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Chapter IV · Twenty Years on Horseback; or, Itinerating in West Virginia

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Chapter four of twenty Years on Horseback or I Tenerating in West Virginia. This
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LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter four. In March of eighteen
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seventy eight, the Conference assembled in Grafton, with Bishop J. J.
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Glossbrenner as its presiding officer. At this session, the brethren greatly surprised me
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by electing me one of the presiding elders. No thought of such a thing
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it ever entered my mind. I cannot see the propriety of putting a young
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man not yet twenty seven over men of age ability and experience, And hence
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it was with no little diffidence that I accepted the West Columbia District and the
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bounds of which I had already worked two years. The district contained only eleven
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charges, but these were widely scattered, embracing all are parts of the Cobble
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Mason, Jackson, Wood, Putnam, Cannah and Rhane Counties, and were
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as follows Milton Point, Pleasant Cross Creek, Thirteen, Jackson, Red House,
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Fair Plain, Sandy, New Haven Wood, and Hartford City. Later
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Walton was added. The salary assessed the district was four hundred and twenty five
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dollars out of this I had to pay traveling expenses, provide a house to
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live in, and pay a hired girl. Under such conditions I could afford
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a house of only three rooms. I never believed in a preacher, or
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anyone else, for that matter, living beyond his income. Debt is an
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awful devil for the itinerant to contend with, and should be avoided at all
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hazard. In all the years of my ministry, I have never left a
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pastoral charge or district owing anyone there on a nickel. If a man is
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fit to be a preacher, debt will distract his mind and put a thorn
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in his pillow. It cannot be otherwise with a sensitive nature. God save
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our young men from the habit and curse of debt. Making no little of
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my travel while on the district was by boat on the Ohio and Big Kanaha
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rivers. Only one of my fields was touched by a railroad, and that
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was sixty miles from where I lived. My custom was to go by boat
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to the point nearest to the place of the quarterly meeting, and then walk
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the remaining distance, whether it be five or twenty five miles. Often I
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might have secured conveyance for the asking. But I felt that it was humiliating
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to be always annoying somebody for favors. Nor have I changed an iota in
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all these years in this regard. If a preacher wants to make himself a
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nuisance among his parishioners, he can easily do so by constantly making demands upon
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them which looked to his own comfort and that of his family. Many a
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time I walked from twelve to fifteen miles in a day, held quarterly conference,
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and preached twice. Occasionally the distance would stretch out to twenty miles.
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I did not mind the labors so much as I did the suffering from sore
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feet walking in the hot sun or over frozen roads hour after hour, often
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caused them to blister and bleed. In these experiences, I was not alone.
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Many others, some of whom yet live, suffered the same or kindred
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hardships. In February of eighteen seventy nine, I was called home to my
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fathers. After a day or two, I tried to return, but upon
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reaching Parkersburg, found the river so frozen and clogged with ice that the boats
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could not run. It was Thursday afternoon, my quarterly was at Oak Hill,
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fully forty miles distant. The next Saturday, at two o'clock, the
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roads were badly frozen and almost impassable. When I saw the situation, I
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determined to make the trip overland as best I could. If I could not
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find assistance along the way, I would walk it. Leaving the city at
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four o'clock, I traveled on till darkness overtook me when I turned aside and
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knocked at the door of a humble cabin and asked for lodging, which was
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cheerfully granted, but I had made only a few miles. In addition to
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the rough roads, I was burdened with a good sized gripp and overcoat.
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The next morning, at day dawn, I resumed my journey. Once during
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the day I rode two or three miles in somebody's sled, but beyond that
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I got no help. Long after the dinner hour, I secured a cold
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lunch, which the reader may be assured was relished by a tired, hungry
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man. An hour before down, I reached Sandyville, where a warm supper
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was enjoyed at a little hotel. Still, I was fifteen miles away from
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the point for which I was aiming, and felt that I could go no
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further without help. But a kind friend generously agreed to loan me his horse
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to ride as far as Ripley, seat of Justice for Jackson County, from
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which place the mail carrier was to lead it back the next day. But
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the poor animal was shoeless and went crippling along. At a snail's gate over
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the rough road. Two miles distant, I had to cross Sandy Creek and
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found it partly frozen over. It was too dark to discern the danger of
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fording the stream. After repeated efforts, I succeeded in getting the horse onto
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the ice, but as quick as a flash, it fell broadside, pitching
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me. I never knew where, nor just how far, but the horse
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beat me up, turned its head homeward, and disappeared into the darkness.
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What did I do, well, what almost anybody else would have done under
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like circumstances. I took the backtrack and returned to the village where the animal
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belonged, and found that it had returned in good order. The next morning.
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My feet were so sore I could not wear my shoes, but was
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fortunate in securing a pair of arctics in which to travel the rest of the
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journey. By noon, Ripley was reached, where conveyance was secured, which
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enabled me to make the place meeting and call the conference on scheduled time.
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Someone may suggest that I was foolish for making such an effort to reach the
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quarterly when nothing apparently unusual was at stake. Maybe I was, but such
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was my way of doing. I always believed that the preacher ought to fill
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his engagements promptly unless providentially hindered, and then he ought to be fair enough
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not to blame providence with too much. But few days are ever too cold,
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in stormy, or nights too dark to keep a man from his appointments
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if he is anxious to preach the word and minister to his people. I
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here record the fact with feelings of satisfaction and pride, that in more than
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a third of a century I have not disappointed a dozen congregations. As I
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see it, a preacher succeeds in his work, just as business or other
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professional men succeed in their respective callings. He must bestir himself and permit no
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obstacle to get between him and duty. Any other policy means failure at it
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everywhere and all the time, and keeping everybody else at work are the only
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ways to win for the church and maintain a good conscience. Before God Conference
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met in Hartford City, the charts showed that a good year had been enjoyed,
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one thousand, three hundred and fifty four new members being reported. Of
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this number, five hundred thirty five were credited to West Columbia District. The
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second year on the district was like on to the first, full of toil,
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responsibility and peril betimes. As an indication of what was required of a
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presiding elder in order to aid his pastors and keep the work of the district.
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While in hand, I relate the following experience. A rainy winter morning
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found me on Milton Circuit, the last charge in the southwestern part of the
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conference. I had an appointment that evening at Cross Creek, thirty five miles
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east. The mud in some places was knee deep to my horse. But
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on and on I traveled over hills and along meandering streams, sometimes walking myself
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up and down steep places in order to relieve my weary horse. At last,
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when it was nearly dark, I halted on the bank of the Great
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Canaha, opposite the town of Buffalo. But how was I to get across
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the threatening stream? The ice lay piled in great heaps on either shore.
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The man who tended the ferry hesitated to come after me when I called to
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him, but he was given to understand that in some way I must be
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gotten over. Finally he agreed to make the attempt, and after hard rowing,
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landed me on the opposite side, but below the regular coming out place,
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where the ice was badly gorged. Then the real difficulty of the venture
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was apparent. We had to get the horse up and over the great blocks
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of ice that lay at the water's edge. And it was to two of
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us an exciting time. No one can describe it on paper. Holding on
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to the animal, pulling my best at the bridle rain, all the while
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the ferryman pushing with all his might. We finally scrambled over the ice and
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through the narrow passageways until a place of sa he was reached. How thankful
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I felt it when it was all over, and how I loved that horse.
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Doctor Warner used to tell how his faithful horse once swam an angry stream,
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and that after the shore had been reached in safety, he dismounted,
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put his arms around the neck of this deliverer, kissed his lips, and
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wept for joy. Itinerating in early days at West Virginia Conference meant all this,
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and sometimes much more. When I got to the church two miles farther
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on, I found the congregation waiting and ready to join in the service.
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It might be stated in this connection that in those days, the coming of
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the elder was an extraordinary event and seldom failed to bring out the entire community.
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The following evening I had an engagement to preach at Mount Mariah, still
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farther east, some thirty miles. It rained the day. Through a part
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of the journey, I followed a single trail popularly known as a hog path.
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Such a route relieved me somewhat from the mud, but being in the
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woods, I could not carry an umbrella over me. Hence had to take
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the rain as it came. But I must not disappoint the people. They
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had my word for it that I would be there, and the promise must
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be secretly kept. It was a little lafter dark when I caught a glimpse
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of the lights in the old log church. But hold I suddenly found myself
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up against another serious difficulty. Parchment Creek was out of its banks. There
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seemed no show for getting over, except to plunge in and swim my horse.
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I hesitated. Already wet and cold, I was loath to make the
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attempt. I would have to carry my saddle bags on my shoulder if I
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saved my Bible, hymn book and sermons, and the water would come to
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my waist, to say the least. Then another trouble appeared. It was
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too dark to see the road or landing place on the opposite side, and
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I might drift below it with the current and not get out at all.
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While thus cogitating, I heard some boys talking on the other side as they
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were going to church. Calling to them, I said, boys, can't
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you in some way help me over the creek? Who are you? Was
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the reply. I'm the preacher, I answered, and want to get to
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the church. After a short consultation among themselves, one of them shouted back,
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all right, we'll bring the skiff after you. Soon I heard them
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push out from the shore, and in a few moments they landed near me.
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Now, said one, you get in here with Bill, and I'll
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swim your hoss over and in less time than it takes to pen the happenings,
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he was in the saddle, on his knees and starting for the water.
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Did he get over safely? Yes, indeed he entered the stream above
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the usual place of going in. Hence the horse swam not against the current,
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but at an angle with it in every possible way. I thanked those
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boys for their kindness to me, for they had certainly kept me from putting
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my life in peril. If they are still living, and should happen to
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glance over these pages, they will readily recall the event. The church was
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nearly full of people, and I certainly enjoyed preaching to them. The Great
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Father had been graciously with me to guide my ways and to protect my life.
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How glad I will be if on the morning of the eternal tomorrow I
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shall find that the service that evening helps some soul heavenward. Reverend W.
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W. Rhymer, over thirty years ago, nearly lost his life in this
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same region on account of high wall. His horse either could not or would
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not swim, but plunged furiously when beyond his depth. The heroic itinerant stayed
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in the saddle as long as he could, but was finally dislodged and went
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down. In the midst of it all, he retained his presence of mind
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and aimed for the nearest shore, which was not far away. Being unable
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to swim, he crawled on the bottom a part of the way, and
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at last found himself where he could stand with his head above the water.
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The horse fortunately came out on the same side. Commenting on the incident,
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mister Rhymer says, after my deliverance, it was clear to me that I
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had been near Death's door and also near Heaven. Two thoughts followed. One
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was if I had not escaped, I would now be in glory, and
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I confess I felt good over that reflection. The other was, no,
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it is better that I got out, for if I had drowned, my
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parents would have had great sorrow. It took it all to mean that my
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work was not yet done, and soon experienced great peace of mind. Almost
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thirty one years have come and gone since then, but the ruling purpose of
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my heart all the while has been to preach Jesus. Before thirty one years
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more have rolled around, I shall have gone through Death's river, Yes,
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through to the other side, where I shall see my Lord face to face.
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Let the reader be assured that there is a profound satisfaction in looking back
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to those times of trial and suffering, of battle and victory, when the
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ways of Providence were so plain, and when an unspeakable jay crowned the years
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of toil and service. After another ride of twelve miles from Mount Mariah,
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I reached my home in Cottageville, near the Ohio River. How inexpressibly delightful
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to be at home again with wife and little ones. What a heavenly place
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home is when love and sunshine await the itinerant's coming. While he ministers to
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them, they also minister tenderly to him. Such mutual love and helpfulness is
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to be found nowhere else. My support for the year consisted of four hundred
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and twenty seven dollars and eighty three cents in salary, and twenty two dollars
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and forty one cents in presents. Fifty dollars of this went for house rent,
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and fully as much more for traveling expenses. Beside these outlays, we
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kept hired help in the home all the time. Buckhannon Upshur Country was the
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seat of the next session of the conference. The noble Bishop glosspo Enter was
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with us in the fullness of the spirit and charmed us with the warmth and
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sweetness of his gospel messages. As recording secretary, I edited it a little
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daily which gave the proceedings of the conference. This was the first and last
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attempt of the kind. Such an arrangement is nice, to be sure,
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and sounds well when we talk about it, but it always costs more than
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it is worth. The town papers are usually willing and anxious to report the
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work. During the session, a most amusing incident took place. A colored
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brother by the name of Waldo came to me at noon hour on Thursday and
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asked me to marry him that evening at eight o'clock. I said, Waldo,
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I cannot grant your request. We have an evening session of conference and
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I must be there. However, if you will put it off until nine
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o'clock, I will be on hand. But to such an arrangement he would
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not agree. The long looked for moment could not be delayed. Eight o'clock
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was the hour about which clustered the sweetest anticipations of his life, The goal
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toward which he had striven, must be reached and won on schedule time.
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So, with a twinkle of the eye characteristic of the Negro, he exclaimed,
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Good Lord, the thing's gone too far now, no putting it off.
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Of course, I had to arrange for another secretary under circumstances so vitally
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essential to the brother's happiness and welfare. The reason why he chose me to
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perform the ceremony, he said, was because I had converted him eight years
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before end of chapter four.