THE FOGY DAYS AND NOW ; 161 



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agony of early manhood, my disappointment in love ; had 

 passed through an unusual share of the ups and clowns of life, 

 made bad speculalions, been dead broke, but in the whole cat- 

 egory of my tribulations, I could think of nothing so embar- 

 rassing as this — for me to preach to four thousand peoi)le, and 

 me not a preacher. There seemed no way out of it but con- 

 fusion and absolute disgrace. To preach to a camp meeting, 

 and already scared most to death ! My heart thumped against 

 my side, my legs were all in a tremble, and I felt a great weak 

 strain down my back bone. Time was passing, and the crisis 

 approaching. An old saying flashed across my mind, that a 

 cornered rat will fight a cat. Then I thought of old Preacher 

 Dan nelly of South Carolina, the most self-possessed and confi- 

 dent U)oking man I ever saw, except Sam Jones. I perused 

 the pkick of both of these men, and it helped me. I knew 

 something ''had to be did," and concluded that the best way 

 out of the ordeal was to wade right through the fire. 1 

 resolved to try it; reached up got a hymn book, selected a 

 number and turned down the leaf, listened attentively to the 

 sermon, and marked in my memory some of the principal 

 points. After a time the preacher finished, and turning to me? 

 waved his hand to the front. I arose as deliberately as my 

 shaky legs and yielding back would allow, and leaning with 

 my right arm on the book-board, the book in my left hand, and 

 for a moment surveyed the sea of heads around me, then pro- 

 ceeded to line out the song. When finished, all excitement 

 had vanished, and I entered the skirmish line without a single 

 feeling of my former terror. I complimented the able sermon 

 of the preacher, commented upon the unanswerable ))oints of 

 his argument, extenuated upon the great truths advanced by 

 him to the dying sinner, and closed my ten mnutes talk, with 



