The Still Small Voice
After spending two and one-half years in England and Canada, getting the Saints out, I started back with the last lot, about a hundred, from Boston. We landed in Pittsburg at dusk. We were anxious not to stay there, but to go on to St. Louis. I saw a steamer making steam ready to go out. I went to the captain and asked how many passengers he had. "Three hundred and fifty. "Could you take another hundred?" "Yes." The Spirit said to me, "Donít go aboard that steamer; you nor your company. "All right," said I.
In thirty minutes after the steamer left, it took fire. It had ropes instead of wheel chains and they could not go ashore. It was a dark night and not a soul was saved.
I never disobeyed that Spirit but once in my life; I did it then through the urgency of other people, and it nearly cost me my life. The Spirit was not the blow of trumpets, nor thunder and lightning; it was the still small voice to me.