Thirty Years in the Itinerancy

by W. G. Miller

It had been arranged at the Conference that Green Lake and Winnebago Lake Missions should hold their Quarterly Meetings together. The first was now to be held at Oshkosh. In going, I took the trail leading from Ceresco to Oshkosh, and traveled the whole distance without finding a house. But at the intersection of the Fond du Lac and Ceresco trails I met Brother Sampson, the Presiding Elder.

On our arrival at Oshkosh we found it had been arranged to hold the services on Saturday in a private house on the south side of the river. The Elder preached, and at the close of the service, the Quarterly Conference was convened under a tree, thereby giving the house to the needed preparations for dinner.

Rev. G.N. Hanson was the Pastor at Oshkosh. He was a single man, several years my senior, of a kind and gentle spirit, given to books and a fair Preacher. I had known him in the State of New York, where we were both Exhorters, and, also, both engaged in teaching. Brother Hanson entered the Rock River Conference in 1844, and his first charge was Manitowoc. He had been stationed on the Winnebago Lake Mission at the recent Conference and was doing a good work. After leaving this charge he rendered effective service in other fields until 1852, when, having almost lost the use of his voice, he took a superannuated relation. But as soon thereafter as his health would permit, he entered the service of the Bible Cause and for three years proved an efficient Agent. In this work his field of labor lay mostly in the new and sparsely settled regions of the Chippewa Valley, and along the frontiers of Minnesota. But here he evinced the same perseverance and self-denial which had characterized his whole life. Leaving his most estimable companion, he took the Word of God, and though he could no longer give it a living voice, he bore it joyfully to the families of the land, through the forest and marshes of those new counties, often throwing his shadow upon the coming footsteps of the Itinerant himself. But at last he was compelled to yield to the hand of disease which had long rested upon him. He passed over the river in holy triumph in 1857.

On Sabbath the meeting was held in a frame building, the first in the place, that had been erected for a store. It had been roofed and enclosed, but there were no doors or windows. Rude seats had been arranged and the accommodations were ample. The Elder preached in the morning and the writer, as the visiting Pastor, in the afternoon. The meeting was well attended and greatly enjoyed by all. The people, of course, were mostly strangers to each other, and, coming from different parts of the world, were accustomed to various modes of worship. But they seemed to forget their differences, and recognize Christ only as their common Savior.

At this time Oshkosh was but little more than a mere trading post. The few families there were mostly on farms or claims in the vicinity of the river or lake. During my stay I was entertained by Brother William W. Wright, whose house, for many years thereafter, was a home for the Itinerant ministers.

The Quarterly Meeting passed off very pleasantly, and at its close I returned to my work of exploration on the Green Lake Mission.

Flushed with the achievements of the previous few weeks, and still sighing for conquests, I now resolved to make a sally in the direction of Lake Apuckaway, lying to the northwest of Lake Maria. I found, on the southern shore, a few families, and made arrangements for an appointment in connection with my next round. I then started to return, but had not gone far, when I found I had lost my reckoning. I looked for my compass as eagerly as Christian for his roll, but I could not find it. This was a double misfortune, to lose both the way and the guide at the same time. I resorted to the device of the backwoodsman, and tried to determine my course by the moss on the trees, but I found this to be a great perplexity and abandoned it. I traveled in divers directions and devious ways until nearly overcome with fatigue and hunger, when I suddenly came upon a newly erected log cabin. The logs had been rolled up to form the body, a roof of "shakes" had been hastily put on, there was no chinking between the logs, there were no windows, and the only door was a blanket. The floor was made of earth, and the fireplace was merely a pile of stones in one corner, from which the smoke ascended through an opening in the roof, at one corner of the building.

I knocked for admittance, and was kindly received. The good man and his wife had but recently come into the country. He had succeeded in erecting his cabin and putting it in its present condition, but had been taken ill with the ague and compelled to suspend operations. He had now been so long confined at home that provisions had become scarce. It was meal time. A few potatoes were taken from the embers and placed on a chest, as a substitute for a table. I was invited to join them in their repast, using a trunk as a seat. Grace was said, under a special sense of the Divine favor. A little salt was added, and the meal was one of the most relishable I had ever eaten. Several years after, I heard the good brother relate the circumstance in a Love Feast, when he took occasion to say the visit was the most refreshing he had ever experienced. It was certainly such to me. The village of Kingston has since sprang up in the vicinity, and has become the head of a circuit.

Returning again to Waupun, I now decided to look over the territory in the more immediate vicinity. Going to the south of the village five miles, I found Mill Creek, where a small settlement had been made. The most central house of the neighborhood was the residence of Brother David Moul, who kindly offered it for a temporary chapel. An appointment was established, and on the 16th day of November a class was formed. Brother Moul was appointed Leader. The class at the first, consisted of the Leader and wife, David Boynton and wife, and two others, but in the revival that soon followed, the number was increased to twenty-two.

Brother Moul was an earnest worker in the Master's vineyard, generous in his contributions to support the Gospel, and eminently faithful to every trust committed to his keeping. At the end of twenty years, I made a visit to Mill Creek. I found Brother Moul had erected a fine house and was living in manifest comfort; but he retained a vivid recollection of the early days and their sacrifices. Two relics remained, both in a fair state of preservation, which he took great pleasure in showing to me. The first was the old class book that I had given him at the time of the organization of the class. It was a single sheet of foolscap paper, folded together in book form, and stitched. The names upon it were mostly in my own handwriting, and the Leader had carefully made his weekly entries of present and absent, until the pages were filled. The other object of interest was the old house, in which the first meetings were held. Here we had seen remarkable displays of Divine power. And as I now looked upon the old structure, the early scenes seemed to return. I could again see the wide room, filled with rude seats, Brother Moul at the door as usher, the crowds of people that thronged the place, the groups of seekers at the mourners' bench, and the lines of happy faces that were aglow with hallowed expressions of delight. I could again hear the songs of praise as they rang out in the olden time, full and sweet, filling the place with rarest melody. Nay, as I held communion with the past, I seemed to feel the hallowed influences, that pervaded the early worshippers, breathing through all my being, as of old, and even fancy myself young again, and standing before the multitude as an ambassador of the Master.