Pentecostal Possibilities or "The Story of My Life"
by Milton Lorenzo (M. L.) Haney
Chapter 2
Birth and Childhood
I was born Jan. 23, 1825, in Richland County, Ohio, one mile east of Savannah, and seven miles from Ashland. Richland County has since been divided, and this territory is now in Ashland County. The vicinity was largely an unbroken beech forest when father came. Savannah was laid out by my oldest brother, John, and was, at first, called Haneytown. Here the first nine years of my life were spent, and their memories are very precious. John Gregg, an Irishman, was my first school teacher. The seats in the brick school house were without backs, which was a misfortune to the boys, but a comfort to Gregg.
He kept a supply of long beech sprouts, for all common uses, and a rawhide in the southeast corner for special occasions. Often when passing a row of boys whom he thought might disobey in the near future, he would apply the rod as a preventive. When school opened he held a ruler in his hand till some scholar looked off his book, when instantly the ruler would go flying trough the air to where the culprit was seated. The offender was then compelled to return the ruler to the teacher, who applied it severely to his outstretched open hand. The culprit then took the ruler and kept it till another child failed to keep his eyes on his book, when he hurled it at him, and he came forward for punishment as before. So after the first offender there was one child on guard with the ruler in hand till the next offender relieved him. The first class in spelling was called out in a row on the west side of the room as the closing service of each day. The pupil at the head of the class the previous day had now to take his place at the foot. Gregg never failed to stand in front, with both spelling book and ruler in hand. Each member of the class who missed a word was ordered to stretch forth his hand, when the ruler was heartily applied to the palm.
In this class there was an overgrown boy of 19 summers, called "Bill" Jackson. The hardest word in the lesson was put to him one evening, and he "missed" it. "Stretch forth your hand, sir," was the order of the angry teacher; but Bill did not respond. The command was repeated, and the student was still obdurate. No common instrument in this case could fill the bill, so Gregg hastened to the southeast corner for his rawhide but Bill calmly moved for the hall, where stove wood was stored, and returned with a good selection in his hand, meeting Gregg in front of the class. "Lay down that stick, sir!" But Bill made no reply, and the cowardly despot returned the rawhide to its place and Bill returned the stick of wood to the hall, and bowed himself out of school, taking that as his graduating service. Children of that generation, in what was then called the West, got what knowledge they could with difficulty.
Our religious privileges were better. My father's home was a place of moral culture. He was generally absent each Sabbath, preaching twice or thrice, and returning at night. Connected with family prayers each child was interrogated as to his reading, especially as to the Scriptures. There was a rigid abstaining from all unnecessary work on the Sabbath, and the playgrounds were forsaken. It was appointed of God as a day for rest and worship, and we listened and obeyed. After seventy years, the memories of those Sabbath days are a benediction. Strict obedience to parental authority was demanded through those years, and it may be truthfully said I never planned once to disobey my father. There were failures to execute orders, from failures of memory, or heedlessness of childhood; but no single case is now remembered of direct, intentional rebellion. This is in no sense to be attributed to any inborn goodness in me, but the result of a wise, scriptural and divinely appointed family government.
There was one marked case of known disobedience to a command of mother. I was a lover of horses, and claimed one colt as especially mine. It was gentle and yet dangerous to a child. Mother had strictly forbidden me to ride the colt, but my older cousins and little brother were there, and the boys "dared" me to ride. I was accordingly mounted, but had not proceeded far till the colt gave a spring and I was lying on the ground. Being hurt from the fall, I came to mother and told her "I was feeling badly and would like to lie down awhile." Mother seemed almost omniscient, and responded: "Milton have you been riding that colt?" I answered: "No, I haven't!" I was sleeping soundly when a neighbor came in and inquired how Milton was. Mother responded: "How did you know that Milton was poorly?" "Why," said he, "I saw him when the colt threw him off." Mother had just come from her bedroom when I arose. Her eyes were very red, as she had been weeping before God. She said nothing, but looked as though her heart was broken. I also saw a well prepared beech rod near by, and felt as though the judgment day were nearing. It was not until another season of prayer was had and mother felt she had light from God, that a word was spoken to me on the subject. I was then invited to accompany her to the barn.
It was the first and only time she had ever known me to lie, and now her confidence in me had been destroyed. To know that her boy had lied was like death to her. She dwelt upon the awful character of intentional falsehood, insisting it would undermine all that was good, bring the curse of God, and the damnation of hell. She then prayed with me, and wept and prayed, and then administered the most fearful scourging I ever received, before or since. The procedure of that day had much to do with laying the foundation in me for the joy of illimitable years. Mother's love for me was too great to allow me to perish. There was no visible symptom of anger, or revenge in her marred face, but it was the picture of wounded love.
Her whole procedure was full of heavenly wisdom and the scourging given was God's appointed remedy for sin. The government of children by their parents in those days was recognized by Christians as the absolute order of God, and disobedience to parents a crime. Times have changed and parents now are more frequently ruled by their children, but the law of God has not changed, nor is doom averted by those who fail to respond to its requirements. Both the parent and the child may repent and through Christ be forgiven, but neither can ever be what they might have been had the child obeyed and the parent exacted obedience.