My father was from Kentucky. He bought many a carload of horses and mules from his native state and others hard by and sold them to farmers, sawmills, and turpentine woodsmen.
When I left for my first appointment in Teas, he said to me, "Now Nath, I want you to promise me two things. First, that you will always feed your own horse. Some might feed him too much, another too little. If you feed him yourself, you will know how to ride him."
One fifth Sunday I preached at a little school house and went home with a family for dinner. The husband started to take my horse and I told him what I had promised my Daddy. "Alright then, come on. There's the crib, shuck out the corn and I will throw you down a good bundle of fodder." I shucked out ten big ears.
The other thing my Daddy wanted me to promise was that I would never go on another man's note. "Why Papa, you know a Methodist circuit rider can't be bothered with anything like that!" "Very well," said my Daddy, "you just promise." So I did.
For the first few years I never got over $500; however, in later years the pay got better. But the joy of service was just the same. And the promise I had made my Daddy came in mighty handy!
"Uncle Nath"
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