Autobiography. Sketch of life and labors of Miss Catherine S. Lawrence, who in early life distinguished herself as a bitter opponent of slavery and intemperance

Introduction

The writer of the following pages having been solicited frequently by her friends and by members of the Grand Army corps to give her life and her labors in the army to the public, has, after long consideration, consented, though somewhat reluctantly, to do so.

The writer of this preface has acquainted himself quite thoroughly with this little volume while in its manuscript form, and he is prepared to pronounce it a highly interesting work and well adapted to promote Christianity and good morals, such as can be introduced safely into the best and most refined families or libraries in the land.

The authoress claims to be a lineal descendant of Capt. Lawrence of the frigate Chesapeake, and she frequently applies to herself throughout this work the words used by that hero of the war of i8i2, '' Don't give up the ship." The indomitable pluck which seems to have characterized her career from childhood to a period of over three score and ten, is evidence of her having descended from a noble ancestry. Thus in her case tradition is confirmed by inheritance.

The publication cannot fail to be read with especial interest by all who were actively engaged in putting down the late Rebellion. This book should have a j

large sale and wide circulation, not only on account ]

of its fearless advocacy of truth and of its rigorous |

denunciation of injustice of every form, but because |

of the material aid which the sale will secure to her, \

as she approaches the end of the voyage of life. I

The government has not been as liberal with her, •) by way of awarding a pension, as it has in many

other instances much less deserving. Her pension 1

of twelve dollars per month is not large enough to ]

furnish her with the common comforts of life, as I every impartial judge must admit. It is hoped and expected that the proceeds of the sale of this work

will so supplement this pittance, which she receives \ from the government, as that life's sunset shall be

undimmed by the mists of anxiety and unobscured i by the clouds of want.

CHESTER HARRIS. ,

Albany, April 20, 1893. . \

Chapter I

"Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done.

Has earned a night's repose." — Longfellow.

After disposing of my first edition many of my friends and readers urged me to give them more of my real life. My reply was that time and means had both been limited, but I would give them more in my next edition. Consequently I add to my book, sketch by sketch, and will commence by relating an incident connected with a recent visit.

I had been invited to spend the day with a family of old friends. Mother, son and myself were pleasantly seated conversing on different topics, when in came another member of the family — a professional gentleman. After shaking hands cordially he accosted me with, " I am mad at you, Kate ; I am going to quarrel with you."

I felt a queer sensation at the top of my head. It must be that the roots of my hair are disturbed. Quickly recovering myself I said :

'' Madness, doctor, means hydrophobia, and if we are to quarrel, doctor, sit down and let's have a pleasant time of it."

"Well, I have read your book three times through."

^' And that is what gave you the hydrophobia, is it?"

" No," said he, " I approve of it, but there is not enough of it. Why did you not give us more of your real life ?"

" Yes," said I, " but the book, even before reading, has brought an epidemic of hydrophobia to some portions of our city, especially among the managers of our charitable institutions ; but perhaps another dose of the same medicine might prove an antidote for the ill effects of the first. But if I were to give you the details of my whole life it would fill a volume as large as Webster's Lexicon. Then nobody would read it. Now the book is of a readable size. Then, you know, it is altogether dis"- agreeable to look in a mirror and behold nothing but our OAvn deformities. Satan is said to keep his cloven foot well covered, lest it proclaim him Satan, when he would pass as a saint, and, if my book should prove like a mirror, the more there is of it the more aggravating it might be, unless it might also give us some suggestions of reform."

Chapter II

•' For the soul is dead that slumbers And things are not what they seem." — Longfellow,

In the morning of life we are very unsuspecting creatures. All things are just what they appear to be.

The artless child dreams of no disagreement between the apparent and the real ; but before the sun has reached its zenith, and while it is yet forenoon, we are cruelly surprised to find that " it is not all gold that glitters," and our diamonds prove too frequently to be but burnished brass.

Who of us, even as children, have not found ourselves sadly mistaken in our estimate of people and things? When character and quality have proved a failure, our supposed jewels only worthless pebbles, our beautiful things but deformities, and disappointments have seemed almost to crush our young hearts, and drive us back within ourselves, until we fairly recoil from the touch of humanity, we become so distrustful and cynical that we feel prone to let faith drop entirely and drift with the tide. Like the little girl, who, upon finally learning that Santa Claus was only a myth, lost faith in her parents, and coming to her mother, said : " So there is no Santa Claus after all, and it is only you and papa who fill my stockings on Christmas? " '' I suppose so," her mother replied ; when the child with childish disgust said, ''And I don't suppose there is any God either ; you have probably been fooling me about that too."

This loss of faith in childhood, this finding out that older people are not so good and pure as we have thought them to be, is one primal means of sending many a little boy and girl to the bad, and ultimately filling our prisons and electric chairs.

It is so extremely difficult to distinguish between the false and the genuine that we are constantly mourning over disappointments from misplaced confidence and treacherous friendships. What we want and what we need is more real life and more of real truth in our lives.

Chapter III

*' Two tender feet upon the untried border Of life's mysterious land." — Ajiou.

The little girl of Mr. L. has strayed away. The villagers and lower neighborhood are all out searching the woods and farm, and draining the raceways and flumes, but have found no trace of the child. The raceway leading from the upper mill to the oil mill below is about an eighth of a mile. This was thoroughly searched, every corner of the mills was gone over, the company was about giving up the search and were fearful that she must have gone to the large stream, which was very high at this time. It would be very difficult to find her. Just at this time Mrs. S., who was living on the bank near by, as she was walking along, noticed some little doll's garments fastened on the hooks of the tender bars. She thought for a moment, " this is Kittie's work. She has surely gone to the large stream and is drowned ! Before I see her mother I'll go down the bank and see if I can find any traces of her." Very soon she found little footprints in the sand. *' Now I'll see where she found her way into the water ; working my way through the brushes, I came to a large flat stone projecting into the water, and there lay the little adventuress fast asleep with a doll garment in one hand, the other under her head." Mrs. S. looked at her a moment and said to herself, *' Well, you are a little body, but you have raised a regiment who are fighting for you on land and water ! " She caught her up and carried her up on the bank, held her with one hand and raised her up in sight, and the nearest gun was fired which gave the signal that the child was found. All this time Kittie Avas improving her lungs in high soprano, and was taken to her mother.

Among the workmen was a fine musician who taught dancing school in winter and worked in the shop the rest of the year. He had a long table in the shop and on this he gave Kittie lessons in dancing. She had an outfit of tight pants made of red pressed cloth, a sailor jacket and soldier cap. She was fond of dancing and made great progress. She had no playmates, being the youngest of twelve children, and those living were grown to man and womanhood, and some were married. But Kittie would always find something to amuse herself with. One day, after her mother had dressed her nicely, she went out to catch birds, as she called them ; found a large number gathered around a mud puddle. She approached them softly with her apron uplifted, fell upon them, as she thought, but her butterflies were not to be caught, but Kittie was in a sad plight ; her face and dress were covered with mud !

Kittie had a place of punishment, a little stairway room with a stool in it; in this she was put, sometimes for a half hour or more or less, according as her disobedience demanded. This was called by Kittie her jail-house. When she sav/ herself covered with mud she knew that she was now to go to her place of punishment. Off she started and entered her jail-house unperceived. She remained there until the regiment was on duty. She opened the door softly, peeped out her head ; her mother looked up, saw the little fright and almost fainted, saying : " Kitty, is that you ? " '' Tesmam." " Where have you been?" " In my dail-housCo" "Who put you there?" "My own self." "What made you go there ? " " Tause I was naughty and dot muddy." "And then you went into your jail-house?" " Tesmam." " Well, something must be done with you, my lady, this will never do ; every few days the whole place is in an uproar in looking after you — the workmen have to quit their work and lose three or four hours to find you." " Will oo teep me in my dail-house, mama, and may Wooly tay by me?" All this time Kittie was going through a process of having the mud washed from her head and face which had dried on. Her father comes in. " What in this world is the matter now with my little girl?" "Yes," said her mother, " look at her, she was mud all over catching butterflies." " Yes, papa, I dust went in my dail-house a drate while." " Yes, my little heroine, and had a regiment at your command ; you shall have a ride

II

with me to-morrow. She has to do something, she has no one to play with her but Wooly, her cat.'* " Yes, papa, Wooly is so dood, tan her go riding to-morrow?" "No, Kittie, she can't ride horse-^ back ; I can't hold her and you both on the horse." The next day Kittie had a fine ride on horseback with her father. She said : " Papa, they tant put me in my dail-house to-day ; nor they tant hunt for me tause I taint there."

Kittie and her cat Avere constant companions ; Wooly could open the doors and walk in at any time. Her father was expected to be out the coming night until a late hour and gave orders to leave the back hall door unlocked. That night after the family had retired the mother awoke and heard the rattling of the room door-latch. She listened but heard no footsteps. She became alarmed, arose and stepped out into the hall and called up the help ; the house was soon lit up and a thorough search was made. The family living on the bank came to the house to: help solve the mystery. Both the room and hall, doors stood ajar. There was at the time a few hundred dollars in the book-case which was undisturbed. But surely some mischief was intended. Both families held a genuine watch-night. Only Kittie and her cat were asleep regardless of the watchers. The day following the father and mother and Kittie were in the room. The door was shut. They were talking over what had transpired the previous night when the same rattling of the latch began, the door opened and in came Miss Wooly. Kittie snatched her up in her arms, saying: ''Papa, Wooly tan open every door in the house." The father said to her : " Take Wooly and put her out of the back door and shut it." Kittie did as she was bid, put Wooly out and shut both doors. In a few minutes the latch of the hall door commenced rattling, and then the room door-latch, and in came Wooly purring around Kittie. " Well," said the father," there is your burglar." Mother said : " We must give that cat away." " No, ma, Wooly is mine and you tant give her away taus I go with Wooly." " No," said her father, " they can't take Wooly from you, and you shall have a nice ride to-morrow ; Wooly can keep your regiment out at night, and my little lieutenant can command them by day." "Yes, papa, I tan." Kittie had a nice ride the next day. Shortly after this, Kittie was missing again. Her regiment were looking for her, when one of the company saw her on the back piazza rubbing her eyes. As he approached her, he said, " You little runaway, where have you been ? " "I taint runaway, I was sleeping." "Sleeping; where were you sleeping?" " Under my bed." " What made you go under your bed ? " " Taus the flies tudent bite me." " Now, my little girl, you will be taken to your jail-house." " Tes, Wooly, tan go with me, and papa tan take me riding."

The poor child had become so accustomed to her jail-house that she was sure the penalty would be paying for a ride. She was always cheerful if she could have Wooly to accompany her. She was always questioned by her father when he came home if she had been a good girl. She would tell him all ; how she and Wooly were to go to the jail-house, " taus she go sleep under the bed and tudent hear them call."

When Kittie was quite young she was inclined to be religious. She was taught to say her prayers at night, and would almost always remember the text when she came from church. One Sabbath there was communion at the church. Kittie wondered why she was passed by. Very soon three of her little friends came to spend the rest of the day. Kittie went into the cellar, took a bottle of spruce beer and some cake, and said to her little company, '' Come with me down to the mill." The oil mill had a large platform. On this she invited her company and said to them, " This is Sunday. We must be good. Now we will have a meeting. Augustus must be the minister and I will pray. Then we will sing 'The New Jerusalem Came Down.' Then Augustus will give us the communion." All this was done with great solemnity. The benediction was: '' Lord, keep us. Amen."

We returned to the house. My company stayed to tea, and left for home. " What is the matter with my little girl? She is looking very sober.'* '' I is very good, papa ; I took the communion to-day." ''What!'* "Yes, papa, we all did; Gussie was the minister ; I prayed, and we all sung ' New Jerusalem,' and Gussie gave us cake and beer, and we don't play ' it is Sunday.' " " Well, Kitt, I don't know what to do with you." " Send me to school, papa." ^' It is too far for you to go alone ; we shall teach you at home, until you are older." From this time her schooling commenced. Her father would teach her at night, or some member of the family would teach her, until she was six years old. She then went to school.

The early years of school life passed pleasantly, filled with such incidents as a naturally romantic girl usually meets with. I loved my teachers and they seemed fond of me. I remained in school until I was fourteen years old, and had, even though young, noted many things which I shall hereafter speak of.

CHAPTER IV. "Lead me to mercy's ever-flowing fountain

For thou my shepherd, guard and guide shall be."

At the age of eleven I was awakened under the preaching of Rev. J. Wait, a Methodist clergyman. I was hopefully converted and united with the Reformed Church, of which the Rev. Paul Weidman was pastor. This godly man was installed under very discouraging circumstances. The former pastor was a man wholly unfit for his charge, cruel in his family and very intemperate. The flowing bowl flowed altogether too freely in the house of the shepherd, and too many of his flock followed in his footsteps. Consequently the church had become greatly demoralized. And here I must speak of a rather amusing incident connected with the prevalent intemperance of the church.

Among the farmers living some distance from .church it was of course desirable to have dinner as nearly ready on their return home as possible ; therefore, whatever preparations could be made before starting for church were usually made. In one family the good housewife had decided upon a dinner of sauerkraut and pork, and as the kraut needed more cooking than the pork the good woman placed the sauerkraut in the kettle and the pork on the table to be added to the boiling mess at the last moment. She also placed on the table, where they would be handy, her little foot-stove, hymn-book and handkerchief. She had also imbibed freely of her bitters, as the morning was cold and she must be kept warm ; therefore, for her stomach's sake, she had perhaps taken a drop too much. At length her husband drove to the door with the sleigh. She hastened to put the pork in the kettle, wrap the hymn-book in her bandanna, catch up her foot-stove and get into the sleigh. This lady had a fine voice and was one of the leading singers. Arriving at the church she took her accustomed seat conscious of being ^' all right." The minister prayed and read a hymn. The woman unwrapped her handkerchief to get at her hymn-book, when to her utter surprise, and to the amusement of her nearby companions, she had the pork carefully wrapped and brought to church, while the hymn-book was at i6

home calmly singing in the kettle with the sauerkraut. Nevertheless this was a highly respectable woman, a generous, kind-hearted woman, beloved by her friends and respected by her acquaintances, the mishap to her hymn-book being due entirely to the prevailing practice of that day, viz., drinking rum.

But under the preaching of Mr. Weidman, who was a wide-awake, God-fearing Christian gentleman, things began to improve. The indifferent, apathetic, wine-bibbing church members began to awaken to a true sense of duty. Revival succeeded revival until what had been but a church dormant became a church militant. One of the most powerful church awakenings ever felt in Central New York occurred under the preaching of this earnest man ; and yet, after a time, this minister, who had labored so assiduously for this people, and who had succeeded in building up a church in numbers and prosperity until it shone a beacon-light to the surrounding Christian world, was brought into trouble with his church. Mischief-mongers began circulating the statement that he was preaching his old sermons over the second time. It was said that whenever he came to the bottom of his basket he would begin at the beginning again. This accusation was absolutely false, as many knew. He did repeat a sermon on one occasion by special request, and this was a strong point with his enemies. Disagreeable comments were made against him, he was not up with the times, was old-fashioned in his style and opinions, his oratory was not fine enough to satisfy a certain few who knew as little of true oratory as they did of Greek, and probably could not have given any kind of definition of the word had they been asked. These are the kind of people who are always the most eager critics. Differences, disagreements and complications arose until it was no longer pleasant to minister to this people, and the pastor severed his connection with his once loved church and sought other fields of labor, leaving many, however, whose friendship for him and reverence for his memory will know no end.

Mr. Weidman was my first spiritual teacher. He it was who first awakened in my young heart the desire to benefit others, and at the age of twelve years I was anxious to be a missionary. My pastor told me I was too young, but gave me a missionary pamphlet, on the title page of which was the portrait of a hideous creature in the form of a woman in the act of devouring a living infant. She was called by the natives " Female Devil." As such they worshipped her as their idol, or their god. My pastor said, '' Kittie would you like to meet ho;, and what would you do with her?" ''Yes, I would like to go and kill her." '^ But we don't send missionaries to kill the heathen, but to Christianize and save them." " Yes, but she is the devil and eats babies, and who ever heard of a Satan being saved ? Mr. Weidman, I would kill her if I cculd kill the devil." This ended my first missionary panic. A latent longing for missionary work has 2 i8

always pervaded my whole life, and now, at the age of three score years and ten, I still think that had I been educated and prepared for the work, it might have proved my most successful field of labor.

But to go back to our church. Pastor after pastor succeeded Mr. Weidman. Their stays being short, little good or satisfaction was gained by their ministries. At length the life of the church began to assert itself. A new church edifice was erected and an eloquent and fearless man was installed its pastor. For several years the church prospered greatly, the minister being popular, and comparative harmony existing. As I said, the minister was a fearless, out-spoken man, and on a Thanksgiving he though it best to point out some of the shortcomings, some of the sins of omission and commission of the infallible four hundred. He gave a plain truthful sermon which probed the recesses of the secret heart, but it sealed his doom. The popular pulse had been touched, a sharp lancet had struck many a vein of pride, vanity and selfishness. The hit aristocratic birds fluttered till their flapping wings created — not only a gentle breeze — but a general cyclone which wafted the incautious pastor to another part of the country.

Chapter V

'* Standing with reluctant feet Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet," — Longfellow.

But a heavy affliction awaited me. Within three months I lost my father and mother. I had just reached the age of fourteen, and was left homeless. I had acquired a thorough knowledge of the common English branches and had commenced in several of the higher studies, but now the time had come for me to leave school. I must earn my living. O, my, what shall I do ? I can cut and make my own dresses, but I dare not undertake to do for others ; but I did do for others, and in less than two months I had done quite a little work. Just at this time a friend came to me and asked, would I like to teach school? '' O, yes, but I am too young. They never have had a lady teacher and of course would want an older teacher." " Well, you are large enough, and they wont ask your age." " Well, if they do, FU tell them just the truth. But I would X\V^ to teach." In a few weeks I was called upon for examination before Judge G., Lawyer D. and Dr. P. S. I passed, received my certificate and commenced teaching the first of May. I opened my school by reading a chapter in the New Testament with my scholars,, and had prayer.

My school was but two miles from the village, and this gave me an opportunity to continue my studies and recite them to my former teacher, Mr. W., the principal of the academy. My school was quite large, which required more than my lawful hours in teaching. I was very much interested in my school and became much attached to my scholars, and I was in the midst of a church-going community, of Lutherans and Reformers.

They had engaged me only for the summer months, but before the summer months were passed, I was engaged for the winter, and so on, until I had remained with the good people of Stony Brook three years and six months. I had not altogether abandoned my missionary fervor, but commenced home missionary enterprises. There was a class of natives living on the mountain a few miles from my native village. They were a mixture of colored, white and aborigines ; were given to drinking fire water, to other bad habits, and were ignorant and illiterate. They were a neglected, despised class of people. Here was a field for home missionary labor.

About this time we had a missionary meeting. A lady came to me to subscribe for another year- I said, ''No, Mrs. P., I want every dollar that I can spare for home missionary work." A short time after this I called upon this lady, asking her to let her daughter go with me on the hill to establish a Sabbath-school. '* I have already the promise of Mr. K. to go, and if you will let U. go, I will look no further." " Why, no, I can't think of such a thing. It would not be safe for you to go there. It is no place for young girls to go." ''Would you let one of your daughters go to Ceylon, or any other foreign mission?" ''O, well, that is another thing, a large company go together." '' Mrs. P., the Lord will go with me and I'll go." I received a note from a Christian young lady offering her services to go with me. So Miss M. J. Ackerman and Mr. Kingsley and myself took our lunch and off we started on Saturday morning, that being the only day we school-teachers had to ourselves.

We reached the settlement at ten o'clock and visited every cabin and hut, also a few farmers living in the vicinity. We made them acquainted with our business — the object was to establish a Sabbath-school for the benefit of those children who were not able to attend school on account of the distance, and for other reasons. We told them to prepare seats in the grove and the next day at one o'clock we would meet them, and open our first missionary Sabbath-school. After our weary day's work-we returned home. I then called upon a few of our friends to go with us the next day, as teachers, and to take suitable books for those poor children, also for the adults. The next day, after morning service, there was quite a little company of us home missionaries marching up the mountain with a pretty good supply of books. We were all very happy, on reaching the place, to find a large company, varying in age from five to fifty ; among the number was a fine-looking colored woman named Mary, who was raised at the South. She seemed to have been living with people of intelligence and refinement. I became very much interested in her as my pupil, and in a short time she could read in her Testament and was hopefully converted, In the winter season we met at one of the cabins. The trio was very punctual — neither lost a Sabbath during the first year. No matter what the weather was, rain or snow, they too were at their post. In a little over a year there were between twenty-five and thirty united with the church. We had preaching as often as we were able to procure a minister, and prayer meeting once a week. A school-house was erected and the log cabins and huts have disappeared, and many of the children of the Sabbath-school grew to be respectable, and married into good families and made good citizens. It has lost the old name of ^' Slaughter hill," and the mountain is now a beautiful farming neighborhood. The Sabbath-school continued for a number of years.