serving on such occasions the two-fold purpose of chapel and hotel. It was a double log cabin, with a door communicating between the two rooms, the women occupying one, the men the other, in both the uses to which the house was put. Seats for the congregation were provided by puncheon slabs resting on four legs. The young people who could not find access to the house, would stand beneath the trees, or loll upon the grass. The congregation would come from fifteen to twenty miles around to enjoy the services. The exercises invariably began on Saturday at eleven o'clock, with a sermon from the presiding elder. In the afternoon the conference of official members was held; in the evening the most available preacher was "put up," in the language of the country, and after this sermon an exhortation was usually delivered by some one else.

At the close of the exercises the benches were carried out and replaced by shuck mattresses, skins, and blankets, the men making their own beds, so that in a little while, as you looked over the sleepy scene, by the ray of an expiring pine knot, you might well conceive it a stratum of compact somnolent humanity. The first cockcrow is the signal for a universal arousing, and while some busy themselves in taking up and packing away the beds, others bring wood, four or eight feet long, to kindle

a fire in the capacious fireplace, by which the breakfast may be cooked. Others, with shirt-sleeves rolled up and collars à la Byron, in the breaking dawn, trudge to the spring or well, where ablutions are performed. A substantial meal is dispatched, for it may be long before we taste food again. At eight o'clock the Sunday services begin by a lovefeast, to which only members of the church are admitted. At eleven o'clock the doors are thrown open and the public enter. The ordinance of baptism precedes the sermon, the communion of the Lord's Supper follows it. On more than one occasion I have known it to be five o'clock before we tasted a mouthful after a sunrise breakfast. In the evening the last sermon of the quarterly meeting proper was delivered, and by daybreak the following morning all were riding off on their several ways.

On the Saturday night in question, after the sermon, the sonorous voice of my chief said, "William, exhort." The will of the presiding elder at these times is absolute, and obedience is one of the lessons enjoined upon young preachers. I had no resource but to stand up, frightened as I was almost to death, behind my split-bottom chair, in lieu of a pulpit, in front of the huge fireplace, and attempt to speak by the light of the smouldering embers and one or two candles fast sinking to their sockets, to the

crowd of hunters and farmers filling the cabin, who gaped and stared at a pallid, beardless boy. Of course words were few, and ideas fewer, and on resuming my seat I had the uncomfortable impression, that that congregation had listened to about as poor a discourse as ever was delivered. Such was my first attempt at preaching.

The interval between Monday and Saturday of each week, was generally spent in travelling a daily stage toward the next appointment, and preaching once or twice a day, and visiting the people on the road. Wherever we stopped we were treated with the cordial hospitality for which the West is proverbial. No matter what the time of day, food was produced and we were always urged to eat. This saying has passed into a wise saw, "that yellowlegged chickens (the largest and finest breed), know a Methodist preacher as far as they can see him, and that they no sooner behold one approaching than they squeak with terror, and betake themselves to the timber, knowing that their heads are in danger."

At one of our meetings I met the happiest man, I think, that I have ever known. He was a bachelor, and a shoemaker, who worked half the time to support himself and horse, and attended meeting the other half. I cannot say much for the breadth of his intellect, the extent of his information, or the quality of his taste. His faith seemed to be un

clouded, and his soul was ever on the mountain-top. He was passionately fond of singing, and had a repertory of songs and tunes, all his own. I think you might have heard him half a mile off; I have been awakened at all hours of the night by the vociferous strains of this minstrel, and have seen him astride a bench see-sawing to and fro, slapping his hands and pouring forth his stentorian solo. Music seemed to be his meat, drink, and lodging. His favorite verse, self-made, no doubt, was the following:

"I'd rather have religion,

While here on earth I stay,
Than to possess the riches

Of all America.

Chorus.

Crying, victory, victory,

I long to see that day."

The rough and tumble life of the woods, the fare— repulsive at first, but made acceptable by sharp exercise and appetite—of hog, hominy, and corn bread, saleratus biscuit, and fried chicken (none of which I have been able to tolerate since), as the season wore on, began to give me flesh and color.

CHAPTER VI.

LET NO MAN DESPISE THY YOUTH.

My itinerating life was yet fresh when the two preachers from the Fancy Creek circuit visited one of our quarterly meetings; at its close they besought the presiding elder to lend me to them for a week's round, promising to deliver me safe and sound at his appointment the next Saturday. He assented, and away I trotted with my new-made friends. Our first stopping-place was at a house much like the one before described, where the senior preacher was to solemnize a marriage. We arrived at mid-day, and found a large company assembled-the future man and wife chatting gaily with their friends, as though the knot had been already tied. The ceremony was at once attended to, and the congratulations delivered, when the company was summoned to the most sumptuous banquet that the region could afford. I wish I were versed in the technicalities of feminine attire, that I might favor my lady readers with a description of the dresses worn on this gala day, and a comical one it would be; but, failing in