CHAPTER I.
HOW strange a thing is life! When a man considers his own existence; that he now is; that once he was not; that he had a being before he knew it; that his existence shall not finally cease, but continue in a world without end;--with these things in view, he will be led to say, " I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made!" If the existence of an individual is of so much importance to himself; what must that be of millions in every age, down to the day when it will be said, that "time shall be no longer!" We consider the existence of others but small; though many consider their own of vast importance to themselves, and many others. Could I now write upon myself as a creature of God; as one, in his hand, the instrument of good to others; the subject would to me be pleasing and to others profitable. In this way, the history of my life, would be to others, an account of the glory and grace of God to an individual, and an instructive lesson to all who shall come after who may /14/ doubt, or be ignorant of the grace of him who is "good to all; and whose tender mercies are over all his works."
It is my intention to give a faithful narrative of my life, and the things which have occurred, so far as my memory serves, and as the documents in my possession will enable me. I was born June 17, 1769, in the town of Lyme, county of New-London, state of Connecticut. My father's name was Stephen Smith. My mother's name before she was married, was Irene Ransom. They were both born in Lyme. My father's family were originally from England; my mother's, I have been told, were from Wales. My mother was a second wife, and was thirteen years younger than my father. she was seventeen years and six months old when she was married, and nineteen years old the month I was born, being her first child. There were two brothers and two sisters besides. One sister is dead, and my father. My mother, two brothers and sister now live in Vermont. My oldest brother is a preacher; the other a physician. Although my parents were never rich, yet they were industrious, and maintained, by their righteous lives, the honorable character of christians; the one through life, the other to this day.
My father was a baptist by profession, till one year before he died. He was baptized when nineteen years old, which was fifty years before his death. The year he died, a church was gathered in Woodstock, Vt. where he /15/ resided, which was called by the ancient name recorded in Acts xi. 26, CHRISTIANS. When confined to his house, he ordered his name recorded with the others, saying, he wished all to know that he esteemed the name of Christ above all names on earth. My mother, who was first a congregationalist, and afterwards a baptist, became a member of the same church, and to this day remains a member with the christian brethren in that town.
There are almost three years of my life, that passed away without retaining any transactions of it in my memory. Soon after I was born, my father's mother, gave me the name Elias, to bear up the name of a son that was killed in some part of the state of New-York in the French war. This name never pleased me; and I often wished my name had been some other. The spring before I was three years old, my father moved into a new house which he had built; this is still in my memory, from a particular circumstance. A little girl in the neighborhood, five years old was at play with me, and some others a few rods from the house; while at play, she wanted a case knife I called mine, which I refused to give her. Soon after my refusal, she with a stick dug a large hole in the ground; I asked her what she dug the hole for; she said, to plant my knife; adding that if I planted it, the knife would come up, and be more. This pleased me much, as I had seen beans grow, and expected that in the course of a few weeks, the knives would hang down /16/ under the leaves as thick as bean pods. She planted the knife with my consent; telling me that it would come up in a short time. Believing what she said, I waited patiently for my knife to grow, but waited in vain, and at last dug after it, thinking it better to have the old one, than to wait so long for new ones. Not finding it, I told her the knife was not there. She told me, it had fallen down through the ground into the water, and was gone. I cried aloud at my loss, and determined never to plant a knife again. At that time my reasoning powers were not strong enough to tell what had become of my knife. At last I concluded it had come up by the one that planted it; though she would never acknowledge the charge brought against her. This deception, and loss, afterwards was some benefit to me, as it made me cautious of the flatteries of those who promised me what appeared impossible for them to perform. This simple piece of my history contains two things for my readers--1. A caution to such as would deceive the ignorant. Be careful not to mislead those who are not capable of discerning between truth and error. This at first looks strange, that a child three years old should think a knife would grow. The fact is, children at first depend on what others tell them; therefore tell them the truth. How many things are believed, which are as impossible as for a case knife to grow; and believed because one older has said so. The doctrine of transubstantiation, or that the /17/ bread and wine is the very body and blood of Christ which hung on the cross, is a deception of the same kind. A child--a man believes it, because he is told so; not because he has any evidence it is so. Telling children and grown people, that a little water put on their foreheads by a minister is of great importance to the person, is the same as planting the knife; there is no fruit of either, excepting the gain to him that deceives or misleads the ignorant. 2. This gives a caution to such as do not know. If a man tells you such a thing is true, ask him for the proof, that you may act the rational part in believing what he says.
The next thing retained in my memory, is a circumstance which took place the summer following, when four years old. One evening as I stood by my father, who sat in the door, there came a bird, called (in Connecticut) Whip-poor-will, (or Whip-'o-will;) and lighted near us. Being pleased with the bird, I though nothing more was needful but to reach out my hand, and to have him at once in my possession. As I reached out my hand moderately, to take him, he flew a few feet, and stood still; this encouraged me to hope he would soon be mine. When I came near him, he flew farther than before, and as he flew farther, my desire to obtain him increased; after treating me in this manner repeatedly, he flew far from me, and rising into the air, sung such a song as taught me his liberty, and my folly in attempting to make him a captive. /18/ By this time, I had run several rods from the house, and found myself near a grove, in the dark, far from my father, in danger, as I apprehended, and to heighten my trouble, disappointed of that which I had in vain run for. My trouble and disappointment caused me to cry aloud, and return to my father, who said I had learnt, never to run after a bird that could fly, with hope of catching him, because I wished to be gratified with him at the expence of his liberty.
This little circumstance, although grievous at first, in a few years afterwards afforded me many profitable lessons, for it was the whole of a worldlings life in miniature. Something to call our own, is the first thing a child desires, and is what a man wishes for to the last of life. it would appear foolish to any man of sense, to see a little boy of four years old running with the vain hope of catching a bird with the use of his wings; such folly, and greater is daily seen, and seen among those who would be wise. This was proved to me before I was fifteen years old. There are three things which all desire--1.RICHES, 2.HONOR, 3.PLEASURE. The course which people in general take to obtain these three things, is the same as that taken to catch the bird; and multitudes, after running years for nought, and in vain, say this is not the way for true riches, lasting honor, and durable pleasure.
Honor, is another thing which many seek after in the same manner, as I endeavored to obtain the whip-'o-will. Honor signifies respect, or praise from others. Sometimes a young man thinks he shall obtain this, by gay clothing, expensive beyond his abilities; by using profane language at the beginning, or end of almost every sentence he utters; by speaking lightly of his father or mother; by treating with ridicule public worship, the bible, preachers, or those who fear God and work /20/ righteousness; by glorying in being free from superstition; and considering all real religion as a jest, fit only for the lower classes of people; by becoming a noted gambler, or shewing others how much strong drink he can use without being intoxicated. A man may think to obtain honor in this way; but such as one in this way, will never obtain what he seeks for; it will fly far from him. Such, in that course, live to see themselves sunk in disgrace, lamenting, when too late, that the object they pursued is gone far from them, while they are left in the dark, to mourn their folly in trying to obtain that which never came in the way they sought after it. Some young women think to obtain respect among their own sex, or the other, by gay attire, needless ornaments, too much talk, frequent visits to the neglect of business; by thinking it a reproach to work with their hands; by frequenting balls, and despising sobriety, and other mental female ornaments. Do they obtain honor in this way? No; it flies away forever, and they mourn at the last; retire to live unseen and almost unknown, or die with grief. A female character, when once gone, is like a broken looking-glass, which can never be made whole. Should this book fall into the hands of any of this description, or any who may think of obtaining honor in this way; remember, that whatever parade and shew women may make abroad, their real worth is known only at home. Some who are settled in life, think of obtaining honor by extravagance in dress, /21/ high living, beyond their income, and by a great appearance; remember, you will obtain respect among none but such people, and such people are fools, or they would never be pleased with such extravagant, foolish and hurtful things.
Pleasure, is another thing sought for in the same way. Thousands of men and women have become poor, wretched, miserable, blind and naked, by endeavoring to please themselves with that which is out of their reach. Solomon says, "He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man." Many seek for that which they think would please them, whether it is right or wrong, acting according to their inclination, and not according to what is duty. If duty and inclination are not in harmony, we should always follow what is duty, and though it may be disagreeable at first, it will be pleasing in the end. It is better to mourn and be comforted, than to receive our consolation first, and mourn for the last. The pleasures of sin are only for a season, and they are never real. How many have sacrificed riches and honor on the altar of sinful pleasures, and in the end been destitute of them all!
The way to obtain riches in this world, is to gather by labor, looking to God for his blessing on our labor. Honor among good men is obtained by doing to others, as you would have them do to you. Pleasure here is obtained here only in eschewing evil and following that which is good. Durable riches are obtained only by obedience to him who /22/ directs us to lay up treasure in heaven. lasting honor is only to such as honor Christ; such his Father will honor here, and hereafter. Pleasures durable, are enjoyed only by such as rejoice in God, and live to him; such shall have pleasures forevermore.
The summer I was four years old was the first of my being sent to school; what progress I made, is now unknown to me; however by the time I was six or seven years old, I could read some in the New Testament. It was a practice in that part of Connecticut, at that time, to send young children to the school three months in the summer, and three months in the winter. Boys of eleven or twelve years old generally were sent to school only in the winter. My father took much pains to have his children attend the school when they could; he may times carried me more than one mile on his back, when the snow was so deep I could not walk. Once I was chastised for being unwilling to attend school because desirous to see an uncle who came to visit us. From my first learning to read, I had a pleasure in learning. My memory was never quick, but strong to retain what I learnt. After ten years old I attended school through every winter, till the winter before I was thirteen years old. Since that time, I have been at school thirty days to learn Dilworth's grammar, ten days to learn arithmetic and eight evenings to learn music.
About this time, I began to think of myself, what I was, and how my existence came. There was a certain something that shewed me what was right, and what was wrong, and that something seemed to speak to me, and blame me for what I thought, designed, said, or did, that was wrong. Righteousness was revealed to me, though there was then no name I knew to call it by. It seemed at certain times to bring before me all ever done wrong; to shew me that I was in a dangerous situation, and that same something taught me that in some time to come, my wickedness would be brought against me. This troubled me greatly; so that often I would take my spelling-book, /24/ which had a form of prayer in it, and go to the barn, and read it with weeping, hoping that by this my sins which were committed against my parents, and others, might be forgiven. I often heard my parents speak of Christ, and as they sometimes had preaching at their house, it gave me an opportunity to hear baptist ministers pray, preach, sing and converse. Many things they said, I laid up in my memory, and retain them to this day. the things they said, as to futurity, had a deep and lasting impression on my mind, as I believed they spake the truth. I used often to listen, hoping to hear what that was that so often told me I was wrong, and seemed to blame me for it. After several years, I was told by some that it was the "light of nature." Some said it was "natural conscience;" but when I read the scripture account, I found it to be the spirit of influence of the eternal God on my mind; called by John, "The true light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world." John i. 9. This light shined in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not. I knew the light, but did not know what it was at first, nor from whence it came. Not far from this time, the northern lights were frequently seen. These greatly alarmed many of the old and young, as they thought them signs of the end of the world. Being young and ignorant, I was alarmed at that which alarmed others, supposing they knew when there was danger and when there was not. Every thing that had the appearance of /25/ danger troubled me; for the wicked are in fear when no fear is, and much more when they see themselves exposed. thunder and lightning terrified me, as I thought my life was in danger; believing if I died a sinner, ruin was certain to me. Many times before I was eight years old, I lay awake till late, thinking what would become of me, and sometimes wished I had never existed; or that I had been any thing but an accountable creature. From these things, I am certain that the Creator never neglects his creatures, till they long, and wickedly neglect him; nor are the nations left in the dark as many suppose. Light has come into the world, and men, young and old are condemned, because they love darkness rather than light. (John iii. 19) It is now plain to me what caused me to be troubled as a sinner, which was this: A clear manifestation of what was right, and a strong inclination and fixed determination for that which was wrong.
CHAPTER II
There is one circumstance which took place when I was not far from eight years old, which I think proper to mention as a part of my life, for others to be acquainted with, which shall be related according to the best of my remembrance; that is my being sprinkled, or baptised, as some call it. My father was a baptist, and did not believe in /26/ sprinkling children nor grownpeople; my mother at that time, was what was then called a new light congregationalist; and so was her mother, sister, and all her brethren, excepting one, who was a baptist preacher. some time before she had her three children sprinkled, her baptist brother came to visit her; before he left her, she asked him about having her children sprinkled; he, in a very grave manner, asked her this question, "How would you have them sprinkled?" She replied, "As other people do." "As other people do," said he, "is this all?" These questions gave her such a shock, that she said no more upon the subject to him. In consequence of this, the ceremony was omitted a year or two. Before it was done, her eldest brother came to see her, who was a strong advocate for sprinkling children. In the course of their conversation, (my father being absent,) while the three children were in the house, he said in my hearing, "sister, I wonder you do not have your children baptized, and not bring them up like heathens." She said, "your brother, you know is a baptist, and will not assist me in doing it, and so it is neglected." He told her he would assist if she would bring her children to the meeting-house; and they agreed on the time when it should be done. This troubled me not a little; though I was determined never to submit to it. In the evening my father returned from his labor, and my mother related to him what she and my uncle had agreed upon. He told her /27/ he should not forbid it, nor assist her in having the children sprinkled, though he would go to the meeting with her, and help get the children there. This was all she desired; so the matter ended at that time. The horror of the scene soon wore off, and I almost forgot that any such thing was to be done to me.
Some time after this, my mother told me on Sunday morning, that we were all going to meeting that day. This at first gave me joy, as I had an anxious desire to see my cousins who attended that meeting. Soon after, the thought of being sprinkled passed through my mind and greatly damped my joy; but concluded to go cheerfully and escape from the meeting-house, before the business came on. We were all dressed as well as circumstances in life would allow; my mother, and two younger brothers rode on an horse, and I walked with my father to the destined place, which was about three miles. My heart was filled with joy to find my relations I had so much wished to see. As soon as the forenoon meeting was done, we went into an orchard that was near, and spent the time as best pleased ourselves; till it was time to return to the afternoon meeting. when we came up to the meeting-house door, I observed a large bason of water standing before the pulpit, which gave me a terrible shock; my enquiry at once was, what is that bason there for? My cousin who was older, and had seen more of the world, said, "That is to christen /28/ children, you will be christened this afternoon." I said, no, I will not be christened, I will go home, and turned to run. He said, stop, sit with me, and when the minister comes down to do it, I will let you out. Having obtained this promise from him, I went in and sat very uneasy, watching every motion of the minister, with my hat in my hand, ready for a flight, on the shortest notice; at last he came down; at that instant my cousin touched the pew door, which opened, and I endeavored immediately to make my escape; though it was to no purpose. My uncle pursued, and soon overtook, and brought me back. I attempted in vain to escape from him; as he threatened me severely. Notwithstanding all my exertions, I was brought in front of the bason; and was so confined, hands and feet, that I was obliged to receive what they called the seal of the covenant. I felt such malice against the minister and my uncle, that had my strength been equal to my desire, we should all have been like Sampson and the Phillistines, with the house about our ears. My mother was greatly mortified at my stubbornness, and I at that which caused it. I wiped off what they called the seal, in such a manner as convinced all the spectators that the compelled was greatly enraged. My other brothers being younger, received this mark in their foreheads without making any resistance. This account of sprinkling a child by force, has a very different appearance from that recorded in the New Testament, where /29/ we read that believers in Christ voluntarily submitted to him, when buried with him in baptism, and raised to walk in newness of life. Many children have shewn the same opposition to this invention of men, which is soon to perish in the using.
The spring before I was nine years old, my father went to the east part of the town, within ten miles of New London, with his family, to live on a farm belonging to a widow. In this place he lived two years. In this part of the town I became, in a small degree, acquainted with the people called baptists, with whom my father belonged. The preacher's name was Jason Lee, a worthy, good man; and one the Lord owned abundantly as a preacher of the everlasting gospel. In the time my father lived here, there was a very great out-pouring of the spirit of God, among old and young. Elder Lee, was the first person I ever saw baptize according to the New Testament. This was the Summer I was nine years old. The circumstances of it, I well remember, which were the following: At noon, the minister and congregation walked about one mile to a large stream. The people stood on each side, appearing very solemn. I stood near where he was to baptize; and after speaking upon baptism, and praying in a devout manner, he took a young man by the hand, and led him where the water was of a sufficient depth, and standing--lifted up his eyes to heaven and said, "In obedience to the great King and head of /30/ the Church I baptize thee in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,"--and then put him gently down under the water, and, raising him out, led him to the land. As the young man walked out of the water, with a cheerful countenance, he said--"The wondering world inquire to know; why I should love my Jesus so." This fell with great weight on my mind, as I believed him happy, though I could not tell what was the cause of his happiness.
Next the minister took another younger than the first. This alarmed me, as I feared he might take me next, not knowing but he took some by force, as the other minister did. Placing myself where I though he would not take me, I viewed the whole with admiration, thinking why a young person should be willing thus to be put under the water.
This summer and the following, there was a general reformation through the town. A great number of people, young and old, were evidently converted to the Lord; and though my affections were fixed on things earthly, yet I was convinced that others had that which was as needful for me as them. The meetings this and the following summer often continued until midnight; while the exhortations and prayers of the young people took great hold of my mind, and often brought me to pray that I might be a sharer with them. These things, with the alarm of war, which we frequently heard from New-London and other parts, led me often to think of my /31/ undone situation, and to wish for that which I was unwilling to have at the loss of sinful pleasures. The aversion to religion, which I had, in consequence of being sprinkled by force, was a great hurt to my young mind; and on that account, though willing to hear, I would not say one word, when any person spake to me of the importance of a part in Christ. That same kind reprover, which taught me when only five or six years old, continued at times to reprove me of sin, righteousness and judgment, until brought to experience the washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost.
In the spring of the year, 1780, when in my eleventh year, my father hired a farm of Capt. John Robinson, in Hebron, thirty miles from Lyme; he carried his family there in April, and lived there over two years. In this time my mind was strongly inclined to sinful pleasures, though I never used bad language, nor conducted so as to be considered an example of wickedness. In this town, in the winter of 1782, I had my last schooling, excepting forty days and eight evenings in the state of Vermont. My knowledge of letters was such as to be able to read the bible some, though I did not know the meaning of a comma, semicolon, colon, period, note of interrogation, admiration, nor any other mark used in reading. These things were not then taught in country schools. My proficiency in writing was but small; arithmetic, I was entirely ignorant of, and at that time had never heard of a book /32/ called Dictionary. In the course of these two years, my mind was many times greatly alarmed, on account of the distresses of war; which I read in the newspapers, which I had never seen till then. The distress at the taking of Groton Fort, when about seventy women were made widows in one day; burning of New-London by the British, and Royalton, (Vt.) by the Indians, with the signs in the heavens, solemn preaching, which I sometimes heard, and oftentimes a sense of the uncertainty of my own life; all these things at times brought me to the borders of despair, and led me to fear that I was given over to hardness of heart, and blindness of mind. Being naturally of a bashful, timid make, I never conversed much upon any subject, with young or old. Many times I refused to go into company, because I could not think of any thing to say; and often wondered how other people could always think of so much to say as they did, when it was not in my power to do the same. It was never difficult to think of enough to meditate upon, though I had nothing to say. My final conclusion was that I had not common sense, and so the matter has stood to this day; for the same difficulty, as to common conversation has attended me till now. One thing occurred in the summer of 1781, which is worthy of notice. My father and his family generally attended a baptist meeting in Andover, about three miles from where we lived, at the house of an old man by the name of Atherton. This /33/ meeting I generally attended. In August, after I was twelve years old, we heard that a young was to preach there by the name of William Grow, from Abington, in Connecticut. My desire to hear him was very great, I walked on foot early to hear all he preached. In the forenoon he preached in the house; how he preached, I do not now remember. The assembly was so large in the afternoon, that the meeting was held in the orchard. Everything about the preacher drew my attention to him. He was young, decently dressed, had a melodious and commanding voice; his being in early life engaged in preaching Christ; having left all for him; all these things led me to admire him. I considered him the happiest man on earth, and one whom God delighted to honor. I do not now remember his text, but remember his subject, and believe shall, so long as my memory retains any thing. It was this--"The glory of Christ, as the judge of the world." His description of Christ was new to me, and glorious beyond all I had ever heard before. He described him from the manger to the cross; from the cross to the throne, and from the throne to the judgment-seat. After describing the glory of Christ in a manner to me then beyond all I had ever imagined, he said, "All over glorious is my Lord;--Must be belov'd and yet ador'd; "His worth if all the nations knew;--Sure the whole earth would love him too."
CHAPTER III.
In the spring of 1782, my father sold what property he had in Lyme, intending to purchase land in Woodstock. In April he set out for Vermont, taking my oldest brother with him. He purchased one hundred acres of land in the south part of Woodstock, made what preparation he could for the convenience of his family, and leaving my brother, /35/ returned home in June, to make ready to carry his family there before winter. Some time in the month of August of that year, we commenced the journey of one hundred and eighty miles, which we performed in thirteen days. The thought of going the journey was peculiarly pleasing to me, as I had, from my first remembrance, a constant desire to see more of the world than was in sight of my father's house. Although I was obliged to walk almost the whole way, yet my mind was so gratified in seeing new towns, large villages, elegant buildings, magnificent bridges, lofty mountains and deep vallies, that the fatigue of walking was small, compared to the pleasure these things afforded me. On Saturday, after passing through dismal swamps, ascending and descending terrible hills, where the roads seemed at first impassible, we, to our great joy, arrived at the town we set out for, which was represented to me as resembling the land of Canaan; a land of hills and vallies, flowing with milk and honey. The first part I found true, for the country appeared to be hills and vallies, and this was not an imaginary appearance, for so it remains in that part of the country, to this day.
The Monday after our arrival, I sat out from where we put up, with my father, mother, brothers and sisters, and several of the neighbors, with our goods, to go to the house we were in future to make the place of our abode. We had about two miles to go; the first mile we went without much difficulty; /36/ this brought us to the foot of an hill which we were to ascend to get to the house. A considerable part of this mile, a cart had never been. It took us till sometime in the afternoon, to cut away the logs and stumps so that the team could pass along. After many sweats and hard pulls, my father pointed us to the house, about forty rods ahead, the sight of which struck a damp on my spirits, as it appeared to me only an abode of wretchedness. After going to it and taking a general view of the house and land around, before the team came up, I determined within myself to return to Connecticut; thinking it better to be there to dig clams for my living, than to be in such a place. I was disappointed, grieved, vexed and mad, to think of living in such a place. Though I was some over thirteen years, I cried; part of the time because I was disappointed, and sometimes for madness. With this fixed determination to return, I went down to the team, and passed by the team down the steep and dismal hill as fast as possible. My father, observing my rapid course, called after me, asking me where I was going; and commanded me to return to him. I feared to disobey him and returned. He asked me where I was going; my reply was, to Connecticut. He ordered me to return. This order I obeyed, though with great reluctance, as it appeared to me better to die than be confined to such a place.
I will now give my readers a correct description of the place which was so dreadful /37/ to me. The dwelling place stood on the north side of a very large hill, half a mile from any house. Around the house, (as it was called,) there were twelve acres of land, that the trees were cut down and lay in different directions, excepting a small place where the house stood. There was no way to look, to see far, without looking up, as the trees around prevented seeing any house or cleared land, in any direction whatever. The house was made of split bass-wood logs, locked together at the corners. There was no floor to the house, nor was there any roof to it. The grass had grown up within these wooden walls, and there was one large stump in the middle of the house, which, to heighten my trouble as I though, my father said would do for a light stand. We made a fire by the side of a log; cooked some dinner, and let our horse eat down the grass in the house, before we prepared it for a lodging place for a night. My father had prepared boards for a chamber floor, and shingles for the roof; but had not time to put them on before he returned. The shingles consisted of brown ask bark, eight feet long, and from four to six feet wide. WE corded up our bedsteads on the ground; and before night, placed over our heads several of those large pieces of bark, and at night, without any floor but the ground, having no door, with a few pieces of bark over our heads to keep off the dew, we lay down to sleep and all rested quietly till morning. /38/ The next day, my father and several men who understood building log houses, put on a roof of bark, and split bass wood logs, (lining the edges) and laid them down for a floor. After being laid down, they were smoothed some with an adze; this was some rough, but better than none. We set up three large flat stones for jambs and the back of our fireplace, and laid an hearth in uniform with the other parts. At that time the town was new, the people but few, and in general not very rich. There was not then, to my remembrance, but two framed houses in the town; one stood on the ground now called the green, near where the court-house, jail, meeting-house and other elegant buildings now stand. The north part of the town being settled first, they were generally in better circumstances, than those in the south part. With all these things in view, each one will be convinced that we had a trying scene before us. My father sold his property in Lyme for eighty pounds, and gave an hundred for what he purchased in Woodstock. The journey took off considerable of it, so that he was left about forty pounds in debt, when he moved his family on to the land he had purchased. He sold his oxen, cart and horse to the man he bought the land of; this left us in a poor situation to clear up a farm, that could hardly be done without the strength of the ox. We endeavored to make ourselves contented in our new and poor situation. We expected a long winter and had but little provision, and the crops /39/ that year were generally short. We had two cows, and but little for them, to what they really needed. In December, my father went on foot to Lyme, two hundred miles, to obtain the remainder due for his property he sold there; which he calculated would purchase a yoke of oxen. He obtained them, and drove them home about the last of January, 1783. We rejoiced to see him and the oxen, hoping we should be able to clear our land of the heavy timber which stood or lay upon it, that in a future day we might be delivered from that want we then felt, and the greater we feared. It was with great difficulty we wintered our oxen and cows; we were obliged to fall elm and maple trees, and cut off the limbs for the cattle, the small ends of which they ate with a little hay we gave them. In this way they lived through the winter. The first snow that fell that year, was on the sixteenth day of October; it fell about twelve inches deep. This greatly alarmed us, as we had never before lived where there was much snow. This soon went off, and we had pleasant weather till the first of December. After that we never saw the ground again till the next April.
One man said, that had it not been for three things, Vermont would never have been settled. Elm and ash bark, to cover their houses; maple trees which afforded good sugar, and potatoes which afforded food for many. In the latter part of this winter, we prepared for making sugar in the woods. The /40/ weather was so mild, that we made some in February; and while making troughs with my father, I cut my foot very bad, so that he carried me home through the snow on his back, nearly half a mile, leaving the blood on the snow as we passed along. I recovered of my wound, and was able to attend to the business in about one month. This work of making sugar was very hard. The way we attended to it was this: we dug a large place in the snow, which was generally three or four feet deep in March. Here we made our fire, and hung our kettles. Near the fire place, we trod down the snow, put four small poles down in the snow, and others on the tops of them; covered them with hemlock bows; laid some straw on the snow, for our bed, and had a blanket to throw over us. We were obliged to go on snow-shoes to gather the sap which run from the trees that stood around our camp. We had a kind of yoke which we put on our shoulders, so that we could carry two pails with ease. Sometimes a limb or bush would hold the snow-shoes, which would cause a person to fall his whole length forward. I had many such advances, and sometimes had a bucket of sap on me to add to the trouble. All the fatigue of the day, hard fare, and sleep on the snow, under hemlock boughs, never injured my health, as I had been inured to hardships from early life. The quantity of sugar we made this season was so great, that we felt ourselves richly /41/ rewarded for all our hard labor, and though ourselves in a comfortable situation to what many others were.
CHAPTER IV.
After passing through the cold, and hardships of the winter; hauling our wood by hand the first of the winter; the toil in making sugar; with our exertions to keep our cattle alive; we were called to endure a loss which, at first, almost discouraged us. Early in the spring my father sold one of his cows for grain, thinking we could get through the summer with one. Soon after one was sold and gone, we found the other dead in the woods, being cast, and not able to get on her feet again. It appeared to me then that the hand of God was against us, as the milk we expected from the cow, and bread, was the chief we depended on through the summer. My father was almost discouraged, and began to think he did wrong in leaving his native land. My mother bore the loss with uncommon fortitude, telling us we should be provided for; which we found true; for the same day a friend came to see us, who had several cows, who told my father he might have one of his till he could purchase another. As soon as the snow was gone so that we could work upon the land, we began to clear off the timber, and make ready for planting and sowing. The first piece we cleared, my /42/ father fixed upon as a burying place. This he told us of in his last sickness; and when he died he was buried in the same ground he and I cleared first, on his farm.
through the summer of 1783, and '84, we had many hardships to endure, particularly for the want of provisions, which was generally scarce through the country. Through all these distressing scenes we all enjoyed uninterrupted health, excepting my mother, who appeared sometimes in a decline, though she afterwards recovered, and enjoys good health to this day. The second summer, my father carried on the tanning and currying business in the summer, and shoemaking in the winter, being business he had learned in Connecticut. Working with him, I became generally acquainted with the business; but making shoes was such a confinement to me that I was obliged to quit it without becoming master of the trade. this business helped us some to live, and get through with paying for our land. The summer I was fifteen years old, was a distressing summer to us, and many others. For many weeks before harvest, almost the whole we had for food, was a little milk thickened with flour, in the morning, and not enough of that. This was, of bread kind, we had through the day. We had a little milk to drink at night. For many days I ate my breakfast of milk thickened with flour, and went to work; by eleven o'clock my food would all be gone, and my strength with it. When I could work no longer, I /43/ used sometimes to take a basket and travel a mile or two among the raspberry bushes, eat some and bring some home for my supper, with the small portion of milk allotted me with the family. My other brothers did the same. I thought then, if we could have been supplied with a sufficiency of potatoes, it would have been rich living, compared with what we then had. There seemed no way for relief till the crops of grain were ripe; for food was not to be had in the town. I remember one time which appeared to me the most distressing of all I endured that summer. One first day of the week, we ate our usual breakfast, and went to meeting about two miles. By the time we returned home, we were very faint, and there was nothing in the house to eat, excepting some wheat bran, and the milk the cow gave at night. My brother said he could eat the bran made into a pudding; this was done, and he ate it, but I could not get it down, though very hungry and faint for the want of food, and therefore drank my milk, and retired to rest, that I might forget my poverty, and remember my wants no more till morning.
Some may think that this account is exaggerated; but my mother, brothers and many others now living in that town, can bear witness to the truth of these things. there are many who complain of hard times, and that they are hardly dealt with, when at the same time they scarcely ever knew the want of food or raiment in their whole lives; had they /44/ known of want as it has been my lot to know it, they could not complain of coarse food and raiment, and feel innocent. Through all that time, my clothing in the winter was generally think and coarse. I never owned a great coat till the winter before I was twenty years old; and I was so used to a thin dress in cold weather, that I did not know the need of one for many years. Though these hard things were grievous to be borne, yet I believe they were in the end beneficial, as I have been able to endure hard things much better than though brought up in the lap of ease. And though since called to pass through things fatiguing to the body, I have never been confined with sickness but once in forty years, and then only for a few days. In the two first years of living in Woodstock, there was no school near to attend, so that instead of learning more, I really lost some of what I had gained in Connecticut. There were some religious privileges in the town which were partially improved by me, though but little to my advantage, through my great love to this present evil world. The war being closed this year, and those tumults at an end which had so alarmed me for seven years, my mind seemed more than before attached to things that are seen. My inward thought was, that I should live here forever, and my own existence to me, seemed of ten thousand times more importance than it really was. There were several meetings held constantly in different parts of the town; the congregational people held a meeting in the /45/ south part, first in a barn, and then in a small house which they purchased for that purpose. This meeting I generally attended, as it was near. They had no steady preacher; however, they were generally supplied. Mr. Hutchinson, of Pomfret, father to Titus Hutchinson, a lawyer in Woodstock, preached there often. Mr. Damon, of the north parish, preached some, and Mr. Peletiah Chapen some. He was a good man, and solemn preacher. Sometimes they had no preacher and then they read Flavel's or Whitfield's sermons, not thinking it right to neglect meeting together because they had no preacher. Oftentimes in these meetings my mind was solemnly and powerfully wrought upon by the force of that truth which was made manifest to me. At one time Joseph Cottle read a sermon of Whitefield's on the last judgment. This greatly terrified me, as it had often before this time. The man was a good reader, and when he came to that part of the discourse, which describes the state of the wicked when the judge shall say to them "depart from me ye cursed," the preacher said, "When this sentence is passed by the judge, it will, it must be obeyed; it will be in vain for the wicked to resist; for the ground will be gone under them! and they will sink down! down! forever; lost and forever gone!" These words filled my mind with great distress, and I felt determined from that time to cease to do evil, and learn to do well; but I had not gone far from the house before other /46/ things took my attention, and the good seed sown by the way side was taken away.
Within these two years, I first saw a dictionary, but did not know at first what it was designed for. The occasion of my seeing it was this: two men had been at meeting, and heard the minister use the word canticles. One asked the other the meaning of the word; "get the dictionary, (said the other) that will tell you." He took Entick's dictionary and soon found the word with its meaning. It appeared strange to me that the word used by the minister should be in that little book. This led me to enquire into the nature of it; and how a word could be found; and was surprised when told that almost all words we used, with their meaning, could readily be found there. Some may think strange that a person fourteen or fifteen years old should be so ignorant of a book now so common. Such books were not then in common use as now; and further, every person is ignorant of that he never heard of. About all the books I had ever known to that time, were the primer, Dilworth's spelling-book, Watt's psalms and hymns, the new-testament and bible. These were about all the books my father owned, and these commonly were the library of a baptist minister in those days. Not far from the time I was fifteen years old, I first saw or knew a geography; and it was in the following manner: My uncle wished me one winter to live with him. Not long after my residence with him, he one evening handed me /47/ a book, called Guthrie's grammar, saying as he handed it, "there is a book which will be of great advantage to you, if you will take pains to read it." I received the book, and after asking him some questions, began to read it. There were some strange things in it, which appeared to me impossible, particularly things in Greenland, Lapland, Norway, and in other northern regions. It seemed to me like descriptions of another world, and another order of beings. I was surprised to think this world could be so large and contain so many countries, and people of such different nations, tongues, and languages.--These things may appear small to many; but I mention them to stir up parents to instruct their children in these things, so needful to the present life, and that they may do it in season, before their children come to an age when other things call them, so that they cannot pay that attention to learning which they wish; also these things are mentioned to encourage such as have been deprived of the advantages of education in early life; they may, notwithstanding all this, by patience and perseverance, attain to that which will be to their own benefit and make them useful to others for years to come.
While these things taught me my own ignorance, they fired me with zeal to gain useful knowledge, and with this a fixed resolution freely to instruct others, if it was ever in my power to do it. /48/ These are a few of the many things which took place in the course of fifteen years, which are to this day retained in my memory, and given here for the perusal of others.
CHAPTER V.
This chapter describes a new era in my life, and the things which have taken place since I entered my sixteenth year, are, of all, the most important to me. At this period, I became quite uneasy with my situation, knowing my ignorance and considering the disadvantages I labored under, by living where there was no school to attend, and being obliged to work very hard, with the rest of the family, in a new country, where many of the comforts of life were scarce, and could not be obtained but by hard, and almost constant labor. In the winter of my sixteenth year, (1785,) several of the people near where the south meeting-house now stands, agreed with my uncle (Elisha Ransom,) a baptist minister, to teach their children that winter. This was two miles from my father's house. I had a great desire to attend the school, as he was a man remarkably qualified for that business. My desire being very great to go, my father consented that I should attend one month. This I considered a great privilege indeed; and the first Monday in January, 1785, I was, to my great joy, received as a member of the school, where I expected in one month /49/ to acquire much useful information. My uncle examined me as to the knowledge of letters, and found, as he termed it, that I had been taught in the old Connecticut fashion, and said, "you must learn grammar."--This was new business to me. he gave me a lesson from Dilworth, which I entered upon with zeal, determining to learn what was the most useful.
On my return home, I informed my father of the study I had entered upon. He was not at all pleased with it; and told me, arithmetic was much more useful, as I could read some, and was entirely ignorant of the use of figures. This greatly damped my zeal, as he almost forbid my pursuing the study of grammar. The next day I told my uncle the opposition in my way. He said, you must learn it; this will be of advantage to you in reading, speaking and writing. He added, I will go and see your father this evening; this he did, to my great satisfaction. My father raised every argument in his possession against the grammar, and in favor of arithmetic. My uncle on the other hand plead for me, telling my father if his son was ever called into public life, this science would be of vast importance to him. Ah, said he, that he nor I may never calculate upon. To which my uncle replied, "you do not know what he may be." Finally, my father talked, my uncle argued, my mother joined her brother, and I wept; and all this turned the scale, so that my father said to me, you may do as you please. This /50/last sentence, led my uncle to say, "you now consent to that which will be worth more to your child than all your farm." All this was highly gratifying to me, and I pulled my book out of my pocket, taking fresh courage to learn what grammar meant.
My long walk every day, soon led me to see the disadvantage I was under by spending so much time in going and returning from the school. This I endeavored to remedy by reading, and committing my lesson to memory, as I passed and repassed from school. A way soon was opened to be relieved from this difficulty. One of the representatives of the town, invited me to stay at his house while he attended court, offering me my board it I would attend to his cattle, &c. in his absence. This invitation I gladly embraced, as it was near the school. There was no light allowed me in the night, excepting the light of the fire. This I improved to the best advantage. Oftentimes I laid my book on the hearth or floor, and lay down to get the small light the wood afforded me. This was a hard way of gaining light from the fire, and knowledge from my book; but as this was the only way for me, I persevered in it for some time. Continuance in this practice injured my eyes very much in a short time; though before this my eyes were uncommonly strong. In the course of the month of January, I had committed the greater part of Dilworth's grammar to memory, though my eyes, by reading without a candle were much injured. I had at the close of /51/ the month, committed so much to memory, that it appeared to me that my memory could not contain much more, not knowing then that ignorance was what filled men's heads, and not knowledge. At the close of the month, when I left the school, my uncle encouraged me to pursue my studies, promising to assist me all in his power, which promise he faithfully performed; and I am to this day more indebted to him for the knowledge of letters than all other men on earth. Close application to study by fire light, after leaving the school, weakened my eyes, so that in the end I was obliged wholly to quit reading for some time.
Not far from the time of leaving the school, a man by the name of Jason Smith, proposed to teach music one month, two evenings in each week, in the same neighborhood. Having a great desire to understand that pleasing science, I engaged with others to attend the school. Though my eyes had become quite weak, yet I undertook to commit to memory the part necessary to understand; and in a short time, could repeat the whole correctly. in the eight evenings we attended, I acquired some knowledge of the art, so that in a short time after, I could sing a little by the rule laid down by Andrew Law. After the school was done, I paid close attention to the rules of music, till I supposed my understanding was informed as to the meaning of Mr. Law had laid down. By this time my eyes were so weak, that I could not look in a book in the evening, and it was painful to me to read in the day /52/ time. Many though I should be wholly blind, before many months. This was very distressing to me, especially when I thought of being shut from the living while among them. The pleasure of thinking myself in possession of so much knowledge of grammar and music, as I supposed was in my possession, soon vanished, when thinking blindness might happen to me as the consequence. Every thing was done to help my eyes that was thought useful, but all to no purpose.
While troubled with the thought that I might lose my sight, a circumstance took place in the town, which caused me to fear a greater loss, that was the loss of life. The inhabitants of Woodstock had for several years been remarkably healthy; and though there had been in former years, great and general revivals of religion in different parts of the town, yet at this time, there was a great inattention to the things of God, and things which concerned the peace of old and young. Those who professed to be born of God, appeared to have but little concern for those lived without God in the world. this encouraged me and others of my age to go on in sin, thinking if you present danger was great, good people would warn us of our danger. In the month of March, a disorder began to prevail in Hartland and the south part of Woodstock, called the canker-rash. One young man, about eighteen years old, in Hartland, by the name of Slaton, was violently seized with this alarming disorder, and in a few days all hope /53/ of his life was gone. Not long before he died, his father came into the room; his son said, "father what do you think of my situation?" His father with tears replied, "my son, you are now dying." He said, "do you think I am?" "Yes," said his father. " Then (said he) if it is so, I am undone to all eternity; O, how can I die without Christ; I am undone! undone, forever!" He uttered these words and died immediately. The news of his death, and what he said to his father, was like a fire, and spread alarm wherever it came. The disorder alarmed the youth, thinking they too might die suddenly; his saying he was undone, led others to think they also were undone. There was never any tidings that took such hold of me, as this concerning one I had intimately acquainted with. All faces seemed, for a while, to gather paleness, and many began to say, what shall we do? My old determinations to live differently, began to revive, and, for a time, I felt determined to forsake the foolish and live, and go in the way of understanding; these resolutions were but momentary. But a few days after this young man was buried, the disorder prevailed in the neighborhood where I had attended the schools. There was a man lived there by the name of Jonathan Wood. He and his family were much esteemed by all who knew them. He had three daughters grown up; the eldest of the three was married, and lived in the house with her father. Several of the young people, who either had /54/ not been alarmed by the death of the young man in another town, or had lost the impression his death had made, thinking the disorder would not prevail among them, appointed a ball in the neighborhood on Monday evening. In the afternoon of the day, I saw Mr. Wood's two youngest daughters carried in a sleigh to the ball; the next Wednesday or Thursday his daughter that was married, died of the canker-rash. The other two were taken about the same time, and died on Saturday. Sunday afternoon, I saw the same sleigh, horses, and driver, and the two sisters, in two coffins, carried to the grave, that I saw carried to the ball the Monday before. This to me and many others, was an alarming sight; especially to see them buried. By the side of the grave stood a sorrowful father and mother, who, the day before, had seen an amiable daughter laid in the grave, near where they then stood. Now the stroke is doubled. Two amiable daughters, in the morning of life, torn from them at once, to increase the grief caused by the death of the first. These done with changes here; their house left unto them desolate, while they were bereaved of their children. While standing thus by the side of the grave, every countenance appeared solemn. One man, (Daniel Ralph,) spoke and said, "We read in the scriptures, that by the mouth of two or three witnesses, every word shall be established; and here, (said he,) are two witnesses that prove that all men are mortal, and that life is always uncertain." /55/ These words, connected with what was before me, were like thunder in my ears. After the two sisters were buried, the father, almost overcome, spoke to the people and said, "My friends, I give you thanks for your kindness in burying these two dead bodies." As he spake the last word, he burst into tears, which with the solemn deaths, caused a general weeping and sobbing through a large assembly, met to attend the two sisters to the grave. The mourning seemed like that when Joseph, his brethren, and the Egyptians wept over the grave of Jacob. This circumstance caused me to weep; but I felt a greater cause of weeping than this, which was my own danger; as it appeared to me that my turn would certainly come next, as I had turned a deaf ear to so many calls and warnings; and I believed, if I was cut down with that disorder, it would be just for me to die.
While returning home from the grave, how small my earthly prospects appeared! and as for prospects heavenly, I had none. That day, I made a solemn promise, that if the Lord would spare my life, I would never again rebel against his spirit, as heretofore. This promise I in some measure kept, until God manifested his pardoning mercy to me through his Son, Christ Jesus our Lord. The evening after was spent in a manner profitable to us all. My parents faithfully told us of the danger we were in, mentioning that it was altogether likely some of us before one week would be laid in the grave. This I /56/ awfully feared. My father read the scriptures to us, and prayed with and for us, in a fervent and affectionate manner. My mind was greatly distressed by considering myself a sinner, justly condemned to die. not long after this, as I was in the woods at work alone, my situation appeared to be shewn me by the spirit of truth, as I now believe. The iniquity of my heels overtook me, and I appeared full of the sins of my youth. This place was fulfilled in me, "I will reprove thee, and set they sins in order before thee." The day appeared dark, and every thing seemed to mourn around me. This was the situation I though myself in; guilty before God, and guilty of crimes of the deepest dye. Every wrong ever committed, whether in though, word, or deed, appeared before me, and things which before appeared small, now rose like mountains between me and my Creator. It appeared to me that I was a criminal deserving death, without one plea in his own behalf. I said, O that I had not sinned, but I have, and now it is too late! Notwithstanding all I had heard of Christ, I was ignorant of forgiveness through him. My situation seemed like that of a murderer, who laments that he has deprived an innocent man of life; wishes he had not done it; is sorry for it, and says, if I had not done it, I should now be clear; but it is done; the law says such shall die; the law is just, and if justice takes place, death is my portion. So it was /57/ with me, I saw no way that God could be just, unless I was cast off forever. I knew he was just, and would ever so remain, and this conclusion followed: I have sinned against a God that is holy, just and good; for this I am now condemned to die, and as certain as I now exist, so certain it is that I must be lost forever; there is no hope for me. I am gone and gone forever; and at that time, I as much expected to be forever lost, as though a voice from heaven had then said, "depart from me ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." This led me to say, O that I had never been born, or that I had been any thing but an accountable creature! No one can tell the distress I felt, unless they have felt the same. While in this distressing situation, I stood on a log with my ax for the purpose of cutting it off. A thought passed through my mind to step down on the ground and pray; then another thought arose, I am lost forever, and it is in vain to pray, and I had been taught that God would not hear sinners, and that it would be useless to pray; however, my distress was so great that I kneeled down on the ground, but could not say one word, and after remaining some time in that position, I rose and thought of trying to work again, though it seemed in vain for one condemned to die, to do any work for himself or others.
Though I had no real peace, yet my mind seemed a little relieved from the dreadful distress it had been in. I began to think of the /58/ doctrine I had been taught; "That God had from all eternity elected some to eternal life;" and though if that doctrine is true, I am unavoidably safe, or in danger because God made me for that end; and I recollected that the catechism said, "the decrees of God are his eternal purpose, whereby for his own glory he has foreordained whatsoever comes to pass." This seemed a momentary, though not a rational relief. I thought thus: if God has designed some for salvation, and some for damnation, how can I be sentenced to die for that which God decreed I should do? These things did not stay long with me, as they came at a time when the spirit of God shewed me that I must bear my own iniquity, unless pardoned. Soon after this, I endeavored to make my baptism, which had been forced upon me, a refuge. I thought of several people who were considered converted people, who had been sprinkled in infancy; and though I did not believe sprinkling saved any, yet thought whether such were not more likely to be converted, than those who were not sprinkled; and from this began to hope I might yet find mercy with God.
Not long after these things passed through my mind, I went into the
woods one morning after a stick of timber; after taking it on my shoulder
to bring it to the house, as I walked along on large log that lay above
the snow, my foot slipped and I fell partly under the log, the timber fell
one end on the log and the other on the snow, and held me, as that I
/59/
found it difficult at first to rise from the situation I was then in. While
in this situation, a light appeared to shine from heaven, not only into
my head, but into my heart. This was something very strange to me, and
what I had never experienced before. My mind seemed to rise in that light
to the throne of God and the Lamb, and while thus gloriously led, what
appeared to my understanding was expressed in Rev. xiv. 1. "And I
looked, and, lo, a Lamb stood on the mount Sion, and with him an hundred
forty and four thousand, having his Father's name written in their foreheads."
The Lamb once slain appeared to my understanding, and while viewing him,
I felt such love to him as I never felt to any thing earthly. My mind was
calm and t peace with God through the Lamb of God, that taketh away the
sin of the world. The view of the Lamb on mount Sion gave my joy unspeakable
and full of glory. It is not possible for me to tell how long I remained
in that situation, as every thing earthly was gone from me for some time.
After admiring the glory of the Lamb for some time, I began to think of
the situation my body was in, and rose up to return home. Looking around
me, every object was changed, and a bright glory appeared on every thing
around me. All things praised God with me. As I went towards the house,
this thought came into my mind, "why do I feel so different from what
I did a short time past; I an unspeakably happy and shall never see trouble
again." As I walked along,
/60/ these lines came into my mind, and
appeared peculiarly pleasing:
Come we who love the Lord,--And let our joys be known;
"Join in a song with sweet accord,---And thus surround the throne;
"Let sorrows of the mind,--Be banish'd from the place;
"Religion never was design'd--To make our pleasures less."
I sung the words in a tune called Little-Marlborough, and sung them
with such pleasure as was never known by men before. This thought passed
through my mind: "Surely religion was never designed to lessen our
pleasures, for I never before knew real happiness. While about my work,
there was a pleasure enjoyed, in viewing the works of God around me, and
in meditating on the things of God and Christ. Notwithstanding all these
things, I did not then think that what I had received, was regeneration,
or passing from death to life. Regeneration appeared to me something else;
for regeneration had been imagined before, and I had concluded how I should
feel, if it should ever be experienced by me. What I experienced this day,
appeared to me something else, as it came in an unthought of way, and was
something wholly unknown to me till that day.