In the brush

by Hamilton W. Pierson

"No," said still another, "you've had the preachers a heap of times since I have. I hain't had nary one in a long time, and they must go hum and stay with me."

For myself, wearied as I was with the varied labors of the day, I should have greatly preferred remaining with the family where I was. But I left the matter for them to decide, and we soon started out, and taking a footpath through the underbrush, among the large forest-trees, we went in the darkness a mile or two, to an entirely new cabin. The logs had been peeled, and it looked very clean and nice. A large fire was soon blazing upon a hearth made of fresh earth, and roaring up a chimney made of split sticks covered with mud. It was the home of a young couple, who had but recently married and commenced housekeeping. There were two beds in the room. We sat before the bright fire and talked for some time, until I told them how weary I was, and they pointed out the bed which the preacher and I were to occupy. The room was new and bright, and the sense of cleanliness was most grateful to my feelings. I thought that in that new house I should enjoy that rare luxury in the cabins in the Brush, a nice, untenanted bed and a pleasant sleep. As I turned down the blankets and moved my pillow to adjust it, I saw what I at first thought was a drop of molasses dried on the sheet. I impulsively moved my finger toward the spot to ascertain what it was, and it ran! My pleasant dreams were all banished, and I plunged in, in desperation, to share my bed with such company as for months and years I had found in so many of the log-houses in the Brush. The mild climate and the habits of the people conspired to make the beds quite too populous and repulsive to be described.

Though my meals were often such that only necessity compelled me to partake of them, yet the want of beds fit to be occupied by a human being, after my long, hard days' rides, was by far the greatest of all my privations and trials in the Brush. If I were to describe all that I have seen and endured in this matter, it would not only be very unpleasant and repulsive reading, but would surpass belief with all those not personally familiar with the country and the people described.

After breakfast the next morning we walked back to the house where we had first called and left our horses, and sat with the family until it was time to leave for church. As we sat together, my clerical friend, who was of an inquiring mind, turned to me and said, "How do you preach the first seven verses of the twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes?"

I must here say that, in common with the great majority of his class, he used the word "preach" in the sense of "explain." My friend the Rev. Dr. S.H. Tyng, of New York, once told me that while preaching in a Southern State, in the early part of his ministry, a preacher of this class made him a visit. Seeing a pile of manuscripts upon his study-table, he inquired what they were, and was told that they were sermons.

"Why!" said he, in astonishment, "how many texts can you preach?"

These men were accustomed to "study" a passage in their manner, and form some opinions in regard to its meaning, and then they "preached" (explained) it on all occasions, with the most positive assurance in regard to the correctness of their views. Hence, when my friend asked me how I "preached" the passage alluded to, he wished from me a full exposition. Taking a Bible from the mantel-piece above the large fireplace, he turned to the chapter and read the first verse, as he had read the night before, and said to me, "How do you preach that?"

I gave my views of the passage in as few words as possible, and then he proceeded at much greater length to tell how he "preached" it.

As he concluded, the good sister, who had listened with face all aglow with delight, exclaimed: "Ah! Brother P—— has studied that!"

In this manner he read, and we gave our views of each of the seven verses.