I had now been about ten months in the colporteur work, and seeing the great necessity for scores of men to engage in it, I thought I could raise the salaries, and employ one or two others to carry it on. I soon raised $150 to pay a man for a year, and Providence directed me to a good man to do the work. I then succeeded in finding another good man, and raising his salary; and in one month, by the Divine blessing, I raised and paid over for the support of colportage $750, and these efforts were continued till the colporteur work was extended throughout the more destitute regions in all Western Virginia.

I had made an arrangement to visit R—— county, some forty miles distant, and spend a month in colporteur labor. On my way I had to cross a river by a ferry-boat. Two travellers crossed with me. When we mounted our horses on the opposite side of the river, one of them asked me if I was going on a long journey with such a heavy load on my horse over that mountain country. I told him I had my horse loaded with religious books, and some Bibles, and that I was engaged in supplying destitute regions with the word of life, and would soon lighten my load.

“Why,” said he, “are there any families to be found without the Bible?” Yes, I told him, there were many in all parts of our country. “Well,” said he, “I don’t believe there is a family in my county without a Bible.” Said I, “What part are you from?” “From Green county, Penn.” “How far,” said I, “from the town of C——?” “Five miles,” said he.

Four weeks ago, I replied, I was there, and made an address before one of the Presbyteries of the Cumberland church, in which I spoke of the destitutions of our country and our mode of supplying them, when the Rev. Mr. H—— followed me with a speech in which he said “he believed one third of the families in C——, in which we were then assembled, were without the Bible.” Another minister present doubted it. I told them I was there to visit the town, and would begin the next morning. A good man volunteered to go with me. We spent three days at the work, and found that out of one hundred and fifty-seven families, fifty-four had no Bible.

On my way to R——, late in the evening I began to inquire for some place where I could spend the night, as the indications seemed to be that a hard night’s lodging was before me. As I inquired at each little cabin, they told me that “Parson W——,” a few miles ahead, kept lodgers. As these mountain miles are slowly measured by a tired man and horse, I did not reach “Parson W——’s” till near nine o’clock at night. When I entered his little cabin, he and his wife and granddaughter were at a supper of corn-bread and buttermilk. I asked for lodging, which was granted, and was at once invited to supper. As soon as the parson was done eating, he went and put up my horse.

On his return, I asked him if he had any pastoral charge. “Yes,” said he, “I built a church on my own land close by, and preach there every other Sunday.” We were soon engaged in a religious conversation, and my views of truth were soon tested. “Well,” said the old parson, “I thought you was a Methodist preacher, but I find I was mistaken; but I guess you are a Presbyterian, which is no better.” Finding the old man belonged to what was called the Ironsides, or rigid Antinomians, I thought it quite useless to talk to him.

Before I could get rid of him he made me tell my business. “Well,” said he, “you are going about plundering the country. It was the Bible, Tract, and Missionary Societies that broke up the country in 1837 and ’38.”

As I was tired, and proposed to go to bed, “Well,” said he, “there is a bed in that corner for you.” “As you are a preacher,” said I, “of course you have family prayer, and I would prefer waiting to join you in it.” “Ah,” said he, “every one does their own praying here.” “Is it possible,” said I, “that you are a preacher, and have no family prayer, when God has said he will pour out his fury on the families that call not on his name?” “Oh,” said he, “you may pray if you please.” Seeing an old family Bible on a shelf, I took it down, and read a part of the seventh of Matthew. I commented on the verse, “Strive to enter in at the strait gate,” etc. The moment prayer was over, he said, “I don’t believe a word you said.” I was soon in bed and asleep, being tired.

When I awoke there was a good fire, and the old man sitting beside it. I was up in a few minutes. “I am glad you are up,” said he, “as there is another point I must discuss with you.” In a few minutes I quoted proofs from the Bible too clear to be resisted; when the old woman, who was of huge dimensions, sprang out of bed in her night-dress, and presenting herself before me, said, “Don’t talk to that fellow; he is a Yankee, and he is setting traps to catch you.” The old man soon disappeared to attend to his still-house and cattle, and the old woman and granddaughter occupied the whole front of the fire, making their toilets; the old lady, in her earnest conversation, frequently using a long wooden fire-poker in close proximity to my head.

As the granddaughter was sitting near me, completing her toilet, I spoke to her about her soul, and offered her the Dairyman’s Daughter. This roused the old woman again; and the old man, returning about the same time, forbade her to touch the book. The girl cried bitterly, and said it was such a pretty book she did want it, and there was not a book except the old Bible in the house. The girl’s tears prevailed, provided I would write a receipt in it that it was paid for, which was done.

As soon as breakfast was over, and my horse ready, I asked for my bill. “One dollar,” said the old man; “I make it a rule, when any of you Yankees come this way, to fleece you as well as I can.” This man was rich; had a great distillery, and I was credibly informed would take a bottle of whiskey with him to the church, and at the close of his services tell his people what a fine run of whiskey he had just had, and to come and taste it.

About a month after, on my return home, I stopped to stay all night some few miles from there, when lo, Parson W—— had stopped to stay too; but as soon as he saw me, he ordered his horse, and left. I had told about my lodging with him; and as the laws of Virginia at that time imposed a fine of twenty dollars on any one who had no license charging for lodging, some one had told the old man that I was going to bring him before the court.