Speaking of this wedding recalls the fact that it was on this circuit, while visiting my uncle the year before, that I married my first couple. I remember, too, that I approached the occasion with great trepidation. It was an awful task. But the eventful hour finally came. The parsonage, so called, where the nuptials were to be celebrated, was a log cabin of one room. The kitchen, which stood several feet from the main building, was the only place offered in which to arrange the toilet. At last I stood before the young couple and began the ceremony, which I had committed to memory. Yes, I had it sure, as I thought. I had gone over it twenty times or more. In practising for the occasion I had joined trees and fence stakes, and I know not what all, together; but at the very moment when I needed it, and couldn’t get along without it, the whole thing suddenly left me. There I was. After an extended pause and a most harrowing silence I rallied, and began by saying, “We are gathered together.” Just then my voice failed me; it seemed impossible to make a noise, even. I fairly gasped for breath, for that was the one thing I seemed to need most. At last the effort was renewed. How I got through I never knew. I seemed to be in a mysterious realm, where the unknowable becomes more incomprehensible, and when all the past and future seem to unite in the present. Finally I wound up what seemed to be long-drawn out affair, and pronounced the innocent couple man and wife. I am glad they always considered themselves married. I have but little recollection of what I did or said during the ordeal. In fact, I do not care to know, since I am so far away from the occasion. Yes, that was my first wedding.
The year was not without its material enterprises, for we completed the churches at Glady Fork and Waterloo, repaired one at Indian Camp, and started a new one at Laurel Run. Some of these stand yet as moral and religious centers, and, at times, through the intervening years, have been the scenes of great spiritual awakenings.
Conference was held at New Haven, in Mason County, with Bishop D. Edwards in the chair. While our report was thought to be fairly good, I asked for a change, believing that I could do better work on another field. The favor was granted, and Hessville Mission assigned me as my third charge.
At the close of this year there were thirty-one ministers employed in the conference, whose aggregate salary was $4,551.77, or an average of $147 each. The three presiding elders received, all told, $843.83. These figures indicate something of the sacrifices made by the men who gave themselves to the early work of building up the Church in the Virginias. Greater heroism of the apostolic type was never displayed by any of the sons of Otterbein, nor can any part of the country show greater achievements for the work done.
CHAPTER III.
Hessville Mission embraced portions of Harrison and Marion counties, and was made up of the following preaching places: Quaker Fork, Glade Fork, Indian Run, Big Run, Little Bingamon, Ballard School-house, Salt Lick, Plumb Run, and Paw-paw. In all this territory we did not own a single church edifice. By fall I had added Dent’s Run, Bee Gum, and Glover’s Gap, making twelve appointments in all. At the last named place I held a revival in a union church. The meeting was good, and telling most favorably upon some of the best families of the town, when an unknown miscreant at an early morning hour applied the torch and reduced the building to ashes. All I lost in the conflagration was my Bible and hymn-book. Moving into a schoolhouse near by, the meeting was continued, and a class organized. By the middle of the winter there had been sixty-five accessions, but from that on till spring I had to lay by on account of measles.
At Little Bingamon we had a great meeting. The entire community was deeply stirred. “Aunt Susan” Martin was my main helper and standby. While devout in life, and strong in faith, she had a blunt, honest way of saying things which often amused the people. At this meeting two of her children made a start. One was a son of some fifteen winters. He literally wore himself out by his night and day pleadings at the altar, and became so hoarse that he could scarcely talk. His mother was greatly agitated over his condition, and grew exceedingly anxious to see the intense struggle terminated. One evening she bowed at the altar with him that she might, through instruction, show him a better way. She did not believe that bodily exercise could be made to avail anything in seeking salvation. Finally, for a moment, she lost her patience, and said, “Now, if you don’t quit this kind of praying you will kill yourself. Stop it, I tell you, or I’ll box your ears good. The Lord isn’t deaf, that you should ‘holler’ so loud.” Then turning to her husband who, at the time, was a professed moralist, though faithful in attending and supporting the church services, she said: “George, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Not a word have you for this poor child. Now come and talk to him. To stand and look on is no way to do.”
The dear sister was right, not only in thinking that the father ought to help the son, but in protesting against unnecessary physical demonstrations in seeking religion. It is not the loud praying or constant pleading that saves men, but faith in the world’s Redeemer. Rev. H. R. Hess, one of the leading ministers in the West Virginia Conference, was soundly converted and received into the church during this meeting.
What a good home I had while on this charge! Brother Daniel Mason, a father in Israel, whose life was as pure as a sunbeam, took me to his home and heart, and treated me very much as the Shunammite did Elisha. He built me a little room on his porch, and put therein a bed, bookcase, table, and candlestick. The worth of such a place to a young minister is next to incalculable. Twice a day he read the Word and prayed. He was on good terms with his Lord, and talked to him with the greatest assurance. Some of the sweetest memories of my earlier ministry cluster about this Christian home. The fruition of the upper and better life he now enjoys as the reward of his faith, service, and devotion while here below.