and I voted in the negative. Then during the same year, 1860, November the 6th, we were privileged to vote for a President of the United States. The candidates were A. Lincoln, S. A. Douglas, J. B. Breckenridge and John Bell. Brother voted for Bell for he thought Bell was the only one that would save the union. I voted for Douglas because I thought his election would save from the impending war. The manner of voting was then quite different from what it is now. The judges of election sat in the school house by a lower open window and the voters would file up to the window on the outside. For instance when I appeared at the window to vote, a judge from within asked, "What is your name?" I replied, Z. S. Hastings. "For whom do you vote," asked the judge. I vote for Stephen A. Douglas," was my reply. The judge then said in a loud voice, "Z. S. Hastings votes for Stephen A. Douglas." The clerk recorded it. That was all. The next president I voted for was Abraham Lincoln. And, as it is said, of some Democrats who are still voting for Thomas Jefferson, I am still voting for Abraham Lincoln, that is to say, these Democrats are still voting for some of the principles that were taught by Thomas Jefferson, and I am still voting for some of the principles held by Abraham Lincoln. Among them the rule which is called Golden and is found the Book. This rule is not an "iridescent dream" with me.

My oldest brother Joshua Thomas Hastings was a home guard soldier and a teacher in Bolivar, Missouri, when the battle of Springfield was fought and General Lyon was killed. After the battle the Home Guards and Union men in general in that part of the state, had (using a war word) to skedaddle for their lives. My brother tried to make his escape to Kansas but three times was arrested by confederate scouts. Once, in a road, sheltered on either side with hazel brush and a thick undergrowth of other bushes, the leader of the band, who seemed to want to befriend my brother, whispered to him, that a majority of them (there were six or eight of them) had voted to kill him. "Now" said he, "jump for your life," As soon as said, brother leaped into the brush like a wild deer,—bang, went the cracking of half a dozen or more guns, but each shot missed except one, which just grazed the top of his shoulder. My brother then determined to return back to Bolivar, and with his family return, if possible to Indiana. In this he was successful.

At this time our mother and two sisters were living in Allen County Kansas. Brother had not been back in Indiana long until he helped to raise a new company for the war and with it went into the union army. But in less than a year he was taken sick and died in an army hospital at Henderson, in Kentucky, November 14th, 1863.

In the meantime I too had returned to Indiana, and, with brother's wife, went to him, when hearing he was sick. We were with him only about three hours before he died. At the end of the next two days we returned with him to our old home in old Clarksburg, (now Oden) Daviers County, Indiana, where, the next day, we buried brother by the side of our father, who had been buried nine years. This was the second death in father's family. Brother was a good man, a scholar, a soldier, and a teacher. He gave his life upon the altar of his country at the early age of thirty-six.

War is a great evil, dreadful, fearful, terrible. O, for the time when "nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more!"

Upon my return to Indiana, after an absence of nearly five years, I was quite a different person, in many respects, from what I was when I went away. I had grown in length to be six feet and two inches tall and the hair of my head and the beard of my face was as black as jet, the one standing on its ends, the other full and hanging six inches or more in length. Besides had I not been born anew and was now a new creature? Old things had passed away. Yet I went back to my old place of teaching, Tophet. With preaching added to teaching, there again I taught the urchins and preached to the sinners. And at this writing 1911, there is a new name, a new people (a converted people), a house of God and many worshippers of the Most High God. Surely the world doth grow better.

At the Owl Prairie where I hoed corn when I was a little boy and fished in the canal, I was called to take charge of a protracted meeting, and at this meeting I had my first baptism. Heretofore I had always insisted on someone of experience to doing this. The baptism took place in the West Fork of the White River. Owl Prairie is now the city of Elnoa with two railroads, and churches and schools.

My next attendance at a protracted meeting was to help Thompson Little. This meeting was held at old Clarksburg on the very site, in a new church building, where I went to school when quite young and where I appeared in my first effort as a public speaker. It was a recitation and commenced the way:

     "'Tis a lesson you should head,
     If at first you don't succeed
     Try, try again."

Well, at this meeting I preached and seven young people came forward at one time and gave me their hands and made the good confession. It was the greatest number that ever came forward at any one time upon my invitation. These seven were all my old playmates and schoolmates. It was a good meeting.

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C H A P T E R N I N E

Generous friends. Christian, Catholic Methodist, $1.50 $1.00 $0.00 A hawk story. April 15, 1865. All Irish but one. The Bible in school. Not Papa.

During this period of my life, which included the latter part of the Civil War, I was occupied mostly at Christian Liberty, and Washington, Daviers County, Ind., both teaching and preaching. A part of the two years following this was spent in school at Indianapolis and Miram, Ohio. At Christian Liberty, my church house and school house were in the same yard. On the first day I occupied the one and on the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth days, I occupied the other. And on the seventh day I rested. That is the way teachers and preachers work. I am not a sabbatarian.

At Christian Liberty which was a country place I made my home for almost four years in the family of W. A. Wilson. He was a well-to-do farmer and had an interesting family. He was a good man, but somewhat peculiar. For instance, as fast as I earned money teaching he would borrow it, giving his note drawing legal interest, and when the note was due he would pay it with the identical money he had borrowed. He would also pay the interest. I asked why he did that, "O" he would answer, "I always like to have money in my pocket." "Then besides," he would add, "a young man ought to have his money at interest." Mr. Wilson was a Christian and very generous and kind. He only charged me $1.50 per week for board. I also boarded at another period in my life in a Catholic family named Wade, for three years. They, too, were kind and generous, charging me only $1.00 per week. The father and mother were old and allowed me all the privileges about the home as I were a son. More than that: they allowed he all the liberty of a Protestant Christian, telling me to read my Bible as much as I pleased, and if I wished to offer thanks at the table to do so. This I did and they their crosses.

One Saturday, when sitting in my room in the spring of the year, looking out of the open door I saw what not one boy in a million, perhaps, ever saw. A large chicken hawk made a dive down in the yard at an old hen and her brood of little chickens. Mrs. Wade heard the noise and dashed out through the open door, and threw her apron over the hawk, and caught it and choked it to death.

One winter when