On his return, I asked him if he had any pastoral charge. “Yes,” said he, “I built a church on my own land close by, and preach there every other Sunday.” We were soon engaged in a religious conversation, and my views of truth were soon tested. “Well,” said the old parson, “I thought you was a Methodist preacher, but I find I was mistaken; but I guess you are a Presbyterian, which is no better.” Finding the old man belonged to what was called the Ironsides, or rigid Antinomians, I thought it quite useless to talk to him.
Before I could get rid of him he made me tell my business. “Well,” said he, “you are going about plundering the country. It was the Bible, Tract, and Missionary Societies that broke up the country in 1837 and ’38.”
As I was tired, and proposed to go to bed, “Well,” said he, “there is a bed in that corner for you.” “As you are a preacher,” said I, “of course you have family prayer, and I would prefer waiting to join you in it.” “Ah,” said he, “every one does their own praying here.” “Is it possible,” said I, “that you are a preacher, and have no family prayer, when God has said he will pour out his fury on the families that call not on his name?” “Oh,” said he, “you may pray if you please.” Seeing an old family Bible on a shelf, I took it down, and read a part of the seventh of Matthew. I commented on the verse, “Strive to enter in at the strait gate,” etc. The moment prayer was over, he said, “I don’t believe a word you said.” I was soon in bed and asleep, being tired.
When I awoke there was a good fire, and the old man sitting beside it. I was up in a few minutes. “I am glad you are up,” said he, “as there is another point I must discuss with you.” In a few minutes I quoted proofs from the Bible too clear to be resisted; when the old woman, who was of huge dimensions, sprang out of bed in her night-dress, and presenting herself before me, said, “Don’t talk to that fellow; he is a Yankee, and he is setting traps to catch you.” The old man soon disappeared to attend to his still-house and cattle, and the old woman and granddaughter occupied the whole front of the fire, making their toilets; the old lady, in her earnest conversation, frequently using a long wooden fire-poker in close proximity to my head.
As the granddaughter was sitting near me, completing her toilet, I spoke to her about her soul, and offered her the Dairyman’s Daughter. This roused the old woman again; and the old man, returning about the same time, forbade her to touch the book. The girl cried bitterly, and said it was such a pretty book she did want it, and there was not a book except the old Bible in the house. The girl’s tears prevailed, provided I would write a receipt in it that it was paid for, which was done.
As soon as breakfast was over, and my horse ready, I asked for my bill. “One dollar,” said the old man; “I make it a rule, when any of you Yankees come this way, to fleece you as well as I can.” This man was rich; had a great distillery, and I was credibly informed would take a bottle of whiskey with him to the church, and at the close of his services tell his people what a fine run of whiskey he had just had, and to come and taste it.
About a month after, on my return home, I stopped to stay all night some few miles from there, when lo, Parson W—— had stopped to stay too; but as soon as he saw me, he ordered his horse, and left. I had told about my lodging with him; and as the laws of Virginia at that time imposed a fine of twenty dollars on any one who had no license charging for lodging, some one had told the old man that I was going to bring him before the court.
CHAPTER IX.
About this time an incident of peculiar interest took place. The Rev. Mr. Q—— had invited me to visit the town of C——, and I had set a day to be at his house. Late in the evening of the day appointed, I arrived in the town; and while driving along the street, looking for his house, I saw him standing on his portico, beckoning me to him.
As soon as I had alighted from my buggy, he gave me a cordial shake of the hand, and said, “You have come just in time to see and hear one of the greatest dignitaries in the state of Virginia.” I observed that I was perhaps a little different from many others; that I would not go a square to see a great man, unless he was a great good man. “Well,” said he, “he ought to be a good man; he’s the bishop of the Roman-catholic church for this state; and as he is the first live bishop of the Holy Catholic church who has ever been here, he is attracting a great deal of attention. He preached in the court-house this morning, and it was crowded; and he is going to preach here for several days and nights. He has one or two priests with him, and they have come to plant a church here. Will you go and hear him?” “Yes,” said I; “if you go, I will go with you.”