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Robertson recounts his life in company of horse thieves

By Staff
I want to continue with the Robertson autobiography this week. I left off last week where Norvelle Robertson had come home from the Revolutionary War in 1781.
I am far from censuring my father with bad motives in the arrangement, but certainly if it had been his wish to ruin me he could scarcely have adopted a better plan. The morals of the people, of course, became greatly relaxed, in consequence of the war which had just closed, and it was a place of resort gamblers, horse-thieves and all manner of dissipated and abandoned characters in the country round about. Even my landlord himself was suspected of being connected with horse-thieving. Often since, when I have reflected upon that part of the history of my life, I have been made almost to shudder at the thought of the narrow escape I made of being plunged into ruin and infamy. I ascribe it to a gracious Providence that watched over me, and not to my prudence or good qualities that were in me, that I was prevented.”
This autobiography goes on and perhaps the most poignant part has to do with the struggle he had with his faith and religion.
Next week I want to get into the lineage of the Norvelle and Robertson families.