My printing business did not pay its own expenses at first,
and for several years after it began to yield a profit, the profit was
required for new presses, new type, or had to lie dead in the shape of
increased stock of publications. And I had no income from property. Yet
in every case when we seemed to be reduced to extremities, supplies came
from some quarter or other. Sometimes I knew the hand by which
assistance was sent, but at other times my benefactors remained unknown.
There was one good Christian, John Donaldson, who was always ready with
his help. He not only aided me by many gifts, but busied himself to
induce his friends to send mo aid. He gave the first subscription
towards a steam press; and when the press was bought, he sent a sum to
purchase the first load of coals to get up the steam, to put the press
in motion.
On one occasion, while I was lecturing in the South, nearly two hundred
miles away from home, I failed to receive the supplies I expected from
the agents for my publications, and my family seemed likely to be out of
provisions before I could send them help. My wife and children had begun
to feel uneasy and afraid. That day a man came up to the door with a
cart-load of provisions. "Does Mr. Barker live here?" said the man to my
eldest son, who had answered the knock at the door.
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