In the brush

by Hamilton W. Pierson

"Now here's my heart, and here's my hand,
To meet you in that heavenly land,"

but they gave the cordial and often long-continued grasp. As the experiences, prayers, songs, and shouting became more and more animated and exciting, the hand-shaking became more general, until nearly the entire congregation, in larger or smaller groups or numbers, were shaking each other by the hand, keeping time in their movements to the wild Western melody they were singing. Hand-shaking among brethren and embracing among sisters formed a very prominent part in the religious services of these people in the Brush. This was especially cordial and earnest when one was converted, or, in their language, "came through," after long mourning and praying at the altar. Then parents, brothers, sisters, and warm Christian friends came forward and shook hands with them, or embraced them, amid a general chorus of songs and shouts from rejoicing friends.

As I had now visited nearly every part of the county (including several places to which I have made no allusion), I called a general meeting at the court-house on Sunday P.M., and organized a county Bible Society. Subsequently, I ordered a large supply of books, and the entire county was most thoroughly canvassed and supplied with Bibles. The results of this work were of surpassing interest, and I shall give some of them in a later chapter.

In my long tours with circuit-riders I was often greatly interested in the accounts they gave me of their experiences upon other circuits. One of them told me that he had joined conference many years before, when he was but nineteen years old. The first year he was sent to one of the roughest mountain-circuits in Tennessee. In addition to the usual outfit, he had a bear-skin overcoat, so that, if necessary, he might lodge at the foot of a tree. On receiving his appointment, his predecessor gave him a map of the circuit, upon which was indicated all the preaching-places, the families where he would be most comfortably entertained, and other items to aid him in the discharge of his duties. I learned that this was customary at the first conference that I attended, where I saw the preachers giving the maps they had prepared of their circuits to their successors as soon as their appointments were read out by the bishop. I was greatly interested in it, as I had so often felt the want of such a guide as I had floundered through the Brush, with nothing to indicate where I would find Christian sympathy and aid in my work. Having reached his circuit and entered upon his labors, he found it necessary to cross a mountain in order to reach one of his appointments, and preach to the families that were scattered up and down the narrow valley and over the mountain-sides. It was a very long day's ride, and only a mountain bridle-path, with no friendly family on the route to aid him should he lose his way. Having reached the top of the mountain, he found several paths leading in different directions, all equally plain, or rather equally blind, and nothing to indicate which one of them he should take. This was a most uncomfortable dilemma. Himself and horse were weary with the long ascent, night and darkness were coming on, and he had no time to lose. He took one path, followed it to the end, and returned. He took another and another with the same result. They all led to where a tree had been cut down for some wild animal, for bees, or for staves, shingles, or for something else, either for sale or for the use of the mountaineers. At length the darkness closed around him, and he made the best arrangements possible for spending the night upon the mountain-top. He fastened his horse, made as good a bed as he could with leaves and the other materials at hand, and lay down at the foot of a tree, finding abundant need thus early for his bear-skin overcoat. The night wore slowly away, and he did not like to trust himself to sleep; but, wearied with the toils of the day, it overcame him, and, as he was falling into a profound slumber, the terrific yell of a wild-cat broke upon his ear, and he sprang at once to the back of his horse. Having no other weapon than a large pocket-knife, he opened that, determined, as he told me, "to make the best fight he could with that" in case he was attacked. But he was spared this. There was no more disposition to sleep, and he could only watch and wait for the morning. At length he heard the chickens crowing in the valley below him, and as soon as it was light enough he started, taking the direction indicated by them. This led him down the side of the mountain to the family he was seeking, as directed by his circuit-map. It was near a large spring, forming the head-waters of one of the important Southern rivers (the Holston). Here he received the warm welcome that awaits the new preacher on his first tour around his circuit. Notice of his arrival, and that he would preach at their house that night, was soon sent to their nearest neighbors, and by them communicated to all within reach. They assembled promptly at night, in many instances the parents bringing all their children, old and young. As the different groups arrived, the men invariably brought their rifles and stacked them in a corner of the room as they entered the cabin. At length the room was filled, many of them sitting upon the floor, the children being seated nearest the fireplace. Taking his stand near the chimney-corner, he introduced the services by singing and prayer. As they had no candle or lamp, they prepared for his use a "slut." The light to which they give this not inappropriate name is made by putting oil or tallow in a tea-saucer, teacup, or any bowl or basin they may have, and placing in this a strip of cotton cloth, allowing the end of it to lie over the edge of the dish for a wick, which, when lighted, will burn until the tallow or oil is consumed, affording ample light. Sometimes they take small split sticks, tie them together, and insert the bundle in the tallow for a wick, as a substitute for the cotton cloth. With the aid of this light he was able to "line out" his hymns, and read a chapter in the Bible and his text. In my travels in the Brush I have seen a great many of these "sluts"—to say nothing of others.

At the conclusion of his services no one moved. All sat quietly, as they had during the evening. Now their curiosity must be satisfied. They wished to know all about him, where he had come from, and how he had got there. They were greatly interested in his account of his stay upon the mountain the night before. They knew all about the different paths he had taken, and gave explanations that were quite too late to be of service to him. At length, wearied with his long ride and watchings the night before, he fell asleep upon the bed upon which he had laid down while they were talking to him. In the midst of the night he was awakened by the noise of a terrific rain-storm, and heard the groaning of some animal in great distress near the house. He at once thought of his horse—that he had been hitched without any shelter—and feared that in the storm he had gotten down and was in this distress. An itinerant preacher without a horse in such a region would be in a sorry condition, and he had no time to lose. So, bounding from his bed in the darkness, he made his way to the door, but it was over a mass of human bodies. The entire congregation were asleep, apparently, in the same places they had occupied at the conclusion of his sermon. Instead of his horse, he found that a calf had gotten down, and the water from the roof was pouring upon it. He pulled it out from under the stream, looked after his horse, and returned to his bed. In the morning the congregation slowly dispersed, and he went on his way to other appointments around his circuit.

I was greatly interested and amused with some experiences entirely unlike these, which were related to me by my friend, whom I have already introduced to my readers, the first Methodist circuit-rider that I met deep in the Brush. He had some years before received an appointment to a circuit that was not in the mountains, but in a poor, broken, hilly region of country. Having been provided with a map of his circuit by his predecessor, he was making his way to a part of it known as "Coon Range." Everything indicated the extremest poverty and ignorance among the people. The very small patches of ground cleared and cultivated around their wretched cabins, and the coon, deer, and other skins that were hanging up around them, showed that the chief dependence of the people for a livelihood was upon the chase. Penetrating deeper and deeper into this utterly wild and desolate region, his horse struck and followed a neighborhood footpath until it led him to the back side of a cabin. An opening had been cut through the logs for a small window, but as yet there was no sash or glass in it. The woman, hearing the sound of the footsteps of his horse as he rode up, stuck her head out of this opening, and at the first sight saluted him with,

"How 'dy, stranger, how 'dy? I reckon you are our new preacher."

He told her he had been appointed to that circuit, and gave her his name. At this she was all excitement and joy, and said:

"'Light, Brother M——, 'light, sir. I'm mighty glad to see you. Brother K—— used to stay with us a heap, and I've got the 'class-book.'"

As soon as he entered the house she brought the class-book, and began to give him a full account of each member of the class. But he told her it was nearly night, and he had had no dinner. He had ridden all day, and he was very hungry and very tired. She replied to this intimation: