University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

Wilson's father was, as I have already mentioned, a
Virginian. I had often heard the Virginians celebrated
for their hospitality to strangers, but this was the first
opportunity within my recollection, I had, of deciding.
Whether the remark be true, or otherwise, I pretend not
to say; certain it is that old Mr. Wilson received me
with the same cordiality and friendship with which he
received his son. I saw no difference: every demonstration
of joy, laughter, tears, and caresses, were lavished
on us, both by the father and the mother. The old gentleman
seemed to be turned of fifty, and his wife proportionably
old; he was all frolic and fun; told us old stories
and would not hesitate to sing a song. The old lady
was all chat and prattle about her geese, ducks, turkeys,
grass-walks, saving seeds, the right time of the
month to give the little negro children worm seed, until
she lost herself in a long dissertation upon the best method
of rearing calves and lambs. Often has she puzzled
me to follow her in tracing the genealogy of the hundred
leaved rose, and various other curious flowers. The
old gentleman took great pleasure in walking over his
grounds and pointing out the qualities of the different
enclosures, and that one thousand con'ills would produce
fo (four) barrels mo (more) “here than it will in Old
Virginia, ah! and tobacco here grows primer.”

He would discuss the method of rearing late and early
colts, and gave me an episode upon the pedigree of the
“sober Irishman,” the name of a celebrated horse which
he then owned. Indeed the whole of these good people's
time and talents were entirely devoted to the
amusement and accommodation of their guests. I was
charmed with this country; it was rich, indeed; it lies
in large bodies uninterrupted by hills, marshes, stones,
or any impediment. Those beautiful plains, the impenetrable
cane-breaks, the numerous smooth, flowing
streams gliding through lofty forests of beautiful timber,

formed the most delightful regions I ever beheld; and
although I have since seen countries to which this is no
comparison in point of beauty and fertility, yet it left on
my mind, impressions not easily to be eradicated. After
resting myself a week, I proposed to Wilson a ride
to Nashville to see what prospect that town afforded.—
On our way thither Wilson proposed to join me in a
store; he thought he would find little difficulty in persuading
his father to advance the money. This proposal,
though agreeable to my wishes, I informed him
“was not in my power to accede to, being almost destitute
of funds—that nine hundred and sixty-five dollars
was all the cash I could command, and four hundred of
that I owed to him, which through neglect I had not returned.”
“Dont be out of heart,” said Wilson; “the
money you speak of, I do not want, and if you cannot
lay out your money to more advantage, throw it into the
firm: you can act as clerk to my father or myself, as we
may hereafter agree—your board in the mean time will
cost you nothing; if you only double your money per annum
it is better than nothing—cheer up,” said the kind
hearted Wilson, “don't despond,” and with this conversation
we reached Nashville. Nashville was, even at
this early period, 1807, a very handsome town. It
stands on the south bank of Cumberland river, which
runs from east to west, or nearly so, at this place. Several
elegant brick buildings were erected, and amongst
the rest a handsome college, called Cumberland College!
In short such is the beauty, activity, and commerce of
this town that the whole had the appearance of magic.—
Situated as it is at such an immense distance from the
more civilized sections of the Union, as I may say, it
will yet form, at no very distant period, doubtless, a
very respectable part of it. It has a very romantic appearance,
being built upon a lofty bluff, at the base of
which the Cumberland river steals softly along.

After making a conditional bargain for a store-house
and lumber-room, and likewise for a small assortment of
goods, we returned home. Wilson had been so careful
of my feelings that he had not divulged a sentence of my
late misfortunes to his parents. I would much rather he

had done so, that I might not in any subsequent event
appear to them in the light of an impostor. Upon expressing
my objections to entering upon business in this
disguise, he said “that if it would make any difference at
all with his father, such was his generosity, that it would
tend to bias him very much in my favour.” I told
him that “whether it did or did not, I could by no
means have any concern with the proposal without this
disclosure.” It was accordingly made. The result
proved Wilson's observation respecting his father to be
as he had suggested. Old Mr. Wilson commended my
candour as the greatest evidence I could give of upright
intentions. “Keep up your spirits,” said he, “you are
young and enterprising and very capable of doing business,
and you shall never want assistance. Henry talks
of setting up a store in Nashville and taking you in as a
partner. He would be glad that I would join him. but I
care nothing about it;—I told him he should have this
year's cotton to try his luck; you can attend to the store
and he can study law the while. I suppose he's not
give that out.—I hate to pay so much money for his eddication
for nothing, and it was all his mother's doings at
first. Faith! it has cost me a good round sum, but as I
was telling you, his mother said, “Well, old msn, we
must have one great man in our family, and you know
what a great man we have had a kin to us.[1] Who knows
but that Henry may come to be President of the United
States?” “Ah, Betsey,” says I, “you are always
building castles in the air. There's William,” says I
to her, “oh, he was to marry Miss Tabb Nothingsurer.
Well, to please her I rigs up William, that's my second
son, buys him a gig and fine clothes, and like o' that,
fine servant, well, off he goes to see Miss Tabb—you'll
hear how it turned out, just as I expected—'bout a week
here comes William, looking doleful enough—might
tell as far as you could see him that he had no encouragement—I
was expecting how it would be—old woman
by, he gets out of the gig, comes in, if you had seen
how sheepish he looked, his mother all expectation.—
“Well, son, what news?” “Don't ask me about news,”
says William, “The d—I may court Miss Tabb for
me—as proud as h—ll; why she would hardly speak to
me!” “Possible!” says my wife, “a poor pretty upstart!
I can remember when her father was nothing but an overseer;
and I have heard my mother say that he had to enter
her house with his hat under his arm. I'll let her
know that my son is as good as she.” Seeing that he
paused, I asked, “if Mr. Henry Wilson still intended
to prosecute the study of the law.” “Oh, I suppose he
does, I never axed him about it since he come home.”
But as I was tellin' you, Mrs. Wilson must have a President
or Secretary of State, or some d—n nonsense.
Well, to please her, I always, Mr. Burlington, have
been a friend to the ladies and trys to please 'um. Well,
so it was, Henry was hoisted off to Princeton, and now
I suppose his—” At this part of the narrative we were
fortunately interrupted by the entrance of company; to
come to the conclusion, the old gentleman a few days afterwards,
went with us to Nashville (telling his long stories
all the way) and purchased four thousand dollars
worth of goods, paying one half down, one half of which
I advanced to him, to wit: nine hundred and fifty dollars.

And here behold me now located in Nashville, upwards
of one thousand miles distant from my sister, and the
place of my nativity. Although no one had less cause
to murmur at their destinies than I, yet the man who
could so soon forget, the man who could so soon subduc
his feelings, must possess a greater share of philosophy
than I. In the hurry and application of business or conversation,
my thoughts would often steal to Boston.—
Such was often the case, and such was the depth of those
impressions, that neither the charms of society, nor the
bustle of business could enable me to resist those intrusions.
Indeed, I found a pleasure, an exquisite pleasure,
in reflecting upon those past scenes; lest, however,
my health might be endangered by this weakness, (I presume
it was) and my sister might lose her only protector,
I strove to keep it within proper bounds. Wilson
and myself had both written to Boston upon our first arrival
in Tennessee. My sister received both letters, and

one answer only was returned. She stated that she
was well, and expressed much congratulatory pleasure
at our safe arrival and kind reception. To Wilson she
did not write; at the bottom of the letter to me, she expressed
herself thus:—“As you are brothers one letter
may suffice for both.” Whether Wilson was pleased, or
otherwise with this remark, is not in my power to say, as
by his words and gestures I could discover neither the
one nor the other. I now wrote to her again, thinking
it would be the most agreeable thing to her in the world
to hear that I was so happily situated, and had an expectation
of a speedy independance for us both. Thus I
continued to discharge my duty as a clerk, with undeviating
and unremitting attention. Wilson lived in Nashville
during the time and was very seldom out of my
company; we both boarded at the same table, and slept
in the same chamber. In this manner one year rolled
round, and my prospects wore a brighter appearance than
when I engaged in business. Had I continued in this
situation I might have escaped a world of wo! When
I reflect on the circumstances alluded to, with calm and
rational retrospection, I am more than ever convinced
that all human affairs are guided by an over-ruling
Providence, and that we are simple instruments by which
he effects his purposes. But further remarks are superfluous.—In
the course of the last year I formed an acquaintance
with a Dr T—. He was a young man of
enterprise and talents; generous and insinuating; he possessed
every endowment of mind and clegance of person;
and with those qualities he had the most daring courage.
Dr. T— spent much of his time in Nashville, during
the time I have mentioned. I was often in his company.
No wonder that I was captivated by this extraordinary
man. Though he effectually succeeded in attaching
me to his person, yet Wilson alone had his confidence;
this I have learned since. It appeared that three hundred
of those daring sons of the west, had concerted a
secret expedition to the Spanish dominions; and Wilson
was included in the number, provided he could bring
me over; if not, he would keep their secret; but would
not join them.

Every one of the number entered into a solemn engagment,
confirmed by an oath, never to divulge the nature
of the enterprize. This engagement they have
most inviolably kept, and it is probable will do so, while
they live. Every thing was settled before the subject
was imparted to me; this was Wilson's business. He
well knew he could intrust me with the secret, even
though I might disapprove the project. I was thunder-struck
at first, but by degrees, and much persuasion, in
in an evil hour I joined the party. But after this many
difficulties were to be got over. What was to become
of my sister? I could write to her that we were going
to Missouri on a hunting party, (which in fact was
true,) and that we would return in about six months.
“Well, but what shall we say to Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?”
“Tell them the same story.” All this was well.

We were to rendezvous at St. Louis, the first day of
October. Each man was to supply himself with a horse,
and as much provision as the horse could carry. Every
six were to furnish a horse laden with powder and lead,
and other indispensable necessaries. Every man must
be furnished with a rifle, a brace of pistols, a dirk, two
suits of clothes, and two blankets. These with three
small tents were to be put on other horses. These were
the general regulations—any man, however, might take
as many horses as he pleased; which many of us did.
Other regulations were drawn up, for the conduct of the
party, which it is unnecessary to detail here. On the
day appointed, we met at St. Louis, in high spirits,
breathing the most impatient ardour to proceed.

Had some kind spirit whispered, “You are about to
enter upon an enterprise, for the presumption of which
you will be chastised with grievous calamities”—had it
whispered that, instead of six months, my absence would
embrace three long years of unparalleled sufferings—but
oh! no such kind monitor—not the slightest conviction—
not the most distant apprehension obtruded on my too
unsuspicious mind.