Thirty Years in the Itinerancy

by W. G. Miller

At Waukesha, a respectable Church edifice had been erected in 1841 and 1842. At a later period a small Parsonage had been built, and on our arrival it was in readiness to receive us. The public services of the Sabbath were held at half-past ten in the morning and at one in the afternoon. The latter had been so arranged to accommodate families in the country, who desired a second service before returning home. The plan, however, did not fully satisfy the people in the village, as it failed to provide for an evening service. It was suggested that in a village, a certain class of people could be induced to attend an evening service that would not go to any other. To test the matter, I opened an evening service. The arrangement proved satisfactory, and was continued, though it involved the necessity of having three services a day.

The good seed of the kingdom, scattered among the crowds who gathered at the evening service, in due time began to bear fruit, and an extensive revival followed. As the good work in the village increased, and the number of converts was multiplied, the people of the surrounding neighborhoods became also interested, and attended the meeting. Many of these were induced to accept the obligations of a holy life, and as a result, invitations began to multiply, requesting me to open appointments in their respective localities. I now selected five of the most central neighborhoods and established in them week-day evening services. But as the summer drew on, they were discontinued except two, and these, as the most promising, were assigned to the Sabbath, and were filled on alternate days at four o'clock in the afternoon. To meet these appointments, in addition to the regular services in the village, required four sermons each Sabbath. As to the propriety of undertaking this amount of labor, I need say nothing. Some may deem it an evidence of zeal, but others that of folly.

During this year the Milwaukee District established a system of platform missionary meetings on the several charges. To further the object, it was decided to appoint two or three ministers to attend each meeting, and by dividing the labor throughout the district, bring thereby all the preachers upon the platform. On several of these occasions, I found myself associated with a brother who was beginning to attract considerable attention as a speaker. We usually put him on the programme for the closing speech, that he might furnish the "rousements," as Bishop Morris would say, for the collection. And in this particular we were seldom disappointed. The good brother was always ready for what might be called a flaming speech. And though he always ran in much the same channel, his craft, to use a figure, was always full-rigged and under full sail. But, to change the figure, and bring it more fully into harmony with the department of nature, from which the brother had evidently derived his name, I might say his pinions were always full fledged and in full tension for a lofty flight. Unfortunately, however, he could never fold his wings in time to make a graceful descent when he desired to come down to the plane of ordinary mortals. In the descent he would sometimes "swap ends" so many times, that it was a marvel that a broken neck was not the result. But to his own mind these airy flights were always sublime, and especially so when he struck the quotation, which usually closed each missionary speech, that placed the herald of the Gospel on the highest pinnacle of time, and made him "look back over the vista of receding ages" and "forward over the hill-tops of coming time," and "lift up his voice until it should echo from mountain top to mountain top, from valley to valley, from river to river, from ocean to ocean, from isle to isle, and from continent to continent, the whole earth around." Of course the collection always followed this speech, and if it proved to be pretty good, a few additional feathers went into the pinions for the next flight.

On one of these occasions our orator became greatly elated with his success, and rallied me upon the difference between the broad, velvety wing of the miller and the long, sharp pointed wing of his species. The opportunity was too good to be lost. I replied, "Well, my brother, I had a thought last night, when I saw you towering to such dizzy heights in your speech." "What was it?" he enquired, eagerly. "Oh!" I replied, "I would hardly dare to tell you." "Yes, yes," said he, "let us have it." I still hesitated, until the several brethren present joined him in his persistent request. "Well," I answered, "if you insist upon it I will state it. When I saw you making your lofty flights, I thought if you could only have a few feathers plucked from the wings of your imagination and placed in the tail of your judgment, you would make a grand flyer." The next flight was made with greater caution.

The balance of the year at Waukesha was given to the ordinary demands of the work. To the Church there had been large accessions and to the Parsonage a welcome guest, in the person of our eldest daughter.

The Wisconsin Conference for 1849 was held at Platteville. I crossed the State in a buggy and was assigned to Father Mitchell's for entertainment. To enjoy the hospitality of this truly Christian gentleman and veteran patriarch for a week was a privilege that would mark an era at any time in a man's life. At this Conference I was ordained an Elder by Bishop Janes, and received my appointment for a second year at Waukesha. Rev. Elihu Springer was returned to Milwaukee District for the third year.

At my first Quarterly Meeting the Elder insisted on a reconstruction of my work, in which he was joined by the Local Preachers and several other brethren of the charge. The noon-day sermon was dispensed with and the Sabbath afternoon appointments were given mainly to the care of the Local Preachers. These were William Carpenter, Hiram Crane, and Miles L. Reed, a trio of noble and devoted men.

Assisted by these faithful men and a united and earnest church, the work grew upon our hands, and this second year was also blessed with a precious revival. It was in connection with this revival and the garnering of the converts that the controversy arose between us and the Baptist friends on the subject of baptism. As many of our converts had not enjoyed favorable opportunities to become informed on this subject, the Pastor was desired by formal request to preach a sermon on the mode of baptism. This was done, and soon after the official board requested a copy for publication. The writer, supposing it was merely intended to secure a few copies through the columns of the village newspaper for convenient reference, hastily furnished the discourse. Instead, however, of procuring a few slips only, it was published in pamphlet and given a more extensive circulation. In due time it was taken up by the Pastor of the Baptist Church and reviewed at length in his pulpit. On the following Sabbath the reviewer was himself reviewed, and here ended the controversy. It is a question whether such controversies are really beneficial. They usually engender strife and party feeling, and not unfrequently alienate the servants of our common Master. But that such was not the case in this instance is pretty evident from the fact that at the session of our Conference in Waukesha the following year, the writer was requested to fill on the Sabbath the pulpit of his former antagonist.

On this charge also the writer took his first serious lesson in Church trials. The matter in question arose out of a misunderstanding between a man and his wife, growing out of a want of interest, perhaps, on the part of the one, and jealousy on the part of the other. Like other inexperienced administrators whom I have known, in trying to make crooked things straight, I invoked an agency that became a fire and a sword in my hand. Neither the Church nor the individuals concerned derived any advantage in the result, and though the wisdom of the administration was never called in question as far as I knew, yet I could not suppress the conviction that Church trials can only be commended as a last resort. It is much easier to awaken than allay the spirit of strife. Abating this discordant note, which did not long disturb the harmony of the Church, the two years we spent on this charge are freighted with most precious memories. Full of incident, and fragrant with blessing, they form a bright link in the chain of our itinerant life. Happy in our work, with only occasional calls for special services abroad, the years passed swiftly and joyously.

Referring to services abroad reminds me of the Quarterly Meeting I held for the Presiding Elder, on what was then called Howard's Prairie, some twenty miles distant. Seated in my buggy with my wife and child, I started on Friday afternoon for the place. We reached the neighborhood at nightfall. We were directed by the Elder to call on a given family for entertainment, the gentleman being the most wealthy Methodist in the settlement. We halted the buggy at his gate, and I went in to crave his hospitality. As I approached the door and addressed myself to the master of the premises, he put on a frigid expression of countenance, and answered me coldly. I decided at once that I would not make myself known, but try the spirit of the man. I inquired whether there was to be a Quarterly Meeting in his neighborhood. He replied in the affirmative. I then inquired where the Methodist preachers put up when they came into the settlement.