CHAPTER XIV.
Dr. Hopson as a Student. -As a Benevolent Man.-A Friend to Young Men.-Disliked Pastoral Visiting.-As a Husband.-His Punctuality.-A Proposition.-Its Results.-Practical Jokes.-As a Son.-His Patience as a Preacher.-Experiences in School-houses and in the Open Air.-The Boy and Cap.-What did Annoy Him.
A portion of this chapter is written for Bro. Graham, and for anybody else who is as curious as he. Bro. Graham says, in his letter to me "We all know how Bro. Hopson preaches, and his success as an evangelist, etc. We want to see his inner and domestic life-the virtues he displayed among his most intimate friends, more than the conquests made upon the world's great battlefield."
I do not think Bro. Graham would ask me to do anything improper, and I will tell a few tales out of school.
First, Dr. Hopson was a hard student up to the hour he was stricken with disease. He never preached a sermon until he had thoroughly digested it and made every part of it clear to himself, as he desired it to be to his audience. If I was with him, he would make me take the Bible, while he had the Concordance, and go over every passage containing any allusion to the matter under investigation. He always said a man did his hearers, as well as, himself, an injustice, who went into the pulpit unprepared. I have often heard persons ask
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him to preach on certain subjects. He always declined, unless he was familiar with the one in question.
During all his school years in Palmyra Seminary, he rarely retired before twelve o'clock, and not infrequently one o'clock in the morning. His Greek Testament was his constant study. He very rarely indulged in reading light literature. Shakespeare, Walter Scott and Irving were his favorite authors. Milton, Cowper and Young were his choice among the poets. His mind was exceedingly practical. I never knew him to indulge in speculative theories. He confined himself to bare facts.
I would often say to him, "Here is a beautiful and appropriate quotation," either in poetry or prose; "it would add to your sermon; put it in." It was rarely that I could prevail upon him to do it.
He was a man of unbounded sympathy. The stranger within his gates was made to feel as much at house as his dearest friend.
He was liberal in church matters, aiming to dedicate one-tenth of his income to religious and benevolent interests; but he often gave more. The poor were never turned from his door unaided, and many totally unworthy were helped, in order to induce them to lead better lives.
The sick were never neglected by him. He visited the house of mourning with a sympathetic heart, and did not grudge time or trouble when needed.
He was a devoted friend of the young men of his church. If he missed one from the Lord's day meeting, be would say to me, "Ella, such a young man was not at church to-day. If you are down town any time this week, drop into the store and tell him I want him to report to me. He may be sick. If he is, I must go to
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see him." Where they were doing business for themselves, he would visit them himself. Thus they felt that he loved them and watched for their souls.
Almost all pastors dislike what is usually termed pastoral visiting. He was more averse to it than any one I ever knew. He would often make half a dozen calls in a day. Sometimes four or five of the sisters would be from home, or if at home, would detain him from fifteen minutes to half an hour while arranging their toilet, and come into the parlor flushed and warm, and perhaps illy prepared to enjoy religious conversation. He never grudged the time he was visiting, but the time he was wasting in waiting.
As a husband he was remarkable. He never interfered in domestic affairs. I do not think he went to market a dozen times in all our housekeeping. When he did, he bought enough to last the family a week. All he asked was that the meals should be ready promptly. He was punctual, and required it of all his household. The servants were devoted to him, and as soon as they learned his will, gave no trouble on that score.
He wished me to be thoroughly posted in all his business matters-what his exact income was, and all his expenditures. He often said he believed if women only knew the financial condition of their husbands, they would be less extravagant. With salaried men this precaution is very necessary, especially so with preachers, who are not able at all times to command their salaries.
He never allowed me to be out of money. I do not think my purse was empty half a dozen times during his active ministerial life. One year he made me the proposition to give me a stated sum each month to dress myself on. He was very much surprised when I told him
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I would take twelve dollars and a half a month for that purpose; and the 1st of January paid the first installment, February 1 the second, and the third in March. The 1st of April he had occasion to go to the country after bank hours, and he came to me to get some money to pay toll with. I asked him how much he wanted. He said two dollars would do, if I had that much. I got my purse, and when he saw it he asked me how much I had. I emptied it, and when he counted out thirty-six dollars, he said, "Well, Ella, I don't see any use of our having separate purses." I did not, either; and so we divided the money between us, and I heard no more of a division of property.
He always gave me the wedding fees up to ten dollars, until our daughter came home from school and then we shared alike.
The Doctor rarely indulged in practical jokes, but sometimes the temptation was irresistible. Some three weeks after we were married, we were going out to Father Hayden's, and I saw a persimmon tree loaded with beautiful golden fruit. I had often heard of them, but never saw one before. I was anxious to know what: it was, and he was equally anxious for me to know. He selected a large, fine one, and insisted on my taking a good bite. I bit, and such a bite I never had before, nor have I ever had since. It drew and puckered my mouth until I could not utter a word. It squeezed the tears from my eyes. I really thought I must be poisoned-that perhaps the Doctor was tired of me already, and wanted to dispose of me in that abominable way. And I have never seen a persimmon since, that I do not feel a choking sensation and a desire to punish somebody.
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The Doctor was very sorry, of course, at the result, and begged my pardon, which I have never been fully persuaded that I have accorded yet.
To his mother he was a most devoted son, and his stepfather loved him as if he had been his own child. They spent the last years of their life in our hone, and Dr. Hopson paid them a stated salary every month to attend to our marketing and housekeeping. He said old people were prone to feel dependent, and the arrangement he made would make them feel comfortable and supply all their needs, and make then happier. He was always so thoughtful for others.
For many years much of his preaching was done in log school-houses, or log churches, or out of doors amid the "forest aisles," and I have often wondered at his patience and equanimity under the trying and embarrassing circumstances surrounding him. The neighing of horses, the barking of dogs, the crying of children, never seemed to irritate him.
He used to tell the mothers to come to church and bring their children, when they had no one to leave then with-that he could outpreach the crying of half a dozen babies; and I have often seen more than that lying on pillows around the pulpit, while the grateful mothers would sit with open ears listening to the "old, old story." Sometimes one or two babies would raise a tune, but they were soon hushed, and the Doctor would pay no attention except to elevate his voice a little until babydom was quiet.
I used sometimes to practice a little friendly ruse to help him out. I would carry my pocket full of cakes or some candy, and distribute it to the restless ones, and never failed to quiet the little fellows. Dear little babies
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and dear mothers, they have forgotten me long since, but they pass before me like pleasant pictures in the dreams of long ago. Very many of the mothers confessed Christ because they had the privilege of hearing of him unrebuked. To young preachers I would like to say just here, a mother's heart and a mother's love for her babes are very tender things, and while sometimes they may be thoughtless and inconsiderate in not placing themselves where they can withdraw from the house without causing annoyance, be patient, very patient, for their mortification is often much greater than your embarrassment can be.
How often have I blessed my noble husband for his gentle forbearance towards those dear mothers, who were so eager to hear him preach that they would ride miles on horseback, with their little ones in their laps. They were hungering and thirsting for the bread of life and the living water.
On one occasion Dr. Hopson was holding a meeting at Santa Fe. John Hall, a great friend of his, whose membership was at Lick Creek, was present, and was the happy father of a real live boy between three and four years of age. The Doctor was preaching in a storeroom, fitted up with rough seats and improvised chandelier and sconces. After the boy had listened patiently to the Doctor nearly an hour, he began to get restless, and spying the chandelier, he concluded to get up a little show on his own account. He had a nice, new cap, and he commenced tossing it up to see if he could throw it over the arm of the chandelier. The Doctor went on with the sermon. The boy's mother tried to stop the fun, but as soon as she turned to look at the preacher, up went the cap. Fortunately the Doctor had the ears of
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the congregation and no attention was paid to the boy. At last the cap hung fast in mid air, and the boy subsided. At that moment the Doctor made a gesture that knocked his hymn-book off the pulpit. Master Hall spied it, and jumped down and picked up the book, climbed on to a chair and upon the stand under the pulpit, and said in a loud voice, " Mr. Preacher, Mr. Preacher, here's your book." The Doctor looked at the little fellow with a smile, took the book and said "Thank you," and went on with his sermon as if nothing had ever happened to disturb him.
Some would say, "Why did not his mother take the child out, or do something to him?" To take a child out of a house packed with people, even standing room full, around windows and doors, was no easy matter, and would make more disturbance than his little frolic; and if she had done something else, there is no telling where the trouble might have ended. As it was, the little fellow was asleep in a few minutes, and the Doctor finished his hour and a half sermon without further interruption.
There was one thing that would always annoy the Doctor excessively: that was, for young people to laugh and talk or write notes to each other during service, either singing, praying or preaching, but this was, after all, more on account of the veneration he felt was due to worship than an offense against his personal vanity; yet during all his ministry I never heard him give more than eight or ten severe rebukes, but he would content himself by looking at the offenders a moment or two, preaching on, which usually quieted them.
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