# My Life Is an Open Book (Hancock)/Chapter 3

Our school in Unionville opened with one hundred and twenty-five pupils. It was taught in the court house, which was a log building, one and one-half stories high. It had two rooms, a lower and upper room. The lower was the court room, the upper room was the clerk's office. William Shelton, a young Kentuckian and three years my senior, had charge of the upper room. During the school term, except when court would be in session, we had full control of the lower room. As Mr. Shelton was from the same part of Kentucky that I was, and our parents had been associates, we were soon intimates and confidants. He was the only one that I counseled during that school term. He willingly assisted me all that he could. One thing he seemed to conclude that I did not need assistance in, and that was the use of the rod.
I soon found that I had a herculean task on my hands. I was told that a public school had never been taught in the town, that one or two had been commenced but the boys proved to be master of the situation. One thing I saw had to be settled first of all; namely, would I or those boys prove to be master? There were two or three ring leaders. One of these was in his seventeenth year. I was aware that they were secretly armed. I kept my eyes on them, and determined to give them no advantage. I talked to them till it was evident that words were of no avail. After school one evening I visited a brush patch, secured a good switch and placed it convenient to my place in the court room. At an early hour the next morning the sixteen year old began, as usual, a disturbance. I spake to him, he replied, "Sir, I'll let you know I will do just as I please." I replied, "We will see." Taking my switch I walked to him, he rose and placed his right hand in his bosom. I halted at a proper distance and taking hold of my switch with both hands I let him have it with all the power I could summon. Soon his hand dropped from his bosom ​and he yelled pitifully. He was quiet till noon, when he gathered his books and left school. The ring leader was now gone, but the spirit of insubordination remained, and for some days that court room was a lively place; for if I could get along without whipping less than twenty-five a day it was a remarkably quiet day. Many concluded that that schoolroom was not a healthy place and left us; so, with the remainder we went through the session very pleasantly. One thing was now demonstrated; namely, a public school could be taught in that town. That, of course, made it an easier task for subsequent teachers.
As soon as our school term ended, we went to Macon county, and stopped with an uncle on our mother's side, Abner --------. After about two months we ---------------horse and went back to Unionville for some things we had left there. ---------------then building a brick court -----------------------spirit of enterprise seemed to be taking possession of the place. After that trip I saw Unionville no more till February, 189--. Being in those parts at that time we visited the town and made our home with Judge Shelton. The Judge laughed heartily when I asked him if he remembered that school. He told me that when he would hear me commence on the children he would go stealthily to the stairway, lie down on the floor and watch me till I would get through. I did not find but one of my students. One of the merchants of the place told me that he was one of my students. I was then on my way to West Grove, Iowa, to meet Elder Thompson, of Indiana, in debate. I regretted that probate court was then on hand in Unionville, otherwise the Judge would have gone with me and heard the debate.
Recently we held a meeting near the road that I traveled from Macon to Unionville. While there we lived a part of our boyhood days over, and many incidents came to mind. I suppose I was born a dyspeptic, and often suffered from indigestion, which made it necessary at times to keep medicine with me. Not far from where our recent meeting was held we remembered stopping over night at a farm house, when on our way from Unionville to Macon, after the expiration of our school term.
It was not night but it was raining very hard. The old gentleman said that he would not deny me shelter, but could not promise me anything to eat, for his wife was sick. I went in, and saw that the old lady was suffering. I asked the man if he was not going to do something for her. He said she had not been sick long, but if she did not get better soon he would have to do something. I told him I had some medicine with me I thought would do her good, that it had been a great benefit to me, and I knew it would do her no harm. The decision was that I should treat the case. I gave a dose and soon it vomited her severely. That was something I did not expect, and I began to wish that I had not stopped, for I thought may be I had given a medicine that my patient had no business taking. The old gentleman saw that I was alarmed, but said I need not be for that was just what she needed. That gave me relief, and soon my patient was easy and slept well all night. Next morning she got up and got us a good breakfast, and said she had not had any medicine to do her so much good for a long time. I had her to take another dose before breakfast. That paid for ​my night's lodging, and I was requested, if ever convenient, to stop with them again.
Another incident, but not so pleasant, came vividly to mind. That was then a sparsely settled country, and between Nineveh and Unionville there was a space where one traveled many miles without seeing a house. The time I made the trip to Unionville on horseback, on starting back to Macon I knew it would take till noon to reach the last house to pass before entering that uninhabited part, so I had decided to stop at that house, have my horse fed and get my dinner. A short turn in the road brought me within a few yards of the house, just then I heard a masculine voice, in a very angry tone cry, "You Sal." Just then a nice looking woman, with long, black, wavy hair came running out of the house, and a large, rough looking man after her. She got about half way across the yard when he caught her by the hair, jerked her down, and began to beat her. I thought, "I will not stand that." I reigned my horse in and was just in the act of dismounting, when, I suppose he discovered my presence. He straightened up and looked at me in a daring manner. Neither of us spoke but I sized him up. He was about twice my bulk. If I had been armed with David's sling and one of his pebbles I might have tried him a round. As it was, however, I thought, a boy has no business with you. I reigned my horse to the middle of the road, and without speaking rode on. I did without dinner. I was sorry for my horse, and I was sorry for that woman, and for that man. I thought, "Can it be that such have an offspring, or ever will have? What good could be expected of the offspring of such! Is it not from such that the inmates for our county and state prisons come?" I wished afterwards that I had pleasantly spoken to them, got the man to feed my horse, and the woman to prepare me some dinner, and then paid each well for what they did, and tried, without any reference to their domestic troubles, to give them a lesson on the subject of human kindness, and the law of love.
While in Unionville I determined to abandon the idea of going to California, and determined to study medicine, with the idea of being an M. D. With that in view I gave all my spare moments to that study. I often sought solitude, and even before the beginning of my complete orphanage, I was wont to visit the closet or secret grove, and implore the divine protection and guidance. After a deliberate weighing of the matter I concluded that the position of a physician would not suit me.
Having now all my effects in Macon county, and being undecided, as to a calling for life, and not wishing to be idle I hired to work in the saddle and harness shop in Bloomington, Missouri. I had not, however, been there but a few weeks when I determined to go to Texas. Some of my connection were preparing to go there, and some of them that were in Texas were writing and urging me to come there. All was in readiness to start, when, in spite of my inclinations, the conclusion was reached that the change would not suit me. I then applied for a district school near College Mound, Macon County, Mo. The school was given me without hesitation.
​William Burris, a well-to-do farmer, lived near the school house, and being well prepared to pleasantly keep me, I engaged board there. Mrs. Burris was one of those nice, pleasant, motherly women, such as it is pleasant to be with. My mother's brother, Captain Adam Vickery, of Tennessee, married her mother's sister so we felt somewhat akin, and my home there was very pleasant. Near the close of our term of school Mr. Burris proposed to put up a general furnishing store, furnish me half the means at six per cent per annum, and board me gratis if I would superintend the business, and we would be equal partners, for the space of five years.
I was now settled, spring opened, a union Sunday-school was started at Antioch meeting house. I was appointed superintendent. I had been for some time a pretty close student of the Bible, and determined that, to the best of my ability, the teaching of the one Book should be given that school. My faith had wavered as to the correctness of Baptist teaching, and soon I was ready to abandon that and take my stand in the pure teaching of Christ. There was a large congregation of disciples meeting at Antioch, but not keeping house strictly after the New Testament order. With these I had determined to take my stand. One Lord's day when Sunday-school had closed, E. H. Lawson, who lived near there, was present with an appointment to preach at eleven o'clock. We spake to him and made known our wish. After the close of his sermon I was received into the fellowship of that congregation.
I was now near twenty years old. I felt that I was free, and to be forever free from all human ecclesiasticisms. I wanted others to know what true soul-liberty was, to see the beauty and simplicity of God's arrangement in Christ. I wanted to tell people of him who was the way, the truth, and the life. I made an appointment at Antioch, thinking that, as I was a mere boy, none would come to hear me but the young folks. When, however, the hour arrived the house was full. Old men and women had come for miles to hear the boy's first effort.
I thought, may be, by the time I had read a lesson and offered prayer my embarrassment would, to some extent, be gone. In this I was disappointed, for when I faced that audience and saw all eyes fixed upon me, with evident anxiety to hear what I had to say, I knew I was in the pulpit, and I knew the purpose for which I had entered it, but what I had prepared for that occasion was gone, I knew not where. I aimed to tell them that the 15th, 16th and 17th verses of a certain chapter in Matthew would be my text, but told them that the 15th, 16th, and 17th chapters of Matthew was my text. I saw many of them smile, and supposed that they were laughing at my awkward appearance. I wished I had not made the appointment. I, however, talked about thirty minutes, asked the audience to bow with me in prayer and then dismissed them with the conclusion that I had better wait awhile before making another appointment. It was not, however, very long till I felt it to be my duty to make another appointment. Some were making an effort to implant soul sleeping in the congregation there, and I have, from my first acquaintance ​with that doctrine, ever considered that it undermines the very fundamentals of Christianity. Our second appointment was made for the purpose of speaking against that doctrine. We now began to feel that, perhaps, we had begun in the work for which we were designed.
For some months we did no talking publicly except what we did in the prayer-meeting and Sunday-school. I was not twenty years old. That fall we had the privilege of meeting with, and hearing A. Campbell preach. Mr. C. talked very flatteringly of us, and insisted on our taking a course at Bethany. This we promised, and determined to do. In this, however, we were disappointed, for we were unable to make the necessary arrangements. We then determined to settle for life.
Farming was by far our choice as a calling for life. As we expected to be a farmer we determined to select a truly domestic girl as a companion, one that would be a true help meet. I had been in Mr. Burris' family one year. His daughter, Mary, was one of my students during our term of school, during which we became intimate friends. As our acquaintance extended our affections grew, so on Lord's day evening, Nov. 13, 1859, by A. Vickrey, we were united in the holy bands of wedlock. If ever a boy felt the solemnity and importance of that change we did. When, a day or two before we started to our uncle's to engage his service for that occasion we wept and prayed till well in the road to his house. He met us at the yard gate and we went to the barn to put up our horse, he told me that he knew my business. I asked him how he knew it? He said he could read it in my expression. Another had pronounced one, in secret, and on my knees I poured out my soul in prayer to God. And if ever I prayed in earnest it was then.
Early the next spring, at my request, my sister came from Kentucky to make my house her home. We remained in the store till the latter part of that summer. Times were now becoming very close, and as I viewed it, we were making very little money merchandising. I proposed to Mr. Burris that if he would sell me a small farm that he owned in that neighborhood, take the goods and accounts, settle all business of the firm, pay me twelve dollars and a half per month for the time I had been in the store, and give me time to pay for the land I proposed to buy I would be a farmer. My proposition was accepted, and soon I was a granger.
Although I chilled for twelve months I cleared land and raised a good crop of tobacco, but an early frost ruined it. August 23 of that year our first baby was born. The next year the war began, and the tobacco crop was a failure. In 1862 times were very squally, and our crop was light. The people were now full of the war spirit, a spirit decidedly antagonistic to the spirit of Christianity. We canceled our trade with Mr. Burris for the land we bought and early in 1863 moved to Chariton Co., Mo. We now had two children, a girl and a boy, and we determined to own a home. We cultivated five acres of tobacco that year. When our neighbors learned that we were going to plant that amount they tried to dissuade us from it. Mrs. H. made a faithful hand, and we made a success.
​Early that spring the Antioch church licensed us to do the work of an evangelist, and we did considerable preaching in the vicinity of home. We then bought a forty acre tract of land in Macon Co., and the next two years we cultivated our five acres of tobacco, and during that time spread out somewhat as a preacher. We now determined to give our entire time to the work of an evangelist, and that we might be the better prepared, we determined to go to school. The Kirksville Normal had been established, and Professor Baldwin offered us inducements to move to that place. Our efforts to carry out our purpose were all thwarted, for the Lord had a schooling in reservation for us that we knew not of.