Brother Van

by Stella Wyatt Brummitt

The first night came and a large crowd, which was both serious and curious, gathered at the place of meeting, but no preacher arrived. The young oil-pumper who had organized the Sunday-school, and had talked with thoughtless workmen, was sought for and urged to preach. Modestly he assumed the role of evangelist to the waiting people, and threepersons were led to know the saving power of God on that night.

For ten days the meetings continued; many people having their interest in religion rekindled, and many others made to feel the obligation of right living for the first time. From these inspiring gatherings William Van Orsdel went to Walnut Bend, an old settlement where, with the exception of funeral sermons, no religious services had been held for six years. Here a great revival occurred which lasted three weeks, and forty citizens set to work to make their community life mean more for faith and goodness than ever before.

Then followed meetings for three weeks at Oleopolis, where twenty-five people renewed their faith and endeavors. Meetings were held at Pit Hole, and continued for as long a period, and with the same encouraging result. The three places where successful meetings had been held were put into a circuit. One hundred and thirty-five members were received, and the Presiding Elder asked William to take the charge at a good salary for those days, and it included the privilege of boarding around.

The school-teachers and preachers in former times accepted “boarding around” as one of the compensations of their calling. They recognized its social value, even though dreading some of its privations. It meant that the homes of the community were opened in succession to the itinerant, who usually spent a week in the shelter of each home, sharing its luxuries and difficulties as a member of the family. He was then passed on to the next nearest neighbor until the round of homes had been made, when the process was started all over again.

But the boy evangelist turned his back on the joys of boarding around, for again came tidings from the West. The need of reinforcements for the missionaries in the Oregon territory was related to him, and tales of the settlers’ needs and of their privations. Stories reached him, too, of the brave freighters serving the people of the wilderness; so again the call of the West made the days of the boy preacher restless. That map of the Louisiana Purchase became very real in those days of decision.

Many years earlier Wilbur Fisk, who had been stirred by a strange story of the Indians, had made an appeal in the columns of The Christian Advocate. The incident which had come to the knowledge of Wilbur Fisk would stir the heart of any eager young Christian. In these days when all churches are giving to home missions as never before the story must be retold, for it brought the beginning of Christian work in the section where the quest was made.

Four Indians garbed in their odd dress appeared on the streets of St. Louis in the year 1832. All through the summer and fall they had traveled, for they had come two thousand miles in search of the “White Man’s Book of Heaven,” and to ask that teachers would be sent to Oregon. General Clark, the distinguished explorer, was then superintendent of Indian affairs. He had charge of all Indians in the far West, with headquarters at St. Louis. The Indians were received hospitably by General Clark and cared for through the winter. He was a Roman Catholic and they attended the church services regularly. Duringtheir visit to St. Louis two of the Indians died, and the other two decided to return to their people. A farewell banquet was given to these well-entertained guests and at which one of them made the following speech:

“I came to you over the trail of many moons from the setting sun. You were the friends of my fathers, who have all gone the long way. I came with an eye partly open for my people who sit in darkness. I go back with both eyes closed. How can I go back blind to my blind people! I made my way to you with strong arms through many enemies and strange lands that I might carry much back to them. I go back with both arms broken and empty. Two fathers came with us. They were the braves of many winters and wars. We leave them asleep here by your great water and wigwams. They were tried in many moons and their moccasins wore out.

“My people sent me to get the white man’s Book of Heaven. You took me to where they worship the Great Spirit with candles, but the book was not there. You showed me the images of the Great Spirit and the pictures ofthe good land beyond, but the book was not among them to tell us the way. I am going back the long trail to my people in the dark land. You make my feet heavy with gifts and my moccasins will grow old with carrying them and yet the book is not among them. When I tell my poor blind people, after the more snow, in the Big Council that I did not bring the book, no word will be spoken by our old men or by our young braves. One by one they will rise up and go out in silence. My people will die in darkness and they will go a long path to other hunting grounds. No white man will go with them, and no white man’s Book of Heaven will make the way plain. I have no more words.”

Among the early missionaries, who became inspired by a knowledge of the quest for the “White Man’s Book of Heaven,” were Francis McCormick, known as the “man with the fist and the ax,” and John Kobler, the first Methodist preacher north and west of the Ohio River. Another of these leaders was Thomas Hall Pearne, a young man of great culture. He practically received his commission fromBishop Janes in 1851. “Go to Oregon; live there; work there and die there for Jesus,” said the bishop. Young Pearne went west by way of Panama and landed in San Francisco. William Taylor was then leading the religious forces of the sunset city, and Pearne preached in the streets of San Francisco for Taylor; then he sailed to the mouth of the Columbia River and finally reached Portland.