NEW SCENES AND A NEW HOME.
A POOR MAN IN A STRANGE LAND.--BEGIN TO ACQUIRE
PROPERTY.--RESUME PREACHING.--BOYS GO TO SCHOOL.--WHAT GAVE
ME A DESIRE TO LEARN TO READ.--A DAY OF PRAYER IN THE WOODS.
There was not much time to be lost, though in frolic even, at this
extraordinary moment. I was a stranger in a strange land, and had to
look about me, at once, for refuge and resource. I found a lodging for
the night; and the next morning set about exploring the interior for
the means of support. I knew nothing about the country or the people;
but kept my eyes and ears open, and made such inquiries as opportunity
afforded. I heard, in the course of the day, of a Mr. Hibbard, who
lived some six or seven miles off, and who was a rich man, as riches
were counted there, with a large farm, and several small tenements
on it, which he was in the habit of letting to his laborers. To him
I went, immediately, though the character given him by his neighbors
was not, by any means, unexceptionably good. But I thought he was not,
probably, any worse than those I had been accustomed to serve, and
that I could get along with him, if honest and faithful work would
satisfy him. In the afternoon I found him, and soon struck a bargain
with him for employment. I asked him if there was any house where he
would let me live. He said "yes," and led the way to an old two-story
sort of shanty, into the lower story of which the pigs had broken, and
had apparently made it their resting-place for some time. Still, it
was a house, and I forthwith expelled the pigs, and set about cleaning
it for the occupancy of a better sort of tenants. With the aid of hoe
and shovel, hot water and a mop, I got the floor into a tolerable
condition by midnight, and only then did I rest from my labor. The
next day I brought the rest of the Hensons to _my house_, and though
there was nothing there but bare walls and floors, we were all in a
state of great delight, and my wife laughed and acknowledged that
it was worth while, and that it was better than a log cabin with an
earth-floor. I begged some straw of Mr. Hibbard, and confining it by
logs in the corners of the room, I made beds of it three feet thick,
upon which we reposed luxuriously after our long fatigues.
Another trial awaited me which I had not anticipated. In consequence
of the great exposures we had been through, my wife and all the
children fell sick; and it was not without extreme peril that they
escaped with their lives.
My employer soon found that my labor was of more value to him than
that of those he was accustomed to hire; and as I consequently gained
his favor, and his wife took quite a fancy to mine, we soon procured
some of the comforts of life, while the necessaries of food and fuel
were abundant. I remained with Mr. Hibbard three years, sometimes
working on shares, and sometimes for wages; and I managed in that
time to procure some pigs, a cow, and a horse. Thus my condition
gradually improved, and I felt that my toils and sacrifices for
freedom had not been in vain. Nor were my labors for the improvement
of myself and others, in more important things than food and clothing,
without effect. It so happened that one of my Maryland friends arrived
in this neighborhood, and hearing of my being here, inquired if I
ever preached now, and spread the reputation I had acquired elsewhere
for my gifts in the pulpit. I had said nothing myself, and had not
intended to say anything of my having ever officiated in that way. I
went to meeting with others, when I had an opportunity, and enjoyed
the quiet of the Sabbath when there was no assembly. I would not
refuse to labor in this field, however, when desired to do so; and
I hope it is no violation of modesty to state the fact, that I was
frequently called upon, not by blacks alone, but by all classes in
my vicinity--the comparatively educated, as well as the lamentably
ignorant--to speak to them on their duty, responsibility, and
immortality, on their obligations to their Maker, their Saviour, and
themselves.
It may, nay, I am aware it must, seem strange to many, that a man
so ignorant as myself, unable to read, and having heard so little
as I had of religion, natural or revealed, should be able to preach
acceptably to persons who had enjoyed greater advantages than myself.
I can explain it only by reference to our Saviour's comparison of the
kingdom of heaven to a plant which may spring from a seed no bigger
than a mustard-seed, and may yet reach such a size, that the birds of
the air may take shelter therein. Religion is not so much knowledge
as wisdom; and observation upon what passes without, and reflection
upon what passes within a man's heart, will give him a larger growth
in grace than is imagined by the devoted adherents of creeds, or the
confident followers of Christ, who call him "Lord, Lord," but do not
the things which he says.
Mr. Hibbard was good enough to give my eldest boy, Tom, two quarters'
schooling, to which the schoolmaster added more, of his own kindness,
so that my boy learned to read fluently and well. It was a great
advantage, not only to him, but to me; for I used to get him to read
much to me in the Bible, especially on Sunday mornings, when I was
going to preach; and I could easily commit to memory a few verses, or
a chapter, from hearing him read it over.
One beautiful summer Sabbath I rose early, and called him to come
and read to me. "Where shall I read, father?" "Anywhere, my son,"
I answered, for I knew not how to direct him. He opened upon Psalm
ciii. "Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his
holy name;" and as he read this beautiful outpouring of gratitude,
which I now first heard, my heart melted within me. I recalled, with
all the rapidity of which thought is capable, the whole current of
my life; and, as I remembered the dangers and afflictions from which
the Lord had delivered me, and compared my present condition with
what it had been, not only my heart but my eyes overflowed, and I
could neither check nor conceal the emotion which overpowered me. The
words, "Bless the Lord, O my soul," with which the Psalm begins and
ends, were all I needed, or could use, to express the fullness of my
thankful heart. When he had finished, Tom turned to me and asked,
"Father, who was David?" He had observed my excitement, and added, "He
writes pretty, don't he?" and then repeated his question. It was a
question I was utterly unable to answer. I had never heard of David,
but could not bear to acknowledge my ignorance to my own child. So I
answered evasively, "He was a man of God, my son." "I suppose so,"
said he, "but I want to know something more about him. Where did he
live? What did he do?" As he went on questioning me, I saw it was in
vain to attempt to escape, and so I told him frankly I did not know.
"Why, father," said he, "can't you read?" This was a worse question
than the other, and, if I had any pride in me at the moment, it took
it all out of me pretty quick. It was a direct question, and must
have a direct answer; so I told him at once I could not. "Why not?"
said he. "Because I never had an opportunity to learn, nor anybody to
teach me." "Well, you can learn now, father." "No, my son, I am too
old, and have not time enough. I must work all day, or you would not
have enough to eat." "Then you might do it at night." "But still there
is nobody to teach me. I can't afford to pay anybody for it, and, of
course, no one can do it for nothing." "Why, father, _I'll teach you_.
I can do it, I know. And then you'll know so much more that you can
talk better, and preach better." The little fellow was so earnest,
there was no resisting him; but it is hard to describe the conflicting
feelings within me at such a proposition from such a quarter. I was
delighted with the conviction that my children would have advantages
I had never enjoyed; but it was no slight mortification to think of
being instructed by a child of twelve years old. Yet ambition, and a
true desire to learn, for the good it would do my own mind, conquered
the shame, and I agreed to try. But I did not reach this state of
mind instantly.
I was greatly moved by the conversation I had with Tom, so much so
that I could not undertake to preach that day. The congregation were
disappointed, and I passed the Sunday in solitary reflection in the
woods. I was too much engrossed with the multitude of my thoughts
within me to return home to dinner, and spent the whole day in secret
meditation and prayer, trying to compose myself, and ascertain my
true position. It was not difficult to see that my predicament was
one of profound ignorance, and that I ought to use every opportunity
of enlightening it. I began to take lessons of Tom, therefore,
immediately, and followed it up every evening, by the light of a pine
knot, or some hickory bark, which was the only light I could afford.
Weeks passed, and my progress was so slow that poor Tom was almost
discouraged, and used to drop asleep sometimes, and whine a little
over my dullness, and talk to me very much as a schoolmaster talks
to a stupid boy, till I began to be afraid that my age, my want of
practice in looking at such little scratches, the daily fatigue, and
the dim light, would be effectual preventives of my ever acquiring the
art of reading. But Tom's perseverance and mine conquered at last, and
in the course of the winter I did really learn to read a little.
It was, and has been ever since, a great comfort to me to have made
this acquisition; though it has made me comprehend better the terrible
abyss of ignorance in which I had been plunged all my previous life.
It made me also feel more deeply and bitterly the oppression under
which I had toiled and groaned; but the crushing and cruel nature of
which I had not appreciated, till I found out, in some slight degree,
from what I had been debarred. At the same time it made me more
anxious than before to do something for the rescue and the elevation
of those who were suffering the same evils I had endured, and who did
not know how degraded and ignorant they really were.