CHAPTER V.

A YEAR OF EXPERIMENT.

[1856-1857.]

THE Bible agency was only intended to occupy a couple of months. The advantage which he anticipated from it was an increased facility of converse with the world, knowledge of men, and knowledge of himself. The life which he had led had brought him very little into contact with persons holding religious views different from his own, or with persons in a different order of society; he had in fact seldom been thrown among strangers. If he was to be an efficient missionary, it was essential that he should learn, by practical experiment, how to deal with men; besides, the life which a student leads has a tendency to withdraw him from that sympathy with unintellectual people which is a requisite of successful ministry; many a theological student, brought face to face with a sleepy parish, has then to take his first lesson in the art of discovering men, a lesson which ends usually in the equally valuable discovery of his own strength and weakness. David had a special disability for such work as he undertook, in a shyness which made him retreat from the presence of a stranger; in a sensitive dread of contact with rudeness; in a stubborn, and somewhat surly moodiness, which, when on him, kept his mouth closed as if it were locked and the key thrown away; in an

unready speech, moreover, which want of practice had rendered still more broken and stammering. The work of peddling Bibles, accompanied with religious teaching, was as uncongenial as it well could be; it was, perhaps, the most violent method that he could have adopted for breaking through the crust of reserve which idiosyncrasies and student-life had formed over his nature. The Bible Society had contemplated a canvass of the entire country, in order to offer the Bible to every soul that could be reached; accordingly the separate districts were circumscribed. David's embraced Orange, New Jersey, and the villages lying near. How he managed to get through with the task, for such it ever was, will best be learned by the following chronicle, drawn up from his diary and letters of the time. His diary, as before intimated, never was anything but the briefest memorandum of daily doings, with occasional breaths of desire or regret; he had a repugnance to formal statements of religious feeling in it, believing that momentary sensations thus imprisoned were very unnatural, and very untruthful indications of religious progress. I have selected such entries in his diary, and such passages from his letters, as show the general course of his colportage:

Sep. 11. I am to proceed to Orange, and commence in the village on foot; when done with neighboring houses, to go to another town, say Bloomfield, and so on to several in the thickest parts; then take a horse and wagon, and go through the different outskirts. Here I am, and soon to be at work. I try to think as little about it as possible till I commence. How my arms will ache!

Sep. 13. Books came at nine o'clock. Worked two hours in morning, but almost every one is supplied.

Sep. 15. A very pleasant day indeed. Had a long talk with a shoemaker on English Catholicism. He quoted English history at a great rate. Must learn to present the gospel boldly. Be not ashamed of Christ and his word. Another had never had a Bible, and when I gave him one, let go his work and commenced reading just where he opened, and became so absorbed that he noticed me no longer. Such men I am to learn from.

Sep. 16. Talked a long time with a man who was a general unbeliever: hope with a right spirit. A Catholic shut the door in my face. I wonder that Catholics usually are so polite.

Sep. 17. Had a curious talk to-day with a man who professed to doubt the genuineness of the Scriptures. He paraded his learning at a great rate. Also talked about a half an hour with a Catholic woman, comparing Bibles, King James and Douay. 'Tis of no use whatever to combat their errors by argument, they are so wedded to them. How can we reach them but by long-continued, patient labor? Don't think I make a very efficient colporteur.

Sep. 19. A week already spent in Orange at work, and finished almost all of my work for first visit. Today have been in the worst hole of all, Reeves's Row: quantities of Irish huddled together. But I found them remarkably ready to receive Bibles, and I gave them about fifteen.

Sep. 25. Spent the day in Bloomfield: finished. What is the reason? I was told that I should visit

about forty families in a day, but to-day I have seen eighty: very little destitution.

Sep. 29. In Belleville. A man berated me soundly, but I laughed at him, and soon made him laugh himself. He was in good humor when I left, did n't think I was a bigot, and hoped that some day I would bring around Bibles for Bishop Bailey. I think it is wrong for distributors to throw tracts into a house, where they refuse to receive them; it only incenses them.

Sep. 30. Last day of September. Good-bye. Next month may I do some good. [He had an odd way, throughout his diary, of bidding good-bye to each month and year.]

Oct. 2. Have visited ninety-four families to-day in upper Belleville. Left Orange at 7.30 A. M. Walked to Bloomfield; took horse to Belleville, and worked till 12.30; got dinner for horse and self at a small farmer's; worked from 1.30 to 5.30 P. M., and ended with losing my way, so that I did not quite finish Belleville. Rode to Bloomfield, and walked and ran back to Orange.

Oct. 3. Worked in Belleville. Irish funeral made some confusion. One woman was "rather light in her head, and I'd better not be bothering her!"

Oct. 7. Every morning regularly I'm blue; toward dusk I grow happy, and when trotting home I hum tunes, interspersed pretty thickly with "Go 'long!" "Get up!" and think of all sorts of nice things, with a beautiful Orange sky right in front, and a happy circle in prospect. I feel good regularly in the evenings, and decidedly bad when I get up. I decided to-day that I

would read on Catholicism when at home, and take a tract district and talk. I meet many an intelligent Catholic. I meet too the most odd of remarks and arguments. I was talking with a woman to-day about our sins. "Yes," said she, "I'm a right bad Catholic, thank God!"

Oct. 10. I suppose I ought to leave a practical exhortation at every house, but most of mine are expended on my horse, and appear to have so much greater effect upon him than upon the human kind that I think of confining my remarks to him in future. I ask if they have a supply of Bibles? they say, "Oh yes, we have more Bibles than we make good use of." It strikes me that that phrase must have been in some shorter catechism, or an example in penmanship, — people know it so well. I am heartily tired and sick of hearing it. Once in a while I meet a poor family where I give a Bible, and try to say something, but it usually amounts to no more than a general remark of about as much significance as "Fine day to-day." You does n't figure enough in my talk. If success in the work is gauged by despatch and number of Bibles left, I have done pretty well. Yesterday I made a hundred and nine calls, working hard nine hours. This morning I met a nice old man, and had a real good chat. As I left he gave me his blessing and said: "Pray much. Look up, not down. Burn inwardly! Said Dr. Duff, 'A man of fire is worth three men frozen.' Mark that! A man of fire!""

Oct. 11. Coming home in P. M. met a little Polish boy, a peddler. Asked him if his basket was heavy. "'Tis n't that," said he, "but I haven't sold a cent's worth to-day, and have lost a dollar's worth." The poor