Experiences of * 
 
 BACKWOODS 
 
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 REV. dOSEPH H. HILTS 
 
 
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 MISSIONARY SOCIETY 
 
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 Methodist Mission Rooms, 
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EXPERIENCES 
 
 BACKWOODS PREACHER 
 
 FACTS AND INCIDENTS 
 
 CULLED FROM 
 
 THIRTY YEARS OF MINISTERIAL LIFE. 
 
 BY 
 
 REV. JOSEPH H. HILTS, 
 
 A Member of the Quelph Co7iference of the Methodist Church. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 TORONTO : 
 METHODIST MISSION ROOMS, 
 
 Wesley Buildings. 
 1892. 
 
Entered, according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thou- 
 sand eight hundred and eighty-seven, by Joseph H. Hilts, in the Office of the 
 Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa. 
 

 DEDICATION 
 
 TO THE HONEST TOILERS 
 
 WHO HAVE CARRIED THE BURDENS, ENDURED THE HARDSHIPS, AND 
 SUFFERED THE PRIVATIONS, OF PIONEER LIFE, 
 
 Ubls BooF? is respectfully DeMcatet), 
 
 AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF REGARD FOR THE COURAGE AND ENERGY 
 
 THAT HAVE CHANGED THE WILDERNESS INTO BEAUTIFUL 
 
 FARMS AND HOMESTEADS ; AND FOUNDED CITIES, 
 
 TOWNS AND VILLAGES UPON THE WASTE 
 
 PLACES OF OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 063 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 To WALK together in harmony two must be agreed. This 
 is Bible sentiment, and it is as applicable to going through 
 a book as it is to walking along a country road or a city 
 street. 
 
 But no two independent thinkers can reasonably expect 
 to see exactly alike in every particular. The best thing 
 that they can do is to agree to differ without alienation or 
 contention. 
 
 In writing the following pages I have stated many facts 
 and incidents. For the substantial truthfulness of every 
 line I can vouch without any misgivings. But 1 have also 
 given my opinions on a variety of things. Of the correctness 
 of these you must judge for yourself. 
 
 You will find some things that will not suit you ; and 
 you will say things that would not suit me, if I could 
 hear them. So that in the matter of fault-finding we will 
 come out about even. 
 
 But, on the other hand, you will find some things that 
 you will like, and you will say some things that I would 
 like, if I could hear them. So that in the matter of appre- 
 ciation and approval we may reckon ourselves to be about 
 even also. 
 
VI TO THE KEADER. 
 
 Now, with this understanding at the start, you may 
 safely commence the perusal of the book, and I hope that 
 in going through it you will have a pleasant time, and that 
 we will be no less friends when we part at the conclusion 
 of your task than we were at the beginning of it. 
 
 The book has been written almost entirely from memory, 
 and in calling upon that faculty to furnish the materials 
 that fill the following pages, I have found some difficulty in 
 determining what to select and what to exclude, as I could 
 not find room for all the matter presented by that faithful 
 recorder of passing events. 
 
 I have made no effort to produce a sensational volume ; 
 
 nor have I attempted anything like fine writing. I simply 
 
 tried to write so as to avoid dulness on the one hand and 
 
 frivolity on the other. How far I have succeeded in doing 
 
 this you must decide, and for that decision I wait with 
 
 some solicitude. 
 
 J. H. H. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. — Preliminary 9 
 
 Going to the Bush— The Little Shanty— Serenaded by Wolves— First 
 Pastoral Visit — A Bear Hunt— Our First Schoolhouse -First 
 School — First Religious Service — The Work of John Teetzel — 
 Change of Residence — Back to our Bush Home — My Sister, 
 Brother and Mother Die — Nearly Trapped — The Stepmother — 
 Teaching School— Married— Class-Leader— Wonderful Escape. 
 
 II.— Filling Appointments 32 
 
 How I Filled my First Appointment— How I Got Embarrassed— Into 
 the Ministry — Hunting more Work — Into the Mud — Crabbed Old 
 Man— Gettmg into the Fog — Too many Fishes — A Bear in the 
 Way — Trying to Walk a Pole — Finding a Relative — Losing a 
 Definition— He Would Not Tell— Meeting an Old Acquaintance. 
 
 III.— Changing Locations 57 
 
 Our First Move— Stuck in the Mud— Our Second Move— Rain, Flood 
 aiKl Mire— Impassable Roads— Move to Teeswat«r— Cheap House- 
 keeping-Back to Listowel- Garafraxa Again— Mount Forest— 
 Invennay—Meaford—Thornbury— Huron District— Kincardine 
 — Streetsville, 
 
 IV. — Going to Conference 80 
 
 Brotherly Inquisition —Modes of Travel— Going to Ingersoll— A Fallen 
 Minister— An Ishmaelite— A Blasphemer Silenced— A Man of 
 Note — Bad News heard at Conference. 
 
 v.— Camp-Meetings 97 
 
 My First Experience of Them — Mono Camp-Meeting — Melville Camp- 
 Meeting — In the Pinery — She Wanted the Gaelic — Effectual 
 Singing — Meeting at Rockwood — Series of Camp-Meetings— 
 Hanover— A Brotherly Presbyterian— A Happy Dutchman- 
 Wild Talk— The Mark of Cain. 
 
 VI. — Revival Meetings 121 
 
 My First Revival— Cotton's Schoolhouse— John Conn's House— 
 Esson's Schoolhouse— An Old Sinner Saved— A Whole Family 
 Converted — A Bigoted Young Preacher. 
 
 VII. — Revival Meetings Continued .... 140 
 
 Thornbtiry as it used to be— Children's Prayer-Meeting — Almost 
 Lost, but Saved — McColman's Schoolhouse— Kinlough Api)oint- 
 ment— My Last Revival— Hard Work— A Wandering Star— A 
 P^af Reporter — A Broken-down Man, 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 VIII.— Floods and Bridges 165 
 
 A Risky Drive— A Shaky Bridge— A Big Basin— A Floating Corduroy 
 — An Involuntary Dive. 
 
 IX. — Storms and Snowdrifts 183 
 
 A Day of Needless Fears — Over Covered Fences — A Four-mile Drift — 
 Missing the Way— Bad Harness and Saw-logs— Snowdrifts versus 
 Wedding Bells— A Day to be Remembered— Teamsters Badly 
 Beaten— The Will Makes a Way— A Message that Never Was 
 Sent — A Frost-bitten Official. 
 
 X. — With the Sick and Dying 204 
 
 He Would Not be so Mean — Almost Fatally Deceived — No Getting 
 Away— She did not Die then— End of a Wild Career— Saved at 
 the Eleventh Hour— A Doctor's Needless Fears— Fear of Death 
 all Gone— A Mother's Last Conversation— A Night of Sorrow — 
 A Mistaken Doctor — Deaths by Accident — Died in a Well — Read 
 his own Funeral Text — Choke-damp Killed Them. 
 
 XI. — Traces of the Traffic 230 
 
 He Wanted a Fiddler— She did not Know what Ailed the Baby— A 
 Baby in the Snow — Thirty-six Instances of the Traffic's Work. 
 
 XII. — Fighting the Dragon 250 
 
 Fearful School Trustees— An Ex-Reeve in Trouble— The Same Man 
 Again— They Wanted only Logic— A Mass Meeting— Parliament- 
 ary Committee— Officers of the Law— Judges on the English 
 Bench — An English Brewer on the Subject. 
 
 XIII. —At Weddings 273 
 
 My First and Only Wedding— My Wife's Grey Hairs— Three Fright- 
 ened Ones— In Too Much of a Hurry— He Bought Her a Thimble 
 — A Question of Finance — A Tangled Question — A Strange 
 Bridegroom — A Queer Bridegroom — Manly Hotel-keepers — A 
 Wife for Six Brooms— Matrimonial Blunders. 
 
 XIV. — Doctors and Doctoring - - - - - 294 
 
 A Severe Trial— Surgery — Under Chloroform— Removal to Kincar- 
 dine—Affliction and Bereavements— Another Breakdown — 
 Removal to Streetsville — More Surgery — Critical Periods — 
 P^amily Afflictions— Three to Care For— A Dislocated Joint— 
 A Broken Bone. 
 
 XV. — Remembered Kindness 313 
 
 A Generous Irishman— Our First Surprise Party— A Thoughtful 
 Friend— A Pleasant Send Off— What No One Expected— Help 
 when Needed — Another Surprise — A Birthday Present — A Re- 
 luctant Removal — Owen Sound Conference. 
 
 XVI. — Life on the Rail 335 
 
 Conductors— Passengers— Incidents of Travel — A Cranky Old Woman 
 — Medley of Song. 
 
 XVII. — Change and Progress .---.- 349 
 
 In the Coimtry— In Society— In Education— In the Church— Irj 
 Doipestig I^ife— Towps, etc, 
 
(Expaiences oi a ^rtckliioxitis |3vcaclter 
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 PRELIMINARY. 
 
 ONLY a few biographies are worth the time spent 
 in either writing or reading them. To make 
 that kind of literature a success it requires an extra- 
 ordinary subject to write about, and a first-class genius 
 to do the writing. When one of these factors is 
 wanting, any attempt to produce a work of that sort 
 will almost certainly end in disappointment and vexa- 
 tion. The cartloads of " biographies," partly fiction 
 and partly something worse, that are thrown upon the 
 market and read by both old and young, are useful 
 only as indicators. The fact that they find readers 
 goes to prove that people are fond of facts and inci- 
 dents. 
 
 But much of this kind of writing is like garments 
 made without any measurement. They can be made 
 to hang on almost any one, but they will really /i^ no- 
 body, Just so the descriptions of life given in many 
 
10 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 of these books are mere distortions as compared with 
 the real, active, every-day doings of living humanity. 
 To magnify or minify either the virtues or vices of 
 men and women is not to give correct views of indi- 
 vidual or social life. 
 
 But while all this is true, there are many incidents 
 in almost any lengthened life that are of sufficient 
 importance to deserve a record. 
 
 In this chapter I propose to relate a few incidents in 
 my own life before I commence to give the experiences 
 that I have had as a minister in the backwoods. 
 
 I was born in the township of Clinton, in the county 
 of Lincoln, Upper Canada, May fourth, eighteen hun- 
 dred and nineteen. My parents were both children of 
 U. E. Loyalists, so that on both sides I claim descent 
 from those whose loyalty cost them something, and 
 whose attachment to Britain and her institutions led 
 them to leave good homes in the States and come into 
 the wilderness of Canada to make new homes for 
 themselves, w^here, under the protection of the British 
 flag, they might be safe, and under the shade of the 
 maple leaf they might be contented. 
 
 My father did military duty during the last year of 
 the war of eighteen hundred and twelve, and at the 
 close of the war he was granted land in what was then 
 called the neiv purchase, on the north of Lake Ontario. 
 
 When I was a few weeks past three years old my 
 parents moved to their home in the wilderness, it being 
 on the last lot in the ninth concession of the township 
 of Esquesing, in the county of Hal ton. The home 
 consisted of a log shanty that my father had put up 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 11 
 
 the summer previous, and about an acre of clearing 
 that had been done at the same time. 
 
 Among the first things that I can remember is look- 
 ing at the shanty the day that we arrived. It seemed 
 to me that it was a strange-looking house, with its 
 
 PlONBERS AT WORK. 
 
 bark roof and stick chimney and floor of hewed logs, 
 and its door of split cedar, and its one light of glass 
 for a window. But that little unpretentious building 
 was our home for several years. At that time I had a 
 little younger sister and a baby brother two months 
 old. They have both gone over to the great company 
 
12 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 on the other side of the river. The sister went more 
 than fifty years ago, and brother within the last few 
 months. My father had a brother who had settled the 
 year before on an adjoining lot, and another brother 
 came in the following year and settled near by, so that 
 his life in the new country was not so lonesome as it 
 otherwise would have been. 
 
 Not long after we had got settled in our new home, 
 one evening about sundown we were treated to an 
 impromptu chorus by some of the denizens of the for- 
 est, which was, in hunter's language, the howling of a 
 pack of wolves. To describe the peculiar music made 
 by "a pack of wolves" would be too much for the 
 genius of a Dickens or the poetic power of a Scott. 
 
 To one who never heard the sound before, the im- 
 pression would likely be that the noise came out of 
 the ground. At first he hears a plaintive tone, as if 
 low down on the minor scale. Then it seems to ascend 
 step by step until the highest major notes are reached. 
 And, what seems most strange of all, is that the lower 
 tones do not cease as the higher are produced ; but they 
 continue right on until the listeners hear sounds that 
 represent every note on the musical scale, from the 
 lowest minor to the highest major, including all the 
 transpositions. 
 
 My father was a blacksmith by trade, and he had 
 brought some of his tools with him, and among the 
 rest an anvil. When the wolves commenced to make 
 the woods vocal with their musical efforts, father 
 thought that he would give them as much of a surprise 
 as they had given us. So he loaded up the anvil with 
 
PRELIMINARY. 13 
 
 a heavy charge of powder, and set it off with a coal 
 that he held with a pair of tongs. The noise produced 
 by the firing of that anvil was, perhaps, the most 
 startling sound that had ever awakened the echoes of 
 these forest wilds. When the anvil went oft* at first 
 the report seemed to pass away, but as the sound 
 struck the wall of the tall forest trees that surrounded 
 the little clearing it seemed to be broken into fragments 
 which came back to us like a thousand distinct echoes. 
 But the wolves seemed frightened, and we heard no 
 more of them for that time. It was not long, however, 
 before they made their presence known in a more tan- 
 gible way than by making a noise. My father brought 
 some cattle with him. One was a nice heifer two 
 years old. One morning just outside of the clearing 
 the bones of the heifer were found picked by the 
 wolves. The first settlers often lost their cows and 
 young cattle in this way. And for some years the life 
 of a sheep was worth nothing, unless kept in an 
 inclosure with a fence so high that a wolf could not 
 get over it. 
 
 And the black bears were by no means scarce in the 
 locality, as more than one empty pig-pen bore its tes- 
 timony in the early days of the settlement. I might 
 relate almost any number of " bear stories " if it would 
 be desirable to do so, but I will relate one at all events. 
 One of my uncles had left the place that he first 
 located on, and had gone on a lot a mile and a half 
 away from any house right into the solid bush. One 
 morning about the break of day the loud squealing of 
 a pig awakened him. He had two nice pigs in a pen 
 
14 EXPERIENCES 01" A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 near his house, and it was one of these that was 
 making the noise. He ran out in a hurry to see what 
 was the matter. He saw a large black bear clamber- 
 ing out of the pen and dragging one of the pigs after 
 it. He picked up a handspike and began to belabour 
 the bear with such force that it dropped the pig which 
 was almost dead, and ran off towards the woods. My 
 uncle put the pig upon a shed, and started to get help 
 to catch the bear. By nine o'clock he returned with a 
 lot of men, and dogs, and guns, which belonged to a 
 sort of Club that had been formed for hunting bear 
 and wolves. When they came they found that bruin 
 had returned and carried away the pig from off the 
 shed. They set the dogs on the trail, and started in 
 pursuit of the depredator. They had gone about a 
 half a mile in the woods, when they came to the place 
 where his bearship had made a hasty breakfast off 
 the stolen pork. He left the remains for more vor- 
 acious and less fastidious eaters than himself, while he 
 went on to find a safe retreat where undisturbed he 
 might enjoy his noonday snooze without molestation. 
 But the dogs soon stirred him up, and started him off 
 at a rapid rate, while by their barking they gave 
 notice to the hunters that they had found the bear. 
 
 The chase now became very lively, and from the 
 fact that the bear did not take to a tree, the inference 
 was that he was a very large one, which proved to be 
 true. After a run of three or four miles, the hunters 
 came up to the dogs, and found the bear in a small 
 pond. Part of the dogs were in the water, and the 
 bear apparently was trying to drown them by dipping 
 
t»IlELlMlNARY. 15 
 
 them under the water with his paws. The men were 
 afraid to shoot, lest they should kill the dogs, which 
 refused to leave the bear, and he as stubbornly refused 
 to come out of the water. At length, one of the men 
 took a gun loaded with two bullets, and he waded into 
 where he could place the muzzle of the gun to the 
 bear's ear and fired the whole charge into its head. 
 In a minute it was lying dead in the water. The 
 men pulled it out and found it to be a very large and 
 fat one. In skinning the carcase they found traces of 
 old bullet wounds. By following the tracks they 
 found no less than six balls, all of one size, with the 
 flesh grown up around them. It was quite evident 
 that at some time the poor brute had formed a very 
 painful acquaintance with lead, but whether it belonged 
 to white men or Indians no one could tell. But I 
 must leave the bears and wolves to themselves, and 
 write about something of more importance. 
 
 Our First Pastoral Visit. 
 
 The first minister to visit our home in the bush was 
 a Methodist by the name of Heyland. Though it was 
 more than sixty years ago, it seems as fresh in my 
 mind as if it was but a few months since. In front of 
 our shanty there was a good-sized creek, over which 
 had been made a temporary footbridge of poles to 
 walk on. One day my mother was standing in the 
 door, and seeing a man trying to feel his way over the 
 creek, she called father to go and see who it was, and 
 if he needed help. When father got to him, he found 
 that the man was near-sighted. This was why he had 
 
16 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 to feel for his way. Father assisted him over the creek, 
 and brought him into the shanty. Then the man said, 
 " My name is Heyland ; I am a Methodist minister ; I 
 am hunting for the scattered sheep in the wilderness." 
 Not understanding what he meant, I went up to mother 
 and whispered to her, " If the wolves that killed our 
 heifer find his sheep, they will not be worth much to 
 him when he finds them." She replied to me that the 
 good man did not mean sheep with wool on, but he 
 spoke of the people who were scattered in the wilder- 
 ness. Mr. Heyland had prayer, after which he talked 
 to my parents on religious subjects for a while, and 
 then after laying his hand on the head of each one of 
 us children, and devoutly asking God to bless all of us, 
 he went away to visit other families. Who can esti- 
 mate the value of such a visit. Little did Mr. Heyland 
 or my parents think, that after more than threescore 
 years, the coarse -looking, awkward boy, who then 
 stood listening to their talk, would, with a swelling 
 heart and a tear-dimmed eye, write about the visit of 
 the pioneer preacher to one of the pioneer families. 
 
 Who can even form a conjecture of the amount of 
 the influence that the Methodist preachers have exerted 
 on the social and religious life of the people of this 
 country. 
 
 They have greatly assisted in laying the foundations 
 of the social structure. They have heard almost the 
 first echoes of the woodman's axe, and they have gone 
 to encourage him in his toil. They have impressed 
 their teaching and their influence upon the hearts and 
 minds of thousands of the children of the pioneer 
 
PRELIMINARY. 17 
 
 families of this Province as no other class of men has 
 done. There can be no doubt on the question. The 
 religious element of Canadian society owes very much 
 to Methodism. 
 
 Our First School House. 
 
 About four years after the founding of the settle- 
 ment, the scattered population concluded to put up a 
 log building that would serve the double purpose of 
 school and meeting-house. They met together and 
 laid their plans, and in a few days a very comfortable 
 little house was ready for use on the corner of 
 Nathaniel Rossell's lot, where the little village of Bal- 
 linafad now stands. This same man gave a burying 
 ground, and then in after years he gave land for a 
 church and parsonage, and a piece for a temperance 
 hall. One way or another this good man gave to the 
 public, and to the Lord, nearly half of the front of one 
 hundred acres. And yet he would blush if called a 
 Christian. He was one of the modest, unassuming 
 kind of men. 
 
 After the house was up, the next thing w^as to 
 find a teacher. It was not long before an old man 
 came along and took the school for six months. His 
 name was Pitcher. He was to have a certain sum for 
 each scholar, and to board around among the people. 
 He was a widower, and he had a boy with" him named 
 Peter, who was to board along with his father, and 
 the price of his board came out of the amounts of 
 charges for scholars. 
 
 Well the school started in due time. I wish I could 
 2 
 
18 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 give a picture of that first assemblage of students in 
 Professor Pitcher's academy for young backwoods 
 hopefuls. The dominie himself was a big fat man, 
 with a florid face and a bald head. He would some- 
 times go to sleep in his home made and bark-bottom 
 chair. Then Peter would take the water-beech rod 
 out of his father s hand and keep things going till the 
 old man got through his slumbers. The subjects 
 taught were, the alphabet, spelling, reading, and the 
 first lessons in writing. That was all. 
 
 My mother had led me through the mysteries of the 
 A B C's and A B ab's, so that I was among the ad- 
 vanced students from the first. 
 
 How shall I describe the scholars. No two of them 
 were dressed alike, and scarcely any two had books 
 alike. One boy would have a hat without a rim, and 
 another boy would have one with only half a crown. 
 One girl wore a frock (so called at that time) made of 
 home made linen, and another girl had one made of 
 home made flannel, while still another would be clad 
 in " linsey-woolsey," which was a combination of the 
 two. But in that same school rosy cheeks were very 
 common, and smutty faces by no means scarce nor 
 unpopular. 
 
 If the ghost of that school could be called up in one 
 of our present well equipped high schools, what a 
 wonderful contrast would be seen. What a grand 
 illustration of the theory of evolution would be pre- 
 sented. The diflference between the school in which 
 Professor Pitcher wielded the beech rod, and the one 
 presided over by one of our learned and worthy B. A.'s, 
 
PRELIMINARY. 19 
 
 would be about as great as that between Professor 
 Darwin and the long-tailed, chattering little quadruped 
 that he claims for an ancestor. 
 
 The first religious services were held in the school 
 house soon after it was completed. Among the minis- 
 ters whose names I can still recall were Belton, Shaler, 
 Rose, Williams and Demorest. One man, whose looks 
 I remember but whose name I have forgotten, was 
 among the first after Mr. Heyland. 
 
 The meetings were held on a week day, and it was 
 surprising to see the way the people would leave their 
 work to attend Divine service. This was continued 
 for several years. 
 
 The first religious awakening was brought about in 
 a rather mysterious manner. A man named John 
 Teetzel, who lived near where Acton now is, was thrown 
 on a sick bed. He thought he was going to die. He 
 had been a wicked man. In seeking some one to pray 
 with him, he learned that in all the families for miles 
 around no one could be found to do it. He then 
 thought that he was lost. But just as he was about 
 sinking into despair, the Lord spoke peace to his soul 
 and gave him the joys of salvation. He then and there 
 pledged himself to God that he would consecrate his 
 life to l^im. And he faithfully kept his promise. 
 
 As soon as he got well, he sought out the Methodist 
 ministers, and they took him into the Church. He at 
 once commenced to hold meetings on Sabbath days 
 around in private houses. A number of persons were 
 awakened and converted. My parents were among 
 the number. For years Mr. Teetzel was a power for 
 
20 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 good in that section of the country. He long since 
 died in the full assurance of faith, and is now enjoying 
 the reward of the faithful. 
 
 The old home of my mother was now offered to my 
 father if he would move back to the old place and take 
 care of my mother's parents in their old age, and let 
 my mother's brother have our lot in the new country. 
 We went back to where I was born and stayed a little 
 less than two years. During my thirteenth year I 
 went with my father and mother to a camp meeting, 
 of which I shall have more to say in another chapter. 
 
 We went back again to our home in the bush, as my 
 father got sick of the bargain about keeping the old 
 people, on account of some meddlesome relatives who 
 were not pleased with the arrangement. On our return 
 we found that two years had made changes in many 
 ways. The roads were better, the clearings larger, old 
 neighbours were better off, and several new families 
 had come into the settlement. 
 
 My oldest sister and young brother died within a 
 year after our return. I felt the loss of these very 
 keenly. But the heaviest blow of all fell upon me in 
 the fall of 1835, when I had to look on the cold, pale 
 face of one of the best of mothers as she lay before me 
 in the calm repose of death. She had been ailing for 
 two years. The death of my sister and little brother 
 had weighed heavily upon her in her enfeebled state of 
 health. She was very anxious for a while about the 
 seven children that she was leaving behind her, of 
 v^hom I was the eldest and about seventeen, and the 
 youngest was four years old. But before she died that 
 
PRELIMINARY. 21 
 
 uneasiness all passed away. She said that in answer 
 to her prayers the Lord had given her all her children, 
 and some day they would follow her to the home above. 
 Oftentimes, amid life's clouds and storms, the remem- 
 brance of this dying declaration of a Christian mother 
 has come to me like a voice from the unseen world 
 which seemed to say, " Be strong and courageous and 
 all will come right at last." I never knew how much 
 I trusted in my mother until I stood looking into her 
 grave, and the officiating minister, a Mr. Adams, spoke 
 to me and said, " Young man, you must pray for your- 
 self now, for your mother can pray for you no more." 
 I thought that I had realized my loss before, when I 
 looked at the empty chair in which she used to sit ; 
 when I looked at my little brothers and sisters and 
 thought who will take care of them now ; when I 
 thought how still the house would be when no mother's 
 footsteps and no mother's voice would be heard any 
 more in it ; when I picked up the old Bible that lay on 
 the stand that stood near by her as she lay in her 
 coffin, and remembered that she would never touch 
 that book again, I then thought that I realized my 
 loss. But when I was told that my mother would 
 never pray for me again, it seemed to me that my 
 heart must break. I never till that moment knew just 
 what it was for a young man to face the wickedness 
 and coldness of the world without a mother s prayer. 
 And from that day to the present I never could look 
 into the face of a motherless child, either old or young, 
 and not feel pity for it. Perhaps it is a weakness, but 
 I cannot help it. 
 
22 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 In December, 1837, I came very near being caught 
 in a trap. 
 
 The air was full of rumours of war. The political 
 atmosphere seemed to be surcharged with slumbering 
 forces that only awaited the touch of an electric spark 
 to cause an explosion that would blow into a thousand 
 fragments the selfish combination that then misruled 
 the country. The family compact had been growing 
 more oppressive and tyrannical from year to year, 
 until the country was becoming exasperated and men 
 were growing desperate. 
 
 Myself and two cousins had taken a chopping con- 
 tract from a Mr. Brown, near Acton. One day a man 
 came to us and showed us a proclamation of W. L. 
 Mackenzie and held out such strong inducement that 
 we concluded to join the patriot forces that were 
 gathering for a march to Toronto. We were fully 
 persuaded that the rising was not to be against the 
 crown and government of Britain. But it was to be 
 against the wicked misgovernment of the family com- 
 pact. We left our work, and went home to get ready 
 to start for the scene of action. It is said that we 
 want " Old men for counsel and young men for war." 
 In this case, the counsellors proved to be the stronger 
 force. Our fathers soon settled the question for us 
 by telling us the nature of the enterprise we proposed 
 to engage in. They said that instead of gaining the 
 honours of war and the freedom of the country, we 
 would likely get a few feet of rope and a rebel's dis- 
 honoured grave. We went back to work feeling we 
 had come near making fools of ourselves. The next 
 
PRELIMINARY. 23 
 
 week we were called out to join the militia to go to 
 the front, and we readily obeyed the call, being willing 
 to do anything to show our loyalty to the British 
 crown and government. 
 
 Some time after the death of my mother, my father 
 married again. My mother's name was Mary Johnston. 
 His second wife was Anna Thompson. She was on 
 the whole a very good woman ; but I could not believe 
 that any good could be in a stepmother, so I soon got 
 up a quarrel with her and left home ; I never lived at 
 my father's any more. Young people often make 
 serious mistakes that they see the folly of in after life. 
 It was so with me in this. 
 
 And now commenced a course of life that I have 
 regretted very much. For a few years I yielded to 
 every bad influence and followed every inclination to 
 run into sinful ways ; I was ready for anything that 
 was respectable and not criminal. Anything that I 
 thought was mean I would not do; but that was 
 about the only restraint that I regarded except the 
 criminal law. 
 
 During these misspent years I came very near 
 being killed on different occasions through my own 
 recklessness or the carelessness of others ; but the 
 Lord's arm was about me though I knew it not, and 
 His eye watched over me though I thought not of Him. 
 He had better things in store for me than to die in sin 
 and be lost forever. I drifted about the country from 
 place to place until I was twenty-two years old. 
 Then I made up my mind to change my habits of life, 
 and seek and serve the Lord. I commenced at once 
 
24 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 and joined the Church. The people were very kind 
 to me, and although I was among strangers they took 
 an interest in my welfare. Eighteen or twenty young 
 men and women joined the Church at the time that I 
 did. The ministers who held the revival meetings at 
 the time were Revs. E. Bristol and A. Roy. One of 
 them died many years ago, and lies buried in the 
 cemetery of the old M. E. Church, in the village of 
 Brooklin. The other, Mr. Bristol, after an active and 
 very successful career in the Christian ministry, is now 
 a superannuate in the Methodist Church. 
 
 Shortly after I joined the Church, an incident oc- 
 curred which I have looked upon ever since as an in- 
 terposition of Divine Providence. 
 
 I was out of work. On the Grand river good axemen 
 were getting what at that time was looked upon as 
 big pay in the lumber woods. I and my brother con- 
 cluded to go to the shanties for the winter. We got 
 everything ready and started. When we had gone 
 four or five miles on the way we called at a house for 
 a drink of water. The man had been a lumberman, 
 and more recently a hotel-keeper. He and his wife 
 had been converted lately, and closed up the bar room, 
 and banished the liquor. When I told Mr. Guybeson 
 where we were going, he seemed to be sorry. He 
 asked me if I had ever been in a lumber shanty. I told 
 him that I had been one winter among Frenchmen in 
 the business, but that we had boarded at a farmhouse. 
 He said, "Then you know nothing about shanty life. 
 An older Christian than you are would hnd it very hard 
 to keep from backsliding in a shanty among the kind of 
 
PRELIMINARY. • 25 
 
 men that you would have for associates there. Take 
 my advice, and don't go. Better work for your board 
 part of the time and go to school the other part, than 
 to run the risk of losing your religion." Before he 
 was done speaking my decision was made to go to 
 school. That was just what I needed. It was strange 
 that I had not thought of it before. We turned about 
 and went back to where we started from. My brother 
 went to work for a farmer, chopping fallow. I soon 
 found a chance to work part of the time, and go to 
 school. The teacher was a young man from the States, 
 as was many of the teachers of that period. 
 
 My schooling had been very limited. I could read 
 and write a little, but that was all. I knew nothing 
 of arithmetic, and I had never looked inside of an 
 English grammar. I started to school with a deter- 
 mination to do all in my power to learn as much as 
 possible of everything that was taught there. I went 
 to the school about three months. When spring came 
 I had learned a good deal that I did not know before, 
 and I had formed the acquaintance of the young lady 
 who afterwards became my wife. 
 
 The next summer I worked for a man named Grout, 
 at the carpenter trade. In the fall I took the contract 
 for a large shed and stable of a Mr. Wetmore. This 
 was my first job, but I did it well, and my employer 
 was well pleased. Part of the pay I took in board, 
 and went to school again the next winter till the 
 month of March. 
 
 A new school was started in the township of Caistor. 
 I was invited to take that school. After consultation 
 
26 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 with my teacher and others, I engaged for twelve 
 months. When I commenced the school, on the 18th of 
 March, 1843, the snow was very deep on the ground. 
 The Millerites were proclaiming the end of the world. 
 The snow was to turn to pitch, and then catch fire, 
 and this old earth would be turned to ashes. Many 
 people were nearly frightened out of their wits by these 
 alarmists. My school succeeded nicely, and I thought 
 of adopting school teaching permanently. But that 
 was not to be. 
 
 On the 22nd of August, 1843, 1 was married to E. J. 
 Griffin, of the township of Grimsby. She was one of 
 a large connection of Griffins that hails from Smith- 
 ville, which gets its name from its founder Smith 
 Griffin, who in his day was a very prominent man 
 in that community. I expect it will be conceded 
 without debate that the greatest of the Griffins yet 
 seen is the Rev, W. S. Griffin, D.D., who is now 
 President of the Guelph Conference. But I am of the 
 opinion that the best Griffin is the one that has been 
 looking after me and my affairs for the past forty- 
 three years. 
 
 I spoke of the Millerites. Well, I had some experi- 
 ence on that subject. My arrangements with the 
 trustees were that I should " board around." I was 
 staying at the time with the family of Mr. Jacob Kerr. 
 We had been talking about the excitement that the 
 Millerites were causing in many parts of the country. 
 This was on Tuesday night. The next Friday was the 
 day fixed upon for the burning of the world. Mr. Kerr 
 and I came to the conclusion that to a Christian there 
 
PRELIMINARY. 27 
 
 was no cause for alarm, inasmuch as being prepared 
 for death he was ready for the end of the world, or 
 anything else that could possibly happen. 
 
 We had prayer and went to bed. I had not been 
 long in bed when a man came to me with a roll of 
 papers in his hand. Whether I was awake or asleep 
 I cannot tell. The man unrolled one of the papers and 
 held it up before me and began to explain a number of 
 dates in it. It was from the prophecy of Daniel, and 
 it made time run out on the next Friday. Then he 
 opened the other roll which was from the Book of 
 Revelation, and by a similar mode of interpretation it 
 was seen that time would die and all the prophecies 
 end on the next Friday. He rolled up his papers and 
 then said, " It will surely come." At once he disappeared. 
 After the man was gone I considered for a ^hile and 
 then resolved to go and tell everybody what I saw, that 
 the world would end on Friday. I got up and dressed 
 myself, intending to start right out and give the 
 alarm. I had my hand on the door-latch to go out. 
 Just then a thought came into my mind that stopped 
 me. The thought was this : God does not ask unrea- 
 sonable things. This may be all a mistake. If God 
 wants me to go and give the alarm. He will give me 
 other proofs of the fact. I knelt beside the bed and 
 prayed for further light. Soon the agitation of my 
 mind passed away. I went to bed again and slept 
 soundly till morning. I saw no more, and I heard no 
 more. You ask me what it was ? I can't tell. To 
 me at the time it seemed just as real as anything that 
 I had ever seen before, or anything that I have seen 
 
28 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 since. Call it hallucination, phantom, illusion, or 
 dream — call it what you like — I know it nearly upset 
 me at the time. But the world did not burn up 
 and if I am not greatly astray in regard to the 
 unfulfilled prophecies, especially the little two-horned 
 beast and the big ten-horned beast of Revelation, 
 the Irish Home Rule and the Land Questions will 
 have to come to a settlement, and many other abuses 
 that the two beasts have imposed on the world must be 
 removed before that event takes place. Society will 
 see many mighty changes before the end of the world 
 — changes that it may take centuries to accomplish. 
 
 About nine months after I joined the Church, I was 
 appointed leader of the class that I belonged to. 
 
 This was a great cross to me. I was young in years 
 and young in the Church, and it seemed to me that 
 there was not a man in the class but was better fitted 
 for the place than I was. As an illustration of my 
 weakness as a Christian worker at that time the fol- 
 lowing fact is given. While I was working with Mr. 
 J. C. Grout, I boarded with him. He was a local 
 preacher, and belonged to the same class that T did. 
 One morning, at breakfast time, he gave me the Bible 
 and told me to read and pray. I had never done it 
 before. I took the book and began to read. Before I 
 was done reading an old man in the neighborhood 
 came into the house. This frightened me. I finished 
 the reading and we all kneeled in prayer. Something 
 came over me so that I could not utter a single word. 
 It seemed to me that if the salvation of the world 
 depended on it that morning, I could not pray. The 
 
PRELIMINARY. 29 
 
 sweat ran off me like rain, and I trembled in every 
 nerve. We remained on our knees for a while and 
 then got up without a word of vocal prayer being 
 uttered. This incident has often recurred to me when 
 I have had to deal with timid young people. Mr. 
 Grout gave me some wholesome counsel when we were 
 at our work, and I told him I would try again, which 
 I did and succeeded better. Within a month after this, 
 when a vacancy occurred, Mr. Grout nominated me for 
 class-leader and I was put in. I continued to lead that 
 class for thirteen years, and then I left the locality. 
 
 Before my time was out in the school that I had 
 taken, my health began to fail, so much so that I was 
 forced to resign the school two weeks before the ex- 
 piration of the time that I had engaged for. 
 
 My wife called in a doctor. He said that I had 
 studied too hard, and he forbade me to look into a book 
 for three months. He told me that I must give up the 
 idea of teaching. He said in my case the mental and 
 physical energies were not sufficiently well balanced to 
 bear the strain of a teacher's life, shut up in a school 
 room. He advised me to adopt a calling that would 
 give me plenty of outdoor exercise. He left me medi- 
 cine, and I got better after a while. Then I bought 
 some tools and went to work as a carpenter in the sum- 
 mer, and in the winter I worked at cooper work or any 
 thing that came in my way that I could do. The 
 result was that I never wanted for a day's work, and 
 my family never wanted for food or clothing. 
 
 After ten years of married life I found myself the 
 owner of twenty-five acres of good land, nearly paid 
 for, a good frame cottage and good frame shop, and 
 
30 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 about four hundred dollars' worth of tools and other 
 things of use about the place. When we started we 
 had not more than one hundred dollars, all told. 
 
 But now we met with a drawback. One day wjien 
 I was from home a young man was working in the 
 shop, and by some means it caught fire and burned up, 
 with all my tools and a lot of work and a large amount 
 of seasoned stuff. On my way home I met a man who 
 told me of my loss. " But," said he, " you will not be 
 left to bear it all alone. The neighbours are going to 
 help you. They are out in two directions already 
 seeking help." When I got home I found the smoking 
 ruins of the results of my toil and my wife's economy 
 and care. When night came the men returned, and it 
 was found they had gotten about one hundred and 
 twenty dollars to help me to buy new tools. But 
 much as I prized the money, I thought more of the 
 spirit that prompted this kind act on the part of my 
 neighbours than I did of it. My two nearest neighbours 
 were the largest givers on the list, namely, Robert 
 Miller and Martin Halstead. 
 
 One more incident and I will close this chapter. I 
 was hewing barn timber for Mr. A. P. Buck bee. We 
 had been at it for some days, and we were just finish- 
 ing up the job. The men had got the scoring all done 
 and were standing around looking at me. I was at 
 the last side of the last stick of timber, and within a 
 few strokes of being done. 
 
 I was doing my best so as not to keep the others 
 waiting. All at once Price Buckbee spoke to me sharp 
 and quick, saying, " Hilts, take care." I at once dropped 
 the broadaxe and sprang backwards. That spring 
 
PRELIMINARY. 31 
 
 saved my life — at least it saved me from a fearful hurt. 
 Before I had time to look up a large limb fell from the 
 top of a tall pine tree, and struck and broke in two on 
 the piece of timber right where I had been hewing. 
 It was about ten feet long and as thick as a large hand 
 pry. If I had tried to straighten up I should have 
 met the falling limb. If I had moved forward 1 could 
 not have gotten out of the way in time. The only 
 possible way of escape, as we all concluded afterwards, 
 was by the very unusual course of jumping backward. 
 When I looked at the men after the danger was over 
 it seemed to me that their faces were nearly as white as 
 the paper on which I am writing. The first one to speak 
 was Mr. Buckbee. He was not at that time a religious 
 man. But I never have and I never can forget the 
 expression of his face and tones of his voice as he said 
 with solemnity, "Mr. Hilts, you may thank God that 
 you are alive this minute. It must have been He 
 that prompted me to look up just in time. It must 
 have been He that helped me to put the warning in 
 the shortest possible sentence, and it must have been 
 He that prompted you to jump backward as you did 
 and not stop to look up to see where the danger was." 
 I could not understand it then. But now I think I 
 do. God had something else for me to do in the world 
 beside hewing timber and framing barns. 
 
 It would give me pleasure to dwell longer on my 
 experiences in the locality where I spent so many days 
 in comparative comfort. But this chapter is long 
 enough, and I must close it. Two years after the shop 
 was burnt we left that place, and in two years more I 
 went into the ministry. 
 

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 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 
 
 THE phrase "filling an appointment" is very closely- 
 associated with our itinerant plan of supplying 
 our people with the means of grace. The Roman 
 Catholic holds high or low mass. The English Church 
 holds Divine service. The Presbyterian holds a diet of 
 worship. The Quaker has a meeting. But the Metho- 
 dist fills an appointment. These others do work mostly 
 laid out for them by the officials of the Churches to 
 which they belong ; but the Methodist preacher has 
 much to do with laying out his own work, and making 
 his own appointments. 
 
 It is true that he has a certain field to cultivate, a 
 given territorjT- to work over ; but how often he is to 
 preach, and when and where he will do so, are matters 
 that very largely depend on his own decision. 
 
 In talking about filling appointments, two things 
 have to be considered. The Indian said that the first 
 thing to be done in cooking a rabbit is to catch it ; 
 so the first part of filling an appointment is to get to 
 it. In the past Methodist ministers have done most 
 of their getting around on horseback, or in the cuttei* 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 33 
 
 and buggy. Perhaps no class of honest men, are more 
 attached to their horses, than are the Methodist 
 preachers, especially those of them who are kept for 
 a long time on country circuits. Often his horse is to 
 him at once a piece of property, a servant, a guide, a 
 conveyance and a friend. It is no wonder that the 
 circuit rider becomes attached to his horse, while so 
 much of his comfort and usefulness depends on that 
 mute assistant. 
 
 But I did not start to write an essay on horses. 
 Filling appointments is the theme of this chapter. 
 Well, let me see, my first appointment was a long time 
 ago. It was in this wise : in the class that I first be- 
 longed to, there were twenty-five or thirty young 
 people. We arranged for a weekly young people's 
 prayer meeting, to be led by the young men, each in 
 his turn. A list of names was made out, and we took; 
 our turn in the order in which our names were on the 
 list. My name was near the bottom, so that I had a 
 chance to see how most of the young men got along 
 before my time came. 
 
 Well do I remember when the leader at one meeting 
 stated that my name came next, so that I would be 
 expected to lead the meeting of the following week. 
 That week seemed to pass away with a rapidity that 
 was truly astonishing. The days, it seemed to me, 
 fl;ew by with more than railroad speed. When the 
 eventful day came round, I was, as an Irishman would 
 say, on swither. I was sorely tempted to go away 
 somewhere, so as to be out of the neighbourhood ; but 
 then, when I remembered how promptly the other 
 
34 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 young men had taken their turn, I felt ashamed of 
 myself for having even thought of running away. I 
 resolved to stay and do the best that I could, no 
 matter how hard the task might be. No sooner had I 
 come to this decision, than I felt my heart full of 
 peace and joy. I look back to that event, trivial as it 
 may seem, as one of the turning points in my life. If 
 I had run away from my duty then, there is no telling 
 what my after life would have been. Before my turn 
 came round again, a new class-leader was needed, 
 and I was appointed leader of the class, which position 
 I held until I left the settlement twelve years after- 
 ward. 
 
 How I Got Embarrassed, 
 
 My first appointment as an exhorter was in the house 
 of a farmer named Daniel Burkholder, who lived in the 
 township of Caistor. It was the first time that I went 
 away from my own class to hold meeting ; to me it 
 was an event of great importance. I had frequently 
 been solicited by the preachers to try holding forth as 
 an exhorter ; but up to that time I declined to do so, 
 fearing that I should only make a failure of it, but I 
 had at last consented, and the appointment had been 
 made for me. 
 
 At that time there was an old exhorter by the name 
 of Cable, who lived on Mud Street, near Tapleytown. 
 He was one of the old-fashioned shouting Methodists ; 
 a regular little hurricane and thunderstorm twisted 
 together. Well, I got him to go with me to the ap- 
 pointment. It was a beautiful Sabbath morning in 
 the month of Juna 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 35 
 
 When we were going through a piece of bush, Mr. 
 Cable proposed that we should have a prayer-meeting 
 all to ourselves, as a preparation for the work before 
 us. We spent some ten minutes in this way, and then 
 went on to the place. When we got to Mr. Burk- 
 holder's house, it was crowded with people and a lot 
 outside that could not get in. By dint of much elbow- 
 ing we got inside the door. I had once taught school 
 in that section, and nearly all the people were there to 
 hear their old schoolmaster. 
 
 I commenced the meeting by giving out the hymn, 
 beginning with " Come, sinners, to the gospel feast." 
 The singing was all that could be desired. Who ever 
 knew singing not to be good when there were half a 
 dozen Burkholders in the audience ? But while they 
 were singing a thought came into my mind like this : 
 " If any sinner expects a gospel feast this morning, he 
 will be greatly disappointed." This nearly upset me. 
 Brother Cable engaged in prayer. O, how I wished 
 that I had his talent I But I -consoled myself with the 
 thought that human responsibility and human possi- 
 bility are always equal. We are not expected to do 
 what is beyond our strength and ability. I read a 
 part of a chapter and we sang another hymn. Then 
 came the supreme moment. When the last line was 
 ringing in my ears, like an expiring echo, I found my- 
 .;elf standing alone, and all the rest of the people seated. 
 This has always been to me the trying moment. 
 
 I commenced to talk to the people. But I got 
 bewildered, so that I could hardly tell what I was say- 
 ing. This feeling increased till I got into such a state 
 
36 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 of mental disturbance that I could scarcely distinguish 
 one person from another. Sometimes the faces of the 
 people around me would seem to be as big as barrel 
 heads, and then they, would dwindle down till they 
 looked no larger than the bottoms of tea-cups. In this 
 way I went on for ten or fifteen minutes. Then I 
 called my friend Mr. Cable to take the meeting off my 
 hands. Just then I felt that I would never attempt 
 the like again. But I did try again and again. And 
 I have kept on trying till the present time. But I 
 have never got over those times of nervousness, and I 
 never expect to. 
 
 Thrown into a Mud-hole. 
 
 The first year I was on the Garafraxa Circuit, there 
 was an appointment on the twelfth line, at the house 
 of John Taylor. One Sunday afternoon I was on my 
 way there I met with a mishap that might have been 
 a serious aftair ; but the way it turned out was more 
 amusing than sad. There was a piece of woods to go 
 through, and in the woods was a deep mud-hole. My 
 horse was one that would never go on a walk, either 
 in harness or under the saddle. He had run in a circus 
 ring three or four years, which I suppose was the 
 reason of his objecting to walk. 
 
 Well, I was going through this piece of bush. My 
 horse was trotting along, and I was singing, 
 
 *' Jesus, my all, to Heaven is gone, 
 The way is so delightful. Hallelujah." 
 
 All of a sudden my horse got his feet tangled up in 
 some way, and fell right into the middle of the mud. 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 37 
 
 When I came to realize the condition of things, I found 
 myself lying just in front of the horse, and on my back, 
 in the mire. My first thought was, that when he got 
 up he would likely jump on me before I could get out 
 of his way. But when he got up he turned on his 
 hind feet and went off on one side, and started into the 
 woods as fast as he could run. 
 
 I gathered myself up as quick as I could and ran 
 after the horse, which was soon out of sight. While I 
 was wondering where he would go to, I looked in the 
 direction he went and saw him coming towards me at 
 the top of his speed. When he saw me he ran up and 
 placed his chin on my shoulder — a thing he often did 
 when in the field. He seemed to be pleased to see me 
 all right. 
 
 When I took a look at myself, I could not refrain 
 from laughing at the ludicrous figure that I presented. 
 Such a specimen of clerical humanity, clad in a mix- 
 ture of mud and broadcloth, and booted with a com- 
 bination of black mud and leather, and hatted with an 
 old-time beaver, in alliance with an aqueous formation 
 of decayed foliage, it would be impossible to find in a 
 part of the country where mud and leaves are only 
 found in limited supply. 
 
 I went along till I came to a creek. I tied the horse 
 to a tree, and waded into the water, and washed off" all 
 the mud that I could. Then I went on, about a mile 
 further, to the appointment. When I got there I found 
 the house full of people, waiting for me, as I was about 
 half an hour late. 
 
 The way that they stared at me when I went into 
 
38 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 the house convinced me that there was no use in try- 
 ing to get them to listen to preaching unless an expla- 
 nation was first given. I told the audience what had 
 occurred and then went on with the service. 
 
 Hunting More Work. 
 
 Some time after I went to Garafraxa Circuit, Mr. 
 John Taylor told me that there was a new settlement 
 in the township of Luther, where there was no preach- 
 ing of any kind. He oflfered to conduct me through 
 about three miles of solid bush, and show me some of 
 the inhabitants. After we got through to the first 
 clearing, Mr. Taylor left me to make my own way. 
 
 I went to the shanty that stood near the road, and 
 made some inquiries. I found four or five women 
 there, helping a neighbour at some kind of sewing. 
 Presently I told them who I was and what I wanted, 
 and asked them if they thought any one in the settle- 
 ment would open his house for preaching. The 
 women said they would be very glad to have some 
 kind of religious meetings on Sabbath, as the people 
 were getting wild for want of it ; but none of them 
 had a house at all suitable. But they all agreed that 
 the best place to have meeting would be at "Sam 
 Graham's," as he had the largest house and it would 
 be most central. 
 
 They directed me which way to go, and I started to 
 hunt up Mr. Graham. When I had gone about a mile 
 further I came to his clearing, which was a large one 
 for a new country. I found him at work in the fields, 
 I told him who I was, and what I was after. 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 39 
 
 He Said, " I am glad that you have come. Any one 
 with a Protestant Bible in his hand is welcome to my 
 house for a preaching-place. I am a Presbyterian, but 
 that makes no difference in the case." 
 
 I made arrangements to preach in his house once 
 every fortnight on Sabbath. The first time I went 
 there, I found the house full of about as hardy-looking 
 men and women as could be found anywhere. The 
 most of them were in the early prime of life. They 
 were just the sort of population to successfully cope 
 with the hardships of pioneers. 
 
 When I looked over the congregation that morning, 
 I saw three persons that I knew. They had been 
 among my young associates in days gone by. Though 
 eighteen years had passed since I last saw them, yet 
 I knew them. Our last time of seeing each other was 
 at a dance. But now, after eighteen eventful years, 
 we meet again, in a back settlement, as Christians, to 
 worship God together. [If Mr. and Mrs. Beals and Mr. 
 Boomer should ever see these lines, they will endorse 
 the statements, and I hope also excuse this personal 
 reference to them.] 
 
 What a mercy that God, who forgives penitent, 
 believing sinners, will forgive dancers also — even 
 though one of the light-heeled tribe, by her artful 
 gyrations, did once fascinate a wicked king and kick 
 the head off a holy man. 
 
 So far as was known, the sermon that Sabbath 
 morning was the first one ever delivered in the town- 
 ship. Now the centre of Grand Valley Circuit, in the 
 Guelph Conference, is not far from this place. 
 
40 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 "A Crabbed Old Man." 
 
 Myself and Pascal Knox and William Woodward 
 were once going to a missionary meeting at a place 
 called Mayne, in the township of Wallace. In going 
 from the boundary across to the place, it being dark, 
 we got on the wrong road. We came to a shanty on 
 the roadside. I went in to make enquiries as to our 
 whereabouts, and the proper direction to take. 
 
 I found an old couple living there alone. When I 
 asked the way to Mayne, the old man wanted to know 
 what I was going there for — thinking that I was a 
 doctor. On my explaining that I was going there to 
 a missionary meeting, he said in angry tones of voice, 
 "Are you not a Methody preacher ?" I said, " Yes, sir : 
 there are three of us, and we have by some means got 
 out of our latitude." " Well, I hope the Lord will 
 head ye's off at every turn. I don't like a thing about 
 these kind o' people," said the old man spitefully. 
 
 I said to him, " Mister, I did not come in to hear 
 about the Methodists, for I know a great deal more 
 about them than you do," and I turned to go, telling 
 him that we would try and find our way without his 
 help. 
 
 The old lady followed me to the door, saying, " Do 
 not mind him. He is just a crabbed old creature, 
 troubled wdth rheumatics, and he is so cross that I can 
 hardly live with him." 
 
 She gave the desired information, and we went on 
 and found the place, and the house full of people wait- 
 ing for us. 
 
A Crabbed Old Man. 
 
42 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 I commenced my speech that night in this way 
 
 Through mud and mire, through rain and snow, 
 We never tire, but onward go. 
 
 And it seems somewhat funny 
 That we should come where people walk 
 A mile or two to hear us talk. 
 
 And ask them for their money. 
 
 Getting in the Fog. 
 
 Whether other men have what may be called pet 
 appointments, I am not able to say, but for myself I 
 can speak without any doubt on that point. On 
 nearly all the circuits that I have travelled, there were 
 one or two places where I could speak with greater 
 freedom and ease than I could at the other appoint- 
 ments. My favourite appointment when I was on the 
 Elma mission was at Trowbridge. I always had a 
 good congregation there, and most of them were 
 religious people. I was preaching there one Sunday 
 afternoon ; the house was crowded. I had my subject 
 well arranged, as I thought, and it w^as one that I had 
 spoken on before, so that I should have gone through 
 it without difficulty. When I had been talking ten or 
 twelve minutes I seemed to get confused, and to lose 
 the run of my subject. I could not make out what 
 was the matter. The sweat stood in great drops on 
 my face, and I trembled in every joint. 
 
 I looked around on the congregation. One good old 
 brother was resting his elbow on his knee, and his 
 chin on his hand. I thought to myself, that man feels 
 so bad at the mess that I am making of my sermon 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 43 
 
 that he is ashamed to look up. On the other side was 
 a young man with a smile on his face. It seemed to 
 me that he was making fun of me. In front of me I 
 saw tears on the face of an old mother in the church. 
 Something said to me, "She feels so badly for you that 
 she is crying." I stopped short. Then I said to the 
 audience, " Friends, I am lost in a fog, and it is no use 
 for me to try to conceal it ; you know it as well as I 
 do. Will you pray for me ?" I finished up I do not 
 know how. Then I left without speaking to a person 
 in the house. 
 
 At the evening service I got along some better. 
 But the cloud was not wholly lifted. 
 
 Next morning, on my way home, I had to pass 
 through Trowbridge. While doing so I met the school 
 teacher, Mr. B. Roth well. He said to me, " Mr. Hilts, 
 what was the matter with you yesterday ?" I said 
 " I cannot tell, but I never was in a greater muddle in 
 my life." " Well," said Mr. Roth well, " I think you 
 were the only one in the house that thought you were 
 muddled. I was paying very particular attention, and 
 I was just thinking how nicely you had your subject 
 arranged, and how well you were getting on with it, 
 when you stopped and said you were in the fog." I 
 have never been able to account for that experience on 
 any rational grounds. 
 
 Too Many Fishes. 
 
 The late Rev. John Lynch was a North of Ireland 
 man. He was fond of a joke, and sometimes he would 
 indulge this propensity at the risk of a successful 
 
44 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 retort. At a camp-meeting near the village of Han- 
 over, Brother Lynch was preaching one morning with 
 great earnestness, and with considerable eloquence. 
 He spoke of the mighty forces of nature. Among 
 other illustrations, he referred to the Niagara river, 
 where " it stands on end," and where by the weight of 
 gravitation it has pressed the solid rock, down, down, 
 lower, and lower, until it has become the bottom of an 
 immense basin, into which whole cities might be 
 thrown, and still leave room enough for half a dozen 
 smaller towns. But he condensed all these grand 
 hyperboles into one short sentence. He told his 
 hearers about the " tremendous chasm that the waters 
 had washed out." 
 
 In the afternoon it was my lot to preach about the 
 " loaves and fishes." By some slip of the tongue, once 
 in the discourse I got three fishes instead of two. 
 That was too good for Lynch to let pass. He had a 
 chance now at the " presiding elder." I was walking 
 past where he and some others were standing when 
 he called me. He said, " See here. Hilts, where did you 
 catch that third fish that you gave us awhile ago ?" 
 I said, " 0, I caught that where Andrew's lad dropped 
 it out of his basket while he was trying to cross that 
 tre-men-ge-ous ka-sum that you dug out this morning." 
 
 After a hearty laugh, Brother Lynch said, "Well, 
 that is not so bad for a Dutchman. I guess we are 
 about even now, so we will let the fish go back into 
 the ka-sum." 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 46 
 
 A Bear in the Way. 
 
 When I was on the Teeswater mission I travelled on 
 foot. There were three reasons for this : tirst, I had 
 no horse ; secondly, I could not get to all of the work 
 with a horse ; thirdly, it would have been very hard 
 to get feed for a horse. So for a year and a half I 
 went to all my appointments on foot. One Sabbath 
 I was going from Parr's schoolhouse in Culross, to 
 John Crowsten's shanty in Kinloss. 
 
 There was a piece of solid bush for two miles of the 
 distance. The road was under -brushed through the 
 bush, but it was not cleared out. When I got part 
 way through I passed a little boy. A little further on 
 a big black bear walked out into the road, and took 
 his stand right in front of me, and only a rod from 
 where I stood. He faced me to all appearance with as 
 little concern as a dog or pig would have done. 
 
 The boy came up, and with a scream put his arms 
 around me and cried out, " 0, save me from the bear." 
 I had not so much as a pocket knife with me. I saw 
 at once the situation of things. I believed that I could 
 get out of his way, but the boy could not do so. My 
 resolve was taken in less time than it takes me to 
 write it. I had read in books, and I had heard hun- 
 ters say, that no animal can stand the human eye. I 
 resolved to test this theory. I had no trouble to catch 
 his eye, and I looked sternly into it, with all the deter- 
 mination and will force that I was capable of showing. 
 For a while, perhaps five minutes, it was not possible 
 to say which seemed least concerneil, the bear or my- 
 
46 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 self. But after some time I saw that his eye began to 
 quiver. I said to myself, " I have got him." In a few 
 minutes he turned and walked off out of sight. 
 
 Twenty years after this I was stopping over night 
 in the neighbourhood. My host invited me to accom- 
 pany him to a public meeting, to be held in the interest 
 of the Bible Society. When we came to the church, 
 which stood at a cross-road where four splendid farms 
 joined corners, I was struck with the familiar aspect 
 of the place. It seemed to me that I had been there 
 before. The lay of the land, just at the foot of a little 
 hill, seemed to associate itself with my past life in a 
 way that I could not understand at first ; but when I 
 ascertained what line of road.it was on, everything 
 was made clear. The church stood less than six rods 
 from the spot where I had met the bear in the woods 
 twenty years ago. I mentioned the circumstance in a 
 few remarks that I was called upon to make. After 
 the meeting closed a man came up to me and said, " I 
 have often heard that boy tell about the bear and the 
 man that looked it out of countenance, but we never 
 knew who it was. That boy is a man now, but he 
 don't live here." 
 
 Trying to Walk a Pole. 
 
 Near the little village of Kady, in the township of 
 Sullivan, there is, or was, a small log church, in which 
 I preached once every two weeks when I was on the 
 Invermay mission. At that time the road, for a part 
 of the way, was across lots and through the farms of 
 two or three settlers. In the spring of the year it was 
 
A Bear in the Way, 
 
48 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 hard getting through with a horse ; at such times I 
 went on foot. One Sabbath morning I was on my way 
 to that appointment. The snow was just going off, 
 and every low place was filled up with mud and water. 
 I came to where a couple of small poles had been 
 thrown over a deep mud-hole, as a sort of footbridge. 
 In passing over, one of the poles turned, so that I fell 
 my whole length in the mud and water. When I 
 gathered myself up I was in anything but a present- 
 able condition. I went and rolled for a while in the 
 remains of a snow-drift, and in that way I got off the 
 thickest of the mud ; then I went on to the church. 
 When I got to the door there were a number of men 
 standing there. One of them said to me, " Look here, 
 mister, if I should come to this crowd looking as you 
 do, every one of them would say, ' Bill Innis had been 
 taking too much tangle-leg.' What shall we say about 
 you?" 
 
 " Well," I answered him, " you may say what you 
 like about me, if you will only fix that mud-hole before 
 I have to come again." 
 
 Losing the Definition. 
 
 I cannot say whether other men ever lose or forget 
 any part of what they want to say in preaching, but 
 I have sometimes done so. This has occurred mostly 
 when I was very much absorbed by my theme. At 
 such times the mind is apt to give its attention more 
 to the results than to the details of the subject. 
 
 I was once preaching in the village of Mapleton (now 
 Listowel). My theme was the cities of refuge among 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 49 
 
 the Jews. In speaking of them as being typical of 
 Christ, I referred to their significant names as illustra- 
 tive of His character and offices. I had depended 
 entirely on the memory for the names and definitions. 
 When I came to this part of my discourse I found that 
 I had entirely forgotten one of the definitions. I men- 
 tioned the name of the city, and then said to the con- 
 gregation : " My friends, I confess that the meaning of 
 this name has entirely escaped my memory, and I am 
 sorry to say that I cannot recall it." But help came 
 from an unexpected quarter. Mr. Hacking, who is 
 now an old man, was in the congregation that day. 
 When I mentioned the difficulty I was in, he promptly 
 came to the rescue by calling out the word that was 
 needed to fill up what would otherwise have been a 
 breach in my sermon. I thanked Mr. Hacking, and 
 went on with the discourse. I have no doubt but this 
 little episode caused the people to give more attention 
 to the subject, and to take more interest in it than 
 they otherwise would have done. What made the 
 occurance more noticeable was the fact that my friend 
 was not much of a believer in orthodox teaching ; but 
 as he was a man of some culture, and of a good deal of 
 kindness of heart, he was willing to help even a Metho- 
 dist preacher when he was in a quandary. 
 
 He Did Not Know What to Do. 
 
 The first time I went over to Teeswater mission I 
 had some difficulty in finding the way from one ap- 
 pointment to another. 
 
 The country was new. There were very few open 
 
50 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 roads, and the clearings all being small, there was a 
 great deal of bush to go through, with no better high- 
 way than a footpath. One of my rounds was in the 
 following order : — Parr's schoolhouse in the morning ; 
 John Crowsten's shanty at two p.m.; at Mr. Hood's 
 house in the evening. This was our Sabbath's work, 
 Then on Monday, at one o'clock p.m., I preached in Mr. 
 Joseph Hanna's shanty. This was about five miles, 
 from Hood's, and there was only one clearing in the 
 whole distance. There a man by the name of Corigan 
 lived. 
 
 The first time that I w^ent from Hood's to Hanna's 
 I was directed as far as Corigan's. There I was to 
 inquire the way to where I wished to go. When I 
 came to his place I met him in front of his house. 
 After learning who he was, I told him that I had been 
 sent to him for direction to the house of Mr. Hanna. 
 He gave me a sort of a comical look, and then said, "I 
 know Mr. Hanna, and I know the way to his place." 
 
 "Mr. Hood told me that you could give me full 
 directions," I answered. 
 
 " Yes, I could tell you all about it. But, you know, 
 can and will are not always equal terms," said he, 
 giving me a look that I did not understand. 
 
 *'• Well, sir," I said to him, " I cannot see why there 
 should be any difference between can and will in this 
 case," 
 
 " I think there is a good deal of difference," said he. 
 
 •* Well, if you do not tell me, I shall go back to 
 Hood's for further instructions," was my reply. 
 
 He gave me another look, and with a smile on his 
 face, he said, " Of course, you are a constable." 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 51 
 
 " O, no, sir ; I am not a constable, nor any other law 
 officer, I am only a preacher, going to Mr. Hanna's to 
 fill an appointment in his house." 
 
 " Well, all right. That changes the whole affair. I 
 understand that Mr. Hanna has been having trouble 
 about a yoke o£ cattle that he got a while ago, and I 
 thought that you were a constable going to annoy him, 
 and if that had been the case, you would have got no 
 directions from me," was his answer. 
 
 " I am glad to find that your hesitancy was caused 
 by groundless fears. Now for the directions, if you 
 please," I said, with as much gravity as I could com- 
 mand. 
 
 He gave me such clear and definite instructions that 
 I found the place without any difficulty. 
 
 Finding a Relative. 
 
 The village of Rock wood is on the main line of the 
 Grand Trunk Railway, about five miles east of the city 
 of Guelph. There was an appointment or preaching 
 place there, in connection with the Eramosa Circuit. 
 
 To that place I once went with Rev. J. F. Durkee, 
 to preach for him. Most of the audience were entire 
 strangjers to me. In lookinej over the crowd, as I sat 
 in the pulpit, I saw a face that had a strangely familiar 
 look. It was that of a woman, whose hair was turn- 
 ing gray, and who had some of the marks of age upon 
 her face. Departed years had left some of their 
 traces upon her features. But while I felt certain that 
 I had seen that face before, and that at some time I 
 had been acquainted with its owner, I could not make 
 
52 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 out where or when it was. It was evident to me that 
 the woman had some idea that she knew who I was. 
 I could tell that by the inquiring look that she would 
 every now and then give me. 
 
 After a while she turned her head so that I got a 
 side view of her faoe. As soon as I saw her thus I 
 recollected who she was like. I said to myself, " If 
 Alvira McCombs is in this world, that woman is she." 
 This was a daughter of my mother's sister, whom I 
 had not seen since she was fifteen years old, and that 
 was more than thirty years before. 
 
 I stopped in church for class-meeting. When I 
 went out of the door, I found three persons waiting 
 for me to come out. There were Miss McCombs, of 
 former years, now Mrs. Balls, her husband and her 
 daughter. She reached her hand to me, saying, "I 
 came here to listen to a stranger, but when I heard 
 the name of the preacher after I came out of the 
 church, I concluded that we are not only old acquaint- 
 ances of former years, but we are also relatives. Do 
 you remember your cousin Alvira ?" 
 
 I said : " Yes, I remember her ; and when I looked at 
 you in the church, I concluded that no person could 
 look as much like her as you do and not be either her- 
 self or her sister." 
 
 " Well," said she, " I am herself, and I am glad to 
 meet you after so many years." 
 
 " But can it be," said I, " that the romping, rattle- 
 headed little Alvira has become the motherly-looking 
 woman before me ? " But it was so. Thirty-three years 
 make great changes in people, especially when those 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 53 
 
 years span the gap between fifteen and forty-eight. 
 The colour and expression of the eyes, and the outlines 
 of the features, remain the same ; but when one looks 
 for the full, round and ruddy face of fifteen in the 
 wrinkled and careworn features of forty-eight, it is 
 not an easy matter to settle the question of identity. 
 
 Meeting an Old Acquaintance. 
 
 At one time I had a week-night appointment in the 
 house of William Armstrong, on the boundary line 
 between the townships of Maryborough and Morning- 
 ton. The meetings were held on Monday evenings. 
 
 One evening after I had closed the service, an 
 elderly man came up to me, and reaching out his hand 
 said, " How are you, old friend ? I am glad to meet you 
 again after all the years that have passed since we 
 last met." 
 
 I looked at him for a moment and then said to him, 
 " I have no doubt but you know who you are talking 
 to, but really I do not know who is talking to me." 
 
 " You have forgotten me, that is all. You and I were 
 great friends at one time. Do you remember Aleck 
 Walker, that once stopped at Thomas Crozier's, near 
 Ballinafad," he said. 
 
 " I remember Aleck Walker, but he was smaller than 
 I was," I said to him. 
 
 " Yes, that is true, but I have grown since then," was 
 his answer. 
 
 " I knew you more from your resemblance of your 
 father than from a remembrance of your own looks. 
 You are as much like what your father was when I 
 saw him last as any two persons can be alike." 
 
54 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 I went home with my former friend, and found 
 him to be the possessor of a splendid two hundred acre 
 farm, an excellent wife, and a number of children 
 mostly full grown. 
 
 Next morning he invited me out to look around the 
 place. After showing me the barn and out-buildings, 
 he took me through a number of beautiful fields. 
 Presently he said, " All that I have I owe to God and 
 to Methodism. After I knew you, I got to drinking, 
 and went very far down in the path of the drunkard; 
 but I came in contact with Methodism, I got converted, 
 and for many years the Lord has greatly blessed me." 
 
 Then, turning to me, he said, " How is it that you 
 are travelling the mission on foot ? " 
 
 " Simply because I could not use a horse on my last 
 mission, and I sold it. When I came off the mission, 
 the price of the horse was gone for something to feed 
 and clothe my family, so that at present I have noth- 
 ing to buy a horse with," I answered. We went into 
 another field where there were a number of horses 
 pasturing. Mr. Walker pointed to a horse and said, 
 " There is an animal that would suit your work ; my 
 price for him is eighty dollars. I will give five dollars 
 toward buying him for you ; pay me the other seventy- 
 five dollars when you can." 
 
 " Well, my friend," I said, "a horse is what I need 
 very much, but I am afraid that I cannot accept your 
 offer so kindly given." "Why not?" said he. "You 
 will want an endorser, and I do not like to ask any 
 man to go on paper with me, if I can help it," I replied. 
 
 He said, " No, I want no endorser ; if the cloth of a 
 
FILLING APPOINTMENTS. 55 
 
 Methodist minister is not worth as much as a horse, I 
 should be very sorry to be a Methodist." I took the 
 horse home with me, and he was a good one. The 
 Quarterly Board undertook to pay for the horse, and 
 they did so with the exception of about twenty dollars. 
 One man, a Doctor Pattison, gave twenty-five dollars 
 towards the amount; the horse was all paid for within 
 six months after I got him. I might fill many pages 
 in relating incidents in connection with filling appoint- 
 ments ; but enough on that subject has been written. 
 
 Before closing this chapter I wish to speak of an 
 unfilled appointment, or a disappointed congregation. 
 We will suppose the place of meeting to be a country 
 church ; the time, " ten-thirty " on Sabbath morning, 
 in the month of November ; the roads about as bad as 
 November roads usually are ; the weather as " leaky " 
 as November weather can well be. The congregation 
 is made up of farmers and their families, who have 
 come with teams ; besides these, there are a few "city 
 folks," who have came out to spend the Sabbath with 
 some of their country cousins. Now the hands of the 
 church clock point to thirty minutes past ten. 
 
 Brother John Smith, not Smithe, goes to the door, 
 and looks in the direction the preacher is to come from, 
 but though he can see a mile up the road, he sees no 
 one coming that looks like a preacher. With a disap- 
 pointed look, he goes and whispers something to 
 Brother Brown. Then Brother B. announces his inten- 
 tion to help the congregation sing the hymn : 
 
 " When I can rend my title clear," etc, 
 
56 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 When this is done, another interval of a few minutes 
 is followed by Brother Jones leading off with, 
 
 " How tedious and tasteless the hours," etc. 
 
 By this time the clock strikes eleven. Another 
 visit of investigation to the door, but without results. 
 Some of the clouds now seem to come inside and fix 
 themselves on the faces of some in the audience. Brother 
 Smith's face, for instance, is growing particularly som- 
 bre. At this point old Brother Simkins sings, with a 
 tone of sadness in his voice : 
 
 " O, land of rest, for thee I sigh, 
 When will the moment come 
 When I shall lay my armour by, 
 And dwell in peace at home ? " 
 
 Now the clock points to 11.30, good measure. Just 
 as the old class-leader is about to move the adjourn- 
 ment of the meeting, a young sister over near the front 
 window commences to sing " The Sweet By and Bye." 
 This is taken up by the younger part of the audience. 
 While the echoes of the last verse of this beautiful 
 composition are still rolling along the ceiling, an old 
 lady, of Quaker proclivities, gets up and walks to- 
 ward the door, muttering to herself, as she supposes, 
 something about young girls being in a great hurry to 
 get into the " Sweet By and Bye." This is the signal 
 for a general church-emptying. After which the people 
 go quietly home to dinner. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHANGING LOCATIONS. 
 
 IN these days of conveyances on land and water, 
 run by steam power, the average citizen of Ontario 
 cannot fully appreciate the difference between travel- 
 ling now and travelling thirty or forty years ago. 
 Then, a move of one or two hundred miles was a mat- 
 ter " of great importance." It involved the employ- 
 ment of time, the outlay of money, the endurance of 
 hardships, the performance of labour, the smashing of 
 furniture, the exercise of patience, and the testing of 
 moral and physical courage, little dreamed of by the 
 railway travellers of the present day. Only those who 
 have tried both the old and new methods of migration 
 can form anything like a correct estimate of the dif- 
 ference there is between them. In the one case a man 
 would be a day or two helping his wife to pack things 
 away in boxes that they had spent two or three days 
 in making. Then the boxes and furniture would be 
 loaded on two or three wagsfons, and he would lash 
 them on with ropea Then he would take his wife and 
 as many of the children as possible in the buggy. The 
 
58 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 rest of the children, if th^re were any more, would be 
 snugly stowed away in the loaded waggons. When 
 all necessary preparations had been made and the 
 good-byes had all been said, and the final hand-shak- 
 ing had been done, the front teamster would say, "All 
 ready ? " and start. Then two or three days of torture 
 would commence. To watch those waggons as they 
 were drawn over the uneven roads, up and down the 
 hills, over rough corduroys, through bridgeless creeks 
 and sloughs, and quagmires ; to have his wife fretting 
 and fidgetting about the things in danger of being 
 broken; to find himself nearly distracted over the 
 question as to which was most likely to occur — the 
 upsetting of the waggon and the smashing of evei:y- 
 thing, or the going off into hysterics by his poor worried 
 and wearied wife. This was a man's lot under the 
 old-time system of migration. 
 
 In the other case, a man puts his goods into a car, 
 pays a little freight, tickets the articles sent, visits 
 among friends for a day or two, takes his family into 
 a palace car, pays the fare, enjoys a few hours' ride, 
 arrives at his destination, hauls his stuff from the 
 station, helps to put things in place, goes to bed at- his 
 usual time, feeling more like a man that has been to a 
 picnic than one that had been moving. This is a man's 
 privilege under the new system of migration. 
 
 Our First Move. 
 
 In the month of June, eighteen hundred and fifty-six, 
 my itinerant life commenced. I was living in the 
 village of Smithville, county of Lincoln, Ont. Here I 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 59 
 
 had been working as a contractinor builder, and was 
 doing well. But the Church with which I was con- 
 nected was greatly in want of men to fill its rapidly 
 increasing work. I felt it to be my duty to preach 
 the Gospel. So I offered myself for the work. Hav- 
 ing been in the Church, and having filled the offices of 
 class-leader and exhorter for a number of years, I 
 was known personally by a large number of the 
 preachers. My offer was accepted. I was employed 
 by the Elder, Rev. J. W. Jacobs, and as soon as arrange- 
 ments could be made, we started for our first Held of 
 labour in the ministry. This was Garafraxa, in the 
 county of Wellington. To reach it we had to travel 
 eighty miles. I had never been there. 
 
 The road north of Hamilton was all strange to me. 
 We had to go on a waggon. All the help that we 
 could get from railroads was the privilege of crossing 
 under one at Dundas and over one at Guelph. 
 
 I hired a heavy team and put a rack on a strong 
 waggon. On this we loaded such a load of furniture 
 as is seldom seen on one conveyance. The balance of 
 our goods we left with a friend, to be taken at some 
 future time. The friend died not long after; the 
 goods we never got. 
 
 When we had everything ready to start, a man 
 came to me and said, " I think you are making a great 
 mistake; I do not think you will ever succeed as a 
 preacher. As a man you can succeed almost anywhere, 
 but you will never be a preacher. Now, if you will 
 unload that waggon and go to work in my foundry as 
 a wood worker, I will give you steady work and the 
 
60 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 highest wages going, as long as you like to stay." I 
 thanked him for his kindness and his liberal offer. 
 But I told him I was unable to take his advice or 
 accept his offer, as I felt that I was under an obligation 
 to obey a call that could not with safety be disregarded, 
 as I felt that the impressions that had been on my 
 mind from my boyhood, and that had grown stronger 
 with increasing years, must have a significance. If I 
 was mistaken, it was a mistake made in all honesty, 
 after much prayerful consideration and many petitions 
 for Divine guidance. But this is a long digression. 
 
 I took my wife and children in the buggy, and 
 started on after the team that had gone an hour before. 
 We went to Mr. Martin Halstead's, and stopped for the 
 night in what was known as the Buckbee neighbour- 
 hood. The teamster went to his home to stay. He was 
 a son of Mr. Adolphus Lounsbury, who owned the team. 
 
 The passing through that place was something of a 
 trial to us. Here it was that my wife was raised. Here 
 we had been married, and we had spent twelve years 
 of our married life here on the farm adjoining the one 
 where we were staying. Here we passed by the place 
 where lay in quiet rest the mouldering remains of one 
 of our babes. Here we passed the house, built by 
 myself, where we had started life together, and where 
 our children had been born. The class that I had led 
 for thirteen years was in this locality. In this settle- 
 ment were many reminders of my vocation as a 
 mechanic. We had lived here, and we were doing well 
 here. 
 
 But we got the " western fever," sold out, went 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 61 
 
 west, did not like it, came back to Smithville, and lost 
 four or five hundred dollars in the movement, but per- 
 haps it was all for the best. 
 
 Next morning we started and went on to Hamilton 
 by noon. We fed the horses and p;ot our dinners, 
 after which we started on and went as far as the 
 village of Freelton. Here we stayed all night. We 
 took an early start and drove on seven miles, and 
 stopped for breakfast. We went on through the town 
 of Guelph to the village of Fergus, and stopped for 
 dinner. 
 
 Here we left the gravel road and turned toward the 
 old Garafraxa mission parsonage, which was seven 
 miles away. We got along nicely for about three 
 miles. Then we came to a piece of swampy bush, 
 known as " Black Ash Swamp." The bottom of the 
 roadway seemed to have started on a trip to China, 
 and for half a mile the mud was almost to the hubs of 
 the wheels. The horses were not used to that sort of 
 work, and most decidedly objected to proceed any 
 further in that way. 
 
 "Stuck in the Mud!" 
 
 was the significant cry of the teamster as he called 
 back to me from his perch on top of the load. Here was 
 a difficulty. The horses had drawn the heavy load for 
 eighty miles and were tired. I resolved to seek for 
 help. Going forward through the wood I came to an 
 old farmer, named Cassidy. I told him my trouble, who 
 I was, and where I was going. He very cheerfully 
 sent his son with a large, strong yoke of oxen to our 
 
62 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 assistance. The cattle were hitched to the load, and 
 in a little while we were through the long: mud hole 
 and on the high ground once more. I went in to 
 settle with Mr. Cassidy, but he declined to take any- 
 thing, saying that he always tried, when it was in his 
 power, to help those who were in trouble. 
 
 While I was away seeking help, two of the Felkers 
 from the vicinity of the parsonage came along on their 
 way home from Fergus. On finding out who we were, 
 they took our two boys along with them, and left 
 them at Mr. Lawrence Monkman's, who lived right 
 beside the house we were oroino^ to, so that the news of 
 our coming went ahead of us. We went on, and when 
 we came to the place we found Mr. Monkman sitting 
 on the fence waiting for us. We drove the load into 
 the yard, and then we all went home with our new 
 friends to stay all night. After tea we all went to 
 the parsonage and unloaded the stuff, and put it into 
 the house that was to be our home for the next two 
 years. After two years of hard work and a good 
 degree of success on the mission, and after becoming 
 warmly attached to the people, we had to prepare for 
 
 Our Second Move. 
 
 The Conference was held at Willowdale, on Yonge 
 Street. My appointment was to Elma mission. This 
 was a new field, only one year old. It was about forty 
 miles from where I was living. Its headquarters was 
 a little hamlet on the boundary between the townships 
 of Wallace and Elma, in the county of Perth. It was 
 then called Mapleton. It is now the enterprising 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 63 
 
 town of Listowel. From the preacher that had been 
 there the previous year I got a list of the appoint- 
 ments, and the names and residences of the members. 
 But he could tell me but little about the road that I 
 should go. After gaining all the information that I 
 could, I mapped out the line of travel, and made pre- 
 parations to move. Two young men, James Robinson 
 and James Loree, volunteered to take their teams and 
 carry our stuff. We gladly accepted their kind offer. 
 We started on a nice bright morning in the month of 
 June. We went through the village of Fergus, where 
 we stopped for dinner. After noon we started again. 
 While we were going through the township of Nichol 
 the clouds poured down rain at a rate that s§nt every 
 one under shelter who had a place to run to. But for 
 us there was no shelter until we came to the village of 
 Drayton, on the line between Peel and Maryborough. 
 We had a covered buggy, but even that could not 
 keep us dry. And the poor teamsters just had to take 
 it as best they could. The rain came in torrents all 
 the afternoon and all night and the next morning, 
 until ten o'clock. We stayed at the only hotel at 
 Drayton. We were as well used as the condition 
 of things in a new country would admit. Next 
 morning everything looked very gloomy. Water was 
 running in torrents everywhere, filling up the low 
 places and raising the creeks and streams in all direc- 
 tions at an alarmingly rapid rate. At ten the clouds 
 seemed to break and the rain ceased. We started on 
 again, but now travelling was almost out of the 
 question, because of water everywhere, and the mud 
 
64 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 seemed to be turned into brown putty. Wherever it 
 touched it stuck like paint. We got dinner at a little 
 place called Hollin. We tried the road once more. 
 One of the teams got stuck in the mud, and the other 
 teamster had to hitch on and help it out. Between 
 two and three o'clock the rain commenced again as 
 hard as ever. We went on, as there was no help for it. 
 On the town line between Maryborough and Wallace 
 we found a hotel, where we put up for the night, 
 having gained eight miles and got another soaking. 
 The landlord told us that to take those roads through 
 to Mapleton would be impossible. He said the settlers 
 sometimes went through with oxen and sleds, but 
 he did not think a waggon had ever gone over. I told 
 him th&t-we must go through. 
 
 Next morning after breakfast we started. We got 
 along all right for half a mile, then we came to a 
 cedar swamp through which a road had been cut and 
 causewayed. In the middle of the swamp w^as a large 
 creek. When we came to it we found that about two 
 rods of the causeway had been carried away by the 
 freshet, and a current of clear, beautiful water, about 
 two feet deep and thirty feet wide, was running 
 through the gap. I got a pole and tried the bottom, 
 and found that it was solid. I told the men that we 
 would try it. The forward team was a span of Lower 
 Canadian French horses. They went off the logs into 
 the stream all right, but when the waggon went in 
 they both fell flat in the water, and they could not get 
 up again. The two men and myself had to get into 
 the water to save them from drowning. We got them 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 65 
 
 on their feet and out of the water. Then we decided 
 that the waggons could go no further. 
 
 I went back and got a man with a pair of oxen to 
 hitch to the hind axle and draw the waofojon and load 
 back to the causeway. I told the men to take the 
 things back to the hotel and unload them. Then I 
 put the saddle on my horse and started for Mapleton 
 to seek for help, having to make my horse swim three 
 streams before getting there. 
 
 I went to George Maynard, who was the class-leader 
 at Mapleton. When I told him who I was and what 
 I wanted, he said he was glad to see me. They had, 
 he said, been in a worry about moving the preacher. 
 " But," said he, " since you have come so far, we can 
 surely get your things brought the rest of the way." 
 We went to see the Steward, Mr. J. Tremain, and they 
 two agreed to come with their oxen and sleds the next 
 day to bring a part of our stuff. 
 
 I went back to where I left the family, and found 
 that the teamsters had unloaded and started for home. 
 The water had spoiled a good deal of our furniture. 
 My wife and I were in the barn examining our goods 
 when a man came up to me and looked me in the face 
 saying, " Are you a Methodist preacher ?" I looked at 
 him, and I hardly knew at first what to make of him. 
 He was a fierce-looking man, and his hair stood up on 
 end as much as hair could do. I did not know 
 whether I had found a friend, or unwittingly made 
 an enemy. But looking him steadily in the face, 
 I answered by saying, "I am a substitute for one. 
 What can I do for you ?" " Come home with me," 
 
66 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 was his ready reply. He said, "My children came 
 home from school and brought the word that a 
 minister and his family were here waiting for teams 
 to come and take them to Mapleton. My wife and I 
 talked it over, and we concluded to invite you to our 
 house. We don't know who you are, nor what branch 
 of Methodism you represent, nor do we care. It is 
 enough for us to know that one of our Master's ser- 
 vants is in need of a friend." I asked him where he 
 lived. He pointed over the field to a house not a 
 quarter of a mile away. I went in and told the land- 
 lord that I had found a friend, settled up with him for 
 the trouble we had given him, and went home with 
 Mr. Spaulding, who was a Wesleyan class-leader. We 
 found a genial atmosphere at this Christian home, and 
 had a comfortable night's rest. Both Mr. and Mrs. 
 Spaulding were warm-hearted, intelligent and conse- 
 crated Christians. As I lay thinking over the events 
 of the day, the passage, " I was a stranger and ye took 
 me in," seemed to have greater meaning to me than 
 ever it had before. 
 
 Next morning, at nine o'clock, George Maynard and 
 John Tremain were on hand with the teams. We 
 loaded on the articles that would be most damaged by 
 remaining wet, for everything was completely satu- 
 rated ; the rest we piled up in the corner of Mr. Smith's 
 barn until the flood subsided. We started ; I on horse- 
 back and the rest any way that suited them best, as I 
 had to leave the buggy behind. The bush in some 
 places was like a flower-garden, and the children nearly 
 ran wild about the wild-wood flowers. We got over 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 67 
 
 the creeks and watery places as well as could be ex- 
 pected, and arrived at the house that was called the 
 Parsonage. The country was new ; the first settlers 
 had gone into these townships in eighteen hundred 
 and fifty, so that there was not a farm in the two town- 
 ships over eight years old and not many of them more 
 than half that age. We found an excellent class of 
 people on the Elma mission. When we got our things 
 unpacked we found that much of our clothing was 
 more or less damaged, while some articles were com- 
 pletely spoiled. This was especially the case with our 
 hats and bonnets. These had been carefully packed in 
 the drawers of a bureau. The rain had softened the 
 glue and the bureau had fallen to pieces, letting the 
 contents of all the drawers fall together in one mass 
 of mixed cotton, woollen, fur, felt and feathers. The 
 ruin was complete. My wife had not a bonnet left 
 that was fit to wear on the street, and I had not a hat 
 left that was worth picking up in the road ; and there 
 was no chance to replace them, as there was not a 
 medium store of goods within^ twenty miles of us. The 
 best that I could do was to make a dye of soft maple 
 bark and green copperas, and color a coarse straw hat, 
 which made me a Sunday hat, till it was cold enough 
 to put on a fur cap. My wife got a bonnet " shape " 
 at D. D. Campbell's little store, and covered it with 
 silk taken from a dress that she got while I was a 
 mechanic. That did her while we stayed on the mis- 
 sion. The loss of that move by damage done to furni- 
 ture was more than fifty dollars. 
 
 I had fair success on this charge, and I became 
 
68 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 warmly attached to the people, and I did not dislike 
 the place. We stayed there one year, and then came 
 the time to give the itinerant wheel another turn. 
 Then came the marching order for us to pack up and 
 go to the Teeswater mission. When I came from Con- 
 ference and told my wife where we were to go, I 
 expected to hear some sighs and see some tears, but I 
 was disappointed. She only said, " Well, it is a hard 
 move, so soon after the one we had last year. I think 
 the stationing committee might have done better for 
 us." Then I told her that I had made up my mind to 
 leave the decision of the case with her. If she did not 
 want to face it, I would drop out of the itinerancy, 
 settle down again, and do what I could in a local capa- 
 city. Short and emphatic was her answer : " We will 
 go to Teeswater," said she, " if we stick in the mud 
 along the road and half starve after me get there." I 
 said, " Good for you, little woman ; that decides the 
 matter ; we will go." 
 
 Two days after I got home from Conference I started 
 on foot to my new field. I followed the road to ex- 
 amine it. What was called the road for much of the 
 distance was only a temporary sled track, winding 
 here and there through the bush. At other places the 
 road had been opened out, and the worst of the swamps 
 and creeks had been bridged over by the Government. 
 After I had gone over and inspected the whole distance 
 of thirty-two miles, I concluded that it would be pos- 
 sible to go through with a waggon if it was not too 
 heavily loaded. I filled the appointments on the Sab- 
 bath. On Monday we made arrangements for teams 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 69 
 
 to be sent the next week to move our things. In 
 taking a survey of the place, and after getting what 
 information I was able, I concluded a horse would 
 be of but little use here. The roads were not in a con- 
 dition to make riding on horseback either safe or 
 pleasant. On my return to Maploton I sold my horse. 
 Part of the price went to pay the store bill of the pre- 
 vious year, and the other part was taken in store pay. 
 
 I knew that it was going to be a very difficult thing 
 to go through to Teeswater with waggons over the road 
 that I had seen, but to find any better road it would 
 be necessary to go around by Goderich, or else by 
 Walkerton. Either one of these routes would involve 
 over one hundred miles of travel, and a bad road at 
 that. I resolved to try the shorter road at all hazards. 
 When the time came for the teams to arrive only one 
 came. That was sent by a man that was going out to 
 the old settlements on some business of his own. I 
 was expected to drive the team back. We loaded up 
 what we could put on the waggon with safety and 
 started. The road was very rough all the way, but 
 the first six miles were cleared out, and the creeks and 
 swamps covered with corduroy bridges. We got 
 along nicely over this. Then we turned off" on a bush 
 road for about six or seven miles. Here everybody 
 had to walk that could do so, and the rest had to be 
 carried. 
 
 At length we came to a place where the road went 
 through a quagmire, and the black muck had been 
 turned into a bed of mortar to a greater depth than 
 was consistent with the passage of heavy loads. I got 
 
70 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 on the load to drive over, and got along all right for 
 part of the way, when both horses fell into the mud 
 and could not get up again. Here was trouble. The 
 waggon sank in mud up to the axles. One of the 
 horses gave right up, and seemed to fancy that his 
 time to escape from whips and bad feed had come. 
 The other horse was a spirited animal, that had no 
 notion of dying in the mud. He made a desperate 
 effort to regain his footing, but in doing this he seemed 
 inclined to make a bridge of his unfortunate companion 
 in distress. This proceeding greatly increased the 
 peril of his mate's situation. 
 
 I got down from my elevated position on the load, 
 feeling that for once in my life I had found a " soft 
 place " to light on. I got into the mud and unbuckled 
 and unhitched until the horses were loose from the 
 waggon and free from each other. I sent my boys for 
 help to a place about half a mile distant, where I had 
 seen some men and oxen as I was passing the week 
 before. I got a long pole, and placed one end of it 
 over the one horse and under the other, and then I 
 took the other end on my shoulder. In this way I 
 could keep the ambitious horse from throwing himself 
 on the discouraged one, which was in danger of being 
 buried alive by the struggles of his less submissive 
 mate. While I was standing in the mud and water, 
 an elderly lady came along. On seeing the position of 
 things, she said to me : 
 
 " Well, mister, you are in a bad fix. Can I do any- 
 thing for you ? " 
 
 I said, " This don't look very much like a woman's 
 work, does it ? " 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 71 
 
 " No, not much," she said ; " but I should very much 
 like to help you, if I could. Do you think you will 
 get those horses out alive ? " 
 
 I said, "I hope so. It can be done if I can get 
 some help." 
 
 " Well," said the old lady, " on my way home I pass 
 the shanties of four or five men. I will send every 
 one of them here in less than an hour." 
 
 She did as she promised, and with the help of two 
 other men, who came from another direction, we got 
 the horses out after a hard struggle. But such a queer- 
 looking team I never saw. When they went in one 
 was gray and the other black, but when they came out 
 no one could tell which one was black or gray. With 
 the help of the horses, and some ropes and pries, we 
 got the waggon out. We lost three hours by this 
 mud-hole. We fed the horses and took a lunch in the 
 bush, and then drove on to the home of William Ekins, 
 a local-preacher in the Church that I belonged to. 
 This brother was a whole-souled, warm-hearted Tip- 
 perary Irishman, who feared no man but himself, and 
 who dared to do anything that was not sinful or mean. 
 I heard him once say, that the only man in the world 
 that he feared was " Bill " Ekins. If by the help of 
 God, he could keep Ekins out of mischief, he could get 
 along with everybody else. 
 
 I never was more sorry for any one than for my 
 wife that night. She was so tired that she could 
 hardly get along at all. She was not much accustomed 
 to travelling on foot. But she had walked fourteen 
 or fifteen miles that day, and had carried a baby in her 
 
72 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 arms the most of the way. As I looked at her as she 
 sat at the tea-table, I thought that so complete an 
 embodiment of pluck, and perseverance, and energy, 
 and weariness, done up in less than one hundred 
 pounds of feminine humanity, I had never before 
 looked upon. After a good night's rest we started on 
 our way to our new home. Brother Ekins placed my 
 wife on a nice pony of his, and sent a boy along to 
 bring it back. This made it easier for her. We found 
 a better road, too, than we had the day before. But 
 we had a number of corduroy bridges or causeways to 
 go over, which caused us to progress but slowly. We 
 took our lunch that day in the shadow of a pile of 
 saw-logs, on the top of a high hill. The children 
 enjoyed this gipsy mode of doing very much. 
 
 After this we got on nicely until within about 
 two miles of Teeswater. Then, in crossing a cedar- 
 swamp where the road was very much tramped over, 
 so that the mud was very deep and sticky, the horses 
 both went down again, and either could not or would 
 not get up. Again I went in and got the horses loose 
 from the waggon and from each other. I sent my 
 wife and part of the children on under the guidance 
 of Ekins' boy. I left my boys to watch the team, and 
 went to look for help. Some distance further on I 
 found a company of men " logging " in a new fallow. 
 They had a good yoke of cattle. After much persua- 
 sion, and by promising full pay for the time spent, the 
 owner of the oxen went back with me. When we 
 came to the place, the horses had got up and walked 
 out to hard ground, and were browsing leaves off the 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 73 
 
 bushes. The oxen soon brought the load out of the 
 mud. I paid one dollar and fifty cents to their owner, 
 and in an hour we found ourselves at the little house, 
 only partly finished, that was to be our home for the 
 next Conference year. This mission was in the town- 
 ship of Culross. 
 
 The first settlers went into this township in eighteen 
 hundred and fifty-three, so that the oldest farm was 
 only seven years old. 
 
 When we tried to start housekeeping with the few 
 articles that we had been able to bring on our load, we 
 found no little difficulty. We had neither bedstead, 
 table nor chair in the house ; and a number of other 
 things needed for constant use were conspicuous by 
 their absence. But it is not easy to beat a woman if 
 she has her mind made up to do a thing. My wife 
 soon decided what was to be done. Some benches 
 were made as a substitute for chairs ; a large packing- 
 box, covered with table linen, served for a table ; the 
 floor was used for bedsteads ; and for a cradle, " to 
 rock the baby in," a sap trough was got from Mr. Ira 
 Fulford's sugar bush. As soon as I could get away, I 
 went back to Mapleton for the rest of our stuff; But 
 at that time teams were very scarce ; the best that I 
 could do was to gather up a pair of horses, a waggon 
 and harness, the property of four different owners, and 
 a young man to go with me and bring back the team. 
 We started with our load, but one of the animals had 
 done no heavy work since it was brought into the bush 
 two years before. The collar soon began to gall its 
 shoulders, and before we orot half the distance this 
 
74 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 horse refused to draw the load any further. We left 
 the waggon standing in the road, and went two miles 
 further on, and stayed all night. Next morning I bor- 
 rowed a yoke of oxen from a Mr. Donohoe, with which 
 I hauled the load to his place and put it in his barn, 
 sent the young man back with the empty waggon, and 
 I went home without the stuff. After a while I 
 got a team and a boy from Mr. John Gilroy and a 
 waggon from Mr. Barber. They lived seven miles apart. 
 With this outfit I went and fetched the things. We 
 had been without them about two months. (As this 
 mission is spoken of elsewhere in these pages, I will 
 say no more about it here.) We stayed only one year ; 
 then we were sent right back to Mapleton, or more 
 properly, Listowel, as the name had been changed. 
 But the improvement in the road was so great, and 
 our return move was so different from what we found 
 the year before, that we could hardly believe that it 
 was the same road that we had gone over the year 
 before. Hough causeways had been covered with 
 earth, creeks had been bridged, knolls had been levelled 
 down, and low places filled up, so the whole distance 
 was gone over in one day. Teams were sent from 
 Listowel to move the household goods. Mr. P. B. 
 Brown, reeve of Culross, volunteered to go with a 
 double carriage and take the family. We got through 
 in one day, and not ten cents worth of inj ury was done 
 to anything. 
 
 It is surprising what rapid progress is made in a 
 new country, when it is tilled up with an enterprising, 
 go-a-head class of settlers. And that was the kind of 
 people that first went into these townships. 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 75 
 
 During our stay this time at Listowel, there was 
 nothing of an unusual nature that occurred, except the 
 prevalence of typhoid fever, spoken of in another 
 chapter. My success in the work was about an average, 
 nothing special one way or other. We were here 
 but one year, and then we had our appointment for 
 the second time to Garafraxa. This was three moves 
 in as many years. I at first concluded that I was one 
 of the unfortunate men that the people would only 
 tolerate for one year. But then the fact that I was 
 sent to places where I had been before seemed not to 
 harmonize with that idea. I could not understand it, 
 and it was only after I had gained experience, in the 
 stationing of men, that I could account for the strange 
 moves that are sometimes made in the itinerant work. 
 
 On my way home from Conference I passed through 
 Garafraxa, and made arrangements for moving. The 
 committee to move the preacher that year was com- 
 posed in part, of Morris, Cook, and Henry Scarrow, 
 who consented to go with their teams and move us. 
 In this case, too, we found the return journey entirely 
 different from what we had experienced three years 
 before, in going from Garafraxa to Mapleton. 
 
 We found improvements in other things as well as 
 roads. When we left there we moved out of an old 
 log-house that had been built in the early days of the 
 mission. On coming back we moved into a nice little 
 stone cottage, that had been built during the pastorate 
 of Rev. J. H. Watts. 
 
 On resuming the work on this circuit I was much 
 pleased with the state of the Church. Progress had 
 
76 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 been made in other things besides building. Through 
 the earnest and persevering labours of Brother Watts, 
 a large number had been added to the Church since I 
 had left the circuit three years before. Of this man's 
 work I wish to say, after ample opportunities to observe 
 its effects, it wears well. 
 
 During my former pastorate on this charge, I 
 received into membership over one hundred new con- 
 verts. It was very encouraging on my return to find 
 most of these still on the way, and some of them fill- 
 ing important positions in the Church. Some two or 
 three had passed away in the full assurance of faith, 
 and in the joyful hope of a glorious home beyond the 
 tide. These things gave me great encouragement to 
 work on for the salvation of men. 
 
 We had two very pleasant years, and would have 
 stayed longer, but at that time the discipline only 
 allowed two years' pastorate as a rule. The results of 
 my efforts on this circuit are fully shown in another 
 chapter. So that I must not particularize here. 
 
 Our next move was to Mount Forest. Teams were 
 sent to move us. We loaded up and started. Before 
 we had gone one mile, a very painful, if not fatal, 
 accident was providentially prevented by the activity 
 of Mr. James Bell, who now lives in Muskoka. He 
 was walking by the side of one of the loads, on the top 
 of which a place had been fixed for our two little girls. 
 They were perched up on the load safely, as we thought. 
 While we were going through a piece of brush, where 
 the ground was nearly hidden by beautiful wild-flowers, 
 the girls became so attracted by what they saw that 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 77 
 
 they forgot where they were. Just at that moment 
 the front wheels went into a deep rut. One of the 
 girls fell from her seat, and was falling right in front 
 of the wheel. Mr. Bell sprang forward just in time to 
 catch her, and, before he could set her aside, the other 
 girl came right after her sister. But Mr. Bell was so 
 quick in his movements that he saved them both from 
 harm. I was just behind with a horse and buggy, 
 along with my wife and the smaller children, and we 
 saw the whole thing. When 1 saw them fall I thought 
 they would be instantly killed. I could not see how 
 any earthly hand could save them. But by the mercy 
 of God they were saved. They lived to grow up to 
 womanhood, seek the Lord, witness a good profession, 
 and then go to pluck the flowers of fadeless beauty in 
 the fields of the " sweet by and bye." 
 
 Nothing more took place of an unusual character 
 till we got to Mount Forest. We spent rather an 
 uncomfortable year there. A combination of circum- 
 stances, which I need not mention here, contributed to 
 make our stay in this place a short one, and an 
 unpleasant one. My manner of doing things was so 
 very different from that of my predecessor, and the 
 style of the people in the town was so diverse from 
 that of those that I had been previously living among, 
 that I was discontented and the people were dis- 
 satisfied. I did not want to stay, and the people in 
 the town did not want me to stay, so that our views, 
 after all, were quite harmonious. 
 
 When the Conference came on I asked to be moved, 
 and my request was granted. Our next move was to 
 
78 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 Invermay. This was a new mission, only two years 
 old. It embraced the township oi: Arran, and extended 
 into the townships of Saugeen, Elderslie and Sullivan. 
 
 I liked this place, although it was a hard field to 
 work on account of the distances between appoint- 
 ments. We found some of the noblest men on the 
 Invermay mission that I have met with in all my 
 ministerial experience. We remained here one year, 
 and then, by my consent, we went to the town of Mea- 
 ford, on the shore of the Georgian Bay. Here I passed 
 some of the pleasantest and some of the saddest days of 
 my life. But this need not be detailed here, as it is 
 spoken of elsewhere. 
 
 We stayed two years, and then we were sent to the 
 village of Thornbury, only eight miles, and also on 
 the shore of the bay. We were here three years, the 
 discipline having been so changed as to make that the 
 full term. Then I was placed on the Huron District 
 as Presiding Elder. We moved back to Meaford, and 
 that was my home during my four years' term on the 
 district. I was at home on an average two months 
 out of the twelve. When my district work was done 
 I was again stationed by Bishop Richardson on the 
 Meaford Circuit. We only stayed one year, and then 
 we went to the fine town of Kincardine, on the shores 
 of Lake Huron. We sent our goods to Kincardine on 
 a boat, taking good care to have them well insured, as 
 Methodist preachers, as a rule, are not very well pre- 
 pared to replace articles that may be destroyed by fire 
 or water, and I am no exception to the rule. 
 
 We had lived in Meaford and Thornbury for ten 
 
CHANGING LOCATIONS. 79 
 
 years, and it seemed very much like leaving home 
 when we had to move some eighty miles, and settle 
 again among strangers. This was the case so far as 
 my family were concerned. For myself it was not so. 
 I had frequently been in Kincardine. We stayed in 
 this place nine years. Three years I had charge of 
 the circuit, which was a large one, requiring two men, 
 and six years I was a superannuate, filling one appoint- 
 ment every Sabbath for four years out of the six. As 
 presiding elder, as preacher in charge, or as special 
 supply, I served the M. E. congregation in the town of 
 Kincardine for the term of eleven years. 
 
 As we had only moved three times in about nineteen 
 years, we began to fear that we should lose the spirit 
 of the itinerancy, and become stationary in our habits, 
 So we packed up once more, and came to Streetsville, 
 where these pages are written. 
 
 In this last move we had an opportunity of testing 
 the advantages of the present system of migration 
 over the old way. We placed our things in a car, took 
 a receipt for them, and then visited among friends for 
 two or three days. Then we stepped into a first-class 
 car, had a few hours' pleasant ride, reached our destin- 
 ation, and found our goods all right and everything 
 safe. I could not help saying to my wife that if this 
 state of things had been in vogue thirty years ago, we 
 would not have had so many articles spoiled and 
 broken as we have lost by moving since we com- 
 menced our itinerant life. 
 
CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 GOING TO CONFERENCE. 
 
 EVERY institution has some set phrases peculiar 
 to itself. Navigation has its wharves, its 
 quays, and its docks; railways, banks, etc., have 
 their presidents, their managers and their agents. 
 The Churches have their synods, their assemblies, 
 and their conferences. Among the Methodists the 
 phrase " Going to Conference " is a very suggestive 
 one. It means a great deal more than the majority 
 of people imagine. There are those who fancy that 
 going to Conference is very much like going to a 
 picnic or a ten days' pleasure party ; but to a Meth- 
 odist minister it is the very opposite to that. To him 
 it means the review of the past, the scrutiny of the 
 present, and the forecast of the future ; to him it 
 means a week or ten days of close attention to the 
 details of business, intense thought, earnest discussion, 
 and sometimes harrowing opposition and distasteful 
 decisions ; to him it often means the severing of cords 
 that have been strengthening for three years past, and 
 the breaking up of associations that have been widen- 
 ing and deepening month after month during a whole 
 
GOING TO CONFERENCE. 81 
 
 ministerial term according to discipline. It means to 
 him the loss of the sight of well-known faces and of 
 hearing the sound of familiar names. 
 
 There was a time when to me the very thought of 
 going to Conference would almost make me shudder. 
 In the M. E. Church, at the time that I joined the 
 ranks of the itinerancy, it was the custom to give 
 every man in the Conference a thorough overhauling 
 in open Conference. The Bishop would ask all the 
 questions that the discipline required, and some that 
 it did not ; then he would hand the unfortunate sub- 
 ject of brotherly dissection over to the tender mercies 
 of conferential anatomists to be dealt with according 
 to the whim or caprice of any and every member who 
 might wish to show his ability as an inquisitor, or his 
 ingenuity as a self -constituted detective. No man 
 could, at that time, go to Conference feeling safe, no 
 matter how careful or faithful he had been in his work. 
 He did not know but that the ghost of some duty, 
 overlooked or forgotten, would arise and confront 
 him in the presence of all ; he could not tell but that 
 the echo of some unguarded word might come ringing 
 to his ears, and make more noise in Conference than 
 all his prayers and sermons and songs of praise could 
 do. A man was once charged with crime and taken 
 into court ; the indictment was read and the crown 
 lawyer made his charge in very strong language, as is 
 usual. The judge asked the prisoner if he was " guilty 
 or not guilty." He said : " When I came into court I 
 really thought that I was innocent of the crime charged 
 against me ; but since I have heard the reading of that 
 6 
 
82 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 document, and the speech of that lawyer, I do not 
 know what to think about it." Just so ; a man might 
 go to Conference thinking that his record was not a 
 bad one, and that he might be considered a pretty fair 
 average among reasonably good men ; but by the time 
 that Doctor Rake-him-up and some others were done 
 with him, he might doubt if there was a mite of 
 honesty, or a particle of piety in his whole composition. 
 But those days passed away years ago, and the 
 Methodism of this country will never allow them to 
 return. We now have a better way to reach the same 
 results. No man should throw out an insinuation 
 that may cast a slur on a brother's good name unless 
 he is prepared to formulate specific charges. 
 
 The greatest tongue- lashing that I ever gave a 
 minister was for a matter of this kind. A young man 
 had been his colleague, and was recommended for ad- 
 mission on trial in the Conference ; his superintendent 
 was called upon to give information respecting the 
 young man. He went on to say that the young man 
 was a fair preacher, and that he stood pretty well 
 among the people, "but," said he, " I have good reason to 
 believe that he is in the habit of receiving letters from 
 a man ied woman, and I do not know what they are 
 all about." On enquiry it was found that his state- 
 ment was entirely correct, but when explanations were 
 given, it came out the letters were from the young 
 man's married sister. Some of them were on business, 
 and others such as any sister might write to a brother. 
 I concluded that a man like that deserved a talking to, 
 and he got it. 
 
GOING TO CONFERENCE. 83 
 
 In going to Conference the mode of travel is mostly 
 determined by circumstances. When the Conference 
 is one of very extended boundaries, it becomes a matter 
 of considerable importance to those who live at a dis- 
 tance from the place where its sessions are to be held. 
 The present mode of travel is by railway mostly ; but 
 in the past it was not so. I have gone to Conference 
 on the boat, on the cars, on wheels, on horseback, and 
 on foot. The last mentioned is the most independent 
 way of going ; then there are no fees to pay, no horse 
 to feed, no wheels to grease, and no one to be thanked ; 
 but still I would not advise that way of going, as it is 
 a little wearisome. And I have gone to Conference 
 when it took me three full days' travel to reach it ; 
 and I have gone when a few minutes' walk would take 
 me to it. 
 
 I have met with interesting episodes before now 
 when on my way to Conference. I propose to relate a 
 few of them. Once I was going from Teeswater to 
 Ingersoll. The country was new and the roads any- 
 thing but good. I had no horse ; I shouldered my 
 carpet-bag and started off on foot. I did not know 
 whether I should have to walk all the way or not. 
 The nearest railroad to me was the Grand Trunk at 
 Guelph or Stratford, and the Grand Trunk did not go 
 to Ingersoll at that time. When I got as far as Lis- 
 towel I found that the preacher there, Peter Hicks, 
 was going to Conference with a horse and buggy. He 
 kindly offered me a chance to ride with him, which 
 offer I thankfully accepted. We started early in the 
 morning and reached the village of Mitchell by noon. 
 
84 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 We fed the horse and got dinner at a hotel. We went 
 on to Stratford and fed the horse. There we inquired 
 the road, and after getting what information we could 
 we started on, intending to go to the home of Mr. T. B. 
 Brown, a local preacher with whom I was acquainted. 
 We got on the wrong road; night came on us and 
 found us in the midst of a settlement of Irish Catho- 
 lics. At length we came to a little wayside tavern. It 
 hardly could be called a hotel. We drove up to the 
 door and went in. About a dozen men were drinking 
 in the bar-room. We looked around and saw the con- 
 dition of things, and then went out for a consultation, 
 after inquiring the distance to St. Mary's. We talked 
 the matter over a little, when Hicks said, " I will go in 
 and see if any Orangemen are there." He came out 
 shortly and said, " They are Papists, every one of them, 
 and the landlord is the biggest dogan of the lot." This 
 was not very reassuring intelligence. However, we 
 concluded to stay, as there seemed no help for it. We 
 went in again and asked the landlord if he could 
 accommodate us with supper and bed, and the horse 
 with hay and oats. He said, " You must see the missus 
 about the supper, as it is after hours, but I can promise 
 you the rest." I said to Hicks, " You look after the 
 horse, and I will see about the supper." I hunted up 
 the landlady, whom I found putting away the newly 
 washed dishes. I explained the reason of our coming 
 in so late. I told her that we were very hungry, and 
 asked her to let us have some supper. She very good 
 naturedly set about it, and in a few minutes she had a 
 very respectable meal ready for us. Meanwhile the 
 
GOING TO CONFERENCE. 85 
 
 noise in the bar-room became more boisterous and loud. 
 We ate our supper and then went out to fix up the 
 horse for the night. That beincr done, we went to our 
 room for the nisfht. We fastened the door and then 
 considered the situation. We could hear from the bar- 
 room every now and then angry words and oaths and 
 imprecations. We could not tell who were the sub- 
 jects of these anathemas, but we had no doubt they 
 suspected that we were Protestant ministers by the 
 glances that would pass between them as we went out 
 and in through the room. 
 
 We did not get into bed until long after midnight, 
 and after the noisy rabble had gone off and the house 
 became quiet. In the morning we did not wait for 
 breakfast, but we went on a few miles and called at a 
 farmhouse and got breakfast. They told us there 
 that we had done well to get away without trouble, as 
 the place was a very rough one. We did not stop 
 there when we came back. The action of the lady on 
 that occasion harmonizes with a statement made by 
 the late Dr. Livingstone in respect to the women in 
 Africa. He says that he never asked a woman a ques- 
 tion and did not receive a civil answer, and he never 
 asked a favour that was not courteously granted if in 
 her power to do so. 
 
 The first man I met that I knew, as we drove 
 into Ingersoll, was one who was a very popular 
 preacher when I was working as a mechanic. He had 
 been my pastor for two years, and I loved him as my 
 own brother ; but he had been expelled for drunken- 
 ness some time before. When he saw me, he ran across 
 
86 EXPERIENCES O?" A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 the street to meet me : with tears in his eyes, and sob- 
 bing like a home-sick child, he said, " Oh, Brother Hilts, 
 what would I not give to-day, if I had it, to be as I was 
 when you first met me.'" My heart ached for that man. 
 He had been one of the most genial and afiable men 
 that I had ever known ; but the love of drink was his 
 bane through life. He had inherited alcoholism from 
 his parents, and had not sufficient self-government nor 
 grace to control it. I have been told that he died under 
 the shadow of a tree, on the Pacific coast, as he was 
 trying to make his way to the gold fields of Cariboo. 
 
 An Uncircumcised Ishmaelite. 
 
 Before the extension of the Northern 'Railwa.j to 
 Meaford, people had to go to Colling wood before they 
 could take the cars. I was on my way to Conference, 
 which was to meet in Port Perry. While waiting at 
 the Collingwood station an elderly gentleman came up 
 to me and said, " Mister, did you not preach in the M. 
 E. Church in Meaford last night ? " I said, " Yes, sir ; 
 or at least I tried to do so." "Well," said he, "my 
 name is Blank ; I have been from home a while, and I 
 have not been as good as I might have been, so I 
 thought that I would go to church last night. My 
 wife is a member of that church, and she is a good 
 woman, and I think she will be pleased when I tell 
 her that I have gone to church while I have been from 
 home." We went into the car and Mr. B. sat in the 
 seat with me. Presently he said, " Look here, mister, 
 you men like to find a good table to sit down to and a 
 good stable to put your horse in. I have got both of 
 
GOING TO CONFERENCE. 87 
 
 these at home." " Well," said I, " the preachers call on 
 you sometimes, I hope," " Yes," he said, " they do 
 often, and I am glad to have them come. They call 
 me the kind-hearted and good-natured " uncircumcised 
 Ishmaelite." I told him that I was glad that the 
 preachers liked him, and that I hoped they w.ould do 
 him good. " Well," he replied, "I like them well enough, 
 but either they can't or they won't answer my ques- 
 tions." I said, " Perhaps your questions are unanswer- 
 able." He then said, " Will you tell me how many 
 folks Abraham and his wife took with them when they 
 went to Egypt ? " I said, " Sir, I can't tell ; I never 
 studied that question, and I don't think it is found in 
 any of the arithmetics that I have seen." He asked 
 me a number of questions on different subjects, but I 
 played shy of all of them until he seemed to get a * 
 little nettled. At last I said to him, " Mr. B., I am too 
 old to think that I know a great deal, but I can tell 
 you how to get your questions all answered.." " How ?" 
 said he. " The first young man you meet with who 
 has plenty of conceit, with no beard on his face and 
 but little brains in his head, ask him and he will tell 
 you all about it." 
 
 By this time we had reached Newmarket. I stopped 
 over till the next day. When I came to the station 
 in the morning I found Mr. Blank, along with a num- 
 ber of others, waiting for the train. As soon as I 
 got on the platform he came to me and said, " Mister, 
 you dodged all my questions yesterday ; now I have 
 one that I really wish to have answered. It is this : 
 " Has a negro a soul ? " I said, " I think he has ; he is 
 
88 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 a man, and every man has a soul." " Well, how does 
 he come to be black ? " I answered that probably 
 climatic influences and habits of life had a good deal 
 to do with making him black. " Hot climates make 
 people dark, and cold climates make them fair." I said. 
 He said, " I don't believe that ; for there are darkies in 
 the Southern States whose ancestors came there two 
 hundred years ago, and they are just as black as their 
 forefathers were the day they left Africa." " That may 
 be all true," I answered; "but then the hot climate 
 of the Southern States is not the most favourable sur- 
 roundings for a negro if you want to bleach him. 
 Have you never seen one in a transition state ? " I 
 asked him. " No," said he, " I never have. Have 
 you ? " I said, " I think so ; at any rate, I have seen 
 men that, for the life of me, I could not tell whether 
 they were faded negroes or tanned white men." Mr. 
 Blank was a very dark-complexioned man. He looked 
 at me for a minute, and then said, "Did you mean 
 that for me ? " " By no means sir," I said ; " I had noth- 
 ing personal in my intention. I simply stated a fact in 
 replying to your question, if I had seen a negro in a 
 transition state." The train came up and we parted, 
 and I have never met him since ; but af t^ all I could 
 not help liking the man, and I hope he may do well. 
 
 A Southern Blasphemer Silenced. 
 
 The civil war in America produced a large crop of 
 *' bounty -jumpers " and " skedaddlers." The former 
 came from the North as a general thing, and the latter 
 mostly came from the South. Many of these were the 
 
GOING TO CONFERENCE. 89 
 
 sons of Southern gentlemen who thought too much of 
 slavery to let it die an easy death, and too much of 
 themselves to take a soldier's chances in the field of 
 battle to keep it alive. 
 
 When the negro was about to be carried to freedom 
 on a wave of blood, these chivalrous defenders of this 
 peculiar institution betook themselves to a land where 
 the bondsman's footprints are never seen, a land where 
 the black man is entitled to "life, liberty and the pur- 
 suit of happiness," as well as his white neighbour. 
 
 On a sunny day in the spring, one of the Grand 
 Trunk cars going east from Toronto was partly filled 
 with Methodist ministers on their way to Conference. 
 In a seat near the centre of the car there sat a man 
 of striking appearance : he was tall, and straight, 
 and rawboned. His complexion had that peculiar 
 blending of shades of colour that made it hard to tell 
 to what branch of the human race he claimed affinity ; 
 his features, too, were a puzzle : his black eye had a 
 look that might indicate cruelty and stoicism ; his 
 forehead gave proof of a strong intellect ; his mouth 
 and chin were those of a man of an unbending will, 
 while his nose gave the lie to all the rest, and unmis- 
 takably proclaimed him a coward. 
 
 A number of miles had been passed over without 
 anything to disturb the people or attract attention, 
 when there cam^ a volley of oaths from the man in 
 the centre seat, that made the men look up with 
 astonishment, and the women fairly wilt like a 
 scorched leaf. The terrible words came from the 
 Southerner. Just behind him there sat a minister by 
 
90 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 the name of D. Carscaden. He was a slender man and 
 not at all strong ; but he could not tolerate such out- 
 rageous blasphemy. He very gently and kindly in- 
 formed the swearer that his language was painful to 
 him and many others in the car. This only made 
 matters worse ; the man got angry at this. The string 
 of terrible oaths that he rolled out beat everything 
 that I had ever heard, and the look of contempt that 
 he cast upon poor Carscaden was enough to drive a 
 stronger man than he was into hysterics. Just in the 
 midst of the volcanic eruptions of dreadful words that 
 one might imagine came right from the brimstone 
 regions, a hand was laid on the swearer's shoulder ; 
 he looked up to see to whom the hand belonged ; he 
 saw standing in the aisle beside him a man of orrand 
 muscular development and fearless aspect. He said to 
 the blasphemer, "Sir, you must stop this at once, or 
 this train will be slackened up and you will be put 
 out of the car. When you are in your own country, 
 you can do as you please, if people will let you ; but 
 in this country you must behave yourself if you ex- 
 pect to travel in the cars. Now, not another word of 
 that sort, or the conductor will be called and you will 
 go out." 
 
 This was another minister, 0. G. Collamore ; I know 
 he will excuse my naming him ; he is too much of a 
 man to be ashamed of a manly action. 
 
 When Collamore sat down, the Southerner came out 
 of his seat and walked iip and down the aisle for a 
 few times scanning his new opponent closely, as if to 
 take the measure of the man. What his conclusions 
 
GOING TO CONFERENCE. 91 
 
 were can only be inferred from his action. He went 
 back into his seat. This episode created quite a sen- 
 sation in the car and everybody felt that the matter 
 was not yet ended. 
 
 After a little, the man spoke to the following effect, 
 as nearly as I can recall his words to mind : " Ladies 
 and gentlemen, I owe an apology to you all for the 
 language that I have been using. Whatever you may 
 think of me, don't lay the blame upon my parents ; 
 they taught me better than to speak such words, 
 especially in the presence of ladies. I am sorry for 
 what I did, and I will not do it again." 
 
 Every one felt a relief at the turn the affair took, 
 and I think the Southerner had more respect for 
 Canadians than he would if he had been allowed to 
 go on unchecked. 
 
 Meeting a Man of Mark. 
 I was not going to Conference at the time that the 
 incident occurred that I am about to relate, but still I 
 was travelling on the cars. The Great Western Rail- 
 way had but recently been opened for traffic. One 
 morning in the early spring, I was, along with others, 
 sitting in a car at Hamilton station, waiting for the 
 train to start west. An old woman came into the car 
 selling apples. As she passed along the aisle, she came 
 to an elderly gentleman, whose fatherly appearance 
 and kindly look seemed to give the old woman confi- 
 dence, so that she continued to press him to buy, after 
 he had told her that he did not need any of her fruit. 
 Presently he said to her : 
 
92 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 ''' Madam, have you any children ? " 
 
 She answered him, '• Indade, sir, I have six of them 
 and so I have, and I their mother, am a poor widdy, 
 and so I am. And it's to thry and get a crumb for the 
 little dears that I am here selling apples the day, and 
 so it is." 
 
 " Well," he said, " how much will you take for all 
 that you have in your basket ? " 
 
 She counted them all over and fixed the price. He 
 then gave her the money for them, and said to her : 
 
 " Now these apples are mine, to do with them as I 
 please." 
 
 " Yes, sir," she said. " You do what you please wid 
 'em, only give me back my basket ? " 
 
 " Now," said the man, " I am going to trust you to 
 do with those apples as I tell you." 
 
 " And what do you want me to do wid them, sir. I 
 must have me basket anyway." 
 
 " I want you to take the apples home and divide 
 them among your children," said he. " Will you do 
 it?" 
 
 I will not try to give the number, or describe the 
 quality of the blessings that the old woman invoked 
 upon the body and soul of the kind stranger. After 
 she left the train, he said to me : 
 
 " Likely she will sell them before she gets home, but 
 if she does, that is her business and not mine. I gave 
 them to her in good faith for her children, and if she 
 deceives me, and robs them, she alone will be re- 
 sponsible." 
 
 The train started, and nothing more was said about 
 
GOING TO CONFERENCE. 93 
 
 the old woman or her apples. When we got to Paris, 
 the engine ran off the track, and we were detained for 
 about sixteen hours before we could proceed. During 
 the time I got into conversation with the man who 
 bought the apples. Among other things he said to 
 me : 
 
 *' I try to get into conversation with all classes of 
 people that I meet with. So much can be learned by 
 taking people on their own ground. You are always 
 safe in speaking to people about what they feel a great 
 deal ofc' interest in. You may at any time or in any 
 place speak to a mother about her children. See how 
 quick that woman was drawn out this morning when 
 her children were mentioned. Just so you may speak 
 to a man about his trade or calling. You may speak 
 to an invalid about his sufferings, or to a penitent sin- 
 ner about salvation, and be sure of a willing listener." 
 
 Before parting from this interesting stranger, I said 
 to him : 
 
 " Sir, I have been much interested and highly pleased 
 during the time that we have been together. Will you 
 permit me to ask you, where do you live, and what is 
 your name ? " 
 
 He answered, with a pleasant smile upon his face : 
 " As to where 1 live, it is not easy to say. My home 
 is anywhere within the limits of the British Empire, 
 or within the hospitalities of the English-speaking 
 race. But as to my name, it is not so hard to answer 
 Have you ever heard of Alexander DufF? " 
 
 I said I had read in the papers about a man of that 
 name, who is a Presbyterian missionary to India." 
 
94 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 He said, " I am he." 
 
 " Well, sir," [ answered, " I am not a Scotchman, nor 
 a Presbyterian, but as a Briton, a Canadian, and a 
 Christian, I must, before leaving you, have a shake of 
 your hand, and bid you God-speed, and I pray that 
 the Lord may guide you on your way and help you in 
 your work." 
 
 He thanked me cordially for my good wishes, and 
 we shook hands and parted. I was highly gratified 
 by having seen and conversed with a man who, at 
 that time, was looming up before the Christian world 
 as a star of the first magnitude. I find in his descrip- 
 tion of his visit to this country a reference to the 
 accident at Paris, but he says nothing about the apple 
 woman and her children. 
 
 Bad News at Conference. 
 
 On my way to Conference I often met with things 
 that interested me. But at the Conference I sometimes 
 heard things that made me sad. It may seem strange 
 that, although I have lost many friends and relatives 
 during the fifty years that have elapsed since the death 
 of my mother, I have only been permitted to attend 
 the funeral of three of them — two children and one 
 grandchild. That is all. The Lord gave us five sons 
 and three daughters. The latter are all dead and are 
 buried in different counties, far apart. One lies be- 
 side its maternal grandfather in Lincoln county ; the 
 other two sleep among strangers in the counties of 
 Grey and Bruce. 
 
 There are times when itinerants are lost to their 
 
GOING TO CONFERENCE. 95 
 
 friends. This is caused by removals from place to 
 place, and from neorlect in giving information as to 
 present location. There is really no necessity for this 
 in a country with post-offices in every little village. 
 But sometimes people do not communicate with their 
 distant friends, because of the unpleasant truths that 
 they would tell if they sent to inform their friends 
 of the circumstances in which they were placed. 
 Some people will suffer in silence rather than annoy 
 others with a recitation of their troubles. Sickness 
 comes and goes and nothing is said about it. Death 
 takes place in sundered families and no intelligence is 
 given until long afterwards. In my own case the Con- 
 ference has been a sort of sad medium of communication 
 between the living and the dead. At one Conference I 
 was told of a sister's departure from this life. At another 
 I heard that my brother had died and was buried. At 
 Conference I first heard of the death of my father, my 
 stepmother, my wife's mother and stepfather, besides 
 other relatives. 
 
 Ministers are always willing to enlighten each other 
 and to help each other, and to sympathize with and 
 help each other's friends as far as they can. At least, 
 that has been my experience with them. While every 
 person is supposed to have a place in the affectionate 
 regards of the Methodist minister, I think I am not 
 overstating the case when I say that, other things 
 being equal, there is a peculiar drawing on his part to 
 the family and friends of his brother ministers. I am 
 free to confess that it is the case with regard to myself, 
 and I have often heard others say the same. 
 
96 
 
 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 I have not missed a Conference in thirty years. I 
 have been a member of twenty-eight Annual Confer- 
 ences, and I have been in my seat at every session 
 from first to last, with the exception of one day. I 
 have been a member of four General Conferences. 
 From one of these I was kept by sickness. I started 
 to go, but I had to return home too sick to go on. 
 But after all, I like very much to go to Conference, 
 and I shall be very sorry if the time ever comes that I 
 am not able to do so, until the time comes for me to 
 answer to my name at the great roll-call of Conference 
 above. 
 
 ■j^>:-'^"'^ 
 
CHAPTBE V. 
 
 CAMP-MEETINGS. 
 
 IF there is any place on earth that is more 
 like heaven than a good live camp-meet- 
 ing, I should like to hear from it. 1 would be 
 pleased to know where it is, and on what grounds the 
 claim is made. To commune with nature, is, to a 
 devout mind, a precious privilege. To commune with 
 good people is a blessed means of grace. And to com- 
 mune with God is a greater blessing than either or 
 both of these. To hold converse with nature, tends to 
 expand the intellect and quicken the sensibilities. 
 To hold friendly intercourse with the good elevates, 
 refines, and stimulates the social and moral elements of 
 our being. And to commune with God purifies and 
 exalts our whole nature, and inspires us to a holier 
 life and loftier aims and a fuller consecration to the 
 service of God. 
 
 In the original idea of the camp-meeting we are at 
 the same time, and in the same place, brought in con- 
 verse with nature, in religious fellowship with the good 
 and in sweet communion with God. I know of no 
 place where the ethical^ esthetical, social and spiritiuU 
 
98 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACBER. 
 
 wants of humanity are more fully provided for than at 
 the camp-meeting. There some of the most soul-in- 
 spiring scenes that earth can furnish may be witnessed. 
 When a strong religious influence is felt by the 
 assembled worshippers as, with cheerful voices they 
 ring out the melody of their gladdened hearts, where 
 is the soul so dead as not to feel an impulse drawing 
 heavenward ? The trees that surround this leafy 
 temple seem to catch the spirit of song, and send back 
 to the ears of the happy worshippers in pleasing 
 echoes the very words they are giving utterance to. 
 The leaves upon the forest trees as they are swept by 
 the ascending currents of air that are heated by the 
 "light-stand" fires, seem to vie with the human 
 singers as they rustle to the praise of Him who gave 
 to them their numbers and their beauty. Even the 
 shadows cast by the trees and limbs that intercept 
 the lights of the camp-fires seem to enter into the 
 spirit of the occasion, and point upward to a realm 
 where darkness is unheard of and shadows are un- 
 known. 
 
 My first experience with camp-meetings was many 
 years ago. When thirteen years old, I was permitted 
 to go with my parents to one at a place called Beech- 
 woods, in 1832. At that camp-meeting there were one 
 or two of the Ryersons, James Richardson, one of the 
 Evans, and other preachers both Canadian and Ameri- 
 can. 
 
 There was a camp of Indians on the ground too. 
 They would sometimes sing. That was a source of en- 
 joyment to the younger portion of the audience. The 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 99 
 
 prayer- meetings were in a square enclosure made by 
 placing long poles on the top of posts set at the four 
 angles, so that the poles would be some three feet from 
 the ground. At one corner there was left an opening 
 for entrance and exit. 
 
 My parents had a share in a tent, and we remained 
 on the encampment from the beginning to the end of 
 the meetings. 
 
 For the first two or three days the novelty of my 
 surroundings tended to banish serious thoughts from 
 my mind. Bt^t as the meetings progressed, a num- 
 ber of the young people were converted. My attention 
 was at last arrested by two young girls, I think they 
 were sisters. I saw them go into the place, and kneel, 
 weeping, at the altar for prayer. It was not long till 
 they were both blessed. Then they began to sing 
 " Come, ye sinners, poor and needy." The congregation 
 joined in, and the woods rang with the voices of a. 
 hundred or more as they rolled on the old invitation 
 " Come." The singing was after the manner of happy 
 children whose hearts were full of joy and their souls 
 full of melody, rather than like the cold, majestic per- 
 formances of some of the stately choristers of our 
 times. 
 
 I was standing up against the poles and listening to 
 the singing, when my mother came to me, saying, " My 
 son, you are old enough to sin, so you are old enough 
 to be converted ; don't you want to come and be saved ?*' 
 I bent down and crept in under the pole, and went to 
 the penitent form. My mother knelt beside me. And 
 it seemed to me that I had never heard such praying 
 
100 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 as she did then and there for me. My father came 
 and knelt by me, too, and joined his prayers to mother's. 
 Up till then I had thought that I was not a very bad 
 boy, but now it seemed to me that every mean and 
 sinful thing that I had ever said or done was called up 
 before me just to torture my wounded spirit. 1 tried 
 to pray for myself, but the words seemed to stop in 
 my throat and choke me. Despair was fast seizing 
 upon me, when one of the preachers came and said to 
 me, " Can't you say, ' Here, Lord, I give myself away, 
 tis all that I can do.' " I commenced to say it. Before 
 the words were spoken, my soul was full of light and 
 my heart was filled with joy unspeakable. Then I was 
 converted. And now, after all the intervening years I 
 look back to that day and that spot with the same 
 feelings that prompted some one to write, 
 
 "There is a place to me more dear 
 
 Than native vale or mountain — 
 A place for which affection's tear 
 
 Springs grateful from its fountain ; 
 'Tis not where kindred souls abound, 
 
 Tho' that were almost Heaven, 
 But where I first my Saviour found 
 
 And felt my sins forgiven." 
 
 With what thrilling memories I can still declare in 
 honesty, 
 
 " Hard was my toil to reach the shore. 
 As, tossed upon the ocean, 
 Above me was the thunder's roar. 
 Beneath the waves' commotion." 
 
 And, as it were, to add to the horrors of the scene, 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 101 
 
 ** Darkly the pall of night was thrown 
 Around me, faint with terror ; 
 In that sad hour, how did my groan 
 Ascend for years of error." 
 
 And still the night grew darker, and the storm grew 
 fiercer, and the waves rose higher, and the wind grew 
 stronger, and the thunder louder, till, 
 
 " Sinking and gasping as for breath, 
 
 I knew not help was near me ; 
 I cried, 'Oh! save me. Lord, from death; 
 
 Immortal Jesus, save me.' 
 Then, quick as thought, I felt Him mine — 
 
 My Saviour stood before me ; 
 Around me did His brightness shine ; 
 
 I shouted, * Glory ! glory ! ' " 
 
 The memory of that blessed moment shall not pass 
 away while reason holds her throne, and consciousness 
 performs its wonted task. And still I say, 
 
 "0! sacred hour; O! hallowed spot, 
 
 Where love divine first found me ; 
 Whate'er shall be my distant lot. 
 
 My heart shall linger round thee. 
 And when from earth I rise to soar 
 
 Up to my home in Heaven, 
 Down will I cast my eyes once more, 
 
 Where I was first forgiven." 
 
 I once heard an old man say at a camp-meeting love- 
 feast, that the dearest spot on earth to him was in a 
 ditch under a hedge in Ireland. There it was where 
 he was converted. 
 
 But I fear I have lingered too long on this old 
 camp-ground. I have been at a good many such 
 places since, but I shall mention only a few of them. 
 
102 experiences of a backwoods preacher. 
 
 Mono Camp-Meeting. 
 
 During the second year of my itinerant life I 
 attended a camp-meeting in the townships of Mono on 
 the Orangeville mission. There were a number of 
 preachers at that meeting. But they are all gone 
 from this country, or from this world, but the Rev. 
 George Hartley, of the Guelph Conference, and myself. 
 I had been extensively engaged in revival work on 
 Garafraxa Circuit, and I enjoyed it very much. I 
 went into the work with all my might at that meet- 
 ing. I did a good deal at the leading of prayer- 
 meetings. 
 
 One night my wife said to me, " Do you know that 
 you are the noisiest man on the ground ? " Now, I 
 had always been called one of the still kind of Meth- 
 odists, and sometimes people had said that my religion 
 was of the Presbyterian type — not much noise about it. 
 But to be told that I was the most noisy one among a 
 noisy lot of men, was something new to me. But 
 when I came calmly to think the matter over I con- 
 cluded that my wife had told only the truth. But 
 what should I do. I was now fully committed to the 
 work, and it seemed to be doing good. Finally I made 
 up my mind to go through as I had begun. 
 
 One afternoon it came on to rain. The outside 
 services were broken up, and the people gathered into 
 a long tent for a prayer-meeting. After a while the 
 Rev. I. B. Richardson, who had charge of the meeting, 
 came to me and said, " We must have preaching now 
 for a change, and you must preach." I said, " All right ; 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 103 
 
 you line a hymn while I hunt a text." I chose the 
 words, " This man receiveth sinners." It was an easy 
 place to preach. The presence of God was amon^ the 
 people. While I was trying to encourage sinners to 
 come to Jesus and be saved, one man was con- 
 verted as he sat on his seat. He began to praise 
 the Lord at the top of his voice. Others joined 
 in with him, and then some of the preachers 
 started to shout. This was like a signal for a 
 general hallelujah service. In a few minutes my 
 voice was completely lost in the hurricane of sound that 
 came from that tent full of people. There was no 
 more preaching at that time. Mr. Richardson, who 
 had done a good share of the shouting, took charge of 
 the meetinnr. 
 
 The man who was converted was William Bacon, of 
 Melville, in Caledon. He lived a Christian life, and 
 some years ago he died a happy death, and no doubt 
 went up to see the receiver of sinners in His own 
 bright home. At the time that I received the paper 
 that contained the obituary notice of Brother Bacon's 
 death I was in poor health, and I had been harrassed 
 in my mind for some days. I suppose it was a 
 temptation. But it had seemed to me that perhaps 
 after all I had mistaken my calling. I had thought, 
 that if I had kept to a secular pursuit, it might be 
 that now in my old age, with a broken down constitu- 
 tion, I might not be so helpless and so entirely depen- 
 dent upon others. When I read the article of Rev. 
 G. Clark concerning the conversion, and life, and death 
 of Brother Bacon, I said that will do. If I have been 
 
104 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 the means of helping one soul into the kingdom, and 
 who has made a safe journey to the home of the blest, 
 my life has not been in vain. 
 
 The Melville Camp-Meeting. 
 
 Some years after the Mono camp-meeting there was 
 one at Melville on the same circuit. The tent-holders 
 were nearly the same in both cases. Among them 
 were the Hughsons, Johnstons, Wilcoxes, Bacons, and 
 others, whose names I do not now call to mind. The 
 meeting was well attended, and a good work was 
 accomplished. The late Rev. William Woodward was 
 the manager of the meeting ; John H. Watts was the 
 stationed minister. I should have said that Rev. 
 Henry Jones was on the circuit at the time of the 
 Mono camp-meeting. 
 
 At Melville there were a number of our ministers 
 present. Among them were Revs. W. H. Shaw, A. L. 
 Thurston, J. W. Mackay, E. Will, and some others. Per- 
 haps the most noticeable circumstance there, was the 
 preaching of an Irish local preacher, whose name was 
 Thomas Moore. At the close of the forenoon services 
 one day the Rev. Woodward told the audience that at 
 2 p.m. the stand would be occupied by Brother Thomas 
 Moore, a preaching farmer from Garafraxa. At this 
 announcement there was no little stir among the lead- 
 ing laLyraen on the ground. Mr. Moore was by no 
 means prepossessing either in appearance or manner, 
 and he had an awkward and clumsy way of expressing 
 himself in ordinary conversation. Some of the dissatis- 
 fied ones came to me, knowing that Moore lived on 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 105 
 
 my circuit. I listened to them until they had said all 
 they felt like saying ; then I said to them, " Brethren, 
 I know Mr. Moore ; all that you say about his appear- 
 ance and manner is true, but I want to say just two 
 things. He is an honest, devoted Christian man, who 
 tries to do his duty everywhere and at all times ; and 
 you will be surprised when you hear him." " Well," 
 said they, " what is the sense of putting a farmer up 
 there while there are so many other men here ? " My 
 answer was only one word, " Wait.'' And they did 
 wait with a good deal of anxiety and some vexation 
 till two o'clock came. 
 
 Appearance has much to do with success or failure 
 in the pulpit ; so has a man's manner and his voice. 
 When all these combine to evoke adverse criticism, the 
 chances of success are largely against a speaker. This 
 was to a certain extent the case with Mr. Moore. When 
 the time for the two o'clock service arrived it was 
 raining. The people crowded into a large tent. This 
 was literally packed ; there was hardly room for the 
 preacher to stand inside the tent. People were stand- 
 ing in the doorway,. so that the light was very imper- 
 fect, making it difficult to read the hymns. The result 
 of this was that Moore made two or three mistakes in 
 reading the first hymn. This only made matters still 
 worse. One minister, who sat beside me, when he 
 heard the way the hymn was being read, got up and 
 went away, saying, " Tut, tut ; that man can't preach." 
 
 I became very uneasy, so did other friends of Mr. 
 Moore. He selected as a text the 6th and 7th verses 
 of the 25th chapter of Isaiah. When he read this pas- 
 
106 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 sage it seemed to me that he must have lost his usual 
 good sense, or he would not have taken such a text in 
 such a place. I feared an entire failure. 
 
 He had only uttered a few sentences when it became 
 evident that he knew what he was doing. And as he 
 went on, opening up with the subject and explaining 
 the various metaphors found in this highly figurative 
 passage, the audience began to take a deep interest in 
 the discourse. And as the speaker became more at 
 home in the anomalous position in which he was placed, 
 he seemed to catch an inspiration that carried him 
 away above himself, and beyond anything that his 
 most intimate friends had ever thought him capable of 
 doing. I had often heard him preach, and preach well ; 
 but in his effort that day I was completely taken by 
 surprise — so was every one else. Before he got done 
 speaking that was one of the noisiest audiences that 
 I have been in. Some were shouting, some were w^eep- 
 ing, and others praying. That sermon was talked 
 about more than all the other discourses delivered at 
 that camp-meeting. One reason of this was found in 
 the contrast between the man's appearance and his 
 work. Another reason was, the people had expected 
 so little and got so much that they were carried from 
 the lowest degree of appreciation to the highest point 
 of admiration and enthusiasm. Some time after I 
 asked Mr. Moore where he got that sermon. I said to 
 him, " I know that you only read the Bible ; but in 
 that sermon are allusions and illustrations not to be 
 found in the Bible." " Well," said he, " the fact is, when 
 I was a boy, I heard that sermon preached by one of 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 107 
 
 Ireland's greatest men, and I knew that I could repeat 
 the most of it. So when I was set up to preach before 
 so many preachers and people, I thought I would give 
 them that, as it is so much better than anything of my 
 own." " Well," I answered, " that sermon has given 
 you a reputation. And if you ever go to Orangeville 
 to preach, you will find great difficulty in meeting the 
 expectations of the people." 
 
 In the Thick Pinery. 
 
 When I was on the Garafraxa Circuit the second 
 time, I took my eldest daughter with me, and went to 
 a camp-meeting on the Flamboro' Circuit. The camp- 
 ground was in a thick pinery. As the sun was climb- 
 ing up the eastern sky, the tall majestic trees would 
 send their shadows clear across the encampment, as if 
 to give us puny mortals the measure of our littleness. 
 And while we were engaged in worship at their base, 
 they lifted their cone-shaped heads half a hundred 
 yards above us, as if to show us how far they had got 
 ahead of us in the upward journey. But like haughty 
 upstarts everywhere, they overlooked the humility of 
 their origin and the smallness of their beginning. 
 They ignored the fact that they once had been so little 
 that a dewdrop falling on them would have bent them, 
 or a fawn stepping on them might have broken them. 
 And another encouraging thought is this. Their pre- 
 sent altitude has been gained only after centuries of 
 growth. Give us time to grow, and we, too, shall rise 
 above our present moral and spiritual standard. 
 
 Two or three notable incidents occurred at this meet- 
 
108 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 ing. One of these was an old woman's conversion. 
 While passing around among the people one day, when 
 the prayer-meeting was going on, I came to an old lady 
 who was weeping bitterly. I asked her what was the 
 matter. Her answer touched my heart. 
 
 " O, sir," she said, " I am past seventy years old, and 
 for the first time in my life I realize that I am a sinner. 
 I thought that if I was honest and industrious and 
 truthful, and went to church when I could, I was safe 
 enough. But now I see that I have been labouring 
 under a mistake. What shall I do ? " 
 
 I told her to go forward to the place where a num- 
 ber of Christians were praying for just such as she felt 
 herself to be. 
 
 She said, " I would gladly go, but I am so crippled 
 with rheumatism that I cannot do so without help." 
 
 I went and brought two of the working sisters, and 
 they took the old woman to the altar. Before long 
 she was made very happy in the consciousness of par- 
 don. Her shouts of joy and gladness could be heard 
 all over the encampment, she was so very thankful 
 that she had found the light at last after toiling so 
 many long years in darkness. 
 
 Another incident that I will mention was connected 
 with the class-meetings on Sunday morning, when a 
 good Presbyterian was made happy. Among the tents 
 on the ground was one that belonged to two families 
 conjointly. One family was Methodist and the other 
 Presbyterian. In that tent I was appointed to lead 
 the class-meeting on Sunday morning. After I had 
 spoken to four or five, I came to the Presbyterian 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 109 
 
 brother, who, with his wife, owned part of the tent. 
 Both of them stayed in for the service. I asked him 
 what good things he had to tell of the Lord's dealings 
 with him. He rose up and said, " I dare not speak as 
 those have spoken ; I cannot say that I am a child of 
 God ; I do not know my sins forgiven — I wish with all 
 my heart that I could, but in honest truth I cannot. 
 After giving him a few words of counsel, I passed on 
 to others. The presence of the Lord was with us in 
 that consecrated tent on that beautiful Sabbath morn- 
 ing. Souls were blest and hearts were filled with the 
 joy that springs only from an evidence of our accept- 
 ance with God. 
 
 Before closing we all knelt in prayer. When we 
 arose the Presbyterian said to me, " Sir, will you allow 
 me to speak again ? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir, if you wish to do so," was my answer. 
 
 " Well," said he, " in this tent this morning I have 
 found what I never before thought was for me. Now 
 I know my sins forgiven. My soul is happy, my heart 
 is full. Blessed light shines upon my pathway, and 
 the future is all glorious." 
 
 Before the close of the camp-meeting this brother 
 asked me if he ought to leave his church and join the 
 Methodist. I said to him, " By no means. In seeking 
 church relations two questions are to be considered. 
 One is, where can I do most good ? The other is, where 
 can I get the most good ? Now, if people intend to be 
 more helpless than useful, they should go where they 
 will get the most good ; but if they intend to do all 
 they can for God and His cause, tliey must go where 
 
110 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 they can do the most good. My opinion is that you 
 can be most useful in your old church, and therefore I 
 advise you to remain there." 
 
 She Wanted the Gaelic. 
 
 One night I was leading a prayer-meeting in one of 
 the tents. A number of persons came to the penitent 
 form to be prayed for. Among them was a Highland 
 Scotchwoman. She was greatly in earnest about her 
 soul. At length she got into an agony of spirit, and 
 was seemingly on the very border of despair. I was 
 trying to speak to her as best I could. She turned to 
 me and said, " Sir, could you no pray for me in ta 
 Gaelic ? " I said, " No, but I will try and find one who 
 can." I called a brother that I knew could speak the 
 Gaelic, and told him what was wanted. He knelt by 
 her side and began to pray in the tongue she had so 
 often heard among her far-off native mountains. The 
 efi'ect was marvellous. In a very short time she looked 
 up toward the stars, threw up her hands and gave one 
 loud shout, saying " Glory," and fell over like one dead. 
 
 Some of those in the tent were frightened. But 
 they soon became calm when I told them there was no 
 danger. It turned out that the man that I called in 
 was a near neighbour of the woman's. She lived 
 about half a mile from the ground, and was the mother 
 of a family of grown-up children. The man who I 
 called I think was a Mr. McNevins. He told me next 
 morning that the woman had lain for three hours in 
 the state in which she was when I left them. Then 
 she got up, praising the Lord, and started home. He 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. Ill 
 
 and one or two others went with her through the 
 woods. She went along shouting all the way. When 
 she got to her home she shouted and praised the Lord 
 until the family were awakened, and they at first 
 thought that " mother " was crazy. But she soon told 
 them what the Lord had done for her, and their fears 
 were removed. 
 
 Effectual Singing. 
 
 While the women were clearing off the tea-tables, 
 one evening, some young girls got together on an 
 elevated place, and commenced to sing some of the old- 
 time camp-meeting hymns. At first not much notice 
 was taken of them ; but one and another joined with 
 them until there were some twenty-five or thirty 
 young women and girls in the group. The singing 
 became louder and more animated as the number 
 of singers increased. Others, and older ones, now 
 began to join them, and in a short time the company 
 had so added to its numbers that it contained not less 
 than a hundred persons. Men, women and children 
 were mingling their voices in holy song. 
 
 I was standing on the opposite side of the encamp- 
 ment in conversation with another man. We heard a 
 loud shout, and started to see what it all meant. When 
 we came to the place, we found the people all in con- 
 fusion. Some were weeping, some were laughing, 
 and some were singing ; others were lying on the 
 ground as if they had been stricken down by an elec- 
 tric shock ; many of them were insensible. Among 
 the latter was my little girl, who I think was about 
 
112 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 fourteen years old at the time. I found hev lying with 
 her head on the arm of a stout, elderly woman who 
 was beside her. I took the girl up and carried her into 
 a tent, where she lay for an hour or more before she 
 came to herself. This went on until the time for the 
 evening service ; and it was only after two or three 
 fruitless efforts that order could be restored so as to 
 commence the regular service. The Rev. E. Bristol 
 had the control of this camp-meeting. 
 
 A Meeting at Rockwood. 
 
 Among the limestone ledges on the south side of 
 Eramosa township is a little village called Rockwood. 
 In a piece of woods near this place at one time there 
 was a very nice place for camp-meetings. One of 
 these I had the pleasure of attending during my 
 second term on the Elma mission. At that time the 
 Church in Loree's neighbourhood was strong and full 
 of life and energy. Many of those who composed the 
 membership at that time have gone away, some are in 
 heaven, some in Manitoba, and some in other places. 
 
 The meetings had been going on for two or three 
 days before anything of a specially interesting charac- 
 ter took place. 
 
 One niorht after the services had closed, and most of 
 the people had retired, a prayer-meeting was started 
 in one of the tents. In a short time the singing 
 attracted the attention of the people generally, then 
 shouts began to be heard ; some parties that had 
 started for home turned back. Many of those in the 
 tents came out to see what was going on. I had gone 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 113 
 
 into the tent where my wife and I were staying. 
 With others, I went out to the prayer-meeting. The 
 tent was a long double one, with a door on both sides 
 When I came to the place it was nearly full, and a 
 crowd standing at each door. When I came up to one 
 of the doors, I was addressed by a fine-looking young 
 man, who did not like the noise. He said to me, 
 " Mister, what do you think of all that racket in 
 there," as he pointed to the end where most of the 
 noise came from. I looked at him and said, " Were 
 you ever converted ? " He said, " No, sir, I never was." 
 " Do you believe in it ? " I asked him. " Yes, sir, I do ; 
 but I never can be, if I have to do as they are doing." 
 " Well, my friend," said I, " you need not trouble 
 yourself on that score ; salvation is not noise, but 
 sometimes a knowledge of salvation makes people 
 noisy. Get converted first, and then do what you 
 think is right. He said in great earnestness, " I do 
 wish that I was a Christian," and turning to me, he 
 said, " Will you pray for me here ? " " Yes," I said ; 
 " let us kneel down here." I commenced to pray for 
 him, and he began to pray for himself. In about two 
 minutes ho was on his feet jumping and shouting and 
 praising the Lord for what was done for him ; in fact, 
 he made more noise than any two of the noisy lot 
 that he was finding fault with a few moments before. 
 Next mornino: I met him on the ground, and I asked 
 him what he thought about the noise after last night. 
 His answer was, " Well, I never thought that getting 
 religion was anything like what it is ! Did I make 
 much noise." " Yes, some," I said ; " but perhaps not 
 any too much." 
 8 
 
114 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 Just after I parted from the young man, I was 
 standing in the door of the tent, and looking on one 
 of the wildest scenes that is to be witnessed among an 
 intelligent Christian community, when two young 
 women came in weeping as though their hearts were 
 breaking. They knelt down just inside the door. As 
 they came in I saw my wife standing in the crowd 
 and told her to come inside. Now, she never had any 
 faith in people falling down in meeting, and when she 
 saw some who had fallen lying in one end of the tent, 
 she drew back, saying she did not want to go among 
 them. I said, " You can talk to these two girls here ; 
 no one is paying any attention to them." " All right," 
 she said, " I will do that." She knelt down by them, 
 and began to talk to them. Soon one of them was 
 set free, and commenced to praise the Lord. My wife 
 gave one loud shout which made me look to where 
 she was. I found her on the floor perfectly motionless. 
 I found no little difficulty in saving her from being 
 trampled on by the men in the tent, who were paying 
 no attention to any one, only each one for himself. 
 Presently, I saw the old brother in whose tent we 
 were staying ; I motioned to him and he came to me. 
 We took her up and pressing our way out, we carried 
 her in and laid her on a bed for the night. 
 
 Next morning she was all right. I have never since 
 heard any fault-finding from that quarter about fall- 
 ing in meeting or making too much noise. But of late 
 years no one has had much reason to complain on that 
 score. Methodists are orettinor above that. 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 115 
 
 A Series of Camp-Meetings. 
 
 During the four years that I was on the Huron Dis- 
 trict as Presiding Elder, we had five camp-meetings. 
 At Hanover there were two, and two on Orangeville 
 Circuit, and one at Teeswater. A number of conver- 
 sions took place at each one of them. 
 
 The ministers on the district were generally good 
 men for such work, and many of the people were in 
 full sympathy with camp-meetings. 
 
 One thing that was very remarkable was the good 
 order that prevailed at every one of them. Though 
 hundreds of unconverted people, both old and young, 
 attended these meetings, yet I saw but very little dis- 
 order at any of them. It has been sometimes said 
 that people in the back settlements are uncultivated, 
 and lack refinement. Well, however that may be, 
 there is one thing that I am bold to say, and that is, I 
 have seen more lawlessness and rowdyism in one re- 
 ligious meeting held by the Salvation Army in a fron- 
 tier village than I saw at five camp-meetings in the 
 back counties. 
 
 At some of these meetings I have seen English, 
 Irish, Scotch, Germans and Canadians all sitting to- 
 gether on the camp-ground — Methodists, Presby- 
 terians, Baptists, Church of England, and in a few 
 instances Roman Catholics have been heard singing 
 the same songs of praise together. 
 
 At a love-feast held at the close of one of the meet- 
 ings at Hanover, we had an honest Irish Presbyterian, 
 who gave his testimony. He had been in the country 
 only a few days. He said : 
 
116 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 " I am a stranger here and in a strange land, but the 
 kindness shown to me since I came makes me feel very 
 much at home among you. I am a Presbyterian. 
 Since coming here I have learned more about Meth- 
 odism than I ever knew before. I have listened to the 
 preaching, I have joined in the singing, I have heard 
 many of the prayers, and I have mingled in Christian 
 conversation, and I find that salvation is the burden 
 of it all. Before I leave you I want to say that I am 
 with you in the grand old doctrine of justification by 
 faith and in the blessed hope of a glorious home in 
 heaven." 
 
 That young man is a brother to the Rev. Robert 
 Carson^ of the Guelph Conference. 
 
 A Happy Dutchman. 
 
 Perhaps no one can make " broken English " sound 
 so much like a foreign tongue as a German. And yet 
 perhaps no one who breaks the Queen's English can 
 make himself better understood than he can. 
 
 At the meeting at Hanover there were some mem- 
 bers of the Evangelical Association. They enjoyed 
 the services very much, and some of them did all they 
 could to help on with the work. Their strong, manly 
 utterances did good, although their words were broken, 
 and their cheerful, encouraging expressions of faith, 
 and hope, and love, endeared them to our people gen- 
 erally. But I will endeavour to give one quotation as 
 nearly as I can. 
 
 . " Mine Gristian f reus, ven I leaves old Charmany, I 
 vas vondering if I coot finds zome goot Gristians in 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 117 
 
 dis off avay place. But I am glad to der Master dat I 
 am not in der least disabointed. I hears dis day der 
 same stories of Jesus and His love, as I did in der 
 Faderlandt. 0, I am very much happy in mine soul, 
 dis day. Praise der Lord. I am happy." 
 
 We all believed him. His face and voice and all 
 about him said that he was happy. 
 
 Some Wild Expressions. 
 
 At one of our meetings, a lad of some sixteen or 
 seventeen years of age got converted. He had been a 
 pretty wild boy, though brought up by Christian 
 parents. He had a hard struggle to get free. When 
 he got blest he became very noisy and went among the 
 people on the ground, singing and shouting at the top 
 of his voice. I heard him, but I did not pay attention 
 to what he was saying. I had seen so many noisy con- 
 versions that I thought but little about his noise. 
 Besides I like strong-lunged children, that let people 
 know when they are in the world. 
 
 The next day I met a man on the encampment, who 
 accosted me, saying : 
 
 " Mister, did you hear that rhapsody of that young 
 fellow last night ? " 
 
 1 said : " I heard some one making a big noise, but I 
 was at the time engaged, so that I did not notice what 
 he said." 
 
 " Well," said he, " I never heard anything like some 
 of his wild expressions. Among other thing she said, 
 ' I shall dwell with God, and sit upon a throne with 
 Christ.'" 
 
118 EXPERIENCES OP A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 " That," said I, " is a strong expression, but are you 
 sure that it^is a wild one ? " 
 
 " Well, if that is the fruit of camp-meetings, I think 
 but very little of them," said the man. 
 
 I replied : " The camp-meeting is not responsible 
 either for the words nor for the sentiment. The words 
 you complain of are the words of a youth. But the 
 sentiment is that of a God." 
 
 " How is that ? " said he. 
 
 " Did you never read the words of Jesus, saying, ' To 
 him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my 
 throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with 
 my Father in his throne.' The only contingency in 
 the case, if a man is converted, is his stability and 
 faithfulness. For to sit on the throne with Christ is 
 a fulfilment of the lad's declaration." 
 
 " Well," said he, " I did not know that was in the 
 Bible." 
 
 " I suppose not," said I. " But we see how easily 
 men may make mistakes, when they attempt to pick 
 people up before they are down." 
 
 The Mark of Cain. 
 
 At the Teeswater camp-meeting, which was in 
 Dowse's woods, at Williamson's Corners, in Culross, an 
 interview with a man-slayer gave me some very sad 
 feelings. For a couple of days I had seen a fine look- 
 ing man on the grounds, who seemed to keep entirely 
 by himself. On making enquiry as to who he was, I 
 was told that he lived in an adjoining neighbourhood, 
 and had the reputation of being a murderer. This 
 
CAMP-MEETINGS. 119 
 
 gave me to see how it was that he was so much by 
 himself. People were shy of him, and he knew it and 
 felt it. One day he came to me and said, " Sir, I would 
 like to have some conversation with jou, if you are 
 willing." We walked out into the bush by ourselves, 
 and sat on a fallen tree. Then he said to me, "Do 
 you recollect hearing of a melancholy affair that took 
 place some few years ago at G. ? " " To what do 
 you refer?" said I. He answered with a faltering 
 voice saying, " I mean the killing of poor W. by E." 
 "Yes," I said, "I do remember it. And being well 
 acquainted with some of W.'s friends made me feel a 
 deep interest in the matter. But E. was tried and 
 acquitted on the ground that he only acted in self- 
 defence, if I do not forget the facts." " That is true," 
 he said, " I am K, and at the time I thought, and I 
 still think, that I could only save my life by taking 
 his. But it is a terrible thing to do. I often wish I 
 had not done it. But do you think that there is 
 mercy for me. Can I be forgiven ? " " If you sincerely 
 repent and heartily trust in the Lord Jesus you can be 
 forgiven," was my answer. "Well," said he, "I am 
 trying to do the best I can in a lonely way. My 
 neighbours shun me as they would a poisonous reptile. 
 Even the children will run from me as if I was some 
 ravenous beast. My life is a very unhappy one." 
 Poor man, he did not look like a bad character. But 
 he must carry with him the unhappy reflection that 
 he took a fellow-mortal's life, and sent a soul prema- 
 turely to its last reckoning. And even though it was 
 done in defence of his own life the remembrance of it 
 
120 EXPERIENCES OF A JBACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 must always be like a deadly shadow resting upon the 
 spirit. 
 
 This chapter might be indefinitely lengthened by 
 the relation of camp-meeting incidents. But prudence 
 forbids it. One or two things might be said in regard 
 to the contrast between the old camp-meetings and 
 revivals, and those of the present day. But that sub- 
 ject may possibly be treated of in another chapter 
 specially devoted to change and progress. 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 REVIVAL MEETINGS. 
 
 IN writinj^ on the subject of revivals I shall give 
 more attention to similarity and contrast than 
 to chronological order. Any one at all conversant 
 with evangelistic work, will bear testimony to the 
 statement that every revival of religion has some pecu- 
 liarity about it that gives it a sort of individuality of 
 its own. While in all genuine revivals there is a 
 general aspect of unity, still there is a specific diversity 
 in the case of each that makes it differ from all others 
 of its kind. This may arise from a variety of causes. 
 The person who conducts the services may adopt 
 methods that will give a peculiar aspect to the work ; 
 or the habits and temperaments of the people may, 
 and no doubt they do, affect the work both as regards 
 its magnitude and character. Again, local circum- 
 stances and temporary conditions have a decided influ- 
 ence on this kind of work. And the season of the year, 
 the state of the roads, and the severity or mildness of 
 the weather all have more or less to do with the suc- 
 cess or failure of revival efforts. Especially is this the 
 case at the beginning of such meetings. Illustrations 
 
122 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 will be furnished in this chapter by giving instances 
 that have come under my own observation in connec- 
 tion with services held by myself and others. 
 
 I have been acquainted with special services from 
 early life. When but a young man I attended the first 
 protracted meetings that were ever held in the town- 
 ship of Erin. They were held in a private house that 
 belonged to a man named Nathaniel Rossell, whose 
 home was both a dwellinor-house and meetinor-house 
 for a number of years. The results of these meetings 
 held in that little frame house are felt and seen in that 
 locality till the present day, though almost fifty years 
 have passed away since then. Since that time I have 
 been permitted to attend many of these blessed means 
 of grace in different places. But I shall confine myself 
 to my own experiences since I entered the ministry. 
 
 My first effort in revival work was a desperate 
 struggle. It seems to me now as I look back to that 
 effort, that it was the Waterloo of my life and work as 
 a minister. If that first effort had been a failure, as 
 for three long and dreary weeks it threatened to be, 
 what would have been my course I cannot tell ; very 
 likely I should have become disheartened and have 
 gone no further. And what then ? Between six and 
 seven hundred souls converted since then in meet- 
 ings that I have conducted, would have been left 
 in their sins, so far as I am concerned, and I should 
 have missed the opportunity of leading them to Jesus, 
 and worse than all, many of them might have died in 
 their sins and been lost for ever. 
 
 It was on my first circuit. I had been there from 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 123 
 
 June till January. The people were kind, but the 
 state of the Church was one of lamentable coldness and 
 indifference. The members were respectable, and, in 
 worldly things, enterprising and prosperous ; but they 
 neither realized their duty nor appreciated their privi- 
 leges as Christians. When I spoke to some of them 
 about holding some revival services, they talked very 
 discouragingly about it. In fact they said it would 
 be of no use. And besides, it would bring us into dis- 
 grace among the Church of England people and the 
 Presbyterians. " However," they said, " if you think 
 it advisable, you can try it for a week or two." 
 
 With many misgivings I made an announcement to 
 commence revival meetings in the old log church on 
 the sixth line of Garafraxa. The people turned out 
 extremely well, and all seemed quite willing to let the 
 preacher have his way. But for three weeks not the 
 first indication of revival could be seen in that congre- 
 gation. Not one hearty amen was heard in all that 
 time. There were three or four old brethren that 
 would ofier prayer, but their prayers were so cold that 
 they seemed almost to glisten with frostiness. Who 
 has not fairly shivered under such prayer at some time 
 or other ? 
 
 Well, during all this time the meeting dragged itself 
 along despite a frigid membership and a weak, timid 
 preacher. During these weeks I would preach and 
 exhort and sing in the church ; and at home I would 
 lay awake at night, and think and pray and sometimes 
 weep, until I got into an agony of soul for the conver- 
 sion of the unsaved part of my congregation. 
 
124 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 It was on the Friday night of the third week of the 
 meetings. The house was filled with an orderly audi- 
 ence. As I went up the old pulpit stairs I seemed to 
 catch an inspiration. I felt confident of success. Be- 
 fore reading my text that night, I told the people that 
 one of three things would be done. " We must have a 
 revival, or these meetings will be kept going till Con- 
 ference, or I shall wear myself out and become a use- 
 less thing on your hands. So," said T, " you may as 
 well wake up and get to work in right good earnest. 
 I mean just what I say." 
 
 I think I preached that night as I had never done 
 before, and there was an influence at work among the 
 people that could hardly be resisted. When I com- 
 menced the prayer-meeting and repeated the invita- 
 tion that had so often been given in vain, there was a 
 general rushing toward the penitent bench, there being 
 no altar in the church. The power of God was won- 
 derfully manifested in the conviction of sinners and in 
 quickening and energizing believers. We continued the 
 meetings for three weeks longer, and between twenty 
 and thirty were converted and united with the Church. 
 
 Cotton's Appointment. 
 
 On the tenth line of Garafaxa was the scene of my 
 next revival. We had an appointment in a school- 
 house here. The settlers were nearly all of one nation- 
 ality. They were from the North of Ireland, and 
 adherents of the Anglican Church. They had no reli- 
 gious services, only what were furnished them by the 
 Methodists. They were a wild, thoughtless and daring 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 126 
 
 lot of men. They were called by the inhabitants 
 around them, " tenth line blazers." In fact, their repu- 
 tation for recklessness spread far beyond the limits of 
 their own settlement. But for all this, a more warm- 
 hearted and generous class of men could not be found 
 so long as they avoided the whiskey and did not get 
 out of temper. 
 
 When I told one of our men on the sixth line that I 
 was intending to try the tenth line with revival ser- 
 vices, he said that to do anything with them a man 
 would need to have strong faith and a ready tongue. 
 " But," said- he, " they will not abuse you whether they 
 agree with your methods or not. If you can get Wil- 
 liam Cotton you will succeed with the rest, as he is a 
 sort of king among them." 
 
 When I told the people at the schoolhouse that I 
 was intending to start meetings there, they were com- 
 pletely taken by surprise. I told them that I wanted 
 them to come every night for two weeks, and then if 
 they wished it I would close up. They readily con- 
 sented to this, and we concluded to commence the next 
 night. After I came out of the house, two women who 
 had once been Methodists said to me, " We are glad 
 that you are going to try to do something for this 
 place, for it is a fact that we are all going to the had 
 as fast as whiskey and bad surroundings can send us. 
 We will do what we can to help you." I said to them, 
 " You can give yourselves fully to the Lord and do 
 what you can for others." They both promised that 
 they would, and they faithfully kept their promise. 
 
 On Monday evening the schoolhouse was full, and 
 
126 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 we had the best of order. Tuesday evening was the 
 same, only the interest seemed to be increasing. Wed- 
 nesday evening the house was crowded. After talking 
 to the people and offering prayer, I made arrangements 
 to invite penitents forward. I think I never had a 
 greater task to perform than I had that night, to place 
 a penitent bench and explain to the people what it was 
 for, and what I wanted them to do. But few of the 
 audience had ever seen anything lik^ this before, and 
 it was a great novelty to them. 
 
 As I looked into the faces before me, I could see 
 evidence of wonder and bewilderment, and anxiety and 
 expectancy, but I could see no trace of anger. That 
 night four married women came forward. Two of 
 them, were the women that had promised to do what 
 they could ; the other two were Mrs. Cotton and Mrs. 
 Smith. This gave the meeting a good start, and I was 
 much encouraged. The next night a number more 
 came forward, and among them was William Cotton, 
 the man who had been represented to me as " king of 
 the tenth line blazers." 
 
 From that night the work went on with increasing 
 power. In three weeks some sixty claimed to be con- 
 verted, and united with the Church ; and the most of 
 them gave proof of the genuineness of their profession 
 by a consistent walk and conversation. The neigh- 
 bourhood was entirely changed in its habits and pur- 
 suits. During the progress of the work I had been 
 somewhat worried about a leader to take charge of 
 these new beginners. None of them had ever had any 
 experience in Church work. But before the meeting 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 127 
 
 closed the Lord provided a very efficient leader in the 
 person of John Cowan, a man who just then came to 
 live in that locality. He was connected with some of 
 these people and acquainted with all of them. He had 
 been a Methodist from his boyhood and a class-leader 
 for some length of time. We got him to take charge 
 of the newly formed class. He was an excellent leader, 
 and he proved to be a great blessing to that locality 
 for years after. 
 
 John Conn's House. 
 
 During my second year on the Garafraxa Circuit a 
 man named John Conn attended a camp-meeting at 
 Orangeville and got converted. He lived on the eighth 
 line. As soon as he got done praising the Lord for his 
 salvation, he came to me on the camp-ground and said, 
 " Now, mister, I am going to serve the Lord, and I 
 want you to come and hold a revival meeting in my 
 new house before the partitions are put up." I told 
 him I would gladly do so. We arranged to commence 
 as soon as the hurry of harvest would be over. 
 
 The people in this neighbourhood were mostly of the 
 same race and religion as those on the tenth line. Not 
 more than two or three of them professed to be con- 
 verted or made any attempt to live right. The ser- 
 vices were commenced at the time appointed. The 
 tenth line people came in large numbers to assist in 
 the work. The Lord was with us, so that in three weeks 
 nearly every grown-up person in the settlement claimed 
 to be converted. We formed a class here and appointed 
 John Conn as a provisional leader, with the under- 
 
128 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 standing that John Cowan, who was brother to Conn's 
 wife, should take oversight for a while until there 
 should be a leader developed from among themselves. 
 Some of the best men that I have known amons: our 
 worthy laymen grew out of the little class that used 
 to meet in that little private house. 
 
 Esson's Schoolhouse. 
 
 At Esson's schoolhouse we had an appointment, but 
 we had no society. The congregation was a mixture 
 both nationally and religiously. Scotch, Irish, Eng- 
 lish and Canadians were all represented here ; and the 
 Anglican, Presbyterian and Methodist Churches each 
 had adherents in the audience that met on Sabbath for 
 religious worship in the somewhat commodious school- 
 room. After much consideration and some misgivings, 
 I resolved to try this place with a series of meetings. 
 The trustees readily consented. The teacher at that 
 time was a fine-spirited Englishman, and at once con- 
 sented to assist in the singing and in looking after the 
 fire and light. The people generally seemed to fall in 
 with the idea of having a revival meeting. They were 
 acquainted with many of the converts both at Cotton's 
 and Conn's. 
 
 We commenced the services in the winter, when 
 there was good sleighing, so that people could come 
 from all parts of the circuit. The house would be 
 crowded every night, and the best of order prevailed 
 throughout the entire series. We kept at work for 
 six weeks — every evening but Saturday nights — with- 
 out one conversion of either old or young. Everybody 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 129 
 
 was disappointed, and I was nearly heartbroken. 
 Such a complete failure I had never seen. What was 
 the cause of such a signal defeat ? These questions 
 frequently forced themselves upon my attention, but no 
 answer could be given that seemed to be a satisfactory 
 one. But I found out, on examining myself closely, 
 that I needed just such a lesson. There are people to 
 whom success is more dangerous than opposition, and 
 I expect I am one of them. My former success had 
 nearly spoiled me, for I had got to thinking that I was 
 specially designed for evangelistic work. But this 
 led me to see what a poor, useless thing I was. And 
 another thing that I learned was this, that it is possible 
 to become so fully absorbed for the salvation of others 
 that you lose your own enjoyment. I think that I never 
 came nearer backsliding in heart than at this time. And 
 still another thing I learned, viz., that it is possible to 
 be actuated by motives that we think are entirely pure, 
 when in fact our motives are mixed. My ruling motive 
 was to do the Lord's work in the way that would most 
 bring glory to Him ; but subordinate to this, and almost 
 hidden behind it, I found also a desire to do it in such 
 a way as to bring praise to myself. 
 
 I stayed at home and rested one week, and then I 
 resolved to try again, and at once started again in the 
 old log church, where I had the hard fight the year 
 before. The work here commenced to move on from 
 the first night, and this meeting furnished a complete 
 contrast to the one at Esson's schoolhouse. On the 
 third night of these services I passed through an ex- 
 perience that was new to me, and it seemed to shed 
 9 
 
130 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 some light on the subject of my failure in my last 
 efforts. While the prayer-meetinor was going on, an 
 impression was made on my mind just as distinctly as 
 if an audible voice had addressed me. I was startled 
 by its suddenness and vividness. The impression put 
 into words was simply this, " Would you be willing to 
 labour here for six weeks without results, as you did 
 at the last place you tried, if God should will it to be 
 so ? " After a few moments of deep and prayerful 
 thought, I said, " Yes, Lord, if it be Thy will that I 
 must work on all my life from this night until I die 
 and never see another soul converted, I am ready to 
 do so. Anything that will honour and glorify Thee 
 shall satisfy me." Here I discovered that I had been 
 too anxious about results. The question of success or 
 failure had been more to me than an entire consecra- 
 tion to God as an essential qualification for eminent 
 usefulness. As soon as this decision was made, a flood 
 of glory swept over my soul, and I was unutterably 
 happy. 
 
 From that night a mighty impulse was given to the 
 work. The whole community seemed to be moved. 
 The people came in from all directions. Some of them 
 came ten or a dozen miles. The moon was in its gran- 
 deur, and the sleighing all that could be desired. Night 
 after night the old church was packed with earnest 
 listeners and happy worshippers. People were asking 
 each other where this thing was going to end. Num- 
 bers had been brought into the new life, and many 
 more were earnestly seeking for it. But how often 
 men make mistakes in drawing their conclusions from 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 131 
 
 appearances ! While the people and their preacher 
 were rejoicinor together over the prospects of a sweep- 
 ing revival such as our fathers had told of in their 
 day, there came a change as sudden as it was unex- 
 pected. A strong south wind and rain set in, and in 
 two days the snow was all gone and the roads became 
 impassable or nearly so, and our meeting had to be 
 closed, or rather it closed itself, before it was two 
 weeks old. 
 
 Before dismissing this subject, I will note just two 
 instances in connection with this meeting that I can 
 never forget. One night during the prayer-meeting, 
 I was standing on one of the seats trying to exhort 
 sinners to repent. Presently, I saw a man rise up in 
 the audience, and then another and another, until nine 
 strong men all at once were crowding their way to the 
 altar and weeping over their sins. Some of these men 
 are still working in the Church. Others of them have 
 gone to mingle in the joys of the Church triumphant. 
 
 An Old Sinner Saved. 
 
 The other instance that I wish to mention, is the 
 case of an old man by the name of Trouten. He had 
 been a Christian in his youth in Ireland ; but he had 
 been a backslider for half a century, and he had 
 gone very far in the ways of sin. His daughter, a 
 very fine young lady, had been converted at the meet- 
 ings in Cotton's schoolhouse while she was visiting 
 friends in that neighbourhood the year before. 
 Through her the old man was influenced to come to 
 the meetings. He was one of the nine men spoken of 
 
132 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 above. On the second night after he came forward in 
 the prayer-meeting, we stood up to sing, and while 
 we were singing the verse of one of our good old 
 hymns, that begins with : 
 
 " But drops of grief can ne'er repay, 
 The debt of love we owe," 
 
 the old gray-headed wanderer regained his long-lost 
 faith, and hope, and joy, and love. He made the old 
 house echo, while with his clear, ringing, manly voice 
 he praised the Lord for the mercies that had followed 
 him in all his sinful ways, and that now restored him 
 to the blessed hope of the gospel. This old man lived 
 a useful, happy life for a number of years after this. 
 
 A Whole Family Converted. 
 
 Time and distance are not essential qualities in the 
 narration of isolated facts, and therefore I shall pass 
 them by in this instance. 
 
 I was holdinof a series of meetinofs in the villaoje of 
 Trowbridge, in the township of Elma. The audience 
 room was a little schoolhouse. The place was crowded 
 every night. There was a very strong society of 
 Wesleyan Methodists, and a small society of Episcopal 
 Methodists. The former had a snug little frame church, 
 and the latter worshipped in the schoolhouse. The 
 two societies were on good terms, and ready to help 
 each other in their work. 
 
 Our meetings had been going on about a week, and 
 there had been some good done ; but there seemed to 
 be a little dulness and things were going rather slowly. 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 133 
 
 Perhaps the overcrowded state of the audience had a 
 good deal to do with this. But one night a woman 
 came forward to seek the Lord. She was very much in 
 earnest, and was a woman of any amount of energy, 
 and of more than average intelligence ; she soon found 
 peace, and was made very happy. After giving vent 
 to her gladness of heart in words of praise to the 
 sinner's Friend, the feelings of her rejoicing soul ran 
 out after others. She arose to her feet, and looking 
 around over the audience, she said, as if speaking to 
 herself, yet loud enough to be heard all through the 
 room, " Where is Archy ? " Now, Archy was her 
 husband, who sat away in a corner of the house, and 
 was wondering what had come over his wife. Pre- 
 sently, the object of her search was seen by the newly 
 converted woman. She made her way to him, it 
 seemed to me with the agility of a squirrel, and taking 
 him by the hand, said, " Come, Archy, let us start 
 together to serve the Lord." With the docility of a 
 child, he rose and followed her ; and in less than ten 
 minutes he too was praising the Lord for his salvation. 
 
 Again, the intrepid little woman stood on her feet, 
 and this time the question was, " Where is Ben ? " 
 He was her brother who was boarding with her, and 
 teaching the village school. In a few moments she 
 had " Ben " kneeling at the penitent bench, and Archy 
 and others praying for him, and in a little while he 
 too was made happy. 
 
 Her next utterance was, " Now, I must have 
 William." This was another one of her brothers, who 
 was also boarding at her house, and attending his 
 
134 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 brother's school. William was hunted up, and he too 
 was led forward by this energetic sister, and like the 
 rest was soon rejoicing in a sense of pardon. The 
 whole household went home in a happier frame of 
 mind than they had ever enjoyed before. 
 
 A Bigoted Young Preacher. 
 
 At a place that shall be nameless at present, there 
 was an occurrence that has caused many feelings of 
 sadness to arise in my mind, as memory has carried 
 my thoughts back to the time and place. 
 
 In one of the backwoods villages I had an appoint- 
 ment and a small society. We held our meetings in 
 the schoolhouse. The country was new, the people 
 were mostly in sympathy with Methodism in some 
 one of its old-time divisions. The Wesleyans had a 
 good church and a large society in the village. The 
 congregations were made up of the villagers and their 
 neighbours from the surrounding settlement. 
 
 The superintendent of the circuit at the time was a 
 true Christian gentleman ; but of the junior preacher 
 I can only say that his Christianity seemed to be 
 largely composed of self-importance . and sectarian 
 bigotry. 
 
 Revival meetings had been going on in the church 
 for three or four weeks with fair success. They 
 had been closed or adjourned on the Friday night 
 before my appointment in tne schoolhouse. When I 
 came to the place I found the house already full, and 
 the people still coming. I commenced the services. 
 When I was about to announce the second hymn one 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 135 
 
 of the Wesleyan leaders came up to me and said, " There 
 are more people outside than there are inside and 
 they want to come in, but there is no room for 
 them. We had intended to hold a prayer-meeting in 
 the church, and it is lighted up. You had better go 
 into the church and hold your meeting." As we 
 were going into the door, the class-leader said to me, 
 "I want you to conduct a prayer-meeting after preach- 
 ing." My text was, "The simple pass on and are 
 punished." I tried to illustrate the subject by show- 
 ing how sinners pass on from one period of life to 
 another, from one degree of sin to another, from 
 one means of grace to another, and from one inter- 
 position of Divine Providence to another. I spoke of 
 the calls of mercy when God speaks to men with a 
 voice more soft and tender than a mother's lullaby. 
 But men pass on. Then again, He speaks to them in 
 tones more terrible than the crashing thunder. But 
 still men pass on, until mercy no longer pleads, and 
 forbearance no longer stays the lifted hand of Justice. 
 Then the blow descends and the long delayed punish- 
 ment comes as in a whirlwind of destruction. 
 
 At the close of the address an invitation was given to 
 all who did not wish to pass on in sin any longer, to come 
 to the altar. In a short time the altar was crowded 
 from end to end with weeping, praying penitents. 
 The power of the Highest seemed to rest on the entire 
 assembly and the glory of the Shechina seemed to fill 
 the house. Between thirty and forty came forward 
 that night to seek the Lord. 
 
 Before the close of the meeting the leading officials 
 
136 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 said to me, " Our ministers are away from home. One 
 is at the District Meeting, and the other is visiting at 
 the farthest point of the circuit. Can you come and 
 help us till they come home ? " I told them I would 
 do as they wished, and announced for meeting on the 
 next night. On Monday night the house was full 
 again, and there were a number of conversions. Dur- 
 ing the evening the junior preacher came home, and 
 in passing the church he heard the noise and looked 
 in at the door. But instead of coming in he went off 
 to his boarding place in a pet. After he found out 
 how it came about that I was working in connection 
 with his people, he wrote a very tart and stinging 
 letter to the old class-leader who was the chief 
 offender. 
 
 Next night when I came I found the house full and a 
 stranger in the pulpit. A young man who was can- 
 vassing in the neighbourhood, and who was a local 
 preacher, had been invited, and had consented to 
 preach. The old leader was not there, and the other 
 officials seemed to be confused and afraid to act. 
 Everybody felt that something was wrong. Only a 
 few knew what it was. The young man in the pulpit 
 did the best he could, but a bishop could not have 
 preached successfully to that congregation. People 
 were asking one another, " How is it that the man who 
 was invited to lead the meetings is pushed aside, and 
 an entire stranger put in the place?" The tide of 
 bad feeling rose higher and higher as the discourse 
 went on. One after another left the house. By the 
 time the sermon was through, nearly half of the con- 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 137 
 
 gregation were outside ; some were angry and others 
 grieved at what had taken place. It came out after- 
 wards that the junior preacher had that day been 
 around among the officials, and by threats and intimi- 
 dations had caused them to take the course they did. 
 After some discussion it was decided to go on with the 
 meeting as if nothing had happened. But it was no 
 use. The work was killed as effectually as fire is put 
 out by water. It was chilled to death by the cold 
 wet blanket of bigotry thrown over it by the hand of 
 a young clerical compound of self-importance and 
 sectarian exclusiveness. 
 
 The young man in question had a fine personal ap- 
 pearance, a very high order of intellect, a fair educa- 
 tion, and he was a fluent and eloquent speaker. But 
 his want of Christian courtesy and brotherly kindness 
 disqualified him to a great extent for the work of a 
 successful minister. He remained in the itinerant 
 ranks for a few years, and then, I think, went to the 
 Pacific coast. 
 
 But before he left the country, and two years after 
 the event above described, I met him again, and under 
 entirely different circumstances. 
 
 During my second term on the Garafraxa Circuit we 
 had a camp-meeting. The Wesleyan minister on the 
 adjoining circuit, and whose work overlapped mine, 
 was invited to attend the meetings and help us as 
 he could. He was a fine, genial, warm-hearted man, 
 but circumstances forbade his attending in person, so 
 he did the next best thing — he sent his colleague, who 
 was no other than the peppery young gentleman who 
 
138 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 had shown so much bitterness towards me and my 
 work. When he came on the camp-ground I received 
 him as courteously as I knew how and treated him 
 as kindly as I could. I introduced him to our people 
 and to the ministers present. I also went to the 
 tent-holders and instructed them to give special atten- 
 tion to Mr. McK, and make him feel at home as much 
 as possible while he stayed with us. They did as I 
 told them. He was made welcome to their tents and 
 their tables. 
 
 He accepted an invitation to preach. The people 
 were delighted with the sermon. In the pulpit he was 
 clear, logical, and forcible. But he was not of much 
 use to lead a prayer-meeting. But in this he was 
 by no means singular. 
 
 Things went on smoothly for a day or two. Then 
 he began to make disparaging remarks to the people 
 about the preachers and their work. This got to the 
 ears of the preachers. There were a couple of high- 
 strung men among them, and the feeling of displeasure 
 began to run high, and there was some danger of an 
 explosion among the clerics. My attention was called 
 to the matter by the late William Woodward, who 
 was the presiding elder at the time. He was a man of 
 gentle spirit and calm deportment. I persuaded Mr. 
 Woodward to take the young critic in hand, and advise 
 him to cease his uncalled-for and ill-timed strictures. 
 
 The two went aside, inviting me to go with them. 
 
 They talked the matter over in a friendly way, after 
 which the young man thanked Mr. Woodward for his 
 fatherly admonitions ; he also apologized for his unkind 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 
 
 139 
 
 and unbrotherly sayings. He soon after bid us good- 
 bye and went away, and I never saw him again. 
 
 The unification of our common Methodism has re- 
 moved the cause of a great deal of the friction that so 
 frequently made things unpleasant in its divided state. 
 This is cause of thankfulness at least. 
 
Wl^^^^^^^^^^^^^^k 
 
 CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 REVIVAL MEETINGS.— II. 
 
 THORNBURY AS IT USED TO BE. 
 
 PLACES, like men, sometimes are reputed to be 
 better than they are, and sometimes worse. 
 That being the case, it is not always safe to 
 estimate a person or place in strict accordance with 
 what Dame Rumour may have to say about them. I 
 found this to be emphatically true of the village of 
 Thornbury, when I went to live there in 1867. 
 
 Thornbury was at that time the headquarters of the 
 Collingwood mission of the M. E. Church. When my 
 name was read out by the Stationing Committee, I felt 
 some misgivings about going to it. But I had been 
 Ions: enough in the itinerant work to know that it is 
 not always best for men to choose their own work. So 
 I determined to go and do the best I could for the 
 place. I had been told by a man who was not a Meth- 
 odist, that it was a very hard place. His words were : 
 " The women of Thornbury are well enough, but the 
 devil and the rumsellers have a morto^age on the most 
 of the men." This, I thought, must be an exaggeration, 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 141 
 
 and I found that, bad as the place was, it was not so 
 far gone as that, for before I was there three months 
 I saw a number of both men and women converted 
 and made happy, though it must be admitted that, 
 for a small village, Thornbury was far from being a 
 model of propriety and order. On the contrary, it 
 could produce as much dissipation to the square rod as 
 any little place that I have seen. But this state of 
 things, I think, arose not so much out of an inordi- 
 nate love of wickedness on the part of the people, as 
 it did from a lack of special effort on the part of the 
 Churches to help and encourage individuals and fam- 
 ilies to live right. Everybody seemed to take it for 
 granted that nothing could be done, and so no one 
 tried to do anything for the moral and religious up- 
 lifting of that part of the inhabitants of the place who 
 were outside of the Churches. 
 
 But God resolved to visit Thornbury in mercy, but 
 in doing so He did not commission some learned divine 
 to teach the people what they ought to do, nor did He 
 send some noted evangelist to arouse the careless, 
 sleeping sinners. 
 
 He who takes the weak things to confound the 
 mighty, chose some children in the berry-field to be 
 the instruments in His hands to start a mighty work, 
 in the place. Some little girls, ranging from eight to 
 twelve years of age, went out to pick berries. While 
 thus engaged, one of them spoke of a sermon she had 
 heard on the previous Sabbath, in which something 
 was said about the conversion of children. They talked 
 on for a while, and then they concluded to hold a 
 
142 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 prayer-meeting, and ask the Lord to convert them. A 
 part of them belonged to a Sabbath-school, taught by 
 a good old Wesleyan, named David Youmans. They 
 gathered into a thicket of shrubbery, and commenced 
 to sing and pray. Before long God heard and 
 answered their simple petitions for conversion, and all 
 of them were blessed and made as happy as they 
 could be. 
 
 Some men who were passing by on the road heard 
 the noise and went to see what the children were do- 
 ing. They found them in a perfect ecstasy of joy and 
 quietly left them without disturbing them. But the 
 story of the children's prayer-meeting soon spread 
 through the village. Some treated the matter with 
 levity. Others were seriously impressed by it. 
 
 I had only been there a short time and was a com- 
 parative stranger to most of the people. My first 
 Quarterly Meeting came on, and I made arrangements 
 for an all-day meeting, to be held in a nice grove not 
 far from our church. The presiding elder at the time 
 was a live man from Dublin, W. H. Shaw. That day 
 he did grand work. The congregation was large and 
 orderly. One woman was converted, and many of the 
 old professors, both from town and country, were 
 abundantly blessed. We commenced a series of revival 
 meetings in the church at once. The people came out 
 in crowds, and the work of conversion went on from 
 the first. In carrying on the services the band of little 
 workers that had received their commission in the 
 berry-field was a great help to me. Everybody won- 
 dered at the clearness of their testimony, and the 
 
144 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 fervour and earnestness of their prayers. For a few 
 days these little ones did a good share of praying for 
 penitence at the altar. 
 
 During the first week we recorded twelve conver- 
 sions, and a number more were earnestly seeking the 
 forgiveness of sin. The work went on with increased 
 power from day to day, so that at the end of the 
 fourth week some sixty professed to have been con- 
 verted, and the religious community was stirred for 
 miles around. 
 
 There were two or three things in connection with 
 these meetings that I wish to notice before passing on. 
 One afternoon, at our two o'clock prayer-meeting, there 
 came three squaws from a camp of Indians that were 
 located about a mile from the village. Those women 
 were Methodists from about the Saugeen reservation. 
 
 During the meeting the eldest one engaged in prayer 
 in her own language. We could only understand one 
 word, and that was " Jesus." But a more powerful 
 prayer I never heard before or since. It seemed as if 
 the very rain of heaven were falling from a cloud of 
 mercy on every heart in answer to the earnest plead- 
 ings of this poor, unlearned daughter of the forest. 
 There were not less than fifty persons present, but 
 at the close of that prayer there was not a dry face in 
 the house. 
 
 At the commencement of the third week of our 
 meetings, the altar was somewhat crowded, and we 
 were straitened for room. Some of the leading workers 
 said to me : 
 
 " We shall have to put these children in a corner by 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 145 
 
 themselves, so as to make more room for grown-up 
 people," 
 
 I told them that I was afraid to interfere with the 
 Lord's way of doing His work. But they seemed to 
 insist on it, and I let them have their way. The chil- 
 dren were put in a corner by themselves, and the altar 
 left for older people. 
 
 For two nifjhts this arranorement was adhered to. 
 The meetings were cold, and dull, and dry, and lifeless. 
 Next night I called the little workers back to the altar 
 and all went well again. 
 
 I wish to say here that one of the best helpers in a 
 revival that I have met with among the laymen of 
 Methodism I found in these meetings in Brother David- 
 son, who came to live in Thornbury about the same 
 time that I went there. He could always be relied on 
 for work either in the pulpit or at the altar. He was 
 a Wesleyan local preacher, and was a good man. In 
 fact, the whole Christian coQimunity gave all the help 
 they could in forwarding the work. 
 
 One night during the meetings an old woman came 
 to the altar, and I could not help seeing that she made 
 a sensation when she came. The other women drew 
 away from her, as if they were afraid to let their gar- 
 ments touch hers. She was poorly and plainly dressed 
 and was evidently in very humble circumstances. But 
 I felt that this in itself was not any reason why Chris- 
 tians should shun her. She seemed very much in 
 earnest, and she wept as though her heart would 
 break. 
 
 After meeting I made inquiry as to who she was, I 
 10 
 
146 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 was told that she belonged to a family in the village 
 and that they had a very bad name, and were looked 
 down upon by every one. I told the people who gave 
 me this information that our duty was to imitate the 
 Master in our treatment of sinners. He never selected 
 special cases, but, on the contrary, He saved any one 
 that came to Him. She might be poor, she might be 
 vile, but she was penitent, and that was a passport to 
 the Lord's sympathy and love, and it ought to be to 
 ours. 
 
 Next night she was saved, and she gave a clear and 
 distinct testimony to the fact of salvation from sin. 
 She was very happy. On visiting her and conversing 
 with her, I found that she had been reared in a Chris- 
 tian home, and by Methodist parents, in the eastern 
 part of 'this Province. But like scores of other silly 
 girls she had blighted her life's happiness by an 
 unsuitable marriage. She was married by a Methodist 
 minister to a French-Canadian Catholic. They settled 
 the question of church connection by an agreement to 
 attend no church. They had raised a large family 
 entirely destitute of religious training. When I had 
 learned all this, it was easy to see how it was that 
 parents and children had gone so far astray. 
 
 The old woman was very punctual in attending every 
 means of grace after her conversion. For two months 
 we never missed her from any of the services, either 
 by night or by day. At length one Thursday night 
 she was absent from the prayer-meeting. Next Sab- 
 bath morninor her seat was aorain vacant. This caused 
 some inquiries, but no one could tell what was the 
 cause of her absence, 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 147 
 
 On Tuesday I went to her home and found her very 
 sick with inflammation of the lungs and past hope of 
 recovery. I asked her how she felt. 
 
 " Oh," said she, " I am hourly sinking, but my soul 
 is unspeakably happy." 
 
 Then she reached her hand to me and said, " How 
 can I sufficiently thank the Lord for the protracted 
 meetings. What would I do now if I had not found 
 salvation ? Surely I am a brand plucked from the 
 burning. How wonderful it seems that I am saved 
 after all those dreary years of sin and wickedness." 
 
 Next day she died in peace. How often since then 
 have I thought of poor old Mrs. Willot, so nearly lost 
 but saved at last. 
 
 In less than a year her husband died with a tumour 
 on his neck. When he found that he must die, he sent 
 for me to come and see him. On going I found hira in 
 a very unhappy condition both of body and mind. I 
 asked him what I could do for him. 
 
 He said : " I sent for you to teach me how to die, as 
 you taught my wife. She died in peace and I want 
 to die in peace." 
 
 I told him that the mercy that had saved his wife 
 would save him, if he would repent and believe as she 
 had done. I found him very ignorant, but ready and 
 willing to be taught. He seemed gradually to grasp 
 the truth, and at length could rejoice in the hope of a 
 future life, based on a sense of pardoned sin. He died 
 soon after calmly trusting in the crucitied and risen 
 Saviour. "Almost lost but saved," would be a fitting 
 epitaph for him and for his wife. 
 
148 experieis'ces of a backwoods preacher. 
 
 McColman's Schoolhouse. 
 
 We have lingered about Thornbury Jonger than was 
 intended. We will now leave it and go to the tenth 
 line of the township of Collingwood, where we had an 
 appointment in McColman's schoolhouse. There was a 
 fair congregation, and a small class of church members. 
 
 During my second year on the Collingwood mission 
 I held a series of evangelistic services in that place. 
 I was aware that in the vicinity there were some of 
 the Campbellites or Disciples. But I thought that by 
 judicious management it was possible to avoid coming 
 in collision with them. But in this I was mistaken. 
 Their domain is on the water and along the rivers and 
 streams. And since the earth is about three-fourths 
 covered with water, it becomes very difficult to move 
 in any direction very far without touching their do- 
 main somewhere, as I found out in this place, and of 
 which I will speak further on. 
 
 In this place, as in Thornbury, the work of revival 
 began at first among the children and youths. Some 
 ten or twelve Sabbath-school scholars, between ten and 
 fifteen years of age, came forward to seek the Lord 
 during the first week, and several of them were 
 happily converted. This gave an impetus to the work 
 and encouragement to the workers. And there were 
 some noble helpers there. One Presbyterian brother — 
 a Mr. Goodfellow — whose two young daughters were 
 among the first converts, did everything in his power 
 to help on the good work. 
 
 At the close of the week one brother said to me, " I 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 149 
 
 f 
 
 am glad to see the children coming to Jesus, but I 
 should like to see the old sinners coming, too." 
 
 I said to him : " When you go to clear oflf a piece of 
 land, you cut the undergrowth first and the large tim- 
 ber afterwards. The Lord is dointj so here. He is 
 simply underbrushing now. But He will bring down 
 the tall, strong sinners after a while." 
 
 And so it turned out, for in three weeks between 
 forty and fifty professed to be saved from their sins. 
 But this was not accomplished without some opposi- 
 tion from our friends the Disciples. Among them were 
 two who were more than mere laymen, and less than 
 what they call elders. They were in a sense public 
 teachers. After our meeting began to attract the 
 attention of the general public, one or both of these 
 men would be on hand almost every night in a very 
 captious state of mind, if their actions were to be taken 
 as an index to their thoughts and feelings. One night 
 in my discourse I spoke something about the baptism 
 of the Spirit. 
 
 After I was done speaking and was about to start 
 the prayer-meeting, one of these men got up and said 
 to me, " You have called up the subject of baptism, and 
 now I want you to clear it up, and let us have no 
 dodging of the matter." I looked at him and said, 
 
 " Mr. , I am no good at dodging, as you call it. 
 
 But who gave you authority to dictate to me what I 
 shall say or how I shall say it ? " At this stage of the 
 proceedings Brother William Houston, a grand sample 
 of a fearless Englishman, started at the top of his 
 voice — which was by no means a weak one— and sung. 
 
150 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 fesuB, my all, to heaven is gone — 
 ?he way is so delightful — hallelujah ! 
 
 "J 
 The way 
 
 The audience struck right in with him and made the 
 house ring with the voices of men, women and chil- 
 dren, while they gave expression to their feelings and 
 sang that grand old hymn, and gave such emphasis to 
 the chorus that nothing but water-fowls could resist 
 the influence of the singing. We had a good prayer- 
 meeting after that. 
 
 On another occasion, as soon as I was done preach- 
 ing, the other one of the two men spoken of arose and 
 challenged me to meet him in public debate on the 
 subject of baptism. I told him that I had no time to 
 waste in that way, but if he would wait until these 
 meetings were closed, I would tell him and all con- 
 cerned what I believed, and why I believed it, on the 
 subject of water baptism. He got on his feet again, 
 and lifting his hand with a Bible in it, and with a look 
 of determination, said to me and the audience, " In the 
 name of this book I demand to be heard." I looked 
 him in the face and said to him, " Sir, you came here 
 without invitation, you have got angry without pro- 
 vocation, and now in the name of the laws of the Pro- 
 vince of Ontario, I command you to sit down and be 
 quiet." We went on with our meeting till the close 
 without any more disturbance. 
 
 The next day I met this man in the road. He asked 
 me if I intended to take up his challenge. I told him 
 I did not. He said, "It is because you dare not do it : 
 you are a coward." I replied that " Forbearance is not 
 cowardice any more than rashness is courage. The 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 151 
 
 strongest men are the least quarrelsome and the strong- 
 est nations are the coolest nations. It is not because 
 I am afraid of you that I decline to accept your chal- 
 lenge, but I am not disposed to spend ray time and 
 strength in a useless way. Besides, I am well known 
 in these counties, and if I should engage in a public 
 debate with you it would give a publicity to your 
 views and a notoriety to yourself that you cannot gain 
 if left to make your own way into public notice. I 
 am not going to be an advertising medium for you or 
 any one else if I can help it." 
 
 Two weeks after I preached on water baptism, as 
 practised by the Methodists, to the largest crowd that 
 had ever met me in that neighbourhood, and I gave 
 the longest address that I have ever given ; but I never 
 heard anything more on the subject while I remained 
 on that charge. Some of the people who were brought 
 in at that series of meetings are among the leading 
 Church workers of that neighbourhood at the present 
 time. 
 
 KiNLOUGH Appointment, 
 
 on the Kincardine Circuit, was the scene of some four 
 weeks' effort by myself and my colleague, Bro. Thomas 
 Love. The people in this locality were a mixture both 
 nationally and religiously — English, Irish, Scotch, 
 Canadian and Anglican, Presbyterian, Methodist, Bap- 
 tist and Roman Catholics, all had their representatives 
 and adherents here. A large number of young people 
 attended our services in this place, which made the 
 prospects of success all the brighter. 
 
15^ EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 One peculiarity of this appointment was the lack of 
 denominational attachment on the part of the members 
 of the Church. Another thincr that gave a discourag- 
 ing aspect to the work was the small amount of real 
 and hearty brotherly love and confidence in each other 
 that manifested itself in the community. But still the 
 people were fully up to the average in moral deport- 
 ment, and some of them were conspicuous in loyalty 
 to Queen and country. Orangeism had a strong hold 
 in the place, and some of the best Orangemen that I 
 have met — and I have seen and known a great many 
 — were found in connection with the lodge at Kin- 
 lough. 
 
 One of the most prominent men in the place was Mr. 
 Jacob Nichols, deputy reeve of Kinloss township, and 
 Justice of the Peace. He had at one time, I think, 
 been a Methodist, but he was not at this time in con- 
 nection with the Church. He was a good singer, and 
 was well instructed in vocalization. He took a laud- 
 able interest in the young people, and at the time I 
 speak of he had an excellent choir under his tuition. 
 
 When we commenced our meetings I asked Mr. 
 Nichols to attend and lead the singing, which he 
 readily consented to do. And during the whole time 
 he and his band of singers did a great deal toward 
 making the effort a successful one. He was one of the 
 best hands at selecting timely and suitable pieces to 
 sing that I have had the pleasure of working with in 
 revival meetings. In this kind of work very much 
 depends on what is sung and how it is sung ; but I 
 could rely on Mr. Nichols both as to matter and man- 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 153 
 
 ner. "A glorious success" was the general verdict 
 respecting our meetings as they were brought to a 
 close at the end of the fourth week. Nearly all the 
 young folks of the Protestant families in the com- 
 munity professed to be benefited, and many of them 
 claimed to be converted. Besides, a number of old 
 sinners were led to turn from the error of their ways. 
 
 One young woman who was very active in these 
 meetings, and who was greatly blessed in them, died 
 not long after in the full assurance of faith, and in the 
 hope of the gospel. Miss Mary Rowsam will be re- 
 membered when the butterflies of fashion and the 
 votaries of pleasure shall be forgotten and their names 
 have perished. It w.iuld hardly be a kind thing for 
 me to close this section without saying something about 
 the homes that I found around Kinlou^h durinor the 
 three years of my pastorate on the circuit. 
 
 Perhaps, no class of men are so much dependent on 
 homes away from their own residences as the Meth- 
 odist itinerants. Their appointments are often at a 
 distance from where they reside, so that it becomes a 
 matter of necessity for them to have "homes away 
 from home." This is one of the conditions of itinerant 
 life, and happy is the preacher who can adapt himself 
 to circumstances and make himself agreeable and at 
 home anywhere. These are the men who gain the 
 affections of the people among whom they labour. 
 
 Our homes about Kinlough were quite numerous, as 
 they had need to be since one of us had to spend one 
 night every week the year round at some of them, 
 besides all the extras, such as revivals and other week- 
 
154 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 night meetings. The place was fifteen miles from my 
 home. First and foremost, there is Mr. Nathan Pennel 
 and his wife, called sometimes Aunt Mary. " The 
 meeting-house " stands on a corner of their farm. 
 Their house has been the home of ministers ever 
 since the beginning of the settlement, and they have 
 got rich while feeding the preacher and his horse. By 
 day or by night, their door is ever open to the minister 
 of the gospel. 
 
 Aunt Mary, like the Shunammite of old, has a '' pro- 
 phet's room," which she keeps for the preacher, and 
 any one but a preacher who may be allowed to occupy 
 that room must be one of Aunt Mary's special favour- 
 ites. She told me that she could not read a word 
 before she was converted, which was in middle age ; 
 but she asked the Lord to help her to learn to read 
 His word. She is a passable reader now, and fully up 
 to the average woman of her age in general intelli- 
 gence, and her knowledge of the Bible is remarkable. 
 She is a great politician — a Conservative — and greatly 
 in favour of Orangeism. May she and Nathan enjoy 
 peace and plenty until their work is done, then in the 
 bright beyond have a home in the Eternal City of 
 God. 
 
 Brother James Young, who lives some distance from 
 the church, with his wife was always ready and 
 willing to entertain the preachers and make them 
 comfortable. Mr. Young is one of "Aunt Mary's" 
 particular friends, because he is an Irishman and an 
 Orangeman. He was one of the circuit stewards. 
 
 Mr. John Rowsam and his family were always 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 155 
 
 ready to entertain us, and many a comfortable night 
 I spent with them. Mr. Rowsam has many noble 
 qualities, and I only wish that I could pronounce him 
 faultless, but like the rest of men he gives evidence of 
 human weakness sometimes. His wife and daughter 
 are among the most amiable people to be found. 
 
 The Tweedie family were always willing to give the 
 preachers a hearty welcome. They were a family of 
 singers, and made up a part of Mr. Jacob Nichols' choir. 
 The mother and some of the children were Methodists. 
 
 One more name I must not forget to mention, John 
 Nichols. He was represented to me as sceptical, but 
 I never found him so, except on the question of Dar- 
 winism. He was a little inclined towards that, but he 
 was one of the most intelligent men of that community. 
 I found great enjoyment in talking with him on 
 almost any subject. I think that he must be something 
 more than a " monkey gone to seed." 
 
 My Last Revival Meeting. 
 
 A combination of circumstances tended to make the 
 closing year of my active work in the ministry an 
 eventful one in more ways than one. Just before the 
 Conference came on, our people in the town of Kin- 
 cardine had entered into a contract to build an eight 
 thousand dollar church, which to them was a very 
 heavy undertaking. I had been two years on the cir- 
 cuit, and was well acquainted with the wants and 
 wishes of the people. 
 
 At Conference it was resolved to cut off two appoint- 
 ments and attach them to another circuit. Against 
 
156 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 this I protested with all my might ; but it was done, 
 and I was left alone on the circuit, with four Sabbath 
 appointments to provide for, and to superintend the 
 buildintr of a new church. This was hard enough, 
 but it was not all. The people at two appointments 
 that had been cut off locked up their churches and 
 positively refused to submit to the new arrangement, 
 so that if these were to be saved to the denomination 
 some compromise must be made. The appointments 
 in question were Kinloss and Kinlough. 
 
 The arrangement made was, that I should take 
 charge of both ; that I should supply Kinloss with 
 religious services, and Kinlough would be supplied 
 temporarily with preaching from the Teeswater Circuit 
 preachers, and all the financial returns except the 
 salaries should be made in connection with Kincar- 
 dine. This frave me a laro^e amount of extra work. 
 
 Besides all this, there was a great deal of trouble 
 and worry in connection with the building, brought 
 on by the failure of the contractor to fulfil his engage- 
 ment. To save other parties from heavy losses, we 
 had to assume responsibilities not contemplated when 
 the contract was let. When all these things were put 
 together, I found myself with burdens resting on my 
 shoulders that were more than any man ought to 
 carry ; but I resolved to do my best, so that if I failed 
 to succeed it should not be through any lack of effort 
 on my part. The church was completed about Christ- 
 mas. Dr. Carman and Dr. Stone attended, and took 
 charge of the financial part of the proceedings, as well 
 as the other services. They succeeded in getting over 
 
REVIVAL MflETINGS. 157 
 
 ten thousand dollars promised to wipe out the debt on 
 the church. 
 
 According to the contract, no money was due till 
 one month after the building was completed, and then 
 it was all due, and if it was not then paid, of course 
 it would be on interest until paid. Eighty-two hun- 
 dred dollars would have been amply sufficient to 
 pay off every claim on the day that the church was 
 dedicated ; but that amount in hard cash is one thing, 
 and ten thousand five hundred dollars in subscriptions 
 running from one to five years is entirely another 
 thing, as the board of trustees found out to their 
 sorrow. In these wild subscription schemes two im- 
 portant factors are generally lost sight of : one of these 
 is, that interest on unpaid principal continually in- 
 creases the liabilities, and the other is that shrinkage 
 in the subscription caused by death, bankruptcies and 
 removals from the Province, are all the time causing a 
 decrease in the assets. In the case of which I am now 
 speaking, to make everything safe not less than 
 fifteen thousand dollars in subscriptions would have 
 been needed to provide for debt and contingencies ; 
 but I forgot : it is revivals, and not church debts, that 
 I am writing about at present. 
 
 About a month after the church was dedicated, 
 there came to me one day a young man about six feet 
 in height, with fine physical proportions, with rather 
 pleasing manners, a fair complexion, dark hair, heavy 
 whiskers, a heavy bass voice, plenty of cheek, and a 
 ready tongue. I am thus particular in describing him 
 because of the important bearing his coming at that 
 
158 EXPERIENCES OF A, BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 time has had on my own life and on my relation to 
 the work of the ministry. He claimed to be a travel- 
 ling evangelist. He showed documents which testified 
 that he was a local preacher in the great American M. 
 E. Church. He also had testimonials from a Meth- 
 odist minister in Canada, with whom I was acquainted, 
 and for whom I had great respect as a successful re- 
 vivalist. I had always kept clear of wandering stars 
 in the shape of men who were too liberal to belong to 
 any Church, and yet sought the patronage of the 
 Churches ; but this man was a Church member, which 
 made his case somewhat different, and in talking with 
 him I found that he was not willing to work on the 
 lines of Church work, but he would be a second 
 Moody. 
 
 I told him that I could not think of going into extra 
 work at that time ; that for nine months I had been 
 under a continuous strain, and was about worn out 
 and needed all the rest that I could get, and that I 
 had spent three months in revival work at that ap- 
 pointment since T came to the circuit, as well as many 
 weeks elsewhere; but it was all to no use. He was not 
 the kind to be put off without positive rudeness. He 
 went to some of the officials, and by some means got 
 them to consent to let him into the Church, with the 
 understanding that I need not take any part in the 
 work further than to give directions as to the time and 
 manner of holding the services. The meetings were 
 commenced and our evangelist went to work. 
 
 Durinor the first week nothino^ much was done. 
 During the second week I had to go to Elmwood, on 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 159 
 
 the Hanover Circuit, to attend a church dedication 
 and tea-meeting. I was away nearly a week. When 
 I came home. I found that things were going very 
 badly, the young man was worse than a failure ; the' 
 people were contending, some for him and others 
 against him. The first man I met after coming home 
 was an old medical doctor, who often attended our 
 meetings. He said to me, " If you wish to empty 
 your new church and scatter the congregation, it can 
 be effectually done by allowing that brawler to stay 
 in it for a few weeks, if he conducts himself as he 
 has done while you were away." 
 
 When I heard the statements of a number of members 
 and others, I resolved to take hold of the affair with a 
 firm hand. The first thing that I did was to assume 
 entire control of the services. Then I took the young 
 man by himself and gave him some fatherly counsel. 
 I told him that what I was about to say, some honest 
 man ought to have said to him before he started out 
 on such a mission. I told him that I did not doubt his 
 sincerity or piety. But I said, " I think you have 
 mistaken your calling. Whatever the Lord may 
 have for you to do, I am satisfied that your work is 
 not that of an evangelist. You have energy enough, 
 but it is the kind of energy that breaks what it ought 
 to soften. You have force, but it is the force that scat- 
 ters where it should gather. The trouble with you is, 
 that like a good many others in the Church, you have 
 got the Moody craze, so that a desire to imitate that 
 singular man has made you unwilling to do ordinary 
 Christian work in an ordinary Christian way. Hence 
 
160 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PKEACHER. 
 
 the Church in its local activities and agencies has no 
 field extensive enough for your expanding conceptions 
 of duty. Take my advice and go home, and if you 
 really v^rant to do something for the Lord, He will find 
 you plenty of work that is more in harmony with 
 your capabilities than the holding of revival meetings 
 seems to be." He did not take this very well. But I 
 told him that as I was responsible to the Conference 
 and to the public opinion of the town for what I 
 allowed to be done in the Church, I could not permit 
 him to lead any more meetings there. 
 
 Matters had now got into such a state that a power- 
 ful revival became an absolute necessity, as it was the 
 only thing that would save the society from serious 
 embarrassments and keep the congregation together. 
 It was resolved to rally our shattered forces at once, 
 and make an advance movement against the combined 
 ranks of our spiritual opposers. We went to work 
 with a determination, God helping us to conquer at 
 any cost. 
 
 All personal considerations on the part of both 
 preacher and people were thrown aside, and every one 
 of us felt that the future of our cause as a denomina- 
 tion in the town would be affected by the success or 
 failure of the present effort. 
 
 We worked on for three weeks before we regained 
 what had been lost by the operations of the young 
 man who came to us uninvited and went from us un- 
 regretted. But at length the goodness of our God was 
 manifested in an outpouring of the Holy Spirit an<l in 
 the commencement of a mighty work that seemed to 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 161 
 
 shake the town as it had not been shaken for many 
 years before. So people told me. We kept the meet- 
 ings going for six weeks longer, making nine weeks in 
 all since I took the matter into my own hands. Be- 
 tween sixty and seventy professed to be converted. 
 The membership of the Church was very much 
 strengthened and encouraged, and the congregation was 
 largely increased. 
 
 But the effort was too much for me. More than once 
 while the meetings were going on, I found myself un- 
 able to walk from the church to the parsonage with- 
 out help, though the distance was not more than six 
 rods. There was a reason for this. When I came to 
 the circuit three years before I was only partially 
 recovered from a very severe affliction which had 
 nearly cost my life. I ought to have had a year's rest 
 then, but financial considerations forbade me to take it. 
 Then, too, the circuit was a large one, involving a good 
 deal of travel and exposure to bad roads and rough 
 weather. Besides this I had spent about five months 
 in special meetings during the first two years on the 
 circuit, and the third year T had to do more than any 
 man ought to do. And now, as I look back to that 
 year's work, I am not surprised to find myself a broken- 
 down man. When I think of the difficulty I had in 
 filling the regular work, and of the many sleepless nights 
 I spent in trying to devise ways and means to meet and 
 overcome the obstacles that one after another arose in 
 the way of success to the enterprise in which we were 
 engaged, and then on the back of all these the 
 desperate nine weeks' struggle at the close of the year, 
 11 
 
162 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 I only wonder that God gave me strength to bear up 
 under it as long as I did. If I had my days to 
 live over again after the experience that I have had, I 
 am sure that no Conference or committee would ever 
 induce me to carry so heavy a burden as I did during the 
 last year of my active work in the itinerancy. But it 
 will all come right "in the sweet by-and-bye." 
 
 Before closing this chapter,'! will relate an incident 
 of an unusual nature that occurred during the seventh 
 or eighth week of the meetings. One night, just 
 as I was reading the text, three men came into the 
 church. Two of them took seats just inside the door, the 
 other one walked up the aisle with a hasty and pompous 
 stride, as though he fancied that the whole church and 
 congregation belonged to him. He took a seat in the 
 forward pew, and right in front of the pulpit, where 
 he could look me squarely in the face, and see every 
 movement of mouth and chin. He looked at me, and 
 then he took out his book and pencil and began to 
 write* He was a stranger in the place ; I had never 
 seen him before. He was a large man, with dark com- 
 plexion, coarse black hair sprinkled with gray, an eye 
 as black as a crow, and one of those peculiar mouths 
 that could enable its owner to pose either as a cynic 
 or a saint. 
 
 At first I was a little thrown off my balance. I did 
 not know who he was, or what he was after. He 
 might be a wit, looking for subjects to laugh at, or he 
 might be an infidel seeking what he might devour. 
 Or he might be a religious controversialist hunting for 
 an opponent. When I saw what he was doing I said 
 
REVIVAL MEETINGS. 163 
 
 to the audience, I see there is a gentleman here wish- 
 ing to take down my sermon. To give him a fair 
 chance, I will announce and read the text again. He 
 took down every word I said. While this was going 
 on, I called up all the knowledge that I had of physiog- 
 nomy and phrenology, and mentally took the measure 
 of the man. The conclusion I came to was this: "I am 
 not afraid of you, and I shall proceed just as I would 
 if you were not here, only I will be more careful of 
 what I say and how I say it." The man would look 
 at me for a. moment, and then take down what I said 
 with the most rapid motion of the hands that could be 
 imagined. As soon as I closed the book he got up in 
 a hurry, put up his book and left the church in the 
 company of the men he came with. One of the men 
 was a leading hotel-keeper in the town. 
 
 The next morning, as I was passing the hotel, the 
 proprietor was standing at the door, and spoke to me, 
 saying, " I was sorry for you last night, and I want to 
 explain to you how we came to be there. That re- 
 porter is a man who is entirely deaf. He was staying 
 over night here. It was proposed to test his ability 
 to report an address by watching the speaker's face. 
 I knew that you were holding meetings in the church, 
 and I offered to take him there to report the sermon. 
 I thought to have been there before you started, so as 
 to tell you about it, but I was too late. The man is a 
 Frenchman, but speaks English, and he is certainly a 
 wonderful shorthand reporter." 
 
 I asked the man if the Frenchman had got a correct 
 report of the discourse. He said it was perfectly cor- 
 
164 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 rect so far as he could remember. I told him that 
 there was no harm done, and that it was just as well 
 that I did not know the object of their coming, as it 
 would have been harder for me to speak without the 
 temptation to try and do some fine talking, and thus 
 to spoil the whole. I have never seen nor heard of 
 the deaf reporter since. 
 
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 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FLOODS AND BRIDGES. 
 
 SOME of the experiences of travel are about as 
 rough as they are romantic. Sometimes, on 
 a journey, we meet with incidents that are ludicrous 
 and yet dangerous ; and it is not a rare thing that the 
 novelty of a difficulty goes far to conceal the danger 
 that may attend it. In this article I shall give an 
 account of some of my experiences with floods and 
 bridges while itinerating in the new parts of our own 
 country. 
 
 The first incident that I will relate is one over which 
 I have often had a quiet laugh to myself when I have 
 thought of it. If my memory serves me right, the Con- 
 ference was held that year in the village of Palermo. 
 I had left my horse with a friend in Garafraxa, and 
 had gone from Guelph by train. The Conference had 
 closed its session. I was on my way home, or rather 
 to where my home had been the last year, for I had to 
 move to a new place. At Rockwood I fell in with 
 Rev. John H. Watts, who was also on his way to where 
 his last year's home had been. But he had just been 
 appointed to the Garafraxa Circuit, and he intended to 
 
166 EXPERIENCES OP A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 stop over and spend the Sabbath on his new field of 
 labour. This circuit was an old and favourite field of 
 mine, so I decided to stay there over Sabbath too. 
 Bro. Watts and I concluded to foot it from Rockwood 
 to the Garafraxa parsonage, as by so doing we would 
 shorten the distance by a number of miles and save 
 quite an item of expense. 
 
 Accordingly we started, following one of the conces- 
 sion lines through the township of Eramosa, until we 
 came to the road that runs from Orangeville, on the 
 south side of the Grand River, to Fergus. Here we 
 were directed to follow a certain line which, we were 
 told, would lead to the road running from Fergus to 
 Douglas. We walked on for two or three miles, when 
 we came to the Grand River. It being in the spring 
 of the year, the river was high, the current strong, and 
 the water cold. Here was a dilemma. There had 
 once been a bridge, but it had been swept away by the 
 spring floods. To go back and around by the bridge 
 at Douglas would give us an extra walk of some six or 
 seven miles. The question for us to decide was, 
 " What shall we do ?" 
 
 After due consideration we determined to wade the 
 stream. It did not look to be very deep, but was from 
 eight to twelve rods wide and running with a rapid 
 current. I went in first, but before starting I cut a 
 long, stiff* cane, and running my umbrella through the 
 loops of my carpet-bag (this before the day of satchels) 
 I swung it over my shoulder, and taking my cane in 
 hand I started for the other shore. I found the water 
 deeper and the sweep of current stronger than I had 
 
FLOODS AND BRIDGES. 167 
 
 expected. Had I not taken the precaution to get the 
 cane, I have no doubt but that I should have been 
 carried down the stream and perhaps drowned. How- 
 ever, after a hard struggle, I reached the other side 
 wet to the arm-pits, and pretty well exhausted. I 
 drew off my boots and drained the water out of them, 
 and adopted measures to wring out my clothes. 
 
 When I got over I called to Bro. Watts and asked 
 him what he was going to do. I knew that when he 
 undertook anything he was not the sort of man to 
 back out, but I thought I would try him. His answer 
 was characteristic of the man. He said, in a deter- 
 mined manner, " I can go anywhere that you can." 
 " All right, then," I said ; " come along." He bene- 
 fited by my experience so far that he got his garments 
 well above the high-water mark by placing most of 
 them on his head and shoulders before starting in. 
 He got over with less difficulty than I met with. Two 
 facts contributed to this result. He was a younger and 
 stronger man than I was ; and in the water the less 
 incumbrance in the way of clothing one has on, the 
 easier will be his progress and the less his danger. 
 
 Where we crossed was in the bush, but the mos- 
 quitoes were not yet ready to commence their summer's 
 work ; so we lay down and rested awhile. We started 
 on again, and in the course of an hour we arrived at 
 the house of Bro. D. Kyle, on the sixth line of 
 Garafraxa. Here we were made welcome by Mrs. 
 Kyle and family. The relation of our watery experi- 
 ences furnished a good deal of amusement for the 
 young people. However, I never felt that the getting 
 
168 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 wet or the being laughed at did us any particular 
 harm ; but we came to the conclusion that the shortest 
 way is not always the easiest or safest. 
 
 A Series of Spring-tide Difficulties. 
 
 The Huron District of the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church was a very large one. It included three whole 
 counties and extended into five others. To go over 
 this territory four times in the year, as the presiding 
 elder was expected to do, involved facing some diffi- 
 culties arising from bad roads and rough weather. 
 For many years this travel had to be accomplished 
 with a horse or on foot. 
 
 When I was appointed to the position there were not 
 ten miles of railway within the boundaries of the dis- 
 trict. In the spring of the year it was often very hard 
 to meet the appointments on account of the floods 
 caused by the melting of the large quantities of snow 
 that fall during the winter months. One spring I 
 was on my round of Quarterly Meetings and I found 
 myself in the town of Kincardine. On my way to my 
 home in Meaford I was to stop over Sabbath and hold 
 a Quarterly Meeting at Eugenia Falls. I heard that 
 the country was flooded in all directions, and that 
 travel was almost entirely suspended ; but I had a 
 good horse and there was a good gravel road nearly all 
 the distance. 
 
 I started on Wednesday morning. I intended to 
 make my way to the home of Brother William Cross, 
 in Culross, that day. All went on very nicely for the 
 first part of my journey. But when I called at the 
 
FLOODS AND BRIDGES. 169 
 
 Black Horse Corners for dinner I went to Mr. 
 Harrison's house ; he was the keeper of the post-office, 
 and he told me that four miles ahead, at Riversdale, 
 the road was flooded so that the mails from Walkerton 
 had been brought over in canoes for the last week. 
 This was rather unpleasant news to hear, especially as 
 there was no other road to take. However, there was 
 no help for it. I had often told young men and boys 
 never to say "I can't," until they had tried. After 
 myself and horse had been cared for, I started for the 
 scene of trial. When I came to the place I found that 
 what I had heard was no exaggeration. 
 
 The Teeswater, or Mud River, runs for several miles 
 through a low, level, swampy piece of country. At 
 Riversdale, where the Durham Road crosses the river, 
 the flat is nearly a mile wide. A deep ditch was dug 
 out on each side of the roadway and the earth thrown 
 in the centre ; this raised the road some feet above 
 ordinary high-water mark. At this point the stream 
 runs near the high land on one side, and consequently 
 the flat is all on the other side. 
 
 When I came to Riversdale and looked down the 
 road, what I saw was by no means reassuring. I saw 
 before me a sheet of water, fully five-eighths of a mile 
 wide, that entirely covered the road. The flood had 
 brought down a number of old logs and stumps that 
 had been lying about on the flats, and they had caught 
 on the middle of the road and stopped there. The 
 road had more the appearance of a pine-stump fence 
 run through a pond than anything else that I can 
 think of. 
 
170 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 When I got into the village I spoke to some men 
 who were standing at the door of the hotel, and they 
 told me that no team had passed over the bridge for 
 more than a week. One of the men said that he had 
 been over in a canoe, and he thought it possible to go 
 over with a single rig, if a man had a steady horse 
 and nerve enough to face it. I told him that with me 
 it was not a question of nerve, but a matter of neces- 
 sity, as I must go over, if that were possible. 
 
 I drove on to the bridge across the main stream and 
 got out to take a survey of things. The water was 
 clear, and I could see the road for some distance ahead, 
 and I concluded that there was room for the buggy to 
 go between the row of stumps and the ditch, which 
 was some ten or twelve feet deep. I took ofi the 
 check-rein and unbuckled the side-straps, so as to 
 give every advantage possible. I took my trunk from 
 under the seat and placed it on top of it, and took off 
 my coat and put it on the trunk, then I got up on top 
 of all and started. The men were standing on the 
 bridge ; they said they would wait there until I either 
 got over or needed help. My horse at first was some- 
 what frightened, but a few words spoken to him in a 
 firm yet kind voice seemed to give him confidence. 
 Sometimes he was half way up his sides in water, and 
 sometimes not above his knees, but he kept perfectly 
 calm and seemed to take in the situation fully. We 
 got safely over, and when I waved my hat back to 
 the men on the bridge as a token that all was well, 
 cheer after cheer came floating over the five-eighths of 
 a mile of water that ran between us. 
 
FLOODS AND BRIDGES. 171 
 
 Just as the sun was going down I reached the house 
 of Brother Cross, and put up for the night after a 
 rather anxious day. Here I was kindly treated and 
 hospitably entertained, and after a good night's rest I 
 was ready for the road again. This Brother Cross is 
 a whole-souled Englishman who, with his Scotch- 
 Canadian wife, always have a place in their home for 
 the weary itinerant. 
 
 A Shaky Bridge. 
 
 The morning after my adventure at Riversdale, I 
 started on my journey, intending to go that day as far 
 as the village of Hanover. I got to Walkerton about 
 noon, and stopped for dinner at a hotel. Here I was 
 informed that the bridge over the Saugeen River at 
 Hanover had been impassable for more than a week. 
 The mail stage had to take another road, and it went 
 a number of miles out of its way to get around this 
 obstacle. After dinner I went forward, feeling some- 
 what doubtful of success. When I got within a couple 
 of miles of the place I met a man with a double rig 
 loaded with furniture. I asked him about the bridge. 
 He said that he had come over it, but that it was in a 
 very dangerous condition. I asked him about the 
 flats. He said, " There is no danger there if you keep 
 in the mid(Jle of the road ; the danger is at the bridge 
 over the main stream." I drove on to the theatre of 
 strife between human invention and some of the forces 
 of nature. When I came to the place I found that the 
 flats, which were about one-fourth of a mile wide, 
 were entirely covered except the tops of the many 
 
172 EXPERIENCES OF A BACK#OODS PREACHER. 
 
 stumps that still disputed the right of soil with the 
 cultivators of the land. The scene presented was 
 somewhat picturesque. The water moving hither and 
 thither, as if trying to dodge the stumps — said stumps 
 all the while standing on the spot where they grew, as 
 unmoved as though they were to stand and last for- 
 ever. Little currents and eddies were making music 
 for themselves in ripples among the brush and other 
 things that came in their way, and seemed to fancy 
 that they were infantile rivers and baby whirlpools. 
 Bright sunbeams lightly touched the smiling face of the 
 water as one would pat the cheek of a lovely child. 
 
 I awoke from my reverie and started to cross the 
 flats and try the bridge. . I had no difficulty in keep- 
 ing on the road. The water was up to the horse's 
 knees the greater part of the way. When I came to 
 the bridge I found that it was all afloat, and it was 
 kept from going down the river only by the precaution 
 of some of the inhabitants who, with ropes and chains, 
 had fastened it to trees and stumps, otherwise the 
 municipality would have been out of pocket to the 
 amount of twelve or fifteen hundred dollars by the 
 loss of their bridge, besides the inconvenience to the 
 travelling public. 
 
 When I drove on the bridge I found that it trembled 
 and swayed to such an extent that I was fearful that 
 it would break loose and go down stream despite the 
 chains and ropes with which it was fastened. I 
 walked over ahead of my horse, and I think that I 
 stepped as lightly as a man weighing a hundred and 
 eighty can possibly do. We got over in safety, but 
 
FLOODS AND BRIDGES. 173 
 
 when I stopped the horse he was all in a tremble. 
 That bridge had taxed his nerves to a great extent. 
 I think if the poor brute could have spoken at that 
 time, he would have said something like this : " It is 
 much safer to go through deep water if you have solid 
 ground below you than it is to go over a shaky bridge 
 with a deep, swift river raging and foaming under it." 
 I soon after reached the Hanover parsonage, whose 
 occupants, Bro. and Sister Lynch, kindly invited me 
 to stop with them over night. I thankfully accepted 
 their kindly offer, and put up for the night. When I 
 related the experiences of the last two days, Brother 
 Lynch, who could enjoy a good laugh as well as most 
 men, made himself quite merry over the picture that 
 I presented. But the hearty welcome, coming from a 
 warm Irish heart, which he gave me, more than atoned 
 for any soreness that I might feel under the lashing of 
 his Hibernian wit. I shall have to refer again to this 
 brother and his excellent wife in these experiences. I 
 got a good night's rest, and in the morning started for 
 Eugenia. 
 
 A Big Basin Full of Water. 
 
 Starting from Hanover in the morning I went on to 
 the town of Durham, and put up at Dr. Halstead s. I 
 found the doctor and young people all well, but Mrs. 
 Halstead was very sick. I always found a cheerful 
 welcome at Dr. Halstead's either by night or by day. 
 Here I fed my horse, got my dinner, had prayer with 
 the sick woman, and started again for Eugenia. 
 
 As I was driving out of town I met the mail stage 
 
174 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 coming in from the east. I asked the driver about the 
 road. He said that I would find great difficulty in 
 getting through. He quaintly stated the case by say- 
 ing, " There is a big basin full of water where the road 
 for thirty rods, is covered all of ten feet deep." He 
 said that in going around through a farm he made 
 his horses swim for a couple of rods, but he got 
 through all right. I thanked him for the information 
 and started for another fight with floods, cheering myself 
 by the way with the thought that where another 
 could go with two horses I could surely go with one. 
 I went on through Priceville and Flesherton. About 
 a mile further on I came to the " big basin." Here 
 the water was within three feet of the tops of the tele- 
 graph poles. The stage driver could not have found 
 a more appropriate name. It was a large, round hol- 
 low, almost entirely surrounded by hills. It had an 
 inlet, but it had no outlet. I had often passed along the 
 road, but I had not noticed this peculiarity. The road 
 had been made by cutting down the hills and filling 
 up the hollow until an embankment was formed some 
 eight or ten feet high, but now this was from six to 
 eight feet under water. I found the place where the 
 stage had come out of the fields and turned in, and in 
 a little time I came to the " inlet " of the basin. This 
 was a spring current made by the melted snow and 
 rains. It was about thirty feet wide, running swiftly, 
 and the water was very muddy, so that its depth could 
 not be seen. The banks were some ten or twelve feet 
 high and very steep. As at Riversdale, I prepared for 
 the worst and drove in; my horse by this time seemed 
 
176 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 reckless as to where he went. He was able to touch 
 bottom all the way, but water ran over his back a part 
 of the time. We got over in safety, and got out on 
 the road again all right. 
 
 After another four miles of road pretty badly de- 
 faced by mud, just as the sun was leaving the last of 
 his beams lingering in the tops of the trees that 
 crowned the hills around the little village of Eugenia, 
 I drove up to the preacher's home and found Bro. 
 Thomas Reid anxiously waiting for the arrival of the 
 often-talked about and much-scolded presiding elder. 
 The genial and kindly welcome of Brother and Sister 
 Reid would drive gloomy thoughts and feelings from 
 the most melancholy dyspeptic that ever brought a 
 saddened face into a happy home. I felt a relief at 
 the thought that for two days I would be at rest, so 
 far as travel was concerned. 
 
 On Saturday I learned that the road to Meaford was 
 impassable for a mile in consequence of an overflow of 
 Beaver River at Kimberley. We also learned that all 
 the bridges between Flesherton and Singhampton, on 
 the Durham road, had been swept off, so that it would 
 be impossible for me to go home by way of Colling- 
 wood. I told Bro. Reid, when he informed me, that I 
 would dismiss the subject from my mind, and attend 
 to my duties in connection with his Quarterly Meeting, 
 and see what was best to do when Monday came. 
 
 On the Sabbath people came in from all directions, 
 and we had a good meeting in the little church. Old 
 Mrs. Purdy, or Aunt Anna as she was frequently called, 
 lived here with her son and daughter. She was an old 
 
FLOODS AND BRIDGES. 177 
 
 Methodist of over fifty years' standing. She has since 
 gone to her friends across the tide. R. McLean Purdy, 
 postmaster at Eugenia, did much for his mother's church. 
 
 Floating Corduroy. 
 
 On Monday morning I started for home, having 
 been absent for more than three weeks. When I got 
 to Kimberley, and as I was passing through it, a gentle- 
 man called to me and said, " You cannot possibly get 
 through the swamp, as the corduroy bridge is all afloat." 
 I said to him, " Sir, I thank you for your kind inten- 
 tions ; but my way is, when I start to a place, I go as 
 far as I can find a track or make one. I will go on and 
 have a look at the road. T do not like to give up now." 
 " Well," said my friend, " you will have to come back, 
 and we will have dinner ready when you come." I 
 went on to the river. The main stream at this place is 
 small, as the river spreads over the low, flat, swampy 
 land, necessitating a causeway one mile and a quarter 
 in length. This had been made of logs put side by 
 side on stringers or flat on the ground. For about half 
 the distance the causeway has been covered with dirt 
 and gravel. 
 
 I found the uncovered part all floating so that a 
 horse could not be got over it at all. I found that by 
 stepping very quickly I could go over without much 
 danger, and I concluded that I could draw the buggy 
 over by hand, if I could only get the horse over. 
 
 While I was thinking what to do, two boys came 
 after me, and one of them said that his father sfent 
 them to tell me to come back and he would see the 
 12 
 
178 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 horse was got over. When I went the man proposed 
 to put a boy on the horse, and send him a mile back 
 up the river to where a farmer had made a bridge 
 into his premises. He could cross there and go through 
 ten or twelve farms to the side road on the other side 
 of the swamp. This would involve a good deal of 
 trouble, and require the letting down and shutting up 
 of a number of fences ; but I could see no other way 
 to do unless I left the horse behind and went on foot 
 home. 
 
 The boy started after dinner, and I went to the 
 swamp to take the buggy over. I could see the boy 
 after he got over in the clearings, as the land on that 
 side was very high, just on the face of the mountain. I 
 could see the little fellow steadily moving across the 
 fields. Sometimes he would be questioned a little, but 
 no one interfered with him. I went over the floating 
 logs stepping from one to another, drawing the buggy 
 after me. By the time the boy got around with the 
 horse, I had got over to the covered part of the cause- 
 way. I hitched up and drove on four miles and 
 stopped at Bro. R. Gilray's, at Epping. It had taken me 
 all the day to make less than ten miles. Bro. Gilray 
 and family were always noted for their unostenta- 
 tious hospitality. They are Lowland Scotch. They 
 have a large number of children. One son is a Pres- 
 byterian minister in Toronto, and another is reeve of 
 his native township. They are an energetic, moral and 
 prosperous family. 
 
 The next morning I started for home, which is 
 twelve miles distant ; I got home at noon. After leav- 
 
FLOODS AND BRIDGES. 179 
 
 ing Kincardine, I was four days and a-half on the 
 road. This time was spent in making a trip that has 
 often been done in one day and a-half. My next 
 Quarterly Meeting was at Meaford, so my horse and 
 myself had a rest of a week or more. That was the 
 most watery journey I ever had. 
 
 An Involuntary Dive. 
 
 When we were on the Tees water mission, I used to 
 have some exciting times on the river fishing for 
 speckled trout. These splendid fish were plentiful. 
 Wheat and meat being scarce, people caught the trout 
 not so much for sport, or as a luxury, as they did for 
 family necessity. The most noted places for trout- 
 fishing were at Parr's mill and at Carroll's mill-pond ; 
 Parr's was three miles from Teeswater, and Carroll's 
 seven, on the Teeswater River. 
 
 One day I started to go to Carroll's, and I took a 
 boy with me. We walked as far as Parr's mill, and 
 there we got a flat- bottom skiff that George Parr had 
 made for himself. We went down the river in this. 
 When we got as far as Mr. John Gilroy's, he invited 
 the boy to stop and pick a basket of green peas to take 
 home with us. I went on alone to the pond and suc- 
 ceeded in catching a good string of very fine fish. 
 
 Whefn I came back to Mr. Gilroy's the boy had a 
 basketful, and Mrs. G. had the tea ready. We took 
 tea, and then paddled up the stream until we got to 
 where Parr kept his boat. This was in the mouth of 
 a little creek that ran into another creek of a biffsfer 
 size, which itself enters into the Teeswater. There 
 
The Old Sawmill. 
 
FLOODS AND BRIDGES. 181 
 
 is an eddy at the place, and the whirling water had 
 scooped out a hole fourteen or fifteen feet deep. In 
 trying to run into the mouth of the creek which was 
 very narrow and deep, I missed it. I rose to my feet 
 and placed the oar against the land to push back into 
 the stream, so that I might try to run into the minia- 
 ture harbour with better success. I made an effort, 
 and I suppose I put on more force than was needed. 
 The boat shot like an arrow into the middle of the 
 eddy, I lost my balance and found that I must either 
 go overboard or upset the boat and spill its contents 
 into the water. It is wonderful how quickly the mind 
 can take in the whole situation at a critical moment. 
 The water was deep, my boy could not swim, the fish 
 and peas would be scattered in the creek, and carried 
 by the current into the river, and I would get as wet 
 as possible. All this I saw at a glance ; I chose to get 
 wet alone, and with a spring I went head first over 
 the side into the water, going down until my head 
 struck the bottom. The boy was sitting with his back 
 to me and did not know that I was out of the boat 
 until he saw me come to the surface some distance 
 off, as the boat had moved on after I left it. The work 
 of getting into the harbour was soon accomplished 
 now, myself acting as a tug. 
 
 I seems to me that almost everything has a laugh- 
 able side to it, if one is disposed to see it. When I took 
 in the aspect of things as I came up, I could not help 
 but laugh. The look of wonderment on the face of the 
 boy ; myself spouting and blowing like a miniature 
 whale ; the little boat rocking and swaying as if to 
 
182 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 show how easily it could toss a man into the aqueous 
 fluid. After securing the boat we went to the house 
 of George Parr. Mrs. Parr gave me some of his clothes 
 to put on, but on trying them I found they were 
 too small. So there was nothing for it but' to go on 
 home in my wet clothes. We got home all right, and 
 after the usual wifely remark, " I told you to be care- 
 ful," from the companion of my joys and sorrows, the 
 events of the day became a matter of family history, 
 and I never realized any harm from my involuntary 
 ducking. 
 
CHAPTEE IX, 
 
 STORMS AND SNOWDRIFTS. 
 
 WELL, what is a snowdrift ? The doctor may 
 say it is the grave of a dead snowstorm. 
 The poet will tell you that it is the downy bed 
 in which the storm-king puts to rest his sleeping 
 children. The thin-blooded rheumatic will say it is 
 that which gives him the heaviest chills and the 
 sharpest pains. The wash-woman will declare the 
 snowdrift gives her nice soft water long after the 
 sunny days of spring have melted the snow off the 
 buildings and the fields. If you ask the mischief- 
 loving boy, that stands peering through the fence, and 
 making faces at that other boy that pretends to be 
 hoeing the corn, he will turn and look at you and then 
 give his suspenders a hitch and say, " I like snowdrifts, 
 I do. It is that that gives me the last snowball of 
 the season, and it allows me to take all that remains 
 of itself to wash the faces of Molly and Jennie, as they 
 go tripping to the woods to gather the April flowers. 
 Yes, I like snowdrifts." The snowdrift, like almost 
 everything in this world, has its friends and its foes. Th<^ 
 
184 EXPERIENCES OP A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 aspect of a snowdrift is affected by the standpoint from 
 which it is viewed. To contemplate it from the inside of 
 a comfortable room, with the thermometer ranging 
 among the sixties, gives rather pleasant ideas of it. But 
 to one wading up to his middle in it, with the ther- 
 mometer down to ten below zero, there will not be 
 much enjoyment. In the one case there is a feeling of 
 security mingled with a sense of the beautiful. In the 
 other there is a sense of increasing weariness along 
 with the consciousness of possible danger. Few things 
 have a prettier look than a grand drift of pure white 
 snow on a bright sunny day. The glistening bright- 
 ness that dazzles out in all directions might lead an 
 inexperienced beholder to imagine that it was a thing 
 of more than summer warmth. But to the experienced 
 eye it has a different look. To such the impression 
 made is, that however striking and pretty the thing 
 may be, as an object of sight, it is, after all, like the 
 oration of Bob Ingersoll at h js brother's funeral — very 
 brilliant, but very cold. 
 
 I know something of snowdrifts, both by theory and 
 by practical experience. Theoretically, it is simply 
 congealed water that has been carried by the wind and 
 left in a convenient place till spring comes. Then 
 it is ready to do its part in getting up a flood to take 
 away somebody's bridge or break up someone's mill 
 dam. Practically, it is like the cold looks and freez- 
 ing tones of some people in the world — a good thing to 
 keep away from, unless one had a high fever and 
 would be the better of a little cooling. 
 
 Some of my experiences with snowdrifts were of a 
 
STORMS AND SNOWDRIFTS. 185 
 
 character calculated to wake up a man's energy if he 
 had any of that quality that is so necessary to winter 
 life in many parts of Canada. Others were sometimes 
 a little risky. But I never was much injured, though 
 I was often incommoded by coming in contact with 
 them. It was during my four years' travel on the 
 district that I found most difficulties with them. I 
 had often to meet appointments twenty or thirty miles 
 distant from each other, and bad roads and stormy 
 weather were not valid excuses for failing to meet 
 them. I never missed an appointment on account of 
 roads or weather. But sometimes I had hard work to 
 get to them. 
 
 A Day of Needless Fears. 
 
 I found myself one time in the town of Kincardine. 
 On Monday, after the Quarterly Meeting, it began to 
 snow and drift, and for three days and nights the 
 storm raged with relentless fury. My next work was 
 at Invermay. This was forty miles distant from 
 where I was. The snow piled up and filled the road- 
 ways from fence to fence. The Port Elgin stage did 
 not come on Wednesday nor Thursday, so that there 
 was no mail from the north for two days. 
 
 On Friday morning I started out from James Bal- 
 lantine's, telling him that if I could not go through I 
 would come back. It was still blowing a gale, but the 
 snow had ceased to fall. When I got out of the town 
 and reached the Saugeen road that runs north from 
 Kincardine to Port Elgin, I soon found that the storm 
 had overdone its work. The snow being a little 
 
186 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 damp, it was so packed by the wind that for a good 
 deal of the way a horse could walk on the top of the 
 drift, and not sink deeper than to the fetlocks, and the 
 cutter did not sink the thickness of the runners. 
 
 But I also found that when the horse did go down it 
 was no child's play to get him up again. In his efforts 
 to get up he was almost sure to get one of the shafts 
 over his back. Then I must unhitch and draw the 
 cutter away so that he could get up. This I did a 
 number of times that day. But all day present diffi- 
 culties did not trouble me so much as the dread of one 
 that I imagined was before me. Three miles from Port 
 Elgin the road consists of a deep cut through one of 
 those gravel-hills so common in some parts of the coun- 
 try. If that cut should be filled with show it would 
 present an impassable barrier in the way of further 
 progress. My great anxiety was to reach that place be- 
 fore dark. To do that I drove all day without stop- 
 ping, except to give my horse a pail of water at noon. 
 About dusk I came to the scene of my expected 
 trouble. To my surprise I saw that all my fears had 
 been utterly groundless. There was not a drift to be 
 seen. The same wind that left such heavy piles of 
 snow in other places, had carried it through the cut. 
 I was reminded of the advice given by some one, which 
 is, " Never cross a river till you come to it." I made 
 up my mind that in future I would not wallow through 
 a snowdrift till I reached it. About seven in the even- 
 ing I got to Port Elgin and went to old Mr. Bricker s 
 for the night. 
 
 ^ 
 
storms and snowdrifts. 187 
 
 Over Covered Fences. 
 
 Next morning after my day of groundless anxiety, 
 I started in good time for Invermay. I had to go a 
 long way around, as the shortest road was said to 
 be entirely blocked up. I started out a little behind 
 the stage. I had gone but a short distance when the 
 track went into the fields and continued for nearly 
 two miles over fences, and through door-yards, and 
 barn-yards, until I began to wonder if all the fences 
 had been burned up, as they were nearly all entirely 
 hidden from sight. The road to Invermay was a 
 crooked one. As I went on I found that the track 
 was better broken, until I left the main road. Then 
 there was no track at all since the storm, and I had 
 eight miles yet to go. However, I reached Invermay 
 and drove up to the house of J. W. Dunn just as the 
 members of the Official Board had organized for busi- 
 ness under the impression that the presiding elder 
 was somewhere stuck in the snowbanks. 
 
 A Four-Mile Drift. 
 
 On the tableland between the valleys of the Bighead 
 and Beaver Rivers there is a splendid piece of farming 
 country ; but any one who has travelled over this ter- 
 ritory, along the fourth line of the township of Eu- 
 phrasia, in the winter time, will agree with me that it 
 is a wonderful place for snowdrifts. 
 
 The distance from " Grier s Rock " to the margin of 
 "Queen's Valley " is about four miles. On both sides 
 of the road there are clearings all the way. I have 
 
188 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 often seen this roadway full from side to side, so that 
 the fences were covered in and in many places entirely 
 out of sight. Teams going in opposite directions can 
 pass each other only at the gates of the farmhouses. 
 When two teams are meeting, the one that comes to a 
 gate first must stop and wait for the other to come up. 
 I have had many a tussle with the drifts as I went 
 from Meaford to my work south of there. On one 
 occasion I was going up the hill at Griersville. The 
 road is cut down into the rock thirty feet or more, and 
 only wide enough for two teams to pass. There had 
 been a heavy snowstorm, and the road was filled up 
 on one side ten or twelve feet deep, so the top of the 
 snow looked like one side of a steep roof. 
 
 As I was going up my horse got off the beaten track 
 and into the unpacked snow on the lower side. He 
 rolled over on his back and turned the cutter upside 
 down. When he stopped rolling he was lying in the 
 acute angle where the inclined plane at the top of the 
 snowdrift met the perpendicular wall of craggy rocks. 
 I only escaped being in the same position with the 
 cutter on top of me by throwing myself out on the 
 upper side as it was going over. When I got on my 
 feet and saw the condition of things, I concluded the 
 commercial value of my horse at that moment was an 
 unknown quantity. If he commenced to struggle he 
 would be almost sure to knock his head to pieces 
 against the sharp corners of the rocks. I saw that the 
 only chance was to keep him still as he was until help 
 should come along from some direction. I got to his 
 head and by caressing and talking to him I managed 
 
STORMS AND SNOWDRIFTS. 189 
 
 to keep him pretty still. It was not long before I saw 
 teams coming. A lot of men and some women were in 
 the sleighs. When they came to the foot of the hill 
 the men left their teams in the care of the women, and 
 came to help me. Shovels were got and the snow dug 
 away, so that in a little while all was right again. 
 After all was over an old farmer by the name of Aber- 
 crombie said to me, " Sir, when I came up and saw the 
 fix your horse was in I would not have given fifty 
 cents for his life. He is the coolest horse that I ever 
 saw in trouble, and you are the coolest man that I ever 
 saw have an animal in danger." I said to him, " You 
 must remember that coolness is catching. The man 
 that keeps himself cool can generally control his horse." 
 No harm was done only in the loss of time. 
 
 Missing the Way. 
 
 I was once going from Singhampton to Horning 's 
 Mills in the middle of winter. I had my daughter 
 Anna with me. The roads were badly drifted. We 
 had not gone far from Singhampton when we came to 
 a place where the snow was piled up from six to eight 
 feet on the roadbed. On one side was a piece of bush. 
 The horse soon got down in the snow. I took the girl 
 and carried her off the drift and set her down by the 
 root of a tree, while I got the horse and cutter down 
 from the pathless ridge of snow in which they were 
 partially covered over. I led the horse over old logs 
 and fallen trees for a distance of twenty or thirty rods 
 till we came to a clearing ; then we went across two 
 farms, throwing down the fences in our way. At last 
 
190 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 we came into a barnyard, where we found a man feed- 
 ing stock. He told us that we had missed our way 
 and had been on a road that had not been used for 
 some time. He put us on a better road, where a track 
 had been broken through the fields, out to another line 
 where there was more travel. 
 
 After we had gone a few miles we came in sight of 
 a man and team with a load of saw-logs. The road 
 was very sidelong where he was. All at once the load 
 capsized, and the one horse fell and the other rolled 
 clear over it, so that the near horse was on the off side 
 and both were lying on their backs with their legs fly- 
 ing in the air like drum-sticks. When we came to the 
 place I let the girl hold my horse and went to help the 
 man. The horses were very restless, and their owner 
 was somewhat frightened. Two men came from the 
 opposite direction, and with their help we soon got the 
 horses on their feet. On a close examination it was 
 found that not a cut or scratch could be seen about 
 them. The man stood and looked at the horses and 
 then at the sleigh for a few moments ; then he began 
 to swear like a drunken sailor. After a little I said to 
 him, "My friend, that is a queer way of returning 
 thanks for the safety of your property." He an- 
 swered, " Well, I know it is not just the thing, but 
 sometimes when a fellow don't know whether to laugh 
 or cry it seems easier to swear than to do either." We 
 soon got to the parsonage at Horning's Mills, and put 
 up for the night with Mr. Will, who was then stationed 
 there. 
 
storms and snowdrifts. 191 
 
 Bad Harness and Saw-logs. 
 
 The next day was very cold and clear. In going 
 through the township of Amaranth we overtook a man 
 with a load of saw-logs. He had a good team and a 
 heavy load, but his harness was old and rotten. The 
 road was drifted full from fence to fence, and the 
 beaten track was a succession of ridges and hollows. 
 In drawing the load out of one of the " pitch-holes " 
 the horses broke their harness. When we came up to 
 the place I saw that there was no chance of getting 
 past until we got to a cross-road fifty or sixty rods 
 ahead. 
 
 I never did like to pass anyone on the road, and not 
 try to help him, if he was in trouble. But in this 
 case I could not have done so if I would. Again I gave 
 my daughter the lines and went to help the man. His 
 trouble now became mine as well as his. While he 
 toggled up the harness, I got some rails from the 
 fences and fixed them as pries to help lift the load out 
 of the hollow. After several attempts we succeeded. 
 But we had gone but a few rods when another diffi- 
 culty met us. The road became so sideling that there 
 was great danger of the load turning upside down, as 
 was done the day before. To prevent this we took a 
 fence rail and made a temporary lever of it by fasten- 
 ing one end of it to the lower side of the sleigh, while 
 the other end reached out some ten feet into the road 
 on the upper side, the rail being placed crosswise of 
 the road. On the end of the lever I perched myself 
 like a squirrel on a limb. The driver stood on the 
 
STORMS AND SNOWDRIFTS. 193 
 
 upper side ot* the load and managed the team. We 
 found by one riding on a sleigh-rail and the other on a 
 fence-rail, we could keep the load right-side up. We 
 got to the cross-road, and I drove on and left the man 
 with the bad harness to himself. 
 
 Soon after we came to Mr. James Johnston's in Gara- 
 fraxa. When we went into the house, Mrs. Johnston 
 assisted my daughter in taking off her wraps. She 
 found that both of her ears were frozen as hard as a 
 piece of sole-leather. She had neglected to attend to 
 herself while looking after the horse. When I asked 
 her if she did not know that her ears were freezing, 
 she said: "I felt them getting very cold, but I did 
 not say anything, for I thought there was trouble 
 enough just then without me making matters worse by 
 complaining." She was one of the uncomplaining 
 kind. But now she is where frozen ears and chilled 
 bodies are unknown, safe in the home beyond the 
 tide. 
 
 Snowdrifts Versus Wedding Bells. 
 
 Twelve miles south of the town of Meaford is the 
 home of the Gilray family. One of the daughters of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gilray was to be married on a certain 
 day to a young man living in Meaford. I was engaged 
 to perform the ceremony, assisted by a brother of the 
 bride, Rev. A. Gilray, who lived in Toronto. Two 
 days before the day of the wedding was one continued 
 snowstorm. The roads were badly drifted before, but 
 the addition of two days' steady snowing and drifting 
 made them almost impassable. Knowing all about the 
 13 
 
194 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 " four-mile drift " on the fourth line of Euphrasia, I 
 did not attempt to go by that road. But, instead, I 
 went by Thornbury, and up the valley of the Beaver 
 River. This was nearly twice as far, but it was not so 
 much drifted. By starting early I reached the place in 
 good time. 
 
 When I arrived neither the groom nor the Rev. 
 Mr. Gilray had reached the place. The hour fixed 
 upon for the ceremony came. A number of guests 
 assembled, but nothing was seen or heard of the ex- 
 pected parties. 
 
 Meanwhile the would-be son-in-law and a few 
 select friends were floundering in the drifts of the 
 " beautiful " that impeded their movements. They 
 soon became aware of the fact that time was flying, 
 while they were going at a snail's pace. Old Time re- 
 lentlessly refused to wait, even for a wedding party. 
 And the thought that the swift-winged hours, as they 
 sped on in their unchecked career, seemed to mock the 
 slowness of the anxious plodders through the snow, 
 was almost enough to drive an ardent lover and an 
 expectant bridegroom out of his senses. But Mr. D. 
 Youmans was not the sort of a man to be thrown 
 into despair by a little delay, but no doubt he would 
 have been pleased to send a short message to Agnes, 
 saying, " I am coming," if he could. 
 
 At last, after long hours of delay, the party arrived 
 at the old homestead, where a lovely, blushing bride- 
 elect awaited one of them, and the best productions of 
 the farm and the grandest achievements of the culin- 
 ary art were ready for the whole of them. 
 
STORMS AND SNOWDRIFTS. 195 
 
 But the unpleasant moments of suspense were still 
 to be prolonged. The reverend brother had not yet 
 made his appearance, and every one felt that to pro- 
 ceed without him would be about as unpleasant as it 
 would be for a farmer to bind up a sheaf with a 
 handful of nettles. After waiting^ another hour a sort 
 of council was held and the conclusion come to was to 
 the effect that either Mr. Gilray had been detained in 
 the city, or else the train in which he travelled was 
 blockaded in the drift somewhere. After due deliber- 
 ation, it was decidfed to go on with the ceremony. We 
 did so, and just as we came to the conclusion of it, Mr. 
 Gilray came in, just in time to join in the congratula- 
 tions. It was an awkward moment. We all reorretted 
 the affair. It would have been difficult for any of us 
 to tell, at that moment, whether congratulations for the 
 happy couple, or commiseration for the disappointed 
 brother, were uppermost in our mind. But all con- 
 cerned accepted the situation with as good a grace as 
 possible. No one was censured^ for no one was to 
 blame. Years afterward I met Mr. Gilray in the 
 village of Streetsville, where I went to hear him lec- 
 ture. We had some talk about old times, and among 
 other things mention was made of his coming too late 
 to the wedding. 
 
 A Day to be Remembered. 
 
 One morning I started from Mount Forest to Mea- 
 ford. The mercury was about twenty degrees below 
 zero. I had no idea that it was so cold until I was on 
 the road. When I got to the town of Durham, I 
 
196 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 turned east towards Priceville and Flesherton. About 
 four miles from Durham, I came up to a lot of chil- 
 dren on their way home from school. 
 
 Among them were two little midgets that were cry- 
 ing piteously as I came to them. A half-grown girl 
 and a big boy were trying to help them along. I 
 stopped and enquired what ailed the little ones. I was 
 told that they were freezing. I also learned that their 
 homes were one and a-half miles ahead. I said, " It 
 seems to me that their mothers acted very thought- 
 lessly to send such small children so far on such a 
 day." The answer that I received was, that in the 
 morning they got a ride to the school, and their 
 mothers did not think it was so cold. 
 
 I filled my cutter box full of the smallest of the 
 children. The two little girls being my special care, I 
 covered them all up with the robes and drove on. 
 Soon the crying ceased. In a little while everything 
 was changed. Instead of sighs and whimpers there 
 was laughing and singing. Before parting with my 
 little friends, I had the most cheery and jolly load of 
 juvenile humanity that it had ever been my lot to 
 carry. 
 
 When we came to the place where I bad been 
 directed to let the children off, they scattered in 
 different directions, and scampered to their homes. I 
 went on feeling more pleasure than I should if I had 
 conferred a favor on the greatest man in the country. 
 The day was so intensely cold that when I got to 
 Priceville, I was so nearly frozen that I was forced to 
 stop at the hotel and warm. That was a thing that I 
 
STORMS AND SNOWDRIFTS. 197 
 
 had never done before, nor have I done it since. I could 
 stand it as far as a horse ought to go without feed 
 any day in the year, but that day was too much for 
 me. 
 
 Teamsters Badly Beaten. 
 
 From the Black Horse Corners in Kinloss, I once 
 drove to Paisley and In verm ay, through one of the 
 worst snowstorms that I have ever seen. The snow 
 was deep before, but it had now been storming furi- 
 ously for twenty-four hours, with no signs of an abate- 
 ment. I started about eight in the mornincr. The 
 storm came from the north-east, so that I had to face 
 it. Nobody was on the road. I only met a man and a 
 dog on the road that day. At that time there was a 
 great deal of teaming of salt and lumber on the old 
 Durham road. In going twelve miles that day, I 
 passed eight loads of salt and nine loads of lumber 
 that had been left sticking in the drift, while the 
 teamsters had found shelter for themselves and their 
 horses in the houses and stables of farmers along the 
 road until the storm should cease. 
 
 When I reached the Elora and Saugeen road, I 
 thought it somewhat strange that on such a leading 
 thoroughfare I could see no symptoms of a beaten 
 track ; but so it was. However, I turned north and 
 after a hard tussle with the immeasurable heaps of 
 snow that covered the road in some places to the depth 
 of nine or ten feet, I reached the corner at the " Dutch 
 Tavern." H ere I had intended to get my dinner and 
 feed my horse; but I went in and looked around a 
 
198 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 little. I came to the conclusion that if the kitchen and 
 dining-room were any relation to the bar-room I would 
 not be able to eat much. So I got some oats and fed 
 my horse, and went without my dinner. I found here 
 three men and a couple of women and two span of 
 horses blockaded by the storm. They were going to 
 Ainleyville, now called Brussels, and the road that I 
 had just passed over was the way they wanted to go. 
 On my telling which way I came, the landlord told me 
 that the road had been abandoned two weeks before 
 on account of drifts, and the teams, including the stage, 
 had gone another way ; but the blockaded travellers 
 took courage and started on their way. They said if 
 one man and one horse could come through, surely 
 three men and four horses ought to go through. I told 
 them they could do it if they made up their minds to 
 go through. 
 
 Before they started, one of them proposed to give 
 three cheers for the old man who had made a track for 
 them. I told him to keep his cheers, for he would need 
 all of them before he reached the next corners, a mile 
 and a-quarter ahead. I do not know how they got 
 along, as I started one way and they the other. 
 
 I reached Paisley at seven p.m., and stopped at a 
 hotel, got a good supper, went to bed, and after a com- 
 fortable night, got breakfast and then wallowed 
 through the drifts to Invermay, whiph was eighteen 
 miles distant. I got there in time for the Quarterly 
 Meeting. 
 
storms and snowdrifts. 199 
 
 The Will Makes a Way. 
 
 From Listowel to Mount Forest there was no great 
 amount of travel at the time that I was presiding 
 elder of the Huron District. In the winter it was 
 often very difficult to go from one place to the other. 
 On one occasion I started from Listowel after a heavy 
 storm of snow and drift. When I p^ot to where 
 Palmerston now is, I turned north towards Harriston 
 in the township of Minto. 
 
 The track here was entirely hidden by the recent 
 fall of snow. It looked as if there was no beaten road ; 
 but my horse was accustomed to snowdrifts, and by 
 letting him take his own way he would keep on the 
 track pretty well. When I had gone about half a mile 
 from the turn I met two men with a horse and a 
 broken cutter. They were both walking. One was 
 leading the horse and the other going ahead and mak- 
 ing a track ; but instead of being on the road they 
 were dodging in and out of the fence corners. I at 
 once made up my mind that they were city gents who 
 knew but little about driving horses in deep snow. 
 
 When I came up one of them spoke to me and said, 
 " I say, old man, where are you trying to go ? " 
 
 " Well, sir," I answered, " I am intending to go to 
 Mount Forest by way of Harriston." 
 
 He replied, "You may just as well turn back, for 
 you cannot go through." 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " I asked. 
 
 " We have just come from there and know all about 
 it," was his answer. 
 
!200 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 " Well, sir," I said, " I am an old man, as you can 
 see ; I have gone through a great many snowdrifts in 
 my time, and I have never yet turned back on account 
 of supposed difficulties before me." 
 
 " There is nothing like a determined will," said the 
 stranger. " Go ahead and perhaps you will get along 
 all right." 
 
 " Sir," said I, " somewhere I have read that a good 
 motto is found in this, * Go as far as you can, either 
 find a track or make one,' and I know of no place 
 where this applies with greater force than in going 
 through snowbanks." 
 
 We parted, and I went on my way and they on theirs. 
 
 A Message that Never Was Sent. 
 
 When I was a boy I got into the habit of saying " I 
 can t " when I was told to do anything, no matter how 
 easy it might be to do it. My mother often tried to 
 break me off the habit, but she failed in doing so. 
 
 One day I was going with my father to the barn. 
 Beside the path lay a stick of firewood about a foot 
 thick and thirty feet long. My father had in his 
 hand a switch that he picked up as he was coming 
 along. When we came to the log he told me to take 
 hold of the end of it and lift it. As usual, I said, " I 
 can't," but before the words were fairly spoken he 
 gave me three or four cuts across the shoulders with 
 the whip that made me wince. "Now," said he, "just 
 take hold and try to lift it, or you will get more of 
 this," shaking the switch at me. I took hold of it, and 
 to my utter astonishment lifted the end a foot or more 
 
STORMS AND SNOWDRIFTS. 201 
 
 from the ground. The secret of this was found in the 
 fact that a stone was under the log near the middle, 
 so that the ends nearly balanced. Whether this was 
 by design or otherwise I never knew, but it furnished 
 my father an opportunity to give me a lesson that has 
 been of use to me in more ways than one. 
 
 One winter I found myself at Orange ville Quarterly 
 Meeting, after an absence from home of over four 
 weeks. Saturday and Sunday were very stormy. On 
 Monday morning the storm was still raging, with no 
 appearance of cessation. I had intended to start for 
 home that morning. I was staying at Mr. Abiathar 
 Wilcox's, about half a mile from the village. The day 
 was so rough and the roads so badly blocked up that 
 I concluded to take the advice of this kind family and 
 not attempt to go until the storm was over and the 
 roads opened. 
 
 I wrote a copy of a telegram to send home in these 
 words : " Stormbound at Orangeville ; home when 
 storm ceases ; quite well." With this in my pocket I 
 started to the telegraph office. When going through 
 the gate at the road I recalled the counsel of my father 
 after I lifted the end of the log, which was, " Never 
 say you can't until you try." I turned back and went 
 to the stable and harnessed my horse, and in less than 
 ten minutes was on the road. After a three days' 
 battle with snowdrifts I got home to Meaford in safety 
 with the message that never was sent still in my pocket. 
 
202 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 A Frost-bitten Official. 
 
 From the " Black Horse " Corners in Kinloss to Kin- 
 cardine on Lake Huron is twelve miles. In the winter 
 time this is frequently " a hard road to travel." With 
 the mercury below zero, and the wind going from forty 
 to fifty miles an hour, persons facing toward the lake 
 need to be well clad or the}^ will suffer from the cold ; 
 and even then " Jack Frost " will sometimes steal 
 through unsuspected openings in their habiliments and 
 leave his icy touch on their ears or cheeks or noses. 
 
 On one occasion the Rev. J. M. Simpson, who was 
 then presiding elder, and myself, had been holding mis- 
 sionary meetings at Kinlough and Kinloss. We had a 
 stormy night at the latter place, so that very few came 
 out to the meeting. We put up for the night with Mr. 
 and Mrs. John Hodgins. When we got up in the 
 morning we found that the night had left behind it 
 one of the wildest days that we had ever seen. It was 
 Saturday, and our Quarterly Meeting at Kincardine 
 was on the next day. There was no help for it — we 
 must face the storm. As we were about starting Mrs. 
 Hodgins said to me, " You must not freeze Mr. Simpson 
 on that cold road. You have been over it so often that 
 you have got used to it." I replied that he had only 
 one to look after, while I had two — myself and horse. 
 
 We started out about 10 a.m., and of all the days 
 that I have ever experienced that was one of the worst. 
 When we got about half way I asked Mr. Simpson if 
 he was cold. He said he was not, and we went on. 
 As we came nearer the lake the storm seemed more 
 
STORMS AND SNOWDRIFTS. 203 
 
 severe. We both got cold, and concluded to stop at 
 the house of Henry Daniels and warm, but when we 
 came to his gate it was entirely snowed up. Then we 
 thought to go on and stop at William Purdy's on the 
 next side line, but the snow was so blinding that we 
 passed that without seeing it. We concluded that we 
 were a long while in reaching the side line, but when 
 we found where we were it was inside the corporation 
 of Kincardine and almost home. 
 
 Next morning when I met Simpson I could not 
 keep my face straight while I looked at him. His 
 face had the most comical appearance of anything 
 that I had seen of the kind. Wherever the frozen 
 snow had touched, it had left a mark. His face looked 
 as though some one had taken the skin of an Indian 
 and cut it into round pieces ranging from five to fifty 
 cents in size, and stuck them on in grand confusion 
 all over it from top to bottom. When I had laughed 
 at him for a while, he asked me if I had looked into 
 the glass yet since we came home. When I did so I 
 found that I had been making merry at my own like- 
 ness, for my face was about as spotted as his. I had 
 been doing what people often do, namely, criticise in 
 others what is most like in themselves. Some of the 
 people said that we were queer looking specimens of 
 clerical dignity and official importance. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 
 
 THERE is no part of the duties of a Christian 
 minister that is so much calculated to beget 
 in the mind serious thoughts and to stir up tender 
 emotions in the soul as visiting the sick and dying. 
 At least that has been my experience. There are 
 a number of reasons for this. In the first place, 
 there is the voice of nature that speaks in tones 
 of sadness to the heart. What I mean by this is the 
 natural sympathy that almost every creature manifests 
 towards its fellow in the time of suffering. Even the 
 dumb brute is moved by seeing its companion in dis- 
 tress. And mankind is not less feeling than the mute 
 creatures around him. He is a hard man indeed who 
 can look unmoved into the pale face of the sufferer, 
 who lies upon a bed of pain, tossing from side to side 
 in the bitterness of extreme anguish. Another reason 
 for what I speak of is found in our benevolent affec- 
 tions. God has implanted into almost every one a 
 kindly desire to alleviate pain and suffering. Few, 
 indeed, are those callous natures that can contem- 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 205 
 
 plate the sickness and pain of any person, and not feel 
 prompted to acts of kindness, pointing to a restoration 
 to health and the removal of pain. 
 
 The claims of religion may be named as one more 
 reason why visiting the sick and dying is so serious a 
 matter. Our Christianity enjoins upon us the duty of 
 relieving the distressed and helping the needy as far 
 as we are able to do so. And a conscientious desire to 
 do our whole duty is one of the most efficient prompters 
 to this kind of service. We may do much good in this 
 way, even though our means may be limited and our 
 abilities may be small. There are so many ways of 
 showing kindness to the sick and sorrowing that no 
 one can claim exemption from the obligation to do 
 something. 
 
 And then when we think of what lies beyond the 
 sick bed, and the coffin and the grave, it seems that 
 the work of assisting and directing and encouraging 
 those who are about to enter into that unchanging 
 state is the most important employment that a minis- 
 ter or any other Christian can be called to engage in. 
 
 The most unpleasant work of any that I have ever 
 found in the line of ministerial duty has been to visit 
 the unsaved sinners in times of sickness or accident. 
 To live without religion is what a great many are 
 willing to do. But to die without it there are but 
 few who dare to. Men and women will live worldly 
 and sinful lives without thought or care. But if death 
 stares them in the face, the hardest hearts begin to 
 feel ; and as they stand upon the last shifting sands of 
 time, the bravest hearts quail and quake in the pres- 
 
206 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 ence of terrible realities that burst upon their aston- 
 ished vision. 
 
 Then men who have despised the righteous claims 
 of God and pursued the way of the transgressor see 
 their mistake and seek for tnercy. Then the man of 
 God is sent for. Then praying people are called in. 
 Then many promises are given and vows made to God, 
 promises that in nine cases out of ten are broken and 
 trampled upon in case the sinner is restored to health. 
 
 Sometimes, however, this is not the case, as the fol- 
 lowing instance will show. 
 
 He Would Not be so Mean. 
 
 A young married man was lying very low with 
 malarial fever. His medical attendant and his friends 
 got very much alarmed. His young wife was nearly 
 frantic at the prospect of being left a widow, after 
 only a few months of married life. A consultation of 
 doctors was held. One of the two new men called in 
 was an old man of large and long experience in the 
 profession. The conversation was carried on in the 
 sick-room, and the doctors supposed that the man 
 was asleep. But in this they were mistaken. The 
 invalid heard all they said at the conclusion of their 
 deliberations. He was a Universalist and he never 
 had given himself any uneasiness about the future. 
 
 The old doctor was the last to give his opinion. He 
 said at length : " I can see no grounds for hope. The 
 young man is going to die, and that before many 
 hours." 
 
 The man himself related the case to me years after. 
 I give his own words as nearly as I can : 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 207 
 
 " When the old man said this, I do not think I could 
 have been more astounded if the earth had opened at 
 my feet. My Universalism was gone in a moment. I 
 felt sure that there was a hell, and I thought that I 
 should be in it in a few short hours. What should I 
 do ? Should I now ask the Lord to save me, after I 
 had done all in my power against him? Should I seek 
 for mercy now because I could not do any more harm 
 in the world ? Should I desire to go to heaven, when 
 I deserved to be sent to hell ? These thouo:hts ran 
 through my mind in rapid succession. My decision 
 was this : I will not add insult to injury. I will not 
 be so mean as to try and sneak into heaven. I will 
 die and meet the consequences of a misspent life, but 
 if I get well I will serve the Lord." He got well, and 
 a short time afterwards was converted. He has been 
 some years in the Gospel ministry. Hundreds have 
 been saved under his labours. His decision might not 
 have been a wise one, but who will say it was not a 
 manly one ? I refer to the first part of that decision. 
 
 Almost Fatally Deceived. 
 
 In the early part of my ministry there was a man 
 lived near me who was dying with consumption. 
 He lost one wife by that flattering disease, so that he 
 was not ignorant of its deceptive character. He had 
 been respectably brought up under Methodist in- 
 fluences, so that the claims of religion were not 
 unknown to him, but like many others he had lived 
 until middle life without attending to the interests of 
 his soul. 
 
208 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 And he was now on the brink of the eternal world — 
 a dying, yet unconverted man. In visiting him I found 
 that he felt safe, although he knew that he was dying. 
 His plea was, " God is too merciful to cast me off." I 
 could not get him to look at any other aspect of the 
 question. Not a word that expressed sorrow for the 
 sins of the past. Not one word about trusting in the 
 Saviour. Nothing about the cleansing blood or the 
 sanctifying Spirit. He w^as simply relying on the bare 
 mercy of God, without any reference to His other 
 attributes. I was not just satisfied. But as the time 
 passed on he sank lower and lower, yet he kept to that 
 ground of hope; he seemed perfectly willing and ready 
 to die. At last I began to conclude that my doubts 
 were groundless, and what I had looked upon as a 
 thick cloud was only a thin shadow thrown over his 
 real condition, by his mode of expressing himself. 
 
 One Sunday night I came home from my evening 
 service. As I was about to retire a message came for 
 me to go and see Mr. M., saying that he was in a fear- 
 ful state of mind. I went as fast as I could to the 
 place. When I went into the room where he was I 
 found a number of people; they were all weeping, 
 and no wonder. On the bed lay the sufferer, whose 
 bitter cries for mercy might well have moved the 
 hardest heart. As soon as he saw me come into the 
 room he cried out, " 0, Mr. Hilts, what shall I do ? 
 Here I have been deceiving myself ; I thought I was 
 fit to die ; that is all a delusion. I am a dying man 
 and yet unsaved, unsaved ! What will I do ? What 
 will I do ? 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 209 
 
 I sat down by the bedside. He became a little 
 calm. Then I said to him, "John, I am at a loss what 
 to say to you. If you have not been mistaken when 
 you have told me that you were prepared to die, this 
 is a temptation of the enemy. But if you are not 
 prepared to die, this is the work of the Holy Spirit, 
 showing you your danger before it is too late." "0," 
 said he, " this is no temptation ; I am not mistaken 
 now. I am dying, and yet in my sins. O, what shall 
 I do ? " I talked to him, and read and prayed with 
 him. When we rose up from prayer he said to me, 
 " This can't last long. Don't leave me until I am 
 either dead or saved." I said to him. " I will stay 
 with you as long as you wish. But neither I nor any 
 one else can do much for you now. It is a personal 
 matter between you and your Saviour. Can you not 
 trust him to take away your sins, and fit you for 
 death ? " He answered, " I will try." 
 
 He lay for a few moments quite calm, and seemed 
 to be in deep thought. Then he commenced, as if he 
 were talking to himself. He said, " I am a sinner ; 
 Jesus came to save sinners ; I do believe that Jesus 
 will save me ; I believe that he will save me now." 
 With what intense eagerness did we catch every word. 
 The dying man went on, " I believe that He is saving 
 me now. 0, He has saved me. Glory to His name 1 I 
 am saved ! I am saved ! " A happier man I never 
 saw, and a more deeply moved lot of people I never 
 met than those that stood round that bed that night. 
 
 One week from that night I was sent for again in 
 the middle of the night. When I went into the room 
 u 
 
210 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOOOS PREACHER. 
 
 and asked him what I could do for him, he looked up 
 and said, " I do not want anything more here, I am 
 just going. But I sent for you to tell you once more 
 that Jesus saves me, and all is well." He turned over 
 with his face to the wall, and in a few minutes he was 
 gone. John Mockman lives in a brighter world than 
 this. 
 
 There was no Getting Away. 
 
 I was once sent for to go and see a man that was 
 thought to be near to his end. When I came to the 
 place I found a man well up in years. He was a man 
 of more than ordinary intelligence and culture. He 
 thought he was going to die. When I commenced to 
 talk with him I soon found that he knew more than I 
 did. He had any amount of Scripture at his command. 
 He could state a point and give the proof as readily 
 and clearly as any man that I had ever met with. 
 But for all this I found it impossible to get him to 
 realize his condition as an unconverted man about to 
 appear before his Maker. And yet he knew that he 
 was not prepared to die. He would acknowledge his 
 faults, but did not seem to see anything like transgres- 
 sion of God's laws in them. 
 
 He said to me at length : " You see before you a 
 man of a strange experience. God has often laid His 
 hand upon me and brought me very low. But I have 
 always put Him off with promises of doing better ; 
 but in every case I have broken my pledges. I am 
 like an unruly boy who has repeatedly offended his 
 father, and has escaped punishment by promises of 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 211 
 
 future obedience. At length the father's patience is 
 exhausted. He takes the lad in hand and there is no 
 more getting away from his strong grasp and heavy- 
 hand. The long-delayed punishment comes at last. 
 So it is with me. There is no getting away this 
 time." 
 
 He did get off that time. By God's blessing and 
 medical skill the man was once more restored to health 
 and lived some time after this. But he went back 
 into his old ways again. He is dead now ; but how 
 he died I am not able to say. How few there are who 
 faithfully fulfil their sick-bed promises. 
 
 She did not Die Then. 
 
 When people are given up to die by their friends 
 and physicians there is a sort of melancholy pleasure 
 in trying to do all that can be done to make them as 
 comfortable as possible. At such times the kindness 
 of neighbours and friends is manifested in various 
 ways. Everything is done that will relieve the pain 
 of body, or give comfort of mind, so far as it is possible 
 for willing hands and loving hearts to do so. 
 
 Prompted by this feeling a man called on me one 
 day to go and administer the sacrament to a woman 
 who was supposed to be in a dying condition. She 
 lived on the far side of the circuit, and was a member 
 of the Church. She was an excellent woman. I was 
 much surprised to learn that she was given up by two 
 doctors. I had not heard of her sickness till then. I 
 lost no time in going to see her. 
 
 When I got to the house I found Mrs. C. very sick, 
 
212 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PKEACHER. 
 
 and the family in great distress. The children were 
 greatly alarmed by the prospect of losing one of the 
 best of mothers. Mr. C. was nearly broken-hearted at 
 the thought of losing a true and faithful and loving 
 wife. A number of neighbours were there, and they 
 were lamenting about losing a good neighbour and 
 friend. We proceeded with the administration of the 
 Lord's Supper, the husband and some others taking a 
 part in the solemn rite. During the service the im- 
 pression was made on my mind that the woman was 
 not going to die at that time ; and in praying for her 
 restoration I felt confident that the prayer would be 
 answered. 
 
 After the room was vacated by all except Mr. C. 
 and myself, I said to her, " Mrs. C, I feel confident that 
 you are not going to die at this time." Her looks 
 changed in an instant. She said, " Do you think so ? " 
 I said, " Yes, I believe that you will be well enough to 
 go to meeting and hear me preach yet before Con- 
 ference." " Well," she answered, "I am willing to die if 
 the Lord so orders. But if it be His will that I should 
 live a few years more, I would like to do so on account 
 of William and the children." She did get well, and 
 lived some sixteen years after that. She saw her 
 children well provided for, and her husband an 
 honoured and useful man in the Church. Then she 
 peacefully and joyfully went to her rest. And her 
 children called her blessed. 
 
with the sick and dying. 213 
 
 End of a Wild Career. 
 
 One day I was splitting some firewood at the door 
 of the parsonage. My attention was directed to a man 
 on horseback who was riding toward me at a rapid 
 rate. When he came up he said to me, " The friend of 
 J. S. wishes you to come and see him. He is dying." 
 Here was a very undesirable call. T knew J. S. to be 
 one of the most wicked young men that I had ever 
 known. His mother had been left a widow in fair 
 circumstances some years before. She had a number 
 of boys of which this J. was the eldest. The mother, 
 like many another good woman, had more heart than 
 head, and more kindness than firmness. She was just 
 the kind of woman to indulge and spoil a lot of boys. 
 The softest mothers sometimes send out the hardest 
 boys. So it was in this case. I had sometimes seen 
 J. walk past the church on Sunday morning. But I 
 never saw him inside a place of worship. I had seen 
 him drunk more than a score of times. I had heard 
 the terrible oaths that came from him. I knew that 
 the doctor had told him some months before that 
 unless he gave up his dissipation he would die before 
 the year was out. Knowing all this, is it to be won- 
 dered at that I felt reluctant to go ? 
 
 I asked the messenger if J. sent for me. He said 
 " No ; it was his mother and his brothers." His 
 mother was a member of the Church, and his brothers 
 respectable young men. I could not refuse them. 
 
 But what good could I do him ? He had lived in 
 sin against God just as long as he could lift a hand or 
 
214 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 move a foot. He w^s dying, not by a visitation of God, 
 but as the outcome of his own recklessness. In fact, 
 he was but little less of a suicide than the man who 
 blows his own brains out or cuts his own throat. 
 
 I hitched up and went at once. When I got within 
 twenty rods of the house, I heard the moanings of 
 poor J. When I went into the house I found a number 
 of people there. All of them were sad, as well they 
 might be. On a bed in one corner of the room lay a 
 perfect wreck of the once active and strong young man. 
 At each breath came the short ejaculation, " O Lord, 
 O Lord." It was evident that this was not meant for 
 prayer, as his mind was so beclouded that he was quite 
 insensible to everything around him. 
 
 We read a chapter and had prayer. Then I tried 
 to get his attention so that I might say something to 
 him about his condition. But he seemed to be entirely 
 oblivious of all surrounding objects. Still his cry at 
 every breath was, " Lord, O Lord." The way this 
 was said made it sound like the utterances of a soul in 
 anguish, or the bitter outcry of a tortured spirit as it 
 was just about to sink into that night that knows no 
 morning. That plaintive cry seemed like the wailing 
 of despair, and it fell upon the listener's ear like an 
 appealing and warning voice coming up from the 
 regions of the lost. 
 
 Before another day had dawned upon our world he 
 died. At the hour of midnight, when the earth was 
 enveloped in its thickest clouds of darkness, the poor 
 abused and suffering body of J. S. sank into the arms 
 of death and his soul entered into the spirit world to 
 meet its God and receive its doom. 
 
with the sick and dying. 215 
 
 Saved at the Eleventh Hour. 
 
 On a bright Sabbath morning, in the early summer, 
 I started to my forenoon appointment. When I had 
 gone about a mile I was overtaken by a man who 
 came riding after me on horseback. As he came up 
 he said, "I want you to turn about and come with 
 me." 
 
 I asked what was the matter. He said, " Mrs. B. is 
 very low, and the doctor says she cannot live twelve 
 hours. She is unconverted. She is in a pitiable con- 
 dition, and very much alarmed about her future state. 
 She sent me to ask you to go and see her." 
 
 This woman lived some distance in the opposite 
 direction from my work, so that to comply with her 
 request would cause me to disappoint two congre- 
 gations. 
 
 The man who came for me was one of my circuit 
 officials. He said, " I think you had better go. The 
 living can stand to be disappointed better than the 
 dying. And before the flay is gone the poor woman 
 may be in eternity." 
 
 I turned and went with him. I had sometimes seen 
 this woman and her husband at church. They were 
 respectable people. But they, like thousands in the 
 world, took no interest in a personal salvation. They 
 lived for this world only. When we got to the place 
 we found the house full of people. A number of 
 Christian men and women were trying to help and 
 comfort the penitent sufferer. She was a woman in 
 middle life, with a fair share of intellect, and some 
 
216 EXPERIENCES OP A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 amount of culture. She was suffering from some kind 
 of inflammation. She was enduring great pain of body, 
 but her mental distress seemed to be more hard to 
 bear than her physical sufferings. We prayed, and read, 
 and talked with that poor woman till four o'clock in 
 the day. Then she came out of the darkness into 
 light, and out of sadness into joy. Her soul was filled 
 with a heavenly peace of mind and a joy unspeakable 
 sprang up in her heart. how she talked to her 
 husband, and with what earnestness did she pray for 
 the children she was leaving behind her. Her husband 
 promised her that he would seek and serve the Lord 
 so that he might meet her in that heaven to which she 
 now felt that she was going. Whether he kept that 
 pledge or not I do not know. The woman died that 
 night rejoicing in the hope of a blessed immortality 
 and eternal life. When I next visited the congrega- 
 tions that were disappointed that day I explained to 
 them the reason of my absence. Everybody seemed 
 to be satisfied. Several of the people said to me, 
 " You did right in going to lt)ok after the dying first." 
 
 A Doctor's Needless Fears. 
 
 Sometimes people allow themselves to drift along 
 with the tide of events, and do not know in what direc- 
 tion they are moving, nor how fast they are going. 
 Feeling no uneasiness, they take it for granted 
 they are on the right path. But at length they 
 discover that they have missed the way, and are travel- 
 ling in the opposite direction from that they intend. 
 Then they become alarmed, and they seek again the 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 217 
 
 path from which they have wandered. They chide 
 themselves for their carelessness, and resolve to do 
 better in the future. 
 
 This was the experience of Mrs. F. in her religious 
 life. She had been converted and had joined the 
 Church in early life. She lived a consistent and useful 
 life until she married an unconverted man. They set- 
 tled in a distant village. She neglected to take her 
 place in the Church, and was so far deprived of Chris- 
 tian counsel and encouragement. For some time things 
 went on smoothly with the young couple. Then a 
 very severe attack of disease brought Mrs. F, face to 
 face with her real state. She saw that she had strayed 
 from the fold and wandered away on the bleak moun- 
 tains of sin. 
 
 In her distress she wanted a minister of her old 
 Church. Being the nearest one to where she lived, I 
 was sent for. The distance was fifteen miles; how- 
 ever, I lost no time in going. I was acquainted with 
 the woman, having been employed to attend her mar- 
 riage. When I came to her home I found her indeed 
 very low. She was in great pain of body and in great 
 distress of mind. I soon concluded that her case re- 
 quired spiritual remedies more than medical treatment. 
 We had prayer with her, and just then the doctor 
 came. He lived in the same village that I did; we 
 were acquainted. I knew that he took but little in- 
 terest in religion of any kind, and I had been told that 
 he particularly disliked the Methodist. 
 
 After the doctor had attended to his duties and was 
 ready to start away, he called me outside ; then he said 
 
218 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 to me, " I want to caution you before I leave. Be very- 
 careful not to excite that woman in any way, as her 
 life depends on her being kept quiet." I said to him, 
 " Doctor, I think I know my business, I was sent for, 
 or I should not be here. The woman is in great dis- 
 tress of mind, and it seems to me that if you can be 
 trusted with my penitent you may trust your patient 
 with me. I shall be prudent but faithful in the dis- 
 charge of my duty." After the doctor left me Mrs. F. 
 requested that five or six of her Christian neighbours 
 should be invited to come in and hold a prayer-meeting 
 in the evening, as I was to stay all night in the village. 
 They came in as she wished. I cautioned them, and 
 also Mrs. F., against any undue excitement in our 
 devotions ; but it was of little use. The well ones did 
 as I told them, but the sick one got into a perfect 
 agony of spirit for a while. We were all uneasy for 
 her safety for a short time. Then everything changed. 
 She found again her lost enjoyment, and with a loud 
 voice she praised the Lord for restoring to her the joys 
 of His salvation. This continued for an hour, and then 
 she went into a peaceful slumber, and rested well all 
 night. Next forenoon the doctor came ; when he 
 went into the room he found the sick woman sitting 
 up in bed talking cheerfully with a neighbour. He 
 expressed great surprise at the change for the better. 
 The woman was well in a short time. She insisted 
 upon it that it was the Lord that cured her, not the 
 doctor. 
 
with the sick and dying. 219 
 
 Fear of Death All Gone. 
 
 George Maynard was a good man. For thirty years 
 he was a class-leader in the Methodist Church. When 
 an old man, he was thrown on a bed of sickness which 
 proved to be unto death. One day I went to see him, 
 he referred to his feelings on the subject of death. 
 He said, " I know that I was converted when I was a 
 young man. For many years I have had the evidence 
 of my acceptance with God. How is it that I have 
 always had a dread of death ? Can you explain this ? 
 Why should I be afraid of that which I fully believe 
 I am prepared for ?" 
 
 " Well," I said, " you know more than I do about 
 many things ; but in this, it seems to me that you are 
 taking too gloomy a view of things. Human nature 
 instinctively shrinks from death ; but by the help of 
 God's grace, even the fear of death may be overcome." 
 
 " Do you think," said he, '' that I can get dying 
 grace if I ask for it ?" 
 
 I said, " Doubtless you will get dying grace when 
 you need it. You know as well as I do, that the help 
 we get to-day will not meet the wants of to-morrow, 
 any more than that the bread we eat to-day will 
 satisfy the hunger of to-morrow. If God gives us 
 grace day by day to live right, we need not trouble 
 ourselves about dying grace until we need it. Then 
 we may rest assured we will get it." 
 
 " That is a view of the case that I have not thought 
 of before ; but I see that it is the correct view," was 
 his answer. About a week after this conversation I 
 
220 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 called again to see him. When I went into the room 
 I noticed a wonderful change in the expression of his 
 countenance. His face, it seemed to me, shone with a 
 heavenly light, and an angelic smile rested upon it. 
 As soon as he saw me, he said, "I have been waiting 
 for you to come ; I want to tell you that all my fears 
 are gone, and death to me now wears the kindly as- 
 pect of a friend, instead of the forbidding look of an 
 enemy. I want to tell you how it was that I got into 
 this happy frame of mind. 
 
 " Two nights ago I lay here alone. My wife was in 
 the other room attending to her housework. I was 
 thinking about death. What a solemn thing it is to 
 die. How must the spirit feel when it moves out of 
 the tenement it has so long inhabited. What will be 
 the soul's sensations when it goes out into the untried 
 and unknown state of things and for the first time 
 looks upon its new surroundings and realizes its 
 changed conditions. 
 
 " All at once a light darted into my room. I looked 
 up and seemed to see a shining pathway leading up a 
 gently ascending grade. With my eyes I followed 
 this shining way until it seemed to be swallowed up by 
 a brightness that is indescribable. Just there I saw one 
 standing whose garments looked like glittering gold 
 bestudded with sparkling diamonds. In one hand he 
 held a robe that was whiter than snow and a crown 
 that was brighter than the noonday sun. With the 
 other hand he pointed to these as he looked at me and 
 smiled. That look and that smile sent a thrill to 
 every fibre of my body and touched every faculty and 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 221 
 
 sensibility of my soul. My shouts of praise brought 
 my wife to enquire what had taken place. The vision 
 vanished, but not the joy. My soul has been in an 
 ecstasy ever since. There is not left a single shadow 
 of the fear of death." He never lost this happy frame 
 of mind until the last. He died within a week after 
 he related this to me. He was a man of sterling 
 character and beloved by all who knew him. 
 
 A Mother's Last Conversation. 
 
 Among the names whose memory I cannot but 
 cherish is that of Mrs. Ann Gilroy. I first made the 
 acquaintance of her and her family on the Teeswater 
 mission in the year 1858. Some years later she lived 
 in Kincardine when I was stationed there. 
 
 We were having a good revival in our church. Mrs. 
 Gilroy and her family all took more or less interest in 
 the meetings. When she could not attend, her son, 
 who lived at home, and three daughters were generally 
 at the services. 
 
 One night, on account of not feeling well, she stayed 
 at home. The rest of the family went to meeting. 
 During the evening some one made the statement that 
 " a true Christian is prepared for death at any time. 
 That to such a sudden death simply means sudden 
 glory." Jacob Gilroy noticed this statement. He 
 thought it was an extravagant saying. 
 
 When he went home his mother was still sitting by 
 the stove waiting for him and his sisters to come. 
 After the girls retired, mother and son sat up for a 
 while talking about family matters. After they talked 
 
222 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 some time and were about to retire, the son said, 
 " Mother, are you too tired to tell me one thing that I 
 would like to know before you go to rest ?" " What is 
 it ?" she said. " Well, it is this : to-night it was said in 
 the meeting that ' true Christians are always ready to 
 die. That to them sudden death is sudden glory.' 
 Now, mother, you have been a Christian ever since I 
 can remember, and I believe that if there are any good 
 people in the world you are one of them. Tell me, 
 now, if you knew that you would die before morning 
 would you not be frightened ?" She stood for a short 
 time as if in deep thought, and then said, "I do 
 not think that I would be at all alarmed if I knew 
 that I should die to-night. Why should I be afraid 
 to go to my home in my Father's house ? Good night." 
 She never spoke again. In the morning she was 
 found in her bed entirely speechless and motionless, 
 though still alive. Before night she was dead. 
 Some time after this the young man was in the city 
 of Philadelphia. • He had been to a revival meeting 
 and got very happy. He came home to his boarding 
 house, sat on a chair and fell off it, and was dead 
 before his room-mate could get to him. So that both 
 mother and son died unexpectedly. And we hope and 
 believe that both proved by a happy experience that 
 to the Christian " sudden death is sudden glory." 
 
 A Night of Sorrow. 
 
 One of the most touching events that I have known 
 occurred in one of the new settlements a few years 
 after I entered the ministry. 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 223 
 
 Typhoid fever was prevailing in the neighbour- 
 hood and many were dying of it. There was a 
 family that lived in the bush by themselves. The 
 man took the fever and was lying very low. No one 
 entered the house except the doctor. One night the 
 man died. His wife found herself alone with her 
 dead husband and her two small children, who, all un- 
 conscious of trouble, were sleeping in their little cot. 
 The woman's parents lived about three-fourths of a 
 mile off*, through a dense piece of woods and over a 
 large stream of water. The stillness of the house and 
 the lonesomeness of the place at length overcame the 
 poor woman's fortitude and courage. She picked up her 
 two children and ran as fast as she could till she came 
 . to the creek. In her confused haste she forgot all 
 about the footbridge over it ; she waded through it. 
 
 She went to her father's door. Through fear of the 
 fever her own parents refused to let her into the house. 
 Then she made her way back to her home as best she 
 could. When she came there she dared not go inside. 
 She sat down on the doorstep with her two little 
 ones in her arms. Next morning when the doctor 
 came he found her still sitting there, soundly sleeping, 
 forgetful of the terrible ordeal through which she had 
 passed. Two men went and carried the dead man out 
 and a few others took and buried him. 
 
 A Mistaken Doctor. 
 
 I once knew a boy in his teens who was stricken 
 down with typhoid fever. The medical man who at- 
 tended him was taken down with the same disease just 
 
224 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 when the boy was at the worst. He sent twenty-two 
 miles for another doctor to come and see himself and 
 his patients. 
 
 This strange doctor visited the sick boy, and left 
 orders to give him a certain amount of brandy every 
 hour. The lad kept sinking until he could not be got 
 to swallow the liquor or anything else. I was present 
 when he made his last call (until he called for his pay). 
 He was told that the brandy had not been given, for 
 the simple reason that the patient could not be made 
 to take it. He got angry and scolded the attendants a 
 good deal ; then he went away, saying the boy would 
 not live two hours. 
 
 After he was gone, Mr. Hacking, the boy's father, 
 said to me, " I have a great notion to try the water 
 cure, and put William in wet sheets. What would 
 you do if you were in my place ? " I said, "I am not 
 prepared to give any advice in the matter. You heard 
 what the doctor said. From all appearances, I am 
 afraid that his predictions will be verified. So far as 
 the boy is concerned, I do not think that it makes 
 much difference what you do, or what you don't do. I 
 fear he is past being benefited by human help." 
 
 The preparations for using the wet sheets commenced 
 at once. I left them, fearing that the boy would die as 
 soon as they undertook to move him. He had been 
 in a stupor for some days, and was seemingly uncon- 
 scious of everything about him ; but the result of the 
 eflfort on the part of Mr. H. and family was marvel- 
 lous. All night they continued their work. Next 
 morning early I went to the house expecting to find 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 225 
 
 the boy dead ; but he was still living, and when I 
 looked at him, I could see that he was unmistakably 
 better. That boy got well, and is living yet. The doc- 
 tor afterwards sued for a very exorbitant fee, and I 
 was called as a witness in the case. The judge allowed 
 him just half the amount asked for, and he paid the 
 cost, the amount having been offered to him, but he 
 refused it. 
 
 Deaths by Accident. 
 
 When people die, the shock to the surviving friends 
 is not so great as when they are killed by what is 
 called accident. In the one case there is time for the 
 friends to prepare for what they look upon as inevi- 
 table. In the other case the suddenness of the unex- 
 pected event gives a more crushing aspect to the 
 bereavement. 
 
 During my ministry I have been called upon to 
 perform the funeral rites for nine persons who were 
 accidentally killed; six of them were killed by trees and 
 limbs, one at a raising, and two in wells. To particu- 
 larize all of these would occupy too much space. I will 
 briefly refer to three cases. 
 
 Died in a Well. 
 
 James Mullen lived in a house built on one of those 
 " gravel hills " so common in some parts of the coun- 
 try. He started to dig a well near the house, and on 
 the side of the hill ; he was in the well which had 
 been dug to the depth of eighteen feet, and " curbed " 
 with plank and scantling. His father and his wife 
 15 
 
226 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 were working the windlass one afternoon ; all at once 
 the curbing gave way at the top of the first length of 
 scantling, and the whole thing collapsed. The planks 
 came together a few feet above Mullen's head, thus 
 saving him from being instantly crushed to death by 
 the tons of gravel that burst into the well from all 
 sides. As soon as the first shock was over he called to 
 those above to tell them he was not dead, but said he 
 was badly hurt, and partly covered up with earth. 
 The alarm was given, and men began to come from all 
 directions to assist in trying to get the poor man out. 
 They commenced to dig down to him from the top. 
 Every blow they struck only sent more of the dry 
 gravel sifting down upon the man below. Some fifty 
 men were there ; all night long they toiled, but all in 
 vain to save his life. Once they got so near him he 
 took a cup of water from them between the planks, 
 then a fresh lot of dirt fell in and shut up all the 
 openings. Somewhere about ten o'clock in the morn- 
 ing he called to one of his neighbours and said, " Tell 
 me the honest truth. Is there any chance to get me 
 out alive. The dirt is up to my chin ; I cannot move so 
 much as a finger; one more shaking down of the gravel 
 will bury me all up. Can you get me out ? " 
 
 The friend said to him, " James, you must look to 
 your God for help ; we are doing all in our power, and 
 will do so ; but I greatly fear no human help can 
 reach you in time to save your life." 
 
 Shortly after he spoke again, saying, " The dirt is 
 covering me up ; " that was his last word. 
 
 When he was at length got out, one of his legs was 
 
WITH THE SICK AND DYING. 227 
 
 broken ; that was all the serious hurt that could be 
 found upon the body. A great concourse of people 
 attended his funeral ; I spoke to them out of an up- 
 stairs window, that being the most suitable place from 
 which to address the multitude. I saw James Mullen's 
 wife a few years ago ; she wa^ still a widow, though 
 now past middle age. 
 
 He Read His Own Funeral Text. 
 
 People who have always lived on the front have 
 but little idea what life in the backwoods means. The 
 deprivations of the early settlers are far from being 
 appreciated by those who have never been without 
 schools, and churches, and mills, and stores, and neigh- 
 bours; and never is the want of these so severely felt 
 as in the time of trouble and bereavement. A number 
 of years ago a family by the name of Colbeck moved 
 into the north part of the township of Luther. They 
 were Methodists; but now they found themselves 
 away from the means of grace in the public worship 
 of God. They instituted a system of worship of their 
 own. The whole family would take a part in reading 
 at family devotions. One morning the lesson read 
 was the fifteenth chapter of Jeremiah. The youngest 
 son, a young man, read the last verse, which reads as 
 follows : " And I will deliver thee out of the hand of 
 the wicked, and I will redeem thee out of the hand of 
 the terrible." That was the last thing he ever read. 
 
 He and his brother went out to the fallow to chop. 
 Before noon a limb fell out of a tree and struck him. 
 He never spoke nor moved. 
 
228 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 I being the nearest Methodist minister, was sent for 
 to attend his funeral. At the time I lived on the sixth 
 line of Garafraxa. I had to go about twenty miles to 
 get to the place. 
 
 When I came there it was the wish of the mother 
 that the last verse that her boy had ever read should 
 be his funeral text. I could not refuse her, though it 
 allowed me no time for preparation. There were two 
 or three married children settled around the old people. 
 From what I saw of them I took them to be an excel- 
 lent family. One of the Colbecks is in our ministry, 
 and a member of the Guelph Conference. 
 
 Choke-damp Killed Them. 
 
 Two dead men in one old well are not often seen- in 
 this country. Such a thing is enough to cause a sen- 
 sation in any locality. In the vicinity of the Black 
 Horse Corners in Kinloss this scene was witnessed a 
 few years ago. 
 
 Two well-diggers undertook to clear out an old well 
 and dig it deeper. They went to the place to com- 
 mence work. They prepared a windlass. One of 
 them was to go down and do the work in the well, and 
 the other was to work the windlass. When the man 
 in the tub got about half way to the bottom he fell 
 over out of the tub and went to the bottom, where he 
 lay so still his companion thought that he had fainted, 
 or else he was in a fit. 
 
 Help was called for. A number of men were on 
 hand in a short time. But the question was, Who 
 would volunteer to go down and bring up the body of 
 the man whom every one now believed to be dead. 
 
with'the sick and dying, 229 
 
 At length an old farmer, named Brownscome, who 
 lived on the adjoining lot, offered to go if none of the 
 younger men would do so. He had them to tie a 
 rope tightly around him under his arms. They com- 
 menced slowly to let him down. When he reached 
 the point where the other had fallen out of the tub, he 
 seemed to wilt like a scorched leaf, and, slipping out 
 of the rope, he fell to the bottom as lifeless as a lump 
 of lead. 
 
 Then it became evident that there was something in 
 the well more than the common air. On applying a 
 test it was ascertained that the well was half full of 
 gas of the most deadly kind. The bodies were taken 
 out by long iron rods with hooks on the ends of them. 
 Mr. Brownscome was an Englishman. He was one of 
 the class-leaders on the Kincardine Circuit. He was 
 an excellent man, but his life was thrown away for 
 want of a little forethought, for if the well had been 
 tested sooner he might have been saved. We buried 
 his remains at Kincardine Cemetery. 
 
 How great to him would be the sudden change. 
 One moment surrounded by a group of anxious neigh- 
 bours ; the next moment among the angels and the 
 spirits of just men made perfect. No doubt, to him 
 sudden death was sudden glory. 
 
CHAPTEE XI. / 
 
 TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 
 
 FEW and far between are the individuals in this 
 country who can claim complete exemption 
 from the effects of the liquor traffic. In no direction 
 can we turn so as not to cross the slimy trail of this 
 monstrosity. It draws itself over the threshold of the 
 peaceful, happy home, and peace and happiness flee 
 from its presence. It drags itself into the workshop, 
 and blows its foul breath into the face of the mechanic, 
 and he exchanges his tools for the drunkard's mad- 
 dening bowl, and barters his workshop for the drunk- 
 ard's dishonoured grave. 
 
 It goes to the cultivator of the soil and whispers to 
 him of gain and gold, and he turns his acres into 
 sources of supply to the man with the capacious abdo- 
 men, the brewer, and the red-faced and blear-eyed 
 distiller. 
 
 It sneaks into the grocery store and points its pro- 
 prietor to the largeness of the profits of the traffic, and 
 he places the whiskey cask in the cellar beside the 
 pork barrel, and the butter firkin, and puts the brandy 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 231 
 
 bottle on the same shelf with mottled soap and friction 
 matches. It gets to the ear of the man who keeps 
 a boarding house and a travellers' home and persuades 
 him that his house and his business will go to ruin 
 unless he connects a bar-room with his dining-hall, and 
 mixes the sale of poison with the sale of food. 
 
 It shakes its brawny fist in the face of the politic 
 cian, and, like Peter in the "judgment hall," he dare not 
 tell nor act the truth. The lawyer is made to believe 
 that his case is made clearer when he wets his brief 
 with whiskey. The doctor is told that his patient has 
 a better chance for life with alcoholic medication than 
 without it. Thus in all directions has it spread its de- 
 lusions and in every locality has it placed its snares. 
 
 This Moloch has set up its shrines upon the hilltops 
 and in the valleys. They are to be found along the 
 country roads and beside the city streets. Every- 
 where they are to be found. And to these places 
 people go to pay their homage to this deceptive and 
 deceiving demon, and to caress and hug their de- 
 stroyer. 
 
 The mind of a philosoper would fail to grasp, and 
 the imagination of a poet would fail to describe, the 
 dark catalogue of woes that lie concealed in the secret 
 recesses of some of these temples where the rum-god is 
 worshipped. 
 
 We will stand awhile and watch the door of one of 
 these inviting places and see who enters. We see that 
 old man of seventy or eighty years, bending upon his 
 staff as he moves along with tottering steps to the bar, 
 were he has often been before. He has become so 
 
^32 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 familiar with the place that he seems like a fixture 
 there more than like a visitor. Poor old man ! he will 
 soon go where bar-rooms cease to be a snare. But will 
 the old drunkard be at rest ? 
 
 Next goes in a man just in his prime. He has a 
 wife and family at home. He loves them. He would 
 shudder at the very thought of harming them. But 
 he has made an entrance in the way that leads to the 
 drunkard's doom. He tarries long and late at night ; 
 he then comes out and goes staggering to his home. A 
 dark shadow henceforth hangs over that home for a 
 few years. Then it is broken up. The mother dies 
 with a broken heart. The children are scattered, to find 
 a home among strangers. A few years later the father 
 goes down to the drunkard's and the pauper's grave. 
 
 Next there comes strutting up the street a fast 
 youth. He has between his teeth the stump of a cigar 
 at which he is sucking away as if his very life de- 
 pended on a certain number of draughts per minute. 
 
 He swings himself with his cane and cigar into the 
 bar-room. While he dawdles around the tavern he 
 gets the finishing touches to a dissipated character and 
 learns some lesson in vice and uselessness that he did 
 not know before. 
 
 He goes from this out into the world to find a 
 thoughtless girl who will be silly enough to link her 
 destiny with his ; and when he finds her he will blight 
 her prospects in life, crush all hopefulness out of her 
 heart, drive the roses from her cheeks, turn her cheer- 
 fulness to sadness, and send her, as a mere wreck of 
 her former self, to a premature yet welcome grave. 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 283 
 
 But here comes a woman. See how wistfully she 
 looks into the face of every one she meets. She is 
 seeking some one that she dreads to meet. See how 
 she peers into that bar-room. Some absent one is 
 weighing heavily upon her heart. Who is it ? Is it 
 husband, son or brother ? We do not know. Or per- 
 haps she is a member of the "Woman's Christian Tem- 
 perance Union," seeking to save the idol of some other 
 woman's heart. 
 
 Look, look! Do you see that little bundle of rags 
 coming up the street ? Those rags are intended to 
 cover the person of a little girl, but in this they are 
 only very partially successful. See how she shrinks 
 from those she meets ; she pulls up the old rag of a 
 shawl that she wears so as to hide her face from the 
 rude gaze of the men and boys who are idly standing 
 on the sidewalk in front of the bar-room. See again 
 how she tries to conceal that bottle, in which she is 
 forced to carry to her thrice wretched home the devilish 
 stuff that poisoned with its offensive odours the first 
 breath of air that ever entered her lungs, and by its 
 Satanic influence has embittered every moment of her 
 life from then to the present time. 
 
 When I think that the poor little creature before us 
 may grow up to be a woman under all the bad influ- 
 ences of a drunkard's unblest home, it makes me sad 
 of heart. But, dear me, where am I getting to ? I 
 did not start to write a temperance lecture, but simply 
 to gather up a few pebbles from among the hard rocks 
 that lie along the trail of the rum traffic. 
 
234 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 No. 1. — He Wanted a Fiddler. 
 
 I was once sitting in a barber shop enjoying a shave 
 when a young man entered. He was very tipsy, as we 
 used to say when I was a boy. I think that the word 
 used now to convey the same idea is " tight." Well, 
 we will say he was " tight." As I said, he came in and 
 began to stagger about the shop, coming once very near 
 where I was sitting. I shoved the barber's hand aside 
 and said to him, " My friend, it makes me nervous to 
 have that sharp razor about my face under existing 
 circumstances." He took the hint, and told the party 
 to sit down and keep quiet. He sat down for a short 
 time ; then he began to walk the floor and sing, 
 
 " I will eat when I am hungry, 
 I will drink when I am dry. 
 And if whiskey does not kill me, 
 I will drink it till I die. " 
 
 Then, turning suddenly to the barber, he called out, 
 " I say. Bob, what will you charge to go to McMurchy's 
 on Wednesday night and fiddle ? We are going to have 
 a regular old Virginia breakdown, minus the curly 
 heads and black faces. What will you take and go ? " 
 
 "Well," said the other, "I will go for six dollars. Is 
 that too much ? " 
 
 " No ; come along." 
 
 He started out, but at the door he turned about and 
 said to me, " I say, mister, do I look like a man that 
 has spent one thousand dollars in six months ? " 
 
 I answered by saying, "When a man drinks whiskey 
 as you seem to do, it is not easy to say how much he 
 will spend." 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 235 
 
 " Well, six months ago, I had one thousand dollars in 
 cold cash, and to-day I have not one little dimie left!* 
 
 After he went out the barber said, " That fellow has 
 one of the best mothers that the Lord ever gave to a 
 young man, but he is breaking her heart by his dissi- 
 pation. He has two beautiful sisters who have no 
 superiors in the town, but they are almost distracted 
 about him, their only brother. His father is a good 
 man, too. Six months ago the young scapegrace offered 
 to go to Dakota and take up land, and go to work on 
 it, if he could get the means to do so. His father, 
 taking his words as truth, counted him out the money 
 that he told you of ; but he did not go West, and now 
 his money is gone and he is a nuisance to the place. 
 Before I would do as he has done I would hire some 
 big man to tie a stone to my neck and then put me in 
 a wheelbarrow and trundle it to the end of the wharf 
 and dump me into the lake." 
 
 No. 2. — She did not Know what Ailed the Baby. 
 
 While passing a house one Sabbath my attention 
 was arrested by hearing my name called with much 
 vehemence. I stopped until a woman came out and 
 said, '* O, mister, will yes plase come in and see if you 
 can tell what is the matter wid me darlint of a baby." 
 Now, I knew that this house was one of the lowest 
 kind of groggeries, kept by a man who prided himself 
 on being a Protestant. He could curse the Pope by 
 the hour, and sing about " William of immortal mem- 
 ory," until he was hoarse. He knew as much about 
 the Boyne and William and the Pope as a goose knows 
 
236 EXPERIENCES OP A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 about driving a baker's cart, and not much more. I 
 tied my horse to a post and went in to see the "baby." 
 In an old rickety cradle was an infant of a few months 
 old, lying in a stupor. The poor little thing had every 
 appearance of being drunk. In the room were two or 
 three* other children, whose pinched and starved ap- 
 pearance was enough to make one's heart sick to look 
 at them. " What do you think is the matter with the 
 babe ?". I said to the mother. The father was in a 
 corner sleeping off the effects of an all-night carouse 
 with some companions in dissipation. 
 
 In answer to my question the woman said, " We do 
 not know what is the matter with the little dear. It 
 will lay sometimes for hours just as you see it now. 
 Thin it will wake up and act as if it was wantin' 
 somethin'. Thin it will pull away at me bosom until 
 I have no more for it. Thin it will turn sick at its 
 stomick and throw up all that it took, and after a 
 little it will cry, and I give it some more of the doc- 
 tor's stuff, and in a little while it goes into one of the 
 ' spells ' again." 
 
 I said to her, " Show me some of the doctor's stuff." 
 
 She went to a little cupboard and brought a bottle 
 and handed it to me. When I smelt of it, I said 
 " Why, this is only whiskey !" 
 
 " Shure, and that is all, sir ! " was her answer. 
 
 " And do you give this to your baby every time it 
 cries ? " I asked. 
 
 "Yes ; I make it nice and swate for the little darlint." 
 
 " Well, my good woman, do you not know that you 
 are killing your baby with this stuff. If you were to 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 237 
 
 strike it on the head with a hammer and knock out 
 its little brains, it would be sure to kill it. But to 
 feed it with this whiskey, as you say you do, will kill 
 it just as surely, though more slowly." The little 
 one died in a few days, and people said, " Poor little 
 thing, it was never strong, and it is well that the Lord 
 has taken it." 
 
 No. 3. — A Baby in the Snow. 
 
 In a certain locality there lived a farmer who had a 
 drunken wife. Do what he could he could not keep 
 her sober if she could get liquor. 
 
 One day they went to town. She had an infant of 
 a few months old in her arms. When they were 
 ready to start home, she had managed to get enough 
 of her favourite to make her tipsy. The man put her 
 and the baby in and wrapped them nicely up in the 
 sleigh robes, and charged his wife to hold on to little 
 Nellie as he had to look after the horses. The snow 
 was deep and the wind was drifting it up in heaps. 
 They had ten or eleven miles to go. 
 
 When they got home the man went to help his wife 
 out and found her fast asleep. But worse than that, 
 there was no baby to be found. It had slipped out of 
 its mother's arms and was lost somewhere along the 
 road. The man got one of his neighbours to go with 
 him and they started out to hunt up the lost little one. 
 
 After scanning every rod of road for six miles they 
 saw something that looked like the corner of a shawl 
 flopping above the snow. There they found the baby all 
 buried under, but one corner of the wrap that was 
 
238 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 around it. When he took it up and shook off the 
 snow, the child looked up at him and cooed and 
 laughed as though it was being taken out of its cradle. 
 
 No. 4. As good a farm as could be found in the 
 county was the one left to No. 4 by his father. He 
 had learned to drink in early life. Sometimes he 
 would take too much. But not much was said about 
 it. But the habit grew upon him. At fifty-five years 
 of age his farm was gone, his wife was dead, and he 
 was homeless and penniless and almost a vagrant. 
 All through rum ! 
 
 No. 5 had a good farm given him by his father. 
 He married a good wife. For some years he was a 
 leading man in the Church. Then he lost his wife 
 and took to drink. He married another good wife. 
 He 2:ot along for a few years pretty well. But the 
 drinking habit increased. He became reckless about 
 his business ; got to horse-racing and other bad ways. 
 He mortgaged his farm for money to spend foolishly. 
 He died while still comparatively young, leaving his 
 wife with his first wife's children and her own to 
 provide for as best she could. 
 
 No. 6 kept a hotel on a splendid farm that his 
 father and mother had hewed out of the solid wilder- 
 ness. He married into a respectable fafhiily. He took 
 to drink, and in middle life died a raving maniac, re- 
 quiring three strong men to hold him in bed while 
 whiskey and deliriur)! treTnens did their terrible work. 
 
 No. 7 was a school teacher without wife or 
 family. He was a man of large intelligence. He was 
 a member of a Church, He gave way to the appetite 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 239 
 
 for drink. He joined the Sons of Temperance to try 
 and get the mastery over this habit. He broke his 
 pledge after having kept it for a year or two. He got 
 on a drunk and never sobered off until deliriums took 
 hold of him. He died, shouting at the top of his voice, 
 " O take away these snakes ! " 
 
 No. 8 owned a good two hundred acre farm and 
 kept a store. He was a very clever man. He stood 
 high in the estimation of his neighbours. He was 
 county warden for a number of years. He was a 
 candidate for parliamentary honours, and would have 
 been a very useful man if he had kept sober. He be- 
 came more and more the slave of drink, and finally 
 died, leaving a large property so involved that his 
 family could not redeem it. His wife in a few years, 
 as I am told, followed him to an untimely grave through 
 strong drink. 
 
 No. 9 was a doctor, said to be well read up in 
 medical science. He took to drink. Lost his wife ; 
 he married another. She would not allow him about 
 the place when he was drunk. He lost his practice. 
 He became discouraged, and in a fit of despondency he 
 went into a hotel stable, cut his jugular vein, and was 
 found by the hired girl when she went out to milk the 
 cow. He had died alone. 
 
 No. 10 was a druggist, and a man of many fine 
 characteristics. He was honest, kind-hearted and 
 truthful ; but drink got the mastery over him, and 
 he died before the frosts of age had begun to bleach 
 his hair, leaving a noble woman to lament his untimely 
 end. 
 
240 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 No. 11 was a woman and a wife and a mother. 
 Her husband was a very fine man and an intelligent 
 manufacturer, doing a prosperous business. She took 
 to drink through taking liquor from a doctor as medi- 
 cine. Everything was done that loving solicitude on 
 the part of husband and friends could prompt or 
 devise to save her. But all to no purpose. Respect 
 for her sex forces me to close the story and draw a 
 veil over the scene. 
 
 No. 12 was a man who long took a leading part in 
 everything that was good. But he never could be 
 made to see anything wrong in taking a glass of liquor. 
 As he grew older the love of drink increased so that he 
 was frequently intoxicated. One day while drunk he 
 fell out of his waggon and was killed. The man who, 
 as a class-leader, had formerly often pointed others 
 in the way to heaven, came to his end through drink. 
 
 No. 13 was a hotel-keeper. He owned a corner 
 house in a town where I once lived. He took no pains 
 as to what sort of house he kept. He was hardly ever 
 found sober. He became one of his own best cus- 
 tomers. One day he became speechless while drunk. 
 He lay in this condition two or three days and then 
 died. 
 
 No. 3 4 was said to be worth twelve or fifteen thou- 
 sand dollars. When he was getting old he married a 
 widow much younger than himself. He became a 
 hard drinker. He got careless in his business. He 
 would lend his money without security or vouchers. 
 At length he was never sober. He was stricken with 
 paralysis one day and never spoke any more. He 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 241 
 
 died and left his widow to unravel the tangled skein 
 of business as best she could with the help of two or 
 three lawyers. They were quite willing to help her, 
 but somehow it seemed that the most of the ravellings 
 got into the wrong pockets, as usual, and the widow's 
 share was not very much. 
 
 No. 15 was a mechanic. He was an honest man 
 generally, but he was given to drink. One night he 
 went home from work and he took with him a jug of 
 whiskey. He asked his wife to drink with him ; on 
 her refusing to do so, he produced a bottle of laudanum 
 and commenced to take it. His wife, seeing the word 
 poison on the bottle, sprang forward and took it from 
 him. But he took it from her again after a desperate 
 struggle, in which he scratched her hand at a fearful 
 rate to force her to let go the bottle. He swallowed 
 the poison in his drunken madness and died before 
 anything could be done, as no doctor could be got. 
 
 No. 16 was a veterinary surgeon. He was a man 
 who would have been a good and useful citizen only 
 for drink. But his appetite controlled his judgment 
 and overruled his conscience. He struggled with his 
 enemy for a while and then fell a victim to this destroyer 
 of thousands. He died, while still a young man, leav- 
 ing a wife and family to weep over a drunkard's grave. 
 
 No. 17 was a medical doctor. He was a man of 
 great skill, and at one time he had a very large and** 
 lucrative practice, but he became dissipated in his 
 habits. He lost much of his prestige and patronage.. 
 He went on from bad to worse until he died at the age 
 of fifty, leaving a family behind him. 
 
242 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 No. 18 was the wife of a doctor. When I commence 
 to write about her it seems to me that I can hear the 
 whispers of a sainted mother and two sisters, and 
 three daughters, now in glory, saying, " Spare our sex. 
 Don't write bitter things about them." My heart 
 refuses to dictate, and my hand declines to pen the 
 sentences that portray a woman's sins and sad, sad fate 
 through drink. She died, and that is enough to say. 
 
 No. 19 was a capitalist and money-lender. He was 
 one of the most manly men I ever met, but alcoholism 
 was his weakness and his bane. And all the influence 
 of a kind wife and lovely children and every con- 
 sideration that pointed to domestic felicity and 
 financial success failed to check his downward course. 
 His sun of life went down at noon, and the grave 
 received its victim from the hands of the rum-seller 
 ere the hand of age had made a wrinkle upon his 
 brow. 
 
 No. 20 was a lawyer who stood well in the profes- 
 sion, with as fine a little woman for a wife as ever 
 presided over a peaceful home. He was trusted and 
 honoured by his fellow-citizens. He was successful in 
 his business until the great giant that has conquered 
 so many noble men got him in his grasp. That grasp 
 was never relinquished until the poor victim died. 
 Then weeping friends and mournful neighbours carried 
 him to the grave. Everybody knew that the lamp of 
 his life had been blown out by the foul breath of the 
 rum-demon. 
 
 No. 21 was a model young man. He grew up 
 under the careful training of a very strict religious 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 243 
 
 mother. At twenty-one he had never tasted strong 
 drink of any kind. Mothers would point their sons to 
 him as an example of what a young man ought to be. 
 He married a most amiable and excellent wife. The 
 old homestead in which he was born and reared had 
 been put into his hands, along with the care of his 
 aged parents, who were both living. About the age 
 of twenty-five he commenced to drink. At thirty- 
 two he was tippler, a spendthrift, and a rake. At 
 forty his farm was gone, his wife was dead, and the 
 old people had gone in sorrow to their grave. His 
 eldest son died a drunkard before he reached the 
 age of twenty-five. At last accounts the unhappy 
 cause of this wretchedness was still on the road to 
 destruction. 
 
 No. 22 was an old man when I first saw him. He had 
 owned a farm, but it had passed out of his hands. He 
 was a very hard drinker. He lived on the outskirts 
 of the town. One terrible night in winter he left the 
 hotel and started to go home ; he never got there. The 
 next spring he was found in a gully on the back end 
 of a farm, nearly a mile from his home. He had gone 
 past his own gate, got lost, and wandered off into the 
 fields and died in a drift. 
 
 A poor old man one winter night, 
 Seeking his home with all his might, 
 While no kind helper was in sight, 
 
 Sank down beneath the snow. 
 How oft he strove to rise again, 
 And seek his homeward path in vain ; 
 How long he lived to suffer pain, 
 
 No one on earth can know. 
 
244 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 'Tis said that he was fond of drink, 
 And sellers did not stop to think 
 How soon their customer might sink 
 
 And die beneath the snow. 
 They seem to have but little care, 
 If they could but his coppers share, 
 Where he might go, how he might fare. 
 
 At bedtime he must go. 
 
 No. 23 was a man of strange history. He married 
 quite young, and went at an early day to one of the 
 back townships and secured three hundred acres of 
 bush land of an excellent quality. He faced the diffi- 
 culties of pioneer life like a hero ; he worked like a 
 slave till he got a large clearing and good buildings. 
 In fact, he had one of the best farms in the county of 
 Grey. At last he took to drinking so hard that he 
 made a complete fool of himself. He was a nuisance 
 in the neighbourhood and a terror to his family. His 
 farm passed out of his hands ; he and his wife parted ; 
 the children were scattered ; he sank lower and lower, 
 and the last that I heard of him he was a homeless 
 wanderer, beloved by no one, and remembered only to 
 be despised. 
 
 No. 24 was left with a fine property by his father. 
 He was always fond of drink, and took no pains to 
 conceal or control the appetite. He married young. 
 After a few years of fast living and recklessness in 
 spending his money, he found himself a poor man. 
 He went to hotel-keeping for a while, but in a short 
 time he died and left his wife in poverty. 
 
 No. 25 was a genius ; he had a good farm, and for a 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 245 
 
 long time got along as well as his neighbours ; but he 
 foolishly sold his farm and bought a hotel in a little 
 village near by. He took to drinking and in a few years 
 died through drink. So far as natural endowments 
 were concerned, this man was capable of becoming 
 anything almost, but the light of intellect and fires of 
 genius were extinguished by the liquid that has 
 darkened so many pages of human history. 
 
 No. 26 was an old man when I first met him. He 
 was a general favourite, especially among the children 
 and youths of his acquaintance. He was a slave of 
 the drinking mania. He had neither family nor 
 friends in this country. He was a Frenchman. At 
 length he became a sort of promiscuous helper at two 
 hotels about a mile apart, going from one to the other 
 as necessity or inclination demanded. One stormy 
 night in winter, while in a state of almost helpless 
 intoxication, he started to go from one hotel to the 
 other ; but he never got there. The people where he 
 started from did not know but that he got through in 
 safety, and the people where he was going did not 
 know that he had started, so he was not missed for a 
 week or more. Next spring, when the snow went off, 
 his remains were found in a drift alonof the fence 
 beside the road. Part of the face had been eaten by 
 the foxes. 
 
 No. 27 was an English lady of good social position ; 
 but culture, refinement, social standing, womanly dig- 
 nity, and religious principle were not a safe environ- 
 ment to save her from the allurements of the liquor 
 traffic. She died. 
 
246 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 No. 28 was a tailor by trade, and a number one 
 workman. He got entangled in the snares of this 
 deceiver. He lost his wife, then sank lower in his 
 habits. Afterward he married again. In a few 
 months he died calling for drink, and left a wife and 
 family of children to mourn without hope. 
 
 No. 29 was a young man, or rather a large boy ; but 
 he was fond of drink, and was often intoxicated. In 
 one of his drunken bouts he sat down on the railway 
 track when a train was coming, and he was killed. His 
 career was a short one ; but it was long enough to add 
 one more to the hundreds of thousand of the victims 
 of this traffic. 
 
 No. 30 was a Canadian woman and the mother of a 
 family. She gave way to drink, and died in a snow- 
 bank. 
 
 No. 31 was a man of an influential position in his 
 municipality. He had a good farm. He had a superior 
 wife and a very fine family. He was for years a 
 member of the Church, and an office-bearer in it. He 
 gave way to the appetite for drink and became an 
 inebriate. He sold out his farm, left his family, and 
 went off no one knew where, a wicked and ruined 
 man. Where he is, if alive, or where he died, if dead, 
 are things unknown to his friends. 
 
 No. 32 was a floctor well read in medical science. 
 At one time had a large practice. He became a 
 drunkard, and died through drink before he was much 
 past middle age. 
 
 No. 33 was a man who had but few equals either as 
 a business man or as a citizen. For a number of years 
 
TRACES OF fHE TRAFI^IC. 24? 
 
 he was at the head of municipal affairs in his town- 
 ship. He owned a very fine property, but drink 
 proved his bane. He died comparatively poor; 
 Through the mercy of God, he was led to seek and 
 obtain forgiveness after he had destroyed. his constitu- 
 tion and squandered much of his property. He died 
 lamenting the folly of his life. 
 
 No. 34 was the wife of No. 32. She was an exceed- 
 ingly interesting person ; was refined, intelligent and 
 amiable in her manner, and good-looking, if not beauti- 
 ful in her appearance. She drank^ and she died. 
 
 No. 35 was a farmer. He was a man of more than 
 average intelligence ; he was a hard worker ; he cleared 
 up his farm, and raised a large family ; but he always 
 loved drink. At last it destroyed him in every way, 
 and he died a poor drunkard. 
 
 No. 36 was of the same name as No. 35, though 
 their homes were in different counties, and they were 
 no relation to each other. He was a genial, good- 
 natured man when sober, but when under the influence 
 of liquor he was quarrelsome ; but he broke himself 
 down, and died before he was old. He left a wife 
 and family behind him. He was missed by his neigh- 
 bours when he died. 
 
 I shall close this dark catalogue. I might add 
 many more, who have either been entirely destroyed, 
 or greatly injured by the use of legalized poison; but 
 I think that three dozen is enough for one list. I 
 could give the name and location of every person 
 enumerated here, if it were necessary to do so ; but it 
 could serve no good purpose to give needless exposure 
 
^48 EXiPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACtlER. 
 
 to the sins and follies of the departed. Some in this 
 sad list were relatives of my own, and others were 
 relatives of my friends. I would not like to have their 
 names published to the world. 
 
 These unfortunate ones are all relatives of somebody 
 who would not like to have their names made public. 
 For this reason the names are withheld ; but that does 
 in no way affect the truthfulness of the statements 
 made in the above descriptions. The question that 
 meets us right here is, " Who slew all these ? " The 
 only truthful answer that can be given is : these were 
 slain by the legitimate results of a traffic that the 
 Christians of this country have protected by Act of 
 Parliament and licensed for money. The day is com- 
 ing when the blood of these people must be accounted 
 for. Where, then, will the responsibility rest ? Can 
 all the blame be thrown on the unfortunates them- 
 selves, and on their destroyers, the liquor-sellers ? No, 
 not all. The man who upholds the traffic by vote or 
 otherwise will have to bear a share. The woman who 
 favours the traffic by her words or by her actions wull 
 have to take a part of this responsibility. 
 
 Another question comes up closely related to the 
 former. It is this : " What slew all these ? " These 
 were all slain by a substance that the Rev. Dr. Carry, 
 and others who think with him, claim to be an indis- 
 pensable ingredient in sacramental wine. The learned 
 Doctor repudiates the use of any unfermented liquid in 
 the administration of the sacrament. In fact, he seems 
 to think it is almost sacrilegious to use the unfermented 
 juice of the grape in that solemn rite. 
 
TRACES OF THE TRAFFIC. 249 
 
 Let us examine the position of those who assume so 
 much and prove so little on this important and inter- 
 esting subject. The only new ingredient introduced 
 into grape juice by fermentation is alcohol. So if wine 
 must be fermented before it is fit for sacramental pur- 
 poses, it must be the presence of alcohol that imparts 
 to it that fitness. Now, if it be the presence of alcohol 
 that gives the fitness, then why not use any other 
 liquid in which this qualifying ingredient is found. 
 
 For instance, " What is fermented wine ? " — It is 
 alcohol and something else — mostly water. 
 
 " What is whiskey ? " — It is alcohol and something 
 else — mostly water. 
 
 Alcohol is the only indispensable ingredient in sacra- 
 mental wine. Fermented grape juice contains alcohol, 
 and hence it is equal to the demands of sacramental 
 wine. Whiskey contains alcohol, and it is equal to the 
 demands of sacramental wine. Now, since things equal 
 to the same are equal to each other, it follows that 
 whiskey and fermented wine are equal to each other 
 for sacramental purposes. 
 
 Doctor Carry and his friends may please themselves 
 in the selection of what they will or will not use in 
 administering the sacrament, but I am happy to be 
 able to say that years ago I gave up the use of alco- 
 holic wine and whiskey for sacramental or any other 
 purposes, only when given as medicine by an honest 
 medical man. 
 

 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 
 
 IN the lonely Isle of Patmos the aged servant of 
 God saw a great wonder, as, by prophetic vision, 
 he scanned the future of the cause of Christ. Looking 
 through the vista of the coming ages he saw a great 
 red dragon work its way into heaven, or into the eccle- 
 siastical organization called the Church. 
 
 The dragon was a fabulous monster of antiquity. 
 He was the symbol of heathen superstition and idola- 
 try. He was the embodiment of cunning, craft and 
 cruelty. His existence was fabulous, so was the good 
 that he was supposed to give to his deluded votaries ; 
 but the harm that he did was fact. So that in con- 
 nection with the old-time dragon we have two fables 
 and one fact. 
 
 But the old seer looked on down the declivities of 
 time until he saw the dragon cast out of the eccle- 
 siastical world, and thrown among the politicians to be 
 dealt with as his deserts demanded. Before taking his 
 leave, he transferred his power to a seven-headed and 
 ten-horned beast, and left it to work mischief and dis- 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 251 
 
 aster to the Church, while he transformed himself into 
 another shape and went into the world to work out 
 the destruction of millions by a new process. 
 
 Of this modern dragon it may be said that his ex- 
 istence is a fact, and the harm that he does is another 
 fact ; but the good that he promises is only a fable. 
 So that in his case we find two very ugly facts and one 
 very delusive fable. 
 
 With the old-time dragon we have, at present, no- 
 thing more to do ; but of his modern prototype much 
 more could be said than our space will allow at present. 
 But though our remarks must be limited, we will say 
 a few things about it. 
 
 No sooner had the dragon found himself floating 
 down the stream of time than, like Milton's devU on 
 the burning sea, he began to look around for allies and 
 agencies. At last he managed to get among the poli- 
 ticians of the time of Queen Elizabeth, and obtained 
 a monopoly of the liquor traffic, in the shape of a 
 license granted to the Duke of Essex, giving him the 
 exclusive right to sell wines to the thirsty thousands 
 of Old England. Since then we can trace his slimy 
 trail through thirty decades of British legislation. 
 
 In some respects the liquor traffic and the slave 
 trade are alike. They are alike in this — they bring 
 men into bondage. The slave of drink is as really a 
 bondman as any Southern negro ever was. The differ- 
 ence in this case is, the one is in involuntary servitude, 
 the other is a consenting party to his own captivity. 
 The one is enslaved by force, the other is captivated 
 by fascination. The one is held by the strong grip of 
 
252 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 a lion, the other is charmed by the wily influence of 
 the serpent. Now. if you break the lion's jaw you 
 liberate the one, and if you kill the serpent you save 
 the other. 
 
 Slavery and the liquor traffic are alike in that they 
 subordinate the interest of the many to the gratifica- 
 tion of the few. 
 
 A hundred slaves had to suffer the lash, and toil 
 and sweat, and live like pigs, and die like dogs, in 
 order that one man might live in ease and idleness. A 
 hundred families must suffer want and abuse, and 
 starvation and disgrace, in order that the liquor-seller 
 may drive fast horses and sport himself in every way 
 he likes, and that his wife and children may get them- 
 selves into the boots and shoes, and hats and bonnets, 
 and dresses and shawls that ought to be on the wives 
 and children of his dupes. The slave trade pressed 
 most heavily on those who had nothing to do in up- 
 holding it. The negro and his family were the 
 sufferers. But they had no share in the profits of the 
 trade. 
 
 The wife and children of the drunkard are the 
 greatest sufferers from the liquor traffic. But the 
 makers and sellers of the poisonous compounds get the 
 money, while these get for their share the rags, the 
 hunger, the cold, the kicks, the bruises, the disgrace, 
 and death that are the inevitable outcome of a busi- 
 ness that has resting on it the condemnations of 
 heaven and the maledictions of all rifjht-thinkinor men 
 and women, both young and old. 
 
 There is nothing in my past life that gives me 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 253 
 
 greater pleasure than the fact that many years ago, 
 when I was a young man I commenced war with the 
 dragon, and for forty-five years I have been in the 
 conflict, with voice and pen, and by practice and 
 precept have been a total abstainer and Prohibitionist. 
 
 When I got married I was president of a temperance 
 organization. I have been associated with every kind 
 of temperance society that has existed in this coun- 
 try. I am among the oldest temperance workers, and 
 in the neighbourhood where I lived at the time I was 
 among the first to take a decided stand on the side of 
 total abstinence. 
 
 Jacob Kerr, John Sidy, Robert Miller and myself 
 entered into a compact that we would not tolerate the 
 use of liquor by going to a bee where it was. Soon 
 others joined with us. In about two years from this 
 the use of strong drink at bees was discontinued in 
 that locality. 
 
 My work as a temperance speaker has mostly been 
 in the back country. Four out of six counties with 
 which I have been connected with the cause, either in 
 its incipient or advanced stages, have now the Canada 
 Temperance Act in force, viz., Bruce, Huron, Welling- 
 ton and Dufferin, and I hope that Perth and Grey 
 will soon fall into line. Then all the field of my efforts 
 as a temperance lecturer will be under prohibition. 
 And it must be remembered that it used to cost more 
 in every way to be an advocate of total abstinence and 
 prohibition than it does now. Then the cause was un- 
 popular, and the question new as compared with 
 the present. A man required considerable uerve tq 
 
254 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 stand up in an audience and advocate an unpopular 
 subject, when nine-tenths of his hearers were in sym- 
 pathy with the opposite side of the question. 
 
 I can easily remember when it was very difficult to 
 get a minister of the Gospel to stand on the platform 
 and advocate the claims of temperance. They were 
 either nofc in favour of the movement, or they were 
 afraid to speak out on the subject. The charge of 
 political interference was a bugbear to many, and the 
 fear of the loss of influence was a terror to others. 
 
 There were two classes of men that could and did 
 stand by the cause. These were the obscure men, who 
 had but little reputation to forfeit, and the men of 
 means of their own, who could get along without the 
 people's money if they had to do it. But this latter 
 class was very small. 
 
 Of the former class there were more. And they did 
 the best they could, and success has cr6wned their 
 efforts. But many of the popular men gave the cause 
 of temperance " a good letting alone " until the cause 
 itself became popular. And another difficulty was 
 that the question was a new one, so that there had not 
 been much light thrown on it by the great luminaries 
 of the world of thought. 
 
 To find argument that could stand the adverse 
 criticisms to which every word and sentence of our 
 utterances were subjected was no easy matter. Now, 
 since the greatest minds of the world have fully can- 
 vassed the subject in all its aspects and given us their 
 conclusions and the reasons for them, it is an easy 
 matter to find something to say on temperance. Almost 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 255 
 
 anyone can be a lecturer at the present time. But it 
 was not so forty or fifty years ago. 
 
 I will now give an account of some of my experi- 
 ences in fighting the dragon. 
 
 Fearful School Trustees. 
 
 In the county of Perth, on the line between Wallace 
 and Elma, and some few miles north of Listowel, is a 
 little village called Molesworth. I am thus particular 
 in pointing out the place because there used to be a 
 very careful and cautious Board of School Trustees 
 living and having authority there. 
 
 When I went to Listowel as a missionary, twenty- 
 eight years ago, the country was new, having been very 
 recently settled. But it was not too new to have a 
 good, live lodge of Good Templars in Listowel. I at 
 once joined them and became one of the active workers 
 in the cause. 
 
 A young man by the name of Winters, who lived 
 near Molesworth, asked me to go and give a lecture on 
 temperance, in the schoolhouse. To this I consented, 
 and the arrangements were made for a meeting on a 
 certain night. 
 
 At the appointed time I and four or five others from 
 Listowel rode out to the place on horseback. When 
 we came to the spot, we found a lot of men sitting on 
 logs around the schoolhouse, which was in the bush. 
 We tied our horses to some saplings, and joined the 
 company, but the door was locked. 
 
 On enquiry being made as to why the door had not 
 been opened, it came out that the leading trustee, who 
 
256 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 held the key, had some very strong objections to al- 
 lowing a temperance meeting to be held in the school- 
 house. Another trustee was among the men present. 
 He demurred a little at what he called the doggedness 
 of his brother in office. 
 
 He asked what kind of a meeting we intended to 
 hold. I explained in a few words what was the 
 routine of a temperance meeting. While we were 
 talking, the man who held the key came up. On being 
 told who I was, he turned to me and said : " Sir, you 
 are a stranger here. We don't know anything about 
 you. You may be a good man or you may not. We 
 can't tell. But before I open the door, I want a guar- 
 antee from you that no injury will be done to the 
 house." 
 
 I said to him : " Sir, I am a stranger, as you say. I 
 don't know anything about the people around here. 
 They may be all right and they may not. I shall give 
 no guarantee for them. But for myself and those who 
 came with me I will promise that we will not harm 
 the house while we are in it, nor carry anything away 
 from it when we leave it. That is as far as I can go." 
 
 By this time between thirty and forty men were 
 there. The door was opened, and we held the first 
 temperance meeting ever held at Molesworth. An 
 effort was soon after made to organize a Good Tem- 
 plars' Lodge. But in canvassing for names the com- 
 mittee met at one house a minister who was visiting 
 among the people. On learning what it was they 
 were trying to do, he advised them to give it up, giv- 
 ing as his reasoii that the whole thing was only a 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 257 
 
 " Yankee humbug." One remarkable thing about the 
 meeting at Molesworth was the fact that not a single 
 woman or girl was present. On my mentioning it, the 
 chairman said they did not know that it was a suitable 
 place for women. 
 
 An Ex-Reeve in Trouble. 
 
 When I went to Meaford the first time, I had only 
 been there a week when I was called on by a Presby- 
 terian elder, who asked me which, side I was on in the 
 temperance question. 
 
 I told him that I was a practical total abstainer and 
 a thorough Prohibitionist. 
 
 " Well," said he, " you are a man after my own 
 heart. I want you to go with me to-morrow to a con- 
 vention of the temperance men of this township. We 
 are just now on the eve of voting on the Dunkin Bill 
 in St. Vincent, and we shall be pleased to have your 
 help." 
 
 We went to the convention, which was held in a 
 grove on the ninth line of St. Vincent. There were 
 four or five ministers there, and a large number of 
 people. The contest was exciting a good deal of 
 attention. 
 
 There was a man there who had been the reeve of 
 the township for a number of years, but he had been 
 run out that year. He was at the meeting, and after 
 the ministers had spoken and most of them had left 
 the ground, he came forward to represent the " antis." 
 He was a good speaker and a shrewd, sharp man. He 
 made a very severe attack upon all ministers who took 
 17 
 
258 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 an active part in the contest against the traffic. He 
 accused them of meddling with politics, and compared 
 them to incendiaries going about with torches in their 
 hands to destroy their neighbours' property, and other 
 things that he said was not at all complimentary to 
 the clergy. 
 
 When he got through with his speech he left the 
 stand, picked up his hat and was about to leave the 
 ground. I called to him and said : " See here, Mr. — , 
 I have something to say about you, and I would be 
 pleased if you would stop and hear it." 
 
 " All right," he said. " Now, I suppose we will have 
 some more torchlight." 
 
 " Yes, sir," I answered. *' And sparks, too. If you 
 don't want the sparks to get into your eyes, you must 
 put your goggles on. Then everything will look as 
 verdant to you as your arguments do to me." 
 
 I took up his statements item by item, as we used 
 to say at Conference. He stood it for awhile. Then 
 he and his chums got up and left the ground. I did 
 not call after them, but I felt like it. If I had done so 
 I should have said something like this : 
 
 How the sparks fly here and yonder, 
 Lighting where the dust lies thickest, 
 
 Making rummies stop and wonder, 
 
 Then, try who can "git" the quickest. 
 
 The chairman was a good honest Quaker, Hiram 
 Bond. 
 
 A blind girl, Lizzie Stephenson, did good service by 
 singing a number of pieces. She was the daughter of 
 a hotelkeeper and the sister of another. 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 259 
 
 As we were going home, William Carnahan, the man 
 -that I went with, said : " I am glad that Greer found 
 his match. He is a hard man to cope with, and most 
 people are afraid of him." 
 
 " Well," I said, " I am not a very good hand to be 
 afraid of men. But, after all, there is something 
 about that man I like. He is no sneak. I like a man 
 that has the courage of his convictions, whether he 
 agrees with me or not." 
 
 The Same Man Again. 
 
 Some years after the convention above mentioned, 
 there was one held in the town of Meaford. This time 
 the condition of things was wonderfully changed 
 from what they were at the meeting on the ninth line. 
 
 The representative of the " antis " at that gathering 
 was the chairman at this. Now, it would not be fair 
 to Mr. Greer to leave the impression that he had be- 
 come an advocate of prohibition. This he had not 
 done, and, so far as I know, he has never come to that ; 
 but he had become so far reconciled to temperance 
 men and their work that he would consent to preside 
 at one of their meetings — and no better chairman of a 
 public meeting was to be found in that community. 
 
 There were people there from all directions and of 
 every class of persons. Hotel men and shopkeepers 
 were there, as well as farmers, merchants, mechanics 
 and professionals. At that meeting I ventured to hint 
 at the plan of compensation, as the safest and surest 
 means of abolishing the traffic. When I spoke of that, 
 one of the hotel men in the crowd called out and said, 
 
260 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 " If you temperance men will start on that line, you 
 will at once have three-fourths of hotelkeepers with 
 you, and the other fourth would only be the scum of 
 the trade, and would not be worth any consideration 
 in the matter." 
 
 Nothing that I heard since then has changed my 
 mind in regard to 'the inherent justice of compensa- 
 tion, yet what I have seen has convinced me of its 
 impracticability. From the actions of many of the 
 men in the traffic, I have come to the conclusion that 
 if the trade was bought out to-morrow, on a promise 
 not to engage in selling liquor any more, not one in 
 five would keep that promise. I am sorry that the 
 course of action, adopted by the opposers of prohibi- 
 tion, has driven me and others to the decision that 
 nothing but force will successfully cope with this 
 abomination of the nineteenth century, as we have it 
 in this country. 
 
 They Wanted Only Logic. 
 
 There was a time in this Province, before Confedera- 
 tion, when the municipal council might refuse to 
 license any place to sell liquor of any kind. Then, if 
 people wanted prohibition, they could only get it by 
 electing men to the council board who were in favour 
 of it. The township of Wallace was the scene of a 
 contest of this sort when I was in Listowel. The tem- 
 perance party resolved to test the matter, and try to 
 elect a majority of good, reliable men who would close 
 up the sale of liquor in the township. 
 
 I was invited to lecture on temperance in a school- 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 261 
 
 house, where a large majority of the people were 
 adherents of the Church of England, and nearly all 
 opposed to the temperance movement. When I went 
 to the place I found a house full of very respectable- 
 looking people, who were waiting for me. We opened 
 the meeting in the usual way, and then a chairman 
 was called for. After considerable delay we got one. 
 In a few opening remarks he said : " I don't know 
 much about temperance, but I believe this man is here 
 to tell why we ought to work for old James Bolton 
 and other temperance men." Then he turned to me 
 and said : " Now, mister, we will listen to what you 
 have to say. We want no cant or sentimentalism ; we 
 want logic." 
 
 On rising up I said : " I am glad, sir, that you want 
 logic. Yourself and your audience look as though you 
 could appreciate sound reasoning, and I hope you and 
 they have sufficient candour to receive an argument 
 even though it does come from a stranger. I shall not 
 appeal to you as Christians, for that might be con- 
 strued into the cant that you deprecate ; neither will 
 I address you in the name of Methodism, for that to 
 many of you would only be another word for fanati- 
 cism, but on the broad ground of patriotism I shall 
 base my remarks. Now, I want you to agree or dis- 
 agree with my first proposition, which is this : * That 
 which tends to the production of pauperism, crime and 
 misery should be discountenanced by every good citi- 
 zen.' Will you endorse that ? " I said. 
 
 After a moment he said : " Yes, that is a true state- 
 ment of fact, whatever conclusion it may lead to." 
 
262 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 " I am glad," said I, " that we have common ground 
 to stand on at the start, for if we agree at first I think 
 we shall not differ at the last. Now my next state- 
 ment is this : The drinking usages of society tend to 
 the production of pauperism, crime and misery. They 
 tend to pauperism by wasting our resources ; by mis- 
 directing the course of trade ; by enervating labouring 
 men ; by wasting time in tippling and drunkenness ; 
 by using the means of satisfying hunger to make 
 whiskey ; and by needless destruction of property in 
 many ways. They tend to crime by exciting the bad 
 passions, under the influence of which crime is com- 
 mitted ; and by weakening the moral sensibilities by 
 which crime is prevented. Thus they strengthen the 
 downward tendency, and at the same time they break 
 down the barriers of resistance, so that by a double 
 process they send men to the penitentiary, to the gal- 
 lows and perdition. Will you endorse that state- 
 ment ? " I asked him. 
 
 " Well, I don't see how to do anything else, unless I 
 am to deny or ignore facts, and I am not disposed to 
 do either," was his answer to my question. 
 
 " I am very much pleased," said I, " that I have to 
 do with an honest, intelligent chairman, and a logical 
 audience. Now that we are agreed on the two main 
 propositions, the conclusion follows as a matter of 
 course — so that as good citizens we are bound to dis- 
 countenance the drinking usages of society." 
 
 " Well," said the chairman, " I never thought that 
 temperance men had such good ground to stand on in 
 their opposition to the traffic." 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 263 
 
 " That is because you have never investigated the 
 subject," I said. 
 
 " I wish that you would give that address in every 
 school section in the township," said he. 
 
 " Well, so far as that is concerned," I said, " you need 
 have no fears. The Rev. Mr. Luke is looking after a 
 part of the township. I am doing what I can. A 
 minister of your own Church will visit some of the 
 sections ; and Mr. J. J. Linton, of Stratford, has sent 
 an armful of his papers, called the ' Prohibitionist,' into 
 the township. We intend to prevent the sale of 
 ' dragon juice' in Wallace next year, if it is possible 
 to do so." 
 
 I shall close this chapter by giving some extracts 
 from a report of a mass meeting, in the town of Kin- 
 cardine, the first year of my residence there. It is 
 taken from the Bruce Reporter, of Feb. 8th, 1877. 
 
 " Mass Meeting ! 
 
 " Temperance men to the front. Facts and figures 
 in favour of prohibition. The pulpit on the attack. 
 
 " A mass meeting of the Congregational Alliance, on 
 Monday evening, was largely attended. The meeting 
 was opened with prayer by the Rev. Mr. Anderson. 
 The chair was occupied by Mr. Ira J. Fisher, who, after 
 stating the object sought by the Congregational Tem- 
 perance Alliance, called upon the Rev. J. H. Hilts to 
 move the first resolution — which reads as follows : — 
 
 " Resolved, — * That the liquor traffic, as hitherto 
 carried on in this and in other countries, has been ex- 
 tensively a source of misery, crime, and every form of 
 
264 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 degradation, calling aloud for all that can be done by 
 the voice of a strong public opinion, and by wise 
 legislation to regulate and restrain it.' 
 
 " Mr. Hilts said that he was coming down from his 
 usual platform to-night. If it had been to prohibit or 
 blot out, instead of regulate and restrain, it would 
 have been better. But as it was, he was proud to 
 defend the temperance cause even on the low level on 
 which it was put. 
 
 He was the unrelenting enemy of the liquor traffic 
 — not of the men who deal in it — on account of the 
 number he had seen ruined by it. Sound philosophy 
 would require the abolition of everything that does 
 more harm than good. The best State policy would 
 enjoin the discontinuance of any and every institution 
 that impoverishes and demoralizes the subject. True 
 philanthrophy would lay a firm, though kindly hand, 
 on every class of actions that can result in nothing 
 else than human misery. 
 
 " Genuine religion, speaking in the name of God and 
 humanity, would utter its solemn protest against every- 
 thing that tends to nothing better than to make man 
 more wicked. 
 
 "We are persuaded that the liquor traffic is the 
 enemy of sound philosophy, of true State policy, of in- 
 dividual happiness and of religion. The whiskey traffic 
 involves a waste of means, and hence it tends to 
 poverty. The amount of grain made use of in 1873 was 
 1,733,164 bushels. The excise duties and customs in 
 1873 were $4,762,278. This only indicates the manu- 
 facture and importation, not touching the cost of 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 265 
 
 license ' to sell.' This waste is on the increase, for in 
 1873, eighteen distilleries made 5,547,062 gallons of 
 spirits. But, in 1875, twelve distilleries made 68,062 
 gallons more than that amount. Thus, it seems, that 
 while temperance men congratulate the country on the 
 reduction of distilleries, the traffic is really strengthen- 
 ing its position by reducing the number of salient 
 points ; while it is throwing all its influence and con- 
 centrating all its forces into a few mammoth corpora- 
 tions. Hence, while the necessity for defensive stra- 
 tagem is made less, the power for agressive warfare 
 is increased 
 
 " The amount of spirituous liquors made in 1875, 
 was 5,615,740 gallons, and the malt liquors made in 
 the same year was 11,584,226. Now, if we allow that 
 one quart of this whiskey or one gallon of this beer 
 would keep a man drunk for a day, then the whole 
 amount would keep 120,000 hors de combat for a 
 
 whole twelve months These men at $1.00 
 
 per day would be worth $36,814,200 
 
 " In 1874 a committee was appointed by the Senate 
 of the Dominion, to enquire into the propriety of a pro- 
 hibitory liquor law which was asked for by some 500,- 
 000 of the people of the Dominion. I shall give some 
 extracts from the report of that committee. * Your 
 committee regard the vast and increasing number of 
 petitions, and the unanimity in the statements and 
 prayer of the several petitions, as indicating the im- 
 mense and pressing importance of the subject to which 
 they call the attention of the Senate ; and the pro- 
 found and widespread feeling of the need of such 
 
266 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PEEACHER. 
 
 legislation as shall at once check and eventually ex- 
 tirpate from our land the vice of intemperance v^^hich 
 has so long been and still is a prolific source of crime, 
 misery, disease and death, and a blight upon the fair 
 prospects of our young Dominion.' 
 
 " The petitioners further state that ' the traffic in 
 intoxicating liquors is shown by the most careful 
 inquiries to be the cause of probably not less than 
 three-fourths of the pauperism, immorality and crime 
 found in this country.' The evidence gathered by a 
 committee of the House of Commons last year is 
 strongly in corroboration of this assertion. It will be 
 observed here that the committee seems to sanction 
 the statement of the petitioners. 
 
 " Men in official positions agree that intemperance 
 increases crime. The recorder of Montreal says that, 
 speaking for himself and associates, ' All are of opinion 
 with me that, apart from the violations of statutory 
 law and the by-law of the city, every case tried before 
 the court, with a very few, it* indeed, any exceptions, 
 arises out of intemperance. The clerk of the court is 
 of opinion that the proportion of the cases which owe 
 their origin to intemperance is at least three-fourths. 
 His first assistant sets the same proportion at seven- 
 eights, and his second assistant at nine-tenths. My 
 own opinion corresponds with the latter.' 
 
 " He continues : ' The records of criminal courts in all 
 countries, and the dying declarations of the great 
 majority of criminals who have suffered the extreme 
 penalty of the law, all clearly establish the fact that 
 nearly all the crimes committed, especially those of 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 267 
 
 greater magnitude, would never have been conceived in 
 the first place, or afterwards have been carried out to 
 perpetration by the offenders but for the baneful 
 effects of intoxicating drinks. Licensing the sale of 
 intoxicating drinks as beverage cannot, therefore, be 
 regarded otherwise than as productive r.f crime.' 
 
 " T. W. Penton, in 1873 the Chief of Police in Mont- 
 real, says : ' Mostly all offences are due, either directly 
 or indirectly, to intemperance.' 
 
 " Mr. Prince, the Chief of the Toronto Police Force, 
 gives the number of arrests in 1873 for drunkenness 
 and disorderly conduct at 2,952. 
 
 " The Chief of Police at Ottawa, Thomas Sangrell, 
 says : * The number of persons confined in the Police 
 Station in 1871 was 722; of these 591 were intemperate. 
 In 1872 the number was 724; of these G31 were in- 
 temperate. In 1873 the number was 936 ; of these 
 621 were intemperate.' 
 
 "L. A. Voyce, Mayor of Quebec, says 'that in 1871 
 the number of arrests for drunkenness was 1,217, and 
 in 1872 it was 889, and in 1873 it was 976.' 
 
 " James Cahill, the Police Magistrate of Hamilton, 
 says : ' The number of arrests in that city for crimes 
 connected with the liquor traffic in 1871, was 659 ; in 
 1872,868; in 1873, 881.' 
 
 " Nor is the bad effects of the use of intoxicating 
 drinks in any way confined, but in all communities it 
 is the same. Lord Hamilton, in the British House of 
 Commons, speaking on the Permissive Liquor Bill, 
 says : * We have the testimony of the Home Secretary, 
 who acknowledges the evils, and admits that our 
 
268 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 judges, magistrates, governors of gaols, inspectors of 
 police and every one acquainted with administration 
 of law, concur in the opinion that the greater part of 
 the crime in the land is to be attributed to the curse 
 of intemperance. 
 
 " Lord Shaftesbury says : ' Is there any one in the 
 least degree conversant with the state of your alleys, 
 dwellings and various localities, who will deny this 
 great truth which all experience confirms ; for if you 
 go into these fearful places, you see there the causes 
 of moral mischief, and I do verily believe that seven- 
 tenths of it are attributable to that which is the 
 greatest curse of the country — habits of drinking and 
 systems of intoxication.' 
 
 " The Inspector of Prisons in Belgium says : ' My 
 experience extends over a quarter of a century, and I 
 can emphatically declare that four-fifths of the crime 
 and misery with which in my public and private 
 capacity I have come in contact, has been the result of 
 drink.' 
 
 "Mr. Quitelet says: 'Of 1,129 murders in France, 
 during the space of four years, 446 have been in con- 
 sequence of quarrels and contentions in taverns, which 
 would tend to show the fatal influence of the use of 
 strong drink.' 
 
 " Mr. Hill says : * Every one acquainted with our 
 criminal courts must see the truth of what our judges 
 state day by day and year by year, that by far the 
 greatest number of all offences have their origin in 
 the love of drink.' 
 
 " On this head I give the following declarations from 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 269 
 
 the most intelligent and able judges of the English 
 courts : 
 
 " Judge Coleridge : ' There is scarcely a crime that 
 comes before me that is not directly or indirectly 
 caused by strong drink.' 
 
 " Judge Gurney says : * Every crime has its origin 
 more or less in drunkenness.' 
 
 " Judge Patterson : ' If it were not for the drinking, 
 the jury and I would have nothing to do.' 
 
 "Judge Alderson says: 'Drunkenness is the most 
 fertile source of crime, and if it could be removed the 
 assizes of the country would be rendered mere 
 nullities.' 
 
 " Judge Wightman says : ' I find in the calendar that 
 comes before me one unfailing source, directly or in- 
 directly, of the most of the crimes that are committed 
 — intemperance.' 
 
 "Mr. Charles Paxton, M.P., a celebrated English 
 brewer, says : ' It would not be too much to say, that if 
 all drinking of fermented liquors could be done away 
 with, crime of every kind would fall to a fourth of its 
 present amount, and the whole tone of moral feeling 
 in the lower orders might be indefinitely raised. Not 
 only does this vice produce all kinds of wanton mis- 
 chief, but it has a negative effect of great importance. 
 It is the mightiest of all the forces that clog the 
 progress of good. It is in vain that every engine is 
 set to work that philanthropy can devise, when 
 those whom we seek to benefit are habitually tamper- 
 ing with their faculties of reason and will — soaking 
 their brains with beer or influencing them with ardent 
 spirits.' 
 
270 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 " This is remarkable language to be used by a manu- 
 facturer of the very drink that he complains of. His 
 testimony is all the better from this fact, that he is 
 speaking against his own interest in making those 
 statements.' 
 
 " I now have done with these extracts from reports 
 of Parliamentary Committees. But do they not most 
 strongly proclaim the startling truth embodied in the 
 resolution before the meeting ? Can any one be found 
 in the audience, or in the town, who is so blind as not 
 to see the propriety — nay, the positive necessity, of 
 regulating and restraining the traffic in intoxicating 
 drinks. 
 
 " What is to become of the noble youth and blooming 
 maidens of our town, if on every corner and in every 
 street they are brought face to face with this deadly 
 foe, whose slimy trail is to be found along the 
 centuries, and whose inky character has blotted the 
 history of our civilization for more than three hundred 
 years. Shall we, my friends, quietly sit down and 
 endorse the doings of this traffic ? Let a person of 
 doubtful reputation come within the circle of your 
 home, and see how soon, and wisely, you would seek 
 to secure your sons and daughters from the danger of 
 being contaminated by contact with such persons. 
 
 " But here is a traffic whose reputation is worse than 
 doubtful, whose vile character is well known, and it 
 is asking you to sanction the removal of the very 
 reasonable restrictions which your council in its wis- 
 dom imposed upon it last year. Will you consent to 
 this ? Methinks I hear a strong and determined NO 
 from all parts of this hall to-night. 
 
FIGHTING THE DRAGON. 271 
 
 " TJiis traffic comes down to us from ancestral times 
 and it is laden with startling memories, and it unfolds 
 to us many dark and tragic scenes, enacted in princely 
 mansions and lonely dwellings. 
 
 " True, it comes to us endorsed by our forefathers, but 
 it is an endorsation obtained by false pretences. It 
 comes to us sparkling with the jewels of wealth, but 
 it glistens with teardrops also. It comes to us sanc- 
 tioned by the voice of legislation and law-makers, but 
 it is condemned by the cry of countless sufferers. It 
 comes to us singing the songs of gladness, but beneath 
 them are heard the undertones of woe. 
 
 " It comes to us in the garb of a friend, but it con- 
 ceals the pointed dagger of a murderous assassin. It 
 assumes the harmless aspect of the dove, but it glares 
 upon us with the fierce demoniac glitter of the ser- 
 pent's eye. 
 
 " There is not a man or woman here to-night who is 
 not interested in this matter. No one here wishes to 
 feel the crushing and withering influence of the demon 
 traffic. 
 
 " There is not a home in Canada but is worthy of 
 a better fate than that of being desecrated by so vile 
 a presence as the evil spirit of the whiskey traffic. 
 Chain up the rum-demon, friends, and support the first 
 resolution." 
 
 I may here say that as this was my first appearance 
 on the temperance platform in that town, I made the 
 best preparation that I could. The address was 
 written out at length and given to the meeting in the 
 form of a reading. 
 
272 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 After a few words by Mr. Thompson, who secctided 
 the resolution, it was passed almost, if not quite, unani- 
 mously. And it has been so far carried out that at 
 the present time Kincardine and the county of Bruce 
 are under the Scott Act. 
 
 In looking back over the past there is nothing that 
 gives me more real pleasure, so far as my own doings 
 are concerned, than the stand that I have taken for 
 forty-five years on the liquor question. I have done 
 a large amount of talking and writing, walking and 
 singing, and some praying, to help along the good and 
 philanthropic work of saving men from drunkenness. 
 I am glad in my heart that I have done a little to- 
 ward rolling on the car of temperance, and drying up 
 the foul channels through which this dragon of our 
 times sends out his stinking saliva to besot and poison 
 the slaves of their appetites. 
 
 My prayer is, that the time may soon come when 
 from Newfoundland to Vancouver there will not be 
 found one single man-trap in the form of a whiskey 
 den — when the banner of temperance shall float over 
 all the land over which the flag of our Dominion now 
 is waving. Nay, more, when the banner of temper- 
 ance, interwoven with the banner of the cross, shall 
 wave in triumph over all the world. 
 
CHAPTEK XIII. , 
 
 AT WEDDINGS. 
 
 " T^O you intend to say anything about weddings 
 
 l~y that you have attended ? " This question 
 was put to me by a person I was conversing with con- 
 cerning my " book." 
 
 My answer was : " Well, I had not intended to do 
 so, but if I thought I could make it interesting I would 
 write a chapter on weddings." 
 
 "No doubt," said my interrogator, ''you ministers 
 sometimes meet with amusing incidents on those 
 occasions." 
 
 " Yes, that is so," I said. " I have met with some 
 laughable things at weddings. And I have seen other 
 things that were not very amusing." 
 
 " If I were you," said my friend, " I think I would 
 have something to say about weddings. It would in- 
 terest the young people, at all events." 
 
 The young people are a very large and important 
 part of the population, and they are worthy of all con- 
 18 
 
274 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 sideration. I shall therefore try to act on my friend's 
 advice, and say something about those occasions to 
 which the young look forward, if not with fear and 
 trembling, yet with a great deal of anxiety. 
 
 My First and Only Wedding. 
 
 By this I do not mean the first one where I offi- 
 ciated as minister. But I mean the one where I and 
 another person were " the observed of all observers " — 
 the two most conspicuous persons present on the occa- 
 sion. I will try to present the scene as it comes back 
 to my memory over the graves of forty-three years. 
 And in doing this I ask the assistance, gentle reader, 
 of your own imagination to give vividness and colour 
 to the picture. 
 
 Now, just fancy yourself standing or sitting, which- 
 ever you prefer, in the best room of a rural home. 
 There are fifty or sixty present, who are all waiting 
 the entrance of the parties most interested in the day's 
 proceedings. 
 
 Presently a door opens and four young people enter 
 and take their positions in the usual way. 
 
 Now, take a look at the two who are about to slip 
 their heads into the matrimonial noose. The young 
 man who is anxious to become a son-in-law is about 
 twenty-five years old. He is above medium height. 
 He has dark brown hair, very fine and a little inclined 
 to curl, but not parted in the middle; eyes a dark 
 hazel, and eyebrows heavy, giving a cross look to the 
 features, which are coarse but not repulsive. The 
 nose and mouth indicate a quick temper and an inclin- 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 275 
 
 ation to stubbornness. A close observer would likely 
 say : " I am not just sure about that little girl being 
 able to manage that fellow. She may possibly lead 
 him, but it is certain she will never drive him." 
 
 Now, take a look at the bride. You see she could 
 stand up under the young man's arm. Take a fair 
 look at her ; she will bear inspection, she is good-look- 
 ing. Some say that she is handsome. Do you ask 
 how she was dressed ? I cannot tell ; I never was 
 good at describing ladies' dresses ; besides, on that par- 
 ticular day I had so many other things to think about 
 that I am not able to answer your question ; but I 
 presume she was well dressed, since I never heard any- 
 thing to the contrary. The ceremony was over in a 
 short time ; but while the minister was performing 
 it, a sort of petty persecution was going on in the 
 room. An aunt of the bride got a looking-glass and, 
 standing behind the minister, held it up before the 
 parties so that they could see themselves in it ; and a 
 cousin of the groom, who got himself where his face 
 could be seen in the mirror, stood and made all sorts 
 of faces at them to make them laugh ; but in this he 
 failed — the one was too much vexed to laugh and the 
 other was too much frightened. 
 
 Now, I am going to take the risk of being dubbed 
 a poetic failure, or being called a clumsy rider of 
 Pegasus. I give the following as a tribute to the 
 little woman who stood by me on that day : — 
 
276 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 MY WIFE'S GREY HAIRS. 
 
 How well do I remember now, 
 
 The day that we were wed ; 
 When auburn locks adorned her brow, 
 
 And beautified her head. 
 When first I took her to my side, 
 
 And claimed her as my wife. 
 Her youthful beauty was the pride 
 
 And treasure of my life. 
 
 Now, when I see some silver lines 
 
 Run through her golden hair. 
 It seems to me her goodness shines 
 
 More beautiful and rare 
 Than when I took her by the hand, 
 
 So many years ago. 
 And promised by her side to stand 
 
 Through long-life weal or woe. 
 
 These whitening tresses on her head 
 
 Speak of the fading past, 
 And tell of tears of sadness shed, 
 
 Of sorrows that have cast 
 Their lengthening shadows o'er the way 
 
 That led us on through life, 
 And tell of many a gloomy day 
 
 Since first I called her wife. 
 
 The hardships we together shared, 
 
 The ills that we have met, 
 Have not her faithfulness impaired, 
 
 Or caused her to forget 
 Her duty as a good true wife, 
 
 When tossed upon the tide. 
 Or in the battle's fiercest strife, 
 
 She never left my side. 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 277 
 
 What though the touch of time may leave 
 
 Some wrinkles on her brow, 
 What though beneath the weight of years 
 
 Her step becomes more slow ; 
 Yet still her eye seems just as bright, 
 
 Her voice sounds just as sweet, 
 While onward to the world of light 
 
 She moves with willing feet. 
 
 Three Frightened Ones. 
 
 The first couple that I married after I was ordained 
 was ill Listowel. The groom was a young man some- 
 where between early manhood and what would be 
 called old bachelorhood. He was a very quiet, sober- 
 minded man, who had a great amount of self-command. 
 The bride was a young lady somewhere in the latter 
 'teens. She was shy and timid, having been brought 
 up by a very strict and careful mother. She had 
 never been allowed to go into company very much. 
 The appointed day came round ; I went to the house 
 of the parents of the girl. A few of the relatives on 
 both sides were present. When the time came the 
 bride-elect and her mother were in a room by them- 
 selves. They were called, but they did not come ; 
 then they were sent for, but do what we would the 
 mother could not be got to come out. I enquired if 
 she was opposed to the marriage, and I was told that 
 she was well pleased about that ; but she would not 
 come out. So we proceeded. I was just about as much 
 frightened myself as any one need to be : I was afraid 
 of making mistakes. When the bride came out and I 
 saw her, I could not see what she had to be ashamed of. 
 
278 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 I have not, since then, seen a prettier or neater bride. 
 The mother came out after the ceremony was over and 
 attended the table all right. We have often talked 
 the matter over since then, and we concluded that we 
 all acted more like children than anything else. 
 
 In Too Much of a Hurry. 
 
 When I lived in Mount Forest I was called to go 
 out into the township of Minto to attend a wedding. 
 The distance was ten miles, the day was all that a cold, 
 blustering winter day could well be. When I got to 
 the place I found the house — which consisted of one 
 large room — full of people. A large cooking- stove 
 stood in the room, and it was literally covered with 
 the preparations for dinner. Such a display oi fowl 
 roasting I have never seen anywhere since then. 
 
 Turkeys within the stove, 
 Turkeys without the stove, 
 Turkeys about the stove, 
 
 Seemed moaning and muttering. 
 Turkeys above the stove, 
 Turkeys below the stove. 
 Turkeys around the stove, 
 
 Were hissing and sputtering. 
 
 Maidens with eyes so bright, 
 Old men with failing sight. 
 Children with hearts so light. 
 
 Sat down and pondered. 
 Matrons with queenly grace. 
 Young men with smiling face, 
 All of them in their place. 
 
 Looked on and wondered. 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 279 
 
 After everything was ready, the parties took their 
 places and the ceremony was commenced. The whole 
 company seemed to be in a mood for any amount of 
 fun and frolic. I thought there was a little too much 
 levity to harmonize with an occasion of so much im- 
 portance. I resolved to check it if an opportunity 
 offered. When the bride had responded to the usual 
 questions, the young man darted in front of me, and, 
 putting his arm around her neck, gave her a smack 
 that could be heard all through the house. I placed 
 my hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to his 
 place, saying, " Look here, my friend, this transaction 
 is something more than a farce. You will find it so 
 before you are as old as I am. I will tell you when it 
 is time to do the kissing." 
 
 " Well, all right," he said, " but I like to be a little 
 ahead of time." 
 
 I answered, " That may be all right, but it don't do 
 to get ahead of time in everything." 
 
 When all was over and I was about to leave, I said 
 to the young couple : " Next time you make a ' bee ' 
 to eat roasted turkeys and chickens, try and select a 
 more reasonable day than this, if you have to wait a 
 month to get it." 
 
 He Bought Her a Thimble. 
 
 When I was living in Thornbury I was called upon, 
 one very cold and stormy night, to marry a couple who 
 came in from the country a distance of eight or ten 
 miles. I offered to go to the hotel where the parties were 
 staying. This the young man objected to, saying that 
 
280 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 they would drive in with the team, as my house was 
 some distance from the main road. He went away 
 about nine o'clock in the evening, saying that they 
 would be on hand in a few minutes. 
 
 We waited till nearly eleven o'clock, and heard no- 
 thing of the wedding party. My wife said to me, " I 
 think you are fooled this time. It is likely that young 
 chap just came for a lark." It certainly looked like it. 
 At eleven we retired. We had just got into bed when 
 the parties came and rapped at the door. We got up 
 and let them in, and in a few minutes the twain were 
 made one. 
 
 When I asked them what had detained them, they 
 told me that they had been wandering about for an 
 hour or more, having lost the way. They had started 
 to come on foot from the hotel and the track being 
 drifted full they missed it. The girls were nearly tired 
 out. I gave the men a bit of wholesome counsel, and 
 made them promise never to drag their women through 
 the snow like that again. When all was over the 
 young man was going oft without offering me any fee. 
 When he had his hand on the door I said to him, 
 " Are you not forgetting something ? " He felt for his 
 mitts, looked at his muffler and at his hat and then said, 
 " No, I think not." 
 
 " Well," said I, " do you think that it is just the 
 thing to be called out of bed at this time of night for 
 nothing ? " 
 
 " Well, now, is it not strange that I should have for- 
 gotten that ? " said he ; " how much will it be ? " 
 
 I told him that two dollars would do. 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 281 
 
 " Can you change a ten ? " was his next question. 
 
 I told him I could not, but I would go with him to 
 the hotel and get the landlord to change it. This was 
 done, and I never saw the parties since ; but I heard 
 from them. 
 
 Next morning the bridegroom went into a store and 
 said to the merchant : " I was married last night. You 
 know yesterday was Christmas. Now, I want to buy 
 my wife a Christmas box and a wedding gift all in one." 
 
 " Well," said the merchant, " I can supply you with 
 the very thing you want. Only tell me the kind of 
 goods you want." 
 
 " Well," said the other, " I am not very particular 
 what it is, only I must have something nice" 
 
 Dress goods, shawls, bonnets and various other arti- 
 cles of feminine choice were shown, but none of them 
 would suit. The merchant began to fear that his stock 
 of goods was not up to the requirement of the trade in 
 that locality. While he was revolving in his mind 
 whether he could have a special order filled in time to 
 satisfy his fastidious customer, the young man gave 
 him a sort of knowing wink and asked if he had any 
 thimbles. 
 
 " 0, yes, how strange that I did not think of that 
 before," said the man behind the counter, as he handed 
 the new benedict a three-cent thimble. 
 
 A Question of Finance. 
 
 Some time while I had charge of the Kincardine 
 Circuit I went out to marry a couple near Armow. I 
 called at Brother Joseph Shier's on my way. When I 
 
282 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS I>REACHER. 
 
 was starting Mrs. Shier said to me : " Mr. Hilts, how 
 much will you get to-day for tying the knot ? " 
 
 " Well, that depends on two or three things," I said. 
 
 She asked me what I meant. I answered by saying, 
 " Some depends on his liberality, some on ability, but 
 more depends on the question of his being a bachelor 
 or widower." 
 
 " Why," said my questioner, " what has bachelorhood 
 or widowerhood got to do with it ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you just where the cause is to be 
 sought for, but, as a matter of fact and experience, I 
 have found out that men pay more for the second wife 
 than for the first, and more for the third than either of 
 the other two." 
 
 " Well, now, I did not think there was so much non- 
 sense in you as all that," she said. 
 
 " My good woman," said I, " it is not nonsense but 
 fact, account for it as we may. Now, if this man is a 
 bachelor and in pretty good circumstances, I will get 
 somewhere from two to five dollars ; but if he is a 
 widower in pretty fair circumstances, I will get some- 
 where from four to ten dollars." 
 
 " \^ell, that beats all. Will you call when you come 
 back and tell me how much you got ? " said she. 
 
 I promised to do so, and went on to the place where 
 the wedding was to be. After the ceremony was over, 
 and I began to take the usual statistics for registra- 
 tion, I found that the man had been married before. 
 I felt a little curious to find out whether his contribu- 
 tion on the altar of Hymen would harmonize with 
 what I had been saying to Mrs. Shier. When he 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 283 
 
 handed me the money rolled up in a bit of paper, I 
 put it in my pocket. Shortly after I took my leave 
 I called at Mr. Shier's, When Mrs. Shier asked me 
 about the wedding I told her the man had been a 
 widower. Then she wanted to know how much he 
 gave me. I took out of my pocket the little roll, and 
 when I opened it out it proved to be between four and 
 ten dollars, as I said it would be if the man had been 
 married before. 
 
 " Why is it," said the questioner, " that you get a 
 larger fee for second marriages than for first ? " 
 
 " I think," said I, " that there are sound reasons for it. 
 In the first place, men are older at the second marriage 
 than they were at the first, and therefore they ought 
 to be in better circumstances ; and in the second place, 
 we never know how to prize a good thing until we 
 have lost it ; and the Bible tells us that ' whoso findeth 
 a wife findeth a good thing.* " 
 
 A Tangled Question. 
 
 Once I was employed to join together an old couple 
 whose united ages would span about a century and a 
 half. When the old gentleman came to ask me to 
 marry him he seemed to be a little embarrassed. 
 Young men are almost always embarrassed under simi- 
 lar circumstances, but one would hardly expect an old 
 man to be very much disturbed. This old man, how- 
 ever, was somewhat in the condition described by an 
 old Irish friend of mine — " he was all through other." 
 When he told me who was the bride-elect I could 
 hardly believe my ears. I was acquainted with the 
 
284 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 old lady, and I had so often heard her say that she 
 "wadna hae the bonniest man that ever got himsel' 
 intil a pair o' breeks," I could hardly believe that she 
 would change her mind so much and so soon. 
 
 When the day came I went to the house of the 
 widow, and found the old gentleman already there. 
 I said to the old lady, " How is this ? You must have 
 changed your mind since you told me that you would 
 not have anybody." 
 
 She answered, " Weel, weel ; that callant ca'd here 
 twa or three times, and by his cannie moods an' win- 
 some ways he just thro'd me afF my guard. Then he 
 asked me tae be his ane guidwife, and he gaed and 
 tangled up the question sae that I couldna tell which 
 was yes or which was no. I thocht to say no, but I 
 must have said yes, for he takit me at the word, an' 
 noo I canna gang back on't." 
 
 " 0, the old fox," said I, " to go and corner up a poor 
 young innocent thing like that, and in the excitement 
 and confusion of one so young and inexperienced to 
 extort a promise to be his, and then hold her to that 
 promise. He ought to be ashamed of himself." 
 
 At this mock tirade of mine they both laughed 
 heartily. We soon got through with the ceremony. 
 When I was about to leave I said to them : " Will you 
 two young people take some advice from an elderly 
 man ? But no, on second thought, I will keep my 
 advice to myself, for it would be useless to give it, 
 because, no doubt, like other youngsters, you would 
 choose to learn by experience rather than take any- 
 body's advice." At this they had another laugh, and 
 I left them. 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 285 
 
 A Strange Bridegroom. 
 
 I was once called on by a man who lived in the 
 town where I resided. He came to engage me to 
 marry a couple. The young man, he said, worked for 
 him, and the young woman was the daughter of a 
 neighbour. I promised to attend to the matter. Be- 
 fore leaving, the man said to me : " Perhaps the young 
 fellow may not have any funds to pay you, but let 
 that go; I will see that you get your pay." I told 
 him that was all right. 
 
 When the time came I went to the house pointed 
 out to me. I found a number of people there, but the 
 bridegroom was not there. I was told that he had 
 been there, but he had gone out somewhere about town 
 to be back in a few minutes. We waited for him till 
 long past the time appointed, but he did not come. 
 Then two men went out to hunt him up. After a 
 while they found him and brought him with them. 
 When I saw the parties standing on the floor together 
 two facts flashed upon my mind. It was evident that 
 they ought to have been married before, and it was 
 equally evident that the girl was throwing herself 
 away. This may seem like a paradox, but most people 
 will understand what I mean. 
 
 When I commenced the ceremony the man evidently 
 was ill at ease. I thought once or twice, by his ac- 
 tions, that he would bolt and run ; but he stood like 
 one who was just where he did not like to be. The 
 ring was used to please the old people, but when we 
 came to that part where the ring is used, it seemed to 
 
286 EXPEKIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 me that he cared no more for the hand he was putting 
 the ring on than he would for the hand of an Eskimo. 
 
 After the ceremony was over I started to go out. 
 He followed me and said, " I can't pay you to-day, but 
 I will before long." I told him that would be all 
 right. The next week he went off and left his wife. 
 No one knew where he went to. Some time after I 
 met the man who had engaged me to marry them. 
 He said to me : " That young man that you married 
 has gone off and left his wife already, but I kept back 
 enough to pay you when I settled up with him." 
 
 I said to him : " Well, sir, I am glad you kept it, but 
 I do not want it. You give it to his wife. She, poor 
 thing, will need it before long ; give it to her, for I 
 don't want it." 
 
 A Queer Bridegroom. 
 
 I was leading a prayer-meeting one evening in the 
 church in Kincardine, when a middle-aged man came 
 up to me, as I was giving out a hymn, and asked me 
 to step to the door for a minute. When we got out- 
 side, he said : " I am sorry to interrupt you, but my 
 business is urgent. I want to get married this even- 
 ing, and, on my inquiring at the hotel for a minister, 
 I was sent to you." 
 
 " Very well, sir," I answered, " I can attend to you 
 as soon as this service is over, which will be in half an 
 hour. Where will I find you ? " 
 
 He said : " We will come to your house if you have 
 no objections. The lady does not like to be married 
 at a hotel." 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 287 
 
 I showed him my house and told him to come along 
 as soon after nine o'clock as they could. 
 
 He went away saying they would be on hand. They 
 were a little late, but they came alone. When I saw 
 the woman I was a little surprised that she should 
 marry the man, but on inquiry it came out that they 
 had been lovers in their young days, but something 
 had come in their way. She had been married to an- 
 other, and moved west from Ottawa to the new coun- 
 try, and with her husband had settled in the bush. 
 They had succeeded in making a good home. Then 
 her husband had died and left her and her family in 
 comfortable circumstances. The two had lost track of 
 each other for more than twenty years, but that day 
 they had met on an excursion train coming to Kincar- 
 dine. The man had never married. But he had also 
 come to the new country some years ago. When they 
 met on the train that day, and renewed old acquaint- 
 ance and talked of the past and found that both were 
 free, the old flame was rekindled. And they resolved 
 to be united before they returned home. But there 
 was something a little strange about the man that I 
 could not fathom. He was either very shallow or 
 very deep, and I could not make out which. 
 
 When they stood up and I asked him the usual 
 question, instead of answering he gave me a queer 
 kind of a look that I did not like. It was a sort of a 
 compromise between a grin and a sneer. 
 
 I looked him in the eye and said : " Mister, I want a 
 distinct answer to that question." 
 
 " Well, what do you want me to say ? " He spoke 
 with some emphasis. 
 
288 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 " I want you to say whether you will take this 
 woman to be your wife or not ? " 
 
 "Why, of course I will. That is just what I am 
 here for. 
 
 I said that would do and went on with the service. 
 
 They were both past fifty years old. The woman 
 was a fine-looking lady of her age and very respect- 
 ably dressed. After they were married the man told 
 me that not expecting anything of the kind when he 
 left home, he had not much money with him, but he 
 would pay me a part of the fee, and take my address 
 and send the rest of it. 
 
 I told him that would do. So he took the address, 
 but I fear he lost it, as I never heard from him since. 
 
 Manly Hotel-keepers. 
 
 Some young men have strange notions of true man- 
 liness. They will pride themselves on their ability to 
 fool and deceive any over-confiding young woman who 
 is silly enough to trust them. They will boast of 
 their conquests and glory in what is really their 
 shame. 
 
 I called them men. I wish, for the credit of real 
 manhood, to take that back. They are not men. They 
 are simply animals with breeches on. There are no 
 manly feelings in any one who can take pleasure in 
 wronging one who is weaker than himself. 
 
 I once knew a case where one of this class was 
 brought to the scratch in a way that he little ex- 
 pected. 
 
 He had been keeping company for a long time with 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 289 
 
 a very clever, industrious young girl, who was entirely 
 respectable. But her people were poor. She was 
 working at a hotel in the village where I lived at the 
 time. 
 
 After a while the young deceiver made up his mind 
 to go off and leave the poor girl to bear, as best she 
 could, the result of her over-confidence in him. 
 
 The man for whose wife the girl was working was 
 a constable. When he learned from his wife the state 
 of affairs, he started to where the young fellow was. 
 He found him at another hotel and just ready to take 
 the stage for parts unknown. 
 
 The constable laid his hand on him and said, " I 
 want you to come with me." 
 
 " Where to ? " said the other. 
 
 " To my house." 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 " To marry Bessie." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! I won't do that." 
 
 " Yes, you will, and that before the sun goes down, 
 and before you get out of my sight." 
 
 " I have no money to buy the license or to pay the 
 minister." 
 
 The other hotel man now spoke up and said, "I will 
 furnish the money. Come along and get the license. 
 You have got to marry that girl before you are one 
 day older." 
 
 And he did, and I was called in to tie the knot. 
 Shortly after they went away to live on some land 
 given to him by his father. She made him a good 
 wife, and he made her a passably good husband. IJe 
 
 19 
 
290 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 might have said to her one day when he came in to 
 dinner : 
 
 Dear Bessie, I am sorry now 
 
 That I was going away to leave you. 
 
 So to my fate I meekly bow, 
 And hope I nevermore may grieve you. 
 
 A Wife for Six Brooms. 
 
 About the most unique affair that I ever knew took 
 place in a village where I once lived. Though I had 
 no personal connection with the transaction I knew all 
 the parties. I can vouch for the substantial truthful- 
 ness for the statements here presented. 
 
 A young couple made up their minds to travel life's 
 pathway together. They were both very poor, and 
 neither of them had any wit to spare. 
 
 The young man made an apology for a livelihood by 
 manufacturing splint brooms and axe-handles. He 
 went to a Wesleyan Methodist minister to engage him 
 to do the splicing. At that time the hanns were pub- 
 lished instead of getting license in many cases. 
 
 After all the arrangements had been made as to time 
 and place the young man said : 
 
 "Mr. Blank, I have no money. Won't you take 
 your pay in brooms ? " 
 
 " 0, yes ; anything to accommodate you," said the 
 minister, who was a lively Irishman and fond of a joke. 
 
 " Well," said the other, " how many brooms will I 
 fetch you ? " 
 
 " About a half a dozen." 
 
 " Will that be enough ? " 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 291 
 
 " Yes : you bring along your girl and six good 
 brooms, and I will marry you just as good as I would 
 if you were the richest man in the county." 
 
 When the day appointed came, the people along the 
 leading street of the village witnessed a spectacle that 
 elicited not a little merriment. 
 
 There was the young prospective benedict with his 
 girl fondly clinging to one of his arms, and on the 
 other shoulder he carried half a dozen new splint 
 brooms of excellent design and finish. 
 
 He marched on with as much self-importance as a 
 coloured captain of militia, with as much pride as a 
 six-year-old boy with a new top, and as much solici- 
 tude as an old hen with one chicken. The tune that 
 they marched to would suit these words or something 
 
 like them, 
 
 Clear the track, for we are here, 
 
 Brooms and all, as you may see ; 
 We'll be married, never fear. 
 For I love her and she loves me. 
 
 And they did get married, and the minister got the 
 brooms. 
 
 Matrimonial Blunders. 
 
 There are a great many foolish marriages in this 
 world. Even sensible people in other things make 
 some strange mistakes in this important matter. If 
 men would exercise as much caution and common sense 
 in selecting a wife as they do in picking out a horse ; 
 and if women would be as particular in choosing a 
 husband as in picking out a dress or a bonnet, one 
 half of the bad matches would never have been made. 
 
292 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 Some marry without considering the importance of 
 such a step. They think it is a grand thing to have 
 some one they can call their own. 
 
 I knew a man once that married a woman the 
 second time that he ever saw her, and within a week 
 of the first time of seeing her. He wanted another and 
 could not get her, and to show her that he could get 
 a wife, he married wiUti less than a week's acquaint- 
 ance. He lived with his bride just seven days, and 
 then went away, and she never heard from him for 
 three years. He came back to her then, and stayed till 
 he died, which was a number of years after. Some 
 marry for the sake of a housekeeper, and others for 
 the sake of a home. Soine marry for money, and 
 others for social position. 
 
 But in all these motives for marrying, the question 
 of adaptation is generally overlooked, as when a man 
 wants some one to look after his home, and takes the 
 first eligible woman that comes in his way ; or when 
 a woman wants a home, and accepts the first man that 
 offers her one. 
 
 Now, they may or they may not be adapted to each 
 other. There may be incongruities of temperament, 
 differences in religious sentiment, educational biasses of 
 the mind, a want of harmony in tastes and pursuits, 
 and many other peculiarities in one or both that 
 render them unfit companions for each other. 
 
 And although two persons may not be adapted to 
 each other, that does not prove that they are not worthy 
 of good companions. It only shows that they have 
 not made the right selection, that is all. 
 
AT WEDDINGS. 293 
 
 God never intended that men and women should be 
 disposed of like cattle or horses, for the amount of work 
 that they could do, or for the convenience of the buyer 
 or the gain of the seller. 
 
 Mutual respect, confidence, esteem and affection 
 should draw people together. While I am no admirer 
 of lovesick lunies, either male or female, I do insist 
 upon it that the affinities that bring people together 
 into this closest of all human bonds should be some- 
 thing more refined, pure and exalted, than mere 
 material considerations. 
 
 I have known people who, while living with their 
 first spouses, were entirely happy and contented. The 
 man lost his wife and the woman her husband. The 
 two survivors married, and they quarrelled like cats 
 and dogs, making each other perfectly unhappy. They 
 could not agree to live together, and would not consent 
 to live apart. 
 
 My advice to all who are thinking of marrying is. 
 Be sure that you are adapted for each other, then go 
 ahead. 
 
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 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 
 
 SOMETIMES it seems to me that for twelve or 
 fourteen years past I have been, to a great ex- 
 tent, only a fit subject for the doctors to experiment 
 upon. For that length of time I have been suffering 
 more or less from some sort of disabilities. During 
 that time I have been in the hands of a number of 
 medical men in different localities where I have re- 
 sided. 
 
 And here I may say, whatever the doctors that I 
 am acquainted with may think of me, I have learned 
 to esteem them very highly indeed. There was a 
 time when I had but little love for doctors — not much 
 more than I had for lawyers. Then I looked upon 
 both of these professions as merely money - getting 
 institutions. 
 
 But an experience, such as but few men have passed 
 through, has given me entirely different views and 
 feelings in regard to the medical profession. My mind 
 is not nor never has been fully settled as to the utility 
 of lawyers in human society. A^hether, on the whole. 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 295 
 
 the world would not be better without them is, I think, 
 an open question. But the doctors could not be dis- 
 pensed with. 
 
 I have a very great respect for the medical men 
 that I have become familiar with, not only because of 
 the importance of their work in relieving suffering 
 and saving life ; but I respect them on account of the 
 warm sympathies, the sterling principles, and the 
 manly qualities that I have so frequently found in 
 them. 
 
 My own personal afflictions, and what the doctors 
 have done for me, will be the subject treated of in this 
 chapter. I know that sickness and pain are gloomy 
 subjects to speak or write about ; but my excuse for 
 presenting this part of my experiences is found in 
 their unusual character, and in the uncommon kind- 
 ness shown to me and mine by medical men, and by 
 the public generally. 
 
 I do not write to attract attention to myself, or to 
 elicit sympathy : I have already had my share of both ; 
 but a sense of justice to those who have reached out a 
 helping hand in the dark hours of severe trials and 
 afflictions impels me to speak of them, and in doing 
 so I must of necessity speak of myself. With this 
 explanation, I feel confident that the reader will 
 exonerate me from the charge of egotism on the one 
 hand, or childishness on the other. 
 
 When my time on the District expired, old Bishop 
 Richardson asked me to take Meaford, which was made 
 vacant by putting its pastor, Rev. R. Sanderson, as my 
 successor in the presiding-eldership. I had already 
 
296 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 been there for one term, besides a four years' residence 
 there while travelling the district. At the time my 
 name stood in the list of appointments for Palermo. 
 My whole ministerial life had been spent in the back 
 country. It required no little effort on my part to 
 sacrifice the chance for a better appointment than I 
 had ever been favoured with ; but the Bishop was 
 urgent, and I consented. I thought that I knew the 
 people of Meaford ; but in this I was a little mistaken. 
 I did not know quite all of them, as I learned with a 
 sad heart afterwards. When I came home from Con- 
 ference, I found opposition that was as unexpected as 
 it was unmerited. But I resolved to go on and do my 
 duty at all hazards, no matter what might come in the 
 way, the Lord helping me. 
 
 My colleague and I laid our plans for a year of hard 
 work. We intended to go over the entire circuit with 
 a series of revival meetings ; but those plans were 
 never pub into execution. I had just gone once over 
 the round of appointments when I was taken sick 
 with what seemed like a fever. After two or three 
 days, Dr. Maclean was called. On examination he 
 prescribed for fever ; but for several days there was 
 no change for the better. The remedies did not seem 
 to produce the desired effect. One day I called the 
 doctor's attention to a secret trouble that had been 
 slowly developing for years past, caused by an old 
 injury which had been received while breaking in an 
 unruly horse. As soon as the doctor saw the true 
 state of the case, he said, " You may rely upon it, 
 that thing is at the bottom of all your present diffi- 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 297 
 
 culty. Why did you not come to me about it sooner ? 
 However, I will do the best I can now to help you ; " 
 and the first thing he did was to perform a bit of 
 surgery. This gave at the time but a temporary 
 relief. For five months I was an invalid in the doc- 
 tor's hand. Some of the time I could fill my work 
 in part, and at other times I could do nothing. In the 
 meantime my colleague, Mr. Thomas Love, worked 
 with all his might to keep up the interest of the work 
 on the circuit. He held one series of revival meetings 
 alone, and there were a number of conversions. 
 
 As the summer advanced it became quite evident 
 that one of two things was inevitable. Either I must 
 submit to a very critical and tedious operation or give 
 up all hopes of a recovery. Believing as I do, that 
 men are in duty bound to live as long as they can in 
 this world, I concluded to take the chances of a dan- 
 gerous operation. 
 
 Dr. Mackintosh, of Meaford, and Dr. Hunt, of Clarks- 
 burg, were called to assist Dr. Maclean in the diffi- 
 cult performance. After three hours and a half of 
 intensely anxious work, their task was completed, and 
 their patient alive ; but my nervous system has never 
 fully rallied from the efi'ects of that three and a half 
 hours under the influence of chloroform. 
 
 I have never been able to exercise the same amount 
 of self-control that I could before, and I have not the 
 same power of endurance ; but still I have great 
 reason to be thankful to God for medical skill and 
 human kindness. Dr. Maclean could not have been 
 more kind and attentive if I had been his own brother. 
 
298 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 Through all my afflictions, both of myself and family, 
 during our seven years' residence in Meaford, he never 
 accepted a single cent as remuneration for his services. 
 Many an earnest prayer has gone up from my heart 
 for the safety and happiness of the doctor and his 
 family. Neither did the other two doctors exact any 
 pay for the assistance they gave. The people, too, 
 showed the greatest kindness to me and my family in 
 our time of trouble. May the Lord reward them for it, 
 and guide them to the home above where affliction 
 and suffering are things unheard of. 
 
 Removal to Kincardine. 
 
 At the end of the Conference year I was sent to Kin- 
 cardine. Three years of hard labour there, with 
 health only partially restored, finished up my work in 
 the active ranks of the itinerancy, My strength gave 
 way so that I was compelled to take a superannuated 
 relation to the Conference. 
 
 And yet three different medical men, after they had 
 examined me, each one in his own office, said they 
 could find no symptoms of organic disease or functional 
 derangement. The whole system seemed to be run 
 down. That was all that they could say. Dr. Secord, 
 of Kincardine, said, in his blunt, outspoken manner. 
 " You are like an old ox that is half starved through 
 the winter and then overworked in the spring." I 
 said, " Doctor, you have hit the truth, I think. But 
 the starving is not for lack of food to eat, but it is for 
 want of an appetite to eat it. I can hardly tell any 
 difference in the taste of articles of diet, and I never 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 299 
 
 get hungry. What I eat is forced down, for I know 
 that I must eat or die." The doctor prescribed for me 
 and in a few months I so far recovered as to be able 
 to do some work both by preaching and otherwise. 
 
 But other trials and difficulties were in store for us. 
 Our married daughter, Mrs. Prentice, had taken cold 
 while cleaning out a new house that they had built, 
 the plaster of which was only partially dry. The cold 
 culminated in consumption. She lingered along for 
 two years and then died, leaving behind her four 
 children. Her home was at Heathcote. Our other 
 daughter had been with her sister the most of the time 
 of her illness, or about a year and a half. When she 
 came home after the funeral, it was easy to see that 
 the same disease had marked her for another victim. 
 I said to my wife, " That new house is going to cost 
 us both of our daughters." And so it came out at last. 
 
 But the summer that our second daughter died I 
 passed through a strange experience. The first inti- 
 mation that I had that anything was going wrong was 
 a noise in my head that sounded like the dashing of 
 the waves of the lake against the shore, or like men 
 sawing with a cross-cut saw. After a few weeks I 
 found my head getting dizzy. This grew on me very 
 gradually, until I was unable to walk with steadi- 
 ness. Then, in a few days more, a weakness seemed 
 to seize upon every nerve and muscle of my body, and 
 I was completely helpless. For four weeks I was in 
 this condition. I was perfectly conscious, but I seemed 
 to be living in the region of the purely emotional. I 
 had but little control of my feelings. When any one 
 
300 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 came to see me it seemed to overcome me so that some- 
 times I would weep like a child and could not tell 
 what it was about. All this time I had not a particle 
 of pain. When any one would ask me how I was, my 
 answer generally was, " All right. A person that has 
 no pain and no condemnation surely should have no 
 complaints." My appetite was good ; food never tasted 
 better than it did at that time, though my wife had to 
 feed me like a child. The doctor told her from the 
 first that my case was hopeless, but in this he was 
 destined to be disappointed. At the end of the fourth 
 week I told the doctor one day that I was getting bet- 
 ter. At first he seemed incredulous, but after trying 
 two or three tests, he said : " You really are getting 
 better. I will come again in a day or two and see how 
 you are, as I do not want you to take one dose of 
 medicine more than is absolutely necessary. When he 
 came to see me again I was out in the garden under 
 the trees. When he came out to me he said ; " This 
 is a most wonderful thing ; you are really going to get 
 well." 
 
 I said to him : " Doctor, some of the people say that 
 it is in answer to prayer." 
 
 " Well, well," said he, " it is in answer to something, 
 but I think it is to be attributed to a good constitution 
 and a sober life." 
 
 But it was after I could get up and stand on my 
 feet that I found just how far down I had been. I 
 was greatly taken by surprise one day when I took up 
 a book to find that I could not read a single line. The 
 letters seemed to run all together. I tried to write on 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 301 
 
 a piece of paper, but I could not make a single letter. 
 I would find myself sitting at the table with a knife 
 and fork and teaspoon in my hand. To decide which 
 of them I wanted to use would cost me a greater 
 mental effort than it ever did to frame the outline of a 
 sermon when I was well. 
 
 While my strength returned our sick daughter grew 
 worse, and on the twenty-fifth of August, 1882, she 
 went home. The last words she ever spoke on earth 
 were, " Jesus has come to take me home." While writing 
 this, I have in my desk the breastplates taken from 
 two coffins. On the one is carved, "Philura Maud 
 Prentice, died on the 22nd of November, 1879, aged 30 
 years and nine months." On the other are the words, 
 ''Eliza Ann Hilts, died August 25th, 1882, aged 30 
 years." The bodies of these two sisters are sleeping, 
 one on the banks of the Georgian Bay, and the other 
 on the shores of Lake Huron, far apart. But their 
 spirits are among the shining ones along the banks of 
 the river of life. 
 
 Before leaving this part of my narrative I must 
 pause a little and bestow a just meed of praise on one 
 who has stood faithfully and courageously by me in 
 many a sore trial — one who, although she has her 
 foibles and weaknesses like other mortals, has on many 
 occasions exhibited the noblest characteristics of the 
 true wife and mother. During those dreary weeks 
 while I was lying helpless in one room, and our dying 
 daughter in another, my wife had the care of both of 
 us on her hands, and for seven weeks she never got 
 one night's rest in her bed. 
 
302 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 I used to look at her and wonder how she could be 
 so calm and composed under such an unusual strain 
 both of body and mind. To be thus taxed to the 
 utmost limit of human endurance and still remain so 
 completely self-possessed, might be looked for in one 
 whose heart was adamant and whose nerves were steel. 
 But it could hardly be expected from a tender mother 
 and a devoted, sympathising wife. But the Lord gives 
 strength and grace for every emergency to those who 
 trust in Him according to His word. I should have 
 mentioned that for the three years past I had one ap- 
 pointment in the town every Sabbath. While I was 
 laid up this time, Rev. Simon Terwilliger, who then 
 resided in the town, kindly took the work for me 
 until I got able to resume it. 
 
 Another Breakdown. 
 
 Under the successful treatment of Dr. Secord I so 
 far recovered that the next spring I undertook to as- 
 sist Rev. D. L. Scarrow in the work on the circuit. It 
 was arranged that I should take charge of the two east- 
 ern appointments, namely, Blackhorse and Kinlough. 
 
 I was to go out on the stage on Saturday, preach at 
 both places on Sunday, and go home again on the stage 
 any day that suited me. The proprietors of the stage 
 — Messrs. John Kaake and Thomas Stewart — kindly 
 allowed me to go out and in for single fare. Some 
 one of the congregation would generally take me from 
 one place to the other on the Sabbath. When this was 
 not convenient I walked. I followed this up during 
 the three summer months and I enjoyed it very much. 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 303 
 
 On the first Sabbath in September I was at my 
 work apparently all right. In the morning I preached 
 and led the class at Kinlough. Then Mr. John Nicols 
 took me to the afternoon appointment where I preached 
 and led the class again. Then I went home with Mr. 
 Anderson, where I stayed all night. On Monday fore- 
 noon I went to Mr. Joseph Armstrong's, and I was 
 around with him until the stage from Walkerton came 
 alonof. Then I started for home. I felt as well as 
 usual until we got within a mile of the little village of 
 Bervie, seven miles from home. All of a sudden a 
 sharp pain took me in the back of the neck just below 
 the base of the brain. At first I thought but little 
 about it, but in a few minutes it seemed to dart up 
 into my head, and the pain became most excruciating. 
 Then I turned sick and began to vomit as though I had 
 had a large emetic. 
 
 As we came into the village I told the driver that I 
 could not go home. He said if I would go on he 
 would drive through as fast as the horses could go. I 
 told him it was no use: I could not go on. He then asked 
 me which hotel I wished to go to. I told him not to 
 take me to either of them, saying, " I do not wish to 
 die at a tavern, if I can help it. But take me to Mr. 
 William Temple's; I think they will let me in." They 
 were a young couple that I had married a few years 
 before. When I came to the door, Mrs. Temple met me. 
 I told her that I was too sick to go home, and must 
 find a shelter somewhere. She helped me into the 
 house and said they would do all they could for me. 
 
 I asked Mrs. Temple to call William and get him 
 
304* EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 to go for Dr. Bradley, who lived in Bervie, and then 
 telegraph to her brother, Francis Sellery, to bring out 
 my wife. That was five o'clock on Monday afternoon, 
 and it is the last thing that I remember until Wednes- 
 day afternoon. It did seem to me that if all the pains 
 that I had ever suflfered were concentrated in one 
 sharp hour it could not equal the intensity of anguish 
 that I was enduring when I went into the house that 
 day. 
 
 On Wednesday evening, about seven o'clock, I 
 seemed to wake up out of sleep. It seemed to me 
 that I had only a short nap ; but I felt better. The 
 pain in my head was nearly all gone. I thought that 
 perhaps, I could get along without the doctor, as he 
 had not come yet. I had not opened my eyes yet, and, 
 supposing that I was still at Bervie, I was somewhat 
 surprised to hear my wife and another woman of Kin- 
 cardine talking in the next room. I thought, " How 
 is this that they are here so soon ? " Just then I 
 opened my eyes and, to my great astonishment, found 
 myself in my own bed at home ; but when or how I 
 got there I had not the slightest idea. I called my 
 wife, and asked her how long I had been home, and 
 how I came. She said, " You have been here about 
 and hour ; but don't you know how you came home ; 
 don't you remember when we came to the gate and 
 helped you out of the carriage, you said you could 
 walk alone, and you came into the house and lay 
 down on the bed." I had no remembrance of anything 
 of the kind. In fact, those fifty hours seem to have 
 gone and not left the faintest impression upon my 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 305 
 
 memory, as I cannot recall a single thing that occurred 
 during that time ; but those around me all this time 
 say that I was able to talk and answer any question 
 just as well as ever. They were all greatly surprised 
 when I told them that I could not remember what 
 occurred. 
 
 Some time after I got better, I saw Mr. Temple, and 
 he told me of some things that took place at his house. 
 He said, " My wife sent for me to the shop and re- 
 quested me to come at once and bring the doctor with 
 me. I found him on the street, and we ran to my 
 house as fast as we could. He looked at you for a 
 minute or two, and then said, " Mr. Hilts, you are a 
 very sick man." Mr. Temple said my reply was, 
 " Doctor, I did not send for you to tell me that, for I 
 knew all that before you came ; but can you not give 
 me something to ease this dreadful pain in my head?" 
 The doctor said he could, and started to go out. When 
 he got to the door, I called him back and said, 
 " Doctor, what is the matter with me ? " He said, " I 
 cannot tell just yet ; but it is a very severe attack of 
 some kind." Then I said, " Well, doctor, the trouble 
 is in the head ; I had some kind of brain trouble last 
 year, and Dr. Secord gave bromide of potassium." 
 
 Dr. Bradley was at a loss to know what to do. On 
 Tuesday morning he went to see Dr. Secord, and when 
 he told him about the case, he asked what he had 
 given, and what was the effect produced. On being 
 answered, he said to Dr. Bradley, " That old man ought 
 to have died last year, according to all the declarations 
 of medical science. You will see he will come through 
 30 
 
306 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 this. You will find him better when you go back." 
 And so it proved to be. 
 
 After I got home, Dr. Secord attended me. I re- 
 covered very slowly, and had to give up all kinds of 
 work for a while. In the meantime I moved from 
 Kincardine to Streetsville. But one word more about 
 Dr. Secord. He attended me and my family during the 
 nine years of our residence in that town, and when I 
 would ask him about his bill, he would turn off to 
 some other subject ; but before I left the place I told 
 him I would like to know how matters stood between 
 us. He said, " You owe me nothing ; I am working 
 my way to kingdom come by doctoring old ministers, 
 free of charge." I hope he may succeed in reaching 
 that place ; but I also hope that he may not find an- 
 other "old minister," or young one either, that will 
 draw as largely on his good nature and his science as 
 I have done. Success to him. 
 
 More Surgery. 
 
 During the summer and fall of 1885, I felt that 
 something was going wrong with me ; I grew weak 
 and lost in flesh; my appetite became poor and I 
 seemed to be running down generally. 
 
 Then a severe and racking cough set in. My wife 
 became uneasy, and sent for Dr. Ockley, of Streets- 
 ville. He came, and brought with him his son. Dr. 
 Ockley, jun., who was home on a visit to his parents at 
 the time. After examination, they said that the 
 trouble was caused by a pleuritic affection of the right 
 lung. In fact, the amount of aqueous fluid in the 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 307 
 
 pleura was so great that it prevented almost entirely 
 the action of the one lunj^, and pressed the other 
 against the heart so as to dangerously interfere with 
 its functions. 
 
 At first, it was decided to adopt the usual mode of 
 treatment by blistering ; but after taking into con- 
 sideration the progress that the disease had already 
 made, and the danger of a fatal termination unless 
 relief was speedily afforded, they proposed a quicker 
 method of treatment. To draw the Water off with in- 
 struments was a shorter and less painful way of 
 combating the disease than the old tedious and weak- 
 ening process of a series of blisters. This plan was 
 adopted, and it afforded relief in an hour, by removing 
 from the lung seven imperial pints of water. The 
 cure after this was rapid, and so far as can be a,s- 
 certained now after ten months, it is permanent. 
 
 Dr. Ockley, like the others, would make no charge, 
 only for medicine which was administered. 
 
 Critical Periods. 
 
 People talk sometimes about the critical periods in 
 life. We hear of one crisis here and another there as 
 we are passing from the cradle to the grave. I think 
 that I have gone through no less than four critical 
 periods in the last twelve years. It is about that 
 length of time since the affair in Meaford. And I was 
 told, after that was all over, that three or four times 
 during the operation the two younger doctors stepped 
 back and said : " There is no use in doing any more; 
 the man is dead." But Dr. Maclean thought other- 
 
308 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 wise, and so it proved. " But," said he, when he told 
 me, " four or five times we had you down to the death 
 line. There is not more than one in a thousand that 
 would have lived through it." 
 
 At the time that I lay so long helpless in Kincardine, 
 Dr. Secord told me, after I got better, that he had 
 never known of any one getting well who was in the 
 same condition that I had been in. When Dr. Bradley 
 was called to see me at Bervie, he said to Mrs. Temple : 
 " The old man will die at your house. He is too sick 
 to be moved." And at the time of my last attack the 
 doctors said it was very doubtful if I would have lived 
 a week longer if I had not been relieved. 
 
 So, kind reader, you see that when, at the beginning 
 of this chapter, I spoke of being a subject for the doc- 
 tors to practice on, I was not talking at random. I know 
 what it is to look my wife in the face and realize that 
 she will very likely be a widow within an hour. 
 When the chance of life is only as one in a thousand, 
 it seems to be well-nigh hopeless, but human nature 
 clings to that one chance till the last moment, and 
 faith proclaims that, with a Divine hand to lead us, 
 the one chance gives a safer and a stronger case than 
 ten thousand to one in our favour could offer us with- 
 out that hand. Who would not, in the time of trouble, 
 like to feel the leading of that hand. 
 
 Family Afflictions. 
 
 Besides my personal afflictions we have had our 
 share of family troubles. We know what it is to look 
 into the flushed and feverish faces of sick children 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORING. 309 
 
 and upon the cold and pallid features of dead ones. 
 We know just what it means to sit alone at the bed- 
 side of our sick, and watch in silence for the end that 
 seemed coming nearer as the weary hours passed 
 slowly on. To wait for daylight and the kind-hearted 
 doctor, as one listens to the low meanings of helpless 
 sufferers, is not a desirable task, but we have had to 
 do it. When we were stationed at Listowel our eldest 
 son came home from his work sick with typhoid fever. 
 This dangerous disease was very prevalent in the com- 
 munity ; people were dying on every side. Our boy 
 was very low. As the fever was running its course 
 the symptoms became very alarming. The people on 
 the circuit were afraid to come to the house. For 
 seven weeks not one person entered our house except 
 the doctor and one neighbour woman ; but with the 
 blessing of God upon his efforts. Dr. Pattison brought 
 our boy through. He lived and is alive yet. A word 
 about the woman who did what others feared to do. 
 She was an Englishwoman, only out a short time. 
 She used to come in and help my wife every day, as 
 she was not in good health at the time. When asked 
 if she was not afraid of catching the fever, she would 
 say : " I can't let any one suffer for want of help while 
 I can help them, and I don't believe that any one dies 
 any sooner for doing one's duty." We have often 
 spoken of Mrs. Edmond Binning. 
 
 Three to Care For. 
 
 The next winter after our boy was sick our eldest 
 girl was taken down with the same fever. Again 
 
310 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 people were afraid to come to the house. My wife 
 was sick and confined to the bed, too, and there was a 
 baby about a month old to be cared for. Our friend 
 Mrs. Binning was herself in poor health, but she did 
 what she could, and between us we managed to go on 
 in some way for three weeks, when I succeeded in 
 getting a girl to help in the work. All this time I 
 had my appointments to meet. With the help of 
 Bro. James Vines and his brother Richard, two good 
 local preachers, the work was fully done, and the 
 circuit sustained no loss because of my home troubles. 
 The next spring Mrs. Binning took diphtheria. My 
 wife returned to her the kindness she had shown to 
 us, in part and in kind. 
 
 A Dislocated Joint. 
 
 When we lived in Thornbury we kept a cow. My 
 wife always made her own butter when she could. 
 Like many other women, she is hard to please in that 
 important part of table supplies, and like others also 
 she is somewhat conceited about her own ability to 
 make a good article. I have never disputed with her 
 on that point, for I thought she was not very far 
 astray in her ideas about the matter. Our cow was 
 pasturing in a field a little distance from the house. 
 One morning my wife took the pail as usual and went 
 out to milk. In getting over some poles she stepped 
 on one that rolled, and put her ankle out of joint. 
 She was near the cow. After she met with the mishap 
 she concluded that she would get the milk anyway. 
 In going up to the cow she made another misstep, and 
 
DOCTORS AND DOCTORlNG. Sll 
 
 Sprung the ankle to its place again. However, she 
 did the milking, after which she hobbled to the house 
 in some .way. When I saw her face as she came in 
 1 was frightened. She was as pale as a dead person 
 and nearly wild with pain. She did not walk a step 
 for over a month. I took her to see Dr. Maclean in 
 Meaford. He said the ankle had been out of jointy 
 but had sprung back by a sudden twist that had been 
 a terrible strain on the tendons. That ankle was weak 
 and troublesome for several years. 
 
 A Broken Bone. 
 
 I was away on a three weeks' round of quarterly 
 meetings. During the last week I was conducting a 
 camp-meeting at Melville, on the Orangeville Circuit. 
 There was a good work done at the meeting, but to- 
 ward the last I became very uneasy about home. I 
 had heard nothing since I left, and I felt almost cer- 
 tain that something was wrong. 
 
 We closed the meeting about four in the afternoon. I 
 went to where my horse was and hitched up and started 
 for home. I drove twenty miles that evening. Next 
 morning I started and went twelve miles before break- 
 fast. In fact, I went home just as fast as my horse 
 would take me. When I arrived and drove up to 
 the door I heard my wife moaning before I got out 
 of the buggy. I went in, and on inquiring what was 
 the matter I found that she had got her collar-bone 
 broken the week before. It happened in this way : 
 She was milking the cow at the door. Some boys 
 came along snapping a whip. The cow got scared and 
 
31^ EXPERIEIfCES OF A BACICWOODS PJElEACHEll. 
 
 made a sudden jump. The woman could not get out 
 of the way soon enough. She fell over. The cow 
 stepped on her and bruised her face and broke the 
 collar-bone just at the top of the shoulder. Dr. Mac- 
 lean was called at the time, did all that could be 
 done, and left directions charging her not to use that 
 arm and to keep perfectly quiet. She had gone to 
 knitting and had got things displaced, and was afraid 
 to call the doctor again because she had disobeyed 
 him. 
 
 As soon as I found the condition of things I hurried 
 up street for the doctor. He was away in the country. 
 I went to a druggist and got the best liniment he 
 could make. The shoulder, when I looked at it, was 
 spotted purple and green. I applied the remedy and 
 in twenty minutes she found relief, and went off to 
 sleep, which she greatly needed, as she had but little 
 since she was hurt. I never knew what were the 
 ingredients of that liniment, but it was a first-class 
 thing. 
 
 When I asked why no word was sent to me, the 
 children said their mother would not allow them to 
 send to let me know for fear it would disturb me and 
 interfere with my work at the camp-meeting. I think 
 that I have said enough for the present about doctors 
 and doctoring. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 
 
 IT may be difficult to tell whether acts of kindness 
 or deeds of injury imprint themselves more 
 indelibly upon the memory, but it is not hard to settle 
 the question as to which of the two should exert 
 the greater influence on our actions. To cherish 
 the remembrance of past injuries so as to influence 
 our actions only tends to harden the heart and warp 
 the character ; so that in doing this we harm our- 
 selves and only make matters worse. We thereby 
 sustain a double injury — first, by the harmful act, and 
 secondly, by remembering the act in such a way as to 
 produce in us a sort of moral deformity. Thus we 
 magnify into a life-long injury what should have been 
 only a temporary grievance or a short-lived vexation. 
 We may remember those who have wilfully and spite- 
 fully injured us as we would remember a rock that had 
 once upset our boat — not with the intention of using 
 dynamite, but with a desire to keep at a safe distance 
 from it. 
 
 We must cherish feelings toward those who have 
 injured us that will prompt us to help them if we can, 
 
314 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 and do them good when we can ; but that does not 
 mean that we must hug them to our hearts. But the 
 grateful remembrance of acts of kindness has a soften- 
 ing influence upon the heart, and it exerts an elevating 
 tendency of character. There is nothing low or de- 
 grading in cherishing the remembrance of kindly deeds, 
 and there is nothing in the acknowledging of them 
 that is either dishonourable or humiliating ; but it is 
 only doing sinple justice to the performers of kindly 
 actions to let them know that the recipients of those 
 kindnesses are neither forgetful nor ungrateful. 
 
 With these views and for these reasons I shall, in 
 this chapter, speak of the many acts of kindness shown 
 to me and mine during the thirty years since I entered 
 the Christian ministry. Many of these acts v^ere un- 
 expected, and most of them were either entirely un- 
 merited or only partially deserved. 
 
 As I have intimated elsewhere, when I went on the 
 backwoods missions I had some means of my own, the 
 results of hard work by myself and wife; but we also 
 had a number of children to which three more were 
 added within a few years after commencing our itin- 
 erant life. The country at the time was new, the 
 people were mostly poor, and the Church members 
 were few. Every family had their own difficulties to 
 grapple with, and the minister had to take his full 
 share of the burdens that always settle down on the 
 shoulders of pioneers ; and the lengthened period that 
 I had to face these difficulties makes my case an ex- 
 ceptional one. 
 
 Other men were sent into the new parts of the work. 
 
EEMEMBERED KINDNESS. 315 
 
 They would be left there a few years, and then be 
 brought out to the front. But for some reason I was 
 kept there from first to last. There was not another 
 instance in the Church that I belonged to where a man 
 was kept on one District through twenty-two years of 
 active service, and that District the hardest one in the 
 Connexion, in more ways than one. If there was such 
 another case, I never heard of it. 
 
 After our own means were gone, if it had not been 
 for the kindness shown to us from time to time by 
 church members and others, we should have suffered 
 more than we did. I might almost as well undertake 
 to number the hairs left on my head as to recount all 
 the kindly deeds done to us. I shall have to content 
 myself by giving a few details. 
 
 A Generous Irishman. 
 
 I use the term Irishman simply to indicate a man 
 who came from Ireland. The man I speak of was a 
 Protestant, an Orangeman, and a Methodist local 
 preacher. At the time I speak of he resided in the 
 township of Howick, and was a member of the Official 
 Board on the Teeswater mission, on which I was 
 stationed. His name was William Ekins. 
 
 When our first Quarterly Meeting came on he was 
 present at the business meeting on Saturday. That 
 was the year of the hard summer, that the older 
 people still talk about in the back townships when the 
 Government had to send provisions to hundreds of 
 families to keep them from starvation. Not being a 
 taxpayer, I was not in a position to ask for help in 
 
316 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 that way. The result was that we were one month 
 without a bit of bread in the house. We had a very 
 little johnny cake. But we had plenty of greens, con- 
 sisting of cooked *' cow cabbage." We also had a good 
 supply of speckled trout, when we could catch them, 
 and butter was to be had at reasonable figures. 
 
 Mr. Ekins came to our place for dinner. Two of 
 our children were bad with cholera-infantum, induced, 
 as was supposed, by the diet they were forced to live 
 on. My friend brought with him one-half of a good 
 sized veal, which he carried on horseback a longdistance. 
 He said when he came in with it, " I heard that you 
 were trying to live on cattle feed, so I thought I would 
 bring you a piece of one of them. I see that these 
 little fellows of yours don't take to that sort of diet 
 very readily." 
 
 On Monday morning, before he started, he said to 
 me, " I do not see 'how you are to get along with all 
 these children without milk. We have more cows 
 than we need, and you may just as well have one of 
 them as not ; send the two boys home with me, and I 
 will send a cow, and a boy to help drive it home, 
 to-morrow." We took his offer without much pressing. 
 The cow was brought and proved to be a good one. I 
 offered to pay him for her, but he would take nothing, 
 saying that when he gave a thing he never would 
 take pay for it. We kept that cow for five or six 
 years, and then she got poisoned in some way and 
 died. 
 
remembered kindness. 317 
 
 Our First Surprise Party. 
 
 We had been presented with donations at different 
 places and in various ways. But the first real genuine 
 " surprise party " that paid us a visit was in Meaford. 
 We were living there, but my work was, at the time, 
 on the District as Presiding Elder. 
 
 One evening I was sitting quietly by the stove 
 planning a new round of quarterly meetings, when 
 a rap came to the door. On opening it, in answer 
 to the call, an old minister of the New Connexion 
 Methodists came in. His name was Hamilton, and he 
 lived only a few doors from where I did. The old 
 man sat down, and made himself quite at home — 
 a thing he had never done before. We sat and 
 talked for an hour or more. At last a loud rap at the 
 front door called me up again. As I was going to the 
 door Mr. Hamilton said, very soberly, "Don't be 
 frightened, Brother Hilts ; I am sure no harm is in- 
 tended." I could not understand what he meant until 
 I opened the door and looked out. Then I began to 
 see through the old man's little ruse. The yard was 
 full of people. They made a simultaneous rnsh for 
 the front and side doors, and in less than two minutes 
 the house was full of as merry a talking, laughing and 
 stamping multitude as ever carried their good nature 
 and their baskets into a quiet, inofiensive man's dwell- 
 ing. And for the next hour or two 
 
 It was hard to conjecture what they were about, 
 
 For upstairs, and downstairs, and indoor and out, 
 
 Their hands and their feet and their tongues were all going, 
 
 And on© must b© smart to know what they were doing. 
 
318 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 But after awhile, when things quieted down, 
 They declared they had come from all parts of the townj 
 To present a small gift to the preacher and wife, 
 And to wish them success in the journey of life. 
 
 The gift was about forty dollars in cash, and any 
 amount of good wishes, and some other things, all of 
 which were highly appreciated, not more for the value 
 of the gifts than for the generous, kindly spirit in 
 which they were presented. 
 
 My friends in Meaford became very well posted in 
 the matter of getting up these surprises to the minis- 
 ters. I think I was subjected to four or five of them 
 myself, but I managed to live through all of them, 
 and never once said, " Don't do it again." I was present 
 at one that was given to Brother Watts. He was 
 taken completely by surprise. I never saw Watts so 
 much confused before or since. 
 
 A Thoughtful Friend. 
 
 The question has sometimes been asked, " Does the 
 Lord influence the kindly deeds of unconverted people ?" 
 I believe that He does. He tries to get men to do right : 
 in doing so He touches the noblest impulses of the 
 heart, and the loftiest faculties of the mind. He does 
 not attempt to prompt a man to virtuous action by 
 stimulating the lowest and meanest of his passions. 
 These He holds in check while, through the potency of 
 the Holy Spirit acting upon the higher nature of the 
 man, God lifts him out of darkness into light, and 
 places him on a higher plane of action than he occupied 
 before. But where am I drifting to ? 
 
REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 319 
 
 At the commencement of my long affliction in Mea- 
 ford, of which mention is made elsewhere, a little 
 occurrence took place which I will venture to relate. 
 
 I had only been on the circuit one month and no 
 returns had yet come in. Our supplies at the time 
 were very limited and my purse was nearly empty. I 
 had been worried some about the matter. One day 
 Mr. John Raymond called to see me. After sitting a 
 short time he got up to go. Then turning to me he 
 said : 
 
 " You are laid up. You have had no time to gather 
 supplies since Conference. Perhaps a little help now 
 would be worth as much to you as it would be at any 
 time in the year." With this he handed me a sum of 
 money. I would never have believed that the recep- 
 tion of a few dollars could make so sudden a change 
 in a person's feelings and prospects, if I had not ex- 
 perienced it. I received it, not only as a kind and 
 thoughtful act on the part of my friend, but I took 
 it as coming from the Lord. I looked upon it as a 
 pledge that, whether my sickness was of a short or 
 long duration, the supplies would be forthcoming. 
 And so it was. Though for five months, to a great ex- 
 tent, I was disabled, yet we were as fully and to all 
 appearance as cheerfully provided for as if I was do- 
 ing all that needed to be done. Mr. Raymond was not 
 a professor of religion. His wife, however, was a 
 member of the Church, 
 
320 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 A Pleasant Send-Off. 
 
 There is no time, it seems to me, when friends are , 
 more highly valued than when we are about to be 
 separated from them. I found this to be the case 
 when I was ordered by the Church authorities to leave 
 Meaford. 
 
 I had lived in that beautiful town for seven years 
 out of the last ten. According to the discipline and 
 usage of the Church I could have stayed longer, but 
 the Stationing Committee, listening to the few instead 
 of the many, resolved to send me to another place. In 
 doing this they acted in opposition to a petition bear- 
 ing nearly three hundred signatures of members and 
 adherents living on the circuit. But this is an un- 
 pleasant theme, and I do not like to dwell upon it. 
 
 When it was decided that I was to go away to 
 another place, a meeting was called to be held in the 
 church. This was largely attended by a mixed com- 
 pany, representing nearly every church in the town. 
 After a number of short speeches from those who 
 wished to speak, a purse containing sixty dollars was 
 handed to me to pay, as they said, my moving ex- 
 penses. 
 
 This was the third special favour bestowed on me by 
 the friends in that community, during that year of 
 heavy burdens and severe afflictions. 
 
 When I look back to that year, it appears to me 
 like an April day, when sunshine and shadows chase 
 each other over the fields. Sometimes the shadows 
 deepened until the light seemed almost gone, and theii 
 
REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 321 
 
 the sunshine would make things bright and cheerful 
 again. I should have said that the Conference met in 
 Meaford that year, and the petition above referred to 
 was presented by officials of the church in person. I 
 may say, in respect to the town of Meaford, that if all 
 gifts and donations were to be added to medical at- 
 tendance, for which no charge was made, the sum total 
 could not be less that $400. 
 
 What No One Expected. 
 
 When we went to Thornbury to live, the prospects 
 were anything but encouraging. The church that I 
 represented was weak in the village, and by no means 
 strong in the country appointments. We went there 
 as a sort of forlorn hope to try to rally a failing cause, 
 but I was encouraged by the fact that there were a 
 few grand men on the mission. When the Financial 
 Committee met they promised me four hundred dollars 
 and a house, the house-rent to be raised by a tea- 
 meeting, and the surplus, if any, to be given as a 
 donation. After the amount was voted, the next 
 question was, Where is it to come from ? This was 
 met by a proposal to see how much could be pledged 
 there and then. In response to this John Loree put 
 down S30 ; his brother William, $20 ; Dean Carscadden, 
 $20; Peter Stoutenburgh, $20 ; James Maguire, $12 ; 
 William Housten, $15 ; Jesse Gould, $15 ; Nelson Hurd, 
 $12. When they added these sums together they 
 found that they had almost three-fifths of the amount 
 they needed, besides the grant from the Mission Fund. 
 But these men made up nearly the whole male mem- 
 
 21 
 
322 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 bership on the mission. But we were all encouraged 
 to do the best we could. During the year we had two 
 revivals. That was the first time in my ministry that 
 I received all that was voted me. But that year I got 
 every cent promised. To be sure it was a small salary 
 on which to support a family of seven. But we man- 
 aged to get through. 
 
 On Christmas Day they had their tea-meeting. 
 They got it up on the old-fashioned plan of collecting 
 provisions and cooking them, and then paying for the 
 privilege of eating them. When it was over and we 
 came to count results, between a surplus of edibles 
 collected and not cooked and money on hand, it 
 amounted to the nice sum of $130. This was $70 
 more than was needed to pay house-rent. 
 
 Who would not work, and suffer too, if need be, for 
 such a people ? During my three years on that charge 
 I did a good deal of hard work. But I was encour- 
 aged by much kindness shown me by the people. 
 Brother Joseph Parkinson, who came to the mission 
 during my second year, always seemed to know just 
 what was needed and to bring it just when it was 
 needed. Sister Wilson, of Heathcote, had a quiet and 
 unpretentious way of showing kindness that was as 
 amusing as it was thoughtful. She would never ask 
 any questions, but watch her chance, and when no one 
 was looking, slip a piece of meat, a roll of butter, a 
 pound of yarn, or something else of use in a family 
 under the seat of the buggy or cutter. For many 
 years her house was the home of the preachers at the 
 Heathcote appointment. I became so well acquainted 
 
REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 323 
 
 with that good sister's way of doing that I always 
 looked under the seat when I got home, if I had been 
 at her place. She is in glory now. 
 
 William James Kennedy and Joseph Bell, two young 
 men who were not then professors of religion, spent 
 one of the stormiest days of winter in gathering up 
 something for the preacher. They came to our house 
 in a blinding snowstorm, with a load of supplies, just 
 when we had cut the last loaf of bread and cooked 
 the last piece of meat. Mr. Adam Goodfellow and his 
 wife, although they were Presbyterians, showed me a 
 great deal of kindness. Mrs. B. J. Marsh used to come 
 and pay her dividend herself, if for any cause the 
 steward failed to call on her for it. 
 
 No one knows how to appreciate actions of this 
 kind better than- the itinerant in the new country, 
 where a little help at the right time does so much to 
 strengthen and encourage him in his work. By 
 dwelling so long on one circuit, I find that I am 
 using up my paper faster than I am exhausting my 
 subject. I fear I shall be obliged, for want of space, to 
 pass unmentioned very many kindly acts that would 
 be worthy of notice ; but they are recorded on more 
 enduring pages than those of my little book. 
 
 It was while I was travelling the District that I 
 realized fully w^hat Christian hospitality really means. 
 Five days out of six the year round, I was away from 
 my own home, and the most of this time I was depend- 
 ent for entertainment for myself and horse upon the 
 members and friends of the Church ; but in all the 
 homes I visited during these four years, I was not 
 
324 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 once made to feel that I was' not welcome. I think I 
 realized a literal fulfilment of our Lord's promise of 
 a hundred homes for one that is relinquished in His 
 service. I never counted them, but I am confident 
 that I had more than a hundred homes on the Huron 
 District. 
 
 I will find room for the names of the more promi- 
 nent owners of these homes, and I am sorry that I 
 cannot make room for all. Commencing with Eramosa 
 Circuit, the first name that occurs to me is Rev. F. 
 M. Smith and family ; then come J. Caspell, E. Loree, 
 Wm. Hodgkinson, J. Copland, Geo. Copland, Bro. Rud- 
 dell, J. Leslie, Jno. Greasley, B. Rossel, two brothers 
 Morris and old Father Scarrow. 
 
 Garafraxa Circuit — Morris Cook, W. Neal, Jas. Loree, 
 Wm. Woods, Wm. Cotton, Jno. Cowan, H. Scarrow, 
 Jno. Mitchel, Rev. R. L. Tindall, Mrs. D. Kyle, Mrs. 
 Burns, W. Felker, J. Felker, A Felker, A. Ferrier, D. 
 Ferrier, Jas. Kennedy and R. Eviligh. 
 
 Orangeville — James Johnston, Jas. Putellow, G. 
 Moot, A. Hughson, Jas. Hughson, Wm. Hall, A. Wilcox, 
 G. Wilcox, Rev. R. Large, M. Bacon, Wm. Bacon, Wm. 
 Morris, Jas. McEcknie and Bro. Shields. 
 
 Horning's Mills— Mr. Silk, Wm. Blair, Thompson 
 Brothers, Mrs. Watts, Mr. Hulbert, Bro. Scruten, John 
 Silk, G. Broderick, Mr. Tupling and Mr. Siddell. 
 
 Creemore — Jno. Shields, Jas. Connor, Mr. Sinclair, 
 Rev. W. M. Pomeroy, Mr. Casey, and others whose 
 names I have forgotten. 
 
 Collingwood Circuit — Rev. J. F. Durkee, Jos. Parkin- 
 son, D. Carscadden, Jos. Conn, Jesse Gould, P. Stouten- 
 
REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 325 
 
 burgh, Mr. Wagg, Wm. Housten, Wm. Kennedy, A. 
 Goodfellow, Jno. Irwin, T. Carefoot, G. Wilson, R. 
 Phillips, L. Prentice, J. Prentice, N. Devens, Jno. 
 Conn, Mrs. Perrett. 
 
 Meaford South — R. Gilray, Jas. Thurston, Wm. 
 Purdy, R. M'L. Purdy, Jas. Curry, R. Hopkins, Rev. 
 C. Taylor, Rev. J. Foster, J. Cook, Geo. Reid and A. 
 Gould. 
 
 Meaford North — Jos. Brigcjs, Wm. Raven, S. L. Wil- 
 cox, N. Lefler, S. Kirvin, E. Kerr, H. Kerr, Jas. Lemon, 
 and Rev. R. Sanderson. My home being in Mea- 
 ford, I did not require the hospitalities of the people 
 in town ; their kindness was shown in other ways. 
 
 Osprey Mission — Ben Smith, Mr. Ferguson, Mr. Gor- 
 don, Mr. Little, Jas. Alister, Rev. A. Cooper and Rev. 
 T. Reid. 
 
 Mount Forest — Rev. R. Carson, Jno. Boos, Thos. 
 Reid, A. Bissell, E. Boosley, T. Smith, Mrs. Buchan, 
 Mr. Shilton, H. Bennett, Jno. Dixon, Jos. Dickson, 
 Jno. Dickson and G. Stinson. 
 
 Listowel — Rev. John W. Moore, G. Maynard, Thos. 
 Maynard, M. Tremain, H. Barber, Rev. Jas. Vines, 
 R. Vines, H. Leopard, Wm. Kellington, Chas. Cousens, 
 H. Cousens, C. Switzer, J. Rossell, D. Collins, C. Zeron. 
 
 Teeswater — Rev. W. F. Ferrier, P. Brown, G. Parr, 
 R. Parr, Thos. Fairbairn, R. Dowse, R. Copland, R. 
 Barber, Jas. Williamson, Wm. Cross, J. Snider, J. Gil- 
 roy, #r. Crowsten, Jas. Crowsten, Wm. Bradley, G. 
 McKibbon. 
 
 Invermay — J. W. Sanderson. J. W. Dunn, S. Cum- 
 mer, J. Cummer, B. Talbot, Wm. Scarrow, Jas. Scarrow, 
 
326 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 Wm. Carry, D. Clemens, Thos. Clemens, A. Clemens, S. 
 Winch, S. Bricker, R. Zimmerman and Thos. Thomp- 
 son. 
 
 Kincardine— -Eev. G. Clark, E. Fisher, S. Fisher, Jas. 
 Ballantine, R, Hunter, Henry Daniels, Thos. Robinson, 
 A. Robinson, J. Browning, Jos. Shier, J. Shier, W. 
 Arnold, Jno. Harrison, N. Pennell, Mr. Cole and Jno. 
 Hodgins. 
 
 Hanover — Rev. J. Lynch, Wm. Martin, G. Harrison, 
 J. W. Vickers, R. Reid, Mr. Rea, Mr. Ruraley, U. Curtis, 
 J. Hillis, Dr. Halstead, Sam. Hillis and J. Wilson. 
 
 This long list of names includes the families with 
 whom I took up my abode more or less during my 
 District work. When I commenced my term, the Rev. 
 H. Dockham said to me, " If you try to play the 
 pastor over all that large District, you will be played 
 out before your four years are past." Although I 
 visited many families not named here, I never felt 
 that I was doing any more than the duties of the 
 office demanded. I received many acts of kindness 
 both from the people and ministerial brethren during 
 these four years. These were crowned by the presen- 
 tation of a " purse " at conference at the conclusion of 
 the term. 
 
 Help When Needed. 
 
 In the town of Kincardine our circumstances at one 
 time were very trying. I was lying entirely helpless. 
 For four weeks I could not so much as feed myself or 
 lift my head off the pillow, and the last one of our 
 daughters lay in another room dying with consump- 
 
REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 327 
 
 tion. She had been an invalid for nearly three years, 
 and the end was now coming very near. I had, some 
 time before, bought a little home, and had invested in 
 it every dollar that I could muster. Now, when the 
 extra expenses of sickness and death had to be met, 
 we were very ill prepared to do so. When the people 
 of the town learned of our sore affliction there seemed 
 to be a disposition on the part of all classes, irrespec- 
 tive of creed or party, to render assistance. 
 
 The Presbyterians and Canada Methodists, following 
 the examples of their respective ministers — the Rev. 
 J. L. Murray and Rev. A. Andrews — came forward with 
 their sympathy and help. Others, prompted by their 
 own generous impulses, did their share in trying to 
 lighten our heavy burdens. But I cannot speak of the 
 many acts of kindness shown us by individuals for 
 want of space. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Aylesworth, the presiding elder, came to 
 the Quarterly Meeting, and when he saw how we were 
 situated he of his own accord sent a short note to the 
 Canada Christian Advocate, stating our case and ask- 
 ing the prayers of the Church. I suppose the praying 
 was done, but that was not all that was done. A num- 
 ber of letters came to hand, containing sums ranging 
 from one to fifteen dollars. One letter came from near 
 Ottawa from a lady that I had never heard of. It 
 contained a contribution of two sisters-in-law who 
 saw the note in the paper. I am sorry that I cannot 
 recall their names. Another letter came from a Sab- 
 bath-school in the township of Euphrasia, at a place 
 where I formerly preached. The superintendent, Mr. 
 
S28 EXPERIENCES OlF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 Milson, told the school about our trouble and took up 
 a collection amounting to thirteen dollars. From every 
 circuit on the Huron District, except two or three, 
 more or less money came, and also from people on 
 other Districts. One letter, containing a bill of paper 
 money, came from Eugenia Falls, from a sickly man 
 with a large family and not very much means. I 
 valued that contribution very highly, knowing as I did 
 the sacrifice that it required on the part of the gener- 
 ous donor to send even a small amount. I estimated 
 that gift not by the amount that it was worth to the 
 receiver, but by what I knew it cost the sender. 
 
 A Christmas Box. 
 
 At Christmas time one evening, while I was away 
 from home, two men came to our door and handed my 
 wife a letter. When I opened it I found that it con- 
 tained a sum of money and a note asking me to accept 
 a " Christmas box " from a few of my friends in the 
 Presbyterian congregation worshipping in Knox's 
 Church, Kincardine. Two or three days after Christ- 
 mas, as I was walking down the street, Mr. John Mc- 
 Leod, a merchant and a Presbyterian, called me into 
 his store and presented me with an overcoat worth 
 fourteen dollars. 
 
 Another Surprise. 
 
 Then in February of that same winter came the 
 greatest surprise of all. One day the Bruce Reporter 
 was left at our house. In glancing over it I saw a 
 notice to the effect that on a certain evening a lecture 
 
REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 329 
 
 would be given in the Town Hall, at which time the 
 friends of Mr. Hilts would present him with an address 
 and a purse. I could hardly believe my eyes, as that 
 was the first intimation I received that anything of 
 the kind was in contemplation. When I read the 
 extract over to my wife, she said she had heard some- 
 thing about a surprise, but she knew but little about 
 it. When the time came the Rev. William Henderson 
 gave an interesting lecture on the Holy Land to a fair 
 audience. Mr. Baird, then reeve, afterwards mayor, 
 of the town, filled the chair. After the lecture a 
 purse containing one hundred and sixty-eight dollars 
 was presented to me by Mr. E. Leslie, who was a 
 Canada Methodist ; and Mr. Paul Mclnnis, a Presby- 
 terian, read the following address : — 
 
 Complimentary Address 
 
 Presented to Rev. J. H. Hilts by a number of Gh^tian 
 friends and well-wishers. 
 
 Rev. and Dear Sir, — It is with pleasure we em- 
 brace the present opportunity of expressing to you the 
 high esteem in which you are held by ourselves and 
 the community generally. You have been amongst us 
 for a number of years, making your presence felt in a 
 social, municipal and ministerial character, and in all 
 these respects you have won the profound regard and 
 confidence of your fellow-citizens of whatever party or 
 creed. Your manly independence as a thinker and 
 speaker, your fearless denunciation of popular wrongs, 
 your kindly consideration and sympathy for those in 
 
330 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 distress, and your uniform readiness to rise above nar- 
 row sectarianism, and to assist your brethren of every 
 denomination in the work of our common Lord, have 
 greatly endeared you to Christians of every name and 
 have secured for you a place in the hearts of the gen- 
 eral public to which few can expect to attain. As a 
 token of the estimation in which you are held, you 
 will please accept this purse, which is the spontaneous 
 gift of a number of your fellow-citizens who desire to 
 make this public recognition of their sense of your 
 personal worth, and which but very feebly expresses 
 their admiration for your many excellences of head 
 and heart. Signed on behalf of contributing friends. 
 
 Paul McInnis. 
 
 Edward Leslie.* 
 Kincardine, Feb. 13th, 1883. 
 
 It is not egotism that prompts me to insert this 
 address. It is too late in life for me to be much 
 affected by what people may think or say about me, so 
 that I am not seeking for notoriety. I never was a 
 hunter after popularity. But I feel that justice to 
 others warrants the publication of the address in this 
 chapter of remembered kindness. 
 
 The article, I am informed, was written by Rev. J. 
 L. Murray, a Presbyterian minister, and the money 
 was collected by men outside of my own denomination. 
 The circumstance goes to show that our religion can 
 carry people over the dividing lines of denominational 
 differences and cause them to recognize a brother wher- 
 ever they find a Christian. 
 
 * Mr. Leslie is now the Mayor. 
 
REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 331 
 
 A Birthday Present. 
 
 The day that I was sixty years old some of the 
 members of the Ontario Conference of the late M. E. 
 Church, along with other friends, presented me with a 
 purse containing some $50, as a birthday gift. This 
 was a very unexpected expression of brotherly kind- 
 ness and Christian generosity, which afforded me much 
 pleasure, and bound me still closer to my brethern of 
 the Conference. 
 
 A Reluctant Removal. 
 
 In the spring of 1884 we left Kincardine and came 
 to Streetsville. I very much regretted that I had to 
 leave that town, where so many pleasant associations 
 had been formed. But to all appearance my health 
 was permanently broken up. My family thought that 
 we could better our condition by making the change. 
 When we came to this place we found ourselves once 
 more among strangers. With the exception of two of 
 our sons, who were employed here at the time, we only 
 knew the Scruten family, with whom I had been 
 acquainted at Horning's Mills, and Mrs. Dr. Thom, 
 whom we had known as a young girl years ago in the 
 township of Garafraxa. 
 
 In the fall of 1885 I had a very severe affliction, 
 elsewhere spoken of. When I found myself compelled 
 to give up, and take to my bed, I felt very much dis- 
 heartened. I said to my wife, as she was fixing a place 
 for me to lie down : " I am afraid that we are in for a 
 hard time. The boys are gone and we are here among 
 
332 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 strangers. If we were in the back counties among our 
 many friends, I would feel safer and better." 
 
 Her answer was, " We will not suffer here any more 
 than we would anywhere else." 
 
 The boys had to leave to find employment, the busi- 
 ness with which they had been connected having been 
 discontinued. Well, it turned out as my wife said. 
 When the doctor came to see me, after an examination 
 he asked why he had not been called sooner. 
 
 I told him that I hesitated to send for him because 
 I could not see how I was to pay him for his trouble. 
 He said : " I am afraid you have put it off too long. 
 But pay or no pay, I shall do the best I can for you." 
 And he did as he said. Dr. Ockley is spoken of in 
 another chapter. 
 
 After an absence from the prayer-meeting for ten 
 weeks, the first time that I went I met with a great 
 surprise. After the meeting was ended, the pastor, 
 Rev. G. M. Brown, invited me to the platform, and 
 after a few words of explanation, he handed me an 
 envelope which, he said, contained some contributions 
 by friends on the circuit to help us bear the financial 
 part of our recent afflictions. 
 
 When I got home and opened the envelope, I found 
 the amount in it to be $80. To this over $20 was 
 added by individuals who came in person with their 
 Christian, kindly help. 
 
 I have been told the wife of the pastor, with Mrs. J. 
 Gradon, Mrs. Banin, and the junior minister. Rev. R. 
 P. Bowles, had something to do with getting this 
 timely help for us. Among those others may be 
 
REMEMBERED KINDNESS. 333 
 
 named Mr. G. Anderson, Mr. A. Sibbald, Mr. Redman, 
 Mr. Dracas, Mrs. Hardy, and Rev. J. A. Murray, of 
 Streets ville, and Mr. Wm. Falconer, and Mr. and Mrs. 
 H. Shaver, of Cooksville Circuit. Before passing on, 
 it is only right to say that we have received many 
 acts of kindness from Mrs. and Miss Franklin, also 
 from Barber Brothers, of Toronto township. 
 
 Owen Sound Conference. 
 
 With one more instance I must close this chapter. 
 The first Conference of the united Church that I at- 
 tended was held in the town of Owen Sound in 1885. 
 At that session I asked for permission to commute my 
 claim on the Superannuation Fund. The reason that 
 I wished to do so was because of the difficulty I found 
 in meeting the requirements of the " Basis of Union " 
 in the matter of "levelling up." I stated my case fully 
 and without reserve to my brethren. The request was 
 granted, but I was strongly advised not to commute. 
 
 As I went out on the street at the rising of Confer- 
 ence, I was accosted by the mayor of the town, Mr. 
 Rutherford. He said : 
 
 I was pleased with your straightforward manner 
 of presenting your case. What I want to know is this : 
 Will you accept some help if it is offered by friends 
 who would like to assist you ? " 
 
 I said to him, " I am not above receiving a favour 
 when it is kindly offered, nor am I slow to confer a 
 favour when in my power to do so." 
 
 I heard no more about it until the last day of Con- 
 ference. Then I was told that some parties outside 
 
384 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 wished to see me. When I went out I met Mr. Ruth- 
 erford, Mr. J. W. Vickers, from Durham, and Rev. J. 
 W. Sanderson. They handed me a roll of bills amount- 
 ing to $60. 
 
 That met my pressing demands at the time, and 
 somehow, it seems to me that a blessing followed that 
 gift, as I have got along to the present without com- 
 muting, and with no very serious difficulty. 
 

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 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 LIFE ON THE RAIL. 
 
 IT is not the fence-rail, nor the bed-rail, nor the 
 stair-rail that is the subject of this chapter, but 
 I speak of a longer and stronger rail than any of 
 these. It is the iron or steel rail on which the 
 steam-horse draws his ponderous load. That load 
 is sometimes dead and sometimes livinof freiofht. It 
 is of the latter kind that I have a few thoughts to 
 offer. 
 
 Dr. Thomas Dick said, some sixty years ago, " that 
 the time would come when the inhabitants of a village 
 could be carried over the hills and valleys at the rate 
 of twenty miles an hour. But people called him 
 daft; yet he was right after all, only his figures were 
 far too low. 
 
 Shortly after the trains began to run on the Great 
 Western Railway, a neighbour of mine, Jacob Kerr, of 
 Caistor, went to Hamilton, and for the first time in his 
 life saw a train in motion. When I asked him what 
 it looked like, he said : "I can compare it to nothing 
 
336 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 that I have seen; but if you can imagine all the houses 
 on one side of a village street to be chasing each other, 
 about as fast as a horse can run, you will get an idea 
 of what a train in motion is like." 
 
 Now every one is familiar with the sight of moving 
 trains ; even the cattle and horses in the fields have 
 become so accustomed to the rattle of the cars and the 
 screaming of the engines that they pay but little 
 attention to them. In fact, their familiarity has 
 brought contempt that has cost the life of many a 
 farmer's horse or cow. Dr. Dick's prediction has be- 
 come an everyday fact. There is not a day that passes, 
 except the Sabbath, from the beginning of the year to 
 the end of the year, that there are not people enough 
 living in the cars to fill a large city. This is what I 
 meant by " life on the rail." 
 
 I know of no situation in which a student of human 
 nature has a better chance to gain an insight into the 
 great variety there is in people's proclivities than is 
 afibrded in a railway train filled with passengers. 
 There everybody is away from home, and yet every- 
 body is trying to feel perfectly at home. There conven- 
 tionalities are laid aside, and people indulge in a freedom 
 of social intercourse that would not be tolerated in 
 other places. The car is the greatest leveller that we 
 find in modern society, unless it be a town or village 
 fire. That brings people together in a way that is 
 sometimes laughable. 
 
 In a town where I once lived one day about ten 
 o'clock in the morning the fire-bell sent its warning 
 peals ringing through the place until every home 
 
LIFE ON THE RAIL. 837 
 
 was visited by its echoes. The fire was in a large 
 building on the principal street. In a few minutes 
 hundreds of people were there — men, women and 
 children. One man came running out of his shop and 
 another from his store. One woman, who was putting 
 clothes on the line, ran to the fire with a clothes-pin in 
 her hand. Another woman was dusting the parlour 
 when the bell rang, and she carried her broom with her. 
 One came with a dish-cloth in her hand, and another, 
 who was cutting meat for dinner, carried a large 
 butcher knife with her to the fire. After the burn 
 was over there was a good deal of merriment among 
 the women about the hurried manner in which they 
 had left their homes. At length the conclusion was 
 reached that a fire was a good thing to bring people 
 together, and let them see what their neighbours are 
 doing. But after this digression I must return to "life 
 on the rail." 
 
 The first subject of our studying of character shall 
 be the officials called the conductors. These men are 
 very important factors in making up the aggregate of 
 a travelling company ; and they present so many 
 different types of manhood that it is not easy to 
 believe them all to belong to the same fraternity, and 
 were it not for their dress and duties, we should take 
 them for entirely opposite classes of persons. One is 
 all kindness and good-nature; ready to give assistance 
 in every way in his power. The' smallest child is 
 treated with as much courtesy as the strongest man ; 
 and the oldest and plainest lady receives as much con- 
 sideration as the prettiest and sprightliest woman on 
 
 22 
 
S38 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 the train, at the hands of this gentlemanly official. 
 This man has everybody for his friend, and travellers 
 like to go on his train, and will do so when they can. 
 Then there is another conductor who is the very 
 reverse of this. He feels his importance, and he makes 
 other people feel it too. His face is never very pleasant 
 to look at, but it can get up a scowl at a minute's 
 notice if some luckless passenger happens to say or do 
 anything that is not provided for irf the rules of 
 service. He is the one that every man hopes will be 
 on some other train than the one he is going on. A 
 third conductor comes in between these two, and has 
 some of the habits of both. When he is in good 
 humour, he is all that is nice ; he is then as sweet as 
 honey, and pliable as the down on the chin of green 
 sixteen. But when he is a little out of tune, he is as 
 snarly and crabbed as a Scotch terrier with a chestnut 
 burr m his ear. This is the man of whom people will 
 say, as they go into the car : " Well, I do hope the con- 
 ductor is in sunshine to-day." There are other varie- 
 ties and modifications, but these are the leading sam- 
 ples that have come under my notice during the years 
 that I have more or less studied " life on the rail." 
 
 Our next subject for contemplation will be found 
 among the passengers, and here an almost endless 
 variety presents itself to our view. All kinds of people 
 in all sorts of dress, and representing every class of 
 society, are here thrown into each other's company 
 without any regard to social standing or political and 
 religious differences. Here wealth and poverty meet 
 on the same level. Innocence and oruilt are in the same 
 
LIFE ON THE RAIL. 339 
 
 range. Modesty and impudence are face to face. 
 Pollution and purity look through the same window. 
 Pride and humility sit in the same seat. And age and 
 childhood drink out of the same cup. 
 
 But let us take a little while to study individual 
 cases. See that young man just coming into the car. 
 The one with a small satchel in one hand, and a little 
 cane in the other. See his nice little moustache, and 
 how tightly his clothes fit him, and his hair is parted 
 in the middle like his mother's. I don't think he has 
 any sisters. He is what was called a dandy in my 
 young days. I believe he is called a " dude " now. 
 He is by no means a dangerous person. He thinks 
 too much of himself to run any great personal risk, and 
 he has too high an opinion of his own worth to do 
 anything that is really low, vulgar, or mean. He is 
 quite harmless, in fact ; he is useful in a certain way : 
 he is to young ladies what a tin rattle is to children, 
 viz., a source of amusement. 
 
 But look toward the other end of the car. There is 
 a man of an entirely different make-up from the "dude." 
 I refer to that big, red-faced man who is filling one 
 seat with his immense person and another with his 
 personal effects. He thinks a good deal of himself. 
 But he is not much troubled about what other people 
 think of him. It makes but little difference to him if 
 half a dozen women are standing for want of room to 
 sit down. He does not think of moving his traps 
 until the conductor gently reminds him that one 
 sitting is all that he has paid for, and that three 
 sittings in a crowded car is a little too much of a 
 
340 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 gratuity to one passenger. See with what an injured 
 air he moves his property, and looks daggers at 
 the two ladies who take the released seat. Do you 
 ask who is he ? I cannot tell you. But if I were 
 going to define him, I should say that he is a sort of* 
 compromise between a beer barrel and a travelling 
 cigar shop. 
 
 But, see, there is another character that is worth a 
 passing thought. It is that little man near the middle 
 of the car. He is just now talking to the big man 
 with a bald head and sandy whiskers. He likes to 
 talk with men larger than himself. He feels a sort of 
 security in their presence. Look sharply at him. 
 You can see conceit in his very looks and hear it in 
 every tone of his voice. I dare say that he is now" tell- 
 ing the big man of some feat of activity or strength in 
 which either himself or some of his friends have acted 
 a leading part. Deeds of daring and acts of prowess 
 are among everyday occurrences in his active and 
 venturesome life. And yet, perhaps, if the truth were 
 known, this same little man never scared anybody 
 very much, and never hurt anyone worse than he 
 could do by bragging over them. But the train stops, 
 and the little man goes out. Soon the conductor calls 
 out " all aboard," and we are on the move once more. 
 
 Short as our stop has been, it has given time for a 
 new passenger to come into the car. This time it is a 
 woman — a modest, timid, trembling, self-depreciating 
 little woman. She comes in as if she was not sure 
 that she had a right there, although she has bought 
 and paid for a ticket which she still holds in her hand. 
 
LIFE ON THE RAIL. 341 
 
 See how wistfully she looks over the seats as if hoping 
 to find an empty seat, and yet fearing to do so. There 
 is only one vacant sitting, the other end being taken 
 up by a big boy, who looks as if he were in strange 
 surroundings. " Is this seat engaged, please ?" The 
 question is put in a voice soft and musical as a lute. 
 " No- m, unless you have pre-empted it." " I — I have 
 not done anything to it," she says in a frightened way. 
 " Well — well nobody says you have. Sit down if you 
 want to," answers the youngster. The crimson 
 deepens on her face as she timidly drops into one 
 corner of the seat, giving a look of grateful acknow- 
 ledgement to the boy who had been so kind as not to 
 contest her right to a small part of the space that she 
 has paid full price for. Whatever that little woman 
 may do in other things, I do not think she will be a 
 success as a traveller. 
 
 But here we are at another station, and a number 
 go out. Among them is the big man who occupied 
 the two seats. Now let us watch those who come in. 
 Ah ! Yes, there he is ; I have been expecting him for 
 some time, and here he is at last. I mean the " swell." 
 See with what self-importance he strides up the aisle. 
 He is lookinor for a chance for two seats, facinfj each 
 other, so that he can sit himself down in one of them 
 and throw his morocco-covered feet on the cushion of 
 the other. 
 
 Now he is seated, take a close look at him. He is 
 a strange compound. It would be difficult to de- 
 termine whether a feeling of contempt for ordinary 
 humanity, a desire to display his mock jewellery, an 
 
342 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 inordinate love for self, or the hope that a good dinner 
 is awaiting him at home, is just now predominating in 
 that man's thoughts and feelings. 
 
 He is of a class who are not of much use in the 
 world's activities, and yet he would be missed if he 
 were gone. He furnishes a complete contrast with the 
 modest little woman mentioned above. He is con- 
 venient to tailors, shoemakers and jewellers to exhibit 
 their wares upon, and in him we can see how much 
 puffing up humanity can bear without an explosion. 
 
 But here comes another subject for our gallery of 
 pictures representing "life on the rail." See that good- 
 sized, elderly lady just coming into the car. That 
 spruce-looking young man who carries her valise is 
 likely her son, and he appreciates the relation. If I 
 am not mistaken, we have here a family premier, a 
 home secretary and finance minister all in one. She is 
 just the kind of woman that a man could trust to 
 manage his home, guard his interest, rule his house- 
 hold and handle his money — such a one as any man 
 might be proud to call his wife, and one that any child 
 ought to be glad to own for a mother. But we must 
 not dwell too long in this lady's company, however 
 pleasant it might be to do so. 
 
 We find in the other end of the car another woman 
 who is sufficiently characteristic to be worthy of a 
 little attention. See that big, old, grey-haired lady 
 sitting in the corner of the car just opposite the stove. 
 She is a vain old dame, or I am no judge. Notice how 
 she has her hair frizzed and banged. Look at the gay 
 colours on her costly headgear. See how she fairly 
 
LIFE ON THE RAIL. 343 
 
 glitters with cheap decorations of various kinds. She 
 is whimsical, too, as well as vain, and fastidious as well 
 as whimsical. And if we may judge by the scowl that 
 is sometimes on her brow, she has a bad temper and 
 sharp tongue. We will not be much astray if we 
 write " vixen " upon her forehead, and dismiss her as a 
 second edition of " Mrs. Caudle," the renowned subject 
 of the " Caudle Curtain Lectures " that were on the 
 market some years ago. 
 
 We will get one more picture illustrating "life on the 
 rail" and then turn to some incidents in connection with 
 the same theme. In selecting a subject for our last 
 picture I find two claimants, and I hardly know which 
 to take. There is that fidgety old man down near the 
 door, and that blonde coquette sitting under the centre 
 lamp and just now dividing her smiles among three 
 young men who are playing around her like so many 
 little satellites. On the whole I think the old man's 
 claims are the strongest, and besides, he is not so often 
 seen as the other, so that we had better take him wlflle 
 we have a chance. This little man differs in many ways 
 from the one we met with a while ago. That one was 
 comparatively young ; this one is old. That one had 
 confidence in himself, and was satisfied with things 
 generally. This one has no confidence in anybody, 
 and is not satisfied with anything. He is continually 
 fidgeting about something or other. The train is going 
 too slow and will be behind time for the stage, or it is 
 going too fast and will be at the next station before 
 the track is cleared for it, or it will jump off the rails 
 and run down an embankment and do nobody knows 
 
344 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 what. And so this little man goes on all the time. 
 But here is the station and we are freed from the little 
 annoyance of the fidgety old man. He went out of 
 the car expressing the opinion that the screeching of 
 the engines, the ringing of bells, the rattling of the 
 train and hard-heartedness of the officials, all taken 
 together, make life on the rail so very uncomfortable 
 that it is but little better than martyrdom, especially 
 to nervous old men and women. 
 
 Incidents of Travel. 
 
 I was once going on the evening train from Palmer- 
 ston to Kincardine. At the Listowel station a wedding 
 party came aboard. They were going to Ethel. They 
 were mostly young people, but they made things in 
 general pretty lively while we were favoured with 
 their company. Two of the young men seemed to act 
 as sort of scapegoats for the crowd, as everything was 
 charged to them. One of the young women seemed to 
 enjoy a monopoly of the fun, as a word or two from 
 her would start the giggle and "ha ha" among her 
 companions at any time she chose to utter it. 
 
 The spirit of song, too, appeared to have boarded 
 the train with them. The whole distance was whiled 
 away by them either in singing or laughing at the 
 jokes of the lady spoken of.. When the train stopped 
 at the station and they got off, I could not help serious 
 thoughts and feelings, and I did oifer a silent prayer 
 for them, that the burdens of life might sit lightly 
 upon their shoulders, that the cares and anxieties of 
 life might not weigh too heavily upon their hearts, 
 
LIFE ON THE RAIL. 345 
 
 and that the snares and pitfalls along the path of life 
 might never entangle their feet or do them harm. 
 
 A Cranky Old Woman. 
 
 The train from Toronto to Hamilton was about 
 ready to start, when a fine-looking young couple came 
 in, and took a seat near the end of the car, and only 
 two seats from where I was sitting. I soon decided 
 in my own mind that they were emigrants, that they 
 were English, and that they belonged to the working- 
 classes. Just then an old woman with a basket on 
 her arm came in and sat on the wood-box, the car 
 being crowded. It was not long before she drew the 
 young woman into answering questions about herself 
 and husband. Where I sat I could not help hearing 
 what was passing between them. I soon learned that 
 the man was a farm labourer and the woman had 
 been a domestic servant ; that they had been married 
 one day, and had started for this country the next ; 
 that they had left all their relatives behind them ; 
 that they expected to find an old acquaintance in 
 Hamilton ; that they had come here to make a home 
 for themselves, and that the woman was a good deal 
 lonesome and a little homesick. 
 
 When the old body had got all the information she 
 could, she said to the young woman, " O ! I am so 
 sorry that you have come to this country. I am from 
 Scotland, and I am going back there just as soon as I 
 can get money enough to take me there. This is a 
 bad country to live in, and it is almost out of the 
 question for old country people to live here at all, 
 
346 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 because the natives are such rogues and liars that you 
 cannot trust them without being cheated, nor believe 
 them without being deceived." 
 
 The other woman by this time was crying, and 
 nearly broken-hearted. Then I spoke to her and 
 said, 
 
 " My good woman, you must not believe what that 
 old lady is telling you. I have been in this country a 
 great deal longer than she has, and I know what she is 
 saying is not true. There are sharpers here the same 
 as there are in all countries ; but the great mass of 
 the people, both natives and others, are the very 
 reverse of what she represents them to be. 
 
 " I could give you the names of hundreds of families 
 who came from the old country as you have done, 
 and they are comfortable, and contented and happy in 
 good homes of their own. Health, industry, sobriety 
 and economy under the Divine guidance are sure to 
 bring success in this land." 
 
 She looked up and said, " We have health, industry, 
 sobriety and confidence in God ; we must learn economy 
 by practice." 
 
 I said to her, " Go ahead with a clear conscience 
 and a resolute will, and may the Lord bless you, and 
 guide you in the way to competence." 
 
 The old woman was just levelling her artillery at 
 me, when an old man in a seat behind me called out 
 to me, " I say, stranger, I move that the daft auld 
 body be sent to bedlam, for she does na ken what she 
 is crackin' about. Auld Scotland haes nae need o' the 
 
LIFE ON THE RAIL. 347 
 
 likes o' her. She is ower fond o' the barley bree to be 
 o' ony use in ony land." 
 
 The old lady subsided and the young one dried her 
 tears. 
 
 A Medley of Song. 
 
 One evening I was on a train from Guelph to 
 Palmerston. The train went very slow and it was 
 long behind time. The night was very dark. There 
 was a good deal of jerking and jolting as though the 
 engine was trying to play " balky-horse." It would 
 stop, and then start with a sudden spring that made 
 everything jar. Many of the passengers became very 
 restless, and some of them impatient. One gentleman 
 was pointed out to me as Senator Plumb, who had an 
 engagement to deliver a political speech in some one 
 of the villages ahead of us. He seemed to accept the 
 situation as cheerfully as a man who had lots of poetry 
 in his composition could be expected to do. 
 
 One lady attracted some attention by her lamenta- 
 tions about the baby that she knew was crying for her 
 at home. An old couple who were on their way 
 to visit the family of a married daughter, became 
 quite uneasy at last when they found they could not 
 reach their destination before bed-time. 
 
 Just as everybody began to feel discontented a 
 couple of young men in one end of the car started to 
 sing,— 
 
 " We won't go home till morning, 
 Till daylight does appear." 
 
348 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 The effect seemed to be almost magical. In a moment 
 some boys in the other end of the car commenced at 
 the top of their voices to sinpj, 
 
 "There's one more river to cross." 
 They would say at every second verse, 
 
 " One more station to pass," 
 
 and then laugh over their success in making the 
 change. 
 
 Two young ladies near the middle of the car began 
 to sing, in a clear, sweet tone the 
 
 " Sweet by and bye." 
 
 The mingling of the voices, and the blending of the 
 different tunes, along with the great diversity of senti- 
 ment, made the performance one of more than ordinary 
 attractiveness. As the train drove into the station at 
 the end of the trip, I could not help wishing that on 
 the morning of the resurrection, and after the last 
 river is crossed, these singers may all find a home in 
 " the sweet by and bye." 
 
CHAPTEK XVII. 
 
 CHANGE AND PROGRESS. 
 
 WHEN we compare the present with the past, 
 we see that wonderful changes have been 
 effected in this country during the term of one life- 
 time. Some of these changes imply real progress, and 
 some of them, perhaps do not. We must not forget 
 that there may be much change, with but little 
 progress. 
 
 I can well remember when things in this country 
 were very different from what they are at the present 
 time. The condition of the country, the state of 
 society, the position of education, and the influence of 
 the churches have all assumed widely different aspects 
 since the days of my boyhood. Then the country was 
 very largely in an unreclaimed state. Much of the 
 soil was still covered with primeval forests. Society 
 was honest and industrious, but unpolished. Educa- 
 tion was in a crude and inefficient condition, the 
 schools being the merest apologies for institutions 
 of learning as compared with our present school sys- 
 
350 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 tem. The Church was less deficient in zeal than it 
 was in means and appliances. 
 
 Things have Changed. 
 
 The yelping of the Indian dog, and the war-whoop 
 of his master have died away in the distance, and in 
 their stead is heard the hum of the threshing-machine, 
 the rattle of the railway train, the whistle of the 
 steam engine, and the ringing of the school-bells. The 
 tall forest trees have given place to the orchard trees. 
 The log hut or slab shanty has been succeeded by the 
 more elegant frame or brick, or stone dwelling. The 
 cow-path has grown into a turnpike. The clanking 
 of the logging chain has been exchanged for the tink- 
 ling of sleigh-bells, and the old ox-cart has its suc- 
 cessor in the fine carriage. 
 
 Society has changed, too, as much as the country has 
 improved. The people of the past generation had 
 very different ideas respecting many things from 
 what we have. And their surroundings in early life 
 differed from those of the youth of the present day ; 
 but they made the best use of the few advantages 
 they had. To say that they were weaker than their 
 descendants, either mentally or physically, would be to 
 say what is the very reverse of what is true. To 
 admit, however, that for want of proper training and 
 culture, they were less able to show what was in 
 them, than their grandchildren are, is only granting 
 what cannot be disputed. But if some of those sturdy 
 men who cleared up the land in our front townships, 
 could visit the scenes of their old-time toils, and see 
 
CHANGE AND PROGRESS. 351 
 
 some of their great-grandsons trying to handle an axe 
 or a hand-pry, they would be as much amused as we 
 would be to see a boy start off to mill, with a bag thrown 
 over a horse's back, having a bushel of wheat in one 
 end of it, and a big stone in the other end to make it 
 balance. 
 
 If some of the old dames who helped to make the 
 homes of our country, and who were so handy with 
 the wheel .and distaff, the rolling-pin, and the knit- 
 ting-needles, could revisit the room-of-all-work, where 
 her house-wifely skill won its former triumphs, 
 and catch some of her great-granddaughters trying to 
 darn little Bessie's hose, or to patch Willie's coat, she 
 would be likely to take the work into her own hands, 
 and say, " Law sakes, child, what do you know about 
 mending children's fixings ? Let me do this, and you 
 go and pound some kind of tune, like "Auld Lang 
 Syne,' or * Bonnie Over the Rhine,' out of the pianner." 
 
 Let it be understood that I am presenting the ex- 
 tremes. Some of the grandmas were as much at 
 home in the parlour as they were in the kitchen. 
 And some of the granddaughters are as much at home 
 in the kitchen as they are in the parlour. These old 
 people did their work, and did it well according to 
 their opportunities and the means at their disposal. 
 Well will it be for us, who have inherited the fruits 
 of their honest toil, if we are as true and faithful in 
 our day and generation as they were in theirs. 
 
 But there have been great changes, too, in educational 
 matters during the last fifty years. In fact, the 
 schools at the time of my boyhood were very rudi- 
 
352 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 mental in their modes of instruction, and extremely- 
 limited in the range of subjects taught in them. Very 
 many of the teachers of those days attempted nothing 
 more than the fundamental branches of common 
 school education. And a man that could read pretty 
 well and do ordinary sums in arithmetic, as well as 
 write a fair hand and spell most of the words cor- 
 rectly, was looked upon at that time as being a fair 
 scholar. 
 
 But how different it is now, when our boys and girls 
 are ready for the high school at twelve or thirteen. 
 At sixteen they are fit for college, and many of them 
 are graduates at twenty-one or two. 
 
 But, it may be asked, is our system, with all its 
 excellences, the best that could be adopted ? Is there 
 not too much drawing the youth of our country away 
 from the common walks of life, and towards the col- 
 leges and the professions ? Will not the various indus- 
 tries and interests of the country be made to suffer by 
 so many of the young being encouraged in the belief 
 that toil is degrading, and that a labouring man is 
 inferior to a professional man ? 
 
 Would it not be better to make our schools to so 
 far harmonize with the real and actual wants of the 
 people, as to be their educator in the ordinary affairs 
 of everyday life, instead of absorbing so much of the 
 time of thousands of children on subjects that are of 
 little or no use to them after they leave the common 
 school ? Better to train the children to be active 
 workers in the great national hive, than to merely fit 
 them to fastidiously sip the honey that other toilers 
 have gathered. 
 
CHANGE AND PROGRESS. 353 
 
 The professions are already overcrowded, and every 
 year adds to the difficulty. It has been truly said, in 
 regard to these professions, " There is plenty of room 
 at the top." But it is also true, that the ascent is so 
 steep, and the way so full of anxious aspirants, that very 
 few have the ability and energy to rush up the steep 
 acclivity, press through the motley gathering that 
 intercepts his way, and reach the top. Are there not 
 men in the professions who rank as third or fourth 
 class there, who would have made first-class farmers 
 and mechanics ? I do not mean by this that farmers 
 and mechanics need less brain, or less force of charac- 
 ter, than the doctor, or lawyer, or clergyman. But a 
 different combination of faculties is all that makes a 
 successful man in one calling out of an individual who 
 would be a complete failure in another. 
 
 But I am told that a classical education does not 
 disqualify a man for work. That may be true. But 
 does it qualify him for work in the ordinary affairs of 
 life ? I am now bordering on to seventy years of age, 
 and I have never seen a B.A., or an M.D., or lawyer, 
 comfortably and contentedly or successfully shoving 
 the plane or holding the plough. The time that 
 should have been spent in learning how to do these 
 things was given to other things that are of but little 
 practical benefit in these callings. True, there are 
 some highly educated women who are good house- 
 keepers ; but they can adapt themselves to surround- 
 ing circumstances better and more readily than men 
 can do. 
 
 Our school system seems to take it for granted that 
 23 
 
354 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 every child is a universal genius ; and it seems to over- 
 look the fact that success in one thing does not 
 guarantee success in everything. The system, as yet, 
 is not sufficiently elastic to adjust itself to the various 
 demands of the great variety of minds, for the cultiva- 
 tion and development of which it ought to provide. 
 
 In the churches, too, we find change and progress. 
 Not that they are more earnest and zealous. Not that 
 they have more of love for God and humanity. Not 
 that the members are more spiritual, nor that the 
 services are more punctually attended. In none of 
 these things can the churches of to-day claim to be 
 much in advance of what they were half a century 
 ago. The difference is found in clearer conceptions of 
 the demands of the world upon the Church, in a fuller 
 recognition of the claims of missionary effort, in a 
 stronger feeling of unity among Christians, in a closer 
 application of Bible precepts to the practices of every- 
 day life, in a keener sense of individual obligation, and 
 in embracing' a wider range of subjects, and in laying 
 broader plans for carrying out the Divine injunction 
 to Christianize the world. 
 
 The results of these changes are found in the great 
 increase in the contributions to the various institutions 
 of the Church, in the advancements of the cause of 
 temperance, and in the expansion of missionary opera- 
 tions. 
 
 There have also been great changes in the habits and 
 methods of domestic life. Machinery now does most 
 of the heavy work at which our fathers found their 
 hardest toil. Both out door and in the house the 
 
CHANGE AND PROGRESS. 355 
 
 burden of life's toils is made light by the substitution 
 of the mechanical contrivances for the exercise of bone 
 and muscle. Men do not now need the napkin to wipe 
 the sweat from the brow, so much as they need the oil- 
 can to grease the m achinery. Everywhere is heard the 
 hum of whirling wheels and revolving pulleys. From 
 the kitchen, where the cook handles the egg-beater, 
 to the barnyard, where the men drive the steam- 
 thresher, the heaviest work is done by some sort of an 
 unconscious servant in the shape of a machine. 
 
 An Old Homestead. 
 
 Not many months ago I visited an old homestead. 
 In a field near the house were a number of men work- 
 ing at wheat harvesting. The present owner was 
 sitting quite comfortably on the seat of one of those 
 machines called a harvester, driving a fine horse team 
 around the field, cutting as good a crop of fall wheat 
 as any man could expect to reap. The men were 
 binding and " shocking up " what the machine cut 
 down. There were four men at one dollar and seventy- 
 five cents a day, which, with the wages of the teamster 
 and horses, along with the use of the harvester, I 
 estimated at twelve dollars a day. They expected to 
 cut ten acres that day. Now, that would be one 
 dollar and twenty cents an acre for harvesting. Al- 
 lowinor fifteen dollars for haulingr into the barn and 
 threshing, and five dollars for contingencies, would bring 
 the outlay up to thirty-two dollars, after the wheat 
 was grown, to make it ready for market. There would 
 not be less than two hundred bushels, which, at eighty 
 
356 EXPERIENCES OF A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 cents per bushel, would be one hundred and sixty 
 dollars for the field of wheat. 
 
 But while I was making these calculations it oc- 
 curred to me that, long years ago, I saw other harvest 
 hands going over the same piece of ground. The 
 father of the present proprietor was swinging a grain 
 cradle as but few men could do it. His oldest son 
 and a neighbour were raking and binding. The field 
 was very "stumpy" then. Fifteen bushels to the 
 acre would be the highest yield. The wheat was 
 hauled into the old log barn on a " woodshod " sled. 
 It was trodden out on the floor with oxen, or threshed 
 out with a " flail," and cleaned out of the chaff with 
 an indescribable instrument called a "fan." What 
 was not needed for bread and seed was carried with 
 an ox team over twenty-five miles, and sold for 
 seventy cents a bushel, and mostly store pay at that. 
 
 I knew that man for a number of years, and I never 
 heard him complain of hard times. I never knew him 
 to be without money in his pocket, nor without a slice 
 of bread and butter for a hungry traveller, or an un- 
 fortunate neighbour. He and his thrifty wife prac- 
 tised that kind of domestic economy that gauges its 
 wants by the possibilities of supply, and keeps its out- 
 lay within the limits of its income. And they had 
 many neighbours who were like them in these things. 
 
 These are the kind of people who have left us the 
 fruits of their honest toil. Let us, who have entered 
 into their labours, follow more closely their example 
 in needful industry and self-denial. Then there would 
 be less complaining about hard times, which mostly 
 come in on the line of our extravagances. 
 
CHANGE AND PROGRESS. 357 
 
 Back Country Towns. 
 
 Before closing this chapter, I wish to say a few 
 words about the lively towns that have sprung up in 
 the territory where my ministerial life has been 
 passed. 
 
 When I commenced my itinerant life, in 185G, 
 Orangeville was a small village, so was Meaford, and 
 Owen Sound, and Kincardine. Now they are towns. 
 Next came up the villages of Mount Forest, Listowel, 
 and Walkerton. These are all towns now. Later still 
 came Wingham, Shelburne,and Palmerston. I travelled 
 over the sites of these long before they were thought 
 of as places for towns. Durham, Paisley, Port Elgin, 
 Arthur, Fergus, Elora, Teeswater, Thornbury, Tiver- 
 ton, Priceville, Chatsworth, Flesherton, Eugenia, 
 Southampton, Tara, Hanover, Clifford, Harriston, 
 Chesley, Mildmay, Bervie, Ripley, Singhampton, 
 Heathcote, Kimberley, Ethel, Bluevale, Brussels, and 
 last, but not least, Clarkesburgh. These are all places 
 of more or less importance, and some of them are 
 rapidly growing into the dimensions of towns. 
 
 There are two or three other subjects that I intend- 
 ed to notice ; but the space at my disposal is filled up. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 I always feel a sort of sadness come over me when I 
 am parting with friends. So now, kind readers, I ex- 
 perience regretful emotions at taking leave of you. 
 With many of you I am personally acquainted. I 
 have sat at your tables, I have slept in your beds, I 
 
358 EXPERIENCES OP A BACKWOODS PREACHER. 
 
 have warmed myself at your firesides and in many 
 ways I have shared your hospitalities. 
 
 For some of you I visited your sick, buried your 
 dead, baptized your children, and married your sons 
 or daughters. 
 
 With some of you I have prayed and wept, as you 
 knelt in humble penitence at the feet of the Crucified 
 One ; and when you found the joys of salvation I re- 
 joiced with you. 
 
 With others of you I have not the pleasure of an 
 acquaintance ; but I trust that you are not unfriendly 
 either to myself or my little book. 
 
 I have given you facts in as pleasing a manner as I 
 could, without extravagant colourinor. I have tried to 
 tell you the truth in describing these experiences. In 
 doing this, I have used the language of the home circle 
 as it is spoken by the working people of our own 
 country. 
 
 If I have succeeded in meeting your expectations, I 
 shall rejoice; but if I have failed to do so, I shall 
 regret very much that my ability in this has not 
 equalled my desire and intention. The disappoint- 
 ment will be more keenly felt by the writer than it 
 can be by the reader. 
 
 And now, wishing every one of my readers a pros- 
 perous and contented life, and a home at last in the 
 bright beyond, I must reluctantly say good-bye. 
 
Y