our orphanage, we were found making preparations to leave our dear old home, with all the fond ties that clustered around that lovely spot.

My brother having purchased a home in Brownsville, West Tennessee, which was at that time a new part of the State, land being cheap, with other great inducements, we moved to that part of the country. Several of our neighbors had already located there, and many followed soon after-among whom were Peter Rogers, William Moore, William Harding and Esquire Purtle, all of Wilson county.

Soon after our mother's death, my second and third brothers left home in order to learn a trade, preferring it to farming. Again the family circle must be broken, perhaps never to be again united. How sad was that separation! Young as I was, it was almost insufferable to see my two brothers leave the once parental fireside to battle with the cold and indifferent world, and seek a home among strangers. They had been my playmates; and as comforters in part, since my mother's death, deeply I deplored their departure, and that parting has never been erased from my memory. But such is life. The swift wings of time. hurry us on from event to event, and from scene to scene, and when we arrive at mature age, we can look back upon the past with wonder and surprise at the many trying and heart rending scenes we have passed through, and yet we live; but God in his infinite wisdom and mercy "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and suffers us not to be tempted and tried beyond that which we are able to bear-giving unmistakable evidence that as our days may demand, His strength will ever be.

In February, 1828, my oldest and yougest brothers, with my sister and myself, bade farewell to loved neighbors and home; my native land, the home of my childhood; the graves of my beloved parents and a beloved brother, together with many much esteemed associates and neigh

bors. We embarked in a flatboat, which my brother had fitted out for the occasion, it being the usual mode of emigrating on water in those early days. We quietly glided down the proud old Cumberland into the Ohio, from thence into the father of waters, the Mississippi, to the mouth of the Hatchie; up its narrow crooked channel we continued our navigation, by means of hooks and poles-rather an odd way of travelling, when contrasted with the magnificent steamers in use at the present time. But the flat and keel boats of those days were made comfortable; in them, families could be pleasantly quartered. A slow way of travelling, it is true, yet the beautiful scenery that everywhere met the eye along the banks of those rivers, at that time, served, in a great degree, to dispel the monotony of slow travelling.

I being young, and naturally fond of the beauties of nature, enjoyed the perilous trip with pleasure, not being aware of the many dangers that hourly surrounded us. I usually took my knitting and repaired to the deck of the boat, where my youngest brother was acting as pilot and steersman. There I would sit for hours knitting and singing, while my eyes would feast upon the beautiful scenery that was constantly presented to the view.

Not unfrequently would landscapes remind us of the dear old spot we had so recently left and we did not forget our brother, whom we so sadly left behind in the city, or village of Nashville. We would often count the years that would elapse before his apprenticeship would expire, and he be free again, and come to our embrace. Four years seemed to us a long time. Oft our hearts would become impatient in contemplating the "tardy movings of the wheels of time." But, every bitter has its sweet, as Esop has said in one of his fables, which has often cheered my drooping spirits. When sad at the recollection of the absent brother left behind, my heart

would become elated in the anticipation of again meeting another fond brother, who had preceded us one year to our new home, anxiously awaiting our arrival.

Hatchie river, at that time, was scarcely navigable even by the boats that then plyed that stream. A steamer had never been known to venture up its narrow confines until February, 1828. On a beautiful day of that month, while efforts were being made to extricate our little craft, which was fast upon a log, and which seemed almost impossible to move, to our great joy and surprise a beautiful little steamer bearing the apellation of Rover, came puffing and darting around a bend of the river. We all were delighted in seeing it, and were proud to know we had the pleasure of seeing the first steamboat that ever plowed the waters of Hatchie river.

Great was the sensation manifested by the inhabitants of Brownsville and vicinity, on its landing. A banquet was prepared in honor of the captain and the ladies that were aboard; a grand reception was also given them by the citizens of Brownsville, which was then but a little village, but now is quite a city. No doubt some of the old inhabitants are yet living, who remember the foregoing incidents. We were four weeks making our way up the narrow stream, and, notwithstanding our pleasure while on the voyage, I was glad when we reached the place of our destination, and was no less delighted at the prospect of living in town, altogether a new feature in my life.

The associations I formed, in the short space of time I lived there, were very pleasant and lasting in memory.

Brownsville at that time afforded a very good school, two hotels, three dry good stores, one tailor shop, three doctors, one blacksmith shop and one grocery, I believe. Major Hiram Bradford and brother kept what was called the Western Hotel and a dry good store, Steel and Patton a dry good store, and Esquire Bray a hotel. Drs. Johnson, Barber and Bruce were our practicing physicians.

I spent two years in that pleasant little village, and truly they were the happiest days of my childhood. After losing my mother, my schoolmates were ever kind to me, and manifested respect for my crippled condition, which greatly endeared them to me.

It is pleasant to forget the trials of riper years, and recur to our school-girl days, when the boys played the beau, and the girls mimicked the belle; when each had their special companion, and all was revelry and happiness upon the "old play ground."

Who, that recollects the happy days of youth, does not feel a desire to be a child again? Is there a person in all christendom who does not refer to school days as the happiest in life-when trouble and care seemed to be a stranger?

We remember our teachers, fondly, who were Mrs. Russel and Alfred Hume; the father of the latter then presided over the Female Institute at Nashville. They were very efficient and careful in their instructions to me, manifesting sympathy for my misfortune-I being quite sensitive to the manifestations of others towards me, therefore, kind treatment was a balm to my heart. And when I thought I discovered an indication of slight, or heard a seeming taunt relative to my condition, it would sting me to the very quick, and cause me to shed many bitter tears.

The reader will pardon me for reverting back beyond the period detailed in the foregoing pages.

In the spring of 1827, my eldest brother said to me"Pet"-for by that name he was wont to call me"do you want to go to school?”

"O, yes, very much, will you send me?"

response,

was my

"Yes," said he, "but I fear you cannot walk two miles."

"O, yes I can, Tommy, when will you send me?"

"On Monday, if you think you can stand the walk." Very impatiently I waited for Monday to roll round; it came at last, and with a light step and heart I went to work assisting my sister in fitting me out for the happiest event of my young life. Soon all things were ready, and with my three youngest brothers I was on my march. to the Old Academy, situated on or near the road leading from Murfreesboro to Lebanon, in Wilson county.

Almost forgetting my inefficiency in locomotion, I journeyed on, delighted with the forest songsters, and imagining their songs far more sweet and charming that morning than ever before. In fact everything seemed to me to have donned its most charming garb.

At length we came in sight of the Academy, the place where I received my first lessons in school, save what had been given me by Warren Moore, in sabbath school which I had visited a few times at Bethlehem church. I recollect distinctly my first Sabbath school ticket, which read thus: "A good name is better than precious ointment."

I have ever endeavored to profit by the teaching of those scriptural words, striving to maintain a good name and a spotless character in whatever community I may have been thrown, believing them to be the most precious jewels of earthly possessions. Here also, I received my first Sabbath school tracts: "Poor Sarah," and the "Dairyman's Daughter." To the reading of the latter, through the divine assistance of the God of the orphan, I attribute my first awakening to the knowledge of my sinful nature, and that without a change of heart I could not see God in peace.

I thank my Heavenly Father for the blessing of Sabbath schools, with all the religious tracts and periodicals pertaining thereto. Thousands, undoubtedly, with myself, can date the dawning of their salvation or conversion, to those means.