May 20.—Harry brought me home last evening a letter from Dr. Cox; my hand trembled as I took it. It was kind, giving the necessary information, but perfectly non-committal as to advice. I carried the letter over this morning to the lady friend who had promised to help me pecuniarily. I made up my mind fully to undertake the study if she fulfilled her promise, and already I felt separated from the rest of womankind; I trembled and hoped together. But alas for promises and plans; she offered to lend me 100 dollars—when I am told that I shall want 3,000 dollars! I did not express my disappointment, but asked who would be likely to assist further? She did not know, but thought the plan I had suggested of teaching, and laying up money for a few years, decidedly the best.
Thrown thus entirely on my own resources, I finally resolved to accept a teacher’s position in a school in North Carolina, where, whilst accumulating money for future use, I could also commence a trial of medical study, for the Rev. John Dickson, who was principal of the school, had previously been a doctor.
My old diary of those years, still existent, vividly portrays the anxiety and painful effort with which I left the family circle and ordinary social life, and took the first step in my future medical career. I felt that I was severing the usual ties of life, and preparing to act against my strongest natural inclinations. But a force stronger than myself then and afterwards seemed to lead me on; a purpose was before me which I must inevitably seek to accomplish.
My own family showed the warmest sympathy with my plans. It was before the time of railways; the roads through Kentucky were little travelled; several rivers had to be forded, and three lines of mountains to be crossed. Two of my brothers determined to drive me to my unknown destination amongst the mountains of North Carolina. So the carriage was packed with books and comforts for the eleven days’ journey, and on June 16, 1845, with loving good-byes and some tears, in spite of strong efforts to restrain them, I left home for Asheville, North Carolina, to begin preparation for my unknown career.
I find interesting details of that long drive, when every day took me farther and farther away from all that I loved. We forded more than one rapid river, and climbed several chains of the Alleghanies in crossing through Kentucky and Tennessee into North Carolina. The wonderful view from the Gap of Clinch Mountain, looking down upon an ocean of mountain ridges spread out endlessly below us, and seen in the fresh light of an early morning, remains to this day as a wonderful panorama in memory.
We at last reached our destination—viz. the school and parsonage of the Rev. John Dickson (formerly a physician), where I was to teach music. The situation of Asheville, entirely surrounded by the Alleghanies, was a beautiful plateau, through which the rapid French Broad River ran.
I must here note down an experience occurring at that time, unique in my life, but which is still as real and vivid to me as when it occurred.
I had been kindly welcomed to my strange new home, but the shadow of parting with the last links to the old life was upon me. The time of parting came. My two brothers were to leave on their return journey early on the following morning. Very sadly at night we had said farewell. I retired to my bedroom and gazed from the open window long and mournfully at the dim mountain outlines visible in the starlight—mountains which seemed to shut me away hopelessly from all I cared for. Doubt and dread of what might be before me gathered in my mind. I was overwhelmed with sudden terror of what I was undertaking. In an agony of mental despair I cried out, ‘Oh God, help me, support me! Lord Jesus, guide, enlighten me!’ My very being went out in this yearning cry for Divine help. Suddenly, overwhelmingly, an answer came. A glorious presence, as of brilliant light, flooded my soul. There was nothing visible to the physical sense; but a spiritual influence so joyful, gentle, but powerful, surrounded me that the despair which had overwhelmed me vanished. All doubt as to the future, all hesitation as to the rightfulness of my purpose, left me, and never in after-life returned. I knew that, however insignificant my individual effort might be, it was in a right direction, and in accordance with the great providential ordering of our race’s progress.
This is the most direct personal communication from the Unseen that I have ever consciously had; but to me it is a revealed experience of Truth, a direct vision of the great reality of spiritual existence, as irresistible as it is incommunicable.
During my few months’ stay in this friendly household I borrowed medical books from the Doctor’s library, for my purpose of becoming a physician was known and approved of.