with whom
you act in politics. I acknowledge myself to be game for you to hunt
down!

You are now a _Campbellite preacher_ as well as a _Sag Nicht
Missionary_; and the garb of religion you wear, gives a degree of weight
to your falsehoods and slanders, among strangers, that they otherwise
would not have. The idea of "_Stev Tribble_," who ingloriously fled from
this country for crimes he could not meet in open court, being a
preacher, and itinerating through the West, "in search of the lost sheep
of the house of Israel," is so ridiculous, as scarcely to be believed at
all, although there is no doubt but what he has been regularly installed
in Kentucky, and now has the "care of souls."

Why, you unmitigated old villain, your whole career, from your "youth
up," has been one of crime and revolting blackguardism. While a boy and
a young man, where Hoss's school was taught in Washington county, your
vulgar conversation, immoral practices, indecent habits, and
blackguardism, disgusted the entire neighborhood, and rendered you so
odious that no decent family would board you! All the waters of the
far-famed _Jordan_, in the palmiest days of that bold stream, were not
sufficient to wash your sins away! If the Lord Bishop of London were to
_immerse_ you as often as "seventy times seven," in the waters of "bold
Jordan," and in the name of the holy Trinity, you would still remain
what you were when you fled from this country to avoid the extreme
penalty of the law--one of the greatest scoundrels for whom Christ died!

Yourself and half-brother _Havron_ were confined in Blountville Jail,
for the murder of _William Humphreys_, a promising young man, whom you
brutally assaulted and murdered in open daylight in the streets of
Kingsport, in Sullivan county, and without provocation! _You_ were tried
and convicted of _manslaughter_, and branded in the _hand_ and on the
_cheek_. After being branded, you _bit the letters out of your hand_,
and _clawed them out of your face_, but the _scars_ are to be seen in
both. Indeed, I have been written to, to know why these scars are on
your face! I take this method of answering those inquiries; and
publishing them in my "Whig," which has a circulation of 5,000, and our
"Campaigner," which circulates 7,000 copies, I shall be able to
introduce you to as many persons as may have heard you preach my
funeral.

While in the Blountville Jail, with your half-brother, Havron, whose
blow killed Humphreys,