One of the Wonders of the Age;
or,
The Life and Times
of Rev. Johnson Olive,
Wake County, North Carolina:
Electronic Edition.

Olive, Johnson, b. 1816

Funding from the Library of Congress/Ameritech National Digital Library Competition
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University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,
1998.
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Call number CB 048o (North Carolina Collection, UNC-CH)

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Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

LC Subject Headings:
• Olive, Johnson, 1816-1885.
• Baptist State Convention of North Carolina -- Clergy -- Biography.
• Clergy -- North Carolina -- Biography.
• North Carolina -- Religion -- 19th century.
• Oliff family.

• 1998-01-02
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One of the Wonders of the Age;
OR
THE LIFE AND TIMES
OF
REV. JOHNSON OLIVE,

WAKE COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA,

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF, AT THE SOLICITATION OF FRIENDS, AND FOR
THE BENEFIT OF ALL WHO READ IT.

- WITH SUPPLEMENT -
BY HIS SON, H.C. OLIVE

RALEIGH:
EDWARDS, BROUGHTON & CO., POWER PRINTERS AND BINDERS,
1886.

PREFACE.

        SOON after father's recovery from the deep affliction of soul through which he passed, many of his friends and acquaintances were anxious to hear his account of these sore trials.

        The movings of his mind were so clearly marked through this period that he found no difficulty in retracing his steps even to the minutest events.

        Regarding this affliction as a providence of God, he ever spoke of this period with deep interest and cheerfulness; feeling that that whereunto it had been sent had been accomplished. To make his own life and experience too prominent in his ministry he felt would be wrong. It was right that he should draw from the lessons he had learned, yet; his duty was to preach Christ and not himself Constant enquiry after incidents of his life, especially the five years of complete silence from the ministry, wherein he now felt that God in His mercy had led him, and the frequent request that he should leave a record of these mysterious dealings of the Lord, as he esteemed them to be, brought him to the consideration of writing his own life. He

submitted his purpose to a number of friends and brethren, all of whom encouraged him in his intended undertaking.

        Accordingly, in 1866, he began the writings which have led to the volume you now hold in your hands. It was his purpose to complete the work and have it published during the few years to follow. As he approached the period of his then present existence, where his work was to end, he made some investigations as to the cost of- publication. The cost was at this time so great, and financial depression among his friends and acquaintances so wide spread, that his limited means would not justify the publication. He expressed the desire, however, if not done before, that after his decease his family should have the work completed and published, not that he desired especially for his memory to be perpetuated in the world by books and records, but feeling that the struggles he made in youth to fit himself for the great duties of life might be a stimulant to others of like surroundings. That his religious impressions and his actions towards them might be a guide to some soul when his voice should be forever silenced. That his ministerial life from his first impressions to exercise in public to its close might give some light to others who may follow. And that the fiery trials and deep afflictions which came over his soul, staid only by God's curbing hand, might

ever stand out as a monument of his love and tender mercy towards those who love and fear him. These were the hopes that led to the undertaking. That part of the work written by father goes to the press in his own style and language. This will be readily recognized by all who knew him, and comprises about three-fourths of the work.

        We ask that the reader will not censure us for the chapter on the family history, as the design is to take this occasion to preserve the substantial facts we have gathered of the family from which the subject of this work sprang.

        The task of completing this biography has been assigned to myself, believing that my intimate acquaintance with his life from the time he ceased to write to the day of -his death gives advantages both necessary and desirable to the accomplishment of this work. In undertaking this I desire to state what I know, and what I believe from the best authority to have been true. At the time father returned to the ministry I had reached that age when the parent centers much interest in the child. Being the oldest then living, the social relation existing between father and myself was very intimate. He talked freely with me upon many subjects; much of what I write was drawn from these interviews. It is hoped that this little volume, though not sufficient to withstand harsh criticism, may

contribute something to the great cause in which father spent his life; that it may tend to inspire all who read it to purer and holier lives and that not one soul who peruses it may ever be lost. And that it may especially prove a refreshing shower of grace, through the Holy Spirit, to the exhortations and warnings he so faithfully delivered while here in the flesh to all who heard them, and that the Holy Spirit may ever guide the heart of the reader as he peruses its pages.

H.C. OLIVE.

             APEX, N.C., August 1st, 1886.

THE OLIVE FAMILY.

PARENTAL ANCESTORS OF JOHNSON OLIVE.

        The limited knowledge of ancestors, possessed by very many persons with whom we have met, has led the writer to treasure up from youth some leading facts connected with the Olive family in America.

        It was not expected that any great advantage would accrue to any one from this undertaking. Indeed, it was not pursued as a matter of profit and reward, but as a subject of information and satisfaction.

        When a mere child I often visited the home of my grandma Olive, and in early life I was deeply impressed with the names of many old fields and sites where houses had formerly stood, and sometimes small fields then in cultivation about these old settlements, all showing that several generations of this family had lived and died in this locality. Numerous were the enquiries put to my grandma and my uncle Calvin Olive, about the persons who had formerly lived at these places. My anxiety thus early awakened was not abated by time. As I grew older I was anxious to learn more about my family. I sought occasion to enquire of some of the oldest persons living in the community, and gather up such information as they possessed. Some of them were able to tell me

the name of the first Olive who came to the United States, and many other facts of family history interesting to me, most of which had been substantiated by other witnesses. In substance they all agree that there is only one family of Olives in America; that this family is one of English descent; that James Olive was the first of this family to cross the Atlantic and plant the Olive branch in the United States; that he was a bound boy in England, and must have been born about 1720 or 1725. In early youth he became tired of the restraints placed upon him, and hearing of the new world the genial clime and the great liberty enjoyed by its citizens he resolved to come to the United States. He accordingly made terms with the captain of a vessel soon to sail for America and in a short time he was on board working his way to his intended new home.

        On reaching the United States he made his way to what is now Wake County, N.C., landing here about 1740. He took up a portion of land and made a temporary settlement near where the city of Raleigh has since been located. The records of the county show that soon after its organization the names of some of his descendants appear as land owners on the waters of Crabtree creek. I cannot say however that these lands are part of those formerly owned by James Olive. His direct location is thought to have included a part of the present site of the city of Raleigh. After remaining here for awhile, he moved to the western part of the county and made a permanent settlement near the line dividing Wake and Chatham counties,

some two miles west of the present village of New Hill. Here he married and devoted his time to his chosen occupation for life, that of farming and stock raising. He is described as a stout, strong, healthy man, of good height. Possessed of a strong will, much industry and thrift, he was soon in possession of a large body of lands in that section of the county of Wake. He was no less blessed in his marriage relations. Seven sons and one or more daughters were added to his family. These all grew up to manhood and womanhood and lived to a good old age. For robust health and physical manhood this family of boys is seldom surpassed - stout healthy and active. They were all possessed of fair mental capacity. Some of them became distinguished for their intellectual attainments. They only had such education as the times in which they lived offered to country boys. They did not seek fame or distinction, and living at a time when the printing press was costly and but little in use no printed record is left of any of them, yet we are led to conclude from the impress left upon those who knew them that they were men whose characters were strongly marked, and that they were among the foremost men of their day with the early settlers and planters of their section. These seven sons were living in the early part of the nineteenth century Some persons now living have seen most of them; others tell many things about them that have been handed down to them by their parents. At the outbreak of the American revolution some of these boys were of age, and took part with the United States in

her battles for independence. Toward the close of the eighteenth century James Olive, the father, died at his family residence, and was buried upon the premises, where it is thought his grave can now be distinguished. His wife survived him many years, and so distinguished herself by her kindness to all with whom she met, (and especially the poor, the sick, the needy and afflicted) that the name of "Granny Olive" long lived in the hearts of her neighbors. She must have lived to near a hundred years of age. The names of the seven sons were William, Abel, Jesse, James, Anthony, John and Southard. For some time they all lived in their native county, and the adjoining county of Chatham.

        After a time Abel and Anthony moved westward, and from these, with a few other members of the family who have since gone westward, has the Olive family spread through Tennessee, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, Texas, and other Western and South ern States. Abel was a professed minister of the gospel of much influence and ability. According to a custom of his day he was on several occasions drawn into public discussions with other divines upon religious subjects. In some of these discussions he greatly distinguished himself.

        The five other sons made permanent settlements in their adopted sections. They all devoted their time principally to farming and raising stock, which latter business was quite profitable in those days, as abundant range could be had. They all attained to a fair degree of success in their struggles for existence. All

were blessed with a large family of children, usually numbering from six to ten. Indeed, a few statistics would show that the family has been wonderfully fruitful since their settlement on this side of the Atlantic.

        With only James Olive to begin with in 1740, at the close of that, the eighteenth century, when the family had only been in America sixty years, they numbered near one hundred souls. They have now been in the United States about one hundred and forty-five years. They have scattered throughout many States of the Union mostly to the South and West.

        It is reasonable to estimate that no less than ten thousand souls have been born on this continent with the blood of James Olive flowing in their veins. This seems incredible in so short a time, beginning with James Olive in 1740, and in 1886 - one hundred and forty-six years later - counting ten thousand offspring. We estimate that no less than one thousand and five hundred of his posterity are now living in the United States. So numerous are the different branches of this family springing from William, Abel, Anthony, James, Jesse, John and Southard that time and space will not permit us to pursue them all. We will therefore confine ourselves to the direct ancestors of the subject of this work, with such general statements at the close of this chapter as we may deem appropriate. We have before stated that the name of one of the seven sons of James Olive, Sr., was John. Soon after the close of the American revolution, in which he was engaged, he married a Miss Partridge and settled in Wake

county, near the old homestead of his father. He was a farmer by occupation, and twice married. In all he had twelve children, Burrell and Rachel by his first wife, and John, Michael, Berry, Green, Gray, Bennett, Brinkley, Sallie, Frankie and Nancy by his second, whose maden name was Womble. During the early part of the nineteenth century Burrell Olive, the eldest son of John, married a Miss Polly Johnson, daughter of John Johnson, who had recently moved from Northampton county, N.C. and settled in Chatham county only a short distance from the settlement of the Olive family in Wake county.

        Burrell Olive and wife settled upon a farm within a short distance of their parents, in the county of Chatham, about one mile from the Wake line. Their second child was a son to whom they gave the name Johnson, in honor of his mother's maiden name. Burrell Olive was a modest, unassuming man. He acquired a fair education for one of his day; specimens of his writing now in existence show him to have been a man of good intellect. He did not aspire to fame, but became a successful farmer and useful and substantial citizen. His height was about five feet ten inches, weight one hundred and forty-five pounds.

        His wife, the mother of Johnson Olive, was a quiet, self possessed lady, industrious, sprightly and active, free from craft or cunning, yet moved about much without being observed. She was of small size, usually weighing from one hundred and ten to one hundred and fifteen pounds; possessed of much native intellect.

        Johnson Olive inherited much of the characteristics

of his maternal ancestors. His head his nose, his cheeks resembled his paternal ancestors, and in other particulars he was like them.

        The Johnsons were a jovial, active people, full of life and fun, great talkers, and very much enjoyed a hearty laugh. Most of them were passionately fond of children, and often kept the child in a strait between teasing and caressing. They were quick-tempered, not ill, rather friendly but violent when aroused. As a family they were the greatest lovers of fish I ever saw. In this particular father was all Johnson.

        We have sometimes attributed the love of the finny tribe in this family to the fact that they had emigrated from a county bordering upon splendid fisheries, and that this appetite had become to some extent constitutional.

        The Olives have usually been an honest industrious people; farming has been their favorite pursuit; very few of this large family have ever sought worldly honors. One definition of the name is "emblem of peace." They have usually been advocates of peace and order, and are ever quick to resent oppression and wrong.

        From their first settlement in this country they have manifested a great fancy for stock raising. The horse, cow, sheep and hog have received a good share of attention from many of .them. They seldom fail to store away a good share of home-made pork.

        While they are a modest and unassuming people, they always inherit a good degree of will power, and

when once settled in their opinions, are not easily moved. Liberty and freedom are favored terms with them.

        This family has not been without its Absaloms. The wayward ones, however, have not been inclined to malicious practices, but rather to mischief and merriment.

        Notwithstanding the great number born in this country, the penalties of the criminal laws have not been heard against any of them. Very few, only, have attained to great wealth. They have been among the common, well-to-do citizens of this country. All have not been professed christians, yet the Church of God on earth has had many warm advocates in this family.

        Becoming satisfied years ago that the tradition handed down by our parents and family acquaintances as to our family history was correct, we have been lead recently to make more thorough inquiry into some of the facts.

        Some six years ago we learned from a man who claimed to be a sailor that he had seen the name of Olive in London, England, whence tradition says we came. He stated he saw this name upon a signboard over a store door, in one of the streets of London, and that he had never seen the name elsewhere. This strengthened the account we already had. Accordingly, in the early part of this year, we addressed a letter to the editor of the Spectator, London, asking for the address of any persons in his country by the name of Olive. In about three weeks his answer returned, giving the names of Henry Olive, John Bone Olive,

and John Joseph Olive, all living in London. This led to a correspondence between myself and some of the parties. I here give their reply:

GRAFTON HOUSE,
GRAFTON STREET, FITZROY SQUARE,
LONDON, ENGLAND, May, 1886.

        DEAR SIR: - We received both your letters. The first was directed to my son, who will get what information he can from persons whom he knows bearing our name. He has been too busy as yet. Being the only one of my family alive, I feel tenderly towards my relatives.

        The earliest knowledge I have of my family is that my grandmother, a widow, Rose Olive, came to the village of Castle Hedingham, Essex, a widow, with two boys. The eldest, my uncle, John Thomas, six years of age, the other, my father, Joseph Olive. I think the latter must have been about eight years old. This occurrence took place about the date 1800. Both of these boys and their mother are now dead. My uncle, John Thomas, was band-master of Life Guards and Seventh Hussars, also Queen's Boys. Afterwards a publican in Ipswick, Suffolk. He left one son, now seventy-five, whom I have seen. He knows but little of the family. He is a retired publican of Peckham Rye, Surry. When a boy he remembers riding with his father and mine to Waltham Cross, Essex, where lived one James Olive, a carpenter - I suppose a relative, but I had never heard of him before. I think my grandmother's maiden name was Atherton. She died, eighty-three, in the village where she had long resided. I could hear nothing beyond that. She went there a widow and a stranger. She was good looking - fair and tall. When I was a boy the directory only showed a Joseph Olive, a solicitor of Lincoln's Inn, who was my father. Now there are only about six. As names help, I may tell you that my cousin, whom I stated was seventy-five years of age, is named

Daniel David Olive. He has a son, Daniel Olive, at 618 Ottowa street, Leavenworth, Kansas, United States. He went over about twenty years ago. He has a family. So you see some of our immediate family are in the United States. A brother of Daniel Olive was twenty years in the American mercantile service, under the name of Morton. His family are mostly travelers. Another brother of his has been to India as a soldier, and is now a publican here. Others of this family - Charles and Alice - are now at or near Queensland. I had one sister, Armelia, and two brothers, James and William, all of whom died young. I am now sixty-five years of age, and by trade a wood turner. The house to which you direct is mine. Being a large double house there are two rooms, one for my own trade, the other a stationery, book and music sellers, managed by two of my daughters.

        My son, John Joseph Olive, has a similar business to the latter in London, in Kentish Town Road. I have one son and three daughters; son the eldest thirty-eight years; youngest daughter thirty. I weigh eleven stone, my son the same. My youngest daughter is tall, the other two of medium height. Our family are well built and rather fair. I belong to the church of England, where myself and family attend every Sunday. I treat myself to a nonconformist place of worship about four times a year. All are the same to me if they are traveling heavenward. It has been a puzzle to us to know whether it is a lady or gentleman writing to us. My second daughter's name is Clara Hannah, the same initials as yours, but reversed in order. She is a certificated head teacher of a large London board school. With kind regards and well wishes to yourself and all the Olives who support the name so honorably, believe me to be yours truly,

JOHN BONE OLIVE.

My daughter Clara sends you her photo. with mine, hoping to have a return of yours and others of the family.

Yours truly,
J. B. OLIVE.

        This is the first and only account we know anything of from the family in England since the days of James Olive, Sr. We had never heard anything of their circumstances or numbers. To us it is conclusive that this family and the American family are one. The average of human life being put at thirty-three years, it is about four and a half generations back to the point of separation. This appears to be the only family of this name, of which the parties have any account in England. They are one in that country, and the present family were there during the eighteenth century, and we may reasonably say were there at the time of the departure of James Olive, our great ancestor in the United States. The family names kept up in both countries would be another indication pointing to the identity of the two families, James, John, William, Joseph, Daniel and David have all been favorite names with the American family. Then we may justly conclude that our family tradition as to its history, in the main has been true. Where they first received the name Olive, and under what circumstances, I have no means of knowing. Let us hope they received this title during the early political and social commotions of England by their gentle but firm course and strong advocacy of peace and order. Be this as it may, let us seek to follow Him who come to bring peace and good will on earth; and ever be found among the wise, the peaceful, the prudent of this earth, and after death to form one common family in a land where peace shall ever abide.

H.C. OLIVE.

THE LIFE AND TIMES
OF
REV. JOHNSON OLIVE.

CHAPTER I.

        I was born and raised in the county of Chatham, State of North Carolina. My parents were poor, but honest and industrious. They had eight children, four sons and four daughters. I was next to the oldest child; my birth took place June the 7th, A.D. 1816. My father had a small farm on which he labored, to gain a living for himself and family. I, being the first son, was taught to assist my father in cultivating his farm at a very early age, in the best manner that I was able. I had several uncles, brothers to my parents, who lived near by, and by them I was petted, and made to believe I was as smart at any boy of my age. I would do any thing that was in my power if they requested it. I always felt pleasant and safe when in their presence. My attachment towards them became as strong as life.

                        "I love them all with a free good will,
                        And upon my honor I love them still."

        At five or six years of age my parents started me to school. The custom of the neighborhood at that time was to have a school three months in the fall of each year, spelling reading, writing, and the first or primary principles of arithmetic were the sciences taught. I soon became attached to the school. I loved my teacher, and he taught me to endeavor to excel the other boys of my age. This made me feel a little vain but I generally succeeded in standing at the head of my class. At the age of eight or ten years I was looked upon by those who knew me best as being very smart, and exhibiting some signs of more than ordinary intellect. However this might have been, I am sure they acted very imprudently in speaking of it as they did in my presence. It did me no good then and I have sometimes felt that it has injured me since.

        When about twelve years of age my health failed, not by any violent disease but I lingered into a feeble and sickly condition; my energy and courage became considerably abated. My keen and penetrating eyes, of which my friends and relatives had so often with admiration spoken in my hearing, now became dull and languid. My cheeks were pale and swarthy, and my voice was no longer cheerful as it had formerly been. I continued in this debilitated state of health for several years, never confined, but always delicate and feeble. I could generally follow the plough and assist in cultivating the farm and in the fall season go to school, but all the time regretting that I could not feel and appear like other boys who were in the

enjoyment of good health. Notwithstanding the feeble and dormant state of my constitution there was a vein of native humor flowing from my heart and revealing itself in my life and conversation sufficient to attract attention and make my company agreeable to other boys. It was customary for the boys in the neighborhood where I lived to meet together on the Sabbath and amuse themselves in playing at ball and base, and some other games of youthful sport, and after a while they would spend a portion of that holy day in hunting game with their dogs; none of us were allowed to carry a gun. I became very much attached to this sport and would join them as often as I could; being quite small and light, and always fond of climbing trees I had become quite expert in that business so that I was selected by general consent to climb trees after squirrels while the other boys would stand around with dogs and sticks to secure the game whenever he should spring from the tree; in this way we often succeeded in taking those nimble animals. I have often regretted that I and the boys of the neighborhood were suffered to follow this dangerous sport, and that on the Sabbath day thus making it sinful as well as dangerous; but I might remark here, that religion at that period was at a very low ebb in the section of country where I was born. There were but few heads of families who were members of the church, and very few young persons who made any pretensions to religion. There was but little open profanity among the people of that neighborhood, and as a general thing they were an honest, industrious, and moral

community. The nearest church was some four or five miles distant; my parents as well as many others generally attended preaching once a month, and in justice to our parents, I might say they did not approve of the course which their children pursued in the sports above named, but being indulgent they did not positively forbid it. Thus were spent several years of my youthful life, my health continuing to be feeble, and my growth scarcely perceptible. My two oldest sisters were growing up to maturity, and I remaining as feeble and dwarfish in appearance as ever. My sisters were anxious to visit and be in company with young people, and especially to go to preaching, and they wished me to go with them. I had no inclination to go with them to preaching, for it did not suit my taste. I would rather spend the Sabbath with my companions in the neighborhood.

        When I was about fifteen years of age I was prevailed on by my mother and sisters to go with my sisters to a camp-meeting, and as some of our relations were to tent on the camp ground we were to stay several days if we wished to do so; and as an inducement for me to go my mother got me a new suit of clothes, and my father bought me a new fur hat. This pleased me very much, and I remember after having dressed myself, that I thought all would do very well except my pale face and swarthy complexion. This I could not help but thought it spoiled my looks.

        I have no distinct recollection that I had ever felt conviction for sin up to this time. I had consented to go to the camp meeting to gratify my sisters and

parents, and if I had any other motive in view I think it was to see and hear what would be going on. I had no idea of doing any mischief or of interfering with the meeting in any way, but if any thought of seeking religion came into my mind I have no recollection.

        We went to the meeting, and on our arriving there, we heard the noise that is generally heard at such meetings, especially when the work of the Lord seems to be prospering. Some were singing, some were mourning, and others praying. I was anxious to draw nigh in order that I might see what was going on in that place which they called the altar. It consisted of poles fastened to trees in the grove, or on posts set up for the purpose, the whole forming a square, or an oblong square with seats arranged conveniently for the mourners and the leading and active members of the church, so that the penitents might receive useful instruction on the subject of religion, and singing and prayer be made to God especially for them. At one end of the altar was the stand or platform, to be occupied by the preachers. At the close of a sermon an invitation was given for all who desired religion, and were willing to manifest the same, to come forward and kneel or take their seats in the altar. On this occasion a goodly number came forward of both sexes. Some young persons, some middle aged and some old. I was standing near the altar, I think, with my hand resting on the railing. An aged man, whom I knew to be a preacher, came down from the stand into the altar and commenced giving instruction to the

mourners. His words were well chosen, his voice clear, and his manner indicated great earnestness and desire for the salvation of souls. He encouraged the mourners to persevere, holding up to them the invitations and promises of the scriptures. After having gone through this part of his labor, he raised his head and looked out upon the bystanders and outsiders, and in the most pathetic and affectionate language I ever heard he exhorted them to seek religion. He held up a crucified Redeemer as able and willing to save to the uttermost all who would come to God by Him. He dwelt upon the danger and misery of sin, upon the advantages and peace of religion. He instanced his own experience, saying "religion has been my support amidst all the storms and tempests of life." He spoke of having served in the revolution of 1776, and of the troubles and trials of that age, and of the support which he had always found in his ever present Friend.

        While he was thus exhorting the bystanders and outsiders I thought he fixed his eyes on me, at least my eyes met his, and such a look I had never seen before; his eyes spoke to my mind with more force than his words did to my understanding. I felt that I was in the presence of a good and pious man of God. Indeed it appeared to me as if his heart and lips had been touched with hallowed fire. I felt as I had never felt before. I believed what the man of God had said. I felt the need of religion and thought I would have given any thing that was in my power to have changed my condition for that of the good old man. I soon

found myself suffused with tears, and my heart felt as if it would burst, but I was ashamed to be seen crying and did not wish that any person should understand my condition. I wiped my eyes and turned away from a scene which has never been erased from my mind. I walked several hundred yards from the camp ground in serious and solitary meditation. I came to the conclusion that what I had felt was not conviction for sin but only youthful excitement, and my tears were only childish sympathy, for I was at that time of the opinion if a person was truly convicted for sin he would be prostrated and helpless, and as I had not been deprived of the use of my physical powers, therefore I was not convicted, and as unreasonable and superstitious as this may appear, there are now a great many people of the same opinion. I would here warn all young people to guard against that delusion of Satan and never quench or grieve the Spirit in conviction. If you feel that you are a condemned sinner in the sight of God, that religion is necessary in order that you may be prepared to die and meet your Judge in peace. I would advise you by all means not to delay your return to God. Wait not another hour for more conviction, for Jesus stands ready to save you, full of pity, love and power.

        I will now tell you how I acted, and the bitter consequences of the same.

        I hearkened to the voice of the tempter, who said, time enough yet, wait till you are older. I hardened my heart and braced myself up as well as I could and started back to the encampment, anxious to see and

hear what was going on there, but having no desire to become affected myself or to take any interest in the meeting further than an outside observer. When I drew near the sacred altar of prayer and praise and heard distinctly the different voices and sounds that are usual at such times and places, some mourning, some rejoicing, some praying, and others singing or exhorting, it appeared to me that the place was hallowed ground, and that some mysterious power filled the atmosphere like an enchantment around that hallowed place. I felt the sacred influences so forcibly upon my mind that my heart became affected so that I could not refrain from shedding tears; and I concluded that rather than be detected by my fellow beings in this thing, I would remain at a distance from the altar, though I was anxious to see what was going on there. So I spent the greater portion of the time in which I remained on the camp ground in the outskirts of the encampment, with many thoughts revolving through my mind. I made several efforts to go near the altar to see who were there and what was going on, but in every instance as I drew near my heart would become more affected and I turned back. All this time my mind was in darkness on all religious subjects. I thought true conviction consisted in being prostrated by some irresistible power, so that a person under true conviction for sin would, at least in the commencement of his conviction, be stricken down like Saul of Tarsus, and as I had experienced nothing of that nature of course I was only under the influence of some sympathetic feeling or some animal

excitement. I therefore concluded that I would think as little about the subject as possible till I could leave the meeting and return home, at which time I promised myself, or rather my mind promised God, that I would take into consideration the all-important subject of religion, and if I should become convinced that it was the Spirit of God that was operating upon my mind, and that those impressions were of divine origin, and I away from all outside influences, I would then seek religion and call upon the Lord with all my heart. After I had made this vow my feelings became more calm, but I did not venture to go near the sacred altar, for fear that my feelings might return as they had done before.

        I will here offer a few reflections by way of advice, before I tell how I acted in reference to this matter. On reflection I have long since been convinced that the Spirit of God called at that time to convince me of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment to come. In plain terms, I was then convicted, felt that I was a condemned sinner, unfit to live or die in peace, believed it to be my duty to seek God, to accept of the terms of reconciliation, to repent of my sins and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, but how to do this was a great mystery to me, even though I had been willing to humble myself before God and men. I was filled with a desire of doing something, but knew not as yet either the end or beginning. I have since seen that I was then not far from the kingdom of God, and there appears to have been but one step between me and religion, but the affections of my heart cleaved to the world,

and procrastination plead for a more convenient season. I would recommend all persons, and more especially the young, to yield to the first impressions of the Spirit of God on the heart, and never to quench its sacred influences or grieve it from your breast. If you do it may cost you many bitter tears of repentance, many deep regrets and peradventure may land your soul in hell.

CHAPTER II.

        I will now tell you the course I pursued. I returned home with my vows upon me; they were indelibly impressed on my mind; I could not blot them out. I must consider the subject of religion while following my plow or hoe, which was my usual avocation; the subject would come up fresh in my mind; I would take it up as well as I knew how; I would consider it and reconsider it, think of its advantages and disadvantages, and sometimes I felt that I would rather be a christian than any other man. I sometimes became so much affected while meditating on the subject that I would suddenly leave my horse and plow at the end of a row go to the woods and try to pray, though it generally turned out that I had great difficulty in finding a suitable place to make the attempt. On those occasions I was easily frightened or excited, the breaking of a stick under my feet, or the sudden flight of a bird, would often frustrate me in my purpose or

design. Sometimes, however, I did fall upon my knees and try to pray, but never as I recollect to my own liking or satisfaction, for indeed I felt myself to be a poor, ignorant sinner, though it would give me some momentary relief to think that I was trying to fulfill my vows. My mind was exercised in this way more or less for several months, but I used a great deal of caution about it for fear that I should be detected by some of my fellow beings. I felt that I must keep this a profound secret from all persons, and my anxiety on this subject could not have been greater if I had stolen some valuable jewel.

        At this early age of my life I disapproved of all outside appearances and more especially in religious matters. I had known some to set out to seek religion and become weary and turn back to the world; others I had known who had made great pretensions in religion turn out badly. I thought that if I should fail in this thing I would rather it should never be known. But at that time I was unconsciously acting out the same principle, for I often concealed an aching heart by a smiling face, and a troubled mind by a cheerful laugh. But I had my scripture passages for secret prayer and for alms giving, "when ye pray enter thy closet" &c., and "let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth." Thus I endeavored to conceal from man what was going on in my mind and tried to justify my course in my own estimation by scripture testimony, not being very particular in regard to its true interpretation. I could not have been more

careful in trying to keep it a profound secret if it had been some valuable jewel that I had stolen.

        Here I would recommend all, and especially the young when under the influences of the Spirit of God, to act or speak out what the Holy Spirit works or teaches within, and never to suffer shame or the fear of man to deter them from so doing. By pursuing this course you will baffle many of the temptations of the enemy and be the better prepared to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God working in you to will and to do of His own good pleasure."

        Those convictions followed me up more or less for months and years. Sometimes my impressions would become almost overwhelming, particularly while hearing the word preached, or soon after, when meditating upon what I had heard. At those times I would seek an opportunity of going to some secret place to fulfil my vows.

        About this period of my life, being about 17 or 18 years of age, I became acquainted with a number of young people who were not immediately connected with my neighborhood, and in this way I extended the circle of my acquaintance in different parts of the surrounding country. The circumstances that seems to have given rise to this extension of my acquaintance were these: I had two sisters, who were about grown, and were fond of going to meeting whenever they could get an opportunity. I, being their oldest brother, must as a matter of course, go with them to render them assistance if needful and to take care of

them the best I could. The young people of different neighborhoods became acquainted with us and we were invited to their homes; we went, and as we were all fond of young people's company, and to be courteous, we would invite to our father's house. In this way visits became reciprocal and common, and intimacies were engendered and friendships formed.

        On reflecting upon this period of my life I remember many incidents with pleasure and some with pain. The extension of my acquaintance was calculated to benefit me in some respects and to injure me in others. I was thus drawn into new scenes of pleasure or mirth, and new temptations were crowding upon me. It was customary and fashionable at this period of my life for the young people of the different neighborhoods often to meet together at quiltings, parties, weddings or some merry-making assemblage. It was not long before I engaged in those diversions, and soon became very fond of them. I never tried to dance; neither did I have any inclination for that species of mirth, but for singing plays, and for songs, and plays of romance generally, I had a particular liking and generally indulged in them to great excess, so much so that I soon found myself looked upon by others as one of the ring-leaders in those diversions.

        While these plays and diversions were being acted or going on in my presence I seldom thought of the subject of religion except when I saw some professor of religion or member of the church engage in them, and then I thought it was very unbecoming, and concluded that if I were a christian I would not indulge

in any of those things. At that time I loved to play, and felt there were no religious restrictions upon me, but that I had liberty to indulge and give full scope to my inclinations in these things, but my mind was so impressed with the inconsistency of christians going into these plays that I would never persuade a professor of religion to engage in them, if I knew the person to be a professor. Sinner as I was, I thought that christians should be a peculiar people and separate from the world.

        As well as I can recollect, when I was engaged in those diversions my mind was occupied with little else than vanity, and I soon found that this was the most successful way for me to pursue in order to drown or smother the workings of conviction upon my mind. Though I felt that it was a great sin to stifle the work of conviction in the heart, yet to prevent detection I have rushed headlong into these plays with all the outward appearance of being as vain and blithesome as any of the crowd. But when I left the place reflection gave me more pain than the diversion gave me pleasure. I did sometimes become very miserable in taking a retrospective view of my past conduct, and wished that I had never been born, but I must let no one know this, and thus I kept it concealed in my own bosom and appeared to have as few serious thoughts as most persons have at that age.

        I will here state a fact which many persons now living have heard me relate both in preaching and in conversation. It is this: from the time when I was first convicted at the camp-meeting till I professed

religion, which was about five years, I never attended preaching and paid attention to the sermon without feeling more or less affected. I became satisfied that if I gave that attention to preaching which it was my duty to do, I should become so agitated in my mind that concealment would be impossible, and as I must keep it concealed at all hazards, I would often stay out of doors during the sermon and thus be better prepared to enjoy myself with young people in the evening. If I went in the house and took my seat, I would often think, now I will keep my place but I will pay as little attention to what the preacher may say as possible or I shall be detected or unfit to spend a pleasant evening. In this way I often found my impressions deepest and more intense when alone because I would then give in to meditation and reflection.

        I made many vows and promises in my mind in regard to the subject of religion but generally violated them. I would resolve and re resolve, but as often break them as I made them, and thus I found there was little confidence to be reposed in a vow or promise made in my own mind and known only to myself and God. I do not recollect that I was impressed at that time with the fact that I was committing the sin of lying to God, though I was convinced of this afterwards, and that to my sorrow; for I often felt if I died without religion and went to hell, the sin which would torment me most would be grieving the Spirit, violating vows, and breaking resolutions, which would constitute the sin of lying to the Holy Ghost I sometimes felt that I would rather appear

before my Judge with all my other sins upon me than the grievious sin of quenching and grieving the Spirit, because I felt such awful forebodings on that subject. As time passed on, and as I was growing up to manhood, though under the medium size of young men of my age, I went to meeting nearly every Sabbath and would sometimes give a limited attention to the preaching of the Word, so that my slumbering convictions were often revived. About this period of my life, which was about the date of 1835 or 1836, there were considerable revivals of religion going on in different churches and among different denominations of christians. I would go to see some of those meetings to see and hear what was going on. I would sometimes almost get the consent of my mind to seek religion publicly by going to the mourner's bench, but something always intervened to prevent. I would sometimes see things occur in these meetings of which I disapproved, and I would make that a plea; at other times my heart appeared more hard and callous at the meeting that at other times when I was at home; and again I would cleave to my old opinion of being stricken down, and as such I could only attend those revival meetings as an observer. It was also about this period of my life that my mind was drawn out for the first time upon that mysterious subject in theology, the doctrine of election and reprobation. The difficulty seemed to be in making the foreknowledge of God harmonize with man's accountability; or, according to the more enlightened usage of those terms, to reconcile the sovereignty of God with the moral or

free agency of man. The nearest church, where I usually attended preaching once a month, was a Baptist church, and they had for their pastor as aged man, who, though illiterate, was a very excellent preacher, noted for his piety and christian deportment. In doctrine he was considered high Calvinistic bordering on Antinomianism. I reverenced him as a teacher sent of God. Of course I knew nothing then of christian love, but I delighted to honor him. He sometimes went to my father's house, and my parents regarded him as a teacher sent of God, and taught their children to do the same. He preached there a number of years, before the times of which I am now speaking. He gained many friends and followers. He left before my connection with the church, though I have seen him frequently since and heard him preach a few times. I have heard recently that he is dead. I have no doubt about his religion; I believe he lived and died a christian, and should it be my happy lot to get to Heaven I expect to see that worthy father in Israel there. As before stated, at this period of my life those mysterious doctrines were agitating the minds of christians and people generally, more or less. Many received them, as taught and explained by Calvinistic divines, while others rejected them in part or entire. I was of the opinion at that time that ministers sent of God knew all things pertaining to their office. I had an idea that ordinary ministers called and sent of God were endowed with the same power and functions (miracles excepted.) possessed by the Apostles of Christ. I had no idea that there were any mysteries or difficulties

in the Bible to a minister's mind, but that he understood the whole better than I did any little school-book that I had ever used. So when I heard any person say that the preacher taught a doctrine that was not true, I thought they must be very ignorant themselves or that they had dared to call in question the veracity of the preacher; for I believed that the preacher knew what the truth was whether he taught it or not. I Soon found that ministers were divided in their sentiments and opinions about this mysterious subject, and about many other doctrines contained in the Bible; and how was I to know who was right and who was wrong. All professed to be christians; all had the same Bible. The ministers who differed all professed to be called and sent by the same God to discharge the same duty and to fulfil the same design and purpose of their one great Master. I was therefore driven to the necessity of considering this subject for myself. I soon got it tangled up in my mind, and would have gladly untangled it if I had known how; but in trying to untangle it I got my mind and some of the broken threads of my subject tied together, so that when I would have gladly laid it down I was unable to do it because it seemed to be tied fast to my mind. I at length concluded that I would go to meeting and hear with good attention the old preacher's explanation, and as this was a favorite topic with him I had no doubt that he would enable me to untangle it at least so far as to enable me to loose my mind from it, for it had become very wearisome and burdensome to me. I went to the meeting, heard the good old man preach; he said a great many things

about the foreknowledge and purposes of God, and as usual the doctrine of election was his favorite topic.

        I found at the close of the sermon my mind was more entangled than ever before but I attributed it to my weak and imperfect understanding more than to anything else. I thought I would be glad to talk with him about the matter but had neither confidence or resolution in itself to do so. In treating on this subject he had said that a man's good works did not forward him in religion, neither did his bad ones hinder him; but all depended upon the superabounding love of God shown us in Christ before the foundation of the world and that none could share this grace but the elect, or those given to Christ in the covenant of redemption. In this way he would extol the grace of God, but leave the subject lame in my dark and imperfect mind, in regard to man's accountability. I felt and believed that I was accountable to God for my conduct and that I should be judged and rewarded in the last day according to the deeds done in the body; but if a man's good works did not forward him, nor his bad ones hinder in religion, of course there was nothing that I could do to better my condition, or to alter my case in any way whatever. I thought if I could be certain that I understood his meaning clearly I would settle down in the doctrine of fate, and enter fully into the sentiment of thousands who say if I am to be saved I shall be saved and if I am to be lost I shall be lost, and attribute the whole concern to the foreknowledge or decree of God. But I felt conscious that I did not understand him correctly,

for I remembered that he almost invariably concluded his sermons by exhorting sinners to repentance and faith. And although this appeared to my mind as a contradiction of what he had said in his preceeding remarks, yet I believed that by the light of religion he understood it clearly, and as I was in darkness, and had no spiritual discernment, therefore I could not understand it; but this did not remove the difficulty from my mind, for there were many who professed to be christians, and whose piety was undoubted, that differed as widely with the preacher on this subject as any of the world, and why was it that they could not understand it? But at last I came to the conclusion that the preacher understood his own business best, and that others had not enjoyed the same light on this subject that he had, and therefore they did not understand it clearly. I tried again to lay down the subject as too high for me, but was unable to do so from the fact that the threads of the subject were interwoven and tangled with the threads of my mind. About this time some of my companions and former associates made profession of religion. I knew some of them had been more wild and out-breaking in their habits than I had been, and why was it that they could get religion so soon, and apparently so easy, and I must grovel on in the dark without any prospect of obtaining it? I would sometimes think that this was an evidence that the doctrine of election and reprobation, as I understood it, was true: "For it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy." I

would think he was one of the elect, therefore he is brought into the fold; I am one of the reprobates, as such I am left out. Then again I would think that my sins were of a more aggravating nature than theirs; they had sinned outwardly, I had sinned inwardly; their sins were open, mine concealed; but that difficult and tangled subject seemed to press upon my mind more or less daily. One day in midsummer, while I was hoeing corn, this subject came with considerable force to my mind, and I concluded that I would endeavor to examine it by simplification. I thus thought of myself, a poor, hard-hearted sinner, laboring and toiling with a load of guilt upon my mind, and no way to get it off; my lot appears to be a hard one, laboring and toiling all my days to support a life that I cannot enjoy, and after I have tugged through this life, with all its burdens and sorrows, lie down and die, and go to hell; but it is my lot - my destiny - and there is no way to avoid it. It has all come about in consequence of the foreknowledge, decrees and purposes of God; therefore this doctrine, as understood by myself, is true, notwithstanding all my feigned ignorance or efforts to evade it. There is no chance for me, so will make myself contented.

        I think about this time I indulged some hard thoughts about my Creator. I felt that I had had no part in bringing myself into the world, and to be compelled to live a sinner, die a sinner, and to go to hell a sinner, it was hard. While meditating on my awful condition, the impression was made on my

mind that perhaps I did not understand this subject yet, and that if I would look at it again I would see it differently; so I concluded I would do so, as it could make my case no worse, if it made it no better. Now, said I, God does know all things, always has, and always will. I give into that sentiment heartily.

        Well, if He has all knowledge, He knew whether you would be born or not, and whether you would live to your present age or not, and knew the death that you would die, and of course whether you would be fit to go to heaven or not, and as such whether you would be saved or lost. Yet the mere fact of His knowing this does not determine it to be so, for you would have pursued the same course that you have pursued, even if it could have been unforeknown.

        I give into this also, and said let me work this rule of simplification a little further. Now, said I, God knows what I am doing here to-day, and the state of my mind is plain to Him. He knows whether I will work till night or stop short - whether I will finish this now or leave a few hills at the end. I wish I knew which way God knows it to be, then I would try to act differently, and see if foreknowledge has any restraint on my actions or not. I raised my hoe to cut up a sprig of grass near a stalk of corn, and the impression came into my mind with redoubled force: Now God doth know whether you will cut up that bunch of grass or let it stand where it is, and yet you have the physical power to do either, cut it up or let it stand; you can do as you will. I paused and considered, With my hoe suspended in the air for

a few moments, in order to decide which I would do. I felt satisfied that I had full power and ability to do either way, and thought I wished I did know which way God knew I would act, so that I might try my ability to act differently. My motive for this was not to frustrate any of the designs or purposes of God in reference to His foreknowledge, but to try to harmonize the conflicting parts of this mysterious and perplexing subject, and to untangle it in my mind, so that I might lay it down.

        While I was thus standing, with my hoe suspended, to determine which I would do, cut it up or leave it standing, this thought rushed into my mind: Now, what is your duty - cut it up or let it stand? The answer was at hand - cut up the grass and let the corn grow. And as quick as thought another deep impression was made on my mind, which was this: Go on and do your duty, and leave the rest to God. I immediately felt relief; the subject vanished from my mind.

        I was thus enabled to lay it down, with the satisfactory evidence that the foreknowledge of God, be it what it might, imposed no restraints upon me so far as duty was concerned. And I have never felt any desire to take it up since.

        I was thus taught the truth and force of that passage of Scripture which says: "Secret things belong to God, but revealed things belong unto us and to our children forever."

        I also found that this simple incident in the history of my life removed a load from my mind, which all

the metaphysical reasoning that I had ever heard, or anything else connected with that subject had ever been able to do. I have since learned that God often reveals to babes and sucklings what He sees fit to conceal from the wise and prudent, and thus perfects praise unto Himself.

CHAPTER III.

        Having laid down this subject, with no desire or intention of taking it up any more, my mind was exercised about my duty to myself and to God. I felt that I was a sinner, and without repentance I must perish in my sins. I had read in the New Testament that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, and that He by the grace of God had tasted death for every man; but how to avail myself of the benefits of the death of Christ I knew not. I would sometimes think that I was not sufficiently penitent; again I would think that my convictions were not of the right kind, and that I must break off from all my sins, of whatever nature they might be, whether they consisted in act, thought, or deed; thus I would resolve to reform my life in all these particulars, thinking perhaps in this way I might make some preparation on my part to receive the grace of God; But I soon found these resolutions miscarried; for they were broken as often as made. Thus I soon found that I was under the influence of a carnal mind, which is not

subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be; I soon found that there was no dependence to be reposed in any of my resolves. During all this time I was using the utmost secrecy in keeping all these things to myself, not willing that any human being should know what was going on in my mind. I would sometimes think if I were away from all my associates and acquaintances I would be less embarrassed about keeping it concealed; for I felt that I needed instruction, and would have gladly sought it if it had not been for shame, or for fear that my associates would find it out, as they were my besetting sins. About this time I concluded that I would leave the neighborhood, and go a distance of some twenty miles on the other side of Cape Fear river, and attend a meeting that was to be held there. I would thus be away from all those outside influences which I felt were holding me back, and preventing me from seeking religion publicly. I went to the meeting with a determination to become a mourner. On my arrival there, I found that nearly all who were at the meeting were strangers to me. I thought I would have a favorable time. I went into the house and listened to preaching, with my mind made up to present myself as a seeker of religion at the close of the sermon; but when the sermon closed my heart was less affected than usual on such occasions. I felt that if I went to the mourner's bench, in cold blood, and with a hard heart, and could not shed tears, it would do me more harm than good, and more than all it would seem like tempting God; so I

remained where I was as an outside observer. Many thoughts revolved through my mind during the meeting. I saw that my resolutions were falling through. I could resolve well but performed badly; indeed I began to see that the heart was deceitful and desperately wicked, and who can know it? I found as many difficulties in the way of my seeking religion among strangers as I had found in the midst of my associates and acquaintances. I stayed at the meeting two days and then started home feeling that I had undertaken something and was leaving without even attempting to perform it. I think that these things occurred in the latter part of the summer of 1837. Soon after this I started to school, as my father told me that he wanted me to go about three months more; and I must learn all I could as he never expected to send me to school any more after that. I was not in a very good state of mind to learn at school; but did the best I could under the circumstances. It has often appeared to me when reflecting on this period of my life that I was under the influence of two conflicting spirits, one good and the other evil. Sometimes I would find myself yielding to one and sometimes to the other - both spirits seemed to be striving for the mastery. When under the influence of the good spirit I could shed tears freely, feel tender, and thought that I desired to be a christian, above everything else on earth; and frequently found myself in going to, or from school, in deep and prayerful meditation about the subject of religion. While on the other hand I would find myself under the influence of evil, my

mind would be filled with vain and sinful thoughts, my temper would become irritated, my passions aroused and I would often give vent to feelings and words which I looked upon as being wicked and sinful. I would sometimes think that it was needless for me to think about reforming my life or of amending my ways, for I had so often violated my vows, resolutions and promises that the thing appeared impossible.

        As it will be necessary for me to have reference to some dreams or visions in the course of this work, I will merely state in the outset that I place no great estimate on dreams in general or particular in the present age of the world. I am no interpreter of dreams, never have been, neither do I ever expect to be, yet I have always been, from the earliest period of my recollection, a great dreamer. On reflection I think I have found my dreams, in general, have indicated the state of my mind, that is, the nature of my dreams would be good or bad, pleasant or fearful, according to the exercises or state of my mind in my wakeful hours For several years during this period of my life I was the subject of some of the most terrific and awful dreams that I have ever heard related. I shall not attempt to relate them there in full. But believing in that Scripture passage which says "Let him that hath a dream tell a dream," I will say something about them as such and hope that all who may read this book will remember that they were dreams, and that I have told them as such.

        During my sleeping hours I was very often alarmed and greatly frightened at what I conceived to be the

Devil, who was always after me. Repeatedly and at different times he appeared in all the various shapes and forms in which he is said to transform himself. Sometimes he would come in the shape of some hideous beast of prey, sometimes more like a mammoth dog, but more frequently like a giant of a negro, ragged and filthy, generally with a chain in his hand or somewhere about him. It mattered not in what form or shape he came I always knew him and understood his errand. He was after me, and many a hard race I have run in my dreams in trying to get away from him. I would sometimes become so tired and weary that I would faintly sink to the ground. On one occasion I was thus running with might and main trying to get to my father's house, thinking if I could get to my parents they would plead, for me and that my life might be spared a little longer. I succeeded in getting near the house, though the Devil gained on me, and was near at my heels. I saw my father and mother come out of the house; they turned their backs on me and walked away very fast, but my mother turned her head and looked at me over her shoulder with a countenance filled with despair. O! that look; it is still fresh in memory.

        On another similar occasion I succeeded in getting my mother to plead for me, but the Devil told her that it would do no good, but would rather make the worse for me, even if he should spare my life a little longer, for that I would grow worse and worse the longer I lived, and that his title to me was good any way. My mother shed tears, and said she hated to see me drawn

away from her at that time and hoped that I would do better. My mother and the Devil agreed to refer the matter to me; said that I might have my choice, go or stay longer, the Devil persisting all the while that it would only make my case worse if I chose to stay. But of course I chose to put off the evil day as long as possible, and as the Devil walked off he exultantly remarked that it would do no good for me to stay here any longer, but it made no difference with him, as he was good for me any how.

        At another time I dreamed that he came in the shape of some hideous beast, took me upon his back and trotted off with me towards his horrible den, which I found to be an awful chasm in the side of a mountain or very steep hill. He carried me to the entrance of his den. When he opened the door I saw the thick clouds of smoke issuing from the den through the door and ascending upwards. I heard the heart rending shrieks of the damned, and as he went in, leaving me at the door, I thought he had gone down to fix my place. I awoke and behold it was a dream.

        On this occasion, as well as in almost every other dream, when things were rapidly hastening to a crisis, I awoke and was pleased to find that it was not a reality, though the sufferings of my mind were great while it was going on. I do not recollect that I had many pleasant dreams during the period of five years, which includes that time of my life which I spent while under conviction for sin. I was frequently attacked by dogs, which bit and mangled me, or by snakes and serpents of enormous size. I seemed to have no power

over the Devil or any other enemy but I was weak and easily overpowered by everything.

        A few times I dreamed of the judgment day, always unprepared and on one occasion the books were opened and the Book of Life was searched and my name was not there. I stood with awful feelings, expecting soon to hear my doom, "Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire prepared for the Devil and his angels." How glad I was when I awoke and found it was a dream.

        Perhaps some who may read this book may wonder why I have never spoken more freely about my dreams. I will here give some of my reasons: At the period of my life when these dreams were passing through my mind I frequently heard people both young and old telling their dreams, but my dreams were so different from theirs and such bad ones too that I was unwilling to tell them. Another reason why I kept them to myself was because I heard some old people say that the more a person told his dreams the more he would have them, and I desired no more of the sort that I had. Thus I kept them to myself while they were passing I have since refrained from speaking much about them for the reason that I did not repose much confidence in dreams, and for the further reason that I was unable to interpret them myself and never found any person that could.

        In making the foregoing statement about dreams in general, and some of mine in particular, I have tried to state facts as they occurred to my mind. Those dreams passed through my mind some thirty years ago. They are still fresh in memory. I send them

forth as dreams, hope you will receive them as such, and make the best of them you can. If there be any good connected with them I owe it to God; if there be anything bad I must take it to myself, and as such I drop the subject for the present.

CHAPTER IV.

        As before remarked, I was at this period of my life going to school five days in the week and as I thought it would be the last term in which I should ever go to school, I endeavored to learn all I could in such studies as would be most useful to me as a farmer's boy. I did sometimes however become so much concerned about my spiritual condition that my mind became incapacitated for my school studies. I recollect, on one occasion, I went in my wanderings to a grave- yard near by the school-house in which lay several persons with whom I had once been acquainted; especially the remains of one aged man had recently been deposited there as his resting place. I had been intimately acquainted with that old man from my first recollection. He always seemed to have something like filial affection for me, and had always appeared glad to see me. He was a very pious man, and I have no doubt a true christian. I went to his grave, looked on the mound of earth that covered his mortal remains, while many thoughts revolved through

my troubled breast. I thought if I were a christian I would gladly go to my grave to be relieved of my trouble; but my case was this: unfit to die and unprepared to enjoy life. While musing around this silent and solemn place this thought came into my mind, I wonder if the spirit of this good old man sees me or knows what I am doing, if so he must know something of the state of my mind, and it seemed if that were a fact he must sympathize with me. I had not yet learned that sorrow could not enter Heaven. I soon found my eyes suffused in tears and walked away with a sorrowful heart. About this time of my life I would go to preaching somewhere nearly every Sabbath but did not always give attention to the sermon for fear that I would become so much affected, that I should be unprepared to spend a pleasant evening with my associates. Revivals of religion were still going on, and many of the young people of the neighborhood were giving into these things. Among others were my two oldest sisters. They had now become public mourners. I would sometimes think that they had been over-persuaded, and I seemed to fear that they were not under conviction, as they had not been stricken down helpless; for I was still under that delusion.

        About this time of my life I was under great temptations to end my earthly existence, from the fact that I saw no prospect of my ever getting any better, and feeling that I was constantly growing worse. My sins rose up before me like mountains; my .broken

vows and promises seemed to stare me in the face; memory recalled the many instances in which I had endeavored to quench, grieve, and stifle the workings of the Spirit of God upon my heart; conscience also drew up the bill of indictment and I found myself a guilty and condemned sinner at the tribunal of God, and felt that I was justly exposed to his wrath. I felt a desire to escape, but knew not how, for I had not as yet opened the state of my mind to any human being and the weight of my load of sin and guilt became so heavy that I felt my burden was more than I could bear. I would sometimes think if I would let it be known to some christian people, and tell them the state of my mind, I would find some relief; and I have since become satisfied that if I had pursued that course it would have been better for me.

        On one occasion I resolved to try the experiment; I had an uncle and aunt living near by the place where I was going to school. They were both pious, and as I believed warm-hearted christians. I therefore concluded to go and spend a night with them, and as they were full of religion they would be apt to say something to me upon that subject, which would give me a favorable opportunity to tell them the state of my mind. I went and spent a night with them, and we talked about a great many things; and among other things, my uncle spoke of the happy meetings which had been and were still going on in almost every part of our country. He spoke of having been present at some of those meetings and the happy

seasons of refreshing grace showered down upon christians, and of the power of God which was displayed in the conviction and conversion of sinners, the many converts, &c. I would think, now is my time to open the state of my mind and tell my feelings, but it would seem if I made the attempt I should be choked, so I kept the subject and the burden wrapped up and concealed in my own breast. My uncle said to me "there will be a camp meeting at Buckhorn in the course of a week or two and I intend going for I believe we shall have a good meeting," and asked me if I was not going. I told him that I thought I would. "Yes, said he, I want your two sisters to go, and you must go with them, for I think we shall have a glorious meeting." My heart seemed to flutter within my breast; I desired to speak and tell my feelings but did not, only consenting to go to the meeting. I left my uncle's house next morning and returned to school with an accusing conscience for having violated and broken another promise.

        Time rolled on, days and nights passed away in rapid succession, and I with a heavy load of guilt upon my heart, my mind filled with the recollection of broken vows and promises, would try to pursue my studies at school, and often think of the camp meeting, which was soon to come on. I would sometimes think of making another vow to seek religion at that meeting; but I had violated so many solemn promises, made in my own mind, and known only to God and myself, that I was fearful to make another promise, for fear that I would break that also. Indeed the

burden of broken vows had become so heavy that I did not feel that I could bear up under the weight of many more. I would sometimes think that I would go to the meeting without any previous thought or arrangement of mind, in regard to the course which I would pursue when I got there, but that did not suit me, and I would think of the meeting, and of my going to it, and the course which I would pursue, when I should get there, in spite of all that I could do to avoid it.

        At length I made up my mind in regard to the course which I would pursue at the camp-meeting. I had a cousin who lived near the camp-ground, and who was about my age. He was a member of the Methodist Society, and appeared very pious. So I concluded, when I should arrive there, I would make myself known to him, and associate with him during my stay at the meeting, believing that he would be ready and willing at all times to render me any assistance which I might need, and he able to give, for I never doubted that he would do me all the good he could, and as little harm as possible. I also thought I would feel less embarrassed to open my mind to him than to almost any other person; and as I had determined to go there to seek religion, I desired to associate with one in whom I could at all times confide.

        The morning arrived when my two sisters and myself were to start to the meeting. New difficulties seemed to crowd upon me. I had some trouble in finding our horses, as they had left the pasture. I thought that was an unfavorable omen, as it indicated to my mind that Providence was against me, otherwise

the horses would have been in their proper place. But as I was not long in finding them, we made haste and started in due time, but after traveling something over half the distance to the meeting I heard sad news. We met up with some person who told us that my cousin, with whom I was going to associate at the meeting, was dead, and I think he was to be buried that day. My feelings on hearing this news were indescribable. It seemed that all my plans were falling through. All my prospects for the better seemed to be blasted, and my poor heart seemed to sink within me. The thought soon came to my mind that he was prepared to go; but suppose it had been me instead of him, how dreadful would have been my condition! I felt that he had gone to rest, to live with God in glory, but if it had been me I should have gone to hell, and been venting my fruitless cries where no mercy could ever come. I also began to think that time was getting short with me, and that my case was rapidly hastening to a crisis. I felt that I desired religion above everything else, and was willing to receive it on any terms that God would be pleased to grant it; but how to obtain it I knew not. Indeed, it seemed to me that Providence was frowning upon me, for all my plans were failing before the time arrived for me to put them into execution. Something, however, must be done, and done soon, or I should be unable to survive. I was conscious of the fact that there were others who would be at the meeting, and who could and would be able and willing to do as much for me as my dear cousin could have done if he had

not died. But I could not feel so free and open with them as I could have done with him. But the crisis was approaching, and I must take things as I found them. Delay would no longer do. I therefore could not do any better than to resolve again, though I feared it would be broken, like all my previous resolutions on the subject of religion; but as life or death seemed to be involved in my decision, I therefore determined in my own mind to present myself at the mourners' bench at the first opportunity.

        We arrived at the camp-ground just in time to hear the 11 o'clock or noon sermon. There was a large concourse of people present, and as usual, there were a great many wagons and vehicles standing in the outskirts of the encampment, and numerous tents, both of wood and cloth, arranged in regular style. I took a seat in the midst of the congregation, some distance from the preacher's stand, though near enough to hear. My feelings, during the sermon, were various and changeable. Sometimes I would feel tender, at other times my heart seemed hard and cold. There were some moments during the sermon when I felt if the invitation could be given then for anxious souls to come forward, I would be among them. I finally concluded, when the invitation should be given at the close of the sermon, I would go anyhow. I was not aware at that time of the desperate struggle I was then about to have with the powers of darkness. The battle was fierce, but not of long duration. The sermon closed, the invitation was given, but I did not go. My heart just at that moment felt so hard, and

my eyes so dry, that I felt if I went in such a frame as was then upon me I should sin presumptuously. Many, however, did go from all parts of the congregation. I looked on and listened to their mournings, lamentations and prayers till I wished myself among them; but I was not there. I soon became so wretched and miserable that I left the crowd, and went some three-quarters of a mile to look after our horses. As I left the camp-ground I could hear the different sounds which were usual on such occasions. Some were shouting, while prayer and praise were being constantly offered up to God. It seemed there was a suitable place for everybody but me; for even the hardhearted and careless seemed delighted. But I suppose they cared for none of those things.

        I found our horses doing well. They seemed so well satisfied that I would have willingly changed conditions with them. I started back to the encampment, for I knew not what to do. I left the road and went through an old field overgrown with thick pine. I thought I would be glad to see a ghost - or even the devil himself, if it would be the means of altering my wretched feelings, and of helping me to seek religion; but I saw nothing but the waving boughs of the young pines, which seemed to bespeak the praise of God. I returned to the road, and was soon nearing the encampment. I had a long hill to ascend, at the top of which was the camp ground. My burden was so heavy that I became weary, and felt as if I could hardly go.

        As I drew near the encampment, at the top of the

hill, I saw two men, with whom I was acquainted, in close conversation. They seemed wonderfully pleased at something, though I knew not what; and as neither of them was a professor of religion, I murmured in my own mind, because I was not permitted to feel and appear as they did. I felt the temptation, so strong in my mind, that I resolved to throw away my strange and delusive feelings, and go up and join them in their conversation. I started to them but only advanced a few steps, before the impression came into my mind that they would consider me as an intruder, and that I should be forcing myself where I was not wanted. This impression was so strong in my mind that I halted, and stood stock still, till one of them, Who, by the way, was my own dear cousin, took notice of my singular conduct, and spoke to me in a friendly way, inviting me to come up and join them in their conversation, reminding me that they were not on secrets. I now thought I can go without any difficulty; I started, but only got about half way to them when the impression came into my mind, with redoubled force, that he had only invited me, through courtesy, to join them in their conversation, but in reality neither of them wanted my presence. I halted again, under the weight of this last impression, and just at that moment the horn sounded-for evening services. A man, with whom I was acquainted, and who was also an efficient member of the church, was hastening to the stand; he passed just between me and my two friends in conversation; and by some means, I know not what, I found myself following close at his heels.

When he arrived at the altar, he went in, and I took seat as near as I could get to the altar. I now determined to give good attention to the sermon, and at the close I would be among the first to go to the altar as a seeker of religion. The man who preached that night appeared quite young though full of zeal; his text was, "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation; that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." The preacher spoke of the great salvation, wrought out by Christ, of the faithfulness of that saying, and proved it by many witnesses, some who had sealed their testimony with their blood, and others who were then living witnesses, and they all united in saying it is worthy of all acceptation. Upon the whole I thought he handled his subject well and preached a great sermon. In his closing remarks, he spoke of the great sin and danger of neglecting this great salvation, and in illustrating this truth he had reference to some cases in scripture, and to other incidents in human life. The sermon was heart-searching and soul-stirring to me. I felt that I was a great, very great sinner, and but for Paul's closing remark to the text, "Of whom I am chief," I should have despaired. This seemed to be my only plea, Jesus is able to save even the chief of sinners. I now thought I would rush into the altar at the first invitation and ask every body to pray for me; but to my surprise when the invitation was given I did not go. Some strange and unaccountable feeling passed over me and through me; I have since thought it must have been the devil's death struggle to keep me back from Christ.

I felt so bad that I sat with my head hung down like a bullrush, and could not so much as raise my eyes towards Heaven but only smite upon my breast and say God be merciful to me a sinner. I now thought of the deceitfulness of the heart, and the exceeding sinfulness of sin, and wished myself at the altar, but was not there. While I was thus meditating on my ruined condition, some kind friend came to me and said: "My friend, don't you want religion?" I made no reply, my heart was too heavy, but I rose up when he said to me: "Come, go with us, we will endeavor to do thee good, for the Lord hath spoken well concerning this way." I could not contain my feelings any longer. I burst out into a loud cry, and was willing to go anywhere upon God's earth if it would be a means of bettering my lost condition. This friend led me into the altar, and I am sure he could not be more willing to do so than I was to go. He prepared a place for me to kneel by a seat and gave me some good advice by way of encouragement. Telling me to confess my sins to God and pray for his pardoning grace; to seek him with all my heart, for in the very day and hour I should do that He would be fond of me, &c. My good friend then left me for a short time, as I suppose to meditate on what he had said to me. My feelings soon became more calm, and I will here give as near as I can the exercises of my mind, at this important period of my life. The first thought, as well as I recollect, that came to my mind, was this: what have you come here for? My answer was to seek the salvation of my soul, and I would be glad to know what

the Lord would have me to do. The next question was, are you willing to give up all for religion; the world with its pleasures and allurements, and all your sins, and vain amusements; in short, are you willing to deny yourself, take up your cross and follow Christ wherever He may call you to go for religion. I paused in my mind, before giving an answer, for fear that my poor, treacherous heart might deceive me as it had so often done before, when I thought of this passage of Scripture: "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul; or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul." I then felt that by the help of the Lord I could do it. Then I saw in imagination my associates and companions in sin standing near by me, and I thought they looked as if they were concerned about me and wished to get me away from the place which I then occupied. The question was now proposed to my mind, can you forsake these for religion? I answered yes, if they will not go with me to Heaven, I am determined not to go with them to hell. They vanished from my mind in an instant and I saw them no more on that occasion. Then my mind seemed to take a more extensive view of the world than it had ever done before, indeed I have often said it was like the fool's eyes, wandering to the ends of the earth. The last question was now proposed, which was this, are you willing to give up the world with all of its glory; its pomp, its pleasures its wealth, its honors, and be a meek and humble follower of Christ for religion? I replied, yes, I am willing to be anything, to do anything, to suffer anything for

the sake of religion. Only save my soul and I will submit to anything. And just here, as unexpected to me as anything could be, I lost my burden - my burden of guilt and sin, which I had carried for five long years, I mean from the time I was first struck under conviction. I was still kneeling at my seat where my good friend had left me. I did not believe it was religion but thought it was a token for good; it rolled off so easy, I knew not how, it seemed as if a gentle breeze of air had blown through my breast, and with a gentle hand had brushed my load of sin away.

        Now, I had been at the mourners' bench but a very short time - not as long, I suppose, as it has taken me to write the account of it - and as I had always considered the travail of a soul from nature to grace to commence with the public or outward sign, my travail had been too short to obtain religion; and more than that, I had not seen heaven or hell, and I had heard some say that they had seen both places, and I, of course, expected to see my Saviour, and hear Him say, arise, go in peace; thy sins, which are many, are all forgiven thee. But as none of these things had taken place with me, I could only consider what had taken place with me as only a token for good, only to inspire hope in me to persevere. I knew also that I was at a Methodist camp-meeting, and I feared they would discover some change in the exercise of my mind, from the fact that I could not pray, God be merciful to me, a sinner; Lord save a soul condemned to die, as I had done; for the weight of guilt and sin was gone. And when I would try to pray I would find myself

laughing. So as I was fearful they would pronounce me a convert before I was satisfied with myself, I crawled under the bench where I had been kneeling, in order that they might not notice me so closely. But I did not remain there long, for my uncle, to whom I had gone on a former occasion to disclose the state of my mind, but failed to do it, was there, and had just learned that I was in the altar of prayer. He sought diligently for me, till he found me under the bench. He took great pains in getting me from under the bench, placed my head in his lap, and began to rejoice over me, that I had come to the conclusion to seek religion; gave much good advice, and told me to pray to God for renewing grace. After talking to me for a few moments, by way of encouragement I suppose, he discovered that I was not praying as he thought a true penitent should pray. My good friend, or some other good brother, said to my uncle: "Do you know that young man?" My uncle replied: "Yes; he is a nephew of mine." "Well," said my friend, "let him be whom he may, he has got religion." I wished he had kept that word back, for I was not satisfied, because I had not seen visions or heard sounds or voices from heaven.

        My uncle then began to notice me very closely, to see what was the nature of my prayer, and soon began to interrogate me on the subject of religion. He said: "You have got religion now haven't you?" I made no reply. He asked me again, and I replied that I was not satisfied. He then asked me my reason for not being satisfied, when I replied by saying it was

too soon. He told me that God's works were not like man's works; that God only had to speak the word and the work was done; that God could convert a soul in an hour or a minute - whenever the heart was prepared, as in a month or year.

        Just at this instant my aunt, the wife of my uncle, came to me shouting and praising God for what He had done for her soul, and for what He was now doing for the souls of her people. I rose up and commenced shouting and praising God aloud; and the next thing I remember I was going over the altar, embracing in my arms christians and ministers, in token of my love to God and love to them. I thus went on shouting and praising God, till I was exhausted. I never saw before such beautiful faces. It appeared to me that everybody was happy - even the trees in the grove seemed to speak the glory of God, and the leaves in the trees seemed to speak His praise. I felt that I was heaven-born and heaven bound. I could not believe that I ever should grieve, or that I ever should suffer again.

        But how changeable are our feelings, and how little did I then know of the temptations and trials of the christian; for early next morning, as the sun was just rising, I walked out of the tent where I had been sleeping, and looking over the grove and seeing several persons whom I had seen over night, none of these things, thought I, look so beautiful as they did last night, neither do I feel that ecstasy and thrill of joy which I imagined I felt then. I began to doubt and fear that I had missed the substance and caught the

shadow, and therefore was deceived. I was determined not to rest there; if I was deceived I desired to know it, and know it soon, in order that I might set about seeking religion again.

        I left the encampment, went some distance in the woods, and made my way to a large white oak tree. When I arrived there, I fell on my knees and commenced trying to pray to God to show me what I was and where I stood, and if deceived, to undeceive me; but I had spoken only a few words, when it seemed that the Holy Ghost came down in love, and testified to my mind that I was a child of God. I then thought I would never doubt again.

        I returned to the camp-ground feeling so light that it seemed I only softly touched the ground.

        During that day I succeeded in getting the consent of several of my acquaintances to go into the altar and seek religion. I felt very certain if I could get them to go there they would be converted, and that soon. I found, however, it was not so easy to get them out christians as it was to get them in sinners, for some of them continued mourners for years.

        I had one sister who professed religion at the same meeting.

        We stayed at the meeting three or four days, and then left for home. Our parents had heard of the conversion of my sister and myself, and I doubt not they felt glad, but neither of them were professors, as I know of.

CHAPTER V.

        In a few days after I got home, I fell into doubting castle, and many a hard struggle I had with the tempter before I found relief. My doubts and fears were so great that I was bordering on despair. I would repair to the woods and other secret places to make known my request to God, but it seemed to me that the heavens were sealed against me, and that God's ears were deaf to my prayers, as it was more than a week before I found relief. My mother became somewhat alarmed at my situation, and feared that my uneasiness of mind would result in something serious. She sought an opportunity to talk with me on the subject. She said that all christians had doubts. "Yes," said I, "but not such as mine, for I am deceived, and I want to seek religion again." She replied that she had heard many persons relate their experiences, and that they had all been troubled with doubts and fears, and therefore she hoped I would not go crazy on the subject of religion. I knew she felt deeply concerned about me, but I felt no relief in mind from anything she had said to me. The time rolled on, when brother Dowd was to preach at Holly Springs. I determined to go, and see if I could not find some relief there. I attended meeting Saturday and Sunday without any material change in my feelings.

        As I was going home on Sunday evening, riding alone, my mind in prayerful meditation, I decided

the question. I believed that I had been deluded. I had made a great profession, but had deceived myself and all who saw and heard me. I resolved to return to the meeting at Holly Springs next day, and present myself at the mourners' bench, and seek religion in good earnest. My mind was somewhat relieved at this decision, for I now had a plain course to pursue, and I had strong hopes that I would yet obtain religion during this time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.

        When I arrived at home my mother, as usual, wanted to know how I was getting on, and whether I had become satisfied or not. I told her that I wanted to go back to the meeting next day, and also what I intended to do. She did not object, but I thought she did not heartily approve of my course. My father said he wanted me to stay at home on Monday, as he had some particular work for me to do that day, and said I might go on Tuesday and stay longer if the meeting continued. Of course I consented, but had much rather gone on Monday.

        Tuesday morning I started to meeting, fixed in my determination to go to the mourners' bench that day. I continued in this notion till I arrived within a short distance of the meeting-house. Here I overtook some of my former associates, and learned of them that on the day before there was a great outpouring of the Spirit of the Lord, and several had professed religion, and among others, some of my former associates. On hearing this news, my feelings changed in an instant. My heart was overflowing with joy, I could scarcely

refrain from shouting aloud. I had no doubts about my religion now. And as to my going to the mourners' bench, there was no use, for I had nothing on my own account to mourn for. I then concluded that I would go in the house, and seat myself as conveniently as I could and pay good attention to preaching.

        Brother Dowd preached one of the most heart-searching and soul-stirring sermons that I ever heard. I had made up my mind never to shout again if I could help it. I thought if I should ever be compelled to shout by an irresistible power, I could then know that I had religion, and never doubt again. Before the sermon was ended there was a great excitement in the house. Sinners were crying out, mourners praying aloud, and many christians were rejoicing. My own heart was filled with joy inexpressible and full of glory. I wanted to shout, glory to God for dying love and redeeming grace. I felt that I ought to shout, but I had vowed never to shout again if I could avoid it. So I was occupied in striving to curb down and suppress my feelings; during this struggle I felt that I was raised some eighteen inches above my seat, and was floating in the air like a feather. I shook and trembled like a leaf. This state of feeling lasted only a few minutes, and after it passed off I settled down on my seat, and the state of my mind became awful. I felt hard-hearted, cold and indifferent. It seemed to me that I had done wrong. I had quenched the Spirit; it had taken its flight, I feared never to return to me again. The devil whispered and said that I had

committed the unpardonable sin, and I feared that it was even so. I repented of my conduct in striving against the Spirit.

        I made another vow, and that was if the good Spirit should ever return to me again, I would act out whatever the Spirit might work within. From that time till I joined the church, my feelings were fluctuating. I was often in an ecstasy of joy, shouting and praising God; and at other times greatly depressed in spirit, and filled with doubts and fears. As I was thus trying to live a christian life by frames and feelings, I had but a limited idea of living by faith. In reference to this period of my life, I have often said, I was always either doubting or shouting.

        In the latter part of this year 1837, in connection with many others, I united with the church at Shady Grove, Wake county, N.C. Two of my sisters joined at the same time, and we were all baptized by brother P.W. Dowd.

        After being thus reunited with the church by experience and baptism, I felt myself under the most solemn obligation, both- to my God and to my brethren, for my religious deportment. I soon resolved, in my own mind, the course which I would pursue. I felt that it was my duty, as a servant of God and a member of His household, to labor in His vineyard according to my ability. I was conscious that the Lord never called any into His vineyard to idle or loiter, but that it was the duty of all to labor in that part of the vineyard where Providence assigned them,

and that every one should use his talents or abilities in that sphere in which he would be likely to accomplish most good.

        I had no idea of trying to preach the Gospel at that time, but felt it to be my duty, and the duty of every member of the church, to do all we could for the glory of God and the good of souls. I made up my mind that I would be strict in my attendance upon the public ordinances of religion, and ever be ready to assist in the support of the pastor, and in defraying the expenses of the church, according to my ability.

        The year 1838 found me a member of the church. P.W. Dowd was our beloved pastor. I lived with my father this year, and labored on the farm. I was always glad when the time come to go to the church meeting. I was pleased to meet my brethren at the place appointed for the worship of God, especially my dear pastor and my younger brethren, who came into the church at the time I did. Thus I was glad when it was said unto me, "Let us go up to the house of the Lord, and let us exalt His name together."

        It was during this year I began to have some idea of living by faith. My feelings were not so fluctuating as they had been. Religion seemed to become more firm and fixed in my mind, and consisted more in a living and abiding principle in the soul than in frames and feelings.

        It was during this year that brother Jesse Howell, Jr., commenced exercising in public by way of preaching. He was a member of the same church with myself and a zealous, warm-hearted christian. He held

a great many meetings in private houses in the neighborhood, and great good seemed to result from the same. I often went to his meetings, and was much revived in my own mind, though I did not take part in any of the public exercises, except singing, as yet. As I had a strong voice, and would sing with animation - or for some other reason-brother Howell was of opinion that I had a gift for public prayer. There were other older brethren of the same opinion. They began to speak to me on the subject. I was very diffident and timid, and thought it a little strange that they should single me out from the rest of my young brethren and urge me to take up the cross.

        At that time I did not think that it was any more my duty to pray in public than it was the duty of other young brethren. I was firm in my belief, that it was the duty of all to do something; and that every one should engage in that part of the work for which he was best qualified. But, as this subject was often brought to bear on my mind with some weight, I thought if I had the ability I would willingly bear the cross. But why should I commence public prayer so soon, when there were many who had grown old in the church, and who had never been heard to pray in public; I did not feel that I had any special gift or calling, but only the general call to labor in the vineyard. I finally concluded that it was the duty of every male member of the church to exercise the gift of prayer in public, if he had the ability to do so, without injuring the cause of Christ. I was not disposed to push myself forward in this duty, but felt a willingness

to make a trial whenever a favorable opportunity presented itself, and I should be called on to do so.

        About this time I attended one of brother Howell's meetings. It seemed to me that he had some idea of what had been going on in my mind, for he took me aside privately, before he commenced the exercises of the evening, and told me that I must help him, and as an inducement for me to make the attempt, he said: "After I get through with my discourse I will call on you to pray, and if you should fail for want of matter and form, I will take up the prayer and go through with it." With diffidence I consented to make my first effort. At the proper time I was called on to pray. I commenced; soon became excited in my feelings; my zeal outrun my judgment; many in the congregation seemed to be shocked; some shouted aloud and others cried. I succeeded in winding up my prayer with a shout.

        We had quite an interesting meeting that night. I felt relieved from the fact that I had endeavored to discharge a duty which I believed to be of general obligation. But afterwards on reflection, I was not so well satisfied about the course which I had pursued. I had now opened a gap in my history which I feared I would not be able to keep up. I would have no objection to trying to keep it up, provided I could always have due notice given, but to think of the probability of my being taken on surprise at every meeting which I might attend, of being called on to pray here and there, and everywhere, I felt conscious that I should not be able to command variety, form and

matter sufficient to go through with it. And again I would think of winding up my prayer with a shout; and of praying with the spirit and not the understanding. I thought it might answer a few times from a new beginner, but if repeated too often it would wear down and become disgusting; and as such injure the cause of religion. I would sometimes wish it was not known that I had ever attempted to pray in public. But I was satisfied the fact would be known as far as I was known myself.

        About one week after my first attempt to make public prayer, I was at preaching on the Sabbath day. The house was crowded with people. I took a seat somewhere in the back part. The minister preached a very feeling and pathetic discourse. After he got through his sermon he gave an invitation to any and all to come forward who desired an interest in the prayers of the people of God. Several came forward. This seemed to animate the soul of the old preacher; he met them on the floor, and exhorted them and the congregation at large till his strength failed. He then began to call on his brethren who sat near him one after another to lead in prayer; they all declined with a shake of the head. My poor heart began to flutter. I thought they ought to have consented to try, but they did not. I wished that I was more experienced, then I would volunteer my poor efforts; but I was too young and inexperienced to do that; and more than all, it was not a Baptist meeting; but in spite of all my reasoning I did sympathize with the old man, and felt anxious to assist him. The old minister rose up

once more and said: "Is it possible that there is not one in this congregation who is willing to help me pray for these mourners?"

        No one spoke. Just at that moment I saw a sister step to the preacher and whisper in his ear. He instantly turned his face towards me, and called me by name, and asked me if I would not help him pray for those mourners. I rose up and started to him and said, "I will try." My feelings were excited; I pitched my voice entirely too high; I prayed aloud, with spirit and animation; but the understanding was overpowered. As it was on my first attempt so it was now. There was a great shout and much crying, and I wound up my prayer as before, by shouting.

        After this I began to think more maturely about the course which I had now undertaken to pursue, and as I had commenced, I had no inclination to turn back or come short. I therefore thought I would turn my attention to the subject of prayer, and endeavor to cultivate both the spirit and form, in hopes that I might be able to wind up my next without a shout from me. I had no idea that my gift extended any further than that of praying in public. I called to mind several in the churches around who exercised in this way, and I made them my patterns I soon wore off my diffidence, and was willing to take up the cross and bear it as a fellow-helper to the truth. My brethren, unlike myself on this subject, now began to urge me to go a step further. They would urge me to give a word of exhortation. I would decline, by saying, "I have gone to the extent of my gift." Some

of them would urge me strenuously, and when I would continue to refuse they would bluff me off by saying: "Remember Jonah who fled from the Lord." Or by saying: "Don't resist the Spirit of the Lord, for we believe you will have to preach yet."

        Of course I though differently, and believed them to be mistaken. It is true I would sometimes think I would rather be a preacher than any other man, more especially if I could preach like those who were wielding the sword of the Spirit with a masterly hand. But that was a calling too high for me and I thought that I had none of the essential qualifications of minister of the Gospel. I had neither the mental or acquired ability. And above all I felt conscious that I had not as yet received what I then conceived to be the internal call.

        I was now in my twenty-second year it behooved me to begin to think and set for myself in regard to my duty to my God to myself and to society. In my non-age I had a father to provide for my temporal wants. I must now set out upon the rough sea of life and steer my own boat.

        This was a very trying time in my history. I was poor, but had come by it honestly. I had intended it from my parents. My education was very limited but as good as my parents were able to give me. My constitution was feeble. I would think of trying to get my living by farming, but the lands were poor and no one to labor but myself, and I would become discouraged. Again, I would think of spending what little I had of this world's goods in trying to obtain

an education and then teach school for a living; but I was now getting too old to go to school. My friends would advise me, and their advice was as various as the workings of my own mind.

        I think it was about this period of my life that I heard a sermon preached from this text: "In all thy ways acknowledge him and he shall direct thy paths."

        I felt a desire to submit my case to the will of the Lord. but knew not how. I prayed to the Lord to direct me in all my movements. I knew not then, but think I know now, how the providential hand of God directed me.

CHAPTER VI.

        It was during this year that brother Dowd conceived the idea of getting up a school at his own home for the purpose of educating young men for usefulness. Brother Dowd's explanation of his object to me was this: "I have sought out a number of young men, mostly members of the different churches under my pastoral care, whom I desire to go to school and prepare themselves to be useful members of society, hoping that some of them may, after awhile, become ministers of the Gospel."

        I was reminded of the fact that I was one of that number and urged upon by brother Dowd to go to school Great difficulties rose up in my way. The

cost of board and tuition; the time required to accomplish the object. And in spite of all that I could say, or brother Dowd either, my companions and friends would have their own opinion, that I was going to school to learn to preach. I knew that was not my object, yet I dreaded the reproach which that impression would bring upon me.

        Notwithstanding all those difficulties, I made up, my mind to go to school. Brother Dowd failed to make up his school; the reason assigned was that the young men preferred getting married to going to school Only two were willing to make the sacrifice. I had made my arrangements to go, and was much disappointed when I learned the result. I knew not what course to pursue, but concluded that I would go and consult brother Dowd as to what I had best do. He advised me to go to school at all hazards, and promised to assist me in making arrangements to do so. He said that brother George W. Thompson was teaching school at an academy in the district of Wake Forest, and that he was very certain that I could get in as a student. He also promised to ascertain in a few days and let me know. The arrangement was made, and I was to start to school in February, 1839. Many of my friends and relatives dissuaded me, and feared that I would regret it when too late. I have no doubt as to the purity of their motives. They were illiterate men, and knew not the advantage of an education. One good brother, a deacon of' the church, too, advised me to read my Bible, and exercise in prayer and exhortation, believing, as he said.

that to be the best course for me to pursue. He said that he was fearful education would cool down or blunt my zeal, and thus injure my usefulness. I told him that I had no idea of preaching or trying to preach. He asked me if I should feel it my duty to try to preach if I would not yield to my convictions. I told him that I would yield to a sense of duty on that or any other subject; but that if I should ever feel it to be my duty to preach I should greatly need an education, and had no idea that I should ever regret going to school if I should ever be called to preach.

        I soon made my arrangements to leave my father's house to go to school. I had told my father that I desired what little he was able to give me to be given in that way. I had a fine mare which my father had given me. I told him to sell her and pay my board and tuition for the first ten months' schooling, which was done.

        I had never left home but for a few days at a time, and I found it hard to cut loose from those endearing ties which bind kindred hearts together. But I must now leave my kindred and friends, and go to a strange neighborhood, some thirty-five or forty miles from home, to commence the study of my native language, for I knew nothing of English grammar, history, or geography And as to definition, I had never studied it.

        I was soon introduced to brother Thompson, and became a pupil in his school. I boarded with John M. Fleming, Esq., of Wake. In him and his excellent wife I found two good and steady friends They

treated me like a father and mother. I never shall forget their kindness to me while memory is retained.

        I have learned that Mr. Fleming died some few years ago. I hope and pray that the Lord will be a husband to his dear companion and give her grace to bear up under all her bereavements; and may his surviving children make their father's God their God; and may they find Him a stronghold in the day of trouble and a very present help in every time of need.

        I feel a delicacy in speaking much about my worthy preceptor, George W. Thompson. Nothing that I can say will add much to his worthy name and character. He is well known as a truly christian gentleman. As a teacher of youth, his name stood high. He has had the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing many of his former students promoted to stations of honor and several have become ministers of the Gospel. I shall ever hold him in grateful remembrance.

        A great change was now commencing in my history, though unperceived by me at the time. The neighborhood in which I was raised was illiterate, the people generally poor but honest and moral. The people in the district of Wake Forest were generally well educated and many of them wealthy. The state of society was quite different from that I had been accustomed to. Indeed, this part of Wake county was noted at that time as surpassing any other neighborhood in refinement, good society and wealth. I felt somewhat embarrassed for awhile but soon became familiar with the customs and fashion of the

neighborhood. Indeed I was treated with as much respect as if I had been the son of some wealthy man. I soon formed acquaintances, and made friends of the people generally. I become intimately acquainted with the families of the Crenshaws, Thompsons, Dunns, Rogerses, Gills, Cooks, Ferrells, Joneses, and others. I also became acquainted with several of the college students. It was in this year that W.T. Brooks a