Fun and Mischief. His Little Cousin and the "Gnats." The Aurora
Borealis. A Bumble-bee Scrape. Another Bee Scrape. Justification by
Faith alone. Readiness to Fight. Love of Justice. No Surrender.
When a boy, I was as full of fun and mischief as an egg is of meat, and
I have never got rid of it. With a younger brother and a neighbor boy
of my own age, equally mischievous with myself, there was hardly a
thing in the way of fun and frolic that we were not continually into.
Hunting rabbits was our chief sport, and, when we got larger, coons,
'possums and the like at night. There was not a tree of any
peculiarity, or a hole in the ground, for miles around, that we did not
know all about. We knew, also, every fruit tree, from the apple to the
black-haw or persimmon in the same territory, and the time they were
ready for company; and we never failed to pay our respects to them all
in due time. I would not mention many of the bad things of my early
life; but that is the way the Bible does with its heroes, and the Bible
is always a safe guide to follow.
About all the money we made in our boyhood days was from the sale of
nuts and the flesh and skins of the animals we caught during the fall
and winter. This was my way of getting books, maps, etc., to help me in
my studies. I was the recognized leader in all the mischief we did, and
many prophecies were made that I should one day be hanged, and in this
anticipation my father fully shared. My younger brother and I were
constantly playing practical jokes on each other, and often upon
others. We never became offended, though the pranks were sometimes
exceedingly rough; but we were always watching an opportunity to "get
even." I will relate a few as samples, while others are too bad to
tell.
On one occasion some cousins and their children visited us from Shelby
county. They were considered quite wealthy for that time. Their little
boy was dressed in very fine clothes, at least, in our estimation, and
we concluded he was putting on airs. We thought we would do him a
valuable service by taking him down a little, so we asked him if he had
ever seen a singular kind of gnat, which we described. He had not. We
proposed to show him a fine lot--a big nest of them. We affirmed that
they were nice, harmless things to play with. So we went forth to see
the gnats. We got him to the nest and stirred them up, and in a few
minutes the innocent, unsuspecting boy was covered with yellow jackets.
Of course, he ran to the house screaming, and they had a time in
getting them off of him. He was badly stung, but we made it appear that
we had gone down there to fight them, which was a favorite pastime with
us, and that he got too near the nest. Thus we escaped a well-merited
whipping.
About the same time in life my younger brother and I caught a rabbit
and dressed it for breakfast. It was Saturday afternoon, and father and
mother had gone to her father's, some six miles away, to stay till the
next evening. That night the aurora borealis was unusually bright, and
as the excitement of Millerism had not died away, there was much talk
of the world's coming to an end. My oldest sister, Mary, was getting
supper ready and was greatly alarmed. She would go out and watch the
sky, and then go back to see about the supper. Finally I said, "Mary,
do you really think the world will come to an end before morning?" "I
do believe it will," said she. "Then," said I, "_we must have the
rabbit for supper_." I had no notion of losing my rabbit by such a
trifling circumstance as that.
Later in life, when old enough to work in the harvest field, we had a
neighbor who was very "close," and we never had any fancy for him. He
was always boasting of his ability to work with bees. One year he had a
large harvest, and many hands employed, and we were helping him. One
day we told him we had found a fine bee tree which could be cut down in
a few minutes, and that if he would go and take the honey he might have
it all except what we could eat. He was delighted with the proposal, so
after supper a number of us started for the bee tree, a mile and a half
from his house, in a dense forest. He had several buckets prepared to
secure a large amount of honey. When we began to chop, the bees began
to roar, and our friend was frantic with delight. Soon the tree fell,
and he "waded in" with his axe and buckets to get the luscious spoil.
As he went in we went out, and soon he discovered himself in a big
bumble-bees' nest alone with all his buckets, etc., a mile and a half
from home! We saw no more of him that night, and did not care to meet
him next day.
This reminds me of another bee scrape, in which my father figured
largely. He prided himself on being able to handle bees as so many
flies. On a cool, drizzly day we cut a bee tree on the farm. I was
wearing a brown jeans sack coat. This I laid aside while chopping. When
the tree fell the bees swarmed forth in great numbers, and my father
stalked in with his axe, chipping and cutting the limbs, preparatory to
chopping for the honey, and was as indifferent as if surrounded only by
gnats. We stood at a safe distance. Soon he came out with a trifle less
indifference than he went in with, picking the bees out of his hair
with both hands. They had literally settled on his head and were
stinging him furiously. He came running to us to fight them off. I
grabbed up my coat, and with both hands struck him over the head. A
large jack knife, very heavy, was in one of the pockets, and this
struck him on the opposite side of the head and came near felling him
to the ground. We fought the bees off the best we could, but he was
terribly stung. This was the last of his working with bees as with
flies.
My father was a firm believer in the doctrine of justification by faith
alone. All those passages of Scripture that connect justification or
salvation with faith, without mentioning anything else as a condition,
he had at his tongue's end. His argument was, whatever may be mentioned
elsewhere, here salvation is promised on the condition of faith, and
nothing else is in the text. With all this I had become perfectly
familiar, and always had a suspicion that there was a fallacy in it
some where, though I could not exactly expose it. We were clearing a
piece of new ground in April, about the time the spring fever sets in,
and my younger brother and I always "had it bad." It was a Monday
morning, and father was going to La Grange to attend court. At
breakfast he gave us very particular instructions about our work--what
to do and how to do it--and a feature emphasized was that we were to
keep at it. It was getting quite dry, and when he had started to town
he hallooed back and said, "Boys, I want you to watch the fire to-day
and not let it get out." "All right," we responded. His two directions,
perhaps not an hour apart, reminded me of his theology, and I resolved
at once to test its validity when weighed in his own scales. So we went
out to the clearing, lay down under the shade of a tree, and "watched
the fire" all day! Having returned, he asked us how we had got along.
We replied, "Finely," that we had done what he told us; but when he
came to "view the landscape o'er," we had to give an account for the
deeds done in the body, or, rather, not done. I told him that his
specific instruction was to watch the fire. "But," said he, "I told you
before that, that you were to do the work." "Yes," I replied, "but the
last time you said anything about it you did not allude to the work;
but only to watch the fire. There was no work in the text." However, he
was by no means disposed to look upon that as favorably as upon
justification by faith only, which rests on the same principle. Still
it opened his eyes to a fallacy in his argument that he had not seen
before.
I generally lived in peace and good will with all the boys in the
neighborhood, but a few times in my life feeling imposed on, or that
some one else was, I got into fights, and always with those older and
stronger than myself. I had learned something of the secret of success
in that line from what I had heard said of my father. This often gave
me a victory quite unlooked for. I would fight the best friend I had in
the world if he imposed on one unable to cope with him. I had a
companion much stronger than I, and inclined to be overbearing. On one
occasion, at a corn husking, he tried to force a fight on a boy smaller
than himself. When I saw he was quite determined about it, while the
other boy was trying to avoid it, I said, "Jim, you and I are good
friends. I have nothing against you in the world. I like you, but you
can't fight that boy. If you fight any body you will have to fight me.
I don't want any quarrel with you, nor do I want to hurt you, but if
nothing but a fight will do you, that's just the way it has to be
done." When he saw I was in earnest, the matter was dropped, and our
friendship continued.
I was severely tried on one occasion. My older brother had a falling
out with a neighbor, and we three were alone in the woods. I had a
dislike for the man, as much as my brother had. He was boastful,
bigoted and disagreeable. But in this particular case I saw clearly
that my brother was in the wrong, I felt compelled, therefore, to take
sides with the other man. At this my brother was deeply offended, and
it took him a long time to get over it. He did not see his wrong, and
thought my conduct very strange and unnatural, especially as I did not
like the man. I deplored this, but could not yield the principle of
holding justice superior to persons.
One of my difficulties was so peculiar that I will recount it. It was
in the winter, and the ground was frozen deep. The day was bright, and
on the south hillsides the ground had thawed to the depth of two or
three inches. Several boys were together, and one of them several years
older than I. He was a son of one of our tenants, and entirely too
proud for one in his condition. He was imposing on my younger brother,
and I gave him to understand he must not do that. With this he turned
upon me. We were upon a south hillside, under a large beech tree, and
the ground was thawed on top and frozen beneath. About the first pass I
slipped on a root concealed in the mud, and fell on my back, with my
shoulders wedged between two projecting roots and my head against the
tree. I was utterly powerless. After pommeling me a while, he proposed
to let me up if I would say "enough." This I declined to do. Then he
would renew the operation, and then the proposition. The sun was three
hours high, no one interfered, and I insisted that they should not.
Sometimes he would lie upon me and talk for half an hour or more; he
would argue the case, remind me of my helplessness, and that it would
be death to lie there on the frozen ground till night. Then when his
advice all failed, he would renew hostilities. Thus it continued till
sundown. As the sun got low he changed his proposal. He would now let
me up if I would promise to make friends, and not fight him. This I
also declined. Finally, when he saw that nothing would avail, he gave
me a few parting salutes, and, springing to his feet, ran away. Before
I could get up he had such a start that I could not overtake him. For
some time I watched for a chance to pay him back, but he kept out of my
sight; and soon after his folks moved away, and thus the matter ended.
From my infancy it has been my disposition to stick to my convictions
till I saw I was in the wrong. I can not say that I am obstinate,
though it may have that appearance to others. I never could yield a
point for policy's sake, though my adherence to my convictions has cost
me a good deal. This led me early in life to be careful in coming to a
conclusion, and I have always admired Davy Crockett's motto, "Be sure
you're right, and then go ahead." I commend this homemade philosophy to
all who may read this chapter.