The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-09-02
BEECHER "REMINISCENCES.
How Mrs. Beecher Tried to Check
Her Impetuous Husband.


How Mrs. Beecher Tried to Check
Her Impetuous Husband.
From the New York Sun.
The great preacher was always ready
for a joke, while Mrs. Beecher took
everything seriously. Speaking of his
first charge at Lawrencebury, Ind.
where his salary was $500 year, Mr..
Beecher said
I'VE were awful poor there. weren't
we mother?"
1--WE wight have been poorer, Harry"
said Mrs. Beecher, smoothing out her
apron.
Yes" continued Beecher, 1--WE were
so poor that it was hard to get food
to feed and wood to warm mother and
the babies"
"Henry! interrupted Mrs. Beecher,
with an upward infection.
Yes, we were so poor that / used
to have to catch floodwood out Of the
Ohio river. One day when was right
in the middle of a Sunday sermon, |
looked out of the window and saw the
floodwood going down. 1 remember how
l wanted to be out there catching that
wood"
What did you do?" / asked.
why, rushed that sermon through,
broke off the head of it, and dismissed
the congregation. Then called my
deacons back, and we went down to
the river and got out floodwood enough
to last me three months" And then
with laugh he glanced at Mrs. Beech
er and said: Didn't / mother?"
mo, Henry, you never did any such
thing" she said, biting her lips. How
absurd!'
"Did you stay in Lawrenceburg
long?" l asked.
"Oh, no. l soon had a six hundred
call to Indianapolis, and ] was glad to
go. Mother had just written a book
on the trials of a poor preacher, and it
was getting warm in Lawrenceburg
Mothers book was written so close to
life and was so personal that we had
to stop 1t, and I've always been afraid
that some publisher would dig it up
again.
I'm Indianapolis, continued Mr..
Beecher, "a grand thing happened to
me that gave me my first publicity. 1
was invited to preach the dedication
sermon for the First Congregational
church in Fort Wayne, and was to be
paid $25 for one sermon. This was an
unheard-of price for one talk at that
time and it got into the newspapers.
Even editorials were written about it,
Then, of course. all the papers printed
the sermon-this twenty-five dollar
sermon-and 1 was proud man.
II rode on horseback from Indian
apolis," continued Mr.. Beecher, land
wore so many holes in the seat of my
homespun clothes that I was afraid to
go back and let mother
Henry" interrupted Mrs. Beecher,
concealing a smile.
well" continued Beecher, "I had so
much money that / concluded to ride
my horse on up to Toledo and take a
boat to Buffalo and the canal to New
York. l wanted to attend the great
Presbyterian convention. Well, / got
there and was a lion, but my money
was gone.
"'Oh,' I said, how shall I face
mother when 1 get home!' / was ap-
palled at my own extravaganza"
"How did you get out of IT," ask
ed.
well, I borrowed some money of
a young preacher named Storrs-he's
DIR. Storrs now and then went to
DR.. Prime of the Observer and told
him my trouble. DR.. Prime didn't
have any money to lend. Then offer
ed to write letters at dollar a week,
giving all the church news from the
west, to be published in the Observer
if Prime would lend me money enough
to get home. You know they have
paid me $500 a column for such stuff
lately?"
Did you ever really write newspaper
letters for a dollar a piece?" 1 asked.
We'll, I'll tell you about it," said
Mr.. Beecher, his eyes twinkling with
fun. ,."You see l wanted to write them
but Prime said he would consider it
over night after consulting with his
wife"
"Of course Prime accepted your Of
fer?" 1 suggested.
mo, he came back the next day."
said Beecher while a smile stole over
his face, land said he had given the
proposition prayerful thought and had
come to the conclusion that they
wouldn't be worth it."
One day when I called, Beecher was
bantering Bayard Taylor. "Bayard,"
he said, II wish you would give up
writing poetry and stick to lecturing
and writing about your travels. Your
poetry will never make you famous"
II think differently" said Taylor.
Il know l can write good poetry. At
any rate, / would rather be a third
class poet than first class lecturer"
well, said Beecher, "you ought to
be happy then-yOu're bothw