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REYNOLDS HISTORICAL GENEALOGY CC LLECTION
Q^
I
fllllirill'iVl^l^l!,r,J'«P,i-.'.9>'BRARY
3 1833013697187
RECOLLECTIONS
OF
THE IlEV. JOHN JOHNSCM
AND HIS HOME:
I
1
0
BY MRS. SUSANNAH JOIiNSON.
^ EDITEP BY
THE REV. ADA:M C. JOIINSON, M.D.
SOUTIIEKN ,METIIODi:ST PUBLISHING iipUsij.. 18GI). !
Ittii096
l".nt<T.-J. nceoniing to Act of C'on^'ii-K, in the year 1SC9. by A. n. REDFORD, tlio I'i.-tik'lCoiirt of tho UiiitC'l States for the MiddU- District of Teiin'.'.i.^ce.
sTr8.-.inn'it> at tue soitiiekx metkopist rtBUJniNo iioc-f.,
NASIIVILT.K, TENMKSgT.E.
CONTEXTS.
ClIArXER 1.
Parextage AND Nativity ■ 9 r
Removal to Kentucky 16 '
CHAPTEU 11. j
I J
.CHArXEIi III. I
Kt'UCATION 21 .
CHAPTER IV. I
r.KI.I(;iOfS InELUENCES AND CONVEESIOK 27 ,
!
CHAPTER V. I
The same— continued 31 ^
CHAPTER VL • [
Mr.. Johnson's Fauentage and Nativity 40 j
CHAPTER VII. I
Mk. Johnson's Education — Removal to Texne-see 44 j
CHAPTER VIII.
Mr. Johnson's Conversion and Call TO I'REACTi 49
CHAPTER IX. i
Mr.. JoiiNJON on lIorKiiocKiNG Circuit, in Oinn 53
(3)
4 CONTKNTS.
CHArTI'K X.
Mr. Jounson on WniTK Oak Circuit, ix Ohio 58
CHAPTini XI.
i Mr. Johksox on Bjg Sandy Circuit C2
1 .>^ CHAPTER XII.
Mr. Johnson on Natchez Circuit, in ]Mi3.-issipri 68
, CHAPTER XIII.
1 Mr. JonK.soN on Nashville Circiit, in Tenne.'^ske 80
j CHAPTER XIV.
Me. Johnson on Livingston Circuit, in Kentucky— Marriage. SO
CHAPTER XV.
Mr. Johnson on Christian Circuit, in Kentucky 100
CHAPTER XVI. Mr. Johnson on Goose Creek Circuit 107
CHAPTER XVII. The same— continued 115
• CHAPTER XVIII. Mr. Johnson on Livingston Circuit, in Kentucky 122
CHAPTER XIX.
Second Year on the same Circuit 129
CHAPTER XX.
Mr. J0HN.SON Stationed at N.^shville, Tennk^.-^ee 110
CHAPTER XXI. Second Year at Nashville 149
CONTENTS. h
CJIArT]-]R XXII. I
Mr.. JoHXSox ox Ri:u Rivkk Cii;ciit, in TEN->-Essi:r: 157 | .
CHAPTER XXni. j
Mk. Joussox at lIoi'KixsviLLr, KLxxrcny 1G7
CITAPTER XXIV.
Mn. .Tons?o:? Stationed at Loui.svn.r.r: 177
CHAPTER XXV. j
Mk. Johnson Stationed at May?vili.f. ISG ;
CHAPTER XXVI. |
Mu. Johnson on Ked River Cikcuit, in Tennessee 195 \
CHAPTER XXVn. |
Mr. Johnson is SurERANNUATED 210 ,
CHAPTER XXVIII. j
ThF. SAMK— CONTINUED 21S :
CHAPTER XXIX. |
Mh. Johnson on Green PavER, or Hopkinsviixe District 220 i
CHAPTER XXX. !
The same— continued 23..> j
CHAPTER XXXI. j
Kiftken Years in Mount Yerncn, Illinois 214 '
CHAPTER XXXII. j
The same — continued ""'*
CHAPTER XXXIII. The same— continued 2C4
K
' 6 CONTENTS.
I CHArXER XXXIV.
: My Josei'II 274
CHAI^TER XXXV. Nine Yraks in the Country 2S2
CIIArXER XXXVI.
Mr. Johnson's Last Illness and Death 291
CIL\rTER XXXVII.
CoNCLVsioN — Ten Years of 'Wilowiiood 297
APPENDIX— Xo. I. Mr. Johnson's View.o on Slavery 305
APPENDIX— No. II.
Funeral-sermon in T^Iemoky of Valentine Cook 312
APPENDIX— No. III.
Mr. Johnson's Exposition OF TEE CnuRcn-TRiALS AT Louisville. 326
APPENDIX— No. IV.
Letters Referred to in Chapter xnxiv 341
APPENDIX— No. V.
Letters Referred to in Chapter xxxv ' 345
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
Tjik substance of tlic following pages was cliclatc-<l by ip- venenUcd niolbcr, and taken do^Yn in sliort-liand by myself, two or three years ago; and I have waited thus long for time and opportunity to prepare her rveoollcctions for the l))-ess. This delay has caused me to forget, or to feel a de- gree of uncertainty respecting, some minute details whiih, trusting to ii usually faithful memory, I neglected to embody in my notes. Yet I can assure the reader that cverfj state- ment, in cvcnj particuhir, Avith three or four possible excep- tions—this is the number in regard to which I feel a shade of uncertainty* — is perfectly accurate.
In clothing the statements and the thoughts of my mother Avith words, I have studied to avoid inappropriate language, and to use no expression which I had reason to fear that she
*TIius, I am not positive that tho occurrcnco related on page 200 took place at Slater's; nor tliat. the details of tho old lady, a3 given on page 132, are exactly as related to me; nor that the incMouts of tho debate with Vardiiaan occurred in tho crvact order stated on page 1G2.
(7)
. . ^ ••* ' J..;. .
i 8 EDITOR S PRKKACE.
•I -would cHsiipprovc. This I have been more careful to do,
■ because it is impracticable fur me now to submit the work ' to l\er for examination, licA>re going to press.
Without asking the charity of the reader, I may remind
, him that the splendor of diction, the breadth of view, and the disregard of minor detnils, ^vhich "we expect of the his- torian, we do not expect in any autobiography, and least of all in the personal recollections of a woman of the olden. time.
The funeral-sermon in memory of Valentine Cook, Ap- pendix, No. 2, 1 had to decipher from an imperfect, defaced, and mutilated copy, which has been exposed to the wear and tear of removals, etc., of the last forty-five years, and
\ looks as if it were not very legible at first; but I thought it
j worthy of preservation.
! '^hc volume is sent forth with an earnest prayer that it
■ may do good. Adam C. Johnsox.
* \
II E COLL E C T IONS
OF
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON
A-NT3 FIIS 1-IOME.
CIIAPTEIl I.
PAllEXTAGK AND NATIVITV.
What a sliaiigc and beautiful light it is tliat gath- ers around the morning of life ! But especially when we catcli its beams from beyond a life of sev- enty years, and yet more when those have been years of darkness and trial, it seems to acquire the brightness and beauty of heaven itself.
The home of my nativity was a large and tasteful dwelling, but lialf a mile from Newberry Court- liouso, in South Carolina. It has always seemed to inc that that home was a pleasant one. The garden was spacious, and looked diversified ; but I cannot recollect what it contained. The yard, or court, was covered with sand, as bare and as smooth as a Band-beach; but two or three groups of evergreens relieved its sterile aspect, and aflbrded an almost
(9)
10 KECOLLKCTIOXS OF
impenetrable sliadc. Tlie village of jSTeAs-bcrry — a dozen or so of elegant mansions — was full in view; and half as many farms, with residences scarcely vis- ible through clustering trees and shrubbery, made up the landscape around it.
Here I was born, on the 22d of October, 1794; and I have heard my mother say, that for three months I was never known to utter a cry, or to cx- liibit any sign of suffering or distress. Indeed, she had become so much alarnicd at my protracted quiet, that she was overoome with joy when she heard the first cry that I uttered. Strange that so long an exemption from tears should begin a life as tearful as ever a daughter of Adam led!
^My father's name was Thomas Brooks, lie was the youngest of ten children. His brothers were Jesse, Matthew, AVilliam, James, Daniel, David, and Joel. I remember Jesse well. lie was a Daptist preacher. When I was but a child, he visited us. In holding family worship, he read the third chapter of Galatians; and liis white head, his venerable bearing, and his slow and tremulous enunciation, produced an impression upon me that time can never eflace. Little did the old man think that liis very words on that occasion would be remembered for seventy years ! Indeed, we all too seldom reflect how deep and lasting an impression a word or act of ours may make up<Mi the infant mind. David was a Quaker [ireaeher; my fatlier, also, was a mem- ber of the same society. Jiis eldest sister, Judy, was married to George Pcmbcrton ; the younger, Alary, to a Mr. Thornbcrry. My grandmother'd
THE llEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 11
iiitiidoii name was Elizabeth Warren; my grand- fatlicr, Matthew Brooke, a native of Virginia, was horn of English parentage, and lived near Rich- mond.
Of the fate or fortnne of the relatives named, I know ]>ut little. Jesse removed to Kentucky, near the Tennessee line, on Ked Kiver. .James, Matthew, and Daniel, lived in South Carolina, and David in Xorth Carolina. AV^illiam and Joel remained in Virginia. George Pemberton removed to Kentucky with my father. Tliornberry lived in East Tennes- see, not very far from Crab Orchard. "William was a sportsman. My grandparents both died while my father was a boy, and he was bound to a man whose name I liavc forgotten. Wlicn grown nearly lo manhood, unable to endure this man's severity, lie ran away to South Carolina, and took refuge with Ills si-t.-r ]'emberton, making his home tlicrc until he was niarried, in 1775.
My modjcr's maiden name was Susannali Teaguc. JliT father, Elijah Tcague, was captain of a com- jiany of what might be called Itegulators, who before, and at the beginning of, the Revolution, were employed to hold in check the outhiws that abounded in that part of Korth Carolina. AVhcn the war came on, the desperadoes received such ac- cessions IVom that wild and profligate class of men whicli wars always let loose to prey upon the country, that they soon became too strong for the Regula- tors, and Captain Teague was compelled to tly the country. Truly those were " troublous times." Those wicked men visited the homes of the old ami
12 RECOLI.KCTIONS OF
defenseless, and plundered them of money and other valuablc3 in open day. Id. parties of from two to fifty, according to tlio ontcrpri'^e they had in hand, they scoured the country, assnming sometimes the guise of the British, sometimes that of the Amer- ican forces ; and taking, by force or by fraud, by theft or by violence, whatever was of value and could bo carried away. Old hates and jealousies that had lain concealed and festering long for lack of opportunity to get revenge, now burst forth with- outTcstraint; and the torch and the rifle-ball, arson, and robbery, and assassination, from week to week, rehearsed the tale of glutted vengeance. So nu- merous were these marauding parties that no sex, age, rank, or station was safe. "Danger encircled every dwelling, and death lurked in every path." The number of those who were willing to be known as avowedly hostile to the lawless clans, diminished as the danger increased, and those who had been marked as such, were forced to iiee for safety to the cities, the mountains, or the adjacent States.
i Captain Teague left his home and family, as before stated, and lied to South Carolina. In a short time his family followed him. So also did his savage enemies. " Skulking stealthily about in the vicinity, tljey waited for an opportunity when he was lielp- lo?:3, and waited not long. One day, when none of his family were at home but his wife, eiglit villain- ous-looking fellows came upon him as ho sat at his fireside, and without stopping to ask or to answer questions, seized him, and conveyed him, by force, to the lawn in front of the house. He was a pow-
TlIK REV. JOHN JOUNSON. 13
erfiil man, but his strengtli was vain against such odds. Perfectly heedless of the tears, and entreat- ies, and frantic sliricks of the poor woman, they fastened a rope about his nock, swuncj him to a tree, and completed their bloody and dastardly work by sending half a do/:on balls through his body before life was extinct. But the feud did not end here. Afy grandmother had recognized the murderers ; she had three sons, and some other relatives ; and tliesc soon united, prepared themselves, and set out in pursuit. And such was their desperate determin- ation that, though months were required to com- plete their terrible task, not one of the heartless band, except one Ned Mitchusson, escaped their deadly rifles.
The sons of Elijah Teague were Joshua, Elijah, and Samuel. Joshua and Elijah lived and died in South Carolina — Samuel removed to Ohio. Elijah Teaguo's daughters., were Lurania, Isabella, Susannah, and Charity. Lurania was married to William Somers, or Summers; Isabella, to Benjamin Simpson; Susannah, to Thomas Brooks; and Charity, to John Bclton. Simpson went to Alabama; the rest, I think, remained in South Carolina. My Grandmother Teague's maiden name was Ailsey Davis.
Two things must have impressed the reader's mind, as they have my own: the size of the fami- lies in those days of simplicity, and the extent to which they drew upon the Bible for the names of their cliildren. Two-thirds of all the persons that I have mentioned, were honored with names derived
14 IIECOLLKCTIONS OF
from Holy AViit. It is also remarkable tbat not one of them liad a double name, and not one was named for a distinguished person of modern times.
My parents ^vere married, as belbrc stated, about tlie year 1775; and it is well known 1o readers of our national liistor}' that the South was not visited by troops in very large numbers till some time in the year 1778. From the battle at Sullivan's Island, in 1770, till the capture of Savannah, in 1778, the
I heavier tramp of open warfare was scarcely heard in South Carolina. But during this period the peo- ple experienced that fearful uncertainty of life and property which is so little in the eyes of the histo- rian, and so vast in its effect upon the popular heart.
I On one occasion a band of pretended soldiers
j came to my father's, in quest, as they said, of arms
I and ammunition. JTot satisfied with the assurance that there was nothing of the kind on tha premises,
• they searched in every place where it was possible or impossible for a gun or a pound of powder to be
j concealed; and, as my mother expressed it, "turned every thing in the house upside down." And though they found no guns or ammunition, they found some things which seemed to satisfy Ihem as well; for one went off Avith a coat under his arm, auothcr a blanket, a third a pair of pants, a fourth a couple of bacon-hams, while the tips of mother's new spoons were visil.>le in the pocket of another.
, This was but the beginning of such troubles : horses, provisions, stock of all kinds, were taken and driven away ; and many a time was the loaded mu.-^ket lev-
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON.
15
C'lcd at my fallicr's breast, while lie moracntly ex- pected to be hurried into eternity. So frequent were such depredations, that it was with extreme diffieulty that lie managed to sustain his little flimily throuiih the war.
16 llKCOLl-ECTIOXS OP
CHAPTEll II.
KKMOVAL TO KENTUCKY.
In 179G, my fallicr deten-nined to remove to Keu- 1 tucky, nnd scUlo near liis Brother Jesse, on lied ' Kiver. His family was now large, and lie wished to 1 locate where his children could find homes around
him when they chose. He had four sons and four
daughters; and, like the rest, he gave but one I name to each: Tahitha, Thomas, Elijah, Jesse, i David, Mary, Elizaheth, Susannah. The second I child was called ^lary, hut died in iufoncy, and I the same name was given to the next daughter. ' Another was born in Xentucky, and named lie- :■ becca. -My father detested a nickname, but he liad j shortened names for us all : Bitha, Tommy, Lijah, I Davy, Tolly, Betsey, Suky, Becky. I . My mother never crossed my father in any of his • purposes; but her heart clung most fondly to her I South Carolina home. She thought that her chil- I drcn, when arrived at maturity, might seek homes
in new count rles; and for the sake of keeping the ' family together, she consented to remove. Yet she
could never talk about it without tears. She vrept I incessantly while packing up and preparing for the I journey. Father was pained, but hoped that time
THE REV. JOIIX J01IN?0X. 17
would bring resignation and cheerfulness. As wc filarted, she sobbed convulsively. i\t every stream, and at every hill, she burst forth afresh into weej)- iiig, exclaiming, "There is one more liill, or one more stream, betv/een inc and my lovely home!" Often she would say, when father was not present, "I M'ould willingly sec every thing we possess on earth in flan\es, if that would take us back to our old home! "
vStill onward we pursued our way. Our neigh- bor, James Wadlington, was in company; and most of the time right merrily did liis boys and ours travel along. Kight merrily did they caper around when the day was past, when the teams were munch- ing their food, and the blazing camp-fire? began to ilhiminate the woods.
A little accident aflorded us a great scare at tlio time, and a great deal of sport afterward: Wiulliiigion'B wagon was upset, and it really seemed tlint the boys would lose their wits. AVilliam — afit-rward Oeneral — -jerked off his hat and throw it up to an astonishing height, wishing that he WHS dead, and using other frantic exclamations. Tlius M'ent we gaily on; but still her grief pressed like a mountain of darkness on my mother's heart.
On reaching our destination, father proceeded at once to plant a crop: and with various labors the f^nmnior slowly wore away, ^fother grew feeble iind ].alo. }>y nature tall and slender, she became 'nore frail and slender still; and her mind began to •'how too plainly that her distress was greater than
18 llECOLLKCTIONS OF
she coiilJ bear. Fatlicr at Icugtli ngTOcd to return to Carolina as soon as lio could gather and dispose of his crop; and this lie accordingly did. It ^va3 barely in time; for weeks elapsed after our return, and she was still tottering on the veigc of the grave.
But, as time ])asscd on, she regained her strengtii. Iler mother died; a brother removed to Ohio, and a sister to Alabama. ]My eldest sister had been married to Jesse Pemherton, son of George, before mentioned; and he and his father both were desirous to emigrate to the AVest. Five years had severed many a tender tie, and many a fond association only lived in memory now; so mother agreed to a second removal, and early in the spring of 1801, we made the journc}'.
I was then in my seventh year. The morning of our departure was bright, serene, and beautiful. 0 how brightly the sun shone, and how joyously the whole world glittered, seventy years ago ! We were all delighted with the prospect of novelty and adventure ; and the fact that mother looked pleased, and often smiled upon us, excited us to transports, and to frequent bursts of uncontrollable hilarity.
AVe stopped a M-cek or two at the Crab Orchard, at Uncle Thornberry's, to rest and recruit our teams; and while there, they told us a circumstance that had jnst occurred in that vicinity. It had been raining for a day or two, and tlie ground was satu- rated witii water. On one of the spurs of the mountains the road was cut down hy raijis and co'i- stant use to such an extent that a bank of twenty feet was left on one side, while the hill sloped grail-
TIIK 11 EV. JOJIN JOHNSON. 19
ually away on the otlicr. Boiiie movers were coming aloii!?, and a little girl of tlie party Lad stepped :iM(lo to pluck a flower or a piece of shining ore, wliioh she saw a few steps from the roadside. This (hlaycd her, and she fell behind. All at 0)ico the oomiiaiiy were a}ipalled by a sudden crash, and on looking- luK'k they saw that a portion of the bank had fallen, and completely obstructed the road. The little girl was missed at the same instant, and of course it was supposed that she must have been ])uried under the falling bank. Search was made, and their fears were confirmed ; it was even so. The parents were frantic, and the rest of the com- )>any so excited that it was some time before any tiling rational could be done ; but one of the young in<M\ seized a hoc, and another a spade, and right manfully did they begin the work of digging out tho buried child. Presently they heard lier voice ; it ujis faint and husky, but it served to guide them in ihc'ir operations, and to encourage more vigorous exertions. ICvery tool in the train that could be u-od in digging, was brought into requisition, while the mother and the other children used their hands ' in throwing out the stones, and even in clawing
desperately in the dirt. In about two hour.-, she was restored to her mother's arms, absolutely unhurt! AVhen the crash came, she was looking up into a large, hollow tree, of which about one-third had been burnt a\\ay by the camp-fires of emigrants; and she stood, as it were, in a huge, natural Frank- lin-stove, which comi)letely sheltered her from the falling mass.
20 KECOLT.ECTIOXS OF
Again Avc were on oiii- way, and steadily })ursucd our course till, in due time, we arrived at Eddy Grove, a part of wliat is now Caldwell county, Ky. Hero father bought some four hundred acres of land, and located for life. JIc seemed to feel that he was in a wild, unpolished country; quietly sub- mitted to the influence, resi^nied his ambition, and laid aside Ids pride. He erected a double cabin of logs — two large rooms, witli an open passage be- tween— and in tliis house he resided till death.
THE IIKV. JOUN JOHNSON. 21
CIIAPTEll III.
];i)UCATIOX,
Ouu first school in the Eddy GJrovc was tanu'ht by l>rother Elijah in an old coru-crib. The crib was of logs, about twelve by sixteen feet in size; mid it had been improved by having another log or two Fawed out to enlarge the door, having the cracks *' chinked and pointed," and liaving a spacious wofidon chimney, with a fire-place about ten feet h'Ug, built at one end. Here Elijah agreed to teach thrwo months; and every child was to bring liim a d-'lhir in silver on the last day of the school. There \v<Te two seals, each running the whole length of the room, and both being formed of a log split open, llio Ihit f>ido being liewu or trimmed to something like a smooth surface, and the round side liaving rwugh pegs stuck in for legs. Of course they were without backs, except that they were placed against the walk There were two or three stools also, con- structed in the same style. A large hewn slab, about two feet wide by six in length, supported on hui:;e pegs about two feet and a half in Icngtl;, served '''•^ general writing-desk for all.
This school, like, in fact, all that I ever at- tf'iidcd, was what they denominated "loud." And
22 KKCOLLKCTIONS OF
loud it undoubtedly was. Every scholur studied at the very top of his voice, eadi one secmiug intent iCt excel his neighbor; and the result ^va8, a noiso "as of many waters" that might at times be licard at the distance of lialf a mile. But I soon became accustomed to the confusion, and progressed so rapidly as to learn the alphabet, to spell pretty Avell, and to read a little in the Testament, before the close of the session.
I went a while to a school taught by an Irishman named Hugh MoClellan; and from the photographs I liave seen of General George 13., I should sup- pose they must have been of the same stock. lie was as rough and passionate, however, as a man could be. If a large boy showed the least imperti- nence, he would knock him down with his fist in an instant. Yet he was very kind when not enraged, especially to the little girls. lie was quite kind to mo. I lieard him tell father, "Suky minds as well as any girl in school;" so I exerted myself to please him, and was so fortunate as to succeed. He had a parcel of types, and would frequently amuse us by showing us samples of his printing. At the close of his school, lie presented each of his pupils with a pamphlet of some dozen pages, ofhis own printing, entitled the "Eddy Grove vSongster." Like all the Irish tcuohcrs — and most oftho.se in early days were Ii-isli — lie pretended to be very learned ; and would frequently astonish us by the fluoney with which lie quoted Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. I suppose his quotations were in the native Irish tongue; but, as far as we were concerned, they answered
THE KEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 23
h\n i)urposG fully as ayoD as if tlicy had been gen- uine.
An old man named Taylor tanglit for us a ^vlnlo, but was not very liiglily esteemed, lie was a good, mild, kind-hearted man; and liis pupils did very much as they pleased. I never heard of liis being aroused l)ut once. There was a very bad boy in the 8cliool, of the name of Ford. lie liad brought to seliool with liim what all boys will at once know^ by the name of "a squirt-gun;" that is, a joint of elder l)orcd out, a pierced plug made fast in one end of it, and a miniature piston working tiglitly in the "bar- rel." There was a bole behind the liouse — what is familiarly called a "clay-hole" — wlierc dirt had been procured to daub the chimney; and whenever Ford could get out, he would slip to the "clay-hole," and ^'jicnd some time in squirting the water about. At K-nglh be discovered a little hole in the wall, where some of the daubing had fallen out; and on p'?c'jting through this hole, he saw that Father Tay- lor JKid Ids head within six inches of the wall. To conceive the project of squirting some water into the old man's ear, and to start for the hole, required not a moment; and hurrying back, he discharged the entire contents of his "gun" exactly, as he said, "where be wanted it." Ford, being a little excited, threw the water with great suddenness and force; the old man leaped from his seat, and shouted, "Heavens and earth! AVliat was that? "Who did that? I'll catch the scoundrel, so I will!" So out he dashed, and away went Ford; and the whole f^chool followed, laughing and yelling a^ if they
. 24 RECOLLKCTIOXS OP
Averc craz3'. But tlio raco was short, for Ford was soon out of sight, and the old man returned; hut he certainly lacked his usual good humor for the re- mainder of the day. It is imnecessary to add that Ford came hack to school no more.
My fourth and last session, making in all twelve months, was a school taught by John Ford — not a relative of the miscreant just referred to. He was far superior to any teacher that had taught in the Grove. Jlis education Avas good, and he was a man of fine appearance — neat and gentlemanly. His school was very large; for by this time quite a neat and spacious school-house had been built, albeit it was made of logs, and the settlement had become comparatively strong in numbers. This, I sn])pose, was in the year 1S09, as I was nearly grown. Here I completed my education by learning to write. I For a girl to study arithmetic, grammar, or geogra-
i phy, was a thing we never thought of. The two
I latter studies Avere scarcely known even among the
boys. The New QV^stamcnt was the only reading- book for schools that I had ever heard of; and I studied the same spelling-book that had served all the family botbre me, so well were books of that day bound, or so well taken care of. It was, I scarcely need sa}-, Dilworth's; it was bound in calf, and recovered with buckskin, and is still preserved in the library of my son, J)r. T. 1>. Johnson, of Kentucky.
Singing-schools liad now become pretty common. I attended one regularly, which was taught by a Mr. Hall, about the year 1S12. He oi>eiiod the ex-
TUE KEY, JOHN JOHNSON. 25
crciscs by singing and prayer; and so truly devo- tional was he, that he often exclaimed, "I wish no one to sing these words who cannot truly sing them from the licart." Sometimes he got quite happy; and more than once we liad "tlie shout of a king in the camp." I remember no pecnliarity in his mode of teaching, except that he wrote all the music that was used in the school. Every scholar had a Utile blank-book, and in this the favorite hymns and music were written by the teacher.
Most of my education was obtained at home. Here I leai-ned to card and spin both cotton and wool, and to weave in all the fashions of the da}-. I could lay out my patterns with various-colored threads upon a stick, and calculate how many cuts of each color I should want for a piece of cloth. 1 learned to make shirting, sheeting, cotton for drc'ssc?, counterpanes, table-cloths, jean, linsey, and every other fabric that was used in the country; .'iiKJ as lor knitting, I could do that in the dark as Well as in daylight, and even when in full trot from I'laoo to place. I knew all about milking, and making butter and cheese; washing, ironing, and bleaching; and in short, was skilled in all the labors that pertained to early life in the West.
Our family lived in unusual harmony. Father was quick and excitable, though all his words and actions bcsiioke the Quaker; and a more tender and eoniprissionate father I never sav.-. lie v.as a couple "f inches over six feet tall; and he was perfectly erect, and his step iirm and elastic, till he was more than eighty years of age. Mother was less cxcita-
2G iiEcoi.LECTioxs or
blc — her emotions were deep, strong, and abiding. She licld the reins over us with a steady hand, and yet — I know not ^Yh3■ — wo feared our father wore. So happily our time passed on, tliat I was wont to cheer my labors with o)ie ceaseless song. I kept time with streams of milk when milking, with every cast of the shuttle in weaving, with every stroke of the <'dash" in chniiiing, with every turn of the wheel in spinning; everything I did was "set to music;" every thing began and ended with a song.
THE KKV. JOHN' .70IIN'j?OX. 27
CHAP TE II IV.
lU'LIGIOUS INILUEXCES AXD CONVERSION.
I.\ my earliest recollection, tbc Methodists were few and despised. The Baptists liad meeting in our ncio-hborliood once a month ; and, as mother was a I'aptist, we attended these meetings quite regularly. We went to onlv the camp-meetings of the Meth- odists. AVilliam McKendree was Presiding Elder ^vll(■n we came to Kentucky, but I do not think he Im Id any camp-meeting in our vicinity— in fact, I do not know that wc so much as saw him. John P.ig«' v.-as Presiding Elder, and Thomas Wilkerson anil .bv--:o AValkcr circuit-preachers, at the first camp- mrciings that we attended— 1802, 180.3.
It was during their ministry that th.ose celebrated revivals occurred, which were accompanied by such » -lingular species of excitement. This was familiarly b-iio\vn among us as '* the jerks." I saw women, who Wire held by two or more strong men, throw them- selves back and forward with such violence, that tlicy 111 row the combs out of their liair, and then their 1" >>oned lock'^ would crack nearly as loud as a com- \\\()\\ carriage-whip. I saw one old lady spring from her seat, and jjass a dozen times across the liouse in <'vcry direction, by a succession of leaps of froni two
28 RECOLLECTIONS OP
to six i'eot ; aiul, to my astouislimcnt, she never foiled to light squarely and firmly upon a bench! This was the more remarkable, as the scats were like those in the school-lioiise before described, sim- ply split logs, somewhat smoothed upon tlie flat side, and averaging about seven inches in width. Another old lady of our acquaintance, who had heard of these strange exercises, but had not wit- nessed them, was fully convinced that it was "all put on ; " but went to the meeting on purpose more fully to satisfy lierself She sat for some time look- ing about, wondering who would be the first " to pop up and take one of them there tantrums." All at once, as she afterward told us, she felt something like a bullet rise up in her throat, with a taste as sweet as honey. She fell helpless to the ground, and was for a long time unable to breathe. Then she began to laugh; and nhc declared that her laughter was perfectly uncontrollable, and she found it impossible to stop; though she was seriously afraid it would take her life. When the paroxysm passed off, she seemed to feel exceedingly happy; and she expressed herself as entertaining views dif- fering materially from those with which she came.
Our next Presiding Elder was Lewis Garrett, aud circuit-preachers Jesse "Walker and Joshua Jjarnes in 1804, 180.3. Tlicy held one camp-meeting about two miles from us, at what M'as called the Head Spring. It was a time of "demonstration of the Spirit and of power." Garrett was then a middle- aged man, perhaps less than thirty-live years of age, of line ]>orsonal a[qK':uancc. lie dressed, of course,
THE KEY. JOHN JOHNSON. 20
ill the primitive Alctliodist style; but liis clothes were of the best materials, and "without spot or hlcniish." lie was a man of great dignity of car- jjago, though not large, and was a very impressive and elUcient preacher. His congregation " came up" slowly; but when they did become aroused, tlioy wore stirred up from the profoundest depths, and their emotions were still more slow to subside. Jle had lost a front tooth; and he had a peculiar liabit, cs])ccially when excited, of partially opening his mouth, ins])iring with great force, and thus pro- ducing a whistling sound so loud as to be heard to u considerable distance.
McKeudree was our Presiding Elder in 1806, 1807 — Wm. Houston being circuit-preacher in the for- mer and David Young in the latter year. I may hero state, that we did not often attend the meetings of the circuit-preachers, partly because it was incou- vcnient, ]>artly because wc did not esteem them very highly, and partly because our regular place of wor- ship was the Baptist meetings. It may also be added, that the preachers of that denomination — liaptist — were generally men of so little ability that they made no great figure in the world ; and at this time I remember nothing worthy of note in connec- tion with their meetings. We went to church, saw the people, saluted old friends, the ju-eacher said what he wished to say, and we came home.
As was our custom, wc attended the ^.Icthodist camp-meeting, v.-hich was within three miles of us; hut uttendetl only on Sabbath. McKcndrce was proinpt to a minute, and walked up into the stand
30 RECOLLECTIOXS OF
soon aftcT WG arrived. He was a large, raw-boned man, apparontl}' built for strcngtli and power of endurance; and bad clear-blnc eyes set nndor very lii^di eyebrows, dark bair, and fair complexion. His cbeek-bones M^erc liigli as an Indian's ; bis brow actually jntted out over bis eye, especially toward tbc temple ; and bis moutb and eyes expressed a deter- mination and a severity tbat was painful to bebold. Yet tberc was an expres:3ion of intellect and of lofty purpose tbat riveted tbc eye upon liim.
Standing for a i'cw minutes after be entered tbc pulpit, be said, in an abrupt and peremptory man- ner that startled us all, " Pull your bats off, and sit down ! " My fatber bad bis on, as usual. Tbc elder observed bim, and pointing bim out, said, in a tone 60 loud as to approacb tbc vociferous, "Pull your hat off!" Fatber mildly replied, "I intend no dis- respect for thee, friend, nor for any one ; but I wear my hat because it is the principle and practice of tbc Society to wbicb I belong." " Well," retorted Mc- Kendrec, with something of a sneer, *' we must bear tbc infirmities of the weak." Fatber was deeply wounded, lie arose and said, "I wear my bat in tbc presence of God Almighty, and I sha'n't take it off to such a creature as thee." And lie walked away, while the tears ran rapidly down bis face.
I think tbc elder could not have been in a very pleasant luimor on that occasion ; and the congre- gation manifested more or less of tbc same uncom- promising spi)-it. My cousin, Miriam Prown, sister to Judge Tom C. Prown, of Illinois, a young lady of splendid personal appearance, and, of course, a
•Till!; RKV. JOHN JOHNSON. 31
fair sliarc of pride, came sweeping down the r.islo with uu air, and a face withal, that would not have luishoeomc a queen, and paused a moment to look ahout for a seat. The preacher was just rising to hegiti the services; and he ordered her, in a very lond and imperious tone, to sit down. She turned upon liim a look of indescribable archness, and re- plied, " So I will, sir, if you will please to bring me a seat." ^McKcndree, I scarcely need say, was not generally a revivalist, and there was not a great deal of excitement at this meeting, at least whilst we were present.
James AVard succeeded to the charge of the dis- trict including our section of the country, iu 1808, and :Mi]cs Harper in 1809. Of Ward I remember little ; but we knew inore of Harper. lie diflercd in n\any respects from McKendrec. He was a large and somewhat corpulent man, with round, full, and ruddy face, a fine, large, and pleasant eye, a]\d a voice which, when ho was excited, really seemed to shake heaven and earth. He was a most eliective speaker, carrying his hearers along with the resist- less sweep of the hurricane.
Learner Blackman, who followed him, 1810-11, was a man of still another type; and the circuit- preacher, Peter Cartwright, was equally unlike them all. ]Jlackman was tall, rather slender, but erect, gentlemanly, dignified, grave, and impressive ; Cart- wright was short, thick, heavy-set, witli a large head and short neck, coar.-e and rough in his manners, and any thing else but grave. Blackman was a man ^v]lom everybody loved — no word but A;^; will express
32 KECOLLECTIONS OP
the feelings willi which all regarded hiin ; Caitwright was admired by some, hated by some, feared by others, and loved b}' none. Blackman was apparently always the fame; but Cartwright, after preaching with power, and praying as few other men could — for ho was unsurpassed in prayer — would have a, dozen or twenty persons, fro<piently some of them the roughest in the congregation, all indulging in uproarious laughter at his jests, before he was ten feet from the i)ulpit. JIo liad an indescribable "te- he-he" in laughing, Asliich Avas expressive of infinite merriment, and irresistibly contagious.
My first recollection of Cartwright is connected with a public exhibition at the close of a school which he attended. He jterformcd a part in a dia- logue, in the course of which something was to be read; and he acted well the part of an old man as I he slowly drew out his huge leathern spectacles and
adjusted them upon liis nose. From this time, I which must have been 1802 or 1803, I lost sight of
him until lie came on as our preacher, though wc knew his relatives well — at least as well as was de- sirable. It adds to his praise that he was of such I liumblc origin. His father, old Justinian Cart-
! Wright, was quite a poor man, and not so much a
bad as a good-for-nothing kind of man. >rrs. Cart- wright liad licoi\ a widow Wilcox, and had two sons — ]Odmund, who became a local preacher in the }kIethodist Church, and ejohn, who after a life of the ]nost lawless wickedness, fraud, theft, perjury, and I murder, atoned for his crimes upon the scalFold —
i stained in soul, as many believe, with the l/lood of
fy THE RKV. JOJIN JOllXSON.
Itif? own son. I believe the rest of the brothers anJ eistcrs kept "tlie noiseless tenor of tlieir way" "alonij the cool, sequestered vale of life," except Carlwright's Sister Polly. She "took up" with a nuin named rentecost, led a life of dissipation and (k'bauchery, and died respected or lamented by no- body. Old Mvs. Cartwright was a woman of tierce and ungovernable passions, suVyngating liusband, children, and all others in her power, in most relent- less Btvle. The last time I remember seeins: her, she was in what in her corresponded with a pleasant humor in other people ; and still her aspect was such that I was really afraid of her. 2
34 ' llECOLLLCTIONS OF
CIIAPTKU V.
Till-: PAMK — CONTINUED.
I I TiiixK 111}' lir:>t religious impressions were received
under the preaching of Miles Harper, about the year 1809. I exerted mysoir, as young people usually do, I to stillc them, and banish them iVom my mind. I
j liad heard something of Univer.sali.sm, and the more
' I felt myself in danger of hell.^ the harder I strove
I to doubt its existence. So deeply were these things
' impressed upon me, that I liad ii terrible dream. I
seemed to stand upon a large platform of logs, and on looking dov.-n from its .^ido, I beheld a boundless sea of fire. Gazing intently, I could distinguish the 1 points of the wavering ilames, and ever and anon an
j ami and clenched fist extruded above the surface,
I with here and there a head and face peering out for
I a moment, and sinking back with terrilic groan.
I looked up, and saw William Ford, a neighbor of ours, and a devoutly pious man, and asked him what \ this was. lie answered, "It is hell !" I hastened
from the si)ot, and found my way to father's orch- ard, and knelt down upon a largo white limcstono rock, partially shaded by an apple-troe. lli.-re 1 be- gan to I'ray, and i)rosontly motlicr, and a very pious neighbor — liachcl Osborne — seemed to stand at iny
It'ilOOG
THE UFA'. JOHN JOIINTOX.
hick'. 1 M'ns aljoul. to tell tliom my trouLlo, \vlicn my ii:.fOiiy bocnmc so intense thai 1 awoke. T iinmc- liiately resolved iliat I would escape tlie liorrors of the second death, if escape was possible.
i'reseiitiy I fell asleep again, and a strange form seemed to stand before mc, and to announce, in kIow and measured tones, "Tlirec years from this time you must die I " and it vanished. I awoke in great alarm, but soon afterward went to sleep again, wlien the same vision was repeated. This was done the tliird time in less than two hours ; and I could not help regarding it as a warning divinely sent. Well did I note the day, and often did I count tliC months and weeks that I had yet to live. It was the 0th day of September, 1810; and I felt as sure that I should die on the Gth day of September, 1813, as ever did a criminal condemned to death.
Jt may well be supposed that these things had a depressing ell'ect upon my usually light and buoyant .•spirits; and in truth, I soon became sensible of a loss uf strength, and an unnsual pallor began to steal over my face. 1 heard father ask mother the ques- tion, *'AVhat ails Suky?" more than once, with a voice expressive of much solicitude.
Tiie great object now was to prepare to meet my fito. I attended preaching as often as I could, which was only once or twice a month, and cLcvotcd evrry opportunity to reading the Xew Testament — all the book I had in the world, and all I desired. <' how eagerly I listened .to every word that the minister uttered, and how devotedly I ai>plicd myself to tr<jasure up and to understand the words of JFoly
36 KECOLLECTIONS OF"^
Writ ! Still the way of salvation seemed a mystery, and still I walked in utter darkness. A hundred times a day I sent up the petition of the convicted publican ; and every day, as nearly at a certain hour as I could, I repaired to the foot of a little plum-tree, which stood in a low and retired nook in the orchard, and there, with many a sob of heart-felt penitence, I poured out my soul before the Lord. I think he often blessed me, for ol'ten there came a peaceful serenity over my soul that made me love the spot; and so regularly did I visit the sacred resort, that I beat across the orchard a path that remained for many a day.
One day I had been out to pray, and my sky was overcast and gloomy. I hardly knew what religion really was, and I almost despaired of obtaining the blessing. Thoughtful and dejected, I was returning to the house; l)ut just as I reachud the gate, and was about to enter the yard, this thought struck me with wonderful force: "Jesus died for sinners, and lie died for me!" In a moment my gloom was gone-, and my mind and heart were tilled with the thought, "lie died for hid'' In my joy I turned and ran all the way back to the hallowed tree, as if God were there, to give free vent to my joyous feel- ings. Here I spent some time in praising God. I then skirted home, resolved to tell mother, if not the whole family; but the devil wliispercd, "Be sure you're not mistaken, bci'oro you tell too much." So I put oil" saying any thing about it fur the present.
I liked the Methodists, probably because I was
THR REV. JOnX JOHNSON. • 37
coiivicled under their ministry; and I borrowed a Discipline, and carefully studied their rules. -My judgment and my lieart approved them. John 1'ravi.s, the preaclier in charge, a holy and zealous man, held a meeting near us about twelve months nfter my first setting out to seek salvation; and be- fore closing the meeting, he opened the doors of the Clmrcli. I felt a desire to join, but the devil told me It was all a foolish notion. Something seemed to Kay, *' Quench not the Spirit;" and I felt as if the Spirit would leave me for ever if I resisted his fitnvings now. My parents were present, and I re- Bolved to ask them. I went to father; he sat with his hat on, of course, and torrents of tears welling from his eyes. After a little hesitation, I saicl^ " Father, 1 ibel a desire to join the Church : I am not excited, but I wish to save my soul: I would not join without knowing if you have any ohjeetion." He answered, ^'Do as thee pleases, .^uky." J then started to ask mother, who sat near; but she anticipated tlie request by saying, "Go, my child, with all my heart, go on!" This \vas in the autumn of 1811.
Solemn reflections now filled my mind. The youngest but one of nine children, a member of the Church, and not one brother or sister a professor of religion ! Ah, how circumspectly I must live to Jivoid dishonoring my profession and the Church, and to keep from being led away by so many adverse Jiilluences!
I^oubts, however, still haunted me until the fol- lowing spring, when James Axlcy preached at a
38 RECOLLECTION.^ OF
prcacbing-placc not far from old Mr. Cartwrigiit's. As I went, a young man rode up and asked for my company. "Ko," said I; "I wisli for no company: I wisli to pray all the way ; " and so I did. Axley preached on the "cloud of witnesses." How it comforted my licart to licar him describe, as hardly any other man could, the different modes in which conversion is witnessed to the soul ! I became sat- isfied with regard to my own conversion — so fully so, that though nearly sixty years liave elapsed, I never doubted again.
Of Axley I may say a few words, expecting to say more hereafter. lie was rather a young man at this time, but exceedingly grave in his demeanor. He was large, rather tall, slightly inclined to a rotund j appearance, quite handsome; and every word and i gesture was slow, and replete with dignity. lie j usually began his sermons with natural strokes, j which were generally mistaken for liumor, and sel- i dom failed to excite his hearers to laughter. But j before he had spoken long, his deep, sonorous voice j became exceedingly impressive; and the wecpino- ' was as universal and as irresistible as the laughter had been at first.
My younger sister, Rebecca, persecuted me very much. The Methodists were few in number, and very generally despised. I loved to attend class- meeting ; but there was none near enough for me to go alone, and I could hardly ask any of" my uncon- verted brothers or sisters to go with me. Kebecca would snceringly say, "I would not go to class- meeting; nob(Kly will be there but ] 'age's girls and
THE KEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 89
I'liiiiiy AVhitc." But Brollicr Davitl was very kind; and when my sister altiickcd me, he would say, •* JJocky, don't talk so; I'll go with you, Suky, if you want to .t^'O." Father, too, would sometimes go witli me. "When the time lor class-meeting was at hand, if he observed me dejected and sad, he would Kay, •' Suky, does thee want to go ? " Then I knew the way was clear, and 0 how light my heart felt! A[ length, Quaker as he was, he would Fometimes li-f just before the meeting was closed, and state his feelings, etc., like the rest.
Thus I struggled on, and for about three 3'ears my pky was almost perfectly cloudless. The three years, at the end of which I expected to die, passed away; the Gth of September came, and it brought o!jc of the most terrific .storms I ever saw ; but I felt prepared for death, and was as happy as a mortal rould be from morning till night. In fact, it was almost a disappointment, when the day was gone, that my — long-cherished, shall I say? — expectations liad not been realized.
40 KECOLLECTIONS OF
CHAPTER, VI.
MR. Johnson's tarentage and nativity.
I MUST now give some account of my husband, liis piircntage, education, and experiences, before liis and mine became one common lot.
Benjamin Jolinson was the son of an Englisliman who came to ^Maryland from Stailbrdshire, at an early day. It is possible his family was related to that of Dr. Sanmel Johnson, of the same county — I know nothing about it. Benjamin Johnson settled )!t Hanover county, Va., and there resided till bis death. lie left two sons and two daughters. Of one son and one daughter I can give no account. Tli«! other daughter married a "Wheeler; the other f^on was named John, and he M-as the father of my husband. This John Johnson married Hannah Medloek, by whom he had three children — Molly, AVilliam, and Benjamin. Of these, Molly was mar- licd to Cosby Foster, AVilliam to Betsey Golden, and lioiijamin died in youth. The mother of these chil- dren died while they were yet small, and Mr. John- si)n iiiarricd a widow, Betsey Tyler. This lady's lir.-t husband was named John Tyler — great-uuclc, I believe, to the Vice-president ; and she was also the m<)ther of tluee children — Xancy, Polly, and
THK KEY. jonx JOIIXSO>r. 41
.Tolin. Of these Tyler cliilclron, ."NTaiicy inarricd Jolm Badgel, Polly maiTJcd John Xearscy, and John married Milly Stone.
By this second marriage, John Johnson, Sr., liad four children— J^ewis, James, Betsey, and John. Lewis married a ^^^do^v lady, Franky "Winn, ^vho Mas the mother of two children: Polly, who mar- ried a Ward; and Cozey, vrho married a Tinslcy; and hoth of whom lived and died in the South. James married Clarir^sa ]\iaxcy, and Betsey married Ivcv. Kichard ^Moore, v.dio lived for many years at Paris, Tenn. t John Foster, my husband's raaternai grandfatlier,
was also a Virginian, and married a Scotch lady by the nan)e of Graves. Their children were John, AViliiam, Edmund, James, Anthony, Sabry, Fanny, and Betsey. The elder John Foster's brothers wei e wealthy ; they removed to K'orth Carolina, and frou) one of them Ephraim II. Foster, of Tennessee, was de>c«;'nded. John Foster himself, and most of his children, died in Virginia. Ue lived to the age of C'lghty-nme. His youngest daughter, Betsey, was married to John Tyler, as above stated, and after- ward to John Johnson.
Indulge me, before I close this chapter, in a hasty notice of my husband's brothers and sisters, and of my own.
Lewis Johnson and James removed to Illinois in ISIG-IT. Lewis brought up riine children, tlirec f'ons and six daughters, and died in Jeflorson t^ounty, in ISoG, at the age of eighty-one. James had fifteen children, some of whom died in youth,
42 nrx'OLLKCTioxs of
BGVcn sons and eight daug-lilors, and died in Jeffer- son county, in IS'JO, ngcd eighty-two. Jk'lscy Moore liad one son, who died in yontli; and she died at Paris, Tcnn., in 1855, aged seventy-live. ^My sister, Tabitha Pemberlon, had four children, three sona and a daughter, and died at Fredonin, Ky., aged forty-eiglit. Thomas married Franky Bond, had eleven children, seven sons rnd four daughters, and died near St. Joseph, Mo., aged eighty-four. Elijah married Elizabeth Young, also had eleven cliildrcn', seven sons and four daughters, and died in wliat is now Lyon county, Ky., aged sixty. Jesse married Celia Johnson, had four sons, who died in child- hood; and he died in Lyon count}-, Ky., in 182G, aged about forty-five. Polly married James Mercer, had tlnec children, two sons and a daughter, and died at Fredonia, Ky., in 1850, aged sixty. Eliza- beth married Thomas Gordon, had eight children, five sons and three daughters, and still lives in Mis- souri, aged seventy-six. David and Kebecca were never married. Kebecca died at Fredonia, in 1852, aged fifty-one; and David still lives there, at the age of eighty-two.
Here a$;ain occurs the remarkable fact that amono- the tliirty-six persons named in this chapter, not one, except Ephraim IL Foster, possessed a "double" name. The grandchiklren of my father and John Johnson, Sr., amount to about eighty souls. It is also worthy of note, tliat most of them lived to an advanced age. I will also add that a large propor- tion were tall in person, James Johnson being six feet and three inches, and my own four brothers
THE HEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 43
ranging IVom six foct one inch to six feet seven inc'lics.
My liusbfind was born in Louisa county, Ya., forty miles from Richmond, on the 7th day of Jan- uary, 1783.
44 KECOLLECTIONS OF
CliArTEU VII.
MR. JOHNSON'S EDUCATION — KJIMOVAL TO TENNESSEE.
John Johnson, Sr., was tlic owner of a small i farm, raised an abundance for his family, and was surrounded hy tlie comforts and conveniences of life. But he died on tlie 1st day of March, just seven weeks after his youngest son, John, Avas born. The entire management of three sets of children, { ten in all, and of the farm, now devolved npon the j widow. The elder children l)eiug grown, tlioy soon ' married, and the farm was sold in order to allow them their respective shares of the estate. Mrs. : Johnson was thus left with diminished resonrcos, and was under the necessity of renting land; and in that section no land was for rent but such as was of inferior quality. In spite of tlie niost strenuous exertions and the most rigid economy, her means slipped rapidly away, and John, even in his child- liood, became acquainted with poverty and destitu- tion.
Tlic elder children had been sent to school, and
had learned to read and write; but long before
I John was old enough to attend school, his mother
I was so straitened, even to live, that she could neither
THE KEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 45
ppnro a cliild from lal)or, nor pay for bis tuition. ]ii fact, lie never was the owner of a hat or a coat, a pair of pants, boots, or sliocs, till he was more than ten year3 old. A long, coarse shirt was the only garment he ever wore, in winter or in summer. "With nothing about his body but this, he labored assiduously about the cabin and little patch of ground. Often in winter, when tlic sni)\v was frozen so as to bear his weight, he wouhl go out to hunt for rabbits, which was more a necessity than a diversion; and as he ran, his naked feet would rip up from the ice with a noise that might be heard for many yards. When he could bear the cold no longer, he would mount a fence, rub his feet for a minute, and dash away again.
Mrs. Johnson hired out her two older boys — for the two elder sets of children were all mariied now — and routed ;i miserable cabin and a few acres of ground upon a hillside, which was so poor and so steep that the owner did not care to cultivate it; and here she lived with her little girl and boy, in utter poverty. Louisa county was so well stocked with slaves, that her boys could earn only a triilo, and phe had scarcely resources f^uilicient to have raised a support from the most exuberant soil. She had hoes and baskets, but no other agricultural im- plements or conveniences whatever. She and her children made hills with the hoes, to plant their f"ru in the spring; they tended it altogether with hoes, nnd in the full they gathered the crop in b:is- Kots. Corn-l)read of the plainest (piality, and V'aier, with sometimes a few beans, peas, or pota-
<16 RKCOLLECTIOXS OF
toes, and about once a luoiith a small bit of meat, fonnecl the diet upon which they subsisted.
Jolm, thoug-h nntui-allv vigorous, became at lenirth by the combined influence of exposure and destitu- tion, extremely slender and frail, and was so bowed, as he walked feebly around with his hands crossed behind him, that he got the nickname of "Old .limmy Anthony," from his real or fancied resem- bhance to an old man who lived in the vicinity. r>ut the older boys bc^i:;in to apjwoach manhood, and they were so sober and industrious that thej- readily obtained situations as overseers, at ])rctty good salaries. Lewis at length married the AVidow Winn, who liad some little j.roperty— very little— and resolved to remove to Tennessee, as most of his half-brothers and sisters liad' already done. James liad laid up enough, by a cou^jIc of years of strict economy, to buy a half-grown yoke of oxen and a cart; and with those facilities, they were not lone getting ready to move. This was,* I think, in the autumn of ISOo.
A journey of six hundred miles was no small un- dertaking for persons of such limited means. They could drive their team for only a part of the day as they were obliged to let them graze and rest for the remainder. Especially at the numntains vras it dif- licult for them to proceed, and indued they almost failed entirely to mak.' the steej) ascent. But after eight Weeks of slow and toilsome travel, thev reached ►Sumner county, Tenn., and located about four miles from Gallatin, on land belonging to old *^<piire i)()Uf.'-las.
^^
Tin: lli:V. 'jOIIN JOHNSON. 47
Here Ihcy soon began to be a little more coniibit- ably situated. But it was not long till James and Uctiscy mnrriod, and John and his mother \vcrc left alone. John rapidly improved in strength, how- ever, and by a little lielp from his friends, was making a support.
He now resolved to learn to read, as he was of lawful age; but his mother's sight liad failed so much she could render iiim no assistance. Con- scious of his ignorance and poverty, he was ashamed, or at least unwilling, to call upon his neighbors for aid. But Mr. Douglas had an old negro man, who lived in a cabin near by, and this negro knew the alphabet, but could go no farther. To liim John applied for help. He resorted to his cabin night after night, and* with no other light than that of the fire, they pored over an old piece of a spelling-book which the negro owned, till the alplia- bet was completely mastered.
There was still a wide gap between this and being able to read ; but he had learned several hymr.s "by heart" from hearing them sung; so he would liave some one show him a hymn that he knew, in a jiiccc of an old hymn-book — all that he had — and he would sometimes cit up till midnight trying to decipher the words and learn to spell, with no light but that of a fire. Yet he progressed so well that in two or three months he could ''make out" any hymn in liis book by going over it two or three tinie.-, and in six months he could read in the Xew Testament so as to be understood tolerably well. l'\>r learning to write he had two copies. Each
*
- ^
^^ IIKCOLLECTIOXS OF
one was a son-bullad, Avrittcn by some of liig incnds. Thcac ballads lie copied, or tried to copy time after time, and until tlicy were absolutely worn into shreds. By continued cultivation he improved the start thus obtained, till he wrote a pretty r^ood plain hand. i J ^
TIIK Kl-V. JOHN JOHNSON. 49
CITAPTER VI.TI.
MU. JOHNSON'S CONVKUSIOX AND CALL TO IT.KACH.
Mns. Johnson was a deeply pious woman. In hotter days slie liad been a member of the rre.-,by- tcrian Churdi; but as this Cliurch then, as now, jtossesscd sometliing of an aristocratic taint, she did not venture to chiim her membership after she began to know "tlic woes of want." After the death of licr Ininhand, slie kept up family worship regularly, till her sight failed so that she was no longer able to read. Her children, for many years, were noted for tlioir blameless morals, and their correct behavior. I hit wlicn Lewis and James began to hire out, and especially after they began to follow overseeing, they became in a great degree wild and reckless. And ^vhc^ James returned home to live with his moilier, John, too, was led far away into evil practices. I may mention, as showing at once their industry and strength to labor, and their eagerness in the pursuit of I'leasure, that James aud John would sometimes fut and split five hundred rails in a day, and then ^valk four miles to dance all night.
J hit after a time a series of jirayer-meetings wore I'^'Id in the neighborhood, and John attended. It ^vas not long before he was struck down under pow-
50 iii:coiJ,i;cTiON.s of
crful couvielion. Jlo ^vas for several doys inces- santly ongagcu in incditalion and prayer, and in making earnest inqniiios after the Avay of life. lie spent u week or more in this state of fear. and anguish ; and then, at one of those prayer-nicetings, in the same little sehool-house, lie Avas powerfully converted. His shouts — for he had a voice like a lion — made the old cabin literally quake; and as he hegan to exhort, the i)ious raised a long and general shout, and every sinner present trend)lcd.
lie couKl hardly wait till "morning to go to his .r>rothcr Lewis's, and tell him the good news. The way of salvation apjieared to hini so i»lain, he thought he could make it equally clear to anybody else ; and he was so astonished at its simplicity that he could hardly think or speak on any other theme. Daylight found him on his way to Lewis's. AVhen he arrived, he began to talk about religion; and Lewis, who had lelt pungent conviction, but con- cealed it, soon began to weep and pray in earnest. John sang, and prayed, and talked by turns, till Lewis's wife began to weep, and juay, and cry aloud for mercy. This little prayer-meeting was kept up until about noon, when ]je\\is, and soon afterward his v.-ife, received the ble.^sing.
When they all met at the pvayer-mceting the en- suing night, John thought it would be a good thing, before meeting began, to tell what the Lord liad done fur thciu dui iiig the day, Lut hi-^ iVeling-;, and those of all }>re>ent, rose as he proceedt.'<l ; and be- fore he had finished the story, one shout after an- other was raised, and one sinner after anotlu'r can^e
TJIE llEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 61
to UiG iiKar for prayer. .TIius, as lie cxprcsseil it, " tlii'j (li.l ii't get to open tlie meeting at all." lie, liowcvcr, cxhortcil, autl bun_u-, and prayeil ; the meet- ing Avcnt gloriously on ; and from that time forward, ])y common consent, he hecamc the leader of the meetings.
lie soon became convinced that it was his duty to j ]»roach. But he Avas just beginning to learn to
read ; and to read a chapter of Holy Writ without liaving studied it, Avas more than he could do. Yet he announced that ho would hold meetings at such and such places in adjoining neighborhoods, trust- ing that the Lord would assist his weakness. Though conii)ellcd to labor by day, he would study his chaj)- tcr and hymn by fire-light of nights, and zealously apply himself to perform his work in the best man- ner of which he was capable. An old acquaintance said, '*lt was absolutely painful to hear him trying to road, but he talked so carnestl\-, we loved to hear him talk."
John had not once thought of wanting any license to exhort, or even to preach, except the licoiise that lie already had from on high. But when told by tlie preacher in charge, the afterward widely known dat-ob Young, that he was acting irregularly, he a-^sentcd with tears; and without waiting to be •iskcd, the Quarterly Conference gave him a license to exhort. In this capacity he continued to exer- ••i>e his gifts and graces in his own and the adjoin- '"i; neighborhoods for about six months, when the ''residing Elder, Jacob Young, appointed him as junior preacher on the circuit. He was immcdiatclv
52 KEGOLLECriO^'S OF
•; liccuscd to preach. And now, to cut liimsclf loose j entirely from tlic \vorM, ho handed over to his [ brother-in-law, John T-adget, for the support of liis mother, all the little he had of this world's i goods, except a horse, saddle, and bridle, and I gave himself up fully to the work. He also wrote and assumed a "Vow of Consecration," ex- ceedingly severe and solemn in its injunctions, though I believe he never faltered in their strict and sacred observance.
The reader will bear in mind that circuits in those , days were rather larger than districts u;uially are at I present, and one day in four weeks was about as I much time as the preacher could spend in any vicin- { ity. Hence, those prayer-meetings were conducted j by the laity; and hence Mr. Johnson had almost, J as the plirasc is, "got under full headway" before j he encountered the preacher in charge. { It was in August, 1807, that he was converted ;
i and at Jacob Young's lirst ap})ointment following-, I in that vicinity, he and his mother, Lewis and Franky, and a considerable number besides, were received into the Church.
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. .«•. 63
ClIAPTKll IX.
MK. JOILW^ON OX noCKJIOcKlXG CIIICUIT, IN OHIO.
' In October, 1808, Mr. Jolnison aUendcd his first
Conference. The old AVcstern Confcreuco held its j session at Liberty Hill, Cumberland county, Tcnn.,
[ and Bishop Asburj presided. Mr. Johnson Avas
! admitted on trial, and appointed to the Ilockhock-
ing Circuit, in Ohio. ^Tohn Sale M-as his Pre.^idincr Kider, and Benjamin Sale his co-laborer in the work.
Ho rnudo a brief visit to his mother and fricnd:S n!id liastened to his new field of labor. It Avas .a long and somewhat perilous journey for a solitary traveler on horseback, l>om Middle Tennessee across the State of Jventucky, nearly to Central Ohio. The journey was so long, the task of assum- ing the responsibility of a charge appeared so great, a vague apprehension that the labors of a^'poor young man from Tennessee would ellcct notljim^ in H country so far away, and among people so dillcr- cnt from those he liad known before, pressed so heavily upon him, and he was so straitened f.r means to defray his CNpensos, that it required all his indom- itable resolution to m.-iko the start. Yet he delayed »'-ot a day nor an liour beyond his appointed time,
54 ^ RKCOLLECTIONS OF
.'ind no mortal llicii knew that lie folt any mi-sgivings ■ about it.
I Patiently, prayerfully, tliouglitfully ho traveled
j , on ; never stopping at noon, because he -svas not able to bear the expense; and frequently compelled to start very early, and ride very hard, to reach the houses of brethren to wliom he liad been directed, as he could only afford to pay a hotel-bill in case of great emergency. On more occasions than one he ' failed to reach a lodging-place before he was over- taken by the darkness of night. In a strange land, with roads but dimly marked, he had no resort, i fatigued and hungry as lie was, but to hobble his j liorse, throw down his saddle-blanket for a bed, take I his saddle or saddle-bags for a jiillow, commend his ! soul to God, and lie down in the dark and lonely ! woods to sleep.
j lie crossed the Ohio at Cincinnati, which he said
' seemed to be a little town of some trade, as several flat-boats lay near the lauding; the old liorse ferry- boat crossed the river many times in the coaroc of the day, and there were a great many wagons from the country passing up and down the street. The liouses, too, somewhat scattering, made the town look as if, in some places, it reached almost out to the bluffs. Here he took the road to Chillicothe, passed that village, and arrivid at his destination without accident, lie found his circuit to be one which I'fomiscd little else but toil. 1 think there were circuits on the east including Marietta and Zauesville; on the south, including Gallipolis, and on the west, includinir Chillicothe ; whilst to the
THK KEV. JOHN JOllXSON. ^ 65
iiortli and iiorlli-wost liis bounds were, as lie ex- pressed it, "as far out as lie could iind anybody." Tlic settlements were widely scattered, and the roads were generall}' nothing but trails, suited far better for the pedestrian than for any other traveler.
One dark and misty eveni)ig- iu April, as he was trying to wind liis way along one of these trails, lie lost his wa}', and the darkness of an exceedingly dark night overtook him. Hoping that the instinct. of his horse might extricate him from his perplexing condition, he urged the faithful animal along. Ever and anon the scream of a panther or a wild-cat startled him, or the wolf's long howl chimed in to make the dismal night more dismal still. Suddenly his horse stopped, aijd stubbornly refused to pro- ceed, j^fr. John^^on, satisfied that his course was toward a settlement, gave him a sharp blow with his switch, when the horse "gathered himself uji," and made a desperate leap; for ho had stoi)pcd on the brink of a ravine about fifteen feet across. His fore-feet caught on the opposite bank, but the bank gave way, and horse and rider fell back some twelve feet into the ravine below.
Mr. Johnson was soon on his feet, and by groping around in the dark, succeeded in recovering his hat and saddle-bags; but his horse was gone, and it was too dark to see him, even when he was seated on his back. If he was perplexed before, he was nt»w dismayed. Presently he heard him snort at a little distance; and after two or Ihrec times faliiiig head- long into the little stream tl:at ran down the ravine, and falling twice as ofien on the steep l)ank and
[ -^
f
i 50 .;,, Recollections of
'I the slippery stones, lie regained the level, gTopod along through the bushes, found his horse, and in a t few minutes was in the saddle; but wet, cold, hun- ! gry, weary, and confused.
j lie said to himself, "Well, where am I?" The } response came to him, as of an audible voice,
"I'm marchiiif]; tliroiijli Iminanucl's ground, To fairer ■worlds on liiglil"
He began and sung this triumphant old hymn entirely through, when his heart became so filled with "peace and joy- in the Holy Ghost," that he made the gloomy old forest reverberate with shouts of "Glory to God!" To his surprise, he heard a voice, lie listened, and distinctly heard the words, ""Who's that?" lie answered, "A poor traveler, who has lost his way." A few steps now brought him in sight of a large camp-fire, of which, if not so happy, lie might have seen the light before ; and in a few minutes he was warming and drying him- self before the fire, surrounded by a rough but sympathizing band of hunters. It will readily be supposed that the hunger of himself and horse was soon satisfied.
He now began to relate his adventure ; but his feelings grew warm, his soul became happy, and he closed with an earnest exhortation and joyful ex- clamations of praise. He then sang one of those wild and stirring melodies known only to the "West, knelt down, and poured forth the thanks, the praises, and the ardent longings of a pious heart. More than one of the hunters were struck with pun-
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. ^J
gent conviction; and tlio unlooked-for encounter was converted into a prayer-meeting, which lasted till long- after midnight, and resulted in the conver- sion of three precious souls. One of these afterward became a local preacher in the Methodist Church. Of course he was fnrn* hed with a guide next morn- ing, who readily put him again on his way.
Of his particular ]ul)ors and ha^xlships on this work little account now remains, except the record written on high. lie usually preached about thirty- five times a month, and his preaching-places were from (en to forty miles apart; and hence, in making a round, he had to ride about four hundred miles*! He read as he rode along— read while his congrega- tion was coming in— read as he waited for his meals, and read to a late hour every night, though lie had to read by the light of a fire, or^he unusual Inxury of a pine-knot stuck in a crack of the jamb.
r
68 ilKCOLl.ECTIONS OF
C]1A]'TE]1 X.
MR. JOIINSOX OX WIlITi; OAK CIllCLIT, IN OHIO.
The next session of tlic AW>stoni Conference was ! liekl at Cincinnati, r)is]iop Asburj presiding; and j Mr. Johnson ^vas sent to White Oak Circuit, in Oliio. This was about as much a wiklerne^s as liis cliargo I tlie preceding year. It inchided nearly all the coun- i try lying upon the waters of AVhite Oak Creek, in what is now ]>rown county, cuihraciu!;- all of tliis, ' and parts of adjoining counties.
One incident may serve to illustrate at once his zeal, and the diflicultics under which both minister and members labored. It was in October, I think, that he entered upon liis work. At one appoint- ment— a rude hut in the woods called a meetin<i-- house — by some mistake his intention to preach had not been duly anriounced. He started before day, and rodo about t\vent3'-fivo miles to reach the place. lie waited till after the hour, and nobody came. At last, as he was about to despair of having a congre- gation, and depart, ho saw a woman coming, carry- ing a child in her arms — or rather, as the custom was, when a child v/as two or three years old, u^^on her liip, with its feet astride. She came in and sat down. lie looked at her; she seemed weary and
THE RKV. JOHN JOIIN?OX. 50
8ail. lie. tliou^^ht of ])ivacliiiig; but no one else cnnie, and Lis solitary auditor was evidently poor, as Jicr dresd, though clean, was faded and worn. She looked downcast and disappointed, as if she divined at once that there would be no service.
At length he said to himself, "I came liere to
preach, and by tlie help of God I'll do it!" lie
did. His soul grew ha]i})y ; the poor woman's heart
rejoiced, and she shouted the praises of God aloud ;
and as he used to say, " There was one universal
shout all over the congregation." lie bade her
good-bye, with u word of exliortation ; and as she
went away, trudging along the path by which she
( came, he could hear her every few stt'pci, in a low
: voice, but one full of emotion, say, " Glory ! " The
next time he came around, the little cabin was filled
v' to overflowing; and on expressing his surprise at
the fact, after sermon, he found that the woman had
given a glowing account of the previous meeting,
wliicli had drawn out the whole settlement. And
• he \va.> still more surprised when told that the woman,
• at his first appointment, liad walked and carried her child ten miles on that occasion, as her liusband per- secuted lier, and would not allow her to ride his
\ horse to meeting. AVliat a sad disappointment would
ttiiat have been had Mr. Johnson failed to preach ! f l^>ut the eflect of this sermon to a single hearer 5 Rtojipcd not here. AVhen she returned home, lier
j hushand growled out, ''AVell, what kind of a
l'>i>l did you have to]ireach out yonder to-day ? " She mildlyanswered, "Ilewasastrange-lookingman,but I iievcr heard a man talk like he did in mv life."
GO RECOLLECTIONS OP
Ilis curiosity was a little excited, and lie asked, *' Why, what did he look like?" "lie was a stout sort of a man, with very dark foce,and his hair was very black, and about half a yard long. I was afraid to look at him, he looked so solemn." " The d — 1 ! " grunted he ; " and what did lie talk like ? " >' Well, I don't know : he talked just like heaven and earth were coming together! " The man, whose name I believe was Baker, did not deign to make any re- marks, but wondered in himself what kind of a man and what kind of talking that could be. In a few days he found that the curiosity to hear the new preacher was common ; and before the next preach- ing-day came round, he had made up his mind to
" turn out with all the rest of the fools."
To the utter astonishment of Mrs. Baker, her husband told her to ride to meeting; he Avas going " to see and hear the old cuss," but he would walk. So he was one of the croAvd that filled the little cabin when Mr. Johnson came on the second time. lie was deeply convicted, but concealed his emo- tions till he got away from the crowd. He then frankly told his wife tliat she was right, and he was wrong. She knew not what to say to this, and said nothing, lie walked on about a mile in silence, and then said, '' Wife, there's something the matter with me!" She answered kindly, "What do you think it is, Mr. Baker ? " " Dogged if I know ; but I'm sick — heart-sick." "Get up and ride," said she, "a)ul I'll walk.' "Xo," said he; and ho walked more rapidly and uneasily along. Xo more was said about it; and ATrs. Baker thoui^lit the
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. 61
<' sick brasli " had passed of>'. But after supper, he went out to feed his horse, and was gone rather long: she went to the door as it grew dark, and was greatly ahirmed to hear cries and groans of distress at the stable. She flew to the spot, and there was the hardened persecutor upon his knees, pleading in deepest agon}^ for mercy. The " sick brash" had not passed otf! She slioutcd a while, and then l)rayed a while, then tried to instruct him in the way of salvation ; and after a terrible struggle of two or three lioui's, he was enabled to embrace Christ as his Saviour, and raised a shout that made the hills around ring again. The devout but some- what exaggerating wife declared that "ho raised a shout that was enough to wake the dead."
From this event there sprang up a glorious revival of religion ; and Methodism was planted on so firm a basis licre, that it has always since been the ruling faith in all that section of country. Baker's house became a preaching-place, a class was organized tliere, Baker was appointed leader, and faithfully and zealously did he act up to his profession down to the day of his death. So it may be safe to say, tliat that sermon to but one hearer was productive of more fruit than any other twenty sermons that Mr. Johnson preached during his ministry on this circuit.
62 llECOLLECTIONS OF
I CHAPTER XI.
MR. JOHNSON ON BIG FANDY CIRCUIT.
At the session of the AVcsteni Conference, held I at New Chapel, Shelby county, Kentneky, ISTovera- : her, 1810, Mr. Johnson was ordained a deacon by I Bishop Asbury, and appointed to Sandy River, or i Big Sandy Circuit. This circuit embraced a very ; rugged country on both sides of the Big Sandy, and I think it included most of what are now Greenup, ! Carter, Lawrence, and Johnson counties, in Iven- I tucky; and AVayne county, in Virginia. And as I his preaching-places were separated by the Big i Sand}" and many smaller streams, he had to ferry or swim, or else cross at deep fords, one stream or an- other, seventeen times in every round upon the circuit, or about every other day. The streams were generally pretty deep, too, and ferries not very [ abundant; so he had to swim about two hundred [ times in the course of the year. ; His expenses were small, as it was very necessarj^
! they should be, being chieHy confined to the jour- ; ncy roipurod to attend Conference and reach liis I work. His clothing was homespun, of the cheapest j and most substantial kind; and be wore it just as I long as it "would at all answer the purpose. Jean
THE llEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 63
or liiiscy iu winter, or tow in summer, was his acciis- tonicd garb. I copy the following from his ]\Icm- orandum-book for 1810-11 : " Expenses for the years lSlO-11 :— Ferriage Kentucky Pvivcr, 12-?r cents ; en- terlainment, 37i- cents; entertainment, 50 cents." These seem to have been the only instances in which pay was exacted of him for ferriage or lodging.
And the contributions from the circuit were cer-' tainly in proportion to his expenses rather than to liis labors, as the following memorandum will show: "Keccived on Sandy River Circuit: — First quarter, 84 25 ; second quarter, $G 87^- ; third quarter, ,^10 GO, (80 in trade, §13 GO in money:) last quarter, $23 G2^-. Tlic whole amount, §54 35 — §43 in mone}^, the rest trade or clothing." This, h.owever, show^a a great and progressive improvement from the first quarter to the last.
By this time Mr. Johnson had become a good reader, had corrected most of his harsh and ungram- niatical plirases, and had stored his mind Avith a groat many passages from Young, Blair, Pope, and Cowpor, wliich he quoted with line efl'ect. He had a little volume of "Select Poems," and had com- mitted to memory nearly all of Young's "Day of Judgment," Blair's "Grave," and Pope's "Essay on Man." His proficiency in his regular course of Ptudies, also, was a matter of general remark. Be- sides all this, he was so devotedly pious, and so full of zeal, that his preaching was "in demonstration of the Spirit and of power."
Toward the close of his labors on this circuit, he procured the services of a young licentiate for two
Qi RECOLLECTIONS OE
or three weeks, and went over into Virginia to attend a camp-raeeting held perhaps not far from Barboursville. He thought it would be a means of improvement to hear the educated preachers of the Old Dominion, and he hoped to have his spiritual strenj^tli renewed: he might assist in the labors at the altar, if need be ; but he had little expectation that he would be called upon to preach. It never once occurred to him, however, that there was any thing peculiar about his dress, or that that would influence his reception there. He wore a full suit of the coarsest cpiality of tow; and this, by a dozen wettings in the rain, and twice as many in the Big Sandy and its tributaries, had been brought to a dingy hue which it is easier to imagine than to name. He wore a broad-brimmed white wool hat, which he had worn every day since his conversion in 1807— four years. His shoes were just such as the people of Virginia usually bought for their negroes; his pants were pinned over perfectly tight at the ankles ; and his hair, parted in the middle, hung down loose and long around his shoulders. His very dark complexion, and liis long, jet-black hair, were in striking contrast with the dingy white of his dress.
Some inquisitive person about the camp where he lodo-ed, had managed to find out his vocation, and it was soon noised around that the strange-looking man was a prcaclicr. The niiuistcrs were very much perplexed when they hoard it; for it would not do to slight a brother, nor would it by any means do to put him np to preach. They, however, agreed to
THE REV. JOHN JOHKSON. C5
FC'iul one of their number to Avait on liim with an apology. He came to Mr. Johnson and said, "My friend, I understand that you are a Methodist preaclier." "I am, and a poor one at tliat," was the response. " Well, the people of this vicinity are proud and aristocratic," our apologist proceeded ; *'aud we are afraid that if we have you to preach, for us, they will take offense on account of your dress and appearance, and harm may in some way he tlie result. Be assured that it grieves us to man- ifest even the appearance of disrespect for one of our brethren. We entreat you, therefore, to take no offense at our not inviting you to preach." "I shall take no ofiense, brother," Mr. Johnson meekly replied; "I came not to preach, but in some hum- ble way to do and to get good. Go on with your meeting, and suffer no uneasiness on ray account." They did "go on with their meeting." Sabbatli came, and wore away ; and still all was cold, formal, and lifeless. Not a shout nor a groan had been lioard — except now and then a half-audible groan from Mr. Johnson a little distance in rear of the stand — not a mourner answered to the calls and en- treaties of the minister. Monday morning came. The crowd mostly dispersed, and all was bustle and activity on the part of the camp-holders, packing up their goods, and hastening to get away. The preachers had a little unfinished business to attend f to, and they thought that, as it could now do no
I liarm, Mr. Johnson might preach at 11 o'clock,
I while they completed their business; and tliey
I retired to the most distant camp on the ground, that
I 3
■QQ '-'■ RECOLLECTIONS OF
•i tliey might escaiDC the mortilication of witnessing j Ins eftbi't. It was bad enough for such a man to j x^reach, and too bad for them to have both to hear I the sermon and to sec how the people treated a i strange brother.
j At the appointed hour the horn sounded, and Mr.
i Jolmson came solemnly and slowly along to the
i pulpit. He had spent an hour in the grove in
j prayer, and came with a broken, an humbled, and
an overflowing heart. There were sitting listlessly
under the vast " shed," a woman, three men, and
three or four boys. IsTot disheartened, but strong in
I faith, he began the song,
j *' Come, ye sinners, poor and need}-,"
[-. and liis stentorian voice made the forest ring. He I sang with such spirit and power that many paused i a moment to listen ; and one after another joined ! the little assembly. He read, sang, and prayed ; ! and there was something in his prayer wdiich
silenced in a great measure the confusion that had reigned around, and threw a deep solemnity over the place.
By the time the prcacliers had concluded their business, Mr. Johnson was more than half through liis subject, and liis feelings and his voice were fast rising to the highest pitch. His voice became dis- tinctly audible even to the ministers, and they began to listen and to catch his "w^ords. Finding lie was not " murdering the king's English," as they had feared he would, they ventured to step outside their tent; and, behold, the bustle of preparation to leave
\.
TJIli llEV. JOJIN JOUNfclOX. ^*^ V,7*"
luid ceased, and every soul on the camp-ground was i;-atliered into the congregation ! Mr. Jolnison was dwelling upon the consolations of religion. Soon an old sister raised a shout of jov. The eiix3ct was electric. It added a large drop to many a brim- ming cup ; and more than twenty voices joined the shout at once. Our fugitive preachers crept stealth- '^ ilyto the "shed," glided almost involuntarily down '" the aisle to seats in the altar, where they sat with heads thrown back and streaming eyes, one excita- ble fellow among them ever and anon laughing out, "Oh, ho-ho-ho-ho, glory ! "
^ Mr. Johnson now turned to the contrast, the ter- rible doom of the wicked; and in a few minutes groans and screams were everywhere mino-led with the praises, till tlie uproar would have ^drowned •almost any other human voice but his. Ho now gave the usual invitation to mourners, and de- Been.led from the stand. The ministers rushed for- Avard to meet him, implored his pardon, embraced him convulsively, and burst forth into shouts a little louder if possible than the rest. The altar was crowded by about forty mourners ; and it was nearly iive o'clock in the evening when the com^rcffation l>roko u}).
The campers unpacked their goods ; those who had left returned; the meeting was resumed; it conthiued for two weeks, and resulted in the con- version of more than two hundred souls. So much I'loru power has the man of wanu emotions than Die mere Bcholar, over the human heart.
! '68 # RECOLLECTIOXS OF
^
m
CHAPTER XII.
MR. JOHNSON ON NATCHEZ CIRCUIT, IN JIISSISSIPI'I.
TuE ensuing session of the "W^estern Conference was held at Cincinnati, commencing on the first clay of October, 1811, Bishop Asbury presiding. By this Conference — they certainly supposed Mr. John- son was both able and willing '' to endure hardness as a good soldier " — he was sent to Xatchez, in Missis- sippi, distant from Sandy River, by the most direct route that could then be found, not less than twelve hundred miles ! Samuel Lewis was his yoke-fellow, and Samuel Dunwody his Presiding Elder. Of this journey he left only the following brief memoran- dum :
" Conference sat October 1 day, rose 10 da}-. Sat out for Natchez 11, reached home October 23. Left them again November the G, lodged in Nashville that night. The next day reached Franklin, and — next day to Simms's on Duck River, and staid till ^londay morning. Then crossed Duck, and came to Solders's. Tuesday, crossed the line, and got to Shaw's, [Shawnoetca's,] and there slept lor the first time in an Indian's bed. Next day, rode o2 miles, and crossed Tennessee between 2 and o o'clock, which is about half across — ['the wilderness.']
THE REV. JOHN JOHXSON.
00
Lodged at Colbert's: lie's said to be a good Indian, but was not at borne. Tbence to Good Spring;
tbeuce to ; tbere we slept in tbe big bed —
[out-of-doors.] Friday we passed tbe old town — [strange.] Friday nigbt, lodged at Allen's; Sat- urday nigbt, reacbed tbe line ; Sunday nigbt, tbe Irisb; Monday, Norton's; Tuesday, Osborn's ; Wednesday, about 4 o'clock, readied tbe Territory."
" Tbe line," last named, I suppose to be tbe soutb- ern line of tbe Indian lands ; and by " tbe Terri- tory," he evidently means tbe more populous part of tbe Territory ; be bad been several days in Mis- sissippi, but in a very sparsely settled country.
He seems, upon enteriug "Tbe Indian Nation," as it was called, to bave supplied bimself witb a list of w^ords to be used upon tbe road, as occasion migbt require ; for I find in tbe same memorandum-book tbe followino;:
The Sim — hushcshoa. A C'jw — -^'auka. M ilk — beshook-ch 0. Corn — toushe. Meat — nippy. Beef — wauka-iiippy. A hog — shookhah. Chicken — ockuncak. Potatoes— au-ky. .Deer — asey. Fodder— tawkeshc. Pumpkin — '.voosto.
INDIAN LANGUAGE.
"Water — okah. Leather — uauka-nckeh. Sheep — chookpea. Eoad — benow. Knife — boslipcw. Fork — polocktoo. Firo — luooh. Oven — apoluskah . Tobacco — chcn\ock. Pipe---shooty. Horse — siiboy. A man — nockoney-
The following letter be wrote bis friends in Ten- nessee soon after bis arrival on bis circuit:
,70 " RECOLLECTIONS OF
-i "William Foster's, Near Natcuez, Nuv. 28, 1811.
f "Dear Mother, Brothers, and Sisters : — I must ' Avrite to you collectively, as I cannot individual l3\ It is with pleasure I inform you that I enjoy lioaltli j of body, and in some degree quietude of mind; and ■1 that we had a safe and somewhat comfortable. jour- •f ncy to this X'b^ce. Wo came through with post ; haste, occupying only nine days and seven hours in coming through the nations. Came forty miles or upward each day. Our horses performed the jour- ney well. AVe reached tlic Territor}- on AYednes- ; day, the 20th instant. I liiid it is ea^y to speak of, j but very tedioas and tiresome to make a journey of i five hundred miles. The road is far better than I '! expected to find it. Tlie friendly clouds poured , i' down one heavy shower of rain ui>on us in tlic wil- j derncss, and but one. The Indians are very kind and friendly ; sold us corn at i?l to v^l 50 per bushel. I think the Indians are far better than some of the whites who are among them. ■ "Here we are in the Territory ! What is here I 1 cannot tell you now, but I expect to know more i hereafter. I have yet seen but little. 0 may I sec ! the cause of God advancing, the devil's kingdom fallin"-, the powers of hell shaking, sinners trem- bling-, the kingdom of <!<»d coming, and over all prevailing! I suppose you will say 'Amen !' I do ho[>e you will join me in jirayer for the prosper- i itv of Zion ! liL't us prostrate ourselves Ix'fore the [ throne of grace, and cry out with ])avid, (in the i- eightieth Psalm,) 'Give car, O Shcjiherd of Israel ! ! thou that leadest Joseph like a llock ; thou that
THE REV. JOHN JOIIXSOX. , 71
(Iwcllcst. between the cheruljims, sliiiic fortli ! stir lip tliy strength, and come and save us ! ' ' •
" I would give you a sketch of afFiiirs in this place, but you may expect a very imperfect one. j
" ISTatchez, Washington, Selscr's Town, etc., have | a very ancient appearance. I suppose it has been « a hundred years since they were settled by the | French. In the beginning of the last century this | section was taken from them by the Xatchcz Indians, l and from theui one of the towns derived its name. « It lias been bartered and fought for by the Indians, j. Spaniards, French, English, and Americans, for \ many years ; and at the present day there are many different sorts of people here. Uere are the aged, stooping over eternity's dread brink, just ready to ■ make the aAvful plunge ; here the middle-ngcd with all their cares, schemes, and difficulties; here the young and gay, with all their mirth and levity ; ' here children, training up for the devil, rising into life, and posting into eternity, pursuing the foot- . steps of their parents down to hell ! Here are the rich, the noble, and the great; the polite, the phi- losopher, the chemist, the critic ; the wise, the igno- . rant; the scheming politician, and the simple peas- ' ant. Here is the miser, lank and gaunt, -
Who nicnnly steals ((lljcrcJitablc theft!) |
From back, and belly, too, their proper cheer, ;
Pressed with a tax it irks tlie wretch to pay !
To his own carca.'-.s. |
He counts over liis treasure, and fixes Ids heart moro = unchangeably upon the world : I..
72 .-•, RECOLLECTIONS OF
O cursed love of gold!. ^Yllcn for tliy sake ^"- A fool throws up his Interest in both ^vorlda ;
First starved in this, then damned in that to conic.
Iloro is the pcttj tyrant, wliose scanty dominions geography never noticed, (and well for adjacent lands that his arm is so short,) but who fixes his iron talons on the poor, and gripes them like some lordly beast of prey ; deaf to the forceful cries of gnawing Lunger, and the piteous, plaintive voice of misery, with heavy hand he drives on the overloaded slave, whose galled shoulders smart beneath the heavy burden of oppression. 0 that they may look up- ward while they stoop under their load, and secure an inheritance where tyrants vex not, and the weary rest! Here is a little few, whose trust is in the I Lord, and whose treasure is in heaven; who stand i like solid rocks against the swelling waves and pelt- I iug storms of persecution, temptation, and opposi- j tion ; and, like wrestling Jacobs, prevailing Israels, ; conquering Joshuas, seem dctcnnincd to conquer ' their enemies, and possess the heavenly land. i " 0, my friends, how it cliccrs my soul when, with j the eye of faith, I look up and see lieaven's brio-ht I plains, the shining robes, and the glittering crowns I that a\vait the faithful in those celestial regions of ; eternal day ! I am ready to say,
0 vshcn shall 1 .'co Jesus, i And re;;:n with him above,
1 And drink the flowing fountain
I Of everlasting luve?
[ O, my dearly beloved ! shall ]" meet you there, where
THE llEV. JOHN jouw^qN. 73
parting and sorrow shall bo no more, and all tears, shall be wiped from our eyes ? It grieved me to part with you here in time — let me not part with you in eternity !
" This was one cause of my grief when we parted, to think that I liad been so unguarded while I was with you — that I did not use more diligence and tnke more pains to help you all on in the way to lieaven. I have felt convicted for these things, and cannot complain if the Lord should never su^vv me to see your faces again, seeing our opportunity was BO little improved, and of so little profit. May the Lord pardon our neglect, and help us to be more faitliful ! Let me now exhort you, though far from you — though hills and mountains, rivers and valleys lie between us — I say, let me exhort you at this dis- tance, in the name of God and for the sake of Jesus Clirist, give up your hearts to God your maker! Til ink ever on God and eternity !
"I have been for some time with Brother Hous- ton, some time with Brother Quinn, two nights and part of two days with Brother LCarper, from whom I learn that my circuit is in bad order. There are three local preachers, five class-leaders, and about one hundred members; and scarcely one in the number, except the negroes, is not a slave-holder. Seldom a prayer or class-meeting on the circuit. The people in general are verj-rich, very proud, and very polite — exceeding all for compliments — but little humility, little religion, and little piety.
"Lord have mercy on us ! Amen.
"J. JoilKtJON."
74 RKPOi^LKCTIOXS OP
, I cannot forbear to copy another letter wliicli lie wrote to his friciids from this ci'T.uit:
"City of Natchez, Jlarch 15, 1812.
''Dearly Beloved: — 'Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, be with 3'ou all. Amen ! ' Having a few moments of time, and seemingly an opportunity of conveyance, I have sat down to write you a line or two, by which you will learn, should they be so fortunate as to reach 3'ou, that I am still on the human stage. Though far from you in body, I have not forgotten you,. but with warm and tender affection I remem- ber you still ; nor can I think that I am forgotten of you, though I hear not from you. I hear good news from Tennessee — that sinners are turning to God, bowing to the scepter of grace, and finding redemp- tion through Jesus Christ our Lord. How would my poor soul leap for joy if I could hear that my dear relatibns and acquaintances had found peace with God through Him that shed his precious blood for us !
" Does not every thing cry aloud, ' Prepare to meet thy God?' — 'signs in the heaven above, and in the earth beneath ? ' Our poor old crazy earth has taken her shaking fits, and seems to ring the death-bell of lier approaching dissolution ! "NVhile she bellows, and mourns, and belches out her fiery floods, shall wo not seek a more pormant'nt foundation, and build our ho})es on the Jiock of ages ? As says the poet,
'T is time wc all uwakc ! TIic dreadful day draws near ! tSiancr3, your bold presumption cheek, and stop your course, and fear!
THE KEY. JOHN JOHNSON. 75
Nu\v is th' accoptcd time; to Christ, for mercy fly!
0 turn, repent, and trust in liiai, and you sliall never die!
"I have done, and ara doing, but little here since tliis new 3'ear began. I liave read the Old Testa- ment throngh once, the i^Tew Testament three times, tlie lievclation four times, besides mj other reading ; rode about eight hundred miles, preached about Ibrtj-scvcn times, and taken about twenty or thirty into society. Some have been liappily converted to God, even in the Territory. My diversion has been studying music and learning to sing, at which I liave made considerable progress since I. began.
" Perhaps curiosity may move you to hear some- thing more of the particulars of this place, in addi- tion to the sketch I gave you in my last. The city of Natchez is situated on the south-east side of the Mississippi River, on a handsome eminence, th.ougli uneven. It contains four tailor-shops, live black- smith do., four saddler do., six carpenter do., five cabim't-maker do., one coach and sign-painter, two liouse-carpenters, three hatter-shops, two tinner do., lour boot and shoe-maker do., one trunk-maker, one book-binder, one wagon-maker, one chair-maker, one nail munuftictory, three barbers, four brick- yards, one butcher, four bakers, one brush-maker, three gold and silver-smiths, one confectioner and distiller, four brick-layers, one horse-mill to grind eorn, one plasterer, twelve water-carts, eight prac- ti<-iiig physicians, seven lawyers, three English schools, one incorporated mechanical society, one Freemason's lodge, one Methodist meeting-house, (the pulpit M-hereof cost ?400,) four magistrates, two
7G RECOLLi;CTIONS OF
printing-offices issuing weekly papers, two porter- houses, six public inns, five wareliouscs, one reading- room and coffee-lionsc, twenty-four mercantile houses or dry-goods stores, four grocci-y stores, two wholesale commission, stores, seventeen Catalena- shops, where a little of every thing is sold, one ven- due and commission store, and one bank, called the Bank of the Mississippi— capital §500 000, thirteen directors, Stephen Miner, President, etc. 'Under the hill,' or at the landing-place, are one tavern — 'The Kentucky' — two blacksmith-shops, thirteen Catalena-shops, etc. Upward of 1,500 souls reside in ISTatehez, 460 of whom are slave^;.
"Washington, on the road to Tennessee, about seven miles from Natchez, contains 520 inhabitants, 180 of whom are slaves. Five miles farther is Sel- ser's Town : there's the i-emarkablc mount of which Dow speaks in his 'Chain.' Eight miles farther is Union Town ; and eight miles fartiier Greenville, or Iluntstown, my upper ]>reaehing-place — of which places I cannot speak particularly, lest vou get as weary of reading as ] am of writing. These and Franklin arc all the towns I liave in my circuit, which is about two hundred miles round. Here are tnany people, much wickedness, and very little religion.
"On the first Friday in June my camp-meeting begins at Spring Uill : help, by your prayers, that wo may have a got id time ! J intended to give you a geo- graphical sketch of the country when I began to write this page, but time and patience fail mo. I much desire to hear from you all, and would be happy to
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. 77
hear that you are all bound for lieaveii, where I hope to meet you when labor and toil are ended, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary find rest, and 'where trouble all is done away, and parting is no more.'
''x'To doubt you wish to hear something of the health of this place. I can tell you of a truth, Death the tyrant reigns, and marches through the Terri- tory like a man of war. Deaf to tlie cries of sor- sow, and the plaintive voice of misery, he spares no class of mortals. One of the old settlors told me the other day, that he had not known so many of the older residents to die in thirteen or fourteen years, as have died this year; observing that it had always been common for foreigners and emigrants to die in great numbers, 'but now it's got hold on the old settlers ! ' And, alas ! who can escape the cold hand of death? * * =i= Lord help us to be always ready I AYc ought to live as we would wish to die, for wc know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh: 'Blessed is that servant whom the Lord when he cometh shall find watch- ing ! ' There *are a number of very healthy persons ill this country ; and death, with all its terrors, is but little regarded by them. It is not uncommon for funerals to be feast-days. Death is so common a thing it is little regarded, and soon forgotten. The more seldom we see death, the more terrible it looks ; tlie oftener, the more familiar and less dread- ful. In some phices, death is like a stranger or traveler passing through ; here, it is like a citizen dwelling amongst us. Look on it as we may, it is
n
78 RECOLLECTIONS OF
a" serious thing to die. May the Lord prepare us all for it! is the prayer of your affectionate
"John Johnson."
The follo\vi]-ig- is liis account of receipts and ex- pend^ures for the 3'car :
*'' "COLLECTION'S ox NATCHEZ CIKCUIT, 1S12. 1st qiiarter.
Washiugton ?2 00
Hening's 7 00
Spring Hill 2 3U
Selser's Town 1 75
PineRidgo 12 00
Bucklc'3 1 00
Noble's
Clark's Creek, (public col.,) Greenville, and the rest,
The whole amount ■...?74 50
"EXPENDITURES.
"Going to the circuit: — Dinner and horse fed, 37-1 cents; entertainment, 75 cents; breakfast, horse fed, 50 cents ; horse shod, ^1 00 ; ferriage at A. & *C., 43-| cents; ferriage, 12} cents; bread at Frank- lin, §1 121 ; corn and fodder at Shawneetea's, 37|
cents ; p , 6| cents ; do. at Colbert's, 37|- cents ;
do. at Good Spring, 18.^ cents ; do., 371 cents ; Fac- tor's, 50 cents; Allen's, §1 00; ferriage river, G|- cents; Hails's, 371 cents; "Watson's, 12-1 cents; Shore's, 25 cents; Korton's, 621 cents; "Word's, 121 cents; Osborn's, 50 cents; Hayes's, 121 cents; horse shod, ^1 50, The whole amount, $10 75. Expenses on the circuit: — Horse .shod, ^^2 00; for-
|
1 .juarti-r. |
Oil quartti-. |
4th quarter |
|
$5 00 |
§3 62} |
§2 871 |
|
311 |
5 00 |
12J |
|
3 00 |
2 00 |
3 25 |
|
3 00 |
7 00 1 25 |
|
|
2 00 |
||
|
10 00 |
|
|
THE IlEV. JOHN JOUNSON. • "■' 1*3
ri;i<;-e bayou, 25 cents; horse shod, $1 50; do., .^1 50 ; fcj-riage, 50 cents ; horse fed, 25 cents ; nails clinelied, 25 cents. The whole amount, §6 25. Expenses hack to Tennessee :— Horse shod, §1 31-|- j ti-aveling expenses, §11 68 J. The whole amount, ^13. Entire expenses, .^30."
I shall add no more in regard to this year's labor, except a partial list that I find of the distances trav- eled on his return: "McCraven's to Osborn's, 37 miles; to :N'orton's, 40; to Ilarkin's, 50; to Wall's, 43 ; to Allen's, 40 ; to J. Brown's, 44 ; to Tennessee, 40; to the line, 55; to Franklin, 53."
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SO-f^ |
KECOLLPXTIONS OF |
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''•¥>"■ |
fi |
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1. |
,-' ■'-*- '-. |
CHAPTER XIII.
Mil. JOHNSON ON NASHVILLE CIKCUIT, IN TENNESSEE.
The General Conference of 1812 divided tlie old AVestern Conference into tlie Ohio and the Tennes- see Conferences. The session of the Tennessee Conference, which was held at Fountain Head, K'ovemher 1, 1812, appointed Mr. Johnson to the Nashville Circuit for the cn&uing year, with Learner Blackman for Presiding Eklcr. lie was greatly pleased, after four years spent in "the uttermost ' parts of the earth," to have a licld of labor assigned I him so near to his former home and friends, and so [ near to what he almost regarded as the center of ' civilization.
. It niay seem hoth unnecessary and out of place
; for me to here insert a word in regard to this par-
r ticular feature of itinerant life — I mean, the trial of
I being severed from homo and friends— but, as the
j bosom-companion of an itinerant for forty-four
years, I feel that I may speak. In business, and in
political life, a man may be called to leave his home
and friends as often and as long; but business
and politics both' have a tendency to engross
I the whole man, and make the heart callous. And
even if the aflections are not whollv stifled and
. p
'y THE KEV. JOHN JOHNSON. ' ' 81
frozen, the perpetual round of excitement diverts th<3 attention, and dissipates tlie tlionglits of ]iome. It is not so with the minister. Everything pertain- ing to^ his office tends to soften tlie heart. Whether in secret he ponrs out the sorrows of his soul before God, or in public presses the suit of his people at the throne ; whether he sings the rich melodies of Zion, or urges the gospel call upon dying men ; every petition, every strain, every theme is rich in senti- ments that awake and cherish the liveliest sensibili- ties of the human breast. The inevitable result of a faithful performance of his duties, is the growth within his bosom, to its highest and utmost capacity, of every tender emotion. Then he is constantly reminded of the sweets of home. He sees other men at their own firesides, surrounded by their little dependent loved ones, and he cannot but contrast Ills lot with theirs. How gladly would he, too, join Ids little and desolate family circle at the close of the day — desolate now, but wanting only his pres- ence to make them happy ! My husband, cold and passionless as he usually appeared, shed many a bit- ter tear as thoughts like these arose. And even the sturdy and mirthful Cartwright I have seen sit down and weep like a woman at having to leave his fam- ily when they were unwell, or scantily provided for, and caper with his little ones like a wild man on his return. Yet y)eople imagine that preachers are well paid. Earth cannot pay them for the sor- rowful heart-struggles which they have to endure! . That the Nashville Circuit was no sinecure, will appear from the following list of appointmen.ts,
82 '^ RECOLLECTIONS OF
taken at random from Mr. Johnson's memorandum- book:
JS'asliville Nov- 22 Franklin Dec C'
Dillard's " 7
Reese's Cliapfl " 9
McCrackcn's " 10
Cane Ridge " 11
! Sewell's " 28 May's " 12
Ray's Mfcting-house... " 13
Levin Edney's " 14
S"£gs's " 15
Gowcr's " IG
PIsgah " 17
Saloni Meeting-house... " 19
Adams's " 21
|
Tate's |
... " 23 |
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Blair's |
.. " ''5 |
|
... " 20 |
|
|
jMoorc's |
... " 27 |
|
Sewell's |
... " 28 |
|
Liberty Hill |
« on |
|
Wau'di's |
.. " 30 |
|
...Dee. 1 |
|
|
Miles's |
" 2 |
|
... " 3 |
|
|
Oglesby's Beard's |
... " 4 ... " 5 |
Twenty-six appointments in thirty days, npon a charge covering over a thousand miles of territor^^, besides attending to the temporalities of his charge, I can scarcely resist the inclination to relate a lit- tle episode — if it be an episode — in Mr, Johnson's life upon this work, as related by one who was pres- ent. It is as follows : A poor, ragged, and ema- ciated footmnn, with every ai>pearauce of havino- traveled far, and of lacing at last exhausted, stopped at the house of a poor but pious man, Miio lived about fifteen miles from Nashville, v^diom the reader may know as Brother Stone. The traveler gave his name as Bennett, The next morning he was too ill to travel ; and he grew worse for two or three days, when Stone told him his case was a bad one, and asked him how he felt about death. He said his mind was composed, but he would like to have j). minister to talk and pray with him. The good
THE REV. JOHN JOIIXSON. ' ■' 83
J'rothcr Btone roclc all llic way to town to get a l)hysician, and Mr. Johnson to go out and see his suflbring guest. When the physician came and ex- amined the case, he told the poor man that his heart was seriously affected, his vital powers wcre'worn oat, and he certainly had but a lew days to live. Ai'lcr prescribing a few palliatives, the physician left, saying it was useless for him to return. Mr. Johnson now approached his bedside, asked him about the state of his soul, and about his home and friends. The following is his account of himself, nearly as he gave it, if not mainly in his own lan- guage :
" I am a native of Charleston, South Carolina. My father, and all that I knew of my relatives, were wealthy ; but my father died when I was but a child. Indulgod and flattered on every hand, my evil pas- sions developed into early maturity; and while yet a youth, I became a gambler and a drunkard, and ready to enter with keenest zest upon every evil work. Like every young man who has plenty of means, I was surrounded by a circle of associates \yho were ever ready to humor and to flatter me; and we all Aveht careering on together in the road to ruin and infamy. After spending two or three years in this abandoned and profligate life, I became J embroiled in a difliculty with a young friend: on the following day I met him on the highway as I walked out beyond the limits of the city, the quar- rel was renewed, and I stabbed him to the heart. He fell heavily to the ground : I seized the reins of his horse in stupid terror, not knowing what to do;
84 ' EECOLLIXTIOXS OF
■and at tliis moracnt several persons came along, and I found myself arrested and imprisoned under the double charge of murdering the man and stealing the horse.
"Every influence that wealth could bring to bear was employed to secure my acquilial, but the utmost that it was possible to accomplish vs'as to have me sentenced to ten years in the Stale-prison instead of being hung. The anguish of rjiy mother and sisters annoyed me greatly, and I would scarcely sutler them to come into my presence. My sentence was duly executed; and, unused as I had been to labor, or to restraint, I refused to enter tlie shops, or have any thing to do with any of the trades. As a pen- alty, I suppose, for this stubbornness, I was flogged nearly to death, and then driven to the blacksmith- shop and forced to labor there. I became stupidly reconciled to my lot, and my time dragged slowly but evenly along until eight years of my term had expired. An event then occurred, which I hope led me to a change of heart and life.
" I was working at the forge, weary, hopeless, and gloomy, and had just uttered a terrible wish that God Almighty would kill me, and take me out of the world. The wind at the time was roaring and blustering without ; and it became necessary' for me and my partner to change places for a moment: in this moment the wind brought down a stone from the top of our chimney, which foil squarely upon my partner's head, and he fell dead before me. I began to reilect seriously whether his state was improved or not by the change. Thoughts of death
THE llEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 85
:ii)(l eternity haunted mo from day to day, and I la-i;nn to dream almost every niglit of the friend V. iioiii I bad murdered years ago. Providentially, as 1 believe, a minister now visited us, spoke to L';ieb one about religion, and after being generally answered with sneers, be was surprised when I frankly told bimlbad been thinking about religion, and wished him to instruct me. Ho began a series of visits, which, to T)C brief, I will say resulted in my conversion.
"From that time to the end of my term, I was sub- missive, contented, and frequently very happy. I remained a few days with the keeper, receiving a couple of dollars for extra work, and immediately set out to find my mother and friends in Charleston. The atTection, which years of debauchery had nearly extinguished, was now revived; and I felt a desire to atone by a life of love for the anguish of spirit my course had occasioned the loved ones at home. As 1 plodded along, wear}-, hungry, and way-worn, my sv.'cetest retlections were about the mutual recognitions and embraces when the poor outcast hliould arrive once more at his home. There, at least, though despised by others, I should find a happy asylum in tlie home and the hearts of mother and sisters.
"At a short distance from the city I met my uncle. I recognized him, and told him who I was; but he r.-rr;vi'd mo so coldly it almost broke my heart. He ti)!d me that mother had spent most of her property trying to keep mc out of prison; that she did not like my behavior toward her afterward ; and he did
8G RECOLLECTIONS OP
not suppose sbc would be very g]ad to see me. She had disposed of the farms and all tlic city property, except the old hotel; and there she was keejiiug a private boarding-house. I well knew where it vras, and hastened to the place, but not without misgiving j and dread, for I was too well aware that I was poorly
I clad, and my face was now haggard and brown. I
I knocked at the door, and my own sister opened it !
I 'Betty !' I said, as slic looked coldly at me, 'don't
} you know me — don't you know your brother?'
i 'Iliave no brother,' she said; 'you have mistaken
I the house;' and was about to close the door. I
stepped forward and said, 'J)oesn't Mrs. .Bennett j live here? — doesn't mother live here? Do let me
' sec her! Do, tell her her son has come home!'
I She answered still more coliUy, 'The lady of the
i house is sick : she can't see any company. Besides,
i she has no sou : you are mistaken in the place ; '
and she slammed the door in my f\ice.
" Hoping I was mistaken, I asked the first man I j met who lived in that h<»u-^e. lie answered, 'Mrs.
I Bennett. Her son disgraced. and broke up the fam-
' ily, and she tries to earn a living by keeping a few
boarders. She's very proud, and is so mortified i that she says she won't own him if he ever comes
I back.' This was enough. I sat down upon a stone,
and wept like a child. But a little rellection con- vinced me that this was useless, and that I had bet- ter look l(n- a situation where I could get a subsist- ence by my tfade. 1 prayed God to direct and aid I me, and went to several shops and applied for work.
I But as soon as they found out who I was, they said
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. 87
fluy <li(^ not ^\'a^lt iLfit kind of n, man. I was aux- ious loiind a situation in town, asltlionglit I could in time convince ray friends that I was a changed man ; and I spent the few cents I had, and com- l»]ctoly exhausted myself, in a vain cfibrt to find a phico.
''Worn out, disheartened, and nearly perishing with hunger, I resolved to try to reach the far West, where no one had evei' heard of me, and there try to make for myself a living and a reputation. The way has been long and weary. Many nights I lay down and slept with the cattle at the roadside. ]\Iany days I suhsistcd on a piece of bread and a cup of water fur- nished me by a poor settler among the hills. I liavo come this for, and I don't expect that I shall over be able to go any farther. The cherished ties from wljich I hoped so much are all broken ; and I foci tluit I have no parents, no sisters, no friends in the world. 1 have nothing but my trade, which I shall never be able to follow, and this precious book [:v Tcslament] which the keeper of the prison gave jue.
" Yet I feel that I have friends and a home on liigh. I have suifered, but less than my Saviour sullbred. I have sinned, but I know that my sins are forgiven, and I wait with a degree of impatience, 1 fear, for the welcome change. Come, Lord Jesus ! come quickly!"
Mr. -lohnson, deo[)ly aflectcd, sang and prayed v.itii the poor outcast until they both were happy, and Jirothcr Stone and his wife were happy ; and tlie feast of love was continued for several hours.
i
as KECOLLECTIONS OF
On tlio following day, Mr. Jolmson adminis- tered to him the Lord's Supper, and on the next night he died. Trnlj, the passionate man is never safe ! Tnil^', there is a "balm in Gilead ! "
I will close this chapter Avith a statement of Mr. Johnson's receipts upon the Kashville Circuit:
COLLECTIONS ON NASHVILLE CIKCI.IT.
Nashville ?8 43J $1 25 ?13 50
Tate's 1 25 S3 50^
Blair's 50 2 25 1 25
Stoncr's Lick 1 25
Moore's Mceting-hou.-p 1 00 2 50
SeT\ell's 2 02} 2 68f
Liberty Hill 4 00 1 25 1 50 5 00
Waugh's 2 37}
Mason's 1 02} 1 00 1 00 1 25
Miles's 1 00 50 3 00
Tvalston's 2 12} 1 18] 2 25
Oglesb/s 1 5G.i 1 25
Beard's
Franklin 5 25 7 OG]-
Dillard's 50 ] 25
Becso's Chapel 2 00 2 25 4 00
McCrackcn's 187^ 1 68|
Cane Bidgo 1 25
May's 4 00
Kay's Meeting-house
Levin Edney's 87} 4 37} 3 31}
Suggs's 50 37} 50
Gowcr's 2 43J 2 75 2 68^-
Pifgah 50
Salem Mccting-liouse 3 75 3 25 3 02}
Adams's 75
$25 31} §31 37} $18 75 ?50 311
THE RKV. JOHN JOIIXSOX.
89
CHAPTER XIV.
Ml!. JOIIXSON ON LIVINGSTON CI^ICUIT, IN KENTUCKY — MARRIAGE.
At llio ensiling session of the Tennessee Confer- ence, held at Heese's Chapel, October 1, 1818, Mr. Johnson was appointed to Livingston Circuit, with I'ctcr Cartwright as Presiding Elder. This circuit was nearly coextensive with the present Hopkins- ville District, extending from Eainbridge — ten miles west of Iloitkinsville — to the Ohio Piver, and from Tennessee Pivcr to Tradewater. This will still more clearly appear by the following
LIST OF AITOINTMLXTS :
|
^ i.un;;'s Aiiisworth's |
Oct |
24 25 2G 27 28 29 30 31 . 1 o 4 5 G |
lirusli Mcctlng-liousc.X Eeod's |
ov. 7 ' 8 9 |
|
I'-ni-.vii's |
, Mitclioll's Kos.Vs ; -White's |
' 10 |
||
|
Morria's |
' 11 |
|||
|
ITull's |
' 12 |
|||
|
NiclioU's |
' 13 |
|||
|
null's |
Smitliland Rtitcliff's |
' 14 |
||
|
S|..!1,t's |
., . Nc\ |
' 15 |
||
|
N>.llrv's |
' IG |
|||
|
' 17 |
||||
|
1".'"1'5 ... |
,T;U110^'s. . . , |
' 18 |
||
|
Mii>rK'r's |
Javrett's Meupcr's |
' 19 |
||
|
11 siok's |
' 20 |
90
KECOLLECTIONS OF
m
ISTcarlj or quite all tliat Mr. Jolinsoii had made up to Ibis liiiic, lie bad. expended for books ; and I will give llie list from bis memorandum-book, hoping it ma}' be of some interest, as showing what a ]Meth- odist preacher's library was then composed, of, the text-books of the da^-, the prices at that time, and Mr. Johnson's a'rccdiness for them:
JOHN" .I0H\?''>X'S COOKS.
Coke's Commcutarj, G
vols
Diivie.s's Sermons, 3 v... Wesley's " 9v... rieteher's Checks, 0 v.. . Ilawes's Church Ili^to-
Wood's Bible Diet ion
ary, 2t
Buck's Miscellany, 2 v Preachers' Experience
Fletcher's Life
Baxter's Miscellany.,..
Select Poeni«
.Taylor's Holy Livin;:...
English Reader
Hester Ann Kogcrs
Abbott's Life
Fletcher's Appeal
,?-iS 00
8 00
0 00 5 00
G :>o
T) 00
;; Oit
1 00 1 00 1 2r> 1 c.j
1 u:.
1 00
Methodist Magazine....
Serious Call $
Essays to do Good
Drew on the Soul
Reformed Pastor
Doddridge
V/atts's Miscellany.... Alleine and Baxtei-....
Co'.vper's Task
Blair's Sermons
Discipline
AVatters's Life
Halliburton's Inquiry
Christian Pattern
Blair's ]vhetoric
Fletcher's Letters
Clarke's Sermons, G v. AVritts's Psalms and Hymns
1 00 70
1 00 75 1 00 1 12} 1 50
1 25 3 00
50 37^
2 00 3U
1 00 87 i 18 00
1 00
Sixty-t\YO volumes, cost §12G 5C)\.
When I first saw Mr. Johnson, in the fall of 1813, I was very much diverted at his uncouth ajipear- ance. ITo wore a woi'l hat, whir-b liad once been white, and ^^•!lich, a.^ be aftvrwaid told me, he had constantly worn [\>v seven yenr.<; a drab-colorod overcoat, with a very wide eajic and large armholes,
THE REV. JOHN JOUNSOX. 91
])al no sleeves; and shoes of tlie lieavicst and I'oughest pattern. Ilis pants were of a bottle-green color, corded somewhat like our more modern cor- duroy— the same, I suppose, that he brought from }\atclicz ; there was a patch on each knee — one a foot, and the other, half a yard long — of black broadcloth, the remains of an old coat; and they were split u}-> about eight inches at the ajikle, and the corners hqjped over and pinned jicrfoctly tight. ]Ii.s liair was nearly a foot and a half long, and I'lirted evenly in the middle ; his flice was dark and weather-beaten, his brows very black and heavy, and his countenance the most fearfully solemn that 1 ever beheld. T say, I at first regarded his appear- ance as extremely ridiculous ; but as I more narrowdy pcanncd his face, tlie feelings of mirth were soon and largely mingled with those of terror.
The Cumberland Presbyterians and Methodists liad, for sevci'al years, put up frequently at father's, and very gonerally tlic latter would preach at 'Mr. A\' hire's in the day, and at father's at night. In accordance vrith this custom, Mr. Johnson preached at father's one night on his second round. A couple i»t young ladies, of the name of Trailor, were visit- ing us; but after preaching, "Mr. Johnson went to his room and sat down to read, without seeming to notice girl? or anybody else. ISIiss Trailor remarked •'•"arrastically, as she eyed him askance through the •I'-'or, " AVoll, he's a cool chicken !" and, as wu uu- d<rstood tl;o }»hraso, I thought so myself.
^'ot long after tliis. Sister Wilcox — wife of the ury. YAmiwul Wilrox, before named as half-brother
*
i
t
92 RECOLLECTIONS OF
to P. Oartwriglit — astonished mo bj saying : " AVcll, Suky, the now preacher has noticed you, and you must look out for a Methodist X'reacher's courtship." I told her at once that I did not believe a word of it. I didn't believe he had ever noticed nie nor any other girl. Iler answer to tliis was: "Preachers avoid courtships as occasions for scandal, and make very few words answer for tliat business. Mr. John- son told Mr. Wilcox that he had been to Mr. Brooks's, liked, and would go again. That was all he said about it, but tliat is cnougii; it means a great deal; so, look out!" I scarcely know with what feelings I received this ir.tclligence. I was sur- prised, and I was alarmed ; yet I felt as if "it didn't amount to any thing ;" and I believe I said he was a droll-looking creature to be "noticing" anybody! I was on my way to Mr. Johnson's next appoint- ment at Mr. White's, when he overtook me. I was ver}^ much confused, but tried to conceal the fact; and the following conversation took place: "Do you know the trclilc of Olney?" "Yes, sir." A pause. "That" — alluding to a waste-house in an old field at some distance — "is a dreary-looking place; who stays there?" "I don't think any person lives there." "How would you like to live there?" "Xot very mucli." A pause. "How would you like to l)e a Methodist preacher's wife ? " "I couldn't tell : I have never thought much about sucli a thing." "Well, I wan* \ni to think about it." An.d on he rode, as um-eienioniously as he came, arriving at Mr. White's long before me. That night he preached at fatlier's, but he paid no
THE REV. JOJIN JOHNSOX. 93
more attention to mo tlian lie did to tlic dogs, except that, in casually meeting me on the porch next morning, he said : "Any interchange of views v\-e may have in future, must bo in ^vriting," and walked on. This is all the conversation that had passed between us up to this time.
My first impressions had nndergono a gradual change. From ridicule and fear, I began to regard liim with esteem, lie had shown himself a de- votedly pious and good man, and I could not but respect him. As far as I had heard, or heard of, liis preaching, it had been attended with unusual manifestations of the power and love of God. The grand desire of my heart was to secure the salvation of my soul; and I felt assured that, to this end, I n\ust have a devotedly pious companion if any, and not for all the world an irreligious man. His letters cviTKcd the honesty of his purpose. lie told me fiankiy that ho had no property, and no resources beyond liis poorly paid salary as a preacher. lie assured me that the life of a traveling preacher's wife was one of toil, privation, and hardship; as their receipts were small, their toil great, their fam- iHes homeless ; and of necessity, so long as they remained in the itinerant life, they could be but pilgrims and strangers in the earth. The fondest ties'of friendship wore liable to be severed at the close of every year; and the preacher's wife could look for none ui" ibose associations cemented l)y J>ge, nor for any of those conveniences that long res- idence at one place gradually gathers about a liome. And besides all those tilings, a preacher was most
m
01 RECOLLECTIONS OF
of his time absent from his family, and, as a gen- eral thing', his Avife must spend licr time in lonely solitude. And to mitigate tlicso trials there was nothing but the approbation of God and the con- science, and the liopo of heaven ; as there was no gain from the friendship of the workh
My parents soon discovered that Mr. Johnson regarded rac flivorably, and they were filled with apprehensions. They opposed my going to his meetings, and no longer invited him to our house. They took every opportunity to abuse and reproach the Methodists, and to ridicule their doctrines. The}^ laughed at Mr. Johnsori's dress, his manners, and his expressions ; and employed every means, in short, to prevent or drive away from my heart the feelings which they only suspected to exist. To all this I most cheerfully, I may say joyfullj', submit- ted, feeling satisfied that I was doing right in the sight of God. 'We wrote not many letters — not more than tlirce or four each — and these were com- mitted to the faithful hands of Sister AYilcox. We in this manner finally arranged that if my parents would consent, the marriage should take place at liome on the 10th of August; an<l if they would not, as I was then of lawful age — over eighteen — we would meet on that day, at 11 o'clock a.m., at Brother Edmund AVilcox's.
Mr. Johnson now applied to my ]iaren's for their consent, l)a\"ing previously in .-e<'i\'t invoked the blessing of Ciod; and somc'tliing like ihc following dialogue took place :
Mr. Johnson. ATr. Brooks, I have become ac-
'■'■ ^'".^
THE KEY. JOHN JOHNSON. 95
quaiutcd with your climghlor, and after a Dinlual expression of views and feelings, we are agreed to become husband and wife if your consent can 1)C obtained.
Father. Well, I can tell thee at once, friend, that I can never consent for a child of mine to become the wife of a Methodist preacher!
3L\ J. I know the life of a preacher's wife is one of toil and privation, and I have no wealth or aiiluence to promise, but oidy the care and kind- ness of a true and devoted heart.
F. Well, I don't know what thee wants with a wife, if thee has no means to support one.
Mr. J. As far as worldly goods are concej-ncd, I liave no means to support myself. God is my trust. He has thus far given me more than I needed, and far more than I deserved, and he is just as able to feed and clothe a family as to provide for one person alone.
F. That may be so, and yet it takes something substantial to support a family. It's but little God gives a man who don't work for it. I've seen how Methodist preachers' families are supported, and I never saw the wife of one but I could pick her out among a whole congregation by her sad and sorrow- ful looks.
Mr. J. Sadness and sorrow arc the poi'tion of every one, in the present lite; and our choice lic'^, not lielwoen a happy life and a wretched one, but between a course that will gain the approval of God and lead us to heaven, and one that will not. I be- lieve the Creator designed man for the marriage
K
96 RECOLLECTIONS OF
state, and I would therefore ciitcr upon' that state vrhen the opportunity occurs to get a companion tliat will 1)C of both temporal and spiritual advan- tage to me.
Mother. Well, I 've taken great pains in raising my girls, and when they leave me, I like to know what is to become of them.
Mr. J. If you had not taken pains in raising your girls, I'm sure I should wish to have nothing to do with them. That is the very reason I feel so sure that Susannah vrould make a good wife.
M. You're a stranger here; nobody knows any thing about you — where you are from, or who you are.
Mr. J. I am a stranger hero, but my cliaracter is known to the Conference, and that is all the voucher I can give you.
M. Yes, and yowv Conference has sent out, through this very section, some of the worst rascals that ever were known in this country !
Mr. J. Well, what have you seen in mo to ex- cite mistrust during the eight or Lcn months that I have been here 'i
31. Anybody can behave well for that length of time, when they have an object to gain by it.
1'. Anyhow, why can't thee wait till we all know thee better?
Mr. J. I know not where I may be sent next year; and if I luarry, I wish to f;})Cnd at loast a couple of moritljs licre, that 1 may }irovo myself both a])le and wiliing to treat a woman well.
F. 1 don't want to hear thee talk of liow thee
THE KEY, JOHN JOHNSON. 97
would treat Su]:y ! I tell tlioe plain, I don't want thee ever to let me see thy liice again !
M. I do think in my heart, tliat these low-lived, hlac'k, sliahby, heathenish-looking rascals, that go sponging around on honest people for a living, have little to do to be wanting to marry! I don't want you to say any thing more to me about it!
Thus rudely repulsed on every hand, Mr. John- son retired, deeply mortified, but hoping to find one or both of my parents in a more genial humor at a future time. He Avas resolved that if he failed to gain their consent, his fliilure should not be for lack of cllbrt. It was not long before he met father upon the road, and requested a few minutes' calm and unreserved conversation upon the subject dis- cussed at their last interview. Father was not well pleased, but was calm. Mr. Johnson told liim }>lainly that our minds were made up, we both were of age, and he was fully satisfied that neither law nor religion was against the step. We felt assured that our temporal, but especially our eternal, inter- ests were at stake ; that his opposition w^as grounded on jirejudice or mistaken views, and that his olijec- tions, therefore, were not such as we were morally or religiously bound to regard in this matter. He, however, assured him that he might always depend on our love and respect, and that he should find us wanting in notliing that pertained to the duty of f-'hiMriMi. Yet, if he would not consent to our mar- riage, \\-e should still i>roceed in the course we had agreed upon, and be married at the house of a iK'igh])or. 4
98 RECOLLECTIONS OP
■[ Father, after a long silence, then told Mr.
Joliiison that, if we were determined to riiarry, I we should be married at liome, though he would
[ much rather see me carried to the grave,
1 Accordingly, August 10, 1814, wo were married, bj
I tlie liev. Edmund Wilcox. ^Mother was not present,
! she had retired to another room to weep ; and when
i told that the ceremony was concluded, she fell in a
i swoon, and lay in a state of almost total insensibility
I all the remainder of the night, j^o e3'e was closed
I for sleep, nor did we even lie down to rest that
I night.
i All was sorrow, and confusion, and alarm. My
j own heart was utterly broken by the grief of my
"i parents. I wept all night long, and went sob-
bing around, in a state little better tban in sanity. Mr. Johnson exerted himself to administer comfort ; and consolation to all; yet he too was often weep-
[ ing, and ever and anon a deep and heavy groan ex-
J pressed the sadness and solicitude of his breast;
I and many a time, as the dark and doleful hours
wore away, did our fervent prayers ascend to God, that he would give us all grace to bear the trial, and to demean ourselves as became the disciples of I Christ.
I I remained at home until Conference. My parents
' gradually became reconciled to my choice, and Mr.
Johnson's kindness to me at length overcame, to a great degree, their ar.tijialliy for him. lie was gone nearly all the time, and I was very busy making what little preparation I eould for keeping house, though I knew it was uncertain whether we should
THE KEV. JOHN JOUNSOX. 09
have any liousc to keep or not. A bod and bedding was all ni}' patrimony ; and Mr. Johnson had nothing- but his horse and equipments, and a hirgc trunk covered with white horse-hide, and filled with books. After our marriage, he added a home-made bedstead, a Couple of chairs, and thi-ec or four cooking ves- sels. This was the total of our earthly estate.
*
100 RECOLLECTIONS OF
I CHAPTER XV.
i Mil. JOIINSOX ON OIUISTIAN CIRCUIT, IN KENIUCKV.
I The TciHiessGc Coufercnco met this year at Ivcii- j nerly's Chapel, in Logan county, in the month of ^ September. Mr. Johnson took mo with hun. Bishop Asbmy presided. It was the tirst time I ever saw this venerable man. lie was dressed in dark clothes — the true old-fashioiiod Methodist coat, a straight vest coming dowri long and loose in front, and a light-colored, wide-brimmed hat.
It was then customary for all married ladies to wear a kind of cap. This gave some of our younger wives of that day a matronly a]i|)oarance that I im- agine would now look strange iixkod. I had fur- nished myself vcith one, ])lainor t'uan was common, from the twofold motive of ccononi}- and propriety; and I had this on when introduced to the Bishop. It was not quite plain enough, however, to suit his severe ideas; for, after the nsu.al salutation, he placed his har.d near my head, and said solemnly but kindly, "O ^i>t(!r! too mucli cn[)-border! "
I felt great anxiety as to our destination, and managed to find out at the earliost possible time the appointment designed for Mv. Johnson. To my great sorrow, I learned it was Duck River, in
t
■ TiiK r.KV. JOHN JOHNSON. 101
Tennessee. I made all liaste to sec tlic Elder — Peter CartvN'right — to beg liim have Mr. Jolinson sent back to Livingston. ' But Cartwright assured me that the appointment for Livingston could not be changed. I then begged him to try to have Mr. Johnson sent to Christian, as the nearest cliarge besides; and I pleaded with an earnestness that no- body but an itinerant preacher's ^vife can compre- licnd, that it was my first year from home; that my l«arcnts were already nearly inconsolable because I liad married a ^Methodist preacher, and I would like for the trial to fidl as lightly npon them as possible; and that, after I and they had become somewliat accustomed to the separation, I would go without a murmur to any v\'ork the Conference might appoint. My entreaties seemed to aftcct Cartwright a good deal, and lie promised to do what he could; and at length he succeeded in having the change made in the appointments.
On this circuit, embracing nearly all the societies of Christian county with a few in adjoining coun- ties— as Conccud in Eutler — there was no parson- age. There was not even a house for rent, unless it was in Ilopkinsvillo, and the thought of living in town, with the increased expenses it would in- volve, was not to be entertained for a moment. It was, as usual, a four-weeks' circuit, and Mr. John- ^^on had nearly as many appointments as there were days in four weeks; and of course I had to go with iiini, or not enjoy much of his company. I was anxious to aid .Mr. Johnson in making a support: Jind, when at home, I liad never known any other.
I 102 ^ RECOLLECTIONS OF
.j way of getting goods than by making them with I my own ]iands. There were, in neai-ly every neigh- j borhood, men wlio liad means enough to entertain I me for a wliile; so I thougiit it best to stay with j some pious family Avhile ^Ir. Johnson made a round j on liis work, then go to another society and remain ■ a like length of time. i\nd on proposing this, it was considered by the members as a better plan than for them, just at this time, to erect or rent a f parsonage.
This, then, became tlic plan. The people were
exceedingly kind to me; and Avhcnever it was
i known that I was in the neighborhood, the little
j packages of cotton and wool were sent in from every
■1 . direction. Carding and spinning these was my
constant employment from morning to night; and
j in winter, from an hcnir before day till 10 or 11
I o'clock at night. And I had no brilliant lamp by
I which to -work. Most of my work, of evenings,
; was done by firelight; for I would not allow the
fiimily whore I staid to incur so much expense on
j my account as to burn a candle, or oven a lamp,
j when their own Avork did not rerpiire it. Yet de-
I tcrmined in any case to be independent, I had pro-
t vidod and equipped a lamp of my own, to be used
I in case I had company, or any otlier occasion to use
'. it. The lamp was a pretty large piece of a broken
saucer; the wick was a string torn from a bit of
soft rag, and tlie oil was obtained by carefully
"skimming the top- oil" the pot" whore nieat had
I been boiled. All of which, by the way, made an
. excellent lamp.
p THE IlKV. JOHN jonxsoN. 103
After I liad carded and spun cnougli tbread for a piece of cloth, lSh\ Jolinsoii would preach twice a day for two dajs, in order to get two days to bring me down to fatlier's, a distance of thirty miles. Here I staid four weeks, and wove my cloth; and then T^Ir. Johnson, by again crowding his appoint- ments as before, got two days to come down after me. In this wa}-, by incessant application, before the year was out, I had made two suits apiece for Mr. John- son and myself. I had also, I thought, improved ]\[r. Johnson's appearance; for I had trimmed his liair so that when combed smoothly forward it reached not quite to his eyebrows, while it hung but little below his ears on the sides and back of his head. I made his pantaloons a little larger at the ankles, did not split them up quite so high, and took out the pins with which he had usually pinned them tightly over. But my first cii'ort at trimming liis hair caused me considerable mortification. It was somewhat irregular, after all my pains; and the first time Sister Cartwright met us, she cried out, " ^Vhy, r>rother Johnson ! what calf has been chew- ing your hair off?"
I staid at Brother Cartwright's a good deal, partly liccause it was near the center of the circuit — about two miles cast of Ilopkinsville — and partly because lirotiier Cartwright was much of the time absent from home and his family was small. I staid seven weeks at one time, or about twice as long as I usually staid at one place. Sister Cartwright — ]*'ranky, as I always called her— was one of the iiiosl industrious and amiable women I ever sa^^'.
104 '^ RECOLLECTIOXS OF
I Whatever slie did seemed to Le done bctier and quicker than anybody else could do it. I don't tliiuk any one could snatch the feathers off* a I chicken as quick as slie. But Cartwriglit's absence i Avas a source of continual distress to her, and slie I conkl not refrain from so expressing herself in his ; presence.
I Cartwright was a strange kind of being. I could
' never get fully acquainted Avith him. lie was at \ times as affectionate and kind as any man, but I oftener as abrupt as if entirely destitute of feeling. I iNly Brother David and Sister Polly came up to see i us while I was staying there; they arrived Satur- I day evening, and returned Monday mornino;. On I Sunday, they put on suits which they had brouo-lit for the purpose— their best, of course, perfectly neat, though neither very fine nor out of taste. But when they came into the family-room, instead of a polite or any other salutation, Cartwright cried out, "Ugh! come from povoi-ty-hall rigged out in silk and satin!" This, as they were liis guests, and wore neither silk nor si.tm, and Averc as able to dress as he was, seemed very discourteous; and, though Cartwright instantly relaxed and be'^-an Ins usual round of jests and anecdotes, with the ever- present "te-he-he," yet David and Polly were deeply wounded, and I believe the\- never quite foro-avc the rude reproach.
Cartwright, however, was generally afl'eetionato in his family. ^V]Ml Franky would chide him for leaving home so much when all were not well, I have seen liim sit down and weep like a child.
THE RKV. JOHN JOllX^OX. 105
And v.'lien he came Lome from his round of qnav- lerly meetings, it wns^ not an ]iour before ho got up a general romp with the clnkh'en. "Upstairs and down tliey went, overturning chairs or whatever else was in llie way, sometimes one of tlio chilih-cn or C'ari- wright Ijimself falling heavily upon the (lo(n'; and the whole performance, accompanied hy a grand chorus of shouts and screams, and the clatter of many feet, made such an uproai- as seemed really alarming. "Why, ^l\\ Cartwright!" Franky would say, "1 do believe you and the children ^vill tear i the house down ! " Cartwright had but three chil- , dren at this time, and to dress these and arrange the rooms was my work, while Franky was getting ^ broakiast. Then I would ply the cards with might : and main for the rest of the day. AVhen I got a ■ sufhcicnt lot of rolls ready, I went over to the house ' of a most excellent brother, Kenry Ilobson, and did , my s[)inning. |
Our lirst son, Thomas B., was born at father's, ' August 20, 1815. In a few days, I was seized with puerperal fever, wdiich speedil}' brought me to the very verge of the grave. ^Ir. Johnson was seventy miles distant, but a letter was quickly started to h'un, and after a long delay received. He came in , haste, making the seventy miles in a little over I twenty-four hours, but found mo somewhat bettor. ' lie remained that night and tlic next day; and in the following night, I may say — for it ^\'as several hours before day — he started back to his woik. 1 recovered slowly, however, and indeed was not. able to leave father's till the end of the year. I then i
.■» . I!
106 RECOLLECTIONS OF
went v>'ith Mr. Johnson to Conference, but wo rode only about ten miles a day, on account of my weak- ness.
I was too much busic<l with my ow)i work this year to take much note of ^tr. Johnso)i's, but the following list of his appointments may interest those within the bounds of that work: Kirkham's, De- pew's, Petree's, Smith's, l^lliolt's, AVatkins's, Brig- liam's, EanJal's, Bradford's, ^Slanly's, Matthews's, Brisbin's, J. Harrison's, Gi-ay's, Padlicld's, Concord, Pond River, Langly's, Greenville, Bell's, Mud River, Concord in Butler county, Is"ourse's, Xennerly's, Clifty.
Two miles from Hopkinsville, in that day, was an out-of-the-way j)lace, and this — I mean at Brother Cartwright's — was about as })ublic a ]-ilacc as I found on this circuit. Here, as we were in sight of the road, we saw movers' wagons passing along every few days, and not a great many other persons passed at any time. Brother Ifobson also lived on the road. There were two Henry Hobsons, and, for distinction, one was called Road Hal, and the other Hallelujali Hal.
THE TvEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 107
CHAPTER XVI.
MR. JOn^\^ON ON GOCoE CREEK CIRCUIT.
It was usual for ministers to take their fomilies — especially if they had small ones, and nothing else-- to Conference, in order that they might go imme- diately on to their work ; as some, if they had to go hack after their fiimilies, would have to travel sev- eral hundred miles. The Tennessee Conference for 1815, met at Bethlehem ISIeeting-house, near liobanon, Tenn. Though scarcely recovered sulli- (■ir-nlly to travel at all, I accompanied Mr. Johnson, riding, as heforc stated, ahout ten miles per day, ^Ve staid at Colonel Winn's, and a most liospitahle li'iSt v.-e found liim. Bishop Ashury again presided. 1 went to hear him preach, Richard Bond assisted hini into the pulpit, arranged his chair and cushion, and seemed to take great pleasure in having the old num comfortahlc. The Bishop then preached from his chair — the first sermon I ever lieard delivered in that posture — and his sermon vras short, solemn, lunl instructive, like the serious but dispassionate <--"Unsols of a fatlier to his children.
On the last day of Conference, we came by to ^'•'ive our child baptized. Tlie church was out of ^own ; and the Bishop, that the Conference might
I 108 RECOLLECTIONS OF
'I not be dislurbed, went with us a little distance into
the grove, accompanied l)y a man who brought a
' horn^-cupful of water. This cup, I may say to my
I younger readers, was of a kind generally carried by
I travelers in those days, because not easily broken,
! and was made of a piece of cow's-horn about five
inches long, the smaller end being stopped by a
securely tacked plug of wood.
i. We went to a large log, and the Bishop, pointing
I to it, said, iu his inimitably deep and solemn tones,
"Sit down there, sister, and sit all the time." I
j wished to name the child for my father, Thomas
Brooks. The old man's stern feuturcs relaxed slightly
[ for an instant, as he said, "I'd call him Thomas
Coke ; " but, without farther hesitation, he gave him
I the name of " Thomas Br-rokes "—trilling the r, and
I sounding the double as a single o. lie baptized by
' a triple aifusion on the child's forehead as he lay on
I my lap, pouring at the name of each person of the
j Trinity.
I Mr. Johnson wa> appointed to Goose Creek Cir-
i cuit, which lay in part in f^nmner county, Tenn. Learner Blackman was Bresiding ]%lder, and a most excellent man he was. lie was at all times neat and tasteful iu dress, and altUble and polished j iu manners ; and as he was a preacher of no ordinary ! ability, he was very generally admired and univer- sallv'^lovcd. The circumstances of his death, as well as I can remember, Avere these: After travel- ing all winter, and nearly all spring, u[)on his l)is- I trict, he went with his wife to Ohio, for a few weeks' j rest, visiting his brother-in-law and sister, John
j M#
!
Tlir: KEY, JOHN JOHNSON. 109
Collins and w'li'c. On IjIs return, lie stopped at Cin- cinnati over Sunday, and until Tuesday morning. Jle then resumed his journey liomoward, came to the ferry-boat, dismounted, led Mrs. Blackmau into the boat, and then brought on the horses. Present- ly the fcrrj'-man hoisted a sort of sail, which flapped in the wind, and frightened the horses. Thej'- lca])cd out of the boat, dragging Llacknian with tlieni, and in the struggle, although he was twice seen to rise to the suriace, he was drowned before help could reach him. It is said that two skiffs that were started out to his relief became unmanageable by breaking an oar each, and it was several hours before the body was recovered.
Mr. Johnson's relatives were very much elated athis appointment, as it brought him into their vicinity; and especially his mother, who declared that it allbrded her more pleasure than to have received a gift of a thousand dollars. But it was not exactly Si.) with my i)oor self The circuit was like the last — it was destitute of a parsonage, and there was no house — that is, none that was comfortable enough, and at the same time cheap enough for us — to be rented as a substitute for one. In addition to this, the nearest preaching-place was over one hundred niilos from father's, and I believe the circuit was about one hundred miles across. I had hoped that by this time I should become so weaned from my old home and relallvos, th:it I could go to any pos- .^iblo appointmcTit, not only without regret, but with <heerfulness ; but those old and precious ties are not 60 easily shaken off from the ardent and susceptible
^
110 RECOLLECTIONS OP
lieart. I way, thougli I. slrovc not to bo, mucli cast down when our destination was announced. We were at a loss what to do. I tried to bo cheerful, and said notliing of my regrets ; but Mr. Johnson soon perceived that I was distressed and sad at heart, and a look of despondency came over his countenance which it pained my very soul to see.
After a painful silence, as we rode along, he said, " I would love to own a small farm, with a cabin upon it just large enough to make ray little family comfortable, to have a good horse and a yoke of cattle, a cow and a few hogs, and sheep enough to make our clothing. I would like to live among religious people, and near enough to a meeting- house to enjoy its blessed privileges, I would labor willingly for my Ileavenly Master; and 0, how much I should delight to spend a part of every day \yith my beloved fomily ! " He paused: his heart was full. "I'll arrange," he went on, "for you to stay at your pa's, or on the circuit, or anywhere that j you may prefer." lie "filled up," and relapsed ! into silence. I assumed a pleasant and cheerful air, I and said, "Mr. Johnson, I wonder if we couldn't j rent a part of old Mr. White's house? lie has a i small famil}-, and plenty of room ; it is near enough ' to father's, and convenient to preaching." Mr. Johnson seemed greatly relicve<l, his countenance brightened, and we rode on conversing cheerfully about the plan suggested, j That night I had a singular dream, which T give
j for what it is worth, I seemed to be out at sea alone } in a little boat; I know nothing about how to move
'm
TJIE ItLV. JOHN JOHNSON. Ill
or lo liianagc it, nor ^vliich way I oup;lit to go. A (lark cloud was rising, and I was terribly perplexed and alarmed. As I looked around in dismay, I licard ii voice calling nic, and saw a larger boat ap- jtroaching. As it drew near, I rccogni;icd old Mr. White, with his javoily, and he shouted to me to come aboard his boat. I joyfully complied, and went on in safety. This dream was repeated two or throe times in the course of Llie night. In the morn- ing I told ^Ir. Johnson, jocosely, that before trying to niakc any other arrangement, we must sec i\Ir. White, and find out if he would take me aboard his boat.
"We accordingly proceeded on down to Kentucky, and hastened to see him. He readily agreed to let me have a room. This was about three miles from father's, so I was not very far from home. The house consisted of two pretty large rooms, with an open passage between, and a chimney at each cud of the house — cpiite a roomy bouse for that time and place — and his family consisted of only himself, wife, and son. He gave us the room, and furnished me with fire-wood cut ready for use, and hauled to the door, and had a lire made for me every morn- ing for six months ; and all for the more than rea- sonably low charge of ten dollars ! Of course I was to do my own work, and furnish the room, and board myself.
Here I found, as far as Mr. White and his family could make it so, a pleasant Lome. We had preach- ing in the house every four ^vceks, and Mr. White had family prayers morning and night, which I gen-
112 KECOLLECTIONS OF
crally atteiulod wlicu I could. l\i\ White also held class-mGGling once or twice a month. These were times of joy and refreshing to my soul.
But my every-day life was not so pleasant. My child was about two months old, was seldom well, and ^\-as exceedingly cross and fretful. I had no help whatever. Mr. White was doing so much for me, I could n't ask him to do more. For five months I never knew what it was to have one peaceful night's repose." I had no light at night hut what my fire supplied ; and whatever attentions my suf- fering child required, I had to bestow in the dark, and guided by the sojise of feeling alone. And be- sides attending to liim and doing all my housework, I was compelled to card, spin, and weave every yard of cloth that we used — clothing, bedding, table- linen, and napkins of every kind.
A sugar-trough was the best substitute for a cra- dle that I could afibrd. I could rock this while card- ing, but when I went to spin, I was obliged to leave the child to himself, and then he would cry till his cries seemed to tear my very brain. Pressed by the urgency of our necessities, and the amount of my work, I was exceedingly anxious to push it forward; the wails and sobs of the babe, however, at last be- came too much for a mother's heart, then I would drop the unlluished roll to quiet him, only to go over the same round presently again. Then, over- come with sorrow and perplexity, T would sit down and mingle my cries, and sobs, and torrents of bit- ter tears with his.
At length, when the thread fur my cloth was com-
Tin-j ]'j:v. Joii\ JOHNSON. 113
jilcted, I would go over to father's — n, distance, as bclbi'O stated, of nearly tliroo miles — to "weave it. This was always a joyful trip to inc. I could there leave my child in tlie care of my mother, or sister, while I wove my cloth in peace. The antici})ation of this tri})-as it drew near made my very heart glad, and cheerfully and lightly did I step along |
wnen all was ready, althonirh I had to walk and '*,
carry the child on one arm, and my huge hanks ot ,'
yarn upon the other. |
To make my lot still worse, I had not a sufhcieuc}- ;
to cat. It took nearl}' all the money we had at the ■
close of the last year to take us to Conference and <
back, and with the remainder Mr. Johnson liad i
bought a few cabbages and turnips, and paid in ad- !
vance for meal enough to make my bread, and '
bought some meat. Flour was a luxury — like sugar |
and coffee — not to be thought of except on Sunday mornings, and seldom enjoyed even then. The •
meal and the vegetables were duly forthcoming; :
but fi'om some cause or other, the meat never came ;
to hand. Fortunately, Jimmy George, a very kind I
neighbor, chanced to send us a shoulder of bacon, -
and this was all the meat I had in the house for six months! Corn -bread, and cabbages or turnips, !.
boiled with a little piece of meat as large as ray |
thumb — and this boiled over and over till it would fairly l\ill to pieces — this was my diet for all those I
long and dreary months.
I scarcely know whether it was from pride — be- cause ray parents had advised me not to marry — or from an unwillingness to give them pain, bntl care- '
114 KECOLLKCTIONS OF
i fullj concealed from them the worst of our condi- tion. Our bed, upon its home-made, scafibld-like j frame, I managed to have looking neat; the floor I i kept scrupulouslj clean hy periodical scouring; I j set my chair on one side of the fire-place, and the other — Ave had but two — opposite, so as to look as if some one had been there; my sugar-trough cradle was always bright; my pot, skillet, and tea-kettle — all the cooking utensils I had — sat cozily on the hearth; and I tried to arrange Mr. Johnson's trunk, that contained tlie books, and the shelf, whore I kept all manner of clotliing, and the other little shelf that an.■^^^-orod for a cupboard, and the meal- sack, and the spinning-wheel, so as to give the room as much as possible the appearance of being fur- nished and comfortable.
fe^-
THE KEY. JOirX JOHNSON. 115
CTIArTEIl XVII.
THE SAME — CONTINUED.
i
In all these six long mouths I never saw my hus- band hut one single time. lie had then preached twice a day for four days, so gaining four to come -.
down ; staid all night, and started hack, coming and ;
going at the rate of fifty miles a day. I would not f
distress him by telling him that our meat had not come ; and as for making money to buy, it was all I could do to get sewing to do for the neighbors ])y taking my pay in cotton and wool, and all the time I could spare for such work was scarcely sufficient to furnish enough of those articles to make our needful clothing.
Mr. Johnson had been gone something over two months, when he wrote me the following letter:
" Decomljer 31, 1815 — 9 o'clock at night.
"My Beloved Companion: — After preaching and riding near twenty miles, I once more grasp my pen, (at this late hour, as the mail leaves Gallatin to- niorrow, and I have yet about twenty-five miK's to nde before I can get there.) to communicate a thonglit or two more to you.
"The tedious period of absence is yet prolonged.
IIG RECOLLKCTIO.XS OF
The prcaelier I expected to take my place here, being nmvell, is not able at tins time\o do sc, but expects to be able by the 22d of January. So I think you may calculate on seeing me, if God will permit, on the 28tli of January ; nor shall any thing but affliction or death keep mc longer from you. I expect to visit the post-ollice again to-morrow, and
0 how glad I should be to tind even a line there from you ! I have not received one sentence from you since I left you. I know you have not forgot- ten mc, nor could I ever forget you and our dear little one while mind or mcnioiy lasts. May we always reniember and pray iov each other, until we meet to part no more ! Trulj-,
Love is the ruling p:issioa of the mind, Owns no superior, by no la-\Ys confined, But triumphs still, impationt of control, O'er all the grand endowments of the soul.
'Love conquers all things, and let us yield to love.' 'Love is the fubilling of the law.' 'Beloved let us love one another.' But ht us love the Lord our God with all our ransomed powers, and let us suf- fer and die for his sake, if need be, that we may live with him in heaven eternally. Little do I care what
1 suffer in this world, so I may be happy with you in the next.
"I expect to take my station in the Ked Biver Circuit after the last of January. They do sa^- I must needs y;o io General Conference, but I know not what I shall do. I wish to do the will of God in all things. AVhilst far IVom each other, let us
TJIE IIKV. JOHN JOHNSON. 117
live near llic Lord. I liopo you ^vill pray mucli, and seek your ouly comfurt in religion. And be- lieve mc, as c^'er, your alFeetionatc liusl)and,
"John Johnson."
The cliange alluded to in tlie letter, by wliicli Mv. dolin<ou was to take the lied Eiver Cireuit, Avherc he would have been a great deal nearer to us, was never accomplished. His election to General Con- ference M'as defeated by the jealousy of Peter Cart- wright.
At the end of five months of the Conference- year, ]Mr. Johnson wrote to mc that he could no longer bear this separation from mc and our little one; that one more round would complete the half of his year's work ; that he would then come down after me, and I must spend the remainder of the year among his relatives on the circuit. The days now seemed to pass slowly ; yet the hope of being once more, for a time at least, a united family, cheered my heart; and the long and lonely silence of my room — silent but for the humming of the wheel, or the crying of the child — was again broken by the frequent sound of cheerful songs, as I had Bung them in younger years. At the appointed time he came. We packed up the little we had of this world's goods, whicli we could not carry with us, and left them in charge of old Air. AVhite. Mr. Johnson had traded for an old gig: into tl.l- we got, with a trunk or so, went over to father's and Ktaid all night, then set ofi' for Goose Creek. I was very liappy as we rode along together, though
118 KECOLLl'CTTOXS OF
it was somcwliat inconvenient to knit nil the time, as I did, with the babe in my arms.
I preferred to go with Mr, Johnson on his rounds, \
and tried to do so, though I many times had to re- ]
main at one place till he came bark from another, i
that could only be reached on horseback. But I i
grew tired of this after a round or two, and as much i
as I disliked to impose upon friends, we arrano-ed \
that T sliould spend the rest of the year in alternate weeks with his brothers and sister. These all lived ;
near together, about four miles from Gallatin, were -•
lively companions, and exceedingly kind. They !
furnished me as much cotton as I could spin. I •?
saw }ilr. Johnson often, and the time passed quite |
happily. I
I must here record a story they told us of old Mr. i
Stone, Brother Lewis Johnson's fother-in-law. "Wlieii f
he first came to Sumner county, he found a pretty good log-church in the neighborhood, but no soci- j
cty. From removals and dissensions, the society f
which built the house had been broken up; the |
preachers no longer carno to preach; the paths to the church were grov.-n up, and the house itself looked ruinous and desolate. The old man deter- mined to start a prayer-mccting. He announced to the neighbors that there ^^'ould be a l.irayer-meetinf^ at the meeting- house on the followin<:^ Sunday moniing, and regul;u-]y ou every Sunday morniu'i- thereaficr. \
At the ap})ointed hour he went, hoping, as lie j
walked along the grass-grown path, for the dav/n of I
better days. ITo went to the house — went in and
I
THE llEV. J0]1N JOIIXSON. 119
sat down. ISTobody canio. ]Tis own cliildrcu were iiuirncd, and his wife was neither so active nor so f^anguinc a.s lie ; so lie came alone, and remained alone. He read a chapter of Holy AVrit, sang one of the old songs that he used to sing in times gone hy, and prayed, imploring the assistance and the blessing of God with all the fervency of his pious soul. IFc became happy, and went home, singing as he went, for joy. The next Sabbath the same thing occurred: nobody came; and he read, sang, and prayed till he was happy. The third Sab- bath was spent in like manner, and with a like result.
Some young people now thought they would "drop in" and see what the old man was doing. Ilis meeting was the same, with a few^ words of exhortation to the spectators. The novelty of the atVair began to excite an interest, and in two or three months the visitors filled the house, and among tliem were many who would help to sing, and a few who would pray in public. Then an interest in re- ligion began to be awakened, a protracted meeting was determined upon, the services of a minister were secured, and in due time a glorious revival was in fall progress. And although the old man was quite old when he began his unpromising work, yet lie lived to see the Church reestablished there, and moi-e than one hundred members in the society.
^[r. John.sou's mother, as before remarked, re- joiced greatly that our lot had been cast in her vi- cinity, Initthe poor old lady was not spared to enjoy our company to the end of the year. Increasing
120 RECOLLKCTIOXS OF
age rdul afllictions liad brought Lcr cIo^Yn to tlic couch from wliicli slic was never more to rise, yet we had little apprehension of immediate danger. Her disease, however, soon assumed a violent char- acter, and in a few days it became evident that she could not survive. Mr. Johnson being at one of his most distant appointments, we sent for him, and he came in liaste. Alas, the remedies and the tender assiduities employed to relieve her sufferings fliiled, and on arriving, he found her just entering upon the struggle with the last enemy!
Ilis company had ever been a source of boundless satisfaction to her, and was especially so as she now drove down to the gates of death. She was per- fectly rational, lie conversed with her a while, ad- ministering the consolations of religion, and receiv- ing from her the assurance tliat her sky was clear, and her soul happy. Her children stood around her bed. The withered face shone with a brightness that could have come from no other source than heaven. Mr. Johnson knelt down to pray; prayed a while, and sorrow choked his utterance; a^-ain proceeded, and again was stopped by the flood of grief that welled up from his great and loving heart. This he did the third time, when all in the house, as if with one consent, burst forth into violent sobs and convulsive weeping; making, altogether, the most complete scene of uncontrollable sorrow that I ever saw. And it was lit and right, fori never knew a more aflVdionute mother, nor one that was regarded by her children with so tender a veneration. But the struggle was soon over, and she passed
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. 121
away (o lier everlasting rest. She was buried oa llie following clay, with every token of filial love and giief.
Daring the last three weeks that we spent here, oar habe was suffering very greatly and constantly from a "rising" on the knee, lie could scarcely bear to bo moved, and with all my attentions, I could scarcely get him an liour's quiet rest in the t\venty-four. I was much hurried' at the same time to make up the cloth I had just woven, so as to be ready for the trip to Conference and to father's, and 1 had no help about either nursing or sewing. The child usuallj' slept best in the- latter part of the night, and I had to rise about 2 o'clock to make the most of this opportunity to work; and then my light was such as I have already described — a piece of saucer fdled with " skimmings," and having a strip of soft rag for a, wick. Yet, 'by persevering cllbrts, I succeeded in comideting m\' work by tlic end of the year. And I must say of my work for that year, that 1 don't think it would be possible for any one to accomplish it with much less strength of body or of determination than I brought to the task.
^Uf
122 RECOLLECTIONS OF
CIIAPTEU XVI II.
MR. JOHNSON ON LIVINGSTON CIRCUIT, IN KENTUCKY.
I REMAINED at fhtlior's wliile ]Mr. Johnson attended Conference, ^Yhicll was held at Franklin, Tenn., in October, 181G. Mr. Johnson was appointed to Liv- ingston Circuit, and his Presiding Elder was James Axley. Axley had been in this vicinity in passin'^* from other appointments to the home of his fother in Livingston county. A^hen my father met with him, after he came upon the District, he said, "James, I suppose they have made thee Elder?" "Yes," said Axley, in the slow, deep tones peculiar tQ the man, and so full of humor when he wished ; "they were bad olf!" I then approaclicd, and offered him my hand, saying, "Jirother Axley, have you forgotten me?" "No," said he, in comic re- proachfulncss, "but you went and got married ! "
AVc were greatly pleased with the appointment for this year, and yet it proved to be a year of exces- sive labor, privation, and anxiety to me. Mr. John- son niade an arrangement with CJcorge Simms for a room, somewhat like that which lie had made with Mr. White in the former part of the preceding vear. This, too, was in the same neighborhood
THE REV. JOHN JOUNSOxV. 123
■williMr. AVhite — tliat is, not more tlian a couple of miles distant. On leaving White's the precedingyear, 1 told onr class-leader to let my name stand on the class-book, and when he came to it, to ask the class lo pray for me. I was glad, when I found that our lot wa3 cast in the same vicinity, that ni}' name had not been removed.
Little occurred to disturb the even tenor of our
lives for two or three months, when Mr. Johnson
bought a little farm, about live or six miles uortli
of I'rinccton, Ivy. He liad long been laying up
money out of our scanty receipts, for the purpose
of securing a home, and an opportunity occurring
for him to purchase this place — known as the ]3odds
place — on good terms, he considered it the best he
could "do to buy it. Here we promised ourselves
much happiness, having, for the first time, a home.
True, we had but a poor cabin to live in, and little
to put in it, yet there was a pleasure in feeling that
it was ours. "\Ve were not able, for a long time, to
buy any thing in the form of furniture, as wc
needed all our means to get " a little start of stock."
Every cup has its ingredient of bitterness. AVe
t lived, indeed, in the bounds of Mr. Johnson's work,
1 but his circuit was about forty-five miles in extent
1 — in diameter, I mean — and he had an appointment
for nearly every day. He was, in consequence, al)lc
to be at home only one night in two weeks, and
then he had to ride twenty miles to reach his next
api>ointmeut. Tlie house whore we lived was a
j niile from the nearest neighbor's, and one and a
half to two miles from houses in other directions;
r^
124 RECOLLECTIONS OF
and there was an air of loneliness aljout tlic place that made my heart sick; and to make the dreari- ness of my situation more terrible, I was not in a condition in which it was safe to be long and en- tirely alone. Mr. Johnson generally arranged to have a girl— white or black— to stay with me, j though they were generally small and of little I service to me.
i Kever shall I forget the first visit 1 made from
I this place to father's. We had not been absent
' more than a couple of months in the solitudes, but
I on coming within sight of the old home, so many
I recollections of former happy days rushed into my
I mind, so many memories of recent days of toil and
■| anguish that, utterly overcome, I burst into tears
and sobbed aloud as we rode along the old famil- iar wa3'.. I remained for a month, and returned to ! ■ our wilderness home with a little cherub-daughter I in my arms. As the son liad received my father's
I name, the daughter received that of Mr. Johnson's
mother — Elizabeth Foster
Words can hardly tell how drearily my days passed, alone in the woods, and not a person to bo seen from week to week but two or three little chil- dren ; for the only liclp that we were able to em- ploy vvas generally a child. Spring soon came around. Though I suppose the sun shone as ■ brightly, and the birds sang as clieerily, there as elsewhere, yet it seemed to me tliat the sounds I heard the most were the moanings of the doves by day, the whirring of the frogs at dusk, and the min- gled notes of the owl and whip-poor-will by night.
-^^k
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSOX. 125
Mr. JoJmsoii labored assiduously on his farm,
tiiough lie liad but little time to do it. lie resolved
to raise a crop— no easy task with twenty-eight ap-
pointmcnts to fill and three hundred miles to travel
111 the course of every month. He changed some
ol' his appoi)itments, so as by preachino:^twice on
one day in every week, to have two davs at home
m two weeks, lie tried to arranire those so as to
have moonlight nights at home. Xo sooner could
he reach home than he hastened out into the field,
and, if the moonlight lasted so long, labored till 10
ov 11 o'clock, or even till 12 at night. At other
times ho retired early, and was out at his plow from
tu-o to three liours before day, when the moon was
HI Uio wane. In this way he managed to repair the
Ixnldings and fences, clean up the grounds, and
^vlth his own hands raise fourteen acres of corn,
tv.-o acres of tobacco, and an abundance of ve-cta-
blcs for the table. "^
Much of the time when he was at home I would i'asten tiirough my morning's housework, would o-q ;"it into the field or the "patch," leave our little I'oy and his baby-sister on a blanket or an old piece |; quilt, and labor side by side with Mr. Johnson "I time came for me to run home and prepare our ''•'igal meal. Mr. Johnson insisted that I should i-f^rnain at the house. I told him I was both willino- «'"l able to help him, that I did not know what o!- J'^;"^^- to do when ho was absent, and besides, that I ^^ '^hed to be, as much as I could, in his companv. ^^'ily a mother can know any thing about my feel- '"Ss as I returned from my round of labor, ilnishod
126 RECOLLECTIONS OF
rny "row," and clasped the little, helpless, dcseitcd-
I looking hnbe to raj^ bosom !
I Mr. Johnson, from his conversion to his death,
I never failed to kneel by his bedside in secret prayer, both morning and night. lie labored so hard and
I incessantly through the day that he Avas often too much exhausted to sleep. Sometimes, however, after hard labor from before daylight till late at night, he seemed to be almost asleep upon his feet; , and on more occasions than one, he fell fast asleep
I . while kneeling for secret prayer at the bedside. After he had remained so long upon his knees that I was sure he was asleep, I proceeded to waken him, with such mingled emotions that I scarcely knew whether to laugh or to weep.
We scarcely saw any company at all, except at long intervals some preacher on his way to a quar- terly meeting. Of these, perhaps none came oftencr than our Elder, Brother James Axley, and certainly none could be more welcome than he. Always so- cial, always kind, always religious, it was always a pleasure to be in his company. On one occasion when he came, I had no help but a careless and idle girl, M-hose principal business was smoking dried leaves in a cob-pipe. AV'e had a pleasant evening in Axley's company; in the night, however, I was attacked with what is commonly known as "Aveed in the breast," and next morning was very sick. I arose and prepared breakfast, my whole frame burning with fever, and 0, how painful Avas my head ! Our supplies were scanty enough, and I sent the girl to milk, that I might sooner have breakfast
:^f-^^
* THE TEV. JOHN JOHNSOX. 127
rcatl y, and liave the milk for the tal)le. After a long stay, slie came swinging the empty pail, and laugh- ing immoderately at the cow's having kicked over all the milk. Still, I did the best I could, and tried to be cheerful. Brother Axlcy, who was a man of tender sympathies, seeing that I was unwell, in- quired what ailed me, and on my telling him, he said, "Well, Sister Johnson, your time is too hard! " Then turning to ]\Ir. Johnson, he added, earnestly, "Brother Johnson, your wife's time here is too hard ! it is too hard ! If I was you I would not go oft" and leave her; I'd stay with her when she's sick, anyhow!" Mr. Johnson looked exceedingly' sad ; so I tried to look as cheerful as possible, and told him to go on and trust to Providence, as, no doubt, I'd soon be well again. Still, as he bade me good-bye, and started awa^^, his voice trembled, and I saw tears running freely down his face.
The autunin was at this time far advanced ; we hml .^oveial head of cattle, sheep, and hogs, which it was necessary to feed, and our corn was yet ungath- ered in the field. To gather enough corn to feed the stock morning and evening, suited the Tomboy disposition of our girl pretty well, and aided me much; but in less than a week after Brother Axley and Mr. Johnson left, the girl went away, and all this work devolved upon me. The weather was, for the season, very cold, wet, and disagreeable. I got U}» and made my fire every morning, seldom — as every nursing woman will understand — Avith dry clothes; prepared my little, frugal meal of corn- bread, meat, milk, and cold vegetables; hurried
128 RECOLLECTIONS OF
tlirong-h the old routine of Jiouscwork, and got ready for tlic labors of the day. And the first task was to trust one child to tlie care of the other, hasten to the field and gather corn to feed the stock. I had, for want of better conveniences, to gather it in my apron, bring it to the fence— a tall fence with stakes and riders— pitch it through the fence, climb over and gather it up, and finally, distribute it to the stock. It took two trips of this kind every morning, and two every evening, to get out feed for all ; and between trips J ran to the house for a hasty glance at the poor children, to see if all was safe. ■ In due time Mr. Johnson came around, borrowed a wagon and team, hired a boy, and housed the corn. He also engaged the boy to come over daily and feed the stock.
THE IlEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 129
CHAPTER XIX.
SECOND YEAR ON THE SAME CIRCUIT.
The Conference was good enough to send Mr. Johnson back to the same work the following j-ear. TJiis saved us from sacriiScing the little property we had accumulated, and still allowed '^h\ Johnson to be at home once in two weeks. His work was not diminished, and the scanty receipts from the circuit were not sensibl}^ increased. I find the fol- lowing memorandum of receipts for three cpiartcrs, from which I suppose that he must have received about §G0 in the course of the year: "Adams's, 81 50; Xcaly's, .50; Jarrel's, .50; Minner's, ^2 00; llohson's, $1 25; Hail's, §2 00; Traylor's, $1 50; Young's, §1 75; Cochran's, .25; total, first quarter, $11 25. Second quarter— Reed's, $1 25; Sand Lick, .75; Rhodcs's, $1 00; Cochran's, .25; Xealy's, .50; Mitchell's, ^1 50; Young's, §1 00; Hail's, $2 50; Jarrel's, .50; total, §9 25. Third quarter— Adams's, $1 50; Young's, $2 50; Ilobson's, $2 75; Brown's, §5 00; Hail's, §52 37i-; Rhodcs's, U 12^^; Traylor's, .50; Xealy's, .75; Jarrel's, $1 25; Rec"d's, $2 G2J ; total, $20 -37^." The other preaching-places arc marked .
^Vg had little to live on — little, I moan, except
130 RECOLLECTIONS OF
the meat, bread, and vcgclaLIos that wc raised on tlio farm; and I saw or licard but little of the worhl. A preacher stopped now and then, seldom anybody else ; and the only luxury "vve ever indulged was a cup of coiFcc on such occasions. !Mr. Johnson would buy a dollar's worth — one pound of coffee and two of sugar — about once in two months, and most of the time this scanty supply lay untouched upon the shelf.
The first winter of this second year was unusually cloudy and dismal. Never shall I forget one day of special gloom. I was very unwell, and the clouds were thick and dark, and the snow was fall- ing so fiist that I could scarcely see any object a dozen rods. Mr. Johnson, too, was far from being well; and for the first time, I begged him, for his own sake as well as for mine, not to go. lie said that, if he staid a day longer, he must disappoint a dozen congregations; and if taken down sick upon the way, he should at least feel that he had done all he could. Tears went coursing down my face in spite of my cflorts to keep them back. I "fixed him up" as comfortably as I could, and he started, groaning heavily, and ever and anon brushing aside the drops that blinded his eyes; and I was alone with the babes. It really seemed to me that I could not bear to be so long alone, in such dreary weather and in such a dreary place. After he was gone, I •washed and dressed the children, "cleaned up the house," as we expressed it, and then went out beside the house, and none but God can ever know with what tears of bitter anguish I poured out my soul
THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. 131 j
Leforc liim. Then a rcpijiing feeling would come ; over me, and I wished that I had never left the I happy liome of my childhood, so bright in memory ] in contrast with the gloom of the present. Finally, | I came into the house, hoping the Lord would guide J inc lo some comforting promise in his blessed word. j I took up the Bible, opened it, nnd the first passage ? my eye rested npou was — Eccl. vii. 10 — "Say not > thou, What is the cause that the former days were j better than tliese? for thou dost not inquire wisely ,^ concerning this." I felt rebuked, earnestly be- ! sought the Lord to forgive me and grant mc a spirit of resignation, and even there, in our lonely cabin, | amid the gloom of the desert, I realized that there ^ is no spot of earth so dark but v/hen God saj's, "Let j there be light," there is light.
I was very subject to what we called sick-headache, | the jtaroxysms very greatly affecting my mind, my I vi.^ion, and in fact my whole system. One whole j day I suflered from a severe attack; and ]\[r. John- i Kon and Brother Axley came in at evening, Axley, j of course, on his way to a quarterly meeting. I told ; them liow I had been suflering, and remarked that even then my voice sounded strange to me as if it were not I that was speaking, and cvcrj' thing I saw Rcemed to be at an immense distance from me. Axley seemed to pay no attention to this remark, and after an early supper I went to bed. Of course, as we had but one room in the house, our K'lest was to occupy it with us, a tempoi-ary parti- tion being supplied by hanging up a sheet between the beds. Axley and Mr. Johnson sat up long, con-
, 132 RECOLLECTIONS OF
versing by tlic fire. Mv. Johnson told Axlcy that
he had to preach the funeral of old Brother Trovery,
and was requested to take the text, "Thy sun shall
no more go down," etc. lie asked Axley to give
him some thoughts upon it. lie accordingly began,
i and I think I never heard such a strain in my life
i as he poured forth, in his own solemn, slow, and
I measured cadences, for about half an hour. .He,
I and Mr. Johnson, and myself, all grew happy as he
j dwelt upon that blessed relief from pain and sorrow.
"Then," said he, turning to me as I lay, "then,
Sister Johnson, wc won't see things away off, after
I we taste the leaves of that tree that is for the healins"
i of the nations; and our voices won't seem strange
•j to us, without it 's from the way they ring with the
1 music of glory !"
f The labors of the circuit, the field, and the house-
I hold for this year, were but a repetition of those of j the last ; but there was one night of trial, an account of which I beg leave to give.
An old woman came to our house one day, and
j proposed to stay with me for nothing, except, in-
j deed,' her victuals. She looked like a grave, quiet
j old lady, and I was glad to have her stay. She was
' very large and fleshy, weighing, I should suppose,
over two hundred pounds. She was quite taciturn,
seldom uttered a word, but was kind and agreeable,
and would ply her knitting or cards from morning
till night. I never did learn what her name was,
where she came from, where her friends lived, or
what she expected to do in the future. Indeed, I
soon began to regard her with a kind of supcrsti-
THE llEV, JOHN JOHNSON. 133
lious fear, as if not feeling quite sure that she was really a liuman being.
She liad been with me but a few days, and Avas one evening sitting under a tree in the yard knit- ting, for it was one of those very pleasant days that sometimes visit us in early spring. {She had Iteen sitting there for two or three hours, when, about sundown, I looked out, and she had either left her chair or fallen from it, and lay prostrate upon the grass— the green and dry together making a tliick coat of it upon the ground. I went out to rouse her, supposing she had iallen asleep, and found her com- pletely insensible, and her breathing very slow and heavy. I knew not what was the matter, nor Avliat to do. I suppose her affection was apoplexy, ]>iit this I then knew nothing about. Every etlort to rouse lier being in vain, there was no resort Iclt uic but to tr^' to get her into the house as she wa.-^.
The sun was now down, and feeble as I then was, it was out of the question to thiidc of carrying two children a mile, and threading alone the il)otputh through the woods in the dusk of evening. ])ut ■what could I do witli two hundred or two liundrcd and forty pounds? Yet the trial m.ust be made. 1 lifted one limb at a time, then taking hold of Irt arms, tried to pull her toward the house. Moving the head and then the feet, I gained ground slowly, but at last got her to the door. Exerting all my power, I raised her to a sitting posture, tumbled her in at the door, and, after many cliorts, succeeded in dragging her in upon the floor. The best that was practicable then was to make a pallet and roll
: 134 llECOLLECTIONS OF
her upon it, and there let her lie in peace, for I : every moment expected her to die, and that I should I have to sit up alone with the dead.
In the pause that ensued after making her as com- fortable as I could upon the pallet, I heg-uu to real- [ jze the horrors of my situation. Always timid in ' the night, a mile from any other family, no candle or other light, not much wood, nobody to help me, alone with two little children, and with a mysterious [ stranger that I was afraid of and believed to be I dying! But I liastily gathered a little light-wood and brush to start a light in the night if needed, i and ate a few morsels of cold bread and milk for my I supper.
.! By the time I had got the children quietly to bed, I and turned to see if I could do any thing for the I poor woman, her slow and heavy breathing had I ceased, and I was appalled to find her dead ! If I j was afraid of her while living, I was horrified at her I now as she lay, a huge, unwieldy corpse, dimly dis- ; cernible in the faint light of the few coals upon the licarth. Fearful of becoming insane, 1 tried to I compose myself, and la}^ down to sleep. Xo — not I to sleep! After lying for an hour or so, as I verily ! believe on the verge of insanity, I was startled by I that most terrible sound that ever fell upon a moth- i er's car — the unmistakable breathings of croup! ; My fire had burned down, I had no candle, no lamp — matches, of course, were unknown; and I had no earthly remedy at hand. Uttering a heart-felt prayer for mercy, I sprang up, raked out the coals from the ashes with in tj fingers, and hurriedly made a little
TIIK IlEV. JOIIN JOHNSON. 135
firc of my brubh-woocl. I then ran frantically into the garden in the pitchy darkness, stumbling and braising myself at almost every step, and by feeling, or rather scmtch'mg, about, I found some ground-ivy and other herbs that wc used for nearly every kind of sickness. To bring these in, and pick out the Avccds l)y the light of a feeble blaze that had Jiow sprung up, and to prepare the tea, was the work of a few minutes; and the use of this tea, with bathing and friction, was all that I was able or knew how to do.
My boy's breathing now became exceedingly diili- eult, and so loud it might have been heard at the distance of fifty yards or more. It would liave been no surprise whatever for any breath to have been his last. Mothers ! can you conceive the fear and a]]guish that wrung my heart in that fearful hour? To make matters still worse, my baby awoke, and from that time till daylight I spent every moment citlicr in tryii^g to quiet my baby, or in trying to do Bomething to save the life of my boy, who I still believed was going to die. At some time in the night, a loud, unearthly moan came from what I had supposed to be the corpse of the woman; and I ^believe this frightened me as much as any thing that occurred that night. It was as frightful to be in doubt whether she was dead or alive, as to be sure that she was dead.
The night slowly Avore away, ^ly boy AS'as sojuo better, and the woman, to my surprise, was still filivc. After a liasty breakfiist of cold scraps, weak nnd exhausted as I was, I took one child on cnch
13G RECOLLECTIONS OP
arm and walked to our neighbor's to ask for help.
j He came back with me, and wc found tlie old
• woman d^ing. She lingered through the day, and
died about sundown. The neighbor went away to
get help, as he said, to sit up with the corpse. He
j failed to return, however; and there I was, with no
! company but my babes, one of whom was yet sick,
and no light but the feeble glimmer of the fire; and I had had so little time to collect wood, that two or three times I had to leave my babes and run out into the darkness to gather sticks. And, dear reader, being by nature one of the most timorous creatures in the world, no heart can know how I was tortured with fears that night! Xext day, the neighbors came in, made a box, and gave her an
[■ unceremonious burial.
j ■ I was afraid to ask Mr. Johnson to locate; indeed,
I durst not do it. My hardships and distress over- ■ came me. My hopes of a settled home and its joys were blasted and gone. 1 was utterly disheartened. Hysteria took hold upon me, with frequent chokino-s and pains about the stomach or epigastrium the most insupportable that I ever felt. I had carefully concealed the mental and physical pain that I suf- fered, but Mr. Johnson saw that I was wearino* awav, more than suspected the cause, and had determined to locate. Without saying a word upon the subject to me, he had arranged all his business to quit the itinerant life.
His last round was at length completed, and he liad a few days to work on the farm witliout inter- ruption. The day on which he must start to Con-
TUE EEV. JOUN JOHNSON. 137
fercncc, if he went at all, was at hand : he said nothing about going, and I suspected his design. Mr, Johnson went out to liis work. I went to m}^ place of secret devotion, and earnestly, from a full heart, besought the Lord to guide nie into the way I ought to pursue. I returned greatly comforted, went out with a light heart to where jSIr. Johnson was building what we called a fodder-house for the benefit of the sheep in winter, and the following conversation took place :
"jMy dear, are jou not going to Conference?"
"Why, no, child; I have made all the arrange- ments necessary to locate, and there is now no necessity for me to go."
"jS^ow, Mr. Johnson, do you really intend to lo- cate? I am afraid you will regret that step after you take it."
"Wliy should I? I can still preach; and it is too hard for you and our precious little ones to lead Bo lonely and comfortless a life, and I do n't intend y(»u shall do it if I can help it. I can't stand it any longer. My heart has ached many a time for your sulferings, and I intend to stay at home and make you and the children a home as comfortable as I can make it."
"a^ow, Mr. Johnson, I have no idea that you'll be satisfied. After the press of your work is over, and you have a little time for reiiection, I have no doubt you will long to be in the work again. So you had better go along to Conference, and let the good Lord take care of me and the children."
"My dear, how can I. go? I've already sent up
138 liECOLLECTlONS OF
my request for a locatiou : if I go, I ought to start day after to-morrow morning; and you see I cau't even get this Ibddcr-liouse done to-day."
"I cau help you. I can help you carry out the fodder and tops tliat are yet in the field, and I can hand thoni up to you as well as anybody, so you can get it done to-day. Then the crop will all be safe, for a while at least, and you can go to Conference as well as not."
" What then ? AVhom could I now get to stay with 3'ou till I go and return ? I have received but little I this year, and have spent nearly all of it in getting y a few things, and repairing the houses; and I do n't believe I 've got enough left to bear my expenses to Conference."
"Well, Brother Rhodes's boys will feed for us, and I '11 go and stay at fother's. Or, as I would like to pay your relatives a visit, I ^^'ill cook enough to- morrow for us to eat on the road : we can stop at Brother Overshiner's at Ilopkinsville, and our ex- penses will hardly amount to any thing."
After a pause and a few minutes' rellection, with some surprise that I should favor his continuance in the itinerancy, Mr. Johnson said :
"Well, I'll go. I'm determined to locate; but I'll go to Conference."
So, throwing down a few bundles for the children to tumble upon, we worked that day with might and main, and got tho f(.)ddor-houso done, and all the fodder and tops secured ; and by an hour by sun on the appointed day, we Avere all in the old gig rumbling — or rather, rattling and screeching —
TlfE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. 139
along on the road toward Ilopkinsville. 1 went to ^ his rehitivcs in Sumner coui^tj, Tenu. — or what
remained of them, for two or three families had re- moved to Illinois — and Mr. Johnson went on to Conference.
i 140 RECOLLECTIOXS OF
CHAPTER XX.
MR. JOHNSON STATIONi:i) AT NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE.
Up to this time it liad never occurred to my mind that Air. Johnson was any tiling more than an ordi- nary preacher, thougli I knew him to he a good, a devoutly pious man. The events of this Conference, therefore, caused me no little surprise. The Con- ference met atiTashvillc on the 1st of Octoher, 1818, Bishop McKcndree presiding. The people of Xash- ville sent up an immense petition praying that the society in that city be made a station, and that John Johnson bo sent to take charge of it. If the latter part of the petition could not he granted, they wished to remain a part of the circuit, or be left without a preacher. They said they would sui>port Mr. John- son, but could not, and would not, support anybody else.
Bishop ^Slelvcndrce urged him to take the appoint- ment, as there was an opening for him to accom- plish good, to have his family comfortably situated, and to be with them. But Mr. Johnson persisted in his original design, took a location, came by after me and the children, and started immediately for home.
The first night we got to !Major Turner's, near
THE llEV. JOHN JOHNSON. 141