On my way to R----, late in the evening I began to inquire for some place where I could spend the night, as the indications seemed to be that a hard night’s lodging was before me. As I inquired at each little cabin, they told me that “Parson W----,” a few miles ahead, kept lodgers. As these mountain miles are slowly measured by a tired man and horse, I did not reach “Parson W----’s” till near nine o’clock at night. When I entered his little cabin, he and his wife and granddaughter were at a supper of corn-bread and buttermilk. I asked for lodging, which was granted, and was at once invited to supper. As soon as the parson was done eating, he went and put up my horse. On his return, I asked him if he had any pastoral charge. “Yes,” said he, “I built a church on my own land close by, and preach there every other Sunday.” We were soon engaged in a religious conversation, and my views of truth were soon tested. “Well,” said the old parson, “I thought you was a Methodist preacher, but I find I was mistaken; but I _guess_ you are a Presbyterian, which is no better.” Finding the old man belonged to what was called the _Ironsides_, or rigid Antinomians, I thought it quite useless to talk to him. Before I could get rid of him he made me tell my business. “Well,” said he, “you are going about plundering the country. It was the Bible, Tract, and Missionary Societies that broke up the country in 1837 and ’38.” As I was tired, and proposed to go to bed, “Well,” said he, “there is a bed in that corner for you.” “As you are a preacher,” said I, “of course you have family prayer, and I would prefer waiting to join you in it.” “Ah,” said he, “every one does their own praying here.” “Is it possible,” said I, “that you are a preacher, and have no family prayer, when God has said he will pour out his fury on the families that call not on his name?” “Oh,” said he, “you may pray if you please.” Seeing an old family Bible on a shelf, I took it down, and read a part of the seventh of Matthew. I commented on the verse, “Strive to enter in at the strait gate,” etc. The moment prayer was over, he said, “I don’t believe a word you said.” I was soon in bed and asleep, being tired. When I awoke there was a good fire, and the old man sitting beside it. I was up in a few minutes. “I am glad you are up,” said he, “as there is another point I must discuss with you.” In a few minutes I quoted proofs from the Bible too clear to be resisted; when the old woman, who was of huge dimensions, sprang out of bed in her night-dress, and presenting herself before me, said, “Don’t talk to that fellow; he is a Yankee, and he is setting traps to catch you.” The old man soon disappeared to attend to his still-house and cattle, and the old woman and granddaughter occupied the whole front of the fire, making their toilets; the old lady, in her earnest conversation, frequently using a long wooden fire-poker in close proximity to my head.