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The Trial Bryant Jen Download

The document discusses various ebooks available for download, primarily focusing on different interpretations and analyses of 'The Trial' by Franz Kafka and other related trials in history. It also includes a narrative about a religious encounter with a bishop, highlighting debates between Catholicism and Protestantism. The text captures the tension and excitement of a public discourse on faith and authority, culminating in a dramatic confrontation with the bishop.

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0% found this document useful (0 votes)
28 views34 pages

The Trial Bryant Jen Download

The document discusses various ebooks available for download, primarily focusing on different interpretations and analyses of 'The Trial' by Franz Kafka and other related trials in history. It also includes a narrative about a religious encounter with a bishop, highlighting debates between Catholicism and Protestantism. The text captures the tension and excitement of a public discourse on faith and authority, culminating in a dramatic confrontation with the bishop.

Uploaded by

wyzentr170
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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CHAPTER IX.
About this time an incident of peculiar interest took place. The Rev.
Mr. Q—— had invited me to visit the town of C——, and I had set a
day to be at his house. Late in the evening of the day appointed, I
arrived in the town; and while driving along the street, looking for
his house, I saw him standing on his portico, beckoning me to him.

As soon as I had alighted from my buggy, he gave me a cordial


shake of the hand, and said, “You have come just in time to see and
hear one of the greatest dignitaries in the state of Virginia.” I
observed that I was perhaps a little different from many others; that
I would not go a square to see a great man, unless he was a great
good man. “Well,” said he, “he ought to be a good man; he’s the
bishop of the Roman-catholic church for this state; and as he is the
first live bishop of the Holy Catholic church who has ever been here,
he is attracting a great deal of attention. He preached in the court-
house this morning, and it was crowded; and he is going to preach
here for several days and nights. He has one or two priests with him,
and they have come to plant a church here. Will you go and hear
him?” “Yes,” said I; “if you go, I will go with you.”

As soon as tea was over, we went to the court-house, and it was


crowded. In a little time the bishop arose, and without any
introductory services, gave out his text: “Thou art Peter, and upon
this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail
against it.” He went on to define “the gates of hell” as the various
Protestant sects, and wound up by trying to prove that Peter was
the first pope, and got the keys, and that the successors of Peter still
held the keys, and no one could enter heaven without going through
the Catholic church. His sermon was delivered with earnestness and
eloquence, and made a deep impression, as very few of all present
were well informed on those matters.

He made much for his cause out of the denominational strifes with
which that region had been afflicted, and I heard many say “Amen”
to some of his thrusts. He announced that he would preach the next
morning from the text, “Search the scriptures, for in them ye think
ye have eternal life, and they are they which testify of me.”

We returned to brother Q——’s, and sat to a late hour consulting


what we had better do. Here was a man of Jesuitical cunning,
misrepresenting Protestantism before a community ill qualified to
form correct opinions. I urged Mr. Q—— to contradict some of his
false statements; and after praying over the matter, we retired.

The next morning, at the appointed hour, the house was crowded,
though there were not one dozen Roman-catholics in the
community. Owing to the crowd, Mr. Q—— and I got separated. I
lost sight of him, and for want of a seat elsewhere, got up into a
window. In a little while the bishop announced the text, “Search the
scriptures,” and also announced that he would preach at night from
the text, “These were more noble than those in Thessalonica, in that
they searched the scriptures daily.”

The ground taken in this sermon was, that searching the scriptures
by the common people had led to all the religious heresies in the
world, and had raised up more sects than there were chapters in the
Bible. That there was but one true church, and out of all only one
could be right. That Protestants called Luther a great reformer, and
he was told there were no Lutherans in that town; consequently, if
Luther was right they were all wrong; and if they were right, Luther
was wrong, and could not be a great reformer.

He said the Catholic church could not be wrong; that she was
infallible; she was “the pillar and ground of the truth.” He pictured
the quarrels among Protestants in the most hideous manner, and
described a heaven full of such uncongenial characters, till the
picture was ridiculous; and I saw that many present were delighted
with it.

At the close of his sermon, or tirade against the Protestant religion,


he sat down. I rose up in the window, much excited, to see if the
Rev. Mr. Q—— would not call him to an account, when I was much
gratified to see the meek and gentle form of Mr. Q—— slowly rising
about the middle of the house. Said he:

“Bishop, you said in your sermon last night that there were now two
hundred millions of faithful Catholic children in the world, against
which the gates of hell could not prevail. Will you be kind enough to
tell us where they are?”

The bishop rose with a half-courteous and half-disdainful smile, and


said, “You need not ask me such a question as that; the regions they
occupy are all marked on your own Protestant geographies; your
little boys in the streets can point you to them, where they have
been marked in black lines,” and took his seat.

“Well,” said Mr. Q——, “I would prefer you would name the countries
to which they belong.”

He rose again with a most indignant frown. Said he, “I suppose it


would be rather humbling to one who calls himself a preacher to go
to the little boys for information, so I will name some, at least, of the
countries that are Catholic: France, Austria, most of Germany,
Hungary, and Poland; and we shall soon have England, as part of
the church there is only separated from us now by name; and Spain
and Mexico are ours entirely;” and he took his seat again.

“Well,” said Mr. Q——, “do you think we should gain any thing as a
nation by changing our Protestant religion for that of Mexico and
Spain?” and he took his seat.
The bishop arose still more indignant in manner, and said, “I really
cannot understand what you mean, sir, unless you refer to your
boasted liberties in this country; but if that is what you mean, sir, I
can tell you I would rather go to heaven from Mexico or Spain, than
to hell from the midst of all your boasted liberties.”

By this time the audience had become intensely interested. Said I,


“Mr. Bishop, I want to ask you a few questions by way of gaining
information. If I understood you right last night, you said your
church was infallible; that it never had erred, and never could err.”

He replied very indignantly, “I said, sir, that the Catholic church


never had erred, and never could err.”

“Well, sir,” said I, “it was once right to put Protestants to death for
their religion, and of course it is still right.”

He replied, “That is a Protestant falsehood, sir; the church never put


any one to death.”

Said I, “Sir, I can prove what I say by the faithful records of history.”

“Protestant authority—we could not admit such testimony, sir.”

“Well,” said I, “whether you admit it or not, the blood of martyred


millions is crying for vengeance, and the day of divine recompense
will erelong come.”

After a number of questions from Mr. Q—— and myself of similar


import, Mr. Q—— said, “The general opinion is that General
Washington and General Jackson died good men and went to
heaven. What is your opinion, bishop?”

He replied contemptuously, “Why, sir, we don’t pretend to know


whether they are in heaven or not; those are the secret things that
belong to God.”
“Stop, bishop,” said I, “you said last night that you held the keys of
the kingdom of heaven in your church, and that to you it was given
to open and shut the door; and I now demand of you as one of
these door-keepers, to tell us whether you have let in the immortal
Washington or not.”

In a few moments the call was coming from every part of the house,
“Tell us whether you have let Washington into heaven or not.”

The bishop tore his surplice off in a rage, and put out of the house
with one or two priests after him—the crowd following him, and
calling out, “Come back and answer the question about our beloved
Washington.” But he went on, ordered his horse, pronounced a curse
on the place, closed his meetings, and left the town. The excitement
of the crowd was most intense.
CHAPTER X.
I had now been in my second year of labor for some months, during
which I had made some long journeys, and seen some hard service.

I made an arrangement with Mr. M——, a very intelligent gentleman


whom I had employed a few months before as a colporteur, to
accompany me. The whole tour required us to travel near four
hundred miles. More than two thirds of the way the country was wild
and romantic, the population sparse and rude. Few thought it safe to
go unarmed.

On the day set I met Mr. M—— at C——, where he resided. To my


surprise he had provided a pistol for each of us. With some
persuasion I took one, but soon got it to the bottom of my saddle-
bags.

The first day we reached W——, where we found a young preacher


who had been waiting there some days for an escort over the same
route, fearing to travel the road alone. We all started in company
early the next morning, with the understanding that we had to reach
G——, a new county-town thirty miles distant, or lodge in the
woods. Nothing special occurred that day, except that an enormous
rattlesnake crossed the road before us and frightened our horses.
We called at the door of all the cabins we saw, and preached Christ
to the people, and gave them books. We reached G—— late in the
evening, and found a pious lawyer who had just moved there, and
owned the only Bible in the place. There were not a dozen families
in it. By breakfast-time the next morning we had supplied him with a
neat Sunday-school library, which he used to great advantage.
We were told we must ride thirty-five miles the next day, over
mountain paths, to reach a place of lodging—that there was one
house at thirty miles, but by all means to avoid that house. The
reasons I cannot give; nor an account of the dinner we tried to eat
that day.

As the weather was excessively hot, we left G—— by six in the


morning. We soon overtook a young man who was going some miles
our way, and agreed to be our guide as far as we went together. We
found him totally ignorant of sin, or a future state. He did not know
whether he had ever seen a Bible or not. Though he had heard men
preach, and seen them with a book in their hand, he could not tell
what book it was. He told us his father was a county surveyor, and,
he thought, a member of the church. I gave him a Testament and
some tracts, which he looked at with amazement.

About ten o’clock we came to a number of men at work cutting


timber out of the road, that had been blown down by a storm. On
inquiry, we found eleven families represented, only one of which had
a Bible. One or two others had lost their Bibles by having their
cabins burnt. We supplied all with books, and left one or two reading
for all the rest.

The want of dinner and the excessive heat of the sun brought on me
sick headache, and by four or five o’clock I could scarcely sit on my
horse. I told my companions it would be impossible for me to reach
the house we were directed to, and let the consequence be what it
would, I should be compelled either to lie out, or lodge in the vile
den of which we had been warned. The brethren seemed much
alarmed, but said they would not leave me. Several times I had to
alight, to prevent falling from my horse. Being thus detained, we
only reached this dreaded place about sunset.

There was a very large grazing farm, and a large double log-cabin
about the centre, with every appearance of plenty. As we drew near
the house we saw quite a number of men at work haying in a large
meadow. Every one seemed to be drunk. Such swearing and
hallooing I had never heard. Our prospects looked gloomy.

We rode up to the door, and found the landlord under the same
influence as those in the field. When we asked for lodging he
seemed glad to have customers, and soon had our horses cared for.

In a little time all the drunken rabble on the place were gathered to
the house, but such a set of men I have never seen before or since.
Supper was soon ready, and all invited in. The food was very rough,
but abundant. I was too sick to partake of it.

After supper I told the landlord that I was very sick, and must go to
bed; but as we were all religious men, and accustomed to pray in
our families night and morning, if he was willing, we would have
prayers. The very announcement produced silence in a moment, as
if some strange thing was about to happen. I requested him to bring
all into the house that would come, and in a few minutes the house
was well filled. I called on one of the brethren to read and pray; and
soon after I was in bed, unconscious of all around me till morning,
when I awoke as well as usual.

As soon as we were dressed I called on the old man to get our


horses. “Oh no, you must stay for breakfast, and pray again,” said
he. “Well,” said I, “if you will bring all in to prayers now, we will
attend to worship with pleasure.” In a little time the whole
household was present. I read a portion of Scripture, and made the
most earnest exhortation I could possibly do, and prayed. A more
solemn audience I never addressed.

As soon as breakfast was over, our horses were ready, when I asked
the old man for our bill. “Not one cent, sir,” said he; “you have
prayed plenty to pay for every thing you got. Every time you come
this way stop and get all you want, and pray, and it sha’n’t cost you
a cent.” We supplied all present with a book or tract, and left well
pleased on the whole with our visit.
During the day we called at all the cabins on our way. At one I found
a man who told me he was seventy years old, had seldom heard a
sermon, but that he had felt much concern about where he would be
in the next world, if there was one. He said he never had a Bible,
but would like to get one very much. I gave him a Testament and
tracts. He seemed very thankful, and listened with great attention to
all I had time to say.

At another house the woman told me they had a Bible, and plenty of
religious books. I asked to see what kind of books they were. When
she presented the stock, it consisted of an old copy of the history of
George Washington. She believed it to be a Bible, as no one about
the house knew a letter.

The same day we met a very aged man riding on a poor little pony,
with a small bag of meal under him. I handed him some tracts, for
which he was very thankful, when the following dialogue occurred.

“Have you any preaching in this mountain country?” “Sometimes we


have.” “Are you a professor of religion?” “Yes, I have been a member
of the church forty years.” “How are you supplied with religious
books?” “Well, we haven’t got none but two or three spelling-books
that I sent for many years ago to teach my children how to read.”
“Have you no Bible in your house?” “No, I never had one. I have
been trying to get a Testament for some time at the store; but it
costs seventy-five cents, and I am not able to raise the money.” This
was the regular price of a small Testament in that region at that
time, and seldom to be got even at that price.

Said I, “Is it not hard to live the life of a Christian without the Bible?”

“Yes,” said he, “but I can’t help it; for even if I was able to buy one,
it could not be got nearer than C——, which is forty miles distant. I
never expect to be rich enough to buy a whole Bible.”

My soul was stirred within me, and I drew out my pocket Bible, a
fine copy which I had received as a present, and gave it to him. He
looked for a moment at me with surprise, when the tears gushed
from his eyes, and he exclaimed, “I am now rich and happy.” This
man was seventy-five years old, and trembling on the brink of the
grave. This is a true picture of many cases found by colporteurs. I
never felt so well paid or so happy as when I gave that man my only
Bible.

During this whole tour of five weeks’ travel, many a scene similar to
those described occurred; while, on the other hand, I visited villages
and towns where I found fine churches and able ministers, with
highly cultivated pious congregations. In this tour I raised over $500
in donations, and employed three excellent colporteurs, one of
whom labored nine years. I met the most cordial coöperation from
Christians and philanthropists everywhere I went. All said, “This is
just what we need in this sparsely populated mountain country.”
CHAPTER XI.
While on this tour I visited the town of L——, near the centre of
Western Virginia, and made arrangements to remove there in a few
weeks. There are few towns of the size which I have ever visited
where I have met with a more noble people. There was wealth,
intelligence, and the highest degree of refinement. This town
became the centre of my operations for three years.

The distance we had to go in moving there was about one hundred


and fifty miles, up and down mountains most of the way, with scarce
any thing like a road in many places: a family of five, two of them
children, in a one-horse carriage, with the necessary equipage for
such a journey.

On the afternoon of the third day we began to ascend the Cheat


mountain, which required nine miles travelling to reach its summit,
and eight miles down the other side to its base, with only one house
all the way, and that on the top of the mountain, called at that time
“the mountain house of entertainment.” It was a large rude log-
house, without comfort. By the time we reached the top of it I found
my horse very much fatigued, and the sun about setting. We
concluded we could not descend the mountain that night with safety,
as there was no moon, and the whole way was through a dense pine
forest.

When we came to this house on the very top of the mountain, we


found a number of covered wagons that belonged to families moving
westward, and a crowd of people of all colors about the house. I
asked for lodging. “Yes,” said the landlord, “lodging plenty!” My
family went into the house, and I went to see my horse taken care
of. On my return I found them without any place to sit down. After
looking through the house, and finding but two or three apartments,
and such a crowd of people, I asked the landlord how he would
lodge us all. “Oh,” said he, “you can lie down a few at a time, and
soon as you get asleep I can stand you up against the wall.”

Though it was in September, and very warm in the valleys, yet it was
cold on the top of this mountain, and we were all shivering. I asked
the landlord, who by this time was playing the violin for our
entertainment, to make us a little fire. But there was neither wood
nor supper. The females were stowed away in one room for the
night, and the rest lay on the floor or sat by turns till the morning
came.

As we had no toilet to make in the morning, we were on the way


down the mountain at an early hour. The first house we reached was
a log-house, where they kept entertainment. All was neat and clean.
We called for breakfast; and while it was preparing, we had our
morning devotions, which had been noticed by the landlady. When
we came to our excellent breakfast, she asked me to christen her
children, of which she had quite a number. I told her I was not a
preacher, and had no authority to administer ordinances. She
insisted most earnestly that I must do it; that no one had ever
prayed there before, and she did not see any reason why any
praying man could not christen children; that they had been living
there for years, and never heard a sermon or seen a preacher as
they knew of; and if I would only do it, they would not charge me
one cent for breakfast. After preaching them the best sermon I
could, and giving a good supply of little books, we went on our way.
In two more days we reached L——, our place of destination, in
safety, and in a few hours had a house rented and were living in it.

For three years I travelled almost constantly; sometimes in a buggy,


but mostly on horseback, making from six to eight thousand miles
each year, distributing tracts and books in cabins and mansions,
collecting money, and employing men, till I had the cooperation of
over fifty colporteurs. The many interesting facts and incidents which
occurred during these years would fill a large volume. A very few of
them I shall attempt to relate.

A Mr. W——, whom we had employed for some years, a man of


much more than ordinary piety and qualifications for the work, while
visiting in the mountains, came to a poor cabin occupied by a man,
his wife, and an only son. They were very poor. The father made his
living by grubbing, and took the boy with him to pick the brush, he
being at this time about sixteen years old. They carried home their
wages on their backs, mostly in some kind of food. The mother
made what she earned by her spinning-wheel; and while at that,
had taught her son to read the Testament, though she was not
religious. Mr. W——, after talking and praying with them, gave this
boy a copy of Baxter’s Call, which was the means of his conversion.
Before he could join the church, the neighbors aided in getting him a
suit of clothes.

He immediately set about to improve himself in every possible way.


There was no school near; and if there had been, he had no means
to go. His first efforts in learning to write were, by copying the
letters out of a book with his finger in the snow. He borrowed and
read all the books he could get, and attended a little church where
there was preaching once each month.

About two years afterwards I received a letter by some private way


from this same boy, D. W. S——. On opening it, I made out its
contents with some difficulty. It was an application to become a
colporteur. In the letter he referred me to the Rev. Mr. R——, who
lived in town. I went to him, showed him the letter, and asked him if
he knew the writer. He laughed: “Yes, very well; I received him into
the church. D—— is a good boy, but he is without education, and
knows nothing of the world; he has never been ten miles from home
in his life.”

I wrote the young man a kind letter, saying I hoped he would make
a colporteur some day, and advised him to go to school a while.

The next thing I heard from him was a rap at my door. When I
opened the door, an awkward-looking youth near six feet high stood
before me, with the same suit of clothes on him he had got over two
years before. The pants were several inches too short, and the coat-
sleeves as deficient; indeed, the coat was little more than a big
patch on his back. Said he, “I am the fellow that wrote you a letter
about wanting to colport, and I have come to see about it.” I invited
him into the house. He was all in a tremor of excitement. When I
opened the parlor door he looked in with amazement, and in walking
to a seat avoided stepping on the white spots in the carpet, which
was the first one he ever saw. He was so embarrassed he could
scarcely speak.

After talking a little while about crops, etc., he became composed.


He then told me his desires to do good, and all about his conversion,
which was entirely satisfactory. As it was late in the evening, I
invited him to stay for the night; and by the time we got his poor old
pony of a horse, not worth five dollars, put away, tea was ready.
When he sat down he looked confused. I had much conversation
with him that evening. At length I invited him up stairs to bed. On
the way up he held by the railing to avoid treading on the narrow
carpet in the centre.

In the morning he was up whistling psalm tunes bright and early. As


soon as I was dressed I called him and told him I had reflected over
the matter very carefully, and had come to the conclusion that his
want of education and knowledge of the world would not justify me
in employing him.
I saw his countenance change in a moment and the tears start in his
eyes. “Oh,” said he, “I do want you to give me work, for I do feel
that all I want to live for is to work for Christ.”

I cannot describe my feelings as he uttered these words. Here was a


depth of devotion beyond any thing I had met. After some minutes’
silence I said to him, “There is a region of country on the head-
waters of the Elk river where there never has been any preaching; if
you will go there a month without any commission, I will see you are
paid.”

His countenance was changed in a moment, and lit up with joy. In


less than two hours I had a pair of colporteur’s saddle-bags filled
with books and tracts, and he was on his journey to that destitute
region, some forty miles distant. Soon after, some stock raisers who
had been in that region buying cattle, told me they heard that the
Tract Society had a great man out there; that the people were
wonderfully pleased with him; that he was giving them books, and
teaching them to read them.

At the end of the month he returned, all his stock had passed into
the hands of the people, and he gave me a glowing account of the
people’s wants and his success. He said it would take another month
to get over that region, and he wanted to go back. After aiding him
to dispense with his boy clothes, I started him with another load of
books, cautioning him to avoid showing off his new suit as much as
possible.

Another month’s work was done with great success, when he


returned almost a new boy in his whole appearance. He had gained
confidence by being constantly among people that did not know as
much as he did.

I then had him commissioned for P—— county, a very mountainous


region, and very destitute of the means of moral improvement. In a
few months he had visited every family in the county. In many
families the bare mention of his name will start tears in the eyes of
the people, and the tracts that he distributed have been sewed
together and covered with deerskin as remembrances of the man
that left them.

Often through the day when he would come in sight of a cabin, he


would alight from his horse and kneel in the woods and plead with
God for success in his visit.

He next visited the counties of M—— and R——, two large counties,
with remarkable success. By this time he became a fine-looking
young man, and by his constant application to reading the books as
he rode along, he had become an intelligent, spiritual Christian.

We then sent him to the large county of P——, where there was in
portions of it a high degree of intelligence and refinement.

In a few months he was licensed to preach the gospel. He married a


lady of high moral worth, and settled in the county of H—— over
four weak churches. In two and a half years he received over two
hundred persons into the church on profession of their faith; then
took typhoid fever, with which he soon died in the triumphs of a
living faith.

Since his death I have met with five young men, who are now
ministers of the gospel, who had been led to Christ by his labors, all
of whom speak of him as an extraordinary man in point of piety and
usefulness.

Here was a boy that in all probability would have lived and died in
ignorance and sin if he had not been found by a colporteur. He has
often put his hand on my shoulder, and said with tears in his eyes,
“Brother C——, if it had not been for the Tract Society, I should have
been a poor grubber to-day, on the way to death and ruin.”

The great secret of his success was his untiring zeal and industry. He
read and studied on his saddle; the shades of the forest were his
closet in the summer, and the cleft of some mountain rock in the
winter. His congregations were mostly ignorant families, and his
rostrum a three-legged stool in the corner. All his talents were put to
use in the Lord’s work, and no doubt he has his reward. Reader, go
thou and do likewise, and receive a like gracious reward.

On a Saturday evening while on my way to meet a Sabbath


appointment, while descending a mountain, I met a man on his way
home from mill, and offered him some tracts. “Oh,” said he, “they
are of no use to me, for I can’t read, and I have no one about me
that can.” I asked him if he had a family. “Yes, I have a wife and
seven children.” “It is a great sin,” said I, “for you to raise a family in
such ignorance.” “Oh,” said he, “there is so much harm in books,
they are better without them.” I handed him two or three tracts, and
told him to get some one to read them to him. One of them was,
Fifty Reasons for Attending Public Worship. He took them, and when
he got home showed them to his wife. “Oh,” said she, “we will be
ruined now. I’ll bet that is a warrant that Middleton has got the
sheriff to serve on you, and we will lose our land.” They spent a
sleepless night, and early next morning they went to the nearest
neighbor and told him they had got into sad trouble about their
land; that Middleton had served a warrant on them, and here it was.

The tracts were presented to a man who was a class-leader in the


Methodist church, and was my informer near a year after this
occurrence. He took the first one, “Fifty Reasons for Attending Public
Worship.” “Well,” said he, “this is a warrant, but not sent by
Middleton, but from the court of heaven. God has sent you this, as
you never go to church; and now you see how you have exposed
your ignorance by not being able to read, not knowing the difference
between a sheriff’s writ and a religious tract; and I do hope you will
now attend church, and have your children taught to read.” “Now,”
said my informer, “this man and his wife are both members of the
church, and they are sending their children to school as the result of
the influence of those tracts.”
On one occasion I left home by a stage-coach before daylight on a
long journey. We stopped after ten miles to take other passengers.
As usual, the way-bill was taken into the stage-office to enter their
names. A man was in the office who had travelled near one hundred
miles to see me at L——. Seeing my name on the way-bill, he asked
if that was the man that was the tract agent. About that time I
stepped in to warm myself and distribute tracts, when some one
acquainted with me told him I was the agent. He then told me how
far he had come to see me, and how near he was to miss me, all the
time interlarding his conversation with oaths, to the great
amazement of all present who knew the nature of my work. When
he was through, I told him I would tell him the nature of the work in
a few words: that he must get a good horse and a large pair of
saddle-bags, fill them with books, and ride over these rugged
mountains, and live on hard fare. With an awful oath he said he
could stand all that with any fellow about the diggins. In addition to
that, said I, you must read the Bible, and pray at every house. I
never saw a man so utterly confounded, while those present were
convulsed with laughter. I gave him a few tracts, and talked to him
till he wept like a child. Although I never heard of the man again, I
have hope that the conversation was not in vain.
CHAPTER XII.
About this time I held a Colporteur Convention in C——, in which a
number of colporteurs were present. The meeting was one of deep
interest. Many facts were brought out in relation to the wants of that
region, and the good resulting from the work, that were of the most
cheering character.

During the three days of our meetings, an old man was present who
was but little known to any that were there. When about to close the
convention, I said that if any one present wished to give us a word
of advice or exhortation we should be glad to hear it, when this old
man rose, trembling with diffidence, and said:

“As soon as I heard of this meeting I made up my mind to attend it;


and now I want to tell you what this Society has done for me. My
name is C——. Ten years ago I was considered the wickedest man in
this county. I was a profane drunkard. One day while at S——, about
four miles above this place, old Mr. R——, who was always
distributing tracts, handed me one with the word Eternity in large
letters at the head of it. I was the worse for liquor at the time, and
on my horse to go home, which was about fifteen miles distant. On
my way I took the tract out of my hat to read it. My attention got
fixed on the word Eternity, and I became alarmed about my state as
a sinner. By the time I got home I was nearly sober. I read and
reread the tract till I had it committed to memory. For near two
weeks I had no rest. At last my distress became so great that I did
not want to live. One day I was tempted to go away to the woods
and destroy myself. While there I thought of praying, for the first
time, and fell down on my knees and cried, ‘God be merciful to me a
sinner.’ In a moment I felt relief, and went home with a joyful heart,
and told my family all about the matter. I read the tract to them, and
began to pray with and for them. In six months I had a little church
built on my land, and a missionary there to preach once each month,
and myself, wife, and six of my children and eight servants were
members of it; and here is five dollars, all the money I have in the
world, to aid in giving good books to others.” All present were
bathed in tears at this recital.

As soon as he was seated, another man arose and said “he


supposed all present had heard of Father B——, who died a few
weeks ago, and many, no doubt, remember when he was a terror in
the community. He had remarkable bodily powers, and could whip
any man in all the country round. When the county of L—— was laid
off, there was a violent contest about where to build the court-
house; and the two parties agreed that B—— and another bully
should decide the matter by a fist-fight, and B—— gained the site
where that court-house now stands. He was often brought up at the
court for assault and battery, and had crippled some men for life.
Judge S—— on one occasion, when passing sentence on him, said,
‘B——, you have become too bad a man to live, and if ever you
come before me again convicted of crime, I will make you suffer for
it most severely. If you would improve the mind God has given you,
you might be a blessing to the world; but now you are a disgrace.
Here is a tract, ‘The Fool’s Pence;’ take and read it, and may God
lead you by it to be a better man.’ That tract was the means of his
conversion, and for the last fifteen years of his life he was one of the
most successful preachers in South-western Virginia.”

Another fact was brought out at this meeting by the Rev. Mr. W——,
who labored for some time as a colporteur in the county of W——.
He entered a large settlement where there never had been any
preaching, schools, or distribution of books. The Sabbath was the
special day for frolicking and dissipation. In the house where he
lodged on Saturday night, the family were busy preparing to go to a
shooting-match the next morning. All he could say had no effect on
them. After praying God to guide him in his duty, he determined to
go with them. When they came to the place, a large collection of all
classes were present, with a great number of articles to gamble for
in different ways. He told them, as it was the Lord’s day, he would
unite with them in prayer for God’s blessing. He prayed earnestly,
and then told them that if they would give him their attention he
would preach to them. They seemed confounded at this remark, and
all remained silent as death. He announced his text, and preached
with unusual liberty. The attention was solemn, and they looked at
one another with amazement. He then distributed among them his
remaining stock of books and tracts, and as he was very unwell,
went home. Soon after the news spread that some people in that
region were concerned about their souls. A preacher visited them,
and soon had a good congregation gathered, and over twenty
converts. Sunday frolicking was abandoned, and many were led to
observe the Lord’s day.

The same man stated another fact, which occurred in J—— county.
While visiting in one of those sparsely populated regions, he came to
a very large farm. He found the family to consist of the father,
mother, and twelve children, the youngest about eight years old. The
man was wealthy in land and stock, but to his surprise no one knew
a letter in a book. After talking to them about their relations to God
and eternity, he asked the father why he did not have his children
taught to read. The old objection was raised at once, that they
learned enough of bad without books; that he had got along very
well without reading, and so could his children.

He then began to read to them, showed them the pictures in the


Alphabet of Animals, and read them some account of them. Several
of the children said, “Oh, I wish I could read.” He then gave them
one or two books and some tracts. A few months after he was
coming back the same way, and called to pay another visit. “Well,”
said the old man, “you have give me a purty lot of trouble by leaving
them books here. I had no peace till I got a man to come and larn
them to read them.” So sure enough the teacher was there, and now
they bought more books freely.
In travelling through a wild mountain region, where I was a total
stranger, I came to a small village of about a dozen houses, with a
little store and tavern. Before I reached it, I heard men hallooing in
the most boisterous manner. When I drove up weary to the public-
house, I was surrounded with such a set of savage-looking men as I
never had seen before, and all intoxicated. Every man had on a
hunting-shirt, with a belt round him, to which hung a long butcher-
knife. I felt afraid of the men, I must confess, and would have been
glad to have been elsewhere, especially as my buggy and trunk
seemed to attract rather too much attention.

After I had got food for myself and horse, and laid round some
tracts as quietly as possible, I started, hoping to reach a point near
twenty miles distant that night. Some part of the way I was told the
road was very good, but mostly rough and mountainous.

As soon as I was out of sight, I drove rapidly, and made the first five
miles in an hour, when I began to breathe easier.

But all at once I heard the most unearthly yelling behind me that
had ever greeted my ears. My horse was frightened, and tried to run
off. In a few moments I heard the clatter of horses’ feet, and
concluded all was over with me. In a moment I was surrounded with
some eight or ten of the most desperate looking men, and told to
stop; that they wanted to know what I was loaded with. I told them
I was loaded with good religious books, which I was distributing
among people that had none. I was then ordered to give them all up
to them, and they would scatter them on the other side of the
mountain, for there were no books over there. I told them I knew
they were too generous to take all that I had.

I then told them to listen to me, and I would tell them what the
books taught. So I began and preached them the most earnest
sermon that I ever preached. One of them said, “Give me your hand,
sir, for I never had a preacher by the hand in my life.” I held his
hand firmly, and preached on, although the muzzle of his gun was
frequently in very dangerous proximity to my person.

It was evident they began to feel uneasy under my wayside sermon,


and for fear they would leave me without tracts, I began the
distribution, and gave each one a number of the most suitable I
could find. They invited me to come over the mountains and preach,
and I would get plenty to come and hear me. Some of those tracts
were found more than a year after by one of our colporteurs,
carefully preserved and highly prized.
CHAPTER XIII.
Another case that seemed more threatening than the last
mentioned, occurred soon after in the county of G——. I was on my
way to meet a Sabbath appointment. About two o’clock I came to a
river which was much swollen by the late rains. The man who kept
the ferry-boat lived on the opposite side of the river, where some
four or five men were pitching quoits and making a great noise. I
called a number of times before they even condescended to answer
me; and when they did answer, it was with curses, telling me they
would come when they were ready. I had then sixteen miles to go to
B——, the place where I expected to lodge. They kept me waiting
two hours before they came with the boat, consequently it was late
when I got over. They were drunk and very profane, charged me
four prices, and cursed me for troubling them. I gave them some
tracts, and the best advice I could.

Soon after I met two women: one seemed to be about thirty, and
the other sixty years old. I offered them some tracts, which they at
first declined, for fear I might be the sheriff. Neither knew a letter, or
could tell who was the Saviour of sinners.

Soon after I passed them a terrible rain came on, and the roads
were so deep my horse could scarcely draw my buggy. I saw night
would soon overtake me, and the prospect of lodging looked
unfavorable. I stopped at a cabin by the roadside to inquire the way,
and leave some tracts. A man came out who looked as if he was
ready for any crime, and came right up to my buggy, and began to
look in with a scrutinizing eye. He either could not or would not give
me any satisfaction about the road. After an earnest exhortation
about his soul, I gave him Baxter’s Call. All the conduct of the man
was of a very suspicious character.

It was now late, and raining hard, and in a little time would be very
dark. I drove on as fast as possible, until it began to get quite dark,
when I met a man on the road walking; whether he was a white
man or not, I could not tell. I stopped him to inquire if there was
any place near where I could lodge. He immediately began to
examine the inside of my buggy as fully as the darkness would
permit. He told me there was a man on the other bank of the creek,
about half a mile ahead of me, who kept lodgers, and that it was a
good place to stop. I handed him a book and thanked him, and
drove on, he following a short distance, asking me questions which
were not calculated to allay my anxiety.

I soon reached the creek, which seemed to be very high and rapid,
and it was so dark I could see no object on the other side of it. The
road entered by a narrow ravine, and there was no way to back out.
I lifted my heart to God for protection, and drove in. In a moment
the water was up in my buggy, but thanks to God, I got through
safely, and in a few moments my horse was standing by the door of
a miserable cabin.

I called, and a man came out with a torch of pine-knots in his hand.
He was both dirty and ragged. I asked him where the man lived that
kept lodgers. “Oh,” said he, “I am the man that keeps tavern here.”
My prospects were bad, but I could get no further. I asked him to
put up my tired horse and feed him. He had no stable but a rail-pen,
no feed but some sheaves of green wheat. He took me to another
cabin about fifty yards distant, that was as dark as a dungeon,
except so far as his torch gave us light. Although it was warm, I
requested him to make me a fire, which he did with reluctance.

After some time I was invited to the first cabin to supper. The man
and his wife and children, as well as the supper, were all dirty in the
extreme. I attempted to eat, but in vain. As soon as the man
finished his meal, we returned to the other cabin, where I conversed
with him. He was a total stranger to the simplest truths of the Bible.

I asked him if he knew any thing of the celebrated Lucas family of


that county. “Oh yes,” said he, “they live all round here. Did you not
meet a man as you came along to-night about the top of the hill
over the creek?” I said yes. “Well, that was one of them, and I
wonder they let you pass so late in the evening. That one, and the
one that lived in the house you last passed were the two implicated
in killing the man for which one of their uncles was hung at Giles
court-house, and if I had given in my testimony, they would have
been hung too; and I am afraid they will kill me, because I know all
about it.”

By this time I was considerably alarmed. The conclusion I came to


was that they were all linked together, and that I was in the
slaughter-house.

I then inquired all about old Randal Lucas, who was the father of
two that had been hung, and some others that were in prison, and
was the grandfather of the two he had just been telling me about.
He gave me a full history of the old man, much of which cannot be
told. “But,” said he, “such a man you never saw. He is ninety years
old. When he puts on a suit of clothes, he never takes it off till it is
worn out. In the winter he lies in the ashes, and in the summer he
lies down in the mire like a hog.” This is confirmed in Howe’s History
of Virginia, which relates how he sat under the gallows eating
gingerbread while his sons were hung. I refer the reader to that
history for an account of this wonderful man and his family.

The manner in which he told the whole story was any thing but
pleasant to me. He began to get sleepy, and told me he would hold
the pine-light while I got into bed up on the loft, as he called it. The
only way to get up was by a ladder made of a pole split in two, with
rounds put into it. I climbed up, and he followed me with the torch.
As soon as I got to the bed over the loose boards that covered the
floor, and found an old split-bottom chair, which I expected to use in
self-defence before morning, I told him to withdraw.

I lay down without undressing, after committing my soul, family, and


all my interests to God, without much hope of seeing the light of
another day. No one occupied the house but myself as a bedroom. I
kept watch till morning, and when any unpleasant sound was heard,
I made noise enough to let any one approaching know that I was
awake.

As soon as it was light I was up to see to my poor horse, which was


standing in mud and water six inches deep, without food. After
getting him some more green wheat in the sheaf, and a little corn
bread for myself, and talking and praying with the family, I left them.
I cannot say whether there was any intention to rob me or take my
life. I hope there was not.

When I was about two miles on my way, and was rising a mountain
where the road was scarcely six inches wider than my buggy, a man
met me, riding a poor old horse without a saddle, all in rags and dirt,
with nothing on him but remnants of a torn shirt and pants, with a
rope tied round his waist, and a bottle of whiskey in his bosom. Such
a looking piece of humanity I had never seen before. In a moment I
concluded this is certainly old Randal Lucas. I saw he could not pass
me on that narrow road, and I determined to have a full talk with
him. When we met he tried to keep the upper side of the road, and
get between my horse and the steep bank.

“Good morning, sir,” said I. “Good morning,” said he, in a very


unnatural tone of voice. “Don’t you want some good books to read
this morning?” “No, I don’t want any; I can’t read.” “Do you go to
church?” “No, I don’t care about church.” “Well, sir,” said I, “you are
an old man and must soon go to the other world.” “Yes, I am ninety
years old.” “Is it possible,” said I, “you are so old?” “Yes, I can prove
it.” “You would find but few witnesses to prove that by.” “Well, I can
swear it then.” “Well, sir,” said I, “what do you think will become of
you when you die?” “O well, I doesn’t care any thing about that.”
“Can you tell me who is the Saviour of sinners?” “I don’t know any
thing of them things.” “Well, sir, who made you?” “Why, I suppose it
was God Almighty.” “What is your name, sir?” “Randal Lucas.” “Well,”
said I, “I thought so,” straightening myself with a determined look.
“Well, sir, you say you don’t go to church, and I must tell you in the
name of my Master, that if you don’t repent you will soon be in hell.
I have read and heard of you, sir, for years, and you stand on the
brink of eternal burnings, and your soul stained with every crime
that a man could commit.” He began to look frightened, and tried to
pass me; but I kept my position, and for some minutes laid down
the terrors of the law in the strongest language I could use, and
then gave him some little books and tracts. He trembled like an
aspen leaf.

A few weeks afterwards he took up the idea that he was soon to die,
got a coffin made, tried it to see if it would fit, paid for it, and set it
up in his cabin—sent for a preacher, told him he was going to die
and did not know what would become of him, and asked him to pray
for him; offered him fifty cents, and said, “Pray on till my money is
done.” The money was of course refused. In a few days the poor
wretch died as he had lived, leaving a host of children the
descendants of unnatural and brutal connection.
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