University of Virginia Library

A MILLERITE MIRACLE.

In a little village in the state of Hoosierana, in the
year 1844, there was "all sorts" of excitement concerning
the doctrines and prophesies of that arch-deceiver,
Miller. For months the Midnight Cry, followed by
the Morning Howl, and the Noonday Yell, had circulated
through the village and surrounding counties, to
an extent not even equalled by Dr. D.'s celebrated
speech. Men disposed of their property for little or
nothing. The women were pale and ghastly from
watching and praying, and in fact, the whole population,
or at least those who believed in the coming ascension,
looked as if they were about half-over a second attack
of the chills and fever. There were, however, some
"choice spirits," (not choice in theirs, however,) who,
notwithstanding the popularity of the delusion, would
not enlist under the banners of the ascensionists, and
among these was a wild, harumscarum blade from
"Down East," by the name of Cabe Newham. Now
Cabe was as hard "a case" as you would meet on a
fourth of July in Texas, always alive for fun and sport

of any and every description, and a strong disbeliever
in Millerism.

The night of the third of April was the time agreed
upon out west here, for the grand exhibition of "ground
and lofty tumbling," and about ten o'clock of the said
night, numbers of the Millerites assembled on the outskirts
of the town, on a little eminence, upon which the
proprietor had allowed a few trees to stand. In the
crowd, and the only representative of his race present,
was a free negro by the name of Sam, about as ugly,
black, woolly, and rough a descendant of Ham as ever
baked his shins over a kitchen fire.

Sam's head was small, body and arms very long, and
his legs bore a remarkable resemblance to a pair of
hames; in fact, put Sam on a horse, his legs clasped
round its neck, his head towards the tail, and his arms
clasped round the animal's hams, and at ten paces off
you would swear he was an old set of patent gearing.

The leader of the Millerites, owing to an "ancient
grudge he bore him," hated Sam "like smoke," and
had done all in his power to prevent his admittance
among the "elect," but all to no purpose; Sam would
creep in at every meeting, and to-night here he was
again, dressed in a white robe of cheap cotton, secured
to his body by a belt, and shouting and praying as loud
as the best.

Now on the morning of the third, Cabe had, with a
deal of perseverance, and more trouble, managed to
throw a half-inch hemp cord over the branch of an oak,
which stretched its long arm directly over the spot where
the Millerites would assemble; one end he had secured
to the body of the tree, and the other to a stump some

distance off. About ten o'clock, when the excitement
was getting about "eighty pounds to the inch," Cabe,
wrapped in an old sheet, walked into the crowd, and
proceeded to fasten, in as secure a manner as possible,
the end of the rope to the back part of the belt which
confined Sam's robe, and having succeeded, "sloped"
to join some of his companions who had the other end.
The few stars in the sky threw a dim light over the
scene, and in a few moments the voice of Sam was
heard, exclaiming "Gor Almighty! I'se a goin' up!
Who-o-oh!" and sure enough, Sam was seen mounting
into the "ethereal blue;" this was, however, checked
when he had cleared "terra firma" a few feet.
"Glory!" cried one, "Hallelujah!" another, and
shrieks and yells made night hideous; some fainted,
others prayed, and not a few dropped their robes and
"slid." Now, whether it was owing to the lightness
of his head, or the length and weight of his heels, or
both, Sam's position was not a pleasant one; the belt
to which Cabe's cord was attached was bound exactly
round his centre of gravity, and Sam swung like a pair
of scales, head up and heels down, heels up and head
down, at the same time sweeping over the crowd like a
pendulum, which motion was accelerated by his strenuous
clapping of hands and vigorous kicking. At
length he became alarmed, he wouldn't go up, and he
couldn't come down! "Lor a massy," cried he, "jist
take up poor nigger to um bosom, or lef him down
again, easy, easy. Lef him down again, please um
Lor, and dis nigger will go straight to um bed!
Ugh-h-h," and Sam's teeth chattered with affright, and
he kicked again more vigorously than before, bringing
his head directly downward and his heels up, when a
woman shrieking out, "Oh! Brother Sam, take me
with you," sprung at his head as he swept by her,
and caught him by the wool, bringing him up "all
standing." "Gosh! Sister," cried Sam, "lef go um
poor nigger's har." Cabe gave another pull at the
rope, but the additional weight was too much, the belt
gave way and down came Sam, his bullet head taking
the leader of the saints a "feeler" just between the
eyes. "Gosh, is I down agin?" cried the bewildered
Sam, gathering himself up. "I is, bress de Lor! but
I was nearly dar, I seed de gate!" The leader wiped
his overflowing proboscis, took Sam by the nape of the
neck, led him to the edge of the crowd, and giving him
a kick, said, "Leave, you cussed baboon! you are so
ugly I know'd they wouldn't let you in."