Travels in Tennessee
Varied Experiences of a Missionary In that State
Editor Journal – It was a beautiful morning in April when we
bid the good bye and started on our second tour through West Tennessee. Three of the Elders came with us far out into
the woods to take a “last look,” as we would watch a ship laden with friends
and kindred whom we loved as it bore them from us far out upon the great ocean.
Under a large oak we [took] the offered hands and turned away, chanting
mournfully. “Blessed be the ties that bind us together.”
On the morning of the 30th, with our Bibles and a
few tracts in our pockets, we turned our faces westward. The birds were singing
sweetly in every tree and all nature seemed to partake of that spirit of
gladness that proclaim the return of spring.
Nothing of Importance
happened until we reached the Tennessee river on the
[ground] of [Mars]. The river was very high on account of the recent rains and
it was with difficulty – climbing around on rail fences, etc. – that we
succeeded in reaching the ferry. For a small sum we employed a “son of Canaan”
to set us over the river. We landed at Perryville and commenced our tour by
walking several miles. In the evening we stopped at a farm house and inquired
for the man of the house, and being informed he was in the field, we [busted]
in our umbrellas and saddle pockets – which by the way are necessary articles
to missionaries in the south – and repaired to the field, where we found our
man and introduced ourselves as “Mormon” preachers and said we had [called] to
that with him a few minutes. He remarked in a kind of “move-on” tone that he
must finish plowing to-night and started on. We stood around a few minutes
considering what would be best when our friend [relieved] us by saying “I
reckon you’d better go to the house and I’ll be there after [while]. We were only
Too Glad To Go
And notwithstanding the cloud looked threatening on the old
lady’s countenance we had a pleasant time until after breakfast next morning
when we took our departure.
At noon we stopped at a home by the wayside to get a drink.
We had a very pleasant chat for about an hour, when I suggested a small lunch
would enliven us up considerably. It was forthcoming, and feeling thankful and
happy we went in search of a Mr. Smith who we learned would perhaps allow us to
preach in his house. We found him in the field but he had no use for us, “But,”
said he, “Seth Thomas lives over there, about two miles: he’s powerful for
furriners!” We asked if he knew of any earnest seeker after truth in his neighborhood
when he replied, “No, I don’t know as I do.”
We sought out the minister and asked permission to preach in
the church and was referred to the members, and not thinking it was worth while
to hunt them all up, we journeyed on. The light was fading in the west and the
whip-poor-will had commenced its mighty song before we found a place to rest.
Our Host
Was a pleasant old gentleman, and would have liked to have
heard us preach if there had been a house suitable in the neighborhood. He
cited us two or three good homes “just ahead” and from there they were still “ahead.”
One evening we met two men on the road. Both were desirous
of hearing us preach, but could not help us get a house. We told them if we
could get a place to stay all night we would look out for a home to preach in
ourselves. “Well, Clark.” Says one “you take them home with you; you can make
them more comfortable than I can.” “I would, George, but it’s three miles and
they don’t want to walk that far.” We told him we could stand it. “And then,”
said he, “my wife is sick, too, George you take them.” “ You know I can’t
accommodate both of them, Clark, and they wouldn’t like to separate. Besides,
my wife is sick, too.”
This Kind of Talk
Lasted half an hour and put us in mind of a gentleman where
we asked for dinner one day. His wife was sick and unable to get us any. But a
glance through the window and the [unreadable] from the kitchen told me
differently. We decided we had no use for such men and left them.
We Remained In West Tennessee
about five days and tired twenty times to get to preach and
every time was answered, “there’s a good
place just ahead.” On the 7th of May we took train and crossed back
into Middle Tennessee and walked sixteen miles to the Cumberland river, eight
miles above Fort Donalson, where we hoped to find some of my relatives but were
disappointed; and hearing of a “Mormon” nine miles further north we crossed the
river and walked three miles to a place called Indian Mound, where we succeeded
in obtaining a house and left an appointment for the evening of the ninth, then
continued on to Oak Wood, a distance of six miles , where we found a Bro.
Williams who has been a member of the Church forty years, and has not seen an
elder in that time. He received us kindly and we preached in his home that
night.
On the ninth we returned to Indian Mound and preached to a
good congregation. After meeting we were just preparing to make the soft side
of a bench our bed for the night and that, too, without supper, when a young
man came in and offered us his bed. We accepted and felt confirmed in the
belief that God takes care of His servants.
We had several
meetings and raised up many friends in that vicinity and feel confident
our labors will be productive of good. On the 14th we commenced our
return journey to attend our annual conference in Wayne county, a distance of
120 miles.
Yours truly
Hagoth
Johnsonville, Tenn., May 16, 1883
To be continued next week here.
1 comment:
Tracting isn't all that different nowadays. Makes me wonder what their "door approach" was like -- we put considerable attention in my mission to share a message or give service on every contact rather than just getting the runaround. It also shows the power of working with the members -- the only success listed here was related to the reputation and assistance of a faithful member living in the community.
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