Almost without exception, I found my ministerial brethren in the Brush men with perfect health. This I attributed very largely to their out-of-door life, their horseback-riding, and the fact that they communed far more with men and nature than with books. More than this, I found them cheerful men. They loved and enjoyed their labors. They enjoyed their long rides to preach to a dozen or more at an out-of-the-way appointment--enjoyed preaching, praying, singing, shouting--enjoyed laboring with "mourners in the altar" until late in the night, and they could scarcely speak for hoarseness--enjoyed seeing them "come through" (the vernacular for conversion), hearing them shout, and receiving them into the church--enjoyed class-meetings, quarterly-meetings, camp-meetings, love-feasts, and conference--enjoyed the familiar and affectionate greetings of parents and children, the cordial welcome, and the free and unrestrained social intercourse that awaited them in their pastoral visitations in the Brush--enjoyed with the relish that comes from real health and hunger the "good things" the sisters provided for them, especially _fried chicken_. I have heard it said a great many times that many of the dogs in the Brush knew a preacher as soon as he rode up to a house, and, anticipating the call that was sure to be made upon them, would start out unbidden and run down the chickens for the coming meal, and bring them to the house. I can not vouch for this remarkable canine sagacity of my own knowledge, but I can say that, when riding the circuit with these brethren, I have often seen the dogs start after the chickens upon a very _slight_ intimation, and run them down for our supper as soon as we rode up, and received from the sister, all aglow with joy at our coming, the cordial invitation to "'light" (alight). I speak of all the enjoyments I have thus enumerated from personal knowledge, for I have been with many of these good brethren in all these scenes.