A CAMP-MEETING IN TENNESSEE.

Southland Times, Volume I, Issue 49, 28 April 1863, Page 6 (Supplement)

A CAMP- MEETING IN TENNESSEE.

(From Harper's Monthly.') An hour since I was listening to the fervid fiery Parson Brownlow, and now I am thinking not so much of his moving narration as of a former visit to Tennessee, and my first attendance at a camp-meeting held by the denomination of which the free-spoken Parson is a member. Had he only been present on this occasion, I should be less doubtful of the acceptableness of my reminiscences.

In the summer of 1856, in company with Rev. Mr. Warner, of Boston, I visited a favorite cousin, residing in Tennessee. We found him delightfully situated, with a lovely wife and interesting little daughter, who soon became my especial pet and plaything. Walter M'Connell was a man of genial, affectionate, and hopeful nature ; loved and esteemed by his equals, and fairly worshipped by his servants, who found in him a kind and considerate master — a rarer article, they seemed to think, than some Northern politicians would have us imagine. Mr. Warner was an Episcopal clergyman, and an agreeable though fastidious gentlemen. Very sensitive to variations from his established customs and ideas, he was still neither irritable nor perverse in the maintenance of his views . of right and propriety. My cousin had been his warm friend and class-mate in college, and good-na-turedly amused himself during our visit with " showing up heathendom to my very proper and reverend friend, Ned Warner."

Prominent in the sable household was a devoted, affectionate creature, originally rejoicing in the classic name of "Juno. But the heathen goddess vanished when, as Nome's nurse, she was christened by that little lady's baby lips " Mammy June." She came into the parlor one morning, her honest black face radiant and shining as the month of roses, whose namesake she was. Finding her mistress, she spoke qu : te in an ectasy, " Miss Kate, thar's a new preacher cum to the camp-meeting gwine on at Salem, an' I's jes studyin' if I can get to go dis evenin' V " "Well, June, can he preach, or is he a trifling, no-account fellow like that Jacobs?"

" No, Missus, not a natomy like Jacobs is dis yer. I heerd him las Sunday night, an' he's powerful : dats so. He tell'd us 'bout de judgment-day till I fairl? 'spected to hear Gabriel toot ebery minnit. And he telt'd ob de lake of fire, and us cumbrous timmer as what'llbe cut down, and slung in, till I jes heerd de flames a-erackhV 'mongde dead branches, and suckin* up de dry leaves. An' he done said how none ob us could hide out ob de way in dat turrible time, but whareber we's at, plum hind a mighty big rock or clar upde furdest mounting, we'll hear de Lord' 3 driber blowin' his horn, loud as thunder. Au' he'll take de whole raft ob us wid a come-quick to de Lord in glory or de debbil in hell." " Well, Mammy, you've proved him a preacher ; go as soon as you like, and do take that witch, \\ ally, along— she'll mind no one but you."

" Kate," said M'Ccnnell, " suppose we all go over this evening. It'll be a fine opportunity for Ned to cultivate another branch of thr church catholic, and Philip is already 'a wide liker.' What Bay you ?" " Oh, I go with pleasure, if the gentlemen like ; but I think, Walter, you should offer Mr. Warner another inducement — the scenery is certainly fine."

" Very, Ned, and the apostolic succession undoubted. Like Peter and his associates, these stirring preachers are mostly € unlearned and ignorant men ;' and excellent Christians are some of them ; ditto their hearers. There's Mammy ' got religion,' as she terms it, fifteen years ago at a campmeeting, and a better old soul never lived."

" I presume I cannot refuse attending any tomfoolery in the county, M'Connell, on pain of being called strait-laced Pharisee, bigoted Churchman, and the like. So I'll away to this Methodish pow-pow as soon as you please. All the more readily for the hint of a landscape given by your generous wife." "It is ten miles to the ground. We wilf drive over iv time to look around the secular department before dark, and after ten o'clock we have the finest of moons for our return."

The day was delightful, and seemed exuberantly happy in having found the very, golden mean of temperature. Our road wound about with charming indirectness, affording us a variety of prospect. Here it passed through a woodland, where great downy flakes from the tall cotton-wood were sailing slowly and leisurely down, filling the air and covering the ground with a

summer shower ofsnbwi, Soon we we're on an emerald plain bounded in the distance by lofty bills. " See that hill range, Phil !" exclaimed Warner ; " green as Vermont's own." " That chain is called Cedar Hills/ replied Mrs, M/€onnell. , "They are covered with that tree ; and here let me repeat a remark of Mammy June's lon the cedar: ' It's' the! pootiest bush yet, Missus ; 'tan't never dead.' Doesn't 'never dead' rival our phrase ever-green in poetical force ?'' We reached Salem Camp an hour before dark. This time we devoted to observations. on the secular department, as Walter called the living-place. For thirty years this had been an established camp-ground ; a place, of -annual resort for the hundreds in. attendance upon the meeting of a week's duration. In the centre of the temporary village was a long row of permanent wooden buildings, much like the horse sheds about a country meeting-house in New England. These were dwel-ling-places for many ; but the greater part of those in attendance occupied tents, which were of all shapes and colors — white being most prevalent. The humbler of these were formed of old blankets and worn bed-quilts, whose parti-colored though tattered surfaces presented quite a gay and bannei-like appearance. Suppers were in all stages of activity and preparation at this hour. Negroes and poor negrqless whites considered it a time of pressing business. Some were " toting" water from the creek or spring, others milking the cows. Here a woman took hoe-cakes from the ashes, while her neighbor placed a bacon-filled "skillet"— as they term a frying-pan — over a gipsy fire. Troops of children, equipped wit.h huge corndodgers and slices of fat pork, Wandered at will, each juvenile having at least two curs in close attendance. These little folks seemed chiefly interested in the feeding and watering of the numerous animals, which occupied a large force of negroes and " white trash." Around suburban stalls, from which liquors, tobacco, etc., were dispensed, Sat groups of men, drinking, smoking, chewing, spitting, and talking. The conversation seemed unequally divided between politics and religion ; the gifts of Elder Jones and the prospects of Buchanan. Matters of state had the ascendancy ; and more offensive imprecations Were hurled at " them devil's chil'en, the Abolitionists," than at the paternal Satan himself. Just before evening service — " night meetin'" rather—- we proceeded to the sanctum sanctorum ; and it was a noble specimen of " God's first temples, that grove of giant trees, miles from the habitation of man, on the right bank of the Cahoo — a noble stream, pronounced " a mighty pooty creek" by the natives. All undergrowth and smaller trees had been carefully removed ; none were spared but patriarchal oaks, whose cups had caaght the dew of centuries, and towering hickories, that had tossed their nuts on the graves of successive generations. Between these sylvan pillars the grass grew long and soft, and now lay in plushy mats from the trampling feet. Away up among the green-leaved arches gleamed the stars, ' like bright birds resting on the topmost boughs in their upward flight. I Blazing pine - kuots and smoking I torches, in countless numbers, made a strange glitter iv the darkness. They seemed a congregation of mammoth fireflies now dancing at sight of their imaged forms in the water below, then leaping and reaching for some passing breeze. Surrounded by troops of fitful, flickering shadows, they gave an air of grotesque beauty to the scene.

The grove was longer than wide, and several speakers' stands were erected, some rods apart, for the accommodation of the vast congregation of hearers. We stopped in the vicinity of the first we reached, although "the new preacher," Elder Jones, held forth at the stand helow. The view from here was so wildly picturesque that we cared not to exchange it for other °roupings. The long Hues of white ten lay at an enchanting distance ; beyond slept the quiet dimpled valley, dreaming of May-flowers and sheaves of gold ; guarding its slumbers stood those faraway sentinel hills, drinking the dews of the twilight and clasping the mists of the morning. The clouds stooped to kiss their green plumes, and the zephyrs wooed them lovingly, but in vain. They were faithful to the lowly valley of their first allegiance. " Ah, Cousin Kate, you were quite right. None but an artist eye located Salem Camp.''

Shortly after our arrival horns were sounded, and soon hundreds of people were pouring into the grove. Rough planks, fastened to stakes- firmly driven into the ground, afforded seats to ciich as chose them. But the greatest latitude in position and manner was allowed. Some reclined on the grass, others leaned against trees, wbile a few venturesome youngsters were perched like crows in the branches above.

The hearers comfortably arranged in their various attitudes, a white-haired yet vigorous old man commenced the services with an . eloquent prayer. Its every clause met scores of appreciative and fervent responses in all manner of twanging Amens ; ejaculations of "That's so!" "Yes, Lord!" "Send a witness!" "True as Bible," &c, accompanied by groanings insupportable. "Ned," whispered M'Connell, " which is the active voice ? "Wouldn't that style or response suit you precisely ? You'd say the Apostle's Creed backward in your bewilderment."

But Father Hill would have been quite lost without these rejoinders, and at the close of each distinct petition for the never-failing interlude.

The final Amen was followed by " The Hebrew Children"— a well-known hymn, as are all in use at night came

meetings. Hymn books andpine knots are not. made for each pther— to say nothing of a necessary, acquaintance with the invention of "Cadmusj as perfected by the printing Dutchman, on the part of the singers. . . „ ... The vast assembly rose, and all, even the boys in the trees, sung; with a will. The air was a sort of chant or . recitative, and though harsh voices joined in it, that volume of sound had a thrilling, inspiring power. Richer, fuller than any anthem from deep-toned organ rose the deep chorus of hope : " By-and-bye -we'll go and meet them, Safe in the promised land." And the hymn proceeds : " Where now is the good old Daniel ? "Where now is the good old Daniel ? Where now is the good old Daniel ? Safe in the promised land. " He went up from the den of lions, He went up from the den of lions, He went up from the den of lions, Safe to the promised land." " Rather a free grouping of incidents, M'Connell," said Warner. " I fear the Scripture worthies would hardly know if * I be I' in this rapid sequence of their life's leading events." "Yes, a terrible massacre of the unities, Ned ; and yet not so great a misrepresentation after all. But listen to the next stanza. It has a glimpse of the same spirit that prompted 'Te Deum Laudamns,' with its glowing remembrance of the glorious company of the Apostles, the goodly fellowship of the prophets, and the noble army of martyrs. This hymn, you see, is an old favorite hymn of mine. There — hark!" " Where now are the saints and martyrs ? Where now are the saints and martyrs ? Where notr are the saints and martyrs ? Safe in the promised land. " They went up through great tribulation, They went up through great tribulation, They went up through great tribulation, Safe to the promised land. " By-and-bye we'll go and meet them, By-and-bye we'll go and meet them."

"Doesn't it bring the cloud of witnesses very near ? After all, Ned, the communion of the saints if far more extended than we incline to think. 1 ' The singing concluded, Father Hill announced his text : "He that endureth to the end shall receive a crown of life."

The lapse of time, and my want of acquaintance with the local idioms, which gave the sermon a quaint raciness, disqualify me for the part of a reporter. I feel constrained to beg the good man's pardon for presenting these mutilated and detached portions of bis discourse as I recall them :

" Endureth what, bretheren ? I take it to be the eross — the cross which every geniwine sure-enough Christian must bear like his blessed Master afore him. We hain't all got the same cross — oh no ! Thar's no two jes like no more than our eyes or noses. The same pattern wouldn't fit us all ; but thar's nary rale child of God but has his cross made a purpose for him and no other. And let him love it as God's kiss ; not endure it a whinin' an' grudgin', an' a draggin'it 'long in the dust. Let him bear it proudly, as a soldier carries his gun ; and tenderly, as the lover holds the rose-bud given by his sweet-heart. " It's Christ's draft for a crown. You know how men carry drafts to the bank for gold and silver. Bime-by, in the fields of glory, you'll see stacks and stacks of golden crowns all glitterin' with jewels and shinin' with stars — and they're all crowns of life. Once on your head it will ache no more. Your hair will never turn gray. Sickness, pain, and death will be done forgot for ever and evermore — for they're all crowns of life. But though there's heaps an' heaps you must show a draft or nary a one will you get. " The Lord will say, ' Whar's your cross, stranger ?' And when you show him the battered old thing he'll answer, 1 All right ! angel, give this brother or this sister a crown.' And, bretheren, the heavier, the crookeder, the uglier the cross, jes so much brighter will be the crown. Praps 'twas a thorny cross, tearin' your flesh, and spotted with, your blood. Well, every blood drop '11 turn to a costly jewel in your crown, and will shine like the sun v, jile you dance in silver slippers above. " So you see you must endure it to the end — for thar's no possumin' thar. 'Twon't do to say that you toted it a good spell, till so mighty tired that you jes got shot of it forenenst that big hill or deep river. You'd a heap better never teched it if you don't endure clear to the end. "We can't allus know for sure sar- ; tain, bretheren, who's barine the cross in this yer world, and who's not, for it's a world of make-believes and shams. When I mind all the humbugs I've seen on this yer globe, it 'pears like it might possum the great fire at last, and 'stead o' burnin' sound and solid-like, jes roll up inter a big ball of gas and hustle off inter space. " No, bretheren, the cross-bearers ain't labeled here below, and we're sometimes mightily taken in- One goes loging and limpin' along s like 1 his back was most broke with a cross of lead, and we say, * That's a saint. Jes look at Brother B. endurin' his cross. He's 'amos' ripe for glory !' Like enough he hasn't the shadow of a cross, and is jes p ckin' around his luggage of self and sin. And here comes a sister singin' and skippin' like ready to fly, and we say, * Giddy sister A., poor thing ! I'm afeard she's nary harp nor crown above!' : And perhaps the inseein* Lord knows jes how she's endurin' a sharp cutting cross right on her heart, and in her. arms, and that she does it so gladly out of love to Him who died for her crown of life. " No, bretheren, we can't say who's cross-bearers here, without any doujbt ; and I expect, if I am ever so happy f as to reach heaven, to be completely' through-othered with the folks J shall meet and miss. Them I never t Lough

o' seem' tbar 'll<i take, me ,, by the hand and say, * How" d'ye brother Hill f and thetnT that iTreckoned-had a good title, yeirs ago, to a rnansign. t , ; in«>rruptibl : c, and whom I hopea!jtO!J|B(|^sfi&)|tled down to houßekeepin>:;nic©";ia^|;.coififi)rtable won't be thaiy'JQO^py^jj^ $iererbout. Yes, I expect t6' : be n ßUfpri'sed— but more at finding William. ; Hi11... safe landed, on the shores of glory than at any body else. I'm such a vile sinner that it will tHrbugh-other me but and out. " A crown of lifejin heaven!, Friends, if you only know'd the place you wouldn't groan about your cross. It is so exceedin' glorious that one glimpse of it struck Paul dumb, and he wrote afterward: that the language hadn't yet been made that could describe it. I tried last night, in my poor way, to give you some idea of that celestial country ; and what I said then is all true, every word— for bretheren, it's a rale Tennessee of a place. "If ye mind yer own cross yell have plenty to do without studyin' about your neighbor's cross, that's noways like yours. But thar's many a one who, in the words of Scripture, strains at another's gnat; when he could vomit a camel himself; and I'm mighty afeard some o' you'll miss goin' into heaven verselves from bein'. so busy watchiu who does get in, that the door will be shet plum-to afore you mind. Now hold on to your individual cross, every last one of ye, till ye've swapped it for a crown of life!" The congregation here sang^ a hymn, known from its chorus, which is, « O stem the storm ! ifc won't be long ; We anchor by-and-by.." Brother Brinsmade then rose for a Short exhortation, as be premised. He was so hoarse that a fulfilment of his promise seemed probable. j " Bretheren aud sisters, Ive taUed so much this week that my voice is nigh giving out. And yet I must say one word "to these poor sinners; and I will, if it immolates me on this altar. _ Aud then the good father above will give me a pair of lungs to match the tall es angel about the throne, and 1 11 shout 'Glory with the best of them. "I was glad to hear <O stem the storm!' it's a favorite hime of mine, for I was converted in a storm twenty years a»o and old. I was a wild young fellow then, and we was plum-rough dowo here If we'd a coon-skin cap, deersHn breeches, and mocassins, we was dressed up sure, and went it prime at ma ny a hoe-down. We hadn tno occasion then for gloves, pole-hats, nor broadcloch; and I reckon these yer girls ain'fc no pootier in muslins and booties than their mothers was in linsey and barefoot. „ < "Yes, T was convarted m a storm, and a right smart chance of 'em I've had since It 'pears like Satan holds a.pertikele'r spite at me, and never quits pesterin' even for a breathiu spell ; but keeps tusslin and wrestlin' with me oonstant. "And bretheren, you and I know that occasionally, if not often, I've been the under-dog in the fight. Many>the lammin' I've took from him. But when be had the best of it, and I was jes ready to give in beat, the Lord reached out the hand and I up and at him agin. And so I reckon 'twill be till I die— harricane on harricane, till I go up to glory m a regular whirlwind, and anchor by-and-bve. But so I'm sure enough thar at last, I'm noways choosey about the road, I'm my Heavenly Father's child. He may give me jes such a raising as suits him, so he'll take me home at the end. " But what will you poor sinners do that don't onsUtry to stem the storm, and makes no show of fightin Satan, but just up and crony with him, like he was an angel of light or a great gold eagle? A storm is coming worse than alUhese yer — one that will rain fire and brimstone ; and there is but one shelter for it, and that's heaven. "And a pooty fist you'll make of it knockin' and halloin' at that place, and callin on the Lord, when you never answered his call here below, but disremembered all his precepts and done forgot his reproof. Now, salvation ib plain and easy; you can build on the rock, and be sure. No account how black you are. The Lord don't mind a hair whether you're white or black, you'll all be angel color in heaven. Your Maker sets no store on your money, and don't care if you havn't one lone picayune. He don't ask for no book-laming nor eddication ; he only wants you to have the good horse-sense to obey his commandments right off. And here's one of them, « Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.' «' Now, while the bretheren and sisters sing, • We're passing away,' let all who will obey the Lord stem the storms of this life, and be safely^ landed on Canaan's shore at the great day, come up to the altar, and help us beg for mercy on their poor souls.' The scene that followed baffles description. Numbers went forward and knelt around the rude railing. All of twenty preachers, with zealous- men and women, prayed, entreated, exhorted, and shouted at once, while laboring with " the seekers," producing confusion of the first quality. These seekers were in all stages of excitement, weeping and shrieking ; tearing their hair, and springing about with violent g< tures ; wbile a few remained quiet and apparently thoughtful. Each exhbrter seemed desirous of being the loudest, and the strange medley that r : ; ched my ears was sometimes ludicrous in the extreme. From one came the exclamation, " This poor roan is agoing right to the pit of darkness !'' , ".Amen ! the Lord grant it," was screamed from another quarter. . . These exercises had been-. prolonged nearly an hour when several of th'eseekers: : "were taken with *• thoryowtrj* as -it is termed. I had never witnessed-tbis tion, and was interested by ifc to a paiafal degree. ' ', * ' One fine-looking girl,\ifith 'almost interesting countenance) I^obaenred particu-? larly., She hadseeme^fin|icjwita;agony, wildly swaying" frog». (i Ai4e to 'Bide. |_ Bufc now ishestood^stiktue-lttw: ancl»otionleaß- J i H«r- htrids were tightlr' <3«nch«dpa»d her

tress. HeTicluxutiaiCC&airr#adi«»c|ipe4 from iss faj»^ Her feet, gaye an air of classkre^ace^to^ her r ; figirce^^W'ittfJ&r paJe,'tern(P3tfacp;irr.tb«»t', : fixlid vagony r of. Jerror^nd supplication, while herraplcridiC,, .'dr^myPyes-^lich^.^ 1 1 call In4ian';suj«mer eyes^had/^af^pff': look, as if th^yi gazed .^.jthe^di;^w|]mysifs ; ; teiiea of eternity; -■.■■Shepwsa--a'^bt^o3fiyii§ r ipt a painter. HSuddeniyjiwitb. wfcpiercuff " ' sWeany, the tense muscles relaxed, 'and -sho^:^ ■'- fell to the earth in wharseemed the. silence land pallor<>o£-!d^atK,'"^iii"'lay;'Ej|e^;|ome sweet-shadowed liljr, reft .'fironi^testeoi'. Several Md' Jadies , immediately surrounded her, bending over and hemming^ her in* as if for the^ express parppse^df exc'ading any chance Dreath ofain^'FatheV Bill, too, came up, .''Thank the Lord, he's* sent » wilntec? to 1 this, yoWg sister; He^ shoWihTh,erthe ; cro^^of life ri^AllMn^ the immediate circle; jojmed Jirm;inj|i^|op^ rous handclapping '','.. .'.mai<i~Bfi&tfati'^^t&- --" Glory T' Perhaps it was th«>best resjjo^,-, ; rative, for presently 'there was a slighttremor in theprostrste figttre. Life- was- - seen timidly stealing ove^rT the coldy. rigid? face, and then, slowly -and wearily th£ eyes unclosed, still with thfa^'soul-heayyy-vision-seein?looß. ' . _. * /%■'.. p"'i '* Are you happy, siste* -I Has ,the|L«^ -, blesaed your soul' l' r v . The voice was not yet returned from,., that strange visit to the borders of >the, dark valley; and a faint, brief sraileof seraphic sweetness, gave the affirmative response. " Then praise him, beloved 1 . He'll . give/ you more grace if yon praise him. Spat your hands, sister." "'<.'■- :.; L But the soft little hands lay motionless. " Mother ; Jones; help her l praise she's stronger." - f, ,f :■; And Elder Hill went on ttf .^nouieir; " power" patient. ■ ; . Mother Jones seated herself Ton ithef . ground, pillowed the -girl's bead -in her lap, and taking the nerveless hands of her charge by the wristgj spatted theta together unremittingly. She accompanied this - exercise wirh shoutirigs, suon as I h/\d previously supposed unutterable by humans vo : ce. We remained until the young .girl was sufficiently restored lo render acknow-- ■ ledgments in her own voice, far more musical than that of Mother Jonesi

By this time the moon, in r the full beauty of herregalstate, was half-way up the heavens. Hosts of timid stars, who shrink from the stern presence of -the Day King, came thronging forth to feast their bright eyes on her lovely face. Onebolder than the rest strode to touch with her twinkling fingers the floating royal robe, woven of pure fieecj? cloudlets^and spangled with diamond dews. ■ ' By four of us that ride home was given into Memory's hand to be folded away with her sweetest recollections, My little pet, Nonie, quite exhausted with the evening's novelties, lay asleep in my arms. Cousin Kate was the first to break the silence.

*' How strange that all, tliese, diversities of faith and practice brandh from' one root, and that the living Vine ! I love to picture to myself the parting interne?? of those representatives of all Christians, Methodisis or Churchmen, Puritans or Papists, at the Last Supper with iheir Lord. And I am always thankful that Judas had gone when that last hymn was sung. I should so dislike to associate him with sacred song. How I wish we knew what were the words, and what the melody, sung by that small band in that sweet yet painful hour, and if they realised the tortured life and cruel death awaiting them beyond that closed door ! " •* I was forcibly struck, M'Connel!, by your remark on the wide communion of saints. Yes, ' the household of faith' are brethren, differing widely in non-essen-tials, yet in vital characteristics the same. Just as the race of man varies in form of life, lineaments, and complexion, and is yet one in all the great distinctive traits of humanity." " Well, Ned, live up to that, and I'll call you a Pharisee' no longer, but a true shepherd over a unit of the many flocks again to be gathered in one fold."