John Loughborough
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John Loughborough's life story began January 26, 1832, almost two years before the stars fell. He was born in Victor, New York, a village on the stage line between Albany and Buffalo. His earliest recollections were of the family gathered for worship before breakfast and after supper in the big kitchen.

The Christian influence of the Loughborough family extended beyond their own home. Father and Grandfather, although not members of the clergy, were both "local preachers" in the Methodist Episcopal Church. Through their leadership a company of believers was established, and a church building was erected, which became a gathering place for other small congregations in the area, especially at the time of quarterly Communion services. The children regularly attended the services with their parents, and the younger generation sat in reverence, listening to the testimonies of the members as they made public confessions in preparation for the Lord's Supper.

Since Johnny was less than two years old on that wonderful night in November, 1833, when the cascade of stars fell from the sky, he could not remember it. Nevertheless he enjoyed hearing his father and mother recount the story on many occasions, declaring it to be one of the signs of the return of Jesus.

John was seven years old when his father died. As there were two older and two younger children in the family, the boy was sent to live with his grandfather, who owned a farm three miles from Victor. There the boy found plenty of work doing little tasks and errands for his aunt and helping the hired man with the farm work. The part John liked best was riding the plow horse. From his high seat he could look back and see the steel plow turn furrow after furrow of brown earth. He enjoyed riding the harrow as it smoothed the ground for the planting of the seed.

As good Methodists of those days, the Loughboroughs believed in a "hell-fire" judgment. They were opposed by the Universalists, whose concept of free grace led them to teach that God was too merciful to condemn sinners to destruction, no matter how wicked they bad been. This opposition sometimes grew into community bitterness and violence. Sometimes as the big farm wagon would roll along the road, bringing the family home from church, Johnny would hear shouts of, "Old Methodists! Old Methodists!" Once Grandfather found several lengths of his fence torn down and stray cattle eating his corn and trampling down his grain. Without saying a word he drove out the cattle and, while the troublesome neighbor and his boys looked on and made sneering remarks, he set up the fence again. Then he went into the house to pray for those who had treated him unkindly.

It was the last week in December, 1843, when, with other members of the family, John went to hear the sermons of an Adventist preacher. James Barry was holding a series of meetings at the Methodist church in Victor. John remembered that delightful sleigh ride -- the crisp air against his cheeks, the glistening snow that crunched and crackled under the sleigh runners, and the jingle of bells that kept time with the trot, trot of the old mare. He remembered, too, the jesting remark about the coming of the Lord made by a neighbor lad, and Grandfather's sobering rebuke: "Young man, you had better be careful how you treat this subject before you know what it is."

When the family reached the church, it was crowded. People were standing in the aisles and sitting on the gallery steps. A gentleman invited John to climb up behind him and perch on the back of the bench.

The Methodist pastor was sitting on the rostrum beside Evangelist Barry. Above and back of the pulpit there was a chart illustrating the prophecies of Daniel and the Revelation. The minister read the text: "Fear God, and give glory to him; for the hour of his judgment is come." He showed from the prophecies of Daniel that the time of the judgment was at hand, and the audience was made to feel that it was standing before the judgment seat of God. The preacher also read Daniel 8:14: "Unto two thousand and three hundred days; then shall the sanctuary be cleansed."

As the people came out of the church that night, they saw a strange and wonderful sight. Stretched across the heavens from southwest to northeast was a band of light that appeared about as wide as the moon's disk. They stood quietly looking at it for a long time. Many were thinking of the prophecy in Joel: "And I will shew wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire, and pillars of smoke. The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and the terrible day of the Lord come."

The young man who that evening on his way to meeting bad made fun of the Advent teachings now stood looking with awe into the sky. In a trembling voice he said, "Uncle Nathan, you and the Adventist preachers are right. This is a sign that Jesus is coming soon."

In 1838 Josiah Litch published a tract in which he showed that if Bible students were correct in believing that a day in prophecy stood for a year of actual time, then the prophecy of Revelation 9 about the Turkish Empire would be fulfilled on August 11, 1840, and Turkey would then lose its power as an independent nation. Many Christians, including the Loughborough family, waited to see if the prophecy would come true. And it did. In the exact month of the specific year, four nations of Europe intervened to settle a quarrel between Turkey and Egypt.

The Loughboroughs and their fellow believers were thrilled as they read reports of the progress the Advent teaching was making in the world. Three hundred ministers in the United States alone were giving all their time to preaching the first angel's message:

"Fear God, and give glory to him; for the hour of his judgment is come: and worship him that made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of waters."

Grandfather Loughborough, in company with the other believers in Victor, waited patiently for the spring of 1844, the time of expectation. But March passed, then April, and still they waited. Many of the ministers who, at first, had invited the Adventist preachers to lecture in their churches, now closed their doors against them.

Grandfather Loughborough was sad to break with the church he had helped to build up and had served as class leader and deacon for many years. The Advent believers quietly withdrew and met in small groups in private homes.

One of the Adventist preachers, named Samuel Snow, had been teaching for some months that the twenty-three hundred years of prophecy of Daniel would not end until the fall of the year, instead of in the spring, as was first believed. A five-day camp meeting was held near Exeter, New Hampshire, August 12-17, 1844. This was a long way from Victor, New York, where the Loughboroughs lived, so they could not attend. From the Advent periodicals, however, they learned that three thousand persons were on the grounds. Family tents were pitched in the grove; a speakers' platform was erected under the trees, and rows and rows of plank seats were arranged in front of it. The following account was related to John Loughborough many years later.

One day Joseph Bates, an old sea captain, was speaking. He was describing the joy of passengers and sailors on shipboard as their vessel neared the harbor after a long sea voyage. He was encouraging the people to rejoice at the thought that they would soon be at the end of their journey, safe at home with their Redeemer. During the meeting Samuel Snow arrived at the campground on horseback. He hastily cared for his horse and then, with Bible in hand, came into the meeting and sat down beside Elder and Mrs. John Couch. He held a short whispered conversation with his friends. Suddenly Mrs. Couch beckoned to the speaker.

"What is it, sister?" Joseph Bates asked.

"What you are saying is good," the woman declared; "but here is a man who has something new to tell us; he has light on 'the midnight cry’.

"Then let him come up here on the platform and give it to the people," said Bates; and he sat down. The new arrival ascended the platform and addressed the congregation:

"Where are we in the Advent experience? Where have we been since April?"

They answered, "We have been in the tarrying time."

"Yes, and we have been asleep, like the ten virgins in the parable. How long did the bridegroom tarry?"

"Till midnight."

"That is right. Tell me, what does a day stand for in prophecy?"

"A day stands for a year."

"Then what would a night be?"

"Half a year, or six months."

"Then is it not plain, that midnight would come in the middle of the six months? We have been in the tarrying time of the message more than three months. We have passed the midnight of the time. I am here to give you 'the midnight cry,' 'Behold, the Bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet Him.' We are in the tarrying time because we made a mistake in our reckoning. The decree to rebuild Jerusalem that marked the beginning of the 2300-year period did not go forth at the beginning of the year 457 B.C., but in the latter part of it. Therefore the 2300 years should end in the fall of 1844, and not in the spring of that year, as we have supposed."

The power of the Spirit attended the speaker as he solemnly announced, "It is time for us to wake up and give 'the midnight cry,' 'Behold, the Bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet Him.'" The service ended in a testimony meeting of song, prayer, and praise.

The leaders begged Snow to stay longer and help with the meetings; but he answered, "No, you have the message. I must go on tonight and give it to others." He mounted his horse and galloped off at full speed. But he left the Adventist believers with the definite hope of seeing Jesus on October 22, less than three months from that day.

John Loughborough was happier than he had ever been, for he was trusting in his Savior and awaiting a home in His heavenly kingdom. Every night, before closing his eyes in sleep, he reviewed the events of the day to see if he had done or said anything that would grieve his Savior. Not a sin could be left unconfessed until morning. He joined a group of earnest youth who met regularly to pray for the unconverted.

Joyfully the Adventist group approached the day of expectation; but October 22 passed, and Jesus did not come. John was bitterly disappointed. The neighbor boys with whom he had talked about the coming of Jesus now taunted him, "Haven't gone up yet, have you, John?"

Through the sad days that followed, the little company of believers at Victor, as well as hundreds of other Adventist groups in other towns and cities, reviewed the prophecies, trying to find some possible error in their reckoning of the time; but they could not find it. They continued to study and pray, and to wait for the Lord to show them where they had made a mistake.

Grandfather Loughborough planned for John to go on with his schooling. He reasoned that the boy ought to get a good education, which would enable him to serve the Lord intelligently as long as time should last. "The Master bids us, 'Occupy till I come,'" Grandfather said. "That means that while we wait for His appearing, we should go on with our regular work, being good farmers, or mechanics, or students, being good neighbors, and doing everything we do so faithfully that we shall honor God."

In April, 1847, when John was fifteen years old, he went to live with his eldest brother, who had a carriage maker's shop in Victor. He intended to work in the shop during the summer and attend high school in the winter. But at the end of seven months his brother closed his shop and went to work with another carriage maker in Adam's Basin, a town thirty miles away on the Erie Canal. John then went to live with his mother, and he attended high school in Victor. He paid his tuition by sweeping the classrooms, building the fires, and ringing the bell.

One day in June, 1848, John's Uncle Norton said to him, "I am going to drive in my carriage to visit your brother in Adam's Basin. Would you like to go with me?" John went along, and it is a good thing he did. On Sunday of that weekend visit he attended an all-day meeting conducted by Phinehas Smith, an Adventist preacher.

One day Evangelist Smith led two candidates into a deep channel of water above a mill wheel and baptized them into the first-day Adventist church. John Loughborough was one of the candidates. The sneers and taunts of the men who frequented the blacksmith shop did not disturb him in the least, for his heart overflowed with joy. The only thing that seemed of importance to him was the fact that Jesus was coming soon.

Now he began to wonder how God would open the way for him to preach. He was without money and necessary clothing, and he was physically exhausted from nine weeks of malarial fever. He tried to dig a patch of potatoes in order to earn some money, but he had to give it up because of weakness. After resting a few days he accepted a job sawing and splitting firewood for a neighbor. He boarded with the family, working when his strength would permit. When he was too weak to cut wood, he prepared Bible studies to give as soon as he was ready to begin preaching. After a few weeks of convalescing and working he managed to save one dollar above his expenses!

A few days after Christmas, shortly before his seventeenth birthday, John boarded a train from Rochester, with a five-dollar package of Adventist tracts under his arm, which his brother had given him to sell and apply on his expenses. From Rochester he walked about ten miles to Adam's Basin, where he spent the night with his brother. Here he must have acquired a small satchel in which he carried tracts, his Bible and hymn-book, and a few personal belongings.

On the evening of January 2, 1849, John preached his first sermon, to a well-filled church. He sang a hymn, offered prayer, and then sang again. He told the story of the Garden of Eden, of Adam and Eve's disobedience, and of their great loss because of disobedience. Banished from their perfect home, our first parents began their life of hardship and toil. They were told that they must die and return to the dust. Angels were stationed at the Garden gate to prevent them from returning to eat the fruit of the tree of life. No sinner would be permitted access to that fruit; therefore no sinner would live forever. As the guilty pair heard the pronouncement of their punishment, they also received the cheering promise of a Redeemer.

Attentive faces in John's audience assured him that God had used him that night to speak His message as the Holy Spirit impressed hearts. His natural timidity left him as he broke the bread of life to hungry souls. He did not know until afterward that there were seven preachers in his audience listening to his sermon.

When John Loughborough started out to preach, he had five sermons. During the first few weeks of his labor, by diligent study, he added six more to the list. Thus he was able to give eleven Bible lectures in one place before he moved on to another community. Since he was working alone, he had to make all the arrangements for churches or schoolhouses. He must find a place of meeting, secure permission to use it, and send out the announcements. Sometimes he had to make the fire and arrange the chairs or benches. If he had not already found lodging with some family, he had to arrange for that after the first meeting was over.

In November of the same year the Adventist brethren arranged for Loughborough to go on a tour with Evangelist Sullivan Heath, who traveled with horse and carriage. They went together as far as Pennsylvania, stopping along the way wherever they could find a suitable place to hold meetings and distribute tracts. As a result of their winter's labor a number of new believers were added to the Adventist groups.

In the spring of 1850 several church groups joined in raising a fund to purchase a horse, harness, and a light wagon for Loughborough's use. This outfit enabled him to travel from village to village in western New York and to carry a good supply of tracts. He labored in this way for two years, preaching a few sermons in one place and then hastening on to give the message in other communities. In order to earn a few dollars to apply on his expenses he sometimes worked at odd jobs during the day, helping a farmer, mechanic, or carpenter; in the evenings he would preach.

In 1851, at the age of twenty, a little more than three years after he had begun preaching, John was married to Mary J. Walker, who loved the Lord with all her heart. She was cheerful under difficulties, always ready to lay aside her plans in order to entertain her husband's friends or accompany him in making his visits to those in need.

One day in September, 1852, after John Loughborough had returned to Rochester from a short preaching tour, Mr. Orton, one of his friends, came to him. Speaking of a meeting to be held that night, he said, "Your Clarkson and Parma companies have all joined the Seventh-day people, and you have a duty to go to that meeting and get them out of the Saturday keeping." He explained that the minister would give the congregation an opportunity to ask questions, and he added, "You get your texts ready to show them that the law is abolished."

That night these two men, with six others of the group, attended the meeting of the Seventh-day people. It was held in the front room of a large rented house on Mount Hope Avenue, which served as mission home, publishing house, and church. John Loughborough was prepared for a stiff argument, and his proof texts were copied on a slip of paper in his Bible.

When the group reached the building, they found that a conference was in session. They entered the room while a testimony meeting was in progress. Testimonies of praise came from loving hearts, and the visitors were impressed by the heavenly atmosphere of the meeting. In a few minutes Harvey Cottrell entered and stood up to give his testimony. "Praise the Lord for His goodness," he said as his face beamed. "I came to Rochester last Tuesday to attend this Bible conference, but have been in bed with a fever. My great desire to be with you led me to ask the brethren to anoint me and pray for my healing, according to the instructions in the fifth chapter of James; and I am here!"

Loughborough remembered that his own uncle, an earnest Christian and a devout Adventist, had been healed in the same way only a few weeks before. He said to himself, "The stories that were told me about the Seventh-day people getting together and having a noisy, fanatical time, screaming and yelling, must be false. Their meetings are quiet and dignified; and it can be seen that the blessing of the Lord is with them."

At this service John Andrews spoke on "The Two Laws," and as a result of the meeting, Loughborough had his first introduction to the binding nature of the Decalogue and a glimpse of the meaning of the heavenly sanctuary. Seeing that he could not prove from the Bible the abolition of the moral law, he told a friend, Mr. Lamson, "I see I shall have to keep the Sabbath."

The door into the region of light opened wider and wider for John Loughborough as he studied with the Bible class taught by John Andrews. Before a week had passed, he understood the Seventh-day Adventist teaching on the two-horned beast, the third angel's message, and the mark of the beast in Revelation 13 and 14. The young man had made up his mind to keep the Sabbath of the fourth commandment, but he did not tell any of his friends of his decision until he was sure he could give a good answer to all objections. He had appointments already made for three weeks in outlying churches, but on the fourth Sabbath after hearing the message he took his stand publicly with the Mount Hope Avenue group for the Bible Sabbath.

It was here at this time that Loughborough first met Elder James White and his wife, Ellen. They had been traveling with their horse and carriage for about three months, going as far as Bangor, Maine. They had held meetings and visited scattered Sabbath-keepers along the way.

From the day that John Loughborough first saw Mrs. White in vision, he was interested in learning more about her and the messages God sent through her. In answer to his many questions, he was given her book Christian Experience and Views. Imagine his delight when, on reading an account of her first vision, he found the answer to the question that had been troubling him: Was "the midnight cry" from heaven, or was it merely the invention of fanatical men, as some believed? This is a portion of what he read in the book:

"I raised my eyes, and saw a straight and narrow path, cast up high above the world. On this path the Advent people were traveling to the city, which was at the farther end of the path. They had a bright light set up behind them at the beginning of the path, which an angel told me was the midnight cry. This light shone all along the path and gave light for their feet so that they might not stumble." -- Early Writings, p. 14.

As Loughborough read the account of this first vision and learned that it was given only two months after the day of expectation passed, he said to himself, "This is a message from Jesus, our great High Priest. It is sent from heaven to cheer His disappointed people."

John Loughborough made his first trip to Michigan in May, 1853. He attended a conference in Jackson, Michigan, in June, where he joined a group of workers who were traveling with Elder and Mrs. White. Elder White was impressed with John's preaching, a fact that was noted in an editorial in the Review and Herald: "Brother J. N. Loughborough preached twice, with clearness, much to the edification of the brethren."

The conference held in Jackson, Michigan, June 3 to 5, laid plans for advance among the believers. In the Review and Herald of June 23, 1853, Elder White wrote:

"At this meeting a mission to Wisconsin and Illinois was considered. Brn. J. N. Loughborough and M. E. Cornell decided to go in company, with private conveyance. Necessary means to help them to their field of labor were raised at once. We also furnished them with a full supply of tracts, which they will sell to those who can pay, and give to the worthy poor. . . It is of little use for brethren to fly from place to place, and spend but a few hours or days at each. . . These brethren design spending months in the West."

The two pioneering ministers separated from the main company of workers and traveled by horse and carriage to Grand Rapids, Michigan, where they held evangelistic services the following Sabbath and Sunday. Early Monday morning they started for Grand Haven, on the shore of Lake Michigan, for they planned to take the steamer across the lake to Illinois. Thinking that they would be able to make the drive in a few hours, they took only a small lunch with them. It was some forty miles, however, and the travelers became very hungry. Imagine their delight when on their journey they found the ground covered with wintergreen plants. They gathered berries by handfuls and satisfied their hunger.

That night they lodged at a hotel in Grand Haven, and the next afternoon drove the horse and carriage onto a steamer. What a time they had with the horse! He was in terror from the noise of the engines and the shrieking of the whistle. He neither ate nor slept during the twenty hours they were on the steamer.

Finally they reached the west shore of Lake Michigan, at the prairie town of Chicago. There were no paved streets, and the mud was a foot deep. With some difficulty the horse managed to pull the carriage the half mile to higher ground, where the men unharnessed him and let him feed on prairie grass. After that he was ready for his nose bag of oats.

While the horse was eating, the two men sat down on the grass to plan their tour. They had the names of Sabbath-keepers and Review subscribers in Illinois and Wisconsin whom they desired to visit. For two days they traveled the country roads over open prairie from Chicago to Alden, Illinois, before they came to the first two families on their list.

It was Friday afternoon when they reached the home of the Chapmans, one of the two families with whom they planned to spend the weekend. Before the travelers arrived they found a patch of ripe wild strawberries. They ate what they could and then filled a twelve-quart water bucket. These berries furnished them and the families who entertained them with a real treat during their three-day visit.

For months these two earnest gospel messengers traveled from farm to farm and from settlement to settlement in Illinois and Wisconsin, seeking for those who believed in Christ's coming. They were encouraged to hold fast to God's promises and to prepare to meet their Savior. The ministers also instructed the people in the third angel's message.

John Loughborough saw some of the unique advances made by Sabbath-keepers during his lifetime. As the believers grew in numbers the matter of housing them for public meetings became a problem. When someone suggested tents, Mrs. White approved the plan. Through solicitation from a few men of means two hundred dollars was collected, with which a sixty-foot tent was purchased in Rochester, New York. The tent was pitched on a vacant lot in Battle Creek.

Loughborough preached at the first two meetings in this tent, and afterward Elder White recommended his ordination. He was only twenty-two years old, and the first man to receive ordination in what was later to be known as the Seventh-day Adventist Church. At this time the tithing system had not been inaugurated, and the workers received no dependable wages. When there was money in the tent fund, the workers would allow themselves a wage of three or four dollars a week to help pay the living expense of their families.

Much prayer and faith were needed by the ministers and their patient self-sacrificing wives and children at home. They often skimped and sacrificed that the few dollars their husbands sent them at irregular intervals might go as far as possible.

One day, while discussing ways and means of advancing the gospel work, Elder White said, "I think, Brother John, that if our books were offered to the public in connection with our preaching, the people would be willing to buy, and to pay a small price for them, and that would enable us to publish much more literature than we are now doing."

The alert young preacher answered, "I will try it." So at one meeting the tracts were displayed on the speaker's stand and offered for sale. At the close of the sermon many persons came forward and purchased them. At that time a complete set of all Adventist literature published, including tracts and one paper-covered book, could be purchased for 35 cents. One man laid down an extra coin, after paying for his tracts, stating that he was making a contribution to help defray the expenses of the tent. Others followed his example, and when the ministers counted the money, they found they had eighteen dollars.

By midsummer of 1855 there were in various States of the Union five large tents, each requiring the services of two ministers and a tent master to conduct meetings. In the fall, when cold weather came on, the tents were rolled up and stored in barn lofts until the following spring. Whenever the workers could earn some money on weekdays, they would put their earnings together in a common fund and draw from it for personal expenses.

During the summer of 1865 Elder Loughborough labored for two months in Iowa. Of his labors there he wrote: "First-day I preached twice to attentive congregations, and then returned sixteen miles to Waterloo with Brother Jackson, and had a meeting from nine o'clock p.m. till four the next morning, on matters of difficulty in the church. . . . After getting four hours sleep, I returned on Monday, sixteen miles to La Porte, and spent the evening till ten o'clock conversing with those who wished to know something of the history of the rise of the third angel's message. . . .

"Tuesday, August 8, traveled by stage thirty-five miles over very bad roads to Blairstown, where I found I must remain till the next morning before I could take the cars. Here I had no place to stop but a small country tavern, and that was nearly filled with drunken hogdrovers. They caroused all night and had three regular fist fights before midnight. I got no rest of any consequence that night. The next morning, took the cars and rode seventy-five miles to Nevada. Here I found no food fit for a human being to eat, but I did the best I could, and started on for Fort Des Moines, by stage thirty-five miles. It was one o'clock the next night before I reached that place. The roads were in such a terrible state that it took us five hours to accomplish the first ten miles of the journey; and all the stages on the route that day were finally abandoned, and the passengers taken through by private conveyance. The next morning I arose at seven, and tried to make out a breakfast at the Western Tavern, where hog's grease was the predominating article."

In the midst of this itinerary Loughborough was called back to Battle Creek because of the illness of James White. Both he and Elder White were advised to spend some weeks at a health resort at Dansville, New York, for Loughborough was much worn from his strenuous labors.

"Has no one any impressions of duty relative to the California field?" asked James White at the sixth annual session of the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists, which opened at Battle Creek, May 12, 1868, with 250 ministers and workers in attendance. J. N. Andrews, who was president of the General Conference that year, had been calling on the various ministers to state the particular field where they felt impressed that the Lord would have them labor during the coming year.

For months Elder Loughborough had been thinking about going to California. In the daytime he thought about California, and at night he dreamed of the West. He believed that God was leading him to consider laboring in that field. When Elder White asked for someone who would go to California, John arose and said that he felt impressed that God was calling him to go. There were expressions of thankfulness in many parts of the room -- thankfulness that someone had volunteered to go to that "faraway" mission field.

On the last day of May, as the Review and Herald was going to press, Elder White sat down and wrote this notice for the paper:

"After much prayer and counseling with fellow laborers, Elders Loughborough and Bourdeau decided to leave in a short time on a mission to California. They now design to take with them a new tent, in which they can hold meetings in that climate eight or nine months in the year." Elder White also appealed for one thousand dollars with which to pay the traveling expenses of the missionaries and to purchase the tent.

The Loughboroughs and Bourdeaus sailed from New York, June 24, 1868, on a small steamer, the Rising Star. Delmer Loughborough was three and a half years old. His own mother, Mary, had died in Battle Creek, June 24, 1867. The boy now had a stepmother, for Loughborough had married Maggie Newman in Victor, New York, in the month of June.

After a rough voyage of ten days the Rising Star docked one Friday morning at Aspinwal (now Colon), a little town on the east coast of the Isthmus of Panama. As soon as the boat stopped pitching and tossing, the sick passengers began to feel better. The missionaries gathered on deck and sang the hymns they loved, while the other passengers listened and cheered the singers.

Soon they were aboard a little train, traveling at the speed of thirteen or fourteen miles an hour. A delightful shower of rain was falling, which cooled the air and made the trip across the isthmus a pleasant one. From the car windows they could see many kinds of tropical trees that were new to them. Lemons, limes, and oranges were growing luxuriantly. Growing pineapples, bananas, mangoes, and coconuts were a thrilling sight to the strangers.

Before sundown the party were settled in their cabins on the steamer The Golden City and were ready for the Sabbath. The ship lay at anchor all the next day. Sunday morning the passengers were awakened by the firing of a cannon, which was the signal that in thirty minutes they would set sail for San Francisco. The Golden City was larger than the Rising Star. Her cabins, comfortable and roomy, were in the center of the vessel, where the rocking motion was least felt. The Pacific was calm, and the weather warm and balmy.

At ten o'clock the following Sabbath morning, July 18, The Golden City docked at San Francisco. The missionary party hurried to the St. John home on Minna Street, where they found the small company of Sabbath-keepers happy to see them and glad to hear the message they brought. "Our souls were refreshed," wrote Loughborough, "as this was the first meeting which we had had the opportunity to attend since leaving Rochester."

The two ministers went to look for a vacant lot on which to pitch the meeting tent. They found a suitable lot in the city, but the owner wanted forty dollars a month rent for the use of it. Never before had they paid out cash for a site on which to erect a gospel tent. Prices in San Francisco seemed very high to them, and they had little money with which to begin work. They received a letter from Ellen G. White in regard to the different economic conditions in the West. Her instruction was: "You cannot labor in California as you did in New England. Such strict economy would be considered 'penny-wise' by Californians. Things are managed there on a more liberal scale. You will have to meet them in the same liberal spirit, but not in a spendthrift manner.

Thinking it might be better to begin their meetings elsewhere, the men prayed earnestly that God would lead them to the right place. On July 27 a Mr. Hough, from the town of Petaluma, fifty miles to the north, called at the St. John home and invited the ministers to bring the tent to his town.

At one of the weekly prayer meetings conducted by the group at Petaluma, the coming of these ministers had been made the subject of special prayer. On the following night Mr. Wolf, another member of the group, had dreamed of being in the open country on a dark night. He had seen two men kindling a fire, and had recognized them as ministers. Soon the fire had burned brightly and lighted the surrounding country. Then, in his dream, he had seen some men try to put the fire out by throwing brush and bunches of grass on it, which of course made it burn all the brighter. Then he had seen the two ministers lighting another fire, and the enemies had tried to extinguish it too. At last they had five fires burning brightly. The man who had had the dream seemed to recognize the ones who were trying to put out the fires as ministers of established churches. He heard one of them remark, "It is of no use; let them alone. The more we try to put out the fires, the brighter they burn." Also he had heard someone state that the ones who were lighting the fires were the two evangelists who were coming with the tent.

The two missionaries thanked God for answering their prayer. The next day they went up to Petaluma to see the people who had invited them there. When Mr. Hough met them at the station, he said, "You will stop at my house tonight, but it is arranged for you to take dinner at Mr. Wolf's. I will go with you there, and come for you after dinner." Mr. Wolf had asked that the men be brought to his house, as he wanted to see them himself and be sure they were the same men he had seen in the dream. When he saw them coming with Mr. Hough he said, "Wife, there they are; those are the identical men I saw in the dream."

The story of evangelism in California and on the West Coast is full of similar episodes showing God's leading of these early pioneers of the message. Opposition naturally arose, yet it seemed only to add fuel to the rapidly spreading flames of gospel truth. The account of the establishment of meeting houses and new Sabbath-keeping companies was full of manifest providences.

In February, 1878, a group of Sabbath-keepers who had migrated from California to Nevada called for a mission in that State. Mr. Loughborough responded to the call, baptizing the first Adventist candidates in Nevada, three persons, at St. Clair Station. He found ten Sabbath-keepers, and as the result of meetings the number was doubled. These not only met Mr. Loughborough's expenses, but purchased a tent, which was used during the season. At the end of this season Mr. Loughborough organized the Nevada Conference, with himself as president. There were at that time forty-five Sabbath-keepers. At the time of organization, February 24, 1878, the cost of the tent and all expenses for the season were paid, and there was fifty dollars in the treasury.

At a General Conference Committee meeting June 27, 1878, it was recommended that a mission be established in England immediately, and that J. N. Loughborough be the man to take charge. At the General Conference session that fall a vote was taken reaffirming the action of June. Mr. Loughborough and his wife accepted the responsibility. They arrived in Boston on December 16, expecting to sail on the ship Homer of the Warren line. On arriving at the ship, the workers were denied passage by the captain. The agent for the company said he did not know the reason for this, inasmuch as passengers were usually carried on the ship. So he secured passage for them on the Nevada, sailing from New York the next day, without further expense to themselves. They had a safe and prosperous passage. The ship Homer, on which they had planned to sail, was never heard from again. It is supposed it foundered in a storm. By this act of divine providence Mr. Loughborough and his wife were spared to the cause of God for many years.

In England Mr. Loughborough faced a much more difficult field than California. He began meetings in a hall in Southampton early in 1879. After fifteen lectures he discontinued the meetings because of his inability to secure the privilege of holding Sunday meetings. In the spring he laid plans to start tent meetings. A large number of people gave evidence of their interest in the project by subscribing small amounts of money. Some gave the proceeds of flower sales. A friend, hearing of the need, gave fifty dollars, and the tentmaker agreed to discount the price seventy-five dollars and also gave a fifteen-foot British flag to serve as an ornament for the top of the tent.

The lectures began with an audience of six hundred on Sunday, May 18, 1879. Mr. Loughborough considered this the official beginning of his ministry in England. The season proved very unfavorable for tent work, for from May 18 until July 4 twenty-four consecutive hours had not passed without rain. At that time the tent was beginning to mildew, and Mr. Loughborough was fearful that it would not be usable another season. J. N. Andrews helped somewhat during this first great effort, but failing health prevented his giving vigorous aid. A great deal of literature was distributed, and house-to-house work went forward untiringly. Nevertheless, this meeting, probably the longest held by Seventh-day Adventists up to that time, closed August 17 on account of the continuous rain and cold weather.

Mr. Loughborough then rented a large building known as Ravenwood in which to continue his meetings, and this became the first official headquarters of the Seventh-day Adventists in England. The structure had seventeen rooms in addition to a meeting hall. It served as a book depository and as a home for the workers and one layman's family. In one of the lower rooms Mr. Loughborough constructed a portable baptistry, and in it the first six converts were immersed on February 8, 1880.

In the summer of 1882, in response to an urgent request that he visit J. N. Andrews at Basel, Switzerland, to see if anything could be done to relieve him, Mr. Loughborough made the journey. At that time, as a result of prayer and good care, Mr. Andrews seemed to be getting better.

In the fall of 1881 Mr. Loughborough was asked to come to America, attend the General Conference, and take back with him to England a force of workers who might be trained in the work, so that he could return again to labor in America. This request came on such short notice that money from America could not be obtained in time to buy the ticket and at the same time leave enough money to carry on the work during his absence. The matter was laid before the Lord in prayer, and as a result, on the morning of his departure two letters came bearing the necessary money. In one instance a man paid his tithe six weeks early because he was impressed of the need. In another, a man not of our faith said, "I feel impressed that it is my duty to send you five pounds [twenty-five dollars] to aid in your work." Thus came a direct answer to prayer, and Mr. Loughborough went on his way with a consciousness of God's blessing.

On his return from Europe Mr. Loughborough, as a representative of the General Conference, visited the camp meetings on the Pacific Coast in company with Mrs. E. G. White and her son William.

In 1887 he returned once more to the field of his early labors in the West and was elected president of the California Conference. This conference was a large one at that time, supporting several camp meetings each year. He retained this position several years. In 1890 there came from the press, The Rise and Progress of Seventh-day Adventists, the first history of the Seventh-day Adventist denomination.

During the nineties he served as a member of the General Conference Committee, and for a time was superintendent of District Number Five of the North American field, which roughly corresponded to our present Southwestern Union Conference with the addition of the States of Kansas, Missouri, Colorado, and Arizona. His headquarters was at Topeka, Kansas.

In 1898 he laid down General Conference burdens and returned to California, where he spent the remainder of his life. In 1905 he issued a revised and enlarged edition of his denominational history, entitled The Great Second Advent Movement.

In 1908, at the age of seventy-six, he began a tour around the world, visiting the principal centers of the Seventh-day Adventist work. He traveled thirty thousand miles by water and six thousand miles by land. This closed his active service except for an occasional trip to a camp meeting or a General Conference session, or to take up his pen to write reminiscences of bygone days. He made his home with his daughter, Mrs. J. J. Ireland, at Lodi, California. When she and her husband were called to Washington, D.C., Elder Loughborough's health was failing, and he spent his last years in the St. Helena Sanitarium, where he passed away peacefully on April 7, 1924, at the ripe old age of ninety-two. His funeral was held in the St. Helena church, which was one of the first churches he had raised up in California more than fifty years before.

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