The following evening I had an engagement to preach at Mount Moriah, still farther east some thirty miles. It rained the day through. A part of the journey I followed a single trail, popularly known as a “hog path.” Such a route relieved me somewhat from the mud, but, being in the woods, I could not carry an umbrella over me, hence had to take the rain as it came; but I must not disappoint the people. They had my word for it that I would be there, and the promise must be sacredly kept. It was a little after dark when I caught a glimpse of the lights in the old log church; but, hold! I suddenly found myself up against another serious difficulty—Parchment Creek was out of its banks. There seemed no show for getting over except to plunge in and swim my horse. I hesitated; already wet and cold, I was loath to make the attempt. I would have to carry my saddle-bags on my shoulder if I saved my Bible, hymn-book, and sermons; the water would come to my waist, to say the least. Then another trouble appeared; it was too dark to see the road or landing-place on the opposite side, and I might drift below it with the current and not get out at all. While thus cogitating, I heard some boys talking on the other side as they were going to church. Calling to them, I said, “Boys, can’t you in some way help me over the creek?” “Who are you?” was the reply. “I’m the preacher,” I answered, “and want to get to the church.” After a short consultation among themselves, one of them shouted back, “All right; we’ll bring the skiff after you.” Soon I heard them push out from the shore, and in a few moments they landed near me. “Now,” said one, “you get in here with Bill, and I’ll swim your hoss over,” and in less time than it takes to pen the happenings, he was in the saddle on his knees and starting for the water. Did he get over safely? Yes, indeed; he entered the stream above the usual place of going in, hence the horse swam, not against the current, but at an angle with it. In every way possible I thanked those boys for their kindness to me, for they had certainly kept me from putting my life in peril. If they are still living and should happen to glance over these pages, they will readily recall the event.
The church was nearly full of people, and I certainly enjoyed preaching to them. The great Father had been graciously with me to guide my ways and to protect my life. How glad I will be if, on the morning of the eternal to-morrow, I shall find that the service that evening helped some soul heavenward!
Rev. W. W. Rymer, over thirty years ago, nearly lost his life in this same region on account of high waters. His horse either could not or would not swim, but plunged furiously when beyond his depth. The heroic itinerant stayed in the saddle as long as he could, but was finally dislodged and went down. In the midst of it all he retained his presence of mind and aimed for the nearest shore, which was not far away. Being unable to swim, he crawled on the bottom a part of the way, and at last found himself where he could stand with his head above the water. The horse, fortunately, came out on the same side. Commenting on the incident, Mr. Rymer says: “After my deliverance, it was clear to me that I had been near death’s door, and also near heaven. Two thoughts followed; one was: ‘If I had not escaped, I would now be in glory,’ and I confess I felt good over the reflection. The other was: ‘No, it is better that I got out, for if I had drowned, my parents would have had great sorrow.’ I took it all to mean that my work was not yet done, and soon experienced great peace of mind. Almost thirty-one years have come and gone since then, but the ruling purpose of my heart all the while has been to preach Jesus. Before thirty-one years more have rolled around, I shall have gone through death’s river—yes, through to the other side, where I shall see my Lord face to face.”
Let the reader be assured that there is a profound satisfaction in looking back to those times of trial and suffering, of battle and victory, when the ways of Providence were so plain, and when an unspeakable jay crowned the years of toil and service.
After another ride of twelve miles from Mount Moriah, I reached my home in Cottageville, near the Ohio River. How inexpressibly delightful to be at home again with wife and little ones! What a heavenly place home is when love and sunshine await the itinerant’s coming! While he ministers to them, they also minister tenderly to him; such mutual love and helpfulness is to be found nowhere else.
My support for the year consisted of $427.83 in salary and $22.41 in presents. Fifty dollars of this went for house rent, and fully as much more for traveling expenses. Beside these outlays, we kept hired help in the home all the time.
Buckhannon, Upshur Country, was the seat of the next session of the conference. The noble Bishop Glossbrenner was with us in the fullness of the Spirit, and charmed us with the warmth and sweetness of his gospel messages. As recording secretary, I edited a little “daily,” which gave the proceedings of the conference. This was the first and last attempt of the kind. Such an arrangement is nice, to be sure, and sounds well when we talk about it, but it always costs more than it is worth. The town papers are usually willing and anxious to report the work.
During the session a most amusing incident took place. A colored brother by the name of Waldo came to me at the noon hour on Thursday, and asked me to marry him that evening at eight o’clock. I said, “Waldo, I cannot grant your request. We have an evening session of conference, and I must be there. However, if you will put it off till nine o’clock, I will be on hand.” But to such an arrangement he would not agree. The long-looked-for moment could not be delayed. Eight o’clock was the hour about which clustered the sweetest anticipations of his life. The goal toward which he had striven must be reached and won on schedule time. So, with a twinkle of the eye, characteristic of the negro, he exclaimed: “Good Lawd! the thing’s gone too fah now; no putting it off.” Of course I had to arrange for another secretary under circumstances so vitally essential to the brother’s happiness and welfare. The reason why he chose me to perform the ceremony, he said, was because I had converted him eight years before.