wild man of the woods. It was with great difficulty he could be kept from running off towards the Indian territory. Finally he agreed to stay one moon, and under a combination of young ladies, who visited and encouraged him, his affections were gained, and he became civilized. He afterwards married, and only a year or two ago I had information that he was living near Waco.

The Indians would come down on these expeditions about full moon, get up their booty if possible in the early part of the night, and travel by moonlight till day. During the day, while they rested, spies were kept in bunches of timber on the high prairies. The finances of the government were so weak, and the few soldiers so scattered, that they could seldom be gotten together in time to overtake the Indians. Thus our minute men were compelled at their own expense to keep guns, ammunition and war horses, or allow these red men in most instances to go unpunished.

Our meetings at Plum Grove were continued. The instrumentalities were feeble, but God "out of weakness brought forth strength," and there were a few professions of religion. We visited the little organization at old brother Joseph Burleson's, twelve miles above Plum Grove. As Elder Abner Smith, their pastor, was paralyzed and helpless at the time, by request of the church I baptized sister Dancer into the fellowship of the church, who had professed conversion at the Plum Grove meeting. This was done about the first of March, 1839, in the Colorado River, some eighteen or twenty miles above Lagrange, and was my first baptism in the State. This was the first baptism that I have any account of west of the Trinity.

An announcement was made that several persons would be baptized into the newly constituted church at Plum

Grove, at the next meeting, two weeks off. The time arrived, and we found persons present from the neighborhood of Columbus, forty miles down the Colorado River, and others had come from the settlements above as high as forty miles. Men living eighty miles apart took each other kindly by the hand at a little monthly Baptist meeting, their hearts bound together, not simply by the bonds that united frontier men so closely, but united by that spiritual union that God ordained should exist in Christ, before the sons of God shouted at creation's morn. After the sermon, and the ordinary preliminaries of a Baptist conference on Saturday, nine candidates came forward and gave the reasons of their hope. I was again greatly encouraged by the presence of brother R. E. B. Baylor, from Lagrange. Sunday morning, at ten o'clock, we met at the water, and after a short discourse on the subjects and action of baptism, nine converts testified their belief in the burial and resurrection of Jesus, by allowing themselves to be buried in and raised out of the water of the Colorado River. On retiring to a small house, with an arbor of brush built in front of it for the occasion, brother Baylor, in his usual happy manner, preached a most excellent sermon. Regular monthly meetings were held during the spring, with sixteen additions in all to the little church. This embraced about all the material then in the neighborhood, except the twin brothers, Wm. and J. V. Wright, who carried their convictions along, and were subsequently baptized.

This season of refreshing from the presence of the Lord greatly revived the drooping spirit of the way-worn traveller, and as we surrounded the table, with brother Baylor and these dear brethren, and ate the bread and drank the wine, my poor soul blessed God in faith that the wilderness

of the Colorado would blossom as the rose, and that the solitary places along this fertile valley would one day be made glad. The Plum Grove Baptist church still lives; is the mother of the churches of the Colorado valley; and in her age is still blessed with a large membership and practical godliness.

CHAPTER X.

WHAT SHALL WE DO?-1839.

HILE the little band of Baptists was being

increased and strengthened, the clouds of war,

east, north and west, hung heavily over the land. Gen. Edward Burleson was the leading Indian fighter of the west, with Jack Hays, Ben and Henry McCollough, Caldwell, and others of like spirit, all in readiness at any hour to engage in the most daring expeditions. The spring and summer of 1839 furnished ample opportunities.

For about fourteen years the Cherokee Indians had held undisputed possession of Eastern Texas, north of Nacogdoches. Being an agricultural people, they had previously given no trouble. Cordova and other Mexican emissaries succeeded in breaking up the amicable relations between the Texans and Cherokees, and now Gen. Rusk in the east, in command of some five hundred men, was fighting and driving the enemy north. Bowles, the Cherokee chief, was killed in one of these engagements, and the Indians were driven off, of course greatly exasperated, and determined to avail themselves of every opportunity in future to avenge the blood of their chief and fallen warriors.

The tide of immigration continued to pour into the country. The small crops, made under disadvantages the previous year, could not meet the demands of the increasing population; provisions were scarce and high, and there was

but little money in the country. We were hard pressed for subsistence, and the last peck of corn in my house was divided with the widow and orphan at Lagrange. I was then a citizen of that place.

News had for several days been circulated that a wagonload of flour was due from Houston. As we sat eating about the last bread on hand, and a little anxious as to where the next would come from, my little son came running in from town, and stated that the wagon had come, and that the people were around it like a flock of blackbirds. The scanty meal was left unfinished, and in company with the lad I was soon at the wagon. The wagoner was rolling the barrels out, and whoever got his hand on the barrel first claimed it. The writer, full six feet two inches high, with arms in proportion, could reach about as far as any other man present, and soon claimed flour by virtue of possession. The flour was rolled home, and soon the wagoner came for his money. No questions were asked about price when I took possession. The price was now asked, and stated to be fifty dollars. I was never so glad to get flour before; but was forcibly reminded that a few such purchases would give my pocket-book the swinny,- a disease right hard to be cured in those days by an honest man. Some of my property must be sold in order to meet my expenses, and with the hope of realizing more for it in San Antonio than at home, I made preparations for the trip.

From Lagrange to Gonzales, fifty miles, there was but one house. From Gonzales to San Antonio, there was no house. I knew the main Indian country, and determined to travel through this at night. Two Mississippians proposed to accompany me, and received my permission, provided they were willing to travel by my direction, and on my