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his disposal.
He goes on to say: “Witness, ye holy angels!
I am God's servant; witness, thou, Prince of Hell!
I am thy enemy, thy implacable enemy, from this time forth and forevermore.”
That this covenant was well kept, no one who reads his memoirs and the testimony of his contemporaries can doubt.
There are many anecdotes of Uncle Ben.
Once, during his early ministry, he was riding in a crowded stagecoach.
One of the passengers swore profusely and continuously, to the manifest annoyance of the others.
Presently Dr. Cutler, leaning forward, addressed the swearer.
“Sir,” he said, “you are fond of blasphemy; I am fond of prayer.
This is a public conveyance, and for the remainder of our journey, as often as you swear aloud, I shall pray aloud, and we will see who comes off best.”
The swearing stopped!
In his later years, he met one day a parishioner clad in deep mourning for a near relative.
The old clergyman laid his hand on the crape sleeve.
“What!”
he said sternly.
“Heathen mourning for a Christian saint!”
But of all the uncles (and there were many) the beloved Uncle John Ward was always first.
Of him, through many years Julia's devoted friend and chief adviser, we shall speak later on.
We have dwelt upon the generation preceding our mother's, because all these people, the beautiful mother so early lost, so long loved and mourned, the sternly devoted father, the vivacious aunts, the stalwart
Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston and New York. 1916.
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