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[Illustration: BISHOP W. M. WEEKLEY, D.D.]
TWENTY YEARS ON HORSEBACK
OR ITINERATING IN WEST VIRGINIA
by
W. M. WEEKLEY, D.D.
Author of “Getting and Giving,”
“From Life to Life,” Etc.
“Take thy part in suffering hardship as a good
soldier of Christ Jesus.”—2 Tim. 2:3
Nineteen Hundred and Seven
United Brethren Publishing House
Dayton, Ohio
All Rights Reserved
Preface
It was not my purpose, in the preparation of this little volume, to make
it an autobiography, but rather a narration of incidents connected with
the twenty years of humble service which I tried to render the United
Brethren Church among the mountains of West Virginia.
These incidents present an all-round view, in outline, of the real life
and labors of the itinerant preacher, a third of a century ago, in an
isolated section, where the most simple and primitive customs prevailed.
While some of the things related will doubtless amuse the reader, others,
I trust, will lead to thoughtful reflection, and carry with them lessons
inspiring and helpful. The introduction should first be carefully read by
those who expect to be profited by a perusal of the pages which follow.
That good may come to the church, and glory to our Redeemer through this
unpretentious publication is the prayer of its
AUTHOR.
Kansas City, Mo., May 1, 1907.
I have examined the manuscript of “Twenty Years on Horseback, or
Itinerating in West Virginia,” and cheerfully submit this note of
commendation.
The author, Bishop W. M. Weekley, D.D., I have known for more than thirty
years. He entered the ministry when young, with an undivided heart
and determined purpose. During the years he served the Church in that
State he traveled over almost the entire territory of the West Virginia
Conference. The country then was extremely primitive; but simple as the
mode of life was at that time, the field was an interesting, even an
enjoyable one for a minister who could endure hardness as a good soldier
of Christ. I am acquainted with nearly all the sections of the State
referred to, and am therefore familiar with many of the places, facts,
and persons mentioned, and can assure the reader that the author has
given a faithful account of these in his book. No statement is overdrawn
or warped for the sake of effect.
W. W. RYMER.
Columbus, Ohio, May 3, 1907.
An examination of the following pages caused me to live my early life
over again. Having spent twenty-three years in the ministry within the
bounds of the West Virginia Conference, and having been intimately
associated with the author of this volume during the most of that
period, I am very familiar with many of the places, persons, and events
mentioned, and can testify to the correctness of the record he makes,
and to the faithfulness of the pictures drawn. This book will stir the
thoughts and rekindle the fire within the old itinerants, and, as well, I
trust, arouse the young to larger activities in soul winning.
R. A. HITT.
Chillicothe, Ohio, May 4, 1907.
The author of this book and myself were boys together. We were born
and reared within four miles of each other, were converted in the
same church, and for years were members of the same Sunday school and
congregation. We were licensed to preach on the same charge, and spent
the earlier years of our ministry in the same conference together.
In many instances we traveled the same roads, preached in the same
communities, and mingled with the same people.
After having examined the contents of this volume in manuscript form,
I am sure it contains a faithful description of the varied conditions
which made up the life and experiences of the United Brethren itinerant
minister of that time among the hills and mountains of West Virginia.
A. ORR.
Circleville, Ohio, April 30, 1907.
Contents
PREFACE
INTRODUCTION 9
CHAPTER I 15
CHAPTER II 27
CHAPTER III 44
CHAPTER IV 58
CHAPTER V 70
CHAPTER VI 86
CHAPTER VII 100
CHAPTER VIII 121
Illustrations
BISHOP W. M. WEEKLEY (_Frontispiece_)
W. M. WEEKLEY AT TWENTY YEARS OF AGE
W. M. WEEKLEY AT THIRTY YEARS OF AGE
TRAVELING A DISTRICT
HOUSE WHERE BISHOP FIRST WENT TO HOUSEKEEPING
Introduction
The past lives through the printed page. The ages would be blank if books
were not made recording the events and achievements of men. No form of
history is more interesting and profitable than that which recites the
career of those who, obedient to their divine commission, proclaimed to
fellowmen the sweet message of Christ’s redeeming love. The completeness
of their consecration, their undaunted courage and persistency in the
face of many difficulties, and their marvelous success evidence in them
the presence of superhuman power. It is the genius of Christianity
to inspire and develop the unselfish and heroic in men. The splendid
specimens of self-sacrifice and moral courage, which adorn the pages of
Christian literature, charm the reader and inspire him to more Christlike
endeavor. These life-stories constitute a rich, priceless legacy for
present and future generations.
In this admirable volume, Bishop Weekley has modestly removed the
curtain from twenty years of his own strenuous ministerial life spent
in the mountains and valleys of West Virginia, and given the reader a
conception of what it meant to lift up the Christ and extend his kingdom
in that rugged region. The book is biographical in character, but since
“biography is the soul of history,” it is history in reality. The
scenes and events which he presents suggest the character of the work
which others had to do in laying the foundations of our Church in those
sections.
It would be difficult to find more striking examples of Christian
altruism and heroism anywhere in this country than the godly men who
preached the gospel among the mountains and in the valleys of the
Virginias in the early years of our denominational history. These men
embodied those elements of character and graces of the Spirit which
are essential to success in Christian work anywhere. Having heard the
call of God, and having felt the spell of the divine spirit, they
yielded themselves unreservedly to the gospel ministry. They possessed
strength of conviction, singleness of aim, earnestness of purpose, and
concentration of effort. As a rule these pioneer preachers had but one
business—that of the King. They were so absorbed in the saving of men and
women, and in extending the kingdom, that they gave but little attention
to present physical comforts and future needs. Many of them were without
property, and when they sang,
“No foot of land do I possess,
No cottage in this wilderness,”
there was a literalness about it which would have dismayed men of less
faith and consecration. Without seeking to enrich themselves in material
things they labored earnestly to bring the spiritual riches of heaven to
the hearts and homes of others.
They were busy men—men of action. They omitted no opportunities to
do good. Intervals of rest were few and far between. The modern
minister’s vacation was to them unknown. They met their “appointments”
with surprising regularity. Neither storm, nor distance, nor
weariness thwarted their plans. Their announcements were always made
conditionally—“no preventing providence”—but they never calculated for
providence to prevent them being on hand at the appointed place and
hour. The strain of toil was constant, but their iron resolution, and
the work itself, proved a strong tonic. The success of one service was
inspiration for the next. Visiting from house to house, exhorting the
people to faithful Christian living, distributing religious literature,
and preaching week days as well as Sundays made their lives full of heavy
tasks, all of which were performed with happy hearts. They possessed the
glowing and tireless zeal of the preaching friars of the Middle Ages, and
with many of them the clear flame of their zeal was undimmed until the
fire was turned to ashes.
They were men of thought as well as action. Their preparation was made in
the college of experience, in which they proved themselves apt students.
They studied few books and only the best. They cultivated and practised
the perilous art of reading on horseback. They pored over books and
papers in humble homes by flickering candle or pine-knot light long
after the family had retired. It is remarkable what extended knowledge
of the English Scriptures, methods of sermonizing, oratorical style and
forceful delivery these men acquired. They knew well, and by that surest
form of knowledge—the knowledge born of verified experience—all they
proclaimed in message to the people. There was freshness of thought,
aptness of illustration, and forcefulness of expression that was native
to them. The majestic forms of nature in the regions where they toiled
inspired in them the sublimest thoughts of God and his eternal truth. The
marvelous results of the sermons of such men as Markwood, Glossbrenner,
Bachtel, Warner, Nelson, Graham, Howe, Hott, and others proved them great
preachers in the highest and truest sense.
They were men of tact as well as thought, and adjusted themselves to the
conditions. They preached wherever the people would assemble—in leafy
grove, by the river bank, in the humble home, in the log schoolhouse,
in the village hall, in the vacant storeroom, and in the unpretentious
church-house. They did not always have the exhilarating and inspirational
effect of great crowds, but they preached “in demonstration of the
Spirit,” kindling the deepest emotions in their hearers, often arousing
them to tremendous intensity and causing waves of overpowering feeling to
sweep over them. Saints shouted the praises of God and penitents pleaded
for mercy. These heralds of the Cross employed none of the familiar
devices of modern times for securing crowds and reaching results. There
were no specially-prepared and widely-scattered handbills, no local
advertising committees, no daily newspapers with flashing headlines
and portraits, no great choral or orchestral attractions. What made
these fallible men so forceful and successful in winning others? The
explanation lies in the fact of their spiritual enduement. They wrought
in the name of Christ and under the influence of the Holy Spirit.
In no portion of our Zion have ministers made stronger and more lasting
impression upon the people. Whenever present in a home they were
the guests of honor. Their strong personalities and noble traits of
character, as well as their calling itself, won for them the esteem of
old and young. Parents named their children after them, and exhorted
their sons to find in them their models for manhood. In thus honoring
these noblemen of God they exalted the work of the ministry in the minds
of the young, and prepared the way for the Lord to call them into his
service. This may account, at least in part, for the great number who
have gone into the ministry from these mountain districts.
Let no one fancy that somber shadows rested continually upon the pathway
of these ministers. There was a joyous side to their ministerial life.
When together as a class, or among their parishioners, their stories
and jokes were abundant, spontaneous, and of the purest type. When they
met at institutes, camp-meetings, and conferences they enjoyed one round
of good cheer and solid comfort. Their services of song drowned all dull
cares. Their lives had shadows, but they refreshed themselves in the
rifts and glorious sunbursts.
The people to whom these men of God proclaimed the gospel were not, as a
rule, rich in material things, but they possessed great hearts, in which
love and kindness flowed as pure and refreshing as the streams of water
that rippled down the mountain side.
We rejoice that Bishop Weekley has given to the Church this book. Many
aged ministers, who once toiled in the Virginias, will live over again
the scenes of their lives as they read these pages. Young men will be
stimulated to more earnest endeavor as they learn of the hardships and
complete consecration of God’s servants in pioneer days. No one will
weary in reading this excellent volume. The good Bishop has written in
harmony with an established sentiment in book-making—“it is the chief of
all perfections in books to be plain and brief.”
W. O. FRIES.
_Dayton, Ohio._
CHAPTER I.
The Virginias have turned out more United Brethren preachers, perhaps,
than any other section of the same size between the oceans. These
pulpiteers have ranged in the scale of ability and efficiency from A
to Z. Some achieved distinction in one way and another; others, though
faithful and useful, were little known beyond their conference borders.
Nor have all remained among the mountains. Dozens and scores of them have
gone out into other parts of the Church. At this writing they are to be
found in no less than nineteen different conferences, and, as a class,
they are not excelled by any in devotion to the Church, in unremitting
toil, and in spiritual fervor and downright enthusiasm. Some—many who
spent their lives in building up the Zion of their choice among the
Virginia hills, have gone to glory. Among these heroes I may mention J.
Markwood, J. J. Glossbrenner, Z. Warner, J. Bachtel, J. W. Perry, J. W.
Howe, S. J. Graham, I. K. Statton, and J. W. Hott. Other names, perhaps
not so illustrious, but just as worthy, are to be found in God’s unerring
record. The historian will never tell all about them. Their labors,
sacrifices, and sufferings will never be portrayed by any human tongue,
no matter how eloquent, or by any pen, however versatile and fruitful it
may be. Footsore and weary, dust covered and battle scarred, they reached
the end of their pilgrimage and heard heaven’s “well done.” What a
blessed legacy they bequeathed to their sons and daughters in the gospel!
“Old Virginia” was, in part, the field chosen by Otterbein himself, and
by his devout colaborers. This was more than a hundred years ago. In 1858
the Parkersburg, now West Virginia Conference, was organized out of that
part of the mother conference lying west of the Alleghanies—a territory
three hundred miles long, roughly speaking, by two hundred in width. In
its physical aspects the country is exceedingly rough, and difficult
of travel. But the people, though mostly rural in their customs and
mode of living, and many of them poor, so far as this world’s goods are
concerned, are warm hearted, genial, and hospitable. When a preacher goes
to fill an appointment among “mountaineers,” he is not troubled with the
thought that perhaps nobody will offer him lodging, or willingly share
with him the bounties of his table. I have found things different in
other parts of the country.
[Illustration: W. M. WEEKLEY, Twenty Years of Age
Traveling Circuit]
The new conference was organized at Centerville, in Tyler County, by
Bishop Glossbrenner, in the month of March. Only a few ministers were
present, but they were brave and good, ready to do, and, if need be, to
die for their Lord. Five miles from this historic place the writer was
born on the eighteenth day of September, 1851.
My parents, though poor, were honest and honorable, and toiled
unceasingly to provide for and rear in respectability their ten children,
of whom I was the oldest.
The neighborhood was far above the average in its religious life and
moral worth. A man under the influence of liquor was seldom seen, and a
profane word was hardly ever heard. The United Brethren Church was by
far the leading denomination in all that country. The old log church
in which we all worshiped stood on father’s farm, and our home was the
stopping-place not only of preachers, but of many others who attended
divine service. At times our house was so crowded that mother was
compelled to make beds on the floor for the family, and not unfrequently
for others as well. But to her it was a great joy to perform such a
ministry for the gospel’s sake. Her loving hands could always provide for
others, no matter who they were, or how many. For the third of a century
father was the Sunday-school superintendent in the neighborhood, and,
for a longer period, teacher of the juvenile class. Thus he saw little
children pass up into other and older classes, and finally to manhood and
womanhood, when by and by their children came in and were given a place
in “Uncle Dan’s” class.
At the age of fourteen I was born the second time, and united with the
Church. The occasion was a great revival held by Rev. S. J. Graham,
of precious memory. Seeing my oldest sister, Sarah, bow at the altar,
greatly moved my young heart. A few moments later I observed father
coming back toward the door, and thinking perhaps he was wanting to speak
to me on the subject of religion, I immediately left the house. My state
of mind became awful. The next evening I saw mother pressing her way
toward me through the standing crowd. I knew what it meant, and sat down
with the hope of concealing myself from her; but how vain the effort!
What child ever hid himself away from a mother’s love? Putting her hand
on my head, she said, “William, won’t you be a Christian?” I made no
reply, but said to myself, “I can’t stand this; I must do something.” How
her appeal, plaintive and tender, made me weep! It was really the first
time she had ever come to me with such directness and warmth of heart.
To this very moment I can feel the touch of her hand and hear her loving
appeal. The next day I talked with other boys who were with me in school,
and asked them to accompany me to the “mourner’s bench,” which they did.
At that time the class, though in the country, numbered one hundred and
seventy souls. Three months later, I was appointed one of its stewards,
and with this office came my first experience in raising money for the
Church.
The next year I was elected assistant class-leader, and though young and
inexperienced, I rendered the very best service I possibly could.
My educational advantages up to this time had been only such as the
common schools afforded, with the addition of a close application to
study at the home fireside, aided by the historic “pine torch” and
“tallow candle.”
From the day of my conversion I could not escape the thought of
preaching. The duty of being a Christian was never set before me more
forcibly and clearly than was the duty of preaching; but I hesitated.
My ignorance, and lack of fitness otherwise for such a high calling,
appeared as insurmountable barriers. I could not understand why God
should pass by others, better in heart and far more capable, and choose
me. So the struggle went on. In the mean time I began to read such books
as I could secure. The Bible, “Smith’s Bible Dictionary,” and “Dick’s
Works,” constituted my library. The last named was rather heavy for a lad
only in his teens, but I rather enjoyed such studies. The first book I
ever purchased was “Religious Emblems,” which proved exceedingly helpful
to my young life.
When seventeen I preached my first sermon, or, perhaps I should say,
made my first public effort. It was in an old log church on Little
Flint Run, in Doddridge County. Brother Christopher Davis, a local
preacher, was holding a meeting, and at the close of the morning services
announced that I would preach at night. What a day that was to me! How
I tried to think and pray! When I reached the church I found it full,
with many standing in the aisle about the door. I felt so unprepared—so
utterly helpless—that I immediately retired to a secret place, where
I again besought the Lord for help. Returning, I started in with the
preliminaries, but was badly scared. No man can describe his feelings
under such circumstances. Many a preacher who scans these pages will
appreciate my situation. I spent a good part of the first fifteen minutes
mopping my face. I seemed to be in a sweat-box; but by the time I reached
my sermon, or whatever it might be called, the embarrassment was all
gone. I still remember the text: “And I will bring you into the land
concerning the which I did swear to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to
Jacob; and I will give it you for an heritage. I am the Lord.” It was
immense; but the most of young preachers begin just that way. At this
distance from the occasion, I do not recall anything I said, and am glad
I cannot. However, there was one redeeming feature about the effort,
and that was its brevity. In twenty minutes I had told all I knew,
and perhaps more. I have never been able to understand why the people
listened so patiently. They really seemed to be interested, but why, or
in what, I have never known. I have not tried that text since, and I do
not think I ever shall. It is too profound to even think of as the basis
of a discourse to common people.
Dr. J. L. Hensley, when pastor of Middle Island Circuit, early in the
sixties, had a somewhat singular experience in this same log church.
While preaching one Sabbath morning in midsummer from the text, “The seed
of the woman shall bruise the serpent’s head,” the people at his left
suddenly became excited, and looking around quickly for the cause, he
observed a snake, about two feet long, crawling in a crevice of the wall
near the pulpit. Reaching for his hickory cane, which he always carried,
he dealt the wily creature a blow which brought it tumbling to the floor,
remarking at the same time, “The seed of the woman shall bruise the
serpent’s head.” Thus in the midst of his discourse he was furnished an
illustration which made a profound impression upon his hearers, and aided
greatly in bringing the truth home to their hearts.
The presiding elder, Rev. S. J. Graham, my spiritual father, by authority
of a quarterly conference held at the Long Run appointment, October 23,
1869, gave me a permit to exercise in public for three months. Shortly
after this I was prostrated with lung fever, which soon developed the
most alarming aspects. Though the ailment was outgeneraled, the process
of recovery was slow. In fact, one of my lungs was so impaired that
consumption was feared. A noted physician, after carefully diagnosing my
case, frankly told me that nothing could be done for my lung; but I did
not believe a word he told me. I had decided that I would make preaching
my life work, and believed that God would give me a chance to try it.
It might be noted here that ten years later this same doctor was in his
grave, while I was a better specimen of physical manhood than he ever
was.
“Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it
to pass.” What will he bring to pass? The right thing, and in the right
way. Such has been my observation and experience in all the years that
have come and gone since the hand of affliction was so keenly felt.
December 25, 1869, I was granted quarterly conference license in a
regular way, and attended the annual conference which met in Hartford
City, Mason County, the following March. Much of the time while there I
was not able to walk from my stopping-place to the church, though not a
half dozen blocks distant. Some of the brethren feared that I would not
live to get back home again. But I wanted a circuit. With that end in
view I had gone to conference, and no amount of persuasion could turn me
aside from the one great purpose that had taken complete possession of
my soul. I was entering the work with a full knowledge of what it meant.
I had heard the brethren talk of their privations and abundant labors,
and, as well, of their victories and joy of heart. The report of the year
then closing was most suggestive. The eighteen fields of the conference
contained one hundred and sixty-seven preaching places, and had paid
twenty-four men a little less than $140 each upon an average, not
counting outside gifts. West Columbia Circuit paid its two pastors, Revs.
W. B. Hodge and I. M. Underwood, $400. The next highest was $339.19,
and was paid the brace of pastors who served the Glenville charge—Revs.
W. W. Knipple and Elias Barnard. The other sixteen pastorates ranged
from $267.15 down to $35, the last named amount having been received by
Rev. J. W. Boggess, on Hessville Mission. The Parkersburg District paid
Elder Graham $227.87, while West Columbia District only reached $152.85
for its superintendent, Rev. J. W. Perry. To the support of each of the
districts, however, the parent missionary board added $100.
When the Stationing Committee reported, my name was read out as the
junior preacher for Philippi Circuit, with Rev. A. L. Moore, pastor in
charge. This appointment was given, as more than one assured me in later
years, simply to satisfy my mind. No one expected me to go to it. As the
field already had a man, my failure to reach it would make no difference
in any way.
Returning home I told father what had been done, and that I must have
the necessary outfit for a circuit-rider; namely, a horse, a saddle and
bridle, and a pair of saddle-bags. No matter what else a man had, or did
not have, in those days, these things were essential to efficiency among
the mountains of West Virginia.
At once I began preparations for leaving home. Mother was thoughtful
enough to make me a pair of leggings which buttoned up at the sides and
reached above the knees. No one article made with hands was ever more
valuable to a Virginia itinerant than leggings.
Philippi Circuit was seventy-five miles distant among the mountains, and
would require, owing to the bad roads, two and a half days of hard travel
on horseback to reach it. At the appointed time, April 11, 1870, early in
the morning, I rode out of the old lane and up the hillside. All I had of
earthly possessions was in my saddle-bags. One end contained my library,
(Bible, Hymn-book, “Smith’s Bible Dictionary,” “Binney’s Theological
Compend,” “Religious Emblems,” and one volume of “Watson’s Institutes,”)
while in the other was stored my wardrobe, scant and plain. When far up
on the side of the hill I looked back and saw mother standing on the
porch. She had not ceased to watch me from the moment I started. Tears
unbidden filled my eyes, and with these came an appreciation of our home
that I had never experienced before. The home had been humble, to be
sure, but it was Christian. We had a family altar, from which the sweet
incense of prayer ascended daily to God. I could truthfully say:
“Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow thee.”
A mile distant I joined, by a prearranged plan, Rev. G. W. Weekley, my
uncle, and Rev. Isaac Davis, both of whom were also en route to their
distant fields of toil.
At the end of the second day we reached Glady Fork, on Lewis Circuit,
where my uncle lived. How weary after so long a ride! At that time my
health was still so precarious, and my strength so limited, that I could
not walk a hundred yards up grade without resting. To dismount from
my horse, open and close a gate, and then get back into the saddle,
exhausted me. Remaining over a few days with my uncle, I tried to preach
on Sunday morning, but found myself exhausted at the end of twenty-four
minutes. In a few days, however, I was sufficiently rested from my long
ride to journey on to my own circuit, where I soon found the preacher in
charge, and plans were discussed for the year’s work. This was historic
ground. It was an old United Brethren field, having been traveled by
Statton, Stickley, Warner, Hensley, and others, in the late fifties and
early sixties, when it included twenty or more preaching-places, spread
over portions of several counties.