credulity, their zeal degenerates into fanaticism. I have heard a story which illustrates one portion of their character.

A wayfarer, who for many years had preached in the Northwestern Territory, after its division into States found his operations circumscribed to Indiana. Himself and family had subsisted upon the scanty pittance allowed them-barely enough to keep soul and body together. They had borne their poverty and toil without a murmur. The preacher was much beloved, tall, slender, graceful, with a winning countenance, a kindly eye, where flashed the fire of genius, a voice silvery and powerful in speech, sweet as a wind-harp in song. As the country began to settle, a large landholder, much attached to the preacher, knowing his poverty, wishes to make an expression of his grateful regard and affection. Wherefore he hundred and

presents him with a title-deed of three

twenty acres-a half section of land. The man of God goes upon his way with a glad and humble heart. Thus he has provision made for his own advancing age, and the wants of his rising family. In three months he returns; alighting at the gate, he removes the saddle-bags and begins to fumble in their capacious pockets. As he reaches the door, where stands his friendly host to welcome him, he draws out the parchment, saying—

"Here, sir, I want to give you back your titledeed."

"What's the matter?" said his friend, surprised; any flaw in it?"

"No."

"Isn't it good land?"

VALUE OF A SONG.

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"Good as any in the State."

"Sickly situation?"

"Healthy as any other.”

"Do you think I repent my gift?

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I haven't the slightest reason to doubt your generosity."

"Why don't you keep it then?"

"Well, sir," said the preacher, "you know I am very fond of singing, and there's one hymn in my book, the singing of which is one of the greatest comforts of my life. I have not been able to sing it with my whole heart since I was here. A part of it runs in this way:

"No foot of land do I possess,

No cottage in the wilderness;

A poor wayfaring man,

I lodge awhile in tents below,

And gladly wander to and fro,

Till I my Caanan gain;

There is my house and portion fair,

My treasure and my heart are there,
And my abiding home."

"Take your title-deed," he added, "I had rather sing that hymn with a clear conscience than own America."

He went his way and sang his song, confiding his family to the care of IIim who had promised, "I will be a husband to the widow, and a father to the fatherless." They never lacked nor suffered hunger. The preacher went to his home on the other side of the river long years ago. "I have been young," said the Psalmist, “but now I am old; yet have I never seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread."

These men trusted that what the kingly singer never saw, could not be seen by their contemporaries. They trusted God, and their faith was counted to them for righteousness.

Their preaching was sometimes dogmatic and polemic; but even then it was spiced with pungent, practical expostulations. They spake in the idiom of the people, they used the words of daily life. If they meant anything for you, you would be apt to find it out. They may not have been metaphysical, rhetorical, logical, oratorical, but they spake to the point. They lived in a country where men would "pick out" a squirrel's eye at a hundred yards, or drive a nail with a bullet at seventy-five. They were preaching to a people who despised ambiguity and circumlocution. Their three rules of oratory were-and they were good rules-first, never begin till you have something to say; second, say it; third, quit when you are done.

Take the following as a specimen of their predilections. It was a discourse delivered by the Rev. James Axley, familiarly known as "old Jimmy," a renowned and redoubtable preacher of East Tennessee. It was related by Hugh L. White, for many years a distinguished judge in that State, and afterwards a conspicuous member of the Federal Senate.

It was noised through the town of Jonesborough that Mr. Axley would hold forth on the morning of the ensuing Sabbath. The famous divine was a great favorite-with none more than with Judge White. At the appointed hour, the judge, in company with a large congregation, was in attendance at the house of prayer. All were hushed in expectation. Mr. Axley entered,

but with him a clerical brother, who was "put up to preach. The congregation was composed of a border population; they were disappointed; this was not the man they had come to hear, consequently there was a good deal of misbehavior. The discourse was ended, and Mr. Axley arose. It is a custom in the new country, when two or more preachers are present, for each of them to have something to say. The people opine that it is a great waste of time, to come a long distance and be put off with a short service. I have gone into church at 8 o'clock in the morning and have not come out again until 5 o'clock in the afternoon. Short administrations are the growth of thicker settlements.

Mr. Axley stood silently surveying the congregation until every eye was riveted. He then began:

"It may be a very painful duty, but it is a very solemn one, for a minister of the gospel to reprove vice, misconduct, and sin, whenever and wherever he sees it. But especially is this his duty on Sunday and at church. That is a duty I am now about to attend to.

"And now," continued the reverend speaker, pointing with his long finger in the direction indicated; "that man sitting out yonder behind the door, who got up and went out while the brother was preaching, stayed out as long as he wanted to, got his boots full of mud, came back and stamped the mud off at the door, making all the noise he could on purpose to disturb the attention of the congregation, and then took his seat; that man thinks I mean him. No wonder he does. It doesn't look as if he had been raised in the white settlements, does it, to behave that way at

meeting? Now, my friend, I'd advise you to learn better manners before you come to church next time. But I don't mean him.

"And now," again pointing at his mark, "that little girl sitting there, about half way of the house-I should judge her to be about sixteen years old-that's her with the artificial flowers on the outside of her bonnet and the inside of her bonnet; she has a breastpin on, too (they were very severe upon all superfluities of dress), she that was giggling and chattering all the time the brother was preaching, so that even the old sisters in the neighborhood couldn't hear what he was saying though they tried to. She thinks I mean her. I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart, for any parents that have raised a girl to her time of day, and haven't taught her how to behave when she comes to church. Little girl, you have disgraced your parents as well as yourself. Behave better next time, won't you? But I don't mean her.”

Directing his finger to another aim, he said, "That man sitting there, that looks as bright and pert as if he never was asleep in his life, and never expected to be, but that just as soon as the brother took his text, laid his head down on the back of the seat in front of him, went sound asleep, slept the whole time, and snored; that man thinks I mean him. My friend, don't you know the church ain't the place to sleep? If you needed rest, why didn't you stay at home, take off your clothes, and go to bed? that's the place to sleep, not church. The next time you have a chance to hear a sermon, I advise you to keep awake. But I don't mean him." Thus did he proceed, pointing out every man, woman, and child, who had in the