Annals of our ancestors; one hundred and fifty years of history in the ...

OVER THE MOUNTAINS 63
I have not been able to raise the funds high enough yet to get my
carpet, so when you send me the next twenty dollars I will have
five left and then I will have to go to the City and see if I can find
it. Do not be uneasy about your family. We have the same Protector
as when you are here. Just think did any evil ever befall me
when you were out preaching except when you went to a slave
state?
It is true I should like your presence in the family circle, but
for the sake of having one more laborer in the vineyard I yield my
right and say: "Proclaimers On!" until the song of victory is high
raised: "Now is come Salvation!"
May the Lord prosper you in speaking "all the words of this life,"
and give you that strong confidence in his promises that will keep
your mind calm. Just think "The eyes of the Lord are over the
righteous and his ears are open to their prayers. ' So if we sustain
the character of the righteous we are all safe through grace.
I will have to cut short my discourse, work, you know, is always
abundant. S. Watkins.
B. U. Watkins.
Dear Father: I wish you were at home. You do not know
how well we get on eating sweet potatoes. I generally get up and
milk before sunrise. I go to school now. We have a real pedagogue.
Anson is topping corn and says he intends to top the whole lower
fields. I believe I have no more to say, but remember that gold
dollar. I have bladed fifty bundles of blades. W. Watkins.
This was Brother William's addition to mother's letter. I
also essayed to write something, but "My dear father" is all
that remains extant. I thoroughly marked out the rest on
that page and cut out what I had written on the next because
of certain remarks of my big brother concerning my chirography
or, more probably, my spelling. He himself did not
at the age of fourteen promise to become the beautifully clear
penman he eventually did, but how characteristic of him is the
word "pedagogue." In those days I was usually called by
my second name, "Ann."
The spirit of the times is shown in mother's reference to
a "slave state." Those old days are gone now, and with them
went the slave's bonds from our land. I look at this faded
letter, and I can but meditate on those years of childhood. I
was but eleven years old when I ruthlessly scratched out my
attempt at letter-writing, and Sister Ida was but five. Our