IsmSml^mH^ ^r- F FRAGILE DOB NOT CWCUUTl CORNELL UNIVERSITY LBRARIES ITHACA, N. Y. 14853 JOHN M. OUN LIBRARY DAT^,j5UE /m- ^Ca FRAG LE DO£t diRCULAI TfDT FRAGILE PAPER Please handle this book with care, as the paper is brittle. Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924010165680 03 O n THE Galax Gatherers THE GOSPEL AMONG THE HIGHLANDERS / BY EDWARD O. GUERRANT I ' ' Belvoir, WUmore Jessamine County, Kentucky Edited by His Daug-hter, Grace ^ PUBLISHED BY ONWARD PRESS I RICHMOND, VIRGINIA ^ |C(lO COPYRIGHT 1910 BY EDWARD O. GUERRANT LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO 'WHOSE I AM, AND WHOM I SERVE" A FOREWORD This is not a Novel, which its name might suggest, but the truth, which is sometimes "stranger than fiction." These are real people and places, and not figments of the imagination. The partiality of friends is largely responsible for the publication of these random notes, written while travel- ling and preaching through the mountains. They were not written for pleasure or profit, but for the Glory of God and the salvation of His long-neglected children in the Highlands. Both objects are worthy of a better advocate. Dr. Dabney said of these Highlanders, "They are the most distinctly American stock on the continent." And Dr. Talmage recently said, "The inhabitants of the mountains are the last of earth's children who shall yield their hearts to the conquering march of Christ." "Win the Highlanders for Christ and you win the world for Christ." No nobler object could engage our hand and heart. That you may share in this great work and its glorious reward is our humble prayer. Our thanks are due to Drs. Lilly, McCorkle, Patton and Bryan, and Professor Gordon and Mrs. Mary Hoge VI A FOREWORD Wardlaw, Mrs. Judd and Mrs. Wells for their contribu- tions. But especially to my companion and amanuensis, my daughter, whose faithful help made the work possible, I owe more than I can repay. Commending these simple annals of the Highlanders to God and His children who love Him and their fellow- men, I am sincerely, Your fellow servant. Edward O. Guerrant. CONTENTS Page Frontispiece. Introduction VK The Galax Gatherers 1 Glencairn 6 In the Mountains of Old Virginia 9 In the North Carolina Alleghanies 15 On the Estatoa 19 The Scotch-Irish 24 Dan Mcintosh 27 Dedication on Haddix Fork 30 A Highland Wedding 33 From the Big Black Mountain 36 The Ivy Patch 42 From Hazard 46 From the Troublesome 49 A Trip Up the Big Sandy 54 One Woman 57 A Little Visit to Turkey Creek 59 A Visit to Raven Roost 62 On the Shoulder Blade 65 Proctor Bill 68 Chenowee (Dr. J. D. Patton) 73 On the Upper Quicksand 76 Elkatawa 83 Panther Ridge 86 The House that God Built 91 The Church on the Grapevine 94 Preaching to the Poor 98 Coming to Christ Barefooted 102 Visit to Cataloochee 104 In the Great Smoky Mountains 109 At Ebenezer 113 Bear Creek 117 VIII CONTENTS Page Mormons in the Mountains 119 Satan and the Mormons 129 Missions on the Canoe 132 Dedication of the Church on the Canoe 136 On the Canoe 140 The Regions Beyond 144 Puncheon Camp 147 Twenty Years After 150 Bloody Breathitt 152 Highland College 156 A Red Letter Day 157 To the Children of the City 161 The Orphans Home (Dr. D. Clay Lilly) 162 F«ed My Lambs 166 Two Highland Funerals (Mrs. Mary O'Rear Everett) 171 A Tour Through the Cumberlands 175 Glen Athol (Mrs. Mary Hoge Wardlaw) 179 A Unique Contest 184 A Word from Prof. Gordon 186 Pentecost at Puncheon Camp (Rev. J A. Bryan) 189 A Girl's Trip in the Far Cumberlands 191 On the Grapevine (Grace Guerrant) 195 To Big Creek (Grace Guerrant) 199 Jett's Creek 202 The Lucky Thirteen 205 From the Lost Creek 208 A Teacher's Letter 212 INTRODUCTION REV, DR. W. W. MOORE, Union Theological Seminary, Richmond, Va. Some years ago, wishing a practical article of a certain type for one of the issues of the Union Seminary Magazine, I requested Dr. Guerrant to furnish it. He wrote me in reply that it had not been his specific mis- sion to write the Gospel but to preach it, and seemed to imply that he had no special skill with the pen. For love of his alma mater, however, he granted my request and sent the article desired. The readers of that article and of the various articles descriptive of his evangelistic tours in the mountains, which have appeared from time to time in our church papers, do not need to be told that he was quite too modest in his estimate of his gifts in this way, and that his style as a writer is no less indi- vidual and striking and effective than his style as a speaker, which is saying a great deal, as all know who have heard him preach. The same underestimate of his gifts with the pen would have prevented him from ever publishing in more permanent form what he calls "these little field notes concerning the mountain work," and it is only to the filial admiration of his devoted ama- nuensis and coworker that we are indebted for the appearance of this volume. The author gave his con- sent only when assured by her and by others who knew their value that the publication of these wayside notes would help the cause fcff which they were wrjtteii. ^d X INTRODUCTION thus glorify God in promoting the education and salva- tion of those long neglected Highlanders whom he so earnestly desires to help to a better life on earth and a better home beyond it. There are some men who have never given a minute's study to the technique of authorship, but who know how to write, as a bird knows how to fly. Robert Louis Stevenson, himself a carefully-trained author, writing to Dr. John Brown of the fame he had won and the friends he had made by the apparently effortless produc- tion of that English classic, Bab and His Friends, says : "Ye scarce deserved it, I'm afraid — You that had never learned the trade, But just some idle mornin' strayed Into the schule, An' picked the fiddle up and played Like Neil himsel'. Your e'e was gleg, your fingers dink ; Ye didnae fash yersel' to think. But wove, as fast as puss can link. Your denty wab : — Ye stapped your pen into the ink, An' there was Rab." So with Dr. Guerrant. He stapped his pen into the ink, and there was the American Highlander, — with his little cabin and his large family, his hard poverty and his deep ignorance, his spiritual destitution and his eager response to the preaching of the pure gospel. These quick, short, unstudied sketches bring before us the region and the people with a vividness that any professional writer who ponders over his phrases and INTRODUCTION XI carefully polishes his periods might envy. No waste of words — no beating about the bush — no leisurely ap- proach — swift and straight he goes to the heart of his subject. The opening of Tom Sawyer is not more abrupt or effective than that of the sketch entitled Bear Creek. Yet there is a poetic vein in him which ever and anon crops to the surface as he revels in the beauty of God's world, as where he speaks of "the great moun- tain with its autumnal dress of crimson and purple and gold, and its rich, dark mantle of balsams around its giant shoulders." And there is a quaint humor that twinkles in the most unexpected places, as where he says of a remote and forlorn settlement, "We felt lone- some here. But the Lord had promised to go with us 'to the end of the world,' and as we had reached that place, we claimed that promise." As Sir Walter Scott by The Lady of the Lake and Rob Roy made the Highlands of Scotland known to the world and turned an endless stream of tourists through those romantic regions, so Dr. Guerrant, by these sketches, has helped to give to the world a true knowl- edge of this vastly greater and wilder Appalachian region with its four millions of untutored and un- Christianized people, and has done more than any liv- ing man to turn a saving stream' of evangelists and teachers into its remote and needy recesses. He has been in turn Soldier, Doctor and Evangelist, — these three, — but the greatest of these is Evangelist. His heart has responded to the sore need of this vast region, as large as the German Empire, and practically without churches, Sabbath schools, or qualified teachers. He has recogni^ d^y liiat this Hgme Mission work is XII INTRODUCTION the paramount obligation resting upon our people. He has himself for twenty-five years labored there as his other duties have allowed him opportunity. Seeing that he and all the colaborers he could secure from his own church were quite inadequate to the stupendous task of giving the blessings of education and religion to this great territory, he called upon all other Christian people to help. And the real significance of this volume to the Christian conscience is that it is throughout a reitera- tion of that call. For, notwithstanding all that has been done, the field is yet almost untouched; there are many thousands yet unreached ; and as Dr. Guerrant says, "the question is not whether they can be saved without the Gospel but whether we can be saved if we do not give it to them." The Galax Gatherers Probably Solomon, who said there was "nothing new under the sun," was acquainted with the Galax Gather- ers, but I must confess they were new to me, until I went to the North Carolina Alleghanies. A word about this interesting people may not be unwelcome. On my way to their lofty mountains, I stopped to see Rev. R. F. King, our faithful Evangelist in the hill country of East Tennessee. Leaving the railroad at Piny Flats, in Sullivan County, I was driven several miles over the green hills to White's Store, where I expected to preach in a large school-house at Rocky Spring. Brother King was awaiting my coming, and clever Mr. Burkey gave me a nice home and a Ten- nessee welcome; I could wish no better. This region lies in the "forks" of the Holston and Watauga Rivers, and though nothing but rocks and hills, it is picturesque. The people, though mostly in humble circumstances, are thrifty and industrious. Mr. Burkey told me he handles some ten thousand chickens a year, eggs without number, and a considerable quan- tity of walnut-kernels. This industry was also new to me. The congregations soon crowded the spacious school- house, and though quite unwell, I managed to preach morning and night for ten days, omitting one day, and sitting down to preach one day, when too weak to stand. The weather was very hot, but the patient people came 8 Galax Gatheeees> and in crowds. One day Mr. King took me dovra deeper into the Fork, to Deer Lick, where I preached to a school-house crowded with a deeply interested people. After the sermon nearly every one came up to confess the Savior. Another day we went even beyond the school-house — to Smokey — and preached in the open woods, beneath the great oaks, to a large crowd, seated on the rocks, on boards and on the ground. Here again God touched many hearts, and they confessed the Savior with tearful joy. It was good to be there, in such good company, with God and His poor children. These are some of Brother King's many preaching points. On Sabbath morning, I preached the last time at Rocky Spring, to a large congregation. At the close, twenty-five young girls and women came forward and publicly confessed the Savior. It was a strange and beautiful sight, the like of which I had never seen. There was not a single man or boy among the number. While the Gospel is freely offered to all, the majority of the saved will be girls and women, as far as I have observed. I was glad to learn that a benevolent man (Col. Gregg) had left $6,000.00 to build a nice brick church here for these poor, but worthy, people. I was sorry to leave them, but remembered there was One who will never leave. That Sunday night I went to Brother King's home and preached at the old church, "New Bethel," founded one hundred and twenty years ago. It is a large church, and was crowded to the doors, with a fine congregation. I expected it, after one hundred and twenty years of training in the Confession, the Cate- chisms, and sanctified with the memory of the Doaks Sketches of the Ameeican Highlandees. 3 the Kings, the Hodges, the Bachmans, and other mighty men of God, who have here proclaimed the Gospel. It was an honor to preach in that pulpit. But I must go on to the Galax Gatherers, before you get impatient. Leaving Brother King, doing the work of two men, in a big Missionary field, I crossed the rapid Watauga, at DeVault's Ford, Sunday night, and rested there half a day. That evening found me in Johnson City, and Tuesday morning on the new rail- road, through Unicoi County, and up the Nolachucky River, into North Carolina. On the train I met Brother Cochrane and his family, from Bristol, going to rest awhile at Unaka Springs. I only wished I had time to rest awhile myself. But Cecil John Rhodes said "So much to do, so little done," and I went on. We will rest in Heaven. East Tennessee, the Switzerland of America, is beau- tiful: with its emerald hills and quiet vales, and lofty mountains and limpid streams. If one had nothing to do but enjoy himself, I don't know a better place, in summer. Some thirty miles brought us to the Gorge, where the Nolachucky cuts its way for twelve miles through the great Unaka Mountain, of solid rock, some five hundred feet high. It surpasses the gorges of the New River and the French Broad, and is longer than the Canon of the Arkansas through the Rocky Mountains. It is awfully grand. The building of the railroad here is a triumph of skill and hard work. Emerging from the Gorge, we are in Mitchell County, North Carolina, on the beautiful Estatoa River (here called the 'Toe). This js the same river as the Nolachucky, but when it passes 4 Galax GatheeeeSj and into Tennessee it changes its name. At Green Moun- tain, the present terminus of the road, clever Mr. Bow- ditch met me with a saddle horse and, we rode and walked some seven or eight miles up a rough road along the rapid river to the school-house, where our Mission- ary, Miss Elizabeth McPherson, is teaching some sixty- bright mountain boys and girls. Here Brother Harris, the Bishop of the Estatoa, met me and helped me faith- fully for a week. Though quite unwell, I preached twice a day, for several days, to a large school-house crowded. This is called "Loafer's Glory," but I am glad the loafers have departed, and the glory of moun- tain and valley still remain. It is indeed a grand coun- try. Even the deep valleys are 2,400 feet above the outside world, and the old Roan Mountain looks down from its throne, 6,334 feet up in the sky. More than twenty years ago I preached on that mountain top, the first sermon and perhaps the last. How time flies, and the mountains remain, hoary with the passing centuries, and still unchanged and godlike. One day I had the pleasure of a ride over Gouge's Hill to Bakerville, the county seat. It is a clean, quiet little village of nice homes around the court-house, and Gudger's hotel, an ideal summer resort, when the rail- road comes. On Sunday morning. Brother Hluddleston, of the Methodist Church, filled his appointment at the school- house, and I had the pleasure of hearing an earnest ser- mon. I preached at night, and again Monday morning and night, when sixteen men and women came forward and confessed Christ and gave their names to Brother Harris to organize a church. Some others had joined Sketches op the American Highlandees. 5 before, for all of which we thanked God. Mr. Bowditch gave a beautiful site for the church, and the generous people subscribed over $300.00 to build the first church there in that cozy mountain hamlet. Those who know Brother Harris will expect it to be dedicated in a few months. Being too weak to preach longer, I reluctantly bade good-bye to clever John Stewart, my good host, and his kind family and friends, and turned my face towards my home beyond the Cumberlands. But I will not go, before I add a postscript and tell you who the Galax Gatherers are. This is their native country, and the galax is a wild foliage plant which grows on the bleak sides and sum- mits of the big mountains of North Carolina. It has a rich green color in the summer, which deepens into a splendid bronze as the winter approaches. These leaves (about the size of a colt's foot) are used in the homes of the rich people in the cities for decoration. During the fall and winter, the poor people find employment and small compensation in gathering the leaves and sell- ing them, at from fifteen to twenty-five cents a thousand. It is a hard way to make a living, especially when snow and ice cover the mountains, and when the leaves are most valuable. Probably none who enjoy their gor- geous foliage in a stately mansion ever know what labor and sacrifice and suffering these leaves cost the poor Highlanders. But there are compensations in all things. They live in God's royal presence on the great mountains, where red blood, and ruddy cheeks, and sinewy limbs are 6 Galax Gathekees, axd made, and pure thoughts and noble impulses and high aspirations are born. The Lord of glory Himself was born, and lived and died, among the Galax Gatherers of the holy mountains beyond the seas. It is a privilege and pleasure to preach to them the same sweet old story He first preached on the mountains of Galilee, and last preached on the sacred mountain at Jerusalem. This is the mission of the Soul Winner Society, whose seventy missionaries are carrying this blessed evangel to ' thousands of humble homes in the AUeghanies and Cum- berlands. GLENCAIRN. This is a little mountain hamlet in the most romantic Cumberlands. I guess some Scotchman named it, though most anybody could have put the Glen and Cairn together in a name, as God had done in nature. It is a wild and beautiful cleft among the old sandstone mountains, just wide enough for a little, clear stream, and some small, humble cabins between the beetling rocks. The mountains were covered with their gaudiest dress of crimson and gold, as if for a feast instead of a funeral. The white shroud of winter will soon replace this gorge- ous gown of the autumn ; and this fact took me there to see two noble women, who are working in our mission. We knew they had lived through the summer in an open ranch, which would not turn the snows or storms of winter. They did not complain, but counted it all joy Sketches of the American Highlanders. 7 to endure hardships for Him, who endured death on the cross for them. There is no church in the country; and when I preached there the little school-house of the Soul Win- ners' Mission could not hold the people, so we adjourned to a saw-mill shed, half a mile away, and it was filled with eager listeners, who stood a storm which beat in upon them from the unprotected sides of the big shed. They were the same "common people" who heard the Savior gladly on the mountains of Galilee. In front of the little cabin of our missionaries stood a lofty cliff, over five hundred feet high, where many birds of prey built their safe eyries. Behind the cabin, a tall mountain shut out the view. The forest enclosed it on either side, so that the only open view was up toward God and heaven. It was well that they could see that way, for all their hope and help must come from Him. Lizzette, the younger, a graduate of Converse College (that noble school for girls in South Carolina), walked for miles between the cliffs and over the mountains, to conduct a mission-school, alone, and visit the sick, and carry the "glad tidings" to many humble homes along the narrow valleys. One month she walked over a hun- dred miles — there was no road to ride on, and no horse to ride. His "jewels" are gathered in such glens. Her aunt, a most accomplished woman, who spent years in the easier Spanish missions, taught her school nearby. The little school-house was just big enough to hold two dozen children — as bright and pretty as any I ever saw. Led by Birdo, they romped up and down the glen as free as the air, and as gentle as the fawns of their native hills. No such teacher as Mrs. T, had 8 Galax Gatheeees, and ever been in that wild glen, and all Glencairn loved and honored her and Miss Lizzette for their self-denying labors of love. The approaching winter sent Miss Lizzette to her far- off Southern home in Texas, but her elder sister came and took her place, as companion and helper to her aunt. I knew that they could not endure a Kentucky winter in the open cabin, so I went to see what could be done for their comfort. I was glad to find that an open-handed and big-hearted mountaineer, who had two cabins, had turned one of them over to our missionaries, free of rent. Of course it was a poor home for such women who had been reared in luxury. It had no ceiling, no fire-place, no carpet, no mattress, no paper- ing — only naked walls of unhewn boards and a bed- stead. Miss Lizzette had made. But they did not com- plain, but set about fixing it up to keep from freezing. Miss Annie had turned a corner into a wardrobe with some rough planks and bought some muslin to cover the bare walls. Some noble women at home promised to send them a carpet for their room and something to cover the spare-room, where the little school will "run" all winter. I am sure the Lord, who clothes the lilies and feeds the ravens, will not forget His faithful children at Glencairn, or anywhere else. I have told you this simple story, to show you and others, that God still has a people who love Him and His poor children, and who are glad to endure hard- ness for Him who endured the cross for them. The martyr-spirit still lives in hearts, even in timid women. We have many such noble women in these great moun- tains, teaching the way of life to hundreds of the poor, Miss Rivers' ScHooii in Patrick Ooukty, Va. Three Years' Growth Sketches oe the Ameeioan Highlandbes. 9 but grateful, children of the hills. One I know, who has never seen a church since she went into the mission field, now almost three years ago. Their reward is in heaven. Have you a part in this noble work ? "There comes a time in the future near. When this life has passed away. When these needy ones will stand with me In the light of the Judgment Day. When the angel reads from the book of life. My deeds for that great review, If the Lord should speak and accuse me there, I wonder what I should do? The Son of Man, with his angels fair. Will sit on the great white throne ; And out of the millions gathered there, HJe will know and claim His own. If he says to me those words I've read In that Book so old and true, 'Inasmuch as ye did it not to these,' I wonder what I should do?" Settle that great question now, so He may say to you : "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink ; I was a stranger and ye took me in ; I was naked and ye clothed me." A WEEK IN THE MOUNTAINS OF OLD VIRGINIA. By the kindness of some of my ministerial brethren, I was permitted to preach 3 week recently in the mining- 10 Galax Gathbrees, and camp on Tom's Creek, in Wise County, Virginia. — Some account of that interesting field may not be without its lessons to those unacquainted with their neighbors. I left my home on Tuesday, October 3d, and pass- ing through the Cumberland Mountains at Middlesboro, arrived on the second day, at Norton, Virginia, above Big Stone Gap. Here I was met by Rev. F. E. Rog- ers, the evangelist in charge of this field. If you don't know how a pelican of the wilderness feels, go as an evangelist to the mountains, one hun- dred miles beyond all who know and love you. I need not say we were glad to see each other. "Sheep among wolves" need no introduction. But I was not quite so much a stranger as I thought, when a bright young fel- low walked up and shook hands with me and said his name was Reese Bowen, son of Col. Tom Bowen and Augusta Stuart, and grandson of Gen. Reese Bowen, of Tazewell County, Virginia. Some twenty years ago, when he was a lad, I preached his little sister's funeral at his grandfather's old home, at Maiden Spring, Vir- ginia. I was surprised and gratified that he remem- bered me. I guess heaven will be full of such glad sur- prises. After dinner. Brother Rogers and I set out for Tom's Creek, twelve miles farther down the Norfolk and AVestern Railroad, among the red mountains of old Vir- ginia. If you were never in a coal-mining camp, you will have to go there, for a description of the dust and smoke from two hundred and fifty coke-ovens, and of the noises from engines and cars, and dinkeys and larreys, and tip- ples, and men and horses, and mules, and three thousand people of all colors (white is not a color) and sizes and Sketches of the Ameeioan Hiqhlanbebs. 11 tongues. The little and big houses were scattered for two miles in the narrow valley and along the mountain sides along Tom's Creek, which is the name for a river of black coal-dust. We were fortunate enough to get our room at one house, and our meals at another; one of Dr. Barr's flock, who has wandered away into these mountains. There is not a church here (for three thousand people), and no place to preach, except under a chestnut tree, or in a little school-house. We took the school-house, only because we couldn't warm the other place. It was half a mile of railroad tracks, and cars, and locomotives, up to the school-house, but many of the people came farth- er, and we did not complain, or get killed. Some thirty came out the first night, but they gradually filled up the little school-house, though many had never learned to go to church, for want of opportunity. The religious destitution was pitiful. In twenty-two families, I vis- ited one day, I found only about a dozen persons who had ever belonged to any church. They received me kindly in their humble homes, for most of them were Virginians. Indeed, of the fifteen hundred men there at work, only some thirty are foreigners (Hungarians). Brother Rogers worked faithfully under the greatest disadvantages. The men were at work from 7 A. M. to 6 P. M. in the mines and ovens, and digging and haul- ing, and building two hundred and fifty new coke-ovens. Everything was in a rush, except the church. Money, and not souls, was the object of all, but a few, a rem- nant of Israel who had not bowed the knee to Baal. A little prayer-meeting at 9 130 A. M., of half a dozen good women, held in one of the cottages, helped us preach at 12 Galax Gatheeebs, and night. The congregations and interest increased from day to day, in spite of the dark nights, and the tired bodies of the laborers, and the little uncomfortable school-house, without a breath of ventilation. Some of the wandering sheep were gathered back into the fold, the seed sown in many a heart that responded its accept- ance, and all the results left with God, whose word never returns to Him void. The harvest will come bye and bye. Pray for God's faithful laborer in this great and destitute field ; he needs much assistance and encourage- ment, and I am sorry I could not remain with him a month instead of a week. A mbnth's work here would doubtless gather a rich harvest of immortal souls ; but a place must be provided for the preaching, and earnest, prayerful effort made to reach these multitudes of neglected people. While here I took the opportunity to revisit Glades- ville, the county seat of Wise County, Virginia, where I joined the Confederate Army, February, 1862, thirty- seven years ago. I had ridden from my home, in cen- tral Kentucky, with a lot of other boys, across the one hundred miles of hostile mountains to the Southern Army. We found the old general in Gladesville, a little, mountain hamlet, 2,300 feet up on the Cumberland pla- teau, and there we enlisted for "three years, or during the war," to fight for old Virginia, the land of my fath- ers. It is eleven miles from Tom's Creek, but a good horse soon climbed the Guest's Mountain, two miles up to the plateau, and nine miles along it, to the little moun- tain town. The scenery beggars description. Nature had on her gayest autumnal dress of crimson and gold, and the gorgeous panorama, painted by the great Artist, Sketches of the American HighI/ANDees. 13 stretched away over blazing mountains and valleys, be- yond our utmost vision. Only a few houses and fields of red heather broke the solemn and awful monotony of the wilderness. The last time I passed this way, thirty-five years ago, I rode with John Morgan and two thousand brave men, on our last Kentucky campaign. How changed the scene! Now, only God and the old mountains remain. A lone boy was lazily grinding sorghum in a moun- tain dell, and reminded me that I first tasted it, in this very country, during the war. It was sorghum or no sweetening then. By lo A. M., I reached the old war- town of Gladesville I first saw thirty-seven years ago. Only two of the houses, and not a living soul, remained of its war-time inhabitants. What a lesson on this tran- sitory life ! Only two houses and the old hill remained of the Gladesville I knew. What memories they awak- ened ; what of good and ill, of joy and sorrow, of victory and defeat, are crowded into those thirty-seven years! But God was in them all, and through them all His lov- ing hand has led me ! I need not say I was lonesome in Gladesville, though the little town was wonderfully improved. A splendid court-house has taken the place of the old barn of one, we used as a hospital ; and many handsome homes have taken the place of the little cabins. But the men and places I knew were gone, the army wagons and mules, the cavalry, and infantry, and artillery, the clanging sabres and spurs, the burnished guns and bayonets, the sick and wounded soldiers, were all gone. Tom Hay- den's bugle was silent; the drum had sounded the last tattoo; the camp-fires were all out, and the boys had 14 Galax Gatheebks, and struck their tents, and most of them had pitched them beyond the river of death. I was not happy in Glades- ville ; it was a cemetery to me, and I did not stay long. But I found the dismantled old hotel, and the room where the general made me a soldier, and begged a piece of the wood to take home, as a memento of days "sacred to the memory" of many brave men. In the room above, where noble Captain Hawes kept the money to buy hard-tack and cotton clothes for the "boys," I found these words on the wall, in pencil : "Look and see where you are going, O soul of mine ! You are travelling to eternity, and when thou art there, will it be in heaven or in hell ! Be careful, O my soul, for while thou art in the flesh is the time to serve the Lord. Watch, therefore, for in an hour when we think not the Son of man cometh ; so beware, O my soul." Where that traveller is now, only God can tell. It was probably written by a soldier, and I hope he is in heaven. But I weary you. After dinner, at the hotel of Mr. Richmond (grandson of General Richmond, of Lee County, Virginia), with whose father and uncle I served in the war, I took my departure, — ^the rear-guard of the grand army which served under Marshall, and Williams, and Morgan, and Breckenridge, and Giltner, and Clay, in this part of the Confederacy. As I passed over the hill, I took a last look at Old Pound Gap, in the Cumberland Mountains, through which we passed So often, and the quiet village in the valley, with its thousand memories of the dead years, and the heroic men who people those years in my heart; I knew better then what Byron meant when he wrote words like these : Skbtohbb of the Ambricast Highlandebb. 15 "I feel like one who treads alone. Some banquet hall deserted; Its flowers all dead, its lights all out, And all but me departed." Hoping to meet those guests again, where they never part, in the land where the light never goes out, and the flowers never die, I am yours faithfully. IN THE NORTH CAROLINA ALLEGHANIES. I guess you do not often get letters from this altitude, — this "land of the sky," — where rivers are born. This may give my letter a chance to see out into the world below. For some years we have had a number of faithful mis- sionaries (of the Inland Mission) at work in these moun- tains, — notably, Rev. J. A. Harris, and a corps of lady teachers, as fine women as ever ministered to the Lord. I had intended making them a visit in the summer, but sickness prevented, so I had to postpone it until now. A long ride from home brought me to Asheville, the capital of Cloudland, Tvhere I met Mr. John K. Coit, colporteur of Synod. On a frosty morning we took passage in his little wagon for the high mountains of Yancey County. Ten miles down the beautiful French Broad River (the Indian Tockie-Oskie, or "Racing Waters"), brought us to Bun- combe Hall, at Alexanders's, where Mrs. Gen. Robert Vance dispenses a generous hospitality and helps in a little Sunday school. 16 Galax Gatheheks, and After a good dinner for man and beast, we left the river for the Big Ivy, which flows from the bosom of the Big Craggy Mountain. Our way lay across a wilderness of hills and valleys, big and little, the plateau of the Alleghany Mountains. Evening brought us to Democrat, on the Big Ivy (a post- office named when Qeveland was President), where most of the voters are un-Democratic. We found a good place to sleep, where the waters roar over the big mill-dam'. Brother Mac Davis, the Bishop of this Diocese, who lives five miles up the Big Ivy, caught us next morning before we got started (at 7 o'clock). He is the man for this region. His new church was to be dedicated on Sunday, and it was a sorrow to me that my engagements prevented me from being with him. Such men need help and deserve it, — deserve it more than they need it. He has prayed and fought whiskey out of his parish. To-day our journey led us through the clouds, from Big Ivy up the Little Ivy, a beautiful mountain stream, which we followed to its source in the mountain. We passed out of Buncombe County and journeyed through Madison County. I found the roads much better than in the Cumber- lands, as well as the houses and farms. More land is cleared, and it is better cultivated. It is an older coun-' try, and nearer the sources of education and refinement. The Cumberlanders are far away from the land of their fathers, and on the "wrong side" of the higher civiliza- tion (which is west of them). At Democrat I was surprised to find a canning fac- tory, where they were putting up thousands of cans of Cl»"^' n"" Nortd yc^^ A _ •%,. :^ ^^ <^ ;''si'." 14 /m so^-' re VK ftSHf POi-y^Mw/>o>fe£=!'fE'^-y\ ■:n.^-''' SOUL-WIN NEES' MISSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS 1 Elkatawa 2 Canoe 3 Shoulder Blade 4 Canoe 6 Puncheon Camp 6 Turner's Creek 7 Crockettsville 8 Buekhorn 9 Canyon Falls 17 (ilen Canon 2r> Bat Harbor 33 Poor Valley 10 Athol 18 Smoky 26 Tampa 34 Tom's Creek 11 Bear Creek 19 Lick Creek 27 Cataloochie 35 Paint Creek 12 Lost Creek 20 Loafers' Glory 28 Whitesbui-g 35 Haddix Fork 13 Bousseau 21 Estatoa 29 Jackson 37 Ivy Patch 14 Lambric 22 Paint Gap 30 Hazard 38 Chenowee 15 War Creek 23 Mt. Victory 31 Pea Eidge 39 Grape Vine IG Jett's Creek 24 Ebenezer 32 Happy Top 40 Panther Eidge 49 Oil Spring 50 Chavies 41 Bear Creelc 42 Clay City 43 Big Ivy 44 Eobbinsville 45 HaysvlUe 46 Paint Eock 47 Mieaville 48 Copper Hill Sketches of the Ameeican Highlandebs. 11 fresh peaches, apples and tomatoes. (The Cumberlands generally lack the peaches, tomatoes and cans.) Evening, and Mr. Coit's North Carolina deliberate pony brought us to the mountain at the Paint Gap. Crossing this on foot, we reached the head-waters of the Nolichucky River, which is about the head of the Mis- sissippi. We are now in Yancey County. I thought I had seen some apples before, but I was mistaken. I never saw the like ; apples were everywhere — big, little, red, brown, yellow and black apples. The trees were covered and the ground, too. Every day processions of wagons passed up the creek and over the mountains, going to Asheville, and even as far as South Carolina, with apples. I would call Yancey County the apple-orchard of the South. They are too common to taste good; yet they said it was only half a crop. It is hard for an out- sider to believe, but he knows something of God's bounty and man's imagination. Like all mountain people, they are generous to a fault. I had apples till I didn't want any more. In many respects the people resemble the Cumber- landers. They are about the same size and shape, speak the same language, though not so "easily provoked," and do not fight on as small a provocation. They are pure Anglo-Saxons and Scotch-Irish, with no foreign adulteration. They are better farmers and give their women less work in the field; even in the "fodder sea- son" I saw few at work pulling fodder, though this im- portant industry calls for dispatch. At clever William Penland's we found our first moun- tain mission teacher, Miss Nellie Rogers, and soon Rev. 18 Galax GathbeebSj aj/td J. A. Harris, of Micaville, one of the pioneer Soul Win- ners here, joined us. It was Saturday evening, but as we had no time to lose, I preached that night in the little school-house on Indian Creek, and slept well after my thirty miles' ride. I would recommend this treat- ment for insomnia. Sunday dawned clear and crisp (generally crisp up here around Mt. Mitchell), and a good crowd of people walked over mountains and val- leys to the new, unfinished church on Horton's Hill; very few rode. The clever people who had built the church were unable to put doors, or windows, or floor, or ceiling, or stove in it, but planks served for seats, and zeal for a stove, so we got along very well until the north wind blew, when we had to plank up the windows, and wish for summer. God, who is no respector of houses, came to visit His humble children of the hills, and one night fifteen of them accepted Christ, amid rejoicing in Yancey and in Heaven. During the week twenty united with the church, fifteen of whom received baptism and twelve more gave their names to Brother Harris for member- ship in the church, now ready to be organized here. They are plain, good people, unusually free from many of the vices of the day, and intelligent and desirous of education. Miss Nellie Rogers, a most accomplished lady and teacher, has given some two years of her best efiforts to help them to a higher education and a nobler life. She is only one of a score of such consecrated women em- ployed in this work by the Society of Soul Winners. Mr. Harris is, par excellence, the man for the work; a rare combination of grit and grace and gumption. It Sketches op the American Highlanders. 19 takes all three to succeed in this work. He is most ably seconded by Mr. Coit, and I could find no accusa- tion against them, except that they persist in trying to "keep house" themselves, and make a "poor out." There is no excuse for such failure in this State and country of lovely women. My time being limited, I had to leave Indian Creek on Saturday, to preach at Micaville that night, and thence up the South Toe (Estatoa) River, visiting the fields of labor of Misses Pope, Allison, Grier and Vickery. An opportunity (and an invitation) may induce me to tell you something of that part of the field, and the work of those noble women in the wilds of Yancey County, under the shadow of Mt. Mitchell. ON THE ESTATOA. Acting on the presumption that it is "better late than never" (sometimes), I will finish my former letter about my trip through the North Carolina Alleghanies. Having borrowed clever Henry Holcombe's mtoun- tain pony, I set out from Paint Gap, for Brother Harris' field on the South Toe River. My journey led me down the pretty valley of Indian Creek, across Cane River, to Bumsville, the capital of Yancey County. Being alone, I had the pleasure of enjoying the royal company of the great Black Mountains and their mighty Builder. Burnsville is a typical place to live a "quiet and peace- able" life, only it is a trifle too quiet for a man who had ever been down in the world below. (The town is 2,800 20 Galax Gatheeeks, and feet above most of the other people.) But one could not wish for finer water, purer air, or a better dinner than I found up there at an old soldier's tavern. It was the biggest thing in town or county, except the Black Mountain. I was surprised to find two nice colleges there; one built by the Baptist brethren, and one by the Presby- terians, through the generous help of Mrs. McCormick, of Chicago, who has done so much for the needy South- land. After dinner, and a look at Mr. Ray's large museum of curios, I left the quiet mountain-girt village, and started down Crabtree Creek for Micaville. The farther I went, the country grew poorer, the mountains taller, and the crab-apples more plentiful. I never saw as many ; they were going to waste by bushels. Evidently these good people don't know how to make French champagne in North Carolina. They could supply the market. The day was lovely, and the road passable (for one horse), though the creek persisted in keeping in it, and often compelled the traveller to ford it lengthwise. Evening, and the gray pony brought me to Micaville, which I almost fell over before I knew it was there, sit- ting in a little nest between the Mica mills. I believe two stores and two houses and the little log church com- prise its "improvements." Here I found Mr. Harris, the Bishop of the Estatoa, and his two assistants, Misses Rosa Lee Pope and Mat- tie E. Moore. Being a business man, he had appointed preaching for that Saturday night. The quaint little church on the hill was crowded with people, and the Sketches of the Ameeican Sighlandbes. 31 good singing was led by our lady missionaries. I preached my best to people who walked miles to church on Saturday night; was sorry I could not do better. Mr. Clontz furnished me a nice place to rest in his hospitable home, with the great Black Mountain look- ing down from 6,000 feet in the sky, into his front door. The poor people in cities and plains might well envy Mr. Clontz. Early Sunday morning we started up the Estatoa to the missions taught by Miss Allison and Miss Vickery. We had to flank old Celo, the Black Mountain Giant, and travel as wild a wilderness road as I ever saw in Cumberland or Rocky Mountains. It was too lonesome for even a wild-bird or a squirrel, and hardly a ray of sunshine found its way to the ground to light up the sombre wilderness. I rememjber only one "clearing" in many miles. The great mountain had on its autumnal dress of crimson and purple and gold, with its rich, dark mantle of balsams around its giant shoulders. God only could make such a wardrobe, and only a god among moun- tains could wear it. About II A. M. we reached the little cabin on the "South Toe," where we were to preach. Misses Marga- ret Allison and Mary Vickery, with native helpers, were teaching an interesting Sabbath school, of all ages. The house was too small for the congregation, so we moved out doors, and preached in the "First church," on the beautiful Estatoa. I need not say it was bigger than St. Paul's, and grander than St. Peter's. God built it, and garnished it with regal splendor of forest and field, mountain and river. 23 Galax Gatheeees, and It was too cool to sit in the shade, so I preached in the sun, and the good people kept warm by its October rays, tempered by Mt. Mitchell, which looked down from his eyrie in the clouds. The scene and day were memorable, and beyond the summits of these great mountains we will look back and thank God for it. I trust some precious souls were won to God that day. Many professed their faith, publicly. I found the country wild, and the people poor enough to be kind and generous. They are very much the same people as the Cumberlanders — Scotch-Irish and Anglo- Saxon — ^with probably a few more Huguenots. They are hospitable beyond their means, and unusually intel- ligent. They are much less inclined to fight and drink than their children beyond the mountains. The country being poor, God put treasures for them in the deep mica mines, which are found all along the mountains. Some of them have been worked for years and are very deep (three hundred feet). After preaching at 3 P. M. I found a hospitable home at "Uncle Jason" Ballou's "a lodge in a vast wilderness," at the foot of the great mountains. It was worth the journey to see that home and the mountain and forest. God was everywhere and man nowhere (outside the little family of four). It was easier to be good there, and they were good people. But even there they had their tribu- lations. A wildcat killed "Aunt Emily's" chickens in the yard, by daylight. "Uncle Jason's" hogs were wild, and had to be hunted with dogs on the big mountain; and the bears caught some of them. But with it all, they seemed contented and happy, having food and raiment. The most beautiful stream I ever saw, — the clearest Sketches of the Amekicak Highlanders. S3 and purest water, — is the wild and rapid Estatoa, flow- ing out of the bosom of Mount Mitchell, the monarch of the Black Mountains. Though in some places it was several feet deep, it was perfectly clear to the bottom, and the beautiful mountain trout could find no hiding place. Along this lovely- river, and beneath these great mountains, the Soul Win- ners have been laboring and gathering fruit unto ever- lasting life. The people help them in their work, and love them for their self-denial and service, in helping them to a better life and a happier home in heaven. But I will give you a rest, though I have many things to say yet. I preached twice a day for three days ; and at the last service ten persons, almost all grown, confessed their Savior, and others gave their hands, to help organize a church here. They have the frame up, and much of the lumber on the ground, to build a church, and we promised our Society would help finish it. Mr. Harris is a church- builder, and he is ably assisted by noble mission teach- ers, and the poor, but earnest, people. I was sorry I could not visit others of our workers: Miss Margaret Grier, at New Dale'; Miss Blanche Vick- ery, at Red Hill, and Messrs. De Vane and Jones in their fields. My time being limited, I started on my fifty miles' ride back to Asheville. I was glad of the privilege of making this visit, and helping these faithful, self-denying missionaries, and knowing those good people who need help so much, and are so grateful for it. I feel sure, if God's more fortunate people could see what I saw, they 24 GaIiAX Gatheebes, and would more gladly and generously help in this work. God's blessings have most signally followed it, and will abide on those who have so liberally helped it with their prayers and alms. May their numbers and blessings increase. Part of three days and nights on horseback, and be- hind Brother Coit's patient pony, brought us to Ashe- ville, and the faster "iron horse" brought us to our home. NORTH CAROLINA SCOTCH-IRISH. Your kind offer to let me put something in your paper is taken seriously, and here is something, — a ser- mon or a song. It may be that some tar-heel has torn himself loose from his turpentine-still and wandered as far as your paper travels. If so, he will be interested in this letter from home. On my way back to Ken- tucky, from Florida, I ventured through South Caro- Hna, to Fayetteville, N. C, to spend a short while with Brother McKelway, the fortunate husband of hand- some Ruth Smith, who needs no introduction to any student at HJampden-Sidney. It is much in his favor to say he comiCS as near being worthy of such a woman as men generally are of their wives. Brother McKelway is the live pastor of a Clan of Mac's from the purple heather of the Scotch Highlands. They landed here about 1770, and have spread abroad to the South and West (not much to the North) and laid the foundation of many noble characters in Church and State, Sketches of the Ameeican' Highlandees. 25 The land is about poor enough to produce good sec- ond-growth hickory, and first-class men and women. Their wealth is not sufficient to occupy their time or enlist their affections, so they turn to education and religion. Here Flora McDonald once lived, who defied kings and armies for her country and her religion. Here, too, the old Covenanters seceded from Great Britain and declared their Independence before the Colonial Con- gress, which met at Philadelphia. These are a great people, if you get them started right. You can neither stop them, or turn them, right or wrong. Fortunately, John Knox started them right, and they are still on that road. It was a privilege and pleasure to preach to such people. I had been used to it at home, so that it came somewhat natural to let them: have their own way. Brother McKelway, with a large faith and a diligent hand, had prepared the armory for a great congrega- tion and a rich blessing. I must confess, I was a little dubious when I thought of a week-day prayer-meeting at ii A. M. in a room with a thousand vacant seats, and a town of not more than six thousand people. But Brother McKelway's faith in his people, and in his God, was not misplaced. The big house soon got too small. There were as many as five hundred or more at the morning service and more than double that many at night. The business houses all closed during the hours of service, and the saloon-keepers all followed the noble ex- ample. This was done without any pressure or abuse. 26 Galax Gatheeees^ and They came to hear the Gospel, that once attracted "pub- licans and sinners." That Gospel has never lost its power, as was plainly to be seen at Fayetteville. It is still "the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth, to the Jew first and also to the Greek." Both helped in the meeting, and I believe that both were blessed. About one hundred persons publicly con- fessed the Christ during my stay of some ten days. Twenty-five of these made the noble confession the last night, when every available space in the big armory was crowded. I was sorry to be compelled to leave, to meet other engagements, and return to my own people. The meeting will be continued by Brother McKelway and Dr. Nash, of the Methodist Church, who, with his own and other brethren, rendered most faithful and val- uable assistance. I must make special mention of the splendid chorus of fifty voices (with piano and organ), which sang the Gospel so sweetly and effectively. It is worthy of remark that this grand service of song was led by a son of Abraham, and they were always in their places, morning and night. I venture to commend such fidelity to the tuneful sons and daughters of Asaph. Such choruses are a powerful auxiliary to the preaching. Indeed, it is preaching of the best sort. It atones for much bad preaching from the pulpit. I have tried it. I well remember my mother's songs long after the sermons are forgotten. But I must not impose on your generosity nor "wear my welcome out," on my first visit. Sketches of the Ameeicak Highlanders. 27 Thanking you for the privilege of a talk with your congregation, and hoping it may still increase, I am, Your brother and servant. DAN. McINTOSH. David once said he was "a wonder to many." Paul said, "by grace, I am what I am." Those who know Dan. Mcintosh have found that the wonders of redemption are still seen, and the miracles of grace have not yet ceased. Dan., of Kentucky, was born thirty-eight years ago, on the Troublesome River, in the darkest Cumberlands. There was not a railroad within a hundred miles, nor a church in nearly as many, nor a qualified preacher or teacher within several days' journey of his home on the Troublesome. Dan. was a grown man before he ever saw either. His father died when he was only two years old, and Dan. was left to an indulgent old grand- father, who left the boy to himself, generally. He went to a common mountain school for about two years, and learned to spell some easy words and read a little. School being irksome to his Highland blood, he finished it in two years, and entered the free life with the "boys" on the Troublesome. He was an apt student, and soon graduated in drinking, swearing, gambling, and shoot- ing, illicit-distilling, and fighting. His home in "Bloody Breathitt" was a congenial one. In twenty years over a hundred men had died violent deaths in that county. When twenty-three years old, Dan. concluded to marry, and found a loving and courageous mountain iSd (Jalax OatheseeSj ANO girl in Prudence Hogston, who took Dan. for "better or for worse," principally the latter. She proved a de- voted and faithful wife, and stuck to Dan. "through thick and thin," nursed his wounds and raised a family of bright children. Seeking new fields, Dan. moved over the mountain, from the Troublesome to the turbulent waters of the Quicksand River. Here he continued his reckless career until 1894. But God had "provided some better things" for Dan., doubtless, in answer to prayer. He never for- gets. In that year of grace. Rev. Dr. E. O. Guerrant pitched a Gospel tent on the Quicksand, at a place known as Rousseau, a store, post-of35ce and two other houses. There was not one church along the fifty miles of the Quicksand, but there were many hundreds of sinners for whom Christ died, and Dan. Mcintosh was among them. To this cotton tent, the untutored Highlanders came in crowds, on foot, over mountains and across streams, and sat from 9 A. M. until 4 P. M. to hear the Gospel. The "old, old story" was new to them. They sat on rough logs, boards and rocks. The singing was led by Miss Ellen Converse, of Louisville, and little Anne Guerrant, who came with her father, to play a little organ, and help in the service. More than fifty persons confessed Christ, and there was joy on the Quicksand. One day "Uncle Nimrod" Mcintosh, Dan's grandfather, an old Highlander, with his aged wife, came to beg Dr. Guerrant to let them join the church and be baptized. The Doctor told them he must preach ten days before he opened the doors of the church. Uncle Nim insisted, because he lived Sketches of the Amehicast Highlanders. 89 across the river, and they might not have another chance to join, for if it rained they could not get across. The Doctor consented to make an exception of Uncle Nim and Aunt Nancy. They came, and like Zaccheus "re- ceived Jesus joyfully" and took Him back to their little mountain home. Dan. saw all this, and heard it. A life of reckless sin was behind him, but God and heaven and salvation were before him. "And he arose and came to his Father." I need not say that our loving Father met, embraced, for- gave and saved him. He turned away from all his evil ways and served God as zealously as he had ever served Satan. His hand and heart were converted, a warm heart and a strong hand, and both and all he had were dedicated to His service, who loved and died for him. Always a "front man," he now became a front man in the Lord's work. He taught in the Sabbath school, conducted the prayer-meeting, travelled over his native mountains, and bore the "glad tidings" to his own per- ishing countrymen. And "all men did marvel," and many believed on Jesus for the saying of Dan. They knew he was a true and brave man, and all had respect for his honesty and sincerity, and he has won many souls to Christ by his "walk and conversation." He was elected an elder in the church, and for some years has been employed by the Inland Mission (the Society of Soul Winners) as an evangelist to his own people. The last time I remember seeing Dan. was at another meeting, conducted by Dr. Guerrant, far up on the Quicksand, in a churchless country, in a big tent. The morning service began about 9 o'clock. Not long aftfef that hour I saw Dan. and his devoted wife coming 30 Galax Gatherers, and up the hill to the meeting. They had walked about twelve long mountain miles to church, across the almost inaccessable Caney Mountain. This is the kind of religion Dan. got under the big tent on the Quicksand. He is still in service, trying to win souls to his blessed Master, who rescued him from sin and death. THE DEDICATION ON HADDIX FORK. It was a fearfully rainy, disagreeable day last week, when I started one hundred miles into the Cumberland Mountains to the dedication of the little church of Had- dix Fork. Noon Saturday found me at Elkatawa, where I unexpectedly met Miss Emma Withers, the accom- plished mission teacher at Canoe, on the Middle Fork. A rough road-wagon, drawn by two mules, pulled us several miles over, or rather through, a desperate road up Cane Creek to Haddix Fork. A large box of Bibles and Testaments, and clothing for children, and other needy ones, made the wagon heavier and harder to pull through deep mud-holes, worn by hauling ties and logs to the railroad. Evening brought us in sight of the little white chapel of Mrs. Andrews, in the valley of Haddix Fork, just wide enough for the creek and the chapel. It had been built by a noble woman in Chicago, whom none of us ever saw. The poor Highlanders, with infinite patience and perseverance, had cut down big trees and dragged them through mud and water to the little mountain saw-mill. They had split the boards on the mountain and carried them down on their shoul- o W Q H Sketches of the Ameeioan Highlaitoees. 31 ders, to cover the little church. By dint of hard work it was done at last, and Mrs. Andrews, the faithful teach- er, was happy and thankful, even with the headache. Two men were at work on a little cottage by the church, where she will live and teach the Highland lads and lassies the Gospel of Jesus. An open-hearted old mountaineer gave me a warm welcome and a little room to sleep in (he had but two). Mrs. Andrews was living in a room by the church, just wide enough to hold a little stove and a cot, without even room for the box or bed. If one wants to see how people lived in the "good old times," let him go to Haddix Fork. Those good people are our contemporaries of the sixteenth century. Their open-hearted, and free-handed, simple manner is charm- ing to one accustomied to the vanities and vexations of much fashionable society, full of hypocrisy and selfish- ness. Though there was no appointment for preaching that night, the little bell on the church, filled it by dark, with an earnest people, who listened with gladness to the old story of Jesus. Every one walked but the babies; and they are al- ways present in the mountains. Old "Uncle Stephen" Miller, who had lived there most of his life, said that was the first church bell he had ever heard, and it sum- moned the humble dwellers in these mountains to the first church ever built on Haddix Fork. It was of course a very unpretentious building (as it cost less than $300.00), but it was the only one they ever had, and a "thing of beauty" among the little cabins on Haddix Fork. Sunday morning rose in all its glory over these poor mountains, and God smiled away the clouds, which had 32 Galax Gatheeees^ and covered them for weeks, like a pall. By eight o'clock in the morning the Highlanders commenced coming, and by nine o'clock the house was crowded inside and out. Many of them had walked miles through mud and water, and across mountains. "Proctor Bill" and Lewis Hensley, the faithful native helpers, were there by 8 A. M., and at 9:15 I began the services of dedication, which, with its singing and preaching, continued until noon; and not a soul left the church or went to sleep. It was no trouble to preach there, for they were hungry for the Gospel ; and it is little trouble to feed a hungry man. Old Grandmother Miller said she "could have Ustened till dark, and it was the best day of her life," and she is seventy-two. On invitation, scores of them came up to confes.s Christ, in the simplicity of the faith that saves. It was not so hard to persuade them that God has a better country for them. It is a continual struggle for bread here. The steep mountain sides soon wash to the rock, and it is a battle with ground-squirrels and ground- hogs to save their corn, from the time it is planted to the day it is gathered. Evening found me back at Elka- tawa, several miles down Cane Creek. On the way, I turned up the Belcher's Fork to see Mrs. "Proctor Bill" Little, who had for five months been at death's door. I was glad to find her able to sit out on the porch of their little cabin, and see the sunshine on the hills, once more. She was very proud of their home and farm, the best they ever had, and it cost $100.00, most of it given by generous hands she never knew. Brother Evans, the earnest Welsh missionary at Elka- tawa, had gone to New York to see his dying mother. Sketches of the American Highlanders. 33 But the bell on Kessler Chapel filled the house at darlc with a congregation, all of whom walked, and most all of whom were young men and women. It was an un- usual scene. After preaching, I spent the night alone in the little manse nearby, and wished for the morning. At Oakdale, 6 A. M., Monday, Proctor Bill met me with a horse (five miles and two mountains from his home), and accompanied me to Puncheon Camp, the beautiful mountain stream which has neither church nor school-house, but scores of children. The Puncheon Campers promised everything I wanted, but money, to build them a church and college, the logs and land, and labor and children. They had cut the trees on the mountain and sawed 10,000 feet of lumber as a pledge of their sincerity. We accepted it, and by God's help, and yours, will have them a church and school before Santa Claus comes to glad- den your home. He has never been to theirs. A HIGHLAND WEDDING. Once when preaching on the Raccoon Fork of Goose Creek, where there never was a church, my host. Uncle Zachariah Smith, told me of two remarkable Highland lassies whom he termed the "boss gals" on the creek. Besides being good Christians, they were the best work- ers in the country. They could fell more trees, split more rails, hoe more corn, and raise more pumpkins than any women he knew. I concluded to hunt up these fine women, and get them to come to the little school-house where we were holding a meeting. Their 34 GAiiAS Gathekees, and log-cabin was so remote and secluded, I got lost in the wilderness trying to find it, and only succeeded by climbing a mountain and surveying the deep valleys below. Their home was a poor, little log-cabin, a big loom filling almost all the puncheon-shed in front of the. only room'. Their aged father and two boys made up the family. Over the home a mountain hung almost perpendicularly, but it was cleared and cultivated in. corn to the top. On inquiry, I learned that these two girls had borne their part, with the elder brother, in clearing off the forest of great oaks, and splitting the rails, and fencing and cultivating it with hoes. It was that, or no corn. I noticed that the elder brother seemed to be dressed up, having on a new pair of shoes and pants, on a week- day. I made no inquiry, as it was not my business. It is safer in this country to attend strictly to one's own business. After awhile, I saw a young man riding a mule over the top of a mountain, bearing aloft a flag. Knowing the martial spirit of the Highlanders, I in • quired if that was a declaration of war. Dave (the elder brother) said there was a wedding on Possum Creek, and the man was the brother of the bride coming after the groom. I then understood why Dave was dressed up, and inquired if he was the groom. He "admitted the soft impeachment," as the newspapers say, and eX'- plained that when a Highland lass was to be married, she sent her big brother after the groom to avoid any delay or disappointment. Dave appeared resigned, ani.l told me the name of the bride was Polly Cynthy Ann, and they would be married as soon as Uncle Zebedee, Sketches op the American Highlandees. 35 the preacher, could cross the river and get there, some- time that evening. Soon the big brother, fully armed, came prepared to bring the groom — dead or alive. Riding up to the rail-fence in front of the cabin, he inquired of Dave, if he was ready. He answered "yes," and donning his coat, mounted his mule and rode away. He forgot to insist on my going, as I had no horse to ride, otherwise I would have gone, as everybody is welcome in the High • lands. My good host. Uncle Zachariah, went, and returned to tell me that Polly Ann was the "boss gal" on Pos- sum Creek, saying, "Old Bill, her father, gave her a big wedding dinner, of pork and beans and sweet pota- toes, and pumpkin pies and sweet-cakes enough for everybody." "Soon after the wedding dinner, Polly Ann got her hoe and said, "Dave, Pop's craps is in the weeds, and this is no time to be idle; come ahead. Dave went ahead, and when I left Possum, Creek, Dave and Polly was knocking weeds high as their heads"; and Unch; Zachariah chuckled his entire satisfaction with such a "boss gal." A young friend, who was present, told me that when the old parson arrived, he found two couples to be married instead of one. The grooms got the old man in a fence-corner and argued for a reduction of the wedding fee. The venerable parson claimed the usual fee, which was one dollar, but the boys argued that as it was a wholesale business, he must come down. After much argument, the fee was finally settled at seventy- five cents apiece. I inquired of some of the wedding guests what pfresents the bride rfeceivfed. They wer« 36 Galax Gatheeehs, and astonished at my question, and replied that they had never heard of such a thing. I told them of our custom down in the "settlement," and the appropriateness of such a custom, and tried to set them an example. There were two other evangelists with me, and we searched our saddle-bags and found a spare Bible, a few white neckties, a paper of pins, a set of horn cuff-buttons and a few handkerchiefs. Armed with these wedding pres- ents, I found the bride mending Dave's old pantaloons, and overwhelmed her with embarrassment when I laid these gifts in her lap, with the compliments of the mis- sionaries and our prayers for long and happy and useful lives for her and Dave. FROM THE BIG BLACK MOUNTAIN. I left my home on Monday morning and came by rail to Cumberland Gap, where I spent the night. Tuesday morning I took the 5 A. M. train for the "Double Tun- nel," at Gilly, near Big Stone Gap, Virginia, and seventy miles above Cumberland Gap. Here at 9 A. M. I took a horse for Whitesburg, Letcher County, Kentucky. My travelling cotapanion and guide was "Billy" Vermilion, on a little mule. Our route lay up Callahan Fork of Powell River, some ten miles between the mountains, to the big coke-ovens and coal-mines at Pioneer, a new settlement at the foot of Big Black Mountain, the highest range of the Cum- berlands, which here divides Virginia from Kentucky. On our way up Caillahan, Billy showed me wh'ere a Sketches op the Ameeican Highlanders. 37 big rock had mashed three men and they had to "rake them up" when they got the rock off, by blasting it. I thought of that day when men will "call upon the rocks and mountains to fall upon them." We found the Big Black Mountain well named. It was both big and black. The forests at the foot were green with spring foliage, but on top the mountain was dark and naked as winter, though the soil is a rich, black loam, out of which grow giants of the forest — immense sugar trees, oak, walnut, poplar, chestnut, etc. We rested our exhausted horses on top of the big mountain and lay down on a carpet of beautiful blue grass, under the biggest sugar trees I ever saw. It looked strange to see such a growth on top of such a moun- tain, thousands of feet high. But "Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood Stand dressed in living green: So to the Jews old Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between." I ami not sure that Jordan was any harder road to travel than up the Big Black. It is probably the same road. Here lives old Dan. Richmond, a former slave of General Jonathan Richmond, near Big Stone Gap. He owns a big farm on top of this big mountain (said to be the best in the county), and here has raised blue grass, Indian corn and a decent family, in spite of the frost and the bears. Everywhere beautiful wild flowers redeemed the deso- 38 Galax Gatherers, and lation of the wilderness, recalling that beautiful verse in Gray's Elegy, t "Full many a gem of purest rays serene, The dark unf athomed caves of ocean bear ; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air." And I could not help thinking how many immortal flowers were left uncared for and unsaved in these wild waste mountains. I saw them everywhere. I met a bare-headed, bare-footed girl with a beautiful face and form, carrying a big bucket of water to an humble cabin home. These great mountains are filled with there immortelles, who must live somewhere, when their hoary hills have passed away. To save them, God gave His Son, and the Church should give her sons and her treasures. The trail led us down the Black Mountain, as nearly perpendicular as a man could walk or a mule could slide. At the foot, we struck the headwaters of the Poor Fork of Cumberland River. (These people have a genius for giving appropriate names.) Here we stopped to rest and feed our horses at Wils. Hawley's (or Sturgill's), who keeps his hogs belled and sells his corn at fifty cents a bushel. A man was plowing on the mountain, with a big pistol buckled around him. He was probably expecting a revenue officer. We explained that we were not in that "service." A few miles down one fork and up another brought us to the Cumberland Mountain (also called Pine and Laurel Mounatin). It ought to be called also Stone Sketches oe the Amesicak Highlanders. 39 Mountain, for it is a mass of stones from top to bottom. While not quite so big as Big Black, it is big enough, and bad to climb on account of the multitude of stones which fill the narrow gully that is called a road. I once rode a mule to the top of Pike's Peak, and I don't know which is the worst road. At the foot of Pine Mountain we came upon the Cowan branch of the Kentucky River, and crossing another mountain, we reached Whitesburg about sun- down, sore, tired and with the headache. I ami glad I am alive. I found Whitesburg but little changed since I was here in the army over thirty years ago. It is the same little village of one narrow, dusty street, some two dozen houses, and about a hundred people, in a narrow valley on the headwaters of the Kentucky River, within eight miles of the Virginia State line, which is on top of the Cumberland Mountains. Though it is more than fifty years old, it has no church, or academy, or tailor, saddler, shoemaker or blacksmith, one doctor, and no dentist. It seems to have grown only in years. I have found only two men here whom I knew in the army. The legions of brave men I once saw here have struck their tents and crossed over the river to rest. "Caudill's Army" and "Marshall's Men" have followed their captains to the great review of the "Grand Army" of the "Lord of Hosts." There was no place to preach but in a little, old court- house, which our Baptist and Methodist brethren have used for half a century. Brother Deggendorf, one of the Louisville Seminary students, and two Mormgn 40 Galax Gatherers, and Elders fromi Salt Lake City occupied the pulpit on Sun- day, one in the morning and two at night. We explained that we were not of the same faith. I preached on Tuesday night in the little court-house to a few dozen people. The people of this country are of the Hardshell Baptist persuasion, though some are getting softer than others. There is one small Southern Methodist Church in the county, and one lone Presby- terian member, up the river, five miles from town. We felt somewhat lonesome here. But the Lord had promised to go with us "to the end of the world," and as we had reached that place, we claimed that promise. On Wednesday morning I preached to two women, six children and eight men. It was hard work. Twice every day, since, we have been trying to pull up "the steepest place on the hill of Zion" I ever found. The congregations increased until the little court-house was uncomfortably filled. On Thursday the presiding elder and circuit rider of the Methodist Church arrived to hold their quarterly meeting. I knew nothing of their coming, nor they of mine. We found them both earnest, good men, and divided the time until the next Tuesday. On Sunday we cele- brated the Communion, and ten people sat down to the table, and two of them were from a distance. Only ten in a court-house full ! It was inexpressibly sad. I had never seen the like before. There are not a dozen members of all churches in this town. Our Methodist brother was a good singer, though some of his preaching was "advanced" beyond anything Sketches of the American Hiqhlandeks. 41 I have ever found in the Bible. It probably suited some "new women" and others with "new views." But I am a married man, and have learned to mod- estly differ from people that I love. So we differed, and loved, I hope. (I ought to say my wife is not a "new woman," though she is not old.) I preached twice daily to growing congregations until Thursday night. The Mormons returned the day the Methodist brother left. I did not divide the time with them, though they are great ladies' men. They listened and scattered their literature about town. So the tares and the wheat are still sown together and are growing together. Thank God for the wheat. Not much of it has been sown here. On Thursday morning I preached on the distinctive doctrines of the Presbyterian Church, including the mode of baptism, which is the distinguished and dis- tinguishing doctrine up here. The court-house was crowded and they listened an hour and a half and expressed themselves satisfied (prob- ably with the length), though some Baptists agreed with us and united with us. During the week, in spite of serious obstacles and in- terruptions, some eighteen persons publicly confessed their faith in Christ. I appointed Thursday evening as the time for the organization of the first Presbyterian Church of the county. Just before the hour, Dr. Witherspoon glad- ened our hearts by riding up. He had ridden across the mountains from Big Stone Gap. I always esteemed the doctor very highly; but the man who crosses the Big Black twice to preach the Gos- 43 Galax GatheeeeSj and pel here has my profoundest admiration. He has it and deserves it (though he went back another way). His coming was most providential, for my engage- ments at home compelled me to leave the next morn- ing. He will remain until next week. These hardy mountaineers are among the finest speci- mens of manhood, with strong minds and bodies; and only need conversion and culture to make them fine specimens of Christian activity. Long training in ex- treme views of God's sovereignty, and man's inability, has made them the hardest people to reach I have ever known. It is humanly impossible to reach the man, with both a hard heart and a hard head. But God can do it, and does it with plain preaching and earnest prayer. I found a fine lot of young people at Whitesburg; a number of these joined our church, and they are the hope of the future. Christian people can do no better with God's talents in their hands than to employ them in this great work of helping these people to a better life. THE IVY PATCH. It is said that Agassiz could give a full account of an unknown fish from a single scale, or paint the picture of the prehistoric Saurian from his track in the rock. Ivy Patch will answer for a scale or a track, from which the wise can estimate the character and size of the great work undertaken and accomplished by the Synod of Kentucky in its evangelistic work. Two years ago, two lone horsemen might have been Sketches oe the American Hiqhlandees. 43 seen riding, single-file, up a little mountain stream in the wilds of Eastern Kentucky. They were soaking wet from a big rain, from which they could find no pro- tection. They were hunting "the lost sheep" amid the fastness of the mlountains. There were few houses, and they were small and humble. There was not a church in the county, and never had been one. They were evangelists of the Synod of Kentucky. A few of the hardy mountaineers forded the streams and crossed the hills to the little house of clever Matt. Bowman, on the head of Twin Creek. God came, too, over the moun- tains of our sins, and filled the place with His presence and power. Many souls were there born into His king- dom, who will one day stand on Mt. Zion. The gener- ous mountaineer entertained nearly the whole congrega- tion for two days, with bed and board, for the pouring rain prevented them from going home. The old, log school-house across the mountain, on the head of Bear Creek, furnished the nearest and only place of public meeting. So with their little congregation, some few on horses, some on foot, and some carried in the arms, the evangelists crossed the mountain, through a primeval wilderness, to the settlement on Bear Creek. The old school-house gave them a generous welcome with wide- open doors and windows, and fire-place and chinks, and cracks. It didn't hold the congregation, but they could hear as well outside as inside. Indeed it was most outside. But God is no "respector of persons" nor houses. And God came, and made that old log school-house the very gate of heaven. The first sermon was made the power to reach sixteen 44 Galax Gatheeees^ and souls, among them the aged and young, who rejoiced in such a God and such a Gospel. They lifted up their voices and wept for joy. You would have thought it was a Methodist meeting instead of a Presbyterian. God gave them the victory, and they shouted at Bear Creek. God himself sometimes goes up with a shout, and the Lord will come down with it, Paul says. So "the daugh- ters of Jerusalem" shouted at Bear Creek, and the Pres- byterian evangelists did not confine their joys, nor hamper the simple manners of the children of the hills. Shouting is not religion, but the religion that does not feel like shouting sometimes, needs mending badly. It isn't the Bear Creek kind; nor the Pentecostal kind. When the harvest on Bear Creek was gathered, the evangelists took up their congregation and crossed over to the Ivy Patch, a companion of Bear Creek, which flows into the middle fork of the Kentucky River, in Lee County. Here there was not even a ventilated school- house they could use, so the widow Palmer opened her heart and her double log-cabin to the strange preachers and the whole congregation. The same God who found Paul, when he was lost in the stormy Adriatic, found His children on the Ivy Patch, and gave them many souls from the shipwreck of sin. Here the first Presbyterian Church in Lee County, Kentucky, was organized, with over forty members and three good officers. This is the beginning of the history of Ivy Patch. It will be finished in glory. This was two years ago. On the third Sabbath of July, 1 89 1, a large congregation of earnest worshippers, many of whom walked miles in the rain, assembled in a new church on the Twin Creek, just over the hill from Sketches of the Ameeican Highlanders. 45 Ivy Patch. This is the Ivy Patch Church, and was built here, because of the junction, of waters and ways. The evangelists were present, with other faithful ser- vants, who labored in word and doctrine. It was a day of rejoicing and thanksgiving. God had again visited his people. He is the God of the hills, as well as the valleys. The new church was dedicated free of debt, five m'ore officers elected and ordained, forty-eight new members added to the church, and God's name glorified, and His grace magnified. Two years ago, and there was not a single Presby- terian Church in Lee County; now there are three, and this is the first. Two years ago, and there was not a Presbyterian preacher in Lee County; there were five at the dedication of the Ivy Patch Church. Two years ago, there were not a dozen members of the Presby- terian Church in Lee County; now there are two regu- lar preachers, three churches organized, and some one hundred and twenty-five members. Rev. James M. Little is pastor of this church, a son of the soil, and every inch a man, and he is ably supported by as true and earnest a body of officers as rule any church in the land. In Rev. E. P. Mickel and Rev. Alex. Henry and Rev. A. P. Gregory, he has faithful and effective helpers in neighboring fields. This is a brief outline of the church organized on the Ivy Patch. It is only a sample. God has ever multiplied the tokens of his favor on this work. No other portion of His vineyard has enjoyfed such sigtial displays of His divine approbation. 46 Galax Gatherers^ and FROM HAZARD. A word from these "unexplored regions" may not be unwelcome nor unwholesome. It may serve the pur- pose of teaching one-half the world how the other half lives. On the twenty-third of August I left my home for a visit to this place, which is notorious in the bloody an- nals of the mountains, as the capital of Perry County, and the seat of the desperate French-Eversole war. The Kentucky Union Railroad brought me to Jack- son, the county seat of Breathitt County, one hundred miles southeast of Lexington. But a few years ago it took three days' hard riding to make this trip over the mountains. Jackson is a demonstraton of the Gospel. No infidel can answer her argument. When I first visited the place, some few years ago, there was not a church in the town or county. It was the scene of violence, and profanity, and drunkenness, and murder. An army of soldiers could not keep the peace. To-day there is not a more orderly, peaceable, prosperous town in the State. The Gospel did it. Now they have good churches, good preachers, teachers, homes, business houses, and a pros- perous college, with seven teachers. But I must hasten on to Hazard. After one brief night at the new, handsome "Riverside Hotel," at Jack- son (that hotel followed the Gospel), a clever brother furnished me a saddle-horse for the long overland jour- ney. I preferred a better way, but was glad not to have to walk. Thfe distance to Hazard is thirty-ei'ght miles, Sketches of the Ameeioan Highlanders. 47 mountain miles. There is a big difference between mountain miles and ordinary miles, and all the differ- ence is in favor of the mountain kind. I started at 6 A. M., for I had some experience in their length. Ten miles' ride up the beautiful Ken- tucky River, between her palisades of paw-paws, and her colonnades of wild cucumber or wahoos, under the cool shadow of the mountains, was a delight. I hardly saw a soul, save a few bare-footed, bare- headed children going to school with dinner baskets (but no books), filled with hard apples and "cow- cumbers," as they called them. They were bright and happy, and not bothered with "much learning." Ten miles above Jackson, I came to the mouth of Troublesome, a large tributary of the river. Up Trouble- some one mile, my road turned up the Lost Creek, which is followed with much tribulation for nineteen miles. I could not but think that all Lost creeks and roads emptied into Troublesome. This is not the only time I got to Troublesome by the Lost Creek route. I stopped at the post-office, at the mouth of Lost Creek, to write a postal-card home, to cheer them with the news of my safe arrival on Troublesome. There I met a brave Virginia Methodist preacher, Mr. McClure, who, on the Saturday before, preached in 'Squire Friley's blacksmith-shop and four souls received Christ. I thought that shop was doing better service than some big, fine churches I know. Just as I entered the mouth of Lost Creek, I met an old friend. Judge Strong, who knew me when a youth in the army, and greeted me with the remark that he "had not seen me since we slept on a rail." Such a bed ^g Galax Gatheeees, and is apt to make an impression on a man. The Judge said, "Troublesome was fifty-two miles long, and Lost Creek nineteen, and they are full of sinners to the head, and no church on either." Let the Blue Grass people "look on this picture, then on that." Several miles up the Lost Creek, I stopped at a man's house to get my horse fed and a "bite" for my- self. These mountain people are hospitable to a fault, and Gran. Noble was no exception. Fifteen cents was all he would take for man and beast, and a big musk- melon thrown in. He and Mrs. Noble had eleven chil- dren, most of them grown, all well and hearty, and never had a doctor. This is a good place for health. Here I met Mr. Nipper, generally called Mr. Napper, but he said his name was Napier. See how we get our names. Adam would not know his children, by name. I travelled with Mr. Nipper-Napper, up to the mouth of Ten Mile Creek, and all the rest of my long journey alone, with God and the mountains. Glorious company ! We would all be better if we had such company oftener. What more elevating, ennobling, purifying, than the great mountains. And God! His company makes Heaven. That was a glorious ride in such company. The shadows of the great mountains were falling over the valleys, when I crossed the mountain from Lost Creek to Lot's Creek, and still Hazard was miles away. Inquiries from the natives seemed to indicate that Hazard was travelling about as fast as I was. One bright youth, of some sixteen summers, gave me com- fort by assuring me that Hazard was a "right smart piece off." I found his answer correct, as I rode into Sketches of the American Highlanders. 49 the little mountain town at 7 P. M., about as weary as my horse. Hazard's size is entirely out of proportion to its repu- tation. No town of its size in the State has such a name. It is the synonym of violence and bloodshed. It is the seat of the French- Eversole war, in which some seventeen men were killed, and for four years all law was abolished. And, although the only town in Perry County, and the county seat, it consists of only a court- house, jail, four stores and seventeen families. It lies in a narrow valley, surrounded by mountains, on the north fork of the Kentucky River. There is no church or school-house here, and never was. War was inevitable. Here I am trying to preach the Gospel in the court-house, and teach them a better way. Pray for us. FROM THE TROUBLESOME. I am so far out of the world, I have never heard whether my former letter reached you (or the public) or not, but I will presume on your goodness and give you another turn. I am glad to have more and better news than I had before. On my arrival at Hazard, I soon found the only Presbyterian in the county, and felt a little more at home. I also soon found two of our foreign mission- aries. Brothers Mickel and Mott. Sawyers. (The natives call us all "foreigners.") Brother Mickel was teaching the County Teacher's Institute, and preaching between times. Brother Sawyers had spent most of the summer 50 Galax Gatherebs, and here in the service of our Evangelistic Committee. He is the right man in the right place — earnest, energetic, sensible, devoted, and not afraid of things, and knows everybody by name and where they live. Though very weary after my long ride from Jackson, I preached that night in the court-house. There was nowhere else to preach, for though the town and county are some seventy years old, there is neither church nor school-house here and never was. No wonder it has such a bloody record of seven murders in one year and seventeen in four years, and forty-six orphan children as the result of "the war" between the factions. The congregation was not very large, for the town has only some seventeen families, and somie of them do not go to church, and some are afraid to go at night. The prospect was about as cheerless, I thought, as Noah's experience before the flood. And when Brother Mickel left us on Friday, only hope remained, and that a faint one. People unacquainted with such work have no conception of its difi&culties. The people generally have no use for any religion, and less for our kind. But God's word "stands sure," and we preached and pleaded His promises. He pitied and forgave our un- belief, and blessed His word. In one week we succeeded in organizing a Presbyterian Church of thirty-eight members, with three elders and one deacon, and raised a subscription of over six hundred dollars to build a church. To God be all the glory. It was manifestly His work. Judge Combs, the leading citizen and principal owner of the town and country, became a member on profes- sion, and was made an elder. Dr. William T. Wilson, Sketches os the Amerioak Highlanders. 51 the only original Presbyterian, was made another, and Jere Mcintosh the third. John B. Eversole, whose father, a leading lawyer, was murdered during "the! war," was made a deacon. On Thursday morning I crossed the mountain beyond the river to Big Creek, where I preached until Satur- day night, in an open log school-house to good congre- gations. Brother Sawyers was always present, faithfully working in the vineyard. Many difficulties had to be overcome or submitted to, no one to help us, few seats except rough rails, lamps without chimneys, and few of them, primeval singing, and a small choir with two books. But God prefers to conquer by few, and gave them the victory. Some twenty-three confessed Christ, and most of them joined the Presbyterian Church and received baptism, giving our church at Hazard some sixty members. We could have organized a church on Big Creek, but thought best to defer it. We met some fine people there, and their hospitality received another illustration. My good host had only one bed-room, besides the kitchen, for his family and company, and he turned none away, until there were seven of us in one little room and no ventilation. On Monday I left Big Creek for the Troublesome, a large tributary of the Kentucky River. Brother Saw- yers preceded me and preached there Sunday night. I passed through Hazard and was glad to find our people in earnest about beginning their church. Judge Combs gave the nicest site in town, overlooking the valley and the village. They expect to begin to build this week. The ladies were at work to raise money for 53 Galax Gatherers, and the organ. There is only one in this county. Twelve more mountain miles, through a pouring rain, brought me to the waters of the Troublesome. The so-called road from the head of Lot's Creek to the mouth of Pigeon Roost, on Troublesome, is as bad as I ever remember, and I have been travelling the road to Jordan a good while. The ascent to the summit of Pike's Peak is better, to my personal knowledge. To make matters worse, my faithful horse lost a shoe, and the only man near the road could not shoe a horse. He only shod oxen. Take the other road when you come this way. This route is too rough and too lonesome. For miles I saw no house, nor human being; even the birds had fled the desolation and left the wilderness voice- less. To a man who loves company, it was awful. The only thing I heard in miles was the rattle of a cow-bell; the only thing I saw was a lonesome log- cabin, where the kitchen and dining-room, family-room, bed-chamber, library and parlor, were all in one room, and that a little one. A score of bare-headed, bare-footed children coming from school announced the approach of civilization, and exhibited the jewels of the Octavias of the hills. Their hills may be barren, but their homes are not. The birds may have flown, but the children are left. This poor and sparsely-settled county, where the people can only live along narrow valleys, has forty- seven school districts in it, and often one hundred chil- dren in a district. Here is the necessity and oppor- tunity of the church and the Gospel. This whole country is practically without either. No Sketches of the Ameeican Hiqhlahtdees. 53 churches or Sabbath schools, no competent preachers, for this great region full of souls. It made my heart sick to behold them now, and con- template them in the future, when their sorrowful years will outnumber the leaves in their vast unbroken forests. Let the people of our country be warned of their danger and admonished of their duty to these perishing people. The curse of poverty and the desolation of sin are over them all. Without our help, they must perish. The evening brought me to the waters of the Trouble- some. This is a large stream, over fifty miles in length, and one of the largest tributaries of the upper Ken- tucky River. It passes through Knott, Perry and Breathitt Counties. In all its long course there is only one (unfinished) church, and that is at Hindman, the county seat of Knott County. I had not passed this way since a youth, when I fol- lowed the bold rider, John Morgan. What memories crowded upon my heart as I thought upon those van- ished years ! How changed the times, and men and me ! Following Morgan then ; following Christ now ! A sol- dier of the Confederacy then ; a soldier of the Cross now ! Why should I complain of the march, bivouac, and the privations and the battle now, and endure it all so cheer- fully then. These were lessons from real life. And then how dif- ferent the cause; how glorious the conflict; how certain the victory now! A few more days on Troublesome, and endless years in Paradise! 54 Galax GatheeeeSj and A LITTLE TRIP UP THE BIG SANDY. As our Field Secretary, Mr. Murdoch, was fully occu- pied at our new college in the Cumberlands, I thought some one ought to visit our missions on the Big Sandy River, so I concluded to go myself. A hundred miles brought me to Catlettsburg, at the mouth of the river. I was glad to find Brother Boggs building a new home, more in proportion to his size and dignity and worth. I need not say it will be a big house. The evening train on the Chattaroi road took me to its terminus, at White House, fifty-four miles up the river. The lower Sandy Valley is beautiful, with its rolling green hills and picturesque homes. A lovely little white chapel was honored with the name of Bishop Kava- naugh, my father's friend and mine, "who being dead, yet speaketh." At the mouth of the Tug Fork of the Big Sandy we passed Louisa, a nice town in a green valley. It was miy first visit to Louisa, though once before I started to go to see her with a company of friends in 1863, but she had more company who objected, and we deferred our call until later. About 10 o'clock the next morning Brother Howes, our missionary, came for me in a buggy. We crossed the river where Mr. Dollarhide and his friend lost their lives in a house-boat saloon. They were killed by some other friends who drank too much of Dollarhide's whis- key, it is said. We got our dinner at a wayside hotel, Sketches of the American Highlanders. 55 and drove ten miles up the river over hills and through clouds of dust to Paintsville, on the Big Paint, the capi- tal of Johnson County. The prospect of the railroad had infused new life and noise into the quiet mountain village, and lots had gone up to the city prices. We had only time to call on Brother West, of the M. E. Church, and passed on up the Paint and Burnette's Fork to Oil Spring, nine miles farther, over a rough mountain road. I saw but one thing on the long way worthy of mention. On a moun- tain brow I noticed a beautiful stone mauspleum. It was so unique and unusvial, I stopped to see its builder, the aged Charles Green Rule, who took five hundred hard-earned dollars to honor the memory of his faithful wife. For fifty years or m;ore, she had lovingly and patiently filled her humble station as wife and mother, and this gentle old man did all he could to show his appreciation of her worth. I honor him for it. Night brought us to the humble three-room cottage of Mr. Howes, and I needed no opiate to help me sleep that night. The old camp ground had been abandoned, but a large school-house accommodated a good congre- gation of the attentive mountaineers. I preached twice on the Sabbath to large crowds, in spite of a big "foot-washing" in the neighborhood. After our services a large number confessed Christ. Sunday night I returned to the Oil Spring, where there are a few houses, but no oil spring. Names are sometimes as deceiving as some people, and that suggests that Henry Howes, the father of our missionary, a venerable and intelligent old man, told me his namie was originally 56 Galax Gathekees^ and Howe, but how Howe becames Howes he did not know. So Napier has become ISFapper and Nipper up here. On Sunday I preached morning and evening at Oil Spring to fine congregations, largely of young people. Rev. Messrs. Williams and Moore, of Salyersville, came over (eight miles) to the services, and gave us valuable assistance. They need great help in this large field. An aged native told me that Paint Creek, which is some- times a river, fifty miles long, is almost destitute of in- telligent Gospel preaching. There are two or three churches on its long course, belonging to brethren who oppose Sunday schools and missions and education, in spite of all Gospel teaching and God's commandments. To escape this suicidal policy, some of the people have organized a "Come-out Society" as a protest, and the only church on Upper Big Paint is "Jack's church," with no other name or connection. Jack built it and runs it, I trust, for the glory of God and the salvation of his neighbors. The people through all this back country are generally very poor, unable to provide educated preachers or teach- ers. As a general thing, they are not so lawless and vio- lent as further back in the Cumberlands, but they are sadly in need of help. It is next to impossible to get any one to conduct a Sabbath school or teach the scores of bright mountain boys and girls. If ever their ancestors possessed it, it is a "lost art" among their children. It is pitiful to see thousands of these strong, bright, resolute mountain children grow up with little or no training to make them valuable Christian men and wornen, Unless they get (1< cii Sketches of the American Highlanders. 57 help from beyond their mountains, generations of them will perish in their sins. Who is responsible? We are trying, with the help of God and some good people, to supply this crying need, and send the IS: of Life to those who are starving at our doors. ONE WOMAN. WHAT CAN SHE DO? I..isten, and I will answer by telling you what one woman did. She is not young, nor an active woman either, nor rich, nor very attractive in person, but she is more, as we shall see. Last summer she determined to do something for the helpless in our own land and while she could neither preach, nor sing, nor sew, nor play an organ, she thought she could tell the 'old, old story, of Jesus and His love." Anyhow, she determined to try. She selected a place in the mountains, without a church or Sabbath school or preacher. It was far from any of these, and over twenty miles from the nearest town or doctor. To this destitute region she went, in a heavy road-wagon, because she couldn't ride horse- back ; and she went to stay, and took her little baggage with her. The long mountain road was so rough she had to walk much of the way. At one place, the wagon had to be let down with ropes. Here she found a home, in a little house among poor, but clever, people. She opened her Sabbath school and taught all the children and grown people, too, who came 58 Galax Gatheeees, and in scores, walking to hear the Gospel story from loving lips. She had no conveyance, so had to walk from house to house, and to the school-house, often through mud and water. Her Sabbath school ran all the week. When the weather got so cold she could no longer use the little public school-house, she opened the school and church in her one little room. Here, all through the winter, she taught all who came, the "sweet old story," and sowed the seed of eternal life in many hungry hearts, of old and young. Experience having taught her some simple remedies for the sick, she became the substitute for the doctor, and relieved many a suffering body, a.s well as heart, where there was neither doctor nor preacher. Once her room was a refuge for a poor girl whose drunken husband wanted to kill her. Another time it was an asylum for a poor girl whose reason had fled. Again, it was the death-room of a little babe, whose life, she alone, watched depart to its Savior's arms. The exposure and anxiety put her in bed, twenty-rfive miles from a doctor, or a pound of tea or coffee, or sugar, or a pint of coal-oil, and an impassable road between. The winter was most rigorous, even for the moun- taineers, and much more so for her, after many years' residence in the far South. But God brought her safely through it all, with many tokens of His love and care. The opening spring-time and glorious summer gave her enlarged opportunities, and with the love of all those poor, but grateful, people, she is now busily trying to win souls for the Master, and "lay up treasures in heaven." God only knows through what privations and hard- Sketches of the Amekioan Highlandees. 59 ships she has passed, and God alone can adequately re- ward her. She has won a place among the constella- tions of heaven. Nor is she alone. The Society of Soul Winners (which sent her and supports her) has twenty-five consecrated women at work in the mountains of North Carolina and Kentucky. They are only women, some of them timid, delicate women, but they have the "Omnipotent power of weak- ness" to sustain them. God is with them and that makes them strong. Have you a part in this blessed work? Remember Paul said: "I entreat thee, also, to help those women which labored with me in the Gospel." A LITTLE TRIP TO TURKEY CREEK. Two young women from the far West (Misses Cun- ningham and Foster, from Kansas and Iowa) had left their homes and friends and gone, at the Master's com- mand, far up in the Cumberlands. Strangers in a strange land, they went to lead the little Highland children to a happier life, and to help those who had no better help- ers. There were three public schools on Turkey Creek, in Bloody Breathitt, but neither church nor Sabbath school. Leaving Brother W. S. Trimble, of Virginia, at Puncheon Camp, I crossed the Kentucky River and rode up the Turkey Creek until dark, before I found the home of the strange teachers. They were hidden away, between two big mountains, in a home where only one lone woman and two girls were keeping house. But it 60 Galax Gatheeehs, and was a hospitable and comfortable home, and they were welcome and happy. From the grand prairies of their sunset homes to these wild and rugged mountains was a vast change; but its very contrast was an inspiration, and the gorgeous foliage of the Highlands surpassed anything on their Western plains. They were well and contented, and busy in the vine- yard, where they were sadly needed. Two generous Highlanders had offered to give them a beautiful situation for their mission-house and school, and one gave them half of his store-house, worth one hundred dollars, towards building a chapel. The next morning, bright and early, we started to select the place for their future home. They out-walked my horse, but they had a better path than I had — down a rocky creek. But they were walkers, anyway. The natives said they were the "walkinest women on Turkey Creek." Ten miles is moderate exercise for them, and they took sun- shine into scores of Highland homes, as they walked. But you remember that Jesus "walked in Galilee," and doubtless walked with them, in this other Galilee. We found the place, where over one hundred children were in one school, and hundreds more not very far away. Leaving one of them to sweep the school-house, I took the other behind me and rode down the creek to see Mr. Griffith, who gave half the store. Four boys and one pretty, sunny-haired girl furnished this home better than some millionaires, and the mother herself looked like a girl. (She was married at fourteen.) An engagement at Shoulder Blade compelled me to leave Turkey Creek, so bidding all good-bye, I crossed Sketches of the Ameeioan Highlanders. 61 the mountains back to the river, at the mouth of Old Buck Creek. On the mountain I met a tall, old High- lander, walking in his sock-feet, and carrying his shoes in his hand. From the top of the mountain the view of the river beggars description. God had painted ten thousand trees in crimson and purple and gold, and the beautiful mountains looked like giant bouquets aflame. It was worth the labor and fatigue to behold such a display of God's infinite wisdom and love and power. I pity those who never had a view of such a glorious panorama of heaven and earth. Crossing the river, I reached Shoulder Blade by 9 A. M. Brother Trimble came at 10, and preached a fine sermon to a good congregation, for Saturday. He never had more respectful, or attentive, listeners. We were glad to meet here three of our faithful lady mission teachers, who had crossed the mountains to hear the sermon — Mrs. Andrews, from Haddix Fork, and Misses Houston and Sights, from Puncheon Camp. I was glad to find the new mission-house here completed and lumber on the ground to finish the chapel and school building, all given by a generous lady in Maine. The new college on Puncheon Camp is covered (with twenty thousand shingles), a fine bell surmounting it, and the interior being rapidly finished. It will accom- modate three hundred or more of the Highland lads and lassies, when completed. Evening found Brother Trimble and me six miles up the beautiful river, at Canoe. We received a hearty welcome by our teachers there, Misses Annie Peek and Nannie Brown, tw'o splendid women from North Caro- 62 Galax Gathekees, akd lina. All were delighted over the prospect of a fine school here, in a large new house, presented to us by a noble woman in Atlanta. In spite of a funeral nearby. Brother Trimble had a fine congregation in our church at lo A. M. (Nothing can compete with funerals in the mountains, which al- ways occur at this season.) Having an appointment at Elkatawa, I had to leave Brother Trimble at Canoe, and ride and walk ten miles over the mountains and down Cane Creek by dark. Between the rain above and the creek below, I got pretty wet, but Brother Evans had a fire in his kitchen stove at our mission-house. So I soon dried out and preached in the Kessler Chapel to a fine congregation, who walked through a pouring rain and pitch darkness, from far and near. Such people, I hope, will occupy front seats in heaven. Have you an interest in this effort to help them. A VISIT TO RAVEN ROOST. One of our faithful missionaries had been laboring for more than a year in a difficult and discouraging field, and I had never been able to visit him, until lately. After a journey of a hundred miles, I found him, at nightfall, in a little mountain home among his grateful parishioners. Edwin Preston was reared in a very different home in a beautiful city, but love of Christ and His lost chil- dren constrained him to give up all things for this hard life and service. His first mission was among the Mor- mons of Utah, then he came to the mountains of Ken- Sketches of the Ameeioan Highlanders. 63 tucky. Since he left his mother's home, she has gone to her heavenly mansion, leaving, to bless the world, three sons to preach the gospel and one daughter to carry it to the heathen beyond the seas. What a diadem will grace that mother's brow in heaven! A beautiful Sabbath climbed the mountains of Breath- itt and lighted up the deep valleys of the Quicksand River. For quiet and comfort, Mr. Preston had built himself a little house on the top of the mountain, five hundred feet high, and called it Raven Roost. I do not see how he ever got the planks up there, but it required only a few, as it had only one little room, and no ceiling, finishing or furnishing, and cost only $15.00. He made his chair and bedstead of little saplings which grew on the mountain. It was a very little house, but big enough for God and him, and no more is needed to be happy. I am not as young as Mr. Preston, and I didn't see how I could ever get up that mountain, but I determined to see Raven Roost, and I went. It repaid the labor to reach it. The world was beneath us, and only God and the stars above; or only the stars, for God was there, on that "Mount of Privilege." Below, on every side, was a world of sin and sorrow and suffering. Around were only God and His birds and flowers and forests. It was good to be there. But the sun was climbing over the mountains, and a congregation gathering up the Quick- sand at the Hounshell Mission, so, reluctantly, we had to come down into the world again, and try and per- suade its sorrowful people to seek a better home in heaven. It was some three miles up the little crystal river to 64 Galax Gathebees, and the school-house. There is no church in that part of the country, and only one on the river, in forty miles. Mr. Preston "cut across" the mountains on foot and I rode around them, up the river. At lo A. M. the large school-house was crowded with young and old, nearly every one of whom walked. Over fifty of them were Sunday school children, the pupils of a noble Christian lady who had just swapped Washington City for the Quicksand, and was delighted with the trade. She had gained much more than she HaS lost — the priceless joy of self-denying service for Him who had denied Himself for her. After the Sabbath school exercises and a good talk by Mr. Preston, I tried to tell them the "old, old story" — old to the world, but new to many of them. They lis- tened with deep interest, in spite of uncomfortable seats and sundry interruptions. (The pretty babies and the boys' dogs will insist on coming to Sunday school.) At the close of the service nearly every one in the house came forward to express his love for God and faith in Christ as a Savior. Doubtless there was joy in heaven that day, as well as in Hounshell School-house on the Quicksand. These are the children of the same loving Savior who once walked on the mountains of Galilee, and still loves to walk with His humblest servants. After the morning service, "Aunt Polly Ann" gave us a good dinner, and put heaven deeper in her debt. This aged Highland mother and grandmother opened her heart and home to the strange teacher from Washingfton City, and gave her the best things in both. Heaven will repay her gloriously, when He says, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, SKETCaES OP THE AMERICAN HIGHLANDERS. 6S ye have done it unto me. Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foun- dation of the world." But the sun and work on Quicksand do not v/ait; so we had to follow Mr. Preston four miles down the "Dei u- tiful river to another school-house, where he has another mission. After the Sabbath school, I preached again to a full house and many more expressed their trust in Jesus, who asks no more to "save a poor sinner." It was late and hot, but we had to cross a mountain to Jackson before night, so we had to say good-bye to Raven Roost and its master and builder. But we had the joy of knowing that the Master and Builder of heaven and earth will never leave Raven Roost nor the humblest home and toiler on the Quicksand. A VISIT TO SHOULDER BLADE. The old Highland settlers certainly had a genius for queer names. Shoulder Blade is the name they gave to a beautiful stream between steep mountains on the upper Kentucky River. Just above Shoulder Blade is Old Buck Creek, and just below is Puncheon Camp, and no one knows how or when they ever got these names. Like those little streams, they "go on forever." How important are the little things of life. They still go on. Well, I had never had time to visit Shoulder Blade, though often invited. They had no church, nor Sab- bath school, nor prayer-meeting, and wanted them all. We had sent a consecrated lady there to teach the chil- 66 QaLAX QATteEEES^ AND dren and conduct the Sabbath schools, and she met a warm welcome from the untutored Highlanders, the most hospitable of all people. I left home on the 6:45 A. M. train. After a brief visit to the new mission teachers at Athol (Miss Reeves and Miss Young), from New Jersey, I reached Elka- tawa late in the evening. There I met Mr. Granville Hounshell, who had come from the Shoulder Blade to take me to his home. Mr. Morton, our missionary, at Elkatawa, would not let us go until we saw how nice a supper his young Georgia bride could prepare. It was fit for a king, though we were only poor wayfarers. But we had royal appetites. At 7 P. M. we started over the mountains, six miles to the Shoulder Blade. Mr. Hounshell was good enough to let me ride the best saddle-horse (which was a mule). It was dark before we reached the mud-tunnel, a deep, gloomy gorge at the foot of the mountain, and it was edti.ne when we reached Mr. Hounshell's hospitable home ; but every soul was sitting up, on the porch, wait- ing for us, even the babies. The Sabbath sun rose behind the clouds, which soon began to pour water down the valleys, and on the thirsty patches of corn and beans. We were up early, and had breakfast and visitors before 6 o'clock. A rift in the clouds at 10 A. M. let a crowd fill the school-house, who walked there through the mud and rain to hear the Gos- pel. I preached my best, and was sorry it was not better. But God honored His Word, and many con- fessed their Savior, some for the first time. At 2 P. M. the house was filled again, though a big rain and thunder-storm prevailed most of the evening. Sketches of the Amehioan Highlanders. 67 Lewis Hensley and William Littie, two of our native evangelists, spoke earnestly to their neighbors about the great salvation for the poor, as well as the rich. I wish all men were as earnest as these humble heralds of the hills, and as eloquent. I "added a word," and left Mrs. Andrews to teach the Sunday school, which included about all of the congregation. But before I left they promised to give the prettiest site on the Shoulder Blade for a church, and cut and saw the logs and put them on the ground and build a church, if we would give them the doors and windows and nails, and send them a man to show them how to build the house. Night found me back at Elkatawa, at hospitable Brother Morton's new and comfortable manse, the gift of a wise and liberal Christian I never saw. I might add that he gave the church also. Such people are as rare as they are blessed. An early train took me down to Glencairn the next morning, where I stopped to see how Miss Kathleen Askew, from Atlanta, was doing. She had exchanged a city school for the little Highland Mission, in the deep canyon at Glencairn. Of course, she was busy and happy, though a stranger in this land. He promised to be with her until the end of the world, and He was there. The bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked little Highlanders were happy to have such a teacher, and showed how even they could learn, if they had a chance. One wee little lassie had learned a page in the Catechism every day the past wefek. In spelling and reading and singing they sboiWed reniarkiable aptitude. They had no desks to 68 Galax Gatheeees, and cipher on, so they all got down on their knees and ciphered on the benches. There is nothing too hard for genius to solve, and Homer and Paul and Grover, with their sisters, were there on their knees "working sums." At half-past one Monday afternoon I preached to the children and a few grown people who left the fields to listen to the "old, old story." They were all very nice and proper, and fairly well clothed, though the children were all barefooted but one, and all had hats but one. There was not a homely child in the school, and several of them were beautiful. All are beautiful to God. Evening brought me to the Natural Bridge, where I took the train for my home. On the train I met the venerable Dr. Saunders, our missionary at Buckhorn, going to Danville and Louisville on business. He is now past seventy, and entirely blind, yet he preached at Crockettsville yesterday, and rode twenty miles through the mountains, on a led-horse, and expects to do the samie on next Saturday, and preach next Sunday. How such a man shames the rest of us. But there are few such men left. May God multiply their number. The church and the world need them. Have you a part in this blessed work of giving the gospel to our own long-neglected countrymen? If not, why not? Your help is needed, both for you and them. "PROCTOR BILL." Those familiar with the history of Jere McCauley will not be surprised at this story of Proctor Bill. In many respects they are very similar. Sketches of the Ameeioan Hiqhlandees. 69 Some years ago I had an appointment to preach in a little mountain school-house on the Ivy Patch Creek, in Lee County, Kentucky. On going there I found that Rev. William Little, alias "Proctor Bill," had an appoint- ment also for the same time. I had never met him, and knew nothing of his character. He was a typical Highlander, big-boned, erect, reso- lute in word and action, and with deep-set, piercing eyes which showed a dauntless spirit. I insisted on his preaching, but he modestly and firmly declined, saying he was but an ignorant mountain man, and would not preach where there were others to do it. I preached a short sermon, and then asked him and Mr. Griffiths, our young mission teacher, to speak a word to the children. To this modest request he yielded a reluctant assent. I shall never forget his manner, or his matter. Both were peculiar and unique. He spoke with tremendous earnestness and energy. He was Boanerges, in action. No one could doubt his sincerity, nor his courage, yet his language was as simple as a child's, for he knew no other, being an unlearned man. It was the speech of the common people, who heard Jesus gladly. It was largely the language of the Bible. It was in the summer-time, but he had on a suit of winter clothes, and the effort of speaking covered him with perspiration. He was profoundly moved, and he moved the people as few college men could have done. A!s to the matter of his discourse, I was as much sur- prised. It was largely Scriptural and entirely evangeli- cal. His quotations were apt and correct, and the won- der grew when I learned how and where he was reared. 70 Galax Gatheebiib, and I shall never forget his introduction. As near as I can recollect it, he said: "My friends, you know me. I was born and bred in this country. On this very spot where this school-house stands I once sold and drank whiskey. Left an orphan by a good father, I had no one to teach me to do right. My mother was a godless woman. I never heard her pray in my life. When a boy, I tried to kill Bob Hill for striking a smaller boy. As I grew older and larger I grew more wicked and desperate. In drinking, gambling and fighting I was a leader. Just over this hill I tried to kill a man for an insult. I was tried and sent to the penitentiary for three years. I had never learned to read, and I never owned a Bible. I neither feared God nor regarded man. "In the penitentiary, I was compelled to attend the prison worship on the Sabbath day. A Mr. Morrison preached, and God sent his words to my heart. I felt I was a lost sinner, and ior twelve days I could neither eat nor sleep. I lay in my cell, the most miserable of men, and cried to God for pardon. Blessed be His name, He heard my cry and pardoned my sins and saved my soul. I rose up a new man, and determined to read God's Word. I was then thirty-nine years old, but, by hard work, I learned to read, and determined to tell others what he had done for my soul. This is why I am here to-day." This is only a bare outline of what he said. It was a remarkable discourse and produced a pro- found impression. Men knew he was honest and earnest, and not afraid to say what he believed. Since the day he left the penitentiary, he has been trying to preach the Sketches of the Amekioan Highlandees. 71 Gospel in the very country which knew his sin and shame. Men hear him and wonder at the wonderful change. Many have been led to Christ through his ministry. Having no horse, he walks across the mountains to his appointments. Having no money, he has no books nor clerical clothes. His earthly possessions consist of a wife and four little girls and a boy, on a rented moun- tain farm. This he works through the week and walks to his appointments on Sundays, sometimes fifteen miles. To enable him to give more time to his work, and to help him clothe his wife and children, we have, for a few years, been paying him a little salary — a few dollars a month. It is the first he ever received. Last Saturday he came to Glen Athol for me to preach for him at the Middle Fork Church, where he and Mr. Boyd were holding a meeting. I gladly went and found a multitude of Highlanders assembled, almost all of whom had walked for miles over the mountains. He had begun the service half an hour before I could reach the church, at lo o'clock in the morning, on a half- broken mule. For an hour and a half the crowded church listened with profound interest. "Proctor Bill" had gathered them before, and led the singing. At the close, I was impelled to give an invitation to all who would accept Christ as a Savior, and over twenty-five persons came forward for the first time. It was a sight to make "joy in the presence of the angels of God." Most of them were young men and women, and n country can show a handsomer company than they were. 73 Galax Gatherers, and I was reminded of General Howard's astonishment at the appearance of these Highlanders, when he first came to visit our missions. He said he never saw handsomer young people anywhere, in all his wide experience. Ex- posure and hardship soon make many of them prema- turely old. After the morning service I went home with "Proctor Bill" to dinner. It was my first visit. I had never seen a member of his family except his wife, who confessed Christ at Frozen Creek when I organized that church. I rode a mile or more up the Kentucky River, with a guide, crossed the river, and found the little cabin of two rooms, in a corn-field. It stood in a narrow valley, between a steep mountain and a deep river, and all of his four acres were in corn, to feed his family. He had built the cabin himself, of rough boards. I was re- minded of the song I heard in Jere McCauley's Mis- sion in New York City: "My Father is rich in houses and lands; with Jesus my Savior, I'm the child of a King." Recently his little boy, Tom, was drowned in the rVtr, and the shadow had not yet gone from that sor- rowful home. But it was a home of Christian faith and submission to God's will, and a home of prayer. Though among the poorest I ever entered, God hon- ored it with His presence, and made it "a palace of the King." At 2 P. M'. I preached again to a large congregation, who had walked miles away to dinner, and then re- turned. It was a typical Highland congregation. Not a foreigner was among them. Most of the men wore no coats, but they were strong and masterful men. The Sketches of the Ameeioak HiaHLANDBBS. 73 women were modestly and plainly dressed, generally, with no effort to be in the fashion, except such as their grandmothers had set. Their earnestness and simplicity, their desire for better things, appealed to my heart, and it was a privilege and pleasure to preach to them. To thousands of such, beyond all churches and Gos- pel privileges, the faithful Soul Winners are carrying the Bread of Life. To those who help, God has prom- ised a "kingdom in heaven." Are you among the num- ber who will be so honored and blessed? CHENOWEE. Among hundreds of noble women who have helped in the Soul Winners' Mission work was Miss Clemmie Patton, daughter of Rev. Dr. J. G. Patton, of Decatur, Georgia. During her service in the Cumberlands, her distinguished father made her a visit, and the following letter graphically describes his experience: "On the 29th of July I left my home, in Decatur, Georgia, for the mountains of Kentucky. About 6 o'clock of the next day, my daughter, who had preceded me several weeks, flagged the train at Chenowee, in Breathitt County. This spot I shall never forget. Only one little house to be seen, and that some distance away, and just in front of us was the mouth of a great tunnel. There by the track, in the gloomy shadows of the moun- tains, holding the hand of a little mountain girl, stood my child, anxious to receive me. Along the way over the mountain for a mile and a half to the place where I 74 Galax Gathbhees, and was to stay, the people, old and young, gathered to bid me welcome, for they had been prepared for my coming. So soon as we reached the house of Mr. Robert Cundiff I was made to feel at home. I shall always remember that dear family for their kind treatment of me. Nobler spirits do not live in the great State of Kentucky. That night my rest was sweet. On the morning of the next day I walked out, and oh! the mountains! the moun- tains ! Ruskin says they are the 'beginning and the end of all natural scenery.' I love the mountains. They show forth God's might. They tell of His protecting power, for 'As the mountains are round about Jerusalem so the Lord is round about them that fear Him.' Jesus spent much of His time in the solitude of the moun- tains. He preached His first sermon on a mountain; He fed multitudes on the mountain; He was crucified on a mountain ; He was transfigured on a mountain, and He left this earth from the top of a mountain. If you want to rest, go to the mountains. If you want to grow strong, climb the mountains. If you want to get back to nature, roam the mountains. If you would have your heart stirred with the sympathy and com- passion of Jesus, see and talk with the people of the mountains. The people in these parts have been much misrepresented. That there are vicious people here I will not deny. But such is the case everywhere, even in Lexington, Louisville and Atlanta. The people who live in the plains cannot boast of their natural goodness over those who live in the mountains. Wherever differ- ence exists, we ask what makes it? Paul answers, 'Grace.' Where is boasting then? To know the people even in Breathitt County, you will be convinced that Sketches of the Ameeicak Hiqhlandess. 75 they are naturally kind, hospitable and true. They are almost entirely without education, in the technical sense of the term, but that is for the want of an opportunity. I can safely say this much: That for native mental strength, the boys and girls of the mountains will com- pare favorably with the boys and girls of the cities. All they need is an opportunity, and their daughters would grace the most cultured society, and their boys would make leaders among men. They are wanting in Chris- tianity to an alarming extent, but where does the fault lie? They have a few mountain preachers, but in many cases they are immoral men, and generally wholly illiter- ate. The people are starving for the 'Bread of Life,' and they eagerly take it when it is given them. The fields are literally 'white to the harvest.' During our ten days' meeting at Chenowee, the people came, some of them walking ten miles across the mountains. I could realize in a measure how the Master felt when He stood before the hungry multitudes. I never preached to a people more orderly, more attentive, and scarcely ever to those so eager to hear the Gospel. During those ten days, without excitement, forty professed faith in Christ. It was a rare privilege to labor among such people. What an opportunity for the Christian Church of America! The situation is unique. It is one that jus- tifies the policy of the 'Society of Soul Winners,' under the leadership of Dr. Guerrant, of Wilmore, Kentucky, the utilizing of the Christian forces that are available from all the evangelical denominations in the country. Some say that this is irregular; true, but if the work cannot be accomplished in a regular way, it must bfc done in an irregular way. What these dear people need 76 Galax Gathbeees, and first of all is salvation. Christ they must have, or perish, and those who are trying to give them Christ should be encouraged. It is very easy to criticise methods, but when the cry of these people fill your soul with Christ- like compassion you rejoice that they are fed by whom- soever it may be done. From Chenowee, I went over the mountain to Puncheon Camp, and there I found the people of that section, under the direction of Dr. Guer- rant, erecting a large school-building. The blessing which this school will be to the boys and girls of the mountains cannot be estimated. Money sent to Dr. Guerrant for this purpose will pay large dividends, im- perishable for this life and the life to come. Any of our ministers who will spend a week preaching to the moun- tain people next summer will receive inspiration and hope in the Gospel here, and bright stars in their crowns hereafter. Consecrated young men and women who would spend a profitable vacation next summer cannot do better than to work among the needy, and most appreciative people of the mountains. I cannot put the truth too strongly. If the vast multitudes in the moun- tains of Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina and Vir- ginia and Georgia could be brought to Christ and their strong characters developed for H'lim, what a force would be added to the army of the Lord, and what an advan- tage gained in our great effort to take the world for God." ON THE UPPER QUICKSAND. I feel confident if Christian people could see what I have seen here in two weeks, a new order of things Sketches of the Ameeioait Highlanders. 77 would be set in motion to save these perishing people; and tens of thousands of dollars instead of hundreds, would be given to the cause ; and scores of faithful evan- gelists would fill those mountains, instead of "here and there a traveller," a lone missionary, trying to do the work of a dozen men. Let me lend your big congregation my eyes for twenty minutes, and they will see what moved my heart, and I hope will move theirs. On Wednesday, the 9th of August, in company with Rev. Henry E. Partridge, of Florida, and Mr. John J. Barret (cornetist), of Louisville, and my little boy, Willie, I started to the foreign field on the Upper Quicksand River, in the Kentucky Cumberlands. The grand canon of the Red River and the hundred miles of forest-clad mountains was the first revelation to the Floridian and Louisvillian. It was worth the long journey from the sand and sunshine of the great peninsula of the St. John's. That night Brother Partridge preached an excellent sermon to the united Methodist and Presbyterian prayer- meeting congregations, at the Methodist Church in Jackson. Early on Thursday morning, we left Jackson on two horses and a mule, and a wagon with a big tent and our little baggage. I took the myle, as the city gentlemen were not accustomed to his gaits. It rained on us all morning, but shined on us the bal- ance of the long way up the Quicksand. So, though only one had an umbrella, we were dry enough at the end of our journey. Willie rode the wagon with "Bunk" Combs and the baggage. The road up the main Quick- 78 Galax Gathekees, and sand being impassable for a wagon, we took the South Fork, which was not quite so bad. We passed the place where "bad Tom" Smith mur- dered Dr. Rader. Near by, we met a gentleman who told us his father had been trying to have him killed for some years. We passed on. Not far above the mouth of Dumb Betty (a mountain stream) we passed an original still-house under a big cliflf, where the natives manufacture trouble. We "passed by on the other side," as the good Samaritan would have done. We left the South Fork and went up Russell's Fork, and over the mountain to Winny Branch, and down to the main Quicksand. There had probably been a road that way once, but there is no evidence of it left. The raging waters have carried it all away. The mountain was so steep one could scarcely walk down it ; the wagon, I suppose, just slid down. None but a mountain man would have dared to let her slide. One o'clock brought us to Mr. John Wesley Mann's, a whole-souled mountaineer, who has nothing too good for a way-worn traveller. Here our young missionary, Addison Talbott, has been boarding this summer, and he was delighted to see some one from the "settlements." Two bright girls soon had us some dinner, and some fine apples, after which we rode on to our destination, at the mouth of Spring Fork, some thirty miles above the mouth of the crooked Quicksand River. Brother Partridge and I found a home with Jack floward, and Mr, Barret and Willie with Mr. EvanS. Sketches oe the American Highlanders. 79 Their unfurnished room had neither door nor window, but was delightfully cool these summer days. Their simple-hearted welcome made us feel at home, for there never were more generous people. Children, dogs and all, treated us like brothers. That evening we began to fix the big tent. No place could be found for it except in a thick grove of trees on a bench of the mountain, where a battle had been fought in the old war times. Here four brave Confederate boys were sleeping their last sleep, by the gentle murmur of the mountain stream and the warble of the wild birds. Here we came to preach the Gospel of peace and love to the children of sin and sorrow. By Friday noon, with the cheerful help of Steve Car- penter and the other "boys," we had the big tent up, and seats for three hundred people. They were only six- inch oak fencing plank, within six inches of the ground, but the "Gospel is not bound" to circular pews and cushioned seats. "God's first temple" is greater and grander than all abbeys and cathedrals. It is wide as the earth, and its dome is lit with the stars. Here we preached ten days, and God and his untutored children of the hills came to hear and to help, to bless and be blessed. Our tent was pitched across the river from the road, but a temporary bridge and horses and bare feet brought the crowds across. There is no church in this country and never has been one. The little church at Rousseau, twelve miles down the river, organized four years ago, is the only one on the seventy-five miles of the Quicksand River. Could you believe it? 80 Galax Gatheeeeb, and There is no regular preaching in this country, except one "yearly" mjeeting, held at old Mrs. Davis'. Our hostess told us she had heard only one man preach in two years, and that at a funeral. Indeed funeral ser- mons have the monopoly of all the preaching. They are generally held in the fall, and at the graves. One man's funeral has been preached annually for fourteen years. On the Sabbath when there were some three hundred people present, I asked how many were members of any church, and found only thirteen. Think of it! Thir- teen out of three hundred, men and women: Anglo- Saxons, Kentuckians ! and several of these came up from the church at Rousseau, twelve miles below. Day after day, they came in crowds, through heat and dust, walking and riding; some bare-footed and some bare-headed, with babies and dogs (until we drew the line on dogs), and sat patiently from 9 to ii A. M., and from 2 to 4 P. M., on six-inch boards, within six inches of the ground. If your pastor can't preach in your nice church, send him to the Quicksand; it is no trouble there. It just preaches itself. If men were dumb, the "stones would cry out." God gave us good weather after a big rain Sunday afternoon. The young men who have been teaching Sabbath schools along this river this summer did noble work in visiting and singing. Mr. Barrett did invaluable ser- vice with his cornet, which made up for our lack of singers, and echoed along the mountain coves, in leading God's praises. There being no doctor in some twenty-five miles, I visited some of the sick. One evening I went with Mr. Sketches oe the American- Highlandees. 81 Talbott to see old lady Davis, who has "spells," and Mr. Ritchie, who lost an eye last week with acute inflam- mation, and Mr. Russell, who had a turtle bone lodged in his throat, and the little Trusty girl, who had fever, but no doctor or medicine. Pity the poor ; but none so poor as those without a Savior. During the week I took occasion to explain the Mor- mon abomination, as some of their agents, in sheep's clothing, had gone through this country. I don't think they will return. To ascertain if the people took religious papers, I asked for all who were subscribers, and there was not one. Old Mr. Sheppard said he was sixty-seven years old, and had never seen a religious paper. A number subscribed for the "Soul Winner," which is published for the poor, at twenty-five cents a year, and some could not even pay that. Through the second week. Brother Partridge preached with great tenderness and earnestness, twice a day, morning and evening, and I followed him, making four sermons every day, not counting earnest exhortations by Daniel Mcintosh, oiir mountain elder from Rous- seau, and our Sunday school missionaries, Allen, Crock- ett and Talbott. For four to five solid hours, the patient people listened, and learned a Gospel they said they never heard before. On the last Saturday, I preached on Baptism, by request, explaining it, but giving every person a choice of mode, as they were raised in the immersionist belief. The last two days, Saturday and Sunday, were the great days of the feast. The big tent was crowded. There was never better behavior nor better attention 82 Galax Gathbrees, and from 9 o'clock in the morning till 5 o'clock in the after- noon, with a recess for lunch. Seventy-seven persons, nearly all grown people, and many aged, confessed Christ, and over seventy received baptism. It was Pentecost on Quicksand. The shouting drowned the weeping, and rolled across the river, and up the mountains, to heaven. Brother Partridge, twice a presiding elder, said he never saw the like before, and shouted as if it were a Methodist camp-meeting. He could not help it; I felt like it myself. I shall never forget the scene. Some of the faces of those poor women were transformed into beauty by a touch of Divinity. They talked with God, and their faces shone like Moses'. I have often wit- nessed great demonstrations of God's power, but this experience stands conspicuous above them all, like Pentecost of old. I thank God I was there. At 5 o'clock, then the tenth day, we sent the reluctant people home, but not until after they had determined to build themselves a church, and selected three leading men, John Brown, John Wesley Mann, and Buchanan Bradley, with Stephen Carpenter and Jack Howard, as a building committee. Mr. Howard generously gave them a site for the church. The next morning found us all going down the river to the church at Rousseau, on our way home. The Caney Mountain took up much of the twelve miles, and was as bad as the ascent of Pike's Peak. Much of it we had to walk. Mr. Barrett once lost his balance and fell to the ground, much to the amusement of the boys on the mules. At 2 P. M. Brother Partridge and I preached to a t B ■< O M o H 6. O *!! O O Sketches of the Ameeioait Highlanders. 83 fine congregation in the pretty church at Rousseau, the only one on the long Quicksand. It was a remarkable congregation for 2 o'clock on Monday. The house was about full, and three persons united with the church, two of whom I baptized. This church is only four years old, in a country where we had not a single mem- ber, and is worth every dollar expended in this great work of saving these perishing people. After the preaching, another long ride over the moun- tains brought us to Jackson, in the night. Willie and Stuart Crockett had to walk it (fourteen miles), for want of a mule. Over one hundred families without a Bible were sup- plied with one, I could only wish God's faithful people could see the sorrowful religious destitution of these poor, but worthy, people, and then see the inexpressible joy of a new- found hope of everlasting life through the Savior of the poor. If they could, we would not have to beg for help to send them the Gospel. On the treatment of such depends the tremendous sen- tence of the Judgment Day. May God help us to help them. ELKATAWA. Will you please lend me your ears while I tell you of a day at Elkatawa, a sample of many days and many Elkatawas in the great Cumberlands? I came hers on Frida;y evening to visit our mission- aiies, Rev, Dr. Satlnders and wife, arid Mrs. Emma Gor- 84 Galas Gatherers, and don. I found them in a "shanty" not near so good as your stable, but serving as a vestibule to mansions in heaven. We preached Saturday morning in the school-house (as there is no church here) to three little children. At 3 P. M. we had seventy-five people present. Sunday the house and yard were filled with four or five hundred people, who stood or sat on the ground, or rough planks, for four hours, to hear the Gospel. Most of these people walked to church, and some of them for miles. We took up a collection to build a church here, and got one dollar and sixty-seven cents. Maybe they had no more, or didn't know how to give (probably the former). We will try to help them build a church this summer. Fifty children joined the Sabbath school, and fifty more are to come — many grown-up children. Their zeal reminded us of the people of Gennesaret, who were waiting for Jesus, and ran to meet him. Of course He healed them all. He always does. I believe He healed many souls here yesterday. Their eagerness to hear was refreshing. They left no room for the preacher ; and bright little girls crowded the corner where Mrs. Gordon played the little organ, to help her sing. They all said they could sing, and tried to prove their faith by their works. The Gospel songs have been a powerful evangel in the humble homes of the mountaineers. Most of the children know a few songs, taught by the missionaries. It is a delight to feed those who are hungry, but piti- ful to see so many without "the Bread of Life." Sketches of the AMEKiCAif Highlanders. 85 There is no preaching to this great crowd of people, except an occasional sermon by a Mormon. Our Field Secretary, Rev. Harvey Murdoch, has gone on a long tour to our missionaries on the Quicksand. We believe he is a "man sent from God" for this work. Few realize how much it is needed. It is over one hundred miles from here, by the two rivers, to the Virginia border, — mountains all the way, full of sinners, and only two preachers I know of, one a Methodist and one a Northern Presbyterian. We have a number of faithful missionaries scattered through this region, but they are like light-houses on the shores of a continent of darkness. I have just returned from Texas and Oklahoma, with their boundless contiguity of sunshine and wealth, and cannot but note the contrast to this boundless contiguity of shade and poverty, where the shadow of death covers hundreds of thousands of souls. I am sure God's wise and liberal children will come to their rescue, if they only know the facts. Many are already helping, but we need so many more consecrated workers, and so much more consecrated money to sustain them. We could use thousands where we get hundreds of dollars. As to its use, we may quote that one of God's wisest and best servants (a distinguished preacher known throughout the whole country. North and South), says of this work : "The Soul Winners' Society is doing the most and best work, with the least money, of any mis- sionary society on earth, so far as I know." We are sending out every week more faithful labor- ers into the great harvest-field, relying on God to sustain 86 Galax Gatheeees, and them. May He honor you with a part in this great work, with your prayers and your gifts. Many earnest workers have recently gone into the Alleghanies of Tennessee and North Carolina, and others into the Kentucky Cumberlands, but the cry is still, "Come over and help us." Especially is this cry most pleading and piteous from the great Cumberlands. It is a pitiful thing to hear a child crying for its dead mother; how much more sorrowful is it to hear a lost soul crying for its unknown Savior. It should melt a heart of adamant. FROM PANTHER RIDGE. Some mionths ago two consecrated young people from Canada, who had given their lives and labors to their Master, went as missionaries to the darkest corner of the desolate mountains. They asked only a scant living, which was all the Society of Soul Winners could promise them, under whose auspices they went to carry the "glad tidings." They were utter strangers to the country and people, but they knew the Gospel, and God's love and power. They went twenty miles beyond a town or a doctor or a church or a preacher. Their hired home is a little log-cabin, of one room, without a window or a carpet, or furniture, or convenience of any kind, and the door and roof only names. By dint of hard work they have patched it up to keep from freezing this winter. In an open log-house they have started a Sunday school, and have enrolled a hun- Sketches of the American Highlandees. 87 dred mountain children, all of whom are taught by the faithful missionary and his wife; forty in one class and sixty in the other; no other help in reach. The poor people gave them a cordial welcome, — all they had to give, — ^and are beginning to learn a better "way" than they have ever known before. The following letter from the young wife gives some idea of the country, its sin and sorrow, its people, and their destitutions, and the privations and hardships of such a life. And more, it gives an idea of the power of the Gospel to take a lovely, educated young woman fromi a happy home and kind friends and bury her in a living tomb among wild, strange people in a desolate land. And even more yet, we see her do it cheerfully, and happily, and without a murmur or complaint. Pandita Ramabai, noble as she is, made no such sacrifices for her poor, perishing countrymen. That this devoted Christian woman and her husband will succeed, goes without saying. Heaven and earth will pass away, but the promise of their glorious reward will never pass. Their crowns in heaven will outshine all the tiaras that ever glittered on the brows of kings and queens on earth. Are you a partner of their labors? Will you be a partner of their reward ? The letter following was written to a lady friend, who kindly permits us to use it in stimulating others to Hke service, and sustaining those who have gone to publish salvation to our perishing countrymen: 88 Galax Gatherers, and "My Dear Sister: "Panther Ridge. "I have been delayed in answering your letter, and I hope you will pardon me. You asked for a description of our field here. I hardly know what to write; you have heard so many things, and still there is so much more that cannot be expressed by pen and paper; the real needs of the people; the lack of knowledge and education, and, above all, the lack of Christ in the hearts and lives of these people. "Sometimes we almost stand in awe as we face this great work, not only in our vicinity, but in the regions about us. No Bible being taught; no Sunday school for children, and nothing that would lift the thoughts from daily toil and care and sin and sorrow, to a brighter and more hopeful landscape even, — that time when God's people will see His face and shall be with Him forever. They have no such hope. They do not know how to pray. I have asked nearly all of my fifty children in my Sunday school class if they pray, and not one of them had ever been taught to pray. "God's name is used only in blasphemy, not as the One who is Love. But I hope and trust that into these dark hearts will come the assurance of that love, and their hearts will be changed, and the spirit of love will permeate them till they, too, will seek to tell the 'old, old story.' "The children are learning very fast; they are bright as can be, and when they are once interested, they can be relied upon. "I have been taking up a course of the life of Christ. I found it would not do to follow the International Les- Sketches oe the Ameeioait Highlandebs. 89 sons before they knew of Jesus Christ, of His life, death and resurrection. "Our school-house, which has been in very poor con- dition, and even yet is not fitted up warm enough for winter, will, I trust, soon be completed. I have had the children come here to our house when it was too cold in the school-house. "Our house is very small, and the accommodations for Sunday school limited ; but the children are glad to come, and it makes my heart rejoice to see their bright little faces, and to hear them sing so heartily the beau- tiful hymns. "I think I'll describe our trip to Peasticks last Sun- day, and that will give you a little idea of the country, and the people's needs. "After our morning service here, we got a lunch and started off horseback. I rode our horse, while Mr. Smith rode a borowed one. We could not take the direct road to Peasticks, as they had been cutting timber, and the road was blocked. "It was all a new experience to me. I had travelled down and up the creeks, but had never crossed a moun- tain. For awhile we took the bed of the creek, some- times splashing through the water, then over ledges of rocks, up and down continually; then under trees that had fallen across the creek, and we would be compelled to bow low, and even then we would have our backs rubbed by the trees. But at last we came to the foot of the mountain. I said, 'Surely we don't ride up here.' The path looked straight up, up, up; but I was told to hang to the horse's mane, and up we started. That was not the worst. It was when we got to the other side 90 Galax Gatheeees, and that I positively refused to ride any more, so I got down and led my horse. I thought I should slide over his head, and if the horse should slip, I don't know where we would have been. At last, we reached Peasticks, after two hours and a half of hard riding, — only seven miles. "At the school-house we did not find any one, so rode on to the store. There we found the devil had got there before us. A barrel of whiskey had been gotten in, the night before, and scores of men, women and children were there drinking and carousing. "I don't know when my heart felt so sick at the sight of young girls, standing around and talking with the men. Many of them had powdered their faces and put on their finery, to make themselves look as attractive as possible. It is awful. What are the laws of the land? Such lawlessness and debauchery is a disgrace to a country. May God help these poor people. "Mr. Smith went among them and invited them to come up to the school-house, and we went back. We had about forty-five to come in, and the Word of God was preached from the text: 'Come, for all things are now ready.' It is a comfort to know that results do not rest with us. It is our duty to preach the Word and to pray, but God gives the increase. I pray that even on Peasticks there will be precious souls won for the Master. They have no regular work there, only an occasional service. The children have nothing done for them. "There are other places where we expect to go when- ever we can, but the roads are so bad we cannot get about far in these short days. Sketches of the American Highlanders. 91 "It was dark before we got home, and the road is dan- gerous. The work is needy, and I believe the harvest is ripe. I don't think all will be converted, but the Lord has His own here in the mountains, and it is our busi- ness to preach 'Whosoever will,' and leave the rest with God. "Since starting to write, it has begun raining, and I can scarcely find a dry spot to sit. These mountain homes are not very comfortable; even with all the im- provements we have made on this old house, it would not be counted fit to live in, if it were in another part of the country. The poor mountain people don't know what comfort is. "I hope, if it will please the Lord for us to remain here many years, that we may have a little home where we can be a little more comfortable. "The people around us here are anxious to learn to read, and have asked me to teach school this winter. I may do so some days out of the week, but with house- keeping and visiting, my time is fully occupied. "I know that you will remember us in your prayers, and, above all, pray that a spirit of deep conviction of sin may comie upon these people, and they will cry out, 'What must I do to be saved'? "EosB S." THE HOUSE THAT GOD BUILT. (by one who saw it.) Far away in the wildest Cumberland Mountains is a little hamlet of Highlanders, twenty-five miles from a railroad, or any other kind ; and some twenty miles from 93 Galax Gatseeees, and any town, far beyond all churches, schools, doctors and preachers. Here "the forgotten people" had lived and labored and died for a hundred years. God alone knew and loved them. So He sent one of His aged servants and his wife and youngest daughter to carry them "the Glad Tidings of Salvation." Twenty-five miles across the rugged mountains and rivers they rode on horse- back, and pitched a tent in a narrow valley by a beauti- ful river. This was the first church in all that country. The aged doctor preached, and his loving daughter taught the wondering Highlanders every day the lessons of heavenly wisdom. They filled the tent with their presence, and the dells with their praises. So happy and grateful were they that they determined to have a better house. So, with strong arms and loving hearts, they built a beautiful church on Laurel Point, a spur of the mountain, and called it "Louise Chapel," in honor of their noble teacher, Miss Louise Saunders. Here her venerable father. Rev. Dr. Miles Saunders (for thirty-seven years the pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Springfield, Kentucky,) preached the gospel to increasing crowds of his Highland brethren. Few could preach as well, and fewer preach it under such difificulties and self-denial. The work grew beyond their strength, so God sent a noble Gordon wom'an to help, and then brought from a New York City church a strong young preacher, a Mississippian, and a graduate of Princeton, to help carry the burden and share the re- ward. God gave him the heart and hand of this noble young woman, and Miss Louise Saunders became Mrs. Harvey S. Murdoch. Then, with united hearts and hands, they Sketches op the American Highlanders. 93 went to work to build a school for the hundreds of High- land lads and lassies around them. They found willing hands to help them, and, though the people were poor in money, they were rich in forests. So the Highlanders gave logs and lumber and labor, and built the "Log Col- lege" on a mountain brow, facing Louise Chapel, with a beautiful campus between. Soon it was full, and no place to take others who wanted to come; so a nice girls' dormitory and a dwelling for teachers were built. All these were built of logs, sawed and squared and set with plummet and compass, the most beautiful houses of their kind in the State, and elegantly furnished with two hundred bright lads and lassies, many of them pre- paring to teach and preach the Gospel, we hope. Every- thing is crowded, college, dormitories and refectory, and many more to follow, when there is room. Six trained teachers are employed, and the Bible is the foremost text-book, and God's glory the chief object. When Dr. Saunders and his wife and daughter enr tered this great mountain field, eight years ago, there was not a single church, or school, where a mountain boy could get an education. Now there are six nice churches and three homes for the missionaries, with three educated teachers and preachers ; the Log College, with three other schools, taught by competent teachers, and over five hundred professors of faith in Christ. "Be- hold what God hath wrought." And for all this work not a single collection has been taken in any church. God built these houses by the hands of His wise and consecrated children all over the land. This is a part of the work of the Society of Soul Win- ners. Its missions embrace the mountains of Kentucky, 94 Galax Gathbeees, and Tennessee, North Carolina and Virginia. It simply pays the board of its faithful teachers and preachers. God will provide their reward when He divides the "King- doms and Crowns" in "that Day." And not for these only, but for all those whose prayers and alms have helped in His work among our poor Highland neigh- bors. Have you a part in this glorious work ? THE CHURCH ON THE GRAPE VINE. Far up in the Kentucky Mountains, thirty miles by the river from Jackson, and the railroad, is a glassy stream known as the Grape Vine. It is out of the way to any other place, and the road to it is a bridle-path over the mountains. For fifty miles along this branch of the Kentucky River there was no church. Some five summers ago I visited this destitute region, and preached in a little school-house on the banks of the river, amid the soli- tude of a primeval forest. The untutored children of the hills filled the little house, and God came down and saved some scores of precious souls. Since then, devoted men have gone to them with the glad tidings of salvation. Mr. Wallin, Mr. Farnsworth, Dr. Witherspoon, Dr. Saunders, Mr. Fincher, and others, have labored faithfully at different times among them. Members were added, a church organized, and a house of worship built and made ready for dedication. On Thursday, July 6th, with Rev. James A. Bryan, of Birmingham, Alabama, and Samuel M. Johnson, Jr., of New York, I started to the Grape Vine. Thetefe brethren Sketches of the American Highlandebs. 95 had kindly consented to help in our evangelistic work. It was their first adventure in the mountains. A ride of one hundred miles brought us to Jackson, the ter- minus of the mountain railroad. The scenery up the Red River canon and the Kentucky River surpassed any they had ever seen. On our way we passed William Steinert, one of our missionaries at Oak Dale, and found two more faithful men at Jackson. Rev. Charles A. Logan had just been installed pastor of our church here. A most happy selection. His church had been burned on Wednesday night, but some insurance will help them build a better house, we hope. Early Friday morning we three started for the Grape Vine, twenty-three miles over the mountains. Two little mules (of Dr. Saunders') furnished us transportation for ourselves and baggage, with one horse part of the way (when we did not walk). The city gentlemen showed their zeal by "patient endurance" of many hardships, and "rejoiced in tribulations," even beyond our hopes. They learned many things not taught in Birmingham or New York City, some valuable lessons in life's journey : how big the world is ; how other people live ; how poor some are, and how destitute of the Gospel. In the long stretch of twenty-three mountain miles, we saw no church, and only one man trying to show them the better way, "Uncle Ben" Bigstaif, the faithful evangelist, at the mouth of Lost Creek, on the Trouble- some. Here is a stream seventy-five miles long, and only one church on it. No comment necessary. From there to the Grape Vine we had a rough ride (and walk), of thirteen miles across two mountains. On top of Leatherwood Mountain, the brethren sang, "Let 96 Galax Gatheeees, and the blessed sunshine in," where the dark valleys only symbolized the deep spiritual darkness of the inhabi- tants. Brother Bryan remarked that he learned more of God and men in two days here than in two weeks at the Northfield School. On the way we met an old man, walking. When he recognized me, he gave me his right hand (had before given his left), and said : "I have thanked God a thou- sand times for the Testament you gave me years ago on the Troublesome. I read it all the time." We thanked God for old Henry Mcintosh and his Testament. Night and the rain caught us before we reached the Grape Vine, and we found a resting place in three strange homes. Brother Johnson got lost before he found his place. On Saturday morning we went around and brought a little congregation of fifteen to church, because there was no appointment for that day. Thanks to the labors of Mr. Fincher, Mr. Deggendorf, Edward and Tom. Mose- ley and Dwight Witherspoon, Jr., and native helpers, we found a pretty little white church on a high, grassy hill, surrounded by beautiful forest-clad mountains, over- looking the river and Grape Vine stream. I do not think I ever saw a finer location for a church. It is certainly "beautiful for situation," the joy of the whole valley. On Sunday it was crowded to overflowing. The patient people came early, and Brother Bryan began to preach at 9 A. M. We all preached by turns, and the services continued until 5 P. M., with a recess for din- ner. This is their custom up here. At 11 A. M. we dedicated the church to the service of God. Four grown Sketches op the American Highlandeeb. 97 persons united with the church, three of them received baptism, — one a leading citizen, and three young ladies. Dr. Miles Saunders, of Crockettsville, was too unwell to be present, much to our regret. Brother Barkley, our synodical colporteur, and Jake Field, elder at Big Creek, came sixteen miles to the services. God gave us fine weather during this week, and we all preached every day, morning and afternoon, beginning at 9 A. M. and closing about 5 P. M. During the week, forty-four per- sons confessed Christ, forty-two of them adults, — one old man seventy-three years old. Forty-three united with the church on profession, and one by letter, and there was great rejoicing (and some shouting) on Grape' Vine. Most of the people walked to church, and a good many carried their little children. One mother brought a little fellow, only sixteen days old, every day. Brother Mitchell, pastor at Hazard, came down on Monday and was with us at the burial of Mrs. Major John Eversole, one of the oldest inhabitants. The burial (as usual) was on the summit of a mountain peak, with a grand view of the river and country for miles. Her granddaughter, a fine girl, has been conducting the Sab- bath school and is not afraid to walk three mountain miles to do it. Thursday night I went three miles down the river to Mrs. Dr. Wilson's, over a way where one needed wings. The river had washed the road away and hardly left a dangerous bridle path. Yet these earnest people travel such a way to hear the Gospel. I found Mrs. Wilson living at the home of James Moore (a Methodist preacher), who had killed his brother there, and in sight of the place where Jacob Neece had killed 98 Galax Gatheeees, and the United States marshal, William Byrd. Two widowed women, alone, live on this side of the river, with only mountains in sight, and away from the road and world. I have never seen a more isolated or lonely place. But God was there to protect and comfort his secluded children. On Friday afternoon Brother Bryan and I started for Crockettsville, in Breathitt County, thirteen miles away, to meet an appointment with Dr. Saunders. Brother Johnson remained to preach on the Sabbath, when eight more confessed Christ, making fifty-two received this week. We found the way to Crockettsville about as good (or bad) as all the roads. They all run up or down streams, along narrow valleys, over rough mountains and across rivers. We crossed the middle fork of the Kentucky River at Gross' Store, came near getting lost on Squabble Creek, and reached Callahan's about dark. (This reminds me in time to give you a rest and take one myself.) At some other time I may tell you about the work at Crock- ettsville, where one year ago there was not a single church or Presbyterian, and now a beautiful new church, built by the mountain people, and one hundred and forty members. PREACHING THE GOSPEL TO THE POOR. When Brother Bryan and I came in sight of our last summer's camp, we found a pretty white church stand- ing near the spot where the big tent stood last July. We s < Eli Sketches of the Ameeioast Highlandees. 99 could hardly believe it, but it was there, with the Sun, Moon and Stars painted over the door; a large, nice frame church building, the first in this country, and the only one built entirely by the inhabitants. We hoped to rest on Saturday, but Dr. Saunders worked us from 9 A. M. to 4 P. M., except when he was working his troops in battalion drill. Acting on the suggestion to be "all things to all men," and know- ing the martial spirit of his people, he had organized a company of fifty boys and girls, uniformed them in red caps, etc., and trained them in the manual of arms (and legs) and the Creed and Catechism. I need not say it was well done. They marched and counter-marched up and down the creek, and into the church (his objective point), and sang "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder," so as to stir the spirit of an old soldier. I was glad he did not ask me to show them how to repeat the Creed and Catechism. They knew it per- fectly, without any assistance. It was a most interesting and instructive exercise. It captures the wild boys and timid girls, and puts them in the Sabbath school, and puts God's truth in their hearts. The girls are taught to cut and make garments, to sing and read ; and the best singing done in our meeting was done by this class. All honor to Mrs. Saunders and Mrs. Gordon, the faithful teachers. Sunday was the "great day of the feast." People came on foot and horse and mule-back, and in wagons, for miles (some twenty miles), and filled the church and porch and outdoors. Services began at 9 A. M.; at 11 we dedicated the 100 Galax Gathereks, and new and beautiful church and furnishings to the wor- ship of God, who built the n^ountains and loves their simple-hearted children. The church is handsomely papered and painted, with nice pews, carpet and organ, good enough for anybody. The handsome pulpit Bible was the gift of Mrs. Mc- Campbell, of Versailles, and the elegant silver Com- munion service the gift of Mrs. Dr. J. N. Saunders, whose beloved husband was so long an honor to his church and State. Twelve persons united with the church on profession to-day, amid great rejoicing. At S P. M. we sent the reluctant people home. This evening Brother Bryan received a telegram from Birmingham, Alabama, summoning him home to his sick wife, and he started at once to Jackson, twenty-one miles on horseback, through a big rain. We were greatly grieved to see him go, but could not object. His daily "walk and conversation" is a better sernion than we can preach, and his public ministry in the pulpit won all hearts. God will reward him for his faithful, self-deny- ing service. He came all the way from his home in Bir- mingham to help us in this great work. It was not new to him, for he was a Soul Winner by nature and grace, both. Brother Johnson came over from Grape Vine Monday (with Jack Gambill, and one mule), and rendered in- valuable service during the week. In spite of the busy season, and an epidemic of deadly dysentery among the people, the congregations increased daily, until Thursday, when we were crowded out again. Sketches of the Ameeicau Sighlandees. 101 I suppose there were four or five hundred present, the whole day. During the week Dr. Saunders conducted five fune- rals, at the church, of death from bloody flux. Not the least of the blessings of the Gospel to these poor people is the church for their dead, and a true preacher to point them from suffering and death to life and joy in heaven. The Doctor's little wagon brought their dead to the church, and bore them away to humble graves amtong their solemn mountains. At every service there were confessions of Christ, and on Thursday morning, Dr. Saunders baptized thirty- four persons, and others in the afternoon. Altogether, there were forty-five additions to the church this week, giving this church 175 members. It was organized on July 30, 1898, with only one person who had been a Presbyterian. Truly God hath done great things for them and us, whereof we are glad and grateful. Let those whose generous help has made possible these blessed results thank God and rejoice in the glorious privilege. May God multiply their numbers and their rewards. As is his custom, "the Old Serpent" came up "with the sons of God," the last day, in the shape of a big rattlesnake, and threatened to draw some away, but a well-directed blow by the seed of a woman bruised his head beyond recognition or recovery. Want of time and strength compelled me to close my service on Thursday evening. Two Sabbaths from' my own church admonished me of my duty to those generous people, so at S A. M., Friday morning, I started to the railroad at Elkatawa, 103 Galax GATfiEEEtts^ and eighteen miles away. I found the road down the river and over the mountain somewhat better than last sum- mer, and my little riding mule walked and trotted it, Avith a little persuasion, by lo A. M. COMING TO CHRIST BAREFOOTED. How true that "one-half of the world does not know how the other half lives," even though that other half be their neighbors. The accompanying picture will serve to illustrate this fact. This is a family of Americans, — ^pure, old Anglo- Saxon blood, unmixed for hundreds of years, — ^true, hon- est, industrious, brave people. That they are poor is the fault of their environments ; they are the inhabitants of the rugged Cumberland Mountains, where the land is scarce and unproductive, and money scarcer. On a preaching tour through that country, I pitched my tent on a bench of a mountain, for want of a church or a better place. There was no church in miles, and never had been one. The people cam,e for miles, walking, and riding on horses and mules, over mountains and along rivers. They came early, as soon as they got their breakfast, and stayed until late in the afternoon. They sat upon rough boards, rocks and rails, and listened to the Gospel, which was a new story to them. Most of them went without dinner. For days together they listened eagerly to the Gospel for four or five hours a day. On going to the big tent, one day, a man came to me, Sketches of the Ameeioan Highlandebs. 103 and, taking me to one side, told me he had no shoes, and asked me if he could join the church bare-footed. I assured him he could do so, gladly. God cared nothing for shoes. He could go to heaven barefooted, though he might not go to Congress. He was delighted. His want of shoes was not due to laziness. He was the father of a large family in a poor country, and it was all he could do to keep the wolf from the door, by hard work. He wanted to be a Christian, and if he waited until he was able to buy shoes, the opportunity to join the church would be gone; so he came to request this privilege, as he was barefooted. After the sermon that day, I gave an opportunity to any who were ready to accept Christ as their Savior, to make a public confes- sion of their faith, and he was the first one to come. There was a large congregation of his neighbors pres- ent, many of them as poor as he was. They esteemed him as an honest, true man, and were glad he had the courage and grace to come, and many came with him. His own wife came, with a babe in her arms, to accept the same Savior, with her husband. There was rejoicing that day, not only under the shadow of the tall Cumberlands, but in the sunlight of heaven, on the mount of God. Seventy-seven persons, almost all grown, publicly confessed their Savior, and seventy of them received baptism. There is not a church in that country yet. Few of the people ever saw one; but your faithful missionaries are now teaching these long-neglected people how to be saved and live for the glory of God. These, and fifty other missionaries, are supported by the America Inland Mission, organized to send the Gos- 104 Galax GathekeeSj and pel to the three millions of destitute people of our own country, who live in the great ranges of the Cumber- land and Allegheny Mountains. God has greatly blessed this work, which is supported by the voluntary gifts of his generous children of every branch of the church, all over the world. We ask your prayers and help. A VISIT TO CATALOOCHEE. IN THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS. If you are not a mountain-climber you had better not undertake this trip. I am not sure I would have done it if I had known what I know now. God wisely con- ceals the future from us. Our faithful missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Barrows and Mr. Burton, had lived and worked there a long time, alone, and I thought it was little as I could do to go to see them. So, past the Cumberlands and Knoxville, Morristown and the French Broad, we went to Newport, on the beautiful Pigeon River, flowing out of the North Carolina AUeghanies. There we walked a mile to board a little car half full of flour, etc., on the new railroad up the river, for Cataloochee, in the Great Smoky Moun- tains. Ait Hartford, a little station, we met Mr. Bar- rows and Mr. Burton, who came to escort us to their little eyrie in the mountains. It was well they did, for though I have been climbing the Cumberlands since a boy, and the AUeghanies and Rockies, I do not think I could ever have found that home in the Great Smokies. 1^ O Sketches oi" the Amekicak Highlanders. 105 We left the cars where there was no road, and walked half a mile to the iron railroad bridge over the rapid river, which was too dangerous to cross in a boat. Mr. Barrows showed me where he and his family camie near being drowned in attempting to cross. Over rocks and stumps and trees, where there was not even a path, we made our way down to the mouth of the gorge in the mountain. Here we met little Milburn Brown, with one of the only three horses in the neighborhood, for me to ride. The way we went was up a rushing, roaring stream, which came down five hundred feet in a half mile, like a dozen cataracts of Lodore. It was magnificent, but it was not a road; but it was worth a trip to one who never saw nature in her wildest mood, and most magni- ficent dress. In that deep mountain gorge I found the most magnificent hemlocks I had ever seen — big and tall as the cedars of Lebanon; giants of the primeval forest. Among t^lese I found a rare tree of most beautiful white and pink bell-shaped flowers, and called by the natives the Tizwood. I had never seen it before. It blooms alongside the dogwood, but had a more beautiful flower. A mile up this cataract brought us to the little mission- house of Mr. Barrows. It was perched in a cleft of the mountain, under the shadow of Old Smoky, which reared its white head four thousand feet above, and marked the boundary between Tennessee and North Carolina. Mrs. Barrows and three little children (Lavanche and her little brother, and a borrowed one) gave me a hearty welcome to the humble home — where contented poverty lived happily with Jesus. It was a lovely Christian home and well served as a vestibule to the golden pal- 106 Galax Gatherers, and aces beyond the tall summit of Old Smoky. Mr. Bar- rows (for want of any place to live) had built his own little house, and propped it up with long poles to keep the big storms from moving it down on the river below. It was not pretty or warm, but better than the Master had. (It will be warmer next winter.) One little stove did the cooking and washing and ironing, and warming the house, when it could. And in this humble home, in the roughest, poorest country I ever saw, I found an educated, cultivated, gentle Christian woman, as happy as she could be, in her labors of love among these poor, but grateful, children of the great mountains. It was a privilege to be there. It was in the suburbs of heaven, more than two thousand feet above the troubles of the world below. That Monday night we all walked half a mile to a little school-house, where I preached to a house nearly full of people, all of whom had walked, for want of a better way. I couldn't see where they came from, but the mountains seemed to open, and they came out of vales, and dells, and nooks, all around. How they lived I do not know, but God, who feeds the birds, will not let His children starve, though I know some of them get hungry. It rained that night, or, rather, poured down, and all the next day, but we were five hundred feet above the roaring river, and felt safe, and sorry it rained. But the good people waded through mud and water to the little school-house at 9 o'clock A. M. (meeting takes up here at 9 o'clock), and it was about full of poor, wet mien, women and children, without a single umbrella or over- shoe. I did my best, but couldn't preach well enough for such people. Jesus only could do that. Sketches of the American Highlandees. 107 But I must get along to Cataloochee, Brother Bur- ton's mission-field in North Carolina. He was just re- covering from a spell of sickness and was not able to go with us, so Brother Barrows, on a little piece of a mule, and I on the only horse I saw, waded through the rain and mud over the mountains and down the valleys to Cataloochee, on Big Creek, in North Carolina. Here we found some three hundred people, in a large commissary store, where I preached, from a chair, while they all stood up. The men were off work on account of the rain. Mr. Burton is doing a good work here, under many disadvantages, but the management promises to build a school-house soon, which will serve for a church also. The Cherokee Indians, who live just up the river have a good school and church, provided by the government, so that the red children are better educated than their poor white neighbors. On our way back, I saw the only church in the country — a log house, but the roof was ofl, the floor gone, and the benches piled up in the cor- ner, all for want of religion. It does not always operate that way. It did here, and in Jeremiah's time. Night found us all back in the school-house, which was again full of wet people who walked through the rain in the dark, without a lantern or an lunbrella It will take heaven to "even up" things for such people. This was my last service here, and many came forward to express their desire for salvation and faith in Christ. Mr. and Mrs. Barrows have been prayerfully and faith- fully sowing the good seed in this wild and sterile soil, and God will "give the increase." The want of good schools here moved them to under- 108 Galax Gathebees, and take to build the "Seminary of the Great Smokies," where these scores of bright mountain boys and girls can enjoy the advantages of other more favored people. I was glad to find the foundation laid, and the frame up for a building of six rooms, the first school of its kind in all this wild region. They need help to complete it. The poor people, with little else to give, have contrib- uted some lumber, and much labor, in digging out a foundation in six feet of rock in the mountain-side. I doubt if there is a "higher" school anywhere, and the children will have to climb like squirrels to reach their Alma Mater on that mountain brow. But it was the best and only place to build it, for land is scarce in the Great Smokies, and it all stands on its edge. The flood continued all night, and if these mountains had not been built of rock, they would have been washed away. An engagement compelled me to leave the next morn- ing, and I was sorry I could not stay longer to help those faithful missionaries. They deserve more than they will ever receive this side of heaven, but they are content "to labor and to wait." The little Brown boy and "Joe" brought me down to the railroad and river another way, not quite so bad as I went up. The flood of rain had converted the river into a raging torrent, rushing down from the North Caro- lina mountains. It had overwhelmed the track in some places, and undermined it in others, so that it took all hands from 8 A. M. to 12 M. to get back to Newport without getting drowned. In the whole twenty miles, the roaring, rushing river tore down the narrow defile between the mountains of rock, like the rapids of Niagara. Night brought me to the hills of the Watauga, Sketches of the American Highlandebs. 109 and to the mission of our faithful evanglists, the Par- melees. I found them in a little log-cabin, at the head of a hollow, just wide enough for a horse to get through. They were busy and happy teaching twenty-five bright children of the hills every day in their little cabins, and seventy-five people every Wednesday night, and one hundred and fifty every Sunday, in an old deserted Dun- kard meeting-house, half a mile below. This is the work the Society of Soul Winners is doing in fifty missions, scattered over the mountains of Ken- tucky, Tennessee and North Carolina, beyond all others. It is for the regeneration of a race of Highlanders, long neglected, and worthy of a better fate. IN THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS. After a long time and over a long road, I made my third visit to the Great Smoky Mountains, which divide Tennessee from North Carolina. The evening of the second day I reached Brown's, a little station on the) rapid Pigeon River, some twenty miles from Newport, Tennessee. Clever Mr. Messer met me with the only horse in the neighborhood, and I climbed five hundred feet, in two miles, up to the Seminary of the Great Snmkies, where I found Miss Margaret Gordon and her mother. They have charge of this mission, and are universally beloved, for their own, and their work's sake. There was no appointment for preaching, until nearly dark, but a good congregation nearly filled the chapel. Where they came from, one could only guess, for few houses were visible in thfese wild, stieep mountains ; and 110 Galax Gathekeks, and it was equally hard to see how these people make a liv- ing, in the poorest country I have ever seen. Miss Gordon has a most interesting school, and the only one I ever remember with every pupil present. I preached three times the next day to most earnest congregations, every one of whom walked, and a number made confes- sion of Christ. The post-office at the Seminary is kept by one of the grown pupils, who told me his salary was four dollars a month, which nearly paid his board. A tall Highlander carried the mail, on his shoulder, to the railroad, which consisted of two letters and three postals that day. H,e carries it three times a week. This Semi- nary, built by Mr. Barrows, is a monument to the energy and consecrated zeal of a noble man and his wife. It is a large, substantial building, five hundred feet above the river, and four thousand five hundred feet below the top of the White Rock Mountain, which divides the two States. Miss Gordon and her mother occupy the upper rooms of the Seminary, which are level with the moun- tain behind it. Rev. Mr. Gordon and Mr. E. M. Mon- roe, Jr., have visited and preached there during the sum- mer. It is a promising and successful mission. Want of time compelled me to leave CEirly on Thursday morn- ing for the Ebenezer Mission, seven miles back of Del Rio, on the French-Broad River. From the Seminary, we had to descend to the river, down a roaring cataract, which an enterprising Highlander had harnessed to a little mill, where his few neighbors could get their grind- ing done. My guide informed me the mill cost ten dol- lars. Money is scarcer in these rugged mountains than the courage and industry that make a living for the hardy people. At Newport I had a pleasant hour with SIlEtohes op the American Highlandees. Ill Brother Black, who speaks John Knox's brogue and orthodoxy, among an appreciative people. At Del Rio I met Miss Leona Blake, of South Carolina, on her way to the mission. Mr. Munroe met us at Del Rio with a horse and mule to carry us seven miles up the Big Creek and across the mountain to the Ebenezer Home. We reached there at dark, after Miss Blake's horse had thrown her over his head, and then she traded him for the mule, after which we went safely. We found this mission, founded by two devoted Moravians, now irt China, in a flourishing condition and hopeful of greater things. It is admirably managed by Miss Margaret Allison, of North Carolina, ably assisted by Mr. Mar- shall Munroe, Jr., of Texas, and Miss Annie Laurie Wil- liams, of South Carolina. With commendable fore- thought, they had announced preaching that night and every day over the Sabbath. Rev. James B. Converse, of Morristown, who arrived to-day, on his regular visit to the mission, preached a most instructive sermon the first night. On Saturday, Sunday and Monday we had preaching twice daily to fine congregations. At night the chapel was crowded, and on Sabbath morning the Sunday school filled the chapel, dining-room and porch. I do not know where I ever saw a finer lot of Highland lads and lassies. It would have done Dr. Phillips' heart good to have been there. We were sorry he was not. During the services the profoundest attention was given, and more than a score of persons professed faith in the Savior. Miss Williams' school, also, was nearly unani- mous in accepting Christ. It was a season long to be remembered by the people in these wild, poor mountains, so far from the blessings others enjoy, and which some 112 Galax Gaxhbeers, and do not appreciate. The follies of fashion, and the dissi- pations of society have never invaded those quiet ham- lets in the Great Smokies. I did not see a single big hat or a fashionable dress. Mr. Munroe is busy pushing the chapel to completion. It is a large substantial build- ing for school and church, with rooms above for teach- ers and pupils. It has long been needed. The poor Highlanders take great pride in it, and freely give their labor, having little less to give. Other engagements compelled me to leave early Tuesday morning, and Mr. Richard James brought me a mule to ride back to Del Rio, nine miles, by his home on the Muddy Fork of Big Creek. Here I found the coziest cottage and prettiest cove I have ever yet seen in the Great Smokies, Mr. James generously offered to give fifteen acres of land, and other help from the neighbors, if we would give them better advantages of education and religion. We visited the school-house over the mountain, and found it filled with bright children, taught by a nice young lady, in a poor, open cabin, which could not be warmed. The school is to last four months, if Jack Frost does not close them out sooner, which he probably will. How can these Highland children ever get a chance to be educated under such circumstances? And they are the brightest children of the purest stock, and lots of them. On the way to Del Rio, we called at a little house by the road-side and the happy mother brought out her three boys, all of the same age (four years), named "Bob," "Taylor," "Ed" Carmack and John Cox (two governors and a senator of Tennessee). No wonder Dr. Dabney said "these Highlands are the nursery and train- ing ground of our country." No wonder their ancestors New Chai'el at Ebemezek School At Hell-i'ok-.Saktix Seetoheb or the American niaHLAin>SB8. IIS won the battles of King's Mountain and New Orleans. Wc need these Highlanders to leaven the great influx of foreigners, seven millions of whom entered our coun- try in the last ten years. That night found me at Mor- ristown, where I stayed with Dr. McConnell, at Brother Converse's hospitable home, after inspecting the Doctor's splendid new church, which appeared magnificent, when I remembered the poor cabins of the Great Smokies. Seven o'clock the next morning I took the train to Wa- tauga Hills, where I met Rev. R. F. King, the faithful bishop of the "Forks," where he has built a nice church on the spot where I preached some years ago to the people seated on the ground. Here I also met the veterans of our society, Mr. and Mrs. Parmelee, who, ten years before, to the day, entered the Soul Winners' work in "Bloody Breathitt" County, in the Kentucky Cumberlands. "Though faint, they are still pursuing," helping with prayers and pen. His cause, for whom they left their home in New York and Connecticut many years ago. For them, and all these self-denying missionaries, we beg the help of your prayers and alms. They are worthy of both. They labor in the "regions beyond" churches and preachers, with no hope of reward but the approval of a good conscience, and the plaudit of the King whom they serve. A FLYING VISIT. A brief account of a hurried trip to our missions in the Great Smoky Mountains may not be uninteresting. 114 Galax GathekekS, and especially to those who have so liberally sustained the work, and the workers. A fast train carried me over three hundred miles from my home, to the rushing waters of the French-Broad River, North Carolina. The same train bore to the Missionary Conference at Ashe- ville many friends from all over the South. I was sorry I could not have the pleasure of such company and en- tertainment. At Del Rio, near the North Carolina line, I left the railroad, and with Rev. Dan Little, boarded a lumber-wagon for our Ebenezer Mission. As there was no bed nor boards on the wagon, we had to ride on the axle, seven miles over a terribly bad road. I had to ride backwards, as Brother Dan was not well, and had to occupy the seat on the axle with the driver. It was a rough experience, but an old sol- dier should not complain. At Del Rio we met a warm reception by the noble ladies who conduct the Ebenezer Mission — Miss Alice Warren, assisted by Miss Rose Cunningham (lately a missionary to Cuba). These were reinforced by Miss Ella Keigwin, from Florida, who also had experience in mission work. It would be hard to find three better Christian workers. They had anti- cipated our coming, and prepared to keep us from get- ting lonesome in these Great Smoky Mountains. Appointments for preaching had been made for that night, and twice on Saturday and twice on Sunday. The people came day and night with commendable zeal, though the roads were rough, and they all had to walk. On Sunday the chapel was crowded, and many made confession of faith in the Savior. This is a splendid mission plant, of three stories, nicely furnished, the gift of Mr. Nowack, the Moravian, to the Sketches of the American Highlanders. 115 Soul Winners. Early Monday morning we started on our way to Mr. Barrows, at the Seminary of the Great Smoky Mountains. Mr. Little went on to Asheville, via Del Rio. I crossed the mountain, on a little mule, to the railroad, and walked two and a half miles on the railroad to Bridgeport. I preferred the mule and the mountain, and walk, to the axle-train to Del Rio. At Newport, Tennessee, I took the little "Pea Vine" rail- road up the Pigeon River. At Brown's, up the river about twenty miles, Mr. Barrows met me with another mule, and we climbed five hundred feet up the Great Smoky Mountain, to the seminary. Everything was greatly changed for the better, since my former visit. The large Seminary had been built, and furnished, the mission-house greatly improved, and another Grace had been added to this excellent family. They were all well, happy and busy, and nearer heaven than most of us. I reached the home at 6 P. M., Monday. At 7 P. M. the Seminary Chapel was crowded with about one hun- dred people, all of whom walked, after a hard day's work. This is the busy season here and everybody works, with no exception, even the women and children. It is an awful poor country, and so steep ; most all work is done with the hoe. The mission here is prospering, after some four years' hard work of these faithful and efficient missionaries. At six the next morning I took the train for the mission- field in Mitchell County, North Carolina. Providence sent clever John Stewart to meet me by chance, and give me a cordial welcome to his hospitable home. With only Sunday morning to give notice, the new and com- 116 Gaiax GatheeerSj aot) modious church was fall at ii A. M. Is it a wonder God loves the mountains and the mountaineers? Nearly every great event in the life of Christ is connected with some mountain, from His first sermon to His crucifixion and ascension. Three splendid North Carolina women, teachers of our missions in this county, met me at the church — Misses Bessie Knox, Mary Price and Elva Mc- Dowell. No wonder the old North State is proud of her daughters. Monday morning found me going down the rushing Estatoa, through the great gorge of the Iron Mountain to our missions on the Watauga. Here I visited those Nestors among the Soul Winners — Mr. and Mrs. Par- melee — ^who have, for six years, held forth the word of life to the neglected Highlanders of Kentucky and Ten- nessee, and who are determined to die at their post. May that day be distant. Brother King and his faithful wife met me at the station and accompanied me. I was sorry I did not have time to visit them and their field in Smoky, where they are trying to build a chapel. The congregation sat on the ground, under the Oaks, when I preached there last. At 6 A. M. the next morning I started to visit the mission of Misses Davidson and Hartwell, on Camp Creek, forty miles below, under the Great Nola Chucky Mountain. Nine miles of bad road from Greenville brought me to the mission where Miss Davidson lives and labors. Her cempanion, Miss Hartwell, had gone to Rochester, New York, to solicit funds fro help build a larger school-house and a little mission-house to live in. They are most deserving and self-denying Chris- tians, and doing a noble work among those poor peopl** Sketches of thb Ameeioait Highlandeks. 117 who live on the borderland of the world. I wish I could lend my eyes to the Christian people who read this ac- count. Then we would not need money to give a scant support to these faithful teachers, and tens of thousands of our poor countrymen would have the Gospel, and richer rewards await the faithful helpers "at the Great Day Coming." BEAR CREEK. That name is neither euphonious nor classical, but it is more. It is immortal. Like the annals of the poor, its story is short and simple. One mild September afternoon, our horses carried us over a mountain, through an unbroken wilderness, to the head of Bear Creek. Its waters divide "Bloody Breathitt" and classic Lee Counties, Kentucky. Be- tween wooded mountains, it winds its way to the Middle Fork of the Kentucky River, into which it empties its muddy waters several miles above the junction of the three rivers. It lies in the "regions beyond" ; beyond the railroads and turnpikes ; beyond the blue grass and brick houses ; beyond the churches and Sabbath schools. The only road up Bear Creek is a devious path, prob- ably not so good as when Daniel Boone killed bear and buffalo and Indians there a hundred years ago. The little "patches" of the settlers have pushed the path out of the narrow valley up on the mountain-side in many places. But Bear Creek is in "the world" — the world into which we are sent. It is peopled with "creatures" lis (Jalax G[athi!eerS^ ASrfi — the creatures to whom we are sent to "preach the Gos- pel." The old log school-house was crowded with people, inside and out, and it was as easy to preach to those outside as inside. Indeed, there was not much difference between the two sides. They had no church. Few of them have ever seen one. They had no preacher. Few of them ever passed that way. The people did not know much, but they knew they were sinners and needed a Savior, — knew they must die, and wanted a better home than the cabins on Bear Creek. So I tried to tell them of both. It was not much trouble. I did not have to read it. The text was the healing of the leper. It taught the hard doc- trines of Calvinism, of our sin and ruin, and the glorious Gospel of healing and life. They felt the disease, and saw the Great Physician, and followed the leper to His feet, sixteen of them. It was Pentecost on Bear Creek. Old men and women, young men and maidens, and little children, sought His life-giving touch, and, I be- lieve, received it. I baptized twelve of them, some of them well stricken in years. There was joy on Bear Creek and in heaven that night. An humble log-cabin nearby furnished us shelter until next day. It was the home of two women, both of whose husbands had been murdered. Their house had only one room, but their hearts were four stories high. At 10 o'clock the next morning and at four in the evening, I preached to the school-house full of eager souls. Ten miore gladly received Christ, and were bap- tized. Sketches of the American Highlanders. 119 THE MORMONS IN THE MOUNTAINS. My reply to your request to write something about the Mormons has been delayed by other matters, and the hope that more competent hands would do it. The conviction that somebody should expose this monster iniquity of the century only impels me to comply with your request. I shall have time now, only to give an outline of their origin and teachings. It would take volumes to fully set forth the history of this modern abomination. I feel confident that many of our people do not know the character of this body, nor the magnitude of the effort it is making to spread its doctrines. General Eaton (ex-Commissioner of Education of the United States) says that their missionaries are estimated to num- ber two thousand three hundred. I know they are travelling all over our land, two by two, canvassing every school district, distributing litera- ture, and preaching in public school-houses, contrary to our law, which says, "No sectarian, infidel, or immoral doctrine shall be taught in our school-houses." I have met them in the most distant and inaccessible parts of the mountains. "They compass sea and land to make one proselyte." They have more missionaries in Ken- tucky (and probably in every Southern State) than all other denominations together. They have members in every State and Territory but five, and have scores of missionaries in foreign lands, and are winning perverts to their faith by thousands. Of course, they are among the poor and ignorant classes, but they have souls, and constitute the mass of mankind. 120 Galax Gatherers, and As is well known, the founder of this sect was Joseph Smith, who was born in Vermont in 1805, but brought up in New York, at Palmyra. His mother was an igno- rant and superstitious fortune-teller, and his neighbors pronounced him "an ignorant, idle youth, given to chicken-stealing." He could not write, though he could read, and his favorite books were "Capt. Kidd, the Pirate," and "Stephen Burroughs, the Clerical Scoun- drel." How naturally his after-life took the complexion of his companions. His associates in starting his church were Sidney Rigdon, a backsliding preacher, and Parley P. Pratt, a travelling tin-peddler, all unscrupulous, cun- ning and characterless. They were followed by Brigham Young, whom Judge Goodwin (editor of the Salt Lake Tribune) describes as the "worst of men" ; intellectually he was not bright, but he was full of animal magnetism ; and though his heart was that of a sheep, there was a great deal of wolf in his forehead; possessing a stub- bornness that never yielded, and a plausible tongue. His avarice was measureless. He never looked on without coveting his neighbor's fair wife, good horse, or profit- able investments. From such a source nothing but Mormonism could proceed, and it is worthy of its parentage. The so-called "Book of Mormon" is a romance, en- titled, "The Manuscript Found," written by an invalid Congregational preacher named Solomon Spaulding, of Ohio, but never published. It gives in Biblical style a fanciful history of the Mound-builders, a people who are supposed to have preceded the Indians in the Ohio Val- ley. This manuscript fell into the hands of Smith or Rigdon (stolen probably), and was grossly altered to Sketches of the Ameeioan Highlandehs. 121 suit their purpose. This is the "Book of Mormon." The Mormon Bible is a sacreligious imitation of the Holy Bible, changed to suit the revolting doctrines of the new faith of its founders. "Joe" Smith was killed by his indignant and outraged neighbors, at Carthage, Illinois, in 1844. Pratt was killed in Arkansas in 1856 for stealing a man's wife. Rigdon was expelled from the Mormon church and given over to Satan by Brigham Young. For doctrine, the Mormon church rests on two pil- lars, polytheism and polygamy, twin relics of heathen- ism : many gods and many wives. Take these away and it falls like the temple of Dagon. Adam is the Mormon god, and all the rest of their gods were men, and became gods by practicing poly- gamy. They teach that "God, angels and men are all of one species." They teach that the Holy Ghost is a man, one of the sons of our Father and our God. I quote their own language. Their whole system is idolatrous man-worship. They teach that their gods are polygamists; that Jesus Christ had three wives. Again, their chief god changes his mind when it suits him (or them) as he did in once denouncing polygamy (in 1830) and afterwards recommending it (in 1843) to accommodate Joseph Smith. It is the fashion of their missionaries to deny these well-known facts, and especially their well-known prac- tice of polygamy. But this is of a piece of their whole system of deception in beguiling the ignorant into their net. They are "wolves in sheep's clothing." 123 Galax Gatheeees, and Rev. Dr. Wishard, of Salt Lake City, says that poly- gamy is fundamental to the system; that "it is now taught and practiced in all the tovras of Utah, where it has ever been practiced." "The assertion that polygamy is dead would produce a smile on the face of an honest Mormon." This is the recent testimony of a distin- guished clergyman who knows them well. "To live our religion is to live in polygamy," said their priest, Mc- Allister. John D. Lee, for thirty-seven years a Mormon bishop and priest, who was executed for murder, confessed that he had nineteen wives and sixty-four children. "The Mormon Saints" (they call themselves the "Lat- ter Day Saints") "have made Utah a modern Sodom, and the paradise of libertines." This is the testimony of Judge Boreman, for eight years associate judge of the Supreme bench of Utah, and before whom Bishop John D. Lee was tried before he was executed. It was Lee that led the Mountain Meadow massacre, in which more than one hundred and twenty innocent emigrants were murdered, and their property taken, in 1857. Of course, you would not expect to find truth or sobriety or other virtues in such company. So we were told that profanity and perjury are almost universal. A resident of Salt Lake City challenged any Mormion to produce a single case where a Mormon was ever cut off from his church for murder, theft, lying drunkenness, fornication, profanity, or Sabbath-breaking. Miss Mary Cort ( who taught five years in Utah) told me she never knew a Mormon who would tell the truth when it would convict another Mormon. Prof. Coyner, for many years superintendent of Salt Sketches of the Ameeioan EtiGHLANDBKS. 133 Lake Collegiate Institute, says, "Business has thrown me among all classes of society in various parts of the world, but the most profane and vulgar address I ever listened to, I heard delivered by Brigham Young, the Mormon high priest and prophet." "No pen can describe the demoralizing effect upon the young, nor adequately set forth the lack of morality on the part of a vast majority of young men and women who are brought up in connection with it. In fact, they don't seem to know what the term 'morality' means." So says Rev. Dr. McNiece, for many years pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Salt Lake City. Of course, hatred and persecution naturally belong to such a system. And from the beginning they have waged an unrelenting warfare against all others. Their creed teaches disloyalty to all civil government, and the President of the United States had to remove Brigham Young from being Governor of Utah, and ap- point a law-abiding citizen of Georgia in his place. Private murder by their "blood avengers" culminated at last in the "Mountain Meadow Massacre," when John D. Lee, a Mormon elder, with a band of Mormons and Indians, in Southern Utah, murdered, in cold blood, one hundred and twenty men, women and children, emigrat- ing from Arkansas to California. This mian, inspired by Brigham Young, was executed at last by the United States authorities, after twenty years' delay by the Mor- mons, who prevented his earlier conviction. The pen- alty for revealing the secrets of the Endowment House, where all marriages are celebrated, is "to have your throat cut from ear to ear, and your tongue torn from your mouth." 124 Galax Gathbebbs^ amId Their vindictive spirit may be learned from this ex- pression of one of their apostles, "I do pray for our enemies. I pray that God will damn them and send them down to hell." Such is the spirit of Mormonism. The degradation of Mormonism falls more heavily upon woman than upon man," says General Eaton. She is made the tool and the slave of their greed and lust. She cannot live on earth except as a concubine, nor enter heaven at all, except by marriage. "I have shed tears enough since I have been in polygamy to drown myself twice over." This is the language of a Mormon wife, of the prophet himself. Another said, "The plains from Missouri to this valley are strewn with the bones of those whom this system has killed, and the cemetery hill is full of them, but every one of these women is now wearing a martyr's crown." Is anything else necessary to damn such a system? You wonder that it could exist at all in this country of ours. But remember the great majority of its adher- ents are very ignorant and poor people, and many are foreigners, who cannot read our language; many are sincere and honest in their belief because they are en- slaved by wicked and designing teachers. But I weary you, and have no space to say anything of the tyranny of their priesthood, nor the greed of their tithing system, with an income of a million a year, and no account of it given, nor of their celestial marriages (of the living to the dead), nor their baptism for the dead, nor their doctrine of the "blood atonement" which taught that a man might be murdered to save his soul. These are some, not all, of the tenets of this monstrous Sketches or the Amesican Highlanders. 125 crime of the nineteenth century, this open sore of the world. I do not wonder that Rev. Dr. McNiece says, "Let Paganism, Judaism, Jesuitism, Protestantism and Dia- bolism be shaken up and the result is Mormonism." God's description of this abomination is found in 2 Peter ii. To his hands we confidently commit its overthrow, and pray for our country and our chilrden. SATAN AND THE MORMONS. For the information of those earnest Christians who are trying to send "the Gospel to every creature" I will give some account of an humble endeavor to preach it to our poor neighbors. On Tuesday morning, July 19th, I left my home for the mountains of Kentucky with my little daughter, Annie, and her companion, Susie Chambers, to play the organ and help in the singing. We spent the first night in Jackson, the capital of Southeastern Kentucky, and the next morning we started to the waters of the Middle Fork of the Ken- tucky River, twenty miles over the mountains. At El- katawa, a mule-team took aboard the girls and baggage, organ, tent, boxes of Bibles, tracts, etc. Mr. Moore kindly loaned me his horse, and he rode with the girls and driver, John Spicer, in the wagon. We got an early start, but had gone only a little way when one of our mules had a "spell," and fell down and rolled over in the Ijsro^ss. This operatioa he repeated 126 Galax Gatherers, and until he had consumed half a day and all of our patience, so we sent and got another mule, after walking across the mountain to the South Fork of Canoe Fork of the Middle Fork of Kentucky River. At Samuel Callahan's we found Mr. Leonard Mason, one of our "Soul Win- ners," who is laboring in that section, organizing and teaching Sabbath schools and distributing Bibles, tracts, etc. Just as we crossed the Kentucky River, a big rain caught us and poured down for an hour or two on our heads, organ, tent, and "things," but poorly protected by a wagon cover, hastily stretched on sticks. Eight miles further up this beautiful river, in the rain, brought us to Crockettsville, which we found to be a movable post- office, sometimes up the river and sometimes down. It is at present located at the mouth of Long's Creek, at Mr. Beaton's. Finding no place there for our tent, we went a mile up Long's Creek to the fork at Mr. Calla- han's. Hiere we found a Kentucky welcome and gen- erous hospitality at Edward Callahan's. They took u.