
sentence  like  this:  'I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess  that  I  am  a 
Chinese  boy,  for  no  boy  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  his  country.' 
When  he  trained  me  on  the  speech  and  came  to  this  sentence. — 
I  might  have  said  it  without  much  ener;^-,  because  he  said: 
'Are  you  ashamed  of  China?'  I  answered:  'No.'  "  'Then  say 
it  out  like  you  mean  it.'  he  said." 

His  final  Sabbath  at  Grace  Street  was  a  sorrowful  and  a  never- 
to-be-forgotten  day,  and  oo  the  next  night  there  was  a 
recepticn  at  which  his  wife  said  she  supposed  she  shook  hands 
with  a  thousand  people.    "Once  or  twice"  swd  she  "I  thou^t 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS3VALEDICT0RY  459 

I  would  have  to  drop  out  and  have  &  big  cry."  The  reader  need 
not  be  told  that  those  were  daye  when  hearts  were  strained  and 
if  many  a  pang  found  its  way  into  the  pastor's  soul  who  could  ' 
be  surprised  or  blame  him.  His  church  bad  never  been  more 
devoted  to  him  than  it  was  at  that  time  and  it  was  never  in 
better  conditioo,  but  he  felt  that  duty  now  pointed  him  to  the 
educational  work.  He  waved  his  church  a  loving  farewell, 
blessed  then  with  his  tender  benedictions  and  moved  out  into 
his  new  field  of  labor  with  a  bouyant  step,  and  a  hopeful  heart. 
In  his  parting  words  to  Ha  church  he  said : 

"When  I  was  installed  as  pastor  here  twenty-dx  years  ago 
I  8ud  to  the  church  that  I  would  seek  to  be  a  good  pastor, 
but  that  it  must  be  understood  that  my  labors  could  not  be 
restricted  to  any  one  church.  My  heart  was  filled  with  larger 
things  and  I  felt  that  my  call  was  to  help  every  good  cause  so 
far  as  it  came  in  my  power.  This  I  have  done.  Some  have 
blamed  me  for  giving  so  much  time  to  other  things,  but  I 
really  could  not  help  it.  The  cry  (rf  the  orphan,  the  lost  con- 
dition of  the  nations  of  the  earth,  the  education  of  the  min- 
istry, the  needs  of  the  country  churches  and  the  appeals  of  our 
pastors  and  missionariea  for  my  assistance  were  orders  from 
heaven  to  me.    I  could  not  disregard  them. 

"As  I  recall  my  activity  in  this  way,  I  ask  my  self  whether 
I  robbed  the  church  in  order  to  do  this  out-side  work.  I  do 
not  think  so.  If  I  had  narrowly  clung  to  my  post,  going 
nowhere,  helping  nothing,  getting  all  and  giving  nothing,  I 
do  not  believe  that  this  church  would  be  better.than  it  is  today, 
for  much  of  the  Ufe  I  put  into  this  church  I  drew  from  other 
things." 

Even  during  these  stressful  days  engagements  were  pulhng 
him  out  into  the  state.  He  delivered  at  the  funeral  of  Dr.  C.  L. 
Cocke  of  HoUins  Institute  an  address  which  Dr.  Hudnall  of  the 
Virgima  Polytechnic  Institute  declared  was  the  greatest 
address  he  ever  heard.  At  the  Southern  Baptist  Ck)nveDtion 
in  New  Orleans  in  May  he  found  himself  in  a  httle  friendly 
"tussle"  in  one  of  the  sessons  of  the  body. 


"But  we  had  it  lively  on  the  New  Board  Business.  X— 


and  Z— led  one  ade  and  I  was  with  the  oppomtion. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


460  DEATH  OF  DR.  WYER 

They  bad  the  Goliah  swagger  and  we  were  scared  to  our  toea. 
But  we  planned  in  secret  and  won  on  the  field.    They  -were 

pitiful  to  behold  and  I  waa  really  concerned  about  poor  Y 

He  i3  in  nervous  prostration." 

One  day  at  the  Convention  at  New  Orleans  he  took  Dr.  C.  S. 
Gardner  aside  and  as  they  walked  arm  in  arm  be  said  to  him: 

"Dr.  Gardner  you  are  to  be  my  successor  at  Grace  Street." 
"Oh  Doctor"  he  replied  "I  cannot  succeed  you.  I  cannot 
attempt  to  fill  your  place  at  Grace  Street,  When  I  was  a 
student  at  Richmond  College  I  used  to  sit  in  the  gallery  at 
Grace  Street  church  and  hear  your  sermons  and  say  to  the 
students  with  me:  'Oh  if  I  could  some  day  preach  hke  Dr. 
Hatcher.'  'No,  Doctor,  I  could  not  take  your  place  at  Grace 
Street.' " 

While  he  was  in  the  throes  of  changing  from  Grace  Street 
to  Richmond  College  he  was  stunned  by  the  news  of  the  death 
of  one  of  his  most  cherished  fiiends, — Dr.  H.  H,  Wyer.  He 
writes  as  follows  and  his  words  give  us  another  picture  of  that 
"pas^on  for  friendship",  which  burned  so  deeply  in  his  soul. 

"Ah,  here,  indeed,  is  cause  for  tears.  My  friend  for  forty- 
four  years,  Dr.  Henry  H.  Wyer,  has  closed  his  eyes  on  earthly 
scenes  and  gone  to  the  land  of  his  hope.  My  heart  melts  to 
call  up  this  wintry  night  all  my  preacher  friends  but  it  cannot 
be  invidious  now  to  say  that  of  all  of  them  Wyer  was  the  most 
loving  and  had  in  the  highest  degree,  the  art  for  cheering  me 
in  my  cares  and  toils. 

"Who  can  tell,— truly  I  cannot, — ^the  gentle  sorrows  that 
have  filled  my  heart  since  the  tidings  came.  Our  life  together 
has  come  back  to  me  like  a  book,  often  read,  and  I  have  turned 
the  pages,  here  and  there,  and  read  them  mth  moistened  eyes. 

"I  said  in  the  beginning  that  brother  Wyer,  of  all  my  friends, 
loved  me  best.  It  has  a  selfish  sound  to  speak  of  this,  but  I  waa 
irresistibly  drawn  to  him  by  his  manifest  aifection  for  me.  Some 
on  the  card  of  my  friendship  I  have  had  at  times  to  doubt,  but 
I  never  had  a  doubt  of  Wyer.  He  was  chary  enough  in  avowing 
hia  love  but  he  was  shining  it  out  all  the  time.  A  day  with  him, 
was  a  fattening  season  for  me.  He  could  scatter  the  blues 
on  a  rainy  day  and,  as  for  his  letters  they  were  honeycomb 
to  my  taste.    His  bosom  was  a  rest  for  my  head. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  NEW  TASK  461 

"I  suppose  that  my  friend  bad  faulte,  but  in  some  way, 
from  tbe  time  we  got  interlinked  at  the  old  Strawberry,  I  never 
had  any  success  in  locatii^  these  faulte.  If  he  was  not  perfect 
he  was  far  out  that  way  and  ia  there  by  now.  I  wave  my 
greetings  to  hia  tiiiunphant  spirit  as  it  enters  the  Celestial 
city.  He  makes  Heaven  more  interesting.  A  little  further  on 
we  will  meet  e«^n.    Until  then,  dear  friend,  good  bye." 

His  new  educational  work  looms  before  him.  It  was  twofold 
first,  that  of  raising  (75,000  to  meet  the  conditional  offer  of 
$25,000  from  the  Rockefeller  fund;  and  the  second  phase  of  his 
work,  be  declared,  meant  far  more  than  mere  money  raising. 
He  said  it  embraced  "the  thot^ht  of  a  thorough  revival  of  our 
peofde  in  educational  movements  and  the  gathering  of  our 
schools  into  a  oonunon  fellowship  and  in  putting  them  in 
shape  for  fulfilling  their  deBtJny."  In  one  sense  his  new  position 
was  that  of  Paator-at  -large,  and  by  his  preaching,  his  addresses 
and  his  personal  intercourse  he  was  to  make  his  ministry  as 
wide  as  the  state  and  even  much  wider.  To  turn  from  pastoral 
to  educatifHial  work  required  a  mental  realignment.  It  could 
not  be  surprising  if  the  heart  was  slower  in  its  readjustments 
than  the  brain.  We  cannot  hurry  the  clodng  scenes  of  a  twenty- 
six  years'  pastorate  and  we  need  not  think  it  strange  if  some 
of  Dr.  Hatcher's  letters  at  this  time  ran  somewhat  thus: 

To  Kate: 

"I  am  tryii^  to  get  my  work  in  hand.  It  is  a  violent  change  in 
my  life  and  I  am  oppre^ed  with  concern  as  to  the  result.  But 
I  have  a  ample  purpose  to  do  what  I  can  and  to  leave  the  rest 
in  the  keepmg  of  the  Lord." 

To  his  wife  on  June  11th: 

"I  am  not  as  strong  in  my  nerves  as  I  formerly  was  and  am 
having  some  anxiety  in  tryii^  to  adjust  myself  to  my  work. 
But  I  must  keep  serene  and  trust  in  the  Lord." 

"I  am  still  in  the  agoniee  of  moving"  he  writes  "I  brought 
up  two  loads  today  {to  the  College] — one  the  rubbish  and  the 
other  the  bed.    I  am  in  a  whirl  of  confuaon  and  not  very 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


462       THE  ROCICEFELLER  CAMPAIGN 

cheerful  today.    I  spent  my  last  night  in  the  house.    It  waa  a 
restless  night  and  I  have  been  nervous." 

In  a  few  days,  however,  be  waa  out  upon  tiie  highway  with 
his  face  towards  his  new  task.  He  had  in  the  last  years  of 
his  Ufe  an  ambition  to  increase  his  speed  to  the  end  rather 
than  to  lessen  it.  While  others  were  speaking  of  "retiring" 
and  of  spending  the  "evening  of  their  life"  in  a  cert^  rest 
and  calm,  he  yearned  for  just  the  oppomte  method  of  closing 
his  career.  His  hope  was  that  he  could  work  up  to  the  last 
moment  and  that,  like  the  racer,  he  could  gather  in  momentum 
as  be  sped  forward,  being  swiftest  in  crossing  the  final  line 
and  could  leap  from  the  race  track  into  the  other  world  with 
the  glow  and  vigor  of  tiie  race  upon  him. 

His  immediate  work  was  a  campaign  to  raise  $75,000.  The 
Rockefeller  Board  had  offered  the  College  $25,000,  provided 
the  College  would  raise  $75,000  by  January  1st  and  to  the 
rtUEOi^  of  this  sum  he  now  set  bis  hand.  He  went  to  the  Summer 
AssodatJons,  the  firsV  b^g  the  Dover,  where  his  address — 
according  to  the  Herald — "was  so  masterful  and  concluave, 
interpreting  so  intelligently  the  true  mgnificance  of  the  paper 
which  the  committee  had  brought  in  that  it  left  nothing  to  be 
said".  He'was  alao  at  the  Shilob  Association  eagerly  preasmg 
his  new  work: 

"Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher  of  Amoica  waa  on  hand"  says  the 
Herald  "full  of  wit  and  good  humor  and  overflowing  with  his 
great  task — our  great  undertaking  for  our  Collie.  So  versatile 
and  broad — so  wise  a  leader  and  so  m^netic  a  peraonality 
is  our  own  beloved  Hatcher  that  his  name  la  a  household  word 
in  eveij  home  and  his  plea  for  education  ia  masterly  and  all- 
prevailmg." 

The  Fortemouth  was  the  last  of  the  Summer  Asaodations 
which  be  attended. 

"But  I  think  the  climax  ol  the  whole  aeesion"  says  the 
Herald  "was  that  masterly  speech  and  plea  made  by  our 
)}eloved  brother  Hatcher.     At  first  he  spoke  with  but  little 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


MBiGooi^le 


LETTERS  TO  CHILDREN  463 

animation,  but,  as  be  advanced,  the  audience,  seemed  to  fall 
into  sympathjr  with  the  speaker  and  to  catch  inspiration  as  he 
described  vividly  and  eloquently  the  needs  and  claims  of 
Bichmond  Collie.  He  arose  higher  &nd  higher  and  finally 
his  torrent  of  heart  appeals  swept  the  audience  up  with  him 
and  as  we  all  came  down  together  the  sum  o?  S3,500  was  pledged 
and,  what  is  far  better,  Dr.  Hatcher  sealed  forever  the  hearts  of 
the  great  audience  for  our  own  beloved  Collie.  Let  us  re- 
joice and  take  courage." 

Two  of  bis  letters  to  children  written  during  these  days  of 
strain  have  been  preserved, — ^the  first  to  hia  granddaughter 
Virginia,  at  Careby,  where  all  his  grandchildren  were  gathered 
for  the  Summer.  His  stock  of  grandchildren  had  now  in- 
creased to  three,  the  two  new  ones  being  Katherine,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Kate  and  Wilham  E.  Jr., — ^my  own  son.  To  Virginia 
he  writes: 

"How  is  my  happy  little  charmer?  I  long  to  ^ve  you  a  kiss 
and  a  hug.  I  am  far  up  in  the  mountains  but  it  is  burning  hot 
up  here.  I  wish  you  would  kiss  my  lovely  Katherine  and 
tell  her  I  want  to  see  her.  You  must  be  very  good  to  Wm,  E. 
Jr.  He  is  fat  and  fretful  but  he  is  fine.  Then  he  is  'our  boy' 
and  we  must  treat  him  well." 

The  other  letter  was  written  to  bis  little  namesake  who  was 
at  that  time  only  about  one  or  two  years  old,  the  son  of  his 
cherished  friend,  Mr.  J.  B.  Dickie,  of  Bristol,  Va.,  who  kindly 
sent  me  a  copy  of  the  letter; 

"Sept.  5th,  1901. 
"Master  Earnest  Hatcbeb  Dickie-' 

"Mt  Dear  Namesake, — I  have  your  picture  on  my  mantle 
in  my  office  and  I  give  you  r^ular  and  affectionate  greetings, 
whenever  I  am  at  home.  You  are  well  formed,  perfectly 
quiet  day  and  night,  and  never  give  me  the  least  trouble. 
You  showed  great  kindness — though  not  much  gumption — 
in  deciding  to  be  my  namesake.  You  ought  to  have  asso- 
ciated your  name  with  a  better  man,  and  but  for  your  extreme 
youth  and  possibly  some  bad  prompting  on  the  part  of  your 
biassed  kindred,  I  believe  you  would  have  struck  the  earth 
with  some  resounding  name  like  "Gladstone,"  or  "Edward  the. 
Eighth." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


464  EARNEST  HATCHER  DICKIE 

"But  my  dear  oamcgake  I  do  not  complua.  Indeed  I  feel 
quito  tickled  about  the  whole  affair  and  accept  you  as  one  of 
my  blood  kin.  We  must  be  friendly  with  each  other  and  seek 
to  improve  on  our  ancestry  which,  while  fairly  good,  was  not 
a  circumstance  to  what  we  must  try  to  be.  I  fear  that  I  will 
not  be  much  in  the  way  of  lifting  you  up,  but  you  are  so  large 
and  royal  that  I  expect  to  rise  by  clinging  to  the  skirts  of  your 
garments  which  I  charitably  suppose  will  grow  shorter  as  you 
grow  longer.  You  showed  great  prescience — an  innate  love  of 
congruity— in  being  bom  at  the  crumbling  edge  of  a  dying 
century.  You  must  have  meant  by  it  to  say  that  you  ask  for  a 
clean  new  deal,  and  did  not  wish  to  be  mixed  up  with  the 
confusion  and  misdoings  of  the  past.  Good  for  you  my,  won- 
derfully handsome  namesake.  You  start  strong  and  happy 
and  I  am  praying  that  you  may  increase  in  strength  and  wisdom 
to  the  end.  You  may  decide  to  remain  on  earth  longer  than  I 
do,  and,  if  bo,  I  will  expect  you  to  guard  my  memory  and  take 
up  my  work.  I  want  you  to  get  a.  high,  hne  education  and  then 
use  it  in  helping  others  to  be  educated.  Do  not  forget  this. 
I  am  not  sure  that  you  will  be  able  to  read  this,  for  I  am  not  a 
clear  writer  and  several  persons  of  your  age  have  indicated  to 
me  that  they  could  not  decipher  my  writings  and  several  of 
these  youthful  personages  have  taken  letters  and  things  which 
I  wrote  and  torn  them  up  as  if  in  very  contempt.  You  must 
behave  better  than  that.  Have  this  letter  read  to  you  by  one 
of  your  still  extant  ancestors,  and  then  later  tell  me  how  you 
like  me,  I  expect  you  will  like  me  for  I  like  my  self  tolerably 
well,  though  my  feeling  is  modified  by  my  too  intimate  know- 
ledge of  myself.  I  want  you  to  know  me,  but  not  too  inti- 
mately at  first.    It  might  cause  trouble  between  us. 

"There  is  one  thing  on  which  we  must  surely  stand  together. 
Ever  since  I  was  a  boy  I  have  been  a  lover  of  Jesus  Christ. 
I  know  him  well  and  have  seen  the  good  things  that  he  has 
done  for  others  and  for  me  and  I  think  we  must  put  him  above 
everybodj',  even  our  Mothers.  As  soon  as  possible  I  want  you 
to  know  hjm  and  I  will  tell  Him  about  you  and  ask  him  to 
look  after  you.  They  know  Him  at  your  house  and  will  tell 
you  about  Him. 

"Your  NameaaJce, 

"William   Eldridge  Hatcher." 

His  experience  with  this  fine  Uttle  lad  had  some  later  chap- 
ters.   When  he  grew  older  he  and  Dr.  Hatcher  becwne  fast 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PATIENCE  WITH  BOYS  465 

frienda  and  one  night  at  the  supper  table  the  little  fellow  heard 
his  papa  say  that  Dr.  Hatcher  would  reach  Bristol  that  night 
and  was  coming  to  their  houae.  The  father  said  that  as  Dr. 
Hatcher's  arrival  would  be  considerably  after  their  supper  was 
over  be  would  meet  the  Doctor  at  the  tr^  and  if  he  had  not 
gotten  his  supper  on  the  train  that  he  would  take  him  to  a 
restaurant  for  his  supp>er.  Little  Earnest,  in  some  way,  picked 
up  the  idea  that  there  might  be  some  uncertainty  about 
Doctor  Hatcher  getting  hia  supper.  When,  an  hour  or  so  later, 
his  mother  was  putting  him  to  bed,  and  came  to  take  oft  Ms 
clothea  she  found  his  blouse  bulging  with  a  good  supply  of 
biscuits  which  the  little  fellow  informed  her  he  was  keepmg 
for  Dr.  Hatcher's  supper. 

Mr.  Dickie  eaya  that  he  wrote  Dr.  Hatcher,  invitii^  him  to 
pay  him  a  visit  at  hia  winter  home  in  Florida,  and  Dr.  Hatcher 
replied  regretfully  that  he  could  not  come,  saying:  "Poverty 
has  always  be^i  one  of  my  besetting  ma." 

His  labors  for  the  College  were  interspersed  with  dedicatory 
sermons  and  all  manner  of  ministerial  activities.  He  had  two 
or  three  boya  in  his  Fork  Union  home  at  this  time  whom  he  was 
helping  in  their  education  and  who  often  gave  him  much 
pleasure  in  the  progress  they  made;  but  someiimes  they  would 
try  bis  patience.  And  yet  when  he  had  once  taken  a  boy  in 
hand  he  rarely  lost  hoi>e  of  him.  He  thus  writes  to  his  wife 
after  reaching  Richmond  from  Careby  Hall : 

"I  was  distressed  to  see  that  X was  sulky  and  un- 
happy last  week.  He  has  been  spoiled  lately  and  you  must 
keep  him  away  from  the  public.  He  needs  to  avoid  exdtement 
and  be  kept  at  work.  Tell  Mm  that  I  grieve  very  much  that  he 
was  not  bright  and  pleasant  when  I  was  there.  I  intend  to 
treat  him  kmdly  but  be  must  not  put  on  Eurs.  He  must  be 
humble  and  pleasant.  Things  may  go  wrong  with  Mm  but 
he  must  not  be  sitting  around  looking  mad.  I  cannot  stand 
that.  Do  not  let  others  know  when  you  have  any  bother  with 
him.  We  must  be  patient  with  Mm  and  not  be  discounted 
by  any  boyish  follies  he  may  show." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 

A 


466       THE  MCKINLEY  CELEBEATION 

To  bis  great  pleasure  Dr.  C.  S.  Gardner  became  his  successor 
at  Grace  Street  Church  and  had  a  pastoral  career  there  that 
was  very  successful.  Dr.  Hatcher,  soon  after  he  had  reigned 
the  Grace  Street  pastorate,  was  taken  sick  at  the  home  of  one 
of  his  members  and  while  lying  on  the  couch  became  delirious 
and  suddenly  he  called  out,  "Whether  I  live  or  die,  Gardner 
must  be  pastor  of  Grace  Street:  Gardner  must  be  pastor  of 
Grace  Street."  The  church  had  then  not  settled  upon  any  one 
for  pastor.  This  remark  of  Dr.  Hatcher  was  heard  by  members 
of  the  family. 

After  Dr.  Gardner  had  entered  upon  his  pastorate  Dr. 
Hatcher,  in  pleasant  banter,  sfud  to  him  one  day :  "Gardner,  you 
would  never  have  gotten  to  Grace  Street  if  I  had  not  called 
you  when  I  was  delirious." 

The  whole  world  had  been  shocked  by  the  shooting  of  Pres- 
ident McKinley,  but  the  tidings  went  forth  that  his  wound  was 
healing  and  that  he  would  recover.  It  was  accordingly  planned 
by  the  Cabinet  at  Washington  and  the  Directors  of  the  Buffalo 
Exposition  to  hold  two  Thanksgiving  services  in  honor  of  the 
Preadent's  expected  recovery.  Six  men  from  different  sections 
of  the  United  States,  were  selected  as  the  speakers  and  Dr. 
Hatcher  was  one  of  the  men  invited.  But  alas,  the  beloved 
preadent  did  not  recover  and,  m  the  place  of  the  expected 
thanksgiving,  came,  in  a  few  days,  the  universal  mourning. 

The  "Rockefeller  Campaign" — as  the  present  Coll^je  effort 
to  raise  the  $75,000  was  called — ^now  waxed  warm.  January 
Ist  began  to  loom  dangerously  near  and  yet  only  a  small 
portion  of  the  amount  had  been  raised.  The  Herald  put  one 
of  its  pages  at  his  disposal  and  every  week  he  filled  the  page 
with  breezy  items  about  the  campaign. 

"His  soul  ia  on  fire  to  get  the  money"  writes  my  mother 
the  later  part  of  November.  "He  has  been  through  similar, 
though  not  equal,  experiences  before,  in  the  buildmg  of  his 
church  when  everything  was  made  subsidiary  to  the  one  idea. 
I  am  hoping  that  his  health  may  not  succumb  to  it.  If  he  can 
only  have  his  health  we  shall  be  thankful.    He  reminds  me  ol 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


REACHING  THE  GOAL  467 

the  man  in  quest  of  the  aadent  pottery  art — I  caat  call  his 
name  now— who  was  reduced  to  the  straits  of  turning  his  own 
furniture  to  keep  up  the  fire  in  the  furnace  where  he  was  eeekii^ 
to  melt  the  old  pottery.  Such  determination,  with  faith,  must 
succeed. 

"He  came  over  here  [at  Mr.  W.  R.  Jones'  in  KichmoDdl 
and  enjoyed  a  game  of  backgammon  immensely.  It  would 
have  done  you  good  to  hear  him  'halloa'  when  he  gammoned 
Mr,  Jones.  He  needs  more  such  recreation,  but  he  will  not 
take  it  now." 

That  was  a  campugn  indeed.  He  sprang  into  the  fray  with 
the  ardor  and  dash  of  a  boy.  He  sniffed  the  air  of  battle  and 
liked  it.  "That  $76,000"  said  he  "must  be  raised".  From  the 
College  he  directed  the  movement  and  yet  he  also  hurried  from 
point  to  point  throughout  the  state,  speaking  and  holding 
conferences  with  individuals.  By  pen  and  tongue  he  kept  the 
Virginia  Baptists  on  the  qui  vive  as  to  the  final  out  come.  When 
the  last  day  arrived  the  telegraph  and  telephone  wires  were 
called  into  requisition  and  when  the  clock  struck  twelve  that 
night  the  goal  had  been  reached. 

"The  contents  of  the  muls  on  the  last  days  of  December" 
he  writes,  "were  quite  amazing.  By  noon  on  the  30th  it  was 
clear  that  there  was  a  sacred  landslide  in  favor  of  the  $75,000, 
and  before  midnight  on  the  31st  the  Endowment  Committee 
had  had  it«  meeting,  examined  its  receipts  and  decided  that 
the  contest  had  been  settled  on  the  right  aide.  The  $75,000  has 
been  secured  and  Mr.  Rockefeller's  offer  accepted  in  a  sub- 
stantial and  satisfactory  way." 

To  his  beloved  Careby  he  sped  after  the  wind-up  of  the 
campugn  and  bathed  Ms  soul  in  its  quiet  and  its  beauty. 

He  had  an  interesting  experience  with  Ah  Foug  who  tells 
of  it  as  follows: 

"I  remember  the  Christmas  of  1901.  All  the  folks  went 
away  to  the  city  and  all  the  boys  at  Careby  went  home.  So 
I  was  the  only  person  to  guard  Careby  H^l  in  the  country. 
A  few  days  after  Christmas  Dr.  Hatcher  wrote  me  a  postal 
saying  that  he  will  come  that  day  to  see  'my  boy'.    He  came 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


468         ^ITH  AH  FONG  AT  CAREBY 

on  the  mght  train.  It  so  happened  that  Aubrey  Hudf^os 
came  back  that  day;  so  be  went  to  Bremo  to  meet  him,  while  I 
went  to  a  Christmas  party  at  Mr.  Sadler's  home  with  full 
intentioD  to  come  back  at  oine  o'clock  to  see  Dr.  Hatcher.  I 
was,  however,  too  much  taken  up  with  the  jovihties  of  tiie 
Christmas  party  that  I  did  not  get  home  until  two  next  morn- 
ing. I  got  up  early  next  morning  and  went  directly  to  Dr. 
Hatcher's  room,  fully  expecting  a  hearty  wdcome;  on  Uie 
contrary  I  was  received  very  coolly. 

"  'Where  were  you  last  night?' 

"I  told  him  I  was  at  a  Christmas  party. 

"He  sfud:  'I  expected  to  have  a  little  party  last  night  with 
you,  but  I  was  greatly  disappointed.  I  have  bought  some  cakes, 
oranges,  banannas,  candies  and  lots  of  good  thi^s,  but  do  one 
was  here  to  enjoy  them  with  me.' 

"Then  we  walked  out  to  the  yard  and  there  were  same 
chunks  of  wood  lying  on  the  ground.    They  were  thrown  out  by 

from  their  windows  when  they  could  not  put  them 

into  their  stoves.  When  Dr.  Hatcher  saw  the  woods  he  be^an 
to  scold  me,  because  he  thought  I  had  thrown  those  pieces 
of  woods  out  of  the  window.  He  gave  me  a  lecture  on  an  un- 
grateful boy.  After  a  httle  while  Aubrey  came  to  my  rescue 
and  told  him  the  exact  truth.    Then  he  said: 

"  'I  am  going  to  Cifaz  [in  Bedford  county]  this  aftemocm; 
do  you  want  to  go  with  me?  Lewis  Thompson  ask  you  to  come 
to  see  him  this  Christmas.'  I  told  him  that  I  will  go  with  lum, 
but  he  did  not  give  me  any  of  the  good  things  which  he  intended 
for  me  that  Christmas." 

With  the  Rockefeller  campaign  brought  to  a  close  he  devoted 
himself  now  to  the  latger  and  to  the  general  phasea  of  his  woric. 
There  were  several  Baptist  schools  in  the  state  in  addition  to 
Richmond  CoU^e.  Some  of  these  institutions  were  on  tremb- 
ling foundations  and  there  seemed  a  need  for  a  better  denom- 
iuatJonal  understandii^  regardii^  these  schools  and  a  closer 
cooperati(Hi  among  them.  To  the  questions  growing  out  of  this 
situation  and  also  to  the  general  work  of  Christian  educatitm, 
within  the  bounds  of  his  denomination  in  the  state,  he  now 
devoted  himself. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


'       CHAPTER  XXXV 

1902—1903 

HI9  QRAKDCmLDRBN.      8IINDAT  SCHOOL  LECTURES.      TERHATILITY. 

TBB  CAHPAIOK  FOR  BRISTOL.      CQRKmiAS  REDNION.      PATIENCE 

WITH  BOYS.     SAINT  JOSEPH,  HO.     EDITORIAL  PARAQRAPHS. 

A  fresh  chapter  had  already  been  opened  in  his  life  and  that 
was  his  experience  with  his  three  grandchildreiL.  Their  arrival 
on  the  scene  Introduced  him  into  a  new  world  of  happiness, — 
and  when  the  Sumtner  put  in  its  appearance  each  year  he 
began  to  clamor  for  them. 

"It  might  possibly  be  well  for  you  to  say  to  Wm.  E.  Jr." 
he  writes  to  my  wife  "that  the  sordid  dust,  whose  name  he 
adorns  hopes  to  podder  in  upon  him  Friday  night  in  time  to  see 
him  put  to  bed— or  words  to  that  effect." 

He  delivered  at  this  time  a  course  of  lectures  at  the  Southern 
Baptist  Theological  Seminary  in  Louisville.  The  Sunday 
School  Board,  in  conjunction  with  the  Seminary  Faculty, 
decided  to  inaugurate  a  series  of  lectures  to  be  delivered  each 
year  at  the  Seminary  on  "The  Sunday  School"  and  they  asked 
Dr.  Hatcher  to  deliver  the  opening  series.  Dr.  J.  M.  Frost,  the 
Secretary  of  the  Board,  wrote  him  that  his  forthcoming  addresses 
at  the  Seminary  would  enable  him  "to  set  the  tune  for  the  whole 
Baptist  brotherhood  of  the  South  on  the  great  Sunday  School 
question." 

He  delivered  five  addresses  which  were  said  to  be 
epoch-making  in  Sunday  School  work  in  the  South.  The 
lectures,     which     had     as     their    general     subject,     "The 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


470  THE  PASTOR  AND  THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL 

Pastor  and  the  Sunday  School",  were  fire  in  number  and 
treated  of  the  following  subjects: 

1.  "The  pastor  at  the  Door".  Under  this  head  he  sud:  "We 
may  rightly  challenge  the  pastor  at  the  door  of  the  Sunday 
School  and  ask  to  examine  bis  credentials.  Before  he  enters 
let  him  approve  himself  wortiiy  of  a  place  in  the  School." 

2.  "The  Pastor  on  the  Inrnde." 

3.  "The  Pastor  Abroad".  "Nowhere  is  the  pastor  more 
pleasant  to  behold  than  when  we  catch  mght  of  him  as,  quitting 
his  clceet,  dropping  book  and  pen,  parting  from  family  and 
company,  he  sallies  forth  to  see  the  people." 

4.  "The  pulpit  and  the  Sunday  School".  'It  remains  tor 
us  in  this  cloong  lecture  in  the  series  to  study  the  work  of  the 
pastor  in  harvestJi^  the  fruit  of  the  Sunday  School." 

The  following  are  some  paragraphs  culled  from  bis  lectures: 

"It  is,  I  confess,  with  a  blush  that  I  appear  on  this  platform 
with  a  manuscript  in  hand.  It  is  an  outrage  upon  my  own 
record  and  a  dangerous  example  for  this  commimity  and  my 
comfort  is  that  my  own  awkward  manipulation  of  this  for- 
midable document  may  prove  an  example  for  wamii^  and  not 
for  imitation." 

"Ah,  the  coming  of  the  pastor  [into  the  Sunday  School]  ought 
to  be  the  sunlight  of  heaven  to  that  school,  llie  smile  on  his 
face,  the  cordial  handshake,  the  bouyaut  words,  his  whole 
powmality,  nert  to  the  unction  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  ought  to 
constitute  the  crowning  glory  of  the  school." 

"These  country  folks  are  a  mght,  I  tell  you.  They  can  sample 
a  man,  relentle^y  reduce  him  to  his  original  elements  and 
weigh  and  label  the  ii^redients  at  thdr  market  value." 

"The  worst  thing  that  can  get  on  a  minister's  coat  is  a  debt 
and  that  dress  suits  the  pastor  best  which  is  so  complete  that 
it  esci^ies  observation." 

"It  is  well  for  us  to  understand  that  the  most  of  life  is  wrapped 
up,  not  in  our  individuality,  but  in  our  relationship.  Our  chief 
joys  as  well  as  out  impartations  of  power,  are  trannnitted  to  us 
along  the  ties  which  bind  us  to  others." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  PASTOR  AND  THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  471 

"A  pastor  can  afford  to  study  closely  for  five  years  in  order 
to  catch  the  art  of  apeaking  seriously  and  effectively  to  children." 

"I  confess  that  I  was  always  ashamed  of  my  doings  as  a 
pastor, — ^it  was  always  bo  far  below  the  standard.  I  was 
ashamed  that  I  did  so  little — did  that  little  so  imperfectly  — 
did  BO  much  to  discredit  the  little  done— had  motives  so  mixed, 
had  sermons  meanly  made  and  stupidly  preached,  made  visits 
so  unmeaning,  and  purposeless,  play^  with  my  studies, 
drooped  in  my  prayers,  had  so  little  fruit  harvested  and  that 
so  languidly,  loved  my  people  so  little  and  gave  them  so  little 
reason  for  loving  me,  frittered  away  my  time  and  lost  chances 
all  the  way.  ...  I  almost  quiver  with  the  masterful 
hope  that  if  I  could  enter  the  hst  [of  pastoi^]  again  I  would 
touch  the  radiant  crown  of  the  mount  of  the  futhful.  But, 
No;  it  is  not  for  me.  They  give  no  second  trials.  But  young 
man  yonder  is  the  mount^n,  yonder  the  winding  track,  yonder 
the  climbers;  go  in,  go  in  with  fiying  feet  and  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  and  you  may  be  the  first  to  see  the  sun  set  from  the 
mountain  top." 

"But  no  preacher  need  ever  to  hope  to  discover  the  wants 
of  his  churdi  by  amply  usii^  the  pulpit  for  his  observatory." 

"But,  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  a  boy  will  get  more 
out  of  a  sermon  even  when  he  does  not  listen,  and  retidn  more 
at  least  than  old  people,  when  they  do  listen.  I  have  some- 
times  stud  that  the  children  can  absorb  more  than  they  hear 
and  it  is  true,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  they  can  fidget,  whisper, 
gaze  around,  pinch  and  scratch  each  other  and  Indulge  many 
dy  smiles  and  yet  carry  away  a  deal  of  the  sermon.  They 
catch  the  truth  on  the  fly. 

"Once  I  preached  on  Sunday  morning  on  the  Christian 
armor  and  gave  each  piece  of  the  armor  and  defined  the  pui^ 
pose  of  each  of  these  parts.  That  afternoon,  at  the  Boys 
Society  which  was  one  of  the  established  organizations  of  the 
church  for  over  twenty-five  years,  I  questioned  the  boys  as  to 
the  arinor,  It  was  gratifying  to  fold  that  many  of  them  could 
name  every  part  and  state  what  it  was  intended  to  represent. 
They  had  not  expected  to  be  examined." 

"As  a  faot  people  cannot  long  endure  a  compact,  intense, 
burning  sermon — it  wears  them  out.  Deep  impressions  must 
be  made  quickly,  or  not  at  all." 

"It  is  the  prinoeliest  deed  of  the  Chtislian  life  to  save  a  soul." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


472  VERSATILITY 

'It  is  &  marvel  how  he  haa  the  strei^th  for  all  his  various 
undertakiiigB."  s^d  Dr.  E.  Y.  Mullins  regarding  Dr.  Hatcher's 
bu^  life  at  this  time.  My  mother  wrote  Irom  Careby:  "Your 
father  certfunly  needed  the  rest  which  he  is  gettii^  here.  He 
h&a  been  on  the  bed  moet  of  the  time  and  sleeps  bb  soon  as  he 
touches  it."  He  Sfud  that  the  preparation  of  his  Sunday 
School  Notes  for  the  Baptist  Teacher  each  week  was  a  taste 
of  sermon  making  to  him  that  was  very  sweet.  He  was  now 
writing  his  Sunday  School  lectures  for  publication  in  book 
form, — "a  huge  task  to  be  done  in  two  weeks."  Regarding 
this  book  when  it  appeared  the  "Baptist  and  Reflector"  sfud: 
"Dr.  Hatcher,  as  a  writer,  is  amoi^  the  happiest  in  power  of 
expieeaon  and  practical  thought  in  America.  His  name  to  a 
book  is  all  that  is  needed.  .  .  To  find  a  match  for  W.  E. 
Hatcher  you  will  likely  search  more  than  one  continent." 

"To  the  boundless  torture  of  my  toe"  he  writes  £]Uzabeth 
at  Fork  Union,  "I  have  gotten  some  butter  ready  for  you.  It 
comes  up  this  morning." 

The  startling  fact  about  his  life,  however,  was  not  its  variety, 
but  its  versatility.  He  won  distinction  not  by  being  a  worker 
in  so  many  departments  but  by  being  a  specialist  in  so  many 
departments.  He  had  a  "passion  for  the  best".  Tl)ere  were 
some  spheres  for  which  he  was  not  fitted  and  he  would  make  no 
pretensions  in  that  direction.  He  felt  that  he  had  no  talent 
for  clerical,  or  secretarial,  labor  and  be  would  declare:  "I 
have  no  sense  in  such  work,"  or  "When  it  comes  to  that  I  am 
stupidity  personified".  But  when  be  once  entered  a  path  he 
sought  to  keep  in  the  lead.  "What  a  multiform  specialist  was 
the  Nestor  of  the  Vii^nia  ministry",  said  Dr.  Hudnall, 
"preacher,  pastor,  evangelist,  editor,  writer,  author,  educator, 
and  this  is  not  all.  To  be  of  vast  usefulness  in  various  direc- 
tions a  man  must  needs  possess,  in  an  eminent  degree,  a  rare 
combination  of  qualities.  .  .  An  eminent  divine  said  of 
Dr.  Hatcher:    'He  did  everything  with  distinction.' " 

"He  was  a  great  debater"  says  Dr.  George  B.  Taylor,  "a 
dear  tlunker,  a  preacher  of  unusual  power,  a  master  of  a 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


VERSATILITY  473 

blies,  a  wondeful  raconteur,  a  quick  discemer  and  a  discrimi- 
nating portrayer  of  human  nature,  a  delightful  companion,  a 
wise  counselor,  a  charming  writer." 

He  would  have  made  an  incomparable  United  States  Sen- 
ator," Biud  Dr.  F.  T.  Hale  "a  brilliant  and  successful  lawyer, 
and  would  have  adorned  the  tripod  in  the  editorial  sanctum 
of  the  greatest  journal." 

"It  will  require  many,  many  men"  writes  Dr.  Landrum  "to 
pve  UB  a  life-oze  portr^t,  for  Dr,  Hatcher  was  a  many-aded 
man,  and  will  be  fully  known  and  properly  interpreted  only 
when  all  his  friends  have  joined  their  eulogistic  labors." 

Dr.  J.  M.  Frost  writes  in  similiar  van: 

"His  life  was  too  many-sided,  too  i^vermfied  and  full,  covered 
too  large  a  territory  and  too  many  years  for  any  one  man  to 
even  outline  and  put  down  in  print  for  the  reader." 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  realms  in  which  he  was  eminent. 
As  preacher  and  pastor  and  writer  he  was  accorded  first  place. 
When  it  came  to  taking  collections,  or  to  dedicaUi^  churchea, 
or  to  having  a  capacity  for  friendship,  or  to  finding  recreation 
in  gaming,  or  to  dealing  with  boys,  or  to  endulging  in  wit  or 
humor,  in  fact,  as  Dr.  Frost  says — "think  of  him  as  you  may 
you  readily  accord  him  the  leadership  as  if  that  were  his  spec- 
ialty." Some  of  the  most  restless  moments  of  his  life  were 
probably  those  when  he  saw  some  one  outstripping  him. 

From  Warrenton  where  he  was  conducting  revival  mee^i^ 
he  wrote  the  first  of  a  long  list  of  letters  to  his  grandson,  Wil- 
liam E.  Jr. 

"Wahrbnton,  Va.,  March  30,  1902. 

"Mt  Matcbless  Wh.  E.,  Jr., — Your  grandmother  sent  me 
your  picture  today.  It  was  quite  fine  and  showed  that  you 
were  in  blooming  health.  I  do  not  recall  that  the  ori^nal  Wm. 
E.  ever  had  his  picture  taken  when  eighteen  months  old  and  if 
it  had  been  done  I  am  not  sure  that  he  would  have  shown  to 
such  superb  advantage  as  you  do.  But  that  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at — Wm.  E'a  are  improving  stock — they  get  better  every 
time  and  the  Wm.  E'a  of  tlie  future  will  be  simply  wonderful — 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


474       THE  BIRTHDAY  HOUSE  PARTY 

at  least  more  wonderful  tban  the  present  Wm.  E's,  though  the 
present  Wm.  E's  are  beyond  all  doubt  full-orbed  wonders. 
There  are  none  others  like  them,— though  I  must  admit  that 
the  servant  [William's  mother]  who  had  you  in  her  lap  when 
your  picture  was  taken  has  a  stnking  face. 

"Give  your  father  great  love  and  tell  him  that  he  is  fortunate 
in  bcii^  the  parent  of  a  Wm.  E.  but  that  he  must  suffer  often 
from  the  feeling  that  he  can  never  be  a  Wm.  E.  That  is  a  hnk 
above  hia  jump. 

"Grandfather  has  been  sick — an  inagnificant  thing  and  now 
it  ia  over. 

"With  much  pomp  and  love. 

"Wm.  E.  1." 

He  would  often  write  speeches  and  dialogues  for  the  boys 
at  the  Academy  Ck)nunencement  and  frequently  would  tnun 
them,  though  hia  daughter  Ehzabeth  rendered  very  valuable 
service  in  this  regard.  "Do  your  best  on  the  boys"  he  writes 
to  Elizabeth  "and  have  them  on  hand  for  me  Tuesday  after- 
noon [for  his  reheanuog  them].  Put  Ah  Fong  along  on  tua 
speech."  At  this  Commencement  Lieut.  Gov.  Willard  (pres- 
ent Embassador  to  Spain)  addressed  the  boys.  "Great  times 
at  Fork  Union"  he  wrote  me,  "Aubrey  took  the  glories." 
Aubrey  was  one  of  the  boys  in  his  home  whose  entire  support 
and  education  he  was  carrying  and  of  course  he  was  delighted 
to  see  one  of  his  prot^es  thus  triumphant. 

Out  at  Bristol  was  a  great  Baptist  School  with  splendid 
buildings  but  with  a  debt  that  threatened  financial  collapse. 
$12,000  was  needed  to  save  the  day  and  Dr.  Hatcher,  beii^ 
asked  by  the  Education  Commission  to  undertake  the  raiang 
of  that  amount,  set  himself  to  the  task. 

The  family  decided  to  give  him  a  House  Party  on  his  68th 
birthday  in  July.  He  asked  that  it  be  given  on  his  brother 
Harvey's  birthday  which  would  occur  a  few  days  later,  and 
this  plan  was  followed.  The  two  brothers  reveled  in  each 
others'  company.  Harvey,  two  years  his  senior,  came  on  from 
Georgia.  Other  guests  were  on  hand, — some  of  them  hia 
kindred  from  Bedford.   Dr.  Boatwright,  Preddent  of  Kcbmond 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


"AN  OLD  FRIEND"  475 

College,  wrote  bim  that  every  one  of  his  birthdays  "marked  an 
epoch  in  Southern  Baptist  history." 

The  Birthday  gathering  had  its  sorrowful  aspect  also.  He 
writes:  "The  meetii^  of  my  kindred  after  such  long  separar 
tions  played  heavily  upon  my  heart.  My  soul  was  stormed 
all  the  time  with  memories  and  heartaches  as  I  thought  of  my 
friends  and  loved  ones  who  were  not  there  to  greet  me."  On 
the  second  birthday  of  his  grandson  he  writes: 

"My  Beloved  William, — ^I  greet  you  on  your  birthday 
and  wish  you  peace  and  honor.  It  is  a  most  interesting  ex- 
perience to  be  two  years  old  and  you  will  have  to  show  your^ 
self  a  fine  specimen  of  a  boy.  A  blubbering  two  year  old, 
is  not  a  pleaang  fdght.  .  .  I  must  remind  you  that  it  is 
now  time  that  you  were  learning  to  talk.  Grunts  and  cries 
are  cute  and  fascinating  to  blinded  mothers  but  I  remind  you 
that  they  are  not  good  En^sh. 

"Bepn  to  get  ready  for  the  future.  You  will  be  expected  to 
take  a  large  and  laborious  part  in  the  affairs  of  this  world 
and  you  must  get  ready  for  it.  I  hope  that  you  may  be  a  min- 
ister of  the  gospel,  as  your  father  and  grandfather  are,  and  as 
both  of  your  great  grandfathers  were.  But  the  Lord  must 
decide  that.  Fear  and  follow  him  and  he  will  show  you  the 
path  of  duty. 

"Your  devoted  Grandfather,  W.  E.  H." 

He  spends  a  few  days  in  restful  fellowship  with  his  life-long 
friend,  Dr.  J.  R.  Bagby  at  Mr.  Floyd  Moon's  in  Cumberland 
County,  and  writes  me;  "You  know  not  yet  the  value  of  an 
old  friendship.  You  may  know  hereafter."  "Ah,  how  good  it 
feels"  says  Longfellow  "the  hand  of  an  old  friend.  King 
James  used  to  call  for  his  old  shoes — they  were  easiest  for  his 
feet."  As  Br.  Hatcher  grew  older  he  turned  more  eageriy  to 
those  friends  of  his  early  days. 

For  the  next  three  or  four  months  he  labored  for  Bristol. 
He  resolved  that  he  would  never  again  undertake  such  emer- 
gency work.  "That  Rockefeller  bu»ness  told  on  me  severly" 
he  writ«s  "and  now  I  am  goii^  through  the  racking  agonies 
of  Bristol."    To  Edith  he  wrote,  in  December,  "I  have  worn 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


476  FEOLICS  WITH  THE  GRANDCHILDREN 

my  soul  to  frazzles  in  workup  for  Bristol  and  am  yet  in  great 
terror  lest  disaster  is  to  be  my  only  rewuxl.  It  looks  that  way 
DOW."  Men  do  thdr  work  best  when  the  work  is  congenial. 
But  in  his  case  his  campfugns  for  money  went  agunst  his 
grain.  Just  a  short  while  before  this,  in  telling  of  his  joy  in 
preaching,  he  sfud:  "It  is  a  bigger  thing  to  save  souls  than  to 
flounder  around  in  this  hard  world  looldi^  for  money."  And 
yet  hJB  Bunny  optimism  came  to  his  rescue.  No  doleful  note 
touched  his  lips  in  his  journeys.  The  Ck)Ilege  was  a  kind  mas- 
ter, and  was  wonderfully  appreciative  and  sympatheUc  towards 
him  in  his  work. 

Christmas  was  one  of  the  high  peaks  in  the  year  for  him 
because  it  meant  a  family  reunion  at  Careby.  The  grandchild- 
ren were  his  best  medicine  and  he  could  fling  his  burdens  to  the 
winds  in  his  revels  with  the  children.  He  would  b^n  each 
day  with  a  frohc.  Every  morning  before  the  family  were 
dressed — or  even  out  of  bed — he  would  step  to  his  door  and 
shout  through  the  capacious  house:  "Vir-(pn-y-Brh-hl!  Kath- 
rin-n-nll  Wil-yum-m-mH"  and  as  the  sound  went  ringing  up 
stairs  and  into  the  rooms  what  a  flutter  it  would  cause!  Up 
from  the  bed  would  jump  Virginia  and  Katherine  and  William — 
all  in  a  tremor  of  expectancy — and  such  a  Bcamperli^  down 
Btwra  there  would  be — not  waiting  to  be  dressed  but  hurrying 
to  grandfather's  room,  for  they  knew  there  were  "goodies" 
and  royal  talks  with  grandfather  awfuting  them.  They  were  a 
hilarious  group  as  they  jumped  into  grandfather's  bed  and 
kept  up  a  ceaseless  chatter  as  the  good  things  began  rapidly  to 
disappear. 

He  had  already  trfuned  them  how  they  should  answer  Ins 
monuiME  summons.  When  he  called  out  "Virginia"  she  was  ex- 
pected io  answer  from  her  room  immediately  "All  right:  I'm 
coming"  and  so  with  the  other  two.  Sometimes  the  suddenly 
awakened  grandchild  would  utter  a  feeble,  "I'm  coming"  which 
would  not  reach  the  ears  of  grandfather,  and  so  there  would  come 
another  resounding  call:  "Vir-pn-yeh-h-h"  and  by  this  time 
Virginia  would  be  answering  and  grandfather  would  be  made 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


WORKING  ON  THE  BOYS  AT  CAREBY  477 

fully  aware  that  Viripnia  was  coming.  In  fact  there  were  none 
by  this  time  in  the  lai^e  house,  or  on  the  groimds  that  were  not 
amply  familiar  with  the  fact, — "the  grandchildren  are  comii^" 

This  before-breakfast  romp  was  the  fore-runner  of  many 
happy  experiences  for  the  young  ones  during  the  day.  Grand- 
father's closet,  with  its  boxes  and  bundles,  was  the  enchanted 
spot  for  the  children.  That  was  the  treasure  house  that  seemed 
to  have  no  limit,  nor  bottom,  and  consequently  they  cultivated 
the  most  intimate  acquuntance  with  grandfather  during  the 
hours  of  the  day.  But  it  was  not  the  "goodies"  alone  that 
constituted  the  m^net.  The  little  ones  loved  grandfather. 
They  thought  he  was  grand:  he  was  so  jolly — had  such  fine 
questions  to  ask  them,  such  glorious  stories  to  tell  them  and 
such  funny  things  to  say  to  them.  He  kept  them  on  their 
mettle  for  they  knew  that  he  was  strict  with  them  on  certain 
points  and  that  they  had  to  toe  the  mark  in  their  good  behavior. 
In  one  of  his  letters  to  Edith  he  wrote:  "I  had  an  imperial 
time  with  Virginia  last  week.  She  is  a  fountain  of  delight  to  me 
and  her  devotion  to  me  is  worthy  of  my  best  love  and  attention." 

The  Christmas  season  passed,  the  children  and  grandchildren 
melted  away,  and  the  Academy  students  began  to  pour  in 
from  thwr  homes.  The  boys  whom  Dr.  Hatcher  was  aiding, 
in  special  ways,  gave  him  much  joy,  but  sometimes  they  put 
thorns  in  his  pillow.  They  were  not  ai^ehc  in  their  make-up 
and  sometimes  they  would  fly  the  track,  much  to  the  grief  of 
thar  benefactor.  Dr.  Hatcher,  and  yet  his  patience  seemed 
inexhaustible.  There  was  one  boy  at  the  Academy  that  seemed 
well  mgh  hopeless  but  Dr.  Hatcher  would  not  ^ve  him  up. 

"I  am  in  tribulation  about  C the  Little"  he  writes 

to  Elisabeth  "I  could  not  reach  his  father  and  may  not  see  him 
for  some  days.  If  you  feel  bke  talkmg  to  the  httle  thing— he 
is  only  a  child  in  moral  development — and  tryii^  to  Uft  him  up 
a  httle  I  would  be  glad.  But  do  not  do  it  if  it  would  strain  you 
in  the  least.  I  was  pleased  by  your  saying  that  we  ought  to 
save  him.  I  am  much  in  doubt  about  him  but  I  have  not  yet 
rdaxed  my  grasp  upon  hun." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


478  WORKING  ON  THE  BOYS  AT  CAKEBY 

Yet  another  case  may  ibe  mentioned.  In  his  letter  of  Feb- 
ruary 23rd  he  writes  to  his  Chinese  boy  at  Fork  Union  (not 
Ah  Fong)  whom  he  was  befriendii^.  This  youth  had  dedded 
that  he  wanted  to  quit  the  Academy  and  return  to  New  York. 
Dr.  Hatcher  sought  to  save  him  from  such  a  surrender  by 
writing  him: 

"I  was  hoping  that  you  would  remun  until  you  were  pre- 
pared for  Coliege.  I  was  very  sorry  to  read  your  statement  that 
you  felt  the  studies  were  too  hard  at  the  Academy.  You  must 
not  be  afraid  of  bard  things.  If  you  ever  become  a  man  it 
will  be  by  hard  work  and  you  ought  not  to  run  away  from  your 
studies  because  they  are  hard. 

"Besides,  your  report  is  a  good  one.  It  shows  that  you  are 
getting  along  well  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  will  continue 
to  improve. 

"But  I  will  not  think  ill  of  you  if  you  go  back  to  New  York. 

"I  had  already  ptud  your  tuition  in  the  Acadrany  for  the 
rest  of  the  session.  I  do  not  see  bow  you  can  leave  Fork  Union 
until  I  get  there. 

"Your  Friend, 

"W.  E.  Hatcher." 

One  of  the  boys  whom  he  was  tuding  had  rdn  away  from  Fork 
Union  but  Dr.  Hatcher  found  him  and  sent  him  back  to  Fork 
Union  bearii^  the  following  letter  to  Edith: 

"I  send  you  a  note  by  the  returning  prodigal.  I  trust  that 
Careby  H^l  will  welcome  him  back  and  seek  to  build  up  his 
crippled  fortunes.  He  is  the  weak  member  of  the  Academic 
household  and  we  must  save  him  if  it  is  pos£dble.  All  I  ask 
is  that  the  female  side  of  the  institution  will  bolster  him  and 
help  him  to  start  afresh. 

"I  must  compliment  you  on  your  skill  in  tr^ning  the  orches- 
tra. I  wish  that  you  would  give  lessonS  on  some  strii^ed 
instruments.  That  would  be  more  popular  with  the  boys  than 
the  piano.    Not  so  profitable,  I  suppose." 

Such  efforts  as  are  indicated  by  these  letters— all  written 
within  the  space  of  two  or  three  months — he'  was  ever  making 
to  save  and  tcain  the  boys. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BRISTOL  SAVED  479 

To  William  E.,  Jr.^  he  writes: 

"I  was  &a  happy  as  Katharine's  kitten  when  I  got  your 
letter. 

"I  was  at  Careby  Hall  last  Sunday.  That  morning  I  opened 
the  door  and  shouted  "C-h-i-1-d-r-e-n-!"  and  here  they  came, — 
Vir^nia  and  Lewis,  Katherine  and  Harry,  all  tumbling,  rolling, 
jumpii^  on  the  bed  and  we  almost  made  apples  and  banannas 
get  up  and  fly— we  ate  them  so  fast.  Katherine  said:  'We 
ought  to  have  William'  and  all  of  them  said:  'That  is  bo,'  Then 
we  talked  about  you  as  hard  as  ever  we  could  and  all  of  us 
wanted  to  see  you.  Virginia  wanted  to  kiss  you.  Harry 
wanted  to  hug  you,  Lewis  wanted  to  peel  apples  for  you, 
Katherine  wanted  to  play  paper  dolls  with  you  and  grand- 
father wanted  to  carry  you  to  the  table  and  butter  buckwheat 
cfjces  for  you.  Oh,  we  had  a  lovely  time,  but  we  missed  you. 
Just  wut  until  Summer  and  wont  we  have  a  jolly  time. 

"I  suppose  you  never  cry  now— you  are  t«o  large  and  big 
to  cry.  You  must  see  that  your  mother  does  not  get  ack 
agfun.  If  you  will  wtut  on  her  and  keep  her  from  working  too 
hard,  you  may  save  her  from  getting  sick.  Do  all  you  can  to 
help  her — ^remember  this." 

He  went  to  Macon,  Geor^a  where  he  preached  every  morn- 
ing at  the  Mercer  University  and  every  night  at  the  First 
Church. 

His  Bristol  campfugn  had  triumphed  and  he  was  able  to 
announce  in  the  Herald  of  March  10th:  "Bristol  is  saved. 
That  which  the  Baptists  of  Virginia  undertook  to  do  has  been 
accomplished."  This  Bristol  College  is  today  one  of  the  latest 
and  most  prosperous  Baptist  institutions  for  the  education 
of  young  women  in  the  South. 

In  April  he  held  revival  meetings  in  St.  Joseph,  Missouri. 
Dr.  J.  E.  Cook,  the  pastor,  in  whose  home  he  was  entertfuned, 
writes  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  visit.  After  speakii^  of  "the  gigantic 
labors  of  his  mind  and  heart  this  last  half  century"  he  thus 
continues: 

"The  first  dght  of  Dr.  Hatcher  at  the  station  gave  me  the 
impresaon  that  he  was  getting  old.  But  this  man  is  full  of 
surprises  and  if  he  had  been  a  general  I  wager  his  reputation 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


480       MEETINGS  AT  SAINT  JOSEPH 

for  flank  movements  would  be  second  not  even  to  Stonewall 
Jackson. 

"By  the  way  the  old  Confederates  almost  cheered  him  for 
his  resemblance  to  General  Lee.  Dr.  Hatcher  did  not  like  that 
very  well.    He  did  not  think  it  helped  either  Lee  or  himself. 

"After  I  had  kept  up  with  him  sight-seeing  and  had  kept 
my  single-tree  even  with  his  in  the  meeting  and  had  observed 
his  overflowing  wit  and  good  humor  in  conversation  and  had  been 
nearly  worn  out  with  his  pranks  with  the  children  I  felt  almost 
as  if  he  had  buncoed  me  through  his  old  i^e  "make  up" — to 
use  an  expresson  which  a  preacher  has  no  buaness  to  under- 
stand. 

"I  asked  Dr.  Hatcher  if  he  felt  that  he  had  yet  preached  his 
best  sermons.  'No;  but  I  think  I  have  preached  my  worst 
one,'  he  replied.  If  there  ever  was  a  time  of  the  day  when 
Dr.  Hatcher  was  a  little  below  his  normal  temperature  of  hope 
and  courage  and  abundant  hfe  it  was  just  before  going  to  bed 
at  night,  with  the  day's  work  done  and  never  as  well  done  as  he 
wanted  it  done.  Expresave  of  a  httle  downheartedness  he  was 
used  sometimes  to  say:  'Brer  Hatcher  got  no  friends!'  And  so 
to  me  the  most  striking  trait  in  the  man  was  his  big  heart  for 
BO  many  folk  of  all  ages  and  conditions  and  his  entire  self 
foi^ctfulness  for  the  good  of  his  friends  and  especially  for  boys 
trying  to  get  an  education.  And  Brer  Hatcher  got  friends, 
myriads  of  them  in  Heaven  and  on  earth  and  will  have  them  in 
the  years  to  come  while  children's  children  remember  the  shep- 
herd and  helper  of  their  fathers  and  mothers." 

It  was  during  these  later  years  that  some  of  us  in  the  family — 
with  a  few  outside — began  to  call  him  "Brer  Hatcher"  and 
be  would  often  speak  of  himself  by  that  name.  It  started  from 
a  little  incident  during  his  Grace  Street  pastorate.    He  had  in 

his  church  a  very  ardent  admirer, —  John  E ,  a  brother 

of  feeble  mental  endowment.  John  declared  that  his  pastor 
was  the  best  of  all  preachers  on  the  globe  and  he  never  tired 
of  sii^ng  his  praises.  One  night  in  some  revival  meetings  at  the 
church,  conducted  by  Dr.  H.  M.  Wharton,  he  said  at  the  close 
of  the  service:  "Dr.  Wharton,  that  was  a  fine  sermon  you 
preached,  a  nughty  fine  sermon."  The  next  night  he  said  the 
same  thing  and  one  night,  when  he  was  highly  prai^ng  the  ser- 
mon, Dr.  Wharton  Sfud  to  him: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


"BRER  HATCHER"  481 

"You  liked  it,  did  you,  John?" 

"Oh,  yea,  Dr.  Wharton,  that  was  cerbunly  a  fine  sermon. 
You  certainly  are  a  fine  preacher." 

"You  think  I  am  a  fine  preacher,  John?  You  think  I  can 
beat'  Dr.  Hatcher,  don't  you,  John?" 

"Oh,  yea — Ahem — Wdl,  I  don't  know  about  that,  for  Brer 
Hatcher  do'  de  best  be  can." 

Of  coiu'se  Dr.  Wharton  jocularly  rang  the  changes  on  John's 
declaration  and  Brer  Hatcher  had  no  remarks  to  make  about 
it  imtil  one  day  at  the  General  Association  when  a  brotiier 
b^ged  for  bis  fud  in  a  collection  in  the  Association  for  his 
church.  Dr.  Hatcher  who  was  presiding,  finally  yielded  and 
arose,  and  told  the  story  of  Dr.  Wharton  and  John  and  applied 
it  to  the  case  then  in  hand,  by  pointing  to  the  importunate 
preacher  then  at  his  heels  and  saying  that  he  did  not  see  that 
he  could  do  anything  for  him  in  the  ABsociation  "but"  he 
Bfud  "Brer  Hatcher  will  do  de  best  he  can".  The  result  was 
that  the  delegates  followed  in  rapid  order  domg  the  best  they 
could  for  the  benefit  of  the  needy  brother.  Many  were  the 
times  about  the  home  when  matters  were  a  little  heavy,  or 
draggy,  with  him,  and  he  would  say  with  a  sort  of  mock 
gloominess:    "Brer  Hatcher  got  no  friends." 

There  was  a  little  couplet  which  he  was  fond  of  humming 
in  his  room.  I  do  not  remember  a  period  in  his  life  that  he 
would  not  at  times  miinnur  the  lines:  ■ 

"Up  and  down  the  river,  we  will  go; 

"Up  and  down  the  river,  and  never  come  back  any  more." 

The  last  words  of  the  second  line  would  be  somewhat  mourn- 
fully drawn  out  and  I  can  remember  how  as  a  boy  those  words 
"never  come  back  any  more"  would  always  make  me  feel  he 
was  thinking  of  death;  at  any  rate  they  made  me  think  of  his 
dying  and  going  far  away,  never  to  return.  He  would  bum 
them,  sometimes  while  waUur^  up  and  down  his  room  dressing, 
and  Bometimes  while  seated  in  his  arm  chair,  apparently  in  a 
meditative  mood, — not  necessarily  when  he  seemed  worried 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


482  EDITOEIAL  PAPAGRAPHS 

or  gloomy,  but  often  when  his  maimer  was  cheerful, — and  yet 
those  clodng  words  would  always  have  in  them  a  dismal 
suggestion - 

Possibly  the  reader  would  be  interested  in  some  of  the 
paragraph  products  of  his  pen.  Every  week  his  editorial 
colunm  bristled  with  items  about  men  and  thin^.  For  example, 
in  the  issue  of  April  11th  he  pwd  a  tribute  to  a  Baptist  leader 
in  Texas,  Dr.  J.  B.  Gambrell,  who,  he  says  "is  a  hero  and  has 
never  found  it  out."     He  cities  with  the  followii^  words:. 

"We  waft  our  greetii^  to  the  Texas  leader.  If  we  envy 
him,  it  is  part  of  our  tribute  of  admiration.  Let  Texas  Bap- 
tists pile  burdens  on  bis  shoulders  and  he  will  carry  them. 
Let  the  disoi^anizera  spit  venom  on  him;  he  can  stand  it; 
let  hosts  rise  agunst  him,  yet  he  will  be  confident.  He  asks 
no  crown  and  fears  no  cross." 

"An  imanswered  prayer  shows  that  there  is  somethii^  the 
matter  with  the  prayer." 

After  writing  about  the  all-night  prayers  of  the  Bible  he 


"Those  who  have  ffuled  to  get  a  reply  must  recast  their 
attempts.  Let  them  plan  a  night  attack  and  keep  up  the  fight 
until  the  break  of  day.  God  is  always  near  at  the  break  of  day. 
Try  Jacob's  scheme  of  prayer  and  you  may  get  Jacob's  crown." 

"We  are  no  admirer  of  the  common  house-fly.  He  is  an  annoy- 
ance and  a  nuisance.  He  is  a  disturber  of  the  repose  of  the 
conmitmity.  He  promotes  the  use  of  immoral  adjectives.  He 
tempts  all  of  us  to  assert  that  he  is  worse  this  Summer  than 
ever  before — ^which  probably  is  not  so.  He  wakes  the  baby, 
exasperates  the  cook,  lights  in  the  butter,  tumbles  into  the 
milk,  buzzes,  flutters  and  bites.  He  has  no  human  friend  in 
all  the  earth — no  one  to  praise  him  while  he  lives  and  no  one 
to  weep  for  him  and  to  compose  his  epitath  when  he  dies. 

"Now  give  a  house-fly  hia  dues.  He  may  be  despicable, 
but  there  is  one  tMng  that  may  be  B«d  to  his  hoaoi^-4ie  does 
not  bother  us  at  night.  He  is  no  nocturnal  marauder.  Put 
out  your  light  and  go  to  bed  and  he  will  let  you  rest.    He 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


EDITORUL  PARAGRAPHS  483 

keeps  good  buanees  houre.  He  will  not  strike  a  man  in  the 
dark.  It  is  true  that  he  usually  stays  until  after  tea  and  is 
certain  to  open  his  shop  very  early  in  the  morning  but  he 
never  takes  advantage  of  us  by  pouncing  upon  us  in  the  bed 
in  the  dark  of  the  mght.  Hq  has  at  least  this  negative  virtue 
and  there  is  comfort  in  it." 

He  seems  not  to  have  the  same  friendly  feeling  for  the  church- 
goii^  dt^  as  for  the  stay-at-home  fly.  Out  in  the  country 
one  day  a  man  s^d  to  him: 

"Brother  Hatcher,  I  was  leading  in  prayer  in  the  church 
and  I  heard  &  noise  and  my  first  feeling  was  that  the  devil 
was  in  church.  Upon  opemng  my  eyes  I  found  that  it  was  a 
dog, — one  of  my  dogs.   I  was  greatly  relieved." 

To  this  Dr.  Hatcher  replied  in  the  Herald: 

"For  our  part  we  still  think  that  whenever  a  dog  goes  into 
church,  the  devil  is  apt  to  come  with  him.  It  is  well  when  we 
go  to  the  house  of  the  Lord  to  leave  the  devil  and  the  dogs 
behind." 

Some  one  asked  him  his  opinion  regarding  a  certain  gentle- 
man and  hia  reply  in  the  Argus  was:  "He  seems  to  live  on  bad 
terms  with  success  of  all  sorts, — an  aimable,  nonconstrucUve, 
warbling  brother,  whom  I  rather  like  and  yet  I  would  feel  it 
a  sin  to  encourage  you  to  put  him  at  the  head  of  the  Academy." 

"Several  friends  have  anxiously  inquire  of  us  if  we  saw  a 
severe  reflection  made  upon  us  in  one  of  the  prominent  Baptist 
papers  of  the  South.  Happily  we  did  not  see  it  and  will  mi^e  It 
a  point  not  to  see  it.  In  our  more  sensitive  periods  we  were 
stung  by  personalities,  but  in  these  balmy  days  we  hate  not  the 
bitter  brother.  We  respectfully  ask  the  brethren  to  be  good 
to  us,  if  they  possibly  can,  but  if  this  is  asking  the  impossible 
at  their  hands,  then  we  ask  them  to  be  as  moderately  bad  as 
their  hearts  will  allow  them.  We  do  not  think  &  man  is  our 
enemy  because  he  speaks  evil  of  us  and  yet  we  must  not  mistake 
evil  speaking  as  a  christian  grace." 

In  the  followii^  paragraph  he  was  the  "friend"  alluded  to. 
He  had  learned  that  Dr.  Landrum,  bis  greatly  loved  friend,  had 
received  the  Degree  of  LL.  D.: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


484  EDITORIAL  PARAGRAPHS 

"And  80  W.  W.  Landnim  has  the  LL.  D,  If  there  be  honor, 
or  power,  in  it  L&ndrum  deserves  it.  ...  It  ^ves  him  a 
three-lettered  perch  above  the  D.  D.  populace  and  that  may 
tidde  the  non-noble  part  of  him,  if  he  has  any.  But  he  cannot 
eat  it,  preach  it,  trade  it,  nor  talk  it.  The  Doctor  has  a  friend 
who  was  LL.  D.'d  some  years  ago  and  got  a  Diploma  which 
Ms  admiring  family  guiltily  framed  and  hung  up  for  the  third 
generation,  and  maybe  the  fourth,  to  gaze  upon  and  adore. 
Tie  uaH  pulled  out  and  over  went  the  frame  and  smash  went 
the  glory." 

"Tliere  are  some  preachers  that  would  ordaio  an  icUot  rather 
than  mortify  a  spinster  aunt  or  an  ambitious  mster." 

"Whenever  the  Lord  makes  a  preacher  somebody  else  m^kes 
a  deacon  to  hold  down  and  try  the  patience  of  that  brother." 

His  69th  birthday  was  drawii^  near  and  it  may  have  sug- 
gested the  following: 

"Look-out,  old  folksl  Old  trees  do  not  make  a  forest.  They 
are  not  a  vital  part  unless  they  keep  green  and  drop  their 
acoms  tor  growing  new  trees.  Old  trees,  when  they  die,  en- 
cumber and  disfigure  the  forest  and,  being  in  the  way,  ought 
to  be  removed.  But  there  is  nothing  finer  than  a  fresh,  sound 
fruitful  old  tree.  Young  trees  look  up  to  and  honor  an  old 
tree  like  that. 

"The  main  buaness  of  the  old  is  to  keep  in  touch  with  the 
young  to  love  them,  to  seek  to  develop  and  encourage  them. 
Their  leaf  must  not  fade." 

"We  have  to  divide  Baptist  preachers  into  several  classes: 

"1.  Those  who,  for  some  reason,  do  not  speaJi  with  distinct- 
ness.   It  is  hard  to  hear  them. 

"2.  Those  who,  endowed  with  strong  lung?,  talk  too  loudly. 
They  stun  and  shatter  by  blasphemous  roars.  It  makes  one's 
tympanum  raw  to  hear  them. 

"3.  Those  who  bawl.  They  are  vociferous  and  the  chief 
function  of  their  ministrations  is  to  promote  headache. 

"4.  Those  who  explode.  They  go  on  softly  for  a  while  and 
even  tend  to  a  whisper  and  suddenly  they  nuse  a  yell.  They 
are  fine  for  waking  children  and  also  for  cauang  small  dogs 
to  bark. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


MBiGooi^le 


THE  IDEAL  SECRETARY  485 

"5.  Those  who  talk  out  the  gospd  in  a  natural  and  earnest 
way.   Brother  which  are  you?" 

He  wrote  an  item  in  the  paper  at  this  time  that  came  near 
b^i^  an  unconscious  portrait  of  himself.  Southern  Bfq>ti9ts 
were  looking  for  a  man  to  fill  the  Home  lesson  Secretary- 
ship— one  of  their  most  important  offices  and  he  wrote  de- 
scribing the  kind  of  man  who  he  thought  was  needed  for  the 
position.  In  doing  so  he  draws  a  picture  of  his  ideal  Denomina- 
tional leader. 

"The  brother  lives  in  the  South.  In  age  he  is  just  mounting 
to  his  prime  and  grows  with  ripened  vigor.  The  complexion 
of  his  bnun  is  grey  and  there  is  a  greyish  tint  in  his  hair.  His 
mental  machinery  works  with  musical  throb  and  is  free  from 
tie-ups  and  jerks.  Heavy  suppers  he  avoids  on  principle- 
He  can  travel  without  fatigue  and  wonders  what  insomnia 
means.  He  does  not  catch  cold  under  the  breath  of  a  Spring 
breeze,  reveres  snowy  linen,  has  no  tobacco  smell  in  his  clothes 
and  is  not  weak  in  his  spinal  column.  To  his  honor  he  spells 
well,  has  »  store  of  rich  cedent  Ei^lisb,  does  not  yell  like  a 
Comanche  Indian  when  he  speaks,  is  systematical,  but  not 
statistical,  never  outr^es  the  emotions  or  tastes  of  his  au- 
diences, never  speaks  over  an  hour,  indulges  no  rhetorical 
booms,  will  never  grow  a  crop  of  official  pompofdty,  has  no 
hereditary  melancholia,  falls  into  no  nervous  sprees,  never 
whimpers  about  overwork,  does  not  read  his  ailiclea  to  his 
friends  in  private,  has  no  neoptic  strings  to  his  bow  and  keeps 
bis  family  at  home  while  he  runs  his  office. 

"He  is  constructive,  full  of  initiative  and  great  on  detail. 
He  abhors  stock  stories,  does  not  plume  himself  on  b^ng  witty, 
has  no  conceit  that  he  is  bom  to  take  the  foolish  brother  down 
and  would  quit  the  earth  sooner  than  tell  a  coarse  anecdote 
merely  to  raise  a  rattling  laugh. 

"Look  out  for  the  brother.  He  is  disposed  to  invisibility 
and  is  applyii^  for  nothing.  To  find  him  is  needed  a  search 
and  a  pcur  of  spiritual  eye  glasses.  We  plead  that  he  be  hunted 
down  and  dragged  out  into  the  glare.  He  is  our  choice  for  the 
secretaryship  of  the  Atlanta  Board  if  we  can  only  land  him." 

"I  cannot  describe  the  glory  of  our  [Academy]  Commence- 
ment," he  wrote  me,  "It  was  great  in  every  point  and  nerve.  Ah 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


486  AH  FONG 

Fong,  my  dear,  good,  Ah  Fong,  came  out  as  usual  with  his  rib- 
bons streaming." 

Amoi^  the  visiting  speakers  at  the  Commencement  were  Dra. 
W.  H.  Whitffltt  and  J.  N.  Prestridge.  It  always  gave  him  de- 
light for  Ah  Fong  to  do  exceptionally  well  in  his  public  per- 
formances.   Ah  Fong  thus  writes  concenui^  one  of  his  speeches : 

"I  remember  one  time  he  went  with  me  to  an  Association 
and  I  bad  to  make  a  speech.  After  the  meeting  some  one  came 
up  and  said  to  him:  'Well,  your  Chinese  boy  beat  the  whole 
bunch.'  'Oh;  go  away,  he  replied.  He  is  no  good,'  Then  in  a 
low  voice  he  said:  'I  dont  want  you  to  pr^de  him  before  his 
face;  I  fear  he  will  get  a  pwell  bead,  though  I  am  glad  you  think 
well  of  him.' " 

Ah  Fong  also  adds  the  followii^: 

"I  remember  one  day  he  said  to  me:  'Ah  Fong  you  are  right 
smart  but  you  are  everlastir^^y  ugly.' 

"When  I  pitched  quoits  with  him  and  pitched  a  close  one  to 
the  post,  or  rung  it,  he  would  say:  'Brother  Hatcher  does'at 
like  it'.  "When  he  had  a  leaner  [his  quoit  leanii^  agunst 
the  post]  and  I  would  say:  'I'll  knock  it  off,'  be  would  reply: 
'I  hear  you  make  a  remark,  but  dont  know  where  you  get  your 
scripture  from.' 

"I  remember  on  several  occaaons  he  asked  me  whether  or 
not  I  was  happy  and  whether  or  not  I  had  been  treated  w^l. 
Then  he  would  say:  'I  am  too  poor,  Ah  Fong.  Why  do  you 
want  to  live  with  such  a  poor  creature  as  I  am?  Tho'  I  am 
poor,  I  have  tried  to  make  you  comfortable,  dont  you  think 
I  have?' 

"I  answered:  'Yes,  sir;  more  than  that,  you  have  been  more 
than  a  father  to  me.'  Then  his  face  would  hght  up  with  hap- 
piness and  be  told  me  the  following  story: 

"  'Do  you  know  how  it  came  about  that  I  took  you  into  my 
family?  A  great  many  people  thought  that  I  have  been  to 
China  and  Imow  your  father  and  that  I  sent  for  you  to  come. 
They  are  mistaken.  Mr.  Chambers  brought  you  here  without 
my  knowledge.  At  first  he  talked  to  Di.  Ryland  about  you 
saying  that  your  father  is  a  faithful  christian  and  a  preacher 
in  China  and  that  your  father  wants  you  to  be  educated  in 
this  country.    Dr.  Ryland  told  Mr.  Chambers  to  look  me  up 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


AH  FONG  487 

tUKJ  tell  me  the  story,  saying  that  I  was  a  great  lover  of  boys. 
So  Chambers  came  around  to  me  with  Ub  story.  I  asked 
Chambers  whether  or  not  your  father  can  support  you  in  any 
way.  Chambers  answered:  'No;  he  has  no  more  money  left 
now.'  'So  when  you  came  to  me  you  were  without  a  penny. 
I  asked  Chambers  whether  or  not  you  were  willing  to  work — 
that  ia  to  help  about  the  house.  Chambers  said:  'Yes,' 
'I  told  Chambers  that  I  will  try  you  about  a  month  or  two, 
if  we  could  get  along  I'll  keep  you;  if  not  I'll  turn  you  back 
to  him  agfun,  so  you  see  I  took  you  in  with  a  condition,  be- 
cause I  never  had  any  dealing  with  Chinamen  before.  But 
Ah  Fong  I  declare  you  have  been  a  real  joy  to  me.  I  believe 
God  sent  you  to  cheer  old  Brother  Hatcher,' 

"Dr.  Hatcher  loved  all  kinds  of  games  from  pitchii^  horse 
shoes  up.  I  remember  on  one  4th  of  July  there  was  a  picnic 
and  a  base  ball  game  at  Arvonia  between  Fork  Union  and 
Arvorua.  Dr.  Hatcher  was  at  Fork  Union.  So  we  decided  to 
go  to  Arvonia  to  take  in  the  fun.  We  went  in  a  two  horse 
carriage.  We  got  to  Arvotua  safely.  During  the  day  the 
horses  somehow  got  uimianageable  and  broke  the  tongue  of 
the  carriage  and  Fork  Union  got  whipped.  There  was  no  fun 
at  all  on  our  return  trip. 

"I  often  went  to  Bremo  to  meet  Dr.  Hatcher  when  he  came 
to  Fork  Union.  I  remember  one  very  cold  night  we  were 
driving  back  from  Bremo.  The  wind  was  wbiezing  hard  and 
I  was  very  cold,  my  teeth  were  chattering.  He  said:  'Is'rt 
this  great?'  Sometimes  he  would  ask:  'Is'nt  this  a  glorious 
night?'  I  answered:  'No;  it's  too  cold,'  'Oh,  go  away,  what 
are  you  talking  about?'  he  would  reply." 

At  this  time  there  came  from  the  distant  pluns  of  Texas 
a  kindly  word  from  Dr.  J.  B.  Cranfill,  editor  of  the  Texas 
Standard,  who  wrote  in  his  paper:  "We  have  one  evidence  of 
converdon — ^we  love  the  brethren  and  up,  far  up  toward  the 
head  of  the  list  is  the  name  of  Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher," 

His  life  during  this  Summer  was  brightened  by  the  presence 
at  Careby  of  the  Grandchildren,  He  would  dash  from  point 
to  point  in  the  state  in  his  educational  work,  but  every  week, 
or  two,  he  would  swing  off  from  the  line  of  travel  to  spend  a 
day  or  so  at  Careby. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

1903—1905 

WBLCOIQNQ    ORANDFATHEB.      CWUNTRY    PEOPLE.      THE  LOUISTILLB 

SEUINART.      TRIBUTES  TO  DBS.  IfCDONALD  AND  HKADOB. 

COLLECTION  FOR  THB  BBMINABT.      OONVENTIOS  AT 

KANSAS  cnr. 

The  arrival  of  "grandfather"  at  Careby  was  always  a  big 
event  on  the  hill.  It  looked  as  if  he  generally  came  on  the 
night  trun  and  did  not  reach  Careby — ^five  miles  distant  from 
the  depot  until  nearly  nine  o'clock.  The  little  ones  had  to  be 
kept  up  for  his  coming  and  the  understandii^  was  that  all 
would  be  listening  out  for  the  bat^  of  the  outer  gate,  or  the 
rumble  of  the  carnage  wheels  on  the  bridge.  That  was  the 
signal  for  a  rush  to  the  front  porch  by  everybody,  old  as  well 
as  young,  and  such  an  uproarious  welcome  was  ^ven  to  the 
traveler!  "Hello,  grandfather!"  "Hello  grandfather!"  "Hurrah 
for  grandfather!"  "Thought  you  were  never  coming.  Glad 
to  see  you  grandfather".  Everybody  on  the  porch  was  calling 
out  a  welcome  even  before  they  could  catch  sight  of  him  in  the 
dark  and,  in  the  meantime,  the  children  were  scamp^ing  down 
the  lawn  and  screaming  as  they  went;  if  it  was  in  the  day  they 
would  pile  up  in  the  conveyance,  if  they  could  spy  him  in  time. 
The  next  thing  is  the  unloading,  the  buggy  wheels  are  turned 
so  that  grandfather — and  be  is  getting  mighty  big — can  get 
out  and  then  the  bundles — Oh,  how  kind  the  sweetr-toothed 
grandchildren  are  in  helping  to  take  out  the  bundles,  one  of 
them  is  lifting  the  basket  out  of  the  front  and  the  other  two 
are  pulling  at  the  packages  in  the  back  of  the  carriage.  By 
this  time  the  other  members  of  the  family  have  gotten  out  to 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


GRANDFATHER'S  ARRIVAL  AT  CAREBY  489 

the  carriage  and  the  greeting  is  given  and  then,  with  nearly 
every  body  carrying  a  bundle  and  the  children  jumping  in 
their  glee,  the  procesdon  moves  up  the  walk  and  Into  the 
house. 

Of  course  the  regular  supper  has  been  long  over  but  grand- 
father will  have  a  special  supper  and  usually  it  is  served  to  him 
in  his  study,  with  the  children  fluttering  about  him,  and  bom- 
bardii^  him  with  all  manner  of  questions  about  his  trip  and 
also  keeping  a  friendly  eye  on  the  packages.  It  is  not  sur- 
priidng,  therefore,  that  the  grandchildren  gave  a  shout  when  a 
letter  came  to  one  of  them  on  August  19th  saying: 

"Grandfather  hopes  to  come.  .  .  Friday  night.  You 
must  sleep  in  the  day  and  be  up  to  see  me  when  I  come.  Have 
the  carriage  sent  to  Bremo  for  me  and  have  a  good  supper 
ready.  I  expect  to  have  a  great  time  with  my  grandchildren 
when  I  come.  Won't  we  eat  oranges  and  cackees  until  the  sun 
goes  down? 

"Nanpapa." 

If  his  Careby  visit  brou^t  sun-light  to  its  inmates  it  was 
also  true  that  when  he  moved  out  for  his  Summer  jaunts 
through  the  state  he  also  brought  joy  to  the  places  he  viated. 
For  example,  one  of  the  Assodations  which  he  viated  was  the 
Albemarle  and  Bev.  W.  W.  Reynolds  writes: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  was  recognized  and  given  the  right  of  way. 
Dr.  Hatcher,  what  a  man  he  is  and  how  we  all  love  biml  How 
he  thrilled  the  audience." 

To  his  deli{^t  the  Academy  opened  with  "110  and  more 
coming".  The  new  boys,  who  had  not  selected  their  homes, 
would,  upon  thwr  arrival  report  at  Careby  Hall  which  was 
called  "Castle  Garden". 

"I  thought  your  father  would  Uke  it  that  way"  writes  my 
mother  "and  the  parents  love  to  hear  that  their  children  are 
at  the  preadent's  house  and  so  we  have  had  a  number." 

While  he  delighted  in  the  inrush  of  so  many  students  at  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


490  THE  COUNTRY  PEOPLE 

opeoji^  of  the  Academy  his  heart  also  lingered  about  thos6 
boys  who  had  not  been  able  to  come.  He  put  into  the  Argus 
a  plea  for  their  coming: 

"Exactly  bo, — 'We  had  hoped  to  send  Walter  t«  school  this 
year  but  we  had  to  give  it  up'.  Yes,  you  did  give  it  up  and  why? 
Because  his  mother  was  too  chicken-hearted  to  let  him  go  from 
home  and  because  you,  in  the  secrets  of  your  heart,  could  not 
spare  your  money  to  educate  Walter.  Go  ahead  and  deprive 
your  boy  of  his  chance  and  doom  him  to  speak  bad  grammar  and 
misspell  his  words  and  be  a  mudsill  to  the  end  of  his  days. 
Is'nt  it  curious  that  the  Lord  entrusts  children  to  such  narrow 
and  unappreciatJve  parents?  But  you  might  send  him  yet. 
He  would  be  a  little  slow  getting  there  but  better  late  than  not 
at  all." 

He  attended  the  General  Association  in  November  and  my 
mother  writes:  "Your  father's  paper  and  address  unified  the 
different  elements." 

In  the  next  month  he  pfud  a  visit  to  Halifax  County  about 
which  he  writes  to  me  in  the  following  bright  vein : 

"It  looked  to  me  as  if  they  had  gotten  the  n^ghborhood 
together  for  the  Eii>ecial  purpose  of  storing  away  comforts  and 
sweet  surprises  for  me. 

"Ah  it  must  be  a  fancy  of  mine  but  the  best  goodness  of 
earth  seems  to  me  to  dwell  in  the  country.  Of  course  it  does 
not  wear  furs  and  tipped  gloves,  nor  dress  in  front  of  French 
mirrors.  Its  manners  are  clumsy  and  ite  kindness  does  not 
always  attend  us  in  polished  kids.  But  the  rough  old  fellows 
look  fine  to  me  as  they  tie  their  horses  in  the  woods  and  rub 
their  stinging  ears  as  the  wind  cuts  them.  I  had  all  this,  with 
good  women  coming  up  telling  me  pleasant  things,  with  boys 
piled  up  on  the  pulpit,  with  my  collection  running  over  bounds 
and  getting  more  than  we  asked  for,  with  a  dinner  which  they 
had  been  preparing  for  a  long  time,  with  old  friends — that 
I  did  not  know  were  living — trooping  around  me,  with  fathers 
and  mothers  talking  to  me  about  educating  their  boys  and  ^rls 
and  with  a  lot  of  preachers  so  tender  and  affectionate.  But, 
hold  this  is  not  business— it  is  almost  as  useless  as  poetry  and 
an  old  crone  hke  me  has  no  sort  of  right  to  be  enjoying  himself." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DEATH  OF  HIS  HALF  BROTHER      491 

Dr.  Wm.  R.  Harper,  Presddent  of  Chic^o  Univeraity,  wrote 
him  as  follows: 

"Rev.  William  £.  Hatcher, 

"RicHUDND,  Va.: 
"Mt  Dear  Sir, — I  wish  to  express  my  very  great  appretua- 
tioD  of  the  article  published  by  you  in  the  Baptist  Argaa  of 
December  10th.  !^m  the  literary  point  of  view,  from  the 
homiletic  point  of  view  and  from  the  point  of  view  of  Christian 
charity  I  think  it  is  superb. 

"Yours  Very  Truly 

"WiUiEun  R.  Harper." 

A  telegram  called  him  to  Wythevilie  where  hia  half  brother 
Allan  was  at  the  point  of  death.  "He  told  the  servant"  said 
Dr.  Hatcher  "that  if  be  could  hold  out  until  he  saw  rae  be 
would  be  ready  to  go." 

"My  Dear  old  brother  Allan  was  buried  yesterday"  he 
writes  me,  "1  hope  to  spend  tonight  with  your  Aunt  Mai^aret, 
now  the  only  survivor  of  the  first  children,  herself  over  80 
years  of  f^e.  .  .  Posably  I  may  cheer  her  by  my  brief 
visit." 

In  March  he  held  revival  meetings  in  Staunton  where  he 
writes:  "I  of  course  am  in  a  tremor  as  to  results  and  always 
feel  that  surely  the  Lord  will  not  bless.  This  is  my  mood  at 
present  but  mercy  works  many  surprises." 

The  news  reaehed  him  that  Dr.  Henry  McDonald, — one  of 
the  noblest  and  dearest  of  all  his  friends — had  suffered  a  stroke 
of  paralysis: 

"Ah,  my  friends  are  going"  he  writes  me — "except  the  large 
part  already  gone.  I  feel  a  sense  of  my  nearii^  end  and  it  is 
not,  except  sentimentally,  unpleasant,  and  not  so  unpleasant 
in  that  regard." 

To  his  grandson,  William,  who  had  been  very  dck,  he  writes 
that  if  he  would  come  to  Richmond  he  would  carry  him  up  to 
Fork  Union: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


492         DEATH  OF  DR.  MCDONALD 

"The  carriage"  saya  he  "would  come  dashing  out  to  Bremo 
and  take  us  flying  to  Careby  Hall.  Then  we  will  have  a  happy 
time.  I  will  go  out  in  the  hall  and  call  out  as  loud  as  I  can: 
'Wil-l-u-m-m-m'  and  then  I  will  shout:  'Vii^ni-»-»-a-a  and 
you  and  Virginia  will  say:  "AU  rigiit  we  are  coming."  Then 
here  will  come  running  Lewis  and  Harry  and  we  will  make  the 
banannas  and  apples  flutter.  Hurry  up  my  little  lovely  and 
come  to  see  me. 

"Lovii^  Nanpapa." 

The  stunning  report  came  to  him  of  Dr.  McDonald's  death: 

"The  day  grew  dark"  he  wrote  "whrai  he  quit  the  earth.  The 
mess^e  that  he  was  gone  shut  up  our  lips;  we  fled  from  the  city 
and  spent  the  night  in  seclusion,  tranced  with  the  thought 
that  he  was  walking  in  light  before  the  face  of  his  Kit^.  For 
this  time  we  simply  wave  him  an  envious  farewell. 

"We  loved  his  faults  better  than  we  have  loved  the  virtues 
of  common  men.  We  often  contended  with  him,  and  there  was 
light  and  comfort  in  the  friction.  He  lived  so  high  that  we 
did  not  have  to  change  our  range  of  vision  as  he  ascended  to  the 
Father;  we  only  looked  up  higher.  To  friends  we  dare  to  say 
that  in  a  calmer  mood  we  will  give  several  papers  of  reminis- 
cences connected  with  our  departed  friend." 

He  was  a  loyal  friend,  not  only  to  individuals,  but  also  to 
institutions.  The  Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminary 
seemed  to  r^ard  him  as  one  of  its  most  helpful  champions. 

"I  remember"  says  Dr.  P.  T.  Hale,  "the  last  time  that  he 
came  to  the  Seminary  to  deliver  one  of  his  always  powerful 
and  uplifting  addresses  to  the  students.  When  he  appeared, 
a  storm  of  applause,  which  became  a  tumultuous  ovation  of 
affection  and  regard,  greeted  him, — ^for  some  minutes  after  he 
arose  to  speak;  they  refused  to  allow  him  to  proceed,  until 
they  bore  this  overwhelming  testimony  of  their  esteem  and 
happiness  at  his  presence.  The  venerable  white  head  was  bowed 
again  and  again  in  appreciaticm  of  their  loving  and  enthusjastic 
greetings.  They  honored  him  as  a  leader,  whose  services  had 
been  so  imselflshly  and  freely  given  to  the  Institution  which 
was  always  so  near  his  great  heart." 

At  the  meeting  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  at 
Nashville  in  May,  he  took  up  a  collection  for  the  Seminary. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  SEMINARY  COLLECTION        493 

"I  never  saw  a  finer  popular  collection"  says  a  writer  in  the 
Baptist  Courier.  "It  went  on  for  an  hour  and  the  great  crowd 
staid  through  it  all.  Dr.  Hatcher.  .  .  never  surpassed 
his  work  in  the  Seminary  Collection.  The  total  finally  reached 
$50,000."  He  himself  said  "Some  collections  are  lifted;  this 
one  wafl  handed  down."  With  the  vast  audience  of  delegates 
before  him  and  with  several  ministers  in  the  fusles  udii^  him, 
he  stood  like  a  Captun  on  a  ship  directing  the  crew.  With  the 
subscriptions  h&ng  called  out  by  the  ushers,  he  would  give 
forth  such  a  rapid-fire  of  bright  comment  about  the  gifts  and 
the  ^vers  that  he  kept  the  people  in  a  jubilant,  and  yet  rev- 
erent,  frame.  One  of  the  many  links  binding  his  heart  to  the 
Seminary  was  its  president.  Dr.  E.  Y.  Mullins,  for  whom  he 
had  high  admiration  and  under  whose  splendid  leadership  the 
Seminary  has  developed  into  such  targe  and  noteworthy 
proportions. 

Still  another  friend  of  his  soul  passed  into  the  great  beyond, — 
Dr.  C.  C.  Meador.  In  the  Herald  concerning  Dr.  Meador  he 
began  by  saying:  "It  was  with  a  startling  catch  in  my  breath 
that  I  saw  the  announcement  that  Dr.  Chastain  C.  Meador 
of  Washington  City  had  suddenly  departed  from  the  earth." 

After  writing  of  Dr.  Meador's  youth  and  his  ministry  he 
closes  with  the  following: 

"This  is  no  biographical  sketch.  My  heart  would  go  wild 
at  this  hour,  when  my  lot^  friend  is  so  newly  gone  up  to  glory, 
if  it  has  to  meddle  with  the  mere  dates  and  figures  of  his  golden 
career.  These  plain  words  are  mere  snap  shots  of  a  friend, — 
taken  as  he  arises  from  earth  to  enter  the  eternal  city. 

"There  ought  not  to  a  funeral  of  C.  C.  Meador.  The  thing 
becoming  us  best  is  to  rejoice  over  a  victorious  life  and  a  death 
splendid  with  suddenness  and  serenity." 

The  cloung  sentence  in  this  tribute  to  Dr.  Meador  contains 
a  very  characteristic  phrase.  It  is  the  phrase  "a  death  splendid 
with  suddenness  and  serenity" — a  picture  of  the  death  which 
he  himself  loi^ed  for.  "I  am  wofully  afrtud  I  will  not  die 
gracefully"  be  Sdid  to  a  friend.    The  reigning  ambition  of  his 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


494    ANXIOUS  REGAEDING  HIS  DEATH 

life  was  that  all  his  actions  should  be  performed  according  to 
the  highest  standard,  and  this  aspiration  pertuned  not  merely 
to  his  writing,  hia  preachii^  and  his  other  actJons  but  even  to 
the  manner  of  hia  dying.  He  even  had  high  wishes  regarding  hia 
funeral.  At  the  beginning  of  his  Grace  Street  pastorate  in 
Kichmond  30  years  before  this  be  lived  in  a  house  with  a 
narrow  and  tortuous  stfurway,  "I  never  see  that  house"  said 
a  lady  many  years  afterwards  living  on  the  opposite  aide  of  the 
street  "that  I  do  not  think  of  Dr.  Hatcher  saying  that  he  hoped 
that  he  would  not  die  in  that  house  for  he  did  not  see  how 
they  would  ever  get  his  body  down  those  steps." 

But  if  he  was  solicitous  regarding  the  final  departure  of  hia 
body,  immeasurably  more  anxious  was  he  regarding  the  maimer 
in  which  bis  spirit  would  take  its  final  flight.  His  deare  was 
for  "a  death  splendid  with  suddenness  and  serenity,"  We 
have  already  spoken  of  this  but  it  may  well  be  empha^zed. 
He  shrank  from  the  thought  of  a  halt  and  drag  at  the  end.  He 
wished  that  death  should  catch  him  with  his  sickle  in  his  hand 
and  that  he  could  spring  from  the  harvest  field  into  the  pres- 
ence of  his  Master.  "We'll  work  till  Jesus  comes"  was  his 
favorite  hymn,  and  in  multitudes  of  places  in  the  South  the 
sound  of  that  hymn  will  at  once  call  to  mind  Dr.  Hatcher. 

He  declared  relentless  war  ^^nst  decrejntude  or  indolence. 
He  came  to  Baltimore  during  the  winter  of  1905  to  aid  Dr. 
C.  L.  Laws  in  meetings  at  the  First  Church,  and  from  BalUmore 
he  went  to  Hollins  Institute  to  fud  Dr.  Geo.  B.  Taylor  in 


"I  have  reason  to  be  of  all  men  the  most  grat«ful  and  con- 
tented" he  writes,  "The  Lord  multiplies  to  me  the  most  choice 
and  unexpected  joys,"  "Tell  William"  he  wrote  to  my  wife 
"that  I  would  ^ve  a  gold  dollar  just  to  have  him  at  on  my 
knee  and  let  me  peel  an  apple  for  him.". 

Later  on  be  wrote  to  William: 

"I  have  been  to  Careby  Hall  and  it  looks  beautiful  and  what 
made  it  look  still  prettier  was  that  Vii^mJa  and  Eatherine  were 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


DEATH  OF  HIS  BROTHER  HARVEY  495 

at  Careby  and  every  momii^E  they  dashed  down  Btaire  and  we 
ate  apples  to  beat  the  drummers.  I  carried  up  a  basket  of 
apples  and  we  had  a  gay  time  as  sure  as  you  are  a  fine  boy.  I 
must  tell  you  that  we  were  not.quite  happy,  because  all  the 
time  we  were  wishing  that  WilUam  was  there.  Virginia  would 
say :  'Would'nt  it  be  jolly  if  William  were  only  here?'  and  after 
awhile  Katherine  would  say :  'Grandfather  dont  you  wish  that 
William  was  here?'  and  that  would  almost  make  grandpapa 
cry  just  to  think  that  his  fine  boy  could  not  be  there.  Lewis 
would  come  in  and  I  would  give  him  a  piece  of  apple  and  he 
would  say  that  we  ought  to  have  Wilham  to  help  eat  those 
apples.  Then  in  would  jump  Harry  and  when  I  banded  him 
some  apple  he  would  laugh  and  tell  how  William  used  to  eat 
apples  at  Christmas.  Ah  Foi^  would  blink  his  eyes  and  look 
ae  if  he  were  fairly  dck  to  see  you.  Never  mind  you  must  come 
next  Summer." 

Another  affliction  befell  him  at  this  time, — ^the  death  of  his 
brother  Harvey.  "I  have  had  the  subduing  sorrow  of  my  life" 
he  wrote  in  reference  to  it. 

His  brother  died  in  the  way  in  which  he  hoped  his  own  end 
would  come — suddenly.  In  writing  in  the  paper  about  his 
brother's  death  his  pen  seemed  to  move  with  an  extra  bouyancy 
when  it  came  to  tell  of  the  manner  of  his  going.  He  spoke  of 
Harvey  taking  his  last  look  at  earth  and  then  sprin^ng  with  a 
bound  into  the  eternal  world,  and  he  wrote  as  it  he  was  im- 
mensely proud  that  his  broUier  had  departed  in  such  fashion. 

The  Academy  gave  him  tuany  joys,  but  it  also  furnished  him 
its  quota  of  bothers. 

"We  have  four  snows"  he  writes,  "piled  on  each  other  with 
a  slight  rumpus  in  the  Academy  on  tc^  of  it.  But  things  wag 
on  very  well." 

"I  trust  that  you  will  work  up  the  Saturday  night  frolic 
for  the  boys"  he  writes  a  little  later  to  Elizabeth.  "Beg  or  buy 
the  material  for  the  candy.  Have  a  committee  on  Amusements, 
also  on  any  other  necessary  thing." 

Misabeth  was  his  "man  Friday"  in  his  handlii^  of  the 
boys.    Much  of  his  work  for  them  was  done  through  her.    She 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


496  A  VISIT  AT  ORIE'S 

seemed  to  enter  into  fullest  sympathy  with  him  m  all  hia 
ideals  and  plans  about  the  development  of  the  boys,  and  her 
helpfulness  to  the  Academy  then  and  in  subsequent  years  was 
incalculable.  He  had  distinguished  men  vi^t  and  address  the 
students  at  frequent  intervals.  He  writes  Elizabeth,  "I  e^>ect 
you  and  the  Academy  and  Careby  to  give  President  Boat- 
wright  a  regal  time." 

In  February  he  pEud  a  viat  that  marked  the  beginning  of  a 
delightful  friendship  with  Dr.  C.  H.  Dodd,  pastor  of  the  Peddle 
Memorial  Church  in  Newark  N.  J.  He  went  to  preach  the 
momii^  sermon  on  Foimders  Day  and  also  had  a  happy  viedt 
at  his  daughter  One's  in  Bryn  Mawr  College.  "I  found  her 
rooms  beautiful"  be  wrote;  "I  felt  as  if  I  was  in  Windsor  or 
Buckingham  Castle.  I  lunched  with  her  and  met  quite  a 
choice  company  of  her  friends  and  though  I  was  dfWked  in  the 
proverbial  dust  of  travel  I  was  most  warmly  treated." 

He  held  two  series  of  meetings,  one  in  February  at  Culpeper 
and  the  other  in  March  in  Mobile,  Ala. 

The  latter  part  of  April  found  him  again  in  Alabama, — 
this  time  to  de<Ucate  the  splendid  new  first  Baptast  Church 
building  in  Birmii^ham. 

In  May  he  had  a  memorable  trip.  He  attended  Srst  the 
Southern  Baptist  Convention  at  Kansas  Gty.  The  Argus  in 
describing  his  nomination  of  Mr.  E.  W.  Stephens  for  the  prea- 
dency  sfud  "Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher,  that  prince  in  Israel,  Nestor  of  , 
Southern  Baptists  came  to  the  platform  to  put  in  nomination 
for  President  a  man  who  was  already  elected  in  the  hearts  of  the 
Southern  Baptist  host.  .  .  and  then  as  only  Hatcher  can  he 
Bet  forth  the  qualities  of  his  nominee  for  this  great  office." 

His  Convention  viat  was  varied  by  an  amusing  little  episode: 

"A  brother  took  us  aside  during  our  convention  trip  and  after 
clearing  his  throat,  loosemng  up  the  knees  of  his  pants,  beating 
around  the  bush  and  after  several  stammers,  said  that  he  felt 
that  we  were  mad  with  him  about  something.  The  thing 
fairly  took  our  breath  away.    We  mad  with  anybody?    Not 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  SAINT  LOUIS  CONVENTION      497 

with  a  mortal  on  the  top  of  the  ground.  It  so  chanced  that  we 
had  in  our  pocket  at  the  moment  an  admiring  and  appreciative 
'Shred'  which  we  had  written  up  a  few  moments  before  for  the 
Argus.  We  took  it  out  and  read  it  to  the  brother  and  two  souls 
warmly  embraced  each  other.  If  you  suspect  that  some  brother 
ia  angry  with  you  tell  him  how  you  feel  and  you  two  will 
be  onging  blest  be  the  tie  that  binds  in  the  next  ten  minutes." 

From  Kansas  City  he  went  to  St.  Louis  to  attend  the  meeting 
of  the  General  Convention  of  American  Baptists,  composed 
of  representative  Baptist  ministers  and  laymen  from  all  parts 
of  the  United  States.  His  address  before  the  Convention  was 
regarded  as  one  of  the  brightest  and  happiest  of  his  life.  It 
was  the  first  time  once  1845  that  the  Baptists  of  the  North 
and  South  had  met  in  such  a  general  convention.  It  had  been 
arranged  that  Dr.  Edward  Judson,  son  of  Adoniram  Judson  as 
representing  the  Korth  and  Dr.  Hatch^  as  representing  the 
South  should  deliver  the  opeiung  addresses  which  should  in 
some  sense  set  the  pace  for  the  Convention  proceedingB. 

He  wrote  me  the  following  letter  just  before  he  started  to 

the  Convention  auditorium  to  deliver  his  address, — Dr.  C 

acting  as  hia  amanuenos: 

"Mr  Deab  E, — That  I  have  treated  you  in  a  most  unfatherly 
way  ia  a  fact  beyond  all  denial  and  I  am  afraid  that  my  bad 

treabnent  would  be  continued  but  for  the  fact  that  Dr.  C 

ia  in  my  room  at  tlus  time  and  I  have  decided  to  keep  him 
quiet  by  asking  him  to  write  to  you  for  me. 

"I  recommend  you  to  the  newspapers  for  news  as  to  the 
Kansas  Convention.  ...  I  fussed  around  in  the  Con- 
vention considerably  after  the  old  sort,  but  do  not  think  that 
my  absence  would  have  been  a  seufflble  subtraction  from  the 
interest  of  the  body.  One  man  is  a  little  thing  in  that  body, 
particularly  when  Brother  Hatcher  is  the  man. 

"I  am  now  in  St.  Louis — stopped  here  a  day  for  the  American 
Baptist  Convention.  This  morning  I  am  in  a  terror  because 
of  a  httle  part  I  am  to  take.  1  haven't  many  thoughts  and 
what  few  I  have  are  squirmii^  and  twisting  with  each  other 
hke  worms  in  a  cup.  The  agony  will  be  over  by  noon  and  I 
will  mount  the  first  train  that  will  take  me  back  to  old  Vir- 
^nia  shore. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


498  HIS  SAINT  LOIHS  ADDRESS 

"I  have  fully  detennined  to  cloee  my  connection  with  the 
College  the  first  of  July.  I  have  never  had  one  day  of  personal 
freedom  from  a  formal  engagement  fflnce  I  left  CoU^e.  I  do 
want  a  taste  ot  personal  liberty  before  my  days  on  earth  shall 
end.  I  had  rather  preach  a  year  than  to  ask  for  money  one 
momii^  before  breakfast.  Folks  have  not  yet  found  out  that 
I  can't  preach  and  as  long  as  tbey  labor  under  that  pleasant 
delusion  I  want  to  preach.    This  is  all  I  god  say  now." 

His  address  charmed  the  Northern  brethren  as  much  as 
it  did  those  of  the  South.  Dr.  Judson  afterwards  remarked 
to  two  Virginia  ministers  that  Dr.  Hatcher  was  "the  greatest 
platform  speaker  in  America."  The  Dispatch  referred  to  the 
address  as  the  "The  Notable  Speech  of  Dr.  Hatcher's"  and  the 
Argu8  said  that  it  doubted  whether  Dr.  Hatcher  was  ever  in 
his  life  as  happy  in  an  address  as  he  was  in  that  and  then  added: 
"We  never  saw  an  audience  more  en-rapport  with  a  speaker. 
It  was  utterly  imposable  to  report  the  speech." 

As  he  came  to  the  front  he  said  "I  am  very  glad,  indeed, 
that  the  president  could  think  of  something  to  say  about  me," 
and  then  be  continued: 

"I  feel  profoundly  the  ugnificance,  the  sublimity  of  tKis 
hour.  This  is  a  scene  upon  which  many  have  desired  to  look 
and  have  died  without  sight.  I  can  not  but  look  up  this 
morning  and  think  that  those  men  of  God,  who  sixty  years 
ago  parted,  are  standing  together  at  the  windows  of  the  heavenly 
city,  looking  upon  this  sight." 

He  next  declared  that  such  a  gathering  gave  notice  to  the 
world  that  the  northern  and  the  southern  Baptists,  while 
separated,  were  not  divided. 

Later,  in  his  address,  he  said:  "Our  nation  has  waked  up 
in  the  last  five  or  six  years  to  find  that  our  task  is  largely  away 
from  home  and  that  she  must  take  care  of  other  nations  and 
keep  them  strtught.  I  know  this  remark  is  awful  and  you 
may  not  like  it  at  all, — ^but  I  am  a  Democrat.  I  have  thou^^t 
lately  that  possibly  I  might  get  over  it,  or  get  somebody  else 
over  to  my  ade.    ...    I  would  like  for  the  Bi^tists  of  this 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


.  HIS  SAINT  LOUIS  ADDRESS  499 

country  to  catch  that  world  spirit.     We  must   come  to- 
gether. 

He  next  touched  upon  the  Civil  War  estrangements  that 
had  formerly  separated  the  northern  and  Bouthem  Baptists 
and  the  bitter  feelings  that  had  divided  them  in  the  matter  of 
the  southern  slaves, — or  "servants"  and  the  delightful  change 
that  seemed  now  to  mark  the  relatjons  between  the  two  peoples : 

"Now,  let  me  say  again  I  think  we  ought  to  get  together 
and  try  and  keep  in  line.  It  is  very  hard  for  two  people  to 
carry  on  buanesa  just  across  the  road,  where  they  can  see 
each  other  all  the  time  and  especially  when  they  are  carrying 
on  the  same  kind  of  bu^ness  and  have  trouble  with  their 
children.  Abraham  and  Lot  had  a  fuss.  I  do  not  undertake 
to  say  which  was  wrong,  though  there  was  a  bad  lot  of  mis- 
understandings. But  I  tell  you  what  struck  me  in  connection 
with  that  squabble  was  that  Abraham  laid  down  the  platform 
for  comity  with  a  view  to  staying  apartl  It  is  a  great  deal 
harder  to  stay  apart  than  to  stay  together,  and  if  we  are  to  be 
separated  we  ought  to  have  some  tribunal,  if  that  word  does 
not  scare  some  strict  constructionist,  where  these  questions 
may  be  settled.  You  know  the  trouble  that  took  place  be- 
tween Abraham  and  Lot  was  started  with  their  servants. 
(Laughter.)  I  think  we  will  have  to  meet  now  and  then,  Mr. 
President,  and  look  sSter  our  servants  and  let  them  not  quarrel 
about  the  grazing  places  and  the  watering  places  and  things 
of  that  kind.  I  do  not  know  much  about  comity  myself,  but 
any  ghmpses  I  have  had  of  it  have  given  me  a  high  opinion 
of  it,  and  I  think  that  this  movement  is  going  to  take  care  of 
it.  And  now,  Mr,  President,  for  this  reason  I  have  felt  that 
we  should,  with  cordiahty,  adopt  these  resolutions,  and  we  - 
will  act  together  in  the  organization  indicated  in  this  paper. 

"My  brethren,  I  want  to  say  that  when,  twenty-five  years 
^50,  in  the  city  of  Atlanta,  my  venerable  old  father  in  the 
ministry,  Dr.  Jeter,  proposed  that  the  Baptists  of  America 
should  be  brought  together  in  one  organization,  I,  afraid  to 
speak,  but  full  oL  fire,  felt  just  that  way;  but  when  John  A. 
Broadus,  that  matchless  leader,  issued  his  moral  edict  it  went 
the  other  way,  and  I  have  been  a  Southern  Baptist  Conven- 
tion man  ever  since.  Besides,  at  that  time  I  do  not  think  it 
would  have  done  for  the  Baptists  of  the  South  to  have  come 
to  a  meeting  of  this  kind.    They  were  not  dressed  well  enough, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


600    PREPABATION  BEFORE  SPEAKING 

they  were  almost  as  poor  as  Lazarus  and  had  about  as  many 
soreB.  (Laughter.)  They  were  not  in  good  traveling  order.  We 
are  getting  on  very  well  down  South  and  we  can  come  into  a 
fraternity  like  th^  without  any  suggestion  of  mendicaacy. 
God  is  bringing  back  the  power  and  glory  and  riches  of  the 
South.  (Applause.)  We  are  coming  to  the  point  where  we  do 
not  feel  that  you  can  mistake  us.  With  earnest  spirit  of 
fraternity  and  cordiality  I  second  the  motion  for  this  union." 

At  the  close  the  great  congregation  were  on  their  feet  in  a 
moi^ent  and  burst  forth  into  ^i^ing  "All  hul  the  power  of 
JesuB  name." 

He  laid  great  stress  upon  being  in  proper  mental  condition 
when  appearing  before  an  audience  and  would  always  make  his 
preparation  promptly  so  that  he  would  be  free  and  unstrained 
in  the  hours  immediately  preceding  the  address.  He  felt  it 
important  to  keep  himself  in  bright  and  jovial  frame,  in,order 
that  there  might  be  a  spontaneous  movement  of  hia  mental 
forces  while  spealdng.  Consequently  there  was  no  hurried  and 
fidgety  tug^ng  at  his  address  up  to  the  moment  of  going  to 
the  platform. 

He  was  being  constantly  urged  to  write  one  or  two  books, 
but  he  treated  as  almost  preposterous  the  suggestion  that  the 
public  would  welcome  a  volume  from  hia  pen;  but  we  kept  up 
our  ^peals  feding  sure — ^jut^ng  from  the  reception  accorded 
his  newspaper  writings — that  a  book  from  him  would  be 

eagerly  read.    "I  do  hope   that  X will  in^t  on 

his  wrilang  aomethii^  that  will  five,  of  the  reminiscent  order" 
writes  his  wife.  "Orie  was  talking  the  other  day  of  what 
a  rare  talent  be  had  of  writing  at  first  hand — the  result  of 
early  training,  very  laigely". 

He  Burr^idered  later  on  to  our  bombardment,  and  set  his 
hand  to  the  task  of  book  makii^. 

"Fork  Union,  Va.,  July,  19,  1905. 
"Mt  Dear  Eldridoe  and  Anna, — I  have  no  fat  matter 
with  which  to  enrich  a  letter.    Personal  items  with  myself 
as  the  Magna  Pars  are  sorely  against  the  grmn  with  me, — all 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  GRANDCHILDREN  501 

the  more  as  my  life  is  so  common-place.    .    .    I  am  tame  and 
stupid  tonight  and  will  try  a  few  words  to  my  charming  grand- 

"As  Ever,  W.  E.  H." 

"Willu-u-ume,  my  Prince;  Grandfather  sends  you  thousands 
of  kisses  and  tons  of  smiles.  If  I  had  you  here  I  would  jump 
you  into  the  cars  and  go  whirling  up  and  down  the  road — 
happy  because  I  had  my  lovely  boy.  .  .  I  ache  in  my  toes 
to  see  you.  Do  you  want  to  know  the  reason  I  am  proud  of 
you.  I  tell  you  why — you  are  so  good  to  your  mother  and  try 
to  help  her. 

"Your  Big  Lover,  Grandfather." 

He  recdved  the  tidings  that  William  had  a  little  aster, — 
thus  adding  another  to  the  list  of  bis  grandchildren,  which 
fact  drew  forth  the  following  letter; 

"GRDTIKeBtTRO,  Va, 

"My  Dear  and  Lovely  William, — I  am  just  the  bapinest 
grandfather  anywhere  between  the  mountain  and  the  sea. 
I  have  been  very  sick  this  week  but  when  I  heard  yesterday  thai 
you  had  a  aster,  who  is  named  Anna  Granville  and  is  as  sweet 
as  a  white  rose,  I  felt  almost  light  enough  to  jump  over  the  new 
moon.  I  am  glad  that  our  Heavenly  father  has  given  you 
a  little  sister.  I  know  that  you  will  love  her  and  be  g^xl  to  her. 
You  must  pray  for  her  every  night  Mid  help  your  mother  to 
take  care  of  her  durii^  the  day. 

"I  am  going  to  Careby  tomorrow  and  I  will  tell  Tom  to 
have  Brux  and  Britton  as  fat  as  butter  and  the  new  carriage 
shining  like  gold  to  go  out  to  Bremo  and  bring  my  two  grand- 
children. Won't  grandmother  be  glad  when  you  get  there  and 
won't  E  and  Aba  shout  when  they  hear  about  it? 

"Grandfather." 

He  drew  a  picture  in  the  Argus  of  an  old  gentlemen  stand- 
ing thirsty  at  a  bucket  of  water,  and  the  picture  with  him  in  it 
is  so  true  to  life  that  I  venture  the  assertion  that  he  was  the  old 
gentleman  in  question. 

"We  were  at  a  picnic  the  other  day"  he  writes  "and  several 
people  gathered  around  a  bucket  of  cool  water  and  each  waa 
struggling  to  grasp  the  dipper.    The  only  exception  was  that 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOglc 


502  ,  HIS  LOVE  OF  LIFE 

of  an  old  gentlemsD  who,  with  unruffled  Berenity,  seemed  ready 
to  wait  for  any  drop  or  two  that  might  be  left  after  the  scramble. 
A  thot^htJul  boy  offered  him  the  dipper,  but  another  boy 
flared  up  and  siud  that  he  came  first.  The  gentieman  irith  the 
snowy  locks  smiled  pleasantly  and  said: 

"  'Boy,  by  all  means  let  the  boy  drink  first;  the  old  ought 
always  to  revere  the  young.' 

"The  thirsty  lad  cast  a  queer,  inquiring  look  at  the  old  man 
who  bad  bowed  to  him  with  gracious  kindtiess.  Some  loi^ 
silent  chord  in  the  boy's  nature  must  have  been  struck  for 
his  face  flushed  and  ms  head  fell  and  he  Quit  the  spot  with 
his  thirst  unquenehed." 

He  held  a  meeting  the  first  part  of  August  in  Culpeper  where 
he  wrote: 

"I  am  having  a^^onies  with  something  like  lumbi^o.  The 
Doctor  says  it  is  Sciatica  and  I  only  know  that  it  is  like  a  knife 
in  my  bones.  But  I  am  otherwise  well  and  thank  the  Lord 
that  I  am  living." 

The  one  lustrous  fact  over  which  he  never  failed  to  rejoice 
was  that  he  was  "livii^".  In  his  prayers,  his  letters  and  his 
conversations  he  was  ever  expressing  his  gratitude  that  he  was 
alive.  He  yearned  to  live.  He  said  in  an  address,  in  his  earher 
ministry,  that  one  of  the  best  ^gns  that  a  man  was  ready  to 
die  was  his  eagerness  to  live, — that  is,  provided  he  wished  to 
live  in  order  to  do  his  work.  Many  were  the  times  that  he 
would  say  "I  thank  the  Lord  that  I  am  still  living,"  If  things 
wenl  awry  with  him  in  his  bid  age  he  would  say  "Yes,  but  I  am 
still  livii^." 

"Buy  William  a  12  present"  he  wrote  me  on  August  5tb 
three  days  before  his  birthday,  "and  (pve  it  to  him  on  that 
day.  Surprise  him.  I  mailed  him  a  long  letter  which  he  will 
get  Monday." 

Evidently  he  had  his  own  noticms  about  violent  athletic 
drills  in  young  women's  schools.    He  writes; 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


FEMININE  ATHLETICS  503 

"We  have  come  in  sight, — thank  heaven,  not  striking  dis- 
tance, however — of  severaJ  young  women  of  late  who  tore  us  up 
badly  enough.  Their  way  of  swinging  their  hands  was  startling, 
BO  vindictive  indeed  that  we  thought  that  they  had  really  been 
taking  lessons  in  tragic  elocution.  We  trembled  for  thmr 
anns  lest  they  might  get  uncoupled  at  the  shoulder  and  we 
wondered  whether  they  were  not  mad  about  something, — so 
fierce  they  were  in  thdr  swings.  With  the  utmost  diffidence  we 
plead  with  the  f^r  and  athletic  maidens  not  to  wear  such 
fighting  wrs  in  pubfic  and  not  to  die  in  needless  agonies  by 
wrenching  their  elbows  out  of  place.  F^r  mudens  guard 
against  manual  violence." 

He  had  purchased  a  farm  of  430  acres  near  Fork  Union  on 
which  was  a  gold  mine  of  uncertain  value.  "The  gold-mine 
men"  he  writes  his  wife  "are  crowding  me  to  let  them  open  up 
the  mine.  .  .  I  do  not  wish  to  get  jumbled  up  with  specu- 
lators.   I  would  hke  to  get  money  for  the  Academy." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 
1905—1907 


INTRODUCINO     NEW    PAffTOHS.      ACADEMY    DETAII^.      RELATION   TO 

THE  ACADEMY.       DI8AI>P0INTUENTS.      OLD  AGE.      BTRENUOUa 

ACTIVnT.      VEIOHTED  WITH  UANT  BDRDBNB.      BATTLINQ 


At  the  meeting  of  the  General  Asaociation  in  November  at 
CbarlotteBTJlle  he  was  aeked  to  "introduce"  to  the  Afisociation 
the  new  pastors  who  had  come  into  the  state  during  the  past 
year.  He  performed  in  kindly,  witty  fashion  this  service  each 
year  at  the  Assodation  and  it  was  regarded  as  one  of  the 
striking  features  of  the  session.  The  picture  is  still  before  me  of 
Dr.  Alderman,  preadent  of  the  University  of  Virginia, — on 
that  morning  a  viator  in  the  Association  at  Charlottes- 
ville— ratting  in  a  chair  at  the  front  and  "with  laughter 
holding  both  his  radea"  as  the  "introducing"  performance 
continued.  Rev.  J.  H.  Powers  says  that  the  first  thing  he 
would  look  for,  after  getting  to  the  Association  each  year,  was 
the  programme  in  order  that  he  might  see  when  Dr.  Hatcher 
would  introduce  the  new  pastors.  "At  one  of  these  seeaons" 
says  he  "I  laughed  so  much  that  I  almost  feared  that  I  had  in- 
jured something  on  my  inside." 

One  year  as  he  was  welcoming  the  new  pastors  one  of  the  new 
men  who  stepped  foreword  was  a  tall,  stalwart  young  minister 
from  the  North.  Dr.  Hatcher  made  this  stranger  feel  "at  home" 
by  playfully  introducing  him  as  "a  yankee"  and,  while  appar- 
ently he  was  warning  the  audience  agfunst  the  new-comer  from 
the  North,  he  was,  by  his  kindly  manner,  winning  a  very  warm 
place  for  him  in  the  hearts  of  the  Association.  From  that 
6U 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LETTERS  FROM  "GRANDFATHER"    505 

mommt  everybody  had  a  glad  band  for  the  dangerous  "yaiikee", 
who  was  none  other  than  Rev,  Hany  W.  Mabie,  the  successful 
pastor  of  the  Bluefield  Baptist  Church.  From  Fork  Union 
he  writes  me  concerning  some  Academy  problems  and  adds, 
"I  merely  give  you  these  as  specimens  of  my  anxieties.  I  am 
sure  however  that  they  will  not  kill  me."  From  his  grandson, 
William,  he  received  a  letter  which  consisted  amply  of  in- 
numerable, illegible  scratches  across  the  page  and  which  be 
called  hia  "letter  to  Nan-papa".  It  brought  from  his  grand- 
father the  following  reply: 

"December  11,  1905. 

"My  tine  bio  Bot, — ^I  received  your  letter.  It  was  thor- 
oughly incomprehenmble  and  I  read  every  word  in  it  and  it 
was  as  plain  and  easy  to  read  as  any  illegible  letter  that  I  ever 
read.  I  think  your  writing  is  beautiful  considering  that  your 
chirography  is  not  better.  I  showed  your  letter  to  some  of  my 
friends  and  they  said  it  was  a  letter  that  anybody  could  read 
provided  they  were  able  to  do  it.  What  you  say  about  coming 
to'Careby  Hall  makes  me  pat  my  foot  like  the  music  of  a 
fiddler.  Grandmother  says  that  your  sister  is  growing  in 
beauty  and  flesh  every  day.  You  must  give  her  my  love  and 
tell  her  she  may  grow  as  fast  as  she  pleases  and  get  to  be  the 
queen  of  aU  American  Beauties  but  that  after  all  she  will  have 
to  admit  that  she  can't  write  such  a  letter  as  you  wrote  me. 
I  am  going  up  to  Careby  tomorrow  night  and  I  will  tell  A. 
and  E,  to  put  things  in  shining  shape  because  the  only  nephew 
they  have  on  the  earth  will  be  up  there  in  a  few  days  and  that 
I  want  thitags  fixed  just  to  suit  him.  When  you  get  to 
Richmond  I  will  hire  a  cab  to  take  your  mother  and  your 
grandmother  and  your  sister  over  to  the  other  Depot,  but  you 
and  your  father  will  take  a  little  stroll  through  the  town  and 
view  the  beauty  thereof. 

"We  are  not  going  to  have  things  very  fine  at  Careby  this 
time  because  it  takes  too  much  money  but  we  want  to  have 
things  square  and  mce.  I  certainly  want  plenty  of  apples, 
plenty  of  bananas  and  I  propose  that  we  will  have  great  times 
of  a  morning  before  I  get  up.  I  am  sure  Virginia  will  be  there. 
I  expect  she  will  come  about  Saturday.  Maybe  Katherine  will 
come  too  but  they  will  get  there  later  on  anyhow  and  we  will 
shake  Careby  HaU  until  the  timbers  creak. 
"Very  lovingly  Your 

"Graadfatber" 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


606  INTERESTED  IN  DETAILS 

Afi  an  example  of  the  little  detidls,  aa  Well  as  the  lai^  denomi- 
national undertakings  that  tugged  at  his  brain,  may  be  men- 
tioned the  followiiM5  letter  which  he  received  from  one  of  the 
smaller  Academy  boys.  This  lad  afterwards  was  graduated 
from  one  of  the  prominent  universities  of  the  land. 

"Fork  Union,  Va. 

"Dear  Da.  Hatcher, — ^I  hate  to  keep  on  bothering  you, 
but  my  washing  bill  is  due  at  the  end  of  this  week  for  two 
montha.  You  were  not  in  Fork  Union  last  month  when  it 
was  due,  so  I  let  it  run  until  this  month.  I  will  have  to  get 
another  Algebra  book  aoon.  Must  I  go  to  Mr.  Bashaw  for 
the  money  or  not?  I  certainly  do  appreciate  all  the  thii^ 
you  are  doii^  for  me  ^d  am  trying  to  make  the  best  of  them. 

"I  remain  your  loving  little  friend." 

The  same  boy  writes  agfun  a  few  weeks  later: 

"Deab  Dr.  Hatcher, — I  am  so  sorry  I  did  not  come  over 
to  get  that  little  bundle  you  had  for  me,  but  I  had  to  get  up  the 
wood  for  my  room  and  this  took  me  until  study  hour  yesterday. 

"I  forgot  to  mention  a  matter  which  I  ought  to  have 
spoken  about  when  you  were  here.  Capt.  Winston  \a  going 
to  make  all  the  cadets  get  khaki  imiforms,  or  imiforms  for 
Sununer  wear.    These  will  cost  $5.35  per  suit.    I  wrote  to 

aunt and  asked  her  ^^out  it;  she  said  you  pronused 

to  pay  tor  my  uniform  so  I  ask  you  about  it.  Capt.  Winston 
is  ta^ng  orders  for  them  now  and  most  of  the  boys  have 
already -paid  him. 

"Your  loving  little  friend." 

During  these  winter  months  he  was  busy  in  a  finanoal 
campaign  for  the  College, — a  caxapaign  that  tried  his  soul. 
He  was  stru^ing  to  raise  money  to  cover  the  losses  in  the 
case  of  those  bonds  in  Ute  Rockefeller  campaign  that  had 
proved  worthless.  "I  have  exhausted  the  marrow  in  my  bonea 
to  get  the  Rockefeller  deficit"  he  writes.  .  "My  night  at 
Winfree's  was  as  sweet  as  a  bird's  sonnet." 

He  writes: 

"I  never  had  such  a  pas^on  as  has  burned  within  me  for 
the  last  two  or  three  weeks  for  absolute  rest.   My  ^ft  for  resting 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  RELATION  TO  THE  ACADEMY     507 

has  never  been  cultivated  and  I  am  sure  that  after  two  or 
three  days  of  idleneaa  I  will  be  chafing  again  for  the  battle. 
My  plana  repose  in  the  bosom  of  chacs — a  very  cosy  place  for 
them  to  sleep  until  called  into  action." 

He  also  writes: 

"It  tires  me  so  much  more  to  rest  than  to  work."  He  writes 
me  of  a  young  preacher  who  was  feeling  good  over  a  "raise" 
ID  his  salary  and  then  he  adds:  "I  think  I  had  a  little  to  do 
with  the  action  of  the  church  and  I  only  wish  that  I  may  be 
able  to  help  him  in  other  ways."  He  wrote  a  characteristic 
letter  to  his  beloved  friend,  Judge  W.  W.  Moffett.  The  Jut^e 
had  recently  been  re-elected  to  the  Judgeship  by  an  over- 
whelming vote,  to  which  Dr.  Hatcher  in  playful  fashion  thus 
refers: 

"I  was  quite  nervous  about  your  election — ^being  naturally 
uncertain  as  to  the  final  result  in  cases  where  politics  play  the 
game.  Had  I  known  you  would  play  the  cormorant  and 
swallow  everything  in  sight  I  might  have  been  saved  several 
wakeful  moments.  I  did  not  congratulate  you  because  I  hate 
to  shout  with  a  mob.  When  I  speak  I  like  to  hear  my  own 
voice.    You  know  how  I  felt  about  it." 

There  were  some  who  thought  that  the  Academy  was  a 
source  of  conedderable  income  to  him.  They  knew  not  that 
while  not  a  dollar  had  come  to  him  as  compensation  for  hie 
labors  for  the  school,  yet  on  the  other  hand  he  had  put  into  it 
probably  several  thousands  of  dollars,  ui  addition  to  a  laige 
portion  of  his  work.  The  following  letter  shows  his  attitude 
towards  the  Academy: 

'ToEK  UmoN,  Feb.  17,  1906. 
"My  Deas  ELDRmas, — I  had  a  great  visit  to  Fork  Union. 
The  [Academy]  Trustees  had  a  tremendous  meeting,  barrii^ 

one  or  two  luckless  bitches.     X struck  for  higher 

wages  with  rather  a  disastrous  result.  But  that  will  blow  off 
in  no  good  while.  We  passed  some  mammoth  resolutions  about 
new  buildings.  They  also  undertook  to  employ  me  at  a  thous- 
and dollars  to  be  their  agent,  I  suppose  you  might  call  it. 
This  I  solemnly  and  defiwtly  refused.    I  told  them  it  would 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


608  LETTER  FROM  EX-GOV.  STEPHENS 

kill  me  to  receive  a  salaxy  from  the  Academy — that  I  could  not 
hire  myself  out  to  one  of  my  children.  Finally,  they  passed  a 
resolution  Betting  apart  a  thousand  dollars,  subject  to  my 
order  and  to  be  disposed  of  in  any  way  that  I  thought  proper. 
In  response  to  that  I  s&id  nothing.  Their  demonstration  was  so 
gracious  and  enthusiastic  that  it  found  a  rather  tender  spot 
beneath  my  w^stcoat.  One  never  knows  what  may  come,  but 
I  feel  that  if  I  were  to  recwve  a  salary  from  the  Academy  it 
would  put  me  at  a  disadvantage.  I  have  to  fight  very  often 
encroachments  upon  the  treasury  and  I  shrink  from  the  sus- 
picion of  being  an  eacroacher. 

"Besides,  it  grates  upon  the  loving  joy  which  I  have  always 
found  in  what  I  do  for  the  Academy.  I  humbly  pray  the  Lord 
that  the  day  may  never  come  when  I  shall  be  either  an  employee 
or  a  beneficiary  of  the  Acadnny." 

The  meeting  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  was  draw- 
ing near  and  he  received  the  following  letter  from  Ebc-govemor 
Stephens  of  Missouri  who  was  at  that  t^me  the  Preeddent  both 
of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  and  of  the  Baptist  Gen- 
eral Convention: 

"Now  as  pre^dent  <^  the  Southern  Bf^tist  Convention  and 
also  of  the  Baptist  General  Convention  I  command  your  pres- 
ence at  both  bodies.  I  amply  cannot  do  buMness  without 
you.    I  mean  this. 

"You  must  be  at  both  places  from  start  to  finish.  The 
Southern  Baptists  cannot  play  Hamlet  without  him.  We  are 
expecting  a  great  meeting  at  Chattanooga  and  you  will  be  an 
essential  part  of  it. 

"I  assure  you  it  will  be  a  genuine  pleasure  to  be  with  you 
f^Eun.  I  read  everything  you  write  and  listen  to  everythijw 
you  say,  publicly  and  privately,  when  I  am  near  you  and  I 
do  not  know  that  I  can  say  this  of  any  other  man,  living  or 
dead,  for  I  am  the  easiest  man  bored  you  ever  saw.  Of  course 
my  family  would  all  take  pleasure  in  visiting  you  in  Virginia,^ 
but  it  will  have  to  be  on  condition  that  you  visit  us  first. 

"I  again  want  to  in^st  upon  your  being  at  Chattanooga, 
if  not  at  Louisville,  and  if  possible  at  both." 

He  suffered  a  mishap  in  the  spring  that  cut  him  deeply, 
and  yet  bis  irrepressible  optimism  came  to  his  rescue.   He  was 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT  509 

en-route  to  the  Colgate  Seminary  to  deliver  a  series  of  lectures 
before  that  institution.  His  manuscript  was  snugly  packed 
away  in  his  valise  as  he  stopped  over  in  Philadelphia  to  spend 
the  Sabbath  day  aad  preach  morning  and  night  at  the  Mem- 
orial church.  But — as  he  once  remarked — "The  Lord  often 
takes  our  programmes  out  of  our  hands,  tears  them  up  and 
constTMns  us  to  go  in  ways  we  know  not  of." 

He  tells  in  the  following  paragraph  of  the  coU^ee  of  his 
plans: 

"Unaccountably  we  succumbed  within  an  hour  of  our  arrival 
to  that  w«rd,  contradictory  thing  which  travels  the  earth  and 
does  nuschief  under  the  name  of  the  Grippe." 

But  he  pulled  himself  together  and  forced  himself  out  to  the 
Memorial  church  on  the  next  day  and  attempted  to  preach, 
but  he  eaid: 

"We  foi^ot  the  Lord's  prayer,  leaving  out  one  part  and 
saying  another  part  of  it  twice,  and  read  the  New  Testament 
when  we  ought  to  have  read  the  Old  Testament,  and  forced 
the  choir  to  sing  an  anthem  when  they  ought  to  have  chanted. 
.  .  .  Our  voice  cracked,  wheezed  and  broke  into  grating 
dissonances. " 

Monday  came  and  with  it  came  the  Doctor  who  cut  short 
his  trip  to  Colgate.  Concerning  this  visit  of  the  physidan 
he  wrote: 

"He  came  and  saw  and  ordered  us  back  to  Virgjnia  by  the 
next  train.  We  set  our  face  back  to  old  Virginia  and  that  came 
nearer  making  us  feel  like  a  human  being  than  anything  else 
that  had  occured.  A  delirious  and  agonizing  trip  of  seven 
hours  put  us  in  Richmond  at  midnight  and  the  next  day  found 
us  at  our  hut  in  the  brush  in  the  fine  foot-hills  of  the  Blue 
Bidge.  Four  days  have  patched  us  up  in  spots  and  at  this 
present  writing  we  are  cherishing  the  somewhat  reckless  hope 
of  seeing  Chattanooga  nest  week." 

What  a  fall  was  that! — the  Philadelphia  vi«t  turned  into  a 
eomiv  tragedy,  and  the  Colgate  lectures  left  suspended  in  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


510        A  SECOND  DISAPPOINTMENT 

air,  and  he  who  was  to  be  the  happy  hero,  suddenly  bundled 
up  as  an  inyalid  and  shipped  back  to  the  little  village  of  Fork 
Umon.  This  dismal  experience  was  soon  succeeded  by  another 
disappointment.  He  waB  on  the  point  of  startii^  for  the 
Southern  Baptist  Convention  in  Chattanooga  when  the  Grippe 
laid  him  upon  his  back  again.  But  he  usually  played  the 
philosopher  in  hia  moments  of  disappointment,  and  Ms  sunny 
nature  did  not  desert  him  in  the  present  instance.  And  yet 
it  was  a  eore  deprivation  to  him  to  be  kept  from  that  Conven- 
tion,—  from  its  discussions  and  its  fellowships. 

Did  the  Convention  miss  him? 

I  went  to  the  Convention  and  was  kept  busy  receiving  from 
the  delegates  the  expressions  of  their  sorrow  at  hts  absence, 
and  their  messages  of  love-  to  him.  I  slipped  into  the  hotel 
writing-room  one  day  and  dashed  off  the  following  epistle  to 
him: 

"CHATTANOoaA,  Tbnn.,  May  13,  1906. 

"Deae  Grandfather, — I  am  very  sure  you  do  not  know 
how  much  this  Convention  loves  you.  It  is  not  simply  admira- 
tion but  love.  It  seems  as  if  everybody  has  inquired  anxiously 
about  you  and  has  sent  loving  messages  to  you. 

"It  does  seem  a  pity  that  you  cannot  be  here.  You  must 
surely  keep  yourself  in  good  shape  and  be  on  hand  next  year. 
Everybody  says  they  miss  you  and  there  seems  general  grief 
that  you  are  sick  and  absent." 

With  this  letter  let  us  couple  one  or  two  other  communi- 
cations. One  is  a  tel^ram  that  was  sent  to  him  from  the 
Preadent  of  the  Convention,  Ex-Govemor  Stephens,  which 
reads: 

"Your  name  on  every  tongue.  Sympathy  in  every  heart. 
We  miss  the  sunshine  of  your  prraence.  The  whole  Conven- 
tion is  praying  for  your  recovery.     Bealer  joins  me  in  this 


Another  was  from  the  Convention  itself,  sent  through  Dr. 
T.  S.  Dunnswaylreading: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BELOVED  BY  THE  CONVENTION     511 

"The  Convention  after  special  prayer  for  your  speedy  re- 
covery Bends  a  message  of  sympathy  and  love." 

Still  another  telegram  was  from  Mrs.  George  Schmelz 
reading: 

"Miss  you  so  much.    Do  hope  you  are  better," 

Rev.  C.  L.  Corbitt,  the  new  Superintendent  of  the  Baptist 
Orphanage,  writes  him  on  May  Idth : 

"Deae  Dr.  Hatcher, — "I  know  you  were  greatly  missed  at 
the  Convention;  in  fact  I  dont  see  how  they  could  get  along 
without  you.  If  I  were  in  the  Lord's  place  I  would  let  you  live 
a  hundred  years  longer,  in  truth  I  would  make  it  two  hundred 
upon  a  pinch.  But  then  the  Lord  knows  best  and  I  am  giving 
the  matter  up  into  his  hands.  I  am  begging  him  though  to 
spare  you  many  many  years  not  only  for  the  good  of  his  Cause, 
but  for  my  sake.  You  have  been  so  Itind  and  good  to  me.  I 
not  only  appreciate  it  but  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart." 

Many  persons  remarked  that  one  of  their  joys  in  coming  to 
the  Convention  was  the  privilege  of  meeting  him  there.  He 
delighted  at  such  gatherings  to  open  his  heart  to  his  brethren 
and  his  ears  to  the  stories  of  their  burdens,  tbdr  struggles  and 
their  triumphs.  "How  many  care-worn  pastors,"  heoncewrote, 
"bring  their  secret  wounds  with  them  to  our  great  assemblies. 
.  .  .  What  a  field  it  opens  to  the  burden  bearer.  We  can  do 
no  better  thing  than  to  open  ear  and  soul  to  thdr  cries  of  the 
heart  and  to  stay  long  enough  to  take  their  burdens  off  and 
cast  them  on  the  Lord."    Dr.  Buckner  of  Texas  said: 

"He  used  to  honor  me  and  touch  my  heart,  by  affectionately 
insisting  that  I  should  sit  by  him  on  the  platform  at  the  gather- 
ings ot  our  great  Southern  Baptist  Convention." 

His  strei^th  soon  returned  and  be  sped  away  from  Fork 
Union  as  if  to  make  amends  for  his  days  of  inactivity.  He 
appeared  to  forget  that  his  72nd  birthday  was  at  hand  as 
he  took,  the  trfuiu  for   a  long  journey  to  South  Carolina 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc    " 


512    PRESSING  EAKNESTLY  FORWARD 

for  a  series  of  revival  meetings,  after  which  he  returned 
to  Fork  Union  and  thence  hastened  to  Ohio  where,  at 
the  Denizon  Univeraty  at  .Granville,  he  was  scheduled 
to  speak  at  the  Commencement  exercisies.  His  rapid 
trips  made  his  wife  uneasy.  She  writes,  "keep  up  with  him 
and  beg  him  to  take  better  care  of  his  voice.  He  is  uong  it 
too  much  but  I  dont  beheve  we  can  check  him  much." 

She  often  during  these  later  years  asked  me  to  join  with  her  in 
efforts  to  check  him  in  his  overwork.  It  was  a  natural  request 
but  our  efforts  were  as  straws  before  a  strong  current.  His 
soul  clamored  for  work.  He  would  listen  to  the  exhortations 
of  his  family  and  friends  about  his  overwork,  would  twit  the 
speaker  with  playful  jests  and  then  take  the  next  train  for  a 
dedication,  a  revival  campaign,  or  a  Board  meeting.  In  the 
week  ^ter  writing  the  above  letter  my  mother  writes  me  agfdn: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  performed  numerous  feats  this  week  for  one 
of  his  age.  Just  think  of  it — to  Ohio  Saturday,  preaching 
sermon  Sunday,  returning  to  Bichmond  Tuesday,  Alumni 
banquet  Wednesday,  Trustee  meeting  and  Commencement  at 
night,  leaving  at  IIP.  M.  train  for  Salem  where  he  installed 
Charles  Corbitt  as  Supt.  of  the  Orphan^e  on  Thursday  and 
here  today — somewhere  distant  next  Sunday.  .  .  Your 
father  has  just  come  in.    He  seems  well  and  in  good  spirits." 

lliere  was  one  thing  that  he  insisted  upon  almost  as  inexora- 
bly as  he  did  upon  his  keeping  at  work  and  that  was  having 
his  grandchildren  at  Careby  in  the  Summer.  For  example  he 
writes  to  William  E,  Jr.  on  July  3rd: 

"I  fairly  leaped  for  joy  when  I  got  your  letter  writtOL  by 
Aba  and  signed  with  your  own  hand.  I  think  it  is  a  big  thing 
to  have  a  boy  who  can  write  his  own  name.  It  almost  made 
tears  come  in  my  eyes  when  I  read  that  you  wanted  me  to  come 
after  you  and  bring  you  to  Careby.  You  ought  to  be  here. 
The  trees  are  beautiful, — the  grass  in  the  yard  is  soft  and  green — 
the  plums  are  ripe  in  the  orchard^ — ^the  bushes  are  laden  with 
blackberries — the  whortleberries  are  coming  on — June  apples 
are  ripe  and  are  going  fast — Mammy's  cows  have  milk  for  you 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


OLD  AGE  613 

and  Onie  ^11  make  batter-cakes  for  you  one  monung  and 
wafEIes  the  next.  Virginia  and  Katherine  have  not  come  and 
Grandmother  has  no  one  to  speak  to  but  Ah  Fong. 

"Tell  your  mother  that  Careby  Hall  is  wwting  for  you  and 
that  Brux  and  Britton  will  toss  their  heads  and  rattle  their 
harness  with  joy  when  they  go  to  Bremo  to  meet  you. 

"Ah  Fong  is  at  Careby  Hall  and  he  would  shout  for  joy  if 
you  would  come  and  I  hope  by  all  means  you  will  make  him 
shout," 

Old  age  had  long  been  knocking  at  his  door.  For  several 
years  his  hearing  had  paid  the  penalty  of  its  long  usage  and 
now  his  eye-fflght  was  growing  dim.  My  wife  writes  me  from 
Careby: 

"He  said  the  other  night  that  he  was  afraid  that  he  would 
not  be  able  to  do  much  more  writing  on  account  of  his  eyes. 
I  know  how  anxious  you  have  been  for  him  to  do  more  writing." 

Concerning  old  age  he  wrote: 

"It  ia  said  that  at  forty-eight  Thackery  was  gray,  bowed 
and  gloomy,  fretfully  brooding  over  the  past.  We  must  admit 
that  it  is  not  easy,  except  by  tricks  that  are  grotesquely  vain, 
to  keep  the  silver  threads  out  of  our  hair,  or  even  to  keep  the 
hair,  with  the  silver  threads  included,  on  our  heads.  Nor  is  it 
always  possible  to  preserve  the  erectneas  and  elasticity  of  our 
forms,  but  it  is  folly,  it  is  a  sin  in  christians  to  grow  dismal 
Emd  downhearted  as  age  comes  on.  A  cheerful  ei^possment* 
in  our  appomted  work  is  an  eEFectual  safeguard  ^Eunst  mel- 
ancholy. .  .  If  we  would  clothe  our  souls  with  perennial 
youth  we  must  set  our  faces  towards  the  future  and  rejoice 
in  the  living  God." 

He  visited  in  September  the  Middle  District  Association  in 
Maryland,  where  he  preached  a  sermon  on  the  Significance  of 
Baptism.  He  dwelt  the  longest  on  the  first  three  words  of  the 
text  "Know  ye  not", — as  if  Paul  would  say  in  that  passa^ 
(Romans  VI,  4)  to  the  christians  who  had  long  since  been 
baptized:  "What,  know  you  not?  Can  it  be  that  you  were 
baptised  and  yet  you  do  not  know  its  rich  meaning?  Do  you 
not  know  that  "as  many  of  you  as  were  baptized  etc?" 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


514  SORE  TRIMS 

One  of  the  ways  by  which  he  kept  his  heart  young  was  by 
keeping  it  open  to  all  the  interests  of  Christ's  kingdom.  For 
example  he  remembered  at  this  time  that  the  great  Seminary 
at  Louisville  was  at  the  be^nnii^  of  a  new  session  and  that 
through  its  doors  now  were  crowding  its  students  from  all  parts 
of  the  South  and  so  in  bis  editorial  column  in  the  Baptist 
World  he  writes  as  follows: 

"We  uncover  our  heads  and  make  our  bow  to  the  scores  and 
and  scores  of  young  princes  in  Israel  just  entering  our  great 
Seminary  in  Louisville.  Hello,  boys:  Southern  Baptists  hfol 
you  and  warmly  approve  your  coming.  Your  opportunity  is  a 
miracle  wrought  for  you  by  the  great-hearted.  Hemember 
that  and  seize  the  prize  set  before  you.  Do  not  allow  homes — 
^ckness,  nor  messages  found  in  square  envelopes  which  reach 
you  about  twice  a  week,  to  be  mistaken  for  emergency  calls 
to  quit  school  and  go  to  preaching.  Unless  gumption  and  grit 
are  short  of  measure  in  your  case  take  no  short  cuts  but  stay 
in  the  middle  of  the  road.  .  .  May  the  Lord  of  our  fathers 
anoint  the  sons  of  the  prophets." 

Some  burdens  at  this  time  were  pres^ng  him  very  severely, 
and  he  was  subjected  to  sore  and  exceedingly  painful  trials.  His 
wife  overheard  him  say  to  himself  one  day  in  an  adjoining 
room,  "Ah,  this  is  a  hard  world." 

At  the  General  Association  in  Richmond  in  November  his 
soul  seemed  to  feast  on  its  fellowships.  His  wife,  in  writing 
about  the  Association,  sfud: 

"Last  night  when  there  was  about  to  come  a  hopeless  tangle 
he  rose  and  by  his  word  brought  relief  to  the  situation." 

He  wrote  me  from  Franklin,  Ya.,  of  some  engagements  tiiat 
he  had  for  the  next  few  weeks  and  added:  "And  then  blessed 
idleness  until  after  Christmas  and  still  lot^er.  I  mean  to  put 
my  type-writer  in  perfect  shape  and  my  mornings  are  to  be 
ff.vea  to  those  articles  and  reminiscences  which  seem  to  ffve 
you  so  much  umieceesaiy  trouble." 

Christmas  was  approaelung  and  he  yearned  for  a  family 
reunion  at  Careby,    He  wrote  me:  "Servants  may  forsake  us, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MEETINGS  AT  TROtJTVILLE  515 

but  our  GompaiiioQBlup  is  better  tljaa  etidled  oxen  or  turkeys 

stuffed  with  oystere.    Let  ua  get  together  if  we  can."   He  said 

that  hia  meeting  &t  Franklin  waa  "transcendentiy  great." 

To  pr.  Andrew  Broadus  Jr.,  he  writea  on  November  27th: 

"It  was  just  like  you  to  write  me  that  delightful  lettOT. 

"Life  abounds  in  complexities,  and  hard  strains  come  to  all 
and  often  in  unexpected  ways.  This  is  a  part  of  God's  dis- 
cipline. To  be  able  to  receive  the  cuts  and  slii^s  of  injustice 
and  yet  to  keep  the  heart  open  and  free  from  bitterness  is  no 
easy  matter.  And  yet  we  must  do  this  for  if  we  fail  in  it  wo 
fail  in  character.  ...  I  love  you  with  an  ever  ripening 
friendship." 

He  interjects  a  surprising  parenthesis  into  his  revival  meet- 
ings at  Troutville,  viz.,  a  trip  to  Richmond,  speading  two  n^hts 
on  the  cars  but  mis^i^  only  one  day  from  the  meetings. 

"Think  of  it"  he  writes  his  wife.  "Here  I  am  in  Blchmond. 
Meeting  of  Trustees  of  Richmond  College  came  this  morning 
and  I  am  going  back  tonight.  Had  a  fine  day  here.  Mr.  Camp 
dined  some  of  us  at  the  J^erson  this  afternoon  in  great  pomp." 

Regarding  the  night  trips  from  Troutville,  the  pastor,  Dr. 
George  B.  Taylor,  thus  writea: 

"Notices  came  to  each  of  us  of  an  important  called  meetji^ 
of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Richmond  College.  I  told  Dr. 
Hatcher  that  he  must  go.  .  .  He  insisted  on  my  gtmig.  So 
we  arranged  for  a  forcel  march.  We  left  Troutville  one  night 
after  the  night  service,  went  by  way  of  Basic  and  the  C.  and 
O.  R.  R.  to  Riclmiond,  this  being  an  all  night  journey,  without 
a  "sleeper".  At  Bade,  between  trains,  he  dictated  to  me  one 
of  hia  articles  to  the  Baptist  World.  .  .  We  reached  Rich- 
mond in  the  morning,  spent  the  day  there  and  took  the  N.  and 
W.  in  the  evening.  The  next  morning  we  drove  from  Roanoke 
to  Troutville,  eleven  miles  and  were  then  in  time  for  the  morn- 
ing service.  I  tell  of  this  to  show  how  vigorous,  enthusiastic,  re- 
sourceful he  was. 

"And,  in  passing,  I  would  say  that  he  was  a  charming  fellow 
traveler.  Tliis  last  remark  reminds  me  of  some  hours  with  him 
after  one  of  the  Orphanage  Board  meetings  at  Salem.  He  asked 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


516         THE  CHRISTMAS  REUNION 

me  to  be  his  guest  at  supper  in  Roanoke  at  the  N.  and  W. 
Restaurant.  I  accepted.  We  had  a  good  supper  and  a  season 
of  good  feUowship." 

It  would  seem  that  his  seventy  two  birthdays  would  have 
read  the  riot  act  to  him  against  such  strenuous  activities  as  that 
of  the  Troutville-EJchmond  trip,  but  he  knew  that  he  was 
approaching  the  border  line  and  he  determined  to  keep  up  the 
high  pressure.  He  was  never  so  well  and  never  so  jubilant 
as  when  he  was  out  upon  the  highways  and  hastening  on  with 
the  King's  bumnese. 

Regarding  the  Christmas  reunion  at  Careby  and  the  coming 
of  the  grandchildren  he  writes: 

"Tell  William  that  I  am  fwrly  shouting  at  the  thought  of 
our  fruit  feasts  in  the  morning.  We  will  wake  the  sleeping 
natives  with  the  noise  with  which  we  will  fill  the  house, 

"I  think  we  must  have  a  new  set  of  calls  and  the  children 
will  have  to  rehearse  them  so  we  can  make  the  house  roll  and 
tumble  with  the  thunder  of  our  shouts.  As  for  fruit  we  must 
have  it  stored  away  and  not  let  any  hands  touch  it  except  by 
our  consent. 

"I  saw  Virginia  and  Katherine  a  week  ago.  Their  mother 
seemed  a  tittle  doubtful  about  coming  but  I  put  my  foot  down 
and  said  "they  had  to"  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be  all  right," 

Attached  to  this  letter  was  a  sheet  of  paper  on  which  he  had 
written  the  following: 

"Master  William  E.  Hatcher  Jr.  and  Miss  Anna  G.  Hatcber 
are  moat  lovingly  invited  to  spend  the  Christmas  Holidays  with 
Grandfather  and  Grandmother  at  Careby  Hall  and  to  eat 
fruit  in  bed  every  morning  before  breakfast  with  the  quartette 
of  grandchildren.  They  must  bring  their  largest  voices  with 
them  BO  that  they  can  shake  Careby  with  their  thundering 
shouts  and  wake  up  the  drowsy  members  of  the  tribe." 

It  would  seem — at  first  blush — as  if  "somebody  had  blunder- 
ed" that  this  old  man,  now  moving  on  towards  his  73rd  births 
day,  should  in  addition  to  countless  other  tasks  be  carrying 
upon  bis  shoulders  a  l&rge  and  growing  MiUtary  Academy, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  WORK  FOR  THE  ACADEMY       517 

with  practically  the  entire  load  restiag  upon  him.  It  was  not 
merely  that  he  exercised  general  oversight  over  the  inatitution 
but  the  management  of  the  school,  with  even  the  details 
on  the  business  aide,  was  upon  his  mind  and  under  his  direction. 
Every  burden  put  its  pinch  in  his  heart.  He  was  expected  to 
be  the  chief  magnet  to  draw  the  pupils;  if  a  note  was  to  be  made 
in  bank,  or  if  a  $3,000  loan  was  needed  in  order  to  erect  an 
Armory  for  the  school  the  verdict  was:  "Let  Dr.  Hatcher  do 
it."  If  teachers  were  to  be  employed,  a  new  Catali^ue 
prepared,  or  Commencement  exercises  arranged  for,  or 
speakers  secured  for  the  school  opening,  or  boys  tr^ned 
for  a  special  entertainment,  or  a  new  Commandant  se- 
cured from  the  Government,  or  specif  rates  deinded  upon 
tor  certain  boys;  or, — and  yet  how  vain  to  attempt  a  list  of 
the  Academy  tasks  that  were  week  by  week  tug^ng  at  his 
br^n  and  putting  their  responsibilities  upon  his  heart. 

Let  it  not  be  concluded  that  the  other  Trustees  were  unsym- 
pathetic or  disloyal.  He  found  rich  delight  in  the  devotion 
of  the  local  trustees  to  the  school.  They  were  in  nearly  every 
case  plain,  imlettered  farmers,  with  no  experience  nor  tnuning 
that  fitted  them  for  conducting  a  great  Academy,  But  they 
were  sympathetic  and  stood  loyally  by  their  Premdent  and 
in  many  ways  reinforced  his  labors  in  behalf  of  the  institution. 
But  with  all  this  it  was  be  who  carried  the  load  and  the  innumer- 
able perplexities  of  management  and  upbuilding  put  many  a 
thorn  in  his  pillow. 

In  his  visits  to  us  in  Baltimore  we  could  read  between  the 
lines  and  see  the  Academy  worries  that  were  stnunii^  and 
ofttimes  bewildering  him.  The  school  was  the  child  of  his  heart, 
"and"  said  he  "like  our  children  generally  they  always  give  us 
our  greatest  joys  and  our  greatest  cares." 

"The  care  of  the  school  is  very  fearful  upon  me"  he  writes 
me  on  Dec.  10th.  "It  has  points  of  peril  that  I  have  not 
had  to  deal  with  before.  It  uses  much  of  my  time  and  in 
that  way  lessens  my  income  seriously.  But  I  cannot  let  go. 
I  was  not  built  that  way.    I  hope  to  come  to  Baltimore  on 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


618  THE  ACADEMY 

Jan.  2nd  [for  a  dedication].    I  have  two  meetings  in  Indiana 
uid  one  in  South  Carolina." 

He  took  pride  in  the  thought  that  the  Academy  was  a  ^ver 
rather  than  a  recipient.  It  bad  been  his  duty  often  to  canvass 
Vir^pnia  for  funds  for  other  Baptist  Schools  and  he  knew  that 
the  denomination  was  heavily  burdened.  It  gave  tiim  comfort 
to  think  that  he  had  been  able  to  pull  his  Academy  along 
without  troubling  the  denomination.  Yea  he  rejoiced  that 
he  had  done  far  more,  he  had  made  it  a  fountain  of  blessing 
in  the  aid  and  triuning  that  it  had  given  to  many  a  poor  am- 
bitious boy  and  in  the  sendii^  out  of  well-equipped  young  men 
into  the  denomination  to  fill  its  pulpits,  its  professor's 
chairs  and  other  positions  of  influence.  It  was  this  fact  that 
cheered  him  and  nerved  him  to  his  sacrifices  and  activities. 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  in  connection  with  his  labors 
for  the  Academy  he  was  busy  with  manifold  activities  of 
other  Idnda,— such  as  conductii^  revival  meetii^s  in  which  he 
preached  twice  and  sometimes  three  times  a  day,  writing  lus 
weekly  S.  S.  Lessons  for  the  Baptist  Teacher,  funushing 
editorial  matter  to  different  papers,  participating  in  the  meet- 
ings and  work  of  various  Boards  and  committees  of  a  denomi- 
national character,  dedicating  churches,  preparing  special 
;,  etc.,  etc. 


We  are  next  called  upon  to  view  him  while  grappling  defiantly 
with  dckness  in  his  efforts  to  keep  busy. 

"Your  father  has  been  constantly  at  the  typewriter"  writes 
my  mother  "but  has  been  sick  for  two  days— working  on  his 
S.  S.  Lessons.  He  seems  to  enjoy  writing.  He  got  home  on 
Monday  worse  for  wear  with  a  cold  like  Grippe.  That  night 
he  was  slightly  delirious — as  he  always  is,  when  he  has  a  fever." 

He  went  to  Salem  and  there  on  Monday  the  battle  wait 
agfunst  him  and  his  rackness  laid  him  low.  "Taken  mournful^ 
ack  Monday"  he  writes.  "Endured  the  pangs  and  woes  of  the 
meeting  [Orphanage  Trustees]  and  dragged  my  aching  frame 
to  Tom  Shipman's  in  Roanoke  and  fell  into  as  loving  embraces 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BATTLING  WITH  SICKNESS  519 

as  were  ever  bestowed  upon  Angels  when  they  were  traveling 
in  disguise.  My  ackneaa  is  Grippe — hard  and  harsh — filled 
with  pricking  pain  and  racking  me  as  if  I  had  met  a  martyr's 
doom.  .  .  1  shall  doctor  myself  for  my  Baltimore  trip  and 
by  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  I  hope  to  see  you  within  a  week." 
Kev.  Thomas  ShJpman,  in  whose  home  he  was  so  lovingly 
entertained,  thus  writes  to  Mrs.  Hatcher: 

"Do  you  know  that  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  he  will  go  on 
to  Baltimore  for  next  Sunday  and  dedicate  that  church.  You 
just  can't  hold  him  down.  His  life  is  worth  too  much  to  the 
people  for  him  to  overtax  and  expose  himself  at  his  age.  He 
is  our  great  leader  Emd  we  can't  spare  him  just  now.  Can't 
you  get  Mm  to  write,  write  more?" 

"I  doubt  whether  he  ought  to  preach  and  speak  so  much" 
writes  his  wife.  "Evidently  his  larynx  is  the  delicate  organ. 
I  wish  there  was  some  way  to  get  him  to  take  better  care  of 
himself." 

He  went  to  Baltimore,  stayed  in  our  home  and  preached  the 
dedicatory  sermon  at  the  new  Second  Baptist  Church,  after 
which  he  hurried — still  sick — ^back  to  Richmond,  from  which 
point  he  wrote  his  wife  to  prepare  for  his  coming  on  the  late 
trun  that  evening  to  Bremo: 

"Coming  up  this  evening.  It  is  a  risk,  but  put  curtuns  on 
the  buggy  and  plenty  wraps.  Tell  Horace  to  use  robe  on  horse 
at  depot.    Better  bring  lamp." 

He  went  and  Ms  wife  wrote  that  he  arrived  that  night 
"when  the  weather  was  below  zero" — after  a  drive  of  five  miles 
from  the  depot.  Dr.  MuUins  had  invited  him  to  speak  at  the 
Seminary  in  Louisville  on  Founder's  Day  and  although  he 
was  sick  yet  he  made  the  trip.  " 

"The  long  jump  to  Louisville  brings  me  pause"  he  writes 
"for  I  do  not  seem  to  be  on  the  top  crest  of  health.  But  travel 
seems  the  only  saving  exercise  for  me  so  far  as  health  is  concerned. 
I  quit  my  bed  to  go  from  Roanoke  to  Lynchburg — quit  Lyneh- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


620  LECTUBE  IN  LOUISVILLE 

baTg  for  Baltimore  and  it  agreed  with  me — quit  Baltimore,  in 
the  face  of  stentorian  protest,  to  go  to  Richmond  and  fattened 
on  it— quit  Richmond  for  Fork  Union  and  here  1  am  getting 
my  going-temper  up  to  the  fighting  point.  I  love  Louisville 
but  if  it  was  to  Baltimore  I  was  starting  I  would  feet  new  thrills. 
But  let  me  not  be  ungrateful.  Mrs.  Marvin  cl^ms  me  as  her 
guest  and  that  is  a  clean  sweep  to  royal  honors. 

"I  am  in  a  sub-cellar  of  despond  about  my  speech  but  I 
trust  the  Lord  will  meet  me  at  the  crisis  and  pull  me  through. 
Cook  sick  at  Careby  and  things  not  at  the  apple  pie  counter." 

He  went  to  Louisville  and  on  the  19th  he  writes  me: 

"The  time  of  my  life.    This  has  been  the  best, 
"My  poor  skinny  lecture  drew  a  crowd  and  seemed  to  hit 
the  bull  s  optic.    Sunday  I  preached  twice — -at  East  Church 
in  the  morning  and  at  Broadway  at  ni^t.  Had  ripping  crowds 
and  folks  went  quite  foolish." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

1907 

COHHENCES    VRITINa  HIS  NEW  BOOK.      BIOORAPHT.      COLOATB  LEO 

TDREB.       DELINEATINO  CHARACTER.      WORKING  AT  HIGH 

PRESSURE.      ADDRESS  AT  INDUNAPOLIB  ON  "tHE 

MAKING  OF  THE  AHERICAN  GBNTLEHAN." 

Friends  communicated  with  Mr.  Revell,  the  New  York 
publisher,  about  the  importance  of  enlisting  Dr.  Hatcher  in  the 
writing  of  one  or  more  books.  Writing  of  his  visit  to  Louisville 
he  says: 

"Mullins  is  quite  up  on  my  books  and  urges  me  to  write  fast 
and  often.    I  start  home  this  evenii^." 

He  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Revell  that  quickened  his 
pace  in  the  matter  of  book  writing.  We  had  talked  of  two 
books, — one  a  book  of  Reminiscences  and_the  other  a  book  on 
John  Jasper,  the  colored  preacher  of  the  "Sun  Do  Move" 
fame.  Upon  bis  return  from  Louisville  he  writes  me  further 
about  bis  new  book,  in  the  production  of  which  be  is  now  be- 
coming much  interested: 

"I  have  other  stories  of  the  sort  that  you  seat  to  Mr.  Revell. 
I  caa  nm  them  off  quite  fast  and  will  do  my  best.  But  my 
lecture  engagements,  my  editorial  work  and  several  trips  on 
work  intent  crowd  me  up  considerably. 

"Dr.  Mullins.  .  .  was  quite  fierce  in  his  enthusiasm 
about  the  pubhcation  as  I  knew  he  would  be.  He  is  surely 
the  King  of  the  Louisville  Dominions. 

He  writes  me  on  February  25tb  that  he  has  decided  to 
publish  the  book  on  "John  Jasper"  first  and  let  the  otlier 
publication  come  out  later  and  then  adds: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


822  THE  JASPER  BOOK 

"I  wish  you  would  see  also  how  many  humorous  stories — 
with  a  religious  side  to  them — you  would  find  a«!Ceptable  with 
the  publisher.  The  book  ought  to  be  departmental  in  a  small 
sense.  I  could  pile  in  things  on  the  laughing  side  of  my  min- 
istry  and  many  of  them  have  a  serious  undertone.  Not  one  is 
touched  with  irreverence." 

"Just  from  Winfree's"  he  writes  his  wife  on  March  6th; 
"Wrote  Jasper's  sermon  on  'The  Sun  Do  Move'  while  there. 
Am  busy  with  stenographer  on  my  New  York  lectures.  I  go 
to  South  Carolina  tomorrow.  Tell  Horace  to  use  this  weather 
repairing  fences  at  farm," 

Hegardii^  the  plan  of  the  Jasper  book  he  writes;  "I  must 
eschew  the  old  run  of  biographic  history  and  give  it  a  dash  of 
the  genuine  Jasper,"  In  other  words,  his  new  book  is  to  be, — 
not  a  history  but  a  picture  of  Jasper.  Is  there  not  much 
Uterary  philosophy  couched  in  those  words  "a  dash  of  the 
genuine  Jasper."  It  was  as  if  he  would  say  that  the  met© 
historical  details  of  Jasper's  life  might  not  show  "the  genuine 
Jasper."  Such  historical  details  could  easily  conceal  or  distort 
the  real  man.  It  was  his  purpose  that  the  Jasper  in  his  book 
should  be  the  genuine  article  and  his  expression  "a  dash" 
indicates  that  he  has  in  mind  a  sketch  rather  than  a  full,  life- 
sized  oil  painting.  His  remark  takes  a  fling  at  what  he  calls 
"the  old  run  of  bi(^Taphic  history"  and  speaks  of  it  as  some- 
thing that  he  would  "eschew".  I  have  looked  upon  the  rows 
of  biographies  so  many  of  which  stand  in  undisturbed  quiet  upon 
the  shelves  of  our  public  hbraries.  I  have  wondered  if  the 
present  book  would  join  the  dust-covered  company.  This 
timid  writer  has  already  taken  the  reader  into  bis  confidence  by 
telling  him  that  he  too  is  seeking  to  "eschew  the  old  run  of 
biographic  history"  and  to  present  a  picture  of  the  genuine 
William  E.  Hatcher  and  if  the  curioaty  of  any  reader  may  not 
he  satisfied  in  these  pages  as  to  the  particular  places  visited 
by  Dr.  Hatcher,  or  the  dates  on  wluch  his  performances  occured, 
it  is  hoped  that  be  will  feel  more  than  compensated  in  dia* 
covering  the  individual  behind  the  deeds;  for  it  is  not  the  visible 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SOUTH  CAROLINA  523 

movements  of  the  man,  but  rather  the  personality  hidden  under 
the  daily  activities,  that  enlists  our  interest. 

His  letter  to  me,  which  is  referred  to  above,  was  as  follows: 

"I  hope  you  have  copies  of  all  the  articles  written  thus  far, 
...  I  am  going  out  today  and  look  for  three  or  four  officers 
of  Jasper's  church  and  gather  some  things  if  possible  that 
will  go  further  in  giving  us  all  the  material  we  want. 

"I  am  not  sure  that  I  desire  to  have  the  book  called  'The 
Sun  Do  Move.'  It  would  really  belie  the  character  of  the 
book.  .  ■  It  [the  sermon  on  "The  Sun  do  move"]  was  really 
one  of  the  most  eloquent  and  powerful  sermons  that  he  ever 
preached.    .    .    Tomorrow  I  go  to  Edgefield,  S.  C. 

"P.  S, — I  called  on  one  of  the  digtutaries  of  Brother  Jasper's 
church  this  afternoon  and  struck  the  track  of  what  I  hope 
will  prove  much  valuable  information.  .  .  I  must  eschew 
the  old  run  of  biographic  history  and  give  it  a  dash  of  the 
genuine  Jasper." 

South  Carolina  seemed  to  attract  him  and  during  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life  it  became  a  frequent  trampii^  ground  for 
him  in  his  revival  meetings.  From  Edgefield,  in  that  state, 
he  writes  on  March  16th,  "Life  is  at  high  tide  in  this  historic 
county  seat  at  this  moment.  Our  meeting  is  simply  glorious. 
It  fills  me  with  grateful  wonder." 

"I  wish"  writes  his  wife  "he  could  write  shorter  letters  to 
folks.  But  they  are  often  personal  letters  from  folks  who  want 
him  to  help  them  and  he  has  a  mind  always  to  do  a  good  part 
by  them;  that  is  right  I  suppose." 

Dr.  A.  J.  Fristoe  was  holding  meetings  at  the  Academy  and 
as  he  caught  aght  of  Dr.  Hatcher  at  Careby  Hall  in  the  midst 
of  his  labors  he  thus  writes: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  is  one  of  the  budest  men  I  have  ever  seen. 
Knowing  he  was  no  longer  identified  with  a  responsible  pas- 
torate I  supposed  that  his  duties  would  not  be  so  numerous 
but  I  found  quite  the  contrary  to  be  true.  His  correspondence 
is  laige,  lectures  for  universities,  colleges  and  Seminaries  are 
b^ng  prepared,  newspapers  are  clamoring  for  the  products 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


624  LECTURES  AT  COLGATE 

of  Hb  pen  and  at  no  distant  date  several  books  will  be  ready 
for  the  press.  And,  beside  all  this,  Richmond  Collie,  Fork 
Union  Academy,  the  Orphanage,  the  Ekiiication  Commission 
and  other  great  interests  of  Vii^ma  Baptists  require  his  close 
identification  and  actually  before  my  meeting  was  half  over 
he  was  wired  to  attend  a  funeral  in  Richmond  and  proceed 
thence  to  South  Carolina  to  hold  a  meeting.  May  God  spare 
him  to  UB  many  years," 

In  the  previous  year  he  had  been  prevented  by  Rickneas  from 
dehvering  three  lectures  at  Colgate  Seminary  and  he  had  ag^^ed 
to  deliver  them  in  April  of  the  present  year.  About  April  1st 
he  arrived  in  Hamilton,  New  York,  to  perform  his  promised 
task, — that  of  speaking  out  of  a  ministry  of  fifty  years  to  a  body 
of  young  preachers.  He  dehvered  three  lectures.  The  first  one 
was  on  "The  Imperishable  Things."  In  his  introduction  to  this 
lecture  he  recognized  the  upheaval  in  the  world  of  Biblical 
scholarship  and  he  said  that  many  timid  souls  feared  that  this 
scientific  inquiry  threatened  disaster  to  the  Bible.  He  pleaded 
for  an  openness  to  the  truth.  "Let  us  be  willing  to  know  the 
truth  and  let  us  take  time  to  find  it  out.  Let  us  not  be  uneasy 
lest  the  foimdations  of  the  righteous  be  destroyed." 

He  then  singled  out  four  facts  regarding  the  christian  min- 
istry, which  amid  earths'  changes  and  uncertainties  stood  out  as 
imperishable.  These  were:  I.  The  ministry  itself.  IL  The 
ministry-producing  force.  III.  The  demand  for  the  ministry. 
Under  this  head  the  speaker  said:  "No  man  can  read  the  ngos 
of  the  time,  as  they  are  written  on  passing  events,  without 
feeling  that  there  is  a  new  spirituality — shadowy,  indistinct 
and  yet  undeniable — that  is  throbbing  in  the  air  of  this  world. 
Materialism  is  balked  and  mortified  by  its  failures.  It  heard 
the^cry  of  the  soul  asking  to  be  fed;  it  had  nothing  but  the 
stone  and  the  scorpion  to  give  in  reply.  IV.  The  order  for  the 
universal  enforcement  of  the  gospel; — which  he  said  was  "the 
most  audacious  and  startling  word  that  hiunan  lips  ever  uttered, 
— the  Great  Commission." 

His  second  lecture  was — but  perhaps  some  reader  of  a  non- 
theologicaJ  turn  of  mind  may  think  it  a  waste  of  space  to  be 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


THE  MAN  WHO  ARRIVES  525 

retailing  here  the  thoughts  that  were  presented  to  a  Seminary 
audience.  And  yet  the  reader  might  pemut  us  to  remind  him  that 
this  book  is  a  sort  of  open  Commons  where  one  may  roam  at 
pleasure  and  if  he  finds  himself  persecuted  in  one  part  he  nmy 
flee  unto  another,  and  who  knows  but  that  some  readers  may, 
in  lighting  upon  these  cullings  from  Dr.  Hatcher's  lectures, 
rejoice  as  if  he  had  found  some  fine  gold;  and  be^de  it  is  a 
principle  in  hterary  culture  that  the  mind  should  not  follow 
too  slavishly  the  narrow  path  of  its  own  preferences,  but  should 
sometimes  at  least  widen  the  rai^  of  its  studies  and  browse 
in  pastures  new.  If  the  reader  thinks  that  these  comments  and 
side  remarks  might  be  dispensed  with  let  him  understand  that 
they  are  interjected  in  mercy  to  him,  to  serve  as  resting  places 
along  his  way  as  he  joumeys  through  these  pages,  and  possibly, 
also,  as  contrasts  to  the  bulk  of  the  material  with  which  this 
book  is  filled.  Fielding  says  in  his  history  of  Tom  Jones, 
"Judicious  writers  have  always  practised  this  art  of  contrast 

with  great  success The  Jeweler  knows  that  the 

finest  brilliant  requires  a  foil  and  the  piunter,  by  the  contrast 
of  his  ^pires,  often  acquires  great  applause."  If  the  reader 
ther^ore  should  weary  of  such  collateral  disquiations,  as  bdng 
dulness  embodied,  let  him  use  them  to  set  off  to  even  greater 
advantage  the  gleanings  and  incidents  from  Dr.  Hatcher's 
hfe  which  constitute  the  other  portions.  A  humorous  writer 
of  a  century  or  more  ago  "told  the  public  that  whenever  he  was 
dull  they  might  be  assured  there  was  design  in  it,"  and  with 
this  ancient  writer  as  my  authority,  and  trusting  that  the  reader 
will  after  these  reminders  withdraw  his  objections,  I  will  take  up 
the  second  Lecture  which  bore  the  unique  title  of  "The  man 
who  arrives"  and  it  must  be  understood  at  the  outset  that  this 
subject  is  Edmply  an  old  acquaintance  decked  up  in  new  and 
more  becoming  attire  and  known  on  the  street,  or  in  the  market 
place,  as  "the  man  who  gets  there"  and  as  he  was  addresdi^ 
young  preachers  he  had  in  mind,  of  course,  "the  preacher  who 
arrives."  He  then  proceeds  ia  mention  four  things  that  the 
effective  minister  sQUSt  ttftVe- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


526  THE  THIRD  LECTURE 

"I.  The  jwwer  of  adaptatioD," — and  this  he  defines  as  "Gte 
power  to  grapple  surprises." 

"II.  The  power  of  discovering  relationships."  This  quality 
with  him  seemed  to  stand  almost  first  in  his  list  of  ministerial 
qualifications.  He  thought  that  great  men  differed  from  small 
men  largely  in  their  ability  to  see  things  in  th&i  relation  to  other 
thills.  He  always  aeemed  afraid  of  the  man  who  could  see 
only  one  thing  at  a  time. 

"A  truth  seen  outside  of  its  family  is  a  stranger"  sud  he. 
He  spoke  of  the  evils  and  perils  of  half  truths.  "John  Calvin" 
said  he  "had  his  study  in  Geneva  and  from  his  irindow  could 
behold  the  eternal  glaciers  of  the  Alps.  Had  be  been  bom  on 
the  other  aide  of  the  mountains  and  beheld  the  woodland,  the 
lake  and  the  sunlight  of  Italy  he  would  have  hardly  believed  there 
could  be  a  glacier." 

"3.  The  capacity  for  the  gradation  of  duties." 

"4.  Mastery  over  men.  The  minister  must  be  the  princdiest 
man  in  his  church — well  rounded,  with  his  infinnities  under 
cover,  with  no  apol<^etic  note,  without  whine  or  sob,  bright, 
strong,  commanding — a  leader  of  the  people." 

The  third  lecture  had  for  its  subject,  "The  fourfold  relation 
of  the  Minister."  In  this  lecture  he  dealt  with  the  minister 
as  he  is  in  the  act  of  giving  his  message  to  his  audience,  and  the 
central,  dominating  thought  of  the  lecture  was  that  the  per- 
B<malU,y  of  tA«  preacher  is  a  mial  element  in  the  sentum. 

"The  gospel"  says  he  "fumiahea  the  divine  element  of  the 
sermon  and  the  preacher  contributes  the  human  element  and 
whenever  these  two  come  together  into  sweet  accord  and  the 
human  and  the  divine  are  blended  in  due  proportion  then  the 
sermon  will  inevitably  cany  immeasurable  power." 

The  speaker  then  unfolded  the  four  things  ^irtiich  should 
mark  the  minister  "who  appears  before  the  public  with  a 


"1.  He  must  be  the  master  of  his  own  personality." 

"It  was  scathingly  said  of  one  preacher  that  he  would  have 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  THIRD  LECmjUE  627 

been  great  but  for  the  fact  that  he  waa  everlastingly  in  hie 
own  way.  .  .  Oh,  it  ia  a  matchless  sight — a  minister  who 
moves  with  unstudied  grace,  carried  unconscious  dignity  and 
does  and  says  the  fitting  thing." 

"2.  He  must  be  in  fellowship  with  his  audience.  Not  that  he 
must  dream  and  scheme  to  please,  .  .  He  who  trims  his 
sails  to  catch  the  passing  breeze  will  be  lost  on  a  calm  sea.  .  . 
Nor  must  a  man  trifle  with  his  audience.  .  .  The  true 
minister  reverences  his  audience.  They  are  to  him  creatures 
of  God,  bearing  about  them  marks  of  a  majestic  origin  and 
wearing  the  signs  of  a  noble  destiny.  .  .  If  he  touches 
the  evil  in  them  it  is  with  a  surgeon's  blade  but  always  with  a 
gentle  hand." 

"3.  There  must  be  kinship  between  the  preacher  and  his 
sermon.  He  must  be  the  father  of  the  sermon;  not  the  step- 
father, not  its  adopted  father.  It  must  be  the  child  of  his 
brain,  his  culture  and  his  travail.  .  It  takes  a  spiritual  man 
to  make  a  sermon,  and,  even  more,  a  spiritual  man  to  preach 
it  well.  It  is  a  serious  business  to  inake  sermons  and  only  fools 
stop  you  on  the  street,  whisk  out  their  note  books  and  spin  off. 
their  sickly  little  analyses  as  if  they  had  gotten  their  new  mes- 
sages from  the  throne." 

"The  sermon  without  the  man  is  at  best  just  one  half  of 
a  sermon.  Jesus  himself  chained  his  teaching  with  the  electric 
force  of  his  own  personality," 

"4.  There  must  be  a  good  understanding  between  the  minister 
and  his  master.  .  .  We  cannot  preach  a  Uving  gospel  imless 
we  are  in  living  fellowship  with  God." 

"Oh,  why  do  not  men  preach?  What  is  the  matter  with 
UB?  ...  1  take  up  the  lament  of  Jeter,  one  of  the  greater 
men  of  the  South, — 'Oh,  that  I  could  preachl  I  cannot  preach. 
I  never  have  preached.  My  heart  fwls  me  lest  I  quit  the  earth 
without  ever  preaching  a  worthy  sermon,' " 

"Some  make  sermons,  but  cannot  preach  them;  some  can 
preach,  but  caimot  forge  the  thunder-bolts  of  truth.  Lord 
send  us  the  sermon-maker,  the  man  with  a  message  who  can 
wake  the  dead  by  delivering  it." 

He  gave  them  the  cream  of  his  thinking  and  of  his  exper- 
ience as  a  preacher  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  there  was  an 
urgent  demand  for  the  publication  in  permanent  form  of  the 
lectures.     He  yielded  to  the  request  of  the  ITjuveraty  by 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


528  DR.  ARTHUR  JONES 

writing  out  for  publication  his  second  lecture,  "The  man  who 
arrives." 

It  was  rare  that  he  remained  in  a  community  of  choice  men 
for  many  days  that  his  soul  did  not  single  out  some  congenial 
spirit.  At  Colgate  he  and  Dr.  Arthur  Jones,  professor  of 
Homiletics,  formed  a  friendship  that  continued  to  the  end. 
Dr.  Hatcher  had  in  him  a  tmt  that  often  made  him  find  pleasure 
in  taking  issue  with  another.  Frequently  in  dealing  with  men,  in- 
stead of  seeking  to  keep  his  dealings  on  a  placidly  tumable  and 
harmonious  level  he  would  assume  the  aggressive.  He  liked 
a  contest,  ofttimes  preferring  a  conversational  tussle  and  he 
liked  a  man  who  did  not  always  agree  with  him.  For  example, 
he  writes  concerning  his  experiences  with  Dr.  Jones  of  Colgate: 

"My  home  was  with  that  matchless  Honuletic&l  Wrangler, 
Dr.  Arthur  Jones.  What  happiness  it  was?  Didn't  we  fling 
care  and  sorrow  to  the  wind  and  have  storms  of  dispute, 
enjoyment  and  love?  I  would  think  it  cheap  to  cross  the  ocean 
to  have  it  over  again.  Every  hour  brought  ita  pleasure  and  to 
the  Doctor  and  his  most  hospitable  wife  I  am  greatly  indebted." 

His  programme  for  the  next  few  weeks  was  varied.  From 
Colgate  he  took  a  long  dash  to  Dillon,  S,  0.  where  he  wrote 
that  "the  meeting  rose  to  celestial  heights".  He  hurried  back 
to  Fork  Union  and  after  writing  that  at  Dillon  every  store  and 
office  had  closed  for  the  services  he  ended  his  letter  by  saying. 
"Things  look  interestii^  and  happy  here  but  I  grunt  at  the 
sight  of  my  letter  pile."  This  pile  had  been  accumulating  during 
his  Colgate  and  his  Dillon  visits,  and  then  he  adds,  "I  go  to 
Geor^a  next  Thursday".  And  thus  it  went  week  by  week. 
From  one  fitat«  to  another,  and  in  widely  different  fonns  of 
ministerial  activity,  he  kept  driving  ahead  with  bis  labors, 
working  while  it  was  day. 

He  was  such  a  lover  of  men  that  he  was  frequently  called 
upon  to  write  or  speak  tributes  in  honor  of  prominent  men  who 
had  recently  died.  The  family  of  a  departed  leader  would 
often  turn  to  him  as  the  one  who  could  speak  the  fitting  word. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PORTRAYAL  OF  CHARACTER    529 

We  have  already  called  attention  to  his  power  of  analysis 
in  delineating  character.  It  was  striking  how  honest  he  could 
be  in  his  portraiture  of  men  without  being  in  any  way  offensive. 
He  was  asked  to  deliver  the  funeral  address  of  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  Baptist  laymen  that  Virginia  ever  produced. 
The  occasion  was  a  memorable  one  and  before  the  service  he 
went  to  a  prominent  son  in  the  family  and  said  to  him,  "You 
have  asked  me  to  deUver  this  address.  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand that  I  shall  seek  to  ffve  a  full  and  true  portrait  of  your 
father  and  shall  not  seek  to  cover  up  any  of  his  faulte." 

"You  have  an  open  track,  Doctor"  he  replied. 

The  address  made  a  profound  impression.  His  happy  art 
in  portraying  character  grew  out  of  his  manner  of  dealing  with 
men.  The  conventionahtiea  uid  customs  of  people  about  him 
were  to  him  surface  truts  which  often  concealed  or  obscured 
the  person  underneath  instead  of  revealii^  him.  He  carried 
on  his  n^otiations  with  the  real  man  within. 

Even  in  the  case  of  httle  children  their  pretty  ways  and  cute 
mannerisms  did  not  particularly  impress  him.  He  wanted  to 
see  the  real  boy,  or  prl,  underneath  these  little  nidties  of 
manner.  He  could  never  make  any  headway  in  becoming 
interested  in  babies.  As  for  caressing  the  little  things  and  of 
frolicking  with  them  as  if  they  were  playthings  he  could  not 
and  would  not.  He  would  say  in  the  case  of  his  grandchildren 
"I'm  wfuUn^  for  them  to  get  companionable."  Ofttimes  when 
he  was  watching  some  httle  ones  who  were  playii^  near  him 
and  when  it  was  thought  he  was  noticing  thwr  antics,  their 
movements  or  their  looks  he  would  say,  "That  boy  is  a  philo- 
sopher; see  what  he  did"  or  be  would  point  to  another  child 
Baying,  "That's  perseverance."  In  other  words,  beneath  the 
chatter  uid  rompings  of  the  children,  he  saw  qualities  and 
characteristics  and  it  was  for  these  that  he  was  always  looking, 
and  until  the  children  became  old  enough  to  show  some  indl- 
viduahty  and  traits  he  could  not  become  particularly  interested 
in  them, — ^though  even  in  the  case  of  the  infants  he  would 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


630    PORTRAYAL  OF  CHARACTER 

often  remark  on  the  "d^ance"  or  "rd)dlkBi"  or  "^sgust" 
that  theiT  cries  indicated. 

It  aeemed  that  he  loved  to  speak  at  the  fanenUs  of  men  <rf 
mark  not  only  because  of  bis  desire  to  honor  tbor  memory 
but  also  because  tbe  delineation  of  character  vas  an  act  that  he 
keenly  enjoyed.  His  mind  seoned  to  carry  bo  cle^ ly  the  out- 
lines and  lineamaits  of  individu^  that  when  their  peracmality 
was  to  be  trnveiled  at  th^  funerals  he  found  pleasure  in 
tbe  unvaling. 

Upon  learning  one  day  at  Careby  of  the  sudden  death  of  a 
gentleman  who  bad  been  greatly  estranged  from  him  be  said, 
"I  would  like  to  speak  at  his  funeral.  I  could  do  it  better  than 
anybody  else."  This  remark  which  was  made  to  his  flaughter 
in  his  office  sounded  strange,  as  having  the  q>pesrance  of 
boasting,  but  he  had  seen  the  man  under  such  different  li^ts 
durii^  his  life  and  understood  him  so  well, — ^knew  his  strong, 
as  well  as  his  weak,  qualities — that  he  bated  to  see  such  an 
individual  quit  tbe  earth  with  out  a  full  and  fair  portrait  of 
him  being  held  before  his  friends  and  ndgbbors.  It  was  an 
unpremeditated  outburst  and  showed  his  love  for  delineating 
character.  His  address  at  tbe  memorial  service  of  his  cherished 
friend,  Dr.  A.  £.  Owen,  b^an  with  tbe  words: 

"When  Dr.  Garrett,  the  chieftain  of  this  generous  hour, 
adced  me  to  be  present  and  speak  today  I  confess  tbat  my  heart 
boimded  with  pleasure,  much  chastened  and  yet  so  intense, 
that  I  could  hardly  contfun  myBell," 

After  stating  that  he  knew  too  well  that  no  speech  of  his 
couid  equal  tbe  occasion  be  proceeded  to  dissect  the  character 
of  Dr.  Owen  and  to  lay  ite  different  parts  before  tbe  audience; 

"He  was  powerfully,  dangerously  ambitious  and  but  for 
the  counteracting  principle  of  fturaess  and  justice  be  would 
have  gone  to  ruin. 

"Hb  conversion  was  the  centralizing  and  all  cbanging  event 
in  his  life. 

"He  wore  his  faults  on  his  sleeve.    Mark  tbe  worst  that  he 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TRIBUTES  TO  FRIENDS  531 

was  aa  you  saw  him  day  by  day  and  I  can  safely  say  there 
was  nothing  worse  behind. 

"His  complacent  self  respect,  sometimes  a  theme  for  criti- 
cism, was  one  justified  by  a  rare  and  lofty  appreciation  of 
other  people. 

"I  dare  say  that  the  happiest  moment  of  Dr.  Owen's  life 
was  when  he  rec^ved  the  call  from  God  to  preach  the  gospel. 
He  fairly  leaped  with  exultant  joy  that  such  an  honor  had  come 
to  him. 

"His  piety  was  too  deep  to  flaunt  itself,  but  how  it  cried 
and  pleaded  and  wept  in  lus  sennons.  I  loved  Owen  for  many 
things  and  most  of  all  for  his  utter  lack  of  mock  modesty, 
his  freedom  from  mmulated  humility,  his  childlike  candor 
and  his  beautiful  transparency." 

In  his  memorial  tributes  to  Christian  men  it  seemed  to  be 
his  almost  invariable  custom  to  follow  them  to  the  other  world. 
He  took  his  parting  with  them  at  the  heavenly  rather  than 
the  earthly  gate.  Many  of  bis  addresses  could  be  mentioned 
that  end  in  this  fashion  but  there  will  be  given  here  merely 
the  cloai^  picture  in  bis  tribute  to  Dr.  Owen: 

"Ah,  when  I  was  ridii^  the  trun  from  Philadelphia  to 
Virginia  and  saw  the  telegraphic  announcement  of  his  death, 
the  earth  shook,  my  soul  sank  and  darkness  covered  the  Hills. 
I  hid  my  face  and  my  soul  got  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he  sped 
beyond  the  stars  and  entered  through  tilie  gates  mto  the  city. 
I  felt  poorer  and  yet  I  rejoiced  that  he  had  seen  his  Savior's 
face." 

Another  one  of  his  greatly  prized  friends  died, — ^Dr.  T.  P. 
Matthews  of  Manchester,  Va.  The  Doctor  had  a  character 
that  greatly  appealed  to  him.  At  his  funeral  he  drew  his 
portrut: 

"Our  brother"  said  he  "stood  on  solid  ancestral  foundations. 
You  do  not  grow  giant  trees  without  fineness  of  strain  in  the 
acorn.  Blood,  as  a  rule,  makes  the  winnii^  racer.  Sometimes, 
I  know,  great  famihes  degenerate  and  wither  under  the  waste 
of  vices,  and  now  and  then  those  of  low  degree  break  away 
from  their  entanglements,  leap  over  upper  grades  and  mount 
to  the  top. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


632  TEIBUTES  TO  FRIENDS 

"We  are  glad  it  is  so,  but,  sa  a  rule  of  nature,  it  takes  gen- 
erations to  produce  a  high  and  commanding  man.  Our  ances- 
l!ors  live  in  us  and  it  takes  virtue  and  fibre  of  three  generations 
to  make  men  what  they  ought  to  be.  Science  and  the  Bible 
hold  the  doctrine  of  heredity  as  true  and  as  solemn  as  the  day 
of  doom. 

"If  you  are  curious  to  account  for  Dr.  Matthews  you  must 
bunt  up  the  old  family  records  in  the  Bibles  of  his  fathers  and 
read  the  inscriptions  on  the  slabs  and  granite  columns  in  the 
old  ancestral  graveyards." 

"Dr.  Matthews  could  not  shake  off  the  consciousness  of  an 
honored  manhood.  He  was  by  nature  self  assertive.  His  self 
respect  was  so  inherent  that  he  was  never  apologetic,  never  on 
the  defensive,  never  trying  to  explain  why  he  was  not  otherwise 
than  he  was." 

"He  despised  cheap  and  spurious  things  and  would  neither 
buy  nor  sell  them.  When  I  characterize  my  beloved  friend 
as  an  honest  man  I  speak  of  his  inner  being,  his  essential  self, 
bis  genuineness  end  reality." 

The  same  gift  that  enabled  him  to  preach  great  sermons  on 
characters  m  the  Bible  also  enabled  him  to  portray  vividly  the 
characters  of  men  of  his  own  times. 

Concerning  the  death  of  his  friend  Dr.  W.  S.  Penick  be 
writes: 

"Dear  old  friend,  many  of  those  who  loved  you  in  the  be^- 
ning  have  outstripped  you  in  the  march  to  the  eternal  world. 
Hoste  of  ministers  and  others  who  loved  you  await  you  on  the 
other  side  and  the  thought  of  our  separation  from  you  is 
softened  by  the  recollection  that  you  had  a  royal  reception 
when  you  entered  the  city  of  hght.  Good  bye  until  we  meet 
SLgam." 

One  of  the  products  of  bis  pen  was  a  series  of  "Character 
Sketches",  written  at  odd  moments  of  time  and  published  in 
different  papers.  His  characters  were  nearly  always  ministers, 
such  aa  "Rev,  Magnus  Ego,"  "Rev.  Mr.  Scowler,"  "Rev. 
Absalom  Bustler,"  "Rev.  Matthew  Mattix,"  etc.  The  fol- 
lowing paragraphs  are  culled  from  his  sketch  of  Mr.  "Bustler." 

"Bro.  Bustler  is  emphatically  a  flitter.  No  tender-footed 
bird  ever  bopped  from  limb  to  Umb,  from  tree  to  earth  quite 


iiyGoot^lc 


CHAHACTER  SKETCHES  833 

BO  fast  &8  our  brother  can  whip  from  one  thing  to  another. 
No  place  can  contain  him.  No  company  can  engage  him. 
No  book  can  absorb  him.  No  duty  can  hold  him.  He  always 
feels  that  the  thing  he  is  doii^  is  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
countless  things  which  he  ought  to  be  doing.  His  thoi^ts 
put  Ms  hands  to  work  at  one  place  and  then  go  dashing  off 
after  something  else  and  before  his  hands  have  grappled  their 
task  they  are  suddenly  ordered  to  some  other  point.  Of 
course  sobriety  of  thought  and  rational  processes  are  things 
impossible  with  him.  His  poor  mind  gets  sick,  reels  and  blim- 
ders  in  hopeless  confusion  because  never  allowed  time  for 
meditation. 

"Mr.  Bustler  almost  amounts  to  a  circus  in  the  Sunday 
school.  By  some  odd  fate  he  plunges  into  the  Sunday  school 
room  at  the  most  ill  considered  moment.  One  time  he  sprang 
in  during  the  reading  of  the  Scripture  and  spying  a  stranger 
over  beyond  the  pulpit  he  went  whirling  by,  stumbled  over  a 
chfur,  nearly  fell  prostrate  and  greeted  the  strainer  with  such 
noisy  rapture  that  the  Scripture  lesson  was  a  disaster.  The 
teachers  in  the  school  make  grievous  complaint.  They  say 
that  he  plunges  into  their  classes  at  the  most  serious  points, 
insists  on  a  hand  shake  with  everybody,  asks  after  the  sev- 
eral famihes  represented  by  the  class  and  frequently  fires  off 
an  irrelevant  and  ludicrous  story.  One  teacher  made  it  a 
rule  to  lock  his  room  while  the  lesson  was  gfaag  on,  but  that 
very  morning  Brother  Bustler  was  charged  with  messages 
for  five  different  families  and  thundered  and  crashed  at  the 
door  until  the  door  was  reluctantly  opened.  He  delivered 
two  or  three  of  his  messages,  forgot  two  or  three  of  them  and 
closed  his  visit  with  &  pathetic  story  the  pathos  of  which  was 
futile  and  disagreeable. 

"The  music  of  the  Sunday  school  is  one  of  his  specialties — 
he  breaks  up  programs,  calls  for  unsuitable  songs,  criticises 
the  singing  and  beats  time  as  if  he  were  %hting  hornets, 
greatly  to  the  confusion  of  the  music  and  to  the  noisy  amuse* 
ment  of  the  small  boys, 

"Our  brother  is  almost  anfully  punctual  He  feels  it  sol- 
emnly incumbent  upon  him  to  b^n  the  service  on  the  stroke 
of  the  clock.  He  fixes  himself  at  the  entrance  to  the  pulpit, 
he  catches  the  stroke  of  the  clock  and  bounds  into  the  pul- 
pit hke  an  athlete  and  throws  up  his  hands  as  a  sign  for  the 
people  to  rise  to  their  feet.  His  promptness  is  absolutely 
ferocious  and  shocks  the  nerves  of  the  old  people  and  startles 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


634  SUMMER  TEAVEI£ 

the  ooDgregation  in  a  dangerous  and  rackii^  way.  If  he  dia- 
covers  vimtors  in  the  coi^regation  he  either  beckons  for  the 
ushers  or  botmds  out  of  the  pulpit  with  a  view  of  seeii^  that 
the  new  comers  are  supplied  with  hymn  books.  Now  and  then 
if  old  people  arc  brought  in  or  persons  hard  of  bearing  come 
in  he  m^ts  them  down  the  usle  and  brings  them  up.  He  ia 
the  most  consequential  hand  shaker  that  ever  perfonned  in 
his  community.  It  is  rather  offenave  to  some  of  his  people  to 
see  him  spring  from  the  pulpit  and  go  storming  down  the 
aisle  in  oi^er  to  hem  in  the  crowd  and  shake  with  the  out- 
goers.  Most  of  the  people  try  to  avoid  him  by  escaping  through 
other  doors;  some  are  quite  overwhelmed  by  bis  prolonged 
hand  shakes." 

Ihiring  the  Summer  his  schedule  called  for  visits  to  Asao- 
inaiions,  and  sermons  and  addresses  of  all  kinds.  He  had 
reached  a  condition  in  life  for  which  he  had  often  yearned  and 
that  was  a  condition  of  freedom  to  go  and  to  labor  wherever 
he  might  wish.  His  income,  while  not  large,  was  sufficient 
for  the  needs  of  himself  and  his  family  and  enabled  him  S 
respond  to  the  calls  for  his  labors — and  no  music  was  so  sweet 
to  his  ears  as  these  calls.  If  the  calls  had  stopped  coming  to  him 
he  would  have  been  in  his  grave.  But  he  went,  went  in  every 
direction,  went  to  the  little  churches  as  w^  as  to  the  lai^ 
ones,  viated  the  obscure  country  lad  as  well  as  the  man  high 
in  official  life,  went  into  other  states  as  well  as  through  Vir- 
ginia. All  over  Vii^nia  this  summer  men  were  meeting  Dr. 
Hatcher  on  the  train,  or  in  their  communities,  and  as  they 
greeted  him  they  were  wonderii^  that  at  his  advanced  age, 
he  kept  so  young  and  labored  so  indefatigably. 

"Here  I  am  this  Monday  morning"  he  writes  to  his  wife  on 
July  22nd  from  Careby  Hall  "head  over  heels  at  work  with 
my  correspondence,  mailing  catalogues  and  getting  ready  to 
go  away  tomorrow.  I  go  to  the  Dover  Association  tomorrow 
and  to  Elizabeth  City  Friday.  Next  week  I  go  to  the  Rap- 
pahannock Association  which  meets  in  the  Northern  Neck. 

"I  went  yesterday  to  the  Buckingham  church.  Ah  Fong 
went  with  me  and  he  is  invited  to  speak  at  one  of  the  Buck- 
ingham churches  this  week.  .  I  have  quite  decided  twinges 
of  sciatica  and  walk  bent  and  with  a  sort  of  side  step." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ADDRESS  AT  INDIANAPOLIS        635 

After  holding  his  fourth  series  of  evacgeliatic  meetings  &t 
Wake  Forest  College  he  went  to  Indianapolis,  where  he  de- 
livered an  address  before  the  Baptist  Social  Union  of  that  dty. 
The  subject  was  "The  Building  of  the  American  Gentlemim." 

"A  gentleman",  says  he,  "is  supposed  to  be  the  best  output, 
the  finest  product,  of  the  civihzation  of  the  country  to  which 
he  belongs.  .  .  .  Every  country  and  even  every  barbarous 
tribe  produces  its  beet  man." 

The  speaker  then  proceeds  to  tell  how  America  has  been 
seeking  by  devious  ways  to  bring  her  own  best  man,  her  "gen- 
tleman", to  completion  so  that  she  could  regard  him  as  a 
finished  product.  "In  colonial  times"  said  he  "the  scions  of 
the  titled  classes  were  shipped  to  this  country, — usually  not 
the  best  material".  Having  failed  to  build  our  gentlemen  out 
of  this  imported  stock  we  have, — according  to  the  speaker, — 
"built  our  gentlemen  after  foreign  models,"  After  referring 
to  Washii^ton's  weakness  for  knee  buckles  and  powder  and 
Jefferson's  hankering  for  French  habits  and  many  people's 
pr^erence  for  clothes  with  a  British  misfit  he  affirms  that 
"when  the  Americui  gentleman  arrives  his  Americanism  will 
be  his  distinguishing  mark." 

"I  had  a  friend"  he  says  "one  of  the  noblest  of  all  the  earth — 
who  said  to  me  in  the  prime  of  his  manhood  that  his  supreme 
aspiration,  from  his  youth,  was  to  be  a  gentleman,  but  tb&t  he 
hMl  concluded  reluctantly  that  it  was  beyond  his  attainment. 
Through  many  years  he  and  I  would  meet  and  I  would  ask 
him  how  went  the  struggle.  'I  have  seen  him'  he  would  say. 
'but  not  with  these  mortal  eyes.  I  have  glimpsed  him  in 
visi<ms  of  enraptured  fancy  and  the  sight  thrilled  me,  but  it  is 
too  high  for  me;  it  is  vain  to  hope.  I  cannot  attain  unto  it 
but  the  vision  has  enobled  me  and  though  I  die  outside  the 
gate  I  will  feel  the  betterthat  I  saw  the  gentleman  in  my  dream.' 
I  thought  that  my  friend  was  hke  a  prince  and  he  was  and  yet 
be  was  not  a  gentleman." 

"The  gentlemui  for  whom  we  are  searching  must  not  be 
simply  a  gentleman  but  he  must  be  an  American  gentleman.  . 
.    .    What  is  America.    ..    It  is  ...    a  country  which 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


836        LETTER  TO  DE.  E.  B.  BRYAN 

stands  on  the  platfonn  which  offers  every  citiEeo  a  chance. 
Not  tiiat  every  dtizen  can  be  a  gentleman,  nor  that  all  can  be 
equal,  but  the  essential  American  idea  is  to  ^ve  every  man  a 
chance  to  work  out  Ms  destiny. 

"I  lay  it  down  as  my  closing  proportion  that  every  Baptist 
ought  to  be  a  gentleman.  .  .  The  fundamental  idea  of  a 
Baptist  is  personal  reaponsibility." 

He  went  to  Franklin,  Indiana  where  he  enjoyed  some  de- 
lightful hours  with  his  friend,  President  E.  B.  Bryui.  After 
his  visit  to  Franklin  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Dr.  Bryan 
that  exhibits  two  of  his  traits, — hia  interest  in  young  people 
and  his  enthusiasm  for  progress: 

"I  must  not  forget  to  extend  to  you  my  soul's  tribute  for 
your  exceedii^  gracious  hospitality.  My  visit  to  your  home 
was  a  pleasure  unmixed  and  can  never  be  forgotten. 

"My  heart  warmed  for  the  scarred  singer  who  sat  across   ■ 
the  table  from  me  and  1  feel  that  when  your  htur  grows  gray 
and  twinges  of  pain  wrench  your  knees  he  will  be  a  tower  of 
strength  for  you  to  lean  upon.    I  marked  too  the  radiant  face 
of  what  I  suppose  is  too  large  to  call  your  baby. 

"Most  of  all  my  thoughts  have  gone  out  to  Miss  Helen  who 
is  now  on  Virginia  soil  and  whose  prosperity  I  must  not  cease 
to  pray  for. 

"Let  me  add  that  the  College  was  a  surprise  to  me.  Signs 
of  growth  and  prosperity  in  any  good  thing  are  intoxicants 
always  to  me,  but — what  was  far  better  than  that — was  the 
spirit  of  the  school,  intangible,  potent  and  r^re^iing." 

He  put  Louisville  on  his  schedule  for  this  Western  trip  and 
wrote  me  from  that  city : 

"My  Dear  E, — Here  I  am  at  dear  old  Louisville.  I  ate 
supper  with  the  Carys  last  night  and  was  in  imminent  danger  of 
being  eaten  up  by  the  Carys. 

"I  supply  the  pulpit  at  Broadway  tomorrow  and  go  Monday 
to  Huntingdon,  W.  Va.,  where  I  am  to  help  Wood  in  a  meeting. 
My  visit  to  Indianapolis  was  fine  in  many  things  but  crip- 
pled sorely  by  a  storm, — a  wild,  blowing,  beating,  tempestuous 
raJD.  My  theme  was,  "The  building  of  the  American  Gentleman' 
and  I  dont  think  he  was  quite  up  to  the  mark  after  I  got  him 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MEETINGS  AT  HUNTINGTON,  W.  VA.  537 

built.  I  know  if  he  was  a  gentleman  I  did  not  feel  like  one 
when  I  got  through.  Of  course  the  delicious  platitudes  of  such 
an  occasion  were  lavished  upon  me  and  mitigated  my  sorrows 
in  a  measure. 

"The  radiant  episode  in  my  trip  was  a  day  spent  at  Franklin 
College.  It  wafl  rich  in  many  things,  some  of  which  I  may  tell 
you  wxjut  in  the  future. 

"I  understand  that  Dr.  B.  H.  Carroll  takes  me  to  task  in  the 
Western  Recorder  for  some  thii^  in  the  appeal  which  I  made 
recently  for  the  Seminary.  I  have  not  seen  the  article  but  I 
am  a  great  lover  of  Dr.  Carroll  and  there  can  be  no  strife 
between  me  and  him,  nor  between  my  bondsmen  and  his 
bondsmen.  I  can  make  no  reply  that  will  not  be  absolutely 
fraternal.  Meanwhile  my  soul  is  righteously  burdened  about 
our  Seminary.  I  glory  much  in  what  it  is  and  sigh  much  for 
the  things  it  ought  to  be  and  will  be,  but  is  not  yet.  We  ought 
to  have  a  million  more  for  its  endowment." 

During  hia  Louisville  virit  he  took  a  meal  one  day  with 
the  young  ministers  at  the  Seminary  and  one  of  them  thus 
referred  in  the  papers  to  his  visit: 

"This  princely  father  in  Israel  whose  pen  and  voice  have 
edified  so  many  thousands,  dined  with  us  m  the  hall  and  upon 
invitation  made  a  most  felicitous  response  before  the  students." 

He  went  the  latter  part  of  November  to  Huntington,  W.  Va., 
to  aid  Dr.  M.  L.  Wood  in  meetings. 

Dr.  Wood  thus  writes  in  the  Herald  concerning  Mb  visit: 

"Though  the  passing  winters  have  bleached  his  locks  into 
snowy  whiteness,  still  his  bow  abides  in  strength.  .  .  As  he 
has  grown  older  his  spirit  has  grown  mellower  in  grace  and  tia 
preaching  is  characterized  by  a  tenderness  and  pathos  that  is 
winsome  and  beautiful.  .  It  seems  to  have  been  a  joy  to  him 
to  cheer  the  obscure  lad  with  a  friendly  notice." 

He  delivered  a  memorial  address  on  Dr.  J,  W.  Carter,  who 
died  during  bis  meetings  at  Huntington,  and  in  the  address  he 
Bud  of  Dr.  Carter,  "He  went  to  Meep.at  night  and  next  mom- 
bgwoke  up  in  Heaven." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


538  APOSTOUC  SUCCESSION 

He  writes  me  two  days  before  Christmas: 

"Here  is  a  letter  from  dear  old  Bob  Wrnfree — ^aobiliasimus 
frater — ^be^^ng  with  hysteric  fondness  that  we  will  come  to  his 
bouse  next  EMday  and  go  out  on  Sunday  to  a  meeting  at 
Tomahawk  and  come  home  on  Monday.  There  is  enchantment 
in  the  invitation,  but  I  doubt  whether  we  can  accept  it.  I  am 
about  willing  however  to  leave  the  matter  to  you  and  if  you 
say  so  I  will  meet  you  Friday  in  Bichmond  and  we  will  try 
the  charmii^  adventure. 

"But  how  could  we?  Dear  me,  what  shall  we  do?  Do  what 
we  may  we  will  wish  we  had  done  the  other  and  yet  we  can  be 
happy  in  doing  either.    What  do  you  say?" 

"Monday  3  P.  M. 

"One  just  come." 

A  gentleman  bad  written  to  him  asking  him  for  bis  opinion 
on  two  subjects;  first,  the  date  when  "the  first  Baptist  church" 
was  organized,  and  second,  the  doctrine  of  "Apostolic  Suc- 
c^sion".  In  his  reply,  regarding  the  "first  Baptist  church" 
he  refers  him  to  the  early  accounts  of  the  Apostles,  and  adds 
that  the  "churches  spoken  of  in  the  New  Testament  are  the 
churches  after  which  our  Baptist  churches  are  modeled.  They 
have  the  same  ordinances,  the  same  terms  of  admission,  tbe 
same  independence  and  the  same  ^irit  of  brotherhood." 
Hoarding  "Apostolic  SuccesEdon"  he  writes: 

"Apostolic  Succesaon  is  the  rediculous  sand  upon  which 
some  people  undertake  to  build  what  they  call  a  Historical 
Church.  The  Apostles  had  no  successors  and  if  any  body  has 
an  Apostolic  church  it  must  be  the  Koman  Catholics  for  they 
are  the  oldest. 

"Those  who  know  more  about  church  history  than  I  do  claim 
that  there  have  been  churches  of  our  faith  and  order  straight 
through  from  the  time  of  the  Apostles.  I  think  that  there  is 
much  proof  in  favor  of  their  claim  but  I  do  not  build  on  that 
at  all.  If  you  were  one  great  sinner,  living  far  away  in  a  com- 
munity of  sinners — not  a  christian  anywhere  near — and  if 
you  should  get  hold  of  a  Bible  and  study  it  earnestly  and  faith- 
fully and  be  gloriously  converted  by  the  power  of  God  and  God 
should  call  you  to  preach  the  gospel  and  bless  you  with  con- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


APOSTOLIC  SUCCESSION  539 

vertJDg  power  and  multitudes  should  be  saved  and  you  should 
take  them  and  baptize  them  in  the  name  of  the  Trinity  and 
they,  after  accepting  the  Scripture  as  the  Word  of  God,  ehould 
set  up  a  church  after  the  order  of  a  New  Testament  church 
requiring  conversion  and  believers  baptism  and  organize  them- 
selves for  worship  and  work  it  would  really  be  a  Baptist  church 
and  just  like  the  churches  ouned  in  the  New  Testament." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTEE  XXXIX 
1908 

HEBTtNOS  AT  EITTAW  PLACE,  BALTIMORE;  FRANEUN  COLLEGE,  IND.; 

THEUONT  TEMPLE,  BOSTON,  AND  COLGATE  CNIVERSrrY,  N.  Y. 

CONVENTION  AT  HOT  SPRINGS.      VARIED  ACTinTIES. 

RAILROAD  ACaDENT.       "jOHN  JASPER." 

The  year  1908  was  destined  to  bring  Mm  some  rich  experiences 
and  was  one  of  the  most  memorable  years  of  his  life.  He  con- 
ducted a  very  successful  series  of  meetings  in  January  at  the 
Eutaw  Place  Church  and  we  had  the  joy  of  having  him  in  our 
home  durii^  the  time.  During  this  vidt  he  made  great  pro- 
gresB  on  the  Jasper  book. 

"Eldridge  and  myself  have  done  valorous  service  on  the 
immortal  John  [Jasper]"  he  writes  his  wife.  "Our  plan  is  to 
have  about  forty  thousand  words  in  sight." 

I  wrote  on  my  typewriter  at  his  dictation  and  the  words 
came  from  him  as  fast  as  I  could  write  them  and  they  went 
practically  unchanged  to  the  publisher. 

"It  depressed  me  to  break  the  charm  of  my  lovely  sojoum 
in  your  home,"  he  writes  me.  "I  cannot  recall  in  all  my  hfe 
happier  times  than  we  had  together." 

"Our  meeting  at  Troutville"  he  writes  on  January  30th 
"closed  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  .  .  had  a  happy  night  with 
Kate  and  got  to  Careby  yesterday  afternoon." 

The  First  Baptist  Church  of  Baltimore  invited  him  to  become 
supply  pastor  at  this  time  but  his  plans  for  the  future  made  him 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


REV.  R.  H.  WINFREE  541 

unable  to  accept  the  invitation.     From  Franklic  CoH^e, 
Indiana  where  he  went  to  hold  revival  meetings  he  writes: 

"I  am  idling  away  my  time  today  with  speaking  at  the  High 
School  and  afterwards  at  the  College  this  morning,  then 
going  to  the  country  for  dinner,  finishing  my  S.  S,  Notes  and 
am  engaged  to  go  out  for  supper  this  evening  and  have  the 
services  at  the  church  tonight." 

He  writes  to  Rev.  R.  H.  Winfree,  of  Midlothian  Chester- 
field County : 

"The  joys  of  my  visit  here  seem  to  come  from  the  very  river 
of  hfe. 

"But  no  worldly  joy  or  honor  could  ever  change  my  love  for 
you  and  yours  and  my  last  visit  to  your  house  was  loaded  with 
richest  pleasures.     It  makes  me  sad,  however,  when  I  leave 

rour  house  because  I  get  there  so  rarely  and  I  wonder  how  soon 
shall  make  my  last  leap  from  the  Midlothian  train. 
"I  hope  you  are  preaching  great  sermons — you  are  capable 
of  them  Mid  you  must  surprise  your  people  with  every  new 
homiletical  shot." 

"Thursday  morning.  Great  meeting  last  night.  You  ought 
to  have  seen  the  men  come  up". 

From  Parkersburg,  W,  Va.,  whither  he  went  from  Franklin, 
he  writes  to  Dr.  E.  B.  Bryan: 

"My  sodl's  friend, — I  count  it  as  one  of  God's  great  mercies 
that  he  has  allowed  me  to  know  you.  My  firste  taste  of  you  in 
November  quickened  the  courai^  of  my  blood  and  made  every 
thought  of  you  a  pleasure. 

"But  let  me  say  that  my  incomparable  experience  in  Frank- 
lin lately  put  everythii^  up  lugher.  My  heart  took  you  in 
without  examination  and  admitted  you  to  the  inner  court 
of  love  and  fellowship.  Now  I  find  that  every  thought  of  you 
is  an  inspiration  and  a  joy. 

"The  Lord  was  extravagant  in  his  bestowment  of  power  upon 
you  and  I  am  glad  to  see  that  he  requires  that  all  of  it 
shall  be  used  for  him.  I  rejoice  that  you  live  in  an  atmosphere 
of  sobriety,  that  the  Hght  of  Heaven  gleams  always  on  your 
pathway  and  that  the  future  is  yours  as  well  as  the  past. 

"This  is  purely  a  love  letter.    I  have  no  need  of  your  grind- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


642     LETTER  FROM  DR.  E.  B.  BRYAN 

stone,  and  have  money  enough  left  me  during  the  week  and  do 
not  want  to  be  recommend^  to  any  pofdtion,  unless  you  are 
wiUing  to  Btrai^e  the  'Fowls'  and,  with  their  blood  upon  you, 
are  willing  to  name  me  as  thdr  successor. 

"Give  a  world  of  love  to  Mrs.  Bryan  and  the  children.  Tell 
Julian  that  I  am  not  quite  sure  whether  he  would  suit  better 
for  the  new  Baptist  university  which  we  are  to  have  at  Pekin, 
or  whether  I  would  prefer  for  him  to  be  the  U.  S.  Attorney 
General  in  1928  when  he  will  be  strong  enough  to  show  hu 
Baptist  colors  seven  days  in  a  week  in  the  city  of  Washington. 
Say  to  Mrs.  Bryan  that  she  has  quite  an  interesting  proposition 
on  her  hands  to  get  three  children  fully  equipped  to  lead  the 
millennial  march  in  the  next  generation.  Tell  her  that  she  is 
due  in  Virginia  and  that  I  want  the  whole  Bryan  contingent 
to  breathe  Vriginia  air  and  get  into  their  blood  some  of  the 
020ue  which  made  Washington,  Munroe,  Lee  and  did  a  great 
deal  in  making  Kentucky  and  Indiana. 

"Yours  to  the  end  of  the  run." 

In  reply  Dr.  Bryan  wrote  as  follows  on  March  14: 

"Your  good  letter  came  while  I  was  away  lecturing  in  Mich- 
igan. I  have  read  it  over  and  over  again  and  every  time  I  read 
it  I  have  a  new  spoke  put  into  my  wheel.  If  you  can  reaJiee 
in  only  a  small  way  how  much  good  you  have  done  me  and 
what  a  blessii^  you  have  been  to  me  since  first  we  met,  you  will 
not  regret  any  time  that  you  have  spent  in  our  midst.  You 
have  rendered  a  lai^e  and  permanent  service  to  the  college 
and  I  am  sure  that  the  results  of  your  work  cannot  be  told  in 

time.    I  was  walking  with this  afternoon  and  acting 

upon  the  suggestion  carried  in  your  letter,  I  poimded  him  in  the 
small  of  the  back,  which  by-the-way,  was  all  over  his  back 
because  his  back  is  small  all  over.  I'll  tell  you,  he's  a  dear  good 
man  and  is  dging  great  things  for  us. 

"At  the  table  this  evening  Julian  aaid  that  there  were  twenty- 
one  boys  out  to  the  first  Base-ball  practice.  He  is  short  a 
pitcher  and  wondered  if  you  could  serve — ^he  said  he  did  not 
think  they  would  get  on  to  your  curves.  I  am  really  expecting 
large  things  of  the  boy  if  he  can  ever  find  time  to  stop  and  sit 
up  and  take  notice. 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  letters  from  you  from  time 
to  time.  Nothing  could  give  me  a  larger  boost  and  certiunly, 
when  I  go  flat,  as  I  suppose  most  men  do  at  times,  I  need  a 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TREMONT  TEMPLE  543 

tremendous  stimulus  to  bring  me  up.  Mrs.  Bryan  wishes  to  be 
remembered  most  kindly  to  you  and  expresses  the  hope  that 
we  may  have  you  in  our  home  many  times. 

"With  all  good  wishes  for  your  services  and  kindness  to  the 
College  and  to  me  personally  I  remain.  , 

"Yours  Affectionately 

"E.  B.  Bryan." 

"I  am  Bufferii^  much  in  my  back  and  other  thii^s"  he  writes 
his  wife  from  Parkersburg.  "I  am  wondering  whether  I  am 
not  near  the  pulling  oft  station." 

"What  a  record  you  are  makii^",  writes  Mr.  David  E. 
Johnson,  a  Parkersburg  attorney,  "and  keeping  it  up  at  the 
same  old  pace  now  when  you  may  be  seventy-five, — though 
as  young  as  when  I  first  saw  you  forty  years  ago.  Oh,  t£e 
physical  tihit^  may  be  aged  a  tittie,  but  that  is'nt  the  man.  You 
never  preached  better  in  your  life,  I  think.  .  .  I  want  to 
thank  you  especially  for  that  discotu'se  yesterday." 

But  already  two  important  revival  cfmipaigns  loom  on  his 
path, — the  first  to  be  held  at  Tremont  Temple,  Boston  and 
the  other  at  Hamilton,  New  York,  the  seat  of  Colgate  Univer- 
fflty.  The  pastor  of  Tremont  Temple — at  that  time  one  of 
the  most  prominent  churches  in  the  United  States, — ^was  Dr. 
P.  S.  Henson,  himself  about  seventy-four  years  old,  while  Dr. 
Hatcher  was  the  same  age.  Far  back  in  the  sixties-— during 
the  days  of  the  war — he  and  Dr.  Henson  had  been  yoked 
together  in  a  country  revival  meeting  at  old  fine  Creek  in 
Powhatan  County  and  it  looked  as  if  Dr.  Henson  could  never 
out-grow  the  memory  of  those  happy  days;  and  in  his  large  city 
pastorates  he  ever  seemed  to  banker  after  getting  Dr.  Hatcher 
to  come  and  hold  a  protracted  meeting  with  him.  I  remember 
meetii^  him  in  Chicago  once  and  he  said  to  me,  "Oh,  tell  your 
father  to  come  out  here  and  let  us  hold  an  old  fashioned  pro- 
tracted meeting  together."  His  wish  was  now  to  be  realized. 
He  had  already  written  Dr.  Hatcher  telling  him  of  the  extenmve 
preparations  that  were  being  made  for  the  meetii^  and  he 
then  adds: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


544  TREMONT  TEMPLE 

"Please  let  me  know  the  precise  time  of  your  expected  arrival, 
BO  that  we  may  meet  you  and  safe-guard  you  against  the  bunco 
ateerers  that  are  always  lying  in  wait  for  the  tender  foot." 

On  January  27th,  Dr.  Henson  writes  again: 

"My  Deah  Old  Boy, — The  assurance  of  your  coming 
to  us  has  given  great  delight  to  my  people  and  myself.  .  . 
Our  congregations  range  from  2,0(M  to  3,000  and  more  eager 
hearers  no  man  ever  had  than  one  finds  in  the  Temple.  It  is 
the  easiest  and  altogether  the  best  preaching  place  I  was  ever 
'in  and  if  a  man  can't  preach  there  he  can't  preach  anywhere, 
so  that  if  you  dont  have  the  time  of  your  life  then  I  shall  know 
that  you  are  N.  G. 

"Let  me  know  meanwhile,  and  at  an  early  date,  about  what 
time  you  may  be  expected  to  show  your  'head-light'  in  Boston 
that  we  may  have  the  round  house  ready. 

"With  much  love  and  great  hope. 
"Yours  Ever, 

"P.  S.  Henaon." 

He  looked  forward  with  heavy  anxieties  to  bis  Boston  meet- 
ings. They  began  on  April  2nd,  and  it  must  have  been  an 
interesting  sight  to  see  these  two  veterans  of  many  a  campaign 
linked  together  in  such  a  movement  in  such  a  city  and  in  such 
a  church.  Extensive  preparations  bad  been  made.  From 
Boston  he  writes  on  April  4th: 

"I  was  welcomed  by  blinding  snows  and  ocean  gales,  sleet 
and  slush.  Last  night  we  had  our  opening  service — largely 
attended  and  full  of  spiritual  power.  They  sang  old  revival 
hymns  and  I  almost  fancied  that  I  was  at  Bethlehem  in  Chester- 
field. I  am  surely  advertised  and  my  grim  picture  frowns  in 
windows  and  newspapers." 

"I  am  yet  in  the  grip  of  my  cold"  he  writes  "and  my  old 
voice  rattled  like  a  shuck  in  the  wind". 

Sunday  was  always  a  pivotal  day  with  him  in  his  meeting 
Cloncemii^  his  first  Sunday  in  Boston  be  writes: 

"This  is  Monday.  My  wretched  old  throat  has  played 
cruel  pranks  on  me  and  I  have  furly  filled  the  Back  B^ 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TREMONT  TEMPLE  545 

country  with  my  squeaks  and  Bhrieks  but  I  am  livir^  yet  and 
hope  you  are  wdl. 

"Things  opened  yesterday  with  majestic  auspiciousness. 
Crowd  big  in  the  morning  and  far  bi^er  at  night.  .  .  My 
dnhiess  yesterday  amounted  to  a  criMs  and  yet  the  indications 
were  fine. 

"Later:    Glorious  Monday  night  meeting," 

"At  noon  today"  he  writes  his  wife,  "I  am  to  preach  to 
Union  Conference  of  Boston  Ministers — about  five  or  ax 
■  hundred  of  them,  Henson  says, 

"Old  acquaintances  are  fioaling  up  on  the  tide  and  I  rejoice 
in  thran." 

He  writes  me  on  the  11th; 

"Our  meeting  is  too  good  to  despise  and  not  great  eaot^h 
to  satisfy.  .  .  !  am  perpetually  ashamed  of  myself  and  do 
nothii^  that  satisfies  me.  I  told  them  to  discharge  me  any 
morning  and  it  would  be  for  the  good  of  the  Cause.  But  their 
kindness  is  past  finding  out.  .  .  Some  of  the  deacons  are 
transportjngly  sympathetic.  They  come  in  their  carriages  to 
take  me  to  the  meetings,  give  me  beautiful  drives,  anticipate 
all  my  wants  and  treat  me  far  better  than  I  am  entitled  to 
on  the  score  of  my  merits. 

"I  was  out  at  Newton  [Seminary]  yesterday,  took  lunch  with 
the  boys  and  gave  them  a  talk.  They  were  very  demon- 
strative and  I  hope  that  some  of  the  shot  got  under  the  skin. 

"I  have  not  preached  well  here  and  have  felt  the  depresfflon 
of  it.  My  voice  grew  unmanf^eably  bad  and  1  have  occasional 
solitudes  under  the  juniper  tree. 

"1  am  much  of  my  time  alone  at  the  hotel,  too  much  I  think 
and  I  spend  too  much  in  feeling  ashamed  of  myself.  We  look 
for  greater  things  tomorrow  and  next  week. 

"I  am  tortured  with  great  desires  and  cheered  with  the  hopes 
of  yet  better  things." 

The  climax  came  at  last,  as  is  seen  from  his  card  written  on 
Sunday  afternoon: 

"Immortally  glorious  times  this  morning!  Dr.  Henson 
says  he  has  seen  nothing  Uke  it  before.  Many  conversions. 
Had  two  services — first,  the  sermon  and  then  in  Sunday  School. 
Great  crowds  and  grace  abounding." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


546  TREMONT  TEMPLE 

He  wrote  agfun: 

"It  was  grace  and  glory  combined  this  morning;  like  the 
break-up  of  an  ice  goi^e.    Many  converaona  and  great  crowds. 

"After  night  service 

"Terrible  fire  tonight  and  many  Temple  people  burned  out. 
But  large  crowd  and  great  interest.    It  has  been  a  blessed  day." 

The  meeting  moved  to  a  rich  concludon.  He  wrote  his 
wife  on  Wednesday,  "Friends  are  preparing  to  pve  me  a 
reception  at  noon.  They  are  wonderfully  fine  folks  and  I  am 
sure  that  it  will  be  of  the  royal  sort,  but  I  would  be  glad  to 
swap  it  for  a  handshake  with  a  good  game  of  quoits.  This  is 
written  just  as  I  am  waiting  for  carriage  to  take  me  to  church 
and  in  the  wildest  sort  of  haste." 

He  writes  in  the  Argus  the  following  breezy  sketch: 

"It  touched  me  in  a  peculiarly  senrative  point  when  Dr.  P.  S. 
Hanson  asked  me  to  come  to  Boston  and  help  him  in  a  revi- 
val.  You  see  he  and  I  roved  the  same  bridle  ways  of  Chester- 
field and  Powhatan  and  other  sections  of  Virginia  in  the  cal- 
low days  of — ^well,  how  long  do  you  reckon  it  was  ago?  For 
Benson's  sake  I  answer  not.  We  bad  worked  in  harness  on 
previous  occasions  and  though  posdbly  our  muades  are  not 
C]uitc  so  flexible  as  they  have  been,  I  felt  a  purely  human  desire 
to  feel  the  jerk  of  the  traces  again.  Inasmuch  as  my  ardent 
and  distinguished  friend,  Deacon  A.  T.  Eddy,  of  the  Temple 
church  backed  up  Henson,  and  said  it  was  the  thing  to  do, 
and  as  I  have  next  to  nothing  to  do  except  such  things  as  other 
people  tell  me  to  do,  I  defied  my  inertia  and  went. 

"When  I  stepped  out  of  the  trun  at  the  Boston  station,  I 
saw  the  scudding  snow,  the  gleaming  sleet  and  the  slush 
abounding,  and  just  about  then  I  swallowed  a  section  of  east 
wind  which  ripped  up  my  throat,  went  off  with  my  voice  and 
made  me  wonder  whether  it  was  ever  thus.  It  was  ever  thus 
for  three  straight  days  and  when  I  first  opened  my  mouth  on 
a  Boston  audience,  the  untraveled  part  of  it  wondered  if  all 
Southerners  were  croakers  of  the  same  sort. 

"But  some  things  in  Boston  are  hot —  jubilantly,  livingly  hot, 
one  of  which  is  a  Tiemont  Temple  welcome.    Of  course  Hen- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


COLGATE  UNIVEESITY  647 

son  did  his  part — he  had  to  whether  he  wished  it  or  not,  but 
here  and  now  and  before  the  unassembled  earth  I  gratefully 
testify  to  the  cordiality,  brotherliness  and  superb  "eflprit  de 
corps"  of  that  imperial  church.  They  were  good  to  lae  at  the 
start,  good  along  the  way  and  considerate,  affectionate  fuid 
ready  for  every  good  work  to  the  moment  of  ending. 

"The  meeting  commeaiced  on  April  the  5th  and  ran  until  the 
night  of  April  the  17th,  and  when  it  ceased  to  run,  I  had  to 
run  with  might  and  main  to  catch  a  train  for  Hamilton,  N.  Y., 
the  Beat  of  Colgate  University  where  I  am  to  have  the  joy  xm- 
tellable  of  preachii^  the  Gospel  to  the  great  assemblage  td 
youE^  people  in  that  town." 

With  the  echoes  of  his  Boston  experiences  gladdenii^  hie 
heart  be  hurries  away  to  Hamilton,  New  York,  where  he  is 
destined  to  have  one  of  the  most  powerful  meetings  of  his 
hfe.  At  Hamilton  was  Colgate  Univerraty,  which  included 
Co^te  Theolopcal  Seminary.  From  Dr.  Henson  came  the 
following  letter: 

"It  is  a  delight  to  be  in  touch  with  you,  whether  near  at 
hand,  or  far  away,  for  you  are  a  live  wire  with  all  the  thrill 
and  none  of  the  shock.  We  missed  you  mightily  when  you 
were  gone,  but  your  "remains"  are  still  with  us  and  there  is 
as  much  quickening  power  in  them  as  there  was  in  Elisha's 
bones.  Long  time  will  your  messages  wake  the  echoes  in  the 
Temple. 

"With  love  that  brightens  with  the  years,  in  which  the  little 
I  joins  and  wMch  includes  not  only  you  but  yours, 


Dr.  Hatcher  wrote  in  the  Herald  an  article  on  Dr.  Henson, 
that  was  dashed  off  in  his  sprightliest  style.  One  pari^praph 
of  it  reads  as  follows: 

"We  hate  to  say  that  Haison  is  popular.  It  is  a  hurtful  thing 
to  say  agfunst  a  respectable  man,  and  we  make  haste  to  ex- 
pWn  that  he  is  fortunate  enough  not  to  be  happy  with  eveiy- 
body.  To  his  credit,  be  it  said,  he  has  had  his  critics  by  the 
score  and  bis  detractors  by  the  several  scores.  Henson  is  a 
most  inconvenient  man  to  hate.  He  is  so  mercurial,  bouyant 
and  self-reliant  that  he  absolutely  forgets  his  enemies — the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


648  THE  JASPER  BOOK 

most  impitying  cruelty  which  can  be  mflicted  upon  a  gratui' 
tous  foe.  Many  have  sought  to  lure  Poindexter  Smith  to  the 
dissecting  room  with  a  view  to  an  operation,  but  ubiquitous 
as  he  is,  Benson  has  never  been  willii^  to  attend  the  cere- 
mony." 

In  the  meantime  the  day  for  the  pubhcation  of  his  Jasper 
book  is  approaching  and  he  is  kept  busy  readii^  proof. 

"Jasper  proof  blows  in  every  day"  he  writes  me  from  Ham- 
ilton, "and  I  am  well  advanced  on  it.  .  It  would  kill  me  to 
have  'De  Sun  do  move'  as  the  title  of  the  book.  It  would 
outrage  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  written,  play  on  Jasper's  weak 
point  and  be  an  unseemly  bid  for  trade." 

"As  to  the  title  let  us  try  these  and  decide: 

"  'Jasper,  the  Unmatched  Genius  of  his  Kace.' 
'John  Jasper,  the  Master  of  hU  Masters.* 
'John  Jasper,  the  Peerless  Son  of  Africa.' 
'John  Jasper,  the  Wizard  of  the  Platform.' 

"I  would  leave  off  the  'Rev.'  from  him  and,  for  myself,  I 
would  like  to  be  written  thus: 

'WiUiam  E.  Hatcher,  LL.  D.' 

"We  might  get  Henson  of  Tremont  Temple,  or  Mullins,  or 
Ex-Governor  Montague,  or  Dr.  Greene  of  Washington,  to 
write  an  introduction. 

"I  would  think  that  a  few  things  as  to  my  history  ought  to  go 
in — just  enough  to  put  me  in  my  proper  place  before  the  public. 
It  needs  to  be  only  a  few  sentences  in  the  introduction." 

Agun  on  the  same  date: 

"I  have  written  you  once  today  and  here  I  come  again.  I 
have  almost  decided  to  put  the  title  of  my  book  'John  Jasper*, 
the  Negro  Orator  of  Fluvanna'  and  get  Henson  to  write  the 
foreword  of  the  book.    What  do  you  think  of  it? 

"Tell  Anna  'Hello  Anna,'  grandfather  wants  to  see  her." 

Night  by  night  the  meetings  continued  at  Hamilton  until 
the  great  climax  came  on  Sunday  May  3rd.  That  must  indeed 
have  been  a  day  of  Pentecostal  glories. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


COLGATE  UNIVERSITY  549 

"We  bad  the  greatest  meeting  last  Sunday"  he  writes  "that 
I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  Over  a  hundred  conversions  during  the 
day,  probably  nine-tenths  of  whom  were  over  seventeen  years 
of  age." 

Even  to  this  day  they  are  talking  in  Hamilton  about  those 
wonderful  meetings  by  Dr.  Hatcher,  and  the  influence  of  them 
have  spread  far  and  wide.  Here  is  a  letter  from  a  young  gentle- 
man written  five  years  after  the  meetings,  and  showing  one 
of  his  methods  of  dealing  with  the  students  in  the  meetii^: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  longed  to  get  into  informal  touch  with  the 
students  so  he  whispered  to  one  or  two  of  the  college  men  that 
he  wished  he  might  dine  at  some  of  the  fraternities.  I  invited . 
that  old  gentleman  with  white  head  to  my  chapter  house  for 
dinner.  The  boys  wondered  at  such  an  act  but  their  wonder 
was  greater  and  different  when  he  began  to  joke  and  tell  stories 
and  soon  had  them  in  a  roar  of  laughter.  After  dinner  he  said, 
'Don't  you  fellows  sing?'  About  twenty-five  of  us  gathered 
around  the  piano  in  the  music  room  and  for  a  half  hour  gla^y 
entertfuned  him  with  college  and  fraternity  songs.  He  enjoy^ 
it  immensely.  Suddenly  he  arose  and  siud,  'Wdl,  boys,  I  must 
go.  Say,  you've  given  me  a  fine  time,  and  I  actually  feel 
indebted  to  you.  Now  I  want  to  do  something  to  reciprocate 
your  kindness.  I'm  holding  meetings  every  night  in  the  Baptist 
Church  down  here  and  I  just  want  you  to  come  down  and  I'U 
try  to  pve  you  fellows  as  good  a  time  aa  you've  given  me.  I'm 
preaching  Jesus  Christ  and  I'll  guarantee  you'll  have  a  good 
time  if  you  come.  Well  good-bye.'  The  boys  went.  They 
went  in  crowds  and  four  of  the  young  men  from  our  own 
fraternity  took  a  firm  stand  for  Jesus  Ctuist  and  the  Christian 
Efe." 

Dr.  Masters  writes  in  the  Herald  of  a  little  inddent  in  a 
R^lroad  Sleeper  while  he  was  enroute  for  Hot  Springs,  for  the 
meeting  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  in  May: 

"Then  from  across  the  aisle  in  berth  number  2.  came  a  call 
from  Dr.  Hatcher  for  the  porter's  assistance.  I  looked  and  the 
berth  on  which  the  Doctor  had  essayed  to  rest  bad  collapsed 
for  a  foot  in  the  middle,  and  he  besought  the  porter'to  yank 
it  up  and  prop  it  in  a  horizontal  position.    The  Doctor  declared 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


550  FOHK  UNION 

that  the  mattress  waa  more  than  a  foot  shorter  than  the  berth 
and  had  beea  pieced  out  by  stuffed-in  blankets.  The  upper 
section  of  the  upholstered  seat-back  hung  loose  above  his  head 
and  at  each  fresh  lurch  of  the  car  would  ^ock  against  his  bead. 
Next  morning,  when  I  asked  how  he  felt,  he  said  be  had  slept 
better  in  his  time  but  was  thankful  to  be  living." 

After  attending  the  Commencement  at  Fork  UnioD  he  dashed 
off  to  Cheater,  S.  C,  where  he  was  engaged  to  hold  revival 
meetings,  and  from  which  place  he  writes  me: 

"My  anxious  fli^t  back  to  Vir^nia  and  the  wear  and  tear 
of  Commencement  at  Fork  Union  did  me  up  quite  tragically. 

"I  landed  here  after  midnight  on  Saturday  night  feeling 
like  a  fugitive  from  injustice  and  unfit  for  anything.  I  almost 
imagine  that  people  here  suppose  that  they  have  sent  the  wreng 
man  and  are  wondering  what  became  of  the  man  who  promised 
to  hold  a  meeting  here. 

"Fork  Union  is  riding  me  hard.  We  have  no  Headmaster 
and,  with  the  Catalogue,  campaign  and  organization  of  Faculty 
and  bothers  of  farming  and  my  entangling  engagements,  I 
feel  that  this  is  a  hard  world  to  live  in. 

"If  you  are  so  hopelessly  bad  aa  not  to  be  able  to  give  your 
life  to  Fork  Union — as  I  expect  you  are — then  I  pray  you  to 
tell  me  where  to  find  a  man  .  .  .  Tell  William  that  he  and 
the  Lynchburg  kids  had  better  open  the  restaurant  at  Careby 
Hall  about  the  first  of  June." 

Colgate  University  sent  him  a  (^ft, — a  new  title  for  his  name 
as  is  seen  from  the  following  letter: 

"COLQATB  UNivBasrrT, 
"Hamilton,  N.  Y. 

"Bev.  Wn-LUK  E.  Hatcher,  D.  D.,  LL.  D., 

"Fork  Union,  Virqinia: 

"Mt  Dear  De.  Hatchee, — ^It  is  the  deare  of  the  trustees 
and  faculty  of  Colgate  University  to  ctmfer  upon  you  at  the 
next  Commencement  the  honorary  degree  of  Doctor  of  Humane 
Letters.  I  trust  that  it  may  be  agreeable  to  you  to  rec«ve 
the  degree-«id  shall  be  gratified  to  receive  notice  to  that  effect. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


IN  THE  NORTHERN  NECK  6S1 

It  would  be  very  pleaaaat  to  us  if  you  could  be  preaent  on 
Commencement  Day,  June  twenty-fifth  to  receive  this  degree 
in  person. 

"Sincerely  Yours, 

"H,  N.  Cranshaw, 
"Actii^  President." 

He  picked  his  way  over  into  the  Northern  Neck  of  Virginia 
for  a  church  dedication  on  the  first  Sunday  in  June.  Among 
the  viators  present  was  Dr.  V.  I.  Masters  who  thus  writes: 

"We  shall  never  forget  him  as  we  saw  him  one  Sunday  night 
in  early  Summer  in  1908  at  the  dedication  of  a  Httle  church 
made  up  largely  of  fiaher  folk,  away  over  on  the  Northern 
Neck  of  Vir^nia  on  the  shores  of  the  Chesapeake.  Coming 
unexpectedly  into  the  thronged  room  with  a  ministerial  friend, 
we  found  him  sitting  in  the  pulpit  while  the  people  gathered. 
Joy  beamed  from  his  fine  attractive  face  and  he  was  evidently 
happy.  He  espied  us,  and  with  a  certain  gladsQme  humor,  that 
he  indulged  without  ever  sacrificing  the  essence  of  decorum, 
he  marshaled  us  into  the  pulpit  stand,  which  was  already 
overflowing  with  flowers  and  preachers  and  proceeded  with 
the  service.  This  included  a  great  sermon  by  Dr.  Hatcher  on 
Zaccbeus,  which  was  in  its  simplicity  in  perfect  accord  with 
the  modes  of  thought  of  his  hearers. 

"To  us  that  night  in  a  httle  country  church  on  the  shores 
of  the  Chesapeake,  remote  from  centers  where  men  do  much 
foregather  and  pass  to  and  fro.  Dr.  Hatcher  seemed  as  a  loving 
father  whose  children  were  all  members  of  the  household 
of  faith,  or  as  a  king  who  dignified  the  plain,  diminutive  plat- 
form into  a  throne  by  the  sheer  strength  and  worth  of  his 
personality." 

Lynchburg  was  one  of  his  frequent  stopping  places  because 
it  was  there  that  his  daughter  Kate  and  two  grandchildren, 
Virginia  and  Katherine  lived,  and  in  thar  home  he  found 
happy  companionship  and  rest. 

"I  envy  you  the  joy  of  bang  at  Kate's"  he  wrote  his  wife 
a  few  weeks  earlier  in  the  Summer.  "That  is  my  delight — 
nothing  on  the  earth  more  cheeiing  and  restful  than  Kate's 
ever  cheering  kindness." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


552  BLTJEFIELD 

From  Lynchburg  he  writes  me  on  June  19th  coucenung  Iiis 
sister: 

"I  have  been  to  Bedford  to  bury  aunt  Mai^aret.  It  was 
a  great  occa^on.  Honors  thick  and  rich  attended  her.  It 
puUed  me  quite  sharply  to  realize  that  only  I,  of  all  who  once 
sat  at  my  father's  table,  still  survive.  And  yet,  I  cannot  think 
of  death  without  an  abounding  sense  of  cheerfulness  and- 
triumph. 

"Now  an  item  of  bumness: 

"We  had  a  chapter  on  the  Death  and  Funeral  of  Jasper  but 
in  some  way  that  got  left  out.  Mr.  Revell  writes  me  that  they 
never  received  it.  It  is  barely  possible  that  it  is  mixed  in  the 
whirlwind  of  your  glorious  confusion.  If  it  is'nt  then  Jasper 
will  have  to  go  to  his  crown  without  a  funeral,  though  I  know 
he  had  one,  because  I  helped  to  preach  it.  I  leave  this  after- 
noon  for  Bluefield." 

Bluefield  was  a  bustling  city  in  the  mountcunous  south- 
western section  of  the  state  but  it  had  a  yoimg  pastor  of  whom 
he  was  greatly  fond, — Rev.  Harry  W.  Mabie- 

In  writii^  from  Bluefield  about  his  letter  to  Mr.  F.  H. 
^vell,  the  New  York  publisher  of  his  Jasper  book,  he  said 
among  other  things: 

I  told  him  also  that  those  whom  I  had  consulted  thought 
that  some  of  my  titles  ought  to  accompany  my  name.  I  told 
him  that  be  cotdd  put  LL.  D.  or  L.  H.  D.  or  both,  or  neither, 
BO  far  as  Brer  Hatcher  cares  about  it." 

Rev.  A.  W.  Bealer  writes  him  a  cheeiing  letter: 

"I  have  just  read  an  article  of  yours  in  the  Herald  and  I 
remarked  to  my  wife  that  nobody  could  tell  a  tlang  with  as 
much  ori^eJity  as  could  William  E.  Hatcher  and  t^t  it  was 
aa  refresMng  to  the  mind  as  a  sea  breese  is  on  a  Summer  day. 
I  pray  that  the  Lord  will  spare  you  long  to  bless  us  with  your 
loving  presence. 

"Wont  you  send  me  one  of  your  photographs?  .  .  I  want 
my  boys  to  look  upon  the  face  of  Wilham  E.  Hatcher  and  per^ 
haps  in  the  years  that  are  to  come  something  of  his  spirit, 
if  not  of  his  mantle  may  fall  upon  them." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


VISITING  THE  ASSOCIATION  653 

One  of  the  chapters  of  his  Jasper  book, — the  one  telling 
of  Jasper's  converaon — ^had  been  already  published  in  a  booklet 
and  Dr.  Weston,  President  of  Crozer  Seminary,  thus  writes 
to  him; 

"Deab  Dr.  Hatcher, — ^I  have  just  read, — for  the  I  do  not 
know  how  manyeth  time, — ^your  touching  account  of  the  eon- 
version  of  Jasper.  My  tears  flowed  fast,  as  they  always  do 
when  I  read  the  story," 

He  then  added  that  he  wanted  twenty  copies  to  be  distributed 
amoi^  ministerial  friends. 

From  far  away  Seattle,  in  Washington  state,  came  a  letter 
from  Dr.  L.  B.  Whitman,  pastor  of  the  First  Church  of  that 
city,  and  a  former  pre^dent  of  Columbian  Univeraty: 

"The  news  of  yom-  resignation  as  president  of  the  Board 
of  Trustees  of  lUchmond  College  loosens  a  flood  of  tender 
memories  in  my  life.  I  wonder  if  you  have  any  idea  how  strong 
and  beautiful  and  helpful  your  life  is.  We  are  all  your  debtors 
forever,"       * 

"The  Associations  are  to  open  soon"  he  writes  on  July  6th 
"and  as  I  have  no  one  on  earth  to  help  me  about  the  patronage 
of  the  Academy  I  will  have  to  travel  day  and  night." 

"Think  of  it!  Seventy  five  years  old  and  yet  scudding  through 
the  state,  in  sweltering  weather  and  on  all  sorts  of  trains  and 
conveyances,  from  Association  to  Association,  sounding  the 
Fork  Union  trumpet  and  seekii^  to  corral  boys  for  his  beloved 
school. 

"I  find  myself  so  utterly  fa^ed  out"  he  writes  his  mfe  on 
Aug.  6th  "that  I  have  decided  to  come  to  Fork  Union  Monday 
and  rest.  Say  nothii^  about  this  but  quietly  send  tor  me.  I'll 
come  up  from  lUchmond  on  the  morning  trfun  and  lay  up  for 
repura.  Tell  Mercer  [stenographer]  that  I  will  need  him  at 
2:30  P.  M." 

He  was  to  "lay  up  for  repairs"  on  that  day  and  at  2:30  he 
wanted  his  stenographer.  It  was  generally  thus  that  his  plans 
for  rest  worked  out. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


554  AHFONG 

He  carried  at  this  time  the  entire  respooalcHlitieB  of  the 
Acad^ny  and  the  load  wae  heavy.  As  aa  example  of  his 
bothers  was  the  followiI^;:  A  gentl^nan  who  had  a  boy  at 
the  academy  had  become  very  delinquent  in  the  matter  of 
paying  for  his  boy  and  he  had  written  this  gentleman  a  strong 
letter  urging  a  remittance.  He  replied  to  the  request  in  an  al- 
most insulting  tone  and  Dr.  Hatcher  wrote  him  a  kind  but  firm 
letter  in  reply  closing  as  follows : 

"I  treat  you  as  a  gentlemui  and  a  brother  and  there  is  no 
need  for  you  to  deal  roughly  with  me.  At  any  rate  I  think 
if  you  were  goii^  to  abuse  me,  you  ought  to  pay  the  bill  first 
and  then  turn  yourself  loose  on  me  if  you  must.' 

He  supplied  one  Sunday  at  Eutaw  Place  during  the  Summer 
and  in  writing  me  how  they  treated  him  he  said,  "They  ovated 
me  to  the  spoiling  point." 

His  Chinese  boy  "Ah  Fong"  spoke  at  both  services  on  Sunday 
at  the  First  Baptist  Church  in  Richmond  and  Dr.  George  W. 
McDaniel,  the  pastor  of  the  church  and  one  of  Dr.  Hatcher's 
greatly  beloved  friends,  thus  writes  Mrs.  Hatcher: 

"It  would  have  overjoyed  you,  as  it  delighted  me,  to  hear 
Ah  Foi^  last  night.  They  say  he  <id  even  better  in  the  morning. 
He  spoke  clearly  and  interestingly  and  the  great  congregation 
hung  ef^rly  upon  his  words.  The  cash  collection  for  him 
amount^  to  $52.62  and  he  embarrassed  us  by  his  gratitude. 
To  know  how  he  pleased  our  people  will  doubtless  be  some 
compensation  to  you  and  Dr.  Hatcher  for  the  efforts  and 
sacrifices  which  you  have  made  in  his  behalf.  To  have  trained 
such  a  young  man  is  an  invaluable  contribution  to  Christian 
civihzation.    Kcmembcr  me  affectionately  to  all  your  family." 

In  spealdng  one  day  before  the  Shiloh  Association  Dr. 
Hatcher  said: 

"I  have  found  life  beautiful  and  joyous.  There  is  much  that 
is  good  in  this  life.  Still  there  are  many  reasons  why  I  should 
not  care  to  stay  on  here  always  .  But  there  is  one  reason — 
only  one  why  I  should  fike  to  live  on  a  good  while  longer. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


m  A  RAILROAD  WRECK  555 

The  outlook  for.the  Baptists  is  so  bright,  the  possibilities  eaaily 
-within  their  reach  so  great  I  should  liib#to  live  a  good  while 
longer  just  to  see  what  the  Baptists  will  accomplish.  And  who 
knows  but  that  up  yonder  I  shall  walk  out  on  the  battlements 
of  heaven  and  look  down  upon  my  brethren  and  rejoice  with 
them  in  th^  achievements." 

He  was  in  a  Berious  railroad  accident  while  traveling  from 
Newport  News  to  Kichmond.  He  had  with  him  a  lad  whom  he 
was  takii^  to  the  Academy  for  the  Preparatory  Department. 
His  vivid  *  account  of  the  wreck  furnishes  interesting  reading 
and  shows  that  his  good  sense  and  self-control  did  not  desert 
him  even  in  the  hour  of  i^saster: 

"There  was  no  warning  of  what  was  to  be.  It  came  in  a 
second.  A  noise — such  a  clashing,  roaring,  confusing,  grating, 
crashing  noise  it  was — ^jarred  the  heavens,  put  the  earth  to 
shaking  and  spoke  terror  to  the  neighborhood.  An  old  farmer 
was  quietly  feeding  his  horee  in  his  stable  off  on  his  plantation 
and  he  was  hit  by  that  indescribable  fury  of  hostile  sounds 
and  came  flying  like  a  hunted  maniac  to  the  scene.  He  said 
that  be  knew  at  once  that  it  told  of  destruction  and  sorrow 
which  called  for  help  and  he  was  there  to  do  his  part.  As  for 
myself, — Nil.  I  heard  it,  felt  the  shiver  of  it,— felt  it  as  it 
swept  every  nerve  and  tissue  of  my  being— felt  its  sting  m  the 
center  of  Ufe  and  went  sore  from  it  for  days — felt  its  jar  worse 
than  the  harrowing  terrors  of  the  earthquake. 

"First  the  splitting,  deadly  roar.  Then  the  jerk  of  the  train 
and  the  leap  of  the  front  end  of  my  car  from  the  track  and  its 
breaking  crash  into  the  car  ahead. 

"Then  1  knew  what  it  was.  So  far  as  I  recall  there  was  no 
sense  of  fear  but  quick  dread  of  manghng  and  wounds.  But 
I  knew  no  thought  of  escape;  my  life  was  bound  up  with  the 
trun.  Where  it  went  I  must  go;  what  befel  it,  was  coming  to  me. 
The  passengers  bolted  to  the  front  to  get  out.  I  was  swept  on 
to  the  front  by  the  rush,  but  the  car  was  jammed  into  the  other 
car  and  egress  was  shut  off.  I  cared  not,  for  in  flight  I  saw  no 
safety.  My  part  was  to  w^t.  I  peeped  out  of  the  window  and 
1  saw  that  we  were  on  an  embankment  and  had  stopped. 

"Meanwhile  my  little  Norfolk  "Prep"  was  brightening  and 
blossoming  into  a  hero.  At  the  first  clai^  of  the  shock  he 
neatly  inverted  and  landed  on  his  head  but  he  righted  up  iu- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


656  SALUDA,  S.  C. 

stantly  and  mth  rare  self-forgetfulness  though  he  had  just 
come  into  my  hands  that  morning,  he  seemed  concerned  only 
for  me.  He  ran  to  the  front  to  see  if  he  could  find  a  way  for  me 
to  escape  and,  filing  in  that,  be  rushed  to  the  rear  to  see  what 
could  be  done  in  that  direction  and,  unmindful  of  his  own  peril, 
dashed  back  and  seizing  my  hand  pressed  me  to  come  out. 
There  was  a  touch  of  old  time  heroism  in  the  lad's  conduct 
which  attracted  admiring  attention.  As  a  fact  I  was  not  hurt 
except  by  the  sickening  jar  at  the  first. 

"The  ei^neer  was  a  martyr.  He  cut  loose  the  train  and 
went  down  with  the  engine  to  death.  He  only  lost  his  life  and 
all  the  passei^rs  who  suffered  met  their  fate  in  needless  efforts." 

Regardii^  the  above  racking  experience  he  writes: 

"As  I  had  been  whirling  up  and  down  the  earth  for  more  than 
a  half  century  on  roads  of  various  gauges  and  grades  and  in  ever 
so  many  countries  and  had  never  bad  a  serious  shake-up,  I 
would  think  it  out  of  all  grace  and  taste  to  raise  a  resentful 
complaint.  We  must  take  our  good  mixed  with  evil  and  on 
that  point  I  bow  the  meek  head." 

He  went  in  September  to  Siduda  in  S.  C.  and  on  his  way  had 
his  valise  stolen  and  be  writes;  "With  it  went  nearly  all  my 
faded  finery.  But  we  need  not  mourn  departed  clothes.  I  am 
delightfully  situated  and  am  determined  to  be  lazy  even  if 
I  have  to  work  to  get  the  privil^e."  To  his  friend  Rev.  R,  H. 
Winfree  he  writes: 

"My  increasmg  age  makes  me  more  depend^it  and  my  soul 
cries  out  for  you.  I  must  stick  to  you  and  you  to  me  until 
my  call  comes.  Your  success  as  a  pastor  is  my  joy,  and  I  am 
somewhat  impressed  with  the  thought  that  you  are  to  live  and 
die  in  Chesterfield,  but  God  must  settle  that." 

It  was  at  this  time  that  his  book  "John  Jasper"  made  its 
appearance  before  the  pubUc.  Its  reception  in  many  cases  was 
enthusiastic.  The  Washington  Post  in  a  lengthy  editorial 
upon  it  sMd: 

"It  has  remained  for  the  kindly  hand  of  Dr.  Hatcher,  Vir- 
ginia's veteran  Baptist  divine,  to  present  to  posterity  a  fragment 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


JOHN  JASPER  557 

of  one  of  the  purest  specimens  of  genius  that  ever  came  out  of 
the  institution  of  slavery." 

The  book  preserves  a  chapter  out  of  southern  Ufe  that  is 
rapidly  pas^g  away.  Jasper  was  a  negro  preacher  of  Eich- 
moud,  Va.,  was  not  only  the  author  of  the  sermon  "De  Sun  do 
move"  but  the  idinisterial  sensation  of  the  city,  a  man  of 
remarkable  personality  and  above  all  a  preacher  of  overmaster- 
ing eloquence.  Dr.  Hatcher  tells  in  the  beginning  of  the  book 
how  he  came  to  "be  mixed  up  with  Jasper": 

"The  writer  of  this  book  heard  that  there  was  a  marvel  of  a 
man  'over  in  Africa', — a  not  too  savory  portion  of  Richmond 
Vit^nia — and  one  Sunday  afternoon  in  company  with  a  Scotch- 
Iii^iman,  who  was  a  scholar  and  critic  with  a  strong  leaning 
towards  ridicule,  he  went  to  hear  him  preach.  Shades  of  our 
Anglo-Saxon  faUiers  1  Did  mortal  lips  ever  gush  with  such 
torrents  of  horrible  English!  Hardly  a  word  came  out  clothed 
and  in  its  right  mind.  And  gestures!  He  circled  around  the 
pulpit  with  his  ankle  in  his  hand,  and  laughed  and  eang  and 
shouted  and  acted  about  a  dozen  characters  within  the  space 
of  three  minutes. 

"Meanwhile,  in  spite  of  these  things,  he  was  pouring  out  a 
gospel  sermon,  red-hot,  full  of  love,  full  of  invective,  full  of 
tenderness,  full  of  bitterness,  full  of  tears,  full  of  every  pasedon 
that  ever  flamed  in  the  human  breast. 

"He  was  a  theatre  in  himself  with  the  stage  crowded  with 
actors.  He  was  a  battle  field; — himself  the  general,  the  staff, 
the  officers,  the  common  soldiery,  the  thundering  artillery  and 
the  ratthng  musketry.  He  was  the  preacher;  likewise  the 
church  and  the  choir  and  the  deacons  and  the  congregation." 

He  then  tells  how  he  went  again  to  hear  him  and  "kept  goii^, 
oft  and  on  for  about  twenty  years." 

"Whrai  this  man  died"  he  writes  "it  was  as  the  fall  of  a  tower. 
It  was  a  crash,  heard  and  felt  farther  than  was  the  collapse 
of  the  famous  tower  of  Venice," 

Another  such  character  as  Jasper  will  hardly  ever  appear 
again.    This  book  however  has  embalmed  the  spirit  and  elo- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


568  JOHN  JASPER 

quence  of  t^  Africaa  prodigy  for  future  geaeratioiis  to  enjoy. 
The  New  York  Times  in  an  article,  of  more  than  a  column  in 
length,  Baid  that  Joel  Chandler  Eanis  and  Thomas  Nelson 
Page  had  made  the  old  plantation  darkey,  with  his  dialect 
and  quaint  humor,  a  familiar  figure  and  that  their  writings 
were  destined  to  inmiortality,  but  that  John  Jaq)er  was  more 
than  a  plantation  darkey  with  his  fiddle  or  hia  hoe;  he  was  a 
preacher  of  transcendent  doquence  and  a  personality  that 
inspired  wonder  and  for  such  a  character, — with  his  pulpit 
dialect, — to  be  enshiined  in  hterature  was  an  event  of  sur- 
paesing  interest. 

"In  Dr.  Hatcher's  sketch  of  John  Jasper"  says  the  Times 
one  has  a  glimpse  of  an  actual  character  than  which  there  are 
few  more  deliciously  humorous,  more  naively  primitive,  more 
original  in  the  pages  of  fiction.  Jasper  was  one  of  the  most 
unique  preachers — black  or  white — who  ever  filled  a  pulpit 
or  swayed  with  his  doquence,  acrobatic  quite  as  often  as  vocal, 
the  throngs  that  came  to  hear  him." 

"As  one  reads  the  book"  eaye  the  Central  Baptist  "he  can 
hardly  refrain  from  the  feeling  that  the  author  is  in^ired." 

But  let  us  open  the  book  and  note  some  of  its  features.  Near 
the  beginning  it  tells  of  Jasper's  remarkable  convendon  and 
call  to  the  ministry.  "I  was  seekin'  God  six  long  weeks"  says 
Jasper — "jes"  'cause  I  was  ach  a  fool  I  couldn't  see  de  way". 
The  author  then  relates  how  Jasper,  who  was  a  "stemmer"  in 
Mr.  Samuel  Hargrove's  tobacco  factory,  was  converted  one 
morning  while  at  work  in  the  factory.  "Fore  I  kno'd  it  de  light 
broke;  I  was  Hght  as  a  feather;  my  feet  was  on  de  mount'n; 
salvation  rol'd  like  a  fiood  thru  my  soul  an'  I  felt  as  if  I  oould 
'nock  off  de  faot'ry  roof  wid  my  shouts." 

But  Jasper  knew  that  he  must  create  no  disturbance  in  the 
factory  and  so  he  «mply  slipped  up  to  one  or  two  of  the  other 
darkies  and  whispered,  "Hallelujah,  my  soul  is  redeemed". 
"But  jes  dea"  says  Jasper  "de  holin  back  straps  of  Jasper's 
breachin  broke  and  what  I  thought  would  be  a  whisper  was 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


JOHN  JASPER  559 

loud  enuf  to  be  beam  dean  'cross  JeemB  River  to  Manchester." 
The  result  was  that  the  overseer  in  the  factory  hearing  the 
uproar  in  the  room  entered  in  indignant  rage  and  in  a  very 
short  while  Jasper  was  ordered  to  report  to  Mr.  Hai^rove's 
office.  He  was  a  warm  hearted  christian  man  and  soon  John 
came  in  and  was  asked  concerning  "the  noise  in  the  stemming 
room."  Jasper  thus  tells  of  his  visit  that  day  to  Mr.  Har- 
grove's office:     He  s^d  to  his  employer: 

"  'Mars  Sam  ever  sence  de  fourth  of  July  I  ben  cryin'  after 
de  Lord,  six  long  weeks,  an'  jes'  now  out  oar  at  de  toble  God 
tuk  my  ans  away  an'  set  my  feet  on  a  rock.  I  didn't  mean  to 
make  no  noise,  Mars  Sam,  but  'fore  I  know'd  it  de  fires  broke 
out  in  my  soul  an'  I  jes'  let  go  one  shout  to  de  glory  of  my 
Savior. 

"Mara  Sam  was  settin'  wid  his  eyes  a  little  down  to  de  flo', 
an'  wid  a  pritty  quiv'r  in  his  voice  he  say  very  slo';— 'John, 
I  b'leve  dat  way  myself.  I  luv  de  Savior  dat  you  have  jea'  foun' 
an'  I  wan'  to  tell  you  dat  I  do'n  complain  'cause  you  made  de 
noise  jes'  now  as  you  did,' 

"Den  Mars  Sam  did  er  thii^  dat  nearly  made  me  drop  to  de 
flo'.  He  git  out  of  his  chair  an'  walk  over  to  me  an'  giv'  me 
his  ban'  an'  he  say:  'John  I  wish  you  mighty  well.  Your 
Savior  is  mine  an'  we  are  bruthers  in  de  Lord.'  When  he  say 
dat,  I  turn  'roun  an'  put  my  arm  agin  de  wall  an'  held  me  mouf 
to  keep  from  shoutin'.  Mars  Sam  will  nev'r  kno  de  good  he  dun 
me. 

"Arter  awhile  he  say:  'John,  did  you  tell  eny  of  'em  dar 
'bout  your  conversion?  and  I  say:  'Yes,  Mars  Sam,  I  tell  'em 
fore  I  kno'd  it,  an'  I  feel  like  tellin'  eberybody  in  de  worl' 
bout  it.' 

"Den  he  say:  'John,  you  may  tell  it.  Go  back  in  dar  an' 
go  up  an'  down  de  tables,  an'  tell  all  of  'em.  An'  den  if  you 
w^i'  to  go  up  stairs  an'  tell  de  hogshead  men  an'  de  drivers  an' 
eberybody  what  de  Lord  has  dun  for  you." 

"By  dis  time  Mars-Gam's  face  was  rainin'  tears  an'  he  say: 
'John  you  needn'  work  no  mo'  today.  I  pv  you  holiday.  Aft'r 
you  git  thru  tellin'  it  here  at  de  fact'ry  go  up  to  de  hous^  an' 
tell  your  folks;  go  roun'  to  your  neighbors  an'  tell  dem;  go 
enywhere  you  wan'  to  an'  tell  de  good  news.  It'll  do  you  good, 
do  dem  good  an'  help  to  honor  your  Lord  an'  Savior." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


560  JOHN  JASPER 

"Oh,  dat  happy  day!  Can  I  ever  forgit  it?  Dat  waa  my 
conversion  niomin'  aa'  dat  day  de  Lord  sent  me  out  wid  de 
good  news  of  de  kingdom.  For  mo'  den  forty  years  I've  ben 
teUin'  de  story.  My  step  is  gittin'  rather  slo',  my  voice  breaks 
down  an'  sometimes  I  am  awful  tired,  but  still  I'm  tellio'  it. 
My  lips  shall  proclaim  de  dyin'  luv  of  de  Lam'  wid  my  las' 
expirin  breath. 

"Ah,  my  dear  oP  marster.  He  sleeps  out  yonder  in  de  ol' 
cemetery  an'  in  dis  worl'  I  shall  see  his  face  no  mo'  but  I  don't 
forgit  him.  He  give  me  a  holiday  an'  sent  me  out  to  tell  my 
friends  what  gret  things  God.  had  dun  for  my  soul.  Oft'n  as 
I  preach  I  feel  dat  I'm  doin'  what  my  ol'  marater  tol'  me  to  do." 

One  of  the  chapters  in  the  book  is  entitled  "Jasper's  Star 
Witness".  Her  name  was  Vir^nia  Adams  one  of  his  members, 
who  had  many  interesting  things  to  tell  about  her  old  pastor. 
She  said: 

"No,  Brer  Jasper  wuz  no  money'^p^bber.  When  de  church 
wuz  weak  an'  cudn't  raze  much  money,  he  never  sot  no  salary. 
Yer  cudn't  git  him  ter  do  it.  He  tell  'em  not  ter  trubble  'em- 
selves  but  jes'  giv  him  wat  dey  chuze  ter  put  in  de  baskit  and 
he  nevur  loade  no  complaint.  Wen  de  church  got  richer  dey 
crowd  him  hard  ter  kno'  how  much  he  wantid  and  he  at  las' 
tell  'em  dat  he  wud  take  S62..50  a  month  and  dat  he  didn't 
want  no  more  dan  dat.  Wen  de  gret  crowds  got  ter  kummin 
and  de  white  folks  too,  and  de  money  po'ed  in  so  fas'  de  bruth- 
erin,  farly  quarl'd  wid  him  ter  git  hia  sal'ry  raz'd  but  he  say 
'No.  I  git  nuff  now,  and  I  want  no  more.  I'm  not  here  to  gouge 
my  people  out  of  es  much  money  es  I  kin.'  He  say  he  got  nuff 
money  to  pay  his  taxes  and  buy  wat  he  needed  and  if  dey  got 
more  dan  dey  wantid  let  'em  take  it  and  help  de  Lord's 
pore." 

One  of  his  most  eloquent  outbursts  was  hia  sermon  on 
Heaven.  The  sermon  did  not  have  Heaven  aa  its  theme;  it 
was  a  funeral  discourse  on  William  EUyson  and  Mary  Barnes. 
He  first  informed  the  congregation  that  "Wilyum  EUersin" 
did  not  live  right  and  that  he  was  not  going  to  he  about  it. 
"Ef  you  wants  folks  who  live  wrong  ter  be  preached  and  sung 
to  glory  w'en  dey  die"  said  he  "don'  bring  'em  to  Jasper." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


JOHN  JASPEE  661 

"But  my  bnithrin"  he  stud  in  happy  tone  "Mary  Bamea 
WU8  diffnint." 

Thus  Jaaper  began  with  the  departed  sister  and,  as  be  pro- 
ceeded, his  heart  took  fire  and  he  carried  his  hearers  up  to 
Heaven  and  began  a  circuit  of  the  celesUal  city  to  look  upon 
its  beauties, 

"Fust  of  all  I'd  go  down  an  see  de  river  of  life.  I  lov'a  to 
go  down  to  de  ole  muddy  Jeemes — mighty  red  an'  muddy,  but 
it  goes  'long  so  gran'  an'  quiet,  like  'twaa  'tendin'  to  buMness — 
but  dat  ain't  nothin'  to  de  river  which  flows  by  de  throne. 
I  longs  fer  itfi  crystal  waves,  an'  de  trees  on  de  banks  an'  de 
all-mann'rs  of  fruits.  Dis  old  bead  of  mine  oft'n  gits  hot 
with  fever,  aches  all  night  an'  rolls  on  de  piller,  an'  I  has  many 
times  desired  to  cool  it  in  that  blessed  stream  as  it  kisses  de 
banks  of  dat  upper  Canaan.  Blessed  be  de  Lord.  De  thought 
of  aeein'  dat  river,  drinldn'  its  water  an'  restin'  und'r  dose  trees — 
"Then  suddenly"  says  Dr.  Hatcher  "Jasper  began  to  intone 
a  chorus  in  a  most  Meeting  way  no  part  of  which  I  can  recall 
except  the  last  line;  "Ob  what  mus'  it  be  to  be  thar." 

Jasper  then  starta  out  to  view  the  city's  streets  and  maomons 
and  soon  to  hia  overmasterii^  delight  he  discovers  his  own 
manaoD.  He  next  "moved  off  to  see  the  angeUc  host"  on  the 
"white  plEuns  of  the  heavenly  Canaan." 

The  chapter  thus  continues: 

"  'An'  now  frenz'  he  said  still  pantins  and  seeking  to  be  calm 
'ef  yer'll  'sense  me,  I'll  take  er  trip  to  de  throne  an'  see  de  King 
in  'is  roya'l  garmints'.  It  was  an  event  to  study  him  at  this 
point.  Hia  earnestness  and  reverence  passed  all  speech  and 
grew  as  he  went.  The  light  from  the  throne  dazzled  him  from 
afar.  There  was  the  great  white  throne — -there  the  eldera 
bowii^  in  adoring  wonder — ^the  archangels  w^ting  in  silence 
for  the  commands  of  the  Kjng — ^there,  in  hosts  innumerable, 
were  the  ransomed.  In  point  of  vivid  description  it  surpassed 
all  I  had  heard  or  read.  By  this  time  the  old  negro  orator 
seemed  glorified. 

"Earth  could  hardly  hold  him.  He  sprai^  about  the  plat- 
form with  a  boy's  alertness;  he  was  unconsciously  waving  his 
baDdkercbief  as  if  greeting  a  conqueror;  his  face  was  streaming 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


S62  JOHN  JASPER 

witii  tears;  he  was  bowing  before  the  Redeemer;  he  weis  clapping 
his  hands,  laughing,  shouting  and  wiping  the  blinding  tears 
out  of  his  eyes.  It  was  a  moment  of  transport  and  unmatched 
wonder  to  every  one  and  I  felt  as  if  it  could  never  cease  when 
suddenly  in  a  new  note  he  broke  into  his  chorus,  ending  with 
the  soul  melting  words;  'Oh,  what  mus'  it  be  to  be  thar." 

Finally  he  visits  the  ransomed  'of  de  Lord'  and  walks  up 
the  line  speaking  to  the  different  ones  amoi^  the  glorified. 
The  account  thus  continues: 

"Thus  he  went  on  greeting  patriarchs,  prophets,  apostles 
martyrs,  his  brethren  and  loved  ones  gone  before,  until  sud- 
denly he  sprang  back  and  nused  a  shout  that  fairly  shook  the 

roof:    'Here  she  is!    I know'd  sh'd  git  here!    why 

Mary  Barnes,  got  home  did  yer?' 

"A  great  handshake  he  gave  her  and  for  a  moment  it  looked 
as  if  the  newly  glorified  Mary  Barnes  was  the  center  of  Jasper's 
thoughts;  but,  as  if  by  magic,  things  again  changed  and  he  was, 
singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice  the  chorus  which  died  away, 
amid  the  shrieks  and  shouts  of  his  crowd,  with  his  plfuntive 
note,  'Oh  what  mus'  it  be  to  be  thar!' " 

The  book  closes  with  these  words,  "Valiant  heroic  old  man. 
He  stood  in  his  place  and  was  not  afraid." 

Concerning  the  death  of  Jasper,  Dr.  Hatcher  tbua  writes  in 
the  Ai^us: 

"The  death  of  Jasper  shook  BJchomond.  .  .  It  waa 
bruited  about  in  advance  that  he  was  out  of  kelter.  .  .  . 
When  he  could  no  longer  mount  his  pulpit  and  sound  the  gospel 
trumpet,  his  light  went  out.  .  .  When  he  emerged  neat 
and  trim  on  Sunday.  .  .  he  was  happy  as  a  school  boy 
on  vacation  morning  as  he  came  to  meet  his  people! 

"The  cracking  of  bis  trumpet — that  trumpet  which  Mars' 
Sam  Hargrove  put  in  his  bands  on  a  far>away  July  morning 
in  the  old  tobacco  factory,  and  which  he  had  blown  with 
intoxicating  joy  for  a  half-century,  broke  his  spirit  and  life 
could  hold  him  little  longer." 

The  publisher  says  that  the  book  at  this  late  day  still  main- 
ttunB  its  steady  sale.    It  aeons  to  touch  certfua  chorda  ooromon 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


JOHN  JASPER  563 

to  &11  classes  and  profogeioas,  by  ^ving  the  reader  what  the 
author  had  promised  himself  to  give, — "a  dash  of  the  genuine 
Jasper".  He  flashes  light  upon  the  unique  personahty  ao  that 
the  reader  can  see  him  as  he  was?  One  of  the  chapters  is 
entitled  "Jasper  ghmpsed  under  various  lights"  and  when 
the  author  gets  thro\^h  with  this  African  wonder  there  is 
little  in  his  make-up  that  has  not  been  unveiled  before  the 
reader. 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  the  chapters  of  the  book  were 
dashed  off  at  odd  hours,  in  various  places  and  in  the  midst 
of  a  ceaseless  whirl  of  travel  and  work,  and  while  the  volume 
is  a  high  tribute  to  the  genius  of  Jasper,  it  also  reflects  one  of 
the  traits  of  the  author,  and  that  was  his  abiUty  to  discover  a 
great  soul,  even  when  housed  in  a  black  body.  Jasper's  sermon 
on  "De  Sun  do  move"  gave  him  world-wide  notoriety  and 
yet  it  thereby  made  him  the  butt  of  many  a  jest.  Dr.  Hatcher 
sEud  that  that  sermon  exhibited  him  at  his  weakest  point. 
But  underneath  Jasper's  eccentricities  and  oddities  Dr.  Hatcher 
saw  a  jewel  of  purest  ray  and  he  picked  it  up,  rubbed  off  the 
dirt  and  held  it  for  the  world's  gaze  and  verity  there  are  those 
who  say  that  the  hght  will  never  go  out. 

If  I  were  asked  to  name  one  of  the  deepest  roots  in  Dr. 
Hatcher's  character, — the  root  that  went  the  furthest  down 
and  out  of  which  came  the  richest  fruitage  I  would  be  tempted 
to  say  it  was  his  abiUty  to  see  what  was  in  men; — especially 
the  good  and  beautiful  that  was  in  them — and  to  bring  it  to 
light. 

He  sdd  one  day  of  a  certain  prominent  Baptist  minister 
who  was  usually  a  man  of  courtly  bearing  but  carried  within 
him  a  bundle  of  irascible  poasibihties,  "Dr. is  &  gen- 
tleman up  to  a  certain  temperature."  He  understood  the 
Doctor  well;  he  had  many  pleasant  deahngs  with  him  but  be 
always  kept  one  eye  on  the  thermometer. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XL 
190&— 1909 

WITH   THE  ACADEMY  BOYB.      THE  ACADEMY  AND   THE  OOMMUNtTY. 

CBARACTEa    TSAINZNO.         "qBACE-STKEEt"     ANNIVEBBARY. 

HEMnoSICBNCSS.      MANIFOLD  THIPS  AND  LABOBS. 

AB  FOKQ'b  QBADUATION.      MONUMENTS.      A 

FBESONAL  SEBMON.      I^RBONAL 

(SAKACTGBISTICS. 

If  we  would  obtuB  a  full  sized  picture  of  him  we  must  catch 
sight  of  him  in  his  dealings  with  the  Academy  boys.  Some 
of  hie  finer  traits  were  exhibited  in  his  contact  with  them.  When 
he  came  to  Careby  from  his  meetings  and  other  camp^gns  of 
heavy  labor  be  came  not  to  seek  the  rest  and  quiet  in  the 
bosom  of  his  home,  but  rather  to  find  himself  attacked  by 
cares  and  problems  innumerable,  but  be  found  himself  also 
surrounded  by  brigades  of  boys  and  he  was  then  in  his  hap- 
piest mood.  His  keen  eye  saw  what  was  in  them  and  oft  times 
he  would  answer  a  boy  with  a  remark  that  would  stick  in  bis 
memory  and  bum  like  fire  in  his  soul.  Those  eager,  restless 
ambitious  young  fellows  sui^ng  aroimd  him,  as  be  came  upon 
the  campus,  enthusiastically  applaudii^  him  — aa  they  alway* 
did  whenever  he  came  in  to  the  Academy  chapel, — ^knocking  at 
his  Careby  Hall  door  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  often  of  the 
night,  looking  or  speaking  their  appreciation  of  his  kindness, 
or  bombardii^  him  with  their  questions,  and  drinldng  in  his 
counsela; — ^that  was  the  fountfdn  from  which  he  drew  rich 
draughts  of  delight. 

He  was  never  too  busy  to  talk  with  a  boy.    His  wife  says 

that  one  day  he  found  himself  crowded  with  work  in  his  study 

56i 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


WELCOMING  A  BOY  565 

and  he  gave  order  that  he  must  not  be  interrupted  for  anything. 
People  of  aU  ages  and  condiUons  were  visitors  at  Careby. 
Teachers,  or  ne^hbors,  or  i>er8ons  from  a  distanee  would, 
upon  hearing  that  Dr.  Hatcher  had  returned,  for  some  reason 
"want  to  see  Dr.  Hatcher".  But  on  the  day  in  question  the 
edict  went  forth — "No  interruption,"  and  so  during  the  hours 
of  the  morning  his  request  was  scrupulously  observed.  In  the 
course  of  the  day,  however,  a  little  fellow — one  of  the  boys 
of  the  neighborhood — in  some  way  passed  through  the  outer 
sentinels,  entered  the  front  door  and  pounded  on  Dr.  Hatcher's 
door.  As  no  one  else  replied,  Dr.  Hatcher  opened  the  door 
and  his  wife  heard  him  call,  "Hello,  Guy;  Come  right  in". 
His  wife  said  that  from  the  greeting  given  the  boy  one  would 
have  almost  imagined  he  was  greeting  some  distinguished 
visitor,  and  after  his  serious  insistence  r^arding  interruptions 
that  day  she  was  highly  amused  at  the  royal  welcome  he  gave 
the  bqy.  He  stud  that  when  he  was  a  mountiun  boy  scarcely 
anybody  in  his  conmiunity  ever  thought  a  boy  worthy  of  any 
consideration,  and  when  on  rare  occasions  some  one  took 
special  notice  of  him  it  was  an  epoch  in  his  Ufe.  No  reward  for 
bis  kindness  was  so  sweet  and  inspirii^  to  him  as  the  grateful 
light  in  the  face  of  a  boy. 

The  above  occurence  reminds  us  of  an  incident  in  the  life 
of  that  great  lover  of  children,  Francis  Xavier,  the  misuonary: 

"Once  on  some  field  of  labor  where  hundreds  came  with 
their  needs,  their  questions  and  their  heart  hui^^ers,  he  was 
worn  almost  to  utter  exhaustion  by  days  and  nights  of 
serving.  At  last  he  s^d  to  his  attendant,  'I  must  sleep!  I  must 
sleepl  K  I  do  not  I  shall  die.  If  any  one  comes — ^whoever 
comes — ^waken  me  not.  I  must  sleep!  He  then-retired  into 
his  tent,  and  his  faithful  servant  began  his  watch.  It  was  not 
long,  however,  till  a  pallid  face  appeared  at  the  top.  Xavier 
beckoned  eagerly  to  the  watcher  and  said  in  a  solemn  tone, 
'I  made  a  mjstake.    If  a  httle  child  cornea,  waken  me.'  " 

"The  first  time  I  ever  saw  Dr.  Hatcher",  says  Rev.  Dr. 
C.  H.  Dodd,  "he  was  in  an  attitude  which  exactly  and  last- 
ingly depicted  the  man  I  afterwards  found  him  to  be.    He  was 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


666    NEVER  TOO  BUSY  FOR  A  BOY 

standing  in  the  street,  waiting  for  a  car,  and  some  little  ctuldra 
who  knew  him,  a  little  boy  and  g^,  had  crept  up  under  Ids 
aims  lud  were  embracing  him  with  intense  affection.  Big 
and  friendly  he  towered  th«%  over  those  little  children,  in 
his  true  character — more  as  the  shepherd  than  the  bishop  of 
their  souls.  He  pictured  his  own  secret  in  that  fatherly  posture 
as  he  let  the  little  children  come  to  him.  And  he  was  following 
Christ,  too." 

Bev.  F.  H.  Jones  says  that  when  Dr.  Hatcher  was  laboring 
for  Kichmond  coU^e  and  had  his  office  at  tbe  Collie  that  he 
was  a  student  in  the  institution  and  that  one  day,  feeling  a 
little  worried  as  to  his  plans  for  the  future,  he  said:  "I  be- 
lieve I  will  go  down  and  talk  with  Dr.  Hatcher." 

"I  knocked  at  his  door"  said  Mr.  Jones  "and  I  can  hear  his 
voice  now  as  he  shouted  from  within:  'Come  in'.  I  opened  the 
door,  but  saw  his  table  piled  with  papers  and  so  I  said:  TJo, 
doctor,  you  are  busy,  I  will  come  in  some  other  time.' 

"  'Come  right  in,  I'm  never  too  busy  to  talk  to  a  boy.  Cwne 
here  and  tell  me  about  yourself,'  he  sud. 

"I  told  him  what  I  would  like  to  accomplish  at  College,  but 
said  that  I  did  not  know  whether  I  could  or  not,  and  he  promptly 
and  sympathetically  smd:  'Yes,  you  can  and  you  can  do  even 
a  great  deal  more'  and  by  his  kindly  talk  he  put  a  new  hope  in 
my  heart." 

He  sought  to  develope  in  the  Fork  Union  community  a  spirit 
of  helpfulness  towards  the  Academy  students.  The  following 
letter  is  a  sample  of  many  such  letters  written  by  him.  It 
shows  into  what  details  his  crowded  mind  would  go  in  his 
sympathy  for  the  needy  boys: 

"FoHK  Union  Oct  26,  1908. 
"My  Dear  Bbo,: — "I  thought  I  had  written  you  again; 
we  are  very  much  set  on  having  you  come.  If  you  and  your 
father  can  raise  forty-five  ($45)  I  think  that,  if  you  will  come 
and  leani  to  press  the  uniforms  for  the  boys  at  odd  hours,  you 
can  make  enough  to  get  along.  It  is  easy  to  learn  and  we  have 
a  friend  here  that  can  teach  you.  It  is  thoroughly  respectable 
at  our  school  for  hoys  to  work.  They  milk  cows,  cut  wood, 
feed  horses,  act  as  barbers  or  do  anything  else  they  can  to  get 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  ACADEMY  A>fD  THE  NEEDY  BOYS  567 

mon^  to  help  them  aloi^.  The  Lord  helps  those  who  try  to 
help  themselves.  If  you  come  you  had  better  come  at  ooce. 
You  may  have  a  hard  scratch  at  first  but  do  not  mind  that.  If 
you  wait  you  may  lose  the  job  of  which  I  have  spoken.  I 
suggest  that  you  write  to  my  daughter  Miss  Elizabeth  at  this 
place  and  let  us  know  at  once  what  you  intend  to  do.  Come 
trusting  in  God.  Bring  a  letter  of  commendation  from  your 
pastor  or  your  church  or  both. 

"Your  ancere  friend, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

The  regnant  principle  of  the  Academy  was  to  help  the  fellow 
at  the  bottom.  He  had  nearly  all  of  the  families  in  or  around 
Fork  Union  taking  boys  into  their  homes,  pving  them  little 
chores  to  do  and  also  {pving  them  their  board — in  whole  or  in 
part — in  return. 

"Fork  Union"  said  he  "has  a  way  of  finding  (^fted  and  asp- 
iring boys  and  helping  them  to  get  their  education, — those  of 
them  at  least  which  need  help.  This  constitutes  one  feature 
of  the  school  in  which  my  heart  is  most  deeply  interested.  It 
has  come  to  pass  that  Fork  Union  is  known  to  be  a  place  where 
bright  and  clever  boys  love  to  come  because  it  is  known  that 
we  try  to  make  it  ea^er  for  those  who  have  nothing  and  nobody 
to  help  them  in  starting." 

He  was  ever  seeking  to  instil!  into  the  conmiunity  the  idea 
that  the  Academy  was  not  there  as  a  gold  mine  for  Fork 
Union  but  rather  as  an  opportunity  for  Fork  Union  to  help 
struggling  boys.  Sometimes  he  would  create  positions  in  the 
Academy  for  the  boys — which  would  mean  no  income,  or 
very  little,  for  the  Academy,  but  simply  an  opportunity  for 
the  youth  to  help  "work  his  way  through." 

Be  it  said  for  the  Fork  Union  people  that  they  responded  to 
his  appeals  with  gratifying  and,  in  some  cases,  with  beautiful 
generosity.  He  writes  to  a  Virginia  pastor  in  whose  church 
was  a  boy  who  had  gotten  hold  of  his  heart: 

"My  Dear  Bho, — Unless  I  am  mlst^en  I  saw  that  boy 
and  had  flome  talk  with  him  at .    There  is  nothii^ 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


568  WORKING  FOR  BOYS 

more  eacred  on  eartli  than  a  young  man's  desre  to  qoatify 
and  equip  bimself  for  high  usefulness  in  this  worid." 

He  next  offered  to  make  large  reductitm  for  tuitifm  for  the 
boy  uid  then  adds: 

"May  I  ask  also  if  the  fanuly  during  the  sessioii, — by  lus 
father  ^ving  some,  and  his  brother  some  and  his  rasters  some 

and,  F possibly  a  little;  and  the  mother  stinting  the 

family  a  little  on  butter  and  fowls  and  fniite  and  v^etables, 
turning  the  same  into  money, — could  not  help  some  in  raisiDg 
the  $50,00. 

"I  charge  you  as  this  boy's  pastor  to  take  this  work  up  and 
see  it  through  to  a  righteous  conclusion.  What  is  done  oi^t 
to  be  done  now.  Sec  the  family,  ^ht  it  to  a  finish  and  report 
results  at  once.  I  cannot  hold  the  place  for  work  but  a  few 
days,  but  I  will  hold  it  while  you  work  on  the  ease,  and  woric 
day  and  night  until  the  thing  is  done.  It  is  worth  doing  and  it 
will  be  to  your  honor  and  to  the  glory  of  God  to  do  it.  And 
if  you  do  not  do  it,  I  will  blame  you  and  think  you  are  not  as 
good  a  pastor  as  you  ought  to  be.  You  know  how  I  love  you 
and  how  I  trust  you  and  rejoice  with  you  in  your  ministerial 
work." 

"Add  up  in  dollars  and  cents"  says  Dr.  Landrum  "the  total 
of  his  direct  and  indirect  contributions  to  education,  and  many 
a  philanthropic  millionture  will  have  to  look  to  his  laurels. 
Kfitimatt!  the  nature  and  value  of  the  services  he  has  rendered 
vicariounly  to  his  God  and  country,  and  scholars  and  states- 
men may  well  accord  him  fellowship  in  the  temple  of  fame.  So 
long  as  it  is  incumbent  on  some  enterprising  detective  of 
worthfulneas  in  citizenship  to  "write  up"  "who's  who"  in 
America,  he  will  be  derelict  in  duty  if  he  leaves  out  the  name 
of  William  E.  Hatcher." 

He  loved  to  try  his  hand  on  the  incorrigibles, — the  boys 
whom  others  had  despaired  of.  Often  have  I  seen  him  in  his 
iiiBce  at  Careby  Hall  take  in  hand  a  hoy  who  had,  from  dis- 
couragement, or  cowardice,  decided  to  quit  school, — a  boy 
who  had  become  refractory  and  reckless, — and  by  his  direct, 
pungent  talk  to  the  boy,— talk  that  was  frequently  interspersed 
with  ^eamB  of  humor— seek  to  shake  and  jostle  him  into  a  new 


D.qit.zeaOvGoAt^lc 


THE  BOY'S  COMPANION  569 

spirit  and  a  high  ambition.  He  would  point  out  to  the  b<^ 
the  two  roads  before  him  and  chall^ige  him  to  make  his  choice. 
A  favorite  sentence  with  him  was,  "We  will  try  to  make  a  man 
of  him"  and  I  have  often  heard  him  say  to  a  boy,  "Stand  your 
ground  and  we  will  make  a  man  of  you". 

He  was  interested  in  all  the  pursuits  and  games  of  the  stu- 
dents. He  wanted  them  to  tell  him  all  about  themselves. 
It  was  entertaining  to  hear  him  when  he  and  one  or  more  boys 
were  engaged  in  a  free  and  easy  conversation.  The  boys  would 
do  most  of  the  talking, — mostly  in  reply  to  his  questions  and 
it  was  striking  how  his  questions  and  his  attitude  towards 
them  would  put  them  on  their  mettle.  He  was  a  boy  amoi^ 
boys.  Dr.  Ferryman  of  Norfolk,  in  whose  home  Dr.  Hatcher 
waa  entertained  during  a  meeting  of  the  General  Association, 
Bfud  that  his  boy^ — about  ten  or  twelve  years  of  age —  and  Dr. 
Hatcher  were  walking  along  the  street  one  morning  in  front 
of  their  house  when  he  remarked  to  his  wife,  "Just  look  yonder 
at  those  two  boys  talking  to  each  other;  and  look  at  George, 
he  is  talking  to  Dr.  Hatcher  as  if  Dr.  Hatcher  was  nothing  more 
than  a  boy,  like  himself," 

He  loved  to  be  on  the  athletic  field  at  Fork  Union  when 
base  ball  and  foot  ball  games  were  played  and  none  of  the 
spectators  were  more  enthu^aetlcally  interested  than  he.  He 
preached  the  225tb  amuversary  sermon  for  the  First  Baptist 
Church  in  Charleston,  S.  C,  and  afterwards  said,  "I  write 
that  Sunday  as  among  the  high  days  of  my  ministerial  life," 
He  attended  the  General  Association  in  November  and  Dr. 
Masters  draws  the  following  picture  of  him  in  a  group  of 
preachers  one  night  during  the  meetings: 

"In  the  pastor's  study  on  Saturday  night,  after  he  had 
rendered  brilliant  service  in  introducing  the  new  pastors, 
Dr.  Hatcher  chatted  easily  with  several  who  gathered  about 
bim  about  a  sermon  which  he  is  making.  It  is  to  be  on  Barn- 
abas, the  sou  of  consolation,  the  man  who  saw  good  in  people 
and  brought  it  out.  He  developed  a  brief  sketch  of  Barnabas 
as  it  waa  brought  out  in  his  recorded  relations  with  others  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


570        ADDEESS  AT  "GRACE  STREET" 

it  fairly  sparkled  with  pith  and  point.    Dr.  H&tcher  cni^t  to 
send  that  sennon  to  the  Herald." 

It  is  interesting  to  know  that  the  last  sermon  he  ever 
preached — a  few  days  before  his  end — was  on  "Barnabas". 

"Fork  Union,  Oct.  29,  1908. 
"My  Dear  E, — I  am  a  little  frazzled  out  by  a  few  dozen 
bothers  of  dom^tic,  Academic  and  other  sorts.  I  am  writing 
to  you  principally  because  I  do  not  feel  like  it.  But  I  had  a 
roy^  week  with  Shipm&n  at  Bice's  Depot  last  week  [in  meetings]. 
.  .  .  I  am  a^ain  on  the  S.  S.  Lessons  for  next  year.  They 
bother  me  but  I  get  tone  of  good  out  of  them." 

"Yours,  Wm.  E.  H." 

From  Upperville  he  writes: 

"Careby  is  the  only  place  that  has  a  suggestion  of  home  to  me 
and  I  love  it  very  much.  But  the  Academy  absorbs  almost 
every  moment  when  I  go  there.  I  hope  I  can  throw  more  of  the 
burden  on  others." 

He  had  a  unique  experience  at  his  old  Grace  Street  church 
in  November.  The  church  celebrated  its  seventy  fifth  An- 
niversary and  had  asked  him  to  speak  at  that  service  on  his 
"Recollectjons"  of  his  pastorate.  It  was  a  memorable  occaaon. 
The  General  Association  had  just  closed  its  seasons  and  many 
of  its  delegates  lingered  until  the  Grace  Street  Anniversary. 
His  wife  writes:  "it  was  probably  the  greatest  occasion  of  lus 
life." 

To  One  and  Edith  she  writes: 

"Oh  such  a  meeting  we  had  with  every  seat  taken — 1500 
people  at  least. 

"Your  father  was  at  his  best  except  in  voice.  He  had  been 
coughing  all  day  but  did  not  cough  any  while  speakir^.  Of 
course  he  swayed  his  audience  with  tears  and  laughter.  .  .  . 
He  spoke  for  an  hour  and  the  audience  came  enmasse  to  shake 
hands  afterwards.  It  must  have  been  an  ovation  very  pleasing 
to  his  heart." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ADDRESS  AT  "GRACE  STREET"        571 

The  striking  feature  of  the  service  is  yet  to  be  mentioned. 
As  he  began  to  gather  up  bia  "recollections"  of  bis  pastorate 
at  once  the  factional  troubles  that  had  harassed  his  pastor- 
ate for  ten  years  loomed  up  in  the  list  of  his  "recollections." 
He  went  to  the  gentleman  who  had  been  the  leader  of  the  fac- 
tion and  said  "Brother  X they  have  asked  me  to  give 

my  recollections  of  my  pastorate  at  the  Grace  Street  Annive^ 
sary  and  to  do  this  I  must  narrate  some  disagreeable  things 
about  you;  I  tell  you  now  so  that  you  can  be  there." 

The  night  with  its  crowd  arrived  and  there  on  the  pulpit 
sat  this  brother.  Dr.  Hatcher  moved  forward  with  his  address 
taking  up  the  story  of  his  twenty-Edx  years  pastorate  at  the 
banning  and  following  it  to  the  end.  As  a  part  of  the  stoiy 
he  described  the  opposition  that  met  him  near  the  b^^inning 
and  followed  him  for  many  years  and  then  he  brought  his 
narrative  to  a  climax  by  saying: 

"Those  were  pregnant  and  stressful  days  in  my  existence. 
The  plowshare  was  in  my  soul  for  a  decade  and  life  hung 
trembling  on  the  verge  of  a  tragedy.  There  were  men  who  gave 
me  trouble  and  there  sits  near  me  now  the  chieftain  of  that 
wasting  strife.  I  could  not  give  my  recoilections  without 
saying  to  you  before  him  and  before  this  great  multitude  that 
he  was  to  me  a  trial  long  drawn  out  and  yet,  as  I  weigh  the  past, 
I  do  not  believe  that  1  ever  lost  my  respect  for  him,  thou^  I 
may  have  mislaid  it  more  than  once  and  I  am  sure  I  did  not 
lose  absolutely  my  faith  in  his  christian  character  though  it 
shook  many  a  time,  and  times  upon  times  I  told  the  Lord  that 
if  he  did  not  prop  it  up  it  would  inevitably  break  into  hopeless 
ruin.  After  the  end  came  I  told  him  I  had  gone  through  my 
heart,  searching  every  comer  and  crevice,  and  that  I  found 
nothing  that  would  interfere  with  our  fullest  fellowship  and  our 
freest  cooperation  in  all  good  works,  and  I  can  say  to  him  today, 
^ter  the  years  have  lapsed  away,  that  I  cherish  for  Mm  gen- 
uinely brotherly  love  and  account  him  among  that  circle  of 
friends  whom  I  can  trust  without  a  misgiving.  I  hold  up  my 
right  band  before  him  declaring  that  in  its  grasp  there  is  friend- 
ship and  brotherhood  untainted  by  one  unhappy  memory." 

As  he  said  this  the  gentleman  "sprang  to  his  feet,  walked 
forward  and  exchanged  with  the  speaker  a  cordial  band  grasp. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


572  THE  WISE  COUNSELOR 

It  was  an  episode  that  will  constitute  a  part  of  the  permanent 
history  of  that  church."  It  was  a  dramatic  scene.  He  was 
publicly  digging  up  old  clashes  and  strifes  and  under  careless 
handling  he  might  have  precipitated  a  disturbance  there  upon 
the  platform.  They  grasped  each  other's  hands  that  night 
in  mutual  esteem  and  honor  which  continued  unabated  to  the 
end  of  their  lives. 

When  asked  whether  Dr.  D would  be  a  good  man 

for  a  certain  Louisville  church  to  call  he  said,  "He  is  good  enough 
for  Louisville  and  Louisville  is  good  enough  for  him,  hut  I  am 
not  sure  that  they  are  good  enough  for  each  other."  In  refer- 
ring to  Dr.  Hatcher  a  prominent  minister  of  Richmond  wrote 
on  Dec,  4th,  "I  know  of  no  one  to  whom  I  can  go  whose  coun- 
sel would  have  so  much  weight  with  me  in  rendering  an  impor- 
tant deciaon."  And  here  before  me  is  a  letter  from  Dr.  A.  B. 
Rudd  saying  "Dr.  Hatcher  helped  me  to  decide  a  great  life 
question".  In  the  midst  of  his  goings  he  had  his  lights  and 
shadows.  He  writes  from  Fork  Union,  "My  health  is  not  as  good 
as  usual.  In  fact  I  have  almost  concluded  that  it  is  not  likely 
that  it  will  be  so  good  as  it  has  been.  I  am  nervous  and  full 
of  puns  in  one  way  and  another." 

But  with  this  plaintive  note  comes  another  in  brighter  tone, 
"My  visit  to  Shenandoah  ig  a  new  and  lustrous  page  in  my  life 
and  I  shall  read  it  over  many  a  time  in  this  world  and,  yet  more 
times,  I  hope,  in  the  other  world." 

The  view  we  get  of  him  shows  him  busy  with  his  next  book, — 
a  book  of  his  reminiscences — at  our  Baltimore  home,  while  he 
is  engaged  in  revival  meetings  at  the  Eutaw  Place  Church. 

He  writes: 

"Eldridge  is  helping  me  masterfully  on  my  second  book — 
that  which  meddles  with  my  recollections.  As  a  fact  I  rather 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  embalming  ray  reminiscences. 
They  have  a  nice  look  and  a  fair  light  for  me,  but  to  be  putting 
them  in  a  book  and  hawking  them  on  to  the  book-stalls  and 
making  a  thing  of  commerce  with  them  inclines  me  to  take  to 
the  tall  timbers. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


REMINISCENCES  573 

"But  I  am  committed  to  Revell  and  believe  that  we  already 
have  about  enough  material  to  make  a  good  sized  book, — 
such  ae  it  will  be.   I  leave  here  Monday." 

He  went  next  to  Franklin,  Indiana,  for  meetings  but  not 
until  he  had  paid  a  vimt  to  Fork  Union.    He  writes: 

"I  had  a  careworn  time  at  Careby.  The  Academy  throws 
its  bitter  waters  in  my  face.  But  I  get  good  out  of  it.  New 
students  come  in  rather  thick  aad  I  pick  up  many  crumbs  of 
comfort  as  I  march  on.  Sweet  memories  of  your  home  are 
still  weighii^  me  down  with  burdens  of  joy." 

A  few  weeks  later  he  writes  me  again: 

"Academy  affairs  are  not  running  well.  The  only  successful 
work  that  they  seem  to  carry  on  is  the  harrowing  up  of  my  old 
soul  with  constant  anxietieB.  .  ,  .  But  you  know  that  I 
never  feel  well,  nor  am  quite  happy,  if  things  go  too  well  with 
me.  Things  have  to  get  crossed  in  order  to  make  me  go 
strwgbt." 

At  Franklin  the  "Reminiscences"  still  weighed  upon  his 
mind.    He  writes  to  his  daughter  Orie: 

"I  feel  rather  ashamed  of  myself  that  my  memory  has 
waked  up  and  assumed  such  haughty  airs.  I  fear  that  what 
little  productive  power  I  may  have,  and  also  my  energetic 
grasp  on  the  future,  may  go  to  smash  in  the  ahnost  gleeful 
eagerness  with  which  my  memory  is  spurting  up  and  down 
the  past  and  luggii^  in  all  sorts  of  remimscences. 

"I  give  some  time  every  day  to  my  book  and  hope  that  it 
will  not  be  long  before  I  have  material  enou^  to  feed  it  to  the 
printer," 

He  wrote  to  another  person  that  in  "pegging  away  on  his 
Reminiscences"  he  felt  Eke  "an  egotistical  fiend." 

From  Franklin  he  went  to  Fort  Wayne  in  the  same  state 
(Indiana),  where,  in  addition  to  his  revival  meetings,  he  de- 
livered an  address  on  John  Jasper. 

"The  ministers  were  so  stirred  up  and  talked  so  much  about 
it"  s^d  Dr.  Vichert  "that  there  was  a  demand  by  the  public 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


574  FROM  POINT  TO  POINT 

for  the  same  address  and  he  repeated  it  in  my  church  on  the 
afteniooii  of  Feb.  21st  when  the  large  auditorium  was  ^led 
and  those  who  came  were  inspired  and  delighted  as  the  min- 
isters had  been." 

He  stopped  in  Louisville  for  a  lecture  at  the  Seminary.  He 
wrote  me,  "I  selected  as  my  theme  'The  Preacher  and  his 
Purse'  and  I  had  it  In  right  good  shape.  They  ripped  up  the 
smaller  hills  about  it  and  requested  it  for  publication." 

He  writes  to  his  daughter  Edith  who  was  studying  name 
in  New  York : 

"You  were  quite  pretty  and  interesting  as  I  remember  you 
before  we  forgot  each  other.  I  admire  you  most  of  all  my  chil- 
dren because  we  resemble  each  other  the  most  at  least  in  the 
respect  that  we  are  too  busy  to  write  to  each  other." 

On  his  return  to  Fork  Union  after  his  long  alienee  he  found 
the  \i8ual  crop  of  Academy  bothers  Hned  up  and  wuting  for 
him.  "We  have  Trustee  meeting  on  Thursday"  he  writes  from 
Fork  Union  "and  we  have  problems  of  elephantine  proportions 
on  hand."   After  the  meeting  he  writes: 

"We  had  a  high  time  at  our  Trustee  meefii^.    

heard  it  thunder  and  perhaps  are  now  looking  for  the  U^t- 
ning  to  strike." 

His  next  jump  was  to  Ik^efield,  S.  C.  where  he  held  revival 
meetings,  with  his  d^ly  schedule  aa  follows:  ■ 

"Men's  Prayer  Meeting  at  8'.30  A.  M. 
Service  at  the  Academy  at  11  A.  M. 
Service  at  4  P.  M. 
Service  at  night," 

A  full  programme  was  this  for  one  who  was  approaching  his 
76th  birthday. 

The  Edgefield  Chronicle  says  "He  is  a  grey-hared  man — 
grey  with  the  brave  fight  and  long  campaign  of  seventy-five 
years.    As  we  hstened  to  him  preach  on  Sunday  morning,  we 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


FROM  POINT  TO  POINT  576 

thought  of  how,  when  he  went  borne  to  heaven  all  the  "ran- 
somed throng"  would  hasten  to  welcome  him.  God  bless  him 
and  his  work!  And  may  he  stay  with  us  to  the  last  moment 
of  his  avEulable  time!" 

Blessed  experiences  were  his  in  the  meetioge  during  the  win- 
ter in  South  Carolina.  The  Editor  of  the  Christian  Index  in 
Georgia  published  the  following: 

"What  a  glorious  thing  it  is  for  a  man,  far  advanced  in  years, 
to  be  rendering  such  service  to  the  glory  of  the  Lord  as  Dr. 
William  E.  Hatcher  is  doing.  Every  now  and  then  we  see  in 
the  papers  accounts  of  gracious  and  blessed  meetings  in  which 
he  is  assisting  pastors.  He  is  verily  brining  forth  fruit  in  his 
'  old  age,  and  fruit  of  the  richest  and  finest  quality.  May  the 
Lord  spare  him  yet  many  years  with  bis  powers  unimp^red 
for  this  kind  of  service." 

In  May  he  attended  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  where 
the  denominational  agencies  piled  their  burdens  upon  him. 
"All  present  remember"  said  Dr.  Jeffries  "what  a  power  he 
was  before  the  Louisville  Convention  in  helping  to  secure  the 
splendid  subscription  [for  the  Seminary]  which  gave  impulse 
and  assuiauce  to  the  movement.  He  was  then  a  man  of  74 
years." 

Back  to  Fork  Union  he  hurried  and  from  there  he  went  agun 
to  South  Carolina  for  meetings  at  Bennettsville  and  Bates- 
ville.  We  restrain  our  pen  from  telling  oi  the  glories  of  these 
meetings  and  hurry  with  him  back  to  Vir^nia  to  an  all-day 
meetii^  at  "dear  old  Bethlehem"  church  in  Chesterfield. 
To  see  him  in  one  of  his  best  roles  we  must  view  him  at  an  all 
day  meeting  in  the  country.  The  above  church  was  the  same 
church  at  which  he  had  held  the  wonderful  meeting  of  many 
years  f^o.  He  preached  in  the  morning,  but  it  was  in  the 
afternoon  that  the  unique  service  was  held.  It  was  a  memorial 
service  in  memory  of  certfun  honored  members  who  had  passed 
to  their  heavenly  revjard.    His  letter  to  me  tella  the  story: 

"My  day  at  Bethlehem  was  phenomenal,  mcomparable 
and  next  to  miraculous.    The  crowd  was  great  and  a  number 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


676  BETHLEHEM 

of  the  brethren,  like  Caiy  WiDston,  Bob  Wood,  and  Jeff  Brown, 
made  a  vast  splutteration  over  my  Bennon.  It  showed  thar 
goodness,  but  not  their  capacity  for  criticism. 

"The  Memorial  Services  cMne  in  the  afternoon  and  they  were 
about  as  unlike  a  funeral  as  a  moving  picture  show.  I  began 
with  old  Mr.  McTyre,  Isaac  Winston  and  Miss  Sallie.  I  told 
all  the  humorous  and  comical  things  except  the  story  of  the 
gray  mare.  I  mentioned  a  multitude  of  the  members,  gave 
'old  man  Lybarger  [one  of  the  members]  and  the  oats'  story 
and  his  conversion  and  closed  with  old  Mr.  Orrell  and  the 
Laprade  boy.  The  feeling  towards  the  dose  was  electric  and 
powerful  and,  while  ^nging  the  last  hymn,  I  invited  confes^ons 
of  faith  and  there  were  four.  They  are  wearying  me  out  to  hold 
a  meeting.    How  would  you  like  to  do  it? 

"Already  Bethel  is  asking  for  a  memorial  day  and  the  rest 
of  them  have  suddenly  waked  up  to  feel  that  I  ought  to  hold 
their  protracted  meetings  for  them.  Invitations  come  in  from 
every  direction. 

"I  go  to  Christiansburg  for  a  dedication  Sunday  and  I 
beheve  I  have  eight  dedications  to  follow." 

He  writes  to  his  daughter,  Orie,  who  is  vioting  in  Bedford 
near  his  glorious  old  mountain  "the  Peaks": 

"My  Dear  Orie, — "If  you  see  your  couan  Johnnie  be  sure 
to  fall  in  love  with  him  and  his  wife  and  ask  him  if  he  has'nt 
got.a  grandson  that  would  make  a  first  class  man.  If  he  thinks 
that  he  has  a  boy  of  that  description,  he  must  make  it  the  joy 
of  his  advancii^  years  to  educate  him,  and  I  would  be  glad  to 
get  hold  of  him  while  he  is  young  and  tender.  I  hear  that  bis 
daughter  has  very  delightful  and  promising  children.  Give 
my  love  to  the  entire  Peak  tribe. 

"I  hope  you  will  fatten  a  pound  a  day  while  you  are  gone 
and  stay  fifteen  days. 

"I  came  from  Richmond  yesterday  and  foimd  my  work  piled 
a  good  deal  higher  than  nature  did  her  job  when  she  piled  the 
peaks  of  Otter." 

His  mail,  month  by  month,  gleamed  with  such  bright  and 
kindly  messi^es  as  the  following: 
From  Dr.  C.  H.  Ryland: 

"My  Dsar  Wn,LiAii  E: — "I  have  come  to  rejoice  in  your 
going  forth  although  I  am  not  free  from  anxiety  about  the 


p.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SPEECH  TO  AFOH  NG  ■  577 

strenuous  way  in  which  you  are  conducting  your  campaigns. 
The  Psalmist  said,  'I  am  a  wonder  to  many'  and  you  are  a 
wonder  to  me." 

From  Dr.  i.  M.  Frost: 

"I  congratulate  you  .  .  on  the  great  and  glorious  record 
you  have  made  for  yourself.  Very  few  men  have  stamped 
themselves  more  deeply,  or  for  better  purpose,  on  their  day 
and  generation  than  you  have  done." 

Judge  Haralson,  in  a  love  letter  to  him,  writes,"!  wish  my 
title  to  an  eternal  inheritance  were  as  clear  as  yours." 

An  interesting  incident  occured  in  connection  with  the 
graduation  of  his  Chinese  boy.  Ah  Fong,  at  the  Commencement 
exercises  at  Richmond  College  in  June.  He  made  a  pubho 
address  to  this  Chinese  lad  who  thus  describes  the  event: 

"When  I  took  my  B.  A.  degree  Dr.  Hatcher  presented  me 
with  a  gold  ring  which  I  value  it  above  all  other  things  be- 
cause in  it  was  his  love  to  me.  In  presenting  the  ring  he  made  a 
speech.  I  do  not  remember  the  wording  of  that  speech  but 
the  contents  of  it  I  still  remember.  He  told  how  he  met  me. 
why  he  took  me  into  his  home.  Since  I  have  become  a  member 
of  his  family  he  had  no  occasion  to  complain  agiunst  me.  There 
was  not  one  discord  between  us,  he  said.  He  painted  my  be- 
havior so  good  that  it  makes  me  blush  to  think  of  it  even  now. 
He  told  my  record  at  the  schools.  How  an  untutored  lad  I  was 
when  I  first  entered  his  home — took  away  some  honor  from 
Fork  Union  Academy.  And  graduated  there  and  now  takes 
away  an  honor  from  EJchmond  College.  That  he  present  the 
ring  to  me  because  of  his  warm  love  for  me- 

"On  several  occaaons  he  asked  me  what  I  would  do  when  I 
finished  my  education  in  America.  Then  he  would  say;  'I  don't 
know  what  you  ought  to  do,  only  the  Lord  knows.  Remember 
one  thing;  you  ought  always  to  be  useiil  to  the  world.'  I  re- 
member very  distinctly  one  Saturday  aft«moon  as  I  was  driv- 
ing him  to  Bremo  Station  to  catch  the  up-train  to  Lynchburg. 
It  was  in  the  Summer  of  1909  after  I  had  taken  my  B.  A,  at 
Richmond  College.  I  had  not  decided  where  to  go  the  next 
school  term.  He  said  to  me,  'Ah  Fong  what  do  you  want  to 
make  of  youiseU?'    I  mentioned  sevenil  things  what  I  would 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


578  HIS  HORROE  OF  BEING  FORGOTTEN 

like  to  be;  among  them  were  mining,  medicine  and  law.  He 
did  not  approve  for  me  to  take  up  minii^.  Bis  reason  was 
that  people  who  study  that  course  amply  wish  to  make  money. 
They  have  no  thought  for  the  welfare  of  the  world.  'I  want 
to  knock  that  out  of  your  head'  he  said.  If  he  had  used  his 
time  to  make  money  he  would  be  a  very  lich  man.  To  nuike 
money  is  very  easy;  but  to  train  men  for  one's  country  is  very 
hard.  'Now'  he  s(ud  'many  people  think  and  a  large  number 
of  people  have  asked  me  it  I  were  to  make  a  preacher  out  of 
you.  I  told  them  that  I  am  making  a  man  of  you,  as  to  what 
you  will  do  I  leave  it  to  the  Lord." 

Later  on  Ah  Fong  wait  to  New  York  to  study  in  Columbia 
College.    He  says: 

"When  I  went  to  New  York,  Dr.  Hatcher  did  not  know  any- 
thing about  it  at  that  time.  I  only  wrote  him  a  letter  that  I 
waa  going  to  New  York  to  work  my  way  through  Columbia. 
When  he  received  my  letter  he  at  once  wrote  me  a  long  and 
kind  letter.  It  was  full  of  advice  and  said  that  he  was  sorry 
that  he  could  not  support  me  through  the  University;  but  that 
he  had  great  hope  for  me  that  I  would  succeed  in  my  effort. 
He  would  be  very  lonesome  when  he  was  at  Fork  Union  with- 
out me,  but  no  matter  where  I  would  be  there  would  be  a 
place  for  me  in  his  heart  and  still  clwmed  me  as  a  member  of 
his  family." 

Some  time  before  this  he  wrote  an  article  which  seems  never 
to  have  been  published.  The  manuscript  bears  no  intimation 
of  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  written.  The  subject  is,  "The 
Monumental  Idea"  and  begins  as  follows: 

"The  dread  of  oblivion  is  universal.  The  human  soul  shrinks 
appalled  from  the  possibility  of  bdng  forgotten.  In  some  way 
we  carry  the  thought  that  we  are  a  put  of  the  universal  whole 
and  that  it  would  be  fatt^  to  lose  our  place." 

He  declared  once  in  a  sermon  that  the  idea  of  annihilation 
waa  a  more  horrible  doctrine  to  him  than  that  of  everlasting 
punishment.  He  had  in  him,  very  strong,  the  deare  to  be 
remembered.  In  the  above  treatment  of  the  "the  monumoit&l 
idea"  he  thus  continues: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


"THE  MONUMENTAL  IDEA"         579 

"Only  the  stranded  and  lost  can  face  the  terrors  of  oblivion. 

"To  many  of  those  who  take  a  larger  view  of  life  and  under- 
stand its  relationahipa  there  comes  another  thought.  .  .  There 
is  the  deare  that  the  monument,  while  standing  guard  over  tie 
dust  of  the  dead,  shall  bear  a  message  to  those  who  come  after. 

"To  those  of  us  who  travel  here  and  there,  the  sight  of 
the  cemetery,  or  the  white  slabs  in  the  family  burial  place  in 
the  country,  furnishes  touching  and  pathetic  proofs  of  the 
prevalence  of  the  memorial  passion.  From  the  fragment  of 
marble  which  tells  of  the  httle  one  gone,  to  the  towering  shaft, 
or  the  elaborate  mausoleum,  we  catch  proof  of  this  quenchless 
longing  of  the  human  soul. 

"A  monument  ought  to  be  something  more  than  a  grotesque 
effort  to  scare  oblivion  away  from  the  graves  of  men.  The 
monument  is  an  appefJ  to  matter — voiceless,  unproductive  and 
dead — to  confer  historic  immortality  upon  those  who  ought 
not  to  be  forgotten.  It  is  asking  too  much  of  stone,  marble  and 
brass.  They  cannot  speak,  nor  travel,  nor  sing,  nor  sound  the 
praises  of  the  dead.  They  can  only  stand  stUl,  bearli^  their 
inacriptions  and  enduring  the  pelting  of  the  storm  and  the 
cankerous  rust  of  the  ages.  While  history  may  be  made  to  stand 
as  a  sentinel  over  the  graves  of  the  great,  yet  the  historian 
and  prophet  must  meet  at  every  monument,  the  one  telling 
of  what  has  been  and  the  other  tilling  of  things  yet  to  be. 

"There  is  something  transcendently  noble  in  the  thought 
that  one  can  impart  a  monumental  value  to  the  part  that  he 
plays  in  this  life,  so  that  he  will  be  remembered,  not  so  much 
by  what  he  did  as  by  what  his  constructive  life  caused  to  be 
done  after  he  has  passed  within  the  veil. 

"In  one  respect  every  man  must  be  hia  own  monument 
builder.  He  must  either  enrich  his  hfe  with  achievements  so 
briUiant  and  imperishable  that  they  will  be  Mb  euffident  mem- 
orial, or  he  must  confer  benefactions  which  will  cause  others 
to  ctmunemorate  his  virtues." 

In  looking  over  his  papers  I  found  the  following  document. 
It  was  written  a  few  days  before  hia  751ii  birthday  and  ap- 
parently was  mentioned  to  no  one  and  Itud  aade.  It  is  prob- 
able that  the  following  words  about  himself  were  written  as  he 
sat  in  his  study  musing  upon  the  near  approach  of  bis  An- 
niversary: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


580  A  PERSONAL  SERMON 

"A  Personal  Sermon" 

"The  days  of  our  years  are  three-score  years  and  ten;  and  if 
by  reason  of  strei^b  they  be  four-score  years  y«t  is  their 
strength  labor  and  sorrow;  for  it  is  soon  cut  off  and  we  fly 
away. 

"Moses  stands  as  the  unchallenged  author  of  the  90th  Fsalm. 
.  ,  .  Seventy  years  he  puts  ss  the  la^t  mile-stone  of  a 
long  life;  beyond  that  continued  life  is  exceptional,  burdensome 
and  speeding  swiftly  to  its  clo!^.  It  is  always  dangerous  for 
men  to  spe^  or  write  concerning  themselves.  Truly  it  oi^ht 
to  be  that  by  this  time  I  can  speak  without  passion  or  prejudice 
about  myself.  I  am  too  far  from  the  asperities  and  strifes 
of  earth  to  have  my  deliverances  affected  with  the  warrior's 
spirit  and  too  grateful  for  the  multiplication  of  my  days  to  be 
apprehensive  as  to  what  is  to  come. 

"With  the  passage  of  a  few  days  I  will  reach  my  75th  an- 
niversary. This  will  put  me  upon  the  middle  line  between 
seventy  and  eighty — that  is,  if  I  do  hold  out.  In  the  last  letter 
which  I  received  from  Spuigeon  he  told  me  of  the  complex 
infirmities  and  tortures  of  the  flesh  with  the  comment  that  he 
could  not  hold  out  much  longer.  Truly  and  gratefully  I  can 
put  en  record  that  I  have  no  disease  within  my  mortal  frame 
of  which  I  am  conscious  and  scarcely  a  pun  or  disturbance  in 
any  function  of  my  bodily  system  and  yet  I  am  distinctly 
aware  of  the  gradual  relaxation  of  my  powers.  My  grasp 
lacks  its  olden  vigor  and  my  step  takes  on  an  increa^g  heavi- 
ness. Within  the  circle  of  my  family,  and  yet  more  perhaps 
outside  of  it,  there  has  been  a  stroi^  desire  that  my  seventy- 
fifth  birthday  should  in  some  way  have  some  celebration. 
With  no  distinct  wish  to  have  my  way  about  it  I  have  felt  a 
strong  aversion  to  any  demonstration  in  my  honor  at  the  half- 
way house  between  seventy  and  eighty.  It  falls  in  better  with 
my  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  to  compare  my  own  experiences 
with  the  philosophical  utterances  of  Moses,  By  his  measure 
of  life  I  desire  to  lay  my  own  frail  life  down  and  see  how  the  two 
look  in  the  light  of  each  other. 

"No  fantastic  deceptions  as  to  my  unfuling  youth  have 
possessed  me.  I  have  marked  the  approach  of  age  with  serious- 
ness and  gratitude  and  have  never  for  a  moment  sought  to 
deceive  myself  about  it.  The  catchy  phrases  about  being 
"only  as  old  as  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  and  of  being  "as  good 
at  seventy  as  at  thirty-five"  never  fit  my  lips.    Indeed  I  have 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


MBiGooi^le 


PHYSICAL  TRAITS  681 

thought  that  age  was  too  respectable  and  too  honorable  to  be 
disowned  or  disguised- 

"Finis-80  far — " 

He  here  speaks  of  the  gradual  relaxation  of  Mb  powers.  His 
words  were  true  as  r^arded  his  bodily  powers,  hut  his  mental 
forces  seemed  as  alert  and  vigorous  as  ever  aad  until  the  very 
end  they  nuuntained  their  usual  high  standard.  Walking 
became  an  increasing  burden  with  him.  He  avoided  steep 
climbs  and  and  in  cities  would  always  take  the  street  car,  if 
only  to  save  himself  the  walk  of  a  few  squares.  His  weight 
at  this  Ume  was  considerable  and  in  view  of  the  load  of  avoir- 
dupois that  he  had  to  carry  it  is  not  surprisng  that  he  oft-times 
preferred  for  the  street  car,  instead  of  his  two  feet,  to  cany  it. 
And  yet  he  did  a  goodly  share  of  walking.  He  would  frequently 
walk  for  exercise.  There  waa  at  Careby  a  long  front  porch  and 
also  a  concrete  walk  semi-circular  in  shape  in  front  of  Careby 
and  along  these  he  would  oft«n  tramp  back  and  forth;  and 
he  would  never  walk  aimlessly.  He  would  move  as  if  he  were 
walking  for  a  purpose  and  a  very  important  one.  There  would 
be — as  he  walked —  an  animation  in  his  face,  as  if  there  were 
delightful  results  awaiting  him  at  the  end  of  his  walk, — ^pro- 
vided however,  that  he  would  not  loiter  by  the  way.  Often 
he  would  count  his  steps  out  loud  as  he  walked, — "one,  two, 
three,  four,"  and  so  on  to  a  himdred  or  more.  He  conadered 
that  he  stepped  a  yard  at  a  time  and  he  knew  well  the  distance, 
in  yards,  of  all  the  walks  over  which  he  frequently  tramped. 
Durii^  his  sickness  at  our  house,  in  Baltimore, — at  a  time  when 
he  was  long  shut  in — ^he  would  get  up  out  of  his  bed  and  start 
on  a  tramp  through  the  bouse, — into  the  front  room  and  back 
throu^  the  hall  into  the  rear  room  and  then  down  the  sturway 
and  through  the  first  floor  and  up  the  stairs  again  and  thus 
with  earnest,  determined  steps  he  would  make  the  circuit 
of  the  house  many  times  as  if  each  step  he  was  taking  involved 
the  destinies  of  several  nations  of  the  earth. 

During  his  last  years  when  he  would  walk  rapidly  his  right 
hand  would  swing  vigorously  at  his  side  while  his  left  hand 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


582       READING  HIMSELF  TO  SLEEP 

hung  in  OBe  podtion,  and  as  he  walked  his  left  shoulder  would 
seem  to  dip  just  a  little, — as  if  his  left  leg  had  become  slightly 
shorter  than  the  other. 

Another  fact  must  be  mentioned.  During  his  later  life  his 
hours  of  sleep  each  night  were  few  and  somewhat  irregular. 
He  would  always  read  himself  to  sleep  at  night  and  we  were 
always  afnud  that,  with  hia  poor  eye-aght  and  with  his  custom 
of  sleeping  in  all  maimer  of  places,  he  would  knock  over  the 
lamp  at  the  moment  when  he  would  become  drowsy  and  seek 
to  put  out  the  light.  He  would  often  snatch  a  nap  during  the 
day  in  hie  morris  chair.  One  night  while  reading  in  his  chair  he 
bad  dropped  off  to  sleep  with  the  lamp  very  near  his  hand  and 
his  wife  said  to  Edith,  "I'm  afraid  your  father  will  in  waking 
move  his  hand  and  knock  over  that  lamp"  and  her  words  had 
hardly  been  spoken  before  he  threw  back  his  hand  and  over 
went  the  lighted  lamp.  It  was  hurled  out  of  the  window  and 
the  dai^er  was  averted.  The  wonder  is  that  many  more  such 
accidents  did  not  occur. 

He  nearly  always  carried  mf^azines  or  neswpapera  with  him 
in  his  travels  in  order  that  he  might  be  sure  of  having  reading 
material  in  the  night  hours.  Often  he  would  awaken  far  in  the 
night  and  in  order  to  hasten  the  return  of  his  sleep  he  would 
light  his  lamp  and  open  his  magaeine  or  book  for  another 
readily.  In  a  abort  while  he  would  feel  the  drowsy  symptoms, 
out  would  go  the  lamp  and  he  would  quickly  drop  into  slumber 
once  more. 

His  sneezing  outburats  were  often  very  loud  and  fumiithed 
great  amusement  to  the  grandchildren.  He  did  not  perpetrate 
such  explosions  in  the  social  circle,  or  in  religious  assemblies, — 
at  leaat  he  seemed  to  moderate  the  performance  on  such  oc- 
CBfflons;  but  often  in  the  home  circle,  when  the  "coast  was  clear," 
and  especially  if  the  young  folks  were  in  evidence,  he  would  let 
himself  out  and  his  sneezes  could  be  heard  hundreds  of  yards 
in  the  distance.  Sometimes  he  would  startle  those  in  his 
presence  by  one  of  these  shoutii^ — almost  screaming — sneezes 
and  then  with  uplifted  eye-brows  and  an  amused  smile  on  hia 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LETTER  TO  DR.  BRYAN  583 

face  he  would  watch  the  company  aa  they  would  recover 
from  their  shock  and  break  into  a  laugh. 

"I  remember"  swd  a  lady,  "the  first  time  my  little  girl  beard 
him  sneeze  and  it  fiigbtened  her  so  that  she  was  on  the  vei^e 
of  cryii^'.  Such  performances  were  not  frequent;  but  they 
at  least  came  often  enough  to  show  his  abihty  in  that  direction. 
Often  in  his  later  life  when  he  dropped  upon  the  lounge  for  a 
nap  he  would  advertize  the  fact  by  vigorous  snoring  which 
would  continue  in  undulating  fashion  for  several  minutes  and 
suddenly  explode  in  a  nervous  gasp. 

During  the  Summer  he  attended  Associations,  dedicated 
churches,  made  all  manner  of  addresses,  directed  the  afffurs 
of  the  Academy,  kept  his  typewriter  busy  and  did  other  things 
too  numerous  to  be  catalogued  here. 

To  his  friend,  Dr.  E.  B.  Bryan,  of  Franklin  College,  who  had 
recwitly  been  elected  to  the  presidency  of  Colgate  University, 
he  writes  a  letter  which  closed  as  follows: 

"I  could  write  all  day  but  this  Academy  business  has  me  by 
the  throat  for  several  days. — and  so,  with  a  tear  for  Franklin, 
with  a  shout  for  Colgate  and  with  a  prayer  for  you,  with  honor 
for  your  wife,  with  fatherly  admiration  for  Helen,  with  pride 
over  your  boy  and  with  ever  so  much  afTection  for  your  other 
girl,  with  a  dumb  grief  for  "Powle"  and  St.  Bertha  and  a  wish 
that  the  kingdom  of  God  may  come  and  that  you  and  I  may 
stand  fflde  by  side  when  the  shouting  day  comes,  I  am  as  ever 
and  ever  will  be. 

"Your  lover, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

"Your  father  had  a  sort  of  collapse  after  returning  from 
church"  writes  my  mother.  "He  had  been  to  Richmond  to  buy 
furniture  for  the  Academy  and  had  a  hard  day  walking  around. 
He  is  better  now." 

He  wrote  me  on  Sept.  14th,  the  "bluest'  letter  which  I  ever 
received  from  him.  A  young  man  who  had  been  staying  at 
Careby  whom  he  had  greatly  loved  for  many  years  and  who 
made  a  trip  to  Richmond  had,  after  a  loi^  season  of  abstinence. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


584  SUDDEN  DEPBES8I0N 

fallen  s  victim  to  his  old  enemy  strong  drink.  There  wese 
other  burdens,  but  it  was  the  fall  of  the  youth  that  d^ressed 
him  tbe  most.  He  was  a  compaokm  (or  him  during  his  vieats 
at  Careby  helping  him  in  all  manner  of  ways. 

"His  fall  is  a  blow  to  me"  he  writes  "I  leaned  on  him  for 
everything.  Besides  my  expenses  are  very  great  and  my  in- 
come next  to  nothing. 

"But  never  mind.  Let  me  just  tell  you  my  sorrows,  but 
not  to  bother  you— only  to  relieve  me.  After  aU  it  is  not  very 
desirable  for  a  worthless  man  to  live  too  long.  Jtist  tlunk  about 
me  and  pray  for  me. 

"Yours, 

"W.  E.  H." 

A  low  drop  was  that  for  him.  But  it  is  not  unlikely  that 
somethii^  occured  soon  thereafter  to  send  his  E^nrits  on  tbe 
upward  climb;  a  boy  may  have  appeared  on  the  scene  or  some 
needy  case  may  have  drawn  his  thoughts  into  other  channels 
and  gradually  lifted  bim  back  to  his  former  level. 

Mr.  Geoi^e  Schmelz  writes  him  from  Asheville,  N.  C,  "Judge 
Haralson,  who  is  stopping  at  the  %'ictoria  Inn  where  I  am  located. 

.  .  .  says  he  loves  you  better  than  any  other  man  he 
knowB." 

At  the  Portsmouth  Association  in  September,  Dr.  Hugh  C. 
Smith  preached  the  introductory  sermon.  At  the  close  of  his 
sermon  a  note, — gratefully  cherished  even  until  this  day  by 
Dr.  Smith — was  passed  to  him;  he  opened  it  and  read  as  fol- 
lows: 

"Dbas  Hdoh, — I  heard  your  sermtHi  with  exceeding  pleasure. 
It  was  fresh,  fervent  and  was  eifectively  delivered.  My  soul 
swelled  with  pride  and  joy  as  I  heard  you. 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

Ss  new  book  of  reminiscences  was  nearing  completion. 
We  spent  several  days  together  at  the  Jefferson  Hotel  in  Rich- 
mond in  October^  working  on  the  book.  We  shut  ourselves 
up  in  a  room,  and  the  typewriter  tjcked  away,  page  after  page, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


REMINISCENCES  585 

as  he  dictated  aad  his  words  came  as  fast  as  they  could  be  put 
upon  paper.  One  day  I  asked  him— as  I  came  to  a  pause  with 
the  machine  and  as  he  sat  by  wondering  what  he  should  write 
next — "How  do  you  explain  your  gift  for  humor?"  I  wanted 
his  reply  of  course  for  the  book  which  he  was  then  writing. 
He  shrank,  at  first,  from  the  question,  but  saw  that  I  was  set 
upon  drawing  him  out  and  so  he  started  off,  with  the  tick 
of  the  typewriter  keeping  him  company  as  he  dictated  the 
foUomng  paragraph: 

"A  friend  has  asked  me  how  I  got  to  be  humorous.  The 
question  hits  me  in  a  new  spot  and  savors  of  the  preposterous. 
There  doea  not  seem  to  be  any  humor  in  me;  it  has  no  place 
in  my  natural  endowments  nor  my  equipments  so  far  as  I  can 
understand.  If  there  is  anything  in  me  that  has  to  do  with 
humor  it  can  hardly  be  inherent  and  at  best  is  nothing  more 
than  a  very  limited  capacity  to  discover  the  humor  of  outside 
ratuations.  There  is  no  enginery  within  me  for  manufacturing 
humor  and  if  it  is  at  all  proper  to  mention  humor  and  me  the 
same  day  it  must  be  because  I  have  a  scant  and  unlocated  gift 
for  discovering  those  conjunctions  in  human  afters  which 
titulate  the  people  and  call  forth  their  laughter." 

Hia  field  glass  swept  the  literary  horizon  in  search  of  a 
striking  title  for  hia  new  book.  He  shied  off  from  such  ex- 
pressions as  "Reminiacences",  or  "Recollections  of  a  long  life" 
and  the  like. 

"As  to  the  title  of  the  book"  he  writes  me  "I  am  still  undeter- 
mined, but  my  mind  settles  on  toward  something  like  theae 
two  or  three.  'Happenings  along  the  way';  'Things  seen  along 
the  road';  'Incidents  along  the  Highway';  'Garnered  as  I 
came';  'The  hindsights  along  the  Way';  'A  Basket  of  Frag- 
ments.' 

"Too  precious  even  to  be  named  were  our  days  of  hidii^ 
and  of  toil  last  week  at  the  Jefferson." 

After  a  hurried  run  back  to  Bichmond  (400  miles)  he  returns 
to  South  Carolina  for  meetii^  at  Saluda,  where  he  writes  to 
One: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


586  LOVING  TRIBTJTES 

"My  eyes  are  better, — that  is,  one  of  them — for  retilly  I 
have  but  one  that  is  of  any  service  and  that  is  aenative  and 
seems  incapable  of  being  helped  by  glasses." 

His  failing  eye  sight  put  no  visible  mark  upon  his  eyes  and 
did  not  at  all  mar  his  countenance.  In  fact  his  wonderfully 
bright  and  sympathetic  eyes  retained  their  luster  and  depth 
to  the  very  end.  In  November  he  wrote  me  concerning  his 
publisher  from  Nashville,  Tenn.,  where  he  was  holding  meet- 
ings at  the  First  Baptist  Church: 

"Revell  and  myself  are  fighting  on  the  deep  blue  sea,  but 
with  no  carnal  weapons  and  with  no  extra  blood  in  our  eye.  He 
simt  me  a  new  arrangement  of  chapters  and  I  am  sendii^  him 
another  recast  which  seems  to  me  more  natural  and  satis- 
factory". 

Invitations  came  to  him  from  the  North  and  West,  as  well 
as  from  the  South,  from  pastoi^  that  he  would  aid  them  in 
meetings.  He  had  promised  to  aid  Dr.  Vichert  at  Fort  Wayne 
and  Dr.  L.  A.  Crandall  of  Minneapolis  durii^  the  winter. 

Dr.  Arthur  Jones  of  Colgate  University  writes  him: 

"But  in  spite  of  all  the  names  you  have  called  me  I  do  love 
you.    Oh,  the  times  we  have  had  together." 

"You  can  never  know  how  you  blessed  me  when  you  were 
here"  writes  Dr.  R.  M.  Inlow,  of  Nashville,  whom  he  had  aided 
in  meetings  in  November." 

In  December  he  held  revival  meeUi^s  in  Washington  for 
Rev.  B.  D.  Gaw  who  thus  writes  concerning  him; 

"It  was  a  benediction  indeed  to  have  this  'father  in  Israel' 
in  our  home.  How  beautiful  and  inspiring  to  see  this  veteran 
soldier  of  the  cross  doing  battle  so  valiantly  for  his  king." 

Hin  friend  Mr.  R.  S.  Barbour,  sent  him  a  handsome  "traveUt^ 
case," — saying  "I  feel  that  the  Baptists  of  Virginia  would  suffer 
an  irrepable  loss  if  the  time  should  come  that  your  health 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


FORT  WAYNE  587 

was  not  sufficient  for  you  to  continue  your  valuable  aid  in  our 
cause." 

The  friend  of  his  soul  Judge  Haralson  of  Alabama  writes 
him  on  Dec.  22Dd : 

"If  I  knew  how  to  express  more  love  and  joy  and  good  wishes 
for  you  I  would  add  it.  Do  you  ever  think  of  me  these 
days?" 

On  Christmas  day  he  writes  to  me  wafting  "millions  of  good 
wishes"  and  adding,  "They  are  so  strong  that  neither  snow  nor 
blizzard  can  chill  thdr  ardor  nor  stay  their  flight." 

My  mother  writes: 

"To  Eldridge  I  would  say  that  I  think  his  father  needs  his 
presence  more  than  he  ever  did.  He  seems  fat  and  strong  and 
does  his  usual  work  but  Elizabeth  and  I  think  we  can  see  traces 
of  old  age  creeping  on  him, — very  naturally  we  should.  He 
wants  children  around  him  all  the  time." 

He  went  to  md  Dr.  J.  F.  Vichert  in  meetings  at  Fort  Wayne, 
Indiana,  but  there  arrived  at  Fort  Wayne  also  a  cold  wave, 
fierce  and  blustering.  It  gave  him  a  shivering  blow.  He  writes 
to  Orie: 

"It  cuts  me  low  to  think  that  after  our  matchless  comrade- 
ship during  Christmas  we  are  now  so  far  apart.  •!  beheve  I 
never  enjoyed  you  so  much. 

"The  thermometer  here  is  skirmishing  with  zero  and  the 
news  is  that  the  North  Pole,  having  been  discovered  and  made 
much  of,  has  decided  to  make  a  pilgrimage  towards  the  eqiifltor." 

'(•■* 

He  usually  smiled  his  difficulties  out  of  court,  but  this  In- 
diana weather  hit  him  from  all  sides. 

"The  snort  of  the  blizzard  ia  in  the  street"  he  writes  me  "and 
his  white  frost  forecasts  yet  greater  severities  than  we  now  have. 
I  am  much  cheered  by  the  outlook  of  the  meeting  though  it  must 
suffer  some  under  the  stress  of  weather. 


D.q'zeaOvGoOt^lc 


S8S  FORT  WAYNE 

"The  Seminary  has  been  brow-besting  and  cajoling  me  f<H- 
a  yeai  to  get  me  to  ^ve  some  Bpeci6c  hdp  in  favor  of  the 
enlat^ed  endowment.  As  usual  I  fall  below  the  mastery  of 
fraternal  appeals  and  I  have  consented  to  ^ve  tb»ii  a  few 
months  aod  with  this  in  view  I  have  called  in  all  other  mgage- 
ment«. 

"Do  pve  Dr.  Dodd  my  love — ^just  bHuards  and  cataracta 
of  it" 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XLI 

1910 

HGBIOirS  BTCKNESe  AT  FORT  WAYNE,  IND.    ARTICLE  ON  "XHE  ORlPra." 

CLOTHES.      LETITER  TO  DR.  C.  H.  RTLAND.      BElSfTTlVQ  TBS 

TITLE.       "aLONO  THE  TRAIL  OY  THE  FRIENDLY  YEARS." 

UESSAGES  ABOUT  HIB  NEW  BOOK. 

About  midnight  on  January  5th,  my  door  bell  rai^  and  a 
telegram  waa  banded  me  from  Fort  Wayne  which  read,  "Your 
father  ill;  come  at  once."  I  started  immediately  and  next 
morning  at  Fort  Wayne  I  foimd  him  utterly  prostrated  by  a 
virulent  attack  of  the  Grippe. 

The  following  letter  from  the  pastor  Dr.  Vichert,  to  his 
daughter  Orie  waa  written  just  before  the  collapse  came: 

"Your  father  reached  Fort  Wayne  late  on  Saturday  night. 
He  preached  most  inspiringly  twice  on  Sunday  and  again  on 
Monday  night.  The  weather  Tuesday  was  excessively  cold 
and,  to  use  his  own  expresmon  "struck  its  blades  into  every 
chink".  .  .  Your  father  is  a  confirmed  and  inveterate 
worker  and  has  no  mercy  on  himself  apparently.  I  am  trying 
to  dow  down  his  pace  a  little  while  he  is  with  me  and  I  have 
posdtivdy  refused  to  take  any  dictation  from  him  today," 

I  remained  with  him  for  several  days  and  then,  upon  per- 
misaon  of  the  Doctor,  we  bundled  him  up  carefully,  stowed  him 
away  in  a  Pullman  apartment  and  I  brought  him  as  far  as 
Baltimore  where,  in  my  home,  we  had  the  pleasure,  for  seven 
weeks,  of  nursing  him  back  to  health.  During  the  journey 
from  Fort  Wayne  he  spent  a  part  of  the  time  while  lying  on  the 
couch  in  dictating  an  article  on  the  Grippe  which  was  published 
688 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


590  ARTICLE  ON  THE  GRIPPE 

in  the  Herald  and  in  this  dictation  be  spoke,  not  only  out  of  a 
full  heart  but  also  out  of  an  aching  body.  The  artjcle  met  high 
praise  from  the  public. 

It  ran  as  follows: 

"Five  times  I  have  fallen  imder  its  deadly  stroke.  Heretofore 
it  has  always  struck  me  in  a  new  place  but  in  a  way  that  all  the 
other  places  felt  the  shock.  This  time  ita  blow  was  Briarean, 
touching  me  at  all  poiDt«  at  the  same  moment. 

"I  have  taken  it  rather  crossly  that  my  family  finds  actu^ 
satisfaction  out  of  my  dckness  when  delirium  comes  on.  They 
take  it  as  a  token  that  the  case  is  not  serious  and  tell  me  that 
I  always  shoulder  forth  my  budget  of  domestic  grievances 
and  exact  summary  adjustments  under  a  thin  deliiious  dis- 
guise. 

"This  time  my  family  lost  the  gaiety  of  the  occaMon,  but 
the  Vicherts,  Dr.  Harrod,  the  trained  nurse  and  the  rest  of  the 
earth  furnished  ample  scope  for  my  pesamistic  fury." 

He  also  tells  how  it  played  havoc  with  his  appetite: 

"My  appetite  lost  its  sense  of  preference.  In  the  former  days 
roast  beef  and  irish  potatoes  made  me  sorry  I  could  not  live 
in  London  so  as  to  get  them  at  their  best  all  the  time;  but 
when  these  two  choice  edibles  were  brought  in  I  waa  as  much 
offended  as  if  the  whole  of  the  Armoiu-  slaughter  house  had  been 
dumped  in  upon  me.    The  taste  of  beef  enraged  my  anatomy. 

"And  so  with  the  Irish  potatoes,  the  most  universal,  the 
most  toothsome,  a  true  cosmopoUte,  at  home  in  every  climate 
and  soil,  good  every  day  and  three  times  a  day,  good  under 
varied  preparations,  of  all  its  kingdom  the  best  to  me;  and  yet 
when  its  fine  old  Savor  saluted  me  on  my  return  to  civilisation 
I  drew  back  with  horror.    My  stomach  cried  out  against  it. 

"On  the  other  hand  there  was  the  orange-— no  favorite  of 
mine;  I  had  a  cultivated  antipathy  set  up  against  the  orai^, 
but  when  I  wearily  awoke  from  my  sxth  knockout  I  employed 
all  the  few  mental  fragments  which  I  brought  back  with  me  in 
scheming  for  oranges.  And  Coffee — delicious,  steaming,  zest- 
ful — how  I  had  loved  it;  how  I  resented  the  publication  in 
reli^ous  papers  of  attacks  upon  coffee  and  encomiums  upon 
such  sniffling  and  fraudulent  substitutes  for  coffee  as  postum — 
(Bah) — and  cocoas.     Imagine  myself,  upon  touching  earth  once 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ARTICLE  ON  THE  GRIPPE  591 

more,  to  find  that  coffee  had  lost  its  charm.  It  looked  as  if  I 
were  coining  back  to  the  earth,  but  not  the  old  happy  earth 
where  I  was  when  the  monster  struck  me. 

"A  secret  telegram  sped  out  of  Fort  Wayne  to  Baltimore 
which,  in  very  short  order,  brought  my  son  Dr.  E.  B,  Hatcher 
to  my  bed  side.  I  remember  that  while  in  London  some  years  ago 
I  chanced  to  find  that  Dr.  J.  P.  Boyce  was  in  the  city  and  very 
ill.  I  made  haste  to  find  him  and,  when  his  daughters  brought 
me  in,  his  face  ran  wet  with  tears  and  grasping  my  hand  he 
Sfud,  'Oh,  Hatcher  your  face  is  the  light  of  Heaven.'  It  is  worth 
something  to  one  sick  far  from  home,  though  never  so  well  at- 
tended, to  have  a  familiar  face, — a  face  behind  which  there  is 
love  uiuneasured, — to  break  suddenly  into  the  sick  room. 

"My  ^ckuess  has  its  irritations  and  its  uncertainties,  but 
when  I  think  of  all  the  health,  travel,  service,  happiness 
and  friendships  which  have  gladdened  my  way  I  take  counsel 
of  my  memory  and  of  my  hope  also,  and  leave  the  present  to 
work  to  its  end. 

"This  crooked  and  disjointed  letter  is  contrary  to  the  order 
of  those  who  have  me  in  hand,  but  I  hop>e  that  not  all  the  people 
will  regret  that  I  got  this  article  in  spite  of  the  doctors  and  the 


He  was  a  model  of  patience  as  he  lay  upon  his  bed  in  Balti- 
more, with  his  doctor  seeking  day  by  day  to  get  him  started 
towards  recovery.  His  strength  seemed  fond  of  the  zero  point 
and  the  physician's  efforts  to  coax  it  upwards  were  unavuUng 
at  first.  The  young  Doctor,  whom  Dr.  Hatcher  eyed  with  many 
a  penetrating  glance  at  first  as  if  he  was  seeking  to  discover 
what  was  on  the  in^de,  went  away  from  each  visit  saying  to 
himself,  "Well  that  is  surely  a  unique  and  wonderful  man.  I 
never  tackled  just  such  a  patient  as  he.  My,  but  he  is  bright!" 
Dr.  Hatcher  became  fond  of  the  yoimg  physician. 

His  publisher  asked  him  to  sign  his  name  on  a  sheet  of  paper 
and  send  it  to  him  as  he  wanted  his  name  [in  his  own  handwriting] 
to  go  in  the  new  book.  From  that  time  he  put  bis  pen  to  work 
and  one  day  we  found  his  bed  and  floor  almost  covered  with 
papers  on  which  he  had  been  writing  his  name.  He  had  a 
habit,  when  sitting  near  a  table,  whether  talking  or  listening, 
of  moving  lus  hand  rapidly  back  and  forth  on  the  table  top  as 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


592  SOME  PERSONAL  TRAITS 

if  be  bad  a  pen  between  his  fingers  Mid  were  writii^  something 
important  and,  even  if  there  iras  no  t^te  near  at  hand,  oftoi 
during  the  conversation  be  would  be  moving  his  fingers  along 
his  knee, — w  in  the  air,  thus  going  through  the  form  of  rapid 
writing.  At  other  times, — wh^i  not  ^>parently  writing — he 
would  tap  with  his  fore-finger  on  the  table  c»-  desk.  He  would 
often  do  these  things  at  the  dining  room  table  and  when  he  was 
not  indulgii^  in  these  two  apparently  unconscious  habits  he 
would  often — though  not  habitually — rattle  his  knife,  or  fork, 
or  spoon  while  he  was  talkii^, — especially  while  wfutJng  be- 
tween courses. '  It  looked  as  if  the  motion  of  the  fingers  of  his 
right  hand  in  some  way  fonned  a  pleasant  accompaniment 
to  his  thoughts  and  his  talking. 

He  yielded  to  the  appeal  from  the  Louisville  Seminary  that 
he  would  lead  tfadr  financial  campaign  in  Virginia  for  raising 
$200,000  and  even  from  liis  sick  bed  he  directed  this  move- 
ment,— selecting  his  lieutenanto  in  the  state  and  orgfmizing 
and  (Greeting  them  in  the  work.  Every  week  he  filled  a  page 
in  the  Herald  with  breezy  items  about  the  campiugn.  One 
and  Edith  hod  (pven  him  a  new  overcoat  and  he  thus  writes  to 
One: 

"Anna  has  conceived  a  cruel  prejudice  agunst  my  old  over- 
coat, but  it  has  a  sort  of  old-oaken-bucket  charm  for  me  and  I 
know  not  exactly  how  to  ^ve  it  up. 

"Eldriifee  wrote  you  a  day  or  two  ago.  I  suppose  he  told 
you  how  I  was  getting  along,  though  if  he  knows  how  I  am 
getting  along  he  knows  better  than  I  do.  I  am  still  thinking 
emptily  about  the  title  for  the  book.  I  drop  two  or  three  here; 
'Paj-ing  court  to  other  Days',  'From  Bedford  to  Careby  Hall'; 
'A  Budget  of  the  Best'. 

"Possibly  by  this  time  you  have  more  suggestions." 

His  attitude  towards  his  old  clothes — and  his  new  ones  as 
well — ^waa  interesting.  At  Careby  the  "old  oaken  bucket 
charm"  seemed  to  linger  around  several  of  his  suits,  which  could 
name — each  of  them — several  birthdays.  He  had  them  folded 
and  kept  in  their  appropriate  places.    It  looked  aa  if  each  gar^ 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


MBiGooi^le 


HIS  CLOTHES  593 

ment  had  for  him  certain  friendly  associations  and  as  the  months 
aped  by  he  would  wear, — now  one  suit  and  now  another.  He 
loved  to  get  clothes, — and  he  would  often  get  the  very  best; 
but  he  seemed  to  have  an  aversion  to  wearing  them,  especially 
at  first.  It  looked  as  if  he  almost  regarded  the  wearit^  of  a  ele- 
gant suit  as  a  degradation  of  it;  at  any  rate  it  was  often  the  case 
that  our  appeal  to  him  to  put  on  his  "fine  suit"  would  be  un- 
av^ling.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  thinking  of  it  as  ceposir^  in  all 
of  its  imdisturbed  splendor  in  his  closet  or  drawer  at  home.  It 
ought  to  be  stated  however  that  one  of  these  elegant  broad 
cloths  was  kept  for  a  sacred  occasion, — viz.,  his  burial.  His 
pride  as  to  his  death  reached  even  to  the  clothes  in  which  his 
body  should  be  clad  in  its  final  abode.  He  looked  his  best  in  a 
black  suit,  which  presented  an  impressive  contrast  to  his  snowy 
white  locks  and  beard.  I  can  see  him  now,  in  memory,  as  he 
■  stood  dressed  in  such  a  suit  one  Sunday  on  the  pulpit  of  the 
Eutaw  Place  Church  in  Baltimore.  He  had  preached  and  Dr. 
Dood,  the  pastor,  was  leading  into  the  baptistry  at  the  side  gf  the 
pulpit  a  candidate  to  be  baptized.  Dr.  Hatcher  had  walked  to 
the  extreme  front  of  the  pulpit  and  was  leaning  slightly  for- 
ward that  he  might  witness  the  ceremony  and  in  his  dark  suit, 
and  with  his  flashing  eye,  his  genial,  animated  face  and  his 
patriarchal  appearance  he  presented  a  picture  that  was  striking 
and — ^to  borrow  the  word  that  was  applied  to  him  on  that  day 
by  another — "beautiful". 

He  had  rec^ved  a  letter  that  gave  his  heart  a  happy  Sutter. 
It  was  from  his  Chinese  boy.  Ah  Fong  who,  after  graduating 
with  honor  at  Eichmond  College,  had  gone  to  New  York  to 
earn  money  with  which  to  enter  Columbia  College  in  New  York, 
In  his  letter,  after  telling  of  his  experiences  in  New  York,  Ah 
Fong  writes: 

"I  am  happy  and  like  this  work  [in  a  Chinese  restaurant]  all 
right  except  with  the  fact  that  I  would  not  be  able  to  see  you 
for  quite  a  long  time.  But  I  think  of  you  every  day;  of  your 
kindness  and  help  to  the  stranger  from  the  Orient.  No,  I  shall 
never  foi^et  you  and  it  will  always  give  me  pleasure  to  remember 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MBiGooi^le 


sptxl  bv  h,  ,  .-J-  »-.jc^.  ,  "-„.--  ~  r  ^'  '»"-»>»mth. 

but  he  s«=i.;  -  ii-.  ,1 1--..  ,  -  ,.^  *  ■  -^^<^h«i; 
at  fiiv-t.  I, ; .  t-  „  -•  ..  ,_-^  ~J^.  ~^  ■^■^  <sil««iiilly 
gant  suit  1,  s  if^-J.^-i  -  .-  ^r '-_=* '^"'f°*  "'•*► 
that  our  ^-.-i;  -  ^  :. "'-,-  ^  t .  ^.-  ■  It  '■"•-»  "«  ■■»« 
availing.  B- w-::^-  •  -^  -  ^  -  -  "*'  ""  '^^J  W  un- 
otitiuici--i.-^-T.-.-,r-'-      "tl-     "    ■  "'"•»■«  in  aU 

ought  to  I*  ^ti^  wi-zrVC  v  r"*^ "'  '"««•  " 
cloth,  ,„  k„-. :.. .  ^.--:-  ~^..t.:l_:r*.'=*f"°',''T' 

pride  .^  to  li  d^-L  ^.^  JT.  -.'^-  ~"  .^■"'^  H» 
body  ,ho..a  ■«  -r:^.;  i  -.  .:,-'  Ji-..^,  "S/--  t^,"?  "i        '"'" 

black  suit.  »hi,b  tT-e^-;;'^J;-L-!i^.  !;;'l     '    "" ' 

white  locks  arid  ?.^arL    I  -a.-  >^  -  ^  .  .,^~  ""     '    's  snowy 

pulpit  a  cane: -la:*  V, -^  "-->-- t^-      t.-  h  -  ■      k  j     »  j 

,.       _^  ,  .    ■      ----■  -^~    J^- H.i.-,(i.a- had  ivalted  to 

the  extreme  Irf,::;  ot  !■--*  -i    -i-   ..-  -  _     i  ■■  i  ,    , 

ward  that  he  trLz:.: -K — ^-i,--,i  ..,,_, j  :.  t-   j   ■     -, 

and  with  his  fi:i.-:-:r^  *-.-^     ■-  *    -^   .     ..  .    .  ^  *  j  i 

-     -    ■   — -    ~     i—  t- --i  ^  lace  Mrf  to 
patnarchal  ariTy^arar. ^  -  ^  -  --_^-  -       ,.  .    .        ■  ^        .  ■,  ■ 
and — to  borrow  tn*  w-  --i  -.^--  Tt*  *—     -  -,  ;  ...^-.t.*  j 
by  another — ■"l>rfi.-:-J:.i:". 

He  had  received  a  >--rrr  --  =-  rn.-.  ■ 


ifl'  flutler. 


It  was  from  hia  C" -n^^-^  -^-     :-   t        _     ^    _j   .■ 
with  honor  at  Rioh=>.t.;  ■'     -.^.    ._.  _, ..  v^  York  lo 
earn  money  with  whi-Lv,  ^-^        ^  .'  ^.^Ve^y^rt. 
In  his  letter,  after  t^:_^    ■■  -_.   ^  .-.^  ,  ,  ;;,  York,  Ah 
rong  wntes: 

"I  ajn  happv  n,-  ", .  ■       _  _  -        _^        .i    .. 

right  e%ccptVi:h-;.-  -    --    r-:;*"™'i«ii 

(or  quite  i  loo,  -=,    \  /,"  'f  ^  .>•"> 

kindness  and  hr-  -,  -_/  -     .  .  1_         .        ij'  "J  J;''" 
never  forEetjocki.  -  ^      -~"    -'.  "       —  -^o,  1  shall  'V^ 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


694  COLEMAN  M 

you  as  my  benefaetor.    .    .    I  am  sorry  to  heas  that  you  are 
sick.    .    .    I  would  like  to  be  there  and  attend  to  you. 

"When  I  first  came  here  the  other  people  had  a  hard  time 
to  explain  themselves  and  I  was  in  the  same  fix.  But  now  I 
could  understand  some  Chinese  and  could  taJk  a  little  already. 
The  Chinese  comes  back  to  me  very  rapidly.  ,  .  With  two 
exceptions  all  the  waiters  are  Chinese  students  who  are  working 
their  way  through  College. 

"I  hope  to  save  at  least  seventy-five  dollars  per  month,  if 
not  more,  so  that  I  may  enter  Columbia  next  Fall.     .     . 
Please  write  to  me  as  a  line  from  you  always  gladdens  my 
heart. 

"Gratefully  Yours, 

"A  Fong  Yeui^." 

The  reader  has  hardly  foi^ott«n  the  orphan  boy,  Coleman 

M ,  whom  Dr.  Hatcher  many  years  before  this,  took 

to  his  heart  and  home  and  sought  to  train  for  noble  manhood. 

At  this  writing  he  is  Dr.  Coleman  M ,  a  very  successful 

surgeon.    He  thus  writes  to  Mrs.  Hatcher: 

"My  Dear  Mrs.  Hatcher, — I  can  never  forget  the  fact 
that  whatever  measure  of  success  I  win  in  my  profession  is  due 
in  large  measure,  to  the  wonderful  kindness,  the  princely 
generosity  and  the  fatherly  lo^e  of  your  dear  husband.  I  often 
think  of  the  dear  happy  days  when  you  played  mother  to  me. 
The  love  and  kindness  of  you  and  Dr.  Hatcher  will  always  re- 
nifUQ  one  of  the  most  cherished  memories  of  my  childhood. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  invitation  to  Careby  and  can  assure 
that  there  is  nothing  that  Nelly  and  I  would  enjoy  more. 

"With  much  love. 

"Coleman." 

One  day  durii^  his  coDvalesc«nce  he  sud,  "Eldridge  get 
your  machine  I  want  to  write  a  letter"  and  as  he  sat  by  my  desk 
he  dictated  the  following  epistle  to  his  friend  of  a  life-time,  Dr. 
Charles  H.  Ryland.  I  took  no  carbon  copy  of  the  letter — but  I 
reahzed  as  I  was  writing  it  for  him  that  I  would  surely  want 
such  a  fine  letter  for  the  bic^aphy  when  I  should  come  to 
write  it  and  so  before  mailing  it  I  made  a  copy  of  it, — ^without 
his  knowledge,  for  I  did  not  wish  him  in  his  letter-writing  to 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LETTER  TO  DR.  C.  H.  RYLAND       595 

have  Ms  mind  confused  with  the  thought  that  he  was  writing 
for  posthumous  publication. 

"Baltihore,  Md.,  Feb.  13,  1910. 
"Dh.  Chas.  H.  Ryland: 

"My  evbrbeloved  Friend, — A  letter  from  Richmond  tells  me 
that  you  are  sick.  It  does  not  indicate  that  your  sickness  is  of 
a  grave  nature,  but  the  fact  that  you  are  out  of  kelter  comes 
home  to  me.  Our  little  College  circle  grows  more  and  more 
pathetic  as  it  shrinks  by  one  loss  after  another  and  those  of  them 
that  are  left  grapple  my  heart  in  a  moat  intense  way.  I  hope 
that  your  sickness  is  not  serious,  that  you  will  soon  be  out  and 
at  it  again  and  that  when  my  dust  is  put  in  its  silent  home  that 
you  will  be  there  as  a  friend  through  all  the  changing  years. 
I  have  found  you  one  always  steadfast,  ever  true  and  constantly 
commanding  my  warmest  affection.  Everything  that  per- 
tains to  you  pleases  me  except  your  sorrows  and  your  burdens 
and  even  them  would  I  gladly  share. 

"I  am  publishing  a  book,— somewhat  of  the  reminiscent  sort. 
The  writing  of  it  and  now  the  correction  of  its  proof,  has  greatly 
revived  my  early  recollections,  both  of  Bedford  and  of  the  col- 
lege and  indeed  of  all  the  intervening  time.  At  so  many  turns 
and  forks  of  the  way  you  come  before  me,  ever  the  same'  honest, 
quiet,  true-souled  Charles  whom  Harvey  and  I  learned  to  love 
in  our  early  college  days.  I  cannot  think  of  Richmond  College 
without  your  figure  and  your  record  ever  breaking  upon  me  and 
the  sight  of  you  is  as  sweet  to  me  as  the  morning  hght  after  a  rest- 
less night.  Your  voice  carries  something  that  always  proves  a 
tonic  to  me  and  while  you  do  not  write  to  me  often,  and  thrai 
in  only  a  busmess  way,  the  sight  of  your  old  handwritii^, 
imchanged  by  a  half-century's  busy  strain  always  brings  good 
cheer. 

"So  my  friend  of  the  »lver  locks  I  greet  you.  I  bid  you 
cherish  Ufe,  keep  an  eye  on  your  limitations  and  continue  to 
Uve.  For  you  and  your  family  my  soul  riots  with  good  wishes. 
Your  home  in  many  ways  has  been  ideally  beautiful  in  my  eyes 
and  I  think  I  can  truly  say  I  never  entered  its  doors  without 
feeling  the  better  for  it. 

"This  letter  is  not  intended  to  deal  with  my  own  case, 
and  yet  you  will  wish  to  know  how  it  goes  with  me.  I 
am  paying  the  penalty  of  an  overstrained  life.  Last 
year  I  preached  about  275  sermons  and  delivered  not 
much  leas  than  100  addresses  of  one  sort  and  another,  not  in- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


596       LETTER  TO  DR.  C.  H.  RYLAND 

eluding  after-talks  in  revivals  after  my  sermons.  Besides  I 
wrote  the  biggest  part  of  the  material  for  my  350  page  book, 
canvassed  for  the  Seminary  and  for  the  Academy,  besides  eon- 
ducting  the  correspondence  for  the  Academy.  Of  course  it 
was  too  much;  it  brought  on  eciema  and  then  came  my  attack 
of  La  Grippe  and  the  Doctor  and  my  trained  nurse  and  my  ever 
devoted  children  in  Baltimore  are  trying  to  nurse  me  back  to 
my  old  vigor.  Thus  far  they  have  done  admirably  well  and 
but  for  the  fierce  and  pitiless  Baltimore  weather,  I  think  I 
would  be  about  ready  to  take  my  staff  and  journey  back  to  old 
Vii^inia.  I'd  like  to  come,  earth  has  no  spot  so  sacred  to  me  as 
Virginia,  for  I  know  it  so  well  that  I  almost  imagine  it  is  a 
sin^espot.  I  would  like  to  come  back  to  get  the  healing 
efficacy  of  your  smile,  to  see  Bagby,  to  see  Shipman,  to  see 
Charley  Hemdon,  to  see  Lake,  to  see  Boatwright  and  of  course 
to  see  Careby  Hall  and  all  that  it  implies.  Edith  and  One  run 
down  from  Bryn  Mawr  as  if  they  were  umply  over  in  the 
woods  beyond  the  branch  and  when  they  do  not  come,  they 
do  other  things  almost  as  invigorating  and  consoling.  I  have 
written  you  a  long  letter,  longer  I  fear  than  you  arc  willing  to 
read,  but  read  enough  of  it  to  know  that  old  W.  E,  of  the  long 
ago  still  carries  Charles  in  his  heart.  We  know  not  what  the 
future  holds  for  us;  but  how  great  and  gracious  the  outputs 
of  Heaven  have  been  to  us  in  the  past  and  still  are  and  we  need 
not  fear  that  the  Bread  of  life  will  run  short  nor  that  the  oil  of 
Salvation  will  give  out.  The  big  part  of  it  ail  I  humbly  trust 
and  believe  for  you  and  me  is  yet  to  come. 

"W.  E.  Hatcher." 

It  was  during  his  convalescent  period  that  be  had  the  pleasant 
wran^e  about  th«  title  of  his  new  book*  of  Reminiscences.  He 
selected  as  the  title  "The  Song  of  the  Trail"  and  seemed  to 
think  that  in  that  title  he  had  discovered  a  jewel  of  the  first 
water.  But  scarcely  anyone  of  us  liked  it.  But  he  clung  to  it, 
and  defended  it  from  all  attacks  and  plead  its  cause  strongly. 
He  finally  gave  up  the  battle, — I  think  with  much  regret,  thoi^ 
he  did  not  say  so.  He  declared  that  he  must  at  least  retfua  the 
word  "Trail";  so  he  finally  worked  up  the  title  "Aloi^  the  trail 
of  tiie  years";  and  then  he  wanted  a  word  to  go  with  "trail" 
and  we  thought  of  the  adjectives  "happy"  and  "busy"  and 
others  were  thought  of.    We  had  lively  times  around  bis  bed 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHOOSING  THE  TITLE  597 

balancing  words,  bunting  through  the  dictionary  and  discusring 
the  different  titles.  At  last  the  word  "friendly"  seemed  to 
please  him  greatly  and  the  title  then  read,  "Along  the  tnul  of 
the  friendly  years,"  and  he  took  his  stand  upon  that.  A  help- 
ful counselor  in  our  discussions  was  Dr.  C.  H.  Dodd. 

Next  came  a  genial  wrangle  with  his  publisher — when  he  sent 
him  the  title.  Mr.  Revell  did  not  like  the  word  "friendly" 
as  well  as  the  words  "long"  or  "active".  He  thought  the  title 
would  sound  better  reading  either,  "Along  the  trtul  of  the  long 
years",  or  "Along  the  trail  of  the  active  years"  and  he  wrote 
Dr.  Hatcher  to  this  effect.  In  reply  Dr.  Hatcher  wrote  the 
following  letter  which  Mr.  Revell  wa^  so  much  pleased  with 
that  he  sent  it  for  use  in  this  memoir.  In  this  letter  Dr.  Hatcher 
tells  why  he  does  not  hke  the  titles  "Along  the  tr^l  of  the  active 
years"  and  "Along  the  trail  of  the  long  years," : 

"BALTrwoHE,  Md.,  Feb.,  16th  1910. 
"Mr.  Paul  Moody: 

"My  Dear  Mr.  Moody, — Your  courteous  letter  came  today. 
I  did  not  wire  you  because  I  needed  a  little  more  time  for  re- 
flection, I  feel  that  the  matter  must  be  settled  and  I  wish  what 
I  say  to  be  final  and  yet  leaving  to  Mr.  Revell  some  margin 
for  the  exercise  of  his  judgment  at  the  last  moment. 

"The  two  titles  which  Mr,  Revell  suggests  differ  only  in  the 
word  'long'  and  the  word  'active'.  The  6rat  betokens  age  and 
is  not  inspiring;  the  second  implies  my  industry  and  activity 
and  has  something  of  the  self-complimentary  about  it.  I 
think  of  my  life  not  as  an  output  so  much  as  the  product  of 
God's  productive  grace,  I  for^t  the  things  that  are  behind 
so  far  as  they  celebrate  me.  I  would  prefer  therefore  as  the 
title  'ALONG  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  FRIENDLY  YEARS.' 

"It  has  in  it  the  suggestion  of  the  helpfulness  of  the  world 
and  the  providence  of  God  as  I  have  come  along  the  way  and 
besides  it  is  not  commonplace. 

"With  this  statement,  I  put  my  last  suggestion  in  a  bunch 
with  Mr.  Uevell's  two,  with  the  agreement  that  he  will  use  that 
adjective  of  the  three  which  you  and  he  are  fully  convinced  ia 
best,  bearing  in  mind  my  preference  strongly  expressed,  but 
yielded  if  you  are  convinced  that  it  would  be  better  for  the 
book.     Between  'long'  and  'active'   I  would  prefer   'long". 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


598  RETURN  TO  VIRGINIA 

I  bsve  never  mentacmed  the  subject  of  a  foreword  beeanae  I  do 
not  care  about  it.  I  would  be  ^ad  to  dedicate  tbe  book  to  my 
80D  unless  your  house  has  some  decided  prejudice  in  the  matter 
of  dedications.  I  inclose  the  form  of  dedication  which  you  wiU 
oblige  me  by  using.  You  expressed  a  purpose  to  put  my  auto- 
graph on  the  front  outaide  page.  I  prefer  to  send  you  a  copy  and 
will  do  so  at  once. 

"Very  Snceidy, 

"W.  E.  Hatcher." 

He  decided  upon  his  tack  bed  that  he  would  leave  for 
Virginia  on  a  certain  day  and  when  that  day  arrived — to  our 
dismay — be  went.  We  did  not  at  first  take  seriously  his  dis- 
ci^on  to  go  on  the  early  date  and  we  had  much  pleasant  cross 
firing  on  the  subject;  but  our  remonstrances  and  our  uplifted 
bands  and  honor  stricken  faces  were  unavailii^.  I  went  with 
him  to  Richmond  where  he  plunged  at  oace  into  his  woi^  for 
tbe  Seminary, — sick  though  he  was.  He  seemed  determined 
to  crowd  as  much  labor  into  his  remaining  days  as  posable: 

"He  is  quite  cheerful  today"  writes  my  mother  from  Careby 
Hall.  "I  hear  him  whistling  as  he  is  packing.  He  seems  to  be 
nearly  through  with  the  proof  (of  his  new  book].  He  cannot 
work  without  getting  tired.  I'm  grieved  to  see  him  lose  his 
flesh,  as  I  know  you  will  be.  You  had  better  keep  up  with  him 
in  Petersbui^.  Tell  him  to  write  you  how  he  is,  if  he  gets  the 
attention  he  needs,  etc. 

"Of  course  it  looks  cruel  almost  to  see  a  sick  man  travel  and 
work,  but  I  do  not  think  we  can  keep  him  in  and  I  do  not  know 
that  it  would  be  beat.  The  best  thing  seems  to  be  for  us  to 
keep  up  with  him;  get  him  to  keep  to  his  medicines  and  not 
overwork," 

He  writes  from  Richmond,  "I  find  it  a  tough  buaness  to  get 
back  my  old  and  enduring  vitality.  Dr.  MuUins  says  that 
I  must  not  take  collections  or  do  personal  canvassing  for  the 

Seminary  but  I  am  at  least  going  out  to  B [a  country 

chureh]  tomorrow  and  seek  to  baomier  that  Pharasaic  little 
band  into  benevolent  shape."  He  was  cheered  by  a  jovial 
letter  from  his  friend,  Dr.  Arthur  Jones  of  Colgate  Universi^: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


PETERSBURG 

"Sunday,  as  I  was  going  to  Church,  President  X— 


came  up.  Said  he,  'I  received  a  letter  from  a  young  friend  of 
mine  the  other  day  and  he  said  to  give  his  love  to  you,'  'And 
who  was  that?'  aaid  I.  'Willie  Hatcher'  says  he.  And  so  it 
came  safely.    Thanks,  very  much.    But  I  never  let  on  that  I 

had  earlier  heard  from  Br'er  Hatcher.     So  X goes 

along  aa  chesty  as  you  please  thinking  he's  the  only  man  on  the 
job  who  gets  letters  from  'The  gentleman  from  Virginia'.    Oh 

well,  X is  aM  right.    He's  got  religion;  that's  what's 

the  matter  with  him.  Say,  but  he  gave  us  a  noble  sermon  a 
week  ago  Sunday.  It  was  great.  No  mincing  matters.  Christ 
is  Cod.  That's  his  creed;  and  he  wants  the  folks  to  know  it. 
"Oh,  dear  brother  that  memory  [of  the  mtetings  of  1908] 
is  very  sweet  and  precious  to  many  hearts  in  Hamilton.  .  . 
I  am  entirely  satisfied  that  you  never  did  such  preaching  be- 
fore or  since." 

He  writes  on  April  20th  from  Petersburg  where  he  was  hold- 
ii^  meetings  that  he  was  not  very  well.  "But"  said  he  "I 
am  thankful  that  I  can  work  at  least  a  little  in  the  service  of  the 
Lord."    On  the  23rd  he  writes  from  Petersburg: 

"I  finished  up  my  Sunday  School  lessons  this  afternoon  and 
mailed  them — a  happy*  event  .  .  Indeed  the  folks  are  going 
on  rediculously  about  your  scrappy  old  father  but  it  will  wear 
off.  Crowds  come  to  the  meetings.  .  .  Dedications  are 
piling  up  on  me.  If  my  memory  can  he  trusted  I  have  nine 
engagements. 

"I  am  really  in  doubt  about  the  Convention  [at  Baltimore  in 
May]  I  am  far  from  well  and  my  strength  quickly  wears  out. 
I  really  fear  it  will  end  my  life  to  go  through  all  of  it  and  my 
present  thought  is  to  come  for  the  Trustee  [Seminary]  meet- 
ing, see  the  opening  and  fade  out  at  the  moment  when  my 
vitality  goes  down.    But  never  mind  as  to  this." 

During  these  meetii^  at  the  First  Baptist  Church  in  Peters- 
burg and  while  in  his  weak  condition  he  not  only  prepared  his 
S.  S.  lessons  but  did  his  final  work  on  his  new  book,  "Along  the 
Trail  of  the  Friendly  Years".     Dr.  Taylor,  the  pastor,  says: 

"The  last  chapters  of  that  book  were  prepared  for  the  printer 
in  my  Petersburg  study.     We  spent  the  forenoons  revising 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


600  HIS  NEW  BOOK 

the  mannacript  and  coireeting  the  pnmf .  BMppiet  boors  I 
have  posably  never  seat.  Whoi  we  read  toother  for  the  last 
tbne  the  last  chapter  of  the  manuscript,  before  wn^iping  it  for 
the  publiaber,  both  were  in  tears.  During  tliat  same  revival 
meeting  we  also  prepared  t^^ther  a  goodly  number  of  the 
Sunday-School  lessens  for  the  Southern  Baptist  Teacher.  I 
was  an  e:q>ert  with  the  t>'pewriter  and  your  father  would  walk 
the  floor  and  dictate  and  thus  working  together  our  moroing 
tasks  were  a  mutual  ddight  and  to  me  they  have  l^t  life-kntg 
bles  " 


At  the  close  of  the  meetings  he  writes  to  One,  "I  am  not 
in  good  shape,  by  any  means,  and  am  crushed  by  many  burdais" 
He  seemed  almost  p^ofully  perplexed  about  comii^  to  the 
Baltimore  Convention.  From  Careby  Hall  he  writes  me  on 
May  2nd: 

"My  weakness  has  been  pitiable  and  the  tho<^t  of  the 
Convention  terrifies  me.  If  I  come  it  must  be  for  only  a 
fragment  of  time.  I  want  to  be  there  for  two  or  three  things 
but  an  overstrain  would  kill  me." 

He  came  to  the  Convention,  remained  two  days,  was  bu^ 
about  many  denominational  matters,  retiuned  to  Fork  UnicHi 
and  a  few  days  later  was  in  Louisville  for  a  conference  m  con- 
nection with  the  Seminary. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  his  new  book  bearing  the  title  "Al<mg 
the  Trail  of  the  Friendly  Years"  made  its  public  appearance. 
He  had  his  first  sight  of  the  book  as  we  were  walking 
through  the  book  room  at  the  Convention  in  Baltimore.  He  was 
of  course  anxious  regarding  the  reception  which  the  book  would 
receive  from  the  public.  In  a  few  days  the  messages  b^au  to 
come  in.  "I  began  reading  it  one  night  and  could  not  let  go 
until  the  morning"  writes  Dr.  P.  T.  Hale.  Dr.  Prestridge 
writes  that  he  had  read  the  book  "with  eager  impetuodty 
and  in  tears"  and  then  adds,  "Take  good  care  of  yourself 
honored  brother.  You  are  too  valuable  to  the  Denomination 
for  you  to  be  careless."  In  a  steady  stream,  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  there  flowed  in  to  him  letters  from  those  who  had  read 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  NEW  BOOK  601 

the  book  and  received  tight  and  blessiiig  from  it.  The  closii^ 
years  of  his  life  were  brightened  by  assurances  that  came  to  him 
from  every  direction  of  the  cheer  and  help  that  his  book  had 
^ven.  They  reached  him  not  only  through  the  mail,  but  be 
met  them  on  the  trains  and  almost  wherever  he  went. 

Let  us  open  the  volume  and  make  an  effort  to  dis- 
cover its  charm.  It  possessed  many  attractive  features, — 
such  OS  its  sparkling  style,  its  gleams  of  wit  and  humor,  its 
singularly  interesting  short  stories  and  the  striking  personality 
and  history  of  the  author;  but  it  was  not  these  qualities  that 
gave  the  book  its  power  over  the  reader.  The  distinguishing 
feature  of  the  work  was  the  rich  spiritual  note  that  sounded 
out  clearly  through  the  volume.  The  book  ministered  to  the 
heart  as  well  as  to  the  brain.  It  stands  for  a  particular  truth, 
and  that  is  that  the  old  fashioned  doctrines  of  grace  will  saUsfy 
the  human  heart  in  this  modem  age  as  it  did  in  the  former  days. 
But  think  not  reader  that  Dr.  Hatcher  fills  his  book  with 
disquisitions  on  that  theological  subject.  The  chapters  treat 
of  his  own  many-sided  career  and  do  this  in  popular  fashion, 
with  wit,  sarcasm,  satire  and  humor  combined  with  the  pathetic 
and  the  tragical.  He  makes  no  effort  to  preach;  but  the  sun- 
light is  in  every  chapter  and  the  truth  gleams  along  every 
page  and  the  story  of  his  Ufe,  in  some  way,  shows  the  triimiphs 
of  the  old  gospel,  and,  to  many,  the  chapters  have  been  like 
music  of  the  olden  days  breaking  out  again  In  their  souls. 

A  very  interesting  interchange  of  letters  bearii^  on  this 
feature  of  the  book  occured  between  Dr.  Hatcher  and  Dr.  J.  F. 
Vichert,  the  present  pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church  of 
Providence,  R.  I.  This  gentleman  had  written  Dr.  Hatcher 
asking  him  if  he  thought  that  "the  good  old  times"  which  are 
pictured  in  the  book  could  be  repeated  in  these  later  days, — 
whether  the  spiritual  experiences  "so  wonderful  and  rich  in 
heavenly  influence"  which  the  author  had  had  in  his  revival 
meetings  could  be  expected  under  modem  conditions. 

"There  are  things  in  the  book"  writes  Dr.  Vichert  "which 
bring  tJie  tears  as  one  reads.    I  feel  as  if  I  would  f^ve  my  right 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


602  HIS  NEW  BOOK 

hand  to  see  something  like  it  now.  In  my  own  boyhood  I 
witnessed  some  such  scenes,  but  not  for  many  a  day  have  I 
seen  anything  of  the  kind.  Are  such  things  possible,  or  prob- 
able, in  the  atmosphere  in  which  we  live.  .  .  The  reading 
of  your  book  kindled  afresh  a  longing  to  see  again  something 
like  what  you  there  describe." 

Dr.  Hatcher's  reply  was  full  and  will  repay  very  cardul 
reading. 

"Fork  Union,  Vibginu,  July  13,  1910. 

"Dh.  J.  F.  ViCHERT, 

"Fort  Wayne,  Ind,: 

"My  Beloved  Friend, — Your  letter  finds  me  overwhebned 
by  work,  but  it  is  so  sweet  and  refreshing  in  its  spirit,  and  you 
will  BO  soon  be  hiding  yourself  in  the  blessful  recesses  of  Canada, 
that  I  must  stop  the  singing  bands  and  the  busy  hum  of  my 
wheels  to  make  a  grateful  bow  to  you  for  being  the  admirable 
brother  that  you  are. 

"I  was  not  at  all  imconscious  of  a  change  in  the  spiritual 
atmosphere  in  the  christian  world  when  I  wrote  my  book,  and  I 
foresaw  plainly  enough  that  what  I  wrote  would  be  an  anach- 
ronism to  some,  a  puzzle  to  others  and  possibly  food  for  re- 
flection for  others.  I  have  been  beaten  upon  by  many  changes 
in  the  atraoaphere  of  the  world  in  which  I  live  since  I  was  a 
small  boy,  but  I  never  thought  that  these  changes  indicated 
or  foretold  any  particular  changes  in  the  world  itself.  It  does 
look  as  if  we  are  living  a  good  deal  closer  to  the  spiritual  north 
pole  than  many  of  us  did  some  years  ago;  but  that  does  not 
abate  my  confidence  in  the  spiritual  equator.  As  for  myself, 
I  wrote  out  of  myself — that  was  the  purpose  of  the  book.  I 
told  of  spiritual  tilings  as  I  saw  them,  and  felt  them,  and  be- 
lieved them,  and  I  expected  that  some  would  remand  my  et- 
periences  to  primal  times  and  mark  me  a  reli^ous  hayseed. 
That  I  was  willing  to  have  done,  though  I  have  been  quite 
surprised  to  find  that  some  of  the  very  best  book  critics  have 
been  among  the  most  favorable  in  commenting  on  the  ex- 
perimental parts  of  my  book.  They  seem  wilUng  to  vote  what 
I  say  as  genuine  Uterature  and  that  on  the  ground  that  I 
write  about  real  things.  They  say  that  I  touch  hfe  at  one  point 
and  others  touch  it  at  other  points,  but  that  there  is  reaUty 
and  hterary  value  in  the  way  I  express  myself,  just  as  Holmes 
and  Emerson  produced  Uterature  in  teUing  their  experiences 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  NEW  BOOK  603 

at  the  points  where  they  touched  life.  Not  that  I  am  banking 
in  any  great  way  on  the  Uterary  value  and  permanency  of  my 
book.  It  is  simply  a  thesaurus  into  which  I  have  collected 
some  of  my  living  memories;  as  to  what  posterity,  or  even 
posterity's  present  ancestors,  may  decide  about  the  book  ia  a 
question  I  have  never  thought  about. 

"I  do  not  know  at  all  that  there  will  ever  be  a  return  of  the 
exact  spiritual  conditions  under  which  I  have  enacted  my  little 
part  in  the  nunistry.  I  see  plainly  enough  the  change  in  the 
wind,  tor  while  the  wind  is  blowing  I  feel  that  the  sense  of  divine 
power  among  christian  people  is  evidently  lessening,  and  there 
ia  a  restless  and  nervous  appeal  to  secondary  causes  to  make 
up  for  the  simple  and  unmistakable  presence  of  God  which  we 
used  to  have.  We  must  wait  for  another  spiritual  r&-adju8t- 
ment,  and  it  must  inevitably  come — sure  as  we  live  under  the 
dispensation  of  the  Spirit,  Exactly  what  it  will  be  when  it  does 
come  in  its  manifestations,  I  cannot  foretell,  but  it  must  at 
least  contain  as  distinct  and  reverential  recognition  of  the 
Spirit's  activity  in  forwarding  the  kingdom  of  God  as  there  has 
ever  been  in  the  past. 

"But  I  write  mainly  to  say  a  word  about  you,  I  believe  in 
you  with  an  almighty  faith,  I  think  that  I  had  discovered  be- 
fore your  letter  came  some  vagueness  in  your  spiritual  feehng. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  you  did  not  quite  have  an  old-fashioned 
stand-point  and  did  not  see  in  the  present  situation  enough  to 
feel  that  you  had  an  adequate  substitute  for  what  I  have  seemed 
to  have.  I  thought  that  you  were  not  very  well  satisfied  with 
what  you  did  have  and  had  a  wish  that  you  had  what  I  have 
had  though  you  vaguely  suspected  that  what  I  had  had  was 
out  of  date  and  could  not  be  even  galvanized  into  any  sort  of 
life  now.  God  is  with  you  as  you  are,  and  I  think  His  power 
will  work  through  you  just  as  effectively  as  that  power  ever 
worked  through  me,  or  as  you  could  ever  work  if  you  had  the 
power  which  my  book  indicates  that  I  had. 

"Be  up  and  at  it,  my  noble  friend.    You  are  the  chosen  of  the 
Lord  beyond  all  doubt,  and  I  love  you,  and  rejoice  in  you,  and 
pray  for  you,  and  expect  great  things  of  you.  Go  on  into  the 
woods  of  Canada  and  do  all  you  can. 
"Very  Sincerely, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

He  had  a  curious  experience  in  a  western  city,  where  he  went 
to  bold  revival  meetii^.    He  tells  of  it  in  hia  new  book.    The 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


604  HIS  NEW  BOOK 

pastor  whom  he  was  aiding  in  the  meetings  suddenly  infonned 
him  that  he  did  not  favor  the  "old  fashioned  doctrines"  which 
he  was  then  preaching.  The  incident  with  its  sequels  bears 
BO  strongly  upon  the  above  correspondence  with  Dr.  Vichert 
u)d  upon  his  new  book  that  we  ^ve  some  of  the  detfuls. 

Dr.  Hatcher  in  his  new  book  thus  tells  his  experience  with  the 
unsympathetic  pastor  m^itioned  above: 

"He  was  a  brother  of  great  learning  and  of  theolo^cal  views 
so  advanced  that  they  had  gotten  out  of  sight  of  my  doctrinal 
opinions.  I  found  the  atmosphere  quite  frosty  upon  my  arrival 
and  my  first  meeting  with  the  pastor,  while  courtly  and  hos- 
pitable on  his  part  was  not  notably  enthusiastic." 

An  embarrassing  conversation  occured  between  the  two 
later  on : 

"He  told  me  that  he  had  heard  me  in  several  services  and  he 
felt  constrained  to  t€ll  me  that  my  method  of  theological  state- 
ment was  not  adapted  to  his  congregation — that  the  old  dog- 
matic way  of  stating  the  gospel  was  effete  and  had  lost  its 
power  and  that  he  could  not  see  any  outlook  for  the  meeting. 
"I  told  him  with  utmost  good  humor,  that  I  had  evidently 
been  brought  there  under  a  misapprehension  and,  as  he  bad 
not  seen  or  heard  me  before  I  came,  I  readily  acquitted  him  of 
all  blame  for  whatever  had  been  done.  I  said  to  him  also  that 
it  would  be  altogether  impossible  for  me  to  recast  my  theology, 
or  my  methods  of  doctrinal  statement,  so  as  to  fit  into  his 
meeting  and  that  we  would  have  to  face  the  question  as  to  what 
ought  to  be  done  and  that  I  would  cordially  leave  it  to  him  to 
decide  the  question. 

"He  left  it  to  me,  evidently  supposing  that  I  would  bow  my- 
self out.  .  .  When  I  got  away  fltnn  my  candid  and  frigid 
brother  I  fell  back  on  my  old  theology  and  concluded  that  I  would 
talk  with  the  Lord  about  it  and  I  was  old  fashioned  enough  to 
tell  my  Divine  Master  that  I  was  in  a  predicament.  I  told  him 
that  the  Gospel  that  I  had  been  preaching  had  worked  mod- 
erately well  where  I  had  gone  along  and  that  I  would  be  wonder- 
fully glad  to  try  it  right  there — indeed  to  put  it  on  its  mettle  and 
see  whether  it  had  lost  its  power,  telling  him  of  course  that 
if  it  was  His  will  that  I  should  beat  a  retreat,  to  soimd  his 
trumpet  and  I  would  take  to  my  heda." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  NEW  BOOK       -  605 

He  then  tells  of  the  meetii^s,  how  th^  grew  to  a  glorious 
cUmax  and  then  he  coDtinues: 

"I  can  say  with  all  truth  that  I  harbored  no  resentment 
against  the  pastor.  I  believed  that  we  were  so  far  apart  intel- 
lectually and  temperamentally  that  he  was  thoroughly  sin- 
cere and  besides  I  was  so  inexpressibly  thankful  to  the  Lord 
that  He  did  not  have  quite  so  mean  an  opinion  of  me  as  the 
pastor  did  that  I  walked  the  mountain-tops.  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  ever  had  such  strength  and  bliss  as  that  meeting  brought 
me,  though  I  think  I  might  have  enjoyed  it  a  fraction  more  if 
there  had  beeb  just  a  few  others  who  knew  what  had  passed 
between  the  pastor  and  myself." 

It  waa  one  more  triumph  of  the  "old  gospel" — so  called — 
which  in  his  case  was  ever  new  in  its  rich  manifestations.  The 
above  incident  had  several  sequels.    He  continues  (in  his  book) : 

"Let  me  add  that  sometime  afterwards  I  went  back  and 
preached  a  plain  old  tjme  experimental  sermoi)  at  the  same 
place,  and  in  the  hearing  of  the  pastor,  and  after  it  was  over 
he  came  and  said  some  of  the  most  gracious  things  about  the 
sermon  expressing  his  assured  belief  that  it  would  be  of  great 
service  to  the  people." 

"Then,  perhaps  a  dozen  years  afterwards,  I  preached  again 
in  his  presence  and  preached  with  little  chaise  in  my  doctrinal 
standpoint,  or  in  my  method  of  expresKon  and,  at  the  same 
time  also  he  was  kind  enough  to  say  some  things  which  I  think 
I  would  characterize  favorably  enough  by  calling  them  com- 
pUments. 

"I  think  we  got  closer  together  through  the  lapsing  years. 
His  candor  did  me  actual  good,  though  I  could  hardly  imagine 
that  my  ^mple  preaching  could  have  had  much  in  it  to  enrich 
his  lofty  and  scholarly  life.  Possibly  our  paths,  as  they  were 
coming  nearer  to  the  eternal  world,  were  getting  closer  to- 
gether and  closer  to  the  redeemer  and,  in  those  good  ways, 
bringiag  us  closer  to  each  other." 

The  above  story  was  published  in  his  book  "Along  the  Trail 
of  the  Friendly  Years",  in  May  1910  and  soon  afterwards 
another  chapter  in  the  story — unpublished — occurred.  The 
above-mentioned  pastor  read  the  paragraphs  in  the  "Along  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


606  HIS  NEW  BOOK 

Tnul",  aod  recc^nizii^;  himaelf  in  the  narrative  he  wrote  a  let- 
ter to  Dr.  Hatcher  who  thus  refers  to  the  letter  in  the  following 
communication  to  me: 

"P.  8. — ^I  have  just  op»ied  my  mail.    You  remember  how 

the  pastor  at  D-— treated  me  when  I  went  there  for  a 

revival.  He  told  me  I  did  not  suit  etc.  I  have  just  received 
a  loi^  letter  from  hini  in  which  he  had  all  sorts  of  things  to 
say  about  the  book  and  makes  a  clean  confession  as  to  the 
mistake  that  he  made  testifying  beyond  all  expression  in  favor 

of  my  work  at  X^ ■  and  expressing  the  feeling  that  my 

book  baa  in  it  a  b«iediction  for  every  christian  minister.  In 
some  respects  it  is  the  most  siuprisi^  letter  I  ever  rec^ved.  I 
will  show  it  to  you  later." 

The  letter  reads  as  foUows: 

"De4r  Fbcend, — We  have  been  greatly  pleased  by  the 
perusal  of  your  book,  "Along  the  Trail  of  the  Friwidly  Years" — 
especially  as  it  describes  your  very  peculiar  experience  at 
D ;  for  the  good  work  done  by  you  here  is  still  wit- 
nessed to  in  its  effects  and  remembered  with  gratitude  by 
many. 

"I  shall  never  foiget  your  patience  with  our  coldness  and 
final  triumph  over  it.  .  .  But  the  stirring  stories  of  your 
evatt^elistic  labors  and  success  appeal  to  me  with  peculiar 
force.  I  wish  that  every  minister  of  the  Gospel — espedally 
the  younger  men— might  feel  the  pressure  of  such  testimony 
to  the  power  of  divine  grace  as  your  record  renders.  lotel- 
lectualism  and  formalism  arc  the  baleful  Labilities  of  our  pro- 
fession now.  The  churches  are  suffering  because  of  the  lack 
of  spirituality. 

"The  story  of  your  life  will  revive  thar  ffuth  in  the  reality 
and  ampUcity  of  the  'power  of  God  unto  salvation'. 
"With  kind  regards." 

Dr.  Hatcher  wrote  a  kindly  reply,  cloong  as  foUowa: 

"Your  letter  did  me  good  in  many  ways  and  kindled  in  me 
ft  love  for  you  which  I  am  sure  will  not  <he  in  this  world  nor  in 

the  other.    You  have  had  a  long  stay  at  D and  1  have 

no  doubt  you  have  done  much  good." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  NEW  BOOK     607 

These  pages  will  not  permit  copious  extracta  from  his  new 
book,  but  a  few  other  selecti<Bis  are  made  in  order  that  the 
reader  may  form  an  idea  of  the  style  in  which  the  volume  is 
written. 

In  his  chapter  on  "Sitting  in  the  Ashes"  he  tells  of  the  woe 
and  desolation  that  broke  upon  his  town  of  Manchester  at  the 
surrender  of  Lee  and  the  fall  of  the  Southern  Confederacy. 
He  then  paints  the  picture  of  the  Southern  army  and  the  two 
Northern  armies  passing  through  Manchester  on  their  way 
home  for  disbanding  and  then  he  adds: 

"But  I  saw  another  sight,  in  connection  with  Richmond's 
fall,  which  I  confess  thrilled  me  a  thousand  times  more  than 
all  the  glory  of  all  the  victorious  armies  of  the  republic.  It  was 
a  spectacle  that  broke  upon  me  most  unexpectedly ;  it  came  while 
the  heavens  were  black  with  storm  and  the  streets  were  wild 
with  flooding  rains. 

"What  I  saw  was  a  horseman.  His  steed  was  bespattered 
with  mud  and  his  head  hung  down  as  if  worn  by  long  traveling 
The  horaemau  sat  his  horae  like  a  master;  his  face  was  ridged 
with  self-respecting  griefs;  his  garments  were  worn  in  the  service 
and  stained  with  travel;  liis  hat  was  slouched  and  spotted 
with  mud  and  only  another  unknown  horseman  rode  with  liim, 
as  if  for  company  and  for  love.  Even  in  the  fleeting  momeht 
of  his  passing  by  my  gate  I  was  awed  by  his  incomparable 
dignity.  His  majestic  composure,  his  rectitude  and  his  sorrow 
were  so  wrought  and  blended  into  his  visage,  and  were  so 
beautiful  and  impressive  to  my  eyes,  that  I  fell  into  violent 
weeping.  To  me  there  was  only  one  where  this  one  was;  there 
could  be  only  one  that  day  and  that  one  was  still  my  own 
revered  and  cherished  leader,  stainless  in  honor,  resplendent 
asxd  immortal  even  in  defeat,  my  own,  my  peerless  chieftun, 
Robert  E.  Lee. 

"In  that  lone  way,  in  the  midst  of  rain  and  mire,  with  no 
crowds  to  h^l  htm,  with  no  resounding  shouts  to  welcome  him, 
with  no  banners  flapping  about  him,  did  he  come  back  from 
disastrous  war.  But  Ah;  we  did  not  know.  Conquered  and 
solitary  he  was,  but  yet  he  wore  invisible  badges  of  victory; 
he  carried  spoils  of  conquest  and  honor  which  could  never 
fail  and  in  every  step  of  his  sad  moving  he  was  marching  for- 
ward to  take  his  place  in  the  palace  courts  of  universal  fame." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


608     EXTRACTS  FEOM  HIS  NEW  BOOK 

As  an  example  of  a  different  type  at  literature  is  the  follow- 
ing selection  from  his  chapter  on  "Shreds  of  a  Trana-atUntic 
Outii^."  When  he  went  across  the  eea  he  cMried  in  his  pocket 
"a  fonnidable  letter  of  introduction"  to  a  Mr.  John  C.  Graham 
of  Glasgow,  Scotland.  He  called  at  Mr.  Graham's  residence 
upon  landing  at  Glasgow,  but  the  gentleman  was  out  (A  the 
city.  Dr.  Hatcher  arrived  again  at  Gla^ow  on  the  day  be- 
fore be  was  to  take  the  boat  on  his  return  to  America.  He 
remembered  Mr.  Graham's  name  and  his  letter  of  introducti<Hi 
and  so  be  set  forth  in  search  of  the  Scotch  stranger. 

"It  turned  out  that  Mr.  Graham  was  a  prominokt  PMlroad 
officer  and  his  office  was  within  the  precincts  of  the  Gla^ow 
staUon  of  that  road.  To  attempt  to  Snd  him  would  be  about 
equal  to  underi^aking  to  find  a  house  in  a  town  of  a  thousand 
people  without  any  special  direction.  I  was  directed  this  way, 
then  that  way,  then  another  way,  then  around  somewhere,  then 
back  again,  until  I  was  far  more  concerned  as  to  whether  I  would 
ever  find  my  way  out  than  I  was  whether  I  would  find  Mr. 
Graham. 

"Finally  I  struck  a  man  in  working  clothes  who  had  a  heart, 
also  a  head.  He  informed  me  that  be  would  take  me  straight 
to  Mr.  Graham's  office.  In  vtun  I  fumbled  in  my  pocket  for 
that  letter  which  was  to  give  me  my  character,  wid  ambled 
along  as  if  going  to  the  slaughter  pen,  or  some  other  place  of 
relief.  After  running  me  a  race  amid  cars,  passages,  stairways 
and  short  turns,  he  jerked  open  a  door  and  stud,  'Mr.  Graham, 
a  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you'  and  shot  out,  as  much  as  to  say 
that  his  part  was  done  and  he  was  determined  not  to  witness  the 
meeting.  I  stopped  'framed  in  the  door'  according  to  the  tire- 
some phrase  of  the  day,  quite  tired  myself. 

"A  gentleman,  immense  in  frame  and  with  a  head  colossal, 
and,  in  part,  barren  of  its  locks,  threw  up  bis  golden  rimmed 
spectacles  to  the  top  of  his  head,  whirled  suddenly  in  his  re- 
volving chair  towards  me  and  fixed  two  large  and  magnificent 
eyes  upon  me.  His  gaze  was  keen  enough  to  cUp  the  buttons 
on  my  clothes  and  uncover  me  for  inspection  and  yet  behind 
it  there  was  something  gracious  as  seen  in  the  distance. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Graham,  let  not  my  presence  alarm  you. 
I  do  not  come  to  ask  for  anything;  not  that  I  have  much, 
but  I  am  an  American  and  I  have  my  return  Ucket  and  enough 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  NEW  BOOK     609 

to  get  me  on  the  boat.  A  friend  of  yourself  in  Richmond,  Va., 
was  much  set  on  my  shaking  your  hand  and  presenting  his  com- 
pliments and,  to  ^ow  you  that  you  were  not  being  imposed 
upon,  gave  me  a  good  character,  sketched  with  his  own  pen — an 
excellent  letter,  indeed,  which  I  discovered  two  or  three  min- 
utes ago  that  I  bad  lost.  I  am  here  for  nothing  on  the  earth, 
except  to  shake  your  hand,  that  I  may  tell  Mr.  Samuel  C. 
Clopton  that  I  had  seen  you  and  had  grasped  your  hand;  if 
now  you  are  willing  to  shake  my  hand  we  will  have  the  cere- 
mony at  once  and  close  the  exercises.' 

"Let  me  add.  however,  that  in  the  event  you  decline 
to  have  the  hand-shake  I  shall  not  take  it  ill;  I  have 
hved  this  long  without  shaking  hands  with  you  and  I  think 
that  by  hard  pulling  I  might  make  the  rest  of  the  trip  even 
though  deprived  of  that  privilege.". 

"  'I  wish  to  say  to  you  Sir'  he  said  in  loud  tones,  "I  hardly 
find  myself  in  a  humor  to  shake  your  band.  Tou  have  not 
treated  me  with  that  respect  to  which,  I  think,  a  friend  of  Dr. 
Clopton's  is  entitled.  You  tell  me  that  you  are  to  take  the  ' 
American  steamer  tomorrow  afternoon.  You  have  so  schemed 
Sir  as  to  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  give  you  an  adequate 
taste  of  old  Scotia's  hospitality.  Where  is  your  luggage? 
.  .  ,  I  will  take  you  to  Hamilton  Palace;  I  will  have  some 
gentleman  to  come  in  and  take  dinner  with  you  tonight;  I 
will  notify  my  pastor  that  you  will  preach  for  us  tonight  and  I, 
with  my  family,  will  take  you  down  to  Greenoch  tomorrow 
evening  and  see  you  on  your  steamer.  Poor  treatment,  I 
admit,  but  you  are  to  blame  for  its  not  being  better." 

As  an  example  of  some  of  the  "evangelistic"  pictures  in 
the  book  may  be  mentioned  the  following  The  scene  was  in 
Petersburg,  Va.: 

"It  was  during  this  pastorate,  while  exceedingly  busy  in  my 
study  one  day,  I  heard  a  gentle  rap  at  my  door  and  upon  open- 
ing it  I  found  one  of  my  little  Sunday-School  girls.  Her  prea- 
eace  surprised  me,  for  it  was  a  week-day  and  I  wondered  that 
she  was  not  at  school.  I  asked  her  how  it  was  that  she  had 
found  time  to  come  to  see  me. 

"  'Oh  doctor'  she  said  '1  came  to  bring  you  good  news. 
This  morning,  while  prayii^  in  my  room,  I  found  the  Saviour, 
and  mother  was  so  happy  about  it  that  she  told  me  that  I  might 
sAsy  away  from  school  and  come  down  and  tell  you  all  about 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


610  SIMON  SEWARD 

it.'  I  recall  even  now  the  radiant  li^t  upon  her  face  and  tlie 
joyous  sincerity  with  which  she  told  her  stoT>'.  It  was  better 
than  a  book  on  tfaeolc^'  to  mark  the  ^ow  of  religious  rapture 
upon  her  face.  Her  out-spoken  experiences  bespoke  the  living 
Christ.  We  had  a  brief  prayer  of  thankf^ving  and  she  in- 
dicated that  her  visit  was  at  an  end.  I  bade  her  good-bye  saving 
that  I  would  see  her  that  night,  for  we  were  holding  revival 
services  at  the  time.  She  made  no  reply  and  I  r^ieated  that  I 
would  see  her  that  night. 

"  'Not  to-night'  she  said,  and  her  face  took  on  a  sudden 
shadow. 

"  'Not  cooling?'  I  stud  with  unintentional  cruelty.  TJo  you 
not  desire  to  come  to  the  meetings?'  I  saw  the  lines  of  suf- 
fering on  her  face  and  her  lip  quivered. 

"  'Oh,  yes,  indeed;  I  would  like  above  everything  to  be 
here  to-night'  she  said  'but  I  cannot  come.  This  morning  after 
breakfast  I  asked  mother  if  I  might  go  across  the  street  and 
adc  a  lady  to  come  with  us  to  church  to^iight.  I  told  her  that 
I  had  be^  converted  and  told  her  about  the  meeting  and  asked 
her  to  oome  with  us  to^iight.  She  told  me  that  she  would  come, 
but  she  was  afraid  to  leave  her  baby  with  the  nurse  and  I  said 
that  if  she  would  come  to  the  meeting  I  would  stay  with  the 
nurse  and  help  take  care  of  the  baby.' 

"The  way  she  said  it  went  to  my  heart.  It  told  of  her  child- 
ish ardor  and  her  genuine  zeal  and  of  the  Christ-like  sdf- 
denial  already  in  her  heart.  She  did  not  know  that  she  had 
done  a  brave  and  lofty  deed,  but  I  knew  it  and  I  looked  upon  her 
with  wonder  and  with  love  as  she  shook  hands  and  flittered 
out  of  my  office. 

"That  night  the  house  was  crowded  and  I  delivered  a  brief 
sermon  at  the  close  of  which  I  invited  inquirers  to  come  for- 
ward. The  front  pews  were  filled  with  inquirers  and  among 
them  a  lady  in  mourning  and  deeply  veiled.  Approaching  her 
I  expressed  pleasure  that  she  had  come  and  a  deare  to  help 
her.  She  thanked  me  in  a  quiet  and  candid  voice  and  t<^d 
me  not  to  concern  myself  about  her,  adding  that  she  was  the 
lady  that  httle  Alice  Robertson  had  told  me  about 

"  'Let  me  tell  you'  she  said  'that  for  the  first  lime  in  all  my 
life  my  heart  is  full  of  religious  peace  to-night.  When  Alice 
came  over  this  momii^  and  told  me  about  her  oonvendon  it 
greatly  impressed  me  and  when  she  offered  to  stay  and  caie 
lot  my  baby  I  realy  felt  that  God  had  sent  her  and  before  1 
came  to^ii^t  I  knew  that  my  little  friend  had  led  me  to  sal- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


SIMON  SEWARD  611 

vation.  After  the  meeting  is  over  I  will  need  you  to  talk  about 
my  future  but  you  ought  to  go  now  and  give  the  help  to  othera 
which  Alice  brought  to  me  to-day.' 

"My  duties  were  driving  me  at  a  furious  rate  and,  except 
a  few  words  which  I  had  with  the  lady  that  night,  I  knew  nois- 
ing more  of  her  until  sometime  after  Uiat  I  waa  told  her  hus- 
band was  sick  and  ej^ressed  a  wish  to  see  me.  I  went  of 
course  and  found  him  in  bed.  I  had  not  seen  him  before  but 
heard  that  he  was  a  wholesale  liquor-merchant  and  utterly 
r^!;ardless  of  religion.  After  greeting  him  I  began  to  question 
him  about  his  sickness  but  he  cut  me  short.  'Never  mind  about 
my  sickness'  he  said  brusquely  and  yet  with  feehng,  'I  have 
deeper  troubles  than  any  sickness  could  bring.  Since  that 
little  Robertson  girl  got  into  my  house  the  other  day  things 
have  gone  all  awry.  My  wife  is  quite  another  woman  and  I  see 
plainly  enough  that  if  I  am  to  live  with  her  I  must  be  another 
man;  but  how  can  I?  Can  there  be  hope  for  such  a  man?  It 
does  not  look  that  way  to  me.  I  am  sick  with  my  trouble  and  I 
thought  maybe  it  was  my  business.  I  hobbled  into  my  buggy 
yesterday  and  drove  to  the  store  and  told  my  partner  thf^^ 
would  never  come  into  that  house  again;  that  the  business  I 
would  leave  to  him  and  he  could  do  what  he  pleased  with  it; 
that  as  for  my  part  I  would  never  sell  another  drop  of  whiskey 
if  my  family  had  to  starve  for  it.  I  Uttie  know  what  will  come 
of  my  action,  but  I  am  done  with  whiskey  for  evermore.  I 
am  ^ad  of  my  decision  but  it  does  not  give  me  peace  and  I 
thought  you  could  help  me.' 

"lYuly  he  was  a  ht  subject  for  the  gospel  and  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  in  a  Uttle  while  he  was  another  man  and  he  has 
been  ever  ranee.  It  was  not  long  afterwards  when  he  entered  the 
memberahip  of  my  church.  We  needed  no  witness  to  tell  that 
he  and  his  wife  had  been  converted.  The  proofs  of  it  were 
written  all  over  their  hves  and  they  were  open  letters  read  of 
all  men  wherever  they  went.  For  a  time  he  was  a  man  without 
a  job  and  without  an  income,  but  business  pursued  him,  threw 
its  gates  open  to  him  and  prospered  him  at  every  step. 

"He  and  his  wife  are  still  living.  Almost  boundlesB  pros- 
perity has  inriched  his  path.  He  has  become  a  leader  among 
men,  a  great  Bible  teacher,  a  liberal  giver,  a  champion  of 
every  great  enterprise  and  one  of  the  truest  and  most  devoted 
friends  that  God  has  ever  given  me.  He  has  reared  a  lai^ 
family  and  many  of  his  children  are  busy  and  efficient  in  the 
service  of  the  Lord.    Simon  Seward — that  is  bis  name  aad  be 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


612  EEAPING  HIS  REWARD 

and  hia  wife  walk  humbly  before  the  Lord  and  delight  io  his' 
service  and  law.  Little  Alice  did  it.  In  her  own  bright  and 
loving  fashion  she  let  her  tight  shine  and  they  saw  it  ^ar  and 
followed  it  and  it  led  them  into  the  Kingdom." 

His  next  letter  to  me  closes  by  saying,  "I  hope  to  do  much 
in  writing  up  my  r^niniscent  stories.  Send  me  the  list  of  those 
we  made  out  of  those  to  write."  This  means  still  another  book 
which  he  is  writing, — a  book  of  short  stories,  gleaned  entirely 
from  his  own  experience,  and  which  be  had  used  as  effective 
iUuBtrationa  in  his  sermons  and  addresses.  There  is  a  passage 
of  scripture  that  reads,  "Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  for 
thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days,"  He  had  lived  a  long 
life  of  service  for  others  and  now  in  bis  last  days  be  was  b^in- 
ning  to  reap  a  reward.  His  cares  were  many  even  to  the  end  and 
yet  they  were  often  drowned  in  the  happy  current  of  gratdul 
words  about  his  book  and  his  life  that  were  ever  flowing  to 
him  through  Us  mail  and  his  conversations.  He  would  come 
in  from  his  trips,  and  his  piles  of  letters,  while  bringing  him 
varied  appeals  and  bothers,  would  also  pour  their  sunlight  upon 
hia  heart.  He  rejoiced  to  note  that  through  his  book  he  was 
still  preaching  to  others  and  possibly  his  soul  was  stirred  by  the 
thought  that  when  he  had  passed  away  bis  book  would  ctm- 
tinue  its  work.  Dr.  C.  H.  Dodd  wrote  him  a  delightful  letter 
about  his  book  "Along  the  Trail,  etc.,"  and  in  reply  he  writes 
to  bim: 

"My  beloved  friend, — You  overdo  it  decidedly  but  it  is 
a  holy  type  of  exaggeration  pardonable  in-  my  aght,  if  not  in 
the  sight  of  heaven.  Your  favorable  estimate  of  my  book  is 
food  for  a  somewhat — ^invahd  author's  pride.  I  am  glad  to 
have  your  praise  for  my  book  and  I  charge  it  up  to  that  friendly 
kindness  of  yours  which  has  done  so  much  to  cheer  and  gladden 
me  in  the  past. 

"Very  Sincerely, 

"W.  E.  Hatcher." 

A  minister  from  lUinois  writes; 

"I  read  pages  from  your  'John  Jasper*  in  my  pulpit  and  thai 
my  son  did  ttie  same  in  Ms.    He  has  the  finest  church  in  MH- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


•    LOVING  MESSAGES  613 

waukee.    .     .    How  he  and  hia  wealthy  congregation  did 
enjoy  that  book." 

"Say,  but  that  chapter  on  "The  Incomparable  Jeff'  i3  a  claasc" 
writes  i)r.  Arthur  Jones  concerning  hia  new  book. 

The  loving  messages  that  kept  trickhng  in  through  the  mails 
were  good  medicine  to  turn.  "You  have  been  an  incalculable 
blessing  to  thousands",  writes  Dr.  E.  Y.  Mullins,  on  July 
11th,  "and  will  be,  I  believe,  to  the  last  moment  of  your  life, — 
which  may  the  Lord  defer  a  long  time."  Among  the  letters 
that  came  to  him  was  one  from  his  friend,  Kev.  Andrew  Broaddus 
of  Carohne  County,  telling  him  of  the  great  help  that  the  book 
had  brought  him  and  of  his  love  for  the  author.  In  reply  Dr 
Hatcher  writes: 

"I  found  my  eyes  bedewed  with  tears  as  I  read  your  af- 
fectionate letter.  I  have  been  drawing  sweetness  from  the  two 
Broadduses  for  a  long  time.  Your  father  gave  me  great  pride 
in  ^ving  me  such  an  ardent  friendship;  Luther  was  wrought 
into  my  soul  and  his  image  lives  in  my  memory  today;  and  as 
for  you  and  Julian  how  could  I  ever  tell  you  of  the  freedom, 
the  intimacy,  the  joy  of  my  companionship  with  you  and  I  am 
simple  enough  to  believe  that  the  sweetest  drop  which  ever  fell 
from  my  cup  dropped  from  your  letter  as  I  read  it  this  morn- 
ing. So  far  as  I  can  judge  the  chief  care  about  my  book  is  as  to 
the  measure  of  comfort  and  inspiration  it  may  give  to  others. 
I  will  respect  the  book  more  because  it  did  you  good. 

"I  find  my  heart  set  on  coming,  if  possible,  to  the  Hermon. 
Save  the  meanest  little  room  that  you  have  in  the  house  for 
me  and  if  the  Lord  will  allow  me  I  will  be  there. 

"Give  my  love  to  the  family  in  overflowing  measures  and 
tell  Gay  and  Kirk  to  keep  the  music  of  the  Fork  Union  bugle 
rollii^  over  the  hills  and  plains  of  Caroline." 

In  reply  to  Dr,  E.  Y.  Mullins'  letter  he  writes: 

"I  have  just  received  your  exceedingly  spicy  and  piquant 
letter.  I  have  just  one  remark  that  I  will  make  in  reply  to  it — it 
is  amply  unanswerably  good.  But  there  is  a  thing  I  would  like 
to  do.  I  find  myself  disposed  to  put  your  father  'No.  1'  and 
you  'No.  2'  and  so  I  write  to  a£^  your  father's  address  that 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


614  LOVING  MESSAGES 

I  may  send  him  a  copy  of  my  new  book.  If  I  have  any  doubt 
as  to  your  capacity  to  enjoy  my  book  I  ^ve  your  father  credit 
for  having  just  that  kind  of  genius  and  gumption  that  vill 
make  him  like  my  book. 

"Send  me  his  address  and  I  will  send  him  my  book  as  a  tokoi 
of  my  appreciation  of  him  as  your  father  and  in  the  hope  that 
it  will  cheer  and  prove  companionable  to  him  in  his  convalescent 
days." 

"You  always  nrd  and  stimulate  me"  writes  a  pastor.  "I 
love  you  wil^  aB  of  a  son's  strong  devotion.  In  my  bitter 
grief  your  book  has  been  a  blessii^." 

Dr.  M.  L.  Wood  of  Huntington,  W.  Va.,  writes  on  July  19th: 

"I  have  laughed  and  cried  with  you  'Along  the  Trail  of  the 
Friendly  Years',  and  have  wished  and  resolved  many  things 
with  you  along  the  delghtful  journey.  I  often  think  back  to 
the  time  when,  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighties,  my  own  path 
crossed  that  trail.  That  you  thm  had  a  kind  word  for  the 
green  and  awkward  country  lad,  all  unprepared  for  College 
woric,  has  had  a  vast  amount  to  do  with  what  has  been  worUi 
while  in  the  j^ter  years  of  his  work.  .  ■  Now  that  you  wear 
on  your  frosted  locks  the  crown  of  a  strong  life,  nobly  spent  in 
self-sacrificing  service,  1  wish  that  I  might  add  at  least  a  rose- 
leaf  to  the  chaplet  that  shall  wreath  the  crown;  not  that  I  could 
enrich  the  votive  offering,  but  merely  share  in  the  honor  and 
happiness  of  putting  it  in  its  worthy  place.  I  love  you  very 
much  and  count  you  one  of  God's  best  gifts  to  the  cause  as 
represented  by  the  Baptist  people.  I  trust  you  will  pardon  me 
for  the  liberty  I  have  taken  to  write  thus,  but  I  wanted  to  say 
this  much  at  least  before  heavenly  mudc  dulled  your  ears  to 
earthly  voices." 

His  chief  attoition  at  this  time  was  given  to  the  Seminary 
campaign  in  ^npnia.  Through  his  several  canvassers  he 
sought  to  cover  the  state  and  by  his  weekly  jottings,  in  the 
Herald  he  sought  to  stimulate  the  movement.  His  burdens 
were  many,  but  there  seemed  to  be  ever  a  song  in  bis  heart  and 
a  growing  light  upon  his  path. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XLII 


Q&UES  WITH  THE  QRANDCHILDREN.      CONTINUED  TRIBUTEB  TO  HIS 

BOOK.      INTEREST  IN  PEOPLE.      CAUGHT  IN  A  HOTEL 

FIBE.       BLUEFIEIJ>. 

When  he  would  run  into  Careby  from  his  trips,  during 
this  Summer  season,  he  would  find  himself  busier  than 
when  he  was  out  upon  the  highway.  Academy  matters 
were  always  waiting  to  crowd  him  with  their  questions 
and  appeals.  His  mail  had  to  be  answered  and  his  stenographer 
would  appear  on  the  Careby  hill  a  few  minutes  after  his  arrival. 
But  in  the  rush  the  grandchildren  generally  occupied  the  center 
of  the  stage.  They  were  now  at  a  good  age  for  "games"  and 
many  were  the  contests  which  he  had  with  them.  After  a  heavy 
drive  with  his  stenographer,  or  after  several  straining  confer* 
ences  in  his  office  with  different  visitors,  he  would  call  out 
"Virginia!"  or  "William!"  or  "Katherine!"  and  when  he  heard 
their  answer  he  would  call  out,  "Quoits!"  or  "Dominoesl" 
It  was  interesting  to  watch  him  at  a  game  of  dominoes  with  one 
of  the  children.  There  were  really  two  children  playing  when 
he  was  one  of  the  players.  He  became  utterly  lost  to  the 
outside  world  in  the  contest  and  would  work  with  might  and 
main  to  beat.  He  would  groan  out  his  disappointments  when 
he  would  lose  and  shout  his  elation  when  he  would  win,  and 
through  it  all  he  muntained  a  genial,  kindly  manner. 

He  would  not  allow  the  game  to  drag,  but  would  cry  out  in 

mock  fierceness  "Go  on;  go  on,"  when  his  opponent  would  be 

slow  in  playing.    "Oh,  I  am  a  ruined  man"  he  would  exclaim 

615 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


616  GRANDFATHER  PLAYING  DOMINOES 

when  some  play  would  go  against  him.  Agfun  he  would  say. 
"Well,  Brother  Hatcher  has  hopes".  "Hurrah  for  Bnider 
Hatcherl"  he  would  call  out  when  a  new  turn  would  come  in  his 
favor  and  thus  he  would  keep  up  a  running  fire  of  comment — 
of  which  he  almost  appeared  unctmscious,  so  absorbed  was  be 
in  the  contest. 

One  day  Eatherine  saw  him  and  Viripnia  engaged  in  a  game 
of  dominoes.  Grandfather's  "carryings-on"  in  the  game  amused 
her.  With  knitted  brow  and  eager  manner  be  was  trying  hard 
to  beat  and  was  running  a  regular  fusillade  of  ejaculations 
about  the  game.  Katherine  decided  that  she  would  take  down 
on  paper  these  ejaculations.  She  knew  how  much  Edith 
and  Elizabeth  at  Bryn  Mawr  would  enjoy  it  and  in  a  spirit 
of  fun  she  picked  up  pencil  and  paper  and  slyly  jotted  down 
Grandfather's  comments  just  as  they  came  from  his  lips.  This 
particular  incident  occured  during  the  winter  when  Eatherine 
and  Virginia  were  staying  at  Careby,  but  the  exclamations 
give  a  picture  of  bow  Grandfather  "kept  things  lively"  in  his 
games, — whether  in  Summer  or  Winter. 

The  dashes  indicate  the  pauses  between  the  comments,  though 
there  were  not  many  seconds  in  which  he  was  not  stirring  up 
the  contest  with  some  remark. 

His  outbursts  were  as  follows: 

•    "She  wont  hollow  like  I  will. 

"Oh,  brother  Hatcher,  I  am  sorry  for  you.  Go  on  with 
blank — one.    Go  on, 

"Brother  Hatcher — busted — ^Ten,  ten,  ten;  go  on;  let  me  see. 
Oh,  yes;  you  have  got  to  do  some  playing,  go  on  I  dont  believe 
I  could  if  my  life  depended  on  it. 

"I  never  desired  any  more  than  that.  Go  on.  Get  away 
from  her.  This  girl  has  to  atop  every  time  you  crook  your 
neck — Go  on,  you  are  fifteen,  I  am  nothing  on  the  top  of  the 
ground. 

"I  am  nothing  and  am  getting  worse.  Go  on  here.  Well 
I  believe  the  time  has  come  for  me  to  be  heard  from. 

"Great  Caesar,  you  are  just  ruining  me.  Let  me  see;  now 
that  is  a  six-four-Iet  me  see,  let  me  see — six,  six,  six  ax,  one, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


GRANDFATHER  PLAYING  DOMINOES  617 

two,  three,  four,  one,  two,  four,  one.  Great  Caesar,  there  is 
nothing  to  play.  I  will  play  that  any  way,  forty-four,  fifty- 
five — ^you  tUd  that  just  because  your  mother  was  in  here, — 
you  did  not  get  double  blank— blank,  go  on,  go. 

"That's  five  for  you.  Go  on.  You  got  five,  I  did'nt  .  Go 
on — ^you  are  fifteen — you  are  ten,  I  am  nothii^  on  the  top 
of  the  ground — Dedle,  dedle  de,  de,  de.  Stop;  look  here  where 
did  you  knock  that  man? — ^All  I  get  over,  this  time,  I'll  take 
off  you.  Oh,  brother  Hatcher  you  are  getting  on  beautifully — 
I'll  put  it  that  way  if  it  costs  me  a  bushel  of  snaps, — Ten 
for  me — some  men  are  gone.  Go  on,  go  on — now  this  is  a 
struggle — ^If  you  get  over  four  hundred  I'll  give  you  a  quarter. 
Go  on,  I  got  spoilt,  I  thought  you  would  give  me  ten — ^well  that 
was  80  nice  in  you — beautiful,  beautiful — ten,  ten,  t«ii,ten — 
well  1  got  twenty — at  that  rate  you  will  lay  me  in  the  dust. 
Gone  to  pieces  in  his  calapication — blank — one,  two,  three, 
four.  I'll  ^ve  you  four — go  on — four,  four,  four,  four,  four, — 
one,  two — go  on  with  your  blank. 

"Let  me  see  what  would  you  do?  Where  did  that  go?— 
that's  twenty,  20,  20,  20 — hello — go  on.  I  wish  you  would 
play  some  time;  that's  what  I  wish — ^well  I  put  it  that  way — 
Great  Ceasar — ^wait  here— let  me  see— how  many  have  you 

?3t? — can  you  play  a  five?  one  six — two  six — three  six — 
ve  for  Bruder —  twenty  for  Bruder — twenty  for  Bruder — 
twenty-five  for  Bruder — twenty  five  for  Bruder — twenty-five 
for  Bruder — twenty  five  for  Bruder — twenty-five  for  Bruder — 
blaokee  for  Bruder — ^how  many  have  you  got?  Let  me  see 
what  I  can  do? — one  two — one,  two,  three,  four, — hello  twenty- 
five,  go  on — Great  Caesar,  hello — Let  me  see  what  you  have 
got— four.  I'll  get  some  of  the  big  one's  off.  That  is  twenty- 
three  I  got  off — how  much  did  I  get  before  five,  five,  five,  let 
me  see — ^five— that  is  ten  for  Brother  Hatcher.  I  wish  you 
would  get  some  more.  Ten  for  Brother  Hatcher — Twenty  for 
Brother  Hatcher — that's  five  for  you." 

At  the  end  of  this  Eatherine  who  took  it  down  wrote  "Grand- 
father stad  all  of  this.    Vii^nia  didn't  say  any." 

"You  have  just  passed  the  76th  milestone"  writes  Dr.  I,  B. 
Lake  "I  lift  my  heart  in  thanksgiving  to  the  good  Lord  that 
you  are  still  permitted  to  walk  along  the  trail  doing  this  work." 

Bearding  the  title  which  he  had  chosen  for  his  book,  Dr. 
McGlothlin  of  tiie  Seminary  wrote  him,  "The  name  is  an 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


618  LOVING  MESSAGES 

inspiration  and  will  have  for  me  perpetual  value  as  a  suggestitm 
of  the  right  attitude  towards  life's  experiences." 

He  writes  to  Rev.  Andrew  Broadus: 

"My  prayer  is  that  you  may  live  many  years,  thou^  there 
is  one  reason  why  I  would  like  to  outlive  you  and  that  is  that 
I  might  attend  your  funeral  and  tell  the  world  what  I  think  of 
you." 

"I  picked  up  a  fine  boy  for  the  Academy"  he  writes  "and  ^so 
picked  up  fifty  dollars  to  help  me  take  care  of  a  poor  boy." 

"One  of  the  saddest  thoughts  that  I  have  is  that  you  are 
growing  old"  writes  Rev.  R.  F.  Treadway  of  Arkansas. 
In  this  worid  you  will  never  know  how  greatly  I  admire  you 
and  how  much  I  love  you.    Perhaps  in  eternity  I  can  make  you 
know  more  of  it." 

One  brother  lays  the  blame  for  a  headache  at  his  door: 

"I  have  just  read  your  last  book,  'Along  the  Trail  of  the 
Friendly  Years'.  .  I  read  until  nearly  one  o'clock  at  night 
when  wife  said,  'You  must  go  to  bed'  and  I  had  to  desist,  but 
I  began  it  again  in  the  morning  somewhere  about  four  or  five 
o'clock  with  the  result  which  you  are  responsible  for, — a 
feehng  of  fatigue  accompanied  with  some  headache.  .  .  I 
wish  to  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  the  comfort  and  joy 
which  this  book  has  given  me." 

"What  a  great  mass  of  good  you  have  done  in  your  life" 
writes  Dr.  H.  F.  Colby  of  Dayton.  "And  how  modestly  you 
have  only  hinted  at  it  while  you  have  pictured  so  graphi- 
cally the  scenes  and  people  you  have  met.  We  love  you  very 
much  in  Dayton." 

"I  must  work  while  it  is  day;  for  the  night  cometh";  that  was 
the  motto  which  during  these  days  seemed  ever  sounding 
in  his  soul.   On  October  6th,  he  writes  me: 

"Just  back  from  Lynchburg.  The  Almond  wedding  went 
off  with  a  hig^  and  graceful  bai^. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


D.qil.zMBlG001^le 


EAGERNESS  TO  SAVE  SOULS         619 

"I  expect  to  end  my  Seminary  work  at  General  Association, 

After  that ;  Well,  I  am  still  dedicating;  also  my  fame 

aa  a  revivalist  shows  vital  signs.  Hollins  is  after  me  and  North 
Carolina  also.    I  must  work,  for  the  night  cometh. 

"As  to  Baltimore I  sicken  to  see  you  and 

yours.    Words  cannot  tell  out  my  yearning  after  you," 

A  young  preacher  in  Indiana,  after  telling  of  bow  be  had 
devoured  the  book,  closed  by  saying:  "God  bless  you  not  only 
for  this  recent  goodness  but  for  what  you  were  to  me  in  my  , 
student  days — unacknowledged  until  now." 

"Why  do  you  go  so  much"  said  bis  wife  to  him  one  day  as  he 
was  preparing  to  leave  Careby  on  one  of  his  trips.  "Why  not 
stay  here  at  Careby?  We  have  enough  and  can  eaaly  get  along 
and  you  will  find  it  not  so  heavy  on  you." 

Quickly  he  replied,  "I  would  rather  see  souls  saved  than  to  do 
anything  else  on  the  earth".  Dr.  Landnim  called  him  "a 
crowned  king  of  workers".  "We  are  having  a  fierce  nunpus 
here  between  our  H and  our  C ■-■  ■  [at  the  Aca- 
demy]" Jie  writes,  "But  it  will  be  over  in  a  thousand  years 
and  so  I  will  let  it  go  by  and  see  you  at  the  end  of  the  millen- 


He  visited  us  in  Baltimore,  spoke  before  our  State  conven- 
tion and  in  a  day  or  so  was  gone.    He  wrote  a  few  days  later: 

"I  am  having  soUtude  in  blocks  and  it  makes  me  quite  con- 
ceited that  I  am  such  delightful  company  for  Brer  Hatcher. 
He  tells  me  he  enjoys  my  society  very  much  except  I  work  so 
much  that  he  cannot  see  much  of  me.  He  was  always  foolish 
about  wanting  so  much." 

A  young  minister  Rev.  Mosby  Seay,  who  spent  a  week  with 
him  at  Careby,  says  it  was  one  of  the  richest  experiences  of 
his  life  to  read  in  his  hearing  the  new  book  "Along  the  Trul", 

"I  thoi^t"  says  he  "that  the  'aaidee'  he  gave  me  as  I  read 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


620       LETTER  TO  REV.  J.  E.  BAILEY 

it  aa  fine  as  the  book  itself  and  I  regarded  it  a  pity  he  did  not 

incorporate  them." 

The  following  letter  to  Rev.  J.  E.  Baley  of  Saluda,  S.  C, 
shows  how  he  would  seek  by  a  letter  to  cheer  a  young  pastor: 

"Your  letter  is  glory  itself.  Your  atory  of  the  Red  Bank 
building  programme  is  a  poem.  It  poatively  charmed  me,  I 
rejoice  that  the  hoary  obstacles  which  have  blocked  your  track 
are  melting  away  and  that  your  people  are  massing  solidly  for 
the  work 

"The  God  of  the  brave  is  with  you.  Stand  to  your  colors 
and  you  will  soon  see  the  day  of  victory. 

"Oh,  it  will  be  glory  enough  if  I  can  be  on  hand  on  that  great 
and  proud  day  in  your  life.  I  am  hoping  that  the  Lord  will 
let  me  aee  that  house  of  the  Lord  happily  done. 

"I  am  now  clo^g  up  my  campaign  for  the  Seminary.  It 
has  been  a  most  engaging  and  satisfying  task  and  I  have  found 
it  a  fountain  of  life.  We  Bet  out  to  get  $60,000  and  I  am  sure 
that  we  are  going  beyond  $80,000, 

"How  is  that  for  old  Vir^nia? 

"I  find  myself  ready  to  shout  over  the  growth  of  your  town. 
You  intoxicate  me  with  enthusiasm  by  the  way  you  blow  the 
Saluda  trumpet." 

His  wife  writes  to  one  of  the  children,  "Your  father  gets  some 
letters  about  his  book  nearly  every  day," 

Amcmg  these  letters  was  the  following  from  a  friend  whom 
he  greatly  loved, — Dr.  R.  H,  Hudnall  of  Blacksburg: 

"I  have  just  laid  aade  the  most  interesting  book  I  have  ever 
read  in  my  life — your  'Along  the  Trail  of  the  Friendly  Years', 
I  hardly  know  how  to  characterize  it,  or  what  to  say  of  its 
style.  There  was  no  one  who  could  write  as  Addison  did  and  bo 
we  name  his  style  Addisonian;  so  there  was  a  Johnsonese,  a 
Carlyle  and  a  Macaulayian  style  and  so  there  is  a  Hatcherian 
style,  .  .  You  are  inimitable  and  your  strong  personality 
is  felt  throughout.     .     .     ." 

Next  Spring  at  Philadelphia  the  Baptists  of  the  world  were 
to  meet  in  the  Baptist  World  Alliance.     This  gathering  of 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  BAPTIST  WORLD  ALLIANCE  621 

the  Baptist  hosts  was  scheduled  to  occur  every  five  years. 
Dr.  John  Clifford  of  England  was  premdent  aad  at  the  next 
meeting  America  is  to  have  the  honor  of  naming  the  new  pres- 
ident. Who  will  he  be?  Dr.  Albion  W.  Small  of  the  Chicago 
Univeraty  writes  tm  November  6th  in  tiie  Chicago  Standard 
regarding  the  presidency,  olocdng  with  these  words: 

"Afl  a  ogD  of  our  fraternity  and  as  an  exhibit  of  the  manner 
of  man  whom  all  American  Baptists  dehght  to  honor  I  pro- 
pose that  we  select  by  acclamation  Dr.  William  E.  Hatcher," 

Dr.  L.  A.  Craudatl  of  Minneapolis  followed  with  a  brief 
statement  closing  with  the  words:  "it  seema  evident  that  he 
inteaded  to  nominate  everybody's  friend,  Dr.  Wilham  E. 
Hatcher,  as  the  next  president  of  the  Baptist  World  Alliance. 
I  hasten  to  second  that  nomination  with  the  understanding 
that  Doctor  Hatcher  shall  at  once  proceed  to  write  us  another 
book  as  charming  as  'Along  the  Trail  of  the  Friendly  years.'  " 

There  was  much  talk  of  his  election  to  the  jwsition  but  he 
laughed  the  idea  out  of  court.  He  remarked  that  the  new 
president  would  be  elected  to  serve  five  years  and  that  he 
was  too  near  his  end  to  undertake  such  a  work  for  a  five-year 
period.  This  was  his  feeling  though  of  course  he  appreciated 
profoundly  the  kindness  of  his  honored  friends  in  suggesting 
his  name. 

He  went  to  Hollins  Institute  to  Eud  Dr.  George  B.  Taylor 
in  meetings  and  near  the  end  of  the  meetings  he  writes: 

"Sunday  night;  Great  time  tonight.  A  mighty  meeting. 
Many  Hollins  ^rls  came  and  several  men  of  families." 

Again  he  writes: 

"The  X incident  [at  Fork  Union]  is  at  fever  heat, 

but  I  am  too  busy  and  feeble  to  be  excited," 

A  pastor  who  dehvered  a  prominent  discourse  at  the  General 
Association  m  Roanoke  wrote  him  after  the  Association  that 
while  he  was  preparing  the  discourse  he  had  the  thought,  "I 
wonder  what  Dr.  Hatcher  will  think  of  that."  "Yes  I  did"  he 
writes  "I  knew  you  would  be  there  and  that  I  would  have  no 
more  sympathetic  listener  and  with  all  your  loving  sympathy 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


622  EVERYBODY'S  FRIEND 

I  knew  you  would  listoi  with  sharp  discrimination."  At  the 
Academy  he  conducted  the  service  on  Thankfigiving  Day  and 
at  the  close  the  Academy  cadets  presented  to  him  a  olver 
lovii^  cup.  "It  pleased  him  very  much"  writes  his  wife.  "It 
was  a  delicate  w^  to  express  their  (pve." 

It  might  be  mentioned  at  this  point  that  in  his  business 
dealings  he  seemed  to  have  not  merely  a  conscience  for  fairness 
but  also  a  heart  for  the  merehant.  He  scorned  to  higgle 
about  the  price  and  seemed  ever  anxious  that  the  other  party 
should  come  out  of  the  transaction  in  good  shape.  Evoi  the 
Italian  fruit  dealers  at  the  depot  where  he  would  take  the  train 
for  Fork  Union  would  smile,  and  jump  about  with  a  new  step, 
when  Dr.  Hatcher  would  approach,  for  he  seemed  to  be  inter- 
ested in  them  in  such  a  kindly  fashion  and  with  nearly  every 
purchase  there  was  a  striking  sentence  that  they  would  re- 
member him  by. 

Wh^i  he  had  his  office  at  the  College  during  his  work  for 
that  institution,  he  was  often  a  passenger  on  the  Broad  Street 
car  line  and  it  was  very  noticeable  how  the  faces  of  the  con- 
ductors would  light  up  when  they  approached  him  for  the  fare 
or  when  they  would  help  him  on  the  car.  They  all  not  only 
knew  him  but  acted  as  if  they  thought  he  was  their  kind,  good 
friend  and  he  nearly  always  punctured  them  with  a  breeiy 
bright  word.  It  was  on  a  Richmond  Street  car  that  he  found 
one  day  a  young  man  from  the  mountains  acting  as  conductor. 
He  told  him  that  be  was  bom  for  higher  work  and  that  young 
man  is  one  of  the  useful  pastors  in  Texas  today. 

A  gejitleman  who  in  those  days  was  a  student  at  the  College 
says;  "I  remained  at  College  during  the  holidays  when  neariy 
all  the  other  students  were  away  and  one  day  Dr.  Hatcher, 
noticing  how  lonely  I  seemed  to  be  said,  'Here  take  this  dollar 
and  go  and  have  an  outing  and  a  good  time.'  " 

Mr.  W-  C.  Rowland  the  Philadelphia  merchant  with  whom 
Dr.  Hatcher  had  large  business  dealings  every  year  in  con- 
nection with  the  uniforms  for  the  Academy  wrote,  "I  have 
always  felt  that  he  was  my  brother;  he  was  always  kind  to  me 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


TEACHING  THE  OLD  COLOPIED  MAN  623 

and  I  shall  always  feel  grateful  that.  .  .it  was  my  privilege 
to  call  him  friend." 

He  went  one  day  up  into  Powhatan  county  with  his  friend 
R.  H.  Winfree  to  attend  a  meeting.  The  meeting  proved  to  be 
invisible  but  on  their  return  they  stopped  on  the  road  at 
Peterville  to  feed  their  horse.  They  sat  down  and  soon  Dr. 
Hatcher  became  engaged  in  a  conversation  with  an  old  negro 
who  was  standing  near  and  who  seemed  to  be  very  feeble  and 
infirm. 

Soon  Dr.  Hatcher  said  to  the  old  man,  "Are  you  a  christian?" 
"No  Bar;  1  iz  not.  I  ain'  nev'r  bin  caus'  I  nev'r  cu'd  have  dat 
'speriunce.  Dey  tel'  me  yer  got  ter  have  de  'speriunce;  I  hear 
de  others  say  dey  dun  got  it  but  I  ain'  had  it." 

Mr.  Winfree  in  telling  about  the  incident  said  that  Dr. 
Hatcher  then  proceeded  to  tell  the  gospel  story  to  the  old  n^ro 
who  listened  intently.  He  explained  in  simple  language  how 
we  were  saved,  not  by  havii^  some  wonderful  experience,  but 
by  trusting  in  Christ.  Mr.  Winfree  said  a  few  months  after 
that  he  heard  that  the  old  man  died  and  in  his  last  mom^ita 
said,  "I  don'  kno  'bout  de  speriunce  but  I  am  trustin'  jes'  lek 
dat  preacher  tol'  me  dat  day  at  Peterville." 

The  Doctor  in  Florida  who  treated  his  sprained  thumb  a  few 
months  before  his  death  wrote  his  pastor.  Dr.  Wildman,  telhng 
him  of  what  a  bles^g  his  contact  with  Dr.  Hatcher  in  his 
professional  dealii^  with  him  had  been. 

"For  the  past  twenty  years  or  more"  writes  Mr.  Hunt 
Hargrave,  a  dearly  loved  friend,  "you  have  been  «i  inspiration 
to  me  and  if  I  am  of  any  account  in  the  reUgious  world  much 
ia  due  to  my  association  with  you." 

He  brought  to  an  end  bis  work  for  the  Seminary  campaign. 
After  expres^ng  bis  appreciation  of  his  labors  Dr.  Mullins 
added,  "I  can  never  express  to  you  sufSciently  my  appreciation 
of  all  that  you  have  been  to  me  personally  and  to  the  Semi- 
nary." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


624    A  CHEERING  WORD  FROM  CHINA 

"Who  thinks  of  WiUiam  R  Hatcher"  says  the  Herald  "aa 
an  old  man.  He  was  never  more  abundant  in  labore  and  enjoys 
them  alt." 

His  daughter  One  had  asked  him  to  write  her  what  his  needs 
for  the  winter  were  and  in  reply  he  wrote: 

"As  for  the  matter  of  my  needs  for  the  wintry  weather  I 
am  too  stupid  to  speak  with  effect.  I  do  not  know  wbi^  I  need 
and  cannot  say  that  I  need  anything.  My  needs  seem  dumb 
and  do  not  cry  out.  Meet  me  in  Baltimore  and  tutor  me  as  to 
what  I  ought  to  have  but  have  no  concern  about  me.    .    .    ."' 

A  letter  came  from  China,  from  Rev.  R.  B.  Chambers,  a 
missionary  in  that  country,  saying  that  at  a  special  meeting  of 
Chinese  girls  he  had  told  one  of  the  stories  of  his  book,  "Alcmg 
the  Trail  of  the  Friendly  Years."    He  writes: 

"I  related  the  incident  as  nearly  as  I  could  in  a  literal  trans- 
lation of  your  own  words.  It  would  have  done  your  own  heart 
good  to  see  how  it  stirred  the  audience  of  more  than  100  f^tii.  I 
am  satisfied  that  quite  a  number  of  these  who  were  baptised 
two  weeks  later  were  to  a  considerable  extent  influenced  by  the 
story.  I  then  prepared  it  for  publication  in  the  True  Light 
monthly.  Mr.  Cheung  Kaam  Ue,  the  Chinese  asEdstant  editor, 
pronounced  it  excellent  and  tears  were  in  his  eyes  more  than  once 
while  I  was  dictating  the  story  to  him.  I  feel  that  you  will 
enjoy  knowing  that  the  influence  of  your  work  and  little  Alice's 
love  for  souls  is  being  felt  on  this  side  of  the  globe.  I  expect 
to  translate  several  other  incidents  from  the  book." 

The  pleasant  tenor  of  his  hfe  was  rudely  broken  by  his 
experience  on  December  IStb  at  Manassas.  While  he  was  asleep 
in  the  hotel  fire  was  discovered  in  the  building  and  he  was 
suddenly  awakened  by  the  banging  of  doors  and  the  inrush 
of  smoke. 

"It  was  no  cheerful  fate,"  he  writes,  "to  be  tumbled  out  into 
the  snow  under  the  reluctant  twilight,  half-clad  and  pushed 
hither  and  thither  by  a  wild  and  unthinking  crowd 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


ESCAPING  THE  FIRE  625 

"But  Bomehow  help  always  comes  and  this  time  it  came  in  the 
manly  form  and  the  quick  recognition  of  a  former  honored 
student  at  Richmond  College, — Mr.  Sinclair,  now  a  youi^ 
lawyer  at  Mauassaa,  who  quickly  found  me  a  guide  and  hustled 
me  away  to  his  father's  house.  It  was  Hndaess  indeed  and  I 
was  picking  my  way  along  the  slippery  paths  when  a  sleigh 
came  singing  by  and  behold  it  had  as  its  sole  occupant  another 
Richmond  College  boy, — he  a  lawyer  also — Robert  Hutchison 
by  name,  who,  with  imperious  kindness,  drew  me  to  his  side 
and  at  blinding  speed  whirled  me  away  to  the  door  of  one  of 
the  most  lovable  of  all  the  friends  of  earth,  Westwood  Hutchison 
and  in  a  few  more  seconds  I  was  in  his  cosy  mansion  with  every 
member  of  the  family  acting  as  my  servant  and  racking  me  to 
the  point  of  torture  to  find  what  they  could  do  for  me. 

"Oh  this  world  is  fine, — filled  up  with  love  and  light  and 
hope  and  help  and  one  might  feel  that  it  is  well  to  stay  here 
forever  and  be  happy  if  there  were  no  better  place.  In  a  little 
while  the  scene  of  tiie  fire,  the  strain  of  the  flight  and  the  lurid 
horror  of  the  flames  were  all  gone  and  I  was  taking  breakfast 
peacefully  and  with  sest  in  the  home  of  the  Hutchisons." 

He  lost  his  valise  and  his  two  best  suits  at  the  fire,  but  he 
said,  "I  am  living  and  I  defy  the  earth  to  prevent  me  from 
b^g  grateful."  He  had  the  joy  of  taking  part  in  the  cele- 
bration of  the  fiftieth  marriage  anniversary  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
I.  B.  Lake — ^friends  greatly  beloved — at  XJpperville,  Va. 

A  mother  whose  son  Mortimer  he  had  helped  at  the  Academy 
writes  him: 

"Oh,  Dr.  Hatcher,  you  have  done  great  good  in  your  life; 
you  have  brought  peace  and  comfort  to  hundreds  of  lives  and 
to  no  hearts  have  you  brought  greater  joy  than  to  mine  and  to 
Mortimer's." 

He  and  hia  wife  spent  the  Chriatmaa  holidays  with  his  three 
daughters  One,  Edith  and  Elizabeth  at  Biyn  Mawr,  and  a  very 
happy  season  it  was  for  him.  He  stopped  with  us  in  Baltimore 
for  a  few  days.  While  he  was  at  Bryn  Mawr  his  Chinese  boy. 
Ah  Fong,  paid  him  a  visit, — running  down  from  New  York 
where  he  was  a  student  at  Columbia  College.  Ah  Fong  writes, 
"When  he  saw  me,  he  said,  "Well,  Ah  Fong,  it  does  my  heart 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


626  BACK  AT  CAREBY 

good  to  aee  you  ^ain.    So  you  are  at  Columbia,  I  know  you  are 
of  the  right  stuff.'  " 

He  had  sent  out  post  card  greetings  to  Bome  of  his  friends, — 
among  them  to  Dr.  C  T.  Hemdon  who  replied: 

"That  you,  my  father,  should  think  of  me  and  write  with 
your  own,  dear  hand  such  a  aweet  message  touches  me  more 
deeply  than  I  can  tell  you.  .  .You  must  take  care  of  yourself 
for  thdse  who  love  you.  .  .  I  thank  God  for  every  remem- 
brance of  you.  Last  night  Skinner  and  I  were  talkii^  over 
the  phone  of  our  admiration  and  love  for  you." 

None  of  the  family  were  at  Careby  but  he  hastens  thither 
where  he  writes: 

"I  got  home  last  evening  just  before  seven,  I  found  rain, 
mud  and  darkness  waiting  for  me.  But  my  ever  faithful 
Stephens  brought  me  to  Careby  at  a  clipping  rate.  My  room 
was  warm  and  full  of  Light  and  soon  hot  coffee  and  batter  bread 
made  me  forget  that  I  had  bad  no  dinner  that  was  worthy  of 
respectful  mention.  That  night  I  slept  the  sleep  of  the  dilap- 
idated. Indeed  I  am  still  working  off  my  fatigues. 
[I  send  this  blot  free] 

"I  am  writing  nothii^  on  my  book.  Indeed  I  am  miring 
indolence  with  idleness  in  equal  proportions." 

Huntington,  West  Virginia,  next  clfumed  him  for  meet^ 
ii^. 

From  that  point  he  writes  me: 

"Wood  has  almost  punctured  me  to  the  point  of  a  book  on 
'Character  Sermons'.  I  may  come  to  it — if  I  do  not  come  to 
my  end  too  soon  for  that.  ....  I  never  enjoyed  preach- 
ing more  m  my  life." 

To  his  friend.  Dr.  E.  B.  Bryan,  President  of  Co^ate  Uni- 
versity, he  sent  the  following  hilarious  letter: 

"Your  letter  is  worth  its  weight  six  times  in  diamonds.  1 
foimd  it  awaiting  me  on  my  return  from  Huntington,  W.  Va,, 
where  I  held  a  glorious  meeting.    I  ran  in  to  lay  up  for  repiurs 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LETTER  TO  DR.  E.  B.  BRYAN        627 

tor  a  brief  while  and  I  bave  other  engagemoita  pulling  at  my 
throat. 

"I  am  working  at  another  book — except  that  I  am  not;  full 
half  of  the  work  is  done  and  the  other  half  lags  because  of  my 
absence  and  also  because  of  the  fascination  of  indolence. 

"I  am  getting  great  accounts  of  you  and  Colgate.  They 
tell  me  how  splendidly  you  are  doing  and  I  knew  you  would. 
Your  invitation  for  me  to  come — come  not  for  toil  but  for 
love — come  to  revel  in  your  hospitality — is  distracting;  I  would 
like  to  see  you  in  your  new  glories,  see  your  wife,  see  your  two 
pria  and  that  jewel  of  your  heart  and  mine,  one  Julian.  Maybe 
I  will  come  some  time  but  I  must  wait  to  see. 

"You  rather  discount  yourself  in  my  Judgment,  but  not 
in  my  feeUngs  to  write  so  ravingly  about  my  book.  If  I  could 
write  it  over  agun,  I  would  put  you  and  Arthur  Jones  and 
"Fowl"  in  a  chapter  to  yourselves  and  head  it,  'My  Beat 
Chapter.' 

"It  is  equaU*/  fanatical  and  ill-conceived  on  your  part  to  be 
throwing  your  hat  in  the  air  over  the  proposition  to  make  me 
President  of  the  Baptist  World's  Alliance.  Dr.  Small  of  the 
University  of  Chicago  started  that  gracious  fable.  I  have 
vanity  enough  to  send  a  few  pioneer  thoughts  out  on  the  hill 
tops  to  bring  back  reports  as  to  what  an  honor  it  would  be 
to  me  if  they  did  make  me  president.  I  also  send  my  judgment 
along  to  keep  my  thoughts  from  making  fools  of  themselves 
and  require  them  to  tell  me  there  is  nothing  in  it. 

"It  was  kind  of  the  University  of  Chicf^  to  propose 
it  and  probably  a  greater  kindness  in  those — that  innu- 
merable multitude  who  saw  nothii^  in  it — to  at  still  and  be 
silent. 

"The  weight  of  seventy  six  years  bends  one's  shoulders  out 
of  shape  and  makes  him  unsuitable  for  carrying  the  burden 
of  great  honors  which  being  interperted  means  that  I  am  not  the 
man. 

"You  honored  me  by  speaking  of  the  Mooree.  God  bless 
the  boys.  Albert  was  my  first  convert  at  Hamilton  and  he  and 
Hobert  had  a  great  dinner  and  invited  me  and  several  other 
boys  to  the  frolic.  Do  give  my  love  to  them;  quarrel  with 
Prof.  Jones  continually  for  my  sake.  Tell  Dr.  Maynard  that 
he  and  I  and  a  few  other  Democrats  now  have  the  American 
Republic  in  ehai^  and  the  countiy  is  safe. 

"But  my  pen  runs  riot  and  I  must  put  on  my  curb 

"Ever  and  undyingly  yours." 


iiyGoot^lc 


628        LETTER  TO  DR.  M.  L.  WOOD 

He  sends  the  following  letter  back  to  the  Huntington  pastor, 
Rev.  M.  L.  Wood. 

"My  Deak  Brer  Wood, — I  made  a  clean  schedule  run 
for  home — lost  no  Ume,  sleep  was  taken  in  small  doses,  Vir- 
^uia  greeted  me  with  genial  sunlight  and  Careby  Hall,  though 
destitute  of  every  member  of  my  tribe,  was  warm  and  cheery 
in  its  welcome. 

"I  thou^t  that  rest  awaited  me,  but  all  the  bothers  of  the 
Academy  and  bundles  of  insistent  letters,  also  my  rebeUious 
big  toe,  sprang  on  me  and  tore  me  up. 

"But  I  am  living — Mark  that!  I  miss  Huntington  grievously. 
I  miss  you — your  sober  kindness  and  your  genial  helpful 
company.    You  build  me  up  outside  and  in.    I  miss  Mrs.  M.  L. 

W very  much  I  miss  her.    Her  mercies  were  renewed 

to  me  every  morning  in  cordial  treatment — also  in  cakes  and 
potatoes.  Miriam  invigorated  me  with  her  enthuaasm  as  a 
student  and  her  adoring  love  of  her  father.  John  commanded 
my  respect  by  his  early  rising,  his  devotion  to  his  school  and  his 
interest  in  the  meeting.  As  for  my  own  bojt — the  matchless 
lovely  Mathew  I  mourn  for  him.  I  need  him  now;  send  him 
to  me  by  express.  I  love  him  as  my  jewel  of  a  boy.  Tell  him  be 
must  come  on  and  be  my  boy. 

"But  I  am  working  today  for  a  new  church  having  been  in  a 
committee  on  plans  for  hours.  I  expect  to  be  in  Bluefield 
for  next  Sunday.    Do  tell  me  things. 

"Yours  very  much  in  love." 

He  writes  to  his  wife  on  February  1st  from  Fork  Union: 

"I  am  over-run  with  company  at  all  times  and  of  all  sorts. 
This  I  do  not  mind  as  it  is  what  I  live  for." 

From  Bhiefield,  W.  Va.,  where  he  is  holding  meetings  he, 
writes  on  February  6th: 

"My  deep  grief  is  that  I  do  not  seem  to  have  as  much  converting 
power  as  I  had  in  my  earlier  days.  This  may  be  owing  to 
general  conditions  in  part  at  least,  but  I  charge  it  up  against 
myself  and  groan  over  it.  But  I  do  not  forget  the  grace  that 
keeps  me  alive  and  ^ves  me  a  chance  and  strength  to  worit 
at  &11._ .    .    . 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BLIJEFIELD  629 

"My  eyes — or  rather  my  eye — gives  me  trouble  and  keeps 
me  from  readii^  and  makes  it  hard  for  me  to  write.  I  hope  for  a 
stenographer  in  a  day  or  two. 

"I  judge  the folly  is  over  but  I  almost  think  my 

work  with  the  Academy  is  coming  to  an  end." 

Ocasionally  his  Academy  burdens — in  connection  with  the 
many  other  loads  that  he  was  carrying — would  grow  ao  heavy 
and  grievous  that  he  would  think  that  he  could  not  stand  up 
under  them  any  longer  and  yet,  though  his  shoulders  would 
often  ache,  his  heart  would  rebel  when  he  would  come  to  the 
point  of  actual  surrender.  Dr.  E.  Z.  Simmons,  of  China,  wrote 
him  that  his  new  book  had  helped  him  to  be  a  better  man  and 
missionary.  But  let  us  look  in  upon  him  at  Bluefield.  Mrs. 
Mabie,  the  gifted  wife  of  the  Bluefield  pastor  thus  gives  a 
singularly  interesting  picture  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  visit: 

"One  cold  Saturday  night  in  February,  1911,  Mrs  Fleshman 
of  Appomattox  was  coming  to  Bluefield  to  vidt  her  sons.  Dr. 
Hatcher  was  on  the  trtun,  also  bound  for  Bluefield.  They  were 
acquaintances  of  long  standing  and  in  conversation  he  said, 
'I  never  dreaded  a  trip  more  in  my  life  than  this— to  go  to 
Bluefield  — that  wild  mountain  town  in  the  dead  of  winter. 
I  never  have  been  to  Bluefield  and  would  not  have  gone  now 
except  that  I  felt  so  sorry  for  that  poor  Yankee  boy  who  has 
come  to  live  with  the  Southerners  and  if  I  can  do  imything 
in  the  world  to  cement  the  tie  I  will  do  it." 

This  was  the  young  minister  whom  he  had  "introduced"  to 
the  Virginia  A-ssociation  and  had  in  kindly,  humorous  fashion 
twitted  with  being  a  "Yankee".  Mrs.  Mabie's  story  thus 
continues: 

"Mr.  Mabie  met  him  at  the  train  with  a  machine  and  took 
him  to  the  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Easley,  for  years  the  first 
Baptist  woman  in  Bluefield.  She  would  not  let  any  one  have 
the  honor  of  koming  him  while  here,  but  during  the  two  weeks 
of  his  stay  he  received  seventeen  invitations  to  dine  out  and 
accepted  every  one.  .  It  was  the  happy  privilege  of  Mr, 
Mabie  and  myself  to  share  these  invitations  and  visits  with 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


630  BLUEFIELD 

him.  ...  No  housewife  ever  a.sked  him  for  her  board 
without  rec^ving  many-fold  comptfisation  for  her  labor  in  the 
briUiani  after  dinner  tidk  of  which  Dr.  Hatcher  was  the  center 
and  circumference, — in  fact  the  whde  wheel  of  brilliant  turns 
and  rapid  movement.     .     .     . 

"...  One  bleak  rainy  moming  he  came  to  the  par- 
sonage and  stud,  'I  am  invited  to  dine  with  Cou^n  Tom  Haw- 
kins, will  you  please  direct  me  to  the  place.'  I  replied,  'That  is 
very  simple, — three  blocks  east  on  Princeton  Ave.,  and  one 
block  South  on  Bland  Street'.  He  said,  'I  don't  know 
where  Princeton  Ave.  is;  I  don't  know  where  Bland  St. 
b;  I  have  no  geographical  sense;  I  never  could  find  it  in  this 
world." 

"I  then  caught  the  idea  that  be  wished  me  to  pilot  him, 
so  I  hastily  donned  rubbers,  coat  and  umbrella  and  we  started 
out.  We  had  not  gone  far  when  he  s^d,  'Mrs.  Mabie  you  bave 
a  husband  who  brings  things  to  pass'  and  then  he  said  nuu^ 
cheering,  comforting,  complimentary  things  that  are  always 
sweet  to  the  ears  of  the  wife  of  that  much  slandered  personage — 
a  man  in  public  life.  Dr.  Hatcher  never  received  a  kindness 
nor  act  of  courtesy  without  immediately  returning  it  with 
interest;  he  never  allowed  himself  to  remain  in  debt  to  his 
friends,  but  kept  them  in  bounteous  store  from  the  riches  of 
his  generous  heart. 

"Another  rainy  night  I  went  with  him  from  the  car  to  Mrs. 
Easley's.  I  asked  Dr.  Hatcher:  'Why  dont  you  ever  tell  us 
about  your  family?'  Instantly  he  answered,  "That  is  an  agree- 
ment we  have;  no  one  member  is  ever  to  speak  of  another  mem- 
ber to  strangers'.  I  replied  'How  is  the  world  ever  to  know 
that  you  are  blessed  with  wife  and  children  if  you  never  men- 
tion them." 

"He  said,  'The  world  must  find  it  out  for  itself.'  But  he  did 
me  the  gracious  honor  of  stepping  over  the  barrier  and  he 
spoke  tenderly  and  lovingly  of  each  one.  Upon  another  oc- 
casion he  found  that  he  had  lost  his  handsome  overcoat.  He 
was  much  distressed  and  said,  'My  girls  gave  me  that  coat; 
they  certainly  are  very  good  to  their  old  father." 

"I  toid  him  one  day  that  he  was  just  the  age  of  my  father.  He 
looked  at  me  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  and  said,  'Write  to  that 
father  of  yours  and  tell  him  that  I  have  my  opinion  of  a  man 
who  does  not  know  any  more  than  to  sojourn  in  this  world 
for  more  than  sev«ity  years.    .    .    ." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


•  BLUEFIELD  631 

"The  distii^uishing  feature  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  meeting  was  hia 
wonderful  hold  upon  young  men  and  boya.  A  row  of  boys  on 
the  front  seat  was  the  rule.  He  was  simply  irresistible;  the 
boys  could'nt  stay  away.  Over  fifty  came  into  the  church 
and  many  of  them  were  youths  just  bursting  into  manhood  and 
womanhood.  Mr.  Mabie  always  counted  it  the  most  blessed 
meeting  of  his  ministry.     .     . 

"I  fear  the  ideas  I  have  suggested  are  very  meager  and  will 
not  be  of  much  value.  The  trouble  is,  Dr.  Hatcher  was  too 
great  for  his  friends  to  measure." 

His  correspondence  in  Bluefield  was  heavy.  His  stenographer 
at  that  place  wrote  me  after  his  death  that,  if  I  desired  it, 
she  could  write  out  again  from  her  notes  the  letters  which  he  had 
written  while  there.  The  following  quotations  are  made  from 
the  letters  which  were  sent  me  by  this  lady  sten<^Tapher. 

These  letters  by  Dr.  Hatcher  read  as  if  he  felt  he  was  moving 
near  the  border  Hne  and  mi^t  be  summoned  into  the  other 
world  at  any  moment  and  as  if  he  desired,  therefore,  to  make 
each  one  as  cheering  and  as  stimulating  as  possible.  It  is  ejl 
interesting  picture, — that  of  him,  now  in  his  seventy-seventh 
year,  sending  out  letters  in  every  direction,  as  if  he  stood  upon 
some  pleasant,  eminence  and  was  seeking  to  scatter  comfort  to 
his  comrades  and  to  hearten  them  for  their  task. 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  these,  and  other,  letters  which  he 
wrote  at  Bluefield  are  available  for  use  in  this  biography  simply 
because  the  stenographer  that  wrote  for  him  in  Bluefield  was 
thoughtful  enough  to  send  the  copies.  But  he  was  a  busy 
letter  writer  almost  everywhere  be  went  and  these  are  merely 
spedmens  of  the  efforts  at  helpfulness  which  he  was  putting 
forth  as  he  moved  from  pomt  to  point.  To  his  old  <3olIege 
friend.  Dr.  Geoi^e  W.  Hyde  of  Missouri,  he  writes  on  Feb- 
ruary 7th: 

"I  feel  that  I  want  to  tell  you  that  our  friendship  which 
began"  in  the  stormy  days  of  the  Civil  War  has  never  lost  its 
freshness.  My  faith  in  you  has  been  unmeasured  and  my 
affection  for  you  has  grown,  though  our  meetings  have  been 
infrequent  and  rarely  allowed  any  close  soul  communion. 


jdnyGoOt^lc 


632  LETTERS  WRITTEN  AT  BLUEFIELD 

"Your  quiet,  unselfish  life  has  commanded  my  admiration. 
I  have  had  to  walk  so  much  in  the  glare  of  publicity  that  I  have 
admired  those  who  could  be  sober  and  thoughtful  as  you  have 
always  seemed  to  me  to  be. 

"The  fine  things  you  stud  about  my  last  book  gave  me  un* 
common  pleasure.  The  book  itself  has  had  prfuse  enough,  even 
from  the  critics  and  the  unsacred  Press,  and  of  course  friends 
have  been  pleased  to  write  me  from  everywhere  about  it.  The 
book  has  struck  a  pace  and  has  won  a  place  in  literature  which 
I  did  not  expect  to  find  and  of  course  it  has  quickened  my  intel- 
lectual pride. 

"What,  however,  has  pleased  me  far  more  is  the  note  of 
comfort  it  has  carried  to  many.  I  thank  God  that  I  could 
write  a  book  of  which  it  could  be  s^d  that,  while  it  was  filled 
with  personalities,  it  gave  forth  no  voice  of  censure  or  repro- 
bation. Of  course  we  all  have  our  scraps  and  strains  in  a 
world  so  discordant  as  this  and  some  of  our  scars  never  heal 
without  leaving  the  seams  of  the  hard  strifes,  but  I  am  sure 
that  you  and  I  could  take  leave  of  this  world  and  wave  back 
a  cheerful  good  evening  and  forget  the  ills  and  wrongs  which 
have  hit  us. 

"I  never  meant  to  write  reminiscences,  but  I  never  had  that 
mental  independence  which  held  me  inflexibly  to  my  purpose. 
My  publisher  whipped  my  last  book  out  of  me  and  he  and  my 
preacher  son  are  scouring  me  to  the  writing  of  another  book, 
which  I  suppose  will  be  ready  for  the  press  by  the  beginning 
of  Summer.  I  write  neither  for  fortune  nor  for  fame,  for  I  have 
learned  to  live  without  either  and  when  my  end  comes  I  will 
need  neither." 

The  new  book,  to  which  he  refers  in  this  letter  has  not  yet 
been  published.  The  Stories  in  it  have  been  appearing  in  the 
Watchman — Examiner  of  New  York  and  they  are  expected 
to  be  published  in  book  from  after  the  appearance  of  this 
biography. 

A  pastor  in  Virpnia  in  inviting  him  to  preach  the  dedi- 
catory sermon  for  his  new  church  had  apparently  asked  him 
his  charges  for  such  a  service.    In  his  reply  he  says: 

"I  believe  that  I  have  never  on  any  occa^on  named  the 
emoimt  that  I  was  to  receive  for  my  services.    That  I  most 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LETTERS  WRITTEN  AT  BLUEFIELD  633 

cheerfully  leave  to  the  church  feeling  assured  that  whatever 
they  do  will  be  satirfactory  to  me.  I  will  be  far  more  anxioua 
about  what  they  will  get  out  of  me  than  I  will  be  as  what  I  wili 
get  out  of  them  and  on  that  score  I  have  never  had  to  complain 
of  the  treatment  of  my  brethren  who  called  me  into  their 


To  Rev.  Dr.  A.  W.  Lamar  of  Sioux  City  he  writes: 

I  am  at  work  now  on  another  book,  intended  more  especially 
for  ministers,  and  designed  more  specifically  to  help  them  in 
their  pulpit  ministrations. 

"...  May  God  have  a  blessing  for  you  in  every  sermon 
you  preach." 

To  Rev.  B.  W.  Sanders,  of  Greenville,  S.  C,  he  writes  on 
the  16th  the  following  letter  which  takes  the  reader  "behind 
the  scenes," 

"I  would  be  an  ingrate  if  I  did  not  drop  you  a  word  in  re- 
sponse to  your  genial  and  refreshing  card. 

"I  confess  that  my  venture  in  the  field  of  authorship  was 
not  under  the  nagging  of  the  commercial  spur.  Of  course  this 
book,  as  yet,  is  on  its  first  nm  and  no  word  has  passed  between 
the  publisher  and  myself  as  to  its  financial  success.  I  judge 
that  in  due  season  it  will  bring  something  in  the  way  of 
royalty. 

"The  school  at  Fork  Union,  supposed  to  be  a  mine  of  gold 
to  me,  has  never  yielded  me  one  copper  of  income  though  it 
has  offered  it  to  me  several  times,  but  the  school  has  needed 
my  help  so  much  that  I  felt  it  was  more  necessary,  if  not  more 
blessed,  to  pve  than  receive,  and  much  of  what  little  comes  my 
way  goes  into  the  life  of  that  school  in  the  way  of  helping  very 
^fted  and  ambitious,  needy  boys.  That  is  one  of  the  choicest 
investments  of  my  last  days  and  serves  to  keep  my  heart 
young  and  my  hands  busy.  I  speak  with  a  candor,  not  very 
usual  in  a  letter  like  this,  but  provoked  in  this  case  by  the 
affectionate  and  frank  tone  of  your  letter. 

"It  must  be  glorious  to  live  in  Greenville  and  I  rejoice  that 
you  have  that  pleasure  in  these  days  of  your  ripened  prime. 
I  read  the  Courier  and  my  eyes  kindle  with  friendly  light 
whtmever  I  hit  upon  anything  from  your  pen." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


634  LETTERS  WRITTEN  AT  BLUEFIELD 

The  pastor  at  Cl^nson,  S.  C,  was  Rev.  T.  C.  McCaul,  cnte 
of  his  old  Grace  Street  boys.  He  had  moitioQed  him  in  a 
loving  paragraph  in  the  book,  "Along  the  Trail  etc."  He 
received  a  letter  from  "Tom"  and  in  reply  he  writes  on  the  10th: 

"My  Dgar  Tom,—  .  .  .  And  so  your  eyes  fell  upon 
the  brief  paragraph  in  my  new  book  in  which  is  embalmed  my 
love  aad  memory  of  you,  I  am  glad  to  have  put  it  there  and 
those  who  love  me  and  read  my  book  mil  know  how  I  love  you, 
but  now  that  I  have  put  it  there,  1  want  you  to  remember,  my 
young  lad,  that  you  must  Kve  up  to  it.  Solon  said  that  he 
counted  no  man  happy  until  he  was  dead,  but  I  have  counted 
you  happy  while  you  are  living  and  have  enshrined  you  in  my 
book.  I  am  glad  the  book  gave  you  comfort  and  heartened 
you  for  the  sterner  tasks  of  the  ministry.  It  is  the  hard  things 
we  have  to  do  which  do  the  most  for  us  and  count  the  most 
for  others. 

"I  rejoice  in  Tom  II.  You  know  what  I  think  of  Tom  I.,  and 
tphile  my  thoughts  of  him  are  all  of  love,  I  hope  Tom  II.  will 
far  eclipse  Tom  I.  in  every  element  of  greatness.  Tell  your 
wife  I  can't  forget  my  happy  visit  to  the  parsonage  at  Orange, 
nor  the  bright  and  cheery  way  in  which  she  treated  me,  and  I 
trust  that  she  will  keep  you  straight  and  inspire  you  to  great 
achievements." 

Rev.  Robert  H,  Winfree  of  Chesterfield  was  the  young 
ministerial  friend  with  whom  he  had  spent  many  days  of  happy 
fellowship.    He  loved  Robert  with  a  fatherly  affection. 

"My  Dear  Robert, — If  you  would  get  stronger,  as  it  is 
your  solemn  duty  to  do,  and  make  up  your  mind  like  a  gentle- 
man that  you  will  live  and  labor  twenty-five  years  longer,  I 
would  like  for  you  to  preach  every  other  Sunday  afternoon  at 
Chesterfield,  stick  to  old  Mount  Hermon,  ride  in  the  Bethel 
Chariot  and  bring  things  to  pass  at  Midlothian.  That  would 
pull  the  sweat  out  of  you  and  make  a  new  man  of  you. 

"It  has  been  two  months  since  I  saw  you  and  I  am  engaged 
for  March.  That  puts  our  contacts  too  far  apart.  We  must 
get  closer  together  and  tighten  the  ties  tmtil  the  time  of  my 
going  comes.  Give  my  love  to  ever  dear  Mrs.  Winfree.  I 
write  her  name  high  on  the  roll  of  friendship  and,  as  for  you, 
you  are  the  joy  of  my  soul. 

"As  ever  and  even  more  so." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LETTERS  WRITTEN  ATBLUEFIELD  635 

The  earlier  pages  of  this  biography  tells  how  in  the  Summer 
of  1866,  at  a  meeting  at  Hopeful  church  ia  Louisa  County,  he 
told  a  young  man  that  he  believed  the  reason  be  would  not 
become  a  christian  was  that  he  was  afrad  he  would  have  to 
preach  the  gospel  and  he  secured  his  promise  that  he  would,  that 
night  on  his  knees,  either  surrender  to  Christ  or  else  bum  his 
Bible  and  abandon  Christianity.  The  next  morning  tiie  young 
man  made  his  public  confession  of  Christ  and  soon  started  for 
the  Seminary.  For  many,  many  years  this  man  Rev.  Dr.  W. 
Carter  IJndsay,  had  been  the  pastor  of  the  First  Baptist 
Church  in  Columbia,  S.  C,  and  was  called  the  Nestor  of  South 
Carolina  Baptists.  Dr.  Hatcher  wrote  him  the  following  letter 
from  Bluefield: 

"My  Beloved  Friend, — From  the  far  away  day  when  I 
gave  you  the  glad  hand  at  Hopeful  on  the  morning  when  you 
first  declared  your  alle^ance  to  Christ,  I  have  loved  you  and  eH 
that  pertained  to  you  has  been  of  concern  to  me. 

"I  feel  a  certain  pride  of  seniority  about  you,  a  little  paternal 
pride  in  my  relationship  to  you  and  ever  so  much  joy  in  the 
honorable  career  that  you  have  had. 

"With  the  best  wishes  of  a  fifty-year  friendship  I  greet  you 
and  wish  you  peace  and  honor  in  this  world  and  glory  in  the 
other." 

This  letter  brought  the  following  reply  from  Dr.  Lindsay: 

"CoLnuBU,  S.  C,  February  16th,  1911. 

"My  DsAH  Bro,  Hatcher, — Your  letter  juicy  as  an  orai^;e 
Bxid  sweet  as  your  dear  old  heart  comes  Uke  music  across  water. 
You  have  never  left  my  field  of  vision  since  that  natal  day  in  old 
Hopeful  and  will  never  leave  it  either  on  this  or  the  other  ade 
of  the  BO-called  great  Divide.  I  have  a  million  things  to  talk 
to  you  about  but  cant  write.   So  come  and  stay  a  month. 

"Yes  the  parsonage  and  full  salary  for  life  is  good  and  unusual 
provision  by  the  church — but  not  when  you  know  the  church.    . 


"From  the  top  of  71  years  (yesterday)  I  send  my  heart 
freighted  with  a  half  century  of  love. 

"W.  C.  lindaay." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


636  LETTERS  WRITTEN  AT  BLUEFIELD 

He  wiites  od  the  11th  to  Rev.  C.  E.  Burta: 

"My  Beloved  Friend, — I  have  no  business  on  earth  with 
you  except  to  say  that  I  love  you  with  a  devotion  that  deepens 
steadily;  I  love  your  wife  as  much  as  I  love  you,  and  as  much 
more  as  she  is  more  lovely  than  you,  and  as  for  Charles  II, 
ray  brave  and  beautiful  Charles,  I  recall  now  my  glimpse 
of  him  in  Baltimore.  He  looked  the  grand  little  chap  that  he  is 
and  my  soul  knit  to  him.  The  precious  little  scamp  actually 
loved  me  before  he  knew  what  loving  was  and  that,  of  course, 
made  me  love  him. 

"I  hope  things  go  well  with  you,  and  no  matter  which  way 
they  go  I  am  fixed  in  the  belief  that  you  will  never  come  out 
of  South  Carolina  till  you  scale  the  heights  of  the  invisible 
world  and  take  citizensMp  in  the  Delectable  City. 

"There  is  little  need  to  writ*  anything  about  myself.  I 
may  be  permitted  to  report  that  I  am  still  living,  and  though  the 
only  crop  which  I  am  now  growing  is  a  crop  of  infirmities,  I 
find  it  pleasant  to  live. 

"My  thoughts  run  much  of  late  on  book  making." 

To  his  ever  dear  friend  Dr.  Charles  H.  Ryland  he  writes: 

"My  Dbab  Chahles, — It  has  been  my  reproach  that  I  did 
not  at  once  write  to  you  after  reading  carefully  your  address 
at  the  Seminary  in  Louisville.  I  must  confess  that  your  output 
on  that  occasion  was  to  me  one  of  the  most  interesting  and 
refreshing  things  that  has  come  under  my  eye  for  ever  so  long. 

"I  was  surprised  that  you  could  command,  either  by  your 
memory  or  imagination,  such  a  rich  store  of  historical  and  per- 
sonal incident,  and  you  command  my  admiration  by  the  adroit 
and  practised  manner  in  which  you  wove  these  things  into  an 
address.  I  read  every  word  of  it  and  I  went  back  over  some 
of  it  and  read  it  agfun  and  got  ever  so  much  rejuvenation  and 
joy  out  of  it. 

"1  said  at  the  alumni  meeting  in  Roanoke  in  the  way  of 
pleasantry  that  you  and  Shipman  are  always  looking  down  on 
me  from  supercilious  heights  because  I  had  never  been  to  the 
Seminary.  That  was  purely  a  joke,  bom  of  the  occasion  and 
dying  with  it,  but  after  your  address  I  am  free  to  say  that  you 
have  a  right  to  look  down  on  me.  The  Seminary  did  impersisb- 
able  things  for  you  and  helped  you  up  so  much  that  I  will 
recognize  your  superiority  and  will  accept  thankfully  the 
downward  look  of  my  ever  noble  and  cherisjied  friend. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


.    LETTERS  WRITTEN  AT  BLUEFIELD  637 

"I  have  always  bad  something  against  you  and  never  felt 
it  80  keenly  since  I  read  that  address,  I  have  told  you  that 
your  pen  was  grudging  and  reluctant;  you  have  seemed  to  have 
no  sense  of  obligation  to  write  and  the  result  is  that  you  have 
written  nothing  as  compared  with  what  you  can  write  and  which 
the  people  would  gladly  read  if  you  would  write. 

"I  hope  they  are  pulling  you  out  of  the  treadmill  of  your 
old  office  and  giving  you  ample  provision  for  comparative 
leisure  and  in  that  way  opening  to  you  the  opportunity  of 
speaking  to  the  people  more  than  you  have  in  the  past.  Why 
not  write  a  book,  a  book  embodying  your  thoughts  which 
have  been  bom  along  the  way  and  which  have  ripened  with 
your  years.  I  find  that  people  want  something  out  of  the  hfe 
of  men  whom  they  believe  in.  Even  in  my  own  little  trial  at 
authorship  of  late  I  have  found  that  my  pen  is  far  more  power- 
ful than  my  voice,  and  surely  there  is  an  audience  on  the  earth 
aw^ting  any  message  that  you  would  be  wiUing  to  give." 

To  Dr.  R.  M.  Inlow,  pastor  of  the  Eirst  Baptist  Church  of 
Nashville,  Tenn,,  he  writes: 

"In  the  crash  and  confusion  of  Xmas  time  I  failed  to  answer 
your  lovely  letter.  .  .  I  feel  that  God  has  given  you  the 
mastery  and  freedom  of  your  great  pastorate  and  that  makes  me 
rejoice  greatly, 

"And  yet  it  occurs  to  me  that  I  have  somewhat  against 

you.    I  went  to  J L at  the  Southern  Baptist 

Convention  and  asked  him  to  make  you  reply  to  the  address 
of  welcome  and  he  told  me  that  he  was  going  to  do  it.  He 
looked  up  another  man  at  once,  one  of  my  own  children — Hurt 

of  Arkuisas.    I  collared  L — — on  the  spot  and  asked  him 

how  about  Inlow,  and  he  told  me  that  you  would  not  do  it. 
Of  course  you  had  a  right  to  decline  but  I  did  not  want  you  to 
dechne.  I  wanted  the  people  to  see  you  and  to  bear  you,  but 
never  mind,  you  do  as  you  please  and  work  out  your  own  destiny. 

"There  is  one  thing,  however,  you  can't  do,  I  defy  you  to 
do  it,  and  that  is  to  keep  me  from  thinkii^  you  are  a  royally 
fine  fellow  and  I  hope  you  will  not  atop  tiJI  you  stand  on  the 
white  hills  of  human  glory. 

"Show  your  wife  what  I  told  you  about  not  making  that 
speech  and  ask  her  to  please  be  on  my  side  about  it.  Whenever 
you  get  lonesome  and  feel  that  you  have  no  friends,  then,  write 
to  one  friend  that  you  have  who  does  not  amount  to  much." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


638  LETTERS  WRITTEN  AT  BLUEFIELD 

He  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hairy  Schmelz  of  Hampton 
regarding  Mr.  Schmelz's  brother  George  who  had  recently 
died  and  who  until  his  death  had  been  the  teacher  of  one  of  the 
largest  men's  classes  in  Virginia.    He  replies  as  follows: 

"It  seems  that  the  world  grew  dark  when  George  died,  but 
the  love  which  breathes  in  your  letter  brii^  back  much  of  the 
light. 

"Let  us  get  closer  together  and  let  us  confer  together,  let 
us  cheer  and  inspire  each  other — that  is,  for  the  httle  while  that 
I  am  allowed  to  stay  on  this  ade  of  the  river. 

"I  write  more  especially  to  express  my  joy  that  you  have 
taken  George's  Bible  class;  that  takes  from  me  a  great  anx- 
iety— a  dread  lest  the  masterpiece  of  George's  life,  should  sud- 
denly crumble  to  pieces.  I  believe  that  you  are  the  man  to 
make  it  greater  ih&a  even  George  ever  made  it ;  you  are  capable 
of  it;  you  always  do  your  best  in  whatever  you  undertake,  and 
you  have  in  George's  record  an  adequate  inspiration  to  move 
you  forward  with  the  task. 

"If  you  find  at  any  time  and  in  any  way  I  can  ever  help  you 
about  that  class,  command  me;  I  will  go  to  Hampton  at  any 
possible  time  if  there  is  anything  that  I  could  possibly  do  to 
inspire  the  class  to  greater  things.  Simplify  your  life  as  far  as 
you  can  and  concentrate  your  forces  on  that  class;  it  is  a  work 
for  a  master  hand  and  will  call  out  the  best  of  your  brains  and 
of  your  soul ;  it  will!  make  you  a  greater  and  a  happier  man  just 
in  proportion  to  the  ardor  and  patience  with  which  you  ^ve  to 
it  your  leadership  and  your  love.. 

"I  thank  you  for  opening  the  gates  of  your  hospitality; 
it  looks  as  if  I  have  scant  time  for  sociability.  I  go  nowhere 
except  where  work  calls  me  and  it  calls  me  down  many  ways  into 
which  I  can't  enter,  but  I  hope  the  Lord  will  open  the  way  to 
go  to  Hampton  to  see  you," 

He  writes  regarding  the  Academy,  "I  have  been  wishing  for 
some  time  that  things  could  come  to  the  stage  where  I  could 
trust  the  Academy  to  live  without  me,— a  thing  which  it  will 
have  to  do  any  how  in  a  little  while,  or  not  live  at  all." 

His  friendships  included  ia  their  happy  circle  men  in  many 
walks  of  hfe.  There  was  a  brilliant  lawyer,  whom  he  had  met 
while  holding  meetings  in  another  state.   This  g^itleman,  much 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


MITTEHS  WRITTEN  AT  BLUEFIELD  639 

younger  than  he,  was  not  a  christian  and  to  him  Dr.  Hatcher 
writes  from  Bluefieid — from  which  place  all  the  letters  in  this 
series  were  written: 

"My  Dear  Tom, — I  can't  hold  out  any  longer.  My  thoughts 
nm  after  you  in  the  day  and  watch  around  you  at  night.  You 
have  an  undisputed  seat  in  the  castle  of  my  life  and  I  shall 
cherish  you  as  long  as  I  live. 

"When  yesterday  I  got  a  letter  from  Dr.  Wood  telling  me 
that  he  saw  you  in  his  congregation  every  Sunday  morning,  my 
heart  grew  warm  and  tender  towards  you.  It  makes  me  feel 
that  you  are  coming;  I  fee!  truly  that  the  hand  of  God  is  upon 
you  and  that  you  are  to  be  one  of  God's  leaders  yet.  I  do  not 
write  to  upbrEud  you,  or  lecture  you,  but  simply  to  tell  you  that 
you  live  in  my  heart  and  I  can't  be  happy  in  my  thoughts 
about  you  till  I  hear  the  good  news.  Your  heart  is  filled  with 
good  convictions,  and  if  you  will  follow  them  they  will  in  a 
httle  while  bring  you  into  the  light. 

"Your  place  is  among  Christians  and  not  among  the  scep- 
tical and  ignoble.  I  am  going  to  keep  my  ear  to  the  ground 
until  it  catches  the  joyful  news.  I  think  I  speak  truthfully 
when  I  say  that  I  am  more  interested  in  your  conversion  than 
in  that  of  any  other  man  in  the  world.  Don't  wait  until  you  join 
the  church  to  write  to  me,  but  do  not  make  it  long  before  you 
write  to  me  that  you  have  joined  the  church. 

"Do  not  write  to  me  imless  you  feel  like  it  but  keep  on  loving 
me  as  I  really  believe  you  do,  but  friendship  is  a  game  at 
which  I  somehow  feel  that  I  can  usually  beat  the  other  fellow. 
My  soul  was  made  for  comradeship  and  when  I  run  up  on  a 
fellow  hke  you,  I  put  my  grappling  hooks  in  him  down  to  the 
marrow  of  his  bones,  but  I  am  sure  you  think  far  more  of  me 
than  I  am  worthy  of,  and  that  is  all  that  I  ask." 

In  reply,  his  lawyer  friend  wrote  as  follows : 

"My  Dear  Friend,  Gcide  and  Counselor, — When  I  asked 
John  Henry  Cammack  where  I  should  direct  a  letter  to  you 
he  replied  in  that  poative,  breezy  way  of  his,  'Why  Sir,  you 
might  direct  it  to  Wra.  E,  Hatcher,  Virginia,  and  he  would 
receive  it;  he  is  that  well  known  in  Viigima.'  I  am  directii^ 
this  letter,  however,  to  the  Post  Office  of  your  pet  institution. 
Fork  Union,  where  that  Academy  stands  and  for  unnumbered 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


640     HIS  BELOVED  LAWYER  FRIEND 

years,  let  as  hope,  will  stand  as  one  of  the  moDumenta  of  your 
faithful  work  for  your  state  and  country  and  for' man. 

"Of  course  you  need  not  to  be  told  how  much  I  price  your  letter 
and  how  much  I  shall  prize  it  to  the  end  of  my  days,  for  you  are 
one  of  the  men  who  know.  I  realize  full  well  how  strenous  and 
faithful  your  labors  are  in  this  world,  how  day  by  day,  you  give 
the  ener^es  of  your  hfe  freely  and  fervently  to  christian  civ- 
ilization and  yet  I  am  selfish  enough  to  place  this  added  taxa- 
tion upon  you ;  you  have  put  your  hand  to  the  plow  in  the  way 
of  our  personal  friendBhip  and  love  and  you  must  not  turn 
back,  that  is  to  say  you  must  write  letters  to  me  even  thou^ 
their  writing  becomes  an  irksome  task  to  you.     .     .     ." 

This  letter  probably  reached  him  upcm  his  return  to  Fork 
Union,  and  while  at  Charlottesville  he  wrote  his  friend  the  fol- 
lowing reply : 

"My  own  Dear  Tom, — ^Your  letter  was  a  thing  of  beauty. 
It  had  to  me  the  charm  of  a  poem.  I  read  it  with  unfeigned 
joy,  and  a  moisture  was  on  my  eyelids  as  I  read.  It  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  express  my  appredation  of  you;  I  love 
you  with  a  great,  hot,  trusting,  Eulmiring  affection.  In  some 
way,  you  appeal  to  the  depths  of  my  soul.  There  are  few  men 
of  whom  I  think  so  much,  or  with  such  vast  and  deepening 
interest.  Your  life  has  crept  into  me  and  taken  root  in  a  dozen 
spots,  and  I  feel  that  we  have  been  together  for  ever, — at  any 
rate,  we  will  be  together  for  ever  and  ever.  I  am  pleased 
with  myself  in  one  point,  at  least,  which  concerns  you.  You 
have  not  gone  so  far  in  the  way  of  faith  as  I  feel  you  must  go 
and  will  go,  but  I  do  not  get  impatient  with  you;  my  soul 
waits  on  you  and  watches  for  your  coming,  lamahttleafraid; 
I  must  confess  that  I  get  uneasy  lest  the  tide  should  bear  me 
out  before  I  should  see  you  cross  the  bar  coming  in.  If  I  was 
dying,  and  my  mind  was  clear,  I  would  say  to  myself,  'Tom 
will  come  after  awhile.'  If  you  could  hasten  your  coming  and 
let  me  enjoy  it  before  I  go,  I  do  not  know  whether  I  would  like 
you  any  better;  but  I  would  like  to  see  you  come  in  and  have 
a  while  to  enjoy  it.  There  are  some  restnuning  ties  in  your 
life  which  I  do  not  understand;  some  points  about  which  I  do 
not  know  how  to  help  you.  I  feel  sorry  about  it.  Possibly 
you  might  tell  me  more  about  yourself  some  time,  and  we  may 
be  able  to  get  closer  together;  and,  if  it  should  be  that  way,  I 
Bhall  foe  wonderfuUyJglad. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  BELOVED  LAWYER  FRIEND     641 

"I  need  give  you  no  news;  it  would  hardly  interest  you.  And 
yet  you  ought  to  know  that  I  had  a  gloiious  revivd  in  Blue- 
field;  a  gracious  meeting  at  Fork  Union,  in  which  many  of  the 
Cadets  were  saved;  now  I  am  closing  a  good  meeting  with  the 
First  church  in  Charlottesville;  and  this  with  my  seventy- 
fdx  years  on  my  shoulders  and  my  love  of  God,  and  with  you, 
Tom,  in  my  heart,  I  am  pulling  along  as  happy  ss  I  can  be;  but 
not  so  happy,  Tom,  not  so  happy,  Tom  as  I  am  going  to  be 
when  you  step  over  the  line  and  I  hful  you  as  a  brother  in 
Jesus  Christ. 

"Do  not  forget  me;  now  and  then  write  a  letter,  and  let  us 
stick  together  with  the  tenacity  of  an  ever-growing  friendship. 

"I  am,  dear  Tom,  a  believer  in  you." 

In  writing  to  a  friend  about  his  joy  in  "book  making"  he 

says: 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  have  ever  gotten  as  much  assurance 
of  my  usefulness  in  the  pulpit  as  comes  to  me  in  regard  to  the 
book.  I  am  working  on  another  and  probably  if  life  and 
strength  continue  there  may  be  two  or  three  more  before  my 
pen  is  set  at  hberty.  .  ,  And  yet  I  cant  live  without  con- 
tact with  the  people." 

To  literary  men  authorship  sometimes  brings  rich  delight. 
Throughout  his  ministerial  life.  Dr.  Hatcher  had  been  helpmg 
people  by  his  sermons.  But  his  book  opened  a  new  fountain 
in  his  soul.  This  book  was  like  a  courier,  who  having  gathered 
up  treasures  along  the  trail  of  his  friendly  years  was  carrying 
them  into  ahnost  every  country  of  earth  and  the  thought  was 
delightful  to  him  that  while  with  his  own  lips  he  was  proclaim- 
ing the  gospel  there  was  also  his  books  that  were  busy  at  the 
same  task.    To  Rev.  J.  M.  Beadles  he  writes: 

"About  the  best  that  I  can  say  of  the  book  ia  that  I  am  re- 
ceiving almost  every  day  letters  from  many  states  and  scores 
of  our  preachers  which  tell  me  of  the  comfort  and  spiritual 
exaltaUon  which  the  book  brings  to  them.  .  .  .  but 
poorly  as  I  do  it  the  deUght  of  my  hfe  is  to  preach  and  I  can't 
recover  from  the  ever-flaming  pas^on  for  souls.  To  save  the 
people  is  the  heavenliest  thing  of  all  the  earth.    .    .    . 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


642  ACADEMY  BUEDENS 

"The  Academy  flourishes  though  I  find  it  an  increaang  bur- 
den on  my  shoulders  and  you  need  not  wonder  if  it  ^otdd 
come  to  you  before  very  long  that  I  have  decided  to  let  other 
shoulders  ache  and  groan  under  its  weight." 

Regarding  bis  meetings  in  Bluefield  the  Herald  says:  "The 
most  far  reaching  meeting  ever  held  in  the  city  was  the  one 
in  which  Dr.  Hatcher  aided  Dr.  Mabie." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XIJZI 
1911 

CONTINUOUS  ACTITITIBS.      IC&BmNaS  AT  FOCOUOSX.      ADDBB8S  AT 

HEKBDTTH  COLLBQE.      BAPTIST  WOULD  ALLIANCS.      OOBBXS- 

PONDENCB.      BIB  ENBUIBS.      BALTIHO&B  BTATB  UIS- 

filON  BANQUBT.     ADDHESS  BKFDBB  OOUSOB 

TSMBTTSBB.      OFTOflSIf .      OLD  AOB. 

Prom  Charlottesville  where  he  was  holding  meetiDga — 
after  hia  meeting  with  the  cadets  at  the  Academy — ^he  writes 
that  his  ailments  wefe  still  oppresmng  him  and  then  he  adds 
"Work  is  my  most  effective  medicine." 

"What  a  hfe  you  are  leading"  writes  Dr.  O.  H.  Bylaiul  "I 
call  it  gtrmwnta.  I  could  not  understand  it  if  I  were  to  tiy 
a  year.  .  .  Please  take  care  of  yourself  old  boy."  Mr. 
W.  W.  Baker,  member  of  the  Legislature,  writes  bim: 

"If  there  has  \>eea  any  good  influeuces  exerted  in  the  slips 
and  slides  of  my  life,  they  can  be  traced  to  the  influences 
exerted  by  Dr.  W.  E.  Hatcher." 

He  rec«ved  a  striking  letter  from  Boston: 

"Mt  Deab  Db.  Hatcbeb, — I  have  just  b^ea  to  the  Public 
library  and  found  there  your  'Along  the  Trail  of  the  Friendly 
Years,' 

"A  newspaper  of  a  few  days  ago  states  that  you  had  juat 
passed  your  76  birthday.  I  have  not  quite  attained  my  70th 
and  feel  sometimeB  that  my  hfe  has  been  useless  and  has  nearly 
reached  its  hmit.  Yet  you  have  written  the  two  most  readable 
books  in  the  language  since  you  were  my  age, — 'John  Jasper* 
and  'Aloi^  the  T^wl  of  the  fnendly  Years'.  I  repeat  the  long 
Q43 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


644  LETTER  TO  ORIE 

title  because  I  like  it.    It  gives  one  a  feeling  of  a  long  Summer 
melody  and  hannony. 

"Not  that  the  book  shows  your  life  to  have  been  all  mu^c — 
you  have  had  your  strenuous  times  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us. 

"You  remember  the  king's  remark  to  Johnson, — having 
told  Dr.  Johnson  that  be  hoped  he  would  write  more  and  John- 
son having  replied  that  he  thought  that  he  bad  written  enough, 
the  Idng  instantly  said,  'I  should  have  thoi^ht  so  also  had 
you  nol  toriUen  so  weU. 

"With  great  resi)ect, 

"Yours  Sincerely, 

"E.  E.  Lewis." 

To  One  at  Bryn  Mawr  be  writes  on  March  14th : 

"I  blush  with  guilt.  So  full  is  my  slate  with  meetii^  dedi- 
cations and  things  and  things  that  not  a  day  of  rest  or  aodal 
indulgence  is  left  me.  It  is  sorrow  indeed  not  to  come.  My 
love  of  work  must  be  abnormal  for  I  am  always  welcoming 
calls  and  eagerly  making  engagements.  So  Bryn  Mawr  and 
three  as  lovely  girls  as  any  common  father  ever  had  must  be 
regratfuUy  denied.    It  ia  a  cut  in  my  heart  to  do  it.     .     .     . 

"Thanks  and  love  to  you  whom  I  love  so  much  and  to  my 
other  two  ever  enshrined  in  my  heart. 

"As  ever  and  forever." 

His  grandson  will  ever  prize  the  following  letter: 

"Chablottesvillb,  Va.,  March,  16th,  1911. 
"Master  William  E.  Hatcher,  Jr., 

"Baltimore,  Md.: 
"Mt  Dear  Ever  Cherished  Boy, —  ...  I  must  thank 
heaven  that  I  have  a  grandson  and  such  a  grandson  as  you  are. 
In  all  the  world  you  are  the  only  one  who  bears  my  name,  I  am 
very  fond  of  my  name;  they  have  called  me  William  E.  Hatcher 
for  nearly  seventy-seven  years  and  for  sixty-six  years  of  that 
time  I  have  had  the  name  all  to  myself  and  then  you  began 
to  wear  the  name.  On  all  the  earth,  so  far  as  I  know,  you  are 
the  only  living  being  who  dares  to  wear  my  name  and  to  wear 
it  as  a  name  which  you  took  from  me.  It  makes  me  really 
proud  that  you  have  my  name.  Wherever  you  go  it  tells  that 
you  and  I  are  linked  very  close;  we  have  exactly  the  same  name. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHARLOTTESVILLE  6« 

After  awbile  I  will  have  no  further  use  for  the  name  and  then  it 
will  be  yours  all  to  your  self.  I  hope  to  leave  it  to  you  with 
out  any  bad  scratches  on  it  and  I  have  a  great  hope  that  you 
will  make  it  greater  and  more  honorable  than  it  has  ever  bem. 

"I  have  great  ambitions  for  you;  I  desire  that  you  will  cul- 
tivate among  other  good  habits  the  habit  of  writing.  Leaiii. 
all  about  words,  their  different  shades  of  meanit^  and  write 
sentences  with  big  words  in  them  and  learn  to  use  the  words 
in  just  exactly  their  right  meaiui^.  Your  father  has  written 
several  books  and  your  grandfather  has  played  a  little  at  book 
making,  but  you  must  tower  far  above  both  of  us  and  write 
books  that  will  be  read  all  around  the  world. 

One  morning  this  week  I  opened  my  mail  and  there  were 
three  letters  in  it  about  one  of  my  books,  one,  from  a  great 
preacher  in  Memphis,  Tenn;  one,  from  a  learned  Judge  of 
Dakota  but  written  from  Boston,  where  he  is  spending  the 
winter  and  one  from  Canton,  China  where  Ah  Fong  came  from. 
That  will  do  fairly  well  for  the  old  grandfather,  but  when  the 
grandson  becomes  a  book-writer  of  forty  years  to  come,  he 
must  on  some  one  morning  get  letters  from  several  continents 
telling  him  wliat  great  books  he  has  written, 

"Take  care  of  your  health  and  run,  jump,  wrestle,  play  ball, 
turn  somersaults,  harden  your  muscles  be  too  brave  to  be 
afraid,  too  truthful  to  hide  anything  and  above  all  fear  God. 
"Very  lovingly, 

"William  E.  Hatcher." 

To  his  wife  he  writes  on  March  18th,  from  Charlottesville; 

"...  I  spend  my  momii^  in  writing,  go  out  to  dinner, 
hold  the  afternoon  service,  snatch  a  short  nap  before  supper, 
hold  the  mght  meeting,  talk  some  after  I  get  home,  then  write 
some  before  I  go  to  bed  and  often  write  before  breaJdast.  .  . 
This  is  Saturday  morning  and  my  burdens  are  exceptionably 
heavy  today,  so  I  bid  you  good  bye  with  all  best  wishes  and 
hope  to  see  you  and  the  little  Baltimore  tribe  before  another 
full  moon." 

A  pastor  in  one  of  the  lower  counties  of  the  state  writes  him: 

"As  the  days  and  years  come  and  go  I  ceaee  not  to  thank 
God  for  your  life;  for  its  wide  and  varied  inBuence  for  good  and 
for  the  help  it  has  been  to  poor  me.    I  cannot  express  to  you 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


64«  SOUTH  BOSTON 

how  much  I  do  appreciate  your  friendship  and  kindly  (eeUng 
for  me  through  these  many  years.  .  .  I  can't  see  how  a  man 
with  the  years  of  hard  work  behind  him  that  you  have,  can  be 
BO  elastic  of  step,  so  vigorous  in  mind,  so  bright  and  cbeerii^ 
in  spirit  as  you  are.  But,  thank  God,  time  is  dealing  with  you 
gemtly.  Vli^inia  Baptists  need  your  ripe  experience  and  wise 
couns^  for  many  years  to  come  yet." 

'From  Soutii  Bostoa,  Va.,  where  he  is  boldoig  meetings  he 
writes: 

"I  have  four  services  tomorrow  three  sermons  and  the  Sunday 
SohooL  .  .  I  have  nothing  to  fear  in  South  Boston  eze^ 
my  own  folly  and  the  hospitality  of  ihe  people."  He  seems  as 
determined  as  ever  that  his  final  sununons,  when  it  comes,  shall 
catch  him  in  the  harvest  field  with  Edckle  in  hand. 

"I  am  rather  bewildered  by  my  Southern  invitations  to 
hold  meetings,  but  as  yet  I  havn't  decided  to  accept  any  of  them. 
My  dedication  engagements  are  multiplying  and  I  am  almost 
tempted  to  do  nothing  else  during  the  Sunmier  months.  I  feel 
that  I  ought  to  finish  my  next  book  during  the  Summer  and 
get  well  under  way  my  two  others  which  perhaps  wUi  never  be 
muBbed." 

At  South  Boston  we  find  the  phycddan  seeking  to  patch  him 
up  as  he  is  busy  in  the  meetii^.   He  writes: 

"I  am  suffering  with  one  of  the  most  unmannered  and  ag- 
gravating colds  that  I  have  had  for  years.  It  has  nearly  blocked 
up  my  throat,  but  the  meeting  rolls  on  gloriously  indeed.  .  . 
With  the  loss  of  one  afternoon  sennon  I  have  stuck  to  my  poet. 
I  am  to  see  the  Doctor  twice  today,  hold  services,  answer  a 
lot  of  letters  and  woik  on  my  Home  Board  manuscript  which 
rides  me  like  a  n%ht  mare.  ...  I  am  in  mortal  dread 
of  indulging  my  appetite  at  the  eipense  of  my  health." 

"Fork  Union,  April  3rd,  19U. 
"Deab  Jbnnib, — I  got  home  today  about  as  much  frazzled  as 
ever  in  my  busy  beat  along  the  way.    I  had  five  services  yes- 
terday at  South  Boston,  took  train  at  2:^  A.  M.  slept  half 
hour  on  ihe  road,  reached  Bichmond  at  6:50  this  monung, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


POCOMOKE  647 

had  breakfast  at  Murphy's  with  Boatwright,  had  talks  with 
two  other  men,  caught  10  A,  M.  train,  came  from  Bremo  with 
a  lame  horse  in  the  raxn  and  am  now  workii^  out  a  grievous 
tangle  in  my  April  engagements. 

".  ,  .  ,  Meanwhile  I  hope  to  get  the  bothers  of  Faculty 
for  Academy  in  some  shape.    .    . 

"P.  S. — Thanks  (socks  full  of  them)  for  the  bundle  of  nice 
things." 

His  mention  of  breakfast  at  Murphy's  reminds  us  of  his 
fondness  for  taking  his  meals  at  that  hotel.  One  morning  on  tiie 
street  car  a  gentleman  asked  him  where  he  was  going  so  early. 

"To  Murphy's  for  breakfast"  he  replied. 

"I  go  to 's  restaurant.    You  ought  to  go  there." 

"If  a  man  is'nt  hungry,  that  restaurant  is  a  very  good  place 
to  go  to,"  said  Dr.  Hatcher. 

He  viated  us  in  Baltimore  where  he  baptized  hia  grandson 
William  E.  Hatcher,  Jr.  at  the  Eutaw  Place  Baptist  Church. 
Fnnu  Baltimore  he  went  to  a  little  town  in  a  comer  of  the 
Eastern  Shore  of  Maryland  and  as  he  stepped  aboard  the  train 
and  bade  me  good  bye,  he  s^d,  "Well,  I  am  going  over  to 
Focomoke;  I  thought  I  might  be  of  some  cheer  and  help  to  dear 
old  John"  (Rev.  John  W.  Hundley).  His  manner  of  saying 
it  unconsciously  revealed  to  me  in  a  flash  the  kindly  motive 
that  was  sending  him  on  that  arduous,  tedious  trip.  Whatever 
thoughta  I  may  have  had  up  to  that  time  as  to  his  Focomoke 
meetings,  I  came  away  from  the  depot  saying  to  myself,  "That's 
why  be  is  pickii^  his  way  over  to  that  distant  town.  He  thinks 
that  be  may  be  able  to  put  some  sunlight  into  the  life  of  bis  old 
ministerial  friend."  After  the  Focomoke  visit  Mr.  Hundley 
'  writes  to  him: 

".  .  .  Your  stay  in  my  home  has  been  to  me  (and  all  of 
us)  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most  blessed  experiences  of  my 
whole  life.  .  .  I  may  never  again  enjoy  a  repetition  of  this 
experience  but  the  memory  of  it  will  last  until  we  meet  agfua 
in  our  father's  house  on  high." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


648  HELPFULNESS 

Regarding  Dr.  Hatcher's  pasEoon  for  cheering  and  helping 
his  brethren  Dr.  C.  E.  Dodd  writes: 

"There  was  something  almost  riotous  in  his  enthusiasm 
for  his  kind.  It  carried  him  into  all  sorts  of  nerve  wrecking 
efforts  te  please  aud  serve;  it  was  characterized  by  such  pfuna 
to  help  and  such  exercises  of  kindness  as  marked  the  Good 
Samaritan.  Indeed,  he  epitomized  our  Lord's  portrait  of  the 
Christian  neighbor." 

Dr.  J.  M.  Frost  tells  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  kindly  helpfulnefls 
a  few  years  before  this: 

"We  met  one  evening  by  agreement  as  our  paths  had  to 
cross  by  chance  at  Culpeper.  He  had  been  all  day  in  an  As- 
sociation and  yet  he  spent  nearly  all  night  with  me  at  the  hotel 
going  through  the  manuscript  of  'The  Moral  Dignity  of  Baptism' 
and  then  with  the  eariy  morning  each  went  hia  way  to  his  daly 
task.  How  patient  he  was,  how  untiring,  how  faithful,  how 
helpful  in  every  way.  That  was  not  the  first  time  nor  the  last. 
His  services  were  ever  at  my  call  and  fellowship  with  him  was 
an  unbroken  joy.    He  was  all  this  to  hundreds  and  thousands." 

Before  leaving  Pocomoke  in  April  he  had  written  the  fol- 
lowing letter  to  Dr.  M.  L.  Wood: 

"My  eveb-beloved, — I  have  preached  pracUcally  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  (140)  times  since  the  opening  of  the  year. 
As  for  the  qu^ity  of  the  performance  I  wish  to  remain  dis- 
tinctly dumb,  but  so  far  as  the  amount  of  the  work  is  con- 
cerned I  am  wilUng  to  stand  up  and  be  examined — very  likely 
I  would  be  in  danger  of  being  condemned  even  upon  the  amount 
of  such  preaching  as  I  have  done  and  that  too  entirely  apart 
from  the  quality  of  it.    I  have  stood  it  wonderfully.     .     .     . 

"My  cares  at  Fork  Union  multiply  and  they  load  me  down. 

"Give  my  love  to  all  the  children  and  embrace  Matthew 
Leland  (M.  L.  W'b  boy]  and  tell  him  I  think  he  is  one  of  the 
best  friends  I  have  on  earth. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  page  Mr.  Hundley  adds  this  footnote, 

"I  have  the  dear  of  a  man  with  me  and  you  know  what  a 
treat  that  is." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  SOUTHERN  BAPTIST  CONVENTION  649 

Soon  after  he  left  Pocomoke  Mr.  Hundley  writes  him: 

"Have  you  fully  decided  to  go  to  the  Southern  Baptist  Con- 
vention. I  think  you  ought  to  go  and  let  them  put  the  crown 
upon  your  head  aa  president  of  the  great  Convention,  an  honor 
you  richly  deserve  and  one  that  Southern  Baptists  wil^  gladly 
confer  if  you  wiU  give  them  the  opportunity." 

Many  of  the  leadii^  members  of  the  Ccmvention  had  ex- 
pressed their  desire  that  he  should  be  made  president  of  the 
Southern  Baptist  Convention  at  its  next  meeting  in  Florida, 
but  his  physical  ailments  and  e^Kcially  the  "Academy  com- 
plications" blocked  his  way  and  prevented  his  going  to  the 
Conventicm.    He  writes  on  May  11th: 

"I  am  really  on  the  verge  of  not  going  to  the  Convention 
in  Florida.  My  eyes  and  knees  are  troublii^  me.  What  is 
even  worse  is  that  we  have  the  gravest  sort  of  complications 
in  the  Academy, — the  very  vtorst  ever." 

"God  bless  you  noble  Soldier  of  Jesus  Christ"  writes  Rev. 
J.  J.  Wicker,  "and  may  thrae  evening  years  paea  very  slowly. 
"Kie  world  has  been  greatly  enriched  by  your  illustrious  life 
and  I  count  it  a  real  privilege  to  tell  you  that  for  more  than  a 
score  of  years  your  personality  and  your  pen  have  helped  me  to 
be  a  better  minister  of  Jesus  Christ." 

Meredith  College  at  Raleigh,  N.  C.  secured  him  for  the 
Baccalaureate  sermon  and  be  thus  writes  me  concerning  his 
visit: 

"I  had  an  epoch  of  glory  in  my  Raleigh  trip.  They  said  the 
old  gentleman  knock^  things — but  they  were  simply  trying 
to  play  on  the  creduhty  of  your  very  ancient  and  unworthy 
parent. 

"I  am  unwell  in  several  suburban  sections  of  any  corpor- 
oaily.    .    .    ." 

The  president  of  the  above-mentioned  Collie,  Dr.  R.  T. 
Vann,  wrote  him  on  his  return  from  Raleigh  the  following: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


650  NANCY  ALMOND  WITT 

"Mt  Dbib  old  Soldier, — I  ought  to  say,  old  Commander, 
I  know;  but  you  have  such  a  knack  of  fillii^  the  chaps  with  a 
thrill  of  comntdeship  that  they  forget. 

"I  have  no  business  in  writing  this  except  to  tell  you  how 
heartily  we  enjoyed  you.  AccorcUng  to  the  Almanac  and  the 
family  record  you  are  not  so  young  as  you  once  were.  But 
neither  of  these  seems  to  cut  any  ice  with  you.  I  never  heard  you 
do  better.  Hang  the  Almanac  and  the  family  records.  If 
you  perast  in  behaving  as  you  have  been  doii^  for  the  last 
fifty  of  sixty  years  you  may  look  foi  another  summons  before 
loDg  to  appear  here  and  stand  trial  agun.  God's  best  blessings 
on  you  and  may  it  please  him  to  keep  you  out  oflieaven  for 
twenty-five  years  more," 

A  letter  reached  him  announcing  the  birth  of  little  Miss 
Nancy  Almond  Witt  whose  happy  parents  he  had  united  in 
marriage  a  few  years  before.  He  dropped  hia  tasks  and  senda 
tm  June  10th  the  following  letter  to  the  little  "new  arriviU". 

"My  D&ar  Codsin  Nanct, — I  am  happy,  indeed,  to  learn 
of  your  safe  arrival  on  this  terrestrial  globe  on  June  7th,  1911. 
There  was  &  distinct  need  for  you,  and  I  am  sure  that  you 
will  prove  yourself  worthy  of  your  calUng.  You  are  expected 
to  keep  your  father  and  mother  under  good  control  and  on  good 
terms  with  each  other.  You  are  also  expected  to  make  your- 
self active  in  keeping  them  awake  at  night  and  to  demand  their 
attention  always  when  it  suits  them  least  to  ^ve  it.  Remember 
that  one  of  your  first  duties  is  to  have  colic  and  to  advertise 
your  arrival  amoi^  the  neighbors  by  the  exercise  of  your  voctd 
organs.  You  will  hear  lots  of  nonsense  from  your  kindred  and 
neighbors,  some  vowing  that  you  are  the  exact  image  of  your 
father,  others  mendaciously  vowing  that  you  are  the  exact 
picture  of  your  mother,  all  of  them  declaring  that  you  are 
beautiful,  and  a  few  of  the  wisest  people  in  the  community 
will  pronounce  you  "the  cutest  thing"  they  have  ever  seen. 
"1  hope  to  vifflt  you  before  very  long,  and  I  very  cordially 
invite  you  to  come  down  to  see  me.  I  am  old  enough  now  to  be 
"in  my  second  childhood,  and  so  you  and  I  can  be  chums,  Aak 
your  father  and  mother  to  put  this  letter  away  and  read  it  to 
you  on  the  day  that  you  are  seven  years  old,  and  after  you 
have  heard  it  read  I  hope  that  you  will  give  yourself  fully 
unto  God,  your  Maker  and  your  Redeemer.    This  is  writt^ 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  BAPTIST  WORLD  ALLIANCE     651 

by  the  man  who  united  in  marriage  your  father  and  mother, 
who  loved  your  grandmother  a*  if  she  were  his  own  daughter, 
who  knew  your  great-grandmother,  and  also  your  great-  great- 
grandmother,  and  who  hopes  that  you  will  be  the  greatest 
of  all  the  great  ones  in  the  honorable  house  to  which  you  belong." 

He  attended  in  the  month  of  June  the  meeting  in  Philadelphia 
of  the  Baptist  World  Alliance.  From  all  parts  of  the  earth 
came  the  Baptist  representatives  to  Philadelphia.  He  reveled 
in  the  meetii^,  and  in  the  fellowships  with  the  brethren.  He 
waa  given  a  seat  at  the  front  above  the  pulpit  platform  where 
he  could  eaoly  see  and  hear  and  it  was  to  him  a  spiritual  feast. 
He  had  been  asked  to  speak  for  the  South  at  the  Roll  Call  of  the 
Nations.  It  was  a  memorable  scene.  He  spoke  bis  brief 
message  and  then  called  upon  the  Southern  delegates  (and  they 
were  a  small  army)  to  stand  and  dng.  He  struck  up  bis  favor- 
ite hymn,  "We'll  work  tiU  Jesus  comes"  and  in  mighty  volume 
it  rolled  from  their  lips.  Probably  the  crowning  session  of  the 
Convention  was  on  the  morning  when  the  Russian  Baptist 
preachers,  who  bore  upon  their  bodies  the  scars  of  thdr  perse- 
cutions, were  introduced  to  the  vast  audience,  after  which  an 
^)pea]  was  made  to  the  audience  for  funds  to  establish  in 
Europe  a  Theological  Seminary  for  the  Rus^an  Baptists.  Dr. 
F.  B.  Meyer,  of  London,  who  presded  over  this  part  of  the 
service,  after  presenting  the  matter  to  the  audience,  said, 
"Where  is  Dr.  Hatcher?  I  want  him  to  come  and  take  this 
collection." 

He  stepped  upon  the  platform  and  began  with  the  words, 
"Surely  if  heaven  ever  mterposed  to  prepare  an  occasion  for  a 
collection  we  have  witnessed  such  preparation  here  this  morn- 
ing." He  spoke  a  few  further  words  and  then  made  the  call 
for  subscriptions  and  they  began  to  oome;  they  came  in  such 
rapid  and  multitudinous  fasliion  that  it  kept  not  only  Dr. 
Hatcher  busy  receiving  them  but  also  Dr.  Meyer  and  Ex- 
Govemor  E.  W.  Stephens  who  was  pressed  into  service. 

When  he  was  not  in  the  meeting  he  waa  busy  greeting  friends 
from  far  and  near. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


652  THE  COSSACK 

"What  I  heard  and  saw  at  the  Alliance"  he  writes  in  the 
Standard,  "put  new  vigor  and  hopefulness  into  my  soul.  I  not 
only  believe  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Baptists,  but  I  believe  in  the 
future  of  the  Baptists  more  than  I  ever  did. 

"When  the  roll  call  of  the  nations  came  at  the  Alliance 
and  I  saw  representativea  from  over  sixty  different  kingdoms 
and  countries,  saw  how  they  felt  and  saw  exactly  how  I  felt 
and  believed  as  they  did  I  reaHzed  that  the  Baptists  were  out 
on  the  highway  of  life  and  were  called  to  a  world  wide  work." 

He  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  sight  of  one  of  the  old 
Kus^an  Baptist  heroes,  Rev.  Fedot  Petrovidtch  Kostromin, 
a  minister  who  had  suffered  fearful  persecutions  and  who  was 
one  of  those  who  spoke  before  the  Alliance.  He  j)enned  a 
rich  tribute  to  the  old  man  which  was  published  in  "Modem 
Baptist  Heroes  and  Martyrs,"  edited  by  Dr.  J.  N.  Preatridge, 
1911,  He  describes  the  old  hero's  appearance  as  he  came  for^ 
ward  and  addressed  the  Alliance. 

A  few  paragraphs  of  the  tribute  are  quoted  here: 

"My  first  sight  of  him  was  a  revelation;  his  serious  face  Was 
his  biography  and  his  voice  spoke  nothing  that  I  understood 
and  yet  in  some  way  they  told  me  of  sorrows  which  could 
never  be  fully  told.  He  had  the  look  of  a  martyr,  who  as 
yet  had  no  sen.se  of  being  one.  As  a  fact  our  Russian  brother 
broke  in  upon  us  in  no  conspicuous  way;  indeed,  he  limped 
in,  as  one  who  had  almost  forgotten  Mmself.  Already  the 
Rus^an  exhibit,  if  we  may  speak  of  it  as  such,  under  the 
high-strung  and  magnetic  Shakespeare,  had  already  filled  us 
with  an  overflowing  wonder.  For  my  part  I  thought  that 
the  strEun  was  about  over  and  was  preparing  to  take  my 
breath  and  cool  down.  It  did  not  stir  me  when  a  snowy- 
■  haired  patriot  with  noiseless  feet  strode  down  from  the  gallery 
to  the  platform,  nor  can  it  be  said  that  this  old  gentleman  was 
presented  with  any  special  intent  to  create  a  sensation.  For 
my  own  part  I  am  a  Uttle  lost  t«  know  how  it  all  happened. 
Fact  after  fact  dropped  out  concerning  the  man  and  each  fact 
was  like  a  pearl  and  all  the  facts  together  made  a  wondrous 
string  of  pearls  and  before  we  knew  it  we  were  transfixed 
with  the  conviction  that  there  was  before  us  one  of  God's 
great  men. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  COSSACK  6S3 

To  begin  with  it  fell  out  that  this  old  gentlenum,  so  quiet 
and  unassuming,  was  &  Russian  Cossack  and  that,  of  course, 
marked  bim  as  tough  of  texture,  bom  to  fight  and  trained  bo 
die  rather  than  run  away. 

These  attributes  were  chiseled  into  the  old  face  and  the  old 
face  was  so  fine  and  even  lovely  that  I  right  there  recast  several 
of  my  old  notions  of  the  Cossacks  and  almost  felt  willing  to  be 
one  if  I  could  only  be  of  the  Kostromin  type. 

It  added  much  to  the  charm  of  the  moment  when  the  fact 
came  out  ^at  this  gnarled  old  RuB»an  had  once  been  a  fanatical 
adherent  of  the  Greek  Church  and  that,  too,  of  the  most 
destructive  and  intolerant  sort.  In  those  days  he  had  a  religion 
winch  dehghted  to  extinguish  the  other  man  who  thought 
not  as  he  did.  He  foimd  in  the  Baptists  of  his  country  the 
very  objects  which  his  cruelty  could  find  the  fiercest  joy  in 
crushing  and  destroying.  He  looked  like  a  lion  that  was 
once  wild  and  eager  for  blood,  but  had  been  tamed  for  domestic 
service,  but  you  could  recognize  his  type  at  once,  his  zeal 
was  that  of  the  bigot  and  he  would  have  hailed  Saul  of  Tarsus 
as  a  comrade  in  playii^  havoc  with  the  friends  of  the  Nazarene. 
It  was  hard  to  tell  it  on  Kostromin,  but  the  fact  came  out  that 
he  was  once  a  desparate  foe  of  his  Russian  brethren.  He 
had  that  blind  and  vindictive  sincerity  which  caused  him  to 
feel  that  the  way  to  please  God  was  to  extinguish  those  who 
did  not  believe  as  he  did.  I  took  a  cold  look  at  the  old  man 
and  felt  a  momentary  resentment. 

But  very  soon  I  came  to  myself.  I  recalled  that  history 
brings  to  us  ample  proof  that  the  Lord  takes  an  economic 
interest  in  men  who  are  notably  effective  in  trying  to  overturn 
the  truth.  He  sees  in  them  a  nerve  and  a  vigor  which,  if 
seasoned  with  his  own  grace,  would  do  much  to  help  His 
own  Kingdom.  It  is  no  rare  thii^  for  the  Spirit  of  God  to 
invade  the  dom^  of  Satan  and  choose  some  of  his  stalwart 
leaders  and  bring  them  over  for  service  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Light.  That  was  the  way  that  Paul  was  brought  in  and  we 
found  out  that  same  Thursday  that  Kostromin  was  also 
brought  in  that  way." 

But  the  Alliance  is  over  and  he  sets  forth  again  upon  bis 
rounds.    He  writes  on  July  6th: 

"I  slipped  away  and  spent  the  fourth  of  July  at  the  Trustee 
meeting  at  Salem.    That  trip  chopped  me  up  conaderably, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


664  F.  L.  HAEDY 

requirii^  me  to  get  up  two  mominga  about  5 :30  to  catch  the 
train  and  poured  heat  into  me  from  alt  points  of  the  compass. 
"Beginning  with  the  third  Sunday  I  have  dedications  straight 
along  for  four  Sundays,  with  several  others  trying  to  fix  thdr 
days.    .    .    ." 

Jhifl  was  his  very  life, — ever  traveling  and  preaching  and 
working,  and  all  that  he  asked  was  that  he  might  be  permitted 
to  ke^  up  this  busy  programme  until  the  moment  of  his 
final  going.    Rev.  F.  L.  Hardy  of  Indiana  wiites  him  in  July: 

"I  want  to  tell  you  how  you  influenced  me  to  enter  the 
ministry.  Some  16  years  ago  while  living  in  Salem,  Va.,  I 
entered  a  contest  for  a  medal  given  by  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  The 
contest  was  held  in  the  Salem  ^esbyterian  church.  .  .  You 
came  with  Dr.  Taylor  [Baptist  pastor]  to  hear  the  contest. 
The  prize  was  given  to  me,  being  delivered  by  one  of  the  Salem 
lawyers.  At  the  close  you  came  to  the  front  and  Dr.  Taylor 
introduced  you  to  each  one  of  the  six  boys.  You  placed  your 
arm  around  me  and  drawing  me  to  your  side  said,  'Frank  that 
was  great;  now  the  next  step  ia  Kichmond  College  and  then  the 
ministry.'  I  made  no  reply  but  your  word  had  hit  the  mark. 
You  were  the  first  preacher  to  encourt^e  me  to  enter  the  great 
work  that  I  am  now  ei^aged  in.  You  will  be  glad  to  know 
that  I  am  pastor  of  a  church  with  477  members  in  a  little  city 
of  10,000.  We  have  been  here  for  nineteen  months  in  which 
time  we  have  received  104  into  the  church  and  have  raised 
over  tllOO  for  missions.  During  this  time  I  have  taken  my 
degree  from  the  Southern  Baptist  Theological  Seminary.     . 

.     ,     I  amply  state  the  above  to  let  you  know  that  God  is 
using  the  boy  you  started  in  the  work.     On  August  27th  atul 
Sept.  3rd  I  am  to  supply  your  old  church  Grace  Street.     .     . 
"Your  Son  in  the  ministry, 

"F.  L.  Hardy." 

I  wrote  him  r^arding  my  thoughts  of  building  me  a  home 
and  he  wrote  me  in  reply; 

".  .  .  When  I  undertook  my  first  building  enterprise — 
which  was  608  West  Grace — I  banished  my  family  for  six 
months  and  saved  $600  by  it.    .    .    . 

"Your  letter  puts  me  to  thinking,      ...    I  am  simous 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


A  DANGEEOUS  SYMPTOM  655 

to  see  the  matter  from  the  be^miing  to  the  finish.  .  .  Our 
last  talk  indicated  on  your  part  what  seemed  to  me  at  least 
quite  a  stalwart  purpose  not  to  stay  much  longer  in  Baltimore, 
if  you  are  to  make  a  chaise  you  would  find  it  very  embar- 
rassing  to  hold  your  property  or  to  carry  your  debt  during  the 
interim  and  the  expenses  of  the  change. 
"Think  this  over.    .    .    ." 

He  speaks  in  his  next  letter  of  his  fatteziing, —  a  dangerous 
symptom  it  was. 

"My  Deab  Anna, — ^Your  surprirangly  sweet  letter  came 
yesterday.  You  have  been  all  that  a  daughter  could  be  to 
me  since  you  entered  my  family  and  my  only  regret  that  I 
have  ever  had  in  connection  with  you  has  been  thiat  I  could 
add  so  little  to  your  happiness.    .    .     . 

"Tell  Eldridge  that  I  had  a  great  day  at  old  Chesterfield 
Church  and  told  them  about  my  grandfather  Jeremiah,  and 
also  about  my  son,  with  myself  slipped  in  between  them,  and 
all  of  us  takmg  part  in  the  Baptist  work  in  Chesterfield.  I 
drew  it  mild  however  so  far  as  the  part  the  Hatchers  had  taken. 
I  was  making  a  speech  on  the  Baptist  history  of  Chesterfield. 

"I  have  fattened  up  until  I  am  almost  a  reproach  to  the 
family,  but  my  health  seems  quite  good." 

His  seventy-seventh  birUiday  draws  near  as  he  writes  to 
Preradent  Biyan,  of  Colgate  University: 

"I  will  not  torment  you  with  sentimental  letters  today. 
All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  greet  Mrs.  Bryan  and  tell  her  that  she 
isnotonly  worthyof  hernusband,  but  worthy  of  a  better  one 
and,  as  for  the  three  domestic  jewels,  my  heful;  warms  towards 
every  one  of  them  as  I  think  of  them.  Today  I  can  report 
myself  in  excellent  health  and  on  next  Tuesday,  if  I  am  alive, 
there  will  be  a  fwnt  pretense  in  my  home  beneath  the  big  oaks 
of  Careby  Hall  of  celebrating  my  seventy-seventh  anniversary. 
It  is  not  certain  however  that  I  will  attend,  I  never  enjoy 
my  absf^ce  more  from  home  than  when  they  get  up  a  little 
sentimental  confudon  at  my  expense  and  call  it  a  celebra- 
tion. 

"A  thousand  good  wishes  attend  you  on  your  career  of 
service  and  honor." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


656  LETTER  FROM  DR.  ARTHUR  JONES 

Like  birds  Socking  to  his  room  with  their  sweet  notes  of  cheer 
came  the  letters  from  his  friends  everywhere.  Dr.  Jones  of 
Colgate,  after  telling  of  a  gathering  of  friends  (including 
Presdent  Bryan)  at  his  house  and  his  reading  to  than  a  letter 
received  from  Dr.  Hatcher  thus  continues: 

"Sfud  Bryan  'I  would  be  glad  to  go  out  and  ta^te  a  good 
thrashing  if  I  could  go  out  and  come  back  and  find  Dr.  Hatcher 
here.'  Then  it  came  out  that  yesterday  you  passed  your  77th 
milestone  and  in  behalf  of  the  assembled  company  I  promised 
to  write  you,  offering  you  our  hearty  felicitations  and  our  de- 
voted love.  We  all  confessed  to  the  sune  thing, — our  un- 
bounded admiration  for  you  as  a  preacher,  our  profound  rever- 
ence for  you  as  a  christian  and  our  ardent  affection  for  you  as  a 
friend.  If  we  had  been  proposing  toasts  this  would  have  been 
the  sentiment  to  which  we  would  have  druned  our  glaaees, — 
many  years  to  the  incomparable  Hatcher:  and  may  we  all 
have  the  joy  of  seeing  him  agun  in  the  flesh  and  in  Hamilton.' 
(Tremendous  enthusiasm). 

"I  wish  to  recur  to  that  part  of  your  letter  of  March  last 
in  which  you  say  you  have  in  mind  the  writing  of  a  book  on  the 
'Philosophy  of  Illustration'.  .  .  How  ^ad  I  would  be  to 
use  it  in  my  classes  in  Homiletics." 

He  was  fond  of  dictating  to  his  stenographer  out  in  the  yard 
at  Careby  Hall  during  these  Summer  days.  He  was  writing 
for  the  Herald  a  loving  tribute  to  Dr.  James  B.  Taylor  who 
had  recently  died  and  he  closed  it  with  the  words: 

"Beneath  these  trees  I  ^t  this  momii^  and  my  cherished 
friend  is  still  with  me.  He  is  not  in  Hollywood  [CesneteryJ^ 
his  soul  has  risen  and  already  he  is  seeing  the  face  of  him  in 
whom  for  more  than  half  a  century  his  soul  found  its  highest 
joy.  .  .  Those  that  loved  him.  .  .  have  enough  of 
good  in  him  to  remember  to  gladden  their  soul  until  they  go  to 
meet  him  agun." 

Under  those  trees  he  would  at  and  not  only  do  his  dictating 
but  also  read  his  mdl,  receive  his  viators,  play  games  with  his 
grandchildren  and  chat  with  the  family.  One  of  his  letters  waa 
from  Rev.  F.  W.  Tomlinson  who  writes: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  DISTRICT  ASSOCIATIONS       657 

"John  Jasper  has  helped  me  speak  the  truth  at  scores  of 
funeral  services.  ...  I  often  read  a  chapter  in  it  [Along 
the  Trail  of  the  Friendly  Yeari]  before  working  on  a  sermon. 

He  attended  one  of  the  District  Associations  and  a  young 
miiuBter  who  was  his  room  mate  says: 

"Dr.  Hatcher  did  not  sleep  but  a  few  hours  during  the  night 
and  he  spent  most  of  the  night  reading  by  the  lamp  li^t. 
He  said  be  had  to  read  himself  to  sleep  in  that  way.  I  thought 
nert  day  he  would  be  languid  and  weak  after  such  little  sleep 
but  to  my  amazement  he  was  one  of  the  most  active  men  among 
us  and  made  several  bright  speeches  and  seemed  full  of  life. 
One  morning  as  he  lay  in  bed  another  minister  came  in  and 
began  to  talk  about  a  certain  pastor  who  in  recent  years  had 
turned  an  unfriendly  Edde  towards  Dr.  Hatcher — though  that 
was  not  mentioned  in  our  conversation  that  momii^.  Dr. 
Hatcher  said  somewhat  dryly  as  he  lay  in  bed,  "The  trouble 
with is  that  he  tries  to  be  a  Higher  Critic  and  can't.'  " 

In  one  of  the  District  Associations  was  a  young  minister 
whom  he  greatly  loved,  and  he  wrote  to  two  or  three  members 
of  the  Association  suggesting  that  they  elect  this  young  preacher 
to  the  moderatorship  of  the  body  at  its  meeting  m  At^ust.  The 
suggestion  was  cordial^  accepted  and  at  the  opening  of  the 
Association  his  3n>UDg  friend  was  placed  in  nomination.  The 
nomination  startJed  the  young  minister;  he  shrank  from  the 
honor  and  declined  to  accept  the  portion  saying  that  the 
moderatotsbip  required  business  qualities  and  therefore  a  lay- 
man rather  than  a  preacher  should  be  elected  to  the  position. 
Upon  hearing  of  it  Dr.  Hatcher  wrote  him: 

"If  I  had  been  in  reach  of  you  with  a  cudgel  I  would  have 
given  you  six  strokes  across  your  brow  for  not  allowing  them 
to  elect  you  Moderator  of  the  Association.  I  had  taken  pains 
to  work  the  thing  up,  I  wanted  you  in  that  chair  and  I 
am  as  mad  as  blazes  with  you  that  you  dechned  and  I  wish 
you  would  tell  your  wife  what  I  say  about  it.  You've  got  a 
vidous  back  step  to  you  and  I  would  almost  be  willii^  to  cut 
off  one  of  your  feet  to  break  it  up. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


658         HELPING  THE  NEEDY  BOYS 

"Besides  why  should  you  go  over  and  join  the  enemy  and 
talk  about  its  being  a  'business'  as  if  preachers  did  not  have 
sense  enough  to  be  bui^ness  men.  Why  should  you  join  the  evil 
tongued  gang  who  are  always  ready  to  say  that  preachers  do 
not  know  anything  about  business.  Come  out  from  among  any 
such  ill-starred  and  nusguided  cranks  and  stand  up  for  the 
ministry. 

"But,  nevertheless,  I  love  you  and  Bagby  about  as  much  as  I 
do  the  whole  senatorial  district." 

The  following  letter  to  a  pastor  is  a  specimen  of  the  many 
efforts  that  he  was  making  to  help  needy  boys  come  to  the 
Academy: 

"My  Dear  Bbo, —  ....  Send  your  boy  along;  ask 
the  Lord  to  help  you  to  raise  the  money;  I  will  look  after  the 
fifty  dollars  promised  and  also  see  that  he  pays  only  half  tuition 
and  even  if  you  cannot  keep  him  here  all  the  time  we  can  make 
an  honest  effort  and  if  we  fail  our  failure  will  be  to  our  credit 
and  not  to  our  reproach. 

"Many  of  our  boys  work  in  order  to  make  their  way  through 
school.  It  is  a  thoroughly  respectable  thing  here  for  a  boy 
to  do  and  it  will  be  a  sort  of  test  as  to  whether  your  boy  has  the 
real  stuff  in  him  for  him  to  be  willing  to  make  some  arrangement 
of  this  sort  in  the  interest  of  his  e<lucation.  Let  me  know  how 
the  boy  feels  about  it  and  I  will  then  tell  you  what  terms  I  can 
make  with  my  neighbor." 

He  gathered  his  grandchildren  at  Careby  for  the  Summer 
and  reveled  in  their  companionship.  He  wrote  to  One  telling 
of  the  cordial  greeting  the  grandchildren  would  pve  him  upon 
his  return  with  boxes  of  nuts  and  candies  "but"  said  he  "they 
have  scattered  them  and  the  land  is  bare  of  all  delicacies  and 
of  course  my  popularity  is  sensibly  diminished.  .  .  This 
place  is  a  good  place  to  be  and  all  the  better  when  you  are 
here." 

"From  a  human  standpoint  my  success  here  is  all  due  to 
you"  writes  Rev.  J.  E,  Btuley  of  Saluda,  S.  C. 

"The  Academy  is  on  deck"  he  writes  me  on  September  21st. 
".     .     .    William  plays  croquet  about  one  half  of  his  time, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


LETTER  TO  R.  S.  BABBOTJB         659 

behaves  well,  paya  me  gaBtronomic  viaits  six  times  a  day  and 
eats  everything  I  can  give  him.    .    .    ." 
"William  wishes  to  send  a  message  but  I  refused  him  space." 

He  preached  at  his  old  Grace  Street  Churob  during  all  the 
Sundays  of  October — an  ei^terience  that  brought  him  mai^ 
rich  joys. 

"Your  father  returned  Monday,  from  Kjchmond"  writes  my 
mother,  ".  .  .  .  He  has  been  a  little  depressed  I  think 
from  losing  his  flesh  again  as  result  of  his  cold." 

"I  get  ^ck  in  turning  away  boys  who  are  cryii^  for  an  educa^ 
tion"  he  writes  "and  have  not  the  means  to  make  the  start." 

His  cares  could  not  destroy  his  cheery  mood  and  he  was  ever 
ready  for  a  joke.  He  heard  that  his  friend  Mr.  R.  S.  Bartwur's 
large  wagon  factory  had  recently  been  hit  by  two  fires  and 
he  thus  writes  him: 

"Here  I  am  without  a  stenographer  and  almost  without 
everytJui^  else  except  a  coughing  cold,  trying  to  beat  up  a  letter 
to  a  friend  who  has  been  tried  by  fire.  TTie  ways  of  Providence 
get  criss-cross  bad  enough  with  me  when  I  look  at  myself  and 
feel  that  if  I  were  to  die  I  have'nt  got  a  wagon  to  haul  what  is 
left  of  me  out  to  the  Potter's  field,  while  you  have  wagons  to 
bum.  I  may  seem  to  play  a  trick  of  splendor  by  pickii^  my 
teeth  at  the  Jefferson,  but  what  am  I  to  think  of  you  when  you 
get  up  two  fires  within  a  month. 

"But  the  Lord  bless  you  just  the  same  and  pve  you  all  the 
wagons  you  would  like  to  have  in  this  world  and  golden  chariots 
in  the  world  to  come." 

"To  be  near  you  was  for  many  years  one  of  the  ideals  of  my 
life"  writes  Dr.  W,  C.  Taylor,  "Long  before  you  knew  me  1 
was  being  drawn  towards  you.  .  .  You  have  passed  through 
many  trials, — few  indeed  there  are  that  are  possible  to  patient 
souls  with  which  you  are  not  familiar  by  a  deep  personal  ex- 
perience. But  how  graciously  you  have  passed  through  thnn 
all  and  how  victoriously  you  have  come  through  them  all 
without  even  the  smell  of  fire  upon  your  garments.  .  .  I 
want  that  sort  of  grace.     .     .    I  never  heard  you  utter  an 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


660       DE.  E.  W.  WINFEEY'S  TEIBUTE 

unkind  word  ag^nst  any  person  living  or  dead  nor  have  I 
found  the  man  who  could  charge  you  with  unkindness.  To  me 
it  IB  wonderful." 


Dr.   E.  W.  Winfrey  in    public    print    writes    concemii^ 


him: 

"He  was  no  mediocre  man.    I've  seen 
Him  pass  unflinching  and  erect  through  flames 
Which  might  have  withered  giants'  thews. 

He  bore 
Himself,  not  arrogantly,  but  serene 
Against  the  bold  assault  or  when  the  dart 
Was  hurled  by  ambushed  foe. 

His  quick  soul  knew 
The  pwn,  but  flimg  from  him  the  venom  charge 
And  closed  and  healed  the  cruel  wound. 

He  was 
A  mighty  man.    If  bravely  bearing  woes 
For  others  meant,  and  gently  soothing  hearts 
By  shame  or  sorrow  wrung,— If  guidi^  youth, 
Inspiring  faint  and  struggling  riper  years, 
Or  cheering  dim-eyed  age  with  clearer  light, — 
If  stirring  souls  to  penitence  and  f  tuth 
And  holy  zeal, — If  toiling  much  through  life — 
On  Buperstructures  vast,  or  on  half-seen 
Foimdatious  yet  more  vast  and  grand  and  fiur 
Supporting— toiling  aye  so  well  we  say, — 
A  master's  hand  is  here, — If  these  are  marks 
Of  greatness,  then  a  mighty  man  he  was." 

Another  writes: 

"Dr.  Hatcher's  power  of  rebound  was  amazii^.  He  passed 
as  all  of  us  do,  through  trying  experiences.  Yet  they  did  not 
crush  him.  Surely  Us  f^th  in  God  counted  towards  these 
victories." 

His  life  had  been  marked  by  sore  trials  and  heavy  strains. 
A  man  of  his  positive  convictions  and  one  vim  foi^t  in  so 
many  campaigns  could  not  avoid  Tnalring  enemies,  and  it 
seemed  tcjme  that  nearly  all  my  life  I  was  hearing  of  some 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  MAD  BROTHER  661 

(« 

who  were  mad  with  him,  or  pursuing  hosUIe  tactics  towards 
him.  It  is  an  interesting  study  to  try  to  determine  how 
a  man's  enemies  are  made.  He  wrote  an  article  for  the 
Seminary  Mi^azme  on  "The  Mad  Brother"  who,  he  said,  was 
often  a  missionary  to  us  in  that  he  put  us  on  our  best  behavior 
by  watching  us  closely  for  flaws.  He  said  of  himself  "My 
worst  enemies  were  those  I  bad  served."  Bitterness,  however, 
found  no  lodgment  in  his  heart. 

Not  even  a  pugilistic  letter  seemed  able  to  disturb  his  sere- 
nity. A  professor  in  one  of  the  imdenominational  schools  of 
the  state  wrote  him  a  critical  epistle  regarding  his  pomUon 
as  to  feasts,  fairs,  etc.,  in  churches  and  he  s^t  the  professor 
the  followii^;  reply: 

"I  must  thank  you  for  your  critic&I  and  disapproving  letter. 
I  love  people  who  do  not  agree  with  me.  They  are  likely  to 
benefit  me  more  than  those  who  seek  to  flatter  and  confirm 
me  in  my  opinion.  Evidently  you  and  I  do  not  see  some  things 
alike,  but  we  do  not  have  cause  to  fall  out  on  that  account.  £i 
that  time  when  we  shall  see  Him  face  to  face  I  have  a  hope  that 
we  will  not  only  be  satisfied  with  Him  but  be  satisfied  with  each 
other." 

In  November  he  showed  his  ability  to  step  into  a  public 
breach  and  meet  a  great  occasion  upon  a  few  moment's  notice. 
It  was  in  Baltimore  at  a  State  Mission  Banquet  which  the 
expected  orator  had  been  prevented  at  the  last  moment  from 
attending.  Two  or  three  hours  before  the  time  he  was  asked 
if  he  could  come  to  the  rescue.  A  great  State  Mission  campaign 
was  to  be  laimched.  He  agreed  and  with  his  white  locks  his 
bright  eye  and  ei^er  countenance,  as  he  sat  in  the  seat  of 
honor,  he  presented  an  interesting  picture. 

He  seemed  to  catoh  the  spirit  of  the  gathering  and  his 
enthusiasm  became  contagious.  The  presdent  Mr.  Hany 
Tyler,  made  a  stirring  introductory  address  and  at  its  close 
Dr.  Hatoher  struck  up  his  favorite  hymn  "We'll  work  till 
Jesus  Comes"  and  it  was  caught  up  by  those  present  and  sung 
with  thrilling  power.    I  do  not  remember  the  words  of  bii 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


662  THE  GREATER  RICHMOND  COLLEGE 

address  but  I  know  that  he  set  a  lofty  standard  for  our  for- 
ward movement,  filled  the  audience  with  high  ideals  regarding 
it  and  ins^nred  them  with  a  purpose  to  accomplish  it,  and,  at 
its  close,  pastois  and  laymen  from  the  churches  arose,  and 
pledged  the  cooperation  of  themselves  and  their  churches  for 
the  campaign. 

In  an  address  in  December  before  the  Board  of  Trustees  of 
Richmond  College  he  rendered  a  memorable  service  to  that 
institution.  The  collie  stood  at  a  crisis.  Plans  had  beoi 
drawn  for  a  vast  enlargement  of  the  institution, — at  a  cost 
as  it  was  thought  of  J100,000.  When  the  estimates  were  re- 
ceived it  was  found  that  the  cost  would  be  between  two  and 
tiiree  hundred  thousand  dollars.  The  Trustees  stood  appalled 
at  the  thought  of  sudi  a  venture.  To  launch  the  Collie 
upon  such  an  expenditure  seemed  to  some  of  the  members  a 
ruinous  undettaking  and  all  seemed  doubtful  or  uncertain. 
It  was  under  such  conditions  in  the  meeting  of  the  Board  that 
he  made  his  speech  and  those  who  heard  him  say  that  on  tliat 
day  be  touched  the  high  mark  of  his  eloquence. 

Instead  of  wag^g  his  head  and  saying  "Beware  brethren; 
let  us  move  slowly"  he  sounded  the  signal  for  the  large  and 
daring  oiterprise.  He  began  his  speech  by  reminding  them 
of  their  Baptist  forefathers  in  Viiginia, — of  what  they  bad  at- 
tempted and  suffered  in  layii^  the  foundations  on  which  they 
were  then  standing,  and  also  of  what  triumphs  th^  had  w«i. 
He  next  came  to  the  College,  its  early  history,  its  past  achieve- 
ments and  its  present  attainment;  he  paid  tribute  to  the  Baptist 
brotherhood  in  Vii^nia  and  then  he  pulled  aside  the  curtain 
and  unveiled  the  future  that  loomed  before  the  instjtutdim. 

"It  was  that  speech"  said  IJeut-Gov.  EUyson  "that  settled 
the  questicHL  as  to  whether  the  Trustees  should  attempt  the 
IttTger  movement." 

"The  Richmond  College  which  wilt  soon  rise  into  bdng" 
writes  Dr.  Dodd  "will  be  one  of  his  monuments — not  the  only 
one — but  one  of  -the  biggest  and  best.  It  will  shine  with  the 
reflected  light  of  his  incomparable  love  for  youi^  men." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


THE  FIRE  OP  YOUTH  663 

Let  those  who  have  an  eye  for  interesting  objects  turn  their 
gase  upon  that  scene  in  the  trustee  meeting  that  day.  Old 
age  always  walks  with  cautious  steps  and  assumes  the  phil- 
osopher's mien  as  it  puts  forth  its  restnuning  hand  upon  the 
shoulders  of  youth.  A  man  with  77  birthdays  to  his  credit 
has  usually  settled  into  a  state  of  conservatism  and  timidity 
and  contentment.  But  not  so  with  the  aged  trustee  in  his 
speech  that  day.  He  had  not  lacked,  in  his  long  life  of  warfare 
and  struggle,  the  experiences  that  ofttimes  make  men  sour 
and  pessimistic.  Burdens  many  had  weighted  him  down; 
struna  and  sorrows  had  racked  his  soul  and  none  could  have 
been  surprised  if  his  years  of  stress  and  conflict  had  worn  and 
depressed  his  spirit.  But  he  had  kept  bumii^;  the  fires  of 
youth  and  the  further  along  the  road  he  moved  the  brighter 
they  seemed  to  glow.  Those  who  heard  his  speech  that  day 
before   the   Trustees   said   it  was  the  speech  of  a  young 

"He  seemed"  said  Dr.  Hemdon  "to  have  drunk  from  that 
fountun  of  eternal  youth"  and  Dr.  G.  B.  Taylor  said  that  he 
was  the  beau-ideal  of  the  man  whose  natural  force  was  not 
abated.  His  little  granddaughter  asked  one  day  "why  do  peo- 
ple have  grey  hair?" 

"Because  they  get  old." 

"Well"  she  replied  "my  grandfather  has  grey  hfurs  but  he  is 
not  old." 

"I  shall  never  allow  myself  to  grow  old"  writes  Dr.  Landrum 
"so  loi^  as  I  remember  how  to  the  last  boyishness  beat  in  Dr. 
Hatcher's  blood." 

"No  young  fellow  in  the  opening  years  of  his  ministry"  says 
Dr.  Pitt  "could  have  been  more  bouyant,  more  dashing  than 
he  was  down  to  the  close  of  his  remarkable  career." 

The  old  philosopher,  Sam  Johnson,  is  reputed  to  have  said 
that  it  was  worth  500  pounds  &  year  to  be  able  to  look  upon 
the  bright  side  of  things  and  some  have  taken  these  words 
as  a  description  of  the  optimiBt.     Dr.  Hatcher  bad  learned 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


66<  OPTIMISM 

the  art  of  living  on  the  bi^t  ode, — ^not  merdy  of  things 
but  also  of  people  and  of  large  and  critical  atuations.  Yea 
the  great  future  loomed  brightly  before  him  and  filled  his  path 
Trith  light.  And  yet  all  such  definitions  of  the  optimist  seemed 
to  him  inadequate.  In  one  place,  in  writing  about  the  op- 
timist he  declares,  "Primarily  the  opUmist  is  a  man  with  a 
passion  for  the  best."  Several  times  have  these  pages  told 
of  William  E.  Hatcher's  "passion  for  the  best."  It  burned 
in  him  as  a  lad;  it  followed  him  through  his  school  and  his 
ministry.  He  had  his  own  conceptions  of  the  optimist,  and 
one  day,  in  the  public  print,  he  drew  the  picture  of  several 
of  the  falsely  called  optimists  and  then  adds: 

"But  thanks  to  heaven  a  thousand  timesl  There  are  many, 
many  real  optimists.  They  are  free  from  self-conceit,  full  of 
the  juice  and  joy  of  humanity,  animated  by  a  wholesome  and 
living  faith  in  God,  and  walking  day  by  day  in  the  heavenly 
path.  They  see  human  frailties  and  seek  by  gradoua  means 
to  help  those  that  struggle;  their  honest  eyes  see  treachery 
sometimes,  and  they  hate  it,  but  that  does  not  shake  their 
f^th  in  humanity;  they  meet  sorrows  that  are  grievous  and 
losses  most  mysterious,  but  they  do  not  lose  trust  in  God; 
they  see  the  good,  the  ever-growing  good  of  this^  world,  and 
live  in  full  assurance  of  a  life  to  come,  where  all  is  everlastin^y 


"The  fountain  of  perpetual  youth  in  his  heart  was  ever  full, 
free  and  flowing"  says  Dr.  Landrum.  "He  never  lived  in  a 
pickled  past,  but  faced  the  east  and  biuled  ihe  dawn  of  a 
flowery  future.  Optimist  he  was,  radiant  and  roy^  optimist. 
Fwlure  never  depressed  him." 

Dr.  E.  W.  TOnfrey  writes: 

"Whate'er  the  night,  he  stood  so  calm  upon 
The  mountain-top  of  optimistic  faith — 
So  oft  with  steady  hand  and  brow  aglow 
He  pointed  to  the  stars  aflirming  near 
Approach  of  longed-for  day." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


OPTIMISM  666 

It  was  undoubtedly  true  that  his  spirit  seemed  unconqueiv 
able.  There  was  a  rebound  in  him,  a  resiliency  of  soul  that 
outwitted  every  attack  of  depresfflon  or  disaster. 

"I  could  not  think  of  him"  writes  Dr.  v-y-^mas  B.  Crane  of 
Boston  "as  scowling  or  mopii^  or  fiin^i^  up  his  hands  in  the 
despair  of  defeat.  I  can  well  believe  that  on  the  'perilous  edge 
of  battle'  he  would  stand  or  advance  smiling  and  that  if  chosen 
to  lead  the  'forlone  hope'  he  would  hearten  his  men  by  his 
glorious  laughter.  His  portnut  seems  to  me  to  confirm  these 
impresdons." 

He  had  written  in  the  Herald  a  few  months  before  this  the 
following: 

"Some  of  my  critics  wantonly  charge  me  with  thinking  that 
eveiy  revival  that  I  attend  is  the  best  that  has  ever  been  held. 
I  beUeve  that  I  am  a  little  that  way.  Indeed  all  the  things  with 
which  God  has  much  to  do  seem  to  me  to  be  continually  better.'' 

In  another  place  be  wrote  concerning  his  long  pastorate  at 
the  Grace  Street  Church : 

"If  I  had  to  expWn  what  it  was  in  me  that  made  me  ac- 
ceptable to  the  church  for  so  loi^  a  time  I  would  say  that  it 
must  have  been  my  hopefulness.  God  has  enabled  me  to  live 
in  the  sunlight  of  the  future.  Discouragement  long  disf^ 
peared  from  my  vocabulary,  and  if  I  had  nothii^  else  for  my 
people  I  never  fiuled  to  ^ve  them  joy  and  comfort  of  hope." 

I  quote  agfun  Dr.  Winfrey's  words  concerning  him; 

"His  words  of  sage 
Advice  did  so  far  shape  the  onward  march 
Of  our  victorious  hosts, — his  call  to  lai^e 
And  larger  Christian  emprise  rang  so  loud 
And  clear, — we  named  him,  and  he  shall  be  named, 
A  LEADER  OF  THE  ARMIES  OF  THE    LORD." 

It  looked  as  if  he  wished  to  add  a  new  meaning  and  glory 
to  old  age.  It  was  as  if  he  would  say,  'Ah  ye  old  ones  who  would 
wear  the  badges  of  decrepitude  and  idleness;  ye  who  would 
make  old  age  a  couch  upon  which  ye  may  recline  and  wearily 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


666  OLD  AGE 

await  the  end,  I  say  let  ua  rather  make  old  age  the  climax; 
let  our  last  days  be  bo  fresh  and  lustrous  that  they  will  put 
the  crown  upon  our  life's  work."  In  his  earher  years  he  ac- 
corded high  honor  to  the  old.    He  once  wrote: 

"The  old  are  our  relics.  They  link  us  to  the  dead  genera- 
tions; like  the  crumbling  towers  of  a  ruined  city  they  linger  to 
remind  us  of  bygone  splendor.  They  are  lone  columns  from  a 
social  fabric  which,  once  grand  and  beautiful,  has  yielded  to 
the  waste  of  years.  Pre(Sou8  treasures  they  are.  Let  no  vandal 
hand  pollute  them  with  its  touch.  It  is  a  sacrilege — an  insult 
to  the  past — a  stab  at  the  heart,  of  history — an  outrage  to  our 
memories  of  our  fathers  and  mothers — to  neglect  and  slight 
the  old." 

It  was  Longfellow  who  wrote: 

"What  then? 
Shall  we  sit  down  and  idly  say 
The  night  hath  come;  it  is  no  longer  day? 
The  night  hath  not  yet  come;  we  are  not  quite 
Cut  oiT  from  labor  by  the  fsJling  light; 
Something  remains  for  us  to  do  or  dare, 
Even  the  oldest  trees  some  fruit  may  bear. 
For  age  is  opportunity  no  less 
Hian  youth  itself,  though  in  another  dress." 

His  respect  for  dd  age  was  so  great  that  instead  of  speak- 
ing lightly,  or  ^ibly  about  it  he  sought  during  his  last  years 
to  dignify  and  to  beautify  it  by  happily  ministering  to 
others.  His  letters  and  conversations  showed  that  he  felt 
that  he  was  moving  near  the  edge  and  might  at  any  moment 
be  in  the  other  world.  That  thought  put  joy  within  him  and  he 
lived  now  under  the  light  of  that  heavenly  prospect. 

In  one  of  his  sermons  he  exclumed:  "It  ia  noble  to  become  so 
absorbed  in  the  King's  business  as  to  forget  awhile  what  the 
future  holds  for  us.  But,  0,  the  future  must  be  full  of  interest 
to  the  soul  who  has  felt  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come.  There 
are  bumin^  within  us  which  drive  us  mad  with  expectation. 
We  stand  upon  the  shore  and  wonder  what  we  shall  see  whcai 
ihe  ship  comes  to  take  us  oV£r  the  sea." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XLIV 
1912 

LABORS    IH    rLORIDA.      CAMPAIGN  FOE    THE    OHANOBBUBQ  SCHOOL. 

FAREWELL  MEETING  WITH  AH  FONO.        LABORS  IN  SOUTH  CABO- 

UNA.      WORKING  WHILE  IT  IS  DAY.      HIS  FORTRAIT 

UN  VEILED. 

The  year  "1912"  opened  its  gate  to  him  and  it  looked  as  if 
during  each  month  be  sought  to  quicken  his  pace, — so  ardently 
did  be  yearn  to  be  busy  up  to  the  final  moment.  As  he  crossed 
the  threshold  of  the  new  year,  his  mind  was  alert,  Hs  eye  bright 
and  his  spirit  eager,  and  be  really  bounded  forth  to  this  tasks. 
The  winter,  in  his  last  years,  always  hit  him  hard  and  be 
determined  that  this  year  his  grapple  with  low  temperature 
should  be  transferred  to  a  more  southern  clime  and  conse- 
quently be  accepted  invitations  for  meetings  in  Florida  and 
South  Carolina. 

"Brer  Hatcher  took  his  departure  for  the  South  at  the  right 
time"  writes  his  wife.  "He  was  not  in  very  good  condition 
when  he  left.  His  physical  state  was  all  right  but  he  had  lately 
been  through  the  change  of  Officers  at  the  Academy  bearing 
the  responsibility  and  strain  of  it  all  alone.  Like  many  old 
men  his  anxieties  got  the  upperhand  and  made  him  nervoiis. 
He  felt,  as  I  did,  that  it  was  better  for  him  to  get  out  of  it  all 
for  a  while" 

To  his  wife  he  writes  on  January  9th  from  Richmond: 

"Monday C.  &  0.  Station  1  P.  M. 

"I  start  for  Florida  at  1:30  P.  M.  today.  ...  I  had 
another  fall  and  got  bruised  up,  but  I  must  keep  a  going." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


668  FLORIDA 

To  many  it  Beemed  almost  pathetic  tiiat  with  his  uncertfun 
health,  and  at  his  advanced  age,  he  should  be  putting  off  in 
mid-winter  to  Florida,  a  hmd  of  strangers.  But  go  he  would 
and  go  he  felt  he  must.  He  knew  that  his  end  could  not  be  much 
longer  delayed  and  for  that  reason  he  felt  that  he  must  be  more 
active  than  ever.  From  Sanford,  Florida  he  writes  me  on  Jan. 
11th  regarding  his  Christmas  at  Fork  Union: 

".  .  .  Christmas  brought  me  many  things  to  make  me 
glad,  but  the  utter  lack  of  grandchildren  put  a  sense  of  loss 
in  me  which  I  could  not  shsie  off.  Nor  was  I  tree  from  the 
wear  and  tear  of  local  strifes  which  seem  to  continue  to  grow 
rather  than  to  abate. 

"In  spite  of  these  things  life  was  quiet  and  rich  in  comfort 
for  me.  I  preached  in  Richmond  on  Sunday  and  left  for  this 
narrow  neck  of  land  Monday.  .  .  I  see  a  riot  of  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  success  [in  the  meetings]  but.  .  my  heart 
is  full  of  hope.     .     .    I  am  very  busy.     .     .     . — " 

I'here  was  one  thing  that  indicated  that  he  feared  possible 
collapse  on  his  Southern  trip  and  that  was  that  he  took  with 
him  a  younger,  Vir^nia  minister,  Rev.  J.  B.  Williams,  who 
helped  him  greatly,  not  only  by  his  companionship,  but  also 
by  his  leadership  of  the  muse  in  the  meetings.  I  have  had 
troubles  on  this  trip"  he  writes  Rev.  R.  H.  Winfree,  "I  had  a 
fall  and,  in  addition  to  wounding  each  of  my  knees  and  each 
of  my  elbows,  I  put  my  right  thumb  out  of  commisaon.  It 
hurts  like  Scot  and  is  of  httle  use."  He  also  tells  of  his  lo«ng 
his  valise  with  all  his  good  clothes  and  adds,  "It  annoys  but 
it  does  not  kill  and  I  am  doii^  furly  well." 

On  the  16th  he  writes  me  from  Sanford: 

"Our  meeting  promises  to  do  much  good,  though  the  wheels 
of  its  progress  are  deep  in  the  mire  of  the  world.  .  ,  Trade, 
traveling  and  frolickii^  ^ve  religion  a  hard  road  to  travel  in 
Florida." 

Regarding  his  absconding  valise  he  writes  to  One: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  LOST  VALISE  669 

".  .  .  .  I  have  some  news  to  relate.  I  put  about  one- 
half  of  those  cravats  in  my  valise  for  sporting  purposes  while 
in  the  South.  The  valise  seems  however  to  have  gotten  some 
of  the  hot  stuff  of  Christmaa  into  its  head  and  unceremoniously 
— in  fact  without  tellii^  me  good-bye — dashed  off  to  parts  un- 
known without  even  dropping  me  one  cravat  to  console  me  in  my 
desolation.  I  believe  it  is  agreed  that  I  am  the  most  picturesque 
specimen  of  old  age  that  has  hooked  Sanford  for  some  time. 
By  mistake  I  put  on  an  old  coat  in  starting  from  home  that 
had  not  been  allowed  to  go  out  of  the  gate  for  probably  a  period 
of  six  years  and  that's  the  coat  in  which  I  am  doing  my  preach- 
ing and  social  functions  etc.  My  pants  are  the  pathetic  relics 
of  a  suit  which  some  robber  hand  despoiled  the  pants  of  two 
years  ago  and  the  vest  belongs  altogether  to  a  suit  of  another 
pattern  and  figure. 

"Florida  is  very  cold  and  my  partly  colored  garb  is  of  a  sort 
that  is  thin  in  one  piece,  thick  in  another  and  medium  yet  in 
another.  As  to  the  trivial  matter  of  my  appearance  that  is  a 
changing  thing  anyhow  and  I  need  not  dwell  upon  it. 

"'Will  I  recover  my  valise?— hope  is  said  to  spring  immortal 
in  the  human  breast — it  does  not  seem  to  be  performing  that 
stunt  in  my  case  but  who  knows  what  may  happen. 

"Wednesday.  "The  blizzard  has  called  in  its  scouting  winds 
and  the  air  of  Florida  is  balm  itself.  I  am  working  very  hard^ 
I  leave  here  next  Sunday  and  will  begin  with  Warson  Dorsett 
at  JohnstoQ,  S.  C." 

Dr.  Wildman,  the  pastor  at  Sanford,  said  he  asked  Dr. 
Hatcher  one  day  what  he  ought  to  do  with  certain  members 
who  showed  no  evidences  of  piety.  "Dont  exclude  them"  he 
replied  "wut  on  them,"  and  Dr.  Wildman  said  that  the  later 
results  proved  the  wisdom  of  his  si^^estion.  Dr.  Wildman 
mentions  another  incident: 

"1  had  full  proof  of  Dr.  Hatcher's  freedom  from  the  money- 
loving  spirit.  I  had  written  him — when  asking  him  to  come 
to  Sanford — that  owing  to  financial  reverses  I  feared  our 
people  could  not  pay  him  enough  to  justify  him  in  coming  so 
far  for  a  meeting.  He  rephed,  'I  need  money  and  usually  get 
some  in  the  meetings;  but  I  want  you  to  have  no  concern  on 
that  point.' 

"The  weather  was  cold  when  he  came.     ...     On  the  last 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


670  EXPERIENCES  IN  FLORIDA 

Sunday  the  bouse  was  packed  and  the  power  of  the  Lord  was 
present  to  save.  My  plan  was  to  make  a  statement  and  to 
receive  an  offering  at  the  morning  hour.  He  refused  to  allow 
me  to  do  it.  Then  my  plan  was  to  take  the  collection  at  the 
night  service,  but  agtun  he  absolutely  forbade  any  mention 
of  money  because  the  interest  was  so  profound.  No  public 
mention  was  made  of  money,  but  before  he  left  on  Monday 
the  spontaneous  offering  of  t^e  people  realized  a  very  satis- 
factory amount. 

"His  preaching  was  with  power  and  great  acceptance  to  all 
who  came."  He  went  to  Columbia  where  he  wrote  that  he — 
"stayed  two  days,  'ate  out'  in  pompous  luxury  among  the 
great,  delivered  five  addresses,  was  pulled  out  of  bed  about 
daybreak  to  make  the  train  and  began  a  meeting  here  slated 
to  continue  at  least  until  Sunday,  February  4th  and  maybe 
longer," 

"Your  life  has  indeed  been  a  benediction  to  my  soul"  writes 
Rev.  h.  E.  Peters  of  West  Virpnia. 

"I  am  always  glad  to  hear  of  your  preaching"  he  writes  me, 
"as  that  is  the  supreme  joy  of  earth  to  me.  Preach  every  de- 
cent chance  that  may  come  along."  .  .  and  then  after 
telling  of  his  hopes  regarding  the  meetings  and  his  many  lines 
of  work  he  added  "But  work  is  life  and  I  am  still  living."  Mr. 
Williams,  his  traveling  companion,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Hatcher, 
after  telling  of  his  pleasure  in  being  with  him,  says,  "His  ex- 
periences with  his  old  clothes  and  crippled  finger  have  been  the 
occasion  of  much  amusement  for  us."  Kegardir^  his  wounded 
finger  he  said,  "It  hurts  me  all  mght  and  the  Doctor  hurts  it  all 
day." 

"When  we  would  come  home  from  the  meetings  at  ni^t" 
says  Mr.  Williams"  he  would  be  brim  full  of  pleasant  humor. 
He  stud  of  bis  stolen  valise  and  his  lost  clothes,  'I  wonder  if  I  will 
not  meet  some  of  my  suits  on  the  street  tomorrow.  I  am  expect- 
ing to  meet  one  fellow  with  my  pants  on  and  another  with  my 
vest  on  and  who  knows  but  I  may  meet  two  of  my  whole  suits 
in  town  before  I  leave.'  " 

Mr.  Williams  adds  that  the  lost  suit  case  with  its  contents 
was  valued  at  $120  but  that  Dr.  Hatcher  instead  of  allowing* 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


EXPERIENCES  IN  FLORIDA  671 

his  afflicted  filler  and  the  lost  suit  case  "to  become  a  meanB 
of  sorrow  to  him  and  others  he  rather  used  it  as  a  means  of 
entertuoment  for  us  at  Bro.  Wildman's.  Those  were  blessed 
daya.  .  .  ."  He  also  adds  that  he  and  Dr.  Hatcher  took 
a  night  train  for  Johnston,  S.  C.  "I  rather  insisted"  he  says 
"on  Dr.  Hatcher's  taking  a  sleeper  but  he  said,  'I  curtful  every 
expense  posable;  for  you  know  there  are  several  boys  looking 
to  me  for  help.'  I  said  to  him,  'Your  preaching  thirty  years 
ago  and  your  preaching  now  are  very  different'  he  said  to  me,, 
'Dont  you  know  that  the  sennons  that  I  used  then  are  gone 
from  me.'  I  told  him  that  the  last  sennons  were  plainer  and, 
according  to  my  judgment,  far  superior.  His  preaching,  on  my 
first  acquaintance  with  him  in  the  eighties  was  very  largely 
from  the  old  Testament."  One  of  the  Florida  Baptist  pastors, 
upon  being  introduced  to  him,  s^d,  "I  want  to  shake  the  hand 
of  the  preacher  who  writes  the  beat  English  of  any  man  in  the 
United  States." 

It  is  interestii^  to  note  that  although  he  had  hia  physical 
infirmities  yet,  instead  of  regarding  himself  as  an  aged  object 
to  be  pampered  and  waited  upon,  he  seemed  to  be  bu^  dropping 
hia  kindnesses  into  other  lives.  For  example  Dr.  Wildman 
thus  writes  several  months  later  of  hia  viat  with  him  at  Sanford: 

"There  is  no  joy  to  me  quite  as  deep  as  the  recollection  of 
having  him  for  two  weeks.  .  -  last  winter  in  the  home.  At 
every  association  which  we  attended  together  this  year  he 
spoke  a  good  word  for  me;  and  in  the  last  letter  he  wrote  in  the 
Herald  he  said,  'And  Wildman  pro-tem  of  Florida,  but  of 
Vii^nia  forever.' " 

Fork  Union  pulled  him  back  for  a  few  daya  of  Academy  toil 
and  then  he  hies  himself  aw^  to  South  Carolina  again, — ^thia 
lime  without  a  traveling  companion.  He  went  to  Saluda  to  cud 
Rev.  J.  E.  Bailey  in  meetings  and  Mr.  Bwley  writes,  "As  I 
bade  him  good  bye  [after  the  meetii^l  he  said,  'God  bless  ^ou; 
you  have  been  so  good  to  me.  When  I  get  to  Heaven  I'll  tell 
the  liOrd  about  you.'  " 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


672  AN  $80,000  CAMPAIGN 

At  this  point  ia  bis  BOuthem  trip  he  accomplished  a  Tvmajk- 
able  achievement  for  a  man  of  his  age  and  physical  debilities. 
A  school  in  OrangebuTg,  S.  C,  had  a  huge  debt  upon  it.  S65,000 
was  needed  and  he  was  asked  by  several  pastors  in  that  section 
to  lead  them  in  a  twelve  days  campaign  to  ruse  that  sum  and 
save  the  school.  It  seemed  preposterous  to  him  at  first  but  he 
surrendered  to  their  appeal.  "I  fear  it  is  a  fool's  errand  <hi 
which  I  am  goii^'  he  writes  "but  their  oft-coming  overcame 
me.  .  .  and  for  once  I  am  like  Paul;  I  go,  but,  unlike  him, 
I  do  not  know  that  any  "bonds"  await  me  with  which  to  pay 
the  debt.  ...  I  am  weighted  down  witJi  Forit  Unitm 
anxieties.  My  eyes  bother  me  much, — or  rather,  my  eye,  for 
really  I  have  but  one."  One  marked  weakness  he  had,  and 
that  was  in  the  direction  of  yielding  to  cries  for  his  help.  He 
kept  himself  so  absolutely  at  the  beck  and  call  of  the  needy 
ones  around  him  that  he  left  all  doors  to  his  heart  unbarred 
and  it  was  easy  for  applicants  for  his  service  to  win  lus  consent. 
It  will  be  acknowledged  however  that  in  such  weakness  lay 
his  best  strength.  During  the  last  year  or  two  of  his  fife  he 
seemed  to  say  to  all,  "Here  I  am,  Come  on;  get  out  of  me  what 
you  can.  If  there  is  any  good  service  still  left  in  me,  pull  it  out, 
and  he  seemed  literally  to  lay  himself  on  the  altar  of  the  public  . 
need.  I  was  struck  with  it  often  when  I  would  ask  him  to  write 
for  publication.  He  knew  that  he  could  hardly  hope  to  live 
to  finish  another  book  and  see  it  published  and  in  the  hands  of 
the  public,  and  therfore  that  what  work  he^did  coi  his  book  of 
Illustrations  would  probably  bear  its  fruit  after  he  was  gtme 
and  yet  he  was  always  ready  to  dictate  material  for  the  book 
when  I  would  ask  him.  I  was  eager  to  secure  as  much  as  posable 
from  him  and  while  I  did  not  seek  to  burden  him  with  it  yet 
I  was  impressed  with  his  cheerful  willingness  to  start  hia  brain 
to  work  no  matter  how  dilapidated  or  heavily  loaded  he  might 
be.  His  attitude  seemed  to  be,  "March  ahead  with  the  type 
winter;  dnun  me  of  whatever  I  have  that  you  need.  I  am  h^>py 
to  p.ve  it,"  and  he  would  start  right  in,  with  scarcely  a  momaat 
for  premeditation  and  the  typewriter's  flying  ticks  would  testify 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


AN  $80,000  CAMPAIGN  673 

to  the  rapidity  of  his  dictation.  Some  times  he  would  suddaily 
a&y,  "Well,  I  am  tired  now;  111  take  a  nap,"  and  it  was  such 
snatches  of  sleep  that  saved  him  from  many  a  collapse  and 
gave  him  fresh  supplies  of  strength  along  his  busy  way. 

But  let  us  return  to  the  Orangebui^  School  campaign.  He 
plunged  in  to  the  enterprise  of  rumng  the  $65,000  by  gathering 
the  preachers  about  him  and  mapping  out  a  schedule  of  travel 
by  which  they  would  make  a  rapid  dash  among  the  churches 
in  that  section.  At  the  first  church  visited — "Ebenezer" — 
he  put  up  two  of  the  preachers  to  make  remarks,  and  then 
he  followed  fmd  at  the  close  he  called  out  in  almost  cynical 
tones.  "I  wonder  if  there  ia  a  man  here  today  who  would  give 
anything  to  save  this  school." 

"Yes,  I  will"  said  a  man  "I  will  give  one  hundred  dollars." 

"What  is  your  name,  brother?"  he  asked  and  the  corpulent 
farmer  stud  that  his  name  was  "Smoke".  Dr.  Hatcher  added 
"Well  surely  where  there  is  such  a  big  smoke  there  must  be  fire 
near  by,"  and  so  it  was;  in  a  few  minutes  they  had  raised  nearly 
S700. 

-Thus  they  went  from  church  to  church,  sending  their  notices 
ahead  and  charjpi^  in  on  the  people,  soundit^  thtv  signal  and 
rounding  up  the  bonds  and  in  that  happy  bouyant  party  none 
were  younger  in  spirit  than  the  man  of  77  upon  whom  thay  had 
BO  suddenly  laid  the  harness.  He  sums  up  the  story  by  saying, 
"Through  flood  and  storm  and  swamps  I  made  a  campaign  for 
$66,000  and  it  resulted  in  ple<^  of  largely  over  $80,000.  It 
took  twelve  days." 

Rev.  J.  E.  Rier,  in  writing  about  it,  says: 

"This  campaign  was  perhaps  the  most  strenous  undertaking 
and  the  most  trying  experience  that  Dr.  Hatcher  had  in  his 
last  days.  The  weather  was  unusually  bleak,  and  the  roads 
were  next  to  impassable.  Still  he  murmured  not  a  whit,  but 
saw  the  bright  edde  of  it  all.  There  happened  in  the  start  an 
episode  that  led  him  to  brag  a  bit  on  having  a  talent  above  that 
<^  any  of  the  brethren, — ^the  ^ft  of  missing  the  right  way. 
We  (he  and  I)  got  lost.  He  declared  that  the  right  road  to  a 
place  was  alwf^  the  other  one,  and  not  the  one  he  pcnnted  out. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


674        HIS  PARTING  WITH  AH  FONG 

"The  echool  was  saved,  its  policy  entirely  changed,  juet  as  be 
advised,  and  its  name  also  changed — ^from  Orangeburg  Col- 
legiate Institute  to  Orangebui^  College.  Last  session  was  the 
b^  in  its  history,  and  to  Dr.  Hatcher,  more  than  to  any  other 
one  man,  belongs  the  honor," 

A  touching  inddent  occured  at  this  time.  His  Chinese  boy 
Ah  Foug  Yeuug,  whom  he  had  taken  into  his  home  and  aided  in 
his  educaticoi  at  the  Academy  and  afterwards  at  Bichmond 
College,  was  now  preparing  to  go  back  to  China.  He  had 
been  in  New  York  for  two  or  three  yeais  and  now,  before 
turning  his  back  upon  America,  he  deared  to  see  his  great 
fri«DLd  and  benefactor,  Dr.  Hatcher,  and  bid  him  farewell. 
And  so  he  came  to  Virginia  and  one  day,  in  the  end  of  Feb- 
ruary, when  the  door  bell  at  Careby  Hall  rang  and  Mre,  Hatcher 
went  to  tiie  door,  she  found  Ah  Fong.  After  aome  words  of 
greeting  he  said,  "where  is  Dr.  Hatcher?" 

"He  is  in  South  Carolina"  she  answ^^  not  realising  what 
a  blow  her  words  were  giving  him.  She  said  her  heart  went 
out  to  him  as  she  saw  the  look  of  disappointnmet  that  spread 
over  his  face.  He  had  come  through  the  rough,  wintry  weather 
from  New  yoik  to  Foik  Union  to  get  his  farewell  from  Dr. 
Hatcher  and  was  met  with  the  news  that  he  waa  in  another 
state.  The  thought  <^  goii^  back  to  China  without  aeedng  him 
cut  him  to  the  heart.  Mrs.  Hatcher  sought  to  cheer  him  and  to 
brighten  his  stay  at  Careby.  Word  waa  sent  to  Dr.  Hatcher 
about  Ah  Foil's  viat  and  in  a  few  days  tJie  good  news  came 
back  that  Dr.  Hatcher  would  come  up  from  South  Carolina 
and  would  meet  him  in  Biohmtmd. 

"Ah  Foi^  goes  to  lUchmond  tomorrow"  writes  my  mother 
on  March  let.    "Your  father  will  meet  him  there  Tuesday." 

Dr.  Hatcher  reached  Richmond  on  Tuesday  and  it  must  have 
been  a  touching  picture, — that  of  Ah  Fong  and  bis  aged  bene- 
factor having  what  both  of  them  knew  too  well  was  tiieir  last 
meeting  oa  the  earth.    Ah  Fong  thus  describes  this  farewell 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


HIS  PARTING  WITH  AH  FONG       675 

"When  I  decided  to  return  to  China  I  wrote  Mm  a  letter 
sayii^  that  I  will  pay  a  last  vidt  to  old  Virginia,  before  my 
departure.  He  was  on  a  trip  in  the  Carolina  States.  He  can' 
celled  3  engagements  in  order  to  come  back  to  Bichmond  and 
bid  me  good  bye.  He  came  to  Richmond  on  the  morning  train 
and  we  spent  a  few  hours  at  Mr.  Edioe  Snead's  home  on  Plum 
Street  Richmond.  At  noon  we  went  to  the  Business  Men's 
Club  for  our  farewell  dinner.  A  great  many  men  spoke  to  him 
about  me.  He  told  them  that  I  was  about  to  leave  for  home 
and  that  he  came  to  bid  me  good  bye.  All  of  them  said  that 
he  had  done  a  great  work  for  me.  His  face  was  all  smiles  and 
he  8£ud,  'I  have  only  done  my  duty.' " 

Dr.  R.  H.  Pitt,  who  saw  them,  wrote  in  the  Herald; 

"Dr.  Hatcher  came  from  a  distant  point  in  the  South  all  the 
way  to  Richmond  to  tell  the  youth  good-bye.    To  see  them 
together  at  the  hour  of  parting  was  touching.    We  oould  not 
suppress  the  conviction  that  they  would  not  meet  agfun  oc- 
ewth," 

"When  we  spoke  our  last  word,"  continues  Ah  Fong,  "it 
was  on  the  comer  of  9th  and  Mtun  Street.  'Well  Ah  Fong, 
I'll  have  to  tell  you  good  bye  here.  I  have  to  leave  here  soon. 
I  only  rushed  here  this  morning  in  order  to  have  a  last  look 
at  you.  1  dont  think  I'll  see  you  ag^n  in  this  world,  but  we'll 
meet  up  there.  Remember  whatever  you  do,  1  always  feel  a 
deep  interest  in  you.  Write  me  when  you  can.  Give  my  love  to 
your  father.'    "A  hearty  grip  of  our  hands  and  we  parted." 

A  few  days  later  he  writes  about  Ah  Fong  in  the  Herald: 

"I  wish  the  world  knew  this  young  Chinese  gentieman, 
this  modest  christian,  this  scholarly  young  man.  It  would 
make  them  rich  to  know  him.  He  lived  in  my  house  for  seven 
years  and  had  it  for  a  home  wi  years  more.  I  never  knew  hitn ' 
to  utter  an  untruth,  nor  to  speak  ill  of  aiwbody,  nor  to  be 
coarse  or  indiscreet  on  any  occasion,  nor  to  thrust  himself  into 
any  unseemly  prominence.  He  has  appeared  before  many 
American  audiences  and  has  always  been  heard  with  intere^ 
and  admiration.  He  had  hoped  to  finish  his  law  course  at 
Harvard  before  returning  to  China  but  so  pressing  is  the  plea  of 
his  friends  that  he  return  home  at  once  and  so  bouqdless  is  his 
enthusiasm  over  the  transfonna^on  of  hia  country  to  a  republic 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


676  AH  FONG 

that  he  eould  not  resist  the  impulse  to  go  home,  and  before 
this  paragraph  sees  the  light  of  day,  he  will  be  on  the  Pacific 
bound  for  Canton,  the  home  of  bis  youth  which  he  left  when 
a  boy  of  fifteen.  He  goes  an  ardent  christian  young  man,  not 
a  minister  of  the  gospel,  but  full  of  the  loftiest  z^  for  the  speedy 
christiamsation  of  lus  country." 

"He  was  criticized  by  some"  says  his  wife  "for  g^vii^  such 
aid  to  a  foreign  boy,  but  his  heart  knew  no  limits." 

Dr.  Hatcher  showed  a  tenderness  for  Ah  Fong  that  was 
unique.  It  had  in  it  a  gentle  respect  and  deference  that  seemed 
to  give  this  boy  from  across  the  sea  a  sacred  place  in  his  heart. 
How  often  in  the  Summers  at  Careby  Hail,  as  I  have  seen 
Ah  Fong  with  his  happy  face  and  hi  in  king  eyes  ^tting  with 
the  grandchildren  around  Dr.  Hatcher,  or  walking  with  him 
across  the  grounds,  my  thoughts  would  travel  out  into  the 
future  to  the  time  when  Dr.  Hatcher  would  be  in  his  grave 
and  Ah  Fong  would  be  over  in  China  doing  his  great  work  and 
would  be  often  thinking  of  that  country  home  in  far  away 
America  and  the  kind  man  who  did  bo  much  for  him. 

The  scenes  already  are  swiftly  changing;  in  a  few  weeks  Ah 
Fong  is  in  his  Oriental  home.  Will  Dr.  Hatcher's  hopes  re- 
gftrHing  this  fine  young  man  be  realised.  What  became  of  Ah 
Fong? 

Let  us,  for  a  moment,  run  forward  about  a  year  to  April 
29th,  1913,  when  Ah  Fong  writes  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Hatcher  from 

"My  Dear  Mrs.  Hatcher — The  government  has  again  offered 
me  a  post  as  Director  of  Foreign  Affairs  at  King  Chow,  in  the 
Island  of  Hainam.  This  is  the  third  time  which  the  govern- 
ment has  asked  me  to  become  an  official.  I  again  tried  to 
refuse  the  post,  as  I  have  a  very  good  position  here  in  busi- 
ness, but  the  government  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  urged  me 
again  and  ag^n  to  take  it  up.  I  found  that  the  govenmient 
wants  me  so  badly  and  that  the  present  crisis  in  China  needs 
men  of  education  to  fill  all  the  important  posts,  I  have  decided 
to  give  up  my  present  position  and  enter  into  the  government 
service. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


AH  FONG  677 

"I  will  have  five  men  to  work  under  me,  besides  my  private 
secretary  and  personal  attendants;  of  course  I  do  not  care  for 
any  of  them,  as  I  have  been  used  to  do  all  things  for  myself 
and  other  things  besides,  but  the  dignity  of  an  official  here 
requires  all  these  good-for-nothing  things.  Again,  the  coun- 
try is  not  yet  quite  settled  down  to  normal,  and  we,  the  of- 
ficials, must  have  these  men  to  protect  us  from  any  unlooked 
for  dangers.  Just  think!  only  about  a  year  ago  I  was  working 
in  a  restaurant  to  make  money  in  order  to  get  a  sheepskin, 
and  here  I  am  an  official  of  the  great  Chinese  Republic.  Of  all 
the  credit  and  honor  I  have  none,  becuase  they  all  belong  to 
Dr.  Hatcher,  to  you,  Miss  Ehzabeth,  to  all  your  family,  and  all 
the  American  friends  and  all  my  teachers,  who  had  helped  me 
to  become  what  I  am.  Had  it  not  been  for  you  and  my  hosts 
of  friends,  I  would  not  have  been  appointed  by  the  govern- 
ment three  times  consecutively  within  a  period  of  only  five 
months.  So  far  as  I  know,  there  has  never  been  any  returned 
student  who  has  been  asked  to  serve  the  government  80  ui^- 
ently.  I  don't  know  the  reason"  why.  The  only  reason  I  can 
gjve  is  that  they  were  quite  surprised  to  find  that  I  cared  eo 
little  for  a  government  poution,  and  my  action  baffled  them." 

From  Hong  Kong,  Chine:,  came  a  letter  from  Ab  Pong's  ■ 
father: 

"My  Dear  Mrs.  Hat^hee, —  .  .  .  For  a  great  number 
of  years  Ah  Fong  has  received  so  much  kindness  and  invaluable 
teachings  from  Dr.  Hatcher  and  you  all  I  feel  that  your  family 
have  been  the  maker  of  Ah  Fong.  This  is  indeed  such  a  kindness 
that  I  cannot  express  my  appreciation  to  you  with  mere  words. 
Now  Ah  Fong  has  returned  to  China  just  starting  to  do  some- 
thing for  his  country,  his  fellow  men  and  for  the  spreading  of 
Christianity  and  to  show  that,  whatever  Dr.  Hatcher  had  done 
for  him  is  not  a  waste  and  that  Ah  Fong's  work  here  in  the 
future  may  be  a  comfort  to  him." 

At  this  writing  Ah  Fong  is  a  professor  in  the  Baptist  Theo- 
logical Seminary  and  also  at  the  head  of  a  Baptist  Academy  in 
China. 

This  memoir  plmnly  requires  of  its  readers  that  they  be  good 
travelers  for  here  we  have  them  peeping  into  one  of  the  lands 
of  the  Orient  and  now  we  must  hurry  them  back  to  South 
Carolina  to  which  state  Dr.  Hatcher  returned  after  hia  parting 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


678  WESTMINSTER 

-with  Ah  Fong.    He  plunges  into  a  revival  campaign  at  West- 
mimBter,  8.  C.  where  he  writes  his  wife  on  March  13th: 

"I  am  often  touching  the  bottom  of  my  strength  these  days, 
but  I  must  not  stop  until  the  Lord  lays  me  down.  The  highest 
joy  of  my  heart  is  that  I  can  work  in  the  way  my  Ufe  has  heen 
cast.     .     .     . 

"Fork  Union  wears  on  me.  It  gives  me  the  hardest  stnuns 
and  not  a  ooppw  of  income  and  no  special  openii^  for  preaching 
and  my  life  is  in  that.  My  health  is  better  when  I  preach  and 
move  around.  So  we  must  pull  along  as  best  it  seems  to  us. 
Give  my  love  to  the  DeMotte. 

"Hastily  and  as  ever". 

R^arding  his  meetings  at  Westminster  the  pastor,  Rev. 
F.  G.  Lavender,  writes: 

"Dr.  Hatcher's  preaclung  drew  the  children.  They  came  in 
crowds  to  every  service  and  gathered  around  him  at  the  close. 
....  It  was  especially  interesting  to  see  the  httie  fellows 
drinking  in  his  sermons. 

"His  sympathy  for  people  in  trouble  was  marvelous.  During 
his  stay  in  our  home  he  had  letters  asking  his  advice  on  w 
manner  of  questions.  Churches  wanted  pastors,  a  n^ege 
wanted  a  preeddeut,  a  mother  wanted  his  advice  about  whether 
or  not  her  daughter  ought  to  marry  a  certmn  young  man  and 
one  of  the  A(^emy  boys  wanted  his  advice  about  buying 
a  pair  of  ovmiioes.  In  answering  these  this  great  man  seemed 
to  take  as  much  interest  in  the  one  aa  in  the  other. 

"Dr.  Hatcher's  deep  piety  and  consecration  impressed  me. 
I  could  mention  several  things  but  one  will  suffice.  One  night 
after  I  had  put  him  to  bed  and  put  out  his  light,  something  e\ae 
in  ^e  room  d^nanded  my  attention  for  a  moment.  He,  think- 
ing I  had  gone  out,  began  to  pray  aJoud  just  as  I  was  closing 
his  room  door.  I  was  now  on  the  outside  and  could  not  catch 
all  the  words,  but  enough  was  heard  to  reveal  the  fact  that 
Dr.  Hatcher  was  in  close  touch  with  God.  He  thanked  God 
for  keeping  him  physically  able  to  work  and  for  givii^  him 
work  to  do. 

"One  night  after  he  had  talked  until  past  midnight  about 
some  of  his  experiences  Mrs.  Lavender  offered  him  some  cake. 
As  she  did  so  he  turned  to  me  and  eaid,  'Isn't  it  a  pity  Eve 
was  ever  invraxted?'    But  he  took  the  cake." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


EDLOE  SNEAD  679 

Ah  Fong'a  reference  to  Mr.  Edloe  &»ead's  home  in  Richmond 
in  which  he  and  Dr.  Hatcher  spent  several  hours  calls  to  mind 
the  many  visits  which  he  ptud  in  that  home  during  the  last 
year  or  two  of  his  life.  Its  three  fine  boys  constituted  one  of  the 
pleasant  charms  of  the  home  to  him.  Mr.  Snead  writes  as 
follows: 

"He  would  often  stop  to  spend  the  night  with  us,  and  would 
come  in  fatigued,  carrying  in  his  right  hand  his  small  v^ise. 
He  never  stopped  to  ring  the  bell;  he  walked  in,  in  a  quiet 
manner,  and  suddenly,  when  he  would  find  eveiything  still, 
he  would  call  out,  'anybody  live  here?'  As  soon  as  we  heard 
that  we  knew  who  it  was  and  always  gave  him  a  hearty  welcome 

"None  could  excel  him  in  telling  of  their  travels.  When 
he  arrived  in  our  home  and  seemed  so  tired;  we  asked  him  it  he 
did  not  ride  in  a  sleeper.  'No',  was  his  reply,  then  'why'?  was 
our  question.  'Because,'  he  said,  'I  wanted  to  use  the  money  for 
a  better  purpose',  and  that  was  to  help  a  poor  boy  at  school. 
In  order  to  help  boys  aH  that  he  could,  he  would  even  sit  up 
all  night  in  a  tnun. 

"Cousin  Nea!,  often  told  him  that  he  could  afford  to  give 
liberally  to  the  Academy,  because  every  time  he  left  Careby 
Hall  it  meant  lots  of  money  for  him.  He  was  very  much  tickled 
at  the  remark  and  ventured  to  say  that  he  had  just  taken  a 
trip  to  a  church  in  ———where  he  was  invited  to  speak. 
It  did  not  pay  him  one  copper,  not  even  his  railroad  fare,  and 
there  were  many  other  places  where  he  had  done  this  without 
receiving  anything.    He  knew  how  to  get  out  of  money's  way. 

"Last  sunmier,  he  and  I  went  to  a  chureh  in  Cbesterfi^. 
We  left  Richmond  about  nine  o'clock  and  reached  the  church 
about  ten.  After  spending  a  very  enjoyable  day  out  there,  we 
returned,  and  I  remarked  to  him  coming  back  that  we  were 
making  ffurly  good  time.  'No  we  are  not,'  he  said  'turn  him 
loose,  and  let  him  go  aiong,  I  camiot  bear  for  other  people 
to  pass  me.' 

'  How  he  adored  boys!  When  he  came  to  our  home,  if 
he  did  not  see  the  children,  he  would  inquire  at  once  for  them, 
and  if  we  said  they  were  studying,  a  look  of  gratification  would 
be  seen  on  his  face.  Once  he  wrote  a  postal  to  little  Edloe 
for  him  to  meet  him  at  the  station.  Somehow  EkUoe  could  not 
go,  and  I  went.  When  he  saw  me  a  look  or  surprise  appeared 
on  his  face,  and  he  seemed  disappointed  when  he  saw  me, 
because  he  was  expecting  Edloe,  Jr." 


iiyGoot^lc 


680      ADDRESS  AT  THE  ORPHANAGE 

He  made  a  speech  at  the  meetdng  of  the  Trustees  of  the 
Orphanage  at  Salem  which  made  a  marked  impresaon. 

"It  was  unique"  says  Dr.  G.  B.  Taylor.  "As  a  graieral 
thing  he  did  not  take  bis  illustratioos  from  history,  or  genend 
biography.  This  day  he  did.  He  told  of  his  visit  to  the  world's 
greatest  cathedral  and  of  the  tradition  concerning  the  archi- 
tect,— he  had  an  ambition  to  build  the  greatest  structure  in  the 
world.  .  .  The  application  of  the  story  was  an  exhorta- 
tion against  selfishness,  and  in  this  connection  he  aaid:  'As 
I  look  back  over  my  life — and  if  I  hve  to  July  25th  I  will  be 
78  years  old — I  cannot  remember  a  angle  act  of  mine  that  has 
been  free  from  selfishness.'  or  some  such  words  as  that  He 
was  probably  not  any  more  selfish  than  all  of  us,  but  certainly 
in  these  candid  words  he  was  most  frank  and  outspoken." 

As  an  indication  of  his  appredation  of  kindness  and  of  his 
manner  of  dealing  with  children  may  be  mentioned  an  inddent 
in  connection  with  his  little  granddaughter  Anna. 

When  the  letter  had  come  Irom  grandfather  telling  of  the 
loss  of  his  valise  with  his  clothes  Anna  was  much  concerned, 
and  she  came  to  her  mother  saying,  "Mother  I  have  saved  up 
rax  dollars  and  I  want  to  send  it  to  grandfather."  Her  motJier 
said,  "Wait  until  father  comes  and  he  will  write  out  a  check; 
that  can  be  s^it  better  than  the  money."  But  Anna  wanted 
to  send  something  right  away  and  so,  in  a  few  minutes,  she 
came  back  to  her  mother  with  three  cents  wr^»ped  up  in  a 
piece  of  brown  paper  and  sfud,  "I  can  send  this  to  grandfatba 
right  away  and  I  can  send  the  six  dollars  when  father  comes," 
and  the  mother,  more  to  please  the  child  tluui  anything  dse, — 
for  she  hardly  thought  that  the  roughly  arranged  little  package, 
which  Anna  had  tied  up  herself,  would  ever  find  its  way  to 
grandfather — addressed  the  pack^e  and  muted  it  with  a  letter 
from  Anna  and  later  on  the  check  was  sent  for  her  other  ^t. 

The  little  brown  parcel,  however,  made  the  trip  safely,  was 
handed  to  grandfather  and  the  three  pennies  came  into  his 
hands,  and  in  a  few  days  there  came  back  to  Anna  tiie  following 
letter: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


GRANDFATHER'S  APPBECUTION    681 

."Mt  Dahlikq  LinxB  Ahna, — ^It  was  way  down  South  in 
IHxie  that  I  got  your  letter  and,  as  I  was  just  leaving  for  home 
when  it  came,  I  had  to  wait  untU  I  got  home  before  I  answered 
it. 

"God  bless  my  dear  granddaughter  who  felt  so  sorry  for 
me,  when  I  lost  my  clothes,  that  she  gave  me  all  she  had  to  get 
me  somethii^  to  wear.  That  was  just  the  prettiest  thing  that 
anybody  ever  did  for  me  and  I  expect  to  thmk  of  it  when  I  get 
to  heaven.  I  have  the  three  cents  which  you  sent  me  and  I 
will  buy  me  something  with  that  money  and  I  will  see  you  about 
the  other  money  when  I  come.  Nobody  will  ever  know  how 
good  I  felt  whffli  I  received  your  letter.  Nobody  ever  was  that 
good  to  me  before  and  I  hope  to  live  long  enough  to  see  you 
get  some  nice  and  big  things.  God  gives  to  those  who  give  to 
him.  I  long  to  see  you.  May  you  have  many  to  love  you  in 
this  world  and  crowns  of  gold  in  the  world  to  come. 
"Vour  Grateful 

"Grandfather." 

He  accompanied  this  letter  with  the  followii^  on  March  22nd 
regarding  the  six  dollars: 

"Mt  Dxab  E.  B., — I  have  read  Anna's  matchless  letter.  It 
is  a  new  type  of  child's  religion.  I  accepted  the  money  in  my 
letter  to  her  and  you  must  have  her  send  it  and  then  in  a  way 
of  which  she  does  not  know  I  must  gradually  accumulate 
something  to  her  account  in  the  bank. 

'"Hub  seems  the  best  way  to  do  that  I  can  think  of. 

"I  am  at  hotoe,  tired  in  oxteen  points  out  of  eighteen  and, — 
in  the  language  c^  the  mountaineer — 'I  am  getting  tireder  tuid 
tireder  every  day".  When  I  get  my  work  through  on  my  Ded- 
ication and  revival  meetings  in  Petersburg  I  will  compose  my 
bones  and  rest  up  some." 

His  daughter  Edith  was  plannii^  to  go  abroad  during  the 
Summer  to  pursue  a  special  course  in  music.  Already  she  had 
taken  an  extenmve  course  in  New  York  and  London  and  had 
taken  lessons  under  the  great  Lechkitisky  of  Austria  and  her 
heart  was  set  upon  a  second  viat  to  the  world's  famous  artist. 
She  hod  written  her  father  of  her  plans  and  he  wrote  in  reply 
on  March  ^nd: 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


482  tETERSBmiG 

"...  Of  course  I  long  to  have  you  at  Careby  whenevet 
it  suits  you.    You  add  light  and  cheer  to  me  in  many  ways. 

".  .  .  But  I  am  not  expecting,  or  even  willing,  for  you  to 
break  from  the  line  of  your  destiny  to  coi^ole  an  old  thing  like 
me;  indeed  that  ia  not  what  1  need.  My  life  is  in  going  and 
workii^  and  I  have  had  a  festival  of  it  this  winter.  I  am  hoping 
to  spend  Easter  at  Careby  with  you. 

"I  am  wild  with  multitudinous  things  today." 

In  ^ving  Edith  one  of  his  "Jasper"  books  he  wrote  on  the 
fly  leaf,  "Strike  no  chord  on  earth  to  which  heaven  will  not 
respond". 

"It  is  a  joy  to  see  your  father  so  free  from  weakness'  hia 
wife  writes.  "He  walks  over  to  mwl  a  letter  in  the  momii^ 
and  will  go  again  in  the  afternoon  to  see  a  base-ball  game, 
standing  around  talking  and  will  receive  any  number  of  ^eta 
who  come  to  air  their  grievances  or  tell  their  wants,  and  then 
dictate  to  one  of  the  professors  who  will  write  for  him  until 
eleven  o'clock." 

Petersburg  is  the  next  scene  of  his  labors  and  there  he  dedi- 
cates a  church  and  holds  revival  meetings  at  tbe  West  End 
Church.  In  writing  to  his  daughter  Orie  from  Petersburg  re- 
garding his  irregularity  in  writing  to  his  children  he  says: 

"My  eyeagfat  has  become  so  feeble  that  it  is  with  difficulty 
that  I  can  do  any  writii^  of  my  own  and  my  peripatetic  habits 
make  it  impossible  for  me  to  have  any  steady  arrangements 
for  type  writing.  .  ,  It  may  interest  you  to  Imow  that  I  have 
fatt^ed  up  about  fifteen  pounds  during  the  winter." 

Such  fattening,  however,  at  his  age  was  a  symptom  that 
needed  to  be  watched.  He  bends  himself  to  his  tasks,  and  each 
day  he  worics  as  if  eagerly  grateful  for  the  new  day  that  was 
his.  From  Petersburg  he  returns  to  Fork  Union  where  he  finds 
his  usual  accumulations  of  duties. 

"I  am  home  for  a  week"  he  writes  "but  fatigued  to  the  point 
of  a  collapraouB  feeling."  Nearly  all' the  family  were  with  him 
for  an  E^aster  reunion. 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


UNVEILING  THE  PORTRAIT         683 

"We  are  on  the  porch  most  of  the  time"  writea  hia  wife, 
"occasionally  going  into  the  parlor  with  a  victor  to  an  open 
fire  or  gathering  at  night  in  Brer  ijptcher'a  room  where  he  loves 
to  keep  up  his  stove  fires  and  distribute  peanuts,  apples, 
oranges  and  candy  that  he  brings  home  in  his  big  baskets." 

On  April  27th  he  writes  me  the  following  card : 

"Fork  Union  beat  first  Team  ol  lUchmond  College  yesterday 
8  to  5.    Tea  William." 

The  boys  had  a  bon-fire  and  procession  that  night  and 
marched  over  to  Careby  Hall  and  lined  up  in  front  of  the  house 
about  10  P.  M.  He  came  out  and  made  them  a  speech.  "He 
invited  the  team  over  here  last  night"  writes  his  wife  "and  gave 
them  a  little  party — having  some  of  the  girls  of  the  town  to 
meet  them."  His  days  at  Fork  Union  were  always  crowded  and 
it  was  just  such  days  that  he  moat  delighted  in. 

Mrs.  J.  D.  CamesI  of  BJchmond  had  decided  to  present  to 
the  Academy  an  oil  pfuntuig  of  Dr.  Hatcher  and  the  artist 
visited  Fork  Union  that  he  might  give  him  some  attinga.  He 
felt  that  he  needed  to  hear  his  voice  as  well  as  to  study  his 
face  and  so  he  said  to  him  one  day  "Dr.  Hatcher,  I  want  to 
hear  your  voice ." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  want  to  hear  the  voice  of  a  worn  out 
old  shack  like  me"  he  replied.  "If  it  was  a  young  girl  whose 
voice  you  wanted  to  bear  then  I  could  see  some  reason  in  it." 

The  portrut  was  presented  to  the  Academy  durii^  the 
Commencement  exercises  by  President  Boatwrigbt  of  Richmond 
College.  As  Dr.  Boatwrigbt  unveiled  the  portrait  bringing 
the  famihar  face  into  public  view  the  audience  of  students, 
faculty  and  Fluvanna  people  broke  into  tumultuous  applause 
and  when  he  arose  to  respond,  the  applause  continued  long 
and  loud  and  when  quiet  was  restored  he  began, — "That  is 
sweeter  to  me  than  the  strains  of  richest  music." 

In  presenting  the  picture  Dr.  Boatwrigbt  had  sud  that  in 
future  yeftrs  the  boys  of  the  Academy  would  look  upon  his 
face  and  be  inspired  to  noble  things.    Over  the  platform  of  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


684  BUSY  IN  JUNE 

Academy  auditorium  the  picture  now  hangs  at  every  Com- 
mencement and  at  the  opening  exerdses  of  the  Academy. 

It  seems  that  in  the  exercises  some  one  had  spoken  of  a 
monument  to  Dr.  Hatcher  and  in  his  response  he  Btdd  pointing 
to  the  Academy — "This  is. what  I  hope  will  be  my  monu- 
mrait." 

In  that  scorching  month  of  June  he  made  another  journey 
to  South  Carolina  for  a  dedication  service  in  Colimibia  where 
he  preached  three  times  on  Sunday.  He  preached  two  Sun- 
days at  the  Second  Church  in  Richmond,  and  in  addition  he 
sud:  "I  have  to  look  after  the  catalogue,  make  arrangemoit 
about  advertising  and  do  as  much  stenographic  work  aa  I 
can." 

Rev.  IL  T.  Marsh  approached  him  in  behalf  of  a  young  man 
who  was  needing  an  education,  and  his  reply  was: 

"I  have  not  a  dollar  for  him.  I  do  not  know  how  or  where 
I  will  get  it;  but  you  send  him  on  and  Fit  find  it  somehow.  He 
is  red-headed  and  has  fire  in  him  to  try  and  I  will  see  that  he 
has  a  chance." 

"June  is  very  full  for  me"  he  wrote  me  on  the  17th  "Dedi- 
cations are  now  brisk.  I  am  hard  at  work  on  Catalogue  of  the 
Academy — have  pretty  much  all  of  it  to  do."  ' 

Dr.  Frost  wrote  him  that  his  dearly  loved  friend  Ju(^ 
Haralson  had  just  passed  away.  In  his  reply  to  Dr.  Frost,  he 
closed  his  letter  as  follows:  "It  is  enough  to  bring  on  shouting 
to  think  that  Haralson  has  gone  up  to  see  the  Father.  It 
makes  heaven  about  twice  as  real,  but  makes  the  earth  look 
scant  and  pinched  and  lonesome.  But  never  mind;  he  still 
belongs  to  us;  we  have  stored  him  away  and  he  is  now  waiting 
to  bring  us  into  the  king  with  honor  when  we  get  there." 

"I  also  have  been  out  of  kelter"  he  writes  Rev,  R,  H.  Win- 
free  on  July  16th  "and  I  suppose  I  would  be  sick  now  in  certun 
spots  if  I  had  time  to  inquire  about  it." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


CHAPTER  XLV 


BUSY    HBBB    AND   THSBB.        ADDRESa    AT    JODGB    WITT  S    FDNERAL. 

THE    QRANDCHILDREN.      A    CROWDED   W&EK.      HAPPY 

DAYS    AT    CAREBY.      THE    END, 

From  far  away  Texas  had  come  an  invitation  to  him  from 
Rev.  J.  V.  Dickinson  to  attend  the  25th  anniversary  of  his 
marriage.     In  reply  he  writes: 

".  .  .  Texas  is  too  far  away.  I  cannot  make  the  trip 
but  friendship  is  a  mighty  traveler.  It  can  stride  its  way  over 
land  and  sea  and  not  even  the  boundless  plains  of  Texas  can 
defy  friendship's  loving  invasions. 

"My  friendship  has  to  start  on  the  day  of  the  event  and  will 
land  at  the  altar  when  your  vows  are  renewed  but  its  creden- 
tials cannot  fly  so  fast  and  while  tins  letter  will  arrive  after 
time  it  will  testify  that  you  are  remembered  at  Careby  Htdl 
on  the  bridal  day." 

He  received  a  letter  from  his  best  and  life-long  friend,  Dr. 
J.  R.  Bagby,  in  which  he  sfud: 

"I  must  see  you  oftener  so  as  to  cheer  me  up.  We  must  not 
drift  apart  now.  I  was  preaching  on  friendship  a  httle  while 
ago  and  while  talking  about  it  I  thought  of  the  tender  stroi^ 
tie  that  had  bound  us  so  closely  together  for  so  many  years. 
How  sweet  and  precious  the  hnk  has  been  and  still  is.  It  must 
not  grow  less  so,  and  shall  not,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

He  left  Fork  Union  for  King  and  Queen  coimty  about 
August  1st  and  stopped  in  Richmond  where  he  met  his  young 
friend  Rev.  R.  H.  Winfree  and  together  they  went  up  into  the 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


686  BRUINGTON 

Buoness  Men's  Club  room  on  the  dgbt  floor  for  luncheon. 
After  taking  their  seat  near  the  window  which  gave  a  com- 
manding view  of  Manchester  and  the  country  beyond  he  said: 
"Get  up  Robert  and  let  me  have  your  place  I  want  to  take  & 
look  at  my  beloved  Chesterfield.  You  are  going  there  this 
evening  and  I  cant  go".  While  they  were  eating  a  somewhat 
youthful  gentleman  sauntered  over  and  with  a  swin^ng  voice 
sud:  "How  is  my  venerable  friend  Dr.  Hatcher?"  The  word 
"venerable"  seemed  to  touch  him  in  a  vital  spot  uid  he  replied 
in  an  almost  accusing  tone: 

"Venerable"  you  say.  "Will  you  allow  me  to  remark  that  I 
have  to  take  the  train  at  half  past  three,  get  off  at  Lester  Manor, 
take  the  stage  and  go  to  Walkerton  and  then  dx  miles  to  Mr. 
Fleets;  spend  the  night  and  next  morning  preach  at  Bruii^ton 
and  that  evening  drive  to  St.  Stephens  aiid  at  night  to  Dan 
Fleets  and  next  morning  go  to  Walkerton  and  then  by  stf^ 
to  Lester  Manor  and  there  take  trwn  to  Richmond;  and  now 
if  you  have  any  young  fellow  that  can  do  any  better  than  that 
trot  him  out." 

"I  w^it  with  him  to  the  tnun  to  help  liim  with  his  satchd" 
says  Mr.  Winfree.  "As  we  sat  talking  he  sfud  to  me,  "Bob, 
I  am  always  in  trouble  about  you.' 

"I  said,  'Doctor,  what  are  you  m  trouble  about  me  for?' 

"He  replied,  'Last  year  3n>u  were  kwldug  so  pale  and  weak 
I  thought  you  would  die  and  leave  me;  now  you  are  lo(ridng  so 
well,  I  am  grieved  because  I  fear  I  shall  die  and  leave  you.'  " 

In  80  many  of  his  conversations  in  these  months  his  words 
dropped  intimation  that  he  thou^t  he  would  soon  recwve 
his  final  call. 

He  went  on  his  circuitous  and  arduous  journey  that  after- 
noon preaching  on  the  next  day  at  old  Bmington  Church, 
about  which  he  thus  writes: 

".  .  .  Just  forty-seven  years  £^o,  while  yet  young  and  raw 
I  asoBted  Dr.  Bichturd  Hugh  Bagby  in  a  revival  meeting  at 
Bruington;  and  I  wished  before  my  ^es  close  to  the  scenes  ctf 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


AT  RICHMOND  PASTOR'S  CONFERENCE  687 

earth  to  look  upon  the  historic  old  church  once  more.    I  reached 
there  after  dark  on  Saturday,  and  left  before  light  on  Monday." 

He  hurried  back  to  Bichmoud  where  he  had  to  preach  the 
funeral  of  Mb  long  time  friend  Judge  S.  B.  Witt, — a  gentleman 
whom  he  held  in  high  and  affectionate  eeteem.  Only  a  few  days 
ago  a  gentleman  stud  to  me, — ^when  I  told  him  that  I  was  writ- 
ing the  present  biography,  "You  ought  by  all  means  to  put  into 
it  the  wonderful  sermon  that  be  preached  at  the  funeral  of 
Judge  Witt."  The  Judge  had  refrained  from  making  any  public 
religious  profession  until  a  year  or  so  before  his  death,  and  Dr. 
Hatcher  selected  the  case  of  Moees  whom  it  took  God  forty 
years  to  bring  into  his  active  service  as  the  baas  for  hia  remariu 
about  Judge  Witt.  The  Grace  Street  Auditorium  was  packed 
with  a  congregation  that  included  many  of  Bichmond's  most 
distinguished  Jurists  and  profesdonal  men  and  the  sermon 
impressed  profoundly  the  audience  by  its  unique  and  eloquent 
treatment  of  the  subject.  It  was  shortly  before  this  that  he 
went  one  Monday  morning  into  the  Ministers'  Conference  of 
Bjcbmond. 

"It  was  report  day"  says  Dr.  G.  W,  McDaniel.  "He  lis- 
tened to  the  brethren  as,  one  aft«r  another,  they  told  in  short 
and  mmple  manner  of  the  domgs  of  the  Lord  in  th^r  churches. 
When  all  the  paetois  had  finished,  the  venerable  lesd^  arose. 
His  face  was  flushed  with  enthusiaam,  hia  eye  sparkled  with 
delight,  his  voice  trembled  with  emotion.  He  spoke  thus: 
'My  brethren,  I  am  on  the  heights  this  morning.  For  over 
fifty  years  I  have  known  this  conference  and  for  most  of  my 
ministerial  fife  I  have  been  a  member.  In  all  that  time  I  have 
never  heard  such  thrilling  reports.  We  never  had  a  more 
efficient  ministry  than  I  see  around  me  to-day.  I  am  glad  I  am 
alive  and  I  can  die  happy,  seeing  that  our  Baptist  cause  is 
prosperii^  in  this  city,  which  I  love  above  all  others.' 

His  words  fell  like  a  benediction  upon  our  hearts;  they 
strengthened  our  hands  for  present  tasks  and  nerved  our  arms 
for  laiger  undertakings.  Coming  from  one  so  competent  to 
judge  and  so  careful  in  speech,  they  were  a  positive  inspiration." 

In  August  tiie  following  paragraph  aiqKared  in  the  Herald' 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


688  AT  CAEEBY  HALL 

and  was  copied  in  other  state  pi^iera  going  the  rounds  from  one 
to  the  other. 

"Dr.  William  E.  Hatcher,  who  passed  the  Beventy-dghth 
mile  post  last  week,  has  gained  twenty-five  pounds  in  weight 
in  recent  months,  and  finds  rest  in  work.  Attending  two  or 
three  district  associations  each  week,  dedicating  churchee, 
holding  protracted  meetings  and  guiding  the  dest^iy  of  Fork 
Union  Military  Academy,  are  a  few  of  the  means  used  in 
consuming  the  energy  of  his  perpetual  youth." 

His  wife  swd  that  he  had  kept  saying  during  Jofy  "I 
am  ao  lonesome.  I  want  Eldridge  to  come  on.  I  want  to 
talk  with  him."  He  was  away  on  hie  travels  whoi  we  arrived 
at  Careby  for  our  Summer  visit  but  he  touched  the  hiHne  base 
in  a  few  days.  His  health  and  spirit  seemed  to  be  at  high  water 
mark.  He  would  stay  a  few  days,  thm  start  out  on  his  travels 
and  in  a  few  days  would  return.  What  a  welcome  he  would 
recdve  from  the  graudchildrea, — and  in  fact  from  all  the 
Carebyites.  During  this  seasim  he  ate  all  his  meals  cither  in 
his  study  or  out  under  the  trees, — not  once  in  the  dining  room — 
and  everybody  at  Careby  Hall  were  his  waiters.  At  this  time 
he  was  eager  to  plunge  into  his  mail  on  his  return  for  his  anx- 
iety about  the  number  of  students  for  next  aeaaoa  was  alwaya 
great  at  this  season.  His  eye  scanned  his  mul  rapidly 
and  seemed  to  pick  out  its  salient  messages  quickly.  In  the 
meantime  the  grandmother,  the  childrai  and  grandchildren 
would  be  piled  around  the  room. 

"Tell  me  some  news"  he  would  call  out  and  we  would  have 
th  report  the  latest  items  of  village  life. 

As  usual  he  always  came  back  loaded  witii  his  baskets  and 
bundles  of  candy,  cakes  and  fruit.  "Oh,  my.  Are'nt  they 
good?"  "Is'nt  grandfather  nice?"  "Grandfathw  3rou  must 
come  back  again  the  next  time  you  go  away."  Buch  were  the 
exclamations  that  greeted  Ms  return. 

"Bed  time"  would  be  called  out  in  a  sht^  while,  and  then 
would  come  the  appeal, 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


AT  THREE  ASSOCIATIONS  689 

"Oh,  mother;  just  let  us  at  up  a  little  longer — ^just  a  little 
longer  for  grandfather  has  been  away,  you  know." 

But  that  night  others  would  come  in, — Stephens,  the  Aca- 
demy treasurer,  or  Capt.  Snead  or  yet  others  and  thus  the 
talk  would  run  on  towards  midnight. 

Next  morning  his  stenographer  would  appear  on  the  scene 
immediately  aft«r  breakfast  and  together  they  would  attack 
the  large  mful  pile.  After  several  hours  of  dictation  he  would 
call  out: 

"WiUiamI  Quoits!"  or  "Virginial  Dominoes!"  "I'm  cimiing" 
was  the  reply  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  perplenties  and  burdens 
that  his  mtul  had  flung  upon  his  mind  were  gradually  rolled 
off  in  the  enthudasm  of  the  game.  When  it  was  all  over  he  was 
ready  to  dictate  his  Sunday  School  lessons  or  an  article  for  the 
papers,  or  to  have  a  conference  with  a  Trustee,  a  Summer  pupil, 
or  a  professor  or  some  other  visitor,  or  to  take  a  brief  nap  on  his 
couch  or  a  frolic  with  the  grandchildren.  Every  game  would 
usually  wind  up  by  grandfather  tripping  off  into  his  room  and 
soon  emer^ng  upon  the  porch  with  a  bf^  or  basket  of  fruits  or 
sweets. 

During  the  week  b^pnning  August  11th — with  seventy- 
eight  years  upon  him  and  amid  the  heat  and  dust  of  travel — he 
visited  three  Associations  in  widely  separated  parts  of  the 
state.  He  spent  Tuesday  at  the  Concord  Association  at 
Chatham  where  he  was  given  a  loving  welcome,  and  where 
he  took  active  part  in  the  meeting.  "He  was  radiant  and 
charming  in  conversation,  sparkling  with  humor  as  of  old" 
writes  one  of  the  vimtors.  His  speech  on  education  was  aaid 
to  be  full  of  vigorous  thoi^ht  and  "was  delivered  with  intense 
earnestness  and  in  the  rare  and  interesting  style  peculiar  to 
Dr.  Hatcher,"  Next  morning  at  five  o'clock  he  was  "up  and 
gone"  on  his  journey  to  the  Piedmont  Association  where  upon 
his  arrival  he  was  requested  by  the  Association  to  preach 
before  the  body.  His  subject  was  "Zaccheus,  or  the  evidences 
of  a  converted  heart."  "He  seemed  very  feeble  when  he  oom- 
m^ced"  says  one  who  heard  him  "but,  as  he  talked,  he  gather- 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


690        AT  THE  POTOMAC  ASSOCIATION 

ed  inBpiration,  and  I  never  lieard  him  preach  witli  greater 
force  or  more  telling  effect."  He  left  that  afternoon  and  <hi 
the  next  morning  he  was  in  a  far-away  section  of  the  state  at 
the  Potomac  Association  and  there  too  he  was  requested 
upon  his  arrival  to  preach  before  the  body.  His  text  on  this 
occasion  was  "Leadership  in  the  kingdom  of  God."  A  young 
minister  who  heard  him  remarked  to  a  friend,  "It  would  take 
me  200  yeara  to  be  able  to  preach  a  sermon  like  that." 

That  afternoon  there  came  a  lull  in  s  collection  which  the 
Aseodatlon  had  ordered  to  be  taken  for  the  purchase  of  a 
church  building. 

"Dr.  Hatcher,  help  ua  take  this  collection"  said  some  one. 
He  arose  and  replied:  "Brethren  if  I  am  to  do  this  work  it 
must  be  done  quickly  as  I  have  ooly  a  short  time  to  remun." 
The  automobile  was  already  at  the  door  to  bear  him  to  the 
depot.  He  sounded  the  appeal  and  called  for  subscriptions 
and  one  by  one  they  b^an  to  come  in.  After  a  while  tiie 
subscriptions  stopped  coming  and  he  prodded  his  audience 
in  a  genial  way.  S112  of  the  total  $500  was  still  needed  and  a 
brother  called  out,  "I  will  give  as  much  as  John  Knchdow." 
Dr.  Hatcher  accepted  the  challenge  and  turned  his  gase  in 
search  of  Mr.  Kinchelow.  The  old  man,  now  grown  some- 
what feeble,  was  out  in  the  yard  but  upon  learning  that  he 
was  wanted  in  the  house  quickly  appeared  at  the  ade  door, 
while  the  audience  watched  with  eager  expectancy  for  the 
next  move.  Dr.  Hatcher  explained  to  Mr.  Qnchelow  the 
ntuatjon  and  he  replied,  "I  will  fpve  one-half  of  the  amount 
needed."  This  completed  the  sum  and  sent  a  happy  ripple 
over  the  audience.  Dr.  Hatcher  then  made  a  tender  address 
to  the  Association  and  closed  by  turning  to  his  friend,  Mr. 
Kinchdow  and  sayii^: 

"John,  the  beloved,  this  is  not  the  first  time  you  have  hdped 
me  through  a  difficult  place  in  a  collection.  Our  work  will 
soon  be  done  and  I  have  an  impression  that  nether  of  us  will 
ever  meet  at  another  Association." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BUSY  DAYS  AT  CAREBY  691 

At  this  Potconac  Afisociation  he  spoke  words  to  a  young 
man,  Mr.  G.  H.  Payne,  that  led  him  to  enter  the  ministry. 
He  aaid  to  several  persons  at  the  Association  that  he  had 
an  oppres^Te  premonition  that  bis  end  was  not  far  away. 

"Dont  let  us  go  to  bed"  he  would  say  to  his  friends,  "let 
ua  st  up  all  night." 

From  the  Potomac  Asaociation  he  hurried  to  Culpeper  that 
he  might  drive  into  the  country  to  talk  with  a  boy  about 
c<Mning  to  the  Academy. 

"He  was  going  to  take  the  lad  practically  at  his  own 
ch&i^es,"  says  Dr.  E.  W.  Winfrey  who  carried  him  to  the 
boy's  home,  "agredi^  to  almost,  if  not  quite,  'foot  the  entire 
bill.'  How  sanely  and  sagely  he  talked  that  morning.  .  .  . 
more  than  once  mentioning  the  fact  that  he  might  not  be 
with  us  much  longer, — and  yet,  as  always,  full  of  ideas  and 
plana  and  enterprises." 

He  reached  Careby  on  Friday  night  about  eight  o'clock, 
very  tired.  After  finishing  his  supper  in  his  room  and  reciting 
the  events  of  his  trip  to  some  of  the  family  who  were  gathered 
around  him  and  to  Captaan  Charles  Snead  who  had  come  over 
to  meet  him  and  who  was  one  of  the  Trustees  he  said:  "Well 
Charies,  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  my  row  and  you  and  the 
others  will  have  to  take  up  the  work  now."  He  spoke  as  one 
exhausted  after  malring  a  supreme  strugxle. 

But  next  morning  he  was  up  with  a  new  Ught  in  Us  eye  and 
with  an  alert  step.  He  had  arranged  to  spend  the  following 
week  at  Careby. 

The  days  that  followed  were  packed  with  toil  which  was 
interspersed  with  games  and  joUifications  with  the  grand- 
children. Ofttimes,  as  the  children  and  grandchildren  would 
be  scattered  over  the  lawn — some  in  hammocks,  some  in  churs 
and  others  seated  on  the  grass — grandfather  would  appear  at 
the  front  door  with  a  box,  or  bag,  in  his  hand  and,  running  his 
eye  over  the  yard  in  search  of  the  young  ones,  he  would  start 
down  the  steps  and  out  on  the  grounds,  going  from  one  group 
to  anothOT  with  his  "treat",  until  he  had  made  the  entire 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


692     ANXIETY  AS  TO  THE  ACADEMY 

round.  Sometimes  he  would  repeat  the  circuit  before  going 
in  and  this  would  be  usually  repeated  one  or  more  timetf  during 
\he  day  and  during  each  day. 

To  Rev.  Andrew  Broaddus  be  writes: 

"Fork  Union  Va.,  August  19,  1912. 
"My  Dear  Andrew, — I  was  really  homesick  for  the  Hermon 
Association — that  ia,  home-^ck  for  you.  I  was  tainted  up 
m  several  directions  and  could  not  come  to  your  longdom 
this  time.  But  I  love  you  just  the  same  and  will  never  weary 
of  thinking  of  you.  All  the  older  generation,  except  Bagby, 
and  Charies  Kyland,  seem  to  have  Sed  from  the  stage  and 
they  are  practically  trembling  their  way  off  and  I  seem  to 
be  lingering  superfiuous.  I  have  to  depend  upon  you  and 
JuUan  and  Lake  and  Winfree  for  even  the  semblance  of  con- 
temporaries, but  you  are  not  contemporaries  and  this  ia  all 
the  better  for  me.  I  can  feed  upon  your  remaining  strength 
and  be  the  richer  for  it.    I  long  to  see  you  at  Fork  Union. 

"Hastily,  but  very  sincerely, 
"W.   E.    Hatcher." 

"P.  S.  Tell  Gay  she  has  not  sent  me  the  two  boys  as  I  told 
her  and  ask  Kirk  what  he  is  doing  about  it." 

On  Wednesday  he  wrote  to  his  beloved  R.  H.  Winfree: 

"Fork  Union,  Va.,  August  21,  1912. 
"My  evbk  dear  Robert, — My  soul  hungers  for  you,  my 
thoughts  go  after  you  constantly  and  I  long  for  a  good  easy 
time  with  you.  I  suppose  that  your  meeting  is  going  on  at 
Mt.  Hermon  this  week  and  I  keep  thinking  about  you.  .  .  . 
I  have  been  working  very  hard  this  Summer.  The  outlook  for 
the  session  is  fair  but  I  am  not  sure  it  will  be  as  good  aa  it  was 
last  year. 

"Very  hastily, 

"Wm.  E.  Hatcher." 

"Eldridge,  what  is  going  to  become  of  the  Academy  when 
I  am  gone?"  he  asked  me  one  day  that  week  m  anxious  tones. 
On  another  day  he  sfud, — in  a  manner  betokening  the  burden 
that  was  on  him, — "Tell  me  what  to  do  with  the  Aoodony." 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


BUSY  AT  CAREBY  .      693 

One  day  he  said,  "Eldridge,  whydoa't  you  buy  the  Academy?" 
I  told  him  that  the  new  man  whom  he  had  secured  for  head- 
master might  come  and  like  the  school  and  might  buy  it  himself 
:  and  thus  insure  its  permanency.  His  constant  soUcitude  as 
to  the  future  of  the  school  was  so  apparent  to  us  all  that  we 
were  ever  seeking  to  cheer  him.  He  himself  knew  that  its 
burdens  were  too  heavy  for  his  weakening  shoulders  and  that 
it  was  threatening  his  life  and  yet  the  life  of  the  Academy 
seemed  to  him  more  important  than  his  own.  One  night  he 
Sfud  to  his  wife,  in  connection  with  the  uncertainty  as  to  the 
Academy's  future:  "Well,  even  though  it  should  die,  it  has 
at  least  given  me  the  opportunity  of  helping  many  a  poor  boy 
get  an  education." 

If  acme  one  could  only  have  told  him  at  that  time  that  in 
about  two  years  after  his  death  the  Virginia  Baptists  through 
thdr  Education  Commission  would  inaugurate  a.  campaign  to 
nuse  $50,000  with  which  to  equip  the  Fork  Union  Academy 
and  that  at  its  head  would  be  a  young  man,  Mr.  C.  E.  Croaland, 
a  Cecil  Rhodes  graduate  of  the  Oxford  University,  Mghly 
gifted  and  fully  sympathetic  with  the  ideals  of  the  founder 
and  apparently  htted  and  destined  to  build  up  the  Academy  into 
lai^e  and  splendid  proportions, — but  ah,  this  he  .did  not  know. 

Each  day  had  ite  variety  of  tasks  and  inddente.  He  seemed 
detenniued  that  all  his  many  guests  should  be  kept  happy, 
that  his  stenographer  should  be  kept  busy  and  that  no  idle 
hours  should  hang  on  his  hands. 

The  Chicago  Standard  in  its  issue  of  that  week  stud:  "Dr. 
W.  E.  Hatcher  of  the  South  recently  celebrated  his  78th 
birthday  and  is  still  one  of  the  most  active  and  efficient  workers 
among  his  brethren.  .  .  .  Years  do  not  count  with  some 
men  who  know  how  to  keep  young."  One  day  he  and  his 
daughter-in-law  were  seated  on  the  lawn,  not  far  from  each 
other,  and  yet  apparently  unconscious  of  the  other's  presence, 
when  he  was  heard  to  say,  as  if  communing  with  himself,  "I 
was  not  bom  for  popularity  but  I  was  bom  for  friendship." 
One  aftenuxm  be  started  over  to  the  Academy  grounds  pre> 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


d94       -       filS  WISH  GRATIFIED 

pared  to  stop  a  base  ball  game  unleaa  the  players  first  complied 
with  T^ulatioiis  which  he,  as  SuperintendeiLt  of  grounds,  had 
made  regarding  the  use  of  the  Campus;  and  those  who  saw 
him  start  off  down  the  hill  that  afternoon  noticed  that  he 
still  had  in  him  his  old  fighting  spirit, — to  be  called  into  action 
if  the  occasott  demanded  it.  Very  soon  however  the  shouts 
on  the  base  ball  grounds  announced  that  all  difficulties  had 
vanished  and  the  game  was  under  way,  and  no  one  of  the 
spectators  was  more  enthuaastically  interested  in  the  contest 
than  the  old  gcmtleman  of  seventy-eight.  On  Thursday  night 
the  trustees  dehghted  him  by  their  hearty  response  to  his 
aiq>eal  that  tb^  would  cooperate  in  providing  a  Water  Plant 
for  the  Academy.  "We  bad  a  great  meeting  tonight"  he  said 
with  radiant  face  as  he  came  out  in  the  yard  after  the  trustees 
had  disp^ved  and  it  was  reported  by  the  trustees  that  he 
offered  one  of  the  most  impassioned  prayers  for  the  Academy 
that  night  that  tbeiy  had  ever  heard  from  him. 

Friday  found  him  with  a  buey  schedule, — ^walking  over 
to  the  Bashaw's  and  the  Wright's  for  confer^ices  about  the 
Academy  and  certain  improvements  for  the  village  and  as  he 
climbed  the  Careby  hill  on  his  return  and  approached  us  <m 
the  lawn  he  moved  with  an  unusually  alert  step  and  surprised 
us  as  he  said  "Well  I  believe  the  Lord  is  going  to  let  me  live 
two  or  three  years  longer"  Never  durii^  his  later  years  had 
we  heard  tnmi  htm  such  a  remark.  In  speaking  of  his  plans 
he  would  always  interject  the  proviso  "that  is,  if  the  Lord 
lets  me  live."  He  bore  himself  that  day  as  if  he  had  recdved 
a  fresh  and  sudden  supply  of  phy^cal  and  mental  vigor. 

On  that  night  the  building  and  grounds  at  Careby  Hall  were 
thronged  with  the  Fork  Union  people.  The  neighbors,  young 
and  old,  with  their  children  were  there  and  thdr  jovial  chats 
and  merry  lat^hier  filled  the  air.  About  9:30 — after  induing 
in  varied  sodal  festivities — they  moved  to  the  front  and 
listoied  to  an  address  from  Dr.  Hatcher  as  he  stood  on  his 
front  porch  with  his  wife  at  his  mde.  He  spoke  to  them  on  the 
importance  of  m^Jring  certain  improv^nents  in  the  village  and 


D.qit.zeaOvGoOt^lc 


"GRACE  STREET'S"  BEAUTIFUL  DEED  696 

closed  his  address  by  pointing  the  young  people  to  high  ideals. 
Late  thai  night,  after  bidding  me  good  night  in  his  room,  saying 
"God  bless  you"  he  went  into  conference  with  his  Aoadony 


Kext  morning  early  he  was  at  his  open  window  ungiog  and 
whistling  and  at  about  7:30 — hs  feU.  Yes;  that  vigorous  body 
that  had  stood  and  toiled  and  traveled  and  borne  burdens 
for  8eventy-e^;ht  years  had  at  last  fallen  to  the  earth.  His 
wife,  in  the  next  room,  heard  him  say  in  subdued  tones  "Every- 
body better  get  up;  everybody  better  get  up."  Upon  hurrying 
to  his  aide  she  found  him  lying  with  his  body  partly  upon  the 
couch  and  partly  on  the  floor.  "I  have  been  here  long  Plough; 
I  must  be  goii^'  I  heard  him  say  somewhat  huskily  as  I 
approached  him.  It  was  a  ste<^e  of  paralysis  that  rendered 
helpless  his  left  ade.  Later  on,  not  seeing  his  wife,  he  scud; 
"Where  is  Jeuniet"  De^ite  all  efforts  of  physidans  and 
loved  ones  and  friokds  the  other  mde  soon  felt  the  fatal  touch 
and  shortly  before  ten  o'clock  his  body  became  quiet  and  his 
spirit  had  taken  its  flight  for  the  other  world. 

His  words  concerning  Dr.  J.  B.  Jeter,  seem  ^)propriate  in 
his  own  case: 

"He  died  splendidly — in  all  his  ripened,  glorifius  prime.  He 
did  not  crumble  into  decay,  nor  shiivel  into  imbecihty.  Dia- 
ease  did  not  waste  and  age  did  not  shatter  him;  but,  like  the 
imperial  leader  of  Israel,  he  came  to  Pisgah  with  eye  undimmed 
and  strength  unabated.  I  count  his  death  pre-eminently  happy. 
When  his  hour  came  to  go  his  loving  father  put  his  finger  upon 
the  en^ery  of  his  heart — that  heart  which  had  been  beatmg, 
beating,  beating  for  nearly  eighty  years  and  beating  always 
highest  for  his  father's  honor.  He  felt  the  solemn  touch  and 
the  vast  machinery  of  his  life  trembled,  groaned,  creaked  and 
sWvered;  but  only  for  a  moment  and  tiien  standing  suddenly 
stilt,  his  ^^ad  spirit  was  out  and  gone,  upward  and  away  in  ito 
celestial  flight.  It  was  a  translation  in  its  suddenness  and  an 
ascension  in  its  triumph  and  ^oiy." 

While  the  family  were  preparing  for  the  burial  at  Fork 
Union  a  del^^tion  of  deacons  from  hia  old  Grace  Street 


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