A story of Minnesota Methodism

Contents

Chapter Page

Introduction, ----- 7

I. How I Found God and Myself, 15

Introduction

When John Sherman, of Ohio, spoke of a tumultuous period in our national life, and quoted ^5Cneas concerning the Siege of Troy, saying, "All of this I saw, and part of this I was," he insured himself a careful hearing from all thoughtful people. We hunger for direct, forthright testimony from one who was near to see, wise to know, and true to tell. This book has the same impact on the mind as that statesman's utterance, and gives the same quickening to the brain. It is the witnessing of one who knows. The picturesque affirmation of one who was there, the graphic portraiture of a man who saw the panorama of the days gone by, in the Northwest, had a full share in its unfolding, and now, sitting serene by the fireside of memory, he writes the chronicles of the brave days of old to stir our blood and provide authentic material for the historian who shall come after him. This heroic age

INTRODUCTION

is gone forever. In all its vivid incidents and outstanding pageantry it is a book that is sealed and set away in the archives of the past. It is in the keeping of the " Angel of the Backward Look" and will be opened in this world no more. We are done with its rnde garb, coarse fare, slow movement, and simple environment. Life in these latitudes is now swift, sophisticated, complex, calling for deeper insight, subtler synthesis, more insistent, sustained, though less spectacular, spiritual assault. The approach is different, but the foe is the same, the flag is the same, the Leader is the same, the soul is the same, and the gospel is the same: when the author strips off the outward show, husks away the incidental, tears off the tentative, and lets us see the stalwart souls of warriors who won this empire for God and Methodism, we note the fundamental unity of their work and ours. This is the gain of this volume: to see the naked, pulsating, unconquerable spirit which animated their thin ranks, the skyey urge of their dauntless files, the other-worldly and flaming sacrifice which threw them irresistibly against the gates of hell. This is what we need now. Given this,

INTRODUCTION

we can gain the day, as they gained it. Without it we can do little now, and less hereafter. These backwoods Boanerges used methods we can not use, chanted anthems we can not sing, flashed weapons we can not wield, kindled fires we can not feed, forded streams we can not cross, and tracked forests we can not find. The heathen red man, the moccasined courier, the lusty wagoner, the viking immigrant, the Norseman settler, and the restless trail-blazers, path-finders, and pioneers are gone. No longer the lonely hollows echo the axman's blade. The hills that were dim with forests hold fruited orchards now. The singing streams where beaver builded unvexed and trout leaped in the sun are flume d and turbined now to light towns that stand where wigwam camp-fires burned, and run rattling cars where roaring herds of bison trod; where Conestoga caravans crept across the vales, the cornfields toss their tasseled leagues, and where the wolf -pack howled in the dark hemlocks ' shade, the crimson poppies ride the waves of ripening wheat. The trapper of animals is gone, the hunter of beasts departed ; but Satan lures human souls with bait of pleasure

INTRODUCTION

or power or pelf, and here the adversary transfixes unwary men and women with arrows dipped in venom of eternal death. Still a hundred lakes flow, a thousand brooks flash toward the glacial basins of the Great Lakes. Still sweet Itasca pours from her silver bowl the opulent libation of the Mississippi flood ; but Sin abounds and Vice stalks everywhere. Thus we need now, even as of old, the shining face, the lifted head, the shouting voice, the full-saved heart, the saintly soul.

We grimly say to one another in the fierce death-grips of to-day, when pressed by hellionry all about, It is a wilder battle now, crueller, deadlier than before ; but not so. It was in the wilderness the Master met the strategy and fury of Diabolus; and again, 4 'clean forspent' ' and alone, under the trees in the green gloom of the olive boughs the bitterest cup came to our Lord. These plain, natural preachers, with their shirt-sleeved procedure and slashing saber-strokes of Saxon speech, worked as dutifully and exhaustingly to lay the sDls of our Church, and we have toiled to rear its superstructure. Paul feared some of his people would depart

INTBODUCTION

from the "simplicity which is in Christ." I have the same fear for some of mine. Life now is variegated, varnished, embellished, complicated. Wrong is robed in precedents and dares crack the whip in precincts formerly barred to her. The world no longer scoffs at holiness, but patronizes and pollutes it when possible. The Flesh is so garlanded, betinseled, poetized as to lose its grossness in the glamour of Art; but its seductive attraction is as ruinous as before. Lucifer doffs his malicious scowl and deprecates with mocking laughter the purity of the children of God. One of Chauncey Hobart 's sermons now would be like a mountain breeze blowing through a fever hospital, and a Cartwright exhortation like a trumpet-blast in the silence of a canyon. The heroes herein depicted were not artificial or clipped into stilted nonentity- They were straightgrained men, with the bark on ; men to tie to, with normal cravings, modest wants, patient spirits, godly characters, rich experiences, heavenly prospects, and divine illuminations. No picture-poses for them, but blood-red pleadings to the unsaved ; no chocolate-cream sermonettes, sweet, soft, sticky, and soon

INTBODUCTION

ended, but strong homilies on the fear and the love of God, torn from their heaving souls and flung forth hot into the multitude; believing their words and Jehovah's thoughts wedded in faith would not return void, Methodism was to them a military movement. They were under marching orders. They saw the banner beckon, they heard the bugle sing the order to advance. Such stanch soldiers of the Cross were they as followed Loyola and Wesley, Asbury and Booth, and waded Poverty's black waters and Misery's deep bog to lay their offering on the altar of service and hear Him say, "Well done." Where are they now, these undaunted allies of Jesus who fathered cities, shaped states, sired empires, and seeded down the nation to the harvest of Christ? Where are Jesse Lee, Freeborn Garrettson, McKendree, Simpson, Akers, and the rest? Call the long roster now! Eise up, thou gracious genius of Methodism! Unroll the white record of their names to cheer and comfort us! Dip thy pen, and write, 0 maker of this book! Thou, who didst foregather with the fathers and broke bread with the illustrious dead. Bring: the earthquakers up again with the

INTBODUCTION

magic of thy page. Make the glen ruddy once more with the camp-meeting's flaring lamps, lighting the lifted faces all hushed and awed under the spell of the Master of assemblies. Push wide the portals of the place where they dwell. Tell us how they fared and fought and fell, and rose again and followed on. Make rapture swell our hearts till we rise and swear to walk the shining way. Eoll over us, fathoms deep, father in Israel, out of the revival-hallowed past, billows of joy, surges of love. Let us see the mourners at the penitent rail, hear the ecstatic birth-hymn, and clasp hands with prisoners set free. Tell how their sacred dust sleeps in remote plots, sweet with odor of wild flowers, and in crowded towns, where the westering sun throws on their graves the shadows of the sanctuary they builded. Tell how their spirits, robed in white, walk in glory, farther than we shall ever see; then drop thy stylus, and before you go to join them lead us in one all-embracing prayer. 0 Lord, out of the depths we cry unto Thee. Let their God be our God and their spirit be upon us. Kobeet McIntyee.

HOW I FOUND GOD AND MYSELF

No man liveth to himself and no man dieth to himself. We are members one of another, and the humblest life has such relation to other lives that a true record of it may be of value to many. Having been for more than fifty years a Methodist preacher, and most of the time a member of the Minnesota Conference, I have been asked and urged to write a history of Methodism in Minnesota. But the time, strength, and materials for such history are lacking, and all I can now attempt will be to give some account of matters within the range of my own experience and observation which may be of use to some future historian. In doing this I must speak of myself and use the personal pronoun more than good taste would allow in a more complete and more, dignified history.

I was born in Scotland in 1834 ; came with my folks to this country in 1841; lived in

Maryland, near Baltimore, till 1849, when I moved to Illinois, near Galena, where the next five years were spent. Here I became acquainted with Methodism.

Before this my associations had been with the Presbyterian Chnrch, of which my parents were members. The stern aspects of Calvinism preached then, as they are not now, had alienated me from that creed and shaken my faith in all religion.

But in Illinois my home for a time was with an uncle who was a Methodist, at whose house I read the "Sermons of John Wesley " and other Methodist books which helped me over the difficulties of Calvinism and made the Christian religion seem more credible and more attractive, and I began to pray and seek my own salvation.

In August, 1850, at Hanover, 111., I heard a sermon which made a deep and decisive impression. The preacher was Richard Haney, presiding elder of Galena District, a man of might and renown in that region at that time. He had a commanding presence, musical voice, magnetic manner, vivid imagination, was an artist in word-painting, a born orator, with the prophetic fire on his

HOW I FOUND GOD AND MYSELF

lips and in his heart given to the man who is called to be a month for God.

For an hour and a half he discoursed on Hebrews 13 : 11-14 with a pathos and power which moved me at the close of the sermon to confess my need of Christ by joining the Church on probation. I had heard learned, logical, and profound preaching before, but no sermon made such an impression as this ; and after sixty years much of it still stays in my memory. This good man took a personal interest in me after this, and his friendship and preaching were a great help to my spiritual life. One of my first pastors on Hanover Circuit was Henderson Eitchie, who is still living; a young man then, an earnest, able, and eloquent preacher and excellent singer, whose songs and sermons and lifelong friendship are among the bright spots in my religious life.

II Teaching And Learning

Soon after this I began to teach school in a Presbyterian community near Hanover. The schoolmaster had not been abroad much in that country then, and I got a reputation for more learning than I had, and my school was crowded with scholars from all the region round of all sorts and sizes, from little children up to full-grown men and women, some of them older and larger than myself; but they wanted to learn, and we had good order, no trouble, and some of them came to honor and usefulness in later life. I was eighteen years old when I began to teach, a learner myself, and think the two years spent in teaching were among the best of my life.

Part of 1853 was spent at Mt. Morris, 111., as a student in Rock River Conference Seminary, located there. The young men and women whom I met there were mostly of the earnest sort, who go from farms and country

TEACHING AND LEARNING

towns to school to get an education. Many of them were above the average in intellect, and not a few of them attained distinction in later life. Among them were future judges, governors, senators, college presidents, and eminent ministers, one of whom became a bishop. Contact with such minds in youth is not the least valuable part of an education, and I found it mentally healthful and invigorating.

The winter following I taught school in the same place as before, with a still larger school and more advanced studies. My Scotch-Irish Presbyterian patrons showed me much kindness, although at first they did not like my Methodism, but thought better of it as they became better acquainted. Their venerable pastor, Rev. Alexander Perrier, and his family were among my best friends and many pleasant hours were spent in their hospitable home.

In the spring of 1854 I was in Beloit, Wis., a student in the college there, the only Methodist then in that Congregational school. My roommate was Moses Hallett, of Galena, whom I had known at Mt. Morris, sturdy in body and mind, with a passion for truth and reality, and scorn for shams and pretense, which have served him and the public well in his useful and honorable career. Practicing law in Chicago and Denver, he soon came to the front in that profession, and in forty years ' service as United States judge in Colorado won for himself the high esteem of the best people there, who know how much they owe to his judicial ability and integrity- Failing health compelled me to leave Beloit before the year expired, and this ended my college days.

in

LIGHT IN DAKKNESS

From Beloit I went to Baltimore, to my father's home, where I spent the summer and autumn of 1854.

Here I slowly regained my health and spent much of my time in reading and serious thinking. I was now in my twenty-first year and felt that I must soon decide what should be my work in life. Thoughts of the Christian ministry were in my mind, but I was unfit for this because I was not sure that I was myself a Christian.

At the end of my period of probation I had been received into full membership in the Church, although I confessed to the pastor and Church that received me that I was in doubt about my conversion. All I could say for myself was that I had a sincere desire to live a Christian life and was striving to do so, but had no clear evidence that I was born again. They, however, received me into their fellowship, being better satisfied with my evidences than I was myself.

Now, however, I felt the question must be settled and I must know for myself whether I was indeed a child of God. And so I read and prayed and fasted and sought the light which delayed to come. Hearing of a camp-meeting about twenty miles from the city, I went, hoping to get it there. On my way out my mind was in a state of gloom. I had been four years seeking salvation, apparently in vain. Others had found it at once, and went on their way rejoicing, while I was groping in twilight, beset by "sorrows and sins and doubts and fears." Perhaps Calvinism was true, and I was one of the reprobates doomed from eternity to live and die among the lost. The words "By grace ye are saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God" had been in my mind, and they seemed to be on the Calvinistic side of predestination.

Arriving on the ground just as services began, I saw on the platform an aged man with a benign countenance, who began by saying: "On my way from the city I had a sermon in mind which I intended to preach;

LIGHT IN DAEKNESS

but since I came here it is impressed on me to take another subject; and as it is likely I shall never preach here again, I ask you to pray that I may say something that will help those that hear me. My text is Ephesians 2:8, 'By grace ye are saved through faith, * " etc. This coincidence arrested my attention. The sermon that followed was not remarkable for depth or breadth or brilliancy. In cold print it would hardly be interesting; but there was power in it which made some who heard it remember it for many years. Here was a man I had never before seen or heard of. There was no one in the great congregation that knew me and no one that I knew. Yet this man seemed to know my heart and read my thoughts, and was talking straight to me as if I were the only one there.

"Ye have an unction from the Holy One and know all things,' ' is the secret of success of the man who has a message from God.

The usual Arminian exposition of the text was enforced and clinched by personal testimony, the substance of which was this: When the grace of God fills and floods a man's soul he feels irresistibly that it is not for him alone, nor for a few favorites of heaven only, but for all that feel their need of it.

Tis mercy all immense and free, For, O my God! it found out me."

The voice of the old man now rang like a trumpet through the forest aisles as thrice he exclaimed, "God is Love.'' That word came as an electric shock, which thrilled the assembly and was responded to by a mighty shout which seemed to reach the sky and drown the voice of the preacher. Waiting till silence was restored, he said, "I must now conclude," to which another chorus of voices replied, "Go on; go on!" And he went on in a flaming exhortation to stand by the faith of the fathers and preach a full, a free and present salvation for all men from all sin, here and now and forever, witnessed by the Word of God and by the Spirit of God, and attested by the experience of millions of men regenerated, justified, and sanctified by the boundless love of Him "who by the grace of God tasted death for every man. ' '

The gloom and chill of my inherited Calvinism vanished before the light and heat

LIGHT IN DABKNESS

of these burning words, and "the love of God was shed abroad in my heart by the Holy Ghost given nnto me," and I went home rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.

In the logic of the head Calvinism is strong ; but in the logic of the heart, the logic of love by which men live, it is weak; and after this it troubled me no more.

At the close of the service I learned that the preacher was the venerable Bishop Waugh, then residing in Baltimore; and, as he intimated, it was his last sermon in that place. He died a year or two later.

In these days when we are discussing the question how to get people to come to our fine churches on Sunday, some light may be found in considering how Bishop Waugh got so great a crowd to hear him in the woods of Maryland on a week-day.

It was not by anything oratorical, sensational, or spectacular in him or his sermon. As bare of ornament as Peter's discourse at Pentecost, it had some of the same power. It was not hearsay, but the utterance of one who could say, "We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen." God was in it and in him who preached it, and this is the only preaching that has permanent power to attract men. For the supreme need of man is God; and the preaching that brings God to men and men to God will draw men

" Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the judgment book unfold."

IV Life Moee Abundant

The new life that now quickened my soul hastened my physical restoration, and I was soon quite well and enjoying life more than ever. "I am come,,, says Jesus, "that they might have life and have it more abundantly.'' Before this life entered me, though not yet twenty-one, I felt old and world-weary. The inward gloom covered the world without. What we are determines what the world is to us. To be without God is to be without hope.

When clouds of unbelief hide the sun of the soul, other lights lose their luster.

"The midsummer sun shines but dim, The fields strive in vain to look gay."

But now "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ ' ' shining in me illumined the world around me and revealed new beauty everywhere, and I

said :

'"Tis love, 'tis love, Thou diedst for me, I hear Thee whisper in my heart, The morning breaks, the shadows flee, Pure, universal love Thou art."

This experience makes the Bible a new book and the world a new world, and shows us how to find "sermons in stones and good in everything." About this time, or a little later, I heard a sermon of remarkable beauty and power. Thomas H. Stockton was then the foremost preacher in Baltimore. Methodist Protestant in name, he was, in the large sense, a Christian and every man's brother. He was a chronic invalid and lived on the border-land of eternity- At this time his health had been worse than usual, and for months he had not been able to preach. Frail and pale, with lustrous eyes and saintly mien and manner, he seemed to be all soul, with only enough flesh and blood to tether him here for a time. As he began to speak he leaned on the pulpit for support; but as he proceeded, all signs of weakness vanished, and with rare grace of action and utterance he was seen and heard by all in that crowded assembly-

LIFE MORE ABUNDANT

His voice, at times soft and low, then loud and resonant, but always musical, was fitted to his thought and had some indefinable quality which held the ear and the heart of the congregation through a long sermon which seemed short enough and made us wish for more.

His text was Psalm 138 : 2, ' ' Thou hast magnified Thy Word above all Thy name."

The Bible God's Geeatest Revelation".

Manifested as He is in nature, providence, human history, and the soul of man, the supreme revelation is in the Holy Book. Other revelations by angels, prophets, apostles, saints, and sages have been for special times and occasions, but the Bible is for all times and all occasions. "Forever, 0 Lord, Thy Word is settled in heaven." "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My Word shall not pass away." The angels have vanished, the prophets are dead, the saints are in glory, miracles have ceased, all other oracles are dumb, but "the Word of God liveth and abideth forever." In youth, in manhood, in old age, in strength and weakness, in joy and sorrow, in life and death it stays with us, light in darkness, strength in weakness, joy in sorrow, life in death. All this was elaborated and illustrated from the Book itself.

Patriarchs, prophets, apostles, martyrs, and confessors, seers and saints of all the ages passed before us in solemn and sublime procession. They no longer seemed dim historic figures fading away in the misty past, but living men, "brothers and companions in tribulation and in the Kingdom and patience of Jesus Christ." The spell of immortality and eternity was on us and lifted us out of the limitations of time and space.

The past was present, the distant near, the dead alive, and the communion of saints, the commonwealth of God, in which all holy souls in all ages and all worlds are one in Him who is the life of all, was felt and seen as a sublime and supreme reality.

The sermon as a whole was extraordinary in form, expression, and impression. As in some great oratorio to the music of a great chorus and orchestra, the divine drama of redemption was unfolded with a beauty and pathos, passion and power befitting the mighty theme. The preacher was poet as well as orator ; the sermon was a prose poem,

LIFE MOEE ABUNDANT

much of it like blank verse, not to be imitated -. — it could not be — nor reproduced by any one but its author. Some passages were overwhelming in their effect. Isaiah's vision, when called to the prophetic office, was re-enacted so we could almost see "the Lord of Hosts high and lifted up" and hear the seraphim cry, "Holy, holy, holy!" It was one of those rare occasions in which we realize that the tabernacle of God is with men, and sanctified genius baptized with the Holy Spirit is made a mouth for God.

Such preaching renews the experience of apostolic times, when the gospel was "preached with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven" and those that heard it "tasted the good Word of God and the power of the world to come and were raised up and made to sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus."

Like all good men, Thomas H. Stockton was a lover of men as well as of God. At his funeral, which was attended by men of all creeds, classes, and colors, a Jew and a Negro locked arms and walked together in the procession to testify their reverence and affection for the memory of one whose love was large enough to embrace them all and who lived and died in the Spirit of Him who "came not to be ministered unto, but to minister and to give His life a ransom for many. ' '

V

WESTWARD, HO!

Late in the fall I returned to Illinois and spent the winter in Hanover teaching school. Here I had a larger school and more advanced scholars ; but the town boys and girls were in general well behaved, their parents friendly, the school board just and considerate, and the winter passed swiftly and pleasantly. During the years of teaching I was a student myself and probably learned as much as any of my scholars.

When navigation opened on the Mississippi I took the first boat up the river and landed in Minnesota, April 13, 1855. The ice was not yet out of Lake Pepin, so we left the boat at Read's Landing. There was another boat at Red Wing to take passengers to St. Paul, and there were wagons to carry the women to the head of the lake ; but with seven hundred passengers, mostly men, there

3 33 were not wagons enough to carry them, and they had to walk.

Rather than do this, another young man and I decided to start overland for Faribault, where he had some land and claimed to have knowledge of the country and the road there; we also horded to be overtaken by some vehicle in which we could ride. But in this we were disappointed. We tramped all day across the prairie without anything to eat.

Neither of us had ever done a day's walking, or half a day's, and long before night we were used up, but stern necessity compelled us to trudge on. We saw no house or sign of human habitation all day. My companion was from New York City and started out with the brisk gait of a city man hastening to business in the morning. By the middle of the afternoon he gave out, and I had to carry his baggage as well as my own, while he limped along with a stick in each hand to help him. As evening drew on, the situation became serious.

The nights were cold, snow still on the north side of the prairie slopes. Faint with hunger and fatigue, without covering, with-

WESTWARD, HO

out even a match to make a fire, if we found fuel, it would have been almost certain death for both of us to stay outdoors all night. But as it grew dark we came down from the high prairie into a wooded valley, through which ran a creek, and across the creek a log-house just put up, without roof except some boards at one end, under which the owner and his family slept. But no house I ever saw gave me more pleasure than the sight of this unfinished cabin. No pilgrims in the desert ever hailed an oasis with more delight. After a supper of saleratus biscuit and bacon, which tasted better than any menu of Delmonico, we made our bed without undressing, with some straw beneath us and a quilt apiece above us, and tried to sleep ; but my aching bones kept me awake and I spent my first night in Minnesota star-gazing and admiring the bright stars and blue sky unstained and undimmed by the smoke and exhalations that come with civilization. We traveled thirty miles the first day because we must; but the second day twelve miles was our limit, and we were glad to find a house and shelter before dark. The next day being Sunday, we rested here, and I spent much of the day in the woods reading Martin Tupper's " Proverbial Philosophy. ' '

The town of Mazeppa stands where we spent our first night, and Oronoco where we spent the second. We found houses now every night. Pioneers are always hospitable, and they gave us the best they had. About noon of the fifth day we reached Faribault, which had one good house, the home of Colonel Faribault, and twenty or thirty shanties and cabins scattered about. My calf-skin boots were worn out with the long tramp over the prairies, and I was glad to find a place where I could buy a pair of stout cowhide brogans, which were better suited to the roads and country as they then were.