"We'll have supper d'rectly, Brother M——, d'rectly. The pig is in the pen. And Joe, he'll be home right soon, and get the water a bilin'. We'll have supper d'rectly, Brother M——."
To those unacquainted with the people in the Brush, the fact that "the pig was in the pen," and yet to be butchered, would seem to be a somewhat strange reason to give that the supper would be ready "d'rectly." But with her it was a very important advance in that direction. The rest of the pigs, of which I have elsewhere said these people, with little care, raised the greatest abundance for their own use, were perhaps miles away, in some unknown direction, ranging the forest for acorns, beech-nuts, and other "mast" that abounded in that season. "Joe" was such a provident husband that he had gone out and hunted those that belonged to him, called them up to his house, captured and "penned" one of them, perhaps in anticipation of the coming of the preacher. As the supper was so well assured to her, and not dreaming that the delay of a few hours could make any more difference with him than it did with the people in the Brush, she resumed the class-book, and began to go over the names, and tell how this brother could pray, and this sister shout, and how they could all sing, and what happy meetings they had had the last conference year, until he interrupted her with the story of his long ride, great fatigue, and intense hunger. To this she responded, in the most assuring manner:
"We'll have supper d'rectly, Brother M——, d'rectly. The pig is in the pen. Joe he'll be home right soon, and get the water a b'ilin', and we'll have supper d'rectly, Brother M——, d'rectly."
Having given him this, to her, perfectly satisfactory and renewed assurance, she went on with the greatest enthusiasm and earnestness to tell him of their love-feasts, and the wonderful "experiences" of some of the sisters, when, in utter despair of getting any supper from this zealous sister, he asked her the distance to the nearest family indicated on his map. She told him it was about three miles. He went out to his horse and mounted it. She followed him with blank amazement, and said:
"Why, Brother M——, you're not agwine, is you?"
He replied:
"Oh, yes, Sister; I must have something to eat," and started off.
Astonished beyond measure, she called after him, and he rode away hearing her emphatic promise:
"We'll have supper d'rectly, Brother M——, d'rectly. The pig is in the pen, and Joe he'll be home right soon, and he'll get the water a b'ilin' d'rectly, and we'll have supper d'rectly, Brother M——, d'rectly! d'rectly! d'rectly!"
Such are some of the experiences I have had with old-time Methodist circuit-riders in the Brush, and such are some of the accounts they have given me of their experiences upon other circuits. They are but specimens of such as were constantly occurring during the months and years of my ante-bellum labors in the Southwest. Many of them are so dim and faded on the tablets of my memory that I can not recall them. After so many years, I now, for the first time, record these on more enduring pages, thinking they may afford both pleasure and instruction, and anxious, also, to wreath a garland of merited praise around the brows of those toiling, and too little known, and too little honored circuit-riders in the Brush.