LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. PT?7 ii^ap. ©np^rig]^ !fti UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST; How AN Inexperienced Young Man Finds His Occupation. ReminisGenGes and Sketclies .of Real Life,. ^ BY A TEXAS Preacher NASHVILLE, TENN.: SOUTHERN METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE. 1884. ^^v K*i^ - PUBLISHED IN THK INTEREST OF THE SOUTH-WESTERN UNIVERSITY. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, BY WILLIAM ALLEN, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. PREFACE This volume is small, and will therefore take but an evening of precious time to peruse it. Let it have but a fair chance, and then approve or condemn, as is right. It is given to the public as truth, and not as fiction. Take the disguise out of it, and much of it could be established by living witnesses. The plan adopted is this: The author had been in the West from the time he was verging into manhood, but after a number of years returned to visit his mother. She requested him to give a narrative of his life and experience in the West. This little volume is the narrative as he related it to her. An understanding of this plan is necessary to proper appreciation. The Authok. July 12, 1883. TO TIE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER, whose virtuous training has influenced my foot- steps through all the changing fortunes of my life. The Author. ONTENTg. PAUE A Visit Back — Not the Old Homestead — The Meeting — Ques- tions 11 Mother's Answer — Bequest 14 Beginning of the Narration — Heroism of Leaving Home 17 The Novelty in Things to an Inexperienced Boy 19 Loneliness and its Effect — Courage 20 Views of Mankind as a Herd 21 Old Letters Brought to Light 22 Letter on Kansas's Political State 23 Remarks • 25 Letter on Indian Life and Character 27 Eemarks 29 In Texas — At a Loss — Discouragements 30 Green from the States — Want of Experienc-e 31 My First Speculation — Land Certificates — Fraud 33 Turned Pedagogue — Whisky 34 The Acquaintance and History of Two Young Doctors 36 How Innocency is Taken Out of the Human Heart 38 A Scene on the Square Around my Court-house School-room . . 39 About Dancing 41 A Plan to Kegain my Ix)st Fortune 45 How I Made Atonement for Being a Partisan 47 Disgust — Musings — Looking to the Legal Profession 48 Finding at Last my Proper Life Business 51 Letters on the Ministry to my Mother 55 Mother's Reply 57 Reflections on a Call to the Ministry 59 The Troubles and Emlxirrassmeuts of Starting 60 (7) 8 CONTENTS. PAGB My First Sermon 62 Going to my First Conference 64 At Conference— A Sketch 68 In the Conference-room 71 The Outlook Among the Brethren 72 Reading the Appointments 73 My Assignment — Sorrow — Incidents 74 The Surprise of the Night 77 My Bereaved Sister 79 Horse Swapping 81 How I Finally Got Mounted for the Mission Work 84 On the Missions — My New Title 86 My First Sermon on the Missions — Singing — "Brother Jesse" — Frontier Meeting-house 87 The Evening Service and the Fruits it Bore 89 Area of the Missions — Meeting with the Senior Preacher 92 Character of the People 93 Expectation Blasted — Disgust 94 Buncombe County Illustrated — Further Comment 97 Brother Jones Again — My Lesson from Sister Jones 101 An Illustrative Anecdote 106 A Portion of Country Described 107 Coffee— How I Remedied an Evil 108 Meeting with an Old Greek Grammar 110 Descriptions — Master Payton Ill Preaching in a Frontier Dwelling-house — How the People go to Preaching on the Frontier 118 Leave Hamilton's for the "West Fork of the Trinity River — Luck of the Night 120 The Evil of Dancing 127 Snuffing the War-breeze 130 Meeting with Universalism 132 The Recount 136 An Old Lady who had seen Better Days 137 CONTENTS. 9 PAGE Isaiah xxviii. 20 139 The Unlucky Night 141 The Cyclone 144 On an Indian Trail 148 The Brother who was Going to Make me a Nice Present 151 Out and In the Compass of the Gospel 155 The Tongue — James iii. 3-8 157 Necessity the Mother of Invention 160 A Singular Phenomenon 163 Mischievous Turn to Call the People Out 166 The Strait of the Young Preacher in Administering a Keproof 169 The Stiff Preacher 172 How the Young Preacher got Cheated out of a Sermon 173 Some Disadvantages 177 The Ungoverned Family 179 Dismissing the Missions, etc 184 Advice of an Old Preacher— Going to Conference Again 189 At Conference Again 191 Beading the Appointments 193 Thoughts— Kest— Start for the Station 195 Observations on the Way 197 Impressions of the Place > 199 First Sermon in the Station 201 Fishing and Fishers 202 Hon. William L. Yancey 205 Anchored in a Lake 207 My Last Days in the Station 210 « •^FIYE YEARS IN THE lEST.-<- A Visit Back — Not the Old Homestead — The MeE ting — Q UES TIONS. WELL, here I am after a long absence ; not, how- ever, among the oaks and walnuts of the old homestead, yet, nevertheless, in a place pleasant enough — even in the presence of her to whom I owe a debt of gratitude I shall never be able to pay. "Why, here in this beech-forest on Kentucky's soil, and on the banks of Green River, is a pleasant place; yet I see none of the traces of the old homestead outlined here. I do not see the brook in whose clayey bank I used to dig my springs, build my dams, and erect my corn-stalk flutter-mills. I do not see the old apple-orchard in which I passed so many frolicksome days, and in which the cat-bird sung for me at early morn, A thousand things are missing here, but one is present who more than compensates for them all. And well do I remember now that not for the sake of oak and walnuts, not for the old brook with its clayey banks, springs, and mills, not for the song of cat-birds at early morn, not for the solitudinous note of the whip-poor-will in dusky eve, have I returned from the far West. No ; I came with a mind more appreciative and an affection more dear. I came to see again the face of her who gave me birth; to press iigain those hands that did so fondly (11) 12 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. caress me in the innocency of my cradle- life; to press tenderl}^ with true filial affection, a kiss once more on those lovely lips now growing thinner and more tremulous with age. Time works his changes. This is another home- stead, yet it has a fragrance sweet. It is a spot most dear and sacred. Mother, is that you standing at the door waiting and anxiously looking for your long absent son. Yes, I know you now. I saw you take a step. It was a limping one. I understand it, for I remember well, long years ago, when on returning from church, whither to go was your delight, a fall from your horse laid the foundation for that limp- ing gait. And you can remember how by your side I held you fast when mounted again, and how with slow pace we at last gained our cottage home. Many a pain went through my young heart then, while trudging along I looked up into your pale face and read your sufferings in blue, quivering lips. Driver, halt! Let me leave your conveyance and reverently afoot approach the form I see meeting me yonder. Mother, these caresses are not signs of mental weakness either in thee or myself. They are but miniature outcroppings of that godly nature re- maining yet in our race, and not left behind in Eden's bower when man was driven out in trans- gression. I see thy form now a little bent, and thy lace more marked by the ravages of time; thy voice now not so full in tone as once it was; but on thy brow I read more than the serenity and calm resignation of other years. When I balance all things, I cannot sa}^ that thou hast lost more FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 13 than thou hast gained. These ravages of time marked on thy face are not abrupt and angular, but rest in beautiful curving lines. These are j;ist such as God loves, for even the revolving spheres under his appointment do make continually curving cir- cuits. There is a background in thy expression which time has never touched. It touches in me the same chord that keeps yet alive my youthful admiration. I find thee now as beautifully fair as when sixteen years ago I left our old hearth-stone to try my fortunes in the far West, and among stran- gers. But come now, tell me, have you not been think- ing I had forgotten you? Have you not lost pleas- ure and passed hours in sadness by my long absence? Were those others I left behind with you enough for your comfort? or would you in the twilight of the evening catch yourself looking toward the West thinking of me? Did you see a vacant chair around the old hearth-stone when in the shades of the even- ing the family circle was formed, and each tyro for himself, before taking up books and papers, narrated the battle of the day ? When the merry laugh went round, would the silence at my old chair show that joy could have been more complete? Did brothers and sisters often mention my name? Did they often go and get the picture I left behind, and with cher- ished memory talk of me? Did you ever observe marked attention in the younger ones when on oc- casion you would narrate to them some of the inci- dents and early battles of my life? Above all, be- fore I left for the West had you discovered princi- 14 FIVE YEARS IN TIIE WEST. pies in me worthy to be cherished, which you could call on the younger ones to emulate, and for the sake of which your soul could rest in hope? Mother's Answer — Request. "My dear boy" — this is my old familiar style, and it is to-day fresh and green in my memory — "your questions remind me of earlier days when I was a young and happy mother; not that I am unhappy now, but different from those days, for my little boys were around me then. Those days, I might say, were my happiest. Questions then, as from you now, fell thick and fast from the lips of my little boys. Though I did my best to satisfy every inquir- ing mind, yet the ingenuity of sharp little wits taxed my understanding to a degree that I waived many a question through the business of the day. " But let me say, my dear son, you know not the depth of a mother's love. It is of its own kind, and peculiarly devoted to its object. Its existence brings up not only the memory of the object, but holds, as painted on canvas, the image of the one she fondl}^ •cherishes. It is but a speck of that godly nature acquired in her high origin, and left her yet on this stormy and wave-dashed beach, not alone for her own comfort, but to use as a means of giving the best character to her ofispring. To disrobe her nat- ure of an element so embellishing, so noble, would be to leave her little urchin boy-plant to be bruised and battered by the rough winds of sin. It would lay the foundation of the future man in the sloughs and baser elements of a sinful nature, and under- FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 15 mine the refinement and moral bearing of society. It would open the flood-gates of vice, and send a corrupting, blighting tidal-wave of moral ruin that in aspect would make earth the counterpart of the world of woe. If the intellectual and moral eleva- tion of the human race is attributable to one thing especially above all other earthly things, it is this God-given heritage — a mother's love. This is the spring that moves her to protect her helpless oft- spring. Yet this is the least view of it. The grand- est field of its operation consists in looking into and providing for the proper manhood life of the little boy at her knee. Hence, if she is properly educated, or if her thoughts run in the proper channel, she studies and untiringly labors to build in him a foun- dation of integrity and true morality. "A mother's love is not abated by space or the lapse of time. The instinctive races, or lower ani- mals, that have minds which cater to mere animal wants— that are incapable of rising above appetite and selfishness, that lack a moral crown, the requi- site of an accountable being — may and do forget their offspring after they are weaned away; but a mother's love for her darling boy burns with a glow of unabated interest through life. It is one of those attributes of her spiritual nature which can never die. "Again, I have had many occasions of observing a kindred element in the breasts of sisters and broth- ers you left behind with me. Often in my own young days I have felt the affection that naturally exists between brothers and sister; but I have 16 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. learned more of this principle from observation than from personal experience. I have often observed on wintry night, when the winds howled wildly round, yet all whom you left behind comfortably encircling the old hearth-stone — lulled to silence by their own meditations, apparently thinking of the burning wood or the glowing coal — there would be a thought reaching far beyond this scene; for just on such an occasion some one would ask of the brother now gone to the West. Then would come up anew the incidents of his life. No; your name, my dear boy, was not forgotten by the fond ones left behind. It was cherished by brothers and sisters, and fondly remembered by a loving mother. The books you loved most were handled and talked of; the anecdotes you used to tell and tales you nar- rated were repeated. *' We cherished no thought that you had forgotten us and home. We felt that the sacredness of the spot was too dear, and the tie of kindred too strong, to indulge such an illusion. Home, home — we felt there was no place like home. Your letters breathed this spirit. We felt that we could more easily for- get you than that you could forget us; yet we knew we could not forget you. "But, come now, son, tell me something of the struggle you had in parting with us and in saying farewell. Tell me of the times you have had in the West. Surely now, by this time — a life varied as yours has been — you have made a little sketch of history to which I can listen with much interest. You have written us some things, yet there appears FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 17 to be about you a novelty that makes us anxious to hear." Beginning of the Narration — Heroism of Leaving Home. "Mother, I fear to answer your questions will prove to you a fatiguing task, and tax your patience. If I should tell it all, the sun would sink to rest more than once before my voice would be hushed in rest, having found an end to my thoughts on life's battle and what it is. I shall only take up those parts which I think will interest you most, and on w^hich you can exercise patience. At your request I will begin ; nevertheless, if you grow w^eary before I have reached the end, I pray you give me a token, and I will postpone my train of thought till another day. You are growing old now, and should have your proper rest; 3'et I remember when I was 3^oung in years, and had not yet engaged in life's big battle, you oft entertained us of evenings until the hour was late, and yet we never wearied as long as we could hear you talk. And while I hear you say those were among your happiest days, I say they would have been happy days indeed for me were it not for that delusive fancy in a boy that looks for true happiness only in the bearded man. This de- lusion, I suppose, will continue to exist, since the art which will take this conceit out of a boy, if ever known, is lost. " The heroism of my life appears to me to be more striking now than during the changing events o/ its history. How I found courage to leave the fam- 2 18 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. ily, and especially a mother whom I cherished in memory with the fondest affection, when my natnre seemed to revolt at the idea, is a problem not easily solved. I do not mean how some other boy merg- ing into manhood conld leave home; for, doubt- less, many a boy lives whose home environments would bring relief when broken ; but, knowing my own experience, wdien it choked my utterance, and seemed to break the currents of my flowing blood — when it seemed to be a revolution unnatural, tear- ing as it were flesh from flesh and heart from heart — I repeat, I have ever looked on it since as a prob- lem in m}^ own mind. But having obtained my own consent to go, leave home with all its fond endear- ments, and seek my fortune of life in the West, I resolved to fight the battle through. It was the first hard battle of my life. It was a struggle I have never desired to repeat. To this da}^, it gives me no pleasure to think of it; yet it is a part, even the beginning, of my independent history, and I have repeated the story of it to you because it comes first in this narration, and is therefore in order here. If I should recount all the battles of my life, and count out one that used me worst, this is the one I would select. It is not that my life has been with- out other battles, but it is by comparison to show the magnitude of this. You know how I gave the parting hand, though you never knew the struggle in my heart, and had it not been I am a son of thine I could never have displayed such moral heroism." FIVE YEARS IN THE AVEST. 19 The Novelty in Things to an Inexpebienced Boy. "But the scene of bidding adieu to loved ones, and leaving home, sweet home, became a thing of the past, as all things do, and I got fairly on my way. The gap between home and myself got wider and wider as the days passed by. Many things new to me now appeared, and my young mind feasted on these. !Every thing had a freshness and novelty to me, whose experience had never reached but a few miles beyond the borders of home-life. The novelty of the things I saw, all new to me — the rivers, steam- boats, railroads, cities with their din and business bustle, natural scenery, the beautiful and the sub- lime — gave me pleasure indescribable, and in some degree abated my thoughts of home, sweet home, and the loved ones there. In gradual turn, as I suppose, my face now began to grow bright again. While I indulged in thoughts of home with raptur- ous joy, I found that pleasures may arise from other sources than from home, sweet home. More than a thousand miles now had I traversed in saddle. The grand expanse of the West began to open on my vision. The world to me began to look larger. My vision was no longer checked as on Kentucky's soil, where the trees grow thick and tall, and where the hills are both short and steep ; but sweeping over high- rolling prairies with their long slopes, vision here is only brought to an end by the distant blue, dusky hue of sunset. Yet I thought if you could see only one sunset in the wilds of the West, it would be to you a charming vision. "But expatisive views and natural scenery are not 20 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. all that attracted my young mind then. The prairie abounds with inhabitants peculiarly its own; the deer and antelope in herds by scores; wild horses in herds here and there; buffalo in large herds spot the prairie dark like islands on the sea, or grazing in long dark lines, destroy the monotony of vision; the long-eared hare or buck-rabbit, or as the boys call it mule-ear, whose fleetness, when in health, is yet unknown; the stinging scorpion with verte- brated tail, whose favorite resort is under old rails and rocks, and whose most cultivated business is to w^arn you of his presence with most unpleasant sen- sations when you put your fingers just far enough under to turn the rail or raise the rock; the prairie dog whose chief companions are owls and rattle- snakes — with them is great concord, although the young marmot is a dainty morsel to either. And yet again, there are to be found the horned frog, which is rather a misnomer for lizard, as is plainly indi- cated both by its form and mode of traveling; the tarantula, or big spider, usually of slow, clumsy mo- tion, which carries its fangs carefully folded under- neath its body, and which are a quarter of an inch long; the centipede, that repulsive, crusty-looking creature, rightly named as far as the word goes, with every foot like a poisonous fang — a reptile that loves droughty w^eather and cracks in the ground." Loneliness and its Effect — Courage. ''But I must tell you that on many a night I felt the deep stillness of the solitude creep over me. Oppressing gloom would sometimes shadow me FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 21 around, so that I could not suppress the rising spirit of deep loneliness. Often then would I wish for sleep, for a night's rest always made me feel better. The solitude of the night, however, when among strangers, brought me no alarm; it only haunted me with the thought that this is not home. There was no sound of brother, no voice of a sister, no consoling presence of mother. The landscapes, for- ests, and wide, wide prairies, mapped on my vision, were all different to the old homestead and the scenery around. I love solitude sometimes, especi- ally when the circumstances of my life give me only a short ramble through its gloom. *'If I had indulged the thought, when weighed down by feelings of loneliness, that on the morrow I will direct my steed toward the East, I will give up other views of the West, I will seek my fortune of life around the old homestead, where I love its or- chard, meadows, and the shades of its locust-trees, then rest would have come uninvited, and sleep would have been balmy and refreshing. But this I could not do. I was full of a genuinely proud spirit. This is a heritage you gave me. I was not born a coward. I could not entertain a thought of abusing my noble heritage. I was, as I realized, out in the heat of life's battle, and I determined to play a part becoming a true soldier." .. Views of Mankind as a Herd. "The world, I found, was not as cold, selfish, and taciturn as I had suspected. Among men may be found the counterpart of the serpent, dog, hog, wolf, 22 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. fox, or bear. Bat these are exceptions to the gen- eral rule. They may in the main be avoided. Not- withstanding the complete ruin of the human heart b}^ original transgression, the impressive force of Christianity, both in the direct operation of the Spirit on man's nature and in forming the manners of society, the herd of mankind have much of kind- ness and sympath}'. These, however, do not stand out prominently to the view. They exist in a la- tent state, but are excited into action on all "proper occasions. The judgment of the world is that the traveler should be a gentleman. When he satisfies this judgment, he never wants for friends. There is a class of men whose hands are against every other man. All other men, as well as the traveler, are in danger from these. They are the wolf -fiends and prowling Bedouins — the curses to society, who with dark hearts, ruined moral natures, laboring under false ideas, set up the claim that the world owes them a living without work; and all this contrary to the revealed decree that man shall ' eat his bread in the sweat of his face.' " Old Letters Brought to Light. "If I remember rightly, I wrote you some letters on Kansas troubles, and then again some on Indian life and manners. Have the}^ been given to the waste-basket? or are they now on file somewhere? Not that they have merit or deserve immortality, do I ask; but by interluding a letter or two, lying as they do in the track of my narrative, it will, if they are read by some one else, give me a respite, after FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 23 which I promise you I will try and be more enter- taining. I used to keep my budget of compositions, my early literary triumphs, deep down in the old historic clock, which used to stand from floor to floor — a length prodigious in comparison with clocks now. But I do not see liiat long-time machine around anywhere. When I left, that budget was laid away carefully there. At some future time I may ask of that budget and of that clock, which was the great curiosity of my early boyhood. **Yes, here is a budget of letters you have care- fully kept. They contain incidents of my travels with my young attempts to philosophize on men and things. Thanks to you, brother Fielding, for looking them up. Why, they look a little musty now! It is the way they show their age. Every thing has its own way of telling how it has left the years behind. I observe when looking in a glass that time has marked the lines he intends to plow in my own face. Every year he intends to run the same lines, and every time he plows leave the fur- rows more distinctly marked. Why, these pages are sixteen years old! Then, time has plowed them sixteen times. This is enough to give them that dusky look they bear. But let us hear some of them read. Brother Fielding wdll please perform the pleasant task: Leavenavorth, Kansas, November, '50. My Dear Mother and Loved Ones at Home: I am here at an exciting season, and in the midst of an excited people. Kansas is not a pleas- ant country ; not even to the politically unconcerned. Every resident here is compelled to be a partisan. To be neutral is the worst course a citizen can take. He is then absolutely out of respect, and subject to 24 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. the abuse of both free-soilers and pro-slavery men. He must be some- thing ; for if manhood is in him, he evidently is something, and his sur- roundings compel him to let it out. It is sad to think of the political stew in this territory. I verily believe the spirit of party has gone fanatically wild out here. I regard that as the disease, and not an honest, virtuous concern for the negro. It is this that will yet ruin the nation. A man is happy out here prospectively. All depends on the re- sult of elections. There is but little honesty in these. The furor raging here indulges any thing that will secure success. The great- est man is he who is successful without counting modes. In the equal division of the parties, I shall count those the biggest rogues who carry it as a State. There is a sort of intuitive knowledge here of a man's politics. A man here is seldom asked for his politics, but is conversed with as though he is perfectly understood on these points. They locate the State of a man by his dress mainly, and in this they seldom make mistakes. When once the State of an immigrant or a traveler is located, he is approached as a Southern or Northern man in his political philos- ophy according to the political nature of the State from which he came. True, some of the States are considerably divided in political creed, yet the nature of immigration to this territory is of a kind that has very seldom brought Nortliern ideas from Southern States or Southern ideas from Northern States. I pass here as a Kentuck- ian; yet no one asks me, and yet again everybody regards me of pro-slavery principle. This all comes of the mixed suit you pre- pared me, and which I find pleasure in wearing out here. In poli- tics they go here by States. That is the rule. There are a few ex- ceptions. But woe to the poor fellow who stands an exception to the rule I It would have been better for him if he had never come out here. He is poor and friendless, and regarded as a traitor by one party, and lacks the confidence of the other. This territory, so far as I have seen, has a beautiful face. In its physical aspect it is as beautiful as one should desire. It has a prob- able future of wonderful growth in wealth and population. But it has a present imbittered by strife, and a population divided and full of treachery toward each other. I shall not remain here many days. Every thing seems to be on a war footing. Every day brings a his- tory of revenge, burning, bloodslied, and suffering. The luite that Inrks in many hearts here makes tliis a very unsafe country. Thoy FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 25 do many things here under the rule of lex talionis, which you know is both rude and uncivilized. Here in miniature form is playing that which is inevitably coming on us as a nation, unless the ques- tion of slavery is solidly settled. Would to God the authorities of the nation could see the rising storm, and drive back its force before it bursts with dread and maddening fury through all the States, and to the sorrow of many a heart. Your affectionate son, EEMAEKS. " This is a picture of Kansas's political state as it existed then, described as well as I could tell it now. While traveling there, the debris of many a house I saw, such as the fire would leave — many a family homeless and destitute. Here the battle be- tween the States began; for nearly all the States were represented in the contest that went on here. It was only an armistice from this tinae till '61. It was a smoldering, suppressed calm, awaiting the storm - clouds to gather more furiously, and the thunder-heads of war to grow large, that when they burst every dog of war might howl in echo until the drapery of sorrow about every hearth- stone should show the nation's gloom. The storm came, and blew in hate, blood, and murder till all fools satisfied their thirst — till it was thought better to be governed by reason than by passion. "But let us walk lightly among these dark shadows of the past. I hardly need mention the cold, mali- cious murder of Uncle John — that afiable Christian gentleman, your own brother — by the hands of those who should have been his friends; nor my nephew, and others who fell on Shiloh's field; nor another, who was dearer both to you and me. No, I need 26 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. not mention these; for I see the war-wind bearing on you now in these clays when your burden should be light. Once you owned servants whom you used kindly; I see none around you now. They are gone with the freedom they acquired through the strife. For these you received no compensation to enable you to procure the necessary help you need now in the decrepitude of age. That property you acquired through the sweat of your face, honestly, and under the protected law of the government. It is too much the fashion of governments to claim ex- emptions through war measures. This, however, cannot strengthen them; for such a policy as was adopted toward the South, instead of cementing the people as a whole, tended rather to alienate their af- fection. "A lost caus*e often carries down wnth it many just claims which ought to have been respected. How the nation shall atone for many of its deeds, and when the atonement shall be made, are questions locked up in the mysterious future, and known only unto God. x^tonements are sometimes made in the moral government of God when the primal causes that produced them have gone out of the memory of man. Small seeds, working through generations, after awhile often bring wonderful developments, operating as they do powerfully upon the reason of man. "But let these sad memories go to oblivion. Let us train our minds to look on the sunny side of things, for there is where our pleasure lies. Let us commit these thincrs to the all-wise Kuler of the uni- FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 27 verse, who can bring good ont of evil, and who, when let alone, doeth all things well. *^I fear, dear mother, my digression has not been as interesting as my narrative; yet it seemed natu- rally to grow out of the letter which has just been read. But here is another letter, on another sub- ject, with sentiment as pure as my young percep- tion could make it: CuLBERT Ferry, Ked River, Texas Line, December, '56. Dear Mother and Loved Ones at Home: I am now at the entrance to Texas. I have seen much more, which remains yet untold, than I can write you in one letter. I think I could now, if present with you, enliven the old family circle until a late hour with the stories and reminiscences of my travels. I will tell you in this only about the Indians. I am now leaving their territory, though I am not weary. I would like to remain awhile yet with them, the better to learn their manners. Let me see, I liave now been through the Del- awares, Shawnees, Pottawattamies, Senecas, Cherokees, Creeks, Chick- asaws, and Choctaws. What a list of names, some of you think; yet these are only a few of the many when we come to a general sum- ming up of all the tribes. I believe these, however, are the most cultivated of all the American Indians; yet their civilization is very small in comparison with the opportunities they have had. To evolve a genuine type of the civilian out of the red man will require a long period of time. The problem has to be added, subtracted, multiplied, and divided through several generations. They are constitutionally opposed to civilization. They embrace the philosophy, in its most emphatic sense, that tlie spontaneity of the earth answers every end of substance and happiness. They have no inclination to fell forests or till the soil ; to bridge rivers, build cities, and other industries. Tliey think these torment the brain and torture the body unnecessarily, and therefore tend to destroy that spontaneity which gives ease and comfort. I have no doubt that the advantages and treachery of the whites impeded their progress in civilization by destroying their confidence. If every man who treated with or administered to the Indians had been a Penn or an Eliot, they would have had more confidence in the white 28 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. race. Their progress in civilization and religion would consequently have been more rapid. As it is, their competition "svith the white race will ultimate in little else than extinction. I think the history they have made is worth preserving. If some one would dwell with these forest tribes awhile, and gather up their unwritten history as they hold it in tradition, I think it would make an exceedingly entertaining book. Their virtues have never been written. United States history is prejudiced against them. Tliey are known to be a treacherous people, it is true; but when they tell their own history the white race have nothing praiseworthy or that merits a boast in the comparison. It is strange to relate, yet some of these people have become wealthy — only just a few. They own slaves just the same as the whites. Some few, after so long a time, have opened farms, give considerable atten- tion to agriculture, and consequently have plenty around them. But as a rule they have the same rudeness in dress, and live by hunting and fishing, as when America was first discovered. Reticence is a marked feature in their character. They have been careless about learning English. I found a few wlio were pretty well educated, having attended our colleges. These are free to converse; yet even they take no pleasure in dwelling on the history of the tribes. On this subject they have little to say to the stranger. You may learn more of their history from the orations of Eed Jacket, Logan, and Osceola than as a stranger holding converse. Their ret- icence on the subject of their history, however, abates as the new- ness of the stranger grows old. Travelers are sometimes at a loss to find their way when travel- ing among these tribes for want of some English-speaking one. Should their eyes, however, fall on one of those sable sons of Africa, tliey need never fear. They can all speak English, and love it with a relish. They are a most accommodating people toward the trav- eler, and in affability try to show themselves superior to their red masters. They do not appear to be unhappy. Some of them told me of the life they once lived among the whites. Some came with their white masters, who concluded to live with the Indians; some were bought. They are all kindly treated. The native religion of these tribes, if they have any, is hard to find. They have a notion of a Great Spirit, at the head of both the physical and moral universe, wlio will see that ample provision is made in the future for all gomi Indians. They seem to lose sight of FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 29 bad Indians at death, and do not indulge in any dreamy speculations about their fate. They seem to forget such. They say nothing about them. Their code of morals and civil jurisprudence is that Indians should do right — love their friends, hate their enemies, cherish friendly deeds, and revenge 'wrongs. Outside of missionary operations, they have no public demonstrations in religion, no religious harangues, and of course no prayers, no churches. They give their consent to the Great Spirit. Their good actions all come out of this consent through the monitor within them. They live and die in faith, without doubting. When I come to Kentucky I will give you some sketches of personal experience with these red men. Your affectionate son, _ REMAEKS. " I am truly glad these letters have been preserved. These sketches of the subjects to which they per- tain speak my present convictions. They seem not to have been written with the excitement through the novelty of things that sometimes gives color to the truth. Now, by your cheery looks you seem not to have grown weary, though I feared the read- ing would tax your patience, since these letters I have found here on tile long since have been en- joyed by you and carefully stored away. I am glad you enjoyed the reading so much. I reckon it is because your long absent son has returned; or, if not, because they date a period of time near when your little boys were around your knee, could prat- tle, caper round in yard and orchard, which you say were among your most joyful days. And now me- thinks for these and other reasons you ibund a lei- sure hour to now and then read these and other let- ters I wrote you when far away. Then I am glad I wrote them, for it makes me- happy to know you 30 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. found pleasure in them. But now I will unwind my ball, or pick up my thread — not, however, like Theseus, the athlete, to enter a labyrinth, slay a dreaded beast, and by my thread find egress again. No, I have done no marvelous deed like that. Yet I trust I have spun a thread of life that will at least bring no pang to my heart nor yours while I follow the thread and put life under review again.'' In Texas — At a Loss — Discouragements. I found myself at last on Texas soil. 'Not in the pine-wood district of the eastern portion, but in the expansive prairie region, flivorable for large views, not only of the eye, but also of the mind. Here I felt that I was more out on an ocean sailing than at any period since I left "home, sweet home." I resolved to make Texas the State of my adoption. I might have remained in Kansas but for the political agita- tion in that territory, and, as I regarded, uncertainty in all things. What to do I knew not, yet do some- thing I must. I felt in me all the awkwardness of an inexperienced young man thrust out among strangers to learn a business or profession. Many a boy in the West, when all alone, right here has stumbled in the deliriousness of his own meditations. Many a man with his family around him, under sim- ilar circumstances has suffered such confusion that he retraced his steps, broken in fortune, to be among the same hills and beside the same brook he left awhile before. Such is life — the stream ebbs and flows, fortunes are sought and made; yet men go down the hill jolt- FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 31 ing and thumping, unable to check their course, wondering at every rock and acclivity why they started and whither they are going, until want echoes round that they have reached the broad plain from wdiich all beginnings start. Green from the States — Want of Experience. I realized the fact that was more than once sounded in my ears — ^that I was '^ green from the States J' Every- body seemed to know more than I did — even the cow- boys, whose ambition did not reach higher than a pair of bell spurs, Mexican hat, pitching pony, and a lariat. In conversation I did not use much of their rancho idiom; and my language, though in plain English and of grammatical structure, was a speech so tangled and misunderstood b}^ them that it often elicited a look from them that struck the veritable "green- ness" in me of which I was so unmercifully accused. In those days if any one, soberly raised at home and inexperienced, could withstand the batteries of humor in the West with unblenched look, he was certainly a marvel to the people there. They would call him "green from the States,^' and if he was not satisfied they would prove it to him. They would have him holding a sack for snipes, roasting the bone of a wild turkey's leg for the dainty marrow it contains, believing the distant crowing of prairie chickens to be the cry of mourn- ers for their dead, or in some way or by some strat- egy have him going through the most dreaded or- deal of a green, inexperienced boy from the States — mounted on and exercised by a flank-girded pitch- 32 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. ing pony that never knows when to stop till the girt breaks, w^hich you may rely on never happens if they have the fixing of it. ISTothing can compensate for the inexperience of a young man seeking his fortune in the West. He should know how much confidence to place in his fellow-kind — some place too much, some not enough. The error of losing confidence in all, because of the treachery of a few, is a bad philosophy to adopt in life's course. I know nothing more unbecom- ing, that sets a man more ofi:' to himself, than to be soured with everybody. There are good, honest people in the world, and they are to be found every- where. Launched out and inexperienced as I was, it was my fault to believe too much that fell from the lips of every one. The people all appeared honest to me in the country I left. I regarded them only as types of mankind generally. There were men whom I should have believed in all things. They were my friends, as they w^ere of every stranger-boy whom they met. There were others who were outwardly equally as clever, as kind as any; but there was a background in their nature, ugly and dark, hidden from the view of my inexperienced eye. How to believe, how to estimate, how to solve the problem among these, has often been the task of the inexperienced stranger-boy. He is certain to find conclusions, but in these he is often wrong. In this event he is always sure to " pay dear for his whistle." It is then only a matter of time as to when he will be fleeced, for fleecing is verily the profession of FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 33 some men. The wool falls from only a few sheep before shearing-time. I would repeat that a boy setting out to find his fortune among strangers needs proper experience and education above every other commodity. I believe, however, that scholars are all apt in this and rapidly advance. No lesson need be repeated, yet a young man may be financially ruined by a single stroke. His eyes in that event are sure to expand, the pupils will take in more light. In all his future action he sees better what he is doing. He knows more of man. His mind now being given more to meditation, he acquires more solidity of step. If never before, he begins now to put away childish life.' My First Speculation — Land Certificates — Fraud. There seems to be a negative end to every thing. All society has its cheats. All new countries have their sharpers. There is a class of men to be found almost everywhere whose trade is to live by swin- dling — a kind of remorseless, soulless class of beings, without moral inclination, and the negative ends of all that is worthy and virtuous in society. The field open for these in the earlier days in Texas was to run a trade in land certificates. The government of Texas issued these and sold them. They were gen- uine; but perhaps nothing was ever more easily counterfeited. I resolved to find my fortune by becoming the proprietor of Texas lands. I located as much land 3 34 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. as I was able to buy certificates for — engaged in bus- iness, made more money, and located more lands. Just as I thought my foundation was broad and good, a leaf turned in my history, and I saw plainly that my land speculations were a sad failure. Every certificate was conceived in fraud and "brought forth in iniquity." All that little sum of three or four hundred dollars I carried with me to Texas, together with nearlj^ a year's earnings, in one revers- ing whirl "went under." It appears like a small atfair now, but it was a large one to me then. I found myself on the broad plain from which all beginnings start. I felt for a little while that the battering-rams of men and nature were against me. I thought of home, sweet home, and the loved ones there. I felt in no mood to return there, though the storm-wind of life was pelting me sore, and full in front. I resolved to breast the storm and yet ride on the tide. This is the thought that laid in me the foundation for a successful life, though I knew it not. I had yet remaining in me all the innocency of heart which I had when I left home, sweet home. What is money, thought I, lands, in comparison with conscious innocence? I had been swindled, it is true, yet 1 had wronged no one. I had lost money, which is a perishable thing, but I had preserved my integ- rity. Turned Fed a gog ue— Whisky. Necessity is called the mother of invention. Of course my necessity pressed me into something, and there was no time to be lost. I had now been in the FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 35 school of experience for a year, had graduated into a much better knowledge of the true character of my fellow-man, but, in order to gain this accomplish- ment, likewise into poverty. In casting around for business I resolved to turn teacher, and see, while I improved my linances, what I could do for the in- tellectual and moral improvement of Texas. I soon found mj^self pleasantly enough engaged, consider- ing the times, in a new, growing, and beautiful tow^n not many miles from Red River. Teaching school in Texas in those days required much force of wdll on the part of the teacher. I occupied the court-house, which was in the middle of the square, and which w^as a building of only one room — a wood building, unceiled, weather-boarded with common clapboards, and wood shutters hung on hinges for windows; a house ungainly and un- comfortable enough, yet the only one in the young city unoccupied. It was "beautiful of situation," in the center of the square, the joy of the whole town. Every day in the week there was much noise on every side of the square in the way of driving, whooping, and swearing, but much more on some days than on others. The great body of the people were clever and civil, but the few rude ones, because the laws in those days were not strictly enforced, pre- sented things in the aspect of general uncivilization. In those days whisky was sold by the quart as its least legal dimension, unless by special license. Many a man in Texas then did not feel, as thu shades of the evening gathered round, that he had shouldered the responsibilities of the day as a pio- 36 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. neer should unless between suns he — to use his own phraseology — had "belted a legal measure." They had a sort of law or custom in their ring that every man must treat. The result was every man of their ring at night-fall carried a quart — at least, as many of them as were able to carry themselves. It was always a sad picture to me, to see the townsmen in the shades of approaching night gath- ering up the debris of men slain under the pressure of a "legal measure." On many an evening I have looked out of the windows of my court-house school- room and have seen half a dozen or more of these men, even careless of heat of sun on a summer's day, sitting on old goods-boxes or other relics, look- ing down on the "legal quart" of hell placed in the center of their ring; and now again lifting it to their lips and quaffing down the venomous liquid that drives morality and every ennobling virtue from the heart. Again, such hellish words as es- caped their lips! It was enough to chill the blood and astound the senses of every sober-minded ^^outh. I am glad, dear mother, for the pains you took with me, and for the impressive moral lessons you gave me in the formative state of my mind and heart. For these, which have always guarded me in evil hour, I pray you accept my deep-felt gratitude and thanks. The Acquaintance and History of Two Young Doctors. Here I made the acquaintance of two young men from Tennessee. Noble men they were, of good cult- ure, and of course of good families. They were doc- FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 37 tors by profession. Our hearts seemed to be tuned in unison. iTever in the West did I feel happier in acquaintanceship. Often, when I had finished my daily task in the school-room, we three naturally met as brother loves brother, and took an evening stroll down a beautiful plateau southward from town. On these occasions we deplored the ruin of many a young man in the West, l^one of us thought then that we would ever tipple. No, we each felt too much innocency of heart; we remembered too well the moral lessons of our youth; w^e had too much love for those we left behind; we had too much re- spect for our own manhood. But alas poor feeble man ! how little he knows of his nature! how little he realizes the life before him! Shall I tell it to you? Yes, I know you want to hear it. I will turn this leaf to view, though it pains my heart to look on the sad picture. One evening young Elliott accompanied me alone down the plateau, our favorite walking-ground He appeared unusually reticent. At last, half mourn- fully, he said, "Do you know where Scott is?" 1 answered, "ITo." "Well," said he, "I am afraid they have won him away from us. I would never have thought it, but he is under the influence of al- cohol now." "What! Scott? " said I; " Scott, who was our genial companion, and who has been with us so often in our walks on this beautiful plateau? " Elliott was silent, and seemed deeply merged in his own meditations. Scott was never with us any more. Elliott and I for awhile kept up our evening walks on that 38 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. beautiful plateau of ground, but when we found Scott with us no more they lost their interest, and gradual- ly ceased altogether. But here is the sequel of the whole story. Elliott, who told of Scott's first moral delinquency, and was so deeply affected over it, died from the effects of ardent spirits while in the State Legislature. What has become of Scott I know not. So long as I kept his history he was growing worse, more and more departed from what he might have been. Such is human frailty; such is life here below. I often think what a risk I have run in the West. How narrow have been my chances! There is a great deal in training children. The young men of whom I have spoken doubtless were almost properly trained, yet their youthful lessons lacked a little of impress- iveness. Methinks, dear mother, if you had trained those noble young men w^ien boys they would not have yielded to temptation. Ho w Innocency is Taken out of the Human Heart. I have seen enough history, and have made ob- servations enough, to know how innocency is ex- pelled from the human heart. She sits a modest guard in early life. While we acknowledge the moral decrepitude of human nature entailed from original transgression, yet we claim the latent virt- ues of the human soul may alwaj-s be brought to the surface by early and proper training. There need be no exceptions. It is emphatically a possi- bility. Training children is the worst managed af- fair that ever entered my meditations. Training FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 39 properly is the exception to the rule. As long as this matter is so lightly regarded we will have our long court terms, long lists of crimes, reeling drunk- ards, and well-filled prisons. that parents would feel the weight of responsibility that rests on them in training their children ! A Christian mother in molding the character of her loved boy is engaged in woman's noblest work. If proper environments are around the youthful mind and heart in any half-way sense in early life, innocency shudders and her nature revolts when any companion enters whose presence pollutes the air she breathes — he is not a congenial spirit; but if a stran- ger enters with a degree of modesty like herself, yet hiding from the view some mean trait of character, she blushes not in diss^ust. He is entertained; a ere- nial friendship springs up, and she divides her realm of heart with him. Another stealthily wins his way to the human heart, and takes a seat beside innocen- cy on her throne. Again another and another, un- til the human heart is parceled out, and instead of an innocent governess ruling supreme, the kingdom is spoiled by partition, and the vices of the age that tend to ruin exert dominant sway. There can be, as a rule, no sudden transition from virtue to sin, from innocence to crime. The work is gradual. A Scene ox the Square Abound my Court-house School-room. Well do I remember a day Avhen intense excite- ment pervaded every side of the square in the cen-* ter of which I taught my little school. It was from 40 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. early morning like a rising cloud of hate, revenge, and bitterness, and it grew more lowering as the hours rolled by. It seemed that all enemies had met for once, and all feuds contested; that the fu- ries of nature had assembled at one place to do their best. Whisky was ruling supreme. Ere the sun had reached his zenith, the very air appeared polluted with horrid oaths. As the day passed on, the loud talking gradually lulled into a repeated thud-like growl. That indicated the time was ful- ly up, and that whatever business was to be done must be immediately dispatched. It was one of those occasions in which you need not look to see — in which you need not be told; you comprehended the situation by drinking in the air around. Who that has proper convictions of rectitude and virtue could feel indifference for this frenzied hour? What boy could sit still in the court- room school-house when he could look through the windows and see the imlee in which his father was engaged. I pulled to the plank shutters. It made the room dark — too dark for study. I wanted to close my eyes and the eyes of those intrusted to my care against the dark, revolting picture displayed around. More than once an urchin sprung to his feet, and begged to be let out, that he might see how his father fared. By and by the storm of day abated. Meditative steps are heard and modulated tones of voice. Many have left the town who were foremost in the fray. I open the windows and let in the light of day. Comparative quiet reigns without. We resume FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 41 our school-room duties, not knowing the casual- ties of the day. * Believe me when I sa}^ the picture is not overdrawn. Believe me again when I say a large majority of Texas citizens did not participate in such degrading actions, nor sympathize with a course so degrading and so lost to true manhood. The reckless spirit and lawlessness of a few gave the appearance among the many. Only one instance will I cite as illustrative of the day. In the shades of the evening my attention was called by the moans I heard in a little hotel. Stepping into it, lying on a couch I saw a most pit- iable object — the same young doctors of whom I have already spoken busily engaged in taking up broken arteries and trying, if possible, to check the flow of blood. This was in the days of their inno- cenc}^ The object on whom they were operating to my astonishment ^vas club-footed. I learned aft- erward that through the heat of whisky he was as fierce as any. Hence the sad picture he presented at close of day. About Dancing. On one occasion while in pleasant mood I was pass- ing to my boarding-house I heard on my left a romp- ing sound. I stopped, looked, and saw the whirl of human beings. N'ow moving around altogether with thundering sound; now again all still, with faces front, w^hile one with limping step now to the right, ^and now to the left again, with corresponding gy-- rations queer and odd, until, like an acting magnet, one of the other sex, who now refreshed by rest, 42 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. with toe more light and gyrations more humorous, starts to meet the figure form before him. I^ow they approach each other; now they recede again; now as puppets moved by wires they pass each other, he to the right and she to the left; now they turn and try it the other way, with skipping and hopping and phys- ical contortions funny and queer. Having shown each other all the bodily gyrations and steps of the toe they had learned, with tired limb and panting breath they for support seize each other by the hands, and round and round in dizzy whirl they finish. Then, with a consciousness of having done their best, look- ing love in each other's eyes, they retire to the line of the circle formed side by side. No sooner done than another figure form is out with toe as light, and another, until each one has had a chance and each one has done his best. Then again, hand in hand, round and round with thundering sound they all move together. What pedagogue would not stop after his day's labor and mental strain are finished and see such humorous sport? What traveler either among the Orientals or in the Western World would not deem it good luck to happen on such a scene? Why, surely this is a felicitous occasion for the pen of the traveler or the pencil of the artist. I will inquire something of this, thought I; and so after looking awhile at the funny, humorous action of the com- pany assembled there, thinking that I had no more time to spare, I soon reached the door-sill of my boarding-house. The old pioneer with whom I boarded was in. FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 43 "Colonel," said I, '*I am a little behind time, but you just ought to go up yonder where that noise is and see something that beats P. T. Barnum or any clown East or West." " Why," said the Colonel, "do n't you know that a dancing-master has arrived in town, and some of the silly people are going crazy after him? He is showing the people now how to appear in so- ciety. He is going to teach the people the use of their toes and manners. He has made a school to- day of fort}^ scholars, and will begin his course of instruction to-morrow." I believe the Colonel was going to say more, but a couple of gentlemen stepping in broke as an inter- lude into his speech. He might have said many good things on the subject and the morals of the people, for he had gifts and grace, and but little patience with the intrusion of a dancing-master or any thing of like type which oxygenates public morals. The gentlemen were members of a committee, under in- struction to see me and if possible get me to sus- pend my school and give the dancing-master a chance; that the time he required was short, only two weeks; that many of my pupils would attend his school in order to learn the use of the "toe and manners." "Gentlemen," said I, "it is not for the sake of two weeks that I assume my position — it is not for any pecuniary advantage they can possibly afford me that I assume my position; it is on the broad ground of morality and virtue. Your request is most wretchedly unreasonable, and should I enter- 44 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. tain it, I would be guilty of classing myself second to a dancing-master, which I shall never do, though the stars fall. I am young, it is true, though I think I have a mature judgment in this case. If your dancing-master educates the heel, I wish you to un- derstand that I am educating the mind and heart. Judge you who will implant solid manners, but be sure and "judge righteous judgment." As the teacher of your school, I claim the right to assess the guilt of my students, and to punish accordingly. If I am unreasonable, and incur guilt on myself, your recourse is to the statutes of the State. I here announce to you that any student of mine who shall attend the dancing-school shall be expelled, and that this shall in no w^ise exempt the parents of such from payment of tuition." The foregoing is as nearly as I can remember the speech I made to those gentlemen of the committee appointed to wait on me. It had an awakening influence on the citizens. My school went regular- ly on. The dancing-school was likewise taught through. By it much of the people's money was taken away, morality made worse, and consequently the manners of the people unimproved. At the close of the dancing-school two delinquent students of mine returned. I sent them back home as expelled. The parents came and protested against my action. I showed them my law. They apologized and prom- ised. The conditions justified me in kindly receiv- ing their children again. I have never, to this day, heard of a dancing-master in that town again. The whole affair shows a characteristic of the people of FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 45 a new country. They are a little too much inclined to fall into line with what is popularly going, with- out considerins: its ultimatum A Plan to Regain my Lost Fortune. It w^as while I was still engaged here that I con- ceived the plan of regaining my loss in the certifi- cate swindle which 1 had sustained. The Colonel with whom I boarded was surveyor of a land dis- trict that embraced several counties in area. He was a candidate for reelection, and told me that in the event he was successful in the race he would give me a deputyship in the business. He said that he needed an active young man in the field; that he was getting old, and would do the office-work. This was pleasing news to me, and as I by education un- derstood the theory of surveying and had some prac- tice in the field, I felt ready at any time to take up chain and compass. There were hundreds of thou- sands of acres of land to locate in the district, and I could get all the work I could do in locating lands on the shares for men who had genuine certificates. I must sayjustatthisjuncture that school-teaching now appeared to me to be a little business — entirely too small for one who felt the prospect and capacity for surveying which I did, and who looked in fond an- ticipation to many fold more profit. I felt assured that the Colonel would be elected. He was an honest pioneer, a Christian gentleman — not a craving man, having great opportunities for wealth yet not amass- ing much of this world's goods. He had a prestige for frontier activity and Indian-fighting that merited 46 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. respect and confidence. He was in the memorable encounter in which the lamented Colonel Denton was killed. I thought this man honest, and I have never changed my opinion of him to this day. The office being in those days a very lucrative one made it very desirable. This officer, though poor on the day of his election, might during the term of his office, by industry, become possessed of a large land estate. The Colonel, or present surveyor, al- ways had a good character up to this time; but the friends of his opponent, as I thought and still think, in a most dastardly manner turned a leaf in his history, which if true would blacken the char- acter of a man sufficiently to render him more fit for the companionship of demons than of men. It may be the interest I took in the election rendered me an improper judge in the case. However this may be, it was the opinion I had of the man before the contest, and it was general then; and I heard noth- ing of it after the election. On the day of election every advantage, honora- ble and disreputable, was taken. Intrigue, fraud, and lying banded themselves together in their most be- coming aspect. Voters were bought when the con- science of the man would not revolt. The merit of a favored candidate was lauded to the skies. Du- bious things became positive truths or positive lies, just to suit the cause. Opinions were emphasized with ungodly epithets, and passion rose on the smallest contradictions. Whisky was drunk by quarts without the money of those who gurgled it down. But the day passed by, the votes were FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 47 counted. The Colonel was beaten by a majority of two votes. As a matter of course, my prospective financial policy was ended. No line was now open to me but, with an easy conscience, to continue my little school. How I Made Atonement for Being a Partisan. Old Tray is represented as a good-natured spaniel. Unluckily he was caught in bad company, and had to suffer. I do not to this day think I was in bad company. I was simply allied with the Colonel's party. This was my crime, though I felt not the pang of it nor felt its stain. It looked unphilosoph- ical to me, yet the young school-teacher, for the crime of being an honest partisan, had to suffer, all for party prejudice— that tyrant which when unbridled rides down innocency with a harlequin look; that knows no mercy, respects no claim, but looks solely to party aggrandizement ; that foolish imp that frames all its reasonings for a certain end, not considering whether it be right or wrong; that hound of the infernal depths that laughs at the mis- ery of one-half of mankind, delights in pulling so- ciety to pieces, and gives a lamentable howl when both truth and virtue prevail. Another schooi was soon established in another quarter of the little town, and now like two hives of bees — no, let us not in the comparison degrade the useful honey-making articulates that can sting but once and then die, but like two nests of wasps whose proximity has brought tierce combat between the members, each of which can sting a hundred 48 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. times a day and then rest better through the night. Many a time a day it pierces, wounds, and poisons; and every time one is pierced it raises his anger more. From early morn till late at eve the combat grows; nor even does a Sabbath intervene to give the parties rest, till at last, weary of mind or tired of monotonous toil, their angers droop and they turn to things more novel. Thus it is when party spirit rliles the heart and frenzies the brain of man. In this kind of heat, if a deed is to be done, howsoever dark it may be, whether by the tongue or hand lifted high, there lives the man, if he is only sought, that will perform the act. In order to perform the most villianous deeds, search only need be made till the man is found. Disgust— Musings — Looking to the Legal Profession. I grew weary at the beholding. I love society, and nothing can win me away from congenial spirits. But when people forget their high origin and smelt their natures into the putridness of hate, jealousy, backbiting, and envy — of lying for party preference, without counting the cost to society, without real- izing the worth of man, moral and intellectual — then to me that quarter of the earth is a stench to my nostrils; it presents to my mind a loathsomeness of aspect, and has a plague in its atmosphere, against which my nature revolts. I resolved at the close of my school to find a place where there was union and peace — where society had no mildew upon it. I wanted to find a place FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 49 where the granite rocks of love and friendship cropped out in pyramidal piles; where charity flowed as a peaceful river; where the sun rose in love, shone in beauty, and set in splendor. * I left the storm be- hind, and retired to a country-seat. It was a de- lightful change. Here was aroused in me anew the feeling I had experienced in my boyhood days. It was the promptings of an ambition that for sometime had been latent. Political life in early boyhood had for me a charm that made me feel restless. I loved its public discussions. The excitement came over me afresh while in my retirement. I appeared to my- self like one just waking up to proper reflections on his proper course of life. Dreams of promotion would sometimes pass before my vision. However, I was yet on the plain from which all beginnings start. Who is a benefactor to me? thought I. I am only a young man in the West, tossed up and down, full of mistakes and changing events; now looking for some sheltering rock where rest may be found. Yes, thought I, though a stranger, there is a chance for me, and I will abide my time with pa- tience. Moral worth is a good introduction, the very best commodity for a young rising man. It is this that will in time give him prestige. Let him only keep this, and combine with it intellectual cult- ure and industry, and the indications of his mind will be conceived by the advocates of right princi- ples. As a step before the public, I resolved on the study of the law. This I did not do, perhaps, as the student ordinarily enters on this profession — for 4 50 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. the living that is in it. I had an ambition that reached beyond the mere practice of the profession. My object was to use the profession of the law as a means of attaining unto the ultimatum, of my ambi- tion. However much I might have needed the liv- ing to be found in the practice of the law, yet it did not enter ray thoughts only in some secondary sense. The resolutions of my mind were the following: I will study the law; I will do my best to know it thoroughly; when I enter on the profession, I will never take a case which I shall know to be wrong; I will ever be ready to help the innocent; I will dis- cipline myself to the most rigid moral rectitude. In this view I procured books and entered on a course of reading. I became more fond of books than ever before in my life. I seemed to myself to be in a hurry; I found myself continually hurrying up; I was anxious to be before the people. In my spirit, w^hich perhaps was a little too sanguine, I calculated on success. This thought, continually re- curring, kept me comfortable. When I talked, I talked of the law and what I had been reading; when I walked, I meditated and digested. I loved to look into the problem of right and wrong, to run hair- lines of distinction, and see the very beginnings of turpitude and crime. If ever a man was overwhelmingly engaged in a study, I seemed to be that one; if ever a man was decided on a course of life, it was I. Yet, shades of the night! if you ask me if I ever practiced or liad a client, I will say no; if you ask me if I ever picked up the gauntlet of a political opi»onent, I FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 51 will say no; if you ask me if I ever finished tlie study of the law, I answer no; if you ask me if my life has been a happy one notwithstanding, I say yes. Finding at Last my Proper Life Business. At this period in ray history a greater change came over me than at any period of my Hfe. In this pe- riod lifes business became fully confirmed unto me. True, I had resolved on political life as most conge- nial to my nature. I was now arduously engaged in the study of the law as a stepping-stone to that business. This I preferred to every other. Noth- ing seemed to move before my imagination like unto the principles of true government, the philosophy of the minds of the governed, legislative assemblies and their proceedings. This idea seemed planted in me, like a principle born in my nature. To pluck it up by the roots required the strength of an om- nipotent hand. To change my life from its inten- tions and fancies, after I had resolved to run it on principles as solid as the rocks and as pure as gold, was not a mortal act. I had no fear of moral de- cline in the business of my selection. The base on which I resolved to stand I knew would support me. I had seen in my short career in the West manj^ a man fall from my side — some whom I loved most dearly, and whom I hated to give up; yet I felt daily that I was more strongly intrenched in the paths of virtue and honor. Every one who had fall- en from my side was a lesson to me never to be forgotten. Happiness seemed just ahead, and all I had to do, thought I, was to steer on, and mv now 52 ■ FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. small and scarcely navigable river would open into a deep, wide, and smooth sea. But, shades of the night! I found myself steering my life in a kind of human speculative sense, basing all my success on human ingenuity and power — giv- ing my consent, how^ever, fully to all the truths of the Christian religion. My life, however, in order to render it less liable to err, needed more grace — more of that principle that branches deepest in virtue, and gives an assurance that it will end in eternal fruition. I became very meditative, and would un- consciously hold up my own heart to view. It did not have the innocent appearance it had to me when I was a boy by your side and from day to day heard your kindly words. The West had not left me al- together unscathed; yet I had done no overt act against either the human or divine law that smote my conscience. The point that hurt me most was general neglect of duties. I resolved to make amends, repented, and felt better. I went to my books, but I found myself in unrest and unattempered to use them as once I did. Like a trace continuall}^ breaking, I yet hitched on again, until in disgust I left the business for a walk into a grave-yard. Here I stopped to ponder over life and all mortal things. Here I sat, I stood, I walked, I meditated, I prayed. I felt the throes of a revolu- tion going on in my moral nature. Many things came up in my memory that had long lain forgotten. When a little boy I had joined the Church. In those days I had many a struggle, and hardly contested many afield in ni}' own simple FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. • 53 innocent way. Some of my acts then appear to me now quite silly and foolish; yet many others appear full wise enough for their clay. I remembered well that when a boy I promised most sincerely that I would be a preacher when proper years of discretion should come, and I remembered that I had repeated this promise time and again; but the most forcible remembrance, and that which made me shudder most, was the truant part I had played. Why did I go to the West? thought I. Simply to seek my fortune there? ]S"o, that was not all. That standing alone suppresses part of the truth. Verging into manhood as I w^as, I felt a growing independency of spirit. My individuality began to assert its claims. A cold indifierence came over me for religion and all moral good. what a crisis a young man has to pass through! There is a time when he needs help, patience, the kindliest ad- monitions. There is a period in the history of every young man's life in which he is sorely tried. I would place it from seventeen to twenty-one years of age. Changes are continually going on in him during this period. You see it in the changes of his voice, in his manners, in his plans, in the general bent of his nature, to assert his own individuality. This is the age that gives the most trouble to teachers and the greatest uneasiness to parents. It is the most formative period of our existence, for it is the period in which judgment begins to play a part, and consequently of rejecting and accepting. What is true of boys and young men applies with equal apt- 54 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. ness to the other sex, only this formative period is of 3^oiinger years. I remembered my promise. I knew I ought to fill it; but no, the responsibility was too great — this is not the business of my liking. Here was the dark- est day of my history, a day in which no light broke on my moral vision; no friendly voice cheered my heart; no rainbow of promise spanned my moral sk}^ I sunk myself away in the seclusion of solitude, and locked my heart away from all human thought, and carefully kept the problem all to myself. Now, "to him that is afflicted pity should be shown.'' But I got no pity, because I did not make known my af- fliction. Here I resolved that I would be a preacher after the lapse of two years. On the promise my conscience became somewhat easy. In the mean- time I resolved to go West and leave, for awhile at least, these lands where my independence and indi- viduality were restrained. Now, dear mother, if I had confessed to you the state of my mind and heart, I would have found the comfort needed. How readily would you through word and token have helped me out of the slough into which I had fallen! and I, at an earlier day, might have been in the ministry at your door, and not after a lapse of time, so far away. But I, in my foolishness, resolved to fight my battles in an inde- pendent way, not appreciating a mother's helping hand. It was a strange forgetfulness in me. I had been in Texas for more than the stipulated time with which I eased my conscience. During that time, twice I had placed my stakes for a fort- FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 55 une, but just as often realized the vanity of all things here below. I had fully discovered that a man may chase a bubble in fond anticipations, but that it may burst in a moment most unexpected, and with it vanish all fond hopes. Shall I give up the law with all my outgrowing anticipations? thought I. Yes, I resolved to give it up and let it go to the winds. This may prove but another bursting bubble, and I will pursue it no farther; it is but another cheat of man's own making; it is but one of those delusive fancies that may never bring happiness; I will dis- card it at once and add it to the list of vanities; 1 will no longer trifle with an omnipotent hand that has always kindly led me and been long-suffering toward me. I gave up my own will, bowed my head, and He took me. God wanted me as one of his special agents. O wonderful, wonderful! 'Now I remember, dear mother, just at this time I wrote you a long letter. I have your reply to it. I have always kept it as one of those cherished mementos too dear and fragrant ever to be lost or forgotten. Brother Fielding will please read for us again : OUR LETTERS ON THE MINISTRY. My Dear Mother: This letter will bear you tidings wliich, perhaps, will awaken in you a little surprise. There has been a great revolu- tion in my moral nature and feeling. I am impressed to-day that I am established on a rock whose base is sure and steadfast. I am called to the ministry of the gospel of Clirist. I have accepted the situation with a feeling of unworthiness, and yet of astonishment and wonder. There is no doubt in my nund that it is the will of God that I should bear a part of life's burdens in the capacity of a preacher. The great wonder to me is that one so unworthy should be raised to an office so high. I think now that I shall find a higher .56 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. enjoyment in this than in any other coarse of my life, although I have by no means attained unto it by choice. My ambition ran in another channel in which there is less sacrifice and much worldly honor. I have had a hard contest to quit the line of former inten- tions; yet I have at last yielded, and find pleasure in yielding. 1 now forcibly realize the fact that every man has a mission here below, and that is that the world should be made better by his exist- ence ; but the trouble is, many do not accept the situation. The world is too" cold and selfish, and the individuals who compose it have too little concern beyond self. This ought to be a peaceful, happy world ; and it can only be made so through the mission of (Jhrist. As an agent in his hand and under his superior guidance, I sincerely desire, in a humble way, to put in my strength to ameliorate the condition of mankind and point them to the ultimate rest. I do not realize now that I am tossed up and down in the eartli for want of employment. There can now be no longer intermission in my life business. Every man is my neighbor and God is my friend. My nearest alliance is with Christ. The world is the field of my operation ; and in this, the same as in every thing I have at- tempted in life, I shall do my best, by the grace of God. The life before me is one of arduous toil and sacrifice, I know. The highest reward attainable here is the enjoyment which springs from a full consciousness of an entire submission to the will of God and conse- cration to the work; but in the end will come the full fruition. Who can contemplate the indescribable happiness of the man who through a life-time has borne the cross of Christ with undeviating rectitude, and feels that all is peace as he looks toward his going-down sun? Who can tell the joy of him, in such a time, who through life lias not sought personal preferment, but who through sacrifice has looked to the interest of his fellow-kind? The line in which I have been given a place has a grand history. If I should want to find the most beautiful specimens of moral hero- ism of which the earth can boast, I would only follow this line back through the centuries to Christ. The list is headed by Paul, the grandest hero of ancient or modern times; and all along is a hero- ism in sacrifice that would never have enriched the earth only through faith in the promises. It is a noble history. The society is the finest of earth, the company the noblest. I feel that I am in the enjoyment of a wonderfully grand promotion. I know I have had your help all along — your admonitions before FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 57 I left, and your prayers since every day. True merit shall not go unrewarded, though we are all "unprofitable servants." I need not ask you to pray on, and especially for my steadfastness; I know this you will do. I trust this exaltation given me may prove a blessing to you ; and if you ever feel oppressed by gloom, and the shades of night gather around your moral sky, remember God has hunted down your son and made him a preacher in the West. Cheer up, mother; cheer up, and look toward your eastern sky. It looks a long way off; yet all the way down your life has flowed as a peaceful river. Now look toward your western sky ; see, it is getting nearer as the rolling years glide by. Does it not look beautiful? Your sun is now going down, and mine is going toward his zenith. I know yours will set after awhile with glow and radiance, yet there will be left behind an undying twilight to cheer your preacher-boy, until the waves of this present life are past and he with thee at last has found unceasing rest. Your son, with true filial devotion, MOTPIER'S EEPLY. Mxj Dear Son : I am not in the least surprised with the tidings of your late letter. My children are all in the hands of God, who has promised to be a father to the orphans. When you were young and only of a few summers, you remember how God thought it best to call my husband from these mortal shores. I then claimed the prom- ise he made, and committed tlie responsibility of a father to his care, trusting him to supply all needed things. I have shown more wis- dom by humble trust in him than in any other course of my life. In every thing else my life has been marred with mistakes and awk- wardness, but in this every thing has been in order and brought good results. Faith is the foundation of all true wisdom. No, I am not surprised at all. God knows best Avhat to do with his children. In answering your letter, I feel my own unworthiness, and yet a deep- felt gratitude to God for such a favor as he has bestowed on me — calling one of my sons to the high office of the ministry. This more than repays me for all my toils, diligence, and faith. While I can- not say it is the reward of my own virtue, yet I know virtue never goes unreAvarded. It is enough for me to know that Heaven is work- ing the highest respectability in my own family by calling one of my children and conferring on him so high an office. God, by whom all things are made, is continually sui)crintending 58 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. his moral universe as well as governing the physical. The grandest display of his moral influence we find in the atonement made for sin by Jesus Christ. All other demonstrations look small in the com- parison. Yet choosing as he does to work through agencies, he does a little here and a little tliere. When it is all summed up and we look at the whole, Ave are struck with awe at the vastness of the work he is doing through agencies; yet he is in it all. God as certainly calls men to office in his moral government now as in any preceding age of the world's history. He has begun a work and, has not left it to the whims and caprice of men, but in time, by the sway of his power, through his government in direct operation and through his agents, will yet prove to the whole world the true merit and worth to man of Mary's Son. He has, seemingly in mercy to me, but more through the wisdom of his own choice, taken you into the army of his public servants. Son, this is a high enrollment; be true to your colors. Your life, I trust, will be one of much happiness; yet you Avill have many things to endure for Christ's sake. The eyes of the world will now be upon you more than ever before ; your correctest manner will be criticised by many. The least derelictions on your part will be mag- nified into great sins; you will learn much by looking deep down into your own nature and heart; and whatever you find wrong there, by correcting it, you will have to be more deliberate, and meditate more than you speak. Do nothing and say nothing without a consciousness that it is right. Above all, live near to Him whose cause you have espoused, and who has taken you into the higli office of the ministry. I have observed that it is not every one who is called that does good. It is only they who magnify that calling. Nothing, in my estimation, presents so sad and lamentable a picture as the manner of a minister of the gospel not corresponding with his high office. Light and chaflTy conversation are alike degrading in the minister of Christ. He should be sober-minded, his topics well chosen, and all his words of decent p]nglish. The minister of the gospel should be ambitious; not, however, in the ordinary sense of that word — seeking personal aggrandizement ; but in a holy, consecrated sense — striving after a high attainment in science, literature, and theology. In this way he will have a more congenial way of reaching the different classes of men. No other than a cultivated man, full up with the age in which he lived, could have with impunity preached Christ unto the Athenians from Mars' FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 59 Hill. Yet Paul did this, and successfully introduced Christ. While Paul stood a success at Mars' Hill, a thousand carelessly living be- hind their age of the world would have fallen in the effort. Paul was so scholarly, and so well up with the age in which he lived, that he needed less of tlie U2:>per guardiansliip than some men. The grandest display of Heaven in his case was to break his Judaistic neck and inure him to the yoke of Christ. I hope you perceive this hint. God will never do for a man what man can do for him- self. He will only supply man with the things he needs and of which he is incapable. Some, in a mistaken way, look for more than necessary help from God. In this way life passes, and but little is known and done. The minister of the gospel must be studious. I shall entertain no doubt but that you will succeed in your new and high calling, and that you will be a humble instrument in do- ing much good. I know something of your manners and diligence. I am glad you have yielded, and have fought no longer against the claims high Heaven has on you. It would have been a sad day in my history to learn that you stubbornly opposed the Spirit of grace through your love for other things. I certainly, in that event, could have found no pleasure in following the history of a son so recreant to the Spirit's higli calling. I am not surprised that you have turned preacher, by the grace of God. Well do I remember that when twelve years of age you re- solved on reading the Bible through, and carried out the resolution that same year. Many happy hours did I spend in those days as I beheld you digging in the rich mines of God's sacred word. Even then I indulged the hope that God would find some special use for you. I could not find the true state of j-Dur heart then, on account of your reticence on personal experience. Go on, then, in faith and diligence, my son, and you will finally obtain your reward. Your affectionate mother, EEFLECTIONS ON A CALL TO THE MINISTRY. Now, clear mother, there are some who do not look at a call to the ministry as I do. There is a kind of speculative idea in the world that all men are under obligations to God, and that they are free to preach or otherwise, just as it may suit their con- science, or as the Church may appoint. I think it 60 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. is well enough for the Church to exercise an over- sight in the matter, but by no means repudiate the fact that God this day and through all time will call men through his word and through the direct op- eration of his Spirit to till certain missions in this life, and more especially the ministry of his word. All the talk in the world and arguments of men could not change my mind that it is my bounden duty to preach the gospel, and that it is made plainly so on my mind and heart through the influence of God and his word. TPwOUBLES AND EMBAKRASSMENTS OF STARTING. After I was licensed to preach, I felt a strange gloominess creep over me. I constantly desired and sought solitude. My happiness came more by my own meditations than through converse with my fellow-kind. I was content with w^hat I had done and with my new relation to society, yet the highest pressure of unrest was upon me. Full of anxiety in this new sphere of activity, burning with ardor to And how to begin, a revolution of impatience per- vaded all the precincts of my mind and nature. I felt a desire to go out among strangers as a more congenial way of beginning. But where shall I go and exhibit myself in this new relation, drawn by the Spirit, and yet as if by haste and magic? I was like the man who commenced building his house without first sitting down and counting the cost. Ah! how always since I pity the young candidate for the ministry! Poor fellow! he must obey the call of the Master, yet how soon he feels the bur- dens of the cross! llo^v soon he realizes that enter- FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 61 iiig the ministry is like entering no other business! I do always from the depth of my heart sympathize with the young man as I see him entering the min- istry. In the midst of my embarrassments, I concluded to go to the vicinity of my old ranch, about twenty miles west of where I was licensed to preach, and make my first efforts there. I knew many of the people in this vicinity. As I came near the neigh- borhood, I wondered how I should make known the fact that I w^as a licensed preacher. This was a very annoying thought to me, for I felt conscious they had never heard of the change wrought in me. I was relieved of this embarrassment, however, un- expectedly and handsomely enough. There was a good-meaning, clever citizen, a member of the Bap- tist Church, living on my ranch. His quick eye, notwithstanding my efforts to look as usual, discov- ered that a perceptible change had come over me. After the usual compliments, he said w^ith an anx- ious look, "What is the matter with you?" "Nothing unusual, I suppose," said I. "Yes, but," said he, "I know there is something. There has come some kind of a change over you." This was all very strange to me, indeed quite prob- lematical. I have since attributed it to the unusual seriousness that had permeated my whole being now for nearly a month. In reply, said I: " My friend, I suppose I shall have to give you a little speck of mj- history, which will probabl}^ explain all" you desire to know. I am now, sir, a licensed preacher; but I did not know till now that it had made a change in my 62 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. appearance. I have recently been licensed to preach by a Quarterly Conference of the Methodist Episco- pal Church, South. This is a high office, and I feel a great degree of unworthiness for such a relation as I now sustain. Your surprise at my appearance is no greater than my own at finding myself in this new relation to society." " Well," said he, "I had much rather you had been a Baptist." " That," said I, " I can never be, and for reasons I am not now in a mood to give." "Well," said he, "we must have preaching any- how. We don't get much of it in this Western country. Methodist preaching is better than none. I suppose you are willing to preach for us." "Yes," said I, "I am willing to do what I can. I have not made a beginning yet, but I am willing and ready any day to try. But when shall I preach and where, for you know w^e have no churches in this country?" " Preach right here in this house," said he, "next Sunday; I will sec that you have a congregation." " Thank you, my friend," said I. Indeed, this was quite a surprise to me, and a very welcome one, for it took away quite a load of embarrassment. 1/r First Sermon. When Sunday came, I was overwhelmed with sur- prise to find so many people assembling. For miles around they came — from Hickory Creek,Clear Creek, and Denton Creek, and from other places wherever a frontiersman had domiciled himself anywhere in FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 63 reach. They came, men, women, and children, with their dogs and a few cats, to hear one of their num- ber — a pioneer, now turned preacher — proclaim the tidings of salvation. I have thought since if my friend on the ranch has done all his life's work as well as he spread the appointment of the new preacher, he is not one against whom the people should complain. But now the ordeal was at hand, the crisis that most tries the young preacher. He is naturally am- bitious, and wants to succeed. A consecrated ambi- tion is a holy thing and a desirable quality. By it he is a student, by it he becomes scholarly; though it is hard for him sometimes, after having done his best, to be content to leave the results with God. He desires to be the peer of any one. He has a high self-respect. He wants to feel that God will supply all lack; yet there rises up in him the consciousness that God \\\\\ never do for him what he can do for himself. On this ground be feels that he has to be a student and prepare for his ministrations. This be- ginning is a crisis in the life and experience of all young ministers. It may bring joy or sorrow, pleas- ure or mortification, kill or make alive. With much diffidence, at the hour appointed I appeared before my congregation. I, as I thought, went through a tolerable exercise; nothing in it particularly to elate or cast down — good enough for a beginning perhaps, and yet mainly attributable to previous hard study of the subject. My mind was now fully impressed that if a man preached he had to do what is usually 'done in any profession — ^pre- 64 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. pare himself for the business by hard study. Med- itation and prayer would of course occupy their proper places. I gave notice here of my intention to go into the traveling connection and of being a regular itinerat- ing minister; that I could stay with them only a short time. On this announcement I was requested to preach for them again. This I did two or three times. Then I left them for the Quarterly Confer- ence in which I sought a recommendation. I felt a deep sense of my un worthiness for so high a calling, and a great lack of that knowledge which is neces- sary for the successful minister of Christ. I had heard several persons preach since I had obtained license, and all appeared in advance of me in the knowledge of God's word and power. I still desired and sought seclusion, and often felt mortified on re- flecting on my own incapacity to handle the word of God with a master's hand. A consciousness of my weakness made me resolve to know the Scriptures, to be a hard student of the word of God, to labor to improve m^-self in all respects, that I might find favor before the people and therefore do good for Christ's sake. However, I embraced no idea more fully than that God would help me onl}^ in things which I could not do myself. Hence all my prayers went up in this philosophical and scriptural way. Going to My First Conference. I was duly recommended by the Quarterly Confer- ence for trial in the traveling ministry. Only a few days passed before all things. were ready, and I FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 65 found myself en route for the city in which the An- nual Conference was to be held, a distance of more than two hundred miles. My company of preachers ^oing down were all mounted on horseback — were five in number, making six of us altogether. One like myself just starting, another of two years' ex- perience, highly opinionated in himself, and three others, elderly-like, either in or approaching toward the meridian of their days; all seemingly jocular enough, as though they w^ere out for recreation or on a holiday hunt. I did not feel as they did, nor do I think my friend just starting did. My utmost effort could not shut down the rising tide of serious- ness which ramified all the secret cells of my nature, and which at times seemed to burst the dikes and dams of my meditations, and fill me with misgiv- ings and alarm about the great business into which I was entering. In view now that it is past, I am not sorry; but I would shudder to know that the experience were to be repeated. Several times I was chided for my reticence; yet to be otherwise was against my nature. Often I thought if those seniors only knew the half that was in my heart, they would not chide, but sympathy and pity would be awakened as for one that is afilicted. Surelj^, thought I, they have forgotten their troubles of other days. But our lives here are full of annoy- ances and mistakes. The flower may look beauti- ful enough to the eye, but be repulsive to the olfac- tory; the fruit may look red and inviting, yet be bitter to the taste. I think preachers need recreation as well as peo- 5 (jG five years in the west. pie of other professions. The highest recreation in Texas in those days among the preachers was found in going to Conference, which was generally a long jaunt on horseback. It was performed in groups of three or half a dozen together. The poor hard- worked fellows had their purses better filled now than at an}^ other season of the year, and if ever they had a full new suit all at once, either had it on or carefully stowed away in their saddle-bags for display in the city of the Conference. The manner of their attire was regarded jis a sure index of their financial success, or, to say the least, that they had either been among or not among a clever people. But few questions were asked of any one who seemed to have fared well concerning the people whom he served; no one seemed to care to hear him say that a petition was in for his return, for each one thought the place would do, and if he should at the close of Conference be read out to it, he would only be fortunate. They usually went to Conference in all sorts of moods for conversation. Now strung out two and two together, or carelessly apart, and now again the Avhole group together. At one time the conversa- tion low and monotonous, again in a louder tone. At one time seriously engaged in conversation on doctrine, or perhaps more seriously on the trials of itinerant life; but again in reminiscence or anecdote at which sometimes would come bursts of laughter that would make the hills and forests give back the echo round. One is gloomy, he is chided into ac- tion ; another is reticent, he is rallied : another talks FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. G7 too long on one subject, be is fired into and scat- tered. Tbeir minds were usually as well stocked witb anecdote and humorous incidents as each one's treasury department — tbe saddle-bags — was of manuscript, books, and his best clothes. No enjoy- ment ran higher than when they could make one of their number the subject of remark, some inci- dent humorous and really enjoyable having eked out from his lips at an unexpected time and in an unexpected way. He was then the hero of the day. Any new traveler with them soon becomes con- vinced that Methodist circuit riders have seen much, heard much, and know much. Their magazines of wit, humor, anecdote, and reminiscence seemingly have had closed doors, awaiting the occasion when the brotherhood take liberty wdth one another which they do with no one else. On these occasions, every one is presumed to be fully able to take care of him- self. If he awkwardly falls into a ditch, he scarcely ever gets a helping hand; if he bogs in a mire, he must clean his own clothes. He gets no cjuarter, he gives none. He rises by his own ingenuity; he falls by his ow^n weakness. " Be a man " is the idea ; nor is it without its fruit of cultivating self-reliance. T w^as a quiet observer of men and times in those days — more so than ever before or since. I saw^ some things that rasped my nature. My own mood dis- qualified me for many things really enjoyable. I could see nothing particularly sinful in my company. It was only the bounding of the spirit which for a short time w^as relieved from heavy cares. It was a 68 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. holiday recreaticii, fall of enjoyment, especially to the men already inured to a circuit rider's life. On some of these occasions there was perhaps a little too much rein given to thought and expres- sion, but some one would soon begin to moralize. Seniors should always be exemplars before the ris- ing buds in the ministry. The young preacher is tender, and needs the most careful nursing. He neither needs to see too much nor to hear too much. All the evidences he gets from his seniors should tend to inspire him with a devotional spirit and the great worth of human souls. lie is but a bud yet to bloom, and the tints and coloring of the flower he shall make are yet to appear. He is an imitator, and will find a model somewhere; he has nowhere to go outside of the sphere of his acquaintance to find it, and will naturally find his model among the preach- ers. Some one of these is sure to be an ideal character. Hence it becomes all seniors to be grave, and especi- ally to avoid lightness and chaffy conversation, which are repugnant to the word of God. This would by no means suppress hilarity of spirit when properly attempered by sober-mindedness. It is no check on anecdote, humor, and wit, when not of a low and vul- gar order. At Conference — A Sketch. Finally our last day's journey was finished, and we found ourselves at Conference. Here they came, from near and far, to report the summing up of a whole year's stewardship, with " How d' ye " here and " How d' ye " there,with greeting smiles and enjoyable looks, in annual social o^atherino^ that the brethren FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 69 love. We received instraction or obtained s:nides to our respective boarding-liouses during the session. On reaching my boarding-house, I found one had preceded me. As I stepped to the door, I saw him, long and lank, looking as though he had more ribs to the side than usually belong, to men, or else a greater space between them. With semi-guttural tone and nasal twang; with knees too high when sitting, and head too low when standing; linking the mien of a mixed mind with a crooked gait; be- ing the embodiment of importance with the soul of a stray dog; there he sat, as I entered, carelessly, unconcerned about circumstances, with high knees, and an almost neckless head resting on his body — the ill omen of any thing the imagination could work up. While I was musing who the stranger was, the polite landlord came in and soon made known to us this man who so much abused nature in his phys- ical development. He was a new-comer, with his parchments, from one of the sister Churches, knocking at the door of Methodism to find a place to preach the word, and perhaps along with it to show to the people what the forces which had worked in his physical struct- ure could do for one mortal man. He reminded me of the lost link; and I never doubted, in the event he should succeed in getting an appointment, but that people would meet wherever he appointed to preach or otherwise display — for there are people who go for the gospel's sake, and others to a monkey- show; and where the two are united, the best con- gregations may be found. Thousands go to hear 70 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST.* the gospel, but more to see the enormities of Bar- mim; and lo! a greater than Barnum was here. ".Hadn't orter" was one of his pet phrases, for he w^as from a State far North, and neither talked nor looked like our people. " Yes," said he, " I am from another Church, but I think the Methodis' do some things they hadn't orter do." "What things?" said I. " Why," said he, "I think they had n't or- ter baptize their babies." Said I: "Sir, you 'had orter ' staid where you were, and ' had n't orter' come away. What are you going to do about it if the Conference gives 3'ou a circuit? " Said he, " I reckon I had n't orter say any thing about it." This is only a specimen of our conversation. I had no voice on the Conference-floor. I certainly would have stopped this impostor. I privately spoke to some of the brethren of him, but heard nothing of it afterward. I perhaps had gotten more into the inner character of this man than any other. As this odd character is before me, I will finish with him, and then go back and take up the thread of my narrative. Yes, he got an appointment along with the others of us. The strange combination of elements both in the moral and physical develop- ments marked this man as a real subject in life's history. Such a subject I w^ould never quit for another w^hen my problem is to describe any thing out of order. Hence I resolved to watch him with a vigilant eye; to lose no occasion to inquire how he fared, and how they fared whom he served. And now, but not by our own fault, but through his own g^ction, we have to cut off his history abruptly. The FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 71 circuit did not fit him, or else he did not fit the cir- cuit. In his financial strait, he managed to borrow an overcoat of one, money of another, horse and buggy of another, and so far as I have ever learned neither he nor the goods liave ever been heard from. He went, as the good people thought, to the place whence he came. Whether there the people all sit, stand, and act alike, I have never learned. Yet in' my meditations on this jackanapes, taking away the things he did, through sympathy for the brethren he wronged, I always think he " had n't orter " done it. This whole history goes to sliow the caution to be used in receiving others who are fond of Church- changing. There are some good men who are hon- estly convicted and convinced, no doubt, yet there are others who use it as a policy or make-shifi to get along throucrh the world. In the Conference-eoom. But I know you want me to go on with my nar- rative. In the Conference-room was the gravest time with these Methodist preachers. A bishop is in the chair. what an awe-power he was! True, he was only a man of like passions with others, yet he was seen only once a year, and sometimes even less often in those days, when distances in the West were so great and conveyances so slow. When he did come, however, with some of the brethren, and es- pecially the younger ones who knew but little away from the West, it was like getting a visit from another planet. Perhaps the best order in Confer- ences was to be found in the West. Business moved 72 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. regularly ou, and without disturbance — not simply on the ground of the awe-power of a presiding bishop, for this did not always happen, but on the ground of Western education, a high self-respect, and its coun- terpart, a patient consideration of others. The Con- ference-room is always an exceedingly interesting place to the young preachers. They always go away much improved in both mind and heart. The Outlook Among the Beet he en. After a few days, the novelty of things having somewhat abated, the principal topics of friendly intercourse having been discussed, conversation turns more in the direction of interest. The old familiar "chum" names are not forgotten. Every one be- gins to look to an appointment, and yet no one knows where he will be sent. Even the presiding elders work hard to have their districts "well manned," as they call it. Among the preachers you may hear one say, "John, w^here are 3'Ou going next year?" "Buck," says another, "what kind of peo- ple did you serve last year?" These and similar questions are heard from a rising suspicion or imag- ination that the questioner has found where he is going the ensuing year. Perhaps a presiding elder has asked some one how" he would like to go to Jordan Mills, or how he would like to follow Bill Jones. The poor fellow makes his own intepreta- tion, and often thinks he is going to the place named by a presiding elder. It is astonishing how many have found out, or think they have found out, where they will be sent the ensuing 3'ear. These things, FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 73 however, arc mutable up to the last moment. Many a poor fellow finds things at last neither as he ex- pected nor hoped. Heading the Appointments. But at last the inevitable hour arrives that either kills or makes alive. The Conference business is fin- ished, and the appointments are all fixed. A slip of paper is in the bishop's hand that contains the full announcement. He rises deliberately, and before he announces the verdict of the year, from which there can be no appeal, he kindly and fatherly admonishes to heroism, without which no man can achieve a good history — no one can expect a crown. In some parts of his address tears may be seen gathering in the ej^es of many. This address is a very useful thing when properly thought and delivered. Many a poor heart that was almost shrinking from the task of a Methodist preacher is encouraged to still endure for the sake of the Master. A stillness now reigns supreme. Hearts are to be tried. The bish- op reads the list in slow announcement. Each one, as his own scribe, is trying to write it all down. He w^ants to know it all, nnd be able to tell it to the people whom he is appointed to serve; i'or in the West, with the poor facilities there in those days, months might pass before the published minutes could be distributed. To compensate for this, each one tried to carry the minutes in memory or manu- script. Look yonder! a face is radiant with pleasure. That one is placed where he would like to go. But 74 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. look yonder! there is a bowed head. It has uncon- sciously dropped toward his knees. It is not as he likes; but do not fear — he will go, and before another Conference gathering will find many good fathers and mothers to raise his head, take away his gloom, and bless his soul. But look yonder I no tear is fall- ing. It is the erect form of a noble youth, looking about wistfully, unconscious whether the announce- ment for him is east, west, north, or south. It mat- ters not; he will go. Under the Master's call he will forsake home endearments, and leave behind a loving mother and a fond sister to lift up before the eyes of men the cross of Christ. But the last appointment is announced. The cur- tain drops. Where there was a bowed head it begins to rise up. They begin to wipe away all tears. Then the parting scene is soon over. " Good-by, John; God bless you!" "Good-by, Jake; my good boy, cheer up." " Farewell, Buck ; do n't forget to write to me." " Billy, tell ma they have sent me away off yonder, and I cannot come to see her for a year." Away they go. Some east, who had been traveling west; some west who had just traveled east. An army of evangelists, refreshed and newly inspired by their annual gathering, is turned loose again on Satan's kingdom with armor bright ; and the " ruler of the darkness of this world" trembles on beholdino:. My Assignment — Somto w — Incidents. My appointment was to a large mission work, or rather to two missions, in conjunction with a senior brother. The nearest line to reach the work from FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 75 the seat of the Conference was at least two hundred and fifty miles; but owing to a sad and unexpected circumstance, I was called to go a route of nearly twice this distance. My brother-in-law, who had but recently moved to Texas, had been killed by the accidental falling of a stick of timber. Having re- ceived notice of this sad affair, I started for the mis- sion work, but, in sympathy for a sorrowing sister, on this circuitous route. An incident occurred in my history as I was on my way to this house of sorrow, which I will nar- rate here because of the surprise it awakened in my mind. I traveled the whole distance from the seat of the Conference to the home of my widowed sister alone — a distance of between two and three hundred miles; much of the way being of a char- acter that awakened in me a spirit of loneliness on account of its solitude. It was principally pine- woods until I reached the neighborhood of the Trinity River, when the pine and sand began to give way to oak and more solid earth. Where I halted for my dinner I was informed there was a short way recently opened across the Trinity River, by wdiich I could save many miles in reaching my destination. I embraced the idea with pleasure, for above all things I wanted to make time. This new way across the Trinity was full of novelty, and proved by no means pleasing to me then. l)own,, down the Trinity bottom I went for a long distance before I came to the ferry. But one lone traveler had I met that afternoon, and had seen no habita- tion for several hours. It was a lonesome evening. 76 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. On arriving at the ferry, I saw a boat, and it too on the favorable side of the river, but no ferryman. I looked up the river, down the river, across the river, and through the swampy woods, but no human form could I see. In the absence of a horn to blow, I whooped with all my might, but the only respond- ing sounds were the reverberating echoes of my own voice. Night-fall was now approaching, and " I must get out of here" was m^^ immediate resolve. I knew that unless I could have better luck advancing than retreating, the leaves would be my bed and a log my pillow for the night. Though unused to the project of ferrying myself across a river, I nevertheless took off my saddle-bags laid them in the boat, and led in my faithful horse. I then loosed the fastening, and with rope and stick made for the opposite shore. This I could not do by a space of three feet, on ac- count of a stake under w^ater. I threw my saddle- bags on shore, for I carried no bottle in them, nor any thing else easily broken. I followed with rope in hand, intending to fasten the boat to shore; but to my surprise, my noble horse, as if impatient and in dread of a crisis, may be through my awkwardness, leaped to shore. My hurry to give him space to light, and the reaction which his spring gave the boat, jerked it loose from my hand. As I saw it receding, I hesitated for a moment to lind what I could do. I saw I could do nothing. Wishing no harm might come of it all, I mounted and began to hunt for a place to lodge for the night. five years in the west. 77 The Surprise of the Night. On and yet on I went. The dusky eve brought no relief. I was just despairing of finding lodgment for the night when, a little ahead and just off to the left, I discovered a light. It broke graciously on my gloomy mind. What traveler, when late and weary, would not thank God for light and a home for the night. " Hello! " rang my voice on the night air as from a gladdened heart. A figure appears; another, and another. They are Indians, as veri- table Indians as I had ever seen. But, however, thought I, it may not be so bad after all, although I have never heard there were any Indians in these parts. I made known that I was a weary traveler, wanted lodging for the night, and food for my horse. I was permitted to alight, but got ill fiire both for myself and horse. After eating a little of such as they furnished me, I sat by the little fire they had kindled, for the evening was cool. To my great surprise, one-of them became very inquisitive. Reti- cence is the generafcharacter of the Indian, but this one, either from the promptings of an abnormal nature or from some manifestations growing out of my surprise, became very free to interrogate me. He seemed to understand the geography of the State. "What is your name?" said he. This I gave. " Where do you live? " I gave him the place where I had been living. " Where have you been? " I gave him the place. "Where are you going?" I answered, naming the counties in which my mission work lay. "In the cattle business?" "Not extensive- ly," said I. " Well, what you come 'way round here 78 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. for?" Now, I admit. I w^as traveling circuitously awkward to the mind of one who did not fully un- derstand my intentions; but this was more than I could stand even from a red man, who showed cult- ure enough as a host not to have put such questions to the traveler. I turned my eyes on him w^ith the determination of true manhood, and addressed him as follows : " Sir, you have taken me in for the night, and as a traveler I claimed you as my host. You have violated the courtesy which properly exists between us in the relation w^e sustain of host and traveler. Whether it arises from your ignorance or grossly from your heart, I cannot tell. As it relates to myself, you shall know who I am. I am what is called a Methodist circuit-rider. I have been at- tending an Annual Conference of the preachers, and am on this circuitous route to visit a recently wid- owed and sorely afflicted sister; after which I shall travel and preach on the mission work to which I am assigned. You \\\\\ now, sir, please show^ me wdiere I may rest for the night." He did not look pleased at all, though he uttered not a word. Others were present, but they said nothing; they looked as though they did not know how to take it, or else did not understand what w^as up. The cabin had two rooms, and I was show^n to the other. In it there w^as a place cut out for a chimney w'hich had never been built. The head of my bed w^as immediately by that. I blew out the sort of burning wick with which I had been sup- plied — taking care first, however, to reconnoiter the room, and to evade as far as possible any uneasiness FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 79 should any one in any conceivable way be watching me. I took some old wrecks of benches, that for some cause were lying in the room, and propped the door; that made it troublesome and noisy for any one to enter that way. This left me no place to guard except the niche in the wall cut for a future lire-place. I lay down on the bed with my plans all matured. I could not suppress the uneasiness of the hour. I do not remember that I prayed; I rather think I did not. I was anxious for anv thins: that was intended; I wanted it to come off without delay, result in whatever way it might. I felt a kind of readiness, and lay awake for a long time waiting and expecting. I even snored aloud to in- duce them, if any thing was intended, to begin the action. But the dead stillness of the night indicated repose all around. I became much wearied through watching, so much so that unconsciously and unin- tentionally I sunk away into sound sleep. When I awoke the sun was giving occasional glimpses through the trees, and there was a hum of voices around. All went well, and probably all was meant well; yet I take no pleasure in such experiences, and do not desire to have them repeated in my history. Mr Bebeaved Sister. When I arrived at my sister's I felt a considerable weariness through the journey I had made; but this was soon forgotten by the spectacle presented by the little family. They had been in Texas but a short time, only a few days, when the sad calamity 80 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. already mentioned befell them. Far away from friends and loved ones left behind, and having had but a short time to make acquaintances in the West — she herself apparently blooming in youth, yet with eyes declining to sadness and a face marked with care and sorrow; around her five unconscious in- nocents, going- or wanting to go wherever she went. They often in their prattling way mentioned the uame papa, but never without bringing tears, to the eyes of the sorrowing mother. Circumstances all seemed to meet in a way that truly made this a house of sorrow — even such as our Saviour would have visited had it been in Palestine, and in those days when he personally walked with men. , She herself was young, and ardentl}^ devoted to her hus- band; just arrived in a new country, and far away from old home and friends; the unfortunate and un- expected death of her husband; the five little chil- dren around her, whose memories were full of papa's looks and care. This sad picture to this day has never left my memory. It became fastened in me with a hold that time, with its changes, can never erase. She had enough of this world's goods for all necessary comfort, but no measure of these things could compensate for the vacant chair, nor could they lift the load from the heart. It was one of those heavy burdens a mortal here below has some- times to bear. Here I became convinced that sor- row can plow his deepest furrows without the aid of pinching poverty. I have visited many a house of sorrow since; but were I a painter and desired to paint young widowhood in sorrow, my pencil would FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 81 naturally fall on the scene here so feebl}^ pictarecl to the view. There would be in it none of the squalid- ness of poverty, yet there would be in it the eyes and face which show^ how things lay about the heart. I remained several days here. M}^ dear sister ap- peared a little improved and more resigned when I left. I saw, however, that sorrow was cutting deep tracks that would remain on a beautiful face like a scar through life. I endeavored to show her the advantages she had over some widows, and exhorted her not to sink too deeply into a state of melan- choly. I bid good-by deeply impressed in my own soul. I dropped a tear, trusted God, and started for my assigned mission work. Horse Swapping. I was now anxious to get to the missions and see what I could do for the salvation of souls. I had heard that it was a little dangerous on the missions on account of the Indians. I began to think my horse was hardly suited for such a work. I like- wise always believed that God Avould only do for us what we could not do for ourselves. Therefore, I thought it prudent to try and get better mounted. On my way I stopped for a night's lodging with a Mr. Harris, a jovial, pleasant, good-natured man to- ward the traveler. I made known to him my mis- sionary work, and the fact that I thought a man traveling such a work, on account of the danger, should be well mounted. In this he entirely agreed^ with me, and in his jovial, pleasant way said : " Why, I have got theverj^ horse you need for such a work. 82 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. You look like a clever young man, and I would hate to hear of your being scalped. I think I can set you up just right for your dangerous mission work. In the morning I will show him to you, and if you wish to trade I. will give you a good bargain." Now, this Mr. Harris was one of those men pe- culiarly tempered in that way, in which a horse never passed by unless he looked at him with an earnest gaze. He looked at the form and observed the gaits of all horses. He formed his opinions of horses readily, and I think seldom erred. He doubtless then knew all about my horse in the stable, though I was unconscious of it. However, that night in answering him I said: ''Very well, sir; any righteous trade in which I can mount myself better for the mission work to which I am assigned I shall cer- tainly be willing to make, and shall regard it as a favor.'' The morning light broke upon me much refreshed. In due time the talked-of horse was brought to my inspection. "How old is your horse, Mr. Harris?" said I. Said he: "I am a member of the Presby- terian Church, and I think you might say Brother Harris." " Very well," said I; " then. Brother Har- ris, how old is your horse?" "He is eight years old," said he. " That, Brother Harris," said I, " is a very clever age. Your horse is neither too young nor too old for durability." "Look in his mouth," said he. "Ah ! Brother Harris, as to that," said I, " I shall have to depend on your statement, for I know nothing of that science." "Well," said he, "there is the horse. I have told you that he is eight years FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 83 old. Tommy, get on him and show his gaits. See, he moves ck^verly in three or four ways, but that fox-trot is the best for regular traveling. I'll vent- ure when mounted on that horse the scalping-knife will never get near to your head, for that horse has speed. An Indian never owned a horse that could catch him. Now, I will tell you what I will do. Though my horse is larger than yours, as well formed and better gaited, you can ride off either one yon want." I thouglit a moment; and yet it seemed like there was no use in thinking, for Brother Har- ris's horse, in my judgment, was the best for me in the mission work, though I knew mine was a good horse of his class. " I believe. Brother Harris," said I, "that I will ride off your horse and leave mine with you." "All right," said he, "but I hate very much to see Pompey go." Now, I hated to leave my faithful George behind; but I regarded him in good hands, and was sure he would be kindly treated. Away I went on "Pompey" for the missions; a noble-spirited fellow, indeed. Why, surely he is all that Brother Harris represented, and even more. It is a blessed thing to meet with good men, thought I, and was no longer thinking of my horse, and had ceased watching his gaits. I suppose I had traveled live miles when the manner of my horse called my attention to him again. He was not getting along well; he Avas sadly failing. At ten miles lie was fearfully under; all his sprightliness was gone, and all his nimbleness of foot. His story is soon told. He was a broken-down steed, eight years old, to be sure, but how much older perhaps Mr. Harris him- 84 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. self did not know. He was an old horse which in his young days kept his spirit for a day, but now in age, pampered for a cheat, could endure for only an hour or two. Do you ask me what I think of Mr. Harris? I will tell you. I think he had a good mother and some good brothers, for several of them were in the ministry. I think his wife was a good woman, and that all their children that take after their mother will be honorable and good. I think he had many good neighbors who never told falsehoods by sup- pressing part of the truth. I think the Presbyterian Church to which he belonged is about as good as any of the Churches, and that thousands of her members will by and by reach the sunlit shores of the blissful -future, where there is no necessity for Methodist circuit-riders to swap horses with Presby- terian farmers. Now, you are bound to say that all of these are good opinions, and yet they are all I have to say of my host, Mr. Harris. How I Finally Got Mounted for the Mission Work. ]^ow, I owned a little ranch stocked with a few horses. This ranch lay in the direction of the mis- sion work to which I was assis^ned. On it lived a friend. Finally I arrived at my ranch and ex- plained to my friend how I came to be afoot. This friend was fond of a joke, laughed heartily at my mishap, and said: "I know exactly how I couUl suit myself in this emergency, and I think it would suit you." "My friend," said I, "tliat is the very kind FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 85 of talk I wish to hear just now, but I am sure there is no horse on this ranch that will answer u\y pur- pose." "No, no," said he, "but would jou have any objections to riding a racehorse?" "Well," said I, "that depends upon the circumstances. If it is to ride him on the track, or to train him for the races, I would most seriously object on the ground of the morality involved; but if it is for getting away from the Indians, I would regard myself happy to be so w^ell mounted.'' " Well, I will tell you," said he, "Mr. Scruggs, over in town, has a black race- horse of pretty good turn to be managed, and wants to trade him for a work-horse. I think that bay horse of yours, with a white spot in his face, will suit him. If you can get that black horse, my word for it, you will be well mounted." "Thank you, my friend," said I; "to-morrow I must of necessity attend to a little business in town. I will ride Han- dle," for that was the name of the horse to which my friend referred, " and I will see whether my horse suits Mr. Scruggs." "You need not fear on that score," said he, "for I rode him to town the other day, and he asked me if that was a good work-horse. He said that he was done with racing, and wanted a w^ork-horse." Accordingly, on the next day, I rode Handle into town and rode out on the Scruggs black race-horse. All trading was fairly done, and Mr. Scruggs, as I afterward learned, was pleased with Handle. I do not know what was the former name of my black horse, but I named him George; and a sensible, faithful horse he proved to me. It is astonishinsr how a horse becomes attached to 86 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. his master, under kind treatment. There were never better friends than George and I. He seemed to depend on me as much as I depended on him. If ever he cut a caper a little tormenting to his mas- ter, he seemed immediate!}^ to repent by showing a fondling disposition. He was to me what Buceph- alus was to Alexander — a dear horse indeed. This little tribute of respect 1 pay here because it is due to that faithful old servant. He was much attached to his master, as well as his master to him. On the Missions— Mr New Title. ]S"ow, being fully equipped, in the month of No- vember, facing a stiff Texas Korther, I started for my first appointment. This was in a little village but re- cently sprung up. I arrived on the evening before my appointment to preach. It was soon whispered around that the 7iew preacher had come. Here, for the first time, I was called " Parson." It did sound so strange and queer to me. It is a little word, and to be known by such an epithet appeared to dry up the fountain of my pleasure, especially when it Avas the manner of all whom I met to shower it on me. "Good-morning, parson. Well, parson, they have sent you to a big work. How do you think you can stand it out here on these large missions, parson? You have a fine-looking horse, parson ; do you w^ant to swap him? " Ofi" to one side, the same uncomfortable word could be heard ringing on the morning and evening air. Listen : " The parson is a young-looking man. Do you know what State the parson is from? Don't you think the parson is FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 87 pretty good-looking? " "0 dear! " tbouglit I, " does the Methodist circuit-rider have to stand all this? " I have given the foregoing specimens, as indica- tive of the manner in which the new handle to my name was used. How much more preferable is Mis- ter, or Brother. IIow I wished for the day when this uncouth, degenerate epithet should be lost to the world! Mr First Sermon on the Missions — Singing — ''Brother Jesse'' — Frontier Meeting-house. But now the day, the hour arrived in which I was to make my first effort publicly, as a circuit-rider. I had preached three or four times, to be sure, before going to Conference, but then not with the pressure of responsibility I now felt. I went to the house of just the character all frontiersmen first have, and of which they are always proud — a house of about eighteen by twenty-four feet, with board window- shutters to close off the cold; a door cut just any- where a man ma}^ happen first to strike; a punch- eon floor, and split logs mounted on legs for benches. A house to be used on all occasions, public or otherwise; for it w^as never known to have a key. In it the preacher preached, the boys held their polemics, the master taught, the clown exhibited, and the immigrant camped. On Sunday it looked a little tidy, or otherwise, according to the weather and the manner in which it had just previously been occupied. But having been a frontiersman two or three years, I could endure almost any thing, whether I liked it or not. 88 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. I took my position in one corner, the observed of all observers. I wanted to sing. I would have given any thing to sing well; but this had been an accom- plishment neglected in my education, mainly be- cause my voice w^as hard to train. Said I, " Will some one please give us a voluntary song?" They looked at one another, but gave no response to me. I heard one, however, say: "Jesse, lead out. You can beat any one singing round here, Uncle Tom says." But neither Jesse nor any one else led out. I fully appreciated the responsibility of the young preacher. I could in a sort of way sing a few of the old familiar hymns. I sung one of these in the sort of way I was able, and as best I could — a few old ladies throwing in their interludes w^henever their ideas and mine agreed. We sung it through. It sometimes awakened looks of surprise, but more frequently pleasant smiles. This converted Jesse. He was no longer ashamed nor afraid to sing. In- deed he lost no time, for scarcely had mine and, the old ladies' voices died away when he snatched up another hymn, in a voice far more stentorian and musical, and in which many joined. I felt heartily ashamed of myself, yet I was glad Jesse lived, and had the power through song of linking himself so close to me. "Jesse," thought T, " I will make you a leader here." I then looked down on my text while the singing went on. It w^as not long before I was up before the people announcing my text: "Choose you this day whom ye will serve." (Joshua xxiv. 15.) I regard that and all similar texts to this day very well suited to FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 89 beginners in the ministry. They are at liberty to dwell and comment ^liicli on the appertaining his- tory, and thereby very much evade the oljstructions of the gospel — a business pertaining to riper years and a deeper acquaintance with the word. I closed my sermon, as I thought, very well. At least I felt a pleasure, a calm satisfaction, and a full determina- tion to go on with the ministry. I was about to dismiss the congregation, when some one suggested the propriety of an evening service at the residence of Brother Daily. As it was now my business to preach, and as I felt flushed with victory, and a joy- ful complacency over my sermon just finished, I took pleasure in making the appointment accordingly. The Evening Service and the Fruits it Bore. In the shades of the evening, the people began to assemble at Brother Daily's, and I among them. The veritable Jesse was there; thanks to his good soul! My text on this occasion was the first Psalm. I felt a consciousness that I would succeed. I counted on nothing else. I am satisfied, however, that my reli- ance was too much in the virtue of my own powers. I did not feel the humility necessary to successful preaching. I began — I thought I was doing well — I soon discovered myself keyed too high in voice. The thought embarrassed me — I was running at too many knots an hour. I tried to work myself into more de- liberation. I felt a heavy pressure. I imagined my congregation sympathized. It was a shock on my nerves. I could not recover. A film came over my eyes. Things looked dark around me. I found my- 90 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. self stammering. I knew I was stumbling. I would retreat but for the disgrace. I tried to rally, but I could not recover. I would, but I could n't. I tried, but I did n't. I was talking away, but I did n't see the point. I was up, but I wanted to be down. I was there, but I wanted to be away. I would quit, but it was too soon. I would go on, but I had noth- ing to say. "O how shall I get out of this sad trouble?" thought I. Just then — O fortunate in- deed! — my eyes, through the film of my understand- ing, fell on the noble Jesse. O what a relief! Sitting down in the deepest sympathy for myself, mortified and slain, in the deepest humility, I said, "Brother Jesse, please sing." Jesse was ready. In a twinkling he was at it, as if making up for all lost time. Thus it went — Jesse sung. Some joined in with him; others looked about. I was sad. But by and by the song is fin- ished. The service is concluded with prayer, and the congregation is dismissed. I staid with Brother Daily. ^ O what a fix I was in! The people were talk- ing about things as usual. I wondered why they were not talking about my sermon on the first Psalm. " How could they be thinking about any thing else? " was the wonder with me. I wanted some one to talk to me about my sermon and failure. It would give me a chance to apologize. I was willing for anybody to call it a failure. It w^ould be foolish to render any other verdict. I felt ashamed to intro- duce the subject myself. Even Jesse, for whom I was feeling a warm afiection, was gone. "Ah ! " thought FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 91 I, "I atii resolved what I will do; when the morning comes, I will saddle up George, and I will turn his head oft' these missions. I will not stultify myself with this kind of doing. Before everybody linds how big a fool I am, I will retire where my friend is on my little ranch, and either in comparative ob- scurity pursue the avocation of a small stockman, or else go to the law again." With this resolve lirmly iixed in my mind, I retired, not to rest, but to pon- der human life witli its uprisings and its down- goings. In an adjoining room, several young people were engaged in conversation. I heard my name called, or rather the inevitable "Parson" I have already mentioned. I laid my ear close to the wall and list- ened, if ever mortal listened here below. I wanted to hear the verdict. I was anxious to hear their sport. Hush! listen! ''The parson looks young, does n't he?" " Yes, he is just starting in the min- istr3\ The sermon he preached to-night is good for a young preacher. He'll make his mark." "Is it possible?'^ thought I. Yes, these are only a few of the private sentiments I heard that night through the board wall between us. My whole being became revolutionized by this providence. I had been " cast down, but not destroyed." " No, I will not play the truant. I will plow furrows through these missions. I have the respect of the people remaining with me yet, and I will not forsake them. I will go, by, the grace of God; I will go in prayer and in tears; I will go in courage and in meekness; I will go because the Master calls, and his providences are over me; 92 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. and as I go I will preach the riches of Heaven's grace to the comfort of every heart." I always since have looked back to the struggle I had that night with pleasure. I learned in it how the Lord wants his ministers to be of humble mind, and how his prov- idences work to the proiit of the soul and to useful- ness in his kingdom. Again, I often think how narrowly I escaped the danger. Had I deserted my post, as I resolved, there is no telling the ruin into which I might have fallen. Under the new reflec- tions awakened in me, my rest became balmy and refreshing. Abe A OF THE Missions—Meeting with the Senior Preacher. These missions to which we were assigned, two in number, extended over a vast territory — bordering on Red River, and extending southward in the State about one hundred miles, with an average breadth of fort}^ miles. They had been traveled before, but not unitedly as now. Every year their area became increased to the full extent of the westward settle- ments. The senior preacher with whom I was assigned I met within a few days after my first experience on the work. He was a man that took life easy, was well adapted to Western life, easily accommodated himself to circumstances, and had been for several years a missionary among the Indians. He was a man of good soul, devout, but not sufliciently culti- vated so as to form a man of manners, constituting a good model for the 3'Oung man to lay off a pattern by. FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 93 The manner of arranging the mission work for the year was to make the " round" of it a six weeks appointment. Inasmuch as we were without a plan, it lay in such a condition as necessitated a reorgani- zation of it altogether. Hence, he took one-half of it and gave to me the other half, each to organize his half in three weeks and submit a plan to the other. This we did, and we were but little together during the year. Following each other's plans of organization, we each traveled the entire work in SIX weeks, always three weeks apart, and giving every congregation a service every three weeks, statedly. So that in three weeks the work was fully organized, subject, however, to some changes which followed as our acquaintance with the work became more thorough. Wherever we went we left an appointment to be back ourselves in six weeks, and each for the other in three weeks. Many places needed the gospel which had not received it. I soon discovered the progressive character of Methodism. ^o other denomination of Christians was pushing so much to the front and with such persistent energy. Character of the People. Wherever I went I was kindly taken in; and though a stranger, the comforts of the cabin or camp-fire were cheerfully divided, and to me was given a share. The people were generally poor, but exceedingly kind. They had not received much of the gospel, yet were disposed to be religious. They were rather uncouth in dress and manners, but they had good hearts and stout courao-e. Some had 94 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. herds of cattle and horses that subsisted on the spontaneous pasturage of the country. Generally, the soil was not much cultivated. To take them all in all, they were as clever people as you will find anywhere, but greatly lacking in advantages. If they could afford no acconmiodation, it was not for the want of a heart, but of the means. They were inured to hardships; never boasted of what they had; never complained of their want. They were just the class of people to go forward in a new country. They prepared the way for complete civilization, and stood between it and the red man, the buffalo and the bear. They were a pioneering people, courted danger, loved the freedom of frontier life, and moved on ahead of all general improve- ment. With them neither fashion nor diet changed the year round. Their removals were all toward the West. They complained of being hampered when the settlement became a little dense, and that the range for their stock was wasting away. 8uch was the character of the people on the missions, and such was the character of most of the border peo- ple. Exp EC TA TioN Bla s ted — DiSG us T. On the eastern border of these missions lived a Methodist minister — a man of considerable experi- ence in the ministry. I congratulated myself when I was approaching his section of the country. I counted on having a pleasant and profitable night with him. I thought he could give me much in- formation about the missions such as I needed. Be- FIVE YEARS IX THE WEST. 95 sides, 1 hoped to get mucli information from him about how to study, prepare sermons, preach, and conduct m3'self generally as a young minister; for I reminded myself of a young bird in its nest, and while I was ready and willing to apply myself, I was anxious to receive from my seniors any crumbs of instruction which might fall from their lips. I did not find, however, in this brother such as I would, and consequently I failed to realize in his house the pleasure I anticipated. He was quite ignorant of the missions to which I was sent, and, as I thought, of missionary work generally. Instead of being an exemplar generally, he picked his teeth at the table with his fork — which act, under your training, dear mother, was so disgusting to me that I never felt disposed to repeat my visit at that house again. Yet, as my patience was so exercised in sermonizing, I thought surely this brother could help me a little, and consequently I asked him for advice. This he was very ready to give. Said he: " I would recommend thnt you commit three or four of Wesley's sermons and preach them. Out of these, by hunting texts to suit by properly dividing up, you may make yourself eight or ten; and that is about as many as a man needs. Whenever he preaches he can preach one of these; but frequently an exhortation will answer every purpose." Which disgusted me most — this instruction, or the act at the table — I am not able to say. The whole of it was mortifying to my flesh and repulsive to my nature, "xire we to regard all manhood clean gone?" thought T. "Are we to class ourselves with 96 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. plagiarists, parrots, and mimics — only speaking the words of others — and when we die leave the world just where w^e found it? " " ]^o, mj brother," said I, "your advice I cannot take; I cannot be recreant to the instruction of a mother who always exhorted me to true manhood. I am no rogue; I will not plagia- rize as you recommend. * Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish,' go up or down, preach or fail, I will make my own sermons." The brother, upon this announcement, delivered earnestly and em- phatically, appeared at a loss for a reply. I must say such a spontaneity was not usual with me then. It only broke like a bursting dam from my mind and heart under a keen sense of disgust. I have since known a few other preachers who repudiated self-reliance and depended on others. But I am satisfied that it would be best for all to spend more time in investigating than in com- mitting. There is more of true manhood in it. It is a blessing to have a good memory; but if it works the evil in the person possessing it of plagiarizing and of depending on it altogether, it proves a curse. Wesley's, Watson's, and other sermons I would by no means undervalue. They may be profitable in a reading course, but in form and style are not best adapted to reach men's hearts in this age. Young men should be trained to investigate, grapple with problems, look into the philosophy of the people's minds, and from close thinking, more than from memory, build their sermons in that form which obtains the best hearing and rebukes the most present evils. • five years in the west. 97 Buncombe County Illustbated — Fubtheb Comment. I had not been on the missions many days when one day in dusky eve I came upon the residence of Brother Jones, a Methodist, and a farmer away ahead of sluj I had seen, so far as I had yet traveled the work. He reminded me much of my boyhood days. lie was the owner of a dozen or more slaves, and between him and them existed perfect harmony. Sister Jones was the most motherly woman whom I had met. Brother Jones, Sister Jones, and one single daughter, comprised the family of ivhifes. The other children were married and gone to themselves. I was kindly requested to make their house my head-quarters, or my home, while on the work. This I very gratefully accepted; and though I knew I could not impend much time with them, yet there was a place I could call home, and a good woman whom in heart I could call mother. The taste dis- played by this family, their lines of thought, and their conversation, were congenial to my nature, and tended to intellectual and spiritual elevation. Now, this well-to-do farmer lived in a very rugged portion of the country. It presented just such a face as is least pleasing to the eye. He lived on a hill, yet from his residence vision was soon eclipsed by other hills and brush-wood in every direction. He never saw the sun rise, and just as unfrequently saw it set. Between him and the hills around were deep-cut ravines, and along their margins could be seen, corners of his fields. The line of his fencing took direction according to the shape of the hills and the 98 FIVE YEARS IX THE WEST. course of the rivulets meandering between. It made no difference in what direction you found yourself from his residence, there was but one way of mounting the hill to get to it. You always ap- proached it by a single way, and with much circum- locution. Indeed, it was a wonder to me why such a selection for a home should be made in a new country at so early a day, when immigrants had such choice, and especially by one who was finan- cially — like Saul, son of Kish, was physically — head and shoulders above all the rest. "Brother Jones," said I, "where are you from?" " From Buncombe county, E"orth Carolina," said he. " Well," said I, " considering your finances and pos- sibilities, it seems very strange to me that you, after traveling all the way here from the Atlantic coast, should make such a selection as this for a home. What inspiration drove you to this, Brother Jones? " Said he: "I will give you a sketch of my history, and then you will understand how it has come to pass as you find it. For many years, while in my Buncombe home, I had from time to time been hear- ing beautiful things of Texas lands and of the beauti- ful prairies. Long before I left my Buncombe liome I had a desire to see and live in a country where hills were scarce. At last my desire ripened into my removal to the West. When I saw the beauti- ful, gradually undulating prairies of Texas, with their rich soil and grazing herds, I thought every now and then that I would stop, drive a stake, find the owner, and make a purchase. But I went on until I, from some cause which I do not understand, FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 99 paid out my money for this place; and since I have improved it and looked over it, I tind no place in Texas that looks more like my old Buncombe home- stead than this." "Ah ! Brother Jones," said I, '' we understand it; there is no helping human nature; we natural!}^ love the old homestead; we think sometimes that we do not, and quit it in disgust. Yet we want the orchard in the same direction, the barn and the spring. We want a like appearance of hills and woods, and brooks and vales. On ac- count of these we sometimes leave the old home, seeking another view and a better fortune; but as we settle again, our old love returns, and ere we are aware we find ourselves, like you, in another Bun- combe home. Love of home, hke patriotism, dwells inherent." Now, there are many men in the world like Brother Jones. It may not be the prominent old homestead in every case; yet they have left the dear old home and gone far away, seeking a better fort- une. Ere they are aware they have lost oppor- tunities and paid out their money, and when they cast their eyes about have no advantages over the old homestead. I was traveling some years ago far to the south-west of the missions. The ground was parched, the day was hot, and I was longing to find water for the comfort of both myself and my horse; the country all along presenting no strange con- trast with that about Brother Jones's, but every little rivulet-bed was dry. After several hours' fa- tigue, thirst, and weariness, I finally came to a habi- tation. Here I was in the midst of hills, woods, and 100 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. naked knobs. I was just about to congratulate my- self on drawing near to the habitation when my pleasure began to wane, for my eyes had fallen on the historical ''sled and barrel^' that indicated "water scarce." A number of pleasant and seem- ingly happy faces in the way of children were soon exhibited to the traveler, who rarely passed through that country, and among them the genial proprietor, a man perhaps forty years of age. "How do you do, sir? " said I to the proprietor, whom I had now approached, and whose face, being all sunshine, in- dicated that he was by no means a man of moody turn. "Yer}^ well, I thank you. How is ^^ourself?" " Thirsty, sir, thirsty, both myself and horse. What is the chance for a slake? " " Pretty good for your- self," said he, "^mt not for your horse; my depend- ence is on that barrel.'' "I am a little sorry for my horse's sake," said I; "however, sir, I will try and make the most of it, and thank you. But what country are you from, my friend ? " " From Mary- land," said he. "How long have you been here?" "About six years." "Have you any neighbors?" "Yes, sir." "How far away are they?" "About four miles." "Have you any churches or school- houses near you?" "None nearer than eight miles." "How far do you haul your water?" "About four miles these dry times." "Have you any preaching near you ? " " We have had it a few times at neigh- bor Ruskin's since I have lived here." "What de- nomination?" " The Methodist." "I see you liave some clever- looking boys. Are you educating them?" He gave me a wondering, sorrowful look FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 101 and made no reply. Said I: "My friend, I think you have come a long way to make a mistake. Look well to those clever looking boys. Thank yon, sir, for the water." I bid him good-by, and rode on in my meditations. Brother Jones Again— My Lesson from Sister Jones. But I must come back to my good Brother Jones. The next morning as I was saddling George, Brother Jones came to me and asked if I knew it was a little hazardous to travel the missions. I told him that I supposed it was on account of marauding bands of Indians. I further stated that I would thank him for any advice he could give me. By this time we were in his house again, and ready for a little talk, as I intended before I left. Sister Jones had been w^atching my maneuvering, and had all things ready for a parting prayer before I left. She placed a chair by the stand on which the Bible ahvays lay, and nodded to her husband, who immediately invited me to pray with them before I mounted my horse. I had just prayed with them before breakfast, and now to crowd another prayer immediately on break- fast appeared to me to be wedging breakfast pretty close on both sides. It partook richly, as I thought, of the Presbyterian style of grace — a blessing of consecration upon and thanks after. I remember once since in my life when our Annual Conference and a Presbyterian Synod were held contempo- raneously in the same town, several Presbyterian ministers and I had got assignment to board at the 102 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. same house, the proprietor of which was a Presby- terian himself. Very unexpectedly to me, and per- haps unfortunately, before retiring from the table I was called on to return thanks. I have always doubted whether I made a good " hit." It was one of the acts of my life done in blindness, and I have never been able to recall the service. I may hear from it yet some day, for no doubt but that it was good enough to impress the memories of my good Presbyterian friends and the polite proprietor. But I prayed immediately after breakfast, according to invitation, with Brother Jones, Sister Jones, young Miss Jones, and a few of the servants who were re- maining about the house. One verse in the lesson I read impressed me deeply: "Pray without ceas- ing." I never thought afterward that I could crowd my prayers too much. Said I: " Sister Jones, I am glad you arranged for prayer before I left. I believe it has done me good." I then referred her to the text, "Pray without ceasing." "Why," said she, " my good young brother, have 3^ou not been praying w^ith the families with whom you stopped, just be- fore leaving them?" "l^o. Sister Jones," said I thoughtfully. " Suppose there is no arrangement made, and I am not invited?" Said she: " My 3^oung brother, you must pray in the families of our people, and it matters not how often; at least, always leave a parting blessing. I put out the Bible through custom. I knovv no other way. Ah!" said she, continuing, "you have a high office now. Do thou only magnify it. You are to mold not only your own cliaracter as a minister of Christ, but you are FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. lOo to help mold the character of our people. When- ever you find the custom wrong, change it for some- thing hetter. Do it by all means. Do it in a gentle- manly, Christian way. :N'obody will fiill out with you for it; but they will love you the more. Just keep yourself in a devotional spirit, and you will succeed; you need not fear. When Mr. Jones and I were young and in our Carolina home, I remem- ber well in pleasant memory how Bishop Andrew, then young like ourselves and you are now, often visited our home. He was a blessing to our house, and never left without a parting prayer. He tauo-ht me how to keep my Bible always ready." This was enough. I was encouraged. I resolved to pray wherever I w^ent, and above all to leave a parting benediction. "Now," said Brother Jones, "I propose to talk to you about the missions before you leave. But I see you have no gun. I think it might serve you a good purpose." "Brother Jones," said I, "do you think that I am preparing to light the Indians ? Do you see that black horse out yonder? That is a regularly trained race -horse; quick to start, yet easily guided and checked. I traded for him on purpose for the missions. I believe in buildinhasis, Tannouneod \ny text: "Now abidoth faith, liope, charity; these threes; ])ut tho groatost of these is oharity." Just at the close of this announcement, I ]ui|»]»oned to look down, and saw my seedy old al[»aca. '^fhen began the struggle as to wlictlier I would preach or not. In very small things are Bomotimos involved gi-eat issues and mighty strug- gles. The movements of an insiutt nerved again tho lieai't, of one of Scotland's chic^fs, and led the way to gloi-ious ti'iuni{>h; but this was leading to inevita- ble and inglorious failures; and yet the gospel is just as im[)oi-ta.nt as Scotch libei'ty. I thought, "Surely my congregation will tliink I am begging," for the old al}>aca was openly l)efore their eyes as an index- finger, with its brown age, rcntH and Bhreds, i>()int- ing to the thouglits in my mind. Well, for once I felt tliat I either had the wrong text or else the wrong coat; but how to make a eliango I could not tell. I was not of the Ilard-HJicll i)or8uasion, or else I might liave i)ulled off the old thing and have laid it on tlie back of a cluiir, as when a l)oy I used to see FIVE YEARS IX THE WEST. 175 the Baptists in Kentucky pull oft* their heavy mixed jean coats, when preaching on a hot summer day. O the young preacher has so many trials and vex- ations! lie is able to bear them and endure simply because he is young and ambitious. I thought, as I began, my congregation were indulging in a smile — not at my mental state, but at the idea of preaching charity by costume. I went on somehow or other, in a crippled way, and filled in a full half hour. I have no doubt but that day I largely emulated the example of some preachers I have seen, who neither filled in the stops with solemn stillness nor "Selah," but with clearing their throats. All my efforts to bring out the idea of love as contained in the text seemed to rne fruitless, since my congregation could plainly see that it was only digging about the base on which that idea of charity in their minds stood, and out of which it grew. It made no difference in what phase I presented the text, the old alpaca stood most prominently before my eyes, and as I thought before the eyes of my congregation. When I was done, I did not know what I had said. I knew I did not say what I intended before I began. At last I quit, feeling more as I did when I preached that remarkable sermon from the first Psalm, in the section of country Avhere my friend "Jesse" lived, than ever at any other time. But at this place I had no friend "Jesse" to help me out by singing. There was an old lady in the congregation at this place who generally helped me to sing. If ever I needed her help, it was at this time; but she would not help me. When I dismissed the congregation, I re- 176 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. proachecl lier for not helping me to sing.' She add- ed, "I do always help you when you have the tune/' Although I knew I could not sing Avell, and was conscious that I did sometimes leave the proper tune for one of my own — always by accident, however, and not from choice — yet this remark of the old lady put the whole machinery of my being in bad work- ing order for the remainder of the day. Her senti- ment was neither romance nor poetry; yet to be so mercilessly pounded, when already murdered and dead, reminded me of the savageness of Indian rule. But I had already learned to endure, and a little of the art of being alive when I was dead. Neither the pounding the old lady gave me nor the promise of a new coat one brother made me was sufficient to kill me entirely. A young preacher, you see, can endure a great deal after he has had time for a litt.le training. In the revolution of my thoughts, I was satisfied that I w^ould recover from the shock, and live to see a better day. The lesson of that day was as valuable to me as the lessons in Clark's Manual, which was in my year's course of study. It caused me to watch myself more vigilantly, not only in my dress, but also in my general deportment. I deter- mined to look more thoroughly into the principles of music, and labor harder than ever before to im- prove my voice, so as to make endurable melody when singing. Some of those things which hap- pened to me were not pleasant at the time, yet I am now glad that they came up in my history, for they were profitable lessons. We sometimes drink a bit- ter cup, but it cures disease. FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 177 But I cannot leave this subject without a word of adieu to the old alpaca. It is properly due to it, since it is the last one I ever wore. Our likes and dislikes of things come often from our experiences. You know the bees s\ung me badly once, when I was a little boy playing in the yard. On this ac- count I could not endure their honey for many years. I never liked the spots where I had sad experiences, when a boy. I do not like alpaca coats — never wear them. Now, since I have left them off, I remember they were always too hot in summer and too cold in winter. If any young preacher wants the heat to break out on him, just let him try one a little exposed to the sun on a hot summer day. The remains of the old alpaca lie near about the spot where I failed in my sermon on charity. I never allowed it to go with me any farther on the mission work, and creep out and do mischief on rainy days. Some Disadvantages. Many of the people on the missions lived in small houses — very small, often but one room. I often thought they ought to do better. They, many of them at least, could have done much better than they did. A single room for cooking, eating, warming, and sleeping, with a rather numerous household, was certainl}^ not pleasant to the family, if at all cul- tivated, and far less so to the stranger who was com- pelled to seek shelter for the night; yet sometimes even the stranger and weary traveler thanked God for the comforts such a place afforded. In the West, of course the young preacher always did the best he 12 178 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. could for himself; yet, notwithstanding his best ef- forts to find accommodation, he was bound to deem h i m sel f u n fo rtu n ate. I will give but a single view of the disadvantages among man^^ on these missions; and from this index inference may be drawn of the strait into which many poor but decent people were sometimes forced, and the consequent punishment they endured. They visited the same as the people in the older settle- ments. Many of them Avashed themselves, put on clean clothes, and looked decent on Sunday. Just think of Sunday morning coming, and the young men wanting to appear clean and in their best suits before their " sweethearts ! " Now, watch them pre- pare, will you? Perhaps a Texas blue IN'orther is blowing. Such a thing is neither uncommon nor unlikely. They stand prominently among the many happenings of the West. These young men, called *'boys," may wash, and even have w^arm w^ater, at the door of the little cabin home; but see them now again going off, each Avith a wdiite shirt and his Sun- day suit on his arm. Where are they going? Either to a place under the hill or, which is more likely, to the shedded rail-pen — there, when the thermometer is half way to zero, to strip and shiver until the un- tidy garb of a week's wear can be exchanged for a brighter suit, one that will be very pleasing to those whom their hearts delight to see. This is no fancy sketch, nor is the picture overdrawn. Now, this way of doing seems to be a necessity with some, yet only a few in comparison with the number who indulge in it. As I have renuirked, FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 179 most of them could do much better. How so many could live years and years this way, without mend- ing or trying to mend their ways, was always a won- der to me. I do not indorse the old adage that "it takes all kinds of people to make the world," but I believe about all kinds are in it; but some of the kinds not of necessity. The Ungoverned Family. To have to live on a puncheon floor will remind the old people of this day of the stories their fathers told them of pioneer days in some of the older States. Under such disadvantages the people could not be as comfortable, nor as easily train their children to good manners, as when circumstances are more fa- vorable; yet many could have done much better than they did, notwithstanding all the disadvan- tages of frontier life. I remember spending a night once with a family which lived eastward of the mis- sions, the father of which was a man of some pre- tensions, and for many ^^ears had been a licensed preacher, but had never graduated to orders. He had a remarkable library for a man of his class, though he never read it — thinking to have knowl- edge in his house was sufficient, without the trouble of getting it into his brain. He was often guilty of a half-spitting, silly laugh through his teeth, which when once seen by sensible people always marked him as a man whose inherent possibilities would never raise him above the plane of a very common man. Yet he was honest and compromising to a fault; a blacksmith b}- trade, as well as a preacher; 180 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. allowing his customers to say how much they should pay him for the work he did for them, which in many cases was a very meager sum — not enough to raise him off the inimitable rickety puncheon floor on which he was raising his rather numerous family. Ilis preaching of course was not wise, yet a few- people, silly like himself, bragged on him; which, however, never reached his own ears without induc- ing the silly laugh, that all decent people like to avoid. This man's compromising spirit entered largely into his own household arrangements; for the man who had not the courage to assess his customers and vindicate the claims of his muscle would naturally lack the courage to correct his own children. Though they had a father, yet they had to be reared without one; for to the eye of the visitor or stranger, they, the father and the children, all appeared to be boys together, enjoying equal rights and privileges; the only discoverable difference was one was bearded and showed more the marks of age. Yet this man, true to the custom of a preacher, held his family prayers; for he had a heart, though not a way, to be obedient in the Church, and to rear his "children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." 'No doubt many funny and some sad and lamentable things happened, and as quickly were forgotten, in his family worship, and other attempts at family government, as is illustrated in the following ac- count. As I said, I w^as with this family once for a night. I felt pained in my heart when I saw the mixed way FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 181 in which parents and children got along. I thought he needed the severest rebuke, and that power to govern should be driven into him some way, even though it might appear after a sledge-hammer fashion, like an Irishman driving spikes into rail- road ties; but being young myself, I did not deem it proper to appear in the ofhce of such an adminis- trator. But the hour arrived for prayers, and of course I had to lead. Thin2:s went on well enouofh until we bent our knees in worship, for I, being a stranger, was a sort of novelty to the family of children, who on this account took up more time in gazing, and therefore put in less with their capers. But early in our prayer a rat had found its way up through the puncheon floor into the room where we were all on our knees, and found it verj^ difficult to get back again. The boj^s were always ready, and never lost an opportunity when there was a chance for amusement or fun. They had sufficient training not to forget they w^ere at prayers, and no one pre- sumed to get off his knees. The rat in the room was intensely exciting to the boys. They took all liberty in the chase except to get off their knees. The first large whisper I heard ^was, "Dick, did you stop the hole?'' Then commenced the sport with the boys in earnest. Hear them: "There he comes, Joe; catch him!" "Look out, Ben; I seen him there by you ! '" " Kun him this way, Dick; I '11 fix him!" These and such like loud whispers go round and round. At the same time they pushed their chairs and ran on their knees. For did it cease until about the time the "amen" was pro- 182 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. iiounced, at which time the rat had found his way out again. I did expect for once that this father would give those, as I regarded, not rude but neg- lected boys a solemn lecture; but not a word fell from his lips to them. He looked toward me, and with his silly laugh through his teeth, remarked: "Didn't the boys get into a tantrum?" Whether this brother was right or not in his use of the word tantrum^ I did not stop to discuss. It was not now a question over a word, but of principle. There was a spirit of manhood in me, and it was rising to meet this emergency. Though no general sermon-reader, yet I remembered that Wesley had a sermon on family government. I knew he had Wesley's ser- mons in his library. Said I: " My brother, will you have patience to hear me read a sermon?" He said he would. I then drew down from the shelf the book, and read to him Wesley's sermon on training children. When I finished it, I simply added: "My brother, you are neglecting j^our children, and they may come to ruin." The wife of this man had been patient through all the proceedings until now. I saw she was anxious and determined to say some- thing, and I was in dread lest she might turn her tongue on me for the liberty I used toward her husband, and that I would have to look like a galley-slave. But no; in this I was disappointed most agreeabl}^ Said she, turning her eyes on her husband: "Wesley is right, and you are wrong. I have told you for a long time these boys would be hanged some day; and that will be a sad time to you, when you know that you will be the cause of it. I FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 183 have tried and tried to govern them, hut I cannot govern them by m3'self, and there is just no use in trying any longer. You have just got to govern, or else you will find trouble ahead." Here the good wife broke down with her closing remarks, as women sometimes do. She was evidently fretted, and saw full well the folly and danger of neglect in family government. The husband held his headdown like a repenting sinner. Even the children for once looked solemn. I verily believe if a rat had ob- truded on the puncheon floor it w^ould not have broken the stillness. It was an occasion, such as one might desire, to sow good seed. The ground was well prepared. I tried to make the time profitable, and as well as I remember said: "My dear brother and sister, it is not too late. Only be mutual helps to each other. Spend a few minutes each day in friendly, private talk about your children and how they should be trained. Remember the claims Heaven has on you, and how you will have to give an account for your folly and neglect. Be strict, not severe. Be parents; not like a master and mistress, domineering over your children as though they were slaves. Study well the future interest of your children, and God will bless you and help you bring them up in his nurt- ure and admonition." These remarks closed the evening. I believe they did good. 1 trust with better hearts we all retired to rest. O what a power there is in words! What a stream of good or evil flows from them! Anacharsis, the Scythian, said: *' Words are more vivifying than the showers of 184 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. spring, and sharper than the sword of destruction." Solomon sa^^s: "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver." DiSMISSfING THE MISSIONS, ETC. But I at last began to close up my work on the missions, and to make preparation for the ensuing Conference. In reference to the preceding sketches and anecdotes, I must say they are as true as I have language to narrate them. My object has not been to give them a burnished or gilded appearance, but to stick closely to the facts in the case of each one, using language only clever enough not to make you weary in hearing them. Now, while such things might be continued to farther length, I pro- pose to break the monotony, and proceed with the closing up of the mission work. I left the work organized with twenty-five appointments. A few of those taken in at first were dropped off on ac- count of good reasons, and others were added, so that the above-named number stood at the close of the year. I had preached a little more than one hundred times after the order of my ability, and had traveled on the work, according to my best count, upward of three thousand miles. I found many warm-hearted people, and made many friends. Toward the last I felt remarkably contented with myself. I had made it a point to lose no appoint- ment — to do the work of a preacher as best I could. In order to this, I put aside personal convenience and inclination, and went through heat and cold, well fed or hungry, housed at night in the little FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 185 cabin of the frontiersman or canopied by the tent of the immigrant, preaching, traveling, visiting, talking to the children — which was always an easy and pleasant task with me; sometimes wearied, but never out of humor; sometimes wet, but always got dry again; sometimes in tears, but they always ceased to flow. Thank God for tears! a hundred times they carried me out of the darkness of night into the beautiful day-dawn. Leaving the missions was like leaving friends again at home. I was greatly afraid I would not be sent back; yet I know not why. There was no good accommodation — not a house on the entire work built exclusively for preaching. I had not seen any thing called a pulpit since I had been out. It was, I suppose, a hard work, though I did not know it at the time. It was a place to be exposed, to sacrifice, and to suffer. Your preacher- boy was only passing through what many others were bear- ing at the same time. Here I learned to endure, for I had a nature that would not revolt. I became a minister of the gospel honestly, and, as I under- stand, in obedience to God's will. He planted me there, and only once was I tempted to desert the cause. But he provided for me even then. I had learned to preach after my own style now without much trouble. I had received twenty dollars solid gold missionary money. I had received along-side of this from the people— in the way of boots, hats, tobacco, and other things, with a few dollars mixed along— thirty-nine dollars and twenty-five cents. My wages received aggregated fifty-nine dolhirs and 186 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. twenty-five cents; yet I was not discouraged, but was ready to go to Conference. I went as well clad as the average preacher, for I had plenty notwith- standing — a pleasant ranch with some increasing and growing stock, on which I could draw any day. I was prosperous, notwithstanding all my reverses. But I will not dismiss the missions until I refer to a little circumstance by which I became convinced that I had made improvement. I had not been out on the missions long before I conceived the idea of writing a few sermons, to be used on extra occa- sions. Before the year closed, I had a little manu- script volume of twelve sermons. I felt very proud of these. Several of them I thought sufficiently wor- thy to be preached anywhere and in any place. I had drawn on that manuscript volume several times, as the year w^as going out. One leisure day, toward the last of the work, I thought I would do as I sup- pose young preachers have often done — select and prepare one of my best sermons, and hold it in readi- ness, laid aside; for may be I might be called on to preach at Conference. So I concluded to spend that day among the thoughts contained in my manuscript volume. I soon had it out from among the other things I had stowed away in my "treasury depart- ment," was glad of the opportunity, and opened it for a real treat. I began to read and look at the divisions I had made. I was not "well pleased. I tried to reconcile my thoughts with the status of the manuscript, but my thoughts would be revolution- ary — my mind would not endure it. I tried one sermon after another, all with the same dislike. The FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 187 very things I once appreciated in them most I now thought most trifling. The sentiments I once thought necessary to give a sermon completeness, and set it off with fine, finished touches, appeared now most unworthy. I looked on, and found I was more rhetorical than profound; that I had imhibed a style too bombastic. I became thoroughly dis- gusted with my manuscript sermons, and my preach- ing generally, and longed for another round on the missions, to show the people a different and, as I thought, a better style of preaching. I felt like I wanted to correct some things, at least. I committed that manuscript volume to the flames before the going down of the sun — was glad that it was the only copy in existence. I was now com- pletely revolutionized in my thoughts, and I resolved to be more profound, but not less rhetorical. I think it all evinced that I had made progress in my understanding. As is common with many young preachers, I had become a little vainglorious — thought more highly of myself than I ought; had been drinking all the sentiments of praise I could get and longing for more, not knowing that those had a tendency more to make a fool of a man than to do him good. Be- cause some young lawyer said I could beat the pre- siding elder preaching, I thought surely if I had not already made my mark that I would at least be a wonderful man some day. I never failed to drink in all the words of flattery I could catch. If any one said I was a good preacher, it only confirmed the private opinion already existing in my mind, ^ow 188 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. as I retrospect the past, it all looks like a great weakness in me. I found out years afterward that the presiding elder could beat rae preaching badly; that poor judges, even though they be lawyers, and weak-minded people, praise the young preacher. I did not remember in after-years that the sensible and the wise had ever spoken words that tended to excite my vanity — only those who do not know what good preaching is, who take vehemence for doctrine, and sound for sense. But somehow I weathered through this crisis of the young preacher, and when among my seniors I behaved as decorously as I knew how, whatever the inward consciousness I had of myself. I sometimes wondered why they did not put me up on the great occasions, and let all the people get their eyes open like a certain young lawyer, and see that I could in- deed beat the presiding elder preaching. Now, my dear mother, I know you want the true history of your preacher-boy, yet some of it, you see, is not praiseworthy of him. Yet I know yoii have the wisdom to know the things that try the young preacher, and how narrowly he escapes many evils, and that the one w^ho graduates to deliberate man- hood and sobriety unscathed would be a marvel on the pages of history. Your preacher-boy only passed through the stages in the ministry that every mother's son in the ministr}^ has tried. Many a young preach- er, I imagine, has traveled along these paths, and has been affected by them. Many more yet unborn in the ministry w^ill never see our foot-prints, and there- fore, not knowing a way of escape, will be similarly FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 189 impressed. It is well enough even for a young preacher to think well of himself, but by all means never be vainglorious and pufted up; for there is more hope for a fool than for a man who is wise in his own conceit. Advice of ak Old Preacher — Going to Conference Again. On my way to Conference, I fell in company with an old preacher, a man whom I had known from boyhood, who had found his way to Texas, and who knew something of the hardships and trials of the frontier as well as myself. He was an itinerant of experience, and therefore knew much more of Conference business and Conference appointments than I did. I had my "treasury department" with me, but felt it a little burdensome. It is true, as al- ready observed, I had made it lighter by burning up that iveighty volume, my manuscript sermons; yet it seemed heavy — too heavy, I thought, to be carried two hundred and fifty miles on horseback. I sympa- thized also with my faithful George, who had already one hundred and eighty pounds of mortality to bear, and who, notwithstanding, had never once treated me unkindly, but who, on the contrary, had been with me in perils of the Indians and in perils of the cyclone. In view of the distance, and how reason- able I thought it was to be sent back to some mis- sion or circuit not remote from where I had been, I said to my fellow-traveler: "My brother, I believe I will lighten my treasury; for I think if I am not sent back to the missions I will certainly be sent 190 PIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. back to some place in this section not very remote." This good brother, with the true foresight of a reg- ular itinerant, in a fatherly and rather solemn man- ner said: " My young brother, let me give you a lit- tle advice. You are inexperienced, and do not understand Methodist economy yet. You do not know what is to become of you. It is all uncertain. You may be sent hundreds of miles the other way. Kemember this is a large Conference in its territory — nearly twice as large as the State you came from. The young unmarried preacher lives on horseback more than any other. He never needs a wagon. His treasury department, as you denominate the historic saddle-bags, carries his estate of clothing and books. Carry it all along, and be ready. You will have no time to come back two hundred and fifty miles for things that are left.'^ I took this advice with a willing mind. I left nothing behind — was determined to go, it made no difference where; but still I thought, Surely I will be sent back somewhere not far off' from where I had been traveling. I was acclimated in that part of the great Empire State. I understood the people in that section, and regarded myself adapted to them. It mio^ht impair my health to be sent into pine wood- land districts, or into the southern malarial por- tions. These things, I thought, would be seen and looked after by the appointing authority. But when I consented to take every thing with me, I thought but little more of it. In going to Conference this time, I felt none of the burden bearing on me and pressing me down that FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 191 I felt one year before. I had been tried, and I was fully established in the ministry. I loved it above all thino;s. It was my meat and drink now to preach. Though I did not do it well, yet I thought I did; and in this was my enjoyment. I know I always did my best. I was greatly improved — never had learned as much in one year in all my life. It ap- peared like a poor chance to improve, but the work of the missions kept me fully awake. This is the proper condition of mind in w^hich to learn. Full em- ployment is necessary to development. My knowl- edge came in from all sources. I learned from ob- servation, from conversation, through prayer, through preaching, by studying, and patient endurance. I felt quite an easy conscience, and therefore went in peace. At Conference Again. Meeting at Conference was a renewal of old friend- ships. Thank God for such reunions! How pleas- ant it is to see brethren dwell together in unity! How joyous the occasion when brethren meet who have not seen each other's faces for a year! How pleasant to narrate the incidents, and give sketches from life portraiture over a district of country four hundred miles across! But how exceedingly lovely to tell how through Christ we had assembled again in triumph! How rich the pleasure when no one has degraded his ministerial character — when no one has trailed Immanuel's banner! But here is a meeting in which men are tried. Joints that are made of clay are sure to fall to pieces. 192 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. Only true metal will stand the fiery trials through which these servants of God are called to pass, and on which they are now beginning to enter. The whole public heart at this time was getting into the throes of the war between the States. It was tear, ivar, and of course the Church would suffer. It was very evident that the minister had a great charita- ble work to do. He had to preserve the Church on poor pay. How appropriate the lesson from the presiding officer! " We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in de- spair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed." It was read deliberately and in solemn tone. Then the hymn — And are we yet alive, And see each other's face? — gave unction to the occasion. Yes, we were alive who were there, but some had passed over to their rich inheritance. Others there were who would never meet on another such occasion. It all looked solemn. I felt solemn. Many an eye dropped a tear. Thank God for tears ! When the body of man is dry and scorched with fever, what a relief comes when the pores of the skin are opened and nature bejj^ins again her regular work! When the soul of man is all broken and bruised, if God will only open the lachrymal canals, that it may give forth its ac- knowledgments through tears to him and to the world, a great relief is found. God has provided a way for the soul to sweat off' its trouble — "Jesus wept." Tears came through the body, but they came from the fountain of the soul. how I like a FIVE YEAES IN THE WEST. 193 healthy lachrymal canal and the big sensible tear that on proper occasions comes dropping, dropping down — pouring out the state of the soul ! It always makes a man feel better. But ah ! a fevered body that can- not sweat, and a bowed, sorrowing spirit that can- not Aveep! Here is pain, here is trouble without re- lief. They are both subjects alike of pity. Yet I believe the lachrj^mal canal may be un- healthy. Chronic tears are as bad as not to weep at all, or even worse. There are a few preachers who cannot preach for crying; some who hoist their flood-gates even when there is no pathos in their pe- riods and little reason in their words. It is disgust- ing when the narrator of anecdotes does all the laughing. It is alike unpleasant when the preacher does all the w^eeping. That preacher does well when he can open the lachrymals of his congregation first. Then it is always legitimate for him to weep along with them, if he so desires. Beading the Appointments. At last the Conference came to a close. The fin- ishing stroke always is reading the appointments. This exercise never fails to awaken deep interest. A district was called, but not the one I was from — my name is not mentioned in manning that. Just as I expected, they were saving me for the same old district. Another district is called, but my name had no connection with it. Filially the district I was from was called. N'ow I listened. They will put me on that somewhere, surely; but somehow they missed my name. Finally they came to next 13 194 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. to the last district. Every place is named and filled. Still my name is left out. " What does it all mean? " thought I. " They have called all the country I ever heard of, and more too, and yet they have neither called my name nor given me a place. Have they dropped my name from the roll? Why, surely they have. I wonder if in this business they ever over- look a fellow entirely. Accidents do happen some- times. Surely there is a big mistake somewhere." But by and by I stopped these surmisings, and waited to hear it all through — remembering a good brother as I came down, advising me to take every necessary thing with me, said, "You don't know what is to become of you." Well, I did n't. But hear. They are on the last district. Name after name is called, and a preacher is placed. Finall}^ they are all called but one. At last the president, in a clear, sonorous voice, cries out, "Blank Station ! " Another pause, as if looking to find the man, and then in a voice equally clear rang out the name of your preacher-boy; and this closed the drama of the call. I had been in Texas for some time, but had never heard of that place. I did not know whether it was in Texas or not, but supposed it was. I said meekly to a brother sitting by me, "Do you know where that station is?" " Ko," said he, "I never hard of it before." I moved among the brethren making inquiries, for I did not know to which cardinal-point it lay. Finally one brother spoke up and said, " Yes, I know where it is." "Where?" said I with anx- ious inquiry. Said he: "Your station is away down yonder so far in Texas that if you make a step south FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 195 yon will drown in the Gulf of Mexico, and if you step east you leave the State entirely. It is a mon- strous fishy place." I asked him if he had ever been there. He said, '^ No, nor do I care to." Another preacher, who I did not know was taking interest in our conversation, said: "Have courage, my young brother; you will see many novel things down there. Ships in abundance, and people from everywhere. You will get to 'see old ocean, and hear it roar.' You can spend a leisure hour now and then shoot- ing alligators and catching fish." " Thank you, my good brother," said I; "this is comforting. I think I shall like the place. I have always had a desire to see 'old ocean.'" Another preacher, as I sup- posed to try me, said, "Are you going there?" I looked up at him. His lip curled a little humor- ously. I made him no reply, for I w^as not ready for such thrusts. I could not help feeling a little serious. I now fully realized the truth of the good brother's instruction: "Take all your things with you, for you do not know what is to become of you." Thoughts — Rest — Start for the Station. My promotion to a station reminded me very much of a remark of one of Caesar's soldiers. When this soldier, a member of the historic Tenth Legion, was temporarily promoted to be a cavalryman for Coesar's personal safety during the colloquy he had with Ariovistus, he humorously said: '^Flus quani pol- licitus esset Coesarem facere; poUicitiim se in cohort- is prcetorice loco (lecim.am legionem habiturum; ad equum rcscribere.^^ Now, I was evidently promoted, 19G FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. but neither as a body-guard nor cavalryman for Cwsar. While on the missions, I belonged to the cavalry arm of the ministry;, but in the station, I supposed I would not have much use for a horse. But let us look at the character of the promotion. It was from missions to a station, from a saddle to a footman, from dry lands to much w^ater, from the Western wilds four hundred miles south-east to city life, from all acquaintanceship to a place among strangers, from the back of a chair to a pulpit, from the cabins of the frontiersmen to comfortable dwell- ings, from ox-teams to steam-ships, from the time kept by a watch to the sound of a church-bell. I slept soundly through the night, and aw^oke next morning much refreshed. I felt exceedingly anxious to see how things appeared in the place where I was assigned to duty. Earlier than the preachers gen- erally, I w^as out on the street, mounted, and inquir- ing the w^ay to . One gentleman said, "All I know^ about it is, they go south," pointing that way. Then it w^as good-by to the seat of the Conference, good-by to the few friends I saw, and turning the face of George, my faithful and only companion, southward, I moved off for the Gulf of Mexico, feeling assured that if I saw nobody on the way, I could find the place b}^ coasting. I w^as glad I had brought all my necessary things with me; for to have gone after them would have cost me five hundred miles extra riding, and the station in wdiich I was assigned to duty a loss of half a month's time. I attributed my good luck in this respect to the fore- sight and kindly advice of the good brother who FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 197 told me to take all my things along, and meditated much that day upon what he laconically said: ^^You do not know what is to become of you.''' Observations on the Way. Of course the journey was not made without its share of novelty and incidents. For several days I traveled on horseback. The thing that struck me most forcibly was the deep solitude of pine forests. How strangely in contrast they were with the short, shrubby growth of the cross-woods skirting, and in some places edging far into the missions I had left! and how much in contrast with the wide, open prai- ries in which no forest grove of shrub or tree inter- cepts the vision, or interferes with the soft undula- tion of hill and vale which there we so often see! Upon the traveler unused to it, the deep, dark shades of thick, heavy pineries place a spirit of loneliness, and upon none perhaps more than upon one who has grown accustomed to the bright light of the ex- pansive plains in the "far West." Finally, however, I came to a place where it was necessary for me to change my mode of traveling. It was at a place generally called "the Bluff." It had a prefix to distinguish the generic term, but this w^as the local expression of it. When the skeptic with whom I lodged found my destination and bus- iness, he became very persistent in his persuasions that I did not need a horse down there, stating the great price I would have to give for corn, and that it would be very expensive to take him along. From all I gathered from him and other sources, I became 198 FIVE YEARS IN THE \VEST. convinced that it would not at all pay me to have a horse in the station where there was every conven- ience for '* boating it" about. But how hard it was for me to consent to part with my faithful compan- ion, whose service to me T could never reward! But by the force of circumstances, and with much regret, I resolved to part with a dumb creature between whom and mj^self there was the tenderest mutual attachment; and on account of this very thing, to- gether with the services he rendered me, I have al- ways cherished his memory with emotions of pleas- ure. I might here speak of a time when probably George and I might meet again, and in a renewal of our friendship find much mutual pleasure, but I have already given you the incident by which in- dulging thoughts and giving expression to them on this line resulted in evil — even the loss of a congre- gation. I therefore make no argument on that line. I shall only patiently wait and see the unmeasured developments that lie deeply hidden in the mind of Him "in whose hand is the soul of every living creature." There being no competition in buyers, I left my faithful horse in the hands of the skeptic with whom I lodged for the night, who, I had evi- dences to believe, notwithstanding, treated his horses with more kindness than many Christians. I re- ceived for him one hundred dollars, as I thought only two-thirds of his value. Soon after parting with George, I got aboard a steam-boat, the Sunflower, Captain Clemmens com- manding — a clever, genial officer; one who, so far as I could discover, respected God and his cause. On FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 190 the way clown, I found there was aboard a young minister, Brother A . Though he did not go all the way, yet we had a pleasant time alternating be- tween conversation and shooting at alligators. I remained aboard the Sunflower, and took breakfast on it next morning, it being late at night when I arrived at my station. Impbessions of the Place. Here I was, on one of the most beautiful morn- ings I ever saw, at my destination. My eyes fell upon things in strange contrast with all I had ever seen before. I heard no caroling of birds to tell me the light of day had come again; at least, if there were such things, I did not heed them. The music that saluted my ears on awaking was " old ocean in its roar" — a music as undying as the waters are ex- isting, w^hose symphony never ceases day nor night. The morning was so beautiful and quiet that all alarming symptoms left my mind, and I began to feel a readiness to make myself known, and enter upon my duty in the place. I stepped off the boat alone and "single-handed." Every face looked strange to me, and some were talk- ing other than the English language. I looked at those passing here and there, as if judging human nature. Finally my eye struck my man and I hailed him. Said I: "Sir, do you know any preachers in this place?" "Yes," said he, "I know two, and I believe that is all ; one is a Presbyterian and the other a Methodist." " Very good," said I, " and thank you. Will you please direct me to the Methodist minis- 200 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. ter's house?" This he did with care, and kindly. I therefore soon found myself at a place that felt like a home, and for which I devoutly thanked God. But this man was greatly afflicted. It was caused from exposure while traveling and preaching the word. The veins of his legs were so enlarged that he could not get about only by keeping them tightly laced w^ith slips made for the purpose. This minis- ter, however, was a great help to me in getting an introduction to the place. There were here a battalion of cavalry encamped in barracks out southward of the city, if city it might be called, for it was a place of only a few hundred inhabitants. There was also a fort of earth-works below at the mouth of the harbor, and a few com- panies of soldiers with an armament of cannon and small arms. Lying off the harbor might be seen now and then a huge ship called "a blockader," watching for any craft that might be attempting either to pass out or to come in. The orange-trees were rich with their fruit, and the season of ripen- ing was at hand. This beautiful yellow fruit looked invitingly as it hung in lovely contrast, intermixed with the deep green foliage of the trees that bore it. 'No fruit-bearino^ tree is more beautiful than the or- ange-tree at this season of the year. The soil had more the consistence of baked tar than any I ever saw. All cultivation was with the spade and hoe. There were no fields, only small garden-patches. In order to make these gardens more of a loose loani, they mixed in shells, ashes, and many other extra- neous substances. It was not unusual to sec ijarden FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. . 201 soil held in by plank much elevated above the com- mon level as it had from time to time been improved by mixing in other substances. Here were ships and smaller sea craft at anchor, seeming to hesitate as to what was best, but occasionally sailing out and tak- ing the risk of capture. First Sebmon in the Station. But by and by Sunday came, which was the sec- ond from the close of the Conference, and I was to occupy the pulpit. The pulpit, did I say? Yes, the pulpit. Why, I had never preached in a pulpit, and had seen but few of them since I had been licensed to preach. But the bell sounded, and the people and the new preacher w^ere soon face to face — that is, as much so as the pulpit Avould allow, for it was rather a huge piece of architecture, unduly tall, with a column at each end a foot or two higher, to act as lamp-rest whenever there was need of lamps. These columns obstructed the vision in those quarters, and appeared to trouble me as I sat back a little restless, with scarcely from my eyebrows upward visible to my audience, and knowing that the columns would be above my shoulders when standing. The place and situation were in strange contrast with my for- mer experience. My preaching was strictly after my own style, and the sermon, as I suppose, con- tained nothing odd in it, as nobody laughed, cried, or talked during the delivery of it. Just befo.re dis- missing the congregation, I recommended to their consideration the cutting off of those ungainly and troublesome columns on a plane with the book-board. 202 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. This awakened some smiles, pleasant or otherwise I could not at the time comprehend. It matters not to say what became of those columns, but all people do observe that such a fault in architecture is now corrected in all progressive places. Fishing and Fishers. As has been already observed, this was "a mon- strous fishy place." The fish ordinarily taken with the seine was the mullet, which is a fish of small size but well flavored. The manner of seining is on this w^ise: Leaving one end held in the hands of the fish- ing party on shore, the seine is placed aboard a skift'. The skiff' is then rowed oft*, dropping out the seine as it moves until it comes around in its circuit to shore again, with the other end of the seine near to the place of starting. The seine is held near to the sur- face by floats, and sinks by weights. Then comes the hardest labor attached to the business — drawins: the seine to shore. This is done by the whole party on shore. Two or three skiffs go round to render any assistance that may be needed in case of its hanging. Sometimes a man has to leave his skiff and dive under to do the disentangling; but being accustomed to the water, he goes under without word or hesi- tation. One haul is all the party ever make, for they always get more fish than they want. They select the best, and put the others back into the wa- ter. The party being always on the water, and al- most daily accustomed to such sights, do not appear enlivened, and to see sport in the business like Ken- FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. -03 tuckians and Tennesseans, but simply as any other business to get something to eat. But there was another mode of lishiug practiced here. It was the ordinary way practiced by Ken- tuckians on the creeks of that State— a line, sinker, and bait, but no pole. A bar of lead fastened to the line within a foot of the hook answered for a sinker, and an ounce of fresh beef for a bait— a 'picket or stake was driven in the ground, to which the end of the line was fastened, and the baited end was by a whirl- ing motion thrown a hundred feet or more out into the strait. Then the lisherman only had to sit and w\ait and watch his line, which was never very long if it was a day for fish to bite, before he saw it be- ginning to move. The fisherman then, if awkward in the management of his game, sometimes got his hands sharply cut by the line. It was often no easy job, and required some skill, to successfully bring to shore from a distance of a hundred feet, holding to a small line, a fish weighing from six to forty pounds. The experience some had with the large ones made them wish that only the small ones would bite. The place of general fishing was a place of two banks; the first one broke off abruptly, and was about three feet above the other, which gradu- olly sloped to the water's edge. The fish was in the end of the struggle first hauled by hook and line on this first gradually sloping bank. If a small one,^ then lifted in the same way to the upper bank; but if a heavy one, the fisherman went down to where it w^as, put his hands in its gills and threw it on the bank above. These fish never fioundercd like Ken- 204 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. tucky minnows, but after their great struggle in the water, their energy appeared to be entirely broken down, and they quietly yielded themselves to their fate. The best time for fishing was either at the beginning of the ebbing or flowing of the tide. The kind of fish generally taken w^ere red fish, fresh- water cat, or salt-water cat, according to the way the tide was moving. But the fisherman soon learns to draw in his tackle and go home, when a school of the porpoise come near. They are fishers them- selves, and when they move about in numerous shoals, making now and then drumming sounds, the smaller fish getting intermixed with them become embarrassed and are taken. It is nothing unusual to see the smaller fish leaping out of the water when embarrassed in these schools. There was another kind of fishing done here. The men who followed it were a weather-stained, dirty-looking class, w^ho either did not know how or else had no heart to aspire above a little hut and a skift' as their full stock of propert}^ They em- ]»hatically obtained daily their daily bread. How they managed on Sunday I did not learn. Whether like the children of Israel they got a double supply for one day in each week, I know not; but one thing is true, they had the liberty of the waters, and the oyster-reefs were free. By being out early you might see these oyster-men unlocking their skifts and start- ing on their daily labor. Of course, each one in a skifi[' to himself, and in rowing always has his back toward the point of destination; yet he never looks to see, but makes his landing at the i)recise point he FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 205 desires witliout ever looking once ahead. He is simply governed by the position and range of ob- jects on shore. When once landed, then begins his work of loading, whicli is done with long-handled tongs of short grapple. One part of the long handle is pressed against his shoulder, the other is held stiffly in his hands; and thus standing in his skift", he breaks the oysters loose from their reef and lifts them with the same implement into the skilF. When loaded, with the same precision and skill he comes again to shore, and immediately begins the work of opening the shells, which is in some respects done after the fashion of a Kentucky boy out with his little bucket gathering berries — he will now and then slip one into his mouth. So this oyster-man, who no doubt is hungry by this time, as he opens the shells divides between his bucket and mouth. But when the work is finished, which is generally toward the close of day, he again locks his skiff to shore, and starts for his little hut, where wife and children are waiting for his daily earnings; but he goes by a trading-shop and exchanges his oysters for family supplies such as his judgment teaches him to get. Here I learned to love oysters, but never took any stock in this kind of fishing. Hon. William L. Yancey. While here, I witnessed the return to our country of the Hon. Wm. L. Yancey, who had been sent early in the war between the States to the court of Si. James as an agent of the Confederate Government. The manner of his return fully illustrated the ex- 200 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. tremity of the South even at that time. The ports were all blockaded, and it was just now and then a vessel could slip in or out. This gentleman exer- cised the precaution necessary to make it safely back to his native land. He came in aboard the schooner Stingeray on one of the stormiest evenings I ever saw. He came by way of Cuba, and of course prac- tically in disguise. He represented the British Gov- ernment as stoical on Southern recognition; that the government was exceedingly politic, and had great patience to wait and see; that the English people were not at all affected by the cry that "cotton is king; " that in his opinion the English Government would never recognize the Southern Confederacy until they became greatly changed in sentiment. He did not speak at all encouragingly of the matter. He appeared to be exceedingly open in all his state- ments in reference to the policy and intentions of the English Government, and left the impression that we were in the struggle, and must unaided and with but little sympathy fight our own battle. Wm. L.Yancey was exceedingly Southern — a man of strong convictions and of very decided character. You did not have to thump him and sound him to get at his principles. They stood prominently to view like the strongly written features of his face. Though a little wanting in conservatism, yet he was as pious in his intentions and as philosophic in thought as the effeminate statesman who graduall}^ for want of courage to defend, compromises away his country's liberty under the authority of statute law. However much people may differ, there is FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 207 something to adiiiire in the character of such a man as he was. Whatever cause he espoused, he never uttered a word nor did an act that weakened it. Anchoeed in a Lake. Having had the liberty of so large a territory on the missions just previous to this station work, I felt a little oppressively the confinement. I was in- vited to visit and preach in a couple of little towns above, distant about thirty -five or forty miles. I con- cluded to go under the invitation, inasmuch as for some cause neither one just in those times had any preaching in regular order. A lake of water twenty- five miles in diameter lay between my station and those towns, and in order to reach them had to be crossed. This was done variously, either in small sailing vessels or by steam-boats. I went up to one of these towns on a small sailing vessel, and had a pleasant voyage. When I got ready to return, the onl}^ vessel that was at hand was the smallest steam- boat I ever saw, called The Dim^. I took passage aboard this little craft, and was soon on my return voyage. Every thing went well enough until we had got far out into the lake, when the little animal which I was riding was found to be pitching at a furious rate — up and over again, not very unlike some of the mustangs used to do me in the West when they wished to unlade before I had steered them into port. '' What is this, captain?" said I. *'A gale, sir," answered he. " What is that you have down there?" "Cast anchor, sir." "Why don't you go on and get out of the storm ? " " Can't make 208 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. any headway, sir." "Then, why do you not turn round and go back? " '^It would be dangerous not to keep the bow to the wind and tide, sir." Here I hesitated, thought of Jonah, and wondered. The little animal^ lariated in the middle of the lake, kept its face full fronting the gale and tide, would rear up and go over every surge of the water seemingly as statedly as a time-moving pendulum. The cap- tain told me that it would be very dangerous if the rope that held it should break. Of course I knew all about the running, braying, pitching, and caper- ing of a mustang when the picket pulled up or the lariat broke. "Captain, how long since you were caught out this way?" "This is my first time, sir." "How long have you been navigating this water?" "Twenty- live years." "Do you know any captain that has been caught this way?" "Not exactly, sir." Just then I looked down the boat, and saw by its motion of riding the waves that it was limber, a thing I had never noticed in any steam-boat. Said I, rather anx- iously: "Captain, did you know your boat is lim- ber? " He looked and saw it springing and bending as it rode the waves, and remarked with little con- cern: "Steam-boats are not built like ships, stayed with masts and ropes, but all of them are limber." It was now about midday. Said I, again: "How long do you think this gale will last?" "I think it will all be over by to-morrow," said he. "Do you think your boat can stand it until to-morrow?" "I think so, if it do n't get any worse." " But if it breaks FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 209 in two?" said I, lamentinglj. "Then we will hold to the pieces," said he. This was enough. I was the only passenger aboard. I retired to my berth thinking of this brave captain, who seemed to be as much composed as if no gale had struck and troubled his little craft. The gale continued, and all the motions of the vessel, until just twelve o'clock at night, when the rain be- gan to beat heavily and to pour down as a flood. It seemed that the waters of another lake had been raised and were pouring down again in this. Light- ning flashes were seen, but no note of thunder was heard above the general roar. The little boat on which we rode rose, plunged, and struggled for its position like a brave warrior in furious combat. In the pitchy darkness of the night I could not see how much it was bending. I was now fully impressed it would bear through; for if it had intended to come to pieces, it would have done so long ago. When the storm lulled and the waves became broken, it did appear that the little thing would shake itself to pieces. It acted like a thing in full muscular ex- ercise, without a nerve-power to give it regular mo- tion. There we staid until day-dawn. About nine o'clock in the morning, under a beautiful sky, as though nothing unusual had occurred, with a glad- some heart, and I reckon with a pleasant smile, I rode the little animal still alive into the port of my station. I conclude by saying I felt very morally inclined. 14 21-0 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. Mt Last Days m the Station. ■ From the first it was evident to my mind that the station work would not be pleasant to me. To go with a mission and yet not be able to carry it out, because the minds of the people were diverted to the war which had now commenced in great ear- nestness, tended in a great degree to keep me uncom- fortable. The war was the all-absorbing topic, and the signs of it were visible all around my little sta- tion. Blockaders were almost continuously in sight. The people were in dread that their little city would be taken. Vessels were occasionally slipping in and out, and sometimes one run down and captured, in full open view of the city. The smoke of the can- non and the vertical spray of the shot falling on the water were plainly visible, as well as the hearing of the booming roar. It was war, war, and the people's minds and hearts were fixed in it in a great degree to the neglect of the proper worship of God. I turned my attention partly to preaching to the soldiers. They listened well, and many of them were Christians. I enjoyed their society. They were out on the front, but appeared less excited on the great question at issue than the common people. They presented none of the appearance of a piece of work- ing machinery so much as they did the great fact that each one was a machine within himself, acting on the broad ground of the principle involved. I left and went to the war. This begins a new line of thought, because it was a new line of opera- tion. But now, dear mother, I know you are weary FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 211 and must have rest. We shall have to take another evening to finish our report. But tell me what stranger that is in the other room, whom I could see through the window, and who ap- peared to be so busy writing all the time of my nar- ration. Mother: "Why, that is our short-hand reporter." Author: " What has he been writing so much?" Mother: "He has taken down your narrative for me." Author: "What do you want with it?" Mother: "Why, I am going to publish it." Author: " Why, is it so you are still prankish as in the days when you were my young mother and I your little boy at your knee? Has time not changed you even in this?'' Mother: "It has all been prearranged, for we knew you would tell us something we want to keep; and it shall be fairly done, with such revisal as may be needed." The End.