The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-08-18
VOL. 13. NO. l3.
OLD TILDY.

HI uC4AAy ONOhy uoiS AuOAAOOOO VI tuc south, there comes, in the fall of the year, a sort of religious wave. Men, who, during the summer swore at their horses and stopped but little short of blasphemy, in imprecatory remarks addressed to obdurate steers, turn reverently, after fodder-pulling time, to Mt. Zion, Ebeneezer, New Hope and Round Pound, to hear the enthusiastic pleadings of the circuit rider and the begging injunctions of the strolling evangelist. Roberts Cove, in East Tennessee, is neighbor- hood typical of this peculiar religious condition. Last autumn, when the katydid shivered on the damp oak leaf and the raccoon cracked the shell of the pinching "crawfish," there sud- denly appeared at Ebeneezer meeting house young man of most remarka- ble presence. He was handsome, tall, graceful and with hair as bright and waving as the locks of the vision that come to Clarence in his awful dream. He said that his name was John May berry. He had come to preach the gospel in simple, child like way, and hoped that his hearers, fer the good of their souls, would pay respectful heed to his words. A materialist would have called him a fanatic, but as there were no materialists in that neighborhood, he soon became known as a devout Christian and a powerful worker in the harvest field of faith. He read hallowed books written by men who lived when the ungodly sword and the godly pen were at war against each other, and in his fervor his language bore power which his rude hearers had never felt before.
 One night, after stormy time at the mourners' bench, and while wo- men whose spirits were distressed still stood sobbing about the altar, May berry approached well-known mem- Der of the church, and said:
 "Who is that peculiar old woman, that wrinkled and strange-eyed dwarf who sits so near the pulpit every night?"
 "We call her old Tildy," Brother Hendricks replied. "She has been a-livin' in this here neighborbood mighty nigh ever sense I kin ricol- leck. She's mighty strange old woman, but I never hearn no harm uv her."
 "She may be a good woman," the preacher rejoined, "but she casts chill over me every time I look at her. Goodbye, Brother Hendricks. Think of me tonight when you get down on your knees"
 The preacher sought his temporary home. He lived about a mile from the church, in an old log cabin with one room. Many of the people had offered him home, but, declining, he declared that he wanted to be alone at night, 90 that, undisturbed, he could pursue his studies or pray for inspira- ton.
 The hour was late. The preacher had taken down "Fox's Book of Mar tyrs" and was looking at it's thrilling illustrations, when knock at the door startled him.
 "Ceme in," he called.
 Old Tildy stepped into the room, and, quickly closing tine door, stood with her back against it. She nodded her head and smiled-a snaggle- tooth grin-and said:
 "How air yer, Brother Mayberry?'
 q am very we'll, I thank you."
 Powerful glad ter know that folks air we'll"
 ssThank you; but what business can you have with me at this time of night7"
 @Mighty 'portant biznes, Brother Mayberry, mighty 'portant."
 3Does it concern your soul7"
 ssNot ez much CT it do yourn, Brother May berry; not nigh so much e it do yourn."