I had remained for some short time at home with my father, when he
informed me that he owed a man, whose name was Abraham Wilson, the sum
of thirty-six dollars, and that if I would set in and work out the note,
so as to lift it for him, he would discharge me from his service, and I
might go free. I agreed to do this, and went immediately to the man who
held my father's note, and contracted with him to work six months for
it. I set in, and worked with all my might, not losing a single day in
the six months. When my time was out, I got my father's note, and then
declined working with the man any longer, though he wanted to hire me
mighty bad. The reason was, it was a place where a heap of bad company
met to drink and gamble, and I wanted to get away from them, for I
know'd very well if I staid there, I should get a bad name, as nobody
could be respectable that would live there. I therefore returned to my
father, and gave him up his paper, which seemed to please him mightily,
for though he was poor, he was an honest man, and always tried mighty
hard to pay off his debts.
I next went to the house of an honest old Quaker, by the name of John
Kennedy, who had removed from North Carolina, and proposed to hire
myself to him, at two shillings a day. He agreed to take me a week on
trial; at the end of which he appeared pleased with my work, and
informed me that he held a note on my father for forty dollars, and that
he would give me that note if I would work for him six months. I was
certain enough that I should never get any part of the note; but then I
remembered it was my father that owed it, and I concluded it was my duty
as a child to help him along, and ease his lot as much as I could. I
told the Quaker I would take him up at his offer, and immediately went
to work. I never visited my father's house during the whole time of this
engagement, though he lived only fifteen miles off. But when it was
finished, and I had got the note, I borrowed one of my employer's
horses, and, on a Sunday evening, went to pay my parents a visit. Some
time after I got there, I pulled out the note and handed it to my
father, who supposed Mr. Kennedy had sent it for collection. The old man
looked mighty sorry, and said to me he had not the money to pay it, and
didn't know what he should do. I then told him I had paid it for him,
and it was then his own; that it was not presented for collection, but
as a present from me. At this, he shed a heap of tears; and as soon as
he got a little over it, he said he was sorry he couldn't give me any
thing, but he was not able, he was too poor.
The next day, I went back to my old friend, the Quaker, and set in to
work for him for some clothes; for I had now worked a year without
getting any money at all, and my clothes were nearly all worn out, and
what few I had left were mighty indifferent. I worked in this way for
about two months; and in that time a young woman from North Carolina,
who was the Quaker's niece, came on a visit to his house. And now I am
just getting on a part of my history that I know I never can forget. For
though I have heard people talk about hard loving, yet I reckon no poor
devil in this world was ever cursed with such hard love as mine has
always been, when it came on me. I soon found myself head over heels in
love with this girl, whose name the public could make no use of; and I
thought that if all the hills about there were pure chink, and all
belonged to me, I would give them if I could just talk to her as I
wanted to; but I was afraid to begin, for when I would think of saying
any thing to her, my heart would begin to flutter like a duck in a
puddle; and if I tried to outdo it and speak, it would get right smack
up in my throat, and choak me like a cold potatoe. It bore on my mind in
this way, till at last I concluded I must die if I didn't broach the
subject; and so I determined to begin and hang on a trying to speak,
till my heart would get out of my throat one way or t'other. And so one
day at it I went, and after several trials I could say a little. I told
her how well I loved her; that she was the darling object of my soul and
body; and I must have her, or else I should pine down to nothing, and
just die away with the consumption.
I found my talk was not disagreeable to her; but she was an honest girl,
and didn't want to deceive nobody. She told me she was engaged to her
cousin, a son of the old Quaker. This news was worse to me than war,
pestilence, or famine; but still I knowed I could not help myself. I saw
quick enough my cake was dough, and I tried to cool off as fast as
possible; but I had hardly safety pipes enough, as my love was so hot
as mighty nigh to burst my boilers. But I didn't press my claims any
more, seeing there was no chance to do any thing.
I began now to think, that all my misfortunes growed out of my want of
learning. I had never been to school but four days, as the reader has
already seen, and did not yet know a letter.
I thought I would try to go to school some; and as the Quaker had a
married son, who was living about a mile and a half from him, and
keeping a school, I proposed to him that I would go to school four days
in the week, and work for him the other two, to pay my board and
schooling. He agreed I might come on those terms; and so at it I went,
learning and working back and forwards, until I had been with him nigh
on to six months. In this time I learned to read a little in my primer,
to write my own name, and to cypher some in the three first rules in
figures. And this was all the schooling I ever had in my life, up to
this day. I should have continued longer, if it hadn't been that I
concluded I couldn't do any longer without a wife; and so I cut out to
hunt me one.
I found a family of very pretty little girls that I had known when very
young. They had lived in the same neighborhood with me, and I had
thought very well of them. I made an offer to one of them, whose name
is nobody's business, no more than the Quaker girl's was, and I found
she took it very well. I still continued paying my respects to her,
until I got to love her as bad as I had the Quaker's niece; and I would
have agreed to fight a whole regiment of wild cats if she would only
have said she would have me. Several months passed in this way, during
all of which time she continued very kind and friendly. At last, the son
of the old Quaker and my first girl had concluded to bring their matter
to a close, and my little queen and myself were called on to wait on
them. We went on the day, and performed our duty as attendants. This
made me worse than ever; and after it was over, I pressed my claim very
hard on her, but she would still give me a sort of an evasive answer.
However, I gave her mighty little peace, till she told me at last she
would have me. I thought this was glorification enough, even without
spectacles. I was then about eighteen years old. We fixed the time to be
married; and I thought if that day come, I should be the happiest man in
the created world, or in the moon, or any where else.
I had by this time got to be mighty fond of the rifle, and had bought a
capital one. I most generally carried her with me whereever I went, and
though I had got back to the old Quaker's to live, who was a very
particular man, I would sometimes slip out and attend the shooting
matches, where they shot for beef; I always tried, though, to keep it a
secret from him. He had at the same time a bound boy living with him,
who I had gotten into almost as great a notion of the girls as myself.
He was about my own age, and was deeply smitten with the sister to my
intended wife. I know'd it was in vain to try to get the leave of the
old man for my young associate to go with me on any of my courting
frolics; but I thought I could fix a plan to have him along, which would
not injure the Quaker, as we had no notion that he should ever know it.
We commonly slept up-stairs, and at the gable end of the house there was
a window. So one Sunday, when the old man and his family were all gone
to meeting, we went out and cut a long pole, and, taking it to the
house, we set it up on end in the corner, reaching up the chimney as
high as the window. After this we would go up-stairs to bed, and then
putting on our Sunday clothes, would go out at the window, and climb
down the pole, take a horse apiece, and ride about ten miles to where
his sweetheart lived, and the girl I claimed as my wife. I was always
mighty careful to be back before day, so as to escape being found out;
and in this way I continued my attentions very closely until a few days
before I was to be married, or at least thought I was, for I had no fear
that any thing was about to go wrong.
Just now I heard of a shooting-match in the neighbourhood, right between
where I lived and my girl's house; and I determined to kill two birds
with one stone,--to go to the shooting match first, and then to see her.
I therefore made the Quaker believe I was going to hunt for deer, as
they were pretty plenty about in those parts; but, instead of hunting
them, I went straight on to the shooting-match, where I joined in with a
partner, and we put in several shots for the beef. I was mighty lucky,
and when the match was over I had won the whole beef. This was on a
Saturday, and my success had put me in the finest humour in the world.
So I sold my part of the beef for five dollars in the real grit, for I
believe that was before bank-notes was invented; at least, I had never
heard of any. I now started on to ask for my wife; for, though the next
Thursday was our wedding day, I had never said a word to her parents
about it. I had always dreaded the undertaking so bad, that I had put
the evil hour off as long as possible; and, indeed, I calculated they
knowed me so well, they wouldn't raise any objection to having me for
their son-in-law. I had a great deal better opinion of myself, I found,
than other people had of me; but I moved on with a light heart, and my
five dollars jingling in my pocket, thinking all the time there was but
few greater men in the world than myself.
In this flow of good humour I went ahead, till I got within about two
miles of the place, when I concluded I would stop awhile at the house of
the girl's uncle; where I might enquire about the family, and so forth,
and so on. I was indeed just about ready to consider her uncle, my
uncle; and her affairs, my affairs. When I went in, tho', I found her
sister there. I asked how all was at home? In a minute I found from her
countenance something was wrong. She looked mortified, and didn't answer
as quick as I thought she ought, being it was her _brother-in-law_
talking to her. However, I asked her again. She then burst into tears,
and told me her sister was going to deceive me; and that she was to be
married to another man the next day. This was as sudden to me as a clap
of thunder of a bright sunshiny day. It was the cap-stone of all the
afflictions I had ever met with; and it seemed to me, that it was more
than any human creature could endure. It struck me perfectly speechless
for some time, and made me feel so weak, that I thought I should sink
down. I however recovered from my shock after a little, and rose and
started without any ceremony, or even bidding any body good-bye. The
young woman followed me out to the gate, and entreated me to go on to
her father's, and said she would go with me. She said the young man, who
was going to marry her sister, had got his license, and had asked for
her; but she assured me her father and mother both preferred me to him;
and that she had no doubt but that, if I would go on, I could break off
the match. But I found I could go no further. My heart was bruised, and
my spirits were broken down; so I bid her farewell, and turned my
lonesome and miserable steps back again homeward, concluding that I was
only born for hardships, misery, and disappointment. I now began to
think, that in making me, it was entirely forgotten to make my mate;
that I was born odd, and should always remain so, and that nobody would
have me.
But all these reflections did not satisfy my mind, for I had no peace
day nor night for several weeks. My appetite failed me, and I grew
daily worse and worse. They all thought I was sick; and so I was. And it
was the worst kind of sickness,--a sickness of the heart, and all the
tender parts, produced by disappointed love.