by Alice Belle Garrigus


From this time, I learned something of the meaning of those words: "I called him alone and blessed him." Still, I was not entirely alone, for Bro. and Sr. Fowler, who had been used in bringing me into the sanctified life, were closely associated with me.

Emptied from one vessel to another seemed to be my experience, for the time came, when God led me away from the old scenes and field of labor, up to New Hampshire. This is called Switzerland of America, and no wonder.

Not far from the White Mountains is the town of Rumney, surrounded by mountains. In this little lovely town there lived a company of God's children, calling themselves "First Fruit Harvesters."

Providentially, I heard of them, and that they wanted workers to hold meetings in different towns. I learned they took the Word of God as their creed and believed in letting the Holy Ghost lead their services. This please me and I sought an interview with Pastor J.A. Wright the leader. It was arranged that I should come to "Immanuel Home," and from there go forth to other places.

I have very pleasant memories of those six years, holding meetings in school houses and halls in various towns. One es- pecially bright one was of a revival at a place called "Toad Hollow," not a very aristocratic name but a place where God chose to graciously pour out His Spirit. The year before, I had held meetings in the same town, with apparently no success. Though some were professing Christians, it was impossible to move them and I had to do the singing and praying and preaching. The last night of my stay I entreated those who believed they were saved, to get down with me and pray for the unsaved. No one came forward and the meeting close in apparent failure.

I suppose there is no such thing as failure when we do our best for God.

A young married woman had attended the services, was a professing Christian but did not have the courage to take her stand. She went home from that last meeting, and without removing her wrap, went down on her knees and told the Lord she would not get up till she had a different experience. By morning she had one, and from that day God made her an intercessor. She spent days and nights in travail of soul for the lost around her, and when I returned a year later the ground was well watered and there was a glorious harvest. I went in the fall for a Sunday service and did not get away till June.

In the spring the roads were as bad, they gave up a dance, but our meeting went on every night. All though the winter, the woods resounded with songs, as happy groups plowed their way through the snow. One of their favourites was:

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