"I take back nothing I have ever said: they are corrupt, unprincipled villains; if they want satisfaction out of me for what I have said—and it has been no little—they can find me here any day of life, right where I have lived and preached for thirty years."
There was one remark which the old man made that afternoon which I have never forgotten. Mrs. Brownlow had been telling about the dirt the Rebel guards made in her hall, with their tobacco, as well as the noise incident to the changing of the guard every two hours, and their rude intrusion into the bedroom at all hours—to get warm, they said. The Parson in an undertone, as if exhausted by his previous outburst, said:
"They are worse than weeds in the garden, and exactly like fleas out in my hog-pen there;" stopping for breath, he kept on: "Why, they play cards on my front porch on Sunday, and I, a preacher, have to hear their oaths in my house, that would blister the lips of a sailor."
When I laughed at this a little, he growled out:
"Oh those cowardly assassins, who disarm women and children, and set bloodhounds after their fathers and grandfathers, who are hiding from their persecution in the Smoky mountains in this winter weather, have the meanness, without the courage, to do anything."
I was entertained that afternoon in a way that made such an impression on my mind that I shall never forget even a single striking point that occurred, and the reader is referred to the files of the Cincinnati papers of the winter of 1862 for an account of this interview, which, as a war correspondent, I reported at that time. Once the Parson got fairly started, the rest of the party became interested as well as amused listeners. When he would run down a little, something would be said that would seem to wind him up again, and he would go off like a clock without a pendulum or balance wheel. Something was said about the geographical or commercial effect of the proposed separation of the South from the North. I think I must have said something to lead up to this, as the Parson turning to me, said, while pointing his long, bony finger toward me:
"Young man, it can never be done."
And, by way of illustration, he continued in an impressive and intensely dramatic way:
"This Union will be dissolved only when the sun shines at midnight, or when water flows up stream."
Some one interrupted to say, laughingly: