Thirty Years in the Itinerancy

by W. G. Miller

The financial ability of the charge was moderate, and hence the erection of the Church required a great effort. Our meetings were held in the school house until the Church edifice was enclosed, plastered, and furnished with temporary seats.

The fall of 1846 was a season of unusual sickness, fevers in various forms being the principal ailment. Along the valley of the Rock River, the affliction became so flagrant that scarcely a family escaped. And in some families, so universal were its ravages, that not one member was left in condition to care for the balance. In this state of things hundreds suffered, and not a few even died for want of kindly attention.

Repeatedly, when riding through the country to visit the sick and bury the dead, I found flags of distress hung out over the dwellings of sick families, where not one was able to bring a pail of water, or provide a morsel of food. In such cases I installed myself master of ceremonies, kindled fires, brought water, administered medicines, and then went forward to render the same class of services to others.

In attending funerals in the surrounding neighborhoods, I sometimes found there were not well people enough to bury their dead. After performing the sacred functions of my office as a minister, I was obliged to aid, with my own hands, to let the coffin down to its final resting place.

Though still frail from my illness during the previous year, I stood this strain for two months, when I was prostrated by an attack of bilious fever. During the first week of my illness a physician made two visits to my boarding place, and this was more than he could give to the greater portion of his patients. The family with whom I boarded were all sick, and I was dependent for care mostly upon such snatches of service as others could spare from pressing demands at home. At the end of a week, believing my chances of recovery, under such circumstances, precarious, I ordered my horse and buggy, and started for Waupun, thirty miles distant. My friends remonstrated, and thought me insane; but, fortunately, they were too ill to prevent the movement. The attempt was perilous, indeed, but by the aid of stimulants, which I had provided with special care, and a will-power that nerved itself for the occasion, I made the passage safely. At the end of four hours I was comfortably housed at the residence of Dr. Bowman, who bestowed upon me skillful medical treatment, while his family gave me careful and faithful nursing.

At the end of four weeks I was able to return to my post of duty. The sickness had now mostly passed, and I was able to enter more fully upon the regular labors of the charge. I now adopted a plan of systematic labor, giving the forenoons to my study and the afternoons to pastoral visiting. And I soon found that earnest and devoted labor brought its reward. A revival speedily followed, which added a goodly number of probationers.

But the holidays were approaching, and it was expected that I would spend a portion of them at Waupun, where, it was hinted, an event would transpire in which I might have a personal interest. Anticipating the time several days, I went as far as Clason's Prairie, and turned aside to assist Brother Holmes, the Pastor of the charge, for a few evenings in a protracted meeting. Returning, I proceeded on my way to Burnett. By arrangement, I met Brother Sampson here, and spent the Sabbath with him, it being his Quarterly Meeting on the Waupun charge.

The preachers on the circuit were Revs. A.P. Allen and Henry Requa, the latter being employed by the Elder as an assistant. Brother Allen was a man of mature years, though he had been in the work only a short time. He was a man of decided talent, but so full of queer ways and witty sayings that these seemed to give him his status in the general estimation of the people. He filled several leading charges in the Conference, and served a full term as Presiding Elder on the Racine District. But wherever he might be, the same tendency to create laughter was ever present. If an exception ever came to my knowledge, it must have been the one that is said to have occurred on a former charge at one of his outlying appointments. It is related that at this point the people had not shown much regard for the visits of the preacher or the sanctity of the Sabbath, spending the day either in rioting or in the pursuit of their secular business. Becoming disgusted with this state of things, Brother Allen announced at the close of his services, that on the occasion of his next visit, he would preach his farewell sermon. The day came, and the people, shocked at the idea of being left without meetings, came out in large numbers, leaving for once their business and sports. The services were opened in due form. On arising to announce the text, the Preacher told the people that he had come prepared to preach his farewell sermon, and he was glad that so many had come out to hear it. He presumed they knew the reason of his purpose to leave them, and hence he need not consume time over that matter, but would proceed at once to announce as his text, the following passage of Holy Writ: 'Oh, full of all subtlety and mischief, thou child of the devil, how long wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord.' Having repeated the text with emphasis, he looked over the congregation very gravely, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, you will perceive that I have chosen a pretty hard text. Now it is not polite for people to go out of meeting during the preaching, and if any of you think that this text is too severe for you, you had better go out before we begin the sermon." As might have been expected, none were disposed to go. "Well, then," said the Preacher, "if you are not disposed to go, I will begin. I intend to show, in the first place, that you are all full of subtlety and mischief. In the second place, I intend to show that you are all the children of the devil, and in the third place, I intend to put to you the straight question, whether you intend to cease from thus perverting the right ways of the Lord." The preacher, at this point, again, paused and looked over the congregation. "Now you will say," he added, "this is going to be a hard sermon." "So it is, but if any of you think you can't sit to hear the truth told you, or in other words, to have your portraits taken, you had better leave now, for it is not polite to go out during the sermon." It was now too late to go, if any one felt inclined. So the sermon proceeded, and commanded respectful attention to its close. Before leaving, the Preacher was invited to continue the appointment, and consented to do so.

But to return to the Quarterly Meeting. The people came in great numbers, and the services throughout were deeply impressive. On Saturday evening, several souls were converted, and on the Sabbath others were added to the number. But the crowning meeting was held on Sabbath evening. Before the hour of service had arrived, the school house was full, the seats even having been removed to furnish standing room. And yet crowds of people were coming from all directions. I finally proposed to the Elder, that if he would put a man in my place in the school house, I would go over to the nearest neighbor's house and hold another service. The private house was soon filled, and in each congregation there were several conversions.

On Monday, January 4th, 1847, Brother Sampson accompanied me to Dr. Bowman's at Waupun, where he officiated in introducing the Doctor's eldest daughter to the Itinerancy.