“He was partial to the Gospel of John, and the best sermon I ever heard him preach was from the 15th chapter and 1st verse, ‘I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman.’ Feeling the infirmities of old age coming on, and knowing that Altheus had chosen the ministry, he often put him to the front in the pulpit, while he sat back, in his humble way, and directed the service. While sitting beneath the sound of his voice, in Scriptural language he doubtless thought to himself, ‘This is my son, in whom I am well pleased.’ He seemed to be getting ready for Altheus to step into his shoes, and carry on the good work he had begun. The foundation had been laid.”
Rev. Fort then paid fine tribute to the memories of his white people, Mr. Lawson Fort, and his pious wife. To the latter he said he owed his first religious impressions. When a mere boy waiting about the house, she talked to him of salvation in a way that he understood, and he was led to trust his Savior at an early age. And after he was a middle aged man, she often invited him to attend devotional exercises in the seclusion of her family room; on one occasion she requested him to lead in prayer, which he did.
Rev. Luke Fort, Guthrie, Ky.
Never having heard of the colored meetings held on the Fort plantation before the war, only in a general way, I asked Rev. Luke Fort if he remembered one, and he said he did, very distinctly. It was during the middle 50’s when he was about seven years old. It was Saturday night, and the first time he ever heard Uncle Horace preach.
The service was held in what they called Aunt Margaret’s house, a large, comfortable log room, with a shed at one end, and an upstairs. There were two doors in the main room, opposite each other, and facing east and west. Along between ten and eleven o’clock the meeting reached its most enjoyable stage. The good old time songs were making their souls happy. Uncle Horace led the songs, and his face wore that placid look that seemed to speak that no wave of trouble would ever roll across his peaceful breast, when a rap was heard at the front door, and before they had time to think, in rushed a band of patrolers!
As they came in at the east door, the confused congregation made hasty exit from the west door.
The news was quickly conveyed to the kind old master, who sent his son, the late Sugg Fort, to the scene of excitement. Young Mr. Fort approached the patrolers in a very dignified manner, and informed them that his father had sent him to tell them that their services were not needed on his premises. It was before the county line had been changed, Mr. Fort’s residence was then in Montgomery county, instead of Robertson, its present location, and the patrolers were from Port Royal.
(For the benefit of a younger generation of readers, I will state that patrolers were organized bands of white men, appointed in each neighborhood, for the purpose of going about at night and keeping order among a doubtful element of colored people who left home without passes, or written permission from their owners. The unfortunate condition of affairs demanded it, and still more unfortunate was it, that the appointment, or office, too often fell into cruel and inhuman hands.)
There lived at Port Royal, a fine looking colored man by the name of Dean Dancy, the property of the late John A. Dancy. It so happened that Dean was masquerading this particular Saturday night without a pass, and unluckily fell into the hands of the patrolers. Knowing they would deal roughly with him under such circumstances, he compromised the matter by telling them, if they’d let him off just this one time, he’d pilot them to a negro meeting, where they could find a housefull of people without passes, and this was why Uncle Horace’s meeting was so disturbed.