CHAPTER TWO
In the spring after father's passing away in the fall, we had a very sad experience. Before father had taken sick, he was having a well drilled. They had drilled down fifty-five feet and struck rock. Father took sick and was in bed when the man that was drilling the well returned with a churn drill, but the churning and noise seemed to bother my father. So the man moved his rig to another place after having put twelve-inch tile in the hole they had drilled. He promised to come back later to finish it. The well was safely covered.
In the spring, in May, he returned to see if the well had any water, but the hole was dry. He left it uncovered.
My baby sister, now two years old, would often go to the barn to play in the hallway and in the cob bin. A neighbor woman came to see my mother about some sewing that day. My sister had been asleep. Upon waking, Mother played with her a few moments, then went about her work. Soon she heard my sister crying. Mother, thinking she was in the barn, hurried there only to find the cries were behind her and coming from the well. Sister had fallen into it. There were no phones in our neighborhood in those days. My older sister got out of bed, dressed, and crawled one-half mile to tell my oldest brother. My brother Albert, who was sick in bed, arose and staggered down the road to tell neighbors. As he came in sight of the schoolhouse, I saw him staggering and reeling. I ran to meet him and he told me what had happened. I ran from house to house to get help.
One man made a hook and took a small rope and let it down. My little sister took hold of the rope and they pulled her up to within a few feet of the top, then her little hands gave way and she slid back to the bottom. This was repeated several times.
As others gathered, someone told her to hook the hook in the band of her waistline, but she could not as her hands were up. Another said, "This hook is dangerous. We should dig her out." So men went to work and dug furiously and fast. A windlass was needed. There was one four miles away and it was soon brought. But about 8:00 that evening my sister's breathing became heavy, and then silent. She had asked us ever so many times to help her while she was breathing her last.
We heard horses' hoofs beating the ground as they came running up the road. A man had heard about it and brought a special spotlight, the first one we had ever seen. He had borrowed it from a policeman. They flashed the light down the now much shallower well, only about twenty or twenty-five feet, let the hook and rope down, hooked it in her dress, and brought her little lifeless body out of that dark hole. The doctor was there and pronounced her dead.
I know now that it was God who spoke to me about two hours before this. I was running for help when something said, "Your sister will die." I told my mother. We laid our little sister away beside our father in the country graveyard. The shock and strain almost took my precious mother. She was in peril of life for two years.
We children worked hard to make a living. We older boys would work in the timber, then my brother older than I would haul the timber that we had prepared to the mines and get part cash, the rest being traded in for groceries. This kept me out of school much of the time.
Finally, we sold the little farm that was home and, listening to poor counsel, rented a large farm. We boys were not used to farming on a large scale. We worked hard, very hard, but with floods and too much rain, crops were small. In two years we were $1800 in debt. We moved from there and my oldest brother and I tended 120 acres with horses. The place was sold, and we had to move again. There was a drought and we went in debt again.
The year that I was 14, I hired out to a farmer for $20 a month. While there I received my first call of God.
One night I had a dream. I dreamed that I died and went to heaven. I saw my father and little sister at a distance. I cannot describe heaven nor its atmosphere; it is beyond words. While there I saw the fruits of every kind for the saints, but there was no place for me. I saw Jesus. He was standing, and as I approached Him, I knew him. He looked so tenderly at me, and said, "Pearl, what are you doing up here?" I answered, "Lord, I have died and come here to spend eternity." He looked so sad and said, "You didn't prepare to come here. There is no place for you." I said, "Lord, I will work for you. I will do anything to get to stay here." Jesus said, "The time to work for Me was on earth while in that life. There is nothing anyone can do after death to stay here. Depart from Me into hell fire."
I started falling. I thought, as I fell, If ever I light on earth, I will serve the Lord. But to my horror and fright, I saw myself falling, head first, into hell. I could hear the shrieks and screams of the lost. I was near to the fire when I awoke. I got out of bed and promised God that I would join the church the first chance I had. The next morning when I got up, the woman, where I was working, asked what was the matter; I was so pale. I told her my vision or dream.
That fall they had a protracted meeting in the Christian church. After a few nights, they asked for those who wanted to accept Jesus to come forward. I went forward with some others. The preacher asked me if I believed Jesus was the Son of God. I answered, Yes. Will you accept Him as your Savior? I said, I will. I went home that night and told my mother that I had accepted Christ as my Savior. She did not encourage or discourage me. I was baptized in a little while after and then smoked the first cigarette I had ever smoked.
I had gotten in the habit of using profanity. The next day after being baptized I went hunting with a boy. I said to him, "If you hear me cursing, tell me about it, for I am a Christian and don't want to do those things." After he had rebuked me several times, he became angry and said, "You don't have a bit more religion than I have, and if you profess, you are a hypocrite." I felt awfully bad, but he had told me the truth and made me think.
About a week later, I was coming from the Methodist church. All summer I had been walking five miles to Sunday school and then staying for church. This night on my way home, God moved me to a deep sorrow for sin. I realized that I was lost. My churchanity was not working. I kneeled down by a stump, turned my face toward heaven, put both arms up, and asked God to have mercy on me and forgive me. I promised Him that I would live for Him. Oh, the joy and the peace that flooded my soul! I knew I had been forgiven. I was not bothered about using profanity nor cigarettes. I ran the rest of the way home, and as I came in, I went to mother's room and said, "Mother, I am saved and know it." She said, "Praise the Lord."
About a week after I was saved, I was thinking of what I would be when I became a man. My ambitions were to be a carpenter, or a railroad engineer. But as plain as I ever heard anything, God said, "I want you to preach the gospel." Oh, I thought, I cannot. I have no education and I must help support my mother and the rest of the family. Right there I grieved the blessed Holy Spirit and for ten years I went without God.
Many, many times I have wished that I had answered the call at that time. But He, the blessed Holy Spirit, was grieved and I was without His guidance through my teens. I was making life's decisions without the leadings of God. Oh, how sorry I have been because I said I couldn't. Right when I needed the Holy Ghost so badly to lead me through life's untried path, decisions were made that will never be forgotten and, oh, the heartaches they have brought. Besides, I seemed to be a leader among the young folk and I might have been able to have led many of them to Christ.
I married before I was twenty. I was restless and had taken up the tobacco habit and was using profanity again. I quit going to church. I would not stay long in a place, but would always tell the men my dream. However, I never told anyone I had received a call to preach.
During this time I had a brother-in-law, my sister's husband, and we loved each other. He took sick and, after some weeks of sickness, I asked the doctor his condition. He told me that my brother-in-law could not get well. He told me the nature of the sickness -- T. B. of the lungs and bowels -- and said that he could not live long. I went to see him. At once I sat by his bed, and said, "Buddy, how are you?" He said, "I am better. I believe I will be up in a little while." I then told him what the doctor had told me. I did not want to see him die unsaved. I preached my first sermon though I was a backslider and I knew I was in sin. I told him how to repent and what to do; I quoted Scriptures to him and left him in the hands of the Lord.
A couple of days later, I returned to see him, and asked how he was making out in getting saved. I met a broad smile and here are his words, "Buddy, I did what you told me and Jesus has come. I am saved; oh, I am so happy. I was sprinkled yesterday after I was saved. It was the nearest to baptism that I could meet in my condition." Right here I want to praise my wonderful Lord for my first convert. Then my brother-in-law said to me, "You are the first person in my life that ever talked to me about getting right with God. Now Buddy, I want you to give your heart to God and do what you told me to do." I promised I would, but neglected. He passed away praising the Lord and shouting.
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