THE ITINERANT PIONEER PREACHER'S FAITHFUL HORSE.
I think a good horse is worthy of a niche in the temple of fame. I know
that many men have been immortalized in song and eloquence, and had
magnificent monuments erected to their memory, who have never done one
half as much for the good of the world as the faithful animal I rode so
many years, through the wilds of the Southwest, in the service of the
American Bible Society. But very few _men_ have done as much to promote
the circulation of the Word of God, "without note or comment," as she
did in those years of faithful labor.
If there be a paradise where there are purling streams, grateful shade,
and fat pastures for _horses_ that have been faithful and true, I am
sure that she has a high rank in "the noble army" of horses that in
sunshine and in storm, with unflagging devotion, have borne itinerant
pioneer preachers through mud and rain, and sleet and snow, as with
glowing, burning zeal they have prosecuted their heroic Christian
labors. All honor to the itinerant's faithful horse--my own among the
number! My very pen seems to catch new inspiration, and dance with
delight, as I attempt her eulogy.
In fact, she shrank from no toil in the prosecution of this good work.
She never kept me from fulfilling an appointment by refusing to ford
a river. She never hesitated to enter any canebrake it was necessary
for me to cross, and, though the canes were ever so thick and tangled,
and resisted her progress like so many ropes or cords around her
breast, yet she pressed carefully and firmly against them, until they
yielded to her power, and we emerged safely from the thicket. She never
flinched from climbing the steepest mountain-paths, where I had to hold
on to her mane with both hands to keep from sliding off behind her; and
then she would as kindly perform the more difficult feat of descending
such paths, stepping carefully and firmly so as not to stumble or
fall, while I kept my position in the saddle by holding on to the
crupper with one hand and guiding her with the other. In a word, she
never failed or disappointed me at any time, in any place, or in any
particular.
She was of medium size, light-sorrel color, white face, and in all
respects of admirable form and mold. She had been broken for the saddle
to either pace, trot, or gallop, and each gait was about as easy and
perfect as possible. In long journeys of weeks, and sometimes of
months, her movements were always free and fleet, and by alternating
from one gait to another she bore me about as easily and gently as one
could well wish to be carried on horseback. But her kind, affectionate
disposition was her crowning excellence. I never hitched her and went
into a house for a long or short stay, that she did not greet me as
soon as I opened the door on my return with her affectionate whinny.
She would recognize me among the congregation, as I came out of any
church where I had preached, or wherever she could see me in the
largest gatherings of people, and always with the same warm salutation.
Whenever I went to her stable in the morning, or wherever I approached
her after a brief separation, her demonstrations of affection were as
strong as they could well be without human powers.
On one occasion I rode up to the bank of a small river, very near its
mouth, and hailed the ferryman on the opposite side. While waiting for
him to cross, I led her down upon the planks which extended a short
distance into the river, that she might drink. Wading into the water,
she stepped beyond the planks and instantly sank to her breast in the
mud. It was the sediment that had been deposited there by numerous
freshets. As she went down the entire depth of her fore-legs in an
instant, she made one desperate effort to extricate herself, but in
vain. She seemed to comprehend her condition perfectly, turned to me
with a beseeching look and groan, and did not make another struggle.
I told her to lie still, and started on a run to get some teamsters,
whom I had met with their large six-horse teams as I rode up to the
river-bank, to help me in getting her out. They kindly came to my
aid, and by putting my saddle-girth under her breast, and tying ropes
to each end of it, they lifted her out of the mud by main strength.
When she was fairly on her feet, her demonstrations of gratitude were
most remarkable. She thanked me over and over again as plainly and
strongly as horse-language would possibly admit of, danced around me
with delight, persisted in rubbing her nose against me in the most
affectionate manner, and showed a joy that seemed wellnigh human. It
was warm summer weather, and on reaching the hotel on the opposite
shore I had her legs and her entire body from the tips of her ears to
the end of her tail thoroughly washed and rubbed dry. After dinner I
resumed my journey, and she was as well as ever.
Everywhere, during all the years that I traveled in the Brush, my
Jenny--for that was the name I gave her--made friends for herself and
me. If I rode up to a house upon a plantation, hailed it according to
the custom of the country, and was welcomed to its hospitalities by the
owner, he would call a negro servant:
"Ho! boy, carry this horse to the stable and take good care of her.
D'ye hear?"
When I dismounted, she understood that her long day's journey was
ended, and knew where she was going as well as the servant did. When
mounted, she would start with a fleet pace that was almost as gentle in
its movements as the rocking of a cradle; which would make the rider
roll the white of his eyes with the supremest African delight. Very
often I have seen them turn their faces, beaming with satisfaction,
and cast back furtive glances upon groups of young Africans that
were gazing after them with an admiration that was only equaled by
their envy of the rider's happy lot. Before reaching the stable a
friendship, if not affection, was established that insured the most
liberal allowance of "fodder" and corn, and the most thorough currying,
brushing, and care. I have no doubt that on many such occasions they
promised themselves a pleasant stolen night-ride, to visit friends
on some near or remote plantation, and that they did not forget or
fail to make good their promises. When I sometimes had occasion to
protract my stay for several days, it was amusing to listen to the
frequent applications from young Africa to ride her to the brook and
water her. They were intensely solicitous that she should not fail to
get water--or themselves rides! At all places, whether on cultivated
plantations or deep in the Brush, whether she was cared for by black
or white, she received the same kind attention. Hence she was always
in the best order and condition--always able and ready to take me the
longest journeys, through any amount of mud and mire, and over the
roughest roads, wherever it was necessary for me to go. I am sure that
the people were the more glad to see me on her account. My honored
instructor, the venerable President Nott, of Union College, in his
lectures on the "Beautiful," used to say:
"Young gentlemen, undoubtedly the two most beautiful objects in nature
are a beautiful horse and a beautiful lady. I hope you will not think
me ungallant in putting the horse before the lady." I gratified the
love of the beautiful in a fine horse, and so won their esteem and
love. But I was often as much surprised and gratified at her behavior
in her travels with me upon Western steamboats as upon land. On one
occasion I took her on board a large New Orleans steamer with a
deck-load of mules, horses, sheep, etc., and rode some two hundred
miles. I reached the place of my destination about midnight, and was
obliged to land at that hour. She was standing immediately back of the
wheel-house, and on the side of the boat toward the shore. But the boat
was so loaded that I was obliged to lead her a long distance around by
the stern, past the heels of braying mules and bellowing cattle, to
the point opposite the place from which I had started; then forward,
crossing the boat immediately in front of the roaring wood-fires, which
were on the same deck, and on to the bow, where I led her down the
plank on to a large wharf-boat. I then led her the entire length of
this boat, and down a long plank-way to the shore. And all this through
the indescribable din and confusion made by mates and deck-hands in
landing freight, passengers, and baggage, and the deafening screech of
the whistle in blowing off steam. When I took her by the bits and said,
"Come, Jenny," she placed her head against my shoulder and followed me
all this long, crooked, noisy route, with the confidence of a child. I
had led her on and off a great many noisy steamers, but that was the
most notable instance of all.
But my Jenny had some other qualities which I should never have
discovered had they not been made known to me by others. Elsewhere
in this volume I have spoken at length of my visit to a celebrated
watering-place, and of the numerous gamblers and other strange
characters that I met there. It was in the midst of a very wild region.
When I had arrived within a few hours' ride of the springs, I stopped
to dine at a house of private entertainment. A large four-horse stage,
loaded with passengers bound for the springs, soon drove up and stopped
at the same house, which was the regular place of dining for the
passengers. After dinner I rode on to the springs, keeping along the
most of the way in company with the stage. My Jenny attracted very
marked attention from the driver and passengers. The driver especially
was profuse in his expressions of admiration. As I rode up to the
hotel, the listless, lounging visitors, who were so deep in the
Brush that they had very little to attract or interest them, regarded
her gait and movements with general attention and delight. When I
dismounted, a black boy was soon in my saddle, and my Jenny moved off
to the stable with her usual fleetness and grace. I entered the hotel
and registered my name, without any prefix or suffix to indicate my
employment or profession. The weather was very hot, the roads very
dusty, and after the fashion of the country I was at once furnished
with water to wash. As I stood wiping myself, the stage-driver rushed
into the room and up to me in great excitement and said:
"Mr. Pierson, will you allow your horse to run? The money is up and
we'll have a race if you'll only allow her to run"--at the same time
holding up and shaking in my face a mass of bills that were drawn
through his fingers, after the fashion of gamblers in those parts. I
was startled to hear my name pronounced in a strange place, and by
a stranger, but in a moment bethought me that he had learned it by
looking on the hotel-register. I was more startled by the strangeness
of the proposition. As the servant stood with my saddle-bags on his
arm, waiting to show me to my room, I answered perhaps a little too
abruptly, "No, sir," and followed him to my room, to prepare for
supper. When the supper-bell rang, and I stepped out of my room upon
the piazza, a portly man of gentlemanly bearing, who had evidently
taken his position there to wait for me, approached me pleasantly and
said:
"I hope, sir, you will reconsider your decision and allow your mare
to run. As soon as you rode up I offered to bet two hundred and fifty
dollars that she would outrun anything here, and the money is up. Allow
me to say that I am an old Virginian, and a judge of horses, and if you
will let her run I am sure to win."
By this time I had entirely recovered my self-possession, and, bowing
politely, I looked directly into his eyes and said:
"Do you think, sir, it will do for a Presbyterian clergyman to commence
horse-racing _so soon_ after reaching the Springs?"
He was as much startled as I had been--in fact, so startled that he
could not say a word, and I left him without any reply, and went in to
supper. When I returned from the dining-room I found him at the door,
and he approached me in the most subdued and respectful manner and said:
"Allow me to speak to you again, sir. I wish to apologize, sir; I beg
your pardon, sir; I assure you, sir, that nothing would induce me
knowingly to insult a clergyman."
I responded, very pleasantly:
"I am certain, sir, that no insult was intended, and therefore there is
no pardon to be granted."
He thanked me very warmly for my kind construction of his motives,
and left me with a lighter step and brighter face. His companions were
all greatly pleased with my treatment of the matter; and, as I have
elsewhere said, there was a general turnout of all the gamblers--of
whom he was one of the most prominent--to hear me preach in the
ballroom the next Sabbath. But I need not say, to any one at all
familiar with life in the Southwest, that he had to "stand treat" all
around among his companions, for being thus, in the vernacular of the
country, "picked up" by the preacher.
In passing through another part of this county the following winter, I
rode up to a blacksmith-shop to get a shoe tightened. As soon as the
blacksmith came out he said:
"Wasn't you at the Springs last summer with this mare?"
I replied in the affirmative, and, on looking at him, recognized the
man that kept a little shop there, and had shod her in the summer.
"Well," said he, leaning upon her neck, patting her affectionately,
and looking into vacancy with a pleased expression, as if living over
some pleasant scene in the past, "they got her out, preacher, and run
her, any way." And then, as if to make the matter all right with me,
he looked up into my face and said, with the most satisfied smile and
emphatic nod: "And, preacher, she beat, she did. He won his money!"
During my vacation-trips to the East, for several summers, I left my
horse with some kind, warm friends upon a plantation, for the ladies
and children to ride as they might wish. At first it was difficult for
me to make satisfactory arrangements to leave her for several weeks.
I could not trust her at a livery-stable. There I felt sure she would
get a great many stolen rides. I found also that the temptation was
too great for the virtue of some professed friends with whom I left
her, for on my return I found she had been overridden, and looked worn
rather than rested from the vacation I had intended for her as well
as myself. But in my travels I found a lady from my native State, New
York, who had gone South as a teacher, and married a planter. There
was a slight disparity in their ages. I would not take oath as to the
exact difference, but I heard a good many times that, when married, she
was nineteen and he forty-nine. If that was so, the marriage furnished
confirmation of the popular talk and notions concerning "an old man's
darling." He was certainly as kind and indulgent as a husband could
well be. She was a Presbyterian and he a Baptist. He was kind and
genial, and full of vivacity and life, and loved to entertain me as
his "wife's preacher," and for her sake, as well as to gratify his own
warm social instincts. Here, at each return for years, I ever found
the warmest welcome and the kindest home. To her my visits were like
those of an old friend, for, when far away from the companions and
scenes of early life, the ties that unite those from the same State
become strong and endearing. But far stronger than this is the bond
that unites members of different churches to their own clergymen, and
especially when they but rarely enjoy their ministrations. Gifted,
intelligent, and full of energy, and also sympathizing deeply with
the object of my Christian toils and labors, she spared no pains to
make her house what it ever was to me, a delightful resting-place and
home. A large, fine chamber always awaited me, to which they gave my
name, and here I spent many delightful hours. I brought to them many
tales of my adventures in the Brush, for which my host had the keenest
appreciation, and I heard from him many accounts of preachers and
preaching he had known and heard that are hard to be surpassed, which I
intend to give my readers in another chapter. It was with these friends
that for years I left my horse during all my vacation-journeys. Here
she became a family pet. Here I was sure she would never be overridden,
and always receive the kindest care. Here she came to be regarded
with an attachment, if possible, greater than my own; for, when I
returned for her, the children would have a hearty cry as I rode her
away. When at length I closed my labors in the Southwest and left the
region, my kind Baptist friend was more than glad to procure her for
his Presbyterian wife, and I left her where I was sure she would have
the kindest treatment while serviceable, and enjoy a comfortable and
honored old age.