A Circuit Rider's Wife

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Corra Harris. A Circuit Rider's Wife

A Circuit Rider's Wife

Table of Contents

ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER I

I AM CHOSEN INSTEAD OF THE PRAYER MEETING VIRGIN

CHAPTER II

I BUILD FOR MYSELF A MONUMENT MORE ENDURING THAN BRASS

CHAPTER III

THE REVIVAL AT REDWINE

Brother Tom Pratt, a Prominent Member, Had Backslided

CHAPTER IV

WILLIAM AS A LEADER OF FORLORN HOPE

With Such Sad Hunger in Their Faces

CHAPTER V

GOD'S ANNUALS

CHAPTER VI

WILLIAM ENTERS HIS WORLDLY MIND

CHAPTER VII

THE LITTLE ITINERANT—AND OTHERS

"I'll Pay You, Parson. I'll Pay as Soon as I'm Able."

CHAPTER VIII

I HOLD THE STAGE

CHAPTER IX

WILLIAM AND THE FEMININE SOUL

CHAPTER X

WILLIAM BECOMES A PRODIGAL

I Heard Him in His Study Singing

CHAPTER XI

FINANCES AND FASHIONS

CHAPTER XII

THE CHEERFUL LITTLE DOG THAT LED THE BLIND MAN

CHAPTER XIII

WILLIAM WRESTLING WITH TRAVELING ANGELS

CHAPTER XIV

CURIOUS FACTS ABOUT THE NATURE OF A PRIEST

"It's Going To Be an Awful Night; Don't Go—She Is Not a Member of Your Church."

CHAPTER XV

SKELETONS IN WILLIAM'S DOCTRINAL CLOSET

CHAPTER XVI

IN THE LITTLE GRAVEYARD BEHIND REDWINE CHURCH

Then He Took Up with Job in the Scriptures

CHAPTER XVII

BACK AGAIN TO THE WORLD

Not So Much for Him as for Fear He Would Not Understand

CHAPTER XVIII

CONSCIENTIOUS SCRUPLES ABOUT THE CHURCH

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Corra Harris

Published by Good Press, 2019

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On this day plenty strewed the ground from Sister Glory White's basket to Sister Amy Jurdon's and Sister Salter's. There were biscuit the size of saucers and of the thickness of bread loaves, hams, baked hens, roasted pigs, more biscuit, cucumber pickles six inches in length, green-grape pies, custards of every kind and disposition, and cakes that proclaimed the skill of every woman in the church.

William advised me to eat as I had never eaten before or the women would think I did not like their cooking and would be correspondingly offended. I was expected to consume at least three of the great biscuit and everything else in proportion. Fortunately, I sat near a tangle of vines in which I discovered a dog was hiding, a hound who gazed imploringly at me through the leaves with the forlorn, backslidden-sinner expression peculiar to his species, as much as to say: "Don't tell I am here; maybe then I'll get a few crumbs later on." I not only did not tell, but I fed him eight of the biscuit, five slices of ham, and nearly everything else in reach of me except the cucumber pickles. I never saw a dog eat more furtively or so well.

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