Of my early youth I shall say but little. My father was a hard working man, and generally occupied in agricultural pursuits; and, although limited in education, he sometimes taught school, and even vocal music. He was a man of excellent morals; and he exerted himself diligently, by stern example as well as precept, to instill into the minds of his children every principle of integrity, honesty, honor and virtue. He taught us to venerate our Father in Heaven, Jesus Christ, His prophets and Apostles, as well as the Scriptures written by them; while at the same time he belonged to no religious sect, and was careful to preserve his children free from all prejudice in favor of or against any particular denomination, into which the so-called Christian world was then unhappily divided. We frequently attended public worship, with Presbyterians, Baptists and Methodists in turn, or, as circumstances rendered convenient--having equal respect for these several forms of worship and their adherents. Though my father did sometimes manifest a decided disapprobation of a hireling clergy, who seemed, in his estimation, to prefer the learning and wisdom of man to the gifts and power of the Holy Ghost. His means to educate his children were very limited; but that excellent system of common school education early established in the Eastern and Middle States afforded to them, in common with others, an opportunity to learn, and even to become familiar with the four great branches, which are the foundation of literature and the sciences. My opportunity, even in these institutions, was far more limited than most of the youths of my country, on account of my time being mostly required in physical exertion to assist in sustaining the family of my father. But I always loved a book. If I worked hard, a book was in my hand in the morning while others were sitting down to breakfast; the same at noon; if I had a few moments, a _book_! a BOOK! A book at evening, while others slept or sported; a book on Sundays; a book at every leisure moment of my life. At the age of seven years my mother gave me lessons to read in the Scriptures; I read of Joseph in Egypt, his dreams, his servitude, his temptation and exaltation; his kindness and affection for his father and brethren. All this inspired me with love, and with the noblest sentiments ever planted in the bosom of man. I read of David and Goliath;--of Saul and Samuel;--of Samson and the Philistines:--all these inspired me with hatred to the deeds of evil doers and love for good men and their deeds. After this I read of Jesus and his Apostles; and O, how I loved them! How I longed to fall at the feet of Jesus; to worship him, or to offer my life for his.