University of Virginia Library

27. Adventure of a Colporteur.

Accidentally meeting one day with an old school-mate,
whom I had lost sight of for a number of years, I learned
in the first few minutes of our conversation that he had
been a traveling colporteur, but had lately married and
settled in the West, turned storekeeper, and was now on
a visit to some of his friends at the East.

To some very natural inquiries which I made, he replied
by telling me the following thrilling and romantic incident:

“The life of a colporteur,” he began, “is a very hard and
trying one. Traveling from place to place, as he does,
through the more thinly-peopled sections of the country;
imitating his Great Master so far as to be with the poor
always; selling his religious works where he can—giving
them away where money is wanting and he sees a chance
of their doing good; holding meetings in the wilderness,
perhaps a hundred miles from any regular church or pastor;
visiting the sick; officiating for the dead; endeavoring to
console the mourner; exposed to heat and cold, sunshine

and storm; sometimes riding the whole day without food,
and often passing the night in the most unhealthy and
wretched quarters; continually meeting with incidents and
accidents of the most disagreeable nature; now receiving
the blessings of the good, and anon the bitter curses of the
bad: all this, my friend, is very trying to one poor human
system, and there are few men so constituted as to be able
to hold out in the good work for any great length of time.

“During the few years which I spent in this manner, in
what I may call the wilderness of the West, many events
occurred, which, could I now recall, and had I time to
relate, I believe would deeply interest you; but I will only
give you the most remarkable one of all, and the one most
closely interwoven with my life and destiny.

“One dull, gloomy, drizzling day, during the spring of
the last year I served in the capacity I have mentioned, I
found myself, near the setting in of night, passing through
a long, dreary wood, where for miles I had not seen any
habitation. In fact, since noon of that day, I had passed
but one dwelling—a poor, miserable log-hut—where for
myself I had obtained rather a lunch than a meal, but had
not been able to procure any thing for my weary horse.
How far I had yet to go to reach a habitation where I
could find shelter for the night, I could not say, and in consequence
I began to feel quite uneasy. My horse was

fatigued and hungry, and myself cold, wet, and uncomfortable.

“Spurring on my jaded beast, however, in the hope that
I should yet find some comfortable lodging on the way, I
rode on some two miles further, and descended into a steep,
narrow valley, through which flowed a swift mountain
stream, and across which led the narrow road I was
pursuing.

“It was now getting quite dark; and as I reached the
stream and heard the gloomy murmur of its swollen waters,
and knew not if it were safe to attempt the ford, I felt quite
disheartened, and was half tempted to turn back and
encamp as best I could upon the high ground of the hill
above.

“But looking around me, as my poor horse pricked up
his ears and uttered a pleading whinney, I espied a light a
few rods below; and riding down to it, I was greatly
relieved and rejoiced to find it proceeded from a neat and
comfortable dwelling, which stood back some ten or fifteen
yards from the stream, and probably as many feet above the
level of its waters.

“On knocking at the door, it was opened by a very genteel
looking woman, some forty-five or fifty years of age,
who, from her dress and appearance, I judged to be in deep
mourning. To my statement of who and what I was, and

my application for permission to pass the night beneath
her roof, she replied, in a kind and gentle tone, that she
would be very happy to entertain me, if I would accept of
her humble fare.

“Procuring a lantern, and a small measure of corn for
my horse, I led him by direction to the other side of the
hill, where, after hobbling, I turned him out to graze in a
partially cleared field.

“On returning to the house, I was agreeably surprised
to find a bright and pleasant fire, a smoking supper well
under way, and, gracing the apartment with her mother, a
young lady some eighteen years of age, whom at a single
glance I considered one of the most beautiful and fascinating
beings I had ever seen. She was of the medium height,
with light hair, blue eyes, and a pale, lovely face, upon
which every noble virtue seemed to have set its seal. She
was modest, retiring, and intelligent, and her voice was
one of great sweetness and melody. From the very first I
became deeply interested in her—to me she was a delicate
flower blooming in a dreary wilderness—and consequently
I became more than usually interested in the family history
as related by her mother.

“The elder lady was a widow by the name of Arlington,
who, some three years previous to the time I speak of, had,
with her husband and two children, removed from the eastward,
and settled in the lonely place where I now found

them. Some half a mile above their dwelling, and some
two miles below what was then a small, but rather flourishing
village, Mr. Arlington had erected a sawmill and gristmill.
He had just got them completed and in good working
order, when, one dark, stormy night, going out to raise
the flood-gate, he had fallen into the water, been swept
down the torrent, and drowned; the body being discovered
the next day, some two or three miles below. One of the
two children mentioned, the eldest, a son, some twenty
years of age, had taken the place of his father since his
death, and was now away at the mills; and the other, the
daughter, Julia Arlington, was the one I have already
described.

“ `It was on a night similar to this, Mr. Perry,' pursued
the widow, addressing me in a sad tone of deep feeling,
`that we met with that great misfortune which time can
never repair—for what can compensate for the loss of a
beloved husband and kind father? Never do I hear the
hoarse murmurs of yonder stream, amid the dark and dismal
watches of the night, that my mind is not borne back
to that night of all nights of suffering suspense, and that
awful realization which followed when the remains of him
we so devotedly loved were brought here and placed before
us, as if only for one final farewell of his clay-cold form!
Oh! the anxious hours I pass, thinking of my son! who,
for aught I know, may come to the same untimely end!

and on nights like this, when he is compelled to be away
from home, I spend a great portion of my time in prayerful
anxiety; and even the presence of a stranger is most
heartily welcome, as a slight relief to the painful gloom,
though we are seldom called upon to entertain one.'

“Mrs. Arlington shed tears as she spoke, and the fair
Julia wept almost convulsively. I offered what consolation
I could; told them to put their trust in Providence; that
all seeming evils were for our good; and after some further
conversation of a similar nature, and a narration in part
of my own history, I read an appropriate chapter from the
Bible, offered prayers, and retired for the night.

“The house was a small frame, a story and a half in
height, containing two or three rooms on the ground floor,
and two above—one of which latter was assigned me for a
lodging, the widow and her daughter remaining below.
Being greatly wearied with my day's ride, I quickly turned
in; and thinking of the fair Julia—her bereavement, loneliness,
and consequent desolation—I soon fell asleep, to see
her again in my dreams.

“I might have slept for a couple of hours—I cannot
say; but on waking, as I did with something like a start, I
heard the rain pouring down in torrents, and even fancied
the hoarse murmurs of the mountain stream, as it dashed
swiftly past over its rocky bed, were sounding in my
ear.

“ `Thank God for this comfortable shelter!' was my
mental prayer, and again I fell asleep.

“From this second sleep, which was more sound than
the first, I was aroused by several wild, appalling shrieks.
Starting up in bed, I was horrified, almost paralyzed, at
hearing the terrible roar and rush of heavy waters around
me, and of feeling the whole building tremble and shake,
as if it were about to be wrenched from its foundation,
torn asunder, and scattered in fragments.

“For a few moments I knew not where I was, and could
not comprehend what had happened; but the continuous
shrieks for help, and a fancied recognition of the voice of
Julia Arlington, brought back my recollection to the point
of retiring to rest, and then the whole truth seemed suddenly
to flash upon me.

“And, merciful God! what a truth! what a horrible
reality! The mountain stream had burst its former boundaries—had
ascended its banks in a wild, roaring, raging
flood—had partially submerged the dwelling of my kind
hostess, and was now surging past with that terrific
power which no strength or art of man can check; and
which, in its awful force and sublimity, seems to mock his
weakness, and tell him how frail, how helpless, how insignificant
he is before one single element, when guided by
the Almighty hand of Omnipotence.

“As shriek on shriek still rose above the creaking and

groaning of the swaying timbers of the dwelling—above
the moanings of the blast, the plashing of the rain, and
the gurgling, rushing, surging murmurs of the angry flood
—I sprung from my bed, threw on a part of my clothing,
hurried to the stairs, and commenced descending them
rapidly.

“When a little more than half way down, I found to my
dismay and horror, that my feet were buried in water, and
I knew that the parties below must be struggling in the
liquid element to keep themselves from drowning. Laboring
as I knew they must be under the most intense and
terrible excitement, they might naturally want the presence
of mind which would enable them to escape immediate
destruction by gaining the second story; and shouting to
to them that help was at hand, I plunged boldly downward
into some four feet depth of water, and went knocking
about in the deep darkness among the different articles of
furniture, but struggling forward to the point whence came
the continued shrieks of fear and distress.

“The flood was still rising rapidly; it appeared to me
that I could feel it gaining upon us every moment; the
groaning and trembling house seemed about to be borne
away, or come crumbling down around us; and I felt, if
there were indeed any salvation for us, our lives depended
upon the action of the momentous seconds which were so
rapidly bearing us to the verge of eternity.

“Happily I soon reached the widow and her daughter,
whom I found clasped in each other's arms, nearly beside
themselves with terror, but instinctively keeping their
heads above the water in which their bodies floated; and
speaking to them some soothing words of hope which I
little felt myself, I dragged them forward, found the stairs,
and assisted them to the story above.

“By this time poor Julia Arlington had fainted; but
the mother, with a slight revival of hope, seemed to regain
her presence of mind; and as we both bent over her
daughter, chafing her limbs, and dashing water in her
face, till she began to show signs of returning consciousness,
she said to me, with a deep feeling of a fond and
grateful parent:

“ `May the Lord Almighty bless you for this! You
must have been providentially sent to our rescue; for
without your aid, I am certain we should have been
drowned below!'

“ `Alas!' said I somewhat gloomily, as the rising waters
seemed to roar around us even more fearfully than ever;
`we are not yet saved! we are not yet saved! and the good
God alone knows what fate is in reserve for us!'

“ `God help us!' exclaimed the restored Julia, a few
minutes later, as she stood trembling and clinging to her
mother and myself, and endeavoring to peer around her in

the awful darkness: `I fear we shall yet be swept away by
this terrible flood!'

“ `I have my fears, too!' I replied; `but we will rely
upon God's mercy, and hope to the last!'

Almost as I spoke, there came a louder creaking and
groaning—then a crashing as of some breaking timbers—
then a rocking to and fro, like a boat upon the waves—
and then a seeming whirling and plunging downward and
forward.

“ `God help us now indeed!' I exclaimed; `for we are
already afloat—already in the grasp of the angry flood—
and should be prepared for the worst, as becometh those
who put their hope and trust in a Higher Power and a
better world!'

“I need not dwell upon that never-to-be-forgotten night.
I could not, if I would, describe our feelings of alternate
hope and despair; our unspeakable anxieties, as we went
whirling down with the rushing tide—rocking, rolling,
plunging through the seething, bubbling waters; now striking
some rock or tree with almost force enough to crush
our frail tenement; now checked in our progress till some
feeling of hope would revive; now torn from our moorings
and sent onward again, a frail bubble upon the bosom of a
maddened flood, till despair would awe us to silence in view
of the impending death!

“All that dark and awful night was passed in a manner

which if you cannot imagine, I have no language to
describe.

“Reaching at daylight a long, broad level, we floated
out of the main current, and made a lodgment upon rising
ground, as Noah's ark might have rested upon the summit
of Mount Ararat.

“Here we remained through the day, in painful anxiety—
watching the timbers, drift-wood, and wrecks of buildings
which went floating past us—and humbly thanking God
for our own wonderful preservation. Before noon the
storm had begun to abate; and we saw the sun of that
day set gloriously in the west, with the water subsiding
around us.

“We passed another night beneath the same roof; but
on the second day we were enabled to walk forth, and
make our way to a settlement in the vicinity, where we
were hospitably received, and where the anxious mother
and sister were joined by the son and brother, whose
escape from death had been almost as miraculous as our
own.

“In conclusion I have only to add, that the acquaintance
of two, begun amid such fearful and trying scenes, soon
deepended into a friendship, which ripened into a pure
and holy love; and Julia Arlington is now the wife of him
who labored for her salvation through that long, dark,
terrific night of tempest, flood, and staring death.”