There was a pathetic touch in the life of a man who would labor on his little farm, cleared by his own hands, in the wilds of south Alabama, and who, at night, when the labor of the day was over, would sprawl himself in his little yard before his blazing pine-knot fire, and study his plain English Bible--the only book in his library. Leaving his hut in the woods, each week, in time to reach distant settlements to preach on Sunday, he would throw his little wallet of cotton cloth across his shoulders, and set out on foot to trudge the distance, sometimes of forty miles, for the privilege of preaching to some distant community. He came to know every foot of the wide Indian trails that wound through the forests over a vast area, and knew every log on which he could cross the large streams in those bridgeless days of the long ago. Nothing foiled him in the excursions of good, for when the rains would swell the streams, he would strip himself, cram his apparel within his wallet, and, being an expert swimmer, he would hold his bag above his head with one hand, while with the other he would swim to the opposite side, redress, and onward plod his way. Among the elements of abounding romance in our history, nothing exceeds in interest the intrepidity of this pioneer hero in contributing to the moral and spiritual side of the early days of our history. His punctuality in meeting his appointments, and his devotion to the gospel and to the people, won for him a confidence supreme. In those days when courts were not, and yet where conflicting litigants were, cases for final adjudication would be held in abeyance "till the preacher comes." Causes were submitted, but he would never consent to a consideration of them till the contending parties would agree to abide amicably his decision. Such was the clearness and saneness of his judgment, the fairness of his spirit, and his profound sense of right, that every litigant would promptly accept this condition. He was jury, advocate, and judge, all in one, and for many years, in that interior pioneer region, he acted in this threefold capacity, while he rendered unrequited service as a missionary. His was a strange, strong, romantic life, spent for the good of others to the neglect of his own personal comfort. That class has dwindled to a list so small and rare that today, when similar devotion is shown, the world knows no higher designation for such a man than that of "crank," yet it is the crank that turns things.