The Kentucky Ranger | Page 5

Edward T. Curnick
fold.
Having opened the wounds of sin, he poured into them the cordial of
gospel grace. He dwelt upon the words, "abundantly pardon," showing
how God had planned to put away sin by the gift of his Son and had
promised forgiveness to all guilty mortals who with hearty repentance
and true faith looked to Christ for salvation.
As he exalted the world's Redeemer from one plane to another his soul
was lifted up with indescribable joy and exultation. His voice and form
were in attune with his soul. We have read that this man's voice could
be heard a mile, and on this occasion it surely reached to the utmost
bounds of that great assembly. Extending his arms, as though he would
enfold the multitude and present them to the Savior, he besought
sinners to flee from impending wrath, to come to the altar and be saved
from sin so that they might "read their titles clear to mansions in the
skies."
The effect was tremendous. At once a rush was made for the mourners'
bench and it was soon filled. Many were stricken where they sat in the
congregation and fell on their knees imploring mercy. Around the
mourners gathered the saints of God, counseling, advising, quoting

suitable passages of Scripture, praying with the penitents. When the
meeting finally closed long after the dinner hour, scores professed
conversion, and a great victory for morality and religion in Kentucky
had been won.
CHAPTER III.
Swapping Stories.
The ministers were in the preachers' room on the afternoon of this camp
meeting day. They were scattered about in delightful abandon. Some
had thrown themselves on rough cots; others were lounging on rude
benches which served as seats; the few plain chairs which the place
boasted were also occupied. Most of the men were regaling themselves
with the fragrant Kentucky tobacco, and the blue smoke ascended in
widening spirals to the rafters above. They felt they must unbend after
the severe mental tension of the morning.
What a fine spirit of comradeship is found among a group of preachers
of one heart and mind. Can anything on earth surpass it? Here we find
the hearty handshake, the contagious laugh, faces bright with smiles, a
free flow of talk. We see hilarity without vulgarity, wit that sparkles,
but does not burn, as when a bright sally directed at some brother's
foibles is met with a quick repartee. We listen to anecdotes which cheer
and enliven the senses without hurting the conscience or debasing the
mind.
"Brother Larkin, give us a bit of wit or philosophy from 'Poor Richard'
or tell us one of your good anecdotes."
The man addressed was John Larkin. He was about thirty-five years old
and was known as the "square man" both as to body and mind. His
head seemed more square than round, and was set upon a strong neck
which rested upon square shoulders. From shoulders to the ground he
was in the form of a parallelogram. His hands were wide and short, the
fingers being of nearly equal length, giving the hands a blunt, square
appearance. His gray eyes were wide apart, having a sly and merry cast
in them, while crow lines in their corners gave them a laughing

expression. His firm mouth and square chin showed that he could
mingle seriousness with mirth. He was considerably under the average
height, but thickset and strong.
John Larkin was of New England descent. When a small boy he had
moved with his parents from "'way down East" to far-famed Kentucky.
There he helped his father clear the wilderness and make a comfortable
home. At twenty-three years of age he was powerfully converted, and
soon after became a traveling preacher.
John had stored his mind with the homely proverbs of Benjamin
Franklin and many bright sayings of other writers. He saw the ludicrous
side of things and was fond of telling anecdotes. Hence the request
which a brother minister made of him.
"About two months ago," said Larkin, "I had an appointment to preach
in a private house. The boys of the family had a pet sheep which they
had taught to butt. Going near him, they would make motions with their
heads, and the sheep would back out and dart forward at the boys; but
they would jump aside and so escape. A drunken man came into the
congregation and sat on the end of a bench near the door. He had
caroused the whole night before and presently began to nod. As he
nodded and bent forward, the sheep came along by the door and seeing
the man moving his head up and down, took it as a banter and backed
and then sprang forward, and gave the sleeper a severe jolt right on the
head, and
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