<^^ 
 
 / 
 
 Columbia SlnitJf rja^itp 
 
 THE LIBRARIES 
 
 Bequest of 
 
 Frederic Bancroft 
 
 1860-1945 
 
Rev. L. Bellinger. 
 
STEAY LEAVES 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 PORT-FOLIO 
 
 OF A 
 
 METHODIST LOCAL PREACHER. 
 
 BY 
 
 KEV. LUCIUS BELLINGER, 
 
 OF SOUTH CAROLINA. 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE 4UTHOR, 
 By J. W. BUEKE & CO., MACGIST, GA. 
 
 1870. 
 
93 s. I 
 :B¥/y 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
 
 J. "W. BURKE A CO., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States fur the 
 Southern District of Georgia. 
 
 97'/Y~. 
 
*> 
 o 
 
 # 
 
 '^ M To MY Wife, 
 
 ^>. JANE BEUCE BELLmGEH, 
 
 N 
 
 ^ MY BEST EARTHLY FRIEND, WISEST COUNSELLOR, 
 
 AND 
 CONSTANT HELPER IN MY PILGRIMAGE TO A BETTER LAND; 
 
 AND TO 
 
 MY MANY FRIENDS, 
 
 *IN 
 
 South Carolina, North Carolina, and Georgia, 
 
 WITH WHOM I have OFTEN HELD SAVEET COMMUNION, AND 
 
 whose christian sympathies have cheered me in the 
 
 way to heaven, 
 
 This Humble Eecord of my- Wanderings, 
 
 IN THE Service of the Master, 
 
 is respectfully dedicated, 
 
 ^^ ^ By the AUTHOE. 
 
 J 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 The Author insists tliat the Editor say a word to the 
 Public, to introduce the " Stray Leaves." But there is 
 little need. The narratives here brought together, are not 
 altogether new to the Author's many friends ; and it is at 
 their solicitation that they were first committed to paper, 
 and, now, to t^'pe. The name and fame of the " Strange 
 Preacher," the love entertained for the " Wandering Arab," 
 the interest alreadj^ awakened in the " Stray Leaves," by 
 what is known of them by the numberless friends of the 
 Author, will guarantee this book a circulation, without a 
 Avord from the Editor to stimulate it. 
 
 It is proper to say, that the Editor has been embarrassed, 
 from the large amount of matter put into his hands with 
 the responsible privilege of following his own judgment, in 
 selecting from it the best material for the contemplated 
 volume. As pjj't of the purpose of the Author was, very 
 properly, to get some pecuniary profit from his book, thus 
 to repair the heavy losses of the war, its cost was to be 
 considered ; and had all the material put into the Editor's 
 hands been used, the book would have been too bulky to 
 be remunerative. In making the selection, the Editor has 
 been compelled to follow his own judgment; and he may, 
 therefore, have left out some "Leaves" which both the 
 Author and his friends would have preferred inserted. If 
 so, the full discretion given him by the Author must be 
 his w^arrant; and the peculiarities of his own taste and 
 judgment must bear the responsibility. 
 
EDITOR S PREFACE. V. 
 
 In other respects, the Editor's labor has been confined 
 principally to compressing into smaller compass what was 
 written currente calamo, by one not much accustomed to 
 writing, and whose excitable temperament naturally led 
 him into diffuse narrative. In this condensation, however, 
 whatever is characteristic of the Author — as a man, a 
 Christian, a friend, and a preacher — has been faithfully 
 preserved ; and the Editor flatters himself, that whoever 
 knows Lucius Bellinger, will tind him faithfully repro- 
 duced in these pages. 
 
 Wishing for the Author maiiy readers, and for his read- 
 ers much of that spirit of love for the blaster that glows 
 through these pages, this unpretending volume is com- 
 mended to a generous public. 
 
 E. H. Myers. 
 
 Macox, Ga., Feb. 1st, 1870. 
 
TON TENTS. 
 
 PAOK. 
 
 ].i:af J. — Birtli and Early Years — First Serious Convictions — How 
 
 they were liOst 9 
 
 Leaf II. — My Second Conviction — Stronger tlian tlie First — but 
 
 Lost in the same way ]5 
 
 Leaf IIL — My Third Conviction even more Powerful than the last — 
 
 Hell is Defeated — Heaven "J'riuniphs — I am Converted 22 
 
 Leaf IV". — The Dream that was Repeated ; and how Dr. S was 
 
 Convicted and Converted 34 
 
 Leaf V. — How Dr. S Joined the Church, and the Merchant did 
 
 not Sell the Heavy Bill that day as was expected 39 
 
 Leaf YI. — Dr. S in his First Love-feast 42 
 
 Leaf Yll. — Dr. S , after Advising and Entreating his Friend to 
 
 refrain from Shouting at an Expected Meeting, is the First heard 
 from 40 
 
 Leaf YIIL — OldShiloh; or, the Sanctified Preacher 50 
 
 Leaf IX. — A Memento of my Departed Friend, the Rev. James C. 
 Postell ; or, a Night at Cattle Creek Camp-ground in the Olden 
 Time 5G 
 
 Leaf X. — My First Yisit to old Cane Creek Camp-ground, Union 
 
 District, why I went there : or, the Beginning of my Roving Ijife 50 
 
 Leaf XL — My First Yisit to Rock Springs Camp-ground, Xorth Ca- 
 rolina ; and a Wayside Meeting 67 
 
 Leaf XII. — The Black Swamp Camp-meeting, Avhere the Colonel of 
 the Beaufort Rangers surrendered his Sword, and the Captain 
 of the Gillisonville Guards left his Post 73 
 
 Leaf XIII. — A Camp-meeting in the Up-country, from which I 
 
 found out Something I did not know before 83 
 
 Leap XIY. — Centre Camp-ground, North Carolina, and the Low- 
 countrv Dinner ; and how the Class-leader's AVife was Convicted 
 and Converted 88 
 
 Leaf XV. — How I got the Names of '' War Preacher" and " Wan- 
 dering Arab.'- 96 
 
CONTENTS. VI 1. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Leaf XVI. — My First Visit to Gully Camp-ground, Darlington District 99 
 Leaf XVII. — My First Visit to Pleasant Grove Camp-ground, North 
 
 Carolina, where two long Letters on Controversy were Answered 10-1 
 
 Leaf XVIII. — Camp-meetings in Georgia. 107 
 
 Leaf XIK. — Meetings at old Springtown ; or, the Preacher who, 
 
 while Working for others, Enjoyed himself very much 116 
 
 Leaf XX. — '' In Union there is Strength ;" or, the Two Flags Waving 
 together ; or, Judah and Simeon together, with Locked Shields, 
 
 pressing the Battle to the Gate 12^,-m» 
 
 Leaf XXI. — Meetings in Alabama 131 
 
 Leaf XXII. — A Memento to my Departed Friend, Rev. H. H. Du- 
 
 rant; or, a Visit to Sandy Spring Camp-ground, South Carolina 138 
 Leaf XXIII. — A Memento to my Dear Departed Brother in Christ, 
 Rev. W. C. Kirkland — the Man whom the Church and the 
 
 World loved 146 
 
 Leaf XXIV. — Remarkable Dreams 164 
 
 Leaf XXV. — Remarkable Presentiments which came to pass 160 
 
 Leaf XXVL— The Strange Preacher Trying his Bob .' 163 
 
 Leaf XXVIL— The Heroes of the old Walterboro Circuit 168 
 
 Leaf XXVIII. — A MementS of my most Beloved Friend, Brother 
 Thomas Raysor, the Model Steward ; or, the Man whose Mantle 
 
 no one has yet been found Worthy to wear 184 
 
 Leaf XXIX.— Camden ; Meetings at Salem Camp-ground, and Lan- 
 caster Court-house 189 
 
 Leaf XXX. — The Strange Preacher Counting Chickens before they 
 were Hatched; or, Expecting Great Things, was quite Disap- 
 pointed 195 
 
 Leaf XXXI. — A Memento to my Departed Friends, "the Three great 
 Heroes of the old Barnwell Circuit, and Binnakers Camp-ground 
 
 — Brothers Henry Holman, David Felder, and George Riley 205 
 
 Leaf XXXII. — Meetings at old Zion ; and the Last Freshet in the 
 
 Edisto 211 
 
 Leaf XXXIIL — My Second Visit to Rock Springs Camp-ground, 
 North Carolina, and the Star of H. H. Durant again iji 'the 
 
 Ascendant 222 
 
 Leaf XXXIV. — My First Visit to Spartanburg, where I had to 
 
 preach more than the Two Promised Sermons 232 
 
Vlll. CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGI 
 
 Leak XXXV. — IIow the Protracted Meeting at G was broken 
 
 up, when the Ghost shook his Gory Locks 237 
 
 Leaf XXXVL — Two Visits to Georgetown by tlie Strange Preacher 245 
 
 Leaf XXXVIL — English Chapel ; or, the Wandering Arab, taking 
 the Water with Fear and Trembling, comes out better than he 
 Expected, with the exception of pulling his Boots off 251 
 
 Leak XXXVIIL— The Protracted Meeting at D Closed and Re- 
 newed again ; or, the Best of the Wine at the Last of the Feast. 258 
 tu^^Leaf XXXIX. — Meetings on the Cooper River Circuit, with my 
 
 ^-^ much-loved Friend and Brother, the Rev. J. W. Kelly 204 
 
 af XL. — Providence Camp-ground, Fish Dam, and Belmont, 
 Union District, South Carolina 274 
 
 Leaf XLI. — Mesopotamia, Union District 283 
 
 Leap XLIL — Meetings at Cannon's Camp-ground, and in the Town 
 
 of Spartanburg 289 
 
 Leaf XLIIL — Jacksonville, Florida ; or, the Strange Preacher re- 
 quested to stay till after Supper 297 
 
 Leaf XLIV.— A Visit to Black Swamp Circuit— Elegies of the Old 
 
 House and of the Oak-tree 300 
 
 Leaf XLV.— The Conclusion and Farewell ».... 310 
 
STRAY LEAVES 
 
 THE POET-FOLIO ] 
 
 LOCAL PREACHER. 
 
 LEAF THE FIRST. 
 
 BIRTH AND EA.RLY YEARS — FIRST SERIOUS CONVICTIONS — 
 HOW THEY WERE LOST. 
 
 I was born in the town of Walterboro', S. C, October 5th, 
 1806. I was the second son of Dr.. John S. Bellinger, who, 
 when I was quite young, moved to Barnwell District, and 
 settled a place, which he called "Pine Forest," where I 
 lived until my mother's death. As I was growing up, my 
 father often told me that as a child I was very hard to rule, 
 very quick tempered, and that I caused my dear mother 
 much trouble. He said, that she often talked to him of me, 
 and told him just before she died, she was much more dis- 
 tressed about me, than any of the other children. She 
 tried, however, to bring me up aright, making me say ray 
 prayers regularly. 
 
 Soon after my mother's death, my father sent off my elder 
 brother and myself to an Academy called Mount Prospect, 
 in Union District. I was then only eight years old. I 
 remained there for two years While still quite young, I 
 was sent to another school, ten or twelve miles from Col- 
 umbia, at Piatt Springs. I remained there several years. 
 1 
 
10 ST KAY LEAVES. 
 
 There AYiis a lari:;o number of boys at that Academy, from 
 different parts of tlio State. We had some very roii<^h 
 scenes to pass through. It was no holiday business in 
 those days, to go to school so far from homo. The boys 
 were very careless concerninij religious things— many of 
 them l^eing desperately wicked —awfully profane. Sunday 
 was very little respected, and we enjoyed ourselves in 
 various ways — all sinful in the sight of God. It is doubt- 
 ful if there was a pious boy among us. The man with 
 whom we boarded was a wicked, drink ng bully— a terror 
 to all around. 
 
 Once every year, T paid a visit to my home. I well re- 
 member those annual returns to the home of my childhood. 
 It seems to me now when I think of those stated returns, that 
 it was to me then somewhat like an exiled son of Abraham 
 returning to the land of his fathers. My youngest brother, 
 Edmund,' was then with us at the Academy. My father 
 was noted for his punctuality, so that he had a fixed day 
 both for our going from, and returning to, our home — the 
 first day of January and the last day of November. During 
 the many years I was at Piatt Sp^ngs, I do not remember 
 having missed the appointed time, but once; and then afflic- 
 tion in the family prevented our returning at the usual 
 time. Oh, those happy days of my boyhood! how plea- 
 santly were they spent in the company of my brothers ! 
 How can I ever forget them 1 Even now, I remember with 
 what transports of joy we would leave Piatt Springs and 
 th^Congaree creek. During our homeward ride, we noted 
 eviiy hill we passed as bringing: us so much nearer the 
 Mecca of our hearts. And when we had crossed the North 
 Edisto at Orangeburg, and the South Edisto at Cannon's 
 bridge, we felt more than we could express, for then we 
 were only ten miles from home. Bat on, and still on, the 
 boys go — their old horses, " Fear-not" and " Capt. Hull," 
 seem to feel as glad as their young masters — they move so 
 fast on the good road. A.nd now, first Lemon swamp, and 
 then Baring's Hill, are left behind. That house you see on 
 the right leaves only two miles more. Let us now turn 
 down the old avenue. As fast as they are travelling, the 
 
VACATION AMUSEMENTS. 11 
 
 boys are becoming impatient, and wish they could go even 
 faster. Hear how they clap their hands and laugh out — • 
 ''There is old Pine Forest." Edmund spies the homestead 
 first, and then his less fortunate brother, Lucius. And 
 now we are at home. Our dear father is coming down the 
 steps to welcome his three boys. So anxious is he that he 
 has forgotten his hat. Then come Maum Cilia and Kate, 
 and Uncle Cudjo and Paris, to shake hands with us; and 
 now we realize that we are at home at last. It is with a 
 mi.i^hty eifort that we can prepare for bed that night And 
 then the next day we follow our inclinations, and roam all 
 about the woods, proving quite a terror to squirrels, rabbits, 
 and birds. Imagine our disappointment though, to find it 
 raining on the second morning after our arrival, and father* 
 counsels us to remain in-doors, else we may take cold. Wo 
 hail with genuine joy the re-appearance of the sun, and go 
 to work to entrap partridges, larks, and other birds. \Ye 
 thought our brother John quite a hero, because he killed 
 two ducks while flying — thinking in our boyish ignorance, 
 that it was one of the most wonderful shots that had ever 
 been made in Barnwell District. And then again, on an- 
 other day he shot an old fox squirrel, which ran into his 
 nest, putting us to the trouble of cutting down the tree. We 
 found that he was in excellent order, having laid aside all 
 ceremony in visiting father's rice patch. Our vacation has 
 ended, prematurely we think, and we have to return to 
 school again — feeling sad at heart to say " good-bye" to 
 the home-folks. We have travelled many miles before I can 
 muster courage enough to keep back the tears— and in anti- 
 cipating the future it seems quite an age ere* I can return to 
 my old home. And thus many years pass by. 
 
 It was well for me at this time that I had been blessed 
 with a mother who was a pious member of the Protestant 
 Episcopal Church, and who required me to repeat my 
 prayers regularly. I have never forgotten her instructions. 
 Our teacher little cared how the boys passed the Sabbath. 
 All that he required was strict obedience to his rules during 
 the week. If they missed their lessons, they might look 
 out for trouble —which came usually with a severe flogging. 
 
12 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 They would ofLim resort to imy means to mitigate the 
 Boveritj of the thrashing, by putting bark under their 
 shirts. 
 
 We usually spent our Saturdays fishing, hunting, etc., 
 which was real sport to scliool-boys who were, for the time 
 being, free from all restraint. Bat after a while, quite a 
 change came over Piatt Springs. A now teacher took 
 charge of the school. He was a member of the Presby- 
 terian Church — a man of upright conduct and strict morals. 
 He strictly observed the Sabbath, and his walk was up- 
 right. This was quite a wonderful day for the entire 
 school — each pupil having his own opinion regarding our 
 future prospects. Here was a large field before this man of 
 God, much of it being stony ground. A ver}'- poor crop of 
 righteousness miglit be expected ; but the good teacher 
 went to Avork. His first effort was to establish a Sunday- 
 school among the boys. At first, he met with but little 
 encouragement ; but finally, others joined the number, and 
 I think there was a little improvement among us, morally, 
 which happy change w^ent on gradually. 
 
 An old Lutheran preacher, Mr. Franklow, whose life was 
 nearly worn out in his Master's service, at this time 
 preached to us once a month. I was now a Sunday-school 
 scholar. The good seed sown in my young heart years ego 
 began to germinate. Will it spring ijp ? Will it bring 
 forth fruit to the glory of God? Time will tell. Let us 
 hope for the best. 
 
 I remember one evening well. It must have been — now, 
 in 1866 — more than forty-five years ago. Let me try to 
 draw the picture. The sun was nearly down. A youth — 
 say about fifteen — was walking by himself— an old man 
 now, writing these lines. This was no chance work ; I 
 think the Lord must have drawn him to this spot. The 
 last rays of the sun were shining on the bold, rapid Con- 
 garee creek. An old m-an on the other side was walking 
 slowly, tremblingly along, leading his horse. He intended 
 to walk over the foot-log, while he led his horse through 
 the water. This was the aged Lutheran preacher, coming 
 to preach for us on the morrow. I crossed over the foot- 
 
DEEP CONVICTIONS. 13 
 
 log; and hastened up to the preacher, who extended his 
 hand, saying : — 
 
 " I am so glad to see you ; I suspect the Lord sent you 
 here ; I have been fasting to-day, and feel weak and weary; 
 I was afraid to attempt to ride over, and am glad you have 
 come to help me across." 
 
 H|e prayed the blessing of the Lord upon me. I first 
 assisted him over, and then led his horse through the 
 creek. I think that the blessed spirit of my mother looked 
 down from boaven upon her prodigal son, from whose 
 heart all good impressions were not entirely gone. The 
 old man seemed very grateful ; he thanked me with tears 
 streaming down his venerable face. 
 
 He preached to us the next day. I heard him frequently 
 during those years long gone by ; but that which is most 
 distinct in my memory is the hymn with which he usually 
 dismissed us Even now, at this remote period, in imagina- 
 tion I hear him repeat these lines — 
 
 " Give every fettered soul release, 
 And let us all depart in peace." 
 
 About this time there was an examination of the Sunday- 
 school scholars. One of the first prizes was awarded to me. 
 I valued the book given to me on that occasion very highly. 
 The preaching and' the counsels of that good man, and the 
 prayers of my blessed mother, which had been so often 
 offered for her wayward son, were answered now, in my 
 first serious convictions. They were strong and powerful. 
 I was bowed in spirit, with no one to advise or comfort me. 
 The preacher would not be back for weeks, and the teacher, 
 though a good man, did not attempt to win the love and 
 confidence of his pupils, but rather kept aloof from them. 
 Consequently, I was all alone with my great grief, not 
 knowing how to approach my God. I have always thought, 
 that if I could have been blessed at that time with the 
 prayers and advice of some Christian man, I might have 
 started that much sooner by many years for glory. I tried 
 to pray; but there was no one to point me the way. How 
 well do T remember those days of trouble—away from 
 
14 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 home, Avith no one to counsel me. I think my brothers 
 were ignorant of* my feelings. 
 
 I remember the last Sabbath I passed in that stjlte of 
 mind. I absented myself from my companions, during the 
 entire day, and tried hard to compose my thoughts, and to 
 engage in prayer. I read the entire book of Psalms on 
 that da}^. 
 
 My distress was very great; but the devil knowing my 
 weak point, kept his eye upon me. I feel truly sorry, even 
 now, when I recall, with shame, how he overthrevs^ me, and 
 deprived me of the great blessing that my Saviour was even 
 then waiting to give me. I was of very quick temi^er, very 
 easil}^ angered, and my great enemy knew this, and here ho 
 got advantage over me. Shortly after that Sunday-, I arose 
 from my knees one morning sad and troubled, and joined 
 the boys, v^rhich was sometimes unavoidable. I passed 
 through the crowd with my head bowed down, feeling 
 much depressed in spirits. One of my companions struck 
 me a heavy blow on the back with some missile. In a 
 moment all my deep convictions were gone— the tempter 
 had gained the victory. I turned round, filled with awful 
 anger; and when I discovered who the offender was, I 
 rushed upon him ; but we were separated, and it was in vain 
 that I tried to reach him. Alas for me ! my convictions 
 bad been swept away like straw before the mighty wind. 
 The sun rose on me that morning an humble, mourning 
 soul, not far from salvation. The same heavenly orb went 
 down on me, with my good intentioi s all gone — my angry 
 passions ruling me with a mighty power. I turned from 
 my Bible and prayers, and from my search after the Sa- 
 viour's love. Hell had triumphed, and I was on my way 
 to ruin. 
 
LEAF THE SECOND. 
 
 MY SECOND CONVICTION — STRONGER THAN THE FIRST — BUT 
 LOST IN THE SAME WAY. 
 
 My years at Piatt Springs were over now. I left there 
 more than forty years ago, and T have never visited the 
 p'ace since, notwithstanding my desire to re-visit the old 
 Springs, the Congaree creek, the old school-house, and their 
 never-to-be-forgotten surroundings. I sometimes think, that 
 the hand of Providence has so directed it, that I should 
 never walk over those grounds again. So be it! The 
 Lord's will be done, not mine. But old Piatt Springs, thou 
 art not forgotten ! I have thought of thee times without 
 number. And thou, Congaree creek, rapid and bold, has- 
 tening on to the river, in imagination I have often, again 
 and again, sported in th}^ strong current! It was there that 
 I took my first lessons in swimming, and in time became one 
 of the most expert of the hundreds who spent very much of 
 their time in the water. 
 
 I well remember the last night of my stay at Piatt 
 Springs. The examination was over; father had sent for 
 us. After paying all our debts, and bidding Mr. Stafford 
 farewell, and taking leave of Mrs. Bell, Mr. Boughman, and 
 Mr. Geger's family, and shaking hand for the last time with 
 most of the boj^s, Edmund and myself were left alone, and 
 we awaited very impatiently the dawn, that we might 
 make an early start for Pine Forest. While we were thus 
 waiting, three or four of the hoyn entered our rooms. They 
 "had come to bid us " good-bye." Let me say here, that 
 even then I was trjang to do what I have endeavoured to do 
 ever since — that is, to have as little to do with ardent spirits 
 as possible. But there were boys among us who were too 
 fond of them, and these boys were among that number Af- 
 ter remaining for some time, they proposed a parting drink, 
 which they insisted on our taking. We at first declined, 
 but finally yielded to the-r persuasions. The bottle was 
 brought out. We drank standing, without water, and then 
 
16 STRAY I.EAVIvS. 
 
 parted — some never to meet again. Tluit was the first and 
 last drink of that kind I have ever taken.* 
 
 I reached home safely, in duo time. After the lapse of 
 some years. I found myself even more wicked than when at 
 school — being headlong, passionate, travelling with rapid 
 steps the road to eternal night. I entered upon the duties of 
 life— farming on a small scale. I hunted, fished, and en- 
 jo3"ed myself in various ways. Occasionally, I went on the 
 Sabbath in company with some wicked young men to a 
 place called Clear Pond, and, by my great skill in swim- 
 ming, astonished the lookers-on so mucli, that the report of 
 my feats \vas heard far and near. I ver}^ seldom attended 
 church — having no use for preaching — but I went to camp 
 meetings. I was often, however, at Spring Town — the 
 nearest place of worship -for the sake of the crowd that 
 went there. I went to " muster" regularly, and finally be- 
 came Captain of the Fish-pond Company, and began to feel 
 a little big. I was very wicked, perhaps more so than my 
 friends imagined. Time rolled on. There was then a very 
 popular preacher on the old Orangeburg circuit — the pre- 
 sent Bishop Wightman, I heard so much of him that I 
 concluded to go to Pine G-rove Church to hear him. I there 
 met several friends and relatives. I remember it as w/jll as 
 if it were only yesterday. The old log house was crowded. I 
 heard a very fine sermon. A local preacher, famous for his 
 loud praying, concluded, with a voice like a war trumpet. 
 Some of the fashionable ladies present complained after- 
 wards of severe headache. A pair of fine horses became 
 frightened at that trumpet-voice: the carriage pole was 
 broken ; and the owner — a lady of great respectability — be- 
 came so provoked with Methodist preachers, that she never, 
 during her life, attended another Methodist meeting. 
 
 ■^ Very many years afterwards, when on my way to Camden, to be or- 
 dained deacon, one evening about dark, some persons passed me. By 
 their actions, I knew they were drunk, and I was at once suddenly im- 
 pressed that among them were some of those who took that parting 
 drink with me at Piatt Springs, and it required an effort to restrain my 
 tears. I found out afterwards, that I was right — that they had thrown 
 themselves away entirely. 
 
DOCTOR CAPERS AT PINE GROVE. 17 
 
 The youDg Captain of the Fish-pond Company never once 
 thought, during his occasional visits to old Pine Grove in 
 those days, that, in a few years, he would become one of 
 the class-leaders of the little band who worshipped there, 
 hoping to get to heaven, when the warfare of life is over. 
 
 During the same year, there was a quarterly meeting at 
 ^the same place. I attended, and found quite a crowd for 
 the place. Br. Capers, whose fame had spread all over his 
 native State, and to many others, was expected to be- there. 
 Old Pine Grove had never seen such a turn-out for many 
 years — perhaps, a greater gathering had never been there. 
 The people came from Buck-head, from Green-pond, from 
 Wesley Chapel, and from the other side of the Edisto — 
 came in crowds. The Lord blessed his children with a 
 most lovely (^ay for that season of the year. Brothers 
 Howell, Eason Smith, Steadly, Barton, E. Stephens, and 
 Curry were there, singing as the old-time Methodists used 
 to sing. The preaching was out of doors, and to almost 
 every tree there was a horse fastened. In imagination, 
 listen to that singing. Hearts are engaged in the work, 
 expecting and praying for a glorious time ; and that day's 
 histoiy will tell, both in time and eternity, that they were 
 not disappointed. The crowd coiitinues to increase, and 
 song after song climbs the hills of heaven, and the holy 
 angels are hovering over, more in number than for years 
 before, perhaps ; while hell is trembling to its centre, but 
 musters all its strength for a desperate battle. The negroes 
 are out in great crowds, and sing with voices that make 
 the woods ring. The hour of public worship arrives. Bro- 
 ther VVightman preaches the first sermon— his text, "Woe 
 to the world, because of offences," — a sermon long to be re- 
 membered. He paints the awful fate which awaits all sin- 
 ners, who not onl}^ ruin themselves, but draw others down 
 with them to the realms of endless night. 
 
 The young preacher not only sustained, but added much 
 to his rising fame by that^ day's weU-arranged and finished 
 sermon, which was preached at old Pine Grove Church. 
 
 When the preacher sat down, Dr. Capers rose before that 
 tremendous throng. His face alone was a sermon, whether 
 
18 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 in the pulpit or not. Wlio that looked at that man would 
 not feel that a Christian stood, before liiin, in all the grace 
 and loveliness of religion. Such a face and such a smile are 
 not often seen in this vale of tears. I think, that was the 
 first time I ever saw him. The crowd was silent and re- 
 spectful throughout its wide limits. How those expressive 
 words of Virgil suited this heavenly-minded man, whenever 
 ho stood up before the church and the world in behalf of 
 his blessed Saviour and Lord — 
 
 *' Ille regit dictis animos et pectora mulcet." 
 
 His text was — ''And the Saviour saw the multitudes were 
 as sheep having no shepherd, and he taught them many- 
 things." Oh, that sermon I wlio can describe it? The hol}^ 
 blessed Son of the Father stood before our eyes in all his 
 condescension, his meekness, and his great pity for a lost 
 world, who are like sheep without a shepherd As the holy 
 man went on, we could see the scene before us. We tra- 
 versed the realms of earth — we crossed the mighty deep, 
 and the old Canaan of the Scriptures was before us. There 
 rolled the Jordan — the sacred river. We saw the sacred 
 mountains, Carmel, Tabor, Hor, and Gilboa. Hebron, Na- 
 zareth, and Jerusalem stood before us. We saw the sea of 
 Galilee, with its palaces mirrored beneath its blue waves, 
 and the fishermen with their vessels-jfollowing their trade ; 
 and the many thousands from all parts of the holy land 
 seated upon the green grass before the eternaJ Son of God. 
 The halt, the blind, the lame, the lepers and those possessed 
 with evil spirits; the rich and the noble of the country; the 
 scribes and the doctors of the law, were there. The im- 
 mense throng was before us, and the Blessed Teacher 
 taught them the way of salvation. The preacher tells us of 
 man's danger and his only way of escape; tells us of the 
 joys of the redeemed ; of the green fields of Eden on the 
 other side of the flood ; of the harps of heaven ; of the 
 crowns of glory reserved for the faithful at the right hand 
 of the throne for ever. 
 
 Though it has been some forty years ago, I frequently 
 hear persons allude to that meeting. I doubt much if there 
 
AGAIN DEEPLY CONVICTED. 19 
 
 has ever been such another in these lands. A vast crowd 
 stood spell-bound before the preacher. My much-loved fa- 
 ther was present. Having heard much of Dr. Capers, he 
 was anxious to hear every word, and he, therefore, sat quite 
 near, and appeared deeply interested. Whenever he was 
 interested, he usually nodded by way of agreement ; but, 
 on the other hand, if he did not agree with the speaker, he 
 would shake his head. On this occasion, he appeared much 
 pleased, and began to nod — a sign that all was right. He 
 finally, however, ceased nodding assent, and dropped his 
 head and wept, being much affected. More than once after- 
 wards he was heard to tell how deeply interested he was; 
 but. he said, that he never would sit so near the pulpit in a 
 Methodist meeting again, as he considered it quite a danger- 
 ous place; for he was coinpelled to weep in spite of'every 
 effort of his to refrain from doing so. He also acknow- 
 ledged having been nearly caught by thetn on that occa- 
 sion. I wish from my soul they had succeeded in doing so. 
 But how about the Captain of the Fish-pond Company? 
 How was he coming on all this time? Why, he was more 
 strongly, more powerfully convicted than he was before, at 
 old Piatt Springs. He was made to dread the wrath to 
 come, more than ever before ; and he felt the longings for 
 salvation more than ever — having been completely carried 
 away with the scene which had been presented to him, and 
 the heavenly face that was before him, now covered with 
 smiles, and then again with tears of love and joy. He was 
 transported with strong emotions, and listened, entranced 
 by the soul-stirring eloquence of the holy man of God, and 
 thought, that if that man would only pray for him, per- 
 sonally, he would at once get religion. He was taken a 
 willing captive by the love of the Saviour, as it was de- 
 scribed to him that day. He even yet remembers that he 
 had made up his mind, should mourners be called up, to 
 present himself at the throne of grace. And to this day 
 he believes, that he would not only have gone up as a 
 mourner, but that he would have joined the church, had 
 the opportunity been offered. Towards the close of the 
 sermon, his feelings were powerfully wrought upon, and 
 
20 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 ho was anxious for the Rcrmon to bo 'concluded — having 
 fully resolved when mourners were called up to go too. 
 I think mistakes are frequently made, by having other 
 preachers to close. On this occasion, Dr. Capers did not 
 conclude tho service; and I remember how much disap- 
 pointed I was. I am fully convinced that I would have 
 joined the church man}^ years sooner than I did, had ho 
 done so. I had heard enough ; I only wanted to be pra^^ed 
 for, and then I would have gone homo happy in my Sa- 
 viour's love. Tho preacher who succeeded him spoke of 
 tho terrors of tho law, of sinning away our day of grace, 
 and of our being beyond the reach of mercy in this life. 
 Oh, ray soul ! what a change came over me ! I was at 
 once impressed that my chance was gone. How badly I 
 felt! I at once concluded, that it was too late for mo. 
 When mourners were called up, I stayed away, feeling as 
 badly, perhaps, as any who knelt for prayer. 
 
 The memorable meeting was over. I felt a strong desiro 
 to go to Dr. Capers, as he was about leaving, and ask him 
 to pray for me ; but he did not know me, as I had never 
 spoken to him, and, therefore, I concluded it would bo 
 wrong. Doubtless it was the tempter at work. At last, 
 however, I did resolve to approach hjm; but too late, for 
 he was gone, and with him my hope of salvation for that 
 evening I was so much distressed, that many noticed it 
 and have since spoken to me of it. I was so much troubled, 
 that it was with difficulty I ^ode home. I rode with head 
 bowed down, fully convinced that had Dr. Capers called up 
 mourners, I would have gone and been converted. My 
 state of mind can never bo forgotten while life lasts. It 
 was very similar to my depressed feelings, during my first 
 conviction while at Piatt Springs. 
 
 At that time my father was not a member of the church, 
 and there was no one at home with us, except the negroes, 
 some of whom doubtless loved the Lord, and could have 
 given me some comfort; but I confided in no one. I tried 
 again and again to pray to the Lord ; but there was no one 
 to advise, no one to direct me how to approach the throne of 
 heavenly grace. What days and nights of awful gloom and 
 
ANOTHER FAILURE. 21 
 
 anguish of my soul ! I began to read the New Testament 
 as soon as I got home, and finished it by the next Saturday 
 morning, trying very hard, in my imperfect way, to obtain 
 the forgiveness of my sins. I fully believe, that had I been 
 at some meeting, where the Spirit was poured out, I would 
 have found my blessed Saviour. But alas ! my great enemy 
 was preparing for me another overthrow, fatal to my hopes 
 of religion. 
 
 The Saturday succeeding the one of the meeting, was 
 the regular muster-day for the Fish-pond Company. Had I 
 known what my experience was to be, I never would have 
 gone, but would have rather paid a double fine. I do not 
 remember whether 1 commanded on that day or not ; but 
 I remember full well how earnestly I tried to pray, before 
 I left home — without, however, experiencing any change. 
 I was much depressed in spirit — scarcely speaking to any 
 one — only replying when spoken to. I resolved to return 
 home as soon as my duty had been discharged. But I had 
 a friend and relative on the ground — a man fond of his 
 glass, and very quick tempered. There was also another 
 riian on the ground, of the same habits — a large man, while 
 my friend was rather small. AYhile I was standing some dis- 
 tance from the crowd, engaged with my own sad thoughts, 
 I heard a noise and, on turning round, found that the strong 
 man had struck my friend, and the blow had been returned 
 by him. The scene of Piatt Springs was enacted again. 
 Great rage took possession of me. I rushed between them, 
 and took the place of my friend. My antagonist and my- 
 self were finally separated. I went home — all my convic- 
 tions and distress of soul gone. Hell had triumphed the 
 second time. 
 
LEAF THE TIIIKD. 
 
 MY THIRD CONVICTION EVEN MORE POWERFUL THAN THE 
 LAST — HELL IS DEFEATED — HEAVEN TRIUMPHS — I AM 
 CONVERTED. 
 
 After my second overthrow, I wandered much farther in 
 the broad road to destruction than ever before. I thought 
 and cared very little for religion. 1 hardened my heart more 
 and still more. I ceased praying to the Most High, and 
 stopped reading my Bible. Yet, there were some of my 
 friends who had not given me up, but still expected me to 
 con\e out on the Lord's side, and start for the better world. 
 
 ]5et me here say, that it appeared to me the Lord had, on 
 'more than one occasion, told me what was to be my fate — 
 that is, so far as my becoming a preacher was concerned. 
 My father had two very old and faithful servants, who 
 loved the Lord, and were on their way to heaven I placed 
 itnplicit confidence in their professions. During my wildest 
 days, they often told me that I would join the church and 
 become a preacher, that they expected to hear me preach, 
 and nothing I could say would make them think otherwise. 
 Their predictions were fulfilled, for they both lived to hear 
 me preach. 
 
 Again, there was a gentleman of hifl^h standing— a wor- 
 thy minister of the Baptist church, who had known me 
 from boyhood, and he often told me that he knew there 
 was work for me; that I would be called to preach. He 
 also told me that he had been noticing me for some time, 
 and that the idea was a permanent one. I remember that 
 one day, while he was thus speaking to me, I told him how 
 little prospect there was of that ever happening. He re- 
 plied, with a serious face that I can even now recall, " Cap- 
 tain, you will have to ineach ; I have a lease of my life till 
 that takes place." That good man lived to see the pleasure 
 of the Lord fulfilled. I have had the happiness to be with 
 him at some very interesting meetings. 
 
 But I continued on in the downward road that leads to 
 
IN THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS. 23 
 
 eternal night and endless despair. I remember one holy 
 Sabbath how I sinned against the Lord. What a great 
 mercy it was that in those days, he Sto often bore with me, 
 daring my rebellion against heaven. I had broken my gun, 
 and had to send it to a gunsiTiith, who was a member of our 
 church. I knew when it would be finished, and I went for 
 it on the Sabbath. He did not wish to give it to me then, 
 and told me that he was a member of the church, and con- 
 sidered it wrong ; but I insisted, for I was determined to 
 have it. On mj^ way home I rode carelessly by the church, 
 where they were holding class-meeting. 'J he good leader. 
 Brother Holman, told me afterwards that he saw me pass, 
 but little thought that he would live to hear me preach in 
 that same church. That blessed man of God has years ago 
 gone to the green fields of Eden on the other side of the 
 flood. The old church, too, has passed away ; but I am still 
 here, trying to call sinners to repentance. 
 
 I went on still in the way of the transgressor, and was 
 still exceedingly wicked. I remember to have wounded 
 the feelings of my dear father, who attempted to counsel 
 me; but I little regarded his advice, and rushed on madly 
 to destruction. I frequently attended large gatherings at 
 Methodist churches, particularly at camp-meetings, where 
 I made sport at holy things. I laughed at, and ridiculed, 
 the excitement witnessed at such places. I did not believe 
 one word of what I heard, for I did not understand it ; and 
 I was apparently farther than ever from the church. 
 
 About that time our State became much excited on the 
 subject of Nullification, and I became a warm partizan on 
 the Union side. We had meetings, gave dinners, and made 
 speeches. The whole country was aroused from the moun- 
 tains to the sea-board. 
 
 Meanwhile, my heart was closed against all religious 
 impressions; but the time was fast approaching for my 
 conviction the third time — more powerfully than before. 
 And ever since the day of which I am now going to write, 
 1 have thought that that occasion was to be the last offer 
 of salvation to me — that mercy would have been extended 
 to me no more, had I then refused to be saved ; that my 
 
24 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 day of grace would have departed never more to return. 
 Such is my serious conviction, while now I am reviewing 
 those past scenes of my roving life, and I expect to go to 
 my grave with this &ame solemn belief. 
 
 In September, 1831, the annual gathering of the Metho- 
 dists was to. take place at Binnakers, a famous camp ground 
 some twelve miles from my home. The two political ])ar- 
 ties were to meet at Buford's bridge on the Saturday after 
 the meeting, where they expected to have their dinner and 
 speeches. My father had requested me to make a few 
 remarks on the occasion, which I had tried to prepare to 
 my satisfaction, hoping thereby to give some aid to our 
 side. lie also gave me some pamphlets for distribution at 
 the camp-meeting ; but requested me to do nothing during 
 service, but should opportunity offer during the intervals, 
 to take advantage of them. I went alone to the camp- 
 meeting. Taking a private way, before reaching the public 
 road I stopped, and repeated to myself the speech which I 
 had prepared for that day week, and then passed on to the 
 camp-groun-'^, situated near the banks of the Edisto. 'Twas 
 a beautiful place, regularly laid out, which had been used as 
 such for several years. Persons attended it from some dis- 
 tance ; sometimes from across the Savannah. The Metho- 
 dists were there in great numbers, and many ministers, 
 men of talent and experience, were present. The Eev. 
 Henry Bass was presiding elder — a man much beloved by 
 the church. 
 
 On my arrival, after mingling with the crowd for some 
 time, I concluded that there was but little chance for me to 
 work politically. Nevertheless, I made an effort and dis- 
 tributed ray pamphlets, speaking in the intervals on the 
 subject which brought me there. 
 
 On Saturday evening, I heard a portion of a sermon, 
 after which I made much sport of the man of God. Having 
 concluded that I could do but little for my party, I pro- 
 posed to go home ; but I was persuaded by a much-loved 
 friend to remain. He was very wicked, and I think if he 
 could have foreseen events, that he would have been as 
 urgent for me to leave as he appeared anxious for me to 
 
CAMP MEETING AT BI2sXAKERS. 25 
 
 remain ; but the devil is much disappointed sometimes. I 
 guess if he had suspected what was to happen on the mor- 
 row, he would have left no stone unturned to get the young 
 Captain away from that place. 
 
 I had, too, another friend on the ground, w^hora I re- 
 spected much, notwithstanding he belongcc" to the opposite 
 party. I thought that, in visiting the place, he was promp- 
 ted by the same political motive I was, and I concluded 
 that it would be to my advantage could I persuade him to 
 leave. Some one informed me, that his wife and children 
 were sick ; so I believed that he was in my power. I there- 
 fore approached him in the presence of others, and re- 
 marked that I was much surprised to meet him, telling him 
 at the same time why I came, and acknowledging that I 
 was ashamed of myself for having been actuated by such a 
 motive in visiting the place. But I told him that I had no 
 family, and that I left my father quite well; while, on the 
 other hand, I had been told that he had left his family sick, 
 and yet came there to discuss politics I asked him if he 
 was not ashamed, and advised him to return home imme- 
 diately. He made no reply till I was through ; so I con- 
 cluded that I had gained the day. But I soon discovered 
 my mistake; for he replied in a manner I never expect to 
 for^jet. I was overwhelmed with astonishment as Dr. Ayre 
 replied very calmly — 
 
 "You have made a great mistake. I left my wife and 
 
 children much better, and requested Dr. " w^ho lived 
 
 near, "to visit them regularly during my absence." 
 
 He also told me, that he did not come there to take part 
 in politics, but for something far different, that he had 
 recently found out he was fast going to hell, and would be 
 lost unless the Lord saved him ; that he came, hoping to 
 get religion ; that, on describing the state of his mind to his 
 wife, she advised him to attend the meeting ; that he had 
 committed his family to the Lord's care; and further, ho 
 advised me to follow his example. He silenced me at once, 
 and I left and kept aloof from him until after I, too, had 
 become convicted. 
 
 Not having an opportunity to work politically, I became 
 2 
 
26 sTiiAY ij:ave.s. 
 
 reckless, and behaved much worse than 1 had ever done 
 before at places of worship. I gathered some friends around 
 me— amoniij them the wicked 3^oun(^ man to whom I haVe 
 alluded. We made up our minds to have fine sport. Oh, 
 my soul ! sporting over the pit, while the fiery billows were 
 raging below. My friend and I were very mu(di attached 
 to each other; we called ourselves "The Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona." I was Yalentine, ho was Proteus — by which 
 names we usuallj' addressed each other. I behaved so 
 badly, that a gentleman present, who had married my 
 sister, after requesting mo in vain to desist, finally told me, 
 that he would not remain in ray company any longer, not 
 even in the same tent; that he knew my sister would be 
 much worried, when she heard pf uiy conduct. He left me, 
 and I went on in my wicked course— not to be stopped but 
 by the power of the Most High Among other things that 
 we did for pastime, I being the leader of the party, was the 
 following — the wrong of w^hich I can now see. A gentle- 
 man and lady of respectability were present — she was the 
 daughter of a Methodist preacher, who served the Lord 
 faithfully during his life. They were engaged to be mar- 
 ried ; I proposed to my party that we could have fine sport 
 by being very attentive to her, thereby depriving him of 
 her company; and furthermore, to mention it where he 
 could hesir it, that we were much pleased with her. In 
 this way, we anno^'od them very much — walking with 
 her alternately, and intruding ourselves whenever we could. 
 "We even went so far as to step in between them, w^hile 
 they were walking together, thereby making him quite 
 indignant.* 
 
 On Sunday morning, a gentleman to whom I had just 
 been introduced — a man of the world, requested me to 
 
 * Many years afterwards, when I had become a zealous preacher, I 
 met that same lady at a meeting, where we had an opportunity of con- 
 versing alone. During the conversation, she told me of my conduct at 
 Binnakers ; and told me also, that whenever she left the ''stand," she 
 went to the tent to cry, and to ask the Lord to convict and turn me from 
 my wicked course. You can imagine how I felt — how much I regretted 
 my conduct. 
 
GETTING INTO DIFFICULTIES. 27 
 
 step aside with him, and, apologizing for the liberty he was 
 taking in speaking to me regarding my conduct, he told 
 me that he was well acquainted with the gentleman I was 
 annoying, and that he was much shocked at my behaviour. 
 He informed me further, that unless I stopped, the gentleman 
 intended to have satisfaction. He also requested me to give 
 him my address, telling me also, that he knew that his 
 friend would not submit to an insult ; and that he would 
 advise me to desist, or perhaps our party might be invited 
 across the Savannah river to settle the difficulty. My reply 
 was, that I was more determined than ever to go on, and 
 he left me, with a sad face. I then sought my friends, and 
 told them of the interview, and we were fully resolved to 
 persist in spite of all consequences.* 
 
 The 8 o'clock sermon had been preached. We were all 
 drilled and prepared for the execution of our plan, and at 
 the conclusion of the next service, it was to be my turn to 
 annoy the couple — we having made up our minds to be 
 more insulting than ever. So far, I had not heard the 
 whole of a sermon since I had been there. While our party 
 was in a tent at lunch, and the 11 o'clock service had been 
 going on for some time, all at once I felt impressed that I 
 ought to go to the stand. I made known my intention to 
 my friends, who tried to persuade me to remain ; but I told 
 them that on my return home my father would question 
 me about the meeting, and that it would never do for me 
 to tell him I had not heard one sermon. I was resolved to 
 go, and I left them thinking that they had no idea of 
 attending; although, soon after I took my seat, they camo 
 and sat just behind me, as I was afterwards told. 
 
 I went to the stand, as I then thought, only through 
 respect for my father. Since then, however, I have thought 
 that it was the influence of the Holy Spirit which drew me 
 to the place where, as I now believe, I was to have my last 
 offer of mercy — if accepted, religion — if refused, no further 
 
 ^ I have often thought, what melancholy results were arrested by my 
 being struck down by the power of the Lord ; for that stopped our plan 
 at once. I never met the gentleman afterwards without feeling ashamed 
 of myself. 
 
28 STRAY LKAVES. 
 
 olTcr ; that it was tho Saviour of my dear Episcopalian 
 mother, long gone to heaven, about to give her prodigal 
 son his last hope of meeting her in tho green fields of Eden 
 when the warfare of life is o'er. And 1 have often thought 
 what a momentous crisis of my life that was — how my 
 eternal destiny hung tremblingly in the balance. And more- 
 over, I have ever felt thankful, that I did not know who 
 was to preach at that hour-; for had I known, perhaps I 
 never would have gone, since it was the same proj^^lfer of 
 whom I had made sport the preceding day. I was much 
 disappointed when Ifiscertained that he — the Kev. William 
 Crook — was to preach.* 
 
 The text on the occasion was — " For the great day of 
 his wrath is come ; and who shall be able to stand?" And 
 many have since pronounced it to be the best sermon that 
 Brother Crook had ever preached. y The sermon was al- 
 most half over before I became interested. The preacher 
 finally spoke of those who will not stand. He dwelt with 
 much force on this portion of his text, and I felt the draw- 
 ings from above. The preacher draws near the conclusion 
 of his sermon, and describes the day as now come — the 
 whole world now stands before the face of the dread Eter- 
 nal — tho countless multitudes are judged as they have 
 lived — the final sentence is passed — the crowd is divided on 
 right and left — the last parting takes place— the father bids 
 his son, the mother her daughter, an eternal farewell. My 
 
 * I have since heard more than one preacher, who was present, say- 
 that the presiding elder, previous to the blowing of the horn to call the 
 people to the stand, called the preachers together in the tent, and told 
 them that the meeting had not been as good as he expected, and that he 
 was aware, that there were many very wicked persons on the ground ; 
 and he requested them to engage in serious prayer before service — which 
 they did, not without experiencing much good, for the Lord blessed 
 them, and it was from His presence they went to the stand. Those 
 preachers were not disappointed, for one of the best meetings ever held at 
 Binnakers was the result of their prayers. 
 
 f That meeting has been long remembered by many. Even now per- 
 sons often speak to me of that time. Eecently, one of our Bishops told 
 me, that he was there at the time — a little boy, only seven years old — 
 but that he remembers my distressed face as I went to the altar. 
 
BROKEN DOWN. 29 
 
 feelings at this time can never be imagined. Horror, 
 awful, indescribable horror, took full possession of my soul. 
 I saw myself weighed in the balance and found wanting. 
 I f©U that my doom had b^en declared to me — that I was 
 on the left hand of the Judge, and without the saving 
 mercy of God I would remain there at the judgment day. 
 My sins stared me in the face; I felt that should I die at 
 this moment, I would be doomed eternally. I trembled 
 under the conviction that was upon me. I had never felt 
 so much before in all my life. I thought that the last offer 
 of mercy was now extended to me. 
 
 The sermon over, the great moment of action arrived. 
 Mourners were called up. I had never before exposed my- 
 self thus to even a few persons. Shall I now go up before 
 these thousands who are gazing at me? Shall I, who had 
 been conducting myself so shamefully, now approach God's 
 throne ? Shall I go up to be laughed at by mj^ gay friends, 
 who will say, " those shouting Methodists at Binnaivcrs had 
 you down at last" ? But then, to be lost for ever ! to be 
 separated from my sainted mother eternally ! I started for 
 the altar, still ashamed of what I was doinc:.* I remember 
 even now, how ashamed I felt at that m.oment. You may 
 form some idea of this when you are told that at first I 
 would not kneel ; but I stood up, holding on to a post, 
 trembling most violently. My convictions were overwhelm- 
 ing : while the others were kneeling I stood up, yet ex- 
 pecting every moment to fall prostrate.f It occurred to 
 me that I had better kneel than fall ; and I was soon on my 
 knees, praying for mercy — my proud notions all gone. My 
 agony of soul cannot be described. I dreaded sinking into 
 
 * Several persons have since told me, that my friend Proteus caught 
 at me as I left, and that he barely missed my coat. I feel grateful that 
 he failed ; for had I at that moment met with the least resistance, I 
 would have yielded, perhaps to my eternal ruin. I think, that if he had 
 said, "Oh, Valentine! 'tis your much-loved Proteus who calls you; 
 come back," I would have stopped. 
 
 t Persons have since told me that they did not expect me to keep my 
 feet many minutes. 
 
30 sti:ay ij:aves. 
 
 that otenial tiro, and I resolvoil to ])ray to the Kast — that, if 
 lost, I would die jirayin^Tor mercy. 
 
 The ]irayor was over — all had loft ; but 1 remained pray- 
 ing for mercy, pleading the name of Jesus, my only hope, 
 my only plea. The Captain of the Fish-pond Company 
 remained for many hours at the altar, in hitter agony.* 
 There I remained until near sun-down, nor left till the 
 friend whom I had tried to induce to leave the ground — 
 Dr A.— came to me, and asked me to go into the woods with 
 him, where the two friends, now more closely united than 
 ever, conversed together and advised with each other I 
 felt somewhat relieved, but was still much depressed in 
 spirit. f 
 
 The last night of the meeting had arrived. So far, I had 
 not thought much about joining the church. I was still 
 unconverted. The door of the church was opened, and I 
 joined it, and never have I regretted it. I had come out 
 as fully from the world as I could. I had burnt the b'ridge 
 behind me. I was in the way of salvation. I felt sooie- 
 thing within me that convinced me that I had done right. 
 My distress, though not all gone, was much lessened. I 
 retired to rest late at night. Oh, what a change! The 
 sun rose upon me that day so very wicked, so very near 
 the gates of hell. That same sun went down on me an 
 humble mourner, so near the redemption of his soul ! At a 
 very Hte hour I was still awake, and the impression was 
 strong upon me, '' if you will now, even at this late hour, 
 give your heart to God in earnest prayer, you shall now be 
 
 * Some gentleman expected me to dine at his tent, and I was told 
 afterwards that he waited for me for a long time, sending a servant to 
 inquire for me, who reported to him that I was still at the altar. 
 
 f It was noised abroad that I had gone to the altar. My brother-in- 
 law afterwards told me, that "Proteus" was much distressed ; that he 
 was seen walking about much troubled ; that he asked him what was 
 the matter; and he replied with a sigh — " Valentine has left me ; he has 
 started for heaven, and Proteus is not ready to go with him." I suspect 
 as soon as I went to the altar, my mother saw me, and blessed her Lord 
 that her prodigal son was coming home to the church; and that her 
 spirit hovered over me in all my agony, and was near to rejoice when 
 my sins were forgiven. 
 
JOINING THE CHUPwCH. 31 
 
 converted, your sins forgiven." It seemed to me that the 
 spirit of my mother was whispering to her son to pray, 
 that the Lord would bless him. I was on my knees again 
 directly, and I then and there received the blessing, though 
 not in all its fullness. A sweet peace came over me, which 
 no unrenewed heart has ever felt. A blessed calm filled my 
 soul. My troubles, my sorrows were gone. My mother 
 seemed to whisper to me, "Son, did I not tell you so!" 
 Oh, that never to be forgotten hour! I was blessed. I was 
 converted. The prodigal had returned to his heavenly 
 Father- that Father had thrown his arms around his neck, 
 and had welcomed him with a kiss of love. 
 
 My friend, Dr. Ayer, seemed quite surprised at my joining 
 the church, as I did not tell him that I was going to do so. 
 He had informed me that he had made up his mind to do 
 80, but did not know when ; that perhaps several months 
 would pass before he would be able to do it. But he now 
 said, that if he had been present when I joined, he would 
 have gone with me, and appeared much pleased that I had 
 done so. The next morning he concluded that he could not 
 wait any longer, and he joined also. 
 
 On Monday morning. Brother Bass called up all who 
 thought they had been blessed at the meeting. We both 
 went forward among the happy number. Oh ! how happy 
 I was when I left the camp ground, having been blessed 
 again at the last prayer. I set out for home, exulting in 
 the forgiveness of my sins ; the love of the Lord was shed 
 abroad in my blood-washed soul. Hell had been defeated ; 
 Heaven had won the glorious day. There is joy in heaven 
 over the conversion of one sinner. 
 
 Now let us follow those young converts, the Doctor and 
 the Captain, rejoicing on their homeward journey. How 
 they commune, and converse, and exult together, happy in 
 the blessed hope of heaven. After riding thus for some dis- 
 tance, the young Captain was struck very forcibly with the 
 thought that perhaps his father would not approve of his 
 joining the church without first consulting him; for though 
 not a member, he had a strong preference for the Episcopal 
 church. This thought troubles him, and he concludes to 
 
32 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 say notliing about his having; joined, but to let his changed 
 courso speak for him. His iriend asks, if he is going to tell 
 his father at once, or to wait. IIo replies, that ho will not 
 broach the subject for some time. What a picture is now 
 presented ! It is now time for the two young converts to 
 part, as their roads separate here — having just crossed the 
 Cedar Spring ford The Captain will now turn to the left ; 
 the Doctor will continue in the same road. Dr. A. takes 
 his friend by the hand, and says to him, "I will not leave 
 you, until you promise to tell your father as soon as you 
 reach home — even before you have your horse put up ;" and 
 he hold his hand until he gave the desired promise, telling 
 him at the same time to continue to ride at the same gait 
 at which they had been travelling, so that he could form an 
 idea when he would reach home. He tells him, " When I 
 think you are telling your father, I will be engaged in 
 prayer in your behalf. I am convinced that all will bo 
 right " We part ; and I ride on slowly, feeling happy, and 
 trying to sing. Unfortunately, I belong to that class who 
 cannot raise a tune ; still I try to sing — 
 
 " Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone, 
 He v/hom I fix my hopes upon." 
 
 I reach the place where I delivered my political speech 
 to the trees on Saturday last. There I stop, dismount, and 
 fall on my knees, thanking the Lord for what he has done, 
 and begging for more grace. 1 set out again as agreed 
 upon, sometimes thinking that my father will be angry 
 with me, and then again hoping for the best. Although I 
 have not been a member of the church quite a day, still 
 I put much confidence in prayer, and expect my friend will 
 soon be remembering me before the throne of grace. I at 
 last reach home, and hitch my horse without taking off the 
 saddle, and then proceed to the house, and tell my father 
 what has taken place, at the same time begging him to for- 
 give me for all I had ever done to wound his feelings. He 
 is much moved, and forgives me all -telling me he had 
 heard of it before I got home. He told me, that he would 
 have preferred my joining the church of his choice, but that 
 
LICENSED AND OEDAINED. 33 
 
 next to that, he liked the Methodist church; and that he 
 hoped I would do well, and that the Lord would bless me. 
 He told me also, that he had seen some of his friends that 
 day, who thought he was sorry I had joined the Methodist 
 church, and that they told him they had clubbed together, 
 and woi-'ld have me back in the world in six months at most. 
 But my father said, he hoped that, with the help of the 
 Lord, l would disappoint them. I knew that I alone could 
 not resist them. More than thirty five years (October, 1866) 
 have passed |?y, and I am still in the church,^ and I hope on 
 my way to heaven. 
 
 Before my six months' probation had passed, I was ap- 
 pointed junior class-leader by Brother Adams, at Pine Grove 
 church, to which allusion has already been made. Brother 
 Dunwody received me into full connection ; I remember the 
 occasion well. He told me, that they were satisfied with 
 me; but that if I desired to withdraw my name I was at 
 liberty to do so. With tears in my eyes I told him, that 
 my wish was to live and die with them. 
 
 I remained class-leader for some time, and after the lapse 
 of some years I began to exhort ; but I was in the church 
 for several years before I was licensed to preach, which was 
 I think thirty-one years last July. As my papers were 
 burned some five years ago, I may have forgotten some of 
 the dates. I think Bishop Andrew ordained me deacon, in 
 Camden, in the year 1840, and four years after I was or- 
 dained elder by Bishop Soule, in Columbia. I owe all that 
 I am to my Heavenly Father, to whose name be all the 
 glory. I have again and again said and done things for 
 which I have felt very sorry afterwards ; but I hope that 
 my blessed Saviour has forgiven me all. 
 
LEAF THE FOUETH. 
 
 THE DREAM THAT WAS REPEATED; AND HOW- DR S WAS 
 
 CONVICTED AND CONVERTED. 
 
 More than thirty-one years ago (186G), there was a gen- 
 tleman, a phj'sician of much intelligence, well known to me, 
 and I respected him very much. I will call him Dr. S. 
 Though he was an upright man, and highly respected in 
 his neighborhood, he was not a member of the church, and 
 very seldom attended our church. , At that time I was an 
 exhorter, and I often wished that the Doctor had religion ; 
 for we met frequently, and usually spent our time very 
 pleasantly together, and I thought that if he were a Chris- 
 tian it would be a great help to me. I had often desired to 
 speak to him on the subject, but at that time I was young 
 in the cause, and I dreaded ^he opposition with which I 
 might meet ; for I was easily repulsed if I met with a smile 
 of ridicule or contempt, and was afraid of making him more 
 distant towards me, should I fail in persuading him to come 
 out on the Lord's side. 
 
 What I am now relating happened so long ago that I 
 cannot recall to mind all the incidents connected therewith, 
 but those of most importance can never be forgott<^n. 
 
 Time passed on thus for years, with Dr. S. and myself, 
 when one night J[ dreamed that I saw the Saviour, as I had 
 once seen him in a dream years before. He was standing 
 quite near me, as described in the book of Revelation, and 
 said to me, speaking of my friend Dr. S., '' Unless he gets 
 religion, and joins the church in twelve months, when he 
 dies, he will be lost." 
 
 The vision vanished. I was very much impressed, and 
 slept but little during the rest of the night. It seemed to 
 me that I must tell the Doctor about it — that it was the 
 Lord's will that I should do so. I knew not what to do. 
 I dreaded beino: laughed at. Oh! how well. I remember 
 that day, and how I tried to pray for him. The next night, 
 strange to say, I dreamed the same thing again. My feel- 
 
A DUTY NEGLECTED. 35 
 
 ings cannot now be told. It seemed to me more than ever 
 that I ought to tell him about it. 
 
 I have often thought the Lord brought Dr. S. to see me 
 the next morning, that I might tell him the dream; for soon 
 after breakfast he rode up, and asked me to ride with him. 
 We were alone for several hours — my thoughts dwelling on 
 the solemn dream. Duty prompted me to tell him. I made 
 many efforts to do so, but failed each time, being afraid of 
 being laughed at or repulsed in some way. The Doctor 
 saw, and said, that something was on my mind. I told him 
 he was right ; but even then I dreaded to tell him. Wo 
 travelled on. I have seldom had such an unpleasant ride. 
 At last he said, that he knew I was much troubled, and felt 
 hurt that I would not tell ^him the cause, as he thought he 
 was entitled to my confidence. Even then I could not 
 speak of it. Thus we parted. I was much cast down, and 
 felt that I had done wrong, and was sorry for it. I have 
 always being willing to bear with persons,, who, when they 
 first join the church, are timid and dread to take up the 
 cross; for I remember so well my neglecting to do my duty, 
 being afraid of being laughed at. I was in the church for 
 years, before I would hold family prayers in the presence of 
 persons who were not members. I would wait until after 
 they had retired, and then do that which ought to have 
 been done before them. When I recall the past, I see so 
 many things which I regret^ — so much want of Christian 
 fortitude and firmness — so maiay duties neglected — and so 
 ~many things done, for which I felt sorry afterwards. 
 
 Dr. S. and I parted ; and for a long time I prayed for him 
 twice daily ; but after a while I ceased praying so often, 
 and the time came when I did not pray for him individually 
 in my private devotions. The twelve months were passing 
 away. I sometimes thought of my dream, and felt very 
 sadly; but the Lord was then drawing the Doctor to liim- 
 self. He had a servant who ran away, and was taken up 
 and put in jail, some distance from home. He heard of it 
 through the papers. He left for the place, which I will call 
 
 E , where, not many years before, there had been quite 
 
 an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Yery many persons had 
 
36 STKAY LEAVES. 
 
 boon converted, and luid joined the church. The good im- 
 pression made then was not all gone, and the citizens often 
 mot in difTorcnt houses for singing and prayer. Now, it so 
 happened that Dr. S. arrived in town on ono of thoso 
 evenings devoted to prayer. lie told mo, tliat he w^as 
 seriously affected by the singing, and wished that ho had 
 reliirion. IIo found when he arrived at the friend's house 
 where he expected to spend the night, that the prayer- 
 meeting was to be there, and not feeling worthy to remain 
 with them, he went to the hotel — thinking that if he only 
 lived in E , he would get religion. 
 
 One day some time afterward, he dined with me. Ho 
 observed to me suddenly, that he had a great mind to go to 
 
 E to live. I asked if he was going there for the health 
 
 of his family? He said, no. I then inquired if he was 
 going there to practice medicine? He replied, that in that 
 respect he would do better to remain where he was. Up to 
 this moment I had no thought of his being under serious 
 impressions ; and was much surprised when he said very 
 seriously, that if he could live there for three months he 
 would be converted ; and that he would give the world, if 
 he had it, for religion. I was overwhelmed with astonish- 
 ment. I remained silent for some time, but replied after a 
 while, "You can get religion at home just as well as there." 
 
 He could not believe it; but said, he thought E was the 
 
 best place in the world. All this was so unexpected, that I 
 failed to improve the opportunity of speaking to him on the 
 subject he had introduced. We separated without my say- 
 ing anything more; but in my secret soul I felt thankful, 
 and afterwards I began to pray for him frequently. 
 
 Some time after this, he attended one of our camp-meet- 
 ings, and became seriously impressed, and wentto the altar 
 for prayer. He went home without experiencing a change, 
 but deeply convicted, and began holding familj^ prayer. He 
 afterwards told me how much surprised he was, that I did 
 not speak to him on the subject of religion while at my 
 house —that he fully expected me to do so, and was much 
 disappointed that I failed to do so, expecting to be invited 
 there to prayer meetings ; and he said he thought me a 
 
DOCTOR S IS (X)NVERTED. 37 
 
 poor cxhorter. Thus was I reproved, and I embraced the 
 offered opportunity, and spoke for my blessed Master. I 
 told him that I would be glad to see him at my house on 
 such a day, which was near at hand — that I expected a 
 brother-exhorter to be present on that day, and that we 
 would have a prayer-meeting for him. He said he would 
 bo glad to come. He said he thought that a great difficulty 
 with him would be, that he did not believe in the Saviour 
 as he ought to do— that for years he ha'd been praying to 
 the Father, but not to the Son, and when that difficulty 
 was removed he thought he could get religion. Thus wo 
 knew how to advise him and pray for him. 
 
 On the appointed night, Dr. S. was there, much dis- 
 tressed. The wife of one of our preachers was with us. 
 She was a sweet singer. We had a good meeting. My 
 brother-exhorter was a good man, full of faith, and spoke 
 much to the point while addressing the Doctor — who 
 complained of a great oppression in his chest. After a 
 while, he begged us to walk out with him- When on the 
 road, he requested us to pray for him right there, and knelt 
 down, his heart almost broken. We remained with him for 
 more than hour, and then • told him, as it was quite late, 
 perhaps he had best go home, as his family might become 
 uneasy. I told him that such a preacher would be at our 
 house on a certain night, and that he must come, and wo 
 would have prayer for him again. 
 
 The appointed time had come, and the preacher was 
 present, it was a lovely night j the virgin moon shone 
 most beautifully. As the sweet Swan of Avon would say — 
 
 "She tipped with silver all the fruit-tree tops." 
 
 Dr. S. arrived, more distressed if possible, than before. 
 The same scenes were passed through again : we sang and 
 prayed tor some time. Dr. S. being most powerfully im- 
 pressed. He begged us to go out with him again, and 
 proposed another direction. He was so troubled that he 
 could not walk alone, and we supported him on each side. 
 
 " Doctor," said the preacher, " what would you give for 
 religion ?" 
 
38 STKAY LEAVES. 
 
 *' Sir," paid he, '* I will give my wife i\n<\ two children; 
 and the Lord only knows how I love them " 
 
 He would have fallen, had we not been holding him. 
 "Doctor," said the preacher, " 3-011 are very near conver- 
 sion; there is but one step between you and salvation." 
 Dr. S. said he had been laboring for some time under a 
 groat oppression in his breast; that he had been thinking 
 a strong dose of calomel would relieve him. I suspect only 
 myself and the virgin moon saw the sligiit smile which 
 passed over the preacher's face as he said, " Doctor, 'tis 
 religion you want; the weight will be removed when the 
 Lord blesses your soul, which I believe he will soon do." 
 
 We went only a few yards farther, when he fell on his 
 knees, and the preacher prayed for him, and he felt that his 
 sins were forgiven. We arose from our knees, and he 
 threw his arms around the preacher's neck, and said, '' Oh, 
 sirLyou do not know how much I love you." Then Dr. S. 
 exulted aloud; he was. very happy, and we rejoiced with 
 him. On our way from the house we had to support him^ 
 he could not walk for the sorrow of his heart ; on our re- 
 turn, we still supported him, he could not walk then for the 
 joy of his soul. I regard that night as one of the happiest 
 of my life. As we passed on to the house the preacher said, 
 <' JNow, Doctor, how about that oppression at the heart?" 
 Dr. S. replied, with a heavenly smile, which I see even now 
 upon his face, " Oh ! sir, it is all gone." 
 
 We had arrived at the steps ; he was perfectly carried 
 away with his happy emotions. Just as we were on the top. 
 step, the Doctor shouted aloud. We entered the house, and 
 Dr. S., in passing across the room, came near falling; but 
 he approached my wife, and shook her hand heartily, say- 
 ing, " Oh ! I feel so happy." He said, it was much easier 
 to get religion than he thought it was ; it was only to give 
 your heart to the Lord. 
 
 Some days after this, my wife said to me, " How about 
 that dream?" — some ten months having transpired since I 
 had the dream. But Dr. S. had been converted, and was 
 rejoicing in his God. 
 
LEAF THE FIFTH. 
 
 HOW DR. S JOINED THE CHURCH — AND THE MERCHANT DID 
 
 NOT SELL THE HEAVY BILL THAT DAY AS WAS EX- 
 PECTED. 
 
 Dr S. Had been happily converted, and the oppression at 
 his heart was all gone, and he rejoiced in the great hope of 
 his salvation. He told me, that on that famous night while 
 going home, it appeared to him that he was stepping higher 
 than the trees along the road. He asked me if I remem- 
 bered having spoken to him on the subject of religion, in 
 his own house, and in my eagerness placing my hand on his 
 shoulder, and that he turned suddenly round, with his back 
 to me I told him that I remembered it well ; and that my 
 reason for leaving so soon afterwards, was because I thought 
 liis feelings were wounded^ He said his reason lor turning 
 from me was to conceal his emotion, for he was weeping 
 while he had his face turned away ; that had he followed 
 his inclination he would then have asked me to pray 
 for him. 
 
 The great object of Dr. S. now was the salvation of his 
 much-loved wife. He often told me of his anxiety on her 
 account. She appeared rather indifferent ; but we often 
 prayed in her behalf. I sometimes went over and had 
 prayer at his house ; and thus things remained for some 
 time. This was prior to his joining the church ; his family 
 believed in another communion, and I said nothing to him 
 on the subject, thinking that . they might conclude I was 
 trjnng to persuade him to unite with our church. During 
 my whole life, I have ever been careful on that point — al- 
 ways counselling friends to join the church of their choice; 
 notwithstanding I have always been glad to have persons 
 unite with our church — doubly so, when I thought they 
 w^ould become a help to us, with the blessing of God. Some 
 months after this, Dr. S. told me he had made up his mind 
 to join our church — knowing full well that some of his 
 near relatives would object to his doing so ; one particularly 
 
40 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 would bo much luirt, and it would bo a groat crosa for him 
 to take up; but he would put his trust in the Lord, and go 
 where his heart was. He, however, said nothing to his 
 wife about it, wishing it to bo kept a profound secret, and 
 w^anting to take her by surprise. He said he wanted her to; 
 go with him ; that he would be much hurt if she joined any 
 other church, and he requested me to say nothing about it to 
 any one except my wife. He did not know when he could 
 unite with us, as he wanted liis wife to be present when ho 
 did so. He thought a sudden surprise would make a good 
 impression on her, and perhaps she herself might unite with 
 the church at the same time, or soon afterwards. 
 
 He told me finally, one day, that his wife had at last pro- 
 mised to go to church with him, not knowing what were 
 his intentions. He also wanted my wife to go with us. 
 Soaie time after, the Doctor's wife told mine that she had 
 no idea why her husband was so anxious to have her go 
 with him on that occasion ; that he begged her very hard to 
 go, telling her he would give her anything she wanted ; and 
 that she finally promised to accompany him, provided he 
 would let her go to a store near by, and buy anything she 
 wanted. He promised to let her do so, if she would first go 
 with him to church. She said she had made up her mind 
 to get a great many things, whether she needed them or 
 not , and that she rather thought he would have a heavy 
 bill to pay that day. The day arrived, and we went to the 
 church — situated near the Edisto river. The preacher had 
 not yet arrived, and we were much disappointed. There 
 were not many persons present, but among them was the 
 exhorter at our first prayer-meeting held in behalf of Dr. S. 
 We were told that the preacher would not come, and Bro- 
 C. and myself had to conduct the meeting. Several per- 
 sons bad come out for the purpose of joining the church, 
 and did not wish to wait any longer, and they requested us 
 to open the door, which we concluded to do. AYe agreed to 
 conduct the meeting thus : — Brother C. was to open with 
 prayer, giving each one an opportunity to relate his ex- 
 perience, after which we would have an exhortation and 
 prayer, and then open the doors, which would conclude the 
 
 ^ 
 
DOCTOR S JOIjS'S THE CHURCH. 41 
 
 service. The blessed Spirit was present, and we had a glo- 
 rious time. First one and then another, would tell us what 
 the Lord had done for them. I spoke to the Doctor's wife 
 about religion ; she ajDpeared provoked, and I left her. She 
 afterwards said, she never was so angi-jj^in her life as then, 
 to think that I should presume to speak to her in the church 
 concerning her soul ! The meeting went on under the blessed 
 influences of the Holy Spirit ; we were sitting in heavenly 
 places. I no longer thought of speaking to Dr. S.'s wife ; 
 she was sitting on the opposite side, looking very defiantly. 
 She afterwards said, she was determined to show the Metho- 
 dists that day that she would not be moved — that she would 
 not shed a tear ; no, she would not ; and that she was deter- 
 mined the Doctor should have a heavy bill to pay for bring- 
 ing her there that day. 
 
 The time for those who wanted to join had come. While 
 the hymn was being sung, Dr. S. came forward ; then fol- 
 lowed a venerable man, and then others. I then turned to 
 look at the Doctor's wife. She had fallen from her seat, 
 overpowered with strong emotions. She told her friends 
 afterwards, that she was never so sui-prised in her life. Her 
 first thought was — "If he had only told me of his intentions, 
 I would have gone with him;" but the second thought which 
 occurred was — "You are unworthy to do so; for did you not 
 get very vexed just now, when spoken to about religion ?" 
 
 After this, we remained in church for some time, singing 
 and praying. I will not try to describe the feelings of the 
 Doctor ; for who can tell the thoughts of his heart ? The 
 meeting was then closed ; but the store was not visited ; the 
 merchant did not sell the heavy bill ; for the Doctor's wife 
 appeared as much troubled as he had been while under con- 
 viction — he having to support her as she left the church. 
 She went home in great agony of soul ; but at last found the 
 pearl of great price, and united herself with the church. 
 
LEAF THE SJXTII. 
 
 DR. S — 4h 1^' ni« FIRST LOVE-FEAST. 
 
 Dr. S. and his wife were now united together in the Lord, 
 and we were united with a few others, who loved the Lord,- 
 in having meetingn sometimes, where we enjoyed ourselves 
 in singing and praying. In some respects, the Doctor dif- 
 fered from myself and others around him. He said we ought 
 to enjoy ourselves in a calm, silent way — that it was better 
 thus to pass along through an unfriendly world to glory 
 and to heaven. When alone, he often spoke to me on this 
 subject; but I thought there was no harm for a man, whose 
 sins the Lord had forgiven, when he felt so inclined, to shout 
 aloud and praise his God — knowing that the old saints thus 
 praised their Maker, there being proof of this in holy vrrit. 
 We often spoke of our difference of opinion, but always in a 
 friendly manner. He told me, he knew he had praised the 
 Lord aloud when he was converted, but that was an extra- 
 ordinary occasion, and he could not help himself. He did 
 not think, though, that he would ever be so moved again ; 
 for he had made up his mind to pass through this life very 
 gently — manifesting no violent emotions at any time — that 
 no one should ever know he had religion, unless they saw it 
 in his changed life. 
 
 Thus things passed on — the Doctor happy in his Saviour's 
 love. Some time after this, there was to be a two days' 
 meeting near by, and I prayed for, and expected, a gracious 
 outpouring of the Spirit. Some time before, the Doctor said 
 to me, " I expect you will speak in the love-feast." I replied 
 that I expected to, as I had never been in one without say- 
 ing something for the Lord. He thought it but right that 
 preachers, class-leaders, and exhorters should speak if they 
 felt like it; but other members ought not to say anything; 
 that he expected to enjoy himself as much as any one who 
 would be there, but had made up his mind never to speak in 
 love-feast ; that as he sailed along the river of life there 
 would be no noise, no ripple in the water; that persons 
 
DOCTOR S BEGINS TO GIVE WAY. 43 
 
 would never find out that he had religion, if they depended 
 on his speaking in public. I told him I thought his friends 
 would be glad to hear him speak in love-feast ; but to do as 
 he thought best. 
 
 The time for the meeting at the chapel arrived. Let us 
 imagine that holy Sabbath morning, more than thirty years 
 ago. The hour for love-feast had come — there being a good 
 turn-out for the neighborhood. That blessed man of God — 
 that primitive Methodist minister — Brother Bass, conducted 
 the meeting, other ministers being present. The house was 
 closed, and singing and prayer were over; the exhortation 
 had been gone through with, and the bread and water were 
 being passed round ; and our never-to-be-forgotten love-feast 
 had a happy beginning. Brother Bass told us something of 
 the dealings of the Lord with him — of his long course of 
 trials and sorrows. The tears stole down the veteran's face 
 as he begged us to pray for him, and told us of the strong 
 hope he had of reaching the happy land, where all is peace 
 and joy for evermore. In conclusion, he told us he would 
 be glad to hear from any of us how we were coming on, on 
 our way to glory. There was much feeling among us. 
 
 I remembered what Dr. S. had said, and glanced at him. 
 He seemed to be under some emotion, but looked as if he 
 had made up his mind to master it. Another preacher arose, 
 and carried us back to his early life, when he was a wicked, 
 graceless youth, bound for perdition, without Christ and 
 hope. He spoke of his praying mother, who often told him 
 of the love of the Saviour ; and that he was at last made to 
 see his condition, and knew there was no hope for him but 
 through the redemption of God ; but that one day, which he 
 could never forget, the Lord pardoned him. 
 
 Some one then — Brother Holman, I think — sung a few 
 lines of a beautiful hymn ; and there was then a shout in the 
 camp. I again glanced at Dr. S., who appeared so much ex- 
 cited that he could not keep still. 
 
 I then arose, and had much to say of what the Holy One 
 of Israel had done for my poor soiil. I spoke of my mother, 
 who I knew was in heaven. I alluded to my past life — spoke 
 of my wickedness during my first years : that before that 
 
44 STRAY LEAVJvS. 
 
 memorable meetin*; iit BiimakcrH J had been extremely 
 wicked; but that I was then ])Oweriully convicted, and 
 joined the church before I got reli^rion, but was noon after 
 converted. 1 told them I expected to get to heaven, and 
 knew I would there meet my Bainted mother. After which, 
 1 asked an interest in their prayerH, and eat down. 
 
 Dr. S. was under powerful impressions, but was trying 
 hard to retain his seat — holding on to the bench in front 
 with both hands. There seemed to be a giant effort on his 
 part to adhere to his determination not to say anything in 
 his first love-feast. We had a blessed time ; the Lord was 
 in his holy temple, and his servants were exulting in the 
 God of their salvation. Another beautiful hymn was sung 
 by Brother H., and we had another shout in the camp. An- 
 other member then got up, but was so excited that he could 
 not say much ; he told us though of his boundless love for 
 the Saviour, and hoped he would never return to the world, 
 preferring, if it was the Lord's will, to die rather than back- 
 slide and quit the church. 
 
 I again glanced at the Doctor, who was still holding on to 
 the bench, looking as if he would soon fall prostrate. There 
 was another shout and clapping of hands, in which the 
 preachers joined heartily. Dr. S. could stand it no longer ; 
 hell was disappointed, heaven had triumphed, and the holy 
 angels were rejoicing. Oh, my soul ! what a glorious time 
 we had ! He rose, and told us he could hardly speak for his 
 strong emotions ; that he had made up his mind never to 
 speak in love-feast, for he thought it wrong to do so, and 
 that he had told a friend He never would do so ; and he had 
 never tried, in all his life, as he had done that morning, to 
 keep his seat, but could not do it. He told us, how happy 
 he was that he was bound for heaven, and his dear wife was 
 going with him. He requested us to pray i'or him, hoping 
 we would all meet in heaven to part no more for ever. 
 
 I think there is more than one ransomed soul in glory 
 who remembers that blessed love-feast, which was as good 
 as I have ever been in. Brother Bass seemed as if he was 
 looking over the flood into the green fields of Eden, and that 
 he was listening to the harps of glory by the banks of the 
 
SPEAKS A SECOND TIME. 45 
 
 river, which makes glad the city of the Lord. The glorious 
 tide of deep feeling swept on through the joyous throng 
 present in the church, while some of those who were outside, 
 waiting for the preaching of the word, were impressed by 
 the great Spirit. Among them, a brother told me, he saw 
 my father looking through a window, with the tears stream- 
 ing from his e^'es. On went the love-feast, with the tide of 
 devotion bearing everything before it. Several others spoke 
 near the close of the meeting. Dr. S. again rose, with a 
 smile of joy on his face. I have no doubt many holy spirits 
 were hovering near. He said, if we would excuse him, he 
 would speak again. Brother Bass said we would be glad to 
 hear from him. Among other things, he said, he could not 
 tell us how happy he felt, that although he did not expect 
 to speak at all, he now wanted to speak the seconcl time. If 
 I had never clapped my hands and shouted "farewell 
 world" before, I think I would have learned, how, at that 
 love-feast. 
 
 '^ Jesus, all the day long 
 
 Was my joy and my song : 
 that all his salvation might see ! 
 
 He hath loved me, I cried, 
 
 He hath sufifered and died, 
 To redeem a poor rebel like me. 
 
 " the rapturous height 
 
 Of that holy delight 
 Which I felt in the life-giving blood ! 
 
 Of my Saviour possessed, 
 
 I was perfectly blessed, 
 As if filled with the fulness of God. ' ' 
 
LEAF THE SEYEXTII. 
 
 DR. S , AFTER ADVISING AND ENTREATING HIS FRIEND TO 
 
 REFRAIN FROM SHOUTING AT AN EXPECTED MEETING, IS 
 THE FIRST HEARD FROM. 
 
 Did you ever, brother preacher of the gospel, have a friend, 
 that 3'ou thought much of, who did not think it right for 
 persons to give way to their feelings, and thought that some- 
 times harm wae done by it, and made great efforts to control 
 himself, but who could not always succeed, as now and then 
 he would be heard from like the sound of many waters, but 
 afterwards be much mortified and ashamed of it, and go to 
 work to recover his self-command ? Such a friend was Dr. 
 S. to me. I used to think in those days, that I preferred 
 to hear a shout from Dr. S. more than any man I knew. 
 He used to make a brave and gallant effort to restrain him- 
 self, and often succeeded ; but once in a while the tide of 
 emotion would be too strong for him, and he would then bo 
 heard from like the mighty whirlwind, sweeping everything 
 before it ; and after the excitement would pass off*, he would 
 be in the very depth of the valley, low down, very low down. 
 No text would suit him so well as, " Why art thou cast 
 down, oh, my soul ; and why art thou disquieted within 
 me?" He would now have very little to say; his head 
 bowed down like a bulrush ; thinking everybody was looking 
 at him — some in sympathy for, and others finding fault with, 
 him; it would be some time before he would recover the 
 even tenor of his way. It would now take a tremendous 
 power to arouse him to the strong fever heat again. 
 
 For several weeks after our love-feast. Dr. S. seemed to be 
 uneasy while with me, appearing to be much troubled about ^ 
 something. I suspected what it was, but said nothing, 
 thinking, though, that I knew a thing or two. He did not 
 appear as much at home in my company as formerly. Thus 
 several months passed off. I suspected he was gathering 
 fresh strength for another effort for self-control, and that he 
 would not again approach the debatable subject until he 
 
DOCTOR S PROMISES AMENDMENT. 47 
 
 thought he was master of his emotion. I understood it all, 
 though I said nothing. 
 
 The Doctor was called on by some of his friends to pray 
 in public. He never refused, but did not like it, and told us 
 as much. He prayed fervently, as if the words came from 
 his heart, and they never failed to reach the hearts of others. 
 The time came when he thought he could approach the sub- 
 ject in a proper manner. Once, when we were alone, he said 
 to me, he suspected I was much surprised at his speaking 
 twice in our love-feast, after making up his mind to say 
 nothing. I told him I was ; but thought it added much 
 to the interest of the meeting. He replied, that he was 
 ashamed of himself afterwards ; but he knew it would never 
 happen again, for he could control himself much better the 
 next time, as he was prepared, and had made up his mind 
 more fully on that subject. I made no reply. He went on 
 to say that he supposed, that some thought he had made 
 quite a display of himself on that occasion, and he was deter- 
 mined it should not happen again, for he had prayed for 
 strength, and felt that he could control himself. He wanted 
 to know if I had heard the preachers or any one object to 
 his speaking the second time that day. I told him, all who 
 spoke to me of it seem.ed much pleased, and thought with 
 me, that it added much to the pleasure of the meeting. He 
 was still quite sore on the subject, and appeared to be 
 making a mighty effort to be able to command his feelings. 
 I told him he was too sensitive ; for I did not think it was 
 wrong in any one to thank the Lord aloud if he felt like it, 
 but rather thought it wrong for any one to attempt to re- 
 strain his feelings on such occasions ; as we were taught 
 in the Bible that in olden times Grod's people praised him 
 aloud; and that it was wrong to wish or attempt to please 
 the enemies of the church, as there were some who would 
 make sport of religion and all things connected therewith. 
 
 Time rolled on, and the Doctor recovered, as he thought, 
 still better command of himself I was present at several 
 meetings where he sailed along very quietly, there being no 
 noise, no ripple in the water. About this time, there was a 
 minister on our circuit whom we all loved very much — even 
 
48 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 ninncrs revered him. lie accomplished much good, both in 
 and out of the church. He was a whole-souled Christian ; 
 and both the Doctor and myself respected and loved him. 
 We expected to attend a quarterly meeting some distance 
 off, and to stay with a friend who lived near. 
 
 Once, when Dr. S. and myself were alone, he told me there 
 was Bomething about which he wanted to speak very plainly, 
 that he had been long wanting to do so, and he hoped I 
 would not feel hurt w^th him. He said, he had often thought 
 that I would do more good to the church, and enjoy myself 
 better, if I had my feelings under better control ; that at 
 times he thought my giving way to my feelings did harm, 
 as he had heard some members of the church object to it. 
 He said, that his motives in speaking to me were j^ure, and 
 begged me, as a friend and brother, to make a great effort to 
 control my feelings while at the approaching meeting. He 
 told me further, that he was afraid the sight of the minister 
 of whom I thought so much would excite me. I told him, 
 at one time I was of the same opinion, but I was changed ; 
 and, w^hen I felt like shouting, I did so, whether people liked 
 it or not. I warned him not to be too confident of his posi- 
 tion, as I had not forgotten our love-feast at the chapel. I 
 thought he winced a little, and said, if I would forgive him, 
 it should never happen again, as he was much stronger. 
 
 We went to the quarterly meeting. Dr. S. was in fine 
 spirits, and said he expected to enjoy himself in a quiet man- 
 ner — no one knowing it but the Lord and himself. On 
 Saturday we had a good sermon, but apparently but little 
 feeling in the "(iengregation. In company with several of 
 the preachers," we went to the house of our brother, to 
 w^hom allusion has been made, who was a good and true 
 man in every respect. We were kindly received by him 
 and his gentle wife. Dr. S. embraced the first opportunity 
 to tell me how much he had enjoyed the meeting, saying,"" 
 he supposed I had noticed how well he controlled himself, 
 and added, he wished I could do the same. Night hastened 
 on. Several preachers were present, and we retired to a 
 room for private prayer. We closed the door, and bowed 
 our knees in humble prayer. For some time, we remained 
 
BREAKS HIS RESOLUTION. 49 
 
 silent, with only a few brief prayers from some of the 
 preachers. But what noise was that, like the roaring of 
 the mighty whirlwind ? Dr. S. could hold in no more ; the 
 avalanche had fallen, and borne everything before it ! Such 
 a shout had been seldom heard in the chamber of private 
 prayer. I have heard nothing to surpass it for more than 
 thirty-five years. Dr. S. rose from his knees, and shook 
 hands, first with one and then another. He was completely 
 cut loose from all his moorings. All his boasted self-control 
 had been swept away like straws before the mighty winds 
 of heaven. His loud shouts rang through the evening air. 
 A tide of happy feeling passed through the room — the 
 preachers all rejoiced with the Doctor. 
 
 We had been there some time, when I went to the back 
 door, and opened it to let in some fresh air. Many negroes 
 had gathered outside, to know what was going on within. 
 Dr. S. came out, completely overpowered by his emotions, 
 which, like noble horses, long held in check by bit and 
 bridle, now having broken loo^e, rushed wi'ch headlong speed 
 wherever they pleased. He went among the servants, and 
 shook hands with them, and praised the Lord. 
 
 Finally, though a reaction took place with Dr. S., family 
 prayer was over, and we retired to the same room, but he 
 scarcely closed his eyes, being very low down in the valley 
 of despondency, and having hung his harp on the willows. 
 All his self-control was gone ; how could he^ ever raise his 
 head again ? He who had so earnestly, so affectionately, en- 
 treated me to restrain my emotions — to follow the example 
 he would set me — he who would sail along so gently, so 
 quietly, with no ripple on the waters — was the first heard 
 from — he praised God aloud. He passed a sleepless night. 
 Whenever I awoke, I found him tossing from side to side, 
 sighing mournfully. He was afterwards taken with a vio- 
 lent headache, and remained on the stool of repentance for a 
 long time, regretting much what had happened, and resolved 
 to go to work to recover his self-control ; but he said nothing 
 to me for many years about restraining my feelings, and fol- 
 lowing the example he would set me. 
 
LEAF THE EIGHTn. 
 
 OLD SHILOII ; OR, THE SANCTIFIED PREACHER. 
 
 Brother preacher, have you forgotten the little wayside 
 church in which you preached in olden time ? It stood not 
 far from the high-road, just after you crossed the branch or 
 creek ; or, perhaps, in the edge of an old field, with a few 
 short leafed pines near it ; or, perhaps near a little pond, full 
 of water in winter, and very dry in summer ; or it may have 
 stood on the top of a little hill, with large tall trees near it. 
 Such was the situation of old Shiloh, when I first began to 
 preach. And, brother preacher, do you not love to return, 
 in imagination, to those times w^hen to go to a two days' 
 meeting at one of those little wayside houses was the height 
 of your ambition ? And if the weather was good, and the 
 friends had laid b^- tbeir cro2:)s, and their corn and cotton 
 were not in the way, and there was no other meeting near 
 to draw off a part of the expected congregation, and if you 
 had something over a hundred rank and file of all classes 
 and colors, you would think you had a tremendous crowd, 
 and would have to preach out of doors on Sunday. 
 
 Such was the Shiloh of my hopes and fears in the days of 
 " auld lang syne." But the much-loved church is gone, and 
 I see it no more. 
 
 And then, you sometimes got to the church, after your long 
 ride, ahead of your congregation, and hitched your horse to a 
 swinging limb, and sat dow^n on one of the rough benches in 
 the little log-house, thinking about your sermon ; and after a 
 while the people would begin to come up ; perhaps first a 
 woman, with a child in her arms, and two or three little ones 
 walking close behind ; and then an old horse with both 
 shoulders rubbed raw, in a small cart full of folks ; and then 
 two young women, with a young man walking between 
 them, all with flowers in their hands ; and then, again, a 
 man on an old field pony, with a woman behind him, and a 
 crop-eared, stump-tailed dog trotting close behind them ; and 
 presently an old gig, and a heavy, old-fashioned carriage, 
 
DIVERS INTERRUPTIONS. 51 
 
 • 
 
 belonging respectively to the Squire and the Major on the 
 other side of the swamp ; and now, you are ready to say to 
 yourself, " I do believe there is one dog to every four per- 
 sons present." And after you got into the pulpit, and had 
 said your prayers, the class-leader would come and beg you, 
 in a whisper, to preach from such a text, as the Squire and 
 the Major are out. Such was old Shiloh to me in the olden 
 times. 
 
 And after preaching, when you said to the brother who 
 was with you, " I feel so tired ; I think w^e had best not have 
 preaching to-night," and Brother Y. would say, "I am afraid 
 there will be a great disappointment ; for old Sister IS", told 
 me, that her girls would be quite put out if there was no 
 preaching to-night ; for the^" Iv^^d to stay at home to-day, to 
 fix up, and have some dun^'plings and tarts for the big dinner 
 to-morrow." So you hadao publish night meeting; and then 
 Brother Y. fired ofi' his Mg gun ; and the Squire's daughter — 
 Miss Sallie, and the Major's sister — Miss Mary Louisa, first 
 came up and knelt at the little table — for there %^as no altar. 
 And now, Mrs. P. came up, with a child in her rms, and a 
 little boy holding to her skirts ; and then Charlie E., and 
 Billy H., and several other young men knelt at their seats ; 
 and the Major clapped his hands, and the old Squire said 
 '* glory ! " and we had a great meeting that night. 
 
 Such was Shiloh of the olden time. 
 
 And then, such a fine turn-out we had on Sunday. Some 
 of the quality, from near the Court House, came in, when 
 the sermon was half over. And when the second sermon 
 was almost ended, and Sister I*^. had shouted out aloud, and 
 the Squire had twice said "glory !" and we were counting on 
 a tremendous time, and we expected to have to protract the 
 meeting — Mrs. G.'s little boy began to cry very loud, because 
 he could not get another biscuit, and two horses which had 
 been tied to the same tree began to fight, and the Squire's 
 old dog Hector jumped on Mr. E.'s crop-eared, stump-tailed 
 dog Pompey, and they had a big fight, and some of the boys 
 ran out to stop the fuss — and the meeting was spoiled. And 
 when you told Brother Y. "good bye," he said "O, Brother 
 B,, what a pity those dogs began to fight ; if it had not been 
 
52 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 for that, there is no tellinfr what a ^rloriouK time wo "svould 
 have had !" 
 
 Such a place vTas old Shiloh to me in the davn gone by. 
 
 But, my good brother preacher, after a while you began 
 to spread out from home more than you used to do, and 
 sometimes you got to a camp meeting on the other side of 
 the river; and the preacher on another circuit sometimes 
 told you he wanted you to helj) him at a big meeting at the 
 Court House ; and the presiding elder told you, that night 
 he 'stayed with you, that you must "branch out more," for 
 3^ou would do more good by it. So you cannot go to old 
 Shiloh now as often as formerl}^. And the last time you 
 were there, you had been away for a long while ; but some- 
 body told you, that some onerSijid, that the Major said, that 
 the Squire said, that day at tlie lo^;-rolling at his house, that 
 ''he was afraid the parson would '^oon be too large for h in 
 pants;" so you saVl to yourself, "th.s will never do; I must 
 go there once more, even if the old house looks more like 
 falling than when I was there last ; and I will get some of 
 the preachers to help me, and we will have" a big meeting; 
 and I will stay one night at the Major's, and one night at 
 the Squire's, and take dinner at Sister [N'.'s ; and will let 
 the friends see, that the parson is not yet too large for his 
 pants ! " 
 
 So the long and short of it, my friends, is, I am on my 
 last visit to old Shiloh — for not long after it was replaced by 
 a new house. 
 
 The report of the expected meeting had gone far and near, 
 on both sides of the big swamp ; for it had been given out 
 months beforehand, that Brothers D., Y., B., and others were 
 expected, and the meeting was expected to last over two 
 Sundays ; and the candidates for the next sheriff and tax- 
 collector were expected to be there, so the meeting would 
 not be broken up, even if old Hector did jump on and fight 
 Mr. E.'s crop-eared, stump-tailed dog, Pompey. 
 
 And now, the preparations were all over, and the young 
 ladies had been to the Court House, and got lots of fine 
 things. But times have changed a little since our first visit. 
 Some fine crops have been made down there since that time ; 
 
53 
 
 and the big swamp has been opened for rafting ; and some of 
 the quality people have moved into the neighbourhood. But 
 the old church "has not changed — there it stands, looking 
 older, and more ready to fall, than when we were there last. 
 The floor has sunk down near the pulpit. But the old house 
 has been scrubbed over, and the yard has been swept and 
 cleaned. Come, friends, be a little careful as you walk in. 
 The old house looks as if it cannot stand much longer. The 
 company appeared to be better fixed up, than when I first 
 went there ; and there is not as much going in and out 
 during preaching as usual ; neither were there as inany dogs 
 there as in days gone by. I did not see old Hector or Pom- 
 pey ; I suspect they had both crossed the flood. 
 
 -As well as I can now remember, we had a good meeting 
 on Saturday; but Sunday was to be the great day of the 
 meeting. Every body will be out — big fish, little fish, and 
 all. Arrangements were made accordingly — two sermons 
 were expected — prayer-meeting before preaching — friends 
 requested to come early. The blessed Sabbath — the holy 
 day, was now come. Alas, for the expectation of poor mor- 
 tals ! it looked much like rain. AYe nevertheless start far 
 the church, and have a fine turn-out. 
 
 Prayer-meeting was over, and we were in a crowded house, 
 which looked as if it could not stand much longer. Old 
 Shiloh had not had such a fine turn-out of the quality folks 
 for many a day. A good local minister, from another circuit, 
 was to preach the first sermon. He had been on the walls of 
 Zion for some time, and believed in the doctrines of our 
 church fully. He was a man with a sharp, strong, piercing 
 voice. We now have old-time singing — clear, loud, and ring- 
 ing. Prayer was over. The parson gave out his text,^and 
 told us how he would treat it, with the Lord's blessing. "^ He 
 divided it into three parts — first, second, and thirdly. The 
 congregation looked as if they expected him to spread him- 
 self on thirdly. A gentle rain was falling. I was seated in 
 the pulpit — having to hold forth next. As the preacher went 
 on, he warmed up from time to time ; but was reserving his 
 main strength for thirdly. On went the parson with his ser- 
 mon ; the rain falls — a little faster, a little louder. The 
 
54 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 preacher, in his second division, raises his voice louder, and 
 it is "more piercini^ — the people appeared serious and atten- 
 tive. On account of the depression in the floor, the pulpit 
 leaned over a little. At times, the preacher had to hold on 
 to the book-board to keep himself erect, and I had to lean 
 back the other way to keep myself uj)ri<rht. The parson 
 was now entering with his full strength on the last division ; 
 and the people looked as if they expected him to spread 
 himself on thirdly. Ilis glance seemed to say, "you need not 
 be afraid; there will be no mistake, if the Lord will help 
 me." The rain was falling now faster and louder ; the old 
 house seemed to lean more towards the middle than when 
 we first came in. The preacher was spreading himself on 
 thirdly. The people looked as if they thought so too. His 
 voice was louder, and more piercing than ever. It rang 
 through the church and the woods around. He was swing- 
 ing clear now under very high pressure ; his broad banner 
 was unfurled and waving. 
 
 But now, that full justice might be done to thirdly, the 
 preacher must press home on the waiting congregation, the 
 doctrine of perfect love. He pauses, only for a moment, to 
 gather all his powers for the final effort. While he pauses, 
 if you listen, you can still hear the rain falling from the old 
 house. The preacher was now making his final eifort; and 
 full justice will be done to thirdly. He proves his position — 
 he tells us we must reach that point of perfect love by ex- 
 perience ; he tells us of many of the old-time saints who 
 lived in the enjoyment of this blessing ; now he comes down 
 to modern times, and makes honorable mention of many of 
 the primitive Methodists who possessed it, and went home 
 to glory. The old house seemed to lean a little more. Be- 
 fore taking his seat, the preacher begs his friends to excuse 
 his speaking of himself; he does not wish to press so 
 strongly this great truth upon them, without saying he 
 was in the enjoyment of this great blessing himself. He 
 was glad to think, he possessed himself what he preached 
 to others, and had been happy in its enjoyment for some 
 time, and was living in full stretch for the better world ; the 
 roots of bitterness were all removed, and he was free to say 
 
66 
 
 he was living each revolving day as if it was his last ; he 
 had no will of his own — had not had for some time — it was 
 all svrallowed up in his heavenly Father's. He was only 
 waiting his Master's time ; he was ready at any moment, 
 by night or by day — in July's heat, in December's cold, if 
 called he was ready — at home or abroad — on horseback or 
 on foot — on the land or at sea — if called then and there, he 
 would as lief go from that old pulpit, and through that old 
 roof, to glory, as from anywhere else. 
 
 The preacher sat down, having done full justice to thirdly, 
 calm as a summer's evening when no wind bloweth. I got 
 up, having hardly time to plant myself firmly before the book- 
 board, when an awful crash was heard — apparently, the old 
 house will be down in thirty seconds at most. A desperate 
 rush was made for the open door, and the preacher was the 
 second man that jumped out. Some said he was first, but 
 the general impression was, that the parson came out second 
 best — ^proving to all, both saint and sinner, that he still had 
 a very strong will of his oitm. And while the parson rushed 
 out, perhaps a holy angel almost sighed, and a fallen spirit 
 shouted. But the old house did not completely fall down, 
 and the preacher, who had no will of his own, and the con- 
 gregation, who were more scared than hurt, came back, and 
 I preached my last sermon in Shiloh. For the much loved 
 old church is gone now, my friends, and I see it no more. 
 
LEAF THE NINTH. 
 
 a memento op my derarted hiiend, the rev. james c. 
 postell; or a night at cattle-creek camp ground 
 IN THE olden times. 
 
 Departed brother, safe home in glory, I often think and 
 speak of you, having a strong desire to see you once more, 
 and hear you preach and sing again, 
 
 '* Trouble's over, trouble's over; 
 A few more rounds of circuits here, 
 Then all our troubles will be over." 
 
 Who ever heard that gifted brother once, without wishing 
 to hear him a second time? I had heard so much of him, 
 that my curiosity was much excited, and I was anxious to 
 see and hear him. I saw him, I think, for the first time, at 
 old Providence, near Midway, in Barnwell District, and was 
 much pleased with, and interested in, him, being at once con- 
 vinced that as a preacher for protracted and camp meetings, 
 he had few equals. He invited me to come to Cattle creek 
 camp meeting, soon to take place, and I promised to do so. 
 
 The day came, and I went. The meeting had been going 
 on for some time, and much interest was manifested. Eeader, 
 were you ever at Cattle-creek years ago, when travdling 
 was not so easy as now — when you had to ride some dis- 
 tance, and cross more than one deep creek ; and were you 
 not glad when you reached the place ? After you had been 
 there only a little while, and had received more invitations 
 than you could meet, did you not feel like saying, "although 
 the friends here have little tents, they have very large 
 hearts." Come, tell the truth now ; you were not long on 
 the ground, were you, before the Bartons, the Fredericks, 
 the Bowmans, the Snells, the Izlars, the Berrys, and others, 
 were, sometimes more than one of them at once, requesting 
 you to go with them ? There is such a thing as a man get- 
 ting too many invitations at camp meetings ; at least, it has 
 been so with me, as I am rather forgetful. It happened that 
 
57 
 
 the Strange Parson once, at Broxton's bridge camp meeting, 
 received so many invitations (as was afterwards proved), 
 that he promised four different persons to dine with them, 
 and when the time arrived, a fifth man came, and the parson 
 went with him, having forgotten the others. So I felt, 
 while at Cattle creek, more than once like saying, ''al- 
 though the tents are small, these people have very large 
 hearts." 
 
 Soon after I reached the ground, I was met by Brother 
 Posteil. who crave me a warm shake of the hand — which I 
 can even now remember, though near thirty years ago — 
 saying, " AYell, Brother B., I am glad to see you; I think we 
 are going to have a fine meeting to-night, for I have been 
 praying for it, and I have faith to believe it." My hopes 
 concerning the meeting, I confess, were not strong. The 
 night was gloomy, and we had to go through the rain to the 
 stand, and I suppose the unpleasant weather had affected 
 my spirits. The old church was the only place in which the 
 crowd could be accommodated, and even there I was afraid 
 they would not be comfortable, and that we would not have 
 a fine meeting ; but he said, " Oh, yes, you will see it ; for I 
 have been praying for it, and expect it ; as, you know, ' ac- 
 cording to thy faith so be it.' " 
 
 "Brother B.," said he, '-'I have something to tell you; but 
 you must not say anything about it for a while. If I have 
 a chance, and I think I will, as I expect to exhort to-night, 
 I wish to make use of something which happened on my 
 way here." He then told me what it was, and said he 
 thought he could make good use of it. Nothing more was 
 said, and we parted. 
 
 The hour for preaching had come, and the horn had been 
 blown.' There was to be service in several tents, but I went 
 with the crowd to the old church. There was a perfect jam, 
 every place being filled with persons either standing or sit- 
 ting. Such glorious old-time singing we had — even now in 
 imagination I hear it. Every now and then I found myself 
 thinking of what Brother P. said about our having a good 
 meeting. In all my life, I never looked over a congrega- 
 tion as often as I did that night, trying to discover the 
 4 
 
58 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 wonderful things to bo done ; but I saw nothing during 
 the sermon. Brother Forster preached well. When he con- 
 cluded, I looked over the crowd, but saw no signs of what I 
 had been led to expect. During the sermon, I had more 
 than once discovered Brother P. regarding me with a look, 
 which seemed to say, " never mind, we are going to have a 
 fine meeting ; for I have been praying for it, and have faith 
 to believe it." 
 
 Brother P. now got up. He was a popular preacher, and 
 drew crowds after him ; and I suspect that the house was so 
 full because it had got out that he was to exhort that night. 
 The large and unpleasantly-situated congregation became 
 very still when he rose. He observed, that he hoped to 
 have the prayers and attention of all present, and exhorted 
 the brethren to exercise faith, and to expect a large out- 
 pouring of the Spirit — that he looked for and expected it. 
 He said, he was afraid there were several present who did 
 not expect much, but that he hoped to see many mourners 
 and several conversions. I turned, and looked again, but 
 saw no manifest signs of the great out-pouring which was 
 expected. He hoped the mourners would not wait for sing- 
 ing to commence, as he wanted to see them coming up 
 promptly. During his exhortation (which ought never to 
 be forgotten) he several times requested us to pray, and not 
 to fear, and said that we would have a glorious meeting. I 
 looked round frequently, but saw no marked signs. He 
 more than once gazed at me with his piercing black eyes, 
 which seemed to say, " do not fear, Brother B., we will have 
 a great revival." 
 
 He compared himself to an archer, with his quiver full of 
 arrows, and said he was going to shoot them at the sinner, 
 the backslider, and all cold-hearted Christians, and he hoped 
 every one would feel a smart — that he had more than a 
 score of them, and as he shot them off, he hoped the church 
 would pray as the}^ heard them whizzing through the crowd. 
 In his very impressive manner he proceeded fixing the ar- 
 rows. His soul-stirring words followed one another like a 
 mighty torrent rushing down the mountain side. I soon 
 forgot to turn again, for the last time I looked I saw the 
 
THE ARROW HITS THE MARK. 59 
 
 marked signs, not to be mistaken. If the rain continued to 
 fall, that torrent would sweep everything before it — trees, 
 houses, rocks, and all. He would every now and then, after 
 some strong expression, tell us another arrow was shot off, 
 and beg us to pray as we heard it flying from the string. 
 
 On, and still on, the archer of the cross went — getting at 
 length to his last shaft. He then paused, as if to recover full 
 strength for his last effort. Oh, my soul ! what a pause was 
 that I It seemed as if immortal souls were trembling in the 
 balance, while angels and devils held their breath as they 
 looked and listened. Before shooting the last arrow, he said 
 he would put a new string on his bow, and he begged us, if 
 ever in our lives we had prayed with faith, to do so now — 
 and I doubt if a more general or fervent prayer was ever 
 offered up in old Cattle creek church. He then told us, that 
 an interesting young lady, whose parents loved the Lord, 
 and were on their way to heaven, who came there with him, 
 was very gay and fond of fashion, and he was afraid she 
 would never meet her parents in glory. He said, he had 
 begged her to try to get religion, and he would pray for her 
 as long as he lived. 
 
 The last arrow went sounding from the string. As I 
 turned round to look, I almost sprang to my feet ; for I saw 
 a young lady fall from her seat as if she had been shot 
 through the heart ; and now, from the outside of the crowd, 
 came a young man, forcing his way, stepping from bench to 
 bench, crying for mercy. And then a crowd of mourners 
 rushed up as if for their lives; and then Brother Postell 
 came down from the pulpit, singing — 
 
 *' Trouble's over, trouble's over; 
 A few more rounds of circuits here, 
 Then all our troubles will be over." 
 
 We had, indeed, a glorious old-time meeting. I remained 
 until eleven o'clock, and then, not being able to reach the 
 door, got out through a window. I hope to remember that 
 night, in heaven, where all our troubles will be over for ever. 
 
LEAF THE TENTH. 
 
 MY FIRST VISIT TO OLD CANE CREEK CAMP-GROUND, UNION 
 
 DISTRICT WHY I WENT THERE; OR, THE BEGINNING OF 
 
 MY ROVING LIFE. 
 
 After joiniiip^ the church, luid beini^ chif^s-leadcr and cx- 
 hortor for some time, I began to preaeli ; but for years did 
 not go much beyond my own circuit. Brother James C. 
 Postell, being sent to the Union circuit, invited me to come 
 and spend some time with him, which I was glad to do — 
 both to })e with him, and to re-visit the okl phice in that dis- 
 trict where I went to school when only eight years old. 
 AVheu circumstances allowed, I went ; and this, then, was the 
 beginning of my roving life, though I confess that preaching 
 the gospel was only a secondary consideration. 
 
 After travelling a long distaiice, tired and worn out, I ar- 
 rived one day about noon, at the house of that much-res- 
 pected and whole-souled preacher, Brother John Jennings. 
 I was told that Brothers Postell and Picket, and a fe^v 
 othei's, w^ere going to hold a camp-meeting at Cane creek, 
 and Avanted me to attend. I told them what brought me up 
 there ; but, that after I had re-visited old scenes, I would be 
 glad to attend. I had found out that the most of Brother 
 Jennings's sons were not members of the church. After din- 
 ner, I. went up stairs to rest ; but the LoM was beginning to 
 lay the burden of immortal souls more heavily upon me than 
 ever before, and I could not rest ; for the desire to see the 
 preacher's sons converted took full possession of my heart, 
 and for a time almost everything else was forgotten. Again 
 and again, during the evening, I was on my knees, engaged 
 in ardent Y)rayer for those young men, begging the Lord to 
 convict and convert them. I humbly besought him that they 
 might be among the first at the altar, and among the first to 
 embrace religion at the camp-meeting. 
 
 The next day I went on to Unionville, and was warmly 
 welcomed by Brother Postell, and became acquainted with 
 Dr. "Dogan and others, good men and true. And now, reader. 
 
i 
 
 REVISIT MOUNT PROSPECT. 61 
 
 3'ou find me at the place which I so long wanted to see — the 
 old grounds of Mount Prospect stood before me. I roamed 
 all about, thinking of Mr. Camp])ell the old teacher, and Mr. 
 Wright with whom I boarded ; and I went to the spring at 
 the foot of a steep hill, and drank from it. I then knelt, and 
 thanked the Lord for his protection to that hour ; and then 
 my thoughts went back to the death of my dear mother. I 
 saw the whole scene before me — my gentle, heavenly -minded 
 mother lying in her coffin ; and I again listened to the read- 
 ing of the funeral service, and remembered how filled with 
 grief was the little boy's heart, yet no tears fell from his 
 eyes ; and how an old gentleman came up and put his hand 
 oil my head, and said, he suspected the little boy who could 
 not weep felt as sorry as any present. And then I recalled 
 the time soon after, when my brother John and myself were 
 sent from old Pine Forest to Mount Prospect to school. I 
 then went to the old house, and went in and around it, and 
 then my melancholy feelings soon departed; for I then 
 thought of the wild sports and frolics of the boys, and it 
 seemed as if it were only a few days since we were there. I 
 must leave old Mount Prospect now, and start for Cane 
 creek. 
 
 I hastened on my way to spend the night at Brother 
 Glenn's. It was near sunset, and I was approaching one of 
 the happiest evenings of my life, for I was soon going to see 
 one of the noblemen of heaven — the much-loved and highly- 
 respected Dr. G. We met then for the first time, and have 
 over since been dear friends, and I hope we shall meet in 
 heaven. I asked the stranger to direct me to the Pev. Mr. 
 Glenn's. He told me, it was too far to be reached that night, 
 and asked me to turn back a short distance, and spend the 
 night with him. I declined at first, but he still insisted, and 
 I yielded, for it was near night. We heard a noise in the 
 distance, and rode on nearer to it ; it proved to be water 
 I'unniisg ovpf- the J'ocks, I uebed the n:rn>e of the ris'^er, and 
 wits rold. ir ^w^b the Eno/ee, vvhich I had greacJv' wauced ru 
 see ; and I enjoyed the sight, for I had now seen all that i 
 wished of the places of my boyhood. We passed over the Eno- 
 ree, and Brother G. took me to the house of a Brother Clark 
 
62 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 and his wife, where I met an interentinf^ youiipj man — a Mr. 
 SimR. Thus in one evening, I had found four friends, who, since 
 that time, have possessed a life-time hokl on my affections ; 
 and I have always regarded that night, and the scenes there- 
 with connected, as one of the green places in my roving life. 
 
 The morning came, and I was soon to leave for the meet- 
 ing. Brother C. had a man attending to business, a Mr. B., 
 who seemed inclined to have some sport w4th the preacher 
 before he left. He took me over the place, and every now 
 and then told me he thought it was unhealthy on the Walter- 
 boro circuit, and was surprised to see me looking so well, as 
 I came from that country of grave-yards. lie continued in 
 that strain for some time, but it was not very entertaining to 
 me. After a while, he insisted on weighing me, to ascertain 
 how heavy I was. My horse had been ready for some time, 
 so I told the family farewell, and turned to Mr. B., and spoke 
 to him on the subject of religion. 
 
 " O ! " said he, " I care nothing about it now ; I have time 
 enough to think of such things. If I thought I was going 
 to die soon, I would like right well to have religion ; but as 
 I expect to live a long time, I will put it off." 
 
 I begged him to attend our meeting.* He said, he had no 
 time. I entreated him to come; telling him he might be 
 benefitted. He said, he did not care about it then ; but 
 would put it off until just before his death, which would be 
 ample time. At last, my faith in reference to Mr. B. became 
 stronger, and I told him, if he would come to the meeting, I 
 believed he would join the church. But he told me, he did 
 not wish to attend, or to join the church. My faith became 
 still stronger, and I told him I believed he was afraid to 
 come, and dared him to do so — that I w^as going to pray for 
 him, and I thought he Avould join the church; and thus we 
 parted, and very soon I arrived at old Cane creek. 
 
 Let me say here, that it has been one of the greatest plea- 
 sures of my life to attend camp-meetings. Among them all, 
 Binnakers and Cane creek camp-meetings are the dearest to 
 me. At the former, I embraced religion, and joined the 
 church in which I hope to live and die ; and at the latter, I 
 became more full}- convinced than ever that I was called to 
 
THE OLD QUAKER CHURCH. 63 
 
 preach, and that so far my labors had been blessed. I have 
 always regarded my first meeting at Cane creek as the best 
 I ever attended in my life. When I arrived there, the tents 
 had been pitched, and the stand prepared, and everything 
 was ready. There was an old church there in which the 
 Quakers worshipped many years ago, but which was now 
 used by others. I found several preachers on the ground, 
 both travelling and local, but high above us all stood Bro- 
 thers Postell and Picket. The meeting began with the 
 marked presence of the Lord, deepening and widening from 
 hour to hour. I forget who preached the first nigjit in the 
 Quaker church ; but there was much feeling manifested. I 
 had been praying every day for Brother Jennings's sons, and 
 they were among the very first mourners to come to the 
 altar. They were also among the first who were converted 
 and joined the church. The powerful work continued for 
 many days — at the stand, in the tents, in the woods, and 
 everywhere. Perhaps such a time had never been known in 
 those parts before. Day after day more interest seemed to 
 be manifested. By common consent. Brother Postell was 
 made the presiding elder of the meeting, he having had 
 much experience in such meetings. 
 
 A gentleman of wealth, a Mr. Kelly, not a member of the 
 church, came on the ground. One day, Brother P. changed 
 his programme, and by this new disposition of his forces, he 
 hoped, by God's help, to gain a complete victory over the 
 enemy, who seemed to be yet strongly entrenched on some 
 portions of the field. He appointed a love-feast in the church, 
 and preaching at the stand, at the same time, and said, that 
 he wished both services to close at the same moment. O, 
 that love-feast ! such a time of power and glory. All present 
 seemed to enjoy it. It finally closed, and, the preaching 
 having ended about the same time and singing just begun, 
 we went there from love-feast, and the two bands of happy, 
 rejoicing worshippers met together. Everything yielded to 
 them, and a tremendous victory was gained — many were 
 converted, many joined the church. 
 
 • On another day, we had preaching at the stand, and 
 prayer-meeting in the woods, at the same time. Both were 
 
64 STllAY LEAVES. 
 
 well iittuiulc'd, and both closed at the same moment. The 
 party from the woods — amoni^ thom many luippy converts — 
 now came up to the stand, sini^iiiir and jn-aisinir the Lord ; 
 and a second time the exultini^ l)andrt met to^-ether, and 
 ma(h^ a general charii;e — forcini^ the enemy to aliandon every 
 position, and leave the field. 1 have never witnessed such 
 scenes in all my roving lite. The gentleman mentioned 
 above, was the father of the Rev. J, W. Kell}', both of whom 
 I have always ranked among my best friends. Every day 1 
 prayed for Mr. K., and the Mr. B. of wliom I have spoken. 
 He had not yet arrived, but I still expected him. The meet- 
 ing continued to go on with tremendous power — the young 
 converts seeming to be deeply interested on the Lord's behalf 
 hunting up theip worldly friends^ and entreating them to 
 come to Jesus. The preachers were fully engaged, Avith 
 all theii* might, helping the Lord against the mighty. ]^ro- 
 ther Jennings and the two Brothers Glenn, did much good. 
 They were seen everywhere, pressing the battle to the gate, 
 driving all opposition before them — while hell raged in vain, 
 and heaven I'ejoiced. Quite a large number had been con- 
 verted, and up to this time about one hundred and fifty had 
 joined the church. Some of the most promising young men 
 of the country had come out on the Lord's side, and were 
 soon to commence preaching the gospel. Men, whose names 
 will never die, had thrown down the arms of their rebellion, 
 and had started for the better world. 
 
 The morning came for me to leave, or break an engage- 
 ment to go to another meeting, and as the time drew near, I 
 became much cast down, and I was sorr}^ that X had to go. 
 I was entreated to remain; and Brother P. said, if I would 
 go, that I must preach the 11 o'clock sermon, open the 
 doors, call up mourners, and take my fareAvell. As I was 
 walking over the ground, I was met by Mr. B., who had just 
 come. He said, with a smile, that having heard so much 
 ahnrit the meeting, curiosity bad brought him ovpr. .1 told 
 liiri). 1 Uvd been ex-peeiing bim — that \ie rnuHi in»i foig*^'! 
 V. hat i told him. 1 then left him, and went to tLo vvuods Vj 
 pray before preaching my last sermon. The congregation 
 assembled, and I preached from, " He that goeth forth and 
 
THE INVISIBLE HAND. 65 
 
 weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again 
 with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." After the ser- 
 mon was over, I opened the door of the church, and twenty- 
 seven persons joined, among them Mr. B., who had made so 
 much sport of me, and who did not want religion until near 
 his death. My feelings at seeing him weeping can never be 
 described. lie soon afterwards was converted; and many 
 years after, when he was a pious class-leader, we met at the 
 same place. 
 
 Many mourners came up, and my work for the time was 
 nearly done. Mr. Iv. and his son still kejDt away, and I 
 thought I must make another eifort ; so going up to him as 
 near as I could, I said to him, ^' I may never see you again 
 until we meet at the judgment seat; I would be glad to pray 
 for you." He knelt down, and I prayed for him. When we 
 arose^ I felt more resigned. He thanked me, but said, he 
 thought we would meet again iu this life ; but if not, he 
 would try to meet me in heaven. He then said, he wished 
 to join the church. Years after. Brother J. W. Kelly told 
 me, that he and some other young men used to be afraid of 
 me when they saw me coming out in the congregation, and 
 that on that day he first thought he would leave, but finally 
 Avent where several young men were standing ; that he after- 
 wards saw me praying for his father ; he then could remem- 
 l)er no more, but was told that he fell between the benches, 
 and when he came to himself he found himself at the altar, 
 Avith his head in his mother's lap, and asked for me, but was 
 told I had been gone for hours. 
 
 It required a mighty effort on my part to leave, but I 
 thought I ought to keep my word. I have always regretted 
 having left at that time, and it seemed as if I could almost 
 feel some invisible hand holding me back. I left the stand : 
 on my way a gentleman, whom I did not know, came up to 
 me and asked if my name was not Lucius Bellinger, and if 
 T. "w^hen a little boy. wont to school, with my brother .Tohn. 
 ui M.ouiii Prosp*^<-t ? 1 told \\\n\ rh-ai I w-a^ ilip 8y,iri>^. fU 
 said he wa.s chere &i die time; thiiL he was a member of the 
 Baptist church, and that he had never enjoyed himself so 
 much before. With tears in his eves, and with his arms 
 
C)C) STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 about my neck, he bei^ged me, for the sake of the days of 
 our boyhood, to remain. He told me, my labors had been 
 Messed there, but that there was still more work for me to 
 do. But I thought it would never do not to keep my pro- 
 mise. My heart was greatly moved when I parted from my 
 old class-mate. 
 
 It appeared now as if tlic unseen liand was pulling me 
 back ; but I still moved on, and met a young gentleman, 
 with a lady on each arm — all strangers to me. He told 
 me who he was, and that he and his two sisters were 
 among the mourners that came to the altar, and that 
 they had never been there before. He said, they had not 
 been converted; but thought if I would preach one more 
 sermon, they would find the pearl of great price. They 
 all wept, and begged me to remain. I told them I was 
 sorry I had to go ; that, so to speak, I was leaving my 
 heart behind. They then asked me to pray for them right 
 there, and we knelt in the sand, on the way to the tents. 
 The Lord was present — the brother and one sister were 
 converted, and rejoiced in their Saviour. The other sister, 
 still more distressed than ever, entreated me to stay. 1 
 again felt the touch of the invisible hand, but tore myself 
 away and left the ground, with such feelings as I hope never 
 again to experience. I Avent on a little way. O, how I 
 longed to stay ! I turned round and looked back, and could 
 still see the camp ground. I again started on my way, and 
 went some distance. The unseen hand was too much for 
 me — I turned round once more, and rode back, so near that 
 I could see the congregation still at the stand, and could 
 hear the sweet songs of Zion ; but I thought it would never 
 do to break my word, so I turned round, and left old Cane 
 creek behind me. It was the best meeting I ever attended 
 in my life. It lasted several days longer. More than three 
 hundred persons joined the church, and nearly all were con- 
 verted. Farewell to old Cane creek camp-ground, with its 
 immortal memories. 
 
LEAF THE ELEVENTH. 
 
 MY FIRST VISIT TO ROCK SPRINGS CAMP-GROUND, NORTH CARO- 
 LINA ; AND A WAYSIDE MEETING. 
 
 My friends, have yoii never been to the far-famed Eock 
 Springs camp-ground? I will tell you then, of my first visit 
 there, many years ago. I had my curiosity much excited by 
 a Brother Carr, who was then on our circuit. He told me, 
 if I wished to see the largest place of the kind in our church, 
 to go there. I started on my long journey all alone. Bro- 
 ther Carr»had told me, the meeting would commence on 
 Thursday preceeding the first Sunday in August. I got to 
 Yorkvilie in due time, and was much surprised when told I 
 Avas a week too soon. I was an entire stranger, and knew 
 not what to do at first ; but I concluded that Brother C. 
 must be right, and those who said otherwise mistaken. Some 
 one told me, there was a class-leader living some fifteen 
 miles a-head, who always kept the time, and he directed 
 me to him. So I started, more than once wishing myself at 
 home. I was then young in the cause ; I had not yet learned 
 to trust in the Lord as much as in my after life. I at last 
 got in sight of the house, which stood on a high hill. As I 
 was driving slowly up, I saw a buggy coming down the hill, 
 in which there were a lady and gentleman. I was suddenly 
 impressed that they could tell me something about the meet- 
 ing, so I stopped until they came up. I asked, and was told 
 it was a week oft'. I still thought Brother C. must be right, 
 and these persons wrong. I told them I was on my way 
 there, and would go on to the house, and find out all about 
 it. The man said, he was on his way home from one camp- 
 meeting, and expected to attend that one, and he knew he 
 was right. As I was moving off, I saw the lady whisper to 
 the gentleman, who asked me to stop, and then observed, 
 "My wife says she knows you are a Methodist minister; and 
 that I would regret it, if I did not stop you." He told me, 
 he was the preacher on that circuit, and had been ordered'to 
 
68 STIJAV LKAVKS. 
 
 Uoc'k Springs next week; and he inqiiircMl my iiaino. I (old 
 liim who I was. 
 
 "Oh!" said he, •• Brother 1^.. I liave heard of you, and 3-011 
 are the very man 1 wished to see. ]\fy name is MeKih])cn ;" 
 and he told me lie had a three days' meetini^ some tliirty 
 miles below, and that he wished I would turn haek, and ^o 
 there with him. and afterwards we could fi;o to Itoek Springs. 
 I did not like the idea of turning back so far, but at last con- 
 cluded to do so. And that was the place and manner in 
 which I tirst met with Brother ]\rcK. — a whole-souled man 
 and true, if there are any such in this unfriendly world. 
 
 "But," says some one, ^'Avhat of the wayside meeting?" 
 That was the one to which he turned me back. AVe retraced 
 our steps to an old school-house, in which it waf^held. We 
 stopped at the house of a sister Postell, the wife of a brother 
 of tlie Rev. James C. Postell. She was a widow, and I found 
 her to be a kind and good lady. That Avas my oidy visit to 
 her house — it was a time of much pleasure, of which I often 
 think, and hope never to forget. There were not many out 
 the first day ; but the number continued to increase during 
 the continuance of the meeting. It Avas then I first heard 
 Brother McK. He was plain, practical, strong, always to 
 the point. He always folknved his text; and, in my (^pinion, 
 was neither too short nor too long. On Sunday, as there 
 were a great many out. Ave had to preach out of doors. The 
 presence of the Lord was evidently felt; and Brother Mclv. 
 gaA'c us a strong sermon. The feeling Avas such that he 
 thought the meeting should be continued, though he had 
 to leuA^e for another appointment. He requested me, with 
 some others, to remain until it Avas time to leaA^e for Kock 
 Springs, The interest appeared to increase ; the Holy vSpirit 
 Avas poAverfuUy present. Sinners Avere deeply convicted, and 
 some mourners happily converted, and I think several joined 
 rhe r-hurob. Preaching was again given out for the next 
 
 dyv. and 1 st-i\-.-d :il ■.jsi.c !^.-<^d^s — :-! id;/ 'hi l<>ri-- r<» l>f- f- 
 
 iiiembej-eu. 
 
 1 might as well say here, that some of my friends hav« 
 long known, that I often haA' e had very remarkable dreams, 
 Avhich came to pass — that I sometimes preach, and exhort, 
 
A REMxVKKABLE DREAM. 69 
 
 and become very happy while asleep — sometimes disturbing 
 the family, where I happen to be, very much. Sometimes I 
 can recall every incident of my dream ; and at other times, 
 I know nothing of w^hat has happened. I was told, the next 
 morning, that I had disturbed the whole house, by making 
 quite a noise, clapping my hands, shouting, etc., and I was 
 asked what was the matter. 
 
 I pledge my honor for what I am going to relate. I told 
 them, that I thought we would enjoy our best season that 
 day ; for I dreamed I was at the meeting, and we had a most 
 glorious time ; and that a young man, who had black eyes 
 and hail* — the latter being worn rather long, and Avho was of 
 a dark complexion, came up to be prayed for, and remained 
 there until happily converted, when he praised God aloud ; 
 and then turning to me, said, " Sir, I wish to join the church ;" 
 adding, '• I would rather give my hand to you than any man 
 I have ever seen ; you need not be afraid of me ; for. I)y the 
 help of God, I will fight the whole warfare through." At 
 that time I praised God aloud — which was the noise they 
 heard. I told them my faith led me to expect it would all 
 come to pass. Had some of m}' friends, who have long 
 known me, been there, perhaps they would not have been as 
 much surprised as that family seemed to be ; though they 
 only said, there was such a young man there, who was much 
 I'espected. 
 
 The time for the meeting drew nigh — my hope in the Lord 
 remaining firm and steadfast, never for a moment doubting 
 the result ; for I believed that our Lord was just as willing 
 to answer prayer in these days as when those words were 
 spoken, ''ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find." 
 
 Service began, and the text was taken from II Kings vii. 
 3. 4. The strength of Israel was gloriously present on that 
 momentous occasion. iSTear the door stood the young man 
 whom I had seen the night before in my sleep — a fine look- 
 ing youth, black eyes, and hair that hung very low, and of a 
 dark complexion. If I had given way to my feelings every 
 time I looked at him, I would have said, " I saw }^ou last 
 night ; and I am counting on you to-day ;" and it was with 
 an etfort I restrained mj-self. At the close of the sermon, I 
 
70 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 culled up mourncrc^. At once Bovcral cainc up, among them 
 the young man, who seemed much ali'ecte^ and before he 
 reached the place of prayer there seemed to be a great im- 
 pression in the assembly. He fell on his knees, and remained 
 there for a long time. We sang and prayed with him, and 
 the feeling seemed to increase among the congregation. I 
 have seen but few scenes in my life of more than thirty 
 years as a preacher, that can be compared to that of which 
 1 am now writing. I think heaven was as near me then, 
 and hell as far off, as at any time during my life. At last, 
 the dark-eyed youth sprang quickly to his feet, with a tear 
 and a smile on his countenance, and, " O," said he, " I am 
 so happy ! " lie then turned to me, and said, " I wish to 
 join the church ; I would rather give my hand to you than 
 to any man I ever saw. You need not be afraid of me ; for, 
 by God's help, I will fight the whole warfare through." I 
 will not attempt to describe the effect of these w^ords of the 
 young convert upon myself and the congregation. I heard 
 some of the old members say, " we will have a class-leader 
 now." Some years after, Avhile passing through that neigh- 
 borhood, I spent a night with that young man. He was 
 then a class-leader, and had a wife and one child, and seemed 
 to be bound for heaven. I have never seen sister Postell 
 since ; but I suspect, if any of her family are living, they still 
 remember the Strange Preacher, and the dark-eyed young 
 man who joined the church that day. 
 
 It is time now to proceed to Rock Springs camp-ground, 
 where I did not expect to know any one but Brother McK. 
 I arrived there safely in due time, and found that scarcely 
 the half had been told me. I had never seen such a vast 
 crowd before. The famous London of camp-grounds was 
 before me. My mind was so impressed by the sight of the' 
 multiplied thousands there, that I did not notice as much of 
 the preaching, and the effect produced on the people, as I 
 generally do. Binnakers, Black Swamp, Cane-creek, Provi- 
 dence, Cattle-creek, Mount Carmel, and Broxton's Bridge — 
 are all small places, when compared with Eock Springs. 
 There stood the tents, three rows deep, with more than a 
 hundred in each row ; while some distance farther off were 
 
MODES OF AMUSEMENT. 71 
 
 seen vast numbers of cloth tents, like hills of snow, on which 
 the rising and setting sun shone so bright. While writing 
 of Eock Springs, and the vast multitudes which I saw there, 
 some of them more than a hundred miles from home, I feel 
 like saying to myself, " if all those men, women, and chil- 
 dren, who were present, were whole-souled, thorough-going 
 Christians, what a vast amount of good might be accom- 
 plished, and how gloriously might our Saviour's kingdom be 
 advanced ! " 
 
 I was introduced to many members of the church, and was 
 treated with much respect, and had more invitations than I 
 could meet ; but still, there were so many thousands there of 
 whom I knew nothing, that I felt like a stranger during my 
 first visit. I confess, that I looked more at the multitude 
 before me, than at the single man w^ho was preaching. At 
 each successive service, though there were many thousands 
 who listened with apparent respect to the word, there Avas 
 always a very large crowd who stayed away. One day, I 
 went out among them, and found them amusing themselves 
 in different ways — some laughing, some talking, some read- 
 ing, some writing, some eating, some gettijig drunk, others 
 buying or selling horses, some cursing, others whooping as 
 if they were on a fox-chase ; some were asleep, partly open- 
 ing their heavy eyes as I passed, others so buried in slum- 
 ber that you might think nothing would rouse them up but 
 a tremendous blast from Gabriel's trumpet ; some looking 
 very serious, as if they were sorry they had not gone to the 
 stand; while others were separated from the rest, as if they 
 wanted nothing to do with any but those belonging to their 
 own party. But the Holy One of Israel was present to bless 
 the word preached in faith, and also those who prayed for 
 the salvation of Israel. 
 
 During the intervals of service, prayer and singing could 
 be heard before the tents, and sometimes a preacher or ex- 
 horter would stand up and preach, the Lord blessing their 
 labor. Brother McK. and others preached with spirit and 
 power, and seemed to be used to such vast crowds, and knew 
 full well what was best to be done. At times, the great 
 crowd seemed to be moved by tremendous impressions, and 
 
72 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 there was piiii^iiii; th:it seemed almost loud enough to ])e 
 heard for miles. And then, when a general shout went up 
 from the hundreds of rejoicing souls who were not ashamed 
 for sinners and devils to hear them, you might almost 
 imagine that the dwellers on the other side of the river of 
 death heard the praises of God's people. 
 
 Saturday night arrived, and many thousands had assem- 
 bled ; and you felt like asking, if they would at last settle 
 down, and be as quiet as the occasion would permit ? Yes ; 
 for the mighty ocean sometimes ceases its raging, and re- 
 minds you of a quiet inland lake. The trees of a might}' 
 forest do not always bend beneath the strong winds of 
 heaven, for those winds do not alwaj's lilow. So the tre- 
 mendous, moving, restless crowd at last quieted down, and 
 was as a sleeping infant on it mother's breast. But now, 
 the singing again begun, and those loud voices appeared to 
 rise towards the heavens, and then that throng boAved in 
 humble prayer before the Lord of hosts. The Spirit was 
 powerfully present, and the arrows of truth flew through 
 that dense crowd. The impression was stiong, and all 
 seemed to participate in the feeling of the presence of God. A 
 crowd of mourners came forward, and their friends gathered 
 around them, urging and encouraging them to go to Jesus. 
 And the shouts of the new-born souls were heard at all hours 
 of the night, from all parts ofthat immense camp-ground. 
 
 The time for the 11 o'clock sermon on Sunday came, and 
 the crowd was much larger than before — that immense place 
 was filled to overflowing. Carriages and buggies were 
 ranged round, and benches and chairs were brought from 
 the tents, and filled, and yet hundreds remained standing. 
 A powerful impression seemed to be upon the dense throng, 
 and tears of repentance were falling from hundreds of weep- 
 ing eyes — while heaven-born smiles were seen on hundreds 
 of happy faces. 
 
 My first visit to Kock springs, the London of camp-grounds, 
 is past ; and many are now in heaven, who then and there 
 praised the God of their salvation ; but, O, my soul ! how 
 many are now in hell, who then and there refused the ofl'er 
 of mercv. 
 
LEAF THE TWELFTH. 
 
 THE BLACK SWAMP CAMP-MEETING, WHERE THE COLONEL OF 
 THE BEAUFORT RANGERS SURRENDERED HIS SWORD, AND 
 THE CAPTAIN OF THE GILLISONVILLE GUARDS LEFT HIS 
 POST. 
 
 Old Black Swamx) camp-ground — holy place ! time-honored 
 spot of earth ! never can I forget thee. O ! ye friends of mine, 
 who have gone to heaven from that once happy neighborhood, 
 and who are now safe in glory, if you ever in your holy home 
 above remember brethren on earth, I hope you sometimes 
 think of me. Blessed spirit of Brother Joseph Manor Law- 
 ton! — much-loved class-leader of old Union church — hast 
 thou, throned and crowned in heaven, no thought of those 
 friends still left on earth — ^preachers and others, who were 
 always made to feel at home under thy friendly roof? Loved 
 friend ! gone to a happier Eden than man first lost, dost 
 thou not often think of those left behind — some of whom 
 even now at times imagine that they still hear thy kind 
 greeting ? Blessed spirit ! dost thou ever spread thy golden 
 wings to revisit thy fatherland here below ? If thou dost, 
 I know thou art often hovering over Black Swamp camp- 
 ground, and thy much-loved Union church. O ! ye friends 
 of Christ and the church, who, in these troublous times, have 
 your tents still pitched within the bounds of Black Swamp 
 circuit, I hope you sometimes think of the preachers who 
 used to sit with you in heavenly places in Christ Jesus. I 
 often think of you, and hope your faith is still firmly fixed 
 on the Eock of Ages, and that you will land safely on the 
 other side of Jordan when life's pilgrimage is over. 
 
 Come, let us now, in our imagination, visit the old place, 
 and record some scenes connected with that well-remembered 
 meeting. 
 
 The time for the meeting had come, and the presiding 
 
 elder — whole-souled Dr. Boyd — with his staff had arrived. 
 
 The meeting began well, and continued to increase in inter- 
 
 5 ' 
 
74 STHAV J.EAVKS. 
 
 I'st. The second even in <^' had come, and it was almost time 
 for the sun to set, and the camp-fires would soon be brightly 
 burninf^ — and ])erhaps the heavenly guard, Tvhich had been 
 around the camp all day, was to be enlarged. The preach- 
 ers, who were still expected, came in due time, and their 
 many friends gathered around them — Major G. among them; 
 and who, that has ever felt the grasp of his hand, can ever 
 forget it? There, too, was Major E., with his smile of friendl}^ 
 welcome ; and Brother E. M., with his kindly greeting. But 
 who is that, approaching with quick step, to shake hands 
 with Dr. W., and him who now writes these lines ?. It was 
 the much-loved class-leader of Union church — Brother J. 
 M. L., the perfect Christian, and the noble gentleman — who 
 came more fully up to old Horace's description of the ^-f actus 
 homo ad ungucin" than the best Eoman who ever crossed the 
 Tiber in those immortal days. 
 
 The meeting continued on with blessed results ; and, O, 
 what a happy time we had from the Lord ! The Holy Spirit 
 came down, and the friends of Jesus sung the sweet songs I 
 loved so much — ''There is a happy land, far, far away;" 
 ''Our bondage here will end by and bye ;" " I would not live 
 alway ; " and many others. The preachers appeared to be 
 full of the blessed Spirit; Christians rejoiced; sinners were 
 deeply convicted ; and mourners were happily converted 
 while the shouts of the exulting servants of the Lord rang 
 through the grand old woods that border on the Savannah 
 river. I can never forget how much I enjoyed myself when 
 Brother Bond Ejiglish was preaching about the heavenly 
 gardener, and of Mary weeping over the yet undiscovered 
 Jesus, and saying, "if you have carried him away, O! tell 
 me where you have laid him." Brother E. went on, and the 
 heavens seemed to be coming nearer the earth ; and many 
 who listened and wept as they hung on his eloquence, will 
 often remember those moving words, "O! tell me where you 
 have laid him;" and many, who had with much pleasure 
 heard the preacher before, thought that he was then preach- 
 ing his best sermon. In the intervals of service, the time 
 was well spent in some of the tents — exhortation followed 
 prayer, and song followed song. The holy feeling seemed to 
 
THE TIDE RISING. 75 
 
 widen more and still more. I went into the woods with 
 others, to pray for the trembling mourners who were still 
 unconverted, unblessed. They cried for mercy, and entreated 
 their friends not to leave them. When we got there, Bro- 
 ther J. M. L., with a heart full of love and eyes full of tears, 
 spoke to those weeping souls, begging them to go to Jesus 
 ■just as they were, with no hope, no trust, in any other name; 
 and then the woods rang with the sweet songs of Zion ; then 
 Brother Blunt prayed, and the Lord heard ; and Colonel 
 J. A. and his brother seemed full of happy, holy thoughts. 
 
 But who is that now coming up so gallantly to the help of 
 the Lord against the mighty? Who that knew him well 
 can ever forget that war-worn veteran of a thousand battle- 
 fields — that sanctified knight of the cross — a preacher "with- 
 out reproach" — Brother McPhail. How he moved about, 
 speaking suitable words to all ; and then he prayed ; and 
 first one and then another was happily converted. xVnd then 
 the good man clapped his trembling hands together, and 
 passed through the throng, singing, with a voice that trem- 
 bled too, • 
 
 " ! brethren, will you meet me, In Canaan's happy land? " 
 
 And then. Brothers Lawton, Martin, Davis, Solomons, 
 Blunt, Allen, Eoberts, and others, all sung together, 
 
 '•Yes, by the grace of God, we'll meet you, In Canaan's happy land." 
 
 We then went to the stand where Dr. B. was to preach, 
 and the meeting still continued to increase in interest, for a 
 prince of Israel was now on the walls of Zion. The large 
 crowd appeared to be still more interested as the preacher 
 went on gathering holy strength, and the mourners came up 
 more willingly than ever, even before the singing commenced. 
 Those who were never there before came then, as if they 
 thought death and hell were close behind them ; prayer fol- 
 lowed prayer, and song succeeded song ; and holy angels 
 who were hovering near, carried the blessed tidings that the 
 dead had arisen and the lost were found. 
 
 I^ow, my friends, let me introduce you to the young Colonel 
 of the Beaufort Eangers, and the gallant Captain of the Gil- 
 
76 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 lisonville Guards. See the Strange Preacher seated by a 
 gentleman, who appears very glad to see him. They are 
 conversing in a low voice ; now they draw closer together — 
 the preacher taking his friend by the hand, and speaking 
 with a serious face. See how the gentleman hangs his head, 
 apparently listening, but for a while saying nothing. That 
 man is the Colonel ; and his friend is now telling him of the 
 time when he was a young man, not yet of age — of the time 
 when he joined the church and professed religion ; and how 
 his sister, the sweet singer of the Barnwell circuit, and many 
 others, thought he would be a preacher in after life. That 
 young man, who was then on his way to heaven, is now the 
 the Colonel of the Beaufort Eangers, and is on his way to 
 perdition. He remembers full well those better days. After 
 a while, he recovers partly from his emotion, and raises his 
 head, and says to his friend, " Those, sir, were by far my 
 happiest days ; for I felt that I was called to preach when I 
 first joined the church, but would not do so, and then I lost 
 my religion." He then added, with a serious face, " Prince 
 Immanuel has many officers. in his-service; and if I ever feel 
 like enlisting again, I w.ould much prefer surrendering my . 
 sword to you." The preacher replied, that whenever the 
 Colonel is ready to do so, he will w4th much pleasure receive 
 his sword, in the name of Prince Immanuel. 
 
 And now, my friends, come with me to another tent. Let 
 us wait and listen. There is a strong mind present, who 
 leads in the general conversation — to whom all are listening 
 with much interest. Would you not know -him again among 
 a thousand ? He is the Captain of the Gillisonville Guards. 
 
 But we are again summoned to the stand. The Strange 
 •Preacher says to himself, " I must pray in private for those 
 two friends ; for the Colonel has given me a hint. If I am 
 called to the pulpit, I will try to paint a picture for them 
 which I hope they will not soon forget. The Colonel was 
 once with us ; O, how I wish he would come back again ! 
 And, O, that the Captain's heart might be reached ! If he 
 were to come out on the Lord's side, a great victory would 
 be won, and the kingdom of darkness w^ould tremble almost 
 to its foundation." 
 
THE GREAT BATTLE. ' 77 
 
 The congregation at the stand Avas large. The seats were 
 all filled — carriages and buggies were rolled up and occupied 
 — benches and chairs were brought from the tents — and yet 
 Beveral remained standing. This was the most important 
 hour of the meeting. Dr. AYightman was in the pulpit, and 
 expectation was very high. He had many friends present, 
 who had often heard him with much pleasure, and their 
 hopes were now fully realized ; for, by the help of the Lord, 
 the great sermon of the meeting was then preached. The 
 interest which Avas at first manifested grew deeper ; but the 
 great battle had not yet been fought. Dr. W. rose and soared 
 in one eagle flight after another. B}" the help of the Lord, 
 he bent the far-famed bow of Ulysses, and shot all the arrows 
 through all the rings. But I must hasten on. 
 
 At the 3 o'clock service, the Strange Preacher occupied 
 the pulpit, and the friends, by his request, Avere singing a 
 song he loved very much — hundreds were singing — 
 
 '' I've listed, and I mean to fight 
 Till the warfare is over. ' ' 
 
 The preacher told the congregation, near the close of the 
 sermon, that the meeting would soon end, and that much 
 depended on the results of the passing hour. He told them, 
 that perhaps the report of the great battle then going on, 
 had not yet reached the court of the King of perdition ; and 
 he attempted to paint the scene which was soon to take 
 place, when the news of what was now going on should be 
 known in hell's dark empire; and he begged them, for a 
 little while, to imagine themselves present when the great 
 Enemy of man first hears the report of the Black Swamp 
 meeting. 
 
 The gloomy King was represented as seated on his fiery 
 throne, with his chief princes around him. The black plumes 
 of the vulture of despair waved over the Monarch's brow, and 
 his relentless guards were about him. All the court was in 
 full dress, and the ambassadors from diflerent parts of the 
 empire were present. It was a grand public day in hell. All 
 the great master spirits, who drew their swords with him 
 when he first unfurled his flag of rebellion in heaven, stood 
 
78 • STRAY i,i:avks. 
 
 close around the arclinni^ol fallen. The standini:: army of 
 perdition was seen in the distance, passini)- in awful review 
 on one of the ever-luirnini!; ])lains of damnation, before some 
 great spirit, who for the time rej)resents the absent Monarch. 
 Suddenly, a loud knocking is heard at the closed outer (h)ors 
 of the palace, and there is a slight stir within. Some one 
 steps up and wliispers to the Monarch. He speaks out aloud, 
 " No secrets here, when I am on my throne, and my court 
 in full dress before me. Let the expected messengers from 
 distant lands enter one at a time, and report what news they 
 bring." 
 
 The outer doors are opened now, " and their hinges grato 
 harsh thunder." First one comes, and then another, each in 
 due form saluting the King. The news generally, if not 
 pleas*ant, does not alarm him. He nods, or smiles, or looks 
 slightly serious, or speaks to some of the lords close by. One 
 after • another they come — from Africa, from Europe, from 
 America, from the Isles Of the Sea — from all the world. One 
 comes at last, with signs of distant travel about him. He is 
 just now from Burmah. He says — 
 
 •^ My lord king, every thing is going on generally well 
 there ; except that the Baptists are gradually winning their 
 way ; and Dr. Judson is much respected, and may in time 
 render your Majesty much damage." 
 
 The Monarch replies, that he is aware of that, and will 
 strengthen those places. The messengers still come, some 
 with news so pleasant, that he claps his hands, and says — ■ 
 <' that -will do ; I am very glad to hear it. You may expect 
 promotion soon." 
 
 And now, one comes wha has not been seen there for a 
 long time. He pays his respects to- the throne, and seems 
 to know right well how he will be welcomed. He says — 
 
 "My lord king, good news from China. Every thing is 
 going on there as well as you could wish. There is no sign 
 of danger." He is about to bow low now, and depart, but 
 adds — " My lord, one thing I had almost forgotten. On mv 
 return, as I was fl>^ng over the deep, I saw, far down below 
 me, a distant ship. Some strong impulse drew me near the 
 vessel There was a crowd on board, I found out, by some 
 
THE GRAND COUNCIL. 7d 
 
 talking I heard, that there were two preachers among them, 
 from the Methodist Church, South, on their way to China, to 
 convert the people. They were not in the best of spirits. 
 One of them said to the other, ^ You know, brother, the great 
 difficulty will be to learn the language.' 'Yes,' said the 
 other, ' it will take almost a life-time to master it.' I think, 
 my lord, you need not fear those men for a while.", 
 
 "]N"o," says the king, "not for a while; but those preach- 
 ers must be looked after. You may expect promotion soon. 
 Have they not all come," inquired the King. 
 
 "[N'o, my lord; there is still one absent." 
 
 " I wish he would hasten ; for I am expected to be present 
 at the close of the review." 
 
 " He is come now," is heard from the outer courts; '-'He is- 
 eonie," is spoken still nearer the throne. A spirit enters in 
 haste. He has no wish to change his dusty robes for his full 
 court dress. He enters, with sad news full, with a face far 
 more woe-begone than that man who at dead of night drew 
 aside old Priam's curtain, and told him, more than half his 
 Troy was burnt. He bows not the knee ; he pays no respects 
 to the throne ; he does not kiss the Monarch's ample robe. 
 '•Arrest the traitor," cries the King; ''hurl him into the 
 lowest prison." The guards rush up. The messenger stands 
 unmoved, with sad news full. " Stop, my lord king," says 
 he, "you have no truer servant here than I am." The King 
 signs to the guards to pause. 
 
 The spirit says, " Excuse my abrupt entrance, my unbent 
 knee ; no time for courtly respects now. I am just from 
 Black SAvamp camp-ground. I never flew so fast on my 
 dark wings before. Sad news, my lord, from Black Swamp ; 
 and I, the unhappy messenger." 
 
 "What!" said the Monarch, "from Black Swamp, did you 
 say?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " Why, I feared no repulse there. Come, tell me all, at 
 once I But stop, first close all the inner and the outer doors ; 
 let no one leave the presence. Come, now ; the news ! " 
 
 " Well, my lord ; as I was returning, on rapid wing, from 
 where I had first been sent, I passed near the place, and 
 
80 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 heard the tiound of song and prayer, ottered up to our Dread 
 Enemy. I paused, I turned aside, I joined the crowd, and 
 found much more thaVi usual interest manifested. Every 
 sermon preached seemed to make an im2:)iession on tho:<o 
 who listened ; while every now and then, some of those 
 whom I thought true to you, were confessing their sins, 
 and begging for mercy from Prince Immanuel. Dr. Boyd 
 preached one of his best sermons; the congregation was 
 much excited ; the mourners rushed up in crowds. But the 
 great effort was made by Dr. Wightman ; and you know, 
 my lord, he can preach, for you have heard him." 
 
 " Yes," says the King, " the Doctor knows how to preach ; 
 but go on." 
 
 " When the Doctor finished," said the spirit, " I said to 
 myself, ' without help all is lost.' I heard your gteat friend, 
 General K., from the other side of the Savannah river, say 
 to some one at his side, ' let us go to the altar,' and on they 
 went." 
 
 " That is strange news," said the Monarch, as he shook 
 his black plumes ; " strange, indeed. But I have not time 
 for all. How is it with the Colonel of the Beaufort Eangers, 
 and the Captain of the Gillisonville Guards ? I know they 
 are still true to me." 
 
 "Ah, my lord! the worst is yet to be told. I have not 
 seen the Colonel so much affected for years. I am afraid 
 he is lost to you." 
 
 " What of the Captain ? I know it is all right with him." 
 
 " My lord, the Captain was still at his post ; but he was 
 bleeding from more than a score of wounds. He had lost his 
 battle-axe; he was fighting bare-headed ; his keen Damascus 
 sword was broken at the hilt ; he had shot his last arrow ; 
 and he had nothing but his long lance left — he leaned against 
 it, only for a moment, to breathe, and Siiid to me, 'help, at 
 once, or all is lost. Tell your king, without instant help, all 
 is ruined.' " 
 
 The Monarch springs from his throne, shaking desperately 
 his black plumes. He draws his sword, he throws away his 
 scabbard. And now a cry is raised throughout all the court, 
 " Volunteers ! volunteers for Black Swamp." 
 
A GENERAL SURRENDER. 81 
 
 '•But one word more," says the spirit. "Stop, my lord 
 king. As I was spreading my wings for flight, I heard that 
 old preacher, MePhail, whisper to Dr. B., and say, ' If you 
 will order a general charge of bayonets soon, you will sweep 
 the field ; you know they cannot stand that.' And Dr. B. 
 said, ' Yes, brother ; and you shall lead the charge, when the 
 time comes.' " 
 
 The cry is now heard all over perdition's gloomy empire — 
 " Volunteers ! volunteers for Black Swamp! " 
 
 The preacher then told the congregation, that the fallen 
 spirits were then present on the ground, determined on their 
 ruin ; but that the hosts of the Lord were coming to their 
 help ; that the glorious news had reached heaven ; that the 
 cry too was heard all through the shining throng around 
 the throne above ; that the glorious cry was heard on both 
 sides of the river that makes glad the city of the Lord — 
 '' Volunteers ! volunteers for Black Swamp ! " He told them 
 that the blessed angels were there, with crowds of their 
 departed friends — all there for the help of the Lord against 
 the mighty. He told them, that the contending hosts of 
 heaven and hell were now meeting in awful combat above 
 and around them. And now he cried out, " once more to the 
 charge, dear friends, once more." 
 
 Then Dr. B. gave Brother McPhail the sign, and the war- 
 worn veteran passed through that crowd, with the dust of a 
 thousand fields fought and won upon him, singing at the top 
 of his trembling voice, as he clapped his hands together — 
 
 " I feel the work reviving, I feel the work reviving, 
 Reviving in my soul. 
 1 brethren, will you meet me, In Canaan's happy land ? "' 
 
 And hundreds of happy souls replied — 
 
 *'• By the grace of God, we'll meet you, In Canaan's happy land.'* 
 
 And now, the Captain could keep his post no longer 
 though he has been strongly re-inforced by the legions of 
 hell, and though the stern, relentless guards of the pit fough 
 as they always did while under the eye of their dread mon- 
 arch. The Captain left his post, upheld by his long lance. 
 
82 STRAY LEAVK8. 
 
 apparently soon to fall from' more wounds spiritually, than 
 those that took the life of Home's great Ciesar. Among the 
 mourners at the altar was seen the famous Colonel of the 
 Beaufort Eangei-s. The Strange Preacher, more than usually 
 excited, rushed up, and waving his handkerchief, cried out 
 aloud — • Colonel, I receive your sword, with much pleasure, 
 in the name of my Master, Prince Immanuel." 
 
 Now, farewell to Black Swamp camp-ground and the 
 Union church ! If I see them no more on earth, I hope to 
 remember them in the happy land, far, far awey. 
 
 " I would not live ahvay: I ask not to stay. 
 Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way; 
 The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here, 
 Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer. 
 
 '^ I would not live alway ; no — welcome the tomb, 
 Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom ; 
 There sweet be my rest, till he bids me arise, 
 To hail him in triumph descending the skies. 
 
 *' Vv'ho, who would live alway? away from his God, 
 Away from yon heaven — that blissful abode, 
 Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains' 
 And the noontide of glory eternally reigns : 
 
 *' Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, 
 Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet ; 
 While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, 
 And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul." 
 
LEAF THE THIETEENTH. 
 
 A CAMP-MEETING IN THE UP-COUNTRY, FROM AVHICH I FOUND 
 OUT SOMETHING I DID NOT KNOW BEFORE, 
 
 The Strange Preacher started for a camp-meeting m the 
 up-countr}^, in an old sulky of happ^^ remembrance. Did 
 you, my friends, ever have one of those old-fashioned sulkies, 
 with high wheels, and a high seat, from which you would 
 be thrown every now arid then, either by your careless 
 driving, or by the axle-tree breaking in the same place where 
 it had been mended before ? But your old horse w^as gentle, 
 perhaps — and, above all, Providence was kind to you— and 
 thereby you missed being thrown into mud or water, and 
 were never dashed against a tree. Well, friends, I once 
 owned such, a sulky, in which I travelled for many years ; 
 and I cannot tell you how much I thought of it. If I did 
 not get turned over, or thrown out, once in every three 
 months, I w^ould become cast down and depressed, thinking 
 something dreadful w^ould happen to me or my friends. But 
 as death at last separated David and Jonathan, so time and 
 rough roads parted the parson from his muchdoved old 
 sulky. I suspect some of my friends at times wonder why 
 Brother B. does not come up to their houses, singing, as he 
 used to do — --^ I have listed in the holy war ; " '-I want to 
 live a Christian here ; I want to die a-shouting." One reason 
 is, I miss my old sulky too much. If some of my kind friends 
 were to ask me what they must do for me, to make me feel 
 like old times, I would say, ^' Please give me an old sulky, 
 with an axlfe-tree that has been broken and mended in the 
 same place more than once, with high wheels, and a high 
 seat, and a horse that will stop quickly and stand very still 
 when I have been dropped or turned over." 
 
 Well, I left my home, my much-loved '-Mamre," as I called 
 it, in the famous old sulk}ii I was in fine spirits, for I was 
 expecting a good meeting, though I was on my way to a 
 place where I expected to see but few persons with whom I 
 was acquainted. It mattered not, for I had become accus- 
 
84 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 tomed to such thinc^s. I expected to see Brother Talley 
 there, who first licensed me to preach, and who was so kind 
 to me as to wait on me untit I got over my fright at that 
 (quarterly meeting at Green pond ; and Brother Crook, who 
 preached his best sermon at Binnakers, when the young 
 Captain of the Fish-pond Company struck his flag and came 
 out on the side of Prince Immanuel. I went on in fine 
 spirits. I was passing along a good road ; the woods were 
 quiet ; and more than one old large forest tree, not far from 
 the road, with wide-spreading limbs and green leaves, seemed 
 to say to me, "You had better stop, and bow your knee, and 
 pray to the Holy One of Israel, for a blessed time at camp- 
 meeting, and to take care of the loved ones at Mamre ; for 
 you will soon be travelling where you will see nothing but 
 straight lanes, and large open fields on right and left." So 
 I stopped, and prayed to the Blessed Hope of Israel, and 
 started off again, and travelled for miles, seeingjiothing but 
 large open fields on both sides, till I began to sigh for the 
 large trees with their friendly shade, and the murmuring 
 brooks with their little waves kissing the smooth pebbles, 
 and for the singing birds. And on I went, until I came once 
 more to the grand old woods, and I passed along the shady 
 road ; and I said again to myself, " I hope the owner of this 
 land, who has spared these time-honored trees so long — be- 
 neath whose friendly shade some brave soldier of Sumter 
 and of Marion may have rested for a while, during a sultry 
 summer's day, in the olden days of Seventy-six, and dreamed 
 as he slept of the gentle maid of the Enorce or of Lynch's 
 Creek, who wept as she thought of her absent lover — I hope 
 he will go to heaven when he dies, and rest in that happy 
 land, far, far awa3^" 
 
 On I went, still travelling through the grand old woods ; 
 and after a while, I said again to myself, '^ what a suitable 
 place to preach one of my Old Testament sermons." I then 
 looked up and down the road, and seeing no one in sight, I 
 gave out the text, '-And Moses %aid to Hobab, come thou 
 and go with us, for we Avill do thee good," and preached a 
 sermon, with the old forest trees for my congregation. My 
 old horse moved along slowly, taking his own time ; some- 
 
' DROPPED IN THE ROAD. 85 
 
 times he would trot along, and then he would walk slowly, 
 and then again he would stand still. I had got nearly 
 through the sermon, having more than once asked the 
 church to pray for me, and my horse was standing still, 
 with his head turned back, and I said to myself, " I hope he 
 is listening well pleased with the effort." Then he moved 
 slowly off. My sermon was over, and I turned to the sin- 
 ners — I entreated, I implored them, to give their hearts to 
 the Lord, and come up to the altar for prayer. I gave out 
 the hymn, " Come, ye sinners, poor and needy," etc., and 
 said, I hoped the mourners would come up, weeping as they 
 came. But what noise is that ? Nothing but my old sulky, 
 which had broken down again — the axle-tree having given 
 way in the same old place where it had often broken before. 
 I was dropped softl}^ in the road, and my horse stopped 
 very quick, and stood very still. I got up, and returned 
 thanks to the Lord for my deliverance ; ' and after a delay of 
 some hours the old sulky was mended again. Myself and 
 horse had been well cared for ; and the kind Presbyterian 
 brother, near whose house I then was, and who fixed me 
 up, would take no pay. 
 
 The next day I arrived safely at the camp-ground. Bro- 
 ther T. was not there ; but Brother C, who had charge of the 
 meeting, was the first to meet me — for which very thing I 
 had been praying on my way. He greeted me with a smile, 
 and a shake of the hand which went to my heart. I was 
 then presented to others, and was soon made to feel quite at 
 home by those up-country friends of our Saviour and his 
 church. Did you ever hear Brother C. sing, when his voice 
 had not yet failed ? Well, so he preached, and prayed, and 
 sung ; and the Strength of Israel was with him. "\Te had a 
 well-behaved and respectable congregation. I found some of 
 the old-time Methodists there, who did not care what the 
 world and the devil thought — when they felt like shouting 
 they did so. Brother C. put me up to preach more than he 
 ought to have done ; but >I thought perhaps it was because I 
 was a stranger, and might never be there again ; and be- 
 cause also I was a son of his in the gospel. 1 preached 
 three times ; but I do not remember my two first subjects. 
 
86 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 1 tliouL^ht I was i^cttiiiu; on ay usual, and the church was 
 })rayiMg for mo. The third werinon was at 3 o'clock on Sun- 
 day. I wont into the woods, as I often do, to ])ray before I 
 tried to ])roach ; and when I had gone where I thought no 
 one but the Lord would see me, or the holy angels, or the 
 little birds which were singing around mo, 1 bowed down, 
 and ])rayed for help, that God would bless hiis poor servant, 
 and that some souls might be converted — that I might have 
 8ome sign that I was in my Master's work. My text was, 
 '* I would not live alway." The Lord was with mc. The 
 llol}^ Spirit was abroad in the congregation. A large crowd 
 of mourners came up, and the services went on for some 
 time after preaching was over. Many were converted. Some 
 of the brethren professed perfect love. A preacher, who did 
 not believe in shouting, was completely carried away hy his 
 feelings. 
 
 The meeting was over. I started to go to another one 
 still further up. I had not ridden far, l^efore I was overtaken 
 by a young man, with a message from Brother C. and some 
 of the chief members, requesting me to come back, and hold 
 a protracted meeting in a neighborhood whore they thought 
 much good might be done. I turned back ; the meeting was 
 renewed, and the Lord was with us to the end. 
 
 "But," says some one, "you have not yet told us what it 
 was you learned that you did not know before." What I am 
 going to tell you now I did not know for several years after. 
 Some friends, who were at the meeting, afterwards told me, 
 that there had been no good impression made by my first 
 two sermons, but quite the other way — that my style of 
 preaching was so different from Avhat the people had been 
 used to, that neither saint nor sinner wished to hear me 
 again. After my first sermon, several of the members went 
 to Brother C, and requested him not to put me up any more. 
 Again, after my second sermon, the same request was made ; 
 and durino^ the intervals of service, one could hear both Me- 
 thodists and Baptists sa^-^iug, " I hope that Strange Preacher 
 will not be put ujj again." Now, my friends who have known 
 me long, know full well that if I had heard all that, I could 
 never have faced that congregation any more — that I w^ould 
 
HOW THE TIDE WAS TUKNED. 87 
 
 have struck my flag at once, and started back for the Wal- 
 terboro circuit. I was told, that on Sunday evening, after I 
 had left the tent for the woods, the principal members came 
 to Brother C. once more, and asked if it was possible I was 
 to be put up again ; that no one wanted to hear me ; that I 
 had already been imposed upon them enough ; and that 
 there was no preacher, or exhorter, or class-leader that they 
 would not rather see in the pulpit than me ; and they begged 
 him to change the appQintment. But he told them he did 
 not have the heart to do it, that I was then in the woods at 
 prayer, and that the Lord blessed me sometimes, and he 
 was hoping for the best. 
 
 Under these great difficulties, I went to the stand, and 
 preached my third sermon, and with God's blessing I was 
 able to turn the tide of feeling for the first time, with great 
 power bearing everything before it. After this, those same 
 persons went back to Brother C, and told him they were 
 very sorry for what they had said, and that their minds had 
 undergone a complete change : that I must be brought back 
 and the meeting 4'enewed. From that time, 1 have learned 
 that I get along better after the people become accustomed 
 to my ways ; and that I ought not to expect much when 1 
 stand before a congregation for the first time ; and that I 
 never can pray too often to the Lord, before preaching. 
 
LEAF THE FOURTEENTi:. 
 
 CENTRE'cAMP (iUorNI), north CAROLINA, AND THE LOW-COUNTRY 
 dinner; AND HOW THE ' CLASS-LEADER's WIFE WAS CON- 
 VICTED AND CONVERTED. 
 
 The time had come when I was to take another ride iii 
 my old sulky. Brother James Stacy was the presiding 
 elder — a man for whom I always had the hii^hest respect. 
 He had always treated me with much kindness. AYhen I 
 think of Brother Stacy, how many places of my wandering 
 life rise before me! Georgetow^n, Marion, Centre, Gilbo 
 Bcnnettsville, Fayetteville, Binnakers. and others. Where I 
 have heard him once, I Avish it had been many tirhes. I do 
 not remember the names of many of the other preachers, 
 but I know Brother Simmons was there. 
 
 While recalling my visit to Centre camp-ground, a certain 
 famous low-country dinner on Saturday is the first thing I 
 think of Let me make a confession, and throw myself on 
 the kindness of my friends in the upper part of my own State 
 and North Carolina. Though I have so long been roaming 
 to and fro, I have never lost my relish for a good low-country 
 dinner. When I first began to rove, though eveiy thing was 
 always so bountiful on the tables of the up-country, yet the 
 low-country style of cookery w^as very often missed by me. 
 jS'ow you know, w^hen a long-absent and much-loved friend 
 turns up unexpectedly, the pleasure of meeting is all the 
 greater, if not looked for. So it was with the Strange 
 Preacher on that memorable occasion. Now, friends, fancy 
 you' see the parson sitting down unexpectedly to a fine low- 
 country dinner. I will not tell you of all the very nice 
 things which passed in due order before us. Suffice it to 
 say, I enjoyed myself very much from the first to the last, 
 or as old Horace w^ould say, " from the egg to the apple." 
 Brother Stacy had told me, before we went to the tent, that 
 he wanted me to preach the 3 o'clock sermon. It was to be 
 my first efi'ort there, and he told me he was much interested 
 in it. He said, he was anxious for his friend, the War 
 
THE STRANGE PREACHER CONQUERED. 89 
 
 Preacher, to swing clear. I was fully convinced, that as a 
 general rule, a preacher must not eat too much, if he has to 
 preach soon after. When thus situated, I usually refrained 
 somewhat ; and if it was left to me, I would always avoid 
 preaching after dinner. It was said of the greatest of all 
 the Caesars, that he " came, saw, and conquered." But, alas, 
 for the Strange Preacher! he came, saw, and was conquered. 
 I did not know till years after, how the presiding elder 
 trembled when he saw what an impression even the sight of 
 that dinner had made on me. If I could have seen the 
 anxious looks he cast at me from time to time, I might, as 
 I thought so much^ of him, have made a desperate effort to 
 hold in. A friend present told me long after, that Brother 
 S. was very restless, as he saw how much I enjoyed that fa- 
 mous dinner — that, as the good things on the parson's plate, 
 as often as it was replenished, disappeared like "foam on 
 the river," he every now and then would touch my friend's 
 hand, or press his foot ; and that when he saw the Strange 
 Preacher swallow down his second large tumbler of butter- 
 milk, he whispered to him that there was no preaching in 
 Brother B., and dismissed the table as soon as possible. We 
 then retired to the preachers' tent. Brother S. remarked to 
 his friend that there was no preaching in Brother B., after 
 eating such a dinner, saying, " my last hope left me when I 
 saw him drink his second tumbler of buttermilk ; it is all 
 over with Brother B. ; I wished so much to have him make 
 a good impression this evening ; but there is no hope for it 
 now, and it is too late to change the appointment." I did 
 not know what was passing in his mind ; but I knew that I 
 had eaten too much — there was no mistake about that. I 
 felt dull and sleepy, and went to rest a little, as I thought it 
 would be some time before preaching. I did not know for a 
 long time after, how anxiously my friends watched my every 
 movement. My much-resjoected Brother S. drew a long sigh, 
 as one that thought his last lingering hope w^as gone. He 
 w^hispered to his friend, "it is all over now, there is no 
 preaching in him ; my last trust was, that he would not lie 
 down, but keep moving about slowly, and thus at last be- 
 come roused up a little. AVhat a pity ! " The Strange 
 6 
 
90 STRAY LEAVRS. 
 
 Preacher laid down, and the buttermilk — the crowning 
 oftonce — hojxan its work. Old Somniis was iroin^ to lead 
 rae otr a willing; captive. I do not think liard of what my 
 friends did on the occasion, though, at the time, it was very 
 un])leasant to me. When they remembered how the War 
 Preacher's flag had often waved so freely on many stricken 
 fields, I suppose they dreaded very much the expected pas- 
 sage of arms for that evening, when they thought that 
 perhaps the slightest touch of hostile lance would throw 
 him from his gallant steed upon a dishonored field. Their 
 next effort was to keep me from falling asleep. When they 
 saw I Avas going to drop oif, first one and then another 
 would come up, and say, or do, something to arouse me. I 
 would about half open my dull heavy eyes, and look at them 
 with a vacant glance, and then close them again. I wished 
 they would leave me alone for a few minutes; but, no, they 
 kept it up. It was at last thought that the influence upon 
 me would in the end prove too strong for their united efl'orts, 
 and that I would pass off into a deep, profound slumber, 
 from which even the loud sounding horn would scarcely 
 arouse me. Look at the picture — there lay the Eoving 
 Preacher, having indulged himself too much at that famous 
 low-country dinner, the crowning sin of which was the two 
 large tumblers of buttermilk. Between us, my friends, re- 
 member that what I am now going to tell you, is in confi- 
 dence. As a last resort, the friends resolved to have the 
 horn blown about a half-hour earlier than usual — that some 
 cold water should be brought from the spring, and that the 
 parson should be aroused up at once, and persuaded to bathe 
 his face and head well, and his arms up to the elbow, and to 
 open his eyes in the cold water. I tried hard to go to sleep, 
 but they would not let me ; I was nearly gone, and if I had 
 been left undisturbed for five minutes, I would perhaps have 
 been dreaming of the loved ones at Mamre. But Brother S. 
 came up and shook me, and told me it was time to get up — 
 that the horn was blowing. He then advised me to try the 
 cold water. I felt a little relieved; but still there was a 
 heavy influence upon me. There w^as a little time to spare, 
 so I stepped into the woods, and offered a brief prayer to the 
 
'^SOLOMON, MY SON." 91 
 
 Strength of lerael for help. Something seemed to whisper 
 to me — perhaps it was the spirit of some loved preacher gone 
 to glory, it might have been Brother Higgins or Brother 
 McCall — " Try, ' Solomon, my son ; ' and make the ghost 
 shake his gory locks, and remember the casting off for ever." 
 
 We went to the stand ; and I gave out for my text, 
 David's charge to Solomon on his death-bed. I imagine, if 
 ever there was a time that strong, urgent prayer was offered 
 up for me, both by preachers and people, that was the time. 
 I doubt very much if Brother Stacy ever thus remembered a 
 preacher before. I was as " clay in the hands of the potter." 
 The set time had come to favor Zion. The Spirit was pre- 
 sent, and the Lord's word did not return unto him void. I 
 heard afterwards, that Brother S. said, ''Brother B. got 
 through much better than I expected, although he had en- 
 joyed the famous dinner so much, and finished off with the 
 two tumblers of buttermilk." 
 
 I have never forgotten that time ; but since then I have 
 tried to be more careful when similarly situated. • The meet- 
 ing went on, Brothers Stacy and Simmons preaching with 
 the Holy Ghost and with power. Did you ever hear Bro- 
 ther Stacy, when the Spirit was present, and everything 
 was right with him? That was the way it was with him at 
 the Centre camp-meeting. I remember well what a glorious 
 meeting we had on Saturday night — time of immortal re- 
 membrance. I think Brother Simmons preached. He was 
 clear, impressive, and powerful ; and many mourners were at 
 the altar. The church was seen, "coming out of the wilder- 
 ness, leaning on the breast of her beloved ; fair as the moon, 
 bright as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners." 
 Many persons went through the crowd, and implored their 
 loved friends to come to the altar. The father went to his 
 son, the mother to her daughter, the sister to her brother, 
 and the husband to his wife — and many were thus per- 
 suaded to come 
 
 There was a class-leader there, who had very recently 
 married his second wife. He seemed to love her very de- 
 votedly. She was beautiful, and fond of dress and display. 
 He went to her, and pressed her to come to the altar ; and 
 
92 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 ill last ])rcv:iilc(l on her to come. She went ratlicr reluc- 
 tantly, and (lid not knoel ; but sat down with a Irown on her 
 face. Her husband seemed to feel deeply for her, while she 
 remained unmoved. I was very Hurry for him, and tho'ught 
 I would talk to her ; but I met with Buch a reception that 1 
 soon left. After we went to the tent, I heard the preachers 
 say, they wished the brother had not gone to his wife, as 
 they were afraid it did more harm than good. I felt sorry 
 ibr him, and I made up my mind to pray much for his wife. 
 Often, when at such places, I become more interested in 
 some persons more than others, and make them the objects of 
 earnest pra\'er ; and I have often had the pleasure of know- 
 ing, that they had come out on the Lord's side. I even now 
 recollect many such instances. At the 11 o'clock service on 
 Sunday, the right man w^as in the right place — Brother 
 Stacy w^as well prepared, and preached a finished sermon 
 to a large and attentive congregation. He had recovered 
 from his fears of the day before, and told the Strange 
 Preacher that he wanted him ti^ try the 3 o'clock sermon 
 again ; and I determined not to indulge too much, and I 
 held in somewhat, and did not drink any buttermilk. I 
 retired to the woods, and entreated the Lord to bless my 
 last effort ; I prayed that the class-leader's wife might be 
 convicted and happily converted. I made up my mind to 
 paint a picture, at the close of the sermon, if the Lord would 
 help me, that she w^ouid remember for j^ears. 
 
 The horn blew long and loud. My faith w^as strong, my 
 trust in God firm. I had hold of the blessed Eock. Some 
 of my much-loved songs were sung, and my hopes were 
 high. The subject was, the resurrection of Lazarus ; and 
 for the introduction I read the greater part of the chapter. 
 I begged the Lord to grant me, " the thoughts that breathe, 
 and the words that burn." The death-bed, wdth its heavenly 
 surroundings, was described ; the scene at the grave was 
 dwelt on ; also the rising from the grave. I then told the 
 members of the church, I wished to give them some parting 
 advice, as we might never again meet in this vale of tears. 
 I told them not to count too strongly on their relatives and 
 friends coming out from the w^orld. and starting for heaven, 
 
THE class-leader's WIFE CONVERTED. 93 
 
 for many of them would be lost for ever ; and that they 
 would be sadly disappomted if they expected to meet them 
 in heaven, l^o matter how much they loved them in this 
 world — in eternity they would have to bid them an eternal 
 farewell ; that we would be saved on the right hand of the 
 throne — they thrust down to hell ; that parents must not 
 expect to see all their children in glory. I told them, I 
 knew full well it was a sad, a heart-breaking thought, to 
 think of their being separated in all eternity from those we 
 love so much on earth ; hence they should not count too 
 strong on meeting them in the green fields of Eden. I 
 begged them to remember what I was going to say — to 
 follow my advice, should they never see me again. I then 
 told them, perhaps it was best not to say any thing now to 
 those of their friends whom they thought had made up their 
 minds never to come out on the Lord's side ; but to try to 
 make them pass pleasantly through life, to grant them every 
 wish, and to render them as happy in this world as possible, 
 as they would never enjoy the happiness of heaven. I told 
 the father thus to treat his wayward son, the mother her 
 daughter who would not live for the Lord, the sister her 
 brother, the wife her husband — and thus through all the 
 relations of life. The Strange Preacher now took his sharp- 
 est arrow from the quiver, and he placed it to the string, 
 and drew it to the head. It was for the class-leader's wife. 
 He said there were many husbands on their way to heaven, 
 who loved their wives dearly, but there was no hope for 
 them — they would be lost for ever. He advised such a hus- 
 band to love his wife, if possible, more than ever — to give 
 her a heaven below, as there was none for her in the world 
 to which she was hastening ; to try to grant her every re- 
 quest, and to anticipate her every wish, but never to urge 
 her to attend church — that he must gather sweet flowers for 
 her all through life, for there would be no flowers for her there 
 — that he must never use harsh words to her, nothing but 
 words of love — and that he should request preachers never 
 to speak to her of her soul's salvation and of heaven — that 
 he must be careful of her health, to try to save her from the 
 cold of winter, and the heat of summer — that, as she would 
 
94 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 never give her heart to the Lord, she must have sweet 
 flowers to walk on, on her way to hell. 
 
 The arrow was shot, and the sermon ended. Mourners 
 were called up, and among the many who came was the 
 class-leader's wife. She was in such distress, that a lady 
 who sat near her told me afterwards, she expected her to go 
 into convulsions ; and she said, loud enough to be heard by 
 those around her, " I know the preacher meant me ; but I 
 will not go to hell, even if I have nothing but sweet flowers 
 to walk on." Brother McA. seemed ready at that moment 
 to go to heaven from the Centre camp-ground, when he saw 
 his much-loved wife, who had been bowed down for a long 
 time, realize the forgiveness of her sins. I fancy I see her 
 now, with happy heart, with smiles and tears, praising the 
 Lord, going among the ladies at the altar, and begging them 
 to give their hearts to their Saviour. The rejoicing class- 
 leader threw his arms around me, and said, ^' I never can 
 forget you, no, never; for, by the help of the Lord, you 
 have saved my wife." 
 
 I have often longed to see my friends of the Centre camp- 
 ground ; but we have never met since. May we meet in 
 heaven to part no more ! 
 
 '' ! for a glance of heavenly day, 
 To take this stubborn heart away ; 
 'And thaw, with beams of love divine, 
 This heart, this frozen heart of mine. 
 
 '* The rocks can rend; the earth can quake ; 
 The seas can roar ; the mountains shake ; 
 Of feeling all things show some sign, 
 But this unfeeling heart of mine. 
 
 '* To hear the sorrows thou hast felt, 
 Lord ! an adamant would melt ; 
 But I can read each moving line, 
 And nothing moves this heart of mine. 
 
 '^ But something yet can do the deed ; 
 And that blest something much I need : 
 Thy Spirit can from dross refine, 
 And melt and change this heart of mine." 
 
LEAF THE FIFTEENTH. 
 
 now I GOT THE NAMES OF "WAR PREACHER" AND "WANDER- 
 ING ARAB." 
 
 As far back as I can remember, I was very fond of reading 
 of wars — of wars by land and sea. I was anxious to learn 
 all I could of heroes and warriors, both of olden and modern 
 times. I had always been so fond of such reading, that 
 when I became a preacher, I was disposed to treat of war- 
 like scenes, with Avhich the Old Testament abounds. And 
 though I have been preaching for nearly thirty years, this 
 habit still clings to me — it has become, as it were, a second 
 nature. 
 
 In years gone by, I had an appointment at a church called 
 Bethlehem, near a Brother Izlar — a much respected friend 
 of mine. Near the church, I passed the tents of several tra- 
 vellers, on their way to Florida from the old North State, 
 and some of the strangers were among my congregation. I 
 preached, and as usual indulged in some warlike pictures, 
 though not as much as I had on other occasions, as I did not 
 think the subject called for so many. It was Jer. xiv. 8. 
 During the sermon, I noticed that one of the strangers was 
 very attentive. When the meeting was over, I was intro- 
 duced by Brother Izlar to them, one of whom, a Brother 
 Terry, said he was a class-leader — I think, from Anson county. 
 North Carolina. We dined w^th Brother I. that day, and 
 spent several pleasant hours together. He was a man of 
 intelligence and pleasing manners. He was going to look at 
 Florida ; and, if pleased, to move his family out there, which 
 he did, and after some years died there. As he was parting 
 with us, he said, with a marked expression on his face, " you 
 will hear from me again." We did not fully understand his 
 meaning, but told him we would be glad to do so. From 
 Florida he wrote several letters to the Southern Christian 
 Advocate, describing his trip, and what he thought of the 
 country. This, we both concluded, was what he meant by 
 
96 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 saying, '' you will hear from mc again ;" but avc were mis- 
 taken ; for, when he returned for his family, he published in 
 one of the papers of Fayetteville, a description of the 
 preacher and sermon he had heard near Brother Izlar's. 
 I never saAV it ; but some of my friends told me, that in his 
 article Brother Terry said, he thought, "that man should be 
 termed the ' AVar Preacher;'" and he was "surprised the 
 name had not been given before ; but hoped persons would 
 take the hint, and call him by that name." So several per- 
 sons began to call me the " War Preacher." 
 
 Some months after this, I was at a camp-meeting in North 
 Carolina, and as I was passing over the ground a minister 
 called me to him. There was a stranger with him, who, he 
 said, had read Brother Terry's article, and wanted an intro- 
 duction to me. He then introduced me in due form, as the 
 "War Preacher from the Vralterboro circuit." This was 
 done more than once while on the ground. 
 
 I had not paid much attention to it up to that time, but 
 began to think more about it. I thought if the friends were 
 determined to give me a name, I would much prefer another. 
 When I got home, I asked some of my friends to help me ; 
 and told them I would rather be called the " Walterboro 
 Preacher," as I was born there. So we started an opposition 
 party, who called me by the latter name. I more than once 
 called myself by it in the pulpit. We tried it for some time, 
 but had to give up at last. One of our preachers once told 
 me publicly, in the congregation, at Broxton's Bridge camp- 
 meeting, that I might as well let them have their own way ; 
 that I could not stop them, as the thing had then gone too 
 far. So I gave up, and in time became fond 'of the name ; yet 
 there are some persons who do not seem to like that name 
 as much as another I am often called by — "the Old War- 
 horse ;" but I do not fancy that name. 
 
 Many years ago, I was at a very interesting meeting up 
 the country, where a lady of intelligence said to me, she did 
 not think I had the right name yet ; that as I wandered about 
 so much, she thought I ought to be called the "Wandering 
 Arab ;" and thus another name was given to me. Some 
 months after this, I was on a steam-boat, with many preach- 
 
THE OLD NEGRO WOMAX. 97 
 
 ers of onr church. One of them came up to me, and said, 
 there was some excitement on board. I inquired what was 
 the matter. He said, it was noised abroad among the ladies 
 and gentlemen, that the AYandering Arab was among them. 
 
 I was once at a meeting of some interest, with one of our 
 preachers. After I left, he wrote several verses, descriptive 
 of the Wandering Arab, and the subjects on which he had 
 preached. 
 
 Several years ago, while returning home with some friends, 
 several preachers among them, from a camp-meeting in the 
 up-countrj', w^e overtook an old negro woman, who seemed 
 to be in fine spirits, toiling along the highway. Some of the 
 companj" asked her where she had been. She said, she was 
 on her way from Goshen Hill camp-meeting, and that she 
 had enjoyed herself very much there. And that among 
 other things, she blessed the Lord she had lived to hear 
 ('aptain Bellinger once more. So it seems I have been called 
 by many names. I was once at a camp-meeting in the up- 
 country, where I found that my singularity, and the differ- 
 ent names by which I was called, made me an object of 
 interest to some persons, who followed me about from one 
 part of the ground to another. One morning, quite early, a 
 stranger was seen sitting down, not far from the preachers' 
 tent, watching the door close by. He remained there some 
 time. Several persons asked him what was the matter ; if 
 he wished anything. He said, he was waiting for the War 
 Preacher to come out ; that he was determined to follow 
 him when he went to breakfast, as he wanted to see all he 
 could of him. Some one told me to remain in as loner as I 
 could, to see if he would still remain. I did so, and he kept his 
 post. At last, I came out ; he stood still till I passed, and 
 then followed close behind. He went to the same tent, but 
 did not eat any breakfast ; he only sat down near by, and 
 watched me all the time. • 
 
 Being the War Preacher, of course I was expected to have 
 a flag, and to wave it sometimes. I must of course have a 
 gallant steed, harnessed for the battle ; the saddle was said 
 to be a Spanish one, high before and behind. I was once at a 
 camp-meeting in the lower part of the State ; I did not feel 
 
98 sTiiAY lkavj:s. 
 
 very well, but had to preach that night. Some of the friendB 
 wished mo to make a succesHful effort. 1 remarked, play- 
 fully, that I did not feel as if I could even mount my gallant 
 steed, much lees make a splendid charge. Several remarks 
 were made ; at last a good Baptist brother ^aid he was so 
 much interested in having me mounted, that he would hold 
 the bridle and stirrup for me. Before preaching that night, 
 some one overheard two young ladies talking. One asked 
 the other if she was going to the stand. " O ! yes ; I would 
 not miss it for the world ; for I understand the parson is to 
 mount his war-horse, and I must be there." The other then 
 asked, how would she like to ride behind him. She said she 
 would like very much to do so, if she was only good enough. 
 The horn blew, service began, the singing was fine, and we 
 had a large attentive congregation. I think that was a time 
 when the supplications of the church prevailed ; for a most 
 glorious outpouring of the Spirit was granted to us. I told 
 the friends, that by the help of the Lord, and the prayers of 
 the faithful, and the aid of a good brother present, I was at 
 last mounted on my gallant steed ; that I felt him pawing 
 the ground ; that his neck was clothed with thunder ; that 
 he was tossing his head towards the heavens ; and that my 
 war flag was waving gloriously. Many mourners came up, 
 several were happily converted ; and we had an old-time 
 meeting. Both of the young ladies were deeply convicted, 
 and some time after were converted. One of them has since 
 died, and I hope went to heaven ; the other I had the plea- 
 sure of meeting last summer. 
 
LEAF THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 MY FIRST VISIT TO GULLY CAMP GROUND, DARLINGTON 
 DISTRICT. 
 
 I went to this meeting in company with Brothers Eichard- 
 son, Felder, and Smith. It was just after we had had some 
 heav}^ rains, and had some difficulty in reaching the ground. 
 The meeting had been going on for some time when we 
 reached it. We were warmly welcomed by Brother Talley, 
 the presiding elder of the district — a very polished, refined 
 gentlem"an, much respected by all who know him — one of 
 the war-worn veterans of our church. 
 
 This camp-ground was a famous place, where large crowds 
 had gathered from year to year, and where much good had 
 been done. I found the presiding elder well supported by a 
 gallant band of preachers, good men and true, ready and 
 eager to join battle with the enemy, who were strongly en- 
 trenched on the ground. The services went on, with some 
 interest manifested ; but not so much as you sometimes see 
 at such places. Brother T. and his staff were at their post, 
 enduring hardship like good soldiers ; and the battle was 
 hotly contested by the opposing forces of light and darkness 
 — sometimes one side, and then the other, appearing to have 
 the advantage. " Each adverse host was gored with equal 
 wounds." Many persons were there to do and get' good, 
 who were deeply interested in the progress of the meeting, 
 and whose prayers were going up night and day for the ex- 
 tension of the Saviour's kingdom ; but then, again, there 
 were many careless, indifferent souls — some of them, alas ! 
 members of the church — who were there, apparently, only 
 to enjoy themselves after the fashion of the world — to see 
 and be seen, to come to the stand at one service, and then, 
 if they felt like it, to stay in the tents. Others were there, 
 far gone in sin and transgression — open, heaven-daring sin- 
 ners, who were " madly rushing to ruin as a horse in battle." 
 I have never been at a meetincj with Brother Felder where 
 
100 STRAY l.EAVES. 
 
 God's work Avas not frlorionsly revived. And this was not 
 to be an excei)tion. He was just the man for such a plaee — 
 a good preacher, a <!;o()d exhorter, and one ol" the best singers 
 of our church; who j^-ayed at times as if heaven and earth 
 were coming togetlier ; and who was of a fine, commanding 
 appearance, both in and out of the pulpit. lie, with Bro- 
 thers K., S., and E., and others from time to time, threw 
 himself nobly into the thickest of the fight, causing the 
 enemy, more than once, to retreat from the field, with the 
 loss of many prisoners. During the intervals of preaching, 
 interesting services were held in some of the tents, and those 
 brothers did good service at such times. "Whenever I heard 
 Brother F. clapping his hands, and singing, " The warfare is 
 over," or " I want my friends to go with me," or " I will join 
 the army, by and bye," I knew that all was right, and that 
 the work of the Lord was reviving. 
 
 Brother Talley, the hero of a thousand stricken fields, Avith 
 the marks of the war hemlet on his brow, and his keen Dam- 
 ascus blade in his hand, preached the 10 o'clock sermon on 
 Sunday. The crowd was large, and generalh^ respectful and 
 attentive. After awhile the work became more serious, as the 
 preacher went on warming with the heav^enly fire that filled 
 his heart. The joys of heaven were described to the listen- 
 ing multitude. More than one "amen" was heard; more 
 than one "bless the Lord " was spoken by some happy heart ; 
 and there was a strong, deep feeling rising in the congrega- 
 tion. On the preacher went, increasing in strength and 
 and power ; now he paused, only for a little v/hile ; the 
 church looked, and listened, and prayed; he turned to the 
 sinners and bore down on them with all his might. Some of 
 them had been exposed to these broadsides before, and seemed 
 to dread what was coming. A few left the stand and has- 
 tened to the tents ; for they had no heart to face the fire. 
 The preacher described the dread judgment day, Avith all its 
 sublim6 and aAvfiil surroundings. The King Eternal was 
 seen upon his dazzling throne, and the entire world was 
 before it ; and the eternal separation took place ; the wicked 
 on the left received their final sentence, "depart ye cursed:" 
 they stood on the battlements of glory and looked on the 
 
THE CROWD OF REVELLERS. 101 
 
 happy throng before them for the last time ; they were 
 driven off; they sunk down, hopelessly down, till they 
 reached the dark realms of ruin ; they were forever lost ; it 
 was one eternal night of endless misery for them ; despair, 
 the black vulture of hell, flapped her wings over their heads 
 and bade them hope no more ; they sunk down beneath the 
 awful Avaves ; they were lost to sight for hundreds of years. 
 At last they rose again on some distant burning wave of 
 damnation; they lifted their despairing eyes to heaven; they 
 cried out, " Watchman, watchman, what of the night? How 
 long must we remain amidst these eternal fires ?" The watch- 
 man replied, ''Eternity; Eternity." They now sunk down 
 again, lost to view for thousands of years ; they now rose 
 again on some gloomy billow ; they still heard the hope ex- 
 pelling words, "forever, forever." The sermon was over, 
 and the mourners came up in great numbers ; Christians re- 
 joiced, sinners trembled. The kingdom of the Lord was 
 greatly advanced. Brother E. looked as if he saw the green 
 fields on the other side of the flood. Brother F. stood erect 
 and clapped his hands and cried, " Glory ! glory !" The Strange 
 Preacher sprang to his feet and shouted out, "Farewell, 
 world, I am bound for the kingdom !" 
 
 We had a season of great refreshing, but still there were 
 many who stood off, who would not give their hearts to the 
 Lord. There were many ladies and gentlemen there — in the 
 church and out of it — who seemed resolved to enjoy them- 
 selves, pleasantly, as they thought. In the intervals of ser- 
 vice they formed in groups and promenaded the ground. 
 Sunday afternoon came, and it was nearly time for the three 
 o'clock sermon. And now a larger number of promenaders 
 than had yet been seen had met, and arm locked in arm were 
 parading all over the camp-ground — before the stand — before 
 the preacher's tent — every where. Many were now hasten- 
 ing from all sides and joining them. The beauty, the talent, 
 the wealth of Sumter and Darlington were circling round, 
 and still round throughout the ground, laughing and talking. 
 The Strange Preacher Avas very sorry to see that sight ; he 
 had to preach the next sermon. He would be glad to see 
 that gay party broken up and dispersed ; so he resolved to 
 
102 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Bee if they could bo prevailed on to leave off that circling 
 round and round. lie gathered a cjroup of friends, and they 
 began to sing some of the much loved songs of the church. 
 They placed themselves where the party would pass very 
 near to them. The revellers were coming nearer and still 
 nearer; and the singing became louder; and the preacher 
 was in hopes that the gay throng would pause — would listen 
 — that some few of them, at least, would come over to his 
 side. But alas! no; on and still on they went, round and 
 still round. The singing still went on — the sweet songs of 
 Zion. The revellers were coming round once more — how the 
 Strange Preacher's heart was beating. A few came over and 
 joined us, but the crowd still continued on. The horn then 
 blew for the three o'clock service, and both parties w^ent to 
 the place of worship. The Strange Preacher said to himself: 
 "If the Lord will help me. I will paint a picture for those 
 revellers which I hope some of them will never forget." 
 Brother F, sang one of my favorite songs. When the sermon 
 was nearly over, the Strange Preacher told the congregation 
 he would paint a picture which he hoped they would remem- 
 ber for a long time ; that there was a time, many 3'ears ago, 
 when a gay party met near the water's edge for a sail of 
 pleasure ; that the sky was clear and the water smooth. The 
 ladies and gentlemen seemed in gay spirits, but their friends 
 who followed them with wistful looks were very uneasy, for 
 not far off was a dangerous whirlpool where many noble 
 ships had been lost. Every effort had been made to induce 
 them to come back, but all in vain. They smiled, and clapped 
 their hands, and laughed, and said there was no danger. For 
 awhile all was bright — the ocean was as calm as a lake where 
 no breath of air was stirring. Their friends on the shore 
 still implored them to return ; a mother with tears in her 
 eyes entreated her daughter to come back ; the father his 
 son, the brother his sister, but all in vain. The gay party 
 of revellers at last found out their danger, but it was too 
 late ; they implored their friends to save them, but it was 
 too late now. Their friends on shore closed their eyes, as 
 the gay party sank down beneath the dark waters, never to 
 rise till that great and awful day. The preacher then told 
 
THE REVELLERS DISPERSED. 103 
 
 them of that gay party that had so lately been there sport- 
 ing near that whirlpool of eternal fire, while devils looked on 
 and rejoiced — while the holy angels almost wept as they 
 looked on from the portals of heaven. He told them how 
 some of their friends had tried, by singing some of the sweet 
 songs of Zion, to draw them away from the awful danger so 
 near. But they would not come ; though every exhortation 
 they refused brought them still nearer the gulf of perdition 
 that would soon swallow them up. He told them how 
 grieved their pious friends at home would be when they 
 heard how they had been sporting at the Gully camp-ground 
 — that soon, very soon, they would find out their danger, but 
 perhaps when it was too late. 
 
 Long will that meeting be remembered by preacher and 
 people ; by saints and sinners. Again and again, in my rov- 
 ing life, have I met persons, years afterwards, who told me 
 that they were in that ga}^ party of revellers on that holy 
 Sabbath evening, but that it was their last. Before I left 
 the ground more than one brother in Christ, and others after- 
 wards, told me they thanked me from their hearts for that 
 picture, that the Holy Spirit had blessed the efl'ort, and they 
 believed some souls were saved by the help of the Lord. 
 
 No room for mirth or trifling here, 
 For worldly hope or wordly fear, 
 
 If life so soon is gone ; 
 If now the Judge is at the door, 
 And all mankind must stand before 
 
 The inexorable throne. 
 
 No matter which my thoughts employ, 
 A moment's misery or joy, 
 
 But oh ! when both shall end. 
 Where shall I find my destined place ? 
 Shall I my everlasting days 
 
 With fiends or angels spend ? 
 
 ♦ 
 
LEAF THE SEVENTEENTH. 
 
 MY FIRST TO PLEASANT GROVE CAMP GROUND, NORTH CARO- 
 LINA, WHERE TV\'0 LONG LETTERS ON CONTROVERSY WERE 
 ANSWERED. 
 
 Many years ai^o, I received a long letter from a gentleman 
 of standing, and of much intelligence, who belonged to an- 
 other church, and who left no stone unturned in trying to 
 persuade me to enter into a controversy with him. The 
 writer expressed a strong wish to break a lance with me, 
 even if he should be unhorsed — of Vv^hich, merely to flatter 
 the parson, he professed there might be some danger. He 
 entered at length into some of the disputed points be- 
 tween us. 
 
 Some time after, I received another, if possible, longer 
 than the first, with a request endorsed, that it should be 
 read as soon as received, no matter what I might be doing, 
 I got it at Binnakers camp-ground, when my mind was 
 filled with other thoughts ; but still the very lengthy letter 
 was read at once. 
 
 Some time after this, I attended the camp-meeting at 
 Pleasant Grove, with Brother M., whom I met at Camden. 
 Of all the camp grounds I have ever been to, Pleasant Grove 
 ranks next to the famous Rock Springs. I saw several 
 thousands of strange faces before me. I was introduced to 
 many persons, and received a great man}" invitations of a 
 social character. I looked, and gazed, and wondered where 
 all these people came from, and if the most of them were in 
 the church or not. I saw much less of fashion and display 
 there, than I have seen anywhere else in all my roving life. 
 The congregation, though large at first, still continued to in- 
 crease as the meeting progressed. 
 
 If I remember rightly, the meeting was a good one from be- 
 ginning to end. The prayers at the tents were plain, strong, 
 and fervent. The Strange Preacher missed much his famous 
 low-country dinner ; but of course kept his thoughts to him- 
 
A HOPELESS CASE. 105 
 
 self. When Brother M. preached, he was the right man in 
 the right place. Did you ever hear him ? You say, " no." 
 Then there is a great treat in store for you, I hope. Take 
 my advice, and embrace the first chance you have. When 
 you have heard him once, I know you will wish to do so as 
 often as possible. He fired off one of his " biggest guns," 
 and by the help of the Spirit, there was much execution 
 done — there was soon a fine work going on among mourners, 
 backsliders, sinners. Christians, and all. After the Strange 
 Preacher left the stand, where he had enjoyed himself very 
 much, he said to himself, " JSTow is the best time I will ever 
 have to answer those long letters on controversy." He had 
 a notion in his head, that he could do it after such a fashion 
 as never to be troubled with such tremendous, lengthy 
 epistles from that same person in all his future life. So the 
 parson, when he got to the tent, sat down to reply to those 
 lengthy letters. He wrote with much affection, for he loved 
 his friend dearly. His letter was dated, " Pleasant G-rove 
 Camp-ground, Xorth Carolina ; Three Hundred and Twenty- 
 one (321) Tents on the ground, all told." He said, he was 
 then enjoying himself very much; that Brother M. had just 
 preached one of his best sermons, which made a tremendous 
 impression on the congregation ; that he had thought of and 
 prayed often on the subject, and had at last come to the con- 
 clusion, that it would do no good, and might do some harm, 
 for them to controvert the points of difference between them j 
 that he had no thought of ever changing his correspondent's 
 mind ; and that he himself expected to live and die where he 
 then was, in the church of his choice. And he hoped, if the 
 Lord spared his life, to come again to Pleasant Grove, where 
 there were "three hundred and twenty-one tents on the 
 ground, all told; and to hear Brother M. preach another 
 good sermon." 
 
 I never got any more lengthy epistles from the same per- 
 son; but understood, some months afterwards, that the 
 Doctor said, he would never write to me again on the sub- 
 ject, as he regarded it a hopeless case ; for the last time he 
 heard from the parson, he was at Pleasant Grove camp- 
 meeting, North Carolina, three hundred and twenty-one 
 7 
 
lOG STIJAY I.EAVFiS. 
 
 touts on the p^round, ull told ; and that Brother M. had just 
 jireached a trenieiidous sermon ; and he was then enjoying 
 himself very niucli. 
 
 T liad ahvady tried to preach ; but I suspect it was a poor 
 affair when com})ared with Brother M.'s sermon. Ab it was 
 my tirst visit to that phvce, it took me some time to get used 
 to wliat I heard and saw around me. ^My voice, not strong 
 at best, could not be heard by that vast croAvd, unless T 
 spoke much louder than usual. 1 was again called on to 
 preach, Brother M. cautioning me to speak much louder ; for 
 it was thought that at least two thousand of those present 
 before had not heard one word of what I said ; and he 
 wished very much that all should hear. So he recommended 
 a plan which he thought would answer — he would stand on 
 the outer edge of the congregation, and if he could not hear, 
 he would shake his head ; and if otherwise, he would nod or 
 smile. The hour arrived, and a vast crowd was present — 
 between six and seven thousand. Brother M. was among 
 the extreme outsiders, some of whom, by their glances, 
 seemed to say, " "What are you doing here ? Your place is 
 in the altar." I began to read the hymn ; Brother M. shook 
 his head. I tried to elevate m}' voice while reading the first 
 few verses ; but he continued to shake his head. I then 
 made a still greater effort ; he smiled and nodded — all was 
 right. After prayer, I gave out the second hymn ; he 
 smiled again. I then began my sermon; he nodded, and 
 then came back to the altar. I w^ent on, straining my voice 
 very much ; but was heard by the many thousands. The 
 meeting closed ; and as well as I can remember at this dis- 
 tant day, there were a great many convictions and con- 
 versions, and several scores joined the church. Brother 
 Talley told me before we left, that at the tent in which he 
 dined, after my second sermon, a brother said to him, " We 
 have got a name for our boy at last ; for though he is several 
 years old, we could not heretofore agree about a name ; but 
 while we we w^ere coming from the stand, I asked my wife 
 how she would like to call him after the Strange Preacher ; 
 and she replied, that she could not be better pleased ;" and 
 so the boy w^as named Lucius Bellinger D . 
 
LEAF THE EIGHTEENTH. 
 
 CAMP-MEETINGS IN GEORGIA. 
 
 1 have been to several meetings in the Empire State of the 
 vSouth a long time ago. The first one I attended I think 
 Avas called, Hill's camp ground, in Wilkes county, I had 
 a letter of introduction to the presiding elder, the pres- 
 ent Bishop Pierce ; and from that day to the present I have 
 felt glad that I formed the acquaintance of that distinguished 
 preacher. I had heard much of him as one of the most elo- 
 quent ministers of our church, and my expectations, high as 
 they were, were fully realized. He treated me with much 
 respect, and showed me every attention, which made me feel 
 quite at home while there. It has been so many years since 
 I was with him at those Georgia meetings that many things 
 of interest have been forgotten — my memory being my only 
 reference book. I met while there a Brother Martin, a 
 member of the Conference, and a man of winning manners 
 and address. He made a favorable impression on my mind. 
 I also had the pleasure of forming the acquaintance of a 
 Brother Duncan, who was called the sweet singer of Georgia, 
 a very useful, and a very successful minister. There was also 
 Dr. Pendleton, whose health would not permit of his preach- 
 ing often ; but who, having the respect and confidence of 
 both the church and the world, did much good in pushing 
 on the work of grace, and advancing the Saviour's kingdom. 
 I am very happy to number him among my Georgia friends. 
 He was gentle and kind, full of faith and hope, and love : 
 always ready to weep with those who wept, and to rejoice 
 with those who rejoiced. Brother Pierce was the great 
 object of attraction, but still he would have all to do their full 
 share of work. Because of his kindness and friendliness I 
 have felt more at home with him than with any other of our 
 great preachers, without exception, whom I have seen in my 
 roving life. I also met Brothers Lewis and Branham, both 
 whole-souled, devoted, thorough-going men of God, and much 
 
108 STllAV LEAVES. 
 
 loved by the church. They are brave Hohlicrs of* the cross — 
 heroes of many immortal battle fields. All hail to tlie preach- 
 ers of the Georgia Conference whom I then met. 
 
 The next meeting I attended was the Hancock camp- 
 ground, near Sparta. Previous to my visit there I spent 
 some time with Bishop Pierce, at his home near by that 
 place, and was kindly treated by his amiable wife. How 
 pleasantly the hours rolled by ! Having rested, we set of!* 
 again to endeavor to push forward the victory of the Cross, 
 and to save immortal souls. Dr. P. labored here, both in the 
 pulpit and altar, to win souls for the Lord. I think I have 
 never heard him preach without losing all control of my feel- 
 ings, and felt like shouting, whether the devil, or the world, 
 or lukewarm Christians were pleased or not. Each time I 
 hoard him I thought the last sermon better than the pre- 
 ceding one. The Holy Spirit was wonderfully poured out. 
 The powers of hell mustered strong for the battle, filled with 
 rage and fury ; but the the powers of light rallied to the sup- 
 port of the Lord's people, and the camp of Israel moved on 
 in glorious triumph, from one service to another, driving the 
 routed foe from every strong post, till the blessed flag of 
 Calvary waved victoriously over the entire battle field. It 
 did not matter who preached, the good work continued to 
 revive. Many mourners crowded the altar, and many were 
 made to rejoice in their Saviour's love. 
 
 There was a respectable gentleman of wealth and position 
 on the ground — one of the chief men of the county, his fam- 
 ily all members of the church — in whom the preachers seemed 
 deeply interested ; but there appeared little hope of his ever 
 beino- convicted and converted. He had a son who was then 
 preaching, and who afterwards rose to a high position in the 
 Conference. His eldest son, a worthy member of the church, 
 with tears in his eyes, told me how anxious he was to see 
 his much loved father a member of the church — that as to 
 his morals he was a good man, and did everything he could 
 to add to the happiness of his family. While listening, I 
 became much affected, and, as usual with me in such a case, 
 began to praj^ for him. I encouraged the young man not to 
 give up, but to pray for and expect his father's conversion. 
 
THE YOUNG SCOFFER. 109 
 
 Brother Pendleton, I think it was, told me that the old gen- 
 tleman had taken quite a fancy to me, and that he thought I 
 could influence him, if I would go out and speak to him in 
 the congregation. As soon as they would begin to sing he 
 would always leave the stand, and when I was going toward 
 him he would start for the tent. I said to myself, "the next 
 service I will be in time." Dr. Pierce preached the next ser- 
 mon, and we had a glorious season. Before singing began I 
 started, praying as I went for the old gentleman, and when 
 I reached him, he had his hat in his hand, just ready to leave. 
 I begged him to let us pray for him. He bowed at his seat. 
 How his children, his friends, and the church rejoiced! He 
 was much affected ; his heart was fully reached ; he was 
 made, by grace, to dread the wrath to come, and the anger 
 of a sin-avenging God. I can even now see the happy smil-e 
 on the face of his eldest son, whei). he beheld his much loved 
 father so much interested in his soul's salvation, and trying 
 to close in with the offers of mercy. I was after this, at the 
 tent of Brother S., and he asked me to go into the room where 
 his father was, and talk to him ; and I went in and prayed for 
 him. My faith was strong, and I came out and told his son he 
 would soon see the old man in the church. 
 
 I was trying to preach to a large congregation, and hoped 
 for a greater revival. When about half through my sermon, 
 I saw a young man sitting at the root of a tree, in the outer 
 circle of the congregation, who was laughing in my face ; 
 and whenever I looked at him I became so much disturbed 
 that I would not turn that way some time. When I did look 
 again, he was still laughing. It sometimes seems to me, so 
 to speak, that my faith is almost dead — hardly breathing — 
 so :Q^int, so weak is my trust in my blessed Saviour, at such 
 times, that it might be said that a child of the Lord, whose 
 trust is firmly fixed on the blessed Eock, of only one week 
 old, has at that moment a stronger faith than the Strange 
 Preacher. I feel sorry when I think of this, but so it is. At 
 times I remain thus for several days ; but after awhile my 
 trust in the Lord begins to rise by slow degrees, and, at 
 some times, very suddenly, until it becomes so strong that 
 it takes firm hold on the horns of the altar, and will not let 
 
110 STKAY LEAVES. 
 
 f^o until tho request is granted, and tlie desire of my heart is 
 found. I have often thus claimed a promise, believing it 
 would be granted. "According to thy faith so be it." "All 
 things are possible to him that believeth." Is not this the 
 doctrine taught in the blessed book? I have often prayed 
 to the Lord that some particular persons might embrace the 
 faith, and several times the request has been granted.* The 
 young man still kept on laughing. At last I stopped and 
 pointed him out to the congregation, and thus addressed 
 him: "Young man, you have been disturbing me very 
 much ; mark what I sa}^ to you. You are laughing now ; 
 but, with the help of the Lord, I am going to have you in 
 the altar begging for mercy. Before the services end you 
 will be here on your knees. Stay away if you can ; remem- 
 l)er — forewarned, forearmed." I called on the church to help 
 by their prayer. I suspect the crowd thought there ivas a 
 a strange preacher before them, surely. Perhaps there were 
 few Methodists present who believed those words would 
 come to pass, but the preacher did. And if he had never 
 found it out before, he would have gone to the judgment seat 
 believing it would be made known, that he had spoken the 
 truth. 
 
 I preached on with my faith firmly fixed .on the strength 
 of Israel — the Jehovah of Abraham, of Isaac and of Jacob. 
 The power of the Highest descended upon the congregation. 
 The shout of a king was heard in the camp of Israel. The 
 banner of redemption w^aved gloriously over the host of the 
 Lord. When singing began, mourners came up in great 
 crowds, and the shouts of the Lord's people rang out, and 
 the cries of the weeping penitents were heard all around. 
 My soul exulted in the Lord, my Strength and my Eedeemer. 
 Many were happily converted, and the entire congregation 
 seemed under the influence of the Holy Spirit. Prayer after 
 
 *I was once at a meeting in Sumter District, South Carolina, where a 
 j'oung man was acting very much like the one above. I stopped and 
 pointed him out, and called on the preachers to witness what I said. I 
 told them that same young man would, in a few weeks at most, come and 
 ask an interest in their prayers — that my faith was strong enough to be. 
 lieve it. In the course of the day he came up to the altar. 
 
A GREAT FIRE BURNING. Ill 
 
 prayer was offered np ; one holy song followed another up 
 the hills of heaven, and entered into the presence of the 
 Eternal. The preachers, exhorters, and leaders were at work 
 everywhere — all w^ere at work at their post, helping on the 
 cause of their Master, comforting, exhorting and encouraging. 
 On and still on the army of Prince Immanuel pressed the 
 routed foe ; hell was flying ; heaven was pursuing ; angels 
 were rejoicing, while devils were howling for the loss of their 
 victims. Preachers were clapping their hands and shouting; 
 pious sisters were rejoicing with young ladies lately con- 
 verted, who were telling them what the Lord had done for 
 them in the forgiveness of their sins. Hardened sinners had 
 been subdued, and were coming to the altar, or bowing at 
 their seats. Many young converts were passing through the 
 throng, hunting their friends and bringing them to the Lord. 
 On, and still on, went the blessed meeting. The Strange 
 Preacher was seen every where, as many of his friends on the 
 old AValterboro circuit have often seen him. IS^ow he was 
 shaking hands, and then talking to the mourners; now^ 
 kneeling before sinners, begging them to give their hearts to 
 the Lord, and now passing through the crowd, clapping his 
 hands, and calling out aloud, " Farewell world, I am bound 
 for the kingdom." Now he was at the outskirts of the congre- 
 gation, praying for some whom he found bowed at their 
 seats, and now coming back to the altar, saying — 
 
 " I want to live a Christian here, 
 I want to die a shouting, 
 I want to see bright angels stand, 
 And waiting to receive me, 
 To bear my soul to Canaan's land. 
 
 On went the holy work, and among the many who found 
 their Saviour was a young brother of Dr. Pierce, who after- 
 wards became a member of the Georgia Conference. The 
 night was passing away, but still the meeting was kept up ; 
 the 'mourners were so many, that it was difficult to pass 
 among them. The preachers still continued in their holy 
 work; sinners were still being convicted. At last, one of 
 the preachers said to me, that one of the young men at the 
 
112 STKAY T.EAVES. 
 
 altar wanted to sec mo. Tlie crowd was so ^rcat, it was 
 some time before we got there. There was a young man, 
 lying on his back, clapping his hands and shQuting, happy in 
 his Saviour's love. He was in a constant motion. " Mr. 
 Bellinger," said he, " I want to see you. I am the same 
 young man who was seated at the tree, whom you said you 
 would have at the altar before the services closed. I did not 
 then believe it would be so ; but you have got me here now ; 
 and I'm glad that I came." lie then took me by the hand, 
 pulled me down, and threw his arms around my neck. O, 
 how we rejoiced together ! I think it was Brother Pierce 
 who said to me, with a smile I can never forget, " That will 
 be something, Brother B., for you to tell your friends when 
 you go home." O, my blessed Saviour ! even now, at this 
 hour, I thank thee, as I have often done before, for the 
 happy moment that proved the truth of w^hat thy humble 
 servant had proclaimed. O, glory to the Lord ! that I once, 
 in my roving life, was at the Hancock camp-ground, and 
 enjoyed myself so much, and was treated so kindly by the 
 friends I found there. I have always regarded it as one of 
 the best meetings I have ever attended ; and I hope I will 
 never forget those olden days of immortal remembrance. 
 
 One day, Br. Pierce said, he wanted me to preach at such 
 an hour ; and that he had something to tell me, w^hich he 
 thought I ought to know. He then told me, there were 
 several young ladies and gentlemen, from a certain town in 
 the State, who had been making sport of me ; and who pro- 
 fessed to be much amused at my singular manner of preach- 
 ing. They said I made them laugh every now and then ; 
 that I would sometimes repeat a beautiful piece of poetry, 
 which they enjoyed very much ; but they said they could 
 not hear all the words, so they were going to come near the 
 altar the next time, that they might hear every word — they 
 expected to be much amused. He told me, the preachers 
 would pray for me ; and he hoped these hard hearts might 
 be reached. Brother Pendleton told me the same thing. I 
 went to the woods, to implore divine aid, and to pray 
 earnestly for those particular persons. I have known for a 
 long time, that many persons seem to be much amused at 
 
THE PARTY OF FASHIONABLES. 113 
 
 my manner, and say they cannot help laughing at me. I 
 know I have a very singular manner ; but it is all natural 
 with me — nothing forced, nothing borrowed. I never say a 
 word with the wish that people should laugh ; and I must 
 confess, that I am at times much surprised to see them thus 
 affected. I feel thankful to the Lord, that I have sometimes 
 seen those who had been thus excited to mirth, afterwards 
 weeping as if some loved one had gone. 
 
 The hour of trial, of hope, and of fear to the preacher had 
 come. The service began ; and the persons alluded to were 
 present, sitting very near the altar. The parson was aware 
 of their presence — a hint had been given to him. He looked 
 at them ; every face seemed to say, " We are expecting quite 
 a farce; we will be much amused." He gave out his text, 
 and began to preach ; and then looked towards the gay 
 
 group from the town of W . The gentlemen were smiling, 
 
 and looked as if they expected to laugh soon ; and the ladies 
 had their fans to their faces, and were evidently much amused. 
 The preacher went on after his own fashion, and asked the 
 prayers of the church — not looking at them again for some 
 time. After a while, he ventured to turn his eyes that way 
 again. The same expression was still on each face, and it re- 
 minded him of persons in a theatre, who were enjoying very 
 much what was passing before them. The preacher was 
 quite disturbed, but went on, hoping the Lord would be 
 w^ith him ; and he trusted that many were praying for him. 
 He became much encouraged — giving his fears to the wind, 
 and unfurling his flag fearlessly, and looking iiloft to the 
 hills from whence his help came. He then turned once 
 more to that fashionable party, and had much cause for 
 gratitude; for a great change had come over that group. 
 He now saw grave, serious persons before him, who were 
 listening very respectfully. There was one face more serious 
 than the others ; and he hoped tears would soon be seen 
 falling from those lovely eyes. Becoming still more en- 
 couraged, he went on with his sermon, at the close of which 
 many mourners came to the altar ; and among the young 
 ladies bowed humbly before the Lord, was one who belonged 
 to that laughing group, which had anticipated so much fun 
 
114 STRAY I.EAVKS. 
 
 mIumi tliov eamc so near as not to lose a word. If the whole 
 truth wa^ known, I suspect that part}' of iiishionables from 
 
 AV , felt that a great change had come over the spirit of 
 
 their dream. If the tempter had known what was going to 
 }ia])peii, he would have ])ersuaded them, if possiljle, not to 
 go so near the altar. J would not be surprised if some of 
 them, if yet alive, still remember that scene. That young 
 lady was so much affected that she could not walk alone ; 
 but had to be assisted to one of the tents. 
 
 During the evening, I was at Brother 8.'s tent, to wliich 
 that young lady had been taken ; and there she was after- 
 wards happily converted. That hay^py young convert had 
 come with an aunt, who professed to be much hurt at what 
 had happened. She was very angry with her neice for having 
 gone to that Methodist altar, and knelt down to be prayed 
 lor on the straw. It was too bad ; and she regretted having 
 come. She resolved to carry her neice home at once ; for it 
 Avas mortifying to think she was convicted among those 
 shouting ]\Iethodists. And then, the greatest offence of all 
 was, that she went to the altar after that singular preacher 
 had called up mourners — the very man, too, of whom they had 
 made such sport ! It was too bad ! The party left. The 
 aunt took her neice away; but not till she Avas made happy 
 in her Saviour's love, and rejoiced in the hope of heaven. 
 
 The glorious meeting still went on ; and Brother S., at 
 last, had his long-pray ed-for wish granted — his father be- 
 came a member of the church ; but he had not yet found his 
 Saviour in the forgiveness of his sins, though he was deeply 
 in earnest resolved to seek him to the last. 
 
 Some distressing news Avas brought by some persons re- 
 turning to night-meeting, from the party Avho had left for 
 
 AV . It seems, that after the aunt left Avith her neice, 
 
 she began to scold and abuse her for Avhat had happened; 
 and said, she Avas so enraged, that she never expected to for- 
 get it. The 3'oung lady took it all very mildly ; but the 
 aunt finally became so angry, that she requested some of 
 the party to let her neice ride Avith them. The exchange 
 Avas made, and the aunt rode on alone; when, soon after, 
 her horses took fright and ran off. The carriage was broken, 
 
A HAPPY DELIVERANCE. 115 
 
 and she was thrown out, and so hurt as to be insensible. 
 8ome -persons passing by, saw her friends trying to restore 
 her, and were told how it had happened. What sad news ! 
 What a happy deliverance to the happy young convert ! 
 Surely the Lord watcheth over his childre^. 
 
 The blessed meeting was closed at the camp-ground, to be 
 continued at Sparta. I went home with Brother S.'s father, 
 to stay a day or so with him, and then go to another meet- 
 ing, at Dr. Pierce's request. The old gentleman was much 
 distressed. I prayed for, and tried to encourage, him ; but 
 he seemed to fear that his day of grace was gone for ever ; 
 and he told me he thought he had committed the unpardon- 
 able sin. I was very sorry for him ; but told him I expected, 
 after I left, to hear he had found the Lord. We were sitting 
 at dinner, when he got up in great agony of mind, and went 
 weeping into another room. After praying with him again, 
 and telling him I exjDected soon to hear he had found the 
 pearl of great price, I left him, and went on my way. On 
 Monday, Dr. P. came down, and told me they had had glo- 
 rious times in Sparta ; and that the old gentleman had been 
 powerfully converted in love-feast, on Sunday, and had re- 
 quested him to tell me the good news. To the Lord alone 
 be all the glory. 
 
LEAF THE NINETEENTH. 
 
 MEETINGS AT OLD SPRINOTOWN ; OR, THE TREACHER WHO, 
 WHILE WORKING TOR OTHERS, ENJOYED HIMSELF VERY 
 MUCH. 
 
 Perhaps more than sixty years ago, there w^as a famous 
 place of summer resort for many families from the low- 
 country, a few miles from Odum's bridge on the Salka- 
 hatchie, called Springtown, which I suppose gave name to 
 the surrounding neighborhood, and to a church of our 
 Baptist brethren, with which my first recollections of the 
 preaching of the gospel are connected. It is the most 
 beautiful place for a church, that I now remember ever 
 having seen. The thoughts of my boyhood were asso- 
 ciated with Springtown ; and now, in the decline of life, 
 they still linger around the old place. I went there oftener 
 than anywhere else, until I left the camps of sin, and started 
 for a better world. All hail! to the old church, and the 
 happy hours I spent there in the olden time. For years, I 
 generally fastened my horse to the same tree ; and often sat 
 on the same bench, near one of the posts behind which I 
 would hide my face w^hen I did not wish the preacher to 
 see me. 
 
 I remember the Eev. Mr. Duncan well. I see him now, 
 as I used to see him more than forty years ago. I some- 
 times found his eyes fastened on me with a marked expres- 
 sion. I have more than once got behind that post, while he, 
 with earnest voice, was entreating sinners to flee the wrath 
 to come. It was Brother Duncan, who more than once, as 
 I have elsewhere mentioned, said he believed I would have 
 to preach, and that he would live to hear me. And so it 
 came to pass ; though I had been preaching many years 
 before he heard me. He asked me, with strong emotion, if 
 I had forgotten what he used to tell me ? AYith tears almost 
 falling from my eyes, I told him I had not. 
 
 In the olden days, Springtown was a famous place for a 
 
WHO WERE TO BE FOUND THERE. 117 
 
 largo turn-out, and many came there from a distance. All 
 classes met there, from the diiferent ranks of society in 
 Barnwell District. The grave, the sedate, and the pious were 
 there ; those who were seeking the salvation of their souls, 
 who were wounded by the shafts of the Spirit, and who 
 were mourning the love of the Lord to know, were there ; 
 those who had once tasted that the Lord was precious, who 
 had been valiant for the truth, who had endured hardness 
 as good soldiers of the cross, who ran well for a while, but, 
 alas! had now gone back to the world, and the brethren 
 with sorrow of heart had dismissed them from their commu- 
 nion, were there — some of them were trying to find again 
 the good old paths, that they might walk in them to the 
 joy of their hearts ; others of them were even more careless, 
 more hardened in sin than ever before. Gray, careless, 
 wicked young men were there, w^ho made sport of holy 
 things, and said plainly, by their actions, " as for the man, 
 Christ Jesus, he shall not rule over us." Beautiful ladies 
 were there, who loved the fashions and pleasures of this life 
 much more than they did the blessed Saviour of the world 
 and his church. Some were there, who with care read the 
 holy Book by day and night, and who prized it far above 
 all the books of this world ; while others were there who 
 scarcely ever opened the holy Bible, had no desire to read 
 its inspired pages, and who professed not to believe its sacred 
 truths. Children of poverty and sorrow were there, whose 
 parents were compelled to labor for their daily bread. Boys 
 and girls were there, living in the enjoyment of every earthly 
 blessing, having no wish ungratified. Husbands and wives 
 were there, who were living happy in the possession of wed- 
 ded love, which, we are told, " is the only bliss that escaped 
 the fall." Husbands and wives were there, whose love did 
 not long survive the days of their courtship, and whose 
 hearts were now separated from each other. Happy lovers 
 were there, with the day of their espousals near at hand, 
 mutually longing for that hour which would make them one 
 for life. Others were there, who had once rejoiced in each 
 other's love, but were now divided in feeling as far as the 
 east is from the west. Young men were there, the pride 
 
118 . STRAY I.PLVVKS. 
 
 and deli<j;ht of all who knew them — the hope, theMefence^^of 
 their country. Young men were there, the shame, tho 
 sorrow of their rohitives, for they feared not the Lord, nor 
 roi^ardcd man. 
 
 And Springtown luid another famous place of resort for all 
 kinds of spectators — Odum's bridge, the public place for 
 baptizing those who had left the world, and had come out 
 on the side of the Lord. Imagine yourself there on some 
 holy Sabbath, when a large crowd had collected, to witness 
 a baptism by immersion. Let us stand on the bridge, with 
 the waiting throng. Be careful that you do not lean too 
 much against the railing ; there may be some danger, for 
 others are leaning against it as well as yourself. Xow, 
 before the preacher enters the water, with those standing 
 near him dressed in white, with serious faces and downcast 
 eyes — thinking, I hope, of the white robes and the palms of 
 victory on the other^side of the flood, in the green fields of 
 Eden — let us overlook the general crowd, both on the bridge 
 and on each side of the creek, in carriages, buggies, and gigs ; 
 on horses and on foot. Do you think all those in that crowd 
 are thinking on religious subjects ? If you do you are greatly 
 mistaken. Look again ; do you not see several persons 
 laughing and talking ; paying no more respect to the solemn 
 sight before them than they do to the preaching of the gos- 
 pel in the house of the Lord. Some are there who do not 
 wish to see the work of the Lord reviving, and sinners re- 
 turning from the error of their waj^s, but would prefer that 
 Zion should languish and iniquity abound. Many a gay and 
 trifling son and daughter of fashion is in that throng, sport- 
 ing with the golden moments of this short life, at the risk of 
 the loss of their immortal souls. What do they care about 
 religion, or the church, or the Saviour of men ? They say, 
 they are as good as the}' wish to be, that there is no use in 
 talking so much of coming out on the Lord's side, and start- 
 ing for heaven. Others are present whose hearts are full of 
 Avicked thoughts — anger, euv}', and revenge possess their 
 entire hearts. 
 
 But now look at the other side of the picture ; there arc 
 many beautiful sights to be seen, at which angels and holy 
 
A PICTURE OF THE CONGREGATION. 119 
 
 spirits lox^e to look. Kotice that aged man and the woman 
 at his side ; their eyes are filled with tears ; and they, per- 
 haps, are thinking of the time long gone by, when they were 
 first made to dread the wrath to come ; when after drinking 
 the wormwood and the gall, they at last passed from death 
 unto life, and were in that very stream baptized in the Lord. 
 They feel very thankful for the grace that has brought them 
 safe thus far, and hope to be in a better world. Look at 
 those young ladies, with tears streaming from their eyes ; 
 they are sorry they have not yet found the pearl of great 
 price, and are praying now that they may soon be ready to 
 give their hearts to the Saviour, and their hands to the 
 church. Notice those young men near the centre of the 
 bridge, who look so serious, so sad. The blessed Spirit is at 
 work in their hearts — reproving them ''of sin, of rightous- 
 ness, and of a judgment to come." How the tears fall troiv 
 their eyes into the water that flows beneath them. Devils 
 are disappointed, while angels are rejoicing ; for those young 
 men will soon embrace the faith, following their Saviour and 
 the example set before them. Perhaps one of them, in years 
 to come, will preach the blessed gospel. Observe that strong 
 man mounted on that fine horse near the water : he is much 
 distressed, for he once loved the Saviour, but has gone back 
 to the world ; the sight before him reminds him of all he has 
 lost ; and he is now resolved to return to the blessed Shep- 
 herd. See that man on your left, dressed in deep mourning, 
 with crape on his hat and arm; now his face is cast down ; 
 now his eyes arc lifted to heaven. He seems to notice very 
 little of what is going on around him. He has lately lost his 
 much loved wife — the mother of that little boy at his side. 
 When she kissed him the last time he promised her to meet 
 her in heaven ; and he is trying to keep his word. He has 
 been up more than once for the prayers of the church. 
 
 But let us stop looking about now^, for the solemn service 
 has begun. Listen to that holy song. Xow the minister 
 with those around him enter the stream; and one by one 
 they are baptized in the name of the Lord of hosts. We will 
 leave the place now and return to the church, hoping the 
 Lord will save us all in his heavenly kingdom. 
 
120 bTKAY J.EAVES. 
 
 Before 1 tell 3'()ii of Honie of those good nieetingHHliey used 
 to have there in oklen times, let me tell you of Home of the 
 old members of the church. Clone by one of the windows, 
 not far from the ]>iilpit, is an aged man, trembling beneath 
 the weight of many years. He is quite deaf, and you have 
 to speak very loud to him. lie loves the church, and has 
 ])een a long time traveling the road to heaven. That is Bro- 
 ther Daniel Odum. That man Avho sits not far off, and who 
 looks like him, is his son. Captain Odum is one of the old 
 members Avhose faith is firmly fixed on the Kock of Ages. 
 See that man in front of the pulpit with a serious, grave face, 
 and with his eyes fixed on the preacher as if he w^ished to 
 hear every w^ord ; and near by you will see a man who re- 
 sembles him much, and who, if possible, pays more attention 
 to the sermon — bending slightly forward, with his large eyes 
 opened wide. Those are two brothers, by the name of Eice, 
 good men and true. See that thin, spare man, with a modest, 
 quiet face, sitting near the end of that bench ; that is Brother 
 P. S. These, with many others, worshipped the Holy One 
 of Israel at the memorable Springtown church, where I often 
 went when quite a young man. After I joined the church, 
 of course I did not go as frequently as before ; but I did so 
 once in awhile, for the sake of -'auld lang syne." In after 
 years, when I had been called to the ministry, I was some- 
 times requested to preach there. I have been to many good 
 meetings there since I started for heaven. 
 
 I was there once on the holy Sabbath, and was in the pul- 
 pit, w^hen I unfortunately threw down the Bible, which, 
 being a large one, got quite a heavy fall. I was much con- 
 fused — hardly knowing what to do.* 1 sat down much dis- 
 tressed; but a good Brother, John Odum, whom I expect is 
 
 ^I was once present at a Methodist meeting of some interest, where I 
 was to exhort after the sermon ; and when I rose, by some unlucky move 
 of my hand, I turned over a tumbler of water into a friend's hat. I at 
 once sat down; for some time much confused. There was a brother 
 present who had witnessed the fall of the Bible, and who observed after- 
 wards that he said to himself, Brother B. will not say another word, or 
 else will give us one of his Springtown efforts again. After awhile I got up 
 and began to exhort, and by the aid of the Holy Spirit, made quite an 
 impression on the congregation. 
 
A GRACIOUS MEETING. 121 
 
 in heaven to-day, handed it to me. I arose at once, and after 
 thanking him, began, with the help of the Lord, to exhort ; 
 and with such eifect that some of the friends thought it was 
 done intentionally. But those who know me well, will be- 
 lieve me when tell them I only spoke on the impulse of the 
 moment. 
 
 I was once present at a blessed meeting at old Springtown, 
 with that pious and venerable minister of the Lord, Brother 
 Brooker, one of the good men of old, of strong faith, and full 
 of the Holy Ghost and of power, in whom saint and sinner 
 believed. The good old man and myself were alone for sev- 
 eral days. The members of the church seemed to rejoice in 
 the anticipation of the joys of heaven, when the warfare of 
 life is over. I generally preached, and he exhorted, and the 
 Strength of Israel was with us. I see him before me now, as 
 he stood in the olden days, full of zeal, and hope, and trust 
 in the Lord, and, with tears flowing down his aged face, told 
 us of the blessed hope he had, through grace, of one day get- 
 ting to heaven, where he hoped his old friends would gladly 
 welcome him, and where he expected to spend a happy eter- 
 nity in praising the Lord ; and as he turned to sinners and 
 implored them to flee the wrath to come. Then he would 
 sing a holy song, "and young and old would come up for 
 prayer, when some one would experience a change of heart ; 
 and then he would pass through the crowd, and shake hands 
 with the brethren — Odum, Eice, Matheny, and others — telling 
 us he hoped to meet us all in heaven by and bye. Thus, day 
 after day, I would preach, and he exhort, and the blessed 
 Spirit would descend. O 1 it was a holy, happy meeting. 
 
 I love to think of those glorious times at old Springtown. 
 " Some men never sell for what they are worth," while others 
 do for more ; that is, some persons are thought more of than 
 they deserve to be, while others never occupy their proper 
 position, and are not properly valued by the church and the 
 world. I have seen more than one member of our church 
 standing where I thought he ought not to be — the place 
 being either too high or too low. Now, the good Book tells 
 us, that the man who went up too high was made to des- 
 cend ; and the man who took the low seat was requested to 
 8 
 
122 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 go U]) higher. But in thene days, we Boe some persons are 
 permitted to fill positions too exalted for them ; and, strange 
 to say, instead of being made to come lower, they are allowed 
 to continue to climb still higher : while on the other hand, 
 you will see a man, who is thought much more of by the 
 Holy Spirit, yet is made during his laborious, useful life, to 
 sit in some humble, obscure place. But I think in eternity 
 another change will take place. I hope so, at least. And 
 many will be quite surprised, when they see many Metho- 
 dist and Baptist preachers, who never had LL.D., or D.D., 
 or P.E. attached to their names, filling a more exalted place 
 in heaven, and much more respected and esteemed by the 
 inhabitants of the better world than they were while here 
 upon earth. Now, in my mind, that good man, Brother 
 Brooker, never "sold for what he was worth;" he was per- 
 mitted to occupy too low a position. But that earnest and 
 zealous preacher has long since gone to the green fields of 
 Eden, on the other side of the flood, where I expect the 
 blessed spirits of glory respect him much more than the sons 
 of men did upon earth. He did not enter into the rest that 
 remains for the people of God as soon as he expected — as 
 soon as he hoped to ; but his haj^py soul has been for many 
 years rejoicing in the realms above, close by the eternal 
 throne. All hail ! departed brother ; thou hast fought the 
 good fight ; thou hast kept the faith ; thou hast finished thy 
 course. Thy warfare is over ; thou hast long since entered 
 into the joy of thy Lord. 
 
 I had had a two days' meeting at one of our chuiches, 
 which closed on Sunday evening ; and on Monday morning, 
 one of the neighbors asked me to come and help them at 
 Springtown, for they had been there two days without a 
 preacher, saying that Brother Dowling said, unless a minis- 
 ter came that day he would have to close the meeting. I 
 went, and was there alone for two days, when other brethren 
 came, and the meeting was kept up for nearly a fortnight. 
 It was a most glorious season of refreshing from the Lord. 
 When I first got there. Brother D. requested me to take 
 charge of the meeting, and conduct the service as 1 would 
 a Methodist meeting. The friends generally seemed pleased 
 
BAPTISTS AND METHODISTS WOKKING TOGETHER. 123 
 
 that I had come. I tried to labor as faithfully for them, as 
 if I had been in my own church. There was a great out- 
 pouring of the Spirit ; and the Strange Preacher enjoyed 
 that blessed meeting, and his soul exulted in the Holy One 
 of Israel. That was as good a meeting as I ever took part 
 in at that holy place. Brother D. came to me one da}', and 
 said, he wished, after I had finished preaching, to address 
 those present, and to advise them to pray for a deep'er work 
 of grace ; and then to invite all who felt like meeting me in 
 heaven to come and join their hands. O, my soul ! what a 
 crowd came up ! AYe wept and rejoiced together. Sinners 
 were then requested to kneel at their seats ; and every per- 
 son in the house bowed before the Lord. What a solemn 
 time ! We prayed together ; and then some sweet songs of 
 Zion were heard ; and the Strange Preacher clapped his 
 hands, and shouted, "Farewell, world! I am bound for the 
 kingdom." And Brothers D., and R., and K., and C, and 
 others, looked as if, were it the Lord's will, they were then 
 willing to leave this world, and go home to rest for ever- 
 more, on the other side of the flood, in the sweet fields of 
 Eden ; there was " rejoicing in the tabernacles of the righteous, 
 for the right hand of the Lord did valiantly." It seems that 
 I can even now feel the pressure of the hand of more than 
 one happy servant of the Lord, as I went among them, 
 praising the Lord, "for his goodness, and for his wonderful 
 works to the children of men." A stranger passing by, and 
 seeing how we were enjoying that gracious outpouring of 
 the Holy Spirit, might have said to himself, "this is a ver^^ 
 fine time our Methodist friends are having here." But it 
 was a Baptist meeting at Springtown in the olden days. 
 After a while Brother Sanders, the pastor, came and others 
 with him. The blessed work continued to increase in in- 
 terest ; the Lord was in his holy temple — " his stately steps 
 were heard amid the golden candlesticks." A7hat a beautiful 
 sight it must have been to the Great Head of the church, to 
 see his servants agreeing together in love, and tj^avelling 
 along side by side, to " Immanuel's land, where the waters 
 flow so sweetly ! " What pleasant prayer-meetings were 
 held in those days, before preaching ; and how the sweet 
 
124 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 songs, which Brother C. and others Hung, would help to en- 
 courage the heart of the minister, when he stood up to pro- 
 claim the gospel to a lost world ! 
 
 The meeting was well attended every day, and the interest 
 manifested continued to increase rather than abate. The 
 preacher was requested by his Baptist brethren to remain 
 with them to the end j for as the Lord had begun the good 
 work with him, they wished him to remain to the close. I 
 had to preach, and to leave them on Friday, to go to Bin- 
 nakers camp-meeting. What an affecting scene it was to 
 see the Strange Preacher parting with his friends on that 
 memorable evening ! Some of them said, as he was going to 
 leave, they would go too ; so they left their meeting, and 
 went with him. It closed on Sunday evening ; and many 
 concluded it was one of the best times they had ever had at 
 that church. 
 
 Many of the old heroes of Springtown have long since 
 gone home to that happy place, where the " wicked cease 
 from troubling, and the weary are at rest." They served 
 the Lord in their day and generation ; they held out faithful 
 to the end ; and they now rest from their labors in the para- 
 dise above. 
 
LEAF THE TWENTIETH. 
 
 "in union there is strength;" or, the two flags waving 
 together; or, judah and simeon together, with locked 
 
 SHfELDS, pressing THE BATTLE TO IHE GATE. 
 
 I have often said, I regarded it as a blessing, that there 
 were several branches of the one true church of our blessed 
 Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ ; for by this, I think, all men 
 are left without excuse. I have always, as thousands can 
 testify, told the people to join whatever branch they pre- 
 ferred ; and I have often felt very sorry that there was so 
 little love and good feeling, as there seems to be in some 
 places ; because of which, I am afraid, there has been untold 
 injury done to the cause of truth. I believe in every person 
 living in the church of one's choice ; but I think all children 
 of the Lord should comfort and strengthen each other in 
 their labors of love, and in advancing the kingdom of our 
 Lord upon earth. I know there are some persons, for I 
 have seen them at their low calling, whose whole hearts are 
 employed in proselyting. Never mind how contented a 
 man may be, some of these birds of evil omen will gather 
 around, and try to make him discontented where he has 
 long enjoyed himself.* And should they succeed in bringing 
 him over, they will wave flags, and blow trumpets, and pub- 
 lish it from the house-tops, that a great victory has been 
 won. I suspect angels are sorry, and devils glad, to see 
 such men at their foul work. 
 
 But, O, my soul ! what a beautiful sight it is, to see mem- 
 bers of the various churches helping at each other's meetings 
 to press the battle to the gate, by preaching, exhorting, and 
 praying together — making united efforts to advance their 
 Master's cause ! I believe, that in some places, one branch 
 of the church will do more good than another ; and think it is 
 the direct will of the Lord ; for in Judges i. 3, n is said, 
 ' Now, after the death of Joshua, it came to pass, that the 
 children of Israel asked the Lord, saying, who shall go up 
 
126 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 for us first uguiiist the Ciuuianitcs, first to fi/^ht afj;iiinst them? 
 And the Lord said, Judah shall go up ; behold, I have de- 
 livered the land into his hand. And Judah said unto Simeon, 
 his brother. Come up with me unto my lot, that we may 
 fight against the Canaanites ; and I likewise will go with 
 thee into thy lot. So Simeon went with him." Now, I 
 think there is more spiritual truth in that passage than most 
 persons suspect. 
 
 More than twenty-five years ago, one night just before 
 daylight, I was aroused from my slumbers with the glad 
 news that the Lord had favored his Zion, at Barnwell court- 
 house, with a most gracious revival — that the Baptists 
 and Methodists were united in the meeting, and that the 
 two flags were waving together; that Judah and Simeon, 
 with locked shields, were "pressing the battle to the gate." 
 Among the mourners were two of my nearest relatives ; and 
 I was requested to hasten to the help of the Lord against 
 the mighty. After finishing his task the evening before, a 
 faithful servant got a horse, and brought me the letter. He 
 could not be persuaded to remain till morning, but started 
 at once on his return. I could not sleep any more that 
 night, because of joy and expectation — joy for the glad news 
 I had heard, and strong hope and expectation of still greater 
 manifestations of power. I hastened on, and found there 
 a blessed state of things. It had begun in our church, and 
 the Baptist brethren had united heartily in the good work. 
 Brothers Townsend and Green, of our church, were on that 
 circuit at the time, and Brothers Duncan, Brown, and 
 Peoples, of the Baptist church, were with them. They had 
 their war harness on, while the banner of Calvary waved 
 over them. In some respects, that religious occasion ex- 
 celled all that I have ever seen in my roving life. I never 
 saw at any other place the two flags waving so fearlessly, 
 harmoniously together ; where Judah and Simeon fought so 
 gallantly, with locked shields, and bore down all opposition. 
 
 The meeting had been kept up alternately in each church ; 
 and I sul'peet, such times had never before been seen in the 
 place. While thinking of that blessed meeting, the battle of 
 Mount Tabor rises before me, with all its unfading glory, 
 
BROTHERS DUNCAN AND TOWNSEND. 127 
 
 with all its immortal surroundings — " that Zehulon and ^N'ap- 
 thali were a people that jeoparded their lives unto the death, 
 in the high places of the field. They fought from heaven ; 
 the stars in their course fought against Sisera." Brothers 
 Duncan and Townsend were the two great chiefs of Judah 
 and Simeon, who led the hosts of the Lord in that famous 
 passage of arms with -hell. The Holy Ghost was present, 
 reproving of sin, of righteousness, and of a judgment to 
 come ; sinners were convicted ; mourners were weeping ; and 
 Christians were rejoicing in the Lord, And angels carried 
 the glad news to heaven, that prodigals were coming home 
 to their father; while devils lamented the loss of their 
 victims. 
 
 My Baptist brethren, you who knew Brother Duncan, 
 twenty years ago, remember with what power he exhorted, 
 when the Holy Spirit was with him, and when he ha^i the 
 pleasure of seeing his relatives and friends seeking their 
 Saviour. And you, my Methodist brothers, who remember 
 Brother Joel Townsend, the good man and true, know what 
 a great man he was for protracted meetings, when the 
 Strength of Israel was with him. All hail ! to those veterans 
 of Prince Immanuel. 
 
 The meeting continued to increase in interest. Many har- 
 dened sinners trembled beneath the preached word, and, 
 throwing down the arms of their rebellion, fled to the Sa- 
 viour for mercy. Many precious souls were happily con- 
 verted, and " told to all around, what a dear Saviour they 
 had found ; " and the membership of both churches were 
 very much comforted, and were bravely coming up to the 
 help of the Lord. O ! how the Saviour and the happy saints 
 must have rejoiced, when they beheld those two flags waving 
 together — Judah and Simeon, with locked shields, charging 
 the powers of hell, and winning the hard-fought battle. What 
 gracious seasons of refreshing we had from the Lord of Hosts ! 
 "We had good congregations, particularly at night ; and they 
 were generally attentive and respectful ; and sometimes a 
 very strong impression would rest upon the entire throng. 
 At times, the prayer-meetings were honored by such dis- 
 plays of the Holy Ghost, that all who were there might well 
 
128 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 yay, wo are Hitting in heavenly places in Christ Jesus. How 
 much I enjoyed mysell' at that never-to-be-forgotten meeting! 
 I have thought, that those ^^ho pass through great revivals, 
 without embracing the terms of salvation, will be hard to be 
 impressed in after life, and may never forsake their sins ; 
 and that the gospel seldom reaches their hearts. I have 
 never been much surprised, that some persons who passed 
 through that revival without ex2:)eriencing a change, still 
 remain in the broad road to ruin. More than once during 
 the services, some persons were so deeply convicted, that 
 they seemed to have lost all power of motion, I remember 
 one day, when about leaving, some man was found lying be- 
 tween two benches, perfectly helpless. Some persons became 
 quite alarmed for him, as it was a sight they were not used 
 to. Brother Townsend, the old hero of the cross, who had 
 witnessed many such scenes, told them not to be frightened, 
 as he was under strong conviction, and it would yet be all 
 right with him. Nothing took him by surprise. 
 
 The meeting was carried on for several days, without the 
 door of the church being opened. But several had been con- 
 verted, and were waiting to join. So one night, we opened 
 the door to both churches : those wishing to unite with the 
 Baptist church were to give their hand to Brother Duncan ; 
 and those wanting to join our church were to go to Brother 
 Townsend. I thought this would be a scene on which angels 
 would love to dwell. When the moment arrived, there^was 
 much interest manifested, and the preachers took their stand, 
 to receive those who might come. We got four members, 
 but our Baptist brother got none ; and I was so sorry to see 
 it, that I could hardly refrain from weeping ; for I thought, 
 had it been otherwise, that our Saviour would have been 
 better pleased. But so it was, and I was quite sad. 
 
 The meeting continued for some time with unabated in- 
 terest, and many united with both branches ; and before the 
 final close more joined the Baptist, than the Methodist, 
 church. Praj^er-meetings were held in' private houses ; and 
 the whole place seemed under religious influence. Old Barn- 
 well has never had such a time of holy visitation, at least as 
 far as I remember. I suspect the fallen spirits more than 
 
THE IMMEKSION CONCERT. 129 
 
 once looked on astonished — more than once smote upon their 
 breasts, as they saw those two flags waving so gloriously to- 
 gether, while Judah an^ Simeon fought so gallantly together, 
 pressing the battle to the gate. 
 
 The holy Sabbath, the great day of the feast drew near. 
 The report of the revival had spread far and near ; and many 
 came from the country. What a memorable Sunday was 
 that ! The power of the Highest descended upon the church 
 and the world, and a deep impression rested upon all pre- 
 sent ; and the great work was still more enlarged. As those 
 who united with us- preferred to be immersed, we concluded 
 to baptize all together. 
 
 It was Monday morning, and a crowd had gathered at the 
 water side. It was sale day at Barnwell, which fact caused 
 it to be greater. What a sight for hell and heaven ! There 
 stood Brother Duncan, and those who were going with him ; 
 and there, too. Brother Townsend and his members. Look 
 at the throng, in carriages and buggies, on horseback and on 
 foot. See how crowded is the bridge. About the middle, 
 near the water's edge, holding on to the railing, seated down, 
 was seen the Strange Preacher, regarding, with much emo- 
 tion, all that passed around him. Among those now con- 
 fessing their Saviour to the world, are two very near to him 
 — the father with Brother D., and the son with Brother T. 
 The two preachers with their converts — the chiefs of Judah 
 and Simeon, entered the water side by side, and then separ- 
 ated, and formed two lines fronting each other. What a 
 moment of interest ! All were looking at the ministers and 
 those around them. Brother T. requested Brother D. to 
 begin ; but Brother D. wanted him to lead ; and then Bro- 
 ther T. baptized one, in the name of the Father, of the Son, 
 and of the Holy Ghost; and Brother D. said "Amen;" and 
 then Brother D. baptized one, and Brother T. responded 
 " Amen." And so the solemn services were conducted to 
 the close. Brother D. said to his own brother, as he took 
 his hand, " brother, my brother." And the father and son 
 now embraced each other in the water; and the Strange 
 Preacher could not bear that sight, but shouted out aloud, 
 and gave glory to the Highest. The benediction was pro- 
 nounced, and the crowd retired. 
 
130 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Aly friends, let nie try to draw unother picture for you. 
 I was once travelling alone, and had cros.sed nafely over a 
 deep, broad river, and was passing through a swamp on the 
 other side. It was a hot day; and the sun was shining very 
 brightly, when I came to a large field near the roadside, 
 filled with golden-headed wheat, ripe for the harvest. I 
 stopped, and said to myself, " What a picture ! Can I not 
 make use of it in my Master's cause? Suj^pose, this very 
 liot day, some few reapers were appointed to cut that wheat 
 down in an allotted time, which would soon transpire, and 
 were to be well rewarded by the owner when the work was 
 done." I said to myself, " they would not quarrel with each 
 other, but go regularly to work ; for the sooner that field is 
 reaped, the sooner would the resting time and the bounty 
 come." I said again to myself, " now, the world is a great 
 spiritual field, filled with immortal souls, ripe for the bar- 
 vest ; and the difterent branches of the one true church, and 
 all the preachers, have been appointed by the Master to 
 gather that great harvest field. Why should they dispjute 
 with each other — the world is large enough for them all to 
 work in, and win souls for their Master. The day of judg- 
 ment is hastening on, when we will have to stand before the 
 great Eternal; and, O! that the friends of the Saviour would 
 go to work to gather in that mighty harvest. If we are 
 faithful to the end, that blessed time of rest and of bounty 
 money will come at last ; and then, when the great field of 
 the world is reaped, the angels will sing the harvest home." 
 O ! friends of Jesus, in the one true church, in all the sin- 
 cerity of my heart, I entreat you to be more united in love 
 and friendship. We all serve the same Lord, and are all 
 bound for the same place. I believe, with all my soul, that 
 we would please our Saviour better, and would better ad- 
 vance his kingdom among men, if we were more strongly- 
 united in the bonds of Christian affection. 
 
 I think it is still remembered in heaven and hell, that 
 there was once a time, at Barnwell court-house, when the 
 two flags waved harmoniously together; and that Judah 
 and Simeon, with locked shields, pressed the battle to the 
 gate. 
 
LEAF THE TWEKTY-FIRST. 
 
 MEETINGS IN ALABAMA. 
 
 Well, my friends, let me tell you of some interesting meet- 
 ings I attended in Alabama, some twenty years ago. I went 
 to visit a friend, who lived near Montgomery, and to attend 
 some meetings in the vicinity. I took the cars at Bamberg. 
 I enjoy a railroad ride very much, when there are not too 
 many on board, and when there is no smoking or drinking. 
 Now, let us suppose this trip to be at times pleasant, and at 
 times otherwise. Observe those young men seated together. 
 For a while they were rather silent ; and I thought one of 
 them seemed a little serious — evidently more so than his 
 companions. The Strange Preacher said to himself, " I sus- 
 pect he is a member of the church ; and I hope the rest wish 
 well to the cause ; I will sit near them, and if I see an oppor- 
 tunity, speak to them on religious matters." But you must 
 not always judge by appearances. The young men were 
 whispering together ; then he whom I thought looked rather 
 serious, took out a bottle, and passed it round. The Strange 
 Preacher was much surprised, and was soon to be more so. 
 They had finished drinking, and the same young man whom 
 he imagined pious, with a polite bow, oifered the bottle to 
 him; after which the Wandering Arab kept as far from 
 them as possible. 
 
 At the end of the journey I found my friend, the Doctor, 
 waiting for me. He welcomed me, was much delighted to see 
 me, and said that he had given out several appointments 
 for me and that the friends were looking forv/ard to them 
 with some interest. My friend had been married some time, 
 and had several children. Both he and his wife were church 
 members, and she appeared to enjoy religion — was happy in 
 her Saviour's love ; but he confessed himself a backslider, 
 and rather cold. While conversing with him, my feelings 
 were much moved when I found out how indifferent he was. 
 I had some time to rest before the first meeting began, every 
 
132 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 thing being clone to make me feel at home. The Doctor 
 observed to me, neveral timcR, that I munt not expect a good 
 meeting; for the people generally \vorci indifferent, and they 
 had not had one there for Beveral years ; that the services 
 would not be protracted, as we would be perfectly willing to 
 close on Sunday, for it would be a heavy drag throughout. 
 The circuit preacher Avas to be there, })ut notwithstanding 
 our united efforts, he was afraid it would prove a failure. 
 This intelligence caused me to feel cast down, and I began to 
 regret having come ; but it was too late, and I resolved to 
 do the best I could. I prayed to God and placed my trust 
 in the Eock of ages. The time was near, and the Doctor 
 repeated his warning. I asked him not to mention it again, 
 as it discouraged me, but he said he did it purposely ; for he 
 saw how high my hopes were, and he wanted me to know 
 the true state of the case. One day I became so disheartened 
 that I told him I would retire to my room awhile. He gave 
 me the last Southern Christian Advocate : I took it, but did 
 not expect to read many lines. When I was alone I looked 
 ^o the Lord for help. After a while I opened the paper 
 carelessly, but my attention soon became fixed. I saw a 
 piece entitled, "A Minister's Dream of meeting his Mother 
 in Heaven ;" which I read and found that it was a dream of 
 my own. I became roused up, and again knelt down and 
 thanked my Lord. I exulted in the hope of meeting that 
 mother in the green fields of Eden. Some time before, I had 
 told that beautiful dream for the first time, while preaching 
 at Summerton, in Sumter District, and I was told afterwards 
 that Miss E. S., the sweet muse of Clarendon, was present 
 and wrote those beautiful lines, which I saw for the first time 
 while in Alabama. I was much comforted and strengthened, 
 and when I left my room, my feelings were entirely different 
 from those with which I entered it. 
 
 The church was called Oak Grove, and when we started 
 to the meeting the Doctor still continued to warn me not to 
 expect too much. I took it much better than before, and 
 prayed with more faith to the Saviour of my dear mother, 
 long gone to heaven. My trust was firmly fixed on the Eter- 
 nal Eock, and I claimed the promise and had hold on the 
 
THE FIRE BURNING. 133 
 
 horns of the altar. I cannot remember my text. Before I 
 got through, Brother Dancan, the minister in charge, came 
 in. I was afterwards introduced to him, and he preached in 
 the evening. I was much pleased with him. The meeting 
 had begun under happy auspices, and I praised the Lord for 
 that gracious time. The members of the church enjoyed 
 themselves very much — my hopes were high — my flag was 
 waving. The Doctor came to me much excited and observed 
 that he had made a great mistake, and wished to recall what 
 he had said. He was convinced that we would have a revi- 
 val ; and did not know when we would close. Sunda}^ came, 
 and O, what a happy day it Avas for the entire church. I 
 hope the friends in that community have not forgotten that 
 gracious time. Our love feast was a season of refreshing 
 from the presence of the Lord. The church could not ac- 
 commodate the large crowd. We had two sermons, and 
 Brother B. made a still stronger impression on me, and there 
 was a blessed manifestation of the power of the Highest. I 
 was told that such scenes had not been witnessed there for 
 years. Several mourners came to the altar, and among then^ 
 I had the pleasure of seeing the Doctor and a friend of his 
 come to the altar. Both were members, but had grown cold 
 and wished to be restored to their first love. The church 
 felt much and prayed earnestly for them. We had some con- 
 versions and several additions to the church. The meeting 
 continued and the Doctor came to me again and spoke of the 
 happy time we were having, and said he had no idea when 
 we would close. The meeting increased in interest, I think, 
 until the next Sabbath. I have forgotten several things con- 
 nected therewith, but one circumstance I hope never to forget. 
 One day during the meeting Doctor Hamilton, the Presid- 
 ing Elder, came to help us, and I think preached twice. The 
 first sermon I have never forgotten — particularly the intro- 
 duction. His text was Psalms Ix, 1-3. The sermon made a 
 life-time impression on the Strange Preacher — having heard 
 hundreds since which I have entirely forgotten, and having 
 preached many myself, of which I have no recollection. But 
 that of Doctor H. is still remembered. His face would inter- 
 est you before he said anything. He represented to us the 
 
134 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Eternal Jehovah, Heated on his throne, surrounded by all the 
 glories of the better world. The great princes stood all 
 around the immortal King. The six winged seraphim stood 
 and cried, one to another, " Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of 
 hosts — the whole earth is full of his glory." And you might 
 have imagined jcm saw the holy angels fall before the throne 
 on their faces as they worshipped the Eternal, saying, "Amen ; 
 blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and 
 power, and honor, and might be unto our God forever and 
 ever, amen." He then spoke of the distressed state in which 
 the man was, who Avas represented in the text. He enlarged 
 upon the awful pit as he saw it represented. There the poor 
 prisoner raised his plaintive cry for help, but was not lifted 
 up. He did not stop, but still continued his cry. What he 
 said about waiting patiently for the Lord was a sermon itself. 
 Imagine again that you behold the King on His eternal 
 throne. What is that which seems to impress the Monarch ? 
 He seemed like one listening to a distant sound. He raises 
 his hand; there is a great silence in heaven. The King leans 
 forward and listens again. He descends from his throne, 
 and goes to the golden walls and bends over, and signs to 
 the angels again, and there is still a greater silence. The 
 blessed spirits hold their breath and the holy winds are 
 hushed. The King inclines still more — the holy land is just 
 beneath. He has found out from whence proceeded that 
 cry. It is from the man in the horrible pit ; he hastens to 
 his help and delivers him, "placing his foot upon a rock and 
 establishing his going." Thus is the sinner saved from the 
 awful pit by the Saviour of the world. 
 
 The meeting closed, and I went on to other appointments. 
 On my way to Eobinson Springs I spent some time in Mont- 
 gomery. Come, friends, and stand with me on the banks of 
 the Alabama river, and listen with me when I hear, for the 
 first time, that beautiful story of " Here we rest." The 
 Doctor asked me, if I knew the meaning of the Indian word 
 '• Alabama," He told me, that long before the days of 76 
 there was a tribe of roving Indians, flying before the advance 
 of the pale face, who was driving them off and taking their 
 lands; and that after a long and dreary journey they came 
 
135 
 
 at last, tired and faint, to a noble river, teeming with fish. 
 The woods were filled with game, and this seemed to them 
 an earthly paradise, and here their chief told them to stop ; 
 that they had at last found their "Alabama," meaning '-here 
 we rest;" that their roving life was ended, and that the 
 pale face would follow them no more, as he would be content 
 with what he had got. The tribe believed him, and sang, 
 '^Trouble's over, trouble's over," and enjoyed themselves in 
 peace for many years. One summer's evening, near sundown, 
 the young men had returned from the hunt, loaded" with 
 game, and many fish had been caught ; the children were 
 playing under the noble trees ; the old men were seated 
 round, smoking the pipe of peace ; and the aged chief was 
 standing apart from the others, well pleased with what he 
 saw. Suddenly he started, looked up, and listened! His 
 face had a sad expression — he gave the sign — there was 
 silence all around. A tear fell from his eye ; he smote his 
 breast, and said aloud, " I hear the hum of the honey bee — 
 the pale face is coming. Yes, he is coming — this is no longer 
 an Alabama for us — we must again begin our wandering!" 
 
 The Doctor said that he was present, several years before, 
 when the last of the Creek Indians were removed to the 
 lands in the "West, which had been given to them, when two 
 warriors, who said they would not go, had to be bound ; and 
 while waiting at the river, they, by a mighty eifort, burst 
 their bands and tried to escape, but were soon killed by the sol- 
 diers ; whereupon the Indian maidens rushed up, tearing their 
 hair and lamenting the death of their leaders and frequently 
 kissing their wounds. My friend told me how sadly he felt 
 as he looked on. And while I listened, with tears in my 
 eyes, a cloud gathered overhead and several large drops fell 
 slowly, when the AYandering Arab said to himself, '-perhaps 
 some departed spirits of the Indian braves are hovering over 
 lis, weeping with me as I listen to the sad tale of the Ala- 
 bama — here we rest." No where will we rest safely but in 
 heaven. 
 
 I was at more than one meeting at Robinson's Springs, 
 but I have forgotten most things connected with them. 
 There, I formed the acquaintance of a Brother Whetstone, 
 
13G STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 a local ])roac'hor, who liad removed from South Caroli- 
 na — and an imelc of Ca])tain Whetstone, of our neis^hbor- 
 hood. lie was in the decline of life ; but full of faith and 
 hojie — bound for glory and heaven. I was treated with 
 much kindness by that aged servant of the Lord, and all his 
 family. 
 
 The lands in this portion of Alabama were not so rich as 
 those around Oak Grove; but my first impression was, that 
 my friends there enjoyed more heartfelt religion, and were 
 living nearer the throne of grace. And, after all, pure reli- 
 gion is much to be preferred to the riches of this world. One 
 good Heaven-blessed meeting, where the church is refreshed, 
 where backsliders are reclaimed, where immortal souls pass 
 from death unto life, where some are called to preach — is 
 worth far more than all the cotton and lumber that was 
 ever floated down the Alabama and Edisto rivers — yes, a 
 thousand times more. 
 
 There was preaching at Dr. "W.'s house one night. Wo 
 had a season of rejoicing — one of those old-time meetings, 
 which the Strange Preacher loves to attend, as he passes 
 through life, calling for volunteers for glory and heaven. 
 It was a season of general enjoyment among Grod's people. 
 How happy I felt, while listening to those heavenly songs ; 
 one of which I remembered having heard once before. The 
 chorus was, 
 
 * * We have but one more river to cross. 
 And then we'll sing Hosannah ! " 
 
 During my trip, the best meeting I attended was near the 
 Springs, at a church called Tabernacle. It was a very in- 
 teresting time. With the exception of one blessed sight, I 
 now have but a faint recollection of that meeting. All else 
 has passed away, leaving scarcely a trace behind. My text 
 for that day was one I used often in the olden time. It was 
 II Kings vii. 3, 4. Twenty years ago, it was a favorite pas- 
 sage with me. There was a large crowd out ; the singing 
 was thrilling, and the walls were made to ring ; the power 
 of the Highest came down, and many mourners came up. 
 The doors of the church were opened, and among others 
 
THE AGED COUPLE. 137 
 
 came a very old man, over eighty years old. He had two 
 sons, class-leaders — good, pious men. The walls of that 
 venerable house, and the grand old woods around, seemed 
 to cry out, " Glory in the Highest ! " we, too, joining in the 
 cry. Brother W., and several others, seemed ready for that 
 happy land; and the Wandering Arab clapped his hands, 
 and shouted, " Farewell, world ! " He passed through the 
 throng, exhorting and entreating sinners to give their hearts 
 to their Saviour. But no words could tell the joy of the 
 wife of that old man. She was completely overpowered, 
 and remained for some time insensible — seemingly hovering 
 between the two worlds — wishing at once to be in heaven to 
 thank the Lord personally for her husband's conversion, and 
 to praise him for ever ; and then again, if it was the Lord's 
 will, she would gladly remain on earth, to help, and to rejoice 
 with, the father of her Christian sons on his way to glory. 
 Some persons became alarmed, and sent for Dr. W. When 
 she recovered, she said, with a heavenly smile on her face, 
 and a tear of bliss in her eye, that she was only overpowered 
 by the unexpected pleasure of seeing her husband, for whom 
 she had been praying for more than forty years, profess 
 religion and join the church. The tide of feeling was very 
 strong in our midst. The old lady said she wanted to see 
 me ; and I can almost now feel the pressure with which she 
 grasped my hand. She told me that she would never forget 
 me ; for that, by the help of the Lord, I had saved her 
 husband. 
 
 Farewell to Alabama ! 
 
LEAF THE TWENTY-SECOND. 
 
 A MEMENTO TO MY DEPARTED FRIEND, REV. IT. II. DURANT ; OR, 
 A VISIT TO SANDY SPRING CAMP-GROUND, SOUTH CAROLINA. 
 
 I met Brother Durant first when on the Walterboro circuit. 
 Uc was then quite young, and I soon felt a strong attach- 
 ment for the youthful preacher. I saw him for the last 
 time at Binnakers, not long before his death. I loved him 
 as a brother in Christ, all through our long acquaintance. 
 Farewell ! dear departed brother ; we have spent many 
 happy hours together in this vale of tears ; I trust through 
 grace to meet you, to use one of your favorite sayings, far 
 " above the blue-throned stars," where sickness and death 
 are felt and feared no more. 
 
 Some years ago, I had the pleasure of attending a meeting 
 at Sandy Spring camp-ground, with other preachers. I can- 
 not be minute in describing the journey ; but we arrived 
 there after night, and found the friends glad to see us. The 
 next day, it was not long before I saw some signs of the 
 Lord among his people. Occasionally, there was a shout 
 heard in the camp, and some mourning soul would be blessed 
 by the Lord. To make use of a figure, the friends generally 
 might be said to be sailing along pleasantly, not far from 
 the shore, but in full view of land all the time — near enough 
 to converse with their friends on the beach, and to send 
 messasres of love to the dear ones at home. And now and 
 
 to 
 
 then, a vessel returning from a long voyage, would say to 
 those sailing near the shore, " better not go too far, for the 
 sea is very rough over the bar." 
 
 Now, let me tell you of the great hero of camp-meetings. 
 We were called to the stand by the loud-sounding horn, and 
 the man that everybody loved to see was in the pulpit — the 
 right man was in the right place. The hymn had been sung, 
 and the great crowd was bowed in humble prayer. Those 
 of you who have heard Brother Durant pray, remeniber 
 with what power and unction he seemed at times to bo 
 
139 
 
 blessed — how he at times bore his congregation away from 
 earth almost to the eternal throne. He gave out his text. 
 Well, says one of those who have often heard him, I can 
 guess what it was — " As the hart panteth after the water- 
 brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O, God ! " l^o ; that 
 was not it. " Who is he that cometh from Edom, with dyed 
 garments from Bozrah?" ]^o. " Thy eyes shall see Jeru- 
 salem a quiet habitation." Not that. "A king shall rule 
 in righteousness." Try again. " The time is short." That's 
 not it. Well, it must have been that great favorite of his — 
 " As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness." That's 
 it ; you are right now. Those of his friends who have often 
 heard him on that passage, I hope will now be reminded, 
 both of his appearance in the pulpit, and of his style. When 
 he first got up, there was a very careless air about his per- 
 son and manner. One who had not heard him before, might 
 have thought that he was either very sleepy or very tired ; 
 and he might have said, " I won't be much surprised if that 
 preacher should finish his sermon seated." But let the 
 stranger wait — a change was sure to come over the preacher 
 in time. Though Brother Durant generally begun as above 
 described, he usually became more interested himself, and so 
 would interest his congregation. As he went on, he began 
 to warm up a little — became more erect; his hands no lono-er 
 hung heavily by his side. He was telling us how the Lord 
 punished the children of Israel with various plagues for their 
 sins; and spoke of the fiery serpents, and of many being 
 bitten by them ; and of the sudden awful deaths therefrom. 
 He dwelt upon the general terror and distress throughout 
 all the hosts, and told that the great Jehovah, remembering 
 the covenant he had made with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, 
 became sorry for his people, and told Moses of the remedy. 
 
 A brazen serpent was made, and put on the top of a high 
 pole; and a proclamation was made throughout the camp, 
 that all who had been bitten could be cured by looking on 
 the serpent. The heralds were not sent out to spread the 
 news to a few favorite tribes ; but to publish it to the entire 
 host. You might have imagined you saw the messengers 
 passing through Benjamin and Manasseh alike — through 
 
140 tiTRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Eeiibon and Juduh, and all the tribes. Some who had been 
 bitten, were but little moved by the news. Havinir no faitli 
 in the remedy, they perished without an effort; but the 
 general alarm was very great. At last, some of their own 
 accord, and others by persuasion, looked and were saved. 
 The glad news now spread rapidly everywhere ; but still 
 some remained incredulous — they had no faith. Others were 
 running about, hunting their friends, and entreating them to 
 come and be cured ; but hundreds were still perishing, though 
 the serpent was placed in their midst. Preacher and congre- 
 gation were alike very much excited ; and he roused himself 
 for a mighty effort, and the crowd looked expectant ; minis- 
 ters, exhorters, and others were much moved, and were all 
 attentive ; but perhaps the Strange Preacher was more 
 affected than all others. He could not sit quietly. 
 
 Brother D. paused, and looked up, as if asking Divine 
 help, and then requested the church to pray for him, and 
 paused again, as if to gather all his strength for the great 
 attempt. He then drew a picture, which I hope many will 
 remember in blessed eternity. He presented to them a very 
 old man, father of children and grandchildren, who was 
 much respected throughout all the host, who had been bit- 
 ten by a fiery serpent, and was in the last extremity, his 
 wife was weeping over him. She had been the partner of 
 his many griefs and his few pleasures, all through life. She 
 hung over him, overwhelmed with sorrow ; for she remem- 
 bered how faithful he had been, and thought of the many 
 times in Egypt, when he had worked hard to finish his 
 heavy task, and then come and help her with hers ; and had 
 often saved her from the whip of the cruel taskmaster ; and 
 now he was almost dead before her eyes. She entreated 
 him to look; but he had no faith. She remembered the 
 birth of their first child; and felt even then the kiss he gave 
 her when he saw the first pledge of their love. Oh ! if he 
 would only turn his eyes to the brazen serpent ; but no, he 
 would not. She thought of the time when there was no 
 straw given them to mix with their mortar; when he would 
 rise much sooner than usual, and go all about to gather 
 some ; and would work hard to finish his task, and would 
 
THE DYING OLD ISRAELITE. 141 
 
 tlieii assist her. She remembered, too, the time when the 
 arm of the taskmaster was made bare for the blow, but it 
 fell not, for he helped her through in time. And there ho 
 lay, almost dead before her eyes. His relatives were all 
 weeping around him, and implored him to look ; but all-'in 
 vpJn . He seemed almost to pass away ; but some one now 
 came up, who had long known the old man in Egypt, and 
 respected him much, and told him, that just a short time 
 ago, an aged man, who was almost as bad off as he was, 
 looked, and was cured. He had no faith, and would not com- 
 ply. Both preacher and people had now become still more 
 excited ; and the Strange Preacher said to himself, " I am 
 afraid he will die, before he can be persuaded to look ! " 
 
 The preacher then told of some happy ones, running about 
 almost wild with pleasure, telling of those who had been 
 saved. One who knew the old man, and had worked with 
 him in Egypt, came and told him of one who was much 
 worse off than he, and who raised his expiring eyes and 
 looked, and was cured. This seemed to arouse him a little. 
 Every now and then, some one would pass them, bearing 
 their almost dying friends in their arms, to the foot of the 
 pole, that they might be saved. The old man's wife then 
 made one last effort ; she stooped down, and whispered in 
 his almost closed ear ; she kissed his cold lips, and told him 
 of their sorrows and joys in Egypt ; and entreated him, for * 
 her sake, to look and live. The old man faintly returned 
 her kiss ; and then, with a smile of love true till death, she 
 told her sons to take their father, and gently carry him to 
 the foot of the pole. They carefully raised him up ; but 
 some who were passing by, advised them to lay him quietly 
 down, and let him pass away, for it was too late. But 
 another said, there was yet hope ; for a man who was ap- 
 parently dead, opened his eyes', and looked, and was cured. 
 The group slowly moved on ; the wife walking by his side, 
 praying to the God of Israel to save her husband. The 
 Wandering Arab became so moved, that he whisj)ereli , to a 
 brother, " The old man is almost gone ; he has only three 
 breaths to draw ; and he will die before he gets to the pole." 
 The group slowly moved on, with their nearly lifeless bur- 
 
142 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 don ; tho old man drew one more breath gaspini^ly, and then 
 another, which histed him to tho foot of the pole, when ho 
 remained without moving, in the arms of his weeping sons. 
 The Strange Preacher said to his friend, almost loud enough 
 to be heard by others, " What a great pity ; it is all over 
 with the old man ; he is dead ; he is dead." But no; he had 
 one more breath to draw. His wife kissed him again, and 
 he opened his eyes very feebly ; she pointed him to the ser- 
 pent ; he looked, and was saved. O, my soul I who can 
 describe what followed ? lie was cured at once ; and sprang 
 to his feet, clapping his hands, and praising God aloud. Ho 
 threw his arms around the neck of his wife, and kissed her. 
 He laughed and cried aloud; and taking up the bed on 
 which he had been borne, ran off like an antelope, through 
 tho camp, praising the God of Israel. 
 
 My friends, you must excuse me for not telling you tho 
 effect this produced on the congregation, for I cannot. Tho 
 Strange Preacher shook hands with some in the altar, and 
 shouted out, " Farewell world, I'm bound for the kingdom.'' 
 
 One more i:)icture connected with that sermon, and I will, 
 for a while, be done with the great revivalist. He told us 
 of the great change which takes place in the sinner, who has 
 long been dead in transgression and sin, when he looks with 
 faith to his Saviour, and is saved. He sj^oke of an old gray- 
 headed sinner who lived in the District in which he was 
 born, who had lived nearly to the close of a long life without 
 hope and without Christ in the world. His wife and son 
 were God-fearing Christians ; but he was very wicked, and 
 all hope of his salvation was nearly gone. At last he bocamo 
 powerfully convicted, and awful horror took possession of his 
 soul ; then he cried aloud in his agony and asked all to pray 
 for him ; that he knew there was no salvation for him, that 
 his day of graCvO was forever gone, for he had committed tho 
 unpardonable sin, and God never would forgive him. Ho 
 was encouraged to look to the Saviour and be saved ; but he 
 would not be comforted, but continued to ask others to pray 
 for him, saying he knew there was no mercy for him — God 
 would never forgive so great a sinner. He said, if he ever 
 got religion he would never tell any one about it, for he had 
 
THE MIDNIGHT CONVERSION. 143 
 
 been so great a sinner he knew none would believe him. 
 He continued in that state a long time, having a certain 
 place to which he often went to pray. On a bright moon- 
 light night — after midnight — feeling worse than^usual, and 
 being afraid to go to sleep, lest he should be lost before 
 morning, he got up and went to the old place to pray once 
 more, ere he should die and go to hell, where he expected to 
 be before sunrise. He was all alone ; he fell upon his knees 
 and told the Lord he was come to offer his last prayer before 
 being forever lost ; he knew his sins were too great ever to 
 be forgiven ; but he prayed God, for the Saviour's sake, to 
 have mercy on him, and he would give him all the glory — ^^ 
 keeping back none — that even then at that hour, he would 
 go and tell his neighbors — the Major, the Squire, cousin 
 Mary, and all. As soon as the last promise was made, his 
 Saviour's intercessions prevailed, and light broke in upon his 
 despairing soul ; his sins were forgiven and he was happy in 
 his Saviour's love. He sprang up and laughed aloud for joy, 
 and cried aloud, " I have found the Lord," and ran to the 
 house and awoke his wife and son, and told them the glad 
 news, and of the promise which he had made. They begged 
 him to wait till morning, but he would not. They told him 
 there was a heavy cloud gathering, and they expected a 
 storm. But he said he was resolved to tell the neighbors 
 that night, that the Lord had pardoned his sins. So he told 
 his son to saddle the horse. His son told him the saddle was 
 not at home — he would have to wait — but he had a sheep- 
 skin thrown across the horse and was off. 
 
 Li imagination the Strange Preacher saw the scene pass 
 before him. The old man rode off, giving vent to his feel- 
 ings in loud praise, and went over to the Doctor's and awoke 
 the family and asked if all were present, but was told there 
 was one still up stairs ; he wanted him present too. He then 
 told them that he had found the Lord, and requested them 
 to rejoice with him, after which he rode off, clapping his 
 hands and shouting. He then went to the Major's, over the 
 creek, and aroused the whole house. The circuit preacher 
 was there, but though sick, he had to rise too. He told them 
 the glorious news and begged them to exult with him. He 
 
144 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 then ])roeceded to the Squire's, and called uj) the whole fam- 
 ily — the old grandmother and all, and clapped his hands and 
 shouted until the woods ran<^. He rode oil' bare-headed, and 
 went on to the last place, which was cousin Mary's. The 
 old horse was very tired, but he got there at last. There 
 were many young folks there who had set up very late, but 
 were then fast asleep, and it was some time before he could 
 awake them ; but he continued to call, and at last roused 
 them up, told them who he was and what had brought him 
 at that late hour ; that he had been throughout the neigh- 
 borhood to tell the good news. All were present ; even the 
 servants had come to find out the cause of so much excite- 
 ment — even old Cudjo and Maum Hannah were there. He 
 told them the joyful tidings and begged them to rejoice with 
 him, and they rejoiced with him. 
 
 Brother Durant was through, and such a shout was never 
 before heard — such a sight never seen at that camp-ground. 
 Some were prostrate in and around the altar, praising the 
 Lord aloud. Mourners came up by hundreds ; scores were 
 converted ; and the Strange Preacher was passing through 
 the crowd trying to sing — 
 
 *' I want to live a Christian here, I want to die a shouting, 
 I want to see my Saviour near, when soul and body are parting. 
 
 " But you have forgotten to tell us anything more about 
 those persons in their little vessels, hugging the shore — keep- 
 ing' always in sight of land — near enough to speak to friends 
 on the beach, and by them to send messages of love to those 
 at home. Do tell us what became of them." I am glad you 
 reminded me.of them, for I had almost forgotten them. For 
 a while every thing went on very pleasantly ; the sky was 
 cloudless and the water beneath bright and smooth ; in fact 
 more than one of the party was seen to look in nature's 
 mirror below. Brothers C, and H., and E., and S. were 
 among those who were more daring, and ventured farther 
 from land than the rest. As time passed on there would be 
 a little ripple on the deep — a slight agitation in the water — 
 nothing, however, to alarm the most faint-hearted. Occa- 
 sionally you might notice that the wind was a little strong, 
 
GOING OUT TO SEA. 145 
 
 and then the vessels would be driven a little farther from 
 land ; and then those who were more daring would appear 
 to enjoy it very much. But soon the blast would subside, 
 and all become calm. I noticed, however, that when Brother 
 D. had got some distance into his sermon, that the Storm King 
 — to use a remark of his — had begun to rouse himself, and 
 those nearest the shore seemed a little uneasy ; but as all 
 was right I thought no danger need be apprehended. The 
 wind, however, continued to rise, and when Brother D. was 
 telling us of the aged man who had been bitten by the ser- 
 pent, and who, when about to draw his last breath, turned 
 and looked, and was cured, I felt that the Storm King had 
 unfurled his banner and was riding triumphantly on the 
 wind. As soon as I had recovered somewhat from my excite- 
 ment, I raised my spy-glass and looked towards the shore — 
 all was confusion on the little vessels. I merely caught sight 
 of Brother C, leading the way, with E., and S., and H. close 
 behind him, under the influence of a very strong wind that 
 was hurrying them on to the bar at the rate of thirty miles 
 to the hour. The other little barks were overturned, and the 
 friends, with their life-preservers on, were making desperate 
 efforts to reach the beach. But when we were told of the 
 old man who was so happily converted, and who had rode 
 bare-headed, without a saddle, to let his friends know the 
 glad tidings ; and when he had reached the last house, and 
 cousin Mary and Maum Hannah were rejoicing with him, I 
 took my glass and turned it again to the shore ; and the little 
 barks, with C, and E., and H,, and S., were seen far over the 
 bar, still under the influence of a tremendous pressure. Some 
 time after, a vessel returning said the little vessels had passed 
 them, and the passengers had requested them to say to their 
 friends at home, that they were well provisioned and all was 
 right, though it would be many days before they could return. 
 Farewell, for a while to H. H. Durant, the great revivalist 
 of the South Carolina Conference^ — the famous man for pro- 
 tracted and camp-meetings — who did so much good in his 
 day and time, and who was said, in one year of his ministry, 
 to have taken more than a thousand persons into the church. 
 Farewell, dear brother of my soul, May we meet in heaven. 
 
 y 
 
LEAF THE TWENTY-THIRD. 
 
 A MEMENTO TO MY DEAR DEPARTED IJROTIIER IN CHRIST, REV. 
 
 W. C. KIRKLAND THE MAN WHOM THE CHURCH AND THE 
 
 WORLD LOVED. 
 
 Art thou gone to the Jerusalem above, thou long-tried and 
 ever-true friend of my soul ? If I should neglect to say 
 something of thee, while dwelling on the scenes of my past 
 life, I would feel that I had done wrong to thy memory, and 
 to the very strong affection that existed between us. Never 
 can I forget W. C. Kirkland, one of the most upright of men 
 — one of the purest of Christians. To know^ him well was to 
 love him much. I remember him even before he began to 
 preach. I remember so well when I saw him for the last 
 time — I went with him to Bamberg, where he took the 
 train for Spartanburg. We never met again ; for he w^as 
 called soon after, to enter the rest which remaineth for the 
 people of God. We had, for many years, called each other, 
 David and Jonathan — and truly was he the Jonathan of my 
 soul. 
 
 He was born in Barnwell District, near Buford's Bridge, 
 where many of his relatives and friends still live. His man- 
 ner was 80 kind and prepossessing, that you always felt at 
 home while with him. To a member of the church, who 
 knew him well — if cast down and depressed — a friendly 
 shake of Brother K.'s hand, was like water to the thirsty 
 traveller. But the true friend, the pure Christian, the good 
 preacher, the brave knight of the cross, has gone " where 
 the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at 
 rest." 
 
 He did much service to the church and the world ; he bore 
 the heat of many summer, and the cold of many winter, 
 (^lays — preaching to all of religion and of heaven. He did 
 much good by his ministry, but more by his private walk 
 and conversation. I suspect few ever did as much service to 
 the cause, out of the pulpit, as he did ; for the Holy Spirit 
 
THE HOUSE WITHOUT A SHED-EOOM. 147 
 
 seemed to be always present with him. His whole life was 
 as " sweet ointment poured out." He was also much res- 
 pected and loved by members of other branches of the 
 church. In some places, I suppose, he had as many Baptist 
 as Methodist friends ; and his name will long be remembered 
 by hundreds on the many circuits which he travelled, from 
 the mountain to the , sea-shore. He was ready always " to 
 rejoice with those who rejoiced, and to weep with those who 
 wept." But why should I attempt to say»more of him who 
 was so well known and loved in these lands ? 
 
 Years ago, while he was travelling the long and laborious 
 Barnwell circuit, by his urgent request, I went to help him 
 hold a two days' meeting at a place called Concord, where 
 those true friends of the church lived — Brothers Spann, Barr, 
 and Smith, and others. It was my first visit to the j^lace ; 
 and the road was a long, weary one. Did any of you, my 
 friends, ever pass that route, and feel like saying to your- 
 self, " somewhat like this is the way to glory ; for they say, 
 'Jordan is a hard road to travel?'" I acknowledge that I 
 more than once had such thoughts ; but brother "Jonathan" 
 had charged me to be there, and had promised me a large 
 congregation. It was very unpleasant travelling ; for it was 
 just after a heavy rain, and the weather was very warm. 
 The road was filled with water, and was in places even boggy. 
 I crossed the Edisto at Gunter's Bridge ; but the church was 
 many miles from the river. Late in the evening, I got to a 
 brother's house — a small affair. I soon found out with regret 
 that there was no shed-room to it for the preacher. I had 
 been expected by the family, and was told I had to preach 
 that night — that Brother K. had appointed the meeting, and 
 that he had told them I was fond of night meetings, and 
 would not disappoint them. The Wandering Arab will 
 never forget that time ; but not for the great outpouring of 
 the Spirit — not because he fired off a big gun, and swung 
 clear — not for the conviction of sinners, for the reclaiming of 
 backsliders, or for the conversion of mourners. '' For what,' 
 say you. I will tell you presently — only hold on a little. 
 I will not now say unto you, as Antony did over the body of 
 the great Cassar — " If you have tears, prepare to shed them 
 
148 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 now;" but 1 "svill say, if you ever did enjoy a jolce on the 
 War Preacher, prc])are to do ho now. 
 
 The nii^ht came — that short summer nii^ht — but, O ! how 
 I wished it eliorter than it was. The small congrciration 
 had assembled. Friends, arc any of you fond of smoking? 
 Do you lovo the smell of a strong old pipe, which has often 
 been used, but not often cleaned ? Now, between you and 
 me, I am well acquainted with a preacher who cannot endui'o 
 it, but who would almost prefer taking a dose of salts any 
 time, than have to smell for ten minutes a strong old pipe. 
 So you may form some faint idea how the parson felt, when 
 he found out he would have to bear the scent of at least 
 twenty pipes at once. But so it was ; for as soon as the 
 little crowd got into the house and sat down, each one pulled 
 out his old pipe, got ready, and went to work. It was then 
 all over with the Strange Preacher. He had been thinking 
 what he should preach from, and had selected one of his 
 favorite subjects ; and he had prepared some pictures with 
 which he thought some of his friends would be pleased. But 
 when he found he had to face the fire and the smell of 
 twenty pipes, ho struck his flag at once ; there was no 
 preaching in him. Have any of you ever heard what may 
 be called a ten cents' sermon ? There was one preached that 
 night, and no niistake. The parson Avaited for the smokers 
 to stop, that he might begin ; but no, they smoked on. Ho 
 opened and closed his hymn book and Bible ; but they 
 smoked on. He then moved, and drew up his feet, as if 
 ready to rise ; but all in vain, they smoked on. He cleared 
 his throat, and spat on the floor; but they smoked on. The 
 Strange Preacher was almost in despair. He drew out his 
 watch once or twice, w^ith a quick, sudden jerk, as if the last 
 moment had come ; but all to no purpose, the twenty old 
 pipes smoked on, as if for life and death. The parson then 
 made another pretence, as if going to rise — he pushed the 
 table a little from him, and holding the open book in one hand, 
 rose almost half from his seat, and then turned his despairing 
 eyes ; but out rolled the smoke from those twenty old pipes, 
 as if from as many little furnaces ; and the smokers smoked 
 on, as if the ransom of a captive prince depended on their 
 
THE TWENTY SMOKERS. 149 
 
 doing their best. Alas, for the Wandering Arab! he felt 
 that it was all over with him, and he said to himself, " If I 
 ever preach again, it shall not be from any of my favorites ; 
 I will draw no pictures to-night." He resumed his seat, and 
 felt sad at heart ; and he was well satisfied that if his Brother 
 "Jonathan" had only known how the case was to be, he 
 w^ould not have left an appointment for his '"David," at that 
 place. He tjien beckoned a brother, and asked him, in a 
 whisper, if those smokers would smoke on during preaching. 
 " No," said he, " but they will go on till you commence." 
 The parson then sprang to his feet, gave out the hymn, and 
 the twenty smokers stopped as if moved hy the same im- 
 pulse ; and a very short sermon was then preached ; and, 
 even in those days, when money was so plentiful, I doubt if 
 it was Avorth more than ten cents. The benediction was 
 pronounced, and soon the smokers were at it again. 
 
 But it is bed-time now ; and there is no little shed-room 
 for the parson ; and some few of the smokers still remained. 
 The long ride, and those twenty pipes, had worn me out 
 entirely ; so I thought I must go to bed — shed-room or no 
 shed-room. I whispered to the brother, and asked him, how 
 I should proceed. " O ! " said he, " the old woman is in the 
 kitchen now, that's your chance ; but you had better be in 
 a hurry, or she'll be back before you are through." The 
 preacher partly undressed. He had not time to wind his 
 watch ; and he oifered up a little five cents' prayer, and sprang 
 into bed. His head had hardly touched the little pillow, 
 before back came the old woman. It was some time before 
 he could sleep; and he said to himself, "I love Brother 'Jon- 
 athan' too much, not to make an effort at improvement here, 
 for his sake." 
 
 Morning came ; there was a long ride yet before the par- 
 son; he therefore made an early start. The sun had just 
 risen ; and Grunter's Bridge and the Edisto were not far off. 
 The brother went a short way, to give the preacher the 
 right direction ; and when about to separate, the preacher 
 asked to be permitted to give a little advice. He entreated 
 him to endeavor to lay hold on eternal life ; and spoke of 
 the joys of heaven, and said he hoped he would meet him 
 
150 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 thoro. The brotlier wept, and gave the parpon a parting 
 grasp. And the preacher, as if he had just thought of it, 
 said, "Brother, we have not yet got to glory, but are Btill in 
 thin vale of tears ; so wo should attempt to make our friends 
 comfortable when they come to see us. If I ever pass by 
 here again, I' hope I will have the pleasure of seeing another 
 room to your house. Farewell ; let us meet in heaven." I 
 then rode off a little way, when I stopped, and Jooked back. 
 The early sun was not far above the forest trees, and Gun- 
 ter's Bridjre and the Edisto not far off. But there still stood 
 the good brother, gazing at the Strange Preacher, with a 
 look that, even at that distance, seemed to say, " while life 
 lasts, I will not forget you ; and if you ever pass here again, 
 you shall see the room." Once again, in my roving life, I 
 crossed at Gunter's Bridge ; and when I came in sight of the 
 house, there was the shed-room. 
 
 I reached Concord, and felt more than repaid for my long 
 ride, and for having to face the twenty smokers, when I felt 
 Brother " Jonathan's" warm grasp, and heard him say, " My 
 dear Brother ' David,' I am so glad to see you ; " and then to 
 have been introduced to such good men as Brothers Spann, 
 Barr, Smith, and others ; and to have enjoyed with them a 
 good meeting. 
 
 Another meeting I attended with Brother Kirkland, was 
 at Buford's Bridge, where there was a time of refreshing 
 from the presence of the Lord. I expect alwaj^s to remem- 
 ber how Brother K. preached, and prayed, and sung — how 
 he seemed full of heav.enly thoughts when he told us of the 
 Saviour's love for a lost, ruined world. Never mind what the 
 text was, whether, " Moses said unto Ilobab, come thou and 
 go with us ;" or, " With one accord, in one place ;" or, Moses to 
 the Lord, "We will not go hence unless thy presence go with 
 us ; " or, about the old and the young prophet — the Spirit of 
 the Lord was always present with him ; and ho preached from 
 the heart to the heart. He sometimes looked, as if his gaze 
 was on the other side of the flood, in the sweet fiekls of 
 Eden. I have seen three preachers in my life, whose faces 
 while in the pulpit, excited mo more than all others ; and if 
 those men stood before me, even if they remained silent, 
 
WORKING FOR OTHER CHURCHES. 151 
 
 I would enjoy myself more than while listening to well- 
 arranged sermons from some men I have heard. Those 
 preachers were — Bishop Capers, Brother McPhail, and W. C. 
 Kirkland. I could never look at them long, without wish- 
 ing that I was as well prepared for heaven through grace, 
 as I thought they were. Brother K. told us of his boyhood, 
 of the days spent with his relatives and friends in that 
 neighborhood^ and of his dear departed father, whom ho 
 knew would welcome him to heaven. At times, he would 
 clap his hands, and cry out "glory!" making you think, 
 while looking at him, that you almost saw the face of an 
 angel. 
 
 I remember Sunday night as being the best time we had. 
 Then the holy man was trans2)orted with delight, for he saw 
 some dear ones coming up for his prayers, and he prayed as 
 if he had hold of the horns of the altar ; and when he arose 
 from his knees, he began to sing, " I feel the work reviving, 
 reviving in my soul ; " or, " Our bondage it will end, by and 
 bye;" or, "Where now are the Hebrew children." I- have 
 often enjoyed myself very much at Mizpah ; but never as 
 much as when I worshipped the Lord there, with the Jona- 
 than of my soul — the pure, the heavenly -minded W. C. Kirk- 
 land. 
 
 Another meeting I attended with him, at Barnwell court- 
 house. " There !" do you say, " where you have no church ?" 
 Yes, there it was. Did you know that holy woman, one of 
 the sweet singers of Israel — sister T. ? I met Brother K. 
 there many years ago ; but that good woman has since gone 
 to heaven. It was the hour of private prayer, and we retired 
 to our room, and bowed our knees before the throne of 
 grace, and spent some time in silent devotion. We arose ; 
 one said to the other, " Brother, it has just occurred to me, 
 that we ought to have a protracted meeting here." The 
 other replied, that he had been thinking of the same thing. 
 So it was agreed upon. We had no hope of having any addi- 
 tion to our church ; but thought it would help our Baptist and 
 Presbyterian friends. One of us remarked, that we would 
 preach and pray ; but would not open the door, as we did 
 not expect any members. We left our room, feeling happy 
 
152 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 in our bouIs. Sister T. looked as if she could almost guess 
 wtiat wo had been talking about. Wo told her, and re- 
 quested her to announce the meeting for us. She asked if 
 wo expected to get any members there. We replied, no ; but 
 we thought it would help the other churches. She said, she 
 expected it would. 
 
 The time for our meeting came ; and the ministers were 
 there ready to begin the good work. We did not expect any 
 members, but hoped we would help others — that shows you, 
 friends, what kind of a spii'it possessed W. C. Kirkland. I 
 never knew him Ito abor more diligently, or i>ray with great- 
 er power, or preach with more unction — not expecting one 
 member. He still continued to work, not for himself, but 
 others ; while devils were no doubt astonished, and the holy 
 angels regarded him approvingly, because they had seen few 
 such men. O, my soul ! what a gracious meeting we had ; 
 and how much Brothers D., B., and A. enjoyed themselves. 
 And sisters T. and A. looked, at times, as if they were listen- 
 ing to the harps of heaven. The Holy One of Israel was 
 graciously present; and Brother K. shouted aloud "glory;" 
 and the Strange Preacher shook hands with his Baptist and 
 Presbyterian brethren, and requested them to meet him in 
 heaven. Our Baptist Brother B. asked why we did not 
 open the door ; and said he thought we would like to do so. 
 Brother K. replied, that " we would do so every day, if we 
 expected any members ; but we will not open the door here, as 
 this meeting is for you and the Presbyterians ;" and Brother 
 B., with a smile I can never forget, said, "we are very 
 much obliged to you ; but I would like to see you get some 
 help for your own church." " O ! never mind," said Brother 
 K., "we are working for the Lord." And the Strange 
 Preacher then thought to himself, that he could almost hear 
 the Saviour say to the angels, " that is a man after my own 
 heart." 
 
 The meeting continued for two weeks — Brother B. every 
 now and then asking us to open the door of our church ; 
 and to please him. Brother K. consented to do so, telling him 
 what would be the result. No one joined. 
 
 Such a preacher was W. C. E.irkland. AVhere can we find 
 
FAREWELL TO W. C. KIRKLAND. 153 
 
 another like him ? Farewell ! dear brother of my soul ; if I 
 ever felt glad to see you on earth, how much more will I re- 
 joice to meet you in heaven 1 From my heart, I believe I 
 would have loved my Saviour more truly, more devotedly, 
 and that I would have served him more faithfully than I 
 have" done, if I could have been blessed with that good 
 man's prayers and advice more than I was. I have often 
 done and said things, for which I have been sorry after- 
 wards, which I think never would have happened, if I could 
 have always been with him. I believe 1 would enjoy more 
 of heaven than I now expect to when I get there, if the 
 Jonathan of my soul had been with me more. Farewell ! 
 much-loved brother ; heaven gained all of what earth lost, 
 when you left us. I was much benefitted by being so often 
 with you. Alas ! for me ; I am afraid I sometimes grieved 
 the blessed Spirit, and made my guardian angel almost wee]), 
 because thou wast not always with me. Farewell ! dear bro- 
 ther; I have missed thee much, and think of thee often. 
 Through grace, I hope to meet you at last, in the green 
 fields of Eden, on the other side of the flood. 
 
 " Thou art gone to the grave — but we will not deplore thee ; 
 Though sorrow and darkness encompass the tomb ; 
 Thy Saviour has passed through its portals before thee, 
 And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom. 
 
 *' Thou art gone to the grave — we no longer behold thee, 
 
 Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side ; 
 
 But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, 
 
 And sinners may hope, since the sinless have died." 
 
 10 
 
LEAF THE TWENTY-FOURTH. 
 
 REMARKAIU.E DREAMS. 
 
 From these Stray Leaves my friends must have learned 
 that the Strange Preacher puts more faith in dreams than 
 some people do. I know that many nightly visions are vain 
 and foolish, and some of them I know are very wicked ; but 
 I do believe there are others direct from heaven. How do 
 you account for the one in which I was told that L)r. S. 
 should join the church; and the one about the black-eyed 
 young man on my first visit to Eock Springs ? Both came 
 to pass. And I pledge my word for them, and any others I 
 may relate. Why should not dreams and visions be direct 
 from the Lord in these days as well as in olden times, when 
 the New TestaJiicnt spoke of such things ? We are told that 
 in the last days we shall see visions and dream dreams. 
 
 When I was almost of age, I became very much cast down 
 and depressed, and was possessed with the thought that I 
 had not long to live ; that I would soon pass from earth to 
 groat eternity. I knew I was not prepared, which convic- 
 tion added to my distress, and my feelings were indescribable. 
 One night, during this time, I had the following dream, one 
 which I think was from the Lord. I saw the Saviour of the 
 world , who stood near me, and said to me, " You expect to 
 die soon, but you ^^:i\[ not; you will join the Methodist 
 church before you die. Be thou faithful till death, and thou 
 shalt have a crown of life."* I became quite alarmed and 
 was in great distress, dnd thought my last hour had come. 
 I remained thus for awhile, but alas ! for poor human nature, 
 my sad thoughts soon left me; I went on in my wicked 
 course. 
 
 Now, some persons may say, that was the reason you 
 joined the Methodist church; but I assure you I did not 
 think of the dream until some time afterwards. I suspect if 
 I had thought of it at that time I would have joined more 
 willingly, if possible, than 1 did. This dream seems to me 
 
A DREAM OF HEAVEN. 155 
 
 very strange, unless we consider it as coming directly from 
 God. 
 
 Many years ago, the summer my father died, I had rup- 
 tured a blood vessel, and was quite weak for some time. 
 While in that condition I often felt the Lord jDrecious to my 
 soul. But let me tell you first of something which happened 
 years before this, that might have had something to do in 
 bringing about the sweet vision I had at that time. 
 
 When 1 first joined the church some of my relatives were 
 much surprised and mortified. There was one who appeared 
 more so than the others ; who once told me, in the presence 
 of several others, that I had acted shamefully, disgracing the 
 whole family ; that if I ever got to heaven, where my mother 
 was, she would not recognize or acknowledge me as her son. 
 This distressed me very much, more than language can tell. 
 
 Many years after, I had the following dream: My hour of 
 death had come — the last hour of my stay upon earth. I 
 bade farewell to all present, wife and children, and others, 
 and I thought my haj^py spirit took its flight for the eternal 
 world. At last I thought I entered the Jerusalem above — the 
 eternal home of the ransomed of the Lord. The golden 
 gates being thrown open, I saw the Everlasting Father on 
 the throne with the Son and Holy Spirit. I fell prostrate, 
 and after a while I heard a voice from the throne, which 
 said, " Show him his name ;" and I saw written in golden 
 letters, "LUCIUS BELLINGER, a sinner saved by grace." 
 Then I heard a holy song in the palace of the Eternal, " glory 
 be to God ! the dead is alive, the lost is found, and the prod- 
 igal has come home to his Father. Welcome home to heaven 
 brother." And then I heard a voice from the throne again! 
 " go, crown him now ;" and then a sj^irit came and bound my 
 head with a wreath of glory. And still the song went on, 
 *' glory to the Lord ! the dead is alive and the lost is found, 
 and the prodigal has returned. Welcome home to heaven ! 
 brother," And on the left hand, I heard the rustling of 
 wings ; the sound came nearer still — it came up to me. The 
 wings were folded upon the breast, and the spirit stooped 
 down and kissed me on the left cheek, and a voice spoke, 
 " Welcome home to heaven ! my Methodist son ; I am so glad 
 
156 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 to HOC you. 1 was your mother, my son, in yonder world ; 1 
 have been your guardian angel ever since I died. Weleomo 
 home! my son." And once again that holy Hong wan heard, 
 •'glory bo to God! the dead is alive, the lost is found, and 
 the prodigal has come home to his Father. Welcome home 
 to heaven ! brother." 
 
 I -vvoke up transported with pleasure, and I wished for 
 awhile, very much to go to heaven, to see that mother at 
 once. I love to think of that dream more than all the man}^ 
 I have had. O, my blessed Saviour, I thank thee even to this 
 day for that blessed vision of the night. O, that my mother 
 may be the first of the ransomed of earth to welcome mo 
 upon the banks of eternal deliverance. 
 
 Some sixteen years ago last fall, I think, my wife paid a 
 visit to some of her relatives in Greorgia, and w^as absent sev- 
 eral wrecks. Before she told me " good-bye," she said she 
 had a request to make, and I must grant it before I knew 
 what it was. I had no idea what it could be, but I told her I 
 would do so. She then told me that she wished me to stay 
 at home until her return ; I must have no appointments, and 
 must not visit my neighbors. I told her I had appointments 
 out already. -She said I must not fill them. She wanted 
 me to do this, that 1 might form some idea of how she felt 
 during my absence ; she wanted me to be situated only once, 
 as she was so very often. My word was out, and I had to 
 stand to it. I faced the fire, but O, what a cross I found 
 that promise. It was a time never to be forgotten. The 
 War Preacher at home, and good meetings going on within 
 reach, none of which he could attend. The sound of the 
 raging battle, the shouting of the captives, the waving of 
 the flags not far off, and the preacher at home, like the war 
 horse tied to the stake, while the great battle is being 
 fought before him ! The preacher, kept at home by his 
 promise, longed for one day of freedom, that he might strike 
 one brave blow by the side of Brothers Kirkland, Mouzon, 
 Eaysor, Yarn and others; but it could not be. I hope I may 
 never be so situated again. When my wife returned, and 
 found out what a cross it had been, she said she was sorry 
 she had made the request. 
 
TPIE RESURRECTION BODY. 157 
 
 While I was passing through that great trial I became 
 cast down and depressed ; I was in the depth of tho, valley. 
 One night I had the following dream : Two very beautiful 
 golden winged spirits, in the bright robes of immortality 
 stood by my side. One of them touched me and roused me 
 up, and said, " Brother, I have come to show you your res- 
 urrection body." I looked, and very near me was one of the 
 most noble and sublime forms that the eye of imagination 
 had ever witnessed. I was transported with delight. I was 
 told that when I rose from the grave that was to be the body 
 I was to have. I asked one of the spirits who he was. He 
 said he was my brother AViliiam, who died when he was a 
 little boy. He smiled on me so kindly, and told me that my 
 Father in heaven had sent him to comfort me, and to show 
 me my resurrection body. I asked him if he meant m}^ 
 earthly father. He said no, he did not mean him, though 
 he left him in heaven ; that he meant my Heavenly Father. 
 During all this time the other spirit said nothing; but every 
 now and then she smiled sweetly, and shook her golden 
 locks, and looked on me lovingly with her blue eyes. I said, 
 '' Brother, who is that by your side ?" He said it was my 
 sister Eebecca. I thought she looked a little sad, as she 
 said, " O, brother Lucius, have you forgotten me ?" I re- 
 plied, " O, no, I have never forgotten j^ou." She then bent 
 over and gave me a sweet kiss ; and both said that my Heav- 
 enly Father had sent them to comfort me, and that my 
 earthly father, too, was in heaven. 
 
 Many years ago I was at a meeting in the bounds of the 
 Barnwell circuit. We had a gracious time. On Sunday 
 night I staj^ed at a good brother's house. Some time ^fter 
 I had lain down, 1 dreamed that we had a very fine time the 
 next day ; that a gentleman whom I thought much of, had 
 knelt for prayer, and before I got through preaching, (I re- 
 membered what I was speaking about) a voice near by my 
 side said, '' Mind you, that is for the Major." I got very 
 happy, and shouted aloud in my sleep, and was roused up by 
 the brother, in the next room, calling to me and requesting 
 me to stop, as I was making a great noise and disturbing 
 him and his wife. ' I told them in the morning why I had 
 
158 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 rejoiced bo, and that 1 l)elieved finiil}' it Avoidd como to pass. 
 I told them I remembered how I finished my sermon, and 
 the voice said, " .^^illd, tliat's for the Major;" and I expected 
 him to come up. The good brother looked as if he did not 
 place much confidence in it. AVo went to the church and 
 vro had a gracious season in pi-ayer meeting, at the close of 
 which he came to me and remarked, he believed then it 
 would come to pass. AVhat say you to that, friends? Our 
 faith had now united in the same thing. 
 
 Before leaving the house I told him, that the night before I 
 wa^J standing on a step when the man knelt down. I preach- 
 ed the sermon. The good Spirit was present, and mourners 
 were called up. I was standing in the altar waiting for 
 them ; the man had not yet come up, but I w^as expecting 
 him. I turned and went and stood on the steps of the pulpit 
 as if going in ; my hand was on the door. I turned round 
 and looked at the man I had seen the night before. The 
 Major then came up and knelt for prayer — his wife with 
 him. The preacher was cut loose from his moorings, and 
 lost all self-control. I wish brother James Ilutto and his 
 wife were now alive to tell you that it was at their house I 
 had the dream. 
 
 My father never heard me preach but once, and^ that ser- 
 mon I had preached to him years before, while asleep. I 
 once dreamed that my father came to me as I was going in, 
 or coming out of the pulpit, and said to me, " My son, from 
 what are you going to preach," or "what have you preached 
 from ?" I replied, from Psalm xciv, 16. He asked me how 
 I had managed, or how I was going to do it. I told him how, 
 and he replied, it was better than he had expected, and that 
 he would like to hear it again. Some years after I preached 
 my first and only sermon before him — using the same text. 
 
 Perhaps there are few persons who are more fond of sing- 
 ing than I am, yet I cannot raise a tune myself. I try very 
 often, though I do not know long, from short, metre. My 
 wife told me, that one night she heard me calling up mourn- 
 ers ; I would exhort awhile, and sing awhile, and then speak 
 as if some persons were present, telling them I was glad to 
 to see them, that I had been praying for them a long time ; 
 
PREACHING WHILE ASLEEP. 159 
 
 and speaking to others, would say, " you had better not 
 strive against the Spirit — he may not always bear with you." 
 She said she thought I was making the song as I went along, 
 and was singing correctly to the tune of, " I want my friends 
 to go with me." 
 
 Some very amusing things have happened in connection 
 with the parson's preaching and becoming very happy while 
 asleep. I dreamed once I was holding forth from Psalm 
 xlii, 11, to about thirty persons. I must have got along bet- 
 ter than when awake, for there was a great impression made. 
 I was much excited, and praised the Lord aloud. My wife 
 woke me up and said it was time to stop, that I ought to be 
 ashamed of myself, for I had shouted and clapped my hands 
 and made so great a noise that I had brought the dogs from 
 the servants' quarter ; and they were barking and running 
 around the house in full cry, and had come to the back door 
 and were trying to get in. I then had a hearty laugh at it 
 myself. 
 
 Please bear with me till I tell you of one more amusing 
 circumstance. The Strange Preacher, I am told, before 
 beginning to hold forth when asleep, seems to be in great 
 pain, groaning out aloud, and not long after begins to shout 
 and clap his hands. When at a house for the first time I 
 generally tell the friends not to be alarmed, should they hear 
 a noise in my room. Some years ago, on the Cooper river 
 circuit, I was at a friend's house, where I was told next 
 morning, by some persons who occupied a room near mine, 
 that some time after midnight they were aroused up by a 
 noise in my room ; that I groaned aloud and appeared to be 
 in great pain — causing them to think I was sick. They 
 opened the door and listened ; the distressing sounds were 
 still heard and they became very much alarmed, and were 
 going to wake the others and send for a doctor, as they 
 thought I was in the last extremity. But suddenly a great 
 change came. I began to clap my hands and cry out, 
 " Farewell world, I'm bound for the kingdom ;" and then to 
 sing " I want to live a Christian here, I want to die a-shout- 
 ing." They then concluded to let the War Preacher alone. 
 
LEAF THE TWENTY- FT FT II. 
 
 REMARKABLE PRESENTIMENTS WlllCir CAME TO PASS. 
 
 Wluxt do you think, 1113" friends, of those strong impres- 
 sions which some persons have, and Avhicli come to pass? 
 From what source do they come? I believe, at times, they 
 are direct from the Lord, who thus gives us a warning of 
 wliat is to take place. Let me mention some of the impres- 
 sions I have had, which afterwards came to pass. 
 
 What I am now going to relate, happened some forty 
 years ago. It was in my most reckless days — when madly 
 rusliing to ruin, as the war-horse does into battle, without 
 believing it when told of it by others. I became suddenly 
 impressed that I had to preach before I died. The feeling 
 was strong upon me. A member of our church was then 
 with me ; and I expect, if still alive, he would testify to what 
 I am going to tell. I took a pen and ink, and, as seriously as 
 if I was making my last will, wrote down that I would have 
 to preach in after-life — there was no mistake of it. I men- 
 tioned the name of one church particularly — Hej)hzibah. I 
 also stated that I would often hold prayer-meeting in Pino 
 Grove church, and signed my name, and wrote the date. I 
 then gave it to him, and charged him to keep it ; that we 
 would live to see it come to pass. lie seemed much struck, 
 and would often allude to it. The paper was lost ; but it all 
 came to pass more than thirty years ago. 
 
 I sometimes think, when the thought of religion is farthest 
 from our minds, serious thoughts will suddenly possess us ; 
 and the Lord will impress us with a picture of our future 
 lives, which will be sure to come to pass. When I was a 
 wicked young man, I was once writing to a person for whom 
 I had a high regard, and concluded the letter with this 
 solemn remark — I had not thought of it before; " If we ever 
 meet again in this world, you will find me in the pulpit, 
 preaching the gospel, and on my way to heaven." Some 
 twenty years after, and while I was in the pulpit preaching, 
 
death's foretold. 161 
 
 that person came into the church. These things seem re- 
 markable to me. What do you think of them? From 
 whence do they come ? Has the Lord nothing to do with 
 them ? 
 
 You must have noticed in these Stray Leaves, that some- 
 times I have been so strongly convinced of some things, as 
 to speak of them beforehand. I have asserted that I believed 
 such a person would join the church, or get religion, and it 
 came to pass afterwards. After I had been jDreaching several 
 years, I was, once present at a Baptist meeting, not fifty 
 miles from my home. It was Saturday. I exhorted for 
 them ; and I became convinced that there was one person 
 present in the small assembly, who had heard a sermon for the 
 last time in that church — that before the preacher returned 
 that day four weeks, that individual would be dead, and the 
 preacher would preach the funeral sermon, I spoke of it in 
 the pulpit, and called on the friends to bear testimony. A 
 member of the the church then present died, and the funeral 
 sermon was preached at the next appointment. 
 
 At a protracted meeting on the Barnwell circuit, was an 
 old gentleman whom I had long known, who seemed to be 
 interested in the services. I went to him, and offered to 
 pray with him ; and he knelt at his seat. I was afterwards 
 convinced that we would never meet again on earth ; and 
 that he had attended his last meeting at that place. I bade 
 him farewell ; and told him it was our last meeting in this 
 life. I never saw him again ; for in a few v/eeks he was 
 called to eternity. 
 
 I will mention one more event, which I think very re- 
 markable. I do not know how to account for it, unless it 
 was a visitation from the Holy One of Israel. I was once 
 preaching, and when near the close, became suddenly im- 
 pressed with a sad thought. I told the congregation, if 
 any wished to, they might write down Avhat I was about 
 to tell them, so as to refer to it if they desired. I then 
 remarked, that there was a person present who would never 
 hear me again ; and that the Spirit was then striving with 
 that person for the last time ; that the person expected to 
 attend such a camp-meeting, but would not go ; but would 
 
162 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 ■ 
 
 be Hooii called to die, luid would nend for either myself or 
 another preiielier. 1 recalled those words; hut said that the 
 friends would send for me w^ithout that person knowing it ; 
 that I would sot out, but the person would die before I got 
 there. That person was resolved to go to the camp-meeting, 
 that it might be j^roved that the Strange Preacher had made 
 a mistake for once; but, alas! sickness and death soon came. 
 The sands of life had nearly run out ; but the person told a 
 relative not to send for me. I was sent for, however, without 
 the dying one knowing it ; and I started — but'on my way I 
 met a gentleman, who told me it was too late. I turned 
 back. How solemn and sad ! Thus I feel now, while think- 
 ing of that remarkable occurrence. 
 
 Some weeks after this, a member of another church told 
 me, he wa»s present that day when I made the prediction^ 
 and that it had come to pass ; and that it had made quite an 
 impression — persons were speaking of it. He expected there 
 would be a revival at the meeting which was soon to take 
 place. It was so, and it was perhaps the best time we ever 
 had at that church. 
 
 These presentiments seem very remarkable to me ; and I 
 believe they were from the Lord. AYhat do you think ? 
 
LEAF THE TWEXTY-SIXTH. 
 
 THE STRANGE PREACHER JRYING HIS BOB, 
 
 Brother preacher, did yon ever fish for an old trout ? You 
 often saw him playing around your hook, coming quite near, 
 but he would not take hold. He was a large one ; and you 
 tried him often and long — in hot and cool weather — when 
 the sun was very bright, and when it was behind a cloud — 
 when the wind Vas blowing, and when everything was calm. 
 But all in vain ; you never got a bite, and became very much 
 discouraged — quite worn out. You then changed your bait, 
 and tried first one kind, and then another ; but still all in 
 vain. You were then at your wit's end, and thought you 
 might as well strike your flag and quit, and never try the 
 old trout again. One day, you spoke of your bad luck to a 
 friend, who asked if you had ever tried your bob. You re- 
 plied, no. He said, that sometimes you could succeed with 
 that, when you had failed with everything else. So you re- 
 solved to make another effort. You tried your bob ; and the 
 first thing you knew, the old trout struck at it, and you 
 pulled him out. He was a very large one. How you re- 
 joiced. It was more than enough for your family, and you 
 sent some of it to a neighbor. 
 
 Brother preacher, were you ever fishing spiritually ? Had 
 you been endeavoring for weeks and for years, with the help 
 of the Lord, to persuade some person to yield to be saved — 
 to embrace the offer of the gospel, but all in vain ; till you 
 almost despaired of ever seeing him embrace religion ? But 
 at last you thought of some subject which you had never 
 used when he Avas present. You made another effort ; the 
 Lord was with you, and the desire of your heart was granted. 
 You had the pleasure of seeing him come forward and join 
 the church. So it has often been, through the help of the 
 blessed Spirit, with the Wandering Arab, when calling sin- 
 ners to repentance. 
 
 Many years ago, between the Savannah and Santee rivers, 
 
164 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 there war a man, who was very wicked ami profane — a leader 
 of others in the ways of transgrension. Jla was also very 
 fond of his glass, and at times got very drunk. Eut'^this 
 m.an, as far gone in sin as he was, had a mother who I hoped 
 was in heaven, a brother for whom I had a high regard — a 
 class-leader — and a pious wife, who often asked me to pray 
 for him, and to try to get him out on the Lord's side. I be- 
 came very desirous to see him embrace religion ; and, with 
 several others, preached near where he lived, for several 
 years ; but all in vain. I became discouraged, and felt like 
 giving him up; but hope whispered, "Try again." And for 
 the sake of his pious wife and brother, I still- endeavored to 
 reach his heart. I sometimes said to myself, in some inter- 
 esting meeting, where the Spirit is poured out, he will at last 
 yield ; the time will come when his heart will be reached, 
 and he will give up. But for years, I hoped and wished in 
 vain ; and one day I sent him word that " I had lost all ex- 
 pectation of ever seeing him on the Lord's side. I had fished 
 for him for years, with all kinds of bait, but in vain ; and I 
 thought I would quit, and never try him again ; — that I 
 sometimes had silver fish on my hook, but he w^ould not bite • 
 then I had tried a nice little perch, but all in vain ; and then 
 again very small minnows, but still all in vain ; that I even 
 used dead bait, but all in vain : and that I was at a loss, and 
 thought I would give it up, and never try again." I under- 
 stood that when he received my message, he laughed heartily, 
 and returned the following message — '■ Tell the parson not to 
 despair, not to give up ; he has never fished with his bob yet ; 
 to try that the next time, for some old trout can never be 
 caught except with a bob." I did not at first know what he 
 meant; but at last concluded that I knew what it was. I 
 thought, perhaps, I had never given the subject a fair trial, 
 at least for a long time. So I resolved to try my bob the 
 first good chance I had. 
 
 A two days' meeting was appointed, w^here I expected him 
 to be. I praj^ed much for the presence of the Lord to be 
 granted us, and for that person particularly. We had a 
 glorious revival ; the Spirit of the Lord was graciously poured 
 out. The meeting was protracted ; several joined, and mourn- 
 
HOW AN OLD SINNER WAS CAUGHT. 165 
 
 ers crowded the altar. It was, I think, the best meetmg we 
 ever had there. I preached one day. I said, " the Lord 
 helping me, I Tvill try my bob now." I had concluded he 
 meant, that as he was fond of his glass, I should speak of 
 some of the effects of intemperance, and then of the happy 
 change which takes place, when one addicted to it comes out 
 on the Lord's side. So that day, in the course of my remarks, 
 I enlarged upon the ruinous eifects of strong drink upon soul 
 and body — that without repentance the intemperate man 
 was doomed to hell. I then spoke of the happy change 
 which takes place when the heart is reached by the Holy 
 Spirit — when one has been converted, and has become a new 
 creature in Christ Jesus. I spoke of the first time that such 
 a man would meet his wife after his conversion, and what a 
 time of rejoicing they would have ; and I represented them 
 as travelling together through this troublesome world to- 
 ward Liimanuel's land. As I was passing through this part 
 of the discourse, the man alluded to turned to a friend, a 
 pious member of the Baptist church, and, with tears in his 
 eyes, said in a whisper, " The parson is trying his bob now ; 
 I will have to give up." He joined the church that day. 
 The crowd was so great, that those at a distance could not 
 see who came up. Two ladies were standing together, and 
 one asked, w^ho that was who joined the church ; and the 
 
 other replied, she knew it was Mr. , by the w^ay the 
 
 preacher said " Farewell world ! " And so it was. The joy 
 of that, happy wife, who had been praying so long for her 
 husband, cannot be depicted, when the great wish of her 
 heart was at last granted. He became soundly converted, 
 and was a class-leader afterwards. 
 
 I have more than once heard him, in love-feast, speak of 
 the message I sent him, and the answer he returned, and 
 what he said that day to a friend sitting near — he could stand 
 it no longer, for the parson was trying his bob. Many of 
 his friends were much surprised ; but he showed them he 
 was truly in earnest, by the strong stand which he took. 
 He was a warm and zealous member, ready at any time to 
 take up his cross. I have been with him at several meetings. 
 He believed in heart-felt religion, and often rejoiced aloud. 
 
IGG STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 I have often since then, "tried my bob," sonictimes, how. 
 ever, unsuccessfully. The old trout sometimes becomes frii^ht- 
 ened, and stands at a distance, or darts rapidly away. I was 
 once at a meeting in Florida, when I was describing the case 
 of a young man who began life under very favorable auspices. 
 lie was happily married, and for years everything went on 
 smoothly. His wife loved the Lord, and was on her way to 
 heaven ; but in time he began to frequent the grog-shop, and 
 after a while became quite dissipated, and treated his wife 
 very cruelly — causing her, at times, to run for dear life, in 
 the still hours of night. I represented that man as once 
 going to church, where his heart was reached, and he be- 
 came powerfully convicted, and was happily converted, and 
 went home a changed man ; and I spoke of the meeting be- 
 tween him and his wife. A man was present who had thus 
 treated his wife ; and she too was there, and was a member 
 of the Baptist church. He afterwards sent me word that I 
 had spoken the truth ; and that, with the help of the Lord, 
 he was resolved to change his course ; and requested me to 
 pray for him, and hoi)ed to meet me in heaven ; and said 
 that he would join his wife's church. His friends were much 
 surprised. 
 
 I was once at a meeting at Little Swamp, where we were 
 enjoying a very gracious revival. I was trying my bob 
 again. There was a man present who had travelled far on 
 the road to destruction, who said to a friend at his side — 
 " Squire, don't you think the parson is fishing for me ?" The 
 reply was, "Yes, I think he is," He said with a smile, "But 
 he will not catch me." I went on for some time ; when the 
 same question was repeated, and the same reply given. This 
 continued for some time ; but after a w^hile the Squire heard 
 nothing more from his friend. He looked at him — he was 
 weeping; and the Squire then said to himself, "I think he 
 will catch you." And so it turned out. That evening he 
 joined the church, and never stopped till he got the blessing. 
 He was converted while -at work. A faithful member of the 
 church was present to rejoice with him in the great change' 
 which had taken place. 
 
 I have been thus often blessed while speaking of the great 
 
RUNNING FROM THE ^* BOB." 167 
 
 change which takes place in the most dissipated persons. 
 I was once at a meeting in Florida where I enjoyed myself 
 much. It was a gracious season in that land of flowers. On 
 Saturday night the church was crowded, and the Lord was 
 graciously present. I made a strong effort to reach the 
 backslider's heart through grace. The sermon was finished, 
 a soul stirring hymn was being sung, and as usual I was 
 passing through the crowd shaking hands. I paused near a 
 bench on which several gentlemen were seated. They seemed 
 so confused I did not offer to shake hands with them. The 
 next day a brother told me, that the night before, while re- 
 turning from church, he overheard some gentlemen in con- 
 versation, when one said to another, " AVell, Colonel, I was 
 sorry for you to-night, w^ien the preacher was sj^eaking 
 about backsliders — your picture was well drawn." '' Yes," 
 said the others, " to the life, all that was lacking was the 
 name." " And," said the other, " I expected him to call it 
 out. What Avould you have done, Colonel, if, when he paused 
 where we were sitting, he had offered to shake hands?" "I 
 would have jumped out the open window." This gives you 
 some idea of the influence which prevailed. 
 
 The next day the large church was filled to overflowing. 
 The Judge and the member of Congress were present, and 
 there was a dense mass of closely packed people. Church 
 members seemed deeply interested, and I thought much 
 prayer was being offered to the throne of heavenly grace. 
 I felt the divine afiiatus upon me. The Holy Spirit was 
 preaching through a very unworthy instrument. The con- 
 gregation seemed much excited, and I noticed that one of 
 those honorable gentlemen was much affected. I sat down. 
 Some brother began to sing a favorite song, " The warfare is 
 over." Several joined him; the Strange Preacher could not 
 stand it ; h. was on his feet at once, and was passing through 
 the crowd to speak to the gentleman mentioned above ; but 
 he, with others, could not stand the fire, and they left. A 
 preacher requested them to come back — we would not hurt 
 them. Sometimes the trout will not strike at the bob, but 
 will look at it and dart oft\ 
 
LEAF THE TWENTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 THE HEROES OF THE OLD WALTERBORO CIRCUIT. 
 
 In writing these scenes of the past, I liave several times 
 thought I ought to say something of my old circuit, and all 
 the principal brethren in it, when I joined the church, and 
 for some time after. At times when engaged thinking of 
 by-gone years, I have almost fancied I could hear voices 
 from the other side of the flood, saying, "Brother Bellinger, 
 is it possible, in reviewing your past life, that you are going 
 to say nothing about the friends you loved on the old Wal- 
 terboro circuit, who have entered into rest, and who hope to 
 welcome you and the rest of the old companions still behind, 
 when you come ?" It "seemed to me that I could almost hear 
 voices of loved ones gone speaking to me from many places 
 — from Pine Grove, Green Pond, Ebenezer, Carmel, St. Johns, 
 Little Swamp, Mizpah, and all around the old bounds. It 
 has been thus with me while writing of the past, and I will 
 put it off no longer. 
 
 O, my much loved friends of the old circuit, gone to heaven, 
 I often think of you and of the others still left behind in this 
 vale of tears. I hope you have not forgotten ns here below, 
 and that you will meet us on the banks of eternal deliver- 
 ance, when our warfare is over, and we are called home. I 
 know I cannot do justice to the dead or living ; but I hope my 
 friends will take the will for the deed, and if something is left 
 out which should have been mentioned, in the' opinion of 
 some, remember that there is not room to mention all par- 
 ticulars. 
 
 Where shall I begin ? If you will leave it to me, I will 
 begin at Pine Grove. Much loved old place, how can I for- 
 get thee? Brother Aaron Smith was the class-leader; a 
 blessed man of God ; one of the old Methodists in dress and 
 manners ; a man of few words, but always to the point. How 
 well I remember him and his whole-souled wife. AV^hat pleas- 
 ant hours I have often spent with them. And that saint of 
 
PINE GEOVE AND GREEN POND. 169 
 
 the Lord, Brother Steadlj. and others; and Brother Muse, 
 who was taken into fall connection in the church on the 
 same day with me, by Brother Dunwody, and who still 
 lives, and I hope is on his way to the better land. I cannot 
 forget old Pine Grove ; for I was treated with much kind- 
 ness by the members of the church there. They bore with 
 my weakness and my unworthiness. We often enjoyed our- 
 selves much in class and prayer meetings. Sometimes there 
 were only a few present ; but Brothers Smith and Steadly, 
 and a few others, would always be sure to be there. But 
 several of my old Pine Grove friends have gone to the better 
 land above. Many years ago. Brother Eason Smith went 
 home. A good brother told me, that not long before he left 
 ns, he was with him at a prayer-meeting — that he was very 
 happy, and left singing that old song — 
 
 " Here we go rejoicing home, 
 From the banquet of perfume." 
 
 Sister Smith, Brother Steadly, and others, have long since 
 gone. Happy dead ! ye have long been removed from the 
 sorrows and troubles of this life. Your warfare is over. You 
 rest from your labor, in the Paradise above. For many 
 years, when the congregation worshipped elsewhere, I sel- 
 dom passed the church without oifering prayer to the Lord, 
 and imploring his protection for myself and the circuit. 
 
 Old Green Pond ! thou art not forgotten by me. The old 
 church has long been replaced by a new one. Camp-meet- 
 ings were often held there in the olden time — at one of 
 which I was licensed to preach. Brother Allen Williams, 
 father the Eev. P. A. M. Williams, was the class-leader — a 
 man of strong faith and confidence in the Lord, who believed 
 in a heart-felt religion. Brother Thomas Eaysor — the most 
 beloved of all my friends — had his membership there several 
 years before I joined the church. Old Green Pond ! what 
 immortal memories dost thou recall to my mind ! what gra- 
 cious seasons we often had there ! I remember a time when 
 I went out in the crowd, to a gentleman of respectable 
 standing, Mr. Spell, and spoke to him of religion. He joined 
 the church at that meeting, and some years after was called 
 11 
 
170 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 to the joys of heaven. A few hours before his death, ho told 
 u friend to say to me, for him, that he was going to glory, 
 and hoped I would meet him there,; that he thanked me for 
 going to him that day, for it was the means of bringing him 
 to the Lord. The most of the old members of Green Pond 
 are gone to the sweet fields of Eden, on the oflier side of the 
 flood. I remember a good camp-meeting there many years 
 ago, when a Mr, Johnson and Colonel John Ilaysor joined 
 the church. 1 recollect the text the Strange Preacher took, 
 *' He that goeth forth weeping, bearing precious seed, shall 
 doubtless return again rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with 
 him." Mr. Johnson had fallen out with Brother Williams, 
 years before. Brother W. had often tried to make it up with 
 him, but never could succeed ; but after he had been to the 
 altar, he went to Brother W., and made it up with him, and 
 requested him to pray for him. He was soon after con- 
 verted. Sister Spell, unless I am mistaken, is the only one 
 of the old Green Pond members left, who were in the church 
 when I joined. 
 
 Ebenezer. There are still a few names left here of the old 
 members. Brothers Alfred Eaysor — the old class-leader, 
 Benjamin Eisher, Sley, and Martin Jaques — I have long 
 known, long respected them. The devil has tried hard to 
 win them back to the world ; but, by the help of the Lord, 
 they have so far held out faithful, and fought the good fight 
 of faith ; and I hope w^ill in the end win eternal life. Bro- 
 ther Eisher and his family have ever been very kind and 
 true friends of mine throughout my Christian life ; and I 
 have always felt very glad to meet, and sorry to leave, them. 
 May our blessed Lord save them all in his heavenly king- 
 dom, for Jesus' sake. Amen. 
 
 Eehoboth. I have often enjoyed myself at the old churcli, 
 for which I thank the Lord. Brothers Philip Jaques, Aker- 
 man, and Dandridge w^ere here. They were whole-souled, 
 thorough-going, pious men of Israel, and enjoyed much of 
 religion. It was a great pleasure for me to see them in the 
 congregation, in the olden times ; for I knew that they 
 prayed for me when I was trying to preach. 
 
 Sheridan's Chapel. Here there w^as a yerj small member- 
 
AND ISLAND CREEK. 171 
 
 ship when I first preached to them. There were two bro- 
 thers, named Johnson, who were good and true old-time 
 Methodists, in dress and manners. They are both gone to 
 the good world, I hope. Here, too, was that good man, Bro- 
 ther Abram Willis, who is respected by all who know him ; 
 his house has been a home for preachers for more than 
 thirty years. He is a modest man, of quiet, gentle manners, 
 but full of the Holy Ghost and of faith. He was still alive, 
 when last heard from — with his back to the world, and his 
 face to the Jerusalem above. I have often enjoyed myself 
 much with Brother Willis ; and I hope to meet all the family 
 in heaven. 
 
 Dear old Island Creek ! Louis O'Brien — " clarum et ven- 
 erabile nomen." Departed brother, all hail! Thou art gone 
 to thy reward, and thy sainted wife with thee. What a 
 home for the preacher was thy house in the olden times ! I 
 loved much to hear him tell of the old ministers who tra- 
 velled in those parts, when he was a young man first settled 
 in life — that they went from house to house with their 
 saddle-bags ; and how, when they preached, at times the 
 power of the Holy Spirit would come down on the congre- 
 gation, and sinners would fall right and left, like men shot 
 through the heart, and remain motionless for a long time, 
 and then rise and praise the Lord aloud for his pardoning 
 grace. But Uncle Louis, many years ago, went safe to the 
 realms above ; and there went his eldest son — a blessed man 
 of faith and prayer. The last time I ever saw him was at 
 Island Creek, and there was only one other present ; but we 
 had a happy time together ; and I preached to the two per- 
 sons. The subject was — " The ways of Zion mourn, because 
 none come to her solemn feasts." I remember another day 
 at Island Creek, in the olden times. The service was over. 
 I said I would like to have night-meeting there, if the 
 friends wished it. Brother Eobinson got up, and said, that 
 was not a good place for night-meeting ; but if I would come 
 to Jones's Swamp, they would give me a congregation — but 
 that there was no house to preach in. I gave out the meet- 
 ing ; a great revival broke out, and I went back there from 
 Green Pond on Monday. I was on the circuit then in Bro- 
 
1 / 2 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 thcr Moore's place. A society was formed and a church 
 built, which was called Mount Carmel. A camp-ground was 
 afterwardn established at the same place; and I' donot re- 
 member ever having been there once in near thirty years, 
 but that the Lord met with us, and we rejoiced in heavenly 
 ])laces in Christ Jesus, and felt that we were sitting under 
 the droppings of the sanctuary. Brothers Blox, Robinson, 
 and Blocker were yet alive when last heard from — and were 
 whole-souled men, full of the Holy Ghost and of power. I 
 always was glad to see them in the congregation. They yet 
 stand as they did in the olden times, as witnesses for Jesus, 
 who were loved of iiim, and were bound for heaven. 
 
 O, my soul ! praise the Lord that my poor labors have been 
 so often blessed at Mount Carmel. There was my much- 
 respected friend, Brother Linder, who still lives to meet me 
 when I go there, and to treat me with much kindness. 
 There, too, was Brother Beach, at whose house I always 
 felt at home. And those holy women of the Lord at Mount 
 Carmel — Sisters Eobinson, Beach, Blocker, and others, how 
 I loved to shake hands with them, and hear them sing the 
 old songs of Zion ! 
 
 In by-gone years, I sometimes dreamed of Island Creek 
 and Mount Carmel. I remember many years ago, there was 
 a two days' meeting held at the two churches ; and I stopped 
 all night at St. John's, and dreamed that I had a good meet- 
 ing where I was going, and twelve persons joined the church 
 — but I did not mention it till the meeting was over. We 
 divided the time between the two churches ; and on Sunday, 
 at Island Creek, the Holy Spirit was graciously present, and 
 five persons joined. We had night-meeting at Carmel. A 
 large congregation was present, and it was a time of much 
 rejoicing ; and seven persons joined — five in the morning, 
 and seven at night — the number was made up. I have had 
 many a weary ride to old Carmel — nearly forty miles from 
 my home, and a part of the way a very bad road to travel — 
 but I never went there without feeling glad that I had 
 gone. 
 
 St. John's. The worthy class-leader was still alive when 
 last heard from — Brother Joseph Risher, " an Israelite in 
 
173 
 
 whom there is no guile." I have never met him once in 
 thirty years, but that I was greeted with a smile and a 
 friendl}^ shake of the hand, that went to my heart. If he 
 was not one of the heroes of the Walterboro circuit, then 
 there were none. Whenever I went there, if my faith was 
 strong, it became stronger; if my spirits were good, they 
 became better ; if my head was aching, the pain would soon 
 soon leave me ; if I was cast down and sad of heart, and felt 
 that I was very low down in the valley, when I had been 
 welcomed with kind words and smiles of love by himself and 
 his interesting family, I would soon find that a change for 
 the better was coming over my whole mature ; and then, 
 when they sung some of my much-loved songs, my sad feel- 
 ings would leave me, and the Strange Preacher would clap 
 his hands, and cry out, " Farewell world ! I'm bound for the 
 kingdom." ■ AVhat a sweet oasis in this desert world, to the 
 "Wandering Arab, is Brother Joseph Eisher's home. He is 
 truly the hero of St. John's. 
 
 There was another veteran there — a holy man, good and 
 true, who has long since gone to the realms above ; he was 
 a man of few words, silent, grave, serious, thoughtful ; who 
 had been with Jesus, and was loved of him ; a man that the 
 holy angels revered, and whom the devil was obliged to res- 
 pect — Brother Duncan Stewart, another of the heroes of the 
 old circuit. He has left a family behind him, much res- 
 pected. The blood of the time-honored veteran flowing in 
 the veins of his descendants, was freely, like water, poured 
 out — but, alas ! all in vain — for our lost cause. I have some 
 dear friends at St. John's, for whom I often pray. 
 
 Buckhead — much-loved old Buckhead ! Thy glory has 
 departed ; the voice of rejoicing is no longer heard in thy 
 tabernacles ; the voice of the preacher no longer resounds 
 through thy old woods ; the church no longer stands ; the 
 camp-ground is deserted — the place where it once stood, like 
 the Mount Zion of the exiled Israelites, has become at last a 
 ploughed field ; and the corn or cotton now grows on the 
 holy place over which angels loved to hover on their golden 
 wings, and with joy carried the glad tidings to heaven, that 
 the dead was alive, and the lost found. Dear old Buckhead ! 
 
174 STPwAY LEAVES. 
 
 though there is no poet or historian to immortalize thee in 
 undying words, the Strange Preacher, with tears in his eyes, 
 will say something of thy former glory, and thy present 
 desolation, before he goes hence, where he hopes to meet 
 the holy men of old, whose voices were heard in thy sacred 
 precincts. I remember the camp-meetings which I attended 
 there in the days of " auld lang syne." 'Twas there, too 
 where I preached some of my first sermons, more than 
 thirty years ago ; and Brothers Talley, Bass, S. AV. Capers, 
 English, and McPhail, stand before me as large as life, when 
 I think of Biickhead camp-ground, and Brothers McCall, 
 Durant, and Picket, and other immortal names, whose record 
 is on high. I remember how the heroes, from the length 
 and breadth of the Walterboro circuit, with many others, 
 would meet there, and, uniting their strength, bear down on 
 the enemy — winning victories over the powers of hell, and 
 exulting aloud in the God of their salvation. 
 
 I remember one Sunday, at the 11 o'clock service (I sup- 
 pose I had sat up too late the night before), that a minister, 
 whose preaching I admired very much, was in the pulpit, 
 yet, in spite of myself, I became very sleepy. After preach- 
 ing a while, he requested some one to wake me up, as he 
 was going to say something which he wished very much for 
 me to hear. I was at once completely aroused. And at the 
 3 o'clock service, the whole congregation seemed inclined to 
 drowsiness, when Brother Picket got up, and at once roused 
 up the entire crowd, by giving out the whole of a very sin- 
 gular chapter for his text — about the wheels within the 
 wheels, and the eyes in the wheels — and we had a very 
 good meeting. I recollect one night, particularlj" — a gra- 
 cious season it was — the whole congregation seemed much 
 impressed, and the shouts of the redeemed rang through the 
 woods ; many mourners were at the altar, and there were 
 many happy conversions — among them a young man who 
 afterwards became a preacher. Those old deserted camp- 
 grounds of our Conference — Swallow Savannah, Black Swamp, 
 Green Pond, Buckhead, Cane Creek, Goshen Hill, and many 
 others — how sad the Wandering Arab feels at times, while 
 thinking of their former glory, and their present ruinous 
 
OLD CAMP GROUNDS AND BETHEL. 175 
 
 condition ! I wonder if the holy spirits fly over them still, 
 as they did in the olden time ; but I suspect not — there is 
 nothing to interest them there now. I wonder if the spirits 
 of perdition flap their dark wings over those old places as 
 they once did ; I suspect not. I wonder if our much-loved 
 friends, departed and gone to rest, look down from those 
 heavenly battlements now, as they did in those days when 
 the friends left behind worshij^ped there ; I suspect not — for 
 what do immortal spirits care for those old grounds, so 
 changed, and, alas ! for the worse. 
 
 Much-loved old Buckhead ! there was a time when good 
 men and true worshipped in thy holy church. With several 
 others, there was my friend and brother Charles Stewart — 
 one of the heroes of the old circuit, who has long since gone 
 to the green fields of Eden — a friend of the preachers and 
 the church. The more you saw of him, the more you res- 
 pected him ; the more intimate you became, the more you 
 loved him. He might be called the Gains of the Walterboro 
 circuit. " Yale, longe vale," to old Buckhead ! 
 
 Bethel. What name comes first among her departed 
 heroes ? Brother Ulmer, the old preacher, of course. I 
 respected and revered him much — plain, simple, childlike, 
 full of meekness and humility, always sitting on a lower 
 seat than that to which he was entitled. From his long 
 life, he might have been called the Nestor of the old circuit : 
 a man of faith, and hope, and love. It was a great pleasure, 
 which I often enjoyed, to pass a night under his family roof. 
 He had many interesting tales of old times to tell the young 
 preachers. I can fancy I see him now, as he used to sit in 
 his old chair in the warm corner of the chimney, on some 
 cold evening in winter, smoking his pipe, telling of the old 
 preachers — many of whom he had seen and heard ; and as 
 he talked, I listened much pleased; but after a while, his 
 pipe would go out, and the tears would begin to fall, and he 
 would weep like a boy whose mother is dead. I have been 
 at many happy meetings with the old hero of Bethel. But 
 there was another name — a man of holy longings for immor- 
 tality and eternal life — Brother Edward Bryan, the exhorter, 
 the just, the upright Christian — a man lowly and humble, 
 
]76 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 who enjoyed much hourt-folt religion ; who got happy at 
 home, at meetings, and everywhere. I have often been 
 with him when the Lor<l revived his work. The two old 
 heroes of Bethel have long since met in the paradise above, 
 to part no more. , 
 
 Shiloh, of which I have written a number, was in the 
 bounds of the old circuit ; but I do not know if it was always 
 on the plan. Brother Snider was there — a good man, much 
 thought of, much respected. He had a pleasant family; and 
 his house was a good home for the preachers — and I have 
 often enjoyed myself there. His wife, son, and self, I hope, 
 are now in the happy land, far, far away. Brothers Ulmer 
 and Bryan were with me several times at old Shiloh. Those 
 two departed friends labored faithfully on that part of the 
 circuit, and had many friends, both in the church and the 
 world, who respected them much, and often attended their 
 meetings. 
 
 Antioch. This was a small church, near Cruise's Ford, 
 on the Great Saltketcher, which has since been replaced by 
 another, near by the same place. I hope I will never forget 
 the meetings in that old church, with Brothers Ulmer, Yarn, 
 and Bryan. The Lord was often present. Brother AYilliam 
 Yarn was the old class-leader — a pure, humble, heavenly- 
 minded man — who loved the place of prayer, and who has 
 been for years in the paradise above. And there was an- 
 other who succeeded him in that holy office — Brother Godly, 
 whom I thought much of, and who lived near the throne of 
 grace. I do not remember ever having met him, but that 
 he seemed cheerful and happy — ready and waiting for his 
 Master's call to come up higher. I was very sorry when I 
 heard of his death many years ago; but my loss was his 
 eternal gain. 
 
 Salem. That name stands first in bold relief. Dr. Hen- 
 derson — the polished gentleman, the whole-souled friend, 
 the kind host, and the Christian soldier. Departed brother, 
 how well do I remember thee ! and. Oh ! how I mourned 
 over thy violent death I "What glorious times I have seen 
 at the Salem church ! Before the Doctor joined, Brother 
 Yarn and myself had a two days' meeting there. We were 
 
SALEM, PEJ^IEL AND WALTERBORO. 177 
 
 at the breakfast table on Monday, and we were soon to leave 
 for our homes. Dr. H. had not been on speaking terms with 
 a certain member of our church for years. He was pressing 
 us to have another meeting at Salem. Having always been 
 very impulsive, I sometimes risk much by speaking hastily, 
 without the least reflection, hoping and trusting in the Lord, 
 that it will turn out for the best ; but I know I have some- 
 times said what I much regretted afterwards, at other times, 
 though, it seemed to have been owned and blessed of the 
 Lord. Under an impulse, I said to Dr. H., that we would 
 give him a two days' meeting, provided he would make 
 friends with that brother, and forgive and forget. He 
 paused a moment, with a flushed face — oh, what a pause ! 
 and then remarked that he would do so. We then promised 
 him the meeting, and departed. O ! how 1 implored the 
 Lord to meet with and bless us at that place. The set time 
 came, and we went, some fifty miles from home. When we 
 got there, the Doctor told us, he preferred making friends 
 at the altar. They met, and shook hands ; and the brother 
 told me the next morning, he still felt the pressure of Dr. 
 Henderson's hand. We had a meeting of precious remem- 
 brance — the best time I ever saw at old Salem. Some forty 
 persons joined one day ; and it was said by some to have 
 been the best they ever had there. On one occasion, every 
 one present came to the altar to unite in prayer. The last 
 one had made up his mind, as he told a friend, that nothing 
 should induce him to come ; and I was very glad to see him 
 there. 
 
 Peniel. This church, at the place where it then stood, 
 had declined much when I first went there ; but there was 
 still one blessed man of Israel left, who was faithful and true 
 — Brother Lowry. He is of precious memory, full of faith 
 and good works. 
 
 Walterboro. If there was a hero there, I am sorry I have 
 forgotten him. But, my friends, there were some heroines 
 there, whom I think should be mentioned. Sisters Campbell, 
 Pye, and Henderson — pure, holy, heavenly-minded women, 
 who enjoyed much heartfelt religion, and whose names were 
 like precious ointment poured forth. Their whole lives 
 
178 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 were Bpcnt in deeds of Christian charity. Two of them 
 have long been in heaven, the other yet remains to bless the 
 church and the world. 
 
 Sandy Dam. Brother Joel Laras}" — a man among men, a 
 Methodist whom the church loves, and the devil hates — still 
 lives to greet his friends with a smile. He has suffered much 
 in these troublesome times ; but he loves the Lord, and still 
 holds on to his religion, and has a happy home above await- 
 ing his coming. 
 
 Tabernacle. What minister has ever travelled the circuit 
 — what preacher ever lived in it — who does not know who 
 are the heroes of that church? Brother Elsey Kinsey — what 
 recollections of strong, prevailing prayer does that name call 
 to mind — how well he and Brother James Kinsey stood side 
 by side in the good w^ork, eternity will tell. How they ever 
 welcomed the preacher; generally the first to greet him, 
 and help him with his horse ; and to request him to go with 
 them, where they w^ould do all they could to make him com- 
 fortable. There, too, was that good man and true. Brother 
 Padget — a happy soul, bound for the better world. At Taber- 
 nacle, I have seen many glorious meetings. What old-time, 
 Methodist singing I have heard ring through the church 
 and the woods around. That good man of Israel, Brother 
 Padget, has long since gone to the rest which remains for 
 the people of God. The other two are still left to bless the 
 church. 
 
 I remember aji amusing thing which happened to me, 
 nearly thirty years ago — amusing to think of afterwards, 
 but very unpleasant at the time. I was at a two days' 
 meeting, with other brothers ; the house could not hold the 
 congregation, and many remained out. Two of the brothers 
 were sitting behind me, and I was trying to preach. I had 
 not been preaching long, as I thought, when I heard those 
 behind me talking in a low voice. At first, I did not pay 
 much attention to it, though it bothered me. After a little, 
 I thought I could make out a word now and then, though 
 only spoken in a whisper ; and I thought I heard, " it is 
 most time for him to finish." I have always been easily 
 thrown out. and confused ; and being a young preacher then, 
 
CONFUSING THE PEEACHER. 179 
 
 this disturbed me very much. At first, I felt like stoppino-^ 
 and not saying another word ; however, I made a great 
 effort, and went stumbling on for some time. I had almost 
 recovered, and began to hope that I w^ould get through with- 
 out further interruption ; when the talking again began in 
 low whispers. Presently, I was sure I heard these words — 
 " Brother B., you had better stop ; you have been long 
 enough." The distressed preacher then took his seat, feel- 
 ing very much cast down. I did not raise my head for 
 several moments. I was afraid I had been at it more than 
 an hour ; but when I looked at my watch, I found out, to 
 my great surprise, I had not been preaching thirty minutes. 
 I was told afterwards, that the friends had been speaking 
 about something very different, and that they were sorry I 
 had been so disturbed. The Lord bless Tabernacle, and the 
 two heroes left. 
 
 Little Swamp. O ! how well I remember the old church ! 
 what times of rejoicing I have seen there, and what happy 
 seasons I have witnessed there ! I have often felt that the 
 Lord was with his poor servant while preaching his gospel 
 in that small church so close the road, and so near the little 
 pond — generally so full of water in the winter and spring, 
 and so dry in the summer and fall. I remember an interest- 
 ing night-meeting there in the olden time. After the ser- 
 vices commenced, a young man stretched himself at full 
 length on a bench, staring the preacher in the face, with a 
 vacant smile, which interrupted ^him very much, for every 
 time he turned that way he met that gaze. He requested 
 the lounger to sit up ; but he still remained stretched out. 
 After a while, I stop^^ed, and said to him, I thought I could 
 preach a better sermon, with the help of the Lord, if^he 
 would sit up, and entreated him to do so ; when he arose at 
 once. The Holy Spirit helped, the church prayed, and v^e 
 had a very fine meeting; and among the mourners who 
 came up, was that same young man. How often have I re- 
 joiced with the brethren at Little Swamp. The first to be 
 mentioned here is Brother Paul Johnson ; but I do not 
 know as much of him as of many others — for riot long after 
 I joined the church, he moved to Georgia. He was an ex- 
 
180 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 hortcr with us, but became a preacher afterwards. While 
 with U8, he was much respected, and was very useful and 
 Buccessful in his efforts to save souls. There were also at 
 this church. Brothers Gooden, Padget, and Thomas Smith — 
 men of hope and faith. The two last have gone to the land 
 of the pious departed. Brother S. long since left us. I res- 
 pected and esteemed him much, and he was worthy. One 
 evening, while resting on the bed (I had been sick), my 
 spirits were quite depressed. I thought I was forgotten by 
 my friends — that they seldom prayed for me, when the fol- 
 lowing impression came on me very strongly — one of j^our 
 friends is now on his knees praying for you, this very mo- 
 ment, when you think you have been forgotten by all. I at 
 once became lifted up — I was very happy — I got on my 
 knees and thanked the Lord. I noticed the hour of the day. 
 Several weeks after this, I was at Little Swamp, when Bro- 
 ther Smith asked me to walk with him, as he wished to see 
 me alone. He then inquired, if on such an evening, at a 
 certain hour, I had been cast down, and thought I had been 
 forgotten by my friends. I told him I had been. He told 
 me that at that hour he became impressed that I was so 
 situated, and that he must pray for me. He was then hard 
 at work, and thought he would wait till the regular time we 
 had agreed upon years before, which was after sunset ; but 
 the impression became stronger, and he stopped, and turned 
 aside, and prayed for me. How good the Lord is to us ! 
 
 "Wesley Chapel. A place of note in the olden time — a 
 place of renown on the old Walterboro circuit. Before I 
 joined the church, camp-meetings were held there ; and 
 many of the old preachers, long since gone to heaven, un- 
 furled the blood-besprinkled flag of Calvary there, in years 
 that are past. Men, whose names will never die in the his- 
 tory of the South Carolina Conference, preached there, long 
 before I realized the salvation of my soul. I have attended 
 many interesting meetings at that place. The old class- 
 leader, Brother Eaysor, moved to Georgia years ago, and I 
 hope is now in a better world. Brother Fulk, another of 
 the old-time men of God, has left us. His eldest son still 
 lives, and is bound for the better world. 
 
PROVIDENCE, MIZPAH AND CROSS SWAMP. 181 
 
 Providence. A dear old church. What times of immortal 
 remembrance I have seen there — long before the new church 
 was built, which was burned during the late war. Most of 
 the old friends are gone. Brother Daniel Beigler — one of the 
 heroes of the old circuit — has long since left us for the better 
 land, where the friends of Jesus never part, and where the 
 weary are at rest. Brother Carson — the good, the true, the 
 humble, and the heavenly -minded man — is still left ; and the 
 veteran still haS his war-harness on, enduring hardships like 
 a good soldier of Jesus Christ. All hail ! to the old hero of 
 Providence. 
 
 Mizpah. A chief place on the old circuit ; and the first 
 place in many respects on the Bamberg circuit. The old 
 church has long since been replaced by a new one. Dear old 
 Mizpah, of holy remembrance ! how I loved that house of 
 prayer and praise ! How often, in the olden time, I felt the 
 presence of the Lord in my poor soul, in that time-honored 
 sanctuary! There were — Brother George Kirkland, the 
 whole-souled leader ; Dr. Ayer, who started with me at Bin- 
 nakers for the better world. Brother Kirkland left us many 
 years ago for the fair fields of Eden — where father and son 
 have long since embraced in heaven to part no more. Two 
 of the heroes of old Mizpah still worship the Lord in the 
 new church. Brother Eeuben Kirkland — the quiet, the meek 
 Christian, the kind-hearted friend — still lives, to ask the 
 preacher of the gospel to his house, and to make him feel at 
 once at home in his friendly presence. Dr. Ayer was still 
 alive when last heard from ; and though in another State, 
 that war-worn veteran of the cross has not forgotten his 
 friends on the old circuit. James Brabham — the preacher's 
 best friend on the Bamberg circuit — a Christian gentleman, 
 worthy of being mentioned in the same breath with Mizpah's 
 sainted class-leader and his preacher-son — W. C. Kirkland — 
 still lives to bless the church and the world in these degene- 
 rate days. May their names never be forgotten on earth! 
 
 Cross Swamp. Immortal name ! The dear old church, 
 with its living and departed heroes, how much I love the 
 time-honored place, with its heavenly surroundings ! The 
 friends here have always treated me kindly. In my young 
 
182 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 diiys as a proaehor, thc}- ntood near me to etren^tlien my 
 hands; and now tliat 1 have ^rown grey on the walls of 
 Zion, they are more kind than ever. How can I forget 
 them! I hope the Lord will enable me to pray for them 
 while I live, and to remember them in heaven. Brother 
 Aaron Yarn, one of the old heroen, has ke))t the faith, has 
 fought the good fight, has finished his course, and has gone 
 to the paradise above, having left, among many others, the 
 Wandering Arab to mourn his loss, and miss him much. But 
 the good man left loved ones behind, who are faithfully 
 walking in his steps. But, bless the Lord, some of the 
 heroes still remain. Brother Broxton, the good and true 
 man ; Brother Murdock, the Christian veteran ; Brother 
 James Yarn, one of my best friends — ever kind, ever true, 
 ever loving ; Brother L. B. Yarn, my long-tried and much- 
 loved friend — as Achates was to Eneas, as Damon was to 
 Pythias, as Jonathan was to David, so has he ever been to 
 me. We have stood side by side, on a hundred stricken 
 fields, fighting with locked shields ; and have won many a 
 hard fought battle — giving all the glory to our blessed Sa- 
 viour. Brother Reuben Stephens — the last on the immortal 
 list of Cross Swamp heroes — worthy of standing by the side 
 of the greatest of the Walterboro heroes. In olden times he 
 belonged to Buckhead ; but as he is at Cross Swamj:* now, I 
 speak of him here. Before I embraced religion, Brother 
 Stephens was one of the chief pillars of the church ; and all 
 through my Christian life, has been one of my best friends. 
 His smile, his greeting — which always comes from his heart, 
 and his shake of the hand, have always been to me as water 
 to a thirsty traveller. The South Carolina Conference has 
 few such men in its bounds, as far as I know, as Eeuben 
 Stephens — the Christian gentleman, and the veteran who 
 has ever met the powers of darkness in the face. He re- 
 minds me much of the gallant Caleb, who after surviving all 
 the terrors of the wilderness, stood before Joshua, and told 
 him that he w^as just as strong to bear arms then as when 
 he first left Egypt. One .reason, I have thought, why he 
 has been spared to us so long, is that the young men of the 
 church might know that there were giants in the Walter- 
 
THE GIANTS OF THE TIME. 183 
 
 boro circuit, thirty years ago. I hope my friends will allow 
 me to call Brother Thomas Baysor, the Agamemnon — Bro- 
 ther Ulmer, the Nestor — Brother Eeuben Stephens, the Ajax 
 Telemon — Brother L. B. Yarn, the Diomed — 'Old Brother 
 Aaron Yarn, the Philemon — Brother Charles Stewart, the 
 Gains — and Brother James Brabham, the Jonathan of the 
 old Walterboro circuit. 
 
 I was born in this world, in the town of Walterboro, over 
 sixty years ago ; and I joined the church in the bounds of 
 the old circuit; and 1 have ever felt desirous, by the help of 
 the Lord, to save my soul, and reach heaven at last, when 
 my course is ended. 
 
 '* Come, let us join our friends above, 
 
 That have obtained the prize ; ^ 
 
 And on the eagle wings of love, 
 
 To joys celestial rise : 
 Let all the saints terrestrVl sing, 
 
 With those to glory gon^ ; 
 For all the servants of our King 
 
 In earth and heaven are one. 
 
 ''One family we dwell iu him — , 
 
 One church above, beneath ; ^ 
 
 Though now divided by the stream, 
 
 The narrow stream of death. 
 One army of the living God, 
 
 To his command we bow ; 
 Part of the host have crossed the flood, 
 
 And part are crossing now." 
 
 ft 
 
 y > 
 
LEAF THE TWENTY-EIGHTH. 
 
 A MEMENTO OF MY MOST BELOVED FillEND, BROTHER THOMAS 
 RAYSOR, THE MODEL STEWARD, OR THE MAN WHOSE MANTLE 
 NO ONE HAS YET BEEN FOUND WORTHY TO WEAR. 
 
 I have often thought, that, notwithstanding my very sin- 
 gular and strange turn of mind, and my many oddities, I 
 have been truly blessed of the Lord with a great number of 
 friends — I expect they might be counted by the hundreds — 
 who have showed me much kindness. I know I have some- 
 times been treated by some of them better than I deserved. 
 Of all these dear friends of mine, I have always regarded 
 Brother Thomas Eaysor as my first and my best-beloVed ; 
 and w^hen he left this y^le of tears to enter the rest that 
 remains for the people of Grod, I lost my dearest friend. I 
 have often been requested by some of my friends — both 
 preachers and others — to write down some of the events of 
 my past life ; and for many years I have been thinlving of 
 doing so; but did not begin the work until a few months ago. 
 I have already spoken of several of my friends who have 
 gone to heaven ; and I would feel ashamed of myself, and 
 feel that I had almost committed a sin, if I said nothing 
 in these Stray Leaves of Thomas Eaysor. 
 
 I was in the church for some time before I became inti- 
 matel}' acquainted with him. He was then one of the chief 
 stewards of the circuit, and had been for years before ; and 
 he always had the interests of the preachers and of the 
 church at large, near his heart. His house, his heart, and 
 his noble soul Avere always open, to welcome, to encourage, 
 and befriend the preacher of the gospel. But Thomas Eay- 
 sor has gone, and I am left still to feel and mourn his ab- 
 sence ; but he is often thought of, often remembered. While 
 he was here, if I was in trouble, I would go to him for com- 
 fort ; if I was happy, I wished to share my pleasure with 
 him ; if I v^anted advice, I went to him for it : and now that 
 he is no more with me, I feel that the earthly arm on which 
 
EIDING A CIECUIT. 185 
 
 I loved to lean is removed. I sometimes fancy he is near 
 me, very near ; and I can almost imagine I still hear him 
 speaking to me. 
 
 I have often felt, that if all the circuits in the South Caro- 
 lina Conference, however bad the prospect, were only blessed 
 with one man like Thomas Eaysor, the preachers would be 
 much better provided for than they are. 
 
 Near thirty years ago, one of the preachers on our circuit, 
 through affliction in his family, had to leave his work j and 
 I think it was by Brother Eaysor's advice, the quarterly 
 conference requested me to take his place for the time ; and 
 from that time I became warmly attached to him. Let me 
 show what influence he had over me. I have always pre- 
 ferred my roving life as a preacher, to regular circuit work. 
 Three times he advised me to go on a circuit, and I yielded 
 each time, as he thought it was for the best. I remember a 
 rather amusing circumstance, connected with one of those 
 times. 
 
 Our presiding elder, Brother Walker, met me some dis- 
 tance from home, and requested me to take the place of a 
 preacher, whose ill-health compelled him to leave his work. 
 Brother Eaysor was there, and I told Brother W. I would 
 be governed by Brother Eaysor's advice. He asked me if I 
 would not first consult my wife. I told him, she would send 
 me to Brother E. I then went to Brother E., who was near 
 by, and he told me to fill the vacancy, which I did. After I 
 got through the six months on the circuit, I met Brother E. 
 at a meeting, and took him aside, and told him I had a 
 request to make of him, and that he must grant it before 
 knowing what it was — that he could do so very well if he 
 would. He paused some time ; but at last said he would do 
 so. I told him, that three times in my life I had gone on a 
 circuit by his advice ; that I did not like it as well as my 
 roving life ; and entreated him never to advise me to do it 
 again. He said tliat he would not, and left me for a little 
 while, but returned again, and said that he and a brother 
 present had a request to make of me, and that I must grant 
 it before knowing what it was. I could not refuse. He said, 
 I must accept of a suit of clothes from them. 
 12 
 
18(3 STRAY LEAVESc 
 
 He not only gave liberally himself, but influenced others 
 to do the same. More than once in the olden time, have I 
 gone to the class-steward to pay my subscription for the 
 preacher, when I would be told that a brother had been 
 there and settled it for me. I knew full well who the bro- 
 ther was. I once spoke to him about it ; but he said, his 
 feelings would be hurt unless I would let him have his own 
 way ; and so I had to give up more than once. I have been 
 present when collections were being taken up for Missions, 
 when he would say, " I give so much for myself, and so 
 much for a brother," nodding to me. I knew him so well, 
 that I said nothing. 
 
 When with him, I felt more at home than with any ot^iei*i 
 man. He enjoyed religion, both in public and private liftf)^ 
 and he believed in a whole-souled, heart-felt Christian^:. 
 He had a wife, who was worthy of him in every respect ;• 
 and they lived very happily together for years ; but death 
 separated them at last — and she w^as called to the happy 
 land, far, ftxr away. I remember well the last night I stayed 
 with them, before she was taken from us. Brother R. and 
 myself sat up some time after the family had retired ; and 
 we were sitting near together — the fire having nearly died 
 out. AYe were sj^eaking of persons leaving the church ; and, 
 as if suddenly moved by a strong impulse, he said, " Well, 
 brother, I would rather see jou dead, and unburied before 
 my gate, and the birds plucking out your eyes — as much as 
 I love you — than to see you quit the church, and go back 
 to the world." He always spoke out what was in his heart. 
 
 Not many weeks after this, his wife was called to her 
 reward on high, so that I never saw her again ; but she left 
 this world fully prepared for heaven. Only a few hours 
 before her death, she told her husband, she was ready and 
 willing to go ; and sent her last message to me — that I must 
 never quit the church, and must meet her in heaven ; that I 
 must pray for her husband and children every night, before 
 retiring to rest. In after years, Brother R. married again, 
 a very worthy and respectable lady. 
 
 I have been at many very interesting meetings with Bro- 
 ther R., and his heart was always engaged in the work of 
 
FORMING A COMPACT. 187 
 
 the Lord. I remember well, a meeting many years ago, at 
 Swallow Savannah. It was a time of refreshing from the 
 presence of the Lord; and he seemed to enjoy himself very 
 much. One day, we were alone, and he told me he wished 
 to speak to me on a particular subject. He said, that he 
 knew some of his friends thought he might be prevailed on 
 to quit our church, and join another; but that he was re- 
 solved, by God's help, to live and die where he was. And 
 then he said to me, that some thought, by family influence, 
 I, too, might join another church ; but he said he did not 
 believe it. He then told me, he wished to make a bargain 
 with me before the Lord, in whose presence we then were — 
 that we must solemnly pledge ourselves to it. It was this : 
 if either of us ever felt like leaving our church, he must send 
 for the other — who must come, and remain with him until 
 he prevailed on him to remain where he was. I agreed with 
 him, and we shook hands on it. '' Now," said he, " if any 
 one should tell me, and offer to swear to it on the Bible, 
 that you were going to leave our church, I would not believe 
 one word of it, unless you first sent me word to come," I 
 feel the impression of that pledge as strong now as if he 
 was still with me. 
 
 Many years ago, I was taken very sick, and was brought 
 very near the grave. Several physicians were with me, and 
 all expected me to die. My brother, Dr. Bellinger, was with 
 me several days ; and he said, at one time he did not think 
 I had more than two hours to live. While in my right 
 mind, I felt much of the presence of the Lord, and the com- 
 forts of religion; and my dear Brother Eaysor was with me 
 day and night, to pray for me, and to wait on me to the last. 
 He never gave me up ; he said he had been praying much 
 for me, and that he had faith to believe I would recover. 
 He told my wife several times, that the Lord would spare 
 me to her; that I would recover my health; and that he 
 would often hear me preach again. I think his prayers, 
 with those of many others, had much to do with my recov- 
 ery. He never came to see me, while I was sick, without 
 stopping to entreat the Lord in private for me. The Lord 
 spared me ; I was raised up again ; the prayers of my many 
 
188 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 friends were heard ; and, O ! how much nearer to my heart 
 was Brother Eaysor afterwards than before. 
 
 But the much-loved brother of my soul has left me. He 
 departed this life several years ago, full of peace and holy 
 joy, to the realms of endless day. By his death, a great 
 vacuum was made, both in the church and the world — one 
 that never has been, and perhaps never will be, filled. He 
 left his mantle behind ; but no one has yet been found wor- 
 thy to wear it. 
 
 Brother Eaysor was so generous, so merciful, that while I 
 think of him, he recalls the words of the poet — 
 
 •' The quality of mercy is not strained ; 
 It droppeth as the gentle dew from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath. It blesseth him 
 That gives, and him that takes." 
 
 I think of him, perhaps every time I pass his old home — 
 where his eldest son now lives ; and I generally uncover my 
 head. O ! how much I miss my departed brother, in these 
 days of privation and trouble ! 
 
 Farewell ! Brother Thomas Eaysor ! I hope your happy 
 spirit will be near when my hour comes. Thy departed 
 children, I trust, are now with thee in glory ; and those left 
 behind, I hope, will meet thee there. 
 
 *^ Thy life was gentle ; and the elements 
 So mixed in thee, that Nature might stand up, 
 And say to all the world — Thou wast a man. ' ' 
 
LEAF THE TWENTY-NINTH. 
 
 CAMDEN ; MEETINGS AT SALEM CAMP-GROUND, AND LANCASTER 
 COURT-HOUSE. 
 
 In the early part of 1840, I attended an annual conference 
 at Camden, held by Bishop Andrew, where I was ordained 
 local deacon — which was a very serious, solemn service to 
 me, and one which I hope I will never forget ; for, O ! what 
 searching of heart I had on that holy Sabbath. The Bishop's 
 sermon made quite a strong impression on my mind. I had 
 never seen him but once before — which was at a camp- 
 meeting near Bethel church, on the Blackville circuit, some 
 years before. I remember very little of the service, how- 
 ever, for at that time I was a very wicked young man, and 
 paid little respect to the services. It did not then seem pro- 
 bable that in a few years I would be ordained deacon by him. 
 
 Several years after my first visit, I attended a quarterly 
 meeting in Camden ; Brother Talley was the presiding elder, 
 and my much-respected friend. Brother S. M. Green, was in 
 charge of the church. Brother Murchison was also present. 
 One day, while I was preaching, a powerful impression rest- 
 ed on the congregation, and several of the brethren became 
 very happy, and exulted in the Lord their Redeemer. 
 
 Some days after, I left for Salem camp-ground, in Lan- 
 caster District, which was a famous place in the olden time. 
 It was situated on the direct stage route from Camden to 
 Lancaster. This was the first of several fine meetings which 
 I attended at that place. Let me mention the names of 
 several friends whom I met there for the first time. Bro- 
 ther Simon Eraser, a local preacher, was there — a good, 
 whole-souled, thorough-going man, with whom I was quite 
 pleased ; but he has long since gone to the realms above. I 
 also met the Rev. Dr. Langley and his family, and have al- 
 ways been happy to number them with my friends. He is 
 a gentleman of intelligence and refinement, very courteous 
 in his manners. His wife and daughters are also very plea- 
 
100 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 8ant and kind to their friends. 1 there heeame aequaintod 
 with two brothers, by the name of Cauthen — one of whom 
 was a worthy member of our Conferenee ; and the other was 
 a man of weight, both in the ehnrch and in the State. There, 
 too, was the class-leader — an Israelite without blemish or 
 reproach ; and I regard it as a fortunate moment for me 
 Avhen I became acquained with Brother Beckham. I once 
 went from Camden to the camp-ground in the stage, in 
 which I found some very unpleasant passengers, who knew 
 I was a preacher, and behaved very badly, thereby disturb- 
 ing me very much ; but I concluded it was best not to re- 
 prove them, as I thought it would be casting pearls before 
 swine. O, how I longed for deliverance from my distressing 
 position ! But at last I reached the ground ; and how thank- 
 ful I felt, when the friends gathered around me with their 
 friendly greeting! At times, the Holy Spirit came down 
 powerfully upon the congregation ; and we had very sweet 
 singing at the stand, in the tents, and in the woods. "What 
 great crowds were there on Saturday and Sunday ; and the 
 preached word found its way to the heart of many a har- 
 dened sinner who had been so long indifferent as to cause 
 their friends to lose all hope. 
 
 I was once present at a protracted meeting, held in the 
 church, at the same place. It was a time of mucii interest ; 
 the Eternal Spirit was abroad ; and my faith was strong and 
 lively. The work of the Lord was reviving in my soul. Sin- 
 ners trembled, mourners wept. Christians rejoiced, and the 
 angels were waiting to bear the glad news to heaven, that 
 souls were converted, and prodigals were returning home. 
 A lady was present, a member of the Baptist church, who 
 had a very wicked son in the crowd, and it seemed that no- 
 thing could move him — neither the joys of heaven, nor the 
 horrors of hell, appeared to make any impression. He seemed 
 almost beyond the reach of Divine influence. His mother 
 entreated me to persuade him, if possible, to come to the 
 altar ; and I made several efforts, but all in vain. I became 
 very sorry for her; for she was still very urgent in her re- 
 quest that I should try him again. ^ The meeting was still 
 going on ; and I went to him once ^ore, and knelt down 
 
HOW A YOUNG MAN WAS BROUGHT IN. 191 
 
 before him, and implored him to yield to be saved — but all 
 in vain. lie smiled in my face. "I suspect," says one, "that 
 the Wandering Arab then left him to his fate." I became 
 more determined to win him, if possible, for his mother, and 
 for the church ; but I changed my programme. The meeting 
 went on with blessed results, the vStrange Preacher taking 
 no more notice of the young man than if he was not present ; 
 but in secret praying much for him. The time had not yet 
 come for me to make my last effort. Many weeping souls 
 were happily converted ; others were still seeking the Sa- 
 viour, sorrowing ; and the gospel was still winning its way 
 to the hearts of the people. Hard-hearted sinners were 
 deeply wounded by the arrows of the Spirit, and were flee- 
 ing the wrath to come. But still that young man stayed 
 away, and I still continued to treat him with indifference. 
 His mother had lost all hope of ever seeing her dear son 
 seeking the salvation of his soul. But the Saviour had tasted 
 death for him, and the Holy Spirit had not finally departed. 
 The Strange Preacher was ready to make his last effort. 
 There appeared to be a more general impression on the con- 
 gregation than at any time previous. The camp of Israel 
 was moving, at the command of the Lord, to glorious vic- 
 tory. .Mourners were called up. Three young men were 
 sitting near the centre of the middle aisle ; the young man 
 already alluded to occupied the middle sea-t. I offered one 
 silent, brief prayer to the Heavenly Father, and walked up 
 to the group, and spoke to the one on the right, and then 
 turnecl to the one on the left — but said not a word to him. 
 I told them, there was mercy for them if they would yield ; 
 and shook hands with them, hoping to meet them in heaven 
 — ^but I took not the slightest notice of the middle one, while 
 his mother wept and prayed. I returned to the altar, and 
 faced the congregation. O, my soul ! what did I then see ? 
 That young man rushed up to the altar, crying out aloud — 
 " Mr. Bellinger, you said nothing to me j you took no notice 
 of me ; and I know you have no hope of me. But, O ! sir, 
 you must pray for me, whether you want to or not." That 
 happy mother rejoiced over her returning son ; and the holy 
 angels joined with her in her thanksgiving. 
 
192 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Let mo now tell yon of the meeting at Lancaster court- 
 house, in the unfinished church. There was a gentleman 
 of high standing there, who, with his wife, was quite im- 
 pressed by the preached word. The class-leader told me, 
 that ho had never before seen him so much interested ; and 
 that, having taken quite a fancy to me, he wished to be in- 
 troduced. Strange to say, I, too, was drawn towards him 
 from the very first. 1 have often been thus impressed with 
 strangers who were not in the church, and felt a strong de- 
 sire for their salvation. I have often thought, there was a 
 preacher for every sinner ; that is, that the Holy Spirit will 
 by some means or other, reach every heart ; and that, if one 
 minister does not, by the grace of God, another will ; that 
 one sinner will be convicted by a sermon, which will have 
 no effect on others ; that a man must be awakened before he 
 can be lost. The class-leader told me, that quite to his sur- 
 prise, this gentleman was carried away with the Strange 
 Preacher ; and told me, if invited, to go home with him ; for 
 there never had been a Methodist preacher invited to his 
 house. One night, the said person came to me, and re- 
 quested me to spend the next day with him ; and to bring 
 my friend with me. So Brother McC. and myself went to 
 his house, on the last day of my stay — for I was then to 
 leave for a camp-meeting which I had promised to attend. 
 I found out that the Lord was powerfully at work with him. 
 One night at church, he rose up involuntarily, and stood 
 during a portion of the sermon. While at his house, he se- 
 lected religious subjects for conversation. The gentleman 
 himself said to me, that he had never been so deeply inter- 
 ested — that he had leard of me often, and always felt a 
 desire to see me — that he felt more drawn towards me than 
 to any other preacher — and was convinced, if he could hear 
 me preach a few more sermons, he would be converted, and 
 afterwards join our church ; as he considered it wrong to 
 unite with the church before conversion. I told him, I united 
 with the church before I got religion ; and others had done 
 the same, and realized the blessing soon after; and that if 
 such a course was sinful, the Lord would never have forgiven 
 them. We were treated with much kindness both by him 
 
THE AWAKENED HUSBAND AND WIFE. 193 
 
 and his wife ; and they pressed me to remain, and attend 
 the Salem camp-meeting, which was to take place in a few 
 days — as they believed if I would go there, they would re- 
 ceive the blessing, and be ready to join the church. I told 
 them there was danger in thus putting too much trust in a 
 weak arm of flesh ; for the minister was nothing without the 
 help of the Lord, but was only the mouth through which he 
 spoke ; and unless the Spirit was in the word all would be 
 vain. He called me, his preacher ; and said I was sent to 
 him ; and if 1 went to the camp-meeting, he would be con- 
 verted. My feelings were much wrought upon, and I wished 
 much to stay, for I thought there was work for me. He had 
 great searchings of heart on the salvation of his soul ; and I 
 was the humble instrument in his conviction ; but my word 
 was out, and I was expected elsewhere. A few moments 
 before we started for church, they both abruptly left, and 
 retired to their room — and I at once thought they had gone 
 to pray. After a while, they returned, holding each other's 
 hand, and walked up to me with tears in their eyes, and 
 once more entreated me to stay to the camp-meeting. He 
 said, they had retired to pray for themselves ; and said he 
 thought he knew a plan by which I could be persuaded to 
 remain ; that he told his wife in the room, if they would join 
 the church that night, he thought I would stay, but he did 
 not wish to do so until he had obtained religion. He asked 
 me if that would induce me to remain. 1 told him, I would 
 be very glad to see it ; but I had to fulfill my promise. "We 
 had a gracious, solemn time, and the Lord was with his ser- 
 vant while preaching his last sermon. They knelt at their 
 seats for prayer, but did not join the church ; and the meet- 
 ing was closed. They again implored me to stay ; but we 
 parted, and I never saw them again, I was quite cast down 
 in spirit ; but how much more so would I have been had I 
 then known what was to happen in a few days. 
 
 After I got home, I received a letter from a friend, inform- 
 ing me of the camp-meeting at Salem — what a good time 
 they had, and how much the friends enjoyed themselves ; 
 and that this gentleman and lady were much disappointed 
 that I was not there. They still continued to hope I would 
 
19 i , STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 come. There had been much good done ; but the poor Major 
 went over the ground like a lost man in a* crowd, Having, his 
 preacher was not there — if he could only hear him once 
 more, he would get religion, and then join the church. They 
 felt sorry for him. He would sometimes leave the stand be- 
 fore the sermon was over, and roam all over the ground ; 
 and sometimes would come to him (the writer), and say — 
 *' O ! Mr. Beckham, I am sorry my preacher has not come." 
 He left the camp-ground, and went home in the same state 
 of mind. In a few days after, he was taken suddenly ill, and 
 died in a few moments, without speaking a word. 
 
 It was the saddest news I ever heard — the death of one 
 whom I had only seen for the first time just a few days be- 
 fore. I cannot describe my feelings. How much I wished I 
 had remained ! But I hoped for the best, knowing how mer- 
 ciful the Lord is ; slow to anger, and plenteous in redemption. 
 
 I learned a lesson from that sad event, which I hope I will 
 never forget. I think preachers do w^rong in leaving meet- 
 ings of much interest, where there is evident^ work for 
 them to do, and where they are much impressed by their 
 own feelings to remain, and yet leave merely to fulfill a pro- 
 mise. It really seems to me that there are preachers to suit 
 every sinner ; so that every one will be left without an ex. 
 cuse. I often hear of persons, who have listened to the same 
 minister for years, manifesting very little interest about reli- 
 gion ; and when another came, they become more deeply 
 interested than ever before, and, finally, are happily con- 
 verted, while others still remain unmoved. 
 
 Of all the meetings I ever left with the greatest reluct- 
 ance, were those of Cane Creek and Lancaster camp-grounds, 
 and I have always regretted doing so ; but what is past can- 
 not be recalled. O ! no ; the past will never be seen again, 
 till at the judgment bar we meet ; and, O ! that it may not 
 condemn us there. O ! blessed Father, condemn us not for 
 the past, the present, or the future, for the sake of thy Son, 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
LEAF THE THIETIETH. 
 
 THE STRANGE PREACHER COUNTING CHICKENS BEFORE THEY 
 WERE HATCHED ; OR, EXPECTING GREAT THINGS, WAS QUITE 
 DISAPPOINTED. 
 
 My friends, I have been telling you of very many good 
 meetings ; but now, suppose you look at the other side of 
 the picture, for variety's sake. Let me tell you of my 
 counting chickens before they were hatched — where things 
 passed off very differently to what I expected. I tell you 
 these things to show you the whole man. I have already 
 spoken of the best meeting I ever attended — not even ex- 
 cepting old Binnakers, where I was converted — which w^as 
 my first visit to Cane Creek. Now, let me mention one 
 which was the poorest I ever attended, as far as my feelings 
 were concerned. Would you think it possible, that it was 
 the next one I was at, after I left Cane Creek ? You say, 
 that is very strange. Still it is true; but I have never been 
 able to account for it, unless it was — which I am rather 
 afraid was the case — that I did wrong in leaving, and the 
 Lord intended it as a punishment and lesson for me. Let us 
 moralize a little here. What a picture of human life ! look 
 at it. To-day, we are as happy and contented as we well 
 can be, in this troublesome world, every thing is bright 
 around us ; the flowers are inviting us to admire them ; birds 
 are singing so sweetly, that we wonder where they learned 
 their songs ; the winds are blowing so gently, that we 
 scarcely feel them as they kiss our cheeks. But the morrow 
 Cometh ; and, O, what a change it brings ! You cannot tell 
 how or why it is so, that you are cast down, and ill at ease ; 
 and you expect every moment to see or hear something to 
 distress you. The woods are silent and gloomy ; the birds 
 are gone ; you see no sweet flowers ; and the persons whom 
 you meet do not look kindly at you ; and you, more than 
 once, feel if you still have your purse ; the winds are now 
 raging through the forast, and there is no friendly shelter 
 
196 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 near. Such is man's life in this vale of tears. O ! who that 
 has a homo in heaven, would live always here? Yes, so it 
 was ; the coldest and most uninteresting meeting I ever was 
 at, followed the very best I ever enjoyed. 
 
 Let us go back to the evening I left Cane Creek, in spite 
 of all opposition. I have told you how sorry I was to leave ; 
 and how I turned back more than once, and went so near as 
 to see the people on the ground ; but at last turned round 
 again, and went off. I felt all the time that I was doing 
 wrong, but still I would go ; for I had had but little experi- 
 ence in such things, and was expecting the meeting to which 
 I was going to be a good one — not thinking it could be other- 
 wise — and though sorry that 1 had to leave, I was comforted 
 with the thought that I would realise the same thing again, 
 and was full of the love of the Lord. I went on, rejoicing in 
 the hope of immortality beyond this vale of sorrows — at 
 times clapping my hands, and shouting aloud ; and then 
 again, a slight change would come over me — something 
 seeming to say, " You did wrong in leaving, when your old 
 schoolmate entreated you to stay ; and when the young man 
 came up with his sisters, you should have given up." This 
 troubled me much ; but then I would say, " It will never do 
 to break my promise ; and after all, I am going to a meeting 
 where I expect to enjoy myself as well as I did at the one 
 left behind — I count on there being a great revival there ; 
 and the word will be preached with the same power, and 
 the same effect — mourners will crowd the altar, and many of 
 them be happily converted ; and the holy angels will carry 
 the glad news to heaven as often as they did at Cane Creek." 
 I have thought, if I had only known what was to be the 
 true state of things, I would have gone back to old Cane 
 Creek, and seen the end of the best camp-meeting I ever 
 attended. 
 
 That night I stayed at a place not far from Broad river. 
 It was late when I got there ; and I had to sleep in an upper 
 room, that was quite high from the lower floor — ^the stairs 
 having no railing round them. The next morning, I got up 
 before it was light enough to see ; I said my praj^'ers, and 
 was hastening down, and only saved myself by a great 
 
MY HARP UPON THE WILLOWS. 197 
 
 effort. I have never forgotten my danger, and the deliver- 
 ance granted to me. If that had happened to an old Eoman, 
 he would have gone no further, but would have regarded it 
 as a bad omen. I wish I had turned back ; but I still kept 
 up my feelings by praying often. I counted on a great re- 
 vival — 1 thought it could not be otherwise. 
 
 I had never before been to the place ; and did not expect 
 to know but two persons on the ground, and they were 
 preachers. I stopped — as I always do on reaching a camp- 
 ground — and prayed to Israel's God, and asked that the first 
 person I met might be one of the two preachers, so that I 
 might be presented to others by him. When I reached the 
 ground, I found the congregation at the stand, and I went 
 to the preachers' tent. The door was closed ; I opened it, 
 and found one person within, who proved to be one of my 
 acquaintances. 
 
 Before I reached the place, I thought I felt a slight change 
 coming over my feelings — I became depressed; and I have 
 thought it was a foreshadowing of what was to be — some 
 small hint that the meeting would not be as good as I ex- 
 pected. I have sometimes suspected that one reason why 
 the prayer was answered about meeting the preacher, was 
 because it was to be the last time my soul would be blessed 
 at that meeting. I soon found out that the meeting was 
 dragging heavily. This affected my spirits somewhat. In 
 spite of all I could do, my good feelings were gradually 
 leaving me. That camp-meeting was a great failure. Both 
 preachers and people seemed to be but little interested. 
 There was very little singing during the services ; and I 
 became still more discouraged, and at last grew quite as 
 indifferent as others. The preaching was good — some of it 
 excellent ; but there seemed to be no Holy Ghost in it — that 
 was the trouble. I thought the meeting got worse after my 
 arrival, and I was very sorry I had corae ; for I felt I had 
 done wrong in leaving Cane Creek. My harp was on the 
 willows ; and I never can forget how cold I became as the 
 time passed on. Everybody decided that the meeting was 
 a great failure. It was quite a disappointment to me ; and 
 my high expectations all fell to the ground. The Strange 
 
198 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Preacher certainly counted his chickenn that time before 
 they were hatched ; and I have always regarded it as the 
 coldest meeting I ever attended. 
 
 The next great failure — at least, so far as my feelings were 
 concerned — was the one I was at after, I left Lancaster court- 
 house, and declined going to the Salem camp-meeting, though 
 so pressed to do so. My refusing to go there, has ever been 
 a life-time regret. Often, in these days, after the lapse of 
 twenty years, I still imagine I hear the Major imploring me 
 to stay, and telling me, he thought by my remaining he 
 would soon be converted. Do you know what I am thinking 
 of now ? It is this : if that man is not among the saved — 
 but, O, my soul ! I hope he is — I should dread to meet him 
 on that great day. If I did wrong in not going to Salem, 
 O, my Saviour! forgive me. The meeting I went to from 
 Lancaster was a great failure, and I was very much disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 Many years ago, I sometimes preached at a certain court- 
 house in our State, where our church had done very little, 
 and where the prospect promised no better. As I have al- 
 ready said, I think there are places at which one branch of 
 the church does more good than another; while at other 
 places the same church can accomplish nothing. I think it 
 is all right ; and I have often thought that if there were 
 no other church in these States but the Methodist Church, 
 many persons would risk the loss of their souls rather than 
 unite with it ; and so with any other denomination. After 
 preaching at that court-house for some time, I was told 
 by a lady, whose sister had married a gentleman of high 
 standing, that her sister had made up her mind to join our 
 church, and w^anted to see me before going to the church at 
 my next appointment, as she intended to join at that time^ 
 and she thought her husband would go with her. She said, 
 I must let nothing prevent me from coming at that time. 
 Now, this was sufficient encouragement for the Strange 
 Preacher to begin the building of an air castle; so my 
 imagination broke loose from all restraint, and my plan 
 was at once arranged. I first thought of sending word to 
 some of the preachers whom I thought would suit the place, 
 
BUILDING AIR CASTLES. 199 
 
 to come prepared to stay at least a fortnight, and to fix up 
 several of their best sermons — thinking, by the help of the 
 Lord, to storm the village. I said to myself, " If that lady 
 joins, and she will be sure to do so, then her husband will do 
 as she does ; and then will follow the Major, and the Captain > 
 and many others ; and we Avill have a glorious old-time 
 meeting. And with the Strength of Israel on our side, we 
 will build up the Methodist Church." My thoughts con- 
 tinued to rise still higher ; but as I had not lost all control 
 of m^^self, upon second thought, I resolved that I would 
 not send word to the preachers, as they might have their 
 appointments out. I knew they did not live very far, and I 
 could send word to them afterwards. And thus I settled 
 down on my programme, and went to work to fix up dif- 
 ferent sermons, which I thought would best suit the place. 
 For example, what would do very well for Shiloh or Taber- 
 nacle, would not begin to suit that place. So I thought and 
 thought, and at last had everything arranged for the meet- 
 ing, and awaited anxiously for the time to come, I grasped 
 my lance, to se-e if I could hold it as firmly in the rest as 
 ever ; and I examined my Damascus blade, to see if there 
 was any rust on its keen edge; and I noticed my gallant 
 steed, to see if all was right — the war harness, and the trap- 
 pings as they should be. And my war-horse began to champ 
 his bit, and tramp the ground — he was eager for the charge. 
 The time came, and I bade farewell to my family— for I 
 expected to be absent a long time, for I intended to continue 
 the meeting as long as the prospect was good, as I knew it 
 was best to strike while the iron was hot. My hopes were 
 high, and my flag unfurled, " My banner was on the outer 
 wall, for the cry was still, they come." I was counting on 
 a tremendous time ; and thought that, through grace, the 
 Methodist Church would at last take firm hold, where it had 
 failed so long; and then would follow a lengthy notice in the 
 " Advocate," that several preachers had at last stormed the 
 stronghold of sin, at such a place, I had all my plans ar- 
 ranged, and my hopes had not been so high for years. I 
 reviewed my fine sermons over again and again; when, lo! I 
 met some one who told me, that the lady and gentleman 
 
200 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 alluded to, had a few days ago, joined another branch of the 
 church. O, my soul! what a ftill wdh that! The splendid 
 castles which had been built, vanished, leaving but a wreck 
 behind ; and I was overwhelmed with disappointed hopes. 
 After a while, I drew a long breath, and said to myself, " I 
 am so glad I did not send word to the preachers to meet me 
 there." I could not be persuaded to preach from one of my 
 favorite texts ; I would draw no pictures ; but give them a 
 ten cents' sermon; and leave no appointment. Do you re- 
 member those lines in " Henry YIII.," where Wolsey is la- 
 menting his fall ? 
 
 '* This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth 
 The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honors thick upon him. 
 The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost — 
 And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
 His greatness is a-ripening — nips his root, 
 And then he falls, as I do. " / 
 
 It was many 'years before I preached at that place again. 
 Among several sermons which I had fixed up, there was 
 one with which I had taken great pains, and the Strange 
 Preacher was quite pleased with it, and read it over and 
 over. He thought it was much better than Moses to Hobab, 
 or the famous passage of the Jordan by Joshua and the 
 children of Israel. But his trouble was to select a suitable 
 place and time for a protracted meeting; for he thought, 
 with the help of the Holy Spirit, whenever that sermon was 
 preached, a great revival would break out ; and he would 
 have the pleasure of sending for Brothers L. and H. ; and 
 there would be no telling when it would close. 
 
 He went to more than one meeting, where he expected to 
 try his favorite, but everything did not suit — something was 
 wanting, and so he would not hold forth from the expected 
 text. But it made no ditference ; he would bide his time — it 
 would come at last. And so the parson waited for years for 
 the set time to come. He continued to read it over again 
 and again ; and concluded he knew it much better than many 
 a lesson he had said to Mr. Stafford, at Piatt Springs, in his 
 youthful days. He was sure that whenever that sermon was 
 
THE WELL-PREPARED SERMOX. 201 
 
 preached, a great impression would be made, by God's help ; 
 that at all meetings he should attend, the presiding elder 
 and others would say, " Come, Brother 'B., give us what you 
 preached from at such a place ; the friends say it was by far 
 your best effort." And he said to himself, " I expect when 
 Brothers M., and S,, and E., hear that discourse, they will 
 say, ' The parson fired off one of his big guns to-day ; ' and as 
 for my much-loved friends, K,, and B., and II., they will be 
 carried away with it, and will do some loud shouting before 
 it is finished." 
 
 But the suitable place and time, and all other surround- 
 ings, had not yet come ; and the Strange Preacher began to 
 be afraid he would have to cross the flood, and go to the 
 green fields of Eden, before he delivered his favorite sermon 
 — and what a loss would it be to his many friends. So at 
 last, he resolved to do as Mahomet did when he found that 
 the mountain would not come to him — he went to it. He 
 said to^himself, " I have a two days' meeting at Green Pond, 
 and will preach it there, whether things suit or not. I will 
 astonish the natives there, once in their lives, if never again. 
 And then when I take my trip up the country, I will try it 
 at all the camp-meetings I attend ; " and so it was aiTanged. 
 I started for Green Pond, fully convinced that, through 
 grace, a blessed revival would break out. It would take al- 
 most an hour to deliver my sermon ; my hopes were high? 
 and I felt that all would be right. I anticipated the pleasure 
 of seeing the old class-leader and many others weeping, and 
 a tremendous move through the entire crowd. I expected 
 my voice would be drowned by the loud shouting of the 
 Lord's people, and I would have to stop before I got quite 
 through. I was sure that Brother H, — who generally put 
 me ahead — would be present, and would say to himself, "The 
 best thing to be done, is for me not to add another word, lest 
 I spoil the great impression ; but I will call up mourners at 
 once ; for this meeting will of course be protracted, and I 
 will have enough to do." 
 
 The parson got there on Saturday, full of expectation. 
 There were not many out ; and Brother H. said, '* Brother 
 B., I wish you would preach to-day, as you are much nevjer 
 13 
 
202 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 hero thiin 1 am, and tlicrc arc ho few out." Something im- 
 pressed the parson with this thought — "You had better" try 
 the new text to-day, as the turn-out is so small ; and should 
 you make a failure, you would not mind it so much as j'ou 
 would to-morrow, when a crowded house will be out." But 
 he thought there was no danger of a failure ; and so he would 
 not fire olf his right-hand barrel, which was loaded with 
 pelters, but tried something else. 
 
 A tremendous crowd was out the next day ; several had 
 to remain outside. The services commenced, and the'Strange 
 Preacher gave out his text. He hoped, through grace, to 
 sweep every thing before him. For a while, he went on as 
 well as heart could wish — all was bright — the congregation 
 silent and attentive; but, O, my soul! he suddenly forgot 
 w^hat was to come next. He w^as dreadfully bothered, for h^ 
 had no recollection of what had been prepared, and could 
 think of nothing to say in its place. The perspiration 
 streamed down his face, and he knew not w^iat to do ; but 
 he talked on at random for a few moments, and then sat 
 down. He wished he was an^^where else but at Green Pond ; 
 his head was bowed down, for he was in the depth of the 
 valley. After a while, he said to himself, " Since I was de- 
 termined to preach that sermon, I wish I had tried it yes- 
 terday, when there were so few out." If ever the parson 
 counted chickens before they were hatched, that was a time. 
 
 ;More than tw^enty years ago, I had a two days' meeting at 
 Ebenezer, on the Walterboro circuit. I thought, that if I 
 met with encouragement, I would protract a day or two ; 
 ^nd was in hope that it would be kept up even longer. So 
 I went prepared for a big meeting. My friend. Brother 
 Green was then on the circuit, and I left word for him to 
 hurry down as soon as he could. I had some good friends 
 there, and hoped to enjoy myself much with them. There 
 were a few hardened sinners in the neighborhood, whose 
 hearts I thought might be reached, which would create such 
 an impression that it would be wrong to discontinue the 
 meeting. These arrangements were made — such a subject 
 was selected for Saturday, such a one for Sunday, and so on 
 to the end. Xow for the meeting, where Brother Alfred 
 
BEATING A RETREAT. 203 
 
 Eaysor was the class-leader — a pious, holy man, one of the 
 salt of the earth, I knew Brother Box Eobinson would be 
 there, and would sing his old song, beginning — 
 
 '' The richest man I ever saw, 
 Was one that begged the most. 
 And a-begging I will go." 
 
 There was a small turn-out on Saturday, and nothing very 
 promising in the services ; but on vSunday there was a large 
 congregation — almost a camp-meeting in miniature. I won- 
 dered where they all came from ; for there were even more 
 than I expected. But, alas! for the preacher! the Holy 
 Spirit was not present, as he had hoped. I became much 
 discouraged, and my feelings were at the opposite extreme 
 of buoyant hope. I was willing to quit, but had promised to 
 wait till Brother G. came ; and I began to wish I had not 
 left word for him to hasten down with his flag unfurled. I 
 gave out a meeting for the next day ; but had lost all hope 
 of doing anything. On Monday morning there was a little 
 handful, and a very cold time. I could stand it no longer ; 
 but sounded a retreat, and called off my forces. I started 
 for home, hoping Brother G. had not got my message ; for 
 as much as I respected him, I did not wish to meet him that 
 day. But who was that I saw coming down the road ? It 
 was Brother G., with his "banner on the outer wall." I 
 stopped, for I knew what to expect ; he pulled off his hat, and 
 bowed very low, expressing much surprise at meeting me, as 
 he had been told I did not expect to return for a fortnight, 
 and wished him to hasten to my help. He said, he expected 
 to find me sweeping everything before me, and to hear that 
 Captain S. and several others had joined the church, O, my 
 soul ! what a different tale I had to tell ; and I remember 
 his hearty laugh to this day. 
 
 There was a neighborhood on the Savannah river, where 
 our church had been doing nothing for several years, and 
 where I was once requested to hold a two days' meeting, 
 with the preacher on the circuit. He told me, I had not 
 been tnere for a long time, and the friends were anxious for 
 me to go once more ; and that as it would be a suitable time 
 
204 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 we would protract the meeting — so I. must go prepared to 
 remain two weeks. I promised him to do so, and made 
 every arrangement ; and left home expecting to be absent a 
 fortnight. I thought of it constantly, and concluded what 
 sermons would suit the occasion. I had some beautiful pieces 
 of poetry, which I thought to bring in during the meeting. 
 These I repeated to myself as I went along ; I did not miss 
 a word — all was right. After much reflection, I had resolved 
 to use this text on Saturday — '• Our feet shall stand within 
 thy gates, O, Jerusalem! " for this would prepare the church, 
 through grace, and they would be ready to come to the help 
 of the Lord against the mighty. On Sunday, the house 
 would not accommodate the large crowd; and I would 
 preach from John xi. 48 ; and the. meeting would be protrac- 
 ted ; and on Monday I would take David's charge to Solomon. 
 When near the church, I stopped for private i)rayer. The 
 Lord blessed his servant, and I was in fine spirits ; and felt 
 almost like clapping my hands, and saying, " Farewell 
 world ! " There was only one more house to pass, where 
 I would get some fresh water, and then be ready for the 
 meeting. I drove up to the gate, not expecting to see any- 
 body but the servants, as I expected the family to be at 
 church ; but I was quite surprised to see the lady of the 
 house come out. I said to myself, " She is looking for so 
 much company, she could not go out to-day." The water 
 was handed to me ; before I drank it, she told me that she 
 did not expect to see'me. "What!" said I, "is there not a 
 two days' meeting at the church?" She answered, that 
 they were expecting me four weeks before — that there was 
 a great disappointment when I did not come — the house 
 could not hold the congregation on Sunday ; and Brother C. 
 had said he was afraid I was sick, for I was noted for filling 
 my appointments. I never was so cast down, so disap- 
 pointed, in my life — after riding so far, and not to be ex- 
 pected. I stood for a while without drinking the water, 
 though I was very thirsty. O, my soul ! what a fall to all 
 my high hoj^es was that ! I counted on my chickens there ; 
 but none of them were hatched. 
 
LEAF THE THIETY-FIEST. 
 
 A MEMENTO TO MY DEPARTED FRIENDS, THE THREE GREAT 
 HEROES OF THE OLD BARNWELL CIRCUIT, AND BINNAKERS 
 
 CAMP-GROUND BROTHERS HENRY HOLMAN, DAVID FEEDER, 
 
 AND GEORGE RILEY. 
 
 Heiirv Holman, all hail! departed friend. I never can 
 forget thee, though thou hast long been removed from my 
 sight. Brother H. joined the church long before I did ; and 
 was a whole-souled, devoted Christian — a man of much faith, 
 and hope, and love — a Methodist of the old school, one who 
 possessed a heart-felt religion. He often became very happy, 
 when he would praise God aloud, regardless of the opinions 
 of others ; and his house was one of the most pleasant homes 
 for the preachers of the gospel that I ever visited in all my 
 roving life. And his children were worthy of such a father; 
 of gentle, kind, winning manners — loving the church and the 
 blessed Saviour. His Avife was a woman-^mong a thousand. 
 I have spent many happy hours with Brother Holman's 
 family. He always met me with a smile, and a shake of the 
 hand, which went to my heart. He filled a high place in my 
 affections, and I loved him much. He was one of the chief 
 supporters of the Barnwell circuit, during the whole of his 
 Christian life ; was a class-leader of the primitive order of 
 Methodism ; and was famous for his constant observance of 
 all the means of grace — attending church both on the Sab- 
 bath and week-day. He was the leader of that same church, 
 by the door of which I rode on the holy Sabbath, with my 
 gun across my saddle ; and he told me afterwards, that at 
 the time he had no idea of ever hearing me preach in that 
 house. 
 
 I have had the great pleasure of numbering Brother H. 
 amon^ my friends, from the time I first knew him well, till 
 the day of his death ; and during the whole time, I think I 
 never' saw him, and we met often, but that he was happy 
 and contented. He was fond of attending protracted and 
 
206 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 camp-meetings; and Binnakers camp-ground was a much- 
 loved ])lace to him — the earth, the trees, were all very dear 
 to him ; and I suspect he thought more of the Edisto than 
 of all the other rivers of his native land, because it flowed so 
 near his dear old camp-ground. I know that many of our 
 preachers have not yet forgotten the hero of Binnakers — 
 who generally occupied the same seat, and always appeared 
 to like the preaching so much, no matter who was in the 
 pulpit. He, and all his family, sung well ; and it was a great 
 pleasure for me to listen to them. I have attended many 
 glorious meetings with Brother H. ; for wherever he went 
 he was a host within himself. I have known several per- 
 sons, whose presence was a great advantage to me while 
 preaching, and he was one of the men ; for I think, with the 
 help of the Lord, I never made a total failure, when the hero 
 of Binnakers was in the congregation, to strengthen me with 
 his inspiring presence. Since his death, I have missed him 
 much ; but at no time so much as when trying to preach. 
 
 I am thinking now of a time of wonderful power at Binna- 
 kers. The vast crowd seemed to be under the influence of the 
 Spirit. The meeting was good from the first, for Dr. Capers 
 was there ; and it was a season of rejoicing for the people of 
 the Lord. But the time of which I speak was the 3 o'clock 
 service of the holy Sabbath, and my respected friend, Bro- 
 ther E. Felder, was to preach. He was at a loss what sub- 
 ject to take, and advised with me about it. Preachers are 
 sometimes so situated, and it is a rather unpleasant position 
 to be in. Let me paint the scene for you. 
 
 The horn had blown, and a large congregation was wait- 
 ing. I w^alked to the stand with Brother F., whose mind 
 was not yet made up. The prayer was over, and he gave 
 out, " Come, let us join our friends above ; " which was sung 
 to a new tune. The Holy Spirit descended upon the congre- 
 gation, bearing every thing before it. Perhaps such a sight 
 was never seen before, at that time-honored place. The in- 
 terest manifested w^as deep and wide, for the Eternal Jehovah 
 himself was preaching ; and, of course, Brother F. said no- 
 thing but "Glory! " and I think Brother H. was as happy as 
 any one else present. Several of the preachers were pros- 
 
AT THE GATES OF DEATH. 207 
 
 trated in the altar. There was no sermon preached by Bro- 
 ther Felder that evening; for when he finished the hymn, 
 some one requested it to be sung again, which was done. A 
 crowd of mourners came up, and there were man}^ conver- 
 sions. It was a time never to be forgotten by those who 
 witnessed it. 
 
 More than twenty j^ears ago, I had returned from a camp- 
 meeting in North Carolina, and was soon after taken very 
 sick. I was at the gates of death ; several physicians were 
 with me, and my life was despaired of. There were two 
 camp-meetings going on at the same time — one at Carmel, 
 and the other at Binnakers ; and it was known at both 
 places how ill I was, and earnest prayer was offered in my 
 behalf — and I suspect that had more to do with my recovery 
 than 9II the doctors put together. One night, there was 
 little hope of my living till morning. At Binnakers, that 
 blessed man of God, Brother Pierce, addressed the church at 
 some length, requesting them to exercise faith while praying 
 for me, and he thought I would be spared to them. Brother 
 Kirkland then invited those who wished to pray for me to 
 come around the altar; and many who were not members of 
 the church came forward. The next morning, Brother H. 
 was sent to see how I was, and found me a little better. He 
 was allowed to see me for a few moments ; but was told, that 
 unless he controlled himself, they would send him out. O, 
 how well I remember that morning ! Many days after, when 
 I was much better, he came to see me : the doctors were not 
 there, and we had an old-time shout together. 
 
 Farewell! dear brother of my soul; 1 prized thy love 
 much more than the gold of this world. Thy warfare is 
 over, thy pilgrimage is ended, and thou art saved in heaven ; 
 and I hope, when the time comes for me to cross the flood, 
 that Brother Holman's sainted spirit, with many other loved 
 ones, will be there, and my blessed Saviour, with his rod and 
 staff, will be with me, to comfort and support me as I cross 
 over the valley. 
 
 Father David Felder was one of the best of Christian men 
 that I ever had the pleasure of numbering among my friends. 
 He was worth his weight in gold, more than twice told. He 
 
4 
 
 208 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 had ilniiik of the water which the Saviour offered to the 
 woman of Samaria, and thirsted no more for the vanities 
 and pleasures of this world. lie was a pi-imitive Methodist 
 in life, dress, and every thing. Whoever travelled the Barn- 
 well circuit in the olden days, will always remember the old 
 class-leader and steward, who always enjoyed the comforts 
 of religion. I do not recollect ever having seen him cast 
 down or depressed ; but he appeared to be on the mountain- 
 top at all times — ready and waiting for his summons to the 
 better world. It seemed to me, that through grace, he was 
 one of those sanctified men, who would l)e found prepared at 
 any time for the Master's coming; and he looked to me, as 
 if you might read these words in his face — " Come, my 
 blessed Saviour; and come quickly." He was one of the 
 chief pillars of the church long before I embraced religion ; 
 and he had manj^ tales to tell of the old preachers, and of 
 the days when the few Methodists who were in the District 
 were shunned by others. I respected and revered father 
 Felder much ; and I often wished I was as well prepared fer 
 judgment as I thought he was. I have spent many never- 
 to-be-forgotten hours under his friendly roof. He was res- 
 pected b}^ all who knew him well ; though I have heard that 
 in his younger dnja he was wild and wicked — living without 
 Christ in the world ; and that he was convicted in a very 
 remarkable manner. He was at a log-rolling w^ith some 
 friends, where they were enjoying themselves by working 
 and drinking. The work was over, and the spirits had given 
 out before the end of the day ; and the party, at Brother F.'s 
 suggestion, concluded to amuse themselves by listening to a 
 sermon which he was to preach. So they gathered around 
 where he was standing on the top of a barrel. He gave out 
 his text, which was simply "Gin;" and spoke at some length 
 on the ruinous effects of strong drink upon the character, 
 health, and fortunes of men who lived such a life ; and then 
 spoke of the spiritual ruin which often followed — the eternal 
 loss of the soul amid the flames of hell. Suddenly, he looked 
 down to note the effect of his preaching on the drinking 
 party, and found them all serious, some in tears. He leaped 
 down from his pulpit, and hastened home, deeply convicted, 
 
FATHER DAVID FELDER. 209 
 
 dreading the wrath to come and a sin-avenging God. He 
 did not rest until he found the Saviour in the forgiveness of 
 his sins ; and then he joined the church, and became a vali- 
 ant soldier of the cross — the war-worn veteran of a thousand 
 battles fought in the service of his Master. 
 
 I have had the pleasure of being at some interesting meet- 
 ings with the now sainted patriarch of the Barnwell circuit ; 
 and he reminded me of some of those great heroes, who, 
 having followed the fortunes of the son of Jesse, during all 
 his roving life, until he was made king of Israel, became the 
 strong supporters of his throne, some of whom had single- 
 handed slain hundreds of his foes. Such a warrior was David 
 Felder — one of those immortal men whose names will live 
 for ever. I never met him without feeling that I was in the 
 presence of one of the princes of our Israel. My much-loved 
 father respected him highly, and often said to me, " I wish 
 all members of the church were such Christians as Mr. David 
 Felder." He was a man full of the Holy G-liost, of hope, and 
 of love. But the patriarch of Barnwell circuit and Binnakers 
 camp-ground has long since gone to his great reward. Fare- 
 well ! father Felder ; you, too, have fought the good fight, 
 you have kept the faith, and you have finished your course, 
 and have won the crown. 
 
 While speaking of such men as Brothers Holman and Fel- 
 der, I thought I would be doing wrong to say nothing of 
 my much-respected friend George Eiley — the just, the up- 
 right, and the Christian hero — the man " without blemish 
 and reproach." As far as I know, he led a blameless life be- 
 fore heaven and earth. He was devoted and thorough-going, 
 fully bound for heaven. And he was a true friend to the 
 preachers on the Barnwell circuit. When I stood up to 
 preach, I was glad to see him in the congregation ; for then 
 I knew there was one present who would pray for me, and 
 who was a host v*^ithin himself. He was a man of few words, 
 but well spoken, and always in the right place. He was 
 serious and grave, but seldom cast down ; a man among 
 men, and a hero among heroes ; a true knight of the cross, 
 whom heaven loved, and hell respected. I have often en- 
 joyed myself much in his company. It was a pleasure to 
 
210 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 him and his pious Avife for the preachers to go to sec them ; 
 and they were treated so kindly, that no doubt the heralds 
 of the cross loved to go to that home of the preachers — Bro- 
 ther I?iley's house. 
 
 But the good man has gone to the rest which remains for 
 the people of God. Farewell ! to the three old heroes of 
 Barnwell circuit and Binnakers camp-ground. Xo wonder 
 that the holy place has seen its best days — that its glory 
 has departed ; for the three strongest members have passed 
 away, and there are none to take their places. O, ye de- 
 parted friends of my soul, I bid you all hail ! and I hope you 
 think of me sometimes, while walking the golden streets of 
 the Jerusalem above. I can never forget you. I have seen 
 much of sorrow and trouble since you left met ; but my Sa- 
 viour has often comforted and strengthened me while toiling 
 on through this unfriendly world. Amazing grace has saved 
 me thus far, and I hope will save me to the end of life's pil- 
 grimage, when I hope to meet all the departed loved ones 
 on the banks of eternal deliverance, to part no more ; and, 
 O! what a time of rejoicing it will be, Avhen the friends who 
 have loved on earth shall meet in glory, to be separated no 
 more. Happy, thrice happy, dead ! you are now for ever 
 freed from the cares and troubles of life, which often press 
 so heavily upon your friends left behind. You were taken 
 home to rest. You were removed from the evil to come. 
 You were spared the sad sight of your ruined country, and 
 its departed glory. You are now saved in heaven, and are 
 rejoicing for evermore. AVhen done with the sorrows of 
 earth, I hope to praise the Lord with you in endless day. 
 
 ^' Our old companions in distress, 
 We haste again to see ; 
 ^ And eager long for our release, 
 
 And full felicity. 
 E'en now by faith we join our hands 
 
 With those that went before ; 
 And greet the blood-besprinkled bands, 
 On the eternal shore." 
 
LEAF THE THIETY-SECOl^D. 
 
 MEETINGS AT OLD ZION ; AND THE LAST FRESHET IN THE 
 
 EDISTO. 
 
 After old Pine Grove was discontinued as a place of wor- 
 ship, old Zion took its place, and was one of the chief places 
 on the old Waltsrboro circuit. It is on the road leading from 
 Baixiberg- to Walterboro, near one of the oldest and most fa- 
 mous mills in Barnwell District ; but I am sorry to say, I am 
 afraid both have seen their best days. There they stand — 
 but, O, what a falling off! Who, that remembers their former 
 glory, does not now feel sad at their decline ? 
 
 Old Zion was famous for large congregations, and lively 
 meetings ; and the old mill for the great business which was 
 carried on there. But now a very small band meets at Zion, 
 unless an extra occasion brings them from a distance ; and, 
 comparativel}^ speaking, but little business is now done at 
 the mill. But look at them in another light. At the mill, 
 cotton was ginned, lumber sawed, and corn and wheat 
 ground, and a great deal of money made — and the physical 
 man was clothed and sustained. At old Zion, the gospel 
 was, and is still, preached — and the spiritual man supported. 
 I see that some persons have recently commenced to re^Dair 
 the mill, which seems to me like dressing up in bridal robes 
 an old maid of three score years ; but I hope they will suc- 
 ceed in restoring it to its former prosperity. How would it 
 do for the church, sometimes, to take a lesson from the 
 world ? Suppose the friends of old Zion, try to restore, by 
 more prayer, faith, and fasting, the old church to her former 
 glory, and high estate. 1 wish so much they would endea- 
 vor, by the help of the Lord, to bring back the days of "auld 
 lang syne." When 1 pass by the time-honored house, and 
 think of the crowds which used to assemble there, and the 
 change that has taken place, I feel like saying, "How the 
 ways of Zion mourn, for none come to her solemn feasts." 
 But, O ! what blessed seasons I have seen there ! — days of 
 
212 STRAY i.eavp:s. 
 
 immortal remembrance! What a tale that sacred house, 
 and those venerable trees, might tell, could they speak — but 
 how silent they are ! O! ye ha})py dead, who worshipped 
 there, I hope you sometimes think of the old church, and 
 the few friends still left behind ; and while praising the Lord 
 in the heavenly Zion, I trust jtju have not entirely forgotten 
 your old Zion on the AValterboro circuit. I am sad when I 
 pass by there now, and think of the olden times; and that is 
 one reason why I do not have many apj^ointments there now. 
 I hope the friends will excuse me when 1 say, that I can but 
 weep while contrasting the Zion of '37 with the Zion of 'G7. 
 O! how sadly have the times changed ! Did you ever see a 
 small band of Indians, perhaps only one family, still linger- 
 ing, still roving over the old hunting grounds where their 
 fathers had been counted by thousands ? So it is with the 
 little group of friends still left at old Zion. The old class- 
 leader still lingers near the dear old sanctuary, and I hope 
 he is still enjojHng as much of the Lord's presence as he did 
 thirty years ago. The good brother reminds me of Cooper's 
 ''Last of the Mohicans." The ancient chieftain sits almost 
 alone, amid the graves of his warriors long since gone to the 
 hunting grounds of the Great Spirit — the last of the Mohi- 
 cans yet worships the Great Spirit on the earth, and still 
 sings the much-loved songs of his tribe, near the junction of 
 the Lemon Swamp and the Saltketcher. To see the old 
 soldier of the cross, as I expect he is sometimes seen, sitting 
 with his head bowed down, in the old church, waiting for 
 the little band, some one might say, " there is Marius weep- 
 ing amid the ruins of Carthage." I have heard more than 
 one of the friends of that old hero of the Walterboro circuit, 
 remark, that they did not think he was as happy in his Sa- 
 viour's love now, as in the days of" auld lang syne." Perhaps 
 not, for I do truly believe from my heart, that I could not 
 have held out as Brother Muse has, had I been similarly 
 situated, for the last twenty years — worshipping at the Zion 
 church, when her glory had departed. Without more grace 
 and help from God than' I generally have had, I know it 
 would have been almost, if not quite, the spiritual death of 
 the Strange Preacher. Some persons require a change of 
 
THE BITTER COLD DAY. 213 
 
 scenery and other things, to do well, and I am one of those. 
 When I first joined the church, and after 1 had begun to 
 preach, my loved father, who saw in me a disposition to 
 rove, told me he wished I would confine myself all the time 
 to two churches — Zion and Clark's chapel, preaching at the 
 two alternately, as long as I continued to preach, j^ow, 
 take twenty of my friends, who know me well, and put it to 
 vote ; and I suspect eighteen of the number would say, it 
 would have been the spiritual death of the AVar Preacher. 
 
 During my long rides — for I usually go alone — I have 
 often turned aside, and gone into the old church, and read in 
 the blessed Book of God, and bowed before the heavenly 
 throne, and felt my heart strengthened by my Eedeemer. 
 What times of rejoicing I have then had, when alone in the 
 holy place ! Many years ago, 1 was thus alone in old Zion, 
 when some friends, who knew my horse, passed by ; they 
 stopped, and came in, and we prayed together, and the Lord 
 of Hosts was with us. I hope the class-leader of Tabernacle 
 remembers that morning, I have, on going there, often 
 found the door locked, but I had been told where to find the 
 key always. 
 
 While writing these lines, I have been wondering if the 
 holy angels still hover over the much-loved place, as they 
 did in the olden days : but I am afraid not ; and O, my soul ! 
 what a pity ! We read in the Bible about the angels of the 
 churches ; I hope if Zion has a guardian angel, he will never 
 desert the old church. And I trust he will soon begin to 
 come twice, where has been coming once — at least, as long- 
 as the "last of the Mohicans" lives, and continues to sing 
 the much-loved songs of his tribe. 
 
 Near thirty years ago, I was once going there to an ap- 
 pointment. It was an awful day for travelling — the icy king 
 had thrown his mantle over the ground, and icicles were 
 hanging all around the houses. The young trees were say- 
 ing their prayers with bowed heads ; but the old pines and 
 oaks, like hard-hearted sinners, stood erect. As Brother 
 Durant would say, the storm king was rousing himself from 
 his slumber ; and it was a day as dreadful as that night, on 
 which, Thomson says, no man ought to turn his enemy's dog 
 
214 STRAY LEAA^ES. 
 
 from his door. My dear -wife entreated me not to go — that 
 it was wrong to do so, as I might thereby catch my death ; 
 also alleging that no one would be there. I told her, I knew 
 three friends would be there ; and I did not wish to disap- 
 point them. So I started, but had to dismount occasionally, 
 and walk a little, to keep from freezing. I had some ten 
 miles to go. A young friend of mine, one of the sisters of 
 Zion, although knowing I was noted for filling my appoint- 
 ments, thought I would fail that day, and then she would 
 mark it down with red ink, and show it to me on my next 
 visit to her home ; but her husband told her, he expected 
 me to come. She said, " no," she was sure Brother B. would 
 be missing that day. So she sat down near a window, in a 
 warm room (as she told me afterwards), to look out for me, 
 and in case I did not pass, to mark me down as missing. All 
 but five minutes of the allotted time had passed, and she 
 was ready with pen in hand; when her husband said, "there 
 he goes now." I was almost frozen in my stirrups, while the 
 young trees were saying their prayers, with, bowed heads, 
 and the old pines, like hardened sinners, stood erect. 
 
 AVhen I got to the church, I found no one there, and I 
 walked about for some time to restore my blood to proper 
 circulation ; and soon the three expected friends came. We 
 had faith in each other, and sung and prayed together. I 
 remember that holy Sabbath well, and I hope Brother Muse 
 has not forgotten the time. Old Zion, thou dear old house 
 of the Lord ! I love thee still ! I will love thee always ! But 
 I go there seldom now ; for it makes me so sad. when I con- 
 trast the present with the olden time — when Brother Eason 
 Smith and his pious wife, with several others, would greet 
 me so kindly ; and when sister Copeland, the sweet singer 
 of the church, would sing my much-loved songs for me ; and 
 Brother Muse would pray as if he had a strong hold on the 
 horns of "the altar. 
 
 I have attended so many glorious meetings there, that I 
 hardly know which to speak of; but must speak of some of 
 the best of them. When Brother Howell — one of our local 
 preachers, who lived in a fine house near the old mill, and 
 who kept one of the best tables on the circuit, and always 
 
THE DISGUISED GENTLEMAN. 215 
 
 treated his friends kindly — was with us, laboring with much 
 zeal and earnestness, we had a most glorious meeting. The 
 house was often filled to overflowing. Brother Linda, from 
 Little Swamp, was with us, too, with his flag waving fear- 
 lessly. He was fond of singing with his Zion friends in the 
 olden times. . The meeting lasted almost a fortnight, and 
 the blessed Spirit was with us. Brother H. kept an open 
 house for saint and sinner, and made his friends feel quite at 
 home. The altar was often crowded with mourners ; and 
 Brothers Muse, and Steadly, and Smith, and Eentz, and 
 many others, seemed to me, if it was the Lord's will, to be 
 ready to bid adieu to this unfriendly world, and go to the 
 green fields of Eden. O, my soul ! what immortal times we 
 had at that holy place of prayer! and what shouts of joy 
 went up from the holy sanctuary, as the mourning souls 
 were happily converted, and the angels carried the glad 
 tidings to heaven, that the broken-hearted had been healed, 
 and the sinners pardoned ! The few friends who are still 
 alive, will remember the time. I know Brother H. preached 
 and prayed as if he was fully sprung, and swung clear in 
 those happy days of " auld lang syne." Every now and 
 then, the Strange Preacher would clap his hands, and cry 
 out " Farewell world ! " 
 
 I recollect one night well. It was rather cold for the sea- 
 son, and a fire was burning outside. There was a large 
 turn-out, and we had a season of rejoicing. There was in 
 the neighborhood a gentleman of talent and position, who 
 seldom attended church. For many years, his face had not 
 been seen at that place of prayer and praise. But having 
 heard so much about the great meeting at the mill, I sup- 
 pose, he made uj) his mind to attend in a disguise, so that he 
 would not be recognized, except by those to whom he told 
 his secret. He remained outside at the fire, so that he could 
 hear the preaching without going into the house. I have 
 forgotten who preached ; but if it was Brother H., the dis- 
 guised gentleman might have stood farther ofl*, and heard 
 every word. There was a tremendous move in the congre- 
 gation, and many mourners came up, and the walls rang 
 w4th the rejoicings of the Lord's people. The persons out- 
 
216 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Bide became somewhat interested, and came nearer, that 
 they might see better what was going on inside. One of 
 that f^entleman's party stood in the door, so as to be nearer 
 still, and the good Spirit took hold of him, and he was most 
 deeply convicted. The pains of hell were upon him, and he 
 rushed up to the altar, where he fell prostrate, and cried 
 aloud in the agony of his soul. The disguised gentleman 
 became much excited, and wanted to go in to see what was 
 being done to his friend to cause him to lament so. I was 
 told he was kept back by force. O, how I wish he might 
 have been allowed to come in ! for then he might have been 
 overthrown by the power of the Highest, and the prince of 
 hell might have lost one of his standard bearers that memo- 
 rable night. Many united with the church — among them, 
 I think, two of Brother Howell's children. Several were 
 happily converted. From beginning to end, the Lord was 
 graciously manifested in our midst ; and the camp of Israel 
 moved on from victory to victory ; w^hile the flag of Calvary 
 waved over the ransomed of the Lord. 
 
 I remember another meeting which took place there in 
 the olden times, when two of my respected friends from 
 Sumter were with us — Brothers Felder and Eichardson. 
 Having been with them so often, I persuaded them to give 
 us a two days' meeting. Both were good preachc,rs ; yet 
 there was the greatest difference in the manner and style. 
 Brother F. was a true son of thunder — strong, forcible, and 
 at times powerful — a famous singer, and sometimes over- 
 whelming in prayer. When in strong supplication he be- 
 sieged the throne of grace, by the help of the Lord, he 
 swept every thing before him, and both saint and sinner 
 would be completely cut loose from their moorings. Bro- 
 ther F. makes jon think of a giant of the forest, with a 
 mighty club, driving every thing before him. On the other 
 hand, Brother E. was gentle and winning — stealing softly 
 his way to the hearts of his hearers. At times, he w^as like 
 a beautiful brooklet, kissing the pebbles as it rolled over 
 them. And then again, he would remind you of, a calm, 
 broad lake, with snow-white swans sailing gracefully over 
 its deep water, while the busy fisherman would be seen pty- 
 
THE WOMAN OF SAMAEIA. 217 
 
 ing their trade, and while the palaces of the wealthy, and the 
 humble cottages of the honest poor, might be seen mirrored 
 low down in the deep water. And then, again, he would 
 make saint and sinner fall in love with him, for he would 
 remind them so much of some gallant crusader returning 
 from the Holy Land, and Avinning the fair lady by sweet 
 music played under her window, while the virgin moon 
 wished she were nearer that she might hear better. 
 
 I met them at Midway, and pleasantly travelled with 
 them to Zion. It was their first and last appointment there. 
 We had l)een looking to the meeting with much interest ; for 
 I had told the friends of these brethren, and expectation was 
 high. Brother E. had an old friend in the neighborhood — 
 the honorable disguised gentleman ; they had formerly been 
 very intimate, but had not met for some time, and Brother 
 E. was anticipating much pleasure from the meeting. He 
 also hoped, through grace, to reach the heart of his old com- 
 rade ; if no more, to cause him to think more seriously of 
 religion than he had apparently done for years. On Satur- 
 day, we had a good turn-out for the day ; and the friends 
 were presented to the ministers, and arrangements were 
 made for the different services. Brother E. preached the 
 first sermon ; his subject was, the Lord telling the Avoman 
 of Samaria, that if she had asked of him, he would have 
 given her " the living water." This was, in some respects, 
 the most interesting sermon that had been delivered there 
 for a long time. His introduction Avas most beautiful ; he 
 spoke of the surrounding scenery, and the holy memories 
 connected thercAvith. The third great patriarch, and his 
 family, and his many flocks broAvsing on the rich pastures, 
 rose before us as large as life. He also spoke of some of the 
 great events that occurred in that neighborhood ; and then 
 the blessed Saviour and his apostles, dust covered and Aveary, 
 were seen toiling along the highway, while the gentle winds of 
 Palestine stirred their flowing locks. And the kind Teacher, 
 as he passed some striking object in the beautiful landscaj^e, 
 stopped and drew some truthful lesson from the objects be- 
 fore them. And thus he passed on, until he reached Jacob's 
 well, where he sat down weary and faint, while his disciples 
 14 
 
218 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 went for somethinn; to sustain the mortal life. And then we 
 beheld ho plainly the Eastern woman, as she, with pitcher 
 in hand, hastened to the well. And a sermon which well 
 suited the preface followed. All I heard speak of it were 
 much pleased. Brother II. and myself expressed a strong 
 wish that the sermon could have been reserved for Sunday. 
 That day we dined and spent the night at Brother Howell's. 
 Brother K. was disappointed that his friend was not out, and 
 hoped he would be there the next day. 
 
 Brother F. preached that night, and we had quite a crowd 
 out. His loud voice rang through the house and surrounding 
 woods; and Brother H. concluded that he preached even 
 louder than he himself did. What a gracious night that was, 
 through the mercy of God ! The Lord was in his holy tem- 
 ple ; and his stately steps were heard amid the golden candle- 
 sticks. And the servants of the Lord rejoiced in the hope 
 of heaven, when the toils of life should be over, in blessed 
 eternity. 
 
 The holy Sabbath was a bright, beautiful day ; the inter- 
 esting services of the morning were over, and the hour for 
 preaching had come. Many persons w^ere out — some coming 
 from a distance. Brother E. delivered the first sermon ; but 
 he was complaining of a headache, as he had not rested well 
 the past night. And besides all this, he had heard that his 
 friend was not there, which cast down his spirits very much. 
 He gave us a good discourse, but not equal to the one the 
 day before. 
 
 Brother Felder preached the last sermon, and swung clear 
 from first to last. His " banner was on the outer wall, for 
 the cry was, still they come." He spoke loud, strong, 
 powerfully — and the sound of his Master's steps was heard 
 close behind him. The shout of a king was in the camp of 
 Israel ; and the Holy Spirit came down upon the congrega- 
 tion. The church roused herself, and came willingly to the 
 help of the Lord against the mighty. Mourners crowded 
 the altar ; and a desperately wicked man rushed up, as if 
 fleeing from the open mouth of hell. We had an old-time 
 meeting, which would have been protracted for several days, 
 had it been a suitable time of the year. 
 
SHRINKING FROM DUTY. 219 
 
 More than thirty-one years ago — some time before I_^T3egau 
 to preach — there was a quarterly meeting at old Zion. Often 
 in those days (I am very sorry for it, but so it was), I would 
 be ashamed to have family prayer before persons who were 
 not members of the church. One night, two ladies, who ex- 
 pected to attend the meeting, stopped with us — one of them 
 my wife's mother, and the other her aunt, who was a mem- 
 ber of the church. Her mother was not, and — would you 
 believe it ? — I refused to have family prayer before them. 
 'No persuasion of my wife prevailed with me. I was at the 
 time an exhorter, and of course did wrong ; I ought to have 
 been ashamed of myself. I was told, they expected it, and 
 asked if I did not discharge the duty; but I could not be 
 induced to take up that cross. They sat up late, expecting 
 me to hold forth ; but not until they retired, did I o what 
 I had done before — pray with my wife. I felt I had done 
 wrong, but so it was. The next morning, we went down to 
 Zion. I was much cast down, for my wife had told me how 
 sorry she was that I had acted as I did ; that her aunt was 
 quite surprised "at it. That Sabbath was a famous day at 
 the old church ; and all the services were solemn and inter- 
 esting. The preached Avord did not return empty ; but the 
 good pleasure of the Lord was accomplished. A good im- 
 pression rested on the congregation ; the Holy Spirit was 
 strongly manifested in reproving of sin, of righteousness, 
 and of a judgment to come. The camp of Israel marched 
 on in glorious triumph ; and the flag of redemption waved 
 over the host of the Lord. The door of the church was 
 opened, and, to my surprise, Mr. Carson and his wife, who 
 had not long moved down from the up-country, joined, and 
 he is now the leader of Providence. And, to my still greater 
 surprise and pleasure, my dear wife's iiiother also united 
 with the church. It was a gracious meeting, of happy re- 
 membrance, at time-honored Zion. I got a great blessino- 
 that day, though I deserved it not ; but it was of the free, 
 boundless mercy of the Most High. I was much encourao-ed 
 — much strengthened ; and I went home rejoicing in the 
 hope of immortality, far beyond the "blue throned stars," 
 where sickness and sorrow are known and felt no more. 
 
220 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 And I firmly resolved, by the grace of the Lord, that I 
 would never again refuse to conduct family prayer before 
 the world ; and thus far I have faced that fire, bless the 
 the Lord, O ! my soul. 
 
 '- But," says one, " what about the last freshet in the 
 Edisto ?" I will tell you; but you must not require names. 
 It is not a very pleasant subject to me ; which is my reason 
 for putting it off so long. You must know, then, that when 
 the Wandering Arab is much excited, if he receives an unex- 
 pected check, or damper to his spirits, the reaction is some- 
 times tremendous, and the tide turns down the other way, 
 with the force of a mountain torrent, bearing every thing 
 with it. Or, in other words, the preacher is as suddenly de- 
 pressed, as his spirits have been exalted; and if this comes 
 from an unexpected quarter — from some one whom ha con- 
 sidered very zealous, and enjoying much religion — he feels 
 nearly as distressed as the great Caesar did, when the much- 
 loved Brutus stabbed him. But, alas ! for the Strange 
 Preacher ; he cannot yield to his fate with the grace that 
 the mighty Eoman did. 
 
 Well then, my friends, you must know that once in the 
 olden time, in the month of July, there was a very high 
 freshet in the Edisto, a few days before a meeting at old 
 Zion. The time came, we had a large crowd out — persons 
 from a long distance all around. I do not remember who 
 preached, but I know that the impression was very good. 
 It w^as deep, tremendous, overwhelming, and every thing 
 bowed before it — a time of great excitement. But the most 
 roused up of that great crowd was the Wandering Arab. 
 He was cut loose from all his moorings ; and was rushing 
 over the bar, at the rate of thirty miles to the hour. He 
 sprang to his feet;*he clapped his hands, and shouted at the 
 top of his voice, " Farewell world ! " And he went on 
 shaking hands, expecting to pass through the entire crowd, 
 perhaps even to have gone to some who w^ere outside, and 
 to beg them to let him pray for them. All this time, there 
 was a brother, of whom the parson thought much, seated 
 with his head bowed quite low. The Strange Preacher had 
 noticed him, and expected, that though very quiet, he was 
 
THE LAST EDISTO FRESHET. 221 
 
 enjoying the meeting as much as any one ; for you know, it 
 is said, that " still water runs deep." On went the Wander- 
 ing Arab, shaking hands. Brothers H. and L. threw their 
 arms around him ; and his good friend, " the last of the 
 Mohicans," gave him an embrace which he expects to re- 
 member on the other side of the flood. And on went the 
 AVar Preacher, with every flag unfurled, and his " banner on 
 the outer wall, for the cry was, still they come." He clapped 
 his hands, and called out, " Farewell world ! " About the 
 eighth person with whom he ofl'ered to shake hands, was the 
 gentleman who was sitting very still, with his head bowed 
 down. The parson was so much excited that it was with 
 difliculty he kept his feet. He told the brother, he knew he 
 was enjoying himself very much, and that he was glad to 
 see it ; and he hoped they would meet at last, when the 
 warfare was over, in the green fields of Eden, at rest for 
 evermore. The brother slowly raised his head, and with a 
 sigh, " ivio pectore,'' from the lowest depths of his troubled 
 heart, and the tears streaming from his eyes, he said, " O, 
 Brother Bellinger, Brother Bellinger ! the last freshet in the 
 Edisto has drowned all my corn; and it is too late to re- 
 plant." 
 
 " Tell it not in Gath, mention it not in Askelon, lest the 
 daughters of the Philistines rejoice." O ! my soul, what a 
 fall was there ! The far-famed War Preacher — the brave 
 soldier of a hundred stricken fields, fell from his gallant 
 steed, as if shot through the heart. We are told, that in 
 ancient times, "the woods, the streams, the flowers, the 
 birds, and the stars all wept," when Bion, the poet, died. 
 And I hope all my friends who read these lines, will feel very 
 sorry for me ; for I expect never to forget that mournful fall, 
 and the last freshet in the Edisto. 
 
 But it is time to close. All hail ! to the old Zion church, 
 and her time-houvored class-leader. All hail ! to the " last of 
 the Mohicans," who sits almost alone, amid the graves of his 
 warriors long since gone to the hunting lands of the Great 
 Spirit ; and who yet sings the much-loved songs of his tribe, 
 near the junction of the waters of the Lemon Swamp and 
 the Saltketcher. 
 
J.EAF THE THIRTY-THIRD. 
 
 MY SECOND VISIT TO KOCK SPIlIxNCS CAMP-GROUND, NORTH CAR- 
 OLINA, AND THE STAR OF II. II. DURANT AGAIN IN THE 
 ASCENDANT. 
 
 AVoll. friends, wo Avere off ac^ain for another trip to the 
 fur-famed Rock Springs. I met Brother Durant at the place 
 of appointment, and we greeted each other as friends do, 
 who have h:)ved, and who have been separated for a long 
 time. Everything was ready, and after an early dinner, we 
 drove from Lincolnton to the ground in due time. Brother 
 D. had been drilling me since we met, that I might speak 
 loud enough to be heard by the many thousands who would 
 be present. He placed himself about one hundred yards off, 
 and I was to give out a hymn loud enough for him to hear. 
 After trying very often, I succeeded in making him hear. 
 After sixteen years' absence, I was at the renowned camp- 
 ground once more ; arid the friends who remembered me 
 gathered around, and gave me a warm welcome. The im- 
 mense multitude did not impress me as at first, for I had 
 become accustomed to crowds ; and, although there may 
 have been more persons out than at my first visit, I did not 
 gaze at them with so much wonder. The several hundred 
 tents were still there, thronged to overflowing; but, O, my 
 soul ! how many who were there before had passed into the 
 spirit world. 
 
 I found many ministers on the ground — both local and 
 travelling — all armed with the panoply of heaven, prepared 
 for battle against the king of darkness. All classes of peo- 
 ple, from the highest to the lowest, could be seen there — 
 many from over a hundred miles away, who cared very 
 little for the preaching at the stand, for they seldom vv^ent 
 there. Some never went at all ; but spent their time in eat- 
 ing, drinking, and talking politics, and everything else but 
 religion. Some met there as on a kind of middle ground, 
 and exchanged visits, and drank wine, and enjoyed them- 
 
THE ROAD TO THE SPRING. 223 
 
 selves as they pleased. Members of Congress met there, to 
 settle national affairs. And there were some present, who 
 dressed so differently from the majority around them, that 
 3"0u wondered what brought them there. They moved 
 about, and talked, and looked, as if they wished it under- 
 stood that they were not made from the same clay as the 
 crowd around ; and they kept to lAiemselves as much as 
 possible. Their motto seemed to be, " I hate the profane 
 vulgar." What cared they about religion or preaching, par- 
 ticularly that of the loud-shouting Methodists? And if, by 
 mere chance, they happened to be at the stand, when there 
 was any noise or excitement, they left at once. Others went 
 there regularly ; you never missed them, their places being 
 always filled ; but they had no wish to be spiritually bene- 
 fitted, and if you expected it you would be disai:>pointed — for 
 they were there only to find fault with the services. In 
 their opinion, those preachers were the poorest they had ever 
 heard — they could do better themselves ; and as for the sing- 
 ing, that might have done, had it not been quite so loud ! 
 They believed in a silent, decent sort of religion — so silent, 
 that no one knew whether you had it or not, and which 
 would not prevent you from attending the theatre, race- 
 ground, or ball-room. Ard then when they felt like sleeping 
 under a long sermon, they had onl}- to drop their heads. 
 And after a while, when mourrers were called up, some 
 preacher would come, who thought they were under convic- 
 tion, and ask them to let him pray for them — which would 
 be a fine joke to tell their friends when they went home, 
 how the poor man was so cast down when they looked up 
 and smiled in his face, and asked him to excuse them. And 
 they could also tell their friends of a very Strange Preacher 
 who was there, who told them about the old-time heroes and 
 men — about Brutus, and Csesar, and others — who sometimes 
 made them laugh a good deal, and then again they would 
 cry in spite of all they could do. 
 
 Go with me to the good spring not far off — how cool and 
 delightful the water is ! But let us turn aside, and sit down 
 on this old log, and notice the different groups as they pass 
 to and fro. Look at that aged couple, how slowly they 
 
224 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 climb up the hill, with buckets of water, so heavy for them 
 to carry. The most of their children and grandchidren are 
 dead, or gone to the rich hinds of the West, or to California 
 to dig for gold — and they are all alone. Are you not sorry 
 for them ? Their youngest son is a preacher, and has been 
 travelling for years, from the mountains to the sea-board; 
 and their youngest daughter stayed at home to take care of 
 them, but was taken from them by death, a few months ago. 
 But let me tell you some good news about them — they love 
 the Lord, and are bound for heaven. They joined the church 
 fifty years ago, when Methodism first came into the country ; 
 and they have been coming here to camp-meeting ever since 
 the first one was held. They are happy and contented, and 
 expect to cross the flood before long. They have some in- 
 teresting tales to tell of old times. They have a snug little 
 house in a corner of the yard, which they call the prophet's 
 room. And when the preacher stops there at night, you 
 ought to be there to see how much they make of him ; and 
 when he leaves in the morning, the old lady will be sure to 
 have something to send to the parsonage. And they always 
 have a little to throw into the hat when it is passed round. 
 The preachers would be well supported, if all the members 
 were like that old man and his wife, who are carrying water 
 up the hill. They expect a minister to dine with them to- 
 day, and are glad ; perhaps it was that they were speaking 
 of as they passed us. Come now, tell me the truth ; if you 
 had known all this, would you not have offered to help 
 them? 
 
 Look to your right, at that group of young women, who 
 are coming down the hill with pails and pitchers. Notice 
 those two behind the rest, with their arms around each 
 other, with sweet flowers in their hair. The one nearest you 
 has black, the other blue, ej^es. AYhich is the prettiest ? It 
 is hard to tell. Do you know what I think of them ? It is 
 this — I doubt very much if the Assyrian maiden who won 
 Jacob's heart at the well was more lovely than those two/ 
 daughters of the old North State. / 
 
 Now, turn to your left. Did you hear that loud laugh? 
 See those young men with their coats off, and each with a 
 
THE PASSEES-BY DESCRIBED. 225 
 
 large bucket in his hands. They are coming to the spring 
 for water, and they hope to be in time to help those young 
 ladies. And perhaps they were laughing about which of 
 them should wait on those girls with the flowers in their 
 hair. Let us see who it will be. 'Now they have all passed. 
 Was it not a fine picture ? 
 
 But here comes another party of loud-talking men. How 
 rough and savage they look ! I suspect they are party of 
 " blacklegs" of the lowest grade ; for there are a number of 
 such on the ground, and they were up last night playing 
 cards. They are coming to the spring now, I guess, to take 
 at least two drinks of rum, and then they will retire to the 
 woods, to play until near sunset. Those men are up to any 
 thing that is bad ; and I would be afraid to meet those two 
 desperate looking fellows in front, in some lonely place by 
 myself. 
 
 But the crowd is constantly passing and re-passing. Who 
 comes next ? Hoav silent are those who are now passing ! 
 Let us watch them. See, they have passed the spring with- 
 out stopping. Let us stand up, and notice them as long as 
 we can, and try to find out what they are going to do. Now 
 they stop, and uncover their heads. I know now who they 
 are. They are a company of young men who have been up 
 for prayer, and they have a class-leader among them, and 
 they are going to spend some time in humble supplication 
 before the throne of grace. They will remain out there, even 
 if they miss the next service at the stand ; for some of them 
 are expecting to be happily converted before they return. 
 And I suspect this is not the first time they have been out 
 there. Perhaps that class-leader got religion there years ago, 
 and he has a strong faith that some of them will be blessed 
 there this time — for he is full of the Holy Ghost and of 
 power. 
 
 Now let us sit down again, and view the groups still 
 coming. There are some six or seven grave, serious-looking 
 men coming down the hill ; and I hear one or two of them 
 singing in a low voice. The one who walks behind seems to 
 be in deep study. I suspect they are a party of preachers 
 coming down to the famous spring, to drink the water fresh 
 
226 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 and cool — aiul I ruthor lliiiik the one beliind will preach 
 next, which is the reason why he is so wrapped in thoui^ht. 
 I do not think he will return with them, hut go off to pray 
 for the blessing of the Lord, and to read over carefully the 
 sketch he has with him. I hope we will he in time to hear 
 his sermon, for I suspect it has l)ecn well arranged; for re- 
 port says he is very, pious, and much beloved by the church, 
 and that the Lord has blessed him with some fine revivals, 
 and that all are wishing he will be sent back the next 3'ear. 
 The preachers have passed back, but I do not see him ; I 
 suppose he is now looking to the hills, from whence his 
 strength cometh. 
 
 How many different classes of persons have passed ! This 
 is a curious world in which we live, is it not? 
 
 But w^ho are those coming now? There seems to be some- 
 thing w^rong. Hear how loud they talk. And see, they 
 strike together their clenched fists. What can it mean ? I 
 suspect one of two things — they must either belong to that 
 party of rowdies, who came to the stand last night after 
 most of the people had left, and only a few remained with 
 the mourners, and behaved very badly, creating quite a dis- 
 turbance, and doing much to break up the meeting, some of 
 whom the stewards had arrested, and I suppose they are 
 bent on having satisfaction ; or, perhaps they are some of 
 those rough customers who will attend camp-meetings, and 
 who have had a quarrel, and are going to the woods to settle 
 the difficulty by a rough and tumble fight. They have 
 passed the spring, so I suppose the last guess w^as right.. 
 
 See, that young preacher is returning by himself And now 
 there are two young persons coming together. Both seem 
 much excited. I suspect they are two happy lovers, and all 
 is again right between them. Some time back, there was a 
 breach between them ; for you know it has been said, " true 
 love never runs smooth." They had each sent back the other's 
 letters, and other mementoes, and were quite wretched for 
 months. But while going to the stand last night, it was all 
 made up again. And they are quite alone now. to converse 
 together, and perhaps appoint the wedding day, and also to 
 settle who is to have the pleasure of uniting them for life — 
 
227 
 
 whether the young preacher on the circuit, or the old minis- 
 ter who has charge. Is that not a lovely picture, when 'tis 
 finished by saying, that both are in the same church, and 
 enjoy heartfelt religion ? And that was the reason wh}^ the 
 lovers' quarrel was made up so easily. I trust they did not 
 see us as they passed, for they were thinking only of each 
 other. Did you notice what a sweet kiss the happy youth 
 gave his betrothed while at the spring? I do not think 
 they saw us. 
 
 I wonder who that large party of men are, who are 
 coming yonder. They must be conversing on some very 
 interesting topic. One takes out a piece of money, and 
 hands it to another. They have been for some time trying 
 to swap horses, and that mone}^ paid closed the bargain. 
 
 See that other party approaching now — one talking while 
 the others are listening. He is the same young man you 
 saw in the preachers' tent yesterday, who was so very polite. 
 He is a candidate for Congress, and is trying to make those 
 men believe, that unless he is elected, the government will 
 fall to pieces. On their return, he seems as much interested 
 as ever. 
 
 But who are those now going by ? A party of women, 
 with bold, wicked front, and painted faces, and gay dress. 
 Those fallen ones are they of whom the wise man said, •' Let 
 not thy heart incline to her ways. She has cast down many 
 wounded ; her house is in the way to hell, going down to the 
 chambers of death." 
 
 Do, my friends, excuse me for having kept you waitino- so 
 long ; but I wished to show you some of the many sights 
 that were to be seen at that famous camp-ground. 
 
 The horn had sounded, and the time for preaching had 
 come, and the young minister was in the j^ulpit. What im- 
 mense multitudes of immortal souls bound for eternity were 
 before us, who were sailing on the river of life which empties 
 into the ocean of eternity ! As they lived here, so will it be 
 in the world to come ; for " he that soweth to the flesh, shall 
 of the flesh reap corruption ; but he that soweth to the sj^irit, 
 shall of the spirit reap life everlasting." How far, do jou 
 think, those thousands could have been heard, as they sung 
 
228 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 with stroiii:^, clear, iip-country voices? As far as Beatty's 
 Ford, on the Catawba river, which was a few miles off? If 
 the wind was blowiiiu; that Avay, perhaps they might have 
 been heard most of the distance. What strong voices they 
 had! Do you think a preacher with such lungs could ever 
 break down ? The prayer was over, and the young preacher 
 gave out his text — but I have forgotten what it was. He 
 appeared to be deeply in earnest, and to weigh well what he 
 was saying. His words came from the heart, and went to 
 the hearts of his hearers. And how much of hope and truth 
 was in that glance which he occasionally raised to the heaven 
 above. His subject was well arranged ; and as he went on, 
 he became still more deeply interesting. I was sorry to hear 
 the loud crying of that baby far back in the crowd, and was 
 glad when the mother quieted it so soon. And then those 
 dogs barked so loud; how much better had it been, if they 
 had been left at home. But at last every thing became quiet, 
 and nothing was heard but the voice of the preacher — who 
 was telling us of the green fields of Eden. How he wept 
 when he told the sinners of the joys of the better world — 
 where so many of their loved ones had gone, and where they 
 would never go, unless they repented of their sins. His feel- 
 ings became too strong for him, and he sat down. Then 
 some one got up, and at once invited mourners to the altar. 
 They went up, weeping and begging for mercy. And there 
 was a loud shout heard : some good man — whose son had 
 strayed very far from the right path, and seemed bent on 
 destruction, and who was at last convicted, and made to 
 dread the wrath to come — was rejoicing over his return- 
 ing son. 
 
 "But," says one, '' what about H. H. Durant, the great 
 revivalist?" He was moving and directing the form and 
 order of the great battle ; and was overlooking the entire 
 battle-field. He was the great champion of Prince Imman- 
 uel's forces — that is, as to the troops on earth. He was the 
 presiding elder, and controlled every thing — planning the 
 different attacks on the powers of darkness, and his presence 
 alone was a host, whether he spoke or not. 
 
 Saturday night had come, and it would soon be the hour 
 
229 
 
 for service. Brother Diirant and myself had been talking of 
 how many persons we thought could be seated under the 
 arbor, independent of the multitudes who would surround 
 the stand, accommodating themselves as best they could. 
 We made a calculation, and concluded that near six thousand 
 could be seated. We had a great season of grace from the 
 presence of the Lord that night. Did you ever hear Brother 
 D. preach when the Holy Spirit was with him — when he 
 soared high, and took the crowd with him, far above the 
 ''blue throned stars?" Did you ever hear the shout of a 
 great crowd, while he was speaking of the glories of tke bet- 
 ter land — loud enough to be almost heard by the sleeping 
 dead? That was the way he preached at Kock Springs. 
 And it seemed to me that he took such lofty flights, you 
 might almost have heard the harps of the redeemed, as they 
 walked the golden streets of the Jerusalem above. It ap- 
 peared to me, during the meeting, that the battle seemed so 
 evenly balanced — the tide of victory changing from one side 
 to the other, as if each would gain the day — that a stranger 
 looking on could not tell which side would eventually tri- 
 umph, "for each adverse host was gored with equal wounds." 
 But if H. H. Durant would show himself, the Lord being his 
 great help, the victory would be won by the host of Israel. 
 I know I am not the best judge, but I thought Brother D. 
 must have suited the people of Eock Springs as well as they 
 had ever been suited. But he did not preach as often at 
 those meetings as he might have done, in my opinion. He 
 was glad to see all the preachers at work ; and I suspect the 
 prince of hell was more or less alarmed when Brother Durant 
 was present, and in full force — for he could not tell when he 
 would suffer most, whether when his enemy was preaching, 
 exhorting, or praying, for hd* was tremendously powerful at 
 each engagement. 
 
 I have been three times to Eock Springs, and I think Bro- 
 ther Durant was the man for that place, if there was one in 
 the Conference. 
 
 We had a glorious time ; and Brothers Hill, Asbury, and 
 others, came up gallantly to the help of the Lord, and bore 
 themselves bravely in the thickest of the fight, driving the 
 
230 STRAY I.PLVVES. 
 
 powers of darkness from the strona;holfls which they liad 
 Ijokl so lono;. And I rojoieed when I saw those <^o6(i men 
 and (rue passinu; throui^h the crowd, sini!;in<i;. exhortniii;, and 
 j)rayinir, while the sliouts of hapjn' converts climhed the hills 
 of i>;l()ry. 
 
 "While thinking of H. 11. Durant, I am reminded of one of 
 the scenes which took place before the classic walls of Troy. 
 It was doubtful for a long time which party would gain the 
 victory, but it Avas at last decided in favor of Troy by a 
 mighty chieftain, whom Homer calls Sarpedon, and of whom 
 he thm speaks — 
 
 '' Nor Troy could j^onquer, nor would the Greeks yield, 
 Till the great Sarpedon towered amid the field — 
 A chief who led to Troy's beleaguered wall 
 A host of heroes, and outshone them all." 
 
 My friends, did you ever read Sir Walter Scott's '• Ivan- 
 hoe," where he is describing the great passage of arms at 
 Ashby? I hope you have not forgotten that field of honor. 
 Do you remember the knight who was called the Black 
 Sluggard ? Brother Durant might be compared to him, at 
 more than one of the meetings at which I have been with 
 him. Do you remember how that knight stood aloof from 
 the general battle, taking no part in it, until he saw that 
 the time had-!come when his party would be routed without 
 speedy help ; then how he would shout his battle cry, and 
 bear down on the foe with the strength of a falling ava- 
 lanche? So, while the Strength of Israel was with him, 
 have I seen Durant do, on more than one battle-field ; and 
 that was how he did at Rock Springs. Do you remember, 
 again, the fight at the castle, when the friend of the knight 
 was sick and imprisoned ; and when the battle was described 
 to the wounded man, by a spectator, so much to the life, 
 that he said he would give all that his heart loved most 
 upon earth, for the pleasure of fighting for one hour, in such 
 a well-contested field, under such a chief? I regard it as a 
 great honor, which I ought never to forget, that the War 
 Preacher, once in his life, at Rock Springs, did battle for 
 glory and for heaven, while H. H. Durant led the charge. 
 
AN IMMENSE CROWD. 231 
 
 It was Sunday ; and the great hour of the meeting had 
 come, and an immense crowd was present — I presume, from 
 eight to ten thousand persons were in and around the stand. 
 I was requested to go with others around the tents, and try 
 to form some idea of the number of persons who would not 
 come to the stand ; and, after looking about, we concluded 
 that from two to three thous'and were still absent from the 
 stand. But we returned in time to hear the sermon ; and I 
 think it was Brother D. who preached, and that he gave us 
 one of his happiest sermons. It seemed to me, on several 
 occasions, that while he only stood up in the altar or pulpit, 
 and leaned over the book-board,, and shouted aloud, or only 
 sung one of his much-loved songs, the Spirit being with him, 
 that a victory was gained, as if some strong sermon had 
 been preached. Do you remember, friends, when the Tro- 
 gans had set fire to the vessels of the Greeks, and their final 
 ruin seemed as if then come, that Achilles came out unarmed, 
 and standing on the top of the wall, shouted out aloud three 
 times ; and that at the sound of his voice, all Troy fled back 
 aifrighted, and the vessels were saved ? Thus it was with 
 Durant at Eock Springs. It appeared to me, if he only 
 shouted, sung, or prayed, it was a battle fought and won for 
 the hostfi of the Lord. 
 
LEAF THE THIKTY-FOUETH. 
 
 MY FIRST VISIT TO SPARTANBURG, WHERE I HAD TO PREACH 
 MORE THAN THE TWO PROMISED SERMONS. 
 
 While on my second visit to Kock Springs, with Brother 
 Durant, I became so desirous of returning home, that all his 
 efforts failed to persuade me to remain longer. So he agreed 
 to let me off, if I would promise to preach two sermons in 
 Spartanburg, as I passed through. I was sent there by Dr. 
 Miller — a gentleman of much worth and respectability, a 
 member of the church, and a friend of the preachers, and 
 one of the leading men of the old North State. Brother D. 
 gave me a letter of introduction to Brother Moore, in which 
 he told him I was to preach two sermons — the first to be on 
 the night of my arrival. I reached Spartanburg late in the 
 evening, and Avent to Brother M.'s, and delivered my letter ; 
 and requested him to have the bell rung, as I wished to 
 preach my first sermon that night, and I intended to preach 
 my second the next evening, and then leave. He told me, 
 it w^as so late that but few persons would be out ; and urged 
 me to wait until the next evening, when he thought I would 
 have a better turn-out — and I at last consented to do so. 
 
 It was rumoured the next day that I was in town ; and I 
 had an opportunity of looking about, and of becoming ac- 
 quainted with Brother Bobo, and several other friends, who 
 treated me with much respect. I also had the pleasure of 
 seeing sister Wright — a lady of much faith and love, who 
 was one of the old-time Methodists, and was well known and 
 respected by all ; few such are seen among us these days. 
 Brother Mouzon was on the circuit — a man much beloved 
 and esteemed by the church, wherever he has travelled. 
 And he was, perhaps, the most popular preacher that ever 
 Avas sent on the Walterboro circuit, and one of the best in 
 the South Carolina Conference. I was warmly greeted by 
 him and his family, and felt at once quite at home ; and he 
 made me do tu^ most of the preaching. / 
 
A GROWING INTEREST. 233 
 
 At my first appointment there was a good turn-out. There 
 was 'only one more sermon, and then my promise would have 
 been fulfilled, and I could leave for home. But the Holy 
 Spirit had work for me to do that I knew not of, and I found 
 Brother M. to be of much help to me. His advice, his strong 
 faith, and his prayers were a host on the Lord's side against 
 the powers of darkness. On the second night, the presence 
 of the Lord was so manifested, that the friends earnestly re- 
 quested me to remain ; and I thought myself I ought to stay 
 longer, for there was evidently a good work going on. Many 
 of the mourners were much affected, and appeared deeply in 
 earnest. The brethren, too, were becoming more zealous ; 
 and in the congregation there appeared to be more attention 
 than usual; and now and then a shout would be heard in the 
 camp of Israel, and the Spirit of the Lord was abroad in the 
 crowd doing his holy Avork. And thus things passed on for 
 some time. 
 
 One night, as is often the case, I became cast down ; and 
 having been very desirous before leaving Brother D. of re- 
 turning home, I said publicly, that I thought I would leave 
 the next day — but Brother Mouzon and others so entreated 
 me, that I resolved to remain. A lady of position and much 
 intelligence sent me word by a friend to be sure to remain, 
 for there was a much greater impression on the people than 
 r thought, and that I would be doing wrong to leave. She 
 was the same lady who gave me the name of Wandering 
 Arab. So I decided to remain a few days longer ; and Bro- 
 ther M., who is a very pleasant man, and fond of a harmless 
 joke, said the next thing to be dorte was to apprize the 
 friends of my determination to stay, and that I must be 
 paraded on the streets, so that all might see I had not left. 
 And so I had to walk about with him through the business 
 part of the town, as he said, that all might know that the 
 War Preacher was still at his post. I was glad when the 
 marching about was over. And from that time the meeting 
 continued to increase in interest — the whole place was under 
 religious influence, and members from other churches came 
 forward and took part in the services ; and some of the chil- 
 dren of the chief families were among the mourners and eon- 
 15 
 
234 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 verts of the meeting. The congregation generally remained 
 after preaching, singing and praying together. And some of 
 the brethren were very useful in pushing on the work of the 
 Lord, which was widely extending, embracing all classes of 
 the people. By this time I had been to see several families 
 of our-cluireh. and as usual, I tried to be engaged in the ser- 
 vice of my Master — advising and praying with them all the 
 time ; for I think almost as much good is done in that way 
 as by the preaching of the word. Moreover, many persons 
 from the country, who had heard of the meeting, were 
 present with us, thus adding to the pleasures of the occa- 
 sion. But of course, there were some there, as at all such 
 places, who did not seem much pleased with what was going 
 on — only as it served to pass away time, or to spend what is 
 termed an idle hour. And doubtless there were some pre- 
 sent to find fault with and make sport at what they saw. 
 
 One night in particular, there was a great outpouring of 
 the blessed Spirit, and I have seldom seen a more general 
 interest than was then manifested. Some of the members 
 were, perhaps, more influenced than they had ever been be- 
 fore ; and some were at length prostrated by the Holy Ghost, 
 which rested upon them. Brother M. himself, was much 
 more affected than any of us had seen or heard of before. 
 He seemed to be completely transported with holy, happy 
 thoughts, as if he was exalted to the third heaven, far beyond 
 the "blue throned stars;" as if he heard the hallelujahs of 
 heaven ; as if he was hearing the sweet harps of glory. I 
 have been to hundreds of places where the Lord's work was 
 much revived, but to very few where there was more of the 
 demonstration of the Holy Spirit. By this time, there were 
 several bright and happy conversions among those seeking 
 the forgiveness of their sins ; and the voice of rejoicing was 
 heard among the children of the Lord ; and some desperate 
 spirits on the way to destruction, rushing like the horse into 
 battle,' were arrested.in their mad career, and were ready to 
 close in with the offers of salvation. Several said there had 
 not been such a religious feeling in their midst for many 
 years. I rejoiced very much, and praised the Lord for his 
 
WAVING THE FLAG. 235 
 
 gracious displays of power, and for the hope of eternal life 
 when free from the trouble of earth. 
 
 Brother Mouzon surprised me one night, by saying to me, 
 that I had disappointed several persons very much, who had 
 been looking for some manifestation on the part of the War 
 Preacher, which they had been led to expect ; and that he 
 was afraid; if they were not soon gratified there would be a 
 falling off in the interest of the meeting; and he said that 
 was why the crowd remained so late at the last service, and 
 they said that if the display did not take place the next 
 night, they would not come again, as they had so often been 
 dissappointed. I asked him what it was. He said, he had 
 told them that at times I had been known to wave the flag 
 for the friends, which always resulted in a happy eifect, and 
 that he told them he thought I would do it there, and that 
 there was a strong wish in the congregation to see the 
 waving of the War Preacher's banner. He also told me, 
 that his wife and sister took it by turns to stay at home 
 with the children ; and whenever it was his wife's turn to 
 remain with them, she almost cried at the thought of its 
 being done in her absence ; and he requested me to do so the 
 next night. I told him I would, if the Lord would grant us 
 a good meeting. I suppose it is generally understood that I 
 am a very singular person and preacher ; for which reason I 
 am allowed to do what for other persons would be consi- 
 dered quite out of order ; for strange persons are expected to 
 say and do strange things. So the next night, there w^as 
 the largest turn-out that we had yet had ; and one could see 
 that there was something unusual on foot. I had been pray- 
 ing for the divine strength of Israel to be granted to us on 
 that occasion ; and I remember well what a gracious season 
 of rejoicing we had. The stately steps of Prince Immanuel 
 were felt and heard among the golden candlesticks ; and the 
 right hand of the Lord did valiantly in the great crowd pre- 
 sent. The sermon was over, and the excitement was very 
 high ; and I thought that the time had come. So I told 
 them I was sorry to learn that several persons had been 
 much disappointed at not seeing the War Preacher wave his 
 flag for the congregation ] and that I understood, among the 
 
236 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 ladies particularly, there had been a great expectation, and 
 that 1 did not have the heart to keep them longer in sus- 
 pense. I then gave the proper order, and the entire crowd 
 — men, women, and children, saints and sinner — faced the 
 music splendidly. They rose to their feet as if moved by one 
 impulse ; and the banner was waved in the name of the Lord 
 of Hosts. Such a glorious time I have seldom witnessed in 
 all my roving life of more than thirty years from Montgom- 
 ery to Fayetteville. O, my soul ! praise the Lord for that 
 immortal night in Spartanburg. The meeting was kept up 
 till near twelve o'clock ; and I spent nearly a fortnight, em- 
 bracing two Sundays, iii the place. 
 
 So I had to preach more than the two sermons which I 
 had promised Brother Durant ; and he told me afterwards 
 that he expected it to turn out just as it did ; and that from 
 the day I left him, till he heard from me, he prayed much 
 oftener for me than he had ever done in the same length of 
 time before. When I left, the meeting was still going on. 
 It is fifteen years since the time of which I have been 
 telling you ; but I was there again recently, of which visit I 
 expect to tell you in another number. 
 
LEAF THE THIETY-FIFTH. 
 
 HOW THE PROTRACTED. MEETING AT G "WAS BROKEN UP, 
 
 WHEN THE GHOST SHOOK HIS GORY LOCKS. 
 
 Many years ago, I was at a camp-meeting on the Cooper 
 Biver circuit, with Brother C. B., the presiding elder of the 
 District, and Brothers M. and S., and several others. I re- 
 member but very little about .the meeting; but I will say 
 that I was treated with the same kindness and respect by 
 Brother B. that I have always enjoyed ever since I have 
 had the pleasure of knowing him. I have also known Bro- 
 thers M. and S. for many years, and I respect and love them 
 much. When absent from them, if I should be asked which 
 of the two I would rather see, I would say, Brother M. ; but 
 if I was ocoino; to leave them both at the same time, I would 
 rather shake hands with Brother S. last, for I expect I could 
 feel his grasp the longest. If I was sick and in trouble, and 
 both the true friends were present, I would wish Brother M. 
 to pray for me first, and then Brother S. If I wanted a ser- 
 mon to be preached particularly for the church. Brother M. 
 should do it, of course ; but if I desired a great effort to be 
 made to reach the hardened sinner's heart, and if there was 
 a score of preachers present, I would choose Brother S., and 
 request him to preach the same sermon that he did at 
 Centre camp-ground, ^orth Carolina, when I was present. 
 
 Well, friends, we all met at the stand on Monday morning 
 for the last public service. A chapter was read, a hymn 
 sung, a prayer offered, a benediction pronounced, and we 
 were dismissed. Brethren M. and S., and, I think, another, 
 whose name is forgotten, and myself, left together ; and how 
 pleasantly the hours passed by, with those dear brothers in 
 Christ, while I could not tell which I liked best — Brother 
 M.'s hearty laugh, or Brother S.'s grave smile. The houses 
 and trees seemed to fly by us, as we hastened onward to the 
 
 village of G- , where a kind welcome awaited us. I have 
 
 often thought, if I had known what was before me for the 
 
238 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 evening, I never could have enjoyed myself as I did. But so 
 it was — the Strange Preacher, so famous for the wild wan- 
 derings of his fancy, never once thought of what awaited 
 him. I have often thought, what a blessing it is, that we do 
 not know what awaits us in the swiftly coming future ; for if 
 we did, how many of us would drink the cup of sorrow twice, 
 when once is more than we can bear aright, without the 
 help of Heaven. So it was a 'good thing for the Strange 
 Preacher, that he did not know what was in store for him ; 
 or he never could have enjoyed himself so much that even- 
 ing. ]N'ot even M.'s laugh, or S.'s grave smile, could have 
 made him forget the coming trouble. 
 
 But, as I have said, we got to the village at last, and sister 
 S. met me with the same calm smile with which she had 
 
 3'ears before welcomed me with in the village of B , and 
 
 I soon felt at home in her friendly presence. 
 
 After we had rested and refreshed ourselves a little, and 
 when I was anticipating a very pleasant time, a note was 
 presented to Brother M., from a preacher of another deno- 
 mination, who had been for several da5^s carrying on a pro- 
 tracted meeting in the place. The writer said, he understood 
 that there were several Methodist ministers in the village, 
 and he requested one of them to preach for him that night ; 
 that he would take no excuse, for out of so many, he hoped 
 there was one who would grant his request. Brother M. 
 sent word back that one of us would do so. 
 
 Now, you must know, that during the meeting then going 
 on, it had been declared boldly from the pulpit, '* that once 
 a man had been converted — that once he had become a child 
 of the Lord — never mind how great a sin he might commit, 
 he was still in the favor of the Lord, and that if even he 
 should die without repenting of it, he would nevertheless be 
 sure to go to heaven — that he could not be lost." The 
 preacher made mention of David's great sin ; and said he 
 w^as sure of heaven, if he had died without repentance— for 
 having been once a child of the Lord, he could not have been 
 lost. Some one who heard it, told us there was no mis- 
 take about this having been said ; upon which Brothers M. 
 and S. made up their minds that no one present should 
 
PRESSED INTO SERVICE. 239 
 
 preach the requested sermon, happen what might, but the 
 Wandering Arab ; and that he should not even be permitted 
 to choose his own subject. I saw at once what was before 
 me, and determined to escape if possible — to leave no stone 
 unturned to save myself from what I saw staring me full in 
 the face. So I begged very hard for some one else to fill the 
 appointment. I told my two brethren it would do so much 
 better for one of them to preach ; for I had several relatives 
 and friends who were members of that church, and for their 
 sake, if no other, I would rather not do so. But it was all 
 in vain. I took them aside, one at a time, and entreated 
 them, for the sake of the pleasant memories of " auld lang 
 syne," to let me off; but it would not do — -they remained 
 immovable. So 1 said, if I must preach, I thought several 
 other subjects would suit much better—either "Moses to 
 Hobab," or " I would not live alway," or " My feet shall 
 stand within thy gates, O, Jerusalem ! " But they said, no- 
 thing would suit so well as, " Solomon, my son ; " that the 
 ghost must shake his gory locks. I told them I had never 
 been so situated before, and had no heart to face the music ; 
 and that the War Preacher never would return from that 
 field, with his flag waving fearlessly, and his lance held 
 strongly in the rest, as I knew they wished him to do. But 
 they would not yield. They said none but the Strange 
 Preacher should fill the api^ointment, and his subject- should 
 be chosen for him, and that he should reserve his whole 
 strength for the '' casting away for ever." Alas for me ! I 
 could not prevail with my friends. So I said that I had 
 always found sister S. kind to me, and I would go and ask 
 her to save me. I told her of my trouble, and entreated her 
 to help me. I told her, I thought " the passage of the Jor- 
 dan by the children of Israel," much more suitable — that I 
 
 remembered how she enjoyed it that night at B ; and 
 
 that I knew, as Brother S. thought so much of her, he would 
 give up if she asked him. But she said, that in her opinion, 
 there was nothing, from Genesis to Revelation, that would 
 do so well as " Solomon, my son." I felt that I was doomed 
 —-that it was all over with me. But I resolved to make 
 another effort ; so I went back to my brethren, and urged 
 
240 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 and entreated them; but all in vain. I promised to come to 
 any of their meetings, and to stay as long as they wished, 
 and to let them choose all the subjects for me ; but they 
 would not yield. S. no longer smiled gravely, but seemed 
 more firm than ever. He recalled to my mind that scene iti 
 the " Lady of the Lake," where the brave knight, surrounded 
 by his foes, placed his back against a rock, and then, draw- 
 ing his sword, said, " This rock shall fly as soon as I." I 
 was told by both of my friends, that they would never think 
 as much of me as they did before, if I did not preach from 
 "Solomon, my son," and make the ghost shake awfully his 
 gory locks, and reserve my strength for the " casting off for- 
 ever." Before yielding finally to his fate, the Strange 
 Preacher went to sister S. once more ; and the gentle lady 
 would have come to his rescue this time, but M. and S. had 
 been there already before him. He told her, he never felt so 
 little like preaching as he did then ; that the fame, small as 
 it was, that he had won in many a desperate battle, would 
 all be lost that night ; for that he had no heart, no strength, 
 to break a lance in such a field as was before him. She re- 
 plied, that she was very sorry for him, but he must face the 
 fire ; that she would pray for him more than ever ; and that 
 M. and S. had set their hearts upon it, and would remember 
 him before the throne of grace — that the ghost must walk 
 the stage and shake his gory locks. 
 
 And so we started to the place of appointment. The sweet 
 Swan of Avon tells us that " Time travels with different de- 
 grees of speed with different persons ; that he walks with 
 some, and trots with others ; that he ambles with some, and 
 gallops with others ; and that with some he even stands 
 still." But I think he must have moved as fast as " the 
 weaver's shuttle," with the Wandering Arab to the place of 
 trial. If he walked by the side of M. and S., he was told to 
 remember " Solomon, my son ; " and the Strange Preacher 
 wished 4iimself far on the other side of the Savannah river, 
 
 or anywhere else but in the village of G- . And if he 
 
 passed to the side of sister S., he was told not to forget the 
 " casting away forever," and she would not be so hard to 
 move the next time he wished to get off from preaching. 
 
241 
 
 We arrived at the place of worship, which was at a private 
 house. It would have been a small turn-out for a church, 
 but was a very good one for the place. The preacher who 
 wrote the note met us very friendly ; but I suspect, if he 
 had only known what was to come, that invitation would 
 not have been sent. But the other minister, who had made 
 the declaration we had been told of, seemed a little distant ; 
 and I guess, if he had foreseen what was to come, he would 
 have been found missing. I had to stand very near him, 
 and could almost have touched him with my hand. I gave 
 one last glance at my friends — there was no hope left. And 
 feeling like the man who had all the bridges burned behind 
 him, and knowing there was no way of retreat, I resolved at 
 last to go the whole figure, hoping I might never see the 
 
 village of G- again in this unfriendly world, if I had to 
 
 be so unpleasantly situated. 
 
 Song and prayer were over, and the text was read out — it 
 Was, " Solomon, my son." The Strange Preacher then looked 
 at M., and the glance which was returned said plainly, 
 " that's right, face the music ; " and S.'s serious face said 
 plainly, "do not forget the gory locks;" while the expressive 
 countenance of sister S. said, " I am praying for you, but re- 
 member the ' casting off forever.' " Many of you, my friends 
 have often heard me on that subject. But on that occasion 
 I felt very ditferently from what I have done, as often as I 
 have tried to preach from it. Once, for a moment, when ex- 
 cited by what I was speaking about, I almost forgot my sur- 
 roundings. But on I went, drawing still nearer to the much 
 dreaded passage ; and sometimes, during the short pauses I 
 made, I almost made up my mind to take " French leave" of 
 those most dreaded points ; but I knew if I did, my friends 
 would be done with me forever. 
 
 Still I Went on, putting off the great trouble as long as 
 possible; but. at last the much-feared Rubicon rose before 
 me, overflowing both banks. I paused — I felt more than 
 tongue could tell — I turned once more to my friends, to see 
 if there was any pity for me in their eyes. Alas ! there was 
 none. And I at once made up my mind to do or die. I 
 looked to Heaven for help, and unfurled my broad banner to 
 
242 STRAY I.EAVES. 
 
 the breeze ; and I felt like saying, *' Onee more, my friends, 
 to the breach, once more." I drew my BamascuH bhide, and 
 threw away the scabbard ; I spurred my gallant charger on, 
 and swam the Rubicon which was overflowing both banks. 
 And whvjn I stood once more upon the tii"n\ earth, I said to 
 myself, " Farewell world ! for with the help of the Lord, I 
 will go the whole figure once in my life, if never before. I 
 will raise the ghost, and he shall shake his gory locks ; and 
 I will spread myself on the ' casting away forever,' so that 
 all this congregation, both saints and sinners, will remember 
 
 the Strange Preacher in the village of G- to their last 
 
 hour." And I paused a moment, to gather all my strength 
 for what was to come, 
 
 I painted the king of Israel on his death bod, with the 
 great men of his kingdom around him, and as, perhaps, he 
 thus slowly and seriously expressed himself: "My dear son, 
 you will soon fill my throne ; remember what I now say to 
 you. That sad day of which I am going to speak, was be- 
 fore you were born, my son. I loved the Lord, I was fully 
 bound for heaven ; for I was a man after the Lord's own 
 heart. One day, in early morn, I offered prayer to the Holy 
 One of Israel, with as much faith and earnestness as ever ; 
 and if I had died then, I would have gone safe home to 
 glory. But before the sun had gone down, I had sinned — I 
 was guilty of a great crime, and deserved death by the law. 
 If I had died that night, without repentance, I would have 
 gone to hell. O ! my son, what a fall was that ! But that 
 was not all. I sinned still more, in the sight of earth and 
 heaven. I caused the death of a brave man — the noble 
 Uriah. If it had not been for me, my son, that man might 
 have been now standing with those heroes who are present, 
 and w^hose names will never die. If I had died then, my 
 son, without repentance, if there is a hell for the wicked, I 
 would have found it. O ! Solomon, never forget wiiat I now 
 tell you. If you forsake the Lord, and do not return to him, 
 he will cast you off for ever. Those persons who have never 
 professed to love the Lord, cannot forsake him ; for they 
 have never belonged to him. When I had thus so greatly 
 sinned, if I had then died without repentance, I would have 
 
DAVID TO SOLOMON. 243 
 
 been eternally lost, and I never would have reached the 
 blessed Canaan above — where the pious Jews of all ages 
 have gone — where the sainted Samuel and my much-loved 
 Jonathan are now happy for ever. One day, the prophet 
 Nathan came to me with a message from the Lord ; he told 
 me there was a poor man, who had only one lamb, that lay 
 in his bosom, and ate at his table, and was to him as a child ; 
 and that there was a rich man, who had large flocks ; * and a 
 traveller stopped all night with him, and he took the only 
 lamb from the poor man, and dressed it up for the wayfaring 
 man. And I at once said, he should die. IS'athan said, I 
 was the man, and charged me with this great sin. An awful 
 conviction at once possessed my soul ; and when the mox'ning 
 came, I expected to be in hell before night; and when the 
 night came, I was afraid to go to sleep, lest I should awake 
 in the pit. And I felt sometimes almost tempted to take my 
 own life ; but I knew if I did, I would only the sooner be 
 cast ofl' forever. And then, when worn out with watching 
 I dropped to sleep, it was to dream of the noble Uriah, and 
 cruel murder. And often, when I was awake in the still 
 . hour of midnight, the ghost of Uriah would stand before me 
 in his bloody robe, with his death^wound in his breast, and 
 his dark hair all clotted with blood, and he would shake his 
 gory locks at me, and say, ' You murdered me, and you will, 
 without repentance, burn forever in hell.' And feeKng more 
 than tongue can ever tell, I would at times reply to the spirit, 
 as he stalked to and fro, with his noiseless steps, before my 
 couch—' How can you say I did it ? You fell in battle, by 
 the hands of the children of Ammon ! ' But he said, ' You 
 told Joab to place me there, and when the fight began, to 
 leave me alone. I will shake my gory locks at you, for you 
 did it ; and without repentance, you will burn in hell for^ 
 ever.' The spirit would at times come very close to me— 
 within arm's length,'and say, 'You remember the time when 
 you sent to our camp, to our Captain Joab, to send me to 
 you; and you gave me to eat from your own table; and 
 when the next morning, you found out I had not o-one to 
 my house, you asked me why I did not go ? ' And then, my 
 son, the ghost seemed to come so near, that his bloody robe 
 
244 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 almost touched me. And he asked me if I had forgotten his 
 repl}' — that he knew I never would for<^et it. And the spirit 
 said, ' I told you that the host of the Lord, and my lord 
 .Toab were in the open field ; and you sent me back to the 
 camp with my death-warrant in my pocket. I was told 
 where to stand. The enemy rushed out, and I was left 
 alone. I will shake my gory locks at you, for you caused 
 my death ; and without repentance, you will burn in hell for- 
 ever.' " 
 
 Much more was said ; but I must hasten to the close. The 
 ghost played well his part : he walked the stage, shaking 
 awfully his gory locks. The preacher did his best on the 
 " casting away forever." And before he sat down, he spoke 
 as he always does while preaching from that text : he dwelt 
 upon King David's repentance, and his restoration to the 
 favor of the Lord ; and that perhaps he said to Solomon, 
 with a smile of heaven upon his dying face, " My son, when- 
 ever you read that Psalm which has these words in it — 'As 
 far as the east is from the west, so far has the Lord removed 
 my sins and my transgressions from me,' remember that I 
 then had repented, and the Lord had forgiven my sins, and 
 restored me to his favor once more." And the king of Israel 
 was represented as taking his departure from earth, escorted 
 by holy angels, to Abraham's bosom. 
 
 The parson, before sitting down, turned once more, and 
 looked at his friends. The expressive glance which M. and 
 S. gave him, seemed to say, " Your banner hung on the 
 outer wall to-night ; and we will let you choose your own 
 subject the next time." He then turned to sister S. The 
 same smile was on her face that he had seen there years be- 
 fore, at Bennettsville, when herself and husband, by their 
 very kind greeting, made him so soon forget his long, weary 
 ride from Fayetteville. The last hymn was sung, and the 
 last prayer offered to the throne of grace ; the benediction 
 
 was pronounced, and the protracted meeting at G was 
 
 closed. 
 
LEAF THE THIETY-SIXTH. 
 
 TW© VISITS TO GEORGETOWN BY THE STRANGE PREACHER. 
 
 Some fifteen years ago, I went on my first visit to Geoi'ge- 
 town, to attend our Conference, with my dear friend, Bro- 
 ther L. B. Yarn, who was ordained there. It was my first 
 trip on a steamboat, and for a while I enjoyed it very much. 
 The ocean scenery was novel and interesting to me, until I 
 became sea-sick, w^hen all pleasant feelings at once left me, 
 and I was cast down and discouraged, and wished myself at 
 home. 
 
 I had read so much of Georgetown during the days of 
 Marion and Horry, that I had often wished to see the time- 
 honored place. When we got there, we were met by a 
 crowd on the wharf, among them many of the preachers ; 
 and I was introduced to a number of persons. My sea-sick- 
 ness had not entirely left me. Brother Yarn and myself had 
 our places allotted to us, where we were pleasantly situated, 
 and treated kindly ; but it was rather far to walk to Con- 
 ference. The next morning we were in the assembly of 
 preachers. There were over a hundred present, and Bishop 
 Andrew presided. He was the right man in the right place. 
 I saw many familiar faces — some of whom smiled at me, 
 some nodded, and others came over and shook hands. The 
 Conference at times seemed to be attending very closely to 
 the business before it ; and at times something rather serious 
 would be brought up, and then all but the members were 
 excluded — which was rather unpleasant to me at first, but 
 after a while I became accustomed to it. I saw several of 
 the chief men of the Conference — men who had made their 
 mark in the world, and whose names were known to fame. 
 I saw some venerable men, whom the church loved much, 
 and whom the world respected. They were known and read 
 of all men, and their record was on high. I noticed some 
 one speaking to the presiding elder of the District, Brother 
 \y., who rose up and said, he understood that Brother B., of 
 
246 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 the AValtcrboro circuit, was in the room, and he hoped he 
 would preach in such a brother's place, who would not bo 
 able to till his appointment. But I had not yet gotten over 
 my sea-sickness, and was in the act of rising to ask to be 
 excused, when Bishop Andrew remarked, that he understood 
 Brother B. was always reacly ; and I felt that there was no 
 escape for me. I was in a bad state for preaching ; but I 
 took something to relieve me, and tried to do as well as I 
 could ; and trust there was some good done. Brother Yarn 
 concluded the services for me. I think I learned something 
 in that Conference, for those preachers dealt very plainly 
 with each other ; and if a brother needed reproof, he got it 
 well put on, you may depend on it. I witnessed all the ser- 
 vices of the holy Sabbath ; and I hope the Lord owned and 
 blessed that Conference Sunday in Greorgetown. Bishop 
 Andrew gave us a very strong, forcible, and impressive ser- 
 mon, which was after the fashion of sermons to which I love 
 to listen. The ordination service was quite solemn to me, 
 and I trust was so to all present. 
 
 The last night came, and we were in the church to hear 
 the appointments read — which I enjoyed very much. The 
 house was crowded, every place seemed filled ; but the crowd 
 was quiet ; and the venerable Bishop rose, and gave his last 
 advice to that body of ministers before reading out the ap- 
 pointments. There was a short pause before the names were 
 called out. Let us look around a little. What a picture ! 
 How eager, how wistful some of those preachers looked ! 
 Several of them were on very pleasant circuits the past year, 
 and were hoping to be sent back to the same place. Perhaps 
 the last thing some wife said to her husband before he left 
 was, " Tell the Bishop, I say, ' please send you back, and I 
 will pray for him more than ever.' " There was another 
 one who expected to be sent back; and how sorry he would 
 feel if he knew that his presiding elder had been told by the 
 stewards, that they did not wish that brother to be sent 
 back; so he was not returned. There was another preacher 
 who had been two years on the same circuit, in the up- 
 country, and he was wishing to be sent to another one near 
 by ; and I suspect he was quite surprised when he found he 
 
READING OUT THE APPOINTMENTS. 247 
 
 would have to go to the sea-shore. And there was a pre- 
 siding elder, Avho had been two years at work on one dis- 
 trict, and was well pleased ; but the general Avish was that 
 he might be changed; snd I guess he was somewhat sur- 
 prised when he heard that he was to go to some rough cir- 
 cuit in the up-country. Several ladies were present, with 
 their husbands, fathers, and brothers, who were also inter- 
 ested in the reading of the appointments. You could see 
 some of the preachers change countenance : their faces were 
 first pale, atd then flushed; and then there were others who 
 seemed perfectly indifferent. They had become accustomed 
 to change, and did not mmd it much. But some were feeling 
 more than they were willing to confess, and that indifference 
 was only assumed. Did you notice that brother Avho was 
 looking so earnestly at the Bishop ? He had an interview 
 with him the day before, praying to be returned to the same 
 circuit. He, however, dropped his head after a while, and I 
 saw him wiping his eyes ; for he saw in the speaking glance 
 of the venerable man that his request could not be granted. 
 Were you not sorry for him ? The Strange Preacher was. 
 
 This is always the most interesting part of the Conference 
 to me. The appointments were read out slowly and dis- 
 tinctly, beginning with Charleston ; and as they were read 
 out, several persons were busily employed in recording 
 them. Did you notice those pieces of paper which were 
 passed about so quickly ? Those were the '- plans" of the 
 different circuits ; but you could see more than one man 
 holding on to the plan he had before. These were sent back 
 to the same work. And did you notice how reluctantly one 
 •man gave up his paper? His whole heart was fixed on 
 going back to the same place, but how sadly did he return 
 home ; for he dreaded to break the news to the mother of 
 his little boy ; and he imagined he could already see the 
 tears in her eyes, when she was told they had to move, and 
 go to a place where the preacher, after working last year 
 very hard, got a poor support — hardly enough to keep soul 
 and body together. And I would not be surprised if he took 
 more than a day longer to get home, than he did to come 
 down to Conference ; and I suspect, when he got nearly 
 
248 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 home, that he called on the Lord for strength and grace to 
 take up the cross like a Christian hero. If I had been in his 
 place, I think I would have stopped at that good class-lead- 
 er's house, who lived, near the village, and have begged him 
 to break the news to my wife, while I was putting up my 
 horse, and providing for him after his long drive. 
 
 The Strange Preacher felt the tears falling fast from his 
 eyes, as he bowed his head, and said to himself, "that is one 
 reason why I like my roving life the best ; for I can go 
 where I please." Did you notice that young m%ister, with 
 a very expressive face, and black eyes, and hair as dark as 
 the raven's wing — how he suddenly drew back, and hid him- 
 self behind some one who was standing near him ? He had 
 been for some time engaged to the lady of his heart ; but the 
 understanding between him and her parents was, that if he 
 was sent back to the same work, they might be married soon 
 after his return ; but if he had to go to a distant part of the 
 Conference field, he would have to wait another year. And 
 he was sent to a distant part of the State. Were you not 
 sorry for him? And did you not notice how the good 
 Bishop's voice trembled, when he read out that appoint- 
 ment ? He was well acquainted with those young people, 
 and sympathized with them. 
 
 And did you hear that audible sigh which came from those 
 ladies who were sitting near the pulpit ? It came from the 
 troubled heart of an aged mother — a widow, whose only 
 child, a young minister of much promise, but feeble health, 
 was sent to a sickly part of the Conference. He was her 
 only support this side of heaven ; and she feared he would 
 be in his grave before the end of the year. I hope more 
 than one prayed to God to spare that mother's only stay on 
 earth. 
 
 The appointments had all been read, and the benediction 
 pronounced, and Conference closed; and I returned safely 
 home. 
 
 A few months afterwards, at the request of Brother James 
 Stacy, I returned to Georgetown. I took the train at Bam- 
 berg, and soon reached Charleston, where I took the boat, 
 and by the mercy of the Lord, arrived safely at the place, 
 
THE DEAF GENTLEMAN. . 249 
 
 where Brother S. met me with a kindly greeting, and we 
 began the meeting. We toiled on, praying and looking for 
 the salvation of Israel; we pleaded the promises of the holy 
 Book ; and implored the Lord to visit his earthly Zion in 
 that town. We preached and labored on, trying " to look to 
 the hills from whence cometh our help." 
 
 I spent many happy, heaven-blessed hours with Brother 
 S., Dr. W., and other dear friends in that place. I saw much 
 more of Dr. W. during my second visit than I did at my 
 first, and I was quite pleased with him — -he was so courteous 
 and kind, and a Christian man in every respect, and his 
 family too, was very interesting. I wish the whole world 
 w^as filled with such families ; for then the Saviour's reign 
 would be universal. But our much respected brother has 
 been for years past at rest in the green fields of Eden — 
 " where friends shall meet again who have loved." 
 
 The meeting grew more interesting ; the Lord was on the 
 giving hand, and the church was rousing herself up. Zion 
 was dressed in her beautiful garments. We had good con- 
 gregations ; and serious impressions were made on the hearts 
 of several present. The preached word had not been in 
 vain ; for the Lord's will was accomplished, and his work 
 revived. 
 
 I must now tell you of something which occurred during 
 the meeting, which was not very pleasant to the Strange 
 Preacher ; and between ourselves, I think that is the reason 
 why I have been so pressed |not to leave Georgetown out, 
 while writing these " Stray Leaves." 
 
 One memorable night of the meeting, some of the sisters 
 were singing a song, which the Strange Preacher enjoyed 
 very much, and he requested that it might be sung over again. 
 He was much strengthened ; his hopes were high, and his 
 banner was on the outer wall. The Holy Spirit blessed the 
 word, and a good impression seemed to prevail. Some of 
 the members were very happy, and the mourners were seek- 
 ing the salvation of their souls. Some one began one of the 
 parson's much-loved songs, and he was mounted on his gal- 
 lant steed, with his flag waving bravely. He passed through 
 the throng, and cried out, " Farewell world ! " He passed 
 16 
 
250 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Oil, exulting that the Lord waS in his holy temple, and the 
 flag of Calvary waving over the hosts of Israel. The Strange 
 Preacher felt more and still more the excitement of the hour. 
 He saw a gentleman Avith his head bent slightly forward, 
 who looked as if seriously impressed. He went up to him, 
 and said he hoped he was enjoying the meeting. The man 
 was hard of hearing, and held his hand to his ear. The 
 preacher spoke a little louder, but still without being under- 
 stood ; and the Wandering Arab wished he had passed on, 
 without saying any thing to him. But with a still greater 
 effort, he said, ^'Friend, do you wish to get to heaven?" 
 *' Yes," said the stranger, " but not in the steamboat fashion 
 you Methodists have of getting there." O! my soul, how 
 the tide of feeling suddenly turned the other way. The par- 
 son copied down very suddenly, wishing himself on the other 
 side of the Alabama river, or anywhere else in this trouble- 
 some world, at that moment. 
 
 But on the whole, the meeting was a good one. I remem- 
 ber one day particularly, I told my dream of meeting my 
 mother in heaven, which, with the blessing of God, made a 
 serious impression on the congregation. It was to me the 
 happiest hour of the meeting ; for the " voice of rejoicing 
 was heard in the tabernacle of the Most High." Brother 
 Stacy Avas so much pleased with it, that he had it written 
 down and published in the Advocate the second time. 
 
LEAF THE THIRTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 ENGLISH chapel; OR. THE WANDERING ARAB, TAKING THE 
 WATER WITH FEAR AND TREMBLING, COMES OUT BETTER 
 THAN HE EXPECTED, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF PULLING 
 HIS BOOTS OFF. 
 
 English Chapel was one of those wayside churches of the 
 olden time, like Shiloh of sanctified remembrance. It stood 
 not far from the public road ; plain, modest, and unassuming 
 in its appearance, as if it wished to shun observation, and 
 preferred a small band of faithful w^orshij^pers to a large 
 congregation. And it really seemed to me, that a small 
 turn-out suited it better than any place I ever saw — I mean 
 a handful of whites ; for the negroes turned out in crowds. 
 And I have seldom heard better old-time Methodist singing 
 than we had there. But the much-loved old church has 
 gone the way of all the living. It was burned down several 
 years ago, and its glory has departed ; but it still lives en- 
 shrined in the hearts of many who worshipped there in by- 
 gone days. I have not forgotten the modest, humble, little 
 sanctuary, with the friendly trees which encircled it so 
 lovingly; for I have often enjoyed myself much there with 
 the kind friends of the neighborhood. But what a sad 
 change has cruel war, with its train of woes, brought upon 
 that portion of our Lord's vineyard ! O ! the times, how 
 mournfully have they changed, since first I raised my voice 
 in the sacred place, calling sinners to rej^entance. 
 
 Before I say any more about the meetings at the chapel, 
 let me tell you of its remarkable class-leader. I have seen 
 and heard of a great many class-leaders, but I have never 
 met, or heard of such another one as the leader of that little 
 church. Since I began these " Stray Leaves," while I have 
 been writing of many persons and things, I have scarcely 
 yet felt my utter inability to do justice to my theme, so 
 much as now, when I undertake to describe the leader at 
 English Chapel. I have never yet seen just such a man, 
 
252 STllAY LEAVES. 
 
 and I never expect to. I know I am perhaps the most sin- 
 gular person that the reader has ever seen or heard of. One 
 of our Bishops told me once, that since the days of his early- 
 youth, he had never seen but one preacher who reminded 
 him of me. But the leader of the English Chapel is alone in 
 his glory. He was a man fond of a good joke, never mind at 
 whose expense ; and he seemed to prefer having an amusing 
 story to tell of a preacher, or a pious member of the church, 
 than of any one else ; and he enjoyed a good laugh better than 
 almost any one I ever saw. He also enjoyed a joke on the 
 "Wandering Arab very much — it was quite a treat to him. 
 But he was also a warm friend of the preachers, when they 
 needed help, and was very generous in supporting the min- 
 istry. His house and his heart were always open to them ; 
 and he enjoyed a good meeting very much. He never neg- 
 lected his private or family duties ; and few persons listened 
 with more pleasure to a good sermon. He lived in a splen- 
 did mansion, in fine style, with every comfort around him — 
 was fond of hunting — kept fine horses and hounds, and was 
 a capital shot. Such is a very imperfect picture of the leader 
 at this chapel — a man of a kind heart, and a free purse. I 
 always respected him much, and regarded him as a true 
 friend — though often dreading him, he was so fond of a joke. 
 Long live the leader of English Chapel! I have attended 
 several good meetings there, at all of which my much-res- 
 pected brother took an active part. The Rev. L. B. Yarn 
 was with me several times, laboring as he always does, very 
 faithfully. 
 
 We had a very interesting time there many years ago. 
 There was a gracious season of rejoicing from the Holy One 
 of Israel ; and several hardened sinners closed in with the 
 offers of mercy. Some, who were so far gone in the ways of 
 transgression that they seldom attended preaching, were so 
 powerfully wrought upon one night, that they had to leave 
 the house, being afraid to remain longer. And there was a 
 man, whose w4fe w^as a member of our church, who was very 
 wicked, and much opposed to the Methodists. His wife Avas 
 afraid for the preachers to come to their house. But at last, 
 
A FULL CONFESSION. 253 
 
 he was powerfully awakened ; and was converted, and be- 
 came a zealous member of the church. 
 
 "But," says one, " how about the AYandering Arab taking 
 the water?" I will tell you. You know, whenever persons 
 join our church, they are baptized in whatever manner they 
 prefer — either by immersion, pouring, or sprinkling. But I 
 was preaching many years before I was requested to baptize 
 by immersion. I always knew I was awkward and absent- 
 minded, and I was afraid I would make some great mistake, 
 and thereby cause much sport to the sinners who are at such 
 places ; so that, to tell you the truth, I always dreaded to 
 undertake to baptize persons in that manner, and felt grate- 
 ful that I had never been requested to do so. Besides, I was 
 afraid that I might make a false step, either in going into or 
 coming out of the water, and fall down ; or perhaps I might 
 keep the subjects uiider too long. So I hope my friends will 
 excuse me for making a full confession, and saying that I 
 dreaded very much when I should have to face that fire. I 
 felt like thanking my stars that I had so long escaped this 
 trouble ; but it came at last very unexpectedly. I had al- 
 ways thought I would have a long notice beforehand, and 
 thereby have an opportunity for preparation. I had been 
 indirectly spoken to on the subject; but had always per- 
 suaded applicants that some other preacher v^^-ould be more 
 suitable for performing the solemn service. I may judge my 
 good friend, the famous leader of the chapel, wrongfully, but 
 I suspected him of having an agency in bringing this great 
 trouble upon me, as he was well acquainted with my views on 
 the matter, and I think he moved the wires on this occasion. 
 
 Brother Yarn and myself had a two days' meeting at the 
 chapel. I had been praying for and expecting a gracious 
 season. I had, some time before, taken in several persons at 
 that place, and was hoping that, others would unite with us 
 on this occasion, and that the old members would become 
 strengthened, and take a fresh start for the better world. 
 
 I got there safely. Were you ever, friends, on some plea- 
 sant day, when all was bright above and around you, sur- 
 prised by a storm suddenly coming u2:>on you, for which you 
 had made no preparation? So it was with the Strange 
 
254 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 Preacher on that meinoral)lo da}'. Ahnost the first person 
 to meet him was our <s,()od brother the leader, wlio tokl him, 
 "without prefaee, that there were several persons to be bap- 
 tized, who Avished to be immersed, and preferred him to any 
 other preacher. The ceremony was to take place on the fol- 
 lowing day, a little while before the public service began. 
 Do please feel sorry for me, my friends. I at once began 
 Avith my excuses — first one and then another ; but nothing 
 Avould do — and he evidently enjoyed my confusion. The 
 friends had fixed on me, he said, and would take no denial, 
 and there Avould be a great disappointment if I refused — I 
 must not think of such a thing. I told him, I wished ho 
 had sent me Avord, so that I might have had some time to 
 think about it, and have come prepared ; that it would have 
 to be put off. But he said, it must be done by me the next day. 
 But I had no change of clothes Avith me. He had arranged 
 that, too ; and I was to go to a house near, Avhere I Avould 
 find every thing ready for me. But, the parson said, the 
 creek Avas some distance off, and it Avould not suit so Avell. 
 My friend had obviated that difficulty also — a spring branch 
 near by had been dammed up, and Avould be ready by morn- 
 ing, and he carried the Strange Preacher to look at it. I 
 told him I did not think it Avould be deep enough by morn- 
 ing. '-Ol^'said he, "you and Brother Yarn can pray for 
 the rain ; and though there is no sign noAv, I Avould not be 
 surprised if there is plenty by morning." I Avas in for it ; 
 and so the service Avas appointed accordingly. 1 confess 
 freely, that I doubt if five minutes elapsed, except while I 
 Avas asleep, in Avhich I did not think of and dread the coming 
 trouble. I cannot tell Avhether the meeting Avas good or in- 
 different — Avhether the preachers SAVung clear or got in the 
 brush — I knoAv nothing about it, for my mind Avas taken up 
 Avith other thoughts. The class-leader looked all the time 
 as if he Avere enjoying my confusion vastly. I had been in 
 that neighborhood often, and always found the brethren 
 kind and respectful; but on this occasion, I admit that I 
 spent a very unpleasant time, until the great trial was over. 
 Some of my friends, the class-leader in particular, drilled 
 me again and again — shoAvdng me how to stand, and place 
 
THE TIME OF TRIAL. 255 
 
 my hands. I remember he said, with a smile, " Brother B., 
 if you are still uneasy, I will go with you to the creek, and 
 you can practice with me to your heart's content — an hour 
 if you want to." Do not laugh at me too much, when I ac- 
 knowledge, that had I known what was a-head of me, I 
 would not have had the meeting at that time. I could 
 scarcely for a moment think of anything else ; even while in 
 conversation my thoughts Avere on that all-important sub- 
 ject. We spent the evening at a good sister's house, which 
 was truly a home for the preachers. I had spent many plea- 
 sant hours there in other days ; but on that never-to-be-for- 
 gotten evening, the first and only subject with me was the 
 confusion and embarrassment of the coming baptism. My 
 true friend, Brother Y., was a great helj) to me. I have 
 often felt glad to have him with me, but perhaps never more 
 so than on that occasion. I am truly sorry to say that I 
 was so confused, but so it was ; and in writing these 
 "Leaves," I wish to give you a correct picture of myself, 
 as well as of others. Brother Y. thought with me, that 
 unless we had rain, the pool would not be deep enough ; 
 and so we did not forget to pray for it, as we had been 
 advised. There was a great fall of Avater that night ; but I 
 suspect, if the truth must be told, the Strange Preacher 
 would have been very willing for the rain to prevent the 
 people from going to church next day. The clothes I wag 
 to use were given to me ; I tried them on ; they answered 
 very well, so I could not make that an excuse for declining. 
 Every hour brought me nearer the dreaded Eubicon, soon 
 to be crossed ; and I suspect the good friends noticed my 
 absent manner. 
 
 The holy Sabbath had come, and the rain had stopped. 
 The blessed day had calmed my mind somewhat, but still 
 there was much anxious thought lurking within. And the 
 Strange Preacher thought he would be sure to make some 
 blunder, when some would laugh aloud, while others felt for 
 him. When we arrived at the church, we found several per- 
 sons there — among them the fun-loving class-leader, with 
 a suppressed smile on his face. Even his gentle, heavenly- 
 minded wife, had a marked expression on her countenance, 
 
25(5 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 which seemed to say, *' Brother B., I am sorry for you ; I 
 wish you understood it as well as our preachers do — there 
 weuld be no mistake then." We went to look at the water ; 
 all said it was deep enough. The crowd increased ; there 
 were only a few moments left, and 1 kncw^there was no way 
 of escape. We were at last prepared for immersing the sub- 
 jects — some fifteen in number, among them several young 
 ladies. We had to descend a little hill, which had been 
 made slippery by the recent showers ; and some one whis- 
 pered to me, to be very careful in going down the hill, lest 
 I should foil. I had been thinking of it myself The leader, 
 who was the master of the ceremonies, came up to me, and 
 said every thing was ready, and I had better not wait 
 longer. He told me to begin with the young ladies, and 
 take one on each arm down into the water; and charged me 
 to be cautious how I walked, for, said he, '' you know, Bro- 
 ther B., it would be dreadful to fall with a lady on each 
 arm." I said nothing, but thought to myself, if that does 
 happen, the Wandering Arab will never have another ap- 
 pointment at English Chapel. 
 
 The service begun by the singing of an appropriate hymn, 
 the class-leader doing his full part. The usual questions 
 were asked and answered, and prayer was offered. During 
 all this time, I thought it best not to look around, lest I 
 should see a smile or something that might confuse me. The 
 procession began ; we marched down the slippery hill — the 
 Wandering Arab, with a young lady holding on to each arm, 
 walking very carefully, dreading a fall, with the words still 
 ringing in his ear, "Brother B., that will be awful, with a 
 lady on each arm." But, through the mercy of God, I 
 reached the water with my fair charge safely, and silently 
 asked help from on high. I had heard persons say, that 
 they did not think the subjects were alwa^'s sunk deep 
 enough ; and I said to myself, " I will try to make all sure ; 
 there shall be no mistake this time." I began with the two 
 young ladies who came down with me, and performed the 
 service as solemnly as I could, bearing the subjects as deep 
 under the water as possible. I was by this time well 
 drenched; but I continued to baptize the others, assisting 
 
BOTHER WITH THE BOOTS. 257 
 
 them to and from the temporary pool, dreading each time a 
 slip and a fall, and with my mind firmly made up, that if 
 that happened, I would be seen no more at the chapel. One 
 by one they were baptized, and then the procession marched 
 up the hill — the preacher, with a lady on each arm, walking 
 very carefully, with his clothes very wet, and his boots 
 clasping his feet very closely. I suspect, if the great enemy 
 of mankind ever wished to trip up the feet of the Wandering 
 Arab, literally, he wanted to do so at that famous immersion 
 scene at the chapel. But, through help from the Lord, I 
 marched down and up the hill safely, which cannot be said 
 of all the heroes of this world. When the service was over, 
 I was congratulated by some friends on the performance ; 
 and the general impression was, that the subjects had been 
 buried fully deep enough. 
 
 It was now almost time for preaching to begin ; and I re- 
 tired to the woods to change my garments, and the fun- 
 loving, but still good and true brother, offered to assist me. 
 I expressed myself as thankful at having got through safely 
 and my friend observed, that he trembled for me as I walked 
 down the hill, adding, '' for you know. Brother B., it would 
 have been dreadful, had you fallen with a lady on each 
 arm." "Yes;'* I said, "and if it had happened, it would 
 have been my last visit to this place." " But," he replied, 
 " you got through very well ; and there is no mistake as to 
 your burying them deep enough." But the Wandering Arab 
 seemed to be bothered in pulling off his boots ; and I do not 
 know if he could have got through in time, if his friend had 
 not helped him. So he sat on the ground, and the class- 
 leader pulled away as for life, dragging him about for some 
 time, all in vain. Was he not in a fix? At last, the parson 
 took hold of two little trees to steady himself; and once 
 more the class-leader pulled for dear life. The boots were 
 off at last, and the parson was fixed up in time for the meet- 
 ing. On his way to the church, some one who should have 
 been there before, came up to him to be baptized ; but the 
 Wandering Arab requested to be excused that time. 
 
LEAF THE TIIIETY-EIGIITII. 
 
 THE PROTRACTED MEETING AT D CLOSED AND RENEWED 
 
 AGAIN ; OR, THE BEST OF THE WINE AT THE LAST OF THE 
 FEAST. 
 
 Yery many years ago, when our land could have been 
 truly called the "Sunny South," I started on the cars for the 
 
 town of D , but missed the connection at Florence, whence 
 
 I had to go on in a small hand car. I found a kind welcome 
 at the house of a brother, whose wife was the daughter of a 
 much-loved friend of mine— the Eev. H. S., and I soon felt 
 at home. Now", brother preacher, if you have ever been in 
 
 D , I suspect you have been in few places where you 
 
 found the friends so kind, and the congregations upon the 
 whole so w^ell-behaved and attentive. O, how" can I ever 
 forget my first visit to the place. Dr. S. — w-hole-souled, 
 noble-hearted Dr. S. — one of the princes of our Israel, how 
 glad I am that I knew and loved thee, before thou wast 
 called to the Jerusalem above ! 1 met him first at the famous 
 Gully camp-meeting, and had heard much of him even before 
 that. But as much as fame had said in his favor, I found 
 she had not done justice to him ; and I think I would have 
 borne the sorrows and trials of life better than I have done, 
 if I could have had the pleasure of meeting him oftener — for 
 I have known but few persons Avhose presence encouraged 
 me more than that of Dr. S. 
 
 I also became acquainted with those tw^o w^hole-souled 
 men and true Christians — having the blessed God for their 
 Father, our Saviour for their elder Brother, and the holy 
 angels for their kindred — those preachers of the cross — 
 knights of Zion — Brothers H. and B. I think 1 met them 
 there for the first time ; and there was something very cap- 
 tivating about them, which made you feel that they had 
 been with Jesus, and were loved of him. I have since then 
 often met Brother H., and the more I saw" of him the better 
 1 loved him. I am sorry I have never seen Brother B. since, 
 
THE CONVICTED BACKSLIDER. 259 
 
 • 
 for I know he would have won still more of my good opin- 
 ion ; but I hope to see more of him in heaven than I have 
 upon earth. One was a Methodist, and the other a Baptist, 
 preacher; and both the church and the world would be much 
 better off than they are, if there were more of such men 
 among us. 
 
 I remember well how Brothers G. and M. met me ; and I 
 was much strengthened in their friendly presence. 
 
 I uever can forget my first text. It was our Saviour's 
 question to the apostles — " Will ye also go away?" A ser- 
 ious, attentive congregation w^as present ; and I think there 
 was more than one person praying for me in that crowd. 
 Minister of the Gospel, hast thou not often been convinced 
 whilst attempting to preach, that there were present those 
 who were remembering thee before the throne of grace? It 
 w^as so with me that day. I have often preached from those 
 words ; but perhaps was never so aided by the Holy Spirit ; 
 and I had faith to believe that the Lord Avould bless my poor 
 labors among the people of D . 
 
 There was a gentleman present, who had once loved the 
 Lord, and who had once fought the good fight of faith, and 
 endured hardaess like a good soldier; but, alas! he had 
 fallen from his high estate, and gone back to the world. He 
 invited me home with him, and showed me much respect. 
 He told me of his sad condition ; and said, that after leaving 
 the church that day, he fancied he still heard the words of 
 the text — "Will ye also go away?" and also those other 
 words, which I repeated more than once, " You may go 
 away, if you wish" — that I was standing at his side repeat- 
 ing them — "You may go away, if you wish." Poor man! 
 perhaps it was the Spirit of the Lord making a last eff'ort 
 for his restoration. 
 
 We had a gracious season at almost every service ; mem- 
 bers of other churches were present, and seemed to enjoy 
 themselves very much. Other preachers besides those of 
 our church favored us with their presence and help- and 
 that Baptist brother I was telling you of, seemed much in- 
 terested ; and I was very glad to see bim among us. 
 
 Mourners came up, and in the congregation there were 
 
260 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 signs that the good work was going on ; but it was not so 
 manifest, so general, as I had hoped to see it ; and the 
 mourners w^ere not so deeply affected as I thought they 
 ought to be. Thej^ did not linger at the altar as long as 
 they often do; and the congregation, though serious and 
 attentive, did not seem so deeply impressed. This dis- 
 couraged me ; for unfortunatelj', I am of sudden impulses — 
 sometimes very high up, and then again, in the depths of 
 the valley — as Brother Durant would say : to-day exalted, 
 almost above the "blue throned stars;" and to-morrow very 
 low down in some gloomy vale — to-day thinking that the 
 meeting ought to be protracted for a long time ; and to-mor- 
 row believing it should be closed, and requesting the friends 
 to wind up. I had felt depression creeping over me for some 
 time during the day ; and at night I Avas much cast down — 
 more so than I would have been, perhaps, had I conversed 
 with Dr. S. before service. O ! how well do I recollect the 
 time — of all the night-meetings that I have ever attended, 
 perhaps few are so well remembered by me. It was raining 
 — not so as to keep those away who wished to attend, but 
 enough to serve as an excuse to any who felt inclined to 
 remain at home — and we had quite a small turn-out. I re- 
 solved to close the meeting — to wind up the banner, and call 
 a retreat. I concluded not to consult any one, lest I should 
 be advised not to do so. I had before this, expecting what 
 
 might happen, sent word to a preacher at M. , to expect 
 
 me at such a time. 
 
 When the services were over, I told the congregation I 
 would close the meeting ; but suddenly I was powerfully 
 impressed, and told them I had something to say to them 
 before they were dismissed. I told them, I felt convinced 
 that there was a much better feeling prevalent than I thought 
 there had been a short time before ; that there were a lady 
 and gentleman who had never before thought so seriously of 
 religion as they had done since the commencement of the 
 meeting — particularly that night. I repeated the remark 
 again, that I knew it was so ; and if I never realized it in this 
 life, I would go to the judgment seat, feeling I had spoken 
 the truth ; and if it could be proven otherwise, any one was 
 
AN UNEXPECTED LETTEK. 261 
 
 welcome to do so. I then dismissed the congregation ; and 
 the protracted meeting was closed, and the small congrega- 
 tion retired to their homes, with such thoughts as will only 
 be known in eternity. 
 
 I went home that night with Dr. Z., with such feelings as 
 I have seldom experienced, strongly impressed with the 
 truth of the declaration which I had made. I retired to 
 rest, not to sleep, but to think of the conviction still upon 
 me — believing firmly that if I knew no more of it in this 
 life, I would hereafter. In the morning, the same feeling 
 was upon me, and I concluded that I would have to renew 
 the meeting ; but I thought it best not to say any thing of 
 my determination. And, O ! how I longed for the presence 
 of some of my much-loved friends, that we might advise and 
 pray together; but I kept my thoughts to myself. The 
 family expected me to leave the next day, and Brother Z. 
 
 said, " I will go to D for your trunk, and you can take 
 
 the cars from this place." If I had told him what I felt, I 
 would have informed him of my change of mind ; but I said 
 nothing, and the Lord only knows how I tried to pray while 
 he was gone — still convinced that the meeting would be re- 
 newed. 
 
 Dr. Z.'s house was a green place in this wilderness world, 
 where I spent many happy hours, never to be forgotten. 
 Preacher of the cross, have you ever been there ? If so, I 
 know you enjoyed yourself. And did you not feel like say- 
 ing, "sin has not blighted all on earth;" mother Eve has yet 
 some pure and heavenly-minded daughters in this fallen 
 world? But Dr. Z. has been called from earth, where he 
 did so much for his Saviour, to see, adore, and praise him in 
 the Paradise above. Farewell ! thou prince in our Israel ; I 
 hope to meet thee again, to part no more. 
 
 "When Dr. Z. returned, there was a marked expression on 
 his face. He said, " Brother B., I have brought your trunk ; 
 but I do not expect you to leave." When he inquired for it, 
 he was told a letter had been left for me, which had been 
 sent by a very respectable person of the town ; and although 
 he did not know its contents, he was so sure that I would 
 renew the meeting, that he came near telling Brother W. to 
 
2G2 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 give out an appointment for mo. I opened and read the 
 letter, and I am sorry it was burned with my house. It was 
 from a lady, who said, I had never spoken a greater truth 
 than last night ; and she reminded me of saying, I might 
 never know more until at the judgment ; l)ut she Avishcd me 
 to know before leaving the place, that there were two per- 
 sons present, herself and husband, who had never felt so 
 much of religious influence in their lives as they did that 
 night — though they did not know each other's thoughts 
 until they left the church ; that on their way home her has- 
 band told her how much distressed he was ; that she said 
 she felt the same^that he knelt at his seat for the first 
 time ; and that one preferred the Presbyterian, and the 
 other the Episcopal, Church ; and she asked me to pray for 
 them. Those of you who know me well, can fancy how I 
 felt. I then told Brother Z. how I had felt ever since I had 
 closed the meeting, and of my conviction that it must be re- 
 newed ; and I told him to give out preaching for me on such 
 a night. How thankful I felt that I was so soon to realize 
 my prophecy ; how I prayed for a manifestation of the Holy 
 Spirit; how I longed for the presence of my absent friend^! 
 If I could have had my wish granted me, how soon would 
 Brothers S., and M., and D., and E., and others have been 
 with me to assist in the good work. 
 
 We were again at the church; and, O! how I felt the 
 Strength of Israel with me. I think my faith was never 
 more strongly fixed on the Rock of Ages ; and I was sure of 
 a blessed meeting — as sure of it, as Brother Postell was at 
 Cattle Creek, in the days of " auld lang syne." I felt the 
 presence of the Lord as distinctly as ever before in my life. 
 I had only heard of two persons whom I might expect at 
 the altar ; but something told me others would come. I in- 
 vited up mourners, and said there were five persons who 
 would come — that nothing could prevent them ; and up 
 they came at once. You know it is said, " Ask, and ye shall 
 receive ; seek, and ye shall find ; " and I asked the Lord to 
 give me twenty-five or thirty more, and soon the altar was 
 crowded. It was one of the happiest moments of my life, 
 for there was joy on earth and in heaven ; and of course, the 
 
263 
 
 Strange Preacher clapped his hands, and said, " Farewell 
 world, I am bound for the kingdom." The writer of the let- 
 ter and her husband were the first at the altar ; and I felt 
 as much interest in their conversion as if I had been told 
 they were going to join our church. I called to see them 
 more than once ; and I can never forget them. The lady 
 told me one day, that the night before, after two o'clock, 
 her husband woke her up, and said he felt worse than ever ; 
 and that nothing would do but that they should get up and 
 dress. She complied, and they went into the parlor, when 
 he read the Psalm that I had last read. 
 
 The meeting continued to increase in interest ; and Bro- 
 ther Z. one day said to me, " Have you noticed how the 
 children seem to be becoming more impressed at each ser- 
 vice. I expect to see many of them at the altar at the next 
 service." And so it was. They came up for the prayers of 
 the church. The work of the Lord was gloriously revived ; 
 many weeping souls were happily converted ; and we had 
 "the best of the wine at the last of the feast." 
 
 I have never seen that lady and her husband since ; but I 
 hope to meet them in heaven. 
 
 One thing more,. and I will be through with the meeting 
 
 at D . One day, as I was passing through the streets, 
 
 in company with that good Baptist brother, a little girl, 
 with a sweet smile, said to me, " Uncle B., mother told me 
 to tell you that we had a good meeting last night." I said, 
 " Yes, we did." She said, " Mother says, she has faith to 
 believe we will have a better one to-night, and I have too." 
 And with tears in his eyes, the Strange Preacher said, " Yes, 
 my child, and I have too." And the good brother said, he 
 also had faith to believe it. And so it was. Bless the Lord, 
 O ! my soul ; and praise him all ye powers within me, for 
 that never-to-be-forgotten night. I was glad that that letter 
 was written ; for we had "the best of the wine at the last of 
 the feast." 
 
LEAF THE THIRTY-NINTH 
 
 MEETINGS ON THE COOPER RIVER CIRCUIT, WITH MY MUCH- 
 LOVED FRIEND AND BROTHEH, THE REV. J. W. KELLY. 
 
 I met Brother Kelly for the first time at old Cane Creek ; 
 and I suspect he thinks as much of the place and its sur- 
 roundings as I do — for we both have good reasons for re- 
 membering Cane Creek. I have always loved Brother K., 
 for he has always shown me much respect and kindness, and 
 has always been a true friend. I will ever regard it as a 
 happy day for me, when I first met him and his now sainted 
 parents ; for I have seen only here and there a family like 
 Brother Kelly's. I have been with him often in private, 
 and at many good meetings — from Rock Springs to Cooper 
 River ; and I know him to be a workman that needeth not 
 to be ashamed, for he rightly divideth the word of the Lord, 
 giving both saint and sinner their portion in due season. 
 He is a whole-souled, thorough-going man, and a good, up- 
 right, devoted Christian. All hail ! to J. W. Kelly — my true 
 friend and brother. 
 
 Many years ago, I started to meet him at a quarterly 
 meeting, thence to go with him to other places. I have for- 
 gotten many of the events of that trip ; but I know that I 
 enjoyed myself very much, and found friends who were kind 
 and attentive to me. I had a much longer ride than I ex- 
 pected. I left home on Thursday, expecting to reach the 
 place in time for preaching on Saturday. The first night, I 
 stayed at Brother Appleby's — a local preacher, and a man 
 much respected by his friends — a pure child of heaven, too 
 good for this sinful world ; but he has been for years in the 
 land of the pious departed — the happy place of w^hich he so 
 often told us. I had the pleasure of attending many meet- 
 ings with him, and always found him faithful and kind — a 
 man you could depend on. He told me that he thought if I 
 would stay at Brother Williams's the next night, I could 
 arrive at my journey's end the next da3^ I was otf by time 
 
A HEAVY KIDE. 265 
 
 the next morning ; but remember little of that day, except 
 that I had a long, dreary ride, with nothing to interest me. 
 I went several miles out of my way, by taking the wrong 
 road ; but by the aid of Providence I reached Brother W.'s 
 about sunset — where both horse and rider found rest. I had 
 never met him before ; but I found his house a pleasant, 
 quiet place ; and I felt glad to think I was so near my des- 
 tination. After resting a while, I observed, that I expected 
 to reach such a place on the Cooper Eiver circuit early the 
 next day. I can imagine that I see Brother "W., as he 
 looked surprised, and said, " You will do well if you reach 
 the place in time for Sunday ; " and if I ever was astonished 
 in my life, it was at that time. Was it possible that I had a 
 long day's ride, before even reaching the neighborhood of the 
 place for w^hich I was bound ? I became cast down, and for 
 a time wished I had not started ; but I knew it would not 
 do to turn back ; and hope, the child of heaven, smiled upon 
 me, and I was resolved to go on. I spent a very pleasant 
 night at Brother W.'s, and made an early start in the morn- 
 ing, and got to Monk's Corner to dinner; but was still some 
 distance from the place, and I again became much discour- 
 aged. Saturday night, after dark, I reached a house, much 
 used up, and when I inquired how far off I was, I was told, 
 it was only five miles to the church. Only five miles ! I 
 could hardly believe it, and I felt at once much revived ; and 
 began to have somewhat the feelings that the exile has 
 when he has almost reached his long absent but much loved 
 home. Only five miles ! I will be there soon in the morn- 
 ing. I stayed near a church called Hickory Hill — a wayside 
 house, somewhat like old Shiloh of sanctified remembrance. 
 I thought of Brother K., and bygone days at other places — 
 Cane Creek, Goshen Hill, and Fish Dam. How they stood 
 before me, with other friends of " auld lang syne." 
 
 Sunday was a clear, bright, lovely day. Hovr well do I 
 remember the day, while writing these •' Stray Leaves," 
 amid the ruins of my much-loved Mamre ! I was in hopes 
 of being in time for love-feast ; but I could not leave as soon 
 as I wished to. The five miles seemed rather long, but I at 
 last reached the place, when I found the love-feast was not 
 17 
 
266 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 over, l)ut the doors were closed. I had l)een a h)nir time 
 cominii;; Brother. A. was wroiiii; ahout tlie distance. The 
 doors were opened, and the crowd came forth ; and I felt 
 like Ibrgetting my long, weary travel, when Brother K. gave 
 me one of his unequalled shakes of the hand, and said, "How 
 are you, Brother B.? I am ver^^ glad to see you." And Bro- 
 ther S. W. Capers came up with a firm, strong step, and a 
 pleasant smile on his noble face, and gave me a greeting 
 which would almost have made a captive prince forget for 
 the time his palace home. I was almost tempted to clap my 
 hands, and cry out, " Farewell world ! " Bless the Lord, O, 
 my soul ! for that Cooper Eiver welcome. May I not forget 
 it on earth, and think of it in heaven I All hail ! to my dear 
 departed friend, S. W. Capers, in glory. All hail ! to my 
 much-loved friend, J. W. Kelly. 
 
 I would have written a whole number as a memento of 
 the immortal S. W. Capers, but I was afraid to make the 
 effort ; not because I did not love and respect the man, but 
 because I knew too well that only a Homer could describe 
 an Achilles. So please let that be my excuse. Those who 
 have more than once heard him preach on extra occasions, 
 when the Lord was with him, I think, should never forget 
 him ; and those who were less fortunate, missed what they 
 would have remembered long with much interest. As I have 
 alluded to the departed hero, if you will excuse me, I will 
 say a few words about a sermon I heard from him. Though 
 not on an extra occasion, the Lord was with him. The sub- 
 ject was about growing in grace; and among other things, 
 he told us of a man whom he once knew, who ran well for a 
 while, and grew in grace when very poor, and when the 
 world frowned upon him ; but who made a sad decline in 
 his after life, when he owned riches and the w^orld's favor, 
 lie described him so much to the life, that I almost fancied 
 I had known the man. He began with him when he hi\d 
 just entered upon life, and was poor and homeless, and had 
 to work hard for his bread. He at last bought a few acres 
 of land, and erected a small log house, and then married a 
 poor woman. They were converted at the same time, and 
 started together for the better world. They continued to 
 
DANGER OF RICHES. 267 
 
 grow in grace, and were very devoted to the church. They 
 had to go some distance to church, across a hirge swamp, 
 and sometimes she had a child to carry in her arms ; but 
 they loved the Lord, and had some little to give in support 
 of the gospel. One day, he took an axe, and cut a foot-path 
 through the swamp, and threw a tree across the creek — 
 thereby shortening the distance. Sometimes, each one would 
 have a child to carry ; but they often got very happy, and 
 shouted aloud the praise of the Lord. After a while, he be- 
 gan to rise in the world ; and they both came to church on 
 one horse ; but they did not get happy as often as formerly. 
 And after a while, he bought a buggy ; but they Avere not 
 so regular in attending church as in their days of poverty. 
 He continued to prosper, and ere long had a fine carriage 
 and. horses ; but they were fast declining in grace, and 
 seldom went to church, except on extra occasions. He 
 finally became a public man, and was sent to the Legisla- 
 ture ; and then there was a fine church built near his house, 
 but he scarcely went there once a year — for he had lost his 
 religion, and gone back to the world. The picture was so 
 truthful, so like ix)or human nature, that it made a great 
 impression . 
 
 But let us return to Brother Kelly. 
 
 I am sorry I have forgotten so many things of interest 
 which transpired on that trip ; but I will tell you of what I 
 remember. I preached the first sermon that day. There 
 was a large crowd out, and my subject was, " Solomon, my 
 son" — which is one of my old favorites. The church must 
 have prayed that day, particularly the preacher ; for the 
 Holy Spirit came down in much power. Several persons 
 crossed the bar, making for the deep sea, under the influence 
 of a mighty spring-tide, which swept every thing before it ; 
 and some of the sisters were as happy as I thought they 
 could well be this side of the river of death ; and the grand 
 old woods around Hopewell rang with the shouts of the ran- 
 somed of the Lord. 
 
 I recollect one picture well — of a backslider, who had gone 
 back into forbidden paths. The Spirit of the Lord took hold 
 of him, as it were, and held him over the open jaws of hell. 
 
268 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 He was a tall man, and wore liis boots on the outside. Ho 
 came np with an ex])ression that seemed to say, " all tjio 
 devils of perdition are close behind me." 
 
 After an interval, Broth^j C. held forth ; and wo had a 
 most wonderful time. Tih'e' meeting was kept up till near 
 night. 
 
 Brother K. told me of an event which took place while I 
 was preaching, which if I had known at the time, might 
 have unhorsed the War Preacher, or at least caused him to 
 reel in his saddle. There was an old local minister, who was 
 very deaf, and who was much excited, and wished to hear 
 every word ; and he would now and then say, " Talk louder, 
 I can't hear you." Brother K. said he tried to stop him, 
 telling him he would disturb me; but he would soon begin 
 again. 
 
 Brother K. had a series of appointments, at which I was 
 to be with him ; but of some of them I have no recollection. 
 I think the next place we went to was the church where our 
 old deaf brother lived, and he was going to play the same 
 game again ; and Brother K. could only stop him by telling 
 him to sit nearer, and that I would speak louder. I was with 
 Brother K. at Hickory Grove, where we had a gracious sea- 
 son ; after which we passed through a gloomy section of 
 country — through swamps of awful names and dismal sur- 
 roundings ; and I felt like saying to myself, '-Jordan is a 
 hard road to travel, and so is Cooper Eiver circuit." But 
 my Cane Creek friend Was wnth me, who kept me from 
 being cast down and sad of heart. I have often wished I 
 had the tine flow of spirits that some men have. But the 
 Wandering Arab sometimes passes rapidly from one extreme 
 to another. I do not remember ever having seen Brother 
 K. with his harp on the willows. He reminds me of some 
 bold river, which flows on in its bold channel, whether heavy 
 rains fall or not ; and I have scarcely ever seen a more suit- 
 able travelling companion than Brother John W. Kelly. If 
 I was discouraged because of having made a failure, he would 
 tell me of a time when the Lord was present, and the parson 
 swung clear. If I was disappointed on account of the small 
 turn-out, ho would remind me of a time when the large 
 
KISSED BY AX ANGEL. 269 
 
 church was thronged, and the word went to the hearts of 
 the people. In my opinion, there are few such men to be 
 found, taking him up one side and down the other. He must 
 have entered the world in one of ISTature's happiest moods ; 
 and I suspect the first sweet kiBS he received was from the 
 lips of some holy angel, who smiled kindly as he bent over 
 the new-born infant. " May he live longer than I have time 
 to tell his years ; ever beloved and loving may his life be ; 
 and when old Time shall lead him to his end, goodness and 
 he fill up one monument." 
 
 We had a meeting near a place called Hell-hole Swamp. 
 What a name ! But the church was called Dawn of Hope — 
 a small house and congregation ; but the Strength of Israel 
 being with us, we had a most glorious meeting, and an old- 
 time shout in the camp. We also had quite an interesting 
 love-feast, with a gracious season from the Lord. There was 
 a good German brother present, who took quite a fancy to 
 the War Preacher ; and who, 1 was told afterwards, often 
 prayed for me in public — mentioning me as the Walterboro 
 preacher. That season of refreshing at that small way-side 
 church was, I think, hard to beat ; and I told Brother K., I 
 thought the name should be changed from Dawn of Hope to 
 Hope Eealized. 
 
 We next went to a church called the Fort's Church, which 
 was one the chief places on the circuit ; and I think we there 
 had our best meeting. It was a time of great rejoicing and 
 happy remembrance. The congregation seemed to be under 
 the direct influence of the Holy Ghost. There was a Bro- 
 ther John Forts there, one of the princes of our Israel — a 
 young man of strong faith and works, full of hope and love. 
 I was much impressed in his favor, and was glad to form his 
 acquaintance, and to meet him at other places. I remember 
 one day particularly, at this church, there was an old lady 
 of over eighty years of age, who was still unconverted at 
 that late hour of life. And there was a great manifestation 
 of the Spirit in the crowd, and the church was filled with 
 the Divine presence; and that old lady was deeply con- 
 victed, and made a complete surrender of herself to the 
 
270 STRAY I.EAVKS. 
 
 Lord, and ]Kissod from death unto life; and iicr fri'ends re- 
 joiced with her. 
 
 We then had a two days' nieetini^ at a church called 
 Bethel, where there had been camp-meetings many years 
 before ;* but the tents were then in ruins, and the old place 
 looked as if it knew its glory had departed. The meeting 
 was a pleasant one, without a great manifestation of the 
 Lord in our midst — but the church was somewhat comforted 
 and strengthened. We stayed mostly while there with a 
 lady who lived near the church, Avhich was a place of quiet 
 and repose for the preacher of the gospel, where, when tired 
 and cast down, he might rest from the troubles and turmoils 
 of life. I was much pleased with that quiet hermitage, and 
 its gentle mistress, sister Layton, who lived so near old 
 Bethel, and its forsaken camp-ground. I see the cottage 
 now, so lovingly surrounded by its friendly trees, and Bro- 
 ther K. and myself seated close together. O ! what a sweet 
 place in this desert world was that to the preacher, on the 
 Cooper Eiver circuit! 
 
 Some years after this, I w^ent to another part of the cir- 
 cuit, to be with Brother K. again. I went down on the rail- 
 road, and got off near Summerville ; but there was some 
 mistake — I was expected to come from Charleston by the 
 morning train, and the person who was there to meet me 
 had. left before the down train arrived — so I was at the end 
 of my rope. Those of you who have passed the L* Turn- 
 out, know that it has not a very promising look ; and it 
 might be regarded by some as one of thos3 jumping-olf 
 places of which you have heard. I hope I may never have 
 to get off there again, with no one to meet me. I did not 
 know w^hat to do w^ith myself; and felt the " b!ues" coming 
 on rapidly. If I had been called on then for a sermon, I 
 suppose it w^ould have been from, " Why art thou cast down, 
 O, my soul ! " I began to think of my distant home, and 
 that my roving life had some very unpleasant pictures con- 
 nected with it — such as my present unpleasant situation. I 
 have never tried that place since ; I am afraid of it. But 
 hope smiled on me, and whispered, " better days a-head, 
 w^hen you step off the cars above, at the Mount Zion depot, 
 
EXPERIENCE OF A HORSE. 271 
 
 on the other side of the flood ; many friends will be there 
 waiting for you. Your much-loved mother will be there, 
 among the first to greet you with a sweet kiss on the left 
 cheek, as she did that night in the dream, and will say, ' wel- 
 come home to heaven, my Methodist son, I am glad to see 
 
 you 
 
 > n 
 
 And the vStranore Preacher was at once on the moun- 
 
 tain top ; and should he have been called on for a sermon 
 then, it would have been from, " I was glad when they said 
 unto me, let us go unto the house of the Lord." 
 
 Some one told me, there was a free negro, named Lamb, 
 living near, who was a clever person, and a member of the 
 church, who would help me on my way. vSo I went there, 
 and found every thing very comfortable around him, with 
 plenty of money and servants ; but he kept his proper place. 
 A good dinner was served — himself and wife waiting on the 
 Strange Preacher; after which he sent me to Monk's Cor- 
 ner. But I was still some twenty miles from the church. 
 I was told there was to be night-meeting, and that I could 
 reach it in time, by riding an old horse which had been 
 placed at my service — which, they said, did very well with 
 a spur. And so the Strange Preacher started off, with the 
 tide of feeling again turning. That was in some respects the 
 most unpleasant ride I ever had. I found the horse very 
 slow, moving at a snail's pace ; but by using the spur fre- 
 quently, he would go off in a long, jolting, rough trot, which 
 would not last more than a hundred yards, when he would 
 again relapse into his slow gait. Did you ever see a horse 
 that would trot all day under the shade of a tree ? Did you 
 ever see a horse that, it seemed to you, whenever you spurred 
 him on one side, that would move while the other stood still? 
 I thought I was riding such an one that evening. I only went 
 a few miles, and stopped all night at a good Baptist brother's 
 house. He knew the horse I was riding, for he once owned 
 him ; and he said he was sorry for me, for he was the mean- 
 est saddle horse he ever saw ; and 1 was yet a long way from 
 the church. I was completely used up ; but the family were 
 very kind, and did all they could to make me feel at home, 
 and I spent some pleasant hours under that friendly roof. 
 My slumber was profound ; and Sunday morning found me 
 
272 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 iiiucli retVcslied aiul streiigtheiied. My kind Baptist brother 
 was Borry tor lue, when he thought of ni}' liaving to ride that 
 rough horse again ; and 8aid, he had two good spurs, and 
 woukl mount him himself, and see if he coukl not make both 
 sides go at the same time ; and he had a gentle horse that I 
 could ride, and his wife would go too. vSo we started off for 
 church that holy morning. How different was the morning 
 ride to that of the past evening. The roads, woods, and wea- 
 ther were all the same ; and yet the situation was very differ- 
 ent. How was it ? I was better mounted, and had friends with 
 me who loved the Lord : and, what a difference that makes ! 
 We arrived safely, and there was another Cooper River 
 greeting. Brother K. had given me out, and regretted much 
 my not having been met at the Turn-out. We had a fine old- 
 time meeS:ing of much interest — at least in one event, if no 
 more. There was a Major Durant there — a relative of Bro- 
 ther Henry Durant, whose wife was a good member of the 
 church, but there was little hope of his ever becoming one. 
 Brother K. had no expectation of his ever embracing the 
 terms of salvation. His was a fine family, and I took quite 
 a fancy to them. I was much pleased with the gentleman; 
 and began to pray for him, and hoped he would join before I 
 left. We stayed with them ; and although it was my first 
 visit, it seei^ied to me that I had known them for years. I 
 felt sorry that he was so indifferent, and hoped yet to see 
 him start for heaven. My faith became still stronger, and I 
 counted on his coming, and began to call him " brother." 
 Brother K. told me he thought I had best not do so, as he 
 was afraid his day of grace was gone ; but he thought if he 
 ever joined, he would become a zealous member. They got 
 Brother K. to baptize their child ; but at the last day he had 
 not joined. Still my faith was strong. I preached ; Brother 
 K. exhorted ; and we had a glorious time — but when the 
 door of the church was opened. Major Durant did not come 
 forward. My faith did not waver. I told Brother K., as it 
 was his last time there, to exhort again, and then bid them 
 farewell — that he must give him another chance. And we 
 had a strong, forcible exhortation. Still the Major did not 
 come forward, but knelt at his seat. Though we were dis- 
 
COMING IN AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR. 273 
 
 missed, I had not given him up, and I made a last attempt : 
 I have never made such another effox't in all my life. The 
 Strange Preacher took his last arrow, and as he drew it to 
 the head, heaven, earth, and hell looked and listened — for 
 the fate of an immortal soul was trembling in the balance, 
 "We were outside the church. Shall heaven or hell win ? O, 
 glor}^ to the Lord, heaven was conqueror ! And we shouted 
 on earth, while angels rejoiced in glory. I stepped up to 
 Major D., but did not call him brother, and told him, I was 
 sorry he had disappointed me very much. He asked how ? 
 I told him, I had counted on his joining the church, but he 
 had not. "Mr. Bellinger," said he, '-I am sorry I did not; 
 but it is too late now." "Xo," I replied, '• it is not too late." 
 " JSTot too late?" said he, "then, i^lease sir, put my name 
 down." O, my soul, what a happy time we had! Those of 
 you who know Brother Iv. and the Strange Preacher Vv^ell, 
 may guess how much we enjoyed it. We had the best of 
 the meeting after being dismissed on the last day. And I 
 regard it as one of the most delightful moments of my life. 
 
 Brother Durant began at once to work for the Lord. After 
 some time, he came to me and said, that an old schoolmate 
 of his wished to join, and requested that his name might be 
 put down. I think I enjoyed myself that never^o-be-for- 
 gotten time as much as ever in my life. 
 
 I never saw Major D. again ; for a few months after, he 
 passed to his reward. Does it not look as if that were the 
 last offer ? And was it not coming in at the eleventh hour ? 
 I know the effort was out of the usual way, but I have never 
 regretted it. 
 
 Farewell to Brother J. W. Kelly, and to the Cooper Eiver 
 circuit. 
 
LEAF THE FORTIETH. 
 
 TROVIDENCE CAMP-r.UOUND, FISH DAM, AND BELMONT, UNION 
 DISTRICT, SOUTH CAROLINA. 
 
 I Started, about the first of August, to attend the Provi- 
 dence camp-meetino;, and after tliat, to fall in -with Brother 
 Fleming, of the Spartanburg J)istriet. One of my namesakes, 
 the son of an old and valued friend, Dr. Bates, had written a 
 pressing letter to me, requesting me to come to the camp- 
 meeting; and although I was expected at other places, I 
 concluded to go to old Providence once more. No one met 
 me at Orangeburg; but through the kindness of Brothers 
 Barton and Snell, I reached the ground the next day, in 
 time for the three o'clock sermon. This is one of the old 
 camp-grounds of the State — a holy place of immortal remem- 
 brance. I have attended several remarkable meetings there 
 in the days of " auld lang S3me." What a band of noble, 
 generous. Christian men — some of them gone over the flood, 
 but several yet left behind — stand in sublime relief, when I 
 think of time-honored Providence ! S. W. Capers, J. C. Pos- 
 tell, H. II. Durant, W. C. Kirkland, David Appleby, Dr. 
 Boyd, and others, are departed. N. Talley, C. Betts, W. G. 
 Connor, A. M. Chrietzburg, Rufus Felder, and many others, 
 are now living. How plainly do I see them before me now, 
 as when listening to their burning words, which at times 
 almost made me fancy myself in the green fields of Eden ! 
 Bless the Lord, O, my soul ! that I have so often felt my 
 blessed Saviour comforting and encouraging me at old Pro- 
 vidence. I have found the friends of the church there very 
 kind in these troublous times. O ! that the Lord would 
 save them all in his heavenly kingdom. I have been at 
 some wonderful meetings there, with Brothers S. W. Capers 
 and N. Talley. When I went there last, I missed some of 
 my old friends very much — Brother Mallard, the just and 
 upright ; Brother Thomas, one of the sweet singers of our 
 Israel, and a very useful and faithful servant of the Lord, 
 
275 
 
 full of joy, and faith, and love, but too good for this rough 
 world ; so the Lord took him home to heaven. I fancy I see 
 his hope-inspiring face now, as I often saw it in days gone 
 by. And father Evans was not there to greet me as in for- 
 mer years ; he was on the old Cypress circuit what father 
 David Felder was on the Barnwell. And that old hero, Bro- 
 ther Daniel Dantzler, was not there to cheer me. What a 
 pleasant place was the house of Brother D., for a weary 
 preacher to stop at just at sunset, when the stars were be- 
 ginning to gem the heavens ! 
 
 I remember now, almost as if it had occurred yesterday, a 
 scene that took place at old Providence many years ago. 
 Brother C. was the presiding-elder. It was a season of great 
 rejoicing. I preached ; and the Lord, in answer to the 
 prayers of the church, must have blessed me more than 
 usual. There was much of the Divine presence in the con- 
 gregation. I had drawn the picture of a happy death-bed — 
 which I wish you had to hang in your room, that you might 
 often look at it. The next morning, -a young preacher was 
 rather late getting up. Brother C. awoke him, and reproved 
 him for his late sleeping ; when he said, with a tear in his 
 eye,- " I am so sorry you woke me up, for I had a most beau- 
 tiful dream. I thought I was in Charleston, and some great 
 painter had just finished Brother B.'s picture; and several 
 persons had just retired to a certain distance, that they 
 might get a right view of it, when you roused me up." Bro- 
 ther C. told him, he was truly sorry ; and Advised him to 
 go to sleep, and try to dream it over again, 
 
 I was grateful that several of my old friends were still 
 left to greet me, and to rejoice with me last year. Brother 
 G. received me with a smile, and Brother W. Gr. Connor with 
 a kind greeting and a look from his expressive eyes that 
 went to my heart. I saw a good man there — one of the 
 heroes of Rock Springs memory, a strong, faithful, fervent 
 Christian — Brother Little. ^Ye had not met for fifteen 
 years ; but how swiftly did my thoughts go back to Eock 
 Springs, and I heard once more the songs of that tremen- 
 dous congregation. He preached twice, I think — a o-ood 
 sermon each time, strong and forcible. At times there 
 
2 70 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 seemed to be a good work going on among the people. I 
 had the pleasure of meeting Brethren W. H., and S. G., and 
 I., all good preachers, and famous for their good singing. 
 The elder preached only one sermon ; but it was one of those 
 efforts which both saint and sinner might listen to with 
 profit. All that I have heard from him for years have been 
 of the same style. And if there is a ])residing-elder of the 
 South Carolina Conference who can preach a better sermon 
 than the one I heard at Providence, I would be glad to hear 
 him. He made only one remark that I wish had been left 
 out. He represented the devil as a fisherman, and enlarged 
 on the idea, leaving out nothing. He then paused, and look- 
 ing at the Strange Preacher, he said, he knew the picture 
 was not finished, but he thought I could do it, and he hoped 
 I would, and rather thought the friends might expect some- 
 thing on that from me one of these days. You must know 
 that I have thought several times of something to add to the 
 picture, but my imagination could invent nothing ; and I am 
 afraid of being reminded by some persons that they are 
 anxious to see the finished picture ; and I expect to keep 
 clear of old Providence for some time, unless the friends will 
 promise not to insist on my putting the last touch to the 
 picture of the prince of hell as a fisherman. 
 
 And Brother W. G. Connor gave us a finished sermon on 
 the prodigal son. He is in some respects, in my opinion, 
 one of the most interesting preachers I ever heard, and his 
 effort on that occasion was one of his best, I think, not even 
 excepting that never-to-be-forgotten time at Aiken, when we 
 listened with so much pleasure vv^hile he told us of the time 
 when the morning stars sang together, and the sons of Grod 
 shouted for joy, when — to use a phrase so well known to 
 some of the preachers — he turned the corner so splendidly 
 at the rate of twenty miles an hour. There were several 
 things of which he told us in his sermon, that, it seemed to 
 me, ought to have reached the hearts of the most hardened 
 sinners present. The unfortunate youth, pn his return to the 
 much-loved homestead, stood so life-like before us ; the kind 
 and sorrowing father taking his stand by the road-side be- 
 fore the morning sun arose — before the lark had sung his 
 
UNPLEASANT TRAVELLING COMPANY. 277 
 
 hymn of praise to Jehovah — watching and praying, still in 
 vain, the weeping father stood ; and when the sun had gone 
 down, and the stars had come out, he was still there — -weep- 
 ing, hoping, looking ; and at last the prodigal came, and 
 then the fond embrace, the kiss of love. I wish all the exiles 
 from a mother's or father's heart could have been there ; for 
 I think they would have started at once to return home. 
 
 On my wa}' up the country, I stayed one night in Colum- 
 bia, where I had the pleasure of seeing Brother William T. 
 Capers, a son of Bishop Capers. How much be reminded 
 me of his sainted father — the same, sweet smile, the same 
 gentle greeting. I have always enjoyed his preaching. 
 
 I started the next day for Fish Dam, and Brother Flem- 
 ing's meetings ; but I found out that the stage would not go 
 to Spartanburg that day, and that I would have to stop at 
 Alston, which was not the most inviting place one ever saw 
 by a good deal. But a kind Providence directed otherwise. 
 A gentleman on the train got off there, and took me home 
 with him. He was a member' of our church, but I have for- 
 gotten his name. I spent a delightful time at his house. 
 His w^ife was from the old Concord neighborhood. And 
 while there, I thought often of those old heroes, Brothers 
 Barr, and Spann, and Smith; also of one of the sanctified 
 of earth, still living — Brother Joseph Holmes, once of the 
 Conference. If I ever saw a man of whom it might be 
 truly said, " He lived each revolving day as if it was his 
 last," Brother Holmes is the man. I spent a night where he 
 had lived many years before ; and I preached by request 
 that evening, which I hope was not in vain. 
 
 I took the stage the next morning for Shelton's Ferry on 
 Broad Eiver, where we would reach the cars. But I had 
 the misfortune to have some very unpleasant travelling com- 
 panions. Did you ever, preacher of the gospel, travel many 
 hours in close contact with a party of drinking men, who had 
 no respect for your feelings ? I have experienced it more than 
 once ; and I know it to be very trying. I hardly know which 
 was most unpleasant — the twenty smokers, near Gunter's 
 Bridge, or that stage ride to Broad Eiver. If it was not for 
 one exception — the presence of Major M. G. — I would have 
 
278 STRAY T.HAVES. 
 
 prcferrod being mounted on that old horse that travelled all 
 day under the shade of a tree. But there is an end to all 
 thinijs ; so I at last crossed the river, and rcafduMl the train. 
 How thankful I was that it was past! 
 
 I arrived a day after the time appointed : therefore T was 
 not expected. I got off at Sims' turn-out, within walking 
 distance of Brother Kelly's. The day was very warm ; and 
 I had two carpet-bags, an overcoat, and an umbrella, to 
 carry. I was cuml)ered with many things ; and while pass- 
 ing a house, a tremendous dog rushed out upon me. Both 
 hands were engaged. What was I to do ? He seemed ready 
 to spring at my throat ; and I thought, " is this to be the 
 end of life's pilgrimage with the "Wandering Arab?" O! no; 
 the lady of the mansion came to my rescue ; and I reached 
 Brother Kelly's safely, and was greeted as I had been on 
 Cooper Eiver, and soon all was right with me. I found one 
 of his sisters and her children with him ; and their dear 
 parents, and old Cane Creek, rose before me in fond remem- 
 brance, and I felt at once at home. We talked over old 
 times, and I found him the same true friend. He was living 
 at the place his father left him. 
 
 Sunday morning, we Avere off in time for love-feast. I had 
 been there before, but not in that church. It was one of the 
 oldest Methodist prcachin^places in the State, and some of 
 our venerable bishops had preached there. The famous pre- 
 siding-elder of the Spartanburg district. Brother Fleming, 
 was there, with open heart and hand to welcome me, and it 
 seems to me that I still feel the shake of his hand. 1 wish 
 I could have such welcomes oftener than I do in this un- 
 friendly world. I can never forget those happy hours. 
 
 The meeting was one of comfort to me, and to the church 
 generally, and it was said to have been the best they had 
 had for years. I saw once more some of the heroes of Cane 
 Creek — Brothers G-., and S., and H., and J., and others; and 
 O ! what a happy time we had ; and I thanked the Lord 
 that I had met them once more. I would not be much sur- 
 prised if the news went to heaven, that the Strange Preacher 
 was visiting again the scenes of early years, and some happy 
 spirits were bending over the golden walls, and regarding 
 
THE SNOW-STORM SERMON. 279 
 
 with pleasure the meeting of old friends upon earth. I hope 
 the departed saints — Brothers Kelly, Thomas, Jennings, Gril- 
 1am, Glenn, Postell, and others — were near us, and that they 
 were mingling in the throng unseen, rejoicing with us. 
 
 Brother Fleming fired off his right-hand barrel on Sunday, 
 loaded with pelters. I had not heard him since he was on 
 the Orangeburg circuit — when he wrote those verses on the 
 Wandering Arab. I always considered him a good preacher ; 
 but found that he had improved in the course of time. The 
 word went home to the hearts of those who heard ; and the 
 work was revived. The Strength of Israel was with us; and 
 the banner of the Lord waved in triumph ; and the meeting 
 was protracted. Brother F. had already told me, that his 
 entire work was in a state of revival, except at two j^oints ; 
 and he hoped and prayed that those places would be visited 
 from on high. He left us on Monday, and I was to remain 
 a day longer. Brother Mood was with us one day ; I had 
 not seen him for a long time. He preached a good sermon ; 
 but I have never known him make a failure. 
 
 Di*. G. took me home with him. I had been sick during 
 the first of the year, and had not entirely recovered — I 
 needed rest. He was to take me to the next meeting, on 
 Brother Ervin's circuit, where I had the pleasure of meeting 
 Brother Joseph Holmes. It has always been a treat for me 
 to be with that w^ar-worn veteran of the cross — the hero of 
 a hundred fields. In going home with Dr. G., I passed over 
 the old Goshen Hill camp-ground ; there was only one tent 
 left. It was about dark, and silence reigned all around. I 
 thought of the blessed times I had had there, and the dear 
 friends gone home to glory. Brother G. reminded me of the 
 night when I preached my snow-storm sermon, as the friends 
 called it ; and how, w^hen I was describing an awful storm, 
 the weather changed, or seemed to change; when some 
 thought that the thermometer had fallen thirty degrees ; 
 and one gentleman said, if the cotton was killed in August, 
 the Strange Preacher ought to be arrested before he left the 
 district. I remembered the night well, and also what one 
 of the preachers told me at the time. He said, he found 
 himself suddenly becoming cold, although he had on a thick 
 
280 STRAY leavp:s. 
 
 cotit ; and he turned up the collar, and l)nllonod it up r-lose ; 
 and would have ]mt on a cloak if he had had one. 
 
 TVe £^ot home some time after night, and the Doctor's wife 
 gave me an old Cane Creek welcome ; and all was right with 
 the Wandering Arab once more. What a house for the 
 preacher I How his comfort was looked after, and every 
 kindness shown him ! But I am afraid we will never see 
 each other this side of the^flood ; for l)r. G. moved to Texas 
 not long after. 
 
 Dr. S. came to see me, and we went over the dear old 
 times again. And we went to an old Baptist church close 
 by, and prayed together. O ! how I love those private de- 
 votions in the house of the Lord : for 1 have often thus 
 found my Saviour to the joy of my heart. Brother, dost 
 thou love to bend the knee alone, with no one near but the 
 God of earth and heaven ? Art thou regular in thus retiring 
 from the world to seek the 8on of David ? O ! that you may 
 always find him. 
 
 Dr. G. and myself started to meet Brother F. at Belmont 
 Church. We spent a little while at the house of a sister 
 Eice, of Goshen Hill memorj^ ; and I was sorry I had to 
 leave so soon — for the family was apparently as heavenl}'- 
 minded as I have ever met with in all my roving life. And 
 they gave much more than a cup of cool water to refresh 
 the weary traveller. 
 
 I passed where old Mount Prospect academy stood — where 
 I went to school more than fifty years ago. I thought of the 
 years long gone by ; and I saw the old pear-tree still stand- 
 ing, from which I had eaten fruit when a sehool-boy ; but 
 there was only one limb alive. What a tale of olden times 
 could that old tree have told, if it only had had a tongue ! 
 I wondered if it had forgotten when we played under its 
 shade over fifty years ago ; and if it still recollected the 
 merry laugh and hearty shout that were heard near it in 
 olden times. I am afraid it had much oftener heard the 
 angry word and horrid oath, than the holy song of Zion. 
 O! thou old pear-tree, if thou art still standing, one of those 
 boys, and I hope others, who more than fifty je^rs ago 
 often sported with his school-mates near thee, has long been 
 
BELMONT CHURCH. - 281 
 
 preaching the gospel, and hopes through grace, when life's 
 pilgrimage is over, to pluck the immortal fruit from the 
 trees which grow on the banks of the river that maketh 
 glad the city of the Lord. 
 
 We stopped that night at Dr. Hill's, and were well pro- 
 vided for. The next morning we started for the church, 
 and reached it in time. But let me first tell you of the 
 situation and surroundings of Belmont. 
 
 Next to old Springtown, it is the finest-looking place for 
 a church, I have ever seen. All hail! to Springtown in 
 Barnwell, and Belmont in Union District. For beauty and 
 loveliness, you surpass anything I have ever seen for a place 
 of prayer and praise. I had been wanting to see Belmont 
 for more than twenty years ; and I have often longed to 
 attend the camp-meetings held there in former years. 
 
 After shaking hands with many of the friends, and after 
 seeing the many noble trees that stood like guards around 
 the holy place, and after passing through the grave-yard, I 
 felt like saying, " O ! that I could have been here many years 
 ago." Brother Ervin was a friend that I was glad to see ; 
 for I had known him before he began to preach, and his pre- 
 sence recalled to mind dear places and loved friends. Old 
 Salem, in Lancaster District, was before me as large as life. 
 Brother Beckham and his wife, with Brother Frasier, and 
 many others, were in fancy present ; and we greeted each 
 other as in the days of " auld lang syne." 
 
 Brother F. came, and the meeting began, and embraced 
 two Sundays before it closed; and it was a time of rejoicing 
 for the people of the Lord. The Holy Spirit was present, 
 and a tide of happy feeling was rising, and there was a good 
 prospect for an old-time meeting. In the evening, the sub- 
 ject was, "Let us go unto the house of the Lord." The 
 meeting began finely, and the friends were expecting a re- 
 vival. I met with a kind greeting generally — very much so 
 from some. Brother G., with his pious wife and daughter, 
 won the Wandering Arab's heart by their kindness, and I 
 hope to remember them on earth, and meet them in heaven. 
 
 Sunday was the great day of the meeting, and many per- 
 sons had to remain outside of the house. We had an inter- 
 18 
 
282 STRAY leavp:s. 
 
 estincj love-feast, and then Brother F. preached an impressive 
 sermon ; and it was manifest to all that the Lord was in his 
 holy temple, walkini^ amid the golden candlesticks. Bro- 
 ther F. showed me as much respect as I have ever met with 
 from any presiding-older in all my life ; and he told me he 
 wanted me to preach a particular sermon at every place I 
 went with him, and he was to choose the time when it was 
 to be delivered. I tried it there ; it was the passage of Jor- 
 dan by Joshua and the children of Israel ; and Brother F. 
 gave us the distinguished gentleman from Ethiopia on Mon- 
 day. I learned something that day, and enjoyed the service 
 very much ; but he left us in the evening. 
 
 The meeting continued to be interesting; and I enjoyed 
 the singing there better than at any other place during my 
 trip of two months. Many mourners crowded the altar — 
 among them a blind gentleman. And, O ! how much I en- 
 joyed the singing of the ladies of Belmont. I was told, that 
 the church had not been thus visited by the Holy One of 
 Israel for many years. 
 
 Brother Melton was with us, doing good service for the 
 Lord ; and Brother Ervin came gallantly to the help of the 
 Lord against the mighty. He is a noble example of the 
 Christian gentleman — so kind and winning in his manners. 
 He is a man that all the church should love. I do not think 
 I could remain cast down in his cheering presence. 
 
 I was six days with the friends there ; and, ! what a 
 happy time was the last evening ! It was with reluctance 
 that I left them. Dr. Gumming, from Spartanburg, took 
 my place ; and the meeting was kept up With blessed results 
 to the end. Bless the Lord, O 1 my soul, for that visit to 
 Belmont. 
 
LEAF THE FOETY-FIRST. 
 
 MESOPOTAMIA, UNION DISTRICT. 
 
 On Friday morning, I bade farewell to my new-found 
 friends at Belmont. A member of our church kindly offered 
 to take me to a place called Mesopotamia, where I was to 
 meet Brother F. I had a very different ride on this occa- 
 sion from the one in the stage — for there was a brother 
 Christian with me. We crossed the Tiger Eiver, and at last 
 entered upon a famous section of country — the mueh-talked- 
 of Pea Ridge neighbourhood. I was there at last. All hail 1 
 to the Pea Eidge country. I had often heard of the region 
 before, and had been invited to attend some meetings up 
 there, but something always prevented me. At last, how- 
 ever, the Strange Preacher was in that famous stronghold 
 of the devil. But I had yet to preach my first sermon on 
 Pea Eidge ; and I thought I would not be able to unfurl my 
 flag in that notable land. I was afraid that the prince of 
 hell had very little trouble with his friends in that vicinity ; 
 for, with but few exceptions, all went on to suit his pleasure. 
 On we toiled through that remarkable portion of the up- 
 country — seeing the same sights all the time. And I felt my 
 noble war-horse more than once bearing strongly on the bit, 
 as if he were longing for a charge on the powers of darkness ; 
 and the Wandering Arab felt like calling out, " Once more 
 to the charge, dear friends, once more." And he more than 
 once grasped his Damascus blade, and longed to be in some 
 famous passage of arms with the hosts of the Lord against 
 the legions of Satan. But we are told, that '• every cloud 
 has a silver lining," so there must be some lovely pictures to 
 be seen, spiritually, if not temporally, in Pea Eidge. So let 
 us fondly hope — though we have often heard that hell's 
 throne is set up there — that the Holy One of Israel has 
 some followers there, who are bound for heaven ; and that 
 some who are now in the Jerusalem above, once lived in 
 that region. For I must believe, that though the visits of 
 
284 STRAY lp:aves. 
 
 the holy angels to that country are " few and far between," 
 yet they surely come sometimes on missions of mercy and 
 love, and sometimes carry the unexpected and, therefore, 
 glad news to heaven, that some mourning soul has passed 
 from'death to life, whose home was in Pea liidge. I would 
 feel too sad, if I thought there were no glorious death-bed 
 scenes connected with that country — that no saint of the 
 Lord has fought the fight of faith, amid the trials and tempt- 
 ations of that noted region. For sweet flowers are some- 
 times found growing in the most desert places of this world ; 
 and they are far more lovely, and more likely to win the 
 notice of the passing traveller, because they are so un- 
 hoped for. 
 
 As I was leaving that famous region, I took off my hat, 
 and bade it farewell. O ! that some preacher of the gospel 
 may yet be raised within its limits, who will be valiant for 
 the truth, and the hero of a hundred battle-fields. And, O ! 
 that the Wandering Arab may yet, through grace, save 
 some souls for heaven from the noted Pea Eidge country. 
 
 It was now near sunset. AYhere shall we stay for the 
 night ? was more than once asked of my companion. And 
 I was told, that at the house of a gentleman from the low- 
 country, a Mr, D., was a very good place. I observed, that 
 I knew a family of that name, whom I respected very much 
 — though I had no idea this was the family. But I was told 
 that the eldest brother had married up there. 
 
 It was some time after dark before we reached Mr. D.'s. 
 I called at the gate. A voice within, said, " Brother, Mr. 
 Bellinger has come." I was recognized by my voice. It 
 proved to be the same family I knew, and I was greeted 
 with another Cooper River welcome. We were glad to see 
 each other ; and it was a pleasant reunion mixed with some 
 sad thoughts — for we had all lost some dear friends, and 
 some still more loved relatives, since we last met. I was 
 most kindly entertained, and w^as pressed to remain longer. 
 Brother Fleming, wishing to take me by surprise, would not 
 tell me of their being up there. 
 
 The meeting began the next morning. Brother F. was 
 there, Avith his flag on the outer wall. The services began 
 
THE BLIND PREACHER. 285 
 
 under very favorable auspices, and continued good from 
 first to last. Nearly everybody was a stranger to me ; but 
 I met with a kind welcome from all. The signs were pro- 
 mising, and we expected a good time ; and, bless the Lord, 
 we were not disappointed. Brother F. opened the battle — 
 in person charging at the head of the hosts of the Lord ; 
 and a victory was won over the powers of hell. I was intro- 
 duced to a young Baptist preacher, who appeared to be very 
 pious, and devoted to the good work. He was unfortunately 
 blind, but took much interest in the meeting, and remained 
 with us till the end. Brother Watson was the preacher in 
 charge, and said he remembered seeing me, before he was 
 grown, near Cokesbury. He made a strong impression on 
 my mind — more so than many young preachers I have seen. 
 I have met with but few who pleased me more, than the 
 noble and generous-hearted Brother Watson, who fought for 
 our lost cause, but failed to win ; for the earthly flag under 
 which he marched was struck at last. But bless the Lord, 
 O ! my soul, he has been for years fighting spiritually under 
 the blood sprinkled banner of Calvary, which has never yet, 
 or ever will be, lowered to mortal or immortal foes. All 
 hail ! to Brother W., who came up so gallantly to the help 
 of the Lord against the mighty. 
 
 I became acquainted with several ladies and gentlemen, 
 who paid me much attention. Brothers S. Walker and Lit- 
 tlejohn seemed to be the chief men of the church; and I felt 
 much drawn towards them. 
 
 The first Sabbath of our meeting was one of the days of 
 the Son of man. There was such a crowd, that not more 
 than half could be accommodated. We had a most interest- 
 ing love-feast ; if I could only be in such a one once a month, 
 I would be a far better man than I am, and would live nearer 
 the throne of grace than I do. But such blessed feasts of 
 love in this wicked world, are ^' like angels' visits, few and 
 far between." Many told us of what the Lord had done for 
 them ; and Brother Watson sung a few lines of some suitable 
 hymns — while the fires of love burned upon the human 
 hearts, and the Lord was praised by mortal lips. Our young 
 Baptist brother was much moved, and reminded me of Dr. 
 
286 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 S. in his first love-feaSt. lie spoke with strong emotion, and 
 a fine impression was made. O ! my soul, how the Wander- 
 ing Arab exulted in the Lord, his Strength and his Ee- 
 deemer. 
 
 When tlie congregation assembled, every place was filled ; 
 and Brother F. made one of his happiest elforts ; and by the 
 help of grace many sinners were wounded by the arrows of 
 truth. Among other things, he told us of a wonderful re- 
 vival at a wicked place in the old North State, when every 
 one in the place, except two, became members of the church ; 
 and that one day during the meeting, a gentleman thus pri- 
 vately addressed a friend — both of whom had been officers in 
 our late war for freedom — " You remember such a battle ? 
 Just before going into it, I promised the Lord, if he brought 
 me out safe, I would try to serve him." The other replied, 
 " General, I made the same promise." " And now," said the 
 first, " I intend to fulfill my vow." The other replied", '' And 
 80 do I." And I think both joined the church at thart 
 meeting. 
 
 I preached in the evening, at the request of Brother F., 
 on the crossing of the Jordan by the children of Israel ; and 
 the Lord revived his work — many hardened sinners were 
 cut to the heart, and many mourners were seeking salvation. 
 Bless the Lord, ! my soul, for the outpouring of the Holy 
 Spirit on that day. 
 
 His w^ork calling him to other fields. Brother Fleming, as 
 usual, left me to go on with the meeting ; but there was a 
 local minister with us, whose name I have forgotten. He 
 was very zealous and devoted, and a whole-souled man of 
 God, fully bound for heaven. He jireached twice for us, and 
 prayed at times as if he had hold on the the horns of the 
 altar, and would not let go without the blessing. This was, 
 in some respects, the best meeting of the trip — many were 
 soundly converted, and the glad news was known in glory. 
 The colored people turned out in crowds, and appeared to 
 enjoy themselves. Our Baptist brother preached two good 
 sermons for us, and was of much service to us in prayer- 
 meetings. Members of other denominations seemed to enter 
 with interest into the services, and seemed to be drinking of 
 
THE HAPPY 'TUESDAY. 287 
 
 the wells of salvation ; and I liad the pleasure of spending 
 many blessed hours of joy and comfort to my heart. How 
 much those dear and newly-found friends reminded me of 
 some much respected in the bounds of the old Walterboro 
 circuit. Brother W. is a man among a thousand — a prince 
 among princes. Some one said, if I had seen his departed 
 brother, I would have been more pleased with him. That 
 might have been the reason why they were separated — that 
 one might serve in the upper temple, while the other was 
 left to bless the church and the world in these degenerate 
 days. 
 
 I hope long to remember that nine days' meeting ; and 
 Tuesday after the first vSunday in September, 1866, I hope 
 was a day of rejoicing both in earth and heaven. Let it be 
 regarded as one of the happy days of the year ; let it be 
 marked down, as an old Eoman would have done, with a 
 white stone. At least, so says the Wandering Arab — for I 
 think it was the happiest day, spiritually, that I had seen 
 for ten years. At that Black Swamp meeting, mentioned in 
 a former number, I was blessed more than 1 thought I had 
 ever been before ; and so far as I understood it, I thought I 
 had obtained the blessing of perfect love, and I enjoyed Jt 
 for some time ; but, alas for me ! after a w^iile, I declined in 
 my spiritual life, and I know that I did not love the Lord as 
 much, and serve him as faithfully, as I had done ; and, 
 though living in the comforts of religion, I had lost the 
 greater blessing. Now, I do not say that my soul was 
 sanctified on that Tuesday, but I believe it was the happiest 
 day I had seen for many years ; and I hope I have been 
 getting on better since that day. To the Lord, Most High, 
 be all the glory. 
 
 Day after day, the blessed revival went on. Hardened 
 sinners were convicted, and fled to the cross for salvation. 
 At times the crowd was not so large, as some were com- 
 pelled to remain at home ; but Jehovah was ever present in 
 his temple, to bless all who drew nigh to him in spirit and 
 in truth. There was one young man, who was regarded as 
 almost beyond all hope, who was powerfully impressed, in 
 spite of all his efforts to appear indifi'erent. 
 
288 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 The last day of the meeting had come, and, by request, I 
 preached twice on that holy day. Praise the Lord, O ! my 
 soul, for that closing blessing. With many tears, I bade the 
 friends farewell. And after I left the church, a stranger 
 came up to me, and threw his arms around my neck, weep- 
 ing very much ; and the Wandering Arab said to himself, 
 *' This must be one of the old-time shouting Methodists." 
 I asked his name, and he said he was a member of the Bap- 
 tist church ; that he had enjoyed the meeting very much ; 
 and he asked me to i)ray for him, that we might meet in 
 heaven. 
 
 Farewell to the dear friends of Mesopotamia, where I saw 
 the best meeting of my long trip. Farewell to all the Metho- 
 dists and Baptists there, who treated me so kindly. Fare- 
 well to the gentle maid, named after her own river — the 
 "Pacolet." Farewell to the kind ladies of that place. 
 
LEAF THE FOETY-SECOND. 
 
 MEETINGS AT CANNON'S CAMP-GROUND, AND IN THE TOWN OF 
 SPARTANBURG. 
 
 I started for Spartanburg, where I had been expected for 
 a month, but was prevented from going at the appointed 
 time by protracted meetings. Brother Watson and myself 
 went up in Brother Walker's carriage. Brother Watson has 
 a pleasant family, and no wonder he loves them so much. I 
 spent my last night with him. We travelled on very slowly, 
 but agreeably, for several hours. I had been from home a 
 long time, and often felt like returning. Dr. Littlejohn was 
 expecting us, and I was afraid we would be late in reaching 
 the place. When we got there, he had given us out, and 
 had dined without us ; but something was soon fixed up. 
 The good Christian gentleman had the prospect of a total 
 failure of his crop. He was very cheerful, however; and 
 seemed to be a well-read man, of much general information ; 
 and his wife and children were very agreeable. In the even- 
 ing, we stepped over to the house of the local minister, 
 whose name I have forgotten, and spent a pleasant time. 
 The Doctor had several impressive incidents to relate of the 
 days of '76, which he had heard from his father. And within 
 a few yards of his house, was the encampment of Colonel 
 Washington's horse, a few days before the battle of Cow- 
 pens, which was fought only a few miles from his j)lace. 
 
 I had not been to Spartanburg for fifteen years, and my 
 thoughts were both sad and pleasant while musing on my 
 second visit. I was told that religion was at a low ebb 
 there ; and I wondered how the friends would receive me, 
 after so many years' absence ; and whether the Lord's work 
 would be revived or not. 
 
 Dr. L., who went with us the next day, was well acquain- 
 ted with all that region of country, having lived there many 
 years ago ; and he knew almost every man, woman, and 
 child he saw on the road ; and every place seemed familiar 
 
290 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 to liiin. He told the histories of some families whose houses 
 we passed. lie was an interesting talker; and we listened 
 with more interest than to some sermons we had heard. We 
 stopped at his mother-in-law's for dinner — a good place for 
 the preachers to rest, as they passed on their missions of 
 mercy. That good sister must have often entertained the 
 servants of the Lord. We found that J3rother Sliarpe and his 
 family had been spending some time there. 
 
 We arrived at Spartanburg safely, after a long day's drive. 
 I went to Brother Fleming's, and shook hands with cousin 
 Carrie and the family; and then spent the night with Bro- 
 ther Lester — a much-respected friend. 
 
 In the morning, Brother AY. and Dr. L. returned to their 
 homes. Was it possible, I was in Spartanburg once more ? 
 What was to be the result of the expected passage of arms ? 
 Which side was to win, heaven or hell? What liag was to 
 wave in victory, that of Calvary or perdition ? Who were 
 to be convicted, and who converted ? Was the church soon 
 to be moved, or w^ould it require heavy and hard blows to 
 rouse up the children of Ziou, so that they would willingl}' 
 come up to- the help of the Lord ? Would the old friends 
 give me a warm Cooper Eiver welcome ? Such thoughts as 
 these often possessed my mind. 
 
 I had not yet seen sister Wright, Brother Bobo, and many 
 others ; but I hoped to see them soon ; for I could not feel 
 at home till I had. I had time to look about, and I met 
 several friends who greeted me as in olden times. And that 
 warm-hearted man — Brother K., had greeted me with a 
 gentle smile ; but I said to myself, " this is not up to Cooper 
 Eiver yet ; but it will do very w^ell.'' So I thanked the 
 Lord, and took courage. Some of the kind ladies of the 
 place had looked for me long, and had made ready to receive 
 me with something nice and inviting. You know, some 
 things will get out ; so, it had been noised abroad that the 
 parson was fond of a nice rice-pudding, and some of the 
 ladies had prepared it for him ; but he did not come, and they 
 were discouraged. But though cousin Carrie had been dis- 
 appointed more than once, she had faith to believe that the 
 missing one would turn up some time, and resolved to try it 
 
MEETING OLD FRIENDS. 291 
 
 once more ; and so it was, for the absent one was at last at 
 her house, where he met some warm friends, who greeted 
 him with a Cooper Eiver welcome. His faith and hope were 
 strong ; and his war-horse was bearing hard on the bit ; and 
 soon he would be ready to hang his banner on the outer wall. 
 
 At Brother F.'s, I met Dr. Smith, whom I had long known 
 and respected — a friend of the olden times ; also Professors 
 Dupre and Carlisle. They are all well known to fame, and 
 are faithful servants of our Saviour. And the hours passed 
 by very agreeably. Brother Black, from the Greenville Sta- 
 tion, was there, and appeared glad to see me, and wanted to 
 put me to work before I had rested enough. Brother F.'s 
 children treated me with much respect; and his dear little 
 Agnes, with her winning ways, made a life-time impression 
 on me. And before I left, I found out that Spartanburg had 
 two little angel girls living there, who, I tru^t, will often 
 remember me in their prayers ; and I hope our Saviour will 
 be unto them, " as the shadow of a great rock in a weary 
 land."' I was glad to see my dear friends, the Mulligans, of 
 whom I think so much. I had met them in much happier 
 circumstances, in the days of "auld lang syne." While writing 
 these lines, something seems to whisper to me, " those two 
 little angel girls prayed for you last night." 
 
 Before beginning with the meeting at Spartanburg, I will 
 tell you of the meeting at Cannon's. Brother F. took me 
 there on Saturday morning. It was my first visit there, 
 though I had often wished to be there. We overtook a 
 horseman mo\'ing slowly along, whom Brotlier F. appeared 
 glad to meet ; and I was introduced to Colonel Ballinger. 
 And I said to myself, " Is it possible that this is the man 
 whom I have been wanting to see for twenty years ?" Oar 
 names were very much alike. I had been told that I looked 
 like Colonel Ballinger, of Spartanburg District ; and was 
 asked if we were related. And so I had long been wanting 
 to meet him. I told hi*m of my desire to become acquainted 
 with him ; and he said that he had been as anxious to meet 
 me. He was one of the stewards on the circuit. Our first 
 meeting came very near being a fatal one to him, for his 
 horse stumbled, and fell on him, hurting him seriously. 
 
292 STRAY leaa^p:s. 
 
 We reached the ground ; but, from what I "vvas told, the 
 friends did not think they could support a camp-meeting; 
 but at last they concluded to do so. I found the ground 
 very much out of order ; many of the tents were fast going 
 to ruin, aryl that old battle-field was very much on the de- 
 cline — hence the first appearance was very unpromising. I 
 expected that many a struggle between light and darkness 
 had taken place there : sometimes one party seemed about 
 to gain the day, and then the other'side would recover and 
 finally gain the victory. I hope truth always prevailed. 
 
 Brother Sharpe, and the preacher on the circuit above, 
 united in their labor of love ; and I understood that they 
 had been blessed with great times generally ; and through 
 grace there was no failure this time. If those two ministers 
 are spared to the church, they will, with the help of the 
 Lord, accomplish much good. I became acquainted with 
 many persons, some of whom noticed me closely ; but this 
 seems to be the case wherever the Strange Preacher goes. 
 Brother Fleming wished me to lead the way. I heard some 
 of my favorite songs, and enjoyed them very much. When- 
 ever I visit a place for the first time, it requires some little 
 time for the friends to become accustomed to me ; but there 
 must have been more than usual prayer offered up now ; for 
 things went on as if I had long been known to them ; and, 
 through grace, there was a season of refreshing, and the 
 hosts of Israel struck their tents and started for the green 
 fields of Eden. We had the promise of a fine meeting. I 
 would have been glad to have remained at the time-honored 
 place; but the meeting in Spartanburg had begun, and I 
 could not well attend both ; for after having been at so many 
 places, I did not feel able to do much work. So we left in 
 the evening, expecting to return the next day. 
 
 Sunday came, and I started on my last visit to the camp- 
 ground. The great crowd would be out — the upper ten, and' 
 the lower ten, and all ; and there wou*ld be a general gather- 
 ing there that day. I was ordered to open the battle again. 
 We had old-time Methodist singing — how it climbed the hills 
 of heaven ; and we had a glorious time. Mourners crowded 
 the altar ; and many of the friends crossed the bar in splen- 
 
THE SPARTANBUEG MEETING. 293 
 
 did style. Brother F. preached at three o'clock, on a rather 
 singular subject — Samson's riddle. He swung clear, and I 
 learned a thing or two; for I found out that there were 
 more good fishing places on that creek than I thought there 
 were. Farewell to the old camp-ground; but I will not soon 
 forget it. . The meeting continued for nine days, with happy 
 results ; praise the Lord ! 
 
 Spartanburg had improved a great deal, in some respects, 
 since I was there before. Two flourishing colleges, a much 
 more suitable church, and several fine houses had been built. 
 But what were the religious prospects of the town ? For 
 that was the thing of most importance. I had seen the 
 pious, devoted sister Wright ; and she was glad to greet me 
 once more. I noticed many things ; and was a little afraid 
 of the result of the battle about to begin ; but I looked to 
 the hills, whence cometh my help. 
 
 The first night of the meeting came. I thought things 
 looked a little changed ; but I said to myself, " Now for some 
 of those old songs I enjoyed so much when Brother Mouzon 
 was on the station." But, hark! what was that 1 heard? 
 There was a melodeon in the church — which was quite a 
 change. The friends had heard that the parson did not 
 relish such things as much as they did, and so they did not 
 use it every time ; but he became more accustomed to it, 
 and sometimes thought it added to the interest of the ser- 
 vice — particularly when Brother Dupre sang that simple lay 
 that took the Strange Preacher's heart by storm, " There's 
 a light in the window for thee, brother." 
 
 The service went on from day to day ; but I had been to 
 so many good meetings, that I was a little cast down that 
 this did not compare favorably with them. But I hoped and 
 prayed on. I went, one morning, to Brother F.'s, and my 
 little Agnes came to me with a sweet smile, and said, "Uncle 
 Bellinger, I can repeat the Psalm you preached from on the 
 first night : ' I was glad when they said unto me, let us go 
 into the house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand within thy 
 gateSy O Jerusalem ! ' " I felt strengthened and encouraged, 
 and thought there was a better day coming for our meeting; 
 and I said to myself, " She must be one of my little angel 
 
294 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 girls of Spartanburg; but I hope I will find another, for I 
 would rather have two." 
 
 On Friday night, the turn-out was larger, and I began to 
 feel a little more at home, and felt sure that Brothers B. and 
 K., and sister W.. were praying for me. 
 
 The meeting went on slowly at first ; but on Saturday 
 night there was some slight advance ; still I was cast down, 
 and concluded that it was a hard place to move. For two 
 nights, rain prevented many of the people from attending 
 church. Dr. S. prayed once or twice, and the Wandering 
 Arab began to feel the heavenly influence coming upon him ; 
 and Brother Fleming said it was time to cross the Jordan, 
 for the services had been improving. Brother Lester prayed, 
 and the heavens seemed to be coming lower down, and the 
 earth rising. And Brother Dupre and his choir had sung 
 again, " There's a light in the window for thee, brother ; " 
 and the parson felt the tide gradually rising. When Brother 
 Bobo told me good night, he smiled, and I thought to my- 
 self, "You have not forgotten the old times in 1851." My 
 head-quarters were generally at his house. 
 
 I felt quite at home with Brother Kirby and his kind wife 
 and interesting children ; and I often thought, while with 
 him, of my much-loved friend, Brother Durant, and of the 
 pleasant times I had had with him at Eock Springs. 
 
 One day, while riding in the town, a dear little girl said 
 to me, " Good morning. Uncle Bellinger." I replied, " Good 
 morning ; but I do not know you." Her large black eyes 
 looked a little disappointed as she said, " You don't know 
 me ! Why, I am Mr. Lester's daughter ; and joii were at 
 our house the other da3^" And I said, " O ! yes, I remember 
 you now, and am glad to see you. Did you say your pray- 
 ers last night ?" " O ! yes," she replied, with a smile of love 
 in her bright eyes, " and I prayed for you, too." I told her, 
 I was so glad; and that she must come to church, and sit 
 w^here 1 could see her. She said, " I will be glad to come, 
 but father says I will go to sleep ; but if I was to sleep in 
 the evening, then I could keep awake." I replied, " Go 
 home, and tell your father, that I said, he must let you come 
 to church, and sit where I can see you." She seemed much 
 
PRAYING CHILDREN. 295 
 
 delighted as she tripped off, and the Wandering Arab said to 
 himself, " I have my other little angel girl, and we will have 
 a good meeting yet." I rode on, and found a little boy with 
 three apples. He gave me one, and said, that he too prayed 
 for me ; and I felt like clapping my hands right there, and 
 crying out, " Farewell world." Bless the Lord for praying 
 children. 
 
 That night the Lord was graciously present, and was walk- 
 ing amid the golden candlesticks. And the church came up 
 bravely to the helj) of the Lord against the mighty. And 
 my little angel girl sat where I could see her — there was 
 no sign of sleep in her beautiful black eyes. And Brother 
 Dupre sang again, " There's a light in the window for thee, 
 brother ; " and, bless the Lord, the holy work was at last 
 revived, and several mourners came to the altar — some of 
 them thereby surprising their friends very much. And I 
 said to myself, " We Avill, through grace, have a revival 
 among these friends yet." 
 
 One morning, feeling very tired, and nearly used up, and 
 feeling a little home-sick too, I was in my room seeking re- 
 pose, when one came in, with a smile of heaven on his face, 
 and a tear of joy in his eye, and speaking to me, said, " Sir, 
 I can say ' Farewell world ' now, feeling as happy as you did 
 last night." It was one of the young converts. I was at 
 once on the top of the mountains, and ready for au other 
 charge. Old Spartanburg was once more on the eve of a 
 great revival. ^N'ot unto man, but unto thy name, O ! Lord, 
 be all the glory given. 
 
 I called, one day, to see the wife of my much-loved friend, 
 Brother W. C. Kirkland. It was a sad meeting for both of 
 us. I do hope the Keeper of Israel will always protect that 
 family from all evil here, and save them in his kingdom 
 hereafter. How lonely and distressed she seemed for her 
 sainted husband in rest above. 
 
 I spent one night with Brother Dupre, the rain keeping 
 me there. I was not very sorry it turned out so, for I saw 
 more of that good man's family ; and I expect to remember 
 the time always, and wish I could spend many more such 
 evenings. 
 
296 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 A great revival l)egan, and Avas kept up for several daj^s 
 after I left, with much interest to the last. I was present at 
 more than one good prayer-meeting while there ; but I am 
 sorry I did not hear Brother Lester preach. I was glad to 
 listen to Dr. Smith, one night, from — " How long halt ye be- 
 tween two opinions?" And the Lord was powerfully pre- 
 sent. I had not heard him for many years, and it reminded 
 me of the days long gone by. And I was glad to find that 
 his "bow still abode in its strength." 
 
 I was expected soon to unfurl my banner in Greenville — 
 therefore I had to leave while th5 revival was still going on. 
 1 must take my farewell of Spartanburg. When shall we all 
 meet again ? Perhaps never again in this life. But how 
 will we meet ? Saved through grace, will it be ? I hope it 
 will be as friends who have loved, never to part again. 
 
 Farewell to all the kind friends of Spartanburg ! While 
 writing this number, I have been thinking, that if such a 
 thing could be, when I am called to cross the river of death, 
 I would like to have some of my Spartanburg friends, with 
 other loved ones, present ; and Brother Fleming to offer the 
 first prayer, and then to read the 122d Psalm — " I was gl^d 
 when they said unto me, let us go into the house of the 
 Lord;" with Brothers Bobo and Kirby near by, and the two 
 angel girls at my right side ; and then to have Professor 
 Carlisle to pray ; and then to have my much-loved family to 
 bid me farewell ; and then to have Brother Dupre and his 
 choir to sing — " There's a light in the window for thee, bro- 
 ther;" and, as I am passing away, to have Brother Lester 
 to pray as he did that night in the church ; and to have 
 Dr. Smith to perform the funeral service. 
 
 Farewell to my Spartanburg friends ; may we meet in 
 heaven ! 
 
LKAF THE FOETY-THIRB. 
 
 JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA; OR, THE STRANGE PREACHER RE- 
 QUESTED TO STAY TILL AFTER SUPPER. 
 
 Come friends, and go with me to the "Land of Flowers.'* 
 I will not keep you long, as my stay there was short. I 
 went from Bamberg to Charleston, and thence to the St. 
 John's Eiver, and in due time I arrived at Jacksonville. It 
 was my first visit, and I scarcely expected to see a single 
 person I knew. I was accustomed to such things. Before 
 I left the vessel, a young man from my District came up and 
 spoke to me, and seemed very glad to see me. 
 
 The next morning, I called to see the preacher of the sta- 
 tion. Brother G., a young man of much promise ; and I dis- 
 covered that his wife was a daughter of a local preacher of 
 South Carolina. I had first seen her at Abbeville court- 
 house, when a little girl ; and I met her, years after, in 
 Jacksonville, the wife of a minister. She remembered having 
 heard her father speak of me. Brother G-. said he would 
 like me to fill the pulpit for him at the next service ; but 
 that it had been given out that he was to preach the funeral 
 sermon of a member of the church ; so he wanted me to try 
 it that night, which I consented to do. 
 
 I was glad to meet with an old acquaintance from our 
 State — a Brother R. — who was a local preacher, and a gen- 
 tleman of pleasing manners. We had not met for several 
 years. 
 
 After service, I was requested to spend the evening at a 
 brother's house, where I was treated very kindly. Brother 
 R. and his wife were also there ; and I hope the time was 
 not wasted in vain discourse. My spirits were good, and I 
 was in hope that we w^ould have a good night-meeting. Re- 
 membering that I had to preach at night, I did not indulge 
 at dinner as much as I sometimes do ; and I spent some 
 time alone, thinking of my discourse for the night. But late 
 in the evening, I was again in thdr company. My spirits 
 19 
 
298 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 were high, and I requested Brother E. and his wife to sing 
 some of my favorite songs. I suspect there are but few per- 
 sons upon whom singing has such an effect as upon me. 
 Sometimes I am carried bej^ond all self-control, and feel as 
 much impressed as by the best sermons I have ever heard. 
 And at times, when I am very much cast down — quite low 
 down in the valley — some of my friends, Avho know what 
 songs I love to hear,, will sing for me ; and by degrees, my 
 feelings are raised, until I stand on the mountain-top. When 
 thus excited, if I meet with an unexpected check, I am very 
 suddenly depressed. 
 
 Now, that evening in Florida, one sweet song followed 
 another, and the parson's feelings continued to rise— he was 
 enjoying much such songs as, "Jerusalem, my happy home ;" 
 *' There is a liappy land, far, far away." The tide of feeling 
 rose higher, and he was soon on the mountain-top, or, as 
 Brother Durant would have said," he was almost above the 
 " blue throned stars." The impression on the little party was 
 strong; and the preacher requested that they would sing 
 one more song — "I would not live alway; I ask not to stay." 
 The tide of feeling was bearing every thing before it — as 
 when Dr. S. spoke twice in his first love-feast. And the 
 preacher was soon on his feet, feeling as he had often done, 
 while crying 'out, " once more to the charge, dear friends, 
 once more." He told his friends, he wanted "to live a Chris- 
 tian here, he wanted to die shouting." It has been said by 
 some one, that the "War Preacher is never seen in all his 
 glory, only while passing through the congregation, shaking 
 hands, with his flag flying. But you should have been there. 
 He never was much more impressed than on that Sabbath 
 evening. The lady of the house had never met the Wander- 
 ing Arab before ; and he doubtless appeared to her a very 
 singular person. But on, and still on, the sweet singing went ; 
 and he shook hands with each of the little party, and told 
 them how happy he was — that he was bound for the king- 
 dom, and hoped to meet them there. Brother E. was much 
 impressed, and gave the Strange Preacher a strong grasp of 
 the hand ; tears were falling fast around ; and «n the joarson 
 went, fully bound for the green fields of Eden, on the other 
 
IN A CLOSE PLACE. 301^ 
 
 church. I was requested to preach. ISTow, in. those days, I 
 kept no record of my texts ; but I^thought I would try some- 
 thing new to the friends ; and I hoped they would be pleased 
 with it. I said to Brother K., after we left the church, " I 
 guess you never heard me from that subject before." I re- 
 member his reply, and the expression of his face, to this day. 
 "Brother B.," he remarked, "I hope you will not mind my 
 saying, that when you read out your text, I said to myself, 
 'I think this will make the fourth time!'" The preacher 
 was let down somewhat. There was no denying, he felt the 
 tide turning rapidly the other way. 
 
 We were soon overtaken by a heavy shower, and got well 
 drenched. When we arrived at the house, I retired to put 
 on some of Brother B.'s clothes, who was not as large a man 
 as myself. I never was in such a fix before in all my life. 
 In those days, very tight pants were the fashion.. The 
 preacher had been told by his friends to hasten, as the din- 
 ner was ready. He strove to get into the pants, but it 
 would not do. E'ow, a knock at the door ; some one said, 
 "Please come now, the soap is cooling." The preacher 
 prilled and twisted ; but still there was no admission. The 
 writer of these " Stray Leaves" was evidently in a close 
 place, ^ow again, a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull alto- 
 gether ; but still in vain. Another knock, " Do come ; what 
 can be the matter ? You must be through with your pray- 
 ers by this time." A low voice within answers, " Do not 
 wait for me." The reply is, " Yes, we will ; but do come — • 
 the soup is cold now; are you not through with your pray- 
 ers yet?" A low voice from within replies, "I am not 
 praying ; I cannot get the pants on." 'Now, I stood on a 
 chair, and held the pants as wide open and as tight as possi- 
 ble, and jumped into them, and twisted and strained des- 
 perately. At last, they were on ; but, such a fit — so awful 
 tight. Now" the door opened, and out came the preacher, 
 with such feelings as he never had before. It was a custom 
 to stand up, in those days, to say grace. He thought all 
 eyes were upon him. When he was standing up, he was 
 afraid to sit down ; and when seated, he dreaded very much 
 getting up. What a relief it was for the preacher when the 
 
302 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 hour for repose came ! The parson retired to bed, Ba3nng to 
 himself, " I am afraid the friends have found out that I 
 never got the pants on till the drawers were left behind." 
 
 But to return to ni}' narrative. Next morning, I went to 
 the house of Colonel J. X. Brabham — a friend long known 
 and much respected. I was not expected, but it made no 
 diiference with them. I hope I left a blessing behind me 
 here ; for I know I found one in the very pleasant hours 
 spent with those pilgrims to Zion's hill. Next morning, I 
 started again, Colonel B. going with mS, to see me safe over 
 the Great Saltketcher; and, through a kind Providence, we 
 got over safe. And now we part. O ! when shall I see that 
 lover of my Saviour again ? If no more on earth, I hope we 
 may meet at last in the green fields of Eden, at rest forever 
 more. 
 
 Now I move along very slowly — my old horse reminding 
 me much of that famous one I once rode near Plonk's Cor- 
 ner, which was said to trot all day under the shade of a oak. 
 And now I pass by the burned stores, where many thousands 
 of dollars were once made, and by desolate homes, and I felt 
 like saying, "sic transit gloria mundiy 
 
 What is that which now attracts the attention of the 
 writer of the " Stray Leaves ? " for his imagination is now 
 spreading her wings for a flight. It was an old oak stand- 
 ing near an old homestead. Friend, did you ever see an old 
 tree or house, that seemed to you to have a melancholy tale 
 to tell ? I have noticed such more than once in my roving 
 life. You know that the Bible represents the trees as speak- 
 ing sometimes. 
 
 Let me tell you first of an old house, for which I feel very 
 sorry. It stands within the bounds of the present Bamberg 
 circuit, near a famous old mill that has had several names, 
 but is now called Nimmons' Mill. I was passing there not 
 long since, and it appeared to me that the (9ld mansion 
 looked more sad than ever before. I could almost fancy I 
 could hear it sigh, and say : 
 
 " O ! Eoving Preacher, I know you. Do you not feel 
 sorry for me ? My glory has long departed ; my happiest 
 days are gone ; I have often wished that my overthrow 
 
LAMENT OF THE OLD HOUSE. 303 
 
 would come. There was a time in the days of ' auld lang 
 syne,' when I was very happy, and enjoyed life much ; but 
 a mournful change .has come over me. There was a time, 
 when preachers stopped here, and rejoiced together, and 
 praised the great Eternal. I remember when you seldom 
 passed without entering my now deserted halls. But now, 
 your visits are less frequent than the angels' to this sin- 
 cursed earth — for they come sometimes, but you never. 
 Once, many years ago, I think it was when that much-loved 
 preacher, the Kev. W. P. Mouzon, travjsUed the Walterboro 
 circuit, you were riding by one day, and stopped, and seemed 
 much moved at my sad state. You dismounted, and came 
 into my silent rooms. There was no family living here then. 
 You at last knelt down; you were quite excited; you' 
 wrestled much in prayer ; you were blessed ; you rose from 
 knees, and said, ' Farewell world ! I am bound for the king- 
 dom.' You cried out aloud, 'Bless the Lord, O! _my soul; 
 and praise him, all ye powers within me.' You then rode 
 off, trying to sing, 
 
 ' I want to live a Christian here ; 
 1 want to die a-shouting ; 
 I want to feel my Saviour near. 
 When soul with body's parting.' 
 
 '* I now said to myself, ' a ^lethodist preacher has come 
 here at last, who very often led in family prayer here in the 
 olden time.' You had not gone long — -I know you had not 
 reached the old Clear-pond — when I said, ' I am alraid he 
 will never stop here again ; the last preacher has come and 
 gone of the many who used to stay here so often in the 
 happy years long gone.' T then said to myself, ' I wish I 
 could be overthrown ; I wish the lightnings of heaven, or 
 the strong winds, or the fires that so often burn the woods 
 around, would destroy me.' For then, the next time you 
 came by, on your way to the Zion of the Walterboro circuit, 
 you would feel very sorry for me, and pray among the old 
 ruins of the old homestead, and think of the immortal heroes 
 of the old South Carolina Conference, who often worshipped 
 their Saviour in these now lonely halls. You would remem- 
 
304 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 ber the great Achilles — S. W. Capers, Samnel Dunwody, 
 H. II. Durant, Colin Murchison, H. A. C. Walker, TheophiluH 
 Huggins, P. F. Kistler, and that war-worrf veteran — Henry 
 Bass. But now I am sad of heart, and tired of life." 
 
 Let us return now, my friends, to the venerable oak — 
 standing near the burned hCrpestead, on the south side of 
 Eivers' Bridge, on the Great Saltketeher. That lonely tree 
 seemed to have a sad tale to tell. 1 could almost fancy it 
 thus addressing me : 
 
 " Traveller, who are you now going by ? I have a melan- 
 choly history." 
 
 I hope, my friends, some of you will enjoy this picture — 
 that of the venerable tree telling its tale of woe to the 
 Roving Preacher. It now, after several mournful sighs, 
 seems thus to speak : 
 
 " It was long before these present United States were 
 formed, and in the early days of the colonies, that I was but 
 a very small twig — only a few feet high. But many large 
 trees were around me, with their lofty heads towering hea- 
 venwards. Something within me told me, that as they are 
 now, so would I be, in the distant future. I believed the 
 thought, and my heart was glad. The rains fell, and the 
 sun shone, and the summer's heat and the winter's cold 
 came, and I grew rapidly. All was a mighty forest around 
 me then. 
 
 " Many years passed by, and then, one bright Spring day, 
 the first of the frontier men came along ; and he put up a 
 little tent not far off. Still, old Time rushed by rapidly, and 
 more of the advance men came, and the sound of the axe, 
 and the report of the rifle, roused the silent echoes of the 
 woods. And still the years flew by ; when one day, the un- 
 expected news of General Braddock's defeat spread through 
 the land. I was a young tree then, with a bright future be- 
 fore me — large enough for the sturdy hauter to fasten his 
 horse to one of my lower limbs, as he listened to the distant 
 cry of the hounds, and waited much excited for the coming 
 of the antlered monarch of the forest. 
 
 " Years still flew by swiftly ; and now, when the glorious 
 days of '76 were come, I was a young prince of the woods, 
 
305 
 
 glorying in my strength. The sporting squirrel had raised 
 more than one family in his nest amid my branches ; and 
 the monarch eagle had many a time soared along in wide 
 circles over my proud head. I was happy then ; I exulted 
 in my might. The 'savage panther had often startled the 
 midnight hours with his child-like cry, as he roamed through 
 the forest around ; and he more than once, in the hot sum- 
 mer's day, had sprung down upon the passing deer, from his 
 hiding-place among my thick green leaves. I grew fast in 
 strength then, and defied the raging winds as they swept 
 along. 
 
 " And now, the immortal days of the Eevolution were 
 come ; and the land rang with the report of the Declaration 
 of Independence ; and the bloody struggle went on; and the 
 war-cry almost reached the blue heavens ; and old Time still 
 rushed by. And now, a small bridle path went by near me, 
 and the Whigs from above were hastening down to Savan- 
 nah — for the war-loving French had come to our help, and 
 we expected soon to take the city ; and more than one 
 straggler from his legion was hastening on to his place in the 
 ranks, under the heroic Pulaski ; and some of the passers-by 
 reposed for a while beneath my ample shade ; and the brave 
 soldiers wept as they thought of their loved ones far away. 
 
 " One night, the moon was shining beautifully, and silence 
 reigned all around, when I heard the sound of the coming 
 horsemen, who slowly and sadly rode up, and they stayed 
 near by till the coming day. And now, I heard them tell of 
 the fight, and the defeat at Savannah of the noble Polander, 
 who fell, fighting bravely to the last ; and how the hero of 
 Fort Moultrie, the g^lant Jasper, even in death, saved the 
 flag he loved so well. Before they left, they resolved, that 
 after they went home, and stayed with the dear ones there 
 a while, they would join other leaders — Sumter, Marion, or 
 Pickens, and still fight on for the green graves of their 
 fathers and their native land. 
 
 " The years still rolled by, and the victory was ours, at 
 Eutaw Springs ; and at last, Cornwallis had surrendered to 
 Washington at Yorktown, and the land had rest from the 
 strife which had lasted so long. 
 
306 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 " I still lived on, prosperous and great. Old Time flew 
 by still on rapid wintr, and several settlers came, and fields 
 were opened up around, and houses were built, and one 
 erected very near me. The merry voices of children rang 
 around, and I was pleased and glad for the change which 
 had come. 
 
 '' By this time, the bridle path had become a broad high- 
 way. One da}^, early in the morning, the young farmer 
 came with his sharp axe in his hand, to cut me down. He 
 said that I checked the growth of the green corn near by, 
 with my ample shade. I trembled much now, for I thought 
 my time had come. I was very fond of life then. He 
 paused, and looked up, and said aloud, ' My father often 
 sported here, and was happy under this tree. I will not 
 cut it down ; and I will tell my children, that when I am 
 gone they must spare the old oak.' He then left me ; and I 
 was glad that I had escaped. 
 
 " Traveller, let me tell you of the happiest day in all my 
 past life. It was one bright, warm evening in October. 
 The sun was nearly down ; the birds were singing in my 
 branches, and the squirrel was eating the corn he had taken 
 from the field near by. A young man now rode up, weep- 
 ing with bowed head — his bridle lying loose on his horse's 
 neck, his hands hanging by his side. He was repeating 
 aloud, 
 
 * Come, humble sinner, in whose breast 
 A thousand thoughts revolve ; 
 Come, with your guilt and fear opprest. 
 And make this last resolve.' 
 
 " I had never seen such a sight — I Mlid never heard these 
 words before — I was all attention. He dismounted, and fas- 
 tened his horse to one of my lower limbs. He said that he 
 had gone to the camp-meeting which broke up that morning 
 at Broxton's Bridge, a very wicked youth — had behaved 
 badly after he got there — that he more than once made 
 sport of the services — that on Sunday he heard the presid- 
 ing-elder^ the Eev. H. A. C. Walker, preach a very impressive 
 sermon, from the words, ' How long halt ye between two 
 opinions ? ' — that he was deeply convicted of his sins — that 
 
307 
 
 he felt awful — that at night he went with the mourners to 
 the altar for prayer — that among them was the young Cap- 
 tain, A. B. Stephens, who was at last among others happily 
 converted — that he went back to his seat more distressed 
 than ever. He said, that he was then returning to his 
 home on Jackson's Branch — that he was afraid his day of 
 grace was gone, and his sins never would be pardoned. He 
 now fell down on his knees, crying and saying, 
 
 * I can but perish if I go, 
 I am resolved to try ; 
 For if I'stay away, T know, 
 I shall forever die.' 
 
 ^' I now heard voice of persons unseen sjDeaking above me. 
 One said, ' Let us stop here awliile in our rapid flight, for 
 this mourning soul is near salvation ; ' and another voice re- 
 plied, 'AYe will wait, for he will soon be converted; and then 
 we will carry the glad news to heaven, and tel! his mother 
 and sister that the still much-loved one on earth is saved, 
 and the prodigal has come back to his Heavenly Father.' I 
 listened iiow more intently than ever, and was so glad that 
 the birds were listening too, and the winds were silent also. 
 He still prayed on, and struggled in his agone, and cried out 
 aloud, and begged the Saviour to have mercy upon him, and 
 he said, ' I will pray for pardon till I die.' The sun had gone 
 down now, and the evening star was shining. JS'ow he 
 sprang to his feet, and said, ' O ! I have found my Saviour ! 
 I have got the blessing! I am so happy! ' And he clapped 
 his hands and shouted, till the woods rang around. I now 
 heard a voice overhead saying, ' Let us carry the glad news 
 to heaven : the dead is alive, the lost is found.' He then 
 looked up, and said, ' O ! that my dear mother and sister 
 were here to rejoice with me.' He then mounted, and rode 
 off, saying, 
 
 ' Nothing but sin had I to give, 
 
 Nothing but love have I received ; 
 Now will I tell to sinners round, 
 What a dear Saviour I have found.' 
 
308 STRAY LEAVES. 
 
 *' This was the happiest day of all my life. But a sad 
 change has come over me since. My much-loved old State 
 is ruined now. Many of the noble youths are sleeping in 
 their soldier graves in distant lands. The old house near 
 me was burned down ; the merry voice of childhood I no 
 longer hear ; my loved friends are all gone — I hope to a bet- 
 ter world than this. I am sick at heart, and tired of life. 
 Every time the thunders roll and the lightnings flasli near 
 me, I say to myself, * O ! that my death was come.' 
 
 " Farewell ! Eoving Preacher of the gospel. I hope, if 
 you ever pass by here again, you will find me prostrate on 
 my mother earth. I have heard that you Methodist minis- 
 ters love to pray at thq twilight hour. I beg you, when you 
 "bow your knees in private this evening, to ask the great 
 Eternal to hasten my overthrow ; for I long for my des- 
 truction." 
 
 Let me here say, my friends, that the writer of the 
 " Stray Leaves" feels very sorry for the old homestead near 
 Nimmons' Mill, on the Bamberg circuit, and also for the 
 venerable and melancholy old oak that stands near Eivers 
 Bridge, on the Great Saltketcher. My friends, excuse these 
 mournful thoughts in which I have been so long indulging. 
 
 On Saturday, I arrived at the St. Peter's Church. I had 
 not been there for many years. I expected to find a waiting 
 congregation, but only two persons were present — my much- 
 respected friend, Henry Solomons, and his little son. Even 
 the Grains of the old Black Swamp circuit was so situated 
 that he could not come, though I spent some pleasant hours 
 at his house that evening — Major W. Gr. Eoberts. All the 
 dear friends of the happy years gone by seemed glad to see 
 me. I had the pleasure once more of meeting the Honorable 
 Edward Martin, still, I hope, on his way to the happy land 
 far away. I rejoiced and praised the Lord together with that 
 whole-souled man — Brother E. Davis. While with him, " or 
 ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Am- 
 minadab." I enjoyed myself very much with those Christian 
 gentlemen — Dr. S. Smith and F. Maner. Sister Joseph Maner 
 Lawton, I found living in what had been a servant's house, 
 near where her noble mansion once stood. But, though her 
 
THE OLD CAMP GKOUND. ^*^11 
 
 surroundings were so very different from what they had 
 been, she was still the same gentle, heavenly-minded lady, 
 worthy of her more than Eoman husband at rest in the 
 home of the pious departed. I enjoyed myself much here in 
 the Lord, my strength, and my salvation. 
 
 The site of the old Black Swamp camp-ground was so 
 changed, that I did not recognize it, until it was pointed out 
 to me. Though almost forgotten by many on earth, heaven 
 and hell still remember that famous battle-ground for the 
 immortal powers. How sad the thought, that many who 
 once heard the gospel preached there, are now lost forever. 
 But let us praise the Lord for the hope, that many others, 
 who were converted there, are now praising G-od in endless 
 day, and singing the song of Moses and the Lamb forever. 
 
 Farewell ! loved friends of the immortal Black Swamp cir- 
 cuit. May your future be much brighter in this life than 
 your present is ! and when life's pilgrimage is over, and the 
 Jordan of death is crossed, may you rest forever in the green 
 fields of Eden on the other side of the flood. 
 
r 
 
 LEAF THE FORTY-FIP^Tir. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION yV.ND FAREWELL. 
 
 Preachers and people, saints and sinners, are often much 
 troubled on account of the times. But, my friends, I suspect 
 we have not confessed our sins to the Lord as we should 
 have done — for, w^ho of us have not sinned against Heaven, 
 who of us have reformed and repented as we should have 
 done — as much as we must do, before the Lord of Hosts will 
 '' cause his face to shine upon us, that we may be saved." 
 Are not many of us, ^\\\o profess to love the Lord, more cold 
 and dead in religion than we used to be in the olden times ? 
 The writer of these " Stray Leaves" pleads guilty, and en- 
 trea^ts his Christian friends to pray for him, that he may 
 mend his ways, and do much better in the future. 
 
 The great trials through which we have "had to pass, in- 
 stead of humbling us more, and '• bringing us nearer to the 
 Lord, have, alas ! driven some of us farther from him. Many 
 of us look too often at the dark side of the cloud ; and some 
 of us, I fear, almost doubt an overruling Providence. Some, 
 who, years ago, loved the Lord, and were very valiant for 
 the truth, have gone back entirely to the world ; or, if they 
 remain in the church, they are dead perhaps in trespasses 
 and sins. Others have hung their harps on the willows, and 
 refuse to sing the Lord's songs. Others have rent their 
 robes, but not their hearts, before the Holy One of Israel ; 
 and they mourn over the sad times, still expecting them to 
 be worse. 
 
 Now, I think we are doing very w^rong. TVe should re- 
 pent of our sins sincerely, and humble ourselves in the dust 
 before God ; and see if he will open the windows of heaven 
 for us, and pour out a blessing " that there shall not be room 
 enough to receive." 
 
 My friends, if you will only receive these '' Stray Leaves" 
 a« kindly as you have ever done their author, he will feel 
 tiat they have been treated much better than they deserve, 
 
"here we rest." 311 
 
 and will be grateful, and will pray for the blessing of heaven, 
 that maketh rich for both worlds, to rest upon you all. 
 
 Let us, friends, in these very troublous times, submit our- 
 Belv'es resignedly into the Hands of our Heavenly Father — 
 knowing full well that he ever knows what is right, and 
 does what is best, for us all. Let us not, for a moment, 
 think that we are utterly forgotten of the Lord, and that in 
 anger he has forever shut out his tender mercies from us. 
 Let us not, for a moment, think that the holy angels have 
 ceased their ministrations to the heirs of salvation in the 
 South; but, let us fondly hope that they pitch their tents 
 around us as often now as ever. Let us not always look at 
 the dark side of the cloud ; but let us try by faith to see the 
 bright side of every stormy cloud that may gather over us 
 at any time. Let us never despair of finding forgiveness for 
 our many sins, if we will only repent in dust and ashes 
 before the Holy One of Israel, and seek him with all our 
 hearts. 
 
 And now to you, my many personal friends in the diifer- 
 ent branches of the one true church of the ever blessed 
 Saviour, who have so often welcomed me to your hearts 
 and your homes, I respectfully bid farewell! We have often 
 enjoyed ourselves much together in this vale'!of tears ; may 
 we, when done with the sorrows of earth, meet to part no 
 more in the happy land far away. 
 
 '^ And if our fellowship below. 
 In Jesus be so sweet, 
 What heights of rapture shall we know, 
 When round his throne we meet ! " 
 
 FINIS. 
 
\ 
 
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY UBRARIES 
 
 0038118017 
 
 938.6 
 
 B417 
 
 I ^ 
 
 CALL NUMBER 
 
 
 938.6 
 B417 
 
 
 VOL. 
 
 
 YEAR 
 
 
 COPY 
 
 
 AUTHOR 
 
 Bellinrrer 
 
 TITLE 
 
 Stray leaves from the port- 
 
 o 
 
 
 BRimE DO NOT - 
 PHOTOCOPY * 
 
 00 ^ 
 0> CD 
 
 30 
 
 JUL 2 3 1954 
 

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