INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL. INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL. BY BISHOP MORRIS. I SHOULD like to introduce the readers of the Ladies' Repository to the Black River Swamp, in the state of Arkansas, but not till I get to it, nor yet exactly as I was introduced to it myself. In September, 1836, I left the Queen City, to attend the Tennessee, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Alabama conferences. It appeared like a long, fatiguing journey to perform on horseback and alone; but there were points in view which could be reached by no other means of conveyance. There might be disease and danger in the course; but I was on lawful business, intimately connected with the welfare of redeemed sinners; and why should any man ever fear to go where duty calls, or remain till his work is done? Moreover, I was well mounted upon Nick, a fine pacing gray. He moved as if on elliptic springs, and bore onward with a strength of muscle and power of endurance which excited my admiration. Far removed, not only from wife, children, and friends, but from the crowds of strangers which usually throng the public lines of conveyance, it was a time for reflection on the responsibilities and difficulties of my new relation, and not wholly unimproved. Lonely reflection, however, was soon superseded by practical duties. While in council with the brethren of Tennessee conference, at Columbia, a call made for volunteers to supply the wants of the new conference just set off in the state of Arkansas, was promptly responded to by some noble-hearted, self-sacrificing young ministers. Three of them were ready to bear me company thither, immediately after the final adjournment. Their names were Randle, Duncan, and Simmons. Passing down through the western district of Tennessee, we came on the fresh trail of fourteen thousand Creek Indians, just then removing from Alabama to their new home in the far-off west. At one of their camping places, then vacated, was seen a standing hollow tree, out of the side of which had been taken a slab, by cutting above and below, and splitting it off, and which had been carefully replaced. A citizen, whose neighbors had made examination, informed us, that in the hollow of that tree was a deceased Indian, standing erect, with his gun, blanket, and hunting costume, as he appeared when living. We subsequently saw several of these depositories of their dead. As a matter of convenience, the Indians were separated into companies of fifteen hundred, and a sub-agent assigned to each. We came up with the rear gang in the vicinity of Memphis, were two days passing their extended line of companies, and slept three nights in sight of their camps. No nation of men ever exhibited more powerful muscles than were developed in the persons of the Creek warriors. Like other people, they bore VOL. VII.-2 6 the marks of inequality. Some had the appearance of abject poverty. Among this class the men rode on ponies, carrying their guns and camp kettles, while the women trudged on foot, bearing heavy packs on their heads, and small children lashed upon their shoulders. A second class were better clad, had a better outfit, and presented more appearance of comfort. The third class, probably formed of the nobility of the nation, were gaudily attired in silk and jewelry, and exhibited the insignia of wealth and office. After crossing the "Father of waters" at Memphis, we immediately entered the Mississippi Swamp, which, at that point, was forty-two miles across. The track was so worked up by the teams and pack-horses, that we found it more pleasant to avoid it when practicable. For miles together our horses waded, but generally found firm bottom, except about the sloughs, where many tired Indian ponies stuck fast, and were left to perish in the bog, and where our noble animals had to struggle hard to escape the same fate. On the evening of the second day we emerged from the swamp, and crossed the St. Francis river. At a small green bottom two miles beyond the river, two companies of Creeks, numbering some three thousand in all, were camped for the night. We took lodging at a country tavern on the hill, about thirty rods from them. They had nearly as many ponies as people, and almost every pony wore a bell. The camp axes were roaring, dogs and children appeared to be alike abundant and alike noisy. The whole taken together produced a singular confusion of sounds, and presented quite a novel spectacle. Next morning about daybreak we rode out through the encampment in a northeast direction, on the Batesville road. Having cleared the great swamp, and reached an undulating surface, we congratulated ourselves that the worst of the journey was behind. For some twenty-five miles our course led us over desolate pine and oak ridges, which nevertheless, formed an agreeable contrast with the sludge from which we had escaped. At noon the rain began to fall slowly, at first, but steadily. In the afternoon we came by a small company of men engaged in raising a corn-crib near to a cabin which seemed to be full, and presented no appearance of comfort, when the following conversation ensued: 10 INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL. o'clock-say four hours till daylight will be entirely gone. Can we reach the point of difficulty before dark?" "Yes, I think we can." "If we fail to get through, we shall need our dinner by to-morrow." "Well, I have a little piece of corn bread," said one. "And I have part of a sweet potato," said another. "That is as good fare as we can get here," responded a third. It was suggested, if we had to camp out, there was no means of striking fire, but perhaps other campers might have left fire on the way. The case was finally summed up thus: our time in which to reach conference is short; there is no use in staying here in the rain; come on. And onward we went, ignorant of what was before us. In a few minutes our road disappeared under water. What does this mean? Why, the Black River Swamp. 'They said last night we should cross it, but it looks worse then we expected." The sludge increased, and the horses sank more and more. Presently, while passing a bad place, Nick, better acquainted with M'Adamized turnpikes than swamps, went down till he was nearly buried alive in quicksand and water. After a long and hard struggle, he came out and brought me with him, but my heavy saddlebags were left behind in the mud. Having recovered them, we resumed the journey, but soon reached another slough, where to prevent a greater evil, I dismounted, drove the horse, and followed on foot through mud and water to the knees, by which means we made a safe crossing. But the thought of its being twenty miles to the next house, wet and cold, my boots full of water, and the night approaching, was not very cheering. It was about the last of October. The climate was supposed to be unhealthy. We had fairly entered a dismal swamp thirty-two miles wide, and in consequence of heavy rains, unusually full of water. Instead of traveling five miles an hour, as we had expected, our horses were unable to make three. The beaten track was the least dangerous, as it always is over quicksand; but for miles together it was wholly under water, varying in depth from six inches to three feet, and the bottom little more than a continuous quagmire, as deep as the horses could struggle through. While daylight lasted, we could follow the trace by the old blazes on the sides of the trees; but night closed in upon us long before we reached the main point of difficulty, and the rain still increasing. We lost the track, our feet dragged through brushwood, and the morass shook beneath us; but giving the affrighted horses loose rein, they returned to it. Again we took the wrong direction, and went plunging through water and alder bushes, in danger every moment of being engulfed in quicksand, but after sometime, found our road once more. A conference was then called to discuss the question, "Shall we give it up, or try to proceed?" It was a solemn conference; and though darkness and storm prevailed without, order and peace were maintained within. The sum of our conversation was briefly this: to stay here all night, wet, cold and hungry, without shelter, without fire, or a foot of dry ground on which to stand, is perilous: to proceed was only perilous; and the conclusion was, to try it again. After losing and regaining the beaten way a third time, at last coming to a bank of sand, and then a rapid descent of some feet to a sheet of deep water, we inferred that we were at the margin of the much-dreaded Bayou De View. The bill of direction was, to enter near a large tree, bear up to the point of an island, then forming an angle downward, steer for a projecting log on the opposite shore. But, alas! under the lofty trees and lowering clouds, the darkness was such that we could not see the animals on which we rode. What was to be done? To encounter the turbid stream at random was bordering on presumption; to wait for daylight, when the stream was rising, was discouraging, and might defeat our whole enterprise. As it was a case in which life might be involved, a regular vote was taken, by calling the roll, and it was unanimous in favor of going ahead. It was also agreed that I should be commander. The line was promptly formed as follows: brother Randle, having a steady horse, and being a light rider, was to lead off, brother Simmons second, the writer third, and brother Duncan was to bring up the rear. It was further ordered to keep two rods apart, so that if we struck a swim, every man might have sea-room, and a chance for life. "All ready?" "Yes." "Proceed. Cry soundings." "Knee deep-up to the girt-midsides-steady-over the withers, but still feel bottom-more shallow now. Here is the point of the island." Very well. Now form an angle to the left-down stream is easy." The latter channel was no deeper than the former, and all made safe landing. Thanks to kind Providence! Our next direction was, to leave the old trace here, turn down the bayou some distance without any road, so as to intersect a new way, which had been recently cut out, starting from a point lower down. Between the ford and the new way we tore through brushwood, leaped over logs, and plunged into sloughs, at the risk of our limbs, but finally reached the road, when our horses gladly resumed the proper course. It was, to our great mortification, soon ascertained that the new way was more miry than the old. As we could see nothing, our quadrupeds had all the credit for keeping the road. Presently brother Randle's horse was heard plunging at a fearful rate for sometime, when he announced a very dangerous place, "water up to midsides, and the bottom very boggy." Brother Simmons next put in, and was glad when he got out. He advised me to veer to the left it might be better, and he thought could be no worse. It proved to be unfortunate advice, as it threw me on to a heap of logs, that had been rolled in to fill up a deep and dangerous bog, but which were then all afloat. Nick had a terrible scuffle over IDEA OF CREATION AND SALVATION. 11 them. Once his foot hung fast, twice the water had endured a hard and hazardous campaign together, In this narrative there is not a particle of fiction, nothing thrown in to fill up a chasm, but much omitted to shorten the article. Every man who adventured himself into that swamp in the condition it was then in, did it at his peril. Had I been offered one thousand dollars to retrace my steps, it would have been no temptation. Only for reliance on the providence of God, I should have despaired of getting safely out. In all the course of my life I have seldom, if ever, felt such a spirit of prayer and en Why la! me, I wouldn't turn offjoyed such a power of faith in God, as I did during the perils of that, to me, memorable night. How we were to be delivered, I did not know, nor feel concerned to know, but felt the most unshaken confidence that God in his own way would bring us safely through. And after obtaining that confidence, I felt more of the spirit of rejoicing than is usual for me, even under more favorable circumstances. Such was the beginning of my first regular tour on what is sometimes called "the big circuit;" but I am happy to add, it was not a fair specimen of my journeyings, even in that new country. After reaching solid ground, and obtaining lodgings, our first concern was to unpack our clothes, books, and papers, and dry them. This done, we preached, exhorted, and held prayer meeting in the village of Litchfield, where the inhabitants received us kindly, and requested regular preaching, which was of course provided for them. Our little party felt toward each other like a band of patriot soldiers, who IDEA OF CREATION AND SALVATION. BY A MUTE. His In the following correspondence, we present one of the finest examples of the triumph of modern science and humanity ever published. It will both interest and instruct many of our readers. They will here see what modern enter. prise, guided and impelled by the genius of Christianity, has done and is doing for the suffering members of the race. tory gives no evidence that any one of our existing institu tions of benevolence by which such an amount of human misery is alleviated or removed, was ever known to the most enlightened nations of antiquity. Prior to the coming of our Lord, natural blindness, deafness, and all the ordinary forms of inherited disease, were supposed to be so many monuments of the particular sinfulness of parents and their posterity; and, consequently, those most in need of the warm charities of our nature, were most abandoned to their helpless agony. Jesus, in due time, came. From him the world learned the lesson, that neither the sufferer nor his parents had necessarily committed particular sins; but that the glory of God was to be manifested, in raising these unfortunate beings to the highest degree of happiness, which they may be prepared to appreciate and enjoy. What Jesus did by miracle, modern Christianity is endeavoring to imitate, as far as possible, by scientific zeal and Christian enterprise.-ED. But German township, July 1, 1846. DEAR SARAH JANE,-I have just read a copy of your letter to A. F., Esq. It would afford me great pleasure to have a copy of that containing your 12 SOMETHING SINGULAR. and other books. But I did not know who and what they were. When papa took me to Philadelphia, at eleven years of age, and left me amongst strange views upon the questions following: 1. Your feelings and views, prior to your education, relative to creation, salvation, and the great Author of both. 2. What they are now relative to the same things,pupils, I did not know that they were all deaf and and, as nearly as you can, give the contrast, and you will place under lasting obligations your sincere friend and brother in Christ Jesus. MISS SARAH JANE CORE. H. CLAY DEAN. A. F., Esq.,—I received your friendly letter from Doylestown, Ohio, of the 12th of November last. In answer, I can say, I have some recollection of your teaching school at our school-house before I went to Philadelphia. But many and strange things have since occupied my mind; for, as you are aware, I am one of those people who are bereft of hearing, and, consequently, of speech. "Even so, heavenly Father, it seemed good in thy sight!" But my lot was mercifully cast in an age of education and Christian enterprise, and I might almost say of miracles. I can now understand what the inspired prophet Isaiah foretold, when he said, "The ears of the deaf shall be opened, and the tongue of the dumb shall sing." But I will endeavor to answer your questions. 1. What my views were before I was educated. I answer, they were so mixed and confused it is hard to relate them. Could you talk to me by signs, I could better make you understand. The mute is often at a loss for words. dumb as well as myself. Nor did I know that they had names. I was much surprised when I was taught I had a name, and that it was Sarah Jane Core. I often looked for my papa or friends to come back, but I saw none of them for nearly six years. When papa came I did not know him, nor did he know me. I was sorry to leave my teachers and companions, but wanted to see mother, brothers, and sisters. But when I came home, it all looked strange. I soon wanted to go back, for the teachers and pupils were all so kind to me, and they could talk to me. When Sabbath came, I was so sorry that I could not meet with them in the chapel room, and see Mr. Hutton, the principal, explain the Scriptures. I go to church here, but not with the same satisfaction. I look on Christians here as highly favored. I compare them going to church to some fine vessel sailing up the Delaware under a pleasant gale and near to port, while I, in my little bark, am humbly sailing after. I know when I get to church, I cannot hear what others do, but I can read it is the place where God records his name, and meets with his people to bless them. 2. If any change has taken place in my mind, what produced it. I answer, it was light breaking in as education progressed. It was the Scripture, being read and explained, that taught me I was born in sin, and brought forth in iniquity, and that nothing but Christ and him crucified could cleanse me. II read the Bible and other good books to learn these I was ignorant of every thing except such things as I learnt the use of by the sight of the eye. I had much curiosity to look at every thing. I was very anxious to know things I could not understand. I saw my friends talking, but I saw the animals were silent and did not use their tongues as men do. was extremely anxious to see many curiosities in the sky, to which I wished to fly like a bird. But I was very much disappointed. I formed an idea that there was a great man in a beautiful chair, who had a long white beard, and was dressed in white. He was highly favored to send water from the sky through numerous little holes, that were opened and then shut by many soldiers. I was very much delighted with the moon, perceiving that it had a face like a beautiful lady that was very mild. I was very sorry to see it go down. I thought it would protect us from danger. I was always delighted with the rainbow, but did not know what it was, till I was educated, and told it was "The presence of God in symbols sublime; His vow from the flood to the exit of time." I did not know why ministers and my friends attended to worship. I thought it was a habit agreeable to them. I had no idea they were addressing a Spirit. I knew nothing about the necessity and importance of being born again. I saw Jesus Christ on the cross, and angels in the pictures of the Bible things. But I know many people do not love Christ, nor try to obey him. They go on in sin, and must perish, unless they read good books, and pray to God to pardon them-which I wish he would do now. I have endeavored to write you an answer to your letter. I grant your request to use it as you see proper, believing, as I do, no gentleman or lady will comment on a mistake in the composition of a mute. I have nothing further. SARAH JANE CORE. SOMETHING SINGULAR. THERE is a singular association of the number eighteen with the prominent incidents in the life of Napoleon. The engagement from which he assumed the consulate-that of Torlina on the river Beresina; the battles of Leipsic and of Waterloo, were all fought on the eighteenth of the month. On that day, also, his corpse was landed on St. Helena, and on the eighteenth the Belle Poule sailed with his remains for France! THE light was gradually fading in the west, and the cool breeze of evening succeeding the sultry heat of a summer day, when we directed our course to the cottage which adorns the estate of Ellerstein. There dwelt much-loved friends, of whose welfare Long had we been absent we were anxious to hear. from our own home, and, during the period, no tiOur dings had reached us of those endeared ones. path lay through a romantic valley, whose beauties we might at another time have lingered to observe, but now we bestowed hardly a thought on the picturesque scenery which surrounded us. We were longing to receive the welcome which always greeted us on our arrival at Ellerstein, and to be assured, from their own lips, that our lovely friends were in health. And fancy pictured the yet beautiful widow listening to melodious strains which the harp was wont to give, when its chords were touched by the fair hands of Alice, or her cousin Ella. Or, perhaps, they wandered together in the groves of Ellerstein, and discoursed of the better land, whither the children of the Most High are hastening. We reached the cottage. The jessamine closely twining around the pillars, yielded its fragrance to the evening air. The roses clustered as thickly as ever, the gentle zephyrs sighed through the foliage of the trees, and all seemed even lovelier than when we left Ellerstein. We entered the open door, and a painful fear that there was a cause for the stillness which reigned around, weighed heavily upon our spirits. At length, seeing a well-known domestic approaching, we were about inquiring if all was well; but, ah! the hushed fall of his footstep-the sorrowing look, told, in language not to be mistaken, that death was there. His heart was too full for words; and slowly we followed him to an apartment hallowed by sweet associations. Here we learned that, as spring gave place to summer, the gentle Ella departed to that land where "everlasting spring abides;" for consumption had made her its victim. And next Alice drooped, for grief had filled her heart, and she had sunk beneath its weight like some crushed floweret. She was lingering now on the borders of the grave, and we had come in time to say "adieu." We wept in bitterness of spirit; for all around us betokened that one had gone, and of the other it would soon be said, "She sleepeth." The harp was there, but its chords would never more give music to the touch of Alice and her cousin. The favorite flowers drooped-the open volume had not been closed since the eyes of Alice rested there; and the poor canaries forgot to sing in their loneliness. All was silence, save one Eolian harp which, with plaintive melody, seemed to say, "But yesterday thine eyes were bright As rays that fringe the early cloud; Wrapped in the winding-sheet and shroud, Shall darkly o'er thee brood the pall, While faint and low thy dirge is sung, We entered the room where Alice lay so changed, and yet so happy. A lingering beam of light glanced through the western windows, and lit the face of the dying-so soon, like that, to disappear. She had been brought hither, that she might bid farewell to nature, before her spirit winged its flight to "nature's God." And there she lay-the raven blackness of her unconfined hair contrasting strangely with the fair complexion upon which even now a death-like paleness rested. The dark eyes were lit with a strange brightness, as she gave one lingering look at hill and valley, and the long lashes drooped on the snowy cheek, as we heard her whispering, "Eye hath not seen the things which God hath prepared for those that love him." There was one kind look of recognition to those who had come to see her die-one long pressure of her mother's hand, as she bent over her in speechless agony, and the spark of life returned to its fountain. The brittle thread which bound her to earth was broken, and she soared away to immortality. Shall we see thee no more, beloved one? The sods of the valley may cover you, and for awhile ye shall rest where darkness has dominion; but the night and the darkness shall pass away, and a glorious morning shall dawn. Ye are not lost, but gone before; for the God of nature was loved as the God of salvation; and ye are safely landed on the fair shores of the celestial Eden. "Farewell! farewell! there is a morn SCANDAL is a compound word, derived from the verb to scan, or canvass, and from the verb dally, to play with. Its guise is of levity-its essence of bitterness. In its practice treacherous and deceitful, it illustrates the cat with her prey; for "She doth play, It likewise, in its effects, reminds us of the fable of the boys and the frogs, that is, "This may be sport to you, but it is death to us.” Of slander, it is the exponent and organ. |