THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK 
 
 THE NOTIONS AND EXPERIENCES 
 OF A QUAINT RURAL PHILOSO 
 PHER WHO THINKS FOR HIMSELF. 
 
 KDITKD BY 
 
 THOMAS N. IVEY 
 
 Editor Raleigh Christian Advocate 
 and Southern Methodist Handbook 
 
 MUTUAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 RALBIOU, N. C.
 
 COPYRIGHT, DECEMBER, 1909, 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS N. IVEY. 
 SECOND EDITION, MARCH, 1910.
 
 ?s 
 
 3.102, 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 To THOSE MEN AND WOMEN WHOSE 
 
 LIFE CIRCLE WAS NARROWED GEOGRAPH 
 ICALLY, EDUCATIONALLY, AND SOCIALLY 
 BY THE RUGGED FORCES OF A GENERATION 
 NOW GONE, WHO BOAST OF NO HALL 
 MARK SAVE THAT OF HIGH CHRISTIAN 
 MANHOOD AND WOMANHOOD, BUT WHO, 
 BY THE GRACE OF GOD, SOBER INDUSTRY, 
 AND SIMPLE RECTITUDE, AND THROUGH 
 THE RICHNESS OF THAT LEGACY RECEIVED 
 FROM ANCESTORS OF PURE BLOOD AND A 
 SOUND CONSCIENCE HAVE BECOME THE 
 REPOSITORIES OF A WISDOM WHICH BE 
 LONGS TO THE BEST AND LARGEST LIFE. 
 
 550087
 
 EDITOR'S STATEMENT. 
 
 There have appeared from time to time, dur 
 ing the last six years, in the Raleigh Christian 
 Advocate, organ of the North Carolina Confer 
 ence, Methodist Episcopal Church, South, a num 
 ber of letters written by one who signed him 
 self "Bildad Akers"; also editorials embodying 
 interviews with the quaint old philosopher of 
 Biblical name. Bildad Akers at once became a 
 favorite with the readers of the Advocate. His 
 sayings were quoted far and wide. Great curi 
 osity as to his personality and abiding place was 
 evinced by many. The editor deems it sufficient 
 to say only that our philosopher is Bildad Akers. 
 
 So many requests for the publication of the 
 articles and letters in book form have been made 
 that the editor feels that he has no right to deny 
 the request. He presents "Bildad Akers: His 
 Book" to the reading public. In doing so he feels 
 that he is presenting a book which, neither fic 
 tion nor biography, and by no means belonging 
 to what some call "high literature," is never 
 theless one of the most serious books that can 
 be written. For in the heart of almost every par 
 agraph there lies a valuable lesson for some one. 
 Let no one suppose for a moment that Bildad 
 Akers is frivolous. The editor can testify that
 
 EDITOR'S STATEMENT. 
 
 every line of the book w*as written from the 
 standpoint of a high moral purpose. May the 
 book serve to brighten the eye, illuminate the 
 mind, and strengthen the heart of the reader. 
 
 THOMAS N. IVEY. 
 RALEIGH, N. C., Nov. 10, 1909.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. BILDAD AKERS GOES TO THE "DEES- 
 
 TRICT" CONFERENCE 19 
 
 His daughter objects to his duster His 
 views on traveling His experience at the 
 depot His home at the "Jedge's" Talking 
 delegates Hears his preacher Rebukes 
 preachers who talk too much Goes to sleep 
 during a long prayer Explains a mystery 
 connected with open-air preaching. 
 
 II. AFTER THE FAIR 29 
 
 A rainy Saturday after the Fair Replies 
 to the strictures of brother Ben A preach 
 er at the table Sam Moon's discomfiture 
 How the preachers received the "jiners" 
 The " Quarterly." 
 
 III. BILBAO'S FIRST VISIT TO THE "OLD 
 
 ROLLY " 37 
 
 The editor meets Bildad Akers Bildad tells 
 why he had not written to the Advocate for 
 some time Tells of the prayer-meeting he 
 had attended the night before Mistakes a 
 concert crowd for worshipers Advises the 
 abolition of the prayer-meeting He gives 
 his reasons therefor Indulges in some prac 
 tical philosophy on the subject of church 
 loyalty. 
 
 IV. INTERVIEW WITH BILDAD AKERS ON 
 
 A TRAIN 47 
 
 Bildad and the conductor He explains why 
 he went to town Tells about his experience 
 at the town church on Sunday Lectures his 
 daughter, who is inclined to "siety" Dis 
 cusses the sermon Gives his views on the 
 "new order of worship" Discusses the crit 
 icism of long sermons. 
 
 V. BILDAD AKERS AND STREET PREACH 
 ING 5T 
 
 Bildad is found listening to a street ser 
 mon He is carried by the editor to the 
 office He defends street preaching A 
 strange interpretation of the Great Com 
 mission He says that the Gospel must be 
 carried to the people.
 
 Tiii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PA.OI 
 
 VI. THE FIRST QUARTERLY MEETING OF 
 
 THE YEAR 67 
 
 A puzzling letter Bildad tells why Cap'n 
 Hanks and Boee King were at the "fust 
 quarterly" A great hurry to get through 
 the "quarterly" The sale at Jinks's The 
 "elder" scores the "preecher" Bildad makes 
 a speech when Brother Reems wants the 
 preacher to absent himself when his salary 
 is to he fixed Bildad gains a great vic 
 tory Cap'n Hanks and Bose King wrestle 
 over the assessments of their respective 
 churches The ignorance of "ole Jimmy 
 Deeton" A tribute to Bildad Akers. 
 VII. A REMEDY FOR A SICKLY PRAYER- 
 MEETING 79 
 
 Bildad attends the Bryan celebration He 
 takes in a "pra'r-meetin" He is rejoiced to 
 find that the "pra'r-meetin" is according to 
 his idea He tells how to get the people 
 out He draws a lesson from Jake Baggart 
 and his corn shuckings He uses "Lizy" and 
 the dried-apple pie to illustrate the value of 
 variety in services Bildad asks about the 
 spelling of President Roosevelt and is com 
 forted. 
 VIII. A BEWILDERING BUT INTERESTING 
 
 LETTER 89 
 
 Why he didn't go to the Fair "Lizy" keeps 
 him from going to Raleigh on circus day 
 His weakness as shown in his love of a 
 "steam pianny" The "big meetin" Good 
 grub versus the Spirit Bildad lectures the 
 preacher for using a "currycome" and the 
 people for foundering themselves on good 
 rations Bildad saves the day He thinks 
 "Ole Ebenezer" will "pull through" He 
 makes a plea for the men "in the woods." 
 
 IX. BILDAD GOES TO COMMENCEMENT. . . 99 
 Bildad apologizes for his long silence He 
 discusses hard times Old Peter McGillis 
 Bildad admonishes all to trust in Provi 
 dence He tells of a Sunday School in win 
 ter quarters He attends commencement
 
 CONTENTS. ii 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 He gives his opinion of pigeon-tailed coate 
 He is enthusiastic over his church college. 
 
 X. AN OCTOBER LETTER 109 
 
 "Brother Tomas" as a poet Under the in 
 fluence of the poetry Bildad makes up a 
 purse with which to send his preacher to 
 "Jeemstown" Unhooking the preacher's 
 horse Feeding the preacher A preacher 
 with the "blues" The preacher responsible 
 for the scattering of his "jiners" The 
 "preacherfied look" as considered by Bildad 
 A preacher should be a man, not a cross 
 "betwixt a mail and a femail pusson." 
 XI. BILDAD AKERS AT THE ANNUAL CON 
 FERENCE 121 
 
 The fears of "Lizy" Bildad speaks of the 
 kindness of his friends at Conference His 
 enjoyment of New Bern He likes the Bish 
 op He discusses the Laymen's Movement 
 The "Jint Board of Finances" His impres 
 sions of the church building His indigna 
 tion over the defilement of the carpet with 
 tobacco juice He attributes the outrage to 
 "furriners." 
 
 XII. BILDAD AKERS ATTENDS A PROHIBI 
 TION MEETING 131 
 
 An astonishing toilet He explains How he 
 downed Bill Rollins at the "fust quarterly" 
 Why he did not go to Chattanooga At 
 Sikes's store. 
 
 XIII. ANOTHER WONDERFUL LETTER 141 
 
 "Omnybuss Items" Needed: sanctified fuss 
 es Bildad lectures the preachers who will 
 not write for the church paper Bill Baggs 
 and his "nervusness" The preacher spends 
 Saturday night with Bildad Bildad dis 
 cusses three "harisies" Missing one Sun 
 day Old Sister Buckins and pastoral visit 
 ing. 
 
 XIV. AN EVENING WITH BILDAD AKERS.. 151 
 The editor visits Bildad Akers Sitting 
 under the wisteria vine Bildad talks sadly 
 
 of the mind and heart poverty of his neigh-
 
 x CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAJTEB PAOB 
 
 bors John Winkler Bill Summers argues 
 against education Lessons for the country 
 preacher The needs of the rural sections 
 The story of old Jimmy Flack and his quar 
 ter. 
 
 XV. BASEBALL AND THE CHURCH PAPER, 163 
 Bildad discovered in the waiting-room by the 
 editor The two become fellow-travelers 
 Ousting a railroad hog Bildad again com 
 plains of the conductor's card-board identi 
 fication slip Bildad justifies his enthusi 
 asm for baseball He does not want "Lizy" 
 to know He asks about the Advocate 
 The editor's reply Jeems Sedley, the man 
 who would not pay for his paper Bildad 
 ruminates on the question Bildad tells of 
 the ignorance of Bob Toole Bildad's plan 
 for running the church papers. 
 
 XVI. SOME ADVICE TO FARMERS 175 
 
 Bildad tells "Lizy" why he should write for 
 his farm paper The trouble with the farm 
 ers Bildad tells what kind of a farmer he 
 is Moving to town The case of Lige 
 White. 
 
 XVII. HOW BILDAD AKERS COLLECTED 
 
 MOLT HENRY'S QUARTERAGE 183 
 
 The editor finds Bildad Akers in town visit 
 ing relatives Why Bildad felt "kinder 
 holler An evening walk The beauty of 
 an autumn night "Stewarts" tried by hard 
 cases Bildad wants to know how the Meth 
 odist church ever became infested with skin 
 flints and dead-beats He tells the story of 
 his experience with Molt Henry. 
 
 XVIII. THE CREED OF BILDAD AKERS 197 
 
 The spell of a golden afternoon A notice 
 able change in Bildad Akers, who makes the 
 editor a visit Bildad tells what he thinks 
 of a real religious experience He tells of 
 his conversion He gives the gist of hia 
 doctrine He thinks that present-day preach 
 ing is lacking in one important thing The 
 vision of the editor.
 
 PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE. 
 
 It turned out just as I expected. When, after 
 having sent for Bildad Akers to come to see me, 
 I told him that I was seriously thinking of col 
 lecting his sayings and experiences and publish 
 ing them in book form, there came a very serious 
 look into his eyes, and there was a tightening 
 of the lines about his large expressive mouth. 
 He looked at the floor, shook slowly his grizzled 
 head, and determinedly said "no." 
 
 Then, after a few moments of silence, he 
 turned toward me and said in his characteristic 
 way: "Ivry, these peeple air not wantin' sich a 
 book as comes from Bildad Akers. Thar is too 
 many scholars an potry writers who kin fling 
 hifalutin' lanerwidge and use sky-scrapin' idees fer 
 sich as me to git any kind o' hearin'." 
 
 I reasoned with him and told him that people 
 had become tired of so much deep thought and 
 the dress it wears, and that an occasional pre 
 sentation of simple thought, clothed in home 
 spun, pleases them more than the dainty fastidi 
 ous thought of scholars. 
 
 "But," said Bildad, "you wouldn't think of 
 usin' my idees and langwidge without dressin' 
 'em up some puttin' on 'em their Sundy close, 
 you know, an' makin' 'em fit for compny." 
 . "That is just the point, Bildad," I said; "you 
 hardly ever see in a book anything which is not 
 in a way dressed up in its "Sunday close," and 
 which does not look a little artificial. To see 
 thought in its elemental state and dressed, so to
 
 12 PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE. 
 
 speak, in nature's garb is one of the demands of 
 human nature. Suppose I were to dress you up 
 in a swallow-tail coat and kid gloves and put a 
 silk hat on your head and turn you loose, what 
 kind of figure would you make in a parlor ?" 
 
 Bildad's mouth relaxed into a smile as he said : 
 "I'd look like a bloomin' eejit." 
 
 "But, as you are now, you are Mr. Bildad 
 Akers, a good citizen, a man of good common 
 sense, and to whom even educated people go for 
 advice. Is not this so?" 
 
 "Of course," said Bildad, with a complacent 
 smile. 
 
 "Then, don't you see that if I were to dress 
 up your thought and language in the way you 
 suggested, it would only make you tame and 
 ridiculous, while, if I let it remain just as it 
 comes from you, it would be like Mr. Bildad 
 Akers original, respectable, and interesting?" 
 
 "I see the pint," said Bildad. 
 
 But his fears were not allayed. His face took 
 on a tenderer look as he gazed at me and said : 
 
 "Ivry, I think a sight of you. You have been 
 good to me and have helped me lots. Do you 
 think it will help your repytashun any as a lit- 
 terary man to be tied up in a rale book with sich 
 a feller as Bildad Akers. Seems to me you 
 should put your name on a book which is more 
 dignified." 
 
 I told Bildad that my object in life is not to 
 build up a reputation in the literary world, but 
 to help humanity. I also said that if it is not 
 dignified to introduce to the people such a man
 
 PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE. 13 
 
 as Bildad Akers and acquaint them with his 
 solution of problems which have been puzzling 
 the minds of the high and great, dignity, for my 
 part, might take the wings of a dove, fly away, 
 and be at rest. 
 
 This seemed to please Bildad. I saw that the 
 book had his sanction. 
 
 He scratched his head, however, and said, 
 "What you goin' to name it?" 
 
 I suggested several titles, none of which 
 seemed to please him. "Homespun Philosophy" 
 did not impress him. He said that "Flosofy is too 
 hifalutin' a name." He objected to "Charcoal 
 Sketches" on the ground that "it'd make peeple 
 think of a nigger minstrul." To my question, 
 "What, then?" he said, "Jest what I writ in my 
 ole blew-back spellin' book nigh onto fifty yeer 
 ago 'Bildad Akers : His Book/ " 
 
 This is the name, gentle reader, and the book 
 is open for your inspection.
 
 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK.
 
 "I'll read you the whole from beginning to end, with 
 the prologue and epilogue, and allow time for the musit 
 between the acts." Sheridan, THE CRITIC.
 
 BILDAD AKERS GOES TO THE "DEES- 
 TRICT" CONFERENCE.
 
 "But I am sich a pore stick myself I feel sorry for 
 every one who is like me, and I have allers made it a 
 rool not to say nothin' ferninst a man ef I caint say 
 anything speshal fer him." Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MR. EDDITOR. The wether is mighty hot jest 
 now, and as an old man like me has got to set a 
 good deal in the shade these days, I kinder 
 thought I mout as well write you about the 
 Deestrict Confearance which I was a dellygate 
 to. I sent you a pome a month ago comin' next 
 Satidy. I writ it one night arter supper, and I 
 have been lookin' fer it in every Advocate sence, 
 but nary a glimps have I got of the pome. So 
 I will send you a letter 'bout the Deestrict Con 
 fearance. 
 
 I started afore sun up on Wensdy mornin' so 
 as to take the rale-rode cars at the sidin' so as 
 to get to the place in good time. I allers like to 
 get to a meetin' ahead o' time. When Sally, who 
 is my darter, who has jest quit collidge, saw me 
 startin' off in my duster, she said, "Why, pappy, 
 you shorely are not goin' to wear that old duster ? 
 Why, they have gone out of fashun, and that old 
 umbrella, don't tie it up that away. It looks, 
 like you mout have a peck of apples in it." "Sally, 
 my darter," says I, "you have had the iluminatin' 
 educational iluminashun of an educashun in a 
 good educashunal school, but you don't know as . 
 many things yit as your pappy knows. Common , : 
 jedgement tells me that when a man travels on,.,
 
 2O BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 the steam cars a duster is the thing, and this um- 
 berell kivered your grandpappy to many a meet- 
 in,' and it will kiver me, ceptin' it falls to peaces, 
 and it can bag out like a baloon or curl up like 
 a litenin rod jest as it likes." They say I am sot 
 in my ways that is, Ben says so. So I kissed 
 Lizy and Sally and meandered. My son is teach- 
 in' of a summer school over on the Bend, or he 
 would have went too. 
 
 Mr. Edditor, did you ever have a kind of lone- 
 sum feelin' when you retched a strange place? 
 Well, I shore had a lonesum feelin' when I 
 retched my stoppin' place. There was plenty 
 of dellygates on the steam cars. I didn't know 
 none of the preechers scusin' the Elder, and he 
 didn't know me. Jonas Bates, my nabor on Sandy 
 Ridge, was on the cars, but he had tried to play 
 big on the cars and smoke a seegar, and it made 
 him so sick he didn't have nary word to speak 
 to nobody. I was shore lonesum. 
 
 When I got off at the depow the preecher, I 
 reckin it was, was thar callin' names often a 
 paper. I stood with my satchell in my hand tell 
 they all got off scusin' one man who told the de 
 pow keeper that he was lookin' for Mr. Akers 
 who was to go to the Jedge's. I spoke up and 
 said to him, "I persume I am the indervidual
 
 THE DEESTRICT CONFERENCE. 21 
 
 you are hankerin' arter." He shuck my hand, 
 and looked at my duster and umberell, and pam 
 leaf fan, and said, "I am glad to meet you, Broth 
 er Akers; you are to stop with Brother Jim 
 Snooks jest three miles out. He is up at the 
 store now, and ef you hurry you may be able to 
 ride out thar." My dander kinder riz, and I said, 
 "Have you got my name on that paper?" "Yes," 
 he said. "Well, what does it say about Bildad 
 Aker's stoppin' place ? Did they put an old man 
 like me out three miles in the kentry?" He was 
 kinder confused, at least his face was red, and he 
 said : "Brother Akers, you are to go up to Jedge 
 Simpson's. I was mistaken." And this is the 
 way Bildad Akers didn't walk three miles to 
 Snookses. The man pintedly thought I was a 
 bloomin' haseeder. 
 
 I found a fine home at the Jedges. He give 
 me the best room in the house, right next to the 
 Elder's, and I hearn him say to some one that 
 he found Mr. Akers an interestin' pussonage. 
 How I wish Charles and Ben could have saw 
 me thar. I have allers spied out that men who 
 have the rale stile outardly and innerdly knows 
 best how to enjy rale wuth in homespun. I didn't 
 dissgrace the Jedge and his family, onless it was 
 when I was tryin' to cut some green lookin'
 
 22 BILDAD AKERS ! HIS BOOK. 
 
 plums with a knife. I believe they called 'em 
 ollives and they wasn't ripe. They had a kinder 
 furrin taste. But there was no laffin' by the Jedge 
 and his famly. They zibited their raisin' thar. 
 
 Well, I shorely enjyed the confearance ; I staid 
 the last minnit. This thing of preechers and 
 dellygates breakin' away afore the close of the 
 meetin' like a passel of colts out of a pasture 
 should stop. What does the Quarterly send del 
 lygates for cept it is to stay and do somethin'? 
 They 'lected dellygates to the confearance at 
 Golesboro and thar was only ten of us to do any 
 votin'. I hope that Ben and Charles will dis- 
 kiver that I liked only one vote of bein' lected. 
 They allers said I could not be lected to nothin'. 
 But that is bekase Charles had that unfortunate 
 miss fortune in polly ticks some time ago. 
 
 I liked the Elder's way of callin' out the delly 
 gates to give their views on sartin subjects. The 
 Babtisses beat us in havin' a hooraw time at their 
 Soshiashuns bekase every mother's son of em 
 senses that the meetin' belongs to them. Some 
 how or tother in the Deestrict Confearences I 
 have been to, the idee seemed to be that the meet- 
 in' belonged to the Elder, and that ef every one 
 didn't walk close to the line, there would be some- 
 thin' to pay. I've seed dellygates lyin' low in
 
 THE "DEESTRICT CONFERENCE. 23 
 
 the meetin' and they made me think of rabbitts 
 squattin' in a clump of broom sedge. The idee is 
 for every dellygate to feel that the meetin' is 
 theirs, and that he has the right to call out on 
 every subject and idee that spikes him. Why, 
 I made a speech on quarterage raisin' that they 
 are talkin' about yit. I allers did have a streek 
 of pure home made orrtory in me. 
 
 Endurin' of the meetin' I hearn my preecher 
 preech. He didn't seem as peart as he does gin- 
 erally, but then I've hearn that a preacher caint 
 do his levelest at a Deestrict Confearance ceptin' 
 he has an uncommon amount of sanctyfyed gall. 
 They say that preechin' to preechers is like run- 
 nin' ferninst snags in new ground. 
 
 This minds me that afore goin' to preachin', 
 one night endurin' of the confearance, I hearn 
 one preecher ask another preecher at the drug 
 store how he liked the sarmont that day. The, 
 preecher jest tore that sarmont to peaces. That 
 very sarmont had somehow mellered me and 
 made me feel some how like climbin' a few rods 
 higher on the mounting of grace, but when I 
 hearn the preecher tearin' that sarmont to peaces, 
 I stumbled and sprawled back bout ten feet down 
 the mounting. 
 
 I was settin' out on Jedge's porch one night
 
 24 BILDAD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 arter meetin' and a passel of preechers was talk- 
 in', and they talked a heap about other preechers, 
 and do you know, I went to bed with a bad taste 
 in my mouth. I think that it was the lint left 
 by a cupple of preechers frailin' the lives and 
 karackters of other preechers. I haint got much 
 to brag about. I have been to school consider 
 able in the summer and know somethin' bout 
 spellin' and speakin'. I have got a good farm 
 and a lovin' famly. I got an average amount of 
 grace at Gunn's Chapel in '54. But I am sich a 
 pore stick myself I feel sorry for every one who 
 is like me, and I have allers made it a rool not to 
 say nothin' ferninst a man, ef I can't say nothin' 
 speshal fer him. I wonder if preechers talk about 
 tother preechers this way at all their meetin's? 
 I hope not. My old pappy used to say that a 
 kind word is the cheapest thing in the world to 
 be as valuable as it is. 
 
 Now Ben and Charles, who are kind of ex- 
 sorters and sometimes takes texts (which is fer 
 ninst the Dissciplin), will think that all this talk 
 about preechers is about them. But let them 
 think. It will do them good to use their minds 
 a leetle. But they are both mighty good men. 
 
 The sorryest thing I done at the confearance 
 was to go to sleep on the last night while the
 
 THE "DEESTRICT" CONFERENCE. 25 
 
 preacher was prayin' the openin' pra'r. I have re 
 pented of this in flax cloth and ashes. I got up 
 arly every mornin' and walked round several 
 hours afore brekfust. By the time preachin' was 
 over at night I felt like gwine to bed. But gwine 
 to bed was no use when the others wanted to talk, 
 and laff, and drink water, and smoke seegars 
 tell nigh midnight. By Satidy night, I was about 
 twelve hours behind in sleep. The preecher 
 prayed fifteen minnits. I was on my knees as 
 every other Methdist ort to be endurin' pra'rs and 
 afore the preecher had finished that part whar 
 he was tellin' the Lord things the Lord knowed 
 long before the preecher was born, I was fast 
 asleep, and when I woke that long winded preech 
 er was givin' out his second hime and I was on 
 my knees, and some people around me was laffin' 
 at me. How mean I ,felt ! I wouldn't have had 
 Lizy to see me fer nothin' in the world. But I 
 felt pearter fer my nap. But why shoot off sich 
 long pra'rs in public? 
 
 This minds me of somethin' that happened on 
 Satidy mornin'. A preecher was talkin' bout his 
 open air preachin' on his sirkut. He said he 
 wanted somebody to splain the coincidental way 
 it was that when he would go to the place whar 
 he was to preech in the open ar the win would
 
 26 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 be shore to be blowin'. Nobody ansered him. 
 The anser popped into my head at once, and afore 
 I knowed it I riz up in meetin' and said, "I kin 
 tell you the reason, Brother; one gust of wind 
 ginerally brings on another." 
 
 But I must shove my pen aside. Its time to 
 turn in the cows from the pastur. I shorely en- 
 jyed myself at the Jedges. When I left, I told 
 him so. He said, "Don't menshun it." I said to 
 myself "I won't," but here I am tellin' all about 
 it in the Advocate. But what is wrote is wrote. 
 Mr. Edditor, what about the Temprunce Con- 
 venshun in Roily? 
 
 But I drap my pen to bid you a fond adew, 
 hopin' this will find you enjyin' of the same bles- 
 sin'. 
 
 Yours as ever, from Ebenezer, 
 
 BILDAD AKERS. 
 
 S. P. Mr. Edditor, I notice thar is a figgur 
 3 right afore the letter A in Akers on my labul. 
 Please drap it or drap my paper. Thar aint no 
 sense in havin' it thar. I told my preecher about 
 it last preachin' day, but that 3 is still thar. Drap 
 it.
 
 AFTER THE FAIR.
 
 "I'm a mighty flimsy sort of a saint, but I fight Bhy 
 of the church member whose relijun depens on whar he 
 is at." Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OCTOBER 20 IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD. 
 To Mr. Ivry, Roily, N. C. 
 
 MR. EDDITOR: I went to the Fair at Roily 
 last week. I enjyed everything I seed, tho I 
 didn't take in everything of course. I hearn that 
 thar was some strange things thar. I got home 
 on a Friday. I lowed to do a sight of work round 
 the house and barn on Satidy, but when I got up 
 on Satidy mornin' and saw how the elements 
 was leakin' with now and then a spit of snow, I 
 knowed it was all up with me about doin' any 
 work. Arter brekfust I read my Bible awhile. 
 Mr. Edditor, do you sell a good clear print Bible 
 What he writes makes intrustin' readin'. Arter 
 readin' my Bible awhile, I read the Advocate. It 
 had a good many things in it, but it seems to me 
 that Dr. Jenkins lays you all out as a writer. 
 What he writes makes intrustin readin'. Arter 
 leavin' some things to read on Sunday, I read 
 the jokes in the almanack. Jest then Lizy come 
 in, and arter goin' for me for layin' papers on 
 the floor, she said. "Bildad, you seem to be out 
 of somethin' to do. Thars some stovewood out 
 in the wet. If that doesn't suit you, why dont 
 you write another letter to the Advocate. Ef you
 
 30 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 do, be shore to tell Ben about that meanness he 
 got off about you in his last letter to the Advo 
 cate." This was enough. The writin' fire begun 
 to burn in my bones. So here I am writin' agin 
 to my paper. 
 
 I don't know what put it into Ben's head to 
 write such a letter as he last writ. Not that I 
 have anything ferninst Ben's writin'. Writin' 
 runs in the famly, you know. But Ben made out 
 that the reason I didn't go out in the kentry when 
 I went to the Deestrict was bekase I would ruther 
 stay in town with the big folks. Why, ef I had 
 my ruthers I would ruther have a home even 
 at a Deestrict in the kentry. But it ruther riled 
 me when I found out that bekase I looked like 
 a haseeder instid of one of them slick fellers I 
 was to be moved out three miles in the kentry. 
 Ben writes any way like distance cuts no ice with 
 him. Why I've saw Ben rest betwixt the eends 
 of a corn row in a acre field. 
 
 But I must tell you about our big meetin' at 
 Ebenezer. It broke three weeks ago a comin' 
 next Wensday. It helt only ten days but it was 
 a great meetin'. 
 
 The preecher druv about sun down on Satidy 
 evenin'. Who was with him but Sam Moon ? Sam 
 does beat all creashun for ridin' with the preecher.
 
 AFTER THE FAIR. 3! 
 
 The preecher says he dont care as long as it 
 gives him a chance to excuse himself from haulm" 
 wimmen. I dont like to see a preacher haulm" 
 wimmen round when they dont belong to him. 
 Our preacher is square on this pint. 
 
 Lizy always gits up a good meal for the 
 preecher. When he don't eat much she don't com 
 plain any. The first time she fed a preecher, he 
 didn't eat much. He had dispepsy. Lizy was 
 worried to death about it. I said to her, "Lizy, 
 one thing you must larn. Thar's no place a 
 preecher likes better than whar he feels that he 
 can eat leetle or much jest as he pleases and not 
 hurt the feelin's of the cook. I knowed a preech 
 er to drink four tumblers of buttermilk jest be- 
 kase he knowed that if he drunk less thar would 
 be a kind of row at the table." He come jest a 
 leetle of dyin' with the colic. Arter that Lizy 
 made every preecher who come to our house feel 
 that the eatin's was hers and the eatin' was his. 
 
 Arter supper Sam took out of his hip pocket a. 
 package of sheroots and offered one to the preech 
 er. I am so glad that he didn't take it. I dont 
 like to see preechers a-smokin'. Mr. Edditor, you 
 or some other writer spoke about preechers gath- 
 erin' in front of a Church at confearance and. 
 smokin' their seegars. Aint you mistaken about
 
 32 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 that? Have we got preachers who does that? 
 But Sam smoked his'n and squirted his ambere 
 on Lizy's hath which she had jest washed, and 
 he talked like he was one of the biggest pillers 
 in the Church. Sam is a mighty big Methdist at 
 meetin's but he dont mind goin' into a barroom 
 when he goes off to sell his terbaccer. I'm a 
 mighty flimsy sort of a saint, but I fight shy of 
 the church member whose relijun depens on whar 
 he is at. 
 
 Sam said he was a hopin' the preecher would 
 rub fire and brimstone in his sarmont the next 
 day. Why? says the preacher. At this Sam 
 scratched his head, throwed himself back in his 
 chair, squirted ambere on a nott which had jest 
 struck fire, and said, "Bekase the fellers need it." 
 The preecher said, "Brother Moon, I think you 
 have got the wrong idee about holdin' meetin'. 
 Thars always plenty of members who need re- 
 vivin'. I always begin my meetins' by preachin' 
 to the church members. In the fust place, they 
 need it as much as the outsiders. In the second 
 place you cant git outsiders to take much intrust 
 ontell they see some intrust the insiders take in 
 themselves. An alter full of church members 
 means several alters full of outsiders." 
 
 Sam went out bout this time to see bout the
 
 AFTER THE FAIR. 33 
 
 wether, he said, and I saw a kind of wink in the 
 preecher's eye. Sam kept quiet like but made 
 up fer it by naterally spilin' the next mornin' a 
 lamb quarter Lizy had lowed to use fer dinner. 
 
 But we had a good meetin'. Thar was twenty- 
 five jiners in all and they all had been to the 
 alter too. 
 
 I must tell you how our preecher tuk 'em in. 
 He read over the rules of the church and splained 
 them and said, Now, ef any of you think you 
 caint keep these rules, you had better not jine. 
 He then read the promusses and splained em so 
 that the leettlest child could sense it. When they 
 had all jined the preacher made a sollum talk to 
 the church bout holpin' the new members on the 
 road to Heaven. Thar's only one mistake the 
 preecher made, and that I have jest thought of 
 when I read what you said in this week's Ad 
 vocate. It was in not axin' each member if he 
 had a Bible and dissiplin and if he tuck the Church 
 paper. I am like you. I dont see how any mem 
 ber can get along without 'em. 
 
 Our quarterly was helt last Sundy. The Elder 
 seemed well pleased. The showin' the Stewarts 
 made were allright and I think the Elder and the 
 preecher will go up to confearance with a clean 
 sheet. Our preecher has been with us only one 
 3
 
 34 BIUDAD AKER6 I HIS BOOK. 
 
 yeer and we want him back. I expect to go up 
 to the Annual. I am goin' to take notes, and you 
 may hear from me agin. 
 
 But I must pintedly choke off this pen. Pleas 
 read this letter with care. 
 Yours so true, 
 
 With a kind adoo, 
 
 BILDAD AKERS. 
 
 P. S. If you dont mean to print that potry, 
 please send back the manuscrip.
 
 BILBAO'S FIRST VISIT TO THE "OLE 
 ROLLY."
 
 "Its a bad day when a young preecher tries to tawk 
 like his Elder. He looses his inderviduality and stunts 
 himself." Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A rap at the door, a few noisy footfalls, and 
 then was heard the sound of the clerk's voice as 
 she asked if she "could carry a message to the 
 editor." 
 
 "No message for me, gal; I'll see the edditor 
 myself. Whar's Ivry?" were the brusque, de 
 termined words of the intruder. 
 
 Going into the outer office I stood face to face 
 with Bildad Akers, the accepted friend of the 
 thirty-five thousand readers of the Advocate. I 
 had met him once or twice before and there was 
 no difficulty on my part in recognizing him. 
 
 There was a semi-sinister look on his rugged 
 face as he glanced slowly at the ceiling and then 
 at every article of furniture in the office. But 
 the ice in him thawed as he placed his number 
 nine foot on the round of the chair in front of 
 him and said in a neighborly way : "Well, Broth 
 er Ivry, I'm here at last. I have been mindin' to 
 drop in fer a long time ever sence I shuck your 
 paw at the meetinY' 
 
 "Yes, Brother Akers, glad to see you," I said. 
 "What is the news down about Ebenezer?" 
 
 But before the question could be answered I 
 asked another, which had been on my mind for
 
 38 BIUDAD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 some time: "Why in the world did you stop 
 writing for the Advocate? You used to give us 
 some good letters, and your friends have been 
 wondering at your not writing any more. 
 
 In answer to these words, Bildad spat in the 
 waste basket, squared his great shoulders, pursed 
 his lips oracularly, and, sitting more erect, said 
 in a kind of meditative way: 
 
 "I kinder knowed, Brother Ivry, that you never 
 knowed about my bein' in the bresh endurin' of 
 the last year or so. It was in the county paper, 
 but they put it twixt Jim Scalds advertisements 
 bout mules that he got sot in the colyums the 
 edittor writes, and ef I hadn't been lookin' fer 
 it I wouldn't a seed it myself. Yes, I've bin in 
 the bresh; rheumatiz for over twelve months; 
 Lizy fightin' the yaller janders ; the childern gone, 
 and nobody to write; that tells the tale. I want 
 able, but I thought I'd run up to Roily a day or 
 so any way, rheumatiz or no rheumatiz." Here 
 Bildad looked at me with reproachful eyes. 
 
 He then proceeded to tell me that he hadn't 
 come to look in on the Legislature. It was evi 
 dent that he had given the marble heart to the 
 Legislature. It was not because he had been or 
 dered down from the "loft" two years ago, but 
 because he had been rash enough to run for the
 
 THE FIRST VISIT. 39 
 
 nomination last fall and get beaten. I saw that 
 this sad culmination of his political hopes had 
 soured him against anything that would remind 
 him of his mishap. By the way, that was his 
 first and his last experience in politics. 
 
 "No," said Bildad, "I didn't go to no Legis- 
 latur last night. I went to pr'ar meetin'. I reck- 
 in that was what it was. I hearn somebody at 
 the door call it "pr'ar sarvice." But I like the 
 ole name 'pr'ar meetin'. Methdists is gittin' too 
 many hifalutin' names to suit an ole field hand 
 like me." 
 
 Bildad paused here, as if unwilling to say any 
 thing more about the prayer meeting. But I 
 wished to know what impression it had made, so 
 I said: "Well, what did you think of it?" 
 
 "I liked the preecher," said Bildad. "He had 
 somethin' good to say, an he said it like he meant 
 it. I liked the music, tho I caint say pianner 
 music sets well on my stummick, tho I sorter 
 hanker in the fall arter a steam pianny. Maybfe 
 its bekase I'm so useter Ike Tinshaw's tunin'-fork. 
 I liked the crowd what there was of it. It mind 
 ed me of the scholars that was left in Sam Perk- 
 in's school the day most of 'em run off and played 
 April fool. I couldn't holp thinkin' while the 
 preecher was talkin' why peeple in the big towns
 
 
 4O BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 dont go to pr'ar meetin' like they do in leetle 
 towns and in the kentry." 
 
 "But do you know," he continued, "that my 
 sperrits riz toward the hind eend of the meetin' 
 when I seed nice lookin' people a'comin' in. I did 
 think that they mout a looked a little shamed fer 
 comin' in so late, but then I thought that it was 
 a purty sight to see them city Methdists comin' 
 in late rather than miss the meetin'? Eudurin' 
 the last few minutes, they jest piled in, and I'm 
 blest, Brother Ivry, ef the house wasn't as full as 
 a tick in August when the preecher prayed the 
 bennydickshun. Bless my life ! I thought, what 
 furrin fan-dangled way is this, anyway, of people 
 pilin' in jest to hear the bennydickshun? But 
 then I said to myself, 'They've at least come out 
 on the Lord's side ,and they seem so peart and 
 slick diked out in their Sundy close. They all 
 peared happy to hear the last pianner note and 
 the bennydickshun. The thought made me feel 
 good, and I reckin I was too hefty with my voice 
 when they sung the doxerology, for a sollum, 
 peaked lookin' man I tuck to be a Stewart looked 
 cross-eyed at me." 
 
 Here Bildad called for a drink of water, and, 
 clearing his throat, he continued in a dejected 
 tone, after having looked around to see if any one
 
 THE FIRST VISIT. 41 
 
 else was listening. " 'Twixt you and me, Brother 
 Ivry, I sloped back to my boardin' house with the 
 wust taste in my mouth, and its thar yit. Them 
 peeple hadn't come out to pr'ar meetin' at tall. 
 They had come out to a consert that had been 
 orated to begin right arter the bennydickshun. 
 Then it seemed to me that the reason them late 
 comin' Methdists looked so peart was bekase they 
 had timed the thing so well that they succeeded in 
 missin' nearly the whole meetin' without losin' 
 the fust pianner note of the consert. Thinks I to 
 myself as I left the church without stayin' for the 
 consert, is this the way city Methdists does ? Why, 
 sich a thing as that would bust ole Ebenezer 
 wide open. Why don't they bollish pr'ar meet- 
 ins' in towns, Brother Ivry? They need a church 
 Ward Bill. It seems to me the Stewarts is wastin' 
 a heap of lights and sich on pore leetle dyin' 
 crowds." 
 
 I told Bildad it would never do for the church 
 to give up the prayer-meeting, that it is the pulse 
 of the church, and that those who regularly go 
 to prayer meeting help to keep alive the fire in 
 the spiritual furnace. 
 
 "Then," said Bildad, "ef the pr'ar meetin' is 
 the pulse of church, doctors is needed mighty bad 
 in a sight of towns and cities, and ef them who
 
 42 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 go regular are to keep the fire burnin' in the 
 f urnis, they ought to be turned off for havin noth- 
 in' to do, for thar's mighty leetle fire to keep in 
 some places and in a heap of places the bilers has 
 busted. Yes, Brother Ivry, I raly think that pr'ar 
 meetins' in some towns orter be bollished." 
 
 "What's the use," he continued, "to burn all 
 them lights, and heat up them furnises, and pay a 
 sextant to light and warm up empty rooms? 
 Don't you know that no school in the land could 
 run when nearly all the scholars are off fishin'? 
 Don't you know no factory could run when nearly 
 all the workers are settin' in their homes? Don't 
 you know no business in the world could run on 
 them princerples? Then, how kin you expect a 
 church to run when nearly all the members don't 
 think enough of a meetin' like the pr'ar meetin' 
 to go to it? The members can go to everything 
 else. Then, to think them Methdists looked so 
 proud when they scrouged in at the hind eend of 
 a pra'r meetin' to git in at the front eend of a 
 consert. What's the world comin' to, Brother 
 Ivry?" 
 
 I took Bildad in hand and weakly tried to rea 
 son him out of his pessimism and revolution 
 ary views, but to no avail. He paid his sub 
 scription, called for his garden seed, told me good-
 
 THE FIRST VISIT. 43 
 
 bye, and left to attend to some errands. But the 
 look on his face told me that he still strongly 
 believed that "in most big towns" they ought to 
 abolish the prayer meeting as something that costs 
 more than it comes to.
 
 AN INTERVIEW WITH BILDAD AKERS 
 ON A TRAIN.
 
 "Ef the pra'r meetin' is the pulse of the church, doc 
 tors is needed mighty bad in a sight of touns an' cities." 
 Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The train from Raleigh had gotten well under 
 way, and, comfortably seated, I was reading the 
 morning paper, when I heard a familiar voice 
 several seats behind me. It was a deep, rolling, 
 positive voice, which betokened the strong per 
 sonality of its owner. I turned and saw our old 
 friend Bildad Akers earnestly remonstrating with 
 the patient non-plussed conductor. The former 
 held in his hand a piece of red card board. I 
 took in the situation at once. Bildad had resented 
 the placing of the lurid slip in his hat band, and 
 the conductor was trying to explain the use of 
 the slip. But Bildad proved unteachable, and 
 the conductor went down the aisle with these 
 bass words following him: "Now, skeet on 
 friend. Ax me no questions and I wont tell you 
 no lies." The exact pertinence of the words I 
 could not determine. 
 
 Of course, I hurried back to our old friend. The 
 imperturbability of this personage denied a charge 
 of previous excitement. I grasped his hand and 
 expressed my pleasure in meeting him, and that so 
 unexpectedly. 
 
 "I've jest left my married darter's home in 
 town," said Bildad. "I went last Wensdy. Lizy
 
 48 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 lowed that I was needin' another change. I am 
 most too old to work in the field much, and when 
 I looked at cotton roots twistin' and more grass 
 growin' at night than could be killed in a day, I 
 got so blue that it seemed I had a misry all over, 
 and Lizy and the hands said: 'J est git right off. 
 We'll take care of things.' Well, I've seed the 
 day when the whole pack couldn't a druv me 
 off, but I'm not so peart as I was in my heftier 
 days, and I thought maybe a few days at Sallie's, 
 her that married Jeems Stillman, you know, 
 might drive the misry from my mind and the 
 rheumatiz from my jints. So I went over to Roi 
 ly. I didn't like to stay in town much, but I 
 enjyed myself and feel pearter than I have sence 
 Chrismas." 
 
 I ventured to ask Bildad if he had found any 
 trouble with the prayer meeting in town. He 
 evidently remembered the experience he had with 
 the prayer meeting some time ago, for a look of 
 mingled amusement and vexation passed over his 
 countenance. He hunched himself down in his 
 seat and planted his knees against the seat in 
 front, tilting the top forward in a way to dis 
 turb the occupant. He raised the car window so 
 that generous draughts of dust poured through. 
 He looked rather shamefacedly and questioningly
 
 ON THE TRAIN. 49 
 
 at the piece of red card board which he had been 
 holding in his hand, and then let it flutter away 
 with the wind. He expectorated violently 
 through the window and began as follows : 
 
 "Well, Brother Ivry, I will tell you. I don't 
 know as I orter, for you'll go and print it. I 
 don't mind that so much, but you make me use 
 bad grammar. I stood head in my class in gram 
 mar and parsed down a whole drove wunce at 
 Banks School house. But I'll tell you. I didn't 
 go to pra'r meetin' this time. But I went to 
 church a Sunday. I know our pastur in town. 
 Have knowed him sence he was a boy. He got 
 his licens at our quarterly. He has done well. 
 I broke him at once from a bad habit he tuck up 
 that of try in' to tawk with his voice like the Eld 
 er. Its a bad day when a young preecher tries to 
 tawk like his Elder. He looses his inderviduality 
 and stunts himself. My preecher has always 
 seemed to think a sight of me, and when I met 
 him tother day, I seed that a city apintment hasn't 
 spiled him. He tuk me in a store and giv me a 
 drink of fizz he called it a fosfit lemon, or some- 
 thin' of the kind, and then interduced me to Cap 
 tain White, his head Stewart. No, Jeems is all- 
 right or he wouldn't have made so all fired much 
 of an old lighterd knot like me." 
 4
 
 50 BIIvDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 "How did you like the sermon?" I here in 
 terjected. 
 
 "They didn't want me to go to the church," 
 was the reply. "You see I got up arly Sundy 
 mornin' and walked over town, it seemed to me. 
 I looked at a sight of fine hogs in the outskerts 
 of town, and after brekfust, Sallie that's my dar 
 ter said, 'Father, I want you to go to the Pis- 
 copal Church today. I want to show you the 
 finest people in town, and I want you to hear 
 jest a lovely sarvice with the finest kind of mu 
 sic." I turned to Sally and said, 'Sally Akers, I 
 brung you up a Methdist, and you are a Meth- 
 dist of the old breed now. What's this talk I 
 hear of your throwin' away your relijun and run- 
 nin' arter lovely sarvices, and finery and fuss, and 
 feathers, and sich ?' Now, I hope you've got grit 
 enough to stand by your relijun and raisin'. Sally 
 had bin tryin' to get into siety, and I knowd it, 
 and she had got her feelin's singed some, but it 
 didnt fase her, I'm sorry to say. She looked so 
 shamed that I didn't ax her any more questions, 
 but I said : 'Sally Akers, your old dad is a Meth 
 dist and he's goin to stand by his guns tell he 
 draps. He's agwine to his own church jest like 
 the Piscopals go to their'n. I never hearn tell 
 of them leavin' their church sarvices to go to 
 ether preachin' places."
 
 ON THE TRAIN. 51 
 
 "So I went, and Sally and her man went with 
 me to hear Jeems. They set furder behind than 
 me. I tuck the very front eend-bench or pues 
 as they call em. All the front-eend benches was 
 as empty as a corn crib in July. I seed the peo 
 ple was lookin' cross-eyed at me. Says I, 'All 
 them benches are resarved. I must git furder 
 back. I took a seat by Ike Payne who I useter 
 know down in Painter township. I noticed them 
 front-eend benches was empty endurin' the 
 whole sarvice, and I said to Ike, 'The peeple 
 them seats was resarved fer must have went to 
 the Piscopal Church to-day.' Ike jest smiled and 
 didn't say nothin'." 
 
 "How did you like the sermon?" I asked. 
 
 "Brother Ivry, I never critercise a rale sar- 
 mont. I never hearn none so pore that I didn't 
 git some good out of it. There was one brother 
 who come to my naborhood once that the peeple 
 wouldn't go to hear. They said he didn't have no 
 d'livery. This was so, and when I hearn him he 
 didn't have nothin' to d'liver. But all the same, I 
 managed to git some good out of him." 
 
 "Jeem's sarmont was good. He preeched it 
 like a lawyer tryin' to tawk to a Jewry. But the 
 whole thing wasn't balanced right. You know 
 what I mean. The whole thing minded me of a
 
 52 BIIJDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 little ole kite that Sally's nabor's boys was tryin' 
 to fly. The kite was not much bigger'n your hand 
 and thar was about 100 yards of tail flutterin'. It 
 wouldn't fly, of course." 
 
 "Why, Brother Akers, what do you mean?" 
 said I. 
 
 "Why, the sarmont was only twenty-two min- 
 nits long and tother sarvices was fifty minnits. 
 Now thar was too much tail, that was all. I be 
 lieve in the sarmont bein' the main thing. When 
 it's all tail it won't fly, that's all. I've got no ob 
 jection to the 'postles creed, the galory, the re 
 sponsible readin' and so forth, jest so the sarmont 
 is the main thing. They say that they've got to 
 make the sarmont short in order to have all these 
 fixins'. Well, ef that's so, let's bust up the fix- 
 ins' and have no galories and sich. These fixin's 
 and trimmin's is ruinin' the preechin' these days. 
 I couldn't sense the whole thing, but I'm not 
 sayin' anything ferninst the service any congre 
 gation wants to use, but it made me mad as fire to 
 hear Sally say that Methdists was patternin' after 
 the Piscopals, and that the Piscopals have a par- 
 fectly lovely sarvice. Preechin's is the thing 
 that's gwine to save the world. 
 
 "Now, thar was another thing that riled me," 
 continued Bildad. "Settin' on the piazzy in the
 
 ON THE TRAIN. 53 
 
 evenin' I hearn some young shavers jest gittin' 
 out of short dresses and knee britches talkin' 
 about the sarmont in the mornin'. They said it 
 was raly too long, and that it made them narvous 
 to hear a sarmont over twenty minnits long 
 (Jeems had preeched about twenty-two minnits.) 
 They said that the preacher was ruinin' his repy- 
 tashun by preachin' so long. I jest felt kinder 
 
 sick in my stummick on hearin' such talk and I 
 
 ^________ 
 
 But here the porter called Bildad's station, and 
 the conversation ceased, much to my regret, for 
 I felt that Bildad was getting to something very 
 interesting. So I bade him goodbye. He left 
 the car, sending back through the doorway this 
 rumbling exhortation: "Brother Ivry, be shore 
 to stick my name on the left hand side of the 
 Advocate instid of the right. I like it that way 
 better."
 
 BILDAD AKERS AND STREET PREACH 
 ING.
 
 "Other churches air huntin' fer the meat the Meth- 
 dists have been gittin fat on, while the Methdists air 
 strainin' with all their might to make other churches 
 fergit that Methdists ever et sich meat." Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A flaring red torch and the sound of an earn 
 est voice issuing from the centre of a crowd con 
 gested just outside of the curbing and flowing 
 in ragged waves over the sidewalk told me that 
 the street preacher was at work. I was hurrying 
 by to finish in the office a task which allowed no 
 delay, when a deep bass "amen!" smote my 
 ears. I stopped and looked over the crowd for 
 the owner of that voice which I would recognize 
 in the South Sea Islands. A second "amen!" 
 enabled me to locate the voice in front of the 
 wagon on which the singers sat and the preach 
 er stood. There was our old friend, Bildad 
 Akers, with glistening eyes and folded arms, 
 drinking in with a camp-meeting eagerness the 
 raucous exhortation of the excited preacher. 
 
 I concluded to wait until the conclusion of the 
 service, for I never miss an opportunity to meet 
 Bildad Akers when he comes to town. I had 
 only a short time to wait, however, for the serv 
 ice was about over. After the benediction I 
 passed through the scattering crowd and warmly 
 greeted our old friend. 
 
 All the warmth of Bildad's salutations is in 
 his handshake. It is never in his expression,
 
 58 BILDAD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 voice, or manner. He is a perfect stranger to 
 effusiveness aid to many appears cold and con 
 strained. After shaking hands with me, he kindly 
 introduced "Edditor Ivry" to his friend, a mem 
 ber of the police who had volunteered to pilot 
 his rural acquaintance to the northern part of 
 town. 
 
 It took me only a few minutes to relieve the 
 officer of his charge. I invited Bildad to the 
 office with a view to getting his ideas on the 
 subject of street preaching. He ventured the 
 statement that he wasn't feeling very "peart" 
 and that he didn't "care ef he did go down and 
 set a hour or two." 
 
 I gave him a seat in the best chair. He looked 
 rather contemptuously, I thought, at the pot of 
 growing ferns right under Longpre's master 
 piece, representing the Queen of the Roses. The 
 buzz of the electric fan seemed to disturb him, 
 and his remark, that he would rather "sweat" 
 in the old fashioned way than be bothered with 
 these "new-fangled things," induced me to stop 
 the fan. 
 
 "Well, Brother Akers," I ventured, "how is 
 it that you are found here in Raleigh actually lis 
 tening to the preaching in the street just as if 
 there were not plenty of churches for you?"
 
 STREET PRKACHINC. 59 
 
 At this Bildad, straightened up and shot a 
 look of reproachful defiance at me. 
 
 "Ef you want to know," he said, "why I'm 
 in Roily to-night, I will say I'm jest layin' over. 
 I've jest come from my darters and I mus hide 
 out from here gin nine o'clock in the mornin', 
 'Bout street preechin', I 'low I've got a right 
 to lissen to a sarmont wharever I kin. What 
 have you ferninst street preachin'?" Again the 
 reproachful defiance shone in his eyes. 
 
 "Brother Bildad, don't you think it is a little 
 compromising to your dignity as an official of 
 the great Methodist Church to be found in such 
 a promiscuous crowd, lending your influence to 
 irregular preaching?" 
 
 Here Bildad went to the window and expec 
 torated, leaving me in dread lest some irate be 
 sprinkled pedestrian should make us a visit. 
 Then he hitched up his chair a little nearer to 
 me, and, looking at me straight in the eyes, said, 
 "Brother Ivry, I'm a site more supprised to hear 
 sich a question from you than you are to fine 
 me lined up with a street preacher. The very 
 idee of a Methdis' puttin' on ars and lookin' 
 down on street preachin'. Why, Methdism I 
 larned it long ago was brought up on the 
 streets and in the field. My book tells me that
 
 6O BIUDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 the fust preachers had to take the streets and 
 fields to git their crowds. They had no meetin' 
 houses to preach in. It makes me sick, Brother 
 Ivry, every time I go to town to hear Meth- 
 dists who still smell of camp-meetin' straw 
 tryin' to act and talk so proper, and make peeple 
 believe that have not knowd anything scusin' 
 ristocracy, sassiety, fine meetin' houses, and other 
 sich fixins. We are scootin' a mile a minnit 
 furder from the rock which we were hewed from 
 and evry mile we go we shed a sight of speritual 
 power." 
 
 Receiving no reply from me, Bildad continued : 
 "Wasn't them peeple that was holdin' that meet- 
 in' to-night Baptises? The Baptises and Pres- 
 byteruns are goin' it hefty in the street preech- 
 in* bisness. I seed in the Advocate that the 
 Presbyteruns put a sight of money in kiverin' 
 one city with street preechers, and that the 'Pis- 
 copals which are furriners is ackshally tryin' 
 to git the Salvashun Army to jine em. Other 
 churches air huntin' fer the meat the Methdists 
 have been gittin' fat on, while Methdists are 
 strainin' with all their might to make other 
 churches fergit that Methdists ever et sich meat. 
 Now aint that a sight to make a angel weep on 
 his harp?"
 
 STREET PREACHING. 6l 
 
 "But, Brother Akers," I interposed, "haven't 
 we churches to preach in? When we spend so 
 much money to build these churches, should we 
 not use them, and when we preach elsewhere, 
 doesn't this give the people an excuse for staying 
 away from church ? If they don't come to church 
 it is their own fault." 
 
 As Bildad was getting ready to answer these 
 questions, I could see that "Brother Ivry's" stock 
 was declining in the Akers market. When he 
 did answer it was with a pitying smile, and he 
 said: 
 
 "Brother Ivry, did you ever live in the ken- 
 try?" 
 
 I admitted that this privilege had never been 
 mine. 
 
 "I thought so," he said, "or you'd never 
 axed sich questions. When my hogs and stock 
 git out and wont come back, I dont spend much 
 time puttin' corn and slops in the pen and fod 
 der and straw in the stalls, but I says to Jim 
 and Jo, 'Go out and find them hogs and steers. 
 Ef you caint drive 'em back toll 'em back.' 
 Our Saviour when He was travelin' his sirkut 
 didn't rent a little store room in the tempul and 
 put over it a board sayin', 'This is the preachin' 
 place/ but he went out atter the peeple and
 
 62 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 preeched to em whatever he could spot em, and 
 ackshally found some of the most onlikeliest of 
 em in the reglar meetin' place itself . He was 
 not ashamed to take a dry goods box for a pulpit 
 and preech in the red light deestrict of Jeru- 
 slum." 
 
 "No, sir, ef I was a preecher of the Gospil I 
 wouldn't hang around a leetle meetin' place and 
 fling out gospel truck to a leetle passel of men 
 and wimmen, but I'd mosey out and give Gospil 
 truck to peeple whar I could nail em, and toll 
 em to the meetin' place." 
 
 "It seems to me the way you see some Meth- 
 dists do that they terpret the last noration of 
 our Saviour this way: 'Go into all the world 
 and preech the Gospil to every creacher every- 
 whar scusin' in the streets and tother onregular 
 places.' I kaint find any sich words in the Bible." 
 
 "What's the church fer nohow? My book 
 tells me that its for savin' souls. Its not only a 
 horsepittle but its an amberlance waggin. If 
 it kaint git a pore wounded brat to come to the 
 horsepittle it sends out the waggin arter him. 
 That's my idee of relijun, and its pure bisness. 
 How long do you think a big holesale shebang 
 would last if it waited for customers to come 
 to it and buy. Not six months. Yit the church
 
 STREET PREACHING. 63 
 
 is spectin' to grow and flurish by settin' back on 
 its jew claws and sayin' Tve got the place for 
 you. Come and be saved, and ef you don't come, 
 may old Satin git the eendmost.' " 
 
 "Yes, Edditor Ivry, what I seed to-night is 
 cordin' to my idee. I'm nothin' but a plain old 
 rusty field hand from the kentry, but I kin see a 
 thing or two, and my 'pinion is that us Meth- 
 dists has got to git a hustle on us in our big 
 places specially, not to be more proper and have 
 better music and finer meetin' houses and sich 
 fixins, but to see that the gospil is preeched 
 to the peeple." 
 
 "Now, Bud, I must go. I've got to be at the 
 quarterly day arter ter-morrer. I haint disap- 
 pinted my elder sence I've been a Stewart in ten 
 year comin' next November. I may write the 
 paper bout the quarterly and give you some of 
 my idees bout it." 
 
 Here Bildad rose to his feet and stretched his 
 mighty frame. There was evidently on his mind 
 some question which he hardly knew how to for 
 mulate. I knew what it was, and, as he went 
 out after having bidden me adieu, I said, "I 
 agree with you Brother Akers, in all you have 
 said. You have spoken my sentiments."
 
 THE FIRST QUARTERLY MEETING OF 
 THE YEAR.
 
 "When will peeple, specially Stewarts of the church, 
 larn to make a clean square-cut sacrifice fer the Lord 
 without tryin' to grease their own waggins at the same 
 time?" Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It was a big fat envelope. It was addressed 
 in a handwriting that sprawled over half the 
 face of the envelope. The contents were seven 
 pages of foolscap, sewed together end to end, 
 with black thread. The writing had been done 
 with a pencil. There were signs of numerous 
 erasures, and the heavier black marks showed 
 the emphasis of renewed determination "to git it 
 right this time." The name "Bildad Akers," 
 squeezed into the little patch of blank space at 
 the lower right-hand corner of the last page, 
 acted like magic in driving away the frown which 
 settles on the editor's brow when he sees "bad 
 copy." Hearing from Bildad is next to seeing 
 him. So, clearing off the desk, I ripped the 
 pages apart, numbered them, and, laying them 
 in order before me, proceeded to decipher Bil- 
 dad's hieroglyphics with all the enthusiasm 
 characteristic of one who has found cuneiform 
 inscriptions among ancient ruins. 
 
 But alas! after an hour's toiling I found that 
 I could not get the article in literary shape. There 
 were undecipherable parts. I could not tell 
 whether a certain page was intended for the fifth 
 or sixth. I was in a quandary. I could not throw 
 such an article into the waste basket. To return
 
 68 BILDAD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 it would be like returning a child's gift. Be 
 sides, it showed here and there bright bits of 
 gold gleaming in the fissures of disconnected sen 
 tences and misspelled words. So I concluded 
 to give our honest rugged old philosopher a place 
 on the editorial page and let him cry some of 
 his best thought-wares from this advantageous 
 position. 
 
 Bildad was redeeming his promise to send us 
 a letter, telling of his first quarterly meeting. I 
 will use his own language, as he is very sensi 
 tive as to changes in his verbiage and spelling. 
 I have, however, eliminated many crudities in 
 spelling and punctuation. 
 
 "I got up bright and arly, Brother Ivry, on 
 last Satidy mornin' to tend the quarterly. The 
 fack that it was the fust in the year didn't play 
 any bones with me, for I've been a Stewart forty 
 year comin' next October, and I've missed only 
 three quarterlies. I tuk it that when I was lected 
 stewart, I was 'lected to be in my place. Ef I 
 was one of these Stewarts that dont never tend 
 the quarterlies and other meetin's, I would fire 
 in my resignashun. Sich Stewarts is a bain to 
 the church." 
 
 Here follow a few lines telling about the di 
 rections he gave his wife on starting, and the
 
 THE FIRST "QUARTERLY." 69 
 
 fifteen miles between his house and the church 
 where the "quarterly" was held. But I take up 
 the thread at the end of the journey. 
 
 "Brother Ivry, I never seed so many at a 
 quarterly before. Cap'n Hanks and Bose King 
 was there. Jimmy Deeton was there. Jimmy 
 had been church Confearance scribe for ten year, 
 and ef he had ever acted I disremember the time 
 but it was bekase thar had never been no 
 Church Confearance. Arter chattin' for a spell 
 with the bretheren, I seed Jimmy ride off. I 
 axed som'un whar he was goin'. Som'un said 
 'To the sale at Jink's store.' I sensed then what 
 had fetched sich a big crowd. Tryin' to kill 
 two sparrows with one rock. Mixin' relijun 
 and bisness. The crowd must have seed disgust 
 on my face. When will people, specially stew- 
 arts of the church, larn to make a clean square 
 cut sacrifice for the Lord without tryin' to grease 
 their own waggins at the same time ? That feller 
 Simon Maggut has been preechin' a fine sarmont 
 to me endurin' all these yeers." 
 
 The sermon of the Presiding Elder was very 
 acceptable to Bildad, who is truly a good judge 
 of preaching. He designated the sermon as a 
 "good old corn bread sarmont, made of water 
 ground meal."
 
 70 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 I will let Bildad tell about the Quarterly Con 
 ference in his own way: 
 
 "It was a little amusin' when the Elder arter 
 the sarmont axed the bretheren 'bout when the 
 quarterly should be helt. Cap'n Hanks and Bose 
 King and others flew up like a kuvvy of pat- 
 tridges and said they had a little bisness to tend 
 to gin 2 o'clock and they would like to have the 
 quarterly helt right away. They raly wanted to 
 git through in time for the sale at Jink's. But 
 they didn't say so. Then without givin' us blowin' 
 time, the quarterly was hooked up ready for 
 travellin'. 
 
 I wuz settin' by the winder chattin' with Jeems 
 Blacker, and I sed, 'Jeems, tell me one thing, 
 Why does Cap'n Hanks and Bose King allus 
 come hoppin' up at the fust quarterly every time, 
 and the rest of the year make themselves scace 
 as a ground hog in the winter time? Thar aint 
 a sale so nigh a quarterly every time.' Jeems 
 kinder sniggered an said, 'No, Bildad, them 
 bretheren didn't come up here to-day count the 
 sale at Jinks. They would have missed the sale 
 count of the quarterly. You jest watch em when 
 the preecher's lowance is fixed. I knowed all- 
 reddy, but I jest axed Jeems to see ef he could 
 see through a holler log."
 
 THE FIRST QUARTERLY. Jl 
 
 On the third page I managed to make out Bil- 
 dad's ideas as to the preacher's part in the fixing 
 of his salary. 
 
 "Arter the roll was called, and the scribe had 
 writ down the names, and the preacher had read 
 his report about the Lege and Sunday-school and 
 childern and sed that he didn't have no rit report 
 about the church sence it was so nigh after con- 
 fearance, and sed he couldn't give no figgers 
 of last year's work sence the minnits hadn't been 
 printed, and the Elder had giv him a reglar 
 soakin' about not havin' his report and keepin' 
 his own figgers with him, the Elder cleared his 
 throte and axed what mount had bin estymayted 
 fer the support of the preacher. Ob larnin' that 
 no meetin' of the Stewarts had been helt, he 
 said they must fix up the matter afore he could 
 go on. So the Stewarts helt a kind of meetin' 
 right jam in the middle of the quarterly. And 
 right here old Brother Reems from the lower 
 eend of the Sirkut riz and said he persumed the 
 preecher would not like to stay in. Then I riz 
 to my feet and, said, Bretheren, I can't sense what 
 this means. What does anyone want the preech 
 er to go out fer? We aint gwine to hurt his 
 feelin's. We aint gwine to buse his wife and chil 
 dern. We is jest gwine to tawk about what pay
 
 72 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 he is goin' to git from us this year. Its his pay, 
 and he has got a right to have a say so. Ef he 
 was gwine to work on your farm you would'nt 
 tell him to go out to the well and then in a few 
 minnits send out the boy and tell him arter con- 
 siderin' the matter you had agreed to give him 50 
 sents a day and his board. No, you and him 
 would fix the prise betwixt you and thar would 
 be no goin' out to the well. I move you, that we 
 let the preecher stay in and know what's gwine 
 on when his bread and meat for the year is bein' 
 fixed. They agreed to let him stay. They seed 
 I had my dander up." 
 
 "We had a long argyment over what the 
 preecher's pay should be. In that argyment Cap'n 
 Hanks and Bose King showed what they come 
 fer. They fit over it jest like two game roosters. 
 They warmed up ferninst each other like two 
 dogs on a cold day when they wus trying to re- 
 juce the pay from $700.00 to $650.00. But when 
 this went agin 'em and the pay was fixed at $750 
 arter a speech I made, they went at each other, 
 each one tryin' his levelest to keep his church's 
 sessment down to the lowest notch. Cap'n Hanks 
 wanted Bose's church to have a bigger sessment 
 that his'n, and Bose wanted the sessment of 
 Cap'n Hank's church to be bigger'n his'n. And
 
 THE FIRST "QUARTERLY." 73 
 
 so it went on betwixt them two Stewarts who 
 allus tended the fust quarterly and no more en- 
 durin' the year jest bekase they paid the biggest 
 quarterage at their church and they wanted to 
 keep it down all they could. Brother Ivry, do 
 write an eddytoral about keepin' sich skint flints 
 in the Church as Stewarts. They do nothin' but 
 make the peeple mad when it comes to payin' the 
 preecher." 
 
 Bildad said a good many other things which 
 would make good reading. He said that when 
 the question was asked the preacher did not know 
 how many Advocates were taken on the charge, 
 and that he had to make another speech in which 
 he said that he hadn't heard the preacher mention 
 the paper from the pulpit during the whole year, 
 and wondered how the people could be expected 
 to know anything about the church and get along 
 without the church paper. But Bildad would be 
 rejoiced, I know, to learn that we have very 
 few preachers like his in the Conference. 
 
 I will give the last of the letter as well as I 
 can make it out: 
 
 "Arter the quarterly was over, who should 
 come up but Jimmy Deeton, his old hoss loaded 
 down with old plows and shovels which he had 
 bought for about 75 cents. He was jest frum the
 
 74 BILBAO AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 sale. I axed him why he wasn't at the quarterly. 
 He sed, Tm not a member.' 'You are a mem 
 ber/ I said. 'Aint you Church Confearance 
 scribe ?' 'Yes,' he said. 'Then,' I said, 'you are a 
 member of the quarterly.' Jimmy said he didn't 
 know it ef he was. Then I said, 'Jimmy, there 
 are severial things you need. You need a dis-sip- 
 lin to tell you who belongs to a quarterly and your 
 church paper to tell you when your quarterly is 
 helt. You didn't know about the quarterly bein' 
 helt to-day ontell you got mixed up with us here 
 to-day on your way to the sail.' Jimmy then 
 spoke of goin' with me. I tole him I wasn't goin' 
 home that night. I was goin' to stay thru preech- 
 in' Sundy. That^s my plan and has been for 
 twenty yeer. This thing of Stewarts goin' home 
 on Satidy has almost broke up the Sundy half of 
 a quarterly. I allus stay over and tell the other 
 Stewarts to do the same, no matter ef they are 
 Sundy School Superintenders and hanker arter 
 their wives and childern." 
 
 Bildad Akers is a Methodist of the fine golden 
 type. He is not versed in the ways of the world. 
 His trousers bag at the knees, and he has never 
 yet learned to wear a cravat, much less tie one. 
 He smashes grammar in his speech. His words 
 are quaint and primitive. When it comes,
 
 FIRST "QUARTERLY." 75 
 
 though, to making a record of hearts of gold and 
 minds blessed with that rare learning called com 
 mon sense; when it comes to grading men of 
 strong faith, loyal consecration, and unswerving 
 fidelity to Right, who are heroes all in the great 
 charges on the spiritual and temporal battlefields 
 of the church, I must place our old friend and 
 philosopher among the first. He and those like 
 him are the hope of the church. May his tribe 
 increase. 
 
 Perhaps this tribute will serve to allay any 
 disappointment that may arise within him when 
 he fails to see all of his long letter in print. May 
 our readers be as tolerant as he.
 
 A REMEDY FOR A SICKLY PRAYER 
 MEETING.
 
 "Any preecher who kin fill his meetin' house at pra'r- 
 meetin' will walk round as a mighty peart preecher." 
 Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Our old friend and philosopher, Bildad Akers, 
 is fond of big gatherings, and he never misses 
 an opportunity to see and hear the celebrated 
 men of the country. I felt sure that the Bryan 
 celebration in our city would bring Bildad from 
 the retirement in which he seemingly had been 
 hiding during the summer. But I hardly expect 
 ed to see him in Raleigh a few days ahead of the 
 celebration on Monday. 
 
 On Saturday afternoon he was in the office. 
 He came in without knocking. He was without 
 collar and coat except as he carried the latter 
 on his arm and the former in the pocket of his 
 coat. I could see a limp end sticking out. He 
 returned my greeting with that composure which 
 never deserts him except when he's standing in 
 a crowd on the" street. They say that he is a 
 terrible joker when he feels that circumstances 
 do not require him to maintain his dignity. To 
 tell the truth, he is one of the men "who live 
 by the side of the road." He has the human 
 touch. 
 
 Flinging his coat on the safe in the outer 
 office, and asking me to stop that "new f angled 
 thing" which made him feel as he said "like 
 he was at Jim Sikes' planin' mill," Bildad mopped
 
 8O BILBAO AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 his perspiring face, sat down in the stenograph 
 er's chair, and fastened on me a look which plain 
 ly said, "I wonder what you are up to now?" 
 
 I first massaged his spirits with heartfelt inter 
 rogations as to his health and that of "Lizy," and 
 the "childern" now somewhat scattered. The 
 hard lines (they were on his face and not in his 
 tender old heart) softened, and when he had 
 edged his chair near the window thrqugh which 
 to expectorate, I saw that he was ready for a 
 good hour's stay with me. If he had ever 
 felt any constraint in the presence of the editor, 
 it had worn off long ago. I felt happy that Bil- 
 dad considered me a friend. 
 
 Before I had a chance to draw him out on 
 the purpose of his visit to Raleigh a purpose 
 with which I was already acquainted, he said: 
 
 "Brother Ivry, I went roun tother night to hear 
 Galbert. I had been hearin' a sight of him and 
 readin' of him in the Advocate, and I meandered 
 round to pr'ar meetin' arter supper." 
 
 "Galbert?" I said; you mean "Galbraith." 
 
 "Didn't I say it," said Bildad. "I never hearn 
 tell of your bein' deff. Galbert is the one I mean ; 
 old Brother Bernis Galbert's son." 
 
 "Well, I went round to hear Galbert at pra'r 
 meetin'. I hadn't been thar sence they tacked
 
 A PRAYER-MEETING REMEDY. 8l 
 
 on a full house consert as a tail eend to a leetle 
 two by fore pra'r meetin'. When I went in tother 
 night, I seed the house was about full. The 
 platform was kivered with boys and gerls in their 
 Sundy close and the main audytorum was filled 
 with peeple of all ages." 
 
 "I said to myself, 'Bildad, as shore as guns 
 iurn, they are gwine to have the consert fust this 
 time and pra'r meetin' arterward. You had bet 
 ter skedaddle and come back to be with the leetle 
 pra'r meetin' crowd when its turn comes." 
 
 "But afore I could squirm Galbert had started 
 a pra'r, and then the organ lady ground out on 
 the pianny a reglar old-time meetin' tune. The 
 Chairman of the board of Stewarts had somethin' 
 to say bout the fynances. Then they sung and 
 prayed. Then the Sunday-skool superintender 
 made a fine speech on his Sunday-skool. A lady 
 had a heap to say about mishuns. A young man 
 spoke on the Epworth Lege. 
 
 There was singin' and pra'r and pra'r and 
 singin' and when the meetin' busted all them peo 
 ple felt good. I felt good myself. I seed that 
 Galbert had not only got his crowd out to pra'r. 
 meetin but that he had had one of the best church 
 confearances I ever tended and all that too on 
 a Wensdy night. My friend Visuvious Moister
 
 82 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 tole me that it was allmost that good every Wens- 
 dy night. I said, 'Galbert'll do. Any preecher 
 who kin fill his meetin' house at a pra'r meetin' 
 will walk round as a mighty peart preecher.' " 
 
 "Brother Ivry, I'm goin to give you my idees 
 about gittin' the people out to pra'r meetin'. You 
 think maybe that I'm a rusty old back woodman 
 and dont keep up much with town doins'. Well, 
 thar's whar you drapped your eend of the log. 
 I manage to keep my eyes skinned, and not for 
 nothin' either. I know enough about town doin's 
 to know that a leetle bit the onlikeliest job a 
 town preecher has got is to git his flock out in 
 the pra'r meetin' pastur." 
 
 "My fust pint is that a preecher must give 
 his people somethin' when they git ter pra'r meet- 
 in'. It'll not do for the preecher to knock up 
 arter supper a few pints on one of David's Sams 
 and then try to dish em out as fried chickin to 
 the people. Them people will know the difrunce. 
 They knows the difrunce twixt sawdust and 
 brown shoogar, and don't you ever forgit it. Pee- 
 ple kin gage to the minnit jist how much time 
 a preecher spends on his little tawk. They will 
 turn out of a Sunday bekase they haint got 
 nothin' else to do or bekase they hanker to see 
 their nabors, or bekase it is expected of em to
 
 A PRAYER-MEETING REMEDY. 83 
 
 go to meetin' of a Sundy. But when it turns 
 to gittin people out of a week night, you have 
 got to promis to give em somethin'. Ef they 
 don't git it they'll not go back, and the pra'r 
 crowd must be made up of the piousest saints 
 of the church." 
 
 "Why, old Jabe Baggart used to have the aw- 
 fulest time gittin' a crowd at his corn shuckin's. 
 The nabors had no trubble, but ole Jabe used 
 to shuck his crowd tell nearly daylight bekase 
 thar was so few of them. The matter was, old 
 Jabe was so pizen stingy, he wouldn't haf feed 
 his shuckers. Late ro^en years and punkin cus 
 tards was about all the grub they got. Do you 
 wonder that his shuckin' crowd drapped down 
 to almost nothin'? They wanted good grub and 
 plenty of it arter they finished the pile. Thar 
 is a heap of Jabe Saggarts mongst preechers try- 
 in' to run pra'r meetin's that looks like a passel 
 of peeple a-settin' up with a corps. And ef a 
 preecher don't study and pray and do his allmity 
 best at his pra'r meetin' the crowd wont be thar, 
 bekase they know rashuns will be scant." 
 
 I here started to formulate my assent to the 
 philosophical remarks of Bildad, but, with a sig 
 nificant gesture, he waved me into silence, and 
 proceeded :
 
 84 BII.DAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 "My next pint is, Bud, that to have a full pra'r 
 meetin' you've got to have a vriety a mixtur. 
 People git tired of good things sometimes when 
 the're all of the same kind. There's nothin' peeple 
 likes better than a change evry now and then. 
 Even ef it is fer the wuss, the very change makes 
 it intrustin'." 
 
 "I member one year, I disremember which, 
 was a mighty blackberry year. My Lizy put up 
 a heap of blackberries and that winter it was 
 blackberry pie ontell I got lonesum. Thar's 
 nothin' better than a blackberry pie, but black 
 berry pie evry day somehow or tother makes you 
 sour on blackberries. So one day arter dinner, 
 I said to Lizy, 'Lizy, you've knowed every sence 
 we bunched rags that I haint never kicked fer- 
 ninst the eatin' department of this here ranch. 
 I ginerally eats what sets afore me. But dont 
 you raly think you've went fur enuff in this 
 blackberry pie bisness ?' " 
 
 "Lizy said nothin', but next day it was dried 
 apple pie. Now dried apple pie is a kind of God 
 Forsaken grub. Wasn't it Shakeyourspere or 
 some other high minded writer of potry which 
 
 said: 
 
 " 'Of all the grub below the skies 
 The porest is dried apple pies'? 
 
 "But do you know, Ivry, that that dried-apple
 
 A PRAYER-MEETING REMEDY. 85 
 
 pie that day tasted like poun cake, jest bekase 
 it was a change?" 
 
 "A preecher caint have the same thing at evry 
 pra'r meetin'. The grub must change. The 
 change may give porer grub, but bekase it is a 
 change it loosens up the spiritual lites and mus 
 sels, and brings the peeple back to the trawf the 
 next week." 
 
 At this juncture the foreman came to see about 
 some copy, and Bildad's preachment was cut 
 short. When the foreman left the office, Bildad 
 had evidently closed his mouth on the prayer- 
 meeting question, for not another word could I 
 get from him on this subject. 
 
 We exchanged a few views on the weather and 
 the price of cotton. Then Bildad, hitching his 
 chair nearer to mine, proceeded to ask in a slight 
 ly subdued tone if I really, thought that Mr. 
 Roosevelt's new spelling had any chance of com 
 ing into general use? I expressed myself as be 
 lieving that the whole thing was a kind of Tam- 
 O-Shanter ride along the turnpike of orthogra 
 phy. 
 
 "I dont know," said Bildad, "what you mean 
 by 'tammyshanter' and 'orthograffy,' but I'm fer 
 this here kind of spelling claws and hide. I'm 
 a kind of captin' on the subject of spellin, and
 
 86 BIL.DAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 evry thing to make people spell rite is the thing 
 fer me. I looked over Mr. Roosyvell's list of 
 words and I seed that I had been spellin' some 
 of them words all the time jist like Mr. Roosy- 
 vell." 
 
 Bildad had evidently made out his visit. Ris 
 ing to his feet, he yawned and said, "I've got 
 to break bread with my old frien Charly McCul- 
 lis to-night, so I mout as well be goin'. Our 
 meetin' begins to-morrow comin a week, and I 
 will send you a letter about it ef you spell my 
 words jest like I spell 'em. Good-bye, Bud, and 
 come out to the speakin' a Monday." 
 
 He slowly drew on his coat, and, collarless, 
 and waving a great palm leaf fan he had picked 
 up, he went down stairs to walk up street as an 
 unterrified freeman of this great country.
 
 A BEWILDERING BUT INTERESTING 
 LETTER.
 
 "Hard times in the hart and not in the craps is what 
 makes scant c'lections." Bildad Akers.
 
 v CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The personality of Bildad Akers exudes almost 
 from a sealed envelope. When, looking through 
 my mail, I came across an old-fashioned envel 
 ope, having a three-cent stamp pasted with 
 starch on the left-hand corner, and containing an 
 address written near the top to "Edittor Ivry, 
 Roily Christian Advocate, Roily, N. C.," I, of 
 course, knew that a letter from our old friend 
 Bildad Akers lay before me. Yet, independently 
 of the peculiarity of envelope, stamp, and ad 
 dress, I could have almost determined at a mere 
 glance the identity of the writer. 
 
 It took me quite a while to read through the 
 letter. Bildad's chirography is not so good as 
 he thinks his spelling and grammar to be. The 
 editor who fashioned into shape the wonderful 
 and scrappy copy of Professor Teufelsdrockh, and 
 gave us Sartor Resartus, never had on his hands 
 a bigger job than mine when I essayed to read 
 and resolve into editorial shape that marvellous 
 letter of Bildad Akers. Yet it was a labor of 
 love. I cannot publish the letter in its entirety. 
 I can give only certain extracts. 
 
 Bildad evidently made an effort to explain to 
 me why he wrote a letter instead of coming to
 
 9O BIUDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 the office in person as he had been accustomed to 
 do. I know this from the following: 
 
 "Brother Ivry, I dont pollygise for sendin' a 
 letter. It was sot in my mind to go to Roily and 
 see you and tell of our meetin' and sich jest like 
 I promussed. I done my best, but here I am with 
 pen in hand drappin' you a few lines and hopin' 
 as how you are peart and sassy and enjyin' the 
 same blessin'." 
 
 "I raly thought I would git to the Fair. I hate 
 to miss a fair. I love to see the hogs and hosses, 
 and there is only one man who enjys 'em more 
 and that is my old friend Dee Long, who was 
 once preserdent of the fare. But bout at that 
 identycle time a misery come in my jints and I 
 couldn't moove a wheel. I mean jest afore the 
 fair." 
 
 "I don't know ef I ort to tell you, but I did 
 think of goin' up on sircus day, two weeks ago 
 a comin' of a Wensdy. Of course I didnt low to 
 go in. But I have all the same a kind of hank- 
 erin' arter sircusses. I love hosses and animals 
 and brass bands. I love a steam pianny. I love 
 crouds. But do you know, Ivry, that Lizy al 
 most sprung a fit when I lowed one day I would 
 go up to Roily on Wensdy even ef it was sircus 
 day. She blazed out at me in a kind of vishus
 
 A BEWILDERING LETTER. 91 
 
 way, for Lizy never quarrels : "You're a purty 
 site, Bildad Akers, to make a sircus an excuse 
 for bein' in that sircus crowd. You're a buti- 
 full yooth to be thinking about them things at 
 your age. Edittor Ivry will be shore to find it 
 out, and how will you feel when all your friends 
 see in the Advocate that Bildad Akers was in 
 Roily of a Wensdy, and p'raps he went to the 
 sirkus, for he made himself scace about the offis ? 
 Now, how does that tech you, Bildad?' It 
 teched me nuff to keep me at home, and thats 
 how I come to be writin' this letter with my 
 rumatiz hand." 
 
 The great event of the year with Bildad Akers 
 is the "big meetin'." His heart is wrapped up 
 in his church and his preacher, and a year with 
 out a "big meetin' " at his church would be as 
 strange to him as a year without a spring or sum 
 mer. He went on to say. 
 
 "Our big meetin' has come and went. I was 
 a leetle riled at fust. The thing didn't go off 
 to suit my noshuns of sich things. We had meet- 
 in' twice a day, with dinner flung in betwixt. 
 The weather was all right and the preecher was 
 in good kilter, but somehow the folks didn't turn 
 out. Then the preecher begun to rake 'em up 
 and down the back the very fokes that had
 
 92 BIU5AD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 did their duty. What makes preechers do this 
 ennyhow ? Well, the thing went on till Chusedy 
 and thar had bin only one morner and he was 
 Jim Tarrover, who goes to evry meetin' as reglur 
 as he goes to cote to get on the jury. Jim's a 
 kinder profeshional morner. He thinks he ort 
 to go up to the alter wunce to pay for the vittels 
 he et betwixt sarmonts." 
 
 "Well, the thing went on. The preecher fussed. 
 He kept rakin' that old curry come up and down 
 their backs. Ole man Pete Hoover and Ben 
 Smith sot and seemed to try to see which could 
 squirt terbacker juce the furdest outer the win 
 der. Chuseday evenin' thar wasnt a morner. Jim 
 Tarrover had thro wed up his job. I beleeve he 
 was foundered. He snored like he was. The pee- 
 ple, what thar was of em, looked diskuraged. 
 I seed the thing was about to sizzle out, and jest 
 afore the bennydicshun I riz up in meetin', I did. 
 I ketched the eye of the preecher and I dejected 
 a few remarks, as Jim Moon says." 
 
 "Lizy looked at me like I was outer my head, 
 but I didn't never bawk. I didn't bat a eye nuth- 
 er. I said : "My frends and bretherin', a meetin' 
 is a mighty simple thing to run, not 'lowin' as 
 how I know how to run one more'n the preecher. 
 
 A meetin's jest like anything else that's got
 
 A BEWILDERING LETTER. 93 
 
 to be run with bed work. -God throo His Sperrit 
 dishes out the power, but He sartinly expects the 
 peeple to pray and work and do a site of hed 
 work. I've sot here day arter day and its come 
 to me that we've all been backard, not in preechin' 
 and singin' and pray in', but in good old hed work. 
 All of us needs more common sense, reglar old 
 stable yard sense. Brother preecher, you need 
 it the same as the ballance of us. You've bin 
 rakin' us up and down the back and not a smile 
 has lit your face endurin' all your preechin'." 
 
 "Then thar is too many rashuns et on them 
 grounds out thar. Big dinners has killed a site 
 of meetins'. Why, I can look around me and 
 kin count a duzzen men who is as scant of fisical 
 git up and git as a water logged dawg. You're 
 all jest lissen at Jim Tarrover a snorin' over thar 
 same as a fattened hog who has et too much. 
 Whar fine grub abounds the Sperrit hasn't got haf 
 a chance, and grace much less abounds. How kiri 
 peeple have a proper consarn for souls when they 
 have in 'em haf a watermillion a peace? Its the 
 flesh lustin' ferninst the Sperrit as shore as you 
 are borned. Its not as much the pride of the eye 
 by a bloomin' sight as the pride of the stummick." 
 
 "By this time even Jim Tarrover had got up, 
 and all the people was listenin'. Then I said:
 
 94 BILBAO AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 'Brethren, we've begun tootin' at the wong eenc 
 of the horn. We've bin fishin' for the out-break- 
 in' sinners and they aint here. Lets fish for 
 some of these hongry saints who is more richer 
 in full ponches than in Sperrit-filled hearts. 
 Thar's two of them over thar who aint spoke to 
 each other endurin' the meetin'. Thar's a man 
 back thar who has led in pra'r and they know 
 down at the store that he'd give a feller the thick 
 eend of the log in a trade quick'ern a nigger 
 will rob a hen roost. I sot by a man yistiddy 
 who counts himself a piller and his breth smelt 
 as strong of whiskey as the bar'l itself. You 
 wunder why we dont have the crowds. Why, 
 ef it was raly knowed that one of them saints 
 had raly confest and come out fair and squair 
 fer the Lord, the people would come here, ef fer 
 nothin' else to see how the convarted saints look 
 on a decent stummick." 
 
 "Then some of you brethren pray too long. Two 
 of you seemed to be havin a match game of it 
 yistiddy, each seem' as how he could out pray 
 the other. Rastle in pra'r with old Marster and 
 not with your feller man. Now, bretheren, let's 
 begin at the right eend. Lets do a leetle knee 
 work rite now and here and git ourselves rite. 
 I begun my tawk with the preecher, and I want
 
 A BEWILDERING LETTER. 95 
 
 him to begin now by leadin' us all in pra'r to the 
 eend that not a sinner of us leave this ontell 
 we've made it up with God." 
 
 "Well, Brother Ivry, thar was some confesh- 
 uns made at that sarvis. Some got raly happy. 
 Ebenezer Price's boy v^as convarted. The news 
 spread, and when the last day of the meetin' come, 
 the church couldn't hold all the people. Thar 
 was twenty jiners at the meetin', and I am glad. 
 You know I am." 
 
 Bildad writes for half a page about neighbor 
 hood affairs, which I omit. I must reproduce, 
 though, what he writes about his preacher. 
 
 "Our last quarterly will be helt next week. I 
 dont know how we're goin' to come out. Old 
 Ebenezer has paid out in full. This is the fust 
 year I haint had to dubble my sessment to pull 
 the church throo. A good meetin' holps a stew- 
 art more in clectin' the church dews' than all the 
 fifteen sent cotton in the world. Hard times in 
 the hart and not in the craps is what makes scant 
 'elections. I've lived many a year in these dig- 
 gin's, but I've never saw sich hard times that a 
 good meetin' couldn't pull preecher and peeple 
 throo." 
 
 "I love my preecher. I dont know whether 
 he's comin' back to us or not. I have an idee
 
 96 BIUDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 that he would do jest the kind of work that 
 is needed on a sartin big stashun I know of. He 
 needs more range for his gun. It seems to me 
 that it's mighty hard for feeld hand preechers 
 to brake into high places, and arter a high place 
 preecher has roosted high for a while its mighty 
 hard to get the Cabbynet to get him off. Now, 
 I've got a good noshun to go to Rocky Mount 
 and see Bishop Willson and tell him that old 
 Bildad Akers thinks that more of our men in 
 the woods should have a chance in the clearins'. 
 Ef more of our men in the woods was to swap 
 with men in the clearin's,the clearin' peeple would 
 have better preechin' and the woods peeple would 
 have better preechin'. Now, Brother Ivry, you 
 would call this a parryfox, but it has a site of 
 truth in it. I think thar ort to be a mighty shuf- 
 flin' round. They got David from the sheepfold." 
 But my space has run short and I must for 
 bear, with the invitation to Bildad to write 
 again. If I cannot publish his whole letter, I will, 
 at least, notice parts of it on the first page of the 
 paper.
 
 BILDAD GOES TO COMMENCEMENT.
 
 
 "Well, son, Proverdence is tryin' the grit of we pore 
 farmers these days. Craps is backard, mighty backard. 
 When I think about it, tho, I jest plunk down my 
 thoughts on all the forrerd yeers we have had, and thank 
 Ole Marster that thar are more to come." BittCad Akers.
 
 r CHAPTER IX. 
 
 There are some little sections in Bildad Akers' 
 nature which I have never been able to explore. 
 He is not a credulous being. No one is so quick 
 as he to detect the false note in another. Yet 
 Bildad is deluded into believing that his spelling 
 is at par. He claims no special knowledge of 
 grammar, but he does not relish an adverse crit 
 icism of his spelling. 
 
 An old-fashioned personality, even boasting 
 at times of moss, he manages to have a modern 
 outlook on life. He is a lively number in a de 
 corous way among the boys. Yet this question 
 comes in to perplex me : Why does Bildad, with 
 his high appreciation of epistolary experience, 
 persist in using an old goose quill, mere scraps 
 of paper, and the palest of pale ink, when he 
 writes to the Advocate? His letters, written on 
 stationery of divers hues and sizes and shapes, 
 shame even Professor Teufelsdrockh. 
 
 It is a labor to decipher his cryptographic 
 handwriting. I do not publish his letters exactly 
 as they are received and written. The best I can 
 do is to string their fragments together on a kind 
 of editorial string. 
 
 This I do with his last letter received a few
 
 IOO BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 days ago. He begins by apologizing for his long 
 silence, saying that it is the first letter he has 
 "writ sence Confear-ance." He alludes in a rem- 
 iniscential way to certain experiences at Rocky 
 Mount, not forgetting to mention the few votes 
 which he received for the editorship. Bildad 
 actually rolls that memory as a "sweet morsel 
 under his tongue." Well, so be it. If we were 
 to see things as they really are, a great deal of 
 life's glamour would be gone. Let memory have 
 her fads and follies. The stern things that are 
 suffice to drive away the ultra-sentimental which 
 truly deceives and weakens. 
 
 What Bildad has to say in connection with the 
 subject of the weather is really pertinent and 
 practical. What more practical subject could be 
 discussed just now ? It is refreshing to note that 
 his words have no pessimistic ring, as is evident 
 in the following extract: 
 
 "Well, son, Proverdence is tryin' the grit of 
 we pore farmers these days. Craps is backard, 
 mighty backard. Corn, cotton and sich looks the 
 same to me as pore leetle childern which is tryin' 
 to keep from bein hongry and cold. When I 
 think about it, tho, I jest plunk my thoughts 
 down on all the forrerd yeers we have had, and 
 thank ole Marster that thar are more to come. 
 Last yeer was the forrerdest yeer, to be shore."
 
 BILDAD ATTENDS COMMENCEMENT. IOI 
 
 "I was jest come in from drappin' corn tother 
 day and was settin' on a log nigh the spring 
 when ole Peter McGillis come from his pastur. 
 He sot down side o' me and I seed at once that 
 he was in the dumps. His lights, I know, was 
 as blew as a huckleberry. The blew run in 
 streeks thru his tawk. If a sanktyfied Methdist 
 Stewart ever come nigh to cussin' the weather, 
 Pete was the feller. I tole him he had orter be 
 shamed of himself. I axed him ef he had ever 
 starved to death. He almost wanted to make 
 me believe he had on severial casions enjide that 
 speriunce but I knowed better. I axed him ef 
 he had ever seed a yeer without some kind o' 
 craps? He got to tawkin about 1816, and I tole 
 him he hadn't never seed that yeer. I said, 'Pete 
 you ole graspin' skin-flint, you had orter to be 
 shamed of yerself. You're one of the stripe 
 which God has been so good to that they want 
 to take all that He is got and more. You are 
 like a hog who chomps his corn all rite as long 
 as the yeers are throwed to him, but ef he has 
 to wait a leetle, why then he hollers. Why, Pete, 
 you hev got the same kind of faith as a hog. 
 Can't you trust in Proverdence enough to believe 
 that the corn'll be throwed in good time. Cheer 
 up, ole man, and go to work like me. This is
 
 IO2 BIU3AD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 the third time I've drapped this corn. I'm goin' 
 to do my part, and I jest know that Proverdence 
 will do his'n." 
 
 "No, brother," Bildad continued, "its goin' to 
 take a sight more'n onlikely wether to turn my 
 lites blew and make me slip my hold on God." 
 
 "I allers fout the idee of our Sundy-scool 
 shettin' up arter the big meetin' in the fall and 
 not openin' ontell spring, or jest afore the sum 
 mer meetin's. But it dont do no good. The su- 
 perintender is allers agin me. He sez evergreen 
 scools is all right when peeple is used to havin' 
 of 'em, but they never knowed sich a thing at 
 our meetin' house, and its bad to have a suddent 
 change. It's nothin' but Simon-pure laziness and 
 no countness with our scool as I'll show you. 
 
 You know them hot days in March? Well, it 
 was sartinly sizzlin' for the sholeder of the yeer 
 down in these parts. The trees begun to bud, 
 and the gals put on their white frocks, and Ike 
 Smith got out his straw hat which he bawt in 
 Roily endurin' the Fusion Campane. It did look 
 like summer time, and afore I knowed it, they 
 had lowed it was time to start Sunday-scool agin. 
 They helt scool two Sundys, and I had got 
 a peart class. Well, the next Sundy was cold 
 and drizzly, then come them frosty nights, and
 
 BILDAD ATTENDS COMMENCEMENT. 103 
 
 shore as guns iurn, the very next Sundy they 
 lowed they had tempted Proverdence by startin' 
 the scool afore its time, an they tuk a vote not 
 to start the scool ontell they could have rale ole 
 summer weather. Did you ever hear tell o' sich 
 doins'? Hbw is ole Marster goin' to bless sich 
 hardheaded, lazy, no-count passel of Sunday- 
 scoolers? Tother day, a thinkin' bout it, I jest 
 made up my mind that scool is goin' to run all 
 next winter ef I've got to tromp snow every 
 Sundy." 
 
 It was no surprise to me when I learned that 
 Bildad had attended the commencement of Trin 
 ity College. He feels a deep interest in his 
 church and her every enterprise and institution. 
 He writes as follows: 
 
 "Lizy got to rarin' last Mondy when she seed 
 me workin' with my ole carpet bag, and a dustin' 
 up in gineral; fer I sed to her, 'Lizy, I'm goin' 
 to the exbition at Trinity College. I believe they 
 call 'em Commencements.' She allowed I'd be 
 a purty sight up thar among them big bugs." 
 
 "But I said, 'Lizy, Trinity scool is an insti- 
 tooshun of my church. I aint no bennyfactur, I 
 aint no trusty, but that scool belongs to me as 
 much as to any of them fellers. I aint got no 
 use for any Methdist which dont show no in-
 
 IO4 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 trust in his own property, and I'm agwine to 
 Durham to see what they are doinV " , 
 
 "But I went and I aint sorry a bit. They treat 
 ed me like I was a shore enuff benny factor or a 
 trusty or some feller from the north. I enjide 
 evry minit I was thar. I kept my eyes skinned, 
 too. I seed everything run as smooth as an 
 otter slide. One man of them fellers of the 
 teachin' squod tended to one thing and another 
 tended to another. There wasn't no hitch. 
 They've got the properest congregations you 
 ever seed. One night them electrissity lites 
 blowed out and everything was as black as a 
 swamp at midnight. But the meetin' went right 
 on. They didn't strike no matches and it peared 
 as ef the people was shamed even to breathe out 
 loud. Then when Jedge Bruin was makin' his 
 speech he spoke so low that them that was settin' 
 in the rare eend couldn't hear. But they did'nt 
 get onrestless, but sot with their eyes glued on the 
 Jedge." 
 
 "I was mighty glad to hear Mr. Eastgit, the 
 head of the trustys, tell of the number of pore 
 boys the college is holpin'. The college has giv 
 away $30,000 in eddication in the last ten years. 
 I was mighty glad to meet Mr. Eastgit. They 
 say he's got a kind of bunkin place all by hisself
 
 BILDAD ATTENDS COMMENCEMENT. IO5 
 
 near his town. Now, I call that a sizzlin shame. 
 Why don't he git married and carry some good 
 oman thar to his house in the woods. I saw 
 the Preserdent. He joked me like I was a kid, 
 and there aint nothin' hifalutin' about him. What 
 I seed showed me that he was tendin' to his patch 
 mighty well." 
 
 "I hearn the boys speak. I noticed that when I 
 would meet one on the scool yard he would raise 
 his hat to me. It made me feel like they was 
 trained right. But I tell you, I didn't like them 
 pigeon taled cotes they wore in the pulpitt they 
 spoke from. Sumhow it didn't jest set rite in 
 my mind. I've seed em before and it always 
 make me think that them that wears 'em has 
 been raned on. Did you ever see a rooster in the 
 rane? Sich fixins is too new for Bildad Akers." 
 
 A good deal more followed about the Com 
 mencement. Bildad was evidently enthusiastic 
 over what he saw at the "scool." He is a strong 
 believer in his College, and wants every "stew- 
 art" to go and see for himself. 
 
 But I will have to dismiss for the present our 
 old philosopher in the hope that soon we may 
 have the pleasure of seeing his face in the office.
 
 AN OCTOBER LETTER.
 
 "You preechers tawk a heap 'bout stringin' your fish 
 as soon as you ketch 'em, but what's the good of stringin' 
 'em onless you kin tote 'em home and use 'em?" Bildad 
 Akers.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The other day I fell into a train of thought 
 which came to a dead-stop in the face of the 
 wondering why I had neither seen nor heard from 
 Bildad Akers in such a long time. It was not 
 long before there lay on my desk the following 
 letter, reproduced just as it was written, with the 
 exception of a few changes in spelling and punc 
 tuation : 
 
 OCKTOBER IN THE YEER OF THE LORD. 
 
 Roily, N. C. Deer Brother 
 
 A cupple of weeks sence I was settin' on the 
 back steps a' readin' of the Advocate when I 
 come to Brother Tomas's poum. I read it thru 
 and thru, and then thru agin. I called Lizy and 
 I says, "Lizy, here's potry what is potry. Ole 
 Brother Tomas has got a hart in him. I dont 
 like his meeter and some of his words, but he 
 drives at a pint which are intrustin' to ev'ry stew- 
 art which I have been endeavorin' to be in the 
 sight of Ole Marster and men fer nigh on to 
 menny years." Lizy says, "Good sakes, man, 
 what are you drivin' at?" I says, "Lizy, this 
 poum means doin' sumthin' fer the preecher 
 sendin' him to Jeemstown exhibishun. Yes, 
 Brother Tomas is a poet which will do to stand
 
 IIO BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 up against. This Sharlit Observer caint set up 
 any of its poums ferninst it in a thousand yeer 
 or less, or perhaps more, jest as you take it." 
 
 Well, in less'n a leetle I had saw some of the 
 white sheep of our preech'rs flock and I hed 
 drawd enuff money to send our preecher to 
 Jeemstown, and, as I felt that wad in my breast 
 pocket, I said to myself 'Bildad, it was dead 
 eesy." Why in the name of all which consarns 
 preechers and sich doesn't all the peeple in the 
 Confearance do the same by their preecher ? This 
 wad felt as good as that plaster when Lizy was 
 a drawin' the pane out o' my chist last winter. 
 
 The comin' Saddy when the hands had nocked 
 off work and I was settin' on the porch readin' 
 the Advocate, I seed our preecher drivin' up the 
 lane. I let him lite afore I moved from my 
 cheer. Then I went out and said, "Wont you 
 lite?" He sed I am alreddy lit. I laffed and 
 sed, "so ye air." By this time he had unhooked. 
 I never did like to see a preecher stand by and 
 see a mail or feemail lovin' brother hook up or 
 unhook his own crittur that is which I mean 
 to say the preecher's crittur. I member once 
 we had a preecher who the fust time he come to 
 see me stood by and seed me unhook his little 
 sheep of a critter while he stood by and looked
 
 AN OCTOBER LETTER. Ill 
 
 lite a lord or some kind or a captin' jest like I 
 who was goin' to feed him and bed him fer the 
 night was paid to do the hookin'. I said to Lizy 
 arter we had went to bed that night, "Lizy, that 
 new preecher is simply goin' to pop caps en- 
 durin' this yeer. He's not goin' to do any rale 
 shootin'." "Why," says Lizy. "Bekase," I says, 
 "he hasn't got gumpshun enuff to lode his gun." 
 Well, I was right. That preecher calc'lated afore 
 the eend of the year that he would stop preechin' 
 and go off to some furrin skool. 
 
 But I am off the track, as Sim Smith said 
 when he run up one night ferninst a skunk den. 
 Our preecher which now is aint that sort of a 
 man. He aint above waitin' on hisself and he 
 don't low peeple to make compny of him. He 
 jest sails right in and takes charge of the prem 
 ises. That's why I like him and stand by him, 
 which is to say this is one of the reasons among 
 his many good pints. 
 
 I said, Bud, go in. Thar's some lie sope out 
 at the well ef you want to wash yourself, and I 
 speck you do. Then I went to Lizy and tole 
 her to nock up sum grub fer supper, the preecher 
 had come. I told her she needn't fix a weddin' 
 spred. The preecher wasn't used to it at home 
 and I have knowed many a preecher to spile a
 
 112 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 sarmont fer the next day by eatin' too many 
 good vittels on Saddy night away from home. I 
 knowed a preecher to brake up a pertracted meet- 
 in' to begin on Sunday by eetin' of a whole 
 chickin the night afore. So, I says, Lizy, dont 
 spred yourself. Lizy lowed she knowd what she 
 were doin'. I never have got Lizy so she wont 
 jaw back. He didn't eet so harty, but I seed it 
 was bekase he wasn't so peart as common, tho 
 I'm not sayin' that he was porely. But I didn't 
 much him enny to get him to feed. You see 
 some peeple have got a way of muchin' a preech 
 er at the table to get him to eat jest like you 
 much a dawg. The best plan is to let one have 
 the whole trawf and then eat or not eat without 
 any words of mine. Ole sister Simpson once 
 nigh kilt a preecher by makin' him drink four 
 tumblers of buttermilk, just cherned, when any 
 Christian ort to have knowd that one tumbler was 
 enuff for a man that had dispepsy. Now Tom 
 Buston can chamber a whole quart of sweet or 
 sour milk, for he haint got neither stummick or 
 conshuns. But don't much a man at your own 
 table to git him to eat harty. 
 
 I seed arter supper that the preecher had the 
 blews. Now the blews with a preecher is wuss'n 
 the meesuls that is fer his peeple. How he
 
 AN OCTOBER LETTER. 113 
 
 kin go from Jineary to Jineary, lookin' and feelin' 
 like he was at a buryin', and keep his flock from 
 goin' to peaces like a gang of bull yearlins whar 
 there is yaller jackits is mor'n I can tell. So I 
 felt a pitty like fer the preecher when I seed he 
 was down in the mouth and I tride to find out 
 whar the mizry were. 
 
 One thing I found out, was when he got to 
 tawkin' about the meetin' he had jest helt. He 
 says, "Brother Akers, we tuk in a big class and 
 the peeple seemed so pushed up and zellus. But 
 last preechin' day there wasn't as many as com 
 mon. I thought shorely thar'd be more. Why, 
 not one-half the convarts was thar." I looked 
 round to see ef Lizy was still a' reddin things 
 up in the kitchin. I never like to critersize things 
 when she is around, but the time had come fer me 
 to open my mind even ef it wouldn't pull the 
 preecher up frum way down in his mouth. I 
 says, bruther, I think you are a leetle to blame 
 fer all of this. As shore's you're born you 
 preeched endurin' the meetin' jest like peeple 
 should be convarted to have a good time escapin' 
 hell and rejoicin' in havin' their sins fergiven. 
 When you tuk the convarts in you went thru it 
 as fast as Pete Bunn rattles thru the town streets 
 jest to show off them fine mewls of his'n. Them 
 8
 
 114 BIIvDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 convarts went from that meetin' with the idee 
 that they had escaped hell and all they was to do 
 was to wait for the jumpin' off time when they 
 would land rite in Heaven with a crown on 'em. 
 Why didn't you make that takin' into the church 
 sarvice the longest and best sarvice of all and 
 explain that sence God had fergiven their sins, 
 and they had jined the church, it was on purpose 
 to make 'em more useful to the church and the 
 world. Them jiners was jest spilin' for the rite 
 kind of preachin' when they was tuk in. Them 
 gineral rules and vows ort to hav tuk an hour or 
 so in explaining but here you went, as I said, 
 like Pete Bunn and his mewls, and them jiners 
 some of em are wonderin' now what they ever 
 jined fer. You preechers have got to preech 
 more that relijun is not so much enjiment and a 
 roarin' big time as it is tryin' to do good and help 
 other peeple. Thar's ole Pink Beasly who is the 
 selfishest old critter in these diggin's, and he 
 never darkens the door of a church. But he's 
 no wuss than a church member whose only idee 
 of relijun is that it is to make him feel good and 
 shout and lay on the bosom of his Saviour. Ole 
 Pink and this kind of a perfesser should be tied 
 together and preeched to a whole week on the 
 sin of selfishness. You preechers tawk a heap
 
 AN OCTOBER LETTER. 1 15 
 
 bout stringin' your fish as soon as you ketch em, 
 but what's the good of stringin' 'em onless you 
 kin tote 'em home and use 'em? Yes, Bud, you 
 have got to teech your peeple more what relijun 
 is, and then you won't have so much trubble be 
 tween your big meetin's. The preecher lowed I 
 was rite and said he thanked me. 
 
 But the preecher wasn't out of his blews. I 
 seed he was still bothered. He tole me bout 
 bein' up at Roily mindin' his own bizness, and 
 then he stopped and said, "Brother Akers, why 
 is it I caint go anywhar without bein' looked 
 at and tawked about as a preecher. They spot 
 me ev'ry time as a preecher, even when I don't 
 say a word, but jest wawk along the street. I 
 am not ashamed at tall of bein' a preecher, but 
 it kinder riles me to have 'em spot me every time. 
 I want 'em to know I'm a preecher by what I do 
 and say, and not by how I look. What is there 
 bout me to tell a man who never seed me or 
 hearn tell of me afore to glue his eyes upon me 
 and say, "Thar goes a blamed preecher?" 
 
 Well, I jest laffed and laffed when the preecher 
 out with this, and I called Lizy out to laff with 
 me. I sed, Brother, you are in a bad way when 
 you are so upsot by what strangers say and 
 think. I'm glad you don't mind bein' knowd as
 
 Il6 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 a preecher, and are proud of it. But you struck 
 the nail on the head when you sed you want 
 peeple to know you are a preecher by your life 
 and not by your looks. I'm afeared, Brother, 
 you preechers are too preecherfied. You wawk 
 like it, you look like it, you dress like it. A 
 preecher is only a man, and ef he does much 
 with men, he's got to show em he's of the same 
 breed. Ef they git the idee that he's a cross 
 betwixt a mail and a femail pusson he's gone as 
 fer as his usefulness is consarned. Thar's no 
 sence in a preecher wearin' the graveyard look 
 and that femail meekness. Then why in the 
 name of common sence do you wear that westcut 
 buttoned up to your neck or that preecher coat 
 when you air out amongst men ? I like to see a 
 preecher drest a sartain way when he is in the 
 pulpit loft, but out of the pulpit loft he should 
 dress like tother men scusin' the time when some 
 of 'em wear them things they call full dress. I 
 never seed a man in one of 'em that he didn't 
 look like a rooster jest come in out of the rain. 
 A preecher in a spike-tale! If you have been 
 indulgin' in sich you have cause to feel blew. 
 Be like other men in look and walk and dress. 
 Thar's George Smitt, one of the best preechers 
 in Ihe land. When George is out on the streets
 
 AN OCTOBER LETTER. 117 
 
 they take him fer ennything from a prise fiter to 
 a Guvnor. He's my idee. 
 
 Brother Ivry, I tawked to our preecher tell 
 nigh onto midnight. I haint room to tell you 
 all he said and I said. But ef I didn't git him 
 out of the dumps by what I said, I done the work 
 when I pulled the wad out o' my pocket and tole 
 him his peeple wanted him to go to Jeemstown. 
 I am ever in truth 
 
 In the blume of yooth, 
 
 BILDAD AKERS. 
 
 You haint had no sirkus up to Roily yet. I 
 never tend 'em, but I like to be in Roily on that 
 day to see the perade and heer the steam pianny. 
 I am gittin' ready to go to Confearance.
 
 BILDAD AKERS AT THE ANNUAL CON 
 FERENCE.
 
 "That Laymun's meetin' means that the laymun is 
 edgin' down toards the big eend of the lawg and givin' 
 the preecher a longer hanspike." Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "Is Editor Ivry in here ?" were the almost gruff 
 words that came rumbling into the inner office 
 and smote the ears of the editor as he sat at his 
 desk recording sundry changes in the Quarterly 
 Conference dates as ordered by the Presiding 
 Elders. 
 
 The reply of the clerk in the outer office was 
 indistinct, but not so the rejoinder of the ques 
 tioner, who positively avowed that he would "see 
 Editor Ivry, busy or no busy." 
 
 Before the editor had time to rise and go out 
 to greet the one whom he knew at once to be his 
 old friend, Bildad Akers, this privileged indi 
 vidual had swept the pile of morning papers 
 from the couch reserved for weary Methodist 
 saints and had sat down, after hanging his hat 
 on the projecting electric light globe. Bildad 
 Akers is one not given much to shaking hands, 
 an art which should be cultivated by every one. 
 
 "You're as hot in here as a brick kill," said 
 Bildad. 
 
 The explanation was made that the limited di 
 mensions of the office make it very easy to over 
 heat the atmosphere. 
 
 Bildad rushed to the window and raised the
 
 122 BIU>AD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 sash, and the arctic air gushed in, to the evident 
 delight of the visitor, who made an inconse 
 quential remark about these "city fellers not 
 knowin' what good healthy arr air." 
 
 Of course, the usual preliminary social passes 
 were made, and the editor advanced to the sub 
 ject which was interesting to him then Bildad's 
 visit to the Annual Conference. The mention 
 of the subject brought an increment of anima 
 tion, to his face and voice. 
 
 "Yes," he suid, after emptying his coat pocket 
 of an encumbrance in the shape of a pint of cot 
 ton seed which he scattered over the rug, "I 
 promussed to write you a letter, but I lowed sence 
 I had to come up to the Federul cote, I mout as 
 well drap in N and tell you in pusson about my 
 idees of Confear-ance. But you must ax me 
 bout things. I've talked so much to Lizy and 
 the nabors about my sperunce at New Bern that 
 my idees has got all tangled up like cuckley burs 
 in old Sim Galoosh's cow's tail." 
 
 "Well, Brother Akers, did I treat you white 
 down there?" 
 
 A kind of apologetic look broke over Bildad's 
 face as he said: "Ivry, Lizy was so scairt that 
 I would go down thar and make a fool of my 
 self and talked so much about wearin' the right
 
 ANNUAL CONFEiREjNCE. 1^3 
 
 kind of collers, neckerchies, and sich duds, and 
 'bout eatin' and sleepin' and talkin', that I got 
 gumflustered and writ you that little note in the 
 Advocate bout havin' you to tie on to and sich. 
 Bout the fust pusson I seed when I struck New 
 Bern dirt was my ole friend George Smitt, who 
 I lowed had forgot me. He seemed as glad to 
 see me as a hoss is to eat green grass. George 
 was onusally clever all thru. Yes, I'm much 
 obleeged to you. You give me some good idees 
 and pinted out and interduced me to a likely 
 passel of people. Bob Phillups done himself 
 proud by me and had me set in his offus a cupple 
 o' times. Hie was in that singin' gang and axed 
 me up thar in that pen ferninst the organ, but I 
 didn't want to make a fool o' myself. That gang 
 sartinly kin sing." % 
 
 "You axed me how I liked New Bern. Now, 
 I aint a jedge of *seafarin' towns, but New Bern 
 is a purty town in the day time 'ceptin' thar is 
 too much of a smell of yoisters and sich truck 
 down on the water. I low them people is used 
 to the smell. The people was sartainly kind and 
 hospittable. They make a heap of a feller when 
 he comes and goes, and, twixt the two, I had a 
 site of invites. I et tell I was shamed of myself, 
 and I know Lizy would have said I tawked too
 
 124 BILDAD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 much with my mouth. They axed me a heap 
 about myself. I didn't know so many was in 
 trusted in my letters to the Advocate. One man 
 axed me whar I larned to spell. He peared to 
 be throwin' off on me and I tole him I was 
 larnin' the dawg latin at the eend of the book 
 afore he had got to Baker, and it 'ud take a 
 hunderd of him to make one Danuel Webster 
 or Noehy, which is it? I disremember." 
 
 "I were glad to meet Brother Beeman. They 
 say he cuts a hefty swoth when he preeches." 
 
 "You see I didn't hike down to New Bern 
 jest fer the fun o' the thing. I had larnin' in 
 view. I had been to the quarterlies and dees- 
 tricts, and you know I went to the gineral, which 
 was a cuckly bur affair when it come to gittin' 
 the heads and tails of it. But I wanted to see 
 an Annual agin. I seed it and I aint sorry. I 
 larned sights and the nabors come yit to git me 
 to tell about it." 
 
 "I could sence the meanin' o' them preechers 
 as they stood on their feet and tole what they 
 had did endurin' the yeer. I felt like shoutin' 
 out in meetin' like old sister Bullikins when them 
 preechers spoke about havin' so many good meet- 
 in's. I had hearn tell bout Bishups puttin' on 
 the screws and squeezin' out o' the preecher
 
 THE ANNUAL CONFERENCE. 12$ 
 
 what he knowed bout liftin' c'lections and sich, 
 but I didn't hear no sich tawk from Bishop Gal- 
 lerway. I was supprised a site in him. He 
 jest seemed like one of the preechers. He didn't 
 tawk or look or act biggoty a bit. I spected him 
 to storm like blue blazes at times, but he was as 
 kind and gentel all the time as ef he wasn't a 
 Bishup. I hearn him preach a Sunday and I 
 jest know ef ole sister Bullikins had been thar 
 she would have histed the ruff. You give me a 
 knock-down to him, and he sed he knowd me 
 allreddy. When I tole Lizy that, she said it don't 
 take much sense to be knowd by furriners, and 
 that I knowd Jim Branch's hawg that was allers 
 breakin' into other people's patches better than 
 I knowd my own hawgs. What you reckon she 
 were pintin' at?" 
 
 At this juncture Bildad remarked that it was 
 "sprizin' how hot these offusses git," and unbut 
 toned his vest. The raising of a window in the 
 outer office allowed a current of cold air to join 
 the gush which came through the window of the 
 office in which we were sitting, and Bildad was 
 more comfortable. 
 
 "Outside of the Conference sessions, what most 
 impressed you?" was the editor's question.
 
 126 BILBAO AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 "What most which?" said Bildad. "See here, 
 Ivry, you mus use plain language." 
 
 The form of the question was changed, and 
 Bildad proceeded to say that he was very much 
 "intrusted in the Laymun's meetin' and the Jint 
 Board of Finances." 
 
 "That Laymun's meetin'," he said, "means that 
 the laymun is edgin' down toards the big eend 
 of the lawg and givin' the preecher a longer 
 hanspike. The preechers has had the big eend 
 all the time and a short hanspike I mean as fur 
 as ennything scusin' preachin', prayin', visitin', 
 and sich air consarned. I jined the move-ment, 
 and ef I kin I'm agwine to Chattynoogy. I 
 hearn tell of severial preechers who was ferninst 
 the move-ment. Them preechers mind me of a 
 dawg I once seed who had broke its laig. He 
 was in a seller and wouldn't low nobody to come 
 through the door to help him without snarlin' and 
 snappin' at him. You sense the pint?" 
 
 "Now as to the Jint Board of Finances ; I was 
 jest amazed and thrumscuttled at the idee of them 
 men of bisness leavin' their homes and givin' all 
 that time to riggers and seein' nothin' of Con- 
 fearance and all fer nothin' at that. It made 
 me feel prouder than ever that I was a Methdist 
 Stewart who had plowed his row straight all
 
 THE ANNUAL CONFERENCE. 127 
 
 these years and had never grumbled when the 
 plow struck roots." 
 
 "Now you ax me what I thought bout the new 
 church. It was sartinly a whopper. Did you 
 ever see anything like it? I tole Lizy and the 
 nabors all about them big jists under the ceilin' 
 and the shinin' winders, and the rooms and the 
 kitchin whar evry thing was ready for the fire, 
 and them candles that burnt and burnt and 
 wouldn't burn down and drap taller, and how 
 the sextant would take a blazin' fish net and light 
 'em, and bout the big drap from the front eend 
 of the church to the pullpit, and how they splice 
 the pulpit jest like a table, and so on, and so on. 
 I beleeve in my soul that even Lizy didn't swal- 
 ler half of what I tole about that church." 
 
 "But, Ivry, I beleeve ef I was a cussin' man, 
 which I'm glad I've got too much sence and grace 
 to be indulgin' in, I would a cussed when my 
 eyes lit on a sight on Monday mornin'. I stood 
 in front of the church and I seed whar that purty 
 rock floor was all gawmed up with terbaccer 
 juce and I beleeve in my soul I could have counted 
 five hundred seegar eends on the grass. Then 
 the sextant tole me how some had spit great 
 gobs of terbaccer terbaccer, mind you with the 
 dentical juce on that purty carpet inside. I
 
 128 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 tell you it made my blood bile when I looked at 
 the frunt of the church and hearn the sextant 
 tell what he done about the inside. I jest caint 
 beleeve it was Methdists which was gilty of 
 treatin' them kind New Bern peeple and their 
 church in that way. Ef people is bound to chaw 
 and smoke, in the name of all that is good and 
 clean and holy, let 'em keep away from the 
 meetin' house to do it. I aint nothin' but a plain 
 ole codger, but I know what's due God, and man, 
 and wimmen. But I caint beleeve it was Meth 
 dists that done it. It must have been some fur- 
 rin crowd." 
 
 "Yes, I come nigh fergittin to tell you that 
 I had my likeness tuk in that crowd and " 
 
 Then Bildad suddenly asked the editor what 
 time it was. Hearing the reply, "10:30," he. 
 jumped up suddenly and rushed out of the office, 
 leaving as an explanation of his unwonted de 
 parture only the words, "And cote's in seshun, 
 too."
 
 BILDAD AKERS ATTENDS A PROHIBI 
 TION MEETING.
 
 "An' I tell you, when you see church members a-tawkin 
 an' a-votin' agin prohibishun you set it down that in 
 ninety-nine cases outer a hunderd the whole kit and 
 bilin of 'em naterally likes the stuff." Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The prohibitionists of Wake County met on 
 Thursday to effect an organization of the county. 
 I was not at all surprised to see our old friend 
 Bildad Akers sitting well to the front. He always 
 likes to be found in good company. I was some 
 what astonished at his dress. He wore a long 
 black Prince Albert, as full of wrinkles as if it 
 had made a trip across the continent in a tightly 
 packed valise. I was sitting near enough to him 
 to perceive that the coat was fastened with a 
 big brass pin. The button had doubtless per 
 ished among the things of the Long Ago. I 
 could almost catch the scent of gasoline coming 
 from that ancient be-wrinkled coat. Then won 
 der of wonders ! Bildad wore a standing collar 
 whose edges nearly touched his ears. I had 
 never seen him before wearing such a large store 
 collar. I found myself losing the thread of a 
 vociferous speech in the mental questioning as to 
 the wherefore of that outre "rig" of Bildad's. 
 He had evidently slipped away from home. 
 "Lizy" would most certainly have made some 
 changes in his toilet. 
 
 I had not long to wait, for I had to leave the 
 meeting before adjournment and finish some
 
 132 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 work in the office. I was not surprised when, 
 after I had been seated at my desk for perhaps 
 fifteen minutes, I heard the rumbling words in the 
 outer offijce, "Gals, whar is Ivry?" I rushed to 
 the door and greeted our old friend. I asked him 
 to be seated in the large chair. He said that he 
 would find a seat for himself, and I barely saved 
 him from sitting on the newspaper rack, thus 
 saving the rack from dire calamity. 
 
 But that "get up" in the way of dress ! In 
 terrogation points must have been in my wel 
 coming glances, for Bildad at once said: 
 
 "I tole Lizy yistiddy that I was agwine to the 
 prohibishun meeting' at Roily to-day. She said, 
 'You are not gwine in them duds.' I said, 'Lizy, 
 I haint got no more, and I haint gwine to buy no 
 more.' 'Why, laws sake, she sez, 'whar's them 
 weddin' close? They're as good as new, and 
 you haint worn 'em sence Squire Blake's funeral.' 
 So she went and got em out and cleaned 'em. 
 They was done up in moth balls and sich, and 
 I reckin they do purty well, but I feel purty 
 quare." 
 
 Here Bildad elevated his chin, jerked his head 
 to one side, and said: "Brother Ivry, I beleeve 
 I will pull off this here collar. It's cuttin' my
 
 THE PROHIBITION MEETING. 133 
 
 yeers allmost as bad as that barber done when 
 I got a hair cut in Roily a few years ago." 
 
 I told him to adjust his toilet as it seemed best. 
 In a few minutes, coat and collar and brass pin 
 were tumbled in a heap on the newspaper rack. 
 
 I, of course, wanted to know what Bildad had 
 been doing since Conference. He seemed more 
 than usually talkative. He told me about his 
 farming operations, his combat with a teacher 
 who vowed he would not have the Bible read in 
 the Mill Hill school-house, and other things. 
 But he showed his deepest interest in the "Fust 
 Quarterly." I had heard how he had downed 
 Bill Rollins, the steward, who had made a won 
 derful speech against raising the preacher's sal 
 ary; so I asked Bildad to tell me about this. 
 
 "Well, it were this way. You know at the 
 fust quarterly, a yeer ergo last month, we histed 
 the salary jest one hunderd dollar. I knowed 
 then it wasn't high enuff, but I thought we 
 would hist it still more this yeer. When I plunked 
 this question right betwixt the eyes of them stew- 
 arts, I seed the fire rise in Bill Rollins' eyes. I 
 knowed he were in for a speech. He riz and 
 said that it was gittin' time to stop sendin' peeple 
 to the pore-houses jest to make preechers rich. 
 He was agin any rise. He said the preechers is
 
 134 BILBAO AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 extravigint. He said he seed our preecher warin' 
 of store cuffs on a week day, and that, when he 
 et dinner at the preecher's house on that day, they 
 ackshully had a new fangled pie on the table and 
 that he counted two newspapers and magazeens 
 in the house, and that one of the leetle girls had 
 on a brest pin. All this while the pore peeple 
 was a settin' and bustin' to rake up enough money 
 to pay his salary." 
 
 "Edditor Ivry, I was a layin' for Bill. I tole 
 him he was a reglar church hawg. Here he was, 
 livin' in a good house, on a thousand acre of land, 
 with money in the bank, and eetin' sassage every 
 day in the winter and ham in the summer, and 
 feedin' on the fat of the land, when I knowed 
 that ef the preecher and his famly lived half as 
 well we would have to add a thousand dollar to 
 his salary. 'You're a purty thing, Bill,' I sez, 
 'and you ort to go and crawl under the meetin' 
 house with the balance of the hawgs. Coin' to 
 a man's table and chamberin' his eetin's and 
 smackin' your lips over them pies and then comin' 
 here and faultin' the preecher and his family for 
 feedin' you like they hadn't bin feedin' them 
 selves sence the elder was thar.' Well, I dont 
 know what else I said, but they made a rise to
 
 THE PROHIBITION MEETING. 135 
 
 the tune of another hunderd dollar. An we're 
 gwine to do the same thing next yeer." 
 
 In the course of my conversation with Bildad, 
 I remarked that I had heard that he intended 
 going to the Laymen's Conference at Chatta 
 nooga. 
 
 Here Bildad threw into the waste basket a 
 moth ball which he had discovered in his vest 
 pocket. He expectorated vigorously and rasped 
 out : "Ivry, why dont you let more ar in this here 
 room? How do you live without ar?" Then 
 he told me about his Chattanooga trip. 
 
 "You see, Edittor Ivry, I am mightily intrusted 
 in this here Laymun's Moovement. Right down 
 on our sirkit I've seed more downright laziness 
 and general no-countness to the duzzen than you 
 could measure in a yeer. We've got members 
 who could be a bloomin' power ef they would 
 only git to work. The trouble is they dont know 
 how, and a heap of the preechers dont tell 'em 
 how. Why, the preecher adjinin' our work (and 
 it's a countryfied lay out ef ever thar was one), 
 that preecher is ackshully holdin' mishunary 
 classes at his churches and puttin' all of 'em to 
 work. I dont take much stock in this cry that 
 bekase its in the kentry you caint have all of
 
 136 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 them men and hifalutin' things they have in the 
 towns." 
 
 "But as I was sayin', I pintedly wanted to go 
 to Chattanoogy, and raly made up a little speech 
 I wanted to spout off, but Lizy made out she was 
 so afeared that Chattanoogy was too furr off 
 fer me. She said I'd git lonesum, and that ef 
 it hadn't been fer you and Bob Fillups at New 
 Bern I would have disgraced the whole kit and 
 bilin' of the family. Not that she's afeared I 
 could do anything scandlous or mean, but that I 
 jest haint got enuff sence to take keer of myself 
 amung furriners and see-farin peeple. So I gess 
 I wont go to Chattanoogy. But it's agwine to 
 be a great meetin' and I jest feel I could tell 'em 
 somethin' that would go to the jints and marrow 
 of the Church." 
 
 Of course I wanted to know something about 
 the chances of a prohibition victory down Bil- 
 dad's way. The old man was on the alert in an 
 instant. He sat more erect in his chair, and it 
 was evident that I had broached a live subject. 
 He said with much feeling: 
 
 "I'm a leetle mad yit about us havin' to have 
 that lection. Them legislaturs dried nearly the 
 whole State and then, when we prohibishuners 
 wanted 'em to finish the bizness, they said, 'No
 
 THE PROHIBITION MEETING. 137 
 
 sirs, it will be ruinin' the State not to give the 
 peeple a chance to vote. You mus now take 
 keer of yourselves.' Apd we are gwine to take 
 keer of our selves." 
 
 "We got a whole passel of church members 
 down our way who tawk mighty big bout pro- 
 bishun takin' away their freedom. An this makes 
 me sick. When a church member gits to tawkin' 
 and votin' with the peeple who dont keer a rap 
 for the church and its teechin's, its a bad day that 
 we have lit on." 
 
 "I was at Sike's store tother day. Lishy Penn 
 come along with a slick lawyerfied lookin' feller. 
 I says to Sikes, 'Who is that?' Sikes sez, 'He is 
 the feller from Wilminton which have come to 
 work up this section fer licker.' Lishy was a 
 interducin' his slick friend to different ones. I 
 noticed he dodged me, but I overhearn him say 
 to Jim Peeler, 'Let me interduce my frend. He's 
 lectioneerin' agin prohibishun. I don't believe, 
 Jim, in licker, but I do believe in pussonal free 
 dom, and that is what prohibishun will take away 
 from us.' This was too much for Bildad Akers. 
 I steps up and says : 'Lishy, a-beggin' your par 
 don, it's the pussonal licker you love, and all 
 the pussonal freedum you want is the pussonal 
 freedom to keep on drinkin' that pussonal dram
 
 138 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 on the sly.' Then I left Lishy and his frend, 
 as our preecher says, to their roominashuns. An 
 I tell you when you see church members a tawkin' 
 and votin' agin prohibishun you set it down that 
 in ninety-nine cases outer a hunderd, the whole 
 kit and bilin' of em naterally likes the stuff. So 
 I beleeve about the only thing that can bring 
 over sich members to probishun is a good old 
 case of relijun." 
 
 "We're gwine to work mighty hard to put up a 
 good vote for prohibishun down our way, but I 
 tell you, you must take your speekers away from 
 the towns and put 'em in these kentry places 
 where they're most needed. They may not be 
 as well fed, but they'll do more good. All us 
 kentry peeple need is to be tole the right way, and 
 we're ginerally ready to take it." 
 
 Here Bildad stopped his conversation and 
 asked for coat and collar. Putting on that collar 
 was a mighty labor, but it was at last performed, 
 and, with a promise to write a letter to the Advo 
 cate before summer, Bildad departed, leaving a 
 faint odor of gasoline in his wake.
 
 ANOTHER WONDERFUL LETTER.
 
 "Some preechers who set meek and quiet like in the 
 settin room a-waitin' fer 'em to come in, and feelin' 
 that they air a plum needcessity to the fambly ort to 
 git jest one square look at the face of the dear sister or 
 brother and ketch what they say at the back door." 
 Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Very often the linotype operator comes into 
 the editorial office to gain information concern 
 ing the meaning of certain marks intended to 
 represent words. Sometimes the information is 
 imparted ; at other times, the operator is sent back 
 to the machine with instructions to use his best 
 deciphering knowledge and trust to Providence. 
 Many of our correspondents have never been to 
 a writing school. 
 
 Occasionally, the linotype man is not after in 
 formation as to the meaning of marks and 
 scratches. He wishes, simply, in the politest 
 manner possible, to convey the idea that the 
 article in his hand has accidentally slipped 
 through the editorial fingers to the keyboard of 
 the machine instead of into the waste-basket. A 
 mild reproof, of course, is intended by the lino 
 type man no suggestion that the editor does not 
 know his business. 
 
 "You did not intend to have this published, 
 did you?" said the linotype man through his 
 agent, the foreman, the other day as the editor 
 was trying to locate the psychological element in 
 that wonderful victory at Denver in which the 
 delegates actually "hollered" for Bryan longer
 
 142 BILBAO AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 than the Chicago delegates for Taft by at least 
 one-half an hour. 
 
 The editor turned and saw a half dozen pages 
 of writing paper, sewed end to end with black 
 thread. One end of the long ribbon was in the 
 foreman's hand; the other end trailed on the 
 floor. The chirography of Bildad Akers stood 
 out plain. I knew the article. I knew when I 
 gave it in as "copy." I knew what the trouble 
 was the strange spelling. I knew that we had 
 been criticised for publishing the articles of Bil 
 dad Akers in their original orthography. I knew 
 that to have published them otherwise would not 
 only have offended our old friend, but would have 
 had the same effect on the articles as brushing 
 the dew from the morning glory or rubbing the 
 blush from June peach. So without asking any 
 questions, I simply told the foreman to "let her 
 go" (excuse slang). 
 
 "Dear Edditor 
 
 I have nothin' speshul to write jest now, but 
 I hav jest read as how edditor Ivry has axed 
 the preechers and laymun to write more for the 
 Ole Roily. No one kin say that any preecher, 
 elder, Stewart, edditor, or any other sarvint of 
 the church has ever apealed to me for help with 
 out me bustin' a biler if necessary to despond.
 
 ANOTHER WONDERFUL LETTER. 143 
 
 This is what this peace means. I jest want to 
 do Ivry a favur and tone up the litterary apart 
 ment of the Qle Roily agin. I've got sence enuff 
 to know what an omnybuss bill is. This is the 
 kind this letter is. I ginerally manages to keep 
 up with the doins' of our legislatur boddies every 
 yeer. So evry reader knows why I am writin' 
 under the head peace of Omnybuss Itims. This 
 peace is made up of all kinds of fixins' jest the 
 same as was that stu I et at Confearence which, 
 as I remember, they called a new brunswick stu. 
 
 Well, I do wish the preechers and laymun 
 would scrach their pens more for the Advocate. 
 It would do 'em a site of good in trainin' em to 
 write proper. Ef I had not never writ so much 
 for the papers I would hav liked a site of havin' 
 the stile and popylarity I have got as a litterary 
 scribe. Now you know I'm jest jokin' now. 
 
 I wish you could get up a few sanktified fusses 
 in your paper. I know every edditor likes sich. 
 Things is too quiet like. It shows that folks is 
 not thinkin' much, and when folks is not thinkin' 
 much you may set it down that thar is some 
 plum lazyness in the ar, and then when things is 
 so quiet like thar's apt to be some mischiff 
 agwine on. I remember Jim Moore's wife had 
 a passel of hefty, vigrus boys, about a duzen of
 
 144 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 em it seemed to me. I used to be over thar a 
 sight. As long as them boys was yellin' and 
 goin' on in the backyard, we knowd evrything 
 was jest right, but when things got quiet like, 
 we knowed they was up to some meanness. Now 
 I don't like to have things too quiet in the "Ole 
 Rolly's backyard. It looks like our people is 
 lazy and aint doin' much. The biggest work 
 of the yeer in the ground is goin' on when the 
 Ma-ch wins is blowin'. Write more, preechers 
 and laymun, even ef you stir up hornets. And 
 dont fergit the words of the Bible, 'out of the 
 bundance of the hart the mouth speaketh,' and 
 it must be sed, 'the pen writeth.' When thar's 
 not much speakin' and ritin' thar's not much in 
 the hart, that is, as a rool. I put in these last 
 words for the benyfit of them peeple which the 
 Lord never intended for 'em to say much, and 
 who is purtiest when they says the least. 
 
 But afore I drap this subjeck I jest want to 
 say this. Most of the writin' thar is in the Ole 
 Roily is did by the sirkut riders. Not as I am 
 sayin' that some citty preechers aint all right, but 
 it does seem to me that the feel hans, as you call 
 em, is doin' the most work ef you jedge by the 
 reports that comes in. 
 
 Craps is mity fine down in these parts. Lizy
 
 ANOTHER WONDERFUL LETTER. 145 
 
 was sayin' to me tother day that old Marster is 
 mity good to childern and eejits. I got to thinkin' 
 bout the fine craps this yeer and about the politi 
 cal speekin's and convenshuns and lections and 
 sich like, and I sez to Lizy, Lizy, ole Marster is 
 mity good, to His peepul endurin' lection yeer 
 with so many speekin's and fussin's and votin's 
 and gineral rucuses. We would be in a bad fix 
 ef ole Marster didn't make up fer it all by givin' 
 good craps? The more I watch things the 
 stronger I git in my idees of a Divine Prover- 
 dence. ^ 
 
 Tawkin' about politicks, I didnt go to the 
 Sharlit convenshun. They didn't lect me a delly- 
 gate, and I am glad I didnt go, fer my man got 
 beat. Yes, as my friend George Smitt says, I 
 am powerful glad I wasn't thar. They had regu 
 lar shoutin' times. Bill Baggs was thar, and 
 they say he made more fuss than any of 'em. 
 Yet Bill is the feller that says he caint tend the 
 pertracted meetin bekase the fuss makes him 
 nervus. I'm layin' fer Bill the next meetin', which 
 will begin next Sundy comin' too weeks. I'm 
 agwine to take the hide offin him when he tawks 
 about bein' nervus in a pertracted meetin'. 
 
 Our preecher is keepin' his jints greased and 
 the church's too, endurin' this sizzlin' hot 
 10
 
 146 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 weather. He put up with us last Saddy nite. 
 Arter supper we got out in the yard and tawked 
 about things in gineral. He hapened to say why 
 he was late in comin' in. It was nigh candle lite 
 when he lit from his buggy. He said he had 
 jest come from old Sister Buckin's whar he 
 hadn't been in nearly a yeer, and he thawt he 
 ort to stay a rite smart spell. I edged up to the 
 preecher. Lizy had jest went in and I thawt I 
 had a spankin' chance to tawk to the preecher 
 jest as I pleased. So, I says, Bud, I want to ease 
 myself of a few idees which, cordin' to my 
 noshun, would be mity handy to preechers. You 
 all has got several harisies, as George Smitt says, 
 in your mentle make-up. 
 
 Furst, harisy I, when you tawk about takin' a 
 rest now and then and missin' a Sunday and that 
 you have to stand up ole brother So-and-So in 
 your place, you have got the idee that if you miss 
 one Sundy even the barrul will bust all its hoops 
 and the waters of salvashun will go to waist. 
 Now, do you know no peeple aint so tuk up with 
 a preecher but what they raly enjy hearin' some 
 one else once in a while. The church aint so de 
 pendent on one sarmont of no preecher. Then 
 arter you come back they will be_sp much gladder 
 to see you. Bud, dont git the big head about the
 
 ANOTHER WONDERFUL LETTER. 147 
 
 needcesity of the meetin' house havin' you all the 
 time, an nobody but you. 
 
 Secundly, harisy 2, you have got the idee that 
 you've got to preach a long whet to a country 
 congregashun bekase they dont hear you more'n 
 once a month. Do you sometimes preach an 
 hour'n and a half in sizzlin' wether jest bekase 
 you think you have to tank em full ferninst the 
 next sarmont ? You never made a bigger mistake 
 in your life, in spite of what some old galivantin' 
 complainers say. Peeple that has got enny sence 
 looks at the quality of the meat instid of the 
 lenth of the shank. Don't forgit it. 
 
 Thurdly, Harisy 2, you was speekin' of bein' 
 afeared old Sister Buckins would not like it if 
 you didn't stay a long time. Now, a great many 
 peeple like fer the preecher to visit like they 
 preech short and sweet. Some of these peeple 
 who air everlastingly complainin' about the 
 preecher not comin' to see 'em would be disap- 
 pinted ef you was to come. Some preechers who 
 set meek and quiet like In the settin room awaitin' 
 for 'em to come in and feelin' that they air a 
 plum needcessity to the fambly ort to git jest one 
 square look at the face of the dear sister or 
 brother and ketch what they say at the backdoor. 
 It would take a few kinks outer your self con-
 
 148 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 sate. Now, ole Sister Buckins, I happen to know, 
 is rarin' rite now bekase you staid so long. She 
 was bilin' soap and wanted to git things done 
 afore Sundy. Visit your peeple, Bud, whether 
 they like it or not, but dont fling away your 
 common-sence, and dont git big-headed about 
 your needcessity to the fambly. Now, Bud, its 
 time to go to roost. Sence we've had pra'r's, you 
 may lite out to bed. 
 
 This is what I said to my preecher. Now 1 
 mus stop. Next time I may rite you a peace 
 bout as how I cured Molt Henry from dodgin' 
 the Stewart jest afore Confearance. So I will 
 stop without sinin' my name at the tale eend, as 
 this is not a letter, but a peace with my name 
 sined at the dash board.
 
 AN EVENING WITH BILDAD AKERS.
 
 "You may jest say for Bildad Akers that ef he has 
 only a leetle to leave his fambly when he dies, he'll be 
 happy in that last hour ef he kin jest remember that he 
 made things comfortable fer 'em in body and mind and 
 sperrit while he was alive." Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The fire on the hearthstone of the old-fash 
 ioned sitting-room drowsed in a bed of gray 
 ashes, and each little sputtering blaze seemed to 
 say: "Leave us alone and go where the warmth 
 of the out-of-doors is covering the earth like a 
 blanket." 
 
 So we went out on the ancient porch with its 
 rude railing and sat right under the purple bells 
 of a great wisteria vine. The soft April twilight 
 was steeped in that languorous warmth which 
 rightfully belongs to the month of June. The 
 frogs were croaking in the meadow below, 
 through which only an hour ago the little creek 
 glistened like a skein of silver. Far over the 
 orchard to the right, whose pink and white glo 
 ries were loading the air with their elusive per 
 fume, the muffled roar of a train was heard, oc 
 casionally mingled with the barking of a dog in 
 a distant clump of trees where a neighbor's lamp 
 was glimmering. 
 
 It was an evening that seemed carved out of 
 the heart of summer. Such an evening casts a 
 kind of spell upon all who leave open their soul- 
 windows that the sound of the infinite may enter.
 
 152 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 Bildad Akers, in spite of his crudeness and rug- 
 gedness, belongs to this class of beings. So I 
 wondered not at his silence for the space of five 
 minutes after we had taken our seat on the porch. 
 He was under the spell, and, at the thought, my 
 heart warmed to him as to a kindred spirit. It 
 seemed to me that the strong countenance had 
 relaxed and that certain lines around the mouth 
 had vanished. 
 
 He finally broke the silence as he replaced the 
 straggling lock of gray hair which had been lifted 
 from its normal position by a truant breeze which 
 had just stolen in from the orchard. 
 
 "Yes, Ivry," he said, "as I was a sayin' jest 
 now at supper, the more I look at my neighbors 
 and the older I git, the harder it gits for me to 
 abuse 'em instid of pityin' em. You town fel 
 lers think you see all the sad sights. You are 
 a sight mistaken. A man which keeps his eyes 
 open, and what has a heart, can see a plenty in 
 the kentry, and you caint say that thar aint no 
 poverty here. Well, thar aint no poverty sich as 
 you have in the towns. We've got plenty who 
 are land pore, but that aint the kind of poreness 
 I'm thinkin of." 
 
 Here the old man wheeled around in his chair 
 and said: "It makes me sad to think how pore
 
 UNDER THE WISTERIA. 153 
 
 some of my neighbors is. They're jest as good 
 peeple as walks the face o' the yeth. They've 
 got plenty of land. They drive fine hosses and 
 sich, but they're as pore as Jobe's turkey. Some 
 of 'em don't seem to keer a chickin feather about 
 anything else than to keep on makin' their farms 
 bigger and havin' more money in the bank. They 
 don't figger that all this time they're sufferin' 
 from rale poreness of mind and heart." 
 
 "Why, there's John Winkler down at the cross 
 roads. He owns more Ian than anybody else in 
 the township, and drives the fastest hosses. He 
 has a passel of childern, some of em growd up, 
 and not a single one of 'em has any eddication. 
 Now, I hain't got none, but its bekase I never 
 had the chance. I know what it means tho. Ole 
 John says all the eddication his childern need is 
 to read and write, and that ef they can only git 
 along well in the world, they'll be allright. His 
 idee of gittin' on right is to have plenty of Ian 
 and have money in the bank. To see old John 
 losin' sight of mind riches and never stoppin' to 
 think how pore even a rich man is when he is 
 mind-pore it jest makes me sick. I will leave 
 my childern a leetle when they lay me over yander 
 on that hill among them graves; but this is not 
 what makes me feel good. It's the fact that I
 
 154 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 give em all a good eddication. I don't want my 
 childern mind-pore." 
 
 "What you reckon," continued Bildad, "Bill 
 Summers said when the preecher tried to git 
 him to send that purty bright gal of his to col- 
 lige? She's an ambitious gal and wants to make 
 somethin' of herself. Bill said that he reckoned 
 as fer as dollars and sents was consarned he 
 could make the raise, but that ef he sent Sally 
 off he would have to hire an extry hand, and 
 that his polisy was never to add a expense to a 
 expense. It takes that kind of man to do what 
 he done. Sally was the gal that wanted to raise 
 a leetle flower gyarden right ferninst the cotton- 
 patch. She had already sot out some plants when 
 one day her daddy come in and begun to make 
 a fuss about it, and then went out and tore the 
 whole thing up. He said that groun was too 
 good for cotton to be wasted that away. Do you 
 know that we have got too many out in the kentry 
 that looks at it that away. They seem to think 
 that life is not worth nothin' 'cept you kin turn 
 it into money and hawgs and hosses and land. 
 They don't seem to ketch the idee that the porest 
 critter in the world is the money-rich man who 
 is mind-pore and heart-pore." 
 
 "Some of my neighbors, and well-to-do at that,
 
 UNDER THE WISTERIA. 155 
 
 eats the porest grub and wears the porest close, 
 and never buys any furnitoor for the house, and 
 never fixes up the house none, and never gives 
 the boys and gals any schoolin', jest bekase they 
 want to leave something they say, to their fambly 
 when they die. Why caint they larn that makin' 
 their fambly happy and well-to-do in mind and 
 sperrit while they live is wuth more'n the biggest 
 fortune ever left? You may jest say for Bildad 
 Akers that ef he has only a leetle to leave his 
 fambly when he dies he'll be happy in that last 
 hour ef he kin jest remember that he made things 
 comfortable for 'em in body and mind and sperrit 
 while he was alive. That's the most of my re- 
 lijun, Ivry, and I beleev that was the relijun Ole 
 Marster teached when He was upon yeth." 
 
 I here stopped my friend, Bildad, to say that 
 he might be painting too dark a picture for his 
 country neighbors, and that, as bad as it is in the 
 country sections, it is worse in the towns. 
 
 Bildad simply replied: "That doesn't make it 
 no better in these kentry diggin's, do it?" 
 
 Of course, there was no reply to this kind of 
 argument. 
 
 "Now you see," he continued, "I'm nothin' 
 but a plain ole codger, but I keep my head wheels 
 a-turnin', and I think a sight of things you don't
 
 156 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 have any idee I'm thinkin' of. I'm shore that 
 the kentry preecher dont lay out a wide enough 
 land in their gospel plowin'. There's a plum heap 
 more for 'em to do than to preach a sarmont once 
 a week in the meetin'-house, stay all night with 
 one of his members, take up a c'lection the fust 
 good Sundy, and hold a meetin' in the summer 
 or fall. Our peeple need workin' up jest as they 
 do in towns, and need it a sight wuss. The gos- 
 pil must git into the homes and the soshul life of 
 our peeple. It must clean up the frunt yards and 
 put paint on the house. It's got to make things 
 comfortable and put books and papers into the 
 hans of the boys and gerls and send them off to 
 our colliges and sich. Don't you think so ?" 
 
 I assented most heartily to all of this. 
 
 "Then you see," continued Bildad, "our young 
 peeple's life needs a turnin' over. They need 
 more than to go to preachin' and Sundy scool. 
 The pint is, they must have more to do, and this 
 will give 'em what you call soshul life and mind 
 and heart trainin' at the same time. I git mad 
 every time a kentry preacher talks about not 
 bein' able to run a Sundy-scool endurin' the win 
 ter or havin' a Epwurth Lege. This air a reflec 
 tion on our people. We've got to have the same 
 kind of life and church work in the kentry that
 
 UNDER THE WISTERIA. 157 
 
 them town peeple have. We air made out o' the 
 same dirt. The preechers must git to givin' the 
 gospil a wider range in the kentry than they are 
 now givin'. They have jest naterally got to git 
 to studyin' kentry condishuns. I've been tryin' 
 to git my preecher to have a Epwurth Lege at 
 our meetin'-house, but he sez that it caint be 
 did. I jest know it kin." 
 
 At this juncture, the sound of a squeaking 
 wagon was wafted to our ears on the night 
 breeze. Bildad suddenly paused in his conver 
 sation. Mrs. Akers, who had just joined us said, 
 "Who's that, Bildad?" Bildad said nothing, but 
 looked out into the darkness of the road, where 
 the wagon, making a hideous noise with its 
 wheels, was passing. When it finally turned the 
 corner of the road, Bildad leaned back and gave 
 the first big laugh I had heard from him in some 
 time. 
 
 Mrs. Akers said querulously: "Well I won 
 der what ails that man. Bildad, what on the 
 face of the yeth is ailin' of you?" 
 
 I, too, was wondering what change had come 
 over the spirit of Bildad's dream. 
 
 He finally said: "Do you know who that was 
 a-passin? It was ole Jimmy Flack, who is the 
 second biggest land-owner in this township. I jest
 
 158 BIIJ>AD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 had it to come to my mind the last preachin' day 
 when the preecher lifted his Confearance c'lec- 
 tions. Ole Jimmy has got the idee that the only 
 riches is in land and hosses and sich. He lives 
 like a hawg, and makes his peeple live like him. 
 He's got his ole oman to think jest like him, only 
 wuss. They are members and are on my Stewart's 
 list. I know all about 'em. The best knower of 
 human natur, Ivry, is a Methodist Stewart. He 
 has a fine chance for findin' out what kind of a 
 critter a pusson air." 
 
 "Old Jimmy come in late that Sundy, and he 
 'peared to be mightily flustrated bout somethin'. I 
 knowed he had got to the meetin'-house afore 
 I did, and I didn't know until arterards why he 
 come in late. He had put in his buggy four years 
 of corn for his hoss. When he got to the meet 
 in'-house, he found he had drapped two years. 
 His ole oman had made him go back a mile to 
 find them two years the buggy had drapped." 
 
 "When the preecher got through his sarmont 
 and lighted on the c'lectin' bisness, I jest 
 couldn't keep from laffin' when I seed he had sot 
 his hart on gittin' five dollar from ole Jimmy. 
 He had staid all night a week or two afore with 
 the ole man and he know'd ole Jimmy was able 
 to pay a hunderd dollar. He never counted, tho,
 
 UNDER THE WISTERIA. 159 
 
 on gittin' more than five dollar, bein' as how he 
 had staid all night with him but oncet. Well, it 
 was a sight to see ole Jimmy and ole Mrs. Jimmy 
 endurin' that c'lection. She looked mad all the 
 time, and oncet when he made a moshun like he 
 was goin' to speak, she grabbed his arm and 
 pulled him back. The sweat was pourin' from 
 his face all the time. He felt that all his money 
 give to the c'lections was jest money plum wasted, 
 but he knowd he must give sumthin' for an 
 excuse. Well, the preacher tawked and tawked 
 and looked at Jimmy. I santered over, and, fool- 
 like, put in a word. Jimmy jest looked stubborn 
 and straight ahead. His ole oman looked mad. 
 Finally he axed Tom Fallows for a pensul and 
 he writ somethin' down. We know'd then he had 
 prescribed somethin' and we felt sartin the work 
 was done. What you reckun he promussed to pay ? 
 Only a measley quarter of a dollar. This was 
 not the wust. I happened to drive behind him 
 and his wife arter the meetin' broke up, and what 
 she said to ole Jimmy for wastin' that quarter 
 was a sight, and she never let up with her tongue 
 tell they druv into their yard whar I counted 
 forty bale of cotton. Now, it is sich truck we 
 have got to deal with here in the kentry. It 
 makes me mad to think of it. Yit, when I re-
 
 l60 BIU)AD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 member how big the preecher's eyes got when he 
 looked on ole Jimmy's prescription and saw it- 
 was only a quarter, I caint help from laffin'. And 
 that was what I was laffin' about as that waggin 
 passed." 
 
 I here had to tell Bildad we had plenty of ole 
 Jimmy Flacks in town, and that many of them 
 do not give even a quarter. He did not answer 
 this statement, but yawned and said: 
 
 "But I guess it is bout time to turn in. Come 
 in and have pra'rs, and you can go to roost." 
 
 As I lay in the best bed of Bildad's hospitable 
 old-fashioned home that night, I thought much of 
 the country problem which Bildad Akers had long 
 pondered, and, after I fell asleep, I dreamed that 
 a wonderful change had come across old Jimmy 
 and his wife, and that they had actually sub 
 scribed to the "Old Raleigh."
 
 BASEBALL AND THE CHURCH PAPER. 
 
 11
 
 "Now, I've thought a heap 'bout what you said, and 
 I've jest lit on this, which I believe is a fack, that one 
 of the pint blank things that is ail in' our church is that 
 our peeple don't know nothin' about their church." 
 Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It was only an ordinary knot of men and boys 
 that almost blocked the doorway of the wait 
 ing-room. It was not difficult for the detached 
 lounger to discover that base-ball was the subject 
 of discussion. I was about to pass on to the 
 ticket window when my ears caught a familiar 
 note in one voice which seemed unusually ob 
 trusive and masterful. It dealt out with enthusi 
 asm and authority such words as "pitcher" and 
 "run," and averred that "that pitcher jest nat- 
 erally had ought to be tuk frum the game in the 
 fust eenin." 
 
 Of course, I did not pass on at once to the ticket 
 window. I looked over the fringe of the crowd 
 at a hale animated old man who was the centre 
 of interest. I did not mean to catch his eye, but 
 he caught mine, and, stopping in the midst a sen 
 tence descriptive of the "pitchin" power of a 
 "feller down my way," he advanced toward me 
 and gave me what is called a handshake, while he 
 roared his salutation through the waiting-room. 
 
 I knew him to be Bildad Akers before I saw 
 him in the centre of the crowd. If there had 
 been any doubt, it would have been dispelled after 
 that hand-shake. There is no other like it.
 
 164 BILDAD AKERSI HIS BOOK. 
 
 "Bless my soul, Ivry, who'd a suspishuned 
 a-seein' you down here jest as I was a-hopin' 
 you'd never ketch on as I had been to Roily. Per 
 jest as sartain as I see you you've got to plunk 
 somethin' down in the Advocate about me. I 
 don't keer, but Lizy says people '11 think I go 
 to Roily jest to see and be seed, and then to git 
 my name in the Advocate. So I sorter thawt 
 I'd git out of these diggin's without havin' sot 
 eyes on you. But shore as guns iurn you have 
 cotch me this time. Well, well Ivry how air 
 you anyway?" 
 
 I answered Bildad as courtesy and brotherly 
 feeling demanded, and informed him that I was 
 going down his way and anticipated with great 
 pleasure the privilege of talking to him on the 
 train. The old man drew his fingers through his 
 hair, and his face took on an expression which 
 suggested to me a painful query on his part as 
 to what "Lizy" would say now. But the domin- 
 nant feeling in a moment conquered, and his 
 pleasure expressed itself in the words: "I'd jest 
 as soon talk to you as any of them other fellers." 
 This from Bildad meant much. 
 
 In a few minutes we were on the train. The 
 car was crowded. Not a vacant seat could be 
 found. There was one defiant looking little man
 
 THE CHURCH PAPER. 165 
 
 with a stubby mustache and bull-dog jaw, who 
 was occupying two double seats. Bildad eyed 
 him for a moment, and then approached him 
 and said: "You feller, thar, hike them hoofs 
 offen that seat and dont make me think so much 
 of a hawg tryin' to eat two years of corn at the 
 same time." The little man at first hesitated, but 
 looking up at the owner of that voice, he imme 
 diately "hiked." I turned the seat and settled 
 down for our chat. 
 
 The conductor came around. There was a 
 look of trouble on Bildad's face. I found that 
 he had not become accustomed to the little slip 
 that had been placed in his hat. "Ivry," he said, 
 "it's a piccayunish thing to mind, but do you 
 know it riles me every time that captin puts one 
 of them things in my hat. It's too much like 
 brandin' steers or ticketin' punkins and roosters 
 out at the State Fair." I tried to explain the 
 utility and necessity of the slip, but even then he 
 was not satisfied. 
 
 After criticising some hill-side plowing that 
 was being done in a field to the right, my com 
 panion looked at me a moment and said : 
 
 "Ivry, you think I'm 'shamed of myself, aint 
 you? about that baseball bisness? Well, I haint 
 one bit. I haint only been tawkin' about it, but I
 
 1 66 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 went to the game this very evenin'. I mout as 
 well tell you that ever sence I was a boy at the 
 old Pond scool-house and played "cat and town 
 ball," I've jest naterally hankered arter evry 
 good game of baseball what was in walkin' or 
 ridin' distunce. Why, it's like hearin' preechin' 
 when I see a good game. I larn so much bout 
 myself and others. To see a feller hold a bat jest 
 like he was a-goin' to miss the ball minds me of 
 these fellers who never spect to make anything in 
 life, and never does. They dont spect to hit the 
 ball. Then to see a man what has got on a base 
 and dont wait fer a ball to put him on another 
 base jest teaches me that it wont always do fer 
 a feller to wait for somethin' to turn up, as old 
 Big Sellers has been a-doin'. It takes the best 
 quality of brains to play a good game, and it jest 
 pintedly stirs all the bile in me to see two good 
 teams a-playin agin one another. It'd help you, 
 Ivry, ef you would take more intrust in sich. No, 
 I aint got a thing to be 'shamed of; even ef I am 
 a Stewart in the church." 
 
 I assured Bildad that if he did not have laid 
 up against him any sin more grievous than that of 
 liking baseball, his account with the Recording 
 Angel was all right. 
 
 In spite of the fact that Bildad's conscience
 
 THE CHURCH PAPER. 167 
 
 had seeemd so clear, my assurance that I at 
 tached no blame to him seemed to please him. 
 But he put his mouth close to my ear and said 
 in a subdued tone. "You needn't tell Lizy 'bout 
 my goin' to the game this evenin'. I tell her 'bout 
 everything, but wimmin is so quare, what's the 
 use of botherin' them with things they caint un 
 derstand and may make a fuss about?" 
 
 The train roared on. The conversation lagged 
 and finally stopped. Bildad was nodding. I al 
 lowed him to sleep. This, however, was only for 
 a few minutes. The voice of the porter calling 
 a station waked him. He rubbed his eyes and 
 yawned. Then he said : "Ivry, how is the Advo 
 cate?" 
 
 I told him that the Advocate would be getting 
 along finely if we could only keep any money 
 in the treasury; that unpaid subscriptions were 
 bothering us, especially in the summer season; 
 that we had a good many friends among the 
 subscribers, but that a large number would take 
 the paper as long as we would not say anything 
 about pay, but, that the moment we would ask 
 them for their subscription, they would get mad 
 and stop the paper. I dwelt for a while on the 
 fact that the "Old Raleigh" is, with one excep 
 tion, the only first class religious paper in South-
 
 l68 BIU>AD AKEJRS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 ern Methodism which is supporting itself from 
 only one-half of a State. I closed by saying, 
 "If we had more friends like you. Brother Akers. 
 we would sweep everything." 
 
 The old man slowly shook his head, and said : 
 "We have got some quare fellers among us 
 Methdists. I met up with one of 'em last week. 
 I was a hitchin' my hoss at the post-office when 
 Jeems Sedly come out with a letter in his han. 
 He was mad as fire. I said, Jeems, what's the 
 matter? Jeems said, 'Jest look thar,' and he 
 handed me the letter. I tuk it and read it and 
 seed where you was a-axin' him to send you 
 some money, sence he was three year behind. I 
 said, 'Jeems that's all right. Why dont you 
 anty up?' He said: 'That's a dun, and I hate 
 duns like snakes.' I said: 'That's quare. Ef I 
 owe a man anythin' and haint antied up, I caint 
 blame the man for wantin' his money and tellin' 
 me so/ 'Well,' said Jeems, 'I prescribed for only 
 a year.' I axed Jeems if he had paid for a year. 
 He scratched his head and said he hadn't, but 
 lowed to do it. But they want me to pay for the 
 time ever sence then. This is eight times they 
 have wrote me, and I am gittin' tired of it.' 
 'Well, have you wrote for 'em to stop the paper ?' 
 says I. 'No,' he says, 'they knowd I prescribed
 
 THE CHURCH PAPER. 169 
 
 for only a year. They ought to have stopped the 
 paper.' 'Why didn't you stop it by not takin' it 
 out of the office?' says I. 'You knowd ef them 
 Advocate fellers stopped the paper thout your 
 orderin' it stopped, you would have got your 
 dander up, and would cuse em of not wantin' to 
 credick you and prehaps cuss 'em. Ef you was 
 too no-count to write 'em, why in the name of 
 common-sence did you keep on takin' the paper 
 out of the office? You wouldnt write to 'em, 
 and you kept on takin' the paper and readin' it, 
 and how in the name of common-sence and re- 
 lijun can you be agin payin' 'em?' Jeems only 
 said he wasn't agwine to pay even ef he had been 
 readin' the paper all this time. Well, I seed it 
 was no use to talk to him any more. I left him, 
 and as I left, I says to myself: 'I trust to the 
 good Lord the "Old Roily" haint got many like 
 Jeems to fool with. He needs both sense and 
 relijun.' ' : 
 
 I assured Bildad, that we had so many good, 
 true men and women among our readers, that, 
 if he didn't mind, we would not talk on the sub 
 ject any more. It was a sore subject with me, 
 and had given us more trouble than anything 
 else connected with the paper. 
 
 But Bildad was not willing to leave the sub-
 
 I7O BILDAD AKERSI HIS BOOK. 
 
 ject altogether. He said : "I have got an idee in 
 my head which has been buzzin' thar ever sence 
 I hearn you at the Deestrict. You said down 
 thar in your speech that Methdism wont never 
 d'liver the goods (you didn't say it adzactly in 
 them words) ontell our peeple git to knowin' 
 more about the church not one siety, but the 
 whole church. You said peeple had to know 
 what their church was doin' afore they could 
 feel a rale intrust in it, and that they would never 
 do anythin' ontell they felt this intrust." 
 
 "Now, I've thought a heap bout what you said, 
 and I have just lit on this, which I believe is a 
 fack, that one of the pint blank things that is 
 ailin' our church is that our peeple dont know 
 nothin' about their church." 
 
 "Do you know our preacher said he was 
 a-ridin' on the train once talkin' to a Piscopal 
 Bishup, and up comes one of his town Stewarts, 
 worth sites of money and playin Big Ike in the 
 church. He was interduced to the Piscopal 
 Bishup, and he axed him to come to his town 
 and preach in his church. He didn't know the 
 names of our own Bishups. He didn't take his 
 church paper, and didn't know a Bishup from a 
 side of sole leather, and he thought the Piscopal
 
 THE CHURCH PAPER. 171 
 
 Bishup was a big Methdist. How docs that strike 
 you and him a Stewart?" 
 
 "You know I went to that Deestrict two years 
 ago whar our Bishup preached. I et dinner whar 
 he et one day. Bob Toole was thar. You know 
 Bob. He's a big Methdist on big occashuns, and 
 when thar's payin' to be did. Well, Bob Toole 
 tried to play big when he was a-talkin' to the 
 Bishup. He told the Bishup all about his fine 
 house, and big bizness, and how they was goin' 
 to put a big winder in the new church when they 
 buried him. But he busted every thing to pieces 
 when he axed the Bishup what stashun he sarved 
 when he was at home. An old codger like me 
 had more sence than that. Bob didnt know any 
 thing about his church. How could he, when he 
 never seed his church paper in his life? 
 
 "Now, what are we goin' to do with Methdists 
 like that, and how are we goin' to make any other 
 kmd ceptin' we git them to read the church 
 paper?" 
 
 "My idee is this," continued Bildad, after he 
 had expectorated out of the window. "We've got 
 to sess the Church members for puttin' the church 
 paper into the hands of all the people jest like 
 we sess em for mishuns and eddication and sich, 
 and then let the whole church or the Confearance
 
 172 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 run the paper and charge no prescription price. 
 We've got to larn the people bout their church 
 doin's jest as we larn them about these other 
 things that we're sessed fer. I don't believe 
 we are gwine to work out our sums which so 
 many are scratchin' their heads over ontell we 
 do this. What do you think of that idee, Ivry?" 
 
 I had to say that it looked plausible, and that 
 a plan of this kind would make a new Methodism. 
 
 By this time our train had run up to a small 
 station and was just pulling out when Bildad 
 rose from his seat and, saying only "Bless my 
 soul !" rushed out of the car. It was his station, 
 and the last view of him showed him diving into 
 the crowd that stood in front of the depot.
 
 ADVICE TO FARMERS.* 
 
 *This letter was originally published in THH PRO 
 GRESSIVE FARMER.
 
 "How in the world a man which grubs, and plows, and 
 feeds hogs and cattle and sich can expect to make a 
 good livin' without his farm paper is more'n I kin sense." 
 Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 FEBUARY 8, 
 IN THE YEER OF THE LORD, 1906. 
 
 DEER PERGRESSIVE FARMER: We was settin' 
 by the fire last night and I says to Lizy, "I've 
 got an idee of writin' to the Pergressive Farm 
 er." Lizy giv me one of them looks which any 
 man who has a woman who speaks her mind 
 right out in meetin' knows, and she looks over me 
 kinder pitiful like and says, "Bildad, it pears to 
 me you have enough to do writin' to your church 
 paper. I'm not so certen but you've writ too 
 much allreddy." And then she went back to her 
 nittin'. 
 
 I said, "Lizy, I've got idees. They may be 
 homemade and not slicked up like some, but I've 
 larned that a pair of nit galluses does jest as 
 good wurk as them you buy in stores. I've got 
 the idees, and it pears to me I want to spout em 
 out on paper jest as bad as wimmen like to talk 
 afore and arter the sarmont in a meetin' house. 
 I axed our preecher last meetin' Sundy why he 
 hadn't writ up his sirkut and he said he was 
 modest and was afeared some'un would say he 
 was tryin' to be heady and forrerd. I tole him 
 and I tell you that our Preecher's stripe of mod-
 
 1/6 BILDAD AKBfcS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 esty is like smut on wheat good for nothin' and 
 bad for everything. No, I'm goin' to write to 
 the Pergressive Farmer. Its my duty. Ive bin 
 takin' that paper a long time." 
 
 Yes, Mr. Po, I've bin takin' the Farmer for 
 nigh onto twenty yeer onless I disremember. I 
 sometimes git arter my church peeple for not 
 takin' their paper printed in Roily. It prints a 
 tipe mighty like yours, it pears to me. Now, 
 my pint is: A man what's a farmer needs your 
 paper jest as bad as a man what's a Methdist 
 needs Bro. Ivry's paper, or a man what's a Bap- 
 tis needs Mr. Baley's paper. How in the world 
 a man that grubs and plows and feeds hogs and 
 cattle and sich can expect to make a good livin' 
 without having' his farm paper is more'n I kin 
 sense. The trubble with our farmers is that they 
 don't keep up with the times. They don't see 
 that the world is lopin' on, and that the man that 
 wants to keep up must jump into the waggin. 
 They say they air goin' to rejuce the number of 
 rewral delivries in North Calliny. I was talkin' 
 to Bose King tother day bout it, and I says, Bose, 
 it'll be a rank tearin' disgrace to our State ef they 
 take down them boxes. It'll mean that our ken- 
 try peeple is not readin' enough, which means 
 that they are not keepin' up with the times.
 
 ADVICE TO FARMERS. 1/7 
 
 I allers speaks up Mr. Po, for the Pergressive 
 Farmer. Ole John Bony borrered my paper tell 
 I sed to him that the thing had to stop and that 
 he must take it himself. When you greed to let 
 him have it for a leetle while for ten cents you 
 got him. Ef it had bin eleven cents you'd a 
 missed fire, like an ole army musket with a wet 
 cap. But John got started and I seed him with 
 your paper tother day, and I do believe that he's 
 subscribin' regular, aint he? 
 
 But I'm off the track a leetle grain. I was 
 lowin' to tell you that I've got sense enough to 
 know a few things, and I know that thar's many 
 new things goin' on in the farmin' world and 
 that the farmer must take his farm paper to find 
 out and keep up with em. The Pergressive farm 
 er is allus givin' us something new. Thar is 
 plenty of picturs. I looked at one of your animil 
 picturs not long ago and handed it over to Lizy, 
 and said, That thar animal is feerfully maid. 
 Then you tell us all about vaxinatin' the sile. I 
 didn't ketch on to this at fust. I thought vaxi 
 natin' a man's arm was a plum failure and I 
 believe so now. What good is there in vaxinatin' 
 the sile? I sed to myself. But I'm a convart to 
 the scheme. 
 
 Now, Mr. Po, I dont want to befuddle any of 
 12
 
 178 BIU>AD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 your readers tryin' to make em believe I'm one 
 of your big farmers. I have a few hunderd 
 akers and I work evry aker to its very levelest. I 
 thank God I hav'nt the land eetch. Work well 
 what you've got is my mottoe. I beleeve in 
 ditches and clean creek banks and teracin' and all 
 that. You caint find a brier patch on my farm, 
 and a red hillside runs from me like a skeeter 
 from pennyrile. I dont plant a site of cotton like 
 some of my nabors, but I plant enuf, I think. I 
 believe in divarsity of crops. I havent bought a 
 bushel of corn or wheat or a bale of hay sence 
 Lizy and me moved from Pisga township, whar 
 we was married. I haint bought any hog meat 
 but once and that was the yeer when kolery broke 
 out in our seckshun. 
 
 But, Mr. Po, what hurts me most is so many of 
 our farmer peeple dont know a good thing when 
 they see it. They are etarnally wantin' to move 
 to town. Lige White had money in his pocket 
 tell he sold his farm and moved to Roily whar he 
 went into keepin' a little grosery store. I met 
 him one mornin' front of his store. He had a 
 yaller weskit that no decent man ought to wear 
 'ceptin' on Sundy. He spoke to me, axed about 
 things in the ole naborhood, and then hitched 
 me to one side and sed he had jest been to the
 
 ADVICE TO FARMERS. 179 
 
 bank to get a note renued and that he was jest 
 thinkin' afore he seed me of what a blab-mouthed 
 mistake he made when he giv up farmin'. He 
 says, Bildad, ef I could jest go back to turnin' 
 up the sile and burnin' bresh and walkin' over my 
 farm Sundy evenin' to see how things have 
 growed, and smell a wheat field in May, and 
 wash my face at the well, and hear the crows, and 
 go to town with cotton and sell truck and go 
 back and go to sleep at a goodly hour and wake 
 up like a new man at daylight, I would be happy 
 agin." 
 
 Mr. Po, write all you can about our farmer 
 peeple leavin' of the kentry and warn 'em agin it. 
 
 But I've writ enough fer this time. Be shore 
 to read the proof well. I noticed that there was 
 some mistakes in spellin' in my last letter to my 
 church paper. 
 
 Yours til deth, 
 
 With all my breth, 
 
 BILDAD AKERS.
 
 HOW BILDAD AKERS COLLECTED 
 MOLT HENRY'S QUARTERAGE.
 
 "The Bible says, 'God loves a cheerful giver,' dont it? 
 Then don't tell me He loves the feller when gittin any 
 thing from him for the preecher or mishuns is like fishin' 
 fer a well bucket with a pair o' grabs with one prong." 
 Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Hearing that my old friend, Bildad Akers, was 
 in town, a visitor at his daughter's home, I called 
 on him after tea. I felt that this would be my 
 only chance of seeing him, as I surmised that the 
 recent lectures of his wife, "Lizy," on the evils 
 of publicity had fortified him with the determina 
 tion to keep away from the Advocate office at 
 least for a season. 
 
 I found that I had called rather too early. 
 Bildad and the family were at dinner. While I 
 was wondering, as I sat alone in the sitting room, 
 what was being said by Bildad during the meal 
 which he always called "supper," he made his 
 appearance in the doorway. He was brushing 
 some crumbs from his mouth, as I rose to shake 
 his hand. 
 
 To the stereotyped question, "How are you 
 feeling, brother Akers?" the answer came in the 
 words: "Middlm' jest and kinder holler." 
 
 He must have seen a perplexed look on my face, 
 for, coming nearer and lowering his voice, he 
 said : "I don't want to hurt Sally's feelins', and I 
 don't want to talk about what a visiter shouldn't 
 never talk about, but the rale bald-headed fact is, 
 I do feel kinder holler in my inner works. These
 
 184 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 town eatin's dont suit me. I'm used to havin' a 
 plain old-fashioned supper eended off with a bait 
 of some kind of guarden sass like cold cabbige 
 or beans this time o' year. Now Sally, she got 
 in yander a fine table, I reckin, plenty of silver 
 and plates in the shape of gourds and sich, but 
 the bread was cut up in leetle squares, and what 
 do you reckin were betwixt em? Nothin' but a 
 slice of tomater. Sallie tole me she sometime 
 fries 'em. Now, what do you think of that? 
 I shorely didn't raise her that away. Its some 
 collige doin's she larned when I eddicated her. 
 Them green plum-like things that is all seed 
 she had too. I come nigh forgittin' and tryin' 
 to slice em with my knife like I did at the Dee- 
 strict a cupple or so of years ago. The whole 
 layout didn't fill me up like I'm used to. So I feel 
 kinder holler, you know." 
 
 This was plain, characteristic talk on the part 
 of the old man, and while I could hardly repress 
 a smile while he was talking, I felt moved by a 
 warm sympathy for him; for, doubtless, he had 
 eaten an early dinner, and his vitals demanded 
 the purely substantial. 
 
 After delivering himself of his views, Bildad 
 sat down on a couch. He, rough, untutored, and 
 big, and the couch, richly upholstered and fragile
 
 MOLT HENRY'S QUARTERAGE;. 185 
 
 looking, made a pitcure which represented incon 
 gruity, if nothing else. 
 
 A few words concerning the little commonali 
 ties was passed. Then, Bildad, rising from his 
 seemingly uncomfortable position, yawned, and, 
 raising botn arms, gave himself a mighty stretch. 
 '"Let's git ou t of here, Ivry," he said. "Its 
 mighty comfortin' in here, and my peeple will be 
 in terrectly, but ef I stay I will be shore to go to 
 sleep. Lets get out in the ar." 
 
 This suggestion suited me, and I proposed tak 
 ing a walk, after having spoken to the rest of the 
 family. The evening was fine. A silver moon 
 rode in a sky as free from cloud as on a frosty 
 December morning. There was not a ripple in 
 the dense foliage of the maples as yet untouched 
 by the brush of autumn. The full blue of the 
 sky shaded off to the west into that pearly glow 
 which is characteristic of September skies. There 
 was inspiration in all that the eye could see. It 
 was a refreshing newly-brewed cup which nature 
 held to the lips of the aesthetic soul. I do not 
 know that my companion took as full a draught 
 as I did. He was in a mood for opening his 
 heart and using his tongue, and, as we walked 
 along, he gave me fresh glimpses of his vigorous 
 unnue nature.
 
 l86 BItDAD AKURS: HIS BOOJt. 
 
 I asked him how the circuit was going to come 
 out on the wind-up before Conference. I knew 
 that I had asked him a question which he would 
 be glad to answer. Because Bildad Akers made 
 God first in his heart and life, he had made his 
 church the principal institution in all the domain 
 of his citizenship. 
 
 "Well, Ivry," he said, "I'm a hopin' we'll come 
 out at the big eend of the horn. Bildad Akers 
 has never yit saw his church come out at tother 
 eend and he wont as long as he is above ground 
 and can tawk, and ride, and get money in hand, 
 house, horses, hawgs, and sich. That's me." 
 
 "But I've had a hard time as Stewart for many 
 a yeer, and the longer I'm a Stewart, the more I 
 see into the cussedness of some of the human 
 natur that some Methdists has. How the good 
 Lord stands em I caint see. Sich dodgin' and 
 complainin', and cussin' and lyin', a rale Methd- 
 ist Stewart does run up ferninst. Its got so most 
 men are scared to take hold of the bisness, and 
 when a man hangs on to the office, he's got to 
 do nothin', or else take the bit in his teath and 
 go ahead as a sufferer for Christ's sake." 
 
 "How did we ever begin gittin' into the church 
 them people who would ruther have a tooth 
 pulled than to give anythin' to the Lord? To
 
 MOLT HENRY'S QUARTERAGE. 187 
 
 hear em shout and sing and "brother" and "sis 
 ter" at the meetin's, you'd think they was sproutin' 
 wings for Heaven. But to see 'em makin' faces 
 and groanin' and complainin', as they hand out 
 their -little twenty-five cent pieces to the Stewart 
 jest afore Confearance, you'd think they was jest 
 from the pore-house, and that it was big me and 
 little God with them. And it is, Ivry. Don't you 
 tell me that God raly loves sich people. The 
 Bible says 'God loves a cheerful giver/ dont it? 
 Then dont tell me He loves the feller when gittin' 
 anything from him fer the preecher or mishuns 
 is like fishin' fer a well bucket with a one prong 
 pair of grabs. I have got some idees on this sub 
 ject what I want to see in the Advocate. Lizy 
 says I mosey about too much in the colyums of 
 your paper allready but I must drap you a few 
 lines on these idees afore long." 
 
 The conversation brought up in my mind a 
 question on which I had several times intended 
 to draw Bildad Akers out. It was as to how he 
 had ever succeeded in getting twenty-five dollars 
 for the Church from Molt Henry. So I asked 
 Bildad to tell me all about it. By this time we 
 were passing a drug store, and I suggested to 
 him that we might go in and take some refresh-
 
 l88 BIU5AD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 ing light drink. I had forgotten the other time 
 when I had made the same proposition. 
 
 "None fer me," he said. "I was raised on 
 spring water and butter-milk, and when you see 
 Bildad Akers suckin' furrin' truck through a yal- 
 ler quill, you know he has back-slided." 
 
 "Now about Molt Henry. I dont hope the 
 feller no harm. He's my neighbor, and he calls 
 himself a Methdist. Talk about angels a-laffin' 
 fer joy over the convarsion of sinners, but I think 
 there must have been some laffin' among a whole 
 passel of em, when I got that hunk of money from 
 Molt Henry." 
 
 "You see, Molt has been a Methdist fer a long 
 time. He's knowd down in my settlemint as the 
 only Methdist who had been able to keep his 
 church standin' fer twenty-five yeer without 
 payin' a red copper to the church. You know he's 
 as smart as blazes to be able to do that. Yit he has 
 did that very thing. The Stewarts has got arter 
 him. He'd put em off fer one reason or tothef 
 till jest afore Confearance. Then he'd give em a 
 wuthless order or jew bill or sich, and that was 
 the eend of it for that yeer. The next yeer the 
 Stewarts would be afeard to mention the back 
 pay to him. They thought by not mentionin' it 
 they mout git somethin' at the eend of the yeer.
 
 MOI/T HENRY'S QUARTERAGE. 189 
 
 But it was no go. It went that way yeer arter 
 yeer. 
 
 "Up to that time he had kept his money in his 
 pocket (he's got money, the ole rascal) and his 
 standin' in the church too. Why, he's the big 
 gest man at our meetin's. One time the preecher 
 preeched a sarmont on robbin' God by not bringin' 
 tithes into the store-house, and said every mem 
 ber who hadnt paid nothin' to God oughter to be 
 ashamed of themselves. He said it was a blasted 
 shame fer a church siety with thousands of dol 
 lars to have God go round beggin' fer a leetle 
 fifty dollar from em. Molt fust turned and then 
 sot with his back to the preecher, and then got 
 up and walked out of the meetin'. He told Bill 
 Bent who was settin' outside with a gigglin' gal 
 in a buggy that the preecher had singed his 
 feelins' all over. He lowed that a member who 
 had sung and shouted as much as he had fer that 
 church ought to be crederted with somethin', and 
 oughtn't to be insulted like a mangy dog." 
 
 "But Molt got over that. He had a heap of 
 gall, but not enough to play that racket long. So 
 he got to goin' back, and once when the preecher 
 in his sarmont hollered out in a drermatic way, 
 'It's more blessed to give than to receive,' Molt 
 hollered out Amen loucl enough to be hearn down
 
 IQO BIIvDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 to the forks of the road. Arter that he seemed 
 to consider his standin' sot up agin." 
 
 "Well, it was not long arter that when Molt 
 bought that track down on the river and moved 
 nigh me. We was neighbors. He built him a 
 right nice house. He was allers good at makin' 
 money, ef he is no count. So the Stewarts that 
 yeer give me Molt's name. The Stewart who 
 had him was mighty glad. He said I was wel 
 come to him. I didn't say nothin'. But, Ivry, 
 you've never lived in the kentry, and you dont 
 know nothin' about weasuls and sich. I had a 
 hunderd chickins kilt one yeer by a measley 
 weasul. I watched fer that weasul fer nearly a 
 yeer. But I didnt watch fer him as much by a 
 sight as I watched fer Molt Henry to get some 
 money from him. He was as cunnin' as that 
 weasul and as slick as a otter. On every 'casion 
 he escaped from my hands. Confearance was a 
 comin' on, and I was raly afeared that I was 
 a-goin' to make a plum failure of Molt Henry." 
 
 "But Proverdence hoped me, Ivry. It wasnt 
 no luck. It was pure blank Proverdence. 
 
 "This is the way it was. Jest afore confearance 
 I was over to Hinton one day. That's our regular 
 tradin' place, you know. I was talkin' to Hines 
 in his offus, when Sim Blalock cum in. Hines
 
 MOLT HENRY'S QUARTERAGE. 191 
 
 and Blalock are both great Methdists. They was 
 a axin' me about matters on the sirkut, the 
 preecher, the Confearance, etc. I told 'em all 
 about my troubles as Stewart, specially bout the 
 time I was havin' with Molt Henry. When I 
 mentioned Molt's name I saw a quare-like look 
 come into Sim's face. He said : "Come out to the 
 lot, Bildad. I want to show you the likeliest hoss 
 you ever sot your eyes on." I went with him. 
 He did show me his hoss, which was no shakes, 
 but he took me to one side and told me how I 
 could manage Molt. When he told me, I felt 
 almost as proud somehow as when I got jined 
 in marriage to Lizy, and I give Sim an extra 
 squeeze of the hand when I left him." 
 
 "I went by Molt's house that evenin'. As I 
 rid up I seed him at the barn, and he was sad- 
 dlin' a hoss as fast as he could. I knowd he was 
 goin' to take the road to the crick. So I takes 
 a lane leadin' to the barn and cuts him off afore 
 he thought I had retched the house. He was 
 mighty glad to see me, he said. He said he was so 
 glad I had come as soon as I had, 'fer' says he, 
 'I was about to ride over to the mill place and 
 I would have missed you.' " 
 
 "Without any p's and q's, I told him my bis- 
 ness. He knocked a fly offen his hoss, studied a
 
 IQ2 BIUDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 while and said: "I reckin, Brother Akers, you 
 Stewarts has a hard time. Peeple ought to be so 
 willin' to give that it would be a pleasure fer you 
 to do your work." 'Eggsactly,' says I. Thert 
 he went and looked up into the winder of the 
 barn loft, the Lord knows why, and then come 
 back, and cleareu .^s throat and said : 'Brother 
 Akers, I am sorry to put you off, sence Confear- 
 ance is so nigh, but I guess I'll have to do it onless 
 you kin wait ontell next Monday.' I knowd he 
 was usin' the same old tricks on me, and I knowd 
 what I wanted. So I says: 'I am powerful anx 
 ious to fix up my list by to-morrow/ which was 
 Sunday. 'Well,' says Molt, 'I guess I'll have to 
 give you a jew bill.' His .die jew bill had been 
 worn to a frazzle in the pockets of other Stewarts. 
 'Eggsactly, Molt,' says I. 'Here's a pensul and 
 a piece of paper. Write off your jew bill.' He 
 looked pleased a sight. He said, 'Brother Akers, 
 the church needs all the money it can git, and as 
 I had to fall a leetle short last year, I'll stretch 
 myself this year.' I knowd the least he intended 
 to give anything, the bigger he had always made 
 his jew bill. So he laid the paper on the saddle 
 and writ somethin'. It was a jew bill fer twenty- 
 five dollar to be paid outen the fust money he 
 should git. He had wrote sich jew bills for stew-
 
 MOLT HENRY'S QUARTERAGE. 193-: 
 
 arts afore, but it shorely meant somethin' this, 
 time, though he didn't sense it a bit." 
 
 "He said : 'Go in the house and eat a bite. I'll 
 have to leave you a spell.' I said, 'Hold on, Molt,, 
 I've got somethin' fer you. I seed Sim Blalock 
 over to Hinton today and he axed me to fetch- 
 you fifty dollar which he said he owed you on 
 that piece of land you sold him,' and I handed 
 him twenty-five dollar. He knowed what that 
 meant. Ef you ever saw a face turn green and 
 yaller at the same time, it was Molt's face. He 
 started to say somethin', but he changed his mind 
 and writ out a receet fer fifty dollar. I said 
 goodbye and left." 
 
 "They said it made Molt sick and that he laid ^ 
 abed about all day Saddy. But he was out to , 
 meetin' on Sunday and sot one bench nigher the . 
 pulpit than afore. When I nounced that Molt 
 had paid twenty-five dollar, fifteen dollar more'a , 
 he was sessed, the Stewarts could hardly take it 
 in. When I tole em how it was done, they wanted 
 to draw up a set of thank resolutions. But I 
 wouldnt let em. That's how I c'lected Molt 
 Henry's quarterage." 
 
 "As I said, Proverdence come to my help and 
 He shorely done it bekase I had His cause on 
 my mind and heart. Ef I hadn't been thinkin' and j 
 13
 
 194 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 talkin' about His bisness over to Hinton on a 
 week-day, Sim Blalock would not have give me 
 that money and Molt could never have a played 
 into my hands. Don't you see when a Stewart is 
 a workin' all the time fer Ole Marster he's goin' 
 to do somethin?" 
 
 I felt the force of the reasoning and appreci 
 ated the lesson. 
 
 By this time we had returned to Bildad's stop 
 ping place. The moonlight and the trees had 
 laid the pavement with a mosaic as beautiful as 
 Florentine art could produce, and the peaceful 
 stillness of the piazza was a silent invitation for 
 me to prolong the interview, but I knew that it 
 was time for my old friend to be in bed. So I 
 bade him goodnight.
 
 THE CREED OF BILDAD AKERS.
 
 "A pusson never gits so nigh to God as when he is 
 carryin' erlong with him some other pusson he has been 
 prayin' fer." Bildad Akers.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 It was on one of those golden afternoons in 
 latter autumn that I sat in my office and stole a 
 respite from exacting editorial labors to look out 
 through the open window into the full glory of 
 the afternoon. Above the noisy street arched a 
 pale blue sky which seemed to smile a benediction 
 on all things below. The maple trees on the 
 edge of the side-walk wore orange robes more 
 beautiful than the far-famed mantles which grace 
 the shoulders of an eastern princess. Each glow 
 ing leaf seemed to emit an amber radiance as 
 soft as that which shines through alabaster, and 
 the whole glorious crown of foliage shook down 
 a flood of softened radiance which one can see at 
 any time in a grove of maple trees in Octeber. 
 Part of the golden flood was gushing through 
 the window, overflowing the whole room, and 
 filling my soul with the music of tides that 
 beat on no visible shore. I was noting the 
 new beauty added by the amber light to the red 
 and white roses in a vase on the desk, when a 
 visitor was ushered in. He came in with heavy 
 step and a hale bluff salutation, bringing with 
 him, it seemed, an atmosphere of keen throbbing 
 realism an atmosphere, carried, as you have
 
 198 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 doubtless perceived, by every vibrant positive 
 soul. 
 
 I was not sorry to see Bildad Akers. The in 
 visible light which streamed from his simple white 
 nature harmonized with the visible glow of the 
 maples and the whole color tone of the drowsing 
 October afternoon. 
 
 He did not sit down at first. He said that he 
 was "jest passin' through on his way home from 
 a sale and thought that he would have time to 
 drap in fer a few minutes and see as how Ivry 
 was gittin' on." 
 
 I thanked him for such consideration and such 
 a favor and begged him to be seated. With the 
 statement that he couldn't stay long, he sat down 
 on the other side of the desk. 
 
 While going through the inevitable conven 
 tional preliminaries of conversation, which seem 
 to be instinctively demanded when two friends 
 meet, I noticed that the lines around Bildad's 
 mouth were not as sharply drawn as usual. There 
 was undoubtedly in his eyes a softer look than 
 they generally hold, and there was in the tones 
 of his voice a caressing tenderness which was 
 almost foreign to him. I was so impressed with 
 these changes that I ventured to say, "You feel 
 good to-day, don't you?"
 
 THE CREED OF BILDAD AKERS. 199 
 
 The reply was, "I gess I feel purty peart fer 
 a man of my yeers. I have jest come from a sale 
 whar I made a good trade. I don't owe no man 
 nothin', and I have a sight o' good frends. I 
 reckin tho ef I pear to be feelin' onushially good 
 its bekase of what I seed and felt at our meetin' 
 at Ebenezer a week afore last. It peared to me 
 that I got nigher to God endurin' that meetin' 
 than I had got in a long time. I had been pray- 
 in' fer yeers fer too men who growed up with 
 me good nabors and havin' good pints, but they 
 was jest so onthinkin' and keerless that they had 
 allmost lowed salvashun to slip by 'em. As I 
 said, I had been pray in' fer yeers fer them too 
 nabors, and evry time a meetin' past by leavin r 
 them men out in the dark of sin, it throwed a- 
 kind of damper on my enjyment of the meetin'. 
 But at the last meetin' they give under and come 
 out on the Lord's side. They are mighty happy 
 men now, but I caint beleeve that they are as 
 happy as the man who has been prayin' fer em so 
 many yeer. I've got a heftier faith in God's 
 promuss to answer pra'r, and when he tuk them 
 men into his fold it peared that he leaned outer 
 the winder and give Bildad Akers a smile which 
 jest went to his hart and is thar yit. Maybe 
 that's why you axed me ef I wasn't feelin' good
 
 2OO BILDAD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 terday. A pusson never gits so nigh to God as 
 when he is carryin' erlong with him some soul he 
 has been prayin' fer. Yes, that's so, Ivry." 
 
 It was evident that the Christ-Man held domin 
 ion over the rugged soul of Bildad Akers. I said : 
 "Bildad, I've known you, it seems to me, a long 
 time. We have talked about many things, but I 
 have never heard you tell your religious experi 
 ence." 
 
 "Yes, that's so," said Bildad. "Maybe you 
 don't know that I have what you might call a 
 quare noshun of relijus experunce. I don't be- 
 leeve a man's rale relijus experunce is made up 
 of what he feels and does at them odd times 
 when he rastles in pra'r or gits a blessin' at a 
 meetin', or anything like that. Of cose, at them 
 times, he gits a visit from God and that means a 
 sight. But my idee is that rale experunce is in 
 deelin' with common everyday life, when a man 
 tawks with his nabor, trades at the store, plows 
 his mule in new groun, feels like cussin' and don't, 
 pats a enemy on the sholeder instid of throwin' 
 rocks at him, gits up at three o'clock in the 
 mornin' to visit a sick nabor, gives money to the 
 church when he aint got but mighty leetle any- 
 whar, bein' mild and sweet-tempered on scourin' 
 day when things is all torn up in the house,
 
 THE CREED OF BILDAD AKERS. 2OI 
 
 gittin' down from a mule on a weekday when 
 you are all gommed up with sweat and dust to 
 tawk to some ornery sinner about his mean ways, 
 and sich. Now experunce, cordin' to me, is helt 
 in all them things, and jest how you do and come 
 out o' them things detarmines a man's rale ex 
 perunce. And you kin git more relijus expe 
 runce outer one day when rumatiz is goin' fer 
 you than outer a hunderd meetin's. You may 
 not feel so bloomin' happy in the rumatiz bisness, 
 but you have got a sight better chance to show 
 God how much relijun you've got. So I reckin 
 its bekase I've got them views that you don't 
 hear me orate bout my convarsion and the num 
 ber of times I have got happy in meetin's. These 
 times is when God jest visits me. But walkin' the 
 common muddy roads of everyday life is the 
 time when God is naterally hankerin' to walk 
 with me. And your real experunce comes when 
 He walks with you jest like Enick walked with 
 Jehovy. I don't know ef you ketch my pint, but 
 it is mighty clar in my own noggin." 
 
 "I reckin one reason I'm a Methdist is be 
 kase my mammy and daddy was. Another rea 
 son, I like the doctrine of the Methdists, not as 
 sayin' that other churches has not a site of doc 
 trine that I kin tie to. I was never a biggotty
 
 2O2 BILDAD AKERS : HIS BOOK. 
 
 Methdist. That's lots of Baptisses and Presby- 
 teruns and sich whats a sight better than me, and 
 that's why I'm a Methdist. I need better heftier 
 docktrine to balance me and keep me on the level." 
 "I was convarted when I was mity young. I 
 think the life of my mammy and daddy and what 
 I larned and felt in Sundy Scool had more to do 
 with my seekin' Christ and jinin' the church than 
 anything else. I wasn't convarted right arter a 
 long stay at the altar and arter much weepin' and 
 takin' on, though many is. I was convarted right 
 arter my will give up the last thing I knowed 
 God didn't like. I sensed the change as clar and 
 strong as I would sense the change in takin' the 
 last steps from a dry bank inter the cold water. 
 Sence that day I have douted myself, my relijun, 
 the relijun of others, but never the fack that 
 there is reality in relijun and that Jesus Christ 
 does fergive sins. The idee of me havin' any pa- 
 shuns with what ole man Ellitt said some time 
 ago ! When a man knows a thing, he knows it, 
 and thats me when it comes to sayin' ef thar is 
 raly anything rale in relijun. So I have never 
 been in the habit of nosin' round among strange 
 hifalutin' doctrines. To know that ef a pusson 
 gives up his sins Christ will save him and tell him 
 he's saved and keep him saved as long as he's
 
 THE CREED OF BILDAD AKERS. 203 
 
 willin' to be kept saved, and help him to save 
 others, and help him more to save himself the 
 more he helps to save others this is bout the 
 kernel of all my doctrine, and I've been standin' 
 on it a long time." 
 
 "That's why most of my relijun has been in 
 doin'. The doin' is jest the sprout comin' from 
 the seed of my doctrine, and the life of the Sperrit 
 is in that seed. A pusson kin jest by himself git 
 But I'm not a-sayin' that the hunny is not some- 
 thin' in the hands of God he's got to do it through 
 some work fer another pusson. That's the mane 
 reason I'm a Stewart and have been so long. The 
 idee of a Christian who don't do nothin' is as re- 
 dickulus to me as the idee of a fisherman who 
 never tetched a pole or drug a net." 
 
 "I naterally love to hear preechin'. When you 
 see Bildad Akers outer his seat you may know 
 he's sick or on a jurny. I never hearn a gospel 
 sarmont that I didn't get some hunny outer it. 
 But I'm not asayin' that the hunny is not some 
 times like ole Mrs. Tanker's buttermilk nigh 
 all water. Thar's one thing I think the present 
 day preechin' is a-likin' in. I don't think it deals 
 enuff with the little plain everyday sins and 
 vartues. That's why so many act as ef it is all 
 right fer em to git mad, and use bad words, and
 
 204 BILDAD AKERS: HIS BOOK. 
 
 tattle bout their nabors, and not pay debts, and not 
 keep clean, and waste time, and abuse themselves 
 in varus ways, and lie in givin' in taxes, and 
 cheatin' at the poles, and sich jest so they hang 
 on to the doctrins of the church and go to meet- 
 in', and pay quarterage and sich." 
 
 "Now, Ivry, I have give you purty much all I 
 have to tell you about my relijun. It don't 
 amount to much, but I wouldn't trade it off fer 
 all the mules and hosses and farms and gold and 
 silver in the world. So ef you don't heer me 
 offen give in my experunce you kin member 
 what I now tell you." 
 
 At this juncture Bildad heard the market-house 
 clock strike four. He said, "Bless my soul, ef I 
 didn't come in to stay jest a minnit, and now jest 
 look at the time that has went by. I sartinly 
 must go. Confearance will soon be here, won't 
 it? My preecher tole me he had evrything up 
 and but here I'm still a-gassin' when I ort to 
 be on the way to the depo. Good-bye fer this 
 time." 
 
 Thus Bildad Akers confessed his faith. I was 
 glad of it. The sparrows were twittering out 
 side the window, the amber glow of the maple 
 trees was deepening in the light of the westering 
 sun, the roses on the desk were sending out their
 
 THE CREED Of BILDAD AKERS. 2O5 
 
 wealth x of delicate perfume, editorial duties were 
 calling me. Yet, for minutes and minutes, I sat 
 with closed ears and eyes, beholding with eyes 
 which see the invisible the vision of a simple 
 child-like soul whose every chamber was aflame 
 with the presence of the Eternal. It was the 
 soul of Bildad Akers, the quaint rugged philoso 
 pher of old Ebenezer.

 
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