LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY Of NORTH CAROLINA,
Endowed by the Dialectic and Philantnropic Societies.
Call No. el's «— O^^o
c
/^^
00006794098
This BOOK may be kept out TWO WEEKS
ONLY, and is subject to a fine of FIVE CENTS
a day thereafter. It was taken out on the day
indicated below:
r
One of the Wonders of the Acje ;
OR,
THE LIFE AND TIMES
OF
WAKE COUNTY, NORTH CAEOLINA,
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF, AT THE SOLICITATION OF FRIENDS, AND FOR
THE BENEFIT OF ALL WHO READ IT,
— WITH SUPPLEMENT —
B'y HIS sonsr, hc. o. olive.
RALEIGH :
Edwards, Broughton & Co., Power Printers and Binders.
i886.
PREFACE.
Soon after father's recovery from the deep affliction
of soul through which he passed, many of ins friends
and acquaintances were anxious to hear his account of
these sore trials.
The movings of his mind were so clearly marked
through this period that he found no difficulty in re-
, tracing his steps even to the minutest events.
Regarding this affliction as a providence of God, he
ever spoke of this period with deep interest and cheer-,
fulness; feeling that that whereunto it had been sent
had been accomplished. To make his own life and
experience too prominent in his ministry he felt would
be wrong. It was right that he should draw from the
lessons he had learned, yet his duty was to preach
Christ and not himself. Constant enquiry after inci-
dents of his life, especially the five years of complete
silence from the ministry, wherein he now felt tha-t
God in His mercy had led him, and the frequent re-
quest that FTe should leave a record of these mysterious
^lealings of the Lord, as he esteemed them to be, brought
him to the consideration of writing his own life. He
4 Preface.
submitted his purpose to a number of friends and
brethren, all of whom enoouraged him in his intended
undertaking.
Accordingly, in 1866, he began the writings which
have led to the volume you now hold in your hands.
It was his purpose to complete the work and have it
published during the few years to follow. As he ap-
proached the period of his then present existence, where
his work was to end, he made some investigations as
to the cost of publication. The cost was at this time
so great, and financial depression among his friends
and acquaintances so wide spread, that his limited
means would not justify the publication. He expressed
the desire, however, if not done before, that after his
decease his family should have the work completed
and published, not that he desired especially for his
memory to be perpetuated in the world by books tind
records, but feeling that the struggles he made in youth
to fit himself for the great duties of life might be a
stimulant to others of like surroundings. That his re-
ligious impressions and his actions towards them
might be a guide to some soul when his voice should
be forever silenced. That his ministerial life from
his first impressions to exercise in public to its close
might give some light to others who may ibllow. And
that the fiery trials and deep aflBictions which came
over his soul, staid only by God's curbing hand, might
Preface. 5
ever stand out as a monument of his love and tender
mercy towards those who love and fear him. These
were the hopes that led to the undertaking. That
part of the work written hy father goes to the press in
his own style and language. This will be readily re-
cognized by all W'ho knew him, and comprises about
three-fourths of the work.
We ask that the reader will not censure us for the
chapter on the family history, as the design is to take
this occasion to preserve the substantial facts we have
gathered of the family from which the subject of this
work sprang.
The task of completing this biography has been as-
signed to myself, believing that my intimate acquaint-
ance with his life from the time he ceased to write to
the day of his death gives advantages both necessary
and desirable to the accomplishment of this work. In
undertaking this I desire to state what I know, and
what I believe from the best authority to have been
true. At the time father returned to the ministry I
had reached that age when the parent centers much
interest in the child. Being the oldest then living, the
social relation existing between father and myself was
very intima!e. He talked freely with me upon many
subjects ; much of what I write was drawn from these
interviews. It is hoped that this little volume, though
not sufficient to withstand harsh criticism, may con-
6 Preface.
tribute something to the great cause in which father
spent his life; that it may tend to inspire all who read
it to purer and holier lives and that not one soul who
peruses it may ever be lost. And that it may espe-
cially prove a refreshing shower of grace, through the
Holy Spirit, to the exhortations and warnings he so
faithfully delivered while here in the flesh to all who
heard them, and that the Holy Spirit may ever guide
the heart of the reader as he peruses Hi pages.
H. C. OLIVE.
Apex, N. C, August 1st, 1886.
THE OLIVE FAMILY.
PARENTAL ANCESTORS OF JOHNSON OLIVE.
The limited knowledgeof ancestors, possessed by very
many persons with whom we have met, has led the
writer to treasure up from youth some leading facts
connected with the Olive family in America.
It was not expected that any great advantage would
accrue to any one from this undertaking. Indeed, it
was not pursued as a matter of profit and reward, but
as a subject of information and satisfaction.
When a mere child I often visited the home of my
grandma Olive, and in early life I was deeply im-
pressed with the names of many old fields and sites
where houses had formerly stood, and sometimes small
fields then in cultivation about these old settlements,
all showing that several generations of this family
had lived and died in this locality. Numerous were
the enquiries put to my grandma and my uncle Cal-
vin Olive, about the persons who had formerly lived
at these places. My anxiety thus early awakened
was not abated by time. As I grew older I was anx-
ious to learn more about my family. I sought oc-
casion to enquire of some of the oldest persons living
in the community, and gather up such information
as they possessed. Some of them were able to tell me
8 The Life and Times
the name of the first Olive who came to the United
States, and many other facts of family history inter-
esting to me, most of which had been substantiated
by other witnesses. In substance, they all agree that
there is only one family of Olives in America; that
this family is one of Engiish descent ; that James
Olive was the first of this family to cross the Atlantic
and plant the Olive branch in the United States ; that
he was a bound boy in England, and must have been
born about 1720 or 1725. In early youtli he became
tired of the restraints placed upon him, and hearing
of the new world, the genial clime, and the great lib
erty enjoyed by its citizens, he resolved to come to the
United States. He accordingly made terms with the
captain of a vessel soon to sail for America, and in a
short time he was on board, working his way to his
intended new home.
On reaching the United States he made his way to
what is now Wake County, N. C, landing here about
1740. He took up a portion of land and made a tem-
porary settlement near where the city of Raleigh has
since been located. The records of the county show that
soon after its organization the names of some of his
descendants appear as land owners on the waters of
Crabtree creek. I cannot say, however, that these
lands are part of those formerly owned by James
Olive. His direct location is thought to have included
a part of the present site of the city of Raleigh. After
remaining here for awhile, he moved to the western
part of the county, and made a permanent settlement
near the line dividing Wake and Chatham counties.
OF Rev. Johnson Olive. 9
some two miles west of the present village of New
Hill. Here he married and devoted his time to his
chosen occupation for life, that of farming and stock
raising. He is described as a stout, strong, healthy
man, of good height. Possessed of a strong will, much
industry and thrift, he was soon in possession of a
large body of lands in that section of the county of
Wake. He was no less blessed in his marriage rela-
laiions. Seven sons and one or more daughters were
added to his family. These all grew up to manhood
and womanhood, and lived to a good old age. F,ot
robust'health and physical manhood thisfamily of boys
is seldom surpassed — stout, healthy and active. They
were all possessed of fair mental capacity. Some of
them became distinguished for their intellectual at-
tainments. They only had such education as the
times in which the}^ lived offered to c()Untry boys.
They did not seek fame or distinction, and living at a
time when the printing press was costly, and but lit-
tle in use, no printed record is left of any of them,
yet we are led to conclude from the impress left upon
tl)ose who knew them that they were men whose char-
acters were strongly marked, and that they were
among the foremost men of their day with the early
settlers and planters of their section. These seven
sons were living in the early part of the nineteenth
century. Some persons now living have seen most of
them ; others tell many things about them that have
been handed down to them by their parents. At the
outbreak of the American revolution some of these boys
were of age, and took part with the United States in
10 The Life and Times
her battles for independence. Toward the close of the
eighteenth century James Olive, the father, died at his
family residence, and was buried upon the premises,
where it is thought his grave can now be distin-
guished. His wife survived him many years, and so
distinguished herself by her kindness to all with
whom she met, (and especially the poor, the sick, the
needy and afflicted) that the name of " Granny Olive "
long lived in the hearts of her neighbors. She must
have lived to near a hundred years of age. The
names of the seven sons were William, Abel, Jesse,
James, Anthony, John and Southard. For some
time they all lived in their native county, and the ad-
joining county of Chatham.
After a time Abel and Anthony moved westward,
and from these, with a few other members of the
family who have since gone westward, has the Olive
family spread through Tennessee, Arkansas, Missis-
sippi, Alabama, Texas, and other Western and South
ern States. Abel was a professed minister of the gos-
.pel of much influence and ability. According to a
custom of his day he was on several occasions drawn
into public discussions with other divines upon re-
ligious subjects. In some of these discussions he
greatly distingjuished himself.
The five other sons made permanent settlements in
their adopted sections. They all devoted their time
principally to farming and raising stock, which latter
business was quite profitable in those days, as abund-
ant range could be had. They all attained to a fair
degree of success in their struggles for existence. All
OF Rev. Johnson Olive. 11
were blessed with a large family of children, usually
numbering from six to ten. Indeed, a few statistics
would show that the family has been wonderfully
fruitful since their settlement on this side of the At-
lantic.
With only James Olive to begin with in 1740, at
the close of that, the eighteenth century, when the
family had only been in America sixty years, they
numbered near one hundred souls. Tliey have now
been in the United Slates about one hundred and forty-
five years. They have scattered throughout' many
States of the Union mostly to the South and West.
It is reasonable to estimate that no less than ten
thousand souls have been born on this continent with
the blood of James Olive flowing in their veins. This
seems incredible in so short a time, beginning with
James Olive in 1740, and in 1886 — one hundred and
foriy-six years later — counting ten thousand offsi)ring.
We estimate that no less than one thousand and five
hundred of his posterity are now living in the United
States. So numerous are the different branches of this
family springing from William, Abel, Anthony, James,
Jesse, John and Southard that time and space w.ll not
permit us to pursue them all. We will therefore confioe
ourselves to the dirpct ancestors of the subject of this
work, with such general statements at the close of this
chapter as we may deem apf)ropriate. We have be
fore stated that the name of one of the seven sons of
James Olive, Sr., was John. Soon after the close of
the American revolution, in which he was engaged,
he married a Miss Partridge and settled in Wake
12 The Life and Times
count}^ near tlie old homestead of his father. He was
a farmer by occupation, and twice married. In all he
had twelve children, Burrell and Rachel by his first
wife, and John, Michael, Berry, Green, Gray, Bennett,
Briiikley, Sallie, Frankie and Nancy by his second,
whose maden name was Womble. During, the early
part of the nineteenth century Burrell Olive, the eldest
son of John, married a Miss Polly Johnson, daughter
of John Johnson, who had recently moved from North-
am[)ton county, N. C, and settled in Chatham county,
only a short distance from the settlement of the Olive
family in Wake county.
Burrell Oiive and wife settled U[)on a farm within a
short distance of their parents, in the county of Chat-
ham, about one mile from tfie Wake line. Tiieir
second child was a son to whom the}' gave the name
Johnson, in honor of his mother's maiden name. Bur-
rell Olive was a modest, unassuming man. He acquired
a fair education for one of his day ; s}>ecimens of his
writing now in existence show him to have been a
man of good intellect. He did not aspire to fame, but
became a successful farmer and useful and substantial
citizen. His height was about five feet ten inches,
weight one iiundred and forty-five pounds.
His wife, the mother of Johnson Olive, was a quiet,
self possessed lady, industrious, sprightly and active,
free from craft or cunning, yet moved about much
without being observed. She was of small size, usually
weighing from one hundred and ten to one hundred
and fifteen pounds; possessed of much native intellect.
Johnson Olive inherited much of the characteristics
OF Rev. Johnson Olive. 13
of liis maternal ancestors. His head, his nose, his
cheeks, resembled his paternal anr.estors, and in other
particulars he was like tliem.
The Johnsons were a jovial, active people, full of
life and fun, great talkers, and very much enjoyed a
hearty laugh. Most of them were j)assionately fond
of children, and often kept the child in a strait be-
tween teasing and caressing. They were quick-
tempered, not ill, rather friendly, but violent when
aroused. As a family they were the greatest lovers of
fisli I ever saw. In this particular father was all
Johnson.
We have sometimes attributed the love of the tinny
tribe in this family to the fact that they had emi-
grated from a county bordering Uf)on splendid fisheries,
and that this appetite had become to some extent con-
stitutional.
The Olives have usually been an honest, industrious
people; farming has been their favorite pursuit; very
few of this large family have ever sought worldly
honors. One definiiion of the name is "emblem of
[)eace." They have usually been advocates of peace
and order, and are ever quick to resent oppression and
wrong.
From their firat settlement in this country they have
manifested a great fancy for stock raising. The horse,
cow, sheep and hog have received a good share of atten-
tion from many of them. They seldom fail to store
away a good share of home-made pork.
While they are a modest and unassuming people,
they always inherit a good degree of will power, and
H The Life and Times
when once settled in their opinions, are not easily
moved. Liberty aod freedom are favored terms with
them.
This family has not been without its Absaloms.
The wayward ones, however, have not been inclined
to malicious practices, but rather to mischief and
merriment.
Notwithstanding tiie great number born in this
country, the penalties of the criminal laws have not
been heard against any of them. Very few, only, have at-
tained to great wealth. They have been among the
common, well-to-do citizens of this country. All have
not been professed christians, yet the Church of God
on earth has had many v/arm advocates in this family.
Becoming satisfied years ago that the tradition
handed down by our parents and family acquaintances
as to our family history was correct, we have been lead
recently to make more thorough inquiry into some of
the facts.
Some six years ago we learnerl from a man who
claimed to be a sailor that he had seen the name of
Olive in London, England, whence tradition says we
came. He stated he saw this name upon a signboard
over a store door, in one of tlie streets of London, and
that he had never seen the name elsewhere. This
strengthened the account we already had. Accord-
ingly, in the early part of this year, we addressed a
letter to the editor of the Spectator, London, asking for
the address of any persons in his country by the name
of Olive. lv\ about three weeks his answer returned,
giving the names of Henry Olive, John Bone Olive,
OF Rev. Johnson Olive. 15
and John Joseph Olive, all living in London. This
led to a correspondence between myself and some of
the parties. I here give their reply :
Grafton House,
Grafton Street, Fitzroy Square,
London, England, May, 1886.
Dear Sir :— We received both your Tetters. The first was
directed to my son, who will get what information he can
from persons whom he knows bearing our name. He has
been too busy as yet. Being the only one of my family alive,
I feel tenderly towards my relatives.
The earliest knowledge I have of my family is that my
grandmother, a widow, Rose Olive, came to the village of
Castle Hedingham, Essex, a widow, with two boys. The
eldest, my uncle, John Thomas, six years of age, the other,
my father, Joseph Olive. I think the latter must have been
about eight years old. This occurrence took place about the
date 1800. Both of these boys and their mother are now
dead. My uncle, John Thomas, was band-master of Life
Guards and Seventh Hussars, also Queen's Boys. Afterwards
a publican in Ipswick, Suffolk. He left one son, now seventy-
five, whom I have seen. He knows but little of the family.
He is a retired publican of Peckham Rye, Surry. When a
boy he remembers riding with his father and mine to Waltham
Cross, Essex, where lived one James Olive, a carpenter — I
suppose a relative, but I had never heard of him before. I
think my errandmother's maiden name was Atherton. She
died, eighty-three, in the village where she had long resided.
I could hear nothing beyond that. She went there a widow
and a stranger. She was good looking — fair and tall. When
I was a boy the directory only showed a Joseph Olive, a solic-
itor of Lincoln's Inn, who was my father. Now there are
only about six. As names help, I may tell you that my
cousin, whom I stated was seventy-five years of age, is named
16 The Life and Times
Daniel David Olive. He has a son, Daniel Olive, at 618 Ot-
towa street, Leavenworth, Kansas, United States. He went
over about twenty years ago. He has a family. So you see
some of our immediate family are in the United States. A
brother of Daniel Olive was twenty years in the American
mercantile service, under the name of Morton, His family
are mostly travelers. Another brother of his has been to In-
dia as a soldier, and is now a publican here. Others of this
family — Charles and^ Alice — are now at or near Queensland.
I had one sister, Armelia, and two brothers, James and Wil-
♦liam, all of whom died young. 1 am now sixty-five years of
age, and by trade a wood turner. The house to which you
direct is mine. Being a largo doable house there are two
rooms, one for my own trade, the other a stationery, book
and music sellers, managed by two of my daughters.
My son, John Joseph Olive, has a similar business to the
latter in London, in Kentish Town Road. I have one son and
three daughters; son the eldest thirty-eight years; youngest
daughter thirty. I weigh eleven stone, my son the same.
My youngest daughter is tall^the other two of medium height.
Our family are well built and rather fair... I belong to the
church of England, where myself and family attend every
Sunday. I treat myself to a nonconformist place of worship
about four times a year. All are the same to me if they are
traveling heavenward. It has been a puzzle to us to know
whether it is a lady or gentleman writing to us. My second
daughter's name is Clara Hannah, the same initials as yours,
but reversed in order. She is a certificated head teacher of a
large London board school. With kind regards and well
wishes to yourself and all the Olives who support the name so
honorably, believe me to be yours truly,
John Bone Olive.
My daughter Clara sends you her plioto. with mine, hoping to
have a return of yours and others of the family.
Yours truly, , J. B. Olive.
OF Rev. Johnson Olive. 17
This is the first and only account we know anything
of from the family in England since the days of James
Olive, Sr. We had never heard anything of their cir-
cumstances or numbers. To us it is conclusive that
this family and the American family are one. The
average of human life being put at thirty-three years,
it is about four and a half generations back to the
point of separation. This appears to be the only
family of this name, of which the parties have any ac-
count in England. They are one in that country, and
the present family were there during the eighteenth
century, and we may reasonably say were there at the
time of the departure of James Olive, our great ances-
tor in the United States. The family names kept up
in both countries would be another indication point-
ing to the identity of the two families, James, John,
William, Joseph, Daniel and David have all been
favorite names with the American famJy. Then we
may justly conclude that our family tradition as to its
history, in the main has been true. Where they first
received the name Olive, and under what circumstan-
ces, I have no means of knowing. Let us hope they
received this title during the early political and social
commotions of England by their^ gentle but firm course
and strong advocacy of peace and order. Be this as it
may, let us seek to follow Him who come tobring peace
and good will on earth ; and ever be found among the
wise, the peaceful, the prudent of this earth, and after
death to form one common family in a land where
peace shall ever abide.
H. C. OLIVE.
THE LIFE AND TIMES
OF
Rev. JOHNSON OLIVE.
CHAPTER I. i^
I was born and raised in the county of Chatham,
State of North Carolina. My parents were poor, but
honest and industrious. They had eight children,
four sons and four daughters. I was next to the oldest
child ; my birth took place June the 7th, A. D. 1816.
My father had a small farm on which he labored, to
gain a living for himself and family. I, being the
first son, was taught to assist my father in cultivating
his farm at a very early age, in the best manner that
I was able. 1 had several uncles, brothers to my
parents, who lived near by, and by them I was petted,
and made to believe that I was as smart as any boy of
my age. I would do any thing that was in my power
if they requested it. I always felt pleasant and safe
when in their presence. My attachment towards them
became as strong as life.
"I love them all with a free good will,
And upon my honor I love them still."
20 The Life and Times
At five or six years of age my parents started me to
school. The custom of the neighborhood at that time
was to have a school three months in the fall of each
year, spelling, reading, writing, and the first or
primary principles of arithmetic were the sciences
taught. I soon became attached to the school. I loved
my teacher, and he taught me to endeavor to excel
the other boys of my age. This made me feel a little
vain, but I generall}^ succeeded in standing at the
head of my class. At the age of eight or ten years I
was looked upon by those who knew me best as being
very smart, and exhibiting some signs of more than
ordinary intellect. However this might have been, I
am sure they acted very imprudently in speaking of
it as they did in my presence. It did me no good
then, and I have sometimes felt that it has injured me
since.
When about twelve years of age my health failed,
not by any violent disease, but I lingered into a feeble
and sickly condition ; my energy and courage became
considerably abated. M}^ keen and penetrating eyes,
of which my friends and relatives had so often with
admiration spoken in my hearing, now became dull
and languid. My cheeks were pale and swarthy, and
my voice was no longer cheerful as it had formerly
been. I continued in this debilitated state of health
for several years, never confined, but always delicate
and feeble. I could generally follow the plough and
assist in cultivating the farm, and in the fall season go
to school, but all the time regretting that I could not
feel and appear like other boys who w^ere in the en-
OF Rev. Johnson Olive. 21
joyment of good health. Notwithstanding the feeble
and dormant state of my constitution, there was a vein
of native humor flowing from ray heart, and revealing
itself in my life and conversation sufficient to attract
attention and make my company agreeable to other
boys. It was customary for the boys in the neighbor-
hood where I lived to meet together on the Sabbath
and amuse themselves in playing at ball and base,
and some other games of youthful sport, and after
a while they would spend a portion of that holy day
in hunting game with their dogs; none of us were
allowed to carry a gun. I became very much attached
to this snort and would join them as often as I could ;
being quite small and light, and always fond of climb-
ing trees, I had become quite expert in that business,
so that I was selected by general consent to climb trees
after squirrels whiletlieother boys would stand around
with dogs and sticks to secure the game whenever he
should spring from the tree ; in this way we often suc-
ceeded in taking those nimble animals. I have often
regretted that I and the boys of the neighborhood
were suffered to follow this dangerous sport, and that
on" the Sabbath da3^thus making it sinful as well as
dangerous; but I might remark here, that religion at
that period was at a very low ebb in the section of
country where I was born. There were but few heads
of families who were members of the church, and very
few young persons who made any pretensions to re-
ligion. There was but little open profanity among
the people of that neighborhood, and as a general
thing they were an honest, industrious, and moral com-
22 The Life and Times
munity. The nearest church was some four or five
miles distant ; my parents as well as many others gen-
erally attended preaching once a month, and in justice
to our parents, I might say they did not approve of
the course which their children pursued in the sporls
above named, but being indulgent they did not posi-
tively forbid it. Thus were spent several years of my
youthful life, my health continuing to be feeble, and
my growth scarcely perceptible. My two oldest sisters
were growing up to maturity, and I remaining as feeble
and dwarfish in appearance as ever. My sisters were
anxious to visit and be in company with young peo-
ple, and especially to go to preaching, and they wished
me to go with them. I had no inclination to go with
them to f)reaching, for it did not suit my taste. I would
rather spend the Sabbath with ray companions in the
neighborhood.
When I was about fifteen years of age I was pre-
vailed on by my mother and sisters to go with my
sisters to a camp-meeting, and as some of our relations
were to tent on the camp grt/Und we were to stay sev-
eral days if w^e wished to do so ; and as an inducement
for me to go my mother got me a new suit of clothes,
and my father bought me a new fur hat. Tl:is pleased
me very much, and I remember after having dressed
myself, that I thought all would do very well except
my pale face and swarthy complexion. This I could
not help but thought it spoiled my looks.
I have no distinct recollection that I had ever felt
conviction for sin up to this time. I had consented to
go to the camp meeting to gratify my sisters and pa-
OF Rev. Johnson Olive. 23
reuts, and if Iliad any other motive in view I think it
v^s to see and hear what would be going on. I had
no idea of doing any mischief or of interfering with
the meeting in any wa}^ but if any thought of seek-
ing religion came into my mind I have no recollec-
tion.
We went to the meeting, and on our arriving there,
we heard the noise that is generally heard at such
meetings, especially when the work of the Lord seems
to be prospering. Some were singing, some were
mourning, and others praying. I was anxious to draw
nigh in order that I might see what was going on in
that place which they called the altar. It consisted of
poles fastened to trees in the grove, or on posts set up
for the purpose, the whole forming a square, or an ob-
long square with seats arranged conveniently for the
mourners and the leading and active members of the
church, so that the penitents might receive useful in-
struction on the subject of religion, and singing and
prayer be made to God especially for them. At one
end of the altar was the stand or platform, to be occu-
pied by the preachers. At the close of a sermon an in-
vitation was given 4)r all who desired religion, and
were willing to manifest the same, to come forward
and kneel or take their seats in the altar. On this oc-
casion a goodly number came forward of both sexes.
Some young persons, some middle aged and some old.
I was standing near the altar, I think, with my hand
resting on the railing. An aged man, whom I knew
to be a preacher, came down from the stand into the
altar and commenced giving instruction to the mourri-
24 The Life and Times.
ers. His words were well chosen, bis voice clear, and
his manner indicated great earnestness and desire fo^
the salvation of souls He encouraged the mourners
to persevere, holding up to them the invitations and
promises of the scriptures. After having gone through
this part of his labor, be raised bis bead and looked
out u})on the bystanders and outsiders, and in the
most pathetic and affectionate language I evf^r beard,
lie exhorted them to seek religion. He held up a cru-
cified Redeemer as able and willing to save to the ut-
termost all who would come to God by Him. He
dwelt upon the danger and misery of sin, upon the
advantages and peace of religion. He instanced his
own experience, saying, "religion has been my sup-
port amidst all the storms and tempests of life." He
spoke of having served in the revolution of 1776, and
of the troubles and trials of that age, and of the sup-
port which he bad always found in his ever present
Friend.
While he was thus exhorting the bystanders and
outsiders I thought he fixed his eyes on me, at least
my eyes met his, and such a look I had never seen be-
fore; his eyes spoke to my mind ^v'itb more force than
his words did to my understanding. I felt -that I was
in the presence of a good and pious man of God. In-
deed it appeared to me as if his heart and lips had
been touched with hallowed fire. I felt as I had never
felt before. I believed what the man of God had said.
I felt the need of religion and thought I would have
given any thing that was in my power to have changed
my condition for that of the good old man. I soon
Rev. Johnson Olive. 25
fouiid myself suffasod in tears, and my heart felt as if
it would burst, but I was ashamed to be seen crying
and did not wish that any person should understand
my condition. I wiped my eyes and turned away
from a scene which has never been erased from my
mind. I walked several hundred yards from the camp
ground in serious and solitary meditation. I came to
the conclusion that what I had lelt was not conviction
for sin but only youthful excitement, and my tears
were only childish sympathy, for I was at that time of
the opinion if a person was truly convicted for sin he
would he prostrated and helpless, and as I had not
been deprived of the us.e of my f)hysical powers, there-
fore I was not convicted, and as unreasonable and super-
stitious as this may appear, there are now a great
many people of the same opinion. I would here warn
all young people to guard against that delusion of
Satan and never quench or grieve the Spirit in convic-
tion. If you feel tl)at you are a condemned sinner in
-the sight of God, that religion is necessary in order
that you may be prepared to die and meet your Judge
in [)eace. I would advise you by all means not to delay
your return to God. Wait not another hour for more
conviction, for Jesus stands ready to save you, full of
pity, love and power.
I will now tell you how I acted, and the bitter con-
sequences of the same.
I hearkened to the voice of the tempter, who said,
time enough yet, wait till you are older. I hardened
my heart and braced myself up as well as I could and
started back to the encampment, anxious to see and
2
26 The Life and Times of
hear what was going on there, but having no desire to
become affected myself or to take any interest in the
meeting further than an outside observer. When I
drew near the sacred altar of prayer and praise and
heard distinctly the different voices and sounds that
are usual at such times and places, some mourning,
some rejoicing, some praying, and others singing or
exhorting, it appeared to me that the place was hal-
lowed ground, and that some mysterious power filled
the atmosphere like an enchantment around that hal-
lowed place. I felt the sacred influences so forcibly
upon my mind that my heart became affected so that
I could not refrain from shedding tears, and I con-
cluded that rather than be detected by my fellow be-
ings in this thing, I would remain at a distance from
the altar, though I was anxious to see what was going
on there. So I spent the greater portion of the time
in which I remained on the camp ground in the out-
skirts of t^he encampment, with many thoughts revolv-
ing through my mind. I made several efforts to go
near the altar to see who were there and what was go-
i.ig on, but in every instance as I drew near my heart
would become more affected and I turned back. All
this time my mind was in darkness on all religious
subjects. I thought true conviction consisted in being
prostrated by some irresistible power, so that a person
under true conviction for sin would, at least in the
commencement of his conviction, be stricken down
like Saul of Tarsus, and as I had experienced nothing
of that nature of course I was only under the influ-
ence of some sympathetic feeling or some animal ex-
Rkv. Johnson Olive. 27
citement. I therefore concluded that I would think
as little about the subject as possible till I could leave
the meeting and return home, at which time I prom-
ised myself, or rather my mind promised God, that I
would take into consideration the all-important sub-
ject of religion, and if I should become convinced that
it was the Spirit of God that was o[)eraiing upon my
mind, and thpt. those impressions were of divine
origin, and I away from all outside influences, I would
then seek religion ^nd call upon the Lord with all my
heart. After I had made this vow my feelings became
more calm, but I did not venture to go near the sacred
altar, for fear that my feelings might return as they
had done before.
I will here offer a few reflections by way of advice,
before I tell how I acted in reference to this matter.
On reflection I have long since been convinced that
the Spirit of God came at that lime to convince me uf
sin, of righteousness, and of judgment to come. In
plain terms, I was then convicted, felt that I was a con-
demned sinner, unlit to live or die in peace, believed
it to be my duty to seek God, to accept of the terras of
reconcUiation, to repent of my sins and believe on the
Lord Jesus Christ, but how to do this was a great mys-
tery to me, even tliough I had been willing to humble
myself before God and men. I was filled with a d- -
sire of doing something, but knew no't as yet either the
end or beginning. I have since seen that I was then
not far from the kingdom of God, and there appears
to have been but one step between me and religion,
but the affections of my heart cleaved to the world,
28 The Life and Times of
and procrastination plead for a more Convenient sea-
son. I would recommend all persons, and more espe-
cially the young, to yield to the first impressions of
the Spirit of God on the heart, and never to quench
its sacred influences or grieve it from your breast. If
you do, it may cost you many bitter tears of repent-
ance, many deep regrets and peradventure may land
your soul in hell. •
CHAPTER IL\/
I will now tell you the course I pursued. I returned
home with my vows upon me; they were indelibl}^
impressed on my mind ; I could not blot them out.
I must consider the subject of religion while following
my plow^ or hoe, which was my usual avocation ; the
subject would come up fresh in my mind ; I would
take it up as well as I knew how ; I would consider it
and reconsider it, think of its advantages and disad-
vantages, and somelimes I felt that I would rather be
a christian than any other man. I sometimes became
so raucl) affected, while meditating on the subject, that
I* would suddenly leave my horse and plow at the
end of a row go to the woods and try to pray, though
it generally turned out that I had great difficulty in
finding a suitable place to make the attempt. On
those occasions I was easily frightened or excited, the
breaking of a stick under my feet, or the sudden flight
of a bird, would often frustrate me in my purpose or
Rev. Johnson Olive. 29
design. Sometimes, however, I did fall upon my knees
nnd try to pray, buj; never as I recollect to my own
liking or satisfaction, for indeed I felt myself to be a
poor, ignorant sinner, though it would give me some
momentary relief to think that I was trying to fulfil
my vows. My mind was exercised in this way more
or less for several months, but I used a great deal of
caution about it for fear that I should be detected by
some of my fellow beings. I felt that T must keep this
a profound secret from all persons, and my anxiety on
this subject could not have been greater if I had stolen
some valuable jewel.
At this early age of my life I disapproved of all
outside appearances and more especially in religious
matters. I had known some to set out toseek religion
and become weary and turn back to the world ; others
I had known who had made great pretensions in reli-
gion turn out badly. I thought that if I should fail
in this thing I would rather it should never be known.
But at that time I was unconsciously acting out the
same principle, for I often concealed an aching heart
by a smiling face, and a troubled mind by a cheerful
laugh. But I had my scripture passages for secret
prayer and for alms giving, "when ye pray enter thy
closet," &c., and " let not thy left hand know what
thy right hand doeth." Thus I endeavored to conceal
from man what was going on in my mind, and tried
to justify my course in my own estimation by scrip-
ture testimony, not being very particular in regard to
its true interpretation. I could not have been more
30 The Life and Times of
careful in trying to keep it a profound secret if it had
been some valuable jewel that I had^ stolen.
Here I would recommend all, and especially the
young when under the influences of the Spirit of God,
to act or speak out what the Holy Spirit works or
teaches witliin.-and never to suffer shame or the fear
of man to deter them from so doing. By pursuing
this course you will bafHe many of the temptations of
the enemy and be the better prepared to " work out
your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is
God working in you to will and to do of His own 'good
pleasure."
Those convictions followed me up more or less for
months and years. Sometimes my impressions would
become almost overwhelming, particularly while hear-
ing the word preached, or soon after, when meditating
upon what I had heard. At those times I would seek
an opportunity of going to some secret place to fulfil
my vows.
About this period of my life, being about 17 or 18
years of age, I became acquainted with a number of
young people who were not immediately Connected
with my neighborhood, and in this way I extended
the circle of my acquaintance in different parts of the
surrounding country. The circumstances that seems
to have given rise to this extension of my acquaint-
ance were these : I had two sisters, who were about
grown, and were fond of going to meeting whenever
they could get an opportunity. I, being their oldest
brother, must as a matter of course, go with them to
render them assistance if needful and to take care of
Rev. Johnson Olive. 31
them the best I could. The young people of. different
neighborhoods became acquainted with us and we were
invited to their homes ; we went, and as we were all
fond of young people's company, and to be courteous,
we would invite to our father's house. In this way
visits became reciprocal and common, and intimacies
were engendered and friendships formed.
On reflecting upon this period of my life I remem-
ber many incidents with pleasure and some with pain.
The extension of my acquaintance was calculated to
benefit me in some respects and to injure me in others.
I was thus drawn into new scenes of pleasure or
mirth, and new temptations were crowding upon me.
It was customary and fashionable at this period of my
life for the young people of the different neighbor-
hoods often to meet together at qailtings, parties, wed-
dings or some merry-making assemblage. It was not
long before I engaged in those diversions, and soon
became very fond of them. I never tried to darce,
neither did I have any inclination for that species of
mirth, but for singing plays, and for songs, and plays
of romance generally, I had a particular liking and
generally indulged in them to great excess, so much
so that I soon found myself looked upon by others as
one of the ring-leaders in those diversions.
While these plays and diversions were being acted
or going on in iny presence I seldom thought of the
subject of religion except when I saw some professor
of religion or member of the church engage in them,
and then I thought it was very unbecoming, and con-
cluded that if I were a christian I would not indulge
32 The Life and Times of
ill any of those things. At that time I loved to play,
and felt there were no religious restrictions upon me,
but that T had liberty to indulge and give full scope
to my inclinations in these things, but my mind was
so impressed with the inconsistency of christians go-
ing into these plays that I would never persuade a pro-
fessor of religion to engage in them, if I knew the
person to be a professor. Sinner as I was, I thought
that christians should be a peculiar people and sepa-
rate from the world.
As well as I can recollect, when I was engaged in
those diversions my mind was occupied with little else
than vanity, and I soon found that this was the most
successful way for me to pursue in order to drown or
smother the workings of conviction upon my mind.
Though I felt that it was a great sin to stifle the work
of conviction in the heart, vet to prevent detection I
have rushed headlong into these plays with all the
outward appearance of being as vain and blithesome
as any of the crowd. But when I left the place reflec-
tion gave me more pain than the diversion g^ve me
pleasure. I did souietimes become very miserable in
taking a retrospective view of my past conduct, and
wished that I had never been born, but I must let no
one know this, and thus I kept it concealed in my own
bosom and appeared to have as few serious thoughts
as most persons have at that age.
I will here state a fact which many persons now liv-
ing have heard me relate both in preaching and in
conversation. It is this: from the time when I was
first convicted at the camp-meeting till I professed re-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 33
ligion, which was about five years, I never attended
preaching and paid attention to the sermon without
feeling more or less affected, I became satisfied that
if I gave that attention to preaching which it was my
duty to do-, I should become so agitated in my mind
that concealment would be impossible, and as I must
keep it concealed at all hazards, I would often stay out
of doors during the sermon and thus be better pre-
pared to enjoy myself with young people in the even-
ing. If I went in the house and took my seat, I would
often think, now I will keep my place but I will pay
as little attention to what the preacher may say as
possible or I shall be detected or unfit to spend a pleas-
ant evening. In this way I often found my impres-
sions deepest and more intense when alone because I
would then give in to meditation and reflection.
I made many vows and promises in my mind in re-
gard to the subject of religion but generally violated
them. I would resolve and re resolve, but as often
break them as I made them, and thus I found there
was little confidence to be reposed in a vow or promise
made in my own mind and known only to myself
and God. I do not recollect that I was impressed at
that time with the fact that I was committing
the sin of lying to God, though I was convinced of
this afterwards, and that to my sorrow; for I often
felt if I died without religion and went to hell, the
sin which would torment me most would be grieving
the Spirit, violating vows, and breaking resolutions,
which would constitute the sin of lying to the Holy
Ghost. I sometimes felt that I would rather appear
34 The Life and Times op
before my Judge with all my other sins upon me than
the grievious sin of quenching and grieving the Spirit,
because I felt such awful forebodings on that subject.
As time passed on, and as I was growing up to man-
hood, though under the medium size of young men of
my age, T went to meeting nearly every Sabbath and
would sometimes give a limited attention to the
preaching of the Word, so that my slumbering con-
victions were often revived. About this period of my
life, which was about the date of 1835 or 1836, there
were considerable revivals of religion going on in dif-
ferent churches and among different denominations
of christians, I would go to some of those meetings
to see and hear what was going on. I would sometimes
almost get the consent of my mind to seek religion
publicly by going to the mourner's bench, but some-
thing always intervened to prevent. I would sometimes
see things occur in these meetings of which I disap-
proved, and I would make that a plea; at other times
my heart appeared more hard and callous at the
meeting than at other times when I was at home;
and again I would cleave to my old opinion of being
stricken down, and as such I could only attend those
revival meetings as an observer. It was also about
this period of my life that my mind was drawn out
for the first time upon that mysterious subject in the-
ology, the doctrine of election and reprobation. The
difficulty seemed to be in making the foreknowledge
of God harmonize with man's accountability ; or, ac-
cording to the more enlightened usage of those terms, to
reconcile the sovereignty of God with the moral or
Ukv. Johnson Olive. 35
free agency of man. The nearest church, where I
usually attended preaching once a month, was a Bap-
tist church, and they had for their pastor an aged man,
who, though illiterate, was a very excellent preacher,
noted for his piety and christian deportment. In doc-
trine he was considered high Caivinistic bordering on
Antinomianisra. I reverenced him as a teacher sent
of God. Of course I knew nothing then of christian
love, but I delighted to honor him. He sometimes
went to my father's house, and my parents regarded
him as a teacher sent of God, and taught their children
to do the same. He preached there a number of years,
before the times (.f which I am now speaking. He
gained many friends and followers. He left before
my connection with the church, thcugh I have seen
him frequently since and heard him [)reach a few
times. I have heard recently that he is dead. I liave
no doubt about his religion ; I believe he lived and
died a christian, and should it be my happy lot to get
to Heaven I expect to see that worthy father in Israel
there. As before stated, at this period'of my life tiiose
mysterious doctrines were agitating the n)inds(f chris-
tians and people generally, more or less. Many re-
ceived them, as taught and explained by Caivinistic
divines, while others rejected tliem in part or entire.
I was of the opinion at that time that ministers sent of
God knew all thiiigs pertaining to their office I had
an idea that ordinary ministers called and sent <»f
God were endowed with the same power and functions
(miracles excepted,) possessed by the Apostles of Chiist,
I had no idea that there were any mysteries or difficul-
36 The Life and Times op
ties in the Bible to a minister's naind, but that he un-
derstood the whole better than I did any little school-
book that I had ever used. So when I heard any per-
son say that the preacher taught a doctrine that was
not true, I thought they must be very ignorant them-
selves, or that they had dared to call in question the
veracity of the preacher ; for I believed that the
{)reacher knew what the truth was, whether he taught
it or not. I soon found that ministers were divided
in their sentiments and opinions about this mysterious
subject, and about many other doctrines contained in
the Bible ; and how was I to know who was right and
who was wrong. All professed to be christians; all had
the same Bible. The ministers who differed all pro-
fessed to be called and sent by the same God to dis-
charge the same duty and to fulfil the same design
and purpose of their one great Master. I was there-
fore driven to the necessity of considering this subject
for myself. 1 soon got it tangled up in my mind, and
would have gladly untangled it if I had known how;
but in trying to untangle it I got my mind and some
of the broken threads of my subject tied together, so
that when I would have gladly laid it down I was
unable to do it because it seemed to be tied fast to my
mind. I at length concluded that I would go to meet-
ing and hear with good attention the old preacher's
explanation, and as this was a favorite topic with him
I had no doubt that he would enable me to un-
tangle it, at least so far as to enable me to loose my
mind from it, for it had become very wearisome and
burdensome to me. I went to the meeting, heard the
good old man preach; he said a great many things
Rev. Johnson Olive. 37
about the foreknowledge and purposes of God, and
as usual the doctrine of election was his favorite topic.
I found at the close of the sermon my mind was
more entangled than ever before, but I attributed it to
my weak and imperfect understanding more than to
an}Hhing else. 1 thought I would be glad to talk
with him about the matter, but had neither confidence
or resolution in myself to do so. In treating on this
subject he had said that a man's good works did not
forward him in religion, neither did his bad ones hin-
der him; but all depended upon the superabounding
love of God shown us in Christ before the foundation
of the world, and that none could share this grace but
the elect, or those given to Christ in the covenant of
redemption. In this way he would extol the grace of
God, but leave the subject lame, in my dark and im-
perfect mind, in regard to man's accountability. I
felt and believed that I was accountable to God for
my conduct, and that I should be judged and re-
warded in the last day according to the deeds done in
the body; but if a man's good works did not forward
him, nor his bad ones hinder in religion, of course
there was nothiiigthatlcoulddo to better ray condition,
or to alter my case in any way whatever. I thought
if I could be certain that I understood his meaning
clearly I would settle down in the doctrine of fate,
and enter fully into the sentiment of thousands who
say if I am to be saved I shall be saved, and if I am
to be lost I shall be lost, and attribute the whole con-
cern to the foreknowledge or decree of God. But I
felt conscious that I did not understand him correctly,
38 The Life and Times of
for I remembered that he almost invariably con-
cluded his sermons by exhorting sinners to repentance
and faith. And although this appeared to my mind
as a contradiction of what he had said in his preced-
ing remarks, yet I believed that by the light of re-
ligion he understood it clearly, and as I was in dark-
ness, and had no spiritual discernment, tlierefore I
could not understand it; but this did not remove the
difficulty from my mind, for there were many who
professed to be christians, and whose piety was un-
doubted, that differed as widely with the preacher on
this subject as any of the world, and why was it that
they could not understand it? But at last I came lo
•the conclusion that the preacher understood his own
business best, and that others had not enjoyed the
same light on this subject that he had, and therefore
they did not understand it clearly. I tried again to
lay down the subject as too high for me, but was un-
able to do so from the fact that the threads of the sub-
ject were interwoven and tangled with the threads of
my mind. About this time some of my companions
and former associates made profession of religion. I
knew some of them had been more wild and out-
breaking in their habits than I had been, and why
was it that they could get religion so soon, and ap-
parently £0 easy, and I must grovel on in the dark
without any prospect of obtaining it? I would some-
times think that this was an evidence that the doc-
trine of election and reprobation, as I understood it,
was true*: "For it is not of him that willeth, nor of
him that ranneth, but of God that showeth mercy." I
Rev. Johnson Olive. 39
would think he was one of the elect, therefore he is
brought into the fold ; I am one of the reprobates, as
such I am left out. Then again I would think that
my sins were of a more aggravating nature than theirs ;
they had sinned outwardly, I had sinned inwardly;
their sins were open, mine concealed; but that diffi-
cult and tangled subject seemed to press upon my
mind more or less daily. One day in midsummer,
while I was hoeing corn, this subject came with con-
siderable force to my mind, and I concluded that I
would endeavor to examine it by simplification. I
thus thought of myself, a poor, hard-hearted sinner,
laboring and toiling with a load of guilt upon my
mind, and no way to get it off; my lot appears to be
a hard one, laboring and toiling all my days to sup-
port a life that I cannot enjoy, and after I have
tugged through this life, with all its burdens and
sorrows, lie down and die, and go to hell; but it is
my lot — my destiny — and there is no way to avoid
it. It has all come about in consequence of the fore-
knowledge, decrees and purposes of God ; therefore
this doctrine, as understood by myself, is true, not-
withstanding all my feigned ignorance or efforts to
evade it. There is no chance for me, so will make my-
self contented.
I think about this time I indulged some hard
thoughts about my Creator. I felt that I had had no
^ part in bringing myself into the world, and to be
compelled to live a sinner, die a sinner, and to go to
hell a sinner, it was hard. While meditating on my
awful condition, the impression was made on my
40 The Life and Times of
mind that perhaps I did not understand this subject
yet, and that if I would look at it again I would see
it differently ; so I concluded I would do so, as it could
make my case no worse, if it made it no better.
Now, said I, God does know all things, always has, and
always will. I give into that sentiment heartily.
Well, if He has all knowledge. He knew whether
you would be born or not, and whether you would
live to your present age or not, and knew the death
that you would die, and of course whether you would
be fit to go to heaven or not, and as such whether you
would be saved or lost. Yet the mere fact of His
knowing this does not determine it to be so, for you
would have pursued the same course that you have
pursued, even if it could have been unforeknown.
I give into this also, and said let me work this rule
of simplification a little further. Now, said I, God
knows what I am doing here to-day, and the state of
my mind is plain to Him. He knows whether I will
work till night or stop short — whether I will finish
this now or leave a few hills at the end. I wish I
knew which way God knows it to be, then I would
try to act differently, and see if foreknowledge has
any restraint on my actions or not. I raised my
hoe to cut up a sprig of grass near a stalk of corn,
and the impression came into my mind with re-
doubled force : Now God doth know whether you will
cut up that bunch of grass or let it stand where it is,
and yet you have the physical power to do either, cut
it up or let it stand ; you can do as you will. I paused
and considered, with my hoe suspended in the air for
Rev. Johnson Olive. 41
a few moments, in order to decide which I would do.
I felt satisfied that I had full power and ability to do
either way, and thought I wished I did know which
way God knew I would act, so that I might try my
ability to act differently. My motive for this was not
to frustrate any of the designs or purposes of God in
reference to His foreknowledge, but to try to harmon-
ize the conflicting parts of this mysterious and per-
plexing subject, and to untangle it in my mind, so
that I might lay it down.
While I was thus standing, with my hoe suspended,
to determine which I would do, cut it up or leave it
standing, this thought rushed into my mind: Now,
what is your duty — cut it up or let it stand? The an-
swer was at hand — cut up the grass and let the corn
grow. And as quick as thought another deep impres-
sion vyas made on my mind, which was this : Go on
and do your duty, and leave the rest to God. I im-
mediately felt relief; the subject vanished from my
mind.
I was thus enabled to lay it down, with the satisfac-
tory evidence that the foreknowledge of God, be it
what it i^ight, imposed no restraints upon me so far
as duty was concerned. And I have never felt any
desire to take it up since.
I was thus taught the truth and force of that pas-
sage of Scripture vvhich says: "Secret things belong
to God, but revealed things belong unto us and to our
children forever."
I also found that this simple incident in the history
of my life removed a load from my mind, which all
42 The Life and Times of
the metaphysical reasoning that I Lad ever heard, or
anything else connected with that subject had ever
been able to do. I have since learned that God often
reveals to babes and sucklings what He sees fii to con-
ceal from the wise and prudent, and thus perfects
praise unto Himself.
./
CHAPTER in
Having laid down this subject, with no desire or
intention of taking it up any more, my mind was
exercised about my duty to myself and to God. I felt
that I was a sinner, and without repentance I must
perish in my sins. I had read in the New Testament
that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners,
and that He by the grace of God had tasted death for
every man ; but how to avail myself of the benefits
of the death of Christ I knew not. I would sometimes
thiuk that I was not sufficiently penitent; again I
would think that ray convictions were not of the right
kind, and that I must break off from all my sins, of
whatever nature they might be, whether they con-
sisted in act, thought, or deed ; ^thus I would resolve to
reform my life in all these particulars, thinking per-
haps in this way I might make some preparation
on my part to receive the grace of God. But I soon
found these resolutions miscarried; for they were bro-
ken as often as made. Thus I soon found that I was
under the influence of a carnal mind, which is not
Rev. Johnson Olive. 43
subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be; I
soon found that there was no dependence to be reposed
in any of my resolves. Daring all this time I was
nsing the utmost secrecy in keeping all these- things
to myself, not willing that any human being should
know what was going on in my mind. I would some-
times think if I were away from all my associates and
acquaintances I would be less embarrassed about
keeping it concealed ; for I felt that I needed instruc-
tion, and would have gladly sought it if it had not
been for shame, or for fear that my associates would
find it out, as they were my besetting sins. About this
time I concluded that I would leave the neighborhood,
and go a distance of some twenty miles on the other
side of Cape Fear river, and attend a meeting that was
to be held there. I would thus be away from all those
outside influences which I felt were holding me back,
and preventing me from seeking religion publicly. I
went to the meeting with a determination to become
a mourner. On my arrival there, I found that nearly
all who were at the meeting were strangers to me. I
thought I would have a favorable time. I went into
the house and listened to preaching, with my mind
made up to present myself as a seeker of religion at
the close of the sermon ; but when the sermon closed
my heart was less affected than usual on such occa-
sions. I felt that if I went to the mourner's bench, in
cold blood, and with a hard heart, and could not shed
tears, it would do me more harm than good, and more
than all it would seem like tempting God; so I re-
44 The Life and Times of
mained where I was as an outside observer. Many
thoughts revolved through my mind during the meet,
ing. I saw that my resolutions were falling tiirough.
I could resolve well but performed badly; indeed, I
began to see that the heart was deceitful and despe-
rately wicked, and who can know it? I found as many
difficulties in the way of my seeking religion among
strangers as I had found in the midst of my associates
and acquaintances. I stayed at the meeting two days
and then started home, feeling that I had undertaken
something and was leaving without even attempting
to perform it. I think that these things occurred in
the latter part of the summer of 1837. Soon after this
I started to school, as my father told me that he
wanted me to go about three months more; and I
must learn all I could, as he never expected to send
me to school any more after that. I was not in a very
good state of mind to learn at school ; but did the best
I could under the circumstances. It has often ap-
peared to me when reflecting on this period of my life
that I was under the influence of two conflicting
spirits, one good and the other evil. Sometimes I
would find myself yielding to one and sometimes to
the other — both spirits seemed to be striving for the
mastery. When under the influence of the good Spirit
T could shed tears freely, feel tender, and thought that
I desired to be a christian, above everything else on
earth; and frequently found myself in going to, or
from school, in deep and prayerful meditation about
the subject of religion. While on the other hand I
would find myself under the influence of evil, my
Rev. Johnson Olive. ' 45
mind would be filled with vain and sinful thoughts,
my temper would become irritated, my passions
aroused, and I would often give vent to feelings and
words which I looked upon as being wicked and sin-
ful. I would sometimes think that it was needless for
me to think about reforming my life or of amending
my ways, for I had so often violated my vows, resolu-
tions and promises that the thing appeared impossible.
As it will be necessary for me to have reference to
some dreams or visions in the course of this work, I
will merely state in the outset that I place no great
estimate on dreams in general or particular in the
present age of the world. I am no interpreter of
dreams, never have been, neither do I ever expect to
be, yet I have always been, from the earliest period of
my recollection, a great dreamer. On reflection I think
I have found my dreams, in general, have indicated
the state of my mind, that is, the nature of my dreams
would be good or bad, pleasant or fearful, according to
the exercises or state of my mind in my wakeful
hours. For several, years during this period of my
life I was the subject of some of the most terrific and
awful dreams that I have ever heard related. I shall
not attempt to relate them tiere in full. But believing
in that Scripture passage which says, "Let him that
hath a dream tell a dream," I will say somtthing about
them as such, and' hope that all who may read this
book will remember that they were dreams, and that I
have told them as such.
During my sleeping hours I was very often alarmed
and greatly frightened at what I conceived to be the
46 The Life and Times of
Devil, who was always after me. Repeatedly and at
different tioaes he appeared in all the various shapes
and forms in which he is said to transform himself.
Sometimes he would come in the shape of some hid-
eous beast of prey, sometimes more like a mammoth
dog, but more frequently like a giant of a negro, rag-
ged and filthy, generally with a chain in his hand or
somewhere about him. It mattered not in what form
or shape he came I always knew him and understood
his errand. He was after me, and many a hard race I
have run in my dreams in trying to get away from
him. I would sometimes become so tired and weary
that I would faintly sink to the ground. On one oc-
casion I was thus running with might and main try-
ing to get to my father's house, thinking if I could get
to my parents they would plead, for me and that my
life might be spared a little longer. I succeeded in get-
ting near the house, though the Devil gained on me,
and was near at my heels. I saw my father and mother
come out of the house ; they turned their backs on
me and walked away ver}^ fast, but ray mother turned
her head and looked at me over her shoulder with a
countenance filled with despair. 01 that look ; it is
still fresh in memory.
On another similar occasion I succeeded in getting
my mother to plead for me, but the Devil told her that
it would do no good, but would rather make the worse
for me, even if he should spare my life a little longer,
for that I would grow worse and worse the longer I
lived, and that his title to me was good any way. My
mother shed tears, and said she hated to see me drawn
Rev. Johnson Olive. 47
away from her at that time and hoped that I would do
better. My mother and the Devil agreed to refer the
matter to me; said thac I might have my choice, go or
stay longer, the Devil persisting all the while that it
would only make my case worse if I chose to stay.
But of course I chose to put off the evil day as long
as possible, and as the Devil walked off he exultantly
remarked that it would do no good for me to stay here
any longer, but it made no difterence with him, as he
was good for me any how.
At another time I dreamed that he came in the
sha[)e of some hideous beast, took me Upon his back
and. trotted off with me towards his horrible den,
which I found to be an awful chasm in the side of a
mountain or very steep hill. He carried me to the
entrance of his den. When he ope.ied the door I saw
the thick clouds of smoke issuing from the den through
the door and ascending upwards. I heard the heart
rending shrieks of the damned, and as he went in,
leaving me at the door, I thought he had gone down
to fix my place. I awoke and behold it was a dream.
On th^s occasion, as well as in almost every other
dream, when things were rapidly hastening to a crisis,
I awoke and was pleased to find that it was not a real-
ity, though the sufferings of my mind were great whiiC
it was going on. I do not recollect that I had many
pleasant dreams'during the period of five years, which
includes that time of my life which I spent while
under conv'iction for sin. I was frequently attacked
by dogs, which bit and mangled me, or by snakes and
serpents of enormous size. I seemed to have no power
48 The Life and Times of
over the Devil or any other enemy, but I was weak
and easily overpowered by everything.
A few times I dreamed of the judgtnent day, always
unprepared, and on one occasion the books were opened
and the Book of Life was searched and my name w^s
not there. I stood with awful feelings, expecting soon
to hear my doom, " Depart ye cursed into everlasting
fire prepared for the Devil and his angels." How glad
1 was when I awoke and found it was a dream.
Perhaps some who may read this book may w^onder
why I have neverspoken more freely about my dreams.
I will here give some of my reasons : At the period of
my life when these dreams were passing through my
mind I frequently heard people, both young and old,
telling their dreams, but my dreams were so different
from theirs, and such bad ones, too, that I was unwill-
ing to tell them. Another reason why I kept them to
myself was because I heard some old people say that
the more a person told his dreams the more he would
have them, and I desired no more of the sort that I
had. Thus I kept them to myself while they were
passing. I have sinte refrained from speaking much
about them, for the reason that I did not repose much
confidence in dreams, and for the furtiier reason that
I was unable to interpret them myself and never found
any person that could.
In making tiie foregoing statement about dreams in
general, and some of mine in particular, I have tried
to state facts as they occurred to my mind. Those
dreams passed through my mind some thirty years
ago. They are still fresh in memory. I send them
OF Rev. Johnson Olive. 49
forth as dreams, hope you will receive them as such,
and make the best of them you can. If there be any
good connected with them I owe it to God ; if there be
anything bad I must take it to myself, and as such I
drop the subject for the present.
CHAPTER IV.
As before remarked, I was at this period of my life
going to school five days in the week, and as I thought
it would be the last term in which I should ever goto
school, I endeavored to learn all I could in such studies
as would be most useful to me as a farmer's boy. I
did, sometimes however, become so much concerned
about my spiritual condition that my mind became
incapacitated for my school studies. I recollect, on
one occasion, I went in my wanderings to a grave-
yard near by the school-house, in which lay several
persons with whom I had once been acquainted ; es-
pecially the remains of one aged man had recently
been deposited there as his resting place. I had been
intimately acquainted with that old man from my
first recollection. He always seemed to have some-
thing like filial affection for me, and had always ap-
peared glad to see me. He was a very pious man,
and I have no doubt a true christian. I went to his
grave, looked on the mound of earth that covered his
mortal remains, while many thoughts revolved through
50 The Life and Times of
my troubled breast. I thought if I were a christian I
would gladly go to my grave to be relieved of my
trouble; but my case was this: unfit to die, and un-
prepared to enjoy life. While musing around this
silent and solemn place, this thought came into my
mind, I wonder if the spirit of this good old man sees
me or knows what I am doing, if so he must know
something of the state of my mind, and it seemed if
tiiat were a fact he must sympathize with me. I had
not yet learned that sorrow could not enter Heaven.
I soon found my eyes suffused in teajs and walked
away with a sorrowful heart. About this time of my
life, I would go to preaching somewhere nearly every
Sabbath, but did not always give attention to the ser-
mon, for fear that I would become so much affected,
that I should be unprepared to spend a pleasant even-
ing with my associates. Revivals of religion were
still going on, and many of the young people of the
neighborhood were giving into these things. Among
others were my two oldest sisters. They had now be-
come public mourners. I would sometimes think that
they had been over-persuaded, and I seemed to fear
that they were not under conviction, as they had not
been stricken down lielpless; for I was still under that
delusion.
About' this time of my life I was under great
temptations to end my earthly existence, from the fact
that I saw no prospect of my ever getting any better,
and feeling that I was constantly growing worse. My
sins rose up before me like mountains; my broken
* Rev. Johnson Olive. 5i
vows and promises seemed to stare me in the face ;
memory recalled the many instances in which I had
endeavored to quench, grieve, and stifle the workings
of the Spirit of God upon my heart; concience, also,
drew up the bill of indictment and I found myself a
guilty and condemned sinner at the tribunal of God,
and felt that I was justly exposed to his wrath. I felt
a desire to escape, but knew not how, for I had not as
yet opened the state of my mind to any human being,
and the weight of my load of sin and guilt became
so heavy that I felt my burden was more than I could
bear. I would sometimes think, if I would let it be
known to some christian people, and tell them the
state of my mind, I would find some relief; and I have
since become satisfied that if I had pursued that course
it would have been better for me.
On one occasion, I resolved to try the experiment;
I had an uncle and aunt living near by the place
where I was going to school. They were both pious,
and as I believed warm-hearted christians. I there-
fore concluded to go and spend a night with them,
and as they were full of religion, they would be apt to
say something to me upon that subject, which would
give me a favorable opportunity to tell them the state
of my mind. I went and spent a night with them,
and we talked about a great many things ; and among
other things, my Uncle spoke of the happy meetings
which had been and were still going on in almost
every part of our country. He spoke of having been
present at some of those meetings, and the happy
52 The Life and Times of
seasons of refreshing grace showered down upon chris-
tians, and of the power of God which was displayed in
the conviction and conversion of siiwiers, the many
converts, &c. I would think, now is my time to open
the state of my mind and tell my feelings, but it would
seem if I made the attempt I should be choked, so I
kept the subject and the burden wrapped up and con-
cealed in my own breast. My uncle said to me " there
will be a camp meeting at Buckhorn in the course of
a week or two and I intend going for I believe we
shall have a good meeting," and asked me if I was not
going. I told him that I thought I would. " Yes, said
he, I want your two sisters to go, and you must go
with them, for I think we shall have a glorious meet-
ing." My heart seemed to flutter within my breast; I
desired to speak and tell my feelings but did not, only
consenting to go to th:e meeting. I left my uncle's
house next morning and returned to school with an
accusing conscience for having violated and broken
another promise.
Time rolled on, days and nights passed away in
rapid succession, and I with a heavy load of guilt upon
m}'' heart, my mind filled with the recollection of
broken vows and promises, would try to pursue my
studies at school, and often think of the camp meeting,
which was soon to come on. I would sometimes think
of making another vow to seek religion at that meet-
ing; but I had violated so many solemn promises,
made in my own mind, and known only to God and
myself, that I was fearful to make another promise,
for fear that I would break that also. Indeed the bur-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 53
den of broken vows had become so heavy that I did
not feel that I could bear up under the weight of many
more. I would sometimes think that I would go to
the meeting without any previous thought or arrange-
ment of mind, in regard to the course which I would
pursue when I got there; but that did not suit me,
and I would think of the meeting, and of my going to
it, and the course which I would pursue, when I should
get there, in spite of all that I could do to avoid it.
At length I made up my mind in regard to the
course which I would pursue at the camp-meeting. I
Jaad a cousin who lived near the camp-ground, and
who was about my age. He was a member of the
Methodist Society, and appeared very pious. So I
concluded, when I should arrive there, I would make
myself known to him, and associate with him during
my stay at the meeting, believing that he would be
ready and willing at all times to render me any as-
sistance which I might need, and he able to give, for
I never doubted that he would do me all the good he
could, and as little harm as possible. I also thought
I would feel less embarrassed to open my mind to him
than to almost any other person ; and as I had deter-
mined to go there to seek religion, I desired to associ-
ate with one in whom I could at all times confide.
The morning arrived when my two sisters and my-
self were to start to the meeting. New difficulties
seemed to crowd upon me. I had some trouble in
finding our horses, as they had left the pasture. I
thought that was an unfavorable omen, as it indicated
to my mind that Providence was against me, other-
54 The Life and Times of
wise the horses would have been in their proper place.
But as I was not long in finding them, we made haste
and started in due time, but after traveling something
over half the distance to the meeting I heard sad
news. We met up with some person who told us that
my cousin, with whom I was going to associate at the
meeting, was dead, and I think he was to be buried
that day. My feelings on hearing this news were in-
describable. It seemed that all my plans were falling
through. All my prospects for the better seemed to
be blasted, and my poor heart seemed to sink within
me. The thought soon came to my mind that he was
prepared to go ; but suppose it had been me instead
of him, how dreadful would have been my condition !
I felt that he had gone to rest, to live with God in
glory, but if it had been me I should have gone to
hell, and been venting my fruitless cries where no
mercy could ever come. I also began to think that
time was getting short with me, and that my case was
rapidly hastening to a crisis. I felt that I desired re-
ligion above everything else, and was willing to re-
ceive it on any terms that God would be pleased to
grant it; but how to obtain it I knew not. Indeed, it
seemed to me that Providence was frowning upon me,
for all my plans were failing before the time arrived
for me to put them into execution. Something, how-
ever, must be done, and done soon, or I should be un-
able to survive. I was conscious of the fact that there
were others who would be at the meeting, and who
could and would be able and willing to do as much
for me as my dear cousin could have done if be had
Rev. Johnson Olive. 55
not died. But I could not feel so free and open with
them as I could have done with him. But the crisis
was approaching, and I must take things as I found
them. Delay would no longer do. I therefore could
not do any better than to resolve again, though I
feared it would be broken, like all my previous'resolu-
tions on the subject of religion; but. as life or death
seemed to be involved in my de<3ision, I therefore de-
termined in my own mind to present myself at the
mourners' bench at the first opportunity.
We arrived at the camp-ground just in time to hear
the 11 o'clock or noon sermon. There was a large
concourse of people present, and as usual, there were
a great many wagons and vehicles standing in the
outskirts of the encampment, and numerous tents,
both of wood and cloth, arranged in regular style. I
took a seat in the midst of the congregation, some dis-
tance from the preacher's stand, though near enough
to hear. My feelings, during the sermon, were vari-
ous and changeable. Sometimes I would feel tender,
at other times my heart seemed hard and cold. There
were" some moments during the sermon when I felt if
the invitation could be given then for anxious souls
to come forward, I would be among them. I finally
concluded, when the invitation should be given at the
close of the sermon, I would go anyhow. I was not
aware at that time of the desperate struggle I was
then about to have with the powers of darkness. The
battle was fierce, but not of long duration. The sar-
mon closed, the invitation was given, but I did not
go. My heart just at that moment felt so hard, and
56 The Life and Times op
my eyes so dry, that I felt if I went in such a (rame
as was then upon me I should sin presumptuously.
Many, however, did go from all parts of the congre-
gation. I looked on and listened to their mournings,
lamentations and prayers till I wished myself among
them ; but I was not there. I soon became so wretched
and miserable that I left the crowd, and went some
three-quarters of a mile to look after our horses. As
I left the camp-ground I could hear the different
sounds which were usual on such occasions. Some
w^ere shouting, while prayer and praise were being
constantly offered up to God. It seemed there was a
suitable place for everybody but me; for even the
hardhearted and careless seemed delighted. But I
suppose they cared for none of those things.
■> I found our horses doing well. They seemed so well
satisfied that I w^ould have willingly changed condi-
tions with J,hem. I started back to the encampment,
for I knew not what to do. I left the road and went
through an old field overgrown with thick pine. I
thought I w^ould be glad to see a ghost — or even the
devil himself, if it would be the means of altering my
wretched feelings, and of helping me to seek religion ;
but I saw nothing but the waving boughs of the young
pines, which seemed to bespeak the praise of God. I
returned to the road, and was soon nearing the
encampment. I had a long hill to ascend, at the top
of which was the camp ground. My burden was so
heavy that I became weary, and felt as if I could
hardly go.
As I drew near the encampment, at the top of the
Rev. Johnson Olive. 57
bill, I saw two men, with whom I was acquainted, in
close conversation. They seemed wonderfully pleased
at something, though I knew not what; and as neither
of them was a professor of religion, 1 murmured in
my own mind, because I was not permitted to feel and
appear as they did. I felt the temptation, so strong in
my mind, that I resolved to throw away my strange
and delusive feelings, and go up and join them in their
conversation. I started to them but only advanced a
few steps, before the impression cam^ into my mind
that they would consider me as an intruder, and that
I should be forcing myself where I was not wanted.
This impression was so strong in my mind that I
halted, and stood stock still, till one of them, who, by
the way, was my own dear cousin, took notice of my
singular conduct, and spoke to me in a friendly way,
inviting me to come up and join them in their con-
versation, reminding me that they were not on secrets.
I now thought I can go without any difficulty; I
started, but only got about half way to them, when
the impression came into my mind, with redoubled
force, that he had only invited me, through courtesy,
to join them in their conversation, but in reality
neither of them wanted my presence. I halted again,
under the weight of this last impression, and just at
that moment the horn sounded for evening services.
A man, with whom I was acquainted, and who was
also an efficient member of the church, was hastening
to the stand ; he passed just between me and my two
friends in conversation; and by some means, I know
not what, I found myself following close at his heels.
58 The Life and Times of
When we arrived at the altar, he went in, aod I took a
seat as near as I could get to the^altar. I now deter-
mined to give good attention to the sernaon, and at the
close I would be anaong the first to go to the altar as a
seeker of religion. The man who preached that night
appeared quite young though full of zeal ; his text was,
"This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta-
tion ; that Christ Jesus came into the world to save
sinners." The preacher spoke of the great salvation,
wrought out by Christ, of the faithfulness of that say-
ing, and proved it by many witnesses, some who had
sealed their testimony with their blood, and others
who were then living witnesses, and they all united
in saying it is worthy of all acceptation. Upon the
whole I thought he handled his subject well and
preached a great sermon. In his closing remarks, he
spoke of the gre^t sin and danger of neglecting this
great salvation, and in illustrating this truth he had
reference to some cases in scripture, and to other inci-
dents in human life. The sermon was heart-searching
and soul-siirring to me. I felt that I was a great,
very great sinner, and but for Paul's closing remark
to the text, " Of whom I am chief," I should have
despaired. This seemed to be my only plea, Jesus is
able to save even tie chief of sinners. I now thought
I would rush into tlie altar at the first invitation and
ask every body to pray for me; but to my surprise
when the invitation was given I did not go. Some
strange and unaccountable feeling passed over me and
through me; I have since thought it must have been
the devil's death struggle to keep me back from Christ!
Rev. Johnson Olive. 59
I felt so bad that I sat with my head hung down
like a bullrush, and could not so much as raise my
e3''es towards Heaven but only smite upon my breast
and say God be merciful to me a sinner. I now thought
of the deceitfulness of the heart, and the exceeding
sinfulness of sin, and wished myself at the altar, but
was not there. While I was thus meditating on my
ruined condition, some kind friend came to me and
said: " My friend, don't you want religion?" I made no
reply, my heart was too heavy, but I rose up when he
said to me : " Come, go with us, we will endeavor to do
thee good, for the Lord hath spoken well concerning
this way." I could not contain my feelings any longer.
I burst out into a loud cry, and was willing to go any-
where upon God's earth if it would be a means of bet-
tering my lost condition. This friend led me into
the altar, and I am sure he could not be more willing
to do so than I was to go. He prepared a place for
me to kneel by a seat and gave me some good advice
by way of encouragement. Telling me to confess my
sins to God and pray for his pardoning grace; to seek
him with all my heart, for in the very day and hour
I should do that He would be fond of me, &c. My
good friend then left me for a short time, as I suppose
to meditate on what he had said to me. My feelings
soon became more calm, and I wi41 here give as near
as I can the exercises of my mind, at this important
period of my life. The first thought, as well as I
recollect, that came to my mind, was this: what have
you come here for? My answer was to seek the salva-
tion of my soul, and I would be glad to know what
60 The Life and Times of
the Lord would have me to do. The next question was,
are you willing to give up all for religion ; the world
with its pleasures and allurements, and all your sins,
and vain amusements ; in short, are you willing to
deny yourself, take up your cross and follow Christ
wherever He may call you to go for religion. I paused
in my mind, before giving an answer, for fear that my
poor, treacherous heart might deceive me as it had so
often done before, when I thought of this passage of
Scripture : " What shall it profit a man if he gain the
whole world and lose his own soul ; or what shall a
man give in exchange for his soul." I then felt that
by the help of the Lord I could do it. Then I saw in
imagination my associates and companions in sin
standing near by me, and I thought they looked as if
they were concerned about me and Vv^islied to get me
away from the place which I then occupied. The
question was now proposed to my mind, can you for-
sake these for religion? I answered yes, if they will
not go with me to Heaven, I am determined not to go
witii them to hell. They vanished from my mind in
an instant, and I saw them no more on that occasion.
Then my mind seemed to take a more extensive view
of the world than it had ever done before, indeed I
have often said it was lil^e the fool's eyes, wandering
to the ends of the earth. The last question was now
proposed, which was this, are you willing to give up
the world with all of its glory, its pomp, its pleasures,
its wealth, its honors, and be a meek and humble fol-
lower of Christ for religion ? I replied, yes, I am willing
to be anything, to do anything, to suffer anything for
Rev. Johnson Olive. 61
the sake of religion. Only save my soul and I will
submit to anything. And just here, as unexpected to
me as anything could be, I lost my burden — my bur-
den of guilt and sin, which 1 had carried for five long
years, I mean from the time I was first struck under
conviction. I was still kneeling at my seat where my
good friend had left me. I did not believe it was re-
ligion but thought it was a token for good ; it rolled
off so easy, I knew not how, it seemed as if a gentle
breeze of air had blown through my breast, and with
a gentle hand had brushed my load of sin away.
Now, I had been at the mourners' bench but a very
short time — not as long, I suppose, as it has taken me
to write the account of it — and as I had always con-
sidered the travail of a soul from nature to grace to
commence with the public or outward sign, my travail
had been too short to obtain religion ; and more than
that, I had not seen heaven or hell, and I had heard
some say that they had seen both places, and I, of
course, expected to see my Saviour, and hear Him say,
arise, go in peace ; thy sins, which are many, are all
forgiven thee. But as none of these things had taken
place with me, I could only consider what had taken
place with me as only a token for good, only to inspire
hope in me to persevere. I knew also that I was at a
Methodist camp-meeting, and I feared they would dis-
cover some change in the exercise of my mind, from
the fact that I could not pray, God be merciful to me,
a sinner; Lord save a soul condemned to die, as I
had done; for the weight of guilt and sin w^as gone.
And when I would try to pray I would find myself
62 The Life and Times of
laughing. So as I was fearful they would pronounce
me a convert before I was satisfied with myself, I
crawled under the bench w^here I had been kneeling,
in order that they might not notice me so closely.
But I did not remain there long, for my uncle, to whom
I had gone on a former occasion to disclose the state
of my mind, but failed to-do it, was there, and had
just learned that I was in the altar of prayer. He
sought diligently for me, till he found me under the
bench. He took great pains in getting me from un-
der the bench, placed my head in his lap, and began
to rejoice over me, that I h'ad come to the conclusion
to seek religion ; gave much good advice, and told me
to pray to God for renewing grace. After talking to
me for a few moments, by way of encouragement I
suppose, he discovered that I was not praying as he
thought a true penitent should pray. My good friend,
or some other good brother, said to my uncle : " Do
you know that young man?" My uncle replied:
"Yes; he is a nephew of mine." "Well," said my
friend, " let him be whom he may, he has got religion."
I wished he had kept that word back, for I was not
satisfied, because I had not seen visions or heard
sounds or voices from heaven.
My uncle then began to notice me very closely, to
see what was the nature of my prayer, and soon began
to interrogate me on the subject of religion. He said :
" You have got religion now, haven't you ?" I made
no reply. He asked me again, and I replied that I
was not satisfied. He then asked me my reason for
not being satisfied, when I replied by saying it was
Rev. Johnson Olive. 63
too soon. He told me that God's works were not like
man's works; that God only had to speak the word
and the work was done ; that God could convert a
soul in an hour or a minute — whenever the heart was
prepared, as in a month or year.
Just at this instant my aunt, the wife of my uncle,
came to me shouting and praising God for what He
had done for her soul, and for what He was now doing
for the souls of her people. I rose up and commenced
shouting and praising God aloud ; and the next thing
I remember I was going over the altar, embracing in
my arms christians and ministers, in token of my love
to God and love to them. I thus went on shouting
and praising God, till I was exhausted. I never saw
before such beautiful faces. It appeared to me that
everybody was happy — even the trees in the grove
seemed to speak the glory of God, and the leaves in
the trees seemed to speak His praise. I felt that I was
heaven-born and heaven-bound. I could not be-
lieve that I ever should grieve, or that I ever should
suffer again.
But how changeable are our feelings, and how little
did I then know of the temptations and trials of the
christian ; for early next morning, as the sun was just
rising, I walked out of the tent where I had been
sleeping, and looking over the grove and seeing several
persons whom I had seen over night, none of these
things, thought I, look so beautiful as they did last
night, neither do I feel that ecstacy and thrill of joy
which I imagined I felt then. I began to doubt and
fear that I had missed the substance and caught the
64 The Life and Times of
shadow, and therefore was deceived. I was deter-
mined not to rest there; if I was deceived I desired
to know it, and know it soon, in order that I might
set about seeking religion again.
I left the encampment, went some distance in the
woods, and made my way to a large white oak tree.
When I arrived there, I fell on my knees and com-
menced trying to pray to God to show me what I was.
and where I stood, and if deceived, to undeceive me;
but I had spoken only a few words, when it seemed
that the Holy Ghost came down ia love, and testified
to my mind that I was a child of God. I then thought
I would never doubt again.
I returned to the camp-ground feeling so light that
it seemed I only softly touched the ground.
During that day I succeeded in getting the consent
of several of my acquaintances to go into the altar
and seek religion. I felt very certain if I could get
them to go there they would be converted, and that
soon. I found, however, it was not so easy to get them
out christians as it was to get them in sinners, for
some of them continued mourners for 3'ears.
I had one sister who professed religion at the same
meeting.
We stayed at the meeting three or four days, and
then left for home. Our parents had heard of the
conversion of my sister and myself, and I doubt not
they felt glad, but neither of them were professors, as
I know of.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 65
CHAPTER V^
In a few days after I got home, I fell into doubting
castle, and many a hard struggle I had with the
tempter before I found relief. My doubts and fears
were so great that I was bordering on despair. I
would repair to the woods and other secret places to
make known my request 'to God, but it seemed to me
that the heavens were sealed against me, and that
God's ears were deaf to my prayers, as it was more than
a week before I found relief. My mother became
somewhat alarmed at my situation, and feared that
my uneasiness of mind would result in something
serious. She sought an opportunity to talk with me
on the subject. She said that all christians had
doubts. "Yes," said I, "but not such as mine, for I
am deceived, and I want to seek religion again." She
replied that she had heard many persons relate their
experiences, and that they had all been troubled with
doubts and fears, and therefore she hoped I would not
go crazy on the subject of religion. I knew she felt
deeply concerned about me, but I felt no relief in
mind from anything she had said to me. The time
rolled on, when brother Dowd was to preach at Holly
Springs. I determined to go, and see if I could not
find some relief there. I attended meeting Saturday
and Sunday without any material change in my feel-
ings.
As I was going home on Sunday evening, riding
alone, my mind in prayerful meditation, I decided
66 • The Life and Times of
the question. I believed that I had been deluded. I
had made a great profession, but had deceived myself
and all who saw and heard me. I resolved to return
to the meeting at Holly Springs next day, and pre-
sent myself at the mourners' bench, and seek religion
in good earnest. My mind was somewhat relieved at
this decision, for I now had a plain course to pursue,
and I had strong hopes that I WQuld yet obtain re-
ligion during this time of refreshing from the pres-
ence of the Lord.
When I arrived at home my mother, as usual, wanted
to know how I was getting on, and whether I had be-
come satisfied or not. I told her that I wanted to go
back to the meeting next day, and also what I in-
tended to do. She did not object, but I thought she did
not heartily approve of my course. My father said he
wanted me to stay at home on Monday, as lie had
some particular work for me to do that day, and said
I might go on Tuesday and stay longer if the meet-
ing continued. Of course I consented, but had much
rather gone on Monday.
Tuesday morning I started to meeting, fixed in my
determination to go to the mourners' bench that day.
I continued in this notion till I arrived within a short
distance of the meeting-house. Here I overtook some
of my former associates, and learned of them that on
the day before there was a great outpouring of the
Spirit of the Lord, and several had professed religion,
and among others, some of my former associates. On
hearing this news, my feelings changed in an instant.
My heart was overflowing with joy, I could scarcely
Rev. Johnson Olive. . 67 '
refrain from shouting aloud. I had no doubts about
my religion now. And as to my going to the mourn-
ers' bench, there was- no use, for I had nothing on my
own account to mourn for. I then concluded that I
would go in the house, and seat myself as conveniently
as I could and pay good attention to preaching.
Brother Dowd preached one of the most heart-search-
ing and soul-stirring sermons that I ever heard. I
had made up my mind never to shout again if I could
help it. I thought if I should ever be compelled to
shout by an irresistible power, I would then know
that I had religion, and never doubt again. Before
the sermon was ended there was a great excitement in
the house. Sinners were crying out, mourners pray-
ing aloud, and many christians were rejoicing. My
own heart w^as filled with joy inexpressible and full of
glory. I wanted to shout, glory to God for dying love
and redeeming grace. I felt that I ought to shout,
but I had vowed never to shout again if I could avoid
it. So I was occupied in striving to curb down and
suppress my feelings ; during this struggle I felt that
I was raised some eighteen inches above my seat, and
was floating in the air like a feather. I shook and
trembled like a leaf. -This state of feeling lasted only
a few .minutes, and after it passed off I settled down
on my seat, and the state of my mind became awful.
I felt hard-hearted, cold and indifferent. It seemed to
me that I had done wrong. I had quenched the Spirit;
it had taken its flight, I feared never to return to me
again. The devil whispered and said that I had com-
68 The Life and Times of
mitted the unpardonable sin, and I feared that it was
even so. I repented of my conduct in striving against
the Spirit.
I made another. vow, and that was if the good
Spirit should ever return to me again, I would act out
v/hatever the Spirit might work within. From that
time till I joined the church my feelings were fluctu-
ating. I was often in an ecstacy of joy, shouting and
praising God ; and at other times greatly depressed in
spirit, and filled with doubts and fears. As I was thus
trying to live a christian life by frames and feelings,
I had but a limited idea of living by faith. In ref-
erence to this period of my life, I have often said, I
was always either doubting or shouting.
In the latter part of this year 1837, in connection with
many others, I united with the church at Shady Grove,
Wake county, N. C. Two of my sisters joined at the
same time, and we were all baptized by brother P. W.
Dowd.
After being thus reunited with the church by ex-
perience and baptism, I felt myself under the most
solemn obligation, both to my God and to my breth-
ren, for my religious deportment. I soon resolved, in
my own mind, the course which I would pursue. I
felt that it was my duty, as a servant of God and a
member of His household, to labor in His vineyard
according to my ability. I was conscious that the
Lord never called any into His vineyard to idle or
loiter, but that it was the duty of all to labor in that
part of the vineyard where Providence assigned them.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 69
and that every one should use his talents or abilities
in that sphere in which he would be likely to accom-
plish most good.
I had no idea of trying to preach the Gospel at that
time, but felt it to be my duty, and the duty of every
member of the church, to do all we could for the glory
of God and the good of souls. I made up my mind
that I would be strict in my attendance upon the pub-
lic ordinances of religion, and ever be ready to assist
in the support of the pastor, and in defraying the ex-
penses of the church, according to my ability.
The year 1838 found me a member of the church.
P. W. Dowd was our beloved pastor. I lived with my
father this year, and labored on the farm. I was al-
ways glad when the time come to go to the church
meeting. I was pleased to meet my brethren at the
place appointed for the worship of God, especially my
dear pastor and my younger brethren, who came into
the church at the time I did. Thus I was glad when it
was said unto me, " Let us go up to the house of the
Lord, and let us exalt His name together."
It was during this year I began to have some idea
of living by faith. My feelings were not so fluctuating
as they had been. Religion seemed to become more firm
and fixed in my mind, and consisted more in a liv-
ing and abiding principle in the soul than in frames
and feelings.
It was during this year that brother Jesse Howell,
Jr., commenced exercising in public by way of preach-
ing. He was a member of the same church with my-
self, and a zealous, warm-hearted christian. He held
70 The Life and Times of
a great many meetings in private houses in the neigh-
borhood, and great good seemed to result from the
same. I often went to his meetings, and was much
revived in my own mind, though I did not take part
in any of the public exercises, except singing, as yet.
A.S I had a strong voice, and would sing w^th anima-
tion — or for some other reason — brother Howell was
of opinion that I had a gift for public prayer. There
were other older brethren of the same opinion. They
began to speak to me on the subject. I was very diffi-
dent and timid, and thought it a little strange that
they should single me out from the rest of my young
brethren and urge me to take up the cross.
At that time I did not think that it was any more
my duty to pray in public than it was the duty of
other young brethren. I was firm in my belief, that
it was the duty of all to do something; and that every
one should engage in that part of the work for which
he was best qualified. But, as this subject was often
brought to bear on my mind with some weight, I
thought if I had the ability I would willingly bear
the cross. But why should I commence public prayer
so soon, when there were many who had grown old in
the church, and who had never been heard to pray in
public; I did not feel that I had any special gift or
calling, but only the general call to labor in the vine-
yard. I finally concluded that it was the duty of
every male member of the church to exercise the gift
of prayer in public, if he had the ability to do so, with-
out injuring the cause of Christ. I was not disposed
to push myself forward in this 'duty, but felt a willing-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 71
ness to make a trial whenever a favorable opportunity
presented itself, and I should be called on to do so.
About this time I attended one of brother Howell's
meetings. It seemed to me that he had some idea of
what had been going on in my mind, for he took me
aside privately, before he commenced the exercises of
the evening, and told me that I must help him, and
as an inducement for me to make the attempt, he said:
"After I get through with my discourse I will call on
you to pray, and if you should fail for want of matter
and form, I will take up the prayer and go through
with it." With diffidence I consented to make my first
effort. At the proper time I was called on to pray. I
commenced ; soon became excited in my feelings; my
zeal outrun my judgment; many in the congregation
seemed to be shocked ; some shouted aloud and others
cried. I succeeded in winding up my prayer with a
shout.
We had quite an interesting meeting that night.
I felt relieved from the fact that I had endeavored to
discharge a duty which I believed to be of general ob-
ligation. But afterwards on reflection, I was not so
well satisfied about the course which I had pursued.
I had now opend a gap in my history which I feared
I would not be able to keep up. I would have no ob-
jection in trying to keep it up, provided I could al-
ways have due notice given, but to think of the prob-
ability of my being taken on surprise at every meeting
which I might attend, of being called on to pray here
and there, and everywhere, I felt conscious that I
should not be able to command variety, form and mat-
72 The Life and Times op
ter sufficient to go through with it. And again I
would think of winding up my prayer with a shout;
and of praying with the spirit and not the understand-
ing. I thought it might answer a few times from a
new beginner, but if repeated too often it would wear
down and become disgusting; and as such injure the
cause of religion. I would sometimes wish it was not
known that I had ever attempted to pray in public.
But I was satisfied the fact would be known as far as
I was known myself.
About one week after my first attempt to make pub-
lic prayer, I was at preaching on the Sabbath day.
The house was crowded with people. I took a seat
somewhere in the back part. The minister preached
a very feeling and pathetic discourse. After he got
through his sermon he gave an invitation to any and
all to come forward who desired an interest in the
prayers of the people of God. Several came forward.
This seemed to animate the soul of the old preaclier ;
he met them on the floor, and exhorted them and the
congregation at large till his strength failed. He then
began to call on his brethren who sat near him one
after another to lead in prayer; they all declined with
a shake of the head. My poor heart began to flutter.
I thought they ought to have consented to try, but
they did not. I wished that I was more experienced,
then T would volunteer my poor efforts ; but I was too
young and inexperienced to do that; and more than
all, it was not a Baptist meeting; but in spite of all
my reasoning I did sympathize with the old man, and
felt anxious to assist him. The old minister rose up
Rev. Johnson Olive. 73
once more and said : " Is it possible that there is not
one in this congregation who is willing to help me
pray for these mourners?"
No one spoke. Just at that moment I saw a sister
step to the j)reacher and wl.nsper in his ear. He in-
stantly turned his face towards me, and called me by
name, and asked me if I would not help him pray for
those mourners. I rose up and started to him and
said, " I will try." My feelings were excited ; 1 pitched
my voice entirely too high ; I prayed aloud, with spirit
and animation; but the understanding wasoverpowered.
As it was on my first attempt so it was now. There
was a great shout and much crying, and I wound up
my prayer as before, by shouting.
After this I began to think more maturely about
the course which I had now undertaken to pursue, and
as I had commenced, I had no inclination to turn
back or come short. I therefore thought I would turn
my attention to the subject of prayer, and endeavor to
cultivate both the spirit and form, in hopes that I
might be able to wind up my next without a shout
from me. I had no idea that my gift extended any
further than that of praying in public. I called to
mind several in the churches around who exercised
in this way, and I made them my patterns. I soon
wore off my diffidence, and was willing to take up the
cross and bear it as a fellow-helper to the truth. My
brethren, unlike myself on this subject, now began to
urge me to go a step further. They would urge me
to give a word of exhortation. I would decline, by
saying, " I have gone to the extent of my gift." Some
4
74 The Life and Times of
of them would urge me strenuously, and when I
would continue to refuse, they would bluff me off by
saying : " Remember Jonah, who fled from the Lord."
Or by saying: "Don't resist the Spirit of the Lord,
for we believe you will have to preach yet."
Of course I thought differently, and believed them
to be mistaken. It is true I would sometimes think I
would rather be a preacher than any other man, more
especially if I could preach like those who were wield-
ing the sword of the Spirit with a masterly hand.
But that was a calling too high for me, and I thought
that I had none of the essential qualifications of a ^
minister of the Gospel. I had neither the mental or
acquired ability. And above all, I felt conscious that
I had not as yet received what I then conceived to be
the internal call.
I was now in my twenty-second year, and it be-
hooved me to begin to think and act for myself in re-
gard to my duty to my God, to myself, and to society.
In my non-age I had a father to provide for my tem-
poral wants. I must now set out upon the rough sea
of life and steer my own boat.
This was a very trying time in mv history. I was
poor, but had come by it honestly. I had inherited it
from my parents. My education was very limited,
but as good as my parents were able to give me. My
constitution was feeble. I would think of trying to
get my living by farming, but the lands were poor,
and no one to labor but myself, and I would become
discouraged. Again, I would think of spending what
little I had of this world's goods in trying to obtain
Rev. Johnson Olive. 75
an education, and then teach school for a living; but
I was now getting too old to go to school. My friends
would advise ine, and their advice was as various as
the workings of my own mind.
I think it was about this period of my life that I
heard a sermon preached from this text: "In all thy
ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."
I felt a desire to submit ray case to the will of the
Lord, but knew not how. I prayed- to the Lord to di-
rect me in all my movements. I knew not then, but
think I know now, how the providential hand of God
directed me.
CHAPTER VI
^
It was during this year that brother Dowd conceived
the idea of getting up a school at his own home, for
the purpose of educating young men for usefulness.
Brother Dowd's explanation of his object to me was
this: "1 have sought out a number of young men,
mostly members of the different churches under my
pastoral care, whom I desire to go to school and pre-
pare themselves to be useful members of society, hop-
ing that some of them may, after awhile, become min-
isters of the Gospel."
I was reminded of the fact that I was one of that
number, and urged upon by brother Dowd to go to
school. Great difficulties rose up in my way. The
76 The Life and Times of
cost of board and tuition ; the time required to accom-
plish the object. And in spite of all that I could say,
or brother Dowd either, my companions and friends
would have their own opinion, that I was going to
school to learn to preach. I knew that was not my
object, yet I dreaded the reproach which that impres-
sion would bring upon me.
Notwithstanding all those difficulties, I made up
my mind to go to school. Brother Dowd failed to
make up his school ; the reason a?signed was that the
young men preferred getting married to going to
school. Only two were willing to make the sacrifice.
I had made my arrangements to go, and was much
disappointed when I learned the result. I knew not
what course to pursue, but conclud-ed that I would go
and consult brother Dowd as to what I had best do.
He advised me to go to school at all hazards, and
promised to assist me in making arrangements to do
so. He said that brother George W. Thompson was
teaching school at an academ}^ in the district of Wake
Forest, and that he was very certain that I could get
in as a student. He also promised to ascertain in a
few days and let me know. The arrangement was
made, and I was to start to school in February, 1839.
Many of my friends and relatives dissuaded me, and
feared that I would regret it when too late. I have
no doubt as to the purity of their motives. They
were illiterate men, and knew not the advantages
of an education. One good brother, a deacon of
the church, too, advised me to read my Bible, and ex-
ercise in prayer and exhortation, believing, as he said,
Rev. Johnson Olive. 77
that to be the best course for me to pursue. He said
that he was fearful education would cool down or
blunt my zeal, and thus injure m}' usefulness. I told
him that I had no idea of preaching or trying to
preach. He asked me if I should feel it my duty to
try to preach if I would not yield to my convictions.
I told liim that I would yield to a sense of duty on
that or any other subject; but that if I should ever
feel it to be my duty to preach I should greatly need
an education, and had no idea that I should ever re-
gret going to school if I should ever be called to
preach.
I soon made my arrangements to leave my father's
house to go to school. I had told my father that I
desired what little he was able to give me to be given
in that way. I had a fine mare which my father had
given me. I told him to sell her and pay my board
and tuition for the first ten months' schooling, which
was done.
I had never left home but for a few days at a time,
and I found it hard to cut loose from those endearing
ties which bind kindred hearts together. But I must
now leave my kindred and friends, and go to a strange
neighborhood, some thirty five or forty miles from
home, to commence the study of my native language,
for T knew nothing of English grammar, history, or
geography. And as to definition,! had never studied it.
I was soon introduced to brother Thompson, and
became a pupil in his school. I boarded with John M.
Fleming, Esq., of Wake. In him and his excellent
wife I found two good and steady friends. They
78 The Life and Times of
treated me like a father and mother. I never shall
forget their kindness to me while memory is retained.
I have learned that Mr. Fleming died some few
years ago. I hope and pray that the Lord will be a
husband to his dear companion, and give her grace to
bear up under all her bereavements; and may his sur-
viving children make their father's God their God ;
and may they find Him a stronghold in the day of
trouble, and a very present help in every time of
need.
I feel a delicacy in speaking much about my worthy
preceptor, George W. Thompson. Nothing that I can
say will add much to his worthy name and character.
He is well known as a truly christian gentleman. As
a teacher of youth, his name stood high. He has had
the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing many of his
former students promoted to stations of honor, and
several have become ministers of the Gospel. I shall
ever hold him in grateful remembrance.
A great change was now commencing in my history,
though unperceived by me at the time. The neigh-
borhood in which I was raised was illiterate, thie peo-
ple generally poor but honest and moral. The people
in the district of Wake Forest were generally well ed-
ucated, and many of them wealthy. The state of so-
ciety was quite different from that I had been accus-
tomed to. Indeed, this part of Wake county was
noted at that time as surpassing any other neighbor-
hood in refinement, good society and wealth. I felt
somewhat embarrassed for awhile, but soon became
iamiliar with the customs and fashions of the neigh-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 79
borhood. Indeed, I was treated with ae much respect
as if I had been the son of some wealthy man. I soon
formed acquaintances, .and made friends of the people
generally. I become intimately acquainted with the
families of the Crenshaws, Thompsons, Dunns, Rog-
erses, Gills, Cooks, Ferrells, Joneses, and others. I also
became acquainted with several of the college stu-
dents. It was in this year that W. T. Brooks and
Pritchard graduated, and some others.
During the ten months in which I attended brother
Thompson's school, I studied English grammar, his-
tory, geography and arithmetic. I succeeded in mak-
ing commendable proficiency in those studies, and in
leaving, the school with a good name.
My connection with that school, and with the good
people of the district, has served as a passport to me
in^all my visits among strangers in different neigh-
borhoods.
It was during this year that brother Thompson's
health failed, so that he declined taking a school for
the next year. I was anxious to go to school one
more session, and that would exhaust my means. I
would much rather xxave gone to the same man at the
same place, but that could not be done, as there would
be no school there.
I returned home to my father's in the latter part of
the year, and soon learned that there was a good school
on Rocky River, in Chatham county, taught by Mr.
Baxter Clegg. I went up to see him, and made ar-
rangements to enter his school. Brother John C. Wil-
80 The Life and Times of
son went with, me, and we boarded with Mr. Minter
Burns, and were students of Pleasant Hill Academy,
taught by Baxter Clegg.
Mr. Burnes' wife was sister to Dr. William Brantley.
We were treated here like sons. We cannot forget
the kind treatment which we received in the house of
Mr. Burns and his wife.
I continued at this school five months, and received
a complimentary recommendation from my teacher
in regard to my moral and christian character; also,
in reference to my proficiency in English grammar,
geography, history and arithmetic. I iiad also formed
a large circ'e of acquaintances in that neighborhood,
and gained many strong friends. This was in the
year of 1840 I now returned home to my father's
again, where I soon niade up a school, and taught five
months. I received a communication from brother
Dowd to come down to his house and board with him,
and teach school in his neighborhood. This was in the
latter part of 1840. In a short time the arrangements
were made and I commenced teaching school near
brother Davvd's, and boarded in his family. I com-
menced in the early part of the year 1841. I taught
a school there the greater portion of this year, and
boarded all the time with brother Dowd's family.
This year was a very pleasant and agreeable period of
my life. I found brother Dowd as agreeable at home
as I had found him at other places. His wife was also
very kind, interesting, and motherly to me. His two
oldest sons were quite small, but they both went to
school to me. Henry A. Dowd, his oldest son, was one
Rev. Johnson Olive. 81
of the kindest hearted boys I ever saw, but too com-
pLicent for his own good. William C. Dowd, his
second son, was a boy of great firmness; he was steady
in all his pursuits and succeeded well. He graduated
at the State University and died soon after. I have
sometimes felt a little proud that I had the honor of
laying the foundation of their education.
It was during this year that brother Dowd tried to
sound me on the subject of preaching the Gospel. I
had now formed ray plan and selected my occupation,
which was to cultivate a small farm in spring and
summer, and teach school in the fall and winter. I
had no idea that I should ever try to preach, but felt
that I could promote the cause of religion better in
some other way. I believed that I could do more good
in prayer meetings and Sabbath schools than I could
evej thfnk of doing in trying to preach ; and more
than all, I had no idea as yet that I had .ver received
a special call to the ministry. So when brother Dowd
would approach me on that subject I would tell him
that it was not my duty to preach, for that I had never
received the special or internal call. He would ask
me my opinion about the special or internal call and
I would ask his. On one occasion it seemed to me
that he tried to shape his explanation on that subject
on purpose to take me in. I felt a little irritated, and
said: "Brother Dowd, I am sorry to think that you and
many others will be so badly mistaken about me.
You and a number of other persons have expressed
your opinion that you will one day hear me preach ;
and I feel certain that you will all be disappointed."
82 The Life and Times op
Brother Dowd replied by saying : " Well, you caay say
what you please and believe as you please, but ray
opinion is that you will have to preach." After this
I do not recollect that he ever spoke to me any more
on that subject while I boarded with him. I had ap-
pointed and held some few prayer meetings, and felt
a willingness to assist in opening conference meetings
in the absence of the minister, but preaching was out
of the question with me,
I was now about to change my manner of life. I was
going to get married to a lad}^ to whom I had been
paying my addresses for several years, and who had
waited as patiently for me as Rachel did for old Ja-
cob. So on the 23d day of December, 1841, I was
married to Miss Martha Hunter, daughter of the late
Alsey Hunter, of Wake county. This lady, like my-
self, had but a very limited education, and but few
opportunities for improvement of any kind. She pos-
sessed some valuable qualities : a strong constitution,
good natural sense, patience, and industrial habits.
Indeed, I have never had cause to regret my marriage
to her. Many of my brethren and friends thought
that I had acted strangely in spending three years in
going to school and teaching school to get just where
I was in 1838. They said I could have married and
settled down on my little farm three years' ago just as
well as I could now, and if I intended to get my liv-
ing by labor it would have been better for me to have
done so, as I was no better off in the world now than I
was then. It seemed as if their hopes and prospects
were cut ofif as to my future usefulness in the cause of
Rev. Johnson Olive. 83
Christ. I, however, felt that I could go to the extent
of my call as well in my present position as in any
other, for I would attend to my church meetings, and
always be ready to bear my portion of the expenses of
the church, and officiate in prayer and praise.
I went to work, and felt very pleasantly situated for
a time ; but sometime during the summer of 1842 I
became very much concerned upon the subject of the
ministry. As I would be following my plow I would
think of a passage of scripture and meditate o)i its
meaning and try to give to it its true interpretation,
and sometimes I would become so much taken up with
this exercise of mind that I would unconsciously speak
out my thoughts. Then I would think surely I am
out of my line of duty, for I am not following out my
plan of life. I would drop the subject and whistle or
sing while following my plow. Again a text of Scrip-
ture would present itself to my mind with such force
and light that I must consider its true interpretation.
I would often think if I were a preacher how I would
explain that passage.
After a while I became restless for fear that my
plans were about to fall through; for it seemed to me
that the subject of preaching was continually before
me. I tried to attribute it to the temptations of the
devil, who was endeavoring to get me to undertake
something I could not accomplish, and then all who
beheld me would say this man commenced building
but was not able to finish. About this time 1 went to
meeting one Sabbath. Brother James Dennis preached.
He called on me to pray at the close of his sermon.
84 The Life and Times of
After the Qieeting was dismissed brother Dennis came to
me and said : " Brother Olive, don't quench the Spirit;
if you do you will re[)ent it ; and I fear you have been
doing it already. My impression is that the Lord has
a work for you to do, and you had better do it." I
thought very strange of these remark?, as I had never
told any human being what had been going on in my
mind for some weeks or months. How should he have
any idea of my situation.
It was not long after this when J became so restless
that concealment was imi)racticable. I first opened
my mind on this subject to ray wife. I told her that
things were working differently from my expectation ;
that I had told her that I never expected to try to
preach, but now it seemed I must try at all hazards.
She asked me if I thought 1 could preach? To which
I replied : " I don't know that I can, but feel that I must
try, as nothing short of a trial will ever relieve my
mind." I was at this time very unhaf»py; my former
plans of life seemed to be falling through, and I must
now enter upon an untried course, not knowing
whether I should succeed or fail in my undertaking.
I had, however, become willing to bear the reproach,
if any, and the shame, loo, even though I should make
a failure. Peace of mind was what I desired, and to
have a conscience void of offence both toward God and
man was my highest ambition, for with that I would
be happy, but without it I must be miserable. I there-
fore told my wife I would make the effort, and if I
failed and became convinced that I was wrong or mis^
Rev. Johnson Olive. 85
taken in wbal I then conceived to be my duty, I would
instantly desist and return to my former plan of life.
CHAPTER VII
./
I soon made an appointment to hold a meeting at a
church. I made no appointment to preach, but inten-
ded to try when the time arrived. The day came and
Iw^asthere; a good congregation also met, as I sup-
posed, to hear what I would have to say. After sing-
ing and prayer, I read a portion of the Scriptures, and
then commenced talking about what I had just read.
I thus came to my text, without announcing it as
a text, and made the best of it I could. I en-
joyed more liberty in speaking than I had antici-
pated. After the services were over I started for
home. I had seldom, if ever, felt more pleasant in
mind than I did then. I felt that I had discharged
my duty, and the consciousness of having done so
gave to me a peace of mind which the world cannot
bestow. I had not gone far before the tempter came
to interfere with my haf)py frame of mind. He asked
me if I thought I could preach again that evening.
My answer was " no." "Then," said the tempter, "you
can never be a preacher ; for preachers often preach
two or three times in a day ; and now," said he, " sup-
pose you had an appointment to preach to-night, what
would you do; would you try to preach or not?" I
felt as empty as a gun which has just been discharged
of its load, and as barren as a tree whose fruit has all
86 The Life and Times of
fallen off. He further said, if it was my duty to preach
I would not feel thus, but I would always be ready-
in season and out of season — always abounding in
the work of the Lord.
I began to think that I never should try again, for
that the burden which had been rolled on my mind
was now rolled off, and there was nothing more for me
to do in the way of preaching. The news was now
circulating through the surrounding country that I
had preached an excellent sermon; and the hopes and
expectations of many were raised very high. I was
not ignorant of what was going on in the public mind.
But according to my feelings for a few days it seemed
to me that I had preached my first and last sermon,
for my stock of preaching was exhausted. This state
of mind, however, did not last long. The burden be-
gan to roll on again ; the leaven of preaching began
to work again, and I soon felt anxious for the time to
come for me to roll off the burden which I felt the
Lord had rolled on my mind. Thus I followed up my
appointments for some time. 1 was also often re-
quested to fill appointments for other ministers, which
I frequently did. My church soon took notice of me,
and passed an order of conference to grant me license
to preach wherever the providence of God should call
me to go. Written license I never had, as ray labors
were confined within the circle of my acquaintance.
As such I never called for them. These things took
place about the date of 1843. I will here state that at
the time I commenced trying to preach there was no
revival of religion in the neighborhood where I lived.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 87
The love of many who had joined the church about
the time I did now seemed to wax cold. There was
nothing perceptible tostimulate me in this undertaking
but the workings of God's Spirit upon my mind. This
operated on me both by day and by night, in many
respects similar to the workings of the same Spirit
j{)on my heart and mind when I was under convic-
tion for sin. I could not be contented to let the sub-
ject alone. I must consider it, and the more I thought
about it the more I felt it to be my duty to make the
effort.
From the time I commenced trying to preach till
I was ordained to the ministry was a period of about
five years. During this time I continued trying to dis-
charge my duty as a licentiate preacher. It is true I
met with some difficulties, but those difficulties per-
tained mostly to myself. I was naturally timid and
diffident. My weakness and imperfections crowded
upon me, and in some few instances I was discouraged
by brethren who said I was too much of an Arminian.
But as a general thing, I am certain that I passed for
more than my worth. Many persons would speak in
high terms of commendation to my face. This always
made me feel unpleasani, and I am certain they acted
very imprudently in doing so, for I was conscious
that the expectations of both church and people were
raised too high ia regard to my gifts in the ministry.
I was often urged by my church to accept of ordina-
tion. The same thing was urged upon me by other
churches and many brethren. I would reply by say-
ing, I have all the liberty that I desire ; I can preach
88 The Life and Times of
»
wherever the providence of God calls me to go. In
this way ray ordination was deferred for four or five
years. For some two years previous to my ordination
I was preaching statedly at different churches, which
were without pastors, and as I could not administer
the ordinances the churches were left in an awkward
position. They were sometimes put to a great deal of
trouble and delay to get a minister to administer the
ordinance of baptism. It was owing to this, more than
to anything else, that I consented to be sent up to the
Association in 1847 to be examined and if found
worthy to be ordained. I was this year preaching at
Shady Grove and Holly Springs, and I think at Bell's
Church. The brethren treated me with due respect
and brotherly love. ^ Large congregations generally at-
tended on the Sabbath ; and I had the satisfaction to
believe that I had the good will and confidence of all
classes. I felt some reluctance in taking upon myself
the responsibilites of an ordained minister, but the
state of things seemed to demand it, and to the re-
quest and entreaty of my church and brethren I
yielded.
Myself and brother James C. Marcom were both
sent up to the Raleigh Association in the year 1847,
to be examined for ordination. We were both exam-
amined together, by all the ministers present, in the
presence of the whole Association. I was ordained
there and then, by prayer and imposition of hands,
and brother Marcom was found worthy, but at the
special request of his church he was sent back to his
church to be ordained there. A presbytery was ap-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 89
pointed at the Association for the purpose, who soon
after met at his church and ordained him. It was a
serious and solemn time with me, for I felt that the
vows of God were upon me. The Association was held
this vear with the church at Cumberland Union, Cum-
berland (now Harnett) county, North Carolina.
Having been ordained to the Gospel ministry in the
presence of the Raleigh Association by the wnrlhy
ministers present, who were the following, viz : Joh!i
Purefoy, William Jones, James Purefoy, D. L. Wil-
liams, S. Senter, Ezekiel Holland, Robert I. Devin
and James Dennis, and recommended by them as a
faithful minister of the Gospel of the Baptist denomi-
nation, I felt under the strongest obligation to God and
to them to endeavor to carry out the charge that was
given by my aged father in the ministry, John Pure-
foy. I had thus received a passport from them to give
me access to the churches and to the denomination at
large. I desired to be enabled rightly to divide the
word of truth, giving to each class of hearers their
portion in due season. I must therefore study to show
myself approved. I was very soon called to take the
pastoral care of four churches. Shady Grove, Holly
Springs, Mount Pisgah and Cedar Fork.
I was young in the ministry and inexperienced, but
I intended to do the best I could. I hired a man to
cultivate my farm, and I gave myself up to the min-
istry. I studied the Scriptures and read religious
books, and prayed the Lord to direct my steps aright.
I continued to preach for those churches some two or
three years, when I concluded to resign my pastoral
90 The Life and Times of
charge with two of them. On leaving them I had the
satisfactory evidence that they had nothing against
me nor I against them ; but felt that the circum-
stances demanded the separation. I continued my
pastoral connection with the other two, viz : Holly
Springs and Cedar Fork for eleven years in succession,
and then resigned my pastoral connection with them,
from the fact that I had previously made up my mind
to leave this country and go west. I parted with them
with very affectionate and tender feelings.
The times of which I am now writing includes a pe-
riod of twelve years, the most active and effective years
of my life. Besides the churches above mentioned, I was
chosen pastor of Salem Church, Wake county, Mount
Moriah, Orange county, Wake Bethel, Wake county,
and at Olive Chapel I preached for several years. I also
preached a short time to the churches of Mount Mo-
riah, in Wake county, and Ephesus, in the same county.
These churches included the principal field of my
labors. We had glorious revivals at several of these
churches. At Mount Pisgah, Cedar Fork, Holly
Springs, Shady Grove, Olive's Chapel and Salem, there
were great numbers added to the church. I have no
doubt that the Lord was with me while I was preach-
ing at those places, and attended the word preached
by the influences of His' Holy Spirit.
I also preached a great many funerals at private
houses, and married more persons than any other man
who lived in the bounds of my acquaintance. The
circle of my acquaintance was not very large, extend-
ing mainly to two or three counties, but within those
Rev. Johnson Olive. 91
boundaries, perhaps, no man ever had more friends
and fewer enemies than I did. I was treated with
respect and marked attention wherever I went. The
expression was often made, both by church and world,
that there was a woe in reserve for me, because all
men spoke well of me; however this may be, we will
see by and by.
CHAPTER VIII.
/
Perhaps the reader would like to know some of the
maxims of life which helped to bring about the favor-
able opinion entertained by all classes towards me.
I state this in no spirit of boasting. In the first place,
I determined when quite young that I would never
act or speak in a manner to disparage the character of
a lady, but I would always speak and act to their
praise, or have nothing to say about them ; for I con-
sidered the good name and fair fame worth more to a
lady than all earthly good besides. I also determined
to speak and act in a way to make as many friends
and as few enemies as posssible. My motto was to do
all the good I could and as little harm as possible. I
would often think of that passage of Scripture which
says, if it be possible live peaceably with all men.
My motive was not to court personal applause, but to
ingratiate myself into the esteem and affections of the
people, in order that I might be the better prepared to
, produce a favorable impression on their minds upon
92 The Life and Times of
the subject of religion. I was of the opinion that
unless I had their confidence and good will I should
not be able to do them any material good ; for no man
can expect to accomplish much good except the people
have confidence in him. Another reason why I rose
so high and stood so fair in the estimation of the peo-
ple generally was, that I had no inclination or taste
for religious controversy. I was firm* and fixed in my
own religious sentiments, both in regard to doctrine
and practice, but did not indulge in faultfinding with
those who differed with me. I felt that I could accom-
plish more good in a friendly and conciliating manner
than I would be likely to do in any other. From this
fact more than any other I was held in high respect
with other denominations. They would invite me to
preach in their pulpits, and frequently call on me to
preach the funeral of their departed loved ones, and
perform ^the ceremony of marriage in their families.
Another reason why I fared so well and escaped per-
secution v^as that I had a very large family connec-
tion both on my father's and mother's side, and they
were generally of good moral and religious standing.
Also, when I married, my wife had a large family
connection who stood equally fair with my own, and
in addition to all this we botii had a number of strong
personal friends. My labors were confined within the
limits of those influences. Those relatives and friends
forming a wall or hedge around me saved me from
many a fiery dart from my adversary, and many a hard
blow from my enemy. The tongue of slander could
not assail me, and the hand of persecution was stayed.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 93
I will here relate a little conversation which I had
with a minister of the Gospel who was well acquainted
with me from the time T first embraced religion. He
said I had the smoothest road to travel of any min-
ister he ever knew, and assigned as a reason for it the
above named facts. With me, said he, it has been
quite different; I have had a rough road to travel ;
persecution has assailed me, and the tongue of slan-
der has been busy; if it had been you against whom
they vented their spite, situated as you are and sur-
rounded as you are, they could not have injured you,
for both church and people would have stood up in
your defence.
From what I have stated in the foregoing remarks,
it will be seen that the lines had fallen to me in pleas-
ant places; that my situation in life, and the circum-
stances that surrounded me, were favorable to useful-
ness, living in the midst of numerous families of rela-
tives and friends. Those relatives and friends were
connected with the different denominations of chris-
tians, and many of them of high standing in society,
and wielding a considerable influence upon the pub-
lic mind. All these things taken together rendered
my situation very desirable. This was my situation
for a period of twelve years ; that is while I was preach-
ing as an ordained minister. I would often think of
my favorable position in human life, and wonder how
I had gotten there. I was poor, but contented and
happy in my favorable position. I had food and rai-
ment for myself and family, and was therewith con-
tent. I would often ask the question, what hath God
94 The Life and Times of
wrought? He has taken me by the hand, as it were,
and led me to the fountain of His grace ; He has taken
me into His family and given me favor in the'sightof
men; He has touched my heart with the fire of His
love, and loosed my tongue to speak His praise. I will
remember the pit from which I was dug; the quarry
from which I was raised, and the rock from which I
was hewn. It is the Lord's doings, and it is marvelous
in my sight; and would close my reverie by saying:
" By the grace of God I am what I am."
I was much concerned during the years of 1857 and
1858 about my family. We had seven children, five
sons and two daughters. My land was poor and my
farm small, and my children growing up with little
education, and no prospects of laboring to advantage.
I began to make arrangements to leave this country
and go to the far West. To this my friends and rela-
tives generally objected, but their arguments were not
sufficient to dissuade me from undertaking it. I was
conscious that the Lord had abundantly blessed my
labors among my relatives and friends, and many
seals had been added to my ministry. The churches
where I preached were generally in a flourishing con-
dition, and they were doing as well by me as I oould
ask, but not enough to support ray. growing family
without other resources. The brethren would ofien
ask me my reason for wanting to leave, and tell me
that my prospects for doing good were never brighter
than they were then, and that the confidence of both
church and people had not abated in the least. They
bad no idea that I would ever find a place where the
Rev. Johnson Olive. 95
advantages and means of doinu good would be as great,
or even equal, to what they were here. I had preached
to the parents and children for ten or twelve years,
and the attacl\ments were very strong. My manner
of preaching had been of a nature to win the hearts of
christians generally, and to gain the respect of all
classes of hearers. (I would not have the reader to
understand that every body was pleased with my
preaching, for there were always some to find fault;
but my meaning is, that my preaching was gen-
erally as acceptable to all classes as that of any other
minister.) My greatest fears were that the people
thought more highly of me than they ought to think.
I was not so ignorant as not to know that my preach-
ing talents were only ordinary; and all above that,
was to be traced to other causes. Yet, some how or
other, there was an impression in the minds of many
that I possessed some extraordinary powers, and it was
said by some that people worshipped me more than
they did their Creator. Of course alT this was very
unpleasant to me, but I could not help it, for I never
sought it, or desired it of any man.
I was somewhat troubled in my mind one day at
the remark of a wicked man, when I was informed
that he had been complimenting my preaching, and
said that when he died he wanted me to preach his
funeral, for I could come as nigh preaching a man
from hell to heaven as any man he ever heard ; or that
I could do that if any other man could. Now, while
I knew that to be the case, I did not approve of the
manner in which it was uttered, and feared he was
96 The Life and Times of
looking more to the creature than to the Creator, to
deliver him from under the bondage of sin and Satan,
and prepare him for heaven. I am yet of the same
opinion. I have no doubt that many people idolized
me, as they have many other men before me. I
thought if I could go where I would be a stranger to
the people, and they strangers to me, those outside in-
fluences would not have such an influence in waving
the minds of my hearers, and that the simple truths
of the Gospel, attended by the Spirit, would have a
more salutar}^ effect. My children, too, would be
placed where they could labor to more advantage than
they were like'y to do here. I therefore persisted in
my determination to move West.
I found it hard to cut loose from my dear relatives
and friends, and from those lovely churches, where I
had enjoyed so many happy seasons; those endearing
ties, wiiich bind kindred hearts together seemed to
draw more closely as the time drew nearer for me to
wind up my concerns here. I however sold my little
land and home, hoping to be better prepared to leave
in a short time.
This was in 1859. But very soon affliction in my
family put this matter off for a longer time. My
arrangements all fell through. I had a little son who-
had been an invalid for several years, but while there
were no prospects of his ever being sound and healthy,
he appeared to be improving. The health of our
oldest child now became delicate, her constitution
rapidly gave way, and in a short time she was so feeble
that I could not think of leaving, with two of our
Rev. Johnson Olive. 97
children so unwell as to appear more like dying than
living. Thus I was under the necessity of looking out
for another home for my family, as I had made way
with our present home. I rode about in the surround-
ing country for 'some weeks, looking for a suitable
home for myself and family. There was no difficulty
in finding a place that would suit me in my calling
as a minister of the Gospel, but to find a place suita-
ble for my boys to labor to advantage, and have an
opportunity of going to school, was not so easy. I
made this memorable remark before I succeeded in
getting a place: "If I ever get another home, I will
never turn myself and family out of doors again."
Late in the fall of 1859 I bought a home some four-
teen miles south-east of where I formerly lived. There
were some things connected with the location which
suited me very well, and others were very unfavor-
able. The land w^as much better suited to farming
than where I had been living, and the society was
equally as good, and one of the most peaceable neigh-
borhoods in the county of Wake. All this was favor-
able; but I was now to be further removed from the
churches and people with whom I had been so long
intimate, and w^ould have to ride some distance to at-
tend my appointments.
I moved my family to the place where I now live a
few days before Christmas, 1859. My daughter's health
seemed to improve some; our little son continued
about the same. The time was drawing near for me
to enter upon a new period in the history of my life,
but I was not aware of it till some few months had
passed. 5
98 The Life and Times of
I commenced making arrangements for farming by
clearing up brier patches and re|>airing fences during
the forepart of the year 1860. I had also promised to
preach tor three or lour churches monthly. These
churches were ten, twelve and fifteen miles from home.
I was closely engaged at home five days in the week,
trying to prepare for my boys to make a crop. I had
but little time to read or study, except at night. When
Saturday morning came I must start early in order to
be at the meeting-house in time, and the most of my
preparations for preaching were made while riding
along to my appointments. I generally felt poorly
prepared for the services, but always did the best I
could under the circumstances in which I found my-
self placed. My presence was greatly needed at home,
for our little afflicted son was almost as helpless as an
infant, and the delicate health of our daughter ren-
dered her unable to do much for the benefit of the
family. Thus the burden was loo heavy for my dear
wife to bear without assistance. Her health and courage
seemed to be giving way. I always assisted her as well
as I knew how when I was at home, but being fre-
quently called off to preach funerals, and to marry
young people, as well as attend my regular appoint-
ments, the labors of my wife were more than she was
able to bear.
In this way days and weeks and months passed
away before I discovered any material change in my-
self. I had long been inclined to bow in humble sub-
mission to the Providences of God, and never to
mourn or grieve for that over which I had no control.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 99
I knew that the affliction of our children was a provi-
dential thing, and I could only pray th^t it might be
sanctified to our good ; and of course it was my heart's
desire and prayer to God that they might be restored
to health. But to think of mourning or complaining,
as many did under such circumstances, never entered
my mind, as I have any recollection. Of course I felt
some unpleasant forebodings with respect to my chil-
dren and wife, but as to myself I felt that I was pre-
pared for whatever event might occur, for I believed
that I was rooted and grounded in the doctrines of
Christianity, both in spirit and letter. I had often
expressed myself to be resigned to the will of the
Lord, under any and all circumstances, and was hon-
est and sincere in all my expressions. But I was rap-
idly approaching a crisis in my history of which I
was perfectly ignorant, and for which I would find
myself unprepared by the decision of my own judg-
ment.
Early in the spring of this year I began to feel as I
had never felt before since I began to preach. My
mind seemed to be locked up on the subject. I found
great difficulty in selecting a text, and when I had
found one, the same difficulty was found in trying to
keep my mind upon it for any length of time; and
not unfrequently every connection of thought upon a
text of Scripture would vanish from my mind, and I
would be under the necessity of looking out for an-
other. And sometimes this would be the case just be-
fore the hour of preaching. My mind would appear
dark and barren, so that I would experience great
100 The Life and Times of
difficulty in my attempts to preach. The cross be-
came heavy and burdensome, though I felt that I must
bear it, for to think of loosening my hands from the
Gospel plow after having followed it so long was un-
welcome to me. Yet to continue to try to preach in
that state of mind and spirit was equally intolerable.
I soon began to dread to see the time come for me
to go to my appointment. I would not, however, de-
cline going, unless I could render some plausable ex-
cuse. Go I must, and go I did; but felt poorly pre-
pared to preach with satisfaction to myself or benefit
to the people.
On these occasions, however, as well as on all others,
I did the best I could. And in order to make up
the deficiency of spiritual and mental defect, I would
exert all my natural powers. Thus, when I was
done preaching, I found myself nearly as wet with
perspiration as if I had been dipped in water.
All this time I had no idea of what was coming. I
was conscious that there was a cause for this barren-
ness of soul — this darkness, this lowness of spirit. In
short, this great dearth in my religious experience. I
was of opinion that this state of things was owing to
the fact that I had been so much engaged about my
domestic concerns that I had not found time to read
and study as much as I had formerly done, more than
to anything else.
Now, in order to remedy this difficulty, I promised
to do better. That I would study to show myself ap-
proved, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed,
rightly dividing the Word of Truth. I commenced
Rev. Johnson Olive. 101
reading the Scriptures more frequently, but found
great difficulty in keeping in mind anything that I
read. And as to study, it seemed impossible for me
to keep my mind on any subject long enough to ac-
complish any good. Then I betook myself to secret
prayer and pleading the promises. I followed up this
for some time, but could never feel the spirit of prayer
as I had felt on former occasions. It seemed to me
that I could speak the words of prayer as well as I
ever could, but that there was no life in it. I would
often go several times in the course of a day, and
when I would rise from my knees my prayers would
appear to me like poor dead things.
I was all this time going on as if nothing had been
amiss. I followed up my appointments, and attended
to my domestic affairs without so much as intimating
to any person the state of my mind. It is true I had
hard work in trying to preach, and it has always ap-
peared that my brethren must have noticed the diffi-
culty under which I was laboring ; but as before
stated, I always did the lest I could, and I suppose
they expected nothing more. And more than that, I
exerted all my animal powers to make up the de-
ficiency.
102 The Life and Times of
CHAPTER IX. >^
Time passed on, and I was growing worse daily, but
hoping and praying for the better, till June. It was
in this month that other trials came on. Our oldest
child, our beloved daughter, who had been of feeble
health for several years, (but who had seemed to be im-
proving in health for some time,) died, after a short
attack of typhoid fever. She lived but little over a
week after being taken.
Her mother, already weighed down with the troubles
and sorrows of an afflicted family, seemed almost in-
consolable under this great bereavement. I was able
to bear it with patience and fortitude. I tried to recon-
cile my wife by telling her that our loss was our dear
Sarah's gain, for it seemed that her health would not
permit her to enjoy life here, but she had gone to a
more congenial world ; for we had no reason to doubt
her religion. She embraced religion when young, and
united with the church soon after, and had always
lived a consistent life. She was baptized by her father,
and was always an obedient and dutiful child; and if
it were not for my dear wife and children, I felt like I
would rather leave the body and go with my dear
Sarah to that better world. My faith was yet strong,
and my hope was firm. Brother P. W. Dowd preached
her funeral before she was buried. He preached a
very consoling and pathetic discourse, and I felt recon-
ciled to the providence of God in taking her from the
Rev. Johnson Olive. 103
evil of the woild. I could say, " The Lord gave, and
the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of
the Lord."
But I did not see the darkness that was gathering
over my poor soul. I was now in hopes that the gloom
would soon pass away, and that the Son of Righteous-
ness would arise again fresh to my soul, and that I
could once more have God's face to shine upon me.
I went to some few of my appointments after the
death of my daughter, and tried to preach several
times, but found the same difficulties in the way as I
had found before. Indeed, I perceived that I was
growing worse. I would, however, try to rally up and
conceal the state of my mind as much as possible. I
felt great reluctance in "letting an}^ person know that
there was any thing amiss with me. I still entertained
hopes that the state of my mind would soon change
for the better. The cross of preaching became still
more galling, until I dreaded it as bad as a child
would dread to take a whipping. , I also followed up
secret prayer until I felt that I was committing a sin
by trying to force myself upon the mercy and favor of
God. My efforts all proved unavailing. The heavens
were as brass over me, and the ear of God seemed
closed to my importunities. Under this state of things
I began to refrain from secret prayer, feeling, as I did,
that it would be sinning presumptuously against God.
Sometimes, however, I felt so miserable that I must
needs do something, and as I knew nothing better I
would try it again, but every time it was the poor dead
thing. I also followed up preaching occasionally, till
104 The Life and Times of
it seemed I could preach no more, as I appeared to
have no assistance but poor self.
About this time I began to fear that the conse-
quences would be serious and awful. Sometimes I
would think that the cause which produced this effect
might be physical, at other times I would think it was
a judgment sent on me for some sin-which I had com-
mitted, but as I could fix on no particular sin of a
heinous nature, or v/ilful or outbreaking sin that would
seem to bring down the frowning blast of Jehovah, I
was disposed to look at natural causes first. I there-
fore sought a private interview with a physician, told
him some of my feelings, and requested him to ex-
amine me thoroughly, to see if he could detect any
disease in my system which would be likely to lead to or
bring on the present state of things. He examined me,
and said he could discover no symptoms of disease in
my system. I then told him if it was not in my sys-
tem it was in my mind, and asked him if he could do
any thing to release me. His answer was: "If it be
your mind, you ought to be a better judge of that than
I am." And then commenced jesting me, and said he
was somewhat surprised to see me with the blues, and
gave me some directions how to break them. I took
it all in good part, and would have rejoiced if I could
have believed it to be so. But I knew enough about
that disease to convince me that I was laboring under
something of a more serious nature, because I had
now began to doubt the reality of my religion ; and
finding that the doctor had pronounced me free from
bodily disease, I was more thoroughly convinced that
Rev. Johnson Olive. 105
the cause was to.be sought and found, if found at all,
in something connected with ray religion.
Previous to the interview which I had with the
doctor, I was in great doubts and fears about my spir-
itual condition. Even before I quit preaching I had
some misgivings in my mind on the genuineness of
my religion. I felt that God had withdrawn from me
His supporting grace; and the light of His counte-
nance was hid from me.
I had an appointment to preach a funeral at Holly
Springs— I think it was in the month of August. I
tried every way I could to get some preacher to fill my
appointment there. I would tell them that I did not
feel that I could preach, and that I felt that it would
be wrong for me to make the attempt. One minister
promised to go if I would also attend, and if I did not
feel better when I got there he would preach, that is, if
I would not. The day came, and I went. When I
got there I found a very respectable congregation, but
on enquiry, the man who made the promise was not
there. I had an interview with two of the Deacons
of the church, and told them I was in no condition to
preach, and related to them some of my sensations and
feelings. In order to console me one of them replied
that " All things should work together for good to them
that love the Lord." I replied that I feared that I was
not entitled to that promise, as it seemed that I was
destitute of all spiritual light and comfort. But as
the appointment had been made for me to preach, and
as the people had met, and the friends and relatives of
the deceased insisted I must preach or there would
106 The Life and Times of
be a disappointment, I therefore consented to try.
My feelings were awful. I got up and made some
apologies, which I was not in the habit of doing, then
commenced the services in the usual form. My text
was this: "All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of
man as the flower of grass; the grass withereth and
the flower thereof falleth away." "So is all the glory
of man," said I. And I felt that I had selected a suit-
able text for my own funeral. I did the best I could
under the circumstances, but felt that it was but a
poor preach. Others spoke of it afterwards as being a
good sermon, and urged that as one reason why I
should go on in preaching the Gospel.
This was my last sermon for a period of five years ;
and I then thought it would be my last in this world.
On reflection, T felt that I had done wrong in trying
to preach so long any way, but more particularly so
in making the attempt that time, for it seemed, on that
occasion,! had sinned presumptuously.
I now determined I would preach no more unless I
should find relief from my troubles. By this time my
case became the topic of conversation in my neigh-
borhood and in the circle of my acquaintance; all
seemed to be concerned about me, but none knew how
far I was gone, nor how fast I was sinking. Even to
mv own mind it w:\3 not revealed. Numbers came to
see me — relatives, friends and brethren all united to
do all that human power could do to deliver me from
that unhappy state. Meanwhile I was anxiously en-
quiring and searching to find the cause which had
produced the efi'ect. I examined and re-examined my
Rev. Johnson Olive. 107
whole christian experience, and although I had done
many things which I ought not to have done, and left
undone many that I ought to have done, yet, upon the
whole, I thought my experienc was about as good as
the experience of many others. In short, I thought
my christian edifice looked as well as my neighbors'
houses; and although there were some pieces of tim-
ber put in that 1 wished had been left out, and some
that would have fitted better could they have been put
in their ] laces, yet I was not inclined to pull the house
down, but felt that it might answer the purpose for
which it Was intended.
My daily business was to search for the cause which
had brought me to my unhappy condition. I retro-
spected all my past history, more especially the five
years during which I had been the subject of convic-
tion for sin, the manner and way, the time and place
in which and where I obtained deliverance.
And then follows on five years more while I was a
member of the church but not exercising in the way
of preaching ; five years more while I was preaching
as a licensed minister; and then the twelve years
during which time I had been preaching as an or-
dained minister, and this would bring me through.
I traveled this road backwards and forwards many
times looking for that cause which had produced such
a sad state of feeling in my mind. I was daily grow-
ing worse, and my prospects of getting out became
more and more gloomy. I was yet clinging to my
hope, and struggling to retain my faith in God ; but
I felt as sensible that an awful crisis in this affair was
108 The Life and Times of
approaching as I did of any future event. It did seem
to me that I could feel the darkness tliat was brewing
upon me; and although I could not tell what the re-
sult would be, I was conscious it would be something
awful. Sometimes I would think i)erhaps I am going
deranged, and if so, I would rather die than live.
While I was meditating on this subject I came to the
conclusion -in my own mind that if I could die it
would be best for all— belter for^me, for my family, for
the churches and friends, an.d the people generally ;
for I had no idea that I should ever be of any more
use to any one. I would consider and reconsider those
dreadful forebodings which were continually crowd-
ing on my mind. I dreaded the awful consequences
which I felt must result from what was coming, though
I knew not what it was; but let it be what it might,
I would rather die and risk the consequences* of the
future than to abide the approaching crisis.
All this time my family, my relatives and friends
were attributing my case to causes which I felt had
but little, if any, bearing. They were of opinion that
my mind had been overburdened by affliction in my
family — being frustrated in my purposes of moving,
and the death of a beloved daughter — and the general
impression was that I was only laboring under men-
tal depression. 1 was told by my best friends to quit
studying, and go on in the discharge of my duties,
and it would soon wear off, for it was nothing but the
hippo, or blues. I did not doubt their sincerity, or
the purity of 'their motives, but I was satisfied ihey
knew but little of what a warfare there was going on
Rev. Johnson Olive. 109
in my mind. I had not told the twentieth part. I
would continue to believe that it would be better for
all for me to die than to live.
About this time I began to try to pray that I might
die suddenly, as I saw no prospect of ever being of
any more benefit to my family, or to any one else; I
thought I would rather die than be a nuisance. I did
not feel very well satisfied about the future conse-
quences, but I was willing to risk that, as I felt I
should never get any better.
I have given some of my thoughts about dreams in
a former chapter. I will here state that I am of the
same opinion now as^then ; yet as the Bible authorizes
him who has a dream to tell a dream, I will here re-
late one of the most forcible and affecting dreams that
ever passed through my mind : I had been thinking
of my unhappy condition for some time, and searching
for the cause, but could not find it, till I was anxious
to die, and get out of the world, and no longer be a
trouble to my family and friends. I finally concluded,
if I could lie down at night and die without a struggle,
o-r go to sleep and wake up in eternity, it would be the
most welcome death that I could think of. I felt that
I desired it; I wished for it, and tried to pray that it
might be so. Night came on ; I lay down very early;
my family were sitting up by the fireside; I tried to
resign myself to death ; hoped it would come; wished
for it, and desired it ; and with these thoughts revolv-
ing in my mind I went to sleep. I had not been
doziiig long before death came in the shape and form
of a skeleton of a giant. He was tall and strong, with
110 The Life and Times of
no flesh on his bones. I knew his name was death.
He came up to where I was lying and asked me if I
was ready to go. I replied ''yes," as I felt it would
be better for me and all others. He said he had come
for me if I was ready to go. I told him I was; and
he laid his strong, bony hand gently upon my throat
and asked me again if I was ready to go. I again
replied that I was, when he pressed me on the throat
and asked the question again : " Are you now ready
to go?" I assented, and he pressed me still harder and
asked the same question, and I gave a like answer,
when he continued pressing harder and asking, "Are
you now ready to go?" Receiving the same answer
from me as before for several times, my breath became
doubly sweet, as it was difficult for me to breathe ; yet
I continued to give in, by answering that I was ready
to go, till I drew my last breath, and knew it to be my
last, from the fact that his hand gripped me so hard
that it would be impossible for me to breathe any
more. That was the sweetest breath I ever drew, and
I wished that I could draw one more ; but his hand
was pressing too hard, and I began to struggle, and in
my struggling I raised my hand to break his grip, so
that I might breathe once more, as breath was so very
sweet. In my struggle I awoke, and behold ! it was a
dream.
My wife, and some of my children were still sitting
up by the fireside. I knew by that I had not been
sleeping very long. I lay where I was, meditating
upon what had just passed through my mind in a
dream. I wished that I had died, but it was not so.
Rkv. Johnson Olive. HI
I thought if I had not raised my hand to break his
grip I should have died, and wished that I had not
done it. It seemed that raising my hand to push his
off was an evidence that I was not willing to die, after
all my wishes, desires and prayers. I concluded if it
were to do over again I would not raise my hand,
notwithstanding breath was so sweet.
When morning came I was ten fold more miserable
than I had been before. I could not refrain from
speaking of my forlorn condition. I told my wife that
I had came near dying last night, and wished that I
had. She told me it was nothing but a nightmare ;
that she had had many of them. I said but litt'e
more then, but walked out to see how things appeared.
I found myself to be the deadest man to be living that
I had ever seen. I was dead to faith, hope, and re-
ligion. I felt that I was given up of God, and in the
hands of the devil, to be tormented by him while I
lived, and punished by him after death. The awful
crisis was now at hand. Hopeless despair had now
laid fast hold on me. I was restless, and dissatisfied
anywhere and everywhere. I was constantly going
from place to place about the plantation, preferring to
be alone ; my mind was like the troubled sea that can-
not rest. I did not believe that I could live under the
load of sin and guilt which was now pressing me
down. I had now found out the cause of all my misery.
I had caught the shadow and missed the substance;
I had built my hoiise on the sand, instead of building
on the rock, T now saw my folly ; but it was too late
112 The Life and Times of
to become wise. I had suffered myself to be imposed
upon by the devil, and I was now left to take care of
myself, if I could.
Id looking back to ray first religious experience I
saw things in quite a different light from what I had
ever seen them before. The devil had transformed
himself into an angel of light, and made me believe
him to be God ; I had yielded to his temptations, and
false teachings, till I ascribed to him all that I had
ever experienced ; and now having accomplished his
design and purposes with me, he had taken off* the
mask to let me see what a fool he had made of me.
My consternation, grief and sorrow, all rushing upon
me, made me feel that I had acted the part of Judas
Iscariot. I felt that I had denied the Lord of Glory- •
crucified the Son of God afresh, and put Him to open
shame; and hence, there remained no more sacrifice
for sin. My doom was now sea.ed ; my destiny was
fixed; an outcast from God, a vagabond and a fugi-
tive in the world. Forlorn and hopeless I must wan-
der in search of rest, but find none. The worm that
never dies was gnawing upon my conscience, and the
fire of hell seemed to be burning in my bosom. This
weight and load of trouble was daily increasing, and it
seemed impossible for me to bear up under it much
longer. I had said but little to any person about it,
except to my wife, and she would make light of my
strange imaginations, as she termed them. I at last
conceived the horrid idea of ending my miserable life
on earth by an act of violence. I shuddered at the first
thought of taking this dreadful step. To commit
Rev. Johnson Olive. 113
suicide had always appeared foreign to my mind ;
but now the time had come when I must do something,
and under the circumstances which I was now placed
I could conceive of nothing better. I would reason
thus : It will be better for me, for the longer I live the
worse I shall get, and the sooner I find my destiny
the better it will be for me. In regard to my wife and
children, it would be better for them, as my past con-
duct would brand them forever as the wife and chil-
dren of the traitor. In regard to my relatives and
friends, it would save them from the stigma of ever
being connected with so vile a man as I conceived
myself to be; and as to the church, and the cause of
religion generally, it would be better for me to die a
suicide than to divulge these dreadful truths, which
would be handled by the enemies of religion against
the righteous. Upon mature reflection and consider-
ation I decided upon that course, believing it to be
the best thing I could do, under all the circumstances
taken together. In this way I would cut the story
short. I would be found dead ; the verdict would be,
" He committed suicide ; the cause unknown, but sup-
posed to be insanity." Thus I supposed the whole
matter would soon pass away ; my family, my friends
and brethren would all pass through it without being
materially injured thereby. It is true I dreaded the
horrid step, but as it was the best thing I could do un-
der the circumstances, I felt disposed to do it. I
formed my plan, chose my weapon, fixed the time and
place, and began to make arrangements to carry it
into execution. I was very careful and watchful in
il4 The Life and Times of
all my movements, for fear of being detected. I knew
if my family or friends even suspected such a thing
they would prevent it if they could. My time to do
this was at the dead hour of night; the place some
three quarters of a mile from the house; the weapon
to be used was a sharp knife, which I would use by
making one desperate rip across my throat. I was
conscious that nature would revolt, but I was equally
conscious that I could, by one prodigious effort, ex-
tinguish life; and as I had decided this thing cooly
and calmly, I was not to be turned from it by common
difficulties. The night came on which I was to com-
mit this deed. My purpose was to lie down early,
taking off my outer garments, and whenever my
family lay down, and were in sound sleep, I would
get up and gently put on my clothes, take my shoes
in my hand, and walk out softly in my socks, to pre-
vent any noise that would be likely--to wake any of
my family. At a late hour of the night I found all
were still, and appeared to be sleeping. I rose up as
easy as possible, and after putting on my vest, coat and
hat, I took my shoes in my hand and went out as
slyly as possible. When I got out I discovered it was
raining. I did not mind that at all. I put my shoes
on my feet, and as I rose up to leave the door this
impression was made on my mind : This is the last
time I shall ever go out at this door.
Now, it was as dark as well could be; I could
scarcely discern my hand ; I went to the gate to go
out of the yard ; opened it very softly, with my mind
drawn out in full force upon the dreadful subject
Rev. Johnson Olive. 115
which lay before me. No doubt imagination was play-
ing, for as I stepped out of the yard into the lane I
imagined that I saw the devil. The sight did not
terrify me in the least, for I expected to be with him
very soon any way. I shall not attempt to describe
his appearance on this occasion further than to say
he appeared to be very subtle, and a little above the
earth, and in a dancing motion. Unconscious to my-
self, I spoke above a whisper, and said: " Why don't
you come along and take me?" He replied, not by
words, but by a strong impression upon my mind: " I
cannot take you while you are in the body, but if you
will get out of the body I will take you." To which
I replied : " I will fix that matter very soon," and
started to my place.
After going about half way, I came to a road, and
as I stepped into the road I heard a strange noise — or
at least thought I did. I stopped and paused to
listen ; the noise appeared to be at my house, and
seemed to be the cries of my children, and the lamen-
tation of my wife. Those of you who have attended
a revival meeting, and left while the noise was going
on, and getting a short distance from the meeting and
stopped to listen, can form some idea how the noise
which I heard appeared to me. I felt sure that my
wife had waked up and looked for me, and I was gone.
I was also conscious that she suspected that I was gone
for the very purpose for which I had gone, and as
such she had aroused* the' children, and would soon
arouse the neighbors, when a general search would be
made for me. I soon thought that what I was going
116 The Life and Times of
to do must be done quickly, for they might find me
before I bad accomplished the deed. I started again
in a hurry, but only went some eighty or a hundred
yards when this thought rushed into my mind with
great force: Now, if you attempt to commit that hor-
rid deed w^ith this noise ringing in your ears, you will
make a failure, for you will only inflict a wound, and
not accomplish your design, and then you will never
have another opportunity. Your friends will confine
you, and deprive you of your weapons. You had bet-
ter hasten back to your family, and say to them that
you had occasion to go out, and got wet in a shower
of rain, and chide them for their noise and confusion.
To-morrow, or at some more favorable time, you will
have a better opportunity. I turned back, w^alked
some and ran some, I soon came to the house, but
was not a little surprised to find all asleep, and every-
thing as still as when I left. I was dripping wet w^ith
the rain, and in a poor fix. I took off my coat and
hat and built up a fire, intending to dry myself.
While I was doing so I thought to myself: What
could that noise have been which I heard so dis-
tinctly ? The answer to this inquiry was: It must
have been the geese, though I had never heard geese
make that strange noise before.
It appears to me now that I heard that noise, though
it might have been imagination. I was soon inclined
to try again, and was again defeated. I stole off from
my wife, but was soon pursued by her brother, who I
supposed was not in five miles of me. I could never
make the attempt; for before I could get to the place
Rev. Johnson Olive. 117
I would be intercepted ; something would frustrate all
my designs. My nerves seemed to weaken in every
failure until I came to the conclusion that although
God had given me up to the devil, yet He would not
suffer me to sneak out of the world in that way. It
was a dreadful thought, yet I preferred taking my own
life rather than be made a public example.
I will here state a little circumstance, by which I
was detected in this dreadful affair:
There was a lady, who had formerly lived in our
house, and who had often visited us after she was mar-
ried. She had heard that I was in low spirits, and
greatly troubled about something. She came to see
me, in order to break my study, as she said. She was
a fine woman, and very intimate with our family.
She proposed to have a close chat with me, and wished
me to tell her how I felt, as she believed that she had
been in the same situation that I was in then. I con-
sented to talk with her, and would tell her little by
little of my feelings, taking care to keep back the
main drift of my awful feelings ; but she kept probing
me till she got more than I intended she should in
the outset. It mattered not what I told her, she would
say, '' I have been so myself, and even worse, and I
got out of it, and I can tell you how to get out," At
last, being wearied with her inquisitiveness, I said :
" You have never gone as far as I have, for I have
been tempted to do so," (drawing my hand across my
throat.) She laughed at me, and said I need not be
alarmed at that, for that was nothing more than com-
mon with persons who had the blues ; that she had
118 The Life and Times of
gone further than I had; she had got the rope, and
started off to hang herself, and that she was now well
of it, and that I would soon be out of it;, just take her
advice, and all would be well.
I believed as much of what she had said as I pleased
and no more. But she had accomplished her object
in talking with me. She soon made known all that
she had found out. I was robbed of my knife and I
have never seen it since.
But I was busy in seeking another opportunity and
other means to accomplish the awful deed. I sought
for my razors, but they were gone; and all other
weapons that v/ould be likely to be sought for by me
were out of place. I was not disposed to enquire for
anything for fear of detection.
I stole off from my wife one day, intending to com-
mit the deed in some way, but had gone but a short
distance before I heard some one coming behind me.
I looked, and saw it was my wife's brother, looking for
me; I turned my course and met him, put on the best
appearance I could, and proposed to go to the house
with him, hoping he would soon go home, and then I
would have an opportunity of carrying out my design.
He did not leave that day, but stayed till next morn-
ing, and gave me some good counsel on leaving, but
never intimated to rae that he had any fears.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 119
CHAPTER X.
About this time I was getting so restless that my
family became uneasy, so much so that they sent for
my brother, Calvin Olive, and my brother-in-law, F.
W. Rogers, and wife, to come to see me, in order, as I
suppose, to determine what course should be taken
with me. I was not pleased with this step, taken by
my family without my consent or knowledge. But, as
it was done, I made the best of it I could. They all
came ; I tried to behave myself as well as I could, but
found it difficult on my part to remain long in their
presence. I had discovered for several days that my
load of trouble was growing upon me, and it n' w
seemed to fill me so fall that if I did not let it out by
way of telling it, I should burst. I had kept the dread-
ful thing wrapped up and concealed until it was bound
to come out, unless I could prevent it by death, which
I thought I would much prefer.
To tell all the meanness which I conceived to be in
me, and the sinful part which I had acted, was more
than I felt willing to do.
They tarried all night with me, and next morning
•I found myself worse than ever. It seemed to me that
I was full up to my neck. Mental pain was great.
I could not be still in any position. My brother and
brother in-law would stay with me; I found no chance
to get away from them. They took seats in the piazza,
and I employed myself for a short time in walking to
and fro across the floor. My mental agony and pain
120 The Life and Times of
was so great that I became nervous ; I was trembling in
my knees, and as I was pacing the floor this passage
of Scripture rushed into my mind : " Thou art weighed
in the balances, and art found waniing." Yes, thought
I, you are like Belshazzar ; you see your doom, and
your knees smite together. This came with such force
that I verily believed I should soon be in hell.
Breakfast being ready, we were invited to the table
to eat. I declined going, for I felt that I was already
too full, and did not believe that I could eat under
such a load of mental suffering. They insisted on my
going, and I objected, till they told me in plain terms
if I would not go neither would they ; so, in order to
get them to go, I went. I tried to eat a little, and I
think I drank one cup of cofiPee, and sat till they ate
what thev would, which was not much.
The time for me to burst was near at hand. I was
conscious that the whole thing had to come out, and
that soon, as I could hold it no longer. I felt that I
had smothered it in my bosom so long that when I
did give it vent there would be an explosion, and as I
did not wish to excite my wife and cliildren, I wished
to get some distance from the house, so that they might
not hear me, and thus become alarmed and cry. So,
as I rose from the breakfast table, I spoke to my
brother and brother-in-law, and asked them to take a
walk with me, to which they assented. I led the way,
and they followed ; but I was in a hurry and they
were not. I outwalked them. I would look back in
a manner to urge them on, but it seemed to do no
good, as they were determined to have their own time.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 121
They little knew what was coming, and coming so
soon.
After getting some one hundred yards from the
house (not one fourth the distance I wished to go,) and
I some twenty paces before them, I knew I could hold
in no longer, for I felt my mental resistance give way.
I turned back to meet them, and addressed myself to
my brother-in-law in substance as follows : " Squire, I
am the meanest man that ever made a track on God's
earth ; I have kept the thing concealed until I can
keep it no longer. Have you not seen what a desperate
situation I have been in all the morning? And now,
Squire, it is in me, and it has to come out." He tried
to chide me, and denied the truth of what I had said.
I replied : "Squire, you need not tell me this or that,
I know my doom. I have betrayed my Lord and
Master; I have murdered my wife and children; I am
worse than Judas; I am worse than Cain !"
They interrupted me again by saying it was not so,
and in order to prove it not so they proposed to go
with me to the house and show me that my wife and
children were all living, and that I had said that I
had murdered them. " Ah ! " said I, '' Squire, I have
not committed the overt act; I know that as well as
you do ; but I am just as guiity in the sight of God as
I should be if I had cut their throats, for ray conduct
has murdered them."
*' What have you done?" said the Squire.
" I have crucified the Son of God afresh, and put
Him to an open shame; I am worse than Judas, for
while it is true that Judas betrayed his Lord, he bad
6
122 The Life and Times of
no wife and children to ruin, that 1 know of, by his
dreadful sin. But I have; I am worse than Cain who
killed his brother ; but there were not so many to be
affected by his brutal act as there are in my case."
He asked me if I did really believe that I was worse
than Judas. I replied that I did, and gave some addi-
tional reasons for my thinking so. I told him that I
hated it as bad as he or any other person could hate
it, but it was a dreadful reality, and that I must abide
the awful consequences, I told him that the mark of
Cain was stamped upon me, and that I was compelled
to wear it wherever I went.
He asked me where that mark was. I told him to
look in my countenance and he would see it, for that
my countenance had fallen; that I could not look a
person straight in the face ; and that I felt meaner than
a sheep-killing dog.
He and my brother both concluded that I was de-
ranged, and asked me if I thought it would do to let
me go at large. I told them that I was not deranged,
but that I had more sense then than I had ever had
before.
They of course concluded that I was making a very
bad use of it, if it be as I had contended. I had made
some noise in speaking, for I spoke very loud and
pointed. I was heard by my wife's sister, who came
running to me with extended arms of love and affec-
tion. When she got to me she laid her arms on my
shoulders, her eyes streaming in tears, and in word
of kindness and in accents of love, she calmed my
turbulent spirit for a while. She overcome evil with
Rev. Johnson Olive. 123
good. I soon felt that I had now committed myself
openly to the world. I had spoken nothing but what
was true, but as everybody would now believe just as
I did, I should soon be destitute of friends, and that
even my own kindred and family would denounce me
as an ungrateful and wdcked wretch, I felt that I de-
served no mercy from God, no pity from kindred or
family, or sympathy from friends. I wished I had
kept it concealed a little longer ; but I had kept it as
long as I could.
My brother and brother-in-law held a cosultation as
to what should be done with me. They both agreed
that it would not do to let me stay alone, or go at
large; some one must be with me at all times. They
wanted to carry me to E-aleigh, in order that Dr.
Fisher might examine me, to see whether or not I was
insane. My brother approached me on this subject very
tenderly. I told him that it would do no good, for all
the men in the world could not alter my condition, as
it was not in the power of man to do it; that I was
under the irrevocable sentence of God, my doom was
sealed, and my destiny fixed. He contended that I
was mistaken, and that no one believed it to be so but
myself, and that it would give satisfaction to my rela-
tives and friends for me to go and see Dr. Fisher, if it
did no other good, and he hoped I would consent to
go. I then told him plainly that I should not consent
to go, and if carried at all it would be by force. He
said: "We hate to do that, but it will not do to let
you stay by yourself. If you will not go to see the
doctor you must go with me or Squire Rogers one."
124 The Life and Times of
I did not like that either; but if I must do one, I
preferred going with one of them.
So I left home to go with them. On our way we
vvere met by a dear uncle and aunt who had started to
my house to see me. I pleaded hard to return to my
house with them ; but they, seeing me so altered in
appearance, and learning more from my brother and
the Squire about the conversation I had with them
that morning, they began to persuade me to go home
with tiicm, and spend a few days.
As none of the company would listen to me about
going back, I finally consented to go with them, rather
than risk being carried to Raleigh. I had an utter
aversion to the idea of going to see Dr. Fisher. In
the first place, I had no doubt he would detect my
meanness, and expose me. If he did not, he would of
course pronounce me insane, and recommend my be-
ing left in the asylum. Furthermore, I believed then,
as I do now, that Dr. Fisher was a wise man,., and a
great physician, "but a thousand such men might have
examined me, and all come to the same conclusion,
and it could not have altered my feelings; and as such
would not have changed my mind. I was like a man
in the fire. I knew I was burning, (that is, I was suf-
fering the most excruciating mental pain), therefore it
was useless to tell me this or that, unless you could
help me out of the fire. My heart knew its own bit-
terness. My friends believed that something couW be
done by human power or human wisdom to relieve
me. I was altogether of a different opinion, and was
always free to tell them so. They would argue that
Rev. Johnson Olive. 125
nothing should be left untried. I consented to many
things, merely to give satisfaction to relatives and
friends, feeling, at the time, that it would be worse
than useless. In my own mind my true condition
was clear. Although I was not a downright hypocrite,
yet I was no better; for I had enjoyed sufficient light,
suitable means, tind ample time, to have made the cor-
rection, but had failed to do it. I would often say :
"Oh! that I had started right; but I caught the
shadow, and missed the substance. Oh ! that I had
heeded the first , warning, when I first fell into doubts
and fears and was told that it was the temptation of
the devil."
And thus I would follow my christian experience
down to my then present condition, and attribute every
doubt and fear as a warning from God, to induce me
to set about rectifying the mistake.
But in the face of all this light, and in defiance of
all these warnings, I had rushed heedlessly on, blind-
folded by the devil and led captive by him at his will.
I was now given over to a hard heart and a reprobacy
of mind to believe a lie and at last be damned. I had
crucified the Son of God afresh, and there remained
no more sacrifice for sin. My condition was deplora-
ble, and no way under the heavens to amend it. I
verily believed that I was undone both for time and
eternity. I would gladly have changed conditions
with any man on earth, no matter how low or mean,
in hopes thereby I might possibly escape the wrath of
God and gain heaven.
I have heard people say it was an easy matter to be-
126 The Life and Times of
lieve whatever one wished or desired to believe; but
in my case I found it to be quite different. I was
bound to believe just as I did believe, however unwel-
come to my troubled soul. I would have believed
there was no God, heaven or hell, but could not. I
knew that nothing short of the power of Deity could
inflict the pain I felt. I would have believed in the
doctrine of universal salvation, but found myself un-
able to do so. I would have believed in a purgatory,
where I might possibly pay the uttermost farthing,
and come out, but eternity stared me in the face, and
the unquenchable fire kindled in my bosom, and the
worm that never dies was already gnawing on the vi-
tals of my soul.
All this I felt, and fhe half is not told. And to
make my sufferings still more acute, I felt that I was
suffering justly ; that is, I believed that God was just,
•merciful and good, as He is represented in His Word,
and that I justh^ deserved all the pain and anguish
which I felt, and that I would feel, and would ac-
knowledge the justice of God in sending me to perdi-
tion, though I did not want to go there, neither did I
ever feel willing to go, only by stern necessity, in order
to prevent my sins becoming more aggrivated, which I
believed would augment my sufferings in hell. I
would have shunned hell at any time if I could. My
desire was to get out of the body, and if possible out of
existence; though I knew that rocks and mountains
could not hide me from the]All-seeingEyeof God, and
that I must appear at His bar to receive my doom.
I will now tell how I proceeded, after going home
Rev. Johnson Olive. 127
with my uncle. This was about the first of Novem-
ber, 18G0. I tried to put on the best appearance that
I could, and would have forgotten the past if possible,
but in spite 'of all my efforts I appeared and acted
quite differently from what I had formerly done. My
feelings underwent no change for the better. On
Saturday I went to a political meeting at Green Level,
Wake county. L. 0. B. Branch made a speech on the
state of the country, showing the critical position into
which the whole South was likely to be involved. I
recollect that he advocated the Breckinridge ticket.
Of course I took no interest in the meeting, nor in any-
thing that was said. I merely name this to show how
retentive my memory is of all that occurred in connec-
tion with that dark period of my history. A great
many of my friends and brethren were there, and they
seemed anxious to talk with me, but I felt ashamed to
meet them, or to speak to them. Some of them ques-
tioned me very closely as to the cause of my being in
that condition. I told them that I had yielded to the
influence of an evil spirit, and that I was now unable
to extricate myself from his dominion. They would
quote scripture to me as the flesh warring against the
spirit, and, 0, wretched man that I am, who shall de-
liver me from the body of this death. But it did me
no good, as T could claim no promise, either direct or
implied.
I returned that evening with my uncle to his house.
After a short time another one of ray uncles, Dempsey
Johnson, came to see me. He was on his way home,
and called to see me, and invited me home with him.
128 The Life and Times of
After a short conversation with him he said I must
come to see him before I returned home, for that he
was going to get me out of that bad state in which I
was involved. I replied : "Uncle Dempsey, you can-
not do it; I wish you could." He replied: "Yes I can.
Did you ever know me to undertake anything and not
go through with it?"
On the next day, being Sunday, a great many of my
relatives, friends and brethren came to my uncle's to
see me. I was in a poor situation to meet them, and
ill prepared to talk with them. If I told them what
I conceived to be my true state it would shock them,
and if I told them a lie it would" only make my case
worse. I therefore concluded to say as little as possi-
ble to any of them. They would, however, continue
to urge me to talk, and that in various ways. Some
of them would take me out privately, and by close and
pertinent questions insist on my answering them, to
which I generally acceded. Others would ask ques-
tions, and without waiting for me to answer them,
would try to help me by answering themselves, as they
would have it to be. I generally denied such answers
to be true. There were one or two preachers among
those who came to see me on that day, and they in-
sisted on my going forward in preaching, as the best
and surest way to get rid of my bad feelings; and all
agreed that I ought to make the attempt. They had
conversed with me, and heard my answers to all their
interrogations, and could discover no defect in my
judgment, memory, or reason. Indeed, they said there
was no deficiency to be discovered in my mind, only
Rev. Johnson Olive. 129
a depression of spirit. I would not consent to make
the attempt, for I was aware that they little knew my
situation, or how miserable I felt. I had just seen, in
a shadow, what awaited me at the judgment seat of
God. The Christians had flocked in scores to see me.
They were right; I was wrong. They were justified;
I was condemned ; they would be saved ; but I would
be lost; they would enter heaven, but I would sink to
hell. There were some there whom I baptized, others
whom I had joined in matrimoHy ; and nearly all had
been present at different times, when the Holy Sacra-
ment was administered by me.
These things had been revolving through my mind
during all that day. I felt that if I should attempt
to preach under the circumstances which then sur-
rounded me, I would be guilty of one of the most
heinous sins which it was possible for me to commit.
I believed it would be more aggravating in the sight of
God than suicide. It appeared to me that I would sin
presumptuously. It would be nothing less than using
deception, and trying to make my brethren, and all
who might hear me, believe a lie. I would not have
consented to preach with all these things pressing
upon my mind for my firll weight in gold. Nothing
short of an assurance of faith to believe that the at-
tempt would be the means of lifting me out of my un-
happy condition would have induced me to try to
preach ; yet I was ofttimes and repeatedly persuaded to
do it by my best friends. I did not doubt the purity
of their motives then, neither do I now.
Seeing all their attempts fail to induce me to con-
130 The Life and Times of
sent to try to preach, they had recourse to another ex- m
pedient, which was, to get my consent to go to meet-
ing. I at first refused, knowing, as I did, that it would
bring up my former ministry and everything con-
nected with it fresh in my memory. I believed that I
would appear and feel like the man without the wed-
ding garment. But after long and hard persuasion I
consented-to go, by being assured that I should not be '
urged to take any part in the public exercises of the
meeting. The meeting was at Olive's Chapel, brotiier
J. C. Wilson to be the preacher. A very large con-
gregation assembled. I was of opinion that they came
more out of curiosity to see me than to hear preach-
ing, as it had been published that I would be there.
Now, this church had been built near where I had
been raised, and almost in sight of my former resi-
dence, where myself and family had lived some
eighteen or twenty years. I was in the midst of my
relatives, friends, neighbors and brethren, all anxious
to see me, and, if possible, aid in setting me right
again. *
" I shall never be able to describe ray feelings on that
occasion. No one knew what was passing through my
mind, but my own heart knew its ow^ bitterness.
The preacher came, and with him a great many of the
members of Shady Grove church, where my member-
ship was, and had been from my first connection with
the Church of God. The preacher, who was my own
dear cousin, invited me to go with him into the stand,
where I bad stood for years and preached to the people ;
but oh ! with what different feelings from whaf^I now
Rev. Johnson Olive. 131
had. I begged to be excused ; but by his importunity I
finally consented to sit in the stand while he preached.
We went into the pulpit together. I took my seat, and
he very soon rose to commence the services. I felt just
like I was where I ought not to be. I thought that I
would have given the world, if it had been at my dis-
posal, to be as good a man as cousin J. C. Wilson, who
then stood before me. I thought of the time when
Christ and His disciples were partaking of the pass-
over supper, and when our Saviour said : " One of
you shall betray me," and when the beloved disciple
asked who it was. I felt that I was a second Judas,
and that cousin John was another beloved disciple.
I tried to use some words of prayer asking God to
change me from Judas to John, but I had neither the
spirit nor the faith of^prayer.
After singing and prayer, cousin John introduced
his text from Matthew, 7th chapter, 24th to the 27th
verses inclusive. The subject was the wise man and
the fool. The wise man built his house on the rock,
but the foolish man built his house on the sand. He
had selected this text on purpose to establish me on
the sure foundation of the Christian religion, and to
show that none of the storms or tempests of>life would
ever be able to demolish the Christian's edifice. That
no circumstance, or combination of circumstances, nor
any other power, would ever be able to separate us
from the love of Christ.
The preacher took up the most of his time on the
first part of his subject, the wise man and his house,
and its sure foundation. I would frequently use the
132 The Life and Times of
words of an ejaculatory prayer in a whisper; but, as
before stated, I was destitute of both the spirit and
faith of prayer. In fact, I had examined this pass-
age of Scripture before, in regard to my awful condi-
tion, when I was seeking for the cause which had pro-
duced the sad effect; and I had found here ray folly
in building on the sand, as I had found it when I
caught the shadow ard missed the substance. I had
seen- in imagination, and as I thought by an eye of
faith, that the sand was giving way, and my house was
careening, and that all my efiForts to prop it or brace it
up would prove unavailing and useless, as it was bound
to fall, in spite of all the efforts of man to prevent it.
While Brother Wilson was preaching, the whole
subject seemed more clear and visible to my mind
than ever before. I-lost all the former part of his dis-
course, for it was clear to my mind that I had not built
my house on the rock ; therefore I could claim none
of the promises, and T was not an heir of the promise.
When he took up the last part of his subject, (the
foolish man who built his house on the sand,) my con-
science said : " Thou art the man !" Every word
fitted my case; every sentence was truth, though un-
welcome truth to me; for I saw my folly and* my
dreadful doom ; and great would be my fall. I wished
that I had not come to meeting; for I felt that I was
worse than the man who commenced building without
counting the cost, and wa's not able to finish, when all
who saw it began to mock or laugh, saying : "This
man began to build, but was not able to finish." [
would think of getting up and making a public con-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 133
fession that I was the man who had built his house
on the sand, but that would do no good, for they would
be unable to help me; it would also be unpleasant to
my friends ; so I kept my seat till the sermon was fin-
ished and the congregation dismissed. I would have
gladly disappeared, by going out through the wall, or
under the stand, or in any other way which would
have prevented me from being seen. But there was
no way for me except to face the crowd. Hopeless
despair had laid fast hold upon me. I felt more mis-
erable, if possible, than I had ever felt before. I came
down from the stand into the aisle of the church with
the most dejected countenance you ever saw, where I
was met by the female members of the church — loving
mothers and sisters in Israel. They were hoping that
the sermon had set all things right with me. Their
pleasant smiles and sweet voices, while greeting me
with a hearty shake of the hand, spoke volumes; but
failed to give my poor heart any relief. They were
filled with sympathy, and would have gladly raised
their gentle hands to brush the heavy load from off
my mind, which they saw too plainly was crushing
me down. But my sufferings were of such a nature
that I was perfectly conscious no human power could
relieve me. I made my way through the aisle and
out at the door as soon as I well could, feeling, as I
supposed, like Judas did when he received the sop and
went out.
Things had gone too far, and my guilt was made
too plain, to think of trying to make any amendments
for the past, or any preparation for the future. And
134 The Life and Times of
this passage of Scripture flashed through my mind :
" What thou doest, do quickly," and I felt if I had au
opportunity I would do as Judas did, and go to my
own place.
As I came put of the house and started off, several
of the brethren followed me. When we had gone a
short distance I began to make my confessions. I
told them that I had started wrong ; that I had caught
the shadow and missed the substance ; had built my
house upon the sand, ^id npt upon the rock, and now
I saw my folly. My house was falling, and no way
under the heavens to prevenf it. They a^ed me why
I did not take the first part of the sermon, and said I
ought to have done so, as it was intended for me. I
told them that the preacher had pointed out my doom
in the latter part of his discourse, and I was bound to
submit to it. They asked me if I thought the preacher
had given a true exposition of the text. I replied
that I did, but that it was so much the worse for me,
as I was on a sandy foundation. They asked me if I
did not think a man should not speak the truth. I
answered, "Yes; if he preaches at all, he sho»ld
speak the truth." I then told them that I was not find-
ing fault of the sermon at all, but that the truth was
what hurt, when it fell upon a guilty mind. I fur-
thermore told them that I regretted my condition as
much as any of them could regret it, but that it was
a dreadful reality, and could not be otherwise. Some
of them remarked that if I had no religion there was
no such thing as religion in the world. " Yes," said
^ Rev. Johnson Olive. 135
another, " I heard a good brother say the other day
if you did not possess the grace of God it would be
useless to look for it in any other man."
I well understood that their object was to try to en-
courage me to lay hold on the hope set before me ; but
I was divested of all Uppe and faith so far as I could
discover, and as such they found nothing in me upon
which •the}' could operate. Some of them proposed
to bring me a pen and ink, to see if I would blot out
the whole concern of the Christian religion. I then
told them that I had no doubts upon the reality of
the Christian religion; I believed the Bible to be a
rev.elation from God to man as honestly and as firmly
as i ever did, and that this way that some had of
measuring thei» religion by other men's religion was
contrary to scripture and reason ; that I was not the
standard by which they would be tried, but that all
would be tried by the Word of God. I had been tried
myself by that standard, and found that I was want-
ing ; that I had. never taught that men should believe
in me or any otherman, but if men would stumble over
me and fall into hell I could not help it.
This was about the substance of our conversation
that evening. The crowd dispersed, and I returned to
my uncle's. My situation was no better. The state
of my mind was rather growing worse. I had but
little to say to any one, only to answer such questions
as they proposed to me, and of that I soon became
weary.
136 _ The Life and Times of
CHAPTER XL
In a day or two I left my uncle Daniel's and went
over to my uncle Dempsey Thompson's, and after stay-
ing with him a few days, he made arrangements for
me to return home. I was not permitted to travel
alone, or left alone anywhere, except for a very short
time.
When I arrived home I felt glad to see my wife and
children for a few minutes. But I soon became rest-
less. My agony of mind was so great that nothing
was of much satisfaction to me. My mental torture
seemed to increase daily, so much so that I would
think every day would be my last. I would fre-
quently tell my wife and some other intimate friends
that I could not survive another day under the heavy
load which was pressing me down. I had sought
death, but could not find it. It now appeared to me
that I was constantly sufiPering the agonies of a sin-
ner's death without being permitted to expire.
My father-in-law, Alsey Hunter, was lying at the
point of death when I left to go home with my uncle
and aunt some week ago, and about this time he died.
Brother P. W. Dowd was called on to preach his
funeral. My uncle Dempsey Johnson carried me to
the funeral — or rather, went with me. I felt awful.
After my father-in-law was buried brother Dowd
sought an interview with me. He asked me several
questions, and tried to console me by saying: " Every-
body is concerned about you, and the christians are
all praying for you;" and said that some of the
Rev. Johnson Olive. * 137
churches were uniting in special prayer for me, and
tliat he thought I would soon be all right. I told him
some of my awful feelings. He said to me: "You
have never thought about taking your own life, have
you?" I told him that I had. He replied: "That
is horrid, brother Olive. Don't let such a thought
come into your mind ; it is wicked and sinful."
After giving me some good advice, which I was not
prepared to reduce to practice, we parted.
I was passing home and back again to my uncle's,
or with some of my relatives, for some two or three
weeks. During this time I was getting no better, but
things were hastening to a more fearful crisis. I was
frequently urged to go and see Dr. Fisher. I had
thought that I never would go, unless I was forced
to do so by arbitrary power; but words of kindness,
pursuasive arguments and fair promises, induced me,
for the sake of others, to go. I had no idea that it
would do me any good. I dreaded Dr. Fisher, for I
believed h€ would either pronounce me a hypocrite or
insane, 'and I should be deprived of my liberties.
Thomas J. Hunter, J. W. Rogers and wife, and my
own dear wife, all united in persuading me to go.
After getting my consent, T. J. Hunter, my brother-
in-law, was to go with me. We started in a buggy;
we had gone but a short distance when I repented my
bargain. I jumped out of the buggy and started
back. He sat still, and by kind words and fair prom-
ises that he would certainly bring me back again, I
went back to him.
When we had gone some two-thirds of the distance
138 The Life and Times of
my heart failed again. I jumped out again, and told
him he might go if he choose to do so, but that I
should not. He kept his seat, as before, and by kind
words and fair speeches, he brought me to terms again.
He was a noble- hearted man.
We went on to Raleigh that night, and stayed with
Mr. Eldridge Smith. When we arrived there we found
my brother-in-law, J. W. Rogers, and wife, were also
there. I was sure that there was some preconcerted
plan on foot in regard to my case. A thousand
thoughts revolved through my mind. I began to
doubt the sincerity of my dearest friends, for they had
promised to bring me back to my family in order to
induce me to consent to go; but now everything
seemed to indicate that they intended to get me into
the asylum. I would rather have died than go there,
and I thought if I had an instrument of death I would
use it. But as I had none, and no chance to get any,
I must abide the consequences.
Next morning my friends asked me if I would go
with them to the asylum to see Dr. Fisher. I told
them no, not by my consent. They then asked me if
I was willing that the doctor should come and see me
where I was. I told them it would do no good. But
they insisted that he must see me some how, and ^ave
me my choice, to goto see him or have him invited to
come and see me where I was. I replied that if I must
see him I would rather he would come to me, as I
should never consent to go to him.
They then left me at Mr. Smith's and in a short
time returned with Dr. Fisher. I was invited to go
Rev. Johnson Olive. 139
into the parlor, aud in a few minutes the doctor and
my brothers-in-law, Rogers, Hunter and Smith, came
in. I was introduced to the doctor immediately, after
which he commenced conversation with me. He asked
me a great many questions relative to where I lived,
my age, the number of my children, my occupation,
&c. He also interrogated me in regard to my habits
of living; whether I used tobacco or drank spirits, &c.
I told him that I used tobacco, both by chewing and
smoking, but as to spirits, I never used it except as a
medicine, in sickness. He then asked me about my
health ; said I was looking well, but that he had heard
that I was ailing, and wished me to tell him what was
amiss with me. I told him I was troubled in mind,
and had been for some time. He asked me upon what
subject I was troubled. I replied : *' Upon the subject
of religion." He asked me the cause which had pro-
duced that distress of mind, and I replied to him, as I
had replied to others, that I supposed it was the devil.
He asked me if I supposed the devil had power to
force men to sin, (as I had just told him that I feared
I had committed the unpardonable sin). I told him
that I had not been in the habit of thinking so. He
asked me what I thought about it now. I told him
that the devil was very subtle and cunning, for the
Scripture said that he could transform himself into an
angel of light and that he had deceived and misled
many. The doctor then said that he was no theolo-
gian, and that I had better talk with some old minis-
ter of the Gospel about these things. He then asked me ,
some questions about how long I had been preaching,
140 The Life and Times op
and whether I had acted honest and sincere in my
professions and ministrations, and what were my views
and feelings about these things now. I told him
that while I had been engaged in these -things I
felt that I was honest, and that I had acted with a
conscience void of offence both towards God and man ;
but now things appeared differently.
He then asked me if I did not feel interested in my
familv. I told him no ; not as I had done. He said
I ought to feel interested in them, for that a man's
first duty was to take care of his family if he had one,
I confessed the truth of what he said, but told him that
it was not the case with me, for that I only felt to wish
them well, but that I was doing nothing for their
welfare.
He then asked me if I knew how to work. I told
him that I did, for that I was raised to work. He then
asked me if I worked when I was at home. I replied:
Not of late, for that I felt so wretched that I took no
interest in anything. He asked me if I owned land.
I told him that I did, but that it was not paid for.
He then told me that he would advise me what course
he thought I had best pursue, which was to go home
and go to work for my family ; to relinquish all
thoughts about preaching for the present, for that I
was unfit to perform any pastoral duties in my present
condition. He also said I must quit the use of to-
bacco — neither chew or smoke — and as a substitute to
get some good whiskey and make some bitters and
take two or three drams of that each day, and in two
weeks come back and report to him. I made no reply.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 141
He asked me if I would do it. I then replied that I
did not know whether I would or not, as I did not
know how I should feel at that time. He said I must
do it, and repeated his advice again, and said : " Will
you do it?" I hesitated to answer, for I was then de-
termined not to do it, and in particular not to come
back in two weeks, for I was of opinion that they were
making arrangements to get me into the asylum. He
again insisted on an answer, and said I must come.
I told him that. I did not know where I should be, or
how it would be with me two weeks hence.
I gave him no promise to report back. The truth
is, things were not working to my notion, and I ex-
pected to be dead and in hell before two weeks, but I
dare not say so then.
The doctor and my brothers-in-law then went out
of the room and held a short consultation, and mv
mind was filled with imaginations. My feelings were
wrought up to the highest pitch, and withall I was a
little angry, for I believed that they had detected
some of my meanness, and were about to take me off
whether I consented or not.
They soon returned, and the doctor repeated over
his advice, and said I must do as he had directed, for
that he had discovered that I was not a deranged man.
I replied that I knew that as well as he did, but that
I was laboring under some disordered state of the mind.
He looked at me with a very stern and rigid counte-
nance, and said it was a corrupted state of the heart,
and left me, with a request that I should come to see
him in two weeks.
142 The Life and Times of
Thus ended my interview with Dr. Fisher. I felt
that he had detected enough about me to believe that
I was a hypocrite, and had been a devil from the be-
ginning. I knew that I could not avoid my condition,
and although I considered myself the vilest wretch on
God's earth, yet I could not help feeling offended with
the doctor for telling me that it was a corrupted state
of the heart, I believed that it would now be pub-
lished from Dan to Bersheba, and that my name and
family would become infamous, and go do"wn to pos-
terity with everlasting contempt. As to my own part,
I cared but little, but the thing which I had feared for
weeks and months was now at hand ; that is, my con-
duct would disgrace my famJly and bring a reproach
upon everything good with which I was connected.
In reflecting on my interview with Dr. Fisher, I
now believe that he was like all my other friends,
prompted by the purest of motives in all that he done
and said. I entertain a very high opinion of him,
and feel under many obligations to him for conde-
scending to meet me at the house of my brother-in-
law, E. Smith.
I think that I have given the substance of the con-
versation between Dr. Fisher and myself. If I have
stated anyttiing incorrectly, it is an error of the head
and not of the heart.
My friends and relatives were now making every
effort to relieve me, if possible, from the unhappy con-
dition in which I found myself placed. They had
made arrangements for my uncle Dempsey Johnson,
brother to my mother, to take me under his care and
Rev. Johnson Olive. 143
supervision. I bad always had a great affection for
him, and be had been my strong and steady friend.
I would talk with him more freely than with any
other person. He asked me many questiobs, and from
what I had told him in the commencement of my dis-
satisfaction in regard to my home, he was led to be-
lieve that if I could be taken from my present loca-
tien and carried back in the midst of my relatives
and former neighbors, it would have the happy effect
of relieving me of my troubles of mind. (I will re-
mark here that soon after I discovered something amiss
in my mind I became dissatisfied with my home, and
felt that I had made a bad bargain in buying this
place. I felt that it was undesirable, and wished I
had never come here, for it appeared that everything
was badly arranged and ill contrived, and was fast
going to wreck and ruin. I made some attempt to
sell or change my home for one that I thought would
suit me better. And from my conversation with him
and others about that time, they had come to the con-
clusion that it was owing to my being dissatisfied with
my home which had produced my unhappy state of
mind. I came to the same conclusion myself for a
time, but did not continue in that notion long.) But
being pressed hard to try the experiment by leaving
my present home and locality, and remove back to
my old neighborhpod, I consented to do so.
During the interval while things were being made
ready for my removal, I was growing worse daily, and
my uncle visited me often, and would take me home
with him occasionally.
144 The Life and Times of
Thus, before the time arrived for me to move, I had
seen and felt enough to be convinced that the cause of
my uneasiness of mind was not in my home, or any
other external thing; for I found that change of place
did not change the state of my mind. My friends had
made the necessary arrangements in providing a home
for me and my family near where I was raised, and in
the midst of my brothers and sisters, and near to my
mother: also where I would be surrounded by long
and tried friends and neighbors. No pains had been
spared on their part to make my new home pleasant
and comfortable when 1 should get there. They had
also employed a man to take possession of my present
home, and work the farm on shares.
I was getting worse, and felt that another awful crisis
was rapidly approaching. I regretted very much that I
had ever consented to leave my present home. I felt
sure that all the trouble and expense of fixing up and
moving would be in vain, for the reason that it would do
no good, and that the burden would fall heavy on my
best friends. I believed, as I had for some time, that
I was undone for time and eternity, and often wished
that I had ended my present life when I made the at-
tempt. My uncle would use all the arguments that
he could think of in order to inspire faith and hope
in me. He would tell me that when I got up there I
would soon be all right, and then I would resume ray
calling, and go on in the discharge of my ministerial
duties as I had formerly done. A day or two before I
was to move my uncle came down to see me, I had
been thinking that day that I would make another
Rev. Johnson Olive. 145
effort to break the chord of life. I dreaded to see my
uncle. I knew he had his plan arranged, and would
be sure to carry it out if within the limits of his power.
I felt equally sure that after all which might or could
be done, I must sooner or later die a dreadful death ;
and as I had no hope of amendment, I felt the tempting
suggestion of the enemy which I had so often felt be-
fore : " What thou doest, do quickly."
But I failed, as I had done before. I went home with
my uncle, and stayed all night w4th him, and next
morning I began to dissuade him from carrying on his
plan any further. I insisted that he stop all his
concern about moving me up to the place which had
been provided for me, and to let me return home and
stay there as long as I could. I told him that it would
be the worst step which could be taken, as it would do
no good to any person and prove injurious to many,
and that I should consider myself the cause of all the
evil which must result from the same. My uncle
would not consent to stop short of a trial. He said
the arrangements were all made, and that the plan
must be carried out. On that day the wagons were to
come down to my house in order to move me. The
sale at my father-in-law's, Alsa Hunter, was now on
hand. My wife was there. I had stayed with brother
P. W. Dowd one night. Went home with him from
the gale. He tried hard to inspire me with hope and
faith ; but all" in vain. I felt perfectly dead to all
spiritual things. My feelings were awful while I was
with him. Reflection on the past brought fresh in my
memory the many pleasant and happy hours and
7
146 The Life and Times of
days which I had enjoyed in his company while I was
a member of his family; but now all these things
were departed, never to return. I thought of the
great gulf between Dives and Lazarus, and I felt like
the same gulf was between me and heaven, and sub-
stantially between all Christians and myself. My
uncle came home with me from the sale, and the
wagons were there, in order to take me and my family
to our new home next day. I spent a miserable night.
I slept but little, and felt that I would rather die than
leave. I would throw myself on the bed and remain
awhile, and then get up and walk; but found no rest
to my troubled soul. When the time arrived for me
to start I refused to go. But being persuaded by my
best friends, and knowing that my wife and children
would be carried whether I consented or not, I finally
consented to go. T went to the sale, and there joined
my wife in the journey to our new home. I told her
that we had done wrong in giving^ our consent to go;
but she said that she hoped it would be for the best ;
that her faith was strong. I replied that I was glad
that her faith was strong, but that I felt as bad as if I
were going to the gallows, and was conscious that it
would do me no good. She replied that the step which
she had taken had been recommended by my relatives
and friends, and that she was willing to do anything
which would contribute to my interest. The wagons
had gone on with our plunder, and I and my wife
went up in my buggy. When we arrived, my friends
and relatives had arranged things in a very comfort-
able manner, but the effect on^my mind was anything
Rev. Johnson Olive. 147
but pleasant: for I felt that it was all labor and ex-
pense for no profit. I viewed the whole procedure as
ruinous to my family, and felt that I was the cause of
all the. unhappy consequences which must result from
the same. My mental pain became more intense, and
the tortures of my mind were intolerable.
My friends now began to advise with me, and use
every exertion which lay within their power to set me
right. Every neighbor and friend became a preacher
to me; and while I doubted not their sincerity and
purpose, the purity of their motives, or the truthful-
ness of their teachings, I had not faith to believe, and,
as such, it profited me nothing. I shall never forget
the great and mighty efforts made by some of my
friends to raise me out of that dark and gloomy pit
into which I had fallen. Dempsey Johnson and A. C.
Richardson seemed to take the deepest interest in the
matter; and I fear they will never be able to preach
to others with such power and energy as they did to
me; if they should, I feel certain that their preaching
will have a better effect on others than it did on me;
for I was as the nether-millstone— no faith, no hope,
in short they found nothing in me upon which they
could operate.
Being now at my new home, I felt that I was sur-
rounded with former friends and comforters, but I was
not to them what I had been, neither could they be to
me what they oiice were. I was unfit for any social
communication, I would rather be alone, and would
seek every opportunity to leave company, to mood
and grieve over my awful doom. At times I would
148 The Life and Times of
feel a little irritated, and like Israel of old, I would
murmur "against Moses and against God." That is,
I would endeavor to attach blame to somebody be-
"sides myself. I would think why it was that I was
suffered to go on under delusion till things had
reached such an awful crisis. Why had not chris-
tians instructed me moire faithfully and clearly in re-
gard to those things? A.nd Vvhy had God not made
known the delusion in time for me to make amends?
But after maturing the subject in my mind I would
come to the inevitable conclusion that I alone was
guilty of all the evil which had come upon me, and
that I must confess God to be just in my damnation,
though I was unwilling to receive justice, for I never
did feel willir>g to go to hell ; yet I believed that I
should go there, and that God would be just in send-
ing me to destruction. I told some of my friends about
this time that I was not willing for justice to take
place, and as such I was not a just man. They de-
manded of me to point to one dishonest act of my life,
as it was something that no other man had ever dis-
covered. I replied that so far as my dealings with my
fellow men were concerned, that I had always tried to
act on the principle of truth and justice; but being
deceived myself by the devil I had used deception to
others, and as such I now found that I was unwilling
to submit to justice.
I moved to my new home in the latter part of the
year 1860. I had been there only a short time before
I became so desperate in my words and actions, which
proved an index to the state of njy mind, that my
Rev. Johnson Olive. 149
uncle came down and took me home with him. He
had concluded (and justly too), that he could do more
with me than any other person. I had been in the
habit of leaving every other person but him in order
to get away to myself or rather to be alone. My
friends had objected to this, and called it running
away from them, but I had other 'reasons for it which
I had not made public. My uncle would say : " He
will not ruii away from me; I will take him home
with me." He knew not what was going on in my
mind, for it was a dreadful state of things there, and
likely to be worse. The truth is, after giving in to the
temptation to -take my own life, and failing to do it,
and repeating the effort several times, I came to the
conclusion that God would not suffer me to sneak out
of the world in that way. I must therefore find out
some other way. My mind was daily occupied in
seeking for the way and means by which that thing
fnust be accomplished. Now, as I considered the devil
to be my master, and I his slave, I must needs look to
him for advice in this difficult matter. I am almost
ashamed to confess it but it is nevertheless true, that I
felt that I was given up 'of God and in the hands of
the devil, to be tormented by him in life and to be
punished in hell by him throughout eternity. I was
thus like one tied hand and foot and unable to help
myself. I told a dear friend one day that I would like
to change masters, for that I had a hard one, and
found myself unable to throw off his yoke. Being
thus, under the influence of the wicked one, he sug-
gested to my mind that the way in which God had
150 The Life and Times of
designed for me to get out of the world was that I
should murder some person, and then the laws of the
laud would take hold of me, and I would be publicly
executed, and in this way God would vindicate His
honor and His Word ; for that His Word did say :
"There is nothing covered that shall not be revealed,
neither hid that shall not be known."
I did not approve of this way of getting out of the
world. There was not a person on earth whom I
would be willing to kill except myself. I entertained
no hatred or malice against any human being. But
the tempter said that was the way, and that stern ne-
cessity would compel me to do it. I tried to throw
away all such thoughts, knowing, as I did, that they
came from the wicked one. But in spite of all my ef-
forts these thoughts and suggestions would return
with double force, until I believed that I should have
to do the very thing which I had detested and revolted
at in the outset. My reason, my understanding and
my better judgment taught me^that it was wrong; but
then I was bound to do it, and as before, the sooner the
better.
I now began to think who it should be that I must
kill, and strange to tell, it must be those who were
nearest to me. First my dear and harmless wife — a
part of myself — or my dear innocent children, who were
parts of myself — bone of my bone, and flesh of my
flesh. The thoughts of taking any of their lives would
shock me, so that when these temptations came strongly
upon me, I would leave in order to avoid doing mis-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 151
chief. I dared not tell this to ray friends, for I knew
they would take mo to the Asylum. I did, however,
intimate the fact to my wife and some few others after
I could keep it concealed no longer. I was now with
my uncle, and I was conscious that the time was near
at hand when the awful crisis would come to a head.
About this time I began to think that Dempsey
Johnson was the man who was to be murdered by me.
The thoughts of taking his life seemed more than I
could bear. To take the life of the man who had
always befriended me, and had stood up to me like a
father in every time of need, and had now imperiled
his own life to save me, if possible, from disgrace and
degradation. How could I bear the thought of killing
so good a man as my uncle Dempsey — vile wretch as
I conceived myself to be? The deed was too horrible
for me. The tempter said it was not so bad as what
I had already done, for that I had crucified the Son of
God afresh and put Him to open shame, and that I
need not be thus straining at a gnat and swallowing a
camel; for Dempsey Johnson was nothing to com-
pare with the Saviour of the world. I believed what
the devil said, but was unwilling to commit the deed —
the bloody deed of murdering my uncle. If I had
murdered the Greatest of All, it did not follow that I
would be justifiable in murdering the least.
But as these thoughts would intrude in spite of all
my efforts to prevent them, the impression grew upon
my mind that under the influence of the strong temp-
tation of the devil I would be impelled to commit the
horrid deed of murdering my uncle. I sometimes
152 The Life and Times of
thought that under the influence of those endearing
ties which bind kindred hearts together my uncle had
sinned and become a partaker of my dark deeds, and
that God would so order it that he would die by the
hands of the criminal he was trying to save.
In meditating on this dreadful subject my imagina-
tion was drawn out on the awful scene which would
be witnessed after the perpetration of this bloody deed.
I could see my dear old uncle weltering in his blood,
which was shed by my wicked hands; the inquest
held over his body, his family and friends weeping
and mourning around ; myself brought forward to
answer to the charge, and I stood guilty, trembling
and speechless. All this and much more would pass
before the eye of the mind in the awful picture which
my imagination drew of so great a crime. 1 there-
fore made up my mind to do what I had promised
never to do, which was to run away from my uncle.
I left him, and went off and hid myself. My uncle
soon set out to look for me ; when he found me he
said : " I thought you never would run away from me.
I do not want you to do so any more. What makes
you do so anyhow?" I told him that I felt it was
best; but he insisted that I should never do so any
more, and gently reproved me.
I returned with him to the house, but it was not
long before I left him again, and he looked me up
again. I know not how often I pursued the same
course, and he the same course in looking me up.
I recollect on one occasion, when I went off early in
the morning, it was some time before he found me. I
Rev. Johnson Olive. 153
was lying down on the ground ; be came to me and
raised me up, the turbulent passion was still on me,
and I insisted that be should let me alone; but be
took me by the arm and bade me arise and go with
him to the house. I then told him that he had better
let me alone, and drew back from him, as though I
would break his hold on me. He reproved me, and
said : *' Come on, and let us go to the house." I again
said : " Uncle Dempsey, you had better let me alone."
He replied : " I am not afraid of you." I said : " You
had better be." He contended that he was not, and I
thought and contended that he had better be. He
urged me to go, and I resisted, until he pulled me on
a short distance, when I felt such a strong spirit of re-
sistance that I seized hold of him and shook him with
all my might, saying : " You had better let me alone."
My uncle stormed out at me saying: " What do you
mean ? You had better behave yourself, or I will
make my servants tie you, and we will take you to
to the asylum."
After a little parley we went into the house. He
seated me beside the fire and went out a few minutes,
and then returned. He then took his seat close be-
side me, and asked me what I meant by laying hold
of him, and shaking him as I did out yonder. I told
him that I meant what I said — he had better let me
alone. He said ; " You had no idea of hurting me,
did you ?" I told him that if I had had a weapon I
thought I should have used it. He replied : " No you
would not." I said I reckon I should. He then
opened his shirt collar and held his head and neck
154 The Life and Times of
close to me, and asked me if I had a razor in my hand
if I would use it on him. I viewed this conduct of
my uncle as a dare, and it roused up my turbulent
feelings in an instant. I replied to him: "Yes, I
should cut your throat." He said I would not, but I
contended that I would, till he changed his manner
and tone of voice. He drew back from me and said,
in a very pitiful tone of voice : " Is it not monstrous
that you will do so — want to kill your old uncle, who
has done so much for you— more than anybody else,
except your father and mother. Johnson, did I ever
think you would come to this? What do you want to
kill me for — what have I done?"
By this time kind words and gentle means had done
the work for me. I burst into cries and tears and
said : " No, uncle Dempsey, I won't do it ; I won't do
it." Ten minutes before I thought and said I would,
but now I would not for the world.
In thinking and reflecting on this particular period
of my life I have come to the conclusion that I was
under the influence of the wicked one, and at times
he came on me with more force than usual ; and
whether he took seven other spirits with him or not,
he put forth all the power that he had to induce me
to act out the temptation presented. These aberrations
of mind caused me to fear in my better moments of
reflection that I should do mischief if I continued in
company while these were upon me. I therefore gen-
erally left when I felt them come on, if not prevented.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 155
y
/ CHAPTER XII
These were the only times that I ever thought of
doing immediate mischief, and the only times that I
now consider that I was dangerous to any person. No
person could know when these aberrations were com-
ing on, only by my movements. I became restless,
uneasy, and gave evident signs that I wished to leave.
My friends would frequently prevent me, by following
me wherever I went, and some times watched me to
see if I gave any signs of taking my own life.
It was also about this time that ray unc'e proposed
to me to go with him to meeting at Olive's Chapel. I
did not wish to go, for I had been there once since I
had quit preaching, and felt that it did me more harm
than good ; but as my uncle desired me to go, and
talked kindly to me on the subject, I consented to go,
and would have done so if I had known it would cost
me my life. Indeed, I had an idea that my friends
would meet there on that day to see the last of me, for
I believed they intended to do something with me, and
it mattered little what to me.
We went to the meeting. No condemned criminal
ever felt or looked worse than I did. I was urged to
go into the house and take a seat with the old breth-
ren, and talk with them. I did go into the house after
awhile, being strenuously urged to do so by my uncle.
But after getting in there I repented that I went. My
uncle insisted that my old brethren should ask me
questions, and I felt as mean as Judas could have felt
156 The Life and Times of
after agreeing to sell his Lord and master for thirty
pieces of silver. I could hardly hold up my head ;
my countenance had fallen lower than ever; des-
pair was depicted in my countenance. The pains
of hell gat hold on me, and I felt that rocks and
mountains would be welcome to fall on me if they
could but hide me from the face of God and man for-
ever. I w^as displeased with my uncle for bringing
me there to be held up to the public gaze as an apos-
tate to the church and a traitor to his God.
My uncle now told me that he had had his way
about the course which I must pursue, and I now
might have my own way. I felt like a man who had
been led to the jumping off place and then told to go
which way he pleased, but on looking around on all
sides of the place where he stood, there yawned the
same deep and dark abyss. I knew not what to say
or where to go. My uncle urged me to make up my
mind quickly, as I should have my own way. He said
I might go east, west, north or south, just v/hich I
liked. I considered at first that he was trifling with
me, but as he insisted that I should make up my mind
quick I told him I would choose to go to my brother-
in-law's, Mark Barker's. So'my uncle took me there
in his buggy, and after staying there awhile he left
and went home. My brother Calvin was there that
night, I think.
My uncle left after awhile saying he would come
back to see me the next night. I spent a very un-
pleasant night. I felt like everybody was getting
tired of me, even my own brothers and sisters. I was
so mean in my own estimation that I could not blame
Rev. Johnson Olive. " 157
them for anything but their kindness towards me. I
told some of them to let me go to the dogs, where I
belonged, and yet they would continue to lavish their
kindness upon me. I told them that they were thus
heaping coals of fire upon my head. They would re-
ply that they were doing the best they knew how, and
only regretted that they could do no more. I was
aware of my inability to render myself agreeable, for
I had tried in vain to do so till my courage failed. I
frequently thought if I could hide myself in some
cave or den in the earth, where no human being could
ever find me, I would gladly do so. But that was im-
possible.
In some of my aberrations of mind about this time
I became almost ungovernable. Indeed, it seemed to
me that I felt some of the torments of the damned in
my flesh and bones as well as in' my mind. I would
wring my hands, gnash my teeth, writhe and twist,
and turn in various ways. Sometimes I would jump
and skip, and rub my feet and legs from the anguish
and pain of mind which I felt, and which seemed to
penetrate my whole system. It would generally wear
off in a short time, or gradually subside, so that I
would be able to compose myself, so far as these tor-
tures of body were concerned.
My uncle, according to promise, came back the next
night to see me,, and A. C. Richardson also came.
These were my two strong friends, who took such a
lively interest in my welfare. They had labored with
me long and faithfully. They had spared no pains OJ
expense in trying to set me right. They had been
158 The Life and Times of
with me both by day and by night. They had given
me line upon line and precept upon precept. All their
efforts seemed likely to avail nothing. They must
try some new experiment. What should be the next
step? After some consultation they resolved, to try
coercion — that is, force me. to do what I objected to.
I had told them that I did not wish to leave my broth-
er-in-law, Barker. They said I should go home to see
my wife and children. I objected to going home at
that time, stating as my reason that I should kill my
wife. They contended that I would not, and said I
should go to see them, and that they would show me
I would not do as I had said.
They probably thought that I was playing off, but
they little knew what was going on in my mind. They
took me out of the house, one on each side, and started
with me to see my wife and children. I plead hard
with them not to carry me there that night, as I felt
conscious that I should do mischief They would not
listen to me, but reproved me sharply, and spoke to me
roughly. The}' took me on my own grounds; spoke
freely of my meanness ; and how smart I had been in
deceiving the people. T api confident that A. C. Rich-
ardson preached that night as he will never preach
again. He became truly eloquent, and spoke as if his
lips had been touched with a live coal from off God's
holy altar. I was of the opinion then that he was moved
by some irresistable influence. I have talked with
him since about that matter, and his reply to me was,
he should never be able to tell his feelings on that oc-
casion. My uncle was as rigid in what he said as A.
C. Richardson, but did not speak so loud.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 159
They carried me about half the distance, when I re-
newed my request that they should carry rae no farther.
I plead hard for them to let me go, but if they had
loosed their hold on me I should have given them one
race through the woods that night. I would pull
backwards, but they would urge me on, and some-
times nearly drag me.
All this tended to arouse my vile passions, and if I
had had a weapon in my hand, I should have used it
on them. I have no doubt now that they were actu-
ated from the purest of motives. They were doing the
best they knew ; but I doubt very much whether they
pursued the wiser course with me on that occasion.
This was the only time that my friends tried arbi-
trary power with me. I will now tell how it operated
in my case. I was carried home to my wife and chil-
dren with one on each side of me. When we got there
they forced me into the house, took me into the room
where my wife was sitting, placed a chair close by h^
side, and ordered me to sit down, and my uncle said
to me: "Now kill your wife if you want to." My
hands were palsied, but I made an effort to seize her
by the throat, and felt that if I had had a deadly weapon
I should have used it. My uncle seized my arm and
drew my hand away. My poor wife commenced talk-,
ing to me in the most loving*and afiPectionate manner,
and I burst out crying, and rose up hastily and ran to
the bed and fell on my face. Here I lay, and would
not say a word to any one for sometime. My uncle
tried hard to get me to speak to him, but all in vain,
I would not so much as answer a question.
160 The Life and Times of
After staying a while my two friends who had
forced rae to come there left. I had never met my
dear companion in such a plight before, and I thank
my God that I never have since. I know not whether
this circumstance gave rise to my strong temptations
to swear and blaspheme or not, but I do know that I
suffered a great deal about this time from the dread-
ful temptations to use profane language. I never did
use profanity in all my youthful days ; I have no
recollection that I ever swore an oath, except on one
occasion, when I became very angry, and that was be-
fore I was grown up to manhood. But now it appeared
to me that I should swear in spite of all my efforts to
avoid it. These horrid oaths were constantly uprising
in my mind, and I was striving against them with
might and main, but they were constantly multiply-
ing and increasing in strength till I was so full of them
that it seemed to me I must give vent to them or burst
asunder.
It was about this time that I went a part of one day
with my mouth open, or my tongue gripped in my
teeth to prevent swearing. I told my wife, my uncle,
and others that I should swear,and when I did burst forth,
they had never heard the like before. These tempta-
tions to swear followed me up for a long time. Some-
times they would come i^pon me with great force, so
much so that I felt confident that I could. not hold in
much longer. I would frequently tell my wife that
she need not be alarmed to hear it at any time, for it
would certainly have to come.
I will here remark that I had strong temptations to
Rev. Johnson Olive. 161
almost every known sin. I was tormented by them
day and night. To some of these temptations I par-
tially yielded, or rather, as it appears to me, I was
forced to yield. It was in this, as it was in other
things, I saw the right and approved it too; I hated
the wrong, and yet the wrong would I do. I recollect
on one occasion I told my wife I should swear that
day. She said : " I have heard you say so before, and
you have not done it, and I shall never believe it till
I hear it." I told her that I had hitherto succeeded
in curbing it, but the temptation was becoming too
strong for me, and that I was getting so full of pro-
fanity it would be bound to come. She then asked
me if I thought it would do me any good to curse. I
replied, " no, it will only make bad wx)rse; but I shall
be bound to let it come, as I am getting so full I shall
burst." She- again replied that she would never be-
lieve I could swear till she heard it. I told her she
would hear it before night, to which she replied : "I
do not believe you could swear if you were to try." . I
replied, " yes I can," and she said, " let me hear you." I
then told her that I was a damned old sinner. She
reproved me and said if I commenced swearing she
would not live with me. But my wounded conscience
reproved me more sharply than she did ; for notwith-
standing I had spoken what I believed to be the truth,
I had used a bad word to express it.
I am not certain that I ever tried to swear after that
time, though the temptation followed me up for a long
time.
Involuntary thoughts tormented me daily, so that
162 The Life and Times of
when my friends would ask me what I was studying
or thinking about, I would reply to them by saying I
was studying or thinking of meanness. They would
tell me to quit it, and study something else; but they
had just as well have told the birds not to fly over their
heads.
This was about the first of January, 1861. I was at
horiie but little of the time. My uncle would come to see
me and get me off home with him, or to my brother's or
my mother's. Their motto was to keep me going from
place to place. I now think it was as good a plan as they
could have adopted, provided they could get me to go
without force. This they could generally do by kind
words and persuasive arguments. I recollect that my
sister-in-law, (brother Hollaway's wife) used to_ come
over very often when I ^as at home, and she almost
invariably brought me to terms by her kind, gentle
manner in talking with me. I would sometimes ob-
ject strenuously in the outset, but she had a peculiar
tact in overcoming me with kindness. As I have said
before, I never could stand before kind words and
gentle means. I always caved in or gave way under
that kind of treatment.
I must now come to the most mysterious and criti-
cal time of this dark period in my history. I have
had occasion to speak of instances in which imagina-
tion had something to do in my experience while on the
dark and dreary road of time. I shall be under the
necessity of saying more on that subject hereafter.
Indeed, it will be somewhat difficult in some few in-
stances to determine which was real and which was
Rev. Johnson Olive. 163
imaginary, as the one seems to be blended in the other.
I will, however, try to be as particular in drawing the
distinction between what was real and what was im-
aginary as possible, believing, as I do, that upon these
two hinges the whole matter turns. I will in the first
place remark, thatlbelievel was theservantofthedevil,
for " to whom ye yield your members servants to obey,
his servants ye are." I considered that when I yielded
to the temptation of the devil to commit suicide I be-
came his servant, and was invested with the spirit of
murder. In this consideration I had acted voluntary.
But when I failed to accomplish what I had vol-
untarily agreed to do, I would gladly have been di-
vested of that evil spirit. I had no desire to take the
life of any other person, and as such I desired the
spirit of murder to depart from me. But he would
not leave, neither was I able to cast him out; he must
remain there to torment me for a season. This mur-
derous spirit never got my voluntary consent to take
the life of any one of my fellow beings, but he did a
great deal to lead me in that direction. As I before
stated, this devil or wicked spirit suggested to my
mind that by taking the life of another person was
the way for ire to get out of the werld, and that stern
necessity -would require me to go out that way, and
the sooner the better. Now, I did not give in to this,
yet I felt that I would have to do so, for I believed
that the master was over the servant. This torment-
ing spirit continued his temptations, and led me into
many difficulties; and if I had been given up of God,
as I believed I was, this demon of hell would have
164 The Life and Times of
led me to endless ruin. I found myself no match for
bim. And if our God does not prevent, the devil will
get us all.
My uncle came down to my house and took me home
with him to^stay a few days, seeing, as I suppose, that
I was more restless and uneasy than usual. He gen-
erally stayed with me in the day time, and lay with
me at night. He had been broken of his rest and
greatly troubled in mind about me, and I saw very
clearly that his health was failing, and his spirit was
flagging. I considered myself the cause of all that
was wrong about him, and I believed, if he died I
would be the cause of his death. These things made
me feel awful, but it was unavoidable by me. I wished
I were dead. "Oh! that I had died before mine eyes
beheld the light." But I must drag along this wretched
sinful life. My uncle sent for his son to come and
stay with me that night, in order that he might take
some rest. I was in a small room with a bed and a
warm fire; my mind got into a train of thought, such
as I never experienced before or since. I was meditat-
ing on my fearful doom ; pouring over the miserable
state of my unhappy life, when the tempter interro-
gated me as follows: "What would you be willing to
do in order to get out of this dreadful state?" My
answer was: "I am willing to do anything." Now
said the tempter: "If you knew that killing a man
would relieve you, would you do that?" I hesitated,
but my mind voluntarily said, "Yes." Then said the
tempter: "Suppose it would not take you out of it,
but by taking the life of another you would be re-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 165
lieved, would you do that?" I discovered that my
mind was going irresistibly in a wrong course, and
endeavored to stop it by striking my head with my
fist or tearing out locks of my hair ; but all to no pur-
pose, as it rushed on like a stream of water over a
precipice. I answered in ray mind as before. And
then the question was : " How many would you kill in
order to be delivered?" My mind said " Everybody."
" But suppose you were not delivered then, what would
you do next?" My mind said : '' I would destroy the
devil and hell, if I had the pov/er." "And suppose
you were still as miserable as ever, and had the power,
what would you do next?" My mind answered: "I
would blot out heaven." " And what next?" I knew
what was coming. I scringed at the very thought;
but in spite of all my powers to prevent, my mind said :
*' I would pluck God from His throne." I had now
got to the end of my row ; I had no where else to go.
I had annihilated the world ; destroyed heaven and
hell ; plucked God from His throne. The thought of
what I had done threw me into convulsions. I could
not lie, sit, or stand ; but was hopping and skipping
over the room wringing my hands and rubbing my
feet. I would throw myself on the bed and in a few
minutes rise up and pace the floor; sit down and rise-
instantly from my seat, and rub and wring my hands.
My cousin, who was in the room with me, would ask
me what made me do so, and would say I wish you
would quit doing so. I told him that my mental pain
was so great that I could not do otherwise. I con-
166 The Life and Times of
tinued in this condition naore or less for some time ;
but at intervals I was more composed.
An hour or two after dark there' came two men to
my uncle's. They came in the hall room adjoining
the room in which I was. They spoke to my uncle,
and after the usual words of salutation they asked my
uncle where I was. He told them that I was in the
room, and that his son Thomas was with me. I knew
the men by their voice ; one of them was a minister
of the Gospel and the other was a Deacon of the
church. I was filled with anxiety to hear what they
would have to say about me. There was a window in
the wall between the room where they were and the
room where I was. The window was shaded with
curtains, but I was in six or eight feet of them. I was
so anxious to hear that I became an attentive listener;
for I verily believed that the hand of Providence was
now at work against me, and that those two men had
come under the direction of Providence to detect in me
what I conceived to be my meanness. They soon
asked my uncle how I was getting along; he replied
by telling them that I was in one of my worst ways
that night. They said we have come over to see him,
and what do you think of our going in to talk with him.
My uncle said ihat he thought it would be inadvisable
for them to go in that evening, as I was averse to com-
pany. They said we do not wish to intrude or do any-
thing which would make the case worse, but some-
thing must be done. My uncle asked what more coul
be done than what was already being done. To which
Rev. Johnson Olive. 167
they replied, we do not know ; but the thing has gone
on until something more is obliged to be done.
What I have stated above did occur, as I have since
inquired of my uncle concerning the truth of this
matter. And now what follows on this particular
point, I suppose, was imagination, though it appears
to me as real as the other. But as I have learned
from good authority the things which I am now about
to write did not occur, I shall put them down as the
result of imagination : The minister, of whom I spoke,
continued his conversation with my uncle. He said
something must be done, or some steps taken with me,
for that the thing was published in the papers. My
uncle asked, published where. He replied in the
Biblical Recordei' and the Sinrii of the Age. My uncle
expressed his astonishment, and said certainly it was
a mistake. No, said the minister, I have the paper in
my pocket, and he proposed to read it, if my uncle de-
sired it. My uncle said he would like to hear it; upon
which the minister drew the paper from his pocket,
and I heard it rattle, apparently, as plainly as ever I
heard a paper rattle, when thus dravt^n out and opened.
He then commenced reading in a low tone of voice,
though I could distinctly hear the most of what he
read. It was lengthy, embracing a period of twenty
years, and giving a brief historical sketch of my life;
and I considered it a very truthful sketch, with a very
few exceptions. The writer said that I had enjoyed, or
rather possessed the means of success in the ministry;
that I had a large family connection and a large circle
of personal friends, and that when I married I had
168 The Life and Times op
selected a woman in that respect like myself; that my
labors had been almost exclusively confined within
the circle of those relatives and friends ; that they had
stood as safeguards and as a wall of defence around,
me, and that I had always managed in some way to
retain their confidence ; that my relatives and friends
had always been blind or deaf to my failings and im-
perfections, but that others, who had not been so
closely and intimately connected with me, had seen
and believed that I was not what I pretended to be,
and that sooner or later the judgments of heaven would
overtake me. The writer also spoke of my becoming
restless and dissatisfied with my home and country,
and of my having made some arrangemejits to move
to the far west; but that Providence had interfered,
and kept me from going to a distant land to im-
pose on an innocent people there as I had done here.
The writer went on to say that I had imposed on
my best friends; that I had inveigled my brothers,
and especially my brother Calvin Olive, who, by the
way, unlike myself, was a very clever fellow ; that I
had neglected my wife and children, but by same art
or ingenuity peculiar to myself I had made them be-
lieve that I was a good man, and that they were still
hanging on to me, as was also my dear old uncle, who
then had me under his care ; that it was in consider-
ation of my family and friends that others had borne
with me as long as they had ; but that they had borne
with me until forbearance ceased to be a virtue, and
that the good of the cause required that truth and
justice should take place; that I was therefore pub-
lished to the world as an imposter.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 169
The part to which I objected was that the writer
wished to make the iinpression that I had done all
that I ever did from hypocritical motives. I believed
it was deception— that is, I was honest and sincere in
all that I had done, but had acted under Satan's de-
lusion. Upon the whole, I was not much, if any, bet-
ter than the downright hypocrite, fori was the de-
ceived and the deceiver of others.
This ends the present imagination. I believed it to
be r.'al, and continued to believe it for years, as noth-
ing appeared plainer to me. And it had the same
effect on my mind as if it had been true ; for I believed
it to be a reality, and according to my faith so was it
unto me. The foregoing is one of the plainest cases
of the powers of imagination working on the fancy
that I have ever experienced. I believed it to be true,
and felt so miserable about it that I was not disposed
to ask any questions in regard to the matter. And at
that time I should not have believed otherwise even
if the preacher himself had told me that I was mis-
taken ; for at this period of my life I believed that
my best friends would speak ironically to me.
I will now tell you how this thing affected me, and
the false conclusions to which it led me. I was so
miserable that I would willingly have ended my life
if possible, but I had no weapon. I did, however, find
a pound weight which I thought of using in trying to
break my head and burst out my brains, but being
fearful that I should make a failure, and also knowing
that my cousin was with me in the room, I laid down
the weight and took it up no more. That which
8
170 The Life and Times of
grieved me most was that I had brought such a re-
proach upon the cause of religion, and such a dis-
grace upon my family and friends. I wished that I
had succetded in taking m3^ life in the outset. It ap-
peared to me that it would have been better for all
concerned.
I slept but little that niglit; next morning I was
no better. My teeth chattered ; my eyes seemed to
ache within their sockets. They looked red and fiery.
My uncle has frequently spoken to me and others
of my dreadful appearance that morning. I walked
the floor exclaiming: ''Ruined, ruined, ruined! I
have ruined everything." My friends came in to see me,
but could give no relief. I told some of my best friends
that they had better not hang on to me any longer, but
let me go to the dogs, where I belonged, for I felt that
I was an outcast from God and man.
It w^as about this time that I concluded to try to
perish myself to death. I believed that every act of
kindness shown me by my friends was like heaping
coals of fire on my head.
I was in bed one morning when my uncle, as usual,
came to rouse me up for breakfast. I told him I did not
wish to eat. He insisted that I must eat. I told him
it was a sin for me to eat, and that I did not wish to
eat any more. He continued his arguments for some
time, but without gaining my consent to eat. He then
sent his wife to me. She was a very pious woman,
and she began pleading with me to go and eat break-
fast with her. I replied to her as I had to my uncle,
that it was a sin for me to eat, and that if she in-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 171
sisted on my eating she would be a partaker of my
sins. She then told me if I would not eat she would
not, saying, '' if you are a wicked man, as you contend
you are, I will show you that I can fast as long as you
can," I asked her if she wished to heap coals of fire
on my head. She said, " No." I said : " This is what
you are doing every time you ask me to eat." But
her kind words and importunity overcame me.
In a day or two after I had heard the preacher read
what had been published in the pajters concerning
me, my uncle asked me if I did not wish to go and see
my wife and children. I replied that I did. He said :
" Well, I will carry you to-day." Soon after we started,
he looked at me and said: " Johnson, I want you to
go to meeting with me next Saturday at Shady Grove.
The old brethren want to see you down there." I felt
confident I knew what was in hand. I had been pub-
lished as an impostor ; Shady Grove Church was going
to excommunicate me, and they had requested my
uncle to get rae to go without sending a committee for
me. I made no reply to my uncle at first, but he
urged me again, and said: " Will you not go?" I
then told him it would do no good, and that I did not
expect to go. He asked me why. I told him that I
did not wish to interfere with the worship of God.
He wished to know how I would do that. I told him
that my presence would do it, for that they would be
thinking of little else except me while I was present.
He then told me that I would have to go, and that he
thought I had better go then. All this forced the con-
viction upon my mind that the iShady Grove Church
172 The Life and Times of
was going to exclude me from its fellowship, and had
requested my uncle to get my consent to go, without
being cited by a committee froQi the church, as they
felt some delicacy in doing that, owing to my condi-
tian. I honestly believed that I was published to the
world as an impostor, and that everybody knew it, but
owing to my situation they were not disposed to tell
me of it ; and my feelings were so wretched in regard
to that fact I was not disposed to ask an3' questions
on the subject.
My uncle said no more to me on that matter till we
reached home, when he spoke to my wife as follows :
" Martha, I have been trying to get Johnson to go
with me to the meeting at Shady Grove next Satur-
day, but he seems to talk like he shall not go, but I
think he will, and I want you to try to get him to go,
as I think it will be the best for him to go. And don't
you think so too ?"
My wife joined my uncle in persuading me to go.
I said but little, and made no promises. But my
uncle told her to have my clothes ready, as he should
corbe early on Saturday morning to go with me to
meeting. He then left for home, telling my wife that
she must get me in the notion to go. I said nothing,
but had no idea of going without compulsion.
Soon after my uncle left my wife commenced talk-
ing with me, and very soon asked me if I was not go-
ing to meeting with my uncle. I told her that, I
reckoned not. She asked me why, I told her as I
had told my uncle, that it would do no good, and
that I did not wish to interfere with the worship of
Rev. Johnson Olive. 173
God. I also told her that I was not fit to go ; that I
should iiot attempt to make any defence if I went;
that if they should ask me if I thought I ought to be
retained as a member of the church I should tell them
no. And finally, I told her that I was not considered
as a member of the church. She replied that she
knew better, and asked me what made me think so.
I told her that my name might be on the church book,
but that it would not be there long. She expressed
her astonishment at my false notions, and charged me
with folly.
After some further questions and answers I told her
I was published as a vile impostor, and that I knew
enough about Shady Grove church to be satisfied that
yhe would not retain in fellowship a man that was
pulished as an impostor ; and that I was not going
there, for it was more than I could bear to meet the
case. My wife contended that there was not a particle
of truth in anything that I had said on the subject,
and asked me how I came to take up such false no-
tions. I replied that I hated it worse than anybody
else could hate it, but it was a dreadful realitv. She
said to me: "Did anybody tell you so?" "No," said
I, " but I heard it read." " Heard it read by whom ?"
I replied that I heard it read by a minister of the gos-
pel. She asked me where. I told her at my uncle's.
She then asked me if anybody heard it but myself. I
told her yes, my uncle and a deacon of the church.
She asked me some other questions about the papers
in which it was published. I told her that the min-
ister-said it was published in the Biblical Recorder and
174 TuE Life and Times op
the Spirit of the Age, and that I did not know which
paper he read, but I heard him read from one. My
wife then said to me : *' I intend to ask uncle Dempsey
about this when I see him," and turned off, to which
I replied : " Well, you can ask him, and he may say
what he pleases to you about this matter, but I know
that I heard it read, and he heard it too."
The fact is, I was of the opinion all that time that
the people were trying to keep my wife and children
in the dark in regard to the true situation of affairs
in relation to myself. They knew that my wife was a
devoted companion of her husband, and that she had
told them that she would never give me up. My chil-
dren, likewise, loved me with filial affection, and if the
thing had been made known to them' as I conceived
it to be, they would all have been heartbroken ; there-
fore I thought our friends and relatives were disposed
to keep these things concealed from them as long as
possible.
The time arrived for my uncle to come, in order to
go with me to meeting. He came at an early hour,
but I had made no preparation whatever. My uncle
began huirying me up. I told him I could not go;
he said he knew better, and that I must go. I would
not consent, but was disposed to get off from him. At
last he sought an interview with my wife, and I was
as anxious to hear what was said as any person could
be, in order that I might find out how things were
going. He asked my wife why I was so much averse
to going to meeting, and she then related to him what
I had said to her about being published, and about
IIev. Johnson Olive. 175
hearing it read in his presence, &c. She then said :
"Uncle Dem[)sey is it so?" I was situated where I
could see them both. Ho replied to her: *' No, that
will never be." But I saw in his countenance more
deceit than I had ever seen before. I was now more
thoroughly convinced than ever before that he was
using deception with my poor wife, though I thought
perhaps his motives were pure in trying to keep up
the anchor of hope. He tried me again to go with
him, but all to no purpose, for I had determined not
to go, unless compelled.
My uncle soon left, and ray wife came to me express-
ing her sorrow and regret that I would not consent to
go to meeting with my dear old uncle, who had put
himself to so much trouble and fatigue to get me to
go. I made some reply, expressing my belief that it
was best for me not to go. She then said to me: "I
asked uncle Dempsey about what you said concerning
your being published as an impostor, and about your
hearing that preacher read it at his house." I asked :
" What did he say ?" She replied : " He said ' no,.that
will, never be done.'" *' Yes," said I, " I heard him,
and I noticed him too; he said, 'that will never be
done,' but he did ni t tell you that it never had been
done." It has been published, and there is no use of
publishing it any more. Thus ended our conversa-
tion on that subject for the present.
176 The Life and Times op
CHAPTER XIII.
I was now left for a time to ray miserable reflections,
often walking over woods and fields, and at other
times trying to hide myself from the face of men, and
meditating on what course I would pursue next.
Sometimes I would conclude never to return home
any more, but to continue to wander further from
home; and then again I would conclude to return
home at evening.
I was persuaded to go and stay a few weeks with my
wife's relations, who always treated me with the
greatest kindness, and I often wondered how it could
be that they should show so much kindness tome
when I had acted so ungrateful towards them.
It was also in the earl}^ part of this year (1861) that
my uncle, who had taken such a lively interest in my
welfare, canceived the idea of getting up a school at
my house, which he said I must teach, but knowing
that I would not consent to undertake the business, he
employed a man to take charge of the school, and
urged me to assist the teacher in giving instruction to
the children. The truth is, my friends thought in
this way to keep me out of mischief, and if possible, to
attract my mind from the gloomy subject on which it
was always running, and place it on something else ;
and also to keep me under some sort of restraint from
running off from home.
The school was made up, and the teacher came. He
was a good and pious man — a member of the Meth-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 177
odist Church. His name was William Long, of Chat-
ham county. He was an old acquaintance of mine,
and a man whom I had always loved. Mr. Long
labored hard with me in trying to set me right. We
often walked off together at evening, and he would
pray for me, and ask me to join him. I felt so dead
and dull, and withall, so condemned, that I had no
heart to pray. But Long prayed for me, and often
shed tears freely while talking with me. Despair had
fast hold on me, and I felt every prayer which he of-
fered up for me only aggravated my dreadful doom. I
would frequently tell him that every act of kindness
which he or any other person showed to me was heap-
ing up coals of fire on my head. He would frequently
offer me a chew of tobacco, and I would say to him :
"Heap up more coals of fire on my head."
The school went on for several weeks, and brother
Long would sometimes have me in the house with him
as an assistant teacher; but I felt altogether unfit for
the place. I would frequently get up and walk out,
and be gone for hours, and then return ; at other times
I would not return till he or some other person would
look me up and bring me back. Thus things went
on for some considerable time. Meanwhile I was get-
ting no better, but considered myself growing worse
every day. Brother Long continued to labor with me
more or less all the time, for he seemed to possess the
gift of perseverance, and a good degree of patience.
But I am sure he had many hard trials with me, and
at times his patience must have been nearly exhausted.
I was conscious at the time that he was about to give
178 - The Life and Times of
me up as a hopeless case, for he would sometimes tell
me that he had done what he could, and express his
regret that I had no faith to receive his instructions
or to believe what he iiad said to me. I knew this to
be a fact, but found myself unable to avoid my own
conclusions. My mother and brothers and sisters
would frequently come to see me, but as they had
already exhausted their power and skill in trying to
talk me out of my false conclusions, as they termed
them, they would now seldom sa}^ anything to me on
the subject of my. unhappy condition. But tiiey were
still willing to do something, if they only knew what
to do
As I was getting more restless and ungovernable at
home, my friends and relatives determined to use every
effort to get me to travel. They had tried to do this
from the first of my troubles, but I had always op-
posed the idea myself, and would by no means con-
sent. I was unwilling that any one should see me in
that miserable plight.
But the time had come when something more must
be done, and as this thing had not been tried, they
were now determined to get me off if possible. My
uncle, Dempsey Johnson, who continued to visit me,
was the man who must try to get my consent. He
told me that he had consulted doctors and preachers,
the wise and the pious, and that they all recommended
that course, believing that it would be the best that
could be done under all the circumstances connected
with my case. And he then asked me. if I did not
wish the best thing to be done. Of course I had to
Rev. Johnson Olive. 179
give my assent to the question, but told him that it
would do no good. He knew that I had an aversion
'to company, and, as such, would not like to travel in
a public way ; he therefore proposed to me to take a
trip down the country with a man who was going after
a load of fish. I still insisted that it would do no
good, but lie insisted that I should make the trial, and
asked me if I thought it would do me any harm. I
told him no, for I thought I would be about as well off
in one place as another, but must be miserable any-
where. My uncle said h^ had consulted a number of
men on the subject, and among the rest he had con-
sulted an old brother, William Yates, the father of
Matthew T. Yates, missionary to China, and that all
of them thought it would be best for me to go. I
finally consented to go ; but before the day arrived
for us to start I got out of the notion. They had made
all the arrangements, prepared a horse and wagon for
me, and I was to go down with brother Ensley Coun-
cil, and bring up a load of fish, have the profits of the
load after reserving enough for my family. No ex-
pense on my part. All this was intended to induce
me to be willing to go. But the truth of the business
was, so ifar as I was concerned, it had no bearing at
all, for I cared nothing about the profits or the fish
either, only when hunger drove me to desire food. I
tried hard to plead off from going, but my old uncle
would hold me to my promise. He said that ray
friends had made the arrangements for me, believing
it would be the best thing that could be done, and that
I had given my consent to go, and it would never do
180 The Life and Times of
for me to back out now. I would still contend that I
could rot go, and urge as a reason that I should never
be able to get back. He would tell me that I would
certainly come back, and asked me if I could doubt
brother Council, who was going with me. I continued
to raise my objections till the hour arrived for us to
start. My uncle then told me I was bound to do some-
thing; that he had kept me from going to the asylum
because I was so unwilling to go, and that he had a
tender regard for me, but the iime had now come
when something more must be done, and if I would not
go with brother Council to the fishery, I would be car-
ried to the asylum, and he knew I had better go to the
fishery if I wished to keep out of the asylum. By
his many kind words and fair speeches he compelled
me to consent to make a start ; but before we got out of
sight of the house where I left my family I refused to
go any further, but by kind words and fair speeches
he got my consent to go on again.
After we got to brother Council's I endeavored to
plead ofi" from going, but my uncle would not hear to
it. Indeed he was so strenuous on my going that I
felt a little insulted with him. I believed that he had
given me up and wished to get me off of hfs hands
and out of his sight.
My uncle went with us a short distance, and when
he was going to turn back home ho gave me his hand
to bid me farewell. I held on to him for some time,
and insisted on going back with him. I shall never
forget the place, and some of my feelings on that oc-
casion. I never expected to see him any more in this
Rev. Johnson Olive. 181
world, for I believed then that he had given me up
for lost, and was thus endeavoring to get me out of his
sight, like one of old who said : " Bury my dead out
of my sight."
I then concluded to go on with brother Council,
knowing that he had always been a true friend to
me. I could have trusted him if I had been in a situ-
ation to trust any man. He did all that he could by
way of talking, and making fair promises to encourage
me to go on with him. He said that he would cer-
tainly bring me back if his life was spared, and even
if I should die he would box me up and bring my
body back. I believed him to be honest and sincere,
but had no idea that he would be able to do so, for I
believed that things had been ordered differently,
though unknown to him. My impression was that I
had become not only burdensome to my family and
friends, but tormenting and disagreeable to them all.
My uncle had frequently told me that it would not do
for me to stay too long at any one place, for if I did they
would become nearly or quite as bad as myself. He
intimated to me that my condition was somehow con-
tagious, and if the same persons continued with me
long, they would become partially deranged. I had
also noticed that my poor wife, who had borne the
burden and heat of the day with me, had shown some
signs of distress an,d great trouble when I had con-
tinued in her presence for some time. And this ren-
dered me so miserable that I often consented to leave
home and go among my friends when I otherwise
should not I believed the time had come when all
182 The Life and Times of
my relatives and friends were tired of me; and for
the welfare of my wife and. children they had con-
sulted together and determined to get me far away
from them, and place me somewhere in close confine-
ment, where some person or persons would be em-
ployed to take charge of me and treat me as I deserved.
My impression was that letters would be sent to my
wife and children pretending that I was getting better,
when the fact of the case would be I should be grow-
ing worse all the time. I thought they would do this
in order to build up the anchor of hope in the bosom
of my poor wife and children. These impressions
were so firmly fixed in my mind that I had no faith
in the fair promises of brother Council.
After going with him about five miles I concluded
to go no further. I told him he might go on, but that
I was going back home ; but he commenced talking to
me in such kind words and in such a winning man-
ner that he gained my consent to go on with him to the
fishery.
When we got to the City of Raleigh I lay down in
the wagon, hoping that I might not be seen by any
person there. As brother Council had some business
to transact we were detained there some hours, and
during that time several persons who h-ad been ac-
quainted with me for years found me out and came to
see me. They all seemed to sympathize with me, and
some of them tried to talk with me, but I had deter-
mined not to talk, except to answer a direct question.
They inquired about my family, my health, &c., but I
answered in as few words as possible. I had induced
Rev. Johnson Olive. 183
brother Council to make solemn vows to me that he
vvouUl not carry me to the asylum, or leave me in the
City of Raleigh.
We left late' in the evening and travelled four miles
below Raleigh that nighiand struck camp. We w^ere
in a neighborhood where I had preached several years,
and in two miles of the church. My wretched mind,
which had been in a strain all day reflecting on the
past and anticipating the future, now began to settle
down on the present, not to rest, but to be tormented
with the scenes which now surrounded me.
Brother Council had asked me that evening if I did
not wish to see some of the old brethren of Bethel
Church. I told him no. He replied that it was very
strange, " for," said he, " you used to love to come
down here to see them, and why not now ; I know they
would be glad to see you." I told him if I could see
them, as I had seen them in days past, I would be
glad to do so; but to see them in my present condi-
tion I had no desire for it, as it would do me no good,
or them either. He said he had thought of sending
some of them word to come out to our camp that night
and see me. I told him he need not do it, asldid not
wish to see them ; but in a short time after night
several persons came to our camp to see me. They all
appeared glad and anxious to talk with me. I had
but little to say,' except to answ^er direct questions.
They seemed disposed to make me believe that I was
getting better, but I told them that I was getting worse
every day. Some of them came like Job's friends, to
comfort me, but I, like him, found them all miserable
184 * The Life and Times of
comforters. I did not doubt their sincerity or purity
of motives, but I bad no faith in their wisdom or power
to do me any good.
Some things which occurred that night, dreadful to
my feelings then, have amused me in thinking over
them since that time. There was one man in partic-
ular who annoyed me very much by his words and
acts. He was no professor of religion, but a man who
had often heard me preach. He had been indulging
rather freely that evening, and he appeared very anx-
ious to see me, and if possible, to find out the cause of
my derangement, I nad seated myself at the root of
a pine tree, and appeared as dejected and forlorn as a
man well could. He enquired of others where I was.
They pointed me out to him. He raised himself up,
and then stooping over towards me, exclaimed : " Is
that Johnson Olive; is that the man whom I used to
hear preach at old Bethel ?" Brother Council would
reply to his interrogations by saying: "Yes, that is
brother Olive, and he will be preaching again some of
these times." The intoxicated man would say : "Well,
I never should have known him. What did put him
in that fix?" Brother Council would say: "Oh, he
has studied too hard; but he will soon be all right
and preaching again." The man would peep at me
and raise himself up, and then exclaim : "It is one of
the strangest things that I ever saw. Why, I have
heard that man preach at old Bethel many times, and
be would get up in the stand, take the old book, and
read out his text, and then close the book, and go
right on, as though it were all before him. Why, he
Rev. Johnson Olive. 185
knew it all !'^ Brother Council would reply : " Yes,
and he knows it all now. 0! he will be all right
again."
At this juncture I felt more like a fool than any-
thing else, for it appeared to me that I vv^as a laughing
stock for the crowd. One of my comforters, seeing my
uneasiness and sympathizing with me, volunteered his
services to vindicate my cause. I was sitting by the
pine, saying nothing, but feeling as mean as a dumb
devil. My comforter exclaimed: "Gentlemen, you
don't know that man as well as I do; I have been ac-
quainted with him ever since we were little boys. We
are about the same age, for I have heard my mother
say SO'. I shall never forget the time when I was a
little boy, going to mill and let my bag fall off, and he
came along and helped me up with it. I have known
him ever since, and he has always been kind-hearted,
friendly and obliging, and I know he cannot help his
condition, for if he could he would; but," said he,
"we all have our opinions about these things, and I
have mine." Some one of the crowd asked him to
state hii opinion, to which he replied: "The Bible
says before the end of time there shall be wars and
rumors of wars, and these things are now upon us,"
(as the great battles of 61 were beginning to be fought.)
" But," said he, " the Bible does not stop here, but
goes on to say, that in the latter days, ' false Christ and
false teachers shall arise, and go out and deceive many,
and if it were possible they would deceive the very
elect.' Now," said he, "all those Scriptures must
be fulfilled, and there must be some person or persons
186 The Life and Times of
to fulfill them, and the lot happening to fall on him, he
must needs be one of them; but he should not be
blamed, for he cannot help it." And he asked me if I
did not view it in the same way. I replied that I did,
or that I believed it was so.
My feelings here are more easily imagined than de-
scribed. I felt meaner -than a thief would feel who
had been caught stealing, taken up and tried, found
guilty and condemned, and punished, by receiving the
full penalty of the law. Bat afterwards, being met by
the man from whom he had been stealing (in a public
crowd), he speaks to him kindly, introduces him to the
persons present, and very kindly reminds them this is
the man that he caught stealing his goods, and that
although he had taken steps to have him brought to
justice — had him tried, condemned aiid whipped for
his roguishness, yet he would not have the crowd think
any the less of him on that account, for the Scriptures
say that some men will steal, and they must be ful-
filled ; the lot happened to fall on him; he could not
help it; he is kind-hearted, and a very good sort of a
fellow, only he has a propensity to steal ; but you
should not think any the less of him on that account.
In reflecting on these things I have received many
useful lessons of instruction. I find man to be a poor,
imperfect creature, at best; and when laboring under
any disordered state of mind he will exhibit more
clearly the depravity of human nature.
People who had seen me but a few months and years
previoas to that time, and who had heard me. pro-
claiming the glad tidings of salvation through a cru-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 187
cified Redeemer, and inviting sinners to the Gospel
supper through the medium of repentance towards
God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ as the terms
of acceptance, would scarcely recognize me now in my
unhappy state, being dead to all spiritual things, and
could think of nothing in connection with my former
life but in a way of condemnation. I was passing
through the valley of Achor ; darkness had shrouded
my mind; faith gone; not one ray of hope to pene-
trate, or even glimmer in my soul was perceptible to
me. But darkness, death, and dread despair reigned
in constant horrors there. And yet memory was so
fresh and retentive ! The past, the present and the
future were constantly passing before the eye of the
mind, loaded with horrid and terrific consequences.
My sufferings and my sorrows here,
No human tongue has told ;
I "would not pass through them again,
For my full weight in gold.
My friends who were trying to comfort me greatly
mistook my case, and every effort on their part seemed
only to sink me lower in the trough of despond. I
think I must have experienced some of the torments
of the damned. My conscience, my reason and my
judgment, all justified God in His dealings towards
me, and yet I would not have borne it if I could have
evaded it. Like the coiidemned culprit, justice was
what I dreaded most. 0! the worm that dieth not,
and the fire which is never to be quenched ! Who can
bear it? Sinner, can you ?
I have also discovered great ignorance in the minds
188 The Life and Times of
of many well intended persons in their exposition of
the Scriptures. Men do greatly err not knowing the
Scriptures nor the power of God. Men have always,
since the fall, been trying to hide their sins, or to ex-
onerate themselves from guilt ; and they would gladly
wrest the Scriptures from their true interpretation to
justify them in doing so. False Christ and false teach-
ers are none the less criminal from the fact that they
are foretold in Scriptures. Men make them a subter-
fuge fortheirsinsnow, but they will not be able to stand
to them hereafter. Many of these false subterfuges will
be swept away by the storms and tempests of God's
wrath in time, and all will be swept away with a besom
of destruction in eternity. Man's duty is to obey God,
to fear him and keep His commandments. And when
he undertakes to fathom the mind of God, and to pry
into the secrets of Jehovah, to understand His decrees,
his foreknowledge, his purposes and designs, he is
going beyond bis limits, and aspiring to be like
God, and know all things ; he makes himself more
like the devil, and shows his folly in doing so. God
has given His intelligent creatures a sense of their ac-
countability, and hence man feels himself responsible
to God for his conduct, and this is what man wishes
to throw off. He does not wish to come to the. light,
lest his deeds be reproved. He loves darkness rather
than light, because his deeds are evil. Thus he al-
ways tries to extenuate his guilt, and shift off the
blame on some one else. It would be much better to
come up to the touchstone at once, and let the plain,
naked facts speak for themselves. In this way truth
Rev. Johnson Olive. 189
would be respected, the temptation to lie would be
weakened, and moral habits strengthened. In short,
man would be the better prepared to serve God, pro-
mote virtue, and be useful in the world. Try this
rule.
CHAPTER XIV.
I will now return to the camp whence I left. We
remained there that night, and next morning at an
early hour we started on our journey to the fishery.
We had not gone far before we found old brother
Lewis Dupre and sister Dupre, his wife, with several
other persons, waiting on the roadside to see me as I
passed. The scene was very affecting to me. Old
brother Dupre came up to the wagon and shook hands
with me, and I saw the big tears start from his eyes,
and I caught him around the neck and hugged him,
though I felt that it was like the devil hugging a saint.
Sister Dupre brought out some sweet bread and pressed
me to take some, which I did for her sake, feeling at
the time it was like coals of fire being heaped on my
head.
I have named these little things to let the reader
know how fresh and retentive my mind was at that
time, and how indellibly every little incident was im-
pressed upon my memory. And this was generally
the case during that awful period of five years in the
history of my life, and during which time people
looked upon me as being a deranged man.
190 The Life and Times of
We went on our journey, and were soon out of the
circle of my acquaintance, but strangers and every-
body seemed disposed to treat me witli great kind-
ness; so much so that I believed they had been noti-
fied that I was coming, and that ail intended to try to
get me out of the world by over much kintlness.
I saw many beautiful farms in Pitt county, near
Greenville. I also saw several companies of volun-
teers drilling, in order to prepare for the field of bat-
tle. 1 had many strange thoughts about these things,
but said nothing. I thought the young men looked
as if they thought they were going to a frolic, or
merely to have a little fun in a child's play. They
were generally profane, and would swear that they
would have Lincoln's head or a lock of his hair. I
was conscious that they were oversighted. I knew
that the spirit of war was calculated to inflame the
mind and fire the heart. Mean as I was, in my own
estimation, I was sorry to see them going into the very
jaws of deatli so little prepared. I would much rather
have seen them all religious; then I should have had
strong hopes of our success; but I feared that there
was not salt enough to save the lump. Poor fellows!
But few of them lived to return home to their rela-
tives and friends. Yet we can but hope that the power
of mercy and goodness of God reached many of their
hearts before they died.
When we arrived at Old Jamestown, in Martin
county, we concluded to carry our wagons no further.
We got in a boat and went down to a fishery some
miles below. The owner of the sein treated me with
Rev. Johnson Olive. 191
the utmost kindness. He even gave up his hed for me
to lie on, and would have everything served up in the
nicest order for my accommodation. Anything in the
way of the finny tribe that I wanted must come. T
I have never yet fully understood why strangers were
so kind to me.
We soon had our wagons loaded and started for
home. Nothing of special interest took place till we
arrived at Clayton, in Johnston county. Here we met
up with a man who had been acquainted with me for
years. He was a Captain of a company of volunteers.
He tried hard to get my consent to preach in the Bap-
tist church that night, but he might as well have tried
to get my consent to start to the moon, for only one
thing would have induced me to make the attempt
then, and that was to believe it would enable me to
get out of my unhappy condition. But as f had , no
faith that could not be.
We came on near Raleigh and stayed all night at
the same place where we camped the first night after
leaving home, where so many things occurred, a part
of which I have related. We lay in the house that
night, and took supper with the family.
Next morning we came on through Raleigh, and
made our way home that night. I felt glad to meet
ray wife and children once more, as I had expected on
leaving them two weeks before never to see them- any
more in this world. My dear wife met me with pleas-
ing emotions, hoping and believing that I had greatly
improved. In order to encourage her, I professed to
be a little better, but in reality I felt no better, only I
192 The Life and Times op
was glad to see them. My relatives, friends and neigh-
bors continued to coine to see me, and ask me ques-
tions about my trip to the fishery. I now determined
never to leave home so far any more, unless I was
forced to do so.
I soon became restless again, and could not remain
in one place long. I would sometimes imagine that
my uncle would come after me to take me off to the
asylum, and I have frequently left home in the morn-
ing and stayed off all day to prevent being seen.
Sometimes I would lie down, sometimes walk through
the woods, up and down the banks of creeks and
branches seeking rest, but finding none. In this way
I often rendered my wife very unhappy, and some-
times uneasy. She had sometimes walked till she has
tired herself down looking for me, and then at night
I would come up like a cow to be fed. My poor wife
would often reprove me for doing so, and beg me with
tears in her eyes not to do so any more. I would often
resolve that I never would do so again, and perhaps
the very next day I would go and do the very same
thing over again, or something worse. No person
could condemn my course more strongly than I did
in my own mind, and yet I would pursue it. I have
often felt the force and truth of the words of the poet,
when he said :
' ' I see the right, and approve it too,
I hate the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue."
I spent the greater part of the spring of 1862 about*
home and visiting my relations and the relations of
my wife. They would frequently come after me and
, Rev. Johnson Olive. 193
take me home with them, in order, as I thought, to
give my wife and children a little rest, for I believed
that I was a tormenter to all who w^ere with me; an(}
for the sake of my poor wife, who had always proved
so kind to me, I would consent to leave home when I
had no inclination to do so, and otherwise would not
have consented to leave.
I recollect on one occasion my wife's brother, Jack-
son Hunter, came after me to go home with him. I
believed he was mad with me for having deceived his
sister so long, and being the cause of so much trouble
to her. The impression rushed into my mind that he
was going to have me taken away from my family,
and that his plan w^as to persuade me to go home with
him and have a company of men there to take me
off to the asylum, or to some other place, far away
from my family. I refused to go. He talked kindly
to me, and told me that I must go with him, as he had
come on purpose to take me home with him. I still
refused to go, and he then went and talked with my
wife, and she came to persuade me to go with her
brother. I still refused to go, and he took hold of my
arm to pull me on with him ; I resisted, and laid hold
of the piazza post and refused to let go. He then told
my wife to help him get me in the buggy with him,
and she came to break my hold from the post. This
act of hers irritated me a little, but I made no further
resistance, for I felt that she was tired of me and
wished to get me away from her. We mounted the
buggy together. (I would not bid my dear wife fare-
well, but her brother laid his arm around me to pre-
9
194 The Life and Times of
vent my jumping out and leaving him.) There was
no danger, however, for I had no idea of leaving, even
if he had been going to throw me into prison, for I
had but little care about me then.
After going on a short distance I told him there was
no use for him to be holding on to me. He said that
he was afraid that I would jump out and leave him.
I told him that I would not. He then loosed his arm
from around me, and I made no attempt to leave him.
I remained at his house for several da^^s, and then
he carried me home. He tried to talk with me a great
deal, and gave me much good advice, but I was in a
poor {)light to receive any material benefit from good
instruction.
After remaining about home and visiting my mother,
brothers and sisters, I became restless and uneasy
again, so much so that I was rendering my fauiily
very unhappy.
About this time another one of my wife's brothers
came to our neighborhood on business. Some one
told him how I was acting, and how distressing my
conduct was to my wife and children. It was J. C.
Hunter, and I had understood long before that he had
said, when talking about me, that he had no use for
fools anyway. He was advised to go to my house and
take me home with him awhile. He came, but I was
not at home; I was over at the house of my brother-
in-law, Mark Barker He followed me up till he
found me. He came to me apparently very friendly.
I believed that he was using deception, for I felt that
he was mad with me, and hated me in his heart. He
Rev. Johnson Olive. 195
soon told me that he had come for me to go home
with liim, and said that I had been to see all the rest,
but had not yet been to see him. I tried to frame ex-
cuses and raise objections to going. He persuaded and
insisted, while I continued to raise objections and re-
fused to go; but after awhile he took me aside, and
with his many kind words and fair speech he causecl
me to yield.
I went with him home. He and his wife and family
all treated me with great kindness, but I felt unde-
serving, and it seemed like heaping coals of fire on my
head.
One morning while I was at J. C. Hunter's he asked
me if I could not help him shed-in his barn. I told
him I thought I could. " Well," said he, " I want you
to help me put on shingles to-day." I told him that
I would try and do so.
After breakfast we went out to the barn, threw up a
quantity of shingles on the scaffold, and went up to
lay and nail them on. He gave me my choice to lay
down shingles or nail them on. I told him that I
would lay the shingles awhile and see if I could suit
him, and if not, he might lay and I would nail. He
soon commenced praising me, and said that I could
beat him. I thought he was trying to flatter me, but
said nothing.
We worked on for some time, when another man
came to help us. My brother-in-law told the last
comer that if he wished I might lay shingles for him,
as he had found me to be a first rate hand at that busi-
ness, and that he, my brother-in-law, would lay and
196 The Life and Times of
nail for himself. The man replied that he would pre-
fer to do his own work ; that I might continue to lay
for him as I had been doing. I was confident that the
man did not want me about him, and T was also con-
scious of the fact that my brother-in-law had merely
invited me to help him in order that I might not get
away from him by running off.
We all continued to labor on till about 10 o'clock in
the morning, when the sun was shining very warm.
We all lolled back on the shelter to rest a few minutes.
The man of whom I have been speaking was sitting near
me. I do not recollect that he had spoken to me thatf
day. He now looked me straight in the face and said :
" Didn't you use to preach ?" I replied to him by say-
ing, " I used to try." " Well," said he, " I thought you
did. Don't you reckon you'll preach again some
time ?" I told him " no, I had no idea of ever trying
to preach any more," when he replied: "Well, you
are the queerest man I ever seed." My brother-in-law
knew that I did not wish to talk upon that subject;
he therefore tried to turn the conversation by propos-
ing that the man should wrestle with me on the
shelter. I instantly rose up and said to the man : "If
you feel like wrestling, here is at you." The man be-
came frightened, and came near running off the
shelter. After this he did not choose to come near me
while I remained there.
I have since learned that he said that he did not
like to stay up there with me, for fear that I might get
bold of him and throw him off and break his neck, a3
Rev. Johnson Olive. 197
he had always understood that deranged persons were
the strongest people in the world.
I have related the above incidents to show how re-
tentive my memory was, and is, of all that took place
during that dark period of my life. I was the most
wretched and miserable person you ever saw, and yet
I could not forget anything, or suffer anything to pass
under my observation unnoticed. When my brother-
in-law proposed for me and that man to wrestle, I felt
for one moment all my mischievous propensities rise
within me, and a native vein of humor ran all over me
in an instant. If he had accepted my banter I should
have tried to throw him, not with any desire to hurt
him, for I would rather have been killed myself than
to have killed him at that time.
I continued there but a few days, and then went
over to Isaac Hunter's, and from there I went to J.
W. Rogers', and after staying there a few days he took
me in his buggy and carried me home.
I remained at home, and about home, for some
weeks. I would continue to run off occasionally, and
give my poor wife more trouble and uneasiness. Some-
times my dear old mother would come and get me to
go home with her, and again some brother or sister
would come and persuade me to go with them. Thus
I was going from place to place, possessed with a dumb
devil, tormented day and night myself, and proving a
tormenter to all who were with me.
In the month of May our youngest child, a little in-
fant some six or eight months old, was taken very
sick. I believed that I was the cause of its sickness
198 The Life and Times of
and when it died I believed I was the cause of its
death. While it was sick and languishing, I tried to
do all that I could to have it cured. I recommended
my wife in sending for a doctor, but I felt so misera-
bly condemned that I dared not face the doctor. I
suppose I felt somewhat like a man who in a fit of in-
toxication or madness had struck one of his children
and given it a fatal wound or death blow ; but while
the child lingered in pain, and in the agonies of death
the father manifested great concern for the life of the
child, and would gladly do all in his power to prolong
its time. Our child continued to grow worse, and the
disease continued to fasten on its vitals, till it expired.
I felt too mean to live, and yet I could not die. I felt
that I stood guilty in the sight of God of murdering
my child, I could not shed a tear, for my heart was
as hard as adamant. My anguish was so great that I
soon left the house, intending to go oflp and never re-
turn. I wandered through woods and fields, and at
last I lay down to try to rest, for my burden was heavy.
My brother, Holaway Olive, and Mark Barker found
me, after hunting for me some time. They both re-
proved me for doing as I had, in leaving my poor dis-
consolate wife with her dead child in the house, to
serve alone, and attend to the preparation for the
burial of the child. I told them that I was the cause
of the death of the child, and if I stayed there I should
be the cause of the death of my wife, for that I felt
certain she would not live long if I stayed about her.
They both said I was superstitious, and that I was
always taking up false notions.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 199
They fiaally prevailed on me to go to the house.
When I got there my poor wife was bathed in tears,
some of my children cryiug, but my demon heart was
as hard as ever.
Our friends and neighbors had made all the neces-
sary arrangements for the burial of the child. They
had interrogated me and my wife concerning the
place where we wanted it to be buried. Our oldest
child, a beloved daughter, was buried at our place on
Middle Creek. We concluded to have our little infant
son carried there and buried by its sister, and not have
our dead children scattered all over the world. The
distance was about twelve miles, and I had never been
back there since I first left. I did not wish to go now.
I should there have my mind filled with the awful
past and future. It was there I had attempted to take
my own , wretched life and failed. I must pass the
very place w^hich I had selected to commit the horrid
deed. I must go with my poor heartbroken wife,
whom I had already ruined, and was murdering her
by degrees as fast as I |could by my devilish conduct.
But oh ! I must carry along with me my murdered
child, and myself the murderer. I must meet my old
neighbors and friends at the burying, and feel that
they all must know that I had been the cause of my
own child's death.
All these things, and many other?, were rushing
into my mind by way of anticipation, I did not feel
willing to abide them. I insisted that they should let
me stay at home, and leave it for others to go with my
poor heartbroken wife to bury our child. My broth
200 The Life and Times of
ers and sisters would not hear to my excuses. They
said I must go, and began to make arrangements to
get off. My wife insisted on my going, and at last I
consented to go with her. 1 sometimes wished that I
was dead, and lying in a coffin beside my child.
Awful feelings, but I said nothing.
When we got to our former home, where we were to
have our child buried, there were a good many people
present, waiting for us to come. They met me and
spoke to me kindly, but my feelings were awful in the
extreme. Our child was buried in the evening, the
company dispersed, and we continued there that night
with brother Goodwin and his wife and family, who
were living there that year.
Next morning brother Goodwin took me off to show
me his crop. I felt so mean that I could hardly hold
up my head, and yet I was treated with the utmost
kindness by brother Goodwin and his wife.
I shall never be able to describe my desperate feel-
ings about this time; for I felt and believed that I was
undone for time and eternity, and no way to help. my-
self. Sometimes I would murmur and complain at
my unhappy lot ; but on reflection I would feel that I
was only suffering what was justly due.
Having attended the burial of our child, and re-
mained at our old home during the night, we left for
our new home next day. We traveled very slowly,
for I felt as though I had killed my child and buried
it, and was now taking my poor heart-broken wife
home, to linger on a short time, and follow in the foot-
steps of her children to the grave. And that I should
Rev. Johnson Olive. 201
be guilty of the death of all, because I believed I
should finally wear them all out if I continued with
them. Many and many times did I wish that I had
succeeded in taking my own wretched life before the
awful crisis had arrived which I was now passing
through and doomed to witness.
About this period of my unhappy life I had become
so cowardly in my spirit, and so weakened in my reso-
lutions and nervous system, that I made no further at-
tempt to end my miserable life, for I was now con-
vinced (and had been for some time), that God would
not suffer me to sneak out of the world in that way.
This was in the latter part of May, 1862.
When we got home we found the rest of our familv
well, but the place seemed to be shrouded in gloom.
Our children were sad, and whenever one of them
mentioned the name, death or burial of our little The-
ophilus, it was like a dagger to my soul ; I could not
bear to hear them talk about the child. I could not
remain in the presence of my family long if they
talked about the cliild,forI felt that in some mysterious
way its blood would be required at my hands.
I remained about home for a few days, feeling all
the time that I was gradually wearing out the lives of
my poor wife and children. I have no doubt that I
experienced some of the feelings of a murderer who is
trying to escape from justice, and the judgments of
heaven are overtaking him; the mark of Cain isupon
him; his countenance has fallen, and a vagabond and
fugitive stare him in the face wherever he goes; in
202 The Life and Times of
vain he tries to hide his guilt, for the justice of God
will find him out.
I would often become so restless and uneasy that I
would leave home in the morning and wander through
the woods, up and down creeks and branches till
night, and then return home, feeling as mean as any
person can feel under any circumstances. I would be
ashamed to meet my wife and children ; I would re-
solve never to do so any more; but I would soon find
myself pursuing the same course.
When I became very troublesome to my wife and
children, ray friends would come and get me off home
with them to stay a few days. I would soon become
weary, and wander off from them, and sometimes give
them no little trouble in looking me up. When this
was the case they would either carry me home or get
me off somewhere else. I would sometimes go with
my brother, or a friend, to his field and help him work
awhile, but my presence was always irksome, because
I would have nothing to say.
Thus the state of things moved on with me during
the summer of 1863 I took one trip up to brother
Wesley Marcom's, near Morrisville, Wake county.
After staying with him and some of his neighbors
about a week, he brought me home to my wife and
family.
The war was raging, and many of the young men
of the country were going off as volunteers in the ser-
vice. I had quit reading books, and was not disposed
to read anything but war news. My friends, finding
that I would read the news of the day, kept me well
Rev. Johnson Olive. 203
supplied with newspapers, and in this way I was
pretty well posted on the progress of the war, as stated
in the papers. As miserable and wretched as I was,
and had been from the commencement of the war, I
had my notions about things as well as others. I was
opposed to secession at first, and continued so till Lin-
coln's proclamation calling on the State of North Car-
olina for troops to help put down the rebellion. When
that came out, I could not bear the idea of seeing
Southern men taking up arms against their own peo-
ple. The idea of fighting and killing our own neigh-
bors and kindred w^as revolting to reason and com-
mon sense. I did not, however, have anything to say
about it, unless I was interrogated, which was very ofien
tlie case. I had believed ail the time thafas Abraham
Lincoln had been elected by a constitutional majority
of the people of the United States, it was the plain
duty of all to try him, and to show no signs of re-
sistance, unless he did plainly and culpably violate
his oath of ofiice, to " abide by and support the Con-
stitution of the United States," and I looked upon
every movement in opposition to that as being revo-
lutionary. But as before remarked, I had nothing to
say about these things, unless I was interrogated, for I
felt that I had no personal or individual concern in it.
4.
I took no part in voting, or even going to an election ;
and so far as I was concerned, it mattered little how
things w^ent on, or how they terminated, for I was un-
done anyway, and nothing that might come to pass in
consequence of the war would alter my case in any
shape or form. In my own estimation I was already
20d The Life and Times of
ruined, both for time and eternity, and I cared but
little what course things took, so far as I was con-
cerned. But notwithstanding all this indifference
about myself, I had some natural feelings for others.
I was sorry to hear of the death of so many on the
battle field, and of the bloodshed and carnage of war.
I would often think that I was in part the cause of it,
from the fact that I considered myself a bond servant
of the devil, and I considered this war a part of his
dirty work. I was sorry to hear of so many of the
young men of our neighborhood going off in volun-
teer companies. I would never go to their festivals,
to see them marching off, and bidding adieu to rela-
tives, friends and loved ones, for I felt that they were
like' lambs go-ing to the slaughter to be butchered up,
in order to gratify the appetites of blood-thirsty men.
I said nothing about these things then, only when
questioned.
At last the time arrived when my oldest brother,
Calvin Olive, the only unmarried brother I had, and
who had taken such a lively interest in my welfare,
began to speak of volunteering for the war. He
had been a strong secessionist in principle from the
commencement of the war, but owing to the fact that
all my mother's children had married and left her but
him, he had considered it his duty to stay and take
care of his aged mother till now. The time had come
for men to begin to act out their principles. My
brother Calvin was an honest man, though he and
I had differed in our political sentiments all the
time. We had also differed in our notions and senti-
ments about the w^ar, and we sometimes talked about
Rev. Johnson Olive. 205
these things. But he being an honest man and a
brave uaan, could not bear the idea of staying at home,
and paying his money freely to others to face cannon,
and he himself stay, at home, under the plea of neces-
sity, to take care of his mother. He could not bear
tha idea of being told that he was an advocate of the
war, but it was only to get others to go, while he him-
self would stay at home, under the plea of taking care
of his old mother, when at the same time his object
was to keep out of the way of danger, and stay at
home and make money. He told me these things, and
said he must go. I raised objections ; told him that I
did not know what I should do if he left, for he was
one of my strongest friends. I also told him that I
thought he ought to stay at home as long as he could,
for the sake of his dear old mother. He replied to me
that he was actuated in this thing from a sense of duty
to his country, and that he should go, and leave the
result with God. I had regretted to hear of many per-
sons leaving before, but this was the heaviest blow on
.that subject yet. He soon joined the company, and
after making the necessary arrangements and prepa-
raions he went into the service.
My brother-in-law, Thomas J. Hunter, volunteered
soon after the commencement of the war, and now
another one, Jackson Hunter, who married my own
sister, was also making arrangements to go into the
war, and leave his wife and little children to get on as
they could.
All these things, in addition to my mental sufifer-
ings, helped to crush my spirit still lower. I felt that
206 The Life and Times of
in one way or another I should be deprived of all my
friends, and then die a miserable death, unregretted
and unmourned by any. I would frequently wish
that I had succeeded in taking my w; etched life when
I was seeking to do so. I would say to myself: " It
would have been much better for me, and for all con-
cerned. I am growing worse and worse every day, and
I am such a torment to my relatives and friends that
life is not very desirable to them, and therefore they
have no difficulty in getting the consent of their
minds to go into the war, for they would about as soon
die as to live and be tormented by me.
CHAPTER XV. ^
With the last chapter the subject of this memoir
closed his writings on the topic of this work.
The causes for this liave been mentioned in the in-
troductory. The outlay necessary to have the work
published, and the general depressed condition of the
country at the time, (1866 and 1867,) with his own
limited means, are the reasons. At this point the
reader is no doubt filled with sympathy and sorrow
for the afflicted man. So ra{)idly had he arisen from
the little farm boy, faithful and obedient to his parents,
affectionate and kind to liis brothers and sisters, and
genial to all, to the youth of twenty or twenty-two
years, taking a noble and worthy stand in school, in
society, in church, in the neighborhood prayer meet-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 207
ing prompt and active — everywhere, exhibiting a de-
gree of zeal, of earnestness, of spirituality and decision
of character whichpointed with the force of the index
hand to the part he was to act in life. How the bosom
swells with emotion when we behold him in the re-
vival meeting but a timid youth ; time and time again
the aged minister, exhausted with labor, calls upon
his brethren to know if there is not one man at least
in the congregation who will help him to pray for
mourning souls. There sat many who had long had
their names enrolled upon the church book, who would
perhaps boast of the years they had been in the ser-
vice of God, of their faithfulness to attend conference
days and other religious occasions, opening not their
mouths.
It was not the custom of those days with the aver-
age church member to be very active and take part in
religious exercises. The aged man fixes his pitiful eye
upon a modest looking youth down the aisle, address-
ing him by name, says : " Brother Olive, won't you
pray for these penitents?"
It was not his nature to resist duty when he felt it
impressed upon him. He falls upon his knees and
pours out his soul to God in behalf of saint and sin-
ner. The earnestness of this youthful effort can well
be imagined, and when we are told of the feeling
awakened we are not surprised. When we follow him
on through his efforts to obtain an education, and wit-
ness the sacrifices he made, against the opinion of
many of his friends and acquaintances; not that he
might make preparation for the ministry, for his aim
208 The Life and Times of
was only to fit himself for the duties of an active citi-
zen. When we witness such demonstrations, we are
led to the truths that " A man's heart deviseth his
way, but the Lord directeth his step." He ever be-
lieved in a Divine call to the ministry, and not until
this duty rested upon him with great weight did he
enter the work.
For five years we see him as a licentiate, most of
his Sabbaths filled with appointments, and a portion
of his time serving as pastor of some churches, unwil-
ling to travel faster than he had strength. He did not
consent to ordination till 1847. From this time to
1860, a period of thirteen years, we see him a most
active and successful preacher and pastor, laboring
mainly within a circle of twenty-five miles around his
home.
During this entire time he had four regular charges,
preached many funerals on fifth Sundays and during
the week, performed the marriage ceremony on many
occasions, and paid a great many family visits among
his friends and congregations, enjoying as high a de-
gree of love and confidence among his acquaintances
as perhaps any man ever did or ever will. Amidst
such success he was not vain or over self-confident.
No man ever bore success and prosperity better. His
estimate of the things of this life was not improperly
formed. He appeared to be reconciled to the provi-
dences of God, and taught his brethren to so live. See-
ing his labors highly blessed, and having witnessed
in some degree the fulfillment of his youthful desires,
Rev. Johnson Olive. 209
to be useful in his day and generation, his life during
this period indicated much real happiness.
To those who were old enough to recollect, a period
just before the war between the States was noted for
religious revivals throughout many States of the
Union. Many people have since regarded this as one
of the special providences of God in offering salvation
to those who were so soon to lie slain in war. Many
who read this book will recollect the efforts of Johnson
Olive during this season of revivals. He became fully
imbued with the revival spirit. He was in the full
bloom of manhood, forty-two years of age, at the ze-
nith of his intellectual faculties. His voice was strong,
musical and clear. The universal confidence he en-
joyed gave him great advantage in his work. He
preached with a power seldom equalled and rarely
surpassed for good effect. We ourselves were young,
yet some of the scenes were so indellibly engraven
upon our mind that time will never efface them. We
see him now as he is closing his discourse, descending
from the stand, his countenance all aglow with earn-
estness, love and tenderness; his voice reaching its
highest key becomes slightly musical. As he treats of
sin, righteousness, and a judgment to cyme, and holds
up as a sacrifice for sin and a mediator for man the
crucified Lord, every heart becomes softened, sinners
go by tens and by scores to the anxious seat ; Chris-
tians become aroused ; fear and shame are lost, and
all in some way join in the work.
It was not unusual to continue these meetings for
two weeks or more. Sometimes from forty to sixty
210 The Life and Times of
penitents were seen in the altar at a time. Ten to
fifteen conversions would occur during some days. At
the close of the meetings, or soon thereafter, great
numbers would unite with the church and go down
into the water to be buried with Christ in baptism.
There may be something of youthful fancy con-
nected with those times. Paternal affection may make
the work appear more grand, but to me these have
ever been regarded as gracious seasons, the like of
which I have not since witnessed.
We have in mind many who perished in battle far
away from home and earthly friends, whose conver-
sion and baptism we witnessed. The lives of many
others were spared, and they have grown up to be
men and women of great usefulness in the church and
in society.
Who then could think that in so short a time they
could see one whose life had been so signally blessed,
in the sloughs of despond, and in the dungeons of de-
spair, asking : " Where shall I find the face of my
God, and realize again His supporting grace?"
We need not in this introductory to his subsequent
life, rehearse this portion of his life, as by far the
greater portions of his own writings are devoted to
this period of time, wherein he has dealt frankly with
the reader, and honest between himself and his God,
giving a minute account of his trials and temptations
through this dark period. We therefore leave the
reader to ponder and decide for himself or herself as
to his true condition, its causes, its designs, and its
Rev. Johnson Olive. 211
effects. Suffice it to say, no one can ever know what
bis sufferings were.
Those of us who saw him and were much with him,
have but a faint idea of what they really were. He
was certainly a most miserable man. The spiritual
part of this man, which had but recently shined so
brilliantly, now lay dormant.
It has been a matter of ^reat rejoicing that this soul
was not continued in darkness, and that he was again
permitted to see and feel the light of God's counte-
nance. We are truly glad that he lived to see these
dark clouds all disperse, and to return to his chosen
work, and spend twenty years more of active life in
the ministry, wherein he shewed much ripeness and
mellowness of soul.
" Be still sad heart and cease repining,
Behind the cloud the sun's still shining."
CHAPTER XVI. ^
We are pleased to be able to follow him out of the
dark and dreary way and see him again cheerful,
hopeful and happy, laboring with a zeal and earnest-
ness rarely witnessed in one of his age.
We now proceed to take up the subject where father
left off, and follow him briefly through the remaining
twenty-two years of his life. As stated by him, the
the first evidences of this strange condition began to
212 The Life and Times of
show themselves in 1860. In the early part of 1861,
at the solicitation of friends and relatives, the family
moved temporarily to the western part of Wake county,
in the neighborhood of his relatives and life long ac-
quaintances. Finding these associations to afford lit-
tle or no relief, the advantages of living at their own
home led to a return in 1862, to the south-western
portion of the county, where they had located in 1859.
The return to his former home was apparently at-
tended [with good results to father. He was not so
much in company, was not asked so many questions,
did not see so many places and faces to remind him
of the past, and consequently became more quiet, yet
he was far from being natural in either appearance or
manners. He bore about him all this while the ap-
pearance of a lost, ruined, undone man. He took
some interest in farm work, and in domestic affairs.
His advice, directions and instructions were as good
as ever. He showed very little inclination to talk, but
read secular papers and war news with great eager-
ness, as he did also letters addressed to himself or
members of his family from relatives and friends then
in the army. His recovery was so gradual that it is
hard to tell where it began or at what time he was
fully restored.
During the year 1863 he appeared like one becom-
ing reconciled to his doom ; he was more natural and
better composed than he had been, still insisting, how-
ever, that he was an unregenerated man — a stranger
to grace, having the form of godliness, but not the
spirit. He never for a moment felt that he had done
Rev. Johnson Olive. 213
so willfully or maliciously, but through mistake. He
often expressed it that he had " caught at the substance,
missing it, had caught the shadow." Hope was gone,
faith as to his one chance for salvation was dead — the
face of God was hidden ; the heavens above were
covered over as brass, and no where could he find God.
He desired to repent, turn to and follow God, but
every avenue was to him closed. He did not question
the goodness and power of Jehovah ; he should have
been more particular in weighing the impressions he
had, that while he had acted innocently it was an
awful mistake, and carried with it such terrible conse-
quences — fifteen or twenty years of false service — and
the more to be deplored because of the success of that
course, and the great numbers that had been deceived
thereby.
These were some of his calm, cool and deliberate
reasonings during the period of his gradual improve-
ment. Nothing could be said to give him relief. In
truth, he was rather too well posted for those who un-
dertook to talk with and console him. He had almost
every occurrence and circumstance in the Bible bear-
ing upon what he held to be his case, as familiar as
the alphabet. And thus many who came to see him,
hearing that he was insane, would return saying,
*' crazy! he has too much sense — more than he ever
had. He has done nothing for the past two or three
years but study, and he knows it all.^'
We were sometimes astonished during this period
of time to know how well he was posted upon the
events of the war then going on, even from its begin-
214 The Life and Times of
ning down to the time. At times he would momen-
tarily lose sight of his own case, and talk with some
degree of freedom upon war topics, but as soon as he
came to a close of what he had to say, his countenance
grew sad, he would heave a deep sigh, and show signs
of trouble in his soul.
It was during this year (1863), that his eldest son, J.
A. Olive, aged about eighteen years, died. From his
childhood he had been what is usually termed. a rude
boy. Many who will read this book will well remem-
ber him and some of his early traits of character, not
mean, vulgar or low, but appeared to think he had
come into this world to have a good time. Afflicted
children and such boys as he, always draw from their
parents an unusual amount of care, solicitation and
concern ; consequently, we sometimes conclude they
naturally have a more tender feeling towards them.
As this son grew older he made a profession of re-
ligion, connected himself with the church, and soon
began to show signs of usefulness in life. Up to this
time he had been quite robust and active, but during
this year severe pains in the legs and back began to
trouble him. Late in the fall he ceased to gO from
home in consequence of weakness. His health con-
tinued to decline, till at length he took to bed. Father
had watched his case with deep solicitude, had done
for him all that physic and good attention could pos-
sibly do, all without material effect.
At last it became evident the son must die. The
evening of his death will long be remembered by those
present. It was on a cold December day, the sun fast
Rev. Johnson Olive. 215
lowering behind the western horizon, the father,
mother, brothens and sister, with a few neighbors, were
gathered about the bed of the sick young man. Life
is fast ebbing away; he realizes he is dying; with
some feeling, but much deliberation, he holds out his
hand and begins to utter the solemn words, " good-
bye, good bye," first to his parents, then to brothers,
sisters and friends — "good-bye — I am gone — meet me
in heaven." He then requested all to pray for him ;
turning h's dying eyes to his father with an expres-
sion of deep earnestness, says "Father, pray for me —
pray for me."
I had never before so fully realized what was the
true state of father's soul during this period. Father's
face bore the deepest expressions of agony, yet it was
fixed and unmoved ; no occasion was more calculated
to awaken sympathy for the afflicted father than this.
He was sitting with his body slightly turned from the
face of his dying boy, his head slightly inclined, his
eyes resting upon the floor, gave a hesitating nod,
lowered his head to his hand, heaved a deep sigh, and
remained in this position for some time. What his
feelings were he never told ; they were surely horri-
ble. The dying son then calls to him a younger
brother, embraces him and bids him be a good boy,
love and obey his mother, and in a few moments his
spirit took its flight from the body, and there lay be-
fore us the lifeless form.
The father bore this bereavement with apparent res-
ignation ; gave directions as to his burial, funeral, &c.
On the arrival of the minister he gave instructions to
216 The Life and Times of
a son to place a table, a Bible and some water in order
near the door for the preacher. This the son readily
did, feeling that his father ought to know what kind
of conveniences and comforts were necessary on funeral
occasions.
The Rev. P. W. Dowd was invited, by suggestions of
the father, to preach the funeral sermon. Sickness
having prevented his attendance, Rev. J. W. F. Rogers,
by request, at the appointed hour, proceeded to per-
form this service. His acquaintance with the deceased
youth from childhood, being present on the occasion
of his professing faith in Christ, and the resignation
with which he bore his afflictions, as signified by quo-
tations from the Word of God, furnished the minister
topics for some very cheering and consoling thoughts.
Afflictions, though they seem severe, often carry in
their wake blessings in disguise. We believe it was
so here. Three children had died within the space of
about three years. An infant son, a daughter, and the
young man of whom we have been writing. For all
of them the father entertained the brightest hopes of
heavenly joy. The death of his daughter, and the
scenes of her last hours w^ere yet fresh in his memory.
How different were his feelings on that occasion from
what they were upon the present! He well remem-
bered it. It was at night, the younger members of the
family had retired, when death made its approach;
a message is sent to their rooms saying: ''Sarah is
dying; come and see her for the last time." On reach-
ing her bedside she had her hands uplifted in a state
of rejoicing, bidding those who stood around to
Rev. Johnson Olive. / 217
"Look! look! Oh! look!!" her father and mother
close by her side. Turning to her father she said in
tender accents: "Pa, come and go with me." How
beautifully were these words uttered ! And how sweet
was the reply : *' Dear daughter, pa cannot go with
you now, but he will soon come — yes, pa will soon
come to join you. Sarah, lean upon the strong arm
of your Heavenly Father; trust your Saviour; He
has promised to be with you in every trial, and in the
last and trying hour of death not to forsake you."
A pleasant smile lit up her face; and with her eyes
directed heavenward she quietly drew her expiring
breath.
The deep anguish of soul which had previously
manifested itself while meditating upon or talking of
his own spiritual state had by this time greatly abated.
He spoke deliberately and calmly of his case,*desired
above everything else to be a godly man, loved that
which was pure and holy, and condemned that which
was evil. He sometimes spoke of his deceased chil-
dren with tenderness and affection. He was glad of
the assurance he had that they had gone to a better
world than this. It softened his heart much to think
upon this subject and we might justly conclude that
here the first rays of light began to enter the dark
chambers of this wretched soul, yet he was still with-
out hope and felt that had God taken him instead of
his children that he should have been eternally lost.
1864 found him thus situated. He read papers, let-
ters, &c., but was rarely ever seen with a book. We
have no evidence that he had read a single verse in
10
218 The Life and Times of
the Bible since the first year of his afflictions. We
feel warranted in saying he had not many times at-
tempted to engage in secret prayer for a period of
nearly three years. He described these efforts as being
without unction of soul, and every avenue to his God
closed — he had been cut off from all communion with
God. There were evidences that during this period he
sometimes tried to engage in secret prayer, but with
very little satisfaction or relief. He spent most of the
time in the early part of this year aiding and direct-
ing in his farm work. Sometimes working for hours
in perfect silence, seemingly unmindful of the hard-
ships he endured, manifesting but little concern about
water or diet. Always possessed of a wiry constitu-
tion and great powers of endurance, he now appears
to possess a double portion of these gifts. Work,
manual labor,! brought temporary relief to his troubled
soul, and when temporary alleviation can be obtained
all the powers rebound and gain strength.
It proved so in this case, and each week showed im-
provement from the various influences now at work.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 219
CHAPTER XVII.i/
It was during this year that the great battles around
Petersburg, Va., were fought between the armies of the
Union and the Confederacy. In one of these engage-
ments his brother, Calvin Olive, of whomhe has made
mention, was mortally wounded. News came to him
very soon of this occurrence, and as there were few
men now at home, his relatives, among others his
mother, was anxious that he should go to see his dying
brother. He offered very little resistance, but pro-
ceeded at once to make the necessary arrangements,
and in a short time was off for Petersburg.
On reaching the city, he soon met with a number of
acquaintances among the soldiers, many of whom had
heard him preach in former days, and some who had
dated their hopes of eternal life to occasions inti-
mately connected with his past history. He was fa-
miliar with the lives of many who called to see him.
His acquaintances everywhere had heard of his
troubles. His presence in the camp was a great sur-
prise, and all who knew him wished to see him. Much
gladness was manifested on the part of his acquaint-
ances in camp at his recovery. They soon saw, how-
ever, that all was not well. He knew his business as
well as any one, knew for what he had come. No de-
ficiency in hi& conduct indicated, y^ he looks sad,
his features appear fixed and unchanged, he talks
readily, is very well informed upon both home and
army matters, but he is not the cheerful, hopeful man
220 The Life and Times of
we once« met. He makes enquiry for his wounded
brother, and finds such confusion now existing in con-
sequence of the recent heavy engagements of the two
armies that it is with difficulty that he can learn any-
thing definite about him, further than that he 'was con-
sidered nfortally wounded in the engagement a few days
before. In company with some of his soldier friends
he searches some of the burial gi'ounds of the hospitals
where he was supposed to have been carried. Finding
no trace of him, he decides to spend the night here
and make renewed search on the morrow. He is asked
by some of his acquaintances if he cannot preach in
the camp at night; with an expression of deep solem-
nity he replies: "I could preach, but I don't think
you will ever hear me preach again."
He learns on more diligent enquiry at the Brigade
Hospital next day that his brother had been trans-
ferred to Winder Hospital, Richm nd, Va. He is soon
on board the train to this point, reaches there in due
time, and soon finds his wounded brother. His arrival
was unexpected to his brother, and doubtless no one
on earth, save his mother, could have been a more
welcomed visitor. Having placed his life upon the
altar of his country to be sacrificed for her honor, if
need be, he had passed through two years or more of
hard service, such as is experienced by the soldier who
never seeks to shirk or evade a duty, however trivial,
or however arduous, which had accustomed bim to
sights of suffering and pain. So often upon the field
of battle, amid the roar of cannon and rattle of mus-
ketry had he heard the shriek and moans of his com-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 221
rades, that he was prepared to meet this ordeal with a
degree of courage and fortitude truly remarkable.
He makes many anxious enquiries about friends
and loved ones at home, and tells his visiting brother
that he shall never meet them again; that he is fast
dying, but that he could die freely and willingly ; that
he was dying in defence of his country, in a cause that
he had ever thought just.
Whether introduced by father or no I cannot say ;
however, the conversation now turned upon his spir-
itual condition, his hopes beyond the Jordan of death.
The dying brother stated that the way was not as clear
as he could wish, yet he felt no particular dread of
death, or fears as to his future state; the hope he had
realized in former days had not been cultivated as it
had been his privilege to do, still he had hope beyond
the grave.
Father remained here near one week, and wrote
some letters .home during the time, giving the particu-
lars of his brother's wound and condition generally.
Ever a good nurse, he did not fail upon this occasion
to render every attention necessary for the peace and
comfort of his dying brother. He continued to sink,
till at last the soul took its flight from the body.
The remains were carefully provided for by the hos-
pital authorities, aided by the surviving brother, and
deposited in the hospital burying ground, with a plain
small slab set up by the brother to denote his name,
command, &c. He often spoke of the kindness shown
himself and wounded brother by the authorities and
visitors to the hospital during his stay. Nothing
222 The Life and Times op
passed his notice, and many incidents here witnessed
were often afterwards referred to in conversation.
The burial of his brotlier being over, father now
sets out for home. At this period of the war travel
was attended with much difficulty, especially in going
from the army. Private citizens must needs have a
pass; he goes to an acquaintance in a neighboring
hospital, with whom he had mingled some during his
stay, tells him the circumstances, remarking to him
that he knew his standing; he did not wish to prac-
tice any wrong ; that he had not been preaching any
for about four years; I may never preach again. To
this his friend readily replied there would be no diffi-
culty about the pass.
Upon thestatementof this friend the pass was readily
obtained and he makes his way to the railroad station
to take the train for home.
I am not a Freemason. Father belonged to this
order. During his affliction he had ceased to lay any
claim to the privileges of the order. He revealed the
fact on his return from this trip that he had met with
members of this order, strangers to him, who had
rendered him valuable aid.
On reaching the station another difficulty confronts
him. Railroad coaches are scarce, and the only one
he sees going out on the line he is to travel has a
guard stationed at the entrance, who informs him that
no one can get on board this car except he is in charge
of a lady. He has no lady with him, and what shall
be done? He saunters to an fro awhile, awaiting de-
velopments. Soon he espies a tall, stout man in soldier's
Rev. Johnson Olive. 223
dress, wearing about hiin the marks of camp life,
moving in the direction of the guarded coach. He
thinks he has found his man, and moves in the direc-
tion of the car. On approaching the same, he finds a
Georgia soldier with furlough in hand remonstrating
with the guard, first gently then positively: "I have
been in this war four years; I have not seen my people
during this time; I have a furlough and I am going
home, and am going on this train; I have heard the
musket and the cannon, and I've smelt powder, too
(with an oath) ; I know how to behave myself in the
company of ladies as well as any body." Father draws
nearer the soldier with the furlough : " You can open
this door or I'll burst it down, I don't care which —
with a look of vengeance.'"
By this time the door was opened, the soldier passed
in, and father just after him. The effect of the will
power and decision manifested by this man here and
the other traits of character exhibited as they journeyed
along together in their travel, made quite an impres-
sion upon his accidental companion and beneficiary.
In his after life, he often alluded to the Georgia soldier
he met in Richmond.
224 The Life and Times of
CHAPTER XVIII.
The incidents of this visit to the army and to his
brother, viewing personally many things of which he
had heard and read, made vivid and lasting impres-
sions upon the mind of father.
Of all that was ever done nothing seemed to be at-
tended with better results. This more than anything
else furnished him with a new field of thought, and
those subjects of war, which were the sum and sub-
stance of almost every conversation, now had new
luster bestowed upon them.
He returned home very much resigned to the death
of his brother, and with many interesting accounts of
what he had seen and heard. From this time his re-
covefy was more perceptible. These occasions had the
effect to bring him into more close and intimate re-
lation with the people, and it was not until the latter
part of this year (1864), that life and animation began
to reappear in his countenance. He talked now with
something like the spirit and freedom that he had
formerly done; confidence and' hope were being grad-
ually restored. He wrote and had published a brief
but intieresting account of his brother's death ; also
wrote and had published about the same time an ac-
count of the death of J. B. S. Rogers, a nephew of his
by marriage, who died at Raleigh of disease contracted
in the army. The writing of these notices set to work
powers of his mind that had long been dormant;
sympathy becomes quickened. He had from early
Rev. Johnson Olive. 225
life exhibited some poetical genius. His rhyme was
not that of a Milton, a Byron or a Pope, but often
glowed with beauty and knowledge of the inner
movings of the soul.
While teaching schol in former years he sometimes
prepared speeches for his students in rhyme that were
really interesting and amusing. Also his thoughts
upon some Scripture subjects were sometimes reduced
to rhyme. We will here introduce a few of his poems,
to illustrate what we have just said, and more espe-
cially feeling that anything written by him just at
this period will be best appreciated here. The follow-
ing was written some years prior to the war between
the States:
THE THIRD OF MATTHEW.
Go read the third of Matthew,
And read that chapter through.
It is a guide to christians.
And tells them what to do.
Those days came John the Baptist,
Into the wilderness,
A preacher of the Gospel
Of Jesus and His righteousness.
Then out came the Pharisee,
For to baptized be,
But John forbade him, saying,
*' Repentance bring with thee;
Then I'll baptize you freely.
When you confess your sins,
And own your Lord and Master,
And tall how vile you've been."
226 The Life and Times op
When John was preaching Jesus
On that atoning land,
He saw the blessed Saviour,
And said, " Behold the man !"
Appointed by the Father
To take away your sins,
Then you believe in Jesus,
And own Him for your Kinsf.
Then came our blessed Saviour,
For to baptized be.
And was baptized in Jordan,
The Scriptures read to me.
He came up out of the water,
The Spirit from above
Descends and lights on Jesus,
In likeness of a dove.
The Heavens they were opened,
As you may plainl^^ see,
A witness to all people —
'Twas right that it should be.
A voice from heaven proclaiming,
" This is my only Son,
I am well pleased with Jesus
In all that He has done."
Come you that say your Jesus,
And prove you love the Lord,
By following His example.
Recorded in His Word.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 227
Take up your crosses freely,
.As Jesus did for you ;
I leave you all with Jesus,
And bid you all adieu.
The following lines were written upon the death
of his brother, Calvin Olive, soon after his return
from Richmond, in 1861, which has been explained
elsewhere. As stated by father heretofore, he did not
agree with his brother fully as. to the course to be pur-
sued by the South, yet all who knew Calvin Olive re-
spected his views for honesty and sincerity :
When first secession's tune was played
It found a lodging in his heart;
He to its music reverence paid,
And from its truths did not depart.
'Tis true he heard another tune
Which sounded through his native State,
It said, ' ' Secession is too soon,
The people ought to watch and wait."
His mind was firm, his heart was true ;
How did his noble nature burn
To see his native State pursue
The painful lesson she did learn.
When Lincoln's proclamation first
Called out for Southern men and means
To crush secession in the dust,
Or fill the South with bloody scenes,
'Twas then his eye was seen to flash ;
His heart lit up into a flame ;
He from his peaceful home did dash,
And to his country gave his name.
228 The Life and Times of
He said, " Secession is my name,
In freedom's land I drew my breath,
I'm ready to defend the same;
Give me my rights or give me death."
He's now done all that he could do ;
He gave his precious soul to God,
He lies amidst the brave and true,
Beneath the cold and silent clod.
At the outbreak of the war two noble-hearted boys
and brothers, living in the city of Raleigh, enlisted in
' the cause of their country. They had distinguished
themselves alike at home and in the camp for kind-
ness and urbanity. After passing through many hard-
ships, they both fell mortally wounded in the same
battle, from which they soon died. So much afiPected
were their neighbors, who had received so many acts
of kindness at their hands, over the sad occurrence,
that one of them asked father to write some lines of
verse suited to the occasion. These boys were the
sons of M. B. Royster.
Two brothers lived in Raleigh town,
Their hearts were kind and true,
Not many boys could here be found
To act as they would do.
They used to be so very kind,
(And they were loving, too),
Their like I fear you'll never find.
Such friendly acts to do.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 229
These brothers heard their country's call
For men to meet the foe ;
They left their peaceful homes and all,
And to the war did go.
They stood up bravely for the cause,
And fought for victory's mead,
(But let their friends here stop and pause,
^ It is for them they bleed).
These brothers died of wounds received
Upon the battle-field.
And many friendly hearts were grieved
To hear their fates were sealed.
We miss them here in Raleigh town ;
With them we used to play.
But cruel war has mowed them down
Amidst their blooming day.
For them our tears were freely shed,
For them we wept and grieved;
Although for months they have been dead
Our hearts are not relieved.
We sometimes wish them back again.
But know it cannot be.
For those in cruel battle slain
We never more shall see.
They've now done all that they could do —
Their country tried to save ;
We kno\V they were both brave and true —
?hey fill a patriot's grave.
X.
The death of J. B. S. Rogers fell with such weight
lapon his parents, especially his mother, all of whom
230 The Life and Times of
were warm friends of father, that he was moved to
write the following lines, in the summer of 1864:
"The following lines were written for a mother who lost a
son in the army, and was mourning her loss. They will fit
the case of many others :
Ye mothers of this sunny land
Admit me to your mourning band ;
Your hearts are grieved, and so are mine ;
Where shall we go relief to find ?
A mother's love there's none can tell,
But you, dear sisters, know it well;
Your sons are slain and mine is dead,
Our peace and comfort now are fled.
I had one only darling son,
(Perhaps you might have more than one),
Our hearts are rent and torn with grief;
Where shall we go to find relief ?
My loving child, my noble son,
He fought and many victories won ;
The cannon roared, the battle raged,
And there our boys were all engaged.
In deadly strife they met the foe,
And gave or felt the fatal blow ;
Some were left to tell the tale.
And others found cold, dead and pale.
I stood beside my dying son
When all his work on earth was done ;
My heart was like the troubled sea,
I cried, "Would God I'd died for thee !"
Rev. Johnson Olive. 231
Dear sisters, shall we ever rise
From sorrow, grief and tearful eyes ?
Can we not look above and find
Some mitigation to the mind ?
He was my loving, darling child;
His nature calm, his temper mild;
He lies beneath the silent clod,
And I must hope and trust in God.
I long to see the day roll 'round
When he shall rise up from the ground.
And I again shall see his face
In that bright world of God's free grace.
And now dear mourning friends, adieu,
I feel that what I've said is true ;
Come raise your hearts in faithful prayer
That we may meet together there."
Toward the close of the year 1864, as the cloud of
defeat began to darken over Southern homes, the sit-
uation was truly one of sadness; neighbors, fathers,
husbands, sons and brothers dead, the cause for which
so much had been sacrificed lost; the future dark and
uncertain. Under this feeling he bases a lamentation
upon the 15th verse 31st chapter of Jeremiah.
LAMENTATION OF THE SOUTHERN LAND.
Where are all our brave defenders,
Where are all our veteran soldiers,
Where are now our valiant generals
Who have fought for Southern homes ?
232 The Life and Times of
Many fell amidst the carnage,
Some were maimed and some were wounded,
Others died of wounds or sickness
Far away from home and friends.
{Lamentation — A voice was heard, &c.)
Where are now our sons and husbands.
Where are now our mothers' children,
Where are brothers, where are fathers.
Scattered o'er this sunny land ?
Some are now in far-off prisons.
Others died and have been buried ;
All have felt the fiery ordeal ;
Few have come to home and friends.
Where are now their wives and sisters.
Where are all those helpless widows,
Where are now those weeping mothers,
Scattered o'er this sunny land ?
Some are hungry, some are begging,
Some with broken hearts are dying ;
All have felt the fiery ordeal
Of this dreadful scourge of war.
{Lamentation.)
Where are now those orphan children
Who have lost their loving fathers ?
They are looking for protection
From the hands of friends and kin.
Some are crying, some are starving.
Others naked or are dying;
They have felt the fiery ordeal
Of this dreadful scourge of war.
{Lamentation.)
Eev. Johnson Olive. 233
There are other compositions of like nature to those
here, given, but our taste and good judgment may
already be questioned for bringing such material into
this work as a part of the record of a minister's life.
They were not written for this work — indeed only one
or two of them were written for the press. Neither
were they written, save the first one given, during his
active ministry. They were his first open and public
declarations, as his soul began to be liberated from a
state of darkness and oppressive bondage for a period
of four years; for this reason they are here given. At
the time they were written they read well, and were
appropriately suited to the purposes they were inten-
ded to meet. His neighbors and friends listened to
him as he read with deep interest. They struck a
popular cord in the hearts of his people at that time,
but like many other things in this life, needs to be
realized to be appreciated.
While it is clear from the reading of these contribu-
tions that he was in the enjoyment of some degree of
spiritual light, he was still far from realizing fully his
acceptance with God. He did not yet manifest any
special interest in religious matters; did not wish to
go to church or religious gatherings, and preferred not
to talk upon religious subjects; yet had lost none of
his desire to be a good man, and had no more sympa-
thy with wickedness or evil doing than in his bright-
est days. When asked about preaching, he expressed
as his opinion that he should never preach again.
His soul during this period was evidently not bur-
dened with divine messages to the people.
234 » The Life and Times op
The able-bodied men of the South had about all
been gathered into service of some nature. The call
for the youths of seventeen years of age was now made.
A short while after this call his oldest son then living
became of age. He went to the school-house in an
adjoining neighborhood where this son was attending
school about the first of November, and informed him
that he had been enrolled for service, and though
young, he was now amenable to the laws of his
country, and that the enrolling officers would allow
him to select his own command. Many sad faces fol-
lowed the father and son as they walked away from
the school house. The words of the father were cheer-
ing — advising his son to go forward and meet his duty
as a man.
The son was the recipient of many kind letters and
much good advice from the father during the six
months spent in service.
Father spent the fall of 1864 and the early part of
1865 around home, visiting some among his relatives
and neighbors, writing some letters to friends and rel-
atives in the army, and reading much of the news of
the times we were then passing through.
By this time he had assumed full control of his
farm work and domestic cares. A fine crop was pro-
duced during the year 1884, and his supply of the
necessaries of life were abundant for one of his means.
His stock were never in better trim. "Splendor
usually goeth before a storm." It proved so in this
case, for early in March, Sherman, at the head of the
Union forces in the South, had completed his famous
Rev. Johnson Olive. 235
march to the sea, and was turning his course through
North Carolina, in the direction of Raleigh, carrying
destruction of produce, fowls, and stock of every kind
in his wake. Here (mainly in Durham and Wake
counties) the Sherman army, composed of about 65,000
men, encamped for a space of two or three weeks, while
Johnson's army was about Greensboro. The cause of
this halting of the two armies was the peace negotia-
tions that were going on between Sherman and John-
son, near Durham, N. C, which resulted on the 18th
of April in the surrender of the forces under Johnson.
This portion of the country had suffered some by
the occasional ravages of the Confederate forces which
had just passed through, but the dregs of the cup were
fully tested when the Sherman army arrived. The
14th and 20th army corps were stationed during this
time in the neighborhood of Holly Springs, Apex,
Morrisville, and Alford's Mill, Wake county. They
were noted for their general bad behavior, and their
general conduct here was not an exception. However,
it is but just to say, that among them were many very
noble and worthy men, but some as low and mean as
the world ever knew. The only rest to be obtained
by any family in this section during this time was at
night. From sun rise to sun set they crowded every
house, every road, lane, yard and field, without word
and without ceremony, taking everything they de-
sired, from a common brass pin to a horse or wagon,
plundering most uncivilly every drawer, private room
and outhouse all through the live long day, killing
fine cattle (sometimes for a mess of steak), and leaving
236 The Life and Times op
the remainder to waste. Such are some of the hard-
ships of cruel war.
Father was unusually quiet under all this procedure.
We had been informed of their manner of dealing,
and were prepared to meet it. This consolation we
found in this hour of trial may have been due in part
to some things we knew and they did not. A few
days previous to their arrival, father, by the aid of an
old family servant and other members of his family,
had succeeded in storing away a good share of the
bountiful crop of corn, wheat, pork, &c., produced
during the year 1864. He must have put into prac-
tice some of the lessons he learned in early life from
climbing and hide and seek. The skill he acquired
in climbing, (which up to this time had not as we
could see availed him much), now proved of real profit.
(So much for learning all that is useful in early life,
for it will somewhere along the journey of life be of
value to us).
In different directions from his house he took choice
lots of bacon, and ascending forty or fifty feet high
into the tops of trees, he would, with cords anJ splits,
there fasten his prize. Strange to say, not a piece was
lost, although the enemy infested every place, and
even butchered some live hogs under one tree where
bacon was hanging over head. (It may be they were
not accustomed to look up for blessings).
The corn and other produce was taken to swamps
and to the newly cleared field, and stored away in
leaves and bags under the brush, and amidst the thick
Rev. Johnson Olive. 237
bushes. Most of this was lost or wasted, but the effort
did not prove entirely in vain.
We should not feel that we had fairly represented
father here were we to close this account without
making mention of an humble individual, but faith-
ful friend of father and his family through this period
that brought to severe test the colored race. This
individual was George, a colored man whom he
had owned for about eight years. He remained true
and faithful to the family, even after the arrival of
the army whose presence meant his freedom. He had
aided in hiding almost everything, and we have every
reason for believing that he kept the secret committed
to him sacred and profound, notwithstanding the per-
suasions, entreaties and threats of the marauders.
So great was his attachment to his old master that
he remained for sometime with the family, and ren-
dered valuable aid in getting together their scattered
effects, and in making another start for life.
During this stay of the army described, a guard was
asked for, but given too late to save the effects of the
family. It proved, however, a great relief, as no ad-
mittance into dwelling houses or those adjacent was
afterwards allowed. Also disorders about the prem-
ises were strictly looked after. The guard were bitter
in their denunciation of these vile ones, yet from con-
tests that sometimes arose it was plain that it was only
their turn to be orderly and uphold the dignity of
army discipline.
Father found some friends among this dreaded foe.
A man of Dutch decent, called by his comrades
238 The Life and Times of
" Dutch," belonging to the 14th corps, and in charge
of a train of wagons, called to get some forage upon
the early advent of the army, and being a generous,
noble-hearted man, acted most kindly toward the sub-
jugated ones He had here met one who could appre-
ciate true manhood, and a very warm attachment here
sprang up between them. He promised to render
whatever aid he could while among us.
A few days after the departure of the army from the
neighborhood, being without horses, father went to the
City of Raleigh, hoping to find some that would at
least enable him to make a crop. After reaching the
city, and wandering for a time in search of horses, and
finding none that he could get, and almost ready to
return home as he came, he very unexpectedly came
up with his friend " Dutch." He soon made his wishes"
known, when " Dutch " drops his work, proceeds with
him a short distance, and points out to him two young
horses, about. three years old, much jaded and badly
scarred, and with all very poor. ''Dutch" tells him
this is the best he can do ; that his coming was rather
late, but these are young, take them home and treat
them well, and they will make you good horses.
He bade "Dutch" a hearty good-bye, and never
again saw or heard from him. I trust they will meet
in heaven.
How much good we can sometimes do by little acts
of kindness; let us not withhold them. Father ever
spoke of " Dutch " with warmth .and affection.
These little broken-down colts thrived rapidly, and
enabled us to make a fair crop during the year 1865'
Rev. Johnson Olive. 239
and for many years were great favorites in the family.
We will never forget the Pennsylvania Dutchman.
It is now May, and but little farm work done; one
month at least l^ost out of the farms this year in the
section named. If there ever was an occasion for
gloom it appeared to be now upon us. Yet we are
never in this life without numerous mercies for which
to feel thankful. The evils of this life are as the
cloudy days ; the mercies are as the fair days. Let us
cultivate the disposition to look more at God's smiles
and less at His frowns ; His frowns only tend to drive
us into the path of duty.
While this period found us impressed with many
unpleasant memories, we had many things to rejoice
over; we had our lands; many were permitted to ex-
change the ills of camp-life for the peaceful pursuits
of farm-life; food, though not bountiful, was whole-
some, and could be enjoyed in peace and quiet ; the
night's rest was no longer broken by the duties of the
camp, or the long-roll. Besides all this, the health of
the people was never better; the seasons were never
more favorable ; the small grain crops were all that
could be asked. The vegetable crops were never bet-
ter. Four years of war had fitted the people for the
enjo^'ment of peace and home comforts as they had
never enjoyed them before. All worked with a free,
hearty good will,, and everything to which they turned
their hands flourished. No one who passed through
these times could fail to feel that God's special provi-
dences were over the conquered States at this time.
Father took the lead in his farm work this year,
240 The Life and Times op
laboring faithfully and earnestly through the entire
season. He had said to his former servant George
that if he wished to remain with him that he would
share wdiatever food he had or might be able to have,
with him ; that he could not promise any wages, but
should the crops prove good, he would give him some-
thing. He very readily decided to remain, and the
bearing from one to the other never materially
changed.
CHAPTER XIX.
Father's condition, with some exceptions, was now
much as it had been before his troubles. He was
cheerful and hopeful, showing but Lttle sign of gloom
or despondency. Talked freely, read much, and wrote
some. His writings were mainly of a poetical nature
and directed mainly to the amusement of children.
His soul, which was fast regaining its life, must give
vent in some w^ay to what was felt within. He was
still disposed to shun religious topics, and was not free
to talk about his own spiritual condition, and ex-
pressed no desire to attend religious services. We now
concluded that his main objection to this was that he
would be pressed to take part in the exercises, which
he was yet unwilling to do. In talking upon this sub-
ject he gave all to understand that whenever he felt
improised to preach he should undertake it, but could
not before.
Rev! Johnson Olive. 241
It was now rather the conclusion of the family that
he would never again attempt to preach ; that he
would likely return to the church and live the quiet
life of a lay member the reuiainder of his days. He
was about' the sau^e man in his family that he had
formerly been, save his religious habits. He now car-
ried with him none of the deep agitation of soul that
the faithful minister sometimes exhibits while follow-
ing the theme that weighs ^him down, nor of those
sudden, quick flashes of the eye or glowing of the
dountenance when thought comes with the force and
speed of the lightning flash. These signs, which were
common to him in former days, were not now exhib-
ited. The mind and manner indicated lighter work,
and so it was when performed.
His improvement thus far brought great relief to
his family and friends. One of such genial nature
and cheerful habits, with sufficient hope to inspire all
around him, becoming silent and so living for years,
produces a feeling akin to that of death. But there
is greater relief still just ahead. He was, when him-,
self, very fond of singing, and often in former days,
while around the fireside at night, would engage in
singing some favorite hymn, or some amusing song
with a good moral and meaning, to the joy and amuse-
ment of his family. For about five years his voice
had been silent in all public exercises. Not a word
had he uttered in song since he ceased from the min-
istry, that any one had heard. Some of the poems he
had written were full of pathos, and their meaning
was best expressed in song.
11
242 The Life and Times of
He decided at length to sing one of these songs to
his family. This occasion will long be remembered.
All were gathered about the fireplace at night, the
mother engaged with the usual routine of house work
pertaining to the hour. Father brings forward one of
his poems he had just written, and after reading it,
asks his children, with a slight tremor in his voice, if
they do not wish to hear him sing it. All respond
"yes;" whereupon he proceeds to sing. The deep-
felt joy of mother and children could hardly be ex-
pressed. His voice had become impaired by disuse,
his manner was slightly embarrassed, but this act was
an indication for good ; the vacuum which had been
so long empty was filling up; he must give vent to
what he now felt within his soul.
He related to his wife a dream wdiich occurred to
him about this period, and while he did not attach
any great importance to the wanderings of the mind
in sleep, it was in harmony with the great struggles
between light and darkness that were going on in his
own mind, and added courage and strength to the
better part.
In some of the mysterious ways into which his night
thoughts led him^ he met with a huge mastiff, marked
with a fierce and angry look, intent upon destroying
everything in his pathway. He saw no way of escape;
on, on he comes most furiously. He nerves himself
up for the contest, and in a moment the dog is upon
him, and a life and death struggle ensues. He subdues
his cruel antagonist, and with one stroke of his drawn
knife cuts his throat. He saw and recognized in ihis
Rev. Johnson Olive. 243
cruel animal a type of the enemy he had been con-
tending with for the past five years. He had at last
subdued him, and whether this was from God or not
it hastened the day of his deliverance.
Here we would pause and ask if we are not too ready
to cast aside all dreams and say, "Folly, folly." God
does not forsake us when we fall asleep. Why not
some impression for good be made upon us by night
as well as by day? Who has not been perplexed and
troubled, and received some impressions in his dreams
that were of service to him in overcoming these diffi-
culties? Much evil would result in our spiritualizing
all dreams, and it is well for us not to teach that
they are all messages from God, any moi;e than that
all the meanderings of our minds in the day are mes-
sages from Him ; yet we would do well many times to
meditate upon the impressions made upon our minds
in dreams, and receive all the good we can from them.
It may sometimes be the voice of God. We think we
do not say too much when we sa}^ this. We ask par-
don for mentioning an item in our own experience
just here, that we may not be misunderstood upon this
critical point.
For some days a degree of unpleasantness had mani-
fested itself on the part of a friend toward us. This
tended to chill our feelings. One night we dreamed
our friend was dead, and in our dream we saw him
clearly surrounded by his afflicted family. The next
day he used in our hearing some unguarded remark
which we would ordinarily have felt like resenting.
At once we saw him as he had appeared to us the night
244 The Life and Times of
before; over him standing a heart-broken wife and
children. We were reminded of the short time allotted
us here, and of how soon this would be the case with
our friend, whether he lived long or short, or whether
we witnessed it or not. Under this reflection our heart
softened ; we saw the folly of harboring ill will and
bitterness, and were enabled then and there to banish
all such feelings from our heart.
Many cases equally as striking have occurred in our
history. Be not disobedient to the teachings of God,
whether by day or by night; whe^.her by His direct
providences or in the mysterious unfoldings of His
universal laws.
At this period father begins to read, talk and sing
with a degree of earnestness that had marked his
course through former years. Religious books are
fully consulted; light is daily increasing; the Bible is
his constant adviser ; he begins to realize that through-
out his past life he had been in the hands of a merciful
Father; that goodness and mercy had been following
him all the days of his life. Especially did it now ap-
pear plain to him that the hand of a merciful Father
bad been leading him for the past five years through
the deep and thick darkness that he had come. He
now realizes fully that his life had not been in his
own hands, neither in the hands of satan ; that while
satan had great power, that God had all power. The
promises of the Bible began now to appear more beau-
tiful to him than ever before. He had formerly read
and believed them; he had now tried and had proved
them ; his faith in God began to grow doubly strong ;
Rev. Johnson Olive. 245
he could now feel and realize the force of many pass-
ages of God's Word with an understanding not hith-
erto possessed. He could now say with almost the as-
surance of David: "Though I walk through the val-
ley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thy
rod and thy staff do comfort me."
God had been with him through the dark valleys
crossed by him during the years just passed. He
really felt in his heart that these chastenings had
not been in vain, but that they had accomplished that
whereunto they were sent. He felt that he could now
love and trust God as he had never done before; that
like Job, this chastisement would last him to the end
of his days. He never, from this time to the day of
his death, entertained the least idea of its repetition.
From expressions of his own, these' were now the
movings of his mind.
CHAPTER XX. ^
It is now August, 1865. The people of his acquain-
tance kept informed as to his condition. They had
not forgotten him during his absence from among
them. Many of them had visited him during his af-
flictions, and by many other ways extended their
sympathies. Some of the churches and congregations
he had formerly served sent contributions to his family
during this period, to say nothing of the many acts of
individual kindness. They all rejoiced to hear of
246 The Life and Times of
his improvement, and anxiously await the day when
he should again mingle with them as preacher and
pastor. His mother church, Shady Grove, Wake
county, had at a previous meeting invited father to
come to see them. Hearing of this he sends for the
pastor, Rev. J. C. Wilson, to come and see him, which
he does, at an early day. The relation existing be-
tween this worthy man of God and father was such as
existed between very few men. Born near the same
date, in the same community, brother's and sister's
children, in youth attending the same schools and en-
tering the ministry near the same date, they could ap-
proach each other with freedom and with confidence.
The subject is introduced. He firmly believed up
to this time, as stated by him in his own writings, that
soon after the commencement of his troubles the
church at Shady Grove withdrew fellowship from him.
He stated this to his visiting friend. Upon being as-
sured by him that such was not the case, and that the
cburch had never even had or thought of having the
case under consideration, he manifested great relief,
and promised to be with the church at their August
meeting.
They now discuss numerous subjects pertaining to
religion and the welfare of the church, wherein brother
Wilson states father manifested the same interest of
soul, freedom of speech, and soundness of judgment be
had done in former years. This visit, the message
borne, the information received were very consoling to
father.
He gave previous notice to the family of his inten-
Rkv. Johnson Olive. 247
tion to visit his church at August meeting. This was
glad news to his family and friends, and the necessary
preparation was made for the journey, not supposing,
however, that he proposed to preach, but was going of
his own accord to attend religious services. Time
soon rolled around for the August meeting.
Early on Saturday morning he is on his way to the
church, which he reaches in due time, and finds present
the pastor. Rev. J. C. Wilson, and a goodly number
of brethren and friends. It could not be expected
after so long an absence that his manner and his bear-
ing would be easy and natural, especially when he
knew how closely every one scrutinized his course;
yet he manifested a fair degree of freedom in general
conversation. The pastor preached, and there was no
more attentive listener than his visiting friend.
After services the church met in conference, and
when the usual business had been transacted, and an
opportunity offered, fatner arose and stated to the
church that for five long years he had been as one
dead; that he had passed through more than tongue
or pen could ever describe; had been lost to all hope,
and had felt that he was the meanest man on earth,
and that he had been an im poster, preaching Christ
while he himself was a stranger to grace; he never
purposed or intended to act this part, but had been
honestly mistaken, yet the evil resulting from such a
course was the same, and to him it appeared the prop-
agator of such deeds could not be held innocent, for
he should have been more particular, and made the
right start. This he stated in brief had been some of
248 The Life and Times of
his troubles. He further stated what impression he
had been under all the while relative to their with-
drawal of fellowship from him. He closed by saying
that these dark clouds had now passed from over his
head; that the light of God's countenance had again
appeared to him; that he now felt that he wished to
work in his Master's vineyard, but under existing cir-
cumstances he was unwilling to proceed until he had
submitted his case to his brethren, who he felt would
deal honestly and candidly with him. Urging them
to show him no favors in consequence of sympathy or
affection, he submits himself to their action.
There was but one sentiment among them. All
wished to see him laboring again in the great cause
he had once so zealously maintained. Accordingly
the conference adopted the following resolutions :
"Whereas, Brother Johnson Olive has been absent from
us and silent on his ministeral duties for four or five years,
laboring, as he says, under somewhat a delirious state of
mind, which seems to have measurably abated, and he calls
upon us, the church, to say what course he must pursue, or
what he shall do,
Resolved, That we recommend that brother Olive resume
his ministerial duties again as before, and exorcise in public
when and where he chpses to do so; and furthermore, we
recommend him to his former churches and to the community
generally; and we furthermore believe that there is a work
for him yet to perform,- and that the space of time that
brother Olive has-been silent from the ministry seems to be
the handiwork of Providence, and may have been to- ripen
and qualify him for that work which he has yet to perform ;
and as such we would say, in the language of our Saviour
whei; he said to Peter 'feed my sheep,' brother Olive, go and
do likewise."
Rev. Johnson Olive. 249
The conference adjourned, with an appointment for
Rev. Johnson Olive to preach on the next day, (being
Sabbath). This was satisfactory to father, and accord-
ingly he was on hand in due time on Sunday morning.
The news of what had transpired spread rapidly,
and few men could have attracted so large a crowd
with so short notice.
This appointment, as we have seen, was in the midst
of a people with whom he had mingled from his child-
hood and youth. Many in this section had heard him
from the sacred stand, the doorway or the arbor, in
former days, and desired to hear him again ; man}^
were rejoiced at his recovery and return to the minis-
try, and wished to hear and see him, and add this
token of approval. A still greater number had not
seen him during the five years just passed, and desired
merely to see him. Others were prompted by mere
idle curiosity. With all, it seldom occurs that a more
eager crowd is assembled. They were coming in early
from every direction; old men and old ladies, young
men and young ladies, middle aged and children,
some perhaps for the first time to this church. By
the time the hour for services had arrived several
hundred are present ; the house is soon filled to over-
flowing ; the doorways, the aisles, the windows are
crowded ; a number left outside taking their positions
where they might- get an occasional glimpse of the
preacher.
One striking feature of this vast crowd worthy of
remark was their dress. There were very few manu-
factories of cloth goods in the Southern States up to
250 - The Life and Times of
this time, and the people had not accumulated suffi.
cient means to purchase largely from their recent op-
ponents in war ; hence the attire of the crowd was gar-
ments that had been long out of use, or made by
mothers and daughters of material they had inge-
niously put together during the days of the war. To
their praise be it said, they had done their part well.
A factory made hat, bonnet or pair of shoes was almost
a show. An aged friend of ours had been to market
a few days before with a load of produce, and had pur-
chased himself a factory hat; we were so much struck
with its smoothe, symmetrical appearance that we got
a swap out of him next day. The preacher wears a
suit of plain, home-made cassimere, divested of all
showy accompaniments, and takes his position in the
stand with every eye upon him. A sense of this fact,
and the eager expression of the crowd, rendered him
at first a little nervous. He selects and reads his hymn,
which is sung with spirit and animation. After the
singing he reads a selection from Job, and leads in
prayer. In all he does rust is perceptible, but as he
proceeds he gains strength and brilliancy. He ba&es
his remarks upon the life and writings of Job, and
for nearly two hours holds the vast crowd in silence,
listening to his recital of God's dealings with Job,
and of some striking analogies between the case of
Job and himself. He could clearly see that God
meant love to Job and valued instructions to his
people in thus afflicting him. That in his own case
his chastenings had been severe, but he felt they had
proved a means of grace to his soul, and through
Rev. Johnson -Olive. 251
them in some measure God's cause might be glorified.
He related with feelings many of the incidents that
had crossed his pathway during the five years just
passed, and expressed great faith in the power of God
to preserve and uphold his people, even in the dun-
geons of despair. Upon many points he was more
firm and outspoken than in former years. It was evi-
dent from this introductory that his ministry in future
would differ in some particulars from the past. Deeper
convictions, more outspoken, a firm and unshaken ad-
herence to these convictions when he had a " thus saith
saith the Lord " for them.
The impressions made upon the audience were pro-
found. Many tears were shed, and at times the stern-
est hearts gave way. All left the church with the
scenes he had depicted indellibly impressed upon their
minds, feeling that the w^ork of this man of God was
but just begun.
A deep interest in his future was now felt among
his acquaintances. Some feared it was a species of
insanity with which he had been troubled, and that it
might retufn ; others felt that it was the dealings of a
kind Providence, and was once for all. As for father,
he talked freely and cheerfully about his condition,
often introducing it himself, and entertained no fears
of a like trouble. He is now fully committed to his for-
mer work, and is eager to preach, and the people anx-
ious to hear him. Through the courtesy of neighbor-
ing pastors he is invited to their churches, and had
soon preached a number of discourses in the fields
formerly occupied by him, much to the delight and
252 The Life and Times of
satisfaction of his brethren, and interesting to all. He
spoke of the past with an ease, freedom and cheerful-
ness that rather astonished. His manner at all times
of representing this state was like the man who has
through great trials, persecutions and afflictions, but
at last has come out triumphant, exonerated from all
wrong, and strengthened in character.
As he was now making his second start in the min-
istry, some changes in his own life, both secular and
ministerial, were impressed upon his mind. He was
decided in his convictions never again to so cumber
himself with worldly cares. In future he would not
constitute a farm hand, as he had done through much
of his past ministerial life. He preferred of choice to
labor some, and during his entire life never hesitated
to take hold whenever and wherever it was needed.
Yet when he saw these cares entangling him he would
speedily extricate himself therefrom. He also felt that
the customs of holding revival meetings, which had
been productive of much good in the past, had in lat-
ter days come to be abused ; that morbid notions of
true and vital religion had sprung up among the
masses through this instrumentality; he was not dis-
posed to discard a means that had been so signally
blessed for the objections he saw or the evils arising
out of it. He consults with some wise and experienced
brethren upon these topics. His conclusion was to try
to remedy these evils, as he thought them to be, so far
as his labors extended. He would teach the people
that religion did not consist in noise and great demon-
stration ; that this he would not condemn when it
Rev. Johnson Olive. 253
proceeded from a godly spirit, but to suppose that it
would produce godliness was wrong.
We do not know that he ever talked so freely upon
this subject with any person as he did wiih us. To
these principles he conformed his subsequent ministry,
and found it to be quite as successful, and lived to
witness a more healthy state of spirituality among the
churches of his charge. The principal objection to
the former methods was that under the great excite-
ment that often existed numbers realized a sensation
that they mistook for a change of heart. Among the
converts there were too many backsliders; that many
would make a new profession each year that rolled
round — would become mourners and make professions
at each meeting for years in succession.
Many who read this account will know the truth
whereof we speak. In short, while there was every
evidence to believe that thousands were truly con-
verted and added to the church each year through this
medium, the per cent of those whose conversions ap-
peared not genuine was too large. To correct this evil.
was the subject that impressed him. We would not be
understood to say that father's views upon the teachings
of the Bible as held by his denomination (Missionary
Baptist) were materially changed, yet he was not strictly
sectarian, and always preferred to follow the teachings
of God as he understood them, to that of men, and
sought not to bend the Word to suit his own peculiar
views. He was in no way active in politics, yet he had
his notions of civil government, and regarding it as
sanctioned by the laws of God, ever felt it a christian
254 The Life and Times of
duty to aid in establishing good laws, iu harmony
with the spirit and teachings of Divine revelation,
and to encourage a faithful administration of the same.
CHAPTER XXL
/
During the fall of 1865 he was called to the pas-
torate of Shady Grove Church, Wake county, to take
effect the first of January following. The beginning
of the year 1866 finds him actually engaged in minis-
terial work. He was judged by those who heard him
to be now possessed of all the clearness of mind, energy
and vigor of spirit that had characterized his course
in former years, with an experience ^rom which he
often drew many forcible and successful illustrations.
The period of time immediately succeeding the war
was as remarkable for dearth in religious circles as
that just preceeding this "^crisis wa« for life. Man}''
persons who had shown much interest in church work
in former years had through the hardships of war and
a soldier's life become cold, careless and indifferent to
religious duties. This, added to the confused and un-
settled state of civil government in the recently sub-
dued States, cast quite a gloom over the church at this
time. If this was a specimen, it has been truly said
that war is a great demoralizer. A very unsettled
state of mind existed as to secular life; no one could
tell what would be the outcome of the new order of
things as they then existed ; some were for leaving to
Rev. Johnson Olive. 255
become citizens of other governments; almost ever}^
one looked to the future with gloomy forebodings; the
political and domestic situation formed the chief topics
of conversation. During such a state, a hard and
laborious work remains for the faithful watchman who
is commanded to cry aloud and spare not when he
sees the enemy approaching. The faithful minister
found in his congregation few of those supports which
are so essential to successful work. So many absent
faces and vacant seats, so little real interest manifested,
rendered the average church rather a place of gloom
than of joy. The chief thoughts which seemed to oc-
cupy his mind were to arouse christians to a sense of
the dangers which surrounded them, and to their duty,
and to awaken sinners to the dangers which were en-
twining them. He sought to quiet the minds of his
hearers upon the dangers which threatened, and urged
them to fear God rather than man ; to practice nothing
which Jehovah had forbidden, though men should seek
to enforce it; to live by the religion of Jesus Christ,
and if need be, to die by it. In his efforts to settle the
minds of his hearers upon the questions then agitating
them, he was sometimes charged by some who sup-
ported the political measures ^f these times with
preaching politics. This rather amused than offended
him, for lie felt that he knew his own heart in this
matter and only desired to bring all the lights of
Scripture he could to bear upon this subject, to the end
that the minds of his people might be established.
It was during this year that his lifelong friend,
Rev. P. W. Dowd, died at his home in Wake county.
256 The Life and Times of
He visited him in his last sickness, and talked freely
with him about his disease and his prospects beyond
the Jordan of death. He stated tlfat he was rapidly
sinking but experienced no pain. He had do fears of
death ; to die would be gain. His cool, calm resigna-
tion as he stood upon the brink of eternity greatly im-
pressed father, and he often alluded to this circum-
stance in after life when speaking of the dying chris-
tian. He was present at his funeral and burial, and
returned home feeling as if he had been to the funeral
and burial of a father.
He now begins to realize more fully than ever before
the great responsibility that reits upon him as one of
the few ministers remaining in his section of country.
The number of young men entering the ministry at
this time were very few, and for a period of ten years
or more after the war, the work of the ministry de-
volved mainly upon those who had been long in the
harness.
In the midst of his labors during the fall of this
year he received a friendly, though almost fatal blow
from a young horse while stopping with his sister on
his way home from some family visits. I was not far
away from the scene at the time, and was sent for by
him. There was evidence of an internal wound which
might result in early dissolution. He talked of his
misfortune very pleasantly, yet his intense pain led
him to feel that death might be near at hand. He
said death was not a terror to him, and if it was the
Lord's time all was well. Soon a physician arrived
and in a few hours hopes for his recovery began to re-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 257
vive. He was debarred from preaching for several
weeks in consequence of this affliction.
For the year 18G7 he recived calls to the pastorate of
Shady Grove, Bethany and Ephesus churches, Wake
county, and at Mt. Gilead, Chatham county. This was
quite an active year with him. Since his returning to
the ministry the people everywhere were anxious to
meet him and hear him. His vacant Sundays were
filled with appointments to preach funerals and fill
the appintments of other pastors. He frequently rode
twenty to twenty five miles to these appointments.
In addition to his four churches and the labors just
named, he was engaged during this year in writing
his biography, which forms the basis of this work.
By this time there w^as marked improvement in the
country. The favorable crops of 1865 and 1866 had
done much to relieve the people ; prices of most farm
products were enormous. Local government was grad-
ually being re-established, and military power giving
way to some extent. Some of the dark forebodings
had not been realized, and the minds of the people
were becoming much more settled. All this was fa-
vorable to successful church work. Congregations were
larger and much more interested in religious work
than formerly. A deep sense of the responsibility now
resting upon the ministry, and the great need for earn-
est, consecrated work inflame his soul and he preaches
with much zeal and fervor. His strongest impressions
are to build up the waste places of Zion at home ; to
awaken Christians to a sense of duty, and sinners to a
258 The Life and Times op
knowledge of their danger. And to these purposes he
gave much of his time and talents.
Living in the country, preaching in the country,
and being intimately acquainted with the circum-
stances of many of his flock, (as many of them con-
sulted him freely upon almost every subject, and kept
few secrets from him), he knew well the ^situation of
the people to whom he preached both financially and
spiritually. The few years of prosperity had not re-
lieved them from the embarrassments resulting from
the late war. In this state of circumstances he did
not feel it his duty to urge his charges to aid objects
abroad. He was not at heart opposed to any Chris-
tian efiPort authorized by the Word of God. He had
ever been a missionary in spirit and in practice; had
given liberally all his life of his scanty means, and
was still doing so, but declared that he felt no respon-
sibility resting upon him as a pastor to urge his
churches to contribute to objects abroad. Should he
live to see his people differently situated he would
then teach them to aid in these various objects of Chris-
tian work. The people in his charge living in a sec-
tion where the enemy in the recent conflicts were dis-
banded were not on a par with other sections of the
country, and until they had in some measure been
enabled to set their own houses in order he did not
feel called upon to urge them to send their contribu
tions abroad. He expressed himself willing at all
times to give any and all an opportunity to help, but
could not urge it.
This was father's position for several years after the
Rev. Johnson Olive. 259
war. Some sharp, though at last pleasant controver-
sies between himself and some of his brethren grew
out of this in some of the associatians. Yet so far as
I could ever learn they were usually conducted in a
Christian spirit, and finally resulted in bringing all
parties together, and in imparting moderation rather
than bitterness. The masses of the people of his
charges were with him in sentiment, and at times some
good brethren thought division would follow. Father
was far from courting anything of this kind, and had
no selfish feelings to gratify in this matter; but deter-
mined to stand firm by 'the faith he held, and pro-
claim fearlessly what he thought to be the truth.
The courage with which he maintained his convic-
tions drew to him many followers, and only awakened
the admiration of those who opposed his views. They
could feel that nothing serious could come from the
actions of one so generous and so full of energy, zeal
and devotion to the cause of his Master. They could
fully trust his honesty, and so soon as he could see his
churches able he would not be a whit behind in filling
the great mission of his Lord : *' Go ye into all the
world and preach the gospel to every creature."
Thus, what appeared at one time to be a serious ob-
stacle in the way of co-operation and harmony in the
bounds of his modestv, soon subsides to the satisfac-
tion of all. He sometimes spoke of the extreme to
which some of the supporters of his views were dis-
posed to carry ideas he had advanced, and labored to
correct all errors thus engendered. Subsequently the
churches of his care were among the most liberal in
260 The Life and Times of
contributing to the various objects of christian work
of any in the Association to which they beloDged. He
was, however, always free to speak of extremes, and
held that no amount of money and men were suffi-
cient to convert the world to Christ without conse-
crated hearts and the guiding influences of the Holy
Spirit. The discussions of the various objects of chris-
tian labor had the effect in many instances to awaken
interest and to shed light upon many subjects which
were before but little understood.
Father ever remained satisfied with the part he
acted, and felt that he had but done justice to his peo-
ple in their poverty and want, and that in the end he
and oohers had alike been benefitted by the light that
had been thrown upon the subjects under discussion.
CHAPTER XXn./
The work of the ministry perhaps never afforded
him more joy than during this period. He acted as
one continually emerging into greater light. His mind
was active and clear, his impressions vivid, his memory
almost faultless, his energy and zeal profound and
abiding, his faith strong.
The following letter, addressed to the Rev. James
Dennis, of Mississippi, one he had long known, and
for^whom he entertained a lasting regard, will serve
to show more of father's feelings, both as to the time
of which we write and the past than anything in our
Rev. Johnson Olive. 261
possession. This venerable man was his senior in age
and in the ministry, was present at his ordination, and
ever proved himself to be a kind and faithful counsel-
lor to father. So much did ne feel indebted to him
that he sometimes spoke of him as a father in the
ministry. Hence this open, frank letter, which we
give in full :
Wake County, N. C, July 12, 1867.
My Very Dear Brother :— I have concluded to write to
you another letter. I have heard from you frequently, but
have received no letter from you in a long time. I sympa-
thize with you in your troubles, for I have been a great suf-
ferer myself.
I understand that you have lost all your children but one.
I have lost three, yet we have five living. Our two oldest
and youngest are dead. You have lost a son and daugh-
ter. This, together with our other losses, is enough to cause
our hearts to grieve and our drooping courage to flag. But
all these things can be borne and should be borne with
patience and fortitude. Yet Solomon says: "A wounded
spirit who can bear." I have been the man to experience*
this, not willingly, but from stern necessity. I do not re-
gret it now, for I have learned more in the school of expe-
rience and affliction than most of men, and some lessons
that few if any ever learned before. As useful and instruc-
tive as these lessons have been, I have no desire to pass
through that school again.
Brother Dennis, let me speak a few words to you as a son
to his father, for I feel that my faith is strong, my hope firm,
and my consolation sweet. I am now a happy man, but by
the grace of God I- am what I am, and through much tribu-
lation I have arrived at this state of mind. In the first place
let me say to you what you have often said to others : We
should never take on, or grieve inordinately, for that which is
262 The Life and Times of
unavoidable on our part, because we can neither change one
hair white or black, but as Jeremiah, so let us do: " Truly,
this is a grief, and let us bear it." " O, Lord, I know that the
way of man is not in himself; it is not in man thatwalketh
to direct his steps." All this, and a thousand times more have
I found verified in the school of experience. In the next
place, let a son say to his father: "My father, think it not
strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you as
though 'some strange thing happened unto you." Do not
despond at the hidings of God's face ; clouds may obscure
the sky of your mind, but the Son of Righteousness will
beam forth again with healing in His wings to your soul.
No man could sink lower in the slough of despond than
1 ; not one ray of hope penetrated my dark soul, but dark-
ness, death and long despair reigned in constant horrors
there. The pains of hell got hold of me, and nothing but a
fearful looking-for of the judgment to come and the fiery
displeasure of a sin-avenging God awaiting me.
And now my dear father, I see that God was leading me
in a way which I had not hitherto trod, and in a way I did
not know. Dark things have been made plain, and crooked
ways straight. If I ever had religion, 1 had it then; if I did
not have it then, I have it not now.
' My dear brother, "according to thy faith so be it unto
thee." Faith'is the great lever in religion. We live by faith,
we walk by faith, we stand by faith, and by faith we over-
come the enemies of our souls. When faith is gone our shield
is gone, and the fiery darts of the enemy will pierce us on every
side. In the present unsettled state of our country, and the
minds of the people partaking of this state more or less, and
thus liable to be tossed by every wind of doctrine, I have
studied diligently to find out the course of wisdom.
So far as I am personally concerned these things do not
greatly affect me, for I have no fear of wicked men or devils,
but I feel for others, for the church, and the welfare of my
country.
I am preaching for four churches this year. I have good
Rev. Johnson Olive. 263
congregations, good order and good attention, but as yet I
have seen no great efiEect produced. I enjoy liberty in speak-
ing, and my faith is so strong in the power and goodness of
God that I cannot doubt of final success. Since 1 commenced
preaching the second time, oi* as I sometimes feel since my
resurrection from the dead, I have felt like a new man. 1 have
lost my former diffidence, my timidity and embarrassment in
preaching before any and all persons, be they ever so great or
learned. I feel that I have a message to tell, and "whatso-
ever my God says that will I speak."
Many new texts of Scripture and new subjects are rolled
upon my mind like a burden from the Lord, and I am never
satisfied till I roll it ofi. Sometimes nature revolts when these
subjects are pointed and severe against the customs and man-
ners that prevail, but I cannot rest till I cry aloud and spare
not. It does seem to me that the time is fast approaching
when every man shall be seen in his true colors. All hidden
sins shall be brought to light, and the line drawn between
him that serveth God and him that serveth him not. The signs
of the times indicate to my mind that an invincible power is
working to bring to light what is and has been going on in the
heart, and all the efforts of men to evade it seem to be una-
vailing. I would not have you to understand that I have de-
viated from the old established doctrines of our holy religion
as handed down by Christ and his apostles, and as taught by
our fathers. My meaning is, I have had new subjects con-
nected with that same old religion brought to bear on my
mind.
Brother Dennis, I shall take liberty in speaking, or rather in
writing to you, as I have done to other old fathers in Israel.
1 am about to have' a book published. Of course this will
strike you with some astonishment, as I have never been in
the habit of writing for publication.
Not to detain you here, I will tell you some of the exercises
of my mind on this subject since my return to the ministry.
I soon felt a strong anxiety of mind to relate my experience
during the five years that I was dead to all spiritual things.
264 The Life and Times of
I was unwilling to carry all these things into the pulpit, and
make this too prominent a part of my preaching, for I felt it
my duty to preach the Gospel and not my experience while in
a state as people looked upon as mental derangement. I con-
sulted my brethren in the ministry in regard to this matter and
they thought with me that it would be best not to bring too
much of this into my sermons. I would tell my experience
through these years to any one who desire i to hear it. In
this way a great many suggested to me that I ought to write it
out and have it published, as it would be calculated to do
much good, especially to the afflicted in soul and all who were
troubled upon the subject of religion. So I concluded to write
it up and leave it to be disposed of by my friends and brethren
after my decease. In consulting with brother Dowd on this
subject, he advised me to write it out and have it published as
soon as possible, promising to aid me in any way he could.
This I set about doing, but he was soon called away by death.
I have thus far written one hundred and forty pages and am
not yet through. I think the book will contain about two hun-
dred pages. It will embrace a short history of my life. If I have
it published I will try to send you a copy. • Its title will be " One
of the wonders of the age, or the life and times of Johnson
Olive." Your brother in Christ,
JOHNSON OLIVE.
The reader will well understand that this was not
written for publication, but is here given as the best
means of showing the true character of our subject at
this time. As intimated through these years the
preacher witnessed but slight develof^ment and growth
among his members, and very little increase of mem-
bership, yet good was being accomplished. It was
truly a time of seed-sowing, and he who labored on in
faith and in love, doing his whole duty, as though the
Rev. Johnson Olive. 265
harvest was at hand, leaving results with his Master,
lived to see a few years later a glorious ingathering.
Through the 3ears of 1868 and 1869 father was
pastor of Shady Grove, Bethany, Ephesus and Mt-
Moriah churches. During this tiuie he was permitted
to witness a great change among his churches for the
better. Strange though it may appear the progress
and prosperity of the church was commensurate with
the political and material prosperity of the country.
This may be an exception to the rule, but it follows
war. We would not be understood to say that during
such times christian people turn from the true God,
but we hope never again to see a time when there was
so little thought and talk among those who claim to
be the people of God of Him and His mercies. The
feeling experienced by the christian man or woman
was horrible. Hatred, ill-will and vengeance had had
sway for years, and where such feelings reign the
gentle Spirit of God cannot dwell.
Thisstateof things was now gradually disappearing;
much evil that had been looked for had not come to
pass; friendly relations are everywhere being grad-
ually established ; good crops and good prices are
greatly relieving the wants of the people, and a bright
future is opening up. Christians begin to realize some
of the gentle influencesof the Holy Spirit; theirhearts
are more tender; they love each other more, and feel
more concern about the salvation of sinners. During
the two or three years that now follow many churches
and communities experience glorious seasons of Divine
grace.
12
266 The Life and Times of
During these two y^ars all of fathers' churches en-
joyed a fair degree of prosperity ; some of them passed
through the most successful revivals of their history.
There were many accessions to the church. A great
man}' full-grown and middle aged men were brought
into the fold during this period.
I have often heard the brethren of Bethany Church,
formerly near Morrisville, Wake county, speak of the
revival held there about this time. They describe it
as the J. reatest revival they ever witnessed, the pastor
preaching with great clearness and power, but in his
appeals to the unconverted was gentle, mild and per-
suasive, addressing himself only to their judgment,
and when he gave his final invitation to those who
would turn from the ways of sin and death to the ways
of righteousness and peace, men and women, boys and
girls, all ages and conditions, eagerly came forward
seeking Him who died that they might live. The
number of converts was large and a real impetus was
given to the cause of religion in this locality. Others
of his churches enjoyed revival seasons quite as much
blessed.
During the few years that follow he is more conse-
crated to his chosen work than at any former period
of his life. His own health is good. The health of
his family is better than for years; his children about
all grown; his churches paying him a sufficient
amount for support, with what he could realize from
his little farm. According to a previous conviction
and determination, he had as much as was possible
cut loose from worldly cares and now gives himself
Rev. Johnson Olive. 267
almost wholly to ministerial and pastoral work. He
is a constant reader. Few moments are spent in idle-
ness. He has a fair collection of religious books, and
reads and studies with a zeal and diligence character-
istic of ambitious youth. His congregations every-
where are large and attentive, and his thoughts are
impressed upon th^ hearts of many. His sayings and
teachings are familiar to a number even to this day.
It is but just to say that during this period his ef-
forts were greatly blessed, and that many souls were
brought into God's earthly kingdom during these
years of his service. Many persons who will read this
little volume date the beginning of divine life to these
years and to his services as an humble instrument in
the hands of Jehovah.
During the two or three years that succeeded the
death of Rev. P. W. Dowd father had under consider-
ation the erection of a monument to the memory of
that distinguished divine. He had by the aid of some
other brethren succeeded in getting up the amount
necessary for this purpose, and arrangements were
made to have the same erected over his remains at
Mt. Pisgah Church, Chatham county, on the 24th day
of April, 1869. Owing to the active part father had
taken in raising the money necessary for this under-
taking, his life-long attachment to the deceased, and
his intimate knowledge of his life for over twenty five
years, he was selected to prepare a suitable service for
the occasion. The day arrived, several hundred per-
sons assembled at the church-yard ; some have esti-
m^ed the attendance at near two thousand.
268 The Life and Times of
He introduced the services by speaking of the oc-
casion which had called them together, the deep love
they bore to him whose memory they wished to per-
petuate. He cited some Bible authorities for thus
honoring the dead who had so distinguished them-
selves for good ; he spoke of the abuse that had some-
times been made of it, and of the true spirit with
which all such work should be done. Render to all
men their dues. Under this head he spoke feelingly
of the life and labors of the eminent man of God.
He had not escaped the persecutor's shafts, but had
born it in the spirit of his Master. He held him up
as a man of broad culture, clear logic, profound elo-
quence; had the ability to speak what he knew to the
very best advantage. As a proof of his godly charac-
ter he cited to the fruits he bore, and mentioned the
great sacrifices he made for the cause he so much
loved, having repeatedly refused more invjting fields,
but chose to spend and be spent for his Lord and
Master where he could accomplish most good. He
made some tender allusions to the interest he always
manifested in the young men of his charges, of his
tender counsels with himself in early life. The exer-
cises closed by his reading the following lines in
verse, which he had prepared for the occasion, which
after reading he sang :
The God who reigns in heaven above,
And rules this world below,
Who sends with speed the shafts of death
Along the road we go.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 269
Chorus.
We meet around the grave
Of Lim we loved so well,
This monument we raise
Above his head to tell —
This God did send to us a man,
(O! how we loved his name,)
A chosen vessel in His hand
His Gospel to proclaim.
Our eyes have seen, our ears have heard,
Our hearts have felt his truth,
When he was holding forth Thy Word
In bygon6 days of youth.
Our fathers, mothers, too have heard
That man proclaim Thy Name,
While he was holding forth Thy Word
They caught the sacred flame.
What wondrous truths our ears have heard
When he was in the stand,
And holding forth Thy precious Word
In this surrounding land.
Through storms and tempests o'er his head
And persecutions rife,
A pilgrim to his dying bed
He closed his mortal life.
The names of holy men shall live
In hearts imbued with love,
Till we to God all glory give
Around the throne above.
270 The Life and Times of
Dear people, when you meet around
This silent, sacred place.
Step lightly on — 'tis holy ground —
Here lies a man of grace.
When children come upon the sod
This monument to view.
Here lies a holy man of God
Whose heart was just and true.
With reverence and with love to God
We now have done our part;
We leave our friend beneath the clod
With calm and peaceful heart.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The year 1870 brings with it but few changes in the
life and labors of our subject. He has lost none of his
interest in church work. His charges this year are
v^ Shady Grove, Pleasant Grove, Bethany and Mt.Moriah,
all of Wake county. The developnaent and growth
which had been so marked in all the churches for the
past few years move steadily onward. One encourage-
ing feature is the Sunday school interest which the
country churches now begin to enter into with an ef-
fort not heretofore witnessed. This work was heartily
endorsed by him, and he often spoke of the readiness
of Sabbath school scholars to accept Christ. It is true
many churches had engaged in this work long before
this period, yet the increased facilities, and the earnest
Rev. Johnson Olive. 271
efforts put forth by many pastors and active lay
brethren gave a new impetus to the cause of Sunday
schools about this period.
The grand results attending this work were so evi-
dent everywhere, both among christians and the un-
regenerated, that it gathered increased interest as it
went, and in a few years was regarded by most reli-
gious denominations as one of the important means of
evangelizing the world. It was the custom of most
country churches in middle North Carolina to have
only monthly preaching, One Saturday and Sabbath
of each month w^as set apart for regular service. Many
ministers had charge of four churches. It was usually
so with father, and often in the week and on fifth Sun-
days he preached funeral sermons in various locali-
ties, often a great distance from home, to be traveled
by private conveyance.
As the title of this work is the " Life and Times of
Johnson Olive," it may not be amiss to say more of
funeral sermons, as this service has undergone some
changes during the past few years, and may sound
strangely to some who may read this work in years to
come. From a personal knowledge of father's views
upon thj subject of funeral services, I do not hesitate
to say that I believe they were sound, and would be
so considered by all who understood him. I think it
would be difficult to find a minister who had preached
more funerals. This was due to several causes. He
was what is sometimes termed a man from among
the people; mingled much- with the masses from
childhood to old age, saw much of them, knew
272 The Life and Times of
much of them. Being naturally possessed of a genial,
jovial, kind, sympathetic nature, far removed from
hypocrisy or deception, his word always his bond;
literally truthful, he made many friends. He spent
his life among this people. He seldom lacked for hear-
ers anywhere. In the circle of his acquaintance there
were some people who never attended church, others
who went but seldom-, Often upon going to some out-
of-the-way place to preach a funeral he met with such
characters. He seized these opportunities to try to do
them good, as well as others, and often under these
influences grew warm in spirit, and preached some of
his most effectual sermons. He lived to see much
good result to the living from these sermons, and thus
his interest in such services was deepened, and he
sought as hard to prepare himself for such occasions
as any other, and many thought they heard his best
preaching here. All have some idea of the feeling
that permeates a vast audience assembled to pay the
last tribute of respect to some man or woman of prom-
inence, either for good or ill in the community. Upon
such occasions the heart is soft and easily impressed.
He seized such opportunities for good.
That this custom was somewhat abused he was
aware, and sought to the extent of his work to remedy
it. He objected to the custom of preaching the
funerals of persons long since dead, especially in case
of infants, and favored all funeral services at the time
of burial, or soon after; yet he preached the funerals
of some long after they were dead. He was perhaps
never seen to get up to preach upon such occasion that
Rev. Johnson Olive. 273
he did uot try in the outset to set all minds right upon
this custom, and to impress ail that it was for the ben-
efit of the living and not the dead that these services
were held. As the tree fell so it must lie. Hence as
long as he lived this was a prominent part of his min-
istry. In one Association the subject of funeral ser-
mons was under discussion. Some of the brethren
thought they ought to be abolished, others entertained
similar vi^ws with slight modification. Father arose
and very earnestly spoke in behalf of this service and
closed by saying they could pass as many resolutions
as they chose condemning it but so long as he was
permitted to preach anywhere he should continue this
service, believing that in this line of work he had been
the instrument of good. His faith in this service,
strengthened by what he had witnessed, perhaps better
fitted him for this department of labor. Be this as it
may, many who now live can bear testimony to the
success of his labors under this head, for which he
seemed peculiarly adapted. There was never a greater
demand upon him than during the years he is now
passing through for preaching funeral sermons. All
his energies and powers of both mind and body are
now employed to meet the demands that are upon him.
He is constant and steady in his work.
In the early part of the year 1871 his son Thomas
Jasper Olive, so long afHicted, dies. He was fourth
child in age, and the fourth to die.
It always appears that death falls upon those mem-
bers of the family for whom some special tenderness
exists. This is not always true. We do not know
274 The Life and Times of
how precious opportunities for good in this life are till
we see them in their flight. We do not really know
our attachment to friends and loved ones till called to
be separated from them.
In the course of time that which was an impulse or
passion at the beginning becomes a principle, and is
fixed far below the surface. Those who have experi-
enced it need not be told that an invalid in the family
is an object of special care and affection. How quick
the entire family become aroused at injury or wrong
done such a one.
This youth, now twenty-three years of age, was
stricken with Pneumonia at the age of six years. A
healthy, robust child is suddenly prostrated, and for
many long weeks is completely helpless. During this
prostration an abscess is formed upon the lungs, is
lanced, and for ten or twelve years remained unhealed.
During most of this time he was up and moving about
but never saw another well day. The side of his body
in which this trouble was seated grew but little and
gave to him an ill form. He spent most of his life
about the home, and was never afterwards enabled to
endure hardship or fatigue. He was easily affected by
cold, and during the winter of 1870 became much
prostrated by reason of exposure He continued to
weaken, and the violent cough with other indications
pointed to an early dissolution. He continued to move
from house to house and about the yard ; and in the
midst of the expectation of all that he would survive
some weeks yet, he was one morning seated by the
cheerful fire while father was sitting near by reading.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 275
Suddenly the father hears a struggle, turns and gathers
his dying boy in his arms, with his head upon his
breast, and in a few moments what had long been to
him a tender, affectionate boy, is a lifeless form.
He had early professed faith in Christ, and for many
years been a consistent member of the church. This
death was met with quiet resignation. The father
often referring to the deep feelings of his soul upon
this occasion.
While he had no Elisha to go to for his dead bo}^
he could truly commit him into the hands of Elisha's
God, believing that he had gone to join his two
brothers and his sister in a land that is free from pain.
The few years that here follow, from 1871 to 1875,
are not marked by any incidents of special interest.
The religious work that had been organized during
the five or six years just past moves steadily and suc-
cessfully onward. The minister finds his work less
difficult than formerly. During these years his pas-
toral labors are spent among the churches of Shady
Grove, Pleasant Grove, Bethany and Mount Moriah.
The church at Mount Moriah had, soon after his en-
trance upon work there in 1868, given him an indefi-
nite call, to be terminated wheneve'r church or pastor
thought, from any cause, a change necessary. Chris-
tian work among all of father's churches was now
pleasant, and reasonably successful.
The customs of the times was to hold a series of ser-
vices once in two or three years with each church as
opportunity seemed to present itself, and as the spirit
lead the hearts of the people. He was permitted to
276 The Life and TniKis of
witness many gracious outpourings of the Spirit upon
bis churches and congregations during this period.
There was everywhere growth and devolopment among
Christians, and many accessions to the church from
the ranks of the unregenerate. He preaches no new
doctrines, but takes up the old, old story with warmth,
earnestness and clearness. The changes that the five
years of inactivity had wrought upon his ministry
were often at this time the subject of discourse among
his acqaintances.
We think we here pen a verdict that was sanctioned
by the great majority. He was more bold, inore frank,
had less desire to please men, and had more, if possi-
ble, to please God. Possessed the courage of his con-
victions and was more obedient to the voice of con-
science. A closer and keener observer of all that
passed under his knowledge. His mind clearer and his
memory more tenacious.
Many persons regarded the period of retirement as
the ripening period during which time those qualities
of merit he had formerly exhibited reached a rich
state of maturity, and thus he was better enabled to
come more boldly up to duty and take up the cross
though it was heavy. The subject of Education, Home
and Foreign Missions, &c., were objects that had been
receiving and were now receiving a good share of at-
tention from the Baptists of the State, as well as many
other religious denominations. He was friendly to
them all, and his churches were among the most lib-
eral country churches of the middle portion of the'
State. He, however, did not consider man as perfect-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 277
or his works even in such noble causes as being with-
out fault, and ever liable to take on some error. He
sometimes spoke freely of the abuses to which these
worthy objects were subject, not however, to the det-
riment of true progress that I know. He favored edu-
cation, and advocated an educated ministry, yet ever
tried to impress upon his hearers that the grand prepa-
ration must come from God, and that the preparations
that man could add, while good and commendable,
were only secondary to a successful ministry. He ever
plead for the humble, faithful, unlettered man of God,
who was by the aid of the Holy Spirit cutting down
the forest and clearing up the Gospel field with little
or no reward, save what his Heavenly Father gave
him. He plead that such should not be overlooked or
undervalued. He was at times impressed that there
was danger in relying too much upon men and money
for the evangelization of the world. He did not un-
dervalue means, but held them as subordinate; that
in our zeal to bring the world to Christ we must re-
member that it is not by might nor by power, bat " by
My Spirit "saith the Lord. He believed fully in the
part the Spirit was to perform, and without this there
could be no effectual work done.
I here give a brief of a discourse he sometimes de-
livered upon the subject of missions. We give this
that he may go upon reeord honestly and truthfully :
278 The Life and Times of
Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus. —
Phil. 2:5.
The \^ord mission defined — The true principle of a
missionary — The negative principle.
It does not consist in money given ; a great deal has
been given in the name of missions when the giver
was far removed from the true missionary spirit;
Christ is the true pattern of a missionary; he that has
the mind or spirit of Christ is a missionary. Calcula-
ting the mission principle of men, churches and asso-
ciations by the amount given in money has brought
about a misnomer, and has caused the name "Mission-
ary" to sound unpleasant to the minds of some. In-
stance: Conversations with some persons, mission ser-
mons, their erroneous ideas of doctrine, more money
given, more souls saved, more given more will be re-
ceived by the giver. Let money out at interest with
God as surety. To be a missionary in the true sense
of the word is to be of the mind of Christ Jesus.
The true principle of a missionary consists in an en-
tire consecration to God.
These extracts are not calculated to do full justice
to our subject on every occasion, as they were his
thoughts occurring at random, and penned merely as
a matter of reference, and how much revised before
delivering them from the stand I do not know; yet
many will recognize the man in these brief outlines.
It is but reasonable to suppose that while our churches
were reorganizing these grand objects of christian
labor during the few years that followed the great
civil conflict, that some good men in their zeal pressed
some of the points referred to in the foregoing notes
Rev. Johi^son Olive. 279
beyond the proper limits. A few years of time aud
thought with wise and just criticism greatly improved
the means of gathering support for these objects, and
the great good that soon became evident commended
them to all.
In the commencement of 1875 father began to serve
as pastor of Holly Springs and New Belhel Churches,
where he remained in that capacity till time of his
death. He was still pastor at Mt. Moriah and Shady
Grove.
At this time it was beginning to be a custom with
many churches to call for life or indefinitely. This
was quite congenial to his age and present state of
feeling. He is yet active and full of zeal for the cause,
and is now well nigh cut loose from all worldly cares,
and much consecrated to his chosen work. His ex-
penses of living are small; he has turned over his
farm mainly to others, and lives principally of the
means contributed to him by his churches, which for
the times were always liberal. The five years that
now follow are years of quiet, earnest work, realizing
perhaps fewer changes for the same length of t.me
than at any other period of his life.
In 1876 he changes his pastorate from Shady Grove
to Olive's Chapel Church, and now has for a successive
period of six years the pastoral charge of Olive's
Chapel, Holly Spring, New Bethel and Mt. Moriah. He
spends much of his time with the people of these local-
ities. He is usually prompt in his attendance, allow-
ing nothing save providential hinderances to keep
him away.
280 The Life and Times of
During these years of service the ties of love and
friendship so long existing between himself and many
persons in these communities were greatly strength-
ened ; church, congregation and pastor seemed alike
pleased, and there is every reason to believe that much
good in the name of the Master was accomplished
during these years. His churches made fair progress
in the increase of members and in the development of
grace among their members. Their coutsibutions to
all christian work were liberal. All were visited with
seasons of divine grace from time to time; peace and
order never was less disturbed. While he never ceased
to exhort sinners to repentance, tow^ards the closing
years of his life his ministry was more abounding in
entreaMes to the church and advice to christians,
urging them to consecrate their lives to Christ and to
be faithful to the end.
As best illustrating the character of his ministry at
this period we give two skeletons of sermons, the first
appropriate to all, but especially to the unregenerate.
First :
Enter ye in at the straight gate, for wide is the gate and
broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there
ha which go in thereat ; because straight is the gate and nar-
row is the way which leadeth unto Ufe, and few there be that
find it. —Matt. 7: 13, 14.
The striking admonition of the text: All mankind
are represented here as travelers, and all bound to one
of two places, heaven or hell. These two ways are
here described, and the end of each given. The one
Rev. Johnson Olive. 281
agreeable to the flesh, but the end is destruction. The
other as being hard and disagreeable to the flesh, but
the end eternal life. If you incline to the broad way,
it has many things to recommend it to your choice,
some of which we will name: First, you will have
no difflculty in entering upon it. 'Tis a wide gate.
Second, in your pregress in this way you will have
full scope to gratify your inclinations, for it is a broad
way, and while there is but one way to heaven, and
that way narrow and straight, the road to hell admits
of many avenues, divisions and sub-divisions, out of
which you may take your choice. Third, you will be
in no w^ant of suitable companions there, for many go
this way ; but remember, the end is destruction.
Should there be any who incline to the straight gate,
I would advise all such to first set down and count up
the cost. You may find great difficulties in entering
upon the way, for straight is the gate. You may meet
with difficulties and hard struggles in your journey,
for it is a narrow way. In pursuing this way you
may have but little company, for few there be that
find it.
We say to all, life and death are set before you ;
make now your choice.
Second :
Let us therefore follow after the things which make for
peace, and things wherewith one may edify another. — Romans
14:17.
Peace, a blessing greatly to be desired. We should,
however, not be so fond of peace as to accept it upon
a sandy foundation. We should never sacrifice truth,
either to make or to preserve peace. We should never
attempt to preserve peace at the expense of righteousness.
In order that we may follow after those things which
282 The Life and Times of
make for peace we submit the following rules and ob-
servations to your prayerful consideration : Be careful
to cultivate a spirit of love, guard against sin, beware
of a disputatious temper, avoid a spirit of envy, guard
against a sensitive disposition, strive to heal differ-
ences, encourage no tale-bearer, be ever ready to for-
give. These are some of the things which we should
cultivate in our minds in order that we may follow
those things which make for peace. Peace is closely
connected with church prosperity and to soul pros-
perity. Our Lord shed His blood to obtain peace be-
tween us and God. Consider its usefulness upon spec-
tators, friends, enemies, young converts, and other
churches.
Although the general spirit of father's discourses
was more profound, they were not lacking in life, but
still abounded in hope, and were delivered with a force
and zeal not common to old age.
We have now reached 1880. No change in the pas-
torate of the four churches last named has yet taken
place; his health is yet reasonably good for one of his
age; having a wiry constitution, he has ever with-
stood extremes of cold and heat better than the aver-
age man. Pew men could ride so long in the cold.
He perceives now that his ability to withstand such
exposure is declining, and in consequence of repeated
attacks of cold, resulting from long journeys in disa-
greeable weather to meet his appointments, he now
finds it expedient to remain at home many times
in winter to the disappointment of his congregation.
He, however, was yet fully in the work and pursued
his studies with the same interest of former years, and
was as eager to meet his appointments and preach to the
Rev. Johnson Olive. 283
people as at any time in his' life, and allowed nothing
over which he had control to interfere with this duty.
He was through all these years a ready talker, jovial
and easy in manners almost to a fault. At no time
did he enjoy a higher degree of confidence among his
churches than at this time. There is now on the part
of many a feeling toward him akin to that of a son
or daughter for a kind father. They could approach
him with a freedom and ease rarely existing between
people in this life; and not a single instance can be
cited where harm grew out of this confidence.
/
CHAPTER XXIV
The year 1881 will be noted for the great temper-
ance movement in North Carolina. By act of the
Legislature which assembled during the previous
wintel* the prohibition question was submitted to the
qualified voters of the State. A very interesting and
exciting canvass of this question through the news-
papers, circulars, tracts, and from the rostrum and the
stump followed. The ministry of most denominations
favored the measure. Some of them were active in
instructing the people upon this important question.
Father moved very quietly and slowly in this in-
stance. Being of a conservative turn of mind gener-
ally, he feared the sacred stand might be lowered in
its dignity and importance, and lose some of its power
for good. He rather leaned in the outset to moral
284 The Life and Times of
suasion, but as the campaign neared the end, and as
he read and investigated the subject more closely, and
understood the advocates of both sides, he- declared
his faith in the cause of prohibition, believing it to be
the cause of God. He only spoke with his friends in
private for awhile, but at length seeing the advocates
of license using his name in their behalf, he wrote a
note to the Biblical Recorder, wherein he stated that
his friends very much misunderstood him if they
thought he would throw his influence in the interest
of the whiskey traffic. The question that had most
weight with him was the idea that the government
should license an evil so destructive of the welfare of
her citizens, a thing directly in conflict v/ith her pur-
poses and aims. ^
Seeing so much division among his people upon
this subject, he thought it bes tnot to agitate it among
his churches, but trusted to mild, gentle influ-
ences, believing that when they came to understand
and appreciate the situation, that they would do
what was right. He considered how difficult it was
to work a revolution in sentiment, and how slowly re-
forms usually move, and chose to patiently await the
great change that was coming. It would thereby take
deeper root, and consequently result in greater good.
During these years of his life he was really less im-
pressed by passing events, and his ministry was con-
stantly directed towards the cross of Christ and the
shore beyond. He labored faithfully to win souls to
Christ, to strengthen Christians and awaken all to ac-
tive life. With great earnestness he depicted the hor-
Rev. Johnson Olive. 285
rors of sin and the beauties of holiness; the dangers
of delay, the duty of promptness.
From 1881 he began to realize that his powers of
endurance were failing, and desired to diminish his
labors. He found it impossible to attend his appoint-
ments promptly. Seldom confined to his room, but
often too feeble to go away from home. The churches
were slow to give him up. At times his health would
revive, and he would go about his pastoral work with
as much eagerness as ever. Thus he spent most of the
remaining days of his life. A sense of duty to him-
self, to his brethren and to the cause impelled him to
reduce his labors. In 1882 his labors were limited to
Pleasant Grove, near where he lived, New Bethel and
Mount Moriah. Notwithstanding his decline in health
and frequent absence, his charges were still blessed
with a fair degree of prosperity. There were many lay
brethren who were active workers, and would readily
conduct a prayer meeting service in his absence. Be-
sides, during these years of service several promising
young ministers had been reared up in his churches,
who, upon occasions ol his absence, often conducted
the services. In this way light and life were still pre-'
served during his years of feebleness among the
churches of his charge. Toward the close of 1883 he
tendered his resignation as pastor to the church at
Mount Moriah. He had served here successively since
the beginning of the year 1868, a period of sixteen
years. A large number of its membership then exist-
ing had come in during, his pastorate. His labors
here had been signally blessed. No stronger earthly
286 The Life and Times of
ties could possibly exist. Their doors, their hearts,
their purses were always open to him. Father's coun-
tenance always beamed with joy when he spoke of
Mount Moriah and her people. He had some warm
friends here whose conversions he was never permitted
to witness. They contributed liberally to his support,
attended his preaching, and often had him to spend a
night or evening with them. May his labors and
prayers for them not be in vain. Dear reader, are you
that man ? Try to meet him in heaven.
The occasion of his taking leave of the church will
long live in the memory of this people. He prepared
some verses expressive in some degree of his feelings
upon taking leave of this congregation :
"SOME VERSES
Selected, composed and arranged by the Pastor of
Mt. Moriah Church, to be sung on his taking leave
of the church and congregation after his resigna-
TION.
Farewell, my dear brethren, farewell for awhile.
We'll soon meet again if kind Providence smile ;
And when we are parted and scattered abroad,
We'll pray for each other and trust in the Lord,
Farewell, younger brethren just listed for war —
Sore trials await you, but Jesus is near;
He's full of compassion and mighty to save—
His arms are extended your souls to receive.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 287
The world, the devil and sin all unite
, In bold opposition your souls to affright ;
But Jesus, your leader, is stronger than they;
Let this animate you, and march on your way.
Farewell loving sisters, your bounty, is large,
In love and friendship your duty discharge;
Although you, like Mary and Martha of old,
When Jesus is coming your sorrows unfold.
Your homes have been lovely and pleasant to me
When sharing your bounty and friendship so free;
And when I am travelling and lonely do roam,
I'll always rejoice to think of your home.
Farewell younger children in Sunday School bound.
While some of your members the Savior has found.
Although you are young and so tender in age,
King Jesus is coming your souls to engage.
Farewell friendly sinner, for you I must grieve,
To think of your danger while careless you live ;
The Judgment approaches, oh ! think of your doom !
And turn to the Savior while yet you have room.
Farewell Mount Moriah, the church of my care —
My love and affection you ever shall share;
And when I am absent and travelling alone.
I'll pray for this people who seem like my own.
Farewell congregation, farewell all around.
Perhaps we'll not meet till the last trump shall sound ;
To meet me in glory please now take your stand —
Our Savior to praise in the heavenly band."
A good brother of Mt. Moriah Church writes that no
one can fully appreciate these verses and the occasion
288 The Life and Times of
upon which they were used who was not present. He
was very much in the spirit on that day — all the
powers of the soul at play. After reading the verses
in a clear, impressive tone, he sang them with much
power and unction, and when he had closed there
were few dry eyes in the large congregation. He had
a clear, musical voice, full of pathos, and could throw
the whole powers of his soul into it asfew men could do.
The brother above referred to adds: "In speaking
of his singing it recalls to my mind a picture I shall
never forget. It was the last night he spent at my
house, and was on the occasion of his last visit as
pastor to Mt. Moriah Church. There were a few friends
besides him with us, and the crowd had been singing,
accompanied by the organ. Brother Olive was asked
to sing a few pieces alone with the organ. He called
for two or three of his old favorite pieces and sang
while the organ played. He threw his whole soul into
them, and appeared to be almost oblivious to his sur-
roundings, and carried away in the spirit to other
scenes of bliss and joy, and to be enjoying an antepart
of heaven. All seemed to be inspired with a feeling
akin to awe. The atmosphere of the room seemed
charged, and the Holy Spirit's presence appeared to be
felt. While thinking of him as he appeared that
night, his age, his bright face, beaming with honesty,
peace and joy, his far-away look, &c., I was forcibly
reminded of St. Paul's triumphant expression : " I have
fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have
kept the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for me a
Rev. Johnson Olive. 289
crown of righteousness which the Lord the righteous
Judge shall give me,"&c., &c
As an evidence of the feeling on the part of Mt-
Moriah Church in accepting his resignation, we here
append a resolution adopted by that church at the
time :
A TESTIMONIAL.
Whereas, Our aged and beloved pastor, Rev. Johnson
Olive, whose earnest and faithful labors as pastor of Mt. Moriah
Church for the past fifteen years has been signally blessed
and honored of God in the conversion of many souls, and the
building up of the church, has been impelled by advanced age,
failing health and the great distance from his home, to resign
a charge which he has advanced from a weak and inefficient
one, to one of the most prosperous, benevolent and zealous in
the Raleigh Association, no less than two hundred having been
added to its membership during his pastorate, among whom
are many of the most zealous, active and useful christians;
Therefore he it resolved, That while we believe it to be our
faithful duty to accept his resignation as pastor, yet it is with
the greatest sorrow and regret that we sever a relation which
has been so dear, pleasant and agreeable in all respects, and
in every way accompanied by such happy results.
Resolved farther, That Mt. Moriah Church tenders him a
hearty invitation to visit us as often as he can do so, assurinsr
him that the prayers and best wishes of this church shall ac-
company him wherever he may under the providence of God
be called to labor. We pray that the pleasure of the Lord
may continue to prosper under his hand, and that his path-
way may be as the shining light that groweth brighter until
the perfect day. And finally, when his labors are ended, that
he may tiear the welcome: "Well done, good and faithful
servant, enter thou into the Joy of thy Lord."
13
290 The Life and Times of
Thus ended a long, happy and prosperous relation-
ship. He lived but little over one year from the ter-
mination of this pleasant union. He was not per-
mitted to be with this people much during the short
time remaining to him, but we feel assured that the
spirit pervading both song and resolutions was never
departed from.
During 1884 he preached at Gary Church twice each
month, and at Holly Spring and New Bethel each once
per month, all of these appointments being within a
few hours' ride of his home. Everything about the
man indicated that he felt that his days were about
ended ; yet he was far from being sad, gloomy or de-
spondent. At times he spoke freely and cheerfully
upon this subject, and would sometimes ask his com-
panion what she would do in case of his death, and
otherwise advise with her as to her best course to pur-
sue in case of his departure. She generally answered
that she might depart first. He very feelingly stated
that he did not feel so ; that his time was short; that
he was ready and willing to die; his feelings shrank
from the thought of leaving friends and loved ones
here, but there were many to join on the other
shore.
Through the greater part of the year 1884 he was
enabled to attend most of his appointments. His
preaching was much as it had been for several years
past, and his churches were usually prosperous.
During the fall of this year he had the most serious
attack experienced thus far during his life. The cause
seemed to be the loss of force about the liver. He was
Rev. Johnson Olive. 291
much prostrated, and at times hope of his recovery
was abandoned. The least exertion resulted in sink-
ing down and loss of all consciousness for a moment,
which very much excited his family, but disappeared
as soon as strength was regained. He was unable to
be at his appointments during the closing months of
this year. He seemed impressed with the truth that
his earthly labors were drawing to a close. He had
long felt deep concern for his aged companion who
had entered upon life's voyage with him in the days
of his youth, when hope was strong and prospects
bright for a happy voyage. And in memory of her
faithfulness in health, in affliction and in death in the
family, and most of all her untiring devotion to him
through weal and through woe, her love, her kindness,
her attention never abating through his long years of
darkness and despair, he at last resolved to leave his
quiet, peaceful home, his kind and afiPectionate neigh-
bors, and look for a home where his companion could
be more in company in his absencej'and have more
convenient protection in case of his departure. He
accordingly made selection of a home in the village of
Apex, Wake county, and on the 9th day of December,
1884, entered the same with the expectation of spend-
ing here the remainder of his life. Being yet feeble,
unfavorable weather kept him much at home during
the few weeks that followed.
He attended the Sunday School Christmas tree at
Apex Baptist church on the night of Christmas eve,
and greatly enjoyed the presence of the children. He
292 The Life and Times op
seemed to have a live conce[)tion of their anxiety
about the presents.
For the year 1885 he had accepted the pastorate of
Holly Spring, Swift Creek, Gary and New Bethel
churches, and on the 2nd Saturday in January, hav-
ing gained much strength during the past four weeks,
he went to his appointment at Holly Spring and
preached Saturday and Sunday. On Sunday he
preached from 2nd chapter of Phillipians, 16th verse:
" Holding forth the word of life that I may rejoice in
the day of Christ that I have no't run in vain, neither
labored in vain."
This was his last regular sermon. He made no al-
lusion to any impression on his own mind of this na-
ture, yet he could not have selected a more appro-
priate text had he been so impressed. It was here in
August, 1860, that he preached his last sermon before
darkness came over his mind, and it was here that he
preached his last on earth. Many of his brethren and
sisters thought this the best sermon of his life. He
returned home Sabbath evening, went by invitation to
the prayer meeting that night at the Baptist church,
and conducted the exercises by reading a portion of
Scripture and making some remarks therefrom, occu-
pying the floor. During the early part of the week
following he was summoned to Raleigh as witness in
Superior Court. On his return he appeared much re-
vived, as he here met with many friends whom he
had not seen for a great while. On his return home
Wednesday night some friends stopped with him for
the night. With them and some of his neighbors he
Rev. Johnson Olive. 293
set up to a late hour discussing the difFerebt features
of his new home, his visit to the city, &c., with much
animation and interest. This was the last night spent
in health on earth. How little any of us know of the
future. The next day the disease whereof he died set
to work. At night I was summoned to go to see him.
I found him laying down and in much pain, which
indicated torpidity of the liver. He suffered greatly
at times until about 11 o'clock, when he grew easy and
rested well during the remainder of the night.
There was no improvement from this time onward.
He experienced very little pain after the first few
hours from the attack, but was so much prostrated
thereby that he never regained strength, but contin-
ued to grow weaker each day. No alarm was felt till
Sunday morning.
Early after breakfast I went to see him, and found
him cheerful and free to talk, as far as his strength
would permit. While reading some brief extracts
from the papers upon subjects usually interesting to
him, I saw the marks of fever upon his cheeks He
dropped to sleep and began talking at random upon
the subject suggested by our reading. Upon arousing
up he showed that his condition was more critical.
The village physician, who had been absent up to
this time, (as had also his former family physician)
was now summoned to his bedside. Father was ac-
quainted of our move before the arrival of the phy-
sician, and cheerfully submitted to our wish. Every
attention possible was now given ; many friends and
kindred called to see him ; he appeared to suffer but
294 The Life and Times of
little; was quiet; spoke when called upon to speak;
was perfectly rational; recognized all, yet from weak-
ness preferred not to talk, and to lie most of the time
in perfect quiet. His thirst for water was insatiate,
and in order to break the monotony of his continued
plea in a weak voice, he occasionally repeated the Ian
guage of David while in the cave of Adullam: "Oh!
that some one would give me drink from the well that
stands by the gate of Bethlehem,"
His inability to talk with any degree of ease led him
to seek quiet through his sickness, and thus he said but
little during the last few days of his life. This led
many of his friends to think he did not know them,
but to those who were much with him it was appar-
ent that he. knew perfectly well all that was passing
around him, and readily recognized the voice of an
acquaintance. When informed of the presence of
any one, he gave ready recognition by a nod of
the head, seldom opening his eyes for any purpose.
One friend whom he had known from childhood,
and had taught in former days as pupil, and who had
ever occupied a warm place in his afiPections, called to
see him a few days before his death. Finding him so
weak he remained some time before addressing him-
self to father. At length he came to his bedside, and
in his usual quick tone of voice and friendly appella-
lation says: "Johnnie, do you know me?" " I think
I ought to," was the quick reply, as if to say, I have
seen you in many places — in childhood, in youth and
in manhood; your character has impressed me; I
Rev. Johnson Olive. 295
can never forget you, even here in the valley of death ;
I know you well.
Day before his death his youngest son called to see
him. He did not make himself known, so little of life
remained to the father. The son was much around
the bed of the sinking father. It was discovered that
the father had his eyes about half opened, and fixed
upon some object between himself and the window
near by. At this moment he was informed that this,
his youngest son, was- present to see him. He replied
very pointedly: " Don't you reckon I see him?"
He passed Friday night quietly sleeping most of the
time, and apparently in no great pain.
WhenSaturday morning (January 24th, 1885) arrived,
it was evident that the end was nigh. Perfectly quiet,
the limbs, body and features all fixed, breathingslightly
difficult, but gradually growing shorter and easier,
seemingly all consciousness gone, and here for six
or eight hours, as if by nature's power alone, he lay
unmoved, not a word or struggle, and breathed his
last.
The death-bed is always a place of profound thought.
It could not be less so upon the death of one w^ho had
lived as had the subject of this work ; one who had
given the greater part of his life work for the good of
others, and who had so often been heard to pray for
Divine guidance when this eventful hourshouldcome,
and had given so many faithful warnings to others to
prepare for the sure messenger of death. How many
hearts will be saddened by the new^s of his death ;
what loss will be felt! That voice that has been so
296 The Life and Times of
often and so long sounding from the sacred desk, from
the door-way, from the brush arbor, warning sinners
to flee the wrath to come, and exhorting christians to
duty, is now still in death.
Do christians know each other in heaven ; do we go
at once to God when we die ? Who is there to greet
father when he arrives? Christ is there, the holy men
of old of whom he has been so long talking, singing
and preaching are all there, and during the sixty-nine
years lived \ie has formed the acquaintance of many
who have gone before. His father and mother are
there; some brothers and four dear children are there ;
yea, this does not tell all ; from Shady Grove, Holly
Spring, Olive's Chapel, Bethany, Pisgah, Cedar Fork,
Salem, Piny Grove, Pleasant Grove, Epheus, Gary,
New Bethel, and Mt. Moriah, and other fields of labor,
great crowds have gone during his sojourn of forty
years among them. He will meet many dear friends
there. There will surely be a happy greeting.
Such are some of the thoughts that crowded our
mind. While there were thoughts of sadness, there
were more of joy. The death bed of a godly man or
woman is not wholly a place of gloom. We can here
thank God for heaven and for salvation through
Jesus Christ, and that we too are invited to come.
Whoever has a father or mother in heaven must feel
strongly drawn theretoward.
His life, his character was so deeply impressed upon
the hearts of those with whom he freely commingled
that for a long while it was hard to realize that he was
dead. It is not difficult now, with the eye of the mind,
Rev. Johnson Olive. 297
to see biin zealously pouring forth the great emotions
of his soul from the sacred stand, and at the close of
his discourse see him straighten himself up to his full
heiglit, lean a little backward and join in singing some
favorite hymn.
The family were soon consulted as to his place of
burial, funeral services, (fee. It was their pleasure to
have his remains deposited in the burial ground of
the Apex Baptist Church, and to have the funeral dis-
course before interment.
Monday was a cold, bleak day, but this did not
keep the crowd away. Long before the hour of service
old and young of those who had known him in life
were gathering in the village. Some who had never
been seen here before, and will never be seen here
again, were present. Many were anxious to get a last
look at one they had so much loved.
The following ministering brethren were present:
Rev. J. C. Wilson, Rev. Jessee Howell, Rev. T. W.
Young, Rev. J. M. White, Rev. J. M. Holleman, Rev.
H. W. Norris, Hev. A. D. Hunter and Rev. J. W. F.
Rogers.
The funeral discourse was preached by Rev. T. W.
Young, attended with masonic honors. Text 12th
Daniel 3d verse: "And they that be wise shall shine
as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn
many to righteousness as the stars forever and ever."
During the burial service the hymn so often used
by the deceased at the close of his service, and perhaps
the favorite of his life, was sung. These words are so
much a part of him we here give them :
298 The Life and Times of
" 'Tis religion that can give
Sweetest pleasures while we live ;
'Tis religion must supply
Solid comforts when we die ;
After death its joys will be
Lasting as eternity.
Be thou, living God my friend,
And then my bliss shall never end."
Father had accepted the pastorate of Swift Creek
Church, Wake county, for the year 1885; accordingly,
at the time of his death was pastor of Swift Creek,
Cary, Holly Spring and New Bethel Churches.
CHAPTER XXV. /
With no desire to make a display of anything father
did (for such in his lifetime would have be^i objec-
tionable to him), but as a matter of information, and
more as a matter of encouragement to every one who
is engaged in doing good, and who may read this
work, I give here some probable estimates of his life
work. Leaving out whatever he ma^^ have accom-
plished in youth in the prayer meeting and elsewhere
we have seen that' his first appointment to preach was
in 1842, although not licensed for the space of five
years thereafter, he is most of this time actively in the
ministry, and for tw^o or three years before his ordina-
tion is the pastor of several churches. We have also
seen that from August, 1860, to August, 1865, a space
Rev. Johnson Olive. 299
of five years,) that he was idle from the work. These
accounts give about thirty-seven years of active life in
the ministry. It is not unreasonable to say that
during this time he preached 5,000 discourses. His
usual health was good ; he saw but few idle Saturdays
and Sundays, and often preached in the week on
funeral and revival occasions.
The direct results of his work we have no means of
knowing. Some strong and influential churches were
built up under his care. He passed through many re-
vival seasons, where the ingathering was large. In
manv instances God used other influences to bring
about these results besides father, yet we have reason
to hope that many souls were brought into the fold
through him as an instrumentality. The spiritual
growth and development of church members is by no
means a minor part of work, and here we trust a good
work was done, and thereby the Gospel leaven spread
far and wide. If with the life of man his influence
ended, his life services could be better estimated, but
we have reason to believe that every man who takes
any part in life, either for good or bad, sets in motion
a train of circumstances which move on and on
through all time. Even if his nation should perish, his
history, a part of which he has helped to fashion, lives
and has its influence upon those which survive. In
view of this fact, may we not hope that the life of our
subject was what he ever desired it to be, a blessing to
humanity, and that his influence for good may live on
and on forever.
We give the following as an expression of the feel-
300 The Life and Times of
ing existing on the part of his brethren and acqaint-
ances, also the expression of his churches after his
decease :
Rev, Johnson Olive, of this county, one of the most popular
and beloved ministers of the State, died at his residence in
Apex, on Saturday the 24th. Brother Olive was widely known
and greatly loved by his brethren. He was a member of the
North Carolina Baptist Ministers' Life Association. A worthy,
devoted and faithful minister of the Gospel of Christ. A
more extended notice of his death will appear next week. —
Biblical Recorder.
REV. JOHNSON OLIVE.
This remarkable man spent- his life near the home of his
birth, and was scarcely known, except by reputation, beyond
the limits of Wake county. Yet he numbered among his
friends a large majority of those who lived in his county and
was respected and loved by neighbors and friends in the highest
degree. He was possessed of a strong natural mind and a will
of imperial force. In appearance he was striking and com-
manding; always self-possessed and reserved. He unbosomed
himself to none but his most trusted and intimate friends. If
he had grievances, he never told them to strangers or casual
acquaintances. He kept his thoughts to himself, and acted
independently of the thoughts or opinions of others. At one
period of his life, extending through three or four years, be
retired from the ministry, and remained silent, almost speech-
less. He often referred to this as "the time of his darkness.'?
Notwithstanding this, he was before and after the period re-
ferred to, a most genial companion, cheerful and witty, yet dig-
nified and guarded in his words and actions. As a man he was
absolutely honest and fair in his every word and deed. He
Rev. Johnson Olive. 301
scorned hypocrisy, deceit and dishonesty. His word was mora
than a written bond. As a friend he was unselfish and oblig-
ing, as a counsellor he was safe. It was these traits of char-
acter that gave him his position and influence among men, and
caused them to consult him and trust him in temporal as well
as in spiritual matters.
Bro. Olive was an able minister of the gospel. Without
ambition for place or power, he studied to rightly divide the
Word and benefit his hearers. His sermons were for the in-
struction of the people, not to please them. What he saw
and knew he testified to. He held a commission from the
Master, and or '.ered all his words and actions by it. His
preaching was often in power and demonstration of the Spirit.
The people heard him gladly. The church that called him to
its pastorate and asked for his ordination in 1847, retained his
services to the end of his pilgrimage. His first and last ser-
mons were preached in the same pulpit.
Our brother was not afraid of death; he waited his ap-
pointed time; in his sixty-ninth' year it came, and he spent
Sunday, the 25th of January, amid the light and joy of heaven,
where there is no night, and where the weary are at rest.
The following particulars of his last hours are furnished by
one who was with him through his sickness :
" For several years it has been perceptible that his physical
strength was failing. Exposure and articles of diet affected
him as they did not in former years. On the evening of Jan-
uary 15th he was attacked with severe pain in his right side.
During the early part of the night he suffered much, but grew
quiet later in the night. Next day it was manifest that he had
lost much of his strength from the attack the evening before.
He was cheerful, patient and lesigned throughout his entire
illness.
"During his illness he often repeated the language of David
while in the cave of Adullam: 'Oh that one would give me
drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the
gate.' He was conscious up to the morning of his death and
knew all his friends who called to see him. Yet from prostra-
302 The Life and Times of
tion he talked but little during the last three days of his life.
He said but little about dying. One coming into his presence
was made to feel that he had made arrangements for the su-
preme struggle before it came. He lived ten days after his
attack. During the last few days of his life he seemed to suffer
almost no pain. He died at 4 o'clock Saturday, January 24th,
was buried on Monday in the church grave yard at Apex. The
funeral services were conducted by Rev. Dr. T. W. Young. —
Biblical Recorder Editorial.
THE LATE REV. JOHNSON OLIVE.
In the history of the Raleigh Baptist Association, for the
last twenty years, no name, either as a minister or lay mem-
ber, will appear more prominent than the name of Johnson
Olive. It was a name familiar to children, to the household,
to members of the churches, to ministers and to the masses.
One great secret of Bro. Olive's life was his magnanimity of
soul. He scorned that which was low, sordid and mean ; yet
he did it not by bitter, harsh or repulsive protest, but rather
by gentle, yet pointed, pleasant, forcible and instructive dec-
laration. It was his pleasant demeanor, genial disposition
and sympathy that elevated him in the estimation of the peo-
ple. Of a forgiving disposition, always holding the olive
branch in his hand, he walked in and out as a sweet messenger
of peace. That which was praiseworthy, tending to elevate
the standard of usefulness — social and moral — was to him a
feast of reason and flow of soul. Hence it may be said of
him, he served his generation, marking out and delineating
the true aim of life, that of doing good and getting good.
As a minister of the gospel, he was faithful and efficient;
devoted to his calling, loving his flock and pleading earnestly
with the unbeliever for the conversion of his soul. He loved
to preach the gospel to the people, and although he W9,s not
strictly textual, nevertheless he deviated not from the essence,
Rev. Johnson Olive. 303
the marrow and the truth of the gospel. In his preaching he
would take a wide range of thought; from the mountain top,
the hill side, the valley, the running brook, the cool spring, the
everlasting doctrines of the gospel distilled its sweetness over
all. The people loved to hear him preach, and the churches
generally were anxious to secure his pastoral labors. He had
so thoroughly identified himself with the churches of the
Raleigh Association that he was really a part or parcel of that
body. He served as an ordained minister, principally, in the
limits of the Raleigh Association for thirty-seven years. Hence
many received baptism at his hands, many received the right
hand of fellowship in behalf of the church, and many ser-
mons fell from his lips. Especially did he seem to be a fa-
vorite in preaching funeral sermons. He had a poetical genius,
and some of his sacred poetry will be sung long after his bones
have returned to dust.
Bro. Olive was not communicative, gave little unsolicited
advice, said little about grievances, imparted little of uncalled
for or unexpected information. He was communicative in the
way of usefulness. You could easily locate him when he took
a stand in a deliberative body. He was firm, considerate and
cautious in debate, always keeping the landmark before him
and pressing to the centre. He was witty and sarcastic — yet
his sarcasm was so tempered by his sweet nature tha.t they were
really enjoyed.
This brother has " served his generation by the will of God
and has fallen on sleep," a slev^.p from which none ever wak^
to weep, who died in the arms of Jesus. He has passed from
earth to heaven. His life's record is a memorial of his love to
his Maker's cause. He died, after a few days illness, in his
sixty ninth year, in the embrace of his family.' His funeral
services were attended by an unusually large congregation,
and so anxious were they to see his, last remains, both white
and black, that the pressure was so great as to^almost forbid
an entrance to the room where he lay. His funeral services
were conducted at the Apex Baptist church on January 24th,
by Rev. Dr. T. W. Young, from Daliiel 12th chapter 3d verse :
304 The Life and Times of
**And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the
firmament : and they that turn many to righteousness, as the
stars forever and ever." Precious promise, glorious recom-
pense. His body was laid to its last resting place by the Ma-
sonic fraternity in the church graveyard at Apex, N. C. And
now farewell for a little while, and as the wave-beat of fare-
well floats along down the passage of time, may it sparkle
into a welcome ! welcome ! upon the other shore. T. W. Y.
In Biblical Recorder^ February 8th, 1885.
"B. C. B." IN BIBLICAL RECORDER.
We regret so much the loss of our dear brother. Rev. John-
son OUve, who was loved by many, especially those to whom
he preached. He wore but one face to his hearers, and a
more christian-like countenance we never saw. Under the
sound of his matchless voice I was converted. Can I forget
the day ? No, never, never. He was indeed a remarkable
man. We hope some day (by God's sustaining hand) to meet
brother Olive across the chilling river, where we can walk with
him the crystal pavement of yonder blissful world. He has paid
the debt we all must pay; sooner or later death will knock at
our door; will we be ready or not ? God help us to live such
a life, so we can walk that crystal pavement. We will not
forget the dear wife. God comfort her in her lonely hours.
RESOLUTIONS OF RESPECT.
Shady Grove Church, Raleigh Association, in memory of
Rev. Johnson Olive, who died at his residence in Apex, N. C,
on the 24th of January, 1885, in the 69th year of his age,
submits the following :
Rev. Johnson Olive. 305
Whereas, It has pleased the Allwise Ruler of the universe
to take from his earthly career our much beloved brother, and
as he was a member of our church from the time he was
baptized (which was in his early life), up to his death, having
been reared in this community, and as he was pastor of
this, his mother church, for many years; therefore be it
Resolved, 1st. That it is with much sorrow that we have
to take our leave of him ; and yet we are profoundly grate-
ful that his faith was strong in life, failing him not in death.
2d. That we will ever remember with gratitude his zeal as
a christian, his great usefulness and efficiency as a preacher
of the Gospel of the Son of God, believing also that he is
gone to that rest that remaineth for the righteous.
3d. That it be our purpose in the future to follow him as he
followed Christ.
4th. That we do hereby tender to his bereaved widow our
sympathy in this her great affliction.
5th. That these resolutions be sent to the Biblibal Recorder,
with request to publish, be placed on our church-book, and
a copy be sent to his widow. B. B. Freeman,
S. H. Wilson,
A. C. Richardson,
Committee.
At a conference of Gary Baptist Church, held on Febru-
ary 28th, 1885, it was resolved to place upon the records of
the church an expression of our deep sorrow at the loss, by
death, of our beloved pastor, Johnson Olive, and while we
sorrow and realize our loss, we know it to be his eternal
gain. There has been no man in the community more be-
loved and faithful in the discharge of duty as pastor, preacher,
neighbor and friend ; and we can truly say, he has fought a
good fight and finished the work of his Master, and now
wears the crown. May we follow his example as he fol-
lowed Christ Jesus.
306 The Life and Times of
Resolved, That a copy of these proceedings be sent to the
family of our brother, and they also be published in the
Biblical Recorder. C. H. Clarke,
Sim. Holleman,
February 28, 1885, Committee,
Whereas, We, the members of the Holly Spring Bap-
tist Church, realize that in the death of our beloved pas-
tor, Rev. Johnson Olive, we have been greatly bereaved ; so
long and so faithfully has he gone in and out before us as
our shepherd, that we feel peculiarly afflicted now that he
is gone. With us he began his ministry; to us he preached
his last sermon, and to many of us his last seemed his best.
He was a discreet pastor, a wise counsellor, a good preacher,
a lovely christian. He now rests from his labors and his
works follow him. The battle is fought, the victory won, the
warfare ended. Ere the body was cold we doubt not the
spirit heard from his Lord: "Well done, good and faithful
servant." Let us, his fiock, remember his teachings, follow
his examples, that we may meet him in " The Sweet Bye and
Bye."
Resolved, That a copy of this be- spread on our minutes, a
copy be sent to his bereaved family, assuring them of our
sympathy in this their sore affliction, and that a copy be sent
to the Biblical Recorder. J; M. White,
D. B. Holland,
J. D. Marcom,
Committee.
In the dispensation of an Allwise Providence God has seen
fit to take from our midst our much beloved and honored pas-
tor, Rev. Johnson Olive, who died at his late residence in
Apex, on January 24th, 1885, after several days of patient
Rev. Johnson Olive. 307
suffering, leaving behind him the companion of his declining
years, and four children, three sons and one daughter.
He served us faithfully in a ministerial capacity for many
years, endearing himself to all with whom he associated, by
his genial and pleasant manners. But in no place did he ap-
pear more attractive than in the pulpit, proclaiming the ever-
lasting Gospel of Christ to an attentive and listening congre-
gation, encouraging the christian, and with much pathos in
his gentle manner, warning the sinner to be reconciled to
God.
And while we are lamenting the recent loss we have sus-
tained in this sad bereavement, we bow in child-like and hum-
ble submission, believing that he is now a seraph in a brighter
and happier clime, enjoying the full fruition of a blissful
eternity, an everlasting joy, of which he so vividly and beau-
tifully spoke while here on earth.
At a called meeting of the church at New Bethel, on Sat-
urday, February 28th, the following resolution was unani-
mously adopted :
Resolved, That a copy of this resolution be sent to the
family of the deceased, that a copy be placed on our church-
book, also that a copy be sent to the Biblical Recorder for
publication. ' • Rom. Sturdevant,
John S. Johns,
Committee.
Biographical sketch, read before the Raleigh Asso-
ciation at its session with Inwood Church, October,
1885.
ELDER JOHNSON OLIVE
was born in Chatham county, North Carolina, June 7th, 1816.
His boyhood was spent on a farm, attending, at intervals, such
primary schools as the neighborhood afforded. During his
youth he often felt concerned for his soul's salvation. In that
308 The Life and Times of
day camp-meetings were quite common. He attended one at
Buckhorn, Chatham county, in 1837. Here he repented and
believed, and was soon after baptized by Elder P. W. Dowd,
a member of Shady Grove Church. In the neighborhood
prayer-meetings he first began to lead in public prayer — then
in the church. Having a good voice for singing, and being
otherwise gifted, his pastor, Elder Dowd, took special interest
in him, urging him to go to school and prepare himself for
future usefulness, not hinting that some day he might want to
preach. Taking his pastor's advice, he entered Thompson's
Academy (George W. Thompson, Principal), in the northern
part of Wake county. He also attended Pleasant Hill Acad-
emy, in Chatham county, Baxter Clegg, Principal. After
thus having been at school some time, he returned home. He
soon began to teach in the family of his old pastor, in 1841.
Elder Dowd and wife were exceedingly kind to him and inter-
ested in him, which begot in him a life-long attachment for
them. - .
During this year (1841), he married Martha IJunter, daugh-
ter of Alsey Hunter, of Wake county, and settled near where
Olivers Chapel now is, where for a time he engaged in farm-
ing. During this time he was much impressed and concerned
about his duty to enter the ministry. He felt that he must
do something more than he was doing. The great question in
his mind was, "Lord, what wilt Jbhou have me to do?" He
began to make appointments for "religious services" at
the neighboring churches.
He talked with much freedom and efiect. Pastors around
him began to have him fill their appointments. In after life
he often spoke of this period, and always made most affection-
ate allusions to Elders Dowd, James Dennis and Jesse Howell.
He was licensed to preach soon,' and five years later, by re-
quest of his church, he was ordained at the Raleigh Associa-
tion, meeting at Cumberland Union Church (now in Harnett) ,
in the year 1847. Ministers present : John Purefoy, James S.
Purefoy, William Jones, David Williams, S. Senter, Ezekiel
Holland, James Dennis and Robert J. Dennis. He then took
Rev. Johnson Olive. 309
charge of and held the pastorate for a number of years of the
churches at Shady Grove, Mt. Pisgah, Holly Spring and Cedar
Fork.
He was very active in the ministry till 1861 ; he then was
afflicted with " spiritual darkness" — such he called it. His
many friends were much saddened by it, for he ceased to
preach entirely. Some thought he had lost his mind, but he
always insisted that such was not the case; that his judgment,
memory, mental powers, all were the same as ever. He said
for some purpose the Lord had withdrawn spiritual light from
him ; that he could not hold communion with God as he had
done before, and as he did afterwards. Be this as it may, he
was for nearly four years a very miserable man. Gradually
the darkness began to lift, and light and joy began to break
in upon his spirit. He again, in 1865, entered actively upon
his ministry, and remained at his post till the Master called
him home to rest. This took place at his new home in Apex,
January 24th, 1885. At the time of his death he was pastor of
Gary, Holly Springs, Swift Creek and New Bethel churches.
His last sermon was at Holly Springs, from the text, Phil. 2 :
16., "Holding forth the word of life, that I may rejoice in the
day of Christ that I have not run in vain, neither labored in
vain " It seems almost prophetic. Many thought it his best
sermon. His body lies in the village and church burying-
ground at Apex, ]Sf. C. J. M. White.
REV. JOHNSON OLIVE'S ATTACHMENT TO CHILDREN.
In contemplating the remarks of Rev. Johnson Olive to a
young minister upon the occasion of his ordination, we very
readily conclude that one of the great secrets of his success in
life, in drawing the masses to him, and gaining the confidence
of the people, was his peculiar attachment to and fondness for
the little ones with whom he met. His admonition to that
young brother just entering upon his great life-work was quite
310 The Life and Times of
impressive, illustrating how first impressions are most lasting,
and how in early years the taking by the hand a little boy or
girl would inspire that confidence and esteem which in after
years may be necessary to approach the youth successfully on
the all-important subject of the soul's salvation. Our ven-
erable brother had passed a long and useful life throwing out
those influences on the right and on the left, until he was
surrounded by a generation whose confidence he entirely pos-
sessed, and who only knew him best to love him most. Thus
he exhorted the young brother just, ordained not to forget
the little folks in his efforts to be instrumental in saving
souls. A. B. F.
Rev. Johnson Olive. 311
FATHER AS I SAW HIM.
Under this head we will close the present work. It
gives opportunity to bring in some facts which we
could not in the body of the work. One object in byo-
graphical works is to preserve the deeds and charac-
ters of men who have made themselves famous, to the
end that others may profit by their lives.
Father was not without faults. " There is not a per-
fect man on earth that doeth good and sinneth not."
Yet it is but just to say, his faults were few and his
virtues many.
As has been intimated, he doubtless owed much of
his success in life to his fondness for children and the
consideiation he gave them. His love for them was
natural, and whateveT profit it availed him in life was
more the result of a natural trait of character than the
purpose he had in view. He teased them, but did not
fret them. He was ever cautious not to disappoint
them, even in little matters, the gentle, persuasive
means which he represents as ever being so effectual
with himself, were often the great secrets of his success
with others.
I do not know anything connected with his inter-
course with his fellow-men that gave him more perma-
nent hold upon their confidence than his firm and
implicit devotion to truth, his freedom from specula-
tion in trade, his promptness towards his financial obli
312 The Life and Times of
gations. It differed not where he went or how large
his congregatioiis, there were none to say, " he owes
me and will not pay; he has forfeited his obligation
to nae; he can preach but he will come down out of
that stand and cheat you." No such feelings or
thoughts were entertained. Gossiping, and dissec-
ting of character were not countenanced by him. Not-
withstanding many of his flock conversed freely with
him about any and all matters, I do not know of an
instance where the least confusion ever arose out of
the confidence thus bestowed. He never accumulated
wealth; was economical, but had little or no desire to
be wealthy. Yet in all his life he kne-w nothing of
real want. If he lacked, he had but to make it known
and many among his acquaintances w^ere ready to re-
spond. His estimate of the things of this life were
formed with judgment, and it would be difficult to
find a man w^ho bore success better than he. His
presence gave life and light to his own home and to
the homes of others. He was ever a welcome visitor
to those who knew him.
A true interpretation to the troubles that came upon
him in 1860 we are not able to give. The opinions of
his friends widely differ. There were no external
causes which could possibly have led to it. The rela-
tion existing between himself and family w^as always
pleasant. The public had lost no interest in him.
There were no troubles in existence with any one ; his
means of support were fair, his decline into this state
was as gradual as his growth out of it. In some way
he became alarmed about his spiritual condition ; he
Rev. Johnson Olive. 313
did not feel that unction of soul that he had formerly
experienced. This continued from day to day, week
to week. In his efforts to preach or pray he had the
words and the form, but not the spirit. This was his
state for near five years. He often said he could have
preached at any time, but without the spirit. Under
this feeling he became alarmed about the salvation of
his soul, and concluded that he knew nothing of the
new birth ; that during his entire ministerial life he
had been as the blind leading the blind. The anguish
of soul and the torture of mind produced by this be-
lief and these feelings were surely akin to the pangs of
hell. He went to and fro seeking rest and finding
none, and at length desired to end his miserable exis-
tence.
We must feel that the hand of God alone shielded
him, for he was not lacking in courage, and those who
knew his disposition would naturally expect when he
made up his mind so fully upon this subject that death
would have followed. He always felt that God's hand
alone saved him. In the early stages of his trouble he
sometimes expressed a fear that a judgment would be
sent upon him and all he had in consequence of his
course. With this exception not a strange or idle
word fell from his lips during this whole period upon
any subject save those connected with himself. He
formed strange conclusions about himself and what he
must do, yet upon any and all other questions his
judgment was good. When his soul was finally freed
from these troubles, he was like the bird freed from
the cage, he realized the change, though gradual, very
314 The Life and Times of
sensibly. As his impressions to preach came on he
often remarked that he would preach if he had to
preach to the trees.
As he preached a great many funerals during his
life it may be the impression of some that he flattered
the name of the dead on such occasions. This was
not the case. He often left the audience to feel that
the man or woman was lost whose funeral sermon he
preached. He generally taught that men die as they
live, and that if he were asked what he thought of the
prospects of any one for the future life, he would esti-
mate that by the life they lived here.
He died a few months before he reached his three-
score and ten. His last days appeared to be his best
days. Although he left no immediate d}ing message,
his dying messages are yet ringing in the ears of many.
He had not waited for this critical hour but had all
along through 'his life given faithful warnings, and
was now permitted to die in peace.