In the brush

by Hamilton W. Pierson

"Faith," said Pat, "and that is more than they will belave."

But these were not the hardest and most poorly remunerated of the labors of my friend. In some of his visits to smaller congregations on the "fifth Sabbath" his rides were much longer, and he encountered difficulties and discouragements such as most Presbyterian ministers have never dreamed of. I will relate a single case. A small church some fifty miles distant was without a pastor, and for a long time the sacrament of the Lord's Supper had not been administered to them. Always ready to aid and cheer such struggling churches, he promised to give them a "fifth Sabbath." I will here say that there were hundreds of churches of different denominations in the Southwest and South that did not have preaching every Sabbath. They enjoyed this privilege but twice a month, once a month, or less frequently. When their appointments for preaching were regular, the number of the Sabbath in the month was always specified, as, for instance, the first and third Sabbaths might be the days selected for preaching regularly at one church, and the second and fourth Sabbaths might be appropriated to two other churches. Or the first, second, third, and fourth Sabbaths might be the days fixed for regular preaching, once a month, at four different places. And so of all week-day appointments for preaching. They were always made for some day in the first, second, third, or fourth week in the month. Hence the people did not need to consult an almanac in regard to the day of the month, and there was rarely any mistake or confusion in regard to these appointments. Where several different denominations occupied the same court-house or building for preaching on successive Sabbaths, this was a matter of great importance. It always stirred bad blood when from design on either part these appointments conflicted, or, in the language of the Brush, "locked horns." From the simplicity of this method of making appointments the people would learn for miles around, and remember for months ahead, that a basket-meeting, sacramental meeting, or camp-meeting would commence on the second Friday in August, or the third Thursday in September, or any other day that was announced in this manner. As the "fifth Sabbath" is of infrequent occurrence, young preachers often took this day to visit their mothers and sweet-hearts, and old preachers made missionary tours and visited neglected neighborhoods and destitute churches. It was such a day and such a work my worthy friend had promised the little church to which I have alluded. After his accustomed labors for the week, he on Saturday performed the long, rough horseback ride, and on Sabbath preached and administered the communion to them. But it was not a pleasant service. The day was cold; the church, like others I have described, had no other foundation than blocks of wood; the hogs of the neighborhood had made their bed under it, and they successfully disputed all efforts to drive them from their warm shelter. Hence all the services of preaching and the administration of the Lord's Supper were performed with the accompaniment of their incessant squealing and fighting immediately under the pulpit and communion-table. The long, cold ride home extended into the darkness of midnight. How few have ever gratuitously performed so laborious a service with so little to compensate, so much to sadden and distress!

But such experiences were relieved by many of a far different character. To many feeble churches his coming was anticipated by all needed preparations, and he was greeted with great joy by the little flock. They listened with delight to the truths that they loved as they fell from his lips. Cheerful homes welcomed him and were gladdened by his presence. To many scattered families of the church to which he belonged his pastoral visits were all that they received, and they were the more prized because such visits were so rare to them.

Faithful, laborious, self-denying man of God! his toils have not been unrewarded in the past, and they will be abundantly honored in the future.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The late Rev. James Hawthorn, D.D., of Princeton, Kentucky. Every word of this record of his heroic labors was written while he was yet alive, and I did not wish to startle or offend his sensitiveness and modesty by giving his name to the public. But, now that he has gone to his full and glorious reward on high, I am most happy to pay this tribute of abounding veneration and love to this noble servant of our common Master. As his compensation for his purely missionary services was so very small, I once took the liberty of suggesting that he should receive a stipend from the Presbyterian Board of Home Missions. It was most respectfully, but positively declined. That was the true Pauline spirit of the man.

CHAPTER XIII.

STRANGE PEOPLE I HAVE MET IN THE SOUTHWEST.

I have met a great many very odd and strange characters in the Southwest. The peculiar life of the people developed their originality. They were not restrained by the laws and customs that control older and more established communities. Every man was a law unto himself. All that was unusual and peculiar in their natural characters grew in unrestrained luxuriance like the wild vines on their hill-sides and in their valleys. What any man or community might think of their actions or mode of life had the least possible influence in deciding what they should do or not do. The laws of fashion, generally so tyrannical, were utterly powerless with them. What any one else might think of the color, shape, or quality of a garment, had no effect upon them. They dressed entirely in accordance with their own notions of comfort. This same kind of independence characterized all their actions and their entire life.

I frequently passed the plantation of a very marked character of this peculiar type, who, by great energy and native shrewdness, acquired a large property, and became the owner of many slaves. His dress and personal appearance were such that strangers calling at his house on business often mistook him for a plantation "field-hand," and called on him to open the gate leading to his residence, or for any service they would expect from a slave. He could read and write, but his spelling was about as bad as possible. On one occasion he wrote an advertisement and took it to a printing-office. The proprietor, knowing his positive traits of character, told him as politely as possible that there were some mistakes in the spelling, which, with his permission, he would correct in printing the advertisement. The old man was as positive and unyielding in regard to his spelling as in regard to his dress and everything else, and would submit to no changes. That was his way of spelling, and his way was as good as anybody's way. It must be printed exactly as he had written it, or not at all. It was so printed; and in addition to the amusement it afforded to the people of that region, a copy was sent to a large museum in a Southwestern city, and was among the most amusing of all their curiosities.