Under the Pine Trees.
Judge William LeMonde lived about three miles from the camp ground we
have described. He was the richest man in his township, his farm
consisting of one thousand acres stretching from the Cumberland River
back to some high hills about one mile distant. That part lying on the
river was like a garden of the Lord for richness of soil. In this land
Indian corn, tobacco, cabbage, and potatoes grew to perfection. Midway
between the river and the high hills was a narrow ridge which ran
parallel with the river. This natural backbone of land reached its
greatest height on Mr. LeMonde's farm. But the highest point of all had
been increased in size by artificial means. In prehistoric times a race
of people living in this region had added earth to this hill until they
had made an almost circular mound, which became a conspicuous object in
the valley. Mr. LeMonde's father, who bought the farm many years
before, called the hill "Mount Pisgah." He was a descendant of the
French Huguenots. When he came from Louisiana he built a log house on
this elevation. A few years before our narrative opens Mr. William
LeMonde had removed this log house and built a spacious mansion of
brick. It was the only brick building for miles around.
The mansion Judge LeMonde erected was an ornament to this beautiful
site. It was two stories high, crowned with a French mansard roof. It
faced the river and a country road which ran along the river bank. The
visitor stepped upon a broad piazza, and then entered through a wide
and ornamented doorway a large hall from which ascended a broad flight
of stairs. On the left was a spacious drawing-room, carpeted with an
imported Brussels and adorned with several oil paintings. It contained
a piano, an instrument seldom seen in those days. Back of this room was
the owner's study or private apartment. On the right was a room half
the size of the drawing-room, all finished in white, containing on the
river side a fine bay-window. This room was fitted up with much taste
as a family living-room. At the rear of this was a large dining-room,
and beyond this a kitchen in which the colored cook, Aunt Dinah, ruled
supreme. On the second floor were several large bedchambers furnished
in a neat and becoming manner. One hundred yards west of the house, on
the ridge, was a cluster of negro cabins, and beyond these an immense
barn, the largest in the county.
Viola LeMonde was an only daughter of Judge LeMonde. She had one
brother, George, two years younger than herself. Her father and mother
almost idolized her, and gave her advantages far beyond those living
around her. A fine female boarding school then existed at Cincinnati,
Ohio, to which she was sent, and there she remained three years,
gaining that knowledge deemed best for young ladies in those days: the
common branches of education and the higher accomplishments of music
and drawing. At the time of which we write she was in her nineteenth
year, and was known far and near for her beauty of mind and person. She
was a perfect blonde. A bright light sparkled in her blue eyes; her
golden hair was simply arranged over temples and brows beautifully
formed. The color of her face was like a delicate peach, white with a
blending of red. Her nose was of Grecian type, mouth firmly chiseled
and of medium size, while the cherry red lips when parted showed two
rows of pearl-like teeth. Her chin was pear-shaped, and revealed
decision of character. Her whole appearance gave one the impression of
intelligence, purity, and benevolence. She was of medium height, and
her figure would have served as a model for the skill of a Phidias. Her
greatest accomplishment was music. Her voice was a high soprano, and
its naturally pure tone was improved by cultivation under the best
teachers.
Jasper Very's preaching appointments included the home of Judge
LeMonde, and he was given a hearty welcome from the first to his house.
Naturally he had seen the daughter Viola and had conversed with her
several times at the mansion and at church. He soon found that she was
superior to all the young ladies in the neighborhood both in strength
of mind and education. To this she added a bright and deep religious
experience. We must confess that the ranger's frequent visits to "Mt.
Pisgah" were not wholly on church business.
On a bright afternoon appeared a select company of preachers, including
Jasper Very and John Larkin, sitting under the lovely pine trees
fronting Judge LeMonde's mansion.
The judge had invited them to his house to rest a day or two after the
labors of the camp meeting.
The host and his beautiful daughter had joined the group of ministers.
They were a happy and merry lot as they looked over the tall, green
fields of corn, and beyond to the glorious trees lining the river bank,
and the sparkling stream seen between the trunks of the trees.
John Larkin was in his best mood, and the different subjects of
conversation reminded him of many stories. They were talking of a
sallow-cheeked preacher who was leaving his church located on Salt
River.
"That makes me think of the illiterate preacher I heard of, who lived
in the northern part of the State," said Larkin. "He was about to give
up his church, and so delivered a farewell address thus: 'My dear
bretherin-ah and sisterin-ah, I am about to leave you-ah, and I feel
solemncholy-ah, I can tell you-ah. This mornin' as I was ridin' to this
appintment-ah I looked up to the leaves of the trees-ah, and they
seemed to be sayin', 'Good-by, Brother Crawford-ah.' And then I see the
little birds singin' in the woods, and I fancied they said, 'Good-by,
good-by, Brother Crawford-ah.' Then I gazed at the purty squirrels
runnin' along the ground and climbin' up the trees, and they 'peared to
be barkin', 'Good-bye, O good-bye, Brother Crawford-ah!' After awhile I
come to a lot of pigs awallerin' in mud by the roadside. When my
hoss-ah got just opposite, they got up and gave some loud grunts--whoo!
whoo! whoo!--and that scart my hoss-ah, and he threw me in the dirt and
ran away-ah. I ris my eyes to look at my hoss-ah, and there he was
a-gallopin' down the road with his mane and tail a-flyin', and he
looked back at me and seemed to be sayin', 'Good-by, Brother
Crawford-ah; good-by, Brother Crawford-ah.'"
"It is a great pity," remarked Judge LeMonde, "that religion sometimes
must run through such rough channels to water the soil of morality and
piety when it deserves the best training of mind and voice."
"God can use very ignorant Hardshell preachers in building up his
kingdom if their own hearts are right before him," said Jasper Very;
"but if they are imposters, they are a disgrace and injury to the
sacred calling.
"I met a fellow once across the Ohio River whose name was Sargent. He
assumed the name of Halycon Church, and proclaimed himself the
millennial messenger. He professed to see visions, fall into trances,
and to converse with angels. We had a camp meeting near Marietta, and
this fellow came to it. He wanted to preach, and upon being refused
pretended to swoon away. One night he lit a cigar and got some powder,
and walked away about one hundred yards where stood a large stump. He
put the powder on the stump and touched it with his cigar. The flash
was seen by many in the camp, and they came up to find Sargent lying on
the ground. After a long time he came to, and told the people he had a
message from God for them. Seeing so many there, I lit a lantern and
went down to investigate. Stepping up to the stump, I smelled the
sulphur and saw the mark of the burnt powder, and near the stump lay
the cigar. As he was talking to the people, I stepped up to him and
asked him if an angel had appeared to him in a flash of light. He said,
'Yes.' 'Sargent,' said I, 'did not that angel smell of brimstone?'
'Why,' said he 'do you ask such a foolish question?' 'Because,' said I,
'if an angel has spoken to you, he was from the lake which burneth with
fire and brimstone;' and, raising my voice, I said, 'I smell sulphur
now.' I walked to the stump and showed the people his wicked trick.
They were very indignant and called him a vile imposter, and soon he
left, and we were no more troubled with him and his brimstone angels."
"What a shame that men will take the livery of heaven in which to serve
the evil one," said Viola LeMonde. "Hypocrisy is like a counterfeit
coin: it is not only worthless in itself, but it also makes men suspect
the genuine money."
"Poor Richard says, 'Honesty is the best policy,' and that holds good
in preaching as in other things," remarked Larkin.
Jasper Very added: "Men who are dishonest cheat themselves. They narrow
their souls. They grasp after a substance and find a shadow. A sure
Nemesis follows the present gain. The great poet says: 'Who steals my
purse steals trash.'"
"Sam Wiles is a case in point," said Judge LeMonde. "He surely is
cheating himself. But what gave him the disposition he possesses?
Heredity and environment; and not one man in a thousand will rise out
of these. The fellow has some good in him; but it is strangled by his
bent and surroundings, like good seed choked by thorns. What say you,
Mr. Larkin?"
"There is only one hope for him, that is religion, which he seems to
despise and reject. His superior gifts, making him a leader of the
moonshine gang, constitute him a greater menace to law-abiding people.
The Bengal tiger kills more prey than the common wild-cat which
sometimes roams these surrounding woods. I am told that Wiles is the
ring leader in many reckless acts, and will stop at nothing to gain his
ends. Zibe Turner, called the monster dwarf, is his right-hand man, who
will pick his chestnuts from the fire, though he burn his impish
fingers in so doing."
"You remember, papa," said Viola, "when we and a few friends had that
picnic two weeks ago on 'Silver Knob' we passed by the cabin where Sam
Wiles lives? I felt sad to see his poor mother in her faded and torn
calico dress in the little front yard. She was stirring some food in an
iron kettle which was over a fire of logs. Her eyes had such a dull,
discouraged look in them. The children were dirty and half dressed, and
how the dogs barked as we came near! The lot of the 'poor whites' in
Kentucky is indeed unfortunate. Even the slaves look down upon them.
"When I saw the Wiles family and other families like them in their low
condition I said in my heart: 'Cannot something be done for the comfort
and uplift of these people?' Gentlemen, I put the question to you this
afternoon."
After a silence of some duration Jasper Very spoke:
"I am sure something ought to be done and can be done to brighten the
lives of these poor folks. They live in the hills remote from church
and Sunday School, which they never attend, and exist as heathen in a
Christian country. Their forefathers in England were among the best
yeomen of the land, and I believe many of these have the making of
good, honest, upright citizens."
"I think it is possible to organize a community school--a combination
of Sunday School and day school--for these dwellers in the hills,"
added John Larkin. "As I was riding down 'Sinex Knob' the other day I
passed a settler's cabin, larger and better built than most dwellings
in that section. The owner's name is Mart Spink. He has a wife and
several bright-looking children. Perhaps he would grant the use of his
living-room for school purposes. The Wiles family and a number of other
families live near enough to attend."
"My thought coincides with the suggestion of Mr. Larkin," said Viola
LeMonde. "We ought to have such a school. In it we should teach the
truths of religion and also the common branches of learning. Moreover,
we should help the whole community--the farmers to better cultivate
their lands and their minds; the farmers' wives to improve their
housekeeping, to get out of the ruts, and to take a wider interest in
developing their own intellects and those of their children; the sons
to have noble ambitions in life and to prepare to achieve them; the
daughters, besides the moral and intellectual training they receive, to
learn sewing, knitting, cooking, and other forms of domestic science.
Yes, and I would have a primitive dispensary, that the neighbors might
have at least first aid in case of sickness or accident. Tomorrow I
will have my servant Mose Williams to drive me in the phaeton to David
Hester's house. There I will talk with his daughter Henrietta, and I am
sure I can induce her to join me in the project. Together we will
explore the ground and make a beginning.
"I shall ask you gentlemen to aid us in every way in your power by
sympathy, advice, prayer, and work."
"Most gladly will I do so on one condition," Very responded with a
laugh, "that is, that we now adjourn to the parlor, and you will favor
us with music both instrumental and vocal."
"Would you have me to be so selfish as to be the whole show?" rejoined
Viola. "I will do nothing of the kind, sir; but I will play and sing if
the company will unite with me in singing the hymns."
This demand was heartily accepted, and the group at once left the shade
of the pine trees for the parlor.
Christianity is said to be the only religion that can be sung. It began
with the angels' song, and its music will continue on earth till it is
transferred to the song of redemption in heaven.
The hymns of Christendom are among its most cherished and valuable
possessions. They sound the depths of the human heart. They express the
varied emotions of the soul.
It is no wonder that Jasper Very requested Viola LeMonde to play and
sing.
We behold this queen of song seated at the piano, while around her
stood her father and her mother (the mother having just come in) and
the preachers.
First Viola favored them with several instrumental selections from the
great masters. It was interesting to watch her hands. They were perfect
in size, shape and color. The slender fingers were tipped with nails
curved like almonds. They struck the keys with a precision, force and
grace, leaving nothing to be desired. The quick interplay of mind and
muscle interpreted the music to her hearers in a way almost to produce
tears.
After a rest during which some bright, witty remarks, like sparks,
passed from one to another, they prepared to sing some of the great
hymns of the church. They were well equipped for their task. Viola's
voice was pure, sweet, soulful, and high. She might have been a sister
of Jenny Lind. Her mother sang also in a rich and expressive manner.
Jasper Very possessed a fine deep bass voice. John Larkin sang an
acceptable tenor. All the rest were able to use their voices in song.
As by common understanding they began with songs of adoration and
praise. Each one entered into the spirit of that inspiring hymn of
Charles Wesley:
"O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of his grace."
The persons here were advanced agents in bringing civilization to
Kentucky. They had the heroic spirit. These preachers had endured
hardness as good soldiers of Jesus Christ. They had climbed mountains,
crossed valleys, forded streams, slept in the open, encountered wild
beasts and base and desperate men. Songs to cheer, encourage, and
strengthen their faith and zeal were needed and provided. Naturally
they desired to sing on this occasion. So the company sang with zest
Luther's great battle hymn:
"A mighty fortress is our God,
A bulwark never failing:
Our helper he, amid the flood
Of mortal ills prevailing."
Then was sung that hymn of triumphant trust, beginning:
"Though troubles assail, and dangers affright,
Though friends should all fail, and foes all unite,
Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide,
The promise assures us, The Lord will provide."
The pioneers of that day had an exultant experience of the religion
they professed and taught. Viola next turned to hymns expressing this
state. She and those gathered around her sang them with joyous, even
ecstatic, acclamation:
"O happy day, that fixed my choice
On thee, my Savior and my God!
Well may this glowing heart rejoice,
And tell its rapture all abroad."
And:
"Love divine, all love excelling,
Joy of heaven, to earth come down;
Fix in us thy humble dwelling,
All thy faithful mercies crown."
After they had sung a number of other hymns, Jasper Very said to Viola
LeMonde: "I have heard, Miss LeMonde, that you have composed the music
to a new paraphrase of the Ninety-First Psalm. I am sure we should all
be delighted to hear you sing your music to the words. Will you kindly
favor us by so doing?"
Viola LeMonde replied: "I am not an adept at composing music, but the
words of this poem impressed me, and I joined them to an air which came
to me almost spontaneously. I shall take pleasure in singing this
melody, if you will be charitable in criticism." Thus speaking she sang
the following words simply but with much feeling:
The Saint's Refuge.
Dwelling in God's secret place,
Safe doth his beloved lie,
Shaded by his sovereign grace
From the tempests fierce and high.
Love Divine will hear his prayer,
Be his refuge and defense;
Save him from the fowler's snare,
And the noisome pestilence.
Sheltered 'neath the Father's wings,
Covered with his pinions wide,
Truth the ransomed homeward brings,
Shielding him on every side.
Fear recedes from terror's night,
Harmless flies the dart by day;
In the darkness or the light
Wasting death shall flee away.
Sees he, falling in their pride,
Twice five thousand wicked men;
But destruction's wrathful tide
Shall not touch his garments then.
Angels, ministrant, shall fly
From their dazzling upper zones,
Charged by heaven's Majesty
Him to keep from crushing stones.
On the lion, bold and dread,
Seeking ever to devour,
And the hissing serpent's head,
He shall tread with victor's pow'r.
God will wipe away his tears;
Grant him honor and release;
Crown his life with length of years;
Save, and keep in perfect peace.