MY OUTFIT FOR MY LIFE IN THE BRUSH.
Having received my commission as an agent for the American Bible
Society, and completed my preparations for entering upon my work as far
as I could do so in New York, I left that city for one of the important
cities of the Southwest, which was to be my headquarters. I knew at
the outset that I could not reach the wild regions I was to explore by
railroad, steamboat, stage, or even with my own private conveyance; I
knew that I could climb hills and mountains, follow blind bridle-paths,
ford rivers and swollen streams, only on horseback. I had several years
before had some two years' experience in constant horseback travel in
labors similar to those I was now entering upon, as superintendent of
the colporteur operations of the American Tract Society in Virginia.
There I had floundered in the marshes and swamps of "Tidewater," and
been lost amid the rugged rocks and dense forests high up the sides
and in the loftiest summits of the Blue Ridge and other mountains.
I knew that I must have a horse. This was indispensable. More than
that, I wanted a good horse, a horse broken expressly for the saddle.
To be churned for years--bump, bump, bump--upon a hard-trotting horse,
that was out of the question with me. I had but a small stock of
health and physical strength at best, and none to spare in that way.
My old friend Rev. Dr. Sprole, then of Washington, D.C., afterward
of West Point, New York, and now of Detroit, Michigan, used to tell
me, in Washington, that "Brother Leete," one of my co-workers in the
circulation of the publications of the American Tract Society, "was one
of the most self-denying Christians he had ever seen--in that he had
patience to drive such a miserable old horse in transporting his books
over the hills and mountains of Pennsylvania," where he had known him.
But I was not anxious to illustrate that particular type of piety. I
did not care to let my "light _so_ shine." I wanted not only a good
saddle-horse, but a faithful, reliable animal. I wanted one that I
could hitch to the limb of a tree, in the midst of scores or hundreds
of other horses, and leave there without any concern, while I preached
in a log meeting-house, or at a "stand" erected in a grove at some
cross-roads, or at a camp-meeting, or wherever else I should be able to
meet and address the people. I wanted a hardy horse, that could live on
the coarsest food, and stand during the coldest nights in log stables
that afforded but a little more protection from the wind and cold than
a rail fence. I wanted an easy-going, fleet horse, that would take me,
without great personal fatigue or needless waste of time, over a wide
extent of country. I wanted a horse that would scare at nothing--that,
as I had opportunity, I could lead up a plank or two, on board a noisy
stern-wheel or other Western steamer, along the banks of the rivers,
across wharf-boats, or wherever I might wish to embark for a hundred
miles or more to save a few days of horseback travel.
The "qualities" that I looked for in a horse were numerous and rare.
I was so fortunate as to find one that possessed all that I have
enumerated and many more. Was I not fortunate? Was I wrong in regarding
my good fortune as a special providence? But I did not easily find this
treasure. It was after a long search and many failures. Unable to find
such a horse as I was willing to purchase at once, I determined to
enter upon my work and get along for a time as best I could.
I therefore took stage for a point about fifty miles from headquarters,
where, after a conference with the officers of the County Bible
Society, I procured a horse for several days in order to plunge into
the Brush, make a circuit of the county, and preach at a number of
places in accordance with a programme that their familiarity with the
country enabled them to make out for me. They arranged to send my
appointments ahead to all these points but one, where I was to preach
the next day, which was the Sabbath.
I will here state that the great object of my mission to the Brush was
to effect a thorough exploration of the field assigned to me, and,
either by sale or gift, supply every family with a copy of the Bible,
except such as positively declined to receive it. To accomplish this,
I wished to gain personal knowledge of each county, to preach at as
many points as possible, in order to give information in regard to the
character and operations of the American Bible Society and the work
to be done, collect as much money as possible to meet the expenses of
this work, find and employ suitable men to canvass the counties and
visit without fail every family, and then order a supply of Bibles
and Testaments from the Society's house in New York, give them their
instructions, and set them at work. Such was my mission.
Saturday, after dinner, I mounted my horse for a ride of thirteen miles
to a small county-seat village where I was to spend the Sabbath. The
country was rough and broken, with light, sandy soil, sparsely covered
with small, scrubby oak-trees, called "black-jacks," and the region of
country was known as the "Barrens." It was barren enough. The houses
were mostly poor and comfortless, the barns small log structures, with
no stables, sheds, or covering of any kind for the cattle. They were
poor and scrawny, and their backs described a section of a semicircle
as they drew themselves into as much of a heap as possible--their only
protection against the bleak February winds. The swine were of the
original "root-hog-or-die" variety, their long, well-developed snouts
being their most prominent feature. Occasionally black, dirty, ragged
slaves--"uncles," "aunties," and their children--revealed the whites
of their eyes and their shining ivory as they stared earnestly at the
rare sight of a passing stranger. No one, with the kindest heart and
the most amiable disposition, would be able to pronounce the country
attractive or the ride a pleasant one. On arriving at the village, I
rode to a very plain house to which I had been directed, and received a
most warm and cordial welcome. Large pine-knots were soon blazing and
roaring in the ample fireplace to relieve me of the most wretchedly
disagreeable of all sensations of cold--those of a damp, clammy,
chilly winter day in the Southwest. As soon as it could possibly be
prepared, I was seated with the family at a bountiful supper. The
aroma of the richest coffee was afloat in the air, and the rarest of
fried chicken and hot corn-bread were smoking before me, flanked with
a superabundance of other dishes, that showed the perfect country
housekeeper.
My host and hostess were Presbyterians, and this was the reception they
gladly gave to any minister who visited them in their seclusion, and
preached for their little church. The bell was rung, and I preached
that (Saturday) night to a very small audience who assembled at this
brief notice. The church stood within a very few rods of the spot where
Abraham Lincoln was born.
On Sabbath morning a somewhat larger congregation assembled from the
village and country around, including some from the homes I had passed
the day before, and I made a full exposition of the character and
operations of the American Bible Society, explained the work about to
be undertaken in their own county, and made as urgent and eloquent an
appeal as I was able to, for funds to supply their own poor with the
Bible, and meet the expenses of this benevolent and Christian work.
To adopt the language universal in all this region, they "lifted a
collection" for me which amounted to six dollars and eighty-five cents.
At 3 P.M. I heard a sermon preached by the clergyman, my kind friend
and host at the other county-seat, who, according to arrangement, came
over to spend the Sabbath with me, and fill a regular appointment.
At night I preached for them again. Altogether it was to me a very
pleasant day.
Monday morning I rode back to the county-seat. There was a hard
rain-storm, and I got very wet. Tuesday morning I started on a
preaching tour of several days, to fulfill the appointments that had
been made for me. I traveled several miles to see an old man who had
been recommended for a colporteur to canvass the county; was pleased
with him, and he was afterward employed. After dinner he piloted me
through rough, broken barrens, such as I have already described, to
the place where I was to preach that night. We reached there, but my
"appointment" had not. I did not wonder it had lost its way. I lost
mine a good many times that week. However, we learned that the next day
was the regular appointment for the Methodist preacher who rode that
circuit, and I would then have an opportunity to address the people.
We spent the night very comfortably with Brother H----, to whom I had
been directed, who belonged to the class of farmers or planters known
among these people as "not rich, but good livers." In other portions
of the country he would have been spoken of as a man "in comfortable
circumstances." Wednesday morning we rode to a small Methodist chapel
bearing the name of my host. His house had for years been the home
where laborious and self-denying itinerant preachers, often hungry,
wet, and weary, had found most welcome and needed refreshment and
rest. A kind Providence has dotted the wilds of the country with many
such hospitable homes--I have often found them and enjoyed their
cheer--whose owners, more rich in generous, noble impulses than in
worldly goods, have thus laid up treasures in heaven, the exceeding
riches and abundance of which they will only fully comprehend and enjoy
when they hear the approving--"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of
the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." On arriving
at the chapel, which was a small, unplastered frame building, I was
introduced by my host to Brother M----, the "preacher in charge," and
received from him an old itinerant's cordial shake of the hand and
welcome to his circuit. After a few moments' conversation he thrust
his arm into mine, as though we had been acquainted for years, and
we strolled off among the black-jacks to await the arrival of the
congregation.
"What church do you belong to, Brother P----?" said he.
"I am a Presbyterian, sir," I responded.
"I am glad to hear it, glad to hear it," said he. "Brother Y----,
the last agent of the Bible Society, was a Methodist, and we've had
Methodist agents a good while. I am glad there is a change. I heard
there would be, at Conference. All our brethren will be glad to see and
welcome you."
As Brother M---- was the first real itinerant that I met on his
circuit deep in the Brush, I will present him a little more fully to
my readers. He wore on his head, drawn well down over his ears and
eyes, a cheap cloth cap, badly soiled and faded. I do not now recall
the color of his coat. I remember that it was of coarse material and
ragged, with a particularly large rent under one of the armholes. His
pantaloons were genuine butternut-colored jeans. I have no doubt that
the cloth was the gift of some good sister, woven in her own loom,
and all that she was able to give in making up his scanty salary. The
most of the audience, both men and women, were clothed in the same
home-made material. For myself, I was dressed in all respects as I
had been the last time I had preached in New York. I did not like the
contrast between myself and the congregation; and on my return to the
city I laid aside my entire black suit, and procured a second-hand
snuff-colored overcoat, costing eight dollars, jean pantaloons, and a
soft hat, in which I felt much more at ease on my next return to the
Brush. To anticipate a little, I will say that in my desire to carry
out the Pauline example in becoming all things to all men, I went a
little too far; for I wore my Brush suit to Conference, where I met
this same preacher, and scores of his brethren with whom I had become
acquainted, dressed in black, and presenting a contrast quite to my
disadvantage. I had, however, gone there on horseback, traveling and
preaching through the wildest brush country, with only such changes
of clothing as I could carry in my saddle-bags. If I was a little
mortified at my personal appearance when the presiding elder introduced
me to the venerable bishop, and he introduced me to the Conference,
and they all arose to their feet to do me honor, and welcome me as
the representative of the American Bible Society, I had at least this
satisfaction, that with the large audience present my dress would do
something to correct the popular impression, very widely prevalent in
the Brush, that "Presbyterian ministers preach for good clothes."
One by one the small congregation arrived at the chapel--men, women,
and children--on horseback. When they had all assembled, we went in,
and I preached, and they "lifted a collection" amounting to three
dollars and twenty-five cents. After dining with Brother M----, at
a house near by, I mounted my horse for a long ride, to reach my
appointment for the night. My kind friends gave me a great many
directions, and I started out. There was nothing worthy of the name
of a public road. There were wagon-tracks and paths running in all
directions among the black-jacks, and crossing each other at all
angles. Whenever, for a short distance, there was a fence on both sides
of a road, _that_ was called a "lane." One track would lead me to the
back side of a tobacco-patch, where it ended; another led me where some
rails had been "mauled" and recently hauled away. The roads leading to
plantations were more worn, and looked more like the "main traveled
road," than those that were intended for public highways. I inquired my
way at each plantation that I passed, and every other opportunity; and
these were far too rare for my wants. Once I saw, from an elevation, a
peach-tree in bloom in the distance. It was like the human footprint
in the sand to Robinson Crusoe on his lonely island. I said, "There
is a sign of humanity," and started for it. But when I reached it the
log-cabin near which it was planted was empty, and I started out again
into the labyrinths of paths. Often that afternoon, and oftener in the
years that followed, when I have been lost in the Brush, I exclaimed,
"Blessed be the man that devised our national system of 'sectional
surveys'!" I do not know what man or men devised it, but I do know that
the country owes him or them a debt of gratitude it can never pay.
Where section-lines are established, there roads are located, roads
running at right angles, and school-districts, townships, and larger
communities have definite boundaries; and every neighborhood and farm
may have the benefit of established and good roads. These barrens,
like vast regions of country over which I have traveled, never had
the benefit of such a survey. The original settlers had found places
where the land, timber, water, etc., suited them, and had measured
off, perhaps with a pole or grape-vine, hundreds or thousands of acres
in any shape their fancy directed--their surveys often overlapping
each other at various points. Hence interminable lawsuits in regard
to boundaries, and the greater calamity of having no established
lines for a uniform system of roads. A learned author has said, "You
may judge the civilization of a country by its roads." If this is a
true criterion, there is a vast extent of country over which I have
traveled, in the Southwest and South, that will take a very low rank
in the scale of civilization. I remember one man in the Brush who told
me he had raised that year three hogsheads of tobacco, but the roads
were so bad that the transportation of his crop, sixty miles to market,
had cost him one hogshead of tobacco--one third of the proceeds of his
summer's work! One of the most prominent causes of the development and
growth of our Western States is the manner in which they were surveyed,
and their system of roads; one of the greatest hindrances to the
prosperity of other and large sections of our country is that they have
had no such survey, and are not likely to have any such roads.
I reached the house of Mr. R----, to whom I was directed, soon after
sundown, and learned that my appointment had reached him, and he
was expecting me. He at once gave orders to his boys to get the
shellbark-hickory torches that they had provided to light us home,
and without dismounting he led my way, on foot, about a mile, to an
unpainted, unplastered, barnlike-looking building, known as "Blue
Knobs Church." A few tallow-candles shed their glimmering rays
upon the upturned faces of the not large audience that listened
to my description of the Bible House, its numerous presses, and
vast facilities for publishing the Bible; and, in response to my
appeal for funds for the noble cause I represented, they "lifted a
collection" amounting to ninety-four cents. In the light of the torches
thoughtfully provided for me, I climbed up the sides of the knob--the
higher elevations of land in this region are called "knobs"--to the
home of my host. Supper was now prepared for the family and myself; and
I learned that it was the custom of the people to defer supper until
this hour, whenever they had meetings at night.
Fairly seated in the house, I saw such a group of little children as I
had never seen before, belonging to one family. We had not talked long
before the father volunteered an explanation. He told me his wife had
died, leaving nine children, one but a few days old. Not many months
after, he had married a young widow with three children, as young as
his three youngest, and one had been born since their marriage. Of the
thirteen present, the majority were under five years old. Subsequently,
in my travels, I spent a night with a family where there was a large
number of young children, and I asked the mother the age of the eldest
and the youngest. The eldest would be six years old the next June; the
youngest was six weeks old. She had six healthy children, that had been
born in less than six years, and none of them were twins.
On Thursday I started early in the morning and rode through a country
that differed but little from that through which I had passed the
day before, to the place of my appointment. On going to the hall of
the secret society, where I was to preach, I learned that it was the
night of their regular weekly meeting, and they could not yield their
room to me. Such collisions are not unfrequent in the Brush, and the
people describe them by a very striking figure of speech, which gives
some idea of their sports and tastes. They say of them that "the
appointments locked horns." I did not care to test the strength of my
neck, and therefore, as was altogether proper in the circumstances,
did not preach. That night I slept in the loft of a log-cabin. It was
entirely unceiled, and the roof was so low that I had to stoop to make
my way to my bed; and when in it I could easily place my hands upon
the roof-boards and rafters. The openings between the logs afforded
abundant ventilation. In the morning, I found such conveniences as were
afforded for washing, not in my room, but out-of-doors, at the side of
the well. Afterward, I slept in hundreds of such cabin-lofts--slept
in them until the sight of smoky, dingy roof-boards and rafters was
wellnigh as familiar a sight on opening my eyes in the morning, as the
sky overhead when I went to the well to wash, sometimes in a basin
or dish, but often by having the water poured upon my hands from a
gourd. I remember one occasion when, after traveling for weeks in the
Brush, I arrived at a small county-seat village, and spent the night
in a new building that had recently been erected for a young ladies'
seminary. In the morning, as I opened my eyes, they were greeted with
the sight of new white-plastered walls above and around me. The sight
was so rare that it thrilled me with joy. The smooth, clean plaster
seemed absolutely beautiful. I have never since experienced more
delightful sensations in gazing upon the most magnificent paintings. I
can see now the new, cheap bedstead, the clean sheets, the blue-calico
window-curtains, the white walls, and recall the sensations of intense
pleasure that they inspired. It was as if I had slept for weeks in a
dungeon, and awoke in the most delightful home.
On Friday morning I started early again, and by a most difficult and
crooked route through the "barrens," made my way to the residence of
"Uncle Billy H----," to whose hospitality I had been commended. Here I
found a brick house on a turnpike-road, and "Uncle Billy" was a "good
liver." He went with me at night to a small church, located upon a
stream, near a grist-mill, and I preached, and "lifted a collection"
amounting to four dollars and five cents.
On Saturday morning, my appointments for the week being all fulfilled,
I took the turnpike and started for the county-seat. I was never so
grateful for a good road, and never so willing and glad to pay toll.
At various points along the "pike," as it was universally called, I saw
tracks leading off into the woods, and was told that they were known as
"shunpikes," and that some people in traveling would take these and go
through the woods around the toll-gates, in order to avoid paying toll.
I had not the slightest disposition to perpetrate that immorality and
meanness. I stuck to the pike as one would to an old friend and guide,
after having been bewildered and lost in the most perilous ways. It was
comfortable not to be asking and getting "directions" that were a good
deal more incomprehensible and past finding out than the blind roads
and paths I was trying to follow. I was most happy to be freed from the
disagreeable feelings of uncertainty and anxiety as to whether or not
I was in the right road or path, and was making progress in the right
direction, or I should be obliged to retrace my steps. As I rode on
thus, dark clouds rolled up the sky and it began to rain. I unstrapped
my umbrella from my saddle, and, as I spread it, my horse, that had
seemed as gentle as any horse could be, shot from under me with a
movement so sudden and swift, that I struck but once on his rump,
rolled off behind him, and he went tearing into the woods at the side
of the "pike." I never could understand how my feet were disentangled
from the stirrups, and how I fell upon the hard turnpike-road without
being hurt at all. But I know that that kind Protector was with me who
has preserved me through so many years of travel upon oceans, lakes,
rivers, and during unnumbered thousands of miles of travel by railroad,
stage, and on horseback, over the roughest and wildest portions of
the land, without ever suffering a more serious accident than this. I
followed my horse into the woods, but could not find him, and walked
about four miles to the village in the rain.
After dinner, my kind clerical friend and host rode with me several
miles to find my horse, and my saddle-bags that he had carried into the
woods with him, but our search was in vain. At night, after our return,
a black boy--a slave--who had found my horse in the woods, brought him
to me, and received his reward. The saddle-bags I never found. More
than all else I regretted the loss of my small Bible, that had been my
constant companion during all my school-days, and in all my travels by
sea and by land for many years before.
Sunday was a cold, rainy, cheerless day. I preached to a very small
congregation that assembled in the morning, and "lifted a collection"
amounting to nine dollars and five cents. In the afternoon and at night
it rained so hard that there were no public services.
Monday, I spent the forenoon with the officers of the county Bible
Society, instructing them in their duties and aiding them in writing
their reports. In the afternoon I attended a funeral that was less
like a funeral than any I had ever witnessed, and seemed more strange
to me than anything I had yet seen. The clergyman invited me to go
with him to the graveyard, where he had engaged to be present at the
burial. The funeral party was from the country. The coffin was conveyed
in a large farm-wagon drawn by six mules. The mud was very deep and
very red. The family and neighbors followed on horseback, a straggling
company, attempting to maintain no semblance of a procession or any
kind of order. The women were dressed as I have since seen thousands
of Brush-women dressed. They had long riding-skirts made of coarse
cotton-factory cloth, dyed the inevitable butternut-color. Their
bonnets were of the simplest possible construction, made of any kind
of calico, stiffened and bent over the top of the head in such form as
to protect the neck, and project a long distance beyond the face, and
usually called "sun-bonnets." The company all rode as near the grave as
they conveniently could, and with the exception of those who officiated
in lowering the coffin into the grave, they all sat upon their horses
while the clergyman performed his brief religious services. There
were no sable mourning-weeds. The contrast in colors and dress from
those usually seen at a funeral, as well as in all the forms generally
observed on such an occasion, impressed me very strangely. On another
occasion I attended a funeral where the company followed after the
corpse in the same straggling manner, though the most of them were on
foot, and on their way to the graveyard they climbed the fences and
went across-lots by a shorter route, leaving the hearse to go around
the road, and they were at the grave to receive and bury the corpse
when the hearse arrived. This was not from any want of respect, for the
person buried was a college graduate and lawyer. It was simply their
way of doing things.
On Tuesday, having completed all my arrangements for the exploration
and supply of the county with Bibles, I took stage and returned
to headquarters. As from time to time I received the reports of
the Bible-distributor, and learned of the amount sold, and of the
large number of families destitute who gladly received as a gift
this inestimable treasure, I felt that in all my toils and personal
privations in thus exploring the Brush, I had not labored in vain nor
spent my strength for naught. In the great day, when all the good
results of these labors shall be revealed, I know that there will be no
cause for regret, but much for joy.
I was now better prepared than ever before to understand just what
I needed and all that I needed to complete my outfit for the Brush.
My experience in horseback-riding had been particularly instructive
on this subject. After somewhat extended but fruitless search and
inquiry for a horse, such as I needed in that vicinity, I took steamer
for a great horse-market a hundred and fifty miles distant. Here I
found great droves of horses, in vast stables, attended by scores of
jockeys, all wide awake and eager to show me the very article that I
wanted. I went from stable to stable, looked at a good many, heard
the most satisfactory statements from their voluble owners in regard
to the qualities of those that were brought out and submitted to my
special inspection, mounted some of them and rode a short distance to
test their qualities, but did not purchase. Indeed, I became entirely
satisfied that I was not as verdant in regard to horse-flesh as from my
pale looks and clerical appearance they generally took me to be. Though
a clergyman, and the son of a clergyman, my father had penetrated the
wilderness of Western New York, purchased a farm, and erected his
log-cabin west of the Genesee River in 1807, when there was but a
single log-house where Rochester now stands. Hence, from my childhood
I had enjoyed the invaluable advantages of farm-life and labors. I had
ridden colts, driven and worked horses, and learned what is hardly
worth less in the future battle of life than all that is acquired in
college and professional schools.
While looking through these large stables I heard of a horse that
had been sent to a stable to be sold on account of some changes in
the family of the owner. I went and looked at her, and was greatly
pleased. I mounted her, rode a few miles, and returned perfectly
satisfied and delighted. In a short time I paid the price asked, and
was her happy owner. It was love at first sight, love that never
failed, but grew stronger and stronger through all the years that
we journeyed together. I took her on board the steamer with me, and
returned to headquarters. Next I procured saddle, bridle, halter,
spurs, leggins, and saddle-bags. For leggins I bought a yard and a
half of butternut jean, which was cut into two equal parts, and the
buttons and button-holes so arranged that I could wrap them tightly
around my legs from a short distance above my knees, and button them
on. They were secured from slipping down by a pair of strings which
were wound about the legs both above and below the knees, in such a
manner as not to interfere with their free movement in either riding or
walking. A good deal of skill, as well as a good deal of awkwardness,
may be displayed in putting on and tying on a pair of leggins; and
when a man displays unusual facility and skill in this matter in
his travels through the Brush, he is at once taken to be either an
itinerant preacher--or a horse-thief. In long horseback journeys these
leggins are invaluable as a protection against mud, rain, and cold. I
have traveled over the muddiest roads, many days and weeks, when, on
arriving at the house of some hospitable friend, I was so completely
bespattered and covered with mud that I looked very much like the
roads through which I had been traveling; but, on taking off my leggins
and overcoat, I laid aside the most of the mud with them, and so
presented a very respectable appearance.
But the saddle-bags were indispensable. In them I carried all the
changes in my wardrobe, and all such articles for my personal comfort
as one can have whose home is on horseback; together with such reports,
documents, and papers, as were indispensable to me in the prosecution
of my labors. With a large blanket-shawl rolled compactly together, and
strapped with my umbrella behind my saddle upon a pad attached to it
for this purpose, I was prepared to travel without any regard to rain
or weather.
Behold me, then, with my new and complete outfit, mounted and
starting for the Brush, in a broad-brimmed white hat, snuff-colored
overcoat, butternut-dyed pantaloons, leggins, heavy boots, and spurs.
My saddle-bags were thrown across the saddle, and my blanket-shawl
and umbrella strapped behind it. As I rode out of the city into the
country, I met a countryman on his way to town, who greeted me with a
pleasant "How d'y, sir?" and, as he scanned with a pleasant face my
outfit, he added, "Traveling, sir?" A countryman, and to the "manner
born," that was his quick recognition and approval of the perfection
and completeness of my outfit for the Brush. Two negroes, who were
felling a huge tree in the dense forest at the roadside, paused in
their labor, and manifested their approval with a broad African grin,
and "Mighty nice hoss, dat, massa!"
In my next chapter I shall make good these comments.