Life of Rev. James K. P. Newton
A Brief Sketch of the Life of
Rev. James K. P. Newton
Born September 26 th 1843
Died November 10 1898
I shall begin this brief
sketch
of my life by giving some account of my ancestry.
My grandfather, the Rev. Thomas Newton, was for more than fifty years a
minister
of the gospel in the Presbyterian Church. I do not know where he was
born, nor where
he was educated, but so far as I have been able to learn, his entire
ministry was spent
in the states of Georgia and Alabama. He died in the latter state in
St. Clair County,
the 26th of October, 1843. My grandmother's maiden name was Anne
Martin. She
was born in Ireland
and came to America when she was quite young. She lived to a
good old age and after having reared ten children, seven sons and three
daughters, her
mind lost its balance and she died by her own hands in the month of
August, about
1832 or 1833.
My father's name was James
Newton. He was born in the state of Georgia, Nov.
15th, 1798, and died near New Albany in Union County, Miss., Nov. 13th,
1851,
lacking two days of being 53 years old. He was tall and slender, had
very black hair,
a high and prominent fore head, and piercing brown eyes. He was always
moral and
upright in his life, but did not make a public profession of faith in
Christ and unite
with the church until three or four years before his death. I can
recollect him very
well, being a
little past 8 years old when he died. He was the first person I ever
saw
die, and it made a very pro found impression on my mind. I well
remember the bitter
anguish of my mother and of my elder brothers and sisters. There was no
outburst of
weeping, but a quiet, subdued and bitter sorrow. The awful stillness
and solemnity of
that moment can never be effaced from my mind.
My mother's maiden name was Mary Walker. She was a daughter of Charles
and
Elizabeth Walker. She was born in Chester district, South Carolina, in
the month of
April, 1808, and died in Union County, Miss., July 9th, 1883, in the
76th year of her
age. She and my father married the 4th day of February, 1830. Ten
children, six sons
and four daughters, were born unto them. All these lived to years of
maturity, but are
all now dead except myself and one brother. They are all sleeping side
by side in the
family grave yard
awaiting the resurrection of the dead. Six of them died in the house
where they were reared, and received in their last moments the kind
attentions of a
loving mother and dear friends, one died near home and another far away
among
strangers. Only three of them had made an open profession of faith in
Christ and
united with the church, but I can not but hope that God by His Spirit
led them all to
the Savior before they died and that I shall yet meet them all in
heaven. I shall now
proceed to give some account of myself: My life has not been
altogether uneventful, and some things in it may be instructive to
others. I was born
in St. Clair County, Ala., Sept. 26th, 1843. When I was a little more
than a year old,
my father sold out his farm and moved to North Mississippi, settling
near New
Albany, in Union County. There I was raised to manhood. The country at
first was
thinly settled, and possessed very few facilities for culture and
refinement. There were
no churches in the
immediate neighborhood, and but few school houses scattered over
a large district of country, and these were of the most primitive kind,
being log cabins
covered with long boards rived from the huge forest oaks. There was
commonly just
one door at the side of the building, a large fireplace at the end with
a "stick and dirt"
chimney. There were no windows for the ad mission of light, and "the
cracks" were
closed by means of clap boards. The benches were made of large logs
split in the
middle, the "feet" or "legs" being inserted on the round side. On these
rude benches
the pupils were seated, crowding as many as possible together. Over
this embryonic
seminary the sturdy old pedagogue, with switch or ferale in hand,
presided with as
much dignity as a college professor.
To just such a school as this I was sent for several sessions being
accompanied by
some of my older brothers and sisters. I made reasonably good progress
in spelling,
reading, writing and arithmetic. Our teachers at that early day did not
give instruction
in any higher branches. As time passed away there was some improvement
in the
qualifications of those called to handle the "birch," and there very
soon appeared a
succession of pedagogues whose superior learning in geography, English
grammar,
algebra and Latin
made them look with scorn on the attainments of their humble
predecessors. They began to introduce new methods of teaching, and
under their
tuition my mind commenced unfolding, and I very soon possessed a
genuine love for
learning, and was inspired with the noble ambition to be a good
scholar. I studied
faithfully at school, and when there was no school, I put in every
spare hour in
reading and study. I laid the foundation of ray knowledge of
both the English and
Latin grammars as I followed the plow. I would often carry my textbook
to the field
and there as I worked I grounded the leading principles of these
grammars in my
mind. I have many times wept because I could not go to school as many
other boys
were going. The thought that I had no father to send me to school, as
the other boys
had, would at times almost break my heart, and I then thought that my
lot was indeed
a hard, bitter one. Thus matters went on until the breaking out of the
great civil war
in 1861. The whole country was speedily thrown into great commotion.
War was the
all absorbing topic. Excitement ran exceedingly high. Fathers and
mothers gave up
their sons, and wives yielded up their husbands as willing victims to
be sacrificed
upon the altar of their country.
In the autumn of this year our family was very sorely bereaved. My two
brothers
older than myself had joined the Confederate Army. One of them was
serving in
Virginia and the other in Tennessee. They both sickened and died, the
one on the 25th
of October and the other one the 26th. We buried them both side by side
in the same
grave.
It was a great and a very sore bereavement. My mother was almost borne
down by this sudden and overwhelming affliction, but I never heard her
murmur or
complain. It was a subdued and chastened sorrow which was borne in
meekness and
faith. She seemed to regret most of all that she was not permitted to
bestow upon the
one of these Sons her kind and loving attentions in his last hours upon
earth. The
thought that he died away from home and among strangers, where there
were no
friends to speak to him cheering words, and no loving hands to minister
to his last
wants, and no eager, listful ears to catch his faint, dying words,
seemed always to give
her peculiar anguish of spirit. Strange to say it, but as I thought on
our loss, my
martial spirit became stirred within me, and I longed at once to hasten
into the army
that I might avenge their death. Against this wicked and reckless
impulse, my mother
interposed her own authority and said I must stay at home for a while,
at least.
The next spring there was another call for troops and I resolved at all
hazards to
go into the army. Accordingly I joined a company which was raised in
our
neighborhood by Capt. Moses McCasley, and on the 11th day of May, 1862,
I bade
good bye to all who were dear to me on earth, and started to Holly
Springs, the
appointed place of rendezvous. Our company of 109 men was placed in the
10th
Regiment of
Mississippi Infantry under the command of Col. T. W. Harris. In a few
days we were ordered to Corinth. Here there were two great armies
confronting each
other in daily expectation of an engagement. It was here that I saw for
the last time
Col. John H. Miller, who was a Presbyterian minister and a gallant
soldier. I had
known him in my childhood and from his warm attentions to little
children, he had
won my childish love. I met him just where the two railroads cross in
Corinth. He
talked to me in a very kind arid tender manner, telling me how to
conduct myself, and
impressing upon me the importance of becoming a Christian. He was
captured and
killed before the war closed. I have always held him in an affectionate
remembrance,
and I trust that his last advice to me was not given in vain.
About the 20th of June our army evacuated Corinth and retired to
Tupelo. On the
retreat I was stricken down with a raging fever. I succeeded in
reaching home two
days afterward, and I was confined to my bed for more than forty days
before I was
able to sit up. I recovered very slowly and the following Christmas I
was captured by
a raid of Yankees and was carried to Holly Springs, where after a short
imprisonment
I was paroled and permitted to return home. In the month of April,
1863, the Federals
under command of Gen. Ginson made a raid through Mississippi. They made
a halt
at our home and robbed us of all we had in the way of provisions. The
next day I tore
up my parole arid set out to join Forrest's Cavalry. Our Battalion was
consolidated
with the 15th Regiment of Tennessee Cavalry. With this regiment I
served until the
1st of March, 1865, when I was transferred to the 2nd Mississippi
Cavalry. I was with
Gen. Forrest in all his campaigns in Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee
and Kentucky.
I was engaged in
numerous battles and skirmishes and ran several hair breadth
escapes. At Yazoo City I would have been killed by a minnie ball had it
not been for
a sharp board around which I was peering at the enemy. A ball fired by
one of their
sharpshooters struck the board just in front of my eyes and glanced to
one side. At
Selma, Ala., the last fight in which I was engaged, I received a wound
in the left side
which would certainly have proved fatal had it not been for the
circumstance that just
as the shot was fired I turned slightly around, and it glanced upon my
side, passing
along about four inches under the skin but hot entering the abdominal
cavity. I have
ever since been perfectly satisfied that had I not turned just at the
moment I did, I
would have been killed. On the Obion River in Tennessee, being with a
scouting
party of 80 men, we were suddenly hemmed in a horseshoe bend by 150
mounted
Yankee Cavalry. They killed and captured 32 of our men. I escaped
unhurt under a
shower of leaden bullets. That night myself and two other of our men,
being entirely
cut off from our scattered company, fell into the hands of a party of
Tories. We
resorted to strategy to make our escape. Myself and one of the others
succeeded, but
poor George Benson was never more heard from. The next day we rejoined
our
scouting party, and in less than a week we were again surprised and
this time 17 of
our men were killed and captured. When I mounted my horse the Yankees were in ten
paces of me, and with their guns leveled upon me, they commanded me to
surrender.
I at once used spurs and sped away like an arrow, closely pursued by
the enemy's
advance, who hurled after me their leaden missiles and horrid
imprecations. Their
pursuit was all in vain, for I quickly eluded them and put myself out
of all reach of
dan ger. In all of these hairbreadth escapes, and others that I could
narrate, I clearly
recognize an overruling Providence, and I feel that this same good Providence has
followed me at every step in life.
The battle of Selma was fought just before sundown on Sabbath the 2nd
day of
April, 1865. Our brigade had been dismounted and stationed along the
breastworks
north of the city. The Yankees here massed their forces and made a
spirited charge
and carried our works at the first outset. The result was a general
stampede. I had
gone about half a mile when I received the wound alluded to above. I
mounted the
third horse before I succeeded in getting beyond the reach of the
enemy's fire. I then
swam a small creek,
and having bled profusely, a chill came on, followed by a high
fever, and I there for the first time in life realized that I did not
fully know what I was
about. Night came on and I, or rather my horse, kept the main road.
Straggling bands
of soldiers would occasionally pass me. My thirst was intolerable and I
distinctly
recollect dismounting three or four times to drink water in the road
where there was
nothing but a sand bed. Some time during the night I stopped, hitched
my horse, lay
down and fell into a
profound sleep. When I awoke the sun was at least an hour high.
I mounted and pursued my course, feeling greatly refreshed and being
perfectly at
myself. By 12 o'clock I arrived at Autangaville, 40 miles from Selma.
There I found
one of my company, Tap Patterson. We traveled on together until late in
the evening
my fever returned and it was soon apparent to my comrade that I was
again "beside
myself." The same thing occurred the next evening and I told Tap that I
would travel
no farther. We then
tried to find a place for me to stay, but did not succeed until the
next day. I was lodged in the family of a Mr. Lee near Kingston. Tap
left me there and
it was a very sad parting to me, for I expected to die. I told Mr. Lee
where I lived and
gave him my mother's name and ad dress so that he could write to her in
case I should
die. I lay there eight days and knew but little that passed in that
time. I was kindly
treated and had the attention of a physician. The ninth day I left
there, being unable
to mount to my saddle from the ground. Mr. Lee entered his protest
against my
starting, but I was determined to make a trial of strength. I rode 40 miles that day and
swam the Cahawba River. A little after sunset, I appeared before the
gate of a wealthy
farmer. I thought my wretched plight would commend me to the sympathy
of any
human being, but in this I found myself sadly mis taken. I made a call
at the gate, to
which a gentleman, or I should rather say a something in human form,
responded. I
asked him if I could stay with him during the night. He said no. I told
him if he would
give me a few bites to eat and something for my horse I would lie under the trees. He
said he did not want me to stay about him. I then told him that I had
been sick, that
I was unacquainted with the country and roads, that night was rapidly
corning on and
that I was very tired. His reply to this was: "I can't help that, Sir,
but you just can't
stay about my house." I left him without another word and rode three
miles before I
came to a house where I was very kindly entertained. In four days from
that time I
overtook the shattered remains of our brigade near Macon, Mississippi. We were all
furloughed ten days to go home and procure horses and clothing. Before
the
expiration of this time our armies surrendered, and thus ended my
service in the
Confederate cause.
This is not the place for me to ventilate my views of the origin of the
war nor to
vindicate the honor of those who fought and fell in that mighty
conflict. Fair history
will yet do this, and posterity will do justice to the memory of the
valiant dead. It is
enough for me to say that the South believed that she was engaged in a
holy cause and
that it was a mighty struggle on her part to maintain the freedom of
thought and
action which was bequeathed to her by Revolutionary sires. Believing
this and being
unable to peacefully avert the dangers which threatened her, she
appealed to the
arbitrament of the sword, and the cause was decided against her. She
staked
everything upon the final issue and lost everything save the honor of
her sons and the
virtue of her daughters. After a four-year war, entailing upon her
people incredible
hardships and sufferings, she was forced to yield to overwhelming
numbers and
superior resources, and whether right or wrong, she has left to
posterity an example
of patriotic heroism which must compel the admiration of all succeeding
ages.
Twenty years have now nearly passed away since the conflict closed.
Many wounds
then made have not been entirely healed, and many losses incurred have
not been, and
never can be repaid, but much of the rancor of passion and the
bitterness of feeling
have passed away. The people North and South are being drawn together
in true
friendship, and mutual confidence between the two great sections is
being fast re
stored, and all the indications are favorable to future prosperity and
national
greatness.
I wish now to turn back and present a different phase of my life--the
moral or
religious side. As far back as I can recollect I sometimes had serious
thoughts of
death and eternity. When about five years of age I had a little cousin
whom I loved
with all my child ish affection. He and I were both smitted with
scarlet fever, and in
a few days little Johny died. I recollect seeing my mother place him in
his little coffin
and fold his winding sheet close around his lifeless body. He was then
carried to a
lonely spot, and was
buried under the spreading branches of a forest oak. I loved to
think about him and talk about him to my mother. She would tell me that
his body
was only dead, and that his spirit had gone to heaven. I often wondered
how he
looked there, and whether he could play and talk there as he was wont
to play and talk
with me here. I often wished that I could go to heaven too, and see all
the little
children there and hear their songs of praise. From this time on my
thoughts were
frequently set on heaven. I thought it would be a delightful place and
I wanted to be
a good boy and go there. One day when out at play with a little sister
and brother, the
thought came into my mind all at once that I would like to be a
preacher. I know not
whence came this thought nor whence arose this desire, but it was
there. I told them
of my de sire, and we hastily constructed a rude pulpit of some boards.
I arose and
began trying to talk to them of heaven, but my feelings overcame me and
I sobbed
and wept aloud. My little auditors, one older and one younger than
myself, seemed
seriously impressed. To me even at this day, that is one of the
sweetest recollections
of my past life. I verily believe that God was with us at that moment,
and that His
holy spirit was moving upon our hearts. Who can say that the call to
the ministry was
not then addressed to me as it was to Samuel of old when a little
child? Not long after
this my eldest brother, who was in his 20th year, sickened and died,
and then in just
one month and two days after this sad event, my father
was taken away from us. My
thoughts were again turned to heaven afresh. My religious instruction
now devolved
entirely upon my mother. She seemed deeply sensible to the solemn
responsibility
that rested upon her. She was careful to have us attend church and
Sabbath school as
opportunity offered. She was rigid in the regulations of her household
on the Sabbath.
We were required to read with her in the Scriptures, and memorize and
recite portions
of the Shorter Catechism every Sabbath. When I was 12 years old, I
could stand with
closed book, and without any prompting, ask and answer in regular order
every
question in that Catechism. Thus matters went on, my mind alternating
from deep
seriousness to comparative indifference. When about 15 years of age, a
protracted
meeting was conducted by the Methodists in our church at New Albany. At
the
earnest solicitation of my mother, I attended this meeting, though at
first it was
somewhat against my inclination to do so. My heart was affected by the earnest
appeals which were made to the unconverted, and when the "mourners," as
they
called them, were invited to come forward and "kneel down at the
altar," I felt that
I ought to go, but the fear of being laughed at by some of my
associates prevented my
doing so. On leaving the church I felt many compunctions of conscience
for this piece
of moral cowardice, and I resolved that I would go forward the next
opportunity. The
next night this opportunity was afforded and I went to the "mourner's
bench" for the
first time. I left the church with a conscience somewhat eased, simply
because I felt
that I had done something in the way of effecting my salvation. Here
lay my great
danger, but I was not then aware of it. The meeting continued for
several days and I
attended to the close. I continued going to the "mourner's bench."
There was a good
deal of talking to the "mourners" by the brethren and sisters, but
there was not one
word of positive instruction given as to how they were
to be saved. Everything tended
to build up self-righteous hopes in the minds of the anxious inquirers.
I wish just here
to leave it on record that after a good many years of study and
reflection and some
experience in dealing with anxious ones, it is my solemn conviction
that much
positive injury may be done, and especially to the young, by the
unscriptural methods
in the conduct of a meeting. I know that I was for years misled by
them. Man is
naturally proud and self righteous. He craves to do something which
shall at least
help to merit salvation. This is the one point to be carefully guarding
in dealing with
every inquirer. He must not be allowed to trust at all in anything he
can do, but he
must be required simply to receive salvation by faith as the free gift
of God. At this
point I blundered for a long time. I failed to see clearly that
salvation rested upon the
ground of what Christ had done for us, and not upon what we could do
for ourselves.
Somehow I felt that He had done a part only and left the rest for me to
do, and that
what He had done would be of no avail unless supplemented by my doing
something.
I thus looked at Him as a half Savior only. I did not see that He had
done it all for me,
and that what was required of me was the simple reception of a gift. I
constantly
placed my DOING ABOVE and BEFORE, a simple trust in Christ. I had not
then
learned in its true sense that Christ is the one solitary object of
faith, and that the very
moment we associated any other object with Him as any ground of trust
or
confidence, we lost our hold of Him entirely. Or, perhaps it would be
better to express
the same thought in a different form of words. If we seek to lay hold
of Christ with
one hand, and some other abject with the other hand, He will not take
hold of us at
all, and thus we will be left to our own feeble grasp which is not
sufficiently strong
to extricate us from our utter ruin; for we must remember that our
salvation does not
depend so much upon our hold of Christ as His hold on us. The truth is,
our faith is
not so much a laying hold upon Him as it is a resting in His hold upon
us. Saving
faith is a simple, conscious, and unreserved resting in Christ as the
only Savior of the
lost. Hence, the Apostle says: "For we which have believed do enter
into rest," and
"they to whom it (the gospel) was first preached, entered not in (the
rest of faith)
because of unbelief." And again he says: "For he that is entered into
his rest, he also
hath ceased from his own works, as God did from His. Let us labor
therefore to enter
into that rest, least any man fall after the same example of unbelief."
(Heb. 4:3, 3:6,
10, 11). Here it is clear that faith brings us into a resting in
Christ, and this rest
implies that there is no other object of trust before the
mind, and that we receive
Christ simply and absolutely and that we confide in Him to the fullest
extent for
everything.
These were the great truths which for a long time I failed to perceive,
and thus I
floated down the current of time doubting and hesitating at every step.
I never wholly
lost my interest in heavenly things, at times it became profound. My
desire to become
a Christian was always accompanied by the desire to be a preacher. The
two desires
were always associated together in my mind, and I felt that the one
must follow the
other. Here a great difficulty arose. I did not see how I was to obtain
the education
which was necessary for a minister to possess. I had not
yet united with the church,
as I was not yet satisfied with my spiritual condition. This difficulty
and the one
arising from a want of pecuniary means to prosecute my literary
studies, were
removed in a providential way. I had gone to Ripley on a business trip
and hearing
that Mrs. Gray, the wife of the late Rev. William A. Gray, was very
sick, on my return
I called a few moments to see her. I found her and Mr. Gray alone.
Almost as soon
as I had taken my seat, she said to me: "I have learned that you
are thinking of
studying for the ministry." I was very much surprised at her knowledge
of the matter,
and I told her that I was seriously thinking of doing so. She expressed
herself as
highly gratified at this candid statement of mine, and said: "You must
start to school
at once. We have a good school here in Ripley now, and if you will just
come here
and make our house your home and start to school at once, you are
welcome to do
so." Mr. Gray added that it would afford them pleasure to have me come
to their
house at once and attend the male academy presided over by Prof.
Kimbrough. I
thanked them both for their manifest interest in me, and for their kind
offer, and stated
that I would go home and consult my mother, and if she would consent
for me to do
so, I would accept their very kind offer. I was at that time 23 years
old, but had all my
life been subject to my mother's commands, and I felt that I must still
obey her. I
returned home and communicated to my mother the result of my interview
with Mrs.
Gray. She without any hesitation gave her consent and I was to go just
as soon as the
needful clothing could be procured for me. In a few days we learned
that Mrs. Gray
had died, an event which was not expected when I saw her. My bright
hopes were all
instantly dashed to the ground, but in a few days Mr. Gray sent me a
message stating
that he had secured Mrs. Hughey, his wife's widowed sister, to keep
house for him
and that I must come along and start at once to the school. Light had again fallen
upon my path and I was made happy again. I went and staid at his house
5 months to
the close of the session in June. At this school I began the study of
Greek. I made
commend able progress in all my studies, and at the close of the
session Prof.
Kimbrough bestowed high praise upon me, but I can not think that it was
deserved.
I remained at home a few weeks and then entered Zion Academy, presided
over by
Prof. James B. Anderson, assisted by Prof. P. F. Witherspoon. These
were both very
excellent instructors and I remained with them two sessions. During
this time I heard
a sermon preached by the Rev. James H. Gaillard, who was then the
pastor of Zion
Church, which dispelled from my mind all its doubt and uncertainty in
regard to the
sinner's acceptance with God. The subject of the discourse was "the
substitution of
Christ." As I listened to his words the truth of the gospel dawned
clearly upon my
mind. 1 saw at once that Jesus had taken the sinner's place and had
completely
satisfied all the claims of law and justice, and that con sequently,
everything that I had
to do was simply to be satisfied with His righteousness. I applied at once for
admission into the church, and was received and baptized by the Rev.
Mr. Gaillard.
I boarded in his family during my last session at the academy, and I
formed for
himself, his wife and his children a very strong attachment which has
lasted to this
day.
At the meeting of the Chickasaw Presbytery in the town of Pontotoc in
the
Autumn of 1867, I was received under their care as a candidate for the
ministry, and
after quitting Zion Academy, I entered the Sophomore class in the
University of
Mississippi at Oxford in September, 1868. At the Commencement in June,
1871, I
graduated with the degree of A. B. and in September of that year I
entered the
Theological Seminary at Columbia, South Carolina. I remained in this
institution until
the month of May, 1872, and then returned home, and on the 4th day of
June, 1872,
I was married to Miss Ophelia A. Addison, who lived at Shannon. This
union was a
happy one, but the manner of its termination was sad beyond all my
powers of
description. She possessed a good mind, a cheerful, sweet disposition
and ardent
piety. She seemed always to be happy and her bright, sunny face and
even temper
made all others around her happy. I never saw a frown upon her face and
never heard
her utter an angry word. Toward the poor she always exercised a tender
sympathy and
was ever ready to do all she could to alleviate suffering. No cloud
ever threw its
shadow upon our home and no incident seemed to mar our happiness until
the 9th day
of July, 1874. That day a little daughter was born unto us, but it
never breathed nor
looked upon this world. From that time a deep melancholy settled upon
her and hope
seemed never again to beam upon her. She lingered until the morning of
the 5th of
November, and then while I was absent from home attending the meeting
of our
Synod at Bolivar, Tennessee, she procured poison, drank it and died in
half an hour.
The next day I returned home, being summoned by telegraph, and we
buried her that
afternoon in the Shannon cemetery. There she and our little babe are
sleeping the
same grave awaiting the resurrection morn.
This sudden and overwhelming affliction almost bore me down. I felt
that the
Lord's chastising rod lay heavily upon me. I was thrown into the
greatest confusion
of thought and perplexity of mind. All my earthly hopes of happiness
seemed blasted
forever, and I was driven at times to the verge of despair. I summoned
all my
resolution and by divine help, triumphed over this calamity and
continued without
any intermission to discharge my ministerial duties. I learned then
that hard, faithful
labor and close
attention to duty very greatly tend to modify the ills of this life.
I shall now return again to the period of my marriage. After this event
our
Presbytery gave its consent that I should continue my theological
studies under the
direction of Dr. F. Patton, who lived at Tupelo. When I left the
Seminary I felt
somewhat dissatisfied with the course there. I had been very diligent
in study and had
not during the entire session missed a single recitation, lecture or
conference meeting
with the professors and students. I had given my whole time to study
and yet I felt
that I had not gained much in the way of pre paring to preach. I did
not see how some
of the branches of learning we are required to pursue, could be of any
service to one
preaching the gospel. This view of the matter, coupled with the fact
that I was then
in my 29th year, admonished me that I had no more time to spend in
studying
Geology, Logic, Mental Philosophy and such things and that the
remainder of my
days, which I had never thought would be many, had better be given to
active work.
These were the considerations which decided me not to return to the
seminary,
provided our Presbytery would grant its consent, which they did at
their next meeting.
I remained at home pursuing my theological studies under the direction
of Dr. Patton
until the month of April, 1873. I was examined on my literary and
theological course
by the Presbytery of Chickasaw, at Oxford, Miss. The circumstance under
which the
examination was conducted was very trying to me. It was conducted in
open
Presbytery, there being a full attendance of ministers and elders, and
in addition a
large number of students from the State University, which was located
there, and
some members of the Faculty. I was to some extent overawed, by their
presence. The
examination was very far from being satisfactory to myself. I felt that
I had made a
wretched failure and was deeply mortified. I had no thought that the
Presbytery would
license me, but they resolved to do so. If they had not been sitting in
the solemn
capacity of a court of Jesus Christ, I would have thought that they
were influenced in
their action more from pity for me than their own reason or judgment.
Saturday at 11
o'clock was set as the hour to have my trial sermon.
When the hour arrived, there was a
large audience present, perhaps as large as any to which I have ever
yet preached. It being an idle day
at the University, the students came out in crowds, and there were
several of the grave Professors
present. I am sure that I have never faced an audience since in which
there was so much varied
culture, refinement or solid learning. Dr. John N. Waddel, the
Chancellor of the University and
Moderator of the Presbytery,
took a seat in the pulpit with me. With trembling hands and palpitating
heart I siezed the Bible and hymn book. While finding the hymns, the
thought came into my mind
that I was already so deeply disgraced by my failures the clay before
that nothing that I could do now
would either add to it or diminish aught from it. I felt that no
effort, however successful, could
restore me to the respect of the Presbytery, and that no failure could
add to my confusion. With these
feelings I preached my first sermon. The text was Rom. 5:1. The subject
was justification by faith.
The sermon was better received than I had any thought it would be, and
that afternoon I was duly
licensed to preach the gospel. Returning home I supplied Providence and
Unity Churches until
October, when I was ordained and installed pastor of Providence Church.
I gave this church half my
time and the other half to Unity as stated supply. This pastoral
relation continued 7 years and was
then dissolved, and I have sustained to the church ever since the
relation of stated supply. My entire
ministry has been confined to these two churches with the exception of
two years, during which I
gave to each one Sabbath in the month, and the remaining Sabbaths to
the churches at Tupelo and
Baldwyn.
On the 17th of October, 1876, I was again married, this time to Miss
Eliza J. Sisk of Salem,
Tennessee. Our union has been a very happy one. We have mutually shared
each others joys and
sorrows, and every day reveals to me still more clearly her solid
worth. If I did not fear that she might
suspect me as slightly indulging in flattery, I would say once for all,
that in my opinion there is not
in all this world another woman that would make me such a kind, loving,
and dutiful wife as she.
She is industrious, sensible, and frugal. Her mind and hands are every
day busy attending to the
wants of myself and the children. She is kind hearted and generous, and
forgetful of the faults and
failings of others. She is patient in the midst of domestic turmoils,
and her fingers are nimble in all
kinds of household work. She is skillful in culinary matters, and her
house always displays
the
tidiness of its keeper. In short, from the kitchen to the parlor, she
can, and does, do all things well.
As she and I grow older and see more of the vanities of earth and
experience more of its sorrows,
she grows more dear to me, and today I love her far more tenderly than
when she stood as a beautiful
bride at the marriage altar and plighted me her hand and heart. I am
ready to apply to her the Biblicle
description of a virtuous woman: "The heart of her husband doth safely
trust her, so that he shall
have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days
of life. She seeketh wool and
flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. She stretcheth out her
hands to the poor: Yea, she
reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She openeth her mouth with
wisdom, and her tongue is the
law of kindess. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and
eateth not the bread of idleness.
Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he
praiseth her. Many daughters
have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all." (Prov. 37 chapter).
Five children have been born unto us, four of whom are still living.
The eldest, a very sprightly
little boy, died the 18th of October, 1880. He was just 3 years, 2
months and 12 days old. On the
22nd of September, he was seized with that terrible disease,
diphtheria, and lingered with us 26 days
and died. Sometimes he seemed to get better, but the changes for the
better would not last long. From
the beginning of the attack I never had any hope for his recovery, and
felt conscious at the 'time of
a lurking unbelief in my heart that the Lord would grant my request,
and so he did not, but took him
from us. I saw as soon as the Lord put His hand upon him, that I had
idolized him. My will struggled
with the Lord's will. I could not bear to give him up, but when I saw
him struggling in the throes of
death and then calmly breathe out his spirit, the Lord granted me
resignation to his will, and I have
never for a moment wished the child back in this world of sorrow and
suffering. Many are the evils
which he has happily escaped. Since his death I have regarded our other
children in a very different
light. I look upon them as belonging to the Lord and as being entrusted
to us for a time to be trained
for Him. While I love my children dearly, yet I have never since the
death of our first born son
allowed my affections to be set upon them. We buried our William at
Providence Church. A little
marble stone marks his last resting place. We planted no flowers about
his grave, but set there two
beautiful evergreen magnolias to overshadow the little mound, and when
the springtime comes with
its bright sunshine, balmy
air, and song of birds, they will send forth their snowy white flowers
as
the emblems of his pure spirit!
I shall here mention the fact, though it may seem a little abrupt just
at this place, that I have twice
been commissioned by our Presbytery to sit in the General Assembly of
our church. The first time
at St. Louis, Mo., and the second time at Atlanta, Ga. The St. Louis
Assembly was remarkable in the
fact that it contained so many of the distinguished ministers of our
church. There were present such
men as Drs. Palmer, Girardean, LeFevre, Hoge, Robinson, Plumer,
Chapman, and Waddel, and many
others who were widely known through out the church. Taken altogether,
I doubt whether our church
has ever yet convened an abler body of men. Some great and vital
questions were discussed and
settled by this Assembly. It was there decided that our church should
send delegates to the Pan-Presbyterian Council which was to meet in
Edinburgh. I voted against this action, and so did a good
many others, but the project was carried through by Dr. Stuart
Robinson. The personnel of the
Atlanta Assembly was not near so distinguished as that at St. Louis.
Its members were mostly young
men, scarcely known in the church. One of the important measures
adopted by this Assembly was
the establishment of fraternal relations with the Northern Presbyterian
Church. The scheme was
bitterly opposed by a few members, but it was finally carried by an
overwhelming majority. I voted
most heartily for the measure, and have had no cause to regret it
today. The Assembly of St. Louis
met in the month of May, 1875, and was in session ten days, the Rev. M.
D. Hoge, D. D., of
Richmond, Va., being the Moderator. The Atlanta Assembly met also in
the month of May, 1882,
and was also in session ten days, the Rev. R. K. Smoot, D. D., of
Austin, Texas, being the
Moderator. At the former of these assemblies I was impressed with the
greatness of some great men,
but at the latter I was im pressed with the littleness of some great
men.
On the 2nd day of October, 1883, I was suddenly attacked with heart
disease, and since that time
I have been almost a confirmed invalid. I have suffered no physical
pain, but my depression of spirits
has at times been almost more than I could bear. I have preached but
little since the time I was first
taken sick, being often in bed, or scarcely able to walk about. And now
after the lapse of 16 months,
I do not appeal' to be much better than when first at tacked. I have
about surrendered all hope of ever
being well again, or of ever being able to do much more in this world.
Being thus situated, stand,
and
by the grace of God I expect here to die!
Regarding the future, I do not say that I have no fears. A deep sense
of my utter unworthiness
and of the exceeding vileness of my heart sometimes scatters dark
clouds over my spiritual vision,
but when I look up in faith, the clouds are sifted, their' shadows are
speedily chased away, and the
light of hope again beams upon me. No thoughtful man can contemplate
death, so awful in its
profound mysteriousness, without being deeply impressed with its
solemnity. During my present
illness, when several times I thought that I was perhaps treading upon
the threshold of eternity, I
sensibly realized my need of Divine support to enable me to meet the
king of terrors with out fear
or alarm. I felt that when the final struggle came, if God did not
appear on my behalf, I might be
seized with fear and over come. I therefore trust Him as much for
strength to die, as I do for
salvation, and I pray that when the time of my departure comes, that I
may have the strong supports
of Divine grace and know that Jesus is with me. And now I pray that my
dear little children for
whom these lines have been written may all be led by the Spirit of God
into the knowledge of the
truth, and be brought at last to heaven, and that they and I may sing
with all the saints of God: "Unto
Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and
hath made us kings and priests
unto God and His Father; to Him be glory and dominion for ever and
ever. Amen."
February 12th, 1885.
1. Brothers buried in
the same grave in Concord Cemetery, Union Co., MS:
Charles Walker Newton, born 1 June 1839, died 25 Oct. 1861
Co. B 23rd Miss.
Infantry
Thomas Alexander Newton, born 8 Feb. 1837, died 26 Oct 1861,
Co. K 21st Miss.
Infantry
Note: This autobiography
was submitted by Thomas H. Newton for private use only and he
retains the copyright. Permission to use this autobiography for any
other purpose must be
obtained from Thomas Newton
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