From the stage coach to the pulpit : being an auto-biographical sketch, with incidents and anecdotes, of Elder H.K. Stimson, the veteran pioneer of Western New York, now of Kansas

Front matter

Collection of Native North American Indian Books, Historical Books, Atlases, plus other important authors and family heirloom books.

As of 12-31-93

Carl C«,J ... V

CHAPTER I. Birth. — Boyhood, ----- 17

CHAPTER n.

Running away from Home. — Stage Driving and Stage Drivers, ------ 27

CHAPTER m.

Returning Home.— First Interview with my Father, 40

CHAPTER ly. ' Courtship and Marriage. — Early Married Life, 64

CHAPTER V.

A Turning Point. — ^Victory over Whisky. — ^A Shooting Match, Etc., - 66

CHAPTER VI.

A Search for a Church, - - - - 86

CHAPTER Vn.

The Church Found, .... 92

CHAPTER Vm.

A Year op Jubilee, ----- 98

6 PROM THE STAGE COACH TO THE PULPIT.

CHAPTER IX.

Shall I Preach? — First Pastorate, - - 106

CHAPTER X.

LEAvrNQ Alabama. — ^Parma, - - - - 13S

CHAPTER XI.

A Trial of Open Communion, - - - 162

CHAPTER Xn.

An Old Sore. — Second Widowhood, - - 168

CHAPTER Xm.

Evangelizing. — Pastorate at Warsaw, - 174

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

Adrian, ------ 208

CHAPTER XVI.

Penn Yan, - - - - -212

CHAPTER XVn.

Marion, ------ 227

CHAPTER XVm.

Racine, ------- 236

CHAPTER XIX.

Re-Settlement at Warsaw, - - - 240

CHAPTER XX.

La Grange.— The War, - - - - 242

CHAPTER XXI.

Ho for Kansas, ----- 279

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXn.

A Kansas Field, - - - .

CHAPTER XXm.

Closing the War in Missouri, -

CHAPTER XXrV.

"Ottawa University" and Leavenworth,

CHAPTER XXV.

The Baptist Tabernacle,

CHAPTER XXYI.

KiNDERHOOK. — WhEATLAND, - - -

CHAPTER XXVn.

Burlington, Kansas, - - .

CHAPTER XXVni.

Old Memories, - - - - -

CHAPTER XXIX.

Elder Weaver, - - , -

CHAPTER XXX.

Reflections. — Home Again, - - -

CHAPTER XXXI.

Miscellany, - - - - -

CHAPTER XXXn.

Sermons, ------

CHAPTER XXXHI.

A Night with the Rackensacks and Pukes,

Conclusion

Personal Sketch by the Editor,

THE AUTHOR'S PEEFACE.

In presenting this volume to the Christian Public and "the rest of mankind," I know that I am liable to severe criticism, to which I do not object if it is made in kindness. Such has always done me good.

I have had a maxim through life, I once invented in selfdefense, that a man that can't spell a word but one way, is a literary fool. For the practical illustration my manuscript affords that I am not a fool in this sense, if it appears on the printed page, you can blame the editor. Rev. T. W. Greene,

I make no claim to originality, except in memory. This I have endeavored to use to the best advantage in applying other men's thoughts and principles. I believe in the largest liberty to all men in advocating their views and sentiments, if not dogmatic and superstitious. I advocate a liberal education, a liberal contribution to all benevolent institutions, and large donations to ministers.

I have no great enemies, except the devil. All others are of small calibre and not worth a notice. I love all mankind, and good horses. For the rest of the world I care but little, as I am nearly through it.

I wish you to buy the book, pay for it and read it. Then you will have a consciousness of two things : first, you own a book and are independent. Second, you are helping an old man and woman to a little support in the evening of life.

May God bless you.

H. K. S.

THE EDITOE'S PKEFACE.

I BELIEVE in preaching and like to preach. I also believe

in writing and like to write, especially when helping to increase the acquaintance of the world with so genuine a man, and one so wide-awake for Christ, evenin the evening years of life, as Father Stimson.

I have enjoyed the work of preparing the manuscript of this book for the press. As Dr. Bushnell would say, it has been play for me. It was nearly done before I knew it. Only a few weeks of an exceedingly hot season have been spent by Father Stuison in preparing the pencil notes good and ample, and by myself in making them comply with the exactions of the printer, and a little more fully represent the Autiior ; and that, too, in the midst of uninterrupted pastoral work on the part of both.

My only wish is that the book may be read by many during his life here and after he has entered on the better life, and with the same relish with which the labor of preparing it has been accomplished. Then I shall be sure it will do more good than we both could have done in the same time in any other way.

T. W. G.

Junction City, Kansas.

INTEODUCTION.

It was in the winter of 1843, I first saw Rev. H. K. Stimson. It was in my native town in "Western New York, and at an age when my mind was very easily impressed by the presence of men of mark. The occasion was the meeting of an Ecclesiastical Council, which excited great interest in that community. Mr. Stimson was a delegate from a neighboring church. He was then a young man, full of point, soul and magnetism, which years have not lessened. Because of his brilliancy, piquancy and quaintness, all eyes admiringly centered upon him when he spoke. To my youthful mind, he was the chief attraction of the Council. I have ever remembered him as I saw and heard him there. He then told a certain story, with such inimitable skill and dramatic power — a story having a patness and application so hitting and ludicrous — that I can never forget it or its author. Who might this curious and strangely potent man be? I wondered. It came out that he was a converted stage-driver, of Irish descent, and the wittiest minister in the Genesee country.

From that day to this I have known H, K. Stimson, and from the time I went into the ministry he has known me, I think; and if he has not loved me, I have had the sweet retaliation of loving him. For more than thirty years in Western New York, he held a prominent place as a preacher and pastor. No man in that region stood higher as a faithful, able and useful minister of the Gospel than he. This is saying much, for he was associated with such men as.Elon Galusha, Elisha Tucker, Pharcellus Church, James Eeed, Ichabod Clark, "William Arthur, Charles Van Loon, Daniel Eldridge, the Elliots, Harrison Daniels and Walter Brooks. In the learning of the schools, Mr. Stimson; never professed to be a proficient, but the Gospel and men he knows by heart. Wit, tact, knowledge of human nature and ready ability to use current events, superadded to a great and good heart, and to a naturally strong and withy intellect, all consecrated to God, have made him a most popular, devoted and efficient minister of Christ for forty-five years.

His auto-biography is a book over which readers will both laugh and cry. No person who has ever known this remarkable man will fail to be interested in the work, and in it thousands of others, in all Christian denominations, will find entertainment and profit. In wit and drollery, this book is keener than the works of professional humorists, in its serious portions and theological utterances, it is as sound as Jonathan Edwards; and in its touching passages and pictures, it is as tender as anything which Pay son or McChene ever wrote.

As the subject of this taking volume is a welcome guest in all denominations and circles, because he is a Christian, a gentleman, a genial companion, a helpful minister and a man of the soundest common sense, so his auto-biography will be welcomed by all classes, professions and ages. The book is the man in portraiture, and this is its highest commendation. Mr. Stimson is now well on in life, but is

Introduction

as vivacious, as social, as generous and as companionable BS ever; and the book is just like him. When he leaves your house, wife, husband and all the children say, come again." A book picturing such a character and life as his, so full of telling incidents, of rich personal history, of hits, of genius, of talent, of eloquence, of pathos, of piety, of good sense, must be remarkable, a priori. Upon examination, the work proves itself the satisfactory fulfillment of the prophecy which such a character utters.

The Editor, Rev. Mr. Greene, his neighbor in Kansas, where Mr. Stimson has lived for the last few years, has done his work so well, as to richly deserve the thaiilcs of the thousands the land over who know and love the Converted Stage-Driver," and Avho pray that the evening of his life may be as sunny as its noon ; and that, as from the stage coach Christ transferred him to the pulpit, so from the pulpit, though not for many years. He may transfer him to Himself in glory, not only to be forever with his Lord, but with the great multitude brought to Jesus by his labors.

A. H. BURLINGHAM.

St. Louis, January, 1874.

FAEEWELL TO THE COACH.

Farewell to the Coach that has carried us long Through sunshine and storm with wheels rolling fast;

A kindly farewell in a brief, simple song, And a smile and a tear for its far away past.

A smile for the memories pleasant and pure, A tear for whatever unhallowed was there;

Let the first with all that is precious endure, And the last be forgotten in praise and in prayer.

How strong was your frame and capacious each seat, Old Coach, as you rolled on your track every day;

And how many good friends we then used to greet. As they climbed into you, and we sped on our way.

How v/aited and watched for then was our load!

How welcome the letters we bore up and downl How gaily our horses stepped out on the road,

Or dashed up the street full speed into town I

Now better enjoyment we thankfully find. For our l^st whip and bottle were cracked long ago;

Though to crack a good joke we still feel inclined, And we bear other news as we go to and fro.

Good tidings, great blessings we gladly proclaim, Christ's life and His death, the epistles of Paul;

To those who will weep o'er His sorrow and shame, And rejoice in the news that can ransom us all.

We still hope to carry full many a soul From evil to good, from sin to salvation;

For the chariot wheels of the Gospel must roll Until the grand story is told to each nation.

CHAPTER I.

BIRTH AND BOYHOOD.

WAS born — sol have been told — at Saratoga

Springs, October llth, 1804. My parents were of Irish extraction, having descended from an ancient stock in the North of Ireland. All I know of their religious opinions is that they were of Presbyterian proclivities, and, like most other adherents of the Scotch ^'Kirk," strongly prejudiced against all other denominations, especially Poman Catholics, and no less, the Baptists. This prejudice my father never overcame. My mother finally became more tolerant, but it was not until the Baptists had become quite numerous in Western New York that any of my family were immersed.

My father, who was a draper and tailor at Saratoga Springs, moved from there to what was then called the "Genesee Country," in the winter of 1811-12. Our family at this time consisted of my parents and their three children, I being seven years of age and the oldest of my mother's children. At this time nearly all west of Canandaigua was one vast wilderness, and

18 FKOM THE STAGE COACH TK) THE PULriT.

I well remember the contrast between our pleasant home at the Springs and the rude log hut in the dense forest in the "town" of Mendon. With the exception of an occasional visit to my uncle John Stimson, who lived four miles distant, I was constantly in the house with, my mother, or with my father in the woods where he was "clearing." To one thus situated, any event which would enable him to see a company of men gathered together, was indeed hailed with joy. Such an event was the first town meeting of the "town" of Mendon, held at Deacon Eli Ewer's in the spring of 1812. During the previous winter the ' ' town " of Bloomfield had been divided into four "towns," one of which was Mendon. It was therefore necessary to have a * ' town meeting " there, which was called at the house of Eli Ewer, a deacon of the Presbyterian Church. I remember feeling quite elated when I started with my father to attend the meeting. I anticipated a good time, and it seemed as though all there determined that my anticipations should be fulfilled. The deacon had the day previous obtained a license to keep a public house, and had laid in a good supply of rye whisky. He also served up to his guests a dinner consisting of baked pork and beans : a dish that may have been

BIRTH AND BOYHOOD.

heard of still further east. Although a plain repast, and needing hut little tahle furniture, his supply was found totally inadequate to the demand. His plates were of hrown earthen-ware and wooden trenchers. For forks there were short sticks tipped with prongs of wire, the other part of the cutlery being supplied with pieces of sc}^he points and jack-knives. During the dinner hour everything was in confusion and noise, but the utmost good feeling prevailed. After dinner, games, business and drinking occupied the time till sundown, when the majority started for home, many very much intoxicated; for men got drunk even in the good old times. A few of them were beastly drunk. The beasts will please excuse me. There is one consolation, however, the whisky they drank was pure. But pure as it was, it operated badly on the deacon's windows, doors and premises generally. It had a very dilapidating effect upon them. The next day Deacon Ewer gave up his license and quit the rather expensive business of selling whisky.

In the spring of 1814, my father moved from his place in the woods to a public house on the road leading from Irondequoit Bay to Lima, where he kept tavern for the next four years. This was then

20 FliOM THE STAGE COACH TO THE PULPIT.

the great Western thoroughfare, Buffalo being the far West." While residing here there was no school which I could attend, and I was compelled to spend my time around the bar-room, where I was educated to all the vice and folly attendant upon such a place, but making no advancement in intellect and certainly none in moral education.

In the fall of 1818,1 left home and worked at another tavern for my board, while I attended school for the first time since I was a child. In the spring of this year I had my first religious impressions, and well do I remember the occasion. A young companion of mine. Napoleon B. Stickney, and myself, attended a prayer meeting, conducted by the Eev. John Taylor, of the Congregational Church, and Deacon Eli Lyon, of the Baptist Church. Stickney and myself, both vain and wicked youths, had gone there out of mere curiosity. During the evening. Deacon L3^on gave a short but very impressive history of his experience and conversion, which, for the time, made a deep impression on my mind. Stickney was also much affected, and, on our way home, he said to me, Hiram, I am a gi-eat sinner, and I feel as though it was my duty to quit the evil practices of Sabbath breaking, profane

BIRTH AND BOYHOOD.

swearing and card playing." I at once told him of my own convictions, of my gnilt as a sinner, and invited " Boney," as we called him, to stay with me at the tavern that night. He accepted my invitation, and we started for my room. The family had all retired, and- the house Avas still when we reached it. We sat down in the bar-room where we had so often joked and made merry, but this time to talk over our deplorable condition as sinning against our God and Saviour. We had talked but a short time when *' Boney" said, "Hiram, you go and get the Bible and we will read it." I stole away into the room where I knew the Bible was kept, a useless book to all the family. I brought it and gave it to " Boney." He opened at the lifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, and commenced reading. When he closed the book he looked at me with a strange stare and said, " Hiram, pray." And there we both knelt on the floor of the dirty bar-room, filled with the fumes of whisky and the odor of burnt tobacco, and prayed in broken sentences and homely expressions, but with earnestness. What I said I know not. But after rising we mutually promised to reform and lead a better life. But how vain are most of our promises of reformation. The very next Sabbath, Stickney and

I went fishing all day. Thus may be seen how little dependence is to be placed upon resolutions of a better life when God is not really loved, and when our dependence upon Him is not realized and acknowledged with that acknowledgment that comes from renewed hearts.

From this time till I was eighteen I worked at the tavern, going to school three months each winter, pursuing only such branches as were then taught, imperfectly taught, and as imperfectly received and applied. So that when at this age the importance of an education first impressed itself upon my mind and I received my advancement, I found I could only read and write, knowing nothing or nearly nothing of arithmetic and geography. As I thought over these things, and as the value of an education arose before my mental vision, I w^as compelled to look about with a determination to lay hold of any possible chance that would allow me to pursue a course of study. But all was dark, dreary and discouraging. My parents were now too poor to help me. There were no good schools in that part of the country that I could attend, even by " choring" for my board. And with no means nor any way of obtaining them to pay my expenses away from home,

BIRTII AND BOYHOOD.

and no kind friend to extend a benevolent hand or speak an enconraging word by way of relief, I settled down into the belief that there is such a thing as toiling for knowledge under difficulties, and tliat there are some lighter amusements than workingone's way through school. With these facts dogging my heels, I saAv that my hopes of obtaining an edu- ' cation at that time were vain. I soon dismissed the idea of enjoying the advantages of attending school A\'here I was, and as to going East to attend one, that could only be done by the sons of the wealthy. This, in connection with my father's somewhat intemperate habits, led me to the conclusion that I must make the best of my poor condition in life, and so I set myself to the work of whiling away my youth in ignorance and vice.

Some time previous to this my father had given up the tavern and opened a small whisky grocery, obtaining his stock of one S , who kept a hotel and

store in the village of East Mendon. After continuing this grocery a little time, my father found himself indebted to S , to the amount of eighty dollars, with no way to pay it. To settle the matter,

S proposed that I should come and work it out

at his hotel. A formal contract was at once drawn up, but I was to be kept in ignorance of the fact that I was working to pay for a dead horse," or, what was in fact much worse, for whisky long since swallowed. S came to me and said, *'Hi, Iwant

you to work for me a year tending bar, and now and then driving those black horses of mine, which I am fitting for market. How much do you want a month ?" The idea of being a kind of superintendent of a small *

tavern and of driving as fine a team as S 's blacks

was the height of all greatness to my mind, and we struck a bargain at eight dollars a month. Mr.

S soon after started for New York City, leaving

me to take charge of the tavern, and a young man by the name of Brace as clerk in his store.

My wardrobe at the time was somewhat scanty, and as spring came on I had need of new and more' respectable clothing ; that is, my position as mixer of whisky sling, gin cocktails and brandy smashes, and retailer of ' ' penny grab " cigars required that I should appear in dignified attire. I went into the store and told Brace that I wanted cloth for a new suit of clothes, a new hat, boots, etc. What was my surprise and chagrin when he told me I Avas at work to pay the old debt of my father, and he was instructed not to let me have anything out of the store

BIRTH AND BOYHOOD.

during Mr. S 's absence. At this I was indignant and not a little enraged, and I at once said, <* Well, then I shall leave ; you may take charge of the hotel and the horses, for I am not the boy to work for any old whisky debts, and go ragged while doing so, into the bargain." I was about to leave the store in a rage when Brace, who by the way was a good friend of mine, and in deep sympathy with me, said, *'Well, Hiram, I will let you have what you want on my account. I will take the responsibility

until Mr. S returns from New York, and then

you and he can settle the matter." I at once replied, "No, I will not take a thing only on my own account and for my own labor. If I cannot have what I want on those conditions I will stay no longer, and as to working out that old whisky debt, it is something I will never do." At this decided declaration Brace replied, " Yery well. Hi, it is too bad, and I will let you have what you want and you must settle it with

Mr. S when he returns from New York City."

Upon this condition cloth for a summer suit, cloth for two shirts, a pair of shoes and a hat were secured. The cloth for my suit I carried home that my father might cut them out, and my mother and sister make them. That night after going to bed my

26 FROM THE STAGE COACH TO THE PtJLPIT.

reflections were something like the following : * ' Now,

when S gets home, we shall have a conflict

about this matter. He and my father will lay their heads together, and compel ' me to work oiit this eighty dollar debt at eight dollars a month — ten long months. This is not right and just, I have no heart to stay and no determination to do it."

RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME.

Chapter II

RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME. STAGE DRIVING AND

STAGE DRIVERS.

HOUGHTS like these soon induced me to form plans for leaving my home, parents, brothers and sisters, to seek my own livelihood among strangers. The next morning I asked my mother to make my shirts as soon as possible as I was in very great need of them. She and my sister were not long in finishing them ; and as soon as they were done I tied them in a bundle with the rest of my new made clothes and started apparently for the tavern, but really I knew not where. J passed out of the little village unobserved by any one. Arriving at the road leading to Bushnell's Basin on the Erie canal, I turned my steps thitherward.

I did not take the main road, fearing that I might meet some one who would detect and report me. As I wended my lonely way among the by-roads I had ample time for reflection, and my mind was filled with thoughts like these: Now, I am taking an important step, one that will tell for good or evil on my whole after-life. I shall have no kind mother to look after me, no sweet sister to caress and respect me, no familiar friend to advise and counsel me. I am all alone, without friends or home, and now, after all, would I not gain by returning to Mendon, where I will be near my mother and sisters, and where I will see and be with those who are near and dear to me, even if I have to work almost a year to cancel that old whisky bill." Then, again, I thought: "If I do return, I must be a poor, despised lackey in a miserable rum hole ; I must be an associate and companion of those belonging to the lowest grades of society ; I must work and thus spend a whole year of mj life for nothing that will do me any good ; for something that has done no good in times past or present, and will benefit no one in time to come."

With thoughts like these I arrived at the Basin, and took my stand upon the bridge to await the arrival of the next boat. I cared not much from which way it came, whether east or west, it mattered not to me. All I cared for was to go — somewhere, anywhere, but back to Mendon. I longed to be moving. I wanted to escape from the terrible dread

RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME.

of working out old rum bills. I hated the very name of liquor, and despised all connected with it. I was desperate, and growing more and more so when a boat hove in sight, and I alighted upon its deck, taking passage for the East at one and a half cents a mile, board included. After a few miles' ride the captain approached me and said, "Young man, do you wish to get employment?" I said, " Yes, sir ;" and we soon closed a bargain, he agreeing to pay me ten dollars a month as a hand upon the boat. As we neared Syracuse, our steward was taken ill, and had to leave the boat at that place. As we had on board a number of passengers to be cared for, a new steward must be found. After some talking and calculating, I was established in that office, or, as the phrase was, I was made " chief cook and bottle-washer." In this position I gave general satisfaction, so much so that Capt. Warren and his passengers began to praise me as a first-rate bar-tender and a number one cook.

After arriving at Albany and unloading our craft and cleaning up our cabins, I strolled up into the business part of town, and calling at a hotel, met James Herrington, an old stage driver with whom I had been acquainted at Mendon. We were both

30 FROM THE STAGE COAOH TO THE PULPIT.

taken by surprise ; and, in his rough and profane way — you don't want the profane part, and so I will leave it out — he said : " How come you here ? " And then, introducing me to his companion, added : <*Here is Hi Stimson, one of the smai-tcst boys I ever knew. He can cut more tricks and make more fun than any boy I ever saw. He can sing the best songs, dance the best hornpipes, make the best flip, sling or punch any of his age : and that aint all, ho is a tip-top reinsman, and can drive four or six horses to a nit's eye. Come, let's walk up and take a little ; the least drop in the world won't hurt you, if you wash it down with rum." After we had drunk, James took me one side and said : " Hi, if you wish me to assist you iii any way, I will do it. I think I can get you into a good berth here as a driver, for I know you are a first rate reinsman." I told him all my troubles ; how I came away from Mendon, and what induced me to leave home. This so afiected him that he could not restrain his tears, and, taking me by the hand, he said: "Well, Hiram, I will stand by you as long as I have a clean shirt and a shilling left." I informed him that I had all my wages due in the hands of Capt. Warren, and that I would settle with him and draw what was

RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME.

coming to mc, if there was a prospect of employment at higher wages. He took me to the stage ojffice, where he introduced me to the proprietors of the line, with whom I soon closed a bargain, they agreeing to pay me sixteen dollars a month, Avith a bonns of twenty-five dollars, provided I remained a year. I then returned to the boat, settled with the captain, and drew my balance. The captain was sorry to have me leave, but expressed himself pleased that I had found a better paying position.