Eggleston_The_Circuit_Rider.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER I.
THE CORN-SHUCKING.
SUBTRACTION is the hardest '' ciphering " in the
book. Fifty or sixty years off the date at the
head of your letter is easy enough to the " organ of
number," but a severe strain on the imagination. It
is hard to go back to the good old days your grand-
mother talks about that golden age when people were
not roasted alive in a sleeping coach, but gently tipped
. over a toppling cliff by a drunken stage-driver.
Grand old times were those in which boys politely
took off their hats to preacher or schoolmaster, sol-
acing their fresh young hearts afterward by making
mouths at the back of his great-coat. Blessed days !
In which* parsons wore stiff, white stocks, and walked
with starched dignity, and yet were not too good to
drink peach-brandy and. cherry - bounce with folks;
when Congressmen were so honorable that they scorn-
ed bribes, and were only kept from killing one anoth-
er by the exertions of the sergeant-at-arms. It was in
10 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
those old times of the beginning of the reign of Mad-
ison, that the people of the Hissawachee settlement, in
Southern Ohio, prepared to attend "the corn-shuckin'
down at Cap'n Lumsden's."
There is a peculiar freshness about the entertain-
ment that opens the gayeties of the season. The
shucking at Lumsden's had the advantage of being
set off by a dim back-ground of other shuckings, and
quiltings, and wood-choppings, and apple-peelings that
were to follow, to say nothing of the frolics pure and
simple parties alloyed with no utilitarian purposes.
Lumsden's corn lay ready for husking, in a whitey-
brown ridge five or six feet high. The Captain was
not insensible to considerations of economy. He
knew quite well that it would be cheaper in the long
run to have it husked by his own farm hands ; the
expense of an entertainment in whiskey and other
needful provisions, and the wasteful handling of the
corn, not to mention the obligation to send a hand
to other huskings, more than counter-balanced the
gratuitous labor. But who can resist the public senti- ,
ment that requires a man to be a gentleman accord-
ing to the standard of his neighbors? Capt;^in Lums-
den had the reputation of doing many things which
were oppressive, and unjust, but to have " shucked" his
own corn would have been to forfeit his respectability
entirely. It would have placed him on the Pariah
level of the contemptible Connecticut Yankee who
had bought a place farther up the creek, and who
dared to husk his own corn, practise certain forbidden
economies, and even take pay for such trifles as but-
\
THE CORN-SHUCKING- \\
ter, and eggs, and the surplus veal of a calf which he
had killed. The propriety of " ducking" this Yankee
had- been a matter of serious debate. A man " as
tight as the bark on a beech tree," and a Yankee be-
sides, was next door to a horse-thief.
So there was a corn-shucking at Cap'n Lumsden's.
The "women-folks" turned the festive occasion into
farther use by stretching a quilt on the frames, and
having the ladies of the party spend the afternoon in
quilting and gossiping the younger women blushing
inwardly, and sometimes outwardly, with hope and
fear, as the names of certain young men were mention-
ed. _ Who could tell what disclosures the evening frolic
might produce 1 For, though " circumstances alter
cases," they have no power to change human nature ;
and the natural history of the delightful creature
which we call a young, woman was essentially the same
in the Hissawachee Bottom, sixty odd years ago, that
it is on Murray or Beacon Street Hill in these mod-
em times. Difference enough of manner and costume
linsey-woolsey, with a rare calico now and then fo~*
Sundays ; the dropping of " kercheys " by polite young
girls but these things are only outward. The dainty
girl that turns away from, my story with disgust, because
"the people are so rough," littl& suspects how entirely
of the cuticle is her refinement how, after all, there
is a^ touch bf nature that makes Polly Ann and Sary
Jane cousins-german to Jennie, and Hattie, and Blanche,
and Mabel.
It was just dark the rising full moon was blazing
like a bonfire among the trees on Campbell's Hill,
12
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
across the creek when the shucking party gathered
rapidly around the
Captain's ridge of
corn. The first com-
ers waited for the
others, and spent the
time looking at the '
heap, and specula-
ting as to how many
bushels it would
" shuck out." Cap-
tain Lumsden, an
active, eager man,
under the medium
size, welcomed his
neighbors cordially,
but with certain re-
Captain Lumsden.
serves. That is to say, he spoke with hospitable warmth
to each new comer, but brought his voice up at the last
like a whip - cracker ; there was a something in what
Dr. Rush would call the " vanish " of his enunciation,
which reminded the person addressed that Captain
Lumsden, though he knew how to treat a man with
politeness, as became an old Virginia gentleman, was
not a man whose supremacy was to be questioned for
a moment. He reached out his hand, with a " How-
dy, Bill?" " Howdy, Jeems ? how 's your mother gittin',
eh ?" and " Hello, Bob, I thought you had the shakes
got out at last, did you .?" Under this superficial fa-
miliarity a certain reserve of conscious superiority and
flinty self-will never failed to make itself appreciated.
THE CORN-SHUCKING 13
Let US understand ourselves. When we speak of
Captain Lumsden as an old Virginia gentleman, we
speak from his own standpoint. In his native state
' his hereditary rank was low his father was an "up-
start," who, besides lacking any claims to " good
blood," had made money by doubtful means. But
such is the advantage of emigration that among out-
side barbarians the fact of having been bom in " Ole
Virginny " was credential enough. Was not the Old
Dominion the mother of presidents, and of gentle-
men.' And so Captain Lumsden was accustomed to
tap his pantaloons with his raw -hide riding -whip,
while he alluded to his relationships to " the old
families," the Carys, the Archers, the Lees, the Peytons,
and the far-famed William and Evelyn Bird; and he
was especially fond of mentioning his relationship to
that family whose aristocratic surname is spelled
" Enroughty," while it is mysteriously and inexplicably
pronounced "Darby," and to the " Tolivars," whose
name is spelled " Taliaferro." Nothing smacks more
of hereditary nobility than a divorce betwixt spelling
and pronouncing. In all the Captain's strutting talk
there was this shade of truths that he was related to
the old families through his wife. For Captain Lums-
den would have scorned a prima facie lie. But, in his
fertile mind, the truth was ever germinal little acorns
of fact grew to great oaks of fable.
How quickly a crowd gathers ! While I have been
introducing you to Lumsden, the Captain has been
shaking hands in his way, giving a cordial grip, and
then suddenly relaxing, and withdrawing his hand as
14 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
if afraid of compromising dignity, and all the while
calling out, " Ho, Tom ! Howdy, Stevens ? Hello,
Johnson ! is that you ? Did come after all, eh ?"
When once the company was about complete, the
next step was to divide the heap. To do this, judges
were selected, to wit : Mr. Butterfield, a slow-speaking
man, who was believed to know a great deal because
he said little, and looked at things carefully ; and
Jake Sniger, who also had a reputation for knowing
a great deal, because he talked glibly, and was good
at off-hand guessing. Butterfield looked at the corn,
first on one side, and then on the end of the heap.
Then he shook his head in uncertainty, and walked
round to the other end of the pile, squinted one eye,
took sight along the top of the ridge, measured its
base, walked from one end to the other with long strides
as if pacing the distance, and again took bearings
with one eye shut, while the young la-ds stared at
him with awe. Jake Sniger strode away from the
com and took a panoramic view of it, as one who
scorned to examine anything minutely. He pointed to
the left, and remarked to his admirers that he " 'low'd
they was a heap sight, more corn in the left hand
eend of the pile, but it was the long, yaller gourd-seed,
and powerful easy to shuck, while t'other eend wuz
the leetle, flint, hominy com, and had a right smart
sprinklin' of nubbins." He " 'low'd whoever got aholt
of them air nubbins would git sucked in. It was neck-
and-neck twixt this ere and that air, and fer his own
part, he thought the thing mout be nigh about even,
and had orter be divided in the middle of the pile."
THE CORN-SHUCKING. 15
Strange to say, Butterfield, after all his sighting, and
pacing, and measuring, arrived at the same difficult
and complex conclusion, which remarkable coincidence
served to confirm the popular confidence in the infal-
libility of the two judges.
So the ridge of corn was measured, and divided
exactly in the middle. A fence rail, leaning against
either side, marked the boundary between the territo-
ries of the two parties. The next thing to be done
was to select the captains. Lumsden, as a prudent
man, desiring an election to the legislature, declined
to appoint them, laughing his chuckling kind of laugh,
and saying, "Choose for yourselves, boys, choose for
yourselves."
Bill McConkey was on the ground, and there was
no better husker. He wanted to be captain on one
side, but somebody in the crowd objected that there
was no one present v/ho could "hold a taller dip to
Bill's shuckin."
"Whar's Mort Goodwin?" demanded Bill; "he's
the one they say kin lick me. I 'd like to lay him out
wunst."
" He ain't yer."
" That air 's him a comin' through the cornstalks,
I 'low," said Jake Sniger, as a tall, wellrbuilt young
man came striding hurriedly through the stripped corn
stalks, put two hands on the eight-rail fence, and
cleared it at a bound.
" That's him ! that's his jump," said " little Kike," a
nephew of Captain Lumsden. " Could n't many fellers
do that eight-rail fence so clean."
16 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
"Hello, Mort!" they all cried at once as he came
up taking off his wide - rimmed straw hat and wiping
his forehead. " We thought you wuz n't a comin'.
Here, you and Conkey choose up."
" Let somebody else," said Morton, who was shy,
and ready to give up such a distinction to others.
"Backs out!" said Conkey, sneering.
"Not a bit of it," said Mort. "You don't appre-
ciate kindness ; where 's your stick .'"
By tossing a stick from one to the other, and then
passing the hand of one above that of the other, it
was soon decided that Bill McConkey should have the
first choice of men, and Morton Goodwin the first
choice of corn. The shuckers were thus all divided
into two parts. Captain Lumsden, as host, declining
THE CORN-SHUCKING. 17
to be upon either side. Goodwin chose the end of
the corn which had, as the boys declared, "a desp'-
rate sight of nubbins." Then, at a signal, all hands
went to work.
The corn had to be husked and thrown into a
crib, a mere pen of fence-rails.
"Now, boys, crib your corn," said Captain Lums-
nen, as he started the whiskey bottle on its encourag-
ing travels along the line of shuckers.
."Hurrah, boys!" shouted McConkey. "Pull away,
my sweats! work like dogs in a meat-pot; beat 'em
all to thunder, er bust a biler, by jimminy ! Peel 'em
off! Thunder and blazes ! Hurrah !"
This loud hallooing may have cheered his own
men, but it certainly stimulated those on the other
side. Morton was more prudent; he husked with all
his might, and called down the lines in an under-
tone, " Let them holler, boys, never mind Bill ; all the
breath he spends in noise we '11 spend in gittin' the
com peeled. Here, you ! don't you shove that com
back in the shucks! No cheats allowed on this side!"
Goodwin had taken his place in the middle of his
own men, where he could overlook them and "husk,
without intermission, himself; knowing that his own
dexterity was worth almost as much as the work of
two men. When one or two boys on his side began
to run over to see how the others were getting along,
he ordered them back with great firmness. " Let them
alone," he said, " you are only losing time ; work hard
at first, everybody will work hard at the last.''
For nearly an hour the buskers had been stripping
18 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
husks with unremitting eagerness; the heap of un-
shucked corn had grown smaller, the crib was nearly
full of the white and yellow ears, and a great billow
of light husks had arisen behind the eager workers. .
"Why don't you drink?" asked Jake Sniger, who
sat next to Morton.
" Want 's to keep his breath sweet for Patty Lums-
den," said Ben, North, with a chuckle.
Morton did not knock Ben over, and Ben never
knew how near he came to getting a whipping.
It was now the last heavy pull of the shuckefs.
McConkey had drunk rather freely, and his "Pull
away,, sweats !" became louder than ever. Morton found
it necessary to run up and down his line once or
twice, and hearten his men by telling them that they
were " sure to beat if they only stuck to it well."
The two parties were pretty . evenly matched; the
side led by Goodwin would have given it up once if
it had not been for his cheers; the others were so
near to victory that they began to shout in advance,
and that cheer, before they were through, lost them the
battle, for Goodwin, calling to his men, fell to work
in a way that set them wild by contagion, and for
the last minute they made almost superhuman exer-
tions, sending a perfect hail of white corn- into the
crib, and licking up the last ear in time to rush with
a shout into the territory of the other party, and seize
on one or two dozen ears, all that were left, to show
that Morton had clearly gained the victory. Then
there was a general wiping of foreheads, and a gener-
al expression of good feeling. But Bill McConkey
THE FROLIC. ]9
vowed that he " knowed what the other side done with
their corn," pointing to the husk pile.
" I '11 bet you six bits," said Morton, " that I can
find more corn in your shucks than you kin in mine."
But Bill did not accept the wager.
After husking the com that remained under the
rails, the whole party adjourned to the house, waTshing
their hands and faces in the woodshed as they passed
into the old hybrid building, half log-cabin, the other
half block-house fortification.
The quilting frames were gone; and a substantial
supper was set in the apartment which was commonly
used for parlor and sitting room, and which was now
pressed into service for a dining room. The ladies
stood around against the wall with a self-conscious
air of modesty, debating, no doubt, the eifect of their
linsey-woolsey dresses. For what is the use of carding
and spinning, winding and weaving, cutting and sewing
to get a new linsey dress, if you cannot have it ad-
mired ?
CHATTER II.
THE FROLIC.
THE supper was soon dispatched; the huskers eat-
ing with awkward embarrassment, as frontiermen
always do in company, even in the company of each
other. To eat . with decency and composure is the
final triumph of civilization, and the shuckers of Hissa-
wachee Bottom got through with the disagreeable per-
formance as hurriedly as possible, the more -so that
their exciting strife bad given them vigorous relish for
Mrs. Lumsden's "chicken fixin's," and batter-cakes,
and "punkin-pies." The quilters had taken their
supper an hour before, the table not affording room
for both parties. When supper was over the " things"
were quickly put away, the table folded up and re-
moved to the kitchen and the company were then
ready to enjoy themselves. There was much gawky
timidity on the part of the young men, and not a lit-
tle shy dropping of the eyes on the part of the young
women ; but the most courageous presently got some of
the rude, country plays a-going. The pawns were sold
over the head of the blindfold Mort Goodwin, who, as
the wit of the company, devised all manner of penal-
ties for the owners. Susan Tomkins had to stand up'
in the corner, and say,
" Here I stand all ragged and dirty,
Kiss me quick, or I 'II run like a turkey."
THE FROLIC. 21
These lines were supposed to rhyme. When Aleck
Tilley essayed to comply with her request, she tried to
run like a turkey, but was stopped in time.
The good taste of people who enjoy society novels
will decide at once that these boisterous, unrefined
sports are not a promising beginning. It is easy
jsnough to imagine heroism, generosity and courage in
people who dance on velvet carpets; bat the great
heroes, the world's demigods, grew in just such rough
social states as that of Ohio in the early part of this
century. There is nothing more important for an
over-refined generation' than to understand that it has
not a monopoly of the great qualities of humanity,
and that it must not only tolerate rude folk, but
sometimes admire in them traits that have grown
scarce as refinement has increased. So that I may
not shrink from telling that one kissing -play took
the place of another until the excitement and merri-
ment reached a pitch which would be thought not
consonant with propriety by the society that loves
round -dances with rouis, and "the German" untrans-
lated though, for that matter, there are people old-
fashioned enough to think that refined deviltry is not
much better than rude freedom, after all.
Goodwin entered with the hearty animal spirits of
his time of life into the boisterous sport; but there
was one drawback to his pleasure Patty Lumsden
would not play. He was glad, indeed, that she did
not; he could not bear to see her kissed by his com-
panions. But, then, did Patty like the part he was
taking in the rustic revel.? He inly rejoiced that his
22 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
position as the blindfold Justice, meeting out punish-
ment to the owner of each forfeit, saved him, to some
extent, the necessity of going through the ordeal of
kissing. True, it was quite possible that the severest
prescription he should make might fall on his own
head, if the pawn happened to be his; but he was
saved by his good luck and the penetration which en-
abled him to guess, from the suppressed chuckle of the
seller, when the offered pawn was his own.
At last, " forfeits " in every shape became too dull
for the growing mirth of the company. They ranged
themselves round the room on benches and chairs,
and began to sing the old song:
" Oats, peas, beans, and barley grow
Oats, peas, beans, and barley grow
You nor I, but the farmers, know
Where oats, peas, beans, and barley grow.
" Thus the farmer sows his seed.
Thus he stands and takes his ease.
Stamps his foot, and claps his hands,
And whirls around and views his lands.
" Sure as grass grows in the field,
Down on this carpet you must kneel.
Salute your true love, kiss her sweet,
And rise again upon your feet."
It is not very different from the little children's
play an old rustic sport, I doubt not, that has existed
in England from immemorial time. 'McConkey took
the handkerchief first, and, while the company were
singing, he pretended to be looking around and puz-
zling himself to decide whom he would favor with his
THE FROLIC 28
affection. But the girls nudged one another, and look-
ed significantly at Jemima Huddlestone. Of course,
everybody knew that Bill would take Jemima. That
was fore-ordained. Everybody knew it except Bill and
Jemima ! ' Bill fancied that he was standing in entire
indecision, and Jemima radiant peony! turned her
large, red -cheeked face away from Bill, and studied
meditatively a knot in a floor-board. But her averted
gaze only made her expectancy the more visible, and
the significant titter of the company deepened the hue
and widened the area of red in her cheeks. Attempts,
to seem unconscious generally result disastrously. But
the tittering, and nudging, and looking toward Jemima,
did not prevent the singing from moving on ; and now
the singers have reached the line which prescribes the
kneeling.' Bill shakes off his feigned indecision, and
with a sudden effort recovers from his vacant amd
wandering stare, wheels about, spreads the "handker-
cher " at the feet of the backwoods "Hebe, and diffi-
dently kneels upon the outer edge, while she, in com-
pliance with the order of the play, and with reluctance
only apparent, also drops upon her knees on the hand-
kerchief, and, with downcast eyes, receives upon her
red cheek a kiss so hearty and unreserved that* it
awakens laughter and applause. Bill now arises with
the air of a man who has done his whole duty under
difficult circumstances. Jemima lifts the handkerchief,
and, while the song repeats itself, selects some gentle-
man before whom she kneels, bestowing on him a kiss
in the same fashion, leaving him the handkerchief to
spread before some new divinity.
24
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
This alternation had gone on for some time. Poor,
sanguine, homely
Samantha Britton
had looked smiling-
ly and expectantly
at each successive
gentleman who bore
the handkerchief ;
but in vain. "S'man-
thy " could never
understand why her
seductive smiles
were so unavailing.
Presently, Betty
Harsha was chosen
by somebody Bet-
ty, had a pretty,
round face, and pink cheeks, and was sure to be
chosen, sooner or later. Everybody knew whom she
would choose. Morton Goodwin was the desire of
her heart. She dressed to win him ; she fixed her
eyes on him in church ; she put herself adroitly in
his way ; she compelled him to escort her home
against his will; and now that she held the hand-
kerchief, everybody looked at Goodwin. Morton, for
his part, was too young to be insensible to the
charms of the little round, impulsive face, the twink-
ling eyes, the red, pouting lips ; and he was not averse
to having the pretty girl, in her new, bright, linsey
frock, single him out for her admiration. But just
at this moment he wished she might choose some
HOMFXY S'MANTHY.
THE FROLIC.
25
one else. For Patty Lumsden, now that all her guests
were interested in the play, was relieved from her
cares as hostess, and was watching the progress of the
exciting amuse-
ment. She stood
behind Jemima
Huddleston, and
never was there
finer contrast
than between the
large, healthful,
high-colored Je-
mima, a typical
country belle, and
the slight, intelli
gent, fair-skinned
Patty, whose
black hair and
Patty and Jemima.
eyes made her complexion seem whiter, and whose
resolute lips and proud carriage heightened the refine-
ment of her face. Patty, as folks said, " favored " her
mother, a woman of considerable pride and much re-
finement, who, by her unwillingness to accept the rude
customs of the neighborhood, had about as bad a rep-
utation as one can have in a frontier community. She
was regarded as excessively "stuck up." This stigma
of aristocracy was very pleasing to the Captain. His
family was part of himself, and he liked to believe
them better than anybody's else. But he heartily
wished that Patty would sacrifice her dignity, at this
juncture, to further his political aspirations.
26 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Seeing the vision of Patty standing there in her
bright new calico an extraordinary bit of finery in
those days Goodwin wished that Betty would attack
somebody else, for once. But Betty Harsha bore
down on the perplexed Morton, and, in her eagerness,
did not wait for the appropriate line to come she did
not give the farmer time to " stomp " his foot, and
clap his hands, much less to whirl around and view
his lands but plumped down upon the handkerchief
before Morton, who took his own time to kneel. But
draw it out as he would, he presently found himself,
after having been kissed by Betty, standing foolishly,
handkerchief in hand, while the verses intended for
Betty were not yet finished. Betty's precipitancy,
and her inevitable gravitation toward Morton, had set
all the players laughing, and the laugh seemed to
Goodwin to be partly at himself. For, indeed, he was
perplexed. To choose any other woman for his " true
love" even in play, with Patty standing by, was more
than he could do ; to offer to kneel before her was
more than hg dared to do. He hesitated a moment;
he feared to offend Patty; he must select some one.
Just at the instant he caught sight of the eager face
of S'manthy Britton stretched up to him, as it. had
been to the others, with an anxious smile. Morton
saw a way out. Patty could not be jealous of S'man-
thy. He spread the handkerchief before the delighted
girl, and a moment later she held in her hand the
right to choose a partner.
The fop of the party was " Little Gabe," that is to
say, Gabriel Powers, junior. His father was " Old
THE FROLIC. 27
Gabe," the most miserly farmer of the neighborhood.
But Little Gabe had run away in b.oyhood, and had
been over the mountains, had made some money, no-
body could tell how, and had invested his entire cap-
ital in "store clothes." He wore a mustache, too, which,
being an unheard-of innovation in those primitive times,
marked him as a man who had seen the world. Every-
body laughed at him for a fop, and yet everybody ad-
mired him. None of the girls had yet dared to select
Little Gabe. To bring their linsey near to store-cloth
to venture to salute his divine mustache who could
be guilty of such profanity ? But S' manthy was mor-
ally certain that she would not soon again have a
chance to select a " true love," and she determined to
strike high. The players did not laugh when she
spread her handkerchief at the feet of Little Gabe.
They were appalled. But Gabe dropped on one knee,
condescended to receive her salute, and lifted the
handkerchief wfth a delicate flourish of the hand
which wore a ring with a large jewel, avouched by
Little Gabe to be a diamond a jewel that was at
least transparent.
Whom would Little Gabe choose ? became at once
a question of solemn import to every young woman
of the company ; for even girls in linsey are not free
from that liking for a fop, so often seen in ladies
better dressed. In her heart nearly every young woman
wished that Gabe would choose herself. But Gabe
was one of those men who, having done many things
by the magic of effrontery, imagine that any thing can
be obtained by impudence, if only the impudence be
28
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
sufficiently transcendent. He knew that Miss Lums-
den held herself . aloof from the kissirig-plays, and he
knew Equally that she looked favorably on Morton
Goodwin ; he had divined Morton's struggle, and he
had already tnarked out his own line of action. He
stood in quiet repose while the first .two stanzas were
sung. As. the third began, he stepped, quickly round
the chair on which Jemima Huddleston sat, and stood
before Patty Lumsden, while everybody held breath.
Patty's cheeks did not grow red, but pale, she turned
suddenly and called out toward the kitchen:
_^_.^_ " What do you want ?
A\. .," C5s -- I am coming," and then
walked quietly out, as
if unconscious of Little".
Gabe's presence or pur-
pose. But poor Little
Little Gabe's Discomfiture.
Gabe had already begun to kneel; he had gone too fai
THE FROLIC. 29
to recover himself; he dropped upon one knee, and got
up immediately, but not in time to escape the general
chorus of laughter and jeers. He sneered at the de-
parting figure of Patty, and said, " I knew I could
make her run." But he could not conceal his discom-
fiture.
When, at last, the party broke up, Morton essayed
to have a word with Patty. He found her standing
in the deserted kitchen, and his heart beat quick with
the thought that she might be waiting for him. The
ruddy glow of the hickory coals in the wide fire-place
made the logs of the kitchen walls bright, and gave
a tint to Patty's white face. But just as Morton was
about to speak. Captain Lumsden's 'quick, jerky tread
sounded in the entry, and he came in, laughing his
aggravating metallic little laugh, and saying, " Mor-
ton, where 's your manners ? There 's nobody to go
home with Betty Harsha."
" Dog on Betty Harsha!" muttered Morton, but not
loud enough for the Captain to hear. And he escorted
Betty home.
CHAPTER III.
GOING TO MEETING.
EVERY history has one quality in common with
eternity. Begin where you will, there is always a
beginning back of the beginning. And, for that mat-
ter, there is always a shadowy ending beyond the end-
ing. Only because we may not always begin, like
Knickerbocker, at the foundation of the world, is it
that we get courage to break somewhere into the in-
terlaced web of Iftiman histories of loves and mar-
riages, of births and deaths, of hopes and fears, of
successes and disappointments, of gettings and havings,
and spendings and losings. Yet, break in where we
may, there is always just a little behind the beginning,
something that needs to be told.
I find it necessary that the reader should under-
stand how from childhood Morton had rather worship-
ed than loved Patty Lumsden. When the long spell-
ing-class, at the close of school, counted off its num-
bers, to enable each scholar to reijiember his relative
standing, Patty was always "one," and Morton "two."
On one memorable occasion, when the all but infalli-
ble Patty misspelled a word, the all but infallible
Morton, disliking to " turn her down," missed also, and
went down with her. When she afterward regained
her place, he took pains to stand always "next to
head." Bulwer calls first love a great " purifier of
GOING TO MEETING. 31
youth," and, despite his fondness for hunting, horse-
racing, gaming, and the other wild excitements that
were prevalent among the young men of that day,
Morton was kept from worse vices by his devotion to
Patty, and by a certain ingrained manliness.
Had he worshiped her less, he might long since
have proposed to her, and thus have ended his sus-
pense ; but he had an awful sense, of Patty's nobility
and of his own unworthiness. Moreover, there was a
lion in the way. Morton trembled before the face of
Captain Lumsden.
Lumsden was one of the earliest settlers, and was
by far the largest land -owner in the settlement. In
that day of long credit, he had managed to place him-
self in such a way that he could make his power felt,
directly or indirectly, by nearly every man within
twenty miles of him. The very judges on the bench
were in* debt to him. On those rare occasions when
he had been opposed. Captain Lumsden had struck so
ruthlessly, and with such regardlessness of means or
consequences, that he had become a terror to every-
body. Two or three families had been compelled
to leave the settlement by his vindictive persecutions,
so that his name had come to carry a sort of royal
authority. Morton Goodwin's, father was but a small
farmer on the hill, a man naturally unthrifty, who had
lost the greater part of a considerable patrimony.
How could Morton, therefore, make direct advances to
so proud a girl as Patty, with the chances in favor of
refusal by her, and the certainty of rejection by her
father? Illusion is not the dreadfulest thing, but dis-
32 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
illusion Morton preferred to cherish his hopeless
hope, living in vain expectation of some improbable
change that should place him at better' advantage in
his addresses to Patty.
At first, Lumsden had left him in no uncertainty in
regard to his own disposition in the matter. He had
frowned upon Goodwin's advances by treating him
with that sort of repellant patronage which is so ag-
gravating, because it affords one no good excuse for
knocking down the author of the insult. But of late,
having observed the growing force and independence
of Morton's character, and his ascendancy over the
men of his own age, the Captain appreciated the ne-
cessity of attaching such a person to himself, particu-
larly for the election which was to take place in the
autumn. Not that he had any intention of suffering
Patty to marry Morton. He only meant to play fast
and loose a while. Had he even intended to give his
approval to the marriage at last, he would have played
fast and loose all the same, for the sake of making
Patty and her lover feel his power as long as possible.
At present, he meant to hold out just enough of hope
to bind the ardent young man to his interest. Mor-
ton, on his part, reasoned that if Lumsden's kindness
should continue to increase in the future as it had
in the three weeks past, it would become even cor-
dial, after a while. To young men in love, all good
things are progressive.
On the Sunday morning following the shucking,
Morton rose early, and went to the stable. Did you
ever have the happiness to see a quiet autumn Sun-
GOING TO MEETING. 33
day in the backwoods ? Did you ever observe the
stillness, the solitude, the softness of sunshine, the gen-
tleness of wind, the chip-chip-chlurr-r-r of great flocks
of blackbirds getting, ready for migration, the lazy
cawing of crows, softened by distance, the half-laugh-
ing bark of cunning squirrel, nibbling his prism-shaped
beech-nut, and twinkling his jolly, child-like eye at
you the while, as if to say, "Don't you wish you
might guess?"
Not that Morton saw aught of these things. He
never heard voices, or saw sights, out of the common,
and that very October Sunday had been set apart for
a horse-race down at "The Forks." The one piece
of property which our young friend had acquired dur-
ing his minority was a thorough -bred fiUey, and he
felt certain that she being a horse of the first fami-
lies would be able to " lay out " anything that could
be brought against her. He was very anxious about
the race, and therefore rose early, and went out into
the morning light that he might look at his mare, and
feel of her perfect legs, to make sure that she was in
good condition.
" All right, Dolly .?" he said " all right this morn-
ing, old lady.' eh.? You'll beat all the scrubs; won't
you ?"
In this exhilarating state of anxiety and expec-
tation, Morton came to breakfast, only to have his
breath taken away. His mother asked him to ride to
meeting with her, and it was almost as hard to "deny
her as it was to give up the race at "The Forks."
Rough associations had made young Goodwin a
34 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
rough man. His was a nature buoyant, generous, and
complaisant, very likely to take the color of his sur-
roundings. The catalogue of his bad habits is suffi-
ciently shocking to us who live in this better day of
Sunday-school morality. He often swore in a way
that might have edified the army in Flanders. He
spent his Sundays in hunting, fishing, and riding horse-
races, except when he was needed to escort his moth-
er to meeting. He bet on cards, and I am afraid he
drank to intoxication sometimes. Though he was too
proud and manly to lie, and too pure to be unchaste,
he was not a promising young man. The chances
that he would make a fairly successful trip through
life did not preponderate over the chances that he
would wreck himself by intemperance and gambling.
But his roughness was strangely veined by noble-
ness. This rude, rollicking, swearing young fellow
had a chivalrous loyalty to his mother, which held
him always ready to devote himself in any way to her
service.
On her part, she was, indeed, a woman worthy of
reverence. Her father had been one of those fine old
Irish gentlemen, with grand manners, extravagant hab-
its, generous impulses, brilliant wit, a ruddy nose, and
final bankruptcy. His daughter, Jane Morton, had
married Job Goodwin, a returned soldier of the Revo-
lution a man who was "a poor manager." He lost
his patrimony, and, what is worse, lost heart. Upon
his wife, therefore, had devolved heavy burdens. But
her face was yet fresh, and her hair, even when an-
chored back to a great tuck-comb, showed an errant,
GOING TO MEETING. 35
Irish tendency to curl. Morton's hung in waves about
his neck, and he cherished his curls, proud of the re-
semblance to his mother, whom he considered a very
queen, to be served right royally.
But it was hard when he had been training the
fiUey from a colt when he had looked forward for
months to this race as a time of triumph to have so
severe a strain put upon his devotion to his mother.
When she made the request, he did not reply. He
went to the barn and stroked the Alley's legs how
perfect they were! and gave vent to some very old
and wicked oaths. He was just making up his mind
to throw the saddle on Dolly and be off to the Forks,
when his decision was curiously turned by a word from
his brot^jer Henry, a lad of twelve, who had followed
Morton to the. stable, and now stood in the door.
" Mort," said he, " I'd go anyhow, if I was you.
I wouldn't stand it. You go and run Doll, and lick
Bill Conkey's bay fer him. He'll think you're afeard,
ef you don't. The old lady hain't got no right to
make you set and listen to o],d Donaldsftn on sech a
purty day as this."
"Looky here. Hen!" broke out Morton, looking up
from the meditative scratching of Dolly's fetlocks,
"don't you talk that away about mother. She's every
inch a lady, and it's a blamed hard life she's had to
foller, between pappy's mopin' and the girls all a-dyin'
and Lew's bad end and you and me not promisin'
much better. It's mighty little I kin do to make
things kind of easy for her, and I'll go to meetin' ev-
ery day in the week, ef she says so."
36
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
In the Stable.
"She'll make a Persbyterian outen you, Mort; see
ef she don't."
" Nary Presbyterian.^ They's no Presbyterian in
me. I'm a hard nut. I would like to be a elder, or
a minister, if it was in me, though, just to see the
smile spread all over her face whenever she'd think
about it. Looky here. Hen! I'll tell you something.
Mother's about forty times too good for us. When I
had the scarlet fever, and was cross, she used to set
on the side of the bed, and tell me stories, about
knights and such like, that she'd read about in grand-
father's books when she was a girl jam up good
stories, too, you better believe. I liked the knights.
GOING TO MEETING. 37
because they rode fine horses, and was always ready
to fight anything that come along, but always fair and
square, you know. And she told me how the knights
fit fer their religion, and fer ladies, and fer everybody
that had got tromped down by somebody else. I
wished I'd -been a knight myself. I 'lowed it would be
some to fight for somebody in trouble, or soinethin'
good. But then it seemed as if I couldn't find noth-
in' worth the fightin' fer. One day I lay a-thinkin',
and a-lookin' at mother's white lady hands, and face
fit fer a queen's. And in them days she let her hajr
hang down in long curls, and her black eyes was
bright like as if they had a light inside of 'em, you
know. She was a queen, / tell you ! And all at wunst
it come right acrost me, like a flash, that I mout as
well be mother's knight through thick and thin; and
I've been at it ever since. I 'low I've give her a
sight of trouble, with my plaguey wild ways, and I
come mighty blamed nigh runnin' this mornin', dogged
ef I didn't. But here goes."
And with that he proceeded to saddle the restless
Dolly, while Henry put the side-saddle on old Blaze,
saying, as he drew the surcingle tight, " For my part,
I don't want to fight for nobody. I want to do as I
dog-on please." He was meditating the fun he would
have catching a certain ground-hog, when once his
mother should be safely off to meeting.
Morton led old Blaze up to the stile and helped
his mother to mount, gallantly put her foot in the stir-
rup, arranged her long riding-skirt, and then mounted
his own mare. Dolly sprang forward prancing and
38 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
dashing, and chafing against the bit in a way highly-
pleasing to Morton, who thought that going to meet-
ing would be a dull affair, if it were not for the fun of
letting Dolly know who was her master. The ride
to church was a long one, for there had never been
preaching nearer to the Hissawachee settlement than
ten miles away. Morton found the sermon rather
more interesting than usual. There still lingered iii
the West at this time the remdns of the controversy
between "Old -side" and "New -side" Presbyterians,
that dated its origin before the Revolution. Parson
Donaldson belonged to the Old side. With square,
combative face, and hard, combative voice, he made
war upon the laxity of New -side Presbyterians, and
the grievous heresies of the Arminians, and in partic-
ular Upon the exciting meetings of the Methodists.
The great Cane Ridge Camp-meeting was yet fresh in
the memories of the people, and for the hundredth
time Mr. Donaldson inveighed against the Presbyte-
rian ministers who had originated this first of camp-
meetings, and set agoing the wild esfcitements now
fostered by the Methodists. He said that Presbyte-
rians who had anything to do with this fanaticism
were led astray of the devil, and the Synod did right
in driving some of them out. As for Methodists, they
denied "the Decrees." What was that but a denial
of salvation by grace ? And this involved the over-
throw of the great Protestant doctrine of Justification
by Faith. This is -rather the mental process by which
the parson landed himself at his conclusions, than his
way of stating them to his hearers. In preaching, he
GOING TO MEETING. 39
did not find it necessary to say that a denial of the
decrees logically involved the rest. He translated his
conclusions into a statement of fact, and boldly assert-
ed that these crazy, illiterate, noisy, vagabond circuit
riders were traitors to Protestantism, denying the doc-
trine of Justification, and teaching salvation by the
merit of works. There were many divines, on both
sides, in that day who thought zeal for their creed jus-
tified any amount of unfairness. (But all that is past !)
Morton's combativeness was greatly tickled by this
discourse, and when they were again in the saddle to
ride the ten miles home, he assured his mother that
he wouldn't mind coming to meeting often, rain or
shine, if the preacher would only pitch into 'somebody
every time. He thought it wouldn't be hard to be
good, if a body could only have something bad to
fight. " Don't you remember, mother, how you used
to read to me out of that old " Pilgrim's Progress,"
and show me the picture of Christian thrashing Apollyon
till Jiis hide wouldn't hold shucks.? If I could fight
the devil that way, I wouldn't mind being a Christian."
Morton felt especially pleased with the minister to- ,
day, for Mr. Donaldson delighted to have the young
men come so far to meeting ; and imagining that he
might be in a " hopeful state of mind," had hospitably
urged Morton and his mother to take some refresh-
ment before starting on their homeward journey. It
is barely possible that the stimulus of the good par-
son's cherry -bounce had quite as much to do with
Morton's valiant impulses as the stirring effect of his
discourse.
CHAPTER IV.
A BATTLE.
T
HE fight so much desired by Morton came soon
enough.
As he and his mother rode home by a "near cut,"
little traveled, Morton found time to master Dolly's
fiery spirit and yet to scan the woods with the habit-
ual searching glance of a hunter. He observed on
one of the trees a notice posted. A notice put up in
this out-of-the-way place surprised him. He endeav-
ored to make his restless steed approach the tree, that
he might read, but her wild Arabian temper took fright
at something a blooded horse is apt to see visions
and she would not sta.nd near the tree. Time after
time Morton drove her forward, but she as often shied
away. At last, Mrs. Goodwin begged him to give over
the attempt and come on ; but Morton's \o-ve of mas-
tery was^now excited, and he said,
" Ride on, mother, if you want to ; this question be-
tween Dolly and me will have to be discussed and
settled right here. Either she will stand still by this
sugar-tree, or we will fight away till one or t'other lays
down to rest."
The mother contented herself with letting old Blaze
browse by the road-side, and with shaping her thoughts
into a formal regret that Morton should spend the
holy Sabbath in such fashion ; but in her maternal
A BATTLE. 41
heart she admired his will and courage. He was so
like her own father, she thought such a gentleman!
And she could not but hope that he was one of God's
elect. If so, what a fine Christian he would be when
he should be converted ! And, quiet as she was with-
out, her heart was in a moment filled with agony and
prayer and questionings. How could she live in heav-
en without Morton ? Her eldest son had already died
a violent death in prodigal wanderings from home.
But Morton would surely be saved !
Morton, for his part, cared at the moment far less
for anything in heaven than he did to master the re-
bellious Dolly. He rode her all round the tree ; he
circled that maple, first in one direction, then in an-
other, until the mare was so dizzy she could hardly
see. Then he held her while he read "the notice, say-
ing with exultation, " Now, my lady, do you think you
can stand still.?"
Beyond a momentary impulse of idle curiosity^. Mor-
ton Jiad not cared to know the contents of the paper.
Even curiosity had been forgotten in his combat with
Dolly. But as soon as he saw the signature, " Enoch
Lumsden, administrator of the estate of Hezekiah
Lumsden, deceased," he forgot his victory over his
horse in his interest in the document itself. It was
therein set forth that, by order of the probate court in
and for the county aforesaid, the said Enoch Lums-
den, administrator, would sell at public auction all that
parcel of land belonging to the estate of the said
Hezekiah Lumsden, deceased, known and described as
follows, to wit, namely, etc., etc.
42 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
"By thunder!" broke out Morton, angrily, as he rode
away (I am afraid he swore by thunder instead of by
something else, out of a filial regard .for his mother).
" By thunder ! if that ain't too devilish mean ! I
s'pose 'tain't enough for Captain Lumsden to mistreat
little Kike he has gone to robbing him. He means
to buy that land himself; or, what's the same thing,
git somebody to do it for him. That's what he put
that notice in this holler fer. The judge is afraid of
him; and so's everybody else. Poor Kike won't have
a dollar when he's a man."
" Somebody ought to take Kike's part," said Mrs.
Goodwin. " It's a shame for a whole settlement to be
cowards, and to let one man rule them. It's worse
than having a king."
Morton lov5d "Little Kike," and hated Captain
Lumsden; and this appeal to the anti-monarchic feel-
ing of the time moved him. He could not bear that
his mother, of all, should think him cowardly. His
pride was already chafed by Lumsden's condescension,
and his provoking way of keeping Patty and himself
apart. Why should he not break with him, and have
done with it, rather than stand by and see Kike rob-
bed ? But to interfere in behalf of Kike was to put
Patty Lumsden farther away from him. He was a
knight who had suddenly come in sight of his long-
sought adversary while his own hands were tied. And
so he fell into the brownest of studies, and scarcely
spoke a word to his mother all the rest of his ride.
For here were his friendship for little Kike, his in-
nate antagonism to Captain Lumsden, and his strong
A BATTLE 43
sense of justice, on one side; his love for Patty
stronger than all the rest on the other. In the stories
of chivalry whiph his mother had told, the love of
woman had always been a motive to valiant deeds for
the right. And how often had he dreamed of doing
some brave thing while Patty applauded ! Now, when
the brave thing offered, Patty was on the other side.
This unexpected entanglement of motives irritated him,
as such embarrassment always does a person disposed
to act impulsively and in right lines. And so it hap-
pened that he rode on in taoody silence, while the
mother, always looking for signs of seriousness in the
son, mentally reviewed the sermon of the day, in vain
endeavor to recall some passages that might have
"found a lodgment in his mind:"
Had the issue been squarely presented to Morton,
he might even then have chosen Patty, letting the in-
terests of his friends take care of themselves. But he
did not decide it squarely. He began by excusing
himself to himself: What could he do for Kike? He
had no influence with the judge ; he had no money to
buy the land, and he had no influential friends. He
might agitate the question and sacrifice his own hope,
and, after all, accomplish nothing for Kike. No doubt
all these considerations of futility had their weight
with him; nevertheless he had an angry consciousness
that he was not acting bravely in the matter. That
he, Morton Goodwin, who had often vowed that he
would not truckle to any man, was ready to shut his
eyes to Captain Lumsden's rascality, in the hope of
one day getting his consent to marry his daughter!
44 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
It was this anger with himself that made Morton rest-
'~-A
MoRT, Dolly, and Kike.
less, and his restlessness .took him down to the Forks
that Sunday evening, and led him to drink two or
three times, in spite of his good resolution not to drink
more than once. It was this restlessness that carried
him at last to the cabin of the widow Lumsden, that
evening, to see her son Kike.
Kike was sixteen ; one of those sallow-skinned boys
with straight black hair that one sees so often in south-
ern latitudes. He was called " Little Kike " only to
A BATTLE. 45
distinguish him from his father, who had also borne
the name of Hezekiah. DeUcate in health and quiet
in manner, he was a boy of profound feeling, and his
emotions were not only profound but persistent. Dress-
ed in buck-skin breeches and homespun cotton over-
shirt, he was milking old Molly when Morton came
up. The fixed lines of his half - melancholy face re-
laxed a little, as with a smile deeper than it was broad
he lifted himself up and said,
" Hello, Mort ! come in, old feller ! "
But Mort only sat still on Dolly, while Kike came
round and stroked her fine neck, and expressed his re-
gret that she hadn't run at the Forks and beat Bill
McConkey'^ bay hofse. He wished he owned such " a
beast."
" Never mind ; one of these days, when I get a lit-
tle stronger, I will open that crick bottom, and then I
shall make some money and be able to buy a blooded
horse like Dolly. Maybe it'll be a colt of Dolly's;
who knows.?" And Kike smiled with a half-hopeful-
ness at the vision of his impending prosperity. But
Morton could not smile, nor could he bear to tell
Kike that his uncle had determined to seize upon that
very piece of land regardless of the air -castles Kike
had built upon it. Morton had made up his mind not
to tell Kike. Why should he? Kike would hear of
his uncle's fraud in time, and any mention on his part
would only destroy his own hopes without doing any-
thing for Kike. But if Mortoii meant to be prudent
and keep silence, why had he not staid at home?
Why come here, where the sight of Kike's slender
46 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
frame was a constant provocation to speech ? Was
there a self contending against a self?
" Have you got over your chills yet?" asked Morton.
" No," said the black-haired boy, a little bitterly.
" I was nearly well when I ' went down to Uncle
Enoch's to work ; and he made me work in the rain.
' Come, Kike,' he would say, jerking his words, and
throwing them at me like gravel, 'get out in the rain.
It'll do you good. Your mother has ruined you, keep-
ing you over the fire. You want hardening. Rain is
good for you, water makes you grow ; you're a perfect
baby.' I tell you, he come plaguey nigh puttin' a fin-
ishment to me, though."
Doubtless, what Morton had "drunk at the Forks
had not increased his prudence. As usual in such
cases, the prudent Morton and the impulsive Morton
stood the one over against the other ; and, as always
the imprudent self is prone to spring up without warn-
ing, and take the other by surprise, so now the young
man suddenly threw prudence and Patty behind, and
broke out with
"Your uncle Enoch is a rascal!" adding some male-
dictions for emphasis.
That was not exactly telling what he had resolved
not to tell, but it rendered it much more difficult to
keep the secret ; for Kike grew a little red in the face,
and was silent a minute. He himself was fond of
roundly denouncing his uncle. But abusing one's re-
lations is a luxury which is labeled "strictly private,"
and this savage outburst from his friend touched Kike's
family pride a little.
A BATTLE. 47
"I know that as well as you do," was all he said,
however.
" He would swindle his own children," said Mor-
ton, spurred to greater vehemence by Kike's evident
disrelish of his invective. " He will chisel you out of
everything you've got before you're of age, and then
make the settlement too hot to hold you if you shake
your head." And Morton looked off down the road.
"What's the matter, Mort? What set you off on
Uncle Nuck to-night .? He's bad enough. Lord knows ;
but something must have gone wrong with you. Did
he tell you that he did not want you to talk to Patty?"
" No, he didn't," said Morton. And now that Patty
was recalled to his -mind, he was vexed to think that
he had gone so far in the matter. His tone provoked
Kike in turn.
" Mort, you've been drinking ! What brought you
down here ?"
Here the imprudent Morton got the upper hand
again. Patty and prudence were out of sight at once,
and the young man swore between his teeth.
" Come, old fellow ; there's something wrong,'' said
Kike, alarmed. "What's up?"
"Nothing; nothing," said Morton, bitterly. "Noth-
ing, only your affectionate uncle has stuck a notice in
Jackson's holler on the side of the tree furthest from
the road advertising your crick bottom for sale.
That's all. Old 'Virginia gentleman ! Old Virginia
devil.' Call a horse-thief a parson, will you ?" And
then he added something about hell and damnation.
These two last words had no grammatical relation
48 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
with the rest of his speech ; but in the mind of Mor-
ton Goodwin they had very logical relations with Cap-
tain Lumsden and the subject under discussion. No-
body is quite a Universalist in moments of indigna-
tion. Every man keeps a private and select perdition
for the objects of his wrath.
When Morton had thus let out the secret he had
meant to retain, Kike trembled and grew white about
the lips. "I'll never forgive him," he said, huskily.
" I'll be even with him, and one to carry ; see if I
ain't!" He spoke with that slow, revengeful, relentless
air that belongs to a black-haired, Southern race.
" Mort, loan me Doll to-morry ?" he said, presently.
"Can you ride her.? Where are you going?" Mor-
ton was loth to commit himself by lending his horse.
" I am going to Jonesville, to see if I can stop that
sale; and I've got a right to choose a gardeen. I
mean to take one that will make Uncle Enoch open
his eyes. I'm goin' to take Colonel Wheeler ; he hates
Uncle Enoch, and he'll see jestice done. As for ridin'
Dolly, you know I can back any critter with four legs."
"Well, I guess you can have Dolly," said Morton,
reluctantly. He knew that if Kike rode Dolly, the
Captain would hear of it ; and then, farewell to Patty ! .
But looking at Kike's face, so full of pain and wrath,
he could not quite refuse. Dolly went home at a tre-
mendous pace, and Morton, commonly full of good na-
ture, was, for once, insufferably cross at supper-time.
" Mort, meetin' must 'a' soured on you," said Hen-
ry, provokingly. "You're cross as a coon when its
cornered."
A BATTLE. 49
" Don't fret Morton ; he's worried," said Mrs. Good-
win. The fond mother still hoped that the struggle
in his mind was the great battle of Armageddon that
should be the beginning of a better life.
Morton went t9 his bed in the loft filled with a con-
tempt for himself. He tried in vain to acquit himself
of cowardice the quality which a border man consid-
ers the most criminal. Early in the morning he fed
Dolly, and got her ready for Kike ; but no Kike came.
After a while, he saw some one ascending the hill on
the other side of the creek. Could it be Kike .? Was
he going to walk to Jonesville, twenty miles away.?
And with his ague-shaken body ? How roundly Mor-
ton cursed himself for the fear that made him half re-
fuse the horse ! For, with one so sensitive as Kike, a'
half refusal was equivalent to the most positive denial.
It was not too late. Morton threw the saddle and
bridle on Dolly, and mounted. Dolly sprang forward,
throwing her heels saucily in the air, and in fifteen
minutes Morton rode up alongside Kike.
" Here, Kike, you don't escape that way ! Take
Dolly." /
" No, I won't, Morton. I oughtn't to have axed you
to let me have her. I know how you feel about Patty."
" Confound no, I won't say confound Patty but
confound me, if I'm mean enough to let you walk to
Jonesville. I was a devlish coward yesterday. Here,
take the horse, dog on you, or I'll thrash you," and
Morton laughed.
"I tell you, Mort, I won't do it," said Kike, "I'm
goin' to walk."
50 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
"Yes, you look like it! You'll die before you git
half-way, you blamed little fool you ! If you won't
take Dolly, then I'll go along to bury your bones.
They's no danger of the buzzard's picking such bones,
though."
Just then came by Jake Sniger, who was remarka-
ble for his servility to Lumsden.
" Hejlo, boys, which ways ?" he asked.
" No ways jest now," said Morton.
"Are you a travelin', or only a goin' some place?"
asked Sniger, smiling.
" I 'low I'm travelin', and Kike's a goin' some place,"
said Morton.
When Sniger had gone on, Morton said, " Now
Kike, the fat's all in the fire. When the Captain finds
out what you've done, Sniger is sure to tell that he
see us together. I've got to fight it out now anyhow,
and you've got to take Dolly."
"No, Morton, I can't."
If Kike had been any less obstinate the weakness
of his knees would have persuaded him to relent.
" Well, hold Dolly a minute for me, anyhow," said
Morton, dismounting. As soon as Kike had obligingly
taken hold of the bridle, Morton started toward home,
singing Burns's " Highland Mary " at the top of his
rich, melodious voice, never looking back at Kike till
he had finished the song, and reached the summit of
the hill. Then he had the satisfaction of seeing Kike
in the saddle, laughing to think how his friend had
outwitted him. Morton waved his hat heartily, and
Kike, nodding his head, gave Dolly the rein, and she
A BATTLE.
51
plunged forward, carrying him out of sight in a few min-
utes. Morton's mother was disappointed, when he came
in late to breakfast, to see that his brow was clear. She
feared that the good impressions of the day before had
worn away. How little does one know of the real na-
GOOU-BYE ! ,
ture of the struggle between God and the devil, in the
heart of another ! But long before Kike had brought
Dolly back to her stall, the exhilaration of self-sacrifice
in the mind of Morton had worn away, and the possi-
ble consequences of his action made him uncomfortable.
CHAPTER V.
A CRISIS.
WORK, Morton could not. After his noonday din-
ner he lifted his flint-lock gun from the forked
sticks upon the wall where it was laid, and set out to
seek for deer, rather to seek forgetfulness of the anx-
iety that preyed upon him. Excitement was almost a
necessity with him, even at ordinary times ; now, it
seemed the only remedy for his depression. But in-
stead of forgetting Patty, he forgot everything^ but
Patty, and for the first time in his life he found it
impossible to absorb himself in hunting. For when a
frontierman loves, he loves with his whole nature.
The interests of his life are few, and love, having un-
disputed sway, becomes a consuming passion. After
two hours' walking through the unbroken forest he
started a deer, but did not see it in time to shoot.
He had tramped through the brush without caution or
vigilance. He now saw that it would be of no avail
to keep up this mockery of hunting. He was seized
with an eager desire to see Patty, and talk with her
once more before the door should be closed against
him. He might strike the trail, and reach the settle-
ment in an hour, arriving at Lumsden's while yet the
Captain was away from the house. His only chance
was to see her in the p,bsence of her father, who would
surely contrive some interruption if he were present.
A CJilSIS. 53
So eagerly did Morton travel, that when his return
was about half accondplished he ran headlong into the
very midst of a flock of wild turkeys. They ran
swiftly away in two or three directions, but not until
the two barrels of Morton's gun had brought down
two glossy young gobblers. Tying their legs together
with a strip of paw -paw bark, he slung them across
his gun, and laid his gun over his shoulder, pleased
that he would not have to go home quite empty-
handed.
As he steps into Captain Lumsden's yard that Au-
tumn afternoon, he is such a man as one likes to see :
quite six feet high, well made, broad, but not too
broad, about the shoulders, with legs whose litheness
indicate the reserve force of muscle and nerve coiled
away somewhere for an emergency. His walk is di-
rect, elastic, unflagging; he is like his horse, a clean
stepper ; there is neither slouchiness, timidity, nor craft-
iness in his gait. The legs are as much a test of
character as the face, and in both one can read reso-
lute eagerness. His forehead is high rather than
broad, his blue eye and curly hair, and a certain sweet-
ness and dignity in his smile, are from his Scotch-
Irish mother. His picturesque coon-skin cap gives him
the look of a hunter. The homespun " hunting shirt "
hangs outside his buckskin breeches, and these termi-
nate below inside his rawhide boots.
The great yellow dog, Watch, knows him well
enough by this time, but, like a policeman on duty,
Watch is quite unwilling to seem to neglect his func-
tion; and so he bristles up a little, meets Morton at
54 THE C/RCUIT RIDER.
the gate, and snuffs at his cowhide boots with an air
of surly vigilance. The young man hails him with a
friendly " Hello, Watch ! " and the old fellow smooths
his back hair a little, and gives his clumsy bobbed
tail three solemn little wags of recognition, comical
enough if Goodwin were only in a mood to observe.
Morton hears the hum of the spinning-wheel in the
old cabin portion of the building, used for a kitchen
and loom-room. The monotonous rise and fall of the
wheel's tune, now buzzing gently, then louder and
louder till its whirr could be heard a furlong, then
slacking, then stopping abruptly, then rising to a new
climax this cadenced hum, as he hears it, is made
rhythmical by the tread of feet that run back across
the room after each climax of sound. He knows the
quick, elastic step ; he turns away from the straight-
ahead entrance to the house, and passes round to the
kitchen door. It is Patty, as he thought, and, as his
shadow falls in at the door, she is in the very act of
urging the wheel to it highest impetus; she whirls it
till it roars, and at the same time nods merrily at
Morton over the top of it ; then she trips back across
the room, drawing the yarn with her left hand, which
she holds stretched out ; when the impulse is some-
what spent, and the yarn sufficiently twisted, Patty
catches the wheel, winds the yarn upon the spindle,
and turns to the door. She changes her spinning stick
to the left hand, and extends her right with a genial
" Howdy, Morton ? killed some turkeys, I see."
" Yes, one for you and one for mother."
" For me ? much obliged! come in and take a chair."
A CJilSIS. 55
"No, this'll do," and Morton sat upon the door-
sill, doffing his coon-skin cap, and wiping his forehead
with his red handkerchief. " Go on with your spinning,
Patty, I like to see you spin."
" Well, I will. I mean to spin two dozen cuts to-
day. I've been at it since five o'clock."
Morton was glad, indeed, to have her spin. He
was, in his present perplexed state, willing to avoid all
conversation except such broken talk as might be car-
ried on while Patty wound the spun yarn upon the
spindle, or adjusted a new roll of wool.
Nothing shows off the grace of the female figure
as did the old spinning-wheel. Patty's perfect form
was disfigured by no stays, or pads, or paniers her
swift tread backwards with her up-raised left hand, her
movement of the wheel with the right, all kept her
agile figure in lithe action. If plastic art were not an
impossibility to us Americans, our stone-cutters might
long since have ceased, like school-boys, to send us
back from Rome imitation Venuses, and counterfeit
Hebes, and lank Lincolns aping Roman senators, and
stagey Washingtons on stage-horses; they would by
this time have found out that in our primitive life
there are subjects enough, and that in mythology and
heroics we must ever be dead copyists. But I do not
believe Morton was thinking of art at all, as he sat
there in the October evening sun and watched the little
feet, yet full of unexhausted energy after traveling to
and fro all day. He did not know, or care, that Patty,
with her head thrown back and her left arm half out-
stretched to guide her thread, was a glorious subject
56 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
for a statue. He had never seen marble, and had
never heard of statues except in the talk of the old
schoolmaster. How should he think to call her statu-
esque.? Or how should he know that the wide old
log-kitchen, with its loom in one corner, its vast fire-
place, wherein sit the two huge, black andirons, and
wherein swings an iron crane on which hang pot-
hooks with iron pots depending the old kitchen, with
its bark -covered joists high overhead, from which are
festooned strings of drying pumpkins how should
Morton Goodwin know that this wide old kitchen,
with its rare centre-piece of a fine -featured, fresh-
hearted young girl straining every nerve to spin two
dozen cuts of yarn in a day, would make a genre
piece, the subject of which would be good enough for
one of the old Dutch masters ? He could not know
all this, but he did know, as he watched the feet
treading swiftly and rhythmically back and forth, and
as he saw the fine face, ruddy with the vigorous exer-
cise, looking at him over the top of a whirling wheel
whose spokes were invisible he did know that Patty
Lumsden was a little higher than angels, and he shud-
dered when he remembered that to-morrow, and indefi-
nitely afterward, he might be shut out from her fa-
ther's house.
It was while he sat thus and listened to Patty's
broken patches of sprightly talk and the monotonous
symphony of her wheel, that Captain Lumsden came
into the yard, snapping his rawhide whip against his
boots, and walking, in his 'eager, jerky fashion, around
to the kitchen door.
A CRISIS. 57
"Hello, Morton! here, eh? Been hunting? This
don't pay. A young man that is going to get on in
the world oughtn't to set here in the sunshine talking
to the girls. Leave that for nights and Sundays. I'm
afeard you won't get on if you don't work early and
late. Eh?" And the captain chuckled his hard little
laugh.
Morton felt all the pleasure of the glorious after-
noon vanish, as he rose to go. He laid the turkey
destined for Patty inside the door, took up the other,
and was about to leave. Meantime the captain had
lifted the white gourd at the well-curb, to satisfy his
thirst.
"I saw Kike just now," he said, in a fragmentary
way, between his sips of water and Morton felt his
face color at the first mention of Kike. " I saw Kike
crossing the creek on your mare. You oughtn't to let
him ride her ; she'll break his fool neck yet. Here
comes Kike himself. I wonder where he's been to?"
Morton saw, in the fixed look of Kike's eyes, as he
opened the gate, evidence of deep passion ; but Cap-
tain Enoch Lumsden was not looking for anything re-
markable about Kike, and he was accustomed to treat "
him with peculiar indignity because he was a relative.
"Hello, Kike!" he said, as his nephew approached,
while Watch faithfully sniffed at his heels, " where 've
you been cavorting on that fiUey to-day ? I told Mort
he was a fool to let a snipe like you ride that she-
devil. She'll break your blamed neck some day, and
then there'll be one fool less." And the captain
chuckled triumphantly at the wit in his way of putting
58 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
the thing. " Don't kick the dog ! What an ill-natured
ground-hog you air! If I had the training of you, I'd
take some of that out."
" You haven't got the training of me, and you nev-
er will have."
Kike's face was livid, and his voice almost in-
audible.
" Come, come, don't be impudent, young man,"
chuckled Captain Lumsden.
"I don't know what you call impudence," said
Kike, stretching his slender frame up to its full height,
and shaking as if he had an ague-chill ; " but you are
a tyrant and a scoundrel !"
" Tut ! tut ! Kike, you're crazy, you little brute.
What's up .?"
" You know what's up. You want to cheat me out
of that bottom land ; you have got it advertised on
the back side of a tree in North's holler, without con-
sulting mother or me. I have been over to Jonesville
to-day, and picked out Colonel Wheeler to act as my
gardeen."
"Colonel Wheeler.? Why, that's an insult to me!"
And the captain ceased to laugh, and grew red.
" I hope it is. I couldn't get the judge to take
back the order for the sale of the land ; he's afeard of
you. But now let me tell you something, Enoch
Lumsden ! If you sell my land by that order of the
court, you'll lose more'n you'll make. I ain't afeard
of the devil nor none of his angels ; and I recken
you're one of the blackest. It'll cost you more burnt
barns and dead hosses and cows and hogs and sheep
J C/f/S/S.
59
than what you make will pay for. You cheated pap-
py, but you shan't make nothin' out of Little Kike.
I'll turn Ingin, and take Ingin law onto you, you old
thief and "
Here Captain Lumsden stepped forward and raised
The Altercation.
his cowhide. " I'll teach you some manners, you im-
pudent little brat!"
Kike quivered all over, but did not move hand or
foot. " Hit me if you dare, Enoch Lumsden, and
they'll be blood betwixt us then. You hit me wunst,
and they'll be one less Lumsden alive in a year. You
or me'U have to go to the bone-yard."
60 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Patty had stopped her wheel, had forgotten all
about her two -dozen a day, and stood frightened in
the door, near Morton. Morton advanced and took
hold of Kike.
" Come, Kike ! Kike ! don't be so wrothy," said he.
" Keep hands offen me, Mort Goodwin," said Kike,
shaking loose. "I've got an account to settle, and ef
he tetches a thread of my coat with a cowhide, it'll be
a bad day fer both on us. We'll settle with blood
then."
"It's no use for you to interfere, Mort," snarled
the captain. " I know well enough who put Kike up
to this. I'll settle with both of you, some day."
Then, with an oath, the captain went into the house,
while the two young men moved away down the road,
Morton not daring to look at Patty.
What Morton dreaded most had come upon him.
As for Kike, when once they were out of sight of
Lumsden's, the reaction on his feeble frame was terri-
ble. He sat down on a log and cried with grief and
anger.
" The worst of it is, I've ruined your chances,
Mort," said he.
And Morton did not reply.
CHAPTER VI.
THE FALL HUNT.
MORTON led Kike home in silence, and then re-
turned to his father's house, deposited his turkey
outside the door, and sat down on a broken chair by
the fire-place. His father, a hypochondriac, hard of
hearing, and slow of thought and motion, looked at
him steadily a moment, and then said:
" Sick, Mort ? Goin' to have a chill .'"
"No, sir."
" You look powerful dauncy," said the old man, as
he stuffed his pipe full of leaf tobacco which he had
chafed in his hand, and sat down on the other side of
the fire-place. "I feel a kind of all-overishness my-
self. I 'low we'll have the fever in the bottoms" this
year. Hey?"
"I don't know, sir."
" What .?"
"I said I didn't know." Morton found it hard to
answer his father with decency. The old man said
" Oh," when he understood Morton's last reply ; and
perceiving that his son was averse to talking, he de-
voted himself to his pipe, and to a cheerful revery on
the awful consequences that might result if " the fever,"
which was rumored to have broken out at Chilicothe,
should spread to the Hissawachee bottom. Mrs. Good-
win took Morton's moodiness to be a fresh evidence
62 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
of the working of the Divine Spirit in his heart, and
she began to hope more than ever that he might
prove to be one of the elect. Indeed, she thought it
quite probable that a boy so good to his mother would
be. one of the precious few ; for though -she knew that
the election was unconditional, and of grace, she could
not help feeling that there was an antecedent proba-
bility of Morton's being chosen. She went quietly and
cheerfully to her work, spreading the thin corn -meal
dough on the clean hoe used in that day instead of a
griddle, for baking the "hoe-cake," and putting the
hoe in its place before the fire, setting the sassafras
tea to draw, skimming the milk, and arranging the
plates white, with blue edges and the yellow cups
and saucers on the table, and all the while praying
that Morton might be found one of those chosen be-
fore the foundation of the world to be sanctified and
saved to the glory of God.
The revery of Mr. Goodwin about the possible
breaking out of the fever, and the meditation of his
wife about the hopeful state of her son, and the pain-
ful reflections of Morton about the disastrous break
with Captain Lumsden all three set agoing primarily
by one cause were all three simultaneously interrupt-
ed by the appearance of the younger son, Henry, at
the door, with a turkey.
"Where did you get that.?" asked his mother.
"Captain Lumsden, or Patty, sent it."
" Captain Lumsden, eh V said the father. " Well,
the captain's feeling clever, I 'low."
" He sent it to Mort by little black Bob, and said
THE FALL HUNT. 63
it was with Miss Patty's somethin' or otYi^tcoupk-
ments, Bob called 'em."
"Compliments, eh?" and the father looked at Mor-
ton, smiling. "Well, you're gettin' on there mighty
fast, Mort; but how did Patty come to send a tur-
key?" The mother looked anxiously at her son, see-
ing he did not evince any pleasure at so singular a
present from Patty. Morton was obliged to explain
the state of affairs between himself and the captain,
which he did in as few words as possible. Of course,
he knew that the use of Patty's name in returning the
turkey was a ruse of Lumsden's, to give him addition-
al pain.
"It's bad," said the father, as he iilled his pipe
again, after supper. " Quarreled with Lumsden ! He'll
drive us off. We'll all take the fever " for every evil
that Job Goodwin thought of immediately became in-
evitable, in his imagination "we'll all take the fever,
and have to make a new settlement in winter time."
Saying this, Goodwin took his pipe out of his mouth,
rested his elbow on his knee, and his head on his
hand, diligently exerting his imagination to make real
and vivid the worst possible events conceivable from
this new and improved stand-point of despair.
But the wise mother set herself to planning ; and
when eight o'clock had come, and Job Goodwin had
forgotten the fever, having fallen into a doze in his
shuck -bottom chair, Mrs. Goodwin told Morton that
the best thing for him and Kike would be to get out
of the settlement until the captain should have time
to cool off.
64
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
" Kike ought to be got away before he does any-
thing desperate. We want some meat for winter; and
though it's a little early yet, you'd better start off with
Kike in the morning," she said.
Always fond of hunting, anxious now to drown
pain and forebodings in some excitement, Morton did
not need a second suggestion from his mother. He
feared bad results from Kike's temper ; and though he
had little hope of any relenting on Lumsden's part, he
had an eager desire to forget his trouble in a chase
after bears and deer. He seized his cap, saddled and
mounted Dolly, and started at once to the house of
Kike's mother. Soon after Morton went, his father
woke up, and, finding his son gone out, complained,
as he got ready for bed, that the boy would " ketch the
fever, certain, runnin' 'round that away at night."
Morton found Kike
in a state of exhaus-
tion pale, angry, and
sick. Mr. Brady, the
Irish school - master,
from whom the boys
had received most of
their education and
many a sound whip-
ping, was doing his
best to divert Kike
from his revengeful
mood. It is a singu-
lar fact in the history
of the West, that so
The Irish School-master.
THE FALL HUNT. 65
large a proportion of the first school-masters were Irish-
men of uncertain history.
" Ha ! Moirton, is it you ?" said Brady. " I'm
roight glad to see ye.. Here's this b'y says hay'd a
shot his own uncle as shore as hay'd a toiched him
with his roidin'-fwhip. An' I've been a-axin ov him
fwoi hay hain't blowed out me brains a dozen times,
sayin' oive lathered him with baich switches. I didn't
guiss fwat a saltpayter kag hay wuz, sure. Else I'd a
had him sarched for foire-arms before iver I'd a ven-
ter'd to inform him which end of the alphabet was
the bayginnin'. Hay moight a busted me impty pate
for tellin' him that A wusn't B."
It was impossible for Morton to keep from smiling
at the good old fellow's banter. Brady was bent on
mollifying Kike, who was one of his brightest and
'most troublesome pupils, standing next to Patty and
Morton in scholarship though much younger.
Kike's mother, a shrewd but illiterate woman, was
much troubled to see him in so dangerous a passion.
"I wish he was leetle-er, ur bigger," she said.
" An' fwoi air ye afther wishing that same, me dair
madam?" asked the Irishman.
"Bekase," said the widow, "ef he was leetle-er, I
could whip it outen him ; ef he was bigger, he wouldn't
be sich a fool. Boys is allers powerful troublesome
when they're kinder 'twixt and 'tween nary man nor
boy. They air boys, but they feel so much bigger'n
they used to be, that they think theirselves men, and
talk about shootin', and all sich like. Deliver me from
a boy jest a leetle tod big to be laid acrost your lap,
66 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
and larnt what's what. Tho', ef I do say it, Kike's
been a oncommon good sort of boy to me mostly, on'y
he's got a oncommon lot of red pepper into him, like
his pappy afore him, and he's ^ one of them you can't
turn. An', as for Enoch Lumsden, I would be glad ef
he wuz shot, on'y I don't want no little fool like Kike
to go to fightin' a man like Nuck Lumsden. Nobody
but God A'mighty kin ever do jestice to his case ; an'
it's a blessed comfort to me that I'll meet him at the
Jedgment-day. Nothin' does my heart so much good,
like, as to think what a bill Nuck '11 have to settle
then, and how he can't browbeat the Jedge, nor shake
a mortgage in his face. It's the on'y rale nice thing
about the Day of Jedgment, akordin' to my thinkin'.
I mean to call his attention to some things then. lie
won't say much about his wife's belongin' to fust fam-
ilies thar, I 'low."
Brady laughed long and loud at this sally of Mrs.
Hezekiah Lumsden's ; and even Kike smiled a little,
partly at his mother's way of putting things, and part-
ly from the contagion of Brady's merry disposition.
Morton now proposed Mrs. Goodwin's plan, that he
and Kike should leave early in the morning, on the
fall hunt. Kike felt the first dignity of manhood on
him ; he knew that, after his high tragic stand with his
uncle, he ought to stay, and fight it out ; but then the
opportunity to go on a long hunt with Morton was a
rare one, and killing a bear would be almost as pleas-
ant to his boyish ambition as shooting his uncle.
"I don't want to run away from him. He'll think
I've backed out," he said, hesitatingly.
THE FALL -HUNT.
67
" Now, I'll tell ye fwat," said Brady, winking ; " you
put out and git some bear's ile for your noice black
hair. If the cap'n makes so bowld as to sell ye out
of house and home, and crick bottom, fwoile ye're
gone, it's yerself as can do the burnin' afther ye git
back. The barn's noo, and 'tain't quoit saysoned yit.
It'll burn a dale better fwen ye're ray-turned, me lad.
An', as for the shootin' part, practice on the bears fust !
'Twould be a pity to miss foire on the captain, and
him ye're own dair uncle, ye know. He'll keep till ye
come back. If I say anybody a goin' to 'crack him
owver, I'll jist spake a good .word for ye, an' till him
as the captin's own affictionate niphew has got the
fust pop at him, by roight of bayin' blood kin, sure."
Kike could not help smiling grimly at this presen-
tation of the matter ; and while he hesitated, his moth-
er said he should go. She'd bundle him off in- the
early morning. And long before daylight, the two
boys, neither of whom had slept during the night, start-
ed, with guns on their shoulders, and ivith the vener-
erable Blaze for a pack-horse. Dolly was a giddy
young thing, that could not be trusted in business so
grave.
CHAPTER VJI.
TREEING A PREACHER.
HAD I but bethought myself in time to call this
history by one of those gentle titles now in vogue,
as " The Wild Hunters of the Far West," or even by one
of the labels with which juvenile and Sunday-school
literature -milk for babes is now made attractive, as,
for instance, " Kike, the Young Bear Hunter." I might
here have entertained the reader with a vigorous descrip-
tion of the death of Bruin, fierce and fat, at the hands
of the triumphant Kike, and of the exciting chase after
deer under the direction of Morton.
After two weeks of such varying success as hunters
have, they found that it would be necessary to forego the
discomforts of camp^-life for a day, and visit the nearest
settlement in order to replenish their stock of ammuni-
tion. Wilkins' store, which was the center of a settle-
ment, was a double log-building. In one end the pro-
prietor kept for sale powder and lead, a few bonnets,
cheap ribbons, and artificial flowers, a small stock of
earthenware, and cheap crockery, a little homespun cot-
ton cloth, some bolts of jeans and linsey, hanks of yarn
and skeins of thread, tobacco for smoking and tobacco
for " chawing," a little " store-tea " so called, in contra-
distinction to the sage, sassafras and crop-vine teas in
general use with a plentiful stock of whisky, and
some apple-brandy. The other end of this building
TREEING A PREACHER. 69
was a- large room, festooned with strings of drying
pumpkin, cheered by an enormous fireplace, and lighted
by one small window with four lights of glass. In this
room, which contained three beds, and in the loft
above, Wilkins and his family lived and kept a. first-
class hotel.
In the early West, Sunday was a day sacred to
Diana and Bacchus. Our young friends visited the
settlement at Wilkins' on that day, not because they
wished to rest, but because they had begun to get
lonely, and they knew that Sunday would not fail to
find some frolic in progress, and in making new
acquaintances, fifty miles from home, they would be
able to relieve the tedium of the wilderness with. games
at cards, and other social enjoyments.
Morton and Kike arrived at Wilkins' combined
store and tavern at ten o'clock in the morning, and
found the expected crowd of loafers. The new-comers
" took a hand " in all the sports, the jumping, the
foot-racing, the qaoit-pitching, the "wras'lin'," the
target-shooting, the poker-playing, and the rest, and
were soon accepted as clever fellows. A frontierman
could bestow no higher praise to be a clever fellow
in his sense was to know how to lose at cards, with-
out grumbling, the peltries hard-earned in hunting, to
be always ready to change your coon-skins into " drinks
for the crowd," and to be able to hit a three-inch
" mark " at two hundred paces without bragging.
Just as the sports had begun to lose their zest a
little, there walked up to the tavern door a man in
homespun dress, carrying one of his shoes in his hand.
70 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
and yet not seeming to be a plain backwoodsman.
Electioneering.
He looked a trifle over thirty years of age, and an
acute observer might have guessed from his face that
his life had been one of daring adventure, and many
vicissitudes. There were traces also of conflicting pur-
poses, of a certain strength, and a certain weakness of
character ; the melancholy history of good intentions
overslaughed by bad passions and evil associations
was written in his countenance.
" Some feller 'lectioneerin', I'll bet," said one of
Morton's companions.
The crowd gathered about the stranger, who spoke
TREEING A PREACHER. 71
to each one as though he had known him always. He
proposed " the drinks " as the surest road to an ac-
quaintance, and when all had drunk, the stranger paid
the score, not in skins but in silver coin.
"See here, stranger," said Morton, mischievously,
"you're mighty clever, by hokey. What are you run-
ning fer.'"
Well, gentlemen, you guessed me out that time. I
'low to run for sheriff next heat," said the stranger,
who affected dialect for the sake of popularity.
"What mouf your name be.?" asked one of the
company.
" Marcus Burchard's my name when I'm at home.
I live at Jenkinsville. I sot out in life a poor boy.
I'm so used to bein' bar'footed that my shoes hurts
my feet an' I have to- pack one of 'em in my hand
most of the time."
Morton here set down his glass, and looking at the
stranger with perfect seriousness said, dryly : " Well,
Mr. Burchard, I never heard that speech so well done
before. We're all goin' to vote for you, without t'other
man happens to do it. up slicker'n you do. I don't
believe he can, though. That was got off very nice."
Burchard was acute enough to join in the laugh
which this sally produced, and to make friends with
Morton, who was clearly the leader of the party, and
whose influence was worth securing.
Nothing grows wearisome so soon as idleness and
play, and as evening drew on, the crowd tired even
of Mr. Burchard's choice collection of funny anec-
dotes little stories that had been aired in the same
72 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
order at every other tavern and store in the county.
From sheer ennui it was proposed that they should
attend Methodist preaching at a house two miles away.
They could at least get some fun out of it. Burchard,
foreseeing a disturbance, excused himself. He wished
he might enjoy the sport, but he must push on. And
" push on " he did. In a closely contested election
even Methodist votes were not to be thrown away.
Morton and Kike relished the expedition. They
had heard that the Methodists were a rude, canting,
illiterate race, cloaking the worst practices under an
appearance of piety. Mr. Donaldson had often ful-
minated against them from the pulpit, and they felt
almost sure that they could count on his apostolic
approval in their laudable enterprise of disturbing a
Methodist meeting.
The preacher whom they heard was of the rough-
est type. His speech was full of dialectic forms and
ungrammatical phrases. His illustrations were exceed-
ingly uncouth. It by no means followed that he was
not an effective preacher. All these defects were rather
to his advantage, the backwoods rhetoric was suited
to move the backwoods audience. But the party from
the tavern were in no mood to be moved by any-
thing. They came for amusement, and set themselves
diligently to seek it. Morton was ambitious to lead
among his new friends, as he did at home, and on
this occasion he made use of his rarest gift. The
preacjier, Mr. Mellen, was just getting "warmed up"
with his theme ; he was beginning to sling his rude
metaphors to the right and left, and the audience was
TREEING A PREACHER. ]Z
fast coming under his influence, when Morton Good-
win, who had cultivated a ventriloquial gift for the
diversion of country^ parties, and the disturbance of
Mr. Brady's school, now began to squeak like a rat
in a trap, looking all the while straight at the preacher,
as if profoundly interested in the discourse. The
women were startled and the grave brethren turned
their austere faces round to look stern reproofs at the
young men. In a moment the squeaking ceased, and
there began the shrill yelping of a little dog, which
seemed to be on the women's side of the room. Brother
Mellen, the preacher, paused, and was about to request
that the dog should be removed, when he began to
suspect from the sensation among the young men that
the disturbance was from them.
" You needn't be afeard, sisters," he said, " puppies
will bark, even when they walk on two legs instid of
four."
This rude joke produced a laugh, but gained no
permanent advantageto the preacher, for Morton, being
a stranger, did not care for the good opinion of the
audience, but for the applause of the young revelers
with whom he had come. He kept silence now, until
the preacher again approached a climax, swinging his
stalwart arms and raising his voice to a tremendous
pitch in the endeavor to make the day of doom seem
sufficiently terrible to his hearers. At last, when he
got to the terror of the wicked, he cried out dra-
matically, "What are these awful sounds I hear.?" At
this point he made a pause, which would have been
very effective, had it not been for young Goodwin.
1i THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
"Caw! caw! caw-aw ! cah!" he said, mimicking a
crow.
" Young man," roared the prejicher, " you are hair-
hung and breeze-shaken over that pit that has no
bottom."
"Oh, golly!" piped the voice of Morton, seeming
to come from nowhere in particular. Mr. Mellen now
ceased preaching, and started toward the part of the
room in which the young men sat, evidently intending
to deal out summary justice to some one. He was
a man of immense strength, and his face indicated
that he meant to eject the whole party. But they all
left in haste except Morton, who staid and met the
preacher's gaze with a look of offended innocence.
Mr. Mellen was perplexed. A disembodied voice
wandering about the room would have been too much
for Hercules himself. When the baffled orator turned
back to begin to preach again, Morton squeaked in
an aggravating falsetto, but with a good imitation of Mr.
Mellen 's inflections, " Hair-hung and breeze-shaken !"
And when the angry preacher turned fiercely upon
him, the scoffer was already fleeing through the door.
CHAPTER VIII.
A LESSON IN SYNTAX.
THE young men were gone until the latter part of
November. Several persons longed for their re-
turn. Mr. Job Goodwin, for one, began to feel a
strong conviction that Mort had taken the fever and
died in the woods. He was also very sure that each
succeeding day would witness some act of hostility
toward himself on the part of Captain Lumsden ; and
as each day failed to see any evil result from the
anger of his powerful neighbor, or to bring any ti-
dings of disaster to Morton, Job Goodwin faithfully
carried forward the dark foreboding with compound
interest to the next day. He abounded in quotations
of such Scripture texts as set forth the fact that man's
days were few and full of trouble. The book of
Ecclesiastes was to him a perennial fountain of misery
he delighted to found his despairing auguries upon
the superior wisdom of Solomon. He looked for
Morton's return with great anxiety, hoping to find
that nothing worse had happened to him than the
shooting away of an arm. Mrs. Goodwin, for Ijer
part, dreaded the evil influences of the excitements of
hunting. She feared lest Morton should fall into the
bad habits that had carried away from home an older
brother, for whose untimely death in an affray shi;
had never ceased to mourn.
76 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
And Patty ! When her father had on that angry
afternoon discovered the turkey that Morton had given
her, and had sent it home with a message in her
name, Patty had borne herself like the proud girl that
she was. She held her head aloft; she neither indi-
cated pleasure nor displeasure at her father's course ;
she would not disclose any liking for Morton, nor
any complaisance toward her father. This air of de-
fiance about her Captain Lumsden admired. It showed
her mettle, he said to himself. Patty would alnlost
have finished that two dozen cuts of yarn if it had
cost her life. She even managed to sing, toward the
last of her weary day of work ; and when, at nine
o'clock, she reeled off her twenty-fourth cut, drawing
a sigh of relief when the reel snapped, and hung her
twelve hanks up together, she seemed as -blithe as
ever. Her sickly mother sitting, knitting in hand,
with wan face bordered by white cap-frill, looked ap-
provingly on Patty's achievement. Patty showed her
good blood, was the mother's reflection.
But Patty.? She did not hurry. She put every-
thing away carefully. She was rather slow about re-
tiring. But when at last she went aloft into her room
in the old block-house part of the building, and shut
and latched her door, and set her candle-stick on the
high, old-fashioned, home-made dressing-stand, she
looked at herself in the little looking-glass and did
not see there the face she had been able to keep
while the eyes of others were upon her. She saw
weariness, disappointment, and dejection. Her strong
will held her up. She undressed herself with habitual
A LESSON IN SYNTAX.
77
quietness.. She even stopped to look again in self-pity
at her face as she stood by the glass to tie on her
night- cap. But
when at last she
had blown out the
candle, and care-
!L**'"""t 'i fully extinguished
fv " ^)' I ( tie wick, and had climb-
\\ J'l ' d into the great, high,
billowy feather-bed un-
der the rafters, she bur-
ied her tired head in
the pillow and cried a long time, hardly once admit-
ting to herself what she was crying about.
And as the days wore on, and her father ceased"
to speak of Kike or Morton- and she heard that they
were out of the settlement, she found in herself an
ever-increasing desire to see Morton. The more she
tried to smother her feeling, and the more she denied
to herself the existence of the feeling, the more intense
Patty in per Chamber.
78 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
did it become. Whenever hunters passed the gate, going
after or returning laden with game, she stopped in-
voluntarily to gaze at them. But she never failed, a
moment later, to affect an indifferent expression of
countenance and to rebuke herself for curiosity so
idle. What were hunters to her.?
But one evening the travelers whom she looked for
went by. They were worse for wear ; their buck-
skin pantaloons were torn by briers ; their tread was
heavy, for they had traveled since daylight ; but Patty,
peering through one of the port-holes of the block-
house, did not fail to recognize old Blaze, burdened
as he was with venison, bear-meat and skins, nor to
note how Morton looked long and steadfastly at Cap-
tain I^umsden's house as if hoping to catch a glimpse
of herself. That look of Morton's sent a blush of
pleasure over her face, which she could not quite con-
ceal when she met the inquiring eyes of a younger
brother a minute later. But when she saw her father
gallop rapidly down the road as if in pursuit of the
young men, her sense of pleasure changed quickly to
foreboding.
Morton and Kike Had managed, for "the most part,
to throw off their troubles in the excitement of hunt-
ing. But when at last they had accumulated all the
meat old Blaze could carry and all the furs they
could " pack," they had turned their steps toward home.
And with the turning of their steps toward home had
come the inevitable turning of their thoughts toward
old perplexities. Morton then confided to Kike his
intention of leaving the settlement and leading the
A LESSON IN SYNTAX.
79
life of a hermit in the wilderness in case it should
prove to be " all off" between him and Patty. And
Kike said that his mind was made up. If he found
that his uncle Enoch had sold the land, he would be
revenged in some way and then run off and live with
the Indians. It is not uncommon for boys now-a-
days to make stern resolutions in moments of wretched-
ness which they never attempt to carry out. But the
rude life of the West developed deep feeling and a
hardy persistence in a purpose once formed. Many a
young man crossed in love or incited to revenge had
already taken to the wilderness, becoming either a
morose hermit or a desperado among the savages.
At the period of life when the animal fights hard for
supremacy in the soul of man, destiny often hangs
very perilously balanced. It was at that day a ques-
tion in many cases whether a young man of force
would become a rowdy or a class-leader.
When once our hunters had entered the settlement
they became more depressed than ever. Morton's eyes
searched Captain Lumsden's house and yard in vain
for a sight of Patty. Kike looked sternly ahead of
him, full of rage that he should have to be reminded
of his uncle's existence. And when, five minutes later,
they heard horse-hoofs behind them, and, looking back,
saw Captain Lumsden himself galloping after them on
his sleek, " clay-bank" saddle-horse, their hearts beat
fast with excitement. Morton wondered what the Cap-
tain could want with them, seeing it was not his way
to carry on his conflicts by direct attack ; and Kike
contented himself with looking carefully to the prim-
80 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
ing of his flintloqk, compressing his lips and walking
straight forward.
" Hello, boys ! Howdy ? Got a nice passel of furs,
eh? Had a good time?"
"Pretty good, thank you, sir!" said Morton, aston-
ished at the greeting, but eager enough to be on good
terms again with Patty's father. Kike said not a
word, but grew white with speechless anger.
"Nice saddle of ven'sori that!" and the Captain
tapped it with his cow-hide whip. " Killed a bar,
too; who killed it?"
"Kike," said Morton.
" Party good far you, Kike ! Got over your pout
about that land yet ?"
Kike did not speak, for the reason that he could
not.
" What a little fool you was to make sich a fuss
about nothing ! I didn't sell it, of course, when you
didn't want me to, but you ought to have a little
manners in your way of speaking. Come to me next
time, and don't go running to the judge and old
Wheeler. If you won't be a fool, you'll find your
own kin your best friends. Come over and see me
to-morry, Mort. I've got some business with you.
Good-by!" and the Captain galloped home.
Nor did he fail to observe how inquiringly Patty
looked at his face to see what had been the nature
of his interview with the boys. With a characteristic
love of exerting power over the moods of another, he
said, in Patty's hearing : " That Kike is the sulkiest
little brute I ever did see."
A LESSON IN SYNTAX. 81
And Patty spent most of her time during the
night in trying to guess what this saying indicated.
It was what Captain Lumsden had wished.
Neither Morton nor Kike could guess what the
Captain's cordiality might signify. Kike was pleased
that his land had not been sold, but he was not in
the least molJiJied by that fact. He was glad of his
victory and hated his uncle all the more.
After the weary weeks of camping, Morton greatly
enjoyed the warm hoe-cakes, the sassafras tea, the
milk and butter, that he got at his mother's table.
His father was pleased to have his boy back safe and
sound, but reckoned the fever was shore to ketch them
all before Christmas or Noo Years. Morton told of
his meeting with the Captain in some elation, but Job
Goodwin shook his head. He "knowed what that
meant," he said. " The Cap'n always wuz sorter deep.
He'd hit sometime when you didn't know whar the
lick come from. And he'd hit powerful hard when he
did hit, you be shore."
Before the supper was over, who should come in
but Brady. He had heard, he said, th9,t Morton had
come home, and he was dayloighted to say him agin.
Full of quaint fun and queer anecdotes, knowing all
the gossip of the settlement, and having a most mis-
cellaneous and disordered lot of information besides,
Brady was always welcome; he filled the place of a
local newspaper. He was a man of much reading, but
with no mental discipline. He had treasured all the
strange and delightful things he had ever heard or
read the bloody murders, the sudden deaths, the
82 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
wonderful accidents and incidents of life, the ups and
downs of noted people, and especially a rare fund oi
humorous stories. He had so many of these at com-
mand that it was often surmised that he manufactured
them. He " boarded 'round " during school-time, and
sponged 'round the rest of the year, if, indeed, a man
can be said to sponge who paid for his board so
amply in amusement, information, flattery, and a thou-
sand other good offices. Good company is scarcer
and higher in price in the back settlements than in
civilization ; and many a backwoods housewife, perish-
ing of ennui, has declared that the genial Brady's
" company wuz worth his keep," an opinion in which
husbands and children always coincided. For wel-
come belongs primarily to woman ; no man makes an-
other's reception sure until he is pretty certain of his
wife's disposition toward the guest.
Mrs. Goodwin set a place for the " master " with
right good will, and Brady catechised " Moirton "
aboiit his adventures. The story of Kike's first bear
roused the good Irishman's enthusiasm, and when
Morton told of his encounter with the circuit-rider,
Brady laughed merrily. Nothing was too bad in his
eyes for " a man that undertook to prache afore hay
could parse." Brady's own grammatical knowledge,
indeed, had more influence on his parsing than on
his speech.
At last, when supper was ended, Morton came to
the strangest of all his adventures the meeting with
Captain Lumsden ; and while he told it, the school-
master's eyes were brimming full of fun. By the time
A LESSOAT JN SYNTAX- 3
the Story was -finished, Morton began to suspect that
Brady knew more about it -than he affected to.
" Looky here, Mr. Brady," he said, " I believe you
could tell something about this thing. What made the
coon come down so easy.?"
" Tut ! tut ! and ye shouldn't call yer own dair
father-in-law (that is to bay) a coun. Ye ought to
have larn't some manners agin this toime, with all the
batins I've gin ye for disrespect to yer supayriors.
An' ispicially to thim as is closte akin to ye."
Little Henry, who sat squat upon the hearth, tick-
ling the ears of a sleepy dog with a straw, saw an in-
finite deal of fun in this rig on Morton.
" Well, but you didn't answer my question, Mr.
Brady. How did you fetch the Captain round ? For
I think you did it."
"Be gorra I did!" and Brady looked up from un-
der his eyebrows with his face all a-twinkle with fun.
" I jist parsed the sintince in sich a way as to put
the Captin in the nominative case. He loikes to be
put in the nominative case, does the Captin. If iver
yer goin' to win the devoine craycher that calls him
father ye'U hev to lam to parse with Captin Lumsden
for the nominative." Here Brady gave the whole
party a look of triumphant mystery, and dropped his
head reflectively upon his bosom.
"Weil, but you'll have to teach me that way of
parsing. You left that rule of syntax out last winter."
said Morton, seeking to draw out th master by hu-
moring his fancy. " How did you parse the sentence
with him, while Kike and I were gone.?"
84 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
" Aisy enough ! don't you say? the nominative gov-
erns the varb, and thin the. varb governs 'most all the
rist of the sintince."
" Give an instance," said Morton, mimicking at the
same time the pompous air and authoritative voice
with which Brady was accustomed to make such a
demand of a pupil.
"Will, thin, I'll till ye, Moirton. But ye must all
be quiet about it. I wint to say the Captin soon af-
ther yerself and Koike carried yer two impty skulls
into the woods. An' I looked koind of confidintial-
loike at the Captin, an' I siz, ' Captin, ye ought to
riprisint this county in the ligislater,' siz I."
" ' Do you think so, Brady .?' siz he.
" ' It's fwat I've been a-sayin' down at the Forks,'
siz I, ' till the folks is all a-gittin' of me opinion,' siz
I ; ' ye've got more interest in the county,' siz I, ' than
the rist,' siz I, ' an' ye've got the brains to exart an
anfluence whin ye git thar,' siz I. Will, ye see, Moir-
ton, the -Captin loiked that, and he siz, ' Will, Brady,'
siz he, ' I'm obleeged fer yer anfluence,' siz he. An'
I saw I had 'im. I'd jist put 'im in the nominative
case governin' the varb. And I was the varb. An' I
mint to govern the rist." Here Brady stopped to smile
complacently and enjoy the mystification of the rest.
" Will, I said to 'im afther that : ' Captain' siz I,
' ye must be moighty keerful not to give the inimy any
handle onto ye,' siz I. An' he siz ' Will, Brady, I'll
be keerful,' siz he. An' I siz, ' Captin, be pertik'ler
keerful about that matter of Koike, if I may make so
bowld,' siz I. ' Fer they'll use that ivery fwere.
A LESSON JN SYNTAX. 85
They're a-talkin' about it now.' An' the Captin siz,
'Will, Brady, I say I kin thrust ye,' siz he. An' I
siz, ' That ye kin. Captain Lumsden : ye kin thrust
the honor of an Oirish gintleman,' siz I. ' Brady,'
siz he, 'this mess of Koike's is a bad one fer me,
since the little brat's gone and brought ole Whayler
into it,' siz he. ' Ye bitter belave it is, Captin, siz I.
' Fwat shin I do, Brady ?' siz he. ' Spoike the guns,
Captin,' siz I. 'How?' siz he. 'Make it all roight
with Koike and Moirton,' siz I. ' As fer Moirton,' siz
I, ' he's the smartest young man,' siz I (puttin' im-
phasis on ''young,' you say), he's the smartest young
man,' siz I, ' in the bottoms ; and if ye kin make an
alloiance with him,' siz I, ' ye've got the smartest old
man managin' the smartest young man. An' if ye kin
make a matrimonial alloiance,' siz I, a-winkin' me oi
at 'im, 'atwixt that devoine young craycher, yer charm-
in' dauther Patty,' siz I, ' and Moirton, ye've got him
tethered for loife, and the guns is spoiked,' siz I. An'
he siz, ' Brady, yer Oirish head is good, afther all.
I'll think about it,' siz he. An' that's how I made
Captin Lumsden the nominative case governin' the
varb that's myself and thin the varb rigilates the
rist. " But I must go and say Koike, or the little black-
hidded fool '11 spoil all me conthrivin' and parsin' wid
the captin. Betwixt Moirton and Koike and the cap-
tin, it's meself as has got a hard sum in the rule of
thray. This toime I hope the answer '11 come out all
roight, Moirton, me b'y!" and Brady slapped him on
the shoulder and went out. Then he put his head
into the door again to say that the answer set down
in the book was: "Misthress Patty Goodwin."
CHAPTER JX.
THE COMING OF THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
COLONEL Wheeler was the standard-bearer of the
flag of independence in the Hissawachee bot-
tom. He had been a Captain in the Revolution; but
Revolutionary titles showed a marked tendency to
grow during the quarter of a century that followed
the close of the war. An ex-officer's neighbors car-
ried him forward with his advancing age ; a sort of
ideal promotion by brevet gauged the appreciation of
military titles as the Revolution passed into history
and heroes became scarcer. And emigration always
advanced a man several degrees new neighbors, in
their uncertainty about his rank, being prone to give
him the benefit of all doubts, and exalt as far as pos-
sible the lustre which the new -comer conferred upon
the settlement. Thus Captain Wheeler in Maryland
was Major Wheeler in Western Pennsylvania, and a
full-blown Colonel by the time he had made his sec-
ond move, into the settlement on Hissawachee Creek.
And yet I may be wrong. Perhaps it was not the
transplanting that did it. Even had he remained on
the " Eastern Shore," he might have passed through a
process of canonization as he advanced in life that
would have brought him to a colonelcy: other men
did. For what is a Colonel but a Captain gone to
seed?
THE COMING OF THE CIRCUIT KIDER. 87
" Gone to seed " may be considered a slang expres-
sion ; and, as a conscientious writer, far be it from me
to use slang. And I take great credit to myself for
avoiding it just now, since nothing could more per-
fectly describe Wheeler. His hair was grizzling, his
shoulders had a chronic shrug, his under lip .protruded
in an expression of perpetual resistance, and his prom-
inent chin and brow seemed to have been jammed to-
gether; the space between was too small. He had an
air of defense ; his nature was always in a " guard-
against-cavalry " attitude. He had entered into the
spirit of colonial resistance from childhood ; he was
born in antagonism to kings and all that are in au-
thority ; it was a family tradition that he had been
flogged in boyhood for shooting pop -gun wads into
the face of a portrait of the reigning monarch.
When he settled in the Hissawachee bottom, he of
course looked about for the power that was to be re-
sisted, and was not long in finding it in his neighbor,
Captain Lumsden. He was the one opponent whom
Lumsden could not annoy into submission or depart-
ure. To Wheeler this fight- against Lumsden was the
one delightful element of life in the Bottoms. He had
now the comfortable prospect of spending his declin-
ing years in a fertile valley where there- was a power-
ful foe, whose encroachments on the rights and privi-
leges, of his neighbors would afford him an inexhaust-
ible theme for denunciation, and a delightful incite-
ment to the exercise of his powers of resistance. And
thus for years he had eaten his dinners with better
relish because of his contest with Lumsden. Mordecai
88 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
could riot have had half so much pleasure in staring
stiffly at the wicked Haman as Isaiah Wheeler found
in meeting Captain Lumsden on the road without so
much as a nod of recognition. And Haman's feelings
were not more deeply wounded than Lumsden 's.
Colonal Wheeler was not very happily married;
for at home he could find no encroachments to resist.
The perfect temper of his wife disarmed even his op-
position. He had begun his married life by fighting
his wife's Methodism ; but when he came to the Hissa-
wachee and found Methodism unpopular, he took up
arms in its defense.
Such was the man whom Kike had selected as
guardian a man who, with all his disagreeableness,
was possessed of honesty, a virtue not- inconsistent
with oppugnancy. But Kike's chief motive in choos-
ing him was that he knew that the choice would be a
stab to his uncle's pride. Moreover, Wheeler was the
only man who would care to brave Lumsden's anger
by taking the trust.
Wheeler lived in a log house on the hillside, and
to this house, on the day after the return of Morton
and Kike, there rode a stranger. He was a broad-
shouldered, stalwart, swarthy man, of thirty-five, with a
serious but aggressive countenance, a broad-brim white
hat, a coat made of country jeans, cut straight-breast-
ed and buttoned to the chin, rawhide boots, and " lin-
sey " leggings tied about his legs below the knees. He
rode a stout horse, arui carried an ample pair of saddle-
bags.
Reining his horse in front of the colonel's double
THE COMING OF THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
89
cabin, he shouted, after the Western fashion, " Hello !
Hello the house!"
At this a quartette of dogs set up a vociferous
barking, ranging in key all the way from the con-
temptible treble of an ill - natured " fice " to the deep
baying of a huge bull-dog.
"Hello the house!" cried the stranger.
Colonel Wiief.ler's Dooeyard.
" Hello ! hello !" answered back Isaiah Wheeler,
opening the door, and shouting to the dogs, "You,
Bull, come here ! Git out, pupj Clear out, all of
you!" And he accompanied this command by threat-
eningly lifting a stick, at which two of the dogs scam-
90 THE CTRCUIT RIDER.
pered away, and a third sneakingly retreated ; but the
bull-dog turned with reluctance, and, without smooth-
ing his bristles at all, slowly marched back toward the
house, protesting with surly growls against this au-
thoritative interruption.
"Hello, stranger, howdy?" said Colonel Wheeler,
advancing with caution, but without much cordiality.
He would not commit himself to a welcome too rashly ;
strangers needed inspection. " ' Light, won't you ?"
he said, presently ; and the stranger proceeded to dis-
mount, while the Colonel ordered one of his sons who
came out at that moment to " put up the stranger's
horse, and give him some fodder and corn." Then
turning to the new-comer, he scanned him a moment,
and said: "A preacher, I reckon, sir?"
"Yes, sir, I'm a Methodist preacher, and I heard
that your wife was a member of the Methodist Church,
and that you were very friendly ; so I came round
this way to see if you wouldn't open your doors for
preaching. I have one or two vacant days on my
round, and thought maybe I might as well take His-
sawachee Bottom into the circuit, if I didn't find any-
thing to prevent."
By this time the colonel and his guest had reached
the door, and the former only said, " Well, sir, let's go
in, and see what the old woman says. I don't agree
with you Methodists about everything, but I do think
that you are doing good, and so I don't allow any-
body to say anything against circuit riders without
taking it up."
Mrs. Wheeler, a dignified woman, with a placidly
THE COMING OF THE CIRCUIT RIDER. 91
religious face a countenance in which scruples are
balanced by evenness of temperament was at the mo-
ment engaged in dipping yam into a blue dye that
stood in a great iron kettle by the fire. She made
haste to wash and dry her hands, that she might have
a "good, old-fashioned Methodist shake -hands" with
Brother Magruder, "the first Methodist preacher she
had seen since she left Pittsburg."
Colonel Wheeler readily assented that Mr. Magru-
der should preach in his house. Methodists had just
the same rights in a free country that other people
had. He " reckoned the Hissawachee settlement didn't
belong to one man, and he had fit aginst the King of
England in his time, and was jist as ready to fight
aginst the King of Hissawachee Bottom." The Colonel
almost relaxed his stubborn lips into a smile when
he said this. Besides, he proceeded, his wife was a
Methodist ; and she had a right to be, if she chose.
He was friendly to religion himself, though he wasn't a
professor. If his wife didn't want to wear rings or
artificials, it was money in his pocket, and nobody had
a right to object. Colonel Wheeler plumed himself
before the new preacher upon his general friendliness
toward religion, and -really thought it might be set down
on the credit side of that account in which he imag-
ined some angelic book-keeper entered all his transac-
tions. He felt in his own mind "middlin' certain,"
as he would have told you, that " betwixt the prayin'
for he got from such a wife as his, and his own gin-
eral friendliness to the preachers and the Methodis'
meetings, he would be saved at the last, somehow or
92 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
nother." It was not in the man to reflect that his
" gineral friendliness " for the preacher had its origin
in a gineral spitefulness toward Captain Lumsden.
Colonel Wheeler's son was dispatched through the
settlement to inform everybody that there would be
preaching in his house that evening. The news was
told at the Forks, where there was always a crowd of
loafers ; and each individual loafer, in riding home
that afternoon, calle(f a "Hello!" at every house he
passed ; and when the salutation from within was an-
swered, remarked that he " thought liker'n not they
had'n heern tell of the preacher's comin' to Colonel
Wheeler's." And then the eager listener, generally the
woman of the house, would cry out, " Laws-a-massy !
You don't say ! A Methodis' ? One of the shoutin'
kind, that knocks folks down when he preaches !
What will the Captin' do? They do say he does hate
the Methodis' worse nor copperhead snakes, now.
Some old quarrel, liker'n not. Well, I'm agoin', jist to
see how r^^/ikl'us them Methodis' does do!"
The news was sent to Brady's school, which had
"tuck up" for the winter, and from this centre also it
soon spread throughout the neighborhood. It reached
Lumsden's very early in the forenoon.
"Well!" said Lumsden, excitedly, but 'still with his
little crowing chuckle ; " so Wheeler's took the Meth-
odists in ! We'll have to see about that. A man that
brings such people to the settlement ought to be
lynched. But I'll match the Methodists. Where's
Patty ? Patty ! O, Patty ! Bob, run and find Miss
Patty."
THE COMING OF THE CIRCUIT RIDER. 93
And the little negro ran out, calling, " Miss Patty !
O' Miss Patty! Whah is ye?"
He looked into the smoke-house, and, then ran
down toward the barn, shouting, " Miss Patty ! O !
Miss Patty!"
Where was Patty?
CHAPTER X.
PATTY IN THE SPRING-HOUSE.
PATTY had that morning gone to the spring-house,
as usual, to strain the milk.
Can it be possible that any benighted reader does not
know what a spring-house is ? A little log cabin six
feet long by five feet wide, without floor, built where
the great stream of water issues clear and icy cold
from beneath the hill. The little cabin-like spring-
house sits always in the hollow ; as you approach it
you look down upon the roof of rough shingles which
Western people call " clapboards," you see the green
moss that overgrows them and the logs, you see
the new-born brook rush out from beneath the logs
that hide its cradle, you lift the home-made latch and
open the low door which creaks on its wooden hinges,
you see the great perennial spring rushing up eagerly
from its subterranean prison, you note how its clear
cold waters lave the sides of the earthen crocks, and
in the dim light and the fresh coolness, in the pres-
ence of the rich creaminess, you feel whole eclogues
of poetry which you can never turn into words.
It was in just such a spring-house that Patty Lums-
den had hidden herself.
She brought clean crocks earthenware milk pans
from the shelf outside, where they had been airing
to keep them sweet ; she held the strainer in her left
PATTY'' IN THE SPRING-HOUSE. 95
hand and poured the milk through it until each crock
was nearly full; she adjusted them in their places
among the stones, so that they stood half immersed in
the cold current of spring water; she laid the smooth
pine cover on each crock, and put a clean stone atop
that to secure it.
While she was thus putting away the milk her
mind was on Morton. She wondered what her father
had said to him yesterday. In the heart of her heart
she resolved that if Morton loved her she would mar-
ry him in the face of her father's displeasure. She
had never rebelled against the iron rule, but she felt
herself full of power and full of endurance. She could
go off into the wilderness with Morton ; they would
build them a cabin, with chinking and daubing, with
puncheon floor and stick chimney; they would sleep,
like other poor settlers, on beds of dry leaves, and they
would subsist upon the food which Morton's unerring
rifle would bring them from the forest. These were
the humble cabin castles she was building. All girls
weave a tapestry of the future ; on Patty's the knight
wore buck-skin clothes and a wolf-skin cap, and
brought home, not the shields or spoils of the enemy,
but saddles of venison and luscious bits of bear-meat
to a lady in linsey or cheap cotton who looked out
of no balcony but a cabin window, and who smoked
her eyes with hanging pots upon a crane in a great
fire-place. I kijow it sounds old-fashioned and senti-
mental in me to say so, and yet how can it matter to
a heart like Patty's what may be the scenery on the
tapestry, if love be the warp and faith the woof?
96
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Morton on his part was at the same time endeavor-
ing to plan his own and Patty's partnership future,
but he drew a more cheerful picture than she did,
for he had no longer any reason to fear Captain
Lumsden's displeasure. He was at the moment go-
ing to meet the
\ Vy \\ Captain, walkmg
\\ \\ down the foot-path
Mi 4 \ r through the woods,
kicking the dry
beech leaves into
billows before him
Patty in the Spring-house.
and singing a Scotch love -song of Burns's which he
had learned from his mother.
PATTY IN^ THE SPRING-BOUSE. 97
He planned one future, she another ; and in after
years they might have laughed to think how far wrong
were both guesses. The path which Morton followed
led by the spring-house, and Patty, standing on the
stones inside, caught the sound of his fine baritone
voice as he approached, singing tender words that
made her heart stand still :
" Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear ;
Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear
Nocht of ill shall come thee near,
My bonnie dearie."
And as he came right by the spring-house, he
sang, now in a lower tone lest he should be heard at
the house, but still more earnestly, and so audibly
that the listening Patty could hear every word, the
last stanza :
" Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart ;
I can die but cannot part.
My bonnie dearie."
And even as she listened to the last line, Morton
had discovered that the spring-house door was ajar,
and turned, shading his eyes, to see if perchance Patty
might not be within. He saw her and reached out
his hand, greeting her warmly ; but his eyes yet un-
accustomed to the imperfect light did not see how
full of blushes was her face for she feared that he
might guess all that she had just been dreaming. But
she was resolved at any rate to show him more kind-
ness than she would have shown had it not been for
the displeasure which she supposed her father had
98 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
manifested. And so she covered the last crock and
came and stood by him at the door of the spring-
house, and he talked right on in the tender strain' of
his song. And she did not protest, but answered
back timidly and almost as warmly.
And that is how little negro Bob at last found
Patty at the spring-house and found Morton with her.
" Law's sake ! Miss Patty, done look for ye mos' ev-
erywhah. Yer paw wants ye." And with that Bob
rolled the whites of his eyes up, parted his black lips
into a broad white grin, and looked at Morton know-
ingly.
CHAPTER XI.
THE VOICE IN THE" WILDERNESS.
"T TA! ha! good morning, Morton!" said the Captain.
XL" You've been keeping Patty down at the spring-
house when she should have been at the loom by this
time. In my time young men and women didn't
waste their mornings. Nights and Sundays are good
enough for visiting. Now, see here, Patty, there's one
of them plagued Methodist preachers brought into the
settlement by Wheeler. These circuit riders are worse
than third day fever 'n' ager. They go against danc-
ing and artificials and singing songs and reading
novels and all other amusements. They give people
the jerks wherever they go. The devil's in 'em. Now
I want you to go to work and get up a dance to-
night, and ask all you can get along with. Nothing
'11 make the preacher so mad as to dance right under
his nose ; and we'll keep a good many people away
who might get the jerks, or fall down with the power
and break their necks, maybe."
Patty was always ready to dance, and she only
said : " If Morton will help me send the invitations."
" I'll do . that," said Morton, and then he told of
the discomfiture he had wrought in a Methodist
meeting while he was gone. And he had the satis-
faction of seeing that the narrative greatly pleased
Captain Lumsden.
100 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
"We'll have to send Wheeler afloat sometime, eh,
Mort?" said the Captain, -chuckling interrogatively.
Morton did not like this proposition, for, notwith-
standing theological differences about election, Mrs.
Wheeler was a fast friend of his mother. He evaded
an answer by hastening to consult with Patty and her
mother concerning the guests.
Those who got " invites" danced cotillions and
reels nearly all night. Morton danced with Patty to
his heart's content, and in the happiness of Morton's
assured love and of a truce in her father's interrup-
tions she was a queen indeed. She wore the antique
earrings that were an heir-loom in her mother's fami-
ly, and a showy breast-pin which her father had
bought her. These and her new dress of English
calico made her the envy of all the others. Pretty
Betty Harsha was led out by some one at almost
every dance, but she would have given all of these
for one dance with Morton Goodwin.
Meantime Mr. Magruder was preaching. Behold
in Hissawachee Bottom the world's evils in miniature !
Here are religion and amusement divorced set over
the one against the other as hostile camps.
Brady, who was boarding for a few days with the
widow Lumsden, went to the meeting with Kike and
his mother, explaining his views as he went along.
" I'm no Mithodist, Mrs. Lumsden. Me father
was a Catholic and me mother a Prisbytarian, and
they compromised on me by making me a mimber of
the Episcopalian Church and throyin' to edicate me
for orders, and intoirely spoiling me for iverything
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. 101
else but a school taycher in these haythen backwoods.
But it does same to me that the Mithodists air the
only payple that can do any good among sich pagans
as we air. What would a parson from the ould coun-
thry do here.? He moight spake as grammathical as
Lindley Murray himsilf, and nobody would be the
better of it. What good does me own grammathical
acquoirements do towards reforming the sittlement.'
With all me grammar I can't kape me boys from
makin' God's name the nominative case before very bad
words. Hey, Koike.' Now, the Mithodists air a nar-
ry sort of a payple. But if you want to make a strame
strong you hev to make it narry. I've read a good
dale of history, and in me own estimation the ould
Anglish Puritans and the Mithodists air both torrents,
because they're both shet up by narry banks. The
Mithodists is ferniiist the wearin' of jewelry and danc-
in' and singin' songs, which is all vairy foolish in me
own estimation. But it's kind o' nat'ral for the mill-
race that turns the whale that fades the worruld to
git mad at the babblin', oidle brook that wastes its
toime among the mossy shtones and grinds nobody's
grist. But the brook ain't so bad afther all. Hey,
Mrs. Lumsden ?"
Mrs. Lumsden answered that she didn't thinb it
was. It was very good for watering stock.
"Thrue as praychin', Mrs. Lumsden," said the
schoolmaster, with a laugh. "And to me own oi the
wanderin' brook, a-goin' where it chooses and doin'
what it plazes, is a dale plizenter to look at than the
sthraight-travelin' mill-race. But I wish these Mithod-
102 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
ists would convart the souls of some of these young-
sters, and make 'em quit their gamblin' and swearin'
and bettin' on horses and gettin' dthrunk. And may-
be if some of 'em would git convarted, they wouldn't
be quoite so anxious to skelp their own uncles. Hey,
Koike ?"
Kike had no time to reply if he had cared to, for
by this time they were at the door of Colonel Wheel-
er's house. Despite the dance there were present,
ftom near and far, all the house would hold. For
those who got no " invite" to Lumsden's had a double
motive for going to meeting ; a disposition to resent
the slight was added to their curiosity to hear the
Methodist preacher. The dance had taken away those
who were most likely to disturb the meeting; people
left out did not feel under any obligation to gratify
Captain Lumsden by raising a row. Kike had been
invited, but had disdained to dance in his uncle's
house.
Both lower rooms of Wheeler's log house were
crowded with people. A little open space was left at
the door between the rooms for the preacher, who
presently came edging his way in through the crowd.
He had been at prayer in that favorite oratory of the
early Methodist preacher, the forest.
Magruder was a short, stout man, with wide shoul-
ders, powerful arms, shaggy brows, and bristling black
hair. He read the hymn, two lines at a time, and led
the singing himself. He prayed with the utmost sin-
cerity, but in a voice that shook the cabm windows
and gave the simple people a deeper reverence for the
THE VOICE IN THE. WILDERNESS. 103
dreadfulness of the preacher's message. He prayed as
a man talking face to face with the Almighty Judge of
the generations of men ; he prayed with an undoubt-
ing assurance of his own acceptance with God, and
with the sincerest conviction of the infinite peril of
his unforgiven hearers. It is not argument that reach-
es men, but conviction; and for immediate, practical
purposes, one Tishbite Elijah, that can thunder out of
a heart that never doubts, is worth a thousand acute
writers of ingenious apologies. *
When Magruder read his text, which was, " Grieve
not the Holy Spirit of God," he seemed to his hear-
ers a prophet come to lay bare their hearts. Magru-
der had not been educated for his ministry by years
of study of Hebrew and Greek, of Exegesis and Sys-
tematics ; but he knew what was of vastly more con-
sequence to him how to read and expound the hearts
and lives of the impulsive, simple, reckless race among
whom he labored. He was of their very fibre.
He commenced with -a fierce attack on Captain
Lumsden's dance, which was prompted, he said, by the
devil, to keep men out of heaven. With half a dozen
ijuick, bold strokes, he depicted Lumsden's selfish ar-
rogance and proud meanness so exactly that' the au-
dience fluttered with sensation. Magruder had a vica-
rious conscience; but a vicarious conscience is good
for nothing unless it first cuts close at home. White-
field said that he never preached a sermon to others till
he had first preached it to George Whitefield ; and Ma-
gr-uder's severities had all the more effect that his au-
dience could see that they had full force upon himself.
104 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
It is hard for us to understand the elements that
produced such incredible excitements as resulted from
the early Methodist preaching. How at a camp-meet-
ing, for instance, five hundred people, indifferent
enough to everything of the sort one hour before,
should be seized during a sermon with terror should
cry aloud to God for mercy, some of them falling in
trances and cataleptic unconsciousness ; and how, out
of all this excitement, there should come forth, in very
ftiany cases, the fruit of transformed lives seems to us
a 'puzzle beyond solution. But the early Westerners
were as inflammable as tow ; they did not deliberate,
they were swept into most of their decisions by con-
tagious excitements. And never did any class of men
understand the art- of exciting by oratory more per-
fectly than the old Western preachers. The simple
hunters to whom they preached had the most abso-
lute faith in the invisible. The Day of Judgment, the
doom of the wicked, and the blessedness of the right-
eous were as real and substantial in their conception
as any facts in life. They could abide no refinements.
The terribleness of Indian warfare, the relentlessness
of their own revengefulness, the sudden lynchings, the
abandoned wickedness of the lawless, and the ruthless-
ness of mobs of " regulators " were a background upon
which they founded the most materialistic conception
of hell and the most literal understanding of the Day
of Judgment. Men like Magruder knew how to handle
these few positive ideas of a future life so that they
were indeed terrible weapons.
On this evening he seized upon the particular sins
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. 105
of the people as things by which they drove away the
Spirit of God. The audience trembled as he moved
on in his rude speech and solemn indignation. Every
man found himself in turn called to the bar of his
own conscience. There was ^^excitement throughout
the house. Some were angry, some sobbed aloud, as
he alluded to " promises . made to dying friends,"
" vows offered to God by the new-made graves of
their children," for pioneer people are very susceptible
to all such appeals to sensibility.
When at last he came to speak of revenge. Kike,
who had listened intently from the first, found himself
breathing hard. The preacher showed how the re
vengeful man was " as much a murderer as if he had
already killed his enemy and hid his mangled body in
the leaves of the woods where none but the wolf could
ever find him !"
At these words he turned to the part of the room
where Kike sat, white with feeling. Magruder, look-
ing always for the effect of his arrows, noted Kike's
emotion and paused. The house was utterly still,
save now and then a sob from some anguish-smitten
soul. The people were sitting as if waiting their
doom. Kike already saw in his imagination the mu-
tilated form of his uncle Enoch hidden in the leaves
and scented by hungry wolves. He waited to hear
his own sentence. Hitherto the preacher had spoken
with vehemence. Now, he stopped and began again
with tears, and in a tone broken with emotion, look-
ing in a general way toward where Kike sat : " O,
young man, there are stains of blood on your hands!
106 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
How dare you hold them up before the Judge of all ?
You are another Cain, and God sends his messenger
to you to-day to inquire after him whom you have
already killed in your heart. You are a murderer !
Nothing but God's mercy can snatch you from hell !'"
No doubt all this is ' rude in refined ears. But is
it nothing that by these rude words he laid bare
Kike's sins to Kike's conscience 1 That in this mo-
ment Kike heard the voice of God denouncing his
sins, and trembled ? Can you do a man any higher
service than to make him know himself, in the light
of the highest sense of right that he capable of.?
Kike, for his part, bowed to the rebuke of the preach-
er as to the rebuke of God. His frail frame shook
with fear and penitence, as it had before shaken with
wrath. " O, God ! what a wretch I am !" cried he,
hiding his face in his hands.
" Thank God for showing it to you, my young
friend, " responded the preacher. " What a wonder
that your sins did not drive away the Holy Ghost,
leaving you with your day of grace sinned away, as
good as damned already ! " And with this he turned
and appealed yet more powerfully to the rest, already
excited by the fresh contagion of Kike's penitence,
until there were cries and sobs in all parts of the
house. Some left in haste to avoid yielding to their
feeling, while many fell upon their knees and prayed.
The preacher now thought it time to change, and
offer some consolation. You would say that his view
of the atonement was crude, conventional and com-
mercial ; that he mistook figures of speech in Scripture
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. 107
for general and formulated postulates. But however
imperfect his symbols, he succeeded in making known
CO his hearers the mercy of God. And surely that is
the main thing. The figure of speech is but the ves-
sel ; the great truth that God is merciful to the guilty,
what is this but the water of life ? not less refreshing
because the jar in which it is brought is rude ! The
preacher's whole manner changed. Many weeping and
sobbing people were swept now to the other extreme,
and cried aloud with joy. Perhaps Magruder ex-
aggerated the change that had taken place in them.
But is it nothing that a man has bowed his soul in
penitence before God's justice, and then lifted his face
in childlike trust to God's mercy ? It is hard for one
who has once passed through this experience not
to date from it a revolution. There were many who
had not much root in themselves, doubtless, but among
Magruder's hearers this day were those who, living
half a century afterward, counted their better living
from the hour of his forceful presentation of God's an-
tagonism to sin, and God's tender mercy for the sinner.
It was not in Kike to change quickly. Smitten
with a sense of his gailt, he rose from his seat and
slowly knelt, quivering with feeling. When the preach-
er had finished preaching, amid cries of sorrow and
joy, he began to sing, to an exquisitely pathetic tune,
Watts' hymn :
" Show pity, Lord, O ! Lord, forgive,
Let a repenting rebel live.
Are not thy mercies large and free?
May not a sinner trust in thee ? "
108 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
The meeting was held until late. Kike remained
quietly kneeling, the tears trickling through his fingers.
He did not utter a word or cry. In all the confusion
he was still. What deliberate recounting of his own
misdoings took place then, no one can know. Thought-
less readers may scoff at the poor backwoods boy in
his trouble. But who of us would not be better if
we could be brought thus face to face with our own
souls.' His simple penitent faith did more for him
than all our philosophy has done for us, maybe.
At last the meeting was dismissed. Brady, who
had been awe-stricken at sight of Kike's agony of
contrition, now thought it best that he and Kike's
mother should go home, leaving the young man to
follow when he chose. But Kike staid immovable
upon his knees. His sense of guilt had become an
agony. All those allowances which we in a more in-
telligent age make for inherited peculiarities and the
defects of education. Kike knew nothing about. He
believed all his revengefulness to be voluntary ; he
had a feeling that unless he found some assurance of
God's mercy then he. could not live till morning. So
the minister and Mrs. Wheeler and two or three
brethren that had come from adjoining settlements
staid and prayed and talked with the distressed youth
until after midnight. The early Methodists regarded
this persis.tence as a sure sign of a " sound " awakening.
At last the preacher knelt again by Kike, and
asked " Sister Wheeler " to pray. There was nothing
in the old Methodist meetings so excellent as the
audible prayers of women. Women oftener than men
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. 109
have a genius for prayer. Mrs. Wheeler began tend-
erly, penitently to confess, not Kike's sins, but the
sins of all of them ; her penitence fell in with Kike's ;
she confessed the very sins that he was grieving over.
Then slowly slowly, as one who waits for another to
follow she began to turn toward trustfulness. Like a
little child she spoke to God ; under the influence of
her praying Kike sobbed audibly. Then he seemed to
feel the contagion of her faith ; he, too, looked to God
as a father ; he, too, felt the peace of a trustful child.
The great struggle was over. Kike was revenge-
ful no longer. He was distrustful and terrified no
longer. He had " crept into the heart of God " and
found rest. Call it what you like, when a man passes
through such an experience, however induced, it sepa-
rates the life that is passed from the life that follows
by a great gulf.
Kike, the new Kike, forgiving and forgiven, rose
up at the close of the prayer, and with a peaceful
face shook hands with the preacher and the brethren,
rejoicing in this new fellowship. He said nothing,
but when Magruder sang
" Oh ! how happy are they
Who their Saviour obey,
And have laid up their treasure above !
Tongue can never express
The sweet comfort and peace
Of a soul in its earliest love,"
Kike shook hands with them all again, bade them
good-night, and went home about the time- that his
friend Morton, flushed and weary with dancing and
pleasure, laid himself down to rest.
CHAPTER XII.
MR. BRADY PROPHESIES.
THE Methodists had actually made a break in the
settlement. Dancing had not availed to keep them
out. It was no longer a question of getting " shet "
of Wheeler and his Methodist wife, thus extirpating
the contagion. There would now be a " class " form-
ed, a leader appointed, a regular preaching place es-
tablished ; Hissawachee would become part of that
great wheel called a circuit; there would be revivals
and conversions ; the peace of the settlement would be
destroyed. For now one might never again dance at
a "hoe-down," drink whiskey at a shuckin', or race
" bosses " on Sunday, without a lecture from some-
body. It might be your own wife, too. Once let the
Methodists in, and there was no knowm'.
Lumsden, for his part, saw more serious consequen-
ces. By his opposition, he had unfortunately spoken
for the enmity of the Methodists in advance. The
preacher had openly defied him. Kike would join the
class, and the Methodists would naturally resist his as-
cendancy. No concession on his part short of abso-
lute surrender would avail. He resolved therefore
that the Methodists should find out " who they were
fighting."
Brady was pleased. Gossips are always delighted
to have something happen out of the usual course. It
MR. BRADY PROPHECIES. m
gives them a theme, something to exercise their wits
upon. Let us not be too hard upon gossip. It is one
form of communicative intellectual activity. Brady,
linder different conditions, might have been a journal-
ist, writing relishful leaders on "topics of the time."
For what is journalism but elevated and organized
gossip.? The greatest benefactor of an out-of-the-way
neighborhood is the man or woman with a talent for
good-natured gossip. Such an one averts absolute men-
tal stagnation, diffuses intelligence, and keeps alive a
healthful public opinion on local questions.
Brady wanted to taste some of Mrs. Goodwin's
"ry-al hoe-cake." That was the reason he assigned for
his visit on the evening after the meeting. He was
always hungry for hoe-cake when anything had hap-
pened about which he wanted to talk. But on this
evening Job Goodwin got the lead in conversation at
first.
" Mr. Brady," said he, " what's going to happen to
us all.' These Methodis' sets people crazy with the
jerks, I've hearn tell. Hey.? I hear dreadful things
about 'em. Oh dear, it seems like as if everything
come upon folks at once. Hey.? The fever's spread-
in' at Chilicothe, they tell me. And then, if we should
git into a . war with England, you know, and the In-
dians should come and skelp us, they'd be precious
few left, betwixt them that went crazy and them that
got skelped. Precious few, / tell you. Hey?"
Here Mr. Goodwin knocked the ashes out of his
pipe and laid it away, and punched the fire medita-
tively, endeavoring to discover in his imagination some
112
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
new and darker pigment for his picture of the future.
But failing to think of anything more lugubrious than
Methodists, Indi-
ans, and fever, he
set the tongs in the
corner, heaved a
sigh of discourage-
ment, and looked at
Brady inquiringly.
" Ye 're loike the
hootin' owl, Mis-
ther Goodwin ; it's
the black side ye're
afther lookin' at all
the toime. Where's
Moirton.' He aint
been to school yet
since this quarter
took up."
"Morton.? He's
got to stay out, I
^)
Job Goodwin.
expect. My rheumatiz is mighty bad, and I'm powerful
weak. I don't think craps '11 be good next year, and
I expect we'll'have a hard row to hoe, partic'lar if we
all have the fever, and the Methodis' keep up their
excitement and driving people crazy with jerks, and
war breaks out with England, and the Indians come on
us. But here's Mort now."
" Ha ! Moirton, and ye wasn't at matin' last noight 1
Ye heerd fwat a toime we had. Most iverybody got
struck harmless, excipt mesilf and a few other hard-
MR. BRADY PROPHECIES. 113
ened sinners. Ye heerd about Koike? I reckon the
Captain's good and glad he's got the blissin'; it's a
warrantee on the Captain's skull, maybe. Fwat would
ye do for a crony now, Moirton, if Koike come to be
a praycher ?"
"He aint such a fool, I guess," said Morton, with
whom Kike's " getting religion " was an unpleasant
topic. " It'll all wear off with Kike soon enough."-
"Don't be too shore, Moirton. Things wear off
with you, sometoimes. Ye swear ye'll niver swear no
more, and ye're willin' to bet that ye'll niver bet agin,
and ye're always a-talkin' about a brave loife ; but the
flesh is feminst ye. When Koike's bad, he's bad all
over; lickin' won't take it out of him; I've throid it
mesilf. Now he's got good, the divil '11 have as hard
a toime makin' him bad as I had makin' him good.
I'm roight glad it's the divil now, and not his school-
masther, as has got to throy to handle the lad. Got
ivery lisson to-day, and didn't break a single rule of
the school ! What do you say to that, Moirton .? The
divil's got his hands full thair. Hey, Moirton.'"
"Yes, but he'll never be a preacher. He wants to
get rich just to spite the Captain."
" But the spoite's clean gone with the rist, Moirton.
And he'll be a praycher yit. Didn't he give me a
talkin' to this mornin', at breakfast ? Think of the im-
pudent little scoundrel a-venturin' to tell his ould mas-
ther that he ought to repint of his sins! He talked
to his mother, too, till she croid. He'll make her be-
lave she is a great sinner whin she aint wicked a bit,
excipt in her grammar, which couldn't be worse. I've
114 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
talked to her about that mesilf. Now, Moirton, I'll
tell ye the symptoms of a praycher among the Mith-
odists. Those that take it aisy, and don't bother a
body, you needn't be afeard of. But those that git it
bad, and are throublesome, and middlesome, and ag-
gravatin', ten to one '11 turn out praychers. The lad
that'll tackle his masther and his mother at breakfast
the very mornin' afther he's got the blissin, while he's
yit a babe, so to spake, and prayche to- 'em single-
handed, two to one, is a-takin' the short cut acrost the
faild to be a praycher of the worst sort ; one of the
kind that's as thorny as a honey-locust."
" Well, why can't they be peaceable, and let other
people alone ? That meddling is just what I don't
like," growled Morton.
" Bedad, Moirton, that's jist fwat Ahab and Jizebel
thought about ould Elijy ! We don't any of us loike to
have our wickedness or laziness middled with. 'Twas
middlin', sure, that the Pharisays objicted to; and if
the blissed Jaysus hadn't been so throublesome, he
wouldn't niver a been crucified."
" Why, Brady, you'll be a Methodist yourself," said
Mr. Job Goodwin.
" Niver a bit of it, Mr. Goodwin. I'm rale lazy.
This lookin' at the state of me moind's insoides, and
this chasin' afther me sins up hill and down dale all
the toime, would niver agray with me frail constitoo-
tion. This havin' me spiritooal pulse examined ivery
wake in class -matin', and' this watchin' and prayin',
aren't for sich oidlers as me. I'm too good-natered to
trate mesilf that way, sure. Didn't you iver notice
MR. BRADY PROPHECIES. 115
that the highest vartoos ain't possible to a rale good-
nater'd man?"
Here Mrs. Goodwin looked at the cake on the hoe
in front of the fire, and found it well browned. Sup-
per was ready, and the conversation drifted to Mor-
ton's prospective arrangement with Captain Lumsden
to cultivate his hill farm on the "sheers." Morton's
father shook his head ominously. Didn't believe the
Captain was in 'amest. Ef he was, Mort mout git the
fever in the winter, or die, or be laid up. 'T wouldn't
do to depend on no sech promises, no way.
But, notwithstanding his father's croaking, Morton
did hold to the Captain's promise, and to the hope
of Patty. To the Captain's plans for mobbing Wheeler
he offered a strong resistance. But he was ready
enough to engage in making sport of the despised
religionists, and even organized a party to interrupt
Magruder with tin horns when he should .preach
again. But all this time Morton was uneasy in him-
self. What had become of his dreams of being a
hero ? Here was Kike bearing all manner of perse-
cution with patience, devoting himself to the welfare of
others, while all his own purposes of noble and knight-
ly living were hopelessly sunk in a morass of adverse
circumstances. One of Morton's temperament must
either grow better or worse, and, chafing under these
embarassments, he played and drank more freely than
ever.
CHAPTER XIII.
TWO TO ONE.
MAGRUDER had been so pleased with his success
in organizing a class in the Hissawachee settle-
ment that he resolved to favor them with a Sunday
sermon on his next round. He was accustomed to
preach twice every week-day and three times on every
Sunday, after the laborious manner of the circuit-
rider of his time. And since he expected to leave
Hissawachee as soon as meeting should be over, for
his next appointment, he determined to reach the set-
tlement before breakfast that he might have time to
confirm the brethren and set things in order.
When the Sunday- set apart for the second sermon
drew near, Morton, with the enthusiastic approval of
Captain Lumsden, made ready his tin horns to inter-
rupt the preacher with a serenade. But Lumsden had
other plans of which Morton had no knowledge.
John Wesley's rule was, that a preacher should
rise at four o'clock and spend the hour until five in
reading, le be-
gin their success where others end in failure. He was
through with the sermon, and it had occupied just six
minutes. The lad's scanty provisions had not been
multiplied. But he felt relieved. The sermon over,
there was no longer necessity for trying to speak
against time, nor for observing the outward manner of
a preacher.
" Now," he said, doggedly, " you have all seen that
I cannot preach worth a cent. When David went out
to fight, he had the good sense not to put on Saul's
armor. I was fool enough to try to wear Brother Ma-
gruder's. Now, I'm done with that. The text and
sermon are gone. But I'm not ashamed of Jesus
Christ. And before I sit down, I am going to tell
you all what he has done for a poor lost sinner like
KIKE'S sermon: ]29
Kike told the ' story with sincere directness. His
recital of his own sins was a rebuke to others ; with a
trembling voice and a simple earnestness absolutely
electrical, he told of his revengefulness, and of the
effect of Magruder's preaching on him. And now that
the flood-gates of emotion were opened, all trepidation
departed, and there came instead the fine glow of mar-
tial courage. He could have faced the universe.
From his own life the transition to the lives of those
around him was easy. He hit right and left. The
excitable crowd swayed with consternation as, in a rap-
id and vehement utterance, he denounced their sins
with the particularity of one who had been familiar
with them all his life. Magruder forgot to respond;
he only leaned back and- looked in bewilderment, with
open eyes and mouth, at the fiery boy whose conta-
gious excitement was fast setting the whole audience
ablaze. Slowly the people pressed forward off the
fences. All at once there was a loud bellowing cry
from some one who had fallen prostrate outside the
fence, and who began to cry aloud as if the portals
of an endless perdition were yawning in his face. Ma-
gruder pressed through the crowd to find that the
fallen man was his antagonist of the morning Bill
McConkey ! Bill had concealed his bruised nose behind
a tree, but had been drawn forth by the fascination of
Kike's earnestness, and had finally fallen under the effect
of his own terror. This outburst, of agony from McCon-
key was fuel to the flames, and the excitement now
spread to all parts of the audience. Kike went from
man to man, and exhorted and rebuked each one in
130 THE CTRCUIT RIDER.
particular. Brady, not wishing to h'ear a public com-
mentary on his own life, waddled away when he saw
Kike coming; his mother wept bitterly under his ex-
hortation ; and Morton sat stock still on the fence list-
ening, half in anguish and half in anger, to Kike's
public recital of his sins.
At last Kike approached his uncle ; for Captain
Lumsden had come on purpose to enjoy Morton's
proposed interruption. He listened a minute to Kike's
exhortation, and the contrary emotions of alarm at
the thought of God's judgment and anger at Kike's
impudence contended within him until he started for
his horse and was seized with that curious nervous
affection which originated in these religious excite-
ments and disappeared with them.* He jerked vio-
lently his jerking only adding to his excitement, which
in turn increased the severity of his contortions. This
nervous affection was doubtless a natural physical re-
sult of violent excitement; but the people of that day
imagined that it was produced by some supernatural
agency, some attributing it to God, others to the devil,
and yet others to some subtle charm voluntarily exer-
cised by the preachers. Lumsden went home jerking
all the way, and cursing the Methodists more bitterly
than ever.
* It bore, however, a curious resemblance to the "dancing dis-
ease" which prevailed in Italy in the Middle Ages.
CHAPTER XV.
MORTON'S RETREAT.
IT would be hard to analyze the emotions with which
Morton had listened to Kike's hot exhortation. In
vain he argued with himself that a man need not be
a Methodist and "go shouting and crying'^all over
the country," in order to be good. He knew that
Kike's life was better than his own, and that he had
not force enough to break his habits and associations
unless he did so by putting himself into direct antag-
onism with them. He inwardly condemned himself
for his fear of Lumsden, and he inly cursed Kike for
telling him the blunt truth about himself. But ever
as there came the impulse to close the conflict and
be at peace with himself by " putting himself boldly
on the Lord's side, " as Kike phrased it, he thought
of Patty, whose aristocratic Virginia pride would re-
gard marriage with a Methodist as worse than death.
And so, in mortal terror, lest he should yield to
his emotions so far as to compromise himself, he
rushed out of the crowd, hurried home, took down
his rifle, and rode away, intent only on getting out
of the excitement.
As he rode away from home he met Captain
Lumsden hurrying from the meeting with the jerks,
and leading his horse the contortions of his body
132 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
not allowing him to ride. With every step he took
he grew more and more furious. Seeing Morton, he
endeavored to vent his passion upon him.
"Why didn't you blow why didn't why didn't
you blow your tin horns, this " but at this point
the jerks became so violent as to throw off his hat
and shut off all utterance, and he only gnashed his
teeth and hurried on with irregular steps toward home,
leaving Morton to gauge the degree of the Captain's
wrath by the involuntary distortion of his visage.
Goodwin rode listlessly forward, caring little whith-
er he went; endeavoring only to allay the excitement
of his conscience, and to imagine some sort of future in
which he might hope to return and win Patty in spite
of Lumsden's opposition. Night found him in front
of the " City Hotel," in the county-seat village of
Jonesville ; and he was rejoiced to find there, on
some political errand, Mr. Burchard, whom he had
met awhile before at Wilkins', in the character of a
candidate for sheriff.
" How do you do, Mr. Morton .' Howdy do ?"
said Burchard, cordially, having only heard Morton's
first name and mistaking it for his last. " I'm lucky
to meet you in this town. Do ^ you live over this
way ? I thought you lived in our county and 'lec-
tioneered you expecting to get your vote."
The conjunction of Morton and- Burchard on a
Sunday evening (or any other) meant a game at cards,
and as Burchard was the more skillful and just now
in great need of funds, it meant that all the contents
of Morton's pockets should soon transfer themselves
MORTON'S RET HEAT.
133
to Burchard's, the more that Morton in his contend-
ing with the religious excitement of the morning
rushed easily into the opposite excitement of gambling.
The violent awakening of a religious revival has a sharp
polarity it has sent many a man headlong to the
devil. When Morton had frantically bet and lost all
Gambling.
his money, he proceeded to bet his rifle, then his
grandfather's watch an ancient time-piece, that Bur-
chard examined with much curiosity. Having lost
this, he staked his pocket-knife, his hat, his coat, and
offered to put up his boots, but Burchard refused
134 THE CIJiCUJT RIDER.
them. The madness of gambling was on the young
man, howeVer. He had no difficulty in persuading
Burchard to take his mare as security for a hundred
dollars, which he proceeded to gamble away by the
easy process of winning once and losing twice.
When the last dollar was gone, his face was very
white and calm. He leaned back in the chair and
looked at Burchard a moment or two in silence.
" Burchard," said he, at last, " I'm a picked goose.
I don't know whether I've got any brains or not.
But if you'll lend me the rifle you won long enough
for me to have a farewell shot, I'll find out what's
inside this good-for-nothing cocoa-nut of mine."
Burchard was not without generous traits, and he
was alarmed. "Come, Mr. Morton, don't be desper-
ate. The luck's against you, but you'll have better
another time. Here's your hat and coat, and you're
welcome. I've been flat of my back many a time,
but I've always found a way out. I'll pay your
bill here to-morrow morning. Don't think of doing
anything desperate. There's plenty to live for yet.
You'll break some girl's heart if you kill yourself,
maybe."
This thrust hurt Morton keenly. But Burchard
was determined to divert him from his suicidal im-
pulse.
" Come, old fellow, you're excited. Come out into
the air. Now, don't kill yourself. You looked trou-
bled when you got here. I take it, there's some
trouble at home. Now, if there is"^ here Burchard
hesitated " if there is trouble at home, I can put
MORTON'S RETREAT. 135
you on the track of a band of fellows that have
been in trouble themselves. They help one another.
Of course, I haven't anything to do with them; but
they'll be mighty glad to get a hold of a fellow like
you, that's a good shot and not. afraid."
For a moment even outlawry seemed attractive to
Morton, so utterly had hope died out of his heart.
But only for a moment ; then his moral sense re-
coiled.
" No ; I'd rather shoot myself than kill somebody
else. I can't take that road, Mr. Burchard."
" Of course you can't," said Burchard, affecting to
laugh. " I knew you wouldn't. But I wanted to turn
your thoughts away from bullets and all that. Now,
Mr. Morton "
" My name's not Morton. My last name is Good-
win Morton Goodwin." This correction was made
as a man always attends to trifles when he is trying
to decide a momentous question.
" Morton Goodwin ? " said Burchard, looking at
him keenly, as the two stood together in the moon-
light. Then, after pausing a moment, he added : " I
had a crony by the name of Lew Goodwin, once.
Devilish hard case he was, but good-hearted. Got
killed in a fight in Pittsburg."
" He was my brother,'' said Morton.
"Your brother? thunder! You don't mean it.
Let's see ; he told me once his father's name was
Moses no ; Job. Yes, that's it Job. Is that your
father's name .' "
" Yes. "
136 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
"I reckon the old folks must a took Lew's devil-
try hard. "Didn't kill 'em, did it?"
" No. "
" Both alive yet ? "
"Yes."
"And now you want to kill both of 'cm by com-
mitting suicide. You ought to think a little of your
mother "
" Shut your mouth," said Morton, turning fiercely
on Burchard ; for he suddenly saw a vision of the
agony his mother must suffer.
" Oh ! don't get mad. I'm going to let you have
back your horse and gun, only you must give me a
bill of sale so that I may be sure you won't gamble
them away to somebody else. You must rfedeem them
on your honor in six months, with a hundred and
twenty-five dollars. I'll do that much for the sake of my
old friend. Lew Goodwin, who stood by mc in many
a tight place, and .was a goud-hearted fellow after all."
Morton accepted this little respite, and Burchard
left the tavern. As it was now past midnight, Good-
win did not go to bed. At two o'clock he gave Dolly
corn, and before daylight he rode out of the village.
But not toward home. His gambling and losses
would be speedily reported at home and to Captain
Lumsden. And moreover, Kike would persecute him
worse than ever. He rode out of town in the direc-
tion opposite to that he would have taken in return-
ing to Hissawachee, and he only knew that it was
opposite. He was trying what so many other men
have tried in vain to do to run away from himself.
MORTON'S RETREAT. 137
But not the fleetest Arabian charger, nor the swiftest
lightning express, ever yet enabled a man to leave a
disagreeable self behind. The wise man knows better,
and turns round and faces it.
About noon Morton, who had followed an. obscure
and circuitous trail of which he knew nothing, drew
near to a low log-house with deerV horns over the
door, a sign that the cabin was devoted to hotel pur-
poses a place where a stranger might get a little
food, a place to rest on the floor, and plenty of
whiskey. There were a dozen horses hitched to trees
about it, and Goodwin got down and went in from a
spirit of idle curiosity. Certainly the place was not
attractive. The landlord had a cut-throat way of
looking closely at a guest from under his eye-brows;
the guests all wore black beards, and Morton soon
found reason to suspect that these beards were not
indigenous.- He was himself the object of much dis-
agreeable scrutiny, but he could hardly restrain a
mischievous smile at thought of the disappointment to
which any highwayman was doomed who should at-
tempt to rob him in his present penniless condition.
The very worst' that could happen would be the loss
of Dolly and his rifle. It soon occurred to him that
this lonely place was - none other than " Brewer's
Hole," one of the favorite resorts of Micajah Harp's
noted band of desperadoes, a place into which few
honest men ever ventured.
One of the men presently stepped to the window,
rested his foot upon the low sill, and taking up a
piece of chalk, drew a line from the toe to the top
138 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
of his boot.* Several others imitated him ; and Mor-
ton, in a spirit of reckless mischief and adventure,
took the chalk and marked his right boot in the same
way.
" Will you drink .'" said the man who had first
chalked his boot.
Goodwin accepted the invitation, and as they stood
near together, Morton could plainly discover the false-
ness of his companion's beard. Presently the man
fixed his eyes on Goodwin and asked, in an indiffer-
ent tone: "Cbt or carry?"
" Carry,'' answered Morton, not knowing the mean-
ing of the lingo, but finding himself in a predicament
from which there was no escape but by drifting with
the current. A few minutes later a bag, which seemed
to contain some hundreds of dollars, was thrust into
his hand, and Morton, not knowing what to do with
it, thought best to " carry " it off. He mounted his
mare and rode away in a direction opposite to that in
which he had come. He had not gone more than
three miles when he met Burchard.
"Why, Burchard, how did you come here?"
" Oh, I came by a short cut."
But Burchard did not say that he had traveled in
the night, to avoid observation.
" Hello ! Goodwin," cried Burchard, " you've got
* In relating this incident, I give the local tradition as it is
yet told in the neighborhood. It does not seem that chalking
one's boot is a. very prudent mode of recognizing the members of
a secret band, but I do not suppose that men who follow a high-
wayman's life are very wise people.
MORTON'S RETREAT. 139
chalk on your boot! I hope you haven't joined
the"
" Well, I'll tell you, Burchard, how that come. I
found the greatest set of disguised cut-throats you ever
saw, at this little hole back here. You hadn't better
go there, if you don't want to be relieved of all the
money you got last night. I saw them chalking their
boots, and I chalked mine, just to see what would
come of it. And here's what come of it ;" and with
that, Morton showed his bag of money. " Now," he
said, "if I could find the right owner of this money,
I'd give it to him; but I take it he's buried in some
holler, without nary coffin or grave-stone. I 'low to
pay you what I owe you, and take the rest out to Vin-
cennes, or somewheres else,, and use it for a nest-egg.
' Finders, keepers,' you know."
Burchard looked at him darkly a moment. " Look
here, Morton Goodwin, I mean. You'll lose your
head, if you fool with chalk that way. If you don't
give that money up to the first man that asks for it,
you are a dead man. They can't be fooled for long.
They'll be after you. There's no way now but to
hold on to it and give it up to the first man that
asks; and if he don't shoot first, you'll be lucky. I'm
going down this trail a way. I want to see old
Brewer. He's got a good deal of political influence.
Good-bye!"
Morton rode forward uneasily until he came to a
place two miles farther on, where another trail joined
the one he was traveling. Here there stood a man
with a huge beard, a blanket over his shoulders, holes
140 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
cut through for arms, after the frontier fashion, a belt
with pistols and knives, and a bearskin cap. The
stranger stepped up to him, reaching out his hand and
saying nothing. Morton was only too glad to give up
the money. And he set Dolly off at her best pace,
seeking to get as far as possible from the head-quarters
of the cut -or -carry gang. He could not but wonder
how Burchard should seem to know them so well. He
did not much like the -thought that Burchard's forbear-
ance had bound him to support that gentleman's po-
litical aspirations when he had opportunity. This
friendly relation with thieves was not what he would
have liked to see in a favorite candidate, but a cursed
fatality seemed to be dragging down all his high aspi-
rations. It was like one of those old legends he had
heard his mother recite, of men who had begun by
little bargains with the devil, and had presently found
themselves involved in evil entanglements on every
hand.
CHATTER XVI.
SHORT SHRIFT.
BUT Morton had no time to busy himself now with
nice scruples. Bread and meat are considerations
more imperative to a healthy man than conscience.
He had no money- He might turn aside from The
trail to hunt; indeed this was what he had meant to
do when he started. But ever, as he traveled, he had
become more and more desirous of getting away from
himself. He was now full ^ixty or seventy miles from
home, but he could not make up his mind to stop and
devote himself to hunting. At four o'clock the valley
of the Mustoga lay before him, and Morton, still pur-
poseless, rode on. And now at last the habitual
thought of his duty to his mother was returning upon
him, and he began to he hesitant about going on.
After all, his flight seemed foolish. Patty might not
yet be' lost; and as for Kike's revival, why should he
yield to it, unless he chose?
In this painful indecision he resolved to stop and
crave a night's lodging at the crossing of the river.
He was the more disposed to this that Dolly, having
been ridden hard all day without food, showed unmis-
takable signs of exhaustion, and it was now snowing.
He would give her a night's rest, and then perhaps
take the road back to the Hissawachee, or go into the
wilderness and hunt.
142 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
"Hello the house!" he called. "Hello!"
A long, lank man, in butternut jeans, opened the
door, and responded with a " Hello !"
''Can I get to stay here all night?"
"Wal, no, I 'low not, stranger. Kinder full to-
night. You mout git a place about a mile furder on
whar you could hang up for the night, mos' likely;
but I can't keep you, no ways."
" My mare's dreadful tired, and I can sleep any-
where," plead Morton.
"She does look sorter tuckered out, sartain ; blamed
if she don't! Whar did you git her.?"
"Raised her," said Morton.
"Whar abouts.?"
" Hissawachee."
" You don't say ! How far you rid her to-day ?"
" From Jonesville."
" Jam up fifty miles, and over tough roads ! Mighty
purty critter, that air. Powerful clean legs. She's
number one. Is she your'n, did you say?"
"Well, not exactly mine. That is ". Here Mor-
ton hesitated.
" Stranger," said the settler, " you can't put up
here, no ways. I tuck in one of your sort a month
ago, and he rid my sorrel mare off in the middle of
the night. I'll bore a hole through him, ef I ever set
eyes on him." And the man had disappeared in the
house before Morton could reply.
To be in a snow-storm without shelter was unpleas-
ant; to be refused a lodging and to be mistaken for
a horse-thief filled the cup of Morton's bitterness. He
SHORT SHRIFT. I43
reluctantly turned his horse's head toward the river.
There was no ferry, and the stream was so swollen
that he must needs swim Dolly across.
He tightened his girth and stroked Dolly affection-
ately, with a feeling that she was the only friend he
had left. " Well, Dolly," he said, " it's too bad to make
you swim, after such a day ; but you must. If we
drown, we'll drown together."
The weary Dolly put her head against his cheek
in a dumb trustfulness.
There was a road cut through the steep bank on
the other side, so that travelers might ride down to
the water's edge. Knowing that he would have to
come out at that place, young Goodwin rode into the
water as far up the stream as he could find a suitable
place. Then, turning the mare's head upward, he
started across. Dolly swam bravely enough until she
reached the middle of the stream; then, finding her
strength well nigh exhausted after her travel, and un-
der the burden of her master, she refused his guidance,
and turned her head directly toward the road, which
offered the only place of exit. The rapid current
swept horse and rider down the stream ; but still Dolly
fought bravely, and at last struck land just below the
road. Morton grasped the bushes over his head, urged
Dolly to greater exertions, and the well-bred creature,^
rousing all the remains of her magnificent force, suc-
ceeded in reaching the road. Then the young man
got down and caressed her, and, looking back at the
water, wondered why he should have struggled to
preserve a life that he was not able to regulate, and
144 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
that promised him nothing but misery and embarrass-
ment.
The snow was now falling rapidly, and Morton
pushed his tired filley on another mile. Again he hal-
looed. This time he was welcomed by an old woman, '
who, in answer to his inquiry, said he might put the
mare in the stable. She didn't ginerally keep no trav-
elers, but it was too orful a night fer a livin' human
bein' to be out in. Her son Jake would be in thi-
reckly, and she "lowed he wouldn't turn nobody out
in sech a night. 'Twuz good ten miles to the ' next
house.
Morton hastened to stable Dolly, and to feed her,
and to take his place by the fire.
Presently the son came in.
"Howdy, stranger.?" said the youth, eyeing Morton
suspiciously. " Is that air your mar in the stable ?"
"Ye-es," said Morton, hesitatingly, uncertain wheth-
er he could call Dolly his or not, seeing she had been
transferred to Burchard.
" Whar did you come from ?"
"From Hissawachee."
"Whar you makin' fer.?"
"I don't exactly know."
"See here, mister! Akordin' to my tell, that air's
a mighty peart sort of a hoss fer a feller to ride what
do-n' know, to save his gizzard, whar he mout be a
travelin'. We don't keep no sich people as them what
rides purty bosses and can't giv no straight account of
theirselves. Akordin' to my tell, you'll hev to hitch up
yer mar and putt. It mout gin us trouble to keep you."
SffOH-T SHRIFT. 145
" You ain't going to send me out such a night as
this, when I've rode fifty mile a'ready?" said Morton.
" What in thunder'd you ride fifty mile to-day fer ?
Yer health, I reckon. Now, stranger, I've jist got one
word to say to you, and that is this ere: Putt! Putt
THiRECKLY ! Clar out of these 'ere diggin's ! That's
all. Jist putt!"
The young man pronounced the vowel in " put "
very flat, as it is sounded in the first syllable of " put-
ty," and seemed disposed to add a great many words
to this emphatic imperative when he saw how much
Morton was disinclined to leave the warm hearth.
" Putt out, I say ! T ain't afeard of none of yer gang.
I hain't got nary 'nother word."
"Well," said Morton, "I have only got one word
I won't! You haven't got any right to turn a stranger
out on such a night."
" Well, then, I'll let the reggilators know abouten
you."
" Let them know, then," said Morton ; and he drew
nearer the fire.
The strapping young fellow straitened himself up
and looked at Morton in wonder, more and more con-
vinced that nobody but an outlaw would venture on a
move so bold, and less and less inclined to attempt to
use force as his conviction of Morton's desperate char-
acter increased. Goodwin, for his part, was not a little
amused; the old mischievous love of fun reasserted
itself in him as he saw the decline of the young man's
courage.
" If you think I am one of Micajah Harp's band,
146 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
why don't you be careful how you treat me ? The
band might give you trouble. Let's have something
to eat. I haven't had anything since last night ; I am
starving."
" Marm," said the young man, " git him sompin'.
He's tuck the house and we can't help ourselves."
Morton had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours,
and in his amusement at the success of his ruse and
in the comfortable enjoyment of food after his long
fast his good spirits returned.
When he awoke the next morning in his rude bed
in the loft, he became aware that there were a num-
ber of men in the room below, and he could gather
that they were talking about him. He dressed quickly
and came down-stairs. The first thing he noticed was
that the settler who had refused him lodging the night
before was the centre of the group, the next that they
had taken possession of his rifle. This settler had
roused the " reggilators," and they had crossed the
creek in a flat-boat some miles below and come up
the stream determined to capture this young horse-
thief. It is a singular tribute to the value of the
horse that among barbarous or half -civilized peoples
horse-stealing is accounted an offense more atrocious
than homicide. In such a community to steal a man's
horse is the grandest of larcenies it is to rob him of
the stepping-stone to civilization.
For such philosophical reflections as this last, how-
ever, Morton had no time. He was in the hands of
an indignant crowd, some of whom had lost horses
and other property from the depredations of the fam-
SHOUT SHRIFT. 147
ous band of Micajah Harp, and all of whom were
bent on exacting the forfeit from this indifferently
dressed young man who rode a horse altogether too
good for him.
Morton was conducted three miles down the river
to a log tavern, that being a public and appropriate
place for the rendering of the decisions of Judge
Lynch, and affording, moreover, the convenient refresh-
ments of whiskey and tobacco to those who might
become .exhausted in their arduous labors on behalf
of public justice. There was no formal trial. The
evidence was given in in a disjointed and spontaneous
fashion ; the jury was composed of the whole crowd,
and what the Quakers call the " sense of the meeting"
was gathered from the general outcry. Educated in
Indian wars and having been left at first without any
courts or forms of justice, the settlers had come to
believe their own expeditious modes of dealing with
the enemies of peace and order much superior to the
prolix method of the lawyers and judges.
And as for Morton, nothing could be much clearer
than that he was one of the gang. The settler who
had refused him a lodging first spoke :
" You see, I seed in three winks," he began, " that
that feller didn't own the hoss. He looked kinder
sheepish. Well, I poked a few questions at him and
I reckon I am the beatin'est man to ax questions in
this neck of timber. I axed him whar he come from,
and he let it out that he'd rid more'n fifty miles..
And I kinder blazed away at praisin' his hoss tell I
got him off his guard, and then, unbeknownst to him,
148 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
I treed him suddently. I jest axed him ef the hoss
was his'n and he hemmed and hawed and says, says
he: 'Well, not exactly mine.' Then I tole him to putt
out."
" Did he tell you the mar wuzn't adzackly his'n .?"
put in the youth whose unwilling hospitality Morton
had enjoyed.
"Yes."
"Well, then, he lied one time or nuther, that's sar-
tain shore. He tole me she wuz. And wheij I axed
him whar he was agoin', he tole me he didn' know. I
suspicioned him then, and I tole him to clar out; and
he wouldn'. . Well, I wuz agoin' to git down my gun
and blow his brains out; but marm got skeered and
didn' want me to, and I 'lowed it was better to let
him stay, and I 'low'd you fellers mout maybe come
over and cotch him, or liker'n not some feller'd come
along and /quie arter that air mar. Then he ups
and says ef the ole woman don' give him sompin' to
eat she'd ketch it from Micajah Harp's band. He
said as how he was a member of that gang. An' he
said he hadn't had nothin' to eat sence the night
before, havin' rid fer twenty-four hours."
" I didn't say " began Morton.
" Shet up your mouth tell I'm done. Haint you
got no manners .' I tole him as how I didn't keer
three continental derns* fer his whole band weth
Micajah Harp throw'd onto the top, but the ole wom-
* A saying having its origin, no doubt, in the worthlessness
of the paper money issued by the Continental Congress.
SHORT SHRIFT. 149
an wuz kinder sorter afeared to find she'd cotch a
rale hoss-thief and she gin him a Uttle sompin' to eat.
And he did gobble it^ I tell you /"
Young rawbones had repeated this statement a
dozen times already since leaving home with the
prisoner. But he liked to tell it. Morton made the
best defense he could, and asked them to send to
Hissawachee and inquire, but the crowd thought that
this was only a ruse to gain time, and that if they
delayed his execution long, Micajah Harp and his
whole band would be upon them.
The mob-court was unanimously in favor of hang-
ing. The cry of " Come on, boys, let's string him
up,'' was raised several times, and " rushes "' at him
were attempted, but these rushes never went further
than the incipient stage, for the very good reason
that while many were anxious ^o have him hung,
none were quite ready to adjust the rope. The law
threatened them on one side, and a dread of the
vengeance of Micajah Harp's cut-throats appalled them
on the other. The predicament in which the crowd
found themselves was a very embarrassing one, but
these administrators of impromptu justice consoled
themselves by whispering that it was best to wait till
night.
And the rawboned young man, who had given
such eager testimony that he "wam't afeard of the
whole gang with ole Micajah throw'd onto the top,"
concluded about noon that he had better go home the
ole woman mout git skeered, you know. She wuz* pow-
erful skeery and mout git fits liker'n not, you know.
150 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
The weary hours of suspense drew on. However
ready Morton may have been to commit suicide in a
moment of rash despair, life looked very attractive to
him now that its duration was measured by the de-
scending sun. And what a quickener of conscience is
the prospect of immediate death ! In these hours the
voice of Kike, reproving him for his reckless living,
rang in his memory ceaselessly. He saw what a dis-
torted failure he had made of life ; he longed for a
chance to try it over again. But unless help should
come from some unexpected quarter, he saw that his
probation was ended.
It is barely possible that the crowd might have be-
come so demoralized by waitinjg as to have let Morton
go, or at least to have handed him over to the au-
thorities, had there not come along at that moment
Mr. Mellen, the stgrn and ungrammatical Methodist
preacher of whom Morton had made so much sport
in Wilkins's Settlement. Having to preach at fifty-
eight appointments in four weeks, he was somewhat
itinerant, and was now hastening to a preaching place
near by. One of the crowd, seeing Mr. Mellen, sug-
gested that Morton had orter be allowed to see a
preacher, and git "fixed up," afore he died. Some of
the others disagreed. They warn't nothin' in the nex'
world too bad fer a hoss-thief, by jeeminy hoe-cakes.
They warn't a stringin' men up to send 'em to heav-
en, but to t' other place.
Mellen was called in, however, and at once recog-
nized Morton as the ungodly young man who had in-
sulted him and disturbed the worship of God. He
SHORT SHRIFT. 151
exhorted him to repent, and to tell who was the own-
er of the horse, and to seek a Saviour who was ready
to forgive even the dying thief upon the cross. In
vain Morton protested -his innocence. Mellen told him
that he could not escape, though he advised the crowd
to hand him over to the sheriff. But Mellen's addi-
tional testimony to Morton's bad character had de-
stroyed his last chance of being given up to the
courts. As soon as Mr. Mellen went away, the ar-
rangements for hanging him at nightfall began, to take
definite shape, and a rope was hung over a limb, in
full sight of the condemned man. Mr. Melleri used
with telling effect, at every one of the fifty-eight places
upon his next round, the story of the sad end of this
hardened young man, who had begun as a scoffer and
ended as an impenitent thief.
Morton sat in a sort of stupor, watching the sun
descending toward the horizon. He heard the rude
voices of the mob about him. But he thought of Patty
and his mother.
While the mob was thus waiting for night, and
Morton waiting for death, there passed upon the road
an elderly man. He was just going out of sight, when
Morton roused himself enough to observe him. When
he had disappeared, Goodwin was haunted with the
notion that it must be Mr. Donaldson, the old Presby-
terian preacher, whose sermons he had so often heard
at the Scotch Settlement. Could it be that thoughts
of home and mother had suggested Donaldson.? At
least, the faintest hope was worth clutching at in a
time of despair.
152
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
"Call him back!" cried Morton. "Won't some-
body call that old man back? He knows me."
Nobody was disposed to serve the culprit. The
A Last Hope.
leaders looked knowingly the one at the other, and
shrugged their shoulders.
" If you don't call him back you will be a set of
murderers !" cried the despairing Goodwin
CHAPTER XVII.
DELIVERANCE.
PARSON DONALDSON was journeying down to
Cincinnati at that time a thriving village of
about two thousand people to attend Presbytery
and to contend manfully against the -sinful laxity of
some of his brethren in the matters of doctrine and
revivals. In previous years Mr. Donaldson had been
beaten a little in his endeavors to have carried through
the extremes! measures against his more progressive
" new-side " brethren. He considered the doctrines of
these zealous Presbyterians as. very little better than
the crazy ranting of the ungrammatical circuit riders.
At the moment of passing the tavern where Morton
sat, condemned to death, he was eagerly engaged in
" laying out " a speech with which he intended to
rout false doctrines and annihilate forever incipient
fanaticism. His square head had fallen forward, and
he only observed that there was a crowd of god-
less and noisy men about the tavern. He could
not spare time to note anything farther, for the fate
of. Zion seemed to hang upon the weight and cogency
of the speech which he meant to deliver at Cincinnati.
He had almost passed out of sight when Morton first
caught sight of him ; and when the young man, find-
ing that no one would go after him, set up a vigorous
calling of his name, Mr. Donaldson did not hear it,
154 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
or at least did not think for an instant that anybody
in that crowd could be calling his own name. How
should he hear Morton's cry ? For just at that
moment he had reached the portion of his argument
in which he triumphantly proved that his new-side
friends, however unconscious they might be of the
fact, were of necessity Pelagians, and, hence, guilty of
fatal error.
Morton's earnest entreaties at last moved one of
the crowd.
" Well, I don't mind," he said ; " I'll call him.
'Pears like as ef he's a-lyin' any how. I don't 'low
as he knows the ole coon, or the ole coon knows him
rliker'n not he's a-foolin' by lettin' on; but 'twont
do no harm to call him back." Saying which, he
mounted his gaunt horse and rode away after Mr.
Donaldson.
" Hello, stranger ! I say, there ! Mister ! O, mister !
Hello, you ole man on horseback ! "
This was the polite manner of address with which
the messenger interrupted the theological meditations
of the worthy Mr. Donaldson at the moment of his
most triumphant anticipations of victory over his
opponents.
" Well, what is it 1 " asked the minister, turning
round on the messenger a little tartly ; much as one
would who is suddenly awakened and not at all pleased
to be awakened.
" They's a feller back here as we tuck up fer a
hoss-thief, and we had three-quarters of a notion of
stringin' on him up ; but he says as how as he knows
DELIVERANCE. 155
you, and ef you kin do him any good, I hope you'll
do it, for I do hate to see a feller being hung, that's
sartain shore."
" A horse-thief says that he knows me ? " said the
parson, not yet fairly awake to the situation. " Indeed .?
I'm in a great hurry. What does he want.' Wants
me to pray with him, I suppose. Well, it is never
too late. God's election is of grace, and often he
seems to select the greatest sinners that he may there-
by magnify his grace and get to himself a great name.
I'll go and see him."
And with that, Donaldson rode back to the tavern,
endeavoring to turn his thoughts out of the polemical
groove in which they had been running all day, that
he might think of some fitting words to say to a
malefactor. But when he stood before the young man
he started with surprise.
" What ! Morton Goodwin ! Have you taken to
stealing horses .' I should have thought that the
unhappy career of your brother, so soon cut short in
God's righteousness, would have been a warning to
you. My dear young man, how could you bring such
disgrace and shame on the gray hairs "
Before Mr. Donaldson had gotten to this point, a
murmur of excitement went through the crowd. They
believed that the prisoner's own witness had turned
against him and that they had a second quasi sanction
from the clergy for the deed of violence they were
meditating. Perceiving this, Morton interrupted the
minister with some impatience, crying out :
"But, Mr. Donaldson, hold on; you have judged
156 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
me too quick. These folks are going to hang me
without any evidence at all, except that I was riding
a good horse. Now, I want you to tell tliem whose
fiUey yon is."
Mr. Donaldson looked at the mare and declared
to the crowd that he had seen this young man riding
that colt for more than a year past, and that if they
were proceeding against him on a charge of stealing
that mare, they were acting most unwarrantably.
" Why couldn't he tell a feller whose mar he had,
and whar he was a-goin' ? " said the man from the
other side of the river.
" I don't know. How did you come here, Morton V
" Well, I'll tell you a straight story. I was gam-
bling on Sunday night "
" Breaking two Commandments at once," broke in
the minister.
" Yes, sir, I know it ; and I lost everything I had
horse and gun and all I seemed clean crazy. I
lost a hundred dollars more'n I had, and I give the
man I was playing with a bill of sale for my horse and
gun. Then he agreed to let me go where I pleased
and keep 'em for six months and I was ashamed
to go home ; so I rode off, like a fool, hoping to find
some place where I could make the money to redeem
my colt with. That's how I didn't give straight
answers about whose horse it was, and where I was
going."
" Well, neighbors, it seems clear to me that you'll
have to let the young man go. You ought to be
thankful that God in his good providence has saved
DELIVERANCE. 157
you from the guilt of those who shed innocent blood.
He is a very respectable young man, indeed, and
often attends church with his mother. I am sorry he
has got into bad habits."
" I'm right glad to git shed of a ugly job," said
one of the party ; and as the rest offered no objection,
he cut the cords that bound Morton's arms and let
him go. The landlord had stabled Dolly and fed her,
hoping that some accident would leave her in his
hands ; the man from the other side of the creek had
taken possession of the rifle as "his sheer, considerin'
the trouble he'd tuck." The horse and gun were now
reluctantly given up, and the party made haste to dis-
perse, each one having suddenly remembered some
duty that demanded immediate attention. In a little
while Morton sat on his horse listening to some very
earnest words from the minister on the sinfulness of
gambling and Sabbath-breaking. But Mr. Donaldson,
having heard of the Methodistic excitement in the
Hissawachee settlement, slipped easily to that, and
urged Morton not to have anything whatever to do
with this mushroom religion, that grew up in a night
and withered in a day. In fact the old man delivered
to Morton most of the speech he had prepared for
the Presbytery on the evil of religious excitements.
Then he shook hands with him, exacted a promise
that he would go directly home, and, with a few sea-
sonable words on God's mercy in rescuing him from
a miserable death, he parted from the young man.
Somehow, after that he did not get on quite so well
with his speech. After all, was it not better, perhaps,
158 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
that this young man should be drawn into the whirl-
pool of a Methodist excitement than that he should
become a gambler? After thinking over it a while,
however, the logical intellect of the preacher luckily-
enabled him to escape this dangerous quicksand, in
reaching the sound conclusion that a religious excite-
ment could only result in spiritual pride and Pela-
gian doctrine, and that the man involved in these
would be lost as certainly as a gambler or a thief.
Now, lest some refined Methodist of the present
day should be a little too severe on our good friend
Mr. Donaldson, I must express my sympathy for the
worthy old gentleman as he goes riding along toward the
scene of conflict. Dear, genteel, and cultivated Meth-
odist reader, you who rejoice in the patristic glory of
Methodism, though you have so far departed from the
standard of the fathers as to wear gold and costly ap-
parel and sing songs and read some novels, be not too
hard upon our good friend Donaldson. Had you, fas-
tidious Methodist friend, who listen to organs and choirs
and refined preachers, as you sit in your cushioned pew
had you lived in Ohio sixty years ago, would you
have belonged to the Methodists, think you? Not at
all ! your nerves would have been racked by their
shouting, your musical and poetical taste outraged by
their ditties, your grammatical knowledge shocked be-
yond recovery by their English ; you could never have
worshiped in an excitement that prostrated people in
religious catalepsy, and threw weak saints and obsti-
nate sinners alike into the contortions of the jerks.
It is easy to build the tombs of the prophets while
DELIVERANCE. 159
you reap the harvest they sowed, and after they have
been already canonized. It is easy to build the tombs
of the early prophets now while we stone the prophets
of.our own time, maybe. Permit me, Methodist t)rother,
to believe that had you lived in the days of Parson
Donaldson, you would have condemned .these rude
Tishbites as sharply as he did. But you would have
been' wrong, as he was. For without them there must
have been barbarism, worse than that of Arkansas and
Texas. Methodism was to the West all that Puritan-
ism was to New England. Both of them are sublime
when considered historically ; neither of them were very
agreeable to live with, maybe.
But, alas ! I am growing as theological as Mr.
Dotnaldson himself. Meantime Morton has forded the
creek at a point more favorable than his crossing of
the night before, and is riding rapidly homeward; and
ever, as he recedes from the scene of his peril and ap-
proaches his home, do the embarrassments of his situ-
ation become more appalling. If he could only be
sure of himself in the future, there would be hope.
But to a nature so energetic as his, there is no action
possible but in a right line and with the whole heart.
In returning, Morton had been directed to follow a
" trace " that led him toward home by a much nearer
way than he had come. After riding twenty miles, he
emerged from the wilderness into a settlement just as
the sun was sitting. It happened that the house where
he found a hospitable supper and lodging was already
set apart for Methodist preaching that evening. After
supper the shuck -bottom chairs and rude benches
160 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
were arranged about the walls, and the intermediate
space was left to be filled by seats which should be
brought in by friendly neighbors. Morton gathered
from the conversation that the preacher was none other
than the celebrated Valentine Cook, who was held in
such esteem that it was even believed that he had a
prophetic inspiration and a miraculous gift of healing.
This " class " had been founded by his preaching, in
the days of his vigor. He had long since given up
" traveling," on account of his health. He was now a
teacher in Kentucky, being, by all odds, the most schol-
arly of the Western itinerants. He had set out on a
journey among the churches with whom he had labor-
ed, seeking to strengthen the hands of the brethren,
who were like a few sheep in the wilderness. The
old Levantine churches did not more heartily welcome
the final visit of Paul the Aged than did the back-
woods churches this farewell tour of Valentine Cook.
Finding himself thus fairly entrapped again by a
Methodist meeting, Morton felt no little agitation.
His mother had heard Cook, in his younger days^ in
Pennsylvania, and he was thus familiar with his fame
as a man and as a preacher. Morton was not only
curious to hear him ; he entertained a faint hope that
the great preacher might lead him out of his embar-
rassment.
After supper Goodwin strolled out through the trees
trying to collect his thoughts ; determined at one
moment to become a Methodist and end his struggles,
seeking, the next, to build a breastwork of resistance
against the sermon that he must hear. Having walked
DELIVERANCE. 161
some distance from the house into the bushes, he
came suddenly upon the preacher himself, kneeling in
earnest audible prayer. So rapt was the old man in
his devotion that he did not note the approach of
Goodwin, until the latter, awed at sight of a man
talking face to face with God, stopped, trembling,
where he stood. Cook then saw him, and, arising,
reached out his hand to the young man, saying in a
voice tremulous with emotion : " Be thou faithful unto
death, and I will give thee a crown of life." Morton
endeavored, in a few stammering words, to explain
his accidental intrusion, but the venerable man seemed
almost at once to have forgotten his presence, for
he had taken his seat upon a log and appeared
absorbed in thought. Morton retreated just in time
to secure a place in the cabin, now almost full. The
members of the church, men and women, as they
entered, knelt in silent prayer before taking their seats.
Hardly silent either, for the old Methodist could do
nothing without noise, and even while he knelt in
what he considered silent prayer, he burst forth con-
tinually in audible ejaculations of " Ah ah ! " " O
my Lord, help!" "Hah!" and other groaning expres-
sions of his inward wrestling groanings easily uttered,
but entirely without a possible orthography. With
most, this was the simple habit of an uncultivated and
unreserved nature ; in later times the ostentatious and
hypocritical did not fail to cultivate it as an evidence
of superior piety.
But now the room is full. People are crowding
the doorways. The good old-class leader has shut his
162 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
eyes and turned his face heavenward. Presently he
strikes up lustily, leading the congregation in singing:
"How tedious and tasteless the hours
When Jesus no longer I see !"
When he reached the stanza that declares :
" While blest with a sense of his love
A palace a toy would appear ;
And prisons would palaces prove,
If Jesus would dwell with me there,''
there were shouts of " Halleluiah !" " Praise the Lord ! "
and so forth. At the last quatrain, which runs,
" O ! drive these dark clouds from my sky !
Thy soul-cheering presence restore ;
Or take. me to thee up on high.
Where winter and clouds are no more ! "
there were the heartiest " Amens," though they must
have been spoken in a poetic sense. I cannot believe
that any of the excellent brethren, even in that
moment of exaltation, would really have desired
translation to the world beyond the clouds.
The preacher, in his meditations, had forgotten his
congregation a very common bit of absent-minded-
ness with Valentine Cook ; and so, when this hymn
was finished, a sister, with a rich but uncultivated
soprano, started, to the tune called " Indian Philos-
opher," that inspiring son^ which begins :
" Come on, my partners in distress,
My comrades in this wilderness.
Who still your bodies feel ;
Awhile forget your griefs and tears.
Look forward through this vale of tears
To that celestial hill."
DELIVERANCE. 163
The hymn was long, and by the time it was com-
pleted the preacher, having suddenly come to himself,
entered hurriedly, and pushed forward to the place
arranged for him. The festoons of dried pumpkin
hanging from the joists reached nearly to his head;
a tallow dip, sitting in the window, shed a feeble
light upon his face as he stood there, tall, gaunt,
awkward, weather-beaten, with deep-sunken, weird,
hazel eyes, a low forehead, a prominent nose, coarse
black hair resisting yet the approach of age, and a
tout ensemble unpromising, but peculiar. He began
immediately to repeat his hymn :
" I saw one hanging on a tree
In agony and blood ;
He fixed his languid eye on me,
As near the cross I stood."
His tone was monotonous, his eyes seemed to have
a fascination, and the pathos of his voice, quivering _
with suppressed emotion, was indescribable. Before
his prayer was concluded the enthusiastic Morton felt
that he could follow such a leader to the world's end.
He repeated his text: "Behold^ the day cometh" and
launched at once into a strongly impressive introduc-
tion about the all-pervading presence of God, until the
whole house seemed full of God, and Morton found
himself breathing fearfully, with a sense of God's pres-
ence and ineffable holiness. Then he took up that
never-failing theme of the pioneer preacher the sin-
fulness of sin and there were suppressed cries of
anguish over the whole house. Morton could hardly
feel more contempt for himself than he had felt for
164 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
two days past ; but when the preacher advanced to
his climax of the Atonement and the Forgiveness of
Sins, Goodwin felt himself carried away as with a flood.
In that hour, with God around, above, beneath, without
and within with a feeling that since his escape he
held his life by a sort of reprieve with the inspiring
and persuasive accents of this weird prophet ringing
in his ears, he .cast behind him all human loves, all
ambitious purposes, all recollections of theological puz-
zles, and set himself to a self-denying life. With one
final battle he closed his conflict about Patty. He
would do right at all hazards.
Morton never had other conversion than this. He
could not tell of such a struggle as Kike's. All he
knew was that there had been conflict. When once
he decided, there was harmony and peace. When Val-
entine Cook had concluded his rapt peroration, setting
the whole house ablaze with feeling, and then pro-
ceeded to " open the doors of the church " by singing,
"Am I a soldier of the Cross, ^
A follower of the Lamb,
And shall I fear to own his. cause,
Or blush to speak his name?"
it was with a sort of military exaltation a defiance
of the world, the flesh, and the devil that Morton
went forward and took the hand of the preacher, as
a sign that he solemnly enrolled himself among those
who meant to
" conquer though they die."
He was accustomed to say in after years, using*
DELIVERANCE. 165
the Methodist phraseology, that " God spoke peace
to his soul the moment he made up his mind to give
up all." That God does speak to the heart of man
in its great crises I cannot doubt ; but God works
with, and not against, the laws of mind. When Mor-
ton ceased to contend with his highest impulses there
was no more discord, and he was of too healthful and
objective a temperament to have subjective fights with
fanciful ApoUyons. When peace came he accepted it.
One of the old brethren who crowded round him that
night and questioned him about his experience was
" afeard it warn't a rale deep conversion. They wuzn't
wras'lin' and strugglin' enough." But the wise Valen-
tine Cook said, when he took Morton's hand to say
good-bye, and looked into his clear blue eye, " Hold
fast the beginning of thy confidence, brother."
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE PRODIGAL RETURNS.
AT last the knigHt was in the saddle. Much as
Morton grieved when he thought of Patty, he
rejoiced now in the wholeness of his moral purpose.
Vacillation was over. He was ready to fight, to
sacrifice, to die, for a good cause. It had been the
dream of his boyhpod ; it had been the longing of
his youth, marred and disfigured by irregularities as
his youth had been. In the early twilight of the
winter morning he rode bravely toward his first battle
field, and, as was his wont in moments of cheerfulness,
he sang. But not now the " Highland Mary," or
" Ca' the yowe's to the knowes," but a hymn of
Charles Wesley's he had heard Cook sing the night
before, some stanzas of which had strongly impressed
him and accorded exactly with his new mood, and
his anticipation of trouble and the loss of Patty,
perhaps, from his religious life :
" In hope of that immortal crown
I now the Cross sustain,
And gladly wander up and down,
And smile at toil and pain ;
I suffer oji my threescore years,
Till my Deliv'rer come
THE PRODIGAL RETURNS. 167
And wipe away his servant's tears,
And take his exile home.
" O, what are all my sufferings here
If, Lord, thou count me meet
With that enraptured host to appear
And worship at thy feet !
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away.
But let me find them all again,
In that eternal day."
Long before he had reached Hissawachee he had
ceased to sing. He was painfully endeavoring to
imagine how he would be received at home and at
Captain Lumsden's.
At home, the wan mother sat in the dull winter
twilight, trying to keep her heart from fainting en-
tirely. The story of Morton's losses at cards had
quickly reached the settlement with the easy addition
that he had fled to escape paying his debt of dis-
honor, and had carried off the horse and gun which
another had won from him in gambling. This last,
the mother steadily refused to believe. It could not
be that Morton would quench all the manly impulses
of his youth and follow in the steps of his prodigal
brother, Lewis. For Morton was such a boy as Lewis
had never been, and the thought of his deserting his
home and falling finally into bad practices, had brought
to Mrs. Goodwin an agony that was next door to
heart-break. Job Goodwin had abandoned all work
and taken to his congenial employment of sighing
168 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
and croaking in the chimney-corner, building innumer-
able Castles of Doubt for the Giant Despair.
Mrs. Wheeler came in to comfort her friend.
" I am sure, Mrs. Goodwin," shfe said, " Morton will
yet be saved ; I have been enabled to pray for him
with faith."
In spite of her sorrow, Mrs. Goodwin could not
help thinking that it was very inconsistent for an
Arminian to believe that God would convert a man
in answer to prayer, when Arminians professed to
believe that a man could be a Christian or not as he
pleased. Willing, however, to lay the bUme of her
misfortune on anybody but Morton, she said, half
peevishly, that she wished the Methodists had never
come to the settlement. Morton had been in a hope-
ful state of mind, and they had driven him to wicked-
ness. Otherwise he would doubtless have been a
Christian by this time.
And now Mrs. Wheeler, on her part, thought
but did not say that it was most absurd for Mrs.
Goodwin to complain of anything having driven
Morton away from salvation, since, according to her
Calvinistic doctrine, he must be saved anyhow if he
were elected. It is so easy to be inconsistent when
we try to reason about God's relation to his creatures ;
and so easy to see absurdity in any creed but our
own !
The twilight deepened, and Mrs. Goodwin, unable
now to endure the darkness, lit her candle. Then
there was a knock at the door. Ever since Sunday
the mother, waiting between hope and despair, had
THE PRODIGAL RETURNS. 169
turned pale at every sound of footsteps without. Now
she called out, "Come in!" in a broken voice, and
Mr. Brady entered, having just dismissed his school
" Troth, me dair inadam, it's not meself that can
give comfort. I'm sure to say something not intoirely
proper to the occasion, whiniver I talk to anybody in
throuble something that jars loike a varb that disa-
grees with its nominative in number and parson, as I
may say. But I thought I ought to come and say
you, and till you as I don't belave Moirton would do
anything very bad, an' I'm shoore he'll be home afore
the wake's out. I've soiphered it out by the Rule of
Thray. As Moirton Goodwin wuz to his other throu-
bles comin' out all roight so is Moiiton Goodwin to
his present dif/?fulties. If the first term and the third
is the same, then the sicond and the fourth has got
to be idintical. Perhaps I'm talkin' too lamed; but
you're an eddicated woman, Mrs. Goodwin, and you
can say that me dimonsthration's entoirely corrict.
Moirton '11 fetch the answer set down in the book
ivery toime, without any remainder or mistake. Thair's
no vulgar fractions about him."
" Fractious, did you say 1" spoke in Job Goodwin,
who had held his hand up to his best ear, to hear
what Brady was saying. " No, I don't 'low he was
fractious, fer the mos' part. But he's gone now, and
he'll git killed like Lew did, and we'll all hev the
fever, and then they'll be a war weth the Bridish, and
the Injuns '11 be on us, and it 'pears like as if they
wa'n't no eend of troubles a-comin'. Hey.?"
At that very moment the latch was jerked up and
170 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Henry came bursting into the room, gasping from ex-
citement.
"What is it? Injuns?" asked Mr. Goodwin, get-
ting to his feet.
But Henry gasped again.
"Spake!" said Brady. "Out wid it!"
" Mort's a-puttin' Dolly in the stable !" said the
breathless boy.
"Dolly's in the stable, did you say?" queried Job
Goodwin, sitting down again hopelessly. "Then some-
body^ Injuns, robbers, or somebody 's killed Mort,
and she's found her way back !"
While Mr. Goodwin was speaking, Mrs. Wheeler
slipped out of the open door, that she might not in-
trude upon the meeting; but Brady oral newspaper
that he was waited, with the true journalistic spirit,
for an interview. Hardly had Job Goodwin finished
his doleful speech, when Morton himself crossed the
threshold and reached out his hand to his mother,
while she reached out both hands and did what
mothers have done for returning prodigals since the
world was made. Her husband stood by bewildered,
trying to collect his wits enough to understand how
Morton could have been murdered by robbers or
Indians and yet stand there. Not until the mother
released him, and Morton turned and shook hands
with his father, did the father get rid of the illusion
that his son was certainly dead.
"Well, Moirton," said Brady, coming out of the
shadow, " I'm roight glad to see ye back. I tould 'em
ye'd bay home to-noight, maybe. I soiphered it out
THE PRODIGAL RETURNS. \^\
by the Single Rule of Thray that ye'd git back about
this toime. One day fer sinnin', one day fer throyin'
to run away from yersilf, one day for repintance, and
the nixt the prodigal son falls on his mother's neck
and confisses his sins."
Morton was glad to find Brady present; he was a
safeguard against too much of a scene. And to avoid
speaking of subjects more unpleasant, he plunged at
once into an account of his adventure at Brewer's
Hole, and of his arrest for stealing his own horse.
Then he told how he had escaped by the good offices
of Mr. Donaldson. Mrs. Goodwin was secretly de-
lighted at this. It was a new bond between the young
man and the minister, and now at last she should see
Morton converted. The religious experience Morton
reserved. He wanted to break it to his mother alone,
and iie wanted to be the first to speak of it to Patty.
And so it happened that Brady, having gotten, as he
supposed, a full account of Morton's adventures, and
being eager to tell so choice and fresh a story, found
himself unable to stay longer. But just as he reached
the door, it occurred to him that if he did not tell
Morton at once what had happened in his absence,
some one else would anticipate him. He had sole pos-
session of Morton's adventure anyhow; so he straight-
ened himself up against the door and said :
"An' did ye hear what happened to Koike, the
whoile ye was gone, Moirton ?"
" Nothing bad, I hope," said Morton.
"Ye may belave it was bad, or ye may take it to
be good, as ye plase. Ye know how Koike was bilin'
172 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
over to shoot his uncle, afore ye went away in the
fall. Will, on'y yisterday the Captin he jist met
Koike in the road, and gives him some hard words far
sayin' what he did to ^im last Sunthay. An' fwat
does Koike do but bowidly begins another exhortation,
tellin' the Captin he was a sinner as desarved to go
to hill, an' that he'd git there if he didn't whale about
and take the other thrack. An' fwat does the Captin
do but up wid the flat of his hand and boxes Koike's
jaw. An' I thought Koike would 'a' sarved him as
Magruder did Jake Sniger. But not a bit of it ! He
fired up rid, and thin got pale immaj lately. Thin he
turned round t'other soide of his face, and, wid a
thremblin' voice, axed the Captin if he didn't want to
slap that chake too.' An' the Captin swore at him
fer a hypocrite, and thin put out for home wid the
jerks; an' he's been a-lookin' loike a sintince that
couldn' be parsed iver sence."
" I wonder Kike bore it. I don't think I could,"
said Morton, meditatively.
" Av coorse ye couldn't. Ye 're not a convarted
Mithodist. But I must be goin'. I'm a-boardin' at
the Captin's now."
CHAPTER XIX.
PATTY'S whole education tended to foster her pride,
and in Patty's circumstances pride was conserva-
tive ; it saved' her from possible assimilation with the
vulgarity about her. She was a lily among hollyhocks.
Her mother had come of an " old family " in truth,
of two or three old families. All of them had consid-
ered that attachment to the Established Church was
part and parcel of their gentility, and most of them
had been staunch Tories in the Revolution. Patty
had inherited from her" mother refinement, 'pride, and
a certain lofty inflexibility of disposition. In this con-
genial soil Mrs.- Lumsden had planted traditional prej-
udices. Patty read her Prayer-book, and wished that
she might once attend the stately Episcopal service;
she disliked the lowness of all the sects: the sing-song
of the Baptist preacher and the rant of the Methodist
itinerant were equally distasteful. She had never seen
a clergyman in robes, but she tried, from her mother's
descriptions, to form a mental picture of the long-
drawn dignity of the service in an Old Virginia country
church. Patty was imaginative, like most girls of her
age; but her ideals were ruled by the pride in which
she had been cradled.
For the Methodists- she entertained a peculiar aver-
1-74 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
sipn. Methodism was new, and, like everything new,
lacked traditions, picturesqueness, mustiness, and all
the other essentials of gentility in religious matters.
The converts were rude, vulgar, and poor ; the preach-
ers were illiterate, and often rough in voice and
speech ; they made war on dancing and jewelry, and
dancing and jewelry appertained to good -breeding.
Ever since her father had been taken with that strange
disorder called "the jerks," she had hated the Meth-
odists worse than ever. They had made a direct
attack on her pride.
The story of Morton's gambling had duly reached
the ears of Patty. The thoughtful unkindness of her
father could not leave her without so delectable a
morsel of news. He felt sure that Patty's pride
would be outraged by conduct so reckless, and he
omitted nothing from the tale the loss of horse and
gun, the offer to stake his hat and coat, the proposal
to commit suicide, the flight upon the forfeited horse
such were the items of Captain Lumsden's story. He
told it at the table in order to mortify Patty as much
as possible in the presence of her brothers and sisters
and the hired men. But the effect was quite different
from his expectations. With that inconsistency char-
acteristic of the most sensible women when they are
in love, Patty only pitied Morton's misfortunes. She
saw him, in her imagination, a hapless and homeless
wanderer. She would not abandon him in his mis-
fortunes. He should have one friend a,t least. She
was sorry he had gambled, but gambling was not
inconsistent with gentlemanliness. She had often
PATTY. 175
heard that her mother would have inherited a planta-
tion if her grandfather had been able to let cards
alone. Gambling was the vice of gentlemen, a gen-
erous and impulsive weakness. Then, too, she laid
the blame on her favorite scape-goat. If it had not
been for Kike's exciting exhortation and the incon-
siderate violence of the Methodist revival, Morton's
misfortune would not have befallen him. Patty for-
gave in advance. Love condones all sins except sins
against love.
It was with more than his usual enjoyment of
gossip that the school-master hurried home to the
Captain's that evening to tell the story of Morton's
return, and to boast that he had already soiphered it
out by the single Rule of Thray that Moirton would
come out roight. The Captain, as he ate his waffles
with country molasses, slurred the whole thing, and
wanted to know if he was going to refuse to pay a
debt of honor and keep the mare, when he had fairly
lost her gambling with Burchard. But Patty inly
resolved to show her lover more affection than ever.
She would make him feel that her love would be
constant when the friendship" of others failed. She
liked to flatter herself, as other young women have to
their cost, that her love would reform her lover.
Patty knew he- would come. She went about her
work next morning, humming some trifling air, that
she might seem nonchalant. But after awhile she
happened to think that her humming was an indica-
tion of pre-occupation. So she ceased to hum. Then
she remembered that people would certainly interpret
1-76 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
silence as indicative of meditation ; she immediately
fell a-talking with might and main, until one of the
younger girls asked : " What does make Patty talk so
much ?" Upon which, Patty ceased to talk and went
to work harder than ever; but, being afraid that the
eagerness with which she worked would betray her,
she tried to work more slowly until that was observed.
The very devices by which we seek to hide mental
pre-occupation generally reveal it.
At last Patty was fain to betake herself to the
loom-room, where she could think without having her
thoughts guessed at. Here, too, she would be alone
when Morton should come.
Poor Morton, having told his mother of his relig-
ious change, found it hard indeed to tell Patty. But
he counted certainly that she would censure him for
gambling, which wou.ld make it so much easier for
him to explain to her that the only way for him to
escape from vice was to join the Methodists, and thus
give up all to a better life. He shaped some sen-
tences founded upon this supposition. But after all
his effort at courage, and all his praying for grace to
help him to "confess Christ before men," he found
the cross exceedingly hard to bear; and when he set
his foot upon the threshold of the loom-room, his
heart was in his mouth and his face was suffused with
guilty blushes. Ah, weak nature ! He was not blush-
ing for his sins, but for his repentance !
Patty, seeing his confusion, determined to make
him feel how full of forgiveness love was. She saw
nobleness in his very shame, and she generously
PATTY. 177
resolved that she would not ask, that she would not
allow, a confession. She extended her hand cordially
and beamed upon him, and told him how glad she
was that he had come back, and and ^well ; she
couldn't find anything else to say, but she urged him
to sit down and handed him a splint-bottom chair,
and tried for the life of her to think of something to
say the silence was so embarrassing. But talking for
talk's sake is always hard. One talks as one breathes
best when volition has nothing to do with it.
The silence was embarrassing to Morton, but not
half so much so as Patty's talk. For he had not
expected this sort of an opening. If she had accused
him of gambling, if she had spurned him, the road
would have been plain. But now that she loved him
and forgave him of her own sweet generosity, how
should he smite her pride in the face by telling her
that he had joined himself to the illiterate, vulgar
fanatical sect of ranting Methodists, whom she utterly
despised ? Truly the Enemy had set an unexpected
snare for his. unwary feet. He had resolved to con-
fess his religious devotion with heroic courage, but he
had not expected to be disarmed in this fashion. He
talked about everything else, he temporized, he allowed
her to turn the conversation as she would, hoping
vainly that she would allude to his gambling. But
she did not. Could it be that she had not heard of
it? Must he then reveal that to her also.?
While he was debating the question in his mind,
Patty, imagining that he was reproaching himself for
the sin and folly of gambling, began to. talk of what
178 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
had happened in the neighborhood how Jake Sniger
"fell with the power" on Sunday and got drunk on
Tuesday : " that's all this Methodist fuss amounts to,
you know," she said. Morton thought it ungracious to
blurt out at this moment that he was a Methodist :
there would be an air of contradiction in the avowal ;
so he sat still while Patty turned all the sobbing and
sighing, and shouting and loud praying of the meet-
ings into ridicule. And Morton became conscious
that it was getting every minute more and more diffi-
cult for him to confess his conversion. He thought it
better to return to his gambling for a starting point.
" Did you hear what a bad boy I've been, Patty .?"
" Oh ! yes. I'm sorry you got into such a bad
scrape ; but don't say any more about it, Morton.
You're too good for me with all your f.ults, and you
won't do it any more." '
" But I want to tell you all about it, and what
happened while I was gone. I'm afraid you'll think
too hard of me "
" But I don't think hard of you at all, and I don't
want to hear about it because it is n't pleasant. It'll
all come out right at last: I'd a great deal rather
have you a little wild at first than a hard Methodist,
like Kike, for instance."
" But"
" I tell you, Morton, I won't hear a word. Not
one word. I want you to feel that whatever anybody
else may say, I know you're all right."
You think Morton very weak. But, do you know
how exceedingly sweet is confidence from one you
PATTY. 179
love, when there is only censure, and suspicion, and
dark predictions of evil from everybody else ? Poor
Morton could not refuse to bask in the sunshine for
a' moment after so much of storm. It is not the north
wind, but the southern breezes that are fatal to the
ice-berg's voyage into sunny climes.
At last he rose to go. He felt himself a Peter.
He had denied the Master !
"Patty," he said, with resolution, "I have not
been honest with you. I meant to tell you something
when I first came, and I didn't. It is hard to have
to give up your love. But I'm afraid you won't care
for me when I tell you "
The severity of Morton's penitence only touched
Patty the more deeply.
" Morton," she said, interrupting, " if you've done
anything naughty, I forgive you without knowing it.
But I don't want to hear any more about it, I tell
you." And with that the blushing Patty held her
cheek up for her betrothed to kiss, and when Morion,
trembling with conflicting emotions, had kissed her for
the first time, she slipped away quickly to prevent his
making any painful confessions.
For a moment Morton stood charmed with her
goodness. When he believed himself to have con-
quered, he found himself vanquished.
In a dazed sort of way he walked the greater part
of the distance home. He might write to her about
it. He might let her hear it from others. But he
rejected both as unworthy of a man. The memory of
the kiss thrilled him, and he was tempted to throw
180 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
away his Methodism and rejoice in the love of Patty,
now Sb assured. But suddenly he seemed to himself
to be another Judas. He had not denied the Lord
he had betrayed him ; and with a kiss !
Horrified by this thought, Morton hastened back
toward Captain Lumsden's. He entered the loom-
room, but it was vacant. He went into the living-
room, and there he saw not Patty alone, but the whole
family. Captain Lumsden had at that moment entered
by the opposite door. Patty was carding wool with
hand-cards, and she looked up, startled at this re-
appearance of her lover when she thought him happily
dismissed.
" Patty," said Morton, determined not to fall into
any devil's snare by delay, and to atone for his great
sin by making his profession as public as possible,
" Patty, what I wanted to say was, that I have deter-
mined to be a Christian, and I have joined the
Methodist Church. "
Morton's sense of inner conflict gave this utterance
an unfortunate sound of defiance, and it aroused all
Patty's combativeness. It was in fact a death wound
to her pride. She had feared sometimes that Morton
would be drawn into Methodism, but that he should
join the despised sect without so much as consulting
her was more than she could bear. This, then, was the
way in which her forbearance and forgiveness were
rewarded ! There stood her father, sneering like a
Mephistopheles. She would resent the indignity, and
at the same time show her power over her lover.
" Morton, if you are a Methodist, I never want to
PATTY.
181
see you again." she said, with lofty pride, and a
solemn awfulness of passion more terrible than an
oath.
" Don't say that, Patty ! " stammered Morton,
stretching his hands out in eager, despairing entreaty.
But this only gave Patty the greater assurance that a
little decision on her part would make him give up
his Methodism.
The Choice.
" I do say it, Morton, and I will never take
it back." There was a sternness in the white face
182 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
and a fire in the black eyes that left Morton no
hope.
But he straightened himself up now to his full six
feet, and said, with manly stubbornness : " Then, Patty,
since you make me choose, I shall not give up the
Lord, even for you. But," he added, with a broken
voice, as he turned away, " may God help me to
bear it."
Ah, Matilda Maria! if Morton were a knight in
armor giving up his ladye love for the sake of mon-
astic religiousness, how admirable he would be ! But
even in his homespun he is a man making the great-
est of sacrifices. It is not the garb or the age that
makes sublime a soul's offering of heart and hope to
duty. When Morton was gone Lumsden chuckled
not a little, and undertook to praise Patty for her
courage; but I have understood that she resented his
compliments, and poured upon him some severe de-
nunciation, in which the Captain heard more truth
than even Kike had ventured to utter. Such are
the inconsistencies of a woman when her heart is
wounded.
It seems a trifle to tell just here, when Mbrton
and Patty are in trouble but you will want to know
about Brady. He was at Colonel Wheeler's that
evening, eagerly telling of Morton's escape from lynch-
ing, when Mrs. Wheeler expressed her gratification that
Morton had ceased to gamble and become a Meth-
odist.
"Mithodist? He's no Mithodist."
" Yes, he is," responded Mrs. Wheeler, " his mother
PATTY. 183
told me so ; and what's more, she said she was glad
of it." Then, seeing Brady's discomfiture, she added:
"You didn't get all the news that time, Mr. Brady."
" Well, me dair madam, when I'm admithed to a
family intervoo, it's not proper fer me to tell all I
heerd. I didn't know the fact was made public yit,
and so I had to denoy it. It's the honor of a Oirish
gintleman, ye know."
What a journalist he would have made !
CHAPTER XX.
THE CONFERENCE AT HICKORY RIDGE.
MORE than two years have passed since Morton
made his great sacrifice. You may see him
now riding up to the Hickory Ridge Church a ,
" hewed-log " country meeting-house. He is dressed
in homespun clothes. At the risk of conipromising him
forever, I must confess that his coat is straight-
breasted shad-bellied as the profane call it and his
best hat a white one with a broad brim. The face
is still fresh, despite the conflicts and hardships of one
year's travel in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky,
and the sickness and exposure of another year in the
malarious cane-brakes of Western Tennessee. Perils of
Indians, perils of floods, perils of alligators, perils of
bad food, perils of cold beds, perils of robbers, perils
of rowdies, perils of fevers, and the weariness of five
thousand miles of horseback riding in a year, with five
or six hundred preachings in the same time, and the
care of numberless Scattered churches in the wilder-
ness have conspired to give Sedateness to his counte-
nance. And yet there is a youthfulness about the
sun-browned cheeks, and a lingering expression of that
sort of humor which Western people call "mischief"
about the eyes, that match but grotesquely with white
hat and shad-bellied coat.
THE CONFERENCE AT HICKORY RIDGE. 185
He has been a preacher almost ever since he
became a Methodist. How did he get his theological
Going to Conference.
education ? It used to be said that Methodist preach-
ers were educated by the old ones telling the young
ones all they knew; but besides this oral instruction
Morton carried in his saddle-bags John Wesley's simple,
solid sermons, Charles Wesley's hymns, and a Bible.
Having little of the theory and system of theology, he
was free to take lessons in the larger school of life
186 THE CIRCUIT KIDER.
and practical observation. For the rest, the free criti-
cism to which he was subject from other preachers,
and the contact with a few families of refinement, had
obliterated his dialect. Naturally a gentleman at heart,
he had, from the few stately gentlemen that he met,
quickly learned to be a gentleman in manners. He is
regarded as a young man of great promise by the older
brethren; his clear voice is very charming, his strong
and manly speech and his tender feeling are very in-
spiring, and on his two circuits he has reported extra-
ordinary revivals. Some of the old men sagely predict
that "he's got bishop-timber in him," but no such
ambitious dreams disturb his sleep. He has not "gone
into a decline " on account of Patty. A healthy
nature will bear heavy blows. But there is a pain,
somewhere everywhere in his being, when he thinks
of the girl who stood just above him in the spell-
ing-class, and who looked so divine' when she was
spinning her two dozen cuts a day. He does not like
this regretful feeling. He prays to be forgiven for it.
He acknowledges in class-meeting and in love-feast
that he is too much like Lot's wife he finds his heart
prone to look back toward the objects he once loved.
Often in riding through the stillness of a deep forest
and the primeval forest is to him the peculiar abode
of the Almighty his noble voice rings out fervently
and even pathetically with that stanza :
" The dearest idol I have known,
Whate'er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from thy throne
And worship only Thee !"
THE CONFERENCE AT HICKORY RIDGE. 187
No man can enjoy a joke with more zest than he,
and none can tell a story more effectively in a genera-
tion of preachers who are all good story-tellers. He
loves his work ; its dangers and difficulties satisfy the
ambition of his boyhood ; and he has had no misgivings,
except when once or twice he has revisited his parents in
the Hissawachee Bottom. Then the longing to see
Patty has seized him and he has been fain to hurry away,
praying to be delivered from every snare of the enemy.
He is not the only man in a straight-breasted coat
who is approaching the country meeting-house. It is
conference-time, and the greetings are hearty and fa-
miliar. Everybody is glad to see everybody, and,
after a year of separation, nobody can afford to stand
on ceremony with anybody else. Morton has hardly
alighted before half a dozen preachers have rushed up
to him and taken him by the hand. A tall brother,
with a grotesque twitch in his face, cries out :
"How do you do. Brother Goodwin? Glad to see
the alligators haven't finished you!"
To which Morton returns a laughing reply; but
suddenly he sees, standing back of the rest and wait-
ing his turn, a young man with a solemn, sallow face,
pinched by sickness and exposure, and bordered by
the straight black hair that falls on each side of it.
He wears over his clothes a blanket with arm-holes
cut through, and seems to be perpetually awaiting an
ague-chill. Seeing him, Morton pushes the rest aside,
and catches the wan hand in both of his own with a
cry : " Kike, God bless you ! How are you, dear old
fellow.' You look sick."
188 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Kike smiled faintly, and Morton threw his arm over
his shoulder and looked in his face. "I am sick,
Mort. Cast down, but not destroyed, you know. I
hope I am ready to be offered up."
"Not a bit of it. You've. got to get b.etter. Of-
fered up ? Why, you aren't fit to offer to an alligator.
Where are you staying.?"
" Out there." Kike pointed to the tents of a
camp-meetipg barely visible through the trees. The
people in the neighborhood of the Hickory Ridge
Church, being unable to entertain the Conference in
their homes, had resorted to the device of getting up
a camp - meeting. It was easier to take care of the
preachers out of doors than in. Morton shook his
head as he walked with Kike to the thin canvas tent
under which he had been assigned to sleep. The
white spot on the end of Kike's nose and the blue
lines under his finger-nails told plainly of the on-com-
ing chill, and Morton hurried away to find some bet-
ter shelter for him than under this thin sheet. But
this was hard to -do. The few brethren in the neigh-
borhood had already filled their cabins full of guests,
mostly in infirm health, and Kike, being one of the
younger men, renowned only for his piety and his re-
vivals, had not been thought of for a place elsewhere
than on the camp-ground. Finding it impossible to
get a more comfortable resting place for his friend,
Morton turned to seek for a physician. The only doc-
tor in the neighborhood was a Presbyterian minister, re-
tired from the ministry on account of his irnpaired health.
To him Morton went to ask for medicine for Kike.
THE CONFERENCE AT HICKORY RIDGE. 189
" Dr. Morgan, there is a preacher sick down at
the camp-ground," said Morton, " and "
"And you. want me to see him," said the doctor,
in an alert, anticipative fashion, seizing his " pill-bags "
and donning his hat.
When the tWo rode up to the tent in which Kike
was lodged they found a prayer-meeting of a very
exciting kind going on in the tent adjoining. There
were cries and groans and amens and hallelujahs com-
mingled in a way quite intelligible to the experienced
ear of Morton, but quite unendurable to the orderly
doctor.
"A bad place for a sick man, sir," he said to
Morton, with great positiveness.
" I know it is, doctor," said Morton ; " and I've
done my best to get him out of it, but I cannot. See
how thin this tent-cover is."
" And the malaria of these woods is awful. Camp-
meetings, sir, are always bad. And this fuss is
enough to drive a patient crazy."
Morton thought the doctor prejudiced, but he said
nothing. They had now reached the comer of the
tent where Kike lay on a straw pallet, holding his
hands to his head. The noise from the prayer-meet-
ing was more than his weary brain would bear.
" Can you sit on my horse .'" said the doctor,
promptly proceeding to lift Kike without even explain-
ing to him who he was, or where he proposed to take
him.
Morton helped to place Kike in the saddle, but
the poor fellow was shaking so that he could not sit
190 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
there. Morton then brought out Dolly she was all
his own now and took the slight form of Kike in
his arms, he riding on the croup, and the sick man
in the saddle.
"Where shall I ride to, doctor.'"
" To my house," said the doctor, mounting his own
horse and spurring off to have a bed made ready for
Kike.
As Morton rode up to the doctor's gate, the shaking
Kike roused a little and said, " She's the same fine old
Dolly, Mort."
" A little more sober. The long rides in the cane-
brakes, and the responsibility of the Methodist itiner-
ancy, have given her the gravity that belongs to the
ministry."
Such a bed as Kike found in Dr. Morgan's house !
After the rude bear-skins upon which he had languished
in the backwoods cabins, after the musty feather-beds
in freezing lofts, and the pallets of leaves upon which
he had shivered and scorched and fought fleas and
musquitoes, this clean white bed was like a foretaste
of heaven. But Kike was almost too sick to be
grateful. The poor frame had been kept up by will so
long, that now that he was in a good bed and had
Morton he felt that he could afford to be sick. What
had been ague settled into that wearisome disease
called bilious fever. Morton staid by him nearly all
of the time, looking into the conference now and then
to see the venerable Asbury in the chair, listening to
a grand speech from McKendree, attending on the
third day of the session, when, with the others who had
THE CONFERENCE AT HICKORY RIDGE. 191
been preaching two years on probation, he was called
forward to answer the " Questions " always propounded
to " Candidates for admission to the conference." Kike
only was missing from the list of those who were to
have heard the bishop's exhortations, full of martial
fire, and to have answered his questions in regard to
their spiritual state. For above all gifts of speech or
depths of learning, or acuteness of reasoning, the early
Methodists esteemed devout affections ; and no man was
of account for the ministry who was not " groaning to
be made perfect in this life." The question stands
in the -discipline yet, but very many young men who
assent to it groan after nothing so much as a city
church with full galleries.
The strange mystery in which appointments were
involved could not but pique curiosity. Morton having
had one year of mountains, and one year of cane-
brakes, had come to wish for one year of a little more
comfort, and a little better support. There is a
romance about going threadbare and tattered in a
good cause, but even the romance gets threadbare
and tattered if it last too long, and one wishes for a
little sober reality of warm clothes to relieve a romance,
charming enough in itself, but dull when it grows
monotonous.
The awful hour of appointments came on at last.
The brave-hearted men sat down before the bishop,
and before God, not knowing what was to be their
fate. Morton could not guess where he was going. A
miasmatic cane-brake, or a deadly cypress swamp, might
be his doom, or he might but no, he would not hope
192 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
that his lot might fall in Ohio. He was a young man,
and a young man must take his chances. Morton
found himself more anxious about Kike than about
himself. Where would the bishop send the invalid ?
With Kike it might be a matter of life and death, and
Kike would not hear to being left without work. He
meant, 'he said, to cease at once to work and live.
The brethren, still in sublime ignorance of their
destiny, sang fervently that fiery hymn of Charles
Wesley's :
" Jesus, the name high over all,
In hell or earth or sky,
Angels and men before him fall,
And devils fear and fly.
" O that the world might taste and see,
The riches of his grace,
The arms of love that compass me
Would all mankind embrace."
And when they reached the last stanzas there was the
ring of soldiers ready for battle in their martial voices.
That some of them would die from exposure, malaria,
or accident during the next year was probable. Tears
came to their eyes, and they involuntarily began to
grasp the hands of those who stood next them as they
approached the climax of the hymn, which the bishop
read impressively, two lines at a time, for them to
sing:
" His only righteousness I show,
His saving truth proclaim,
'Tis all my business here below
To cry, ' Behold the Lamb ! '
THE CONFERENCE AT HICKORY RIDGE. 193
' Happy if with my latest breath
I may but gasp his name,
Preach him to all and cry in death,
' Behold, behold the Lamb !' "
Then, with suffused eyes, they resumed their seats, and
the venerable Asbury, with calmness and with a voice
faltering with age, made them a brief address ; tender
and sympathetic at first, earnest as he proceeded, and
full of ardor and courage at the close.
"When the British Admiralty," he said, "wanted
some man to take Quebec, they began with the oldest
General first, asking him : ' General, will you go and
take Quebec ? ' To which he made reply, ' It is a very
difficult enterprise.' 'You may stand aside,' they said.
One . after another the Generals answered that they
would, in some more or less indefinite manner, until
the youngest man on the list was reached. ' General
Wolfe,' they said, ' will you go and take Quebec ? '
'I'll do it or die,' he replied." Here the bishop
paused, looked round about upon them, and added,
with a voice, full of emotion, " He went, and did both.
We send you first to take the country allotted to you.
We want only men who are determined to do it or
die ! Some of you, dear brethren, will do both. If
you fall, let us hear that you fell like Methodist
preachers at your post, face to the foe, and the shout
of victory on your lips.''
The effect of this speech was beyond description.
There were sobs, and cries of "Amen," "God grant
it," " Halleluiah !" from every part of the old log
church. Every man was ready for the hardest place,
194 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
if he must. Gravely, as one who trembles at his re-
sponsibility, the bishop brought out his list. No man
looked any more upon his fellow. Every one kept
his eyes fixed upon the paper from which the bishop
read the appointments, until his own name was reached.
Some showed pleasure when their. names were called,
some could not conceal a look of pain. When the
reading had proceeded half way down the list, Morton
heard, with a little start, the words slowly enounced
as the bishop's eyes fell on him :
" Jenkinsville Circuit Morton Goodwin."
Well, at least Jenkinsville was in Ohio. But it
was in the wickedest part of Ohio. Morton half sus-
pected that he was indebted to his muscle, his cour-
age, and his quick wit for the appointment. The
rowdies of Jenkinsville Circuit were worse than the
alligators of Mississippi. But he was young, hopeful
and brave, and rather relished a difficult field than
otherwise. He listened now for Kike's name. It
came at the bottom of the list :
" Pottawottomie Creek W. T. Smith, Hezekiah
Lumsden."
The bishop had not dared to entrust a circuit to
a man so sick as Kike was. He had, therefore, sent
him as " second man " or " junior preacher " on a cir-
cuit in the wilderness of Michigan.
The last appointment having been announced, a
simple benediction closed the services, and the brethren
who had foregone houses and homes and fathers and
mothers and wives and children for the kingdom of
heaven's sake saddled their horses, called, one by one, at
THE CONFERENCE AT HICKORY RIDGE. 195
Dr. Morgan's to say a brotherly " God bless you !" to
the sick Kike, and rode away, each in his own direc-
tion, and all with a self-immolation to the cause
rarely seen since the Middle-Age.
They rode away, all but Kike, languishing yet with
fever, and Morton, watching by his side.
CHAPTER XXI.
CONVALESCENCE.
AT last Kike is getting betfer, and Morton can be
spared. There is no longer any reason why the
rowdies on Jenkinsville Circuit should pine for the
muscular young preacher whom they have vowed to
" lick as soon as they lay eyes on to him." Dolly's
legs are aching for a gallop. Morton and Dr. Morgan
have exhausted their several systems of theology in
discussion. So, at last, the impatient Morton mounts
the impatient Dolly, and gallops away to preach to the
impatient brethren and face the impatient ruffians of
Jenkinsville Circuit. Kike is left yet in his quiet har-
bor to recover. The doctor has taken a strange fancy
to the zealous young prophet, and looks forward with
sadness to the time when he will leave.
Ah, happiest experience of life, when the flood tide
sets "back through the veins ! You have no longer-
any pain; you are not well enough to feel any re-
sponsibility ; you cannot work ; there is no obligation
resting on you but one that is rest. Such perfect
passivity Kike had never known before. He could
walk but little. He sat the livelong day by the open
window, as listless as the grass that waved before the
wind. All the sense of dire responsibility, all thos?
CONVALESCENCE. I97
feelings of the awfulness of life, and the fearfulness of
his work, and the dreadfulness of his accountability,
were in abeyance. To eat, to drink, to sleep, to
wake and breathe, to suffer - as a passive instrument
the "play of whatever feeling might chance to come,
was Kike's life.
In this state the severity of his character was
laid aside. He listened to the quick and eager con-
versation of Dr. Morgan with a gentle pleasure ; he
answered the motherly questions of Mrs. Morgan with
quiet gratitude ; he admired the goodness of Miss Jane
Morgan, their eldest and most exemplary daughter, as
a far off spectator. There were but two things that
had a real interest for him. He felt a keen delight
in watching the wayward flight of the barn swallows
as they went chattering out from under the eaves
their airy vagabondage was so restful. And he liked
to watch the quick, careless tread of Henrietta Morgan,
the youngest of the doctor's daughters, who went on
forever talking and laughing with as little reck as the
swallows themselves. Though she was eighteen, there
was in her full child-like cheeks, in her contagious
laugh a laugh most unprovoked, coming of itself in
her playful way of performing even her duties, a
something that so contrasted with and relieved the
habitual austerity of Kike's temper, and that so fell in
with his present lassitude and happy carelessness, that
he allowed his head, resting weakly upon a pillow, to
turn from side to side, that his eyes might follow her.
So diverting were her merry replies, that he soon came
to talk with her for the sake of hearing them. He
198 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
was not forgetful of the solemn injunctions Mr.
Wesley had left for the prudent behavior of young
ministers in the presence of women. With Miss Jane
he was very careful lest he should in any way com-
promise himself, or awaken her affections. Jane* was
the kind of a girl he would want to marry, if he were
to marry. But Nettie was a child a cheerful butter-
fly as refreshing to his weary mind as a drink of cold
water to a fever-patient. When she was out of the
room, Kike was impatient ; when she returned, he was
glad. When she sewed, he drew the large chair in
which he rested in front of her, and talked in his
grave fashion, while she, in turn, amused him with a
hundred fancies. She seemed to shine all about him
like sunlight. Poor Kike could not refuse to enjoy a
fellowship so delightful, and Nettie Morgan's reverence
for young Lumsden's saintliness, and pity for his sick-
ness, grew apace into a love for him.
Long before Kike discovered or Nettie suspected
this, the doctor had penetrated it. Kike's whole-
hearted devotion to his work had charmed the
ex-minister, who moved about in his alert . fashion,
talking with eager rapidity, anticipating Kike's grave
sentences before he was half through seeing and
hearing everything while he seemed to note nothing.
He was not averse to this attachment between the
two. Provided always, that Kike should give up
traveling. It was all but impossible, indeed, for a
man to be a Methodist preacher in that day and
" lead about a wife." A very few managed to com-
bine the ministry with marriage, but in most cases
CONVALESCENCE.
199
marriage rendered " location " or secularization imper-
ative.
Kike sat one day talking in the half-listless way
that is characteristic of convalescence, watching Nettie
Convalescence.
Morgan as she sewed and laughed, when Dr. Morgan
came in, put his pill-bags upon the high bureau,
glanced quickly at the two, and said :
" Nettie, I think you'd better help your mother.
The double-and-twisting is hard work."
Nettie laid her sewing down. Kike watched her
until she had disappeared through the door ; then he
listened until the more vigorous spinning indicated to
him that younger hands had taken the wheel. His
200 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
heart sank a little it might be hours before Nettie
could return.
Dr. Morgan busied himself, or pretended to busy
himself, with his medicines, but he was observing how
the young preacher's eyes followed his daughter, how
his countenance relapsed into its habitual .melancholy
when she was gone. He thought he could not be
mistaken in his diagnosis.
" Mr. Lumsden," he ' said, kindly, " I don't know
what we shall do when you get well. I can't bear to
have you go away."
'' You have been too good, doctor. I am afraid
you have spoiled me." The thought of going to
Pottawottomie Creek was growing more and more
painful to Kike. He had put all thoughts of the sort
out of his mind, because the doctor wished him to
keep his mind quiet. Now, for some reason. Doctor
Morgan seemed to force the disagreeable future upon
him. Why was it unpleasant ? Why had he lost his
relish for his work ? Had he indeed backslidden ?
While the doctor fumbled over his bottles, and for
the fourth time held a large phial, marked Sulph. de
Quilt., up to the light, as though he were counting
the grains, the young preacher was instituting an
inquiry into his own religious state. Why did he
shrink from Pottawottomie Creek circuit ? He had
braved much harder toil and greater danger. On
Pottawottomie Creek he would have a senior colleague
upon whom all administrative responsibilities would
devolve, and the year promised to be an easy one in
comparison with the preceding. On inquiring of him-
CONVALESCENCE. 201
self he found that there was no circuit .that would be
attractive to him in his present state of mind, except
the one that lay all around Dr. Morgan's house. At
first Kike Lumsden, playing hide-and-seek with his
own motives, as other men do under like circumstan-
ces, gave himself much credit for his grateful attach-
ment to the family. Surely gratitude is a generous
quality, and had not Dr. Morgan, though of another
denomination, taken him under his roof and given
him professional attention free of charge ? And Mrs.
Morgan and Jane and Nettie, had they not cared for
him as though he were a brother .? What could be
more commendable than that he should find himself
loth to leave people who were so good .'
But Kike had not been in the habit of cheating
himself. He had always dealt hardly with Kike
Lumsden. He could not rest now in this subterfuge ;
he would not give himself credit that he did not
deserve. So while the doctor walked to the window
and senselessly examined the contents of one of his
bottles marked " Hydrarg.," Kike took another and
closer look at his own mind and saw that the one
person whose loss -wfould be painful to him was not
Dr. Morgan, nor his excellent wife, nor the admirable
Jane, but the volatile Nettie, the cadence of whose
spinning wheel he was even then hearkening to. The
consciousness that he was in love came to him sud-
denly a consciousness not without pleasure, but with
a plentiful admixture of pain.
Doctor Morgan's eyes, glancing with characteristic
alertness, caught the expression of a new self-knowledge
202 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
and of an anxious pain upon the forehead of Lums-
den. Then the physician seemed all at once satisfied
with his medicines. The bottle labelled " Hydrarg."
and the " Sulph. de Quin." were now replaced in the
saddle bags.
At this moment Nettie herself came into the room
on some errand. Kike had heard her wheel stop
had looked toward the door had caught her glance
as she came in, and had, in that moment, become
aware that he was not the only person in love. Was
it, then, that the doctor wished to prevent the attach-
ment going further that he had delicately reminded
his guest of the approach of the time when he must
leave ? These thoughts aroused Kike from the lassi-
tude of his slow convalescence. Nettie went back to
her wheel, and set it humming louder than ever, but
Kike heard now in its tones some note of anxiety
that disturbed him. The doctor came and sat down
by him and felt his pulse, ostensibly to see if he had
fever, really to add yet another link to the chain of
evidence that his surmise was correct.
"Mr. Lumsden," said he, "a constitution so much
impaired as yours cannot recuperate in a few days."
" I know that, sir," said Kike, " and I am anxious
to get to my mother's for a rest there, that I may not
burden you any longer, and " .
" You misunderstand me, my dear fellow, if you
think I want to be rid of you. I wish you would
stay with me always; I do indeed."
For a moment Kike looked out of the window. To
stay with the doctor always would, it seemed to him.
CONVALESCENCE 203
be a heaven upon earth. But had he not renounced
all thought of a heaven on earth? Had he not said
plainly that here he had no abiding place ? Having
put his hand to the plow, should he look back?
"But I ought not to give up my work."
It was not in this tone that Kike would have
spumed such a temptation awhile before.
"Mr. Lumsden," said the doctor, "you see that I
am useful here. I cannot preach a great deal, but I
think that I have never done so much good as since
I began to practice medicine. I need somebody to
help me. I cannot take care of the farm and my
practice too. You could look after the farm, and
preach every Sunday in the country twenty miles
round. You might even study medicine after awhile,
and take the practice as I grow older. You will die,
if you go on with your circuit-riding. Come and live
with me, and be my assistant." The doctor had
almost said "my son." It was in his mind, and Kike
divined it.
" Think about it," said Dr. Morgan, as he rose to
go, " and remember that nobody is obliged to kill
himself."
And all day long Kike thought and prayed, and
tried to see the right ; and all day long Nettie found
occasion to come in on little errands, and as often as
she came in did it seem clear to Kike that he would
be justiiied in accepting Dr. Morgan's offer ; and as
often as she went out did he tremble lest he were
about to betray the trust committed to him.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE DECISION.
THE austerity of Kike's conscience had slumbered
during his convalescence. It was wide awake
now. He sat that evening in his room trying to see
the right way. According to old Methodist custom
he looked for some inward movement of the spirit
some "impression" that should guide him.
During the great religious excitement of the early
part of this century, Western pietists referred every-
thing to God in prayer, and the beljef in immmediate-
divine direction was often carried to a ludicrous
extent. It is related that one man retired to the hills
and prayed a week that he might know how he should
be baptized, and that at last he came rushing out of the
woods, shouting " Hallelujah ! Immersion ! " Various
devices were invented for obtaining divine direction
devices not unworthy the ancient augurs. Lorenzo
Dow used to suffer his horse to take his own course
at each divergence of the road. It seems to have
been a favorite delusion of pietism, in all ages, that
God could direct an inanimate object, guide a dumb
brute, or impress a blind impulse upon the human
mind, but could not enlighten or guide the judgment
itself. The opening of a Bible at random for a direct-
ing text became so common during the Wesleyan
THE DECISION. 205
movement in England, that Dr. Adam Clarke thought
it necessary to utter a stout Irish philippic against
what he called " Bible sortilege."
These devout divinings, these vanes set to catch
the direction of heavenly breezes, could not but im-
press so earnest a nature as Kike's. Now in his
distress he prayed with eagerness and opened his
Bible at random to find his eye lighting, not on any
intelligible or remotely applicable passage, but upon a
bead-roll of unpronounceable names in one of the
early chapters of the Book of Chronicles. This
disappointment he accepted as a trial of his faith.
Faith like Kike's is not to be dashed by disappoint-
ment. He prayed again for direction, and opened
at last at the text : " Simon, son of Jonas, lovest
"thou me more than these?" The marked trait in
Kike's piety was an enthusiastic personal loyalty to
the Lord Jesus Christ. This question seemed directed
to him, as it had been to Peter, in reproach. He
would hesitate no longer. Love, and life itself, should
be sacrificed for the Christ who died for him. Then he
prayed once more, and there came to his mind the
memory of that saying about leaving houses and homes
and lands and wives, for Christ's sake. It came to him,
doubtless, by a perfectly natural law of mental associ-
ation. But -what did Kike know of the association of
ideas, or of any other law of mental action ? Wesley's
sermons and Benson's Life of Fletcher constituted his
library. To him it seemed certain that this text of
scripture was " suggested." It was a call from Christ
to give up all for him. And in the spirit of the
206 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
sublimest self-sacrifice, he said : " Lord, I will keep
back nothing ! "
But emotions and resolutions that are at high tide
in the evening often ebb before morning. Kike
thought himself strong enough to begin again to rise
at four o'clock, as Wesley had ordained in those " rules
for a preacher's conduct " which every Methodist^
preacher even yet promises to keep. Following the
same rules, he proceeded to set apart the first hour
for prayer and meditation. The night before all had
seemed clear; but now that morning had come and
he must soon proceed to execute his stern resolve, he
found himself full of doubt and irresolution. Such
vacillation was not characteristic of Kike, but it marked
the depth of his feeling for Nettie. Doubtless, too,
the enervation of convalescence had to do with it.'
Certainly in that raw and foggy dawn the forsaking
of the paradise of rest and love in which he had
lingered seemed to require more courage than he
could muster. After all, why should he leave ? Might
he not be mistaken in regard to his duty ? Was he
obliged to sacrifice his life 1
He conducted his devotions in a state of great
mental distraction. Seeing a copy of Baxter's Reformed
Pastor which belonged to Dr. Morgan lying on the
window-seat, he took it up, hoping to get some light
from its stimulating pages. He remembered that
Wesley spoke well of Baxter ; but he could not fix his
mind upon the book. He kept listlessly turning the
leaves until his eye lighted upon a sentence in Latin.
Kike knew not a single word of Latin, and for that
THE DECISION. 207
very reason his attention was the more readily attract-
ed by the sentence in an unknown tongue. He read
it, ^^ Nee propter vitam, vivendi perdere causas." He
found written in the margin a free rendering : " Let us
not, for the sake of life, sacrifice the only things worth
living for." He knelt down now and gave thanks for
what seemed to him Divine direction. He had been
delivered from a temptation to sacrifice the great end
of living for the sake of saving his life.
It cost him a pang to bid adieu to Dr. Morgan
and his motherly wife and the excellent Jane. It
cost him a great pang to say good-bye to Nettie
Morgan. Her mobik face could ill conceal her feeling.
She did not venture to come to the door. Kike
found her alone in the little porch at the back of the
house, trying to look unconcerned. Afraid to trust
himself he bade her farewell dryly, taking her hand
coldly for a moment. But the sight of her pain-
stricken face touched him to the quick : he seized her
hand again, and, with eyes full of tears, said huskily:
" Good-bye, Nettie ! God bless you, and keep you for-
ever ! " and then turned suddenly away, bidding the
rest a hasty adieu and riding off" eagerly, almost
afraid to look back. He was more severe than ever
in the watch he kept over himself after this. He
could never again trust his treacherous heart.
Kike rode to his old home in the Hissawachee
Settlement, " The Fo'rks " had now come to be quite
a village; the valley was filling with people borne on
that great wave of migration that swept over the
Alleghanies in the first, dozen years of the century.
208 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
The cabin in which his mother lived was very
little different from what it was when he left it. The
old stick chimney showed signs of decrepitude; the
barrel which served for chimney-pot was canted a
little on one side, giving to the cabin, as Kike
thought, an unpleasant air, as of a man a little exhila-
rated with whiskey, who has tipped his hat upon the
side of his head to leer at you saucily. The mother
received him jpyously, and wiped her eyes with her
apron when she saw how sick he had been. Brady
was at the widow's cabin, and though he stood by the
fire-place when Kike entered, the two splint-bottomed
chairs sat suspiciously close together. Brady had long
thought of changing his state, but both Brady and the
widow were in mortal fear of Kike, whose severity of
judgment and sternness of reproof appalled them.
" If it wasn't for Koike," said Brady to himself, " I'd
propose to the widdy. But what .would the lad say
to sich follies at my toime of loife ? And the widdy's
more afeard of him than I am. Did iver anybody
say the loikes of a b'y that skeers his schoolmasther
out of courtin his mother, and his mother out of
resavin the attintions of a larnt grammairian loike
mesilf? The misfortin' is that Koike don't have no
wakenisses himsilf I wish he had jist one, and thin
I wouldn't keer. If I could only foind that he'd iver
looked jist a little swate loike at iny young girl, I
wouldn't moind his cinsure. But, somehow, I kape
a-thinkin' what would Koike say, loike a ould coward
that I am."
Kike had come home to have his tattered wardrobe
THE DECISION. 209
improved, and the thoughtful mother had already made
him a warm, though not very shapely, suit of jeans.
It cost Kike a struggle to leave her again. Shq did
not think him fit to go. But she did not dare to say
so. How should she venture to advise one who
seemed to her wondering heart to live in the very
secrets of the Almighty ? God had laid hands on
him the child was hers no longer. But still she
looked her heart-breaking apprehensions as he set
out from home, leaving her standing disconsolate in
the doorway wiping her eyes with. her apron.
And Brady, seeing Kike as he rode by the school-
house, ventured to give him advice partly by way of
finding out whether Kike had any " wakeniss " or not.
" Now, Koike, me son, as your ould taycher, I
thrust you'll bear with me if I give you some advpice,
though ye have got to be sich a praycher. Ye'U not
take offinse, me lad ? "
" O no ; certainly not, Mr. Brady," said Kike,
smiling sadly.
" Will, thin, ye're of a delicate constitooshun as
shure as ye're bom, and it's me own opinion as ye
ought to git a good wife to nurse ye, and thin you
could git a home and maybe do more good than ye
do now."
Kike's face settled into more than its wonted
severity. The remembrance of his recent vacillation
and the sense of his present weakness were fresh in
his mind. He would not again give place to the
devil.
" Mr; Brady, there's something more important
2lO THE CIRCUIT KIDER.
than our own ease or happiness. We were not made
to seek comfort, but to give ourselves to the work of
Christ. And see ! your head is already blossoming
for eternity, and yet you talk as if this world were
all."
Saying this. Kike shook hands with the master
solemnly and rode away, and Mr. Brady was more
appalled than ever.
" The lad haint got a wakeniss," he said, discon-
solately. " Not a wakeniss," he repeated, as he walked
gloomily into the school-house, took down a switch
and proceeded to punish Pete Sniger, who, as the
worst boy in the school, and a sort of evil genius,
often, suffered on general principles when the master
was out of humor.
Was Kike unhappy when he made his way to the
distant Pottawottomie Creek circuit?
Do you think the Jesuit missionaries, who traversed
the wilds of America at the call of duty as they heard
it, were unhappy men ? The highest happiness comes
not from the satisfaction of our desires, but from the
denial of them for the sake of a high purpose. I
doubt not the happiest man that ever sailed through
Levantine seas, or climbed Cappadocian mountains, was
Paul of Tarsus. Do you think that he envied the
voluptuaries of Cyprus, or the rich merchants of
Corinth? Can you believe that one of the idlers in
the Epicurean gardens, or one of the Stoic loafers in
the covered sidewalks of Athens, could imagine the
joy that tided the soul of Paul over all tribulations ?
For there is a sort of awful delight in self-sacrifice,
THB DECISION. 211
and Kike defied the storms of a northern winter, and all
the difficulties and dangers of the wilderness, and all
the hardships of his lonely lot, with one saying often
on his lips : " O Lord, I have kept back nothing ! "
I have heard that about this time young Lumsden
was accustomed to electrify his audiences by his fer-
vent preaching upon the Christian duty of Glorying
in Tribulation, and that shrewd old country women
would nod their heads one to another as they went
home afterward, and say ; " He's seed a mighty sight
o' trouble in his time, I 'low, fer a young man."
"Yes; but he's got the- victory; and how powerful
sweet he talks about it! I never heerd the beat in all
my born days."
CHAPTER XXIII.
RUSSELL BIGELOW'S SERMON.
TWO years have ripened Patty from the girl ta the
woman. If Kike is happy in his self-abnegation,
Patty is not happy in hers. Pride has no balm in it.
However powerful it may be -as a stimulant, it is poor
food. And Patty has little but pride to feed upon.
The invalid mother has now been dead a year, and
Patty is almost without companionship, though not
without suitors. Land brings lovers land-lovers, if
nothing more and the estate of Patty's father is not
her only attraction. She is a young woman of a
certain nobility of figure and carriage; she is not
large, but her bearing makes her seem quite com-
manding. Even her father respects her, and all the
more does he wish to torment her whenever he finds
opportunity. Patty is thrifty, and in the early West
no attraction outweighed this wifely ordering of a
household. But Patty will not marry any of the
suitors who calculate the infirm health of her father
and the probable division of his estate, and who
mentally transfer to their future homes the thrift and
orderliness they see in Captain Lumsden's. By refusing
them all she has won the name of a proud girl.
There are times when out of sight of everybody
RUSSELL BIGELOWS SERMON. 213
she weeps, hardly knowing why. And since her
mother's death she reads the prayer-book more than
ever, finding in the severe confessions therein framed
for us miserable sinners, and the plaintive cries of
the litany, a voice 'for her innermost soul.
Captain Lumsden fears she will marry and leave
him, and yet it angers him that she refuses to marry.
His hatred of Methodists has assumed the intensity
of a monomania since he was defeated for the legis-
lature partly by Methodist opposition. All his love
of power has turned to bitterest resentment, and every
thought that there may be yet the remotest possibility
of Patty's marrying Morton afflicts him beyond
measure. He cannot fathom the reason for her obsti-
nate rejection of all lovers; he dislikes her growing
seriousness and her fondness for the prayer-book.
Even the prayer-book's earnestness has something
Methodistic about it. But Patty has never yet beeii
in a Methodist meeting, and with this fact he com-
forts himself. He has taken pains to buy her jewelry
and " artificials " in abundance, that he may, by
dressing her finely, remove her as far as possible from
temptations to become a Methodist. For in that time,
when fine dressing was not common and country
neighborhoods were polarized by the advent of Method-
ism in its most aggressive form, every artificial flower
and every earring was a banner of antagonism to the
new sect ; a well-dressed woman in a congregation
was almost a defiance to the preacher. It seemed to
Lumsden, therefore, that Patty had prophylactic orna-
ments enough to save her from Methodism. And to all
214
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
of these he added covert threats that if any child of his
should ever join these crazy Methodist loons, he would
turn him out of doors and never see him again. This
threat was always indirect a remark dropped inci-
dentally ; the pronoun which represented the unknown
quantity of a Methodist Lumsden was always mascu-
line, but Patty did not fail to comprehend.
One day there came to Captain Lumsden's door
that out - cast of
New England a
tin-peddler. West-
ern people had nev-
er heard of Yale
College or any other
glory of Connecti-
cut or New Eng-
land. To them it
was but a land that
bred pestilent peri-
patetic peddlers of
tin-ware and wood-
en clocks. Western
rogues would cheat
you out of your
horse or your farm The Connecticut Peddler.
if a good chance offered, but this vile vender of
Yankee tins, who called a bucket a "pail," and said
"noo" for new, and talked nasally, would work an
hour to cheat you out of a "fipenny bit." The tin-
peddler, one Munson, thrust his sharpened visage in
at Lumsden's door and "made bold" to quire if he
JiUSSELL BIGELOWS SERMON. 215
could git a night's lodging, which the Captain, like
other settlers, granted without charge. Having unload-
ed his stock of " tins " and " put up " his horse, the
Connecticut peddler " made bold " to ask many lead-
ing questions about the family and personal history
of the Lumsdens, collectively and individually. Hav-
ing thus taken the first steps toward acquaintance by
this display of an aggravating interest in the welfare
of his new friends, he proceeded to give elaborate
and truthful accounts with variations of his own
recent adventures, to the boundless amusement of the
younger Lumsdens, who laughed more heartily at the
Connecticut man's words and pronunciation than at
his stories. He said, among other things, that he had
ben to Jinkinsville t'other day to what the Methodis'
called a "basket meetin'." But when he had pro-
ceeded so far with his narrative, he prudently stopped
and made bold to /quire what the Captain thought
of these Methodists. The Captain was not slow to
express his opinion, and the man of tins, having thus
reassured himself by taking soundings, proceeded to
tell that they was a dreffle craoud of folks to that
meetin'. And he, hevin' a sharp eye to business, hed
went forrard to the mourner's bench to be prayed fer.
Didn't do no pertik'ler harm to hev folks pray fer ye,
ye know. Well, ye see, the Methodis' they wanted to
/^courage a seeker, and so they all bought some tins.
Purty nigh tuck the hull load offen his hands ! (And
here the peddler winked one eye at the Captain and
then the other at Patty.) Fer they was sech a dreffle
lot of folks there. Come to hear a young preacher
216 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
as is 'mazin' elo'kent Parson Goodwin by name, and
he was a good one to preach, sartain.
This startled Patty and the Captain.
" Goodwin ?" said the Captain ; " Morton Goodwin ?"
"The identikle," said the peddler.
" Raised only half a mile from here," said Lums-
den, " and we don't think much of him."
" Neither did I," said the peddler, trimming his
sails to Lumsden's breezes. " I calkilate I could
preach e'en a'most as well as he does,, myself, and I
wa'n't brought up to preachin', nother. But he's got
a good v'ice fer singin' sich a ring to't, ye see, and
he's got a smart way thet comes the sympathies over the
women folks and weak-eyed men, and sets 'em cryin'
at a desp'ate rate. Was brought up here, was he t
Du tell ! He's powerful pop'lar." Then, catching the
Captain's eye, he added : " Among the women, I
mean."
" He'll marry some shouting girl, I suppose," said
the Captain, with a chuckle.
"That's jist what he's going to do," said the ped-
dler, pleased to have some information to give. Seeing
that the Captain and his daughter were interested in
his communication, the peddler paused a moment. A
bit of gossip is too good a possession for one to part
with too quickly.
" You guessed good, that time," said the tinware
man. " I heerd say as he was a goin' to splice with a
gal that could pray like a angel afire. An' I heerd
her pray. She nearly peeled the shingles off the skewl-
haouse. Sich another ^jccitement as she perjuced, I
RUSSELL BIGELOW'S SERMON. 217
never did see. An' I went up to her after meetin'
and axed a interest in her prayers. Don't do no
harm, ye know, to git sich lightnin' on yer own side !
An' I took keer to git a good look at her face, for
preachers ginerally marry purty faces. Preachers is a
good deal like other folks, ef they do purtend to be
better, hey.' Well, naow, that Ann Elizer Meacham is
purty, sartain. An' everybody says he's goin' to marry
her; an' somebody said the presidin' elder mout tie
'em up next Sunday at Quartily Meetin', maybe. Then
they'll divide the work in the middle and go halves.
She'll pray and he'll preach." At this the peddler
broke into a sinister laugh, sure that he had conciliated
both the Captain and Patty by his news. He now
proposed to sell some tinware, thinking he had woiked
his audience up to the right state of mind.
Patty did not know why she should feel vexed at
hearing this bit of intelligence from Jenkinsville. What
was Morton Goodwin to her 1 She went around the
house as usual this evening, trying to hide all appear-
ance of feeling. She even persuaded her father to
buy half-a-dozen tin cups and some milk-buckets she
smiled at the peddler for calling them pails. She was
not williiig to gratify the Captain by showing him how
much she disliked the scoffing " Yankee." But when
she was alone that evening, even the prayer-book had
lost its power to soothe. She was mortified, vexed,
humiliated on every hand. She felt hard and bitter,
above all, toward the sect that had first made a divis-
ion between Morton and herself, and cordially blamed
the Methodists for all her misfortunes.
218 TH CIRCUIT RIDER.
It happened that upon the very next Sunday
Russell Bigelow was to preach. Far and wide over
the West had traveled the fame of this great preacher,
who, though born in Vermont, was wholly Western in
his impassioned manner. " An orator is to be judged
not by his printed discourses, but by the memory of
the effect he has produced," says a French writer ; and
if we may judge of Russell Bigelow by the fame that
fills Ohio and Indiana even to this day, he was surely
an orator of the highest order. He is known as the
"indescribable." The news that he was to preach had
set the Hissawachee Settlement afire with eager curi-
osity to hear him. Even Patty declared her intention
of going, much to the Captain's regret. The meeting
was not to be held at Wheeler's, but in the woods,
and she could go for this time without entering the
house of her father's foe. She had no other motive
than a vague hope of hearing something that would
divert her; life had grown so heavy that she craved
excitement of any kind. She would take a back seat
and hear the famous Methodist for herself. But Patty
put on all of her gold and costly apparel. She was
determined that nobody should suspect her of any
intention of "joining the church." Her mood was one
of curiosity on the surface, and of proud hatred and
quiet defiance below.
No religious meeting is ever so delightful as a
meeting held in the forest; no forest is so satisfying
as a forest of beech ; the wide-spreading boughs
drooping when they start from the trunk, but well sus-
tained at the last stretch out regularly and with
RUSSELL BIGELOWS SERMON. 23 9
a Steady horizontalness, the last year's leaves form
a carpet like a cushion, while the dense foliage shuts
out the sun. To this meeting in the beech woods
Patty chose to walk, since it was less than a mile
away.* As she passed through a little" cove, she saw a
man lying flat on his face in prayer. It was the
preacher. Awe-stricken, Patty hurried on to the
meeting. She had fully intended to take a seat in
the rear of the congregation, but being a little con-
fused and absent-minded she did not observe at first
where the stand had been erected, and that she was
entering the congregation at the side nearest to the
pulpit. When she discovered her mistake it was too
late to withdraw, the aisle beyond her was already full
of standing people ; there was nothing for her but to
take the only vacant seat in sight. This put her in
the very midst of the members, and in this position
she was quite conspicuous ; even strangers from other
settlements saw with astonishment a woman elegantly
dressed, for that time, sitting in the very midst of the
devout sisters for the men and women sat apart. All
around Patty there was not a single "artificial," or
piece of jewelry. Indeed, most of the women wore
calico sunbonnets. The Hissawachee people who knew
her were" astounded to see Patty at meeting at all.
They remembered her treatment of Moirton, and they
looked upon Captain Lumsden as Gog and Magog in-
carnated in one. This sense of the conspicuousness
* I give the local tradition of Bigelow's text, sermon, and the
accompanying incident.
220 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
of her position was painful to Patty, but she presently
forgot herself in listening to the singing. There never
was such a chorus as a backwoods Methodist congre-
gation, and here among the trees they sang hymn after
hymn, now with- the tenderest pathos, now with tri-
umphant joy, now with solemn earnestness. They sang
"Children of the Heavenly King," and "Come let us
anew," and "Blow ye the trumpet, blow," and "Arise
my soul, arise," and " How happy every child of
grace ! " While they were singing this last, the cele-
brated preacher entered the pulpit, and there ran
through the audience a movement of wonder, almost
of disappointment. His clothes were of that sort of
cheap cotton cloth known as " blue drilling," and did
not fit him. He was rather short, and inexpressibly
awkward. His hair hung unkempt over the best
portion of his face the broad projecting forehead.
His eyebrows were overhanging ; his nose, cheek-bones
and chin large. His mouth was wide and with a
sorrowful depression at the corners, his nostrils thin,
his eyes, keen, and his face perfectly mobile. He
took for his text the words of Eleazar to Laban,
" Seeking a bride for his master,'' and, according to the
custom of the time, he first expounded the incident,
and then proceeded to " spiritualize " it, by applying
it to the soul's marriage to Christ. Notwithstanding
the ungainliness of his frame and the awkwardness
of his postures, there was a gentlemanliness about
his address that indicated a man not unaccus-
tomed to good society. His words were well-chosen ;
his pronunciation always correct ; his speech gram-
RUSSELL BIGELOW'S SERMON. 221
matical. In all of these regards Patty was disap-
pointed.
But the sermon. Who shall describe " the inde-
scribable " .? As the servant, he proceeded to set forth
the character of the Master. What struck Patty was
not the nobleness of his speech, nor the force of his
argument ; she seemed to see in the countenance that
every divine trait which he described had reflected
itself in the life of the preacher himself. For none
but the manliest of men can ever speak worthily of
Jesus Christ. As Bigelow proceeded he won her
famished heart to Christ. For such a Master she
could live or die ; in such a life there was what Patty
needed most a purpose; in such a life there was a
friend ; in such a life she would escape that sense
of the ignobleness of her own pursuits, and the
unworthiness of her own pride. All that he said of
Christ's love and condescension filled her with a sense
of sinfulness and meanness, and she wept bitterly.
There were a hundred others as much affected, but
the eyes of all her neighbors were upon her. If Patty
should be converted, what a victory !
And as the preacher proceeded to describe the joy
of a soul wedded forever to Chirst living nobly after
the pattern of His life Patty resolved that she would
devote herself to this life and this Saviour, and rejoiced
in sympathy with the rising note of triumph in the ser-
mon. Then Bigelow, last of all, appealed to courage
and to pride^to pride in its best sense. Who would
be ashamed of such a Bridegroom ? And as he
depicted the trials that some must pass through in
222 THE CIRCUIT HIDER.
accepting Him, Patty saw her own situation, and men-
tally made the sacrifice. As he described the glory of
renouncing the world, she thought of her jewelry and
the spirit of defiance in which she had put it on.
There, in the midst of that congregation, she took out
her earrings, and stripped the flowers from the bonnet.
We may smile at the unnecessary sacrifice to an over-
strained literalism, but to Patty it was the solemn
renunciation of the world the whole-hearted espousal
of herself, for all eternity, to Him who stands for all
that is noblest in life. Of course this action was
visible to most of the congregation most of all to
the preacher himself. To the Methodists it was the
greatest of triumphs, this public conversion of Captain
Lumsden's daughter, and they showed their joy in
many pious ejaculations. Patty did not seek conceal-
ment. She scorned to creep into the kingdom of
heaven. It seemed to her that she owed this pub-
licity. For a moment all eyes were turned away from
the orator. He paused in his discourse until Patty
had removed the emblems of her pride and antago-
nism. Then, turning with tearful eyes to the audience,
the preacher, with simple-hearted sincerity and incon-
ceivable effect, burst out with, " Hallelujah ! I have
found a bride for my Master ! "
CHAPTER XXIV
DRAWING THE LATCH-STRING IN.
UP to this point Captain Lumsden had been a spec-
tator having decided to risk a new attack of the
jerks that he might stand guard over Patty. But Patty-
was so far forward that he could not see her, except
now and then as he stretched his small frame to peep
over the shoulders of some taller man standing in
front. It was only when Bigelow uttered these exulting
words that he gathered from the whispers about him
that Patty was the center of excitement. He instantly
began to swear and to push through the crowd, declar-
ing that he would take Patty home and teach her to
behave herself. The excitement which he produced
presently attracted the attention of the preacher and of
the audience. But Patty was too much occupied with
the solemn emotions that engaged her heart, to give
any attention to it.
" She is my daughter, and she's got to learn to
obey," said Lumsden in his quick, rasping voice, push-
ing energetically toward the heart of the dense assem-
blage with the purpose of carrying Patty off by force.
Patty heard this last threat, and turned round just at
the mohient when, her father had forced his way through
the fringe of standing people that bordered the densely
224 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
packed congregation, and was essaying, in his headlong
anger, to reach her and drag her forth.
The Methodists of that day generally took pains to
put themselves under the protection of the law in
order to avoid disturbance from the chronic rowdyism
of a portion of the people. There was a magistrate
and a constable on the ground, and Lumsden, in pene-
trating the cordon of standing men, had come directly
upon the country justice, who, though not a Methodist,
had been greatly moved by Bigelow's oratory, and who,
furthermore, was prone, as country justices sometimes
are, to exaggerate the dignity of his office. At any
rate, he was not a little proud of the fact that this
great orator and this assemblage of people had in
some sense put themselves under the protection of the
Majesty of the Law as represented in his own im-
portant self. And for Captain Lumsden to come
swearing and fuming right against his sacred person
was not only a breach of the law, it was' what the
justice considered much worse a contempt of court.
Hence ensued a dialogue :
The Court Captain Lumsden, I am a magistrate.
In interrupting the worship of Almighty God by this
peaceful assemblage you are violating the law. I do
not want to arrest a citizen of your standing ; but if
you do not cease your disturbance I shall be obliged
to vindicate the majesty of the law by ordering the
constable to arrest you for a breach of the peace, as
against this assembly. (J. P. here draws himself up
to his full stature, in the endeavor to represent the
dignity of the law.)
DRAWING THE LATCH-STRING IN. 225
Outraged Father Squire, I'll have you know that
Patty Lumsden's my daughter, and I have a right to
control her; and you'd better mind your own business.
Justice of the Peace (lowering his voice to a solemn
and very judicial bass) Is she under eighteen years
of age ?
Bystander (who does n't like Lumsden) She's
twenty.
Justice If your daughter is past eighteen, she is
of age. If you lay hands on her I'll have to take you
up for a salt and battery. If you carry her off I'll
take her back on a writ of replevin. Now, Captain, I
could arrest you here and fine you for this disturb-
ance ; and if you don't leave the meeting at once
I'll do it.
Here Captain Lumsden grew angrier than ever,
but a stalwart class-leader from another settlement,
provoked by the interruption of the eloquent sermon
and out of patience with " the law's delay,'' laid off
his coat and spat on his hands preparatory to ejecting
Lumsden, neck and heels, on his own account. At the
same moment an old sister near at hand began to
pray aloud, vehemently : " O Lord, convert him !
Strike him down. Lord, right where he stands, like
Saul of Tarsus. O Lord, smite the stiff-necked per-
secutor by almighty power ! "
This last was too much for the Captain. He
might have risked arrest, he might have faced the
herculean class-leader, but he had already felt the jerks
and was quite superstitious about them. This prayer
agitated him. He was not ambitious to emulate Paul,
226 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
and he began to believe that if he stood still a min-
ute longer he would surely be smitten to the ground
at the request of the sister with a relish for dramatic
conversions. Casting one terrified glance at the old
sister, whose confident eyes were turned toward heaven,
Lumsden broke through the surrounding crowd and
started toward home at a most undignified pace.
Patty's devout feelings were sadly interrupted dur-
ing the remainder of the sermon by forebodings.
But she had a will as inflexible as her father's, and
now that her will was backed by convictions of duty
it was more firmly set than ever. Bigelow announced
that he would " open the door of the church," and
the excited congregation made the forest ring with
that hymn of Watts' which has always been the re-
cruiting song of Methodism. The application to Patty's
case produced great emotion when the singing reached
the stanzas :
" Must I be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize
And sailed through bloody seas ?
" Are there no foes for me to face ?
Must I not stem the flood?
Is this vile world a friend to grace
To help me on to God?"
At this point Patty slowly rose from the place
where she had been sitting weeping, and marched
resolutely through the excited crowd until she reached
the preacher, to whom she extended her hand in
token of her desire to become a church-member.
DRAWING THE LATCH-STRING IN. 227
While she came forward, the congregation sang with
great fervor, and not a little sensation :
" Since I must fight if I would reign,
Increase my courage, Lord ;
I'll bear the toil, endure the pain,
Supported by thy word.''
After many had followed Patty's example the
meeting closed. Every Methodist shook hands with
the new converts, particularly with Patty, uttering
words of sympathy and encouragement. Some offered
to go home with her to keep her in countenance in
the inevitable conflict with her father, but, with a true
delicacy and filial dutifulness, Patty insisted on going
alone. There arc battles which are fought better
without allies.
That ten minutes' walk was a time of agony and
suspense. As she came up to the house she saw her
father sitting on the door-step, riding-whip in hand.
Though she knew his nervous habit of carrying his
raw-hide whip long after he had dismounted a habit
having its root in a domineering disposition she was
not without apprehension that he would use personal
violence. But Tie was quiet now, from extreme anger.
"Patty," he said, "either you will promise me on
the spot to give up this infernal Methodism, or you
can't come in here to bring your praying and groan-
ing into my ears. Are you going to give it up .' "
" Don't turn me off, father," pleaded Patty. " You
need me. I can stand it, but what will you do when
your rheumatism cornes on next winter? Do let me
228 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Stay and take care of you. I won't bother you about
my religion."
" I won't have this blubbering, shouting nonsense in
my house," screamed the father, frantically. He would
have said more, but he choked. " You've disgraced
the family," he gasped, after a minute.
Patty stood still, and said no more.
" Will you give up your nonsense about being
religious ? "
Patty shook her head.
" Then, clear out ! " cried the Captain, and with an
oath he went into the house and pulled the latch-
string in. The latch-string was the symbol of hospi-
tality. To say that " the latch-string was out " was to
open your door to a friend ; to pull it in was the
most significant and inhospitable act Lumsden could
perform. For when the latch-string is in, the door is
locked. The daughter was not only to be a daughter
no longer, she was now an enemy at whose approach
the latch-string was withdrawn.
Patty was full of natural affection. She turned away
to seek a home. Where ? She walked aimlessly down
the road at first. She had but one thought as she
receded from the old house that had been her home
from infancy
The latch-string was drawn in.
CHAPTER XXV.
ANN ELIZA.
HOW shall I make you understand this book, reader
of mine, who never knew the influences that sur-
rounded a Methodist of the old sort. Up to this point
I have walked by faith ; I could not see how the pres-
ent generation couki be made to comprehend the
earnestness of their grandfathers. But I have hoped
that, none the less, they might dimly perceive the pos-
sibility of a religious fervor that was as a fire in the
bones.
But now ?
You have never been a young Methodist preacher
of the olden time. You never had over you a presid-
ing elder who held your fate in his hands ; who, more
than that, was the man appointed by the church to be
your godly counsellor. In the olden time especially,
presiding elders were generally leaders of men, the best
and greatest men that the early Methodist ministry
afforded ; greatest inthe qualities most prized in ecclesi-
astical organization practical shrewdness, executive
force, and a piety of unction and lustre. How shall
I make you understand the weight which the words of
such a man had when he thought it needful to counsel
or admonish a young preacher?
230 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Our old friend Magruder, having shown his value
as an, organizer, had been made an "elder," and just
now he thought it his duty to have a solemn conversa-
tion with the " preacher-in-charge '' of Jenkinsville cir-
cuit, upon matters of great delicacy. Magruder was
not a man of nice perceptions, and he was dimly con-
scious of his own unfitness for the task, before him.
It was on the Saturday of a quarterly meeting. He
had said to the " preacher-in-charge " that *he would
like to have a word with him, and they were walking
side by side through the woods. Neither of them
looked at the other. The " elder " was trying in vain
to think of a point at which to begin; the young
preacher was wondering what the elder would say.
" Let us sit down here on this lind log, brother,"
said Magruder, desperately.
When they had sat down there was a pause.
" Have you ever thought of marrying, brother Good-
win ? " he broke out abruptly at last.
" I have, brother Magruder," said Morton, curtly,
not disposed to help the presiding elder out of his
difficulty. Then he added : " But not thinking it a
profitable subject for meditation, I have turned my
thoughts to other things."
" Ahem ! But have you not taken some steps
toward matrimony without consulting with your breth-
ren, as the discipline prescribes ? "
"No, sir."
"But, Brother Goodwin, I understand that you
have done a great wrong to a defenceless girl, who is
a stranger in a strange land."
ANN ELIZA.
231
" Do you mean Sister Ann Eliza Meacham ? "
asked Morton, startled by the solemnity with which
the presiding elder spoke.
"I am glad to see that you feel enough in the
matter to guess -who the person is. You have en-
couraged her to think that you meant to marry
her. If I am correctly informed, you even advised
Holston, who was her
lover, not to annoy
her any more, and
you assumed to de-
fend her rights in the
lawsuit about a piece
of land. Whether you
meant to marry her or
not, you- have at least
compromised her. And
in such circumstances
there is but one course
open to a Christian or
a gentleman." The
Ann Eliza. elder spoke severely.
" Brother Magruder, I will tell you the plain truth,"
said Morton, rising and speaking with vehemence. " I
have been very much struck with the eloquence of Sister
Ann Eliza when she leads in prayer or speaks in love-
feast. I did not mean to marry anybody. I have always
defended the poor and the helpless. She told me her
history one day, and I felt sorry for her. I deter-
mined to befriend her." Here Morton paused in some
embarrassment, not knowing just how to proceed.
232 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
" Befriend a woman ! That is the most imprudent
thing in the world for a minister to do, my dear
brother. You cannot befriend a woman without doing
harm."
" Well, she wanted help, and I could not refuse to
give it to her. She told me that she had refused
Bob Holston five times, and that he kept troubling
her. I met Bob alone one day, and I remonstrated
with him pretty earnestly, and he went all round the
country and said that I told him I was engaged
to Ann Eliza, and would whip him if he didn't let
her alone. What I did tell him was, that I was Ann
Eliza's friend, because she had no -other, and that I
thought, as a gentleman, he ought to take five refusals
as sufficient, and not wait till he was knocked down
by refusals." *
" Why, my brother," said the elder, " when you take
up a woman's cause that way, you have got to marry
her or ruin her and yourself, too. If you were not a
minister you might have a female friend or two ; and
you might help a woman in distress. But you are a
sheep in the midst of of wolves. Half the girls on
this circuit would like to marry you, and if you were
to help one of them over the fence, or hold her bridle-
rein for her while she gets on the horse, or talk five
minutes with her about the turnip crop, she would
consider herself next thing to engaged. Now, as to
Sister Ann Eliza, you have given occasion to gossip
over the whole circuit."
"Who told you so.?" asked Morton, with rising
indignation.
ANN ELIZA. 233
" Why, everybody. I hadn't more than touched the
circuit at Boggs' Corners till I heard that you were to
be married at this very Quarterly Meeting. And I felt
a little grieved that you should go so far without any
consultation with me. I stopped at Sister Sims's she's
Ann Eliza's aunt I believe and told her that I sup-
posed you and Sister Ann Eliza were going to require
my aid pretty soon, and she burst into tears. She said
that if there had been anything between you and Ann
Eliza, it must be broken off, for you hadn't stopped
there at all on your last round. Now tell me the
plain truth, brother. Did you not at one time enter-
tain a thought of marrying Sister Ann Eliza Meacham 1 "
" I have thought about it. She is good-looking and
I could n'ot be with her without liking her. Then,
too, everybody said that she was cut out for a. preacher's
wife. But I never paid her' any attention that could
be called courtship. I stopped going there because
somebody had bantered me about her. I was afraid of
talk. I will not deny that I was a little taken with her,
at first, but when I thought of marrying her I found that
I did not love her as one ought to love a wife as
much as I had once loved somebody else. And then,
too, you know that nine out of every ten who marry
have to locate sooner or later, and I don't want to
give up the ministry. I think it's hard if a man can-
not help a girl in distress without being forced to
marry her."
" Well, Brother Goodwin, we'll not discuss the matter
further," said the elder, who was more than ever con-
vinced by Morton's admissions : that he had acted
234 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
reprehensibly. " I have confidence in you. You have
done a great wrong, whether you meant it or not.
There is only one way of making the thing right. It's
a bad thing for a preacher to have a broken heart
laid at his door. Now I tell you that I don't know
anybody who would make a better preacher's wife than
Sister Meacham. If the case stands as it does now I
may have to object to the passage of your character
at the next conference."
This last was an awful threat. In that time when
the preachers lived far apart, the word of a presiding
elder was almost enough to ruin a man.. But instead
of terrifying Morton^ the threat made him sullenly
stubborn. If the elder and the conference could be so
unjust he would bear the consequences, but would never
submit.
The congregation was too large to sit in the school-
house, and the presiding elder accordingly preached in
the grove. All the time of his preaching Morton
Goodwin was scanning the audience to see if the zeal-
ous Ann Eliza were there. But no Ann Eliza appeared.
Nothing but grief could thus keep her away from the
meeting. The more Morton meditated upon it, the
more guilty did he feel. He had acted from the highest
motives. He did not know that Ann Eliza's aunt
the weak-looking Sister Sims had adroitly intrigued
to give his kindness the appearance of courtship. How
could he suspect Sister Sims or Ann Eliza of any
design .' Old ministers know better than to trust im-
plicitly to the goodness and truthfulness of all pious
people. There are people, pious in their way, in whose
ANN ELIZA. 235
natures intrigue and fraud are so indigenous that they
grow all unsuspected by themselves. Intrigue is one
of the Diabolonians of whom Bunyan speaks a small
but very wicked devil that creeps into the city of
Mansoul under an alias.
A susceptible nature like Morton's takes color from
other people. He was conscious that Magruder's con-
fidence in him was weakened, and it seemed to hini
that all the brethren and sisters looked at him askance.
When he came to make the concluding prayer he had
a sense of hollowness in his devotions, and he really
began to suspect that he might be a hypocrite.
In the afternoon the Quarterly Conference met, and
in the presence of class-leaders, stewards, local preachers
and exhorters from different parts of the circuit, the
once popular preacher felt that he had somehow lost
caste. He received fifteen dollars of the twenty which
the circuit owed him, according to the discipline, for
three months of labor; and small as was the amount,
the scrupulous and now morbid Morton doubted
whether he were fairly entitled to it. Sometimes he
thought seriously of satisfying his doubting conscience
by marrying Ann Eliza with or without love. But
his whole proud, courageous nature rebelled against
submitting to marry under compulsion of Magruder's
threat.
At the evening service Goodwin had to preach, and
he got on but poorly. He looked in vain for Miss
Ann Eliza Meacham. She was not there to go through
the audience and with winning voice persuade those who
were smitten with conviction to come to the mourner's
236 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
bench for prayer. She was not there to pray audibly
until every heart should be shaken. Morton was not
the only person who missed her. So famous a "work-
ing Christian " could not but be a general favorite;
and the people were not slow to divine the cause
of her absence. Brother Goodwin found the faces
of his brethren averted, and the grasp of their
hands less cordial'. But this only made him sulky and
stubborn. He had never meant to excite Sister Mea-
cham's expectations, and he would not be driven to
marry her.
The early Sunday morning of that Quarterly Meet-
ing saw all the roads crowded with people. Every-
body was on horseback, and almost every horse carried
" double." At half-past eight o'clock the love-feast
began in the large school-house. No one was admitted
who did not hold a ticket, and even of those who had
tickets some were turned away on account of their
naughty curls, their sinful '' artificials," or their wicked
ear-rings. At the moment when the love-feast began
the door was locked, and no ' tardy member gained
admission. Plates, with bread cut into half-inch cubes,
were passed round, and after these glasses of water,
from which each sipped in turn this meagre provision
standing ideally for a feast. Then the speaking was
opened by some of the older brethren, who were par-
ticularly careful as to dates, announcing, for instance,
that it would be just thirty-seven years ago the twenty-
first day of next November since the Lord " spoke
peace to my never-dying soul while I was kneeling at
the mourner's bench in Logan's school-house on the
ANN ELIZA. 237
banks of the South Fork of the Roanoke River in
Old Virginny." This statement the brethren had heard
for many years, with a proper variation in date as the
time advanced, but now, as in duty bound, they greeted
it again with pious ejaculations of thanksgiving. There
was a sameness in the perorations of these little
speeches. Most of the old men wound up by asking
an interest in the prayers of the brethren, that their
"last days might be their best days," and that their
"path might grow brighter and brighter unto the per-
fect day." Soon the elder sisters began to speak- of
their trials and victories, of their "ups and downs,"
their "many crooked paths," and the religion that
" happifies the soul." With their pathetic voices the
fire spread, until the whole meeting was at a white-
heat, and cries of " Hallelujah ! " " Amen ! " " Bless
the Lord ! " " Glory to God ! " and so on expressed the
fervor of feeling. Of course, you, sitting out of the
atmosphere of it , and judging coldly, laugh at this
indecorous fervor. Perhaps it is just as well to laugh,
but for my part I cannot. I know too well how deep
and vital were the emotions out of which came these
utterances of simple and earnest hearts. I find it hard
to get over an early prejudice that piety is of more
consequence than propriety.
Morton was looking in vain for Ann Eliza. If she
were present he could hardly tell it. Make the bon-
nets of women cover their faces and make them all
alike, and set them in meeting with faces resting for-
ward upon their hands, and then dress them in a uni-
form of homespun cotton, and there is not much
238 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
individuality left. If Ann Eliza Meacham were pres-
ent she would, according to custom, speak early ; and
all that this love-feast lacked was one of her rapt and
eloquent utterances. So when the speaking and singing
had gone on for an hour, and the voice of Sister
Meacham was not heard, Morton sadly concluded that
she must have remained at home, heart-broken on
account of disappointment at his neglect. In this he
was wrong. Just at that moment a sister rose in the
further corner of the room and began to speak in a
low and plaintive voice. It was Ann Eliza. But how
changed !
She proceeded to say that she had passed through
many fiery trials in her life. Of late she had been led
through deep waters of temptation, and the floods of
affliction had gone over her soul. (Here some of the
brethren sighed, and some of the sisters looked at
Brother Goodwin.) The devil had tempted her to stay
at home. He had tempted her to sit silent this morn-
ing, telling her that her voice would only discourage
others. But at last she had got the victory and
received strength to bear her cross. With this, her
voice rose and she spoke in tones of plaintive triumph
to the end. Morton was greatly affected, not because her
affliction was universally laid at his door, but because
he now began to feel, as he had not felt before, that
he- had indeed wrought her a great injury. As she
stood there, sorrowful and eloquent, he almost loved
her. He pitied her; and Pity lives on the next floor
below Love.
As for Ann Eliza, I would not have the reader
ANN ELIZA. 239
think too meanly of her. She had resolved to " catch"
Rev. Morton Goodwin from the moment she saw him.
But one of the oldest and most incontestable of the
rights which the highest civilization accords to woman
is that of " bringing down" the chosen man if she can.
Ann Eliza was not consciously hypocritical. Her deep
religious feeling was genuine. She had a native genius
for devotion and a genius for devotion is as much a
natural gift as a genius for poetry. Notwithstanding
her eloquence and her rare talent for devotion,
her gifts in the direction' of honesty and truthfulness
were few and feeble. A phrenologist would have de-
scribed such a character as possessing " Spirituality
and Veneration very large ; Conscientiousness small."
You have seen such people, and the world is ever
prone to rank them at first as saints, afterwards as
hypocrites; for the world classifies people in gross it
has no nice distinctions. Ann Eliza, like most people
of the oratorical temperament, was not over-scrupulous
in her way of producing effects. She could sway her
own mind as easily as she could that of others. In
the case of Morton, she managed to believe herself
the victim of misplaced confidence. She saw nothing
reprehensible either in her own or her aunt's manoeu-
vering. She only knew that she had been bitterly
disappointed, and characteristically blamed him through
whom the disappointment had come.
Morton was accustomed to judge by the standards
of his time. Such genuine fervor was, in his estima-
tion, evidence of a high state of piety. One " who
lived so hear the throne of grace," in Methodist phrase,
240 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
must be honest and pure and good. So Morton
reasoned. He had wounded such an one. He owed
reparation. In marrying Ann Eliza he woXild be act-
ing generously, honestly and wisely, -according to the
opinion of the presiding elder, the highest authority
he knew. For in Ann Eliza Meacham he would get
the most saintly of wives, the most zealous of Chris-
tians, the most useful of women. So when Mr.
Magruder exhorted the brethren at the . close of the
service to put away every sin out of their hearts
before they ventured to take the communion, Morton,
with many tears, resolved to atone for all the harm
he had unwittingly done to Sister Ann Eliza Mea-
cham, and to marry her if the Lord should open the
way.
But neither could he remain firm in this conclu-
sion. His high spirit resented the threat of the
presiding elder. He would not be driven into mar-
riage. In this uncomfortable frame of mind he passed
the night. But Magruder being a shrewd man,
guessed the state of Morton's feelings, and per-
ceived his own mistake. As he mounted his horse
on Monday morning, Morton stood with averted
eyes, ready to bid an official farewell to his presiding
elder, but not ready to give his usual cordial adieu to
Brother Magruder.
"Goodwin," said Magruder, looking at Morton with
sincere pity, "forgive me; I ought not to have spoken
as I did. I know you will do right, and I had no
right to threaten you. Be a man; that is all. Live
above reproach and act like a Christian. I am sorry
ANN ELIZA. 241
you have involved yourself. It is better not to marry,
maybe, though I have always maintained that a mar-
ried man can live in the ministry if he is careful and
has a good wife. Besides, Sister Meacham has some
land."
So saying, he shook hands and rode away a little
distance. Then he turned back and said :
" You heard that Brother Jones was dead .? "
"Yes."
" Well, I'm going to send word to Brother Lums-
den to take his place on Peterborough circuit till
Conference. I suppose some young exhorter can be
found to take Lumsden's place as second man on
Pottawottomie Creek, and Peterborough is too impor-
tant a place to be left vacant."
"I'm afraid Kike won't stand it," said Morton,
coldly.
"Oh! I hope he will. Peterborough isn't much more
unhealthy than Pottawottomie Creek. A little more
intermittent fever, maybe. But it is the best I can
do. The work is everything. The men are the Lord's.
Lumsden is a good man, and I should hate to lose
him, though. He'll stop and see you as he comes
through, I suppose. I think I'd better give you the
plan of his circuit, which I got the other day." After
adieux, a little more friendly than the first, the two
preachers parted again.
Morton mounted Dolly. The day was far advanced,
and he had an appointment to preach that very even-
ing at the Salt Fork school-house. He had never yet
failed to suffer from a disturbance of some sort when
242 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
he had preached in this rude neighborhood; and
having spoken very boldly in his last round, he was
sure of a perilous encounter. But now the prospect of
fighting with the wild beasts of Salt Fork was almost
enchanting. It would divert him from graver appre-
hensions.
CHAPTER XXVI.
ENGAGEMENT.
YOU do not like Morton in his vacillating state of
mind as he rides toward Salt Fork, weighing
considerations of right and wrong, of duty and disin-
clination, in the balance. He is not an epic hero, for
epic heroes act straightforwardly, they either know by
intuition just what is right, or they are like Milton's
Satan, unencumbered with a sense of duty. But Mor-
ton was neither infallible nor a devil. A man of sen-
sitive conscience cannot, even by accident, break a
woman's heart without compunction.
When Goodwin approached Salt Fork he was met
by Burchard, now sheriff of the county, and warned
that he woi''d be attacked. Burchard begged him to
turn back. Morton might have scoffed at the coward-
ice and time-serving of the sheriff, if he had not been
under such obligations to him, and had not been
touched by this new evidence of his friendship. But
Goodwin had never turned back from peril in his life.
" I have a right to preach at Salt Fork, Burchard,"
he said, "and I will do it or die."
Even in the struggle at Salt Fork Morton could
not get rid of his love affair. He was touched to find
lying on the desk in the school-house a little unsigned
244 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
billet in Ann Eliza's handwriting, uttering a warning
similar to that just given by Burchard.
It was with some tremor that he looked round, in
the dim light of two candles, upon the turbulent faces
between him and the door. His prayer and singing
were a little faint. But when" once he began to preach,
his combative courage returned, and his ringing voice
rose above all the shuffling sounds of disorder. The
interruptions, however, soon became so distinct that he
dared not any longer ignore them. Then he paused
in his discourse and looked at the rioters steadily.
" You think you will scare me. It is my business
to- rebuke sin. I tell you that you are .i set of ungodly
ruffians and law breakers. I tell youi neighbors here
that they are miserable cowards. They let lawless men
trample on them. I say, shame on them ! They ought
to organize and arrest you if it cost their lives."
Here a click was heard as of some one cocking a
horse-pistol. Morton turned pale ; but something in his
warm, Irish blood impelled him to proceed. "I called
you rufifians awhile ago," he said, huskily. " Now I
tell you that you are cut-throats. If you kill me here
to-night, I will show your neighbors that it is better
to die like a man than to live like a coward. The
law will yet be put in force whether you kill me or not.
There are some of you that would belong to Micajah
Harp's gang of robbers if you dared. But you are afraid;
and so you only give information and help to those
who are no worse, only a little braver than you are."
Goodwin had let his impetuous temper carry him
too far. He now saw that his denunciation had de-
ENGAGEMENT.
245
generated into a taunt, and this taunt had provoked
his enemies beyond measure. He had been foolhardy ;
for what good could it do for him to throw away his life
m a row ? There was
murder in the eyes of the
ruffians. Half-a-dozen
pistols were cocked in
quick succession and he
Facing a Mob. caught the glitter of
knives. A hasty consultation was taking place in the
back part of the room, and the few Methodists near him
huddled together like sheep.. If he intended to save his
246 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
life there was no time to spare. The address and pres-
ence of mind for which he had been noted in boyhood
did not fail him now. It would not do to seem to quail.
Without lowering his fiercely indignant tone, he raised
his right hand and demanded that honest citizens
should rally to his support and put down the riot.
His descending hand knocked one of the two candles
from the pulpit in the most accidental way in the
world. Starting back suddenly, he managed to upset
and extinguish the other just at the instant when the
infuriated roughs were making a combined rush upon
him. The room was thus made totally dark. Morton
plunged into the on-coming crowd. Twice he was
seized and interrogated, but he changed his voice and
avoided detection. When at last the crowd gave up
the search and began to leave the house, he drifted
with them into the outer darkness and rain. Once
upon Dolly he was safe from any pursuit.
When the swift-footed mare had put him beyond
danger, Morton was in better spirits than at any time
since the elder's solemn talk on the preceding Saturday.
He had the exhilaration of a sense of danger and of
. a sense of triumph. So bold a speech, and so masterly
an escape as he had made could not but demoralize
men like the Salt Forkers. He laughed a little at
himself for talking about dying and then running away,
but he inly determined to take the earliest opportunity
to urge upon Burchard the duty of a total suppression
of these lawless gangs. He would himself head a party
against them if necessary.
This cheerful mood gradually subsided into depres-
ENGAGEMENT. 24:7
sion as his mind reverted to the note in Ann Eliza's
writing. How thoughtful in her to send it! How-
delicate she was in not signing it ! How forgiving
must her temper be ! What a stupid wretch he was to
attract her affection, and now what a perverse soul
he was to break her devoted heart !
This was the light in which Morton saw the situa-
tion. A more suspicious man might have reasoned
that Ann Eliza probably knew no more of Goodwin's
peril at Salt Fork than was known, in all thp neigh-
boring country, and that her note was a gratuitous
thrusting of herself on his attention. A suspicious per-
son would have reasoned that her delicacy in not
signing the note was only a pretense, since Morton
had become familiar with her peculiar handwriting in
the affair of- the lawsuit in which he had assisted her.
But Morton was not suspicious. How could he be
suspicious of one upon whom the Lord had so mani-
festly poured out his Spirit.' Besides, the suspicious
view would not have been wholly correct, since Ann
Eliza did love Morton almost to distraction, and had
entertained the liveliest apprehensions of hie peril at
Salt Fork.
But with however much gratitude he might regard
Ann Eliza's action, Morton Goodwin could not quite
bring himself to decide on marriage. He could not
help thinking of the morning when negro Bob had
discovered him talking to Patty by the spring-house,
nor could he help contrasting that strong love with
the feebleness of the best affection he could muster for
the handsome, pious, and effusive Ann Eliza Meacham.
248 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
But as he proceeded round the circuit it became
more and more evident to Morton that he had suffered
in reputation by his cool treatment of Miss Meacham.
Elderly people love romance, and they could not for-
give him for not bringing the story out in the way
they wished. They felt that nothing could be so
appropriate as the marriage of a popular preacher with
so zealous a woman. It was a shock to their sense of
poetic completeness that he should thus destroy the
only fitting denouement. So that between people who
were disappointed at the come-out, and young men
who were jealous of the general popularity of the
youthful preacher, Morton's acceptability had visibly
declined. Nevertheless there was quite a party of
young women who, approved of his course. He had
found the minx out at last !
One of the results of the Methodist circuit system,
with its great quarterly meetings, was the bringing of
people scattered over a wide regidn into a sort of
organic unity and a community of feeling. It widened
the horizon. It was a curious and, doubtless, also a
beneficial thing, that over the whole vast extent of
half-civilized territory called Jenkinsville circuit there
was now a common topic for gossip and discussion.
When Morton reached the very northernmost of his
forty-nine preaching places, he had not yet escaped
from the excitement.
" Brother Goodwin," said Sister Sharp, as they sat
at breakfast, " whatever folks may say, 1 am sure you
had a perfect right to give up Sister Meacham. A
man ain't bound to marry a girl when he finds her
ENGAGEMENT. 249
out. / don't think it would take a smart man like
you long to find out thaf Sister Meacham isn't all she
pretends to be. I have heard some things about her
standing in Pennsylvania. I guess you found them
out."
" I never meant to marry Sister Meacham," said
Morton, as soon as he could recover from the shock,
and interrupt the stream of Sister Sharp's talk.
"Everybody thought you did."
" Everybody was wrong, then ; and as for finding
out anything, I can tell you that Sister Meacham is, I
believe, one of the best and most useful Christians in
the world."
" That's what everybody thought," replied the other,
maliciously, ' ' until you quit off going with her so sud-
denly. People have thought different since."
This shot took effect. Morton could bear that
people should slander him. But, behold ! a crop of
slanders on Ann Eliza herself was likely to grow out
of his mistake. In the midst of a most unheroic and,
as it seemed to him, contemptible vacillation and
perplexity, he came at last to Mount Zion meeting-
house. It was here that Ann Eliza belonged, and
here he must decide whether he would still leave her
to suffer reproach while he also endured the loss of
his own good name, or make a marriage which, to
those wiser than he, seemed in every way advisable.
Ann Eliza was not at meeting on this day. When
once the' benediction was pronounced, Goodwin re-
solved to free himself from remorse and obloquy by
the only honorable course. He would ride over to
250 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Sister Sims's, and end the matter by engaging himself
to Ann EHza.
Was it some latent, half - perception of Sister
Meacham's true character that made him hesitate ?
Or was it that a pure-hearted man always shrinks from
marriage without love ? He reined his horse at the
road-fork, and at last took the other path and claimed
the hospitality of the old class- leader of Mount Zion
class, instead of receiving Sister Sims's welcome. He
intended by this means to postpone his decision till
afternoon.
Out of the frying-pan into the fire ! The leader
took Brother Goodwin aside and informed him that
Sister Ann Eliza was very ill. "She might never
recover. It was understood that she was slowly dying
of a broken heart.
Morton could bear no more. To have made so
faithful a person, who had even interfered to save
his life, suffer in her spirit was bad enough; to have
brought reproach upon her, worse ; to kill her out-
right was ingratitude and murder. He wondered at
his own stupidity and wickedness. He rode in haste
to Sister Sims's. Ann Eliza, in fact, was not dan-
gerously ill, and was ill more of a malarious fever
than of a broken heart ; though her chagrin and
disappointment had much to do with it. Morton,
convinced that he was the author of her woes, felt
more tenderness to her in her emaciation than he had
ever felt toward her in her beauty. He could not
profess a great deal of love, so he contented himself
with expressing his gratitude for the Salt Fork warn-
ENGAGEMENT. 251
ing. Explanations about the past were awkward, but
fortunately Ann Eliza was ill and ought not to talk
much on exciting subjects. Besides, she did not seem
to be very exacting. Morton's offer of marriage was
accepted with a readiness that annoyed him. When
he rode away to his next appointment, he did not
feel so much relieved by having done his duty as he
had expected to. He could not get rid of a thought
that the high-spirited Patty would have resented an
offer of marriage under these circumstances, and on
such terms as Aim Eliza had accepted. And yet, one
must not expect all qualities in one person. What
could be finer than Ann Eliza's lustrous piety? She
was another Hester Ann Rogers, a second Mrs.
Fletcher, maybe. And how much she must love him
to pine away thus ! And how forgiving she was !
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE CAMP MEETING.
THE incessant activity of a traveling preacher's
life did not allow Morton much opportunity for
the society of the convalescent Ann Eliza. Fortunately.
For when he was with her out of meeting he found
her rather dull. To all expression of religious senti-
ment and emotion she responded sincerely and with
unction ; to Morton's highest aspirations for a life of
real self-sacrifice she only answered with a look of
perplexity. She could not understand him. He was
" so queer," she said.
But people whose lives are joined ought to make
the best of each other. Ann Eliza loved Morton, and
because she loved him she could endure what seemed
to her an unaccountable eccentricity. If Goodwin found
himself tempted to think her lacking in some of the
highest qualities, he comforted himself with reflecting
that all women were probably deficient in these regards.
For men generalize about women, not from many but
from one. And men, being egotists, suffer a woman's
love for themselves to hide a multitude of sins. And
then Morton took refuge in other people's opinions.
Everybody thought that Sister Meacham was just the
wife for him. It is pleasant to have the opinion of
THE CAMP MEETING. 253
all the world on your side where your own heart is
doubtful.
Sometimes, alas ! the ghost of an old love flitted
through the mind of Morton Goodwin and gave him
a moment of fright. But Patty was one of the things
of this world which he had solemnly given up. Of her
conversion he had not heard. Mails were few and
postage cost a silver quarter on every letter ; with
poor people, correspondence was an extravagance not
to be thought of except on the occasion of a death
or wedding. At farthest, one letter a year was all
that might be afforded. As it was, Morton was neither
very happy nor very miserable as he rode up to the
New Canaan camp-ground on a pleasant midsummer
afternoon with Ann Eliza by his side.
Sister Meacham did not lack hospitable enter-
tainment. So earnest .and gifted a Christian as she
was always welcome ; and now that she held a mort-
gage on the popular preacher every tent on the ground
would have been honored by her presence. Morton
found a lodging in the preacher's tent, where one bed,
larger, transversely, than that of the giant Og, was
provided for the collective repose of the preachers, of
whom there were half-a-dozen present. It was always
a solemn mystery to me, by what ingenious over-lapping
of sheets, blankets and blue-coverlets the sisters who
made this bed gave a cross-wise continuity to the bed-
clothing.
This meeting was held just six weeks after the
quarterly meeting spoken of in the last chapter. Good-
win's circuit lay on the west bank of the Big Wiaki
254 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
River, and this camp-meeting was held on the east
bank of that stream.
It was customary for all the neighboring preachers
to leave their circuits and lend their help in a camp-
meeting. All detached parties were drawn in to make
ready for a pitched battle. Morton had, in his ringing
voice, earnest delivery, unfaltering courage and quick
wit, rare qualifications for the rude campaign, and,
as the nearest preacher, he was, of course, expected to
help.
The presiding elder's order to Kike to repair to
Jonesville circuit had gone after the zealous itinerant
like " an arrow after a wild goose," and he had only
received it in season to close his affairs on Pottawot-
tomie Creek circuit and reach this camp-meeting on
his way to his new work. His emaciated face smote
Morton's heart with terror. The old comrade thought
that the death which Kike all but longed for could
not be very far away. And even now the zealous and
austere young man was so eager to reach his circuit
of Peterborough that he would only consent to tarry
long enough to preach on the first evening. His voice
was weak, and his appeals were often drowned in the
uproar of a mob that had come determined to make
an end of the meeting.
So violent was the opposition of the rowdies from
Jenkinsville and Salt Fork that the brethren were
demoralized. After the close of the service they gath-
ered in groups debating whether or not they should
give up the meeting. But two invincible men stood
in the pulpit looking out over the scene. Without a
THE CAMP MEETING. 255
thought of surrendering, Magruder and Morton Good-
win were consulting in regard to police arrangements.
" Brother Goodwin," said Magruder, " we shall have
the sheriff here in the morning. I am afraid he hasn't
got back-bone enough to handle these fellows. Do
you know him ? "
" Burchard 1 Yes ; I've known him two or three
years."
Morton could not help liking the man who had so
generously forgiven his gambling debt, but he had
reason to believe that a sheriff who went to Brewer's
Hole to get votes would find his hands tied by his
political alliances.
" Goodwin," said Magruder, " I don't know how to
spare you from preaching and exhorting, but you must
take charge of the police and keep order."
"You had better not trust me," said Goodwin.
" Why .? "
" If I am in command there'll be a fight. I don't
believe in letting rowdies run over you. If you put
me in authority, and give me the law to back me,
somebody '11 be hurt before morning. The rowdies
hate me and I am not fond of them. I've wanted
such a chance at these Jenkinsville and Salt Fork fel-
lows ever since I've been on the circuit."
" I wish you would clean them out," said the sturdy
old elder, the martial fire shining from under his
shaggy brows.
Morton soon had the brethren organized into a
police. Every man was to carry a heavy club ; some
were armed with pistols to be used in an emergency.
256 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Part of the force was mounted, part marched afoot.
Goodwin said that his father had fought King George,
and he would not be ruled by a mob. By such fan-
nings of the embers of revolutionary patriotism he
managed to infuse into them some of his own courage.
At midnight Morton Goodwin sat in the pulpit and
sent out scouts. Platforms of poles, six feet high and
covered with earth, stood on each side, of the stand
or pulpit. On these were bright fires which threw
their light over the whole space within the circle of
tents. Outside the circle were a multitude of wagons
covered with cotton cloth, in which slept people from a
distance who had no other shelter. In this outer
darkness Morton, as military dictator, had ordered
other platforms erected, and on these fires were now
kindling.
The returning scouts reported at midnight that the
ruffians, seeing the completeness of the preparations,
had left the camp-ground. Goodwin was the only man
who was indisposed to trust this treacherous truce. He
immediately posted his mounted scouts farther away
than before on every road leading to the ground, with
instructions to let him know instantly, if any body of
men should be seen approaching.
From Morton's previous knowledge of the people,
he was convinced that in the mob were some men
more than suspected of belonging to Micajah Harp's
gang of thieves. Others were allies of the gang of that
class which hesitates between a lawless disposition and
a wholesome fear of the law, but whose protection and
assistance is the right foot upon which every form of
THE CAMP MEETING. 257
brigandage stands. Besides these there were the reck-
less young men who persecuted a. camp-meeting from
a love of mischief for its own sake; men who were
not yet thieves, but from whose ranks the bands of
thieves were recruited. With these last Morton's his-
tory gave him a certain sympathy. As the classes
represented by the mob held the balance of power
in the politics of the county, Morton knew that he had
not much to hope from a trimmer such as Burchard.
About four o'clock in the morning one of the
mounted sentinels who had been posted far down the
road came riding in at full speed, with intelligence that
the rowdies were coming in force from the direction
of Jenkinsville. Goodwin had anticipated this, and he
immediately awakened his whole reserve, concentrating
the scattered squads and setting them in ambush on
either side of the wagon track that led to the camp-
ground. With a dozen mounted men well armed with
clubs, he took his own stand at a narrow place where
the foliage on either side was thickest, prepared to
dispute the passage to the camp. The men in am-
bush had orders to fall upon the enemy's flanks as
soon as the fight should begin in front. It was a
simple piece of strategy learned of the Indians.
The marauders rode on two by two until the lead-
ers, coming round a curve, caught sight of Morton and
his right hand man. Then there was a surprised rein-
ing up on the one hand, and a sudden dashing charge
on the other. At the first blow Goodwin felled his
man, and the riderless horse ran backward through
the ranks. The mob was taken by surprise, and before
258 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
the ruffians could rally Morton uttered a cry to his
men in the bushes, which brought an attack upon both
flanks. The rowdies fought hard, but from the begin-
ning the victory of the guard was assured by the
advantage of ambush and surprise. The only question
to be settled was that of capture, for Morton had
ordered the arrest of every man that the guard could
bring in. But so sturdy was the fight that only three
were taken. One of the guard received a bad flesh
wound from a pistol shot. Goodwin did not give up
pursuing the retreating enemy until he saw them dash
into the river opposite Jenkinsville. He then rode
back, and as it was getting light threw himself upon
one side of the great bunk in the preachers' tent, and
slept until he was awakened by the horn blown in the
pulpit for the eight o'clock preaching.
When Sheriff Burchard arrived on the ground that
day he was evidently frightened at the earnestness of
Morton's defence. Burchard was one of those politi-
cians who would have endeavored to patch up a
compromise with a typhoon. He was in a straife
between his fear of the animosity of the mob and
his anxiety to please the Methodists. Goodwin, taking
advantage of this latter feeling, got himself appointed
a deputy-sheriff, and, going before a magistrate, he
secured the issuing of writs for the arrest of those
whom he knew to be leaders. Then he summoned
his guard as a posse, and, having thus put law on his
side, he announced that if the ruffians came again
the guard must follow him until they were entirely
subdued.
THE CAMP MEETING. 259
Burchard took him aside, and warned him sol-
emnly that such extreme measures would cost his life.
Some of these men belonged to Harp's band, and he
would not be safe anywhere if he made enemies of
the gang. " Don't throw away your life," entreated
Burchard.
" That's what life is for," said Morton. " If a
man's life is too good to throw away in fighting the
devil, it isn't worth having." Goodwin said this in a
way that made Burchard ashamed of his own coward-
ice. But Kike, who stood by ready to depart, could
not help thinking that if Patty were in place of Ann
Eliza, Morton might .think life good for something
else than to be thrown away in a fight with rowdies.
As there was every sign of an approaching riot
during the evening service, and as no man could
manage the tempest so well as Brother Goodwin,
he was appointed to preach. A young theologian of
the present day would have drifted helpless on the
waves of such a mob. When one has a congregation
that listens because it ought to listen, one can afford
to be prosy; but an audience that will only listen
when it is compelled to listen is the best discipline in
the world for an orator. It will teach him methods of
homiletic arrangement which learned writers on Sacred
Rhetoric have never dreamed of.
The disorder had already begun when Morton Good-
win's tall figure appeared in the stand. Frontier-men
are very susceptible to physical effects, and there was
a clarion-like sound to Morton's voice well calculated
to impress them. Goodwin enjoyed battle ; every power
260 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
of his mind and body was at its best in the presence
of a storm. He knew better than to take a text. He
must surprise the mob into curiosity.
" There is a man standing back in the crowd
there," he began, pointing his finger in a certain
direction where there was much disorder, and pausing
until everybody was still, " who reminds me of a funny
story I once heard." At this point the turbulent sons
of Belial, who loved nothing so much as a funny
story, concluded to postpone their riot until they
should have their laugh. Laugh they did, first at one
funny story, and then at another stories with no
moral in particular, except the moral there is in a
laugh. Brother Mellen, who sat behind Morton, and
who had never more than half forgiven him for not
coming to a bad end as the result of disturbing a
meeting, was greatly shocked at Morton's levity in the
pulpit, but Magruder, the presiding elder, was de-
lighted. He laughed at each story, and laughed loud
enough for Goodwin to hear and appreciate the
senior's approval of his drollery. But somehow the
crowd did not know how, at some time in his dis-
course the Salt Fork rowdies did not observe when,
Morton managed to cease his drollery without detec-
tion, and to tell stories that brought tears instead of
laughter. The mob was demoralized, and, by keeping
their curiosity perpetually excited, Goodwin did not
give them time to rally at all. Whenever an inter-
ruption was attempted, the preacher would turn the
ridicule of the audience upon the interlocutor, and so
gain the sympathy of the rough crowd who were
THE CAMP MEETING. 261
habituated to laugh on the side of the winner in all
rude tournaments of body or mind. Knowing per-
fectly well that he would have to fight before the
night was over, Morton's mind was stimulated to its
utmost. If only he could get the religious interest
agoing, he might save some of these men instead of
punishing them. His soul yearned over the people.
His oratory at last swept out triumphant over every-
thing; there was weeping and sobbing; some fell in
uttering cries of anguish; others ran away in terror.
Even Burchard shivered with emotion when Morton
described how, step by step, a young man was led
from bad to worse, and then recited his own experi-
ence. At last there was the utmost excitement. As
soon as this hurricane of feeling had . reached the
point of confusion, the rioters broke the spell of Mor-
ton's speech and began their disturbance. Goodwin
immediately invited the penitents into the enclosed
pen-like place called the altar, and the whole space
was filled with kneeling mourners, whose cries ^d
groans made the woods resound. But at the same
moment the rioters increased their noisy demonstra-
tions, and Morton, finding Burchard inefficient to quell
them, descended from the pulpit and took command
of his camp-meeting police.
Perhaps the mob would not have secured headway
enough to have necessitated the severest measures if
it had not been for Mr. Mellen. As soon as he
detected the rising storm he felt impelled to try the
effect of his stentorian voice in quelling it. He did
not ask permission of the presiding elder, as he was in
262
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
duty bound to do, but as soon as there was a pause in
the singing he began to exhort. His style was violently
aggressive, and only served to provoke the mob. He
began with the true old Homeric epithets of early
Methodism, exploding them like bomb-shells. "You
are hair-hung and breeze-shaken over hell," he cried.
" You don't say ! " responded one of the rioters, to
the infinite amusement of the rest.
For five minutes Mellen proceeded to drop this kind
of religious aqua for-
tis upon the turbulent
crowd, which grew
more and more tur-
bulent under his in-
flammatory treatment.
Finding himself like-
ly to be defeated, he
turned toward Good-
win and demanded
tha't the camp-meet-
ing . police should
enforce order. But
Morton was contem-
plating a master-
stroke thlt should
annihilate the disorder in one battle, and he was not to
be hurried into too precipitate an attack.
Brother Mellen resumed his exhortation, and, as
small doses of nitric-acid had not allayed the irrita-
tion, he thought, it necessary to administer stronger
ones. " You'll go to hell," he cried, " and when you
"Hair-hung and Breeze-shaken."
THE CAMP MEETING. 263
get there your ribs will be nothing but a gridiron to
roast your souls in ! "
" Hurrah for the gridiron ! " cried the unappalled
ruffians, and Brother Mellen gave up the fight, reproach-
ing Morton hotly for not suppressing the mob. " I
thought you was a man," he said.
" They'll get enough of it before daylight," said
Goodwin, savagely. " Do you get a club and ride by
my side to-night, Brother Mellen ; I am sure you are a
man."
Mellen went for his horse and club, grumbling all
the while at Morton's tardiness.
"Where's Burchard .? " cried Morton.
But Burchard could not be found, and Morton felt
internal maledictions at Burchard's cowardice.
Goodwin had given orders that his scouts should
report to him the first attempt at concentration on the
part of the rowdies. He had not been deceived by
their feints in different parts of the camp, but had
drawn his men together. He knew that there was some
directing head to the mob, and that the only effectual
way to beat it was to beat it in solid form.
At last a young man came running to where Good-
win stood, saying: "They're tearing down a tent."
" The fight will be there," said Morton, mounting
deliberately. "Catch all you can, boys. Don't shoot
if you can help it. Keep close together. We have ,
got to ride all night."
He had increased his guard by mustering in every
able-bodied man, except such as were needed to con-
duct the meetings. Most of these men were Methodists,
264 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
but they were all frontiermen who knew that peace and
civilization have often to be won by breaking heads.
By the time this guard started the camp was in extreme
confusion ; women were running in every direction,
children were crying and men were stoutly denouncing
Goodwin for his tardiness.
Dividing his mounted guard of thirty men into two
parts, he sent one half round the outside of the camp-
ground in one direction, while he rode w_ith the other
to attack the mob on the other side. The foot-police
were sent through the circle to attack them in a third
direction.
As Morton anticipated, his delay tended to throw
the mob off their guard. They had demolished one
tent and, in great exultation, had begun on another,
when Morton's cavalry rode in upon them on two sides,
dealing heavy and almost deadly blows with their iron-
wood and hickory clubs. Then the footmen charged
them in front, and the mob were forced to scatter and
mount their horses as best they could. As Morion had
captured some of them, the rest rallied on horseback
and attempted a rescue. For two or three minutes
the fight was a severe one. The roughs made several
rushes upon Morton, and nothing but the savage
blows that Mellen laid about him saved the leader
from falling into their hands. At last, however, after
firing several shots, and wounding one of the guard, they
retreated, Goodwin vigorously persuading his men to
continue the charge. When the rowdies had been driven
a short distance, Morton saw by the light of a platform
torch, the same strangely dressed man who had taken
THE CAMP MEETING. 265
the money from his hand that day near Brewer's Hole.
This man, in his disguise of long beard and wolf-skin
cap, was trying to get past Mellen and into the camp
by creeping through the bushes.
" Knock him over," shouted Goodwin to Mellen.
" I know him he's a thief."
No sooner said than Mellen's club had felled him,
and but for the intervening brush-wood, which broke
the force of the blow, it might have killed him.
" Carry him back and lock him up," said Morton
to his men ; but the other side now made a strong
rush and bore off the fallen highwayman.
Then they fled, and this time, letting the less
guilty rowdies escape, Morton pursued the well-
known thieves and their allies into and through Jen-
kinsville, and on through the country, until the hunted
fellows abandoned their horses and fled to the woods
on foot. For two days more Morton harried them,
arresting one of them now and then until he had cap-
tured eight or ten. He chased one of these into
Brewer's Hole itself. The shoes had been torn from
his feet by briers in his rough flight, and he left
tracks of blood upon the floor. The orderly citizens
of the county were so much heartened by this boldness
and severity on Morton's part that they combined
against the roughs and took the work into their own
hands, driving some of the thieves away and terrifying
the rest into a sullen submission. The camp-meeting
went on in great triumph.
Burchard had disappeared how, nobody knew.
Weeks afterward a stranger passing through Jenkins-
266 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
ville reported that he had seen such a man on a keel-
boat leaving Cincinnati for the lower Mississippi, and
it soon came to be accepted that Burchard had found
a home in New Orleans, that refuge of broken adven-
turers. Why he had fled no one could guess.
CHAFTER XXVIII.
PATTY AND HER PATIENT.
WE left Patty standing irresolute in the road.
The latch-string of her father's house was
drawn in ; she must find another home. Every
Methodist cabin would be open to her, of course ;
Colonel Wheeler would be only too glad to receive
her. But Colonel Wheeler and all the Methodist peo-
ple were openly hostile to her father, and delicacy for-
bade her allying herself so closely with her father's
foes. She did not want to foreclose every door to a
reconciliation. Mrs. Goodwin's was not to be thought
of. There was but one place, and that was with Kike's
mother, the widow Lumsden, who, as a relative, was
naturally her first resort in exile.
Here she found a cordial welcome, and here she
found the schoolmaster, still attentive to the widow,
though neither he nor she dared think of marriage
with Kike's awful displeasure in the back-ground.
"Well, well," said Brady, when the homeless Patty
had received permission to stay in the cabin of her
aunt-in-law : " Well, well, how sthrange things comes to
pass. Miss Lumsden. You turned Moirton off yersilf
fer bein' a Mithodis' and now ye're the one that gits
sint adrift." Then, half musingly, he added : " I wish
268 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Moirton noo, now don't oi ? Revinge is swatc, and
this sort of revinge would be swater on many ac-
counts."
The helpless Patty could say nothing, and Brady
looked out of the window and continued, in a sort of
soliloquy : " Moirton would be that glad. Ha ! ha !
He'd say the divil niver sarved him a better thrick
than by promptin' the Captin to turn ye out. It'll
simplify matters fer Moirton. A sum's aisier to do
when its simplified, loike. An' now it'll be as aisy to
Moirton when he hears about it, as twice one is two
as simple as puttin' two halves togither to make a
unit." Here the master rubbed his hands in glee.
He was pleased with the success of his illustration.
Then he muttered : " They'll agree in ginder, number
and parson ! "
" Mr. Brady, I don't think you ought to make fun
of me."
" Make fun of ye ! Bliss yer dair little heart, it aint
in yer ould schoolmasther to make fun of ye, whin ye've
done yer dooty. I was only throyin' to congratilate
ye on how aisy Moirton would conjugate the whole
thing whin he hears about it."
" Now, Mr. Brady," said Patty, drawing herself up
with her old pride, " I know there will be those who
will say that I joined the church to get Morton back.
I want you to say that Morton is to be married was
probably married to-day and that I knew of it some
days ago."
Brady's countenance fell. " Things niver come out
roight," he said, as he absently put on his hat. " They
PATTY AND HER PATIENT. 269
talk about spicial providinces," he soliloquized, as he
walked away, " and I thought as I had caught one at
last. But it does same sometoimes as if a bluntheriii
Oirishman loike mesilf could turn the univarse better
if he had aholt of the stairin' oar. But, psha ! Oi've
only got one or two pets of me own to look afther.
God has to git husbands fer ivery woman ixcipt the old
maids. An' some women has to have two, of which I
hope is the Widdy Lumsden ! But Mithodism upsets
iverything. Koike's so religious that he can't love
anybody but God, and he don't know how to pity thim
that does. And Koike's made us both mortally afeard
of his goodness. I wish he'd fall dead in love himself
once ; thin he'd know how it fales ! "
Patty soon found that her father could not brook
her presence in the neighborhood, and that the widow's
hospitality to her was resented as an act of hostility to
him. She accordingly set herself to find some means
of getting away from the neighborhood, and at the
same time of earning her living.
Happily, at this moment came presiding elder Ma-
gruder to a quarterly meeting on the circuit to which
Hissawachee belonged, and, hearing of Patty's case, he
proposed to get her employment as a teacher. He had
heard that a teacher was wanted in the neighborhood
of the Hickory Ridge church, where the conference
had met. So Patty was settled as a teacher. For ten
hours a day she showed children how to "do sums,"
heard their lessons in Lindley Murray, listened to them
droning through the moralizing poems in the "Didactic"
department of the old English Reader, and taught
270
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
them spelling from the " a-b abs " to " in-com-pre-hen-
si-bil-i-ty " and its octopedal companions. And she
boarded round, but Dr. Morgan, the Presbyterian
ex-minister, when he learned that she was Kike's
cousin, and a sufferer for her religion, insisted that
X-
The School-mistress of Hickory Ridge.
her Sundays should be passed in his house. And
being almost as much a pastor as a doctor among the
people, he soon found Patty a rare helper in his labors
among the poor and the sick. Something of good-
PATTY AND HER PATIENT. 2Vl
breeding and refinement there was in her manner that
made her seem a being above the poor North Caro-
linans who had moved into the hollows, and her
kindness was all the more grateful on account of -her
dignity. She was ''a grand lady," they declared, and
besides was " a kinder sorter angel, like, ye know, in
her way of tendin' folks what's sick." They loved to
tell how " she nussed Bill Turner's wife through the
awfulest spell of the yaller janders you ever seed ;
an' toted Miss Cole's baby roun' all night the night
her ole man was fotch home shot through the arm
with his own good-fer-nothin' keerlessness. She's bet-
ter 'n forty doctors, root or calomile."
One day Doctor Morgan called at the school-house
door just as the long spelling-class had broken up,
and Patty was getting ready to send the children home.
The doctor sat on his horse while each of the boys,
with hat in one hand and dinner-basket in the other,
walked to the door, and, after the fashion of those good
old days, turned round and bowed awkwardly at the
teacher. Some bobbed their heads forward on their
breasts ; some jerked them sidewise ; some, more re-
spectful, bent their bodies into crescents. Each
seemed alike glad when he was through with this
abominable bit of ceremony, the only bit of ceremony
in the whole round of their lives. The girls, in short
linsey dresses, with copperas - dyed cotton pantalettes,
came' after, dropping " curcheys " ia a style that would
have bewildered a dancing-master.
" Miss Lumsden," said the doctor, when the teacher
appeared, "I am sorry to see you so tired. I want
272 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
you to go home with me. I have some work for you
to do to-morrow."
There were no buggies in that day. The roads
were mostly bridle-paths, and those that would admit
wagons would have shaken a buggy to pieces. Patty
climbed upon a fence-corner, and the doctor rode as
close as possible to the fence where she stood. Then
she dropped upon the horse behind him, and the two
rode off together.
Doctor Morgan explained to Patty that a strange
man was lying wounded at the house of a family
named Barkins, on Higgins's Run. The man refused
to give his name, and the family would not tell what
they knew about him. As Barkins bore a bad reputa-
tion, it was quite likely that the stranger belonged to
some band of thieves who lived by horse-stealing and
plundering emigrants. He seemed to be in great men-
tal anguish, but evidently distrusted the doctor. The
doctor therefore wished Patty to spend Saturday at
Barkins's, and do what she could for the patient. " It
is our business to do the man good," said Doctor
Morgan, " not to have him arrested. Gospel is always
better than Law."
On Saturday morning the doctor had a horse sad-
dled with a side-saddle for Patty, and he and she rode
to Higgins's Hollow, a desolate, rocky glen, where once
lived%a noted outlaw from whom the hollow took its
name, and where now resided a man who was sus-
pected of giving much indirect assistance to the gangs
of thieves that infested the country, though he was too
lame to be actively engaged in any bold enterprises.
PATTY ANB HER PATIENT. 27S
Barkins nodded his head in a surly fashion at Patty
as she crossed the threshold, and Mrs. Barkins, a
square-shouldered, raw-boned woman, looked half in-
clined to dispute the passage of any woman over her
door-sill. Patty felt a shudder of fear go through her
frame at the thought of staying in such a place all
day ; but Doctor Morgan had an authoritative way
with such people. When called to attend a patient,
he put the whole house under martial law.
''Mrs. Barkins, I hope our patient's better. He
needs a good deal done for him to-day, and I brought
the school-mistress to help you, knowing you had a
houseful of children and plenty of work."
" I've got a powerful sight to do, Doctor Morgan,
but you had orter know'd better'n to fetch a school-
miss in to spy out a body's housekeepin' 'thout givin'
folks half a chance to bresh up a little. I 'low she
haint never lived in no holler, in no log-house weth
ten of the wust childern you ever seed and a decrep-
pled ole man." She sulkily brushed oif a stool with
her apron and offered it to Patty. But Patty, with
quick tact, laid her sunbonnet on the bed, and, while
the doctor went into the only other room of the house
to see the patient, she seized upon the woman's dish-
towel and went to wiping the yellow crockery as Mrs.
Barkins washed it, and to prevent the crabbed remon-
strance which that lady had ready, she began to tell
how she had tried to wipe dishes when she was little,
and how she had upset the table and spilt everything
on the floor. She looked into Mrs. Barkins's face with
so much friendly confidence, her laugh had so much
274 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
assurance of Mrs. Barkins's concurrence in it, that the
square visage relaxed a little, and the woman pro-
ceeded to show her increasing friendliness by boxing
" Jane Marier " for " stan'in' too closte to the lady and
starrin at her that a-way."
Just then the doctor opened the squeaky door and
beckoned to Patty.
" I've brought you the only medicine that will do
you any good," he said, rapidly, to the sick man.
" This is Miss Lumsden, our school-mistress, and the
best hand in sickness you ever saw. She will stay
with you an hour."
The patient turned his wan face over and looked
wearily at Patty. He seemed to be a man of forty,
but suffering and his unshorn beard had given him
a haggard look, and he might be ten years younger.
He had evidently some gentlemanly instincts, for he
looked about the room for a seat for Patty. " I'll take
care of myself," said Patty, cheerfully seeing his anx-
ious desire to be polite.
" I will write down some directions for you," said
Dr. Morgan, taking out pencil and paper. When he
handed the directions to Patty they read :
" I leave you a lamb among wolves. But the Shep-
herd is here ! It is the only chance to save the poor
fellow's life or his soul. I will send Nettie over in an
hour with jelly, and if you want to come home with
her you can do so. I will stop at noon."
With that he bade her good-bye and was gone.
Patty put the room in order, wiped off the sick man's
temples, and he soon fell into a sleep. When he awoke
PATTY AND HER PATIENT. 215
she again wiped his face with cold water. " My mother
used to do that," he said.
" Is she dead ? " asked Patty, reverently.
" I think not. I have been a bad man, and it is a
wonder that I didn't break her heart. I would like to
see her ! "
"Where is she.?" asked Patty.
The patient looked at her suspiciously : " What's
the use of bringing my disgrace home to her door?"
he said.
" But I think she would bear your disgrace and
everything else for the sake of wiping your face as I
do."
"I believe she would," said the wounded man,
tremulously. " I would like to go to her, and ever
since I came away I have meant to go as soon as I
could get in the way of doing better. But I get worse
all the time. I'll soon be dead now, and I don't care
how soon. The sooner the better ; " and he sighed
wearily. r
Patty had the tact not to contradict him.
" Did your mother ever read to you .' " she asked.
" Yes ; she used to read the Bible on Sundays and
I used to run away to keep from hearing it. I'd give
everything to hear her read now."
" Shall I read to you ? "
" If you please."
" Shall I read your mother's favorite chapter ? "
said Patty.
" How do you know which that is .' I don't ! "
" Don't you think one woman knows how another
276 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
woman feels ? " asked Patty. And she sat by the little
four-light window and took out her pocket Testament
and read the three immortal parables in the fifteenth
of Luke. The man's curiosity was now wide awake ;
he listened to the story of the sheep lost and found,
but when Patty glanced at his face, it was unsatisfied ;
he hearkened to the story of the coin that was lost
and found, and still he looked at her with faint eager-
ness, as if trying to guess why she should call that his
mother's favorite chapter. Then she read slowly, and
with sincere emotion, that truest of fictions, the tale
of the prodigal son and his hunger, and his good reso-
lution, and his tattered return, and the old father's joy.
And when she looked up, his eyes tightly closed could
not hide his tears.
" Do you think that is her favorite chapter ? " he
asked.
" Of course it must be," said Patty, conclusively.
" And you'll notice that this prodigal son didn't wait
to make himself better, or even until he could get a
new suit of clothes.''
The sick man said nothing.
The raw-boned Mrs Barkins came to the door at
that moment and said :
" The doctor's gal's out yer and want's to see
you."
" You wont gd away yet ? " asked the patient,
anxiously.
" I'll stay," said Patty, as she left the room.
Nettie, with her fresh face and dimpled cheeks,
was standing timidly at the outside door. Patty took
PATTY AND HER PATIENT. 277
the jelly from her hand and sent a note to the Doc-
tor:
" The patient is doing well every way, and I am in
the safest place in the world doing my duty."
And when the doctor read it he said, in his nerv-
ously abrupt fashion ; " Perfect angel !"
CHAPTER XXIX.
PATTY S JOURNEY.
EVEN wounds and bruises heal more rapidly when
the heart is cheered, and as Patty, after spend-
ing Saturday and Sunday with the patient, found time
to come in and give him his breakfast every morning
before she went to school, he grew more and more
cheerful, and the doctor announced in his sudden style
that he'd "get aloijg." In all her interviews Patty
was not only a woman but a Methodist. She read
the Bible and talked to the man about repentance ;
and she would not have been a Methodist of that day
had she neglected to pray with him. She could not
penetrate his reserve. She could not guess whether
what she said had any influence on him or not. Once
she was startled and lost faith in any good reSult of
her labors when she happened, in arranging things
about the ropm, to come upon a hideous wolf-skin cap
and some heavy false-whiskers. She had more than
suspected all along that her patient was a highway-
man, but upon seeing the very disguises in which his
crimes had been committed, she shuddered, and asked
herself whether a man so hardened that he was capable
of theft perhaps of murder could ever be any better.
She found herself, after that, trying to imagine how
PATTYS JOURNEY. 279
the wounded man would look in so fierce a mask.
But she soon remembered all that she had learned pf
the Methodist faith in the power of the Divine Spirit
working in the worst of sinners, and she got her tes-
tament and read aloud to the highwayman the story
of the crucified thief.
It was on Thursday morning, as .she helped him
take his breakfast he was sitting propped up in bed
that he startled her most effectually. Lifting his
eyes, and looking straight at her with the sort of stare
that comes of feebleness, he asked :
" Did you ever know a young Methodist circuit
rider named Goodwin ? "
Patty thought that he was penetrating her secret.
She turned away to hide her face, and said :
" I used to go to school with him when we were
children."
" I heard him preach a sermon awhile ago," said
the patient, " that made me tremble all over. He's a
great preacher. I wish I was as good as he is."
iPatty made some remark about his having been a
good boy.
" Well, I don't know," said the patient ; " I used
to hear that he had been a little hard swore and
drank and gambled, to say nothing of dancing and
betting on horses. But they said some girl jilted him
in that day. I suppose he got into bad habits because
she jilted him, or else she jilted him because he was
bad. Do you know anything about it .'' "
" Yes."
" She's a heartless thing, I suppose .' "
280 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Patty reddened, but the sick man did not see it.
She was going to defend herself he must know that
she was the person ^but how ? Then she remembered
that he was only repeating what had been a matter of
common gossip, and some feeling of mischievousness
led her to answer :
" She acted badly turned him off because he be-
came a Methodist."
" But there was trouble before that, I thought.
When he gambled away his coat and hat one night."
" Trouble with her father, I think," said Patty,
casting about in her own mind how she might change
the conversation.
" Is she alive yet 1 " he asked.
" Yes."
" Give her head to marry Goodwin now, I'll bet,"
said the man.
Patty now plead that she must hasten to school.
She omitted reading the Bible and prayer with the
patient for that morning. It was just as well. There are
states of mind not favorable to any but the niost
private devotions.
On Friday evening Patty intended to go by the
cabin a moment, but on coming near she saw horses
tied in front of it, and her heart failed her. She
reasoned that these horses belonged to members of the
gang and she could not bring herself to plunge into
their midst in the dusk of the evening. But on Satur-
day morning she found the strangers not yet gone, and
heard them speak of the sick man as " Pinkey." " Too
soft ! too soft ! altogether," said one. " We ought to
PATTY'S JOURNEY. 281
have shipped him " Here the conversation was
broken off.
The sick man, whom the others called Pinkey, she
found very uneasy. He was glad to see her, and told
her she must stay by him. He seemed anxious for
the men to go away, which at last they did. Then
he listened until Mrs. Barkins and her children became
sufficiently uproarious, to warrant him in talking.
" I want you to save a man's -life."
" Whose ? "
"Preacher Goodwin's."
Patty turned pale. She had not the heart to ask
a question.
" Promise me that you will not betray me and I'll
tell you all about it."
Patty promised.
" He's to be killed as he goes through Wild Cat
Woods on Sunday afternoon. He preaches in Jenkins-
ville at eleven, and at Salt Fork at three. Between
the two he will be killed. You must go yourself.
They'll never suspect you of such a ride. If any man
goes out of this settlement, and there's a warning given,
he'll be shot. You must go through the woods to-
night. If you go in the daytime, you and I will both
be killed, maybe. Will you do it.?"
Patty had her full share of timidity. But in a
moment she saw a vision of Morton Goodwin slam.
" I will go."
" You must not tell the doctor a word about where
you're going ; you must not tell Goodwin how you got
the information."
282 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
" He may not believe me."
" Anybody would believe you."
" But he will think that I have been deceived, and
he cannot bear to look like a coward."
" That's true," said Pinkey. " Give me a piece of
paper. I will write a word that will convince him."
He took a little piece of paper, wrote one word
and folded it. " I can trust you.; you must not open
this paper," he said.
" I will not," said Patty.
" And now you must leave and not come back
here until Monday or Tuesday. Do not leave the
settlement until five o'clock. Barkins will watch you
when you leave here. Don't go to Dr. Morgan's till
afternoon and you will get rid of all suspicion. Take
the east road when you start, and then if anybody is
watching they will think that you are going to the
lower settlement. Turn round at Wright's corner. It
will be dark by the time you reach the Long Bottom,
but there is nly one trail through the woods. You
must ride through to-night or you cannot reach Jenk-
insville to-morrow. God will help you, I suppose, if
He ever helps anybody, which I don't more than
half believe."
Patty went away bewildered. The journey did not
seem so dreadful as the long waiting. She had to
appear unconcerned to the people with whom she
boarded. Toward evening she told them she was
going away until Monday, and at five o'clock she was
at the doctor's door, trembling lest some mishap should
prevent her getting a horse.
PATTY'S JOURNEY. 283
"Patty, howdy?" said the doctor, eyeing her agitat-
ed face sharply. "I didn't find you at Barkins's as I
expected when I got there this morning. Sick jpan
did not say much. Anything wrong? What scared
you away ? "
" Doctor, I want to ask a favor."
"You shall have anything you ask,"
" But I want you to let me have it on trust, and
ask me no questions and make no objections."
" I will trust you."
" I must have a horse at once for a journey.''
" This evening ? "
"This evening."
" But, Patty, I said I would trust you ; but to
go away so late, unless it is a matter of life and
death "
"It is a matter of life and death."
" And you can't trust me ? "
" It is not my secret. I promised not to tell you."
"Now, Patty, I must break my promise and ask
questions. Are you certain you are not deceived?
Mayn't there be some plot? Mayn't I go with you?
Is it likely that a robber should take any interest in
saving the life of the person you speak of?"
Patty looked a little startled. " I may be de-
ceived, but I- feel so sure that I ought to go that I
will try to go on foot, if I cannot get a horse."
" Patty, I don't like this. But I can only trust
your judgment. You ought not to have been bound
not to tell me."
" It is a matter of life and death that I shall go.
284 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
It is a matter of life and death to another that it
shall not be known that I went. It is a matter of life
and* death to you and me both that you shall not
go with me."
" Is the life you are going to save worth risking
your own for ? Is it only the life of a robber .? "
" It is a life worth more than mine. Ask me no
more questions, but have Bob saddled for me." Patty
spoke as one not to be refused.
The horse was brought out, and Patty mounted,
half eagerly and half timidly.
" When will you come back ? "
" In time for school, Monday."
" Patty, think again before you start," called the
doctor.
" There's no time to think," said Patty, as she rode
away.
" I ought to have forbidden it," the doctor mut-
tered to himself half a hundred times in the next
forty-eight hours.
When she had ridden a mile on the road thai led
to the " lower settlement " she turned an acute angle,
and came 'back on the hypothenuse of a right-angled
triangle, if I may speak so geometrically. She thus
went more than two miles to strike the main trail
toward Jenkinsville, at a point only a mile away from
her starting-place. She reached the woods in Long
Bottom just as Pinkey told her she would, at dark.
She was appalled at the thought of riding sixteen miles
through a dense forest of beech trees in the night
over a bridle-path. She reined up her horse, folded
PATTY'S JOURNEY. 285
her hands, and offered a fervent prayer for courage
and help, and then rode into the blackness ahead.
There is a local tradition yet lingering in this very
valley in Ohio in regard to this dark ride of Patty's.
I know it will be thought incredible, but in that day
marvelous things were not yet out of date. This
legend, which reaches me from the very neighborhood
of the occurrence, is that, when Patty had nerved her-
self for her lonely and perilous ride by prayer, there
came to her, out of the darkness of the forest, two
beautiful dogs. One of them started ahead of her
horse and one of them became her rear-guard. Pro-
tected and comforted by her dumb companions, Patty
rode all those lonesome hours in that wilderness bridle-
path. She came, at midnight, to a settler's house on
the farther verge of the unbroken forest and found
lodging. The dogs lay in the yard. In the early
morning the settler's wife came out and spoke to them
but they gave her no recognition at alL Patty came a
few moments later, when they arose and greeted her
with all the eloquence of dumb friends, and then,
having seen her safely through the woods and through
the night, the two beautiful dogs, wagging a friendly
farewell, plunged again into the forest and went no
man knows whither.
Such is the legend of Patty's Ride as it came to
me well avouched. Doubtless Mr. John Fiske or Mr.
M. D. Conway could explain it all away and show
how there was only one dog, and that he was not
beautiful, but a stray bull-dog with a stumpy tail. Or
that the whole thing is but a "solar myth." The
286 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
middle-ages have not a more pleasant story than this
of angels sent in the form of dogs to convoy a brave
lady on a noble mission through a dangerous forest.
At any rate, Patty believed that the dumb guardians
were answers to her prayer. She bade them good-by
as they disappeared in the mystery whence they came,
and rode on, rejoicing in so signal a mark of God's
favor to her enterprise. Sometimes her heart was sorely
troubled at the thought of Morton's being already the
husband of another, and all that Sunday morning she
took lessons in that hardest part of Christian living
the uttering of the little petition which gives all the
inevitable over into God's hands and submits to the
accomplishment of His will.
She reached Jenkinsville at half-past eleven. Meet-
ing had already begun. She knew the Methodist
church by its general air of square ugliness, and near
it she hitched old Bob.
When she entered the church Morton was preach-
ing. Her long sun-bonnet was a sufficient disguise,
and she sat upon the back seat listening to the voice
whose music was once all her own. Morton was
preaching on self-denial, and he mad some allusions
to his own trials when he became a Christian which
deeply touched the audience, but which moved none
so much as Patty.
The congregation was dismissed but the members
remained to " class," which was always led by the
preacher when he was present. Most of the members
sat near the pulpit, but when the " outsiders " had
gone Patty sat lonesomely on the back seat, with a
PATTY'S JOURNEY. 287
large space between her and the rest. Morton asked
each one to speak, exhorting each in turn.- At last,
when all the rest ha^ spoken, he walked back to where
Patty sat, with her face hidden in her sun-bonnet, and
thus addressed her :
"My strange sister, will you tell us how it is with
you to-day? Do you feel that you have an interest
in the Savior.? "
Very earnestly, simply, and with a tinge of melan-
choly Patty spoke. There was that in her superior
diction and in her delicacy of expression that won
upon the listeners, so that, as she ceased, the brethren
and sisters uttered cordial ejaculations of " The Lord
bless- our strange sister," and so on. But Morton }
From the first word he was thrilled with the familiar
sound of the voice. It could not be Patty, for why
should Patty be in Jenkinsville .' And above all, why
should she be in class-meeting.' Of her conver-
sion he had not heard. But though it seemed to
him impossible that it could be Patty, there was yet
a something in voice and manner and choice of words
that had almost overcome him ; and though he was
noted for the 'freshness of the counsels that he gave
in class-meeting, he was so embarrassed by the sense
of having known the speaker, that he could not think
of anything to say. He fell hopelessly into that trite
exhortation with which the old leaders were wont to
cover their inanity.
"Sister," he said, "you know the way walk in it."
Then the brethren and sisters sang:
"O brethren will you meet me
On Canaan's happy shore?"
288 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
And the meeting was dismissed.
The members thought themselves bound to speak
to the strange sister. She evaded their kindly ques-
tions as they each shook hands with her, only answer-
ing that she wished to speak with Brother Goodwin.
The preacher was eager and curious to converse with
her, but one of the old brethren had button-holed him
to complain that Brother Hawkins had 'tended a bar-
becue the week before, and he thought that he had
ought to be " read out " if he didn't make confession.
When the old brother had -finished his complaint and
had left the church, Morton was glad to see the strange
sister lingering at the door. He offered his hand and
said:
" A stranger here, I suppose ? "
" Not quite a stranger, Morton."
" Patty, is this you ? " Morton exclaimed
Patty for her part was pleased and silent.
" Are you a Methodist then .' "
" I am."
" And what brought you to Jenkinsville ? " he said,
greatly agitated.
" To save your life. I am glad I can make you
some amend for the way I treated you the last time I
saw you." .
" To save my life ! How .'' "
" I came to tell you that if you go to Salt Fork this
afternoon you will be killed on the way."
"How do you know?"
" You must not ask any questions. I cannot tell
you anything more."
PATTY'S JOURNEY. 289
" I am afraid, Patty, you have believed somebody
who wanted to scare me."
Patty here remembered the mysterious piece of
paper which Pinkey had given her. She handed it to
Morton, saying :
" I don't know what is in this, but the person who
sent the message said that you would understand."
Morton opened the paper and sta4fted.- "Where is
he ? " he asked.
" You must not ask questions," said Patty,' smiling
faintly.
" And you rode all the way from Hissawachee to
tell me ? "
" Not at all. When I joined the church Father
pulled the latch-string in. I am teaching school at
Hickory Ridge."
" Come, Patty, you must have some dinner." Mor-
ton led her horse to the house of one of the mem-
bers, introduced her as an old schoolmate, who had
brought him an important warning, and asked that she
receive some dinner.
He then asked Patty to let him go back with her
or send an escort, both of which she firmly refused.
He left the house and in a minute sat on his Dolly
before the gate. At sight of Dolly Patty could have
wept. He called her to the gate.
" If you won't let me go with you I must go to
Salt Fork. These men must understand that I am not
afraid. I shall ride ten miles farther round and they
will never know how I did it. Dolly can do it, though.
How shall I thank you for risking your life for me ?
290 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Patty, if I can ever serve you let me know, and I'll
die for you. I would rather die for you than not."
" Thank you, Morton. You are married, I hear."
" Not married, but I am to be married." He
spoke half bitterly, but Patty was too busy suppressing
her own emotion to observe his tone.
" I hope you'll be happy." She had determined to
say so much.
" Patty, I- tell you I am wretched, and will be till
I die. I am marrying one I never chose. I am
utterly miserable. Why did n't you leave me to be
waylaid and killed.? My life is n't worth the saving.
But God bless you, Patty."
So saying, he touched Dolly with the spurs and
was soon gone away around the Wolf Creek road a
long hard ride, with no dinner, and a sermon to
preach at three o'clock.
And all the hour that Patty ate and rested in Jen-
kinsville, her hostess entertained her with accounts of
Sister Ann Eliza Meacham, whom Brother Goodwin
was to marry. She heard how eloquent was Sister
Meacham in prayer, how earnest in Christian labor, and
what a model preacher's wife she would be. But the
good sister added slyly that she did n't more than half be-
lieve Brother Goodwin wanted to marry at all. He'd tried
his best to give Ann Eliza up once, but could n't do it.
When Patty rode out of the village that afternoon
she did her best, as a good Christian, to feel sorry
that Morton could not love the one he was to marry.
In an intellectual way she did regret it, but in her
heart she was a woman.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE SCHOOLMASTER AND THE WIDOW.
WHEN Kike had appeared at the camp meeting, as
we related, it was not difficult to forecast his fate.
Everybody saw that he was going into a consumption.
One year, two years at farthest, he might manage to
live, but not longer. Nobody knew this so well as
Kike himself. He rejoiced in it. He was one of
those rare spirits to whom the invisible world is not
a dream but a reality, and to whom religious duty is
a voice never neglected. That he had sacrificed his
own life to his zeal he understood perfectly well, and
he had no regrets except that he had not been more
zealous. What was life if he could save even one
soul .?
"But," said Morton to him one day, "you are
wrong, Kike. If you had taken care of yourself you
might have lived to save so many more."
" Morton, if your eye were fastened on one man
drowning," replied Kike, "and you thought you could
save him at the risk of your health, you wouldn't stop
to calculate that by avoiding that peril you might live
long enough to save many others. When God puts a
soul before me I save that one if it costs my life.
When I am gone God will find others. It is glorious
to work for God, but it is awful. What if by some
292 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
neglect of mine a soul should drop into hell ? O !
Morton, I am oppressed with responsibility ! I will be
glad when God shall say, It is enough."
Few of the preachers remonstrated with Kike. He
was but fulfilling the Methodist ideal; they admired
him while most of them could not quite emulate him.
Read the minutes of the old conferences and you will
see everywhere among the brief obituaries, headstones
in memory of young men who laid down their lives as
Kike was doing. Men were nothing the work was
everything. Methodism let the dead bury their dead;
it could hardly stop to plant a spear of grass over the
grave of one of its own heroes.
But Pottawottomie Creek circuit was poor and wild,
and it had paid Kike only five dollars for his whole
5 nine months' work. Two of this he had spent for
horse-shoes, and two he had given away. The other
one had gone for quinine. Now he had no clothes
that would long hold together. He would ride to
Hissawachee and get what his mother had carded and
spun, and woven, and cut, and sewed for the son whom
she loved all the more that he seemed no longer to be
entirely hers. He. could come back in three days.'
Two days more would suffice to reach Peterborough
circuit. So he sent on to the circuit, in advance, his
appointments to preach, and rode off to Hissawachee.
But he did not get back to camp-meeting. An attack
of fever held him at home for several weeks.
At last he was better and had set the day for his
departure from home. His mother saw what everybody
saw, that if Kike ever lived to return to his home it
THE SCHOOLMASTER AND THE WIDQ.W. 293
would only be to die. And as this was, perhaps, his
last visit, Mrs. Lumsden felt in duty bound to tell him
of her intention to marry Brady. While Brady thought
to do the handsome thing by secretly getting a mar-
riage license, intending, whenever the widow should
mention the subject to Kike, to immediately propose
that Kike should perform the ceremony of marriage.
It was quite contrary to the custom of that day for a
minister to officiate at a wedding of one of his own
family ;, Brady defied custom, however. But whenever
Mrs. Lumsden tried to approach Kike on the subject, her
heart failed her. He was so wrapped up in heavenly
subjects, so full of exhortations and aspirations, that she
despaired beforehand of making him understand her
feelings. Once she began by alluding to her loneliness,
upon which Kike assured her that if she put her trust
in the Lord he would be with her. What was she to
do.' How make a rapt seer like Kike understand the
wants of ordinary mortals? And that, too, when he
was already bidding adieu to this world .?
The last morning had come, and Brady was urging
on the weeping widow that she must go into the room
where Kike was stuffing his small wardrobe into his
saddle-bags, and tell him what was in their hearts.
" Oh, I can't bear to," said she. " I won't never
see him any more and I might hurt him, and "
"Will," said Brady, "thin I'll hev to do it mesilf."
"If you only would!" said she, imploringly.
"But it's so much more appropriate for you to do
it, Mrs. Lumsden. If I do it, it'll same jist loike
axin' the b'y's consint to marry his mother."
294 THE CIRCUIT RIDEli.
" But I can't noways do it," said the widow. " If
you love me you might take that load offen me."
" I'll do it if it kills me, sthraight," and Brady
marched into the sitting-room, where Kike, exhausted
by his slight exertion, was resting in the shuck-bottom
rocking-chair. Brady took a seat opposite to him on
a chair made out of a transformed barrel, and reached
up his iron gray hair uneasily. To his surprise Kike
began the conversation.
" Mr. Brady, you and mother a'n't acting very
wisely, I think," said Kike.
"Ye've noticed us, thin," said Brady, in terror.
" To be sure I have."
"Will, now, Koike, I'll till you fwat I'm thinkin'.
Ye're pecooliar loike ; ye don't know how to sympa-
thoize with other folks because ye're livin' roight up
in hiven all the toime."
" Why don't you live more in heaven .? "
" Will, I think I'd throy if I had somebody to help
me," said Brady, adroitly. " But I'm one of the koind
that's lonesome, and in doire nade of company. I
was jilted whin I was young, and I thought I'd niver
be a fool agin. But ye see ye ain't niver been in
love in all yer loife, and how kin ye fale fer others?"
" Maybe I have been in love, too," said Kike, a
strange softness coming into his voice.
" Did ye iver ! Who'd a thought it .? " And Brady
made large eyes at him, " Thin ye ought to fale fer the
infarmities of others," he added with some exultation.
"I do. That's why I said you and mother were
very foolish."
THE SCHOOLMASTER AND THE WIDOW. 295
" Fwy, now ; there it is agin. Fwat do ye mane ? "
. "Why this. When I was here before I saw that
you and mother had taken a liking to each other. I
thought by this time you'd have been married. And
I didn't see any reason why you shouldn't. But you're
as far away as ever. Here's mother's land that needs
somebody to take care of it. I am going away never
to come back. If I could see you married the only
earthly care 1 have would be gone, and I could die in
peace, whenever and wherever the Lord calls me."
" God bliss ye, Koike," said Brady, wiping his eyes.
" Fwy didn't you ,say that before ? Ye're a prophet
and a angel, I belave. I wish I was half as good, or a
quarther. God bliss ye, me boy. I wish I wish ye
would thry to live afwoile, I've been athrying' and
your mother's been athryin' to muster up courage to
spake to ye about this, and ye samed so hivenly we
thought ye would be displased. Now, will ye marry
us before ye go?"
"I haven't got any license."
" Here 'tis, in me pocket."
"Where's a witness or two?"
" I hear some women-folks come to say good-bye
to ye in the other room."
"I'd like to marry you now,'' said Kike. " I must
get away in an hour."
And he married them. They wept over him, and
he made no concealment that he was going away
for the last -time. He rode out from Hissawachee
never to come back. Not sad, but exultant, that he
had sacrificed everything for Christ and was soon to
296 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
enter into the life everlasting. For, faithless as we are
in this day, let us never hide from ourselves the fact
that the faith of a martyr is indeed a hundred fold
more a source of joy than houses and lands, and wife
and children.
CHAPTER XXXI.
KIKE.
TO reach Peterborough Kike had to go through
Morton's great diocese of Jenkinsville Circuit.
He could not ride far. Even so intempera'te a zealot
as Kike admitted so much economy of force into his
calculations. He must save his strength in journeying
or he could not reach his circuit, much less preach
when he got there. At the close of his second day
he inquired for a Methodist house at which to stop,
and was directed to the double-cabin of a " located "
preacher one who had been a " travelling " preacher,
but, having married, was under the necessity of entan-
gling himself with the things of this world that he might
get bread for his children. As he rode up to the
house Kike gladly noted the horses hitched to the
fence as an evidence thai there must be a meeting in
progress. He was in Morton's circuit; who could tell
that he should not meet him here?
When Kike entered the house, Morton stood in the
door between the two rooms preaching, with the back
of a " split-bottomed " chair for a pulpit. For a mo-
ment the pale face of Kike, so evidently smitten with
death, appalled him ; then it inspired him, and Morton
never spoke better on that favorite theme of the early
298 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Methodist evangelist the rest in heaven than while
drawing his inspiration from the pallid countenance of
his comrade.
" Ah ! Kike ! " he said, when the meeting was dis-
missed, " I wish you had my body."
" What do you want to kefep me out of heaven for,
Mort ? Let God have his way," said Kike, smiling
contentedly.
But long after Kike slept that night Morton lay
awake. He could not let the poor fellow go off alone.
So in the. morning he arranged with the located brother
to take his appointments for awhile and let him ride
one day with Kike.
" Ride ten or twenty if you want to," said the ex-
preacher. "The corn's laid by and- I've got nothing to
do, and I'm spoiling for a preach."
Peterborough circuit lay off to the southeast of
Hickory Ridge, and Morton, persuaded that Kike was
unfit to preach, endeavored to induce him to turn aside
and rest at Dr. Morgan's, only ten miles out of his
road.
" I tell you, Morton, I've got very little strength
left. I cannot spend it better than in trying to save*
souls. There's Peterborough vacant three months since
Brother Jones was first taken sick. I want to make
one or two rounds at least, preaching with all the
heart I have. Then I'll cease at once to work and
live, and who knows but that I may slay more in my
death than in my life .' "
But Morton feared that he would not be able to
make one round. He thought he had an overestimate
KIKE. 299
of his strength, and that the final break-down might
come at any moment. So, on the morning of the
second day he refused to yield to Kike's entreaties to
return. He would see him safe among the members
on Peterborough circuit, anyhow.
Now it happened that they missed the trail and
wandered far out of their way. It rained all the after-
noon, and Kike got drenched in crossing a stream.
Then a chill came on, and Morton sought shelter.
He stopped at a cabin. ,
" Come in, come in, brethren," said the settler,
as soon as he saw them. " I 'low ye're preachers.
Brother Goodwin I know. Heerd him down at
camp-meetin' last fall, time conference met on the
Ridge. And this brother looks mis'rable. Got the
shakes, I 'low 1 Your name, brother, is
"Brother Lumsden," said Morton.
" Lumsden .? Wy, that air's the very name of our
school-miss, and she's stayin' here jes' now. I kinder
recolleck that you was sick up at Dr. Morgan's, con-
ference time. Hey ? "
Morton looked bewildered.
" How far is Dr. Morgan's from here .' "
" Nigh onto three quarter 'round the road, I 'low.
Ain't it, Sister Lumsden } " This last to Patty, who at
that moment appeared from the bedroom, and without
answering the question, greeted Mortoi) a:nd Kike with
a cry of joy. Patty was " boarding round," and it was
her time to stay here.
" How did we get here ? We aimed at Lanham's
Ferry," said Morton, bewildered.
300
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
" Tuck the wrong trail ten mile back, I 'low. You
should've gone by Hanks's Mills."
Despite all protestations from the Methodist brother,
Morton was determined to take Kike to Dr. Morgan's.
Kike was just sick enough to be passive, and he suf-
The Reunion.
fered himself, to be put back into the saddle to ride
to the doctor's. Patty, meanwhile, ran across the fields
and gave warning, so that Kike was summarily stowed
away in the bed he had occupied before. Thus do
KIKE. 301
men try to run away from fate, and rush into her arras
in spite of themselves.
It did not require very great medical skill to under-
stand what must be the result of Kike's sickness.
" What is the matter with him, Doctor .' " asked
Morton, next morning.
"Absolute physical bankruptcy, sir," answered the
physician, in his abrupt manner. "There's not water
enough left in the branch to run the mill seven days.
Wasted life, sir, wasted life. It is a pity but you
Methodists had a little moderation in your zeal."
Kike uneasily watched the door, hoping every
minute that he might see Nettie come in. But she did
not come. He had wished to avoid her fa,ther's house
for fear of seeing her, but he could not bear to
be thus near her and not see her. Toward evening
he called Patty to him.
" Lean down here ! " he said.
Patty put her ear down that nobody might hear.
" Where's Nettie .' " asked Kike.
" About the house, somewhere," said Patty.
" Why don't she come in to see me .' "
" Not because she doesn't care for you,'' said Patty;
" she seems to be crying half the time."
Kike watched the door uneasily all that evening.
But Nettie did not come. To have come into Kike's
room would have been to have revealed her love for
one who had never declared his love for her. The
mobile face of Nettie disclosed every emotion. No
wonder she was fain to keep away. And yet the desire
to see him almost overcame her fear of seeing him.
302 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
When the doctor came in ^o see Kike after breakfast
the next morning, the patient looked at him wistfully.
" Doctor Morgan, tell me the truth. Will I ever
get up ? "
" You can never get up, my dear boy,'' said the
physician, huskily.
A smile of relief spread over Kike's face. At that
word the awfyl burden of his morbid sense of respon-
sibility for the world's salvation, the awful burden of
a self-sacrifice that was terrible and that must be life-
long, slipped from his weary soul. There was then
nothing more to be done but to wait for the Master's
release. He shut his eyes, murmured a " Thank God ! "
and lay for minutes, motionless. As the doctor made a
movement to leave him. Kike opened his eyes and
looked at him eagerly.
" What is it, my boy ? " said Morgan, stroking the
straight black hair off Kike's forehead, and petting him
as though he were a child. " What do you want ? "
" Doctor " said Kike, and then closed his eyes
again.
" Don't be afraid to tell me what is in your heart,
dear boy." The tears were in thp doctor's eyes.
" If you think it best if you think it best, mind
I would like to see Nettie."
"Of course it is best. I am glad you mentioned
it. It will do her good, poor soul."
" If you think it best "
" Well ? " said the doctor, seeing that Kike hesitated.
" Speak out."
"All alone."
KIKE. 303
" Yes, you shall see her alone. That is best." The
doctor's utterance was choked as he hastened out.
Kike lay with eyes fixed on the door. It seemed
a long time after the doctor went before Nettie came
in. It was only three minutes three minutes in which
Nettie vainly strove to wipe away tears that flowed
faster than she could remove them. At last her hand
was on the latch. She gained a momentary self-controL
But when she opened the door and saw his emaciated
face, and his black eyes looking so eagerly for her, it
was too much for the poor little heart. The next
moment she was on her knees by his bed, sobbing
violently. And Kike put out his feeble hands and
drew the golden head up close to his bosom, and spoke
tenderer words than he had ever heard spoken in his
life. And then he closed his, eyes, and for a long time
nothing was said. It came about after Nettie's tears
were spent that they talked of all that they had felt ;
of the life past and of the immortal life to come.
Hours went by and none intruded upon this betrothal
for eternity. Patty had waited without, expecting
to be called to take her place again by her cousin's
bedside. But she did not like to remain in con-
versation with Morton. It could bring nothing but
pain to them both. It occurred to her that she had
not seen her patient in Higgins's Hollow since Kike
came. She started immediately, glad to escape from
the regrets excited by the presence of Morton, and
touched with remorse that she had so long neglected a
man on whose heart she thought she had been able to
make some religious impression.
CHAPTER XXXII.
PINKEY S DISCOVERY.
PINKEY was grum. He didn't like to be neglected,
if he was a highwayman. He had gotten out of
bed and drawn on his boots.
'' So you could n't come to see me because there
was a young preacher sick at the doctor's .? " he said,
when Patty entered.
" The young preacher is my cousin," said Patty,
"and he is going to die."
" Your cousin. " said Pinkey, softened a little.
"But Goodwin is there, too. I hope you didn't tell
him anything about me ? '' ,
" Not a word."
" He ought to be grateful to you for saving his
life."
" He seems to be."
" And people that are grateful are very likely to
have other feelings after awhile." There was a sig-
nificance in Pinkey's manner that Patty greatly dis-
liked.
"You should not talk in that way. Mr. Goodwin
is engaged to be married."
" Is he .? Do you mind telling me her name .? "
"To a lady named Meacham, I believe."
PINKEY'S DISCOVERY. 305
" What ? Who ? To Ann Eliza? How did it
happen that I have never heard of that? To Ann
Eliza ! Confound her ; what a witch that girl is ! I
wish I could spoil her game this time. Goodwin 's too
good for her and she sha'n't have him." Then he sat
still as if in meditation. After a moment he resumed :
" Now, Miss Lumsden, you've done one good turn for
him, you must do another. I want to send a note to
this Ann Eliza."
" I cannot take it," said Patty, trembling.
" You saved his life, and now you are unwilling to
save him from a worse evil. You ought not to refuse,"
" You ought not to ask it. The circumstances of
the case are peculiar. I will not take it."
" Will you take a note to Goodwin ? "
"Not on this business."
Pinkey was startled at the emotion she showed, and
looked at her inquiringly : " You were a schoolmate
of Morton's of Goodwin's, I mean ^and a body would
think that you might be the identical sweetheart that
sent him adrift for joining the Methodists and then
joined the Methodists herself, eh ? "
Patty said nothing, but turned away.
"By the holy MoSes," said Pinkey, in a half-
soliloquy, "if that's the case, I'll break the net of
that fisherwoman this time or drown myself a-trying."
Patty had intended to read the Bible to her patient,
but her mind was so disturbed that she thought best
to say good-morning. Pinkey roused himself from a
reverie to call her back.
"Will you answer me one question?" he asked.
306 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
" Does Goodwin want to marry this girl ? Is he happy
about it, do you think ? "
" I am sure he isn't," said Patty, reproaching her-
self in a moment that she had said so much.
Patty made some kindly remark to Mrs. Barkins as
she went out, walked briskly to the fence, halted, looked
off over the field a moment, turned round and came
back. When she re-entered Pinkey's room he had put
on his great false-whiskers and wolf-skin cap, and she
trembled at the transformation. He started, but said :
" Don't be afraid, Miss Lumsden, I am not meditating
mischief. I will not hurt you, certainly, and you must
not betray me. Now, what is it .' "
' Don't do anything wrong in this matter," said
Patty. " Don't do anything that'll lie heavy on your
soul when you come to die. I'm afraid you'll do
something wrong for ,Mr. Goodwin's sake, or mine."
" No. But if I was able to ride I'd do one thun-
derin' good thing. But I am too weak to do any-
thing, plague on it ! "
" I wish you would put these deceits in the fire and
do right," she said, indicating his disguises. " I am
disappointed to see that you are going back to your
old ways."
He made no reply, but laid off his disguises and
lay down on the bed, exhausted. And Patty departed,
grieved that all her labors were in vain, while Pinkey
only muttered to himself, "I'm too weak, confound
it!"
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE ALABASTER BOX BROKEN.
NOT until Dr. Morgan came in at noon did any
one venture to open the door of Kike's room.
He found the patient much better. But the improve-
ment could not be permanent, the sedative of mental
rest and the tonic of joy had come too late.
" Morton," said Kike, " I want Dolly to do me one
more service. Nettie will explain to you what it is."
After a talk with Nettie, Morton rode Dolly away,
leading Kike's horse with him. The doctor thought
he could guess what Morton went for, but, even in
melancholy circumstances, lovers, like children, are fond
of having secrets, and he did not try to penetrate that
which it gave Kike and Nettie pleasure to keep to
themselves. At ten o'clock that night Morton came
back without Kike's horse.
" Did you get it ? " whispered Kike, who had grown
visibly weaker.
Morton nodded.
" And you sent the message .? "
"Yes."
Kike gave Nettie a look of pleasure, and then sank
into a satisfied sleep, while Morton proceeded to relate
to Doctor Morgan and Patty that he had seen in the
308 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
moonlight a notorious highwayman. " His nickname is
Pinkey; nobody knows who he is or where he comes
from or goes to. He got a hard blow in a fight with
the police force of the camp meeting. It's a wonder
it did n't break his head. I searched for him every-
where, but he had effectually disappeared. If I had
been armed to-night I should have tried to arrest him,
for he was alone."
Patty and the doctor exchanged looks.
"Our patient, Patty."
But Patty did not say a word.
" You must have got that information through him ! "
said Morton, with surprise.
But Patty only kept still.
" I won't ask you any questions, but what if I had
killed my deliverer! Strange that he should be the
bearer of a message to me, though. I should rather
expect him to kill me than to save me."
Patty wondered that Pinkey had ventured away
while yet so weak, and found in herself the flutterings
of a hope for which she knew there was no satis-
factory ground.
When Saturday morning came, Kike was sinking.*
" Doctor Morgan," he said, " do not leave me long.
Nettie and I want to be married before I die."
^ " But the license 1 " said the doctor, affecting not to
suspect Kike's secret.
"Morton got it the other day. And I am looking
for my mother to-day. I don't want to be married
till she comes. Morton took my horse and sent for
her."
THE ALABASTER BOX BROKEN. 309
Saturday passed and Kike's mother had not arrived.
On Sunday morning he was almost past speaking.
Nettie had gone out of the room, and Kike was
apparently asleep.
"Splendid life wasted," said the doctor, sadly, to
Morton, pointing to the dying man.
"Yes, indeed. What a pity he had no care for
himself," answered Morton.
"Patty," said Kike, opening his eyes, "the Bible."
Patty got the Bible.
" Read in the twenty-sixth of Matthew, from the
seventh verse to the thirteenth, inclusive," Kike spoke
as if he were announcing a text.
Then, when Patty was about to read, he said:
"Stop. Call Nettie."
When Nettie came he nodded to Patty, and she
read all about the alabaster box of ointment, very
precious, that was broken over the head of Jesus,
and the complaint that it was wasted, with the Lord's
reply.
"You are right, my dear boy," said Doctor Morgan,
with effusion, "what is spent for love is never wasted.
It is a very precious box of ointment that you have
broken upon Christ's head, my son. The Lord will
not forget it."
When Kike's mother and Brady rode up to the
door on Sunday morning, the people had already
begun to gather in crowds, drawn by the expectation
that Morton would preach in the Hickory Ridge
church. Hearing that Kike, whose piety was famous
all the country over, was dying, they filled Doctor
310 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
Morgan's house and yard, sitting in sad, silent groups
on the fences and door-steps, and standing in the
shade of the yard trees. As the dying preacher's
mother passed through, the crowd of country people
fell back and looked reverently at her.
Kike was already far gone. He was barely able to
greet his mother and the good-hearted Brady, whose
demonstrative Irish grief knew no bounds. Then Kike
and Nettie were married, amidst the tears of all. This
sort of a wedding is more hopelessly melancholy than
a funeral. After the marriage Nettie knelt by Kike's
side, and he rallied for a moment and solemnly pro-
nounced a benediction on her. Then he lifted up
his hands, crying faintly, " O Lord ! I have kept back
nothing. Amen."
His hands dropped upon the head of Nettie. The
people had crowded into the hall and stood at the
windows. For awhile all thought him dead.
A white pigeon flew in at one of the windows and
lighted upon the bed of the dying man. The early
Western people believed in marvels, and Kike was to
them a saint. At sight of the snow-white dove pluming
itself upon his breast they all started back. Was it
a heavenly visitant .' Kike opened his eyes and gazed
upon the dove a moment. Then he looked significantly
iat Nettie, then at the people. The dove plumed itself
a moment longer, looked round on the people out of
its mute and gentle eyes, then flitted out of the win-
dow again and disappeared in the sunlight. A smile
overspread the dying, man's face, he clasped his hands
upon his bosom, and it was a full minute before any-
THE ALABASTER BOX BROKEN. 311
body discovered that the pure, heroic spirit of Heze-
kiah Lumsden had gone to its rest.
He had requested that no name should be placed
over his grave. " Let God have any glory that may
come from my labors, and let everybody but Nettie
forget me," he said. But Doctor Morgan had a slab
of the common blue limestone of the hills marble was
not to be had cut out for a headstone. The device
upon it was a dove, the only inscription : " An alabaster
box of very precious ointment."
Death is not always matter for grief. If you have
ever beheld a rich sunset from the summit of a
lofty mountain, you will remember how the world was
transfigured before you in the glory of resplendent
light, and how, long after the light had faded from
the cloud-drapery, and long after the hills had begun
to lose themselves in the abyss of darkness, there
lingered a glory in the western horizon a joyous
memory of the splendid pomp of the evening. Even
so the glory of Kike's dying made all who saw it feel
like those -vvho h.ive witnessed a sublime spectacle,
which they may never see again. The memory of
it lingered with them like the long-lingering glow-
behind the western mountains. Sorry that the suffer-
ing life had ended in peace, one could not be; and
never did stormy day find more placid sunset' than
his. Even Nettie had never felt that he belonged to
her. When he was gone she was as one whom an
angel of God had embraced. She regretted his absence,
but rejoiced in the memory of his love; and she had
not entertained any hopes that could be disappointed.
312 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
The only commemoration his name received was in
the conference minutes, where, like other such heroes,
he was curtly embalmed in the usual four lines:
" Hezekiah Lumsden was a man of God, who freely
gave up his life for his work. He was tireless in
labor, patient in suffering, bold in rebuking sin, holy
in life and conversation, and triumphant in death."
The early Methodists had no time for eulogies.
A handful of earth, a few hurried words of tribute,
and the bugle called to the battle. The man who
died was at rest, the men who staid had the more
work to do.
Note. In the striking incident of the dove lighting upon Kike's
bed, I have followed strictly the statement of eye-witnesses. E.E.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE BROTHERS.
PATTY had received, by the hand of Brady, a
letter from her father, asking- her to come home.
Do not think that Captain Lumsden wrote penitently
and asked Patty's forgiveness. Captain Lumsden never
did anything otherwise than meanly. He wrote that
he was now bedridden with rheumatism, and it seemed
hard that he should be forsaken by his oldest daughter,
who ought to be the stay of his declining years. He
did not understand how Patty could pretend to be so
religious, and yet leave him to suffer without the
comfort of her presence. The other children were
young, and the house was in hopeless confusion. If
the Methodists had not quite turntd her heart away
from her poor afflicted father, she would come at once
and help him in his troubles. He was ready to forgive
the past, and as for her religion, if she did not trouble
him with it, she could do as she pleased. He did not
think much of a religion that set a daughter against
her father, though.
Patty was too much rejoiced at the open door that
it set before her to feel the sting very keenly. There
was another pain that had grown worse with every day
she had spent with Morton. Beside her own sorrow
314 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
she felt for him. There was a strange restlessness in
his eyes, an eager and vacillating activity in what he
was doing, that indicated how fearfully the tempest
raged within. For Morton's old desperation was upon
him, and Patty was in terror for the result. About the
time of Kike's death the dove settled upon his soul
also. He had mastered himself, and the restless wild-
ness had given place to a look of constraint and
suffering that was less alarming but hardly less dis-
tressing to Patty, who had also the agony of hiding
her own agony. But the disappearance of Pinkey h*ad
awakened some hope in her. Not one jot of this
trembling hopefulness did she dare impart to Morton,
who for his part had but one consolation he would
throw away his life in the battle, as Kike had done
before him.
So eager was Patty to leave her school now and
hasten to her father, that she could not endure to stay
the weeks that were necessary to complete her term.
She had canvassed with Doctor Morgan the possibility
of etting some one to take her place, and both had
concluded that there was no one available, Miss Jane
Morgan being too much out of health. But to their '
surprise Nettie offered her services. She had not been
of much more use in the world than a humming-bird,
she said, and now it seemed to her that Kike would
be better pleased that she should make herself useful.
Thus released, Patty started home immediately, and
Morton, who could not reach the distant part of his
circuit, upon which his supply was now preaching, in
time to resume his work at once, concluded to set out
THE BROTHERS. 315
for Hissawachee also, that he might see how his parents
fared. But he concealed his purpose from Patty, who
departed in company with Brady and his wife. Morton
would not trust himself in her society longer. He
therefore rode round by a circuitous way, and, thanks
to Dolly, reached Hissawachee before them.
I may not describe the enthusiasm with which
Morton was received at home. Scarcely had he kissed
his mother and shaken hands with' his father, who was
surprised that none of his dolorous predictions had
been fulfilled, and greeted young Henry, now shooting
up into manhood, when his mother whispered to him
that his brother Lewis was alive and had come
home.
" What ! Lewis alive 1 " exclaimed Morton, " I
thought he was killed in Pittsburg ten years ago."
" That was a false report. He had been doing
badly, and he did not want to return, and so he let
us believe him dead. But now he has come back and
he is afraid you will not receive him kindly. I suppose
he thinks because you are a preacher you will be hard
on his evil ways. But you wont be too hard, will
you ? "
" 1 1 God knows I have been tod great a sinner
myself for that. Where is Lew ? I can just remember
how he used to whittle boats for me when I was a
little boy. I remember the morning he ran off, and
how after that you always wanted to move West.
Poor Lew ! Where has he gone 1 "
His mother opened the door of the little bed-room
and led out the brother.
316
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
" What ! Burchard ? " cried Morton. " What does
this mean? Are you Lewis Goodwin?"
"I am ! "
" That 's why you gave me back my horse and gun
when you found out who I was. That 's how you
The Brothkrs.
saved me that day at Brewer's Hole. And that's why
you warned me at Salt Fork and sent me that other
warning. Well, Lewis, I would be glad to see you
anyhow, but I ought to be not only glad as a brother,
but glad that I can thank you for saving my life."
THE BROTHERS. 31 Y
" But I' ve been a worse man than you think, Mort.'
" What of that ? God forgives, and I am sure that
it is not for such a sinner as I am to condemn you.
If you knew what desperate thoughts have tempted me
in the last week you would know how much I am
your brother."
Just here Brady knocked at the door and pushed
it open, with a " Howdy, Misses Goodwin 1 Howdy,
Mr. Goodwin ? and, Moirton, howdy do ? "
" This is my brother Lewis, Mr. Brady. We thought
he was dead."
" Heigh-ho ! The prodigal 's come back agin, eh ?
Mrs. Goodwin, I congratilate ye."
And then Mrs. Brady was intreduced to Lewis.
Patty, who stood behind, came forward, and Morton
said: "Miss Lumsden, my brother Lewis."
" You need n't introduce her," said Lewis. " She
knows me already. If it had n't been for her I might
have been dead, and in perdition, I suppose.
" Why, how 's that " asked Morton, bewildered.
" She nursed me in sickness, and read the parable
of the Prodigal Son, and told me that it was my
mother's favorite chapter."
" So it is," said Mrs. Goodwin ; " I 've read it
every day for years. But how did you know that,
Pattx .' "
" Why," said Lewis, " she said that one woman
knew how another woman felt. But you don't know
how good Miss Lumsden is. She did not know me as
Lewis Goodwin or Burchard, but in quite a different^
character. I suppose I 'd as . well make a clean breast
318 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
of it, Mort, at once. Then there '11 be no surprises
afterward. And if you hate me when you know it all,
I can't help it." With that he stepped into the bed-
room and came forth with long beard and wolf-skin cap.
' What ! Pinkey .? " said Morton, with horror.
" The Pinkey that you told that big preacher to
knock down, and then hunted all over the country to
find."
Seeing Morton's pained expression at this discovery
of his brother's bad character, Patty added adroitly:
" The Pinkey that saved your life, Morton."
Morton got up and stood before his brother. " Give
me your hand again, Lewis. I am so glad you came
home at last. God bless you."
Lewis sat down and rested his head in his hands.
" I have been a very wicked man, Morton, but I never
committed a murder. I am guilty of complicity. I got
tangled in the net of Micajah Harp's band. I helped
them because they had a hold on me, and I was too
weak to risk the consequences of breaking with them.
That complicity has spoiled all my life. But the
crimes they laid on Pinkey were mostly committed by
others. Pinkey was a sort of ghost at whose doors all
sins were laid."
" I must hurry home," said Patty. " I only stopped
to shake hands," and she rose to go.
" Miss Lumsden," said Lewis, " you wanted me to
destroy these lies. You shall, have them to do what
you like with. I wish you could take my sins, too."
Patty put the disguises into the fire. "Only God
can take your sins," she said.
THE BROTHER. 319
" Even he can't make me forget them," said Lewis,
with bitterness.
Patty went home in anxidty. Lewis Goodwin
seemed to have forgotten the resolution he had made
as Pinkey to save Morton from Ann Eliza.
But Patty went home bravely and let thoughts of
present duty crowd out thoughts of possible happiness.
She bore the peculiar paternal greetings of her father ;
she installed herself at once, and began, like a good
genius, to evolve order out of chaos. By the time
evening arrived the place had come to know its mistress
again.
CHAPTER XXXV.
PINKEY AND ANN ELIZA.
THAT evening, after dark, Morton and his Brother
Lewis strolled into the woods together. It was
not safe for Lewis to walk about in the day time.
The law was on one side and the vengeance of Mica-
jah Harp's band, perhaps, on the other. But in the
twilight he told Morton something which interested
the latter greatly, and which increased his gratitude
to Lewis. That you may understand what this com-
munication was, I must go back to an event that
happened the week before to the very last adventure
that Lewis Goodwin had in his character of Pinkey.
Ann Eliza Meacham had been disappointed. She
had ridden ten iriiles to Mount Tabor Church, one
of .Morton's principal appointments. No doubt Ann
Eliza persuaded herself she never had any trouble in
persuading herself that zeal for religious worship was
the motive that impelled her to ride so far to church.
But why, then, did she wish she had not come, when
instead of the fine form and wavy locks of Brother
Goodwin, she found in the pulpit only the located
brother who was supplying his place in his absence
at Kike's bedside? Why did she not go on to the
afternoon . appointment as she had intended 1 Certain
PINKEY AND ANN ELIZA. 321
it is that when Ann Eliza left that little log church
called Mount Tabor because it was built in a hollow,
perhaps she felt unaccountably depressed. She con-
sidered it a spiritual struggle, a veritable hand to
hand conflict with Satan. She told the brethren and
sisters that she must return home, she even declined
to stay to dinner. She led the horse up to a log
and sprang into the saddle, riding away toward home
as rapidly as the awkward old natural pacer would
carry her. She was vexed that" Morton should stay
away from his appointments on this part of his cir-
cuit to see anybody die. He might know that it
would be a disappointment to her. She satisfied her-
self, however, by picturing to her own imagination
the half-coldness with which she would treat Brother
Goodwin when she should meet him. She inly re-
hearsed the scene. But with most people there is a
more secret self, kept secret even from themselves.
And in her more secret- self, Ann Eliza knew that
she would not dare treat Brother Goodwin coolly.
She had a sense of insecurity in her hold upon him.
Riding thus through the great forests of beech and,
maple Ann Eliza had reached Cherry Run, only half
a mile from her aunt's house, and the old horse, scent-
ing the liberty and green grass of the pasture ahead
of him, had quickened his pace after crossing the
"run," when what should she see ahead but a man
in wolf-skin cap and long whiskers. She had heard of
Pinkey, the highwayman, and surely this must be he.
Her heart fluttered, she reined her horse, and the high-
wayman advanced.
322
THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
" I haven 't anything to give you. What do you
want?"
" I don't want anything but to persuade you to do
your duty," he said, seating himself by the side of
the trail on a stump.
An Accusing Memory.
"Let me go on," said Miss Meacham, frightened,
starting her horse.
" Not yet," said Pinkey, seizing the bridle, " I want
PINKEY AND ANN ELIZA. 323
to talk to you." And he sat down again, holding fast
to her bridle-rein.
"What is it.?" asked Ann Eliza, subdued by a sense
of helplessness.
" Do you think, Sister Meacham," he said in a
canting tone, "that you are doing just right.' Is not
there something in your life that is wrong.? With all
your praying, and singing, and shouting, you are a
wicked woman."
Ann Eliza's resentment now took fire. " Who are
you, that talk in this way.? You are a robber, and
you know it ! If you don't repent you will be lost !
Seek religion now. You will soon sin away your day
of grace, and what an awful eternity ''
Miss Meacham had fallen into this hortatory vein,
partly because it was habitual with her, and con-
sequently easier in a moment of confusion than any
other, and partly because it was her forte and she
thought that these earnest and pathetic exhortations
were her best weapons. But when she reached the
words " awful eternity," Pinkey cried out sneeringly :
" Hold up, Ann Eliza ! You don't run over -me
that way. I 'm bad enough, God knows, and I 'm
afraid I shall find my way to hell some day. But if
I do I expect to give you a civil good morning on
my arrival, or welcome you if you get there after I do.
You see I know all about you, and it 's no use for
you to glory-hallelujah me."
Ann Eliza did not think of anything appropriate
to the occasion, and so she remained silent.
" I hear you have got young Goodwin on your
324 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
hooks, now, and that you mean to marry him against
his will. Is that so ? "
" No, it isn 't. He proposed to me himself."
" O, yes ! I suppose he did. You made him ! "
" I did n't."
" I suppose not. You never did. Not even in
Pennsylvania. How about young Harlow ? Who made
him .? "
Ann Eliza changed color " Who are you "i " she
asked.
" And that fellow with dark hair, what's his name ?
The one you danced with down at Stevens's one
night."
" What do you bring up all my old sins for ? "
asked Ann Eliza, weeping. " You know I have
repented of all of them, and now that I am trying to
lead a new life, and now that God has forgiven my
sins and let me see the light of his reconciled coun-
tenance "
" Stop, Ann Eliza," broke out Pinkey. " You sha'n't
glory-hallelujah me in that style, confound you ! Maybe
God has forgiven you for driving Harlow to drink
himself into tremens and the grave, and for sending
that other fellow to the divil, and for that other, thing,
you know. You would n't like me to mention it.
You 've got a very pretty face, Ann Eliza, you know
you have. But Brother Goodwin don't love you. You
entangled him; you know you did. Has God forgiven
you for that, yet ? Don't you think you 'd better go
to the mourners' bench next time yourself, instead of
talking to the mourners as if you -were an angel .'
PINKEY AND ANN ELIZA. 325
Come, Ann Eliza, look at yourself and see if you can
sing glory-hallelujah. Hey ? "
" Let me go," plead the young woman, in terror.
" Not yet, you angelic creature. Now that I come
to think of it, piety suits your style of feature. Ann
Eliza, I want to ask you one question before we part,
to meet down below, perhaps. If you ate so pious,
why can't you be honest .? Why can't you tell Preacher
Goodwin what you left Pennsylvania for.? Why the
devil don't you let him know beforehand what sort of a
horse he 's getting when he invests in you .-' Is it pious
to cheat a man into marrying you, when you know he
would n't do it if "he knew the whole truth .' Come
now, you talk a good deal about the 'bar of God,'
what do you think will become of such a swindle as
you are, at the bar of God ? "
"You are a wicked man," cried she, "to bring up
the sins that I have put behind my back. Why
should I talk with with Brother Goodwin or anybody
about them ? "
For Ann Eliza always quieted her conscience by
reasoning that God's forgiveness had made the un-
pleasant facts of her life as though they were not. It
was very unpleasant, when , she had put down her
memory entirely upon certain points, to have it march
up to her from without, wearing a wolf-skin cap and
false whiskers, and speaking about the most disagree-
able subjects.
" Ann Eliza, I thought maybe you had a conscience,
but you don't seem to have any. You are totally
depraved, I bdieve, if you do love to sing and shout
326 THE CIRCUIT RIDER,
apd pray. Now, when a preacher cannot get a. man
to be good by talking at his conscience, he talks
damnation to him. But you think you have managed
to get round on the blind, side of God, and I don't
suppose you are afraid of hell itself. So, as conscience
and perdition won't touch you, I '11 try something else.
You are gqing to write a note to Preacher Goodwin
and let him off. I am going to carry it."
" I won't write any such a note, if you shoot me ! "
" You are n't afraid of gunpowder. You think
you 'd sail into heaven straight, by virtue of your
experiences. I am not goiijg to shoot you, but here
is a pencil and a piece of paper. You may write to
Goodwin, or I shall. If I write I will put down a
truthful history of all Ann Eliza Meacham's life, and
I shall be quite particular to tell him why you left
Pennsylvania and came out here to evangelize the
wilderness, and play the- mischief with your heavenly
blue eyes. But, if you write, I '11 keep still."
" I '11 write, then," she said, in trepidation.
" You '11 write now, honey," replied her mysterious
tormentor, leading the horse up to the stump.
Ann Eliza dismounted, sat down and took the
pencil. Her ingenious miiid immediately set itself to
devising some way by which she might satisfy the man
who was so strangely acquainted with her life, and yet
keep a sort of hold upon the young preacher. But the
man stood behind her and said, as she began, " Now
write what I say. I don't care how you open. Call
him any sweet name you please. But you 'd better
say ' Dear Sir.' "
PINKEY AND ANN ELIZA. 327
Ann Eliza wrote : " Dear Sir." .
" Now say : ' The engagement between us is broken
off. It is my fault, not yours.' "
"I won't write that."
" Yes, you will, my pious friend. Now, Ann Eliza,
you 've got a nice face ; when a man once gets in love
with you he can't quite get out. I suppose I will feel
tender toward you when we meet to part no more,
down below. I was in love with you once."
" Who are you .? "
" O, that don't matter! I was going to- say that if
I had n't ^een in love with your blue eyes once I
would n't have taken the trouble to come forty miles
to get you to write this letter. I was only a mile
away from Brother Goodwin, as you call him, when 1
heard that you had victimized him. I could have sent
him a note. I came over here to save you from the
ruin you deserve. I would have told him more than
the people in Pennsylvania ever knew. Come, my dear,
scribble away as I say, or I will tell him and every-
body else what will take the music out of your love-
feast speeches in all this country."
With a tremulous hand Ann Eliza wrote, reflecting
that she could send another note after this and tell
Brother Goodwin that a highwayman who entertained
an insane love for her had met her in a lonely spot
and extorted this from her. She handed the note to
Pinkey.
" Now, Ann Eliza, you 'd better ask God to forgive
this sin, too. You may pray and shout till you die.
I '11 never say anything unless you open communica-
328 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
tion with preacher Goodwin again. Do that, and I '11
blow you sky-high."
" You are cruel, and wicked, and mean, and "
" Come, Ann Eliza, you used to call me sweeter
names than that, and you don*t look half so fascinat-
ing when you 're mad as when you are talking heavenly.
Good by, Miss Meacham." And with that Pinkey went
into a thicket and brought forth his own horse and
rode away, not on the road but through the woods.
If Ann Eliza could have guessed which one of her
many lovers this might be she would have set about
forming some plan for circumventing him. But the
mystery was too much for her. She sincerely loved
Morton, and the bitter cup she had given to others
had now come back to her own lips. And with it
came a little humility. She could not again forget
her early sins so totally. She looked to see them start
out of the bushes by the wayside at her.
After this recital it is not necessary that I should
tell you what Lewis Goodwin told his brother that
night as they strolled in the woods.
At midnight Lewis left home, where he could not
stay longer with safety. The war with Great Britain
had broken out and he joined the army at Chillicothe
under his own name, which was his best disguise. He
was wounded at Lundy's Lane, and wrote home that
he was trying to wipe the stain off his name. He
afterward moved West and led an honest life, but the
memory of his wild youth never ceased to give him
pain. Indeed nothing is so dangerous to a reformed
sinner as forgetfulness.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
GETTING THE ANSWER.
WHEN Patty went down to strain the milk on the
morning after her return, the hope of some
deliverance through Lewis Goodwin had well-nigh died
out. If he had had anything to. communicate, Morton
would not have delayed so long to come to see her.
But, standing there as of old, in the moss-covered
spring-house, she was, in spite of herself, dreaming
dreams of Morton, and wondering whether she could
have misunderstood the hint that Lewis Goodwin,
while he was yet Pinkey, had dropped. By the time
the first crock was filled with milk and adjusted to its
place in the cold current, she had recalled that
morirthg of nearly three years before, when she had
resolved to forsake father and mother and cleave to
Morton ; by the time the second crock had been neatly
covered with its clean block she thought she could
almost hear him, as she had heard him singing on
that morning :
" Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear,
Thou 'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
Nocht of ill may come thee near,
My bonnie dearie."
Both she and Morton had long since, in accordance
330
THE CIRCUIT RIDBH.
with the Book of Discipline, given up "singing those
songs that do not tend to the glory of God," but she
felt a longing to hear Morton's voice again, assuring
her of his strong pro-
tection, as it had on
that morning three
years ago Meanwhile,
she had filled all the
v\ \
At the Spring-House again.
crocks, and now turned to pass out of the low door'
when she saw, standing there as he had stood on that
other morning, Morton Goodwin. He was more manly,
GETTING THE ANSWER. 331
mote self-contained, than then. Years of discipline
had ripened them both. He stepped back and let her
emerge into the light; he handed her that note which
Pinkey had dictated to Ann Eliza, and which Patty
read :
" Rev. Morton Goodwin :
" Dear Sir The engagement between us is broken off. It is
my fault and not yours.
"Ann E. Meacham."
" It must have cost her a great deal," said Patty,
in pity. Morton loved her better for her first unselfish
thought.
He told her frankly the history of the engagement;
and then he and Patty sat and talked in a happiness
so great that it made them quiet, until some one
came to call her, when Morton walked up to the
house to renew his acquaintance with the invalid and
mollified Captain Lujnsden.
" Faix, Moirton," said Brady, afterward, when he
came to understand how matters stood, " you 've got
the answer in the book. It 's quare enough. Now,
' one and one is two ' is aisy enough, but ' one and
one is one ' makes the hardest sum iver given to any-
body. You 've got it, and I 'm glad of it. May ye
niver conjugate the varb ' to love ' anyways excipt
prisent tinse, indicative mood, first parson, plural num-
ber, 'we love.' I don't keer ef ye add the futur'
tinse, and say, 'we will love,' nor ef ye put in the
parfect and say, ,'we have loved,' but may ye always
stick fast to first parson, plural number, prisint tinse,
indicative mood, active v'ice ! "
Morton returned to Jenkinsville circuit in some
332 THE CIRCUIT RIDER.
trepidation. He feared that the old brethren would
blame him more than ever. But this time he found
himself the object of much sympathy. Ann Eliza had
forestalled all gossip by renewing her engagement
with the very willing Bob Holston, who chuckled a
great deal to think how he had " cut out " the
preacher, after all. And when Brother Magruder came
to understand that he had not understood Morton's
case at all, and to understand that he never should be
able to understand it, he thought to atone for any
mistake he might have made by advising the bishop
to send Brother Goodwin to the circuit that included
Hissawachee. And Morton liked the appointment
better than Magruder had expected. Instead of living
with his mother, as became a dutiful son, he soon
installed himself for the year at the house of Captain
Lumsden, in the double capacity of general supervisor
of the moribund man's affairs and son-in-law.
There rise before me, as I write these last lines,
visions of circuits and stations of which Morton was
afterward the preacher-in-charge, and of districts of
which he came to be presiding elder. Are not all of
these written in the Book of the Minutes of the Con-
ferences .' But the silent and unobtrusive heroism of
Patty and her brave and life-long sacrifices are recorded
nowhere but in the Book of God's Remembrance.